Work Text:
In the Shady Belle house, the floorboards speak. They cry under the weight of those above, groaning and creaking in dismay, weakened in their rotting states. And they speak of secrets.
Arthur can hear him coming before the door even opens—the floorboards tell him.
It doesn’t surprise him. Man’s got an appetite, and he ain’t gonna get his rest ‘til he gets his fill. Something hot and eager plucks at the strings of his gut, playing him like a goddamn harp.
Just hearing the floorboards talk makes his cock twitch—considering how stupidly hot and humid it is in this armpit of a swamp, he’s wearing absolutely nothing. He’d be an insane man to try and sleep in his union suit right now.
Propped up in bed with his journal against a thigh, Arthur stops sketching a loose-lined portrait of his current artistic inspiration: the man who's been coming to him nearly every night. He lets it flap shut, setting it aside on the table next to his bed.
The man is taking too long to knock. Doubt might be settling. Arthur’s a man of dispelling doubt.
“C’min,” he gruffly says, settling back into his stack of threadbare pillows.
The door opens, creaking on its hinges.
Javier enters, visibly shiny with perspiration. He’s lacking his hat. His loose hair curtaining his face is stringy, weighed with sweat, with grime.
Arthur takes in a deep, chest-expanding breath, laying eyes on him. He looks like he’s been standing out in that moist swamp, taking watch for hours, unwashed and exhausted—yet, somehow, just laying eyes on him is enough. Promises, memories, flash through him. His cock rests hard against his thigh, eager, anticipating.
Javier slips into the room, hand drifting along the edge of the door before he quietly pushes it shut with a soft click of its latch. The typical severity on his face lightens just a bit, laying eyes on him across the room.
“Evening, Arthur. Not disturbing you, am I?”
“Does it look like you are, bud?” Arthur flexes his ab muscles, his cock straining up in indication. Javier cracks a throaty laugh—the very same one that makes Arthur feel all soft and fluttery inside.
Arthur moves to sit up, but Javier wags a finger, walking over with clicks of his spurs as he says, “Ay, don’t you move a muscle. You were fine how you were.”
Holding his hands up in surrender, Arthur lays back against his pillows, grinning. Javier stops beside his bed, standing over him. His dark gaze is made black in the low light of Arthur’s lamp—makes Arthur feel a bit like prey pinned by the predator.
“I stink like a mule, and I’m gonna go wash real quick. Was hoping you’d welcome me into your bed after.” Javier sniffs, hands settling on his belt. Arthur looks him up and down, whistling low.
“Looking like that? How could I say no, amigo?”
An amused grin pulls further across Javier’s sweat-slicked face.
“As long as we’re on the same page, Arthur. I’ll be back.” With that, the man takes his departure. Arthur admires his back and his ass as he walks out, golden-tipped shoes and gun belt clicking. Javier throws a glance his way as he slips out the door, shutting it quietly behind himself.
Arthur’s heart is already at a race, his groin hot. Christ, what that man does to him should be questioned a bit but for now, and probably for the unforeseeable future, Arthur won’t consider it further.
He gets up to dig his petroleum jelly out from under the mattress, tucked into the corner. He should have enough time to get ready. Javier has some scrubbing to do, after all. Came in here as ripe as a wet dog.
Twenty minutes later, he hears the floorboards. A jolt of excitement pierces through Arthur, just like that. He may as well be a particularly tall tree, because Javier strikes him like a bolt of lighting just being in his proximity. Setting him alight and all that.
It doesn’t make any goddamn sense—well, excluding the fact that Javier is one particularly good-looking guy. Arthur hasn’t met many Mexican fellers, but if they all look like that, then he ain’t opposed to meeting more.
The door creaks open, and yet again, Javier slips in like a snake to its den. Arthur swallows hard, blood pulsing south already.
Javier’s hair is tied back as always, but he’s clearly washed it. The locks often hanging loose around his face are now tucked behind his ears. His facial hair is tidier, too. He’s lacking his jacket and vest—instead, he’s wearing a cream-colored button shirt, buttons undone at the collar to show dark chest hair.
