Quartering Acts
By Ahro

Rated M for sexual situations, violence, and language.
Chapter 6

What the hell am I doing? What just happened? Why did I do that?

His thoughts were erratic as he rushed out of the small house and into the yard. The rain was still coming down, but it hardly fazed him as he kept running towards the stable. He had no idea where he was going - all he knew was that he needed to get away from that house. Away from the blacksmith. Away from himself.

Why did I moan his name?

Looking back over his shoulder he saw that the house had gone dark and decided to head into the stable to saddle his mare. It had been a few years since he'd last felt the warmth of a woman. Could his reaction towards Alfred have been caused by a lack of that need and want? The smith was certainly not a woman, though, and it was his name that had escaped his lips.

He said my name too. He wanted me. Why?

The horse suddenly grabbed his attention away from these musings by nipping at his wet shirt. It was getting late, and the mare was clearly irritated at being jostled awake and brought out in the cold rain.

"Sorry, girl, I need some time to clear my head."

"Lieutenant Kirkland?"

Arthur nearly jumped out of his own skin at the sudden voice. Turning around, he noticed a silhouette walking towards him, slowly entering the lantern light. It was a British soldier, come to call on him for patrol. Damn, he had forgotten all about it, and he was out of uniform.

"That's me."

"Ensign Berkley, sir. I am to accompany you on your nightly patrols around the town, sir." The young man saluted. Arthur noticed the boy was looking at him awkwardly; finally, the lad spoke up. "Might I speak freely, sir?"

"You may, but I already know what you are concerned over. I am out of uniform. I am afraid it must be laundered after the trip here."

"Understood, sir. However, I'm afraid you must be in uniform during patrol. I do have a spare coat you can wear for tonight. We can stop by the home I'm stationed at if you would like, sir."

Knowing he had lied to the boy and was in need of something more than the white shirt he had on, he nodded his agreement. This was a distraction from his thoughts. He only hoped the ensign would grow more talkative as they rode. So far it was looking bleak, but the boy knew his position, and seemed to take it seriously enough. Arthur wondered how long he had been in the colonies. Were the soldiers here simply corrupted by this land over time? Could being away from England bring about this change?

"That will do. I appreciate your assistance in the matter."

The young man saluted, and headed back out into the rain.

Arthur finished saddling his mare, which had recently been named Crimson by Micah, and began to walk her out. His attention, however, was quickly drawn towards a familiar red cloak hanging in the stall he hadn't noticed earlier. He had forgotten leaving his cloak in the stall the day before, and now experienced some small pleasure at the thought of finding warmth in its folds. Since the sun had set, the cold August air had begun to stab at him through the thin fabric of his wet shirt. Even the ensign's coat wouldn't have done much, and so he welcomed the heavy fabric with far more enthusiasm than was needed.

Tossing the cloak around his shoulders and clasping it at his neck, he then hoisted himself up into Crimson's saddle to walk out and meet the boy who sat waiting for him atop his own blue roan. They both set their horses to a steady trot as they headed down the dirt road. The rain had settled to a drizzle by that point, but it had rained enough to turn the road muddy. Arthur would be facing a much later night now that he'd have to rid Crimson of the cake of mud from their patrol.

"I'm quartering with a widow and her son just down the road a ways, sir."

Micah?

Arthur felt himself stiffen in his saddle. Reflecting back on to what Alfred had said about men who had been staying at Micah's home... what they did to his mother.

"How long have you been there?"

The ensign jumped slightly as Arthur had remained quiet for a considerable amount of time. He stuttered out his reply, "O-only two weeks, sir. I just arrived in Quincy from being stationed in New York, sir."

Arthur nodded. Good. Chances are this young lad hasn't been corrupted by the men in the area. He seems naïve enough.

They carried on in silence. The only sounds between them were the clopping of their horses' hooves in the soft mud and the gentle patter of light rain amidst the trees. It was quite calming; he began to wonder what beauty this small road would hold when fresh snow had decorated the trees in the winter, and blossoms came forth in the spring. Would he be here long enough to see those sights? Could he even make it through the next day when he'd have to confront Alfred?

There they were; his thoughts had found their way back to the man he had hoped to forget about for the evening. He had wanted desperately to find something to talk about with the ensign but now he didn't think he could. The first thing that came to his mind was to talk about who the boy had waiting for him at home, which would only lead to himself having to think about the past again, and continue the lies he had spun over the years. He was tired of the lies. He felt as if his own life had turned into a lie.

