Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5466779.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      תנ"ך_|_Tanakh
  Relationship:
      David/Yehonatan_|_David/Jonathan
  Character:
      Yehonatan_|_Jonathan, David_(Abrahamic_Religions), Shaul_|_Saul, Merav
      bat-Shaul_|_Merab
  Additional Tags:
      Adult/Teen_relationship, Yuletide_Treat, Yuletide_2015, Foreskin
      collection_from_the_dead, Battle, Oral_Sex, Interfemoral_Sex, Underage
      Sex
  Collections:
      Yuletide_2015
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-20 Words: 4273
****** The Wind to the Lake ******
by fresne
Summary
     Jonathan felt as exposed as a mountain peak, while David's face was
     the lake that gave nothing back but the empty blue of the sky. He
     felt spun around by David. Though he was the prince and a man grown,
     and David was just a shepherd boy. Jonathan was the one mastered.
     David laughed. "If one of us is a lake, it is you. While I am the
     wind, the Lord sends to the lake and the mountain."
Notes
     Thanks to Mara for the SPAG beta. Any remaining errors are my own.
     Hopefully this meets the ask for canny David, naif Prince Jonathan.
     I have somewhat reversed the order of events as canonically told to
     allow for David to be the armor bearer who went with Jonathan to
     Micmash. Also, added foreskin collection from the dead to said event.
See the end of the work for more notes
David pulled back until only the aching head of Jonathan's cock was still
lodged in his mouth. His clever tongue licked as if Jonathan were made of
honey. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked and his ruddy lips were wrapped tight.
David's fingers were slick with olive oil. They twisted. He stroked Jonathan's
cock like the strings of a harp. Jonathan felt like he was the weeping harp.
Jonathan's fingers pulled on David's soft hair almost of their own accord. This
appeared to be a signal for David and he swallowed Jonathan down to the root.
Jonathan had meant to warn the young shepherd before he came—instead he found
himself pulsing into that warm wet mouth with only a gasp for warning.
David swallowed around Jonathan until there was nothing left but limp
exhaustion. David pulled off him with a lewd pop of his lips.
Jonathan lay half sprawled on his bed and half across David's on the floor of
Jonathan's tent. He brushed his knuckles along David's cheek. "How did you
learn to…I mean…are you always alone while tending the sheep? Or perhaps, there
is…when you are here at court do you…I mean… how did you learn to do that?"
There was a needier note than Jonathan wanted in his voice.
David wiped the back of his hand across the plump curve of his lips. "I write
songs to the Lord when I watch the sheep. When I am at court, I play my harp to
soothe the spirits the Lord sends to plague your father, or I serve as your
armour bearer."
His expression gave nothing away. Jonathan felt as exposed as a mountain peak,
while David's face was the lake that gave nothing back but the empty blue of
the sky. Jonathan blurted some garbled version of that idea.
David laughed. "If one of us is the lake, it's you, Jonathan." He brushed a
thumb across Jonathan's nipple from where David had unlaced Jonathan's tunic.
Jonathan was completely spent. Still, he shivered at the touch. "You respond to
every word that passes your surface." Straddling Jonathan's thighs, David
climbed into Jonathan's lap. He was so slight.
Jonathan took after his father, who stood a head taller than all the men of
Israel. Jonathan was the crown prince of Israel; David was a shepherd. David
was a servant; Jonathan was the one mastered.
David said, "You." He pressed a kiss onto Jonathan's mouth, his mouth tasting
bitter from Jonathan's seed. "Respond." His mouth tasted of the honey wine he
always drank before they met. "To every touch."
Jonathan felt a fierce fire in his heart that longed to warm David's smaller
body. The boy wasn't even done growing, while Jonathan was a man grown. He
should flush with shame to take a boy as his lover. "I've done nothing, but
want to reflect you since Jershaboam, who commands the servants, said that your
playing could soothe the spirits the Lord sends to torment my father. You
blazed with light that first night in the banquet pavilion."
David nipped Jonathan's lower lip. "I made sure Jershaboam heard my playing, or
do you think the master of the King's servants often hears shepherds with their
sheep? I deliberately sat under the oil lamp, but I may as well have been the
rug for all anyone noticed me."
"I noticed you. You held your harp to your chest and played with such skill
that my youngest sister Michal had to be taken from the tent." Jonathan wrapped
his arms around that narrow chest.
"My harp is as wide as my chest. I know what I look like. I'm the youngest of
eight children. I know how to jockey for an elderly father's favour."
