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The rogue turns his head suddenly to the sound of jingling metal and the unmistakable clink of a door being unlocked. Out of habit, Dismas retreats back into the shadowy corner of his pathetic cell. Stilling his breath, he waits for the door to push open, heart beating rapidly behind his chest. The stagnant air within these lightless chambers feels so familiar. It's the oppressive and ruthless of it all, so devoid of any human compassion. A place meant for self-reflection and punishment. Its captors waiting for the noose that sways beyond the heavy timber door.
The door finally opens with a long groan. Dismas leans his back against the cold stone walls of his prison cell. He doesn't bother to pull up his neckerchief to shield himself anymore. His face was the least of his worries. Instead, he struggles to compose his features. It takes the rogue a great deal of effort not to crack a smile when his dark eyes finally lands on the hulking mass of armor and metal. The pure white symbol of the Holy Flame adorned on the deep blue hue of a worn tabard comes into view of the dimly lit room. A holy man. Even better, a crusader. The armored man wears a silver helm, his blue eyes barely visible behind the slit of his visor. He stands tall and proud, his back rigid like a tin soldier.
He stares down at the rogue with a heated gaze.
The rogue thinks carefully of the things he wants to say. He rolls the words on his tongue, feeling how he needs to say them. Wondering if the acting lessons he took from the Jester wasn't a waste of his time before this. Dismas clears his throat.
“To what I owe the pleasure of such holiness visitin’ me down here? Or did ya got lost on the way, hmm?”
The knight moves to rest his hands together behind his back. A stance that demands absolute respect and order – reminiscent of war generals commanding his brigade.
“You ought to be grateful for my presence. I am the Light’s faithful warrior and I come to give you a chance for salvation.”
Dismas scoffs loudly, pushing himself against the wall and finally stepping out from the shadows, his eyes narrowing at the man standing outside his cell. He prowls his cage like a restless dog.
“That so? Seems easy enough. I recite a few scriptures and then I’ll be on my way? Quite a bargain, I say.”
The crusader steps closer, his arms now crossed against his chest, voice cold as steel.
“If it were that easy, you heathens would be crawling free like roaches. ‘Tis easy to lie but through the Light, I shall be your judgement.”
Dismas smirks before finally stopping himself right in front of the crusader. The only thing separating him from the holy man were the bars that made up his metal prison. Dismas leans his arms against them, his body relaxing easily, feeling the surge of playful giddiness fill his chest. And it shows in how he practically purrs out the next words.
“Hmm, tell me then, your holiness. What would you have me do? Maybe I can kneel in prayer for you? Or maybe…yer open to other ways for me to…please you?”
He wants to laugh. This feels ridiculous but he cannot deny the way he shivers at what he's offering. Dismas has been called many things within his lifetime. Many of them unsavoury but once in a while someone out of the blue would dare to call him handsome. He's never been turned down yet.
The prisoner stretches out his hand, slipping past between the bars as his fingers trace the crusader's leather belt in slow deliberate motions. An invitation. Despite Dismas's advances, the crusader remained motionless save for the subtle hitch in his breath as if he was not prepared for such a shameless act. He uncrosses his arm before lowering them to his sides. Dismas smiles when the stoic crusader does not protest to the way his fingers are snaking upwards towards his surprisingly large chest.
“C’mon now, must be bloody exhausted by now. Must be tiring…holdin’ back what you can't ‘ave.”
As if the crusader had suddenly remembered himself, he clenches his fists but he doesn't move away nor step back. Instead, he stands there, letting the rogue’s hand roam upwards. Still, the crusader isn't all too happy either. Dismas notices the way those clear blue eyes are alight with anger. If he looks closer, he swears…he sees disgust.
“You faithless degenerates are born from the same mud. Even as I offer you salvation, you seek to corrupt me! T-Tempting me! You lowlifes are always meant for damnation.”
Dismas cocks his head to the side, grinning wickedly at the crusader's words. They slide off him like water against a lilypad. He's been called much much worse. Insults that would have crushed anyone's pride. But Dismas can take a few flustered lashing out from a prick clad in armor. In fact, he’s curious to see if he can peel away at the crusader's iron-like resolve with just his words and a bit of eye-lash batting.