Arthur wants to voice how goddamn handsome he is, to express his appreciation, but—the words get caught somewhere. He just stares, silently swept up in his admiration. Javier smirks a little, approaching the bed.
“The bath make that much of a difference?” He doesn’t wait; he kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed. Arthur had adjusted the pillows and blankets to suit their plans, and now lounges against the pillows, propped up on an elbow.
But Javier is just as quick to saddle up close to him, placing a hand to his shoulder, pressing down. And Arthur obeys; he drops back. His stomach is tight, tongue thick.
“Er, sorry. Uh, yeah. I mean, not that, it’s just—you look, er, good.” Shit. Real smooth, Arthur. Goddamn moron. His eyes dart around Javier’s faintly smiling face, before cowardly averting. His face floods with heat.
“You can look as much as you want, amorcito. I don’t mind. Puedes hacer lo que quieras. Tomar lo que quieras. Soy todo tuyo.”
Arthur has learned to just gloss over Javier’s Spanish, because the man often leaves it a mystery if Arthur even asks. He nods slightly, embarrassed.
“Uh, alright. I will, then.”
Javier grins a little, a charming sight. Man has to have a good reason to smile—so this makes Arthur feel pretty damn good that he was able to draw it out of him. It shows a sliver of his teeth, brings out the crow’s feet.
Arthur’s insides do that flip-flopping thing again. It brings him back to life, as frozen as he was under Javier’s attention; he sits up a bit, just to get the leverage to grab the man and pull him in. Javier makes a soft grunt as their lips clash together, though he is just as quick to recover.
“¿Cuál es la prisa?” Javier breathes into his mouth, the Spanish rolling from his lips smooth like honey. “¿Tanto quieres que te coja? Te lo daré tal como quieres, cariño.”
“Th’fuck you sayin’?” Arthur pulls back to look at him through narrowed eyes, annoyed that he’s being left out of his own conversation. Not that this could really be considered a conversation, though. Javier doesn’t even falter.
“I said you’re acting like you’re dying to get fucked, Arthur. However you want it, I’ll give it to you. Say the word.”
Arthur’s cock springs to life at that. The flush of warmth in his groin has him grunting under his breath, saying clumsily, “Hey, you were the one that—y-you came in here asking for it. Not me.”
“Yet out of the two of us, you’re naked, prick hard, and got that jelly open and ready. No shame in it. I offered, and you knew what to expect, amorcito.”
“Then give it to me already, cowboy,” Arthur grunts, hands forcing between their bodies to yank Javier’s pants open, popping the button. Javier laughs under his breath, gazes down at him with fire in the black coal of his eyes. His loose hair falls between them, fluttering from their heavier breaths.
“Alright, Arthur. Whatever you say.”
He watches Javier back off, kneeling beside him. He strips off his shirt, yanking it up over his head, his pants soon to follow. His prick springs up from the confines of his pants, hard and flushed, nestled in a bush of dark hair. The head is a rosy red, glistening under the lamplight, dripping already.
“Jesus,” Arthur grunts, staring unashamedly now that he’s gotten explicit permission to. Javier’s one of the slimmer fellers of the group. He’s lean, muscular, his chest and belly firm. Dark hair dusts across his front, his legs, his forearms. It’s warm in here, considering they’re living in a goddamn swamp in the middle of summer, so the man is already beading with sweat.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Javier requests, his voice a low, sultry rumble, eyes searching.
“I’m thinkin’ you’re goddamn—you’re, uh. You’re a handsome man.” Arthur’s mind is mush again. He really has no class when he’s with another man.
Javier gives him that little snaggletooth smirk again. He confidently puts himself between Arthur’s legs, hands drifting along his thighs. One finds his cock, fingers curling around the base of his shaft, thumb tucking under his balls. Arthur’s entire body ripples with tension, legs flexing around Javier.
Javier is shameless. Confident in how he handles him.
“You don’t have to do anything, Arthur.” Javier is watching him with intent in his gaze. “I’ll take care of it, of you.”
“Hey, I don’t wanna be the lazy, good-for-nothin’ with my head on the pillow.” Arthur moves to prop up on his elbow, frowning.
