After

Forsaken

Smoke had been walking for hours and yet the grasslands continued out in front of him for as far as the eye could see. The land seemed to roll and slope so gently he could barely perceive it. Looking to the south, the horizon was so far away as to fade into another dimension. A ghost copy of the terrain around him. To the north it broke away nearby, a horizon that was easily within reach. It was visible, the shape of the land, if one only looked. The way it sloped from northwest to southeast, the region falling toward the waters of Mississippi Bay down to the Dead Gulf.  It was obvious now, for he had been looking for three days since there was nothing to distract him.

Smoke had not always been alone. For his entire life he traveled with the clan. There wasn’t many of them, only fifteen in the beginning. But they had been his family, the whole of humanity as far as he was concerned. But seven days ago, they had been ambushed. Another clan had attacked them in the early morning hours just as darkness began to fade away. They lost a lot of provisions and worse, three of their clan. For him, it was devastating, for he had already lost his mother to illness a year ago, then his father in the attack. And he lost Sky, who had been his companion since a very young child, the two of the growing up together. In his grief, he didn’t think of the consequences. The way his own clan would view him. He was still young but considered a man. And as such, a threat to the other men in the clan. Someone who could take their wives or exert dominance with his youthful strength. He had not considered any of these factors. It was something he wouldn’t want if he had considered it. But three days ago, he awoke alone, left at the camp by those he had considered family.

The clan had brought out the ferment, made a celebration of life, his father, Sky and Jorge, and those that were still alive. They had gotten him drunk, and while he slept, they packed up and left. He knew where they were heading, the direction his father had warned them not to go, especially this time of year with the Harvest Moon approaching. There was little to harvest, most crops destroyed during the droughts, then the wars. But the moon was still a mark to take note. It signaled the arrival of the cold winds from the north, winds that could freeze a man in minutes if caught out in it. He had even argued with the elders about going north, repeating what his father had warned. But they believed they could beat the cold winds, and make it to the old city, one of the few remaining.

Smoke feared they would not make it, and now that he was alone, he was heading east. It was a race against time, but if he could make the Plachian Mountains, get to the eastern section where rumors by travelers said some still had trees and other vegetation, he could find shelter in a cave or abandoned structure and ride out the winter. And maybe he could find a place to settle down and stop the wanderings as his old clan had done on the grass plains. The cold would last only one or two moons and the temperatures would rise back to normal, somewhere in the mid-nineties, then later above a hundred and those mountains held promise of a more temperate climate. He just had to get there.

A Savage Heart

 Leaf flowed through the stunted trees of the mountain woodland. He moved silently, without disturbance. He wasn’t separate from the nature of the mountain; he was part of it. Had been for as long as he could remember. There were times he had flashbacks of a woman, hovering over him, holding him when he was crying or lying on the bank of a creek, lips blue, shivering from illness. He knew she was probably his mother, but he couldn’t be sure. But whoever the woman had been, she was gone, had been for a long time. It had been a small group of scavengers that raised him, making him slave to their whims. He tolerated their abuse, helping to trap game and dig for roots or search for fruit or nuts. He considered it his lot in life, until one night one of the men wanted to take out his frustrations on him. He had taken the first few punches, till he couldn’t endure another. There had been a rock lying close and he had picked it up and hit the man in the head knocking him to the ground, and he continued to hit him till only a lifeless body lay beneath him. Then he ran.

Leaf carried the spear at his side, using the tip to push back small shrubs or vine as he made his way around the mountain. There were rabbits nearby. He’s seen the signs. Round pellets of dung and the chewed down shoots of tender young plants that had just taken root. It’d been a week since he had meat, subsisting on berries and root plants. He had been afraid to hunt or to build a fire.

A famille had been passing through the valley below, heading south. It wasn’t unusual during the red season, when the tree leaves changed, then dropped off to the ground. Everyone knew afterward came the cold winds with brutal drops in temperatures. For Leaf, he considered famille a danger, a threat to his existence. He hid from them as he did all others, staying up on the mountain, reworking the vine that grew at the cave’s entrance in order to conceal it from anyone who happen to come over the mountain. He knew how long it would take a group to travel through, having followed many of them in the past. With the discovery of a new group passing through, he shifted to sleeping during the day, coming out only at first light or just after dark.

Leaf spent most of his days exploring the region, canvassing the mountains for food, animals, and caves he could explore. He waded across streams wondering if fish would ever come back into them, something he’d never seen and began to doubt he would. He climbed up rock formations till at some ledge or peak he would sit for hours just looking at the horizon, wondering how far it stretched out in front of him. When the Sap Moon appeared, he would go down into the valley to the east, where an abundance of wildflowers made it the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He never tired to sitting on a ledge overlooking the valley or going down and lying in the middle of it, wildflowers hanging over his prone body with the blue sky above.

