Date: Sat, 28 Apr 2007 13:58:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: Daniel Miller <ateanis@yahoo.com>
Subject: the barbarian and the boy, ch 2

This is a fictional story. The characters and events described herein are
fictitious.  The story and its contents are the sole property of the
author.  It has been posted on the Nifty Story Archives page with the
permission of the author.  If you are offended by sex or sexual acts
between two consenting males, or by a relationship between an older man and
a significantly younger one please do not read any further.  For the rest
of you who don't need this read on and enjoy.  Let me know what you think.

Copyright 2006

Chapter II


	Warm. Oh gods how warm.  Where was this coming from?  Through a
haze of fog his thoughts came to him.  But he was unsure of where he was.
The first thing he was aware of though, was the warmth.  Just at the
boundary of his senses, it was like the sky just before sunrise, where you
can watch the leading edge of heat and light rise up from the shadows of
the night.

	Besides the warmth, there was a tightness too.  A tight, soft,
sensation unlike any he had here to fore experienced.

	Then he heard breathing, someone else's breathing.  In a wave of
panic and instinct sharpened by years of fighting skill he swam up from the
depths of slumber.

	Kreshtar opened first one eye, then the other.  The sun was up was
the first observation he made.  That was not a good sign.  Kreshtar almost
always awoke with the dawn.  Judging by the light in the sky it was about
one or two hours past sunrise.

	All around the sounds of the forest were in full swing.  That
reassured him a little.

	Strangely the weight on top of him was one of the last things he
noticed.  He looked down his torso to see a bush of light bark-colored hair
attached to a head resting on his chest, attached to a body that was
breathing slowly and evenly.

	The events of the day prior came flooding back to Kreshtar in a
tidal wave.  The battle, the defeat, the flight away, the boy.  Yes, the
boy.  No, he wasn't a boy, not really; he was a man.  Young, indeed, just
coming into his manhood, certainly, but a man nonetheless.

	Kreshtar examined his situation.  He hoped his startling awake had
not disturbed the young man, it was long since time that they should both
be awake, however he wanted to savor this moment.  This young man
slumbering on top of him stirred something deep within himself.  Not just
what he felt last night at the hight of their coupling, although that
certainly was there and a part of what he felt.  But it was more a
calmness, a quiet stillness where the rest of the world washed away.  It
was a small respite from the violence, bloodshed and pain that he had known
all his life.  It had been all he had known, he had never even thought that
life could be different, at least for him.

	They were both still naked, their hide loincloths lying near by,
Kreshtar's fur cloak still wrapped around them as a makeshift blanket.
Tristan still lay on top of Kreshtar, his legs still spread across
Kreshtar's torso.  Kreshtar's manhood, partially erect, was still firmly
lodged in Tristan's hole.  The fat and grease from the rabbit bones, not
the best lubricant to begin with, had dried overnight.  Kreshtar was
certain that there would be some pain for both of them when it came time to
extricate himself.

	Kreshtar cast his eyes about, seeing the remains of their cooking
fire and their small pile of belongings just a few feet away.  Seeing that
there was no immediate concern, Kreshtar heaved a heavy, contented sigh.

	He was somewhat startled when an answering sigh came from the body
on top of him.  Tristan's mouth cracked open in a wide, face-splitting
yawn.  He looked up at Kreshtar with a smile that was part coy, part
satisfaction, part wicked knowing, and all adoration.  Kreshtar didn't have
a snowball's chance in hell.

	"Good morning."  Tristan said, far less drowsy than he had any
right to be in Kreshtar's opinion.

	"Morning."  Kreshtar grunted, a low, deep, rumble in his chest that
sent an echoing shiver through Tristan's body. Kreshtar found it difficult
to speak; his tongue felt thick and his throat felt inexplicably dry.
Gods, was this what happened to every man who became so enamored?  "Did I
wake you?"

	"Un-uh."  Tristan shook his head.  "I've been awake for about half
an hour or so.  But I didn't want to wake you up."  He smiled up at
Kreshtar, somehow managing to look both innocent and shy, and yet wicked
and knowing at the same time.  It was a look that drove Kreshtar nearly
blind with lust.

