Part 2
Sometime later, the two youths and the horse arrived at another clearing, which Geoffrey had scouted earlier so as to keep his sacrilegious mission away from prying eyes. The giant warrior had commented as well upon the smallness of the horse, so different from the shaggy-hoofed, muscular ponies of his own age. It seemed everything had degenerated and debilitated since his own time, and yet, Geoffrey knew, the resurrected warrior still did not know what had occurred to him. He soon would have to let the pagan savage know the truth.
The knight-to-be gathered a pile of tinder and made a fire, and soon the blaze roared to life. It seemed to calm the warrior's demeanor. He took a deep breath and unfastened his cloak, draping it on the ground. He then sat upon it and stretched, his long bones cracking as if they had been in lethargy for far too long. His big feet flexed and stretched toward the fire, the toes digging into the dirt. The glowing green eyes gazed upon the smaller youth, silently communicating to him that he, too, should sit upon the cloak. Geoffrey reluctantly sat beside him, again inhaling the primal musk, their bodies almost touching.
Cuthlain reached out with his long, surprisingly delicate fingers and stroked the leather of Geoffrey's boots. "Why do you wear these upon your feet, comrade?" he queried innocently.
The smaller youth sighed: "All warriors now wear such boots, to keep our feet sturdy and safe as we travel and do battle."
Cuthlain's gentle green eyes seemed amused as they reflected the orange flames before them. "A true warrior keeps his body in eternal contact with the earth mother, his muscles bared before the gods and spirits who have given him his strength," he proclaimed proudly, again thumping his broad chest as if announcing an obvious truth. "And so we stay bare from head to feet, letting the elemental spirits do their work of growing us large and strong to travel the forest in ease."
As if to make his point, Cuthlain removed the boots from his descendant's feet, revealing their pallor. He placed the boy's feet upon his own. Geoffrey's eyes widened upon seeing the savage's broad, muscular feet were nearly twice the size of his own. But he was more concerned by the throbbing of his manhood, now straining the stitching of his hide pants upon feeling his feet pressed up against the warm, comforting flesh of his ancestor's tanned limbs. Desire was overcoming his caution, and the lustful youth whispered, "May I touch them?" his blue eyes gazing upon the tattooed feet. Cuthlain smiled and nodded, and the smaller youth grazed his hand along the rough, sandpapery surface of the soles, feeling the hard muscle that wrapped around the necessarily more delicate bones. Cuthlain's long toes idly, playfully flexed around Geoffrey's exploring fingers. A shudder of pleasure passed through them both. Geoffrey was only barely aware he was passing a point of no return. His hand hesitated as he traced along the dark tendrils of the tattoo meandering around the ankle, as he wondered if he should feel up the bulging calf muscle above. He again trembled.
"Have you never been with another youth?" Cuthlain asked gently.
Geoffrey's lip curled in disgust, his mind brought back to earth by the question. He yanked back his hand, his mind suddenly filled with shame over his desires. "Of course not! I am a dedicated Christian!"
Cuthlain again looked confused. "Yes, I understood that. So you only have pleasures with women?"
Geoffrey's face turned red with further shame. "Of course not. I am in training to be a knight, dedicated to virtue. A knight cannot know a woman until he marries."
The cat-like green eyes looked further confused. "I do not understand this, young comrade. You have not had communion of the flesh? Warriors of my tribe are expected to marry women as well, but until then we take pleasure with each other, strengthening our bonds with each other, pledging each other our eternal love. Is not love what the Christians preach?"
Geoffrey sighed, knowing he was in over his head trying to explain concepts of Christian virtue to an evil pagan, but nevertheless he stammered, "Love of the spirit, Cuthlain, not carnal lust. That is quite evil. The Bible teaches it so."
Cuthlain looked very sad, his face scrunching up in further confusion as he tried to interpret these strange values. "What is Bible? Ah, yes, I remember now from the missionaries, the holy sagas of Jesus and his ancestors. Perhaps this is why they did not like our kind, but this life of yours seems very hindered, Geoffrey, your body stunted in its growth contained in these strange garments, these ideas of yours keeping you from expressing the natural desires given us by gods of earth and sky. It cannot be right." His green eyes seemed watery. Could this giant of a warrior be close to tears? "How did I come to be in this place?" Cuthlain at last came to the point.
