Honesty
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“Is something wrong?” Comes the deep, throaty voice of his companion. That voice alone was enough to rumble deep beneath his heart and stir in his stomach.
“No.” 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 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 isn't worth 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 different constellations he'd been trained to find since he was a teen. The shield, the sword, 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 Xavier's back. He regrets his choice to not wear armor.
“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 gold 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 road into town, and houses scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some distance away, the sound of the water wheel at the sawmill splashing up into their ears as they walked. Stanley felt the need to redirect 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 control himself.
“I don't understand. There is a barter system, you know.” Xavier points out impatiently, being taken away from the last shop on the road.
“I do know.” Stanley nods, keeping his eyes forward.
“I may not have had to spend any money.”
“This way, there is a guarantee that you won't. Instead of a chance.”
Xavier frowns, blowing a lock of tawdry red hair out of his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. His eyes stay put on Stanley's, watching him intently instead of the road.
“Why must you always control me like this?” Xavier asks as they enter the inn.
“Control you, how?” Stanley seems unimpressed, placing their ten coins on the counter 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 won't allow me to do anything for myself. You claim that it's 'safer' that way.” Xavier raises his hands in a quoting motion, following Stanley still to the room they were assigned. He waits for the door to close behind Xavier before he sets his pack down and responds.
“It is safer that way. If I wasn't looking out for you, you would get yourself into far too much trouble.”
“Horseshit!” Xavier snaps through tight teeth. “I could handle myself just fine, even before I met you!”
“Xavier, please.” Stanley relents, pulling at the straps holding his armor to his body. “I do not want to quarrel with you.”
“Then admit there is nothing to quarrel about.”
“I won't lie to you.”
Xavier narrows his eyes, stomping to the other end of the room. Stanley continues unhindered, unstrapping his chestplate with practiced and easy 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 shape of Stanley's groin beneath the chainmail. He feels unsure about lusting after his companion as he had for some time. If it isn't a distraction, it's surely at least unprofessional. Prompting him to think, was this a professional relationship? Surely it was. They were business partners, most likely. Traveling the countryside looking for odd jobs, 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 grounds for a courtship? Perhaps.
It occurred to Xavier then, as Stanley finally sat to remove his boots, that his thoughts had gone completely off course. Grounds for a courtship or not, this mean clearly understood nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Xavier was angry all anew.
“Xavier,” Stanley says softly, catching the look the shorter man holds. The frustration is obvious, but the dusting of blush between his freckles 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 powers that you're careless with.”
“I do not need anything like that! I don't need 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 didn't hire you, I didn'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 doesn't respond, only stares at him, evenly. His hands are frozen on the cuff of one of his boots. He doesn't dare 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 head bows lower, as he removes his boot in full.
“I will accept those burdens and scars,” he says, slowly, “so long as they keep you safe.”
“Why!?” Xavier's voice rises higher than it had yet, angry and tinged with desperation. “Why do you care this much? Do you have some kind of need to feel important? Do you get off on a job well done? What, are you hoping one day, I'll jump 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 rough wooden floors, stopping just in front of the shorter man and raising both hands to his face. He holds the soft jawline between his fingers as gently as he is capable of. One huge calloused thumb brushes across the swell of his cheek.
“Because,” Stanley murmurs, swallowing thickly. “I care for you.”
Xavier's awe twists hard into sour disdain. He takes hold of Stanley's wrists, 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 steps 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 frowns in pity. Xavier's knees are pulled up to his chest, the curve of his ass visible beneath the clinging fabric of his robes. Everything about him is delicate, soft 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 didn'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 head from the pillow some to look at Stanley. The tears at the corners of his eyes are the saddest thing the man's ever seen. “You think I'm just a child.”
“I don't,” Stanley slips off of the bed to kneel beside it, eye-to-eye with Xavier. “I think that you're strong and confident, and well educated. The magic you control terrifies me. That is why I want you to stay safe. There aren'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 won't lie to you.”