“But what if that’s exactly what I want, amorcito?” Javier is looking at him all slyly again, maintaining eye contact as he leans down to lay a kiss to Arthur’s knee. That brings heat to Arthur’s face. Javier’s lips move against him as he speaks. It’s so goddamn intimate, Arthur doesn’t know what to think, what to feel.
“You’re letting me in your bed. Allow me the ability to earn my keep.” Staring up into his eyes, Javier then bites his knee, a firm nip of rough skin between his teeth.
Arthur struggles to think up a response to that. Flustered, he manages a weak, “Oh, alright, you smooth bastard.”
And that’s all Javier needs; he begins mouthing wet, hot kisses up Arthur’s thigh, his facial hair tickling him. He presses down on his knee, an encouragement to spread his legs open.
Arthur obliges, as embarrassing a position this may be. He kinda feels like a woman, letting his legs splay open, waiting. He’s usually not so damn passive… But if Javier wants to take control, then what’s the harm?
Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, this man seems to always take the reins. Arthur’s only gotten a few minutes in of riding him, or sucking him off, before he’s nudged into the position Javier wants—and it’s always a position that means more pleasure for Arthur. Shit, this man is a better lover than he could ever be. Maybe he’s just a lazy bastard. He should really try and make it up to Javier—
Javier biting down hard on a mouthful of his thigh jerks him out of his thoughts. Yelping, Arthur’s hand finds Javier’s back, curling around one flexing shoulder blade.
Javier doesn’t let him get a word in; he bites a trail down to his hip, Arthur grunting all the way, startled by the pain of it, by how arousing it is despite that. Javier then grabs two firm handfuls of his thighs, gripping hard enough it fucking hurts. Arthur groans, squirming.
He watches through narrowed eyes as Javier’s grasp travels, his fingers gripping the flesh of his inner thighs, squeezing, moving further in until he’s clutching at his hips, hard enough the blood below his skin deviates, leaving white grip-marks. Arthur is trembling slightly by then, wide-eyed and speechless, stunned by how it’s making him feel. He’s getting all hot and bothered from some grabbing. And ain’t that something? He shouldn’t be affected so easily by this, but Javier puts him in a place he’s never been before. He feels unusually vulnerable, and he’s not sure if he likes it.
“Easy,” Javier murmurs, as if he’d sensed Arthur’s discomfort, his ingrained need to maintain some useless form of masculine image. Being reduced to this state is not a part of what Arthur Morgan is, but, damn it, this ain’t that. Arthur takes a breath, trying to ignore the urge to maintain appearances when he really don’t gotta—especially not with Javier.
His hand has lingered on Javier’s back, feeling the shift of muscles as the man moved, and now he shyly sweeps it up to the back of his neck, gripping the base of his small ponytail without really thinking about it. This earns a heated glance from Javier.
Hair falling to curtain his face, Javier lays another kiss to his knee. Then he rests his cheek to it, stubble scratching, tilts his head to meet Arthur’s eyes, black on blue.
“Relax, pequeño. I’ll get you eager for it.” Javier’s dark, hungry gaze pans down his body, admiring unashamedly as Arthur had done to him. Taking his heavy cock in hand, Javier pulls back his foreskin with a firm grip, confident in his touches. Arthur can’t help the grunt that slips past grit teeth, blood roaring everywhere in his body. The heat of the damn swamp, trapped in this decrepit house, ain’t doing him any favors, either. He’s burning up.
Javier really ain’t the type to drag his feet; he leans down in-between his legs to suck the head of his prick into his mouth. Arthur grunts, head dropping back into the pillows. The hand in Javier’s hair tightens its grip, pulling slightly, guiding his head. Javier hums around him, a vocal encouragement.
“Ah, g-goddamn, Javier,” Arthur pants, lifting his head to watch through squinting eyes, teeth grit. Driven by instinct, by need, Arthur guides Javier’s head with the fistful of his hair, working him up and down. Blood pulsates hot and heady in his groin, pulsing in his cock as Javier sucks him. He’s stroking his mouth up and down only a couple inches of his cock, but, fuck, is it enough. And he ain’t holding back—he’s sucking hard, one hand squeezing a handful of his asschek. Then he’s passing a firm thumb down his asscheek to his asshole, a fair warning that progresses into a hard, circling massage.
