Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-heathens/) 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. You can also set up AMAZON SMILE so that your purchases on Amazon earn contributions NIFTY! It's a great, zero-cost way to enhance the support you already give them.
"Whatever God wills." I knew, but could not say, that God had already willed and given me my sacred name through the Dream-Strasta weeks before. I would become Szentély, the sanctum in which Harcos' heart could dwell in safety. I knew, now, finally, that Strasta had spoken truth. Harcos and I were meant to be joined, he my saviour and me his sanctuary.
The Heathens 29: That Damned Monkey
By Bear Pup
The day was hot, long and cruel. The inexorable climb had no mercy. There were no flat stretches; it was either up-up or down-up, transitioning one to the other with no respite. The slopes were not steep, they were just relentless. In fairness, the men each took a turn at the straps, none riding Bu's mount but instead tethering it to a cart. It was still an hour from sunset when Pameten called to Harcos.
"Servus! Brother-warrior! I'm dying. We're all dying. This stream looks to flow down the side of that bluff. Why don't we camp in its lee?" Harcos made no answer but turned sharply left and all of us gratefully followed. Pam's eyes had been right. The stream burbled down the side of the bluff from some unseen source halfway up. It formed a wide, shallow pool at the base and then splashed its way down the shallow hillside to cross the road we'd travelled.
It was clear that this place had seen camps before, and even I could see the marks of Roman-trained soldiers. I was surprised at how cautious that made the men. As we set up the tents and fire, they very carefully set up the perimeter threads, stopping often to examine and discuss things. I leaned to Furge and asked, "Why are they so nervous?"
"A spot that frequently sees camps will always attract predators, both animal and human. If we all weren't completely worn out, we'd never have stopped."
The relentless slopes had taken an uneven toll on the men. The smaller men were winded, but Harcos, Sziklak, Pameten and Handart, the largest of the men, could barely walk when they got back to the campfire with armloads of wood. We built a very quick meal of roasted meat and grains. The four big warriors were close to sleep by its end. I helped Harcos stumble to bed. He was asleep before I got his last pieces of clothing off. I had to roll his enormous body around to get the loincloth free.
I sat for a long time and simply marvelled at my barbarian warrior. The deep, reddish-auburn fur that covered his enormous, wide-backed frame. The thick bulges of muscles that moved slowly as he breathed (snored, actually). The massive snake draped across his thigh, tumescent but not hard. The thickness of it made me think of its taste on my tongue, the perfect texture of his meaty foreskin, the precious nips of pungent cheese hidden underneath.
I curled myself into Harcos, gently laying my head across his thigh, falling asleep to what I knew would be wondrous dream since every breath would flood me with his sweat and musk, the scent that had become more important to me as bread or meat. I could live a long time on raw grains, but could not imagine surviving without that sharp tang in my nostrils, that deep, penetrating musk in my lungs.
Three hours later, Stelio woke us to take the middle watch. He said they'd had to kill a wolf, but there was no sign of a larger pack. Thankfully, no people seemed to be nearby. I dressed my master in his tunica and cuirass, since trouble was likely. I took the three-pronged spear that had served me so well with the wolves.
Harcos was still sluggish, but I knew how to solve that. He sat heavily on rock that was his sentry point. I carefully laid the spear aside and dove quickly under Harcos' tunica, taking him into my mouth before he could tell me desist. After that, the idea of telling me anything seemed to flee from my master. Within minutes, Harcos was moaning.
When he got to "Oh puppy. Oh, Kucuk! Yes, my Dasqas! Yes, my jewel. So good. Sooooo good. Yes, yes!" I pulled off and out from under the garment which now quite resembled a tent with a very large, very hard and (from the stain) very leaking central mast. "You stopped!" Harcos sounded both amazed and offended. "Why did you stop?"
"Because this is a dangerous place and I want you awake, alert and ready for what may... come" I smirked at the pun. I dove back underneath and spent some considerable time with his balls in my mouth and my hands tickling and teasing his taint. I was well-rewarded when I got back to his cock, the foreskin filled with precum and much of it leaking down his shaft. For the next three hours, I kept Harcos on the maddening edge of orgasm.
He stopped me thrice, once a false alarm, once for Harcos to chase a large cat away with thrown stones, and lastly as a hissing, spitting, growling commotion came from the other side of camp. Handart, the other sentry for the middle watch, killed another large cat (or perhaps the same one trying a different approach) with his pilum, Lavic finishing the emaciated thing with his Spanish sword.
