The New World Ch. 06byCruel2BKind©
*This is a short pitiful chapter, I realize. But I got caught up in my classes, and I feel I should compensate for how long I was out of the circuit.
All characters are 18+*
Matteo and Ahote only had a few minutes of a head start. Soon the entire pack was howling after them. Howling for their blood. They had injured the Alpha, and they would die.
The night was eerie and dark and full of shadows. The moonlight was weak, and the stars winked like cold diamonds. The trees seemed stark and menacing, and the snow crust was treacherous, holding their weight at times and at other times letting them crash through.
The only sounds were of their panting breath and the angry howls of the pack. They had a chance, a single solitary chance. If they kept moving and stopped for nothing. Ahote was lean and fast, used to running great distances across the plains. Matteo was even faster, a quick little thing. They just needed to keep running, and they did.
They ran west, towards the distant mountains that blotted out the stars. They ran, and the howls faded, but that meant little. It just meant that the pack was saving their collective breath for running. They found a game trail and followed it, Matteo in front of Ahote. Ahote refused to let Matteo out of his sight, even while running for their lives. Breath plunged from their open mouths in white clouds.
The tiny moon was cold, and the stars even colder.
They had drawn themselves a lead of about a mile. It was a margin of safety, they still ran at breakneck speed, but they had at least one mile.
It was Matteo, speedy, exhausted little Matteo, who smelled it. He veered to the right, and Ahote followed him, confused, but trusting his lover. Soon, he could smell it too.
It was a large flat clearing, and the skeletons of old wigwams stood out of the deep snow like dead trees. They had almost no time, but they did have Matteo's supersensitive nose.
Matteo snuffled in the deep snow, gasping for air, his thin matted sides heaving. He fastened his teeth around a large ruined hide. The hide was stiff and old, chewed by mice and at one point, a fox. It was thick, and it was heavy. Matteo nudged the frozen stiff hide into a sort of ball, and Ahote picked it up. After another precious moment of sniffing, Matteo picked up a discarded spear from the snow and they started running again, this time laden with the things they needed to survive.
They splashed through streams. Ran until they could no longer hear the baying of the wolves that pursued them. Ran until the great power slipped away from them, and they fell in the snow, their bodies trembling and steaming and naked in the deep snow.
They were exhausted, but they had to keep moving.
They were in a rocky area. Low rocky hills cut by countless streams. Boulders jutting from the frozen earth like the knucklebones of giants. The huge evergreens had given way to birch and aspen and maple. Matteo and Ahote were blinded with snow, and utterly exhausted. Ahote looked around, holding Matteo's tiny slick body in the freezing cold.
He saw the cave. The cave was a tiny crack at the base of a gigantic split boulder. The rock rose in a craggy triangle from the stony ground. Ahote dragged Matteo and the hide and the spear to the crack, and slid inside. The inside was dark and tiny. An irregularly shaped chamber, narrow and tapered. Filled with rotten nuts from some squirrel that had used the crack to store their cache.
The bottom of the cave was soft with clumpy dark loam and dead leaves, little snow had reached the inside. Ahote was frozen. He had to start a fire, this place was small, if he could start a fire, then they would survive. Matteo was barely concious, shuddering weakly in his arms. Ahote curled him up, and wrapped the filthy stiff hide around his tiny body. Ahote ran naked into the cold, knowing that he only had minutes until they froze to death. They were naked and their energy reserves were depleted. They were soaked with sweat, and they were so weak. He only had this one chance to save them.
Matteo shuddered in the cave, the hide held in enough heat to revive him, he felt as if his energy was just leaking away, like water from a sieve. He tried not to fall asleep, he stared at the entrance numbly, shuddering and struggling not to let his eyelids droop. He was so cold. So cold that his limbs were burning and numb at the same time.
Ahote ran in his face crusted with snow that wouldn't melt because his skin was too cold to melt it. He had a handful of birchbark, the thin outer sheets of it that were powdery, and filled with a natural combustable oil. He had a strait stick and a thick log in the other. He crouched on soft cave floor and made his firedrill, shaking with cold.
Matteo crawled over to him and draped his tiny shaking body over Ahote's icy shoulders, wrapping the hide around them both, trying to transfer any scrap of energy or warmth to his lover, to help him.
