Date: Sat, 26 May 2007 18:49:48 -0700 From: The Satyr Subject: Stag God's Apostle, Chapter 3 Hey, all. I've gotten some fantastic feedback from this series, which I greatly appreciate. Some of you have asked some questions about the background of this setting, which I have shared with one or two folks. But, in order to do so, as well as to update you when a new chapter of this Cycle is available, I have created a group at the following address: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/stag-god-cycle/ Join for updates, as well as the occasional short essay on parts of the world, as well as a place to discuss the Cycle. I'd love to hear from all of you, and perhaps get some ideas where you might like to see these cycles go. Any good mythology is built to the needs of the people it serves, and you are the people this Cycle is written for. As usual, involves adult situations, with all that entails. You've been warned. +++++++++++++++++++ This story is (c) The Oaken Satyr, 2006 - 2007 The Stag God's Apostle - A Continuation of the Cycle of Ashlan ++++++++++++++++++++ Chapter Three: A Decision Made The night was cool in the forest -- just cool enough to warrant the use of their blankets. Underneath those blankets, the night was hot, though. It was the hot of sweating skin, of ragged, passionate breath, of hardened cock driving to the core of a young man's body, sliding sleekly in and out of his grease-slicked ass. Olusku bore down on top of Ireku, his breath coming more and more raggedly. His thick cock was hard -- achingly so -- and he drove it in and out of the boy's tight hole with a vengeance. Ireku could only hold on to the wooden frame of the bed he shared with his master and lover, and pray that it didn't fall apart with the fury of the huntsman's lovemaking. Ireku gasped as Olusku withdrew that fat cock, and he turned the boy over. Moving quickly, urgently, the huntsman grabbed one of his apprentice's thighs and guided him in lifting his leg, raising it to Olusku's shoulder. Then, with but a quick fumble, his cockhead found the boy's hole -- now friction-hot and gaping with his need and the urgency of his master's pounding -- and pushed back in. There was slight resistance, and Ireku gasped again as Olusku forced the cock home, deep into his boy, to the hilt, and began pounding once more. Ireku glanced up at Olusku's face, illuminated by the moonlight pouring in through the window. There was something strange on his face tonight. There was anger, maybe, frustration or fear. But there was also something else, he saw, as in the midst of fucking, a single tear trickled down Olusku's grizzled cheek. Finally, the huntsman clasped the boy to him and cried out a strangled cry, as he emptied his seed in the boy. As he did so, Ireku's hand found his own cock -- not so impressive as the thick piece of meat Olusku bore, perhaps, but still respectable. It didn't take long before his cock was coating Olusku in his seed, and the two collapsed onto the bed. Thank you for not collapsing, Ireku thought jokingly, patting the wooden frame behind his head. The young blonde apprentice was afraid that Olusku had slipped right into sleep. He often did following their lovemaking when he'd had a particularly trying or strenuous day. The slight tugging that came of Ireku pulling the blankets onto them raised Olusku's head, and he looked at his apprentice with affection. "Cold, are you?" he asked, playfully. "And here I just worked my nethers off to get you warm." "Ungrateful, aren't I?" Ireku replied, playfully aghast, as though he were mortified at his own rudeness. "I thought you'd gone to sleep, actually. And no, I'm burning up, truth be told. But I know once I fall asleep, I'll chill, and I'd rather be a little warm now than a lot cold later." "Heh," Olusku chuckled, sitting up in bed and pouring himself some water from the pitcher beside their bed. "Wise lad, you are. Where'd you get that from?" "Not the likes of you, I wager," Ireku replied, stealing the cup from Olusku and emptying it in one swallow and handed it back. Olusku looked mournfully at his now-empty cup. "Wise, but greedy," he sighed and poured himself more. "And cheeky, to boot. No good will come of this, you mark my words." Ireku smiled as he grabbed the blankets and leaned in to rest his head against Olusku's wide, furry chest. His heat was pleasurable, and he felt sturdy. "I'm glad to see you in better spirits, Olusku," Ireku said in an intimate whisper. "It kills me when you are angry, or sad. Although, I have to admit, it didn't impact our fucking. In fact, it was more...fervent than ever, really." "That's what thinking about Him does to me, lad." Ireku looked up at Olusku, who was looking away. Ireku's eyes followed his to the open window, to the trees of the vast forest silhouetted against the nearly-full moon. "You mean Ashlan, don't you?" Ireku asked. "I do, yes." "Do you...do you miss him?" Ireku asked, somewhat afraid of the reply. Olusku looked down fondly at his apprentice, and smoothed his hair out of the way. "Yes, but not in the way I'd miss you," the huntsman smiled, leaning down to kiss the boy's temple. "My time with the Stag God was...powerful. Life-changing, I suppose. The time I spent in his arms was like nothing else; it was like finally discovering the reason behind all of this rutting and fucking we do all our lives. It was like discovering..." he said, smoothing his hand over Ireku's ass under the