FicWad

CHAPTER FOUR


The following night after we made love, we lay wrapped in each others’ arms. I more on my belly, chin propped upon his smooth, hairless chest. My coppery-skinned lover had his eyes closed and he appeared very peaceful. I wondered at his inner stillness living as we both did. That solid, quiet core struck me more exotic than his almost hawkish, handsome features and dark coloring.


“Walks Softly?”


“Aye, Frenchman.”


“What people do you come from?”


“The Savannuca or Savanna, a tribe of Shawnee, from along the Savanno River.”


“How came you to call a white man ‘brother’?”


“At a young age I became an orphan. The Garretts adopted me as their son.”


“James did not object?” My gaze snagged upon his wide, sculpted lips and I thought he must have the most beautiful mouth ever.


“Nay.” He embraced me and told me he would protect me always.”


Considering what he had threatened me with, it seemed James would honor his vow with zeal. I rubbed my nose against Walks Softly’s taut skin, breathing him in, savoring his unique scent. Everything about him appealed to me on a primal level. I thought of him with his previous lovers and jealousy stabbed barbed hooks in me. In a fashion, he had taken my virginity.


Riven with those thoughts, I asked, “Have you ever bedded a woman?”


After a slight pause, he commented, “The path of your thoughts has changed with much haste.”


I rolled to sit on the bed’s edge, my feet upon the floor. Sounds of evening revelry rose from the street below, along with the scent of street torches and cooking meat. “I wish to know.”


He folded his arms under his head, gazed at me with those obsidian eyes. “Nay.”


“Have you something against them?” I suffered the sudden need to understand his sexuality.


“Quite the contrary,” he replied. “I respect them very much.”


Now truly deviled by my envy, I queried, “Always you have had male lovers?”


“Aye.”


“What of role? Did you always exchange give and accept?”


His voice lowered to an intimate, charged hush. “It would displease me to have my history questioned when you have cut a swath through both genders, through aristocratic boudoirs and many brothels.”


Swift rage filled me. I turned, put my knee on the bed and my palms on either side of his waist. My loose hair swung forward. Body braced on stiffened arms, I snarled, “I cannot bear the thought of your past lovers. The very ghost of their touch upon you infuriates me.”


He reached up to hold my jaw in his big, powerful hands. “Careful, Frenchman, you sound like a faithful lover.”


“You mock me.” I shoved upright and stalked across the room, then back. Lamplight flowed over the savage’s lean, long body.


He did not reply, rather continued to gaze at me. Thwarted and gouged by my own emotions, I yanked on my clothes and boots. I donned my weapons. He said nothing. I stalked to the door.


As I put my hand upon the knob, he broke silence. “We sail tomorrow. Do you depart, you forfeit our last time alone for perhaps months.”


Months. Without tasting his mouth, feeling him around my cock or inside me. I knew not what frightened me most. That I could see so far ahead with him, or the idea of going without this elegant savage. Slowly, I about-faced. “What ill magic has your heathen blood granted you?”


Tone quite gentle, he responded, “Naught more than the affinity between two very mutually attracted people.”


I checked to make certain the portal fast, then stripped myself back to the skin. Getting into bed with him, I felt as if I returned home. It terrified me for its suddenness. And, I knew naught of such matters between lovers. “Who shall fuck whom?” I teased, finding comfort in humor.


He wrapped me in his long arms. “Shall we each slick ourselves and fight for dominance?”


The suggestion sent a harsh bolt of lust through me. I groaned, “Sil vous plait.”


#


I awoke in the small hours needing a piss. I visited the chamber pot behind the screen, then returned to bed. My lover lay upon his stomach, arms folded beneath his cheek, one leg bent and scooted high. His lovely muscular ass lie presented like an offering. The tight, dark curves begged my touch. I caressed it as I lay down beside him. He sighed in his sleep and something in my chest twisted. Undone by emotion, I scooted to press my front to his back, mostly atop him, and enveloped him in a protective, possessive embrace.