	"Well you should have," Kreshtar grumbled, trying to sound gruff
but not quite succeeding.  He also neglected to mention the fact that he
had just wanted to do the same thing.  "We need to get moving.  We're not
out of the woods yet, so to speak."

	"We'll have to separate ourselves for that.  I think it's gonna
hurt a bit."  Tristan admitted apprehensively.

	"I'll try to be gentle."  Kreshtar tried to reassure Tristan, but
he had no idea how he was supposed to be gentle about it.

	"On the count of five?"  Tristan asked.

	"Sure."  Kreshtar agreed, "One, two,..."

	Tristan pulled himself off Kreshtar's manhood suddenly.  It sounded
almost as bad as it hurt.  Tristan and Kreshtar both let out a cry as
Tristan collapsed back onto Kreshtar.  The thought occurred to Tristan that
he may very well be bleeding but he didn't know another way they could have
separated themselves.

	"Son of a healer alright."  Kreshtar growled through gritted teeth
in between gasps for breath.  He was almost certain that he lost bits of
skin on his most tender area.  But he wasn't sure what else they could have
done.

	They both lay there, catching their breath for a few minutes,
silence building between them.

	"So," Tristan started, "where will you head now?"

	Kreshtar had an idea where this was headed.  Tristan had nowhere to
go, his village destroyed, mother dead, as well as most if not all of those
close to him.  He had nowhere and no one.  Kreshtar's heart went out to
Tristan, and again the fierce feeling of protectiveness welled up inside
him.

	"Well," Kreshtar considered, weighing his options, "I figure that
I, at the very least need to lay low for a while.  I'm probably going to
head farther south, deeper into their country where they least expect to
see me.  You,... you're more than welcome to come with me.  Considering all
that's happened it might be wise for you to disappear our out of sight as
well."  Kreshtar tried not to sway the young man's decision either way, if
the boy was going to do this then it had to be his decision.

	"You mean," Tristan looked up hopefully, " you'll let me go with
you?"

	"If you want to."  Kreshtar looked down at the boy lying in his
arms.  He swore that his heart had stopped beating and that all creation
and the gods themselves took a breath.

	"Yes!"  Tristan exclaimed, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

	With that the two untangled themselves, collecting their loincloths
from where they had hastily been discarded.  Kreshtar replaced his fur
cloak and his pouch, hunting knife and sword.  Tristan watched while
Kreshtar replaced his various things, having only the loincloth to
retrieve.

	"Here," Kreshtar pulled out two strips of dried meat and handed one
to Tristan, "this should tide you over till we can find something more
substantial along the way."

	Tristan took the proffered ration and began chewing as they both
pointed their boots southward.

	Kreshtar set a brisk pace.  Slower than what he might normally do
but he was unsure of Tristan's ability to keep up and he was still fatigued
from the battle the day prior.  For now it would do but they both still
needed to keep moving.

	About mid afternoon they came to a sizable river.  It bent directly
across their path a ways then turned to bear southwest.  It ran swift and
sure in the direction of the sea, gathering more strength as it went along.
The point at which it crossed their path was a good hundred feet across.
It was relatively calm, but Kreshtar knew that that did not necessarily
mean a thing.

	Kreshtar removed his sword, his fur cloak and the small pouch at
his side.  He rolled them all into a bundle and handed them to Tristan.

	"Try not to get them too wet."  He motioned for Tristan to follow
and started out into the river.  At about fifteen feet out the water got to
be waist high.

	"Alright, up on my back and I'll swim across."

	"I can swim too you know."  Tristan retorted, a little irritated at
the treatment.

	"Never entered my mind that you couldn't."  Kreshtar responded, "I
just want to keep the flint and steel and the few strips of jerky that are
in my pouch dry.  And if you're on my back the sword just gets in the way"

	"Oh."  Tristan chirped sheepishly.  He gave Kreshtar a goofy grin
left over from boyhood and obediently climbed up on Kreshtar's broad back,
wrapping one arm around Kreshtar's thick neck while the other kept the
bundle and the sword out of the water.

	Kreshtar dove forward.  The river's current was strong, but
Kreshtar used it to his advantage angling his stroke to cross the river at
a diagonal.  In no time they were across.

	"Well," Kreshtar deliberated after retrieving his things from
Tristan, "this looks like a good spot to make camp for the night.  The
river puts a nice barrier between us and our pursuers.  Think you can make
another fire for us while it's still light?"  Kreshtar turned to Tristan
drawing out the flint and steel.