Am I going to add Alfred to that list of lies now? Lie about how I did enjoy his large, rough hand caressing the bare skin of my back. His lips as they gently kissed a trail along my neck. How I had grown hard in need for him as I felt his own stiff desire.

"This is it, sir."

Arthur had almost led his mare past the small home, so wrapped up in his own world. He finally righted himself, and began to hop down from the horse to come alongside the ensign.

Arthur was happy to note that the lanterns were still lit inside of the house. At least they wouldn't be waking anyone up. Then again, he wasn't too interested in seeing the boy so soon especially when he was with this strange soldier he hardly knew.

"Would you mind going to retrieve it for me? I would prefer to avoid disturbing the lady of the home." He was polite about it, but he wasn't giving the lad a choice with his tone.

The ensign knew an order when he heard it, and thus left Arthur to mind the horses until he returned.

Only a few minutes had passed by the time the soldier returned with the familiar red coat. It wouldn't have the correct marks of his station on it, but it would only be for the night, and he had the heavy cloak to block much of the uniform from sight. He only hoped they wouldn't happen upon any other officers along the way or they would reprimand him for his dress.

"How long is the patrol route?" Arthur asked casually once they had set out yet again. Taking a last look at the home, he couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt upon noticing a small shape quickly darting from the window.

I will find a way to make it up to him. I will not be the cause of more grief.

"Our jurisdiction is the outside perimeter, away from the main town. We are to report any crime or rebel movements in the area to General Dereks."

"Who is he?"

"I believe he came by the blacksmith's earlier today for an order of muskets. Did you happen to be there when he visited?"

Arthur could feel the hair standing straight up on the back of his neck. His knuckles turned white as they gripped the reins.

I have to report to that pig bastard.

"I believe I saw him briefly."

The soldier nodded.

Arthur gritted his teeth as spiteful thoughts continued to bubble up inside him, but he tried to push past them and focus on the other portion of the man's words.

"You said 'our' jurisdiction. You will be accompanying me on these patrols?"

The boy nodded again.

"Yes, sir. It's been ordered that all British soldiers are not to patrol alone for our own safety."

Arthur sneered, What a load of bollocks. More like having the upper hand when confronting a lone colonist. Bloody cowards.

This ensign was still very naive in his thoughts, but he couldn't deny he was pleased he was now stationed with Micah and his mother. The boy's obvious devotion to the rules, and need to protect the people seemed like qualities that were far and in-between in the region. He wouldn't have been surprised if the soldier laid down his life to protect Micah and his mother if they ever faced a serious threat. Although, if that General ever came along wanting to get his dick wet, the soldier might not speak up against a man of higher rank.

Arthur was going to have to keep a watchful eye on Micah's home while he was stationed here. He refused to let Micah see his mother abused again. He wouldn't allow Alfred to feel pain for doing good. He was apart of the British Empire, and he was here to protect these people. Even if that meant he was to protect them from his own people.

The patrol had been uneventful. Arthur learned very little of the man as Arthur was more concerned with letting anything of himself be revealed in the process. The boy didn't seem to mind though as he seemed content in his own world.

It had suited Arthur as well, yet the lack of conversation had kept his mind focused on Alfred.

The end of their patrol route came close to the busier part of the town, and the sounds of music and jovial activities grabbed the ensign's attention.

"Why don't we grab a drink to celebrate our first successful patrol?" The boy said excitedly as he eyed the pub not too far from the road.

Arthur took a moment to ponder whether he was ready to face the smith, but quickly came to the conclusion that a drink sounded much more promising.

The lieutenant nodded his reply, and they led their horses over to the raucous pub.

If Arthur hadn't known he was in America, he'd have thought he stepped into a pub back on the streets of London. There wasn't a single colonist to be seen. Everywhere he looked was a man dressed in the uniform of the British Army. It seemed like the pub had been staked out for English patrons only. Even the owner was a loyalist from England.

"I'll go get us a pint."

Arthur nodded to the ensign as Arthur began to take a seat at a table by the rear wall. Their entrance had gone unannounced, much to Arthur's delight, as he eyed the familiar, fat, face of the aforementioned General Dereks. The man laughed with such vigor Arthur was shocked anyone in the town was sleeping.

"Oh- you spotted the General." Berkley had returned with their beer and took a seat along side the lieutenant.

Arthur only nodded as he lifted his own mug to his lips.

"He's always quite boisterous like that when he drinks."

"Only… when he drinks?"

"Ahh- okay maybe more frequent than not." The younger man laughed awkwardly as he scratched his nose.

