Lying in near secrecy on his bedroll, Xavier squirms uncomfortably. The padding was goose egg more than soft rabbit fell stitched together, and left slew of opportunity for the stone beneath him to bump through. He sighs irritably through his olfactory organ. At the sound of his displeasure, he hears rustling on the other side of the attack pit.
"Is something improper ?"Comes the deep, throaty part of his familiar. That part alone was enough to rumble deep beneath his pith and stir in his stomach.
"No."Saint Francis Xavier responds, despite himself. He only wanted to get back to sleep. John Rowlands being arouse all dark fussing would interrupt that for sure.
"Okay."He can barely see through the light flame, when his friend turns to lay back on his own bedding material. Stanley 's was made of an old bear fell, if he remembered correctly. Xavier decides in that moment that it is n't worth his meter to think about, and movement 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 different constellation he 'd been trained to find since he was a teen. The cuticle, the sword, and the bottleful. The Fish, the staff. The dragon was his favorite. It curled majestically through the night sky, made up of all unlike asterisk, watching over everyone carefully as it tended to do. Still, the rock poke endlessly into Xavier 's rachis. He regrets his selection to not wear armor.
"Stanley ?"He calls into the night, just above a whisper.
"Yes ?"Comes the set up response.
"Tomorrow night. We are getting a room at the inn."

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Luckily, they managed to scrape up together sufficiency atomic number 79 coins to afford space at the nearest inn. Dawnbrook was a town not famous for its hospitality, but it did well enough. There were small shops that lined the dirt route into town, and family scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some distance away, the sound of the water system bicycle at the sawmill splashing up into their ears as they walked. Francis Edgar Stanley felt the want to redirect Xavier away from the shop, concerned with keeping their small wad of coins intact for the time being. If he wanted a way at the inn so badly he would need to check himself.
"I do n't understand. There is a barter system, you know."Xavier pointedness out impatiently, being taken away from the last store on the road.
"I do know."Stanley nods, keeping his center forward.
"I may not let had to spend any money."
"This way, there is a guaranty that you wo n't. Instead of a chance."
Xavier frowns, blowing a lock of tawdry red hair out of his eyes. He crosses his weapon over his chest defiantly. His eye stay put on Stanley 's, watching him intently instead of the road.
"Why must you always see to it me like this ?"Xavier asks as they enter the inn.
"Control you, how ?"Francis Edgar Stanley seems unimpressed, placing their ten coins on the counter in front man of the keeper. Some of the coins are caked in river mud, and he hopes they 're cleanse 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 work force in a quote apparent motion, following Stanley still to the room they were assigned. He waits for the door to close behind Xavier before he sets his ring 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 ginger nut through tight teeth."I could do by myself just fine, even before I met you !"
"Xavier, please."John Rowlands relents, pulling at the strap holding his armour to his body."I do not want to quarrel with you."
"Then admit there is nothing to scrap about."
"I wo n't lie to you."
Saint Francis Xavier narrows his eyes, stomping to the other end of the room. Stanley continues unhindered, unstrapping his chestplate with good and easy movements. He sets it down on the floor by his camp, starting on the belt keeping his tasse in office. As it 's removed, Saint Francis Xavier 's eye is drawn to the soma of Stanley 's jetty beneath the chainmail. He feels diffident about lusting after his comrade as he had for some clip. If it is n't a distraction, it 's surely at least unprofessional. Prompting him to believe, was this a professional person family relationship ? Surely it was. They were business spouse, most belike. Traveling the countryside looking for odd Job, be it vanquishing necromancers or leading trolls and their mammoth horse cavalry to less destructive places. He and Stanley had accomplished a lot in their meter together, but was that grounds for a courtship ? Perhaps.
It occurred to Saint Francis Xavier then, as Henry M. Stanley finally sat to off his iron boot, that his thoughts had gone completely off class. Grounds for a courtship or not, this stand for clearly understood nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Xavier was angry all anew.
"Xavier,"Stanley says softly, catching the feel the brusque man holds. The frustration is obvious, but the dusting of blush between his freckle just seems out of spot."I mean no injury by what I say. But you are just ... naïve."
"semen 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 take anything like that ! I do n't need you telling me so, either !"Saint Francis Xavier shouts, his part becoming in high spirits as his wrath mount."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 take you, I did n't ask for your inspection and repair. You followed me and forced your supposed 'good will'on me, like it would get you somewhere ! Well, where has it perplex 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 boots. He does n't dare motivate.
"It has only gotten you self-imposed onus and scars."Xavier polish, darkly. His chin tips up to reflect the confidence in his give-and-take. Stanley 's fountainhead bows scummy, as he removes his kick in full.
"I will accept those burdens and cicatrix,"he says, slowly,"so long as they keep you safe."
"Why ! ?"Saint Francis Xavier 's spokesperson rises higher than it had yet, angry and tinged with desperation."Why do you like this much ? Do you accept some kind 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 arms like a grateful escaped prisoner ! ? Is that it ?"
"No."
"Then, what ?"
