by Jeff Mann
Sarge is teaching me how to box. Shouting suggestions, he sits on the back steps. Aunt Ariminta’s beside him, stringing beans. Beside her is a pitcher of lemonade, ready for me when my exertions are over.
“You’re good at this, boy,” Sarge says, whittling a twig with his pocketknife as I punch and connect again and again. “What a fine fighter you’ll be. A man needs to learn how to take care of himself. A man needs to know how to protect what he loves.”
The dream dissolves. Drew’s calling my name.
I open my eyes to gray light. Drew, wearing nothing but his trousers, is sitting on the side of the bed, smiling at me.
“Good morning, lover. I brought you breakfast.” He’s holding a tray topped with plates of food.
“God, I love to see that bare breast of yours.” I yawn and grin. Reaching over, I tweak a pink nipple. “What time is it? Is Tessa still here?”
“We slept real late again. It’s nearly noon. Miss Tessa’s gone, but she made us breakfast before she left. Look here,” he says, placing the tray on the coverlet. “Biscuits and sausage. Fried apples. And coffee.”
Drew pulls off his trousers and climbs back onto the bed. Naked and cross-legged, side by side we make short work of our breakfast. When we’re finished, Drew carries the tray of dishes to the dresser before returning to my side.
“It’s still raining and windy, though it’s getting warmer, finally feeling like spring. I fed the horses and stoked the fire, just like Miss Tessa asked,” he says, pulling the covers over us and wrapping an arm around me.
“Today it’s just us, Ian.” He kisses my brow. “How you feeling?”
“Better.” I rest my cheek against his shoulder and an arm upon his belly. “The dizzy feeling in my head’s gone, and my ribs don’t ache as much.”
“I’m better too. How’d you sleep?”
“Real well. Except I dreamed about Sarge.”
“That ain’t surprising. A nightmare?”
“No. It was a memory more than a dream. I was a boy, and he was teaching me how to box. He was whittling with that knife.”
Drew gives a low whistle. “I’m still trying to figure out that pocketknife. How it got here. Was it really a ghost?”
“Maybe. I sure would like to believe that. I sure would like to believe, wherever his soul’s moved on to, that my uncle’s forgiven me. But…George was always so bad for looting dead men’s pockets, and he said that he helped bury Sarge. Maybe that knife was in George’s pocket and it fell out when they took Tessa to the woodshed. I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure.”
“I know one thing for sure.” Drew pulls me on top of him. Between our bellies, his member is hardening. He kisses my chin, and then my nose, and then he kisses me on the mouth, softly. I kiss him back, running a tongue along his upper lip.
“What’s that you know, Yank?” Now my sex is stiff as well. I rub it against Drew’s.
“I know that we got all day to love, and no one left to interfere. I know that today’s the day.” Drew pulls my face against his and probes my mouth with his tongue.
“Ouch. Hurts to kiss,” he mutters.
“Yep. Want to stop?”
“Naw.”
We kiss long and hard, ignoring the discomfort of our damaged mouths. Our beards grow moist; our tongues slide together.
“The day?” I pant, pulling away from my lover’s lips only to slip down his body and lick at his hairy breast. Finding a nipple, I lap it hard, then nip it gently.
Drew groans. “Oh, yes. Yes. That feels so good. That makes me even more certain. Today’s the day…uhhh! The day you been waiting for. The day I give myself to you. The day I give you—uhh!—what I been saving.”
I lift my head from his chest, wet lips agape. “Really, buddy? Are you sure?”
In answer, Drew throws back the covers. He slips out from beneath me and rolls onto his belly. He cocks his bare rump in the air, brushes hair from his face, and gives me a brilliant smile.
“I’m more sure than I’ve ever been. You’ve waited a long time, Ian. You’ve saved my life. You’ve changed my life. I want this to be all you’ve dreamed of. Tie me if you want; do whatever arouses you most, whatever your desires urge you to do. Tessa, she…” He chuckles. “She left a tin of lard on the kitchen table. I put it under the bed while you were still asleep.”
Drew lifts a hand to his mouth and moistens a forefinger with his tongue. Reaching back, he runs that finger along his own ass-crack. “I…relieved myself earlier, and I cleaned myself well. Go slow, please try not to hurt me, but take me, Ian. I owe you everything. Love me in any manner that pleases you. Use me as hard as you want.”
