Date: Thu, 5 Oct 2023 21:22:48 +0100 From: Devon Guy Subject: The Woods Boy - gay male - sf or fantasy - adult youth Before beginning the story, go visit donate.nifty.org and see if you can find a few bucks to help support the site. The Woods Boy It was a misty fall afternoon, somewhere in late October I guess. I'd been out in Knock Woods with Bess, my old wolfhound, hoping to add another doe to my larder before the winter really bit. It had been fruitless so far, but then my hopes hadn't been high to begin with. Fact is game of any kind had been scarce all over of late, and while I had provisioned myself well enough so far, I always liked to have a little to spare for those few neighbors I had that were going without, but each trip this season had been bringing poorer and poorer returns. It was almost uncanny, how still the wood was that day, the tall straight pines disappearing into the shrouds of mist and not a breeze or a bird to animate them. It was, then, a blow to my ears when all of a sudden Bess erupted into barrage of deep, angry barks. Evidently she smelt something ahead, hidden in the white. "What is it, girl?" I said, before crouching beside her and following her gaze, but I couldn't make anything out. The chill in the air seemed to deepen, whatever had spooked her couldn't be good. She was a wise old thing, not quick to temper or easily provoked. My presence next to her calmed her some, and the barking had subsided to a deep, guttural growl. Mind racing like my heart now was, I tried to assess the possibilities, and the dangers. There were bears further north that sometimes ventured here, and a few cats not much smaller than bears, but they had all seemed to disappear when the game had. Could be one, maybe sick or old, got stranded here, in which case the beast would be hungry, and desperate. Bess's front paws danced in place on the forest floor, and while she would never go ahead without my say so I knew she was itching to get at whatever she had smelt or heard. Deciding to trust her instincts, as I had so many times before, I got back to my feet. "Go on, girl. Go find it." It was all she needed, and she leapt into a sprint, charging in the direction she'd been pointing at. Quickly unsheathing my hunting knife I ran after her. Bess led me over a ridge and down into the shallow valley of one of the brooks that lace the woods. She was making fast towards the bank and I as I followed I began to make out her goal. There on the bank, just a few feet from the water, crouched a large, dark shape, like some kind of great beast, but no bear or cat or anything else I'd seen before. Beneath it lay another, smaller figure, pale and unmoving. At mine and Bess' approach the creature looked up, two red, shining eyes seeming to glow from within like flames. I swear the heart almost jumped right out of me as that thing set me in its sights, and a thousand little prayers flew through my mind. It was the look of death, and as the beast began moving towards me I thought it was my end for certain. It stopped and regarded me with such intensity it felt like a furnace, like a terrible force of will made manifest, seeming to strip me to the bone. All I could do was stand there, and that was hard enough, as every fibre of me wanted to fall to the ground, to curl up and die rather than continue under that stare. Don't ask me what happened next though, because the next thing I knew the scrutiny had gone and the creature had backed off and was making its way back towards the stream, almost effortlessly crossing it in one bound before disappearing into the woods beyond. Bess was going crazy again, but I barely heard her over my thumping heart. Slowly I came back to myself, though, and I remembered the second figure. With a last scan of where the creature had vanished I cautiously approached the pale body. It was human, that much I think I had already known. I stepped up, expecting to see a mess of blood there on the rocky bank, but there was none. Whoever it is would be dead, I thought, as I crouched down to it. I slowly placed my shaking hand on the shoulder. If was cold, but not the cold of death, that much I could feel. It was like a gentle tug on some sense I have no name for, a plaintive plea. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. I pulled them onto their back and saw it was a boy, naked and wet, his dark hair matted about his face. No, not a boy. There on his pale chest he wore the mark of Becoming that signaled he had been welcomed by the men of his tribe into their fraternity, but the deep, sharp blue of the swirling lines of his tribe's design, along with a lingering pinkness to the skin around it showed that it was new, just a week or two worn I'd guess. I didn't recognise it, so he was not local to these parts. I leant over him and placed my ear to his cold lips, straining for a sound of breath. It was lucky the day was so still or I wouldn't have heard it, faint as it was, but I had been right. He lived. Bess, too, had come to investigate, her previous aggressive demeanour now replaced with the fussing maternal instinct that was much more her nature. "I guess we found a wounded stray, Bessy. What do you think we should do with it?" She barked once, and it was the playful bark she made when when I teased her with a bone. "I guess you're right. Not that I expect you'll help much." The day was still light above the mist. I put it at maybe a few hours before it would be dark. Examining him more closely I saw some faint color had come back into his cheeks already, and looking close I saw his narrow chest was rising and falling steadily. Sighing, I carefully lifted him from from the rocks, holding him in front of me and, trying not to jolt or disturb him, got to my feet. I was surprised at how light he was, no more than a bundle