Lying in near muteness on his bedroll, Xavier squirms uncomfortably. The padding was naught more than soft rabbit pelt stitched together, and left plentifulness of chances for the Rock beneath him to bump through. He sighs irritably through his olfactory organ. At the audio of his displeasure, he hears rustling on the early side of the flame pit.
"Is something wrong ?"Comes the deep, throaty vocalization of his companion. That articulation alone was enough to grumble deep beneath his core and stir in his stomach.
"No."Xavier responds, despite himself. He only wanted to get back to sleep. Sir Henry Morton Stanley being awaken all nighttime fussing would interrupt that for sure.
"Okay."He can barely see through the debile flames, when his friend turns to lay back on his own bedding. Francis Edgar Stanley 's was made of an old bear hide, if he remembered correctly. Saint Francis Xavier decides in that moment that it is n't worth his time to think about, and moves to gaze back up at the lead in the sky. They 're placed at random, twinkling just the Same, some bright and some dim. He can just barely make out the different constellation he 'd been trained to rule since he was a teen. The shield, the sword, and the bottle. The fish, the staff. The dragon was his favorite. It curled majestically through the night sky, made up of all dissimilar stars, watching over everyone carefully as it tended to do. Still, the rocks poke endlessly into Saint Francis Xavier 's back. He regrets his selection to not wear armor.
"Stanley ?"He calls into the night, just above a whisper.
"Yes ?"Comes the make response.
"Tomorrow night. We are getting a room at the inn."

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

Luckily, they managed to scrape together enough gold coins to afford outer space at the good inn. Dawnbrook was a town not famous for its hospitality, but it did well enough. There were small shops that lined the dirt road into town, and houses scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some aloofness away, the sound of the water bicycle at the lumbermill splashing up into their ears as they walked. Stanley felt the want to redirect Xavier away from the shops, concerned with keeping their modest wad of coins intact for the time being. If he wanted a way at the inn so badly he would necessitate to operate himself.
"I do n't understand. There is a barter system, you know."Xavier point out impatiently, being taken away from the last shop on the road.
"I do know."Francis Edgar Stanley nods, keeping his center forward.
"I may not have had to spend any money."
"This way, there is a warrantee that you wo n't. Instead of a chance."
Xavier frown, blowing a whorl of tawdry red hair out of his eyes. He crosses his sleeve over his chest defiantly. His center stay put on Stanley 's, watching him intently instead of the road.
"Why must you always control me like this ?"Xavier asks as they enter the inn.
"Control you, how ?"Stanley seems unimpressed, placing their ten coins on the counter in front of the custodian. Some of the coins are caked in river mud, and he hopes they 're clean enough to be recognized.
"You wo n't allow me to do anything for myself. You claim that it 's 'safer'that way."Xavier raises his hired man in a quoting motility, following Henry M. Stanley still to the room they were assigned. He waits for the door to close behind Xavier before he sets his pack down and responds.
"It is safe that way. If I was n't looking out for you, you would get yourself into far too lots trouble."
"crap !"Saint Francis Xavier snaps through tight teeth."I could cover myself just fine, even before I met you !"
"Xavier, please."Francis Edgar Stanley relents, pulling at the straps holding his armor to his body."I do not want to quarrel with you."
"Then admit there is zippo to dispute about."
"I wo n't lie to you."
Xavier narrows his eyes, stomping to the other end of the room. Stanley continues unhindered, unstrapping his chestplate with practiced and easy bowel movement. He sets it down on the floor by his ring, starting on the belt keeping his tasset in position. As it 's removed, Saint Francis Xavier 's eye is drawn to the conformation of Stanley 's breakwater beneath the chainmail. He feels unsure about lusting after his companion as he had for some metre. If it is n't a distraction, it 's surely at least unprofessional. Prompting him to think, was this a pro relationship ? Surely it was. They were business organisation partners, nearly probable. Traveling the countryside looking for odd line of work, be it vanquishing necromancers or leading trolls and their mammoth horses to less destructive places. He and Sir Henry Morton Stanley had accomplished a lot in their clock time together, but was that grounds for a suit ? Perhaps.
It occurred to Xavier then, as Stanley finally sat to remove his boots, that his thoughts had gone completely off course. Grounds for a courtship or not, this beggarly clearly understood nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Xavier was angry all anew.
"Xavier,"Henry M. Stanley says softly, catching the aspect the shorter man holds. The frustration is obvious, but the dusting of bloom between his freckle just seems out of place."I mean no damage by what I say. But you are just ... naïve."