But it was late in the cycles of the moon, the long days gone with only their heat remaining. It was the Red Moon, and the leaves began to fall from the trees. It wouldn’t be long before the first cold winds blew from the north. It was safe now to smoke meats, lay up roots and nuts, and gather extra wood for burning. The hides he had sewn together would need to be hung over the cave entrance and the timber frame set up over it in case it snowed. But the first task was meat, something he could smoke and have during winter.

He ducked under a fallen tree and eased out to the edge of woods that lined half of the mountain side. He scanned the grassy slope for movement. There was a shift in color, the dart of brown through the fading green and he raised his spear while easing forward.

Finding a Path

For days Smoke made his way through a mountain region that was the bleakest place he had ever seen. The mountains were devoid of life. They were a dull gray for as far as the eye could see. The first day he had come upon them he wondered how they could be so consistent in color, and so lifeless. That night, lying on the ground at a rock formation, he caught the burnt scent emitting from the ground. He fingered the dry soil and found the top layer was a mixture of dirt and ash.

On a particularly hot day, the sun behind him, low on the horizon, Smoke reached a ridgeline. He stood shocked, for below him and in ribbons over the next mountains, was colors he’d never seen before. Reds, oranges, yellows, mixed with umbers to make for a scene he could never have imagined. He stood for a long time just staring at this explosion of color.

By that night Smoke was down in the valley camped next to a few trees, their canopies barely above his head. Compared to the dead trunks of the west, they looked more like shrubs than trees. But no trees currently growing seemed to reach the stature of the old that only dead trunks remained.

The next morning, Smoke set out again, continuing eastward, which he would do for days, till he came to mountains that were closer together, the valleys narrow, in places only a creek bed in width. He pushed through the underbrush and trees till he finally came into a larger valley. A river flowed down the middle and signs of the old civilization were everywhere. There were concrete pillars that rose above the ground and along their path, broken into pieces, lay thick slabs of concrete. There were a few walls of old buildings, but for the most part is was vine, grasses and other plants that stretched from mountain to mountain. He  eased through the remains looking for a place to cross the river. Getting into the water was dangerous, for he could smell the toxic nature of the churning brown and green waters.

Smoke walked for half a day before he found a place he could cross, where an old bridge lay across the river with enough sections above the waterline to afford him passage. On the other side he surveyed the tree line, wondering where he should enter it to make one more climb. How far he intended to go, he had no idea, but staying near the old places was dangerous. Too many scavengers still about.  

Smoke traveled for two more days, legs burning from his exertions. He found small streams up on the mountains allowing him to refill his leather botas and enough small game to sate his hunger pains. He began to survey the mountains, looking for a suitable place to set up. He found one cave but tracks at its entry caused him to move on.

In another valley, this one narrow and grown up with grasses, he stumbled upon two women sitting around a campfire. His first reaction was to give a greeting, but he saw the looks, and knew he needed to escape from there. He backed up apologizing for his intrusion, then when he thought it safe, he turned and began to run. He never saw the men of the camp, or the one aiming a spear at him as he ran. Only tumbling to the ground in excruciating pain, then seeing the spear piercing his thigh made him fully aware of his situation. He struggled to breathe through the pain. Sweat beaded up on his face and he fell back, eyes closed, blinded by severity of it. He heard voices coming toward him, the blocking of the sun from his face and just before passing out, he felt them take his botas filled with water, then the tug of his satchel as they pulled it over his head.

An Accord

Leaf was down the mountain searching for rabbit or other game when he saw a group of men moving through the narrow valley. He was in a concealed place, behind a rock formation and a clump of small trees, so he eased down on knees to watch them pass. They were quiet, walking with heads down except for the person in the lead. When they passed, he eased up and quietly followed them, staying up on the mountain.

After rounding a rock formation, he saw smoke from a small campfire and knew the men were heading toward it. The men were still some distance from it when he saw the camp beyond, with others sitting around the fire. As they approached, another man came into the camp. At first Leaf assumed it was another of their party. Then he saw the man run.

Everything happened so fast after that, with the pursuit and the one running going down after a spear hit him. Leaf watched the famille gather around him knowing they were taking anything of value. He eased down, hidden from sight and waited. It seemed to be such a long time, but eventually the famille was gone. They took what they wanted from their victim and headed south, even leaving their campfire burning. When he felt it was safe, he raced back to their camp and extinguished the fire then went back to where their victim lay.

Leaf found the man laying on his back, a broken spear protruding from the right thigh. Blood oozed from around it. Stooping he saw the man was breathing roughly, obvious in pain. Eyes fluttered open, and a hand grabbed him by the wrist.

“H-h-h-elp me.”

