Mark

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MARK Part 1 of 4 by Ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of gay fiction and depicts sex between a seventeen year old and a fifty-one-year-old-male. If you are underage or offended by material of this sort, don't read it.

As always your comments, criticism, questions and requests for missing installments are welcomed by the author at Ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca

I cracked open the store room door and went in. His head was bowed over his knees. I think he was asleep, even in that doubled up, uncomfortable position, because it was several seconds before he lifted his head up and looked at me.

After six days of being locked in the store room, he looked pretty bad. He looked old. First time I saw him, I thought he was most likely a guy in his late thirties, but now when he met my gaze with a haggard, unshaven face and bloodshot eyes, I realised that he was in his forties, maybe even his early fifties.

I squatted. "Hi ya." I threw him a grin.

He drew a long uneven breath. His face was pale. He didn't say anything, just putting his mouth together in a grim line.

I heard you singing." I said. "What was that, that you were singing?"

"You're... You're the faggot kid." He stated unsteadily.

"That's right." I didn't take offense. I looked him over. He had his feet tied together in front of him and his wrists roped behind his back. In that position he couldn't do much but sit. "How long since they had you untied?"

"Yesterday morning."

"I heard you yesterday when they kicked the door and told youto shut up. What was that that you were singing?'

"Goodnight Irene."

"What kind of a song was that?"

"Just... a folk song." His eyes were fixed on me grimly. "What did you come here to do?"

"Well," I said. "Joe is drunk. There's nobody much keeping an eye on you, and I thought I'd check in and see if you want water."

He had to be thirsty because I knew for sure nobody had been to check on him or give him a drink since yesterday, but he didn't say yes to me. He just looked at me with bleak mistrust.

"Or maybe you need to pee, anything like that. I thought I'd come and give you a hand with it." I was talking easily, chattily even, trying to set him at ease, because he was as grim and grey as a concrete wall.

I didn't expect him to make teeth at me. His mouth set in a snarl. He shrank back. "No!"

I rocked back on my heels and looked at him in amazement. I didn't say nothing. I didn't know what to say. Here I was, offering him a favour, one that might even get Joe pissed off at me, if he ever sobered up enough to realise I'd been in the storeroom, and there the old guy was, snapping at me like I was a threat. But that was the thing. It was written all over him, in the tense anger on his face that was making him shiver. He was scared. To him I was a threat.

"Goodnight, Irene." I said. "I liked the sound of it, kind of husky and wistful all at once. That was a good song, I thought."

"Did they tell you to come in here, Kid?" His voice wasn't sounding right, but dry and scratchy. He was making himself talk, with an effort.

"No. I came 'cause I wanted to."

His eyes were grey. His hair and the stubble on his face was brown. He looked me over, trying to decide if I was an amiable idiot the way I was sounding or not. "Is it true you raped someone? A man?" He asked me directly.

"Yeah, it's true." I said slowly. "He tried to kill me. First he tried to shake me down and I beat him up. Then he came back with a friend and they had knives, you know. So I hit him in the face with a brick and his friend ran away. And then I did rape him. It was that or kill him. I wanted him good and scared of me, so that he'd leave me alone." I cocked my head and looked at the prisoner."Is that what you're afraid of, that I'm going to rape you?"

He didn't answer me directly. His chest was rising and falling as he breathed deep and he squirmed against the ropes. He paused awhile, which was enough of an answer. He was making himself ask what he was scared about, so he went on. "Did they tell you to come in here and kill me?"

"Why would they do that?" I was startled. "They told you they'd let you go, soon as they laid hands on the horses. Didn't they say that?"

He didn't answer my question.

"Oh, man." I said. "Everybody thinks I'm their pet perv. Yeah, I'm gay. Yeah, sometimes I fight. But I ain't fighting for them.The only reason I'm hanging around here is that they owe me on a deal. They owe me a horse and I'm waiting around to collect my payment for work I did for them this summer. I don't work for them now."

He breathed out shakily, several breaths. His mouth crooked feebly in an attempt at a smile that failed.

"You thirsty?"

"Yes."

"I'll get you a drink."

I went out leaving the store room open. I went along to the bucket of drinking water that stood in the kitchen and I dipped some up in a cup. I brought it back, along with my bandanna, which I'd dripped water on.

"Okay," I said when I squatted down beside him again. "What's your name?"

"Mark."

"Here's water, Mark."

I tilted the cup, he drank it and the water dripped off his lower lip. His voice was high for a man when he talked again. The scratchiness in it was gone after a few gulps of water. "Would you help me, please?"

"Depends on what." I said.

"Would you...undo the ropes?"

"I guess I gotta, if I'm going to give you a chance to pee. But I'm not letting you loose, now." I warned.

"You don't have the handcuff keys?"

"Handcuffs? You're in handcuffs?" I shook my head.

"Then I'm not going anywhere." said Mark. "But I am very cramped here." For a moment his eyes turned up as he tensed against the ropes.

I took a look behind him. Sure enough, it was like he said. They had ropes keeping his knees doubled up, and his feet together, but that was just to be nasty. The handcuffs on his wrists went through a ring on the wall. They could have left him with his feet free and it wouldn't have made any difference.

"Yeah, sure." I said. I wondered if I was going to get into analtercation with Joe when he sobered up. He'd know for sure that the prisoner wasn't roped the way he'd left him, if I untied Mark. I shrugged. To fuck with Joe. I was going to let this poor s.o.b.get a few of his muscles unkinked.

Mark stank. He smelt like a guy who had been sweating and not washing. I had to get my nose practically against his clothes to reach my arms around him to get at the rope on his wrists. "I'll have you undone in a minute..." He gave a grunt when I loosened the rope that held his knees doubled up. He stretched them out. It took awhile to pick the knots apart since the ropes had been pulled tight.

He looked up at me while he moved his feet and ankles and wriggled them, trying to get the kinks out. "Thanks, Kid." he said.

"Okay now," I said. "I got a potato baked that I thought I could give you to eat. But with you like that, I'd have to hand feed it to you. You're not hungry enough to want to eat like that, are you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Okay." I went back to the kitchen and brought the potato back. I held it up to his mouth and he took a mouthful, biting it with careful teeth and I kept holding it for him. His eyes looked at me, meeting mine.

"How old are you, Mark?" I asked.

"Fifty-one."

"Then you're old enough you could be my Dad." I said.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Sixteen, seventeen. I don't know. What's the date?"

"It's the twelfth."

"Then I'm seventeen." I grinned. "Fifth of November is my birthday."

"Is your name Guy Fawkes?"

I looked blank. "No, Sorry." I said after a moment. "I don't know him. You mistook me for someone else."

He was smiling wryly. I saw him swallow as the mouthfuls of potato went down. The smile went. "The men aren't back yet from going after the horses?"

"No, not yet. But I wish they would be soon."

"Any idea how soon they will be back?"

"Should be any time." I shrugged. "Trip back should be quicker than the trip there, since they'll have horses to ride back. Unless the horses aren't broke enough to ride. They are broke enough to ride, aren't they?"

"There are no horses in the barn at Smithville."

His voice was so level when he said it, that it took me a moment to comprehend what he was saying.

"You lied?!" I exclaimed. "You sent them to Smithville and you lied? There's no horses there?"

He met my eyes calmly. He didn't say it again.

I drew back. "Fuck." I said. "They are going to murder you.You sent them all the way to Smithville. The horses'll be long gone before they get back, won't they?"

He nodded.

"Well, fuck." I said. I was amazed. "No horses... Where are the horses?"

"I'm not saying."

I realised I was staring at him with my mouth open. I shut it."Fuck." I said. "Fuck. They are going to butcher you when you get back. They need those horses. And they owe me one of those horses." Then I didn't say anything more while I thought about it.

The day they picked him up on the road outside of Green Valley was the first time I'd seen him. By the time I'd come down to the group of men, he'd had a bloody nose and it was taking two guys to keep him standing on his feet. They were trying to make him tell where the horses were. There was a carpet of yellow leaves on the dirt road under us and spots of red blood from his nose, bright on those leaves at his feet.

When Arval saw me come down he'd put a nasty grin on his face.

"See that kid? That kid is a faggot. If you don't tell us where those fucking horses are, we're going to let him rape you. He likes raping guys."

I hadn't said anything, I'd been so surprised. I was embarrassed, so I smirked and flushed.

"Is this shithead cute enough for you?" Arval had demanded.

"Yeah, he's cute but.." I'd never finished my answer. The staggering man with the pinioned arms had turned white.

"No!" he'd croaked. They punched him in the belly. A few moments later he'd been on his knees and in between retches he'd been talking.

"Horses in Smithville...Don't let the kid do it.. Don't... In the barn in Smithville..."

Arval had tried to tell me that I had to go along with them to get the horse they owed me. I'd laughed in his face. "If I go on a raid with you, then you're going to owe me two horses instead of one! You want me to fight for you again, this time you're going to have to pay me in advance!"

I don't think anybody had seriously considered if the old guy was stringing them a line or not. It was obvious that he was scared to death by the threat that I'd rape him. The armed raiding party had set on its way within two more hours, leaving a skeleton crew at the fort and locking the prisoner from Green Valley up in the store room so he wouldn't go streaking back and warn of the raiders coming.

"Can I have another cup of water?"

"Why'd you do it? Lie, I mean?" I demanded. I moved towards the door with the empty cup. "Jesus, you don't own those horses. Are they worth so much you'd protect them with your own skin?"

He sighed heavily and bitterly. I went out for the water.

"I need a horse." I complained when I came back. I knelt beside him tilting the cup. "Holy fuck, Mark. You were nuts to lie.I can't believe you did that."

"What are they going to do?" He asked painfully. "When they come back."

I hesitated. "Well... They'll butcher you."

He was breathing deep and scared. "Will they shoot me?"

"I don't know that." I said. "Man...." I shook my head.

"They'll kill me, right?"

"I kinda think so." I met him soberly. "If you lied, then they're going to have to start over. I don't think they're going to be able to get those horses at all. They'll be fucking mad. Arval, he's, I don't know, he's gonna maybe kick you to death or something. Fuck. It's pretty bad for you, Man."

He leaned his head back against the wall with a heavy sigh. After a few seconds he looked back at me again and when I let him meet my eyes, he gave a little shrug.

"Sorry." I said lamely. "But look, this is all I can help you with. Do you need to piss?"

"Yes." His voice was still tight and guarded.

"I'll help you with that. Only I can't uncuff you. But I can get you something to do it into."

He didn't say yes, go for it, please. He said nothing. I knew what that was. It was him being afraid of me.

I went and got one of the empty tins from the garbage heap outside the kitchen door. It had weathered long enough that it wasn't too nasty to hold. I brought this back. "Look, I said to Mark. "I know this is embarrassing. Haven't you ever pissed when there were other guys around before?"

"Of course I have."

"Don't be so uptight." My voice was irritable. I put the can down between his thighs. His legs were tense. I could see it in the way they were pulling back away from me. I looked up at his face."You want me to skip it?"

"No."

"I'm gonna unzip your pants."

"Don't touch my dick, Kid." He said grimly.

I unzipped him. Underneath there was pale blue jockey shorts. I looked at him with a twisted mouth and raised one eyebrow. Now what? I challenged him silently.

