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The Cost of Asking For Directions

Summary:

At the final stage of their journey, what is Arthur willing to give up in exchange for information?
A lot, actually.

Notes:

Very dubious levels of consent here at any given moment. Let Arthur have a bad time. He's earned it.

Work Text:

"Alright, boys. Au Revoir!"

"Wait!" Arthur and John both cry out at once.

Manager has only just raised his hand to snap them both away. His fingers poised, he looks at them expectantly. "Wait for what?" he asks.

Arthur's the one to stumble over his words. "I just- We- We need more information here! Don't just send us off to the Dark World with no idea what we're doing."

"Information? Really?" Manager laughs. Pulls out another cigarette and lights it, taking a slow drag. "You want me to spend time I don't have giving you information you don't need? That's cute, Arthur."

"Don't you have anything else to tell us? You said we have everything we need, but-"

"And you do! You have your lighter, you have each other, you have love, or hope, or whatever that's kept you going this long. What more could you want?"

"Some direction, maybe?" Arthur fidgets with the lighter before stowing it in his pocket. "When we get there, where will we be? Where should we go?"

Manager flicks his cig and considers this. "Well, what's it worth to you to know?"

"Anything, right Arthur? We'll need all the help we can get."

Arthur shrugs. "Sure, anything. We've got nothing left to lose now."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that-" Manager mumbles. "If I'm getting something out of this, it won't be material in nature. I could put you to work, cleaning dishes or performing as this week's headliner, but we don't have that kind of time! So how about... Oh." He grins wickedly. "Arthur, get on your knees for me."

"Here?" Arthur's body tenses.

"Here's good. Anywhere's fine. We could go up on stage, but i doubt you'd want an audience for what comes next."

A wave of understanding washes over Arthur. "Ah, right. Here it is then." He dutifully lowers himself to his knees. Manager approaches him.

"Arthur?"

"Oh, good boy, Arthur," Manager coos, "Now, open your mouth just a little."

"He's holding the mouthpiece of his cigarette toward you."

"Take a nice long drag and hold it for me, won't you?"

Arthur leans forward and parts his lips until they meet the mouthpiece. He takes a long, slow drag, filling his lungs with bitter, scalding smoke. He closes his mouth around it as the cig is pulled from his lips, and holds his breath. With each second, the ache in his chest grows more and more urgent.

Manager asks for his hand. the left one, and Arthur obeys.

"Arthur, he's going to-"

Manager puts the cigarette out on the knuckle of his pinky, where the flesh meets wood.

The smoke leaves Arthur's lungs in a burst as he screams and tugs his arm away. "Fuck! what are you doing?!"

Manager shrugs and tosses the butt away. "I just wanted to know if you could feel that, and now I do. So thanks."

"Is that all you wanted?" John demands. "Now you'll tell us-"

"Aaaaah, no, that wasn't all I wanted," Manager says. "That was just getting started. Foreplay, if you will."

A cough shakes its way out of Arthur, then another.

"John, I want to show Arthur something, but I need you to refrain from describing it. Sound good?"

"No."

"It better."

Arthur hears the rustling of fabric, close to him. He hears John gasp. "Alright, Mr. Lester. Open your mouth again for me, a little bit wider this time." Arthur's heart beats rapid fire. His lips tremble, but he does as he's told. "Good, just like that," Manager whispers. He gently grasps the back of Arthur's head. "Now, come and get a taste."

A nest of branching, spiny tendrils greets Arthur's face, pulling him in closer til his mouth meets the manager's groin. He doesn't know what his lips are bumping up against, but it's wet and warm and smells delicious. He pops his tongue out to taste it, as ordered. His tongue brushes up against the hole at the soft, soaking center of it. The flavor is overwhelmingly sweet-- something Arthur would refuse at any other occasion. But the Manager's hand holds him in place. He licks again.

Both of the Manager's hands rest on the back of his head now, fingers curled up tightly in his hair, keeping him steady. Arthur eats him out at a maddeningly slow pace, licking and sucking at the wet flesh, dipping his tongue into the sopping hole. Manager has to pull him away once or twice; reminds him to keep breathing, before letting Arthur dive back in for more.

"You're doing great, Arthur," he whines. "And I know what question is burning on your mind." Something firm pushes against Arthur's tongue, slipping out from the center. It keeps pushing, growing firmer and thicker as more of it appears. "Kayne and I, We're not exactly the same, no. There are some differences." The new appendage-- a thick, slick tentacle pushes past his tongue now, moving down into his throat. Arthur squirms, caught off guard by the intruder, but Manager holds him firm. "I heard his has teeth."

