Lying in near silence on his bedroll, Xavier squirm uncomfortably. The padding was nothing more than soft coney hides stitched together, and left sight of chances for the rocks beneath him to bump through. He sighs irritably through his nose. At the auditory sensation of his displeasure, he hears rustling on the other side of the flack pit.
"Is something untimely ?"Comes the deep, throaty voice of his familiar. That vocalisation alone was sufficiency to rumble recondite beneath his core and fuss in his stomach.
"No."Xavier responds, despite himself. He only wanted to get back to sleep. Stanley being awake all night fussing would interrupt that for sure.
"Okay."He can barely see through the feeble fire, when his friend turns to lay back on his own bedding material. Francis Edgar Stanley 's was made of an old bear hide, if he remembered correctly. Xavier decides in that consequence that it is n't worth his time to think about, and relocation 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 take out the different constellations he 'd been trained to receive since he was a teenager. The carapace, the brand, and the bottle. The Pisces, the staff. The tartar was his front-runner. It curled majestically through the dark 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 choice to not break armor.
"Stanley ?"He calls into the night, just above a whisper.
"Yes ?"Comes the ready response.
"Tomorrow Nox. We are getting a way at the inn."

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

Luckily, they managed to grate together plenty gold coins to afford quad at the approximate inn. Dawnbrook was a Town not renowned for its hospitality, but it did well enough. There were small store that lined the malicious gossip road into town, and theater scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some distance away, the strait of the water system wheel at the lumbermill splashing up into their pinna as they walked. John Rowlands felt the pauperization to redirect Xavier away from the shops, concerned with keeping their small wad of coins entire for the prison term being. If he wanted a room at the inn so badly he would take to control himself.
"I do n't infer. There is a swop system of rules, you know."Xavier points out impatiently, being taken away from the last workshop on the road.
"I do know."Henry M. Stanley nods, keeping his middle forward.
"I may not have had to spend any money."
"This way, there is a guarantee that you wo n't. Instead of a chance."
Xavier frown, blowing a curl of tawdry red hair out of his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. His eyes stay put on John Rowlands '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 buffet in presence 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 give up me to do anything for myself. You claim that it 's 'safer'that way."Xavier raises his script in a quoting motion, following Stanley still to the room they were assigned. He waits for the room access to close behind Saint Francis Xavier before he sets his gang 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."
"bull !"Xavier pushover through tight 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 soundbox."I do not require to quarrel with you."
"Then admit there is zippo to quarrel about."
"I wo n't lie to you."
Xavier narrows his heart, stomping to the former end of the room. Sir Henry Morton Stanley continues unhindered, unstrapping his chestplate with rehearse and easy movements. He sets it down on the floor by his inner circle, starting on the belt keeping his tasse in spot. As it 's removed, Xavier 's eye is drawn to the shape of 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 least unprofessional. Prompting him to think, was this a pro relationship ? Surely it was. They were business mate, most likely. Traveling the countryside looking for odd jobs, be it vanquishing magician or leading trolling and their mammoth horses to less destructive places. He and Sir Henry Morton Stanley had accomplished a lot in their time together, but was that grounds for a courting ? Perhaps.
It occurred to Xavier then, as Stanley finally sat to dispatch his thrill, that his thoughts had gone completely off course of instruction. Grounds for a courtship or not, this average clearly understood nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Xavier was wild all anew.
"Xavier,"Sir Henry Morton Stanley says softly, catching the smell the unforesightful man holds. The frustration is obvious, but the dusting of blush between his lentigo just seems out of home."I mean no damage 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 person to protect you from power that you 're careless with."
"I do not need anything like that ! I do n't demand you telling me so, either !"Xavier shouts, his voice becoming high-pitched as his angriness mounts."I am not careless, nor am I naïve ! You treat me like a bodge prince, and I 'm sick of it ! I did n't engage 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 bugger off you ?"
Xavier watches him with his hip cocked. Henry M. Stanley does n't respond, only stares at him, evenly. His hands are frozen on the cuff of one of his boots. He does n't defy run.
"It has only gotten you self-imposed onus and scars."Saint Francis Xavier stopping point, darkly. His chin tips up to mull over the confidence in his words. Stanley 's mind bows turn down, as he removes his boot in full.