of firewood he felt as I carried him away. I had taken him home, back to my cabin, arriving as the last of the day's meagre sun had given up. I had wrapped him in my coat and that seemed to help some, because by the time I had lit a fire and lay him on a fur in front of it he seemed to simply be asleep, and no longer in that deathliness that had held him at first. I'd wet a rag and put it to his lips, wringing water into his mouth, and saw that he swallowed. That relieved me some, so I left him be and set to making some food, for I for one was famished. I took two of the rabbits I'd manage to catch the day before and, with some roots and herbs, put together a stew. It simmered above the fire and I sat down at last, the weariness of the day now hitting me. The cabin window was dark by then. I looked down at the shape now lying at my hearth and began going over in my head just how he had come to be there. I shuddered at the memory of the beast that had so unmanned me. Despite the mist I knew that thing was not of those woods. No damn bear can jump like that, and no cat I ever saw was that big, or that black. And those eyes, those firey eyes that had pierced me like nothing ever, those weren't the eyes of any normal animal. Just recalling them I felt the dread that had filled me then, and I knew it would be a good while before I returned to Knock Wood. The creature was likely the reason every other animal with sense had left the place alone, and I was not about to contradict that wisdom. My thoughts turned again to the boy as he lay there in the soft, orange glow, a look of quiet contentment on his face, his brow relaxed and his lips barely parted, and I found myself gazing at him and wondering why I hadn't just left him there on the bank. I know, I sound like a monster myself, but life can make monsters of us. Truth was I had supplies for myself, and little chance of getting more, and when I lifted him from the ground I had made a commitment to keeping him as long as was needed, be it one night or the whole winter. Don't leave me. That voice came back to me then. I looked to see he hadn't woken, but he lay there still asleep. That was why, I thought. When I had touched him and had felt that pull and heard that voice, so faint and yet so clear, I had known then what my duty was. There were still questions to have answers to, and perhaps the boy can provide some, but on that at least I was settled. The smell of hot rabbit stew was now filling the cabin, and my belly began growling like Bess. She, by the way, had been happily gnawing on a bone, seemingly content to have had her usual spot usurped. She, too, was keeping one watchful eye on the stranger as she worked away. I stood and stepped to the hearth, lifting a ladle to the stew, then to my lips. It would do, more than do after the day. Maybe the smell of the stew had roused him too because, as I turned to grab a bowl and some bread I saw the boy stir. He looked like a little babe waking from a nap as he slowly and lazily stretched his arms, rolling and groaning a little like it was his own bed he was waking in and it was a Sunday morning. The sight held my attention as I stood half turned, and I admit the sight warmed me in more than one way. It had been a while since I had seen a naked human form move so, too long, and damn if he didn't look beautiful to my eyes right then. I told myself I was just happy to see the kid alive, but my growing want made a liar of me as the blanket slipped, showing his taught, lightly muscled chest, the tattoo black now in the firelight, his pits brushed with hair as dark as that on his head, standing out against skin that was now no longer white, but still pale, like fresh cream. By the time my eyes had returned to his face his were half open and squinting up at me. No doubt I looked like some huge, dark shape looming above him, so I stepped back and squatted down to his level, and his head and eyes followed me, wary, and no doubt still half full of sleep. "You're awake." I said. He looked at me for a moment, then peered around the small room, though he didn't look like he was taking it in. I pushed on. "I found you by a brook in the Knock Wood. You were..." I didn't want to mention all that had happened just yet. There will be time for that. "You were hurt, so I brought you back here." Sense seemed to be returning to him now, somewhat at least, because when his eyes returned to mine they were open and more focused. After a moment he opened his mouth to speak and it was it was as if he was struggling to remember how. "I.....was...." His voice was cracked, and I remembered he had only drank what little I'd been able to squeeze into him as he slept. I turned slowly so as not to spook him and reached for the jug and a cup. Filling it I held the cup towards him. "Here, drink." I urged him. After a beat of confusion he seemed to remember his thirst too and near grabbed the cup, gulping half the contents and spilling the rest, causing him to cough. "Hey, slow down boy." I said. "There's plenty." I took the cup from him and refilled it and, before I let him take it told him, "slower this time." The kid nodded and took a few modest mouthfuls before setting the cup down beside him. He was on his side now, propped on one arm, and I couldn't help but let my eyes follow the curves of his body again, the way the light shone on the now wet skin of his chest, a rivulet running down the parting in the muscles of his stomach. His voice then took my attention back. "I was hurt." His voice was clearer now. It was the voice I had hear before, in my head. The same. "Yes. You were...attacked by something out there. Me and Bess scared the thing away." The kid regarded her and I saw her tail take half a dozen lazy thumps of approval on the floor. "Luckily you don't seem too badly