Arthur reaches up with both hands and grabs Manager by the hips. He pushes him away, just enough to slip the tentacle out of his throat, just enough to breathe. Once he's sure he's not about to pass out, Arthur surprises himself. He pulls Manager's hips toward him and buries his mouth in again. He loses himself in it, with a tight wet hole clenching around his tongue and a thick, pulsing tentacle down his throat. He spreads his legs apart, just a little, to adjust to his growing arousal between them. It takes a few tries for him to hear:

"Arthur! Are you alright?"

Manager yanks him back by his hair, pulling out of and off of Arthur's mouth all at once. "Oh my goodness, look at you, Arthur. Enjoying yourself?"

Arthur's head clears little by little. "I'm- That was- ...Do you want me to keep going? Finish you off?"

"Hmm not if you want to keep your tongue. Tempting, though! Get up for me, Arthur."

 

"Arthur?" John repeats. "Are you okay?"

"I am," Arthur assures him, slowly and shakily getting up off his knees. "I just need a moment."

"We don't have all night, Mr. Lester. Up."

"Fucking- Christ, alright." Another moment and he's up on his feet. He's dizzy, but standing.

"Good! Now, take your pants off, and get up on the desk."

"Arthur, whatever you did just now definitely had an affect on him. His face is flushed, his eyes-"

"Ah! You don't need to tell him all that, John. Be quiet for a few minutes, hm? Besides, you should see your boy here. Talk about affected."

Arthur stumbles out of his trousers, nearly tripping over them. his face feels hot, his hair clings around his ears and forehead, sticky with sweat. He ignores all the other signals his body is giving him. They don't matter. He shakes his head, to clear away the last of the dizziness. "I'm fine," he tells them.

"Looks like you enjoyed that, Arthur! I'm surprised."

He tosses his pants to the ground. "I didn't enjoy any of it," he says. "I was just doing what you told me to."

"I didn't tell you to get hard, did I?"

His hands rush to cover up his cock, to try and push it back down. "John, where's the desk?" he asks, quietly.

"Behind you, to your right. Arthur, if you don't want to do this anymore, I understand. If it's too much..."

"I'm going to finish what I started. We need to know what we're heading into." He feels around for the top of the desk, and backs up onto it.

Manager's cackle startles him, a bit closer than he expected. "Oh, this is still about information, is it? Up on the desk, Arthur. Don't make me repeat myself again."

Arthur obeys, sitting himself on the edge of the desk. "You think I want this?"

"Spread your legs for me."

His cheeks are burning hot, his heart racing. But slowly, Arthur parts his knees, presenting himself fully. Manager steps up between them. Traces a line up Arthur's thighs with his fingertips. "I think you do. I think you've fantasized about something like this happening."

"No! Of course not!" Arthur tries to snap his legs shut. His thighs knock up against the Manager's hips. "That's fucking ridiculous, when would I even have the time??"

"Hmm, are you sure? I'm not so convinced. You're saying you don't want me to fuck you, right here on this desk?"

Arthur's mind goes quiet, but his body responds to that clearly. "N-no, I don't."

Manager laughs, quieter this time. "Again, not very believable. Prove it to me, Arthur." He steps closer. The branching tendrils between his legs brush up against Arthur's inner thighs. "Make me believe you don't want this, and I'll stop. Yeah?"

"...Okay."

He steps forward again, his pelvis now pressed up to Arthur's. His tendrils reach out in every direction, grasping at Arthur's warm skin. He pulls Arthur in for a kiss, slips his tongue between his teeth, and can damn near taste the surprised whimper it draws out of him.

"Arthur, he's locking eyes with me."

Arthur closes his damn eyes. He comes to his senses and plants his hands on Manager's chest, pushing him back. "Don't do that!"

"No kissing? Spoilsport. That's half the fun. " Manager's tendrils reach out and wrap themselves around Arthur's prick. "Lay down for me," he orders.

"No, Fuck you!"

"Better, but you sounded a bit breathy. You should feel it deep in your throat, I think." He pushes Arthur down too easily, pinning him flat against the desk.

"Arthur, what are you doing?? Fight back! Push him off of you."

"Yes, Orthur. Fight back. Make it fun for me."

He tries, really tries for a moment, to shove this monster away, to wriggle out from underneath him and get free. But then, where would he even go? This is His domain, he has all the power here. He also has many tendrils wrapped around Arthur's cock, which Arthur... doesn't mind at all.
Manager shoves Arthur back down, with both hands around his throat. All the fight leaves Arthur's body. "Please," he begs.
"He's flashing you a big smile, Arthur."