Xavier considers this for some time. His eyes, an electric glittering blue, cut a hole into Stanley's heart that wasn't there before. His 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 hint of a smile.
It becomes clear in that time to Stanley that he won't say anything. Not that there's much to say, anyways. Xavier's thin fingers have come up to rest over the knuckles on Stanley's hand, and they curl around the back to grasp it and lift 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.
Xavier's tongue is slick and pliable, edging its way in ever so insistently. Stanley exhales a contented sigh through his nose, pulling the other man closer by his chin and deepening their kiss. A hand suddenly touches at Stanley's shoulder. 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 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 side of the bed, his undershirt following, covering the metal over like a tarp. His tanned skin is obscured some by smatterings and tangles of hair growing in any and all possible places. 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 mouth water. His focus is broken by Stanley's hand redirecting his own down to the bed. Stanley pulls with purpose at the sash holding his robes together, sitting back on his legs when the knot finally gives. He unfolds Xavier's robes open like a book that he just can't wait to read. Those soft blue pages fall open onto the bed, revealing fine smooth skin peppered with freckles. Stanley can't resist, 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 tongue stops at his neck. It's accompanied by a kiss, a breath, and the distinct feel of teeth pressing just into the vulnerable side of his throat. Xavier gasps, fingers tightening around his hip.
Stanley's large hands continue to work beneath the guise of his lips, pulling at the waist of Xavier's trousers and tugging them down to his thighs. He looks down between them. He sees the head of his own cock, masked by foreskin, 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 sighs, feeling Stanley's cock slide up against his. He bucks his hips upward, his flat stomach brushing against the solid ripple of Stanley's. “Gods. Stanley, please.”
“Please, what, my dear?” Stanley asks, honestly.
“Touch me.”
He can't say no to a request like that.
Stanley's hand wraps around both of their cocks, 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 feeling of Xavier's gasps 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 pocket, he feels Stanley's hands grasp firmly onto his ass. The thumbs spread his cheeks wide. His soft hum peaks to a cry as a flat 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 hole, opening him up, their course has been set. Xavier hands the glass bottle back to him, the translucent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. Stanley sits up on his knees and pulls the cork from the bottle with his teeth. Where this oil came from, he has no exact knowledge. He pours a liberal amount directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his knees, cheek pushed into the bedding, heart beating 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 Stanley palms absently at his balls. His other hand works dexterously to finger Xavier open. The man gasps with every extra finger inserted, rubbing insistently at his insides and scissoring to stretch him out. All coherent 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 look at the sight before him. Legs spread, ass swaying in the air, soaked and slick and open. His cock hangs flushed and heavy beneath. Stanley gives it a few sympathetic 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 second to pour a bit extra onto himself, figuring there can't really be too much.
“Are you ready?” Stanley asks, placing both hands on Xavier's hips.
“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 first push of Stanley's cock, Xavier's eyes fly wide open. 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 onslaught 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 struggles to regain his breath. Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the tight 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 can't. It won't...”
“It will.” He's already reaching for the remainder of the oil. “I promise. We can stop any time, okay?”
Xavier only forces out a noise in response, hiding his face 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 swell of pride in his gut and pulls back slowly, oiling up the length of his cock until it drips onto the bedding. Slow once again, he pushes back into Xavier. Part of him can't wait 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 shoulders all the while to gauge his reactions. The redhead still has his face hidden to muffle his cries and disguise his flushed and red cheeks. Eventually, his shoulders fall, arms relaxing. A particularly deep move releases a full and deep moan, as opposed to the short and chopped ones he'd been giving. 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 pace, still just as deep, moving in until he feels his own balls nudge against Xavier's. The noises below him spur him to go even faster. Stanley rolls his hips, 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 blades, worsening as Stanley's hands come to wrap around his chest. He tugs at Xavier's nipples, the feeling going straight to his cock. Another bead of precum dribbles out, quickly swiped away by the blankets beneath them. Stanley stretches him wide, fucking into him hard, 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 sobs, gasping at the lewd sounds of Stanley's hips slapping against his ass. Close to what, he didn't know. But the mounting pleasure in his gut was enough of an indication. It felt like the same underlying fire as panic, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
“Come on.” Stanley growls closer to his ear. “Come on, gorgeous. Come for me.”