Geoffrey carefully explained how he had used the ancient ritual to resurrect him from the dead, and that at least four centuries had passed since he last had walked upon the earth. Cuthlain's cute mouth hung open in shock, the sharp canines now very visible. He must have had a fairly rough diet to have acquired such an animalistic grin. "You are a wizard, young comrade? I am sorry, I should have accorded you more respect." Geoffrey was again taken aback by Cuthlain's strange logic. "I am grateful to you for giving me back my life, though I see the world has come to this poor state," Cuthlain sorrowed. He remained quiet for some moments, his vacant eyes again lost in thought, the blonde locks again draping his face. Geoffrey's own eyes wandered to that thick braid hanging down onto his lap, and he thought he would like to feel up the braid just as he had his feet, as well as the rest of his wonderfully powerful warrior's frame. Somehow, perhaps through the magic of the ritual, he knew that Cuthlain had died several years older, and that for some occult reason he had returned to the living at the same age as Goeffrey. Perhaps this is why he had no memory of his own death, nor of the wife and children he must have had before death, only the sinful carnal experiences with his fellow warriors.
Cuthlain glanced at Geoffrey once more, as if reading his own thoughts. "You truly have eighteen summers?" The smaller youth nodded. Cuthlain sighed. "As do I. I still do not believeÉ Among our tribe a boy of twelve, not yet in training, is taller and bigger." His eyes fastened upon Geoffrey's neck, and he again reached out to feel the silver cross chained about his throat. "I, too, had a Christian cross, though it had our own tribal designs along its arms," Cuthlain mused. "I would wear it often, for I believed your Jesus was very wise to prophesy the victory of love, and even in my time the kings of the west and south had sworn allegiance to the Church in Rome."
"Really?" gasped a stunned Geoffrey. He gazed upon the animal-tooth necklace starkly evident around the savage's thick neck, and he couldn't believe it ever had worn a holy cross.
"Perhaps my tribesmen put it among my other jewels in the barrow," mused the warrior, perhaps accepting that he had been dead and removed from memory for ages. He sighed, the muscular chest heaving. Geoffrey noticed the heat of the fire had caused trickles of sweat to begin trailing down the middle of his pectorals. He noticed the bulky warrior was nearly totally hairless, only the barest fuzz of blonde trailing from his navel into his loincloth. His cheeks, like Geoffrey's, were totally smooth and appeared soft, despite the hard angles and the war paint. He truly was only a boy of eighteen.
"Very well," Cuthlain stated abruptly. "I will do what you wanted of me, and teach you the warrior's way, though I don't see how it will help you, hindered as you are by your ideas of virtue."
Geoffrey realized the truth of this, and he capitulated. "Oh, forgive me, great ancestor, I have offended you, and I only wanted to learn. I promise you I will do as you instructÉIÉI will do as much as I canÉ" He hesitated, intuiting that the pagan might force him into all sorts of idolatry.
But Cuthlain smiled. "Good, and you must look upon me as comrade, as friend, not venerated elder." He laughed. "We are friends, are we not?" said Cuthlain sultrily as he took the smaller youth's hand and gently placed it back upon his powerful calf. Geoffrey moaned. He was beyond hope; he had to give in or go mad.
The lad shyly traced his way up the leg, feeling the steel hard muscle just under thin, tanned skin. Beyond the knee, up the swell of the thigh, hesitating at the loincloth. Cuthlain cooperated, unfastening the silver belt and pulling the fur garment off the tight, slightly rounded buttocks. Geoffrey gasped as the long, swelling manhood poked out of the loincloth, slapping noisily against the taut lower stomach and trailing glistening fluid across the navel and corrugated abdominals.
Both boys were breathing rapidly now, but Cuthlain still showed tenderness as he pulled the trembling youth toward him, hugging him with powerful arms as he stretched the long legs out on either side of the boy. Geoffrey felt surrounded by warmth and yes, love, as he surrendered himself to the embrace, settling against his taller ancestor's bare torso, his own buttocks pressed against the insistently throbbing member squeezed between himself and the other boy's stomach.
Geoffrey continued to feel the hardness he rested against, the ridges of his stomach, the swell of his damp pectorals, even the sharp edges of that tooth necklace. He went further and kissed the warm flesh, licking along his nipples, eliciting a deep moan from Cuthlain. The warrior could take it no longer and pulled the other youth's fine-boned face up toward him, kissing him with fierce, pagan passion. Geoffrey succumbed and felt himself melting against the savage's thrusts. Cuthlain whispered huskily in his ear: "It has been so long for me. And you have not known another's touch. I can let you know what it truly feels like." Geoffrey merely moaned in reply, as Cuthlain felt up the boy's own throbbing member, poking determinedly out of his pantaloons. Both boys tugged at those trousers, allowing the smaller, thinner manhood to slap up against the pale, softer flesh of his stomach. Cuthlain wrapped a large, strong hand around it, producing a surge of nectar from the young shaft, wetting his ringed fingers.
