by Kim Fielding
He sighed and cast one final look through the twilight in the direction of the Downs. And saw the outline of a human figure approaching.
****
Chapter Eleven
Enitan had nowhere to hide, and he was far too sore and weary to run. But he could still fight. Gods, he could always fight. So he stood his ground, his legs planted firmly and his hands balled into fists. If this was one of the men who’d brutalized him before throwing him over the edge, Enitan would not be so helpless this time.
But the half-moon had risen, casting enough light for Enitan to discern the shape of the approaching man. Tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, long-legged. He recognized the silhouette long before he could make out the face.
“Rig,” Enitan said when the man was close enough. It was hard to get that single syllable past his tight throat.
Rig stopped just out of reach. He was breathing heavily, and Enitan could smell him: dust, woodsmoke, sweat. But Rig didn’t say anything. He simply stood, as solid as the Reach itself.
“Why?” Enitan finally managed to ask.
“Did you think I was just going to let you go? What if you fell?”
“What if you fell?”
Rig shrugged— a small movement of a dark shape against the dark sky.
His nonchalance made Enitan want to burst into tears again. Instead, he rushed forward and slammed his hands hard into Rig’s chest, making Rig stagger back. “I don’t want you!” Enitan yelled. “Can’t you see that? Go away!”
Rig surged forward, and for a split second Enitan thought they were going to fight again. But before he could prepare to give and take blows, Rig wrapped his arms around Enitan and held him tight. It was an embrace, not a wrestling hold, a fact emphasized by the soft brush of lips against Enitan’s temple. “No,” Rig said. Quietly but firmly.
Enitan didn’t even have the strength to struggle. He returned the hug, rested his forehead against Rig’s shoulder, and sighed. “I’ve been called stubborn, but apparently I’m an amateur.”
“I’d say you’re pretty good at it, Eni.”
“You have to go now. Nothing good waits for you here. I’ll end up killing you and I can’t—”
Rig pushed Enitan’s shoulders away and looked him carefully in the eyes. The moon gave just enough light for Enitan to see the seriousness of Rig’s expression. “You did not kill your father,” Rig said. “And as for me… Well, you do what you have to do. The decisions I make are my own, and the consequences are nobody’s fault but mine.”
“Do you think you can throw yourself over me when I face Minna? Sacrifice yourself so I don’t get burned? There’s no fog here, Rig.”
Wincing slightly as if the allusion hurt him, Rig maintained his grip on Enitan’s shoulders. “I don’t want to die. But what waits for me in the Downs? Memories. A house I’ll never finish. A pity fuck from Dany every few weeks. I’d…” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. “I’d rather take my chances here with you. Maybe have a few more good days. I’m not leaving you.”
They could have this argument all night, but Enitan didn’t think his legs would hold him upright much longer, and Rig had to be equally exhausted. “I need to sleep,” Enitan said.
Not surprisingly, Rig had come much better prepared than Enitan. He wore a makeshift pack, and although he didn’t remove all the contents, he produced water and more food— smoked fish and some kind of salty nuts— as well as a rolled sleeping mat and a blanket. He and Enitan ate a little and drank quite a bit. Then Rig spread the mat on the ground. It was quite narrow for two big men, but he didn’t complain and Enitan didn’t mind. Dirty, sore, and weary, they lay on their sides with Rig spooning Enitan from behind and the blanket pulled over them both. They fell asleep at once.
****
Every bit of Enitan’s body hurt when he woke up. He stood and tried to stretch some of the tightness from his muscles, but it didn’t help much. And when he sat opposite Rig to eat some breakfast, Rig hissed and grabbed his hands. “You’re injured.”
It was true— beneath the caked-in dirt, Enitan’s fingernails were blackened and bloody. But he only raised an eyebrow at Rig, whose hands were in equally poor shape. Undeterred, Rig began to sing one of his lullabies.
“Don’t!” Enitan tried to pull his hands away, but Rig grinned smugly and held him fast. And although Enitan didn’t want to be fussed over, well, it felt really nice. Within minutes the song was over and his hands— still filthy— were healed.
