[Adult] I don't wanna be alone

[Arthur Beckwith]

Another laugh escaped Arthur's throat, softer and hissed through teeth pressed to his bottom lip. "Fuck—," he tried again, but his head dropped back once more with a shuddering gasp, and he couldn't have said whether he'd meant it as enthusiastic exclamation or to tack 'you' fondly onto the end. To even contemplate what he wanted beyond what was happening at that very moment felt nigh impossible. The cock inside of him was huge and perfect and attached to a man he'd fallen in stupid, heart-staggering love with. What else could he possibly want?

Aside from, perhaps, giving that man everything he asked for.

After indulging in one more breathless round of lips and tongues, Arthur eased back, that perfect, huge cock nearly slipping free as he unfolded his legs and canted his torso back. Palms splayed on the blanket between Cash's spread thighs, he braced his feet and began riding the thick shaft like he was starving for it, head tossed back and bottom lip back between his teeth. Whether he might yet form full sentences like this was uncertain, given how perfect the position was for making him feel entirely mad, but he knew for a fact he could put on a show.

"You—" he gasped — And wanted to look at Cash again, wanted to look down to where his own cock was half-soft now and bouncing with each thrust, but knew better — "You stretch me open so good, Daddy," he managed, the words slurred into a whine. "Can you suh-suh— Oh fuck, it's so good," he digressed despite himself, further words dissolving into a hard shudder.

[Cassius Boone]

The new position was dangerous; it had been fine to keep his climax at bay with the intimacy of the slow, deep fuck they'd been having. Now all bets were off, especially to see Arthur so damned wanton. Were it possible, Cash would want a picture of him, just like this: Driving himself madly upon the American's cock, head thrown back, mouth open, flushed with need and pleasure.

Everything he was saying was just the cherry on top.

"Fuck, baby," he ground out, hands resting on Arthur's waist but allowing him to do the work of it all. "You keep that up and I'm gonna fill you up," he warned, breathless, staring with unblinking and rapt attention at the show being put on, and all just for him. One hand released Arthur's waist, wrapped around his bouncing cock to pump it roughly in time with the valet's movements. "Think you can come on Daddy's cock, baby? Fuck, you're so fucking tight. I love you, baby, I love this fuckin' ass."

The words alone were almost as much a thrill as the feeling of Arthur around him, so hot and tight and slick. Giddy with the whole of it, Cash tried the words on for size again. "I love you, Arthur, I fuckin', fuck!" His hand didn't slow on the valet's cock, but his other pulled him down, hard, even as his hips lifted in an attempt to seed the other man as deeply as possible. The strength of it shocked him, left him truly breathless even as his back arched and his own mouth fell open, his hips moving shallowly to drag the rush of it out for as long as he could, eyes locked on the licentious show of the valet, still in his lap.

[Arthur Beckwith]

There hadn't been time for Arthur to do as asked, and he might have felt a bit bad about that had he not been enjoying fully orgasmic shivers for at least half the time Cash had been inside him. The slide of the American's fingers had been nearly too much, but then he'd pinned Arthur in place and Arthur's feet had slid forward across the blanket, and he'd pressed his hips down until Cash couldn't possibly be any deeper, and Arthur had hummed a rich, satisfied sound low in his throat when he felt the cock stiffen inside the eager clutch of his hole.

"Love you, Daddy," he'd murmured, barely audible, rotating his hips to grind down into Cash's last fitful thrusts, and then allowed his hands to slide from beneath him as well. As he collapsed, panting, between the older man's strong thighs — He ought to thank the bloody horses, he supposed — the angle pushed the softening cock from inside of him, and he made a soft mew of of disappointment.

Flung across Cash and the blanket, he lay there, spent, as the chill began to prickle the sweat that had gathered across his chest and hairline. After a long, languid moment, Arthur drew in a deep breath and levered himself up onto his elbows.

"Did you just come from saying you loved me?"

