A Winding Path

“So this is your bike?”

Wyatt posed the question after Pacer led him to the spot where the vehicle was hidden away. The older boy had tugged on a loose section of wall from a long dilapidated shed which was collapsed on one side. It wasn’t a terrible spot, only for the lack of options. 

“Yeah,” Pacer displayed the bike in front of himself. “It’s only mine because I keep it hidden. I don’t take it out of the city often either. It’s not the best I’ve seen, but it works. That’s enough for most people to fight me for it. And it’s easier than keeping a horse!”

Wyatt scrutinized the machine. It looked sturdy enough but it wasn’t exactly roomy.  He wondered how far it would take them.

“So, if you sit on the seat.” Pacer slapped a hand down on the padded spot, “I can just stand on the pedals when I’m not pedalling. Down hills will be the easiest for sure.”

“Ok. But what will I hang on to?” There was a bar that looked like it was meant to come up behind the seat, possibly for support or to house an attachment. It was broken off. 

“You can hold onto me.” Pacer answered nonchalantly. He glanced over at Wyatt and registered something and chuckled. 

“Don’t get too handsy, though!”

Wyatt felt his face flush and he didn’t know what to say after the playful barb. The thought of holding onto Pacer made him uneasy. Pacer started to walk the bike toward the road that had brought them here yesterday. 

“It doesn’t go super fast, so if you fall off you won’t die! But I’d rather you not get hurt again so just hang on any way you feel comfortable. I don’t care where.”

“Hey, wait.” Wyatt trotted up to follow Pacer, scanning the horizon around them. “So, where are we going? I mean, I want to go back to the city but if I do that now I’d have to quarantine for like months! At this point they’ll likely just kick me out or something.”

Pacer gave Wyatt an incredulous look and then he too looked to the horizon. Initially, he was going to head back towards his home and find a spot along the way to hunker down for a while, though his original plan when he ventured out was to find a promising place for him and his girlfriend to claim as their own. The land he was hoping to scope out he had spotted last year during an extended hunting trip. It was entirely possible that he could bring Wyatt with him to do so and also spend time quarantined together. It would achieve both goals. 

“Well, I have an idea about that.” Pacer told Wyatt what he was just thinking. After a few moments of thinking it over Wyatt glanced back at Pacer. 

“How far away is it?”

“From here, quite a few days walking. So, less with the bike.”

Wyatt studied Pacer for a few heart beats, which honestly was a shorter time than usual at the moment—the thought of venturing off with someone completely new filled him with a lot of uncertainty. Pacer was nice enough, and seemed assertive and confident too. So far, Wyatt had no reason to not trust the older boy. As much as he wanted to find reasons to go back home, it truly looked like the best thing was to stay with Pacer and hope for the best—at least for a while. 

“Okay, let’s do it.” As he agreed, Wyatt felt the uneasiness in his belly subside somewhat. 

“I think I should wear this in the front,” Pacer staged the bike in the middle of the road and adjusted his over the shoulder bag so the bulk of it was on his chest. When he was all set he got into position in front of the seat and motioned for Wyatt to get onto the bike behind him. Being a little taller, Wyatt had no trouble resting onto the seat, balancing there with both feet not quite flat on the ground. 

“Try to balance yourself on the seat and hang on to me for support. You can rest your feet near the wheel when we get going.”

Wyatt looked down and saw that there was a sort of small tab jutting out on either side that he could use, though it would force his knees up. He wasn’t sure how well it would work.

“Ready?”

Before Wyatt could respond the bike started forward and the sudden jolt of motion caused Wyatt to gasp and latch onto Pacer frantically. Those first few moments were off balance but Pacer steered and managed to build momentum though he stifled a chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he offered over his shoulder. 

“It’s ok,” was all that Wyatt replied with. His arms had wrapped around Pacer’s torso but his hands were clutching at the bag at the other boy’s chest. It was difficult to steady himself as they moved along, weaving around obstacles and over bumps. 

“Wyatt! Just hang on to me.”

