CYOA3 – Farmer's Delight – Chapter 16: A Soldier's Heart

Previously: Farmer unwittingly stumbled across Elliott and Kent hooking up together in Elliott's cabin.

Content this chapter: mentions of cheating/active cheating; rimming; feelings of guilt; exhibitionism/voyeurism

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Farmer is relaxing in the Stardrop Saloon for once. He’s spent the whole day tending to the farm and making sure his animals and crops were all well taken care off before realizing he’s had himself a nice, free evening and that he could spend it in the warm, happy atmosphere of the establishment.

The jukebox is playing a tune, volume just low enough to not make it jarring as he sits at the bar and lets Gus ply him with some drinks. He thinks he could really go for it. Last time had been fun, though this time he would really enjoy getting actually filled by that meaty cock he knows the other has.

It just went by in such a fever haze, and after taking the billard balls, too, that he hadn’t been able to properly enjoy…

“This seat taken?”

Farmer startles, his back going a bit straighter as he turns to peer over his shoulder at the other. It is Kent, standing there with his customarily tight expression, his large hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

He slouches just enough to make him a spitting image of his son, and if that doesn’t immediately endear him to Farmer…

“Sit,” he tells him imperiously and pats the bar stool next to him. He’s playing it cool but in reality his heart is thumping fast and excited against his ribcage. There are a lot of open seats all around the bar where Kent could be sitting and minding his own business – which as far as Farmer had been concerned, had been his modus operandi – but he chose instead to sit with him.

That has to count for something, right? Unless, of course… He stares at Kent’s tight, perpetually pissed-off face. Unless, of course, he somehow found out that Farmer has been fucking his son and he was about to rip him a new one?

Farmer drums his fingers against the cold glass of the beer he’s been nursing. Gus is still standing just an arm’s length away, his jovial, red-cheeked expression not changing, but something in Kent’s face must give him a pause because he starts to shift away and down the bar to leave the two of them to their own devices after putting another beer out for the newcomer.

Farmer shifts a little on his barstool, wondering what is going on. Kent is stoically silent right next to him which starts to calm him down again and makes him think that he is not actually here to give him the shovel talk or something. That would have been a turn off. Mmmh or maybe not? Now that he thinks about it, there is something devastatingly hot about getting chewed out by a man like Kent.

“You… uh…” Kent stops himself, clears his throat awkwardly and seems to get nervous when Farmer turns his curious eyes on him. “...You been having a good day?”

Painful. That is what it is. Kent is trying to slip back into normal society but to Farmer he feels almost like a dog that’s been roaming the streets for too long; and from the constipated expression on his face, he knows it, too.

Farmer decides not to be an ass about it and smiles at him crookedly. “Yeah. Nice and productive, actually. ‘S why I can be here tonight.” He nods toward the wall of spirits behind the bar and lifts his bottle in a silent toast. Kent follows him suit, looking visibly a little more relaxed, which is good.

Farmer stares at him again just out of the corner of his eyes. Seeing him makes him inevitably think of the last time he’s seen him. Balls deep inside Elliott, fucking him in the most affectionate way possible while still somehow managing to be filthy about it.

Farmer wonders if that is just his own overactive imagination, though. Whether the whole situation with Elliott having a surprisingly filthy mouth had elevated the whole scenario into new stratospheres.

“And you?” he asks finally when it looks like Kent won’t be forthcoming with any more smalltalk. “How was your day? What… are you doing these days anyway?” He thinks briefly about it. “Are you just on vacation between deployments?”

Kent smiles but there’s nothing mirthful about it. He doggedly stares at his own beer, thumb dragging through the condensation. “This is nothing like vacation,” he mutters, then shakes his head and glances over toward Farmer. He looks tired overall but there is also something… peaceful about him? “I’m not between deployments. I’m done with the military. Just… living life now. Pension and all that.” He gets a bit of a constipated look which Farmer doesn’t know whether that is his usual constipated look or a more special one. “It’s difficult.”

“How so?” He asks, turning a little more toward Kent. Just a few paces behind the other is Gus who nods encouragingly at Farmer and smiles underneath his bushy moustache. Hmm.

Kent glances down at the worn bar, then quickly back at Farmer and down again. He seems oddly shy all of a sudden, hunching his back until he seems to notice his bad posture and straightens his spine out again.