Dismas moves his hand to rest at the crusader's waist, gently he tries to pull him closer against the metal bars.
“Aww, don't you go around hurtin’ my feelings like that. Maybe I need a lil’ guidance. Someone to set me back on the path of righteousness.”
To Dismas's delight, the bulkier man actually budges from his spot, stepping closer, until eventually he's glaring down at Dismas through his visor with his body almost pressing against the metal bars. Through his merciless gaze, Dismas sees something else.
Lust.
The rogue is quick to press himself closer but still, their bodies separated by the prison bars so it's up to the rogue to do all the legwork. He grins as his gloved hands snakes back up to grope the crusader's chest. He can't shake the realization of how large they felt under his touch. Even behind a layer of gambeson and cloth, Dismas shivers at the way the crusader seems to react positively towards it.
The way the man gives out a long sigh, practically melting under Dismas's touch against his chest. The crusader lifts his arms as he grips at the metal bars, body swaying slightly. The next words that come out of him are strained, tight with need.
“C-Cease this at once! Tempt me not with your foul ways, thief. You dare think I would succumb myself to this. ”
Dismas chuckles. My my. He’s too fun to play around. He can't remember the last person who gets this flustered by just playing with his tits.
“I daresay, your holiness, yer cock would say otherwise.”
Even behind a tabard, there's no hiding the tent forming at the front of his trousers. Gently, his hand moves downwards, fingers skating across his body and finally cupping at the prominent bulge between the crusader's legs. The reaction is instantaneous as the bulkier man gasps at the warmth of the thief's hand against his clothed cock.
“Flame, yer packing quite a sword under that belt. Heh. Must've been a while, huh? Already hard and I ain't gotta do much.”
“Cease your prattling! Nhhn–”
Dismas can't deny he's getting so very turned on by this. He continues to rub at the man’s bulge, going so far as to remove his gloves to better feel the warmth of the man’s hardening cock against his bare hand. And the crusader responds with a shiver and barely hidden whimpers slipping past his lips. Dismas can't see his face. There's only his grand shining helm. And somehow, he can already imagine how red and mortified the holy man must look beneath it.
“Surely, the Holy Light approves of their soldiers being taken care of.”
The crusader doesn't respond as if loathing to stop this indulgent act. Instead he merely grinds himself faster against the thief's hand.
The rogue presses his face against the bars, whispering to him with a dark smile spreading on his scarred lips.
“Step inside, your holiness.”
///
“‘Tis absurd and willfully foolish. I mean, I-I can see the appeal but I…Do you really want this, Dismas?”
“Already backing out, eh? And here I thought you’re up for anythin’, Rey. Of course, I want this. Don't you think it's sexy?”
“I suppose it is quite thrilling….alright, I'll entertain you but only this time. If it fulfills your debauched fantasy.”
“I promise ya won't regret this, love.”
///
The highwayman is on his knees but not in prayer as he was intended to do so. No, he’s kneeling on this filthy prison floor with a mouthful of cock, sucking diligently and he's savouring each noise that falls from the holy man’s lips. Those powerful hips buck when Dismas slips the man’s cock deeper, ignoring the tears gathering in his eyes as his other hand continues to stroke the shaft in loving motions.
“Y-Yes…ahh..like that…like – ohh..”
Dismas would have chuckled if his mouth wasn’t currently occupied. He remembers the jokes being tossed around the taverns he frequented. How loud would ye wager these crusader pricks get when someone’s sucking them off?
The rogue hums. Loud enough that he doesn’t care for the guards outside this room apparently, he thinks. Dismas couldn’t help but echo the crusader’s enthusiasm. Light, he’s pent up. The cock in his mouth is hard and leaking.
Soon, those strong leather-clad hands are carding at his hair as the bulkier man is trying his best to remain upright. He leans heavily against the wall with his head tilting upwards to the ceiling, his shoulder and thighs shake when Dismas continues to suck harder this time. The crusader is pleading something to him but the highwayman is too engrossed in his tasks to really care.
Dismas feels how hot his ears burn, the sweet taste of humiliation at what he's doing. There was no hesitation in what he offered – and now Dismas is moaning at the way the crusader is pulling roughly at his hair, guiding him where he wants that wicked mouth the most. The smell of musk and sweat, the sounds of his muffled keening echoing in this small cell and the unmistakable feel of a hardened cock stretching his lips.
