The Elder Man

by Katherine Wyvern

  Armin grinned.

  “They are working on it, man. Give them time.”

  “Oh, well, they need not hurry on account of me. I have all the time in the world.”

  Up at the house, the moment the door was closed behind him, Van pulled Armin into another of those addictive hugs, and they kissed for a minute or two, just standing there.

  “Let me give my front paws a wash, okay?” said Van when they parted. “Bedroom’s that way.”

  He winked and pointed to a few steps that went up from the living room, rough stone steps that, Armin realized, might be the solid rock of the hill itself. There was a narrow corridor after the steps, with a couple turns in it, and two small doors right and left, but Armin guessed that the bigger open doorway ahead was the bedroom.

  Inside, he fumbled for a switch, not sure if there would be one. Van’s house seemed to be lit mostly by candlelight. But to his relief there was a light here, a tolerable reading light by the bed.

  The room was not very large and more or less round. A rack of shelves built into the wall served as a wardrobe. There were a couple of old trunks at the foot of the bed and under a window. And a splendid bed, built with stones and cob, plastered and waxed smooth and shiny, like leather. It was piled high with a mattress and duvets and pillows. The nights were cool here, even at the beginning of June.

  At the head of the bed was sculpted a huge tree, which rose from a tangle of roots and interwoven grasses or creepers and spread on the walls and under the ceiling.

  It took a sort of knack, a subtle shift in vision and a certain familiarity with Van’s twisting and fractal designs, to realize that the tree was actually two slender stags, rearing up belly-to-belly, muzzles raised, legs grappling. Their massive leafy antlers spread up and out like a petrified fountain and ended in a foamy, lacy, semiformal trellis of finely tooled flower heads.

  The stags might be fighting, but seeing how their long cocks and serpentine tongues were entwined in two labyrinthine knots, they might also be doing something else entirely.

  Armin blinked, dumbfounded, then blinked again, and uncannily, the tree was just a tree once more.

  “Interesting décor,” he said as Van came into the room and hugged him from behind.

  “You like it?” asked Van, nuzzling into Armin’s neck and slipping his hands inside the waist of Armin’s jeans. He began leaving a trail of kisses along Armin’s shoulder, and his beard was both rough and ticklish and almost electric.

  “Oh hell yes, I like it,” whispered Armin, leaning against him. I was right, he thought as his shoulder blades pressed into Van’s chest, he is comfortable to snuggle up with. He let the gentle kissing reach the corner of his jaw, wishing it could go on forever, but then desire overcame him and he unbuttoned his trousers and let them slip to the floor.

  Van palmed his cock and balls through the stretchy fabric of his boxers. His other hand held Armin firmly pinned to his chest. So soft, so gentle, and so strong, all at once. Armin gave a long, sighing, purring moan. “Oh, man,” he whispered. “I’ve been wanting you all day. You stood there talking about sex, all dirty and sweaty and manly, and I had to behave…”

  “Well, you can misbehave now,” said Van, laughing against his neck, and Armin twisted in his arms to face him and kiss him and pull him toward the bed. They tumbled onto the mattress together, and Armin pulled at Van’s t-shirt and then his own and gave a long hoarse moan when Van lowered his head and put his lips around his nipples.

  “Oh my,” he whispered. I really have been alone for too long.

  He relished Van’s lips on his nipples for a minute or two, breathing heavily, and then he pushed Van down, and farther down, wiggled out of his boxers, and let himself be sucked for a little while. But it was just so good he worried he’d come there and then, and he finally pushed Van away and onto his back. He helped him out of his remaining clothes and then spread his legs, almost roughly, to stroke his cock, palm his balls, rub the crack of his ass.

  Van was half grinning, amused and surprised by Armin’s commanding abruptness—eh, you didn’t expect that, did you? Nobody ever does. I am such a sweet boy—and half moaning as his own urgency mounted.

  Armin took his cock into his mouth, finally, it was only fair, and blew him for a minute or two, but he didn’t want Van to come too early either, and in any case, the sight of Van’s stomach heaving with deep gasping breaths of pleasure was more than he could take.