“I just feel like I do not have any purpose anymore. Jodi has a good grip on the boys. We’re not hurting for money. Vincent is happy I am back but the way he looks at me… I think he feels like I’m more of a stranger than his father. I was gone too long during the most important years of his life…”

He trails off and lifts his hand, palm swiping across his mouth and chin. Farmer can hear the soft scrape of the stubble even over the general din and the music. It occurs to him that he’s leaned far too close, so he moves back a little while Kent shakes his head, a haunted look entering his eyes.

“I am sorry. I don’t… I shouldn’t be telling you all this. Basically a stranger. That’s… I’m oversharing.”

“I don’t mind,” Farmer assures him smoothly. He really doesn’t, he realizes with an amused quirk to his lips.

“It sounds like you’ve been hurting to tell someone.” He slowly tips his almost empty glass on its edge and rolls it a little back and forth, pointedly not looking at Kent. “You… don’t have anybody you can tell these things to?”

He thinks that might have been too rude to say since Kent doesn’t immediately answer, but when he chances a glance over, the other looks thoughtful. There’s a hard look in his eyes, but not mean.

“No. S’pose I don’t. Or… it’s just… they’re too… soft.”

Farmer hums thoughtfully. Before he can further question, Kent makes a frustrated sound. “I just don’t want them to worry.”

Farmer blinks slowly. He doesn’t really feel like he should be sitting here and listening to Kent opening up his soul. It’s not that he minds, all that much, it is just… he feels like Kent is surprisingly soft himself and Farmer could do actual damage if he wasn’t careful with what he told him.

He startles when Gus’ meaty hand suddenly appears in his field of view, taking his glass away and replacing it with a bottle. “On the house!” His big mustache is trembling with mirth and he jerks his head toward the adjacent room with the billard table. “Why don’t you lads get comfortable on the couch in there? The young’uns won’t come in today anyway. Nice and private.”

Farmer squints at him, wondering what exactly his game was in all of this, but ultimately shrugs a shoulder. “Y’know, why not?” He slides off his seat, figuring the less he asks Kent for permission, the more likely he is to follow suit and… just as he thought, the other slides off his own bar stool after a moment of hesitation and trots after him like a good puppy.

He is so much like his son that it is downright hilarious. Just… desperately wanting someone to take over the lead. It’s sad, all things considered.

The couch is old and well-loved and all but sucks them in once they let themselves sink down with low groans.

“I won’t be able to get up from here again,” Farmer mutters as he leans his head back and closes his eyes. “Really getting too old for this stuff.”

“Mmh. It really does seem like something the kids would be more into.”

Farmer tuts softly. “They’re all adults now. Sooner or later they’ll be out and about. I do not think the Valley has enough to offer them.”

Kent stares at the bottle in his hand. “Jodi mentioned the same in her messages to me. But recently she said that kind of changed in the past few weeks.” He glances to the side at Farmer. “Since you came into the picture. At least Sam and Sebastian seem to think that working with you is a great opportunity.”

Farmer hides his grin in the neck of his bottle and takes a little swig. “Do they, now.”

Kent nods. “I am glad. Farm work is honest and clean. It’s better than wasting away as a cleaning boy at JoJa or do… whatever it is… Sebastian is doing.”

Farmer briefly considers defending Sebastian’s honor, but ultimately he lets it go. He does not suppose that a man like Kent is overly familiar with technology and he could choose his own battles.

“They’re good, young men. Very eager to help. Gotta be honest, it kind of took me by surprise. It’s not that it’s all ‘eye for an eye’ in the city, but…” he trails off as Kent nods in understanding and grunts.

That is that for a moment as they just sit quietly and Farmer inhales the spicy, masculine aftershave wafting off of Kent and ogles the thick, muscular thighs slightly rubbing up against his own.

He’s been putting on some muscle himself since starting the farm, but it’s all lean and not changing much of his tall and overall slender physique.

For a while there he is thinking that Kent might just be moping and quietly embarrassed over his sudden heart-to-heart earlier, but then he realizes the other is just slowly sinking deeper into the cushions of the couch and is… relaxing. He’s obviously a man of few words.

He and Elliott make a cute couple. Elliott seems like such a blabbermouth compared to the quiet, stoic man.