	"Of course!"  Tristan replied with a laugh that was almost a bark.
Kreshtar gave him an encouraging smile and deposited his things at the base
of a tree.  Again taking only his belt knife with him.

	His hunt went better this time, if it took longer.  He had come
across a wild sow rooting around for early spring roots.  There would be
enough meat to feed him and Tristan for at least two or three days.

	By the time he made his way back it was only an hour or two till
sundown, the westering sun making long shadows across his path.

	When he got back Tristan had a roaring blaze going with a small
stockpile of dry limbs.  No small feat for early spring.  Also close by
were a couple of wild onions, some fresh mushrooms, and a few potatoes.
All of them were small; they had not had the time to ripen, but nonetheless
had been picked for roasting on the fire.

	A spit was also set over the fire with two decent sized salmon
cooking over the flames.  Again, the fire was a good size, but sheltered to
best advantage so as not to attract unwanted attention.

	Beyond the homey campsite at the river's edge Tristan was bet over
something.  Kreshtar stood almost dumbfounded.  It certainly seemed that
Tristan knew how to take care of himself.

	At length Tristan finished his task and turned to come back to the
campsite.  Kreshtar could see that Tristan carried his freshly cleaned
sword in both hands.  He stopped short of Kreshtar and the sow.

	"My, my!"  He exclaimed, "You certainly had some luck!"

	"As did you I see."  Kreshtar nodded to the small pile of
vegetables and the fish.  Tristan grinned that sheepish grin of his and
returned Kreshtar's sword to its scabbard.  Kreshtar also noticed that his
water skin had been refilled as well.  The young man had thought of
everything.

	"Alright then layabout," Kreshtar said gruffly, "make yourself
useful for a change and prepare another spit sturdy enough to hold this.
We can cut the vegetables up and stuff them in its stomach after I gut it."

	"Perfect, the fish should be ready by the time you're done with the
pig."

	Kreshtar began gutting the pig while Tristan set about constructing
another spit out of more branches.  Tristan finished well before Kreshtar
and decided that he needed to get clean.  He removed his loincloth and
boots and walked to the river.

	Kreshtar looked up from his bloody task to see Tristan walk into
the water.  The rays of the setting sun sparkled off the ebb and flow of
the water and, despite the fact he was still covered with dirt and grime
(their momentary swim this afternoon had done little to improve that
particular state of things), Tristan's skin glowed.  The young man looked
like he might melt with the last rays of the sun.  The lines of his body
flowed smoothly and flawlessly from thigh to shoulder.  His form still had
an unfinished quality to it, like a sculptor who had not quite finished his
work, but for some reason rather than diminish the quality of his
appearance, it enhanced it.  The boy was just beginning to attain the sharp
lines and hard edges of manhood, that which was his birthright and the
birthright of all men born.  His shoulders widening, and becoming broader.
His chest starting to fill out and become round.  His stomach beginning to
form little ridges, not readily apparent, but there nonetheless.  His legs
were more lithe than thick, but Kreshtar could still see the tight muscles
underneath the skin.  The boy was no stranger to long treks it seemed.
Kreshtar watched transfixed as Tristan washed himself in the river, the
setting sun catching the drops of water and turning them into jewels for an
instant.  In that moment he could not think of a more beautiful, more
perfect sight in all of existence.

	Kreshtar finished with the pig by the time Tristan was done
bathing, the sun sinking below the horizon.  Kreshtar went down to the
river after having disposed of the innards and washed the blood and viscera
off his hands.

	They both ate the fish in silence.  Kreshtar was still amazed.
This young man surprised him in every way.  Self-sufficient, well versed in
his craft and...other things, and despite what this young man had been
through he still managed to smile and laugh.  Kreshtar had seen full-grown
men, battle hardened and stone hearted when it came to warfare, break after
having to watch friends and loved ones butchered and worse and being
powerless to stop it.  It's one thing to be able to kill a man in battle
and quite another to have everything you love and hold dear destroyed
before you very eyes.  Yes indeed, there was strength of will and force of
personality to be reckoned with inside this young man.  And it seemed that
Kreshtar had the irreplaceable opportunity to see it develop, and quite
possibly the singular honor in having a hand in shaping it, if he was
lucky.  Tristan looked up from his fish and noticed Kreshtar staring at
him.

