by Watts, Mia
“Amaro.” Flynn croaked on the vowels. “I have to take a leak.”
Amaro’s ebony eyes shown like the very image of the evil heathen, firelight flickering against black-as-black iries. His dark hair, only shadows that draped loosely over his head, keeping the hollows shaded and deep.
Flynn could almost see this picture played out over pre-history, this same scene, the same man, the same fire, the same unspoken threat. Perhaps calling forth lingering spirits with chanted words and hypnotic drumbeats pounding their way beyond the skin, into the mind, into the very depth of his chest and drawing him unerringly into the unknown.
“Pee?” Flynn tried again. He couldn’t find a word in the recesses of his mind that translated, so he carefully sat up, nodded to his own crotch and made running water sounds.
Amaro’s lips twitched with humor.
“Please.” I’m so shifting into a fox the minute they leave me alone. Doing it now wouldn’t work, since shifting took painful moments when he was left completely vulnerable. He’d begin a shift, and he’d be easily caught before he regained his senses.
Amaro’s gaze raked over him, not unpleasantly. Finally, he jerked his chin in an upward nod and rose. He put the spear down, well out of reach from Flynn, though he needn’t have. Flynn’s hands, still tied behind his back, had no practice of using a long pointy stick to untie them and fight his way to freedom. Amaro didn’t know that, though.
Amaro squatted, threading his arm through the crooks of Flynn’s elbows and helped him stand. He faced Flynn out at the rim of the cave. Then pushing the foliage aside, Amaro put a hand between Flynn’s shoulder blades and shoved.
For a split second, Flynn thought he was going to die, but Amaro caught his forearms.
“Really? You want me to just pee leaning out of a cave?” Flynn asked.
“Finish,” Amaro growled.
“Fine, but I really don’t want to know what you have in mind if I ever need to do the other. How long have I been asleep?” he asked, making conversation as he relieved himself.
“One day.”
Flynn grimaced. Judging from the faintness through the leaves of the obscuring branches, more like a day and a half. It had turned to night already.
Once he’d finished, Amaro led him to a boulder. He lifted a hide bowl from a nook in the wall. Flynn saw two others, and a floppy thing, filled with water. Amaro used a forked branch to scoop rocks out of the fire pit and dropped them into the bowl. He did this over and over, replacing wet rocks with freshly heated ones until the water boiled. Then untying a pouch from his waist, Amaro dug through, scattering herbs into the hot water.
Near the fire, Flynn noticed various roots and leaves. Amaro silently chopped them into the pot with a wedged rock. What looked like a strip of jerky followed, then he put the bowl on the tripod over the fire.
“So you like to cook?” Flynn asked.
Amaro looked up speculatively, but didn’t answer.
“What are the other bowls of water for?”
Amaro brought one. He smashed a root against a rock, adding drops of water until it lathered, then scrubbed it into a paste. “Wash,” he told Flynn.
“You first,” Flynn snorted.
Amusement flickered in Amaro’s eyes. He locked gazes with Flynn, which Flynn found a little unnerving. “I’m honored to begin the testing.”
“Hey, let’s just stop that kind of talk right here.”
Amaro fiddled with his waist thong. He got to his knees, legs spread, and pulled the loin cloth free. Flynn’s breath stuttered as firelight lovingly licked Amaro’s naked body.
“Je-esus!” Flynn swore softly.
Amaro seemed to know exactly how impressive he looked, hard body, dark tiny nipples and small, quarter-sized areolas. His thick, sleeping cock, coppery head winking at him from its hideout of foreskin, rested over heavy, dusky balls which drooped sullenly between his thighs on his nearly hairless body.
Amaro gave a succinct huff of approval, clearly pleased that Flynn understood how fortunate he was to lay eyes on Amaro’s gifts. It was pride well-founded. He sprinkled fresh water on himself, scooped up a palmful of sudsy root, and rubbed it on his body.
Flynn watched, fascinated as Amaro’s large hands touched himself. Amaro slowed when he noted Flynn’s interest.
“This test will be short lived, priest. I think you don’t like women.”
“No shit.”
The man paused. “You wish to…”
“No, no, it’s an expression. Just an expression,” Flynn hurried to say. “It means, you’re right. Women don’t interest me.”