  He let go of Van’s cock and lay on his body full length, pinning him down to lick his lips, his beard, his Adam’s apple.

  He gave a small growl when his questing cock became wedged between Van’s legs.

  “Could I… you know?” he whispered, rubbing the tip of his glans along Van’s crack and pausing meaningfully on his anus. He was not sure if Van was into being fucked at all. He had a vague idea that older men were rather into doing the reverse.

  But to his surprise, Van smiled, turned his face down to kiss him, and said, “Yes, sure.”

  That made Armin’s erection bounce up with excitement but also put him in a bit of a fix. He had a condom but no lube with him. Van seemed to perceive his hesitation, and he pointed a finger to a drawer in the bedside table. Armin opened it and was astonished to find a very, very fancy anal vibrator and a metal bottle of high-end, water-based lube.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, man. Cure for hysteria?”

  Van grinned.

  “I thought it was a female affliction,” said Armin, laughing while he retrieved a condom from his jeans.

  “What can I say? I must be in very close touch with my feminine side. I am extremely hysterical at times.”

  “Made in Germany and all.”

  “Clever guys, those Germans.”

  “Ja, Deutschland über alles,” said Armin sarcastically as he rolled the condom down his shaft. “And I thought you’d be more of a butter-and-olive-oil sort of fellow.”

  “Meh, you’ll have to go to the kitchen for that.”

  “No, no. I’m quite happy,” he said, laughing. “Just surprised.”

  Van shook his head and opened his mouth, taking a breath as if to comment, but then he didn’t and he just relaxed, stroking his own cock slowly while Armin squeezed lube into his hand to warm it up.

  He worked his well-lubed middle finger into Van’s anus for a minute or two, first just on the rim and then right in and deep, feeling the tight muscles giving in slowly to the pressure. Van was breathing deeper, and he spread his legs wide, invitingly. Armin stuck another finger inside him, watching in fascination, as he always did, his lover’s reactions as the stimulation increased. When Van gave a small, muffled moan, Armin extracted his fingers, spread abundant lube on his cock, and gently pressed its head to Van’s ring, spooning on his side behind him.

  Because he usually was so much taller than his lovers, and had some trouble finding the right alignment at times, he had finally concluded that this was his favorite position for fucking someone in the ass. Not that Van was that much shorter than him, but even so, he liked it this way. After the months of celibacy since Jonas had left, Armin had almost forgotten how very comfortable and wonderfully intimate it was to make love like this. He hugged Van tighter, nuzzling his face in Van’s hair and neck and shoulder with soft mmm’s and um’s of affection and pleasure. He pushed his cock in Van’s ass slowly, drawing back a few times, thrusting gently. He was not especially vain about his penis, but there was no point denying that he was well hung, something that his lovers didn’t always relish as much as they thought they would.

  He had no wish to make Van uncomfortable, or worse. He could be slightly dominant in bed when the mood took him, but he was not an asshole. He eased his way in a little at a time, reining in his urgency and pleasure, until he was deep, deep inside, and then he paused a moment, hugged the other man, and turned his face round to kiss him.

  “Mmm…” Van murmured softly between kisses.

  “Is that okay? Do you like it?” asked Armin, a lit
tle tense.

  “Yes,” said Van hoarsely, twisting round to pass an arm behind Armin’s head to draw him closer and kiss him deeper. He worked his hips slightly ’round and ’round, and Armin began to thrust again, very slowly. He put an elbow ’round Van’s knee and pulled it up to spread his legs even wider and heard a lower, growling moan when he pushed his cock in even deeper.

  ****

  Van

  As Armin got into his stride, each thrust drew a deep, humming, rumbling groan out of Van, with a muffled whimper here and there.

  He liked women. He liked men even better, in principle, but he very seldom found any to his taste. When he did, they tended to be exceptional in some way. Armin certainly was exceptional in more ways than one, not least for his beauty and charisma, both of which lay unseen, shrouded. The world had not seen them, nor Armin himself. But they lay there in abeyance, like a tight flower bud waiting for the morning sun.

