4 comments/ 14798 views/ 7 favorites Blood and Salt Ch. 01 By: monkeyman137 Chapter I: Over A Barrel The fight was fast and desperate; in the momentary illumination a vicious leering face shone before Huw, and his hungry axe licked out, splitting it to the chin spraying gore and brains over the doughty Celt. In the numbing blackness that followed the flash, an unseen stroke swept Huw's helmet from his head and he struck back blindly, feeling his axe sink into flesh, his victim's howl cut short along with his life. A thunderous roar and unholy fire split the raging sky, revealing a ring of savage faces, the hedge of gleaming steel that hemmed him in. Across the deck scattered pockets of remaining resistance were overcome with savage cruelty, men gutted and slashed by the barbaric pirate scum. Back against the mainmast Huw blocked and struck; then through the madness of the fray a great voice thundered, and in a flashing instant the Celt caught a glimpse of a giant form--a strangely familiar face. Then the world crashed into fire-shot blackness. Awareness slowly flowed back into Huw. He was first aware of a dull throbbing in his head. For a split moment thought he was once again paying the price for a night of heavy carousing, but as he sought to raise his hands to his head he realized he was bound hand and foot. This was also not an altogether new experience. Clearing sight showed him that he was bound with his belly over a great wooden barrel, his ankles and wrists fixed to the deck by stout hemp ropes. This was not the merchantman on which he had been travelling - a more ragged vessel, unfamiliar, with black sails. Why the raiders had spared him, he could not guess; if they knew ought of their captive, they knew him to be an outlaw, one for whom no ransom would be paid. Further, if they knew who he was, they also knew that he was a vengeful man who would balk at nothing to satisfy a grudge against any captor. The wind had fallen, but the sea was heavy. The ship groaned and creaked in the swell, contributing to Huw's nausea. His whole body ached, but he controlled his stomach through force of will - spewing now would show weakness in front of his captors, which was intolerable. A fat, pale moon glared down through broken clouds, lighted the tossing billows. Here and there safety lanterns lit the gloom, their flames small and pitiful against the dark night. He was cold, he realised suddenly, and shifted his weight slightly. He was near naked, his mail shirt and the padding beneath gone. He still had his boots, but nothing else save a breechclout to cover his loins. His teeth began to chatter, but again his stilled them. He wondered how long he had been bound like this. The merchant ship on which Huw had been working his passage had been set upon with little warning. For three days and nights the captain had fled southwards, trying to outrun the pirate vessel that hounded it. Most such vessels would have given up after a day or two at most, but this one kept coming, refusing to fall behind. As time and fatigue took their toll on the crew, so the raiders ship crept closer and closer. On the evening of the fourth day, pushing on into uncharted wastes, the merchantman had scraped its bottom across an unmarked reef, and the chase was over. The raiders were bestial savages, the merciless trash of dockside brothels and prison breaks. The cruelty that warmed their blood was not human. In the terror and roar of a gathering storm they leaped howling to the onslaught, seeming not to care that they risked their own ship in pursuing the merchantman across the reefs. It had been a slaughter rather than a fight - Huw had been the only fighting man aboard the doomed ship, and even his limbs were heavy with fatigue - and now he remembered the strange familiarity of the face he had glimpsed just before he was struck down. Who--? "Ho there, my bold friend, you are awake!" Huw stared at the man who stood before him, feet braced to the lifting of the deck. He was of huge stature, a good half head taller than the dark-haired Celt who stood a little less than six feet. His legs were like columns, his arms like oak and iron. His beard was of crisp gold, matching the massive armlets he wore, and he bore a lantern which he hung carefully on a hook near the Celt, casting a wan amber light over them both. A shirt of scale-mail added to his war-like appearance as the horned helmet seemed to increase his height. But there was no wrath in the calm gray eyes which gazed tranquilly into the smouldering green eyes of the Celt. "Aelfric, the Saxon!" "Aye--it's been a long day since you gave me this," the giant indicated a thin white scar on his temple. "We seem fated to meet on nights of fury. Tonight it was I who struck you down, my friend." Huw cursed. "Nay, revile me not," said Aelfric with a pained expression. "I struck with my hand, but knowing you have a cursed hard skull, I struck with both fists. You have been senseless for hours. Lodbrog and his dogs might have slain you with the others and claimed the bounty for your corpse as easily as for your life. They know you of old, you see - but I would rather you survived. I have endured much to pay my debt to you." "Where are we?" "Ask me not. The storm that came up as we caught your ship has blown us far out of our course. This sip lamed. We may be riding the very rim of the world for all that I know. But where we are should not be your most pressing worry, friend." The big Saxon looked furtively about, and then raised his voice a little, as if speaking for an audience. He withdrew a joint of greasy, dry meat from his belt, and shifted his stance a little. Behind him, Huw could make out a weasel-faced, swarthy man leaning on the stern railing overlooking the main deck. He watched carefully as Aelfric attended to Huw, and a vicious crossbow rested on the rail next to him. "A man must eat -here -set your teeth into this joint of meat." Huw bent his head to the great joint and tore at it ravenously. The Saxon watched him. A strange man, reflected Huw, this renegade Saxon who hunted with the wolf-pack of the North - a savage warrior in battle, but with fibres of kindliness in his makeup which set him apart from the men with whom he consorted. They had parted as friends, and battle-brothers, and the Celt felt a pang of disappointment that they had met again as enemies. "This meat is dry," said Huw, swallowing a final mouthful. He glared at Aelfric, who stepped away for a moment and called up to the man at the stern to throw him a skin of wine. The watcher sneered, but complied. Aelfric returned. He squatted down in front of Huw's face, and dropped his voice. "Friend Welshman, I dare not release your hands just yet. As you can see, we are watched, yet all is not as it seems, and I swear to you that I am still the friend from whom you parted three years since." His gray eyes were full of compassion and ... perhaps ... just a little fear. He held up the wineskin, and directed a thin jet of watery red wine into Huw's open mouth. Huw swilled wine round his mouth, and spat. Then he swallowed several mouthfuls before indicating he was sated. "Drink deep friend, it may be some time before you have anything wholesome to eat or drink. It may be also that you will wish to be drunk for what is to come." "Tell me." Huw grunted his voice also low. "They are below now, gambling for who will take second turn after Lodbrog has saved himself upon you. They are animals." The big Saxon turned his head and spat onto the deck, his face creased with disgust. He nodded his head towards the wheel, where a man'sslight shape stood partly hidden in the darkness - a young man, keeping the ship steady. Huw judged him to have seen little more than twenty summers, but he had the broad shoulders and stout build of a youth used to working for a living. "I signed to this crew when I heard they had taken the bounty, seeking to discharge my debt by aiding you. I had an idea of what kind of creatures they might be. That lad and his cousins had no such forewarning, signing while drunk and learning too late what hell spawn they had fallen in among. It is Lodbrog's practice to take on half a dozen likely lads before setting to sea for any length of time, to serve as fodder for his crew's lusts." Huw shared the Saxon's disgust. Aelfric continued, his voice low, not meeting Huw's eyes. "The first night out, once the city was below the horizon, they diced for the lads. One of them put up a great struggle and was beaten senseless as a warning to the others. Some of them struggled but that only served to inflame them further. They tried for me also, but I cleft the head from the first to try and lay a hand on me and convinced them I was of their same sort. I took the lad there, took him hard the first time, and kept him with me - staking my claim and proving my foul 'mettle' to their satisfaction. Since then we have looked out for each other. They know better than to touch the lad while I am nearby, and he watches for me when I must sleep." He did not meet Huw's eyes, and looked away, his voice falling almost inaudible over the sound of the waves. "But even I could not save him from Lodbrog's predations. Like some petty lord the self-styled 'captain' insists that his be the first cock to pierce each captive's arse." Huw strained against his bonds. "Cut me loose, Aelfric, and we'll teach these curs what real men are!" Aelfric shook his head. "I dare not, Huw. They will kill us both and then the lad - I have sworn to protect him until we reach shore safely. I will not be forsworn for you, old friend, nor break one vow to uphold another. They keep a close watch on me - see the vermin on the stern deck? I think Lodbrog senses my heart is