by Johnny Miles
him, draping his own body over Alonso's to give him his own heat.
“You really should go,” Alonso said unexpectedly. He sounded far-off.
Arbol threw an arm around him and nestled his head on Alonso's shoulder,
torn between the anxiety on his mind and the feelings in his heart as the fingers of
his right hand laced with Alonso's fingers.
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Chapter Eighteen
Raúl stood on his small balcony while Bernardo's soft, steady breathing droned
in the background. He walked back into his bedroom and pulled his clothes on. The
time had come. He'd received word earlier that Arbol had sneaked back to Casa
Rodrigo. But by the time he and Perez were ready to ride out, to demand Arbol be
turned over, Bernardo had shown up.
Raúl walked to the side of the bed where his poor, sweet Bernardo was still
tied up. Bernardo truly was a kind and marvelous man. Too bad he had to fuck it all
up by getting married to Raúl's half-sister, Adelina, and having children.
Smarmy bitch. Doesn't know how to appreciate her man. But none of that
mattered now. Bernardo was all his again.
Still, he had to admit it had been sweet of Bernardo to ride out to try to
persuade him to call off the search. Sweet, naive, and disturbingly annoying. Did he
really think Raúl was that dumb? He had hated knocking Bernardo out, but what
else was he supposed to do? How else was he supposed to keep him?
Raúl admired his handiwork on Bernardo's ass, lightly tracing around the
scarring tissue where he'd branded Bernardo just a few short hours ago. Then he
kissed the nape of his neck. He waited to see if Bernardo stirred. When he didn't,
Raúl tugged at the ties that still held a naked Bernardo in place, on his stomach,
arms and legs spread wide. Then he opened his bedroom door and walked out.
Bernardo dared to open his eyes as Velasco clomped out of the room.
Humiliated, he hated himself for failing to anticipate that Velasco might attack him
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before he ever got the chance to pull out his revolver. How foolish he had been! It
was like walking into a trap he had set himself.
Then, when Velasco had revealed that Arbol was hiding out in his house,
Bernardo had been stunned. If he had known, he never would have left the house,
never would have left his son and the slaves alone. Abandoned the people whose
lives depended on him for safety.
Bernardo tried not to think about that now. He tried to tell himself that his
slaves were resourceful. If nothing else, Arbol was. How else could he have sneaked
back into the house without anyone knowing? Or had the other slaves been in on
the secret?
Bernardo forced the thoughts from his mind, but they were replaced with the
memory of Velasco's branding him. It had been excruciating. In fact, the smell of his
searing flesh still burned his nostrils.
Anger welled up within him. Anger at the things Velasco had done to make
Bernardo feel cheap and dirty.
No! I will not follow that train of thought. I must focus!
Bernardo tugged at his restraints with every ounce of strength he could
muster. When he'd grown drained and tired, he lowered his head onto the pillow,
closed his eyes, and did something he had not done in a very long time. He prayed—
for accuracy, when the time came to pull the trigger.
* * *
Arbol awakened to feel Alonso's cock, hard, throbbing, and very demanding
against his backside. His own cock stirred as he thought of impaling himself on
Alonso while he still slept. The rest of Alonso's body had finally stopped giving off
heat, and the only truly hot part of him now was the insistent pulsing of his young
master's shaft nestled along the crack of his ass.
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Now knowing what it felt like to wake up beside Alonso, his Alonso, Arbol
realized he loved the feeling that washed over him. He felt safe. Needed. Like he
belonged.
And he was glad he ignored his initial instinct to flee. If nothing else, if he had
to turn himself in, at least he was able to take care of Alonso the way he wanted to.
And if Velasco and don Bernardo were truly coming for him, then he would take
what he wanted, one last time. He just hoped and prayed that it would be enough to
sustain him while he endured the lashing he was sure to receive and lifelong
enslavement to a sadistic man he hated more than anything.
Arbol turned and looked at the sleeping Alonso. In the pale light of the waning
moon, he looked so peaceful, almost like a little boy. Arbol touched his young
master's forehead. Cool, dry. He then ran his hand down his neck, his shoulders, the
muscled arms beneath the white cotton of the nightshirt.
A heat began to build inside Arbol. What was it about Alonso that aroused him
so much? But it wasn't just arousal. There was something more. Something deeper
and far more intense than just sex. It was like a constant burning that made him
crave to be in Alonso's company.
Arbol closed his eyes, allowing his entire body to press against Alonso and
drink in his energy. He inhaled, aroused by the smell of him, the heat of his body.
And of course, there was that wonderful muscle. That magnificent cock that
made Arbol weak every time he thought of it. Every time he imagined sucking on it,
feeling it throb, tasting Alonso's cum. The sensation coursing through him as it
impaled him the way it had the night before he ran away.