A little more confident now, Wyatt moved his hands one at a time onto Pacer’s shoulders. There he could steady himself more whole also relaxing his grip as they made progress. 

“That’s better, right?” Pacer turned to ask after a few minutes. When he twisted his torso, Wyatt could feel the lean muscles of those shoulders undulate and flex. 

“Y-yeah.” Wyatt nodded.

“Ok, I’m going to go a little faster now.” Pacer leaned forward a fraction and bike’s speed increased. It might have been a fraction faster but it felt like they were glowing at least twice as fast now. Pacer’s maneuvers were noticeably more swift. Eventually, Wyatt started to pick up on small cues from Pacer’s body about his intentions. He also felt the need to keep an eye on the road ahead as well by looking over the other’s shoulder as they zipped along. 

Before long, Wyatt started to enjoy himself. Periodically Pacer would start to pedal the machine for short bursts and each time the rhythmic motion of his body would distract Wyatt from anything else. Pacer’s physical exertion made him acutely aware of how close their bodies were, especially since his knees were at either side of his narrow waist and his hands were clamped onto the his shoulders. Also, as they crossed the countryside the warm air that washed over Pacer then rippled around Wyatt. Even when they were going faster Wyatt had plenty of time to savour, even to revel, in Pacer’s particular body odour. Mildly musky and masculine, but also somewhat sweet—oddly it reminded him of one time he tasted cinnamon. 

Thankfully, there weren’t too many hills, and those that they did climb were low so the pedalling sessions were always short. The road they travelled finally crossed a wide coulee, at the bottom of which was a modest creek meandering the length of the natural crease in the landscape. 

“Let’s take a short break here!” Pacer slowed near the bottom.

“It’s nice to stretch my legs.” Wyatt remarked as he took a few steps, groaning and flexing each of his legs in turn.   

“Nice to rest mine!” Pacer echoed the movements to a lesser degree. “We can stretch and piss and whatever but I don’t want to stay here too long. We could be surprised very easily.”

“True.” Wyatt agreed. If anyone happened upon them they would have very little warning. 

“When we get going again I’ll pedal up that hill to help regen some of the charge on the bike—if you don’t mind walking for a bit.”

“Sure, I don’t mind.” Wyatt turned towards Pacer and saw that he was standing at the edge of the road and began urinating into the grass. Wyatt noticed he was standing at a three quarters perspective and even though it wasn’t enough to spy any details he whirled around quickly. 

“You really like to show me your backside, eh?” Pacer teased. 

“Sorry.”

“Again, you don’t have to apologize. I don’t care if you see anything.”

Another moment passed before footsteps approached behind Wyatt. Along with his return was the now familiar aroma. When Pacer spoke again he was much closer. 

“Besides, if you make me uncomfortable at all, I’ll let you know. No need to be uptight about it.”

Wyatt turned slightly and nodded. Pacer was a few feet away with his hands on his hips surveying around them. He then raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. It was now mid morning and the sun was generously warm already, though it could be because the cooler didn’t fully benefit from any breeze that moved along the prairies above. Wyatt’s eyes jumped to the dark patch of underarm hair that his baggy tee shirt revealed at this angle. 

In the moment before he wrestled his eyes away, that glimpse sent a pulse of excitement through Wyatt’s body. Silently, he chastised himself. 

“Well, nowhere but up!” Pacer returned to the bike.

In short order they set off again, Pacer pedalling the bike up the hill just ahead of Wyatt who was on foot and quite aware that his legs needed the movement. He watched the older boy pedalling up a zigzag path gaining altitude up as the road climbed the side of the coulee, somehow the mechanics of how his body propelled the bike and transferred energy with his legs was interesting. 

It was at least another hour before they stopped again.

“Need to rest again?” Wyatt assumed. 

“Nope.” Pacer dug around within his bag and withdrew a small set of binoculars. He handed them over his shoulder to Wyatt. 

“Take a look ahead. That overpass is an old hideout.”