When the clepsydra dripped its way to the third hour, I redoubled my efforts and had Harcos in the throes of impending ecstasy when I sharply pulled his bull-balls down and away, pinching the base of his cock. He tried and failed to stifle a howl of frustration as his impending ecstasy vanished. He was in full grump as we woke Sziklak from his slumber and reported the situation to the sleepy giant. Furge was already heating a small cup on the dying embers, apparently readying a stimulant for his master.
We got back to the tent and I very slowly stripped Harcos, then wriggled excessively as I got out of my own clothes. Harcos growled and lunged for me, but he had taught me speed. I evaded him repeatedly and snagged the jar of tallow on one particular pass. When I stopped, he just scowled.
"Harcos, my Aldus, I have decided that I deserve a reward for keeping you alert all night." His scowl deepened until he saw me pull the tallow-jar from behind my back. "Lie down, hands behind your head. For the rest of this night, I am in charge here." Harcos smirked and complied. Getting his enormous horn hard was not an issue, of course, but getting that monster cock slicked and me loose without him reaching completion was a chore, if a delightful one.
I finally started to mount that mast and gave up quickly. Harcos was seriously disappointed until he saw me grab a leather belt and clamp it in my jaws. I lined up again and plunged my ass down, taking his head into my willing but blazing hole. I nearly bit through the strap but kept my jaws clamped and my scream inside... mostly. I tried in vain to get his head past the second ring, twisting and pushing down over and over when suddenly I looked down. Harcos had his head thrown back, chest heaving as he tried to constrain himself. I reached both hands forward and pulled his nipples, corkscrewing my ass again and again.
Harcos howled, not silently but softly as he bucked and I felt his seed wash my hole, some spurting back out. My master bucked again and the slippery semen did its work. I bit down again as his cock plunged past my innermost defence, my wail of pain and fulfilment coming as a strangled whimper around the leather. I sank slowly as he reared up again, planting his sperm even deeper.
When his hips fell back, his mammoth manhood plundered that sacred nubbin deep inside me and it was my turned to howl, cut to a high whine by the bit between my teeth. A spurt of my cum was followed by a fountain that came within a finger's-width of the tent roof before falling into the fur on Harcos' chest. Even that night on the Flax of Nemesis, no orgasm had ever taken me so completely. I was lost to the world, bucking and thrusting myself harder and harder on my master's still-twitching cock. As I finally neared collapse, Harcos got his second wind.
He flipped us, pulling my nearly-inert body under him and stopped fucking me, instead making long and thorough love to my shattered body and taking my so-satisfied soul to new realms. I came again a short time later but it took him a while longer to plough his second load of seed deep into my fallow field. The spasms were intense, long and full and I could feel them wash my rectum. Harcos collapsed atop me and I realized, bemused, that he was already asleep.
I managed to shift his bulk to the side and curled into him, sadly allowing that magnificent monster to slide squishily from my well-used ass. I decided that, for the sake of the bedding, I needed to void the two loads that he'd planted. I wriggled out of the tent, used the small latrine we'd dug and cleaned myself, saddened by the sound of a snarl as a rock thrown by Sziklak struck some animal night-thief. I returned and snuggled deeply into my master's fur and was asleep in moments.
When I woke to the faintest light of predawn, I could taste my own ass on my master's cock as I coaxed his morning piss from his still-slumbering body. He woke and laughed as he watched me struggle to get a morning gift of sacred semen from his overly-drained nuts. He pulled me up and kissed me, long and rough. "I am sorry, my Dasqas, but that well is dry this morning. You pulled one too many buckets from it with your play last night." I purred as he kissed and cuddled me further before we both prepared for the day.
The first set of hills deposited us on a long, sloping plateau, hard going but nothing compared to the day before. The road now paralleled a waterway that varied from a small river to a large, fast stream as it worked its way down and to the east. We found a small, walled group of huts and P'yetury used a combination of flattery, childish antics and persuasion to get one family to part with two young roosters for a quite-fair price, and another family to sell a block of hard goat cheese. Bu was entranced as he watched his "temporary" helpmeet.
