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“Quite an eventful evening, and yet again, Arthur is the facilitator of our fun, fellas!” Dutch is being loud again, gesturing with a lit cigar in his ring-glinting grasp. “Now, our boy has got to get his rest, so it is time to bid a goodnight!”
Arthur’s still laid up on the makeshift bed on the floor of Dutch’s tent, panting and sweat-slicked, barely finding the energy to lift his gaze, much less his head. With some reluctant goodnight’s, the boys who got a taste of him filter out. As he leaves, Micah hoots a sarcastic remark that Arthur don’t even catch, Sean cackles like an idiot as he follows him out, hollering about how much he loves Arthur boy. Bill’s still struggling to fix up his pants, and John pauses at the tent flap, laying eyes on Arthur one more time before he’s gone. Only Charles lingers to regard him with a calm, steady gaze, crouching to card his hand through his sweat-damp hair. Arthur sags back bonelessly, sighing with tired delight at the touch.
“You okay?” The man’s deep voice is such a profound comfort, and Arthur can’t even comprehend why it is. Words fail him.
Behind Arthur, Dutch, perched in his chair like a king upon his throne, puffs on his cigar.
“He is okay,” he drawls. Charles flicks his eyes up towards Dutch, nods, yet he still does not go.
“With all due respect, I would appreciate hearing it from Arthur.”
“M’good,” Arthur murmurs, voice heavy, hollow from all the moanin’ and screamin’ he’d just done. “Right as rain, my friend.”
“Truly?”
Charles, the worrywart. And a big ol’ softie. Arthur smiles weakly and reaches out to squeeze him on the wrist.
“Truly,” he says.
Charles nods. He stands again, boots creaking. “Goodnight, then. Arthur, Dutch.”
Without waiting for a response, the man turns and ducks out of the tent. Arthur moves to sit up, grunting. His ass is pulsating, throbbing deep inside in the best way. He looks up at Dutch, finding him immaculately composed, a pleased little smirk on his face. As usual, he did not partake in the fun, he merely acted as overseer. Arthur satisfies the man only in private.
“Let’s get you washed up and to bed, hm?” Dutch says, gruff as ever, putting his cigar out in the ashtray beside him with a few hard grinds. He stands, stepping past the layers of blankets and pillows on the floor, retrieving the basin of water he must’ve put in the corner in advance—or maybe that was Hosea.
“Next time, maybe don’t let Micah act like a wild goddamn animal,” Arthur sighs, stretching his spine with his hands braced against his lower back, grimacing. “Man ain’t got no self-control.”
“I considered it,” Dutch remarks, placing the basin beside Arthur, his voice a deep scratch. “But I knew you could handle it. Regardless, you’ve banned him from these nights for the last few months, Arthur. Man had his due.”
Arthur frowns, remembering Micah pinning him to the floor and screwing him viciously hard, laughing as Arthur growled and cursed into the blankets. Charles was the one that angrily told him off, threatening to throw him out of the tent if he didn’t take it easy. And that started a whole exchange between the two men while Micah continued to fuck him—albeit at a more considerate rate. Arthur can only imagine the expression on Charles’ face. Must’ve scared Micah real good—pictured his fate, beat to a pulp in front of everybody with his prick out.
“Guess so,” he says, just to give Dutch a response. Dutch pats him on the shoulder. Then he leans down to plant a sweet, mustache-tickling kiss to his flushed cheek.
“The stars are especially bountiful tonight, and they’re calling for me. You can sleep in here, or in your tent, whatever suits my darling boy best.”
Arthur says nothing, made coy by his words, but Dutch does not find this unusual. He ruffles his hair and then promptly steps out of the tent, leaving Arthur on his lonesome. Just fine by him. He don’t much like having Dutch watch while he cleans his ass.
After wiping down his sweaty body (oh, how good that cool water feels), Arthur then squats and begins bearing down. It takes a while to push all the semen out, wiping himself clean every time a thick dollop rolls out of him, but eventually, it stops coming. He slaps the soiled rag into the basin of water, sighing, and then washes his genitals with soapy water. When he stands, his back immediately throbs. Wincing, Arthur grabs his union suit and gingerly steps into it.