"You sang like a messenger of the Lord." Jonathan did not say that David's song
had hollowed out a hole in Jonathan's heart. A hole that was only filled when
David came to court to soothe the dark spirits that plagued Jonathan's father.
"I asked my mother to keep you here to be near my father if he had another
fit." Jonathan was rueful. "She sends Michal to stay with our aunt when you are
here."
"The Queen is a wise woman." David laughed, kissing Jonathan's shoulder. "But I
think we've been in here more than long enough for me to take your armour off
you and dress you for dinner. As it is, I'll have to rush it."
Jonathan wanted to keep holding David. He hadn't even returned the favour of
bringing David to completion, wasting all their time holding him. He would have
to do better when they returned to the tent later that night.
Jonathan let go.
He let David wrap him back up in his clothes. He could have been an idol that
David dressed. "There now. You're presentable."
David went to the opening of the tent.
Jonathan said, "If I am the lake, then what are you?" The question seemed
infinitely important.
David came back. He smoothed Jonathan's hair. "I am the wind that the Lord
sends into the valley and into the peaks." He left the tent.
Jonathan followed David. He always followed David. They went into the banquet
pavilion that had been set up in Gibeah under the pomegranate trees.
"Jonathan, what took you?" his mother asked.
His tongue tied in his mouth.
"His helmet made his hair resemble more wool than hair. It wasn't easy putting
it to rights."
Mother nodded. "Then you made the right choice." She widened her eyes with some
sort of significance. "Cousin Ezikiah is here."
Jonathan looked at his older sister, Merab, but all she did was sigh. "Going on
about his victories in battle. But it's worse than that, Mother, he convinced
the servants to give Malchi-shua, Abinadab, and Ish-bosheth unwatered wine."
"And your father?"
Merab raised both hands as if in defeat.
Mother groaned. She looked at Jonathan and David. "At least of all my sons, I
don't have to worry about you." She bustled off with Merab immediately behind
her. Jonathan wondered sometimes if she regretted when the prophet Samuel
anointed father as king. She'd been a farmer's wife once, but now she was the
queen of a king always at war.
Jonathan took his place at the table, sitting at his father's right hand.
David brought Jonathan food and wine at the table. He watered the wine himself
and Merab smiled in approval from across the room.
Jonathan's younger brothers, Malchi-shua, Abinadab, and Ish-bosheth, were at
their seats down the line from Jonathan. They were already gripping their cups
and swaying.
Now, most nights, if one of them stood up to speak to Father, David would say,
"My prince was saying something about that just the other day." He would repeat
some remark that Jonathan had said. David always added some additional word or
gesture that would have Father howling with laughter and slapping Jonathan on
the back. Jonathan was always very clever when filtered through David's mouth.
Mother would look on with approval and some relief.
That night, Cousin Abner, who commanded Father's armies, asked if Cousin
Abner's son, Cousin Ezikiah, could sit at Father's left hand.
That night, Father said, "Of course, for the general who led us to victory at
the battle of Timer, anything is possible. Even a place at my right hand."
That was Jonathan's place. He looked at his father wide eyed, opening his mouth
to say something. He turned his head to look at David. David would know what to
say. But David was already moving Jonathan's brothers down the table. Jonathan
stood up, feeling exposed as an open wound before the whole court. He looked at
his mother, whose lips were tight. She turned and said to Merab, "What can be
taking the cook? There's no bread on the table." They both scurried off,
seeking baskets of bread.
Jonathan felt alone.
His youngest brother, Malchi-shua, laughed at something David said to him and
Jonathan flinched. Malchi-shua said, "Yeah, you're right. Some victory. We lost
three to the Philistine's one at the battle of Timer."
"Such was the will of the Lord, Prince Malchi-shua," said Cousin Ezikiah,
sitting heavily in Jonathan's seat. "We did what it took to win the valley."
David was looking at Jonathan from down the table but Jonathan didn't know what
he was trying to say.
Malchi-shua asked, "I hope the Lord doesn't want us to die like that all the
time for nothing better than a valley in the middle of nowhere."
Father said, "Silence, Malchi-shua. When you've had such a victory, you can
talk." He slammed his hand on the table and the platters jumped. Jonathan
looked at the spears that always rested on a rack behind father. Everyone
looked at the spears and Mother rushed back into the pavilion.
She calmed down when she heard David speak: "If my prince will sit, I'll bring
some more wine." In the banquet hall, he always called Jonathan ‘my prince.’ He
never used Jonathan's name when they were with others.
