Work Text:
Arthur feels as if he’s living in a dream. Not the unreality of the Dreamlands, or the twisted guilt-remorse soup cooked up by Scratch, but the nice sort of dream he never gets to have.
After coercing the information from the unfortunate Mr. Ward about the Order’s meeting in three weeks’ time, and concocting the scheme with the Butcher, Noel had suggested Arthur might do better to lay low at his apartment--keep as few innocents out of the line of fire, should Larson get antsy to take care of Arthur Lester himself.
Arthur thought he would be antsy, himself, to see Larson finished. Much to his surprise, it was John who advised caution and patience. And so, for the first time since he had opened John’s book, Arthur had a moment of respite. One might even say domestic bliss.
“Now, careful with the lid of the can, John,” Arthur reminds him. “Use a butter knife like I showed you.”
I know, Arthur, John grumbles, band-aid still around his finger from the last time he’d tried to pry open a lid after using a can opener.
“Need a hand in there?” Noel asks from his place at the modest dining table.
“No, I’m just about done,” Arthur replies. He’s not much of a cook, but it was the least he could do to repay Charlie’s hospitality. Even if they both got something out of the arrangement; certain services, rather than goods. “What time is it?”
“Three ‘till seven,” Noel replies. “Should be here soon.”
“Perfect,” Arthur murmurs. “Help me strain these beans, and we’ll throw them into that pan to heat up,” he says to John.
He’s just finishing up plating dinner for three when their third knocks on the door.
“Got it,” Noel says, newspaper rustling as he folds it back up. His chair scrapes and Arthur can follow his movement by his footsteps to the door. “Punctual as ever,” he says as he opens the door.
“Punctuality is akin to godliness,” a warm brogue responds.
“Thought that was cleanliness,” Noel says and steps aside to let Collins inside.
“Cleanliness or no depends on the price,” Collins says with a grin.
“Anyone follow you?” Noel asks, closing the door behind him.
“You wound me, detective,” Collins croons. “Ya think I’m that sloppy?”
Noel chuckles dryly. “Force of habit when dealin’ with deep cover operations.”
“I’m old hat at cloak and dagger, detective. Not to worry,” Collins promises. “Smells lovely, boyo,” he says sweetly as Arthur ferries plates to the table. “Home cooked meal and all. Y’ spoil me.”
Though Arthur is never foolish enough to ignore the dark omen ever lurking in the Butcher’s voice, he’d be lying if he denied its allure.
“It’s nothing, really,” he says modestly. “Our meetings just happen to be around dinner time. Might as well make them a little more palatable given the unpleasant git we have to talk about.”
Larson. Part of their arrangement in the interim time until the meeting involves the Butcher reporting on Larson’s movements, just in case anything comes up that they should be aware of.
“Great kindness for an adversary,” the Butcher’s melted butter voice comes from behind as he passes close enough to send a shiver down Arthur’s spine to get to the seat beside him. Charlie’s flat is on the small side, but it’s also sparsely furnished enough not to require too close quarters.
“W-well, we’re not adversaries anymore,” Arthur says, his mouth a little dry as he pulls out his chair. “Are we, Dennis?” He recovers with a sly familiarity, taking his seat.
Collins chuckles, warm and airy. “Not often I find myself in bed with a mark what was in my sights.”
In bed? John asks, a little taken aback.
Arthur chuckles, though his face warms a few degrees. “He means ‘working with,’ John,” he says quietly.
“Ah, did the little voice in your head think I meant taking ya to bed?” Collins says. Of course Arthur had come clean about his situation to lay all their cards on the table. Collins had rolled with the revelation that there was a fragment of something not of this world in his head remarkably well. “Afraid somebody beat me to the punch on that one, ey, John?”
What? John balks, surprised. He’s looking at Noel. How did he know…? Noel looks surprised, too. He’s looking at us. I think he’s trying to gauge how much to say. Are you going to tell him?
Arthur is just as surprised as the rest, and the worst at hiding it.
The Butcher chuckles and picks up his silverware, going on casual as anything. “I expected ya to be a better poker player, detective,” he teases Noel.
“Well,” Arthur lets out a breath. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag.”
Noel recovers and picks up his silverware, too, with a quiet sigh. “What gave it away?” He wonders with an arched brow.
