Date: Thu, 28 Sep 2017 07:43:14 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: The Heathens 29

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-heathens/) for warnings and
copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your
local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but
flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty
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*****

"Whatever God wills." I knew, but could not say, that God had already
willed and given me my sacred name through the Dream-Strasta weeks
before. I would become Szentély, the sanctum in which Harcos' heart
could dwell in safety. I knew, now, finally, that Strasta had spoken
truth. Harcos and I were meant to be joined, he my saviour and me his
sanctuary.

*****

The Heathens 29: That Damned Monkey

By Bear Pup

*****

The day was hot, long and cruel. The inexorable climb had no mercy. There
were no flat stretches; it was either up-up or down-up, transitioning one
to the other with no respite. The slopes were not steep, they were just
relentless. In fairness, the men each took a turn at the straps, none
riding Bu's mount but instead tethering it to a cart. It was still an hour
from sunset when Pameten called to Harcos.

"Servus! Brother-warrior! I'm dying. We're all dying. This stream looks to
flow down the side of that bluff. Why don't we camp in its lee?" Harcos
made no answer but turned sharply left and all of us gratefully
followed. Pam's eyes had been right. The stream burbled down the side of
the bluff from some unseen source halfway up. It formed a wide, shallow
pool at the base and then splashed its way down the shallow hillside to
cross the road we'd travelled.

It was clear that this place had seen camps before, and even I could see
the marks of Roman-trained soldiers. I was surprised at how cautious that
made the men. As we set up the tents and fire, they very carefully set up
the perimeter threads, stopping often to examine and discuss things. I
leaned to Furge and asked, "Why are they so nervous?"

"A spot that frequently sees camps will always attract predators, both
animal and human. If we all weren't completely worn out, we'd never have
stopped."

The relentless slopes had taken an uneven toll on the men. The smaller men
were winded, but Harcos, Sziklak, Pameten and Handart, the largest of the
men, could barely walk when they got back to the campfire with armloads of
wood. We built a very quick meal of roasted meat and grains. The four big
warriors were close to sleep by its end. I helped Harcos stumble to bed. He
was asleep before I got his last pieces of clothing off. I had to roll his
enormous body around to get the loincloth free.

I sat for a long time and simply marvelled at my barbarian warrior. The
deep, reddish-auburn fur that covered his enormous, wide-backed frame. The
thick bulges of muscles that moved slowly as he breathed (snored,
actually). The massive snake draped across his thigh, tumescent but not
hard. The thickness of it made me think of its taste on my tongue, the
perfect texture of his meaty foreskin, the precious nips of pungent cheese
hidden underneath.

I curled myself into Harcos, gently laying my head across his thigh,
falling asleep to what I knew would be wondrous dream since every breath
would flood me with his sweat and musk, the scent that had become more
important to me as bread or meat. I could live a long time on raw grains,
but could not imagine surviving without that sharp tang in my nostrils,
that deep, penetrating musk in my lungs.

Three hours later, Stelio woke us to take the middle watch. He said they'd
had to kill a wolf, but there was no sign of a larger pack. Thankfully, no
people seemed to be nearby. I dressed my master in his tunica and cuirass,
since trouble was likely. I took the three-pronged spear that had served me
so well with the wolves.

Harcos was still sluggish, but I knew how to solve that. He sat heavily on
rock that was his sentry point. I carefully laid the spear aside and dove
quickly under Harcos' tunica, taking him into my mouth before he could tell
me desist. After that, the idea of telling me anything seemed to flee from
my master. Within minutes, Harcos was moaning.

When he got to "Oh puppy. Oh, Kucuk! Yes, my Dasqas! Yes, my jewel. So
good. Sooooo good. Yes, yes!" I pulled off and out from under the garment
which now quite resembled a tent with a very large, very hard and (from the
stain) very leaking central mast. "You stopped!" Harcos sounded both amazed
and offended. "Why did you stop?"

"Because this is a dangerous place and I want you awake, alert and ready
for what may... come" I smirked at the pun. I dove back underneath and
spent some considerable time with his balls in my mouth and my hands
tickling and teasing his taint. I was well-rewarded when I got back to his
cock, the foreskin filled with precum and much of it leaking down his
shaft. For the next three hours, I kept Harcos on the maddening edge of
orgasm.

He stopped me thrice, once a false alarm, once for Harcos to chase a large
cat away with thrown stones, and lastly as a hissing, spitting, growling
commotion came from the other side of camp. Handart, the other sentry for
the middle watch, killed another large cat (or perhaps the same one trying
a different approach) with his pilum, Lavic finishing the emaciated thing
with his Spanish sword.