“So. Uhm.” Farmer perks up when Kent suddenly does break the comfortable silence between them.

“Hmn?”

Kent looks a little fidgety, digging at the label of his beer bottle with the edge of his nail.

“Gus told me you’re a… good guy.”

Farmer blinks slowly. He turns his head but the arcade machines are in the way and he can’t look over to the bar where Gus is tending to Pam and, presumably, Shane if he’s even still in the bar. There’s nobody else here tonight.

“O…kay?”

“He also told me that you. Um.”

Farmer rubs his chin slowly. He watches Kent’s profile for a few seconds before he clears his throat and reaches over, planting a hand on the other’s thigh. The muscles are just as devastatingly hard as they look like.

“Did he tell you about our… extracurricular activities?” His fingers slide to the inseam of Kent’s jeans, applying just enough pressure to make sure he feels it.

Kent’s gaze drops down. His expression is so intense for a second that Farmer wonders if he’s about to get his head bashed in after all. Kent exhales softly and his knees angle outward a little. Opening himself up for the touch as he keeps staring all grim and intense at his own beer.

The tips of his ears are now pink which Farmer thinks is entirely too endearing. His fingers wander upwards as he glances toward the main room of the saloon. Nobody had come in and at this hour he doubts there will be any more visitors.

He wonders if he can ask about Elliott but there is no real way for him to explain him knowing about that without making it look as bad as it actually had been, quietly perving on the two of them, so instead he mutters: “Your wife…?”

Kent swallows thickly. He still does not meet Farmer’s gaze even as his hand moves further up still and settles warm and heavy on Kent’s crotch. His cock is a nice bulge sitting right there in Farmer’s palm. He can feel it twitching even through the thick fabric of the jeans. His mouth waters.

“She uhm. She.” He shifts uncomfortably. “She… knows. But she doesn’t wanna… know.”

Farmer tilts his head a little. He leans down to gently put his beer bottle on the floor and shifts so he can better touch Kent. He can’t say that he understands what the other is saying, but… “So she’s… alright with this?”

Kent flushes hotter.

“Sh-she knows I’m a-”

“Cheat?”

“Slut.”

Kent’s free hand is on his thigh and curling into a helpless fist. He looks like the admission physically pained him. Farmer tilts his head to the other side, eyes roaming the other’s tense body. In his professional opinion, Kent wasn’t a slut but simply had needs, but he’s no therapist or anything. He wonders if that is how he explains away his attraction to Elliott.

A little bit of denial. A little bit of self-flagellation. Farmer can’t say that it doesn’t turn him on like crazy.

“A slut, huh?” he croons, thumb pushing against the warm bulge that has only been growing in his grip, eyes glittering as he slowly looks Kent up and down. The way they are sitting, he can mostly hide the other’s body with his back. Nobody looking their way would be any the wiser that Farmer is now sliding his hands up underneath Kent’s shirt to feel the hard planes of his body.

Fuck, but there is something mesmerizing about soldiers in particular. He can feel that those muscles aren’t only there for show. They aren’t there because they’re pretty. There’s still a fine layer of fat there that he pinches between his thumb and forefinger. Kent’s breath hitches. His eyelids grow heavy and what Farmer can still see of his eyes is glittering so wet he’d say the other man is about to cry.

Farmer leans in and presses his mouth against the hinge of Kent’s jaw. He suckles a little kiss there until he makes a high-pitched, helpless little sound and turns his head away just a smidge.

“No marks,” he gasps softly. “...Please.”

Farmer’s mouth twitches He rolls that tiny bit of fat between his fingers, then lets go and soothingly scratches his blunt nails through the crisp little hairs growing in a tantalizing line beneath Kent’s belly button.

“Of course,” he purrs. “But you have to tell me who is not supposed to see. Your kids? Your wife?” He leans in closer as he speaks, breath whispering hot against the hard line of Kent’s jaw. His lips barely touch the stubble. He can feel how the other’s jaw is trembling. “... or your boyfriend?”

Kent makes a sound like a wounded animal; all throaty and desperate and his eyes are large and wet when farmer pulls away enough so that he can look into his face once more.

Kent’s mouth works for a moment but he does not ask. Maybe he’s afraid of the answer. The divot in his square chin looks impossible to resist just about then, so Farmer leans in closer and gives it a little kitten lick while he lets one hand trail down once more and play with the buckle of Kent’s belt.