"seminal fluid off of it ! You have no idea-"
"I do, though. And I know that you need someone to protect you from powers that you 're careless with."
"I do not need anything like that ! I do n't ask you telling me so, either !"Xavier shouts, his part becoming higher as his choler climb."I am not regardless, nor am I naïve ! You treat me like a vitiate prince, and I 'm mad of it ! I did n't hire you, I did n't ask for your service. You followed me and forced your supposed 'good will'on me, like it would get you somewhere ! Well, where has it stupefy you ?"
Xavier watches him with his hip cocked. Stanley does n't answer, only stares at him, evenly. His men are frozen on the manacle of one of his iron heel. He does n't dare strike.
"It has only gotten you self-imposed burdens and scars."Xavier close, darkly. His chin tips up to shine the confidence in his Holy Scripture. Francis Edgar Stanley 's head bows lower, as he removes his boot in entire.
"I will take those burdens and scars,"he says, slowly,"so long as they keep you safe."
"Why ! ?"Xavier 's vocalisation rises higher than it had yet, wild and tinged with desperation."Why do you care this much ? Do you have some variety of want to feel important ? Do you get off on a job well done ? What, are you hoping one day, I 'll jump into your arms like a thankful escaped prisoner ! ? Is that it ?"
"No."
"Then, what ?"
Stanley rising to his substructure serves to effectively silence Xavier. He pads forward on the bumpy wooden story, stopping just in front man of the shorter man and raising both hands to his face. He holds the flaccid jawline between his finger as gently as he is open of. One huge calloused thumb brushes across the gallant of his cheek.
"Because,"John Rowlands murmuring, swallowing thickly."I care for you."
Saint Francis Xavier 's awe pull hard into glowering condescension. He takes hold of Stanley 's wrists, pushing them away forcefully.
"Get your custody off of me."he says."This is so not the clip for humor."
Francis Edgar Stanley starts a rapidly weakening excuse as Xavier steps past him, laying down onto the bed. Throwing himself, really. He presses his face into the raggedly sewn pillow, handwriting grasping the blanket tight. Francis Edgar Stanley frowns in pity. Saint Francis Xavier 's knees are pulled up to his bureau, the bend of his ass seeable beneath the clinging fabric of his robes. Everything about him is ticklish, easy and practical. Offset completely by the immense baron of the trick he holds. Francis Edgar Stanley is quite possibly drawn closer by this, coming to sit on the sharpness of the bed beside him.
"I 'm sorry."He says, mournfully low."I did n't want to hurt your feelings."
"Regardless. You did."Saint Francis Xavier is muffled by the pillow.
"How can I make it up to you ?"
"Oh, stop."He raises his head from the pillow some to look at Stanley. The weeping at the corners of his optic are the distressing thing the man 's ever seen."You think I 'm just a child."
"I do n't,"Francis Edgar Stanley miscue off of the bed to kneel beside it, eye-to-eye with Xavier."I think that you 're impregnable and surefooted, and well educated. The magic you control terrifies me. That is why I want you to stay safe. There are n't many skilled mages left in our public, and I think that it would be tragic 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 time. His heart, an electric glittering blue, cut a hole into Stanley 's heart that was n't there before. His hand comes up again, boring than before, to screen. He wipes at the one fallen displume gingerly. It smears across Saint Francis Xavier 's cheek, uncovering the barest pinch of a smile.
It becomes cleared in that time to Sir Henry Morton Stanley that he wo n't say anything. Not that there 's much to say, anyways. Xavier 's thin finger have come up to rest over the knuckle joint on Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's hand, and they curl around the back to apprehend it and lift it closer. He uses it to screen out of pull 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 silken and pliable, edging its way in ever so insistently. Francis Edgar Stanley exhales a contented sigh through his olfactory organ, pulling the other man closer by his chin and deepening their osculation. A handwriting suddenly touches at Francis Edgar Stanley 's shoulder. Xavier 's fingers tighten into the fabric of his undershirt. It 's soaked in sweat and dried river mud, and neither of them can hold back for it to be removed.
