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fellowshippers2006-10-14 11:04 am
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-10-14 11:04 am
Brethren, Chapter Thirteen
Title: Brethren 13/15
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
saura_
Pairing: VM/DM, SB/EW
Rating: hard R this part
Disclaimer: Clearly not true.
Summary: Sex, pretty much. Well, not quite. Cause I'm a tease. You'll see.
Previous Chapters
Late in the third afternoon, Viggo and Dominic reached the native settlement.
For Dominic, it was anti-climatic in a way. The natives were extremely kind to them, especially when Viggo introduced himself in their own tongue. From what Viggo gave him by way of translation, Dominic gathered that the people here knew Viggo’s name, and had heard of the protection he had brought for the children of other tribes by offering them a place in the white community. Though they were cautious around white people, especially the English and Scottish, they had heard that Viggo respected their native customs and traditions and brought them hope.
They agreed to host Viggo and his young traveling companion, to allow them audience with the chief and other Elders of society, and to exchange news and gifts. This was a very positive reception, Viggo assured Dominic, and they couldn’t have hoped for much more.
As the women of the community prepared dinner, Dominic and Viggo were able to look around the settlement and see how everything was arranged.
Dominic was particularly surprised to see a few women working on building one of the stick-and-mud houses the natives slept in, until Viggo explained to him that work was divided differently here and women were responsible for the home. Because some men had more than one wife, the wives were responsible for their own homes and children, where the men would be responsible for hunting, building canoes, and some other forms of labour.
Dominic noticed that the women were very physically strong as a result, and even the children seemed used to performing certain tasks that would never have been delegated to them in a white community.
As they walked around, Dominic took it all in with wide eyes, processing Viggo’s explanations along with his observations and trying to put together a picture in his head of how this society worked.
Dinner was a grand affair, and Dom felt more content than he had in weeks, sitting around a huge bonfire with a full stomach as he watched the natives talk amongst themselves, many smiling and sharing embraces with their kin. The society was very close-knit, Viggo explained, partly due to the division of labour he had described earlier. Elderly members of the community, as well as children, were revered, and ill or infirm members were protected and provided for by the community at large. The structure, though very unlike English society, wasn’t all that unlike the Moravian structure of Bethlehem, and Dominic recognized common elements both in his observations and what Viggo taught him.
However, he was at the same time fascinated to watch the natives talking in their unfamiliar tongue, and especially shocked to watch the women, who did not wear anything to cover their breasts but occasional jeweled necklaces for the wives of the chief. The men, too, went without shirts, and Dominic was embarrassed to note his gaze drifting repeatedly to their bare chests, some streaked with a kind of paint, and a couple pierced with thin bone.
Somewhat to Dominic’s relief after his unsettling dream of Viggo and Elijah in the fire the previous night, there were no ceremonial dances or odd chanting. It wasn’t time for the harvest or a special feast day, Viggo explained when Dominic casually asked him about the elaborate rituals he had heard stories about. Such rituals, whose descriptions had filtered into white society and to Dominic’s ears, took place only on certain days of the year.
Today being a fairly average day, Dominic and Viggo were led a couple of hours after sundown to a lodging made of wood and mud and bid a good night’s rest. Their horses were tied up outside the settlement and would be cared for. Dominic was well-fed and his curiosity was satisfied, so he bid Viggo good night and curled up under his blanket, letting the steady breathing of his mentor a foot away lull him to sleep.
A few hours into the night, Dominic was awoken by a pressing need to relieve his bladder. The dwelling in which they slept was completely dark, but when he moved the skin covering the doorway to the side, he found that the moon was beautiful and almost full, covering the sleeping settlement with its pale blue light.
The public areas were almost empty, the tribesmen and women sleeping in their lodgings, which were built in clusters all around the central area of the fire and public buildings. There were a few men sitting around the fire to watch its progress and guard against intruders, but they ignored Dominic, evidently guessing his purpose. Choosing a path to the east, Dominic headed towards the woods for a private spot to do his business, and found a wide tree, which suited his purposes nicely.