"Hmf- it is very unbecoming of a British General. He should practice some restraint. Being so careless..." he took a gulp of his beer, "will be his death."

"What was that, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing."

The ensign had gone back to watching the General as the man chugged another beer.

Arthur's attention was on the ensign. The lad's eager attention gave Arthur cause to worry.

"Were you stationed under the General before, Ensign?"

"Oh- yes, sir. When I first joined the military I was put in his regiment. I had been transferred though when the General was to be sent over seas. That was a year ago now." He looked down at his mug, and he began to play with the foam, "I'm actually rather happy to be reporting to him again, sir."

Arthur watched the boy with a frown.

Does he really know what kind of man this, General Dereks, is? To admire him so; I should hope for the boy's sake he does not.

"-And the bloody smith thought we'd actually PAY him for being late!"

Arthur's attention couldn't have been grabbed any faster.

Not paid!

"What a fool! Word around here says he's suppose to be a rebel, too, and yet he made the muskets so well that even our gunsmith was impressed." The general slapped his robust belly as he laughed. His uniform stretched uncomfortably from the strain, and it now adorned large stains from beer and food that had been sloshed down it. The man was an absolute pig.

"Well- even if he is a rebel, he won't be making any more muskets for anyone, not with that present we left him. Perhaps we should go shut his shop down now that he's useless. Put the rebel bastard out on the cold streets where he belongs."

The man's laugher was infectious as the rest of the pub burst out in laughter. Even the ensign laughed some.

"Wow, is he talking about the blacksmith you're staying with, sir?"

Arthur didn't listen as he had quickly downed his mug, and had left to get a refill at the bar.

He was the only man not laughing in the small pub, which garnered the general's attention rather quickly.

"Hey, when did you arrive, Kirkland? Finish your patrol already? I hope you found Ensign Berkley a pleasant chap to travel with. He's a bit quiet but a good soldier." The General had walked over to Arthur and slapped a large, wet, hand on his shoulder, which sent a chill of disgust up his spine.

"Hey there, Berkley! Come on over and have a pint on me!" The man's attention went to the young Ensign against the wall while he still held onto Arthur's shoulder. The boy seemed to blush as he got up with his mug, and quickly made his way to the bar.

"Three more, Roger."

The barkeep nodded and poured more drinks for the soldiers.

Arthur watched as the General downed his mug in one go; in sighting cheers from the soldiers once more, and slammed it down on the bar. Berkley took his, and shakily attempted the same, but coughed in the process, which made the General laugh, and slap the lad on the back for a good show.

"So, Kirkland how fares our smith friend?" The man laughed again. "I do hope he's interested in filling another order of muskets for us. I think fifty should do it by tomorrow!"

The crowd laughed again. Arthur grit his teeth.

"I do not know, sir. I am afraid I had other matters to attend to at that time."

"Ahh- right, like banging that pretty lass down the road from you. She's been around, but she still gets wet enough for a good shag."

Arthur could hardly stand it.

"Sir, are you alright?" Berkley's worried tone cut through to him beyond the laughter, and it was enough to lower his anger a bit before he lost his control.

Drinking the last of the remaining mug he quietly thanked the general, and excused himself to take a piss.

Leaving the pub into the chill air felt like a relief from drowning. Arthur wasn't sure if he could have restrained himself much longer. It would have been foolish to have started anything with so many soldiers around. No one would have taken his side, and he'd have been carted off for treason in seconds. He would be of no use to anyone once he was dead. Right now, he felt like he was the only one looking out for the weak.

When I had signed up, I thought it would be for a noble cause. A way to wipe my slate clean.

Arthur looked down to his open hand, so weak, and small. Clenching it into a fist though he would find the strength to still help even at the adversity before him.

He was thankful he hadn't been followed outside so decided now was his opportunity to head back.

But head back to what? Would Alfred accept me back? Even while under orders I'll find a way to leave him if that is what he wants.

Sitting astride Crimson he brought his gaze to the stars, noting how clear they shown in this land.

Even if that is what he wants.

As Arthur made it back to the stables, he hadn't realized how strong the beer had been. His face was flushed, while his vision had grown hazy as he had rode back.

Two drinks, and I feel this way. Bloody hell I'm pathetic.

Once Crimson was back in her stall, albeit half-haphazardly, he stumbled slightly out into the yard. He caught himself just soon enough when a lantern was lit inside the previously dark home, and began to move to the front entrance.

Arthur quickly ducked back into the barn, and blew out his own lantern to plunge him into nothing but moon light.

