Work Text:
Arthur liked the town plenty enough. He didn’t get to come that often because his work at the ranch kept him occupied, but when he did get to come, he made sure to enjoy it as much as possible.
It was also the closest to civilization he felt, and truth be told he missed it.
With the whole situation going on with Charles, connecting with civilization, for Arthur at least, was like he was back home and that brought a sense of serenity that he didn’t know he could feel while being so far away from his actual home.
It had been a little less than a week since his arrangement with Charles and while Arthur’s lower body had never felt so sated, his upper part—way up in his head—had never felt so empty.
Sometimes he’d laid in bed thinking where he went wrong. He knew their current relationship worked.
It worked by keeping Charles close to him, by sating him enough that he forgot they were nothing more than friends with benefits. By keeping Arthur sane as he tried to navigate his new life, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.
It hurt to have Charles so close. To be nothing more than friends with benefits. To remind him that was his new life. It was a double-edged sword that he refused to let go no matter how much it made him bleed.
So, coming to town, or to the park on that particular evening, helped him to escape the reality he had created for himself and made him appreciate the little things around him that he didn’t get to enjoy by being in his own head.
Things like the shade of the tree he had on his back or like seeing John running behind Abigail playing or seeing Tilly’s sunflower dress flowing in the wind as she carried, somehow 4 cones of ice cream, one for each of them.
“What are you drawing?” she asked handing him the cone and sitting down next to him after giving the others to John and Abigail.
“A dog,” he replied, showing her the drawing of the dog by the bench in front of them, leash leading to his owner talking on the phone.
“What type of dog is it?”
“Brown,” he said and laughed as she rolled her eyes and got up, “where are you going?”
She didn’t answer, instead, Arthur watched horrified as she sat right next to the stranger with the dog. A dark man with an old-fashioned style that just worked on him. It was the type of man Tilly would definitely go for, even if his black hair and brown skin were almost the same as Charles’.
He laughed, always in his mind, and then looked at the drawing. It was a big dog, pink tongue lolling out under the summer sun, hair shaggy and brown but well taken care of.
He thought of Charles, again. Big, dark, docile-looking, and as he saw it licking Tilly’s face as his owner kept the leash loose on his fist, he guessed kind, too.
It made him start a new sketch with Tilly, the man, and the dog. Then another one as Tilly hadn’t come back; the dog laying on the pavement of the path around the park, nose between his paws, and then another one of the dog standing, a thick brown leather collar around his throat.
Looking at it made him black out for a second as a picture came to mind—Charles supine on Arthur’s bed, wearing nothing but a collar around his throat, blush spreading through his cheeks and ears and nose, thighs shaking with lust and cock weeping on his stomach as he stared at Arthur and begged him to sit on him, his face, or his c—
“It’s a Newfoundland dog,” Tilly said running back towards him, pulling him out of his fantasies—making him imagine himself kicking and screaming to keep himself in that reality instead of the one he was in.
“What?” he said smartly.
“The dog,” she pointed at Arthur’s sketchbook with her mouth, “the breed is Newfoundland.” He nodded absentmindedly and tried to lose himself in the fantasy again while he continued drawing, this time only the collar.
“Arthur!” John pulled him out, too and he exhaled exasperated, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back now.
“Yes, yes! What is it?”
::
By the time he made it home, the idea was still in his head. Late at night, it had his cock rock hard and for a moment he considered knocking on Charles’ door but decided not to as he plopped on his bed and opened his phone’s browser.
It wasn’t until his fifth search, with a myriad of not-so-safe-for-work words, that he finally found what he was looking for and after a few questionable purchases that he hoped Hosea wouldn’t see in his credit card bill, he felt satisfied enough to finally go to sleep.
The next day he woke up with an email that told him his package had been sent and it was enough to put an extra pep into his steps.
“Someone’s happy today,” Mary told him sitting next to him behind the front desk.
“I think I’m about to have some fun,” he replied before he could think about it.
“The sexy kind?” she raised an eyebrow and Arthur smiled showing her the invoice of his late-night purchase.
She went beet red and grabbed her phone at once, Arthur questioned her but she didn’t have to say anything as soon as Arthur saw Tilly making her way towards them.
“You dirty… dog!” she laughed, and Arthur couldn’t help but do the same, making Mary laugh, too.