Awkwardly he shifted about. When he struggled his feet underneath himself he could kneel. I moved the can about so that it stayed directly in front of him. He looked down at the can, breathing heavily.

"What are you going to do, bounce it out? C'mon, Man." I said."You want to piss, you are going to have to let me dig your dick out for you. I am not going to feel you up. I could do that if I wanted to. Don't you know that?"

"Take it out." He said admitting defeat.

I reached in. His prick was soft and warm. It was cut. Even limp, it was a big handful. I let it drop.

He took a deep breath and the stream started. For a moment I stared at the shapely pink head, eyes caught by the sight of the pale golden liquid pouring from the slit. Then I yanked my eyes away. I looked at the opposite wall. I heard the liquid trinkling in the can. It was almost musical in the metal. I kept my eyes fixed in the other direction until the note stopped.

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Need to shit?"

"No."

"Good." I said. "I don't know how we could manage that." I turned back again. I pulled the can away first. His dick still drooped from his fly. I took it businesslike, felt the dot of wetness at the tip as I tucked it in again and zipped him up.

"Thank you." he said. He sat back down again. He was looking at me a lot more steadily, a lot less crazily now that he'd survived my groping him. I picked up the can and felt the warmth through the metal sides. I carried it off.

When I came back again Mark was flexing his legs back and forth again, stretching them out over and over again. He looked like he was trying to swim on his back. He was looking at me considering.

"You really go for guys?" He asked. "The rape wasn't a one time thing?"

"Well, maybe the rape was." I said. "But I go for guys. I like to fuck 'em." I shrugged. "Gets me in trouble. That was why that guy, that I hadda rape, kept coming after me. He figured since I'm a faggot that I was a victim. He thought he could put the screws on me. Asshole."

He was frowning. "You're only seventeen. How did you get into that?"

He was really curious, I think. I gave a laugh. "Man, I knew I liked guys from way, way back; from back when climbing on Santa's lap and getting a kiss was something, because he was a man giving it to me. It's not a decision a guy makes, that he wants to be a sicko perv. I couldn't be any other way. It's what I want. Girls don't work for me. I don't get no say in it."

He nodded slowly. He had lost most of his frown.

"Listen." I said. I held up the bandanna. "As long as we've already gotten intimate, I figured, maybe you'd like to wipe off your face or something. I was going to let you do it, but you can't. You want me to do that too?"

"Okay, Kid." said Mark. "Please."

When I was doing it I went back to thinking what they were going to do to him. There was a bit of a bruise still on the side of his face that I could see, yellow under the skin as I ran the cold wet bandanna over it. They'd punched him in the face some the day they picked him up. They'd given him a going over just because he wasn't one of them and they wanted to make him talk. When they lit into him this time, yeah, it was going to be bad enough. I was real glad Mark wasn't a friend of mine, that it wasn't a buddy of mine who was going to take hell like that.

"How's that?" I said. "Better?"

"Yes, thanks." His grey eyes were turned up inquiringly. "Why are you doing this?"

"I dunno." I paused. "I liked your singing. It made me think, somehow, I dunno. I liked you, singing away in here like that."

"It gave me something to do, sitting in here." His smile was unsteady.

"They sure as fuck didn't appreciate you singing." I faked a laugh. I was trying to make things easy, pretend I wasn't carrying around a sick, confused knot in my guts thinking about him being got by the angry guys when they got back. "Sounded like a lullaby to me."

"Would you have raped me if I didn't talk?" said Mark.

The question surprised me again. "No." I said. "No. I don't work for those guys. I did this summer. But not now. I was only staying here until I got paid."

I'm going to get out of here, I thought. If they aren't coming back with horses then I'm going to go, and I'll be gone before they work their anger out on him.

"They stiffed me my payment." I said. "They were supposed to get me the horse before October. Actually they said they'd get me two cows. Only by the end of August they'd killed the herd, slaughtered it for beef, so we agreed they'd give me a horse instead. They don't pay their debts. I bet I never collect. And that shit-for-brains, Arval, he wants me to stay the winter with them, work for my keep. He thinks I'm fucking stupid."

"Then you don't work for them?"

"Not never again, I don't." I said.

"Kid? Would you help me, please?" His voice was quiet and level.

"What could I do?"

"You could intervene."

"They won't listen for me, if I say don't kill you."

"You could do something, somehow."

"I don't know what." I said. "You want me to plead or something? You don't know what those guys are like."

"Yes, I do know." said Mark.

"It wasn't me lied to them." I said.

I sat on the floor beside him. It seemed to me that there wasn't much to say. It wasn't the kind of thing where you can console a guy by telling him don't sweat it. I was thinking most likely someone would go off furious and maybe shoot him or hit him real good and that would kill him quick. But I was also thinking there was a pretty big chance when Arval came back they'd lay a beating on the guy and that was how he'd die, after half a dozen guys had spent the day laying into him. They'd be pounding on him or kicking and it could take him hours getting beat up like that.

He was staring at me and wriggling his feet about. I glanced down at them, seeing them wiggle. "You want me to take your boots off?"

He gave me a nod.

I leaned over his feet and tugged at the laces. The boots were stuck on the damp socks. I had to tug hard and the socks came away. His feet were sticky.

"There." I said. "I'll put them on again in a few minutes. But that I can do at least. Let 'em dry out a little."

"Kid?"

"Yeah?"

"You really like to fuck guys?"

I thought he was making conversation, trying to distract himself. He was back on that subject again. But still he wasn't saying 'dirty faggot!' or nothing like that. "Yeah, I do." I said absently.

"If..." His voice was broken up, so I looked up quick. "If I let you fuck me, will you get me out of here. Please?" He had horrible anguished eyes, all of a sudden. "I'll do anything, any kind of way you want me to. Whatever."

I think my eyes got big with surprise. I opened my mouth to tell him something and then realised I didn't know what I was going to tell him, so I shut it again. I just stared at him.

If I got him out of there, I'd have to release him. He was asking me to rescue him. And if I did that, that was going against Arval. Didn't he realise that he was asking me to go up against Arval and wind up with all his bunch enemies after me? Yeah, he realised it. How the hell did he think I could do it?

I didn't say any of that, because I was purely amazed. There he was, fifty years old for fuck's sake, smelling of unwashed feet, bristly with a week's dirty beard, and his disgust for me written all over him and he was offering me the use of his body like he was some kind of an irresistible actor, like as if he thought I was going to throw myself at the chance to fuck an old stud like him. He thought I had a hard on in my jeans for him?

Only I did, actually. I'd been doing a good job of ignoring it. I don't think he could have seen it, with my jacket in front, but crazy as it was, yes, I did have a hard on for him.

All the while I was thinking this, he wasn't saying nothing. He had his eyes glued to my face. He wasn't saying a word, but his eyes were saying Please? and his quick waiting breaths were saying Please? He waited for me to answer him silently.

I opened my mouth again. I was going to say, I don't want to fuck you like that, but all I said was, "I can't get you loose because I don't have the handcuff keys."

I went out of the store room. Mark lay down with his back to the wall, which must have been twisting his arms awkwardly. I closed the door up after me and I walked slow through the fort with my hands in my pockets, thinking.

The key. Joe had the key. And how the fuck did that stupid shit in the storeroom think I could get the key?

Joe was in the office room that they use for the officer on duty. He had his elbow on the desk and his head on his elbow. When I came in softly he gave me a silly grin.

"Hi, Joe." I said. I slouched down in one of the chairs opposite him. "No sign of the guys yet?"

I got a boozy shake of the head. "Want one?" Joe slurred.

"Yeah, thanks." I sat up straight, animated. "Shall I pour you another at the same time?"

Joe was drinking beer, home brew that hadn't been allowed to ferment long enough, cut with vodka. I had a swallow. I couldn't believe how bad it tasted. Well, they say a drunk will drink anything. >From the look of the empties rolling about on the floor, Joe had been fulfilling that prediction.

"How come the guys from Green Valley owe you guys horses anyway?" I asked. "I don't quite understand how that came about."

Joe wasn't up to explaining it. "Those pussies..." he mumbled," Those pussies made a promise... They promised."

I sat along side Joe companionably. I kept putting my lips on the rim of the mug and not drinking from it. For awhile Joe rambled about the cunts and pussies from Green Valley. Then he started to peer at me.

"You're not a pussy, no... Kid's not a pussy."

"Have another one." I said. "No, I'm still finishing my first." When I poured it for him, I made it one third vodka.

"Ain't a pussy, huh..?" He was blearing over the desk. I kept smiling. He must have been damn fogged.

"S's not a pussy... s's a fuckin' fruitcake."

"There's no fruitcake here." I said. "It's not Christmas."

"S'ss just a fruitcake...ffffag boy...yeah."

When his head rolled off of his elbow onto the desk, I stood up. I leaned over him. "I think you're drunk, Joe. Want me to help you out to your bunk?" I patted over him, cautiously at first.

There was a big ring of keys, chained to the belt loop of his jeans. I took my knife out and slit the loop.

"Fruitcake..." Joe murmured from the desk. I tucked the keys away.

"That's right, you'll get fruitcake at Christmas." I told him. I took his shoulder and dragged him back. I was afraid he was going to roll off of the desk. I left him with his cheek squashed up against the surface and with one arm dangling limply.

I went out to the road first. Nobody on the road. I was checking how much time I had. I had this creepy feeling that the raiding party could be back at any moment.

Then I went up to the bunk I'd been sleeping in, in the loft with a dozen other hangers on. There was nobody there. I rolled up my blankets and punched my spare shirt into a bag. I had those things together in about a minute.

My gun was in the armoury. That was no problem. One of the keys on Joe's ring was the key to the armoury. The wall racks were half empty because of the raid, but my rifle was there. I took my rifle. I considered turning thief and loading up on guns. It wasn't practical, not without transportation. So all I took was my own rifle and the ammunition to go with it. I could have taken more, they owed me much, much more, but then again, I was taking something more.

When I went in the store room again, Mark raised his head up. He looked at me kind of startled to see me, and when he saw the gun that I had on my shoulder, I think it made him afraid.

I dropped to my knees. "One of these keys better work."

Mark sat up and leaned far forward. "You got a key?!" He started to breath real fast.

"I only hope I got the right fucking key." I muttered. When I found it I threw him a grin. "Sure, I do. Think I'd miss the chance to fuck a virgin ass like yours?"

His breath exploded in a great gasp as I got one wrist undone and his arms fell wide. He staggered up to his feet with me bringing him up by his shoulder to speed him up.

"Now, listen." I said. I was going to tell him that he had to move quick and be quiet, but then he fell on his face. "Oh shit!" I said instead.

Of course, he was all weak from not being allowed to move around for six days. I should have realised that. I got him back on his feet again and at first he flinched and jerked away from me. But he stopped that flinching when I stood him on his feet.

"Aw, fuck it, Mark." I complained. "Can't you walk?"

"I can walk." he said. "He put his teeth together and managed three staggering steps. Then he scrabbled for the wall and I stopped him from toppling again.

"Fine fucking jailbreak, this is." I said. "Gimme your arm. Stop it. Let go of the wall. That's it." I slung his arm behind my neck and we lurched out the door that way. Mark had six or eight inches on me, so the arm thing didn't work too bad and he walked all he could.

