Date: Thu, 9 Jan 2003 10:21:43 +0100
From: Darragh Clarke <darraghclarke@care2.com>
Subject: Traitors Chapter 2

Traitors by Carrie Ulyssiah Holzner

Copyright (c) 2002 by C. Holzner. No part of this story may be copied,
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written
permission of its author. The author holds all rights.

The quoted song is "Beloved" written by Ronan Harris and performed by him
and Mark Jackson

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Since the author is unable handle online things herself (due to disease)
this story was typed and posted with the author's permission by Darragh
N. Clarke (Darraghclarke@yahoo.ie)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Comments and constructive criticism about this story are welcome and
appreciated, please send them to ulyssiah@care2.com. Please note that this
account is intended for comments etc only, and hence more or less a kind of
"guestbook" collecting the mails received. (It is maintained by me and all
received mails will be printed out and passed on to the author.  DNC)

Before we go on, the "5 commandments" (LOL) of reading on:

1. The following story contains sexually explicit scenes between MALES, so
now that you are aware of that..

2. Please DO NOT read on in case this kind of material is not legal where
you live

3. Please DO NOT read on in case this kind of material is not legal to read
for someone of YOUR AGE in your jurisdiction (if you are not sure what is
the legal age where you live, then www.ageofconsent.com may help you on)

4. Please DO NOT read on in case this kind of material offends you in any
way (though I wonder what you're doing at nifty then.)

5. Please note that this story is FICTION, that means it was invented by
the author and any resemblance with any person dead or alive is purely
coincidental.


PREFACE by the author ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What you are about to read is Science Fiction and does not necessarily go
conform with my own views. Though it plays in times of war and extinction
this may NOT be understood as pro war or pro discrimination. It's intended
- and I hope I managed to show at least a bit of this intention - to be the
opposite ANTI-WAR and ANTI-DISCRIMINATION.

The setting and system were only chosen to show what blindness for our
surroundings can result in. Also this story does not, as it may be taken by
some people, promote anything like sexual unions with other than the human
- of our definition - mammal, in fact you will find that the person I'm
talking about (read on and find out) is much more of a human being than it
seems at first - he's just the result of what happens if science
experiments with genes.

~~

The responses to chapter 1 - thanks everyone, I really appreciate it! -
showed a little confusion about the main character's name "Iarlath".  This
is a male Irish one, and like mentioned in ch. 1, it was the name of the
patron Saint of Tuam, Ireland. "Iarlath" (The "I" spoken like "J") itself
is an anglicised version, the Irish original is "Iarla" (said "Earla").
You'll probably come across a couple of strange names - also Beakanidian
ones, which are mostly invented - as the story goes along, so sue me.

Also some the responses remarked that this story was placed in the
"bisexual" section of the archive. I don't know why this happened,
everyone. Perhaps the archivists were as confused about Iarlath's (or
Darnna's) name as you, so don't blame them.

No more flames to me by those who wondered about when the third main
character will be introduced, either, please. Iarlath and Darnna are both
MALES and I thought that it was clear after Ch. 1, because an early quote
of Iarlath's father already mentions that

- - "Will you go up to the chamber and stay with the boy [ refers to
Darnna]? Your grandmother and I have made to bathe him - gently, he seems
seriously hurt -, and now, Myol will be in in some minutes and I think he
would like you to assist.  Also the boy will most likely prefer a male
[refers to Iarlath] being with him than a lady. That poor one, he's a good
lad." --

so there won't be any female sexually involved in this. The story is placed
in the wrong section, not mea culpa, and the archivists are only human as
well, so I guess things can happen.

   Carrie Ulyssiah


Traitors

Ch. 2 ''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

I wasn't much fun to have breakfast with. The night had been endless.
Either I was awake and looked after Darnna or I made a troubled nap, also
thinking of Darnna. If I hadn't been comfortable with my sexuality, he had
been a reason to beginn claimimg it as gay. Needless to say after such a
statement, I had had quite a wet night, because in my sleeping hours I
either had him in front of my inner eye naked beneath me with my cock up
inside him or the other way around.  I must admit I like both parts, top
and bottom.

However, I was very quiet while I ate. I fear I might say one wrong word
and everyone knew about my fantasies. I knew they weren't fair, considering
Darnna's state perhaps even perverted. When I returned to my room I heard a
faint voice sing.

"He's been singing that for the whole past hour," Christian, being seated
on the edge of his bed, said. He was Myol's son and had taken over the
responsibility of a swift morning check- up. I admired him, he was no older
than us and already so astute.  After all there were times in history when
at age 16/17/18 you were just starting college or something.