Trembling, I climb on top of him, my member so stiff it aches. The delight washing through me—to feel him naked and submissive beneath me—nearly erases the lingering hurt of my many wounds.
“Oh, God, Yank,” I murmur, brushing my beard across his shoulder blades, craning forward to kiss his whiskered cheek. “God, oh, God, I love you.”
“And I love you, Reb.” Drew rubs his ass against my groin. “I’ve told you many times that I belong to you. Now it’s finally time for you to take full possession.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Drew lies on his back as I bind his hands before him. Straddling his waist, I loop rope and tighten knots. He gives me no show of struggle; instead he gazes up at me, his limpid eyes full of serenity, desire, and surrender.
Now I pull his hands above his head and anchor the rope’s end to the headboard. “All right?” I say, tugging his arms taut and completing the final knot.
Drew nods. He smiles lazily, seductively. “Yep. I already told you. Whatever excites you excites me.”
“Guess you’re my prisoner again, Yank.”
“Yep. Guess so. Somehow, small as you are, you keep managing to overpower me and tie me up. Guess you’re going to ravish me now, huh?” Drew’s smile curls into a wicked grin.
“Guess so.” Bending, I kiss him. Then, sitting erect, I study him— the bruises around his eyes, his blue glance brimming with need, his shaggy hair, his injured lips. I run my fingers through the thick fur covering his muscled torso. “My shaggy-breasted Achilles,” I murmur, stroking and softly flicking his big nipples. In response, he closes his eyes, throws back his head, lifts his chest, pressing it against my roving touch, and moans.
“Does that feel good?” Taking his nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, I rub them harder, I pinch them lightly.
“You know it does, Reb. Touching me there has always heated me up something fierce. You can be rougher. I know you want to.”
I oblige, rolling the tender pink flesh between my fingers harder and harder. “Oh. Oh, Ian. Yes, Ian. It…hurts now…but…it’s…a fine hurt. A grand hurt indeed.”
I shuffle backwards, straddling his knees now. Wrapping my arms around his torso, I snuffle and lap the rich thickets of his armpits, rubbing my nose in the moist musk I find there, then bury my face in the dense honey-hued hair between his chest-mounds. For a long minute, I simply breathe in his scent. Then, squeezing the thick meat of his right pectoral in my hands, I take his nipple into my mouth. Drew gives a bass moan and bucks beneath me. I nip and chew and suck with increasing intensity till he’s heaving tiny sobs, then move to his left pectoral and do the same.
“Yes, oh… Harder. Yes…”
He’s panting and writhing by the time I pause. I roll off him, spit into my hand, and fist his thick prick. His hips thrust upwards. He jerks on his bonds, shaking the bed. Now I lick the sex-head, now the welling slit, the clear ooze forming there, and the pink groove that makes the tip heart-shaped beneath.
“Ian,” Drew groans. “Oh, Ian. Please. You got to stop. Or else. I’m getting close.”
In answer, I take his prick down my throat, tighten my lips about the hot pole of it, and bob, once, twice, thrice. Then I release him, only to shift again, straddling his chest and pushing my own erection against his cheek. I rub the head through his beard, over
his wounded lips.
Drew sighs. “Oh, yes, please.” He extends his tongue, gazing up at me with longing. “Please, Reb. Please let me taste you. Please.”
Cupping his face in my hands, I tease him, allowing him a few quick tastes, before stuffing his mouth with my member and letting him have his will. Eyes wide, he slurps and sucks, as if he were a famished man come upon an unexpected feast, till his beard’s wet with drool.
“Good boy,” I murmur, stroking his hair. Gripping the back of his head, I thrust deeper. “Get my prick good and wet for what’s to come.”
“Uh huh. Uh huh.” Drew mumbles, mouth crammed full. He nods wildly, tongue flickering along my shaft before sucking me even more desperately. Beneath me, his chest heaves.
“I…could spend…in your mouth right now,” I gasp. “But I have another prize to claim.” Pulling out, I climb off him. “Onto your elbows and knees, my beautiful captive,” I order, patting his hip.
“Yes, sir.” With a pained grunt, Drew obeys.
For long moments, I simply sit on the bed beside him, poring over his nakedness and his silent surrender. Outside, the rain continues. Somewhere, Tessa is making her way along a narrow road through the woodlands, or perhaps even doing business in Newport now. Downstairs, George and his compatriots lie dead in the yard, their bodies already beginning the gradual process of decomposition. And here, my beloved Yank presses his face into a pillow and lifts his beautiful buttocks in the air, waiting for me to take my long-postponed pleasure.