#


I boarded the Cleopatra with a heavy heart. Mon Dieu. I had become enslaved. The occasion of setting sail had always energized and excited me. Yet only could I think of my savage.


The errand we attended involved a British ally of the officer James intended to humiliate then kill. We used my two ships and the Blood Vengeance to corral the man-of-war. I decided not to stand back and give orders. “Cast grappling hooks!” I waited until the impact of hull-to-hull contact shivered the deck under my booted feet, then I drew my blade and hopped up onto the rail. Leaping over, I rammed my sword down through a man.


I fought my way through many men, focusing my attention on the mortal task. After a while. I heard the men at my back cheer. Glancing around, I saw my crew standing over the fallen. A swipe of hot pain drew my attention to my right thigh. Looking down, I saw a long blade wound gaping through my split breeches.


The Blood Vengeance rocked up against the vanquished ship. My body began to register the injury and blood loss. I walked to the rail of the defeated vessel. The setting sun dimmed a bit.


“Give me your arm, Frenchman.”


Walks Softly’s voice raced through me in a rush of pleasure. I let him place my arm around his neck and shoulders. Dizziness claiming me, I said, “I did not think we would associate for months.”


“You have given us an excuse.”


He helped me over to the Blood Vengeance, down to his berth. My lover placed me upon his narrow bunk, reached for his store of supplies and sprinkled some loathsome powder into my wounds.


“Merde!” I roared. His mouth met mine. Libidinous delight washed me. “Mon Dieu, what manner of heathen enjoys visiting such suffering?”


He nibbled my upper lip, then straightened. Resuming his attentions, he wrapped my thigh and leaned low to press his lips to mine. “Try to keep your person clear of enemy blades.”



CHAPTER FIVE


My savage cleaned my wound again and sewed the rent flesh together. His gentle touch and deftness with a needle awed me. I watched him, savoring his touch upon me even in this form. For best or worse, I would have his touch ever upon me in the form of the scar.


The demand for his skill at mending flesh robbed us of a night of stolen passion. I resented sharing him even with wounded men. Thus, I lay on the berth that smelled of his gloriously dark skin and fermented until I could take no more. Finally, I braved the burning of my wound and walked to where he worked on the deck of the Vengeance.


He scowled at me. “You will break the stitches.”


I leaned close. “If I cannot have you in pleasure, I shall at least aid you.” I recalled his kissing me to take my mind from the burning of that truly hellish powder. Thin-skinned with pain and my ungoverned emotions, I whispered. “It occurs you might employ the same trick of distraction with some young, easily led seaman.”


He worked by torchlight as our three ships drifted, tied in a cluster by lines. James had sent Mr. Levit to sail the captured vessel to the island of a man specializing in the purchase and resale of crafts acquired by less than lawful means. James tended wounded with a compassion I would not have expected.
His skill did not extend to some of the very complicated methods employed by his brother. All the same, he offered relief from pain in a concoction Walks Softly identified as rum and willow bark, stitched wounds and even wrote letters for those beyond saving. His solicitous manner prompted men to ask for help they might not have with a less available person.


My admiration for James and Walks Softly rose. I could do little more than dispense the brew for pain, offer ladles of water and fetch and carry. I felt the weight of James’ stare many times. I would return it briefly, then continue. My lover came to my side as I knelt to give a mortally injured man a drink. He took the sailor’s hand in his, spoke to him for a moment in his heathen language. The man closed his eyes, smiled and slipped into his eternal rest.


I stared at Walks Softly, frightened by the mystical power he held.


My lover turned pained black eyes to me. “No magic, Frenchman. The simple human kindness of assuring another soul it is all right to go.”


I chuckled inwardly at my own naivety. Standing, I watched him move on to another of the lingering fallen.


Of a terrible sudden, it struck me.


The man he spoke to could not have understood words spoken in that red man tongue.