When the clepsydra dripped its way to the third hour, I redoubled my
efforts and had Harcos in the throes of impending ecstasy when I sharply
pulled his bull-balls down and away, pinching the base of his cock. He
tried and failed to stifle a howl of frustration as his impending ecstasy
vanished. He was in full grump as we woke Sziklak from his slumber and
reported the situation to the sleepy giant. Furge was already heating a
small cup on the dying embers, apparently readying a stimulant for his
master.

We got back to the tent and I very slowly stripped Harcos, then wriggled
excessively as I got out of my own clothes. Harcos growled and lunged for
me, but he had taught me speed. I evaded him repeatedly and snagged the jar
of tallow on one particular pass. When I stopped, he just scowled.

"Harcos, my Aldus, I have decided that I deserve a reward for keeping you
alert all night." His scowl deepened until he saw me pull the tallow-jar
from behind my back. "Lie down, hands behind your head. For the rest of
this night, I am in charge here." Harcos smirked and complied. Getting his
enormous horn hard was not an issue, of course, but getting that monster
cock slicked and me loose without him reaching completion was a chore, if a
delightful one.

I finally started to mount that mast and gave up quickly. Harcos was
seriously disappointed until he saw me grab a leather belt and clamp it in
my jaws. I lined up again and plunged my ass down, taking his head into my
willing but blazing hole. I nearly bit through the strap but kept my jaws
clamped and my scream inside... mostly. I tried in vain to get his head
past the second ring, twisting and pushing down over and over when suddenly
I looked down. Harcos had his head thrown back, chest heaving as he tried
to constrain himself. I reached both hands forward and pulled his nipples,
corkscrewing my ass again and again.

Harcos howled, not silently but softly as he bucked and I felt his seed
wash my hole, some spurting back out. My master bucked again and the
slippery semen did its work. I bit down again as his cock plunged past my
innermost defence, my wail of pain and fulfilment coming as a strangled
whimper around the leather. I sank slowly as he reared up again, planting
his sperm even deeper.

When his hips fell back, his mammoth manhood plundered that sacred nubbin
deep inside me and it was my turned to howl, cut to a high whine by the bit
between my teeth. A spurt of my cum was followed by a fountain that came
within a finger's-width of the tent roof before falling into the fur on
Harcos' chest. Even that night on the Flax of Nemesis, no orgasm had ever
taken me so completely. I was lost to the world, bucking and thrusting
myself harder and harder on my master's still-twitching cock. As I finally
neared collapse, Harcos got his second wind.

He flipped us, pulling my nearly-inert body under him and stopped fucking
me, instead making long and thorough love to my shattered body and taking
my so-satisfied soul to new realms. I came again a short time later but it
took him a while longer to plough his second load of seed deep into my
fallow field. The spasms were intense, long and full and I could feel them
wash my rectum. Harcos collapsed atop me and I realized, bemused, that he
was already asleep.

I managed to shift his bulk to the side and curled into him, sadly allowing
that magnificent monster to slide squishily from my well-used ass. I
decided that, for the sake of the bedding, I needed to void the two loads
that he'd planted. I wriggled out of the tent, used the small latrine we'd
dug and cleaned myself, saddened by the sound of a snarl as a rock thrown
by Sziklak struck some animal night-thief. I returned and snuggled deeply
into my master's fur and was asleep in moments.

When I woke to the faintest light of predawn, I could taste my own ass on
my master's cock as I coaxed his morning piss from his still-slumbering
body. He woke and laughed as he watched me struggle to get a morning gift
of sacred semen from his overly-drained nuts. He pulled me up and kissed
me, long and rough. "I am sorry, my Dasqas, but that well is dry this
morning. You pulled one too many buckets from it with your play last
night." I purred as he kissed and cuddled me further before we both
prepared for the day.

The first set of hills deposited us on a long, sloping plateau, hard going
but nothing compared to the day before. The road now paralleled a waterway
that varied from a small river to a large, fast stream as it worked its way
down and to the east. We found a small, walled group of huts and P'yetury
used a combination of flattery, childish antics and persuasion to get one
family to part with two young roosters for a quite-fair price, and another
family to sell a block of hard goat cheese. Bu was entranced as he watched
his "temporary" helpmeet.

