Arabian Knights

"Yes, Hashim."

Bahadur fought futilely. He was a free man and would not submit willingly to being branded by a collar as a slave.

Fahim watched distraught from inside a small cage as a still-fighting Bahadur was dragged back into the large dungeon. He could see the marks of the beating his lover had already endured. Bahadur was shoved roughly to his knees and Hashim tapped at his shoulders with the handle of a leather whip.

"You need to learn just who is master here, warrior," he grated.

"Please, no," Fahim begged, unable to bear the thought of seeing his lover hurt more.

"You would stand in the warrior's stead, boy?" Hashim rasped, his voice taking on a sly tone.

"No, Fahim," Bahadur shouted.

"Ten lashes for the warrior or just five for you."

Fahim hesitated; he had never endured a whipping. The worst punishment he had ever had at his brother's hands was a sound spanking for a childish prank that could have cost him his life and, at the end of that punishment, both he and Afzal had been in tears.

"Twenty for the warrior or six for you," Hashim rasped, as Fahim failed to reply quickly enough.

"I will bear his punishment," Fahim whispered, trying to keep the fear from his voice. He could endure this for Bahadur. He had to. He tried to ignore Bahadur's roar of rage and denial as he was pulled from his cage. He was brought to stand close to Hashim, so close he could smell the man's fetid breath and his stomach threatened to rebel from a combination of fear and disgust.

Hashim indicated manacles at the end of chains hanging from the ceiling.

"You will hold to these," Hashim's voice grated in Fahim's ear. If you release them at any time before you have taken your punishment in full, the warrior will still receive twenty lashes. Is that understood?"

Fahim nodded mutely, reaching to grip unforgiving metal. His skin began to crawl as Hashim walked slowly around him; touching him with the handle of the whip across his chest... rubbing insidiously across his groin...suggestively between his kicked-apart legs. All the time Fahim repeated a mental mantra: 'I can bear this for Bahadur; I can bear this for Bahadur.' He gave a small whimpered sound of denial as Hashim came up close behind him, licking at his shoulder, teasing his nipples before cupping his completely lax genitals.

"He is very beautiful, warrior and his skin perfect. Both will change after he takes your punishment," Hashim laughed coldly.

"I swear you will live long enough to regret every unwanted touch and any pain he endures at your hands, Hashim. I swear it." Bahadur locked his eyes with those of his terrified lover. It was clear to the warrior that the man who held them prisoner was a master of both physical and mental torture. He could see the tremors that shook Fahim's slender frame and a single blow was yet to fall.

Fahim prayed never again to experience the kiss of the lash. Each caress of the whip sent a streak of fire across every nerve in Fahim's unprotected back. And every time Hashim would pause, walk around him slowly, tipping Fahim's head upwards as it began to droop. By the time three lashes had been endured, silent tears stained the young man's face, whilst his knuckles were white. He held so tightly to the manacles, he could feel the metal cutting into his hands and his legs were shaking with the strain. Now his mantra was 'I will not fail', but he could not stop a sound of pain escaping his lips as the fourth blow fell.

Then Hashim's detested voice was buzzing close to him, but Fahim struggled to make sense of the words over the roar of blood that pounded in his ears.

"Well done, boy. You may release the chains."

When Fahim remained in place, Hashim simply prised open the young man's fingers and watched dispassionately as Fahim crumpled to the ground.

"Should I put them in separate cells?" One of the jailors asked Hashim.

"No," Hashim replied, eying the fallen Fahim. Even now the young man was nothing less than beautiful. "Give them some water and put them in the same cell. I believe that the warrior will be far more amenable to our desires if he fears the boy will take his punishment for disobedience. He is a magnificent animal and knew how to wield the saifs. He will go down well at the exhibition of fighting the Prince has arranged. Imagine him oiled, with nothing but the smallest of coverings on his body, or perhaps a harness to emphasise his chest. Yes, he will be appreciated by male and female alike and the Prince will be well pleased."

"And the boy?" The words were a sly whisper.

"Once the exhibition is over, the warrior can be taught obedience more ... personally. I don't want to mar him now. Then the boy can warm my bed and be taught a completely different form of obedience. I am sure he will refuse me nothing to spare his beloved warrior."

