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It was the sort of game they played, with unspoken rules and immeasurably high stakes. One would tempt the other, who could do nothing but watch and hope no one else caught on to what they were up to.
Sometimes this was done from across camp, while out on a job, or so close they could reach out and touch each other, however, neither ever dared to cross that threshold until they were certain they were alone. It was thrilling, in a way. The other never knew when the next game would occur, though it was almost always obvious when one started and it was all an unspoken admission to something greater between them.
Today, it was Javier who provoked John.
Shadowed beneath the foliage of a large tree not too far from John, Javier stood with his back braced against its trunk, seeking refuge under the cool shade. John himself was seated on a stump, his saddle in his lap and a coarse brush in hand. By contrast, the only reprieve from the sun he had was from under the narrow brim of his hat. The warm saddle under his hands felt comforting versus the scorched fabric of his shirt.
Sweat stung the heated skin of John’s neck as he tended to the dusty, beaten leather. He grasped the horn with one hand and used the other to scrub the seat of the saddle. His gaze was fixed on his own ministrations until something in the back of his mind gnawed at him, telling him to sneak a glance at Javier from under his hat.
John didn’t know when he undid the first three buttons of his dress shirt, revealing the faintest expanse of tan skin. Javier was, of course, feigning ignorance and didn’t seem to acknowledge his staring—anything to maintain the façade. Damn him.
He also didn’t notice when Javier pulled out his knife.
John looked down when he felt the brush catch on a particularly stubborn patch of grime. Pausing to roll up his sleeves and wipe the sweat from his brow, he reminisced on their previous ‘game’ where John was the provoker, not Javier.
That day, John was feeling a mixture of emotions but was mostly pent up in a way that only messing with Javier would satisfy. His chosen avenue was chopping wood, a task that he was nagged enough about doing anyway. More importantly, it was an innocent task that he, the performer he is, absolutely hammed up. It had been a net-positive—it kept the taskmasters of the camp off his back and kept Javier’s eyes on him.
Though not unusual, the air surrounding camp had been particularly thick and humid that day, so John slowly peeled off the layers concealing his torso—to cool down, of course. No other reason, at least, to anyone except Javier. He made eye contact with him only once or twice, relishing in the focused look in the other man’s narrowed eyes.
Each swing of the axe was pointed with some sort of grunt, just loud enough to keep the other man’s attention. Sometimes he paused to push back the strands of hair stuck to his damp forehead and wipe his brow. When he was done chopping, John bundled up the wood in the carrier, hoisting the heft of his labor up over his shoulder with a quiet groan. No one paid him any mind but Javier, who was just trying to eat stew by the campfire.
Javier entered John’s tent later that night, bending him over and asserting he ‘wasn’t so big and tough now.’ John suppressed the shiver that tried to reverberate up his spine.
Working his way through the muck, John’s eyes flicked back over to Javier, not expecting to see a pair of dark eyes staring at his direction from behind strands of black hair, returning the favor. Only Javier’s gaze never met John’s, instead it fixated on John’s hands and the thick veins threatening to burst out from under his pinkened skin, the flexing and tightening of his forearms.
Excitement fluttered in John’s stomach; he liked when Javier’s eyes were on him. All that is beautiful in the world, and Javier only wanted to look at him.
Absent-mindedly twirling the thin blade between his fingers, Javier used his other hand to rummage through his pockets in search of something, eventually pulling out a small tin.
Tilting his head down, Javier’s hat and the tendrils of hair framing his cheeks concealed most of his face. All John could see was how he placed the handle of his knife between his lips, freeing his other hand to pop the lid off. Throat suddenly dry, he swallowed as Javier dragged two fingers into the tin, coating them in thick tallow. Effortlessly provocative.
John smirked as he shook his head to himself, grazing his teeth over his bottom lip before returning his attention to the task in his lap. He tried to ignore the stir in his groin currently fogging his brain, although his chore was not nearly as interesting as whatever the hell Javier was currently doing.
Moving downward to brush the pommel and skirt of the saddle, John leaned his torso towards one side to scrub at a better angle. This way, he could also steal another glance at Javier, who was now grasping the knife with his clean hand. It was then that John realized what he was really getting at.
Javier slotted the blade between his greased fingers and slid them up and down, coating the glinting metal. He parted his pretty lips and tilted his head up to lock eyes with John. His nonchalance was maddening most of all; Javier knew just how to push him.
Like an animal on high alert, John briefly tore his eyes away to quickly dart around the camp, just to see if anyone was wise to what they were up to. Of course, everyone was too engrossed in their own business to notice or care what they did, thankfully.