The grubby, sweaty, smelly but noble-born warrior stayed deep in thought
throughout the day. P'yetury spent the entire journey pestering everyone to
teach him more and more of the hodgepodge Latin used in the Legion and he
picked it up with astounding speed. We lunched on the cheese by a wide spot
used as a ford from another road stretching northeast (we'd gradually
turned and were now heading west into the rising mountains). We bathed as
well, the refreshing coolness of the water reinvigorating us all.

P'yetury gambolled about splashing and playing, in fact just showing off
for Bu's amusement. After wiping away a face-full of water the boy had
delivered, an unusually-grumpy Volot gruffed at him, "Stop acting like a
damned fool monkey." P'yetury laughed but settled down... a little.

The youth even tried his hand (or shoulder) at pulling a cart, an
experiment that lasted at least ten minutes. Bu smiled indulgently, "You
will need many weeks of food to get enough meat on you to pull anything."

P'yetury muttered just loud enough for Bu and me to hear, "That's not what
you said last night about *pulling*, warrior man." I snorted a laugh and
both of them looked at me then, blushingly, away.

Late in the afternoon, we came to the ford where the road split in several
directions. We took the well-travelled fork that ran through the wide
valley formed by the Bunushchai River for a while. Within an hour or so, we
were well into the foothills and found a small dell, a cliff to one side
and a good hill wrapping the other two sides. It had no water source, but
was well-sheltered and we set up camp. Furge pointed to a clump of weeds
well over halfway up the side of the cliff.

"I wish I could get up there," he sighed. "That looks for all the world
like stammichi. If it is, it's a great poultice for seeping wounds." I
recognised the name from something Strasta had said and knew that the
corresponding niche in the herb-roll was nearly empty. P'yetury had heard
as well and cocked his head from one side to the other.

The cliff-side was a mess of fractures, utterly unclimbable. It was even
odds that you'd bring part of the mountain down on you when you fell to
your death, that part being a certainty. Before either of us could protest,
P'yetury was scrambling up the crumbled scree at the base. By the time I
shouted, "STOP!" and caught the attention of others, he was easily ten feet
up the cliff itself. Everyone in the camp froze, the blood draining from
Bu's face in a rush, leaving him a sickly grey.

"P'yetury! P'yetury! Get your ass back here!" I yelled.

Without looking around, he yelled, "I can hear you shouting but not the
words! Was that Kucuk? I assume you're telling me to go faster, right?"

I switched to his own language, or close to it. "NO!" I roared. "I'm
telling you to get your scrawny fucking ass--"

"Okay, okay! I'm already moving as fast as I can but I'll try harder!" I
could hear the smirk in his voice. The little bastard had damned well heard
every word. All of us stared in awe as his unshod feet and nimble fingers
found purchase where none should be possible. A rock would fall to a shared
gasp from us below, and one or another of us would shout when he made a
sudden and unexpected jink to the sides as he sought out the best passage.

Before we realised it, P'yetury had yanked half a bush of whatever it was
and tucked it into the belt that gathered his simple shift at his waist,
giving him the look of some little monkey with an enormous, green, bushy
tail. Coming down was much slower since he had to "look" with this toes for
the next foothold. He did fine until he was about four feet up. I think he
tried to hurry and slipped, falling the short distance and then rolling
down the scree.

Bu was on him instantly, pulling him up, brushing him off and checking
everything as the boy giggled and tried to tell the wizened warrior that he
was fine. When it was clear he was unhurt, I tapped Bu on the shoulder and
said, "May I, sir?" I grabbed the bushy thing and tossed it to Furge.

Bu stepped back and I sat on a rock next to P'yetury. Before the beaming,
triumphant boy could react, I had him over my lap with his shift up,
loincloth off and began to wail on his upturned ass as he hollered, first
in shock then in pain. I punctuated every single word with the hardest slap
I could deliver.

"Don't. You. Ever. Do. Something. That. Stupid {three smacks}!
You. Heard. Every. Word. And. You. Ignored. Me!
If. You. Ever. Disobey. ANYONE. Again. You. Won't. Sit. Without. Crying. For. A. WEEK!
Do. You. Understand?" Whack-whack-whack-whack-WHACK!!

He was screaming "Sorry" and "Please" and "Stop" and "Never again" at the
top of his lungs. I pushed him off my lap and his bright-red ass hit the
jagged shards of scree and he yelped and leapt up again. His tearstained
face blazed with outrage and humiliation and worry and a hint of true fear
that maybe, this time, he really had pushed too far.

