Blurb:
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"Weyom."William stood stock-still, unable to move or even blink. Did his eyes deceive him? Perhaps, but he stared steadily at the approaching form, afraid that to look away would dispel the mirage. He was keenly aware of every movement and sound around him—the plat-plat of the rain, the cries of scavenger birds circling above, even his own breath, shallow and bated, waiting…waiting. William sank to the ground with a soundless sob. He jerked back to awareness as water trickled slowly over his parched lips; his tongue darted out instinctively to lick up the gifted moisture. "Where…?" he croaked.
Intugu shook his head, held the canteen of water steady.
William drank greedily, and when he finally lifted his head away, he barely had time to brace himself before Intugu was on him, pressing him back against the ground with a grunt and claiming his lips in a savage, demanding kiss.
"Thought you dead," Intugu murmured as their lips parted. He rained kisses down William's jaw and neck, licking, biting, and sucking.
"I though the same of you." William caught Intugu's head in his hands, their gazes meeting. "Are you well?"
Intugu nodded, a haze of lust in his eyes. William wasn't sure the question even registered.
"You well?" Intugu's stubborn resistance to learning the Human language had left him with a rather rudimentary grasp of it. But he made his meaning clear as he moved his hands up and down William's arms and chest, obviously searching for wounds.
"Just this. Otherwise, yes." William lifted his leg to reveal his ankle. He grabbed for those roving hands and held them tightly, needing to assure himself of Intugu's real, physical presence. Intugu pulled away though, to proceed with a thorough inspection of William's ankle, shaking his head and making little clicking noises with his tongue.
He reached for the canteen again, poured water over the wound and then sniffed at it, pulling his head back with a snarl and a grimace. "Bad!"
William nodded. "I know." And at that moment, he didn't really give a damn about his ankle. Or anything else besides Intugu.
Grabbing William's pack, Intugu upended it and emptied the contents onto the ground. He picked up each item, looking from it to William's ankle and frowning, as if to say this will not help at all! He replaced the motley assortment of found treasures quickly, tossing them back into the pack. Intugu sighed and shook his head.
"It'll be fine, really," William assured him. "I've come this far on it. A little longer isn't going to matter." At least, he hoped not. Though he could smell the damned thing now, where he hadn't been really able to before. The way Intugu kept staring at his ankle, with that furrowed brow and those pursed lips, didn't help.
But Intugu held up a hand and shook his head again. He stood and walked back down the path, then disappeared into the brush.
"Where are you going?" William called out. Damn that man.
Intugu returned with a triumphant smile and a handful of leaves. He cupped his free hand out before him, catching raindrops, and used the water to wash off the leaves. Stuffing the leaves into his mouth, he picked up William's pack again and pulled out the knife and rope as he chewed absently. He cut two lengths off the rope and put the rest back in the pack. "Don't move," he mumbled around a mouthful.
William gasped and held as still as he possibly could as Intugu used the knife to pick away at the dried blood and scabbing flesh on his ankle. In a perfect world, he'd have preferred the knife had been cleaned first, but Torn was far from perfect, and any little bit helped, he supposed.
Intugu spit the leaf mush out into his hand and spread it gently on William's wound. Then he cut the left sleeve of his tunic away and wrapped it around William's ankle, tied the rope around it to keep it secure. "There."
William smiled despite the situation, for Intugu did seem ever so proud of himself, and whatever he'd chewed up just might make the difference. Or it might not, but William wasn't sure how much he cared. "Thank you."
Intugu sat back on his knees—stared at William for the space of a second, head cocked and eyes narrowed—and then pounced once again. I'm not clean. It's raining. We're in the open. People might see. We're not safe here. All the logical objections sprang to William's mind, but never passed his lips. This was his Intugu—alive and whole—and nothing else mattered. Hot lust flooded through him and his cock jerked. Even near death, he was certain he could—and would—rise to the occasion for Intugu.