“Oh, Christ–” Arthur chokes, wide-eyed and overwhelmed. Javier pays particular attention to the head of his cock, nursing so damn hard it nearly hurts, pushing that thumb into his ass—Arthur moans again, a low, rumbling sound.
“C’mon, enough, enough,” he pants, pulling lightly on Javier’s hair, urging him off his prick. Javier looks up at him with fiery eyes, lips wet, slightly swollen.
“What do you need, cariño?”
Arthur’s jaw flexes, mouth working on no words, struggling to compute how this is making him feel, being cared for like this. Grinning, Javier gets up, gathering Arthur’s legs in his arms, letting them hook over his elbows.
“Let me hear it, pussycat. What do you need?”
Shit. Arthur goes red in the face.
“I…” He hesitates, embarrassed.
Javier hikes up his legs, pulling up his hips to angle it properly—he aligns his cock to rest it against Arthur’s asscrack, lightly rubbing him there in a slight back and forth rolling of his hips. Arthur goes limp against the bed, huffing loudly, eyes squeezing shut. Javier chuckles, a coarse sound that makes Arthur’s hair stand on end.
“Tienes tu bonito agujero listo para mí y ni siquiera puedes decirlo. Qué tierno.”
“Fuuuck you with that,” Arthur moans. Javier laughs again.
“I won’t do anything until you tell me what you want, Arthur. Just so we’re on the same page."
“Shit,” Arthur pants, eyes snapping open to look at Javier, his chest heaving. He may not know what the hell he’s saying, but the way he’s saying it—it’s obvious. It’s goddamn filthy what this man is doing to him.
Javier readjusts his grip on his legs, hoisting him closer, and brings a hand down to push his cock into place—until the head presses firm against his hole, slick as it is, yet not quite pushing in. Arthur groans under his breath, nearly delirious. Fuck, he’s never been so horny in his life. He’s never had it as good as he does with this man.
“Come on, you shy thing,” Javier huffs, arms flexing, eyes wild. “This is torture for me, too. How badly I want to push in and have you. I want to fill you up. Let me.”
“Hnnh–ah–shit—just do it, damn it. Put it in me.” Arthur brings both hands down to spread his ass open, trying to wiggle down on the head of his cock. Javier takes in a deep, shuddering breath, eyes widening, mouth slack. Arthur is so goddamn embarrassed, but Javier asked for it, and he’d do anything to make the fellas happy, even—even this.
“That’s it,” Javier moans as he begins to slide in, pushing past the resistance with the slick aid of the jelly. Arthur moans low and long, feeling that hard length enter him, pushing in slow and firm until Javier’s flush to him, balls flat to his ass, pubic hair tickling his skin. Fuck, he’s stuffing him goddamn full. It hurts, this deep intrusion. Arthur squirms a little, huffing and grunting, knowing it’s going to feel better in a second.
“There you go…” Javier sighs, moaning under his breath. His face is clenched up in pleasure, arms locked up tight around Arthur’s legs, keeping him rooted in place. “Joder—Arthur, you feel so good. Just like that, mi amor.”
“‘Mi amor’?” Arthur grunts, butchering the pronunciation. “I could'a sworn I heard that one before.”
“Yes, and I will say to you many more,” Javier murmurs, pulling him that much closer across the bed by the hold on his legs, scattering Arthur’s thoughts yet again. “Now lay back, and focus on how good I am making you feel.”
He pins Arthur to the bed like this—his folded legs practically tucked up between their bodies, kept open by Javier’s arms, the man leaning into him, letting him bear his weight—and begins slowly, carefully pulling out. The drag is slick and warm, and it doesn’t hurt as bad as the first time they fucked like this, months ago now—at least, as far as Arthur remembers. It took a long damn time to get to where they are now, that’s for sure.
Arthur relaxes his body as much as he can, trying his damndest to make it as painless as possible. Javier pushes back in, forcing past the remaining resistance, slow and easy. It evokes another deep, low moan from the man underneath him.
