The day had been frustrating to say the least.

The swamps had been, in civil terms, the most unpleasant experience in Nick's life, even topping his divorce.

That was a feat.

The mucky water; crawling with god knows what, the mosquitoes; which had nipped him at the base of his neck, where his collar chaffed. Oh yeah, let us not forget the flesh eating monsters. Especially the ones that could blind you with mud.

Unpleasant.

So, dirty, tired, hot, and soaked, the four survivors slumped into an abandoned insurance office. Once they all laid down their weapons, Coach shoved one of the many large filing cabinets in front of the door to blockade the only entrance.

Fortunately, there was a bathroom with working plumbing, so Rochelle offered to rinse out everyone's shirts the best she could.

This is where Nick's dilemma came in.

The hick had practically ripped off his yellow t-shirt, which was covered in all matter of body fluids, sighing happily since it was so humid.

The gambler had known Ellis was fit, but he didn't realize just how fit.

The strong arms, which were decorated with small scars (probably from sharp metal scraping his skin) and the intricate blue tribal tattoo. He hadn't realized that it ran all the way up to his pectoral, which was just as toned as his arms.

Traveling lower, he saw a defined abdomen fall into tapered hips. From the belly button, the con man could even spot a thin trail lead right into his-

That's when Nick had wrenched his eyes away, cursing mentally at feeling a spike of arousal shoot down his spine, making his pelvis tingle. He tried to ignore it, distracting himself by taking off his jacket so he could hand Rochelle his own shirt, throwing in a snarky comment about being careful with it.

She just rolled her eyes in response, too tired to care.

Through their sparse meal that evening, Nick tried to keep his eyes strictly away from Ellis. Since all their shirts were hanging to dry, the hick was still very much topless, and every move he made stretched out that evenly tanned body in a way that made the Northerners skin burn.

He could imagine that El would've spent a lot of his time working on cars, shirtless, covered in grease and other car fluids, sweat drippi-

'Dangerous thoughts, shut the fuck up,' he berated himself.

When they turned in for sleep, Nick claimed first watch. The others had been surprised at his volunteering, but happily accepted.

The look in the mechanics eyes when he smiled at him in thanks was exactly the reason he had volunteered.

He had seated himself near the door, hidden by a huge shelf filled with boxes and loose papers. When he could hear the deep rumbling of Coach's snoring, the light hum of Rochelle's breathing, and the short puffs of Ellis' slumber, he reached down a ringed hand to unzip his off white slacks.

He really had tried to ward off the erection, but no amount of picturing Coach naked could keep away the wonderful images of Ellis showing off that labor toned torso.

He grazed his hand over the light fuzz on his stomach, before pulling his boxers down just enough for his dick to be released. He immediately started pulling at it, the coolness of his rings making him shiver with the contact of heated flesh.

He bit his lip to keep his breathing quiet, closing his eyes when he squeezed around his head, smearing pre-cum over his hands to make the ride smoother. It frustrated him how just the sight of the hick could get him this worked up.

Didn't stop him from picturing those calloused hands stroking him instead of his own.

When the thought of that perfectly plump mouth being anywhere near his cock entered his mind, a roll of pleasure traveled up in sharp sparks. It only took a few more hard strokes, and his other hand going down to cup his balls, to have him releasing his load onto his abs, which were less defined than the Georgian's, but still there.

He choked down a whine, sighing through his nose when the tension in his lower abdomen faded. Fuzzy with orgasm, he reached onto the floor for one of the many loose papers that were scattered about, which served to clean his stomach and hand somewhat.

He zipped up his slacks before hoisting himself up, heading over the bathroom. A small voice spoke up in a sleepy murmur, deep with a Southern drawl.

"Nickā€¦?"

The gambler gave a small smirk. "Just going to the bathroom. Go back to sleep kid."

Ellis smiled groggily, nodding before falling back onto the floor.

When Nick was in the confined white space of the bathroom, he leaned on the sink, staring into his sharp green eyes, bright with the post orgasm bliss.

"You are so fucked Nicolas."