not in this venture." The Saxon leant slightly to one side. "Over my shoulder there ... the watchman at the stern. If he cries out, we'll have the whole ship in arms against us and we will surely lose, especially with you naked and unarmed. They take it in shifts, waiting for me to let down my guard. They are slovely pigs, and I would not waste a cup of piss on one were he dying of thirst. Yet fear of Lodbrog does the job of giving them a hint of discipline in their vigilance." . The Celt twisted his head around and about casting for any advantage - and spied a dark shape near the horizon. "Beach the ship then," he whispered quickly and earnestly, "and let us take out chances with the waves. You say these uncharted waters are rich with reefs and rocks? I'd rather risk drowning than serve as a plaything to animals until they hand me to my enemies! I want to fight while I still have strength to make an accounting of myself, not die bent and broken for the amusement of some petty prince or dog-fuck lordling! Do this and I will give you my oath that I will join my word to yours and see the lad at least to safety on pain of my life." Aelfric stared into the smaller man's eyes for a moment, measuring his commitment. Then he nodded abruptly. "You are a madman, Celt. You'll kill us both - all three of us - but damned if I will stand by and watch you used the way Lodbrog uses his prisoners. Be ready." The broad Saxon leant forward then, carefully drawing a knife, and making sure he was unobserved partially sawed through the stout fibres holding Huw's wrists. He reversed the short blade then, sheathing it, and sliding blade and sheath under Huw's body where it was pressed close against the barrel, concealing it. Then he leant back, a feigned expression of disgust on his face, and raised his voice again. "Filthy dog, you'll eat those words when Lodbrog gets here! I look forward to my own turn to mount you, but I doubt there'll be much fight in you by then!" He struck Huw then, a light blow but to an onlooker it would appear he had placed a much more savage strike. As he turned away, he whispered one last time. "You'll know my signal when you see it, and then let Lodbrog and his dogs beware." Aelfric returned to the wheel, making a show of cuffing the lad who held it steady. The weasel-faced watcher kept an eye on Huw, and behind him he could see a quiet exchange taking place between the Saxon and his lad. At first the smaller man shook his head then finally he nodded slowly. The watcher at the rail turned and queried what was going on, and Aelfric replied loudly with the details of some vileness he planned to visit on the youth once his shift at the wheel was over, which set the rat-faced sailor guffawing and suggesting additional horrors. The lad, his face pale, said nothing. Huw was left then to his own thoughts, considering what was to come and how best to prepare for it. He felt only disgust for men who could not get their pleasure save by forcing it, corrupting the Goddess' great gift to Her children into a thing of violence and blood. After a time, Huw the sailor felt the vessel adjust its course beneath his feet. Aelfric was a master steersman, and Huw doubted anyone else aboard realised he had subtly adjusted their course. At almost the same moment, there was a sound of many men moving at once and raucous laughter, clomping feet, and a banging door. Huw's captors had come from their merry game of bartering him off like a whore to claim their prize. They surrounded him then, a jeering mob of perhaps two dozen men, swigging from clay bottles and wine skins, clapping each other on the back and celebrating in anticipation of the entertainment they were about to receive. 'Captain' Lodbrog was the worst of them, a squat brute of a man, nearly as wide as he was tall, with a hanging paunch and vicious stubbled jowls. Yet to call him fat would have been to underestimate him - he was no pampered lord, but a vicious fighting man whose bulk gave him an advantage over slighter foes. One eyed, with lank and filthy blond hair tied back from a scarred face, he swaggered like a bravo despite his bulk. He sported a great bruise on the side of his head, no doubt received during the recent battle. He stank of old sweat, cheap grog and stale seed, and his breath gusted through blackened teeth with the aroma of rotten meat. He swayed slightly, clearly already drunk, as he taunted Huw. "Well! Look how the mighty Huw is humbled lads! Bound up like the cheapest doxy, aching for the touch of a real man!" Drunken laughter went up from the men surrounding the Celt. They leered and jeered, cheered their captain on with vile suggestions. Lodbrog grabbed Huw's face and lifted it up to stare at him. He hawked a great gobbet of snot into the captive's face, and laughed again. Behind Lodbrog's head, he could see the stern watch gazing with greedy eyes at what was happening on the main deck. "We'll make such sport of you, Celt!" He roared. Huw could smell the arousal on the man. In other circumstances he might have strained at his bonds, but he did not dare reveal how weak they were before the appointed moment. Lodbrog seemed disappointed at the lack of reaction. "Grog!" he yelled. One of his mates passed him an earthenware jug, and he gulped down several mouthfuls, spilling more down his chin onto his open shirt, his chest and quivering belly both covered in a thick black rug. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and glared down at his captive. "Does the mighty Huw want some grog to wet his whistle before we make a start? I'd hate for you to be thirsty, for there'll be no more grog for you once we begin!" Lodbrog grinned evilly through broken teeth. The men whooped and hollered and laughed. "All I want from you, you diseased whore's cunt, is your throat under my blade and your blood on my fists and to watch you mewl out your life before me." Huw spoke with quiet intensity, and the big pirate blanched a little before alcohol and the bravado common to weak men with many cronies stiffened his resolve. "You'll take what I offer you, Celt, aye and beg me for more before I'm done!" shrieked Lodbrog. He grabbed Huw's hair again with one hand, lifting his face up while fumbling in his breeches for his manhood. The meaty sausage was already thickened, half swollen with beer and corrupt lust. The stink of it near him caused Huw to retch. Holding it firmly in one fist, the captain grunted a moment then let loose a stream of hot piss into Huw's face. "Here's your grog mate! Who's the whorish cunt now? Hey?" The other pirates went wild, hooting and howling at the man who had killed a fair six of their mates in the attack on the merchantman so humbled. Huw kept his mouth clenched shut, the hot stream stinging his eyes, drenching his face, the rankness of it filling his nostrils until he felt sure he would puke. He sensed rather than saw Lodbrog lean in closer to direct the stream, playing it across his face and hair ... and Huw lunged forward, snapping his teeth closed where he hoped the pirate's cockhead lay. All he got for his trouble was a gobfull of salt piss and his head slammed against the barrel hard enough that he nearly bit through his tongue. Lodbrog's fist smashed into his nose, and he tasted blood in his mouth and throat. For a moment he was sure he would pass out, but the moment passed. The food and drink Aelfric had given him rebelled in his stomach, his mouth flooding with bile which he swallowed back down again. The taste of the spew was at least preferable to the vileness of Lodbrog's urine. "Snapping dog!" shouted the pirate. "We'll see how well you snap when my men have torn your teeth out to make a fuckhole of your face!" The captain seemed to consider for a moment, leaning in as if to confide in his captive. "We'll be paid a princely sum as long as you are alive to face the Prince's torturers, but the bounty says nothing about what state your body must be in. We'll leave you your manhood for the prince to take, but nothing else - nothing else will be denied to us. Do you understand what the next three weeks will be for you? I see you are still arrogant enough to think we will not break you, but before we see land you will beg me to spend my seed in you, and sob like a woman when I refuse." Lodbrog leant back then, turning to his crew, his stiffened piss-proud prick jutting from his breeks. "He's a snapping dog, this one is lads ... but a dog only has fangs in his mouth. I can think of a berth a lot more welcoming, where I'll slide to dock as smooth as silk. What say you lads? Shall I make sail for the port of Huw the mighty and take a little shore leave?" The baying crowd egged their captain on as he moved out of Huw's line of sight. The Celt looked to the stern again, and saw Aelfric turning the wheel again, slowly, and carefully. The weasel-faced watchman paid no attention to anything but the drama unfolding below, his stubby cock now in his hand as he craned over the railings for a better look. Huw saw Alefrik's lad join him at the rail, and engage the pirate in quiet conversation. A moment later Lodbrog's rough hands were on his breechclout, flipping it up across his lower back. "Hold his legs, mates!" cried the pirate king, pausing to run his calloused hands greedily over Huw's legs and arse, nipping and teasing at the downy hair. The ropes on his ankles went taut, pulling them apart and pushing more of his weight onto the barrel, rough against his chest and belly. Huw gritted his teeth, refusing to crane to see what was happening behind him, to give Lodbrog that satisfaction. He could hear the captain working mucus and saliva in his mouth, heard the sound of spitting, and knew the beast was slowly lubricating his