Date: Sat, 3 May 2008 00:44:48 -0700 (PDT)
From: Daniel Miller <ateanis@yahoo.com>
Subject: the barbarian and the boy, ch. 9 (take two)

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. Any act of copying or plagiarism will be
prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.  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. Please do not read any further if you are under the age of 18 or
it is illegal for you to be viewing such material where you reside.  For
the rest of you who don't need this read on and enjoy.  Let me know what
you think.

Copyright 2006

Chapter 9


	"Here," Tristan declared almost reverently.  Kreshtar brought the
horses to a stop and cast his eyes about.  They had emerged from the woods
and undergrowth into a small open field.  It was dominated by a large pond,
almost a lake.  The grasses were wild and flowers of every color and
variety seemed to grow in equal measure and abundance.  The pond was fed
bay a small stream pouring down the side of the mountain they were on.  It
emptied on the far side of the field continuing its journey the rest of the
way down the slope.  Surrounding it all stood tall pine trees encircling
the open area, sheltering them from view.

	Yes, the spot was good.  Kreshtar had visited homes that had been
in secluded little nooks on mountainsides such as this before.  It was
always a hard life, but the inhabitants always seemed happy, if somewhat
nervous in his presence.  Certainly a man could very well lead a fulfilling
life here, couldn't he?

	Kreshtar dismounted and helped Tristan down as well, placing his
hands on the young man's hips and guiding him to the ground.  It wasn't
really necessary, Tristan knew enough about horses to mount and dismount on
his own.  It was simply an excuse to touch him, though Kreshtar really
didn't need one.  Kreshtar grabbed the reins in one hand and rested his arm
casually around Tristan's shoulders and they made their way over to the
water's edge to let the horses drink their fill.

	The climb up the mountainside had been relatively easy,
particularly on horse back.  They had only been riding half a day and had
stayed the night in a small town at the foot of the mountain, settled next
to the river that was no doubt fed by this pond and other such tributaries.
The river at the mountain's base was not quite large enough to support
travel and trade, that had been going on farther downstream, there was a
mill, powered by a water wheel and a smithy of credible size as well.  But
most importantly there had been an apothecary in residence.

	Tristan and Kreshtar had visited the man and had learned that,
while well versed in herbs and other things regarding his trade, the man
was only mediocre at healing.  He made no claims to being a great healer
either, simply stating that his knowledge primarily lay in other areas.
This had been what had prompted Tristan and Kreshtar to find a place to
make a more permanent residence.

	They had been traveling for weeks, verging on almost two full
months by the cycles of the moon.  Each day they had left at first light
and traveled almost till dusk.  They had stopped only to let the horses
rest and to eat sparingly.  The frustrating part of the journey though, at
least to Kreshtar's mind, had been the stitches.  Tristan had said that
they could tear if Kreshtar engaged in anything too rigorous, and the
process would have to be repeated all over.  So their intimacy had been
limited to simple physical contact and not much beyond.  When Kreshtar had
grumbled about this Tristan very firmly pointed out that most often times
patients weren't allowed to ride horse back or travel on foot.

	Kreshtar set about gathering fire wood while Tristan took a hoe
they had purchased in the town and started to clear a small patch of earth
close to the water.  The weather was mild verging on warm and soon Tristan
was sweating heavily.  He was rewarded though when he finished, he had
cleared a decent sized patch of earth with relative ease, the soil was rich
and not rocky.  This would be a good spot to grow herbs.  Kreshtar had
finished gathering wood enough for the evening's fire and had settled down
to watch Tristan.

	"You know," Kreshtar said idly, "I could very well grow accustomed
to having someone else work for me.  All these weeks of rest seem to have
agreed with me."

	Tristan gave Kreshtar a look that was eloquent, the big man
breaking into a fit of good natured laughter.

	"Speaking of which," Tristan changed the subject slightly, "let's
take a look at that wound."  he laid the hoe against a fallen log and knelt
next to Kreshtar.  Tristan carefully unwrapped the clean linen bandage and
cast a critical eye on the progress of the wound's healing.  After a few
moments of examining and prodding at the area Tristan finally made his
pronouncement.

