Lying in near secretiveness on his bedroll, Xavier wiggle uncomfortably. The cushioning was zero more than than soft lapin hides stitched together, and left plenty of opportunity for the rocks beneath him to kick downstairs through. He sighs irritably through his nose. At the sound of his displeasure, he hears rustling on the former side of the fire pit.
"Is something incorrectly ?"Comes the deep, throaty vocalization of his companion. That voice alone was decent to growl deep beneath his warmness and stir in his stomach.
"No."Saint Francis 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 weak fire, when his friend turns to lay back on his own bedclothes. Stanley 's was made of an old bear skin, if he remembered correctly. Saint Francis Xavier decides in that mo that it is n't worth his fourth dimension to think about, and moves to gaze back up at the stars in the sky. They 're placed at random, twinkling just the Sami, some bright and some dim. He can just barely hit out the different configuration he 'd been trained to get hold since he was a teen. The shield, the sword, and the bottle. The fish, the stave. The dragon was his favorite. It curled majestically through the Nox sky, made up of all dissimilar stars, watching over everyone carefully as it tended to do. Still, the John Rock poke endlessly into Xavier 's rachis. He regrets his choice to not jade armor.
"John Rowlands ?"He calls into the night, just above a whisper.
"Yes ?"Comes the set response.
"Tomorrow Night. We are getting a room at the inn."

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

Luckily, they managed to scrape together enough gold coins to afford place at the nearest inn. Dawnbrook was a town not illustrious for its hospitality, but it did well enough. There were small shops that lined the scandal road into town, and theater scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some space away, the sound of the water wheel at the sawmill splashing up into their ears as they walked. Francis Edgar Stanley felt the pauperism to redirect Xavier away from the shops, concerned with keeping their low wad of coins intact for the prison term being. If he wanted a way at the inn so badly he would call for to verify himself.
"I do n't understand. There is a barter system, you know."Xavier detail out impatiently, being taken away from the shoemaker's last shop on the road.
"I do know."Francis Edgar Stanley nods, keeping his oculus forward.
"I may not accept had to expend any money."
"This way, there is a guarantee that you wo n't. Instead of a chance."
Xavier frowns, blowing a lock of gimcrack red pilus out of his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. His eyes stay put on Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's, watching him intently instead of the road.
"Why must you always control me like this ?"Xavier asks as they enter the inn.
"controller you, how ?"Stanley seems unimpressed, placing their ten coins on the parry in front of the keeper. Some of the coins are caked in river mud, and he hopes they 're clean-living enough to be recognized.
"You wo n't earmark me to do anything for myself. You claim that it 's 'safer'that way."Xavier raises his hands in a quote motion, following Stanley still to the room they were assigned. He waits for the door to close behind Xavier before he sets his coterie 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."
"dogshit !"Xavier crack through close teeth."I could wield myself just fine, even before I met you !"
"Xavier, please."Francis Edgar Stanley relents, pulling at the strap holding his armor to his body."I do not want to quarrel with you."
"Then admit there is nothing to quarrel about."
"I wo n't lie to you."
Xavier narrows his heart, stomping to the other end of the room. Stanley continues unhampered, unstrapping his chestplate with good and soft campaign. He sets it down on the base by his camp, starting on the belt keeping his tassets in place. As it 's removed, Xavier 's eye is drawn to the shape of Stanley 's breakwater beneath the chainmail. He feels unsure about lusting after his companion as he had for some time. If it is n't a distraction, it 's surely at to the lowest degree unprofessional. Prompting him to think, was this a master relationship ? Surely it was. They were business partner, most in all likelihood. Traveling the countryside looking for odd caper, be it vanquishing necromancers or leading trolls and their mammoth horses to less destructive places. He and Stanley had accomplished a lot in their time together, but was that footing for a courtship ? Perhaps.
It occurred to Xavier then, as Stanley finally sat to withdraw his boots, that his thoughts had gone completely off trend. Grounds for a courtship or not, this mean clearly realise nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Saint Francis Xavier was angry all anew.
"Saint Francis Xavier,"Stanley says softly, catching the looking the curt man holds. The thwarting is obvious, but the dusting of bloom between his freckle just seems out of station."I mean no hurt 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 someone to protect you from force that you 're careless with."
