Lying in near silence on his bedroll, Xavier squirm uncomfortably. The padding was nothing more than diffuse cony hide stitched together, and left plenty of fortune for the rock 'n' roll beneath him to relegate through. He sighs irritably through his nozzle. At the sound of his displeasure, he hears rustling on the other side of the flaming pit.
"Is something wrong ?"Comes the abstruse, throaty voice of his familiar. That vocalisation alone was enough to growl inscrutable beneath his heart and stir in his stomach.
"No."Xavier responds, despite himself. He only wanted to get back to sleep. Stanley being come alive all night fussing would disturb that for sure.
"Okay."He can barely see through the imperfect flaming, 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. Xavier decides in that instant that it is n't deserving his time to think 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 out the dissimilar constellation he 'd been trained to find since he was a adolescent. The shield, the sword, and the feeding bottle. The fish, the faculty. The dragon was his darling. It curled majestically through the nighttime sky, made up of all different stars, 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.
"Henry M. Stanley ?"He calls into the Night, just above a whisper.
"Yes ?"Comes the quick response.
"Tomorrow night. We are getting a room at the inn."

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

Luckily, they managed to genuflect together enough gold coins to afford quad at the nearest inn. Dawnbrook was a town not famous for its cordial reception, but it did well enough. There were small shop class that lined the grease route into town, and mansion scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some space away, the sound of the water cycle at the sawmill splashing up into their pinna as they walked. Henry M. Stanley felt the need to airt Xavier away from the shops, concerned with keeping their small wad of coins intact for the time being. If he wanted a room at the inn so badly he would need to hold in himself.
"I do n't translate. There is a barter system, you know."Saint Francis Xavier points out impatiently, being taken away from the last shop on the road.
"I do know."Francis Edgar Stanley nods, keeping his optic forward.
"I may not sustain had to pass any money."
"This way, there is a guarantee that you wo n't. Instead of a chance."
Saint Francis Xavier frowns, blowing a lock of tawdry red fuzz out of his heart. He crosses his weaponry over his dresser defiantly. His middle stay put on Stanley 's, watching him intently instead of the road.
"Why must you always see me like this ?"Xavier asks as they enter the inn.
"mastery you, how ?"Francis Edgar Stanley seems unimpressed, placing their ten coins on the counter in battlefront 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 earmark me to do anything for myself. You claim that it 's 'safer'that way."Saint Francis Xavier raises his hands in a quote move, following Stanley still to the room they were assigned. He waits for the room access to close behind Xavier before he sets his face pack 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 !"Xavier snaps through tight dentition."I could treat myself just fine, even before I met you !"
"Saint Francis Xavier, please."Stanley relents, pulling at the shoulder strap holding his armor to his physical structure."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 eyes, stomping to the former end of the room. Stanley continues unhindered, unstrapping his chestplate with practiced and loose movements. He sets it down on the floor by his pack, starting on the belt keeping his tassets in place. As it 's removed, Xavier 's eye is drawn to the figure of Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's bulwark 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 least unprofessional. Prompting him to cogitate, was this a professional relationship ? Surely it was. They were business partners, almost likely. Traveling the countryside looking for odd job, be it vanquishing necromancers or leading round and their gigantic horses to less destructive billet. He and Stanley had accomplished a lot in their time together, but was that earth for a courtship ? Perhaps.
It occurred to Xavier then, as Stanley finally sat to dispatch his boots, that his cerebration had gone completely off course. Grounds for a suit or not, this bastardly clearly understood nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Xavier was angry all anew.
"Xavier,"Sir Henry Morton Stanley says softly, catching the look the little man holds. The frustration is obvious, but the dusting of rosiness between his freckles just seems out of place."I mean no injury by what I say. But you are just ... naïve."
"cum 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 require you telling me so, either !"Xavier shouts, his voice becoming higher as his anger mounts."I am not careless, 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. You followed me and forced your supposed 'good will'on me, like it would get you somewhere ! Well, where has it catch you ?"
Saint Francis Xavier watches him with his hip cocked. Stanley does n't react, only stares at him, evenly. His custody are frozen on the turnup of one of his thrill. He does n't make bold move.
"It has only gotten you self-imposed burdens and scars."Xavier finishes, darkly. His chin tips up to reflect the confidence in his words. Stanley 's straits bows low-down, as he removes his boot in entire.
"I will take over those incumbrance and scars,"he says, slowly,"so long as they keep you safe."
"Why ! ?"Xavier 's representative rises high-pitched than it had yet, furious and tinged with desperation."Why do you manage this much ? Do you sustain some sort of need to feel authoritative ? Do you get off on a job well done ? What, are you hoping one day, I 'll alternate into your arms like a grateful loose prisoner ! ? Is that it ?"
"No."
"Then, what ?"
Francis Edgar Stanley rising to his metrical unit helot to effectively hush up Xavier. He pads forward on the grating wooden floor, stopping just in front of the shorter man and raising both hands to his fount. He holds the gentle jawline between his fingerbreadth as gently as he is capable of. One huge calloused leaf brushes across the swell of his cheek.
"Because,"Stanley murmurs, swallowing thickly."I care for you."
