See original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritaria/ravens-claw/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.
Jackson's deep voice was rough and unsteady, but adamant, "Matt, that was the hottest fucking thing I've ever had done to me. And when I k-k-k-kissed you, I could t-t-t-taste my own, you know, that you swallowed. And I thought it would be so far past nasty and it, well, all I could think of was Pumba saying, 'Hmmm. Slimy yet satisfying'!" He dove in and proceeded to eat Matt's laughter in yet another kiss.
Raven's Claw 9: Goodnight Kiss (N3)
By Bear Pup
Both Matt and Jackson jumped a foot when Chef shook them. They broke their intense kiss and looked at the man, Matt embarrassed and Jackson slightly pissed. "Um, guys. Sorry to break that up," he smiled, "but the bell sounded. I let you go another few, but you've got less than 30 before the doors lock?"
Jackson and Matt dragged each other to the head, a number of jaws dropped as they aimed each other's cocks to the urinal trough and held on through the pissing. They peeled away from each other after a quick rinse in the shower, though. They made it to the Social Room just as the warning chime sounded and they followed their wristband directions. Aaron and Matt seemed somewhat startled, both having forgotten the rooming assignments.
"I, um, so this is the first night that I get to room with one of the team, you know?"
"No shit, Aaron? Really? Huh. Yeah. You've been with the adult extra each night. So," Matt waggled his eyebrows, "anything strike you as different so far?"
Aaron laughed, "Not yet, but I'll let you know... Actually, yeah. I'm a lot more comfortable around you. I -- I, um, never did get to apologize for not defending you, you know. About the Junior thing and the way we treat--"
"That world's gone now, Aaron. And trust me, it would have made it worse if anyone had tried. My dad... my dad would have made you pay and made my life a living hell. HA! More than it already was, that is."
"I'm sorry, Matt. I wish it had been better." His tone made it clear that this was not a platitude, but a sincere regret.
"Anyway," Matt forced his voice to be upbeat, "Lots of great sex with the instructor types?"
"Oh. My. God. Matt, you have no idea. I, um, well you know I never really thought about it? I mean, sex with guys? Especially not sex with old guys. Then it was like, Bam! Pow! Whammy!" He and Matt both giggled. "I don't even know how to describe it. One minute it's, 'Can I touch you?' and the next it's the hottest sex I ever imagined."
"Wow." Matt's voice was low as he slowly stroked his semi.
"Yeah. Wow."
"So, um, you hadn't, like before I mean, thought about it?"
Aaron sighed deeply. "You know, Matt, if you'd asked me that a week ago I could honestly have said that it had never crossed my mind. But now? I guess I did, some. I just didn't really, you know, realize that's what I was doing. I know that makes no real sense. You?"
Matt looked over at his teammate, looking for signs of condescension. Finding none, he said quietly, "I thought you knew. I thought everybody knew. I've a-a-a-always been, you know, that way. I figured it was one reason y'all hated me so much. That I was a... well, like that."
Aaron turned on his side and propped up his head, staring for a minute at the kid they'd all called Junior. "No. At least not me. And you know something? I'm not real sure I would have cared much. You know, inside. I guess I would have made all the right noises so the guys wouldn't, well, you know. But really really cared? Nah." He returned to his back and stared at the ceiling. "Besides, I always kinda thought Bobby might be, and I love him more than the world, you know. So, I'd thought about that, about if he said he was gay, and I knew I wouldn't care much."
"So, um, does it bother you? That there's no women now?"
Aaron thought for so long that Matt wondered if he'd fallen asleep. "I want to. I want to hate it and scream and yell and feel sorry and robbed and cheated. But you know? I can't seem to do it." He turned again to his teammate. "I've cum more times in the last few days than I did in a couple weeks back home. And every time, it seems to get better, you know. I guess I'm wondering now if I was always, well, that I always needed it and never knew."
"Can I, um, can I come over there a cuddle?" Matt's voice has receded in age by a number of years and he kicked himself for it. Aaron just smiled.
"I'd like that a lot, Matt." The two snuggled under the light sheet and settled in, ending with Aaron on his back and Matt curled into his side, a leg and an arm over the older boy.