I'd planned on sneaking him softly over the wall, but the way he was buckling, wall climbing and quick sly sprints seemed out of the question. Instead I just walked him towards the back gate, trying to keep close to the buildings so that we would be less in sight.

The girls had been sent out into the fields earlier in the day, so of all things the back gate turned out to be standing wide open. I gave a grin when I saw it. Mark was swinging a bit, hanging from my neck, but he was also making good progress. He seemed to be able to take a bit more of his weight. I was real aware of his sweat with him clinging to me like that.

We were maybe six steps from the gate, tangoing along when Bernie the foreman turned up.

"Hey!!" Bernie gave a shout. I spun Mark around. Bernie was pelting up a few steps away.

I shoved Mark off my shoulder. "Run." I ordered him. "Get through the gate." I would have brought my rifle down and around but I didn't have time. Bernie closed with me.

"What the fuck you doing!" he roared. We were grappling. Bernie outweighed me by maybe fifty pounds. I had a hard time of it. We fought for real. He brought his knee up and tried to pound with his fists. Our bodies impacted. Bernie was taller than me too. I couldn't manage a hit, not at first. I had to block him. We were too close quarters to hit. Then, when he pulled back to get room for a good blow himself, I managed a punch to his throat.

Gasping, Bernie staggered another step away from me. I hit him again, the same place. He fell on his knees. I took a quick look.The yard and the parade ground were empty, but that didn't mean nobody had heard him.

I had to disable Bernie and make sure he wouldn't yell again. I could have shot him. But I kicked him over onto his side and then I kicked his face. Blood blossomed bright scarlet, exploding from my boot. He jerked and didn't move. As I whirled around and sprinted for the gate, I heard Bernie sucking loud broken breaths behind me.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I was angry. I was angry with Bernie most of all. I hadn't wanted to fight. If I could have stopped Bernie by pointing my rifle at him, I would have. But I hadn't been able to use my rifle on account of Mark.

When I dashed though the gate, the road was empty in front of me. I looked around. Mark had gone over the fence into the potato field. He was cutting his way diagonally over the furrows up hill, headed towards the nearest trees. He'd gotten a lot farther than I had expected. As I looked up, he pitched over, caught himself on one arm and just kept going hardly losing speed. I vaulted the fence after him.

Mark turned a white, mud stained face at me when I caught up. I grabbed the old guy by the shoulder again. He was labouring, mouth agape. I kept dragging him. We went on at a speed that wasn't a run but made good progress all the same.

Halfway up the field his feet gave out under him. He didn't stop moving. He just couldn't stand. I took his arm over my shoulders again. "Jesus, fuck.!" I exclaimed. "You're a cripple. It's like running with a one legged man!"

"Sorry..." We staggered our way to the top of the hill.

Mark needed to stop there. His legs were just not taking his weight any more. Only we couldn't stop. We were way too close to the fort to pause for breath. How long would it be before half a dozen men with guns came spilling out after us? Well, maybe they wouldn't all have guns, I thought. I'd carefully locked the armoury up behind me and it would take them awhile to get anything better than the sentry's weapons.

MARK Part 2 of 4 By ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca

I didn't want to stop, not even for thirty seconds, but I let Mark kneel there, just inside the naked grey scrub trees while I counted seconds and listened tensely for pursuit. From below he looked up at me. His eyes were shocked. Something halfway between a grin and a gape of terror was turned at me. "Are we okay now, Kid, you think?"

"Not by a long shot." I retorted. "Get up as soon as you can."

"Sorry... My legs are so weak."

"Yeah, I know. It's a fucking miracle you can run at all, after spending a week hog tied."

"What did you do about that guy?"

"I kicked him unconscious." I said. "You better be fucking worth this, you know that?"

"I'll try." Mark swallowed.

"Yeah? You know they are most likely going to come after us with guns? You know what it's like when a guy gets shot? Have you even seen it?"

"Yeah, I've seen it."

"You better pray you can move fast enough it doesn't happen to us."

He gave a shaky laugh and put his hands together. "I'm praying!"

I was still mean from the adrenalin. Looking at him down on his knees made certain ideas come into my mind. "You like being on your knees like that? I may just take my payment from you in cocksucking."

His laugh went completely. "Now? You want me to do it right now?!" He drew back chagrined.

"Here, less than a quarter mile from the fort?" I laughed at him. "Man, I know I've given you reason to think I want to drill you, but I am not so stupid that I'd stop to get my rocks off this close to the fort."

He got up and we went on. It was painfully slow. At the top of the hill he was bearing left, headed East. I pulled his arm. "This way."

"I want to go back to the road."

"The road! Are you crazy?"

"No. I've got stuff I have to pick up."

"Whaddya mean?" I demanded.

"My tools. When I realised that there was an ambush closing round me, I stashed my tools. I have to go back for them."

"Oh shit." I said.

"I need them, Kid. I can't work without them."

I know what a guy's tools mean to him. A lot of trades need tools. If a guy can't work, he most likely can't eat. Going around again onto the road where we might meet the raiding party was not something I wanted to do. But Mark said he needed his tools and I had no argument to put up that would counter that.

"We'll get shot." I said. We cut a wide circle across country. He lost the lay of the land, but I'm pretty good at that, so I took him around. It was about six miles away from the fort, in the area where people paid taxes to three or four rival militias. He said if I got him within half a mile of the place where they caught him, he'd be able to find them. We scrambled across fields and skirted around farms making slow progress. I wanted to yell at him for not being able to run, but I knew he was doing amazingly well.

Pink twilight closed in when we were crackling through woods above a marsh. A hollow formed a vee out of the wind. "We can stop here." I said. Mark folded like a puppet. I left him in a heap and began cutting boughs.

"What's that for, Kid?" He roused himself to watch me working.

"Our bed."

"Oh."

I threw him a grin. "Tonight we cosy up. The clouds are coming up, there won't be enough light to travel by, I think. So we're just going to cuddle up and get some rest, unless the clouds break. If they break, I think we better go on."

"We're going to...do it there?" He looked at the heap of litter and makeshift windbreak that I was constructing.

I turned around. "Look," I said. "You don't really want to bum up for me, do you? And you'd rather eat entrails than suck my dick.You honestly figure you can bring yourself to put out for me?"

"I said I'd do it. Any way you tell me to." He made his voice strong with determination. "I will do it. I'm not going to try to welsh on you."

"Whaddya prefer? Me, fucking your ass or you giving me a real good tongue job, licking my balls and my asshole before you take it all the way down your throat?" I jeered.

He winced. "I'll do what you prefer."

"Both."

He breathed heavily. "If that's what you think is fair."

"Well..." I said. "Fair, I don't know. But they owed me for nine weeks work, good wages. And since I stole you I won't be able to collect. Fair, I think would be to say that instead of my horse, I've got me a sex slave."

He looked at me instead of yelping in protest. "They would have killed me, Kid. You didn't have to tell me that. I knew that. When I said that the horses were in Smithville, I knew that. I do pay my debts, but... I've a job here, Kid, and people who are counting on me. I can't go off with you wherever you come from. There was a woman having a baby. I was going to go see her. I have to go see her. I don't know if she's had the baby yet. But I know she's still expecting me."

What I was saying, that Mark had to be my slave from here on, I was just stringing him a line. I mean, obviously that was a line. I couldn't keep him, make him go any place with me, if he didn't want to go. I was sort of picking on him. I did think he owed me one, but not like that. Only there he was, he took me seriously. He was talking about it, like as if he really owed me a debt that I could collect on.

"You got a baby?" I said.

"Yes." said Mark.

"Where's the baby?"

"Farm above Stanton Creek."

"Okay. First you go see the baby, and then we can work out what you owe me or not." I said. "But I'm not taking the kid's mother in trade for you. I'm not interested in no woman."

"I understand that, Kid." Mark said. "She's not mine to give away."

I had finished building the wind break. It wasn't much of a one, just brush, but it would keep us off the ground and enclosed us on the side that the hill behind us didn't. I dug the blankets out. "You ready to lie down?" I asked him.

He got up stiffly. "What do you want me to do tonight, Kid?"

I was getting exasperated. "You know what I want you to do tonight? I fucking want you to stop calling me kid!"

He was taken aback. All the same, he made a joke. "What should I call you? -Sir?"

"My name is Eamon."

"Okay. Eamon." He agreed.

He lay down on the brush and I lay down and pulled the blankets about us. I could feel the buttons on his heavy jacket pressing against the jacket I was wearing. He fixed his eyes on me, waiting to see if I would do anything.

In the fading light I could see his hand, pale and long fingered. He had strong, sensitive looking hands, but they didn't have callouses on them. They looked like hands that could play on you like instruments, that could shiver out a guy's nerve endings if ever he wanted to make love. Looking at them, I wanted to take two or three of his slim fingers in my mouth and suck on them. Mark is beautiful, I thought. I had a hard on in my pants again. I wasn't going to be able to jerk off with the terrified virgin bedded down beside me. I didn't let him know it was there. I closed my eyes resolutely.

We got under way again about three hours before light. Mark stayed behind me at my shoulder. We found his tools no problem. He had buried them in a thicket. He had them in a great big black sports bag, and at least they weren't all metal because it wasn't that heavy. I gave him my bag to carry with the blankets and stuff and carried his, which was bigger and heavier.

We cut away from the road again. It would take longer to go to Stanton Creek across country but we weren't going to run into any ambushes that way.

Mark had his eyes on me wondering, every time I glanced back at him.

"Eamon," he said. "Do you really want to keep me for a sex slave?"

"You bet." I was short of breath from scrambling up an incline, tugging Mark and carrying his bag.

"I couldn't tell if you were kidding last night. You sounded a bit like you were kidding."

"Would I kid you in a matter like that?" I suggested. "Heck, no. I'm going to force you to come with me, away down coast and open a brothel with you as my bumboy and sell you out to hoards of drunken sailors."

"Hoards..?" He sounded more puzzled than alarmed. He didn't rise to my bait this time.

"Uh-huh. Naturally. They'll be taking you, two, three at a time. Fifteen guys a night. I should be able to make just enough money off of you to keep me in beer." I scanned the grey trees below us, checking the withering weeds that still stood up from the ground, for signs that anything as large as a man had stepped on them going through. "I'll have to sell your clothes to rent me a room. All you'll get to wear is a little strip of rag and chain around your neck. I'll put a tag on the chain. 'I belong to Eamon.' It'll say, 'Rent me.' I'll send you out on the street advertising." I kidded him.

"Right." There was a sour look on his face when I looked back. He'd figured out that I was fantasizing and he didn't find it funny.

"Don't you like the idea? Can't you just picture it? This great big drunk guy comes rolling up, -shoulders as wide as that." I sketched a four foot width in the air. "Drop that rag, slave, and grab your ankles. It's just outside of the tavern and the women grab their kids and hustle them inside, quick. Our customer pulls out his dick, eleven inches long and thicker than my gunstock. Then he bangs you so hard, it lays you flat out. He flips me my dollar.Well, that's a start," I concluded. "Just need to find four more customers and I can have my first beer of the evening."

"That would require a bit more cooperation than you're likely to get from me, I'm afraid."

"You mean you want me to keep you to myself? Exclusive?" I asked sweetly. "Want to be my little boyfriend?"

