Dustlands Crossing
Dust flew up under steps, stuck to sweaty ankles, clogged crotchrag. Rake strode ahead — red mohawk tousled, bare ripped torso, nipple rings gleaming in the sun, crotchrag low, his cock swinging heavy between legs, blaster dangling on thigh. Kicked a chunk of rusted metal — clanged, flew aside.
— Yo, bros, we'll cut through that slope faster. In Nexus Ashfall we'll dump the dust for double price, — he tossed back, not turning, step not slowing.
Kite lunged closer, slapped Rake's ass — palm smacked wet on sweat.
— Fuck, Rake, you always know! What if gangs prowl there?
Rake snorted, shoved with shoulder — Kite rocked, but laughed, body slippery from dust and sweat.
— Time's worth more, bro. Cocks chafing in crotchrag, and we're dragging ass.
Steps hummed steady, cocks rubbed on rough cloth, sweat ran down thighs, mixing with dust into crust. Mud slowed, shook his pack — canteens clinked.
— From common stores, bros. Two gulps water, half handful dust — fair, fuck. Less means more profit in Ashfall.
Poured into Kite's palms — he gulped greedy, drops ran down chest, mixed with sweat.
— Yo, cheapskate! Gimme full portion!
Mud grumbled, elbowed:
— Eat less — more profit later.
Ash held out palm silent, took his share, dust settled on calluses. Water slid on skin, mixed with salt, palm got sticky.
Steps resumed, heavier. Sand, thrall, still thinking his slavery temporary but already third year in a row renewing slave contract, usually hauling his load at the rear, stepped forward, ribs showing under dry skin, pack pounding back, torn gray crotchrag flapping, lockcage underneath pressing, metal growing into skin. He pressed thigh to Kite's mechanically — friction, sweat slippery, drop of precum crawled out from lockcage and ran down thigh.
Kite shoved with elbow, joking:
— Not now, bitch. Save strength for the haul, or you won't drag that pack.
Sand said nothing, evened his step, friction died.
Full stop — dust hung. Veer squinted right, nodded sharp.
— Fresh tracks. Chain Collectors.
Rake froze, pause hung — blaster on thigh shifted when he turned.
— Shit. We'll take that trail. Against body traders even my blaster won't always save us.
Kite chuckled nervous:
— You blaze that blaster often, bro?
— Happens! — Rake snapped.
Mud spat into dust:
— We'll burn what we could've sold on the road.
— Ok, veer off, — Kite stepped after.
Eyes slid over horizon, shoulders tensed, sweat chilled on backs. Rake nodded — go quiet. Ash sped step, breaths synced, cocks rubbed harder in crotchrag, cloth soaked.
Dust settled behind, tracks erased. Trail narrowed, packs dug deeper.
Camp and Evening
Bodies sprawled by fire — logs crackled, sweaty backs slapped ground, crotchrag shifted aside, cocks hung heavy. Rake sat first, legs spread, cock swinging between thighs, sweat ran down veins.
— Yo, fire burns, fuck.
Kite flopped beside, body slick, chest heaving.
— All day's heat pooled in ass, cock stood from fire sight alone.
Mud shook Rush packs — sticky, warm.
— Rush stores — even shares, bros.
Dealt out — gulps greedy, sticky heat hit veins, bodies warmed from inside.
— Half portion per head. Don't waste — save for Ashfall, — Mud grumbled.
Kite grabbed his:
— Gimme my dose, bro! Cock stood from fire sight, fuck.
Rake snorted, took portion, gulp — fire spread in veins.
— Need strength tomorrow.
Ash took silent, sat aside — shoulders massive, sweat ran down beard. Veer eyed dark, gulp quiet, body tensed.
Bodies pulled closer, shoulders rubbing, Rush burned skin. Kite turned to Sand:
— Yo, Sand, ass up? Shitty day.
Sand ripped off crotchrag and got on all fours, baring dry hole. Kite spat in hole to wet it, fingered massage, then pressed tongue and started licking hole greedy. Spit ran down balls.
— I'm ready, Sir...