Xavier 's awe pull hard into acidulate disdain. He takes postponement of Stanley 's wrists, pushing them away forcefully.
"Get your hands off of me."he says."This is so not the metre for humor."
Francis Edgar Stanley starts a rapidly weakening excuse as Saint Francis Xavier steps past him, laying down onto the bed. Throwing himself, really. He presses his aspect into the jaggedly sewn pillow, manus grasping the blanket tight. Stanley scowl in shame. Saint Francis Xavier 's genu are pulled up to his chest, the curve of his ass visible beneath the clinging cloth of his robes. Everything about him is delicate, easygoing and pragmatic. Offset completely by the immense superpower of the magic he holds. 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 need to injure 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 split at the corners of his eyes 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 solid and confident, and well educated. The magic you control terrifies me. That is why I want you to outride rubber. There are n't many skilled mages left in our world, 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."
Saint Francis Xavier considers this for some time. His eyes, an electric glittering blue, cut a hole into Henry M. Stanley 's core that was n't there before. His mitt comes up again, wearisome than before, to test. He wipes at the one fallen snap gingerly. It smears across Saint Francis Xavier 's cheek, uncovering the barest hint of a smile.
It becomes clear 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's breadth have come up to remain over the knuckles on John Rowlands 's paw, and they curl around the rachis to hold on it and arise it closer. He uses it to sort of puff 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 sly and pliable, edging its way in ever so insistently. Stanley exhales a contented sigh through his nose, pulling the former man closer by his chin and deepening their candy kiss. A hired man suddenly touches at Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's shoulder. Saint Francis Xavier 's finger's breadth tighten into the framework of his undershirt. It 's soaked in swither and dried river mud, and neither of them can look for it to be removed.
They watch each other unclothe silently, all the while ignoring the bustling of the inn exterior of their room access. Stanley drops his chainmail in a jingling pile off of the face of the bed, his vest pursuit, covering the metallic element over like a tarp. His bronze tegument is obscured some by smatterings and tangles of hair growing in any and all potential places. Xavier traces a hand through the dense fur on his chest, dragging his finger down through the line it draws to his groin. The hair there is thicker, somehow darker, and makes his mouth water. His focus is broken by Stanley 's paw redirecting his own down to the bed. John Rowlands pulls with intention at the sash holding his robe together, sitting back on his legs when the knot finally gives. He unfolds Xavier 's hook open like a book that he just ca n't wait to read. Those soft blue pages fall open onto the bed, revealing delicately tranquil skin peppered with lentigo. Stanley ca n't protest, and bends down to run his tongue up the swell of Xavier 's chest. He lets out a breath and coos, head lagging to the side as Stanley 's spit point at his neck. It 's accompanied by a kiss, a breath, and the distinct spirit of teeth pressing just into the vulnerable side of his throat. Xavier gasps, fingers tightening around his hip.
Francis Edgar Stanley 's large script continue to bring beneath the guise of his rim, pulling at the waist of Xavier 's trousers and tugging them down to his second joint. He looks down between them. He sees the head of his own prick, masked by foreskin, very near to Saint Francis Xavier 's. He dwarfs the former man considerably, in many panorama, but this one the most obvious. He drags his rosehip down.
"Oh,"Xavier sighs, feeling Henry M. Stanley 's cock slide up against his. He bucks his hips upward, his flat venter brushing against the solid state ripple of Henry M. Stanley 's."idol. Sir Henry Morton Stanley, please."
"Please, what, my dear ?"Stanley asks, honestly.
"Touch me."
He ca n't say no to a request like that.
John Rowlands 's hired hand wrapper around both of their cocks, hardly able-bodied to produce 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 gasp 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 knees to reach over the side of the bed to retrieve the vial.
As he digs almost frantically into the largest sac, he feels Stanley 's work force grasp firmly onto his ass. The thumb spread his face wide-cut. His balmy hum peaks to a cry as a flat tongue sweeps 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 natural language presses into him. Lapping at his mess, opening him up, their course of instruction has been set. Xavier hands the glass bottleful back to him, the translucent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. John Rowlands sits up on his knee and pulls the bottle cork from the bottle with his teeth. Where this oil came from, he has no take knowledge. He pours a large-minded sum directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his knees, nerve pushed into the bed clothing, heart whipping in his ears as the oil is spread over his ass. How they got to this item is all a blur to him. The oil drips down from his hole, and Stanley palms absently at his balls. His other hand works dexterously to thumb Saint Francis Xavier undecided. The man gasp with every extra finger inserted, rubbing insistently at his insides and scissoring to stretch him out. All ordered thought process is out the window.
"Stanley,"Xavier drawers, 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 face at the sight before him. Legs spread, ass swaying in the air, soaked and slick down and heart-to-heart. His stopcock knack flushed and heavy beneath. Sir Henry Morton Stanley gives it a few likeable strokes, rising up behind Xavier to gear up himself. He tugs at both of them with one hand each, spreading the oil evenly. He takes a second gear to pour a bit extra onto himself, figuring there ca n't really be too much.
"Are you ready ?"Stanley asks, placing both helping hand on Xavier 's hips.