The front door was opened with a soft creak as Arthur watched Alfred slowly make his way outside. His step was off as he was still far from recovered, and seemed to eye the distant out house with contempt as the man remained on the porch.

He had set the lantern down on the top step, and with caution, made his way down, leaning on the banister as he went before he stopped at the grass.

Without any modesty or care, Alfred pulled out his penis to take a piss while holding himself up by the support of the railing.

Arthur gulped at the sight. Even in the cool breeze Arthur noted the man was well endowed. His mind suddenly jumping to thoughts he never even thought could be possible.

His own member throbbed as his face grew even warmer as he watched Alfred.

Once the smith had finished he had went back inside, and Arthur knew it was impossible for him to return to the house as well.

His erection was now painfully obvious, and even if he had made it to his bedroom he wasn't sure if he could be quiet enough in pleasuring himself.

Looking over his shoulder, a large patch of hay in the back corner caught his attention, and his concern was quickly lifted.

The barn was warm enough with the two large animals, and the enclosure being as small as it was would keep the heat inside. With the wind being blocked, a night in the barn shouldn't be too bad.

He closed the large doors to limit wind, and any other creatures from entering uninvited and made his way, the best he could, to the patch of hay.

His mind was still riddled with thoughts of the smith as he laid down, finally freeing his stiff member. His body had grown so hot that even the air no longer affected him as he began to stroke himself.

A moan escaped his lips as he pictured the smith standing over his prone form. The muscles in his strong shoulders rippled as he knelt down before him, resting his large hands on either side of Arthur's head to allow their eyes to gaze at each other.

The larger man then leaned forward, his lips taking Arthur's with a desperate need and want they both craved. One hand reached up to brush through Arthur's messy hair as he prodded the soldier's lips apart with his tongue for entrance. A moan escaped Arthur as Alfred's tongue dove deep into his mouth. Tasting that salty, sweet, tang of lemon on his breath as he did.

Arthur's hand quickened its pace on his cock as he pictured Alfred, while leaning on one arm, their lips still locked, allowed his free hand to travel down Arthur's chest. Lightly dragging his fingertips down to excite his nipples, and with a gentle squeeze made Arthur buck towards that touch.

He could see the smile in Alfred's eyes at the soldier's response. The smith released Arthur's lips, and began to kiss his way down his jaw, his neck, to his chest. Now finding the hard nipple with his tongue.

Arthur moaned louder this time as his back arched. His grip and pace growing faster as his pre-cum slicked his penis.

He wanted release as he saw Alfred than move down between his legs, gently spreading them, and allowing a finger to ghost across his entrance. A gasp escaped him as he felt the finger begin to press into him, following with a second.

His eyes began to roll in his head as his body arched further from the ground as he saw those brilliant blue eyes grin back at him just as his cock was enveloped by Alfred's mouth.

"A-ALFRED!"

He came, hard, as his body rocked through the waves of pleasure that went through him. His hand grew slick from his seed as he rode out the last waves. His body slowly coming back into his control.

His breathing was heavy as he tried to catch it, quickly feeling exhaustion flow through him.

Thoughts of where he was were no longer prevalent in his mind, as he quickly allowed sleep to over take him.

The next morning, Arthur's head was spinning.

Groggy, pain, and a strong desire to empty his stomach compelled him to wake-up.

Looking around he recalled vaguely the night before. He had gone out on patrol. Was forced to share a beer with that pig of a general. Found his way back to the barn. Saw Alfred.

His hand went to his mouth as he suddenly noticed the large blanket that he knew had not been there. Lifting it he saw the proof of what he had done, and then knew someone had seen him in such a state to have draped the blanket over him.

Micah?

He quickly tucked himself away and stood up. Looking around the small barn for any sign of the boy.

"Micah? Are you here?"

No reply.

He walked over to Crimson's stall, noticing the disarray he had left her in. The boy had certainly not been here or he would have seen to the mare. Hoping it would help wake him up, Arthur went in to attend the horse.

He had removed the saddle last night, and placed a blanket over her, however, he had neglected to remove the halter.

Apologizing for his negligence, he removed the artifact, and put out a large bin of oats. He had filled her water, thankfully. Lord, he was an awful drunkard.

Taking a brush he began to smooth out her coat. Their was dry mud still caked to her legs which he berated himself over.

And after I had thought about that while we were setting out. Had I not seen Alfred-

He paused mid-brush as he stared past the horse into space.