Not wanting to miss too much more, John brought his attention back to Javier while passively scrubbing his saddle just to keep up the act. Javier had placed the newly greased blade between his lips once more to pull out his sharpening stone, coating it with the remaining tallow on his fingers and palm.
Once again Javier hid his face from John as he brought down the knife and dropped his hands to drape comfortably over his hips. John’s breath hitched in his chest as Javier began to scrape the stone against the blade of the knife, watching the way his entire body tensed and relaxed with each movement. Javier’s broad shoulders slacked, giving way to the weight of the tools in his hands.
To the casual observer, this was a completely innocuous action—just a man sharpening his knife. It almost pushed outside the realm of normalcy and Javier always toed that line with him.
To John, it ignited a flame deep in his gut, burning too hot to ignore. At the very least, he was thankful for the saddle across his lap.
All of this was to entice him and test his patience, test the blood that dared to drain and pool southward. The way the stone languidly glided against the slick metal of the blade—and why there, of all places, did Javier have to hang his hands? It was all so incredibly maddening.
John’s flush could be explained by the heat and the exertion of force given to clean his saddle, at the very least. It definitely wasn’t from the way Javier’s teeth began to worry at his bottom lip as his hand sped up. Every so often, he would pause to inspect his work with a quirked brow and John caught every movement from under the shadow of his hat.
This charade seemed to go on for ages, completely setting John on edge. He wondered what would come next, if anything at all. It was never a guarantee, however, that was part of the fun.
Finally, Javier ceased, seemingly satisfied with either the knife or how riled up he likely knew John was getting. Knowing him, probably both. Javier was never one to drag things out unnecessarily, everything had a purpose, but he always knew how long it took to drive John up a wall. As Javier sheathed his knife, John quickly returned his eyes to the hands working his saddle.
There he was, half-hard in the middle of camp, and all John wanted to do was stomp over to where Javier was standing and throttle him to the ground.
Curious, he tilted his gaze up towards the other man’s direction just in time to catch Javier pushing himself off the trunk of the tree and turning towards the thick, overgrown woods surrounding camp, disappearing from sight.
Well, there was John’s answer: wherever Javier went, John followed.
-
Around fifteen or so minutes had passed by the time John finally finished brushing his saddle. He lifted it off his lap as he stood and walked it over to where Old Boy was grazing with the other horses, using the saddle to shield his groin. The whole thing was so juvenile.
Pausing to glance yet again around the camp—once again, no one was looking at him—he walked in the approximate direction Javier took, pushing through leafy branches and shrubs.
John wandered for a bit, the sounds of camp getting further away from his ears and were replaced with the shrill cries of cicadas. Growing nervous when there was no sign of the other man anywhere, John wondered if Javier didn’t wait for him to finish his chore or if he simply left to go do something else.
Making sure he wasn’t followed, John intermittently looked over his shoulder as he continued searching for Javier, glancing around tree trunks and passing through foliage before coming to a small grassy clearing surrounded by trees. A lone hickory stood towards the edge of the other side of the clearing and John walked in its direction. Placing a hand on the rugged trunk, he paused, contemplating his next move.
A breeze blew through him and suddenly John smelled a familiar perfume. Before his mind had a chance to catch up, he felt the pointed end of a blade jabbing the small of his back and emitted a short hiss. Javier.
Javier hummed with a sweetness that starkly contrasted the sharp edge prodding through John’s thin shirt. “Think you were starin’,” he accused, his voice a soft purr. The surprise of it all made one of John’s knees jerk forward.
He chuckled nervously. “Don’t think I know what you mean, friend,” John lied as heat creeped up the back of his neck. He had no idea what was going on—if this was a game or if Javier was just messing with him, not that there was much of a difference between those two options.
Angling the knife between their bodies, Javier pressed into John’s backside to whisper in his ear, his desire now made evident. It was dizzying to say the least, and John’s own confused arousal blossomed and swirled in the lowest pit of his stomach. Unsure of what to do with himself, John merely stayed put, only raising his hands in an attempt at playing along.
“Oh, I think you do know,” Javier whispered. Not giving John a chance to respond, Javier quickly spun John around by his shoulder to face him, pinning the other man to the large hickory tree.
John yelped as his head hit the trunk, his hat fell to the ground by his feet and the jagged bark snagged his hair. Javier’s newly-sharpened blade was now flat against John’s throat, the metal cooled the skin there. If it weren’t for Javier’s forearm bracing John against the tree by his chest, he’d probably fall to his knees right then and there.
“Gettin’ brave, amigo. What if someone noticed you staring?” Javier asked, looking up at John through his eyelashes with a heady stare.