Manager doesn't say anything. He squeezes Arthur's throat briefly, just to tease. Then Arthur feels that thick tentacle, which moments ago was down his throat, press up against his ass.

"Oh god," Arthur whispers. Without thinking, he arches his back, and the thing slips inside him. He hears Manager’s soft gasp.

Manager rocks his hips up against Arthur, not thrusting the appendage into him, but guiding it forward, letting it snake its way up into Arthur's body. It spreads out inside him, grasping, climbing. It doesn't seem to end, slowly exploring more and more of his insides. Arthur's legs begin to shake. He digs his nails into the flesh of Manager’s wrists.

"Keep trembling around me. I love the way it feels," Manager tells him.

Arthur can scarcely do more than breathe at this point. All he's really aware of right now is the thing blooming inside of him, claiming more and more of his body with each passing moment. Though, the tiny tendril teasing at the slit of his own dripping cock certainly catches his attention.

"Kayne, please, don't," Arthur whines.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Manager asks. He stills himself inside Arthur, sparing him just a single moment of clarity.

"I- I said 'please d-"

Manager's hands tighten around his throat for real, silencing him quickly. He leans in close enough for Arthur to feel his breath. "Mr Lester, if you call me by His name again, i will put you through a cheese grater. Do you understand?"
Arthur nods slowly, unable to speak.

"Let go of him!"

Manager obliges, and air rushes into Arthur's lungs again. The movement inside him resumes. Arthur's body convulses slightly at the rush, and he comes.

"Aww, I guess you are enjoying this! Looks like I was right!" Manager barely restrains his cackling laughter.

Arthur can't find the strength to argue this time. He closes his eyes and lets the Manager keep fucking him into sweet oblivion. After his fourth dry orgasm though, Arthur gives in. He knows he physically can't take any more. "Manager, please," he begs, his voice shaking.

"What did I tell you?" Manager asks, in a mock scolding voice. His hands release Arthur's neck, trailing slowly down his body, to rest on his trembling thighs. "I'll stop when you can convince me you don't want it. Show me where your limit is, Arthur. I asked how much this information is worth to you. Tell me when to stop."

Arthur blinks back the tears welling up in his eyes. "Please, stop." He tilts his head back and wraps his legs around the Manager's hips. "Please, Manager. I can't take any more. I'm done."

"Oh, seems like you really have hit your limit," Manager teases. "I should warn you, pulling out may take me a while. I got a little too into this, if you know what I mean.

Arthur feels it shifting, slowly creeping its way back out of him, inch by inch. Little by little, it becomes easier for him to breathe.

"While you wait, is it alright if I come, too?" Manager asks, sweetly.

"To... to the Dark World?" Arthur's head is swimming.

He laughs, leans forward a little. "No, you silly goose! I mean inside you.

Arthur's heart races once more. "Sure," he whispers.

"Oh, thank you!"

"Wait, don't-"

The room around them shifts, feeling suddenly a little bit colder. The air feels heavy, tinged with a strange taste that Arthur remembers, but can't quite name. Something sharp, metallic, that reminds him of thunderstorms. His heart flutters, his hair stands on end. There is a quivering deep inside him, and then lightning strikes.


He wakes, still on his back, still half naked, and still spread out on the Manager's desk. He smells cigarette smoke lingering in the air. Hears the tail end of something John is saying, but not enough to make sense of it.

"Well, if he knew you were gonna be traveling by horseback, he should have made sure Arthur could actually ride," Manager replies. "You don't send someone on a task that important without proper training! It's reckless."

"Exactly! It- Oh, Arthur! You're awake."

"John. What-"

Sorry about that, Arthur. I was a little pent up. Your mind shouldn't suffer any permanent damage, though. I fixed you up good."

"Wh-"

"Oh, but! I really should be sending you two on your way. We didn't exactly have time to be doing all that. It was fun though, right? Wasn't it fun? We should do it again some time if you two ever make it out of the Dark World." He laughs. "Please, don't fuck this up," he adds.

Slowly, Arthur pieces things back together. "Oh!! The directions!" He scrambles to sit back up. "We agreed-"

Manager pushes him back down. "We did, yes. Just, lay back down. Trust me." He places the lighter on Arthur's chest. Reluctantly, Arthur obeys. "Good. Now, as for directions, it's simple." He raises his hand, fingers poised to snap once more. "Where I'm sending you, there's really only one direction you can go. And that's UP."

"Up??"

"Good luck, boys! Au revoir!!" He snaps his fingers, and they are gone.