Stanley rising to his feet serves to effectively silence Xavier. He pads forward on the unsmooth wooden floors, stopping just in front of the shorter man and raising both men to his typeface. He holds the gentle jawline between his fingers as gently as he is capable of. One huge calloused thumb skirmish across the swell of his cheek.
"Because,"Sir Henry Morton Stanley murmurs, swallowing thickly."I care for you."
Xavier 's awe crook hard into sour disdain. He takes hold of Stanley 's wrist, pushing them away forcefully.
"Get your hands off of me."he says."This is so not the sentence for humor."
Stanley starts a rapidly weakening apology as Xavier measure past him, laying down onto the bed. Throwing himself, really. He presses his face into the raggedly sewn pillow, hand grasping the cover tight. Sir Henry Morton Stanley frowns in pity. Xavier 's stifle are pulled up to his chest, the curve of his ass visible beneath the clinging cloth of his robes. Everything about him is touchy, soft and practical. Offset completely by the immense power of the conjuration he holds. Francis Edgar Stanley is quite possibly drawn finisher 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 injure your feelings."
"Regardless. You did."Saint Francis Xavier is muffled by the pillow.
"How can I make believe it up to you ?"
"Oh, stop."He raises his promontory from the pillow some to look at Stanley. The bust at the street corner of his eyes are the sorry thing the man 's ever seen."You think I 'm just a child."
"I do n't,"Stanley slipperiness off of the bed to kneel beside it, eye-to-eye with Xavier."I think that you 're substantial and surefooted, 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 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 time. His eyes, an electric glittering blue, cut a hole into John Rowlands 's heart that was n't there before. His hand comes up again, irksome than before, to prove. He wipes at the one fallen snap gingerly. It smears across Xavier 's cheek, uncovering the barest hint of a smile.
It becomes clear in that clip to Stanley that he wo n't say anything. Not that there 's much to say, anyways. Xavier 's thin out digit have come up to rest over the knuckle on John Rowlands 's paw, and they curl around the back to grasp it and lift 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 dodgy and flexible, edging its way in ever so insistently. Stanley exhales a contented sigh through his nose, pulling the early man finisher by his Kuki and deepening their kiss. A script suddenly touches at Stanley 's articulatio humeri. Saint Francis Xavier 's fingers 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 divest silently, all the while ignoring the bustling of the inn exterior of their door. John Rowlands drops his chainmail in a jingling pile off of the side of the bed, his undershirt chase, covering the metal over like a tarpaulin. His tanned cutis is obscured some by smatterings and tangles of hair growing in any and all possible position. Saint Francis Xavier traces a hand through the dense fur on his chest, dragging his finger's breadth down through the line of merchandise it draws to his groin. The fuzz there is thicker, somehow darker, and makes his verbalise pee. His focus is broken by Francis Edgar Stanley 's hand redirecting his own down to the bed. Sir Henry Morton Stanley pulls with design at the sash holding his robes together, sitting back on his wooden leg when the knot finally gives. He unfolds Saint Francis Xavier 's robes assailable like a book that he just ca n't hold back to interpret. Those soft depressed pages fall open onto the bed, revealing mulct politic skin peppered with lentigo. Stanley ca n't stand, and bends down to run his knife up the swell of Xavier 's chest of drawers. He lets out a breathing space and coos, head lagging to the side as Stanley 's tongue stops at his neck. It 's accompanied by a candy kiss, a breath, and the discrete feel of teeth pressing just into the vulnerable incline of his pharynx. Xavier pant, fingers tightening around his hip.
John Rowlands 's bombastic hands continue to put to work beneath the guise of his lips, pulling at the waist of Xavier 's trouser and tugging them down to his thigh. He looks down between them. He sees the head of his own dick, masked by foreskin, very near to Xavier 's. He dwarfs the early 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 monotonous venter brushing against the solid ripple of Stanley 's."Gods. Stanley, please."
"Please, what, my dear ?"Stanley asks, honestly.
"Touch me."
He ca n't say no to a request like that.
Stanley 's mitt wraps around both of their rooster, 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 look of Xavier 's gasp ghosting across his ear.
"Do we still have the oil ?"Stanley finally asks.
"My bag."Saint Francis Xavier groans, piano and lovely. He moves to get up before Stanley can do it first. Crawling out from beneath him, he sits on his knees to make over the English of the bed to retrieve the vial.
As he digs almost frantically into the largest pocket, he feels Stanley 's hands grasp firmly onto his ass. The thumbs spread his impertinence wide. His soft hum peaks to a cry as a mat tongue chimneysweep 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 yap, opening him up, their course has been set. Xavier hands the looking glass bottle back to him, the semitransparent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. Henry M. Stanley 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 giving amount directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his stifle, cheek pushed into the bedding, inwardness trouncing in his ears as the oil is spread over his ass. How they got to this point is all a fuzz to him. The oil drips down from his yap, and Francis Edgar Stanley decoration absently at his balls. His other deal works dexterously to finger Xavier open. The man pant with every extra digit inserted, rubbing insistently at his insides and scissoring to stretch him out. All coherent thinking is out the windowpane.
"Stanley,"Saint Francis Xavier pant, looking up as best as he can."Stanley. I need ..."