“But who will heal yours?” he asked when Rig finally let him go.
“Time.”
Enitan huffed at him. “But you said it tires you, and—”
“Bringing a man from the brink of death tires me. This was a very small matter. And there’s no point in both of us hurting.”
Scowling, Enitan conceded the point. But he made Rig sit while he folded the mat and blanket and tucked them in the pack, and he made sure Rig got the larger share of breakfast as well.
Then they began to walk toward the city.
If it weren’t for the faint tracks through the grass, Enitan would have lost his way. The Reach stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction, and each league they walked was as featureless as the one before. Although Enitan and Rig kept putting one foot in front of the other, it felt as if they were staying in one place.
An hour or two into their journey, Rig took Enitan’s hand. He held it loosely, not saying a word. Enitan pulled away. But a moment later Rig grabbed him again. Only then did it occur to Enitan that the Reach might be frightening to a man used to the Downs— aside from the wagon tracks, no landmarks; no birds or insects or small, scurrying animals; nothing taller than their ankles; no shelter in sight.
“There’s no fog here,” Enitan said.
“I know.”
“And nothing here can sting us or bite us or… or make us giddy and then send us to sleep.”
“I know.” But Rig continued to clutch Enitan’s hand, and this time Enitan let him.
Enitan had fucked many men and a few women, but he couldn’t remember ever walking hand in hand with anyone. He and his playmates didn’t go for romantic strolls. They drank, they screwed. Maybe they spent a little time at Club Bennu or another place, dancing and gossiping. And when he was a child, there had been nobody to hold his hand either. His nannies herded him impatiently, and Minna tugged him around by his arm.
Rig’s hand was bigger than his, broad-fingered, calloused from his many chores. Enitan couldn’t forget even for a moment how good those hands had been to him.
They stopped occasionally to rest, to eat and drink a little. Never for long. They didn’t talk much, but they held hands almost the entire time they walked.
When the sun set and darkness descended, they set up their simple camp not far from the trail. Enitan was already tired of dried meat, smoked fish, and nuts, but he knew he should be thankful he wasn’t going hungry. And thanks to Rig, they had plenty of water.
But with his feet rested, his thirst slaked, and his belly full, he noticed a new discomfort. His clothes were filthy and stiff with dried sweat, and the rough cloth chafed. “I don’t suppose you brought the lake in that bag of yours,” he said glumly to Rig.
“No. I guess I could have stuffed in a few trancebeetles if I’d known you’d miss it so much.”
Oddly enough, Enitan did miss it, and not just because he yearned to be clean. He missed the clean, sharp scent of the trees and the soft carpet of fallen leaves. He missed the colorful birds and insects, even though many of them were dangerous. He missed Rig’s tiny cabin and grand unfinished house. He missed Rig’s demanding bird. Merciful gods, he missed the Downs.
Scowling at his unwanted epiphany, Enitan impatiently shed his shirt and trousers, then tossed them aside. His skin was dirty too, but there was nothing he could do about that.
Rig, who was sitting on the ground, grinned up at him. “Oh?”
“It’s not an invitation. I stink.”
Rig’s healing touches were wonderful, but not even they felt as good as his gloriously naked body against Enitan’s. Enitan drank in the contact, feasted on Rig’s mouth, and reciprocated with eagerly roving hands.
When Enitan lived in the city, he’d never wanted anything for long. When he was hungry, he ate. When he was restless, he sparred. When he was horny, he fucked. All right, perhaps he wasn’t completely happy, but he’d never been miserable. He’d thought himself satisfied.
Never in all those years had he experienced the ravenous need that overcame him now. He felt as though he’d been holding his breath his entire life, and only now— only with Rig’s touch— could he finally fill his lungs with air. And he didn’t want to be cured, didn’t want the exquisite, magical act of love he and Rig had shared before. He wanted Rig not as a healer but as a flesh and blood man. The only man he would ever love.
Despite everything, Enitan pulled slightly away from him. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he needed an answer. “Why me?” he asked.
Rig looked nearly as wild as Enitan felt. He swallowed a few times before answering. “You can’t believe I’d want you?”
