by Johnny Miles
Arbol looked Alonso in the eye.
“We are no longer children,” Arbol said. “And you know I cannot do what you
ask of me.”
“Why? There's no one here but you and me.”
“It would not be right. You're master, and I'm…nothing. Just your slave.”
“But that's not true!” Alonso exclaimed defensively, inching closer. “You're…”
Alonso stopped and thought a moment. What could he say? What could they talk
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about that wouldn't constantly throw in their faces their circumstances? Was it
possible to be with someone who was in a different class, let alone a slave?
And yet the only thing Alonso knew was that he had grown very attached to
Arbol in a relatively short time. Nothing else mattered but that they were together
again.
An old memory, one he had forgotten, rose from wherever it resided and
wafted to the forefront of Alonso's mind. It was the two of them, sitting in Arbol's
small room, on that tiny cot. They were eating a piece of birthday cake.
“Do you remember…that birthday I sneaked into your room with a piece of
cake?”
Arbol chuckled. “Yes.”
“Life seemed much simpler then, didn't it?”
“We were children then, don de Rodrigo,” Arbol replied, his voice distant and
full of melancholy.
Alonso cleared his throat, thinking perhaps it might not be wise to revisit the
past. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable, so he did what his brother would
normally do and made light of the situation.
“I guess that's it, then? You won't call me Alonso?”
Arbol shook his head.
“Not even when we're alone?” Alonso insisted, finding it increasingly more
difficult to sit beside Arbol when all he wanted to do was kiss him. He had wanted
last night so desperately to be with Arbol. He had hoped all day for a quiet moment
together. But now that they were alone, he wasn't sure where to begin, how to
initiate the one thing he yearned for most—to be naked beside Arbol.
Alonso leaned in playfully. Arbol chuckled and pushed back slightly. No
matter how obvious Arbol's attraction, Alonso could still sense reluctance. There
were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to ask. But what
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was the point? He knew where Arbol had been all these years. He knew what he
had been doing. It wasn't as if he'd had much of a choice in his life.
He opened his mouth to speak at the same time as Arbol. They laughed
awkwardly.
“Please, don de… Ahhh, don Alonso,” Arbol said. “With all due respect…”
“No, please! You first. I wasn't going to say anything terribly important.”
Alonso looked into Arbol's searching eyes. They were large and deep brown, slightly
lighter than the rest of him, with black flints surrounding the pupils.
Alonso could not help but feel as if he were falling into a pool of water, so
warm, so open, so inviting that he could drown in Arbol's eyes.
“What were you going to say?” Alonso asked, drawing nearer to Arbol. Or was
Arbol drawing nearer to him?
“You…you should not have sent everyone home. Sundown isn't for a few hours
yet. Your father will be mad at you.”
“Why don't you let me worry about my father? Besides,” Alonso added, clearing
his throat nervously, “I wanted to spend some time alone with you.”
“With me, señor?” Arbol swallowed.
“Yes. Only…now that we're alone…together…I'm finding it a bit difficult to do
what I would like.” Alonso then turned away, somewhat embarrassed.
“You are not a slave,” Arbol pointed out. “Why should you be hesitant to do
what you wish? It is you who commands his own life.”
“You make me nervous,” Alonso blurted, surprising even himself.
“Me?” Arbol pulled back, startled. “I make you nervous? Why?”
“I don't know. You just do.”
“It is I who should feel nervous with you,” Arbol said. “I…I have more to lose.”
“There's no need to be nervous,” Alonso said, his voice husky. “And you will
lose nothing.” Trembling, his cock erect and protesting inside his pants, Alonso
leaned forward and kissed Arbol lightly on the lips.
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59
Arbol moaned ever so slightly and relaxed beside Alonso. It was all the signal
Alonso needed. He grabbed the back of Arbol's head with one hand and kissed him
fervently. Something inside his mind exploded in a million bursts of light. His flesh
tingled and his blood boiled as Arbol kissed him back with just as much ardor as he
had hoped for.
So this is what it's like. Arbol felt as if his breath had been taken away, sucked
out of him by the boy he had never forgotten. No. Definitely not a boy. A man. The
man who for some reason refused to ever leave his mind. The memory of his face
had grown indistinct in the fourteen years Arbol had been on the island, but he
could never forget the feeling of Alonso's spirit, his energy. That had always felt
very near, very strong, very powerful.
There were times when he thought he was being foolish by clinging to a
memory that was barely more than a feeling, something so small and so
insignificant, yet gave him hope through the darkest of nights.
And now here he was.
Alonso wrapped his arms around him, encircling him. He felt safe and
comfortable in these arms. In these arms, he would never be taken advantage of. In
these arms, he would be safe. In these arms, he would find the closest thing to
freedom he had ever known. Arbol wrapped his own arms, long and brown, around
Alonso's neck. He opened his mouth wider to accept the probing tongue battling his
own, rubbing against his teeth, the inside of his lips.