cock with his own snot and spittle. Huw let out a sharp breath through his teeth when a rough digit forced its way into his passage, rudely pressing past his opening and through his tight ring. He felt it twisting around inside him, getting a feel for his girth and trying to open him up. He kept his muscles clenched. Blood and Salt Ch. 01 "Oh this is tight, lads, even I won't be able to ruin it in just one fuck!" More drunken laughter greeted his words, and some shouted suggestions for ways he might loosen Huw's passage. Huw had eyes only for the stern. The lad from the wheel, was pressing in close against the watchman. The thuggish sailor glanced at the younger man and then took his hand and guided it down to his open breeches. The lad tentatively took a firm grip of the pirate's penis, beginning to work his hand up and down its stubby length. Behind the Celt, the pirate was trying to force another finger into his arse. "What is it, mighty Huw? Scared of a few fingers! Do I need to open you up with a belaying pin before I have my fun? You are as uptight as a virgin on her wedding night, relax damn your black eyes, or must I cut a hole in you to welcome my vessel?" Huw forced himself to relax, allowing Lodbrog to force a second finger inside him, ignoring the burning pain. He felt his ring being stretched and in spite of himself tried to pull away from the intrusion, but his legs were held firm and his body had nowhere to go against the rough wooden barrel. Only the knowledge that he was not alone – and the press of the sheathed dagger against his chest – allowed him to keep from crying out. "Tight ... but I wager I am not the first man to board this ship!" More laughter from the curs, pressing round even closer now. Huw saw that the pirate spy at the stern was barey paying attention any more, lost in ecstacy as Aelfric's young ally worked his prick, fast and hard. As Lodbrog worked his fingers inside Huw, the lad on the stern brought the pirate spy to the point of no return. Huw saw that Aelfric had lashed the wheel and left his post. As the watchman's seed spurted over the lads hand, the big Saxon struck. A meaty paw covered the weasel-faced pirate's mouth, still lost in the throes of orgasm, and a red blossom spreading under his shirt from his chest. The body was dragged away from the railing, out of sight, and the lad took his place, turning a burning gaze on drama playing out below. Huw caught his eye and he nodded once, twice, quickly. Without ceremony Lodbrog's fingers were withdrawn, and Huw felt a squirmy, sticky wet pressure at his backside. The pirate captains cock, slickened with his own juices, quested back and forth over the Celt's fuzzy cheeks like a blind worm, and Huw felt the fat calloused hands on his lower back pressing him down against the barrel as the pirate finally began his rape. "Bring me in, pilot!" shouted the captain, drunk on power. Huw felt rough hands at his cheeks then, helping to guide Lodbrog's cock into his crack. As the wet head thrust through his defences, he let out an involuntary yelp of pain and angry humiliation that sparked fresh abuse and laugher from his captors. The thronging pirate crew was fixated now, some of them with each other's stiff pricks in their hands, others fired to begin their own sweaty congress, rutting like dogs against crates. One of them was grunting and straining against a younger man with empty black eyes, pinned against the mast - clearly one of their most recent recruits. At that point, the whole vessel shifted. "What the ..." Lodbrog kept his balance - just - by grabbing against Huw to steady himself, his prick buried deep in the Welshman's backside. Huw clenched his arse muscles - hard - and strained his hands against the partly cut ropes. A sudden shout went up from the circling pirates, two of them falling in sprays of red blood, a third shrieking and clawing at his face where a crossbow bolt blossomed from his eye. Lodbrog, drunk and dazed with lust, struggled to understand what was happening. With an audible snap, Huw pulled his hands free and grabbed the dagger against his chest, unsheathing and striking behind him, a savage slashing blow with Aelfric's knife. He felt resistance, and a cry, and Lodbrog fell across him as a dead weight, still buried up to the hilt, slickening Huw's back with hot blood. The Welshman wriggled and strained, causing the filthy pirate to drop away. As he slipped out of Huw, the Welshman roared in exaltation, leaning away from the barrel to free his ankles from their ropes, slashing at the same time at the faces of the two pirates holding them. He felt a moment of disgust to see that his own weapon had stiffened slightly during his abuse, pressing against the front of his breechclout. Then with a wild roar he was free, and all thoughts of disgust went from him. Aelfric was in amongst the distracted pirates who were at last starting to realise the danger in their midst. His companion leant over the railing, loading and firing the crossbow with more enthusiasm than skill, but here and there quarrels found their mark amongst the confused pirates. The young recruit being buggered against the mast seemed to realise what was going on, and as his violator turned to engage Aelfric drove a boathook into his engorged groin, receiving a sword to the gut a moment later in repayment. He and his rapist fell together, pinned to the mast. The deck was already slick with blood as Huw stooped to grab a jagged and rusted sword from Lodbrog. As he raised it two-handed above his head, the ship leaped like a spurred horse, straining in every timber. As by magic the clouds, lightening for dawn, rolled away on each side, showing a wild waste of tossing gray waters, and a long line of breakers dead ahead. The ship was amidst the reefs now - fatally so. Far from charting a course to avoid the deadly submarine teeth, Aelfric had driven the ship straight through them. Beyond the frothing madness of the reefs loomed land, apparently an island. The roaring increased to deafening proportions, as the ship raced headlong to her doom. Huw fought his way through the mob, now starting to rally as they grasped the enormity of what had happened. "Where is my axe?" shouted Huw, parrying and replying with a disembowelling cut against his attacker who staggered back, guts spilling out of him. "In the weapon rack there but - Thor's sweaty bollocks man!" marvelled the big Saxon, "Don't burden yourself now - the ship - look out!" Aelfric thrust forward, skewering a bloody pirate who had flanked him, running him through. The weight of the dead man dragged the sword from the Saxon's hand, and he struggled with it for a moment as two more of the scum sought to overwhelm him. A moment later they were dead - taken from behind as they sought to slaughter the disarmed Saxon. Huw had snatched up his axe from the rack and confidence flowed like wine through his veins at the familiar feel of the slim, graceful shaft. His axe was as much a part of him as his right hand; if he must die he wished to die with it in his grip. Armed again, he had cut a bloody swathe to his friend and ally, just in time to save his life. As they backed up the stairs, Aelfric marvelled again. "Good gods man, you look as if you want to take the fray to wife!" He laughed, his eyes wild, his face and armour spattered with blood. Huw glanced down. His manhood was fully engorged, slapping free as he fought. Battle aroused him, but normally he wore armour and clothes when he fought, restraining and concealing his enthusiasm. Yet all armour had been stripped from him when he had been captured. "No wonder they're scared of you, Welshman!" They were forced to give ground - the pirates were desperate to get to the wheel, to cut it loose and stop the ship's fatal flight, but Aelfric, Huw and the young man with the crossbow were keeping them at bay - for the moment. Step by step they were pressed back towards the rear of the ship. The young man with the crossbow joined them. Aelfric caught him in a rough embrace for a moment, and then was serious once more. The pirate crew gathered at the rails to make a final charge. The three of them readied themselves for a final stand, the younger man claiming Huw's abandoned short sword - his quarrels were all expended, most of them scattered and broken on the main deck below but enough of them buried in the flesh of the pirates to thin their numbers and make them a little cautious about rushing over the open stern castle. In a moment they would realise there were no more feathered shafts, and would attack. "Over the railing!" shouted Huw. "If we have to swim, my armour will kill me as surely as one of these dogs!" Aelfric gritted through clenched teeth, and at that moment the ship struck with a crash that snapped her masts and shivered her prow like glass. Men tumbled like tenpins from her slanted deck. A moment she poised, shuddering like a live thing, then slid from the hidden reef and went down in a blinding smother of spray. Huw had left the deck in a long dive that carried him clear, sliding his axe into the belt of his battered breechclout. Salt water stung his cut and abused body. For a moment all was calm in the dark water, and he hung there for a second letting the water enfold him, let it wash away the blood and snot and the stink of Lodbrog. Then he rose in the turmoil, fought the waves for a mad moment, and caught a piece of wreckage that the breakers flung up. As he clambered across it, a shape bumped against him and went down again. Huw plunged his arm deep, caught a sword-belt and heaved the man up and on his makeshift raft. Aelfric, still burdened with the armour he had not had time to remove, barely conscious. He lay limp, limbs trailing, his