John swallowed and felt the edge of the blade scrape against the skin of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed. The dark look in Javier’s eyes both frightened and thrilled him. John knew he wasn’t in any danger, but he could see how scary Javier could be to anyone else. His abdominal muscles clenched with anticipation and both hands clawed at the bark of the tree, supposing he couldn't touch Javier but so badly wishing he could.
“You did, that’s all that matters,” John replied, earnestly. His response earned a smirk from Javier and John caught the faint blush that tinged his cheeks as he turned his head away to snort—god, he was handsome, even when he was holding John at knifepoint.
John couldn’t fight his rapidly hardening cock, straining tighter against the fabric of his trousers. Perhaps it was just how vulnerable he was here that really sold it to him; he felt out of control.
He wondered if Javier had ever done this before with someone else, if it ended with him actually slitting their throat. John noted the scar bisecting Javier’s own throat daring to peek above his necktie; something similar certainly happened to him long ago. Though, likely under different, less arousing circumstances.
His thoughts were interrupted by Javier rocking his pelvis forward against John’s, their clothed groins pressed between their hips. It wasn’t nearly enough and John let out a quiet groan. Javier’s gaze remained steeled and piercing, pretending to not be affected by the situation. Of course, they both knew better.
Javier leaned forward, his lips ghosting against John’s. As he did, John winced when he felt the edge of the blade scrape his skin, giving a pained grunt before Javier eased up the pressure.
John was itching to surge forward and kiss Javier, but the knife against his neck and the arm across his chest kept him frustratingly still. It was almost unbearable; he felt like a caged animal, pacing its enclosure, agitated. His heart rate increased and blood pounded loudly in his ear, nearly deafening the cicadas. He wondered if Javier could hear it.
“Do you always get this aroused when someone pulls a knife on you?” Javier teased, somehow pressing even closer and making John’s head spin.
John bit down on his bottom lip and gave a lop-sided grin, feeling coy. “I certainly don’t make it a habit,” he responded, coolly. Or, as cool as he could manage with the way his entire body was heating up. Javier snickered despite himself, his laugh tickling the wavy hair framing John’s face and causing his heart to nearly leap out of his chest.
For a moment, John forgot what they were doing there, forgot about the knife that had brought all of his movements to a screeching halt. Suddenly they were two young, coquettish lovers flirting and teasing secretly in the woods. His grip on the trunk of the tree behind him tightened, digging his fingertips into the bark. The tree and Javier’s arm were the only things keeping him from floating away entirely to that passing fantasy.
Javier pulled his lower body off of him but kept his blade at John’s neck and his face close. John whined low in his chest in frustration, absentmindedly curling his hips upward in a pathetic attempt to get that feeling back. He could feel the fabric of his trousers dampen from the leaking head of his cock.
“Fuck, Javier, come on—” John was interrupted by the quick movement of Javier’s hand followed by the feeling of the flat side of the knife grazing his scarred cheek.
It was kind of weird; he obviously knew the blade was there but the parts of his face where the wolves had gotten to him were still somewhat numb; the damage there went far deeper beyond the surface of his skin. He didn’t want to receive any more scars—he didn’t need any more. Even so, the thought of Javier marking him permanently as if he were a branded horse made his cock throb.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours; Javier scrutinized him under his gaze while John was unbearably aroused, craving the slightest touch. His breath came out shallow and frequent, a testament to the desperation he felt. The knife kept him obedient despite knowing he could easily overpower Javier, hold him against the tree at knifepoint, drive him insane.
Javier leaned away to get a good look at John as he slid a knee between his thighs, eliciting a choking gasp from him. John kept as still as he could manage while Javier raked the blade down his jaw and back over his pulsating jugular.
Holding his breath, John waited for a sharp snag of the blade that never came. He was nearly driven mad from the constant push and pull alone, wishing Javier would just get on with it.
Just when John tilted his hips to rut downward, the knee against his groin went away. He let his head fall back against the bark of the tree, emitting a displeased mnh from behind the tight, thin line of his lips.
Javier completely pulled away from him and, with a skilled twirl of his fingers, slipped his knife back into its sheath. Lacking the support of Javier’s body against his, John completely slacked against the tree, pathetically waiting for whatever else Javier had in store for him. But, he merely took a few steps back.
His head snapped forward at the sound of foliage crunching under Javier’s feet. “Where—” John started, his voice coming out rather hoarse from how dry his throat had gotten. “Where the hell’re you goin’?” That got an actual laugh from Javier, who seemed to relish in lighting John on fire and standing back as he held a bucket of water.
Javier covered his barking mouth with the back of his hand, the same hand that was wielding a knife at John’s throat mere moments ago. John huffed in annoyance, scowling at the other man.
He resumed his teasing, chuckling through his words, “Dios mío, cabrón, you seem a little strung out.” Always, always baiting John.