"This is so nice. Thank you, really. And, um, Aaron? Do you, you know, want me to, um? I really appreciate you letting me come over. I'll, well, if you want and all..."
Aaron's arm hugged the smaller boy to him and he turned to look in Matt's eyes. "You can, but I really kinda like this. And Matt, you never have to owe me anything, bro. You are one of the best of us. If you want me to m-m-m-m-make love to you, just ask. I'd be honored. But you don't have to, ever. I like you as you, not cuz your hot and sexy, but just because you're you. And that you wanted to snuggle with me? It makes me feel ten feet tall, Matt." Aaron felt something warm on his pec. "Matt? You're crying! Why? I'm so sorry! I didn't mean--"
Matt's finger silenced Aaron. "No. No, Aaron. That was just the nicest thing anyone has said to me since, like, ever. I, I don't mind being a sex toy for the guys. It's fun and I love it. Wet dream come true and all. But you, you don't mind just letting me cuddle. And you tell me you l-l-l-like me? No judgment, no owing, no nothing? No one has ever said anything like that, you know, to me? It's. I. It's really special is what I'm saying."
Aaron bent forward and kissed Matt gently on the forehead, then the nose. "And that you feel that way is just as special to me, bro. But, um, seriously. If you need to, well, get off before you sleep, I'll be happy to help and all. You're still sexy as fuck, you know." He tousled the younger guy's hair.
Matt sighed and pushed his head up so he could kiss Aaron's chin. "I've never been this happy, Aaron. Not ever." The two faded to sleep quickly as Leo make copious notes for the team. This was a specific and important threshold of behavior that they'd need to know about.
Paul and Vincent eyed each other a little warily as they settled into bed. Vincent could feel the tension pouring off the mercurial Brazilian, even though it had been him that made it possible to get the team's grudging acceptance. He jumped a little when Paul's voice came quick and stressed, maybe even a little loud in the small room.
"You taught Jackson to kiss?"
"Um, yeah. He, uh, he got really good, too."
"And, um, could you teach me?"
Vincent looked over at the serious, almost severe look. "If you wanted me to and asked, I could try. But, um..."
"What, you'd rather not?"
"Noooo. No, it's just that the kissing isn't a takedown. It's... strange. It's like a, um," Vincent tilted his head to one side then the other as if physically seeking the right words, "sorta like a mindset. It's, well, a big part of it is making yourself vulnerable. Taking a chance. I'm not sure how to say it."
"And you don't think I can do that?" There was an edge in Paolo's voice at the thought there was something he could not master.
Vincent looked at him for a minute. "No, Paul, I'm not sure you can." The deep-tan face showed shocked surprise. "You don't DO vulnerable, Paul. Any more than I did when I was toughed-up as Vinny the Stud. I had to throw away a lifetime of shit, Paul, and I don't see you wanting that. For me, Vinny was fake, a tough guy act. But you're real, Paul. You're not acting. It's... I think it's gonna be a lot harder for you."
"Hmph." Paul couldn't really deny what Vincent was saying. "You willing to try?"
"Sure." Vincent threw his legs back over the edge of the bed and sat facing his teammate. "I'll tell you what I can. And I think I know where to start. When you were grilling and I kissed you?"
"Yeah?" Paul was edgy and nervous and Vincent knew he had to be careful.
"Five or six times, I felt you start to let go and really get into the kiss and then you, I don't know, pulled back and, well, 'manned up' and not in a good way. You -- now don't get pissed -- I think you felt vulnerable and threw up your shields. You'll never kiss like Jackson if you even have shields, Paul."
Paul scowled down as his hands. Privately, he knew exactly the times Vincent was talking about. The points where he could just let go of control and dive into the kiss. That bad thing, the part Vincent got so very wrong, the thing he'd never admit, was not that he felt vulnerable -- he felt terrified. The existential threat of letting go of absolute control send a new and horrifying fear shooting through him. Vincent might well be right; he might not be able to.
Manly Pride at being able to conquer anything and Manly Fear of letting go fought a pitched battle in his soul until Paolo looked up and saw Vincent watching him. It was as if his teammate was seeing the WWE cage match going on inside him and placing silent bets on the outcome. That was the push it took for Manly Pride to crush the Manly Fear, not just pinning the foe but beating him senseless with a folding chair.