The way his lower half is angled, his legs folded and pushed up like this, makes Javier hit that place inside of him that has his entire body tingling and lighting up like some goddamn fireworks. Soon enough, the back and forth doesn’t hurt at all, and it just feels good.
“This alright, amorcito?” Javier keeps slowly pulling out and pushing back in, a firm glide that gradually loosens Arthur up, until the drag becomes less of a tight grip. Arthur pants heavily through it, face tensed up. He manages an undignified grunt, too goddamn gone. He grabs a pillow and presses it over his face, knowing he’s going to start losing it—he doesn’t want the whole goddamn house hearing him.
“Yeah,” he growls into the pillow. “Yeah, it’s good.”
“It’s good for me, too. You feel good. Estas tan apretado y mojado que me estoy volviendo loco. Tú me vuelves loco. Eres un hombre hermoso. Mi hombre.” The moan that follows Javier’s hastily, breathlessly whispered Spanish earns a peek from Arthur.
Javier is visibly dripping with sweat, face flushed red. There’s a look to his dark eyes Arthur can’t read—he looks… different. Softer. Weaker.
“You alright, señor?” Arthur teases him a little, because he can’t help himself. It’s always been an inside joke, calling him that. As he hoped for, Javier huffs a laugh.
“Never better.”
Leaning back, sparing Arthur his weight, he instead hooks his hands under his knees and forces his legs up, leaning into him through that grip instead. Arthur goes deathly silent, embarrassed by this exposing position, but enjoying it all the same. Javier has ridden him hard in this position before, and the anticipation is riling him up even more. But, shit, is it embarrassing.
Pinned to the bed, Arthur can only lay there and take it as Javier begins fucking him in deep, harder thrusts, driving the full length of his cock in and out of him, pounding into him with a tempo that isn’t rushed and selfish—gradual, controlled snaps of his hips with an angle that hits Arthur just fucking right. The bed is creaking loudly, the old, dilapidated thing.
There’s no chance they’re getting away with this. Anyone who’s ignorant to what’s going on in this room is either deaf or dead. Fuck, he’s so out of it, he finds he doesn’t even care right now.
Cramming the pillow further into his face to stifle his sounds, Arthur moans into it, deep voice cracking. Above him, Javier is groaning under his breath, whispering Spanish, and Arthur can’t understand shit, but it’s still doing something to him. God, it’s something.
Arthur drops the pillow to the side, gasping for air. It was a good damn choice—he was missing this raunchy sight of Javier between his legs, pinning them open, his body flexing with the effort it takes to fuck him. He’s looking down at him with burning eyes, his mouth slack, loose hair clinging to his face with sweat.
Arthur stares right back, reaching out to grab the man by his straining forearms, letting his touch wander up to his biceps, squeezing. Javier presses in deep, flush to him, and stops just so he can drop down onto an elbow, reaching Arthur’s mouth which he delivers a heated kiss.
Moaning into it, Arthur wraps his legs around the other man, clutching his hair in one fist. Javier’s lips come with the taste of sweat and the scratch of facial hair.
“Mi corazón,” Javier murmurs again, that slightly coarse, smooth-talkin’ voice a rumble between them. Arthur huffs breathlessly, clutching at him, pulling back enough to look at his face.
“What you sayin’ to me?”
Javier manages a slight twitch of a smirk, but it’s quick to fall.
“Ride me, cowboy.” Javier leans back again, hands squeezing around Arthur’s knees. He begins to pull out, sighing as he does. Arthur moans, feeling, seeing that prick slide out of his ass—Christ, it’s intense.
Arthur’s ass throbs a bit as he clumsily gets up, waiting for Javier to lay back against the creaky bed. Javier snatches a pillow and tucks it under his head as he gets settled. Arthur climbs over him, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Changed your mind? Too hot to do all the work?” He can’t help but tease the man as he climbs over him, his big body clumsy on such a small bed with another man already in it. He manages to squat over Javier. Javier’s eyes are downcast, watching himself take his prick in hand and rub it up against Arthur’s hole. Arthur grunts, a stifled sound behind grit teeth. Shit, that feeling does him in, too.