Something was currently threatening to boil over within him—either rage or lust, John couldn’t identify, but he knew this was exactly what Javier wanted. No matter which, he did not want to be left in the woods, painfully hard and unsatisfied.
“Instead of torturin’ me, why don’t you come do somethin’ about it—” John spat with no venom, bending forward to reach out and grab Javier by his waist, pulling him back in. The latter allowed himself to stumble towards John, grinning as he braced his palms against the muscled expanse of John’s chest and shoulders. Because John was slouched against the tree, Javier was looking down on him from where he stood between John’s long legs.
Clawing at Javier’s hips with a bruising grip, John rolled their pelvises together, moaning into the humid air between them. Javier’s fingers clutched at John’s vest as he fought to suppress a groan. Rather than play along, he simply leaned down and simply hovered his lips over John’s, anything to prolong his anguish.
No knife between them this time, John crashed his mouth against Javier’s, muffling the moan that rumbled from deep inside his ribcage. He kissed with the franticness of a starving animal and rutted against Javier without shame. With heavy lids, John watched as Javier’s eyes fluttered close shortly before his followed suit.
It was a modicum of relief for him, but John knew he wasn’t going to get what he really wanted, not yet anyway. Javier was never that kind when he called the shots. Still, he came close to getting it when Javier parted his lips and allowed John’s tongue to slot against his own. Even closer when he felt Javier finally move his hips and heard the tight little moans that slipped out past the space between their mouths. John was starting to get lost in Javier’s warmth and his head began to swirl so hard it nearly knocked him off his feet.
Languidly blinking open his eyes, he saw Javier’s own blown pupils staring back beneath his long eyelashes before he felt a warm hand lie gently along his collarbone, slotting itself underneath the opening of his shirt. Javier broke their kiss to whisper against his lips.
“Burnin’ a little too hot out here for me, Marston. I’ll come find you later, when it’s cooler,” he breathed. It almost sounded like a threat if not for the way Javier smiled down at him. Prying himself from John’s grip, Javier adjusted his collar as he put distance between them once more. John only watched as Javier left the clearing, disappearing into the hedgerow nearby.
And so it goes on.
-
John felt his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. His heart, once pounding in expectancy and suspense, was now beating at a slow, lazy pace. The exact time was unknown, however, the growing silence from the typical nightly campfire fare indicated it was getting late enough for most folks.
Featherlight strums twinkled throughout the camp, faintly reaching out to the inside of John’s tent, meaning Javier was still awake and entertaining the night. John had no idea what he was playing, the sound barely audible over the roar of the cicadas.
Watching Javier tonight was rough, to say the least. Skin a glowing amber from the campfire, the words he sang floated and curled around John like a rope, tugging him further and further in. He couldn’t help but watch as his strong, calloused fingers flexed and tensed against the frets. This strange arrangement they had was bordering on cruelty and John was nonetheless left miserably in a frenzied state of lust.
Succumbing to his weariness, John eventually fell asleep with a sigh, the candle by his cot still emitting an orange light.
-
A quiet rustle from inside his tent stirred John awake. The initial grogginess of being woken up was soon overwhelmed by anxiety. His ears strained to listen over his ever-increasing heart rate and his eyes remained closed, feigning sleep. Footsteps signified an approaching presence creeping towards John’s cot.
Worry began to knot at his stomach as the intruder ambled closer; he wondered how they were able to get so deep into camp and reach his tent. Perhaps they snuck past tonight’s watchman under the dark cloak of night, evading anyone still awake at this hour.
Remembering the blade he kept sheathed under his pillow, John quietly waited for the chance to strike.
Then, everything happened all too quickly. As John shot his hands up to reach for his knife and block a possible attack, warm hands gruffly grabbed his wrists, pinning both to his bedroll beneath a single palm.
“Shit!” He cried, his movements considerably more lethargic than those of the intruder. The other hand soon brought a blade of its own up to his neck, somehow skillfully toeing the line between a meager presence and a menacing threat. This felt all too familiar.
Perfume mixed with the scent of a smoldering campfire soon overwhelmed John’s senses, distracting him as the assailant straddled his thighs, caging him in. Of course, it was Javier.
Who else but him?
Javier let out a short tsk. “You make it so easy,” he cooed, voice graveled from his earlier singing.
“Jesus, Javier! The hell’re you—?” Increased pressure from the knife under his jaw forced John to cut himself off and he thickly swallowed the rest of his question down his throat.
At last, Javier leaned over John, his facial features coming into view bathed in an orange hue. John was rendered stupefied by his heavy gaze and almost shied away from its intensity. It didn’t occur to him that this was how things would continue between them, but they were always trying to one-up each other.
