The Inheritance Ch. 05

The cook scurried along the passage trying to look invisible, which wasn't easy for a man of his height and solidness. And in one hand he held a sack that looked well filled but from the way it bounced about was not heavy. He made it to the kitchen unobserved, and entering, placed the sack in a corner out of sight, while looking sternly at the thin young woman, little more than a girl, who sat at the wooden trestle table grinding walnuts in a stone bowl.

"You may go, Gila," he said to the young woman, who looked at him in wide-eyed surprise.

"Oh," she said uncertainly, "But . . ."

"Gila. Go," he said firmly, his brows furrowing in a way that indicated he was annoyed.

She hesitated still, but then muttered, "Thank you, Mark. Oh, thank you," and scurried out, eager to get out of sight, before her usually demanding master changed his mind.

Mark was the cook, but also a winemaker and herbalist, a man with many skills and of much importance in that house and in the ancient world.

"Humph," Mark mumbled. "If he doesn't come with me I am going anyway," he said to the empty room as he reached under the table Gila had been sitting at.

He pulled out a large wicker basket on leather straps that hooked over a man's shoulders, letting him carry the basket on his back. And lifting the cover off it and pulling a small square of linen out he poured the half crushed walnuts from the stone bowl into it and folded the cloth up, making a neat parcel.

"Yarron will hate to know I have taken food from his house, almost as much as he will hate me if I take Salus from him," the cook mumbled, as he placed the small parcel of nuts securely among the basket's contents.

As Mark was pushing the basket back out of sight, a young male servant entered the room carrying an empty jug. "Yarron has moved on to some entertainment with your young friend, whom he plans on sharing about generously when they return from this celebration at David's house," the servant said, as he set the jug on a high shelf.

"How many of them are there?" the cook asked worriedly.

"Five, of course, Goron and his brother, Joseph, and our three young men. They are also talking of Old Peter's daughter," the young man replied before he hesitated and blushed, "Talking of . . . of making some fun with her on their way back, and . . . I may . . . if I can get out of course. Can I go and warn her? Her father, . . . he, well you know he is a drunk; he will be no protection for her."

"Go. Go," the cook said, " Do what you can, but be here in the morning at first light. I doubt they will return before then, but if you are not here, you know what can happen."

"Well, I do, Mark," the servant replied, and spat into the smoldering fire. "Though I will not have to suffer as young Barabus did," he said. " But there are worse masters than Yarron, as well as better."

"True," the cook replied. But when the young servant had gone, he added, "But not many are worse by my reckoning, certainly not for poor Barabus."

Shortly afterward another servant hurried in, this one older, with his eyes slitted and his mouth slack. He was carrying another jug and several empty platters, which he hurriedly dumped on a high shelf, "There will be some fun tonight," he muttered, avoiding the cooks eyes and hurrying off, his hand gripping his hard pole through his short tunic even as he left the room. He was obviously hard and throbbing and in need of release.

"May the gods give Yarron the wasting sickness," the cook, Mark, cursed as he paced about the kitchen anxiously.

He muttered and looked at the doorway and occasionally went out into the passageway and listened, but each time he returned to the kitchen to continue his pacing and occasional mutterings.

Then Salus was suddenly coming through the doorway looking pale. "I believe all you have said about what befell poor Barabus," he said to Mark. "Yarron would have them all use me, when they return. Roughly, I have no doubt. I am afraid of what might happen to me, afraid that the injuries Barabus suffered . . ."

"You will leave with me then?" Mark interrupted with a cry, fear and excitement battling on his face and changing his whole appearance, as he moved to the young man and embraced him, his mouth finding Salus's, and the two falling into a deep kiss.

When their lips parted Salus's eyes were full of relief also, and he spoke rapidly. "Yes. Yes. I do not want to be ruined, to suffer . . . or to . . . to die of Yarron's abuse. I believe the stories now, about Barabus. Can we leave here? Now, Mark? You said . . . Please. Now."

"Yes. Yes. I have everything ready. Your possessions, mine, and some gold. I have even organized for us to ride some way on the smith's cart."

A greatly relieved Salus wrapped his arms more tightly about Mark, and they kissed again as Salus rubbed his body against the big, strong frame of the cook. Mark, in turn, was now quivering with desire at the closeness of the young man he was enamoured of and was so tightly embracing.

"Come. Come. Hurry," Mark said, flushed and shaking, but pulling away from Salus enough to drag his basket from beneath the table, as well as a cloth bundle, but not letting go of his lover, as if afraid the young man might suddenly change his mind and disappear. "I have family still in Persepolis, and there is work always for a man of my skills."

"Persepolis? Oh. Such a great city. We are going there?" Salus replied, in awe.

"Yes, to Persepolis," Mark replied, "Your things," he added, pointing to the sack in the corner of the room, which Salus grabbed up and briefly looked into.

"Thank you," Salus was saying as he turned back to Mark and saw the look on his face and smiled. "Do we have time . . .?"

Mark hesitated, but then putting down his baggage, he moved to Salus and ran his hands down the younger man's back to the firm mounds of his rear and pulled his lover close to him, pressing his body to Salus's, as they fell into another deep, passionate kiss.

For long moments they melded into one being, and the world about them, with all its problems, vanished. Salus was hard and aching to be enclosed by warm flesh and rubbed his throbbing organ against Mark's firm, warm thigh as the big, strong hands at his ass lifted his short tunic and spread his cheeks.

"Hmmmmmmmm," Mark rumbled, overcome by desire. And pulling his mouth free, he turned Salus about and pushed him down over the table. "Ah, so perfect," he sighed, as his hands again parted Salus's cheeks and he saw his hole. It was slick with cum still, inviting and quivering in anticipation, and Mark quickly lifted his robe, and taking his manhood in his hand, he stroked his cap slowly over the wet entrance, moaning as he did so, desperate for them to be joined. Then he was moving it about the puckered and twitching entrance to Salus's channel before he pressed himself in. There was some resistance, for he was thicker than any of the young men earlier had been, as well as longer.

Salus moaned, wanting the ultimate joining as much as his lover. "Oh gods," he cried out, and moved about to open himself more, feeling pain for a moment as the thick organ was pressed against the resistance his body made to such a huge thing trying to enter it. And then it was past. And after a sharp cry at the pain, it was as always only the waves of pleasure that Mark's big weapon always brought him as it moved into his body and rubbed against his spot.

Mark kissed the back of Salus's shoulders and neck as he moved inside him, and Salus mumbled happily, "Oh, that feels so good. Oh yes, deeper. All of you, I want all of you, Oh, Oh. Yesss."

And as Mark plowed him, Salus began to pump his hips back and forth to meet the big mans thrusts.

The excitement and the danger worked with his arousal, and Mark was soon moaning and taking his last thrust and coming deep inside his lover. Then he fell across his back and his arm circled under the young man and stroked him to his own quick release as he nuzzled at his neck.

"Ahh, I am a lucky man," Mark hummed in Salus's ear as the young man shuddered and the cream spouted from his weapon.

For a while they continued to lie like that, savoring the mellow afterglow of a deep joining, and Salus turned his face so their mouths met and they kissed again. Finally, Mark rose up and pulled his lover gently up and tidied his tunic. "Come, it's time to go."

Salus mumbled contentedly, smiling foolishly at the big man, as they both took up their possessions.

Putting his arm about Salus, Mark guided him to the door, "Now, we leave this cursed place," Mark said, and he spat into the smoldering fire.

Salus did the same, and then they were both hurrying toward the door that led to the outside world beyond the courtyard of the farm. But even as they made their departure, Mark kept his arm gently about Salus's shoulders as if still afraid he might vanish.