Even if he was being put to work at the front desk in some sort of twisted punishment from Charles, he was glad for it, not only because he managed to reconnect with Tilly but also because he got to know and befriend Mary for real.
“When is it getting here?” Tilly asked eagerly, reading, and rereading the specifications in Arthur’s phone and then following the link to see more.
“The day after tomorrow,” he snatched his phone from Tilly before she got more curious.
“Is it…?” Tilly looked at Mary and then at him, “Is it the same one as the dog from yesterday?”
“No!” Mary said, mouth and eyes wide open even if she wasn’t there with them.
“It’s…” he blushed, “it's for humans!”
They all laughed until Javier dropped his palm heavily on the counter.
“Girls,” he gave them a sweet smile that screamed nothing but ‘danger,’ “and Mary.”
Mary looked offended at him, “Am I not a girl?”
Arthur looked the same as her, “Am I a girl?”
Javier laughed and flicked Arthur’s forehead with his pointer finger, the same way Arthur did to John.
“You are a lady,” he bowed at Mary.
“I think he just offended us all, “ Tilly said at the same time that Javier looked at her, “but I wouldn’t know because I’m not supposed to be here,” and she left.
“We’re celebrating Karen’s birthday on Wednesday,” Javier told them both after Tilly left, “make sure to change whatever we have for Thursday morning to later or to a different day if possible.”
It was like pieces of a puzzle falling into place for Arthur. The day of the arrival of his little surprise, the party that could give them enough time to use it and not have to wake up early the next day? Well…
Hours later, Mary brought up the topic again, “are you going to like—” she attended a call before continuing while he worked on reassigning tours and visits, “…like engrave it with something?”
“A dog tag?” he asked, Excel spreadsheet forgotten. He thought about it, long and hard.
“I think it’d be funny,” she giggled. Mary Linton, the lady. “I know a name he hates to be called,” she continued. Mary fucking Linton.
::
The day he had to pick up his parcel, Javier also needed to go downtown, which ended up being one of his life's most uncomfortable car rides.
“How’s everything going?” Javier asked him, not even 5 seconds into their trip. He wished he’d brought John.
“It’s going,” he said absentmindedly, getting the stylus out of his phone and doodling on it.
“It’s not so bad, right?” Javier continued, “work in the ranch I mean. Once you get used to it.”
“Yeah…” he muttered, he’d talked about the same with Hosea the night before, and then Hosea had put Dutch on the phone and then he talked the same with him.
He wondered why they sent him there if they were just going to be all annoying about his day-to-day life as if he didn’t already pretty much was involved in every single meeting with them and with Javier and Charles.
That continued for the whole trip, Javier drilling him with questions while Arthur tried to ignore him to no avail. He loved Javier, he truly did, he’d grown with him at the ranch, but the man could be overbearing and for someone like Arthur, used to so much independence, it was a little too much.
And then… he started with the topic.
“How’s everything going with Charles?”
Arthur groaned, unembarrassed and unapologetic. Charles, Charles, Charles, always him. Every day it was Charles everywhere and when he wasn’t around, someone always had to mention him, during calls with providers, visits from government agents, his parents in every call… everything always revolved around Charles—even when he was with Mac.
His relationship with Mac had gotten also complicated, even after Mac had said he wanted the complete opposite, telling him he was just curious about what it was like to be with another man, and because Charles hated Mac, it was no brainer to say yes. The problem was that even when he was with Mac, it was always about Charles. The man asking him about it, Arthur picturing Charles fucking him instead of Mac, and of course Mac’s comments along the lines of ‘Does he fuck you like this?’ and other filth he didn’t even want to think about.
“Charles thinks you have potential, you know?” Javier continued unperturbed. Arthur didn’t feel like telling him that if that were true, he wouldn’t have him grounded at the front desk instead of hands in with them. “He really—”
“I’ll get off here,” he interrupted Javier as soon as he saw the post office, barely giving him time to stop the truck before he opened the door.
“I’ll be at city hall,” Javier called but Arthur was far gone already, barely hearing the end of it, after all, he had another trip to make besides the one to the post office.
::
By the time he managed to finish his tasks for the day and walked to the restaurant, the party was already in full swing. Karen, the main protagonist, was already drunk off her ass with a very distressed Tilly taking another bottle from her, and Mary who had finished with her work at least two hours before him, was hiding the rest of the bottles close to Karen.