Fallen back, the man passed out. Leaf looked around at the satchel that had a few effects scattered around it, but there was no food or water and he knew what the famille valued, the thing everyone so desperately sought. He picked up everything, tossing it back into the satchel and slung it over his shoulder. Then he lay on the ground next to the man. He took one arm and pulled it over his body and rotated the two of them on their sides. He rotated to his stomach bringing the unconscious man onto his back. He rose on unsteady legs till standing, the man on his back, and headed up the side of the mountain. Why he was helping this man, he didn’t know, but there was something in the way he had been traveling alone, and there was the clothing, so different from his own animal hides. It was some sort of fabric, rough against the skin. A robe of some type, that hung down to mid-thigh with openings for head and arms. And there the man’s looks, with the black hair and skin tone so much darker than his own. He’d seen it before when he had seen the First People to the east. The same dark hair and skin tone, but their clothing was more like his own, and this man had come from the west.

The man was about his own age, maybe a little older, and about his own size, which made carrying him up the mountain difficult. He had to stop several times to rest and nearly fell at one point. He reached his camp just as the sun dropped below the western ridgeline and carried the man into the cave, lighting the torches secured to the walls. He rarely used them, for they were hard to make with so little animal fat to work with. He usually retired for the night if a Dark Moon or stayed out on the mountain under the light of the Sun Moon and the stars that surrounded it. There wasn’t much he could do for the wound, rumors of great medicines from the past just tall tales, for all he had was the fermented berries and root, the liquid strong to the nose, but one that stopped the reddening of wounds.

The leather bota of hooch in hand, he wondered how to remove the spear. He ran a finger around the penetration, feeling the swelling that was occurring. The touching of the wound caused the man to stir, to sit up, sweat pouring form his face. He looked pale and was shivering.

“You have to get it out” said the man, slurring his words. “Take it out and sew up the wound.”

“Sew it up?” asked Leaf, as he considered the large bone needles used to sew leather, knowing he could not use that on the man’s leg.

“In my…” the man struggling to talk, pointed at his satchel, “did they leave them?”

Leaf wasn’t sure what he meant, but he pulled the satchel close and watched as the man fumble through it. It was a small square of letter that the man pulled out and when opened Leaf saw it held thin metal needles. And beside them was some sort of thread, so much thinner than anything he had ever seen before.

“Use this” said the man as he held out the small leather pouch. When Leaf took it, the man lay back and closed his eyes, falling into unconsciousness again.

Not wanting to get further blood on the man’s robe, he worked it up till around the waist. Underneath there was a wrap around his manhood, the fabric different from the robe, finer, softer to the touch, which he dared to do along the side of the man’s hip. All he had was animal skins and they were heavy, hot in the heat of the day, so the man’s clothing intrigued him. He fingered the robe again, feeling the course fabric and realized it was some sort of grass or other plant material. The man stirred, moaned in his sleep and Leaf knew he had to get the spear out. But he was afraid, the whole idea of sewing it up scared him. The pushing a needle through living flesh.

He poured the hooch over the wound and the man cried out in his sleep, then he grasped the broken spear and pulled.

 The night was going to be cold, and Leaf built up the fire at the cave’s entry. It was larger than normal, throwing off its heat till the cave began to feel warm. He’d positioned the man nearby, close enough to feel the heat of the fire. He knew the sweat on the man’s face wasn’t from being too hot, but from the fever of sickness, the violation of the body by that spear. He wiped at his face then sat next to him, watching him sleep.

“Who are you?” Leaf whispered aloud.

Leaf checked the wound again, seeing the red around the crude stitching, but the bleeding had stopped. He sat by the man, knees up resting his head on them and watched him sleep. It had been so long since he had been this close to another. It had been dangerous to bring this stranger to his camp. He could be a scavenger, someone who was violent, cruel in their search for provisions. But he couldn’t see it, not in the face of this sleeping man. He reached out and brushed the black hair from the man’s forehead, feeling the silky smoothness of it slide through his fingers.

Leaf looked at the thin eyebrows that arched gently over each eye, the way the nose hooked then angled straight to the tip of it and below, the thin lips. His eyes followed the line of the man’s jaw, from the prominent chin and back to the point where it ended at the neck, then  upward to the ear, partially concealed by hair. There was a small bone hanging from it, held in place by a small metal hoop through the lobe. ‘Where did he get this fine metal?’ Leaf wondered as he fingered the small bone feeling the smoothness of its surface. He had heard of the metal used for so much in old times, but it was gone, returned to its earthly origins. The man had come from the west, and he wondered if out beyond the Ash Mountains, people still had metal to make things.