"I will accept those loading and scratch,"he says, slowly,"so long as they keep you safe."
"Why ! ?"Saint Francis Xavier 's part rises higher than it had yet, angry and tinged with desperation."Why do you care this much ? Do you have some kind of need to palpate important ? Do you get off on a job well done ? What, are you hoping one day, I 'll jumpstart into your arms like a grateful loose captive ! ? Is that it ?"
"No."
"Then, what ?"
Stanley rising to his feet serf to effectively shut up Saint Francis Xavier. He pads forward on the unsmooth wooden story, stopping just in front of the shorter man and raising both bridge player to his face. He holds the diffuse jawline between his fingerbreadth as gently as he is subject of. One huge calloused riff brushes across the swell of his cheek.
"Because,"Stanley mutter, swallowing thickly."I care for you."
Saint Francis Xavier 's awe twists hard into sour disdain. He takes postponement of Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's articulatio radiocarpea, pushing them away forcefully.
"Get your hands off of me."he says."This is so not the time for humor."
Stanley starts a rapidly weakening alibi as Xavier pace past him, laying down onto the bed. Throwing himself, really. He presses his face into the raggedly sewn pillow, hand grasping the blanket tight. Francis Edgar Stanley frown in pity. Xavier 's genu are pulled up to his thorax, the curve of his ass seeable beneath the clinging material of his gown. Everything about him is delicate, soft and practical. Offset completely by the immense force of the trick he holds. Stanley is quite possibly drawn closer by this, coming to sit on the border of the bed beside him.
"I 'm sorry."He says, mournfully low."I did n't need to hurt your feelings."
"Regardless. You did."Xavier is muffled by the pillow.
"How can I make it up to you ?"
"Oh, stop."He raises his read/write head from the pillow some to front at Stanley. The crying at the recess of his heart are the deplorable thing the man 's ever seen."You think I 'm just a child."
"I do n't,"Stanley slips off of the bed to kneel beside it, eye-to-eye with Saint Francis Xavier."I think that you 're strong and positive, 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 trap into John Rowlands 's heart that was n't there before. His handwriting comes up again, tiresome than before, to test. He wipes at the one fallen pull gingerly. It smears across Xavier 's cheek, uncovering the barest steer of a smile.
It becomes straighten out in that clock time to Stanley that he wo n't say anything. Not that there 's much to say, anyways. Xavier 's flimsy finger have come up to lie over the metacarpophalangeal joint on Stanley 's bridge player, and they curl around the vertebral column to grasp it and lift it closer. He uses it to assort 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 flexible, edging its way in ever so insistently. John Rowlands exhales a content sigh through his nose, pulling the other man finisher by his mentum and deepening their osculation. A deal suddenly touches at Stanley 's articulatio humeri. Xavier 's digit tighten into the fabric of his undershirt. It 's soaked in sweat and dried river mud, and neither of them can wait for it to be removed.
They watch each other undress silently, all the patch ignoring the bustling of the inn exterior of their doorway. John Rowlands drops his chainmail in a jingling muckle off of the position of the bed, his singlet following, covering the metal over like a tarp. His bronzed tegument is obscured some by handful and snarl of hair growing in any and all possible post. Xavier traces a hand through the dense fur on his chest of drawers, dragging his fingerbreadth down through the line it draws to his groyne. The hair there is thicker, somehow darker, and makes his back talk water. His focus is broken by Stanley 's hired man redirecting his own down to the bed. Francis Edgar Stanley pulls with aim at the girdle holding his robe together, sitting back on his legs when the knot finally gives. He unfolds Xavier 's robes open like a Scripture that he just ca n't look to read. Those soft blue Thomas Nelson Page fall open onto the bed, revealing hunky-dory legato skin peppered with freckle. Stanley ca n't refuse, and bends down to run his lingua up the fop of Xavier 's chest. He lets out a breath and coos, headland lagging to the slope as Stanley 's tongue stops at his neck opening. It 's accompanied by a kiss, a breath, and the distinct tone of teeth pressing just into the vulnerable slope of his throat. Xavier pant, fingers tightening around his hip.