The grubby, sweaty, smelly but noble-born warrior stayed deep in thought throughout the day. P'yetury spent the entire journey pestering everyone to teach him more and more of the hodgepodge Latin used in the Legion and he picked it up with astounding speed. We lunched on the cheese by a wide spot used as a ford from another road stretching northeast (we'd gradually turned and were now heading west into the rising mountains). We bathed as well, the refreshing coolness of the water reinvigorating us all.
P'yetury gambolled about splashing and playing, in fact just showing off for Bu's amusement. After wiping away a face-full of water the boy had delivered, an unusually-grumpy Volot gruffed at him, "Stop acting like a damned fool monkey." P'yetury laughed but settled down... a little.
The youth even tried his hand (or shoulder) at pulling a cart, an experiment that lasted at least ten minutes. Bu smiled indulgently, "You will need many weeks of food to get enough meat on you to pull anything."
P'yetury muttered just loud enough for Bu and me to hear, "That's not what you said last night about pulling, warrior man." I snorted a laugh and both of them looked at me then, blushingly, away.
Late in the afternoon, we came to the ford where the road split in several directions. We took the well-travelled fork that ran through the wide valley formed by the Bunushchai River for a while. Within an hour or so, we were well into the foothills and found a small dell, a cliff to one side and a good hill wrapping the other two sides. It had no water source, but was well-sheltered and we set up camp. Furge pointed to a clump of weeds well over halfway up the side of the cliff.
"I wish I could get up there," he sighed. "That looks for all the world like stammichi. If it is, it's a great poultice for seeping wounds." I recognised the name from something Strasta had said and knew that the corresponding niche in the herb-roll was nearly empty. P'yetury had heard as well and cocked his head from one side to the other.
The cliff-side was a mess of fractures, utterly unclimbable. It was even odds that you'd bring part of the mountain down on you when you fell to your death, that part being a certainty. Before either of us could protest, P'yetury was scrambling up the crumbled scree at the base. By the time I shouted, "STOP!" and caught the attention of others, he was easily ten feet up the cliff itself. Everyone in the camp froze, the blood draining from Bu's face in a rush, leaving him a sickly grey.
"P'yetury! P'yetury! Get your ass back here!" I yelled.
Without looking around, he yelled, "I can hear you shouting but not the words! Was that Kucuk? I assume you're telling me to go faster, right?"
I switched to his own language, or close to it. "NO!" I roared. "I'm telling you to get your scrawny fucking ass--"
"Okay, okay! I'm already moving as fast as I can but I'll try harder!" I could hear the smirk in his voice. The little bastard had damned well heard every word. All of us stared in awe as his unshod feet and nimble fingers found purchase where none should be possible. A rock would fall to a shared gasp from us below, and one or another of us would shout when he made a sudden and unexpected jink to the sides as he sought out the best passage.
Before we realised it, P'yetury had yanked half a bush of whatever it was and tucked it into the belt that gathered his simple shift at his waist, giving him the look of some little monkey with an enormous, green, bushy tail. Coming down was much slower since he had to "look" with this toes for the next foothold. He did fine until he was about four feet up. I think he tried to hurry and slipped, falling the short distance and then rolling down the scree.
Bu was on him instantly, pulling him up, brushing him off and checking everything as the boy giggled and tried to tell the wizened warrior that he was fine. When it was clear he was unhurt, I tapped Bu on the shoulder and said, "May I, sir?" I grabbed the bushy thing and tossed it to Furge.
Bu stepped back and I sat on a rock next to P'yetury. Before the beaming, triumphant boy could react, I had him over my lap with his shift up, loincloth off and began to wail on his upturned ass as he hollered, first in shock then in pain. I punctuated every single word with the hardest slap I could deliver.
"Don't. You. Ever. Do. Something. That. Stupid {three smacks}! You. Heard. Every. Word. And. You. Ignored. Me! If. You. Ever. Disobey. ANYONE. Again. You. Won't. Sit. Without. Crying. For. A. WEEK! Do. You. Understand?" Whack-whack-whack-whack-WHACK!!
He was screaming "Sorry" and "Please" and "Stop" and "Never again" at the top of his lungs. I pushed him off my lap and his bright-red ass hit the jagged shards of scree and he yelped and leapt up again. His tearstained face blazed with outrage and humiliation and worry and a hint of true fear that maybe, this time, he really had pushed too far.
