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Deacon mockingly mouthed words behind Desdemona as she informed Nate about the mission for the hundredth time. Him and Deacon were to stay in the underground headquarters while everyone else evacuated for a few days due to suspicious activity and threats. Pretty standard, all things considered, you can't blame them for being too careful with all that was at stake.

It took a while, but everyone steadily filed out. Nate gave out the typical "stay safe" while Deacon couldn't help but crack jokes to help remain detached from the situation. The last to leave was Desdemona herself, giving them both one last look of "please try not to get yourselves killed" before disappearing into the eerie shadows of the tunnels.

After a couple of days, they'd finally run out of normal things to talk about, the dusty red brick walls faintly echoing the hushed talking of what could easily be confused as two teenage boys having a sleepover. "Fuck, marry, kill?", "weirdest place you've had sex?", "celebrity crushes?".  Perhaps the last one was a little unfair for Deacon, post-apocalyptic environments tended to have a distinct lack of celebrity figures, but that was all part of the fun. The most recent question on Nate's mind, however, was something along the lines of "biggest turn on's", to which Deacon could only shrug and deflect. It truly was a shame Nate could never back down from a challenge.

"What do you mean you don't have any kinks? I know you're a liar by trade, but you're such a goddamn liar. Everyone knows of at least one." He propped himself against one of the crumbling support pillars, crossing his arms and staring accusingly at Deacon's shades. "You're either lying because you're embarrassed, or you're pretending as if you've never experimented. Which is ridiculous, not even in your own thoughts? That's basically impossible, Deeks." The spy just laughed, hopping to sit on the odd brick and stone "table" centrepiece, feet dangling several inches from the floor. As he moved, his shadow danced across the crumbling bricks, the dim light of the few lit candles did their best to provide suitable vision, but it was strenuous at best.

"So what if I could tell you? Which I can't, by the way, it's top secret knowledge. I'd have to wipe your memory and drop you off in a ditch somewhere." His smile faltered. "Besides, do you know how difficult it is for a guy like me to relax? To give someone that level of intimacy? Ugh, just the thought of it makes me shudder. Gross." His renewed smile was so fake, it would've been obvious to Nate even if he wasn't paying attention.

"You're trying to tell me that you've never let anyone get close enough to play with your kinks? That's depressing, man." Kicking himself off of the pillar, he strolled towards where Deacon sat illuminated by the small cluster of candles burning beside him. There was nothing suspicious about this actions, of course, this was simply a friendly conversation between two guys. Nate's mind wasn't distracted by the answers he wanted to hear from his friend, or how he would get those answers from him. Or how the warmth of the orange flames pulled flickering shadows across his face, defining him in a way Nate doubted anyone had ever seen him before.

"Well let's see: choking is a no, weapons are a big no, bondage is a hell no. What else is even interesting to anyone?" He almost let his happy charade drop, Nate definitely saw the twitch. If he wanted to keep playing pretend, so be it. Two can play that game.

"You know there are more tame kinks than that, right? Name calling, role-play... I don't know, feet?" Dragging his heels to position himself in front of Deacon's 'relaxed' body, Nate tilted his head to the side to gaze into the darkness of the sunglasses quizzically. "Besides, I'm more offended that you don't trust me with that sort of information. What am I going to do with it, blackmail you? No one would believe me, and you know it." That pulled a laugh and genuine smile from Deacon, but something in his face gave away his inability to be casual about anything ever. It's never usually noticeable, but Nate had spent such a long time around him that he can just tell these things. You have to be aware of his subtleties to make it anywhere with him, like some sort of Deacon-whisperer.

"You know how it is with guys like me, we can never be too careful." It was said so matter-of-factly, but with such a sad undertone that Nate wasn't sure how to react. After everything they'd been through, after all the bloodshed and shared booze and joyful conversations, he still couldn't loosen up around him?

Nate stuttered for a second, placing a comforting hand on Deacon's shoulder, which only causing the spy to break character for the briefest moment before managing to compose himself again, raising an eyebrow as if he didn't already understand what was going on. "You know you can trust me, right? I understand that it's difficult for you, but I'll always be here when you need me." Gently squeezing of his shoulder, Nate couldn't help the look of mild concern. "You know that, don't you?" Deacon opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "You're my closest friend, Deeks, and I trust you. More than anyone else."

A small noise got caught in Deacon's throat and stopped Nate in his tracks. He was about to prattle on about how this post-nuclear trash-world wouldn't be the same without the one he trusted with his life by his side, or some equally sappy nonsense, but a wave of scepticism and impurities washed away any plan he had.