****

It seemed an eternity to Bahadur before he was finally locked in a dark, stinking cell with the barely conscious Fahim. His heart constricted with every muted mewl of pain from his lover's lips as he cleansed the wounds by made by the whip. He was marginally relieved that it seemed Hashim's expertise at wielding the weapon had meant that, although Fahim had been hurt, the lashes were relatively shallow. If he could keep the wounds clean, Fahim might not be left with unsightly scars on his precious, perfect skin, although his assessment was based as much on feel as sight. The only lights were dim lamps outside the cell that cast precious little illumination inside.

He glanced around, his nose wrinkling with distaste. The only 'bedding' in the cell was straw so dirty he would not give it to an animal to lie on. He gave a worried glance at his young lover. Bahadur's oriental master had emphasised the need to a warrior to pay particular attention to personal cleanliness and as a consequence, the big man was often teased about his scrupulous cleansing morning and night. However, his relatively scar-free body and rapid healing when wounded seemed to bear testimony to his master's teachings. Here, it was going to be almost impossible to observe them. He drew Fahim onto his lap and encouraged his beloved to drink a little of their water. His anger burned away his tears before they had chance to fall and he repeatedly dropped kisses into his mate's soft tresses.

As awareness came to Fahim so did a mixture of pain and shame that had him sobbing helplessly against his lover's hard chest. Slowly he regained mastery over his emotions and realised Bahadur was rocking him gently and crooning softly. It was a tender side to the big man that he felt privileged to see and it made Fahim fall in love with the warrior all over again. The love of the older man was almost palpable and, even in the dark despair surrounding them, Fahim's heart rejoiced. As he had lain in his lover's embrace, Fahim's quicksilver mind had been working. He knew what he wanted ... what he needed and he knew it was going to be difficult to make the big man to agree. As there was no point in being anything other than direct in their circumstances, Fahim leant back a little to try and see his mate's face in the almost non-existent light.

"Bahadur," he whispered, his voice rough from his tears. "I would have you love me."

"No, no, no, do not ask it of me," the big man moaned softly into Fahim's hair.

"This is not the place or the way I would choose to give myself to you, my love. But I fear that Hashim would force from me what I wish only to give to you. I beg you, make love with me, and take the gift I offer."

With a sob of his own, Bahadur claimed his mate's lips. The words were true. He had seen the avarice in Hashim's eyes; had seen the lust. He had the feeling their jailor had plans for them he was yet to reveal and he feared those included forcing his depraved lust on his virginal lover. He knew he had capitulated even before he began to reach for the sash at Fahim's waist, yet he kept up his objections.

"We have nothing to ease my way inside you," he murmured, hands working to divest his mate of the voluminous pants as he nuzzled Fahim's throat.

"Yes we do," the young man insisted, framing his lover's face and kissing him deeply. "We have our love. I want this, you want this. I am yours. Take me, my warrior and love me, please love me, Bahadur."

Bahadur gave a soul-deep groan at Fahim's words, spoken with such sincerity and need. As he helped the smaller man out of his clothing, he laid it on the floor for Fahim to lie upon. He removed his own pants to furnish a basic pillow. He then positioned himself behind the lithe body, trying not to rub against the welts on Fahim's back, kissing gently at the bare shoulder before him.

"I love you, Fahim," he vowed as he reached to stroke at still-soft flesh between his lover's thighs. He prayed he could make Fahim spill. He felt his mate's hand cover his own and he murmured tender words as he gently milked Fahim of his seed. He circled Fahim's secret opening. "Are you certain, beloved?" Bahadur asked one last time.

"Make love with me," Fahim whispered, pushing his buttocks back onto the finger sliding between his cheeks.

With infinite patience, Bahadur pressed a single finger into molten depth, groaning softly at the tight heat grasping his digit. He held unmoving until Fahim's tenseness eased before beginning to move in and out, relaxing the virginal passage. The process was repeated with two and then three fingers, Bahadur feeling the clenching muscle slowly relax. He curled his fingers carefully and found his lover's hidden jewel. Fahim's soft moan and pushing back onto his fingers partially appeased the bigger man. He had dreamt of deflowering his precious virgin aboard the Farris and now those dreams were shattered. He fervently prayed he could give his mate pleasure from their lovemaking.