Lowering his nightshift again, Dominic picked his way back along the path he had found towards the hut where he and Viggo were staying, but was surprised to hear what sounded like a pained cry from one of the dwellings near the path. For a moment, Dominic paused, not sure what to do—if a man were hurting his wife, which seemed the most likely explanation within one of these buildings so late at night, it was hardly his place to interfere. In Bethlehem, the community did punish such domestic incidents, but Dominic also knew that minor conflicts were often ignored by the Christian authority, and he had no idea what tribal laws would dictate in this case.
Nevertheless, Dominic was curious, and could not completely ignore what he heard, so he crept cautiously to the side of the lodging, finding a small hole in the wall between branches that was not properly patched with mud, possibly due to weather damage. Squatting by the hole, Dominic looked from side to side to ensure no one was watching, and then drew closer, peering inside.
Dominic’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the inside of the dwelling—a young boy, a little younger than himself, was positioned on his hands and knees, in profile to Dominic. It was quite dark inside, but a bit of moonlight crept in around the sides of the skin door flap, and Dominic could tell that the boy was entirely naked. The same was also true of a man, perhaps thirty years old, on his knees behind the youth, his hands grasping the boy’s hips.
Dominic hardly had time to process the situation—was this the coupling Viggo had spoke of, and if so, why was the boy functioning as the woman rather than the man?—before the youth cried out again. Dominic wondered if he should do something; should intervene. After all, tribal custom or not, the boy was clearly in pain—the man was penetrating him, and though Dominic had gathered that was what Viggo meant in his explanation, he didn’t really want to believe it. However, before Dominic could make up his mind, the older man changed his angle slightly, thrust deeper into the boy’s body, and the boy moaned aloud, not in pain but in pleasure.
Dominic’s eyes went wide, and he knew he should draw back, run back to Viggo and try to forget what he had seen in favour of some sleep, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t look away from this sight, from a coupling that was—he now had to admit—beautiful. The youth’s moans became more frequent as the man’s arm slid around the youth’s chest, pulling him backwards so that the boy’s back aligned with the man’s chest. Dominic gulped hard when the man bent his head, capturing the boy’s lips in a kiss that was returned with passionate vigour, and from this angle Dominic could now clearly see the boy’s penis—hard, dark with desire—sliding back and forth within the older man’s fist.
Dominic’s thoughts turned to his own hand, the morning before, stroking back and forth of its own accord as he stared at Viggo’s muscled back, and then another thought came to him, unbidden but stubborn, not willing to dissipate. What if it hadn’t been his hand, but Viggo’s? What would Viggo’s hand feel like, scarred and calloused with years of hard work, sliding back and forth on his cock as this native man’s did on the boy?
As Dominic watched the boy’s body tense, the boy’s scream swallowed by the man’s lips, a thin fluid leaking through the man’s fingers, he realized with horror that his own cock was rock hard.
Dominic marveled at the tenderness of the older man as he came, then lowered the youth down to the pallet on the floor, whispering words of love in a tongue Dominic did not understand, but knew the intent of. The youth’s face was content, his expression blissful and sated as the man stroked his hair and his back, clearly caring for the boy beyond the immediate animal act.
Dominic felt his chest tighten with jealousy, with a desire to feel that same tenderness coupled with carnal passion. He felt the waves of jealousy increase as he pictured the Viggo and Elijah of his dream, locked in a passionate kiss, some otherworldly magic protecting them from the flames that consumed them. Dominic shot to his feet, tugged stubbornly on his shift, and hurried back to his own pallet.
The sounds of the night were amplified in Dominic’s ears—the hooting of a night owl, the rustling of the wind through the leaves—as he sank to his knees once again on the dusty ground, scattered with pine straw. He fitted his eye once again to the crack, and watched as the man took his young love, this time closer to where Dominic sat, so that he could see everything.
He saw the way the man’s hand threaded through the boy’s hair, the way his other palm stroked the boy’s chest, the way the boy moaned with complete abandon, surrendering himself to his desires.