He hears Micah chatting away by the campfire, laughing with Bill and Pearson over some asinine shit, but besides that, the camp is dead silent. Arthur trudges over to his tent—blessedly, he’d recently gotten his own canvas tent that gives him some modicum of privacy. Would have to have one that comes with privacy, otherwise being the gang’s plaything would be a helluva lot more difficult.
Each step is a reminder. His ass is still a bit sore, tender, and his back is hurtin’ like he’d just hauled two dozen bales of hay. Either way, regret is seldom felt when it comes to fuckin’, and that stands true now. Inside his tent, Arthur lights up his lamp, casting a soft glow of warm orange throughout the space. He begins setting up his bed for sleep, yawning powerfully enough his head tips back from the force of it.
Suddenly, he hears footsteps making their way to his tent. Arthur tiredly thinks peace and quiet is rarer than a happy whore.
“Arthur?”
Javier. He couldn’t help but notice the man’s absence earlier. Arthur clears his throat, placing down his pillow and patting it. He takes a seat on his cot, leaning forward to brace his arms against his knees.
“Yeah. Come on in.”
Javier slips in, barely disturbing the canvas. He’s lacking the bowler hat, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, showing muscular forearms dusted with dark hair. His vest fits snug to his torso, showing off his figure, his waist. Arthur looks him up and down, appreciative.
Javier, in a nervous gesture that Arthur has come to recognize, runs his fingers against his nose, sniffing, and nods in greeting.
“Evening.”
“What can I do ya for?” Arthur cuts to the chase.
Javier shifts on his feet, hands on his hips. He, again, touches at his face in a clear sign of restlessness; he runs his fingertips down the patch of facial hair under his bottom lip before stroking at his jaw, fingers closing around his chin. He observes Arthur with hopeful eyes and raised eyebrows.
“Was hopin’ you’d put out for one more tonight.”
Arthur would bet his breeches that Dutch isn’t actually watching the stars—he went out to tell Javier it’s his turn, and he’ll take over perimeter watch. After all, every single one of Dutch’s boys gotta be happy. Not that Arthur’s complaining. The mere idea of Javier fucking him is making him warm, his cock already half-way to hard in his union suit.
Tilting his head, Arthur runs his hands up and down his thighs, shrugging once. Smacking his lips, he says, “Yeah, sure, why not?”
He doesn’t waste time in unbuttoning and stepping out of his remaining modesty, naked as the day he was born. His cock hangs heavy and flushed between his legs, betraying his enthusiasm. Javier seems invigorated by this. He looks at Arthur with his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes bouncing across his body, devouring.
“How you want me?” Arthur drawls, bringing a hand to his cock, stroking at himself slowly, working his foreskin nice and tight around the head. Javier stares, hypnotized in that moment, his eyes flashing with both odd shyness and burning lust. He then clears his throat and gestures to the cot with a clumsy hand.
“The–uh–there, the—the bed—er, the cot. Mierda.” Javier shakes his head at himself, laughing nervously. “Just, get on your back, knees up, y’know?”
Arthur smiles to himself, turning to obey.
“Well, shit, if you got me on my back, I ain’t gonna complain about nothin’.”
“Oh, don’t worry, pequeño,” Javier says as he begins clumsily unbuckling his belt, giggling that cackling laugh of his that tells Arthur he’s had a shot or two before coming over here. “I’ll take care of it all. Of… of you.”
Well, ain’t that sweet? Arthur would find it more charming if Javier wasn’t so awkward. He can’t help but grin anyways.
“Always the gentleman,” he teases, dropping down onto the cot. Shame has been fucked out of him long ago, more or less. He shuffles down until he’s comfortable and then opens his legs, knees up as Javier said.
Javier pauses with his hands on the button to his pants. He takes in this view, mouth slack, eyes hazy, roaming over him. Arthur grabs the underside of his knees, shifts until his back is at a comfortable angle, and waits for Javier to do whatever he wants. His asshole is still well-fucked, swollen. Arthur can feel it, and Javier, surely, can see as much.
“You—did you, er, did you clean…” Javier’s tongue flicks across his lips, eyes wild. Arthur laughs lowly.
“If I didn’t, it’d be a lot messier than it is now, amigo.”
Javier stepping up and moving to kneel at the cot isn’t really what Arthur expected, but then again, out of all of the boys, Javier often uses his mouth the most. Likes to worship a bit before taking his fill, Arthur learned long ago.