"Relax as much as you can, beloved. Take a deep breath for me and then let it out all at once." Bahadur's deep voice resonated in Fahim's ear. The warrior had used the last of his mate's crème to coat his iron-hard shaft, mixing it with his own copious pre-come. As much as his mind detested the situation in which he and Fahim were about to consummate their love, his body yearned to unite with its mate, to become as one with Fahim.

Fahim nodded his understanding and took the breath but before he had fully exhaled, Bahadur was pushing insistently inside. Fahim muted his scream at the searing pain by biting on his fist, not wanting the jailers to hear what was happening. All his muscles seemed to have contracted hard in protest. He was unable to catch his breath, all his awareness was focused on devastating fullness that felt as though it would split him into two.

"Breathe, my love. Please." Bahadur's pleading voice registered dimly. "Do you want me to pull out?"

Fahim removed his fist from his lips and brought his hand to the hip behind him, holding as tight as he was able. Through gritted teeth, he managed a hoarse:

"No."

Bahadur's hands stroked soothingly up and down Fahim's chest, caressing the taut nipples, tugging at them gently, hoping to distract Fahim whilst he stayed unmoving within the tight ring of muscle. Then an idea came to his mind.

"When your brother has come for us and we are free of this place we will make love again," he promised, whispering huskily in Fahim's ear. "Picture us aboard Farris, the blue sky seen through a porthole and the gently undulating waves."

Fahim listened and took a deep breath and then another, concentrating on the vision as Bahadur's voice caressed his ear

"I will know every part of your body with my tongue, not a single place will remain unknown to me. You will moan and beg and writhe and I will take you in my mouth until you spill, screaming my name."

Slowly, Fahim felt his breached muscles unclench and tentatively accept the welcome intruder as he pictured himself pleasured by his lover's mouth.

"You love me, I love you," Fahim husked. The marvel of that thought made him rock back minutely, taking in a tiny bit more of Bahadur's substantial flesh.

"I love you more than life itself, Fahim." Bahadur vowed. "When I am next inside you I will have stretched you with my tongue before using the finest oil."

That thought sent a bolt of pure lust deep inside Fahim's belly and he groaned softly, his internal muscles clenching and unclenching in anticipation. The hiss from Bahadur made him smile and he moved a little more. The pain had muted to a dull ache and the fullness was incredibly satisfying, because it was Bahadur that filled him. He gave a soft gasp as Bahadur's hand reached to stroke him once more. His flesh twitched valiantly and began to slowly refill, the sensation beyond anything Fahim could have imagined.

The next few moments ensured Bahadur's weapon was completely sheathed within Fahim's molten depths. The pain was finally gone leaving only a voluptuous feeling of being filled with Bahadur's love.

"You are so tight ... hot ... mine." Bahadur's voice was in Fahim's ear and the words seared into Fahim's soul.

"Yours," the young man agreed. Even in this most undesirable of places, he felt content to lie with Bahadur buried within him, feeling loved, treasured and completed in a way he had never known was possible.

"You are well, Fahim?" Bahadur's voice sounded unsure.

"I am well, my beloved," Fahim replied. The pain was now a distant memory, the union with his soul-mate more than he could ever have wished for.

Bahadur kissed his shoulder and nibbled at his throat and began to slide in and out, the friction making Fahim pant softly. Then he was thrusting faster and that secret spot was sparked again making Fahim beg, almost silently, in a muted plea.

Bahadur held Fahim still and moved with controlled power. His aim was to make Fahim aware of only pleasure and not of the cell that held them. He pulled on swollen flesh, licking and nipping at Fahim's delectable body, pumping his hips to pound at Fahim's hidden sweetness.

The flames of rapture rose higher, firing Fahim's body with a burning need. Bahadur's' hand was insistent, demanding Fahim spill again and the volcano that simmered inside him finally erupted with his seed pulsing explosively from his body. He heard Bahadur husk his name, the sound accompanied by the incredible sensation of liquid fire flowing inside him. Fahim finally slumped, replete in a way he had never before experienced. He wanted to tell Bahadur how much he loved the warrior, but his body was leaden in the wake of the intense release and his eyes refused to remain open.

Bahadur was in ecstasy as his seed coated his lover's contracting channel. That he had brought his mate to completion when joined with him offered some consolation to his soul for the detested circumstances. He carefully withdrew from Fahim's body. He smiled indulgently as he found his lover was insensate. He pulled on his pants then tenderly re-dressed Fahim. He made sure he held tight to his sleeping lover, keeping his larger body between Fahim and the cell door, offering what little protection he could.