Just like earlier in the woods, the hot blood of his body began its course down towards his groin, against his better judgment.
“Better stay quiet, Marston. Don’t need you waking up the whole camp,” Javier ordered, prompting John to immediately close his parted mouth with a click of his teeth. “I told you I’d come find you later,” he murmured softly, his gentle tone accentuated by the flat side of his knife delicately dragging down the side of John’s neck, almost tickling him.
Slowly swiping his tongue over his dried lips as if afraid to make even the slightest move, John’s breath fluttered out his nostrils in short, staggered bursts. Once again, he was completely and utterly helpless to the man on top of him.
Feeling cheeky, he decided to push back just a little, settling comfortably in Javier’s grip. “Should I be feelin’ frightened?” He asked, giving a small, crooked smile. The soft, deft movements of the knife turned harsh as he felt it press against his throat, causing his breath to catch and his dick to twitch with want.
Chuckling lightly, Javier lifted himself off of John’s thighs, gooseflesh prickling the skin under John’s union suit from the loss of heat. Maintaining the pressure against his neck, Javier careened forward, bringing his face only an inch or two from John’s.
“I don’t think so,” Javier replied sardonically. “Although,” he paused, and John helplessly watched as Javier arched his back, lowering his ass to press against his half-hard cock. “I think we both know how you’re feelin’ right now.”
John’s heartbeat roared in his ears as he let out a strangled whine at the sudden contact. Javier’s hips stayed agonizingly still and John wanted so badly to rock his hips upwards, just to get some semblance of satisfaction. He wished Javier would kiss him at the very least, and feeling Javier’s own arousal against his pelvis only riled him more.
Now Javier was grinning, so handsome and smug. “No, I think you enjoy this, John Marston,” he said, accenting this assertion by adding pressure with the blade. The sharp side was now indenting the skin of John’s neck and threatened to cut, drawing a grunt from him.
Feeling a bizarre mixture of arousal and terror, John’s eyes widened and flickered down to the scar along Javier’s throat. The muscles in his neck tensed as if to instinctively put space between it and the knife.
“Don’t worry, cariño, not here,” Javier assured in an almost comforting way as he moved the knife away, perhaps sensing his fear.
Leaning away from John, Javier continued dragging the knife as his eyes followed along, down past John’s clavicle and stopping at his clothed chest. Eyes flickering back up to John’s, he whispered, “This okay?” with an upward tilt of the blade, its end now pointing at his jaw.
Not thinking too much on the implications, John nodded. Anything to keep Javier looking at him like that. “Mm, go ‘head. Don’t mess me up too bad now,” he replied, his breath coming out uneven and shaky despite his attempts at steeling his nerves.
He’d been cut so many times—he was nearly eaten by wolves, for God’s sake, but this felt different; he had to trust Javier. John tilted his head to reveal the side of his face without any scars.
A look of satisfaction washed over Javier’s face. “Alright, hold still for me,” he commanded, voice hardly above a whisper as if he were afraid someone would hear them.
An inhale from John, and Javier replied with a pointed flick of his wrist. Wincing as the blade sliced a small cut along his jaw, John whimpered despite himself and curled his lip from the sting. He knew it wasn’t very deep since he only felt a little bit of blood bubble up to the surface of the wound.
Perhaps it was the position they were in, or there was some depraved part of himself he never knew existed, but John’s member pulsed with furious intrigue, twitching upward against Javier’s ass. A warm flush crept across his cheeks and made its way down to his chest.
Okay, maybe he liked Javier holding him at knife point, and maybe he didn’t mind getting hurt.
“Being obedient suits you,” Javier cooed, lazily rounding his ass in a tight circle against John’s groin—only a single movement, much to his dismay.
“F-Fuck, Javier," he stuttered. The praise enveloped John like a tidal wave, sinking him deeper and deeper.
Clearly thinking he was going to obey, Javier let go of John’s wrists to begin unbuttoning his union suit with one hand. Deft fingers parted the fabric, brushing over the sensitive skin of John’s bare chest, gooseflesh rising in their wake.
Just as quickly, however, were John’s newly-freed hands flying to grasp at the flesh of Javier’s ass, his thumbs digging into the creases of the smaller man’s hips. He’d been in agony all day, and he knew Javier liked it when he fought back a little, contrary to his praise.
Seeking the satisfaction long-withheld from him, John gruffly rolled his hips upwards, earning a gasp from Javier who was clearly caught off-guard. “Take off your shirt,” he growled, reveling in the increased pressure on his groin. “You always look so good in candleli—ah- shit!” He was cut off by Javier’s blade landing a small cut along his chest and immediately released him. How the hell did he snag him so quickly?