He yelped again and started to struggle as Bu picked him up, then faded to shocked silence as Bu shook him, crying. "I was so scared! I will kill you myself after Kucuk beats you raw if you ever put yourself at risk again!" I think the tears on the mighty warrior's face were what undid the little hellion who curled into Bu's chest and wept.
The rest of us quickly turned away to give them at least the semblance of privacy as we finished setting the camp, gathering the wood and starting the water that would soon house a couple of briefly-surprised roosters. Furge dispatched them with the simple expedient of grabbing each by the throat and twirling once, snapping the little critters' necks in an instant. Lavic and I decided to simply skin them instead of trying to pluck the birds. Plucking took forever, but skinning was a messy operation at the best of times. We went well out of camp to do so and sand-washed ourselves to remove the gore before returning with the carcasses.
The water was nicely bubbling with some salt and herbs infusing it, along with something that looked like an onion but smelled more like garlic. My stomach growled loud enough to get chuckles. The smell was amazing. Say'f pulled the oniony-things out, indicating they'd done their work, before we added the chicken.
About then, an extremely red-faced and (I knew, though I couldn't see it) even redder assed P'yetury came back with a very severe-looking Bu gripping his shoulder. "I'm--"
"Stop! You look at Kucuk as you apologise."
The boy looked at me with red-rimmed eyes that showed genuine remorse. "I am really, really sorry, Kucuk. It was r-r-r-r-r-r-wrong and I'll n-n-n-never do it again. I will, um... I will do what you and the others tell me and I won't, um, uh...?"
"Talk back, argue or play games." Bu prompted.
"...talk back, argue or play games when you use a serious tone like that." He looked up to Bu hopefully.
"Ask."
The poor boy couldn't look at us at all no matter what Bu might have threatened him with. "D-D-D-D-Do you and the rest of the guys... trust me, still?"
Furge spoke first. "Trust is earned, but I'm willing to trust you as long as you don't pull any more stupid stunts like that."
Say'f and Pyrkagia nodded since they never spoke until it was essential. Billen and Lavic nodded, looking more sympathetic than I thought was warranted. Grubo grunted his assent, clearly not pleased. Volot looked to me for the longest time and then said, "Everyone deserves a second chance."
I blushed, knowing just what he was referring to and finally spoke. "You scared the hell out of me, P'yetury. If you swear a true oath," I glared at him and his eyes widened; I was demanding an oath dedicated to the One True God, "I will trust you. But I will hear the oath from your lips tonight before bed. Think hard on this, P'yetury. Do not take it lightly." Bu pushed him a little and he ran up and threw his arms around me.
"Thank you Kucuk. Thank you! Thank all of you!" He proceeded to hug everyone in turn, Grubo not at all pleased which amused everyone but him.
My master's voice rumbled to life. "Friend-Bu, do you then intend to keep this... creature with us?" P'yetury spun to Harcos then to Bu, his face a mask of hope and gut-churning terror at what the answer might be.
"I do." Bu's voice was serious but clearly pleased. The boy's chin started to wobble and his eyes started to leak.
"I think that P'yetury is damned hard to say, and that this young creature needs a better name."
"I second Harcos," Sziklak intoned.
"This from a man who can barely pronounce his own name and the rest of have to call 'you'?" Pameten jested, getting a scowl. "But I agree with Servus Harcos and 'sizzle-lackey' here. A name is fair."
Bu smiled slowly as P'yetury started the gnaw on his lower lip, shifting worried from one foot to the other. "That is easily done." He stooped a little so he could put both hands on the boy's shoulders. He stared into P'yetury's eyes and said. "Will you be my Kapik?"
The newly-minted Kapik cried and laughed at once as he flung himself into Bu's chest. "Yes! Yes, warrior-Bu, yes!" He finally calmed enough to step back and search Bu's laughing eyes. "But does Kapik have more than a pleasing sound? Has it a meaning?"
"Wellllllll," Bu drawled out, "since Pameten has his Bull Ox and Harcos has his Puppy, I decided it was only right to name you for what you seem most like. Kapik means 'monkey' in my tongue. So, will you be my little monkey?" In more than mere confirmation, the monkey-boy climbed Bu like he'd done the cliff to plant a huge kiss on the warrior's surprised face. The entire camp roared with laughter.
Big thanks to Beta Readers ijk, Jack and Zach, who made this story readable.
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