	" What?"  He asked smiling.  "Do I have something on my face?"

	"Yes," Kreshtar answered, suddenly getting an idea, "as a matter of
fact you do.  Here," he added hastily, stopping Tristan's hand as it came
up to his own face to brush whatever it was off, "let me get that for you."

	Kreshtar moved closer to Tristan, kneeling, and looking directly
into his eyes brought their mouths together.  At first it was just a press
of lips, if it could be called 'just' that.  Soft and silken with a faint,
sweet taste to them.  Kreshtar hungered for more.  Opening his mouth
Kreshtar ran his tongue over those lips, tasting, feeling the sooth
texture.  Tristan opened his mouth willingly to Kreshtar's tongue, meeting
it with his own.  Kreshtar fed eagerly at Tristan's mouth, exploring it
with his tongue, running it over Tristan's teeth and his own tongue.
Tristan gave a helpless moan that Kreshtar answered with a deep-chested
groan.

	Kreshtar could not stand it any longer.  He wanted to feel
Tristan's body against his own.  Suddenly breaking off the kiss Kreshtar
pulled Tristan almost violently into his lap, forcing the younger man to
spread his legs around Kreshtar's thick, muscled torso.  Kreshtar wrapped
his arms around Tristan, one hand pressing Tristan's torso against his beep
chest, kneading the young muscles of Tristan's back.  The other going into
the thick, light bark-colored hair, tangling itself in the locks and
pressing Tristan's mouth back to his own.

	Tristan wrapped his arms around Kreshtar's thick neck, lost and
consumed by the sudden flare of passion.  He ran his arms and hands across
Kreshtar's broad shoulders, feeling the rippling cords of muscle just
barely contained within the skin.  Tristan ran his hands down Kreshtar's
arms gripping them hard, now caressing them almost delicately, reveling in
the sensation of the tight sinews moving as Kreshtar kneaded his back
almost hard enough to bruise.

	By this point Kreshtar's manhood stood at nigh almost painfully
rigid attention, pressed between his torso and Tristan's own answering
hardness.  Tristan started undulating his hips, rubbing the two shafts
together.  Kreshtar let out a low groan that was part growl.  His hands
moved down and fumbled at the clasp of Tristan's loincloth.  Tristan
reached down and undid it in one smooth motion, then lifted himself up to
allow Kreshtar to do the same.  Kreshtar hurriedly undid his own and tossed
it next to Tristan's.

	Oh gods!  The warmth of Tristan's body and his manhood against
Kreshtar's own was almost enough to bring him to the cusp again.

	Kreshtar moved on from Tristan's mouth licking, sucking and gently
biting the line of his throat and jaw.  Tristan's skin tasted like fresh
water with just a hint of salt beneath.  Tristan was making low helpless
noises, breathy moans and deep, heavy sighs, his breath was coming in gasps
and pants.  Tristan arched his back as Kreshtar moved his mouth lower onto
Tristan's chest.  Kreshtar was mimicking the steps that had been performed
on himself by Tristan the night prior.  The boy might be more experienced
in this area than Kreshtar, but he would soon find out that Kreshtar would
be an avid and apt pupil in regards to this.  Kreshtar' licked around the
edge of Tristan's nipple, eliciting a low exhale from him.  Then Kreshtar
flicked his tongue across it.  He ran the full length of his tongue against
the nipple, relishing the feel as Tristan's nipple hardened in resounding
answer to Kreshtar's ministrations.  Kreshtar put his mouth full on the
nipple, sucking as much of it as he could into his hungry mouth.  Tristan
let out a high pitched moan, throwing his head back and arching his back
farther as Kreshtar bit down gently at first, then with more pressure as
his confidence grew.  Then he moved on to the other nipple with ardent
enthusiasm, he had to circle one arm around Tristan's waist to help support
the boy, then decided against it.  He let them both fall to the ground next
to the fire, Kreshtar's body pinning Tristan beneath him.