"That's English," I recognised the language. I was able to recognise and
distinguish languages quite well, but I could not understand them.

"Right. Listen out carefully!" Christian said. He was not only wise,
responsible and smart, he was also handsome. We weren't as close then as we
had been a couple of years before, but that was my fault. I had
intentionally decided for distance because my secret dream then was to pull
him under one of our ultra Vs - like showers just with ultrasound rays
instead of water - tear off his then wet clothes and suck him off. But I
knew he was not interested in the male sex, so I gave up all hopes at
once. Though sometimes I still dreamt that he could want me as well.

"It's colder than before/The seasons took all they have come for/Now winter
dances here/It seems so fitting, don't you think, to dress the ground in
white and grey/ It's so quiet I can hear my thoughts touching every second
that I spent waiting for you"

There I stopped listening. I didn't understand the words, but I knew it was
a sad song.

"He's grieving," Christian said empathically. "So much I don't even know if
he knows we're with him."

I looked at Darnna. He lay motionlessly with his head turned to the left
and his eyes fixed on the wall.

"My beloved do you know/When the warm wind comes again another year will
start to pass?/Please don't ask me why I'm here/Something deeper brought me
than a need to remember"

I reached out and touched his hand.

He seemed startled. "What? Oh, Iarlath, I'm so sorry."

"Shh, hush! It's fine, if it's me you can sing all day. I just wondered
whether you were okay.  It's fine, really."

He sniffled. "No, it's deeper. You don't understand. Better leave me to
it."

I tried a smile. "Alright, if you think so. For NOW. But whenever you feel
the need to talk I'm there."

"I guess." What strange kind of reply was that?

Christian seemed more clued in than me, so I questioned him in a whisper
once Darnna had started singing again.

Christian shook his head. "I don't know anything, but I guess" he stressed
the last word "that this is not for his family. The good one seems to have
lost his lovely as well."

Darnna's lovely! Could he have had a girl or perhaps BOY at home? He surely
could. I remembered how he had lain with his head on my chest yesterday
morning after his request.  At first he said the heartbeat frightened him,
but after he got used to it he considered it reassuring. After an hour or
so of listening he even said it reminded him of someone he used to be close
to. His lovely?! I selfishly remembered the closeness and warmth I felt
when he'd lain there and how much I had wanted to pull him close and hold
him tight as mine. But he wasn't 'mine', I had to face that. Some tiny
voice in my head flatly stated 'Gonna make you'.  "How did you get that
idea?" I questioned Christian.

"Are you jealous, Iarl?" I swear I didn't let my feelings on!

"What can I do?" That was my problem when I had a crush. I always said the
wrong things at the wrong time and by this let my guard down, so that I was
easy to see through. I remembered Maurice. They still say that Frenchmen
are exceptional lovers. Me, by that time non-outed, curious and horny
wanted to test that. He wasn't overly beautiful but I lead him on
nevertheless. He was no easy prey, being outed but not respected for that
in his ranks he was careful to keep closed. He was dangerous, too, after
all one wrong move could out me.  Homosexuality is not condemned anymore as
such, but it is just that you don't live sexuality freely these days
(whoever invented that must have been stupid). But in the end I got him and
by that time I could say that for sure, he was so willing that right the
first time in bed I got him to fuck me without great preparation. That
doesn't mean we were unsafe, but no foreplay or past time or
anything. Curiosity had gotten the better of me and so all we did was to
open our pants, lube up and then make me feel the best thing I had
experienced in the 16 years by then. He was darn hot and hard. And he
pounded quickly. His moans were what I imagined must have been an animal's.
Mine were too. It was over after mere seconds. Dumb as I was I let that
slip in a conversation with my mother the next day. Pushing that memory
aside - meanwhile I had had much better and more satisfying sex - I had to
think of Darnna.  He wouldn't be a quick thing or a 'hi and bye' like most of
the boys I'd had by now. He was the kind of person you could be devotional
to without regret. If I would ever be to have him he deserved a tender
experience, a candlelight projection or something.

"How about getting your act together?" Christian suggested. "My, he's
barely alive!"