Ahote groaned. The cold was like a physical pain. He stripped the bark from the log in several swift deft strokes with the sharp stone spearhead from the weapon that Matteo had taken from the village in his jaws. The spearhead was broken, but still very sharp. He made a flat wood surface, and gouged a small notch in the flatness. He shredded the birchbark into fine hairs with his shaking hands and gathered the thin papery bark in a ball of fluff near the notch he had carved.
With that, he sharpened the stick he had brought in with a few scraping strokes of the spearhead and started rolling the stick in his hands. Making fire with a drill was a long laborious process, and Ahote fumbled several times, forcing him to start over. Matteo was barely conscious when Ahote crowed with delight, and Matteo smelled the tiny wisp of smoke.
The tiny red ember was precious and fragile. Ahote blew on it, and prodded the finely shredded birch bark towards the tiny dying ember. A tiny flame took hold. The wisp of blue was no larger then the nail on Matteo's littlest finger. Ahote fed shreds of birchbark into it, and it grew. Ahote put dead leaves in it, and finally, a handful of thin twigs. Matteo opened his eyes and saw the tiny fire, burning gamely, but with almost no fuel. Ahote got up and ran back out into the snow, snarling at the cold.
Matteo huddled around the fire, scrabbling along the ground for dead leaves and twigs. The fire was life, the fire was their only chance. Ahote came back with an armload of thin sticks, and a heavy pine bough covered in green needles. He blocked the thin entrance with the branch, and it did a little to block the drafts that kept whistling in.
Ahote fed the little flame with twigs, and then slightly thicker twigs. He ran out to get more firewood, and Matteo ran out with him. They gathered up a stockpile of sticks and branches in the front of the cave, to block the entrance and the icy winds that came through.
Ahote and Matteo huddled together, the stiff and curling hide around their shoulders, the fire's heat warming them. They sat so close that they nearly singed, but their backs were frozen.
"We made it." Matteo whispered, softly, and in French. Ahote didn't understand the words, but he thought he understood the gist. He lay down on the soft bed of dry loam and crunchy leaves. Matteo lay in the curve of his body, as they curled around the fire. The hide was wrapped around them.
The exhausted wolves fell asleep.
Matteo woke up, shivering. Ahote was gone, but the place occupied by his body was still warm, so he didn't panic. He shoved a thick dead bough into the fire and sat up, huddling under the stiff hide. He watched the fire lick around the damp bark, making it steam. He watched the wood singe, and steam, and finally, reluctantly, catch fire. He was hypnotized by the warm orange tongues of flame. Those flickers of light, and the ragged hide on his shoulders, were the only thing keeping him alive.
Ahote lurched in, shuddering, his skin shiny and dull from the cold. Matteo jumped over to him, and wrapped his body and the hide around Ahote's shoulders, gasping at how cold his lover was, and trying to transfer his body heat. Ahote dumped an armful of branches and twigs near the fire, and shuddered.
They were both weak. Hunger gnawed at their stomachs. Their fast hot wolfish metabolisms were the only thing keeping them alive, but it would also kill them. They would be very weak if they managed to survive for the three moonless days.
Ahote eventually stopped shivering so badly. He built up a wall of snow near the entrance. Matteo blinked at the sudden warmth. Drafts still whistled through the bare hole near the top of the snow wall, but more heat was retained. He let the hide slip a little from his shoulders.
Matteo knew what he wanted. He gave the hide to Ahote and scraped together armfuls of leaves over the softest bit of loam. He took the hide back and threw it over the pile of soft sand and leaves. It was warm enough so they both shivered, but the fire warmed their naked bodies.
Matteo shivered. He was still sore, but he wanted to know his lover, and know him fully. He didn't know if he would live or die. He lay on his back on the hide, and beckoned his lover to him.
"Ahote." He whispered, spreading his slim creamy thighs. His genitals were soft and limp, but as he spoke his lover's name, his cock twitched.
Ahote was crouching a little ways away. His golden eyes glittered. He crawled forward, and Matteo shivered when he caught the young brave's scent. Strong and musky and dominant. Just the scent of his lover made his muscles relax and his cock twitch and his asshole loosen. Matteo turned over.
Ahote growled at the sight of that long pale back, those tender vulnerable buttocks. The lustful, submissive way he held himself, the naked need in those soft honey-colored eyes. His red hair was matted, and still the color of a sunrise.
