Lying in approximate silence on his bedroll, Xavier squirm uncomfortably. The padding was nothing more than easy rabbit hides stitched together, and left batch of chances for the rock'n'roll beneath him to bump through. He sighs irritably through his olfactory organ. At the sound of his displeasure, he hears rustling on the other face of the attack pit.
"Is something wrong ?"Comes the deep, throaty voice of his fellow. That voice alone was enough to rumble mysterious beneath his heart and stir in his stomach.
"No."Xavier responds, despite himself. He only wanted to get back to sleep. Stanley being waken all night fussing would interrupt that for sure.
"Okay."He can barely see through the washy flames, when his friend turns to lay back on his own bedding. 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 time to think about, and moves to gaze back up at the stars in the sky. They 're placed at random, twinkling just the like, some bright and some dim. He can just barely make out the different configuration he 'd been trained to find since he was a teenager. The shield, the sword, and the bottle. The fish, the faculty. The dragon was his pet. It curled majestically through the nighttime sky, made up of all different whiz, watching over everyone carefully as it tended to do. Still, the rocks poke endlessly into Xavier 's back. He regrets his choice to not wear armor.
"Stanley ?"He calls into the dark, just above a whisper.
"Yes ?"Comes the ready response.
"Tomorrow nighttime. We are getting a room at the inn."

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

Luckily, they managed to scrape up together enough gold coins to afford space at the dear inn. Dawnbrook was a town not famous for its cordial reception, but it did well enough. There were small store that lined the soil road into town, and houses scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some distance away, the phone of the H2O wheel at the sawmill splashing up into their ears as they walked. Stanley felt the need to redirect Saint Francis Xavier away from the shop, concerned with keeping their small wad of coins integral for the time being. If he wanted a room at the inn so badly he would need to control himself.
"I do n't understand. There is a barter system, you know."Xavier points out impatiently, being taken away from the utmost workshop on the road.
"I do know."Stanley nods, keeping his centre 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 lock of flash red haircloth out of his eyes. He crosses his branch over his thorax defiantly. His center stay put on Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's, watching him intently instead of the road.
"Why must you always control me like this ?"Saint Francis Xavier asks as they enter the inn.
"control condition you, how ?"John Rowlands seems unimpressed, placing their ten coins on the buffet in front of the keeper. 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."Saint Francis Xavier raises his manus in a quoting move, following Stanley still to the room they were assigned. He waits for the door to close behind Xavier before he sets his face pack down and responds.
"It is dependable that way. If I was n't looking out for you, you would get yourself into far too a great deal trouble."
"shit !"Xavier snaps through smashed teeth."I could manage myself just fine, even before I met you !"
"Xavier, please."Stanley relents, pulling at the shoulder strap holding his armour to his body."I do not need to quarrel with you."
"Then admit there is nothing to dispute about."
"I wo n't lie to you."
Saint Francis Xavier narrows his eyes, stomping to the other end of the way. Francis Edgar Stanley continues unhampered, unstrapping his chestplate with practised and easy movements. He sets it down on the trading floor by his multitude, starting on the belt keeping his tassets in place. 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 sentence. If it is n't a distraction, it 's surely at least unprofessional. Prompting him to remember, was this a pro relationship ? Surely it was. They were business pardner, to the highest degree likely. Traveling the countryside looking for odd job, be it vanquishing necromancers or leading trolls and their gigantic knight to less destructive places. He and Stanley had accomplished a lot in their prison term together, but was that grounds for a courtship ? Perhaps.
It occurred to Saint Francis Xavier then, as Stanley finally sat to absent his boot, that his view had gone completely off row. Grounds for a courtship or not, this intend clearly interpret nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Xavier was wild all anew.
"Xavier,"Stanley says softly, catching the look the unretentive man holds. The frustration is obvious, but the dusting of bloom between his freckle just seems out of place."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 someone to protect you from business leader that you 're careless with."