Head back on his knees, Leaf watched the man’s stomach rise and fall as he slept. He watched the man’s face, so solemn and peaceful in sleep. The light of the fire died down, grew dimmer and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

 Leaf woke, lying on his side near the man. He saw the sweat on his brow and how wet the hair looked. It was the fever still holding the man down. He sat up and saw the light of early morning filtering through the tree canopy and the vine over the cave entrance. His stomach growled in hunger, but his first task was to get the fire going again. The cave was cold, and he knew that was bad for the wounded stranger.

Fire stroked up, Leaf pulled out some dried fruit and nuts, then cut up a root for boiling. Once he had the root softened and the nuts chopped up, he mixed everything together and went to the still form by the fire.

“You need to eat something” said Leaf and he gently shook the man awake. Eyes fluttered open, then looked up at him. Slowly, recognition came to the man and he eased up in a sitting position.

Leaf watched him inspect the wound, a finger tracing over the crude stitches making him want to make excuses about how he didn’t know how to sew up living flesh. The man looked up and smiled.

“Not bad. It should heal with only a little scare.”

“I’ve never sewn someone up like that before.”

“I’ve only watched it. My father knew how to do it.”

“Your father?”

“Yes...he’s gone, now.”

Leaf knew by the man’s expression that he meant his father was dead. He spooned half of the mash into a wooden bowl and held it out to the man.

“Thanks. I’m starving.”

They ate in silence, Leaf glancing up at this stranger he had allowed in his camp. He had so many questions, but afraid to ask even just one. Instead he focused on eating and once finished took their bowls outside to rinse clean and lay out to dry. He came back in and stroked up the fire again and eased down opposite the man who was watching his every move.

“Does it still hurt?” asked Leaf.

“Yes, and I’m afraid it will for some time.”

“I have no medicine, not like the First People use.”

“Frist People?”

“They live to the east, and…look like you.”

The man nodded that he understood.

“Did you come from the east? Your clothing doesn’t look like what they wear but you have the same features.”

“No. I came from the far west, out beyond the grasslands.”

“Grasslands?”

“Yes, the area beyond those burnt mountains.”

“Beyond Ash Mountains? You came from west of them?”

“Yes, over a moon’s cycle.”

It was unfathomable to Leaf, the distance the man referred, and it was beyond the Ash Mountains, a region no one could survive in. He saw the man struggling to keep his eyes open, sleep trying to overtake him again.

“Before you go back to sleep, what is your name?”

“I’m Smoke, the Son of Miguel. What is your name.”

“I’m Leaf.”

Smoke smiled at the familiar naming, one taken from the natural world. “Did your father give you this name?”

“I never knew my parents. I was raised by others who gave me a derogatory name, and Leaf is the name I gave myself.”

“It is a nice name. Leaf” said Smoke, repeating it slowly. He settled back, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

It was late in the day, Leaf having stayed close all day, afraid to leave Smoke alone. He worried something would happen, that Smoke would need him. He worried someone could come up on the mountain, see the smoke of the fire he kept burning and discover Smoke asleep. But he worried more that Smoke may wake while he was gone and leave. He didn’t understand why he felt this way, this desire for Smoke not to leave him. For years, he had lived alone on the mountain and assumed it would be thus for the rest of his life. After bringing Smoke up the mountain, doing the removal of the spear and sewing up the wound, he felt some attachment to the him. He wanted Smoke to remain with him, without understanding the root cause of this desire. He just felt it, this knot in his stomach when he gave thought to Smoke getting better and leaving the mountain. And in turn, leaving him.

Looking out through the vine Leaf saw the lengthening shadows, the end of daylight fast approaching. Then he saw a squirrel dart across the ground. He eased to his pile of possessions retrieving the small sling. He picked up a suitable rock and eased to the mouth of the cave. The squirrel moved up a tree and stopped about shoulder height. Stepping slowly, he slipped through the vine and into the open. The squirrel’s tail shook, and he knew it was watching him, ready to bolt up into the canopy of the tree. The rock in the small pouch, he raised his arm and using his wrist, he twirled it around, picking up speed till he had the feel of it, the balance in its trajectory, then he let one cord go sending the stone flying out.

Darkness arrived on the mountain; the sky so clear it was brilliant with starlight. The fire was burning evenly under a clay pot, the stew inside simmering in a slow boil. Root and meat rolled to the surface and fell back into the thickening stew and its aroma filled the cave. Leaf sat next to Smoke, worried by the sweat that continued to bead up on his forehead. Smoke mumbled in his sleep while shifting fitfully on the ground. Leaf laid a hand on his forehead and felt the heat of the fever and saw how the robe was wet with sweat around the upper chest.

