(no subject)
Title: 'Kilt'
Pairing: Sharpe/Wellington
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut for smut's sake.
The wall was cold and one of stone edges scraped his shin. Arthur did not pay attention. His arms were wound around Sharpe's shoulders as the man pressed him against the wall in the backgarden of the headquarters building. The night was chilly but Arhtur's skin was flushed with alcohol and arousal.
'Perhaps, I should consider wearing a kilt more often, Sharpe.' Whispered Arthur with a smirk as Sharpe pressed his length against his thigh, so obviously in lust, the younger man's lips fastened onto his neck.
'Do you really want to risk me taking you in front of an entire camp? We've barely escaped tonight.' Finally managed Sharpe, one hand slipping under the heavy wool of the kilt to stroke Arthur's naked thigh.
'Ah..Perhaps not then.' Arthur's fingers tangled in Richard's hair, pulling him down for a kiss, his own hips bucking forward to press his length against the thigh that Sharpe placed between his legs. He breathed in sharply at the contact and then moaned into the kiss, as Sharpe's fingers slid over his cock.
Sharpe wrapped his hand around the cock and began to jerk Arthur off: the man's head fell back against the stones, his eyes fluttering shut, hands falling back on the Captain's shoulders and fingers digging into the flesh. 'God...Richard... Oooh...' Sharpe was doing it just right, but tonight Arthur definitely wanted more than this. He gathered up his remaining willpower and looking straight at Sharpe, demanded with his best command voice: 'I want you to fuck me, Richard.' Sharpe's hand stuttered on his cock and his breath hitched.
'Here, Arthur?' And really, the rifleman had already agreed if the way his hands were now stroking Arthur's ass under the kilt was anything to go by.
'Yes, here. And now, if you please.' Stated Arthur with a customary glare.
'Christ, Arthur...' Sharpe was already unfastening his trousers, practically moaning when his straining and flushed cock was freed. They kissed fiercely and sloppily as Sharpe fingered him in preparation. Then, Richard turned Arthur to face the wall and spreading his legs, hitched the kilt up baring his ass. Arthur let out a choked moan as he imagined what they must look like and then gasped, as Sharpe entered him in one smooth stroke, filling him. Richard rode him hard and fast with Arthur bucking backwards to meet his thrusts wantonly. They tried to be quiet, but moans and gasps still escaped them, and when Richard took his cock in hand again, Athur nearly cried out. The orgasm came almost too soon, with Arthur pressing his forehead against the cold wall and spilling his seed all over Sharpe's hand and the inner side of his kilt. Richard rode him through the orgasm, enjoying the wild ride that ensued as the General twitched and spasmed. And then he came too, his teeth biting sharply into the exposed skin of the other man's neck. They remained joined for several moments, then Sharpe slipped his wilted cock out and turned Arthur back to face him. Their eyes were still glazed over and no one would have to guess at what they'd just been doing. Sharpe lowered Arthur's kilt as they kissed lazily.
'Richard, I suggest you clean up after yourself: your semen is trickling down my thighs.' Sharpe grinned lazily and kneeled in front of the General, his head disappearing under the kilt. Arthur's fingers twitched: maybe the other guests could wait a little longer.