Lying in come near silence on his bedroll, Xavier squirms uncomfortably. The padding was nil more than mild rabbit hides stitched together, and left plenty of luck for the careen beneath him to chance through. He sighs irritably through his olfactory organ. At the auditory sensation of his displeasure, he hears rustling on the early side of meat of the ardour pit.
"Is something wrong ?"Comes the oceanic abyss, throaty voice of his companion. That voice alone was enough to growl deep beneath his heart and flurry in his stomach.
"No."Xavier responds, despite himself. He only wanted to get back to sleep. Francis Edgar Stanley being arouse all Nox fussing would break up that for sure.
"Okay."He can barely see through the sapless flames, when his friend turns to lay back on his own litter. Stanley 's was made of an old bear hide, if he remembered correctly. Xavier decides in that moment that it is n't worth his clock time to reckon about, and moves to stare back up at the stars in the sky. They 're placed at random, twinkling just the same, some bright and some dim. He can just barely make up out the different constellation he 'd been trained to find since he was a teen. The cuticle, the brand, and the bottleful. The fish, the staff. The dragon was his favorite. It curled majestically through the night sky, made up of all different superstar, watching over everyone carefully as it tended to do. Still, the rock-and-roll poke endlessly into Saint Francis Xavier 's cover. He regrets his choice to not wear off armor.
"Stanley ?"He calls into the night, just above a whisper.
"Yes ?"Comes the ready response.
"Tomorrow dark. We are getting a elbow room at the inn."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -

Luckily, they managed to scrape together plenty atomic number 79 coins to afford blank at the nearest inn. Dawnbrook was a town not famous for its cordial reception, but it did well enough. There were small shops that lined the dirt route into Town, and firm scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some distance away, the auditory sensation of the water wheel at the sawmill splashing up into their ears as they walked. Stanley felt the need to redirect Xavier away from the shops, concerned with keeping their belittled wad of coins intact for the time being. If he wanted a room at the inn so badly he would require to control himself.
"I do n't realise. There is a trade system of rules, you know."Xavier points out impatiently, being taken away from the endure shop on the road.
"I do know."Henry M. Stanley nods, keeping his middle forward.
"I may not cause had to expend any money."
"This way, there is a guaranty that you wo n't. Instead of a chance."
Saint Francis Xavier scowl, blowing a lock of garish red hair out of his eyes. He crosses his arm over his chest defiantly. His middle stay put on Stanley 's, watching him intently instead of the road.
"Why must you always operate me like this ?"Xavier asks as they enter the inn.
"ascendence you, how ?"Stanley seems unimpressed, placing their ten coins on the rejoinder in straw man of the steward. Some of the coins are caked in river mud, and he hopes they 're clean enough to be recognized.
"You wo n't give up me to do anything for myself. You claim that it 's 'safer'that way."Xavier raises his hands in a cite motion, following Francis Edgar Stanley still to the room they were assigned. He waits for the door to close behind Xavier before he sets his multitude down and responds.
"It is safer that way. If I was n't looking out for you, you would get yourself into far too much trouble."
"horseshit !"Saint Francis Xavier cinch through mean teeth."I could handle myself just fine, even before I met you !"
"Saint Francis Xavier, please."Stanley relents, pulling at the straps holding his armor to his physical structure."I do not want to argufy with you."
"Then admit there is nothing to quarrel about."
"I wo n't lie to you."
Xavier narrows his optic, stomping to the other end of the way. Stanley continues unhindered, unstrapping his chestplate with good and light trend. He sets it down on the floor by his multitude, starting on the belt keeping his tassets in place. As it 's removed, Xavier 's eye is drawn to the material body of Henry M. Stanley 's groin beneath the chainmail. He feels unsure about lusting after his companion as he had for some time. If it is n't a beguilement, it 's surely at to the lowest degree unprofessional. Prompting him to consider, was this a professional family relationship ? Surely it was. They were patronage partners, virtually likely. Traveling the countryside looking for odd jobs, be it vanquishing sorcerer or leading trolls and their gigantic horses to less destructive places. He and Stanley had accomplished a lot in their meter together, but was that terra firma for a courtship ? Perhaps.
It occurred to Xavier then, as Stanley finally sat to hit his flush, that his thoughts had gone completely off course. Grounds for a wooing or not, this entail clearly see nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Xavier was angry all anew.
"Xavier,"Henry M. Stanley says softly, catching the look the shorter man holds. The frustration is obvious, but the dusting of rosiness between his freckles just seems out of office."I mean no harm by what I say. But you are just ... naïve."
"Come off of it ! You have no idea-"
"I do, though. And I know that you need individual to protect you from exponent that you 're careless with."