[Cassius Boone]

Thoroughly spent, sweaty, the weight of Arthur distributed awkwardly across his lap, Cash could do little but lay boneless in the afterglow. Hands that had fallen to either side rose again to caress Arthur's thighs as the valet lifted himself once more, though the question made him laugh. There was no shame to it, no hesitation. "Well I think your hot little ass had somethin' to do with it too, cher."

With a half-groan, half-laugh, he pushed himself up only enough to reach for Arthur, to pull the valet back up to lay against his chest; then he allowed them both to fall back against the hay. With one arm wrapped around the man's waist, holding him close, the other reached down to push two fingers into that stretched, slick hole. "Mm, fuck, baby, you stretch so good for me. Oughta get you a plug though, for after. Hate thinkin' of all that goin' to waste." It'd go to waste anyway; Cash wasn't ignorant of the way of the natural order.

But it was enticing to think of an alternative, if only in the heat of the moment and the warmth of the afterglow.

"I really did get myself an apartment," he offered unprompted, pulling his fingers from Arthur's ass, letting it rest on one of those soft cheeks instead. "I ain't sayin' you should leave your work. I know how much it means t'you. But you'd always be welcome, whether I'm there or not." He was rambling, a part of him recognized, but it was important to him to clarify. Cash had said plenty that didn't really mean anything after his balls were drained and he'd returned unwillingly to reality, but not what he'd said about having a place for them, and certainly not what he'd said about his feelings for Arthur.

[Arthur Beckwith]

"I do have a rather nice arse," Arthur conceded, and then consented enough to be moved if only to be properly back in the older man's arms. His mouth had opened again — Was that French? — but his voice arrested as thick fingers plunged inside the mess that had been made of him, and he moaned open-mouthed against the side of Cash's neck.

Arthur hiccoughed a soft laugh against the stubbled skin of Cash's throat. "Admit it," he mumbled without looking up, his hips pressing back against the intrusion of their own volition, his thigh muscles twitching. "You were terribly disappointed the first time, when I chose my face." An exaggeration perhaps, but it had only required one more romp together to make it exceedingly clear how much it excited the American to know he'd filled Arthur's arse with his spunk.

Relieved of the glorious but somewhat hindering onslaught of sensation, Arthur pushed himself onto his palms to stare back down at Cash. "What, I'm not to be your Sabine woman now?" he asked, unable to suppress his giddy smile. "I've no idea what that even means; I assumed I was meant to lounge about eating bon-bons all day."

[Cassius Boone]

The mumbled accusation spurred on another laugh. "I wouldn't say terribly. You sure looked really pretty all painted with my spunk." A happy hum accompanied the memory Arthur had stirred, though it did prompt a sigh. "Wish I'd found you ten years ago. Then I could give you both." A slight exaggeration, but not too short of the truth.

Looking up at the other, unable to keep himself from matching Arthur's smile, Cash snorted a laugh. "Back in the day it meant makin' lots of little Roman babies and tendin' to the house when the strappin' Roman husband was off at war." It had been a long time since he'd last properly studied history, but even so Cash knew it wasn't that simple. It never was, when it came to conquering armies.

But he did quite like the idea of it, Arthur playing homemaker for them.

Taking Arthur's hands in his own, Cash turned them over; smoothed the soft surface of them with his own callused thumbs. "Hands like these certainly seem more fit for bon-bons than anything else," he teased, for all that some of the soft humor of it all soured the more he thought on it all. It was all well and good to make declarations when he was balls deep in the valet's wonderful ass. It was another to be faced with the reality of the world in which they actually lived.

[Arthur Beckwith]

Something about the moment had shifted, and Arthur couldn't fathom what had caused it. They had been jubilant, laughing — He'd felt fairly dizzy with it, with finding himself so thoroughly besotted — but Cash's demeanor had grown more solemn, sadder, despite that he was still smiling.