Kent is not actually answering but that is alright. Farmer likes how cute and torn he is. How he is trying desperately to school his breathing into something nice and steady and not whimper like a little dog. The song in the background is still soft and still cheery; it feels electrifying when for one split second the clear clang of Kent’s open belt buckle drowns it out.

“I’m sad to hear you’re having so many doubts,” Farmer whispers against Kent’s chin and he blinks when he realizes that that really is the truth. His fingers gently open up the fly of Kent’s jeans, then dance across the warm fabric of his shorts, feeling the eager flex of his hot cock underneath.

“You don’t deserve it. You’re a good man.”

Kent makes a choked little sound and suddenly throws his arm across his eyes, his chapped lips hanging open as he pants.

“A good man who ch-cheats on his wife?”

Fuck. Maybe there really are still kinks out there that Farmer can discover because hearing this big, stoic man on the verge of tears, his throat trembling and lips looking so wet and inviting, he feels like he could shoot off just then and there.

“Alright, Pam. Have a good way home. See you tomorrow evening?”

“Yeah, Gus. Yeah, yeah… uh… s-sure.”

Farmer’s lips twitch as he hears the gentle jingle of the bell above the saloon’s door and then the sound of a lock clicking in place.

Smoothly, he slides off the couch and in front of Kent. Would you look at that. He can still get off the infernal thing after all. Crawling and on all fours, but who cares when he can nudge Kent’s legs apart and crawl between to rub his cheek against his warm bulge like an affectionate cat.

“You can be a nasty cheat and a good man,” he purrs. He’s not actually all too sure about that but he really desperately wants that dick and as hot as it is to see Kent’s eyes swimming with tears, he does not think he can keep him hard if he actually starts sobbing.

He turns his head and nuzzles his nose against him, inhaling the scent of his cock through his underwear and pulling it into his lungs like he’s needed to inhale dick the whole damn day. He kind of did. It’s always in the back of his mind.

Dick, dick, dick… Dick and cock and big fat shlongs because as much as he loves his new live, he had been able to fuck himself silly every evening in the city. These days he’s usually too damn exhausted to do anything of the likes.

But every now and then an opportunity like this arose. Getting to open his mouth nice and wide and close it around a hot, throbbing cock and suck it through the fabric of the man’s underwear.

Of hearing Kent’s breath hitch on half a sob and half a moan and feel his big, strong hand spear into his hair to grip his skull.

“Ah… sh-shit-” Kent stutters.

Farmer rolls his eyes up to peer at him and when he sees that he has Kent’s undivided attention, he makes a show out of dragging his tongue against his quickly soaking underwear.

Kent stares down at him with his eyes wide and deliciously wet and his mouth hanging open.

“You can pretend I’m someone else, if you want,” Farmer croons, an electric little jolt racing along his spine at the thought. “I don’t mind. Actually… it sounds pretty hot. Making you call me by someone else’s name. Someone you’d rather have sucking your big. Fat. Dick.” He accentuates each word with a wet, sucking kiss of Kent’s clothed cock, feeling it flex desperately beneath his ministrations.

He opens his lips around the swollen tip and when he sucks he can taste Kent’s salty pre-cum through the fabric. His eyelids flutter and his eyes roll up into his skull as the taste explodes on his tongue.

Kent doesn’t make a sound at all as far as Farmer can tell but the blood in his ears is also rushing pretty loud and he’s focused on the sight of the swollen, meaty cock slapping against Kent’s abs the moment he carefully pulls his wet shorts down.

It’s just as juicy and delicious looking as it was when he peeked through the window. Secretly watching Kent and Elliott fucking in that little cabin by the sea.

“You can’t be s-s-serious.”

Farmer glances up, then, his hand gently palming Kent’s cock, thumb sliding along the sensitive triangle of nerves just underneath his glans. Kent is staring down at him with his eyes blazing and his cheeks ruddy red. His eyes still look so wet and that little stutter he’s been having is only adding to how desperately horny Farmer feels for him.

He just holds his gaze as he slowly opens his mouth, tongue out over his teeth like a wonderful little red carpet. Just like that old gay taught him when he took his virginity so many years ago now. He pops Kent’s cock in just like that; makes a show of rubbing it along the slick cushion and then tapping it against the muscle for good measure.