	Kreshtar moved yet lower to Tristan's stomach biting and licking.
He grew bolder, remembering what the boy had done to him the night before,
at what seemed the start of his new life.  He moved lower still on the
young man and came to Tristan's own glorious manhood.  Far from the monster
Kreshtar possessed, Tristan's endowments were by no means small.  The boy's
manhood was about as thick as a stout walking staff and about a hand and a
half in length, veined and throbbing with the enthusiasm of youth.  The
globes beneath the hard shaft were, again, by no means the wrinkled,
walnut-sized balls that Kreshtar had, but he guessed them to be about
three-quarters the size of his own.

	Kreshtar looked Tristan over.  He was youth in all its perfection.
His arms, legs and torso losing the lankiness of boyhood and taking on the
thickness of a man.  His body, in many ways and one in particular,
hardening into manhood.  The light speckling of hair, the mantle, and his
sex, the crowning glory of it all.  Kreshtar took it all in , his eyes
filling with a hunger and a heat that he had never before known was in him.
Tristan answered that look with a heat and hunger all his own.

	Without taking his eyes from Tristan's Kreshtar lowered his face to
the throbbing spear in front of him.  He let his lips run over it, iron
swathed in silk.  Kreshtar moved down to the fleshy sack that held
Tristan's balls.  Where as Kreshtar's always seemed to hang down loose
Tristan's usually seemed to be drawn up tight against his body.  Kreshtar
ran the full length of his tongue across Tristan's balls, one jumping in
time with Tristan's sharp gasp.  Kreshtar took one into his mouth, sucking
on it, rubbing his tongue against it, gently grazing it with his teeth.
Tristan threw his head from side-to-side, tangling his fingers in
Kreshtar's hair.  Kreshtar did the same with the other round globe,
reaching up and pinching Tristan's nipples as well.  Tristan was almost
hyperventilating from the sheer blind pleasure.

	Finally Kreshtar move on, hesitating for a moment, recalling what
had been done to him.  He took the tip of his tongue and licked a slow,
maddening line from the back of Tristan's nuts all the way up his quivering
spear.  He flicked his tongue inside the foreskin, now stretched tight
around the head, tasting the juices underneath the skin, salty and tangy
and delicious.  Kreshtar wrapped his lips around the head of Tristan's sex,
sucking and circling his tongue all around it.  He slowly made his way
downward, inch-by-inch.  When he got about half way down Kreshtar started
to gag.

	"Easy, easy."  Tristan coached.  "It's going to take a lot of
practice before you can take it down all the way.  Be sure you relax your
throat and breath through your nose.  If you start to gag come up for a
breath to steady yourself."

	  "Practice you say, huh?"  Kreshtar repeated back, taking
Tristan's advice and coming up for air.  "Well as long as you're around
I'll be sure to practice every day."  Mimicking the wicked grin that he had
seen on Tristan so often.  Tristan gave a throaty laugh, deed and husky,
that turned into a loud moan as Kreshtar dove right back down.  Taking
Tristan's advice he made it about three-quarters of the way down before he
felt he could get no more.  Kreshtar wrapped his lips around the shaft and
began working the length of hardness in his mouth.

	Tristan had had just about all he could take he was so very close
and did not want the nights activities to be over.  He tapped Kreshtar on
the side of the head.  Kreshtar came up and looked at him questioningly.

	"Time to try something a little different."  He gestured for
Kreshtar to lay on his side.  "We don't really have anything to make things
glide easily inside tonight, and I'm not sure about you but I certainly
don't want a repeat of this morning."  Kreshtar affirmed his agreement with
a grunt.

	Tristan stood up and positioned himself so that the front of his
body was the exact reverse of Kreshtar's, putting the monstrous shaft
directly in front of Tristan's face and his own in front of Kreshtar's.
Tristan marveled again at the sheer size of it, almost as thick as his
forearm and at least as long, about a good two hand lengths.  By far the
largest that Tristan had ever seen.  Tristan began to work it over and
Kreshtar soon caught on and caught up.

	Tristan ran the tips of his fingers along the length of it, gently,
delicately, no more than a soft breath of sensation which elicited an easy
sigh from Kreshtar, who relished the touch of those knowledgeable fingers.
As amazing as the spear and nuts splayed out before him were Tristan's
attentions were not solely on them.  The entire body of this man fascinated
him.  Kreshtar's stomach was a landscape of plains and fine grasses, rising
and falling in gentle measure, the chords of muscle forming a pleasing
pattern of squares.  Tristan ran a light caress over the tight tanned skin
and ever so fine covering of hair, lost in the texture.