“Nah, I just wanted to free my hands up.” Javier looks smug, saying this. Arthur huffs a breathless laugh, beginning to sit down, hands braced against the bed on either side of the man. Javier’s cock slips into him easily, and it’s effortless, sitting down on it, taking it in. Getting settled on his lap, Arthur cranes his head up, moaning under his breath.
“Ah, yeah, feel good, don’t it, pequeño?” Javier’s hands grip his ass, squeezing the muscled flesh there. He spreads him open and pushes up into it, grinning, looking at him with wild eyes. Arthur shudders, gasping.
“Sh-shut the hell up,” he manages, and Javier laughs.
“Unless you got a gag, that isn’t happening.”
“Yeah, yeah. Not that I know what you’re sayin’ most of the time, anyways.”
Javier looks amused.
“Oh, feeling left out, Arthur? If you weren’t so shy, I’d say it all to you in English, little one.”
“Little one?!”
Javier cracks a loud laugh, jostling Arthur on top of him. Embarrassed, Arthur looks down at him with a scandalized expression. Despite the circumstance, Javier looks good like this: laying back, hair sprawled, smiling, enjoying himself.
“It sounds odd in English, doesn’t it? Well, how about this: I’ll sweet talk you in English, and if you don’t like it, then I’ll spare you and switch back to my mother tongue.”
Christ. Maybe Javier was right. He’s not sure if he could handle being sweet-talked by another man.
“Er, alright. We’ll give it a try.”
“Fuck yourself on me,” Javier murmurs, eyes hooded. Arthur’s stomach twists at that—would he have said that in Spanish? Either way, Arthur leans into his hands and begins rolling his hips, brow furrowed. He’s a pretty big guy and riding another man isn’t the easiest, but he wants to do his damn best for Javier. Javier’s hands squeeze his ass one more time before traveling to his thighs, feeling along the tensed muscle.
“Ah, just like that,” Javier breathes, gripping his hips, holding him there, firm. “There you go, baby. Take it nice and slow if you want. Mmm.”
Arthur becomes so red-faced he’s sure his forehead could fry an egg. Christ. Javier is talking like it’s more than just a casual thing, what they’re doing—and baby?! He’s one of the Dutch Boys, damn it.
But… it’s hot, and it’s just pillow talk, so he doesn’t mean anything by it, right? Arthur finds himself invigorated, either way. He places both hands against Javier’s chest, fingers tickled by his chest hair, and uses this leverage to begin rocking up and down on his prick. Javier’s entire body tenses under him, and his eyes fly up to Arthur’s face, watching him intently. He squeezes his hips hard enough to hurt, evoking a low grunt from the man. Then, suddenly, he’s got hands on Arthur’s cock.
Arthur coils up with tension as his eyes snap down, watching Javier’s hand stroke up and down his prick, nice and easy, wet and slick from sweat and pre-cum. He gathers his heavy balls in his other hand, gripping firmly but not to the point of pain.
Arthur realizes he’s gone still, seated fully on Javier’s dick. Javier is smiling slightly, amused.
“Someone gets a hand on this pretty cock of yours, and all you want is more, cariño. How about this: get on your hands and knees, and I’ll give it to you good.” Javier releases his genitals and clutches the underside of his thighs, pushing. Arthur clumsily gets off, panting hard, head spinning.
Alright, he's clearly not real good at riding another man, it’s obvious now. Javier maybe has a point, taking the lead all the time.
Arthur experiences a sudden, momentary blow to his self-esteem, embarrassed. Why is Javier even fucking him, if he’s such a poor lay? Probably gonna get tired of him sooner rather than later.
Javier grabbing the back of his neck and pushing him down into the pillows strikes the thought away, moodswing forgotten. Face to the bed, Arthur raises up on his knees, showing his ass. Javier groans from behind him, hand tightening around the back of his neck.
“Beautiful man, all for me,” Javier growls. "I’ll fill you up right, Arthur.”
“Goddamn,” Arthur pants like a dog into the pillow, eyes rolling shut. “Give it to me, Javier. C’mon.”
Without a word, Javier obliges; he saddles up close behind him, rubs his cock down between his asscheeks, and slides in deep until his balls are flush to his taint. Arthur’s entire body clenches, his hands trembling, limp by his head.