The road that they had been following had ended about a kilometre back at a tee intersection with an old access road running along side a secondary highway. With the binoculars Wyatt could see the overpass ahead where that route met up with, and continued over, a larger highway below.  There was a number of old abandoned vehicles scattered across the overpass the made a starlight line path near impossible. Also, at this angle it was hard to tell but it seemed like there were larger vehicles packed together underneath the bridge deck. 

“Yeah, seems pretty sketch to me.” Wyatt handed the binoculars back to Pacer. 

“I think that place was taken out years ago, but I don’t want to risk being ambushed by anyone. We will have to backtrack a little and circle around in case there is activity there.”

They turned around and took an alternate route. When Pacer was finally confident that they were back on track he resumed pedalling for a spell. A few sparsely placed clouds provided little relief from the early afternoon sun. It was still early in the season, so it wasn’t scorching, but the breeze had all but died as well. Wyatt began to feel the sweat soaking through Pacer’s shirt. 

“Hey, wanna switch?”

Pacer didn’t respond at first. Wyatt was about to lean in closer to repeat himself, but then the older boy stopped pedalling and let the bike’s electric motor take over.

“Yeah! That’s a good idea.” Pacer huffed his answer between breaths. 

They came to a stop near the edge of an old farm. There was an old rusted out combine harvester stuck in the ditch further up the road. It was one of the manually driven ones from before when automation was widespread. 

They both dismounted from the bike and glanced around. 

“Somebody thought they could steal it,” Pacer nodded towards the wreck and chuckled. He shrugged off his pack, which fell to the ground at his feet and promptly pulled off his shirt. He struggled a moment because the dampened fabric stuck to his skin stubbornly. 

“I’m too damn sweaty!” Pacer growled through the tangled tee shirt. As he struggle he almost tripped over the bag at his feet.

“Here!” Wyatt lurched forward to help and guided his companion away from any hazards. After a few tugs and grunts Pacer was free and topless.

“Where the fuck is the breeze?!” Pacer took a few steps in the direction of a very languid breeze. His skin glistened in the sun, the lean muscles in his outstretched arms were highlighted by the shimmering moisture and his torso was accentuated by the dripping and beading sweat. 

Wyatt was standing there with the drenched shirt in his hand and he realized that he too was breaking a sweat just standing still. He could feel the effects of the sun on his exposed forearms and knew that he would suffer a sunburn if he wasn’t careful. 

“Hey, I don’t know if you need it, but I have some sunblock.” The fair haired boy offered. He swung his own backpack around and opened it up. It was a hand made cream that he had started to bring on long trips, especially during the warmer months. It cost a full credit but after learning the hard way last summer, it was worth it. 

Pacer combed his fingers through his thick dark hair and shook the sweat off his hands afterwards. He watched Wyatt open up a fair sized can of the cream and lightly rubbing it into his arms. Watching, he stood there a moment longer with his hands interlocked begin his head trying the maximize his exposure to the poor excuse of a breeze. The younger boy’s arms looked a little red, but he was also sweating now too—his mousey blonde hair was noticeably darkened and matted down wetly. 

“Take off your shirt.” Wyatt froze, his blue eyes locking onto Pacer’s. “If you’re going to take over, you’ll probably sweat more than me in this heat. So take off your shirt and I’ll help you make sure you don’t miss a spot.”

Wyatt broke eye contact and furrowed his brow. He screwed the top back onto the can and was about to respond when Pacer had stepped forward and reached in to grab the kitten in Wyatt’s pocket. It started to meow in protest. He bent down and placed the feline on top of the backpack and stood up again. He grabbed the can from Wyatt’s hand and stared up at the boy. 

“Go on. Off with it.” Pacer had been in a leadership role a few times, with his hunting guild. Often he would have to give orders and reign in people with shorter attention spans. It was his bossy voice as his girlfriend called it. He used it now on Wyatt, who sheepishly complied. 

Wyatt, while keeping an eye on the little furball at their feet, pulled his arms out one by one to make sure he didn’t get tangled up like Pacer, and then he grabbed the wreath of material around his neck, pulled it over his head and stood in front of Pacer feeling like he was suddenly fully exposed even thought he only took off one item of clothing. 

