[Adult] I don't wanna be alone

[Arthur Beckwith]

'Fond' as a word was incredibly... adequate. Arthur wouldn't have used it himself, at least not without a hefty dose of cheek to sauce it up, but he had no complaints. God knew Archie wasn't confessing his fondness.

For himself, he was beginning to realize 'fondness' was a tremendous understatement, but that was neither here nor there.

"No one is treating me poorly, you just happen to treat me rather well," he allowed, smiling as he bumped the chilled end of his nose against Cash's. "It makes every other lover I've had seem a bit lacking." Which was perhaps unfair — The vast majority of Arthur's lovers had not been engaged with the intent of more than a single tumble — but undoubtedly the truth.

As he shifted back again, he caught up Cash's left hand in his own, and smeared the better part of the salve he'd earlier scooped up onto the cowboy's fingers. Swinging both of their messy hands out of the way, he leaned in again to press a warm, nuzzling kiss to Cash's mouth, bare chests aligned, and then whispered against his lips, "I want you to open me up."

[Cassius Boone]

Considering the fact that they knew each other Biblically – had known each other in that way a few times now – it was strange to think it, but Cash felt himself having the thought anyway. This was the most intimate they'd been, this kind of close, quiet conversation and the kinds of admissions that could get them in hot water, real quick.

(What comes after courting a man? It was a question he still didn't have much of an answer for.)

"You keep talkin' like that, you're gonna give me a big head. I'm just tryin' to give you what a man like you deserves." Cash teased, though nothing he said was dishonest, or even an understatement. As far as he was concerned, one of these days Arthur would realize what kind of man he'd been bedding, and then he'd go find himself someone who wasn't quite so thoroughly ruined.

But Cash was selfish; he'd savor the moments they had, right up until that moment. He hummed happily into the kiss, obediently reaching down to press a slick finger to Arthur's hole. There was no rush to it, even if he knew that the valet could handle it. They'd already rushed through this before, already rutted like a couple of animals. Cash wanted this to be something different, something that felt as special as the holiday deserved.

"Mm, I've been dreamin' of this since I left," Cash murmured, adding a second finger and continuing to pump them in and out of Arthur's ass. With the cold, he felt ever warmer than normal, and not for the first time the cowboy was also amazed at how tight he felt, no matter how often he must have been fucked. "I want to go slow," he admitted between unhurried kisses, as though it wasn't obvious for how he'd been fingering the other man. "I wanna make this last."

[Arthur Beckwith]

The question of who deserved what was pointless, Arthur felt; no one in their position ever got what they were owed. But that Cash believed he was deserving of more, of better — That was intoxicating regardless of the delivery.

The moment Cash's fingertip slid down to his arse, Arthur's hips rocked back to tip himself up against slippery fingers. A low, throaty hum sounded behind his teeth at that sweet, patient slide, and he found Cash's mouth again, arms sliding behind his shoulders.

"Yes, please," he whispered, hips rotating against the intrusion, teeth catching on the American's bottom lip. "Fuck, I've missed you. I've missed every inch of you," he breathed, and then pulled in a deep inhalation as his head and shoulders arced back. "Oh fuck," he whimpered on a full body shudder, his cock beginning to dribble where it was trapped between their bodies.

[Cassius Boone]

Cash's free hand came up to the nape of Arthur's neck; to run through his hair, to pet him gently, to hold him close. His other fingers continued their slow, deep ministrations, a third finger slipping in and prompting another hungry groan from the cowboy. "Don't you go gettin' too worked up already, baby," he warned with a breathy laugh, "I'm gonna fuck you proper, 'til this sweet ass sucks me dry, whether or not you come before me." It wasn't an idle threat by any means; he'd seen how insatiable the valet could be, had little doubt that the man would love that happening anyway.

