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“Go take a bath in town, and meet me at the ruins north of camp at sunset. We can… set up a tent. I’ll… have you. Like you’ve asked for.”
Arthur was riding back in the direction of the camp slowly as the sun was starting to set. He was not yet in a hurry, having bathed faster than ever before, all shaky from nerves and excitement.
The lonely road was long, and the shadows cast by the lowering sun crept like winter did; so slowly yet so surely, paying no mind to a single man on his way.
Arthur was holding himself back intentionally, as knew he was being too eager, nervous like a man half his age, and mighty needy, but he really couldn’t help his behavior. Not with Charles.
Arthur hadn’t been touched like Charles touched him, not ever, not even once. The last time he’d even been vulnerable enough to be intimate was with… Eliza. And after that, no one. Mary had wanted to wait until marriage, and one night things were strictly off-limits after what happened to Arthur’s family.
His chest constricted, the ache making him inhale sharply.
What kind of a man was terrified of lying down with women? Everyone else seemed to need fucking like food — or even crave it like air after having to hold their breath. Intimacy between men and women seemed like an inseparable part of being human, and somehow Arthur had managed to shatter that primal need in himself.
Arthur was no stranger to snide comments about not being interested in copulation, but the rude words aimed at his lack of drive didn’t hurt.
The fact that he felt broken did, however. Broken enough to not search for physical comfort; broken enough not to have the need that seemed to define men — at least to some extent.
In his diffidence, Arthur only had himself, his self-loathing, and a rough palm to keep his rare urges satisfied — which he felt like he never was. It was smarter to push his needs aside, focusing on more important things than bodily pleasures. You can’t miss something, or yearn for it if you’re focusing on staying alive in such intensity that everything else becomes a static noise, easy to ignore in its mediocrity.
Arthur had pushed his sparse yearning for closeness away, until the gang had camped near Blackwater, and Dutch had introduced him to the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen, breathtaking in all aspects. Charles Smith. Over six feet of pure muscle and masculine curves, flowing hair, glowing skin, a smile like no other — a smile, Arthur realized, didn’t shine for anyone else as often as for him.
And they clicked from the moment they met, like parts of a machine that were made to work together. That click made many other things fall into place as well, the uncertainties and unfulfilled desires that suddenly made sense.
The moments between Arthur and Charles were timid at first, not many words were exchanged between them. Just sharing glances, leaving small gifts, asking how the other’s day was. Then it was taking walks together, sharing a beer together, and going to run errands together.
And then there was a storm when they were out hunting, and they just had to share a tent. With desperate and shaken kisses, Charles asked tautly if it was okay to touch Arthur. Yes, yes, yes. There and then, Arthur was not reminded of what he’d been missing, but instead had been shown that he’d had no idea how divine an intimate moment with another could be. Maybe it was only good when it was Charles touching him.
After that night, he found himself needing the touch again and again.
Arthur had never wanted anyone like he wanted Charles. Maybe he’d had the want locked behind a dam the other man broke, but he could feel himself overwhelmed, drowning in that want, in his need to be with Charles. With his need to give everything he could to the man, just to see him share his smile with him. All of him, and if he could, all of his time as well.
But it wasn’t like they got that time together often. There were so many pressing matters, trying to provide for and take care of the gang. But whenever they got some time, they spent it together, like they were meant to.
Like the only thing that made sense was the time they shared. The touches they shared.
They got to know the best-hidden places to rut into each other, a perfect spot to put their tent up so they could suck each other off in relative privacy, and the cost of every hotel room around. Arthur had never had anything like this before, and Charles seemed to share the sentiment. Charles never held back his words when they were alone and he was praising, thanking, begging — like Arthur was something to desire. As if what they shared was as special to the man as it was to Arthur.
Arthur tried to play it cool, against everything he knew himself to be.
He didn’t confess his feelings to Charles, even if the man was the last thing he thought of when he lay down to bed, or that whenever he saw a beautiful flower he wanted to give it to him. No matter if Arthur’s journal was filled with drawings of Charles, or if he’d always brought something back to the man when he wandered off for too many days at a time. Even if Arthur couldn’t see his life without Charles at this moment, he would not tell the man how he felt — like he’d been a machine only half-complete before meeting Charles.
Such desperate things were better not voiced.