	"Well, it would seem that these are ready to be removed.  You are
as good as new."

	"Well, well then," Kreshtar exclaimed eagerly, "let's be done with
it shall we?"

	"First," Tristan said with an air of authority, "the fire.
Afterwards we may remove them," and with that he set about to do so.

	The fire was quickly built and soon Tristan sat next to Kreshtar
and, using a small knife, began to systematically cut and pull the threads
from Kreshtar's flesh.  It was tedious work, and the process seemed
frustratingly slow to Kreshtar's mind, when in reality it was a relatively
simple procedure.  It was also disconcerting to feel the thread being
pulled out of his side.

	"There," Tristan declared, pulling the last stitch free and rubbing
just a small bit of ointment over the pinprick holes.  There was a fine
white line running across Kreshtar's side where the dagger had pierced and
sliced his skin.  But it was now one of many scars.  The man, given his
reputation, certainly had a collection of those.

	"That is all then?"  Kreshtar asked almost hesitantly.

	"You are released from my care," Tristan stated smiling, "hale and
healthy."

	"Good," was the only thing Kreshtar said.  The giant man lunged
suddenly from his seated position on the ground without warning and without
any signal.  It seemed inhuman that a man so large should be able to move
so quickly.  Tristan gave a startled cry as he was forced to the ground on
his back.  There was a moments fear, even now after everything they had
been through, or perhaps because of it.

	But then Kreshtar's mouth found his, and Tristan felt the man's
need and desire, his desperation, and understood.  Honestly, Tristan felt
them himself.  Weeks of traveling, of being with each other and not being
able to do the things that each so desperately wanted to do, and after
almost losing one another.  It had been near enough to torture.

	So, after the initial surprise of the near attack, Tristan kissed
back with need and desperation in equal measure to Kreshtar's own.
Kreshtar probed his tongue deep into Tristan's mouth.  Now running the
length of his tongue across Tristan's own, now passing the tip of it across
Tristan's teeth, then nibbling and biting gently on Tristan's lips.

	Tristan intertwined his fingers in Kreshtar's hair, exerting a
light pressure on the back of Kreshtar's head and forcing the man's tongue
yet deeper.  Tristan's other arm wrapped around Kreshtar's side, kneading
the powerful muscles in the man's back as though they were clay.  He dug
his nails into Kreshtar's skin and dragged them up the length of Kreshtar's
back and back down again, hard enough to leave trails but not enough to
break the skin.  Tristan was rewarded as Kreshtar growled and groaned
deeply against Tristan's mouth, starting to grind his hips into Tristan's,
Kreshtar's sex digging in and rubbing against Tristan's own answering
hardness.

	Kreshtar's weight was pressing down on Tristan, it was almost too
much, crushing and suffocating, like being buried under the force of a
landslide.

	Their loincloths were in the way, was the only cohesive, coherent
thought Kreshtar had in his mind.  With the the arm that did not hold
Tristan pressed to him Kreshtar tore at the clasp of Tristan's loincloth,
it cam off in an easy motion and Kreshtar merely pulled the front portion
of it from between them without bothering to pull the rest out from
underneath Tristan.  Kreshtar tore viciously at the clasp on his own and
pulled it off himself, letting it crumble to the ground next to them.

	Tristan's flesh was warm in the afternoon sunlight, his manhood
felt almost hot to the touch.  Kreshtar began to thrust his hips again,
repositioning himself so that their loins were pressed against each
other's.  Tristan's face was even with Kreshtar's neck and his upper chest
and he began to lick, suck and bite the skin in front of him.  Kreshtar
began to growl deeply in response.

	Under other circumstances Kreshtar might have wanted to take his
time, draw out their passion longer.  But hie was desperate.  He felt as
though a desert, dry and parched from drought, now that it was finally
raining he would greedily drink up every last drop in a hurry.