Feels familiar somehow. As if he hasn't done this sort of thing with a stranger before. At the back of a tavern, in some piss-smelling alleyway, for a few coins at least. Half the time, he's too drunk to really remember their faces.
Dismas groans when he finally allows himself some relief, his one free hand rubbing at his own arousal growing ever prominent in his pants.
“Cease that at once.”
The voice stuns Dismas in his place. The crusader’s tone is bone chilling. That air of authority seeps into the way he speaks to him. Fear lacing itself in Dismas’s chest – it’s familiar. The weight of shackles on his wrists as he endured the worst of the warden’s foul mood.
“Who told you to touch yourself? You service only me .”
Another wave of arousal runs through his spine as his cock throbs in the confines of his pants. And yet, Dismas obeys. His hand moves away from his pants before they eventually return to stroke at the crusader's spit-soaked shaft, throat bobbing whenever the bulkier man pushes his hips forward, nearly gagging at the intrusion.
He loosens his jaw and gives the crusader everything he wants.
///
“How do you intend to get into prison again? Unless the pleasure house provides such facilities which I find…concerning.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little helmet. I’ve talked to the lawman about this.”
“Willam? Don’t tell me you bribed him.”
“That ain’t how bribes work. We’re not doing anythin’ illegal. Just that we’ll be occupyin’ that jail cell for a while.”
“You never really cease to surprise me. Hmph…you are incredibly lucky that I’m even willing to do any of this for you.”
“Charmed. I knew my words and good looks would sway you. Trust me, just follow my lead and you can have me as rough as you want, luv.”
///
Dismas underestimates the crusader's sheer strength as he’s being spread and pushed up against the stone walls of his cell. Their dicks wet with spit and precum as the two of them begin to rut against each other, frantic and desperate for relief. Both their pants hanging loosely below their knees with belts wholly forgotten on the floor.
The crusader moans when Dismas toys the both of their cockheads together, swiping away the beads of their seeds in one swift motion before returning to pump at their shafts.
“Turn around. Now.”
Dismas's cock jumps at the crusader's voice – impossibly deep, rough and commanding even when breathless. He doesn't need much convincing and obeys quickly as if eager to please and give. The rogue whimpers when he feels his cheeks being spread, the way that enormous rod is gliding against his taint. His skin breaks into goosebumps, shivering with anticipation as he faces the grimy wall of his prison cell, relishing how his heartbeat sounds so loud in his ears. He feels like he's on fire – needy in a way that makes him blush with shame. That he’s more than willing to spread his legs if it means it earns him his promised freedom.
The unexpected surge of mortification makes him tremble as he waggles his arse like a trained maiden in a whorehouse. The act earns the highwayman a shuddering gasp from the supposed pious man. He can feel the way that cockhead is slick and dripping against his tight rim. The crusader pulls him roughly by his hips until the highwayman’s rump is flushed against the crusader’s groin.
“ By the Flame–nghh! Need to…”
Dismas grins, his blush creeping down to his exposed neck.
“Cat got your tongue? Come now. You came here to… hahh… set me right?” He takes a breath, pushing past the delightful feel of that mighty holy lance humping against the space between his legs, “Ain’t gotta ask for my blessin’, sweet thing.”
Suddenly, he feels a pair of strong arms wrapping around his middle. A hand snaking up until it rests against his neck. Possessive. As if Dismas would slip between the man’s fingers if he weren't careful. The other hand settles on groping at his chest, feeling the soft flesh through his weathered vest. The rogue braces himself against the grimy stone wall, mouth falling open, moaning suddenly when the armored man’s humping grows faster, needier.
“Get these blasted belts off.”
///
“Dismas, I am no thespian. What if I…what if I break this illusion you are creating for us?”
“You won't. It's gonna be fine. Maybe Sarmenti could give a few–”
“As if I would stoop so low to ask help from that fool.”
“Fine, fine. Ya don't gotta be perfect. Just go with what you feel. I’ll enjoy this either way~”
“Then, I'll do my best. I do want this to be enjoyable…for both of us.”
