Don't Shoot the Messenger

Guerin was a courier, and one very dedicated to his job. Come sleet, come snow, come rain or shine, and whatnot. He had a job to do and he would do it. He was often used in times of war when kingdoms needed peace treaties, threats, surrenders, or alliances. Whatever the monarch who hired him needed him to deliver, he could get it there.

One such war was happening right now, and because of that, he was trying desperately not to run into one of the hordes of soldiers running rampant through the kingdom. They had no stabbing discretion apparently since he'd nearly been stabbed three times by knights working under the same monarch he did. So he was trying to avoid them and get to the castle he needed to get to. He had shirts to wear over his light chainmail, usually bearing the crest or insignia of whatever kingdom he was either heading to or coming from. It depended on how hostile either side was. Even wearing the same insignia as him, they still found a reason to try their luck at jabbing him. Apparently, no one had ever heard not to shoot the messenger.

Currently, he bore the sun insignia of Leoffavel. The castle was nearby, so he shouldn't have had to worry about an enemy knight finding him on his journey, but there was always the chance some dumbass would come by and try to kill him, so he hurried as best as he could. He could only go so fast without slipping in the mud. It had been raining for three days straight and he wasn't interested in getting any dirtier on this trip. No, after this, he was going to settle in at the nearest inn and take a nice long bath.

The castle gates loomed on the horizon and as he approached, he saw two golden-armored guards standing on either side. Great. Exactly what he needed. They were both far taller than him and incredibly intimidating. Guerin gripped the strap of his leather satchel tightly and walked up to them.

"No one's allowed in the kingdom right now," the guard on the right said. She eyed him lazily before focusing her gaze back on the path.

"I'm a courier. I have official business with Queen Moira," he explained.

"I dunno. We didn't hear anything about a mailman comin' to deliver something to the queen. How can we be sure you're not here to kill her?" The guard on the left had a gruff voice and bent down to see eye-to-eye with him. Under his helmet, he was smirking.

"I assure you, I have no intention nor capability of killing your queen. Now please, this is quite an important matter," he tried again.

"What do you think, Nadia? Should we let the little courier deliver his message?"

"Maybe you should check to make sure he doesn't have any weapons on him," Nadia replied. She grinned at her fellow guard.

"You heard her, you're gonna be searched. Come with me so I can make sure you don't have anything dangerous on ya." The guard gripped the back of his shirt tightly and pushed him through an opening to the side of the gate. It didn't lead anywhere, just an enclosed room with a table and a bed for guards to sleep in before their upcoming shifts.

"Is this really necessary? Surely you could just escort me to the throne if you're really so concerned I'm an assassin." The guard didn't say anything, just held out a hand for his bag. He sighed and pulled it over his head, letting it fall into the guard's outstretched palm.

"What's this?" The man was holding a letter opener he had custom made.

"It's a letter opener. Feel free to hold onto it while I'm here," he grumbled. The guard just threw it back into the bag. He dug through his belongings for a while longer, pulling out even the smallest shit that couldn't hurt a fly. His extra hat, an old sock he used to polish his boots, some loose string that had come from the inside of the satchel. He was even grilled about the letter he was meant to deliver to the queen!

Just when he was getting annoyed enough to snap at the guard, his satchel was tossed onto the small table. The guard pulled his hat off his head, didn't ask him to remove it, just pulled it off .

"Strip so I can make sure you don't have anything hidden on you." Guerin went bright red.

"You can't do this!" His protest was cut short by the guard leaning close.

"Oh, so you're not interested in delivering your letter?" That shut him up. He took off his yellow shirt, tossing it onto the growing pile of his possessions on the table. He was hesitant to remove the chainmail but was forced to anyway. The guard even made him take off his muddy boots and trousers. He stood stark naked in the cold room in front of the guard,

"Happy now?" Guerin shivered. The guard was circling him like a vulture, tutting about.

"Just one last check," was all he heard before two fingers slid between his legs. He squawked at the probing, cool fingers.

"Hey, you can't-" The guard pushed him onto the table, rubbing his fingers along Guerin's perineum.

"Oh, can't I?" The rough act had fallen away, and he heard a very familiar warm voice. His eyes fluttered as he realized what was happening.

"You didn't have to do all this just to get me alone. Could've just waited until I was done with my business," he grumbled. This whole thing had been a set-up, and of course, Nadia was in on it. How he hadn't recognized the name earlier, he wasn't sure.

"It's no fun that way, though." The guard set about removing his armor, metal skirt clanking to the floor. Guerin was made to suck on his fingers to get them wet before they pressed into him.

Gabriel was at least quick in his preparation. They both knew this needed to be done quickly, as a courier's business really was urgent. He hadn't even taken off his chest plate, pressing the cold metal into Guerin's back as he pushed his cock in. He shuddered and gripped the edge of the table.

Having such a tall partner was a blessing, as Gabriel was able to manhandle him however he wanted, usually to both of their benefit. He moaned as his soldier started to fuck into him just how he liked it. His hips were held at the perfect angle for Gabriel to hit his prostate each time and it left him a whining, drooling mess.

"You couriers will do anything to deliver your letters, won't you?" came the teasing voice in his ear.

"Through rain, s-snow, sleet or- oh fuuuuck," he broke off with a keening moan. It earned him a deep laugh and a tighter grip on his hips. He was surprised the rickety old table hadn't broken yet with how much rough treatment it had taken.

Gabriel moved from holding his hips to wrapping his arms entirely around his torso. He was hefted up and held tight to the guard's chest. He tried to reach for his cock to try to get himself off, but those tree-trunk arms were too big for him to reach around.

"Gabriel," he cried out. When he got no response he tried again, "Gabriel!" That earned him a grunt of acknowledgment. "Please, please touch me," he moaned.

"Little mailman wants me to touch his letter opener?"

"I will smack you, please just touch my dick." Finally, he got what he needed and Gabriel adjusted his grip to hold him with one arm so the other could stroke his cock. He threw his head back, leaning it against the cool metal armor pressed tight to his back. He was close already and getting a tight grip around his dick pushed him over the edge. He spurted cum all over his belly, whining and trying to fuck up into the hand for just a little more pleasure.

It didn't take long for Gabriel to switch back to a two-handed grip and thrust into him a few more times. He pressed in deep when he came, letting out a long groan. He was set back on the table to recover and narrowly avoided spreading the mess on his belly to the clothes piled on there as well.

"So, you're not s'posed to shoot the messenger, but is fucking the messenger alright?" Guerin groaned and reached a hand behind him to swat at him.

"You're the worst," he huffed.

"You didn't seem to think that when I was inside you." He couldn't argue with that. Guerin did have to get up eventually and redressed. He was escorted through the gate and sent straight to the throne room.

Guerin had done his job. The message was delivered, and he was free to go until the next monarch needed to send a declaration of war or terms of surrender. He made sure to give Gabriel a kiss as he passed through the gate before he started the trek home.