I returned to my ship, managing to climb onto the rail and swing over using a rigging rope. I landed heavily and cursed aloud. Clearly the savage possessed some form of enchantment which held me. Best I avoid him.


Even as I made my way to quarters, I felt my body rebel at the idea. Merde. Further evidence of his sorcery. I shut the door, made use of the water provided by my cabin lad, and washed myself free of the blood and smoke. I rubbed on the fragranced musk cream I used. The hours candle anchored to a large plate on my desk told me the day had passed from one into the next.


Something inside me throbbed. My chest held a dull ache as I thought of ending my association with Walks Softly. Yet, I had become too bewitched. I should distance myself.


I pulled on a pair of breeches, laid out my weapons and snuffed the lamps candle. As I lay upon my bed, I heard a rapping at my door. Expecting the young fellow who acted as my cabin boy, I went and opened the portal.


Walks Softly pushed me backward, shut the door and I heard it latch. In the darkness, he reached for me. I retreated.


“I have but an hour’s half,” he said, deep voice seeming to swirl and fill my rooms.


“That man you spoke to,” I began, “he could not have known your words.”


“Have you and I not known perfect accord speaking two separate languages?”


I felt at the same time awash in understanding and threatened by my susceptibility. Knowing I should resist the lure of him, I grit out, “We should place some distance between us.”


His big body struck mine. He shoved me to the bed with unerring skill. From there, we ripped each others’ clothing off and our mouths met.


We both groaned and became less anxious. He gripped me. I clasped his large erection, used my free hand to hold his head to mine. The deliciousness of his mouth made me ruthless in my tongue’s exploration. I rubbed his cock, stroked and squeezed his big, heavy balls.

Breaking the kiss, I confessed, “I wish I could suck, fuck, fondle, lick and kiss you all in the same moment.”


“And I you.”


In the cocooning dimness we brought each other to peak as we kissed. The intense pleasure humbled me. I heard myself speaking to him, yet could not know what I said. We pressed close, our skin bearing the evidence of orgasm. For a few moments we kissed, murmured and held each other.


Walks Softly left the bed, relit the lamps, then went seeking a cloth to dampen in the secured pitcher. He washed himself, rinsed and soaped the cloth, rinsed it again before returning to wash the semen from me. He tended my chest and belly, subsiding erection and hand.


“Will you speak my name?” I asked.


Walks Softly returned the cloth to basin, walked naked and beautiful to me. He stretched out at my side, cupped my jaw in his big, capable hand. “Etienne. My Frenchman.”


He left me later and I mourned. I had never felt such loss in a lover’s absence. All the same, we needed to cut free and make sail. A second endeavor awaited.


#

We sailed from there to James’ private island. Mr. Levit would return with funds for our next endeavor. We had a specific hit to make in a fortnight.


As I stood on the deck of the Cleopatra, I saw the harbor by a sliver of moonlight.


I could only think of having my savage for several days.


And, of my unbridled emotions toward him.



CHAPTER SIX


James invited his officers for a meal that night. Walks Softly and I had to attend, and sitting at the table I fought the urge to gaze at him.


Mr. Street commented on the quality of the beef and I stared down at my plate. I had not even known what I put in my mouth. The wine displeased me. I shunned the cheese course. Walks Softly excused himself and my entire being reacted, wishing to pursue.


After some time of having to force myself to remain seated, James said, “Captain De Moulins, you have graciously answered my invitation, but I see your wound pains you. The cottage you shall occupy is easy enough to find.” He held up his hand and a servant appeared with a wax-sealed envelope. James motioned for its deliverance to me. “Here is a simple map. Retire with my blessing.”


I accepted the missive, bowed and made my farewells. Outside the villa, I opened the parchment.


A path leads from the east lawn to a beach on a less populated area of the island. There you shall find what you seek. Remember, fiery death aloft or a ruined cock. JG


I smiled despite myself.