Arthur tried to seem nonchalant, and gave all he had to Charles — to not ruin the thing they had between them, to not let it slip away. Arthur let the man do whatever he wanted to his body and asked for little in return. He jerked, rut, sucked, and palmed, and never asked the man to reciprocate. Charles always did, with the care Arthur hadn’t yet received from anyone else, which left him raw and needing, aching for more.
The thing was, even when the touches Arthur had never experienced now left him breathless and shaking every week, there was something else he had been aching for, something that had been so difficult to request.
Arthur hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind, ever since he first realized he wanted it.
No matter how much he kept it hidden, folded into a neat secret to hide.
—
A couple of years ago, Arthur and Javier had robbed a rich man in a small town, the house relatively secluded but wealthy-looking enough to be of interest to them. The robbery went smoothly, as the owner of the house had been away for the night.
They found a generous amount of money, some silver spoons, and… a private collection. Javier wheezed with laughter when he was going through some paperwork on the owner’s desk.
“Come and take a look at this, Arthur,” he gestured to the man inspecting some floorboards to get closer. He was laughing out loud.
“What’cha got there?” Arthur groaned as he stood up, stepping toward whatever the younger man was so eager to show him.
“Look, look, the man is a proper invert. Ay, que escandaloso,” he snickered, browsing through the papers. Arthur could feel his heart get stuck in his throat as he caught a glimpse of what Javier was getting at.
Drawing after drawing of the filthiest erotic pictures he’d ever seen. And the smut only depicted men.
A man sucking another man’s cock, the member almost humorously big in a way that it didn’t quite fit the illustrated mouth. Two men, sucking each other’s cocks, one on all fours on top of the other. A man grabbing another’s prick and balls. One man fucking another in the ass.
All the portrayed men looked joyous. There was no sense of shame or humiliation, just pure bliss in the debauchery they were taking part in.
“Jesus, there are all kinds of freaks,” Javier said as he put the drawings down, shaking his head lightly. “We all good here?” he took a look at Arthur.
“...Think so,” Arthur cleared his throat and tried to seem unphased by what he had just seen. “You go load the horses, I’ll do one last check, ‘kay?” Javier nodded at that and collected their loot with him.
As the man stepped out of the room, Arthur let out a strained sigh. He picked up the drawings again, noticing his hands shook slightly. He swallowed hard as he stared at the man getting his ass stretched by the other’s cock.
Arthur tried to ignore his growing erection as he took the drawings, folded them, and put them into his satchel.
—
Arthur let out a shaky breath and tried to adjust his hardening cock through his jeans. He turned in the saddle, fishing his journal out of his satchel. Arthur bent the journal, letting the spine open up, and took a worn, folded paper out of the gap.
It wasn’t the original one, that had been made unreadable in a particularly terrible downpour about a year ago. This replica was starting to show wear as well, the ink slightly smudged and a few drops of water wrinkling the paper up.
Arthur had drawn the picture as closely as he could from his memory. The euphoric faces of the men, one bent over and the other fucking him from behind. They were splayed against a table, the man beneath grabbing the desk. Arthur traced a finger on the part of the drawing where the other’s cock disappeared into the inviting asshole.
He did a mindless yet strong rutting motion against his saddle horn, getting a small snort out of his mare.
“Sorry, girl,” he muttered, still staring at the image like it wasn’t the eighth hundredth time he was laying his eyes on it.
Arthur had shown the lewd drawing to Charles after they’d been intimate for a while.
This was the only thing he’d asked of the man.
Arthur hadn’t known how to put it into words he wanted that to be done to him, so it was just easier to show. Charles had flushed at the raunchy image, and taken a panicked look at Arthur. He could still feel the burning horror he’d felt in his throat, worried Charles was going to call him a disgusting freak, tell everyone he was a filthy invert, or at worst — that he’d never talk to him again.
“We’ll work up to it,” Charles had said instead, clearly nervous himself, pressing a soft kiss on Arthur’s temple. The memory of that promise, the way they actually had been building up to it, it was all too much.
Too caring, too tender, too lovely.
Arthur couldn’t help but rut against the saddle horn again, pressing the leather against his clothed erection. He folded the paper back into its hiding place and put his journal away.