Pacer handed the can back to Wyatt and told him to open it. He then promptly used both hands and gingerly dipped his fingers into the cream and then ordered the blonde boy to spread his arms. He began to dab the cream on his fingers across the boy’s shoulders and down his chest. Sweat already dotted the pale skin. He even stepped around and dabbed a few generous spots down Wyatt’s back. Then Pacer began to spread those spots by rubbing them into the rest of the untanned torso. His hands worked the slippery cream across the shoulder blades and down the spine and around the sides. In front, he worked the cream into the shoulders and chest. He was a little gentler with Wyatt’s belly. 

Pacer noticed that Wyatt was now looking forward stone-faced, his gaze just above his crown of thick hair. It was obvious that the boy was tense and somehow that made Pacer tense up as well.

“Arms.” Was all Pacer said when he reached for the can again, this time he only dabbed a couple of fingers in and proceeded to apply the cream to Wyatt’s upper arms. He could feel the boy’s biceps were surprisingly developed underneath a layer of surface fat. The kid wasn’t chubby by any means, but there was a lot of potential strength below the surface. 

That’s when he noticed that Wyatt was watching him.

“What?” Pacer used the residue on his hands to lightly apply some protection onto the back of his own neck and shoulders. The look on Wyatt’s face was odd, almost as if he was looking at a puzzle with no solution. 

“So, you wanted to switch?” Pacer asked. 

“Switch? You want me to…”

“The bike. Your turn to drive.” Pacer indicated the vehicle with a sideways nod. “We should get going.”

“Oh! Yeah…” 

After finding a snug pocket on his bag to tuck the kitten into, Wyatt had a little difficulty starting off and getting used to controlling the bike. It didn’t help that because of the height difference it was a lot easier for Pacer to hold on to Wyatt by the waist. Having hands placed on his body in that area nearly triggered his ticklish response a few times. It didn’t help that his skin was freshly coated with the sunblock and the skin to skin contact had a strange feel to it. 

“Are you ok?” Pacer asked.

“Yeah,” Wyatt answered back trying to keep his eyes on the road. He gulped nervously as he felt Pacer’s hands let off on pressure just above his hips. He tried to suppress the involuntary twitching sensation building. 

“Actually, I’m kinda ticklish.” He admitted over his shoulder. 

“Really?” Maybe it was the wind in his ears as he drove along, but something in Pacer’s tone sounded mischievous. 

After a wordless half kilometre or Wyatt struggled with what to say next. He was still fighting the urge to twitch and even giggle. He had no idea how to make it better and keep from feeling foolish about it. He could even feel the sweat trickling down from his armpits, tracing meandering path that threatened to reach where Pacer’s hands were placed. That made him more self conscious. 

Finally, Pacer spoke again with a simple, “where should I put my hands?”

Again, words failed Wyatt. The mixed sensations he was feeling were at odds. It felt like making an impossible choice, but he knew it shouldn’t be this difficult. 

“Wyatt,” Pacer’s voice was somehow louder yet softer.

The blond boy took a deep breath and with one hand at a time reached back and guided each of Pacer’s to a spot on his torso that didn’t set off a ticklish response, ignoring that it was squarely in the path that his sweat favoured. He also pressed each hand gently to let the other know it was better to apply firm pressure. 

Pacer complied, taking the hint. From behind Wyatt he studied the taller boy trying to interpret the signals. He knew that the younger boy was attracted to him. Part of him wanted to press further to get a reaction but now he was second guessing himself. He remembered the moment when Wyatt was describing finding the kitten and how his face filled with sorrow so quickly. He found himself genuinely wanting to know more about Wyatt. 

While Pacer was reflecting, his hands subconsciously squeezed. Though it did incite an involuntary reaction from his body, Wyatt was thankful it wasn’t a reaction that risked him loosing control of the bike suddenly. He frequently found himself biting his lip, however.