"Let's do this thing." Paul got up, shook himself and moved next to Vincent in the other bed. "You got to help me, though. You coach me, right, camarada?" He leaned in to capture Vincent's mouth.
"Stop!" Paul pulled back, confused. "Kissing starts way before lips, dude. Take a minute. Look at the guy you're gonna kiss. Ask yourself why you want to kiss that man. What about him is special, important, sexy, powerful, cool, whatever."
"And if the honest answer is cuz I gotta?"
"Then bail, dude, cuz you ain't gonna get much kiss out of it and the other guy won't get anything at all. That's kinda what I mean, Paul."
Paul blew out a long, cheek-puffing sigh and sat back, regarding Vincent. He took in the strong, lean muscles, that hair, the masculine power. 'I can respect that,' he thought.
"Paul, dude, you can't kiss the body. You gotta kiss the person. Let me show you, okay? Just go with it. Let it flow. Try not to pull back, okay?" Paul nodded.
Vincent put his hand behind the Brazilian stud's neck and looked deep into the dark-brown eyes. Paul was a model of tamed ferocity, of power channeled and controlled, of a relentless drive to win, to succeed, to conquer. Vincent leaned in and kissed the caged tiger inside his teammate, drawing and teasing and tempting the monster to come out and play.
Vincent felt the power and pulled back instinctively from the fear. Marshalling his discipline, he tried to push through it. Every time he got a taste of the full force behind Vincent's kiss, he quailed. Finally, he pulled back and wrenched himself off the bed and leaned his head against the wall, pounding twice in frustration. "FUCK!"
"Paul? Dude? It's okay. Chill. Nobody gets a hold right the first time. You throw a tantrum like that with the coach every time you missed a throw?" Paul rounded on his and snarled until the words penetrated. Damned right he didn't. Coach told him, showed him, had him fail and repeated over and over. That's how coaching worked. He was furious at Vincent both for calling him out... and even more for being right.
He moved to the bed again and reached out, one hand gripping the back of Vincent's neck and the other on his shoulder, almost as if they were on the mat. FOCUS he shouted at himself. He thought about the cracked shell of Vinny-becoming-Vincent the night before and the inconceivable guts it took to walk out in front of the team and make love to Paul's own cock, then take on the challenge from Aaron who did everything to get Vinny the Jerk out from under Vincent's skin... and Aaron failed. He thought of the force of will he showed in the gym that morning and the way he pushed Matt, the weakest, to outperform everyone's expectation. That was something he could worship.
He moved in and Vincent could feel the blazing heat on his lips. This wasn't a kiss as much as it was an assault. Instead of love there was raw, sexual power. Instead of tenderness there was a conquering soul. Vincent moaned slightly as he invited the jungle cat out of Paul's cage and into his own. 'Let's play, tiger,' he thought. To his shock, Paul didn't pull back, but let his big cat roar into the kiss.
When they finally broke, Paul's jawed worked and he swallowed convulsively. He'd never experienced that kind of energy, that level of intensity, that kind of, of, of supremacy. The tiger inside purred in victorious contentment as he watched Vincent's eyes flutter a moment, then go wide.
"Holy fuck, Paul. What the hell was that?"
Paul rumbled in a lower-than-normal voice, "That was me letting go, bonito. You like?"
"Um, uh, um," Vincent stuttered, feeling dogwater pour from his cock and sensing the sticky patch that Paul had left on his hip when they were clenched together. He grinned mischievously, "I, um, I'm not sure. Try it again and let me check."
Paul let out a long, sustained, animalistic growl and dove in again. In the control room, Leo smiled widely. The Brazilian stud had one knee -- unconsciously? -- in Vincent's crotch, frotting the guy he was kissing with every movement. Even without the telltales on the monitors, he could tell that Vincent was whimpering and that Paolo was approaching a point of no return, helped in large part by Vincent's stroking hand. Well, Leo thought, at least the boy can kiss!
Across the way was a completely different story. Bobby barely cleared the doorway before Jackson had him in a deep and penetrating kiss. Bobby moaned as he felt the giant black stud lift him onto one of the beds. He instinctively wrapped his legs around the carved-ebony of his lover's muscled ass, and locked his elbow behind the larger youth's neck.