He gathered a couple of hides, ones he was preparing to cut into clothing and laid them by Smoke. He heated some water then prepared to bathe him. He worked at sliding the robe upward, turning Smoke to one side them the next, getting the robe shifted up the long lean body till he was able to pull it over Smoke’s head. With Smoke laying naked except for that small cloth around the waist, he cupped handful of warm water after the next and rubbed it over Smoke’s body. He started with his face, neck and hair. He worked his fingers through the soft hair then rubbed them down the long neck. He cupped water onto Smoke’s chest and stomach, then raked his hands through it, removing the dirt and grime from Smoke’s long travels. The skin became smooth to the touch, the color returning to it as he worked more and more grime from it. He continued downward, till his fingers grazed along the cloth, felt its soft smoothness, which felt the same as Smoke’s skin. He looked at the cloth and the way it bulged, wondering if what was inside was the same as his own. He remembered how the men who had kept him before were different. Differences in length and thicknesses, even skin tones. Some were red against fair white skin, some were the same tone and others were darker, a deep brown tone that stood out. At the time he didn’t care what one looked like versus another. He didn’t care how they looked when excited, having their way with one of the women. But that was years ago, and over the last few years he felt his own sex. The way it felt when he was aroused. It was so thick and enlarged in the mornings it almost pained him. He had to leave it alone to get it to go down. He found himself wet some mornings, white or clean liquid smeared around the head. Looking at the bulge within the cloth, he wondered if Smoke was excited. Was his cock like rock, stretched out longer and thicker? Did it leak like his own?

Leaf wanted to remove the cloth. He wanted to see Smoke’s cock but felt it was wrong, as if his intentions had an evil nature to them. He shifted over and skipped past the cloth and began to clean each leg. He slid his hands over the smooth skin feeling the muscular nature of each leg. The strength of each that could carry a man from so great a distance, one he couldn’t image. When finished, he stroked the fire up, got it burning hotly and watched the water evaporate from Smoke’s skin. He found himself staring at the sleeping form, looking with a longing he couldn’t name. He rubbed his hands together while reflecting on the smoothness of Smoke’s skin. There was the firmness beneath that skin, the muscular body, lean and strong from the long travels it had endured. He wanted to touch Smoke again. He wanted to feel this body. He felt a stirring that scared him, embarrassed how he was reacting.

Jumping up, Leaf went to the rolls of animal skins he had sewn together. There had been several foxes and so many rabbits he lost count. He brought two over to Smoke and with one unrolled he got Smoke to sleepily move over on it. Then he covered him with the other. He knew the soft fur would be a comfort, especially after wearing the coarse robe. Gathering up another roll of hides, these pieced together for the cave opening, he hung them up to cut the chilly night air from blowing in. Back by the fire, he eased down next to Smoke on the ground, head resting on an arm. So many questions about this stranger he fatigued himself in considering each one. The fire burned lazily, flames rising above the sleeping form as he watched him sleep. Finally, fatigue overcame him, and unable to hold his eyes open, he drifted off.

An Awakening

Leaf woke cocooned in warmth. He felt the heat of another body against him and the soft fur of the hides that surrounded them. Opening his eyes slowly, he found himself looking toward the back of the cave. The air was cold, and a soft morning light was filtering in through the vine and gaps around the hides hung at the entrance. An arm lay over his body, and he realized how snuggled up to his back Smoke lay. He was confused as to how he came to be next to him under the cover of the hides. He had intended to stay in the open letting the chill wake him to stroke up the fire when it needed it.

Easing Smoke’s arm back over his body, he slid away and came up on his knees. Smoke was sound asleep, hair matted and messed up, and Leaf smiled at the appearance of such innocence. But he knew Smoke was more aware of the world, more experienced, and in truth, he was the innocent. He pushed Smoke’s hair back wondering about his secrets.

Smoke stirred and slowly opened his eyes, eventually focusing on him.

“Hey; you’re up” said Smoke.

“So are you. Do you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Let me get you something to eat” replied Leaf as he stood. At the cave wall he pulled out dried meat and nuts. “I need to hunt again but this will settle your cravings.”

“Thanks” replied Smoke, sitting up to eat.

Leaf sat on the ground and watched Smoke eat, waiting patiently for him to finish. Smoke ate slowly, taking small bites, till finally consuming everything.

“Smoke…I woke under the hides this morning and…” Leaf began to ask then hesitated.

“I pulled you over. I woke during the night to you laying there shivering. I could hear your teeth chattering.”

“Oh.”

“Plus, it was warmer to have someone next to me” Smoke added, smiling at Leaf, making him feel uncomfortable.

“I’m going to go hunt for some fresh game. You rest” said Leaf as he stood up abruptly and headed out.

Leaf held his spear parallel with the ground as he made his way around the mountain and down into the valley on the eastern side. The valley of wildflowers he had enjoyed each Sap Moon. It had small trees scattered around it with the tall grasses and wildflowers between them. He eased around the perimeter while scanning the grass for any movement.