“Oh my Gods.” Xavier lets his head fall back down to the blankets, moans silenced in his throat by the shock of one particular 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 Stanley to go even faster.
“Please, Stanley, I'm so- I'm so...”
“Yeah. Yeah, let me hear it.”
They were both talking gibberish, and they knew it. Xavier's only got worse as he came. Babbling complete nonsense, riding through his orgasm, painting the blankets with thin stripes as Stanley continued to fuck him. He slowed down some, sure, and finally pulled out. He rolls Xavier onto his side, then onto his back. The other man has gone limp and does nothing to object.
Stanley pulls his legs back up and positions them more open than they were. He gets a good look at Xavier's face as he thrusts back into his ass. His cheeks bright red and freckles nearly hidden by the blush, splotching all the way down to his shoulders and up to the tips of his pointed ears. His eyes are half-lidded, tongue up front and center in his open mouth as he pants. His cock drools the last little bit of cum onto his stomach, 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 wrap around Stanley's shoulders, and the man dips down to kiss him. The slapping gets louder and more pronounced this way, Xavier's ass more open to him. Stanley moves his hands under Xavier's lower back, lifting him some, giving him a better vantage point to fuck deeper. Xavier lets out a gutteral groan at this.
It takes 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 cock. He sits back and actually watches for any to come dribbling out.
“Stanley,” Xavier pants, exhausted. He makes no move 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 sides. He tightens up again, tensing as Stanley's finger digs into his hole. Fingering him shallowly and withdrawing a wad of stringy cum. He feels it being wiped back onto his hole as more comes dripping out. Xavier lays an arm over his face, embarrassed.
“Don't look at it.” He says, quietly. Stanley obeys and moves up to lay beside him.
They stay like that for some time. Xavier curls into Stanley's chest, 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 time, then maybe he'd like Stanley to insult him more often. -->
“No.” 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 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 isn't worth 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 different constellations he'd been trained to find since he was a teen. The shield, the sword, 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 Xavier's back. He regrets his choice to not wear armor.
“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 gold 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 road into town, and houses scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some distance away, the sound of the water wheel at the sawmill splashing up into their ears as they walked. Stanley felt the need to redirect 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 control himself.
“I don't understand. There is a barter system, you know.” Xavier points out impatiently, being taken away from the last shop on the road.
“I do know.” Stanley nods, keeping his eyes forward.
“I may not have had to spend any money.”
“This way, there is a guarantee that you won't. Instead of a chance.”
Xavier frowns, blowing a lock of tawdry red hair out of his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. His eyes stay put on Stanley's, watching him intently instead of the road.
“Why must you always control me like this?” Xavier asks as they enter the inn.
“Control you, how?” Stanley seems unimpressed, placing their ten coins on the counter 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 won't allow me to do anything for myself. You claim that it's 'safer' that way.” Xavier raises his hands in a quoting motion, following Stanley still to the room they were assigned. He waits for the door to close behind Xavier before he sets his pack down and responds.
“It is safer that way. If I wasn't looking out for you, you would get yourself into far too much trouble.”
“Horseshit!” Xavier snaps through tight teeth. “I could handle myself just fine, even before I met you!”
“Xavier, please.” Stanley relents, pulling at the straps holding his armor to his body. “I do not want to quarrel with you.”
“Then admit there is nothing to quarrel about.”
“I won't lie to you.”
Xavier narrows his eyes, stomping to the other end of the room. Stanley continues unhindered, unstrapping his chestplate with practiced and easy 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 shape of Stanley's groin beneath the chainmail. He feels unsure about lusting after his companion as he had for some time. If it isn't a distraction, it's surely at least unprofessional. Prompting him to think, was this a professional relationship? Surely it was. They were business partners, most likely. Traveling the countryside looking for odd jobs, 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 grounds for a courtship? Perhaps.