He didn't say anything to that and for the next couple of minutes I was preoccupied where we came out of the woods. There were a pair of pigs down in a slough and someone had put fodder out for them and I was trying to spot if there was a farm there that they belonged to.

It was windy and the leaves rattled through the naked branches. I would rather have been going more slowly, but if there was a baby being born, it wasn't a good time to lag. Trouble was, we were still close enough to Arval's fort and I didn't know if his raiders would be out again after they got back. I made us walk thorough the trees when it would have been faster crossing the meadows, and I forced the pace.

"Are you going to get me to suck you off?" Mark came abreast me. "Is that what you want?"

"I might."

His eyes wandered up and down nervously, from my crotch to my face.

"You could do the other thing if you wanted to." He said uncertainly.

"I said we could talk about it when we get there."

"I know. But I just want to know what you're going to do."

"You ever cocksuck before, Mark?"

"No." His answer was short and definite.

"You even take a sniff of a prick, real close up, rub your nose on it?"

"No." Also a definite response.

"How about tasting cum? You ever taste your own cum at least?"

"Yes." A much milder answer.

"What did you think of the taste?"

"Salty."

"Gross?"

He drew his lips in together worriedly and didn't answer.

"Maybe I better do the other thing." I said. I used his words. "Ever had a cock in your ass?"

He shook his head silently.

"Don't you think it might be uncomfortable for you?" I asked.

"Yes, but even if it hurts. Even if... I mean, it's not going to damage me a lot. You can do that. I'll take the consequences."

"Bona fide virgin ass? I'm honoured." I shook my head ruefully. "Trust me, I'll be real careful with it. Okay?"

"You will?"

"Absolutely." I sighed.

"I can never tell if you're fooling around or not." he said. "I mean, I know you are, mostly. But I never let another man do anything like that to me before. I just want to find out what I've gotten myself into."

"It's so easy to get you going." I said. "You're the one keeps bringing the subject up. Another fuck? You're no big deal to me, Mark. I've fucked lots of guys and hope I get to fuck lots more. Sure, I'm really looking forward to shoving it into your ass end, but it's just a fuck, Mark. It's not like a declaration that you're really a queer asshole open to all comers forever afterwards. It's just shove it in and twenty minutes later, it's over, including wiping up the drips."

"I am making a big deal about it." He agreed with me, but that didn't put a stop to his nervousness.

"That's natural. It's something you never did before."

We didn't talk about screwing any more. We walked on until Mark started to look a little ragged with tiredness. Then I called a halt and while we sat on stones in a coppice out of the wind, we ate some of the dry pancake bread that I had had in my pack.

"How'd you get to be a mercenary, Eamon?"

"I killed a guy."

"How long ago?"

"About three years ago. Three years ago last spring."

"How'd it happen?" Mark's grey eyes were sober, worried almost.

"He came trying to rob the farm where I was staying. There were a bunch of them, you know, three guys. I was working there, so I figured I had to try to protect the place, and when he came running out of the shed, the farm wife tried to stop him, tried to take the chicken out of his arms. He knocked her down."

My voice got absent as I spoke, remembering. It was a bad memory, but not as bad as some. "When I went for him, he pulled a knife out. I turned it into his belly. I guess I scared him more than the farm wife did or he wouldn't have tried to use it on me. I still remember the way his belly felt. Just when my fist hit it, it was hard as a board..."

"Guarding reflex." said Mark softly.

"He didn't bleed so much. He fell down the edge of the yard and he laid there. And of course we had to try to round the chickens up, do what we could to clean up the mess the men made. We thought he'd take off. But he didn't."

I looked at Mark. "We shouldn't have left him in the yard. We didn't know what to do with him, so he lay there awhile. He was this great big, dirty guy. He drooled. I don't know why he drooled." I looked down at my boots and scuffed the dead leaves.

I looked up again, smiling awkwardly because I was ashamed."We took him into the barn a few hours later, and I took the knife out of his belly. Then he did bleed. I wish he had bled to death. He didn't bleed so much. It was into his guts, so there was nothing we could do. You know what happened?"

"You had no antibiotics and no way to seal the wound and still allow for drainage." Mark said.

"He got sicker and sicker. Crying in pain. And it was nearly three days before he died. Shit." I shook my head. "I hope I die clean and sudden. Not like that. I'd hate to die like that."

I gave another sigh. "The whole point of that story was that they sent word around in the summer and asked me did I want to come out and join a militia they were trained in Haubeck, because they figured I was a man, old enough to train, after I'd killed the fellow in defending the farm. That was how I began, as a mercenary in Haubeck."

"I see." he said. He didn't sound judgemental, either that I had killed the guy, nor that I had been squeamish, when I'd watched him the long days dying. He just kept looking at me, as if I interested him. We had finished eating and Mark had gotten a little pinker while I told my story. He looked like he had gotten his breath back enough to go on.

I stood up. "Come on." I said. "We'd better go see if we can get you to Stanton Creek in time to help out with your baby."

We were two days late.

The woman who opened the door of the farmhouse was plain. She was about thirty years old and she hadn't put up her hair. It fell in scraggles on either side of her face. She was pot bellied, not pregnant. "Mark!"

"I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner." His eyes went straight to her stomach. "How did it go?"

"I got through it.." was all she said.

"Where is John? When will he come back?"

The woman's husband was out logging. That was the first thing Mark asked her about.

"I sent word to him, Missy went down to Stanton Village for me. So he's going to know we're both alright."

"He still won't be back for another five days? You're going to be alone? You're sure?"

The cuckold husband was conspicuous by his absence.

"Missy wasn't here to help you either?"

The woman shook her head. But by now she was taking note of my presence in her house. She looking meaningfully at me. "Who is that?" she asked

"Oh!" Mark turned around like he was surprised I had followed him into the house. "His name is Eamon. He's a mercenary."

"You've got a mercenary with you now?"

"I missed the birth because I got waylaid by Arval's Riders." He told her grimly. "They had me locked up in a storeroom at their fort for six days."

"Oh Mark!" The woman threw me a pleased look. "I'm glad you've got a mercenary. You need one now. You have to do so much travelling."

Mark was more interested in the baby than in explaining who I was. He was probably avoiding telling her what our bargain was. He crossed to the bassinet that stood near the wood stove. The baby was fucking tiny. He picked it up in his big hands confidently.

"Eating well?" He asked. "Any milk come in?"

The woman nodded. "She's a girl." She walked with a funny rolling walk to stand proudly beside the man. Mark looked at her, then at me, then her again. "How are you, Mary Ellen?"

Oh, brother...His voice was so warm it made me itch. I didn't want to hear him cooing at the woman.

"Oh, I'm okay." she said unenthusiastically.

"I'd like to get a better look at her, but first, I want to go in the bedroom with you." Mark said to Mary Ellen.

I couldn't believe it. What a horny fucking bastard Mark was! That woman was two days after giving birth and he wanted in to her cunt. Just the thought turned my stomach. It would be all stretched and... "I'm going to take a short walk." I mumbled.

I walked around the woman's farmyard with my hands in my pockets. She had a little, reasonably well kept place. The biggest building was the byre. It had a loft and a work area and five stalls for the cattle. It was bigger and sturdier than the house, which was just a room and a half cabin.

I wish I had a place like this. I thought. I could have had, if Arval had paid me my two cows. I walked around it a couple of dozen times.

By the time I tapped on the house door again it was over and all clothes had been replaced. Mark was sitting opposite her. They nodded at me absentmindedly and went on talking.

"Now, I want you to make really sure that you eat well." He told her. "Remember, you're eating for Jennifer still, not just yourself. After the vegetables run out, you can boil pine needles for the vitamin C. You know how to do this?"

He went on and on like this, telling her to keep the baby on her milk and how to take care of herself and to take care of the baby. You'd think nobody in the world had ever had a baby before, this one was so special. "You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of her. Don't wear yourself out..." yada yada yada

I can't believe it, I thought. I'm jealous.

Later Mark walked outside with me. "She asked us to stay overnight. I told her we'd sleep in the byre."

"We?" I questioned. "You're sleeping in the byre with me?"

"Yeah." It was like he was surprised to be asked. "She could maybe fit one of us in the house, but I figured you wouldn't want to be sent out to the barn alone." I looked at him trying to figure it out. "You said it was too cold out in the woods. And you said I could wait until we got here before you demanded payment. Well, it'll be warm in the byre."

"She going to loan us a lantern?"

"I'll ask."

I was in a better frame of mind after that. Puzzled, but better. Mark wasn't entirely taking me for an idiot, and making use of me as an unpaid bodyguard. Dinner in the woman's cabin was a confusing affair. She laid down, I cooked it and Mark put on a pair of work gloves and dragged a big stack of cord wood for her fire up against the house and some inside, so she wouldn't have to go out for it. He was quite the sissy, wearing work gloves. He wasn't trying to toughen his hands up, like would have been sensible, but protecting them so they would stay soft instead.

The woman was worn out, I guess. She didn't mind Mark going out to the barn. She got herself up to get him some spare blankets and we went out across the darkened yard.

I surprised Mark by making two beds in the straw. After glancing at me, he laid himself down with a groan. "I hate that, coming too late to help with the birth. She wasn't even in labour yet when I set out."

"She got by okay without you." I shrugged. "Even her husband didn't worry that nobody was there."

"All the more reason I should have been here."

"Like it was your fault?"

"No." He smiled wryly. He rolled over on his side and faced me. "Eamon?"

"What."

"You said we'd talk about your payback when we got here."

"What do you want to do?" I asked him.

"I don't want to do anything. But I won't refuse to pay up. You got me out of a real bad situation. I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

"That so?" I asked.

Mark was damn good looking once he had cleaned up. He had a firm jaw, and gorgeous eyes. He was tall and wide shouldered. He wasn't all muscle the way some guys I knew were, but he was strong,and he had a lot of grit beside. There was experience in his face. Maybe he wasn't a fighter and he was a dick when it came to women, but to me he was as sexy as hell, lying sprawled on his side like that. He nodded at my question.

"You sore?" I asked.

"Sore?"

"You know, stiff, aching. You're moving like you're sore."

"Yeah, I got a few aching muscles." He agreed.

"Take your shirt off." I told him.

He sat up and slowly started taking it off. He had a smoothly muscled torso beneath. There was no extra fat on him. His nipples were a darker hue of pale brown. On his chest there were just a couple of grey hairs sprinkled in the brown. "Just my shirt?" He asked.

"Just your shirt." I repeated.

He put the garment aside.

"Now lie down on your face."

He started to move to do so. "Don't you want me to take my pants off? Open them up, anyway?" He paused almost lying on his stomach.

"You could undo the top button if you want." I said. "But I'll do anything else, if I need it."

He undid the button and then laid down on the brown blanket. I came over and straddled him. I sat on his ass with my knees down. I felt the muscular cheeks contract and spread. I reached down and put my hands on his bare shoulders.

Mark sighed.

I began kneading, rubbing and digging into the muscles on his back and neck, working at them in a massage.

"Your hands are rough, Eamon." He said unsteadily. But he laid quite still, relaxing, accepting the contact. I'm not sure if he could feel my hard on or not. I kept it tilted away from him.

That's what I did, just sat on his ass and massaged his shoulders and back. His skin was maybe softer than a younger guy's skin would have been, but it covered the same muscular curves and planes. I dug my thumbs and fingertips in deep working from his waist up and then down again.