An awkward silence filled the air. Nate looked for any signs of what it meant within Deacon, but he'd shut himself down to his usual controlled act. The hand on his shoulder twitched, with several ideas on where to go. It took a moment of thought, but Nate had hatched a questionably irresponsible scheme that never really made it past it's first few seconds of being before it was put into action. He reasoned that he could always transition back to Plan A if everything else failed, anyway. What was the worst that could possibly happen?

Softly, slowly, Nate’s hand drifted it's way up to Deacon’s cheek, thumb barely brushing against his lips. If he wasn't paying attention, which he definitely was, he would have missed the minute amount of pink that had begun to trace its way along Deacon’s cheekbones. It was the little things like that, the reactions he couldn't hide and that showed so much honesty despite himself, that fuelled Nate's instincts. Should he have been following his instincts over his common sense? Probably not, but where was the fun in playing safe, anyway.

“Because, Deacon,” Nate tested, his voice pitched lower to really set the tone, “you're such a good companion to me.” With light emphasis on ‘good’, he relaxed his body as best he could, attempting to look innocently comforting. By the way Deacon’s lips parted ever so slightly, as if to respond in some way but for the words to die in his throat, Nate knew he was on the right path. "So, so good to me." He felt the stuttered breath Deacon tried to hide, and it made him smile softly. He took that as a sign to manoeuvre his way somewhat between Deacon's slightly spread legs, just close enough to advance his position, but far enough away so as to not touch. He may have been on the right path, but it was still such a delicate path to take. Nate licked his lips.

“You're always there for the people that need you.” His eyes danced over the pink bloom creeping from underneath Deacon's shades, and Nate had to fight his harmless smile from growing into the satisfied smirk he felt inside. Who knew all it took was a little praise to bring down the Railroad's greatest spy? Or perhaps this was all for little ol' Nate. The thought flickered deviance in his eyes, like a beast in heat. "For Dez..." He dropped his gaze to dried, parted lips. "For the Railroad..." He risked shifting the hand on his cheek to drag his fingers along Deacon's tense jaw. "For me..." Dark eyes watched his adam's apple bob, he watched the tongue dart out briefly to wet his lips as a nervous tic. It seemed like he was preparing to say something, but anytime a word went to leave his mouth, they just left as a faint huff of air. The usually so well put-together spy looked so cute all flustered like this, but as much as Nate felt like he could stare all day, he had a goal in mind and he wasn't going to stop unless told.

“You're so impressive.” Deacon tensed, fingers twitching into loosely balled fists behind him. He could try to hide his reactions all he wanted, Nate was on high alert and saw everything. He eyed the other man, closing the gap, crossing the line between 'comforting friend' and 'lustful advance'. He felt warm, uncomfortably so for it to just be his ambient temperature. At the contact, Deacon made the faintest noise, swallowing it just too late for Nate to miss it. He felt the other man clench his jaw for a moment before relaxing, eyebrows knitting together from the effort. "You're so skilful, in so many ways..." Nate let himself trail off, letting the implications drive them both wild. He took his sweet time leaning in, planting his unoccupied hand beside Deacon's hip, the hand on his face tracing agonisingly slowly across his bottom lip. He brought his face a little closer, spoke a little softer, "Anyone would be lucky to have you on their side." Deacon's torso tensed with the effort, fighting the need to get closer to Nate. His voice dropped down to deep rumble, "I'm so lucky to have someone like you on my side, Deacon." Mission failed, Deacon's back arched almost imperceptibly with a barely audible gasp, but honestly he might as well have just pulled him into a hug. There was nowhere to hide from Nate's attentive gaze, and he couldn't help the smirk that forced it's way onto his lips, so decided to hide it with a soft kiss to his cheek. Deacon made a choked noise in his throat and closed his fists tight.

"So reliable." Another delicate kiss along his cheekbone. Nate moved his hand from his face, slowly playing his way down the other man's neck to his chest. Deacon bit at his lower lip, missing the sensation of the touch but loving the way the fingers felt as they danced over his shirt. “So loyal.” Another kiss, making a line towards Deacon's ear, letting his breath tickle the sensitive skin. Deacon's legs tensed, digging his heels into the brick beneath him. "Everyone trusts you," one more kiss, His mouth hovered right beside Deacon's ear, his voice just below a teasing whisper, "because you always do the right thing." Nate trailed his hand lower down the shaky chest. From his angle, he could see behind the shades. Deacon had his eyes closed, eyebrows raised and together, and it was a beautiful sight to behold. But it wasn't enough. Nate needed to hear his voice. "We couldn't do any of this without you." His hand glided it's way down his chest to his stomach, and he pressed his lips to the shell of Deacon's ear. It was almost a gasp, but it wasn't good enough, if anything it only made him hungrier for those delicious noises.