	Without warning Tristan brought his hand back down to Kreshtar's
shaft, grabbed it and twisted it to the side, not violently, but enough
that Kreshtar felt a thrill that was not quite pain and so much pleasure
and made him gasp for breath.

	Well, he thought, two can play at this game.  Kreshtar took
Tristan's sizable endowment and, gently at first but with more and more
confidence when Tristan didn't object, he twisted it hard off to the side.
Tristan gave an easy satisfied moan as he watched Kreshtar pick up the
steps of this dance.  Tristan had never thought to teach a man of
Kreshtar's age the joys of his own body and that of another man's.  He
found, however, that the process and experience was quite satisfying
indeed.  In fact Tristan had a feeling that there were going to be a great
many things that he was going to enjoy teaching to Kreshtar, and perhaps a
few they might just discover together.

	Tristan began to work on Kreshtar's shaft as Kreshtar started to
work on Tristan's.  Tristan teased the thick, veiny rod with his tongue,
running the tip down the length and pressing at the individual veins
running up it.  He ran his tongue around the head above the ample foreskin,
teasing it, then sticking his tongue inside it and licking the slit and
underneath.  He nibbled on the foreskin, gently grazing and pulling on it
with his teeth.

	Kreshtar had begun following the boy's lead up to this point but
the need in his body was growing desperate.  Kreshtar parted his lips and
took the head of Tristan's sex into his mouth.  He sucked on the head
giving it broad strokes with his tongue.  He wrapped his fingers around the
shaft and pulled the skin back.  Tristan's spear was oozing juices and
Kreshtar drank them down, an intoxicating nectar better than the finest
wines and sharper than the best ales he had ever tasted.

	Tristan started making helpless noises again and decided it was
time to progress things along.  He began lubricating the length of
Kreshtar's shaft, giving it long, heavy strokes with his tongue.  Then he
slid it through his lips till it hit the back of his throat, about a third
of the way down.  Again Tristan marveled, he had some talent and repute in
this particular activity but he had never come across a man of Kreshtar's
dimensions.  The only remedy to the problem he could think of was practice,
lots and lots of practice.  He relaxed his throat and got another third of
the spear down and knew that presently he could take no more.  He began
massaging the exposed base with his hand and the rest with his throat.
Kreshtar let out a low groan from deep in his chest.  The sound vibrated
against Tristan's manhood, which Kreshtar began taking in more and more of,
the feel drove Tristan nearly over the edge.  He now worked with an urgent
fervor and desperation, sucking up and down the length of Kreshtar's
manhood.  Kreshtar moved to keep pace with Tristan, again taking the young
man's earlier advice and relaxing his throat, taking in as much of
Tristan's hardness as he could.

	Tristan was close, so very close.  Oh goddess yes!  Tristan let out
a sound that would have been a cry had his mouth been clear.  His body
convulsed with the force of his orgasm, his sex spewing his seed down
Kreshtar's throat.  Kreshtar gagged and tried to swallow to keep from
choking.  He only made it a moment or two more before he had to pull off,
Tristan's manhood still in the last throws of his orgasm.  Throughout his
climax though Tristan had not stopped his attentions on Kreshtar's spear.

	Kreshtar let out a loud grunt that turned into a yell as he
experienced his nuts emptying for the second time in his life.  Tristan,
being more experienced, was able to hold on for longer, but even he finally
had to back off as Kreshtar's climax came to a close.

	Tristan laid his head down on Kreshtar's thigh and noticed that
some of Kreshtar's seed had gotten on his face.  He turned his head to look
up the length of Kreshtar's body and saw that Kreshtar was in a similar
state.  Tristan moved back up to Kreshtar's head and proceeded to lick off
the stray trails of seed.  Timidly at first, Kreshtar did the same, then
with building gusto as he found the salty, thick, bittersweet taste to be
oddly enjoyable.

	Tristan finally sank down into the warmth of Kreshtar's arms.  No
words passed between them, only contented silence, the crackle of dying
embers and the hiss of pig fat dripping on them came to both their ears.
Kreshtar wrapped the fur cloak around them both and they both drifted off
to sleep.


End Chapter II