For all his intentions, Cash's patience was a very finite thing. They'd been gone for too long, and he wanted to be inside that sweet heat. His fingers slipped out only for him to grab his own cock to line it up with Arthur's hole, pressing into that familiar, tight squeeze and shuddering when the muscle gave way and thick helmeted head of his cock sunk into the other man. "Fuck, sweetheart, you're gonna get every inch, as much and as often as you want."

Pulling Arthur into another hungry kiss, Cash's hands fell to the valet's hips to encourage them back and down, even if it was highly likely that such encouragement was unnecessary. For all that he hadn't taken well to horses at all, the cowboy knew that Arthur was very well capable of riding this particular steed. "Nice'n slow, now, there's a good boy. We got all night."

[Arthur Beckwith]

Head tipping forward again, Arthur blew out a shuddering breath and then nodded, nose brushing over Cash's cheek. "I love when you call me baby," he admitted in a hot whisper, and then dropped his head forward to pant against the junction of Cash's neck and shoulder. Fingers slipped free and were almost immediately replaced by the thick weight of the American's cock, and Arthur pressed a long, low moan against warm skin.

Drawn up into a sloppy kiss, Arthur let Cash's broad hands dictate the pace of his rocking hips, even if it was agonizingly slow. This was not the rough and rushed fucks of their previous couplings; this was intimate in a way that felt near to painful, for all that it was equally exquisite. Arthur slid a hand between their bodies, began a measured stroking of his own wet prick that matched the rock of his hips. "You're so good, Daddy," he half-whimpered into Cash's mouth, already nearly delirious from the smooth stroke of the cock in his arse. He eased away just enough to focus on the blue of Cash's eyes as he rose and fell in his lap. "This is the only place I ever want to be."

[Cassius Boone]

He'd been eager to have Arthur sitting on his cock, but any temptation to turn this into another quick, rough fuck simply never materialized. Cash would be content to spend the rest of the night, just like this: Slowly fucking the valet, kissing him until they were both breathless and their lips were swollen. "Good, 'cause I ain't gonna stop any time soon."

It was admittedly more tempting when Arthur looked at him like that; when he called him daddy and said things like that. There was nowhere that the valet belonged nearly as much as bouncing on a cock, pushed into the bed and fucked like the fine piece of ass he was. It still was unfathomable to Cash that others had had this man in their arms and let him go, kicked him out of bed, to borrow Arthur's own words.

"It could be." The words were half blurted, part of an admission he hadn't quite intended to make just yet. Pulling Arthur down the entire length of his cock, he held him there, rocking his hips and grinding deep into him. It sent a new spike of arousal through him, but it was the valet's eyes that held his attention. "I got an apartment," Cash continued, grip tight on the other man's hips, still fucking into him with that rolling, grinding motion.

"Move in with me. Be my pretty little Sabine woman." He spoke in the panting, hungry manner of dirty talk, but meant every word. "I'll keep you on my cock every minute I ain't workin', and you can– fuck, baby, you can fix up people's duds, or make 'em new ones, or– or whatever you wanna do, 'long as you come home t'me every night." His grip tightened further with seemingly every word, Cash's breath coming quicker as the words drew forward a lurid and impossible vision of a future they could share together.

[Arthur Beckwith]

Speared to the hilt, Arthur gasped, a sharp and startled sound as his head dropped back with his mouth open. "Oh fuck," he managed, the words shuddered and breathless. He'd stilled the fingers stroking his own cock, complete attention focused on every glorious inch of Cash's shaft seated inside of him.

Lips still parted, eyes glassy, he tilted his gaze down again as he sat flush against the rolling pulse of Cash's hips. The mention of the apartment prompted an instinctive smile — Someplace truly private where they could meet on Arthur's nights off in London, explore each other's bodies as well as simply being together in the same space. Critical thinking couldn't be expected of him when he was being so thoroughly and deliciously stretched open, but he liked the idea of it in a distant and unformed sense.

But Cash, it would seem, had a lot more to say.