Jonathan sat and David brought nothing but water for him. Jonathan looked at
him with the aching wound in his wide eyes, but David shook his head slightly.
He poured rich wine for everyone at the table, pouring more for Cousin Ezikiah
than anyone else.
Everyone's faces grew flushed. Their eyes drooped. Mother and Merab went with
worried looks to their beds.
David said, "My prince, a word, if you will, outside."
Jonathan said, "Father, do I have your permission to go?"
Father waved a hand. He slurred, "Yes, guh…go." He laughed at something Cousin
Ezikiah said about pretty young armour bearers.
Jonathan did not flinch, following David to their tent.
David said in a loud voice that echoed across the field, "My prince, of course
I will follow you tonight when you go to attack the Philistines above the pass
at Micmash."
Jonathan hadn't said anything. He whispered, "I can't attack the Philistines. I
don't have my father's permission."
David smiled. He said very softly, "I and all the court were there when he gave
you permission to go. They won't remember what it was permission was for." He
plucked weapons and supplies from their boxes. He reached into a half hidden
box, unlocking it and pulled out a sack. He winked at Jonathan. "It wouldn't do
to leave this behind."
They were already leaving Gibeah by moonlight before Jonathan asked, "Why are
we attacking the fortress above Micmash?"
"Beyond the fact that they are Philistines?" was David's reply. His voice
sounded like it was a joke. It was no joke for two lone men to face a fortified
camp of some hundred Philistines.
"Beyond that," said Jonathan. The moon was half full. He could hardly see the
rocks in front of him. He used his spear as a staff in the starlight.
"You are your father's heir. He keeps you close at his side even in battle. No
matter how you fight, your every victory is his victory."
"He doesn't do it on purpose," protested Jonathan. His father was a good man.
He had a plain spoken heart. He shared every thought with Jonathan.
"I know. If you are the lake, your father is the mountain. He wants every
reflection to be of him. But while the Lord sees into the heart, men see what
is on the surface. Your Cousin Abner gives your men to his sons to lead and
sends them to fight the Philistines. When they lose, it is because they don't
have enough men. When they win, it's a great victory that increases their
standing in everyone's eyes."
"But," Jonathan stumbled for words, "why are we going to face the Philistines
tonight?"
David stopped on the road and stood up on his toes. He pressed a brief kiss to
Jonathan's lips. "Because, to my surprise, I'm with you heart and soul and I
want you to prosper in your time."
David walked down the trail and Jonathan followed him.
The trail led up the cliff of Bozez to where the Philistine fortress perched
above the pass of Micmash.
"Now what?" whispered Jonathan. He peered above the rocks at where the guards
stood watch at the fortress gate.
David smiled. He reached down into his pouch and pulled out a smooth river
rock. The sound of his sling spinning sounded like the wind across the desert.
He let the rock fly. It struck one of the guards square in the throat. He
gasped for breath. The other guard turned to him.
Jonathan ran forward with his spear in hand, killing the second guard. David
was a shadow over the stones, slitting the first guard's throat with a knife.
The blood of the first guard was black on the stones.
David opened the gate.
Inside the fortress, most of the men were asleep in their beds. Some were deep
in their cups. It sent a sharp chill through Jonathan. His father was even then
as vulnerable as these men. His mother and his sister were asleep. His brothers
were slumped at the table. What Jonathan was doing wasn't a battle. It was a
slaughter.
"This wasn't meant to be a battle," said David, after he killed the last
Philistine in his sleep. "But it is a victory. Your victory."
David bent among the dead. He lifted men's tunics. He cut foreskins from soft
cocks with his knife.
"What are you doing?" asked Jonathan. He swallowed. He hadn't meant his voice
to sound so high.
"Proving your victory," said David. He paused. "This would go faster if you
helped." He put another foreskin in his bag. "If it helps, think of them as
sheep. We always have to castrate the rams before we slaughter them. Otherwise
the meat is bitter."
It didn't help.
Jonathan pulled out his knife. He spoke to distract himself. "I was just a boy
when the Prophet Samuel anointed Father as king. Grandfather was an important
man in our town. But we were the smallest clan in the tribe of Benjamin.
Sometimes, I wonder what my life would have been if father hadn't sought out
the prophet looking for grandfather's missing donkeys."
David stopped. The ruddy firelight flickered across his face. "Really?"
"Yes," said Jonathan. He stood up. He went to the well to wash his hands of
blood. "He thought he could pay him a quarter of a silver shekel for a vision.
So, you see, it was lucky chance that made me a prince."