  Van would see it unfold, if it was the last thing he did on earth.

  Another exceptional thing about Armin was his cock, and no mistake.

  In truth, Van had not had a male lover in a long time, let alone one so generously endowed, and his bliss, which was quite real—he was enjoying this—was nonetheless rather closer to pain than he liked to admit, especially as Armin’s pleasure mounted and he thrust harder and faster.

  Still, Van didn’t protest. He let himself melt around that hardness, offering his flesh to his lover without reserve, like deep rich earth embracing and nurturing and supporting seeds and roots. As he had done before, time and again in his long life, he made himself deep and gave his lover space to grow, literally and metaphorically.

  He bit down into his pillow in the end and let out a gasp of mixed pain, pleasure, relief, and regret when Armin held him even tighter and his body tensed and convulsed in the throes of orgasm. He had his face pressed into Van’s neck, his mouth open wide, letting out a hot, broken moan.

  “Oh… mmm… oh…” He relaxed slowly. His last moan was almost a kitten’s mewl, and Van felt the young man’s erection throbbing and deflating a little inside him.

  He gave a few deep breaths and finally turned to be kissed again, and Armin complied, a little distracted at first and then fervently. He let go of Van’s leg and fumbled for his cock instead, while he slowly pulled out of Van’s ass. Van flopped onto his back, drinking in the kisses, crazy with desire now that Armin was stroking him, slowly at first, then quicker, harder, so that all the pleasure that had been trapped inside him, stoked by the rough massage on his prostate, exploded finally, deeper, wider, longer than Van ever remembered. He uttered a small cry in Armin’s mouth as they still kissed and sperm splashed on their chests and chins and then trickled on Van’s stomach and into Armin’s hand.

  “Holy fuck,” said Van eventually, when the pleasure had gone through his body like an endless muscular wave, leaving him stranded and completely undone. Armin caressed his stomach and then kneaded the inside of his thighs, and the afterglow of Van’s orgasm made him purr like a big cat.

  “Holy fuck,” he repeated.

  Armin looked at him with a smile on his face. “Eloquent,” he said, and they both laughed.

  “Goodness, that was intense,” said Van, putting an arm around him and drawing him closer.

  Armin kissed him again. “Is everything in one piece down there? I didn’t hurt you, did I? I just … well, I always worry a little.”

  “I’m fine,” said Van. Though I might have a different view on the matter next time I try to move, walk, sit, or do anything at all rather than lay still, as flat as a bearskin. My God, he thought, he might be young, but he sure knows how to fuck. Only too well, perhaps.

  Armin turned on his back and removed the condom from his flagging cock, and they lay side by side for a while, too spent even to cuddle.

  “Can I sleep here?” asked Armin eventually, very softly and obviously already half asleep.

  “Of course,” whispered Van. He put an arm out to let the younger man snuggle closer and felt deeply, deeply at peace when Armin laid his head on his shoulder and folded a long leg over his thighs.

  ****

  Armin

  Later, at a perfectly dead dark hour of the night, Armin woke up next to Van’s quiet, warm body and rolled onto his side to snuggle closer. His cock bounced stiffly against Van’s side. Damn, I want to fuck him again already, he thought, half in shock, half in awe.

  He sidled up on Van’s supine body and nuzzled his face in the older man’s beard, finding a perfectly absurd amount of pleasure in rubbing himself into that graying bristly chin and jaw.

  He pushed his tongue into the place where Van’s moustache turned down to join his beard at the corner of his mouth, and then he licked Van’s lips open and kissed him deeply and ravenously.

  “Mmm,” said Van, waking up slowly, “mmm…”

  Armin didn’t let him speak. He began rubbing his cock on Van’s, not lightly and lazily but urgently, with desperate hunger, and Van gave up trying to speak and put his arms around him and held him.

  Armin ground on. He had been so lonely for what seemed like forever. It was less than a year since Jonas had left him, but he could not remember when the last time was he had been so full of uncomplicated, ecstatic lust and dazzling happiness, maybe even… love?