Dominic watched. And as he watched, he let one of his own hands drift, up his naked thigh and underneath the coarse linen of his shift. He moaned, softly, as his fingers brushed thick curly hair, but the man and the boy did not hear him, caught up in their passion as they were.
His hand curled purposefully around the stiff organ that was its destination, his other hand scrabbling ineffectually at the dirt, holding him up on hand and knees as he tried to press closer to the hole in the wall, twigs scratching his face.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?”
Dominic gasped, felt his hand instinctively speed up, pushed back unconsciously against the form suddenly pressed against his rear, straddling his calves, gently stroking his back. He recognized the words from his dream, but the accent was different. Not Scottish this time, the voice was soft and American; familiar. He felt hard flesh press against his buttocks, and moaned wantonly as a strong hand pulled him up, flush against the hard planes of a muscled chest. He watched as the peephole transformed to a full window before his eyes, the boy in front of him mirroring his posture against his mentor as Dominic’s head dropped back against his own mentor’s shoulder.
“Viggo,” he whispered, hoarsely, as a rough hand slid around his penis, clasping his own hand, then gently brushing it aside.
“Yes, Dominic. My beautiful Dominic.” Dominic sighed as Viggo’s other hand left his chest, tracing down his side until Dominic was shivering uncontrollably. He felt that hand wrap around his own, hanging limply at his side and stained with dirt, and turned his head just in time to see Viggo’s lips close around his fingers, kissing earth and flesh at once, sealing their fate with a silent benediction.
“Look again,” Viggo murmured against Dominic’s ear.
Dominic turned, and gasped, as the native couple was gone, replaced by duplicates of himself and Viggo, moving in passion before his eyes as Dominic groaned. His other self, caught in Viggo’s fiery embrace, moaned in an echo of his own non-verbal plea, and Dominic screamed as he felt a dull push from behind. Viggo’s rough fingers slid over his right nipple as Viggo’s cock opened him, laying him bare and vulnerable. Dominic bucked back, moaning, watching what was happening as it happened, taken and witnessing the taking.
“Viggo, Viggo, Viggo…” he murmured, desperately, his hips canting in an impossible rhythm. So close…
“Viggo!” Dominic felt himself come, hard, hips still thrusting into his own hand, a split second before he felt lucidity dawn, along with the morning light. His eyes opened, fearing the worst, and immediately locked with Viggo’s—vibrant blue and intent. Hungry.
Dominic gasped.
Dominic moaned.
Seventy miles from the Allegheny River Indian settlement where Dominic and Viggo were spending the night, Elijah arched his back, a silent cry caught in his throat. His lips were parted, his hair was matted to his face with sweat, and his fingers gripped the wooden rails of Billy’s headboard as Sean sealed their union for the third time since the previous night.
As Sean slowly lowered himself down next to Elijah, the younger man sighed happily, curling himself into Sean’s arms and snuggling close, tugging the flannel blanket up around their quickly cooling bodies in the morning air.
“Morning, beautiful.”
Elijah smiled at the tender words, coupled with a soft kiss to his temple, and wrapped his arms tighter around Sean’s waist, letting his eyes drift shut and hoping for a few more precious hours of sleep after quite a pleasant wakeup call.
“Good morning, indeed,” he mumbled, his lips brushing Sean’s chest.
“You know we have to go back as soon as possible. We’ll be missed,” Sean pointed out, as he stroked Elijah’s back with his fingertips, his voice heavy with regret.
“So don’t go back,” Elijah mumbled, refusing to loosen his hold. “Let’s run away together,” he mumbled, sleepy with post-coital pleasure.
Sean sighed. “We can’t do that, love. You don’t just run away and expect everything to be okay. Where would we go?”
“To the woods. To the Indians. They’ll take me in, I know. I’m a hard worker, and you can work with your hands, can’t you? You’re a strong man…” Elijah smiled, his eyes blinking open as he smoothed his hands over Sean’s pectorals to emphasize his point.
“Yes, but I can’t just run to an Indian village, Elijah… I don’t know anything about their culture…”
“I’ll teach you. Viggo can help.”