"Take me." Matteo whispered, trembling. Ahote wasn't touching him. Ahote was so close that he could smell the thick dominant musk and feel the body heat on his skin and feel Ahote's eyes on him. He breathed in small puffs, and flexed his body sinuously. He slowly, luxuriously stretched his body so his back and buttocks pressed back into Ahote's taut chest.
Ahote lunged, pressing Matteo's body down, dominating him with nothing more then his body and his scent. Matteo shuddered with delight. His man was strong, and dominant. He demurely spread his legs and lowered his chest to the ground. He turned his head to the side, his cheek against the rough stiff hide. He looked back as his man leaned forward, pressing the long muscly whip of his body fully against Matteo's skinny back and buttocks.
Matteo whimpered as he felt Ahote's thick length grinding between his buttocks. He leaned back, shivering and moaning at the feel of Ahote's strong body.
The fire snapped and flickered, and Ahote growled softly in his ear, before nipping the tender lobe. Ahote spat in his hand and slathered his cock with the simple lubricant. He spat on his finger and reached into Matteo's spasming little asshole.
Matteo hissed softly, and relaxed. He worked hard at relaxing the muscles that Ahote was prodding and massaging. He writhed as Ahote jabbed his prostate, sending a wave of warmth through his body and making his cock throb.
It wasn't enough. Ahote lowered his head and grabbed the pale taut globes of Matteo's buttocks and pulled them apart. Matteo let out a gasping snarl of surprise and arousal when Ahote drew his tongue from the base of Matteo's scrotum, up the perineum, and across the tender knot of muscle that spasmed at his touch, and ending with a swirl and a nip at the dimple above his buttocks.
Matteo gasped and trembled, clutching handfuls of the hide in his fists. He pushed back, groaning when Ahote stuck his tongue inside his tender asshole. Ahote's mouth was wet and insistent and probing, slicking him up. His tongue plunged inside, loosening him up. With every brush of his prostate, Matteo felt his anus relax, felt himself become more open to Ahote.
Ahote raised himself, and spat on his hand to rub more saliva onto his thick cock. Clear liquid, precome and saliva, dripped from the fat head exposed by the withdrawn foreskin. "I love you." He whispered. First in Nipmuc, then in English. Matteo whimpered and repeated the Nipmuc words before thrusting back, impaling his slick little opening on the tip of Ahote's cock.
He gasped, and Ahote growled with pleasure and thrust his hips gently. Matteo squealed with a mixture of burning pain and pleasure. Ahote snarled and trapped Matteo under him, nipping and sucking on the side of his neck. Matteo gasped and pushed back, tears streaming from his eyes as Ahote's cock slid into his bruised and battered asshole. He yelped when Ahote's cock scraped across his prostate.
Ahote pinned him to the ground. Ahote was panting and gasping and pushing back into Ahote. He writhed back, making his man fuck him harder. The pain was huge and burning and intense, but Matteo embraced it, and it melted into the most intense kind of pleasure. His cock scraped against the hide, leaving a streak of moisture.
It was a battle of dominance. Matteo was under, but he was aggressive. Ahote had to snarl and grab his shoulders, pounding his hips, trying to make Matteo submit, but the young red pup wouldn't bow his head, not yet. This was love, wolf love, with snarling and biting and bruises but a fierce loyalty that could never be contested.
Ahote bit Matteo's shoulder, and the pup snarled, looking sideways and up at his man, teeth bared, but eyes hotly burning with love and need.
His pale back bowed and suddenly Matteo's snarls softened into moans and gasps. Soft girlish submissive sounds. The fire left his eyes. Ahote snarled with victory and lowered his flexing upper body. Sweat dripped down their limbs, making their skin glisten. Muscles and tendons moved under the skin like living things, bones jutted, making them look gaunt and sinewy and fierce.
Ahote pressed his chest to Matteo's white back. He could feel his lover's spine, feel the muscles writhing, they were lubricated with sweat. He moved his arms under Matteo's armpits, and clasped his hands behind Matteo's neck like a full nelson. Matteo submitted, whimpering with joy, arching his buttocks back into the repeated thrusting of his lover's thick cock.
Ahote was over him fully, flexing his bronze buttocks in the rippling warm light of the fire. He had his small red lover pinned completely to the hide, with every long stroke forced Matteo's cock against the hide, making the pup gasp with need.