hurt, no wounds or anything I can see." I blushed inside at this. I had taken the time to examine him for injuries once I had gotten back, checking for fractures and the like, something that doesn't necessarily bleed. I'm not a healer but you have to know enough to get by out here. It's mostly so I can patch myself or one of the few folks that live close enough to matter. As I'd layed him up on the bench, stripped the coat from him and began cautiously probing his flesh I was struck by the unequal intimacy of the moment. This kid had never even layed eyes on me, and here I was seeing him more closely and more nakedly that probably anyone since his mother. I kept my mind on the task as best as possible as my hands moved over his bare, milky skin, now warm and vital to the touch. There had been that pull again, like I'd felt the first time I touched him, but I was different now. Where before there had been a desperation to it, now it felt more like a gentle suck, like an infant on his thumb. No voice, just the sound of his breathing, steady and slow. "Where am I?" He looked about the room again. "This is my house. My name is Jack." I gestured to myself. "What's your name?" The kid's face screwed up in confusion and he seemed to be struggling for an answer. He looked around himself for it and then his eyes fell on the tattoo on his chest. His fingers found it too and they traced and the lines of the abstract design as if the answer was in them somewhere. He couldn't seem to puzzle it out though, and with a hint of frustration in his young voice he said: "I...I don't know..." I sat for a moment, regarding him. "Don't worry. It'll come. Takes time to come back to yourself after a shock like you must have had." I tried to sound reassuring, but even I knew it wasn't a good sign. I decided to drop it for now. "Are you hungry? I have made some stew." I said, and pointed to the kettle simmering merrily on the hearth. Those dark eyes widened at this, and I could swear I almost saw the drool start dripping from his lips the second I said it. It was a stupid question really. "I'll take that as a yes." I stood again and set about what I'd started earlier. He'd sit up by the time I put his bowl and bread in front of him, and I didn't bother him with talk as he ate, nor him me. Another bowl each later and we sat, me in the chair, him on hearth. The fire crackled and spat. After a while I asked him. "Do you know what happened? What do you remember?" "Not much." He said. A glaze came to his eyes as he sought in his mind. "I remember I was running. I was scared and I was running. Away from something. Towards something. Then darkness. It was dark and I was cold and so..." He sobbed, taken by the memory. His face fell and he shook, pulling his knees up and putting his arms around them. Carried by instinct I was on the floor kneeling next to him and brought my arm around his shoulders. "Shhh, it's OK, kid. You're safe now. You're safe here." He didn't resist as I pulled him to my chest and gently held him as the sobs subsided. "I was so scared." He said, once he was able. "But then I heard a voice." He looked up into my face as he said it. "It said 'You're safe now'." The silence pulled taught between us. "Over and over, it said it, and it seemed to pull me out of...of wherever I was." My heart thumped heavy at what he had said. Those dark eyes glistened up at me. I was the one who couldn't speak now, so he did. "It was you, wasn't it?" I nodded. "I think it was. I felt it too. I heard you too." Neither of us knowing what to say we embraced like that for a while, as the fire lowered. He felt so good in my arms, like he'd been made for them, and the way he had lain his head on my chest, nustling in a little, sent jolts to my groin. It was getting harder and harder to ignore how much I wanted him. Every time my skin brushed his I'd feel that pull from him, whatever it was that had run between us before. Now there seemed to be urgency to it again, but it came not from fear but a desire that seemed to match my own. I looked and saw he was breathing at my shirt covered chest, his lips touching the fabric, seeming to consume my smell. He seemed lost in a world of his own, his eyes closed, and he reminded me of a pup looking for a teat. A thought entered my head and, before I could stop myself, I pulled my own shirt off over my head so his face could lay on my naked chest. Wordlessly he brushed his nose and pretty lips on my furred chest, sniffing and licking and sucking and nipping, send more jolts through me. He seemed to be acting on some instinct or need, so I let him. For a while at least. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good, and I wanted to pull his body fully to mine and take him then, but that was not my way. That was not why I had pulled him from the bank. I just let him nuzzle away until sleep began to take him again. Asleep, I lifted him, and carried him to my cot. He'd be more comfortable there, and he needed rest. He looked so peaceful as I pulled the woollen blankets up over him and I brushed the soft, dark hair from his face. "Sleep well." I murmured, almost to myself, before taking my own place in my chair. I pulled over the bottle of spirits I keep for tending a cut and, giving it a sniff, decided it was good enough and drank a slug. It burned through me, but managed to shake me out of the strange mood the kid had put me in. I wondered at what the morning would bring as the fire burned low, the room became dark, and I too drifted off. ***** Bess was first up the next day, as I awoke to a cold nose at my hand, nudging it, and a warm tongue at my fingers. Groggily I peered through half open eyes at her. She wagged her tail. "Hmm." I growled. "Why are you so lively this morning?"" Another few wags. It's a wonder how motivating a