He took a look at both directions of the road. It was quiet in the forest, and he let out a small sigh. Still at least half an hour, with the lazy pace he’d been traveling in.
Arthur leaned forward, firmly gripping the saddle horn, and pressed his cock against it.
“Christ,” he groaned out at the pressure. He’d already had a hard time in the bath, fingering himself clean and choosing not to chase the feeling, thinking about what Charles was about to do to him tonight. But, seeing the image again got Arthur’s thoughts wandering and hips grinding, and resisting the touch was an impossible feat.
He could imagine Charles pushing him down, pressing his shoulder blades. The tent wouldn’t have a desk to cling to, but they could be on their knees, Charles behind him. He’d use plenty of Vaseline, touching Arthur from the inside. One finger, two fingers, and the three fingers they’d been getting used to, letting Arthur grind against the touch while Charles stroked his erection.
“S-shit,” Arthur let out, grinding the horn harder. He moved his hips like he was at a fast gallop, molding himself against the leather while chasing the high of the touch.
How would Charles’ cock feel inside him? He was plenty bigger than three fingers, much longer and way thicker. Would it hurt? The fingers didn’t, if he was relaxed, but what if he panicked and clenched? What if it hurt and he liked it? A more pointed grind, getting a heavy grunt out of Arthur.
He’d ask for it slow at first. They’d have to find the sweet golden spot inside him, and after that, he’d want Charles to go as hard as he wanted.
Arthur didn’t know what the women Charles had been with had been like, or had asked for. Did the man like taking them hard? He’d never asked, but with their intimacy so soft and tender, he found it hard to believe he would want to ram into Arthur without caring for his pleasure.
But would Arthur like it if he did? He found his face hot and neck sticky with sweat as he caught himself compared to a woman. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about himself in that role (that would’ve been impossible with his fantasies) but what caught Arthur red-handed was the fact that he enjoyed the thought, the comparison. Some might say degradation, but how could it be called that when the very thought itself was freeing?
“Jesus,” Arthur moaned, feeling a familiar pressure in his balls, but unable to stop the grinding. He imagined Charles grabbing his hips and dragging his body back and forth, the pressure that would build in him, how he would feel his lover inside him, Charles coming into him like a man trying to make his wife heavy, thick cum spilling inside Arthur like he was meant for it.
“Fuck!” he cried out, not realizing he was coming until it was too late. He arched his back as he spilled, still pressing his hips against the saddle horn. He came into his pants in spurts — the sticky liquid pressed into his britches and cock, coating him with its warmth.
Arthur groaned as he came down, his mare still going forward with a steady gait. He brought a hand to the front of his jeans, hissing a bit at the touch and shaking his head slightly.
“Goddamned idiot…” he muttered, feeling shame flush his face. Arthur took a look at the skyline, seeing how the sun was getting lower on the horizon. He wouldn’t have time to divert to the river, taking a detour would make him late for his meeting. “Fuck,” he mumbled, trying to push his wet cock into a more comfortable position while he was horrifyingly aware that his jism was going to dry and stick into his pants.
Arthur rode in silence, pushing away the thoughts of what he’d just done. He had brought himself to finish more often lately, thinking about his time with Charles and the things Charles did to him. He’d also jerked off to the drawing copious times, but being taken by the fantasy in a way that he hadn’t been able to stop himself? Not like that. It was embarrassing, to say the least.
He would have to make sure Charles wouldn’t notice.
It didn’t take a long ride to approach the meeting place they’d agreed on. He saw from afar that Charles had put on a fire to light the way in the dimming evening. Arthur got into a calling distance and hopped off from the saddle.
“Hi, Charles,” Arthur called, ducking his head as he uncinched his horse’s saddle and released her to go to Taima. The mares greeted each other, and the soft familiarity between his dear horse and Charles’ made his head all fuzzy.
“Arthur!” Charles turned in his direction, getting up from the tent pole he’d secured to the ground. “I’m… so glad you’re here,” he said, smiling, as Arthur approached him.
Arthur cleared his throat, not able to make eye contact.
He felt dirty, marinating in his own debauchery. It was certainly not the first time he’d come thinking about Charles, but the fact it had happened just now, without realizing it, into his pants like a horny teenager… It was humiliating, and Charles didn’t need to know of it.