“Nothin’ in particular,” Collins says and eats a bite of dinner with gusto. “Like sees like,” he all but purrs.
Arthur’s pulse skips a beat, a lance of adrenaline spiking through him. “So I wasn’t imagining it,” he says, a touch sly.
Imagining what? John asks.
“That I found more than just your skill in the game attractive?” Collins asks. “Would that your friend hadn’t left me loose ends to tie up. Could have made some truly beautiful music together in that boiler room, safe from pryin’ eyes behind a bolted door…”
A cold chill runs through Arthur. How did they get here? Butcher was supposed to be delivering a report on Larson’s activities--and here they are talking about Butcher’s fantasies.
“An… interesting form of torture,” Arthur says, clearing his throat.
“Might be a little less unpleasant given our arrangement now,” Noel says, casual as ever.
“Noel!” Arthur gasps, shocked but amused.
“What?” The detective says innocently. “Always thought your fascination with him was more than just… admiration.”
Noel is smirking at you, Arthur. Is it true? He tried to kill you! More than once! He hunted you!
“Yes, I know, John. I don’t exactly have the most innocent track record about what I’m attracted to,” Arthur snaps, flustered.
“What’s that say about me?” Noel asks.
“It was John who started that--” Arthur blurts out.
“So ya were-- attracted ,” Collins cuts in. “I could tell. Would’ve loved to’ve seen what ya would’ve offered to do for me to avoid hurtin’ ya. Or your passenger.”
Arthur flushes, and hates to admit he is currently getting a little turned on by all this frank talk and the sheer surprise that the Butcher’s honeyed words were more than just a sadistic cat toying with a mouse.
“Such interesting dinner conversation,” Arthur deflects, a little exasperated to find himself in the hot seat, getting teased from both sides.
“My apologies, boyo,” the Butcher purrs sweetly. “You’ve barely had a chance to touch your food.”
“He’s still workin’ on getting his appetite back,” Noel says. “For food, at least.”
“ Charlie, ” Arthur scolds, very nearly kicking him under the table as his cheeks approach a shade of beet red. But he can’t complain too much as both Noel’s dry chuckle and Collins’ rich one fill the air around him.
“I mean it as a compliment,” Noel insists, play-acting at innocence badly.
“I didn’t take you for the shy type, lad,” Collins murmurs.
He’s looking over at you, Arthur. Up and down, like he’s… sizing you up, or…
“Deciding where he’d like to start,” Arthur mutters under his breath before addressing Collins. “I’m not, it’s just--”
“The shame? ” Collins purrs like he has chocolate on his tongue. “Y’ do seem t’ relish in self-flagellation.”
“Ha,” Arthur breathes out through a smile. “In this particular area of myself, no.”
“I’d describe him, in this particular area,” Noel says around a bite of food, “as shame less .”
Well, guess they’re doing this. “Thanks, Noel,” Arthur says. “I think.”
“Don’t mention it,” the detective replies.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Collins says. “Men tend to fuck how they fight.”
The word fuck coming from the Butcher in this context pricks Arthur’s ears--and does something to his prick. Arthur can hear the grin of pleasure in his voice.
“And you’ve got an indomitable fire in you, boyo.”
“Careful, Butcher,” Noel says. “This guy’s got a hair trigger.”
“Noel,” Arthur grumbles, exasperated.
“Does he, now?” Collins asks with interest. “Question is-- is he a quick shot?”
Arthur’s face grows hot, but before he can speak up in his defense, John gets there first.
No, John growls petulantly. Tell him you go for a long time, now, Arthur!
“Thank you, I appreciate that, John, but this is-- you’re both incorrigible.” But Arthur’s pulse is racing. Collins and Dowd have ran with it this far. Are they past the point of no return? Arthur’s cock certainly hopes so. Fooling around with the Butcher seems… risky at best, and potentially lethal at worst. But the same could be said about their partnership, full stop.
“Ya didn’t answer the question, lad,” Collins insists with a voice that sounds like scotch tastes.
Arthur swallows, the food before him the last thing on his mind.
“Or should I ask the detective?” Collins asks, grinning in Noel’s direction. “Seems to have taken a shine to me.”
“I’d be an idiot not to see the chemistry,” Noel says. “And I know Arthur needs a nudge sometimes to allow himself to have what he wants.”