A stable lad hurried to saddle a horse for me. I could not control my elation as I swung astride and rode along said path. It proved a bit tricky mounted. I leaned low, careful of my weight on the horse’s shoulders. I saw a flickering flame as the jungle thinned, then observed a second.


As I emerged from the thick vegetation, I dismounted. Candles extended up the beach, approximately a fathom apart. I led my mount to the first. Bending down, I saw a single yellow hibiscus bloom beside it.


“Mon Dieu,” I murmured, picked up the flower and blew out the flame. My elegant savage had set his mind to seduce me.


I proceeded to the next, and the following, extinguishing the flames as I followed them to an oddly-shaped dwelling facing the beach. On the small porch, a sliver of firelight gleamed through the slightly open door. I removed the horse’s bridle, ran up the stirrups, slapped the animal’s rump to send it home, then placed the piece of tack on the steps. Ascending, bloom in my hand, I pushed the door wide.


My beautiful savage reclined on a veritable nest of furs and crisp-looking snowy linens. I locked the portal behind me and walked to him. A fire pit ventilated through a hole in the roof offered flickering illumination. The place smelled of drying herbs and his flesh. Dropping the hibiscus on his dark smooth chest, I said, “The color looks beautiful next to your skin.”


“I want you next to my skin.” His deep voice lowered to that intimate hush caused gooseflesh to erupt over me despite the warmth of the night. Walks Softly moved the bloom from him. “Undress for me.”


I disarmed and removed my clothes. It became a mesmerizing act of eroticism rather than the mundane. With his hot, glittering onyx eyes on me, my hands shook. I removed the last, and my erection gave away my state. I knew no shame in desiring him so completely. Going to my knees, I leaned down, slid my very hungry hands into his luxurious hair. My heart kicked within my chest and my breath soughed from me as I brought my lips to his. He cradled my face, rumbling low in his wide chest.


His tongue mated with mine, gentle and lingering, and I felt shattered. So many emotions swept me. I longed to devour him alive and protect him from myself at once.


Turning his face from me, I learned the fierce arch of his cheekbone with my mouth, tasted the velvety lobe of his ear, catching it between my teeth, then dabbing my tongue along the rim. He shuddered, big hands roaming over my arms and shoulders.


I explored his throat with my fingers and lips. As he arched his neck to better give me access, the cords and muscles stood out in bold relief. The incredible perfection humbled me. I pressed my face to his chest.


Without ego, I declared, “I understand. You were justified in striking that first night, mon bon sauvage.”


He rolled us over, gazing down at me with his liquid silk hair curtaining off the world around us, he whispered, “Now you are my lover, Etienne. You need only ask and I shall give.”


I nearly wept. Never in my life had I endured such surrender to another. I wished his soul joined with mine same as our bodies would. “Love me.”


Walks Softly rubbed his mouth, hands and hair over my body until I begged he fill me. “I must lie upon my back,” I stipulated. “I want to hold you and kiss you.”


He used his slickened fingers to gently open me as we kissed and touched each other.


I gazed at him. Enflamed, I confessed, “I adore you inside me.”



He replied, all pleasure and affection. “Again, and I you.” Then, his handsome lips lifted at the corners. “And I do adore this.” He licked my lower lip and pressed his fingers hard into me.


“Mon Dieu,” I groaned. “No more,” I said, “I wish your cock inside me.”


He oiled his big erection, rose to wash his hands, then returned to me. I held out my arms, more greedy than I had ever been. He moved between my open thighs, gently placed the broad crest of his cock to the threshold of me. His torso he kept braced above me on stiffened elbows. That long hair swept forward, isolating us.


His palms flattened on either side of my ribcage, inside my arms. He spoke. “I see in your eyes this night what I wished the first time we joined.”


He pushed into my very welcoming body. I pulled him to me for a kiss. We held each other tight, his erection pleasuring me almost beyond bearing, my phallus in his hand receiving stimulation that threatened my sanity.