He’s making a mess, slick and saliva quickly pooling under his tongue and starting to drip fro him chin. He can feel Gus’ eyes on them, though. Lurking somewhere and watching the whole thing unfold. He’s sure the horny bastard will give him a paper towel or two later to clean up.

Kent’s eyes are huge now. His hands are folded into meaty fists at his sides. Farmer wishes he would grab at him but he feels like right now this is the safer option. Kent looks like he could accidentally pop his skull like a grape. It’s insanely hot.

Farmer closes his lips in a messy kiss and noisily slurps up the pre-cum that has gathered in the fold of Kent’s foreskin. His eyes flutter shut, his stomach growing tight and needy as the liquid rolls down his throat.

He does not think Kent will take him up on the offer. The other seems to be hellbent on being miserable tonight; thinking he’s some kind of deviant or whatever. Maybe that gets him going all on its own, Farmer isn’t all too sure. Something is keeping him desperately hard and throbbing, at least, and Farmer is very thankful for that.

Which is why he’s so startled when suddenly Kent does moan a name – and it isn’t Farmer’s; all reedy and soft, one huge hand landing on top of Farmer’s head, he whispers: “Elliott…”

Farmer can’t exactly put his finger on why that in particular turns him on so much. Maybe a part of him did expect Kent to start moaning his wife’s name. Expect him to be a goody two shoes and at least try to pretend like it was Jodi on her knees for him, her pink mouth stretched soft around his cock, trying to get him to the brink of insanity so she would be able to straddle him afterward and let him put another baby in her belly…

Kent just seems like that straight laced sort of guy. Like the guy that commits to the bit of father and when his wife opens her legs for him, he does not question it but just gives her another fat load that she can work over into a little human being.

But then again… then again-

Farmer has seen him with a man. He’s seen how awfully fond Kent had looked and right now he can taste how he is dripping with renewed excitement, his fingers gentle but firm as they spear into Farmer’s hair.

There’s a moment of uncertain hesitation then; the illusion marred by the fact that Farmer doesn’t have Elliott’s long, luscious hair – but then Kent catches himself and tilts his hips up, fucking shallow and careful into Farmer’s mouth.

Lets himself slip into the fantasy like a good boy. Like father, like son. They are so alike it is uncanny. Farmer is certain that if he told Sam to imagine Sebastian while he got fucked, the young man would take to it like a fish to water.

They even get the same dreamy expression when they get their cock fondled. All wet eyes and bitten lips. Beautiful.

Farmer slowly moves his head, sucking indulgent and slow whenever he lifts it back up, wet lips dragging along Kent’s fat shaft. He can feel the vein along the underside pulsing against his tongue. For all that Kent had been shy and uncertain, his heartbeat is slow and steady. A strong, hypnotizing throb held in Farmer’s hungry mouth.

However, when it becomes apparent that Kent actually wants to participate instead of simply getting serviced and closing his eyes and thinking of England- ah- Elliott-

Farmer lets him gladly. He stops the bobbing of his head and relaxes his throat and rubs his tongue in an inviting little figure eight against Kent’s frenulum until the other gets with the program.

He holds Farmer’s head oh-so gently, oh-so tenderly and curls forward. He gives himself some leverage to start humping away, little grunts of effort spilling forth. The position is awkward all in all and can’t be all too comfortable for Kent, but he soldiers through. Hah.

Farmer’s eyes are closed, savoring the feeling of a cock nudging deeper and deeper into the back of his throat – until Kent finally gets with the program and starts to push into the soft, relaxed glottal opening like it’s a virgin cunt he’s spearing into for the first time.

Kent makes a shocked little sound in the back of his throat. His hips keep nudging, fucking upwards in little rushed movements; sweet rabbit thrusts that have Farmer’s eyes roll into his skull and wet little gurgling groans pumped out of his throat whenever Kent’s crown is not plugging him up.

He fucks both like he is new to it and also not. His hands are big and warm, cradling Farmer’s skull, making sure to keep him nice and in position – but the sounds he makes are out of this world.

When he last saw him with Elliott, he had been so stoic and silent mostly except for those punched out little praises that had slipped out through his teeth like he had simply been unable to keep them back. Like he wanted to, but Elliott had simply been too slutty and needy to actually keep himself in check and not let him know how desperately into the whole thing he had been.