He has a point. I had to practically force you to proposition Noel, John chimes in.
“It could have gone very wrong, John,” Arthur reminds him.
But it didn’t, John says in an ‘I told you so’ sort of way.
“So, what-- you’re on board with this now?” Arthur asks John incredulously.
“Aye?” Collins asks with a hungry grin that Arthur can hear.
I mean… If it’s what you want, John offers.
What he wants. Noel’s not wrong that Arthur’s default is to deny himself on the basis of not being deserving of his desires, to the point that he hardly indulges in his fantasies beyond just that--the realm of fantasy. Where Butcher is concerned, it’s not so much a feeling of being undeserving as it is forbidden fruit.
The Butcher is turning to face you, John describes as Collins’ chair creaks. His arm propped up on the back of the chair, cold clear eyes looking at you with… interest. His smile is deceptively warm, but there’s an undeniable hunger lurking there.
“Hope you’re givin’ me a charitable description, John,” Collins says.
A tiny gasp escapes John, still new to being acknowledged--much less being seen so transparently.
“See your eyes movin’ over me,” he explains. “Hope they like what they see.”
It’s Arthur’s turn to grin a little. “They do,” he answers for John.
“Did he mention the hungry eyes?” Noel teases. “Looks like he wants to have you for dessert.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Collins says.
He’s reaching for you-- Before John can fully warn Arthur, Collins grabs his chair and yanks him a clean ninety degrees away from the table, silverware clattering as Arthur sucks in a breath of surprise.
“Would you look at that,” Collins says. “You are rarin’ t’ go.”
Arthur’s muscles tense as Collin’s broad palm finds his thigh, squeezes and reminds him of the last time he’d felt the man’s hands on him--wrapped around his throat.
“Easy, lad,” he murmurs, chair creaking as he leans in. “I won’t bite. Just want a taste. ”
Arthur swallows, clears his throat to cover the moan that nearly comes out as his cock properly aches to hear that. “Surprised me is all,” he says. The Butcher surprises him again as he gropes his cock through his trousers, and this time he can’t disguise the groan that leaves his lips, or how his hips grind forward into his calloused palm.
“John, are ya sleepin’ on the job?” Collins teases, palm grinding Arthur’s cock as his fingers delve lower, invading further between Arthur’s legs and under his balls. He’s rewarded with a delicious squirm that has Arthur gripping the edge of the table for support.
No, I-- John is a little caught off guard.
“He’s had practice, eh? Not th’ first time your passenger’s watched while you’ve gotten your cock sucked,” Collins supposes.
“No,” Arthur grunts, face hot as Collins keeps working over his cock and rubbing his rough fingers deeper along his inseam. “Doesn’t exactly have to describe everything I can feel.” His breath is already getting shorter.
“C’mere, stand up,” Collins says, using his free hand to tug on Arthur’s belt loop. “Save a man’s knees, there’s a good lad.”
Arthur gets to his feet, light-headed with all the blood centered around his cock. Ready for relief and past the point of hesitation, he immediately starts tugging his belt open, quick with his fly, too.
“Give the detective a show,” Collins adds.
He’s eagerly awaiting your cock, John reports. Licking his lips, his mouth practically watering.
Arthur grunts with relief as Collins grabs the waistband of his boxers and pulls them out of the way, finally freeing his cock. Collins grabs his cock shamelessly, not wasting time, and gives him a squeeze that makes him sigh.
“Good lookin’ piece on you,” Collins compliments him, earning a louder groan as he not only pumps his shaft but plays with his sack, too.
“Describe him to me, John,” Arthur says, angling his head to make sure he can take it all in.
What he looks like?
“Yes,” Arthur breathes.
He’s smiling expectantly up at you--at- at me, John swallows. Though he wanted nothing more than to feel more present, to be acknowledged, the feeling of being seen is more intense than he anticipated. His hands are large… Everything about him is big, sturdy. His shoulders are broad and rounded into strong arms, forearms exposed by his rolled sleeves. He’s dressed simply, nothing about him stands out. An uncollared working shirt, suspenders, plain but worn trousers. He has a cap on his head above his graying hair, but he doesn’t look old. He looks… vital.
“What’s he say?” Collins asks and runs his tongue along his teeth in anticipation.