Javier braces both hands on Arthur’s asscheeks, pushing them apart to get a good look at his hole. Arthur feels some heat tingling in his face at that, his brow furrowing as embarrassment strikes him. He bites his lip, watching Javier admire with sparkling eyes and a sly smirk. In the low light of the lamp, Javier peers up at him past his loose hair while leaning in to lay a wet, tongue-drifting kiss against one asscheek. When he speaks, it comes out hoarse, breathless. “Looks like a pussy…”
Then he drifts a thumb across it, eyes tracking the movement. Arthur can’t help but clench up, a hitched breath catching in his throat. Javier groans, and then he laughs.
“Ahhh, corazón, the things I’m gonna do to you…” Blazing eyes peer up at him as Javier suddenly flicks his tongue up between his asscheeks, grazing the wrinkled, pink skin of his loose hole. Arthur’s legs flex, his hands tightening around his knees, a grunt punched out of him. A flow of hot, liquid sugar pulsates in his groin; his cock throbs, trapped against the rolls of his belly. Javier grins at him, resting his cheek to his ass, his skin rough against him with developing facial hair.
Alright, Arthur thinks to himself, he’d definitely slammed a couple shots before this.
“If you’ll let me,” he adds, soft as a feather. “Can I, Arthur? Do what I want?”
Cute.
Arthur huffs a chortling laugh, amused.
“Javier, you’re the first man that’s asked for my permission tonight. Yeah, darlin’. Do whatever you want.”
“Oh, great, good, thank you, Arthur…” Javier breathes. His hot exhale gusts across Arthur’s asscheek as he turns his face in to bury it into his crack.
Without a second to waste, he gets a good taste of him by dragging the flat width of his tongue from his tailbone to his flexing hole. Arthur can’t repress the startled grunt that flies out of him, his toes clenching, eyes flashing wide. Jesus Christ. He still can’t believe Javier, of all people, engages in this sort of thing. It’s so filthy—depraved, perverse—but that must be why he likes it. Hell, part of why Arthur likes it now, too, he reckons.
Javier begins mouthing wet and warm over his puffy rim, his breaths hot and heavy against him, his facial hair scratching. Hands gripping Arthur’s clenched asscheeks, he keeps him spread to access him easier.
The sharp pleasure ringing through Arthur is fucking amazing—his hole is especially tender after withstanding the relentless pounding earlier, it makes the feeling of Javier’s tongue so much sweeter. Oh, Christ, does it feel good.
“Oh, goddamn,” Arthur pants heavily, bringing one hand down to curl it at the back of Javier’s neck, fingers gripping his orange necktie. He can feel the muscles in his neck flex as Javier works his jaw and mouth, sucking and mouthing at his throbbing hole so damn intently Arthur’s shaking within the first minute of it.
Javier’s open belt noisily jingles when he shifts on his feet, getting into a more comfortable position, evidently; he relaxes slightly, his shoulders not so tense, hands releasing such a tight grip of his asscheeks, only gently spreading him now. His desperate sucking and mouthing slows to a gradual, indulgent eating, his eyes flashing up to Arthur’s, brow knit. Arthur pulls his cock and balls out of the way to get a better view of Javier’s face buried into his ass, his nose to his taint.
“Jesus C-Christ–hhhn!” Arthur’s hand tightens around Javier’s collar as the man finally pushes his tongue into his ass, breathing hot and heavy against his crack as he does. Head lolling back, Arthur groans long and low, eyes squeezing shut as disbelief hits him. How does it feel so damn good? The sweet, pulsing pleasure in his ass is unbelievably intense.
Javier doesn’t stop there. He repeatedly pushes his tongue in and out, working it back and forth past the rim of his hole, stopping only to lick over him indulgently, huffing and moaning softly. He sucks and swirls his tongue all across his swollen, tender hole—then he plunges his tongue right back in. Whimpery moans start to spill out of Arthur, shameless, unfiltered.
Arthur can’t fucking take it anymore.
“N-need—nhhhnn…” The train immediately derails, his brain turning to mush as Javier mouths and licks into him so damn eagerly, like this is all he’s wanted all night. Javier pulls back to look at him, stroking his thumb over the wet, swollen pucker of his hole, catching his breath.
“What do you need? Tell me, Arthur.”