It occurred to Xavier then, as Stanley finally sat to remove his boots, that his thoughts had gone completely off course. Grounds for a courtship or not, this mean clearly understood nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Xavier was angry all anew.
“Xavier,” Stanley says softly, catching the look the shorter man holds. The frustration is obvious, but the dusting of blush between his freckles 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 powers that you're careless with.”
“I do not need anything like that! I don't need 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 didn't hire you, I didn'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 doesn't respond, only stares at him, evenly. His hands are frozen on the cuff of one of his boots. He doesn't dare 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 head bows lower, as he removes his boot in full.
“I will accept those burdens and scars,” he says, slowly, “so long as they keep you safe.”
“Why!?” Xavier's voice rises higher than it had yet, angry and tinged with desperation. “Why do you care this much? Do you have some kind of need to feel important? Do you get off on a job well done? What, are you hoping one day, I'll jump 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 rough wooden floors, stopping just in front of the shorter man and raising both hands to his face. He holds the soft jawline between his fingers as gently as he is capable of. One huge calloused thumb brushes across the swell of his cheek.
“Because,” Stanley murmurs, swallowing thickly. “I care for you.”
Xavier's awe twists hard into sour disdain. He takes hold of Stanley's wrists, 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 steps 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 frowns in pity. Xavier's knees are pulled up to his chest, the curve of his ass visible beneath the clinging fabric of his robes. Everything about him is delicate, soft 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 didn'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 head from the pillow some to look at Stanley. The tears at the corners of his eyes are the saddest thing the man's ever seen. “You think I'm just a child.”
“I don't,” Stanley slips off of the bed to kneel beside it, eye-to-eye with Xavier. “I think that you're strong and confident, and well educated. The magic you control terrifies me. That is why I want you to stay safe. There aren'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 won't lie to you.”
Xavier considers this for some time. His eyes, an electric glittering blue, cut a hole into Stanley's heart that wasn't there before. His 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 hint of a smile.
It becomes clear in that time to Stanley that he won't say anything. Not that there's much to say, anyways. Xavier's thin fingers have come up to rest over the knuckles on Stanley's hand, and they curl around the back to grasp it and lift 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.
Xavier's tongue is slick and pliable, edging its way in ever so insistently. Stanley exhales a contented sigh through his nose, pulling the other man closer by his chin and deepening their kiss. A hand suddenly touches at Stanley's shoulder. 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 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 side of the bed, his undershirt following, covering the metal over like a tarp. His tanned skin is obscured some by smatterings and tangles of hair growing in any and all possible places. 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 mouth water. His focus is broken by Stanley's hand redirecting his own down to the bed. Stanley pulls with purpose at the sash holding his robes together, sitting back on his legs when the knot finally gives. He unfolds Xavier's robes open like a book that he just can't wait to read. Those soft blue pages fall open onto the bed, revealing fine smooth skin peppered with freckles. Stanley can't resist, 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 tongue stops at his neck. It's accompanied by a kiss, a breath, and the distinct feel of teeth pressing just into the vulnerable side of his throat. Xavier gasps, fingers tightening around his hip.
Stanley's large hands continue to work beneath the guise of his lips, pulling at the waist of Xavier's trousers and tugging them down to his thighs. He looks down between them. He sees the head of his own cock, masked by foreskin, 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 sighs, feeling Stanley's cock slide up against his. He bucks his hips upward, his flat stomach brushing against the solid ripple of Stanley's. “Gods. Stanley, please.”
“Please, what, my dear?” Stanley asks, honestly.
“Touch me.”
He can't say no to a request like that.