It wasn’t lost on him that the other person missing from the party was Charles. Nothing was ever lost on him when it came to Charles, but for once he was worried about it because if Charles wasn’t there, then he would not be able to partake in the surprise he had for them in his room.
They had moved the 4-person tables to some corners of the restaurant for eating and put the chairs of the longer tables in different parts of the place, leaving space for people who wanted to dance in the middle of the place. Mac was sitting in one of those spare chairs and as soon as he saw Arthur, he’d raise his hand enough for Arthur to go to him.
He’d wanted to sit with Tilly and Mary but because they were both busy with taking care of the birthday girl, Arthur had no choice but to make a beeline for Mac.
“Hey,” Mac said, grabbing his hand at once. He seemed to be intoxicated already.
“Hey, you,” Arthur replied absentmindedly, looking around for the dark brooding man he wanted to fuck to oblivion.
“Looking for someone?” Mac asked him and when Arthur tried to sit next to him, Mac pulled him into his lap—right in front of the rest of the staff, the permanent and the temp alike. “Sit here with papa.”
Arthur physically gagged which made Mac laugh and in turn made him laugh, too. “There’s a chair right here,” Arthur told Mac, pointing at the chair next to them on the left side, his brother sitting on the one on the right, looking at them with face green in disgust.
“I want you right here,” Mac told him simply and Arthur complied.
The thing about being with both Mac and Charles was that while they both satisfied him, it was in a different way.
Charles was the one he wanted to be with, the one who filled him with love, with a calmness that he didn’t know he’d ever wanted, with longing for more that he didn’t know he needed but also with shame for being together.
There was no shame in Mac, he’d said he didn’t like men, but that didn’t stop him from showing the world that he was not embarrassed to be seen with Arthur, to bring him food at the front desk, to walk him to the house when he had lunch at the restaurant, to kiss him on the cheek when they were together, to sheepishly hold his hand just because, to sit him on his lap in a party with the staff and to call one of the waiters they had hired along with the catering service to bring them both a drink as they talked.
Arthur thought that if it weren’t for Charles and because Mac didn’t want anything more than what they had, Arthur would have no trouble in pursuing him for real—but as things were, it only conflicted his feelings more for Mac to be so open with him.
“Hey, amigo!” Javier called behind them, making Arthur look towards the door, only to see Charles walking inside. He’d changed, Arthur noticed. From a pair of work jeans to a different pair of jeans, he was wearing a red plaid button-down.
Charles waved at Javier and as soon as he was close enough, his eyes immediately circled to Mac’s hand on Arthur’s waist, and Mac, noticing Charles’ sight just as fast, started moving his hand up and down Arthur’s flank, going as far as to go all the way down to his inner thigh to touch it gently, sometimes squeezing it too, making Arthur squirm a little because all the three of them knew how sensitive his thighs were.
The whole night went like that, neither Mac nor Charles ever left him out of their sight.
Whenever he’d get up to get something more to eat or drink, Charles would approach him as soon as he left Mac’s side, asking him work-related stuff that Arthur knew were just excuses to talk to him, and while part of him felt annoyed at it, the other one preened under the attention. He regretted not changing into something better, though. His work clothes didn’t allow him to act as free as he wanted, though it also didn’t stop Charles from looking at him as if he were naked.
And then, whenever he’d go back to sit, Mac would pull him into his lap, would even put his drink down on the table behind them, and taking Arthur’s plate from him, he’d feed him spoonfuls of it, same with his drink. He also preened under that attention—especially the one he got every time he moved and felt Mac’s cock poking his ass, even more so because one of his little exhales of surprise had gotten Charles’ attention, too. The way his eyes looked down to where he was connected to Mac, told Arthur that he knew the reason for Arthur’s surprise.
“You want to give him a show?” Mac said into his ear, feeding him the last of the chocolate ice cream he’d gotten for the both of them, seeing as all his food was going half to Mac, leaving him hungry still.
“What kind?” he asked back. Most people were already too drunk to see what they were doing or to care about it anyway and Arthur had never been above a little faux voyeurism—had even partaken in it.
Charles sat in front of them again, the same plastic cup he’d been carrying all night in his hand.
“Nothing much,” Mac continued, giving him open-mouthed kisses on the neck and shoulders, his left hand back on his waist while the right one snaked his way under his shirt, touching his abs, wandering lower and then going up, almost to his nipples.
