04

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I felt like chapter three was a little too short by itself, so I decided to release three and four together.

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Chapter 3

Fleeting Strength

[Bjarke]

"Hey, how old are you?" Derrick's first words of the day.

"Thirty-six." I answered.

Since having been very open about himself a few days ago Derrick and I had been steadily growing closer. I wouldn't say we were quite friends ... more like we were on friendly terms. I got into the habit of having breakfast with him which is what we were currently doing.

Personal questions had slowly become a staple of our time together. Derrick would be living with me for a while, so it made sense to familiarize ourselves with each other. Yesterday--while changing the bandages on his hand--I inquired about his age and learned that he's twenty-seven. Makes sense that he'd also want to know the same about me.

"Here, let me take these." I grabbed our plates and took them to the sink.

While scrubbing our dishes I heard some pained grunts. Derrick, up on his two feet, was stretching and moving around. Panic set in and I dropped the plate I was in the process of cleaning. Thankfully it didn't break.

"Yeah no," I walked over to Derrick, worry in my voice. "You really shouldn't be moving this much. The less you have to get up the better."

I ushered him to lie back down, but he refused. "I'm fine," The pained winces said otherwise. "Let me tell you ... if I have to spend one more day just lounging around, my moods gonna sour right quick."

After failing to counsel Derrick I submerged my hands back into the sink water.

While I did the dishes, Derrick walked about, slinking from one corner of the cabin to another. No part of him told me he was being nosy. The guy was just simply walking from one end of the room to the other. Over and over. Probably getting a feel for his limitations.

"You got anything fun to do around here?" Hopefulness in his voice.

"If you're talking about electronics, then no. I left all that stuff behind me," Derrick suddenly looked bummed out. "However, I do have a little reading nook underneath the stairs."

In a flash he vanished into the nook. I heard him sit down into the wicker chair that I kept back there via the chair's reliable squeak.

While putting away the dishes, whispers began emanating from under the stairs. I homed in on the sound, realizing that Derrick was reading out loud to himself.

"-And fire stained the land. Children screamed for their mothers as knights failed to fend off the invasion, leaving nothing but ruins in Akela's wake." His voice was engaged, his tone fitting the grim words.

Going by what I heard, he was reading the opening to 'Earth's Sky: Embers Flamed'. The book was pretty good but had a very dark opening. I was surprised that, out of all the other options, he picked that book. It had the most unassuming cover.

By midday I had refilled the sink's water jugs, shoveled, and washed some cloths. I was about to wash the blankets when I remembered that my fox-fur was still wrapped around Derrick.

"I'm washing blankets." I said, peeking into the nook.

Returned to me was a blank stare. "Do you also want the one I'm currently covered with?"

"...Yes."

A smirk appeared across his lips. "It's all yours. Take it."

He pulled the blanket free, handing it off. Underneath was his naked figure. I don't know why I kept forgetting that.

"Let me get you something to cover yourself with." I said, while trying to hide the blush on my cheeks.

Upstairs was my wardrobe. There wasn't much that I thought would fit him, but he'd have to make do. I handed over a pair of basic jeans, an oversized--for him--black shirt, and thick ankle socks. He stood up, junk flopping around freely, and took the offered cloths. First was the shirt, then the socks, but he stopped at the pants. "Underwear?" He asked.

I rushed to one of the rooms in the back and came out with the pair he was wearing when I found him. Besides his boots and socks, it was the only thing not damaged. Everything else had tears or rips in them, and I had not gotten around to repairing those yet.

"Here. Don't worry, they're wash-" Stunned, I had to blink to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me. Derrick was once again naked. "Uh ... Why,"-I swallowed hard-"Why did you remove your clothes?"

"Because I reek!" He sniffed at his armpit. "You have a shower around here I can use?"

I told him about the one in the shed, and this crazy guy headed straight for the front door--fully intending to go outside butt naked! I hollered at him, directing his attention at his boots which were on a shoe matt next to the door. There was no reason to try and dissuade him; after all, he did need a shower.

How Derrick walked into the cold air, naked, without as much as a twitch, baffled me. We followed the shoveled path side by side--my hand around his arm the entire way. It was slippery out and a nasty fall was not something he could afford.