"The way I see it," I said, "If I took a knife and held it to some guy's throat and I said, 'Let me fuck you, or if you don't, I'm going to kill you.' Then that would be rape, right?" My voice was slow and aimless.

"Right."

"So if I give a guy a choice, let me fuck you, or else you're dead, then I'm trying to rape him?"

"Yeah."

"That was the choice you had." I said. "Let me fuck you or let Arval's kids beat you to death. If I fuck you, that's what it would be, rape."

"I don't quite see it like that." Mark looked up over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of my face. He sounded puzzled.

"Well, that's the way I see it. If it's not rape, then it's extortion." I told him. "That's why I'm not going to fuck you."

For a second he laid still. Then it sunk in and he jerked up."You're not going to fuck me?!" He struggled. I got off. "After all that and you're not going to fuck me!! I don't believe this! You came all this way with me? For nothing?"

He sat bare chested and stared at me, mouth agape. His eyes stayed on me. I shrugged.

"You're jerking me around." he said. "You're kidding me. You kept telling me before that you'd like to make me take it up the ass. You weren't joking about that! Were you?"

"No, I wasn't."

There was a long pause.

"You really aren't going to make me pay up?"

I laughed. "You sound disappointed."

There was another long pause after that. I went and lay down on my blankets. It was maybe two whole minutes, maybe three before he said, very softly. "Yes, I am."

"Well then," I said. "If you want to pay me you can sing that song for me."

"Goodnight Irene?"

I nodded. When he Mark started to sing it, I lay back. His voice wavered at first and I knew he was self conscious. His voice was deeper when he sang. He sang low and sorrowful.

Some folks live in the country

And some folks live in town

Wherever I go, one thing I know

I like to have a woman around.

Some folks marry for good looks

And some folks marry for money

I married a little country girl,

Because she called me "Honey."

Irene, Goodnight Irene,

Irene goodnight

Goodnight Irene, Goodnight Irene,

I'll see you in my dreams.

Whales sleep in the ocean.

And fishes sleep in the sea

When the night starts falling

My bed's the place for me

Birds sleep in the treetops

Hares sleep underground

Horses sleep in meadows

And my wife sleeps around..

When he sang that last line, it made me think of Mark with the woman in the house who'd just had the baby, but I was thinking of it as being more about Mark than the woman. His voice died away.

MARK Part 3 of 4 By Ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca

DISCLAIMER: If you are offended by gay sex or if you are underage, please do not read this story.

Your comments, questions, criticism and requests for missing installments are welcomed by the author at Ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca

When he sang that last line, it made me think about the woman in the house with that baby, only it was more like the song was about Mark than it was about her. His voice died away.

"Thanks, Mark." I said.

"Anything else you want?"

"That's okay." I said. "That's enough."

"You're a nice guy, Eamon." he said softly.

"Yeah, fuck." I said. I wrinkled my nose dismissingly.

There was a pause. He gave a laugh suddenly. "There I was, purely terrified and resolutely screwing my courage up to submit to your depraved appetites and you won't even accept it! Talk about a let down."

I shrugged.

"I was all set to play the role of helpless sex object, keep my word and submit my trembling body in payment..." He shook his head, amazed. "But you did say you want my ass." He finished frowning,

"I'm taking you back to Green Valley tomorrow?" I said.

"Yes."

"Probably we should go to sleep so we can get an early start."

Mark was looking at me steadily, a curious twist to his expression. "If I offered you freely, if I said that I wanted to..." he got stuck.

"If you wanted to what?" I rolled over, a little belligerent."You're used to getting your rocks off regular, and you want me to do it, see how well a guy can get you off?"

"I don't know..." His smile was painful. "Well, it's true. It scares me. I've spent a lot of years wondering what it would be like even. I don't want to say what I would want, because I don't know. But I do know I want to... at least find out what it's like."

"Fags give better blow jobs than girls." I stated.

"Do they?"

"Yeah. Women never do it tight enough. With another guy, he knows what it takes to make a prick feel good, because he's got one himself."

"I wasn't asking you for that."

"You want to give a blow job to me?"

"I think so."

I opened my eyes wide. He lay with his eyes fixed on me, like as if I fascinated him. His expression wasn't hard or scared any more. I lay opposite in the light of the lantern, staring back.

"You got any rubbers?" I asked at last.

"Yes." He got up at once and went to the black bag of his. He dug briefly and had them out. I had expected that he wouldn't have them, of course. I waited disbelieving it until he held out a couple of little square packets. Then I levered myself up and took them.

"Alright." I said.

Mark knelt facing me, half on my blanket and I drew his trousers down. He kept his eyes fixed on me so carefully, it was like as if he was trying to memorize me. I stripped him bare. His big handsome cock stood up, and when it was erect, it was tall. His pubic hair was grizzled. It had more grey than his chest had. He let me pull his knees up, let me slide the garments away.

When he was naked, I pushed him over on his side. I leaned over him. I ran my tongue around his shaft, not onto the head, but below it and then working down onto his balls. The sharp savory smell of a man came to me. Mark started to breath in gasps straight off.

I lay there, licking his balls and slid my hands under him. I didn't work my fingertips into his crack, but I kneaded on his bum, squeezing upward gently. When I looked up at his face, his mouth was agape. His eyes were big. He looked amazed.

"Like this? A faggot mouth on your cock?" I asked him. My voice came out rough. "Like the dirty faggot teenager, giving you a blow job?"

My hand slid up around. I took one of his nipples and pinched, tweaking the small hard nub gently.

"Yeah, you're gonna fuck my faggot mouth, Mark." His skin was burningly warm in the coolness of the barn. The roughness of his hair covered thighs scraped my cheeks. "Feel my faggot tongue licking your balls? Feel my hungry slobbering faggot mouth greedy for the taste of you?"

His hands came up suddenly, the first move that he had made, and he laid them on my head. He didn't grab. His fingers were hooked and just resting in my hair as if he was still too scared to actually take the grip he wanted to. His arms were stretched stiffly towards me.

"Want to feel a faggot making love to your ass?" I demanded. I took his knees and pushed them back. I rolled him back. He was quivering. It wasn't fear. He gave a groan. He caught his own knees to hold them back and let me at him. The tip of his hard prick had a glistening bead of pre-cum on it.

I wrapped on hand around it. I licked the fingers of my other hand. I found the wrinkled web of his asshole with wet fingers.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, you got a beautiful asshole. I want to touch your asshole. Lemme rub your asshole, Mark. All your women, do they like to make love to your ass? Do they like to smell it?"

I kissed and suckled and bit at his thighs close beside his opening. I licked his balls some more and all the while, I rubbed his prick with one hand and his asshole with three wet fingers. I didn't try to put my fingers inside. His asshole was responding to me, opening and contracting, but it was a virgin ass. The opening wasn't really big enough for a finger. It opened up easily at the push of my finger but not wide enough.

Mark was groaning. His head rolled. "Uhhhh.. Eamon, are you? Ohhhh..." He was panting so hard that he was incoherent. I didn't know what his broken words were asking.

"I want to feel this." I said. Hurriedly I started pulling my shirt open. I only let go of him with one hand at a time, keeping up the rubbing without stopping. He was pushing his ass up towards my fingers. Instinctively, he was pushing to get more sensation.

When I had my shirt off, I bent forward. I took his shaft and I rubbed it against my chest. I rubbed it against my nipples and into the hair. My chest was nowhere near developed enough to make a split to rub him into, but I dragged his prick across the surface, and I licked my hand so that I was jerking him off against me.

"Fuck my faggot mouth, Mark. Let me feel your big fat prick. Let me feel how much meat you got. You want to give it to me? You ready to put it into my faggot mouth? Man, I love your meat. Gimme that cock, Mark. Face fuck me."

I took the rubber up. My motions were swift and jerky. I slathered his prick with a wet palm. I ripped open the condom packet. I squeezed the head of his dick.

"Do it! Do it!" he moaned.

I rolled the rubber down his prick and dived on it. I took it tight and thick in one gulp, right down my throat, all the way. I took it right to the back of my mouth. His long prick plunged in so far I could swallow on it. His legs locked around my shoulders. I bobbed up and down furiously.

Mark's hands pawed at me helplessly. He didn't know what to do. They tried to push my head down farther, but my lips had bottomed out into a bush of curly hair. He patted my shoulders, slid over my ears. He flung his head back. His mouth was wide.

I sucked his prick hard. I dived up and down on it, ramming it full depth with every stroke into my extended throat. I wriggled my pants off at the same time. I thumbed his responsive asshole wetly. He was groaning so hard that his soft choking cries sounded half like he was crying.

"Ohhh... So good! Fuck, Kid, feels so good. I didn't know!" His heels slid on the smoothness of my back. "You got it.. God! You got it all the way!"

His asshole was begging for it. I let my thumb slide in, first only a centimetre, but then every time, I slid it deeper until his virgin ass was taking my thumb.

"Uhhh..! Eamon!" He groaned. His head rolled back until we were meeting eyes, across his chest and belly. His face was puckered up with pleasure. His hands came back down and his fingers caught and caressed the sides of my face. When I slid up to the top of his prick, he grabbed me and he pulled. His prick popped out of my mouth and I crawled forward.

He didn't seem to be recoiling so I caught his mouth with mine. There was a momentary flinch as he pulled away, but then his open mouth was meeting mine and our tongues met. He sucked hard as he kissed, pulling the kiss tighter. My hands groped over him. I squeezed his pectorals, farther down, slid over his balls and cupped them.

I broke the kiss. "You want to cum, Mark? You want me to make you cum? Look at that." Kneeling between his thighs, I rubbed my own prick furiously. The two organs jutted up side by side, one in a rubber, one not. I used one hand on each of them. I rubbed the heads together. He was gripping my hips tightly.

"Ready for an ass fuck, Mark? Want to give it to the faggot? Think you could slam it into my guts? Come on, Mark, give it to me."

I turned myself around, lifting one leg over so that I was back to him, astraddle his thigh. I got up, reaching under to tilt his prick towards me. I backed down. I felt his hardness butt up into the cheeks of my ass, I felt it press my crack wide and set thick and moist against my asshole.

"Fuck me, Mark. Fuck my faggot asshole." I sat down on him, letting my weight force my hole open. His long prick pressed upward rigid. A grunt broke out of him as I slid deep down. I felt my ass contracting rhythmically. I let my weight go down until I was sitting on his hips.

"You're fucking a guy's ass, Mark. You really got it inside a man's ass. How does it feel to fuck a faggot?"

A long shuddering groan was my answer. When I started to raise and lower myself, he gasped, "Tight!"

"Too tight? No, you like it. Yeah." I squeezed with my ass muscles deliberately. I reached down, below my own balls and found his. I cupped them and rolled them in my fingers, all the while squatting up and down to provide the motion. I saw beads of precum well up from my own cock.

Another moan came out of Mark.

"Fuck me!" I urged him.

When I went forward, down to my knees he came with me. His belly was hot and moist with sweat against my back. He locked his arms around me and dragged himself up like this. I crouched with my knees in the straw and my head down. He was breathing like a bull. He drew back slowly and then battered forward in one hard stroke.

"Give it to me, Mark. Let me have it! Fuck me like a faggot!"

"Oh, Kid..." He groaned.

