[Adult] A Stitch in Time

[Cassius Boone]

Fucking Arthur was like riding a well-trained horse; effortless, even in the effort, with every action and reaction seemingly matched to perfection. Even that noise of disappointed complaint was enough to stoke Cash's lust all the further, to say nothing of how the valet pushed back against him. The younger man really was desperate for it, and that left the American delighted.

Little else needed to be said now; at most Cash grunted, or let out quiet, bitten-off groans as he worked with singular focus towards the goal they both desired. It was a goal that would be attainable with ease, too, given the noises that Arthur made and the way he presented himself so well for Cash's cock. It wasn't just idle courtesy or dirty talk to say that he belonged like this, being plowed like a field. Were he not a clearly skilled valet, the only other place for the man would be in some exclusive brothel, draped with silk and slick with oil.

While it would be all too easy to ride him to completion, instead Cash again spanked that inviting ass. "Get on your back," he ordered when he felt that tingling in his balls, pulling his cock out with a wet noise, leaving it twitching in the far less hospitable air. He wanted to watch Arthur's face as he came; wanted to feel that warm skin against his own. Impatiently, as soon as the valet was in position Cash was pushing back into the warmth of his body, pushing his legs back and pinning him to the bed with his body weight. Hungry lips found Arthur's, the kiss demanding and sloppy.

[Arthur Beckwith]

Arthur sucked a sharp hiss through his teeth as Boone's still-slick fingers landed against the curve of his arse, but his hips bucked backward and he wiggled further onto the length of Boone's cock in reply. "Going to leave a mark there as well?" he asked as he cast a glance over the arc of his shoulder. His mouth had been open in a lazy smile that now faltered with another low sound of distress as he found himself abruptly empty.

Some men liked this as well, to have him spread out on his back like a meal, but he hadn't expected it from this one.

Boone was sliding back inside of him almost as soon as his back touched the blanket, and Arthur stuttered out a laugh that was quieted by an urgent kiss with equal efficiency. Pinned, there was little room to move, and he could feel the warm smear of precome across his abdomen. His teeth found Boone's lower lip and then the freshly-shaved curve of his chin, the scent of his own shaving soap flooding his nostrils and twitching his cock where it was trapped between their bodies.

"I smell good on you," he murmured, and slid both hands around his own swaying calves and Boone's straining arms to clasp hard against the other man's arse.

[Cassius Boone]

It was a tempting suggestion, but made too late. They would simply have to revisit it later – perhaps during all the free time Arthur had said he'd have at Stourhead. Time and space for them to see just how red and warm that arse could get, and how pretty the noises the valet could make while they made it so. The thought alone drew a hungry groan out of Cash, but it was a plan for the future. For now he simply would not be deterred. "Next time," he did promise, roughly squeezing a handful of that delectable flesh before proceeding with the flipping and fucking.

It wasn't entirely expected, to hear the words; wasn't at all expected to feel the smug satisfaction that they brought. Still, Cash could only grin. "Haven't smelled this good in months," he admitted, stealing another brief kiss. "Guess I'd better come around again, next time I wanna smell nice." There was already no doubt in his mind that there would be a next time for them, but it hardly stopped him from teasing about it.

Between their kissing, the hands on his own ass, and that delicious warm heat of Arthur's hole, all too soon that tightening feeling in his balls came again. "Should I fill you up," Cash mused, half in question and half in statement, "Or make a bigger mess of you?" Both were very appealing: Either knowing that the valet would be walking around all day with Cash's seed dripping out of his hole, or the thought of him like this, flushed, hair tousled, face dripping with it.

Regardless, a decision would be made soon enough; either by direction from the other man, or lack of speedy response. Cash sat up just enough to allow his hand to find Arthur's cock, stroking it firmly in time with his thrusts. Whether he came in the valet's ass or all over his face, he was also determined to see the man at least with a mess of his own making smeared upon himself. (Besides, he wasn't so selfish as to get off without making an effort to see his partner off, too.)

[Arthur Beckwith]

Neck craning, Arthur licked into Boone's mouth, blue eyes bright as he pulled him forward with fingers pressed hard into the straining curve of his arse. Their bodies were fitted as flush as possible, but Arthur wanted him deeper still, deep enough to practically taste him on every forward thrust.

At Boone's impossible question, Arthur's entire body jolted with a hot, gasping shudder, and his head tipped back open-mouthed at the sheer, cock-stiffening audacity of the man. A laugh choked in his throat, and he grit his teeth as Boone shifted above him and sent another shockwave through already-tensed muscles.

"Oh fuck, you fuck—" he managed, more breathless noises than proper words, and then tipped his head up to level the other man with a glassy, shivering gaze as he writhed beneath the stroke of efficient fingers over his cock, and that glorious, pumping cock in his hole.

"Come all over me," he said, every word enunciated to perfection if still pushed through his teeth, and then dropped back to the pillow as he strained, wordless, blunt nails scratching into skin as he striped his own abdomen and chest in fitful spurts.

[Cassius Boone]

For how tightly their bodies pushed together – for how Arthur pulled them tighter still, even when there was no more to give save should their bodies begin to merge in truth – Cash truly didn't expect the answer that came. There was little enough time to appreciate it, though, to laugh at it; as soon as it was given, Arthur's orgasm caused his ass to tighten, and Cash was left overwhelmed by the sensation of it, especially as it married with the incredibly erotic sight of the valet painting his own chest.