CHAPTER SEVEN

I awoke to buttery sunlight and the angry throbbing of the wound on my thigh. Last night I had not given it a thought. This morning, I shifted amid the furs and linens, wincing. Glancing about the simple, very wonderful dwelling, I realized myself alone. The scent of our lovemaking haunted the air, much diluted by the ocean breeze. Wondering where my lover had gotten to, I struggled to rise.


Behind a screen, I made my morning ablutions, cleaning my teeth with a paste flavored pleasantly by mint and a bit of lemon.


This place made me feel as though I had found a way to crawl inside Walks Softly. A practical table beside the fire pit hosted dark bread wrapped in a white cloth and a bowl of various citrus fruits and vegetables. Every work space, rack of herbs, shelf of powders and salves echoed him. As did the considerable store of weapons. Items of healing dwelt alongside implements of killing. Each waited for use, clean, well-maintained and organized. With his extensive knowledge of the body, little wonder he proved so effective in dealing death.


I heard a horse approach. Going to drag on my breeches, I then stepped outside. My indian swung down from the back of a tall, long-legged horse with white coat spotted in black. It appeared as if someone had flung ink at the handsome, if oddly-colored animal.


“Bonjour,” I greeted, awed by the sight of him in the sunshine. Dressed in high black boots, tan breeches and a simple white shirt, he embodied masculine beauty.


He held a leather valise in one hand, holding it out to me, he replied, “Good morrow to you, as well. I brought clothes and your personal items from your ship.”


I took the bag from him, capturing his hand with my other. Pulling him to me, I then dropped the bag and caught his face and kissed him. His arms encircled me at once, his lips parting under mine. What an amazing freedom to stand out in the sunshine, sharing a forbidden embrace.


Walks Softly broke the kiss, drawing back from me. “I have to put my horse in the corral. Take your things inside. When I finish, I shall feed you.”


I retrieved the valise and watched him lead the horse away. Ogling his wide shoulders and appetizing backside, I called. “El Pantera rides the mighty Venganza. What name has the mount who bears Walks Softly?”


He tossed a boyish smile over his shoulder. “Sweet William.”


I chuckled and walked into the house. I washed, used a bit of the scented cream and dressed in fresh clothes. Many had funned about my using cream. However, without intervention my trade callused hands and dried skin. I preferred to take better care of myself. The toughening of my hands I did not mind. Rough, untended flesh I did.


Walks Softly entered. I realized he left the door open to let the breeze and sound of the sea rush in to us. Emerging from behind the screen, I caught his gaze and smiled. “What shall you feed me?”


“First we clean your wound.”


I laid down where we had mated. He made swift work of cleaning, checking stitches and examining the area. Dropping a light kiss on my belly, he stood and offered me a hand. Accepting, I allowed him to help me up.


My indian walked to the smoldering fire pit, took an iron poker from a neat rack of hearth tools and stirred the embers to sparking life. From the tender box, he withdrew a handful, dropped it atop the now glowing coals, and then placed several small pieces of wood onto the mound. “You will see.”


“May I assist?” I knew little of cooking. All the same, to luxuriate in this haven, I would learn much.


He adjusted the fire, came to kiss my cheek. I quickly reached to touch his loose hair. “I will return in a few moments. You have an affinity for my hair, Frenchman.” He flashed that white smile at me. It changed his harsh handsomeness to such a boyish beauty my gut ached.


“Oui,” I confessed.


I busied myself missing him until he returned from his mysterious errand. He arrived with a basket of several crabs. My indian gifted me with that smile again. “I will make you something delicious.”


He boiled the crabs and made a cornmeal mix. Leaving the batter in a bowl on his work counter, he placed two iron skillets upon the edge of the fire pit’s weltering coal s. To both he added butter from a trunk rigged as an ice safe. I watched him then chop a red sweet pepper, add it to the cornmeal mixture, then remove the crabs from the pot and place them upon several drying clothes. He gave them a few minutes to cool, and after that quickly cracked and shred them, reducing them to two piles, one of fragrant meat and one of shell. The flesh he stirred into the cornmeal.


