The Great Grey

"I'm just one man," he had called back, good humor undercut by the seemingly endless hunger Arthur had set alight in his gut. One man, with but one prick, and while he was very happy with what the Good Lord had endowed him with, it was still merely one prick.

But he'd do his best to make Arthur content with just the one, anyway.

What he hadn't been prepared for – and in retrospect it was silly of him not to consider the possibility – was to be witness to the utterly sinful performance the valet was putting on for him. Cash's breath was stolen from him and he froze with his shirt open and half-way shrugged off, mouth falling slack even for the pure debauchery Arthur was capable of.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Immediately it became the single-most important thing in the world that the cowboy divest himself of his trousers, and he did so in what must certainly have been record time. The very moment he'd kicked trousers and drawers aside, he was between Arthur's legs. There was no time to grab the oil, so instead he tugged the valet's slick fingers from his hole and guided them to his cock. For some it wouldn't be enough, even with the copious amount of pre steadily dripping from his cock, but there was no doubt in his mind that Arthur could handle it.

The desperation with which he pushed into the younger man was something completely foreign to the American; something he hadn't felt since he was all of sixteen or seventeen, tumbling the cook's daughter in the hayloft. "Fuck," he bit out, the warm grip of Arthur's ass bliss after having denied himself even that short while. "Jesus fuckin' wept." The words were muffled by the hungry kisses he favored Arthur with, not giving the merest pause to allow the other to become adjusted to the thick cock pinning him to the ground before rocking his hips at a punishing pace, chasing the orgasm that already seemed nigh-imminent.

Cash had made a request — No, in actuality, it had been an order. Who was Arthur to not oblige? Arthur, however, had not accounted for the sheer, naked hunger that overtook the older man, nor in his considerable haste to push him open himself.

A soft chirrup of a laugh pushed from Arthur's throat, but there was no time for anything more before his fingers were wrapped around the heft of Cash's cock, and sliding its thick head past the slippery ring of muscle. The breath caught hard in Arthur's chest, and he arched up to meet Cash's mouth, his slick hands clasping fervently at the back of Cash's neck and his hard-pumping arse.

"Yes," he whimpered as his head fell back, lips parted with hot pants. Lifting his legs, he pulled both knees in nearly to his chest. "Please, fuck. Fill me up, Daddy."

This man was going to be the goddamned death of him.

It wasn't hardly an exaggeration; his heart felt like it was dead-set on exploding out of his chest, his cock was as hard as it had ever been, and any second he wasn't kissing Arthur was only to gasp for air. In the very back of his mind there was a vague shame that he wouldn't be able to give the man the fucking he deserved. This was supposed to be a little treat, a miniature vacation from the stress and responsibilities of his position.

Cash had made a plan.

And it had gone right out the window with his self-discipline and any shred of decency. Now the only thing that mattered was the beautiful, terrible, wonderful and depraved man beneath him and wrapped so deliciously about his cock. Any hope that he might yet stave off his finish was shattered when Arthur spoke to him, called him daddy, sounded like the only thing that could grant him salvation was a fresh load in his ass.

Cash's fresh load, which he was ever-so-willing to give. His hips stuttered at the sound of the word, and a wordless moan was torn from his throat. "Fuck, baby, fuck. I'm gonna fill you up, gonna have you dripping for hours." Hungry kisses broke up his panted words, the stream of them only loosely connected to Cash's waking mind. "I'm gonna fill you so full it'll have to catch. I'm gonna– fuck." Anything else was lost in a moan silenced only as he he kissed the valet again, pushing as deeply as physical possible, entire body tightening as he, very obediently, gave Arthur exactly what he'd asked for, hips resuming again in an off-beat manner as he pulled out a bare inch only to push in hard and deep again, until he had nothing left to give.

Breath shuddering out of him, Arthur wrapped both legs around Cash's hips, feet hooked at the ankles to hold him fast through those last fitful pumps. Hands splayed on either side of Cash's face, Arthur leaned up to kiss him, sloppy and hot and breathless, his chest aching with the hard thump of his pulse.