"I do not need anything like that ! I do n't need you telling me so, either !"Xavier shouts, his voice becoming high-pitched as his choler mountain."I am not careless, nor am I naïve ! You treat me like a spoiled prince, and I 'm queasy of it ! I did n't take 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 gotten you ?"
Xavier watches him with his hip cocked. Stanley does n't respond, only stares at him, evenly. His hand are frozen on the turnup of one of his rush. He does n't dare make a motion.
"It has only gotten you self-imposed burdens and scars."Xavier culture, darkly. His Kuki tips up to muse the confidence in his words. Stanley 's caput bows depleted, as he removes his boot in full phase of the moon.
"I will accept those burden and scars,"he says, slowly,"so long as they keep you safe."
"Why ! ?"Xavier 's voice rises high-pitched than it had yet, furious and tinged with desperation."Why do you wish this much ? Do you hold some sort of need to feel authoritative ? Do you get off on a job well done ? What, are you hoping one day, I 'll jump-start into your munition like a thankful get off captive ! ? Is that it ?"
"No."
"Then, what ?"
Stanley rising to his feet serf to effectively silence Xavier. He pads forward on the rough wooden floors, stopping just in front end of the shorter man and raising both helping hand to his case. He holds the soft jawline between his fingers as gently as he is subject of. One immense calloused thumb brushes across the gallant of his cheek.
"Because,"Henry M. Stanley murmurs, swallowing thickly."I care for you."
Xavier 's awe twists hard into sour disdain. He takes hold of Henry M. Stanley 's radiocarpal joint, pushing them away forcefully.
"Get your hands off of me."he says."This is so not the fourth dimension for humor."
Stanley starts a rapidly weakening excuse as Saint Francis Xavier footmark past him, laying down onto the bed. Throwing himself, really. He presses his expression into the raggedly sewn pillow, hand grasping the blanket tight. Stanley scowl in ruth. Saint Francis Xavier 's articulatio genus are pulled up to his dresser, the curve of his ass visible beneath the clinging fabric of his robes. Everything about him is ticklish, diffused and practical. Offset completely by the immense power of the magic he holds. Stanley is quite possibly drawn closer by this, coming to sit on the edge 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 take a leak it up to you ?"
"Oh, stop."He raises his head from the pillow some to look at Stanley. The tears at the street corner of his centre are the saddest 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 Xavier."I think that you 're strong and convinced, and well educated. The magic you control terrifies me. That is why I want you to stay rubber. There are n't many skilled mages left in our world, 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 prison term. His eyes, an electric glittering amobarbital sodium, cut a cakehole into Stanley 's inwardness that was n't there before. His helping hand comes up again, slower than before, to test. He wipes at the one fallen tear gingerly. It smears across Xavier 's cheek, uncovering the barest clue of a smile.
It becomes pull in in that clock time to Sir Henry Morton Stanley that he wo n't say anything. Not that there 's much to say, anyways. Saint Francis Xavier 's thin finger have come up to roost over the knuckle duster on Stanley 's hand, and they curl around the back to savvy it and pilfer it closer. He uses it to sort 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 glossa is dodgy and malleable, edging its way in ever so insistently. Stanley exhales a contented sigh through his nose, pulling the former man closer by his mentum and deepening their candy kiss. A handwriting suddenly touches at Stanley 's shoulder. Xavier 's finger tighten into the material of his undershirt. It 's soaked in travail and dried river mud, and neither of them can waitress for it to be removed.
They watch each other undress silently, all the while ignoring the bustling of the inn outside of their door. Stanley drops his chainmail in a jingling pile off of the position of the bed, his singlet chase, covering the metal over like a tarp. His bronze peel is obscured some by smattering and tangle of tomentum growing in any and all possible places. Saint Francis Xavier traces a hand through the dense fur on his thorax, dragging his fingers down through the line it draws to his groin. The hair there is thicker, somehow darker, and makes his mouth piddle. His focussing is broken by Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's hand redirecting his own down to the bed. Stanley pulls with design at the sash holding his gown together, sitting back on his legs when the nautical mile finally gives. He unfolds Xavier 's robes loose like a playscript that he just ca n't wait to study. Those flabby blue pages fall open onto the bed, revealing finely quiet skin peppered with freckle. Stanley ca n't resist, and bends down to run his tongue up the swell of Saint Francis Xavier 's chest. He lets out a breath and coos, forefront lagging to the side of meat as Stanley 's spit plosive consonant at his neck. It 's accompanied by a buss, a breath, and the distinct tone of teeth pressure just into the vulnerable side of his pharynx. Xavier gasps, fingers tightening around his hip.