“Mac,” Arthur warned as he felt his face redden, his blood rushing south, “you’re gonna get us in trouble.”
“Is he looking?” Mac asked instead and bit the junction between his shoulder and neck, making Arthur whimper softly. “Is he?”
Arthur looked up at Charles in front of them, the plastic cup beyond destroyed clenched into a fist, remnants of the liquid dripping down his knuckles all the way to the floor in between Charles’ spread legs.
Arthur’s cock filled up instantly at the sight, leaving him dizzy and without thinking about it, he tilted his head to the side and looked towards the direction of the house.
Charles, on his part, had stilled. His face, the embodiment of possessiveness and anger before, had gone completely lax and as if in slow motion, he nodded.
Arthur smiled or maybe he smirked and turned to the side, this time being the one to whisper something into Mac’s ear.
“I think I’m gonna head out,” he told him and didn’t give time for Mac to reply when he kissed his cheek and jumped off his lap, barely looking at Charles as he left.
The first thing he did was check on John who was having a “sleepover” at Javier’s house with Abby while Mary-Beth took care of them.
Because several people of the staff lived in the house, Arthur had asked Javier for his house for them to stay at so the others didn’t bother them when they stumbled drunk into the house, Javier had agreed but Arthur got the feeling he knew there was something behind Arthur’s plans, he was right of course.
When Mary-Beth texted back that they were asleep already, he focused his attention on what he’d been planning for the past week, and going up the stairs two at a time, he got comfortable and ready and waited for Charles.
When he finally managed to untangle himself from the party, he went up the stairs faster than ever, cock already half-filled with blood, the same one that pounded in his ears.
Arthur’s “signal” had been a welcomed one. Not only because it always was, despite what it entailed for Charles, the pain and longing that stayed with him for days, never leaving his side, but also because he was tired of the party.
He loved his staff, he truly did but he could only be so much with them before he got tired… it also didn’t help the fact that he’d sat in front of Arthur while he was on Mac Callander’s fucking lap as the asshole moved his hand up and down Arthur’s thigh, while he held a drink with the other as if Arthur belonged to him.
Arthur didn’t belong to anyone.
The only good thing he got from the whole ordeal was Arthur only having eyes for him.
Ever since he first got “together ” with Arthur, he’d come to realize a lot of things about himself and the possessiveness he felt as he saw Arthur sitting on a lap that wasn’t his, but still only had eyes for Charles, it did dark things to his mind, turned feelings into actions as he waited with a bathed breath as Arthur gave him that look and then cocked his head to the side in question.
He had to calm himself before he nodded—and then had to do it again as Arthur turned to the side to murmur something in Mac’s ear before giving him a peck on the cheek and got up and left.
Charles counted to a hundred before he got up and left, too. He could feel all their eyes on him, especially Mac’s, but he didn’t care, the only thing he wanted was to be with Arthur, to pretend like they were a happy couple in love with each other instead of just barely friends with benefits.
He knocked on Arthur’s door and when there was no answer, he opened it to find the room empty—Arthur’s bed neatly made and a dog collar on top of it.
The way his jaw dropped would’ve been funny for anyone and he was glad he was alone.
It wasn’t like Arthur never gave him the impression that he liked that sort of stuff, especially with how much he liked to control Charles, tell him how hard and how deep he wanted him, but to go as far as to buy something like a collar? And worst yet, a collar with a dog tag that, of all names, said “Charlie.”
He grabbed it, anyway, closing the door behind him. It was heavy, thick, and leather-made. The clasps and the tag looked like stainless steel, with letters painted black, while the leather was a natural brown.
He stared at it for longer than necessary, weighting it with one hand, and with the other, he felt the material, the sturdiness of it.
He could almost feel how many zeros it had to cost when he put it around his throat, just to feel it against his neck. It immediately rushed the rest of his blood to his half-hard cock, now filled.
He sat on the bed with the collar in his hands. He knew Arthur would never force him to do something he didn’t want. They couldn’t talk about their feelings, but they had talked long and extendedly about what the other was willing to do in bed and assured themselves that they could opt out whenever.
He sighed, once, twice, and three times for good measure, and making sure there was no one in the hall outside, he stood in front of his closed door and put the collar on easily, already used to clasping and unclasping things, an occupational hazard, but his hands still trembled and shook as he passed the excess of the collar through the last loop of two.
He knocked on his door with it sliding open on his own by the force he used, which was barely any, which meant Arthur was waiting for him inside.