I was reaching under, playing with his balls, scrabbling at his thighs. I was rolled up almost in a ball. Stroke after stroke,he pounded into me. The man was clinging to my hips so tightly that his fingers were biting in and hurting. My asshole felt hugely full with his thick, thrusting shaft. My precum dripped on my wrist.

He started to cum. A low animal moan rose from him as he ground forward. He pushed so hard that the straw slipped under my knees. I felt his body twitch; the small twitch in his pumping cock and big shudders that were carried to me through his belly. I felt the gust of his breath as he exhaled. He stayed frozen, sobbing for breath as he shot his load.

I let go of his balls and grabbed my own prick. I was yanking on myself, when he put his hands on my back and slowly started to pull away.

"Don't." I gasped. "Gimme a minute."

He stayed still. His warm hands still rested just below my ribs. I thrummed on my cock. His weight and his smell were still close and hot against me. I masturbated myself. With Mark's cock still jammed up into my ass, I was only a few strokes from cumming. Deep breaths shivered through my warm body. I felt my balls contract and set my teeth. A moment later the white cum spilled up onto my knuckles. I sagged, open mouthed.

"You done?" His quiet voice came hoarse behind me.

"Yes."

He drew out slowly. I relaxed to let his prick slide out. It had gotten dry because of the rubber. It pulled painfully. I turned around grinning crookedly.

He was holding his prick protectively, two handed. He looked amazed. He backed away from me. An uncertain smile flickered onto his mouth. I thought he was embarrassed when he bent his head and began to work the rubber off his prick.

He sat on his blanket and only glanced up for a second when hesaid. "I thought you wanted to do that to me, do that the other way around?"

"Did you want me to?"

"I.." He glanced up quickly again. "I guess I thought you'd show me how to bring you off. I'm just surprised. God, it was good! But you did it yourself."

I shrugged. "I know the way to do it myself." I said. "Or were you trying to pay me off? Is that it?" I frowned. "You said you wanted to find out what it was like. We're you really trying to pay me off still?"

"I think I still owe you something." said Mark.

"I said you could forget it." I licked my fingers of the white cum on the knuckles to clean up. His awkwardness was annoying me. Of course, I thought, what did I expect? Screwing around with a straight guy? That'd he'd get all cosy afterwards?

I shrugged again and turned around for the blankets. "Goodnight, Mark." I said. "I think I'm going to sleep now."

"Goodnight Eamon." he said quietly behind me. "And thanks for the good time."

The next morning was a lot colder and we didn't get off to an early start. Mary Ellen's cows wanted milking, so Mark wanted to do that before we left. I was glad to see that he really wanted to do it for her, rather than so that he could have some of the milk.

While Mark did her milking, I did some other work for her, moved a bunch more of the wood and broke some of it up, and brought up a couple of pails of water and shovelled out the stalls. That took us until after seven. It was nearly eight and light out before we got under way. Mark's farewell of the woman was restrained.

"Take care, and don't hesitate to send word if you need me." he said. They didn't kiss or anything like that. They didn't touch. He held the baby for a moment and put her back in the bassinet, smiled down, nodded at Mary Ellen and then we were off.

As we travelled I thought about the way he treated the woman and the baby. Oh, he was warm enough, but he was distant somehow too. I wondered if that was my being around. I'd pictured him having a bunch of women and maybe a wife as well in Green Valley, but was Mary Ellen his only mistress, his girl friend? Did she matter to him? I wanted to ask him, but I couldn't ask that, because I had the uncomfortable awareness that it was jealousy behind my question. If I didn't want to make some claim on Mark, I wouldn't have given a damn how many women he had.

After we had been walking an hour it started to warm up. Mark was doing really well that day. He showed no tiredness at all. "Eamon," he asked. "Where are you planning on going after we get to Green Valley?"

"I really don't know." I said. "I haven't made up my mind."

"No idea where you're wintering yet? You have to winter somewhere."

"I'll find a place." I said. "It isn't December yet."

"You looking for work?"

I glanced at Mark.

"Remember what Mary Ellen said? That she thought you were a mercenary I had hired on to protect me?" Mark spoke with a trace of hesitance. "It's not a bad idea she had. I could use you." I considered. So Mark was offering me work. I could use work. He could use me. But with the mixed feelings I had about him, I wasn't so sure I wanted to be used by Mark.

"Would the men of Green Valley want you hiring me on, given that I've worked with Arval's raiders?" I avoided the first issue.

"I think they would." Mark tackled that uncertainty eagerly."It would be kind of like hiring you away from them, a good thing. They'd much rather have you working with us, than maybe going back with them. And since you bailed me out, I figure that'll show them you can be trusted. And you come with useful knowledge of Arval's fort too, so I think they'd find you valuable."

"What kind of pay and conditions here were you thinking about?"

"I can't really support you..." he said slowly. "I'm not that rich. I haven't had to go hungry too often yet, but I don't see any way that I could hire you on my own and pay you wages like you seem to merit. Not full time mercenaries wages. I only make some trips. Every few days maybe. It really depends. So I couldn't afford to pay you for more than the trips you make."

"Then you don't have enough work for me." I said flatly.

"I don't. But at Green Valley maybe we do. If you'd be willing to hire on there, or take some agricultural work.."

"Nobody hires on after the harvest." I said. I said it a little more sharply than I meant. His half offer was puzzling me. If he didn't want to hire me, what was he driving at? He wanted to get me hired out to Green Valley and get me tied up like a loose end?

Maybe he didn't know what he meant either. He didn't say anything more.

We took a back road to get to Green Valley. We joined this road about noon, after cutting across country and taking small paths. Mark noticed after awhile that I was ignoring him, my gaze going in careful circles, from my feet and then around on the surrounding hills.

"Eamon, what's the matter?"

"A lot of people came this way." I said. "Recently."

"How do you know?"

I pointed. "Tracks. These were laid down after the ground froze. See? They only scuffed the surface."

"Mounted?"

"No. The ground's not that frozen. If there were new hoofprints they would have cracked the dirt where it was frozen."

After we walked on for about another minute, Mark spoke again."What day is it?"

"What day is it? I don't know."

"It's Wednesday. I think, it's Wednesday. Does that sound right to you? On Wednesday there's a little market in Green Valley. It could be that, you know. We get quite a lot of people come in Wednesday and maybe Saturday."

"You mean just farmers? With trade stuff?" I relaxed a little. I didn't give up on my wariness entirely, but I figured he was most likely right. A dozen farmers with baskets of beets, turnips and field corn to swap would have made about that much of a mark on the road. One of the footprints I had seen had been right small, like a farmer had brought his son or daughter with him, so I hopefully concluded that, as usual, I was looking for trouble when it wasn't there.

I stopped in the road, about half a mile short of Green Valley. "How long would it take you to get home from here?"

"About fifteen minutes." Mark was startled.

"Then, if you don't mind, I'm going to leave you to go in on your own. I don't much want to meet the men from Green Valley. I never fought them, but it they know I was with Arval for awhile.." I shrugged.

"No!" said Mark. "I want you to come on back with me. Look, Eamon, letting me sing you a song is no kind of a repayment for what you did. You saved me from a hell of a bad time. I want to at least do something more."

"What could you do?" I said. "You told me you couldn't afford to pay me. I don't think there's anything you could do for me."

"But I want to..."

We were talking there when the sound of rifle fire came carrying from over the hill ahead, sharp in the frosty air.

"Shit!" I stepped out of the centre of the road and caught Mark's arm. We both stood still listening, tensed like bird dogs with up flung heads.

The rifle fire was repeated, three short series of shots, two to four each time. I knew that sound. I'd heard it so often. Mark didn't need me to tell him that it was men exchanging fire. There was some kind of a skirmish going on at Green Valley. I didn't think that the tracks on the road had been made by farmers going to market now.

"Okay." I said. "I will see you all the way back to your gate. But now, come on this way!" I started straight back away from the town, on the road.

"No! We got to go see." Mark jerked an urgent hand towards the shots. "I've got to see what's going on!"

"Like hell you do! If we go that way, we could get shot at. You want to walk into a frigging battle? Mark, you're not even armed."

He had gone a little pale with his excitement. "I'm going to go see, with or without you. Please come with me and protect me."

I couldn't believe it. Mark was so fucking stupid! Sure, the people in Green Valley were his people, but there are some things it doesn't pay to be curious about. Watching guys get shot at was one of them. When there is gunfire going on, the important thing to do is to get where it can't hit you.

Mark went to tug his bag from my shoulder.

"No!" I said angrily. "This way, then." I jumped the ditch. He trailed after me. I wasn't about to let him go alone and I wasn't about to let him go running straight into the middle of it. I took him sideways, across the fields, circling around closer to Green Valley.

He knew the fields around here, probably, and I didn't, so it would have made more sense for him to lead. But I didn't trust his sense not to lead us by the quickest and most open route, which would get us killed. So I took him around, darting from hedge to hedge, loping instead of running. There was a hill in front of us, which was good, because it was cover. I made us stay behind it. We heard shots again and again.

I took him to a vantage on the hill top which turned out pretty good. There were the towers of Green Valley, linked by a wire fence. We were looking down from above on everything between us and them, on several groups of men, crouching low, with their backs to us, squatting behind fences and walls and pressed flat in the hollows in the ground that provided cover. I saw two men lyingin the open, and either they were dead or trying to look like it.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" I murmured. "It's Arval."

I couldn't figure out what was going on. They were trying to get into Green Valley and since there was no one even as close as the wire fence and plenty of return fire from the two nearest towers, they weren't having any luck. But the gunfire was being exchanged in more than one direction and I had to figure that one out.

"What's going on?" Mark demanded.

"Those are Arval's guys...and those guys. Look, there's Joe. I wonder how hungover he is right now? Those two... I bet those two guys, down in the trees with the horse behind them, those are guys from Green Valley. See? They're firing at Arval."

"What about the men down in the field? Can you see? How bad are they hit?"

I shook my head. "Don't worry. Anyway, from their position they've got to be Arval's guys, who were trying to make a rush in closer."

"God! I wish I had binoculars! I want to see if they're dead or not!"

"Believe me," I said. "If you had ever seen a man shot to death close to, you wouldn't have wanted to."

Mark turned his head sharply, made as if to say something and then said. "How can you get me closer?"

"Closer! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

The gunfire had grown more sporadic. It had slowed down to almost nothing again. I didn't like that. Arval's men were moving, but not forward, sideways.

"Mark." I said, "If they retreat, they'll be most likely coming this way. I want to get out of here."

He didn't answer. "Why aren't they firing...?"

"Come on, Mark."

"They're reloading." He was worried about the two Green Valley guys with the horse.

"They're out of ammunition, I think." I shook my head.

"Christ!"

"Yeah..." I could see why Mark was mesmerised. I found it hard to tear myself away. We could see it so clearly. Arval's guys were squirming in, using the hedge and the ditch to get nearer. A rifle boomed and we could even see the two guys jerk where the bullet had hit the dirt between them. "Arval's guys want that horse, I bet."

"They're going to kill the men." Mark exclaimed.

"Looks like it."

"Oh Jesus, Eamon..!" He swung his face around desperately. His voice was pleading.

"You want me to do something about it?"

He nodded mutely.