He yelped again and started to struggle as Bu picked him up, then faded to
shocked silence as Bu shook him, crying. "I was so scared! I will kill you
myself after Kucuk beats you raw if you ever put yourself at risk again!" I
think the tears on the mighty warrior's face were what undid the little
hellion who curled into Bu's chest and wept.

The rest of us quickly turned away to give them at least the semblance of
privacy as we finished setting the camp, gathering the wood and starting
the water that would soon house a couple of briefly-surprised
roosters. Furge dispatched them with the simple expedient of grabbing each
by the throat and twirling once, snapping the little critters' necks in an
instant. Lavic and I decided to simply skin them instead of trying to pluck
the birds. Plucking took forever, but skinning was a messy operation at the
best of times. We went well out of camp to do so and sand-washed ourselves
to remove the gore before returning with the carcasses.

The water was nicely bubbling with some salt and herbs infusing it, along
with something that looked like an onion but smelled more like garlic. My
stomach growled loud enough to get chuckles. The smell was amazing. Say'f
pulled the oniony-things out, indicating they'd done their work, before we
added the chicken.

About then, an extremely red-faced and (I knew, though I couldn't see it)
even redder assed P'yetury came back with a very severe-looking Bu gripping
his shoulder. "I'm--"

"Stop! You look at Kucuk as you apologise."

The boy looked at me with red-rimmed eyes that showed genuine remorse. "I
am really, really sorry, Kucuk. It was r-r-r-r-r-r-wrong and I'll
n-n-n-never do it again. I will, um... I will do what you and the others
tell me and I won't, um, uh...?"

"Talk back, argue or play games." Bu prompted.

"...talk back, argue or play games when you use a serious tone like that."
He looked up to Bu hopefully.

"Ask."

The poor boy couldn't look at us at all no matter what Bu might have
threatened him with. "D-D-D-D-Do you and the rest of the guys... trust me,
still?"

Furge spoke first. "Trust is earned, but I'm willing to trust you as long
as you don't pull any more stupid stunts like that."

Say'f and Pyrkagia nodded since they never spoke until it was
essential. Billen and Lavic nodded, looking more sympathetic than I thought
was warranted. Grubo grunted his assent, clearly not pleased. Volot looked
to me for the longest time and then said, "Everyone deserves a second
chance."

I blushed, knowing just what he was referring to and finally spoke. "You
scared the hell out of me, P'yetury. If you swear a true oath," I glared at
him and his eyes widened; I was demanding an oath dedicated to the One True
God, "I will trust you. But I will hear the oath from your lips tonight
before bed. Think hard on this, P'yetury. Do not take it lightly." Bu
pushed him a little and he ran up and threw his arms around me.

"Thank you Kucuk. Thank you! Thank all of you!" He proceeded to hug
everyone in turn, Grubo not at all pleased which amused everyone but him.

My master's voice rumbled to life. "Friend-Bu, do you then intend to keep
this... creature with us?" P'yetury spun to Harcos then to Bu, his face a
mask of hope and gut-churning terror at what the answer might be.

"I do." Bu's voice was serious but clearly pleased. The boy's chin started
to wobble and his eyes started to leak.

"I think that P'yetury is damned hard to say, and that this young creature
needs a better name."

"I second Harcos," Sziklak intoned.

"This from a man who can barely pronounce his *own* name and the rest of
have to call 'you'?" Pameten jested, getting a scowl. "But I agree with
Servus Harcos and 'sizzle-lackey' here. A name is fair."

Bu smiled slowly as P'yetury started the gnaw on his lower lip, shifting
worried from one foot to the other. "That is easily done." He stooped a
little so he could put both hands on the boy's shoulders. He stared into
P'yetury's eyes and said. "Will you be my Kapik?"

The newly-minted Kapik cried and laughed at once as he flung himself into
Bu's chest. "Yes! Yes, warrior-Bu, yes!" He finally calmed enough to step
back and search Bu's laughing eyes. "But does Kapik have more than a
pleasing sound? Has it a meaning?"

"Wellllllll," Bu drawled out, "since Pameten has his Bull Ox and Harcos has
his Puppy, I decided it was only right to name you for what you seem most
like. Kapik means 'monkey' in my tongue. So, will you be my little monkey?"
In more than mere confirmation, the monkey-boy climbed Bu like he'd done
the cliff to plant a huge kiss on the warrior's surprised face. The entire
camp roared with laughter.

<eof>

Big thanks to Beta Readers ijk, Jack and Zach, who made this story
readable.

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
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