“Ohhhh, Jesus Christ…” Arthur slurs into the pillows. “Nnhh, Javier…”
“That’s right,” Javier sighs, hands groping hard at his ass, his thighs. “Little needy whore, Arthur. I’ll love you the way you deserve.”
“Goddamn it, I-I’m not–” Arthur is embarrassed all to hell, all nine layers of it, but lets it go, realizing it’s pointless arguing for a masculine image that doesn’t matter right now. Javier hums a rumbling laugh, hands reaching around, skirting across Arthur’s clenching belly to take his heavy cock in hand. Arthur flinches, groaning weakly.
Javier shushes him softly, and is that not the most embarrassing thing—like he’s a restless little foal needing to be calmed. Javier begins stroking at him firmly, squeezing wet fingers around the head. Arthur sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, clenching up tight. Javier grunts behind him.
“Love it when you squeeze me, Arthur. Tells me you’re feelin’ just right.”
Arthur can only breathe hard into the pillows, eyes rolling, head completely empty—a fog. Javier kneads his prick for a moment longer, evoking another embarrassing, long moan from the man, and then lets go.
“I want you to touch yourself,” Javier says. “I think it’s time you get yours, mi putito.”
Jesus. Javier is goddamn relentless in bed. Such a quiet feller made into some horny beast behind closed doors—and Arthur feels mighty blessed, all things considered.
But he’s still embarrassed. Arthur curls in, one hand partially hiding his red face, while the other sluggishly drags down the bed to slip under his belly, gripping himself.
Javier readjusts himself on his knees behind him, hands squeezing the flesh of his hips, using them like handles as he begins to snap into him. Arthur’s head shoots up, eyes flashing wide—like this, Javier’s prick gets so much deeper, practically in his stomach.
“Fuck! Ah, s-so deep, Christ!” Arthur babbles, collapsing forward onto his face and shoulders again, whimpering. Javier moans from behind him, a long, humming sound of pleasure, yet says nothing more. Feet and hands clenching, Arthur is locked up in pleasure, grunting almost rhythmically into the pillows with every drive of Javier’s cock far into his ass.
“Hhnnh, ahhn, f-fuck, Jav–Javier—shit!” Arthur can’t control himself. He can’t stop moaning. Maybe Javier was right—he is a goddamn whore. But he’s not that far gone to overlook the fact he’s being noisy; he grabs a fistful of a pillow and crams it against his mouth, eyes screwed shut.
“What sweet sounds, Arthur…” Javier’s groping hands travel along his sweaty back, stroking at him. That smooth voice, breathless as it may be, is charming as ever. “You’re loving this, aren’t you, you sweet thing? Handsome stud like you, getting it good. I’ll always give it to you good, Arthur.”
All Arthur can manage is a weak moan, delirious, the humiliation a delicious, red-hot double-edged sword. It stabs him right in his core. He wants to shoot him down, to stop humiliating him, but the words never surface.
He likes it, who is he kidding? Certainly not Javier.
Suddenly, Javier stops fucking into him, panting hard. He pushes in deep, grinding, and Arthur flinches forward, whimpering. Again, Javier shushes him, cooing, “S’alright, cowboy. I got you.”
Slow and gentle, he rocks back and forth into him, pushing in hard, grinding, letting him feel it deep, over and over. Arthur moans loudly, muffled into the pillow, eyes rolling up. It kicks him into action; he begins tugging at himself, stroking wet flesh, panting hard and fast into the pillows, head a hot brume of nothingness.
“F-fuck, I’m... hhhnn, I'm about to—” He can’t even vocalize it. Javier begins thrusting again, slow, deep rolls of his hips, working into him over and over, angling it just right. Arthur begins shaking wildly under him. The roaring fire that consumes him is like nothing he’s ever felt. His ass, deep inside, feels so damn good. Pulsating pleasure rolls through him and renders him incoherent. Sobbing into the pillow, Arthur strokes himself through it as he shoots onto the blankets, hand trembling uncontrollably.