face rinsed in blood, replenished by his forehead wound almost as soon as the ocean waves washed it away. Of Aelfric's companion - the man both were sworn to protect - there was no sign. The water was alive with screaming sailors, caught and dashed against the disintegrating vessel, pulled down as the pirate ship sank beneath the angry storm-tossed waves. Huw remembered that ride through the breaker as a chaotic nightmare. The tide tore them through, plunging their frail craft into the depths, then flinging them into the skies. There was naught to do but hold on with both hands and trust to luck. Hold on to the raft with one hand - and to the unconscious bulk of the Saxon with the other, while it seemed his fingers would crack with the strain. Again and again they were almost swamped; then by some miracle they were through, riding in water comparatively calm. A shape broke the water, and for a moment Huw thought it was the brave lad with the crossbow - then recognised it for one of the pirates. In desperation the brute tried to clamber onto the makeshift raft. Huw smashed his fist into the cur's face, again and again, kicking at him with exhausted legs until he fell back, dragged beneath the waves to a suffocating doom. As the Welshman, paddling with his hands, urged the rude raft ashore until he could feel the bottom. He waded to the beach, half-carrying the Saxon; then, iron though he was, Huw sank down, collapsed across Aelfric's cold armoured chest, and passed into oblivion, ***** First Interlude ***** When I was fifteen my Uncle Barry gave me a funny little book called of "Gods of Bal-Sagoth" by an American - a Texan - called Robert Howard. I wasn't much of a reader, but I liked my Uncle Barry. Maybe a little too much, if I'm honest. Uncle Barry was the youngest of my father's four brothers. He drove a massive articulated lorry all over the country, and was quite a romantic figure, a ginger bear of a man with a dirty laugh and an encyclopaedic memory for filthy jokes. I kind of hero worshipped him, and I did him the favour of reading his gift cover to cover. Some of it was okay ... but some of it fired my imagination. I'd already started to have a few inklings that I wasn't like other lads my age, a few unexpected stiffies in the shower. My mam, keen to encourage any interest I might show in things other than rugby and fighting, and failing exams - told me that if I liked that book I might get others from the library. I resisted - I wasn't a speccy nerd – if anything they were my natural prey. I still remember coming home to discover she had gone to the local library in my stead and picked up a few other books that might interest me. Moorcock's Elric I discarded almost immediately - who wanted a skinny cunt who whined all the time? Tolkien joined it on the discard pile, I had no interest in elves and wizards and hobbits and all that tedious shite. Plus it was far too long. But she also introduced me to Conan the Barbarian. In my imagination he was a big bear of a man, hairy like my uncle and my da, and in the lessons that failed to engage me I fantasized about hanging around with him, fighting and drinking and whoring (although I tended to gloss over the whoring a bit), or knocking around with Fafhrd and his little boyfriend with the sarcastic temper. A week after I read "Conan the Barbarian" I had the most memorable dreams of my adolescent years, fighting in my school assembly hall alongside Conan (who looked an awful lot like my Uncle Barry) and then falling entangled against the stage, kissing and wanking one another off. I woke up drenched in spunk, and gained the first few dim inklings of the kind of shagging I *really* wanted to do. I've met guys since who wanted to be fucked by Conan, but that was never what I wanted. From fifteen onwards I knew I wanted to fuck *with* Conan, or Fafhrd or whoever, I was singularly unmoved by the movie when I saw it a year or so later - that over muscled idiot was not the Conan I'd imagined during my marathon wank sessions. Growing up in the North in the 80s there wasn't a whole lot of porn that caught my attention - computers were something for geeks to play games on - and out of desperation I created some of my own, furtively, in exercise books stolen from school. I'm not sure if either of my parents ever found them, but I was back at home a few years ago helping clear out the attic when I came across a couple of boxes of my stuff from before I left home. I poked through them to see if there was anything of value, and found some of my exercise books (the first four or five pages covered in geometry or fake essays, the middle pages full of adolescent filth). They improved as they went on and I started to get some practical experience of what lads got up to with each other. I took them with me when I left. When I first found Literotica several years ago there was a series of stories about a barbarian that drove me wild. I wanked myself raw the first weekend, and kept coming back to see if there was any more. They made me laugh and nostalgic and horny all at once. So ... this is a bit of a rewrite of one of the later ones I wrote when my interests had become a little more ... sophisticated. It was clearly a rip-off of Gods of Bal-Sagoth, the first story I read, the one I'm embarrassed to say started my "sexual awakening." I've rewritten it, for nostalgia as much as anything else. I thought I'd share it here, and if there's any interest, I'll post up some more of it. It doesn't get *that* much better though. I like to think my Uncle Barry would get a kick out of this if he read it, and I can hear his filthy laugh and imagine him reading out phrases like "diseased whore's cunt" in a mocking voice, and then telling me it was a "good laugh young'un." Blood and Salt Ch. 02 Chapter II: Gods from the Abyss The first time Huw woke, it was to find a naked man leaning over him. Fine honed instincts drove him to strike out against this stranger, but his limbs had little strength in them. The stranger started away for a moment, then continued at his work, gently pushing Huw back down and continuing to tend to his wounds. Huw fumbled for his axe but could not find it, and fell back down into darkness. The second time the Celt woke, it was in the light of a dim fire of driftwood. He still ached, but his head was a little clearer. He opened his eyes to find himself in a cave, not far from the sound of breaking waves. It was still dark outside. He was not alone. In the firelight he could make out his battle brother, Aelfric, lying a few feet away. The Saxon was partly raised up on his elbows, and another man moved slowly and rhythmically atop him. Impaled on the Saxons rod, the youth from the pirate vessel, whom Huw had thought lost in the waves. Aelfric and the lad glistened with sweat in the ruddy glow from the burning driftwood. It was clear that Aelfric was still weak, and that his partner was doing all the work, his eyes closed as he ground his arse agains Aelfrics crotch, lifting himself slightly with his legs as he rode the Saxons thick prick. Huw felt his own member stir, but there was a lethargy on him and he could neither speak, nor move to touch himself. The sound of the waves and the quiet grunting of the two lovers merged together. As Aelfric fell back on the sand, he stroked the lads damp staff with his thumb, drawing a little of the honey there up to his partner's lips, then sliding the thumb into his own mouth and greedily sucking it. As he did his eyes fell on Huw, and he winked, reaching out toward him with one hand; but if he said anything the Welshman did not hear it, as he tumbled back into deep dreamless sleep. The third time Huw awoke, the Saxon and his lover were sound asleep, both naked, both snoring loudly. Aelfric shifted as Huw sat up and moved the arm the Saxon had thrown over him in his sleep. He did not wake. Huw studied him -- bruised and battered, but his wounds tended to and dressed, his tanned body covered in a pelt of thick blond fur. He had his other arm protectively around the young man, holding him against his body. The lad in turn had one hand clutched at the Saxon's tangled crotch, cupping his soft member as if clinging to an anchor. The strange young man's body showed signs of recent abuse -- bruises and cuts that were faded and looked much older than the fresher wounds he must have received in the recent fight, or in the mad scrabble for survival after the ship went down. Huw knew his blood brother, for all his violence when battle was joined, was not a man who mistreated his lovers, and furrowed his brow darkly as he remembered what Aelfric had said about Lodbrog the pirate taking first turn with all his captives. The final time Huw woke, he and Aelfric were alone in the cave. The big Saxon had rolled over and thrown an arm and a leg over the smaller Celt. Huw wriggled free, and Aelfric rolled back over onto his back, still snoring. The Welshman sat up, and immediately had to close his eyes, head swimming, feeling nauseous. Huw stood up, a little unsteadily, and staggered out of the cave. The broad white beach sloped gently from the water to a waving expanse of gigantic trees. There seemed no underbrush, but so close together were the huge boles the he could not see into the jungle. Here and there on the beach lay the stiff figures that had been washed ashore from the foundering pirate ship. He took a few more steps down the beach, becoming more confident in his stride as he went, and stared down at one of the dead pirates. He still had a savage hook stuck in his neck, and Huw wondered briefly who had killed him. Then with a sudden snarl of satisfaction, he relieved himself on the corpse. For a few moments, his flow was bloody