	With a sudden motion and a grunt Kreshtar flipped Tristan over.
Tristan grunted in response but made no complaints about the rough
treatment.  Kreshtar lowered himself back onto Tristan's back, placing his
throbbing shaft between the cheeks at the swell of Tristan's legs.
Kreshtar wrapped one arm around Tristan's neck, gripping the boy's shoulder
on the other side, his other hand he placed on the young man's hip, pulling
Tristan into him as he began to thrust once more.  Tristan spread his legs
wide to accommodate the considerable length and girth being ground into the
crevice of his backside.  He had almost forgotten how well Kreshtar was
endowed, the man's sex being at least as long as Tristan's forearm and
almost as thick as his wrist.  The largest the young man had ever come
across.  He breathed in deeply and the smell of fresh-turned earth greeted
him, and underneath that came the musky smell that he had come to associate
with Kreshtar.  It was an intoxicating blend o
 f!
 aromas.

	"Oil," Tristan managed to think aloud.  Kreshtar stood hurriedly
and almost ran to the horses.  Digging into one of the baskets strapped to
the mare's back.  He found the jar of oil quickly and dashed back to where
Tristan lay on the ground.  Tristan turned his head and watched as Kreshtar
pulled out the stopper and poured a small stream down in between Tristan's
splayed legs.  Tristan felt the olive oil trickle down, almost tickling,
while Kreshtar poured some on his monstrous shaft and spread it across the
length and girth.  He placed the stopper back in the bottle and set it
aside.  While Kreshtar continued to stroke and spread the oil on his shaft
with one hand the other spread the oil on Tristan.  The feel of the man's
thick and calloused fingers playing with and spreading the oil across the
outside of his hole was incredible and Tristan began to moan in response.

	On a whim Kreshtar took his middle and largest finger and pressed
it slowly and gently on the outside of Tristan's opening.  He had to exert
a little more pressure and then his finger slide inside smoothly.  Tristan
gasped in response, mentally swearing that the man had fingers the size of
other men's endowments.  Kreshtar began to push his finger in and out of
Tristan, like he had his manhood on a few occasions before, burring it all
the way up to his knuckle and then pulling it out almost all of the way.
Tristan moaned loudly, but he wanted something more.

	He pushed himself up on his hands and, looking back at Kreshtar
over his shoulder, locked eyes with the man and said one word.

	"Please."

	Kreshtar needed no further encouragement.  He returned his arm
around Tristan's neck and placed his hand back on the boy's hip.  Then,
despite his pressing desire, he began to push gently.  Tristan hissed in a
sharp breath as his hole was forced wider and made to accommodate the size
of Kreshtar's manhood.

	"You alright?"  Kreshtar managed to growl into Tristan's shoulder
in a husky voice.

	"Yes," Tristan breathed, voice a little high and airy with pain.
"I think that this part is always going to hurt to start with.  You're
simply that big."

	"Sorry," Kreshtar mumble against Tristan's neck apologetically.

	"Don't apologize," Tristan said with a small laugh.  "Believe me,
it is a good thing.  Just, go slowly."

	Kreshtar began to do as Tristan asked.  Slowly moving his manhood
deeper and deeper into Tristan.  He pulled his length slowly out and with
each gentle thrust Kreshtar pushed just a little bit deeper.  Tristan's
breath cam in sharp hasps as he felt Kreshtar's shaft thrust deeper and
deeper inside him.  It was painful, oh sweet goddess, how did she ever
create a man this large?  But that pain was slowly being overridden with
pleasure.  Tristan wanted it all, and began to roll his hips back in time
with Kreshtar's movements, making himself more accessible to the fullness
of Kreshtar's incredible size.

	Kreshtar's took this as an unspoken signal from Tristan.  He
forcefully and unapologetically slammed the rest of his length inside of
Tristan, he had only been about half way in.

	Tristan cried out.  It was a cry that was part pain, part pleasure,
part shock, but all euphoria.  Kreshtar's manhood rubbed against that spot,
that place deep inside of him that he could not quite tell whether or not
touching it was incredibly painful or incredibly pleasurable, all he knew
was that he did not want it to stop.