He poured the cornmeal mix into one pan. Unwrapping the bread, he sliced it and placed it in the other pan. Walks Softly put an iron kettle of water on to boil. He turned to me.


“Frenchman, we have a quarter hour.”


I dragged him to the nest of furs, hauling off his boots, peeling the clothes from his dark, warm body. I gripped his big erection and welcomed it into my mouth.


Loving it, I pleasured him with my mouth, handled his ballocks with a bit of roughness. My indian cursed and thrashed. I sucked him deep, lifted my head, bit his cock, then let him slide back down my throat.


“Etienne,” he growled, thrusting.


I touched him everywhere I could reach and shivered as he climaxed.


Afterward, I moved up and over him. He pulled me to kiss him. After I had tangled my tongue with his, I asked, “Was that the ration intended to break my fast?”


He laughed. “Frenchman, when I finish with you this day, you will have no questions about what you have received.”



CHAPTER EIGHT


When I bit into the first chunk of the crabmeat-filled cornbread, I sighed in absolute bliss. I kissed him in appreciation before having another bite.


“I usually pour them individually,” he said, smiling a little as he confessed, “but this morning I wished a while without having to tend the flipping.”


His admission made me chuckle. I reached for a cup of the tea he had poured over ice. Never had I tried it in this manner and I found I favored it. After we had eaten much of the cornbread, he removed the dark, sliced bread he had toasted in butter, spread it with a thin layer of lemon curd and I consumed the treat with zeal.


Licking my fingers, I jested, “Would you think less of me if I swooned.”


He slid his hand under my loose hair and pulled me toward him until our foreheads touched. “My beautiful Frenchman, you already did.”


“Mon Dieu, you shall pay for that later.”


After we ate and I helped him clear the meal, he bid me tuck clean clothes in the bag he busily packed full of bath articles. He then shouldered the parcel’s strap. Holding out his hand, he bid, “Come with me.”


I put the bridle on his unique horse when he led me to the small, neat corral. The animal cooperated and even sniffed me over in equine investigation. Walks Softly swung up onto his mount’s high back with near unnatural grace. Holding out his arm to me, he said, “Trust me.”


I clasped tightly with him and attempted to mimic his technique. To my surprise, the maneuver almost accomplished itself. I settled behind him, adjusting to the direct contact with the horse.


I enjoyed the scenery as we rode higher on the island. From somewhere above came the sound of water. The trees thickened. Walks Softly guided the horse in a weaving pattern, as much to diffuse the burden of our weight on an incline as to avoid low limbs. I slipped my hands under his shirt to feel his warm skin, and memorized every aspect of this moment.


Very soon we arrived at a falls. A large, crystal clear body of water lie below a tumbling cascade. I dismounted, then took the bag from my lover and offered him a hand down. He swung his off leg over the horse’s neck and landed lightly upon the ground. He tied Sweet William. I carried the bag to the edge of the water, then lowered it to a flat rock. Walks Softly unpacked everything, placing it within reach at a place where the water might only reach mid-thigh.


I shucked my breeches and waded in immediately. Swimming out in the temperate water, I turned to see my lover. He did not stand at the shore. I treaded water, glancing about. Movement drew my notice. I gazed up at the peak of the falls and saw mon bon sauvage. He ran to the cliff edge and dove over the fall. My breath arrested in my chest as he seemed to fall for ages, flat, arms outstretched like a dark eagle, then he bent mid-air and cleaved the water with hardly a splash.


I swam out to where he should have broken the surface. Ducking my head under, I saw my lover swimming with much leisure along the rocky bottom. I swam back to the side where our bath items waited. I picked up a washing cloth, lathered it with my bar of musk-scented soap, then began to wash myself. Walks Softly soon arrived. He waded close, swiping water from his face.