How curious that he would change that up for Farmer. Maybe he sees Farmer more as some kind of escort. A free-of-charge whore that he can do whatever he wants with because it does not matter in the end. They’re not in love. They are not in an exciting new relationship where one of them is painfully pretty and with his head all in the clouds and whines about being called a pretty girl.

Farmer goes a bit cross-eyed at the thought. He likes it. He likes being so cheap that he’s considered a whore in Kent’s mind. That he’s not even asking about paying him-

Kent suddenly slumps back into the thick cushions of the couch. He’s panting open-mouthed, his abs trembling every now and then as his cock flexes in Farmer’s obediently open mouth. He peers up at him, curious, wondering what was going through the soldier’s head in that moment.

When Kent just lies there, his heavy erection on Farmer’s cock and no sign that he will start fucking him again, Farmer slowly pulls away with a lewd slurp. He presses a smacking kiss right against the crown of Kent’s cock and briefly nuzzles his cheek against it before he shuffles further back and begins to open Kent’s boots.

The other is quiet. He does not question Farmer and he does not ask what he is doing; just stares down at him with a stony expression that does not look as foreboding anymore as it had in the beginning.

By now Farmer has the distinct feeling that Kent is simply exceptionally socially awkward. He lets his pants and underwear get pulled down his legs and when Gus stops pretending he is not watching the whole thing and comes to lean against the arcade machines to openly just watch, Kent stares at him just as helplessly as he had at Farmer.

“Good boy, Kent. Just gettin’ what you need, are you?” Gus croons. Farmer briefly wonders what their age difference is. They’re both impossible to guess. 

Kent makes a little sound in the back of his throat. Awkward and pathetic and his big hands hovering around Farmer’s head. He’s been so calm and dominant with Elliott the last time Farmer saw him. He wonders which of the two the real Kent is. Maybe some eclectic mix.

Maybe he just needs to feel nice and safe to be a bit assertive.

Gus chuckles and Kent blinks, some more awareness finally returning to his gaze the same time that Farmer puts his pants to the side and shuffles in close, nudging and prodding until he got Kent’s legs over his shoulders.

“I. Um.”

His hands are now on the edge of the plush couch cushion, holding it in a white knuckled grip. Farmer grins up at him and gives his legs a good tuck, pulling Kent until his ass his hanging half off the cushion and he is all but lying prone. “Um!” he grunts again, but no sound comes out. He’s just wide-eyed and a bit wild looking.

Farmer glances at Gus who grins at him all broad and unconcerned and gives him a thumbs up.

Farmer blinks at him a few times, then shrugs his shoulders and nuzzles his face against Kent’s cock. It is hot against his cheek and twitches with life and excitement. He mouths at the fragrant crease between the shaft and his balls, tongue darting out to taste the impossibly sensitive skin and the blood rushing underneath.

Kent sighs. His thighs start to slowly relax, the tightly flexed muscles going a little softer around Farmer’s ears as he kisses wet and sucking against Kent’s swollen nuts and opens his mouth wide to suck one of them in.

He does that for a bit, lets his mind wander to nothing in particular, shifting his attention from one swollen testicle to the other and letting himself feel the texture of the hair he’s laving his tongue across and inhaling deeply the scent of excited dick.

When everything is wet and feels hot and swollen, Farmer leaves Kent’s shifting, plump balls and ducks in just a little deeper still. He noses them up, lets them drape heavy across the bridge of his nose and angles his neck in a weird, uncomfortable way to get his questing tongue right where he’s wanted it to be for the past five minutes: Kent’s sweet little hole.

Against the slippery muscle it feels virgin tight. He can’t be sure of that of course but he likes to think that he’s mostly right. Maybe Kent experimented with a few of his thick fingers, but he does not see him as offering up his ass all too often. If ever.

Has Elliott gotten to ride the big, strong soldier yet? Had he been allowed to stuff him full of cock and make him whine like a sweet little bitch?

He jumps like he hadn’t had that happen to him yet. He chokes on his tongue and arches his spine, awkwardly pushing his hole harder against Farmer’s questing tongue. Surprising but certainly not unwelcome. Maybe he’s just been waiting for an opportunity like this. Waiting for someone to take care of him and his sweet virgin cunt.