friendly face can be in the morning, and so with a few creaking stretches I shook the cold of the night from my bones and levered myself upwards. It only took me a second to remember the kid and, turning to the cot I saw him still asleep, no more than a head peeking above curled around blankets. I went over and, light as a feather, I brushed the tips of my fingers on his sleeping brow. I felt a tingle, but no fever. As light as I was he stirred, maybe feeling what I had felt, and I pulled my hand away as his eyes opened to me. "Morning." I said, and smiled. He smiled back and, sleepily, replied in kind. I grabbed the back of my chair and pulled it to the bed so I could sit, and he turned on the cot to face me, propped on one arm as he had the night before. In the silver light of the morning he looked even more beautiful, his flawless skin seeming to shimmer. "How are you feeling?" I asked. He took a moment to ponder a response. "I feel good. I mean I feel well. Thank you." He said with a small smile that tightened my belly. "And you? Did you sleep?" I paused, a little surprised at the question. It seemed odd that he would ask after me, when he was the one who had suffered. "Yes." I said at last. "I slept some." His smile grew at that. Then his brow furrowed again, looking about the room. "Where?" He asked, worry at the edge of his voice. I patted the chair I sat in. "Here." I gave him a sideways smile, but his frown deepened. He wears his thoughts so plainly, I thought. After a while he resolved into a look of determination. "No. I can't take your bed. You have done so much. I think I owe you my life." His voice sounded now less like the boy he had been, and I had to remind myself that he is indeed a man now, and can have his own mind. Still, some deeper part of me knew that I had a responsibility to him now. Not just the fact I saved him, but there was some bond between us that, while I couldn't begin to explain it, no more could I ignore it. So, as he began to hastily lift himself from the bed I found myself reaching my hand to his arm. I touched the bare flesh and it was like a flash of lightning. I knew we both felt it because he turned to me with gasp and a look of shock in his eyes. The bond held us both for a moment, and it was like I could see his mind. I saw the fear he had spoken of the night before, the pain and the fear, and then the hope at hearing a voice, my voice, beckon in that darkness. It was only an instant but the shock near threw me from my chair. He pulled away at the same moment and sank back onto the bed, breathing as heavy as I was. We both lay panting a few moments more until finally he broke the silence. "What was that?" He asked. "I don't know. But it's not the first time it's happened." He turned to me, eyes wide. "Though not as strong as that. You were pretty out of it yesterday, so you maybe don't remember but..." I fumbled for words I didn't have. "When I found you and first touched you, I heard you call for me, and I think you heard me calling too." He eyes sparkled in comprehension but he didn't interrupt. "And since then, whenever I've touched you there's been, I don't know, a bond of some sort. Sometimes it was just a gentle pull." I thought of how I'd lain my fingers on him ad he slept. "But just then, I don't know why, it was like I could see inside of you." I let that hang in the air for a moment. "So, you saw..." His eyes clouded as he spoke and he looked away from me. He didn't need to finish. "Yes." I wanted to lean over and pull him to me, as we had been last night, to remind him of that unspoken promise I had made. Instead I slowly extended the tip of a finger to the tip of one of his, and willed my reassurance into him. I had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed the right thing. As those fingertips kissed I saw his posture soften almost right away. The tension of the moment fled, and the small smile returned. "I meant it, you know." Refering to the promise I was reaffirming through our touch. He turned to me again, his expression soft and yielded. "I know." Then it was him that moved, and with a boldness I hadn't seen in him he crossed the distance between us, his face an inch from mine. He was so close I could smell the warmth of bed on him. Then he kissed me. When his lips brushed mine that first time it was like a spring morning, a burst of life that made my heart crazy and giddy like a lamb and before I knew it my hands were at his shoulders and I was kissing him back. His lips were soft, and danced around mine, my tongue chasing them here and there before finally pinning them down. Holding him, our lips together, I climbed onto the bed. We knelt on it face to face, hands on each other, every touch another light in my mind. His blanket had dropped away and he knelt there naked, his body against mine so that I could feel his hardness against my thigh. He was pressing into me like he wanted to climb inside of me, and the need I felt from him was a clear, keening cry. I sucked it into myself, and held him like I would never break the grip. Grabbing his legs I lifted. With his arms around my neck I held him up and felt his legs curl around my waist. We tumbled into the bed, and I pressed onto his naked form. By now any hesitancy I'd had was gone. I meant to have this boy, and he meant to have me. Hell, he already did. In a fever I pulled at my clothes, shucking them off like I hated them. I had to break away for a moment, and he watched me as my body appeared before him, all muscle and hair and so different to his. When he saw my manhood his eyes went wide. He looked at it as it throbbed for him, as it leaked. His own was standing high and straight as a birch, with that hardness that only men his age have so that it almost vibrated. I wanted to feel him again, to feel him against