blankets, fingering the hole for a moment. "It was like discovering that sex -- hot, heavy, filthy rutting, with someone you find overwhelmingly sense-shatteringly beautiful -- was the point of life. It wasn't a distraction from living your life at all. It was the point of it. The way we crave someone's arms around us, the way we love hot breath on our throats and cocks, the way we can give warmth and satisfaction and peace and belonging, all through simply combining the parts of our bodies in new and interesting ways? That no matter who you are, rich, poor, ugly, handsome and everyone in between, you can take part in this strange miracle. The fact that everyone can have sex doesn't make it base and common and disgusting -- that is part of its miracle, more so than a thousand angelic visitations from the Lord of Light. It's special not because only a few mumbling priests are given that miracle, but because everyone is." Ireku simply listened as his master talked, and he couldn't help but smile. Olusku almost never said more than five words at a time, yet give him the chance to talk about the Stag God, and he'd go on and on. Still, he spoke with such passion that, on some level, Ireku couldn't help but envy him the experience. "This is about that orc, isn't it?" the apprentice asked, after Olusku had fallen quiet and contemplative again. "It is," he said, without taking his gaze away from the window. Ireku glanced up and he knew with a smile that, on some primal level, Olusku was hoping to see that mighty head of seven tines silhouetted against the moon. Then he turned and met the apprentice's eyes. "I want to free him." Ireku winced. That was going to be...almost impossible. Not to mention dangerous. Plus, if it was known that they'd been involved in something like that, the Church would stop at nothing to find them again. There was no way they could stay anywhere near here -- or anywhere the Church had any kind of influence, really. Which was, basically speaking, all the human lands he knew of. "I don't know how, mind you," Olusku sighed, his tone telling Ireku that he knew all of the things his apprentice had just been thinking about himself. He was aware of the dangers and the risks to doing so. "It's just...it's a bad end for such a good man." "He's an orc," Ireku said, hesitantly. "I know he is," Olusku chuckled. "And yet he and I have something deeper and more primal in common than I and many other humans. I feel that he is more my brother than anyone else I know right now. I am closer only to you, and even so, he and I share things that you and I do not. I can't help but think that...what was that?" The woodman's head snapped up, glancing toward the door. Ireku had thought he'd heard something, too. They heard it again -- the crunch of foot on gravel, the slow and almost-silent sliding of a blade from sheathe, the sneaking attempts of men unaccustomed to stealth. Olusku exploded from the bed and snatched up his axe and shield just as their door groaned and shook from the weight of at least one man trying to fling it open. Fortunately, Olusku always barred the door. The huntsman raced to the window just as someone shattered the wooden shutters. "Open this door, in the name of the Lord Keeper!" "Quickly," Olusku hissed as his axe flickered once and twice, bringing screams and retreat from the men trying to clamber in through the window. He kicked some of the clothing on the floor to Ireku and nodded to the wood-hatch. "Go! Flee into the forest! Don't let them find you!" Ireku hesitated just long enough to see that his continued presence there was distracting Olusku -- one of the Keeper's men, half-in the window, scored a long cut down the huntsman's arm. Olusku roared in pain and shield bashed the man, slamming his sword from his grip and driving him back out the window. The apprentice raised the hatch on the small passageway built into the wall. It led to the small empty space in the wall -- one end opened in the house near the hearth, while the other lead outside to the stone where they did all of their firewood chopping. It was simpler to throw the piles of chopped wood into the little space for storage and easy access during those cold winter nights -- rather than marching outside, one just opened the hatch and hauled in some wood. Now, however, it served as his escape hatch. Crawling over the piles of wood, and pushing through the inevitable spider webs that such places attracted, Ireku glanced back behind him. The door had shut securely, as it was designed to. He cautiously opened the door here and glanced out. No one was on this side of the house -- to all outward appearances, it had neither doors nor windows. Ireku paused for a moment to pull the trousers Olusku had thrown him and then gingerly stepped out of the hatch. He mastered his breathing and his heartbeat -- fast heartbeats generated fear, and fear stank. With calm breathing, and movements timed to take advantage of the natural sounds of the forest, Ireku performed the Huntsman's Tread, as Olusku had taught him. In a short span of time, he was completely out of sight of their small house, and only then did he allow himself the luxury of a few choking, sobbing tears. Soon, he continued his journey deeper into the forests, to find shelter for the night and to make arrangements for food and water until he could find out what had become of Olusku. The shadows of the forest swallowed him, and he'd never felt so alone here.