Intugu tore at William's clothing impatiently, as if replacing it were no larger a matter than simply buying new ones. Despite William's attempts to slow him, Intugu pressed on, getting them both naked below the waist. He settled himself between William's legs and took William's cock in his hand, began to work it with long, slow, tight strokes that had William breathless and writhing. William let out a yelp as he opened his legs wider instinctually, accidentally bumping his ankle on a rock and subjecting himself to a searing bone-deep pain. Intugu reached back and laid his hand on William's leg, holding it down firmly as he continued his ministrations with his other hand.
And then he lowered his head and William thrust up into the sweet, blissful moist heat of his mouth. Although there was nothing necessarily soft or slow about Intugu's lovemaking—men like him took what they could when they could, and thought nothing of sweet platitudes, and William understood and agreed with that—there was a certain amount of regard to it. He saw to William's pleasure first, and if he wasn't careful, he was at least thorough. He knew how to pleasure a man, knew what touch felt good no matter the mentality of the one on the receiving end, had always known how to bring William's high-and-mighty arrogance crashing down in a heap of begging and pleading for more.
And William did beg and plead, in quiet, hushed words, his voice ragged and hoarse from days of a throat drier than should've been possible. He gagged and coughed on his own words, but Intugu seemed to take no mind of it, kept up his stroking and licking, sucking and pulling. William kept thrusting, unwilling to admit defeat, that the very act of responding to Intugu sapped his strength and left him feeling near lifeless.
Head heavy and thoughts scattered, he closed his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip to keep the scream of orgasm at bay. Intugu swallowed, the sounds of his greedy consumption reaching William's ears and making him grin. That grin dissolved, though, as Intugu's spit-slicked cock filled him quickly, starting a hard, fast rhythm at once. Intugu hunkered down over William and fucked him like a man possessed, hands clawing into the ground beside them for leverage.
William lay unmoving, though not uninterested, simply unable to coax his wrung out body into anything more than a vessel for Intugu's passion. But that was enough, was good beyond measure. He whispered harsh words, urging Intugu on, saw the feral glow of lust flame to life in the depths of Intugu's eyes and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he could never, ever live without this man—this native who so wholly consumed his soul. Although they admittedly spoke barely ten sentences to each other in any given day.
Intugu reared back, bunched muscles standing out against his smooth skin. He shook his head from side to side, slinging rainwater, as if to deny the intensity of what he felt, or to question his own ability to feel it. William sighed as Intugu fisted a hand in his shirtfront and hauled him up by it, stealing another long, hard kiss.
Intugu broke the kiss with a heaving gasp and nodded. "We go to temple."
"It still stands?"
Another nod, and a look of incredulity, eyebrows arched, as if the thought of the temple not standing after The Great Anger was somehow more far-fetched. "Temple stands."
"All right then." William stood with Intugu's help and they fumbled with their clothing, bumping into each other on purpose more than accidentally, if either of them were to admit it, needing to convince themselves of the other's existence. At length they were ready, and Intugu slipped an arm around William's waist; William slung his own over Intugu's shoulders.
"Temple?"
William nodded. "Temple."
"Weyom." Intugu pressed a lingering kiss to William's forehead and William sighed with contentment. It seemed an alien thing to feel, in the midst of chaotic disaster, with a wound that could very well cost him his foot, if not his entire leg, depending upon what they found at the temple. But standing there, Intugu's warm, solid body pressed against him, Intugu's strong, powerful arm around him, William knew somehow they'd be all right. He took a step forward, but turned and frowned. Intugu hadn't moved—stood looking up at him, clinging to him.
Intugu reached out hesitantly and pressed his hand to William's chest, over William's heart. "Love," he whispered.
William swallowed hard and nodded, suddenly realizing that there did in fact exist one thing that neither he, nor indeed anyone or anything—not even Torn—could conquer, bend, or convert. "Love."
~The End~
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