but it soon cleared. When he finished, he spat in the dead buccaneer's face, and looked around again. A little way into the surf he saw his other companion. The lad was still ballock naked, up to his thighs in the sea, with a long piece of sharpened wood. He stood motionless, his back to Huw, and then thrust forward and down with a smooth jabbing motion that made the muscles of his shoulders dance, pulling up his makeshift spear with a wriggling fish on the end. Huw watched him for a few moments more, then returned to the cave - the Celt had no patience for spear-fishing, and he doubted the lad had made more than one spear. He saw two deep furrows in the sand, where two heavy objects -- the Celt and the Saxon no doubt -- had been dragged into shelter. He was impressed despite himself. The lad had more strength than he had initially judged, if he was able to shift Aelfric in his full hauberk. Back in the cave it was obvious that there were clothes, blankets and pieces of wood spread around the fire to dry them. He nodded in approval; the lad was clearly responsible, as neither he nor Aelfric had been in any state to arrange anything. The recent exertion had tired him greatly, and he slumped down on a broad flat rock near the cave mouth, resting his head on the cold cave wall, the chill stone causing him to shift his position a few times before his arse warmed it a little. A few minutes later, Huw opened his eyes as a shadow fell on him. The lad stepped into the mouth of the cave, with three fish impaled on his spear. As soon as he noticed Huw a worried expression spread across his face. Huw watched him in silence as he crossed the cave to the fire and started arranging the fish for cooking, expertly gutting and cleaning them. He kept glancing over at Huw as he worked, squatting naked on the far side of the fire. "Is there ... water?" rasped the Celt, his mouth and throat raw. The lad nodded. He stood up, moving slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal, bearing Aelfric's helmet which Huw soon saw was half-full of water. The lad offered it to him, his eyes downcast, and said nothing. Huw quenched his thirst, sparingly -- he had no idea how much water they had between them. He held the helmet for a moment, sizing the lad up. He was about the same size as Huw, but broader in the shoulder. On the ship he had thought the lad in his early twenties, but now upped his estimate a year or two. He had a tawny dusting of fur on his shins and forearms, thickening on his thighs and upper arms, thickening further to a dense forest at this crotch and a tangle of curls across his chest. He was unshaven, the hair on his face part-way between stubble and a beard. He had a shock of dark hair, and several blue-and-green tattoos on his bicep and shoulder. "Do you want to take me now?" asked the lad, still not looking up. He made as if to kneel, and Huw caught him by the shoulder. "What?" Huw growled. "I don't ... I don't mind if you want to take me now." The lad still hadn't looked up. Huw held his shoulder for a moment, his expression hardening. Then he sighed. He shifted his grip to the lads chin and forced his face up to meet his gaze. The lad looked scared but resigned, although Huw could see the suggestion of tears in dark brown eyes which made him look lost and alone. "What is your name lad?" asked Huw, roughly. "Beric, master." He said, his voice thick. "I'm not your master, lad." Growled Huw. "I am no mans master, nor would I be. I am Huw, and you should call me that. How old are you?" "We celebrated my coming of age five years back ma... Huw. But I do not know for sure." Huw let his arm fall. Beric looked away. "You are weak, Huw. I know how to ... how to pleasure ... how to please you without tiring you." Huw ground his teeth, and Beric looked up at him again, worried, as if he expected to be struck. "Lad. Beric. Did you drag me and that fat Saxon from the waves, into this cave?" Beric nodded, unsure what was going on. "Did you set a fire, tend to our wounds, find bracken and clothes and set them to dry? Collect water? Hunt for food?" Beric nodded a second time. "Did you take my axe?" Beric screwed up his eyes and flinched as if he expected to be hit. But he nodded a third time. "I ... I'm sorry, master. I needed ... something to cut the wood ... to sharpen ... " he trailed off. Huw considered a moment, then leant forward and placed both arms on the lads forearms. "Son ... never apologise for doing what needs doing. You have done well, and should never be ashamed of that." Beric opened his eyes, looking confused but he didn't try to shake free. "It should be me offering myself to you, lad. I owe you my life and that is not a debt to take lightly. Had I not sworn to my battle-brother to guard you, I would swear to do so now." The Celts tanned face darkened. He took a firmer grip on the lad, despite his aching muscles. "But never come come to me like a whore again. You demean both of us, aye and my blood-brother who has been your lover. Have you no father, to tell you these things?" Beric looked confused again. "I ... he died when I was young, on the boats." Huw nodded and spoke quietly, sincerely, relaxing his grip a little. "When I came of age my father took me with him into the wilds, to live under the stars and to talk and learn what it meant to be a man. He told me many things then, some of them wise and some of them foolish, as is the talk of men. Yet let me tell you this, and remember it as if I was your father. "No matter what you do with your lover, no matter what you desire, always start as equals. Look your lover in the eye and say 'Will you lie with me?' and if they look back and say 'aye, I will lie with you' then all is well. If you go to your lover with your eyes downcast, if you offer yourself up to be used like a slave, then you make yourself less, and you make your lover less. Do you understand?" Beric nodded. Huw leant closer. Over Beric's shoulder he could see Aelfric had roused, and sat himself up, watching them carefully. "Now if you will look me in the eye and say 'Huw! I want to lie with you' and tell me you want me to mount you like a horse, or that you want to mount me in turn, then I will lie with you. If you don't, if you are asking because you are beaten and afraid and desperate to keep me beside you, then look away and do not ask me again." Beric held his breath for a moment then let it out, and smiled -- the first time Huw had seen such an expression on the lads face. It transformed it, made him seem less a lad and more a man - and at the same time more handsome. "Huw, I want to lie with you. But not now, because I can smell our supper burning." The youth turned away, and Huw laughed explosively and slapped him on the rump, leaving a clear red handprint on his arse cheek as he went to crouch by the fire and turn the fish on their makeshift spits. Golden-furred Aelfric stood carefully, lumbered to the door and paused by Huw. "That was well done, Celt" he said quietly. "The lad has been badly used, and it helps none of us if his spirit remains broken." He glanced down at Huw's lap. "Especially as I can see how ready you were to spit the lad on your spear like one of those fish." He winked at the Celt, and Huw suppressed a smirk and instead frowned at the big Saxon as he went outside to relieve himself. *** The three men ate the fish, and talked a little. Neither Aelfric nor Huw had much strength, but Beric had energy enough for both of them. The two warriors had slept a day and a night, while Beric watched over them and made plans. They did not speak of the time on Logbrod's pirate vessel. Rather they made plans -- a fish apiece and some fruit was insufficient to victual fighting men, and they would need real food and drink soon enough. "I have seen wild pigs," said Beric as they sat around the fire. Aelfric shook his head. "A boar is not something for us to hunt in this weakened state. Thor's stinking pits, I am weak as a babe!" Beric disagreed - it seemed Huw's earlier words had helped to stiffen the lads spine. "These are not like boars, Aelfric. They are more like suckling pigs. I wager they are succulent and their meat sweet, for they feed on a bounty of fruit. I have a spear, and you your sword and Huw his axe. Now that we have some meat inside us, we should hunt bigger game!" Aelfric laughed, then growled. "I can think of other meat you can put inside you lad!" Huw smiled to see Beric blush, but spoke up before the banter could go any further. "Let us hunt a pig, then, and eat like men. The beach outside is rich with carrion, but I do not think I want to stay here until the haunch of one of those filthy pirates begins to seem appetising. Let us hunt, my stomach thinks that my throat has been cut, and growls worse than this fat Saxon does when he sleeps!" Aelfric spluttered, and Beric laughed again, and the three men prepared themselves for a hunt. They dressed and readied themselves in silence, saving their strength for the hunt. Armed and armoured, they ventured out onto the beach. Twilight had gathered while they ate and planned, but the moon was full and the stars bright. Aelfric studied the sky for a few minutes while Beric emptied his bladder, and frowned. "I think we are very far south, further than I have ever been." He said in a quiet voice to Huw. He was clearly worried. "We have been gone very far off course, I think, and it is possible we are the first men to tread these shores. I do not know how we will get back to civilisation." Huw spat. "Civillisation? Pah! If these pigs are as sweet as the lad claims, and we can find enough fruit to ferment something to drink, I could live out my life here without grieving for a 'civilisation' that breeds men such as that