“I know I’m pretty. But so is Dany, and I’m sure—”
Rig growled like an angry beast. “You said you could desire me despite the scars. Can’t you believe I’d desire you despite your beauty?”
It was a strange sort of argument, but Enitan understood. Still, he shook his head. “You are gentle and kind and good and strong. I’m none of those things— except strong, I suppose. But you’ve already told me anyone who survives the Downs for long can boast that quality. What do I have to offer someone like you?”
For a long time, Rig looked away, staring at the nothingness of the Reach at night. Then he looked up at the glittering sky. “We don’t see the stars often in the Downs,” he said quietly. “When they do shine, it’s like a beautiful gift. Rare and unexpected. Everyone wanders outside to gape, and some people get so enamored they bump into houses and trees. We call them star-blind.” He took a step closer and put his hand on Enitan’s bare shoulder. “That’s me. You make me star-blind.”
Gods. Enitan’s breath caught. Before he could manage to craft a response, Rig continued; and even if Enitan had been blind again, he would have heard the smile in Rig’s voice. “You’re smart and you’re funny. I can work beside you all day and be sad when it’s time to stop. You never complain, not even when you’re in terrible pain. You’re never greedy. You save your crumbs for the birds. And if you’d let go of your need for vengeance, a light would shine through you that would put all the stars to shame.”
Enitan opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. He couldn’t find a single word to say in response. So he answered the only way he could— with a kiss. He clutched Rig to him, pressing as much of their bodies together as possible, and tasted him. Sweet— despite the fish— sweet and warm and moist and, gods, nothing else would ever taste so good.
Even sweeter, though, was the knowledge that Rig was his, even if only for a few more days. Enitan would die knowing that he’d truly loved someone and that someone had thought him special.
Proving his possession, Enitan worked his mouth down Rig’s neck, across the scars and muscles of his chest, onto his peaked nipples. That was when they both fell to the ground, but softly. And falling was good; Enitan had recently learned that much. The change in position didn’t slow him. He licked the sweat and dust from Rig’s skin, delighting at the slight softness of the belly, tonguing delicately into the little divot of Rig’s navel.
Rig didn’t take this treatment passively. He moaned and squirmed. He petted whatever parts of Enitan he could reach, the rough skin of his finger pads scratching deliciously. And when Enitan moved down a bit more to taste the salty musk of his balls, Rig splayed his legs wantonly and canted his hips.
But Enitan didn’t stop there. He laved the points of Rig’s hips and the seams where his legs met torso. His tongue was tickled by the hairs on Rig’s powerful thighs and long shins. He even nibbled just a bit at the tender skin behind Rig’s knees.
Finally, when neither of them could stand the torture a moment longer, Enitan worked his way back up and slipped Rig’s cock into his mouth. Yes. Heavy and slick on his tongue, so swollen with blood that Enitan felt the beat of Rig’s pulse. Enitan suckled near the tip so he could savor Rig’s fluids, and then allowed the length to slip deeper into him until he had to swallow around the thickness. He wasn’t exactly comfortable; he had to blink away a few tears. But he was so enraptured with the little thrusts of Rig’s hips and the steady, ragged cries from his throat, that Enitan completely ignored the throbbing of his own cock. He lost himself in Rig’s pleasure.
He was interrupted by a hard, desperate tug of his hair. “Eni… Gods, Eni. I want to taste you too. Please.”
A request he couldn’t refuse.
Enitan had to release Rig from his mouth to reposition himself, and that was a shame. But he scrambled quickly into place, sprawled on top of Rig with his mouth at Rig’s groin and Rig’s at his. With a satisfied little grunt, Rig immediately grasped Enitan’s dick and began to lick it, while the blunt forefinger of his other hand caressed the tender skin behind Enitan’s balls. It felt so wonderful that Enitan nearly forgot what he’d been doing— until Rig made a needy little sound that reminded him.
By unspoken agreement, they drew things out as long as possible, each of them pausing for a moment when the other man got too close to the edge. But then Enitan recalled his recent lesson— falling over the edge was a good thing— and increased the vigor of his actions. He once again swallowed Rig to the root and then bobbed his head as he fondled Rig’s tight balls.