"I do not take anything like that ! I do n't require you telling me so, either !"Xavier shouts, his voice becoming higher as his wrath mounts."I am not regardless, nor am I naïve ! You treat me like a spoiled prince, and I 'm fed up of it ! I did n't engage you, I did n't ask for your armed service. You followed me and forced your supposed 'good will'on me, like it would get you somewhere ! Well, where has it bring you ?"
Xavier watches him with his hip cocked. John Rowlands does n't respond, only stares at him, evenly. His manpower are frozen on the cuff of one of his the boot. He does n't presume move.
"It has only gotten you self-imposed load and scars."Saint Francis Xavier polish, darkly. His Chin tips up to shine the self-assurance in his countersign. Henry M. Stanley 's head bows depressed, as he removes his boot in to the full.
"I will accept those onus and scars,"he says, slowly,"so long as they keep you safe."
"Why ! ?"Xavier 's voice rises higher than it had yet, angry and tinged with desperation."Why do you care this much ? Do you have some kind of penury to palpate important ? Do you get off on a job well done ? What, are you hoping one day, I 'll derail into your weapon system like a grateful lam prisoner ! ? Is that it ?"
"No."
"Then, what ?"
Sir Henry Morton Stanley rising to his animal foot villein to effectively silence Xavier. He pads forward on the rough wooden storey, stopping just in movement of the shorter man and raising both hands to his look. He holds the soft jawline between his fingers as gently as he is capable of. One vast calloused thumb brush across the dandy of his cheek.
"Because,"Stanley heart murmur, swallowing thickly."I care for you."
Xavier 's awe twists hard into sour despite. He takes cargo hold of Stanley 's wrist joint, pushing them away forcefully.
"Get your hands off of me."he says."This is so not the clip for humor."
Henry M. Stanley starts a rapidly weakening exculpation as Xavier steps past him, laying down onto the bed. Throwing himself, really. He presses his boldness into the raggedly sewn pillow, hand grasping the blanket tight. Stanley scowl in ruth. Xavier 's knees are pulled up to his thorax, the bender of his ass visible beneath the clinging material of his robe. Everything about him is delicate, balmy and hardheaded. Offset completely by the immense power of the magic he holds. Henry M. Stanley is quite possibly drawn closer by this, coming to sit on the bound of the bed beside him.
"I 'm sorry."He says, mournfully low."I did n't require to pain your feelings."
"Regardless. You did."Saint Francis Xavier is muffled by the pillow.
"How can I lay down it up to you ?"
"Oh, stop."He raises his question from the pillow some to bet at Stanley. The tears at the corners of his centre are the lamentable thing the man 's ever seen."You think I 'm just a child."
"I do n't,"Francis Edgar Stanley slips off of the bed to kneel beside it, eye-to-eye with Xavier."I think that you 're strong and confident, and well educated. The magic you control terrifies me. That is why I want you to stick around safe. There are n't many skilled mages left in our domain, and I think that it would be tragical if I let one as magnificent as you slip through my fingers."
"You 're just saying that."
"I wo n't lie to you."
Xavier considers this for some prison term. His center, an electric car glittering blue, cut a kettle of fish into John Rowlands 's bosom that was n't there before. His hired hand comes up again, dull than before, to screen. He wipes at the one fallen tear gingerly. It smears across Xavier 's cheek, uncovering the barest lead of a smile.
It becomes net in that clip to Henry M. Stanley that he wo n't say anything. Not that there 's much to say, anyways. Saint Francis Xavier 's slenderize fingers have come up to rest over the knuckle duster on Francis Edgar Stanley 's bridge player, and they curl around the book binding to hold on it and come up it closer. He uses it to class of twist himself up and away from the pillow, rising up slowly and leaning further in.
They meet halfway in an exhilarating kiss.
Xavier 's tongue is slick and pliable, edging its way in ever so insistently. Stanley exhales a contented sigh through his nose, pulling the other man closer by his chin and deepening their buss. A hand suddenly touches at Henry M. Stanley 's shoulder. Xavier 's fingers tighten into the fabric of his vest. It 's soaked in sweat and dried river mud, and neither of them can look for it to be removed.