Arthur hesitates, lips pressing tight together, eyes flashing with a coyness he shouldn’t be feeling, not with this man. Javier grins like a wolf, the liquor in his system showing in the way he laughs and boldly runs his scarred hands up over Arthur’s thighs, to his belly, stroking over the rolls there to grab at his hairy chest. Arthur goes limp, sagging back into his cot, his mind intoxicated with the fantasy of Javier sinking his cock into him, fucking him hard, using him for all he’s worth.
“Move on,” Arthur manages to grit out, heaving a few heavy breaths. “C’mon. Got me all worked up… put it in… Want it…”
Javier drags his hands down his front, calluses rough against his furred skin. Arthur then hears the rustling of him opening up his pants. That has him lifting his head to watch. Javier looks mighty pleased, smirking as he is, eyes glinting.
“Anything you want, baby,” he murmurs, a slight slur slipping into his words. So used to dirty talk as he is, Arthur doesn’t even blink at the pet name. What he does blink at is the sight of Javier’s rock-hard dick through his drawers, pushing the fabric out obscenely. God, yes.
It flips up in a rigid snap when Javier pulls everything down. His belt jingles noisily when he throws his pants and underwear aside. The man just has the patience to open up his vest and the white shirt underneath, showing his flat stomach, the dark hair layered across his chest, his firm belly, leading down straight to his cock. His dick, so pretty and red, dripping, stands tall from the bush of hair at his groin.
“Jesus,” Arthur groans, panting like a dog in heat. “You’re… you’re one of them seven goddamn wonders, Javier.” He can’t help but huff a breathless laugh at his own comment, but, shit, Javier is sexy.
Javier’s grin fades and he looks at Arthur with surprise on his face.
“I hope that’s a good thing, amigo.”
“Very good,” Arthur laughs. “Now get over here.”
“Whatever you say, Arthur,” Javier says past a giggle. He strokes at himself twice in a tight fist, catching his bottom lip between his teeth while stepping up close to Arthur. Arthur reaches out to grab fistfuls of his remaining clothing, pulling it off his arms roughly, and Javier allows it, laughing yet again. Arthur throws the vest and shirt on the ground, eyes roving over the other man’s naked chest, his biceps, his narrowing waist.
“Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Javier gives him a stupid wink. Teasing little shit. God, he’s so goddamn embarrassin’.
Stifling his own grin, Arthur pushes him firmly on the chest, a bit petulantly, and then lays back down. Snickering, Javier steps up close again, bends his knees to line up and rub the head of his cock against Arthur’s slick hole. Arthur’s hand flies to his own hard dick, gripping himself. A moan rolls up out of him. Javier lets out a pleased, heaved sigh as he just barely works the tip back and forth over the abused rim of his hole.
“Gonna fuck you good, amor. Wanna hear you whimpering like you were earlier. You know I was touching myself out in the trees, listening to you gettin’ it good from the other boys.”
Arthur can’t help but laugh again, head tipping back. “Javier, stop talkin’ ‘bout it and do it, ya goddamn tease.”
“Mmm, you’re right.”
Finally, Javier begins to push in nice and slow, letting Arthur feel every inch as it sinks into him. Arthur’s toes clench, his hands tightening from where they’re gripping his cock, his own thigh. Javier huffs and grunts above him like an animal, guiding his cock in with a grip of his roughened fingers, until his hands snap up to grab at the underside of Arthur’s knees, squeezing hard. He pushes in hard, far from reluctant to pack in balls-deep. Euphoric tingling begins to spread through Arthur’s entire body, his groin pulsating with heat.
“Ohhhh, Jesus Christ… That’s it…” Pride is the easiest thing for Arthur to let go of when he’s got a cock in him. Eyes barely cracked open to appreciate this view of Javier between his legs, Arthur’s voice emerges from him hoarse and in long, heavy drawls. “Mmnn… feels good, Javier. C’mon, cowboy. Fuck me. Give it to me good.”
Javier seems to lose the steam it took to talk. Already a quiet feller, the man goes silent as he begins to screw him into the cot—but soon enough, rather than words, his mouth falls slack and long, loose moans begin to roll from him, sweet and syrupy.
“There yo–you go,” Arthur pants out, watching hazily as Javier snaps his hips forward into him, those scar tissue hands gripping hard at his big thighs. For only a moment longer, Arthur watches that smaller, lean body working between his legs, that belly clenching from the effort—but can’t support the weight of his own head anymore.