“Viggo’s happy in Bethlehem.”
“And would be just as happy out of Bethlehem, I suspect.” Elijah groaned as he sat up, reluctantly admitting that the few hours of sleep he’d hoped for weren’t happening. “Come, Sean. You want to be with me, don’t you?”
Sean nodded eagerly, brushing his hand through Elijah’s hair and trying to convey his acceptance of the situation. He didn’t want to give up on what he and Elijah could have, he just wasn’t sure how they could abandon the community they’d put so much into.
“Well then come with me, run away with me. You know we can’t live within their rules, Sean. We’ll be punished, or we’ll have to hide all the time. I believe that you’re a man of God,” he mused, fingering the gold cross that Sean had slept in. “But I don’t believe that you’re a man of those hypocritical ministers and people who blindly follow what’s told to them without bothering to consult and study the Scriptures themselves. You’re better than that, Sean,” Elijah insisted, kissing Sean briefly on the lips.
“I’m not telling you to give up on God,” Elijah continued. “I haven’t. But the natives do have religion, and I think they’re quite nearer to the point. If you want to set up a ministry, do it in the backcountry, among the native peoples. I’ll help you, I bet Viggo would help you. Dominic too, probably. The four of us could start something really worth fighting for, you know? I want to be able to discuss religion, to debate it. Viggo and I can help you learn the language, and you can spend the rest of your days teaching the young natives and talking to the Elders about your beliefs. Bring your Bible, Sean, I’m not telling you to forsake that—but why don’t you be the first white man to teach love, forgiveness, the kind of acceptance that Jesus himself stood for? Be the first not to condemn men who love in their hearts, simply because the type of love they practice seems unusual. You’re an intelligent man, and I want you to use your gifts. But you have to understand—as progressive as Bethlehem is, it still sees our love as a sin. And I can’t stand for that.”
Sean was silent for a long moment, still stroking Elijah’s back as he contemplated his words. The lad had a point, certainly. But this would be a big leap, bigger even than accepting Elijah into his heart unconditionally as he had last night. This meant possible danger, a culture beyond anything in Sean’s own experience. Could a poor labourer’s son from England find love, enjoyment, and salvation all in one lifetime, and among strange peoples who lived in the woods thousands of leagues away from home? Sean wasn’t sure.
“Please, Sean. For me,” Elijah begged, and Sean sighed.
“If we do this, we have to really do it. We’ll start out after breakfast, head to the settlement where Viggo and Dominic are. If we ride hard, we’ll reach it in two days, and hopefully we can catch them while they’re still there. Then we can decide what to do from there, all of us. We’ll have to let the horses free, though. I’m not a thief, Elijah.”
Elijah nodded happily. “That’s fine, of course. If we leave with no crimes on our back, no one will come after us. They’ll look, for a little while, but they’ll have to give up eventually.’
“I just don’t know if you realize what you’re doing, lad. You put too much hope in me.”
“Only as much as I think you should have in yourself,” Elijah replied softly.
“I’m not an intelligent man, Elijah. You’re wrong about that. I was born poor, I worked with my hands, I never was educated outside of what I leaned to become a minister…”
“But your heart is intelligent, Sean,” Elijah interrupted, placing a small hand over the left side of Sean’s chest. “Your experiences have made you stronger, much more than any formal education. I’m proud of you, so proud of you…” Elijah broke off, pressing kisses all over Sean’s face, and when he finally pulled away there were tears in Sean’s eyes.
“This isn’t going to be easy, lad.”
“Yeah, but was it ever really? I love you, and that’s enough to give me strength.”
Sean smiled, and took Elijah’s face in his hands, delivering a long, slow kiss. “I love you as well, God help me, Elijah. You give me hope.”
Elijah grinned and pressed a childish kiss to the bridge of Sean’s nose. “That’s all I could ask for. Now c’mon, you big oaf, let me up so I can make some breakfast.”
“Oaf! I’ll show you who you’re calling oaf!”
Elijah’s giggles echoed loudly in the clear autumn air, and Sean grinned wider than he had in a long time as he held Elijah under him, ready for whatever the world had in store next.