me fully so I pressed him back down, our lips meeting as I lay myself over him, almost covering him. I kept my weight on my arms but allowed some to press on against his chest and stomach, allowing him to feel the weight of reassurance he needed. I closed my eyes and we became enmeshed, more fully than before, more than I thought I could or would with anyone. I closed my eyes and let myself just feel him, his heat and his need as he squirmed under me, that hard young cock leaking sap in my belly fur. I saw his mind, and the fear was just a speck in the distance. I would keep it that way. I would keep him this way. I explored his body with my mouth, first his neck and shoulders and I loved hearing him moan and feeling him shudder with every kiss and bite I took of him. His skin was salty and invited my tongue to his chest and then to his pert, pink nipples, and I bit there too. His mind was a flash of light and he shook and gasped. I bit a little harder, savouring his pleasant distress a moment before releasing him. The sense of newness on him told me I was his first, and I relished it. Every touch of my lips to him was another sip. He was near shivering when I arrived at his hardness, a thick dew at its head. I knew this would shake him, and I took a moment before placing my tongue and then my lips to him again and then allowing just the tip of him in, a taste of something new for us both. His groan filled the room and his hands grabbed at my shoulders as if to steady himself. I knew he was close, I could feel it through him, a bowstring that I had pulled tight and could release at any moment. Instead I relaxed it slowly. I wanted to savour him. Climbing up again we kissed and I shared with him how he tasted, what I had known of him, and our tongues entwined around it. I was now painfully aware of my own dick lying heavy between us, or perhaps I felt his awareness of it. It was difficult to know the difference between the two because at that moment I felt him grind himself against it and the need and awareness grew hotter. Holding him I flipped us both over so that I was on my back and, with light pressure on his shoulders, I encouraged him to explore me as I had him. His expression was half wonder and half unmistakable lust as he looked over my body, my wide chest heaving over my belly, and down to my cock that lay like a sleeping bull across the top of my thigh. He explored it with his hand and I shook and growled. He looked up, and my eyes were reassuring, so he continued, gripping me more firmly and stroking me slowly. I melted into his touch and gently moved my hips to meet his hand. I enjoyed the pace. Though I was hot as all hell I was in no hurry. All while he stroked me his face was getting closer until, with the lightest of touches he kissed the head. He looked up at me and I felt his question. "Go on." I said and nodded, though I knew I needn't have. Still, with this approval he turned back to my cock and, more confidently, began to kiss and lick, all the while keeping at that slow stroking. When he took the whole head in, at last filling his mouth with it I felt a sense of completion, of something being put in place. Again I don't know if it came from me or from him or from both of us, but it was like some puzzle had been solved. As he sucked me I could feel my pleasure flowing into him, enwrapping his mind, and he wallowed in it. In return his own desire melted around me, like I was plunging into a warm bath after such a long, cold night. He had lit a fire and I only now knew how cold it had been. My hands found his head, lacing into his hair, feeling him begin to move up and down and urging him on. He fed of me as I gripped him, my hips moving on their own as I went deeper. He wanted all of me, I could feel it with each second I was in him, and he opened himself, drawing from my strength like a totem. I gave him all I could, pushing at his edges, filling him. It was too much. He was too much. When my orgasm came it lifted my mind high above, and his with me, and for a moment it was like we had left our bodies behind and we soared. I feel like I must have blacked out because next I was back on my bed, and he was lying along my leg, still nursing on my cock as his own relief began running down my thigh. I think he would have nursed like that all day if I had let him, but I put my fingers to his chin and guided his face up. "Thank you." I told him, and only he could know just what I meant. He smiled but said nothing, he just placed a kiss on my hip and crept up to lay on my chest, and despite the light of day we slept. I doubted there would be anything to hunt that day anyway. ***** It was afternoon when I woke from my doze. The boy was still asleep on my chest, his slow breaths tickling at my hairs. I decided that one thing we would absolutely have to do that day was find him a name, whether his own or one that would fit for the while. I couldn't keep thinking of him as 'the kid' or 'the boy'. He wasn't one, regardless of what my protective instinct was telling me, and a man needs a name. I thought to how he had looked at his tattoo. I'd heard that it's the custom in some places to weave meaning into the mark, words and names and spells and such. It wasn't something I knew much about, but perhaps someone did. The only possibility I could think of was Asprey, the old hermit that often spent the warmer months at the lakeside about two days away. I'd visit him from time to time whenever I happened to be in the area, and from our long fireside conversations over the bottles I'd bring him I knew that he was a deep pool and had been to the four compass points in his time. I reasoned that if he couldn't make sense of the tattoo nobody I knew could. I still had hope, though, that the boy's memory would begin to return on its own, and