Dropping back down, going fully gelatinous, Arthur simply enjoys the feeling of Javier’s cock working in and out of him, the slap of his balls to his ass. He strokes himself through it, low, rumbling moans unending in his chest, reverberating. Even those aren’t loud enough to mask the obscenely wet squelch of Javier’s cock pumping into him over and over, fucking him deep on every stroke. This has Javier breathing out another harsh laugh, hands skirting up the man’s calves to grip him by the ankles, keeping his legs hiked. Javier speaks in breathless gasps, laughter woven.
“S-so—so wet. Who fucked you? How many? You say you cleaned yourself, but I can feel it dripping on me, you filthy putito.”
Arthur manages a rumbling chuckle, broken by hitched breaths and pleased, choked moans. He lifts his head to look at Javier with a weak gaze, red-faced and hazy. Javier is wide-eyed, flushed, too, his mouth slack. His loose hair is clinging to his jaw with sweat. Goddamn, ain’t he a sight for sore eyes?
He slows down, breathing hard and heavy, saddles up close to Arthur, burying in fully, hands releasing his legs to instead grip him by his hips, thumbs digging in. Staying deep, Javier begins to thrust slightly, just enough to stimulate them both as he watches Arthur aptly, eager to hear what he’d missed.
And that about ruins Arthur. Eyes rolling, Arthur drops his head back, shaking slightly as he feels every damn inch of Javier sit inside of his ass, working back and forth just slightly. Holy fuckin’ shit. Mind scrambled, Arthur moans low and long, shakily stroking at himself. Javier chuckles.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, tell me. Spit it out.”
He stops fucking him for a moment, simply sitting in him, hands roaming over his belly rolls, touching sweat and soft body hair. It’s enough to allow Arthur coherent thought. Sighing heavily, Arthur closes his eyes, brow furrowing.
“Well, Dutch’s always first. Then the other fellers came…” Damn, it’s hard to even think straight with Javier inside him like this, even if unmoving. “First was, shit—I-I think Sean. Shoots quick, he does. Then... John, Micah, Charles, mmm, uhm, Sean went again. Then Bill was last—oh, goddamn!”
Javier had recovered his energy; he begins to pound him hard, shoving Arthur's legs up with his hands under his knees, pinning him to the cot.
“Fuck, it gets me goin’, hearing how many men ruined you before me,” Javier pants out with a succeeding snarl, eyes wide and wild. “Must’ve listened to you gettin’ fucked for hours, standing out there. Torture, Arthur. Torture. I was—hnnn—s-so close to just—ah, abandoning my post—could only—think about you under me, squealin’ like you were—!”
Arthur strokes at himself tight and quick, eyes clenched shut, legs coiled up and trembling from where Javier’s got them pinned. His groin is hot and the tension is rising, rising, peaking so quickly as Javier fucks into him hard and fast, cock driving into him, working over his prostate—and that’s enough.
“Fuuuck!” Arthur groans low, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. “Fuck, mmnn, nnnh! I’m close, I’m c-c—ah, fuck!”
Desperate and wild, Arthur shakily works his fist over his pulsing cock, other hand gripping his balls as he begins to shoot, fat droplets raining on his hairy chest, his clenching belly. Javier is moaning too, a beautiful sound that carries Arthur through his climax. And then it comes, his favorite moment—Javier’s cock gets that much harder in his ass, stiffening, and those hands around his knees squeeze him to the point of pain.
Some men finish quietly when they fuck him, but Javier is not one of those men. He curses loudly and releases a slew of slurred Spanish while pumping into him, his entire body trembling much like Arthur’s did. He’s dripping with sweat, his chest and muscled stomach clenched and heaving, glistening. Arthur feels the gush of something hot inside of him.
“Goddamn…” he breathes, sneaking a shaky hand around to palm at Javier’s balls, gripping him there. Javier twitches, an alarmed little moan jolting from him. Arthur chuckles, looking up at his dazed face as he kneads him—it encourages Javier to thrust a little bit more, prolonging the pleasure, the feeling of letting go. Arthur removes his hand and promptly goes completely lax, hands resting limply on the cot by his sides.
Javier pulls out slowly—Arthur is so damn slick down there, he barely feels it. Javier keeps his legs open to watch himself do so, Arthur dazedly realizes.