“You begin without me, Frenchman.”


“I shall get to you.”


“You already have.”


I knew not if he meant my having given him a climax before breakfast, or intended some deeper meaning. All the same, my heart performed some acrobatic in my chest. He took the cloth from my hand and very thoroughly attended me. By such time as he reached my cock, any illusion of platonic contact had become extinct. He rinsed the cloth, placed it back upon the rock and then knelt in the water.


I thought of his knees upon the rocks, and despite my powerful desire to have his mouth on me, I caught his shoulders. “Nay, mon bon sauvage.”


He murmured, “I shall worry about me.”


Realizing he must have understood, I then abandoned myself to him. My lover used his tongue until my legs shook and I swore loudly. Then he took me into his mouth. “Mon Dieu.” In only a few moments I peaked. The feel of his mouth drawing upon me, lavishing attention, made my knees threaten to buckle.


Afterward, I returned the favor of washing him. Then we swam a while longer, stretched out on a warm large, flat rock and dried ourselves in the sun. I woke from a doze, luxuriating in the warmth and idleness.


Walks Softly lie on his back, head turned toward me, his black eyes intense. Behind their dark, glittering beauty I saw his soul.


#


That evening, my lover brought out a bottle of very old French brandy, poured some into a single snifter. He handed it to me, then urged me to settle myself among the furs and linens.


I sipped it, held it up to him when he walked over to share the libation. Walks Softly cooked fresh shrimp in beer, made rice with black beans and then served me some exotic fruit with cream.


Savoring every bite, I offered, “Let me help you wash the dirty crockery.”


Walks Softly replied, “Nay. Relax.”


After he completed his tasks, he walked to me. Gooseflesh spread over my skin watching him. My lover removed my clothes and his, pressed his adoring mouth all over me, then oiled my rampant erection, washed his hands and returned to me.


“I want you in me, Etienne.”


I urged him onto his belly, bunched the furs under his slim hips, and gently entered him. Walks Softly lifted his bottom to accept more of me. “Mon bon sauvage.”


His voice held a very primitive roughness. “Now, you may fuck me.”


I drove him forward with each thrust. He cried out and opened to me completely. I clung to him. He caught one of my hands and held it. Loving his body around me, I groaned, “I want to give you pleasure.”


“Take my cock in your hand.”


I used my free hand to grip his erection. His growl sent a thrill through me. I handled his phallus as I would my own, drove into him, and loved every heartbeat of our lovemaking.



CHAPTER NINE


For two days we ate, swam, went riding, played chess, made love and slept in each others’ arms. For all my seemingly endless desire, I knew a peace like never before. James rode out to us on the third morning. He politely declined to breakfast with us. I could tell he did so out of respect for our time alone. It raised my estimation of him yet further.


Remaining astride the powerful dapple gray stallion, he said, “The carpenters have repaired the Vengeance. They await your supervision for the Cleopatra and Nefrititi.”


We stood out on the sand, Walks Softly’s hand placed at the base of my back. I replied, “My gratitude, captain. I shall see to it this day.”


Walks Softly left me to approach his brother. Speaking in his heathen language, he placed his big, beautiful hand upon his brother’s muscular thigh. To my surprise, the very menacing El Pantera took it within his own and returned a string of the foreign tongue. The brief, clearly emotional exchange caused a knot of emotion to form in my throat. They loved each other, beyond race, blood and beliefs. My own family could but aspire to such nobility and devotion.


James then withdrew his touch, nodded curtly to me and wheeled the big horse away. I watched him ride back up the beach, and went to slip my arm around my lover’s slim waist. “Is aught amiss?”


He glanced askance at me. “My white brother suspects you will hurt me. He seeks to act as the voice of reason.”


“This from a man devoting his life to pillage and battle in the name of revenge.”


Walks Softly gave a short low bark of mirth. “I shall never lament the concern born of my brother’s love.”