It was absurd. On some fundamental level Arthur knew it was absurd, even now, even splayed across the American's lap while being soundly fucked. But God did the words shoot straight through him anyway, hot and overwhelming, and he blinked rapidly a few times as if the offer was a tangible object that he'd imagined in the throes of romantic lust. His breath hitched in his chest twice, and fuck, he didn't want to cry, but everything about the moment felt impossible, like this ridiculous American cowboy had sussed out the most secret parts of himself — Rooms that had been locked tight, and that Arthur hadn't even known were there.

He leaned in again, fingers sticky as he spread them on either side of Cash's face, a small hiccup of sound escaping into a short, fierce kiss. "I love you," he admitted, their lips brushing. "I shouldn't. I know better, but being with you, it feels like a wildfire — I can't help it." A soft sound, not quite a sob, bubbled up from his throat. "Please— Please don't leave me."

[Cassius Boone]

For all that it was winter, and they were indoors, Cash felt like a bolt of lightning had fallen upon him. Arthur's tearful reaction still left him a bit off-center, but the valet's words had left absolutely nothing to be misunderstood. A rosy kind of glow settled itself in the cowboy's chest, even at odds with the consternation at Arthur's tears.

His ears still rang with it – I love you I love you I love you. The goofy grin on his face couldn't be displaced, though he lifted his hands from Arthur's hips to cup his face in a mirror of the valet's own grip. "Hey, now, none of that," he softly chided, speaking as he would to a spooked horse. He kissed the other man again, soft and slow. "I ain't goin' anywhere. I told you that I'm yours, as long as you'll have me." The words were a repeat of what he'd said earlier, almost verbatim, but they allowed absolutely no argument.

Smoothing his thumb across Arthur's cheek, Cash kissed him again, his hips again slowly moving, drawing back slightly only to push up in an impossible effort to bury himself deeper. "I can't stop thinkin' about you. You and your soft hands, and your obsession with hangin' up your clothes," he murmured with a laugh against the valet's lips. "I love you, Arthur Beckwith, and don't you dare go sayin' I shouldn't."

[Arthur Beckwith]

All of this emotional frailty was not Arthur, really. Or, he wouldn't have thought it could be before the moment he was presently residing in. Everything about Cash felt potent: His voice, so low and intimate, at odds with his delighted smile; the gentle skim of work-roughened fingers over Arthur's flushed skin; the continued, shallow rhythm of his cock, as if he couldn't bear being anywhere else, even now, than buried as deeply inside of Arthur as possible.

Arthur hadn't cried, not properly, but when he blinked, his lashes came away damp. A laugh hiccoughed past his lips at the description of his eccentricities.

"I won't," he whispered into Cash's mouth. "I ought'nt have said—" His eyes fell closed and he hummed, the particular angle of thrusting allowing for nothing less. "I didn't— I didn't mean that— Oh fuck." His own hips had begun moving again, the slightest shift in positioning making every slide of Cash's thick shaft almost too sweet to bear. "I love you and I love your brilliant cock," he managed, and pressed in for another sloppy, gasping kiss.

[Cassius Boone]

God but this man was going to spoil him entirely too much. Not just for others – a part of Cash feared that had already happened, unwittingly and quietly – but for how well their bodies fit, how responsive the valet was, how fucking gorgeous he looked like this.

The aborted sentences drew another breathy laugh from the cowboy. "What did you mean then, hm? C'mon, Arthur, spit it out." Though the words were teasing, it was still a bit cruel, perhaps; Cash certainly wasn't about to make it any easier on the other man. It had nothing to do with wanting to harm him, or mock him, and everything to do with the thrill of their fucking leaving him struck dumb.

Then again, what he did manage to say was ever so pleasing to the American. "You're gonna get this brilliant cock as often as I can get it up," he promised between the hungry kisses, "'Long as you're a good boy and tell me what you want." Arthur never seemed to have a problem spitting out the filthiest things, but honestly there was no way to lose in this case. Hearing him stutter and stammer his way through a sentence, or again sink further into depravity – both were mighty appealing to Cash's cock.