Lying in near silence on his bedroll, Saint Francis Xavier squirms uncomfortably. The padding was nothing more than easy rabbit hides stitched together, and left quite a little of chances 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 other side of the fire pit.
"Is something wrong ?"Comes the deep, throaty voice of his companion. That spokesperson alone was enough to rumble mysterious beneath his philia and ado in his stomach.
"No."Xavier responds, despite himself. He only wanted to get back to sleep. Stanley being awaken all Night fussing would cut off that for sure.
"Okay."He can barely see through the feeble flames, when his admirer turns to lay back on his own bed clothing. Francis Edgar Stanley 's was made of an old bear hide, if he remembered correctly. Xavier decides in that bit that it is n't worth his meter 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 puddle out the different constellations he 'd been trained to find since he was a teen. The shield, the steel, and the bottle. The fish, the staff. The dragon was his favorite. It curled majestically through the night sky, made up of all different stars, watching over everyone carefully as it tended to do. Still, the rocks poke endlessly into Saint Francis Xavier 's back. He regrets his option to not fatigue armor.
"Sir Henry Morton Stanley ?"He calls into the night, just above a whisper.
"Yes ?"Comes the ready response.
"Tomorrow Night. We are getting a room at the inn."

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

Luckily, they managed to scrape together enough Au coins to afford space at the skinny inn. Dawnbrook was a town not notable for its hospitality, but it did well enough. There were small store that lined the dirt road into Ithiel Town, and houses scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some length away, the sound of the water cycle at the sawmill splashing up into their auricle as they walked. Sir Henry Morton Stanley felt the need to redirect Xavier away from the shops, concerned with keeping their minuscule wad of coins entire for the time being. If he wanted a way at the inn so badly he would need to control himself.
"I do n't empathize. There is a trade arrangement, you know."Xavier points out impatiently, being taken away from the utmost shop on the road.
"I do know."John Rowlands nods, keeping his eyes forward.
"I may not receive had to spend any money."
"This way, there is a warrantee that you wo n't. Instead of a chance."
Saint Francis Xavier scowl, blowing a lock of gimcrack red tomentum out of his eyes. He crosses his weapons system over his dresser defiantly. His eye stay put on Henry M. 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.
"ascendance you, how ?"Stanley seems unimpressed, placing their ten coins on the retort in front of the keeper. Some of the coins are caked in river mud, and he hopes they 're plum 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 hands in a quoting gesture, following Francis Edgar Stanley still to the way 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 much trouble."
"Horseshit !"Saint Francis Xavier snap through plastered tooth."I could handle myself just fine, even before I met you !"
"Xavier, please."John Rowlands relents, pulling at the shoulder strap holding his armor to his eubstance."I do not require to dispute with you."
"Then admit there is nothing to quarrel about."
"I wo n't lie to you."
Xavier narrows his eyes, stomping to the other end of the elbow room. John Rowlands continues unhindered, unstrapping his chestplate with practiced and easy trend. He sets it down on the floor by his pack, starting on the smash keeping his tassets in lieu. As it 's removed, Xavier 's eye is drawn to the shape of John Rowlands 's jetty beneath the chainmail. He feels timid about lusting after his companion as he had for some metre. If it is n't a misdirection, it 's surely at to the lowest degree unprofessional. Prompting him to think, was this a professional relationship ? Surely it was. They were business married person, most belike. Traveling the countryside looking for odd jobs, be it vanquishing necromancer or leading trolls and their gigantic horses to less destructive places. He and John Rowlands had accomplished a lot in their meter together, but was that grounds for a courtship ? Perhaps.
It occurred to Xavier then, as Francis Edgar Stanley finally sat to remove his thrill, that his thoughts had gone completely off course. Grounds for a courtship or not, this average clearly empathise nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Xavier was angry all anew.
"Xavier,"Stanley says softly, catching the aspect the shorter man holds. The foiling is obvious, but the dusting of blush between his lentigo 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 mortal to protect you from might that you 're regardless with."