“Everything alright?” Charles asked quietly, getting close to Arthur.
“Yeah,” Arthur murmured, ducking his head. Charles took his hand to Arthur’s chin and applied enough pressure to make Arthur look at him. He took Arthur’s hat into his other hand, lifting it off from his head. So he couldn’t hide behind it, as he’d said once.
Arthur would have preferred to hide. Every touch, every promise of a new touch made him feel like his skin was being scraped off. Every time Charles smiled at him or told him he was beautiful, out of all the things in this world, he wanted to hide. Didn’t deserve it — not him, not from Charles.
“You sure?” Charles asked, his kind brown eyes reflecting the last of the sunlight and the warmth of the fire. “You can — you should tell me if you’re nervous,” he said and then pressed a soft kiss onto Arthur’s chapped lips. Arthur leaned into the kiss, unable to suppress a hum of pleasure at the feeling of Charles’ strong body against his own.
The kiss turned hungrier, the men pressing against each other as Arthur’s hands started to wander. He found Charles’ waist, so thick and reliable. Charles moved his hand from his chin, caressing down Arthur’s back to land on his ass.
Arthur groaned into the kiss as Charles squeezed his ass hard. He could feel Charles' smile, and he playfully bit the curved lips. Charles chuckled at the motion, pressing a more resolute kiss on Arthur before leaning back.
“Are you?” he asked quietly, still squeezing Arthur’s buttocks. “Nervous, I mean.” Arthur bit the inside of his lip at that, rutting slightly to test the situation in his pants.
His semen had half-dried, but his cock — starting to rise to the occasion — was still slick and sticky. He could just imagine what his groin looked like with the mess he’d made.
Arthur cleared his throat.
“Sure,” he said and pressed a chaste kiss on Charles’ soft, full lips. “But I can’t wait.”
“Shit,” Charles groaned at that, rutting against him and pushing their hips together. He opened his mouth to invite Arthur’s tongue in and gladly took the hint.
It didn’t take long until they were both hard, Charles keeping Arthur in place with a strong squeeze to chase the friction. Arthur groaned into the sensation, as a small fear awoke in him. He’d have to take off his pants. Arthur broke off the heated kiss.
“Sorry, I—” he said, pushing himself away from Charles. A frown took over the man’s face.
“You alright?” he asked, taking a step back to give Arthur the space he was asking for. “We don’t have to do anything if you—”
“S’not that,” Arthur got out, strained. He couldn’t look Charles in the eye, and he shifted on his feet. He could feel his flush, making him hot all over on the already warm summer night.
“Then what is it?” Charles asked bluntly. He was clearly agitated with the weird mood Arthur was in, and not happy to be kept on the edge. He must’ve been waiting for the night as well, and here Arthur was, ruining it for the both of them.
“I–” Arthur started, lifting his gaze to look at Charles. “I — uh, was a bit too eager for this,” he said, quick and quiet before he could think it through. Charles furrowed his brow, tilting his head slightly.
“What do you mean?” he asked, assessing him with his gaze.
“I… I got a little excited. For tonight, I mean,” Arthur brought his hand to his crotch, palming his erection through the thick denim, heart thumping as he was guiding Charles to the reveal. He saw Charles look at his wet crotch with a hungry gaze, his mouth opening slightly as he—
“Oh. …Oh,” Charles said, his eyebrows raising sharply. “Oh, you mean…” he said, shifting his gaze between Arthur’s eyes and his crotch. Arthur just nodded quietly, not sure where to go from here. They stared at each other for a moment.
“I — is it alright if I… Could’cha give me a moment to disrobe?” Arthur drawled, letting out an almost desperate-sounding chuckle. Privacy to undress was what he meant — and maybe the chance to wash off before continuing.
“...I don’t mind,” Charles said, voice turning a little sultry as he took a step closer to Arthur. They ended up face-to-face, Charles bringing his hands to Arthur’s waistband. “...This okay?” he asked, using one hand to push Arthur’s suspenders off his shoulders.
Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the feeling of Charles’ hands undressing him. They were filthy inverts already, having done things to each other Arthur knew saloon girls asked extra for. Would Charles seeing how he’d spent into his pants make things any worse? Make him turn on his heels and leave him?
Arthur’s heart strummed thick and heavy, determined enough that he knew he could overcome these doubts.