Probably less accustomed to another man in his mouth, Rig couldn’t take him all the way in. But he alternately tongued at Enitan’s slit and sucked on the entire crown, and when he inserted a spit-dampened finger into Enitan’s sphincter, it was the beginning of the end. Enitan squeezed his eyes shut as his climax rushed through him. Rig came with him, filling Enitan’s mouth with his spend, sending them both into a loop of pure bliss.
Sated and huddled together under the blanket, they continued to pet and kiss each other until they finally slipped into sleep.
****
Chapter Twelve
Rig saw the city first. Perhaps he had sharper eyes. More likely, though, Enitan was staring at the ground instead of ahead. The closer they came to their destination, the heavier the ball of dread in his stomach. He did not remotely feel like a triumphant hero about to wreak vengeance on his enemy.
“It’s… big,” Rig said, staring at the mass of square white structures. They were holding hands again.
“Not as tall as your forest.”
“You could put my entire village in there and nobody would even notice.”
“Oh, they’d notice,” Enitan said with a forced laugh. Nobody in the city had ever seen a building made of wood. He had a strange thought: what would Minna think of the Downs? Would she be horrified by how uncivilized it was? Terrified of all the dangers it possessed? She wouldn’t see the beauty of it. The thick trees reaching skyward, smelling of life. The cool, clear water of the lake. The bright colors of the birds, insects, fish, and reptiles— even the deadly ones. The wild calls of the amorous night sprites. The melancholy, defiant magnificence of the house Rig was building with his own two hands. And gods, the spirit of the huge, scarred man who saved those who fell.
“We should clean up before we enter the city,” Enitan said, probably louder than was necessary.
Rig glanced down at himself. Like Enitan’s, his clothes were heavily soiled, his skin grimy, his hair disheveled, and his cheeks stubbled. And they both undoubtedly reeked of sex. “We look disreputabl
e,” Rig said, sounding amused.
“We do. And… I don’t have the mark on my forehead anymore, thanks to you, so people won’t know just from looking at me that I’ve been banished. But even clean, our clothing will stand out. And let’s face it— you’d be conspicuous no matter what you wore.”
“Yes,” Rig agreed, stroking the scars on his face.
“Even without them. You’re an impressive chunk of manhood.”
He was even more impressive when he gave his lopsided smile and his eyes lit up. “Am I?”
Enitan playfully squeezed Rig’s ass. “Very.” Then he sobered. “We’ll never make it to my— to Minna’s house in this shape. Someone will stop us.”
Rig’s smiled faded and his expression turned grim. “What will you do when you get there?”
Honestly, Enitan didn’t know the details. Ever since he’d faced Minna’s betrayal, he’d imagined all sorts of grand, theatrical scenarios. But over the past few weeks, those scenarios had faded. Now he had no idea what he’d do. “Revenge,” he muttered.
Although Rig had no problem expressing himself verbally, sometimes he could give an entire speech without saying a word. He did that now, and Enitan had to look away.
“I won’t hurt anyone,” Rig finally said. “I won’t leave you, and I’ll protect you as well as I can, but I won’t hurt anyone.”
“Good,” Enitan answered, meaning it most sincerely. It was bad enough he’d dragged Rig out of the Downs— he didn’t want to push him into destruction.
Enitan scratched his itchy hair. “We’ll detour to the north of the city, where we can wash in one of the rivers. The water runs clean there.” And a detour— a slight delay of the end— felt like a reprieve instead of an interference.
****
It took them most of the day to reach the closer river. Maybe they would have gotten there sooner if Rig hadn’t kept pausing to exclaim over the size of the city. The childlike wonder would have charmed Enitan if he hadn’t been nearly sick with dread. In any case, by the time they reached the sinuous waterway, the sky was tinged red and purple by the setting sun and they decided their bathing— and the end of their journey— could wait another day. They stripped off their clothes, though, and scrubbed them in the river, then spread them on the riverbank to dry.