I swung my rifle down and cocked it. With the sight everything jumped closer. The first thing I had in my sight was the green back of a raider amid the yellow grass. I moved the rifle a fraction higher, to grass just above his shoulder. The shot blasted out painfully loud. The rifle stock butted my shoulder. I swung the rifle over.

The next man I caught in my sight was Arval. I saw his red beard, his open shouting mouth as his head jerked around. For an instant the cross hairs quartered his face. I kept it there, even as he started to scramble up. I squeezed the trigger lightly. The rifle he was raising dropped. His face shattered, a true vivid red, much brighter than his beard.

Sick stomached, I swung the rifle farther. Arval's men had no cover. They were hugging the ground frozen. Only the green-shirted man I had fired at first was moving. He was up, running scrambling madly away. I could have hit any of them, as I had hit Arval. I placed the shots, two, three more above the cringing shoulders before the yelling men bolted.

While they were running, I rolled over behind the crest of the hill. Mark had slithered down. He had his black bag now and was hugging up against it.

"I think I killed Arval." I said tersely. "Move. -That hill."

Mark did as I told him. We ran crouching. I kept him in front of me. There were two more, widely spaced shots from the tower, but because we were behind the hill, we could not see what they were firing at. Fifteen yards over, there was a fence with long brittle grass and weeds to create soft cover. We plunged behind this.

"Are they okay? The two men? Did you scare the raiders back?"

"Yeah, I scared them off. They'll be retreating. Fire from behind, they had to retreat." My shoulder was pushed up against Mark's chest as we crowded below the fence together. His long fingers were gripping the sleeve of my coat as he crouched behind me. "Let's keep moving." I said tensely. "They'll have to come around, and then they'll be behind us, if we don't watch out."

"Okay." Mark was breathing hard. "You say what to do."

"Up, up here."

We were visible for another moment while we got to a clump of trees, but the raiders weren't in sight yet. There were between fifteen to twenty of them. They wouldn't all come this way. If they were smart they would fan out. It would be one rifle against fifteen.

MARK Part 4 of 4 By Ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca

DISCLAIMER: This story is an original work of gay erotic fiction. If you are underage or if you are offended by material of this nature, please do not read this story. Your comments, criticism, questions, flames, objections, flattery and requests for missing installments are all welcomed by the author at Ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca

When we got to the next bit of cover, we could see down into the pasture in front of the Green Valley fence again. The horse was galloping riderless in the open across the grass. A knot of men were swarming up the slope to where Mark and I had first crouched. I couldn't see where the rest of Arval's raiders were, nor the two men who had been with the horse.

"We're fucked. They're coming through here." I said. There had been a gully on the other side. I had hoped they would go into the gully. They would have been more protected there. But there were at least six of them working their way up the ridge towards us, some humping on their bellies in the grass, a couple running low and stirring the weeds and scrub to my right. They were going to meet, just about around where Mark and I were trying to hide.

Mark didn't look panicked. His gaze was steady, although his eyes were wide. I jerked my head to the left. "Get over there, get down and don't move. No matter what."

He stared a half second longer before he broke away. I didn't stop to watch him get into place. I knew he'd make it safe. He'd stay safe there, too, as long as I kept the raiders from coming up this rise.

I didn't pick a target. I sighted into a bunch of weeds that had been swaying unnaturally and fired. I was rewarded with a scream. I hadn't hit him. I was also rewarded with a crisp staccato. Bullets flew on both sides of me. I fired again, this time at the flash, not waiting to focus the cross hairs. Something in the grass lurched and stopped moving. More shots cracked.

"C'mon, you bastards. Go right.." I breathed. I aimed for a rock.

The first time I'd started firing, I'd aimed high. I didn't want to butcher a bunch of men in the open. Now I was shooting to kill. I couldn't see my targets. They couldn't see me. We were stalemated. I had them pinned, but they had me pinned too. I moved the sights swiftly, swinging them back and forth. I was almost too close to use it. "Go right, you fuckers. You can go right. I won't shoot you if you go right." I breathed. My heart was pounding against the stiff ground under me.

They fired again before I did. I cringed deeper. Bullets ripped the earth about three feet to my right. Face crushed into the grass, I tried to spot where the flashes were coming from, to pick exactly which bit of cover they were shooting from. I made a guess. I fired once. Their shooting stopped.

I threw a glance behind me. I wanted to see if Mark was safely down where I'd told him. I didn't see him. Good. My gaze was back, scanning the hill below me, almost instantly. They were firing uphill. That was harder than downhill. I waited for one of them to move.

The image of Arval, the brilliance of the blood that had flashed in my sight in the instant after I had shot him, came into my head, along with the sudden clutch of nausea in my belly. I'd killed Arval. I sucked a deep breath, fighting the nausea down. Shoot to kill. That's right. Scare these guys, I thought. C'mon, break cover, you bastards!

More shots. I didn't move. These were hitting the hill below me, not particularly close. Someone was trying to draw my fire. I grinned wolfishly. All the better. He was probably behind that shock of dead goldenrod. Soft cover. And he was wasting his ammunition.

Suddenly, another shot. Too close. I rolled over and all hell broke loose. I saw Mark. He was in the pasture, thirty yards down, right in the open, running madly towards the Green Valley fence. They saw him too. A man jerked up, the blue steel barrel of his rifle dark in the air as he swung it to bring it around behind. My shot popped either under his arm or in his chest.

The shots were crackling like fat spitting in a pan. Shots up the hill. Shots down. A man in the grass tumbled onto his side as my rifle swung over him. Mark was still running. He was skimming over the grass, farther and farther away, his bag hugged tight under his arm. I had to rear up. Dirt, kicked up by a shot, spattered my face in cold small clods. I couldn't stop firing. I couldn't let the men swing around and start firing into the field.

Thank you so fucking much, Mark. Yeah, you owe me one, you bastard. You want to repay me. You fucking take off, get me into this and then take off. The thoughts and fury that rose up in me were unfair. It wasn't as if he could have helped me by staying put. He wasn't armed. And by making his break for Green Valley like that, he had distracted the raiders. They had to move to get their rifles trained on him.

I fired at a man in pale tan clothes, who seemed to be running backwards in a crouch. He went down one way, his rifle went the other. There were two more rifles popping shots off towards me. Mark had made it away. I hugged the ground again, my head pressed into a rock. My rifle caught on the ground as I tried to drag it about. I had to move. They knew for sure exactly where I was firing from. I started to crawl.

Pain exploded. The shot and the sensation were simultaneous. The sudden burst of agony in my arm flung me down. The sound of the shot was quiet compared to the pain. It was a huge flame coloured swell that expanded through me and left me gasping and twitching and stunned with cold. I felt heat seeping swiftly and wetly on my legs. It wasn't blood. I had pissed myself. I tried to move, to roll over. It didn't work and only my fingers trembled.

There was nothing but cold and pain. Every second I got colder and colder. I knew the cold was shock. With an effort I rolled my head over. I saw a mangled dark mess where my upper arm had been. A little way above the elbow, white bone was staining pink with the streaming blood. There were footsteps running near me. The pain was more important than the steps. Tears squeezed through my eyelids. I knew it didn't matter who came. My arm was shattered.

The footsteps hesitated, a hoarse voice croaked without the meaning impinging. Vast cold was locked around amy trembling body. If the blood stopped running, I would live awhile. Then, unless someone who knew what they were doing helped me, probably by burning the wound clean, it would rot slowly and the rot would kill me.

I never knew what it was to be so cold. The footsteps had gone. Grass prickles were stuck into my nose and cheek. I think that I crawled. The roaring pain had me stuck to the ground like a half crushed insect. Slowly, leaving thick smears of fluid behind me, I crawled feeble inches. Then the cold made my trembling body too weak to even move. I lay shivering on the ground with my eyes sealed up. I didn't leak any more tears.

I was too dizzy to really understand where I was at first. I was somewhere warm, and weird sickly waves of dizziness were wandering through me, making it impossible to tell what I was feeling and what I imagined. I looked to see where I was and saw ceiling instead of sky.

White boards and unfinished cross beams. Warmth. I felt a dim need to puke, so deep down that it didn't bother me. I felt a woozy need to either giggle or cry. I did neither. I dragged my head about on the soft pillow until I could see the room I was in.

It was a cabin somewhere, a cabin that had a good stove, because the room was being kept stiflingly hot. There was boy, about thirteen, looming above the bed I was in. The boy had his sleeves rolled and was only wearing a shirt with no jacket. There was a woman and she was holding a bucket. The boy pushed a metal teaspoon towards my lips. It chinked through my teeth and was full of water.

I started to put it together. I was in Green Valley. I had to be. There was no where else close enough for me to be, and since I had been fighting Arval's raiders, it made sense that they would be willing to bring me here. My arm...

Yes, the pain was there, but held back, somehow buried in the dizzy stupidity that fogged my brain. I'm drunk. No, I'm not, I thought. They've given me a painkiller a lot more effective than booze. Had they cut my arm off?

I turned my head to look. It was there, wrapped neatly, a mummy arm, no sign of blood, the silhouette the same shape as what it should have been, lying between two wooden splints carved to match the shape of my muscles. I flexed my fingers and felt something, as if they were moving. I peered a little farther and saw my own fingertips, very white, digging at the air.

"More water, okay?" The boy leaned in and spoke earnestly. He put his teaspoon in my mouth again. I swallowed and spoke.

"Who did it? Who fixed it?"

"The doctor did it." the woman said.

"I think he wants Dr. Mark." said the boy.

"Dr. Mark?" I said.

He came into the room just a minute later. The woman brought him back. His thin careful fingers took my hand, checking me. "I bet it hurts." he said. "It was quite a reconstruction job, but you were lucky. The muscle wasn't as ripped up as all that. I think you'd better keep it in the splints for two months at least and more likely three, to give the bone a chance to knit. I've seen worse."

"You fixed it." I said.

"Yeah." he said. And then his voice dropped. "I'm real sorry that you got hurt. I think I owe you still another one now. You wouldn't have gotten mixed up in the fight if it wasn't for me."

My eyes drifted to my arm, still bewildered by the drugs in my system. "It's going to be alright?"

He nodded reassuringly. "I've got you on antibiotics, everything. It may not be as strong as it was before, but I'll stake my reputation, that you'll heal to have a useable arm. Believe me, I gave you my best work. It was the least I could do. We're going to take good care of you."

He was talking to me, the same way he talked to Mary Ellen, warm and steady, meeting my eyes. I blinked stupidly. His eyes were measuring me, searching my face.

Somehow I couldn't keep my mind or my gaze focused. It floated away. I stared at his mouth. There was just a little yellow bruise left on his cheek beside the corner of his wide thin lips. It was no bigger than my thumbnail. All the swelling had faded away. I had kissed that mouth and he had flinched and then locked me closer by sucking. That nose had been pressed up along side of mine. The nausea in me was a strange thing. The sensation was like blood hissing. That was the pain that I couldn't feel. And there was warmth and comfort, lazy and languid through my whole body. I felt like I could float up and around the room, drifting as gently as a leaf on water. I kept staring at his mouth and watching his words without hearing them.

Nurse Peter had his narrow shoulder in my armpit and was trying to help me through the door. I'd told him that I didn't need any help, just walking that short distance from the infirmary to Mark's house, but he had insisted on helping me, since it was my first walk outdoors in two weeks. I had felt the cold in the slush filled yard. I'd gotten my first good look at Green Valley, from the inside of their fence. Mark had part of one of the original houses for his home. He had the upstairs. He was standing on the staircase inside and smiling as Peter helped me carefully up the three steps and in the door.