“...Yeah,” Arthur groaned, as he moved his hands to start unbuttoning Charles’ tunic. He clashed their lips together, delighted by the surprised moan he got out of the man. They made out hungrily, only taking breaks when they pulled clothes and weapons off themselves.
Arthur let out a small moan when Charles got the last button on his pants undone and started to peel the denim off him.
“Jesus, Arthur,” Charles said, and Arthur looked down at what the other man was seeing.
He’d forgone his union suit, the one he’d been wearing earlier too dirty to put on after the bath. Arthur had hopped into a relatively new pair of pants, which were now… well, not ruined, but looked close to it. The groin and the fly were covered in drying spend, slightly sticking to his pubic hair. His prick was pink and hard, glistening slightly in the low light, shiny with his come.
“Look at the state of you,” Charles groaned, running a finger down his length. Arthur shivered at the touch, grabbing Charles’ bare biceps with a gasp. “What caused this?” he asked, voice hoarse.
“I was — was thinkin’ about—” Arthur stammered, moving to open Charles’ pants. “Thinkin’ about what you might do to me,” he finished quickly, hoping the man wouldn’t hear his words. Charles let out a low chuckle, making the shame in Arthur burn brighter.
“You know what I’m gonna do to you,” he said, pressing a kiss on Arthur’s cheek before helping Arthur unbutton his pants.
“I know,” he confirmed, heart beating like it would give out any moment. They stepped out of their pants, and Charles took Arthur’s hand to lead him into the tent.
“C’mon, cowboy.”
They resumed kissing in the tent, getting on the bedroll laid out over the ground.
“How you gon’ take me?” Arthur asked, breaking a kiss. Charles hummed at that, thinking.
“How would you like it?”
Arthur felt himself flush at the question. How’d he like it? Was there a way he didn’t want it, was the real question. How would he like to experience it for the first time, with Charles?
No matter if the drawing or the fantasy had been from behind, Arthur was still hesitant to ask for that. It was a position he’d never been in, and it seemed so vulnerable and alien. Distant, in a way.
“Can I be on my back?” Arthur asked quietly, receiving an agreeing hum and a kiss on his lips. He shuffled to feel more comfortable, his heart felt like it was gonna run off from his chest, and his breathing was heavy. Charles slotted himself between Arthur’s legs, lifting them, pressing a kiss on one of the knees. Arthur tried to suppress the small panic that this position wouldn’t work.
“I-I can’t wait,” Charles stuttered, handling their tin of Vaseline to open it up. “And it seems you can’t, either,” he smiled and took a pointed look at Arthur’s slick cock. Arthur groaned at that, covering his face with his arm.
Arthur did take note of Charles’ heavy cock practically throbbing between his legs. It was good his mess didn’t take Charles’ mind off the possibility of fucking him, at least. As embarrassing as it was, it didn’t ruin anything.
”Do you want me to…” Charles trailed off, gently touching Arthur’s sticky cock. Arthur shook his head, suppressing a whine with the contact.
”Let’s get to it,” Arthur said, not wanting to voice that his nerves were going to snap if he had to wait any longer.
He just wanted to be one with Charles. Arthur had wanted that for a long time, and now that it was so close the need was suffocating him.
”Okay,” Charles exhaled. ”Relax, sweet thing. You know this.”
Arthur groaned as Charles began to circle his asshole with one slicked finger. His prick was throbbing, the anticipation building in the bottom of his stomach. He let out a long sigh, forcing himself to not tense up.
“You ready?” Charles asked, making eye contact. Arthur lifted his arm slightly so their eyes could meet. He nodded, and immediately felt an eager, thick finger press into him.
They both groaned. Arthur arched his back slightly, happy with the steady pace Charles fell straight into.
“God, I—” Charles started, letting out a small scoff. “I’ve… really waited for this, y’know,” he continued, circling the finger inside Arthur. Arthur let out a pitchy hum at that. “Ever since you showed me the picture I — I’ve touched myself to the thought – to the thought of you like that, Arthur,” he said quietly, now pulling and pushing the finger to create a thrusting motion. He slowed down after a while and added another digit. It felt easy enough.