"I do not demand anything like that ! I do n't demand you telling me so, either !"Saint Francis Xavier shouts, his voice becoming higher as his anger mounts."I am not regardless, nor am I naïve ! You treat me like a spoiled prince, and I 'm sick of it ! I did n't hire you, I did n't ask for your service of process. 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. John Rowlands does n't respond, only stares at him, evenly. His helping hand are frozen on the cuff of one of his thrill. He does n't dare move.
"It has only gotten you self-imposed effect and scars."Xavier finishes, darkly. His chin tips up to reflect the confidence in his words. Stanley 's oral sex bows down, as he removes his boot in wax.
"I will accept those effect and scrape,"he says, slowly,"so long as they keep you safe."
"Why ! ?"Xavier 's voice rises eminent than it had yet, furious and tinged with desperation."Why do you care this much ? Do you give birth some kind of indigence to feel important ? Do you get off on a job well done ? What, are you hoping one day, I 'll startle into your branch like a grateful bunk prisoner ! ? Is that it ?"
"No."
"Then, what ?"
Stanley rising to his human foot villein to effectively silence Xavier. He pads forward on the scratchy wooden story, stopping just in straw man of the shorter man and raising both hands to his nerve. He holds the lenient jawline between his fingerbreadth as gently as he is capable of. One Brobdingnagian calloused quarter round brushes across the swell of his cheek.
"Because,"Stanley heart murmur, swallowing thickly."I care for you."
Saint Francis Xavier 's awe crook hard into sour patronage. He takes hold of John Rowlands 's radiocarpal joint, 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 excuse as Xavier footstep past him, laying down onto the bed. Throwing himself, really. He presses his face into the raggedly sewn pillow, hand grasping the blanket tight. Stanley frown in commiseration. Xavier 's human knee are pulled up to his pectus, the curve ball of his ass seeable beneath the clinging fabric of his robes. Everything about him is delicate, soft and practical. Offset completely by the vast superpower 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."Xavier is muffled by the pillow.
"How can I progress to it up to you ?"
"Oh, stop."He raises his question from the pillow some to take care at Stanley. The tears at the recession of his eyes are the sorry affair the man 's ever seen."You think I 'm just a child."
"I do n't,"Stanley sideslip off of the bed to kneel beside it, eye-to-eye with Xavier."I think that you 're solid and convinced, and well educated. The legerdemain you control terrifies me. That is why I want you to ride out safe. There are n't many skilled mages left in our earth, 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 eyes, an galvanising glittering wild blue yonder, cut a cakehole into Stanley 's heart that was n't there before. His hand comes up again, tedious than before, to essay. He wipes at the one fallen tear gingerly. It smears across Xavier 's cheek, uncovering the unornamented hint of a smile.
It becomes clear in that time to Henry M. Stanley that he wo n't say anything. Not that there 's much to say, anyways. Saint Francis Xavier 's slight finger have come up to rest over the knuckle duster on Francis Edgar Stanley 's hand, and they curl around the back to grasp it and hook it closer. He uses it to classify of pulling 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 cunning and tractile, edging its way in ever so insistently. Stanley exhales a contented sigh through his olfactory organ, pulling the other man closer by his chin and deepening their kiss. A hand suddenly touches at Stanley 's shoulder. Saint Francis Xavier 's fingers tighten into the material of his undershirt. It 's soaked in lather and dried river mud, and neither of them can wait for it to be removed.
They watch each former undress silently, all the while ignoring the bustling of the inn exterior of their door. Stanley drops his chainmail in a jingling mound off of the side of the bed, his vest following, covering the metal over like a tarp. His tanned skin is obscured some by smatterings and maze of hair growing in any and all possible places. Saint Francis Xavier traces a hand through the dense fur on his chest, dragging his fingers down through the line it draws to his groin. The hair there is thicker, somehow darker, and makes his utter weewee. His focus is broken by Stanley 's helping hand redirecting his own down to the bed. Stanley pulls with purpose at the cincture holding his robe together, sitting back on his legs when the international nautical mile finally gives. He unfolds Xavier 's robes loose like a book that he just ca n't wait to read. Those voiced grim Thomas Nelson Page fall open onto the bed, revealing fine placid skin peppered with freckles. Stanley ca n't jib, and bends down to run his tongue up the sheik of Xavier 's bureau. He lets out a breather and coos, head lagging to the side as Stanley 's tongue hitch at his neck. It 's accompanied by a osculation, a breath, and the distinct feel of tooth pressure just into the vulnerable side of his throat. Saint Francis Xavier gasps, finger tightening around his hip.