"I know. I know,"the tumid man kisses delicately at Saint Francis Xavier 's tailbone before sitting back to look at the slew before him. Legs spread, ass swaying in the air, soaked and slick and open. His cock hangs flushed and leaden beneath. Stanley gives it a few good-hearted strokes, 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 arcsecond to swarm a bit extra onto himself, figuring there ca n't really be too much.
"Are you ready ?"Stanley asks, placing both manpower on Saint Francis Xavier 's coxa.
"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 foremost get-up-and-go of Stanley 's putz, Xavier 's optic fly wide open. One of the manus at his hips keeps him from bucking back and forth, and he relents to stuttery moan instead. He 's held in position and defenseless against the onslaught of that massive dick. The drumhead works its way in suddenly, and he sobs weakly into the bed. metre stops, for just a few here and now, as Stanley slides his dick the quietus of the way in. Xavier struggles to retrieve his breath. Henry M. Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the taut 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 remainder of the oil."I promise. We can finish any meter, okay ?"
Xavier only forces out a disturbance in response, hiding his aspect once again. He 's too overwhelmed to ask to continue, and too prideful to say stop. He 's well and truly stuck.
Stanley ignores the crestless wave of pride in his gut and pulling back slowly, oiling up the length of his stopcock until it drips onto the bedding. Slow once again, he pushes back into Saint Francis Xavier. Part of him ca n't expect 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 various times. He watches Xavier 's articulatio humeri all the while to gauge his reactions. The Aythya americana still has his face hidden to damp his cries and mask his flushed and red impudence. Eventually, his berm fall, arms relaxing. A particularly deep motility releases a full and deep moan, as opposed to the abruptly and hack ones he 'd been giving. Henry M. Stanley moves like that again in response, and he relaxes further.
"Yeah ?"
"Uh huh."
Their brief conversation sparks Stanley to keep going. He increases his tempo, still just as deep, moving in until he feels his own balls nudge against Xavier 's. The dissonance below him spur him to go even faster. Sir Henry Morton Stanley rolls his pelvic arch, bending over the early man 's back as he fucks harder.
Xavier cries out at the tingling spreading beneath his skin and over his shoulder blades, worsening as Stanley 's hands come to enwrap around his chest of drawers. He tugs at Saint Francis Xavier 's mammilla, the feeling going straight to his stopcock. Another bead of precum dribbles out, quickly swiped away by the blankets beneath them. Sir Henry Morton Stanley stretches him wide, fucking into him hard, leaning over his binding and holding him down further. Xavier 's moans get loud, more encouraging. The tingle is all over now.
"I 'm so- Gods, I 'm so close."Xavier dickhead, gasping at the lewd speech sound of Francis Edgar Stanley 's hip slapping against his ass. conclude to what, he did n't cognise. But the mounting pleasure in his gut was enough of an indicant. It felt like the Same underlying fire as scare, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
"Come on."John Rowlands growls closer to his ear."Come on, gorgeous. Come for me."
"Oh my Gods."Xavier lets his head gloam back down to the cover, moans silenced in his throat by the jar of one fussy push. 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 Stanley to go even faster.
"Please, Stanley, I 'm so- I 'm so ..."
"Yeah. Yeah, let me get a line it."
They were both talking gibberish, and they knew it. Xavier 's only got worse as he came. Babbling complete gimcrack, riding through his orgasm, painting the cover with dilute streak as Stanley continued to fuck him. He slowed down some, sure, and finally pulled out. He rolls Xavier onto his side, then onto his binding. The other man has gone gimp and does nothing to object.
Henry M. Stanley pulls his wooden leg back up and positions them more exposed than they were. He gets a goodness spirit at Saint Francis Xavier 's brass as he thrusts back into his ass. His cheeks bright red and freckles nearly hidden by the bloom, splotching all the way down to his articulatio humeri and up to the tips of his pointed ears. His eyes are half-lidded, tongue up face and snapper in his open backtalk as he pants. His peter drools the last piffling bit of cum onto his abdomen, misplaced and swaying with the effect of Henry M. Stanley 's hips.
He seems a long way off from coming, which concerns Xavier to some degree. His handwriting reach up weakly to wrap around Stanley 's shoulders, and the man dips down to kiss him. The slapping gets louder and more enunciate this way, Xavier 's ass more open to him. Stanley moves his manpower under Xavier 's let down back, lifting him some, giving him a better vantage level to jazz deeper. Xavier lets out a gutteral groan at this.
It takes Sir Henry Morton Stanley five to a greater extent minutes to cum. Pistoning relentlessly in and out of Saint Francis 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 watches for any to amount dribbling out.
"Stanley,"Xavier pants, exhausted. He makes no move to do anything but breathe.
"I love your ass."He mumbles idly. Saint Francis Xavier lets his head fall back onto the blankets once again, arms laying hitch at his sides. He tightens up again, tensing as Stanley 's fingerbreadth 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 face, 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 time. Xavier lock into Stanley 's breast, and Stanley holds him tight, almost as an apology for fucking him senseless. They both debate on their own sentence how often this reward system will total into play.
Xavier decides that, if it 's going to be like this every clip, then maybe he 'd wish Stanley to insult him more often .