I'm blaming Alfred over my sick, perverted, desires. If he knew the things I pictured him doing to me last night.

He paused in his thoughts.

What if he did know? If Micah wasn't the one to have placed the blanket over me, it had to have been Alfred. He'd have seen me exposed like that. Would he have thought I was thinking of him?

"Sorry, girl, I'll be back later. I have a few things to sort out."

The horse wickered a response, and returned to her oats.

Opening the barn doors, sunlight blasted his eyes as he winced and raised his arm in an attempt to shield them. His head throbbed with the steadily oncoming headache as he tried to get use to the sun. One thing about America, they had their fair share of sunny days.

"SHIT! You...lousy, piece of... horse..."

A string of curses from the forge quickly grabbed Arthur's attention. There was no guesswork involved as to who would be in there. He knew he had to go, but was he even in a right state to address their situation.

Is it even our situation? What if his injuries had just deluded him? Sure, he had said my name, but I went along with it. Then last night in the barn. I'd be a fool to just dismiss my reactions to him.

Tired of trying to justify it, he went over to the forge, and peered in through one of the large barn doors.

Alfred stood awkwardly in front of the hearth, attempting to light the smoldering coals with a large bellows that required two strong arms. In which, Alfred was painfully missing the use of one. So he had rested one end on a stool and was trying to push down on the other end, but the device continued to slip away under his weight. This caused Alfred to slip, and jostle his injury around even more. Easily inciting the same string of curses Arthur had picked up on earlier.

Arthur couldn't help but smirk, though it angered him to think the man thought he could be out working after a concussion and broken collarbone.

"If you think it's so funny, why don't you come over here and help me."

Arthur was struck off guard as Alfred suddenly turned to look over his shoulder at the soldier.

He hadn't been prepared for the confrontation just yet but he silently stepped forward.

Alfred stood back up, groaning as he rotated his good shoulder from the stiff position he had had it in. Arthur was happy to see Alfred had fashioned a sling for his other arm, which he had been minding during his exertion. He still couldn't fathom how this man could be out at all.

"You really should not be working with those injuries." Arthur spoke up as he sent a glance to the mentioned areas before picking up the heavy bellows.

Alfred stood back and watched quietly as Arthur began to pump air towards the coals, slowly bringing them to flame. It wasn't easy as the bellows was old but he wasn't going to show any weakness right now in front of the smith. He had too much to say to be dismissed.

Once the coals were burning steadily, Alfred moved over to the hearth and gently pushed Arthur from in front of it. Arthur sneered but remained silent as he placed the bellows to sit along side the stone hearth. He then watched as Alfred picked up a piece of iron with a pair of tongs and rested it over the flames till it glowed red.

Arthur couldn't help but interject at this point.

"Now how do you intend on hammering it with your left hand?"

Alfred said nothing, only picking up a hammer with his left; he rested the hot bar on the adjacent anvil, and began slamming powerful blows upon it. His arm in the sling attempting meekly to keep the tongs holding the iron in place.

Arthur had to admit he was impressed, but even he knew the iron wouldn't come out even remotely useable. If anything, Arthur would have to admit the man was looking for an out to blow off steam.

"You know that iron will be useless."

He just had to push his luck, as Alfred was suddenly in his face with the red-hot iron nearly at his neck. The heat from the metal made his eyes water as sweat began to bead up on his face.

"Would you care to enlighten me as to how I will afford to live if I remain bedridden for the next few months?"

Arthur winced as he suddenly remembered the conversation in the bar.

"They did not pay you?" Arthur knew, but he had to mind the cards he played right now. Any wrong choice and he'd be losing more than a few shillings.

"Yes, I'm afraid they had forgotten about that. Perhaps on your patrol you may have come across the good General and he recalled not having paid me my thirty pounds, and gave it to you to return to me."

The sarcasm only added to the heat in the air as Arthur was pushed further towards the wall by Alfred. The iron still threateningly close to his throat.

"Why not let me work for you?"

The bar moved closer, Arthur swallowed, "What?"

"Let me help you in the forge. I have nothing else to occupy my time besides the patrols at night. I could help you smith weapons, tools, or whatever needs to be fashioned to help repay what was taken from you. I am stronger than I look, and I learn quickly."

Alfred seemed to ponder Arthur's suggestion a moment as the bar was pulled ever slightly away. Those blue eyes still bore into his own green orbs with such a fierce clarity that it unnerved Arthur. The light from the hot iron in front of them seemed to not reflect off them. Only the sky blue continued to pierce through the oranges and red that lit up his face. He almost felt like an illusion in front of the soldier. Something so unearthly he couldn't place it.