And then the taller warrior again did the unexpected as he slowly flipped over, exposing the rippled mounds of his muscular and yet compact buttocks, guiding Geoffrey's leaking member toward the cleavage. Geoffrey gasped. He had been sure he was the one to be ravished, and yet the other boy knew exactly what his acolyte desired, what he needed, to assert his own manhood. "Use your fluid to ease in your member," Cuthlain patiently explained even as he panted in lust. "It will come naturally to youÉI can tell by your hardness that you are readyÉ"
But Geoffrey knew he could get harder still, and what he needed was on either side of him, kneading into his buttocks with leathery soles. Geoffrey pulled the legs up toward him, bending the tall warrior at the knee, and brought each large foot toward his mouth, tonguing the firm muscle, licking along the flexing toes. This triggered Cuthlain as well, as he moaned deeply and ground his manhood into his own cloak, pounding the ground with his savage fists.
After a few minutes of this worship, Geoffrey felt the rock-hard member might explode, and he swiped a hand against its sensitivity, ensuring it was coated in sweet dew, before plunging into the waiting hole. At last, nature could take over, and he thrust like an animal, feeling the tight warmth of another's insides caress him, tightening against him until he felt he couldn't hold back any longer. No, Geoffrey now knew, this wasn't just lust, it wasn't evil, it was love made complete; even if he had known the youth not even half a night, he felt their spirits bond and latch on to each other with a desire that transcended worlds, teetering back and forth between the pleasurably carnal and the higher love that lived beyond death. The boys moaned in tandem in high, teenage voices, Geoffrey pressing his face and undone, shoulder-length blonde hair against the sweaty back of his teacher and his thick, white-golden braid. At last, both boys came, Geoffrey deep into Cuthlain, the warrior into his cloak, some dripping onto the face of the earth mother. Geoffrey passed out onto the cloak, as Cuthlain cuddled up against him, their burning faces lightly touching each other. "You are indeed my bloodÉmy seedÉ" said Cuthlain, not intending a pun but said with all seriousness. They had bonded, the first step, and Geoffrey drifted into the land of dreamsÉ
When he awoke, it was morning, and the dark forest again was green against blue sky, friendly in all aspects as butterflies floated above and sparrows swooped among the trees. Naked Geoffrey stretched out on the cloak, his bones cracking; he felt different, energized, and he gazed upon the bare curves of the giant still sleeping beside him, his bare toes still clinging to the earth in spiritual caress. His sleeping face, devoid of tension, indeed looked beautiful even in stark sunlight, more like that of a boy of 14 or 15, with silky locks tracing down the rosy cheeks, the closed eyes still outlined in black war paint. The plump, pale red lips parted slightly as he slept, those dangerous looking canines glimmering. Geoffrey carefully touched the rings in his small nose and the jewel piercing his thin eyebrow. Despite every attempt to look the intimidating warrior, with primed muscles, tattoos, piercings and paint, beneath the surface was the tenderest, most loving of teenage boys, he now knew.
But something appeared curious at the periphery of his vision, and now Geoffrey gazed down his own legs to where his bare feet were casually rubbing against Cuthlain's. Last night they had appeared almost half the size of the warrior's godly feet, and yet this morning they looked more like three-fourths of the size, sturdier and more muscular too, even the toes somewhat longer. It had to be a trick of the light, but Geoffrey jumped to his feet, and he could tell his balance was off. He no longer felt stocky and compact but somehow stretched out. He gazed upon limbs that were still narrow and lithe but definitely longer, and the ridges of shallow abdominals cut through his once flat, soft stomach. Now his stomach felt hard beneath two rounded plates just poking out of his chest, creating severe definition. And the sweaty ringlets of his hair, which had fallen to his shoulders, now ended around his shoulder blades. This could not be an illusion, for even on his bulkier biceps he saw tracing similar tribal tattoos, and some along the bulging calf ending along the side of his feet, just like Cuthlain's. Even the once pale flesh seemed rosier, far from tanned but clearly more suited to an outdoor life. Geoffrey smiled. Yes, it was happening to him: The warrior spirit was beginning to infuse himÉ