Jackson covered the beautiful white boy's entire body with his own. Bobby's leg-lock push their cocks together and the black muscle-god moaned as sweat and precum slicked the area. He reflexively started to hump which made Bobby whimper into the kiss with need and passion. The kiss was epic, for both young men. Each climaxed twice, Bobby then Jackson then Jackson then Bobby, soaking their bellies and chest with their loads, never breaking the kiss.
When Jackson finally slipped to the side in sated exhaustion, neither spared a thought for the other bed in the room. Bobby glued (literally) his cum-drenched body to the side of the black stud -- his black stud, at least for the night. Jackson petted the beautiful youth's head and back as Bobby teased a nipple or nibbled the ebony stallion's armpit. Neither recognized the transition to sleep as the hottest kiss-and-grind of their lives simply segued into dreamland where each started in the other's nighttime fantasies.
For reasons he couldn't express, the tall, lean, older Chef intimidated the hunky wrestler who followed him into the room. Ned pulled a sheet over his nakedness as soon as he was through the door. "You oaky, Ned? You seem nervous." Ned jumped a bit and stared. Chef chuckled, "I promise not to bite... unless you ask really nicely."
Ned tried to smile and faltered. "Um, so, we're supposed to... you know? Now? Us?"
Chef actually laughed in his refined accent, "Good lord, Ned. If you want to, sure. I'm always up for a hot young stud like you. You have no idea how incredible you look. But just relax; no one is going to make you do anything."
"Oh yeah?" Leo let out a truly-evil chuckle in the control room. Other than the possibly-magical Aaron with his 'please me' effect, Ned was likely the most valuable catch of the entire bunch. Even the incomparably beautiful Bobby could not match the intensity of reaction to the 'tender brute' that was Ned when he was acting his natural self. Everything from the set of the wide shoulders to the fuzzy bubble-butt to the jungle-cat stride were hot, but it was the open, kind, slightly-pouting face with soft, warm eyes and a sensual mouth that were pure platinum on any market.
Leo had recently finished a little program he was quite proud of; he booted it up and fed it the parameters. Whenever Ned's eyes glanced to Chef's body, anywhere but the face, his sub-prostate implant would give him a tickle. Ned knew he was gay, but to approach someone, especially someone older and an authority figure, just sent him reeling.
Ned's knew his husky, hulking body was not the muscle-god of Jackson or the beauty of Bobby or the perfection of form that Aaron and Paul had. Every coach he'd ever had was on him to 'lose a few' since no matter how hard he worked, there was a little blubber left under his abundant fuzz. He knew his face was plain and hair simply couldn't be styled in anything but a military cut. He was less shy around teammates because they knew how hard he worked and how good he was at the mat, and they respected him. 'But this lean, perfect older man?' Ned thought. 'Why would he want a pudgy stump like me?'
As if reading his mind, Chef's bows furrowed. "You think I'm making fun of you. That you're not attractive, don't you?" Ned felt himself blush hard, knowing it just confirmed Chef's thoughts. "Do you know what all of the testing shows us? Would you like to?" Ned nodded.
Chef looked intently straight into the boy's eyes. "On every single measure we have, Ned, every single one, you score as the hottest guy on the team."
Ned snorted, flushed and turned away. His voice was harsh and clearly unhappy. "I don't like being mocked. And fake praise doesn't get me sexed up, either. You're wasting your time, Chef."
Chef added a bit of menace to his voice, which fit perfectly with his unidentifiable accent -- one used by villains in half the films and video games of the last few years. "I don't lie to get sex, and I don't give praise I don't mean. I bribed Howie, you know." Ned's head popped up. "His First-Husband's birthday is in two weeks and I promised to cook for his family that night. In exchange for letting me room... with you, Ned."
Leo chuckled in the control room as he pushed the prostate-stim up a few notches and add very subtle fuck-rhythm pulses. He smiled broadly as the monitors showed his eyes beginning to dilate and his breathing shorten. Damn, Chef Grayling could lie like a fucking rug. 'Bribed Howie'. HA! He made a note, though, having a feeling that, if the gambit worked, it would end up in the protocols for future odd-numbered groups.