“Do I need to tie you up like a dog? Hands off, pendejo,” Javier ordered with no bite to his voice.
Not wanting to push him any further, John obeyed, placing his hands back above his head with a quiet huff. Although, the thought of being tied up was certainly enticing.
“And keep those hips still for me.” John merely grumbled in response.
As if to test him, Javier laid the knife under his palm and on top of John’s chest with the blade pointing diagonally against his neck. Without words, Javier was telling John to behave. He then reached up with his free hand to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt just far down enough for John to see the dark hair that sat atop the peaks of his muscular chest. After also undoing the buttons of his waistcoat, Javier shrugged his clothing off his shoulders, revealing skin that will continue to go untouched.
Even so, John obediently remained still, despite how badly he wanted to take Javier and touch him. He curled his fingers into his pillow, deciding if he played nice, he’d get what he wanted a lot quicker than if he didn’t. Besides, the sight in front of him certainly made up for the day-long torture he’d been subjected to.
There was something so alluring about Javier that it was almost astonishing. The hard and soft curves of his body, his scars, his hair; they came into a flickered view from John’s bedside candle. Shadows contoured around his face, contrasting the warm highlights of his prettiest features.
The hand pinning the knife to his chest was hot and John’s heart thudded against it. Javier’s other hand undid his belt and unbuttoned his trousers to pull his dick out, John’s own clothed one pinned underneath. He then spat into his palm.
Eyes transfixed on Javier’s movements, John watched as the man on top of him trembled from his own hand, slowly stroking himself.
Every time Javier’s knuckles dragged along John’s shaft, it sent shivers down his spine that he could hardly suppress and made his cock pulsate and twitch. John whined, his fingers and toes curling as he struggled to maintain his composure. Javier himself was emitting moans so quiet that John almost missed them.
“Javier, let me—”
“Stay,” he commanded, his voice labored and soaked in lust.
John’s teeth worried at his bottom lip and he could feel precum seeping through his union suit, the wet fabric catching against the back of Javier’s hand. Of course, the knife currently threatening his jugular and the prodding pain there kept him civil; a rush of excitement swept over him.
Feeling the strong thighs around him squeezing against his body and the quickened, breathy moans flowing from his lips, John could tell Javier was soon approaching his limit.
With a pained huff, Javier’s hand stopped abruptly and he sat up on his knees. Using his free hand, he began to unbutton the rest of John’s union suit, finally freeing his weeping cock from its confines. John couldn’t help but groan; perhaps he was finally going to get some relief this evening.
Bending down, Javier pressed soft kisses along John’s ribcage, using his knees to nudge his thighs apart so he could kneel between them. He made his way down to John’s stomach, the muscles there tense and clenching with want. Teeth grazed the pale skin of his hips and John hissed at each nip, his breath coming out ragged and punctuated with short whines. One hand steadied John’s hip, and the other arm laid across his torso, continuing to hold him at knifepoint.
Moving further down, Javier made eye contact with John as he finally, finally, pressed his mouth to the leaking head of his erection, delicately tonguing the wet slit.
“God—Javier-!” John cried as the most sensitive parts of his body were instantly lit ablaze, his hips jerkily thrusting forward against Javier’s lips. The calloused hand squeezing his hip forced John’s pelvis down as Javier’s other wrist twisted to allow the knife’s sharp side to lightly imprint his flesh.
John braced for a slice that never came—instead it was a mere warning. His chest heaved unevenly from the spike of adrenaline.
“I said be quiet, Marston. I need you desperate, not loud,” Javier muttered, amused but stern. John felt every word he spoke against his head, sending a jolt throughout his body.
Despite his frustration from Javier’s incessant teasing, he couldn’t help but smile a little. “We both know you’re the louder one,” he replied, his voice coming out more strained than he meant it to.
Javier moved his hand to hold up his cock before languidly kissing it from the underside of its head all the way to the base. John squirmed, flexing and fidgeting with the pillow in his hands as he tried not to buck his hips.
Pausing in his worship, Javier retorted, “Ay, but we don’t need the whole gang hearin’ either of us, idiota.” With each word he spoke, Javier’s lips brushed along John’s shaft, eliciting a soft whine from him.
Javier drew his thumb to his lips to lick an agonizingly slow stripe before rubbing the wet digit against John’s frenulum, occasionally teasing the head as his tongue lapped at his balls. John’s body completely stiffened, his muscles tightened as he fought to keep his focus and stay quiet.
Like a cat playing with its food, John felt like Javier’s prey. That was, until Javier took John in his warm, wet mouth, his tongue flat against the underside of his shaft. Gripping his pillow with white knuckles, John’s lips parted as he gulped for air, nearly keening.