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Beta:
saura_Pairing: VM/DM, SB/EW
Rating: hard R this part
Disclaimer: Clearly not true.
Summary: Sex, pretty much. Well, not quite. Cause I'm a tease. You'll see.
Previous Chapters
Late in the third afternoon, Viggo and Dominic reached the native settlement.
For Dominic, it was anti-climatic in a way. The natives were extremely kind to them, especially when Viggo introduced himself in their own tongue. From what Viggo gave him by way of translation, Dominic gathered that the people here knew Viggo’s name, and had heard of the protection he had brought for the children of other tribes by offering them a place in the white community. Though they were cautious around white people, especially the English and Scottish, they had heard that Viggo respected their native customs and traditions and brought them hope.
They agreed to host Viggo and his young traveling companion, to allow them audience with the chief and other Elders of society, and to exchange news and gifts. This was a very positive reception, Viggo assured Dominic, and they couldn’t have hoped for much more.
As the women of the community prepared dinner, Dominic and Viggo were able to look around the settlement and see how everything was arranged.
Dominic was particularly surprised to see a few women working on building one of the stick-and-mud houses the natives slept in, until Viggo explained to him that work was divided differently here and women were responsible for the home. Because some men had more than one wife, the wives were responsible for their own homes and children, where the men would be responsible for hunting, building canoes, and some other forms of labour.
Dominic noticed that the women were very physically strong as a result, and even the children seemed used to performing certain tasks that would never have been delegated to them in a white community.
As they walked around, Dominic took it all in with wide eyes, processing Viggo’s explanations along with his observations and trying to put together a picture in his head of how this society worked.
Dinner was a grand affair, and Dom felt more content than he had in weeks, sitting around a huge bonfire with a full stomach as he watched the natives talk amongst themselves, many smiling and sharing embraces with their kin. The society was very close-knit, Viggo explained, partly due to the division of labour he had described earlier. Elderly members of the community, as well as children, were revered, and ill or infirm members were protected and provided for by the community at large. The structure, though very unlike English society, wasn’t all that unlike the Moravian structure of Bethlehem, and Dominic recognized common elements both in his observations and what Viggo taught him.
However, he was at the same time fascinated to watch the natives talking in their unfamiliar tongue, and especially shocked to watch the women, who did not wear anything to cover their breasts but occasional jeweled necklaces for the wives of the chief. The men, too, went without shirts, and Dominic was embarrassed to note his gaze drifting repeatedly to their bare chests, some streaked with a kind of paint, and a couple pierced with thin bone.
Somewhat to Dominic’s relief after his unsettling dream of Viggo and Elijah in the fire the previous night, there were no ceremonial dances or odd chanting. It wasn’t time for the harvest or a special feast day, Viggo explained when Dominic casually asked him about the elaborate rituals he had heard stories about. Such rituals, whose descriptions had filtered into white society and to Dominic’s ears, took place only on certain days of the year.
Today being a fairly average day, Dominic and Viggo were led a couple of hours after sundown to a lodging made of wood and mud and bid a good night’s rest. Their horses were tied up outside the settlement and would be cared for. Dominic was well-fed and his curiosity was satisfied, so he bid Viggo good night and curled up under his blanket, letting the steady breathing of his mentor a foot away lull him to sleep.
A few hours into the night, Dominic was awoken by a pressing need to relieve his bladder. The dwelling in which they slept was completely dark, but when he moved the skin covering the doorway to the side, he found that the moon was beautiful and almost full, covering the sleeping settlement with its pale blue light.
The public areas were almost empty, the tribesmen and women sleeping in their lodgings, which were built in clusters all around the central area of the fire and public buildings. There were a few men sitting around the fire to watch its progress and guard against intruders, but they ignored Dominic, evidently guessing his purpose. Choosing a path to the east, Dominic headed towards the woods for a private spot to do his business, and found a wide tree, which suited his purposes nicely.