"And no, before you ask, that still doesn't mean you have to have sex with me. I would, though, appreciate it if you'd uncover a little and let me ogle that amazing, fucktastic body of yours." Ned's hands trembled as his fear and lust fought. Lust won and he shakily uncovered his leaking, inelegant club of a cock. Chef sighed and began to fondle himself, "My God, Ned, you are magnificent."
"Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-You really like, you know, l-l-l-looking at me? But why? What about Jackson? And Bobby is fucking beauti-- um, handsome and all. And you have husbands and Howie and Sean and, like, amazing guys all around!"
Chef cocked his head to the side. "Yeah, there are a lot of hot guys here. And Bobby is pretty, really pretty. And Jackson is a muscle-god, sure. But you, Ned, are sexy. You are the real deal, the kind of man that First Husbands -- and the rest of us -- dream of meeting."
Ned sat, squirming as he got hornier and hornier listening to the man talk. "Um, do you, well, have a name? Other than Chef? I can't really see myself, you know..."
Chef laughed. "My name is Walter, Walter Grayling. My husbands call me Wit. I'd... like it very much if you would do that, too, Ned."
"Um, Wit. You swear to God you really think I'm, you know, sexy? That you're not just saying that to tease me or something?" Ned wanted to kick himself for the neediness in his voice, as if he were desperate to hear the praise -- and in his heart of hearts, he knew that he really was.
"Ned, look at me. Watch my eyes as I say this. You are one of the sexiest men I've seen in a very long time, Ned. I swear to you that I'm not lying. You're something special, whether you want to believe that or not."
"W-W-W-W-Wit? If you, um, still want to... you, um, can...?"
Leo in the control room matched Chef's wry smile as 'Wit' replied, "Ned, I'm sorry. It doesn't work that way. I'm not going to come over there and I'm not going to start anything. I'm on staff. We can't do that. You have all the power here, Ned. What you say, what you want, what you decide goes. But if you want to come over here and show me what you want, I am so, so very ready."
Ned felt a squirming in his gut that echoed the needy itch deep below that was driving him to distraction. He bit his lip and Chef nearly came at the adorable, delectable sight. It was without pause or question the sexiest expression he had ever seen. He watched the battle raging and sighed deeply as Ned stood up and zombie-walked over to him. Ned's hand hovered, afraid to touch, afraid to move.
Chef whispered, "What do you want Ned? What does that sexy beast inside you want?"
"I-I-I-I-I-I want you to k-k-k-k-kiss me!" Ned dove into Wit's arms, whimpering as their lips met. The older man let the younger overpower him with his need and passion before asserting himself into the kiss as well. The deep kiss final ebbed and Wit pulled back, looking into the flaming eyes of the beefy young bull.
"Kiss? Is that all you want, Ned?"
"No." Ned whispered, almost inaudibly.
"Tell me Ned, tell me what you want."
In a whisper dripping with need and hope and passion and fear, Ned replied, "Everything."
Wit laid the boy back and said, "Can I make love to your amazing body, Ned? Please?"
The same whisper, the same dread and same thirst for what might come. "Yes."
Wit moved in for a slow, luxurious kiss, not of passion but of pleasure. He let his tongue explore the boy's lips, then chin, then kissed his way up Ned's face until he was softly kissing his eyelids. "Will you keep them closed for me, Ned?" Ned didn't answer but didn't need to.
Wit was a Chef, his palate his ultimate tool. He let his tongue work behind Ned's ears and savored the deep and desperate moan it caused in the young hunk. The ripe musk that screamed MAN called to him and Wit descended on an armpit, making Ned thrash and groan. Wit knew that the boy was on the very edge and decided to take that edge away.
Wit buried his face in the other pit, allowing his long, lithe torso to slide liquidly across the young man's erection. As he worked with increasing zeal on the armpit, he relished the chuffing that Ned's breathing had become. He rippled his abs in an intoxicating rhythm sending shockwaves through the hulky body below him as Ned exploded, voice ululating like the complex whistle of a coal train.
As Ned whined and cried out softly, Wit moved down to consume the load from Ned's belly and chest, treasuring the whimpers and aftershocks that coursed through the young body. Before Ned really was conscious again, Wit flipped him onto the wrestler's belly. Ned's eyes flew open and his heart raced in panic.