I left at once. Christian, of course, was right. If I had any sense of
decency I shouldn't think like that.  "Decency" is a strange word, don't
you think? Some hundred or maybe fifty years ago my orientation had been
against "decency". I never liked girls. Not even as persons.  Instead I
always had a fascination for cocks. My family and most people we knew - and
we knew almost everyone due to our 'assignment' - were okay with me being
gay, after all there were a lot of gay and lesbian people these days. We
are not afraid to say that. I took a stroll through what we call
suburbia. Here it means the places were nobody lives. Somewhere I sat down
and just looked at my surroundings: steel, chrome, metal.  Perhaps copper,
too. Even our oxygen was artificial. Darnna's used to be real. Permeated by
nothing but itself, no chemistry, no industry.  Darnna... somehow the
idea that he could have had a partner of some sort made me feel upset. Not
because of the death, well, flies on the windscreen they used to say, but
because he wasn't mine. I wanted him. In the past 36 or so hours since I
saved him I had grown more than found of him. And it was not only the pride
I felt for what I had done! I, I, Iarlath, had saved a life. While it meant
nothing to me in the beginning, meanwhile it was strangely significant to
me.


My mind drifted off to a setting of candles, cosy blankets and a naked
Darnna lying beneath me. I traced his features from the nose, over his
collarbone, down to his chest with one of my fingers. I could see myself
lying half on top of and half beside him and my other hand clutched tightly
in his hair, while our tongues battled.  Darnna shivered when I parted his
legs with my hand. When I accidentally brushed against his cock I could
feel that he was pretty wet at the tip... and hot for he gasped already
at this simple un- intended touch. Our calves brushed and he shivered when
I adjusted my position so that I was between his legs and able to lift his
behind for my needs. For a last moment I thought that heaven was beckoning
now, before I guided myself into him. He gasped when I began to move.  I
began to pound quicker and was surprised that in response he wrapped his
legs around my pelvis, allowing me deeper entry. It was funny, the moment
that happened I knew I couldn't make it a long thing. A couple of long
strokes more took the better of me.


"Iarlath, Iarlath, have you seen Myol?" a voice got me back to reality. It
was my mother's.

I hurriedly looked up. "No."

"We need him, the boy... he keeps calling something none of us can
understand. Perhaps Myol can!"

That meant I had to go search. After all I was one of the few people who
actually knew about Darnna and my sister Sinead and my father were both
busy with other things at this time of day. I wondered what kind of word it
could be. Beakanidian for 'beloved' or 'darling'?  Even if, I really
couldn't be happy. I had fallen, I knew, and as always unluckily, I knew
that, too. Well, not as always as such, because once I'd fallen 'luckily':
Maurice.

~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time I went back my father was with Darnna and told me Myol had had
a look. His calls meant "I want my Asta!" And at a guess Darnna'd been
given something. It was a weird sight, he looked like dead, though I could
as well see some liveliness.

"Hello Iarlath," he said quietly.

I greeted back and nonchalantly went over to my drawer to do
something. Whatever something. I didn't want to share him and Asta was
supposed to be the one I had to share with, darn!

"What's wrong with you?" I heard after a while.

"Nothing, Darnna. I wouldn't know what."

"You've been cold today, unlike the way I know you. And I feel that it has
to do with me, what have I done? Is it my grieving, does it get on your
nerves?"

"Indeed." That was said faster than thought. I could have hit myself as I
realised that.

"I apologise, but... I miss him."

"Him?"

"Asta. He's a long while gone, died the way I had if you hadn't found me."

"Asta is a girl's name." Though with them probably not. Most Beakanidian
male names ended on '-a'.

"Not in our language. It means something like 'the dove', if we'd had doves
that is. But he was true to his name, you'd liked him I'm sure."

"Are you?"

"Yes. Iarlath, what is it?"

I wanted to turn around and shout into his face. Why couldn't I just say
he's mine? Why couldn't I say there had to be nobody else? I tried to sit
down in a quiet corner of the room and resume my earlier fantasy but the
mood wouldn't come. So Darnna was gay, too, and that was a point on the
score (I think I couldn`t have coped if he had had a girl) but... argh!
MINE, a voice in my head screamed, HE IS MINE!  Couldn't I tell him he was
a prisoner of war and hence had to be at my command in whichever way I
wanted? I couldn't, that was violence.  I began to wonder what Asta was
like. What had he looked like? If you had Darnna's looks you shouldn't sell
yourself cheap. But was Darnna capable of such thoughts at all? They say
the Malckqs aren't, while the Sedaqhps (those gifted with Scientic
knowledge) are. I closed my eyes and while I kept them shut I wanted to
feel his hair in my hands. I wanted to grab the curls he probably didn't
even know curls.  They don't use mirrors. And I wanted to grab these curls
while he grabbed something else of mine, I knew exactly what it was.

I was about to let myself go into a fantasy of me and this angelic beauty
under me again, when a sharp voice tore me out of my thoughts.  It was
Myol. "Didn't I say we need to avoid stressing him out? And you tell him he
upset you, he's rotten with guilt." That all came in a hushed voice.