He opened the door the rest of the way and was greeted with a sight he’d never be tired of seeing. Arthur on his bed, legs slightly opened as he sat with his back to the headboard.
He was still wearing the same clothes, the only difference being his bare feet and that he had the first few buttons of his moss-green dress shirt undone, the coarse brown hair lit by the moonlight that filtered through Charles’ only window as he moved and the same with his black dress pants, buttons undone.
“Good boy,” was the first thing Arthur said to him with a smirk that almost made Charles double over with lust.
He moved from the head of the bed to the edge of it, feet firmly planted on the wooden floor as he looked down the spot between his legs and it took literal seconds for Charles to walk and stand between them.
“Kneel, boy,” Arthur whispered, and Charles went down like an over-eager puppy, knees hurting from impact, but he couldn’t care less as Arthur looked down at him. “Good boy,” he said again, and Charles could feel himself heat up with the embarrassment of his eagerness. But when it came to Arthur… well.
He looked down, finally noticing Arthur straining in his pants, a wet spot barely visible because of the color of the slacks, he looked higher and didn’t see the waistband of underwear and instantly understood the wet spot.
Arthur moved his right hand to his head, caressing his hair from the top of his head to the end of his braid, and then undid it carefully.
“Such pretty hair,” he whispered as if talking to himself. Charles who had not uttered a single word since he told Javier he was tapping out for the night, remained silent, drinking in the view in front of him and the situation, “so silky and black.”
Charles looked at him finally, their eyes meeting in a heated embrace, the only kind they allowed themselves to have.
“I wonder how much it means to you,” Arthur said in a combination of cruelty and wonder and then pulled, eliciting a grunt from Charles. “Strip.”
Charles obeyed at once. The shaking of his hands made it hard to unbutton his shirt, thinking that maybe he should’ve used a normal one.
He looked up to apologize about it and found Arthur smirking, which only made him harder as if it were possible.
“Nervous?” he raised an eyebrow and before Charles could reply, Arthur moved his barefoot from the floor and placed it on Charles, very obvious erection.
“You make me nervous,” he managed to exhale, voice scratchy with disuse.
“And why is that?” Arthur pressed—with the question and with his foot making Charles grunt. “Hm? Why is that?”
He fisted his hands, breathed in and out, and got up to take his jeans off, but before he could, Arthur stood up with him, their faces inches apart; the need to kiss him was overwhelming for Charles, making his resolve waver but he pulled through and looked down.
“Are you a bad dog, Charlie?” Arthur asked him and it sent a shiver down Charles’ spine. Any other day he’d hate the nickname, had snapped at someone for it but coming from Arthur and adding to that the petulant tone he used, it crossed the wires in Charles’ brain.
He kneeled again, looking up and up and up to Arthur still smirking watching Charles falling over himself to please him.
“May I please get up?” he braved, and Arthur’s smirk morphed into a smile as he sat back down, crotch-to-eye with Charles again.
“Stand and stay,” he replied, and Charles did, body slightly trembling as Arthur looked him up and down, lingering on his stomach, one of the parts of him Arthur seemed to love the most.
“Are you going to be a good dog from now on?” Arthur asked him, hands reaching for Charles’ tight jeans. He nodded, of course he did, but Arthur still retreated his hands, “I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” he choked out.
“Yes, what?”
“I’ll be a good… dog.”
Arthur smiled—he smiled so wide and big that his eyes closed a little. “That’s a good boy,” he said and unbuttoned Charles’ jeans, finally. He shuddered as Arthur’s knuckles tickled his trail of hair and then shuddered again when he felt Arthur blow hot wind through it. “Good dogs get rewards you know?”
Charles nodded, face heating up, hands itching to touch Arthur’s hair and rake his nails through his beard.
Arthur kissed his lower stomach and Charles almost passed out, his cock painfully hard and weeping in his underwear, he could feel the wet spot forming inside them, no doubt would be very visible as soon as Arthur took them off.
“You want a reward, Charlie?”
He nodded again, never mind the stupid name, though he did want it to kiss it out of Arthur’s mouth, maybe fuck it out, too.
“Say it.”
“I w-want a… reward,” he stuttered embarrassed which went away as soon as Arthur finally lowered his jeans, taking his underwear along and almost hitting himself on the face when Charles’ cock sprang out.