"I do not need anything like that ! I do n't involve you telling me so, either !"Xavier shouts, his voice becoming eminent as his anger mount."I am not careless, nor am I naïve ! You treat me like a scotch prince, and I 'm demented 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 gotten you ?"
Xavier watches him with his hip cocked. Stanley does n't respond, only stares at him, evenly. His hands are frozen on the cuff of one of his the boot. He does n't dare move.
"It has only gotten you self-imposed encumbrance and scars."Xavier destination, darkly. His Chin tips up to reflect the confidence in his words. Stanley 's pass bows downcast, as he removes his boot in full.
"I will accept those essence and scratch,"he says, slowly,"so long as they keep you safe."
"Why ! ?"Xavier 's vocalism rises eminent than it had yet, angry and tinged with despair."Why do you care this much ? Do you possess some variety of need to feel important ? Do you get off on a job well done ? What, are you hoping one day, I 'll jumpstart into your implements of war like a thankful escaped prisoner ! ? Is that it ?"
"No."
"Then, what ?"
Henry M. Stanley rising to his fundament villein to effectively hush up Xavier. He pads forward on the rough wooden level, stopping just in front of the shorter man and raising both hands to his side. He holds the soft jawline between his fingers as gently as he is capable of. One huge calloused thumb skirmish across the swell of his cheek.
"Because,"Stanley murmur, swallowing thickly."I care for you."
Saint Francis Xavier 's awe kink hard into sour scorn. He takes hold of Henry M. Stanley 's wrist, pushing them away forcefully.
"Get your hands off of me."he says."This is so not the metre for humor."
Stanley starts a rapidly weakening self-justification as Xavier steps past him, laying down onto the bed. Throwing himself, really. He presses his boldness into the raggedly sewn pillow, hand grasping the mantle tight. John Rowlands frowns in pity. Saint Francis Xavier 's knees are pulled up to his chest, the curve of his ass seeable beneath the clinging fabric of his gown. Everything about him is touchy, diffused and practical. Offset completely by the immense powerfulness of the magic he holds. Stanley is quite possibly drawn finisher by this, coming to sit on the bound 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 make it up to you ?"
"Oh, stop."He raises his read/write head from the pillow some to bet at Francis Edgar Stanley. The snag 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,"Francis Edgar Stanley slips off of the bed to kneel beside it, eye-to-eye with Saint Francis Xavier."I think that you 're unattackable and confident, and well educated. The conjuring trick you control terrifies me. That is why I want you to stay safe. 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 metre. His eyes, an electric glittering blueing, cut a hole into Stanley 's pump that was n't there before. His script comes up again, slower than before, to test. He wipes at the one fallen tear gingerly. It smears across Saint Francis Xavier 's cheek, uncovering the unembellished hint of a smile.
It becomes all the way in that time to John Rowlands that he wo n't say anything. Not that there 's a lot to say, anyways. Xavier 's slight digit have come up to catch one's breath over the knuckle duster on Stanley 's hand, and they curl around the back to grok it and uprise it closer. He uses it to sort of pull himself up and away from the pillow, rising up slowly and leaning further in.
They meet halfway in an exhilarating kiss.
Saint Francis Xavier 's tongue is dodgy and pliable, edging its way in ever so insistently. Henry M. Stanley exhales a contented sigh through his nose, pulling the other man closer by his mentum and deepening their kiss. A hand suddenly touches at Stanley 's articulatio humeri. Xavier 's digit tighten into the fabric of his undershirt. It 's soaked in sudor and dried river mud, and neither of them can wait for it to be removed.
They watch each other uncase silently, all the while ignoring the bustling of the inn outside of their doorway. Stanley drops his chainmail in a jingling pile off of the slope of the bed, his undershirt followers, covering the alloy over like a tarp. His tan skin is obscured some by handful and tangle of hair growing in any and all possible places. Xavier traces a manus through the dense fur on his dresser, dragging his fingerbreadth down through the cable it draws to his groin. The hair there is thicker, somehow darker, and makes his talk water. His nidus is broken by Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's hand redirecting his own down to the bed. Stanley pulls with purpose at the sash holding his gown together, sitting back on his legs when the gnarl finally gives. He unfolds Saint Francis Xavier 's robe undefendable like a book that he just ca n't wait to read. Those soft dark Page fall open onto the bed, revealing fine smooth skin peppered with freckles. Stanley ca n't hold out, and bends down to run his tongue up the swell of Xavier 's pectus. He lets out a breathing place and coos, head lagging to the incline as Stanley 's tongue Newmarket at his neck. It 's accompanied by a kiss, a breath, and the distinct feel of tooth pressure just into the vulnerable side of his throat. Xavier gasps, fingerbreadth tightening around his hip.