His breath is whistling out of his throat. Farmer waits for him to start protesting; telling him that he shouldn’t be putting his mouth on another man’s asshole or some other shit, but he remains quiet. Other than those aborted little whines that he’s making, that is. All sweet and high-pitched and whiney.

Gus comes closer. His meaty hand comes down on the top of Kent’s head in a gentle petting motion.

“There you go. Doesn’t that feel nice?”

Farmer peers up with one eye at him – the other being closed underneath the heavy drape of Kent’s sac – and wonders what is agenda might be. By now it is clear that Gus had wanted just this to happen: for Farmer to be his usual whore self and solve the problem of Kent moping in his uniquely qualified way.

He feels a little ashamed that he’s been pegged down as the town whore so quick and neat. But in the end it gets him in situations like this. With his tongue on a fit soldier’s ass and his head getting squeezed between his thighs.

When Kent can bother to remember not to strangle Farmer in the hot, humid crevice of his ass and relax his legs a tiny bit, Farmer things that he can hear the soft trilling sound of a Junimo hidden away somewhere closeby – or maybe that’s just his imagination.

Not that he thinks Kent would vote for the selling of the Community Center – but it’s the thought that counts. He is thankful the little rascals are helping, in any way. Their magic always works so well… 

They must be close to done with the restoration of the Community Center by now, too.

Kent makes a whimpering sound. It’s so unfitting for his stature that it gives Farmer pause. His tongue is pressed against that tight little ring of muscle, not even trying to wriggle its way inside yet, and Kent is making sounds like the sweetest puppy anyway.

Like he can hardly hold himself back as is. There’s something hot leaking down Farmer’s forehead and dimly he realizes that it must be Kent’s precum.

He fumbles to reach around the other’s thigh and grab his cock, but Gus is faster than he. He leans down and curls his fat fingers around Kent’s dick. His voice is all gentle and genuine care when he says: “It’s alright. Just let go. You’re being a very good boy. Next time you just lean over for Elliott like that, you hear me? That lad would love fucking you into next week.”

He chortles a little laugh like what he’s said is nothing but wholesome.

That is interesting, though. So Kent and Elliott being an item is not as much of a secret as Farmer had thought…?

“W-W-What? How…?” Kent sounds strangled; like he can barely rub two brain cells together to get the words out.

Huh. Or maybe it should be a secret after all.

Farmer just lets them hash it out. He’s down between the thighs of a hot guy and he does not particularly care about anything else. His tongue is soft and warm and slick, laving against Kent’s hole while he whines and stutters and Gus just chortles again in that way that lets them know he thinks it’s very cute.

Farmer supposes he shouldn’t be underestimating a barkeep. They really do see and hear all kinds of things, it seems…

Gus keeps jerking him off slowly, fist big and meaty and gentle, fingers swiping up any slick that he can gather from the weeping tip and using it as lube until he clicks his tongue and offers his palm up to Kent.

“Lick,” he orders, and he does it so calm that Kent just follows suit.

Farmer can’t see it but he knows it because the moment Gus curls his spit wet fingers back around Kent’s cock, his hole clenches tight and desperate against the soft drag of his tongue.

He gets meaner then as well; more assertive; makes his tongue into a hard point and begins to try and squeeze it into the virgin clench of Kent’s ass.

He must take him by surprise because it works reasonably well; just him slipping in nice and easy and making Kent choke on his own tongue.

He’s overwhelmed, that much is clear. He tries to fuck up but has no leverage to do so. He just can lie there and take what they are giving. Gus keeps laughing at him. Farmer keeps fucking into his hole. It’s gradually opening up around his tongue; going soft and messy and addicting.

Spit is dripping down his chin copiously.

He pushes in harder, his teeth pressing against Kent’s rim. He thinks he feels his insides growing warmer for a second; thinks he can feel how he screws up tighter around him, hearing him yowl, his own brain lagging behind as he does not quite get that Kent is coming for them, hot, sticky cum hitting his abs in audible little splats.

Farmer kisses his hole goodbye as he pulls back slowly, a string of saliva connecting him to the gasping little muscle for the longest time before it breaks.

His ears are ringing but it sounds like one of the Junimo giggling – and Kent looks wonderfully fucked out; not an ounce of tension to be seen in his body.

At least he did a good deed tonight.