“Big boy,” Arthur said as if he hadn’t seen his dick countless times already, and before Charles could prepare himself, Arthur swallowed half of it in one go, his hand holding what he couldn’t fit in his mouth.
“F-fuck,” he moaned, hands flailing, not knowing where to put them as Arthur choked on his dick because of the movement, “I’m sorry.”
He looked down, only to find Arthur already looking up at him, somehow finding a way to smirk around his cock, eyes almost black, the pupil having swallowed everything around it, bobbing his head as if his life depended on it.
It didn’t take Arthur that long to have Charles clenching and unclenching his hand on his sides before he felt the tale tell of his orgasm in his lower belly and Arthur, knowing his body as well or even better than Charles, decided to stop at that moment.
He let go with a loud pop as Charles was still trying to get his bearings and then dragged himself towards the head of the bed, leaving Charles with his underwear stuck above his knees and his pants around his ankles.
“Are you hungry, boy?” Arthur asked him and Charles swallowed thickly and nodded but then remembered what Arthur had said.
“Yes,” he corrected and saw mesmerized as Arthur smiled, little drops of drool and probably of precum on his beard shining in the moonlight.
“Come,” he demanded, and Charles got on the bed in less than half a second, dog tag jingling in the collar as it moved against the different metallic parts.
He stopped in front of Arthur and waited patiently for him to open his legs before moving to sit on his haunches with his knees to the bed in between Arthur’s beautiful thighs.
“Did you like your present?” Arthur asked him, pointer finger hooking between the collar and his skin, “I think it suits you.”
Charles nodded and Arthur tugged rather hard, almost making him stumble onto him.
“Yes,” Charles finally said, words, talking, he was having a hard time producing any coherent sounds from his throat.
Arthur looked at him, and for just a second Charles was afraid of what he saw there. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was but it looked like a lot more than just lust, though it was gone as soon as it came.
“M-may I?” he asked, hands trembling above Arthur’s pants, and Arthur, always looking to get a reaction out of him, made him wait before he nodded, smirk still high on his face, it seemed to be his favorite expression for the night.
He lowered the zipper with great difficulty and almost wept in joy as the sticky mess let him see Arthur’s flushed cock.
It felt like an electric shock ran through his body as soon as he saw it and when his tongue connected to the base of the beautiful prick and slid up all the way to the head, making Arthur squirm and whimper in pleasure, Charles knew he was gone.
“Arthur,” he barely whispered as he looked up and without even needing to ask, Arthur nodded softly, smirk gone and something in Charles, the dam containing his lust just… broke.
Arthur’s dick wasn’t as thick and long as his, but it still was a mouthful as he swallowed it whole, the spare curls at the base of it tickling his nose.
“Ch-Charles!” Arthur moaned as his legs hooked on Charles’ shoulders, squeezing his head so hard it was making him dizzy but also not stopping him for even a second as he bobbed his head and swallowed and hollowed out his cheeks around Arthur.
The difference between them, when it came to sex, was that Arthur only wanted to see Charles squirm in desperation, whereas Charles wanted to see Arthur becoming undone under his touch.
Usually, both of them got what they wanted.
“You like that?” he asked, letting go with much effort, the roles reversing, though the dog tag still clattered loudly around his throat, a constant reminder of who really was in charge.
“Y-yes…” Arthur moaned and even like that, he still found it in himself to order him around, “M-more,” he whimpered, and Charles had already come to terms with the fact that when it came to Arthur he’d do whatever he said.
“More?” Charles repeated and took Arthur’s pants completely off. “What more?” he asked, following with his tongue a trail from the underside of Arthur’s cock to his entrance. “What more?” he asked again.
Arthur didn’t say anything, only whimpered softly, one of his hands holding for dear life to the pillow under his head while the other one was buried in Charles ‘ hair, strands falling from his braid.
The position was uncomfortable and already had him belly down on the bed, neck straining to keep his head upright to be able to bury his tongue in the tight heat that was Arthur, so at the first opportunity, he grabbed one of Arthur’s thighs on his shoulder and used it as leverage to turn him around, making Arthur squeal in surprise.
“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, looking back, and supporting half his body with his hands on the bed and his elbows bent but all complaints left his mouth as Charles grabbed him by the hips and hoisted his lower body up. “Are you…?”
Charles didn’t let him finish, shutting him up by spreading his ass and circling his entrance with his tongue, making Arthur scream and tighten up.