Arthur looked at Charles between his legs, gasping slightly at the stretching. Yeah, the man wanted to fuck something, that was clear. Good thing for him, Arthur was filthy enough to want it, and easy enough to throw himself at Charles. He’d often thought he must be making the younger man uncomfortable with his affection, but at least he was offering something, now. A free ass to pound into, even if it was to satisfy a sick want in himself.
“I want you, Arthur,” Charles said, looking at him intently. Arthur gasped at the feeling of a third finger pushing past the rim into his hole. “I want to have you, and to — to make you feel real good,” he said, pressing another kiss on his knee. “I-I want to make you come.” Charles worked his hole as softly as he spoke.
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut at that, not wanting to hear the words. Each of the syllables hurt. He’d clearly fooled Charles, made him think he’d have to say nice things to him, made him think he’d need to sweet talk him as well as pound his ass.
“Charles you ain’t—” a small gasp as Charles spread his fingers in him “...Ain’t got no need to talk like that,” he got out, taking sharper breaths as Charles lazily palmed himself as he fingered Arthur.
“I want you to know I care for you,” Charles said, fucking Arthur firmly with his fingers. Arthur tried to suppress a moan at the rough motion. “I want you to… to feel cared for.” Another kiss on the knee and Arthur fluttered his eyes open.
He could melt with the gaze he was receiving from Charles. His face was alight in the dark with a soft smile, and his eyes glinted with something like… affection. The look made Arthur’s insides warm in more ways than one.
“...‘M ready,” he drawled after a while as he splayed his legs more open. Charles took a shivering breath as he removed his fingers from Arthur.
Arthur shivered as well when he felt Charles’ slick cockhead on his rim. He looked at the tent above him and let out a heavy breath.
“Hey, look at me,” Charles said, getting his attention. “We can stop if you want,” he said, still holding his erection to Arthur’s ass.
“I really wanna keep goin’”, Arthur said, looking at the man between his legs.
“Okay,” Charles said, let a sharp breath out, and started to push inside.
They both let out a groan. Arthur groaned again, more pitchy the second time. He felt panic rise in him. It was too big. He was going to tear and bleed, it was going to hurt too bad, he was—
“Arthur, look at me,” Charles interrupted his panic with a tight voice. Arthur obeyed, letting out shaky breaths. “You have to relax,” Charles groaned, clearly holding himself back. He was barely halfway inside, and Arthur already felt like there was no more space left in him.
“Shh, relax. It’s just a bit more than before,” Charles shushed. Arthur could see he was caressing his thigh, but couldn’t feel it over the stretch stretch stretch so fucking full that his lower body was yelling at his brain.
“A bit?” Arthur let out a pitchy complaint, groaning at the overwhelming sensation. “S’like you're impalin’ me with your prick,” he let out another pained groan, and felt Charles start to pull back. “Oh, no no no— keep goin’,” he strained, feeling sweat on his brow. “I’ll relax, just, please, don’t stop.”
Arthur’s fantasy was getting before his reality at the moment. He’d dreamed about this so many times, but never had he taken into account that pushing a thick cock up his asshole would be very uncomfortable.
He trusted it would get better.
It took a good while for Charles to be fully hilted in Arthur, his balls pressing tightly on Arthur’s ass. Arthur tried to take deep breaths, but feeling like Charles was pressed up into the bottom of his lungs made it extremely difficult.
“You okay?” Charles asked, and he looked as wrecked as Arthur felt. Sweat was covering his body, and his hair had started to escape his ponytail, now beautifully framing his gorgeous face. Arthur could take it. It wasn’t great, it didn’t even feel good right now, but if it made Charles feel good, he could endure it for him. He has asked for it, so he would take it.
“Yeah, feels good,” he lied, trying to smile. A smile didn’t come, and he could see Charles hesitate.
“You’re not — you don’t feel relaxed,” he got out, strained. Arthur shook his head slightly, feeling his eyes water.
“S’okay, j-just go on,” he said, trying to make his voice steady. Charles smoothed his hands on Arthur’s thighs, bringing his touch under them to push his knees slightly toward his chest. Arthur groaned at that, feeling the motion stretch his hole even more if that was even possible at the moment.
Arthur felt himself squeeze around Charles’ cock in him, which got a gasp out of the man.