Amaro chuckled. The sound spilled like wicked sin from his beautiful lips. “Koda and I will see that it’s true.”
“Maybe being held captive isn’t so bad,” Flynn mused. A little diversionary kink wouldn’t be terrible. His captors were sexy as hell, but they were still captors, he reasoned. Flynn mentally shook himself. “I’m not having sex with you or Koda. If you’d asked me out, taken me to dinner, there’d be something to discuss. Keeping me tied up isn’t exactly romantic.”
“It would go well with you to do as you were commanded by the gods. Mimiteh is upon us.”
Mimiteh. Full moon. “What’s up with the full moon?” he asked cautiously.
“In three days time, you will be called by Macawi to stand before him and the virgins of the empire. You must resist them until the moon sleeps.”
“So the idea is to get me so hot for men that I never look at the women? Sweet!” Flynn licked his lips. “You got your work cut out for you. Better bring in all the hot men and let me stuff my cock in them. You never know when I’ll turn straight,” he informed Amaro in all mock-seriousness.
Alarm widened Amaro’s eyes. “You will have only me and Koda. Will that suffice to whet your appetite for men, priest?”
Amaro circled his soapy fist on his cock and slid in and out of the makeshift opening.
“I’ll make do,” Flynn choked.
Amaro nodded, pleased. “Good. You must never explore a woman’s body again. You will choose your consorts from the young men after you pass the testing.”
“I promise. Not one woman. Ever.” His eyes locked on Amaro’s soapy cock glistening in the firelight. No need for Amaro to know that Flynn was gay, through and through. There wasn’t a woman alive equipped to satisfy his needs. Maybe those other priests went both ways, but not Flynn.
What the fuck am I saying? I don’t want to be a priest.
Amaro groaned, enjoying his fist as he pumped into it with a more substantial thrust. The dark coppery head poked out the other end, precum like a diamond on its tip.
Flynn’s mind went blank, frozen except for Amaro’s pumping cock and the release suggested with each wet slide of flesh around flesh.
“You have more to say?” Amaro asked.
“Uh.” Flynn’s gaze remained fixed on the other man’s cock. “I, uh. I think I’m good for the moment.”
“You are not good to deny your calling.” Amaro stopped rubbing himself as he spoke.
Flynn was torn between asking Amaro to keep jacking off, or arguing the point that he’d been taken hostage, stripped naked by two strangers and really needed to get back to the hotel before his suitcase was taken for collateral or his card charged for another night.
Whoever Amaro and Koda were, they were diehard lunatics. Fucking awesome lunatics but still card carrying members of the crazy-pants society for crazies. Okay, so maybe he didn't think they were actually crazy, but it was an easy explanation to latch onto while he made sense of the rest of everything.
Maybe if he just played along, this whole thing would end peacefully. Maybe they’d let him go after they jacked off a lot, fucked him senseless, and slapped his ass. God, he wished he had his camera.
Which presented another series of concerns. When he’d shifted, he’d have left his clothes and all that was with them, behind. He hadn’t seen them at Woodhedge. Had Amaro and Koda taken his wallet, phone, identi
fication, hotel key—they’d been in his pants pockets and jacket.
“What do you want?” Flynn asked. He tucked his chin to his chest looking at the other man guardedly.
“You will watch,” Amaro answered.
He resumed stroking his cock, taking up more water and moistening the engorged length. Once he grew rigid, Amaro finished soaping his body. He took the bowl of fresh water and rinsed himself off. Droplets shown like jewels in the darkened cave.
Despite his annoyance at being trapped, Flynn’s throat went dry. Amaro’s magnificence was undeniable. If circumstances were different, say they were in a club drinking at the bar, Flynn would have no qualms taking this man home with him.
“Now, I wash you.” Amaro’s husky voice dipped lower on that promise.
Flynn’s cock twitched in anticipation.
Amaro brought the remaining bowl to him and scooped another palm full of soap root. Flynn couldn’t tear his eyes from the approaching man’s bobbing cock.
“Rise.”
Flynn was already sitting on his heels. He wasn’t thrilled about exposing his attributes and revealing just how interesting he found Amaro’s. But Amaro reached him and pulled him to standing by the elbow. Then wetting his hands, he ran them quickly over Flynn’s body.