"Shh, my magnificent hunk of a lover. You're a star wrestler in the peak of fitness with the body of a god. You can flip me and crush me in an instant. You control this, Ned. Let me worship that power, Ned, let me show you have incomparably sexy you really are. Will you do that, lover?"
Ned nodded shakily and close his eyes, not at all sure but willing to trust... at least for a little while. Wit laid himself fully atop the boy, "You're massive, Ned, and magnificent." He let his tongue tease up Ned's neck and over to his ears, getting new moans. He then laved down the sweaty back, taking great care with each muscle, thrilling with the way his ministrations made Ned twitch and jerk and, adorably, giggle occasionally.
But nothing, nothing prepared Ned for the point where Wit licked down to what he would come to think of as his Bermuda Triangle, the area right above his ass-crack where he would lose his mind. As soon as Wit got there, his first lick got a cry of wonder from Ned and his subsequent licks and teasing had him cussing and growling in exultation. The sensation was, quite literally, mind-erasing. He felt himself leaking copiously into the sheets and couldn't fucking care less. He did, though, care about that fabric and tried to hump it in his need. Wit locked his hips in place, high and wide, preventing any contact at all.
All those sounds ceased like a candle snuffed, though, when Ned felt Wit's magical tongue move south into the crack itself. His eyes popped wide in shock and disgust at the thought, 'thought' becoming impossible as soon as that tongue touched the quivering ring of flesh at his most-hidden place. Ned had to struggle even to breathe through the sensations that rocked his body and his hand flew to his cock.
Denied! Wit, as a master chef and knowing that every perfect meal takes time, grabbed his hand and pulled it to the small of his back. Reflexively, needing to cum so badly it hurt, his other hand reached down to meet the same fate. Wit's long-fingered, work-strengthened hands held him fast as his mouth and tongue send Ned into orbit. He passed through cursing, then growling, then cussing and found himself actually begging before finally abandoning words altogether and entering a point where he emitted a single, long, sustained keening moan, Wit's signal to bring this to a close.
Wit slipped his free hand under Ned's hiked-up ass and used his open palm to very slowly, very simply, rub along the iron-hard spike of flesh, Ned's voice went even higher, likely scaring bats from miles around, as he desperately tried to hunch into the hand to get more friction. Wit was having none of it. The Chef in him smiled. 'Oh, no, my boy, you need simmer, not boil.' He relentlessly kept up the assault on Ned's ass, the lips now distended enough to expose some of the most-sensitive nerves in the young athlete's body, nerves never before touched and nerves Ned had never realized were his kryptonite.
The inexorably-slow sensations on his cock and those at his ass-lips built steadily until he could do nothing but thrash his head as his eyes rolled back in a surfeit of pleasure the likes of which he had never even wet-dreamed. Wit cupped his palm suddenly and gave Ned's cock a full, tip-twisting stroke as he prodded the asshole with his long, pointed tongue.
Ned exploded in an almost-painful orgasm, his cremaster clenching so hard that it nearly pushed his nuts back into inguinal canal. Surge after unimaginably-intense surge made Ned want to scream but his throat locked tight, making him sound like a rusty spring more than anything else. Not that he heard himself. When his nuts had nothing else to give, he collapsed, completely insensate.
"He okay, Leo?" Chef whispered. Leo's disembodied voice came low and sure.
"Don't know about okay, but he's physically fine. Damn, dude, check to see if his brains are leaking out his ears! You blew that hot fucking white boy's fuses!" Wit chuckled and lifted the densely-muscled youth with a 'oof' and carry-dragged him to the other bed, the original site now resembling a cum swamp more than a sleeping surface.
As Ned mumbled nonsense syllables and teetered on the edge of sleep behind him, Wit went over and grabbed a handful of the copious cum and brought himself off in a matter of a dozen strokes, pumping his own load to join that of the teen. He caught his breath and snuggled in next to the sexy young athlete, covering them both with a sheet and joining Ned in his slumber.
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Canvas Hell: 33 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 25 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 26 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Lake Desolation: 19 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/ Culberhouse Rules: 9 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/ Raven's Claw: 9 chapters .../authoritarian/ravens-claw/ Ashes & Dust: 4 chapters .../rural/ashes-and-dust/