Gasping with the losing effort of staving off his own orgasm, the cowboy was quick to pull out, kneeling astride the younger man's chest with hurried motions as he gripped his cock in one hand, Arthur's hair again in the other. It took all of three rapid strokes for him to tense, and then his own release rushed through him in a heady wave of pleasure. The first shot half missed Arthur's face; painted a trail up into his hair and off onto his pillow. The rest were aimed more carefully, leaving the valet looking like the licentious creature he truly was.

Lazily, Cash continued stroking himself until there was naught left to give but unproductive shivers of pleasure. Only then did he finally release his softening cock, though he still looked down at the other man with a smug self-satisfaction. "Pretty as a goddamned picture," he declared, laughing breathlessly. And he was, at that; so pretty it seemed a goddamned shame that this wasn't his state at any given moment: Freshly and fully fucked, covered in spunk and impossibly pleased about it.

[Arthur Beckwith]

Chest rising with gulped breaths, Arthur stared up at him, his tongue first darting out over his bottom lip before he pulled the whole of it into his mouth, chasing the musky taste dripping from his mouth and chin. This was, perhaps, Arthur at his most natural: Flushed and thoroughly debauched, wrenched open for someone else's pleasure. Empty but well-fucked, that was our Mr. Beckwith.

Pinned yet in place by the span of Boone's thighs, he lay like that, warm and pliant, and began to draw idle filigree patterns in the mess he'd made of his chest. "We ought to do this again," he said in a low murmur, gaze held steady, and brought his finger to his mouth to suck it clean. It wasn't often that he made himself a regular lover to anyone — Very specific, high-ranking persons notwithstanding — but there was something about Boone's particular aspect that pulled like a magnet to steel. This was a man who would fuck him hard without complaint, but couldn't shove him from the bed when they were done.

[Cassius Boone]

God, but if only he were a young man again. Watching the absolutely licentious performance the younger man was putting on, Cash still felt the burn of arousal in the pit of his stomach. There was an answering twitch in his cock, but nothing else; as much as he would love to fuck Arthur into the mattress the whole day long, his body was not quite able to keep up with the demand of his mind.

Instead he had to resign himself to the promise of another fuck in the future. One that he would be certain to make last, as well.

Cash bent, mouth following Arthur's fingers to kiss the other man, not caring at all if it meant dirtying his face with his own spend. The fact that he had just cum didn't stop him from favoring the other with a kiss just as hungry as when they'd started; and even when they parted, his tongue licked across those far-too-fuckable lips. "We're going to," he decided for the both of them, taking one last kiss before freeing Arthur from under him, instead flopping to the side of the other; a careful position to take, given the size of the bed, but he was hardly afraid of skin contact now, after they knew each other Biblically.

Vaguely he was aware of the next order of business: Getting up, getting dressed, getting on with the day's errands. As distasteful as the thought of putting that ill-fitting suit back on was, there was some relief in knowing that a better-fitting suit would be forthcoming. And, for all that Arthur was insistent upon not being paid for it, this seemed like a plenty-acceptable method of repayment instead. "You let me take you ridin' over'in Stourhead, I'm sure we can find some quiet corner to make less'n quiet." Again came the rather smug grin; even a very enjoyable fuck wasn't near enough to make the cowboy forget about the, to him, shocking revelation that the other man had never ridden a horse.

[Arthur Beckwith]

The kiss was welcomed, and Arthur's hands splayed over either side of Boone's face as his eager tongue licked into the warmth of his mouth. He might have kept on, let his breathlessness wane into a languid exploration of each other's mouths, but it was something of a miracle that Boone hadn't collapsed already. The surprise was that the man settled alongside him on the thin mattress rather than begin tidying himself to depart.

Arthur shifted to his side and draped a fair half of his body over the older man, one heavy leg thrown clean across Boone's hips, just shy of his softening cock. "You are genuinely obsessed with horses, Mr. Boone," he purred as he notched his body against the cowboy's flank and began to nose catlike under the curve of his jaw. "But I may yet oblige you." And a quiet corner would be beyond the normal necessity, he thought, although he had little enough notion of whether Archie might prove a possessive sort in the long, idle days, and even longer, idle nights over the winter.

[Cassius Boone]

Cash had honestly half-expected Arthur to dismiss him; a polite but final, thank you, you can go now. To find him instead draping himself over Cash, nuzzling up close, was a rather pleasant surprise. Sure, the cowboy needed to catch his breath, but mostly it was nice to just have the moment. To sit with a body close to his; no expectations, no other needs to be met, no money to change hands, no hurried rushing out lest they be discovered. It was something he hadn't had in... Well. Quite some time.

It was nice.

But he still snorted a laugh at the accusation. "Just you wait," he promised, sliding his arm around Arthur's shoulders, letting his hand fall idly – and perhaps a bit possessively – onto the swell of his ass. "I've been ridin' since before I could walk. Honest to God, if I had to choose between never ridin' a horse again or never fuckin' again, I'd part with a sweet ass like yours faster'n you could open your mouth." At the descriptor of that sweet ass, there was an accompanying squeeze. No, Cash couldn't fuck Arthur again (not that day, at least), but that didn't stop the valet from having one hell of a sinful body.

"And if you try it and still don't like it, I guess I'll just have to make it up to you. But you'll like it," he continued, confident and lazy, "And you'll have to think real hard on how to thank me for showin' you what you've been missin'."