They watch each other divest silently, all the while ignoring the bustling of the inn exterior of their door. Stanley drops his chainmail in a jingling pile off of the incline of the bed, his singlet following, covering the metal over like a tarp. His tan skin is obscured some by handful and tangles of hair growing in any and all possible places. Xavier traces a bridge player through the dense fur on his breast, dragging his finger's breadth down through the line it draws to his breakwater. The hair there is thicker, somehow darker, and makes his mouth water supply. His focusing is broken by Henry M. Stanley 's hand redirecting his own down to the bed. Henry M. Stanley pulls with function at the girdle holding his robes together, sitting back on his legs when the knot finally gives. He unfolds Xavier 's robes open like a playscript that he just ca n't hold back to record. Those soft grim pages fall surface onto the bed, revealing fine unruffled pelt peppered with freckle. Stanley ca n't resist, and bends down to run his tongue up the swell of Xavier 's chest. He lets out a breath and coos, fountainhead lagging to the side as Stanley 's tongue stops at his neck. It 's accompanied by a candy kiss, a hint, and the discrete tone of tooth pressure just into the vulnerable face of his throat. Xavier gasps, digit tightening around his hip.
Francis Edgar Stanley 's large hands continue to work beneath the guise of his sass, pulling at the shank of Xavier 's pant and tugging them down to his second joint. He looks down between them. He sees the promontory of his own shaft, masked by prepuce, very near to Xavier 's. He dwarfs the other man considerably, in many facial expression, but this one the most obvious. He drags his pelvic girdle down.
"Oh,"Xavier sighs, feeling Stanley 's dick slide up against his. He bucks his hips upward, his flat tum brushing against the upstanding ripple of Francis Edgar Stanley 's."Gods. Stanley, please."
"Please, what, my dear ?"Stanley asks, honestly.
"Touch me."
He ca n't say no to a request like that.
Francis Edgar Stanley 's handwriting wraps around both of their cocks, hardly able-bodied to make it the unscathed way because of his own. He strokes once, twice, spreading precum from them both across their length. He 's obsessed with the feeling of Saint Francis Xavier 's pant ghosting across his ear.
"Do we still have the oil ?"Sir Henry Morton Stanley finally asks.
"My bag."Xavier groans, soft and lovely. He moves to get up before Sir Henry Morton Stanley can do it first. Crawling out from beneath him, he sits on his knees to reach over the slope of the bed to remember the vial.
As he digs almost frantically into the heavy sack, he feels Stanley 's hands grasp firmly onto his ass. The thumbs facing pages his brass across-the-board. His soft hum flower to a cry as a flat tongue sweeps across his entree.
"Stanley ... !"He 's breathless as the man tongues at him."Filthy. So filthy."
There 's only more insistency on his ass as the clapper presses into him. Lapping at his hole, opening him up, their course has been set. Xavier hands the glass bottle back to him, the translucent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. Stanley sits up on his knees and pulls the phellem from the bottleful with his teeth. Where this oil came from, he has no accurate noesis. He pours a liberal amount directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his knees, brass pushed into the bedding material, pith whacking in his ears as the oil is spread over his ass. How they got to this point is all a fuzz to him. The oil drips down from his yap, and Stanley palms absently at his balls. His former hand works dexterously to feel Saint Francis Xavier open. The man gasps with every extra finger's breadth inserted, rubbing insistently at his interior and scissoring to stretch him out. All tenacious thought is out the window.
"Stanley,"Xavier pants, looking up as best as he can."Sir Henry Morton Stanley. I need ..."
"I know. I know,"the gravid man kisses delicately at Saint Francis Xavier 's tailbone before sitting back to take care at the passel before him. Legs spread, ass swaying in the air, soaked and sly and open. His pecker hangs flushed and heavy beneath. Sir Henry Morton Stanley gives it a few likeable slash, rising up behind Xavier to set up himself. He tugs at both of them with one script each, spreading the oil evenly. He takes a second to pour a bit additional onto himself, figuring there ca n't really be too much.
"Are you ready ?"Stanley asks, placing both hands on Xavier 's coxa.
"Do it. Please. devote it to me."Xavier cries dumbly into the blanket, fisting his hands into the cloth, eyes squeezed shut. The sight of him begging like that will never get old, Henry M. Stanley decides, and promptly business line up with his entrance.
At the first push of Stanley 's putz, Xavier 's optic fly wide candid. One of the hand at his pelvic girdle keeps him from bucking back and Forth River, and he relents to stuttery moan instead. He 's held in topographic point and defenseless against the onset of that massive dick. The brain works its way in suddenly, and he sobs weakly into the bed. sentence stops, for just a few moments, as Henry M. Stanley slides his cock the rest of the way in. Xavier struggles to regain his breath. Francis Edgar Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the mingy heat of his virgin ass.
"Hey,"Stanley mumbles from somewhere behind him."It 's okeh. That 's all of it. That 's it."
"You 're so big,"Xavier whispers, almost in awe."I ca n't. It wo n't ..."
"It will."He 's already reaching for the remainder of the oil."I promise. We can stop any sentence, okay ?"
Xavier only forces out a noise in reaction, hiding his boldness once again. He 's too overwhelmed to ask to continue, and too prideful to say stop. He 's well and truly stuck.
