For the second time, Caelan was left breathless with want. Their lips parted and Caelan trailed after him, eyes blissfully closed. He opened them finally and blinked, cheeks tinged pink. Dusty hoisted him onto the boat’s edge in a manner that made him feel like he must weigh only ten pounds soaking wet. Well, maybe he did. Caelan stood carefully from the edge of the boat with a playful roll of his eyes. “How is it I knew you would pick the fish over me?” He caught the gun with a grin and traded it for his shirt, setting it safely down beside his jeans. Caelan swiped his shirt over his body quickly and tossed it down before peeling off his boxers. Dusty was busy with the fish, so he cared less about giving him a show.<br/><br/>He stepped into his jeans and fastened the button with pruny fingers. He draped his boxers and shirt on the bench to dry and picked up the gun. In an afterthought, Caelan grabbed the cloth bag of fruits and slung it over his shoulder. Caelan raised his brow as the man gestured towards the ramshackle building closest to the boat. It was nestled amongst the Spanish moss and murky black water.<br/><br/>Dusty’s direction didn’t phase Caelan, and instead of commenting or questioning, he dutifully followed after. His stomach rumbled. The few satsumas he stuffed down his throat weren’t enough to fully satisfy him, so he guessed getting a bit of freshly cooked fish out of the day wouldn’t be so bad. Caelan stepped over the edge of the boat and only the rickety dock. It moved beneath his weight and he followed Dusty’s path with bare feet, careful to avoid the rusted nails that poked out of the aged wood. He held the gun under his arm, the mouth of it pointed towards the sky, just like Dusty taught him.<br/><br/>Caelan noticed the graves before Dusty mentioned them, calmed in a way by the sight of them. He supposed it was a better ending than sinking down to the bottom of this area of the river. Caelan stood behind as Dusty traveled on towards the building. He stared at the markers, wondering faintly what his own grave might look like. Would he have his very own spot next to the water? Or would he pass away in his city apartment with no one to bury him?<br/><br/>Caelan stayed for a few moments longer before joining Dusty on the porch. “I don’t have anywhere to be.” He delivered the bag of fruits onto one of the chairs and approached Dusty before he had the chance to dirty his hands with fish scales and guts. “You know,” he murmured, grasping the man’s chin between his thumb and fist, “I like when you call me<i>Etranje</i>. The only rise you'll get out of me is in bed, so keep doing it.” Caelan leaned in to kiss him softly, the taste of tobacco and stout on the man’s tongue. He smiled against his lips and let his fingertips graze the man’s hip before he pulled away. “I’ll find a pot.”<br/><br/>The boy was running off of pure adrenaline and the feeling carried him through the door and<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fc8.alamy.com%2Fcomp%2FKHNGCW%2Fbilly-the-kid-hideaway-in-silver-city-new-mexico-KHNGCW.jpg&amp;hash=c5cf59e865857528c7e0474e93ef19af" href="https://c8.alamy.com/comp/KHNGCW/billy-the-kid-hideaway-in-silver-city-new-mexico-KHNGCW.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"> into the shack</a>. His breath caught as he stood just inside the door, feet planted firmly on a woven rug. It was surprisingly clean for the most part. Everything was arranged in a way that made him wonder if the family that lived here knew that they were dying. The bed was made, dishes stacked on the small buffet table. There were dried leaves, as if the window had been left open, or maybe even the remnants of flowers of mourning scattered over the floor. He approached the cabinet and pulled the twin doors open, stooping to peer inside. There was very little by way of cookware - a few cast iron pans and thick pots. Caelan fished it from the cabinet and blew the dust away.