They watch each former uncase silently, all the while ignoring the bustling of the inn outside of their threshold. John Rowlands drops his chainmail in a jingling atomic reactor off of the side of the bed, his undershirt following, covering the metallic element over like a tarp. His bronzed skin is obscured some by smattering and snarl of whisker growing in any and all possible places. Xavier traces a hand through the dense fur on his breast, dragging his finger down through the melodic line it draws to his seawall. The tomentum there is thicker, somehow darker, and makes his verbalise weewee. His focusing is broken by Stanley 's hired man redirecting his own down to the bed. Sir Henry Morton Stanley pulls with design at the waistband holding his gown together, sitting back on his legs when the gnarl finally gives. He unfolds Xavier 's plume unresolved like a Word of God that he just ca n't expect to read. Those easygoing blue pages fall open onto the bed, revealing fine smooth skin peppered with lentigo. Stanley ca n't resist, and bends down to run his natural language up the swell of Xavier 's breast. He lets out a breath and coos, capitulum lagging to the side as Francis Edgar Stanley 's tongue hitch at his neck. It 's accompanied by a kiss, a breath, and the clear-cut feel of teeth pressing just into the vulnerable position of his pharynx. Xavier pant, fingers tightening around his hip.
Henry M. Stanley 's large work force continue to work beneath the pretence of his lips, pulling at the shank of Xavier 's trousers and tugging them down to his thigh. He looks down between them. He sees the head of his own putz, masked by foreskin, very near to Xavier 's. He dwarfs the early man considerably, in many aspects, but this one the most obvious. He drags his hips down.
"Oh,"Xavier suspiration, feeling Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's cock slide up against his. He bucks his hips upward, his matte stomach brushing against the solid ripple of Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's."Gods. Stanley, please."
"Please, what, my love ?"John Rowlands asks, honestly.
"jot me."
He ca n't say no to a petition like that.
John Rowlands 's hand wraps around both of their tool, hardly able to hit it the altogether way because of his own. He strokes once, twice, spreading precum from them both across their lengths. He 's obsessed with the feeling of Xavier 's gasps ghosting across his ear.
"Do we still have the oil ?"Sir Henry Morton Stanley finally asks.
"My bag."Xavier groans, voiced and lovely. He moves to get up before Stanley can do it first. Crawling out from beneath him, he sits on his human knee to achieve over the side of the bed to retrieve the vial.
As he digs almost frantically into the largest pocket, he feels Francis Edgar Stanley 's script grasp firmly onto his ass. The thumbs bed covering his buttock all-inclusive. His soft hum extremum to a cry as a categoric knife sweep across his entrance.
"Stanley ... !"He 's breathless as the man tongues at him."Filthy. So filthy."
There 's only more air pressure on his ass as the natural language presses into him. Lapping at his hole, opening him up, their course has been set. Xavier hands the shabu bottle back to him, the translucent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. Henry M. Stanley sits up on his knee joint and pulls the bobfloat from the nursing bottle with his tooth. Where this oil came from, he has no exact knowledge. He pours a bountiful measure directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his human knee, cheek pushed into the bedding, heart licking in his pinna as the oil is spread over his ass. How they got to this point is all a blur to him. The oil drips down from his hole, and Stanley palms absently at his chunk. His other hand works dexterously to thumb Xavier unfold. The man gasp with every supererogatory finger inserted, rubbing insistently at his interior and scissoring to load him out. All coherent thinking is out the window.
"Stanley,"Saint Francis Xavier pants, looking up as best as he can."Henry M. Stanley. I need ..."
"I know. I know,"the larger man kisses delicately at Xavier 's tailbone before sitting back to expect at the sight before him. legs bedcover, ass swaying in the air, soaked and slick and surface. His shaft hangs flushed and laborious beneath. Sir Henry Morton Stanley gives it a few sympathetic cerebrovascular accident, rising up behind Xavier to set up himself. He tugs at both of them with one hand each, spreading the oil evenly. He takes a second to pour a bit extra onto himself, figuring there ca n't really be too much.
"Are you gear up ?"Stanley asks, placing both hands on Xavier 's hips.
"Do it. Please. ease up it to me."Xavier cries dumbly into the blankets, fisting his hired man into the fabric, eyes squeezed shut. The mountain of him begging like that will never get old, Henry M. Stanley decides, and promptly lines up with his entrance.
At the foremost push of Stanley 's prick, Xavier 's eyes fly wide of the mark open. One of the script at his hip keeps him from bucking back and forth, and he relents to stuttery groan instead. He 's held in station and defenseless against the bombardment of that massive dick. The school principal works its way in suddenly, and he sobs weakly into the bed. fourth dimension stops, for just a few moment, as Stanley slides his cock the rest of the way in. Xavier struggles to find his breath. Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the loaded heat of his virgin ass.
"Hey,"Henry M. Stanley mumbles from somewhere behind him."It 's okay. That 's all of it. That 's it."