Javier hummed around him, the vibrations rippling throughout John’s body. It was so good, too good. Hot, thick pleasure twisted deliciously low in his gut, continuing to build higher and higher until John felt he would soon come tumbling down. He watched Javier make quick work of him, drawing more short, pained moans from him.
At some point, John thought he heard the sound of a tin being opened which was soon followed by the feeling of Javier’s newly-slicked hand squeezing around his shaft. His wrist twisted in tandem with the bobbing of his head, leaving no inch of his groin untouched.
John thrashed his head in curt, jerky movements since he couldn’t move anything else. The way he felt inside Javier’s mouth, the way Javier felt around him–it was exactly what he’d been agonizing for since the afternoon.
Shaking, he could hardly take it anymore. “Oh god, ohgodohgod- I’m–!“ John babbled as quietly as he could manage in the moment, his peak nearly slamming into him until Javier abruptly pulled off his cock entirely. This forced a high-pitched whine from John which was soon muffled by burying his grimacing face into the side of his bicep, his eyes screwed shut. The loss was almost painful for his already boiling-hot nerves.
Before John could even question him, instead only managing to glare at him, Javier pulled himself up, wiping his mouth.
“I know you can be patient,” Javier reasoned, delivering a quick peck to John’s chest. He swiftly pulled his trousers down past his thighs and over his knees before kicking them off entirely. The flushed, beading head of his dick poked out from underneath his now-untucked shirt and laid against John’s, who grunted at the contact.
“Besides,” Javier continued, leaning forward onto his knees and placed his hand back on the handle of the blade. “I think you’ll like this more.”
Lifting back off of him, Javier grasped John’s dick with his other hand and positioned it towards his backside. At a loss for words, John simply emitted an undignified guffaw-like sound when Javier arched his back and lowered himself just enough to massage the head against his slickened entrance, up and down. Wait–
John swallowed at the realization, his brow furrowing in near disbelief. “God—mmn, wha-... when did you–?”
“Earlier,” Javier replied breathily, cutting him off, “before I came into your tent.”
Imagining Javier hiding in the shadows near camp, so close to everyone in the gang, working himself open before waking him up–John wished he could have seen it for himself. Perhaps watching from behind a tree, or even now, in a similar position where John would lie still as Javier’s fingers pumped in and out of himself, see the way his face would contort to try and keep quiet, how flushed his skin gets—
John’s string of thoughts went unfinished as Javier slowly enveloped the engorged head of his cock, almost causing him to shout from the sensation. Still so deliciously tight despite his efforts, Javier groaned at the intrusion, biting down on his lip to heel the noises fighting to escape. Unable to hold back, John weakly bucked his hips upward, accidentally pushing himself deeper inside Javier.
“Nngh, don’t-ah-don’t move,” Javier whispered, his voice strained and face twisted in a mixture of discomfort and bliss. John wouldn’t dare move again, as much as it killed him to wait. He resided to simply lie there and watch, awestruck.
Head hung low and loose clothing slipping off his broad shoulders, Javier looked absolutely disheveled, torn apart from white-hot bliss. Quiet whimpers filled with curses and John’s name danced throughout the tent as Javier nearly split himself in two working his way down. John could only encourage him, whispering things like that’s it, Javier and you’re doing so well.
Burying his cock to its hilt, a low whine erupted from Javier’s chest, sounding as if all the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. The sweat on his forehead glistened in the candlelight and the aching, feverish look in his eyes matched how John was feeling, who wasn’t fairing any better.
His fingers ached to squeeze into the flesh of Javier’s hips, to dig into the slender waist before him. The sting of his cuts reminded him to stay put, but the deliciously tight heat around his cock was setting him aflame.
Letting Javier catch his breath, John smiled up at him, his own mouth agape with breathlessness. “Drop the knife, Escuella. I’ve been good, lemme have you.”
That got a warm laugh from the other man. “Hah–I agree, but I think you’d devour me if I did.” Despite his coy reservation, John’s attempt at being charming worked and Javier finally tossed his knife to the other side of the tent, deciding to end their game, at least on his end.
Like a man freed from imprisonment, John couldn’t have been more elated when his arms flew up, his biceps burning from their long-held position. He pulled his union suit off his upper body, the cool night air chilling his sweaty skin. One hand went to Javier’s waist and the other grasped the back of his head, bringing him down to crash their mouths together. His tongue prodded and plied against Javier’s lips, forcing them apart fervently.
John felt Javier smile against his mouth, clearly delighted. Smug bastard. He brought the hand cradling Javier’s head down to thumb at one of his nipples. At the same time, Javier began to move his hips in tandem with the pushing and pulling of John’s other hand, his fingers curling into the softened flesh there.