so I put those thoughts aside for the time being. I stroked his hair and felt him slowly wake, then put my nose into his crown and breathed him in. In response he hugged at me tighter. My dick stirred, but this time I mastered myself and let it be. "Hey." I said into his hair. "I've come to a decision." A silence. "A decision?" "Yes." I replied. "You need a name. Do you still not remember?" Another silence. "No. I remember moments here and there, just feelings really, or the memory of feeling something." I could tell he was struggling to articulate himself, but in a way I didn't need the words, his thoughts had their echoes in me. I felt his mind brush on the memory of fear and he flinched away from it, and I knew that whatever was behind it was too much for him to fave yet. I thought that perhaps when he was strong enough to face it, that's when he would remember who he was. Until then it would be a wall between him and his past. If he needed to take strength from me, I thought, then I gave it. "It's OK." I told him, kissing the top of his head. "Take your time. How about we choose something for now. Do you have any ideas?" He pondered for a moment. "I don't know." He said. "Where did you find me?" "Next to a brook in Knock Wood, but Knock is no name., you would sound like a simpleton." The thought made me smile. "No." He interrupted my chuckling. "But Brook. How does that sound?" "Well, it's your name, but I'd say it sounds good." And it did. "Brook." He said, feeling the word. "Brook" "Brook." I replied and he grinned up at me. He was so far removed from the person I had found just a day before, his eyes while still dark now shone, and shone more as I pulled him to me and deeply kissed him. It was a test on me but I pulled away before I could roll him over and pick up where we had left off earlier. I really did have things to do before night, or we'd have no water or wood. Brook looked disappointed as I climbed out of the bed and began finding my clothes. The frigid air certainly made me regret my choice too, but I was resolved. First off I went to the big trunk I keep by the bed, with all my clothes and other oddments. I doubted I would find anything that would fit, and as much as I would like to keep him naked, Brook needed something to wear. After rooting around I settled on the smallest shirt and old pair of pants I'd hung on to for sentimental reasons, but which might be made to fit. "Come on." I said to him, throwing the garments to him. "Get up and try these. They'll do until I can get to the Outpost and find something better." He picked up the shirt, looking dubious, but complied and hopped out of bed with a spring that gratified me to see. I told him so. "It's good to see your fit and healthy." I said. "Means you can help me." The clothes, of course, swamped him, but with some rolled up sleeves and a makeshift belt they were at least wearable. I'd dug ot some old boots, too, that with padding from thick, woollen socks fit him well enough, though the made his steps a little slow and clumsy. He almost stumbled onto his face a couple of times as he helped me bring water from the stream that ran nearby, so I made sure to walk close to steady him. It didn't take too long, and it was good to be outside after such a strange night in the cabin. As we worked we talked. Mostly about nothing in particular. He asked about me and I told him. I had been at the cabin for about ten years by then, hunting and trading. Sometimes I would trade what I caught with folks who gather at the outpost or at the lakeside, or I would act as guide to the merchants that seek the northern tribes for the lamp oil they produce. That gave me the money to spend on what I couldn't hunt for or trade for. I didn't need to tell him they I had been alone for that time. I believe he had seen it in me. As I had glimpsed his soul, so had he seen mine. "When we touched." He said. "I saw something too. This morning, when you grabbed my arm and you saw..." A shadow crossed his face. "I saw myself, on the bank, and above me was..." I knew what he had seen in that touch. "Yes." I said, and put down my bucket, placing my hand on his shoulder. "That was what I saw when I found you. That...thing...I don't know what it was, but it had you. I thought you were dead, and that I was next." We both shook as we shared the memory. "What did you do? You told me you had scared it away. But how?" "I wish I knew. All I do know is that as soon as Bess and me came skidding down it glared at me with those horrible eyes it had and ran." We stood in silence a while before Brook spoke. "Do you think it's gone? Are we, you know..." I brought my other hand up and held him by both shoulder, turning him so I could look him straight in the eye. "I. Promise." I held his eyes, letting seconds pass, letting them take the fear with them. He had a point, though. I wouldn't admit it just then, but was unsure. Perhaps a trip to the lakeside to see old Asprey would be in order after all. It was direct away from Knock and whatever might still lurk there, and the hermit might have answers to more than the tattoo. "I've been thinking." I said. "There are questions that it could be wise for us to find answers to. Like finding out what that thing was, maybe finding out more about you too." I thought to ask Asprey about this connection Brook and I had felt, too. I wanted to know what it could mean for us, but I kept that to myself for the time being. "I know someone who might have knowledge of such things, who might be able to tell us what this says." I pulled open the tip of his shirt to expose the tattoo. He looked at it as if he had forgotten it was there. "Leave?" He said, fearful. "Together." I affirmed. "Yes." He said, finally. "I would like to know. These shapes seem....important somehow. It's like I know