Flynn closed his eyes and willed his body to behave. He needn’t have worried about the wet down, it was the soap up which he should have feared. Amaro’s hands coasted over his body, kneading his shoulders and rubbing his pecs. He flipped across Flynn’s nipples, and Flynn swallowed a groan.
Flynn watched Amaro’s expression as he meticulously lathered every inch of Flynn’s torso. Hot hands slid easily through his chest hair then down his abdomen. He sucked in sharply. It didn’t stall Amaro’s downward progression in the least.
A groan ripped Flynn’s throat as Amaro handled his aching cock. He pumped it like he had his own, cupping Flynn’s balls in another sure hand, until he rocked his hips, fucking Amaro’s fist.
“Who do you think of?” Amaro demanded to know.
Flynn shook his head, not wanting to admit he was imagining Amaro’s mouth instead of his fist.
Amaro made his fist tighter, and Flynn shivered with need.
“What does she look like?” Amaro snarled.
Flynn’s eyes shot open and he turned his head to stare into Amaro’s snarling face. “She?”
“All men imagine a woman until they are trained otherwise,” he spat.
“Not this one,” he snapped.
He wasn’t sure if it was petulance or pride, but he wanted to shut Amaro up. He fucked the man’s hand and Amaro honestly thought Flynn wished it were a woman? Did he miss the erection Amaro’s nakedness caused? God, his balls were practically blue with need.
Amaro stepped menacingly closer. Something in his black gaze captivated Flynn. Emotions shifted just under the surface and Flynn wanted to know what they were. He thought he saw wariness, a touch of fear, perhaps lust. Could he hope he’d seen lust?
The man’s thumb circled the sensitive tip of Flynn’s cock on each pull, scattering his thoughts like so much dust on the wind. When Amaro’s soapy fingers split his ass cheeks to clean the tight rosette, Flynn lost all reserve. He abruptly leaned forward, kissing the man’s snarling lips and rejoicing when he tasted Amaro’s involuntary gasp.
Chapter Five
Amaro hadn’t anticipated the kiss. He didn’t know why Flynn kissed him. A man didn’t have cravings for other men the way they craved women. He knew this was true, because that’s what warriors were taught. It’s what made the priests great. It’s what made them separate and mysterious.
He’d enjoyed women from time to time, though he enjoyed the companionship of other men more. What warrior didn’t? What warrior didn’t thrill at the hunt? Didn’t grow hard when defeating his enemy? What warrior didn’t embrace other warriors in celebration? They merely stopped short of partaking in the rights that were reserved for the priest.
Amaro tried to tighten his lips, to discourage Flynn from pressing his mouth against his. But instead of being horrified, Amaro was curious. There’d been times he’d looked at Koda and marveled at the grace of his form. He’d once found Koda laughing and had been unable to look away from the divine curl of his lips. As a youth, he’d once had a fleeting thought about what the handful of crushed wild berries tasted like on Koda’s lips.
Flynn tasted of wild mint. His lips were strong and possessing, not shy and soft like a woman’s. He was bold, opening his mouth to Amaro and invading him with his tongue.
This shouldn’t be, Amaro thought. Priests chose lovers, but not from warrior stock. They chose from boys groomed until they reached an age, and were bestowed the honor of joining as the priest’s tehila.
Flynn’s magic was great, if he could bring a warrior like Amaro to fullness and make him desire a joining. Flynn’s power frightened him, and he almost backed away. The pale man made the decision for him, bucking hard into Amaro’s hand, crying out with such great passion that Amaro’s own cock jerked as seed spilled from him seconds before Flynn anointed the air with jets of pure white essence that hissed and sizzled on the stones by the fire.
Amaro hurried to clean the soap root from Flynn’s body, shamed by his reaction to the priest. His hands shook, and he kept his eyes away, fearing Flynn would look into his soul and detect the secret he’d hidden from all others. The secret that only took Flynn’s kiss to free and caused him to spill his seed.
Gods, what have you brought upon me? Only a warrior can lead the people. Not tehila.
Flynn dropped to his knees as Amaro moved away without so much as a slap on his ass. Flynn struggled to control his breathing, feeling like the chaotic rasp told too much about the effect Amaro had on him. Not that ejaculating into Amaro’s fist had been subtle.