Something seemed to register with the smith as he finally stood away from Arthur, and lowered the smoldering iron to his side. He continued to glare down at the soldier but had relaxed a bit in his stance now.

"I can imagine you'll only cost me more in wasted materials than you would in bringing me wages."

"Truly, Alfred, you saw how quickly I caught on with the wood cutting. Let me try and help you."

Alfred had turned to look out the large barn doors to the harbour beyond. Just slightly glancing at him from the corner of his eyes. The way he stood, almost lazily, with his weight on one leg stirred something in Arthur's stomach.

Just looking at him standing there is affecting me.

"I will let you try, but by the end of a month, if I've tossed more materials than you've produced then it's over. You can find some other way to repay me."

"Hang on, just because I am with the British army, does not give you the right to directly accuse me of having stolen from you."

Alfred was in front of him again, "You all wear red, so you're all the same."

He then turned as fast away as he had come, and moved back to the hearth.

Shaking off the accusation, Arthur followed behind Alfred only to pause suddenly noticing the linen wrappings had begun to unravel from his chest, and were trailing out from under his white shirt.

"Wait- before that let me change your bandages. I can do a better job now with you conscious." Arthur had moved closer behind him and had grasped the hem of the man's shirt to tug it out of his trousers.

Wrong card played, as Arthur suddenly felt the cold steel of the large anvil at his lower back, and one of Alfred's legs pressing in between the soldier's legs.

If he heat was bad in the forge before, it had grown much worse as Arthur's face lit up again. He quickly tried to avert his eyes and embarrassment from the smith, but the man only grabbed his chin to force him to look back at him.

"I told you to run, yet you came back." Arthur let out a sudden moan as the smith ground his leg against Arthur's groin. "You were thinking about me in the barn last night as you stroked yourself to completion." Alfred's hand then went to fondle Arthur's slowly stiffening member through his trousers. Arthur could only lean back to try to keep himself together but the smith's manipulations were quickly arousing him. "Is this what you want, Brit?" He had undone the buttons of Arthur's trousers, and his strong hand was now wrapped around his stiffening cock.

Arthur could do nothing but bite his lip as he tried to look through half-lidded eyes at the man before him. Even his thoughts escaped him as all he could do was watch the smith in front of him, silently stroking Arthur's arousal as he just stared back at the soldier's prostrate form.

"A British soldier being wanked off by a colonist rebel. I never thought I'd have such a pleasure."

Arthur wanted to say something, to try to persuade the man he would be on his side until Alfred disappeared from his sight and his cock was suddenly enveloped by Alfred's lips.

He moaned louder now as he tried to lean up on the anvil to see exactly what Alfred was doing.

Those sky blue eyes looked up at him now as Alfred took the soldier's length deep into his mouth. Sucking and stroking him at the same time. Arthur swallowed the growing lump in his throat as he watched Alfred's head move up and down on his erection. He almost couldn't take it anymore as he felt his balls tightening, preparing for release.

"Al-fred... I-"

At Arthur's shuddering mention of the smith's name, he heard the man moan himself around Arthur's cock, only sucking harder now.

He couldn't hold back any longer and with a grunt Arthur spilled his seed deep down Alfred's throat. The smith seemed ready though as he greedily swallowed the soldier's cum, hardly flinching as he did.

Arthur's body shook slightly as his arms grew weak in trying to hold himself upright on the anvil. He felt his now flaccid member slip from Alfred's mouth and the smith stood up from his kneeling position below him.

Arthur just barely caught the sight of Alfred tucking himself away before he began to walk to the forge barn doors.

"W-wait-"

"I need a drink. Clean yourself up and you can fix these damn bandages you're so keen on maintaining." And with that the smith left Arthur alone in the forge.

His thoughts were still muddled, and he could make nothing of their strange situation. He felt it best right now to do what the smith said, and follow him for a drink himself.

A/N: Well- a lot went down in this chapter. *giggles* I'd like to apologize now as I jumped ahead and posted this without running it by my beta. I was just too eager to get it posted. 3 However, now that a good chunk of smut is out of the way, I will be taking my time in posting the coming chapters so they're properly edited.

Thank you as always for the lovely reviews, favs, and alerts! I'm so happy everyone is enjoying this story as much as I am in writing it. ^^

Please do continue to leave your thoughts on the story. I love to read them and do reply as much as possible to everyone. Your comments really help inspire me, so thank you again! 3

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