Baby. He'd called him baby. Arthur hadn't imagined himself much of one for pet names — 'Good boy' apparently notwithstanding — but in the moment it had felt as if Cash had opened his chest and tipped Arthur's heart directly into his hand.

And god but Arthur ought to have been terrified. By all accounts, he ought to have kept hold of the wary feeling that had thrummed through him at the mention of courting. But just then, Cash softening but still snug inside of him, Arthur's own leaking cock caught between their bodies, all he could fathom was wanting this man with him, in him, as often as Cash would allow.

"I think that qualifies as ravishing," Arthur managed, and hiccupped out another soft laugh against Cash's lips.

There was a very strong possibility that Cash had never fucked someone like that before; not even his wife, not any of the casual acquaintances that had filled his bed since her death, not even his own goddamn hand. There was a hunger in him for the valet that, if he lingered on it too long, scared him just a bit.

Not enough to regret any of this, though.

A shaky laugh was the only possible response to the quip, and it wasn't the only shaky part of him. There was no great rush to untangle themselves, no rush to pull away; instead he gave a serious of languid kisses, one hand braced against the ground over Arthur's shoulder, the other still clinging to his ass to keep himself seated as deeply as possible even while his cock softened and finally slipped out with a wet noise.

Only that finally prompted him to sit back on his heels, pushing Arthur's legs up again to see the mess he'd made. "Ain't that the prettiest sight in the world," he all but cooed, biting his lip at the slightly swollen and gaped hole that greeted him. A gentle thumb swiped up the come beginning to drip from it, pushing it back in – a losing battle, but one that made his lower stomach ache even if his cock couldn't yet get hard again.

"Y'know, I had a plan," he finally revealed, abandoning the losing effort to instead lean over and kiss Arthur again. "This was supposed to be all nice'n soft and help you relax after bein' run ragged." Another few kisses, less desperate but no less hungry, and he finally pulled back to peer down at the younger man with a grin. "You feelin' relaxed?"

Stretched across the blanket and still flushed, Arthur watched silently as Cash made his inspection. Heart fluttering in his throat, he angled his hips forward to tip up his arse for a better view, breath hitching at the press of the other man's thumb. By the time Cash climbed back up to find his mouth again, Arthur was attempting, poorly, to suppress an uncharacteristically shy smile.

"Hmm, well," he began as Cash drew away, limbs wandering to slide along the warm planes of the older man's skin, "It was a worthy plan. A truly lovely plan. But mine was better." A grin split his face, and he stared up at Cash a long moment, blue eyes taking in the details of his features in a way he'd not allowed himself that first time, back at Somerset House.

"I'm very relaxed," he promised, his gaze gone a little distant and dreamy. "You relax me. Improbably, considering the size of your cock." He pushed out a soft laugh through his nose, and then reached up to brush a few wayward strands of hair from Cash's brow. "Thank you," he murmured. "For all of this."

It was funny, how things worked and how they felt. Cash had fucked this man twice, had swallowed his spunk, had kissed him more times than he could count. For all that, it was this quiet contemplation that felt the most intimate of any of their shared activities. The hand that brushed the errant strands of hair away might as well have burned where it touched, even as Arthur's gaze likewise seemed to burn everywhere it fell.

"Yours was pretty good," he allowed reluctantly, for all that he still smiled. With the worst of the arousal sated, the American was agonizingly aware of the giddiness in his chest, and the singular cause of it. He didn't believe in love at first sight; hardly thought he believe in love at all, anymore. This wasn't love at first sight, either; maybe love at first fuck, but Cash knew better than that, too.

But he was impossibly, improbably enamored with this man, and it seemed like Arthur was, at the very least, interested as well. It was somewhere to start, at least.

"Good. I hate t'think of what I might've had to resort to if you said you weren't." The teasing aside, he cupped Arthur's cheek, kissed him slowly and gently, savoring the taste of those lips. "You're very welcome. Now, c'mon. I worked hard for all that food, and you're too skinny." His smile turned absolutely devious as he gently pinched the valet's trim side, laughing as he sat back and pulled Arthur up to sit with him on the blanket. They would eat, drink, and God willing, fuck again, and only then would he dare return Arthur to Stourhead and the stresses that plagued him there.