Kite thrust sharp, ripping tight hole, kid twisted but strong hands of his fucker held him down from above, moan loud, chaotic.
Mud stepped closer. "Kite, open mouth, bitch," he said. Thrust into mouth no time to think, rhythm rough, held kid by hair. "Go on, fuck the bitch, I'll dump in you," Mud growled. Kite whined from pleasure; he loved getting fucked by the fire. Mud came quick, cum ran down Kite's chin and he like happy dog gulp fast and stuck out tongue, Mud gave friendly slap and spat in mouth to finish fuck.
"With soul, bro," Kite blurted and focused on Sand's ass, fucked through, slave under him leaked. Then reached for Rake, body shining:
— Rake, come on, chain in, bro!
Rake waved off:
— Nah, I'll hold. Strength needed tomorrow.
Ash watched — cock twitched in crotchrag, but he stayed aside. Veer watched, touched neither self nor guys.
Kite pulled cock out and with loud exhale hosed hot stream white boy cum on Sand's back.
"Step off." Veer waved to Kite. Kite got he'd catch more, went after buddy into shadow. "Ass?" Veer ignoring question silent grabbed guy by head, set on knees and technically fucked mouth. Dumped sharp, quiet growl. Pulled crotchrag right up and back to fire. Kite savored second cum dose evening.
— Fuck, I came kinda weak somehow, — Kite wouldn't quit, — Rake, come on?
— Fuck off, I'll decide when to fuck.
Mud spat:
— Right, profit beats cock in hole.
Cum dried on Sand's skin, sweat ran, ass wet from fuck, cock in cage from leaking precum. Kite licked lips tasting remnants in mouth. Fire died, bodies lay, sat — weight in muscles, Rush held heat inside.
Rake tugged nipple ring:
— Dude, Sand, that enough for you?
— Yeah... — Sand exhaled, gaze empty.
Talk of Nexus Ashfall
Silence hung, fire smoked. Bodies cooled after long haul, cum dried on Sand's back, day-sweaty cock and balls dried, fire died. Sand lay aside, ribs rose even.
Ash sat aside, cock soft in crotchrag, silent. Veer eyed dark, body tensed.
Mud poked Rush remnants in pack — bodies pulled closer to fire, heat scorched skin.
— In Ashfall dump dust double price. Good earn, bros.
Kite chuckled, sweat dropped from temple:
— Yo, neon, fresh boys! Adventure, fuck!
Rake nodded, fire reflected in eyes:
— Choice there, grab contract, Rush cheap. Cool.
Ash grumbled from shadow:
— If we make it.
Rake eyed sky, pause hung — horizon darkened. Veer shifted, shoulders clenched.
— Chain Collectors love prowling near walls, assholes.
Kite laughed nervous:
— Yo, we tough guys, or what, piss-scared pussies?
Sand whispered:
— Contract there...
Fire faded, bodies stilled, sweat chilled.
Rake spat in dust:
— Ashfall good choice sure, but risks. Ok, sort tomorrow.
Silence thickened, Rush warmed inside, but night pressed.
First Visual Touch of Ashfall
Group hit raised point — dust hung in haze, legs burned. Sat, dropped — packs dug backs, didn't drop.
— Hold, — Rake tossed.
Kite flopped:
— Fuck, legs burn, bitch.
Sand dropped by Ash, pressed mechanical — shoulder to shoulder, alien heat.
Walls showed through haze — metal lines, then shape, breaths deep, shoulders rub, muscles stretch with crack.
Kite exhaled:
— Well, looks like spot to get stuck. Neon, and young meat sucks!
Mud squinted:
— At gates by evening if no dumb. Dust double price.
Rake nodded:
— Make gates evening. Want club, techno, Rush cheap.
Veer eyed above — shadows over walls, silent. Ash stood separate, eyed space before walls, beard dusty.
— I'd stay wastes, calmer here, — Ash grumbled.
Sand whispered:
— Contract...
— Ok, rest five minutes — then go.
Rake stood, guys pulled — fresh sweat ran down shoulders hauling load. Ashfall hung distant — close, tempting, crushing.