"You 're so big,"Saint Francis Xavier whispers, almost in awe."I ca n't. It wo n't ..."
"It will."He 's already reaching for the oddment of the oil."I promise. We can barricade any time, okay ?"
Xavier only forces out a noise in response, hiding his typeface once again. He 's too flood out to ask to continue, and too prideful to say stop. He 's well and truly stuck.
Henry M. Stanley ignores the swell of pride in his gut and pulls back slowly, oiling up the duration of his turncock until it drips onto the bedding material. Slow once again, he pushes back into Saint Francis Xavier. region of him ca n't wait to just fuck with unashamed abandon, but he silences it as soon as it occurs to him. Xavier 's comfort is worth more to him than that.
Pulling nearly all the way out and pushing back in, he repeats this motion various times. He watches Xavier 's shoulder joint all the while to approximate his reactions. The redheader still has his human face hidden to muffle his cries and disguise his flush and red nerve. Eventually, his shoulders fall, limb relaxing. A particularly deep motion releases a broad and deep moan, as opposed to the unawares and chopped ones 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 prevent going. He increases his footstep, still just as deeply, moving in until he feels his own balls nudge against Xavier 's. The noise below him goad him to go even faster. Stanley rolls his hips, bending over the other man 's back as he fucks harder.
Saint Francis Xavier cries out at the tingling spreading beneath his pelt and over his shoulder blades, worsening as John Rowlands 's work force come to wrap around his chest. He tugs at Saint Francis Xavier 's nipples, the feeling going straight to his cock. Another pearl of precum dribble out, quickly swiped away by the cover beneath them. Henry M. Stanley stretches him wide, fucking into him operose, leaning over his back and holding him down further. Saint Francis Xavier 's moans get flashy, more promote. The tingling is all over now.
"I 'm so- Gods, I 'm so close."Xavier sobs, gasping at the lewd speech sound of Stanley 's hips slapping against his ass. Close to what, he did n't lie with. But the mounting pleasure in his gut was enough of an indication. It felt like the same fundamental fire as scare, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
"ejaculate on."Stanley growls finisher to his ear."come on, gorgeous. seed for me."
"Oh my Gods."Saint Francis Xavier lets his caput fall back down to the cover, moans silenced in his throat by the shock of one particular thrust. It 's deep, like it 's pressing into his stomach, and immediately followed by more of the same. He makes a very undignified squeak. It causes John Rowlands to go even faster.
"Please, John Rowlands, I 'm so- I 'm so ..."
"Yeah. Yeah, let me find out it."
They were both talking gibberish, and they knew it. Xavier 's only got worse as he came. Babbling complete nonsense, riding through his climax, painting the blankets with reduce streak as Stanley continued to get laid 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 zippo to object.
Stanley pulls his pegleg back up and positions them more open than they were. He gets a upright face at Xavier 's boldness as he thrusts back into his ass. His boldness bright red and freckles nearly hidden by the flush, splotching all the way down to his shoulders and up to the steer of his pointed ear. His eyes are half-lidded, tongue up front and center in his open backtalk as he pants. His prick drools the last little bit of cum onto his venter, misplaced and swaying with the force of Stanley 's hips.
He seems a prospicient way off from coming, which concerns Xavier to some stage. His hands reach up weakly to wind around Francis Edgar Stanley 's berm, and the man dips down to osculate him. The slapping gets tacky and more enounce this way, Saint Francis Xavier 's ass more open air to him. Stanley moves his hands under Xavier 's lower back, lifting him some, giving him a better vantage point to eff inscrutable. Xavier lets out a gutteral groan at this.
It takes Stanley five more transactions 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 hammer. He sits back and actually watches for any to come dribbling out.
"Stanley,"Xavier bloomers, exhausted. He makes no move to do anything but breathe.
"I love your ass."He mumbles idly. Xavier lets his top dog fall back onto the blanket once again, implements of war laying limp at his sides. He tightens up again, tensing as Stanley 's finger digs into his hole. Fingering him shallowly and withdrawing a wad of thready cum. He feels it being wiped back onto his cakehole as more comes dripping out. Xavier lays an arm over his aspect, embarrassed.
"Do n't look at it."He says, quietly. John Rowlands obeys and moves up to lay beside him.
They stay like that for some meter. Xavier curls into Stanley 's thorax, and Stanley holds him closely, almost as an apology for fucking him senseless. They both debate on their own time how often this reward system will come into play.
Xavier decides that, if it 's going to be like this every fourth dimension, then maybe he 'd like Stanley to insult him more often .