He really did need to find fresh meat, for his dried meat supply was for winter, but he also needed to get away from Smoke to think. He felt so confused when around him. Some longing he couldn’t name. It made him realize how alone he had been, and how much he wanted someone else for the companionship it afforded.

Taking a break, Leaf sat on a rock formation at the edge of the tree line. The memory of Smoke’s arm around his torso rose vivid in his imagination. There was even a memory sensation of touch. Even now, it felt as if Smoke were holding him. He grew aroused, embarrassingly erect. He didn’t understand how someone who was a man could have this impact on him. The hide around his waist tented with his erection. Looking around to make sure he was alone and safe, he slipped out of his garments, feeling the warm sun on his body. Leaning back, legs dangling over the side of the rock, he touched himself, something he had not done since Smoke’s arrival. The hard shaft filled his hand and he stroked it till his hand was slick. Images of Smoke filled his mind, confusing him, all the while making him more aroused. It was a torment he didn’t know how to stop.

Closing his eyes, Leaf held his head back and stopped fighting with himself, letting the images of Smoke come to him. He saw the muscular body, the dark eyes that had watched him so intently and he saw the bulge of cock within that small fabric. He tensed up, the need for release building. Leaning up he watched the blur that was his hand then the thickening of his cock. He cried out as thick wads ejaculated from it, spattering him in the face, neck and down his chest. Spent, he lay back heaving for breath as the pools cooled and trickled over his sides. He wiped the cum off with leaves suddenly aware of the smell. Worrying Smoke would smell it later he wiped repeatedly at each puddle of it, then used some of his precious water to rinse the last of it off.

Leaf slipped his garments back on, picked up his spear and satchel and moved out into the valley, cutting across till he was under the canopy of one of trees, he scanned the grassland, eyes moving from one side to the other. He was about to move to another tree when he saw a rabbit dart to his left. He moved to follow.

The sun was nearing the western horizon by the time Leaf returned to the cave, with four rabbits and a fox hanging from his waist. He was going to cook two rabbits and smoke the rest. The mountain was quiet, only a gentle breeze through the trees broke the silence. He carefully approached, always worried someone would discover the cave while he was away. A thin plume of smoke swirled out of the cave at the top of the entry. At the mouth of the cave he looked in around the hides and saw Smoke was sitting up, stroking the fire.

“Oh wow, you had some luck” said Smoke as Leaf entered the cave.

“The valley to the east is less disturbed by travelers through the region. It’s more difficult to get into, so the wildlife is more abundant.”

Leaf retrieved his tools he’d need to dress his kill. A flat sharp rock he found in a creek, a bone sharpened to a point and a section of wood chiseled flat at one end. He knew compared to the metal needles Smoke had in his possession the tools were crude and primitive, but he had no metal to work with, all of it in the region rusted back into the earth. Slipping back out he went down to a rock formation near a sharp drop. The top of one section flat, giving him a good surface in which to work, and the vertical drop gave him a place to toss anything he didn’t save, letting the animals have it without disturbance to each other.

The meat he wanted to smoke was carried to a small shallow cave near the one he called home. He built a fire in a pit built in its floor, let it burn for some time, then smothered the flames with green wood and leaves getting it to smoke. The meat hung above, he covered the entrance with a hide trapping most of the heat and smoke. He’d have to check it regularly, adding wood to the fire. By the time he returned to the cave the smell of cooked rabbit filled its interior making him deeply aware of his hunger.

“I’ve got it ready” said Smoke pulling the meat from near the fire.

Darkness settled on the mountain and temperatures plummeted as a strong wind began to blow from the north. It swirled around the mountain and howled like an animal. The hides at the entrance fluttered, their loose edges whipping back and forth. Leaf brought more wood over to the fire and watched Smoke stroke it up till the flames were waist high. Even so, its warmth dissipated quickly in the cold. Smoke slipped under the hides and watched Leaf settle down near the fire opposite of him.

“What are you doing?” asked Smoke.

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t sleep over there; it’s too cold. Come get under the hide with me.”

“But I’ll disturb you and…”

“Leaf, we should share the hides, use our body heat to help keep us warm. Besides…” replied Smoke, hesitating to say what he wanted. He took a deep breath, looked across the fire. “Besides, I miss having someone sleep next to me. The comfort of another.”

“But I’m not a woman, I’m not your…”

“I don’t care about that.”

Leaf slowly got up, conflicted about what he was about to do. On one hand, he very much wanted to lie with Smoke. To feel that warmth of another. The intimacy of it that made him feel these urges he had never felt before. An emotion he didn’t understand, a craving he didn’t know he had till now. On the other, he was afraid of these feelings. And he was more afraid of letting Smoke discover he had them. A man reacting to another. It was a provocation that could ruin everything.

He eased to his knees and began to slip next to Smoke who was holding up the hides for him.