Arthur grins. “He says you look vital. ”
“Ohh, good word, John,” Collins purrs. “Like that. Vital. ”
Arthur gasps as Collins spits and a hot glob lands on his even hotter flesh, groaning as it gets smeared over the head of his cock.
“Takin’ pleasure in my manner of business keeps me young,” he says with a wink only John sees. “And takin’ time for pleasure for pleasure’s sake don’t hurt, neither.” With that, he finally dines on his treat.
Arthur’s breath is stolen by the enveloping heat of the Butcher’s mouth. He takes to his task with gusto, sucking firm and swirling his tongue around the head of Arthur’s cock. His grip is still tight on Arthur’s shaft, pulsing in tempo with his mouth. He takes him deeper into his mouth in fluid strides, almost like a fluid melody over the steady time signature, hand and mouth in perfect concert.
Soft moans spill from Arthur’s lips around his heated breath, and he reaches out blindly with one hand to find his shoulder. He traces along the simple, slightly textured fabric, feels that strong, rounded shoulder, and follows it toward his neck.
There’s something almost hypnotic about how perfectly in time Collins’ lips and mouth and tongue move, and Arthur finds his hips rocking slightly into it, the tempo of his breathing falling into it.
Apparently, that’s what Collins wants, his hand moving from Arthur’s cock to latch onto his bare ass, kneading and encouraging his hips to move. Arthur moans and his grip on the side of the Butcher’s neck tightens a little. That earns him a reedy, muffled moan that vibrates around his cock.
He’s taking you down almost to the root, Arthur, John rumbles. He’s looking up at you with an almost… challenging gleam in his eyes…
Arthur wishes he could see it, but he can imagine it. His imagination has become quite vivid since losing his eyesight, conjuring faces and expression from tone of voice alone.
“Challenging, hm?” He breathes, a grin pulling at his lips. He grips Collins’ neck with more intent, his thumb resting against his bobbing adam’s apple hard at work, and bucks his hips forward.
Collins chokes and his fingers dig into Arthur’s ass, but he doesn’t stop. He only groans hungrily, egging Arthur on.
“Hold his head, John,” Arthur whispers.
Yes, Arthur, John purrs and moves his hand into action. He carelessly knocks the Butcher’s hat away and holds the back of his head, fingers gripping against his short, gray hair. Fuck his mouth, he urges Arthur. Take control.
Arthur’s grip tightens even more, and this time he doesn’t just buck forward, but draws his hips back to get a good thrust. A groan of satisfaction growls from his throat as he starts to fuck the Butcher’s willing one.
“Nngh, your mouth is good for more than just singing, eh, Butcher?” Arthur’s adrenaline races, feeling so powerful with this merciless killer at his mercy. He lets loose, knows Collins can take it, that he might thank him for using his mouth so roughly.
Collins’ teeth, while mercifully away from the hard flesh using his mouth, knock against Arthur’s pelvis with every thrust. He’s careless of the lurid choking and wet noise coming from him, a different kind of carnal music to his ears. He grips Arthur’s skinny ass tight, relishing in seeing the beast come out in Arthur Lester.
He’s got one hand between his own legs, gripping a bulge in his trousers, John reports. He’s loving this, he growls hungrily. Fuck his mouth faster, Arthur.
Arthur’s breathing heavy now, his orgasm mounting, sweating under his clothes, but this is just too good. “Don’t rush it, John,” he says. “Let Collins enjoy his treat. ” He punctuates his words with one powerful thrust that he holds Collin down on, groaning low to feel his throat tight around his cock, swallowing and working without air.
“What’s Noel doing?” Arthur asks, play-acting casual, and turns his head so John can see.
He’s just sitting there, John says, excited and riled up. He looks as unaffected as ever, he notes fondly.
“Just enjoying the show,” Noel says conversationally.
“Good,” Arthur says brightly, then finally frees Collins, jerking his cock free entirely.
Collins coughs huskily, but uses his first breath to groan loud, full of verve. “ That’s it, boyo!” He cheers, his voice rough. “Give it to me,” he says, breathing ragged, as he rips his hand from Arthur’s ass and pumps his dripping cock eagerly.
Arthur’s breath catches as Collins’ big, rough grip strokes him hard and fast, pushes him toward the brink. “I- I’ll let you have it,” he promises. “Hold his mouth open for me, John.”