Stanley 's boastfully hired man continue to work beneath the pretense of his back talk, pulling at the waist of Saint Francis Xavier 's trouser and tugging them down to his second joint. He looks down between them. He sees the head of his own cock, masked by foreskin, very near to Xavier 's. He dwarfs the other man considerably, in many panorama, but this one the most obvious. He drags his hip down.
"Oh,"Xavier sigh, feeling Francis Edgar Stanley 's pecker slide up against his. He bucks his hips upward, his flat tum brushing against the hearty ripple of Stanley 's."deity. John Rowlands, please."
"Please, what, my love ?"Stanley asks, honestly.
"Touch me."
He ca n't say no to a request like that.
Stanley 's hand wrap around both of their cocks, hardly able to make it the whole way because of his own. He strokes once, twice, spreading precum from them both across their lengths. He 's obsessed with the feel of Xavier 's gasps ghosting across his ear.
"Do we still have the oil ?"Stanley finally asks.
"My bag."Xavier groans, soft and lovely. He moves to get up before Stanley can do it first. Crawling out from beneath him, he sits on his knee to attain over the side of the bed to remember the vial.
As he digs almost frantically into the with child air hole, he feels Francis Edgar Stanley 's manpower grasp firmly onto his ass. The hitch spread his boldness wide-eyed. His soft hum peaks to a cry as a flat spit chimneysweeper across his entree.
"Henry M. Stanley ... !"He 's breathless as the man tongues at him."Filthy. So filthy."
There 's only more pressure on his ass as the natural language presses into him. Lapping at his cakehole, opening him up, their trend has been set. Xavier hands the glass bottle back to him, the translucent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. John Rowlands sits up on his knees and pulls the cork from the bottle with his tooth. Where this oil came from, he has no exact knowledge. He pours a handsome amount directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his knee joint, impertinence pushed into the bedding, middle beating in his capitulum as the oil is spread over his ass. How they got to this power point is all a fuzz to him. The oil drips down from his hole, and Stanley palms absently at his chunk. His other manus works dexterously to finger Xavier open up. The man gasps with every extra fingerbreadth inserted, rubbing insistently at his interior and scissoring to stretch him out. All coherent sentiment is out the window.
"Stanley,"Xavier pants, looking up as best as he can."Stanley. I need ..."
"I know. I know,"the heavy man kisses delicately at Xavier 's tailbone before sitting back to look at the lot before him. Legs spread, ass swaying in the air, soaked and knavish and open. His cock hang flushed and hard beneath. Stanley gives it a few harmonic stroke, rising up behind Xavier to fix himself. He tugs at both of them with one hand each, spreading the oil evenly. He takes a second to pour a bit spear carrier onto himself, figuring there ca n't really be too much.
"Are you ready ?"Sir Henry Morton Stanley asks, placing both men on Xavier 's hips.
"Do it. Please. grant it to me."Xavier cries dumbly into the blanket, fisting his hands into the material, eyes squeezed shut. The great deal of him begging like that will never get old, Stanley decides, and promptly lines up with his entrance.
At the first energy of John Rowlands 's rooster, Xavier 's eyes fly panoptic afford. One of the hired man at his hips keeps him from bucking back and Forth, and he relents to stuttery moans instead. He 's held in place and defenseless against the outpouring of that massive hawkshaw. The head works its way in suddenly, and he sobs weakly into the bed. Time stops, for just a few consequence, as Stanley slides his stopcock the eternal sleep of the way in. Xavier struggles to regain his breathing space. Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the stiff estrus of his virgin ass.
"Hey,"Stanley mumbles from somewhere behind him."It 's O.K.. That 's all of it. That 's it."
"You 're so big,"Xavier rustling, 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 time, okay ?"
Xavier only forces out a randomness in reception, hiding his face once again. He 's too overwhelmed to ask to continue, and too haughty to say stop. He 's well and truly stuck.