///
The small pitiful jail cell feels less suffocating, less cold now. The body pressing behind him is crying out his long denied ecstasy, skin heated like a furnace. Dismas sobs when the crusader’s throbbing cock hits him just right. That one angle that brushes at his sweet spot and the thief practically begs for more. To feel that shot of raw pleasure delivered to him in unrelenting pounding thrust – it's enough to bring him to oblivion without needing a hand on his weeping cock.
“Ahh! Haa–! Fuck!That’s it…fuck, fuck! AH!”
He's practically being manhandled as the crusader grips him hard and bruising by his hips before pulling them back to meet his driving thrust. Dismas takes it with a long unabashed moan, feeling his own pent up desires crashing into him in roaring waves. He hasn't been this thoroughly fucked in a good six months. The sound of skin slapping against each other and the heady odor of sex and sweat fuels the both of them even further, oblivious to the risk of being walked in by an unsuspecting patrolling guard. Somehow, the idea struck Dismas as even more thrilling.
Through the lust clouded haze of his mind, he feels the crusader behind him tremble as if he's nearing that precipe. He grips Dismas harder, the top of his helm resting on Dismas’s tattoo covered back. It's a cold reminder that the man behind him is still clad in his armor. The holy sigil of his tabard pushed aside to make way for his cock. The subtle metallic noises of chainmail clinking every time he pounds into Dismas faster. He moans suddenly and the pathetic sound goes straight to Dismas's aching shaft.
“Do you enjoy this? Ngh–! Eager to serve me. I shouldn't expect less from a lowlife such as you.”
Before Dismas could turn his head to look over his shoulder, a gloved hand is grabbing him by his unshaven jaw, forcing Dismas to stare back at the wall. He whines pathetically at the roughness of each touch, struggling to get the words out amidst the vigorous pounding he's receiving.
“Y-yes! Ah! Ha! Yeah, like that! Flame, I’ll be anythin’ ya want me to be, just–AHHN!”
Dismas is shaking so badly, feeling how his legs are barely keeping him standing. Every nerve in his body feels electric, every bruising touch feels somewhat deserved for the likes of him. A thief. A street rat. Folks who steal and take don't deserve such gentle gestures. Dismas opens his mouth, a name slipping past this charade.
“Rey–! Ahh! I’m gonna–!”
The highwayman cries out in unbridled pleasure as he paints the prison wall with his seed, unable to think of anything else besides the blessed way the crusader behind him isn't slowing down, even after his body goes boneless from exhaustion. His body quakes and trembles as his shaft grows limp, cum still dripping to the floor.
The man behind him stops and sneers mockingly, holding onto Dismas’s middle as he leans closer to whisper at the rogue's ear.
“Filthy thief. I shall claim you despite your unworthy nature.”
Dismas lazily tilts his head back until he feels the hard cold surface of the crusader's helm. He smiles weakly.
“I’ll be your whore, your wench, your harlot. How's bout you fill me up proper, luv? Ahh–yes! ”
A few thrusts was all it took for the holy man behind him to finish himself inside the thief with a long bellowing moan, gripping Dismas so tight that he knew there would be marks in the morning. He shivers when he feels the crusader's cum leaking from his hole as it slids to the inside of his thighs. Dismas whines as the crusader moves his hips suddenly, his skin still overly sensitive from their passionate coupling.
The sound of ragged breathing fills their small space, both men enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies pressed flush together in a loving embrace. Their charade falls and the highwayman breaks their silence with a breathy laugh. Gingerly, the crusader pulls out, his cock now limp and thoroughly drained, thr front of his tabard smelling of sweat. Dismas turns around, grinning at the sight of his partner.
“Heh, admit it, Rey. That was bloody fun.”
Reynauld pulls out a dirty napkin from his leather satchel and proceeds to clean the mess on his groin.
“Y-Yes, I suppose it was….thrilling as you put it.” He huffs, suddenly timid in his demeanor. “Did you…find my words befitting for your standard? The foul talk, I mean. Or was I too overzealous?”
Dismas merely shakes his head with a chuckle, bending down to pick up his discarded belts and trousers.
“Reynauld, darlin’. I can't get enough when you talk to me like that~ Gets me hard as steel, y'know.”
Despite his face being hidden by his helm, Dismas can hear the smile behind his voice. “Insufferable, that's what you are.”
“Heh, but ya love me anyways, sweet thing.”