Pressing open-mouthed kisses to Javier’s cheek, his jaw, his neck, John rocked his pelvis at a slow, agonizing pace. Javier brought both hands up to John’s neck, curling his fingers in his hair as his head fell back, his lips parted in satisfaction.
“Get on your knees,” John ordered, his teeth grazing against Javier’s skin. As much as he loved seeing Javier’s face, he’d been left to only his most basic, animalistic desires. Javier tilted his head downward to meet his gaze before lifting himself off of John, grimacing at the sudden emptiness.
With Javier now so compliant, John could finally let him know just how pent up he’d been all day because of him. Rearing up and aligning himself behind Javier, John pushed back inside while puffing out a long exhale, savoring the heat compressing around his cock. His hands clutched at the trim waist before him.
“You’re lucky I ain’t exactly the torturin’ type, at least tonight,” John muttered, to which Javier let out a staggered chuckle.
As John slowly pulled out and left only the head inside, Javier moaned, high-pitched and amorous. Feeling cruel, John held his position while admiring the way Javier’s toned back flexed and curved with every inhale and whine. Javier, impatient, tried to jerk his hips in an effort to get John to thrust again, mewling quietly.
Always dutiful to the needs of Javier Escuella, John complied, slamming over and over again into the smaller man with a heavy exhale and bottoming out at an angle he knew he liked. Javier moaned, his mouth wet with drool and full of garbled words John didn’t understand but were familiar enough to him. His fingers clenched at the blanket on John’s cot, looking for something to ground himself.
“Jo-ngh, por favor, a-again–” Javier sobbed, his head forced down into the bedroll.
All the pent-up lust boiled up to the surface, threatening to spill over. The eager, insatiable hunger comparable to that of a starved, wild-eyed animal surged through John. In this position, with Javier splayed in front of him, John felt himself giving in to the carnal rage inside him and aggressively snapped his hips forward, his fingers clawing at Javier’s lithe body. His ferocity was rewarded with delicious moans spilling from Javier’s lips as he continued to fuck him, pounding against his prostate.
Knowing Javier wasn’t going to last long, John moved quickly. He enveloped Javier’s svelte body within his own, overwhelming the man entirely. Reaching around with one arm to grasp Javier’s leaking cock, John pumped it slowly before tightening his grip around the base.
“Teasin’ me all damn day–this what you wanted, huh?” He growled into the space where Javier’s neck met his shoulder. Javier keened, curving his spine against John’s rough thrusts and his mouth hung open in a silent sob as he tried forming the word yes.
The filthy, slickened sounds of their lovemaking overpowered even the cicadas outside the tent. In moments like these, John could pretend the rest of the gang, the rest of the world didn’t exist. Timing the jerking of his hand with his fucking, John mouthed along Javier’s neck, whispering, “Come on now, Javier..”
“Oh, mierda,” Javier whimpered, failing miserably at keeping quiet. “I-I’m so close–”
With that, John sped up his hand and just when he felt Javier was at his most desperate, he sunk his teeth into Javier’s neck, marking him just as he did. Javier’s entire body twitched violently as he came with a shout, his cries muffled by his own palm.
Javier clenched around him from the force of his orgasm, sending John over the edge soon after. John continued his thrusting as he spilled into the other man, coming with a quiet, wounded groan.
Weakly jerking his hips until he felt Javier bat him away, John pulled out with a grunt. Looking down, he noticed small drips of blood trickled from the wound on his chest.
“Sorry, I-uh, know you don’t like it when I–”
“‘s fine,” Javier gaped, his mouth too preoccupied with steadying his breathing. Once John surrendered his grip on him, Javier flopped onto his side in almost a fetal position, entirely spent. “That was…”
“Really, um… yeah,” John replied, unsure of the right words to say, or how to even describe how he was feeling.
Finally catching his breath, Javier leaned up onto his wrist to face John. He hissed quietly, bringing a hand up to where he’d been bit. Even in the flickering candlelight, John could see the quiet, angry purpling of flesh there.
“Good thing you always cover your neck,” John said around an awkward laugh, suddenly feeling meek.
“Told you you’d eat me alive,” Javier replied, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile as he chuckled quietly.
Grunting from pain, Javier leaned down to pull out a handkerchief and a small flask from the pockets of his trousers. “Here, I’ll clean those cuts for ya. Least I could do,” he offered as he sat back up onto the cot.
“Yeah, yeah…,” John resigned, ignoring the way his stomach fluttered.
The night ended in several hisses from the sting of whiskey, which was soon quelled by several soft, rewarding kisses from Javier. With his bedside candle–nearly burned down to the wick–finally snuffed, the two finally put their game to rest.