Now I position myself behind him. I run my beard over his buttocks, then down the crack of his ass. He trembles. He releases a husky whimper.
“Are you sure, Yank?” I ask again.
“Yes. Oh, yes,” he whispers. He raises his head, meets my glance, and nods before lowering his head once more.
“You’re trembling. Are you frightened, boy?”
“Yes. Yes, sir. A little.”
“I intend to give you as much pleasure as you’re about to give me. Do you believe me?” I fondle a fuzzy ass-cheek. I kiss it.
“Yes,” Drew murmurs meekly.
“When I took Thom…it hurt him at first, but then it seemed to delight him mightily.” Between my fingers, I take a tangle of crack-hair. I pull at it. Then I lick it. “So this might pain you some. You ready for that?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me if it hurts too bad. I’ll stop anytime you tell me to. All right?”
“Yes, sir.” Drew nods. “I trust you, Ian.” He heaves a deep breath. “I trust you to take care of me. I want this too.”
“My beautiful soldier,” I sigh. “I’m going to open you up now. You just relax. Ready?”
“Y-yes. Yes.”
First I cover Drew’s plump buttocks with kisses. Then I run my tongue along his crevice till he’s moaning. When my tongue grows more insistent, finding his hole and teasing it, his moans grow louder.
“God, I cherish the taste of you,” I growl, spreading his buttocks and burying my face in the hairy cleft between, golden glen between two snowy hills. I lick his opening, I bite his fuzzy cheeks, then push my tongue into him, probing and flicking. Drew sobs and grunts. He pushes his rear back against my mouth, urging me deeper.
Wetting a finger, I nudge his hole. I spit into his crack and tickle the puckered pink inside its forest of musky fur, moistening him. I run my fingertip over that most private spot, as if I were plucking the strings of a dulcimore. I pause to give his hole another tongue-lapping, then push my fingertip against his tightness. Drew gasps as his tiny gate of flesh edges open and my fingertip inches inside him.
“Oh! Oh.” Drew bucks back against my probing.
“You like this, boy?” I push in a little further. With my other hand, I reach beneath him and grip his prick, thumbing the sticky-slick head, then stroking the stiff shaft in my fist. “You surely seem to.”
“Yes! More.” Drew’s rump writhes against me, and suddenly my finger slips all the way inside.
“Oh! Ian! Oh.” Drew tosses his head. He looks back at me, eyes wild, lips wet. “That doesn’t hurt. That feels wonderful.”
“Fuck yourself, Yank.” I pull my finger nearly out, then push inside him again.
“Yes. Yes, sir. Yes.” Drew bows his head and obeys, shifting back and forth, moving his channel up and down my finger. He’s hot and slick and so tight inside, like a knot of rain-sodden satin, like a narrow cave of heaven-sent embers that warm but do not burn.
He opens up a fraction more now, and I push into him a little deeper. When my fingertip bumps a hard bulge inside, like a burl in oak wood, Drew jolts and gasps. “Oh! There! That feels…oh, it’s wonderful. Oh, I never imagined.”
I take my cue, rubbing that interior spot till his voice rises to a shout. “Yes! Good God! What—? Oh!”
“You’re liking that right much, ain’t you, my Yankee prisoner? Glad we’re alone in the house.”
Drew heaves a shaky laugh. “Yeah, guess so. Oh, Ian, why have we waited so long?”
“No more waiting, my golden-bearded boy. Think you can take another finger?”
“Yes. I think so. Go ahead. Please.”
I pull out, add more saliva, and push both forefinger and middle finger against him. His muscles clench, resist, then begin to yield beneath my digits’ insistence.
“Oh, yes!” Without prompting, Drew clutches the pillow, cocks his rear higher, backs up, and impales himself upon me. I finger-fuck him slowly and deeply. When I grasp his pulsing prick again, he shakes his head and gasps. “Oh! No! Don’t touch me there, or…”
Chuckling, I release his sex. “I think you’re ready for more now. I think you’re ready to take my cock. Are you?” Moving my fingers in and out, I kiss the base of his spine and brush his ass with my beard.
Drew heaves a shuddering sigh. He nods.
“Beg me, Drew,” I whisper. “Beg me to fuck you.”