Stanley's hand wraps around both of their cocks, 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 feeling of Xavier's gasps 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 pocket, he feels Stanley's hands grasp firmly onto his ass. The thumbs spread his cheeks wide. His soft hum peaks to a cry as a flat 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 hole, opening him up, their course has been set. Xavier hands the glass bottle back to him, the translucent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. Stanley sits up on his knees and pulls the cork from the bottle with his teeth. Where this oil came from, he has no exact knowledge. He pours a liberal amount directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his knees, cheek pushed into the bedding, heart beating 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 Stanley palms absently at his balls. His other hand works dexterously to finger Xavier open. The man gasps with every extra finger inserted, rubbing insistently at his insides and scissoring to stretch him out. All coherent 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 look at the sight before him. Legs spread, ass swaying in the air, soaked and slick and open. His cock hangs flushed and heavy beneath. Stanley gives it a few sympathetic 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 second to pour a bit extra onto himself, figuring there can't really be too much.
“Are you ready?” Stanley asks, placing both hands on Xavier's hips.
“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 first push of Stanley's cock, Xavier's eyes fly wide open. 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 onslaught 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 struggles to regain his breath. Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the tight 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 can't. It won't...”
“It will.” He's already reaching for the remainder of the oil. “I promise. We can stop any time, okay?”
Xavier only forces out a noise in response, hiding his face 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 swell of pride in his gut and pulls back slowly, oiling up the length of his cock until it drips onto the bedding. Slow once again, he pushes back into Xavier. Part of him can't wait 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 shoulders all the while to gauge his reactions. The redhead still has his face hidden to muffle his cries and disguise his flushed and red cheeks. Eventually, his shoulders fall, arms relaxing. A particularly deep move releases a full and deep moan, as opposed to the short and chopped ones he'd been giving. 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 pace, still just as deep, moving in until he feels his own balls nudge against Xavier's. The noises below him spur him to go even faster. Stanley rolls his hips, 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 blades, worsening as Stanley's hands come to wrap around his chest. He tugs at Xavier's nipples, the feeling going straight to his cock. Another bead of precum dribbles out, quickly swiped away by the blankets beneath them. Stanley stretches him wide, fucking into him hard, 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 sobs, gasping at the lewd sounds of Stanley's hips slapping against his ass. Close to what, he didn't know. But the mounting pleasure in his gut was enough of an indication. It felt like the same underlying fire as panic, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
“Come on.” Stanley growls closer to his ear. “Come on, gorgeous. Come for me.”
“Oh my Gods.” Xavier lets his head fall back down to the blankets, moans silenced in his throat by the shock of one particular 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 Stanley to go even faster.
“Please, Stanley, I'm so- I'm so...”
“Yeah. Yeah, let me hear it.”
They were both talking gibberish, and they knew it. Xavier's only got worse as he came. Babbling complete nonsense, riding through his orgasm, painting the blankets with thin stripes as Stanley continued to fuck him. He slowed down some, sure, and finally pulled out. He rolls Xavier onto his side, then onto his back. The other man has gone limp and does nothing to object.
Stanley pulls his legs back up and positions them more open than they were. He gets a good look at Xavier's face as he thrusts back into his ass. His cheeks bright red and freckles nearly hidden by the blush, splotching all the way down to his shoulders and up to the tips of his pointed ears. His eyes are half-lidded, tongue up front and center in his open mouth as he pants. His cock drools the last little bit of cum onto his stomach, 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 wrap around Stanley's shoulders, and the man dips down to kiss him. The slapping gets louder and more pronounced this way, Xavier's ass more open to him. Stanley moves his hands under Xavier's lower back, lifting him some, giving him a better vantage point to fuck deeper. Xavier lets out a gutteral groan at this.
It takes 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 cock. He sits back and actually watches for any to come dribbling out.
“Stanley,” Xavier pants, exhausted. He makes no move 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 sides. He tightens up again, tensing as Stanley's finger digs into his hole. Fingering him shallowly and withdrawing a wad of stringy cum. He feels it being wiped back onto his hole as more comes dripping out. Xavier lays an arm over his face, embarrassed.
“Don't look at it.” He says, quietly. Stanley obeys and moves up to lay beside him.
They stay like that for some time. Xavier curls into Stanley's chest, 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 time, then maybe he'd like Stanley to insult him more often. -->
Blaze
- 04.12.2020
- 28
- 0