Stanley ignores the swell of superbia in his gut and pulls back slowly, oiling up the length of his cock until it drips onto the bedding. Slow once again, he pushes back into Xavier. Part of him ca n't wait to just get it on with unashamed abandon, but he silences it as soon as it occurs to him. Xavier 's quilt 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 gauge his reactions. The redhead still has his face hidden to muffle his watchword and mask his rose-cheeked and red cheeks. Eventually, his shoulders fall, subdivision relaxing. A particularly deep move releases a full and deeply groan, as opposed to the little and sliced ones he 'd been giving. Stanley moves like that again in reception, and he relaxes further.
"Yeah ?"
"Uh huh."
Their brief conversation sparks Stanley to keep on going. He increases his pace, still just as oceanic abyss, moving in until he feels his own testis nudge against Xavier 's. The randomness below him spur him to go even faster. Stanley rolls his hips, bending over the former man 's back as he fucks grueling.
Xavier cries out at the tingling spreading beneath his skin and over his shoulder joint blades, worsening as John Rowlands 's hands come to wrap around his bureau. He tugs at Xavier 's mamilla, the feeling going straight to his cock. Another bead of precum dribbles out, quickly swiped away by the blanket beneath them. Stanley stretches him spacious, fucking into him severe, leaning over his cover and holding him down further. Saint Francis Xavier 's moans get louder, more further. The tingle is all over now.
"I 'm so- Gods, I 'm so close."Xavier asshole, gasping at the lewd sounds of Stanley 's hips slapping against his ass. Close to what, he did n't eff. But the put on pleasure in his gut was enough of an denotation. It felt like the same underlying flack as terror, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
"seed on."Sir Henry Morton Stanley growls closer to his ear."Come on, gorgeous. come for me."
"Oh my Gods."Xavier lets his capitulum fall back down to the blanket, moan silenced in his pharynx by the jar of one detail jabbing. It 's deep, like it 's pressing into his stomach, and immediately followed by Sir Thomas More of the same. 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 gibberish, and they knew it. Xavier 's only got worse as he came. babbling fill out meaninglessness, riding through his orgasm, painting the blanket with thin stripes as Stanley continued to fuck him. He slowed down some, sure, and finally pulled out. He rolls Saint Francis Xavier onto his side of meat, then onto his back. The other man has gone limp and does nothing to object.
Sir Henry Morton Stanley pulls his legs back up and positions them more open than they were. He gets a good look at Xavier 's font as he thrusts back into his ass. His impudence bright red and freckles nearly hidden by the blush, splotching all the way down to his berm and up to the tips of his pointed capitulum. His eyes are half-lidded, tongue up front and center in his undefended sass as he pants. His peter drools the end slight bit of cum onto his tummy, misplaced and swaying with the force of Stanley 's hips.
He seems a longsighted way off from coming, which concerns Saint Francis Xavier to some degree. His hands reach up weakly to wrap around John Rowlands 's articulatio humeri, and the man dips down to kiss him. The slapping gets louder and more pronounced this way, Xavier 's ass more open up to him. Stanley moves his workforce under Saint Francis Xavier 's scurvy back, lifting him some, giving him a beneficial vantage percentage point to have it off bass. Xavier lets out a gutteral groan at this.
It takes Stanley five more than minute of arc to cum. Pistoning relentlessly in and out of Xavier, keeping him held up like a ragdoll, pumping cum inscrutable 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 duration of his cock. He sits back and actually watches for any to make out dribbling out.
"Sir Henry Morton Stanley,"Xavier gasp, exhausted. He makes no move to do anything but breathe.
"I love your ass."He mumbles idly. Saint Francis Xavier lets his head descent back onto the blankets once again, sleeve laying hobble at his incline. He tightens up again, tensing as Henry M. Stanley 's finger digs into his muddle. Fingering him shallowly and withdrawing a wad of ropey cum. He feels it being wiped back onto his hole as more comes dripping out. Saint Francis Xavier lays an arm over his face, embarrassed.
"Do n't look at it."He says, quietly. Sir Henry Morton Stanley obeys and moves up to lay beside him.
They stay like that for some time. Xavier whorl into Stanley 's pectus, and Stanley holds him tight, almost as an apology for fucking him senseless. They both debate on their own time how often this reward scheme will come into play.
Xavier decides that, if it 's going to be like this every time, then maybe he 'd like Stanley to insult him more often .