"No." David took a brand from the fire in the hearth. "I've met Samuel. The
Lord caused those donkeys to walk away. So a man who would think to pay less
than a shekel for a vision would be anointed king." He threw it into the straw
that lined the floor of the barracks. Black smoke curled from the building into
the early dawn. David looked at Jonathan, his smile ruddy in the blaze of
burning building. "The Lord picked a tall handsome man with a simple heart to
rule his people."
Jonathan said, "I've heard it whispered that my father has lost the Lord's
favour. That the Lord sends the spirits that torment father in the winter. That
he has sent Samuel to anoint a new king. Somewhere he may have already chosen
another simple man seeking his donkeys. Samuel certainly hasn't come to see
me."
David looked down into the valley. He didn't say anything for a long time.
The wind whistled up the valley and fanned the fire.
David said, "See, there is your father at the head of the army. There is the
Arc of the Covenant being carried in the middle."
They met the army in the middle of the pass. David called out with his loud
singer's voice. He said, "Your son, the Crown Prince, was successful on the
mission you sent him on. As you commanded, here are the foreskins of the
thousand Philistines, who held the fortress that blocked the pass."
Jonathan wasn't sure how it could be a thousand, but when they were counted,
there were a thousand foreskins in the bag.
Cousin Ezikah looked in the bag doubtfully. "Some of these appear old and
dried. How do we know you didn't simply collect foreskins cut for our covenant
with the Lord? How do we know these aren't from sheep?"
Father scowled. "Are you questioning my son?"
David said, "If your Majesty will pardon my pointing out, but in our haste in
some cases we cut more than just the foreskin." He pointed at the contents of
the bag.
Father laughed. "My son, you'll never make a Levite priest. But come, the
Philistines are running after what you've done. If you're not too tired, go
with us and take care to stay close to me."
Jonathan did his best to smile away his weariness. Certainly his Cousin
Ezikah's scowl was refreshing. "I am not too tired."
They chased the Philistines all the way to Beth Aven. Jonathan ran ahead of the
men, David not far behind. David plucked stones from the ground that whistled
through the air like the wind and struck down men with a rock at their heels.
Jonathan then finished them with his spear.
They ran so fast that Jonathan and David became separated from the army. They
could not see the Arc of the Covenant or the Philistines in the thick woods.
The trees were as round as houses and the air was thick with the smell of
cedar. They came to a lightning-struck tree. An opening in the bark oozed with
honey.
Jonathan scooped some up with his fingers, licking them clean. David watched
him with his lush lips slightly parted, breathing heavily from their run.
Jonathan said, "The honey is sweet. Life is sweeter." He bent and kissed David
in the shelter of the tree's trunk. Jonathan pressed David back against the
ashen wood, his fingers tugging in David's soft hair.
It was dangerous. The Philistines could be anywhere.
Jonathan was alive. David was alive. And David's kisses were as sweet as honey.
David's clever fingers unbuckled the straps of Jonathan's armour. David wasn't
wearing any armour, so he threw off his tunic into the dense underbrush. David
wrapped his legs around Jonathan like a vine wraps around a tree and Jonathan
lifted David up. He rubbed their bodies together, kissing the honey oozing over
David's shoulder. Jonathan slid a finger inside David, who groaned. There was
no olive oil in a jar that David kept filled by Jonathan's bed for that
purpose.
David said, "Let go." Jonathan did not want to, but he let go.
David twisted in his arms. He leaned forward so his back was to Jonathan and
stood on a fallen branch so he would be tall enough for Jonathan's cock to
slide between the sweat-slick surfaces of David's thighs. David teetered on the
branch, but Jonathan steadied him with an arm wrapped around him. Jonathan
tasted the honey on David's shoulders, sliding his cock between David's thighs.
Jonathan held him pinned against his chest with one arm, while his other hand
worked at David's cock.
All around them, Jonathan could hear bees buzzing and the locusts calling each
other from the trees. It was a distant noise to his own heart beating. He could
hear David whisper, "Jonathan, for the Lord's mercy, don't stop." As if
Jonathan could have done anything but pump rapidly between David's strong
shepherd's thighs. As if he could do anything but spend himself there. Jonathan
shouted, "David! David! David!" He held David against his chest as he came.
Jonathan dropped to his knees. David nearly fell as Jonathan spun him back
against the tree, swallowing David's cock down. David tasted of honey. Even
when he came moments later with a sob. "Jonathan!"
They held each other in the burnt out trunk of the tree and slept for a while,
only waking in the late afternoon. They cleaned themselves in a nearby stream
and Jonathan took a honeycomb to eat as they went back in the direction they'd
come.
