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The entire world had to be against him. These days, John constantly found himself wondering just what he’d done to deserve any of this. Everyone was nagging and complaining, nerves taut like never before.
If it wasn’t Dutch spewing big words and commands, it was Abigail. Goddamn Abigail. He loved her, there was no doubt about that. John couldn’t imagine a life without her. With all the good and bad.
It was just that the bad seemed to become unbearable.
She had chewed his ear off all day, her voice rising in frustration when he asked for just a moment of silence. Dutch was never far behind, constantly reminding him of things he planned to take care of on his own time. He could do that; he was an adult for god’s sake.
They were treating him like a child, belittling everything he did, shaking their heads in disappointment when he couldn’t match up to their standards.
He wasn’t Arthur. Fuck, John really wasn’t anywhere close to him.
“Javier.” He approached the man where he sat, noticing the opened bottle of whiskey by his side. As inviting as it seemed, that wasn’t what he had sought the man out for that day.
“You can come to me,” Javier had purred, although drunkenly, clutching onto the back of a chair. “Anytime you need'ta blow off some steam.” They’d been getting drunk by the campfire, had shared all kinds of tales and memories. Javier was good company and his offer had John bristle for a moment.
“What?” He had asked, oblivious, not at all catching onto the way Javier had kept looking at him all night. It was more realistic that Javier had merely offered him to go for a drink whenever he wanted, but his stare alone held entirely different intentions. “You proposin’ me or sumthin’?” The thought had made John cackle, ridiculous as it was.
He stopped the instant Javier drew in a breath to answer, found his dark, dark eyes, pupils impossibly big.
“Yeah,” he had answered, trailing his eyes down John’s body, stopping somewhere around his crotch. Right where John knew his pants were bulging.
The tent was empty, deserted by his fuming wife, left by Jack in favor of more interesting things to see. It was their luck.
John had started to unbutton the other man’s shirt in an instant. He wasn’t careful or tender, his fingers only carried by the burning need within him. His erection was straining the front of his pants, making it too easy to just grind it into Javier.
The other had remained unusually quiet, had went along with John while never opening his mouth to speak. Even now, his hands only slowly came into motion, going right for John’s pants instead of bothering with trivialities. Straight forward, exactly what John had wanted to see.
His erection was out in no time, the other’s calloused fingers wrapping around it. He moved his wrist gingerly, twisting it from time to time, earning breathless little moans from John’s throat.
John pushed the shirt from Javier’s shoulders, tried to take him in with only one glance. The man was beautiful; tightly muscled and slim, tan skin adorned with scars, a trail of dark hair leading down from his navel.
His head dropped lower, tongue lapping at Javier’s neck, his collarbones. He suckled and kissed the skin, eliciting reluctant sounds from the other man now. Spurred on by that alone, he kept venturing lower, breath finally ghosting over an erect nipple.
Before he could take care of it properly though, the hand around his cock squeezed him a whole lot tighter. It was almost painful, certainly enough to make him look up.
Javier pushed him backwards until his ass made contact with the cover of his cot. The man’s gaze was dark again, dark like it had been the first time this subject came up. He shrugged out of his pants, only stepping out of one leg before straddling John’s lap.
John was hit by uncertainty, his hands momentarily unsure of where to rest. He had been aware that he’d fuck Javier by the end of the night, the only thing he wasn’t sure of was how.
Javier didn’t share John’s reluctance. He grabbed for the oil he carried in his pocket, squeezing some of it onto his fingers.
John could do nothing but stare. His wide eyes watched as Javier’s slicked fingers disappeared within himself. He moved them in and out, starting with two at a time. The action was enough to draw some sounds from Javier’s mouth, sounds that did all kinds of things to John’s very own desire.
He had never slept with a man, had never seen one pleasure himself quite like Javier did on top of him. His motions seemed expertly, fingers angling and crooking, hitting spots that made his eyes roll back and his cock twitch.
John craved to be the one making him feel this good. He wanted to see him mount his cock, wanted to give him what his body seemed to need dearly.
“Tha’s it, baby,” he muttered, encaptured by Javier’s fluid movements, by his beautiful body completely on display.