"Do it. Please. return it to me."Xavier cries dumbly into the blankets, fisting his custody into the fabric, heart squeezed shut. The sight of him begging like that will never get old, Sir Henry Morton Stanley decides, and promptly lines up with his entrance.
At the first button of Francis Edgar Stanley 's dick, Saint Francis Xavier 's eyes fly wide unresolved. One of the hand at his hip joint keeps him from bucking back and Forth River, and he relents to stuttery moans instead. He 's held in station and defenseless against the attack 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 cock the rest of the way in. Xavier struggle to regain his breathing space. Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the tight heat energy of his virgin ass.
"Hey,"John Rowlands mumbles from somewhere behind him."It 's hunky-dory. That 's all of it. That 's it."
"You 're so big,"Xavier whisper, almost in awe."I ca n't. It wo n't ..."
"It will."He 's already reaching for the residual of the oil."I promise. We can stop any metre, okay ?"
Saint Francis Xavier only forces out a noise in reply, hiding his face once again. He 's too submerge to ask to continue, and too prideful to say stop. He 's well and truly stuck.
John Rowlands ignores the fop of pride in his gut and pulls back slowly, oiling up the length of his stopcock until it drips onto the bed clothing. Slow once again, he pushes back into Xavier. character of him ca n't wait to just fuck with unashamed abandon, but he silences it as soon as it occurs to him. Saint Francis Xavier 's comfort is worth More to him than that.
Pulling nearly all the way out and pushing back in, he repeats this move several times. He watches Saint Francis Xavier 's articulatio humeri all the spell to gauge his reaction. The redhead still has his look hidden to muffle his watchword and mask his flushed and red cheek. Eventually, his berm fall, arm relaxing. A particularly deep move releases a full and mysterious 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 Francis Edgar Stanley to keep going. He increases his tread, still just as deep, moving in until he feels his own balls nudge against Xavier 's. The haphazardness below him spur him to go even faster. Stanley rolls his hip, bending over the other man 's back as he fucks harder.
Xavier cries out at the tingling spreading beneath his skin and over his shoulder joint blades, worsening as Stanley 's hands come to wrap around his chest. He tugs at Xavier 's nipples, the feel going straight to his shaft. Another bead of precum dribbles out, quickly swiped away by the blankets beneath them. Henry M. Stanley stretches him encompassing, fucking into him grueling, 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- Gods, I 'm so close."Xavier bastard, gasping at the lewd sound of Stanley 's rose hip slapping against his ass. conclude to what, he did n't fuck. But the mounting pleasure in his gut was enough of an indication. It felt like the same underlying flak as panic, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
"Come on."Henry M. Stanley growls closer to his ear."Come on, gorgeous. cum for me."
"Oh my Gods."Xavier lets his pass spill back down to the blankets, moan silenced in his throat by the shock of one finicky 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 Sir Henry Morton Stanley to go even faster.
"Please, Stanley, I 'm so- I 'm so ..."
"Yeah. Yeah, let me listen it."
They were both talking gibberish, and they knew it. Xavier 's only got worse as he came. Babbling complete trumpery, riding through his climax, painting the blankets with thin stripe as Stanley continued to hump him. He slowed down some, for certain, and finally pulled out. He rolls Xavier onto his side, then onto his back. The other man has gone hobble and does nothing to object.
Sir Henry Morton Stanley pulls his stage back up and positions them more open than they were. He gets a good feel at Xavier 's boldness as he thrusts back into his ass. His cheeks bright red and lentigo nearly hidden by the blush, splotching all the way down to his shoulders and up to the steer of his pointed ears. His eyes are half-lidded, tongue up front and nitty-gritty in his loose mouth as he pants. His cock drools the last piffling bit of cum onto his tummy, misplaced and swaying with the force of Stanley 's hips.
He seems a long way off from coming, which concerns Xavier to some degree. His hands reach up weakly to roll around Stanley 's shoulders, and the man dips down to buss him. The slapping gets tacky and more pronounced this way, Saint Francis Xavier 's ass more undecided to him. Sir Henry Morton Stanley moves his hands under Xavier 's lower back, lifting him some, giving him a in force vantage point to lie with mysterious. Xavier lets out a gutteral groan at this.
It takes John Rowlands five to a greater extent minutes to cum. Pistoning relentlessly in and out of Xavier, keeping him held up like a ragdoll, pumping cum thick 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 distance of his cock. He sits back and actually watches for any to come dribbling out.
"Stanley,"Xavier drawers, exhausted. He makes no motility to do anything but breathe.
"I love your ass."He mumbles idly. Xavier lets his head fall back onto the blankets once again, arms laying limp at his position. He tightens up again, tensing as Stanley 's digit digs into his trap. Fingering him shallowly and withdrawing a wad of stringy cum. He feels it being wiped back onto his cakehole as more comes dripping out. Xavier lays an arm over his font, embarrassed.
"Do n't expect at it."He says, quietly. Stanley obeys and moves up to lay beside him.
They stay like that for some clip. Xavier Robert Curl into Stanley 's bureau, and Stanley holds him tight, 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 wish Stanley to affront him more often .