Work Text:
Havelock had taken out the man who had gone for Keel with a concealed blade. It was a clumsy attempt and the young assassin had dispatched him easily. He was supposed to slip away now — disappear into the night unnoticed and unidentified. And he was going to- he swore he was. But maybe it was a stroke of bad luck, maybe he had been lazy, or maybe something in him wanted to linger to watch the mysterious sergeant at arms for just a bit longer.
No matter what the cause, he immediately began to curse his hesitation when he was slammed against the wall with a firm forearm pressed against his windpipe.
“Who the hell are you?” Keel’s voice growled menacingly.
Havelock could have freed himself with a few well placed strikes, but he wasn’t here to hurt the man, quite the opposite actually. So he raised his hands against the wall to show that he wasn’t going to harm Keel, and rasped out
“Need… air… to talk…”
This was accompanied by a singular raised eyebrow from the boy which prompted a frustrated grunt from Keel. All of the sudden the pressure left Havelock’s throat and his wrists were pinned to the stone behind him.
He tried to compose himself but his heart rate was unusually high, his breath shallower than usual, his mind more scattered. He needed to get out of here.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he tried. Maybe if he assuaged the man’s worries he could keep everything else in the dark. Revealing his identity or any further details was a risk he didn’t want to take.
“I know that. Would’ve killed me by now if you were. That wasn’t what I asked.”
Havelock pressed his lips together and looked away under Keel’s fiery gaze.
“I know you’ve been following me, don’t think I’m stupid. You’re good at hiding, but I’m good at what I do too.”
“You stare into shadows…” came a half whisper from the young assassin.
“Sure do, so why don’t you tell me why you’ve been staring out of them then?”
Havelock shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.”
Somehow Keel got even closer, pinning the boy to the wall with his body now. His breath tickled the side of Havelock’s face.
“Like hell. If you’re going to follow me for days and assassinate the people trying to kill me you’re damn well going to tell me why”
The gravelly edge of threat in Keel’s voice sent something electric tingling through Havelock’s body. He’d been trying to ignore it, trying to prevent it, but his body was betraying him. The hormones he was usually so adept at ignoring finally overtook him, and he was horrified to realize that his blood was beginning to rush to a specific southern location.
He tried to push the watchman off, struggling against his iron grip. Keel only pressed him further against the wall, crowding impossibly closer into his space.
Havelock was certain now that the man could feel his erection pressing against his thigh. It was humiliatingly obvious and there was no signs of this position or Keel’s threats doing anything to assuage the situation.
Then Keel moved his thigh to press even closer against his cock, and Havelock couldn’t stop himself from letting out a keening whine. His face had been burning for the last minute, but a new wave of shameful heat washed through him, and he tried to turn his head away more, but had nowhere to go.
“So this does it for you, then, eh?” came Keel’s voice, laced with patronizing venom. He was speaking quietly now, directly into Havelock’s ear, his low rumble only audible to the two men pressed together in this alley, insulated from space and time “Could’ve guessed. You know I’m more than twice your age, kid. I could be your father. And here you are rubbing off against me like a bitch in heat.”
Havelock was still trying to hide his face. Tears were pricking at his eyes, and his feeble attempts to escape only served to rub his cock against the fabric pressed between him and Keel.
“N- no-“ His voice was breaking. He was breaking. Caught between terror, anger, and red hot shameful pleasure his carefully constructed armor was cracking apart.
“Don’t even try that,” Keel reached down to grope the assassin through his trousers, “you’re getting exactly what you need.”
“Stop- please, please don’t” The young man was squeezing his eyes shut as hot tears rolled down his cheeks now.
Keel only rumbled a growl before leaning to bite Havelock’s pale, delicate neck, drawing a gasp and a whine from him, and pausing to quickly undo the ties of the boy’s trousers. He leaned away for a second to spit roughly into his hand before returning to sucking bruises onto the boy’s neck. His calloused hand now rubbed against Havelock’s straining erection, the slide deliciously eased by spit and pre-come.
The young assassin had devolved into half coherent protests and pleas in between his tears and whimpering moans, and Keel soon covered his mouth with one firm hand, muffling them.
Havelock was just crying now, realizing he could say nothing to deter the watchman, and his body betrayed him to rut his hips into the other man’s grip.
The older man, seeing him thrusting up into his fist, chuckled darkly.
“Good boy, I knew you needed this.”
The storm of Havelock’s emotions tangled with the thick, hot pleasure ripping through his senses; in a moment the wave broke over him and he was spilling with a sob into Keel’s fist.
After stroking him through his orgasm, Keel slipped his hand out of the boy’s trousers and wiped it off on the thigh of his own.
The hand covering Havelock’s mouth shifted to his cheek to wipe away at some of his tears and pull the whimpering young assassin into a heated kiss.
When the watchman pulled away he growled against Havelock’s lips
“Now look what you’ve done.”
And indeed Keel’s own cock was now straining against the fabric of his trousers, which he was quickly undoing.
With a hand in his hair, he pushed Havelock to his knees on the rough cobbles and told him to get on with it.
Havelock’s tear filled eyes looked up at him as he opened his mouth and took the head of his cock onto his tongue. He balked a little at the unfamiliar taste and texture, but soon Keel’s length was hitting his soft palate as the sergeant guided him up and down his cock with a hand firmly in the boy’s hair.
There was no point resisting now, so he just tried to focus on not gagging, and ignoring that little voice in the back of his mind that was telling him that he really really liked this.
Above him Keel was letting out small grunts, interspersed with curses and mutterings of “Gods, look at you…” “Better than a seamstress…” “Cry so pretty…“ “Meant for my cock, aren’t you…” as he took his pleasure.
Havelock’s cock made a valiant effort to swell again, counter to the wishes of its owner. His face was a mess of drool and tears, and as Keel reached his climax cum spilled from his mouth and joined the mess.
The other man’s cock was still thrusting into his mouth through his orgasm, and Havelock had no choice but to swallow some. It was bitter and savory, salty and sweet, like nothing he’d ever tasted. It was at once an affront to the senses and a thing Havelock could see himself learning to revel in. The latter half of that sentiment was shoved violently away. He also ignored the way he almost missed the weight on his tongue as soon as his mouth was left empty.
When Keel pulls the boy off his cock he leads him to stand via the hand clenched in his hair. He shifts his grip to the back of Havelock’s neck and pulls him into a rough kiss.
...
The kiss continues, but turns sweeter, softer. A hand cups his face, stroking a thumb softly against Havelock’s cheek.
Sam pulls Havelock into a hug.
“You did so good, so perfect…”
The willowy man nuzzles into Sam’s neck as he’s lifted and carried to a bed. He whines a bit when the other man pulls away for a moment to retrieve a warm, moist towel set aside for this purpose, and a cup of tea kept warm by a candle on the side table.
Sam gently removes Havelock’s clothes and cleans him with loving strokes. He coaxes Havelock to take the tea, and goes to the closet. When he returns Havelock allows himself to be gently manhandled into a soft warm dressing gown and hums in contentment as Sam joins him on the bed. He sets down his tea and retakes his position in the crook of Sam’s neck. He smiles against his lover’s tanned and scarred skin.
“Thank you, Sam.”