He had never been closer to anyone than he had that night.
Arbol tentatively kissed the sleeping Alonso and moved slowly as he gently
pushed him onto his back. He pulled down the sheets and lifted the nightshirt up to
reveal the thick, long, dark cock that lay flat against Alonso's belly. The head
reached far past his belly button, and the foreskin was pulled back slightly,
exposing the bright pink head, already wet and drooling with precum.
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Arbol gently nudged Alonso's legs apart and wondered what his young master
was dreaming about that had caused him to be so aroused. And as he positioned
himself before Alonso, Arbol decided that it didn't matter. What mattered was that
he was there, right now, at that very moment in time.
Arbol felt as though something, or someone, had taken him over and pushed
all thought aside except for that of pleasing Alonso. He lowered his face to Alonso's
crotch, inhaled deeply of the musky scent and, as he closed his eyes, opened his
mouth and suckled lovingly on first one, then the other of Alonso's plump balls.
He enjoyed the way Alonso's body reacted, the way his hips pushed up. He
loved the sensation of Alonso's thick cock throbbing against his face as he came up
for air.
Arbol held Alonso's cock up by the base with two fingers. It felt so heavy. So
full of substance and life.
Trembling with desire, Arbol finally reached the head of Alonso's cock, opened
his mouth wider, and encircled the tip. He pushed back the skin, and he suckled
greedily on the clear, sweet, and thick liquid.
A fire seemed to burst inside Arbol. He wrapped his lips around the head of
&
nbsp; Alonso's cock and truly began to slurp noisily before licking the rest of the shaft. Up
and down. Top and bottom. Side to side. Slicking up the enormous cock with spit
until it was completely coated.
Arbol raised up slightly, on his elbows. Using only his lips, mouth, tongue, and
throat, Arbol made love to Alonso's thick, veiny, meaty cock as if he would never see
it again. He put his entire soul and all his desire into his mouth, into the worship of
Alonso's penis as if it were a god. And as Arbol swallowed more and more, he felt his
throat expand willingly. He found it easier to take as he continued further and
pushed to take it all down his throat.
Until he buried his nose in Alonso's pubic hair.
Arbol worked his throat muscles, one hand between Alonso's legs, just beneath
the laden balls. He then opened his hand and lovingly cupped them, wrapping
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thumb and forefinger together in such a way that he gently tugged on the bulbous
sac.
Beneath him, Alonso began to stir. A moan escaped him as Arbol pulled back
and bobbed his head up and down, slowly, teasing. He wanted to bring Alonso to the
edge of insanity so that if they never saw one another again, at the very least
Alonso would never forget the way his cock felt buried deep down Arbol's throat.
Arbol realized there truly was a sense of power in sucking another man. In
taking him, willingly, completely down his throat. It was like taking his energy,
feeling his power surge into him. An exchange of spirit.
As Alonso stirred more and more, Arbol felt one of his hands behind the back
of his head and knew that the fever was definitely gone from the young man he
loved. The man he would always and forever be tied to.
And even as Alonso groaned back to life, cock pulsing rapidly, the first spurt of
cum hit the back of Arbol's throat, and he swallowed greedily at the sweet and salty
nectar.
Arbol lowered his head until the entire shaft of Alonso's cock was buried down
his throat. He planted his lips firmly around the circumference of the base, and his
throat muscles worked to milk the shaft of every last drop.
There was a copious amount of cum.
Arbol simply kept on swallowing, rolling Alonso's balls in one hand, gently
tugging on them with the other. And in a strange way, Arbol felt as though he had
sucked out the very last of whatever it was that had taken hold of his beloved
Alonso.
This was a dream. Surely, it must be. It had to be. Nothing could ever really
feel this good, could it? Alonso thought as he slowly and, as if from a very long
distance, came to his senses.
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Waves of love filled him, making his heart swell. An incredibly intense energy
surged through him as his cock throbbed, expertly manipulated by an incredibly
warm pair of lips. There was a warmth between his legs, just beneath his balls. No,
he realized. Not beneath his balls, enveloping them. Something tugging on them
even as they were cradled.
The warmth spread. His cock swelled, and Alonso groaned as he exploded in a
way he'd never experienced before. It felt strangely as if something were leaving his
body, slowly draining out of him.
Alonso's eyelids fluttered. He was momentarily disoriented as he gradually
became aware he was in his room and not alone. He stirred, still reveling in the
peace that followed orgasm.
“Arbol,” Alonso muttered. The runaway stopped nursing on Alonso's softening
cock long enough to look up at him.
Arbol lowered Alonso's nightshirt. He crawled up to be face-to-face with
Alonso.
With a tender kiss, Alonso and Arbol wrapped their arms around one another
as best they could and clung to each other.
They remained in perfect, silent stillness.