John eagerly moves his hand to the Butcher’s bearded chin, grips it tight and holds it open. He’s so hungry, Arthur.
“Let’s make sure he gets to taste what he wants so badly,” Arthur pants. He finds Collins’ willing tongue with his cock head, moans to feel that heat sear him again. His head falls back a moment with a loud moan as he rides his tongue.
Collins urges him on with his pulsing fist. But it’s his other hand coming to squeeze and milk his balls that sends Arthur over the edge with an almost melodic moan. He grunts as he spurts his load down Collins’ throat, oozes over his tongue.
Ohh, Arthur, John moans. I can see your cum all over his tongue…
Arthur’s thrusts slow as his cock twitches, satisfied, and he pants to catch his breath. He lets his cock slip from Collins’ mouth and gives his throat one more squeeze. “W-was it everything you wanted?” Arthur asks with a breathless grin.
The Butcher hums with pleasure as he swallows noisily. “Nearly,” he says.
Before Arthur has a moment to react, the Butcher is on his feet and Arthur is bent roughly over the table, landing hard with a crash of silverware and clatter of plates.
Arthur! John shouts in surprise.
“Hey--” Arthur grunts, his cheek smushed to the table by the heavy grip of Collins’ hand on his head.
“Ya didn’t think the song ended there, did ya, lad?” Collins asks, jerking Arthur’s trousers and underwear further down his thighs. “I’ll be a gentleman f’r the sake of our audience,” he promises, leaning over Arthur to whisper in his ear. “Wouldn’t want t’ worry him with your more depraved fantasies, eh?”
A little groan that could be mistaken for a growl leaves Arthur’s lips, and there’s no hope denying what that menacing-warm voice does to him so close to his ear. His cock didn’t stand a chance, not even half-soft and rallying immediately.
“We’ve already covered some of that ground, Butcher,” Noel assures him. “I don’t judge. I’ve done worse.”
“Oh, have ya now?” Collins asks with a curious curl to his voice.
Arthur groans as Collins grinds his hips against him and pushes the base of his cock against the hard edge of the table.
“Story for another time,” Noel says. “But for the sake of the neighbors, let’s keep it to a dull roar.”
Noel’s chair scrapes on the floor and Arthur’s pulse quickens. He hears the familiar jingle of Noel’s trousers being undone and his pulse goes right to his cock.
“In service of that…” Noel drawls.
What is Noel doing? I can’t see, John grumbles impatiently.
“Butcher, if you don’t mind,” Noel says and the pressure is lifted off Arthur’s head.
“Be my guest,” Butcher says magnanimously.
Arthur lifts his head to face forward and gets his bearings a little, at least enough to steady himself with his hands.
“Hey, doll,” Noel says fondly with a familiar stroke of his cheek.
Noel has his cock out, John says in a tone practically salivating. It’s gorgeous, so thick and hard…
“John says your cock is gorgeous,” Arthur shares with a smirk.
“Shame he won’t see mine comin’,” the Butcher says as he undoes his own trousers.
Arthur’s muscles tense in anticipation of a cock of unknown dimensions about to be inside him. Noel’s no slouch, so it’s not as if Arthur is totally unprepared, but the unknown element of not only the Butcher’s size, but how he likes to fuck, both excites and terrifies Arthur.
“Men fuck how they fight,” Arthur echoes what Collins had said earlier. “I take it that means you’re not gonna go easy on me.”
“Would you have it any other way, lad?” Collins says and gives Arthur’s ass a carefree swat that makes him jump.
Arthur finds himself grinning, heart racing. “Suppose not,” he admits. “You’ll make sure he doesn’t kill me, right?” He asks Noel, only half joking.
Noel chuckles. “Promise, doll.”
Collins guides his cock right up against Arthur’s exposed hole, sliding along it. The hot sear of his hard flesh makes Arthur groan. “Ya can’t see it, but ya can feel that, eh?” Collins purrs. “Can John?”
Arthur shivers. “No, h-he can’t feel that.”
“Why don’t’cha describe it to him?”
Arthur’s face burns hot. “It’s-- well, it’s not small , John.” His breath comes heavy, but even as the Butcher grinds against him, lets the heavy weight bounce against his flesh and make it pucker. “It’s thick a-and feels like it…” He swallows. “... bulges just below the tip…”
Is it as big as Noel’s? John asks--of course comparing it to his favorite dick.