"Oh, Deacon..." Hot breath played against the sensitive skin, hand getting lower. He nipped at his ear and earned a muted sound. He dragged his hand over Deacon's hip to earn another. Nate clawed his nails down the length of Deacon's tense, muscular thigh, all the way down to his knee. Carefully watching his face, Nate drank in the wonderful sight. Deacon's head had tilted up, cheeks no longer able to hide the flush, eyes screwed shut. The candlelight made it seem like his aura was glowing from the attention, and if that didn't boost Nate's ego then the look of Deacon's bottom lip being so roughly pulled between his teeth would have. He looked so delicate, almost heavenly, like some wasteland wanderer shouldn't have been playing around with something so innocent. But honestly, those thoughts only urged him to ruin the man more, he couldn't think of anything better than leaving a mark like that on someone. Palm flat to his skin, Nate dragged his hand back up Deacon's trembling leg. "You are such..." Nate's thumb circled his inner thigh, teasing him one last time, before moving a higher.

"You're such a good boy, Deacon." Nate pressed against the bulging front of Deacon's jeans. A hand flew to grasp at the unoccupied arm, and his hips jerked forward with a shaky gasp. Deacon was unsteady, Nate could see it, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to support himself through everything he had planned. Nate was a man of many skills, and this minor setback wouldn't deter him.

Nate gently massaged the confined cock under his palm, pulling a choked moan from Deacon before he'd had a chance to compose himself. "Look at you," Deacon held him tight with his legs. "So patient..." Nate couldn't help but accentuate each time he spoke with a firm press of his palm. "Letting me do what I want to you..." He couldn't help but lean back down to kiss along his exposed neck. The results were instant and divine. Deacon's mouth made a perfect 'o' as soft moans and heavy breaths escaped him with each kiss. He was so sensitive, his quivering thighs moving up to try and hook around Nate's hips, desperate to pull him closer. Nate chucked against Deacon's skin, sucking and nipping along the soft neck. "You're such a good boy for me." The hand Deacon was using to support himself threw itself around Nate's neck, muffling a quiet sob into his shoulder as he ground his hips into the hand moving tortuously slow.

Nate moved to free Deacon from his jeans, much to the man's evident and audible delight. After a small amount of fumbling, his cock sprung from his pants with a trembling gasp, leaving a string of pre-cum between the tip and fabric. Nate swiped at the fluid with his thumb, spreading it over the swollen head. Deacon could've tried to muffle the whimper that followed all he wanted, but that didn't mean it wasn't music to Nate's ears. He rolled the head with his thumb, spiralling from the tip to the ridge and back. He couldn't help but shower him with praise about how he's so perfect, so beautiful, such a good boy, all while rubbing that pattern over the slick, sensitive head. All Deacon could do was bury his face in Nate's shoulder, shuddering and bucking into his hand. He's a hot mess and he knew it, but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he didn't enjoy every single agonising second of it. But he was well past being able to form cohesive words, let alone lie. Something about Nate's voice in his ear, the kisses, bites, sucks, the hand on his cock, the smell of Nate as his face buried deeper into his shoulder. Deacon was surrounded by everything Nate and it was overwhelming him in every way that he didn't know he needed.

"What is it, Deacon?" His hand had found it's way to Nate's hair, sliding between the locks as if they held the secret to regaining control of his situation. "What do you want me to do to you, hmm?" Nate didn't stop what he was doing despite the light yet desperate tugs of his hair. Or perhaps in spite of them. He lifted his head from Deacon's neck to see the face of a man who was well past the point of feeling any shame. Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth, linking the two men by a rope of saliva. Nate slowed his movements down just enough to allow Deacon the ability think again. Panting out a messy jumble of "please", "Nate", and "more" were the only real words he could manage, but they really did get the job done. Nate chuckled low and dark, making the spy shiver like he never had before, and was thrown off guard as Nate took him in hand and pumped him hard and rough. God, it was teetering on painful, but it felt so good. Tears welled in his eyes as Deacon shoved his face back into Nate's shoulder, continuing his stream of nonsensical gibberish from before. Nate found it funny that not even the most delirious, blissed out version of Deacon could shut up. In fact, it was quite endearing to him, and as much as he'd love to make fun of him for it, he didn't want to risk making him stop. What a delicate path indeed.