	Tristan was suddenly aware that he had pushed himself up on his
hands again, arching his back to its fullest extent in response to Kreshtar
shoving in the last of his length.  Kreshtar's hand moved up from Tristan's
hip and had found one of his nipples, pinching and twisting it.  The man's
breath was hot against Tristan's neck, scorching even.  It felt as though
it would burn Tristan away, consume him till there was nothing left but
bones and ashes.  Tristan turned his head to the side and Kreshtar's mouth
met his.  Heat, molten like metal heated in a forge.

	Kreshtar began to thrust again, slowly and then gaining speed as he
found a rhythm.  By Odin, Thor and Tyr, by all the gods in Valhalla there
was noting to compare to this.  Kreshtar began to grunt and growl in time
with his thrusting, Tristan moaning and crying out in response.

	Kreshtar suddenly pushed himself up to his knees, pulling Tristan
with him without pulling his shaft out of the young man.  Tristan cried out
again as the angle changed dramatically all of a sudden and the end of
Kreshtar's sex probed an entirely different spot.

	Tristan's chest and stomach were heaving, his torso was covered in
moist dirt that was almost mud.  It was almost becoming too much, he was
not sure how much more he could take.  Kreshtar kept his arm around
Tristan's neck, his hand moving over Tristan's young chest and shoulder.
Even from here he still towered over the boy.  He leaned his head down and
kissed Tristan deeply, Tristan stretching his head up to meet him.
Kreshtar wrapped his other hand around Tristan's own sizable manhood, hard
and leaking, squeezing it till he knew it must almost be painful and began
to move his hand in an opposing rhythm to his thrusts.

	Tristan felt it build, like a pot about to boil and froth over.  He
heard Kreshtar's voice change as well, a distinction in pitch that was
unmistakable.  All it would take to send him over was...

	There.  Tristan cried out against Kreshtar's mouth, it was more of
a scream that raked itself from the depths of his throat that had nothing
in the world to do with pain.  He felt his sac tighten, his body convulsing
as his seed shot from him like an arrow from a bow.  Kreshtar roared behind
Tristan, screaming down the young man's throat, Tristan's convulsions being
just enough to push him over the brink.  Tristan felt Kreshtar's manhood
erupt inside of him, thick searing ropes that felt like they should burn
him from the inside out.

	They both collapsed on the ground, Kreshtar still on top of
Tristan, their tremors slowly subsiding.  They both were gasping for
breath, hearts pounding against each other.

	"I think," Tristan said between gasps for air.  "I think that I am
going to have to put you on bed rest more often."

	"Why is that?"  Kreshtar asked almost defensively.

	"Because this is apparently what happens when you come off of it."
Turning his head to look at the man on top of him, wearing his signature
grin, both incredibly innocent and incredibly wicked in the same stroke.

	"This can happen all the time without denying me rigorous
pursuits," Kreshtar retorted.  "I'll just have to prove it to you," a
wicked smile of his own spreading across his features.

	Tristan gave a breathless laugh in response.  Kreshtar gently
pulled himself out of Tristan and sat up, releasing the young man.  Tristan
stood on legs that were not entirely steady and walked over to the mare.
Out of one of the baskets he produced a loaf of bread they had purchased in
the town and some dried strips of meat.  He picked up one of the water
skins and brought it all next to the fire where Kreshtar had already
situated himself.

	Tristan plopped himself down in between Kreshtar's legs and leaned
back into Kreshtar's muscular torso.  He handed half of the meat to
Kreshtar and started to gnaw on the strips he kept for himself.  They broke
off pieces of the loaf and washed it down with the water skin.

	"Well," Tristan said idly, "we certainly made a mess of ourselves."

	"You're complaining?"

	"By now means," Tristan responded heartily.  "I simply think that
maybe we should get cleaned up before it gets too much later, since we have
a lake so conveniently located next to us."