"Didn't mean to."

"Get your hormones controlled!" Myol snapped.

I got up and went to sit at the edge of Darnna's bed.

Hey," I tried to smile but I didn't think I would manage. "What's up with
you? Myol was all worried about you, said it was-"

"I shouldn't be here, Iarlath. You are kind people, but I am causing
trouble. Perhaps not to your family, but to YOU in person. I have no right
to do that. I didn't know I would, but I did, by which means ever, whether
it was my grief - which I was not supposed to show - or my simple presence,
which does not seem logical for me without that grief."

In my head there was that song again. "...moments lost though time
remains..."

"At home they say your kind is capable of our feelings," he went
on. "Joy. Pain. Love. Grief. Anger. Fear. I supposed you were, but maybe
you are in a different way to us. Perhaps you don't know what grief feels
like. Do you know what grief IS?"

"I do. Bu-"

He interrupted me. "Do you consider ME to be able to know what it is?"

"I do and-"

"Do you consider YOURSELF able to suppress grief?"

"What do you want from me?!" I nearly shouted.

"Do you-"

"Darnna, what kind of game is this? Don't feck around with me, okay?  You
wanna hear I'm sorry? I can say this wholeheartedly, because I am. My
problem is you're grieving for someone I don't want you cling to!"

"As in?"

"He's dead and gone, okay?" I instantly became calmer as I stroked his
face. "I don't mean it a bad way. I just don't want you to wear ghosts,
okay?"

He pushed me away. Then I didn't know that in Beakanidian mythology a ghost
is something like a God and they are no spiritual people.  Spirits and
anything that considers themselves more worthy than their or any people at
all frighten them and what frightens a peaceful people is bad.

"Darnna, what is it?"

He was quiet for a long while and I think I saw a couple of tears in his
eyes. Then he said, "I wish to talk to your father."

"Why? There's nothing he can do for you that I can't."

"I want to ask for permission to go back outside."

I shook my head. "No. No. No. No. Under these circumstances there is no way
I get him to talk to you. And permission won't be granted
anyway. No. No. No."

"The dignity of men is untouchable!" he said. "The dignity of everything
else IS. The dignity of greed and stupidity is untouchable. The dignity of
the free will is!"

"Darnna," I put my hand on his cheek again. "Calm down, okay? Nobody here
means you any harm or ill will and I don't either. Try not to mind me
saying stupid things. I'm just a silly kid. It's not intended to hurt you."
I bent over and kissed his forehead. Never something had felt so good.

"Freaggle!" he tried to sound angry but it came out pretty weak.

"There you are! YOU know very well how to fit in here, ME doesn't know
anything about how to fit in anywhere else." 'Freaggle' was a slang word
for asshole after all.

"Doesn't make you right!"

"I know, but please don't be like that."

"Doesn't make you right, either!"

"Will you be stubborn?"

"Just trying to find out where I am at. And - I don't think you really
deserve the respect they say you deserve. To speak in my terms, you remind
me a lot of a Fallhkj - our artistic division -, and they are not very
nice-natured people. They are good-hearted, sure, but they are vain and
egoistic, sometimes misleading and malevolent. Some people say they are
beyond caring. I don't know. Who am I to judge?"

"So that's about how you see me?"

"About."

"I'm sorry."

"Who cares."

"I do. Because I want you to like me. Not because you feel forced to, but
because you just feel like it."

"IF I liked you, would it be of any significance to you?"

I nodded.

"But I don't."

Something inside me was torn. "Tough luck for me, huh?"

"Iarlath, don't do that. PLEASE. The problem is that I have a strong
feeling in which way you would like me to 'like' you, but that's not.  I am
with Asta."

"You said he's dead. At least we are not with dead people, you know?
Relationships end with death coming in."

"Loyalty does not."

"I know for you loyalty is purity, but here it's not and with mankind it's
never been... so forgive me, I shouldn't have said anything."

"The doctor says your problem are the hormones."

'Yeah' I thought, 'because I want to cover you and give a good shoot to
fill you up, honey.' "Sorta. Catch 22, you know? I know I should not think
that way, not even if you were not in anyway bound to someone or something,
but it's-"

"Sinead said it all. It's a few days, Iarlath, how can you come to find
someone attractive in such a short time? We, the Malckqs in particular,
need a lot of time to come to do that. And I am NOT attractive."

"To me you are," I said before I could consider it at all.