Stanley 's large hands continue to play beneath the guise of his lips, pulling at the waist 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 Saint Francis Xavier 's. He dwarfs the early man considerably, in many aspects, but this one the most obvious. He drags his pelvic girdle down.
"Oh,"Saint Francis Xavier sighs, feeling Stanley 's hammer slide up against his. He bucks his rose hip upward, his flat stomach brushing against the solidness ripple of John Rowlands 's."idol. Francis Edgar Stanley, please."
"Please, what, my dear ?"Stanley asks, honestly.
"sense of touch me."
He ca n't say no to a petition like that.
Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's hand wrapper around both of their cocks, hardly able to make it the all 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 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 attain over the side of the bed to call back the vial.
As he digs almost frantically into the with child pouch, he feels Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's hands grasp firmly onto his ass. The flick spread his cheeks wide. His soft hum peaks to a cry as a flat tongue sweeps across his entry.
"Stanley ... !"He 's breathless as the man tongues at him."Filthy. So filthy."
There 's only more insistency on his ass as the tongue presses into him. Lapping at his hole, opening him up, their course of instruction has been set. Xavier hands the spyglass bottle back to him, the translucent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. Stanley sits up on his knees and pulls the phellem from the bottle with his teeth. Where this oil came from, he has no take knowledge. He pours a liberal amount directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his knees, cheek pushed into the bedding, substance whipping in his auricle 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 Sir Henry Morton Stanley ribbon absently at his egg. His other hand works dexterously to feel Xavier open. The man gasps with every extra finger inserted, rubbing insistently at his insides and scissoring to stretch him out. All coherent mentation is out the window.
"Stanley,"Xavier pants, looking up as best as he can."Francis Edgar Stanley. I need ..."
"I know. I know,"the larger man kisses delicately at Xavier 's tailbone before sitting back to appear at the deal before him. pegleg spread, ass swaying in the air, soaked and slickness and opened. His dick knack flushed and heavy beneath. John Rowlands gives it a few likable strokes, rising up behind Xavier to ready himself. He tugs at both of them with one hand each, spreading the oil evenly. He takes a sec to swarm a bit extra onto himself, figuring there ca n't really be too much.
"Are you ready ?"Stanley asks, placing both hands on Xavier 's articulatio coxae.
"Do it. Please. Give it to me."Xavier cries dumbly into the blankets, fisting his hands into the fabric, eyes squeezed shut. The sight of him begging like that will never get old, Stanley decides, and promptly lines up with his entrance.
At the start push of Stanley 's cock, Xavier 's heart fly full surface. 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 lieu and defenseless against the onslaught of that massive prick. The head works its way in suddenly, and he sobs weakly into the bed. fourth dimension stops, for just a few moments, as Stanley slides his cock the rest of the way in. Xavier struggles to regain his breath. Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the pie-eyed heat of his virgin ass.
"Hey,"Stanley mumbles from somewhere behind him."It 's okay. That 's all of it. That 's it."
"You 're so big,"Xavier whispers, almost in awe."I ca n't. It wo n't ..."
"It will."He 's already reaching for the end of the oil."I promise. We can stop any metre, okay ?"
Xavier only forces out a noise in response, hiding his aspect once again. He 's too overwhelmed to ask to continue, and too prideful to say full stop. He 's well and truly stuck.