The shed, despite being insulated, was not an escape from the cold ... only protecting us from cruel wind. Derrick looked around, identifying the shower with a noticeable nod. Leaving behind his boots, he carefully stepped inside. "Do I just pull this?" He asked, pointing to a lever.

"Yes, but you might want to-" My attempt at warning him was ignored.

Water that I knew for a fact was freezing came down from above. Not the skin nor the body reacted, and nothing gave away any kind of discomfort. He just showered as if all was well ... as if he wasn't being chilled to the bone.

After informing him of the sand scrub he got right to work on his body. There was no steam, no fog--nothing to cloud the shower's glass door. Everything was laid bare before me and, regrettably, I found myself sneaking glances whenever I could. Watching him shower was simply mesmerizing.

If it wasn't for the pit in my stomach telling me to 'knock it off' I would have openly stared at him. He cleaned every inch of his form, careful to avoid tender spots. The shower wasn't long enough which left me feeling disappointed.

When he stepped out, I offered the towel I had brought along. Efficient strokes dried him off in record time, allowing me to apply a new set of bandages. If Derrick was at all feeling awkward or self-conscious then he wasn't showing it. The guy had a confidence about him that would intimidate most--me included.

My fingertips only occasionally grazed his supple skin while I reapplied the dressings. His breath low and controlled tethered me to sanity. Normally, seconds around him were all it took to leave clouds floating in my head; but focusing on the wrapping motions helped drown out the very sexual being in front of me. Heck, I wasn't even sure if he was a sexual being, or if I was the one sexualizing him.

These past few days I did my very best to deny what it was I was feeling. Admitting that I was attracted to the guy right in front of me was something I could not afford. All he did, all he made me feel--it provoked the man I used to be ... someone who I had locked away for good.

Or so I thought.

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Chapter 4

Conniving

[Derrick]

The dude was so easily flustered.

At first it was all accidental. Then it became harmless fun. Now it had turned serious--and the way Bjarke looked at me when I was doing anything even remotely erotic was proof enough.

I found it cute... too cute in fact for someone so grizzly looking. With a box jawline, wide shoulders, and height that surpassed mine, anyone would automatically assume they know exactly what kind of guy he is, and every one of them would be wrong. He's sweet, kind, and considerate. Hell, he doesn't even swear. A true goody two-shoe.

In the roughly four days that we've been getting to known each other I had come to the conclusion that this dude must be celibate or some shit. The way he looks at me ... I've seen plenty of men and women give me the same expression. Yet this guy hadn't even made a single move. Constantly he would give me looks filled with heavy-handed lust, and before it went anywhere, he would escape. Two days ago, when Bjarke was reapplying my bandages after having showered, I was certain that something was going to happen. But after finishing he handed back the cloths he'd lent me and waited outside while I changed.

In all honesty I'd be down to fuck if he asked, although I don't see that happening anytime soon. I can't tell if he's just fighting the urge, or if maybe he doesn't even find me attractive. Hell, maybe no one ever has. Maybe all these years I've just been blowing smoke up my ass. Could I really be that vein?

When night rolled around, I decided to do something bold. Seeing as I can walk around now there is no reason why I should still be sleeping on the floor.

"Hey, Bjarke, do you have a guest bed or something?" He was preoccupied so all he did to respond was shake his head. "Then do you think I could sleep in your bed? It's pretty big. More than enough room for us both."

The attention he was giving to the task in front of him was redirected at me. On his face was an adorably flustered look, like a deer in headlights. Slurring his words, he tried to come up with any excuse for why that wouldn't work, until growing silent.

"Should I take that as a yes?" I asked.

"...Sure."

We'd had a nice dinner, some good conversation--more than enough to fan the flames of sex. When we got up to the loft I disrobed completely and slid under the blankets. Bjarke had something on the tip of his tongue, only he didn't share it.

I wasn't surprised that he got in the bed clothed. What did manage to surprise me--and tick me off--was his insistence to stay as close to the edge of the bed as possible. He was so close that I could have tapped him, and he'd have fallen off. Absolutely ridiculous! If he really wanted to be so closed off then fine, I'd let him--but there wasn't a chance in hell of me doing the same.