He took pleasure in remembering the hot spurt of cum hitting his hip as Amaro emptied on him. God, that would be one to remember when he got back home and jacked off to this moment.
He reluctantly admitted that he’d rather have had Amaro’s cum shooting down his throat, his own numb lips wrapped around that beautiful golden-brown cock. As surly as Amaro was, Flynn would bet a Benjamin that he tasted salty and bitter.
Flynn chuckled at the thought.
Amaro’s back went rigid as he stirred the pot of soup. Taking it off the tripod, he served up two gourd bowls. Putting them down, he crouched behind Flynn’s back. Flynn’s bindings loosened.
“It’s about goddamned time,” he muttered.
Amaro moved to the other side of the fire, between Flynn and the opening of the cave. He sat cross-legged and picked up his bowl to sip from it.
“Where’s Koda?” Flynn asked, needing conversation more than silence to sulk in. “Are you taking turns jacking me off, or do I get to fuck one of you soon?”
That finally got Amaro to look at him, but just as quickly, Amaro looked away. “You will fuck your tahila. We’re merely trainers, priest.”
Tahila. That was lover, right?
“Let me get this straight. What you just did to my cock isn’t the same thing as being my lover? Because, baby, you were amazing.” Flynn added the last bit just to see Amaro cringe. He wasn’t disappointed. A smile tugged at Flynn’s lips. “Wait a sec. So, you’re telling me that you didn’t enjoy that at all? Really?”
“I have duties.”
“I see. And shooting your wad all over my side had nothing to do with enjoyment?” Flynn needled.
Amaro lifted his bowl, hiding his face. Behind him the foliage rattled. Amaro didn’t seem alarmed, but Flynn watched until he saw Koda’s friendly face.
“Hi, Koda.”
Koda lifted his brows. He smiled. The man had a killer smile. “Greetings,” he said, his tenor voice melting some of Flynn’s irritation. “Is it good?” he asked, gesturing to the gourd Flynn held.
Flynn shrugged. “I’ve had better.”
Amaro snarled into his soup.
“But the first course was amaz
ing, wasn’t it, Amaro?”
“First foods? I don’t understand,” Koda said, taking a seat beside his friend. Amaro handed him the gourd when he’d finished and Koda scooped a bowl for himself.
“The thing you eat that prepares you for dinner. The appetizer?”
When Koda continued to look at him perplexed, Flynn tried again. “The sex was a nice warm up to dinner. Amaro’s a little stiff on the romance, but he’s a pretty good kisser.”
Amaro leapt to his feet. “Enough!”
Flynn leveled him with a look of bored tolerance. “You could work on your technique, though. Just a friendly suggestion.”
Koda’s gaze met Flynn’s with intensity. “You and Amaro pressed mouths?”
He didn’t know why the answer to that was so important, unless, of course, Amaro wasn’t out to his buddy. He had no doubt that Koda was into men. He’d seen him check out Amaro’s ass, and take interest in Flynn’s cock. Didn’t Koda know that Amaro liked to play for their team?
Amaro glared at Flynn warningly.
“Yeah, we pressed mouths.”
“Lies!” Amaro insisted.
“Are you two a couple? You aren’t going to get all jealous and pissed off at me for some lover’s triangle are you?”
Koda’s eyes widened sharply. “Tahila?” He shook his head vigorously no. “Wicasa itan.”
Wicasa, man. Itan, proud. Huh, he thought. “You can be a wicasa itan and still be a lover of another wicasa itan.”
Koda cocked his head thoughtfully. “Do the gods tell you this?”
“Sure. Yeah. That’s how I know,” Flynn said, rolling his head back on his shoulders. “Those kooky gods, they’re just full of contradictory information. Me and the gods, we’re like this,” he said crossing his fingers and holding them up.
He knew they hadn’t understood him fully.
“Listen, Amaro, we both know you jacked me off and shot your proud man juice all over me when I kissed you.”
Amaro roared with indignation. “See that he rests. We have three days,” he snarled as he stormed out of the cave.
Flynn blinked at Koda. Koda’s eyes were wide with uncertainty and more than a little bit of respect. Flynn kind of liked that look on him. “So…”