raddled whore's-cunt Lodbrog!" Their eyes adjusting to the deepening darkness, the three men made their way up the beach away from the rotting corpses of the pirates. Huw and Aelfric were experienced hunters, who had tracked game together before. They communicated by grunts and hand-gestures as much as by words, but it was clear Beric was not wise in woodcraft. He stumbled when they moved into the trees, swearing as he tripped over roots and entangled himself in branches. "At this rate we will announce our presence to every animal on the island!" growled Aelfric, frustrated. Beric was no less frustrated, but then the big Saxon squeezed his shoulder and laughed and said "Ah, lad, we'll make a woodsman of you yet. Watch how I do it!" It took the better part of an hour, but they came upon a pack of pigs rooting and snorting as they gorged themselves on fallen fruit. Without a bow or a good throwing spear, the men were forced to sneak as close to the animals as possible and then rush in, striking with sword and axe. The pigs scattered, squealing and fleeing in all directions, but when the fight was over two of the animals were dead. The hunters, victorious, took them back to the beach to clean them. Beric, it turned out, was skilled at preparing the pig-meat. He grinned a little sheepishly as he expertly cut and dressed the meat, admitting that he had been apprenticed to a butcher for a time, before he decided to go to sea. His smile slipped slightly as he thought of the sea and of what had happened, and Aelfric changed the subject, taking up with a bawdy song about a butcher's son. Huw joined in at the chorus, and the moment passed. Later, they lay under the stars, bellies full, tired but contented. Aelfric had shrugged off his hauberk, and lay with his back to the trunk of a tree, sucking his fingers clean with an audible smacking of lips, his beard and thick pelt of chest hair glistening with pig fat. Beric busied himself preparing the rest of the pig, setting it to cook slowly, to be eaten tomorrow and the remainder carried with them. Huw sat quietly, watching. His cooking done, Beric threw himself down on the grassy sand beside his two companions. "Do you think we are safe out here, under the open sky?" He asked. Huw shrugged. "I saw no sign of any large predator when we hunted the woods. I think we are as safe here as back in the cave." The Saxon grunted and stopped licking his fingers long enough to say "And I for one will be damned before I will stumble back to the cave when I can lie here with my companions and enjoy the smell of cooking pig flesh!" He rubbed his furry belly contentedly. Then his eyes slid sideways to Beric, and a thoughtful expression came over his face. "You are still a little bloody, lad, from your butchery." Beric had stripped to his breeches, and had made an effort to clean himself after gutting the animals, but was still spattered here and there with dark dry pig blood. It was matted in the hair on his arms and chest. He stood up quickly. "I had better wash again," he said, worried. "You should not be so quick, son, to jump up when Aelfric speaks," said Huw. "Don't be so eager to please - bathe again in the morning, lad, if you want. It is too late for splashing around in the dark." The big Saxon grinned then. "I remember a time when neither he nor I washed any part of ourselves, save with beer for three months when we fought King Eiger's men. The stink of us was enough to strike a Viking dead at ten paces!" Alefric laughed at the memory. Beric looked a little uncertain, still uncertain, worried the older men were making sport of him. Without realising, he rubbed at his side where a yellowed bruise spoke of some recent abuse. He sat back down again a little distance away, nearer the fire, across from his two companions. "I remember that after the siege, the horses would not let us ride them, we stank so badly," mused Huw. "The river turned black where we bathed, and after half a day in the water we merely smelled very bad indeed." Aelfric winked over at the Celt. "I think that was part to do with the way that whenever we got a little clean, we went to work on another good sweat, undoing all our good work washing." "It was a bad siege." said Huw shortly, and the Saxon nodded. "I have never been in a siege," said Beric, poking the fire with a stick. "Nor should you want to be," said Aelfric a little moodily. "We lost good friends, and both of us did things that were not worthy of us." The mood round the fire became darker, gloomy, and the darkness seemed to press in against them. Aelfric shook himself. "And then we fucked for a day and a half. Fucked to fuck away the memories, fucked for our dead friends who could fuck no more. We did a good job, I think, of honouring their memory by that river." Huw laughed despite himself. "Aye, and in the lodge in the mountains later. I thought I would not walk again. Or drink again, after we finished those barrels we took from the King's cellar." The Saxon and the Celt shared the memory. Huw felt a stirring in his loins. He slid his eyes sideways to the lad by the fire for a moment, then back to Aelfric. "I truly thought I had met my end on that boat," he said in a quiet voice, trying to pitch it so Beric did not hear. "Tied to a barrel as the plaything of a fat slug and his bastards, then back to torture and slow, painful death." The Saxon shook his head and made a gesture of negation. "Think of it no more. Lodbrog and his scum feed the gulls, and we laze on the beach with bellies full of pig flesh." "Aye," said Huw. "Aye." He met the Saxon's gaze and said, softly "Will you lie with me, Aelfric? Like that time by the river?" The Saxon relied equally softly. "Ah, Huw, we are neither of us as young as we were and I lack the strength to lie with you the way we did by the river ..." Then he grinned and licked some more pigfat from his moustache and guffawed. "But by Thor's swollen thews I would like to give it a good try!" Blood and Salt Ch. 02 Aelfric looked over to Beric, then back at Huw. Huw stood, and the Saxon with him. Alefric spoke to Beric "We will go a little apart, to ... to look for tracks." Huw shook his head and rolled his eyes at his blood-brother's flimsy lie. Beric did not look at them. "Do not move away to spare my blushes," he said. "Our house was small, when I was a child we had only one bed for our whole family. I may be young, but not so much that I have not been whoring with my friends, and I am not going flee like a startled virgin. Then on the ship ... and with Aelfric ... I knew it was to keep me safe as much as ... I have no ..." He trailed off. Huw and Aelfric looked at one another, but before the Saxon could say anything, Huw spoke to Beric. "Son. Beric. The Saxon and I are going to lie together, because we are blood-brothers and friends, and because I am cold and want arms around me. We will lie next to the fire because it is warm, and because I want to see him, and because we are not adulterers, sneaking around in the darkness for fear of your feelings. What is between you and Aelfric is between you and him, but if you want to join us ... two pairs of arms will warm me as well as one." The lad looked surprised, and said quietly. "You shame me, Huw. I'm sorry. I have no claim to your friend. May I ... may I watch? As you did in the cave." Huw nodded. Aelfric laughed. Beric watched them both, as the Celt turned to the big Saxon and stepped closer to him. The blond giant loomed a head taller than the dark Celt, the firelight dancing on the pale skin of the one and the tanned skin of the other. They did not touch for a moment, then Aelfric ran one meaty paw up Huw's arm to his shoulder. "You have filled out a little since last we met," he said conversationally. "You are more burly than I remember, certainly." Huw in turn traced the line of green-and-blue ink describing a serpent or dragon over Aelfric's left shoulder. "This is new, I think?" The Saxon nodded, and Huw lent forward and put his mouth against it. Aelfric shuddered then, his whole body shaking. "By Thor's sweaty bollocks," he muttered. "How do you turn me into a shivering colt like that, Celt, with just your lips and your teeth?" Huw said nothing. He moved his mouth across the shoulder, following the line of Aelfric's collarbone, then down through the forest of golden hair to his nipple, biting and licking alternately, pressing his body against his companion's. He breathed in the heady musk of the Saxon, filling his lungs with the bearish scent. Aelfric in turn kissed the Saxon's dark curled head, and slid his hand, questing under Huw's tunic and lifting it to slide his hand back up, along his spine. Neither of them was aware of Beric moving slightly to get a better look. There was tenderness in their movements, but also a growing urgency. Huw let the Saxon's nipple drop out of his mouth -- a strand of spit connecting them for a moment -- then reached up and grabbed the larger man's head in both hands, pulling it down to meet his mouth. They kissed roughly, grinding against each other, devouring each other the way they had earlier devoured hot pig flesh. Huw licked some of the pig fat out of the giant's beard, then leant back to shrug off his tunic. Aelfric growled, grabbing the Celt in a lustful bear hug, lifting him up as if he were weightless, turning him around and hungrily kissing him again. Huw didn't struggle, meeting the Saxon's embrace with his own, then hooking the larger man's ankle with one foot sending them tumbling to the sandy grass, Huw on top. The Saxon uttering a surprised oath to find himself prone, and Huw sat up, straddling the blond mans bulky crotch. "Do you...?" gasped Aelfric once he had some of his breath back. "Should I ...?" Huw