"Cash," Arthur said, and ignored a cold stab of fear as he ducked his head to catch the American's eye, his own pinched with concern. "Cassius. What is it?"

The chill hit him for the first proper time since they'd undressed, and he shivered, gooseflesh racing across his bare skin. Arthur swallowed against a lump in his throat. This was all right. It was all going to be perfectly all right. This was not the sort of man who said a thing and then took it back after he came.

[Cassius Boone]

Lost in his own thoughts, brief though it was, the American was left further off-kilter by Arthur's concern. He hadn't wanted to ruin the moment with his hesitations and regrets, but it seemed that it had happened regardless.

It wouldn't be such a sin to brush it off, he knew; would hardly be the first time anyone had lied about what was on their mind. But Cash was an honest man, and he didn't much care to see Arthur that upset. Brushing the concerns aside wouldn't fix that; only the truth would, for all that it still sat poorly in his mind and in his heart.

"I've been married," he admitted, almost absently lifting his hands to Arthur's arms, chafing them as though it was merely cold that had raised the gooseflesh. "Long time ago. My wife passed, it ain't about that." It was a quick dismissal of the new concerns that might be raised; the idea that he wasn't entirely Arthur's. "I just mean I know what it's supposed to be like. I know what kinda life you should have. I also know that I ain't gonna be able to give you what you deserve, not without bein' real careful."

And that was the crux of it, of course; what he thought Arthur deserved, a world inhospitable to their love, and Cash's struggle to reconcile them both. Allowing his hands to trace back down to the valet's hands, he pulled him to his lips, to kiss the backs of them one after the other. "I didn't mean to ruin your good mood, you sweet thing."

[Arthur Beckwith]

The anxious twist of Arthur's stomach hadn't been anything he might have helped, but he felt bad about it nonetheless once Cash had elucidated on what was troubling him. Brow pinched, Arthur listened, and his heart seemed to seize in his chest at almost the same moment the worried knot in his stomach unclenched.

"No," he insisted with a shake of his head, his pale eyes, shadowed in the lamplight, watching as Cash's lips brushed over his knuckles. "You haven't." He uncurled the fingers of one hand to cradle the American's chin, and then shifted back to sit up.

"Where've you put the other blankets?" he asked as he squinted into the gloom, the wind beginning to whip hard about the eaves. "Let's open the wine and chocolates. I think we might need both if we're going to have this particular conversation."

There was so much about one another they had never shared. It was fully possible, Arthur believed, to fall in love with a person from simply witnessing their heart. But if they both meant it, if they hoped for this to continue on, there was to be no getting around the past.

[Cassius Boone]

Arthur could deny it, but Cash wasn't blind. He wouldn't belabor the point, wouldn't sit here mentally flagellating himself for it, but it was a misstep, and one he wasn't eager to repeat. Still, he smiled, stowed away the sorrow and the bitterness at the world the lived within, and allowed Arthur to direct the conversation elsewhere.

"I'll grab 'em. Didn't think it'd get this cold," he admitted with a sheepish grin, even as he stole a quick kiss before carefully depositing the valet on the blanket and stepping quickly, bare ass naked, to retrieve the stack of blankets from where he'd set them hours ago. Cash also took the opportunity to snag his own gifts, wrapped clumsily and ugly in comparison to Arthur's. The sight of them was a sorry thing, but Cash resigned himself to plenty of that. He had his own talents, sure, but Arthur's loaned themselves much better to pretty things.

Belatedly, after he'd taken a step back to their little nest, he also thought to retrieve a handkerchief from his clothes. The slick mess on his cock had already fairly dried, and he did like the idea of Arthur leaking his come, but that didn't make for a comfortable night together, not when it was this chilly.

Setting the gifts aside for the moment, he handed Arthur a folded blanket but instructed, "Let me clean you up first, cher." He'd buy a plug as soon as they were back in London, Cash promised himself (his cock twitching at the places his mind went with the idea of it). He didn't think Arthur would protest that idea too terribly much.