them and don't. It's so strange." He contemplated the tattoo again. "When?" "As soon as we can." I said. "We'll need to visit the Outpost and get you something better to wear, but we can do that on the way to the lake." I made a mental inventory of what I had and what I would need to buy. Luckily I had taken an extra trip north this year and had more coin than I needed. "We could be away in the morning." "So soon?" Brook looked nervous. I felt it too. The thought of taking him from the warmth and relative security of the cabin so soon after bringing him there filled me with unease. He had become to mean so much to me in such a short time I already qualmed at the thought of risking him. Still, I felt this had to be done. If we had to face that terror from the wood again I would like to be as prepared as possible. I set my face firm. "Yes. I reckon the paths will be clear for another month or so before the first snows come. I'd like to be on the way back before that happens." I gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his shoulders, feeling the tense fear that bunched them melt. He smiled back. "OK. Let's do it. Let's go. Tomorrow." He nodded, his face now determined, that boldness returning, the same look he had had that morning when he had kissed me. It was me that moved this time, though, and I planted my lips on his forehead. "It's settled, then. Come on, if that's your mind, we have even more work to do." With that I picked my bucket up and hurried him the rest of the way to the cabin. We spent the rest of the afternoon in preparation. It was a joy to see him then, health returned and with goal to work towards. He was as keen an assistant as I could hope for and together we gathered what we would need. By nightfall there were two packs set by the hearth, one somewhat larger than the other, leaning together almost in mirror of Brook and I as we sat side by side on the bench, happily tired. Brook had rested his head against my shoulder, and I warmed at how comfortable and safe he felt. We ate well that night, making use of some oddments of food that wouldn't keep, and I even brought out a bottle of wine from the south that I had traded for earlier that year, intending to keep it for a special occasion, not that I had that many of those. It was blood red and sweet as blackberries and just a cup or two and Brook was half dozing, a smile on his lips and a giggle never far from them either, and once again I regretted that we would be leaving this cozy moment too soon. "We should get some rest." I told him, finally. He looked up, an unspoken question in his expression. In answer I stood and turned to him and, leaning down, I put one arm under his knees and one around his shoulders and lifted him up. He giggled again and, feeling the giddiness of the wine too, I span him around once before carrying him to the bed. Laying him down he looked up at me, playful and damn seductive. He didn't need to ask me to join him. I climbed onto the bed next to him, turning him so that I could hold him from behind, feeling his body against mine. He seemed more solid now than when I had found him, more real, and as my nose and lips met his shoulder he smelt of sweat and wood and something sweet I couldn't place. I kissed him there and he rolled his shoulders against me. Another kiss and another and his backside ground into me too, the mounds of firm muscle near hugging at my dick. It was clear that he wasn't quite ready to rest yet, and neither was I. "I'm so glad I found you." I told him between kisses, my hand running across his chest and belly as he moved so deliciously against me. "Me too, Jack. I owe you...." I stopped him by taking his chin and, turning his face, I kissed his lips. "Nothing." I whispered and kissed him again. "This is what a man does." I continued to put my lips on him, letting my beard tickle at his skin. He shivered at the touch. All the while I loosened his clothing, pulling the oversized shirt off and helping him shuck the pants to the bottom of the bed. Just as before it was like every touch of his skin on mine was an insight into his soul, and I felt that same need he had, to feel complete, and my own soul echoed it. My dick was oak by then, and the hardness of it excited him even more as he arched his back, pressing the warm roundness of his ass against me. I ground against it, the fabric of my pants hiding nothing. I pulled them open and kicked them from my legs, wanting, no, needing to feel him on me fully. My mouth never left his skin, planting kiss after kiss across his sensitive neck and shoulders, loving how it made him twist and squirm in pleasure, his ass cheeks hugging at my naked cock. It drooled against him, as hungry as my mouth, and I took his hips to guide his movements. Under my touch he ground against me in slow circles, working me deeper into the cleft until I felt the first brush of the head against his asshole. I felt him tremble at the touch and could tell how much he wanted it, how much we both did. I was mindful of his inexperience, though, so I broke away and turned him onto his belly. He gave me a look of disappointment, but I smiled. "Are you sure?" I asked him. "It will hurt. At first anyway" In response his hand found my dick and held it. He looked into my eyes. "I'm sure." He nodded. "I know you won't hurt me. Not really." I put my hand on his ass, letting the fingers push gently into the crease. He cooed and ground into the bed, and my lips began their work again, beginning at the back of his neck, then following the line of his spine between the shoulder blades. I could almost feel his body heat up as I crossed his back and arrived at the top of his ass. I took a moment to breath him in, a sweet muskiness to him that reached into me and grabbed my balls from behind. Fuck, I thought, I