Lowering his nightshift again, Dominic picked his way back along the path he had found towards the hut where he and Viggo were staying, but was surprised to hear what sounded like a pained cry from one of the dwellings near the path. For a moment, Dominic paused, not sure what to do—if a man were hurting his wife, which seemed the most likely explanation within one of these buildings so late at night, it was hardly his place to interfere. In Bethlehem, the community did punish such domestic incidents, but Dominic also knew that minor conflicts were often ignored by the Christian authority, and he had no idea what tribal laws would dictate in this case.
Nevertheless, Dominic was curious, and could not completely ignore what he heard, so he crept cautiously to the side of the lodging, finding a small hole in the wall between branches that was not properly patched with mud, possibly due to weather damage. Squatting by the hole, Dominic looked from side to side to ensure no one was watching, and then drew closer, peering inside.
Dominic’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the inside of the dwelling—a young boy, a little younger than himself, was positioned on his hands and knees, in profile to Dominic. It was quite dark inside, but a bit of moonlight crept in around the sides of the skin door flap, and Dominic could tell that the boy was entirely naked. The same was also true of a man, perhaps thirty years old, on his knees behind the youth, his hands grasping the boy’s hips.
Dominic hardly had time to process the situation—was this the coupling Viggo had spoke of, and if so, why was the boy functioning as the woman rather than the man?—before the youth cried out again. Dominic wondered if he should do something; should intervene. After all, tribal custom or not, the boy was clearly in pain—the man was penetrating him, and though Dominic had gathered that was what Viggo meant in his explanation, he didn’t really want to believe it. However, before Dominic could make up his mind, the older man changed his angle slightly, thrust deeper into the boy’s body, and the boy moaned aloud, not in pain but in pleasure.
Dominic’s eyes went wide, and he knew he should draw back, run back to Viggo and try to forget what he had seen in favour of some sleep, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t look away from this sight, from a coupling that was—he now had to admit—beautiful. The youth’s moans became more frequent as the man’s arm slid around the youth’s chest, pulling him backwards so that the boy’s back aligned with the man’s chest. Dominic gulped hard when the man bent his head, capturing the boy’s lips in a kiss that was returned with passionate vigour, and from this angle Dominic could now clearly see the boy’s penis—hard, dark with desire—sliding back and forth within the older man’s fist.
Dominic’s thoughts turned to his own hand, the morning before, stroking back and forth of its own accord as he stared at Viggo’s muscled back, and then another thought came to him, unbidden but stubborn, not willing to dissipate. What if it hadn’t been his hand, but Viggo’s? What would Viggo’s hand feel like, scarred and calloused with years of hard work, sliding back and forth on his cock as this native man’s did on the boy?
As Dominic watched the boy’s body tense, the boy’s scream swallowed by the man’s lips, a thin fluid leaking through the man’s fingers, he realized with horror that his own cock was rock hard.
Dominic marveled at the tenderness of the older man as he came, then lowered the youth down to the pallet on the floor, whispering words of love in a tongue Dominic did not understand, but knew the intent of. The youth’s face was content, his expression blissful and sated as the man stroked his hair and his back, clearly caring for the boy beyond the immediate animal act.
Dominic felt his chest tighten with jealousy, with a desire to feel that same tenderness coupled with carnal passion. He felt the waves of jealousy increase as he pictured the Viggo and Elijah of his dream, locked in a passionate kiss, some otherworldly magic protecting them from the flames that consumed them. Dominic shot to his feet, tugged stubbornly on his shift, and hurried back to his own pallet.
The sounds of the night were amplified in Dominic’s ears—the hooting of a night owl, the rustling of the wind through the leaves—as he sank to his knees once again on the dusty ground, scattered with pine straw. He fitted his eye once again to the crack, and watched as the man took his young love, this time closer to where Dominic sat, so that he could see everything.
He saw the way the man’s hand threaded through the boy’s hair, the way his other palm stroked the boy’s chest, the way the boy moaned with complete abandon, surrendering himself to his desires.