He could feel Alonso's breath, hot and wild as he snorted and became more
insistent. Alonso's arms were suddenly everywhere, groping at him, the weight of
Alonso's body pushing him back against the large, flattened rock.
Arbol groaned, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He could feel the young
master's erection, throbbing fast and furious, so huge, against his very own.
“Arbol!” Alonso whispered harshly, pulling back slightly to look down into
Arbol's eyes.
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“Yes, Alonso?” Arbol asked, forgetting himself, his place, but uncaring of his
audacity.
“You cannot believe how I have wanted you. Ever since I saw you yesterday,
since I touched you. Is this wrong?”
“I don't know if it's wrong, Alonso. But I have wanted it too. I have never
forgotten you.”
And with that, Arbol pulled Alonso down toward him and wrapped his legs
around him, wanting Alonso more than he had ever wanted anything in his young
life.
He reached between their bodies and groped at Alonso's cock.
“My God!” Arbol moaned, looking up into Alonso's eyes. “You're…huge!”
“Am I?” Alonso laughed, licking at Arbol's neck.
“Oh yes! Very huge,” Arbol said as he traced Alonso's inner thigh. “You must
have…many women back home. Many women who want you inside them.” Arbol
grasped A
lonso's cock. It throbbed hotly in his hand.
“I have no woman back home,” Alonso replied
“Men?” Arbol asked so freely and confidently. Alonso blushed a moment before
answering.
“No. No men either. But”—Alonso looked intently at Arbol—“there was this
one man, Tocino, on the ship; he thought I was large. He could never take me down
his throat. He always tried, but he never could.”
“Will you let me try?” Arbol asked. Alonso shot him a crooked half grin. Arbol
gently pushed at Alonso, his fingertips grazing his chest. He hated to have Alonso's
slick, glistening body off him even for a moment, but he was anxious to get a good
look at him.
Alonso stood and started to take off his clothes.
“No! Let me,” Arbol cried, and Alonso complied.
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Alonso enjoyed the thrill on Arbol's face as he slowly undressed and explored
his body. Arbol's hands, black and callous, were firm against his own sinewy flesh.
Alonso delighted in the sensation as Arbol felt his muscles, stroked him, caressed
him. Alonso sucked in his breath as Arbol's thumbs flicked at his nipples, then he
bit sharply, softly, his tongue teasing and swirling.
Arbol reached around and traced the curved hollow of his spine, the small of
his back, and cupped his buttocks. The slave pulled at his pants, and the pungent
scent of sweat and lust rose sharply. Alonso became very self-conscious suddenly.
“Come.” Alonso took Arbol's hand in his own. “Let's wash off in the lagoon.”
“Not until I've tasted you,” Arbol replied with a grin. “All of you.”
Alonso watched, mesmerized, as Arbol stared hungrily at his cock. He pulled
the foreskin back and licked at the tip, lapping at the clear, slick liquid that bubbled
and dripped copiously.
Alonso closed his eyes, threw his head back, and let himself enjoy Arbol's lips,
then his mouth as Arbol slowly moved his head back and forth.
Giving in to the pleasure, Alonso felt more and more of his cock disappear
down Arbol's throat, until, quite shockingly, he felt Arbol's lips pressed against the
very base of his shaft, his nose blowing hot, sharp air into his pubic hair.
Alonso was stunned by the sight and the pleasure of having someone take him
completely. He relished the tears welling up in Arbol's eyes. He took pride in seeing
the way Arbol's cheeks hollowed and his throat swelled.
But mostly, Alonso felt a rush coursing through his body as Arbol looked up at
him with longing, desire, and worship. It was that more than anything that sent
Alonso over the edge. He felt the familiar sensation building just behind his belly
button and slightly below.
Arbol pulled back to catch his breath; then he reached for Alonso's balls. He
rolled their weight in his hand. Alonso raised his hands to Arbol's ears and held him
in place as he pumped his hips—gently at first, then increasing in speed until he
cried out with a loud grunt.
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Alonso came forcefully, furiously, down Arbol's throat. Arbol pressed firmly,
just behind Alonso's balls, as he greedily gulped down every drop of his seed.
When Alonso finally stopped convulsing, Arbol withdrew, gasping for air.
“Dios mío!” Alonso's knees weakened. He reached down for Arbol's hand and
pulled him up. He held Arbol close, then kissed him full on the lips, tasting his own
cum and sweat on Arbol's tongue.
Without a word, Alonso took Arbol by the hand and, still clothed, pulled him
into the water with him.