John’s hands moved up his waist, wandering back down to grab at his cheeks. Everything about him felt wonderful, so different from Abigail. He wouldn’t dwell on the pang of guilt he felt at the comparison.
Javier was in control of the pace, he chose when he wanted to stop preparing himself, when he wanted to show some mercy to John’s throbbing cock.
The fingers slipped from his entrance easily, wandering to John’s cock right away and coating him in the remaining lubricant. He jerked the other man a few times, let him buck up into his fist.
“Mmh–, c'mon,” John was holding his breath, his muscles tensing in anticipation.
He squeezed Javier’s cheeks to encourage him, keeping the hold even when he lifted himself over John’s erection. John pressed his eyes shut, exhaling noisily when he felt his cock slide into the other’s heat.
He was eager, eager to rut into the warmth that engulfed him way too slowly, eager to flip Javier onto his stomach and pound him into the bed. Just this once, he wanted to be in control - wanted to show someone that he was capable of something.
Javier swatted at his arms, grumbling in disapproval at John’s tightening grip. “Hands off,” he demanded, pushing John down to his back, sitting enthroned on his cock.
He started moving way too slowly, started to raise his hips mere millimeters before dropping back down again.
The pace only picked up once Javier seemed to have adapted, experimental movements turning into practiced rolling and rocking of his hips. There was no way he hadn’t done this before. His body was too experienced, moving too deliberately for any of this to be new.
“You do this often?” John asked, words tumbling from his lips against his best judgement. He bucked up into the smaller man, showing his appreciation of the tight heat around him. “Sure feels like it,” he noted, his grin only disappearing when Javier quickened his movements.
The other man was moaning wholeheartedly, had apparently found the right way to move his hips and kept angling them just how it felt the best. He was moving in earnest, grasping his cock desperately as he kept fucking himself on John.
John could’ve watched him for hours. Pleasure flooded his body, pooling low in his stomach. It was heaven, but he needed more.
He was swift in his movements, too quick for Javier to raise his voice in complaint as he pulled him against his chest. John snapped his hips upwards and into the smaller man’s body, finally feeling the pleasure he’d yearned for.
His fucking was primal, the sounds coming from his lips more needy than anything else. Javier had spent himself over his chest, orgasming the instant John had manhandled him into this position. He was a whimpering mess in his arms, body trembling with every hit against his core, with every thrust that brushed by his prostate.
His body clenched around John gorgeously, the man’s voice rising into somewhat of a hoarse scream as he seemed to come again.
“Keep cumin’ sweetheart, keep milkin’ me like that,” John’s voice was husky, his teeth grazing against Javier’s earlobe. He wasn’t going to last much longer, feeling his own orgasm approach with incredible force.
Javier seemed to crumble in his arms, whimpering and crying, his former pride gone. “Don’t- not inside,” his pleading went right over John’s head. There had been no way for him to react, his mind too far gone, nothing but bliss swirling through his system.
He pressed as deep into Javier as he could, hips stuttering as he finally spilled inside of him. His body was twitching and jerking, rolling up into the smaller man’s as he painted his insides white.
John could only loosen his hold once the aftershocks of his orgasm had worn off. He was still panting, releasing Javier and letting him slip onto the ground.
His hands shook when he moved them to close his pants. His shirt was stained by Javier’s cum, the fabric sticking to his skin.
While John only had to close his pants again, the other man seemed caught up in a fight of his own. He stared down himself in disbelief, watching the trickle of sperm that ran from his hole to seep into the carpet. John couldn’t quite believe his eyes when he saw the look on his face, when he saw the tears that threatened to spill.
“Estùpido,” Javier stood on wobbly legs, bending down to retrieve the shirt John had previously thrown aside. He closed his pants with aggressively shaking hands, muttering to himself under his breath all the while. “Never been good at pulling out, have you?” He spat, his gaze dangerous and burning when it met John’s.
The guilt hit him harder than any bullet ever could. John had no way to hold Javier back before he disappeared through the tent flaps, had no way to apologize.
He had done something wrong again, had disobeyed and upset the last person who hadn’t hated him yet.
It left John feeling like the greatest fuck-up yet again, reminded him that he still, very certainly wasn’t Arthur.