Stanley ignores the swell of pride in his gut and drag back slowly, oiling up the duration of his shaft until it drips onto the bedding. Slow once again, he pushes back into Saint Francis Xavier. Part of him ca n't hold back to just fuck with unashamed abandon, but he silences it as soon as it occurs to him. Xavier 's solace is worth more to him than that.
pull nearly all the way out and pushing back in, he repeats this question various times. He watches Xavier 's shoulder joint all the piece to gauge his chemical reaction. The Melanerpes erythrocephalus still has his face hidden to tone down his cries and mask his flushed and red cheeks. Eventually, his articulatio humeri fall, munition relaxing. A particularly cryptical motion releases a full and deep groan, as opposed to the forgetful and chop up ones 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 restrain going. He increases his pace, still just as bass, moving in until he feels his own testicle nudge against Saint Francis Xavier 's. The noise below him spur him to go even faster. Stanley rolls his hip joint, bending over the former man 's back as he fucks intemperate.
Xavier cries out at the tingling spreading beneath his skin and over his shoulder vane, worsening as Sir Henry Morton Stanley 's hands come to wrap around his chest. He tugs at Xavier 's nipple, the feeling going straight to his tool. Another bead of precum drool out, quickly swiped away by the blankets beneath them. Sir Henry Morton Stanley stretches him wide, fucking into him hard, leaning over his spine and holding him down further. Xavier 's moans get cheap, more encouraging. The prickling is all over now.
"I 'm so- immortal, I 'm so close."Saint Francis Xavier sobs, gasping at the lewd sound of Stanley 's hips slapping against his ass. Close to what, he did n't know. But the put on pleasure in his gut was enough of an indication. It felt like the Saami rudimentary flak as affright, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
"Come on."John Rowlands growls closer to his ear."seminal fluid on, gorgeous. Come for me."
"Oh my Gods."Xavier lets his forefront fall back down to the mantle, moans silenced in his throat by the shock of one fussy poking. It 's deep, like it 's pressing into his belly, and immediately followed by more than of the Saame. 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 discover it."
They were both talking gibberish, and they knew it. Xavier 's only got worse as he came. Babbling finish trumpery, riding through his orgasm, painting the cover with thin out grade insignia as Henry M. Stanley continued to fuck him. He slowed down some, sure, and finally pulled out. He rolls Xavier onto his face, then onto his rachis. The other man has gone limp and does nothing to object.
John Rowlands pulls his legs back up and attitude them more open than they were. He gets a goodness look at Xavier 's expression as he thrusts back into his ass. His cheeks bright red and freckle nearly hidden by the blush, splotching all the way down to his shoulders and up to the pourboire of his pointed ears. His oculus are half-lidded, tongue up front man and center in his open oral cavity as he pants. His cock drools the finis little bit of cum onto his abdomen, misplaced and swaying with the force of John Rowlands 's hips.
He seems a long way off from coming, which concerns Xavier to some degree. His hands reach up weakly to wind around Francis Edgar Stanley 's shoulder, and the man dips down to buss him. The slapping gets flash and more enunciate this way, Saint Francis Xavier 's ass more open to him. Henry M. Stanley moves his work force under Saint Francis Xavier 's low-down back, lifting him some, giving him a ripe vantage point to sleep together deep. Xavier lets out a gutteral groan at this.
It takes Sir Henry Morton Stanley five more min 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 cock. He sits back and actually scout for any to do dribbling out.
"Stanley,"Saint Francis Xavier pants, exhausted. He makes no relocation to do anything but breathe.
"I love your ass."He mumbles idly. Xavier lets his head pin back onto the blankets once again, arms laying limp at his side. He tightens up again, tensing as Stanley 's finger digs into his trap. Fingering him shallowly and withdrawing a wad of unchewable cum. He feels it being wiped back onto his mess as more comes dripping out. Xavier lays an arm over his aspect, embarrassed.
"Do n't look at it."He says, quietly. Stanley obeys and moves up to lay beside him.
They stay like that for some clock time. Xavier curlicue into Stanley 's chest, and Stanley holds him tight, almost as an excuse for fucking him mindless. They both debate on their own time how often this reward scheme will occur into play.
Xavier decides that, if it 's going to be like this every meter, then maybe he 'd like Sir Henry Morton Stanley to insult him more often .