They found men from the army. The men gasped when they saw them. Jonathan
looked down, certain that what they'd been doing was written all over his body.
One of the men said, "Your father, the king, swore to kill any man who ate
before nightfall. That's why we're so faint with hunger."
"Oh, for…" said David. He sighed. "That's certainly an interesting way to run
an army."
Jonathan looked at the honeycomb. He felt something inside him twist. He said,
"The men should have eaten what the Philistines abandoned as they fled. Think
how much faster you could have run if you hadn't been hungry. We might have
defeated more Philistines."
"How many did you defeat, Prince Jonathan?" asked a soldier.
"We took enough food to feed a thousand at least," said David. "The Philistines
won't be eating that bounty." He looked at Jonathan and whispered, "Or do you
think the bees make honey for our benefit?"
They men around them talked. They talked about how the battle would not have
been possible if Jonathan had not taken the fortress. Soon David's claimed
thousand became ten thousand dead Philistines in the woods. Jonathan opened his
mouth to correct them, but David touched his wrist. He shook his head no.
"You'll need their talk if what they say about the king's vow is true."
They found Jonathan's father in Beth Aven, raging that any Philistines had
escaped. He wanted to go into the towns beyond and plunder till dawn. Then he
saw the honey on Jonathan's mouth.
Throwing his spear in the dirt, his father said, "May the Lord kill me if I do
not kill you for breaking my vow."
David shouted, "Are you going to let your prince die?" He moved to stand behind
another man and deepened his voice. "Prince Jonathan delivered Israel today."
The men gathered around Jonathan. They yelled, "Not a hair on his head shall be
cut." They marched back to the camp among the pomegranate trees. His father was
still raging and Jonathan went after him into the banqueting pavilion. He stood
tall in front of his father. They were of equal height.
David came in with his harp. He was small and frail in comparison. He sat in a
shaft of the last light of day. He sang like a messenger of the Lord and
Jonathan saw his father's expression change. Calling out for food and drink,
his father said, "Wine for my son, who killed a thousand Philistines in the
morning that made possible my ten thousand in the afternoon."
Mother came in then with Merab. "I am of proud of you my son,” she said. “We
are all proud of you." She looked at Jonathan with approval and at Father with
relief. She didn't even look at the floor where David played his harp.
Jonathan didn't protest. He sat next to his Father at the table.
His father talked about going with Jonathan into the land of Judah. He said,
"We can kill the Philistines together. Father and son."
Jonathan nodded, looking at David. He thought to himself that the winter was
almost over. It was almost time for David to return to herding sheep in the
hills.
That night, when they were dismissed, they returned to their tent and did not
go out to attack fortresses.
David straightened Jonathan's robes. "When you go into battle, find a way to
show your good qualities. He's the mountain to your lake, my prince." Jonathan
didn't care about that. He cared that David would be returning to Bethlehem
soon.
Jonathan already felt his absence and he didn't wipe away the hot tears that
burned his cheeks. He wasn't ashamed. He wanted David to see them. He said,
"You will go back to your flocks. You'll forget me. While I will be lost
without my armour-bearer."
David brushed away Jonathan's tears, tasting them from his fingers. "No, it is
worse than that." Tears were welling in David's eyes. "To my misfortune, I will
be lost without my prince and I fear my loss will be much longer than yours."
Jonathan wrapped his fingers around David's narrow shoulders. "Then come with
me. Carry my armour. I cannot help but win every battle if you are there."
David shook his head. Tears were openly running down his cheeks. "I wish I
could. But the wind goes where the Lord sends it."
Jonathan had a sudden thought. "Has Samuel, said something to you? I know he
often prophesies in Bethlehem. I know he and your father, Jesse, often make
sacrifices together."
David kissed Jonathan. He said, "My three eldest brothers are soldiers in your
army. They'll be going with you when you go to Judah." His lashes were a wet
flick against Jonathan's cheek. "I will ask my father for permission to bring
them bread and cheese."
"Honey," whispered Jonathan. "Bring honey as well." He brushed his lips against
David's. "I want to taste it on your lips. I want to taste it on your skin."
"And honey," whispered David.
It was only later that Jonathan remembered that David had not answered the
question about Samuel. But it hardly mattered. As long as he had not prophesied
that David would not return. Jonathan put worry about prophecies from his mind.
Instead he looked forward to when he would see David again.
It was all a lake could do when the wind had blown in a different direction.
End Notes
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