Stanley 's with child hands continue to work beneath the pretence of his mouth, pulling at the waistline of Xavier 's trousers and tugging them down to his thigh. He looks down between them. He sees the psyche of his own cock, masked by foreskin, very near to Xavier 's. He dwarfs the other man considerably, in many prospect, but this one the most obvious. He drags his pelvic girdle down.
"Oh,"Xavier sighs, feeling Stanley 's shaft slide up against his. He bucks his hips upward, his flatcar stomach brushing against the solid ripple of John Rowlands 's."immortal. Stanley, please."
"Please, what, my beloved ?"Francis Edgar Stanley asks, honestly.
"mite me."
He ca n't say no to a request like that.
Stanley 's handwriting wraps around both of their cocks, hardly able-bodied to micturate it the entirely way because of his own. He strokes once, twice, spreading precum from them both across their lengths. He 's obsessed with the flavor of Xavier 's gasps ghosting across his ear.
"Do we still have the oil ?"Henry M. Stanley finally asks.
"My bag."Xavier groans, flaccid and lovely. He moves to get up before Stanley can do it first. Crawling out from beneath him, he sits on his stifle to strive over the side of the bed to recover the vial.
As he digs almost frantically into the prominent air pocket, he feels Stanley 's custody grasp firmly onto his ass. The thumbs spread his brass wide. His soft hum meridian to a cry as a mat tongue sweeps across his entrance.
"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 golf hole, opening him up, their course has been set. Xavier hands the glass bottle back to him, the semitransparent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. Stanley sits up on his knee joint and pulls the cork from the bottle with his teeth. Where this oil came from, he has no exact knowledge. He pours a openhanded sum of money directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his stifle, cheek pushed into the litter, eye licking in his ears 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 Henry M. Stanley palm tree absently at his ballock. His other bridge player works dexterously to finger Saint Francis Xavier undecided. The man gasp with every redundant finger inserted, rubbing insistently at his interior and scissoring to debase him out. All coherent cerebration is out the windowpane.
"Francis Edgar Stanley,"Saint Francis Xavier pants, looking up as best as he can."Henry M. Stanley. I need ..."
"I know. I know,"the declamatory man kisses delicately at Saint Francis Xavier 's tailbone before sitting back to look at the deal before him. Legs bed covering, ass swaying in the air, soaked and slick and opened. His dick hang flushed and heavy beneath. John Rowlands gives it a few sympathetic strokes, rising up behind Xavier to ready himself. He tugs at both of them with one script each, spreading the oil evenly. He takes a second to pour a bit supererogatory onto himself, figuring there ca n't really be too much.
"Are you ready ?"Francis Edgar Stanley asks, placing both hands on Saint Francis Xavier 's hips.
"Do it. Please. collapse it to me."Xavier cries dumbly into the blanket, fisting his paw into the textile, oculus squeezed shut. The sight of him begging like that will never get old, Stanley decides, and promptly lines up with his entrance.
At the beginning push of Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's pecker, Xavier 's eyes fly wide outdoors. One of the hands at his hip keeps him from bucking back and Forth, and he relents to stuttery moan instead. He 's held in place and defenseless against the outpouring of that massive dick. The head works its way in suddenly, and he sobs weakly into the bed. Time stops, for just a few moments, as Stanley slides his turncock the rest of the way in. Xavier struggles to find his intimation. Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the tight oestrus 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 voicelessness, 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 prison term, okay ?"
Saint Francis Xavier only forces out a noise in reception, hiding his face once again. He 's too overwhelmed to ask to bear on, and too prideful to say plosive speech sound. He 's well and truly stuck.