Finger by finger I teased my limp prick. When it hardened my entire hand wrapped around its base, moving it side to side like an arcade joystick. To avoid being too obvious too fast I stroked myself slowly and carefully. Underneath the blanket was the warmth emitting from my lively actions. Light moans escaped my lips--just loud enough to get Bjarke's attention, which it very well did. His body stiffened in response, those big legs of his squirming ever so slightly.

What started as a way to mess with Bjarke ended up turning into a serious need. Every inch of me was riled up and wanting so much more. This guy who I found attractive was lying down next to me, hearing me slide my hand around my hard dick and doing nothing about it. I was about to just ask him straight up if he wanted to have sex, only there was something fun about teasing him.

It took no time at all for me to go full throttle. I collected a good amount of spit in my mouth and shot it onto my swollen, throbbing cock. The slick sounds were loud, and each stroke made Bjarke squirm even more.

As I lay there stroking up and down a thought entered my head, pushing past the clouding pleasure. If Bjarke did indeed find me good looking, then was he hard right now? That thought dialed my arousal to an eleven. Of course, there was always a chance that this was all a misunderstanding, and what I was doing was making the poor guy feel as uncomfortable as possible. I'd actually feel quite bad if that were the case. However, even the chance of Bjarke not being into me failed to quell the heat. I was twisting my hand every which way, getting all around my cock, feeling the ridges, curves--all in an effort to blow a load. It was sure to be a big one. Haven't had a release since I arrived here ... even before then in fact.

Sweat covered my body, and the moist heat traveled all under the blanket. Bjarke was for sure able to feel that lustful warmth ... all my erotic acts happening just a few feet across from him.

When I finally reached the edge, it was like turning on a hose. The eruption of cum shot onto my chest, thick with a pearly white sheen. The stream was so powerful that its impact was audible. My breath now heavy and rigid was full of pleasure; my legs shook uncontrollably.

The accompanying haze felt wonderful. Drowsiness fell on me like a sheet and my mind drifted on an open sea. It felt so good that I didn't even fight back, letting it float me along into a deep, deep sleep...

Light bored its way past the curtains on my eyes, waking me to what should have been a great morning, but ruined by the feeling of dried cum all over my chest. Bjarke was downstairs by the looks of it, most likely making breakfast. I flipped out of bed and wiggled on some pants. The hairy man at the kitchen didn't acknowledge me as I passed by, heading outside to the shower. The cold water out in the shed did a wonderful job of waking me up and cleaning me off. Afterwards, I went back inside to eat.

Bjarke was already sat at the dining table. Opposite him was my plate and I took a seat down in front of it. We were both painfully quiet, his eyes avoiding me all throughout the meal. There was something he wanted to say, only those words never left him. We finished our food around the same time, and he took both our plates, doing the dishes as he normally did.

"Anything you need help with today?" I offered, wanting to be useful somehow. Or rather, I saw it as a way for me to skirt the awkwardness.

The response was a simple shake of the head. I didn't bother pushing it, opting to instead slip underneath the stairs to get in some reading. With the staircase in front of me I had to peer through the slits in-between each step to get a glimpse of Bjarke. He always kept busy doing something or other. But I guess living off the land meant never having time to rest. I could almost feel the tension filling his body ... a tension he desperately needed to release.

I had gotten through a few chapters when Bjarke poked his head into the nook. "I'm heading out. I'll be gone for a few hours."

I lifted my eyes from the book. "Where you headed?"

"Nowhere specific. Just hunting," His eyes avoided me while he spoke. "We're running low on meat."

I heard the thick wooden door slam as he left into the woods. There wasn't must to do around the cabin but read, eat, or sleep, so I chose to keep on with the story I held in my hands.

The many pages I read told of dragons burning down defenseless villages, and an army of trapped spirits storming the grand Capital of Elvellia. Both groups were led by a wicked man named Akela who wanted nothing more than to obliterate the seven folds of heaven. Each chapter was filled with intense intrigue, beautiful descriptions, and wickedly horrific battles. It was so good that hours sped by like a stray bullet. I didn't even take notice of the time until the front door opened, pulling me out of the fantasy.