Dominic watched. And as he watched, he let one of his own hands drift, up his naked thigh and underneath the coarse linen of his shift. He moaned, softly, as his fingers brushed thick curly hair, but the man and the boy did not hear him, caught up in their passion as they were.
His hand curled purposefully around the stiff organ that was its destination, his other hand scrabbling ineffectually at the dirt, holding him up on hand and knees as he tried to press closer to the hole in the wall, twigs scratching his face.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?”
Dominic gasped, felt his hand instinctively speed up, pushed back unconsciously against the form suddenly pressed against his rear, straddling his calves, gently stroking his back. He recognized the words from his dream, but the accent was different. Not Scottish this time, the voice was soft and American; familiar. He felt hard flesh press against his buttocks, and moaned wantonly as a strong hand pulled him up, flush against the hard planes of a muscled chest. He watched as the peephole transformed to a full window before his eyes, the boy in front of him mirroring his posture against his mentor as Dominic’s head dropped back against his own mentor’s shoulder.
“Viggo,” he whispered, hoarsely, as a rough hand slid around his penis, clasping his own hand, then gently brushing it aside.
“Yes, Dominic. My beautiful Dominic.” Dominic sighed as Viggo’s other hand left his chest, tracing down his side until Dominic was shivering uncontrollably. He felt that hand wrap around his own, hanging limply at his side and stained with dirt, and turned his head just in time to see Viggo’s lips close around his fingers, kissing earth and flesh at once, sealing their fate with a silent benediction.
“Look again,” Viggo murmured against Dominic’s ear.
Dominic turned, and gasped, as the native couple was gone, replaced by duplicates of himself and Viggo, moving in passion before his eyes as Dominic groaned. His other self, caught in Viggo’s fiery embrace, moaned in an echo of his own non-verbal plea, and Dominic screamed as he felt a dull push from behind. Viggo’s rough fingers slid over his right nipple as Viggo’s cock opened him, laying him bare and vulnerable. Dominic bucked back, moaning, watching what was happening as it happened, taken and witnessing the taking.
“Viggo, Viggo, Viggo…” he murmured, desperately, his hips canting in an impossible rhythm. So close…
“Viggo!” Dominic felt himself come, hard, hips still thrusting into his own hand, a split second before he felt lucidity dawn, along with the morning light. His eyes opened, fearing the worst, and immediately locked with Viggo’s—vibrant blue and intent. Hungry.
Dominic gasped.
Dominic moaned.
Seventy miles from the Allegheny River Indian settlement where Dominic and Viggo were spending the night, Elijah arched his back, a silent cry caught in his throat. His lips were parted, his hair was matted to his face with sweat, and his fingers gripped the wooden rails of Billy’s headboard as Sean sealed their union for the third time since the previous night.
As Sean slowly lowered himself down next to Elijah, the younger man sighed happily, curling himself into Sean’s arms and snuggling close, tugging the flannel blanket up around their quickly cooling bodies in the morning air.
“Morning, beautiful.”
Elijah smiled at the tender words, coupled with a soft kiss to his temple, and wrapped his arms tighter around Sean’s waist, letting his eyes drift shut and hoping for a few more precious hours of sleep after quite a pleasant wakeup call.
“Good morning, indeed,” he mumbled, his lips brushing Sean’s chest.
“You know we have to go back as soon as possible. We’ll be missed,” Sean pointed out, as he stroked Elijah’s back with his fingertips, his voice heavy with regret.
“So don’t go back,” Elijah mumbled, refusing to loosen his hold. “Let’s run away together,” he mumbled, sleepy with post-coital pleasure.
Sean sighed. “We can’t do that, love. You don’t just run away and expect everything to be okay. Where would we go?”
“To the woods. To the Indians. They’ll take me in, I know. I’m a hard worker, and you can work with your hands, can’t you? You’re a strong man…” Elijah smiled, his eyes blinking open as he smoothed his hands over Sean’s pectorals to emphasize his point.
“Yes, but I can’t just run to an Indian village, Elijah… I don’t know anything about their culture…”
“I’ll teach you. Viggo can help.”
“Viggo’s happy in Bethlehem.”