	"You lead and I shall follow," Kreshtar replied warmly.

	Tristan stood and they both made their way to the water's edge.
The lake was cold, fed by snow farther up the mountain side, but it was
also refreshing.  The two did not linger though, the sun having made it's
way to the western edge of the horizon.  Kreshtar retrieved the heavy
blanket from their things as they made their way back to the fire.  He sat
down, Tristan sitting in front of him again, and wrapped the blanket about
them both against the cooling evening.

	The two sat in silence for a while, the light of day slowly fading
and dying around them in degrees.

	"Are you certain about this?"  Tristan asked, breaking the long
comfortable silence that had stretched out.

	"As certain as sunrise and sunset," Kreshtar responded without
hesitation.  "In order for you to practice your craft you must settle down
and make a permanent home for yourself.  So too shall I dwell with you."

	"Kreshtar," Tristan said again after another long moment, "there is
something that I wish to ask you."

	"What is it?" Kreshtar responded.

	"Can you, will you teach me what you know?"  Tristan asked
hesitantly.

	"I can and shall," Kreshtar said after a moment, "if that is what
you wish.  But I'll warn you now, it is not an easy path to walk.  All the
training that I can offer and in this world cannot adequately prepare you
for killing a man.  I can teach you the sword, but of death and killing,
the only way to truly learn of that is from experience.  And I pray to the
gods that you never have the chance for that."

	"I know," Tristan whispered back.  "But if I had even known just a
little of how to fight then maybe I wouldn't have been captured by the
soldiers all those weeks ago.  I don't ever want to feel helpless again."

	"And maybe, just maybe," Kreshtar countered, "if you had known how
to fight at all, then the soldiers might have deemed you a threat to be
dealt with lethal force.  Your inability to defend yourself was probably
what ultimately saved your life that night.  But nevertheless, I shall
teach you."

	 "Thank you," Tristan whispered, leaning back into Kreshtar's torso
and closing his eyes in contentment.

	"Here," Kreshtar invited, "the day is done, let us lay down for the
night.  Tomorrow I'm going to sell the mare in town and see what assistance
we can get with building a home."

	"Well," Tristan commented, "we should be able to offer help with
other things for different people in return for help building the house."

	"This is true," Kreshtar said, as they both stood up and he
arranged the heavy blanket on the ground so they could go to sleep.  "But a
number of them will want coin or something more tangible in return.  So we
will have to figure something out."

	They both lay on the blanket, Tristan in front of Kreshtar and
pressed up against his comforting weight and warmth.  Kreshtar wrapped his
arms around the young man in front of him, one arm underneath the hollow of
Tristan's neck and shoulder and the other circling his waist.  Tristan
reveled in the warmth and feel of Kreshtar's body pressed against him and
soon fell fast asleep.  Kreshtar lay awake for a while though, listening to
the sounds of the night begin to surround them and the steady, even sound
of Tristan's breathing.

	So, this was it.  The thought ran through his head.  He wanted
this, to stay and live with this young man, this boy, that had become such
an intrinsic part of his life and habits.  But another part of him was
hesitant, would he be able to live with out fighting?  He thought of his
two 'mistresses', how war and conflict had always given him his meat and
drink.  This new life offered him was strange, and oddly enough he felt no
little amount of fear and uncertainty about it.

	Eventually he pushed such thoughts from his mind and turned his
attention to what exactly he would do to help sustain them.  Hunting, the
conclusion finally came to him.  He would hunt, it was something that had
always come naturally to him.  They could keep the meat for themselves and
the skins and furs could be tanned and stretched to be used or sold.  The
innkeeper Marcus had said that he had gotten a number of fur traders
through that city.  And while Kreshtar didn't think that he would ever
really journey that far south or east, certainly he could find adequate
wealth closer to where they would make their home.  The next town over even
had river travel and trade only about a week's journey away.

	Sleep finally claimed him, and Kreshtar willingly submitted himself
to it.  The young man in front of him putting to rest any doubts in his
mind that he might have had, at least for the time being.