shook his head and ran his fingers through the Saxon's chest hair, down his belly, shifting a little to move his weight against the iron rod the big man had in his breeches. "I saw you in the cave," growled Huw. "With the lad, taking pleasure from each other. If I die tomorrow, I do not want that filthy cunt, that Lodbrog, rutting and grunting on me, forcing his fat little prick into my arse, to be my last memory of a man." The Celt leant forward, kissing the Saxon again, then pulling away. As the blond man yearned up towards him, Huw pushed him back down. He moved his mouth down over Aelfric's chin, following the hairy trail his hands had just explored, shifting his weight down the Saxon as he did so, shifting down onto his thigh, then his shins. He paused for a moment at Aelfric's waist, breathing in the ripe stink of the tangled forest that lay beneath his straining breeches. "I'm going to ride you, Aelfric, brother. Later I will mount you, but for now I want you to sheathe yourself in me, I want to rock back and forth impaled on your mast, and I want you to taste my juices as you did with the lad." As he spoke, the Celt rubbed and stroked his mate through his breeches, rocking back and forth on his ankles. A damp, spreading spot marked the rough material where the Saxon's prick drooled in anticipation of what was to come. The Saxon groaned, there was an answering groan from Beric, who had crept round even closer now, squatting just a few feet away. Huw pulled loose the drawstring of Aelfric's breeches, and yanked them down. The Saxon lifted himself up -- lifted both of them -- raising his arse so that the trousers slid free. His erect member sprang up straight, then bounced down and slapped against his belly. The Saxon reached up but Huw slapped his hands away, and he contented himself by lifting himself up on his elbows the better to watch what his battle-brother was doing. As he lowered his head to the hooded rod, Huw let a trickle of spit run over his lip and down the shaft. The Celt tongued the hood aside, bringing another breathless groan from the Saxon, sending another shiver through his entire meaty frame. The prickhead tasted salty and a little rank, but Huw took a firm grip on the shaft and gently tugged the smooth skin down towards the riot of golden hair at its base, sliding the hood down, revealing the dark, wet helmet beneath with tiny pieces of filth clinging to it. Huw swallowed the end, then pulled his head back up making a face. "Faugh, I wish I had ale or wine to wash this taste from my mouth. When did you last bathe?" Aelfric laughed. "I was not minded to take a bath on that filthy pirate ship," he growled. "If they looked too often on my god-like form then fear of my blade would not be enough to keep them at bay!" Huw engulfed the tip again, gazing up the length of Aelfric's furry form, keeping eye contact with the promise of what was to come. Then there was a tap on the Celt's shoulder, and he looked up surprised. Beric crouched next to him, and the lad was breathing as heavily as Huw was. "Here," he said, offering a handful of pork grease. "I should have done a better job of cleaning Aelfric myself, this will help with the taste ..." "Not just the taste," answered Huw. He stood up then, suddenly, and nodded down at the prone Saxon. "Do it lad," he said, "and save some for me." Beric seemed uncertain, looking up at Huw as the Welshman fumbled with his own drawstring, and the brawny Celt had to reach down and guide the lads hand to Aelfric's rod, sticking up like a mast from his thick curls. As he dropped his trousers round his ankles, and as Beric wrapped his greasy hand around Aelfric, Huw turned the lads face up towards him. The young man was flushed, and the Celt paused for a moment before kissing him hard and hungry. The three of them were connected by hand and prick and their mouths, before Huw broke free and dropped forward again, licking and nipping at Aelfric's salty ball sack. On all fours, he thrust his furry arse into the air, and as he felt tentative hands on his cheeks was pleased that Beric did not need any further instruction. There was a tickle, then the sticky slickness of another handful of pork grease. "Get it in deep," panted Aelfric. "I am going to spit this Celt like a boar." Huw snuffled and snorted, then gasped and grunted as Beric, out of his sight, slid a greased finger into him. For a moment, he was reminded of Logbrog, and tensed. Beric obviously sensed his discomfort and pulled his finger free again, but Huw reached back and caught him. "No, no, lad. Don't stop. Get it right in there or this beast will tear me in half." Aelfric reached down and grabbed a handful of Huw's curls, trying to guide him back to his member, but the Celt refused to attend to it, saving his attention for the Saxon's belly and thighs and ballsack. Aelfric growled in frustration. "Stop teasing me!" he whined. Huw laughed, his face pressed against the golden curls of Aelfric's belly. Beric grabbed a third handful of grease for Huw's backside; he could feel the warmth as it slopped down into the hairs of his ballocks. The Celt jerked as Beric slid first one and then a second finger inside his greased opening, and rocked back a little, rotating his backside around the intruding fingers. The younger man was breathing heavily, let out a little mewling sigh of desire of his own. "There Huw, there you go. Greased like a festival day pig, you are." Huw regretfully pulled himself away from Beric, and clambered up the big Saxon's length, bringing their faces close together. Aelfrics eyes were half-shut, lidded with lust, as he caught the smaller man in a tight embrace, pulling their mouths together. Huw sat up straigh, knees on either side of his battle brother's waist, and looked back over his shoulder to Beric, hard member in hand. "Will you help me again lad? Grab this bull's prick and hold it steady. Guide him in." Beric let out a gasp of frustration but knelt behild Huw, fumbling for Aelfric's rod. "Careful lad!" Growled the Saxon. "I want to empty my balls into this cocky Celt, not your clumsy mitt." Huw felt Beric's other hand on his lower back, just above his crack, guiding him down. He felt a hot, slick bluntness nudging at his backside, and eased himself back, straightening as he did so. His furred cheeks bumped against Huw's fist, clenched around Aelfric's thick, greased pole. The Welshman huffed out a great breath as the Saxon's width bunched and then forced its way into his passage. Beric let go, letting Huw slide down until his arse was against Aelfric's thighs. The Welshman closed his eyes, the pain and the pleasure of the big cock inside him making the island and the desperate plight of the three men fade away. He revelled in the feel of his battle-brother beneath him, barely aware of the big man's hand kneading his chest, stroking his belly and thumbing the slit at the end of his throbbing member. He began to rock gently, shifting so that the greasy Saxon prick inside him churned his guts. He gasped and opened his eyes as Aelfric tensed and lifted the pair of them away from the sand with a gentle bucking motion that threatened to split Huw in half. He groaned his pleasure to the night sky. The tanned skin of the blond giant was flushed ruddy in the light of the fire, sheened in sweat. "Thor's grunting fuck, Huw!" Blasphemed the Saxon. "Your arse is like a fist ... clenched around my hilt!" Huw grinned down and clenched his muscles again, bringing a roar from the Saxon. Seeing his mate so free unleashed something inside the smaller Celt, who shifted and ground himself against the dick buried balls-deep inside him. He leant forward slowly, the Saxon lifting his knees against his cheeks, keeping his prick buried inside him. Huw gazed into the Saxon's eyes pointedly as he shifted his hips, bringing another gasping bellow of pleasure, relishing the coarse crotch hair rasping against his furred buttocks. The Saxon kept a hairy mitt clenched around Huws member, and began to work it with jerking motions, more passion than precision. Huw bit his lip, snarling hard, and growled deep in his chest, Aelfric's dick churning his guts. "Ah Huw, man, Welshman ..." Aelfric began a litany as his battle-mate rode him slowly but with increasing force. "Oh my friend," he said, in between gasps of exertion. "I have missed you. Missed you like this." Huw winked, but his throat was dry and his voice hoarse as he looked back to Beric and whispered. "If this Saxon can witter on so, like a fishwife at market, then I can think of something to better occupy his gob!" Aelfric laughed. "Aye lad!" he panted. "Come here and let me a taste of prick while I give this little bastard a taste of my own!" He lifted his body up again suddenly, lifting Huw as he did so, and drawing a startled grunt of pain and joy from the Celt. Beric hesitated barely a moment before dropping to his knees by Aelfric's head, his stiff rod bouncing above his tawny bollocks as he did so. Aelfric kept one hand on Huw's urgent member, then engulfed the other man's prick and swallowed the end with gusto. Beric swore, nearly falling forward over the Saxon. It was clear that Aelfric was past the point to be gentle. His fist closed tight around Huw, and he licked and slurped Beric as Beric whimpered and twitched at the warrior's tongue and lips. He lasted barely a moment, and as the lad paid out his tangy load into Aelfric's maw, Huw felt the Saxon tense and mutter a roar muffled by the thick rod buried in his throat. The sight of Aelfric and Beric, the feel of the big man's dick, the smell of meat and sweat and the tangy musk of men fucking; a kaleidoscope of sensation overwhelmed Huw. He threw back his head and bellowed to the sky, throwing