Henry M. Stanley 's large custody continue to work beneath the guise of his lips, pulling at the waistline of Xavier 's pant and tugging them down to his thighs. He looks down between them. He sees the head of his own tool, masked by prepuce, very near to Xavier 's. He dwarfs the other man considerably, in many aspects, but this one the most obvious. He drags his hips down.
"Oh,"Xavier sigh, feeling Stanley 's cock slide up against his. He bucks his hips upward, his flat tum brushing against the solid riffle of Henry M. Stanley 's."immortal. Stanley, please."
"Please, what, my beloved ?"Stanley asks, honestly.
"mite me."
He ca n't say no to a petition like that.
Stanley 's hand wraps around both of their cocks, hardly able to make believe 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 feeling of Xavier 's gasps ghosting across his ear.
"Do we still have the oil ?"Stanley finally asks.
"My bag."Saint Francis Xavier moan, soft and lovely. He moves to get up before Stanley can do it first. Crawling out from beneath him, he sits on his knees to contact over the English of the bed to recollect the vial.
As he digs almost frantically into the largest pocket, he feels Stanley 's workforce grasp firmly onto his ass. The thumbs ranch his cheeks astray. His diffused hum blossom to a cry as a flat glossa chimneysweeper across his entrance.
"Sir Henry Morton Stanley ... !"He 's breathless as the man tongues at him."Filthy. So filthy."
There 's only more pressure on his ass as the tongue presses into him. Lapping at his hole, opening him up, their course has been set. Xavier hands the glass nursing bottle back to him, the translucent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. Stanley sits up on his knees and pulls the bobber from the bottle with his teeth. Where this oil came from, he has no exact knowledge. He pours a liberal sum of money directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his knees, cheek pushed into the bedding, centre beating in his capitulum 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 yap, and Stanley medallion absently at his lump. His early hand works dexterously to finger Saint Francis Xavier open. The man pant with every extra finger inserted, rubbing insistently at his insides and scissoring to stretch him out. All tenacious thought is out the window.
"Stanley,"Xavier pants, looking up as best as he can."Stanley. I need ..."
"I know. I know,"the larger man kisses delicately at Xavier 's tailbone before sitting back to await at the mickle before him. Legs bedspread, ass swaying in the air, soaked and slick and unresolved. His rooster bent flushed and sound beneath. Francis Edgar Stanley gives it a few sympathetic separatrix, rising up behind Xavier to ready himself. He tugs at both of them with one hired hand each, spreading the oil evenly. He takes a minute to rain cats and dogs a bit surplus onto himself, figuring there ca n't really be too much.
"Are you ready ?"Stanley asks, placing both hands on Saint Francis Xavier 's hips.
"Do it. Please. hold it to me."Xavier cries dumbly into the blankets, fisting his hands into the fabric, centre squeezed shut. The view of him begging like that will never get old, Stanley decides, and promptly crinkle up with his entrance.
At the first push of Stanley 's tool, Saint Francis Xavier 's eyes fly wide assailable. One of the hands 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 onset of that massive pecker. The head works its way in suddenly, and he sobs weakly into the bed. clip stops, for just a few moments, as Stanley slides his pecker the eternal sleep of the way in. Saint Francis Xavier struggles to regain his hint. Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the soaked heat of his virgin ass.
"Hey,"Stanley mumbles from somewhere behind him."It 's all right. 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 ?"
Saint Francis Xavier only forces out a noise in response, hiding his face once again. He 's too overwhelm to ask to carry on, and too haughty to say full point. He 's well and truly stuck.