“G-good boy, good boy, good boy ” he started chanting and Charles wasn’t sure if he was even aware of it, but he couldn’t care less as he was too busy loosening up Arthur just enough to get his tongue properly inside him—which he did with almost no effort; Arthur, already soft and pliant for him which had Charles with his tongue deep inside him in no time, licking around his walls and sucking on his rim, playing Arthur like a musical instrument.
“F-fetch,” Arthur told him after a while, and Charles barely had time to separate from Arthur before he threw him something that Charles, out of pure instinct, caught with his hand. It was lube, of course.
Charles who wasn’t quite done with tasting Arthur, reluctantly opened the lube to spread it on his fingers warming it up, but before he started, he took the time to taste Arthur a little more even with his tongue tingling and cramping, but Arthur whimpering under him, chest to the bed and ass up in the air trying to get Charles’ tongue more and more inside him made him forget the discomfort.
“Ch-Charles,” Arthur said wantonly, and as always, Charles was weak.
The first finger went in easily, it always did. He didn’t know if it was an Arthur thing or an Arthur-because-of-Charles thing but it wasn’t like he was complaining, not when he added his tongue to the finger, one stretched and the other tasted.
“En-enough—” Arthur tried, his hand swatting back at Charles as if he were an annoying bug, “get on with it!”
Charles laughed without separating from Arthur, the vibrations making Arthur try to recoil from his touch, but Charles was having none of it, opting for using both his hands to hook around Arthur’s thighs and bury himself back into him.
“S-stop!” Arthur moaned and then, “bad dog,” and Charles stopped instantly.
“Too much?” he asked looking down and noticing Arthur’s weeping cock, and then up to his frowning eyebrows the anger ruined by pink nose and cheeks. “Okay,” he offered and got to work on stretching Arthur.
There were other sounds around the house, staff stumbling drunk, Karen screaming at Sean, Miss Grimshaw shutting them all up, but nothing could distract Charles from the man below him, moaning and grunting and mewling in pleasure as Charles pumped now four fingers into him, scissoring and curling them alike. Charles’ own cock hurt with arousal, an almost continuous stream pooling onto his sheets, a perfect copy of Arthur’s.
“Are you ready?” he asked Arthur who could barely nod as he buried his head in Charles’ pillow, now covered with drool and tears.
It was a sight to behold, and Charles wanted nothing more than to see it every day, but before he could say something he knew he’d regret, Charles withdrew his fingers, watching as Arthur dug his toes into the bed and his back arched beautifully, lifting him almost entirely off the mattress.
He bent over the bed to his nightstand and grabbed one of the condoms there—making a mental note to get more—and after putting it on, he stroked his cock, if only to slick it up with the leftover lube, and then lined himself up.
Charles knew this was Arthur’s favorite part. The sensation of being split open, he’d said it before and so Charles complied, circling his entrance before the rim all but sucked his tip in and then started sinking in painfully slow, though there was nothing more that he wanted than to ram his way in.
“F-fuck—” Arthur whimpered, and Charles stopped, letting him get used to the feeling of being so full.
It didn’t matter how many times a week or even a day they did it, it was still a workout for both of them to do this part, even with how desperate they usually were.
“You good?” he asked, something they had in common was to always check on the other, even if Arthur had done it in such an interesting manner before.
“Yeah… ye—just a second,” Arthur said, and Charles waited patiently, not even a hair out of place. “Good dog,” Arthur praised him. “Go on, now.”
He started slowly again, still careful of hurting Arthur, but it seemed that Arthur had something else in mind as he rammed his way back towards Charles, fucking himself on Charles’ cock.
“God—fucking, Arthur!” he grunted, hands no doubt leaving imprints on Arthur’s hips, but he was overstimulated already, and the movement had him seeing stars. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Move,” Arthur looked back, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lips with teeth marks, and a wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Move,” he ordered again, and Charles couldn’t help the sudden movement, which instead of shutting Arthur, made him scream.
“Like this?” he taunted, dog tag noise adding to the slapping of skin against skin.
“Yes, yes, yesyesyesyes,” Arthur repeated, words muted thanks to the pillow but that didn’t stop him. Neither did it stop Charles who was already gone in his lust, his need to make Arthur scream louder and make him come harder than anyone else.
“Ar—thur,” he said, eyes closed, and head thrown back. For the second time that day, he started to feel the signs of his impending orgasm.