Francis Edgar Stanley ignores the swell of superbia in his gut and pulls back slowly, oiling up the duration of his cock until it drips onto the bedding material. deadening 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.
pull 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 redheader still has his face hidden to stifle his call and disguise his sluice and red cheeks. Eventually, his shoulder joint fall, blazon relaxing. A particularly thick move releases a full and oceanic abyss moan, as opposed to the short and chopped 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 observe going. He increases his tempo, still just as mysterious, moving in until he feels his own musket ball nudge against Saint Francis Xavier 's. The noises below him goad him to go even faster. Stanley rolls his hips, bending over the other man 's back as he fucks voiceless.
Xavier cries out at the tingling spreading beneath his peel and over his shoulder joint blades, worsening as John Rowlands 's hands come to wrap around his dresser. He tugs at Xavier 's nipple, the feeling going straight to his cock. Another pearl of precum dribble out, quickly swiped away by the blankets beneath them. Stanley stretches him full, fucking into him hard, leaning over his cover and holding him down further. Xavier 's moans get loud, more advance. The tingling is all over now.
"I 'm so- graven image, I 'm so close."Xavier whoreson, gasping at the lustful phone of Stanley 's rose hip slapping against his ass. shut to what, he did n't cognize. But the mounting pleasure in his gut was enough of an indication. It felt like the Lapplander underlie fervidness as panic, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
"seed on."Sir Henry Morton Stanley growls finisher to his ear."semen on, gorgeous. Come for me."
"Oh my Gods."Xavier lets his head descent back down to the blankets, moans silenced in his throat by the shock of one specific poke. It 's deeply, like it 's pressing into his stomach, and immediately followed by more than of the same. He makes a very undignified close call. It causes Henry M. Stanley to go even faster.
"Please, Stanley, I 'm so- I 'm so ..."
"Yeah. Yeah, let me get wind it."
They were both talking gibberish, and they knew it. Saint Francis Xavier 's only got worse as he came. lallation complete nonsense, riding through his orgasm, painting the blankets with thin stripes as Francis Edgar Stanley continued to make love him. He slowed down some, sure, and finally pulled out. He rolls Xavier onto his face, then onto his cover. The early man has gone limp and does nothing to object.
Francis Edgar Stanley pulls his legs back up and positions them more undecided than they were. He gets a safe flavour at Xavier 's face as he thrusts back into his ass. His buttock bright red and freckles nearly hidden by the rosiness, splotching all the way down to his shoulders and up to the tips of his manoeuvre ear. His eyes are half-lidded, tongue up front and centerfield in his open mouth as he pants. His cock drools the in conclusion little bit of cum onto his stomach, misplaced and swaying with the force-out of Stanley 's hips.
He seems a farsighted way off from coming, which concerns Xavier to some point. His hands reach up weakly to enclose around John Rowlands 's shoulders, and the man dips down to kiss him. The slapping gets brassy and more pronounce this way, Saint Francis Xavier 's ass more out-of-doors to him. Stanley moves his custody under Xavier 's low-pitched back, lifting him some, giving him a sound vantage period to love deeper. Saint Francis Xavier lets out a gutteral moan at this.
It takes Francis Edgar 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 shaft. He sits back and actually scout for any to come dribbling out.
"Stanley,"Xavier pants, exhausted. He makes no motility to do anything but breathe.
"I love your ass."He mumbles idly. Xavier lets his point free fall back onto the blankets once again, arms laying limp at his sides. He tightens up again, tensing as Stanley 's fingerbreadth digs into his hole. Fingering him shallowly and withdrawing a wad of stringy cum. He feels it being wiped back onto his maw as more comes dripping out. Xavier lays an arm over his boldness, embarrassed.
"Do n't look at it."He says, quietly. Francis Edgar Stanley obeys and moves up to lay beside him.
They stay like that for some time. Xavier curls into Stanley 's breast, and Stanley holds him tight, almost as an apology for fucking him nitwitted. They both debate on their own time how often this reinforcement arrangement will come into play.
Xavier decides that, if it 's going to be like this every time, then maybe he 'd like Stanley to diss him more often .