"Like this? You like it when I do this, hmm? Do you like it hard and fast, Deacon? You've been so good, you deserve a reward, don't you? You've been so, so good, you deserve to cum, don't you think?" Deacon could barely keep himself together, Nate's voice had invaded every single one of his brain cells, so deep and close to growling that it reverberated in Deacon's chest. It's a good thing they're alone, there's no way he's ever letting Nate do this anywhere near people. Never, never...

The thought had a tear falling down his cheek and oh god, it shouldn't have been bringing him closer to the edge. Just the thought of Nate pinning him to a cold brick wall just around a corner to a conversation, large hand firmly clamped over that chatterbox mouth while he hopelessly tries to keep from alerting anyone with his whines. Nate would call it training, he'd tease him for so long, fuck, he'd be so good, he'd want to prove how good he was so bad. He's such a good boy. Such a good...

Nate could tell just how far gone he was from the heels bruising his hips, to the fingers desperately gripping at his hair, to the way he seemed to be sobbing words like "good" and "fuck" and "boy" in various orders, to how he was positively shaking all over. It's always such a thrill to have your strongest fetish indulged, Nate remembered his own experience being something along the same lines. He's glad he gets to share this moment with him instead of some random wastelander or agent, or worse - a sleeper mission target. At least this way he knows he's safe, he knows he's loved.

But that's a thought for another day.

Nate took the hand he was using to support himself and grabs Deacon's hip, tugging him closer, practically laying him down on the stone table. He wasn't so much haloed by the candlelight as he was bathed in the soft orange like he were a pre-war erotic model. It put ideas in Nate's head, but Deacon quickly brought him back to the present. Writhing at the new angle and hooking his legs around Nate's body properly, both arms around his neck, one hand grasping at his hair and the other clawing desperately at his back, it was like the most comfortable cage Nate had ever been in. In the new position, the tremors dancing through Deacon's muscles were much easier to see, and Nate smirked with a dark chuckle. "You've been such a good boy, Deacon. Such a good boy. You deserve to cum, don't you? You deserve it. Go on, cum for me, Deacon. Cum for me." Tears streamed from his eyes as he clamped down, arching desperately into Nate's chest, teeth biting down on his shoulder hard enough to mark and cumming harder than he ever thought possible. It had been so long with just his hand, when he felt worthy of even just that, and no other human had touched him like this, talked to him like this, overwhelmed him like this. It was too much, way too much, but he couldn't stop. His voice was lost at his peak, too high to even make a sound. It took a long second of rhythmic full body jolts before he was gasping like it's his first breath, and was sobbing out whimpers to the vague tune of Nate's name.

The air was filled with the sound of panting and the smell of cum. Carefully plucking Deacon's limbs off of various parts of his body, mindful not to throw an arm onto the candle cluster, Nate managed to stand up and cracks his back. It wasn't the easiest position to hold, but it was totally worth it in his eyes. Especially as he looks down to see a wrecked Deacon, face flushed with a cum-stained shirt. Reminded of cum, Nate wiped his hand on the already ruined cloth, sure Deacon probably wouldn't mind.

It took a moment, but Deacon seemed to regain his senses, letting out a little laugh and bringing a hand up to touch his overheated face. "Oh hell yeah. Fuck, yeah, let's not have that be a one time thing. I don't know what you did, but I'm telling you," He threw up the 'ok' hand symbol, "you just blew my goddamn mind, dude." All Nate could do was laugh.

"First time doing a scene, huh?" Nate dug around the nearby shelves, squinting in the dim light, and handed a water bottle to Deacon, who gladly took it.

"What is that, is that something pre-war? Sex-ed isn't what it used to be, you know." He goes to sit up to drink, but realises about half-way that he just can't be bothered, and flops back down. Precariously, he poured the water into his mouth from a height, using the access that didn't quite hit the mark to wipe away dried spit and tear tracks. "Fuck, Nate, did I cry? What the hell..."

"Yeah, that happens sometimes. Especially when indulging kinks." Nate took a swig of his own water, spying that Deacon still hadn't bothered putting his cock away, but who was he to judge, really? "So... praise, huh?"

"Shut up!" The emptied bottle being thrown at Nate's head was obviously coming, but he didn't try to stop him. It seemed like a reasonable response. "And I warned you, say goodbye to your memory and hello to your new ditch home." Nate chuckled.

"Is this why you hate compliments so much? Is that why Dez never makes a big deal out of congratulating you on your work? Oh my god, Deacon..."

"I hate you so much right now."

"But you're not denying it."

"Shut up!"