“Alm-Almost there,” Arthur told him, probably knowing Charles’ signs of being done as much as he knew Arthur’s.
So, he pulled out. Basked in the whine that escaped Arthur, even making him shiver, but it wasn’t new for him to do that. They both knew that when it came to this, Charles liked, needed to see his face, have his body in full display.
Arthur on his part, plopped on the bed, barely having time to turn to the side to not fall on his face. Charles loved to see him like that. Hair in disarray, chest heaving with air that escaped his lungs, too much and never enough. Cock hard and leaking on his stomach and the bedsheets that Charles knew he’d have to change as soon as he knocked on his own door and it opened on its own.
The need to tell Arthur how beautiful he looked was overwhelming, but he was practiced in keeping it at bay.
“C’mere,” he told Arthur, voice rough, but before Arthur could move, Charles pulled him by the hips, earning him a yelp from Arthur, and then sat him on his thighs. The position was all too uncomfortable, but he knew how much Arthur liked it, too.
His legs were already burning with the straining, but he couldn’t care less and neither did Arthur when Charles entered him again, making him scramble back from the over-stimulation and he would’ve done it were it not for Charles who had a vice on his waist.
“Shush,” he bent over Arthur and whispered in his ear, “it’s okay.”
Arthur looked at him as he moved back, eyes hazy and drunk, cheeks and nose red, forehead beaded with sweat. He truly was beautiful.
“Move,” he told Charles clearly, one single word, a single demand that it didn’t matter what it was, Charles would turn the world upside down to do it.
So, he started again, entering Arthur slowly, even with the softness in him, but he didn’t care. The only thing he did care about at that moment was to see Arthur's expression, how his curved back on Charles would make his head bent back and would expose the column of his neck, the one Charles was not allowed to mark.
“Good dog,” Arthur whispered, one hand holding for dear life to Charles’ arm on his waist, the other one thrown back above his head.
He finally started moving, the position making everything a little difficult, but also it gave him better access to Arthur’s prostate, so he started moving faster, drilling into him so hard, that it moved Arthur’s whole frame, his head almost to the headboard now.
He was whispering something, though Charles couldn’t understand what, but it did sound like ‘good dog’ and ‘touch me’ and he preened in that, in being the one who had Arthur like that.
“Arthur,” he bent his body over Arthur’s again, opening his own legs for Arthur to fall in between them, and then grabbed his neglected cock. With how much it was leaking it looked like he’d come already, but the clear liquid said otherwise.
“Lik-like that, like that, like that, like that,” he continued muttering, his voice growing in volume until two words turned into one, and one word turned into a scream that had Charles drilling harder and harder into him when Arthur’s body convulsed as he came, the shivers making him tighten around Charles and in turn, that was all he needed as a grunt left his body at the same time that his orgasm broke loose.
His arm next to Arthur’s head gave in and he fell with a little “oof” on top of Arthur, their chests falling and rising with the workout, every part of their bodies connected.
None of them said anything for a while, neither did they move until Charles’ softening cock made them.
He pulled out carefully, but it still made Arthur wince.
“Sorry,” he said sitting on the edge of the bed and disposing of the condom. When he looked back, Arthur had the imprint of the collar on his chest, right where Charles had fallen.
“I can’t move,” Arthur replied, and Charles took the opportunity to clean Arthur up with the tissues he kept on his nightstand. The sweat on his body, along with the rest of the fluids on it. It wasn’t something Arthur allowed him usually.
“You good?” he asked, disposing of the tissues, too, and then tried to take the collar off.
“Keep it,” Arthur told him, and Charles obeyed, “good dog,” he laughed.
The silence permeated the room again and with as much distance as possible, Charles lay on the bed, too, and without being able to avoid it, he fell into deep sleep.
The next morning, he woke up with the sheets stuck to his body and alone.
Over a decade later into the future, his husband turns towards him on the bed.
“Remember that time I made you wear a dog collar?” he asks and the laugh that escapes Charles makes Arthur laugh, too.
“Of course, I do,” he replies, the memories coming to him as if it were yesterday.
“Y’know I think I still have it around here.”
Charles looks at him, really looks. A mischievous smile, a raised eyebrow, and eyes full of lust.
“I won’t get to sleep for the next couple of hours, right?” he asks, and Arthur’s laugh just goes wider.
“Good dog.”