Arthur almost laughs. “Nearly,” he says. “Though I have a feeling he’s going to use it to leave us a lot more sore than Noel does,” he mutters.
Collins laughs, bright in that dark way of his. “Turnin’ this into a dick measurin’ contest, John?” He teases. “Arthur’s got th’ right of it--not th’ size that matters. It’s how ya use it.” He holds his cock away and spits unceremoniously near Arthur’s hole, using his thumb to rub it in around his entrance. “Best start relaxin’ now,” he offers some advice.
Arthur exhales in service of that, but his muscles are tense in excitement as much as the anticipation of pain. He could do pain, he’d endured his fair share of it, and he’s certainly found a little pain during sex… cathartic. An experience of pain that he could curate, that brought pleasure, too.
“While Arthur enjoys being split apart, you mind givin’ me a hand, John?” Noel asks.
Arthur is rather distracted as Collins wastes no time in starting to work his thumb against his tightness. He moans as his blunt digit pushes past the clenched muscle--at least giving him that much of a warm up.
“You’re tight, boyo,” Collins rumbles huskily. “Gonna enjoy workin’ you out.”
He pushes his thumb in as far as it’ll go and twists it, making Arthur’s knees weak. He curls it and Arthur shudders with a near whimper. Goddammit, he doesn’t need Collins to hear him whimpering already.
“Oh, I like that,” Collins purrs. Of course he does. “Let’s see how you sing for me, little songbird.”
Arthur’s cock throbs at the promise, and the deceptively sweet pet name. His breath catches as Butcher withdraws his thumb, swiftly replacing it with his, thankfully, slick tip. He nudges it against Arthur, all but toying with him, making him squirm.
After a couple false starts, the Butcher finally puts his weight behind it and penetrates him. Arthur groans and grips the edge of the table, dimly aware of John’s hand working Noel’s cock. His world is narrowed to the sensations of his body--and how Collins is taking his sweet ass time.
Collins hums, just the tip of his cock clenched in Arthur’s tight ass. He wiggles it a little, chuckles as Arthur lets out a frustrated grunt and shifts his weight impatiently. “So tight, I dunno if I’ll be able t’ get back out once I’m inside ya,” he says conversationally.
“Get on with it, Butcher,” Arthur grumbles, breath short.
“Oh, let’s not rush this,” Collins purrs. “Ain’t that what ya said when ya had your cock in my mouth? I want ya t’ savor it.” He slowly starts to push deeper. “Breathe, now, lad.”
Arthur’s jaw falls open as the Butcher’s cock starts to really stretch him open. A slow, lasting moan spills from his open mouth, cut off as he hisses from the intensity of the stretch. It’s a sweet burn, one he knows will last. He gasps, feels like it’ll just keep going , truly split him open. The depth is what he craves, and the deeper inside him Collins goes, the more the pleasure overtakes the pain.
Collins encourages him with deceptive sweetness as he fills him deeper and deeper. Arthur jumps as Collins strokes his stretched-taut entrance with a calloused thumb, setting his nerves alight and making him cry out louder.
“Volume, Arthur,” Noel warns him almost playfully.
“Noel, fuck, ” Arthur hisses. He hums as Noel strokes his hair and he tries to compose himself.
“Be real humiliatin’ if ya got the cops called on your friend the detective,” Collins says, then slams his hips into Arthur’s.
Arthur’s hips knock into the table and his cock jerks against the edge, and it burns to have Collins so deep inside him, pain points all crashing into each other to a net pleasure. He has to slap his own hand over his mouth to muffle the loud shout that leaves him.
“Wouldn’t wanna embarrass him, eh?”
Arthur can hear the shit-eating grin in Collin’s voice, but he’s grinding his cock deep and Arthur can only respond with a low moan.
“Not gettin’ any quieter,” Noel teases him. “Let me help ya out.”
Arthur finds Noel’s cock brushing against his lips and he gladly parts them. His next moan is muffled by Noel’s familiar, thick cock in his mouth. He feels so fucking full, and after months of starvation, it’s decadent.
“There you go, pet,” Collins purrs sweetly, keeping his palm on Arthur’s tailbone, his thumb against his tight hole as he starts to move his hips. He starts slow, pulling back some to work that thick bulge of his cock against the resistance of Arthur’s entrance, enjoying how he puckers every time, anticipating that stretch again.