“Take off that hide and use it as additional cover. We’ll be warmer without it between us” said Smoke and it made Leaf hesitate once again. The idea of his upper body bare against Smoke’s was too much to contemplate. But obediently, without stopping to really think about it, he slipped off the large hide that hung over his shoulders and helped Smoke lay it over the others. For the second time in his life, he lay next to another.

Smoke didn’t hesitate to slip up next to his back, that arm from the night before coming around his chest. He felt Smoke’s hand rub along his arm till fingers were intertwined with his own pulling them close. For a few minutes they lay still with the crackle of burning wood and their steady breathing. Leaf moved his legs feeling them slide along Smoke’s. Then there were warm exhales against the back of his neck. A soft caressing of the skin below the hair. A soft whisper that took him a minute to comprehend the words spoken.

“…been so lonely. I miss her, and dad. I miss having someone being with me. Someone to give comfort to. Then you found me, doctored me, nursed me and…”

A kiss, soft, gentle, touched Leaf on the neck.

At first Leaf froze. He even held his breath as the kisses continued and the hand let his go and moved over his chest. The sensation of being touched by another was overwhelming. Something he had never known was so desperately desired. The hand moved down over his stomach into the small hide around his waist. It touched him and he reacted to it. Smoke pushed against his ass and he felt Smoke’s arousal. He felt the same growing hardness that he himself possessed. A hardness that was manipulated by fingers rubbing the head that slipped free of its hood. He shuddered from the touch and for a moment tried to pull away.

“Relax Leaf. It’s okay” Smoke’s voice whispered into Leaf’s ear, and he relaxed, let Smoke touch him, manipulate his cock till it was hard.

Smoke shifted behind him and two hands were tugging on the hide around his waist. He raised his hips letting Smoke slide it down his legs and off. Naked, he sensed Smoke’s body even more, how it too was naked, bare skin against bare skin. A chest against his back. A cock pressed against his ass. Legs intertwined, moving slowly against each other. Another kiss at the back of the neck.

“Can I put it in you?”

Smoke’s voice was dreamlike, a soft whisper that seemed to float in Leaf’s consciousness. It was as if the words came to him, not from Smoke’s lips, but from somewhere within his own mind. Without considering what it really meant he rolled over onto his stomach with Smoke following him, moving over his body. He felt the weight of Smoke, the warmth of their contact. He felt the probing of his ass as Smoke pumped between his cheeks, the thick cock slipping down between them. He felt hands pull his cheeks apart and that cock rub along his ass touching him in a way he didn’t think he could endure. He shivered from the contact, moaned into the soft fur beneath him. He pushed up against Smoke, encouragingly, wanting Smoke to do more.

Smoke penetrated him slowly, but he still felt the painful stretch. An arm around his neck and lips touching his neck, the side of his face then tugging on his ear were a foil to the pain. A distraction that let him endure it, till he was pushing back to take more of Smoke inside of his body. He opened to Smoke, felt the slow penetration that gave him a sense of completeness. A connection to another human being. An intimacy he had never dared consider. He clutched at the fur, pushed up to meet the inward pushes and turned his head to kiss Smoke on the lips. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he felt a joy never dared imagined. This intimacy, sexual in nature, but so much more. Smoke moved within him, deep penetrations, then the tug outward leaving him feeling empty. A cycle that aroused him, made him feel his own sex. His cock pushed into the soft fur making it so hard he ached for release.

“Do it faster…faster, Smoke…faster” Leaf pleaded between gasps for breath.

Smoke ground hips against Leaf’s ass, pushed inward as far as he could then rose on his hands and began to piston in Leaf’s hole faster, harder, till moans and cries echoed in the cave. They were primeval, their basest instincts in control. Leaf didn’t understand his own body, how it could react to such ministrations. He shuddered as Smoke smacked against his ass with every push inward. He grabbed Smoke’s wrists and hung on to them as he pushed up. Anything to increase the sensations of Smoke inside his body. He felt his own need. The surge through his body of imminent release. He cried out as his cock flexed with each ejaculation. He pushed through the warm cum making him more aroused. He couldn’t stop, not as long as Smoke was moving inside his body.

Smoke shoved inward hard, hips pressed against his ass, pinning him to the floor. He felt the shuddering body against him,  and the cry of release. He felt the flex of cock inside him as it filled his hole.

Leaf rose from unconscious sleep slowly at first. A vague sense of awareness. Lying on the ground on a soft fur, positioned on his back. Then he became aware of the heat he felt. That radiating from a fire pushing back the cold of the room. And a wet heat that made him aroused. It moved on his cock and a new awareness came to him instantly. Smoke was down between his legs. Arms were draped over his thighs, and bare torso lay between his legs. He felt the shifts and moves of the body as lips moved up and down his cock. He opened his eyes and stared up at the dimly lit rock above. At first afraid to move, he slowly raised his head and watched jet black hair move over his cock.