  He had been rejected in every sense by everyone he knew, and here he was, accepted and wanted and held, and he gave himself over to that acceptance, diving into its embracing depth, where his mind was released from its bonds and his racing heart found peace.

  After a while, as they lay spent and panting, covered in sweat and cum and humming quietly with post-coital bliss, Armin rolled into Van’s arms again and kissed him tenderly on that impossibly inviting spot at the turn of his moustache.

  “Shit,” he said, “I’m ravenous.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” mumbled Van, sleepily. “If you make me come once more tonight, I’ll sleep until Monday morning.”

  “No, I am, like, you know, hungry.”

  Van laughed sleepily, kissing Armin’s hair. “Well then, cut along to the kitchen and find something to eat.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. Go ahead.”

  Armin padded carefully around the dark house, feeling his way along the curvy sculpted walls. The building felt alive, like a tangle of sleeping beasts or the roots of a great tree.

  Or a nest of Aliens, he thought, and he almost screamed when he stumbled on something warm and muscular, which yelped and jumped up.

  “Oh hey, Jade,” he muttered, but the huge dog had already melted away into the darkness.

  In the kitchen he started a small light and began to open cupboards and drawers and peek into baskets and boxes.

  The dispiriting thing about Van’s kitchen was that there was nothing really like food in it. Just a lot of damn ingredients. He looked for a quick snack of some sort, but there was no such thing, not as much as a packet of crackers or crisps or an instant noodle snack. He couldn’t even find some butter to spread. Is that how that old brat keeps in such good shape? he wondered.

  There was a ham on a thick wooden board, covered with a cloth, but Armin wasn’t going to touch that. Aside from being a vegetarian, he had not the faintest idea how to carve a ham. A whole ham, for Chrissake. That man is such a dude.

  He was resigned to just having a slice of dry bread when he heard the soft pad of Van’s feet on the clay floor.

  “Found anything to your taste?” Van asked, entering the kitchen, half naked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “I’ll just have a bit of bread. I’m fine,” he said. “You didn’t need to get up on account of me.” He kissed Van on the lips lightly—he looked so delicious, sleepy and ruffled, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans over bare feet.

  “Nonsense,” said Van, yawning. “Tall young buck like you, working hard day and night, you need some serious protein. Scrambled eggs?”

  “Sounds great,” said Ar
min, then he paused. “Do I need to go fetching eggs from under a duck’s butt in the middle of the night?”

  Van grinned. “Nah, you are in luck.” He pulled some eggs from a basket, opened a small cupboard in the wall that Armin had not noticed—the carved door looked every bit like something hung there for décor—got out cheese and butter, and busied himself starting a small fire in the clay stove.

  Armin sat by, feeling a little useless but also intensely happy to watch his lover as he cooked him a meal from scratch, on a wood-fire, in the fucking middle of the night.

  “I feel so pampered and spoiled,” he said dreamily. He immediately felt stupid but was relieved by the tender smile that flickered on Van’s face.

  Van’s scrambled eggs were nothing like the hasty rubbery mess Armin was used to.

  Van melted butter in a large skillet, beat the eggs thoroughly in a bowl, added the liquefied butter, put everything back into the pan, added small pieces of cheese, and returned the pan to the stove, where the small quick fire of small sticks was already dying. It seemed to take forever, but Armin was quite happy to sit there watching Van’s ass and back as he cooked.

  “Cut some bread, will you, sweet pea?” Van said ironically at a certain point, and Armin roused himself from his reverie and sliced two thick slabs of bread off a loaf.

  Van quickly arranged them in a dish and spooned the eggs over them, oozing, silky, molten, fragrant, creamy. Armin ate voraciously, humming like a man about to have an orgasm. It was one of the simplest cooked meals he had ever eaten, and one of the best.

  “God,” he said, as he scraped the last bit of buttery eggs from the dish with some more bread. “That was delicious. Goodness, man, you could start a restaurant any day. How come you are not cooking for the workshop?”

  “Gee, Armin,” said Van, yawning hugely. “I am good, but I am not that good. I can’t build, teach, cook for a dozen people, and entertain special guests until all hours, all at once.”