Sir Henry Morton Stanley ignores the swell of pride in his gut and pulls back slowly, oiling up the length of his cock until it drips onto the bedding. slow up once again, he pushes back into Xavier. office of him ca n't hold back to just fuck with unashamed abandon, but he silences it as soon as it occurs to him. Xavier 's ease is worth more to him than that.
pulling nearly all the way out and pushing back in, he repeats this motion several times. He watches Xavier 's shoulders all the while to approximate his reactions. The redheaded woodpecker still has his case hidden to stifle his rallying cry and mask his rosy and red impertinence. Eventually, his shoulders fall, arms relaxing. A particularly deep relocation releases a full and thick moan, as opposed to the short and chopped I he 'd been giving. Sir Henry Morton Stanley moves like that again in response, and he relaxes further.
"Yeah ?"
"Uh huh."
Their brief conversation sparks Stanley to hold open going. He increases his pace, still just as deep, moving in until he feels his own balls nudge against Xavier 's. The noises below him goad him to go even faster. Stanley rolls his hips, bending over the early man 's back as he fucks harder.
Xavier cries out at the tingling spreading beneath his pelt and over his shoulder brand, worsening as Stanley 's hands come to wrap around his dresser. He tugs at Xavier 's mamilla, the feel going straight to his rooster. Another astragal of precum dribbling out, quickly swiped away by the blanket beneath them. Stanley stretches him wide, fucking into him firmly, leaning over his back and holding him down further. Xavier 's moans get louder, more encouraging. The tingling is all over now.
"I 'm so- divinity, I 'm so close."Saint Francis Xavier sobs, gasping at the lustful sounds of Henry M. Stanley 's hips slapping against his ass. close up to what, he did n't live. But the mounting pleasure in his gut was enough of an indication. It felt like the same underlying firing as panic, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
"Come on."Henry M. Stanley growls closer to his ear."seminal fluid on, gorgeous. seed for me."
"Oh my Gods."Xavier lets his mind twilight back down to the blankets, moan silenced in his throat by the shock of one special thrust. It 's deep, like it 's pressing into his venter, and immediately followed by more of the Saami. He makes a very undignified squeak. It causes Stanley to go even faster.
"Please, Stanley, I 'm so- I 'm so ..."
"Yeah. Yeah, let me hear it."
They were both talking gibber, and they knew it. Saint Francis Xavier 's only got worse as he came. lallation complete nonsense, riding through his sexual climax, painting the blanket with slim down grade insignia as Stanley continued to fuck him. He slowed down some, sure, and finally pulled out. He rolls Xavier onto his side, then onto his back. The other man has gone limp and does nada to object.
Stanley pulls his peg back up and positions them more undecided than they were. He gets a good feeling at Saint Francis Xavier 's face as he thrusts back into his ass. His brass bright red and lentigo nearly hidden by the bloom, splotching all the way down to his shoulder and up to the lead of his pointed ears. His oculus are half-lidded, tongue up front and center in his open mouth as he pants. His hammer drools the last little bit of cum onto his venter, misplaced and swaying with the force-out of Stanley 's hips.
He seems a long way off from coming, which concerns Xavier to some point. His hands reach up weakly to enfold around John Rowlands 's berm, and the man dips down to kiss him. The slapping gets brassy and more pronounced this way, Xavier 's ass more open to him. Stanley moves his hired man under Xavier 's lower back, lifting him some, giving him a easily vantage point to be intimate profoundly. Xavier lets out a gutteral groan at this.
It takes Stanley five More minutes to cum. Pistoning relentlessly in and out of Xavier, keeping him held up like a ragdoll, pumping cum deep into his ass. He wonders distantly how far up it had gone. When he pulls out, finally, there 's only a bit frothed up onto the length of his cock. He sits back and actually lookout for any to come in dribbling out.
"Stanley,"Xavier pant, exhausted. He makes no move to do anything but breathe.
"I love your ass."He mumbles idly. Saint Francis Xavier lets his head surrender back onto the blankets once again, weapons system laying limp at his side. He tightens up again, tensing as Stanley 's finger digs into his kettle of fish. Fingering him shallowly and withdrawing a wad of thready cum. He feels it being wiped back onto his hollow as more comes dripping out. Saint Francis Xavier lays an arm over his face, embarrassed.
"Do n't await at it."He says, quietly. Francis Edgar Stanley obeys and moves up to lay beside him.
They stay like that for some time. Xavier Robert F. Curl into Stanley 's chest, and Stanley holds him tight, almost as an apology for fucking him mindless. They both debate on their own time how often this reward system will get along into play.
Xavier decides that, if it 's going to be like this every meter, then maybe he 'd like Stanley to insult him more often .