Smoke must have sensed Leaf was awake, for he lifted his head and looked back. He smiled as hands moved up and down each thigh. Then he leaned down and kissed Leaf’s abdomen.

“Smoke…”

“Hey…you okay?”

Leaf nodded his head. He watched Smoke sit up then move over his waist. He felt the rub of ass over his cock. Smoke rocked his hips back and forth till he let a moan escape from deep within his chest. He didn’t know where Smoke was leading him, but he would do nothing to stop him. Smoke eased up on his knees while reaching back taking Leaf in hand. Fingers rubbed the head, then held firmly to the shaft.

“Don’t move; let me do it. Okay?”

Leaf nodded his head. Watching intently, the slow move down, he felt the press down on his cock, then a squeeze on the head that made him gasp, struggling not to push on through it. The tightness gripped the head, squeezed it till he felt it flex with his arousal. He wanted more, so much more. He put each hand on Smoke’s thighs and squeezed them as he felt the tightness slide down the shaft, squeezing every inch that slid through it.

“Ohhh” Smoke uttered as he sat down all the way.

Leaf looked at Smoke wondering how everything became so sexual. How something like this could happen, him having sex with another man? But there was the feel of it, the mere pleasure derived from it. And there was this connection forged between them. He wanted it. Whatever Smoke wanted he was willing. This intimacy showed him how alone he had been.

Smoke raised up then eased back down. He moved slowly, so slow Leaf felt the tightness move along his cock. Each inch that got squeezed through Smoke, he felt. It milked his cock, made him feel more aroused. After a painfully long time, Smoke began to move in a steady rhythm, up and down, riding his cock. He wanted to push in deeper. Sitting up he bearhugged their bodies together, Smoke’s sweaty chest rubbing against his own, as he rolled him over on his back. He fumbled into position, getting on his hands and knees, cock sunk into Smoke’s depths, and began to pump his hips. He drove into Smoke’s depths, pushed in harder and faster as his aroused state increased.

Hands touched his thighs, the fingers moving firmly over them and he looked down at the prone body beneath. Head thrown back, eyes closed, with small moans escaping the open mouth. He saw the person, this man named Smoke who came into his life, someone who needed him. He pushed inward thinking how much he needed Smoke.

The hands ran up his thighs and held firmly to each ass cheek, pulling for him to push inward.

“Leaf…please…” Smoke uttered, and Leaf knew what he wanted. An increase in rhythm that would push his own arousal. Leaf pumped his hips faster, their bodies smacking together. The sound of it echoed in the cave, along with Smoke’s cries.

Leaf couldn’t hold back, the sensations too much. It was all so new, the stimulation too great. He hammered his cock inside Smoke till he shuddered with release. He kept pumping his hips, pushing his spurting cock into the depths of Smoke’s hole till spent and unable to withstand further stimulation. He ground his hips against Smoke and lay on flat on him, kissing him on the lips. It was an intimacy he couldn’t speak of but was so desperate to demonstrate. He felt Smoke moving beneath him, hands holding his waist tightly as cock was ground into his stomach. Then he felt the flex against it, and warm cum pooling between them.

Living

Years passed without notice, only the seasonal markers demonstrating its passage. The mountain didn’t change. The trees grew, more plants took root, and animals came seeking food and refuge, but the mountain remained stable in a most unstable world.

Leaf and Smoke made it home, and with the aid of old tools found in a man-made cave on a nearby mountain, they were able to make improvements. They built stone walls across the front, one parallel to the other. They built a firebox on the inner one with a chimney and kept their heating and cooking fire out of the cave interior. They fashioned a sleeping platform, made better garments weaving grasses and other plant fibers together. Small trees and understory plants were planted around their site to further conceal it, for travelers passed more frequently through the valley below. A few years after Smoke’s arrival they saw smoke in the east and hiked over three mountain ridges to discover a small settlement. Wood structures arranged in a circle and a fenced area holding wild boar. They observed the settlers for much of the day, then hiked back to the mountain, more cautious of when they burned their own fire. They didn’t trust the others, and they didn’t want anyone to come between them. They knew the dangers of their world, and none were more dangerous than their fellow man.

There was a spring on the mountain that flowed clear and with more frequent rains it was a more reliable source for water. They used bamboo to pipe it closer to their cave, creating a pool on the side of the mountain for bathing, and the frolicking that always ensued.

And on calm days, the sun low in the west, they would sit on a rock that overlooked the west. They would watch the sun drop below the ridgelines of mountains while the sky went from blue to violet with yellow, orange then red brushed across the horizon. For Leaf and Smoke, it was everything, this passing of another day. It was life, one worth living for the two of them.