“Arthur you — you need to… I don’t want to move with you so tight,” he said, petting Arthur’s thighs. Arthur let out a shivering breath and used all of his willpower to just try and lay on the bedroll as relaxed as he could.
It took a moment or two, and he could swear he felt Charles’ throbbing heartbeat inside his asshole, but it did come after a while. He got an actual deep breath in and could feel himself loosen around the obtrusion in him. It wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t comfortable, still, but he wasn’t afraid of internal bleeding anymore.
“Oh, that’s good,” Charles groaned, and he was able to pull his hips back slightly. Arthur held back a hiss at the slick movement in him and focused on relaxing his lower body. Charles pushed in, and he let out a groan.
Not the worst feeling.
Charles did it again, and again, pushing Arthur’s body on the bedroll with the motions. He brought his hands closer to the backs of Arthur’s knees and pushed the legs up.
“Jesus!” Arthur let out as he felt a wave of pleasure rattle his body. It was the spot they’d found inside him with fingers, but ten times as powerful. “Crap, do that again,” Arthur panted, pushing himself up on his elbows to see what was happening.
It was better than the drawing, a million times over. Charles Smith, pure muscle and beauty, thrusting his hard cock into his ass, as the man pushed his legs up to reach the deepest part of his guts. It was uncomfortable, but it was the best thing he’d ever experienced. Better than a good score, better than a mouth on him, better than anything and everything.
“Harder, Charles,” he pleaded after the thrusts stopped being enough. He needed more of that, no matter how sore it would make him or even if it would tear him, he just needed the wonderful man between his legs to make him cum by pounding into his ass.
And God, did he do his best at that. Charles pushed Arthur’s knees toward his chest, thrusting as hard as he could with the position, legs shaking and hair coming undone. He was letting out groans with every push, his eyes glued to where his cock was sinking, watching it with deep fascination and lust.
Charles’ mouth was open, his breathing heavy, and he lifted his gaze from where they were joined to look Arthur in the eye. Arthur was letting out moans, almost whimpers at the handling his ass was getting, and he still tried to push back into the movement. Needing more, more, more.
The slide in and out of Arthur was becoming easier. His ass was giving in, the stretching of his hole making him not only looser but overall more relaxed. He felt a pleasure like no other that came with the complete trust he’d given Charles, asking for this. He let out a particularly harsh cry, as Charles hit the spot so wonderfully, with a pace that was becoming more erratic.
“F-fuck Arthur, I’m gonna—”
“Don’t stop,” he didn’t want to hear what Charles was saying, he just needed more, faster, harder. And the man gave it to him, and he could feel the pressure build in his stomach, in his balls, as the fast and harsh thrusts went in, in, in.
“Fuck!” Charles pushed deep into Arthur hard and slowed down, and it took a second for him to realize what was happening. He could feel getting fuller, the ride into him smoother, slicker, and then he could see pumps of semen pushing out of him with every thrust of Charles’ hips.
That was a scene that wasn’t depicted in his drawing. He could see the pale liquid ooze out of his ass with every new push, feel the fullness, feel the pressure deep in his ass — and he reached his own orgasm with what felt like a punch into his gut, white and hot all over his groin.
Arthur groaned hard, almost crying , his cock shooting spend on his stomach and chest, the hot liquid sticking into his body hair. He could feel his ass squeeze around Charles’ slick cock with every new spurt, and the man hissed with that.
He didn’t know that was possible. That it was possible to… spill, without any contact on your prick, just from someone fucking you. Arthur would’ve let out a disheartened sound at the realization if he’d have any voice left as he shot on his belly.
“Ow, ow, ow—” Charles pulled his cock out of Arthur with an obscene sound, clearly overwhelmed by the tightening hole around his prick. Arthur whined at that, not having realized how empty one would feel after being stretched open by a hard fuck.
“Jesus,” Charles moaned, sitting back on his heels. He leaned his hands on Arthur’s open knees, swaying a little. Arthur chuckled at that, feeling dizzy and utterly spent himself. His asshole was throbbing and his head was filled with something soft and warm, and thinking thoughts felt too arduous a task.
“Yeah, Jesus is right,” Arthur got out, and groaned as a spasm made his back arch. He could feel Charles’ warm spend leak down his ass and onto the bedroll. Well, just add that to the laundry with his pants.