#


My indian taught me to make tea as he did. We consumed eggs baked with many spices, cream and cheese, bathed at the falls, then adjourned at the call of duty. He had some errand to attend. I had to oversee repairs to my ships.


The day stretched. Many changes to rigging occurred. A spar that had seemed sound, proved riddled beyond trusting with shot. Sails wanted mending. I toiled shirtless in the sun, observing the island’s fashion. In the late aft of noon, I washed my torso, completed payment arrangements and found myself free to take leave.


I donned the boots and shirt I had shed earlier and rowed myself to the dock. A worker there caught the line I tossed and I went ashore. Somewhat regretting my loose hair in the tropical heat, I walked across the common and took the shell road east. At one of the last small dwellings at the fringe of town, my lover stepped out of a door. Elation swept me. Then a tall, very handsome dark young man followed, pulling Walks Softly into his arms for a lingering embrace.


Jealous wrath scorched me.


My clearly unsatisfied lover kissed the man’s cheek then departed. That handsome fellow would meet my blade later. First, I would confront my indian. I followed him home, riven with aggression and fury. He left the front door of his dwelling open. I entered and slammed it, turning the lock.


Walks Softly spun around. “I like not the look in your eyes, Frenchman.”


Closing the distance between us, I shot back, “I like not your fucking another.”


He responded, “Your meaning escapes me.”


I put my face close to his, feeling my hands flex in their longing for violence. “I saw you leave your very handsome young lover, indian.” My heart seemed ripped and bleeding. “Am I not enough for you? Do I not satisfy you?”


His entire manner changed. That glacial chill turned his jet eyes to black ice, his voice to a cold stone. “Think carefully. Much depends upon it.”


Somewhere in me, a little voice spoke, asking questions. What had I actually seen? Did I believe him so inclined to intrigue and promiscuity?


Of a sudden I knew. He possessed too much honor and self-possession to do what I accused him of, and I had insulted both him and our relationship with the accusation. The lightening strike of guilt humbled me completely. I dropped to my knees.


“Forgive me, mon bon sauvage.” I could offer no justification. “Forgive me.”


I waited for his judgment, knowing my Fate in his hands. He might banish me. The notion caused panic.


Walks Softly knelt, capturing my face in his hands. He urged me to look at him. The chill had thawed. I saw the lover I had enjoyed. “I realize your experience has not prepared you. Nonetheless, I have taken you as my lover. Such fears need never concern you."


My heart performed a painful flip in my chest. Grateful beyond belief, I responded, “You have changed everything for me.”


He kissed me and I rejoiced.


#


That night, after my lover fed me a feast of seared beef steak and lobster, I lolled upon our nest, sipping brandy. I watched him complete his domestic chores, mesmerized by the grace of it. When he arrived to join me, my heartbeat tripped. He slid the snifter from my grasp, brought it to his sculpted lips.


As he came down to join me, I helped him shed his clothing. He returned the favor. We passed the brandy back and forth. Very soon, I felt the effects. Walks Softly set the vessel aside, fetched a vial of sweet oil and lovingly rubbed the slickness into my hardening penis. I gasped and growled. Walks Softly reclined upon his back, tucking a cover under his backside. I licked and sucked his rampant cock, savoring the flavor of him. Then, I eased inside him.


We clutched each other as we mated. I grasped his cock, pulling him in rhythm to my thrusts. I gazed into his black eyes, suffering a bolt of connection with my lover. It caused an ache in my chest.


Pressing deep, I ceased moving. I did not know what to say. Yet, I longed to speak. Beyond reasonable thought, I hugged him tighter. “Mon bon sauvage.”


“My Etienne.” He held me tighter.


The exchange germinated a passionate surge in our lovemaking.


#


Late in the dark watches, I roused. An hours candle burned some space away from our nest. I gazed at Walks Softly as he slept. His beauty compelled me. I felt something for him that defied description.


I held him closer and savored his body.