“Joder...” He hears Javier say, beyond the fog. The thrusts pick up suddenly, hips shakily snapping into him, but in a way that shows restraint, control. Arthur grunts, muffled and weak, but just takes it, weak and boneless as he is. Javier moans, hands gripping harshly at his hips, anchoring him back into the shaky, deep thrusts.
The gush of something wet and hot inside of him feels so good, riding the high as he is. Arthur cracks a wavering moan, shaking. He pushes back into it weakly, bouncing his ass back into Javier’s hips. Javier grasps his ass, panting harshly.
“Mierda, Arthur. That’s it–! Ah!”
Arthur’s belly warms at that, his softening cock twitching. He works back against him, until Javier shudders hard, letting out a long, deep exhale. His hands cup his asscheeks, pushing gently until Arthur slows to a stop.
Both men gasp for air, seeking recuperation after such a devastating fuck. Arthur goes absolutely limp atop the bed, the aftershocks pulsating through him, making him shake. Javier slides out of him, letting him rest, and gets up from the bed. Arthur hears the jingling of him getting dressed.
“I’ll be right back, mi amor. Rest.” A hand is placed on the back of his head. Arthur grunts, burrowing further into the pillows, shying from affection as usual.
The door opens and closes. In this moment of solitude, Arthur contemplates the buzzing feeling flowing through his body, the pleasant soreness in his ass. He usually doesn’t come that hard, but Javier somehow manages to make it that good nearly every time. Laying in it now, he also thinks he let out a lot, too.
A few minutes later, the door opens again. Arthur turns his head to peek over, seeing Javier reenter with a rag and a mug of what he assumes to be water.
Taking a seat at the bed again, Javier holds out the mug, face stoic, eyes hooded, distant.
Dragging himself up into a seated position, Arthur takes the mug with a gruffly spoken word of thanks. He hadn’t realized how parched he was until he starts drinking. He greedily sucks it down like a man at death’s door, but stops himself when he becomes aware of his selfishness.
He holds it out to Javier. The corner of Javier’s mouth pulls up. He pats Arthur on the bicep.
“I already had my fill downstairs. Thanks.”
With that, the man stands up and strips his pants again. Arthur watches him as he cleans off his cock, dried with mixed fluids. He folds the rag over to a clean side, turns to Arthur and holds it out.
Arthur accepts it with a nod and sets aside the mug to clean himself, too. Meanwhile, he peeks over, watching Javier dress himself again. He buttons up his pants, pulls on the button shirt, tugs on his shoes. He’s turned partially away from Arthur as he does this, face hidden.
He’s reserved and withdrawn all over again—it must’ve been going downstairs that had him put on the veil again. Arthur relates to that all too well.
Being a part of the gang means putting up a wall. Songs around the campfire are an effective performance when hiding one’s suffering. He would know. He’s been there. With loved ones, but feeling unloved—feeling unlovable. Tainted. Ruined.
Staring distantly at Javier, Arthur blinks, becoming self-aware of his darkening thoughts. And then Javier turns to him.
“Alright, vaquero. I’ll catch you later.” He says this while tucking his shirt into his pants, looking down at him past the curtain of his loose hair, the faintest smirk on his face. Arthur looks up at him, at a loss for words.
“Well, alright. Night, then, amigo.” For some reason, it feels like something’s lacking, and it stirs up Arthur’s heart in an unkind way. His stomach is suddenly a pit.
For a moment, Javier stands there, observing him, hands flexing by his sides. Arthur waits for whatever he’s going to say next.
Surprisingly, the man steps over, leaning over the bed, and tips Arthur’s head back with two fingers curled under his chin. Arthur looks up at him, hands stilling, his heart leaping to an invigorated start.
Javier studies his face with a series of searching glances. He’s so close, close enough Arthur can see the sun damage on his cheeks, the bit of facial hair he missed during a trim under his bottom lip.
His face is a display of tough severity fitting for an outlaw, his eyes dark and dangerous—but now, now that gaze softens just a bit, just for one more moment. Dropping the veil for him.
“Sleep soundly, Arthur.” He leans in to lay a sweet kiss to his mouth. Arthur closes his eyes, but he doesn’t even have the time to reciprocate. Javier pulls away, staring at him for a second longer. Then he’s gone.