Matteo gasped with need. "Ahote!!" He screamed. Ahote pulled back, and slammed his cock into Matteo's ass so fast that their thighs made a clapping sound. Matteo snaked his hand down to stroke his rock-hard cock. His hand was slick with sweat and precome.
They came at the same time. Matteo screamed and arched his body to be pressed into Ahote as much as he could. Ahote bit Matteo's shoulder hard enough to bruise, marking him.
The lovers went limp on the hide, Ahote had the sense to pull the side of the hide over them both. In a few minutes, the sweat on them would cool, and they would be frozen, but for now they each felt like they were suns, radiating heat and love.
The pack found them at midday. The wolves were expert trackers. They had been scouring the banks of the stream tirelessly. They had brought a tent, and clothing, and food, and weapons. A fire burned merrily in their makeshift camp. They knew that the two fugitives were nearby, naked and helpless. After a number of hours, they were only looking for their bodies in the snow.
But then they found Ahote's bloody footprints. They smelled the smoke and the sweat and the sex from the tiny cave blocked with snow, and the scouts ran back to get the Alpha.
Matteo was wrenched from his deep exhausted sleep by a hand wound in his hair, yanking him outside. He fought, snarling and suddenly shockingly awake in the freezing ice-laden air. Ahote was subdued as well. The attack was too quick. They were too tired, too weak.
Matteo cried out weakly as his arms were wrenched behind his back. The man, the young brave that had been so cruel to him when he had just entered the village, he was the one wrapping thongs around Matteo's thin wrists.
The Alpha stood over him, looking down at his conquest. He didn't look pleased or greedy, just coldly satisfied. Matteo flinched away from the Alpha's stare, and tried to crawl to Ahote, his tiny body freezing in the dry cold air.
The Alpha barked a sharp order, and the braves dragged the naked wolves away from the stream bed. Dragged them back to the camp. Ahote would be exiled for good, and Matteo would be taught his place.
The tent was plain, four tent poles wrapped with a flexible hide and a flap for the door. It was wide and low, a glorified lean-to against the bole of a massive tree. A small fire kept it warm. It was a cramped place for the six braves that the Alpha had brought to capture the fugitive wolves.
Matteo was thrown to the ground-cloth near the fire pit. The young brave, the cruel one, he took leather thongs and tied the frozen puppy's ankles together behind his back. Matteo whimpered with the pain of his sore muscles. His eyes were swollen and red from weeping. He shivered as the warmth of the fire washed over his naked frozen limbs. It was dry and warm in here, the fire's warmth filled the tent, unlike the cave where the fire had just kept the stone's cold at bay.
Ahote was hogtied and thrown over to the other side of the tent. He didn't move. His eyes were closed, but his muscles were flexing, testing the soundness of his bonds.
The Alpha stepped in, nearly filling the tent. Matteo flinched, and he smelled the bitter alkali stench of jealousy from Ahote. Matteo cringed when the Alpha knelt down. Ahote smelled his puppy's fear, and he snarled low in his throat, flexing hard against the thongs, so hard his skin chafed and broke.
The Alpha stroked Matteo's cheek, and the pup cringed away. He looked away, feeling sick. He didn't want Ahote to see, not so soon after they had known each other, not so soon after they had become one. He let out a small noise of anguish and frustration and a deep-welling hatred.
The Alpha looked at Ahote scornfully. "You are a poor mate. This pup is an outsider. He is weak, but you put everything on the line for him. You attacked me, and fled from your home. You are banished Ahote. If you are seen or scented within our territory ever again, you will be hunted down like a mongrel."
Matteo did not understand all of the words, but he understood what was happening. He struggled against his bonds in a single heave. He cried out with the pain and anguish and anger. "Non!" He sobbed. "NON! No! Nein!" He screamed no in every language he knew, and struggled against his bonds. The Alpha and the other wolves stared at him coldly. In their eyes, his pain was childish. He cried out like a child, so they thought of him like a child. His meager status lowered even further in their minds. He wasn't the bottom rung of the ladder, he was under the dirt.
Ahote nearly went into a paroxysm of fury. It didn't matter that he was being exiled, that had been the threat from the start. The Alpha was tormenting his mate, and the hot stench of his lust was filling the room. The Alpha wanted to take Matteo then and there. Ahote's bindings cut into his skin, and red trickles ran down his tense limbs. The leather thongs squealed under the pressure, but held.