They sat for a moment, trying to catch their breaths. Charles chuckled with a pitchy sound, very clearly high off his orgasm. He hauled himself on Arthur, pressing a long, hard kiss on his mouth.
The kiss turned into several, as Charles used the cleaner of his hands to wipe some sweat off Arthur’s brow.
“Hey,” He said quietly, taking a good look at Arthur. He could feel himself flush, self-conscious about the other man seeing him shake with the aftershocks after being fucked into the ground.
“You good?” Charles asked, petting his hair softly.
“Hmm,” Arthur hummed, softly closing his eyes. His ass was sore, he could feel the dirt and sweat on him, he felt out of breath and shaky, and he was… overwhelmingly happy. He put his hand around Charles’ neck to pull him for an open-mouthed kiss. Charles hummed in surprise but kissed him back with what could only be described as passion.
They spent long minutes like that, just tasting each other while their bodies calmed down. Arthur let the tobacco and mint and Charles fill his mouth, the warmth feeling like a home he’d never had. Charles broke the kisses by pulling back softly.
“I can’t remember ever feeling so good,” he said, seemingly nervous at the confession. Arthur tilted his head at that. He shared the notion, but… Charles could get it anywhere. It was Arthur who was asking for a bad thing, making Charles an accomplice in sodomy that would get them both hanged without question. Wanted Charles over anyone else doing this to him.
“Me neither,” Arthur drawled quietly as he traced the scar on Charles’ jaw with his finger. “I’d let you do it again, whenever you wanted,” he said before he could think. “As many times as you want.”
Charles smiled at him, pressing a small kiss on the tip of his nose.
“I’ll give it to you any time you ask,” he said, sealing the promise with a kiss on Arthur’s lips.
He could think about his sins later. Now, he just wanted to pull Charles into a tight embrace, and let go only when he had to. So, he did, letting Charles lay his head on Arthur’s sticky chest as their breaths evened out.
“...Did it hurt?” Charles asked after a silence filled only with whooshes of the wind and the singing of cicadas had stretched on for long enough for Arthur to fall half asleep.
“Nothin’ too bad,” Arthur said, surprised at how frail his voice was. “It got better durin’, but I’m sure ridin’s gon’ be a hassle tomorrow,” Arthur drawled, tracing patterns into Charles’ sweat-sticky back.
“I never wanna hurt you,” Charles said against Arthur’s chest. “And since it was the first time I— we did anything like that I just—”
“Hey,” Arthur said, sharper than he intended. “I meant it when I said I ain’t ever felt so good.” He pressed a kiss on Charles’ head, and in a moment the man visibly relaxed.
“...Would you—” Charles swallowed, “would you ever want to… take me like that?” He was squeezing Arthur’s waist tightly, and Arthur was sure the man could feel how Arthur’s heart skipped a beat.
“You’d really want that? With me?” Arthur asked dumbly. Why would a man fine like Charles want Arthur like that? Why would he subject himself to be so vulnerable, to risk it all — for Arthur, for nothing?
Charles slowly lifted himself from Arthur’s chest, his figure so warm and familiar in the dark tent.
“I want you in every way,” Charles said before pressing the softest kiss Arthur had ever experienced on his lips. He let out a surprised sound, chest alight and belly simmering. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
If Arthur had been a fool of an optimist, he would’ve interpreted Charles’ words as frightened. Vulnerable. Pleading. And for a split second, Arthur let himself be a complete fool full of hope.
“I think you complete me, Charles,” Arthur blurted out, not scared of the love-drunk admission. He should be scared shitless, saying those fool words with such confidence, but the terror never came. Charles fell quiet, but Arthur waited patiently in the silence. Sometimes the man needed a moment.
Instead of words, the man met him with another kiss, gentle and slow. It went on silkenly, and it was broken tenderly.
“What a lovely thought, Arthur,” Charles murmured against his lips. “Can I think that too?” Arthur nodded.
“I think I demonstrated you can have all of me,” Arthur chuckled, feeling Charles’ smile against his lips. “Take the silly thought as well.”
“I will,” Charles said, and sealed the promise with a kiss that could’ve seemed small, but that was all-encompassing and hearty in its weight.
That promise made everything fall into place, Arthur’s uncertainties and fulfilled desires slowly making all the damn sense in the world.