“Ah, Dios, Arthur,” Javier breathes, and then the man laughs. Arthur breathes deeply, his body buzzing with sensation, with swimming endorphins. He feels Javier’s seed begin to drip out of him, but it could just as easily be someone else’s. Javier could’ve fucked what’s left out of him. Javier leans in over him, all skinny muscle, and plants a drunken kiss to his forehead. Arthur can’t help but laugh.
“You drunk idiot,” he mutters, pushing him away by the chest. Javier grins, so damn satisfied with himself. He roams his hands, calloused and strong, across Arthur’s big thighs. He turns his head to kiss him on the knee. Arthur lets him, silent and coy. Javier looks at him slyly, eyes glinting.
“Gracias, Arthur. Muchas gracias. A giving man, aren’t you, putito?”
“I gotta lot to give,” Arthur dryly jokes. Javier cackles a sharp laugh. Both hands come down to slap his ass hard, grabbing him. “Si, you sure do, don’t you?”
Arthur blinks dazedly. Now, he ain’t never voiced how much he likes bein’ hit, but damn, maybe he could, with Javier— But maybe not. The man’s just buzzed.
“Alright, get off me, cowboy,” Arthur says, nudging him off. Javier obeys and takes a step back, giving him some room, grinning.
Arthur glances down to see his cock coated with a mixture of fluids. Arthur don’t got a rag in here, so…
He slips off the cot and kneels in front of the man. Javier looks down at him, all flushed cheeks and wide eyes, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. If anything, he’s cute when he’s drunk. Ain’t got a damn thought in that echoing head.
“Let me get’chu cleaned up, then you can go on yer way,” Arthur mutters, taking it in hand. Javier gives him one of ‘em drunken little giggles, but says nothing. Leaning in, bowing his broad back to reach him, Arthur sucks his softening length into his mouth. Shuffling closer on his knees, Arthur grabs him by his thighs and holds him still. Above him, Javier moans, muttering Spanish under his breath. Hands find his hair, gripping the curls.
Javier tastes strongly like spunk, obviously. Arthur sucks him clean, working his mouth back and forth, suction tight, tongue sweeping. Javier starts grunting like he's in pain, his breathing hitching sharply—Arthur can tell he’s had enough. He pulls off slowly, letting his softening dick pop from his mouth. Arthur peeks up at him, stroking his hands up and down those lean thighs.
“Ah, Jesus, Arthur. Eres asombroso, mi amor,” Javier pants heavily, looking down at him with fire in his eyes. “Beautiful man.”
How sweet. Ain’t new to him, gettin’ handed such a compliment, but it still stirs up warmth in his belly coming from Javier.
With a slight grimace, Arthur stands, his knees sore. He wipes off his mouth and then promptly drops back down onto the cot, cleaning up be damned. He’s scrubbed seed out of his blankets before, whatever. He’s exhausted.
“Alright, Javier... I need me some shuteye. I’d offer you to stay, but this cot is as big as Micah’s prick.”
Amongst the clicks of him getting redressed, Arthur hears Javier cackle his coyote laugh.
“If that were the case, you’d be sleeping on the ground, no? But no worries, amorcito. The memory of you will keep me warm in my own bed.”
Arthur shakes his head, turning onto his side, laughing under his breath.
“Got a serpent for a tongue, don’t you, amigo?”
Javier hums drunkenly from behind him.
“You inspire poetry, Arthur. Blame the muse, not the artist.”
Arthur startles slightly when Javier steps up just to lay a kiss to his temple, hand resting on his bare back. He turns to stare at him with mild surprise on his face, looking him up and down. Javier’s actin’ mighty bold. Not often the men show him tenderness—excepting Charles, and maybe John, if it’s goin’ well.
Javier must become aware of his behavior, because he gives him an impish grin, shoulders high.
“Ay, don’t look at me like that. Worked my cock so well, how can a man simply walk out after that?”
Arthur rolls his eyes. Javier laughs. He reaches out to ruffle his hair. Arthur weakly swats at his hand like it’s a particularly annoying mosquito—always wanting more, sucking him dry. Javier runs his thumb along the back of Arthur’s ear, murmuring, “Buenas noches, corazón.”
Arthur whacks his hand away with more force, blushing now.
“Night, Javier.”