"Perhaps. But I think I am ugly. Asta, he was... eyes, you know, almost
violet. Beautiful eyes and black hair, very soft and thick. Long and
slender fingers, he even wore an Adisau, do you know what that is?"

I had never heard about that.

"It's kinda like being Mr. So-and-so in a beauty contest. We didn't have
that kind of thing, but if there are people with extraordinary looks they
get this, um, kinda like a bracelet that never gets off again. Not to cause
jealousy, though. It's very special, I was very proud he was mine."

"Oh."

"You have any idea what LOVE feels like? Not the kind of love you receive
from your parents."

"I do."

"Do you know, Asta and I we committed to each other. Beakanids don't marry,
but that's about the same thing. You know 'marriage' sooner or later leads
to betrayal, which is a bad thing, commitment is made
 from deeper emotions than that kind of love you would say you need to
marry."

"Oh. But that means you never again...ever?"

He shook his head.

"But you...are still so young..."

"18? We often die at 40-50. If we have a natural death that is. See it that
way, half my life is over."

I was slightly astonished that he was older than me. "But I mean if this
'commitment' means you'll be alone for the rest of your life...  I mean
people have needs..."

"I'm listening?" he questioned kinda daring.

"Darnna!"

"Iarlath! I know exactly what you want to say and what you wish me to
answer, but NO, I'll never do anything like that with anybody 'human'. No,
no, no. Never ever. So forget it. Never to come up again."

MINE, a voice in my head screamed. And I knew it would be that way one day,
despite his words. I became daring as wll. "What if you HAD to?"

"I'm sorry that it hurts me to laugh, but you intend to... Pah! Tell me,
what would you get from it?"

"What I want." Oops, that was a little too daring.

"You're so wonderfully open, Iarlath. But think it over. For a moment you'd
have what you want but then? You don't really do not want anymore from
me. And by the way, even if I had any means and chances to be
interested... you wouldn't get a minute of my time... I mean don't flatter
yourself. I don't like people like that."

"Your Asta, if he was THAT beautiful, didn't he do?"

Darnna shook his head. "Gimme something to drink and you'll getta hear some
secrets you can ponder. It's not me who'll kill you if you shout them out."
I had to keep his presence a secret after all. I went to get the drinks.

"Asta's beauty wasn't defined by his looks," he began in a pretty different
tone, "not even by the Adisau. He didn't look like everyone, blue-eyed
Malckqs are very seldom, and I thought he was beautiful. Nothing else
mattered. In fact there were people who said he did not deserve the Adisau,
though he did of course, because of his eyes. Asta's real beauty was
defined by a quality of his, he recognised liars with one simple look. To
me it didn't matter. It still doesn't. It never will."

"How long ago?"

"329 days today."

"Did he have any family left?"

"Two brothers, Marnia and Rura, and a sister Oliku. And the parents.  They
all were poisoned three days later. Iarlath, he only wanted to collect the
mail when he died." It was visible that he was about to cry. "Rura's
partner, and the children they had, twin boys of two years, all
poisoned. And, my, they were such sweethearts. I suppose you know what
little children can be like?!"

~~~~~~~~

Though I had been given a good lecture of "secrets you can ponder", which
were actually insights into the Beakanidian life during this war, I still
couldn't take my mind off him when I lay to rest that night. I had heard
enough cruelties to get nightmares and descriptions of deaths and bodies
that could top all halloween parties they had ever celebrated on earth in
vividity, but yet I somehow managed to get back to my former kinky thoughts
about Darnna.  I didn't even feel rediculous for fantasising about a
'married' man.  What mattered to me was the tongue I wantred to taste and
the skin I wanted to touch. The bliss I wanted to feel. When I closed my
eyes I was back to the picture: Darnna and me, me inside him and pounding
with a speed that I had actually thought too fast for his fragile
figure. The picture was torn by another: him and Asta (who of course I
couldn't really describe but had to use the picture in my mind), gently,
tenderly. Wrapped up in the warmth of a cosy place and playing with each
other. Nibbling and caressing. Laughing. Fingers tracing paths, hands
massaging cocks and tongues sucking flesh. This picture again was torn by a
single sentence: I want him! I wanted to place the butterfly kisses I saw
Asta place on his back. I wanted to lick off the sweat I saw Asta lick
off. I imagined what it would be like to do what he was doing next.

Being by myself - well, Darnna was in the room, but he lay with his face to
the wall and I assumed him asleep - I could finish what had already started
to happen. I never liked doing it to myself, that probably is why I don't
speak very positive about it. On the other hand I knew that as long as
Darnna was around I would be doing it a lot.


~~~~~~~~
To be continued...