Bjarke came lumbering in breathing heavily, looking exhausted from the day's search. On his waist were a few tiny woodland critters. And behind him, on the white snow in the front yard, was a small deer. He spent the next few hours taking care of the lifeless bodies, prepping them for later consumption.

I would have helped, but I knew absolutely nothing about that sort of thing. Also, I just hated the look and smell of it all.

There was something about gore that unsettled me. Probably odd considering what I do for a living, but when I would kill someone in a gruesome manner--usually at the request of the one who hired me--I always looked away. I can't even watch horror movies if they're torture porn. Kind of pathetic now that I think about it.

When Bjarke walked into the living room after having finished butchering the animals he was lathered in sweat, with only a little bit of blood finding its way onto his skin; his full-body apron however was drenched in crimson. It looked more like he had just gotten done mutilating some camp counselors rather than taking care of animal meat.

"I'm going to take a shower." He spoke in a tired tone.

"I'll come with," I said, inviting myself. Bjarke gave me a look that held frustration and intrigue. I decided to focus on the intrigue. "I'm pretty sure that there was only enough water left for one shower, so might as well take it together... right?"

There was a long pause. "...You took one this morning did you not. There's no need for you to take another one."

"Yeah, well, I remember you telling me that your whole water machine thingy only works with rain and snow. So, what happens if we go a while without either one?"

"It's Alaska ... you'll be fine." His voice was stern with reason.

I didn't know what the hell I was doing?! I've never tried so hard to get into someone's pants. "Yeah? So what!? I sweat really easy." He didn't look convinced. "And anyway, I've collected some musk from the day. Do you want me getting in your bed all musky?"

I didn't know if it was due to him giving up or if I had actually convinced him, but when he went to the shed, I was accompanying him.

First thing Bjarke did was check the water level, grumbling to himself when I was proven right about the remaining amount. He then started taking his clothes off while ignoring my presence the entire time. I copied his actions.

No part of me was going to miss getting an eye-full of this beast before me, nor was I discreet about taking in the view. While we were of similar-ish heights, our bodies were much different. I had a leaner, more muscular build, while Bjarke was much more of a muscle chub kind of guy. All the men I had slept with in the past were a lot scrawnier than me, but this man ... well this man had me squirming in a foreign way.

With the intention of living alone I was surprised by how spacious the shower's interior was. Because of the size, I was able to give my shower buddy some space as he washed off the blood and sweat. Seeing the red trickle from his body made me think of a knight cleansing himself after a battle. The thought immediately made me hard. Must be that book I'm reading.

We scrubbed down swiftly and without pause. Considering how little we acknowledged each other we might as well have been taking separate showers.

It was close to the end when panic set in. He had finished with his front and moved on to his back. Those huge arms of his did their best to reach the thick wall of his rear. This was an opportunity I couldn't afford to throw away.

"Need any help washing your back?" Bjarke ignored me at first.

His silence focused my vision on the water container above the shower, its contents dwindling like sand in an hourglass. I was now acutely aware of how little time there was. I needed to decide on one of two choices. Either risk going too far or shut my mouth and let him shower in peace. I prayed that the choice I made wouldn't backfire. "You know, I can see you're having trouble reaching around. If you wanted I could-"

A washcloth was thrusted towards me. "Watch where you put your hands, got it?!" His aggressive tone turned me on even more.

Acknowledging the warning I began rubbing his back with the exfoliant. The muscles were strong, and his entire back was thick--although it wasn't as hairy as his front. Since starting at the top I worked my way down until scrubbing just above his plump ass cheeks. They were soft looking, jiggling slightly whenever Bjarke repositioned his legs.

I desperately wanted to know if he was erect, but I could not achieve a good enough angle to confirm anything. Despite not knowing if he was hard, I could still tell he was enjoying the rub to some degree. The groans he dispersed left me feeling weak in the knees. A little over ten years away from people is a lot, and this was most likely his first time feeling another person's touch in forever. He must've been in heaven.