“You must leave me, Arbol,” Alonso said after a moment.
But the only response was the sound of their hearts beating as one.
Arbol struggled with his emotions. In the dim light of the moon, it was easy to
forget that others may have suffered because of his actions or that his life was in
danger. It was easy to believe that everything was as it had been.
“Just once more.” Arbol kissed Alonso. “And then I'll leave. I promise.”
And though Alonso protested at first, Arbol insisted, feeling Alonso begin to
relax and melt against him, their hands suddenly all over each other.
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“Oh, Arbol. Dear, sweet, loving Arbol,” Alonso whispered in his ear. “What are
you doing? You really must leave. I don't want you to be captured. I could never live
with myself.” And yet his body and cock told a different story.
Arbol pulled away long enough to stand and slowly strip before Alonso. He
watched as Alonso smiled sadly and ran a hand over his belly, clutched at his
distended brown cock. Then Arbol climbed back into bed and wrapped his arms
around Alonso's neck. He pressed his lips against the Spaniard with fervor. No
matter what Alonso said, no matter what he did, if this would be the last Arbol
would see of him, then he was going to make sure that he took what he wanted.
Arbol tugged on Alonso's nightshirt. Alonso shifted his body, still weak from
the fever, and allowed the runaway to strip him. He lay naked, burning once more,
but this time from desire. His anxious longing to make love to Arbol grew stronger,
except that he wasn't sure he would be able to.
“I don't know if I can, Arbol. I'm still a bit weak.”
“Sshhhh! Don't worry. You just lie back and relax. I will do everything. You
don't have to do a thing but close your eyes and enjoy how I'm going to make love to
your cock. This sweet”—Arbol clutched at it, brought his mouth down on it, and
kissed, licked, and sucked in between his words—“beautiful, delicious cock.”
Arbol's mouth encircled him. He closed his eyes and gave in to the sensation as
Arbol noisily slurped on the entire shaft from tip to base.
After a moment, Arbol straddled him. The heat between the slave's legs was
incredible. Like walking into a fireplace.
He opened his eyes and Arbol looked down at him sweetly. He smiled up at
him and felt as Arbol, without ever breaking eye contact, reached for Alonso's cock,
lifted his ass, and held the shaft as he lowered down onto it.
Their eyes remained locked, staring into one another as the look of pain etched
itself onto Arbol's face, and he, ever so slowly, continued to push himself down on
the head of Alonso's cock.
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Alonso's gaze never wavered, and he gasped as Arbol let out a sigh of pleasure
when the head of his cock pressed past the first ring. Arbol kept going, sliding
farther, taking more and more of the erection until finally Arbol sat fully and rested
his entire weight on Alonso's hips.
Arbol closed his eyes for just a moment, and Alonso watched the pain on his
face transform into a look of ecstatic joy.
Arbol's ass muscles clamped down on his shaft, milking his cock. A moment
later, the young fugitive moved his hips. Slowly at first, then more insistently, until
he was rising and fa
lling with loud smacks.
His cock bounced up and down, and his balls slapped on Alonso's belly. Alonso
could feel the sticky precum as it splattered on his belly, and he felt compelled to
grab Arbol by the base and stroke him with one hand while he clutched at Arbol's
balls with the other.
“Oh God. Alonso, I never thought having you inside me would feel so
wonderful! I wish you could stay there forever.”
Alonso, caught up in the heat of the moment, ground against Arbol's
downward thrust.
Arbol leaned over and kissed him deeply, pushing his tongue past Alonso's
lips. Arbol moaned, the sound reverberating within Alonso as their fingers sought
one another and entwined. Their hands pressed together.
In the distance, Alonso thought he heard a thumping noise. Sure that it was
the beating of his heart, he continued grinding against Arbol. There was almost no
bouncing now. Just Arbol pressing down on Alonso.
The thumping again, this time louder, as they neared climax. And voices.
What the hell? Alonso thought. And recognized, too late, the one maniacal
laugh just outside the door as the familiar sensation gripped him. It was too late to
turn back. Too late to stop. There was a loud splintering. Something clattered
across the floor as the door burst wide open, and Alonso cried out in the most
intense orgasm he'd ever experienced.
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Riding Alonso, Arbol thought he heard something that might have been the
beating of his heart, the blood thumping in his ears, or the bed banging on the floor.
Frankly, it didn't matter. He didn't care. All he wanted at that moment was to take
Alonso's very essence and feel it flooding him. The cock, throbbing deep within, was
fulfilling in ways he had never experienced. Even when he was with others, and
despite that he really didn't like to get fucked, Arbol marveled at how he
desperately wanted it from Alonso.
When he leaned over to kiss Alonso, it was as if the world had stopped.
Nothing existed but him and Alonso—panting, sweating, growling. Their tongues as