“Please, Ian. Please, Reb. Please, sir. Fuck me now. Fuck me from behind,” Drew moans, tugging on the rope tethering him to the bed and wriggling his rump against my prodding hand. “Put your prick in me! I’m ready. I’m ready.”
In seconds I’ve fetched the lard and smoothed it over my member. Another dollop I carefully work into Drew’s asshole. Now I position the tip of my sex against the taut flesh of his entrance. I brush the head up and down his crack and grip his hips.
“Do it!” Drew snarls. “Put it in me! I don’t care if it hurts. I want you in me!”
“All right, Achilles. Here we go.”
I push. Drew grunts. He shifts his hips, angling his ass lower. I push again. His flesh fights me, then ever so slowly unclenches. When I push again, the head of my cock abruptly slides inside him.
Wet tightness swallows my prick. Ecstasy shudders through me. “God, Drew. God,” I gasp, gripping his hips harder.
Drew tenses, bound hands gripped into fists. Burying his face in the pillow, he gives a guttural moan. His hole’s flesh tightens and spasms around me. When I edge in further, another rapturous inch, he flinches.
“Oh. Ian, oh!”
Immediately I stop my invasion. “It’s hurting you, boy?”
“Yes.” Drew looks over his shoulder, swaying on his elbows. His brow’s knitted up, his bruised lips parted, his white teeth gritted. “But don’t stop. This pain is nothing…to what I’ve suffered…to how much I love you. Go on, Ian.”
“No, Drew. As much as I want you, I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been hurt enough.”
Drew bows his head. “Don’t pull out,” he growls. “We’ve come this far together. I want you inside me, damn it!” With a sudden shove and a rough sob, he bucks backwards, impaling himself completely.
“Jesus. Drew… Oh, Jesus. Drew!”
The greatest carnal bliss I’ve ever felt seizes me, beginning in my buried cock and rushing through my groin, torso, and limbs. I fall forward upon him, kissing his bandaged back, cupping his fur-soft chest-mounds in my hands and squeezing them, stroking his hunger-ridged ribs
.
“Oh, Drew, thank you. I love you, boy. I love you so much.”
His hole constricts about me. Shuddering, he spreads his legs wider. “It…uhhh! Uhh, wait a bit, please? It’s burning, but…wait, please?”
“Yes, Drew. Relax. I so want you to feel pleasure too. Let’s just rest here till it feels better.”
I can’t stop kissing his freckled shoulders, can’t stop stroking his chest. Now I spit into my palm and slip a hand around his prick. It’s softened a bit, but with a few tight strokes it’s rampant again, the tip welling once more with his sex-juice.
“Yeah. That helps. Ohhh. Yes!” He drives his prick into my hand. “The burning, it’s…less. Go on, Ian.”
I allow my cock a tentative poke.
Drew grunts. “Yeah, that’s a lot better.”
He wriggles against me. I stroke his sex faster.
“Oh! Oh, yes.” He shifts the angle of his ass again, then emits a gasp clearly composed far more of pleasure than of pain.
“There. That…spot again. Inside my ass. Your…cock’s…hitting it. So sweet, yes. Yes, Ian! Fuck me, Reb. Fuck me, lover.”
I oblige, shoving into him and pulling out, again, again, again, again, again. Frenzied now, I slap his buttocks as he were a child in need of punishment. I bite his back. I pinch and twist his nipples. I clutch and tug his swaying balls. I pound his asshole, harder, faster.
Drew doesn’t protest. He’s fully with me here, inside this loving and brutal moment that stretches on, both timeless and evanescent. “Yes,” he pants, in between low growls and choked sobs, urging me on. “Yes, Ian! Yes! Give me more. Fuck me harder. Use my hole. Give me your seed.”
We pause, gasping for air. Slowly, so as not to dislodge me, Drew lowers himself onto his belly, spreading his thighs wider still.
“Lie on top of me, Reb. I want to feel you on top of me,” Drew moans.
I oblige him, my sweaty chest pressed to his sweaty back, one arm wrapped around his torso while I recommence hammering the tight gap between his buttocks. When his moaning mounts, I clamp a hand over his lips, muffling his mouth. He seems to savor this gesture of dominance, for his response is a vigorous series of nods. Pushing his jaw more deeply into my grip, growling low, he bucks back against me. When I roll us onto our sides, jerk his head back against mine and work his prick, he thrashes, shouting against my hand. Inside my pumping fist, his member pulses and jumps.