had never wanted anything so much in my life. I dove in as if starving, and the sensation of my beard and hot tongue attacking his perfect ass made him convulse with pent up desire and I had to hold him still, my hands now gripping his hips as I devoured him. My tongue was at his hole now, and I found the source of that sweetness. He tasted like a warm loaf to a starving man. How had I not noticed before how hungry I had become? My tongue pushed in and he moaned my name and never did it sound better. "Jack, please. Jack please don't stop. Oh god." He gasped, intermittently burying his face in my pillow or arching up to gasp and cry. Part of me adored playing with him like that, knowing that I had him at my mercy, that I could make him twist this way and that with just a stroke of my tongue, and his ass tasted so good I could have stayed there all night, but I knew we both needed more. After feasting on him some more I decided he was as ready as he'll be. I knew he felt more than ready, he was pleading for it, with his eyes, his body, his mind, and finally his voice. "Please, Jack." I knelt at his rear, saw the curve of his back arched in the firelight, his face turned to mine, his dark eyes afire and his lips half open, and all reason was lost to me and I became a beast. I leapt on him with a growl, my chest pushing him flat and my dick finding home along his ass. With my knees I pushed his legs apart while my hands found his wrists and I held him down. He groaned at my man handling of him, putting him exactly where I wanted him. I knew he wanted it as bad as I did and that made the moment all the sweeter. I ground my fat dick up and down his sweet, smooth ass, driving him wild as I muttered in his ear. "Is this what you want, Brook? You want your man to fuck you?" All he could do was groan under me, his voice vibrating through us both. I swear I never heard a better sound, but I wasn't done with teasing him. "Say it for me, boy. Tell me what you need." I was so wild I'm not sure I would have cared what the answer was, but I knew. "Please Jack. Please fuck me." That was all I could take. I moved the head of my dick to his wet, puckered hole and, gently at first, started pushing at it. I worked him with the head, reading his body like it was my own, knowing when to push, when to hold still, when to whisper an encouragement into his ear. "You feel so good already, Brook. I can feel you pulling me in." I bit his neck and he moaned. I used the distraction to push in past the ridge. He gasped and held it breathless for a second, and I knew the sting he was feeling as he felt my girth. "You're doing so good, Brook." I told him, and kissed where I had bit. After a few moments his breath came back. "Damn it's big." He said between shaking breaths. "Take your time. Get used to it." I held myself mostly still for a while and let him explore the new feelings he was having. There was a thrill and a comfort in it for him, being under me like that, a fearful trust in allowing himself to be so vulnerable for me. It was intoxicating and when he began to move his hips, humping himself back onto me, accepting me, and I fell into him. My passion coursed through me and into him as I thrust, holding him down with my weight and making that old bed move. His ass was like a furnace, gripping me hot and tight in his need. With each push he seemed to pull me further in, until I was lost in him, only aware as far as his body touched mine. I pulled him into a kiss, invading his mouth. He tasted of sweet, red wine, of blackberries in July and I took my fill of him and he of me. We rocked together, now so thoroughly connected that we thought and felt as one, each taking part in their own and the other's pleasure. His gasps when I pushed at that sweet spot inside of him sent waves through me too and lap on lap they grew stronger until it felt like the whole cabin was rocking with it. I don't know when but at some point I'd flipped him around and was face to face with him as I stoked the fire I could see burning in him. We were both slick with sweat and he looked almost animal in the low light, all hot breaths and pumping blood, muscles and teeth and need, always need. I was on him again, my mouth attacking his in a frenzy, giving him no quarter as I thrust my tongue deep in his mouth and my granite hard dick in his ass, taking him to his extent as those waves rose high enough to drown us. Both of us stopped breathing, mouths and lungs full of each other, his arms clinging to me so tight you'd think I held him over an abyss. Then the moment shattered and I poured the last of myself into him and I felt him shake with it, arriving with me, singing into my mouth. Then it was like we melted into one another and became one unit of good in the world, something complete and pure and rare. Two lost folks that found each other in the dark and built a fire. I pulled my face from that long kiss to look at him, his pale skin flushed pink and his dark eyes dancing. His mouth hung open like he'd lost control of it and his lips were rubbed raw around by my beard. I thought of the pink lips he'd have for the next few days and smiled. He noticed and looked at me quizzically. "What?" He asked, suddenly self conscious. "I was just thinking how beautiful you are." It wasn't a lie. It made him blush more though, which I didn't think possible. That made me want to tease him some more but I restrained myself. "So, how are you feeling?" He smiled at that. "I don't need to tell you." But he did anyway by grinding his ass against me. "I feel the same way you do." We stared into each other's eyes, noses barely touching, sharing breath and thought until the room was dark. I don't know when we slept, but when we did he was there in my dream, his hand on mine, leading me into a strange new landscape.