"Dang it, Luke!" Bo yelled. A strong sound of distress and anger, cloaking tears. Bo drops his hands, letting this next punch hit him full on the face. He knows this is a love fight, making every punch and every harsh word cut to the very soul. The next swing lands with a heart-stopping thump against the left side of Bo's ribcage. It flashes through his mind how Luke once killed a man in a boxing match. Yes, he does, he still loves me or I would be dead, He's going easy on me. Bo starts to think of a lot of things, things he shouldn't mix. Things about the past, this afternoon, about that kiss he had to watch. Anger rising once again in his veins, he swings, and busts Luke in the mouth. And that's it, pulling back bloody knuckles, the fight is over. For a few tense minutes, the loft of the barn had been a brawling ring.
The light filters through the dim windows, creating a miniature galaxy of stars made from dust. The cool autumn afternoon, quickly giving way to evening. The boys are breathless, bodies and egos bruised and sore as they back away from one another. Luke turns away from Bo, staring out the window, seeing but not really looking. He daubs blood from his lip and chin with the sleeve of his shirt, silent and analyzing. "Bo, you know dern well she doesn't mean to me what you do." His voice stern, unwavering, unwilling to compromise.
Bo makes no effort to catch his fall as he stumbles backwards onto the floorboards, landing hard, unable to take any of this anymore. The knees of his jeans are both torn, dark red pooling and staining the fabric. He pulls them up close to his chest, hugging himself. Fighting back the sting of tears, and losing, Bo always hated how he couldn't control his emotions. His temper, his sadness...they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place if he had only kept his mouth shut. Bo readies himself for a conversation he's not ready to have, never is. Taking a shaky, deep breath "I just don't understand.."
"That's just it Bo, you do understand. I don't like this any better n' you do." Luke's voice softens a notch, "..I mean Uncle Jesse, Daisy, Cooter...they're family to us." Luke turns to look at Bo, sitting all angel-like, bloody and beautiful against the sun-scarred wood. "But Hazzard? The rest of the world...?" Bo holds his breath in an effort to keep his sizzling temper in check. "Hell, we'd be dead before we even knew what hit us if the whole world knew." Bo hated this most of all, the charade, the game. 'Saving face' as Luke usually puts it. The fiasco of chasing women was always easier for Luke than Bo, with his cool attitude, smooth talking, and eyes to die for. Bo was always a little too anxious, a little too silly, a little too desperate to keep tallies alongside Luke. Shouldn't love in all its purity be able to exist without regulations? Are they really better off to break a girls heart when they get too close?
Luke winces as he crouches in front of Bo, pain pulling at not-yet-visible bruises on his muscles. A single tear makes a rugged path down Bo's cheek, merging with his untended bloody nose. He swallows, "What about when Uncle Jesse...what about when he's gone? What'll we do then? Just move on and forget about each other?!" Luke gently places his hands on either side of Bo's face, trying to make a mends, wishing he could just speak the right words that would keep them there together, forever. Bo violently pulls away from Luke's touch, refusing to be consoled. Instinctively, Luke tightens his grip, forcing eye contact. Bo's tension visibly starts to melt away, staring back at the only person who can make him feel every emotion over the rainbow, and back again.
Luke carefully spreads Bo's legs and leans into him for a swollen-lipped kiss. Bo tenses, convinces himself to resist. He knows how this will turn out, but Luke isn't the only one who can claim ownership. Luke runs his tongue along Bo's lower lip, slowly finding his way in between parted lips to be met with a surprisingly ravenous tongue. Bo runs a hand up the back of Luke's neck, tangling into his hair, pushing deeper exploration into each others mouths. A coppery, rich taste consumes Bo as they pull away from the kiss. Feeling drunk from it, he traps Luke's lower lip between his teeth and gently bites down. Luke hisses in sharply as the coppery taste flows into Bo's mouth. He sucks desperately, this is a familiar taste to him. A memory of age twelve begins to play through his mind. A time when he had cut his palm open on a barbed-wire fence, he clearly remembers Luke sitting cross-legged in front of him as he sliced his own hand open with a pocket knife, he didn't even hesitate. They held hands, bled into each other, while Luke explained to him what it meant to be blood brothers. That was when they had their first real kiss.
In one swift movement, Luke moves away and starts to pull at Bo's shirt, already mostly un-tucked. Tossing it to the side reveals a canvas of bruise and red welts. Bo returns the favor, busting off the last two remaining buttons that managed to escape the clutches of their brawl. Luke kisses and licks his way up Bo's ribcage, to his nipple that he catches lightly in between his teeth before working his way back down. Bo fights moans as Luke dips his tongue briefly into his bellybutton, and sucks a new bruise between there and his belt buckle. Palming at the bulge in Bo's crotch with his left hand, Luke pulls at the buckle with the right, freeing it, and popping the button on his jeans. He helps Bo kick them across the floor, simultaneously taking his throbbing cock into his mouth. Teasing, lightly sucking at the head, making rigorous circles with his tongue. Being unusually forceful, Bo grips at Luke's hair, forcing him all the way down.
Eyes squeezed shut, Bo's suppressed moans come to surface, unbarred. Luke presses down on Bo's hips with his hands, holding him down, controlling him. Bo feels himself losing, feels so good, already so close. His whole body protesting, he grasps Luke by the shoulders, shoving him backwards. Luke lands roughly on his ass, confused, giving Bo the eyebrow. His busted lip swollen and tender, streaks of crimson running down his chin. Lust and adrenaline masking aches and pains, Bo expertly unfastens, unbuttons and unzips Luke all at once. Pinning Luke's legs down with his knees, pulling his dark bluejeans down just far enough to expose his thick cock. Bo wraps his hand around the base, sliding his way up and down, making a few slow circles before going back down again, coating the inside of his hand with precum.
Luke's eyes roll back into his head, he blindly grabs for Bo, pulling him forward by the shoulder blades. Their cocks rubbing together, Bo hungrily sucks and teeths on Luke's neck. Ignoring all Luke's weak attempts at making him stop, he leaves a trail of bruise and broken blood vessels underneath the skin, marking him in deep purples and reds. No one else can touch him, he is mine, he belongs to me. Only me.
Luke nurses on one of Bo's scraped knuckles, lost in their own universe as he nudges him up. Painfully achingly hard, he pushes him back down onto his cock, deeply penetrating. They're both clenching their teeth, uttering unidentifiable words under hushed breath. Bo sets a staggering pace, forcing Luke deep inside of him with every thrust. The sunset has turned the inside of the barn into a fiery ocean of oranges, yellows, and black. Long shadows stripe over Bo's back, Luke's hands splayed just above his ass, fingernails leaving little circlets dug into tense flesh.
Their moans challenging one another, sweaty slick bodies, breathing ragged. Hands clutched white, an equal fight of dominance and submission, they climax together. Bo soaks their chests and bellies, stinging open wounds. Luke completely fills Bo, excess cum running down the back of his legs. They collapse next to each other, eyes closed, begging the circulation to come back into their brains. Pain and exhaustion catch up with the boys, the sun nearly set, it would soon be safe to sneak back into the house, or take a quick dip in the pond.
Bright splotches of blood begin to coagulate in sporadic patterns on the old wooden boards all around them as they nap, arms draped around one another. In hidden away corners and forgotten crevices, you can find dark splatter, nearly black. Seeped into the cracks, mixed, dried. This isn't the first time they've done this.