“And would be just as happy out of Bethlehem, I suspect.” Elijah groaned as he sat up, reluctantly admitting that the few hours of sleep he’d hoped for weren’t happening. “Come, Sean. You want to be with me, don’t you?”
Sean nodded eagerly, brushing his hand through Elijah’s hair and trying to convey his acceptance of the situation. He didn’t want to give up on what he and Elijah could have, he just wasn’t sure how they could abandon the community they’d put so much into.
“Well then come with me, run away with me. You know we can’t live within their rules, Sean. We’ll be punished, or we’ll have to hide all the time. I believe that you’re a man of God,” he mused, fingering the gold cross that Sean had slept in. “But I don’t believe that you’re a man of those hypocritical ministers and people who blindly follow what’s told to them without bothering to consult and study the Scriptures themselves. You’re better than that, Sean,” Elijah insisted, kissing Sean briefly on the lips.
“I’m not telling you to give up on God,” Elijah continued. “I haven’t. But the natives do have religion, and I think they’re quite nearer to the point. If you want to set up a ministry, do it in the backcountry, among the native peoples. I’ll help you, I bet Viggo would help you. Dominic too, probably. The four of us could start something really worth fighting for, you know? I want to be able to discuss religion, to debate it. Viggo and I can help you learn the language, and you can spend the rest of your days teaching the young natives and talking to the Elders about your beliefs. Bring your Bible, Sean, I’m not telling you to forsake that—but why don’t you be the first white man to teach love, forgiveness, the kind of acceptance that Jesus himself stood for? Be the first not to condemn men who love in their hearts, simply because the type of love they practice seems unusual. You’re an intelligent man, and I want you to use your gifts. But you have to understand—as progressive as Bethlehem is, it still sees our love as a sin. And I can’t stand for that.”
Sean was silent for a long moment, still stroking Elijah’s back as he contemplated his words. The lad had a point, certainly. But this would be a big leap, bigger even than accepting Elijah into his heart unconditionally as he had last night. This meant possible danger, a culture beyond anything in Sean’s own experience. Could a poor labourer’s son from England find love, enjoyment, and salvation all in one lifetime, and among strange peoples who lived in the woods thousands of leagues away from home? Sean wasn’t sure.
“Please, Sean. For me,” Elijah begged, and Sean sighed.
“If we do this, we have to really do it. We’ll start out after breakfast, head to the settlement where Viggo and Dominic are. If we ride hard, we’ll reach it in two days, and hopefully we can catch them while they’re still there. Then we can decide what to do from there, all of us. We’ll have to let the horses free, though. I’m not a thief, Elijah.”
Elijah nodded happily. “That’s fine, of course. If we leave with no crimes on our back, no one will come after us. They’ll look, for a little while, but they’ll have to give up eventually.’
“I just don’t know if you realize what you’re doing, lad. You put too much hope in me.”
“Only as much as I think you should have in yourself,” Elijah replied softly.
“I’m not an intelligent man, Elijah. You’re wrong about that. I was born poor, I worked with my hands, I never was educated outside of what I leaned to become a minister…”
“But your heart is intelligent, Sean,” Elijah interrupted, placing a small hand over the left side of Sean’s chest. “Your experiences have made you stronger, much more than any formal education. I’m proud of you, so proud of you…” Elijah broke off, pressing kisses all over Sean’s face, and when he finally pulled away there were tears in Sean’s eyes.
“This isn’t going to be easy, lad.”
“Yeah, but was it ever really? I love you, and that’s enough to give me strength.”
Sean smiled, and took Elijah’s face in his hands, delivering a long, slow kiss. “I love you as well, God help me, Elijah. You give me hope.”
Elijah grinned and pressed a childish kiss to the bridge of Sean’s nose. “That’s all I could ask for. Now c’mon, you big oaf, let me up so I can make some breakfast.”
“Oaf! I’ll show you who you’re calling oaf!”
Elijah’s giggles echoed loudly in the clear autumn air, and Sean grinned wider than he had in a long time as he held Elijah under him, ready for whatever the world had in store next.
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