"Hurry, Afzal," he whispered into the darkness.

****

Afzal enjoyed lazing on the beach. Some of his men were fishing, others creating the campfires, the rest told seafaring tales or sang. The time passed pleasantly and quickly. It was only when the fish were ready for grilling that Afzal frowned, realising his brother and the warrior had not returned. Although some of the crew made good-natured and ribald comments, which Afzal took in good grace, he noted that pairs of his men were now seeking higher ground to look for the couple.

Most of his crew had been with him since he took command of the Farris and Fahim was universally loved by all. They had watched him grow from a serious child treated as a favoured mascot, into a beautiful, intelligent man who lived and worked as their equal. Some had found the warrior difficult to relate to, Bahadur tended towards keeping people at arm's-length. However, the crew were sharp-eyed and quick-minded enough to see the growing affection between the recalcitrant warrior and Afzal's brother. All sought nothing but happiness for the couple. Bearing in mind what he had hoped for, Afzal sent a prayer that Fahim and the warrior were simply lost in each other and nothing more.

Afzal arose from the sand as one of his closest friends came towards him, abandoning his perch on a rocky hilltop. As he got neared, Afzal could see the same worry he knew was etched on his own face.

"You are concerned, Rafiq?" Afzal asked, knowing the answer already.

"As are you and the men," the older man replied. "I thought to have them returned by now, the warrior finally having confessed his love for Fahim. But neither would be so blinded by love to remain out there this long. The warrior takes his duties seriously and your brother idolises you and would never purposely cause you to fret. Yes I worry, my friend, and I begin to fear that it is with good cause."

"Then let us take action," Afzal said decisively.

Afzal took a select group with him, including Rafiq who was knowledgeable in healing and Rabi, an ebony-skinned, shaven-skulled Moor who was an excellent tracker and hunter. Two other crewmen followed, their hands drifting to repeatedly touch the scimitars they carried as if trouble was a foregone conclusion. The troupe followed Rabi who had no trouble in following the trail of their missing companions.

"They lay for a while here," Rabi announced, reading where bodies, rather than just footprints told their story. "Then they moved this way." He pointed and headed off in the indicated direction. As he reached the centre of the clearing, Rabi began to trot to and fro, murmuring in his own tongue as he deciphered the signs, although it was clear to all that riders had made an appearance.

"Can you make sense of what happened here?" Afzal asked, anxiety colouring his voice. Two sets of concerned sienna orbs met as Rabi faced his Captain.

Fahim and Bahadur were walking that way," he pointed, "towards greener foliage. Riders came from the hills there. Fahim ran back the way they had come, his steps are smaller and lighter than Bahadur's, and a rider peeled away to chase after him. His marks vanish, so I conclude the rider took him on his mount. Bahadur's vanish amongst the other horse tracks. The riders headed in that direction," he pointed to the forest ahead. "I could find no sign that they were harmed, Captain," Rabi concluded.

Afzal indicated for one of his crewmen to step forward.

"Return to camp and, at first light, bring a party of our men here, leaving enough to defend the Farris. We will camp just inside the forest perimeter and wait for you. Tomorrow we will find who has taken my brother and the warrior." Afzal's voice dropped to a cold, deadly growl. "And if either man is hurt, I will have vengeance."

****

Bahadur was already awake when their jailors sauntered down the passageway, turning up the light from the lamps and waking the prisoners with jeers and shouts. Two bowls of thin gruel were pushed through the bars of the cell in which the warrior and Fahim were held. Bahadur was concerned at the unnatural heat of his young lover's body and at the disorientated look in expressive eyes.

"Afzal?" Fahim murmured sleepily.

"He is not here, beloved," Bahadur replied, nuzzling his mate. "We are prisoners, remember? But he will find us."

"I remember," Fahim sighed and then gave a pained cry as he moved and his abused back protested.

"Let me bathe it a little, love," Bahadur urged. He dabbed carefully at the dirt that had managed to insinuate its way into the cruel weals. His lover's back would be bruised beneath the welts, adding to Fahim's discomfort. He let Fahim lean against his chest as they tried to eat the unpalatable food. They shared a single bowl at a time between them, so that Bahadur could ensure Fahim swallowed a reasonable amount.