“It’ll come when ya least expect it,” Collins tells Arthur, and delivers on that promise by taking that moment to pull back and make Arthur take that widest part again in one quick stroke.
Arthur chokes on Noel’s cock and his eyes water from the sharp punch of pleasure-pain.
“You’ll get used to it. Just need a little practice,” Collins says, working it back and forth and relishing in the muffled begging, pleading moans spilling from Arthur’s throat. He sees what a glutton for punishment Arthur is. He hasn’t even tried to take the cock out of his mouth to ask to stop or slow down--not that Collins would.
Collins reaches down with his free hand to grip Arthur’s cock. “Ohh, he’s lovin’ this,” he says, his cock throbbing to hear Arthur whimper and feel his thighs tremble. “Does he like th’ stretch more?” He monitors his cock’s response as he keeps stretching him out. “Or does he want it deep ?” Slamming in to the hilt results in a full-body jerk . “Think I’ve got my answer…”
Arthur goes deliciously limp as the Butcher gives him both, long, deep thrusts that push all the right buttons. Noel’s hand grips his hair sweet while he gives him his cock just the way he likes, using his mouth. He’s sure he’s drooling, but he’s so out of his mind, he doesn’t have the sense to care.
I wish I could see you like this, Arthur. John’s voice in his mind is like a calm port in the storm of pleasure-pain inflicted on his body. Getting fucked rough over a table with a cock in your mouth. You’re a drooling mess, a vessel of pleasure. Would that I could inflict all this on you… With one of my many former forms, I could. Myself, alone, could give you the pleasure of a dozen men.
John’s words on top of the rough jostle of his body getting railed against the table, the relentless, punishing thrusts in his ass, the musky weight of the thick cock nudging the back of his throat, sends him hurtling over the edge. He’s dizzy with it, cock spurting on the floor, but it doesn’t stop. Arthur doesn’t want it to stop. He wants to be--a vessel of pleasure.
Noel’s cock withdraws from his mouth and Arthur gasps for air, reality returning.
“Yes, John!” Noel groans.
Arthur hears the slick sound of John’s palm pumping Noel’s dripping cock, but not above the slap of skin and the sharp breaths punched out of his own mouth as the Butcher rams his practically numb hips into the table. Is Collins moaning, or singing?
His own moan drowns it out as he feels that hot burst, filled with Collins’ load. He’s gasping for breath, dead weight on the table and grateful that Collins doesn’t let him crumple into a puddle on the floor as he pulls out.
“Good lad,” the Butcher says, breathing heavy. “Made a glorious mess.” He chuckles. “The detective, too. Came right on the table.”
Arthur’s head is swimming, reality so surreal it’s taking him a while to come back. He’s dimly aware of Collins putting his clothes back to rights.
Are you alright, Arthur? John asks with soft concern in his voice, a different tone than the one that had sent him over the edge.
“Yes,” Arthur says hazily. “Yes, I’m fine.” His voice sounds thick, even to himself.
“Will you give him a hand?” Noel asks, reaching for a napkin to tidy himself up.
“I am, I am,” Collins says, almost sing-song. Strong hands manage Arthur, help keep him steady on his feet.
“Took ya to a good place, eh?” Collins asks of the daze Arthur is clearly in as he walks him toward a more comfortable seat.
Arthur chuckles a little. “Wasn’t a bad place,” he says wryly.
“Here, have a seat on the couch,” Collins says. “Careful, now.”
Arthur sits heavily and immediately regrets it with a groan of discomfort. “Thanks,” he says sardonically.
“Took it like a champ,” Collins says and settles into the couch near him.
You did, Arthur, John agrees. I’m impressed you could take two at once.
Arthur chuckles a little more at that. “Thanks,” he says more earnestly, if not a little shyly from how on-the-nose John puts it.
“Here,” Noel says as he joins them. “Glass of water,” he tells Arthur, his dry tone a touch playful.
Arthur takes it gratefully and downs almost half the glass in one go.
“So,” the Butcher says. “About that report on Larson--”
“ Fuck Larson!” Arthur bursts out with resounding force.
The Butcher and Noel both laugh.
“Well,” Noel says as he sits on the arm of the couch. “These meetings are certainly going to be more interesting from now on.”