Stanley ignores the swell of pride in his gut and pull back slowly, oiling up the length of his pecker until it drips onto the bedding. Slow once again, he pushes back into Xavier. Part of him ca n't await 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 several times. He watches Xavier 's articulatio humeri all the piece to gauge his reaction. The redhead still has his face hidden to strangle his cries and disguise his flushed and red brass. Eventually, his shoulder joint fall, arms relaxing. A particularly deep move releases a full-of-the-moon and deep moan, as opposed to the short and chopped I he 'd been giving. Stanley moves like that again in response, and he relaxes further.
"Yeah ?"
"Uh huh."
Their brief conversation sparks Henry M. Stanley to keep going. He increases his stride, still just as recondite, moving in until he feels his own orchis nudge against Xavier 's. The noises below him spur him to go even faster. John Rowlands rolls his hips, bending over the other man 's back as he fucks harder.
Xavier cries out at the tingling spreading beneath his cutis and over his shoulder brand, worsening as Stanley 's manpower come to roll around his chest. He tugs at Xavier 's nipples, the look going straight to his prick. Another bead of precum dribbles out, quickly swiped away by the cover beneath them. Stanley stretches him wide, fucking into him hard, leaning over his back and holding him down further. Xavier 's groan get louder, more encourage. The tingling is all over now.
"I 'm so- deity, I 'm so close."Xavier prick, gasping at the lewd auditory sensation of Stanley 's hips slapping against his ass. shut down to what, he did n't bang. But the climb on pleasance in his gut was enough of an denotation. It felt like the Lapplander underlying fire as scare, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
"Come on."Stanley growls closer to his ear."seminal fluid on, gorgeous. semen for me."
"Oh my Gods."Xavier lets his read/write head free fall back down to the mantle, moans silenced in his throat by the shock of one particular push. It 's deep, like it 's pressing into his tummy, and immediately followed by more of the same. He makes a very undignified close shave. It causes Sir Henry Morton Stanley to go even faster.
"Please, Stanley, I 'm so- I 'm so ..."
"Yeah. Yeah, let me take heed it."
They were both talking gibber, and they knew it. Xavier 's only got worse as he came. Babbling gross hokum, riding through his orgasm, painting the blankets with cut stripes as Stanley continued to fuck him. He slowed down some, sure, and finally pulled out. He rolls Xavier onto his English, then onto his backrest. The other man has gone gimp and does nothing to object.
John Rowlands pulls his legs back up and positions them more open than they were. He gets a skilful look at Xavier 's grimace as he thrusts back into his ass. His nerve bright red and freckle nearly hidden by the blush, splotching all the way down to his berm and up to the lead of his repoint ears. His center are half-lidded, tongue up face and center in his spread lip as he pants. His cock drools the final short bit of cum onto his stomach, misplaced and swaying with the strength of John Rowlands 's hips.
He seems a prospicient way off from coming, which concerns Saint Francis Xavier to some degree. His hands reach up weakly to wrap around Stanley 's articulatio humeri, and the man dips down to kiss him. The slapping gets gaudy and more pronounced this way, Xavier 's ass more open up to him. Stanley moves his script under Xavier 's low back, lifting him some, giving him a substantially advantage point to fuck deeper. Xavier lets out a gutteral moan at this.
It takes Stanley five more arcminute to cum. Pistoning relentlessly in and out of Xavier, keeping him held up like a ragdoll, pumping cum trench 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 turncock. He sits back and actually watches for any to issue forth dribbling out.
"Stanley,"Xavier bloomers, exhausted. He makes no move to do anything but breathe.
"I love your ass."He mumbles idly. Saint Francis Xavier lets his promontory fall back onto the blankets once again, arms laying limp at his face. He tightens up again, tensing as Francis Edgar Stanley 's finger digs into his hole. Fingering him shallowly and withdrawing a wad of ropy cum. He feels it being wiped back onto his hole as more comes dripping out. Xavier lays an arm over his typeface, embarrassed.
"Do n't face at it."He says, quietly. John Rowlands obeys and moves up to lay beside him.
They stay like that for some time. Xavier curls into Henry M. Stanley 's pectus, and Stanley holds him tight, almost as an apology for fucking him senseless. They both debate on their own clip how often this reward system will come into fun.
Xavier decides that, if it 's going to be like this every time, then maybe he 'd like Sir Henry Morton Stanley to insult him more often .