his arms out wide as Aelfric thrust up into him again, the blond man's prick thickening even more - as if that was possible! - before it exploded inside him, spraying gout after gout of thick seed into his hungry arse. Even as Huw's own muscles tensed for release, a fearful sound split the silence! All three men froze. Aelfric gazed up at the Saxon, dazed and confused from his release, soaked in sweat and with dribbles of Beric's seed fresh in his golden beard. From the depths of the forest behind them rose a ghastly and inhuman scream. Shrill, yet of great volume, it rose higher and higher until it ceased at the highest pitch, like the triumph of a demon, like the cry of some grisly ogre gloating over its human prey. "Thor's sweaty bollocks!" gasped the Saxon. "What is that?" Huw stood suddenly, his friend's shaft pulling free of his tight arse ring, his erect member sticking out accusingly as he turned toward the forest. He was unsteady on his feet, as was Aelfric as he scrabbled for his axe. Huw shook his head. Even his iron nerve was slightly shaken. "Some fiend of the forest!" he gasped. "This is a strange land in a strange sea, but it is a rude beast indeed to interrupt is like this, Aelfric." "Help me lad," gasped Aelfric. Beric grabbed up his trews, and then moved to help the larger warrior get his hauberk on, stumbling over his own feet as he did so. Huw twisted his face into a snarl, still panting, desperate for a release but also soldier enough to know that the time for love-making was gone for the moment. His balls churned like the sea around the rocks. "I am going to kill this beast, I am going to kill it stone dead," he rasped as he stuffed his half-mast manhood into his trews and tied the drawstring with savage jerks. "Then I am going to spend my seed in someone's arse, before my bollocks burst. I do not care whose arse it is, but they are going to feel every pint!" He grabbed his axe, looking over to where Aelfric was bent over, shrugging into his maille with Beric acting as his squire. The Welshman growled low in his throat, lust rising in him again at every jerk of the Saxon's furry arsecheeks, and his member began to rise again, a wet spot drooling onto the front of his breeches. He felt the warm slickness at his backside of Aelfric's seed, and the slow ache of his abused muscles burnt inside him competing with the adrenaline that the bestial shriek had send surging through his blood. As the Saxon finished girding, he turned and Huw laughed, without mirth. "You still have young Beric's snot in your beard, Saxon!" Aelfric's face was flushed both with sated-lust and with battle-fire. He swiped one burly mit across his face, stared down at it and licked his palm clean. "Monster?" he grunted to Huw. The Celt nodded. "Huw do you think it ..." Began Beric. A wild shriek cut him short. This time it was a human voice, blood-chilling in its horror and despair. Simultaneously came the swift patter of feet and the lumbering rush of some heavy body among the trees. The warriors faced toward the sound, and out of the deep shadows a half-naked woman came flying like a white leaf blown on the wind. Her loose hair streamed like a flame of gold behind her, her pale limbs flashed in the firelight, her eyes blazed with frenzied terror. And behind her - Even Huw's hair stood up, and his softening member lost all rigidity at the sight. The thing that pursued the fleeing girl was neither man nor beast. In form it was like a great ape, but such an ape as the rest of the world had not seen for many an age. Some twelve feet high it towered, and its evil head with the wicked yellow eyes and cruel curved tusks was as big as a horse's head. The long arms reached towards the fleeing woman, and the musky stink of it nearly overwhelmed then men on the beach. This much Huw saw in one glance as he sprang between the monster and its prey who sank down with a cry on the beach. It loomed above him like a mountain of death, rearing back for a moment to pound its massive man-like fists upon its chest. It was plainly greatly aroused, a member as thick as one of Beric's arms thrusting from it's groin, the thick leathery skin pulled back to reveal a throbbing red cock-head like a third dripping eye. Then it struck down with one clawed bone crushing blow that Huw barely dodged. At the same instant he struck, but the keen ax sank harmlessly into a cushioning mass of thick fur and fat. The beast lunged forward, grabbing the doughty Celt in two arms and hugging it close. He gagged on the animal stench, as the creature started to crush him against its chest, his face trapped between his body and that of the massive ape. Then Aelfric ran in, and bracing his feet wide, swung his great sword with both hands and all his strength. The mighty blade sheared through one of the tree-like legs below the knee, and with an abhorrent screech, the monster sank on its side, pounding its heavy fists against the ground. Beric, who had hung back, darted forward and drove the fire-hardened point of his makeshift wooden spear deep into one of the glaring yellow eyes, and twisted. The gigantic ape gave one last terrible, bone-chilling shriek, kicked convulsively and lay still. The younger lad stepped back, pale and trembling. "Thor's throbbing shaft!" Aelfric's gray eyes were blazing with battle lust. "Truly we've come to the rim of the world -" "Watch the forest lest another come forth," snapped Huw, then looked to Beric to see if he was wounded. Huw realised the Cornisman had pissed himself in terror, and remembered how it had been in his first battle. He smacked the lad on the back with one hand, panting still from the battle. "Twice now lad! Twice you have saved my life." He said with forced bravado, aware that more than a few droplets of piss had mingled with the fuck juices on the front of his own trews. Beric managed a weak smile at the Welshman, then turned to one side and threw up the remains of their pig supper. The Welshman patted him on the shoulder as he did so. "There you go lad, get it all out." he said, his voice more gentle than his visage suggested. Once Beric and stopped retching, he stood up straight and looked towards the newcomer, the half-naked woman. Blood and Salt Ch. 02 She had scrambled to her feet and stood panting, eyes wide with wonder. A splendid young creature she was, tall, clean-limbed, slim and shapely. Her only garment was a torn piece of white linen hung carelessly about her hips. She spoke hastily, stammeringly, as if she had not so spoken in years. "You ... who are you men? When come you? What do you on the Isle of the Gods? Wait ... you are a Celt? And you there ... a Saxon!" "Thor's hairy arse!" rumbled Aelfric; "We are far south, but I would wager she's of our own kind! We're not the first to be shipwrecked here it seems! There may be hope of a way off this island after all ..." ********************* Second Interlude ********************** This is all going a bit biographical, I guess. To recap, partly thanks to my Uncle Barry (if you believe that kind of crap), I had a taste for manly men - like most of the men in my life. Growing up in the North of England this was not an easy taste to have. While I could imagine an night of drinking, fighting and fucking with Fafhrd and his little boyfriend, the average bloke down the boozer would smack the shite out of me if he caught me checking out his meat-and-two-veg in the pisser. Reading back through that early home-made porn, it's painfully clear what I wanted. A proper man I could have a pint and a fuck with. I didn't have much luck with it in my teens when I was painfully in the closet and overcompensated to a shameful degree. I even fucked a few lasses, furtive sweaty encounters in shoddy places. I'm surprised to this day that unlike a lot of my mates I had the good sense to empty my nuts into a rubber, rather than end up saddled with kids before I was 20. It was mostly a phase, and interspersed through it were a couple of wild nights experimenting. Then I got my old car - a shitheap that was held together with rust, you know the sort of thing. Until I was about twenty-three I thought that blokes fucked in cars, carparks and garages. I started to associate the smell of oil and petrol with fucking and to this day I have to have a quick wank before I drop the car off at a garage or run the risk of an enthusiastic boner. Then at twenty-three I moved away from home, got picked up in a pub of all places, and ended up with a brickie of all things who reminded me just a little bit of Uncle Barry. He sorted me out and set me straight, so to speak. That little speech Huw gives early on in this chapter is almost word-for-word what I remember him saying to me that first night, probably the first time I had ever fucked a guy in a bedroom rather than somewhere sleazy. I didn't stay the night, but he gave me his number and I went back a few more times. He introduced me to his boyfriend - another man's man like himself more-or-less living the lie of the 80s and 90s, pretending to be a typical blue-collar thug in public and fucking his best mate in private. That scene on the beach, where Beric guides Aelfric into Huw's arse? Written from the memory that is, of the first time I was with the three of them. My first threesome ... and barely twenty-four. They were good lads, and it was always casual with them. A few years after I met them I moved again, and we celebrated with such a fuckfest as I have barely had since. So there we leave Huw, Beric and Aelfric for a bit, and there we leave me - having learnt the ways of the world from some old bears, and moving down to the evil city of London in search of work. Hopefully it won't be a year or so before I do me next installment.