In the lagoon, the two young men, master and slave, allowed themselves to
revert to their childhood and play with one another as innocently as they had once
done when they were boys in Spain.
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Chapter Eight
Even though he would have to face him sooner or later, Bernardo was
strangely relieved Raúl was not at home. Not even his butler seemed to know where
he had gone, which Bernardo found quite odd. Didn't Raúl keep his people
informed? If nothing else, at least the butler should have known.
And yet, after waiting a few minutes to see if Raúl would return, Bernardo
couldn't help the nagging feeling that no matter how justified he had been in
punching Raúl in the face, it was something that would come back to haunt him.
But he'd had enough of Raúl's taunts and humiliations. It was one thing to
insult him personally, treat him like a whore, or worse, pull him into the dirty,
filthy games Raúl liked to play. Bad enough to make him admit he enjoyed the type
of sex they had together. But to insult the mother of his children?
He had to take a stand somewhere.
Bernardo left the house, mounted his horse, and headed back home.
And so, lost in thought, Bernardo barely even noticed where he was until he
came upon the edge of the sugarcane fields that marked the start of his property.
He glanced down, regretting that he had drunk so much and slept so late that
he had missed the outing he and Alonso had planned.
But where are the slaves? He stopped the horse and looked around. The fields
were completely empty. As far as his eyes could see, there was no one.
“What…?” Bernardo muttered. “It's not even sundown!” He pushed the horse
forward a bit, then raced toward the slave quarters. He stopped at one of the first
houses he came to, and dismounted.
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Nana, the midwife, sat rocking on her porch. The small woman stood when she
saw him. As he approached, Bernardo could not help but wonder if the woman, like
Raúl, had sold her soul to the devil. She looked exactly the same as she had
fourteen years ago.
From the first moment he had met her, she had made him feel as if she were
poking about in his mind, searching for something in his heart. She was eerie, no
doubt about that. And yet he had taken an instant liking to her and trusted her
immediately.
Rumor had it, she had been the previous owner's plaything. He and Adelina
had agreed that no slave at Casa Rodrigo would be subjected to that expectation. He
had thought of selling Nana, but when he had learned that it was she who assisted
the slaves in bringing their children into the world, Bernardo had decided to keep
her. After all, who better to entrust a young boy like Arbol to than a woman who
helped bring life into the world?
“Don Bernardo!” Nana said, moving slowly toward him. “I heard you were
coming! Please forgive me for not coming to greet you yesterday. I took a spill, and
I'm still having a difficult time walking.”
“Sorry to hear that, Nana. But that's not why I've come.”
“Then to what do I owe the pleasure?” Nana asked curiously, a genuine smile
spreading across her face.
“Have you seen Arbol?”
“No, señor. He has not come home.”
“I don't suppose you know why there are no slaves in the fields?”
“But…don Bernardo, I…” Nana trailed off as if looking beyond. “Of course! I
should have known. I thought it was you who sent everyone home.”
“I did what?” Bernardo exclaimed loudly.
&n
bsp; “They said, 'El señor…don de Rodrigo.'“
“Maldita sea!” Damn it.
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Bernardo muttered furiously when he realized what had happened. “When I
find that boy, I'm going to skin him alive.” He turned and headed for his horse.
“Ahhh! Señor!” Nana called after him.
“What?” Bernardo said huffily, already mounted.
“Don Bernardo. If you please. I beg you. Do not be too hasty…or cruel…on your
son. He meant well. After all, he is your son. Oh! And you should have heard how
the slaves talked about him!” Nana clasped her hands together near her ample
bosom and seemed to practically glow.
“Be that as it may,” Bernardo explained. “Alonso knows better. He should
never have sent anyone away from the fields without consulting me first!” Bernardo
rode off, leaving a trail of dust behind him.
“Do you remember the games we used to play as children?” Alonso asked with
a fond smile.
“Some. But what I remember most was you bringing your father's Bible to my
room and pretending to read. And your stories. You told me about a Moor? A
Spanish lady?”
Alonso laughed. “It was one of my father's favorite stories. About
Abindarráez.” Alonso's voice suddenly took on a thoughtful tone as he continued
speaking. “A valiant…beautiful Moor captured by a Christian soldier.” Alonso
moved closer to Arbol. “He loved Jariffa so much, he begged to be released in order
to marry her.”
“And he promised to return,” Arbol finished.
Alonso stood inches away from Arbol. He placed a hand on Arbol's face and
kissed him lightly.
“I know it's not the same.” Alonso spoke quietly. “Not like in the story. But I've
returned.”
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Arbol's breath caught in his throat. He stood perfectly still, listening, his eyes
wide.
“What is it?” Alonso stood as well. He rubbed the water from his eyes.
“Ssshhh!” Arbol put a finger to his lips.