"I think we can manage here." Mark said.

"Thank you, Peter." I liked the boy. He had spent almost the entire time I had been in the infirmary, sitting quietly in the room, so as to be at hand if I needed anything. He sat poring over some old medical textbooks, when he hadn't been looking after me. He was Mark's apprentice. He gave me a shy smile and slipped away.

Mark took my arm, and I wasn't sorry to have him steady me on the stairs. The loss of blood, which could not be replaced, had left me with a tendency to be light headed. He let go of me at the top and I got a look at his home.

I could see two rooms, scrupulously neat. There were books, regimented on a dresser between bookends, two beds with striped covers pulled to geometric exactness. It was a room that suited the man who had put the dozens of tiny precise stitches in my arm. He had done a good job. I was certain of that. I could use the fingers of that hand already.

As I sank down sitting on one of the beds, Mark spoke a little rapidly. "Well, here you are. Don't let us rush you into a decision, but try it out. I think you'll be comfortable here, at least enough to stick it out as my room mate until you don't need the splints. They won't be off until the spring. You can move on then if you still want to. Either way, it'll be warm enough here to spend the winter. So what do you think?"

I grinned. "I think you're trying to rush me into a decision."

He stopped dead. "You do?"

"Why are you putting me up here, in your own rooms?"

"Well, you still need somebody at hand to look after you, and then afterwards, if you agree to take the work, you'll be my mercenary, like I explained. It only makes sense to have you here." He went back to talking too fast.

"I didn't know if you'd have two beds up here."

"I had that one brought up for you last night." he said stiffly.

"So you didn't mean us to share?" I tweaked him gently.

He stopped dead again. His mouth opened. He paused. "I don't think it would look right, if we shared."

"Yeah, someone might think that you were lusting after my faggot ass." I was still grinning.

Mark smiled slowly. "They might."

"And they'd be wrong of course." I said, "Because frankly, the thought of being stuck at close quarters with a young faggot guy who finds you a turn on, that terrifies the life out of you."

I turned around and looked out of the window behind the bed. The yard was full of sun, brilliant on the puddling snow. There was a girl in a hooded jacket slowly herding a dozen brown and white cows along the road. I felt Mark get on the bed behind me. He took the curtain and twitched it closed and hid the girl and the cows from my sight. I turned around.

"Do you deliver a lot of babies?" I asked.

"Most of them, around these parts. There's a lot of women like to have me in attendance in case anything goes wrong. I do a lot of animals too. The farmers feel the same way. They call me in if there's a bad presentation or things have gotten held up."

"But you didn't deliver Mary Ellen's baby." I stated.

"No, I wasn't in time."

He had no idea why I was asking him those questions. It had never occurred to him that I could have been jealous, any more than it had occurred to me that he could have been rushing to the birth of a baby that wasn't his own child.

His arms were almost around me, but what he said was. "Don't think you have to get into anything with me, if you're not feeling up to it. I really don't intend to pressure you."

"Darn." I said. "I was hoping you'd rape me."

His thin-lipped, expressive mouth stretched into a smile. "I could probably manage it, with your arm out of commission like that."

"How about if I promise not to struggle hard enough to get in your way?" I suggested meekly.

He laughed and lowered his mouth to mine. He kissed me. I tilted up to meet him, savouring the warm firmness of his mouth, his moving lips.

He drew away with a sigh, only a few moments later. "You have no idea how strange that feels to me. I was brought up to think that not much worse could happen to a guy, than another guy treating him like a girl."

I had nothing to say to that. He came from another generation, another age. I just shrugged wryly.

He bent forward again. We went back to kissing. This time his hands moved slowly and carefully, opening the top buttons of my shirt and sliding over my collar. He undid it to the waist, pausing to meet my eyes. He undid the buttons on my fly.

"Eamon." He said, and his voice was hoarse. "You know, I'm sorry I didn't stay in cover during the fight, the way you told me to. You understand why I didn't do it? I will do whatever you say,if you agree to come on as my mercenary. That's a promise. But right then I had to go see if there was anyone who needed my help. That's my job."

I reached up, my one good hand and tugged clumsily at his shirt buttons. "I understand that. That's why you need me, you know. You put yourself in danger without me."

He met my eyes quickly, with a sudden smile. "Exactly. I need you to look after me."

He slid off the bed and took my trousers, drawing them down. His finger tips came forward lightly as he bared my skin and he touched my belly, my stiff cock and my thighs tentatively, and almost with amazement.

"God, but you are a hell of a fine looking man, Kid." He breathed. He slid his hand around my prick, tightened the loose grip and squeezed. We both inhaled hard with the sensation. His wrist shook as his hand vibrated in a minute motion. He kept pulling my boots and trousers off with his other hand. He went briefly to his knees beside the bed.

Eagerly and clumsily, he tugged the clothes off of me. With my clothing he was sure of himself, but with my skin he was hesitant. He stood up again to get my shirt and then worked more slowly to ease it over the casts. Kissing me, he put his tongue in my mouth. I caught him and pulled him close.

"Eamon.." He pushed me onto my back. "You like the kissing, Kid? How's this?" He put his mouth to mine and we fed urgently from each other's lips. My broken arm lolled stiffly across the blanket. With my other I dug down on his back, below his belt and pulled him in closer to me. I couldn't slide my hand far enough with him like that. I couldn't get my wrist under his belt.

"Jesus!" he moaned.

"Get your pants open, please!" I exclaimed.

Hurriedly, he popped his fly and belt open. My eyes clung to his fly, and were rewarded with the sight of his tall rosy headed prick. He flung his clothes on the floor. He held up his big, ready prick and cupped his balls, showing me what he had.

"I got a hard on for you." He breathed. "How's that, Kid? Just like you, just like a faggot, I've got a hard on for you."

"Why do you keep calling me kid?" I complained. I tried to reach for his prick. "My age is bothering you? Give me that thing."

"Oh no, Kid." He shook his head. "I love your age. You know how much of a turn on it is that a gorgeous young guy like you is hot for an old guy like me? I love the fact that you're a kid. You want me? You want this?"

He brought his prick closer. I groaned. I lurched up and brought my mouth towards his hips. With my mouth round, I could almost feel the perfect softness of the skin and the incredible firmness of the shaft. But Mark didn't let me get my mouth on his prick.

"No." he said. "This time, I'm the one doing it. Last time you did it."

We struggled. I kissed his throat as our bodies twisted. He laid me down again on my back. His grip was much harder, much surer of himself. His teeth met lightly, biting on my belly. He travelled down. His mouth was burningly warm. It engulfed my prick.

"Ohhhh..! Mark!" I breathed. I stroked his warm round shoulders and his head. The sight of his stretched out throat and his half closed eyes as he took my cock into his mouth made me moan. He looked so handsome. He slid his face down as far as he could.

Three, four deep wet bobs and then he gagged. There was a check in his motions as he controlled it and bobbed again. He couldn't take me very deep. He could only give head to the head of my prick. He kept trying. He tightened his lips. I felt the hardness of his teeth behind them. His tongue moved. He gulped again abruptly.

He came up panting. "I can't take it deep like you did. How do you take it so deep?"

"Practice." I told him. "You've got to have the angle right..That's okay. Don't stop!"

He didn't stop. He brought his hands in. One cupped and tugged and rubbed my balls. The other encircled the bottom of my shaft. Mouth on the top of my prick, hand extending the tunnel, he sucked and bobbed eagerly. His face jerked up and down. I was groaning and writhing, pushing my hips up to him. As he got more practice he took it deeper. Deep groans started to come out of me.

His hand slid down to my crack and found my asshole. He rubbed that. I tried to push onto his fingers. "More!" I begged. "Yes, Mark. Finger fuck my ass."

"Want me to fuck it with my dick, Kid?" He took his mouth off my prick to offer.

"Yes!"

He moved back and grabbed his pants from the floor. He had a condom in them, ready. His hands barely left me. While he got it on, he kept one hand on my prick, jerking at me, keeping me almost desperate with lust.

"How do we.." I started to roll over. He caught my hips and stopped me.

"No. Like this. I want to see your face." He knelt between my knees and lifted them up. I spread my thighs and let him drag me up. I felt his prick position itself, forcing my cheeks wide, butting against my asshole. Mark had his grey eyes fixed on my expression. His strong fingers bit my thighs as he held me ready. With one stroke, he slammed his long thick prick into my ass.

A deep moan broke out of me. He started to slam it in and out, fucking me hard. I pushed back and up into him, claiming the length of him. He was leaning on me using his weight to push down. Every stroke, his prick reamed deep inside me. His hand caught my prick. One of my feet jerked, kicking uncontrollably as the strong sensation transmitted itself to me.

I was getting damp now, sweating with pleasure. Mark was pounding hard. He drove into me eagerly, stroke after stroke. I thought I would cum first but I didn't. He had a strange twisted smile plastered across his face. He looked incredulous and very happy. He was fucking me so hard that my body was jerking. His smile went as his mouth opened in that breathless gasp when he brought himself to the edge of cumming.

Then his face was twisted in a grimace and all his weight was crushed against my doubled up body. He leaned in as the shudders racked him. I felt the pulse surge in his cock. His breath became a wheeze as it slowed down and he struggled for air.

A moment later he was focusing on me and his hand was on my prick again. He rolled me back a little way to get the room. He thrummed my organ. He made his hips vibrate as he stayed inside me, squirming against me, giving me sensation, without thrusting. His hands on my prick were as practised and sure of themselves as if it was his own cock he was masturbating. He was so eager to give me pleasure that he had forgotten to be tentative. He reached down and pinched my nipple.

My hand caught and scrabbled at his thighs, at the backs of his hands. He squeezed tighter and tighter. Little moans broke from me. My ass was full. His hands played on me, squeezing until I felt like my prick was going to burst. It was going to burst. I felt my balls contracting. My feet kicked some more as I jerked towards him. My eyes squeezed shut and my load came up. It jetted in stunning waves. His hand matched my tempo exactly.

When the shock of cumming had passed for me, he moved slowly and withdrew himself. He leaned over me as my hips went back to the bed. He put the side of his hand into my mouth where there was a string of my sticky cum on the knuckle. I licked his hand, exhausted with pleasure.

He watched me entranced while I licked his hand clean. I could feel callouses now with my tongue. His hands had callouses on them. They were strong hands. They just had the callouses in places that I hadn't been able to see. The taste of sperm and salt on his skin was good. I dragged the tip of my tongue between his fingers.

"That was good, the way you like it?" Mark's voice was hoarse.

I nodded. "Oh, yeah." My breath was still evening itself out.

"Maybe next time," said Mark. "-And there will be a next time won't there? Next time or soon, you are going to have to try fucking my ass. I never had my ass fucked before. I want you to put your prick up there. Just like you promised me. How about it, Eamon? Are you willing to stay and teach me how to take it?"

All I could do was smile and nod.

"Soon." said Mark, smiling. "That's a promise. You're going to teach me. So get your strength back as quick as you can, Kid, because I can hardly wait until you're ready to teach me everything you know."

End of story by Ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca