The beginning
Emil reached the riverbank first, kicking his worn shoes off with impatient movements. His toes sank into the mud with a surprisingly loud squish, cool between his toes after the heat of the path. A shiver of anticipation ran up his legs as he stepped deeper into the shallows.
"Come on," he urged, glancing back at Ben who followed more cautiously, testing the water with one foot before committing.
They sat close on the grassy bank, bare feet dangling in the water, shoulders pressed together. Emil's light brown curls stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat. The sun had deepened the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, turning them copper against his flushed skin. Each time Ben's arm brushed against his, Emil's pulse jumped, his body humming with awareness.
Ben leaned back on his elbows, glancing around the secluded spot. His blond hair caught the sunlight, turning it almost white at the tips. The chief's son always looked put-together, even now with his shirt rumpled and pants rolled up to his knees.
"You sure nobody comes here?" he asked, voice low with caution rather than intimacy.
"Nobody," Emil assured him, already shifting closer, watching Ben's throat as he swallowed. The vein there pulsed visibly under tanned skin. Emil wanted to press his mouth against it.
Ben hesitated, eyes scanning the trees one more time.
"Still sore from last time?"
Emil felt heat rise up his neck that had nothing to do with the sun. He shrugged, breaking eye contact.
"A little. Not your fault." The memory of their fumbling attempt at penetration three nights ago still made him wince—the initial sharp pain, Ben's panicked apologies, both of them left frustrated and unsatisfied.
"I'll go slower," Ben promised, voice dropping. His hand found Emil's thigh, resting there with tentative pressure.
"Or we could just... touch?"
The suggestion hung between them, disappointingly safe. Emil felt a flicker of frustration beneath his arousal. He wanted more—wanted Ben to push him down, hold him, take control. Instead of answering, he grabbed Ben's shirt and pulled him into a kiss.
Their mouths pressed hard together, Emil's eagerness making it almost hurt. Ben made a surprised sound before kissing back, his lips warm and clean, tasting like the mint leaves he'd been chewing. His hand squeezed Emil's thigh, fingers pressing in just enough to make Emil's cock start to harden.
Emil's fingers fumbled with his own shirt buttons, clumsy with urgency. One button popped off completely, landing somewhere in the grass. Ben laughed softly against his mouth.
"Let me," Ben murmured, brushing Emil's hands aside. His movements were more controlled, maddeningly slow as he undid each remaining button with deliberate care. Emil nearly whimpered with impatience.
When Ben finally pushed the shirt off Emil's shoulders, the air felt cool against his heated skin. His chest was narrow but defined from bakery work, skin pale except where sun had touched his collarbones and arms. His nipples hardened instantly, small and pink against his flesh. A scattering of freckles continued down from his shoulders to his chest, fainter but still visible.
Ben stared at him with undisguised appreciation. His fingers traced a freckle near Emil's collarbone, the touch sending electric shivers down Emil's spine.
"This one's new," he murmured.
Emil looked down, blood rushing to his face. The way Ben studied him—reverently, carefully—felt good but frustrating. He wanted to be claimed, not admired. The constant push-pull between what he craved and what Ben offered made his body tense with conflicting needs.
Unable to articulate these thoughts, Emil simply pushed his pants down to his knees and lay back on the grass, exposing himself completely. His cock already stood half-hard against his lower belly, thicker at the base and curving slightly upward, the head flushed dark pink and glistening at the tip. A trail of light brown hair led down from his navel, darkening around the base of his shaft.
He spread his legs wider than necessary, an unmistakable invitation. His heart pounded so hard he felt it in his throat.
Ben's eyes widened, pupils dilating as they raked over Emil's exposed body. He stood and pulled his own tunic off in a single smooth motion, revealing the athletic build that made half the village sigh when he passed. His body caught the sunlight perfectly—lean muscles defined across his chest and stomach, shoulders broad from swimming, skin evenly tanned without a farmer's harsh lines. When he pushed his pants down, his cock sprang free, longer than Emil's and straighter, rising proudly from neatly trimmed blond hair.
Ben knelt between Emil's legs, hands pushing his thighs farther apart. The position made Emil feel exposed in a way that excited him. Ben spat into his palm and stroked himself slowly, spreading the wetness along his big cock. "Tell me if it's too much, okay?" he asked, his voice deeper now with excitement.
Emil nodded, eyes fixed on Ben's cock, simultaneously wanting and fearing it inside him. His entrance tightened instinctively at the memory of their last attempt.
Ben guided the head of his cock against Emil's hole, positioning it carefully. The blunt pressure against the tight ring of muscle made Emil tense.
Ben pushed forward slightly, testing the resistance. Emil's breath hitched, his fingers digging into the grass beneath him.
"Relax," Ben whispered, though his own voice was strained with effort. "Just breathe."
He pushed again, harder this time. The pressure increased until Emil felt a sharp, burning stretch as the head began to breach him. A strangled sound escaped his throat, halfway between a gasp and a cry. His body jerked involuntarily, pulling away from the intrusion.
Ben stopped immediately, panting slightly.
"Fuck. Sorry. I'm hurting you."
"No, keep going," Emil insisted, though his eyes watered from the pain.
Ben shook his head, already withdrawing.
"Maybe not now." The disappointment in his voice matched the frustration coiling in Emil's gut.
"I don't want to tear you."
They stayed frozen for a moment, both breathing heavily, the moment broken. Ben sat back on his heels, his cock still rigid and wet at the tip.
He looked down at Emil's cock, still hard despite the pain.
"Can I finish you another way?"
Emil nodded, cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and desire. Another failure. Another time Ben had backed off instead of pushing through, instead of taking what Emil wanted him to take.
Ben wrapped his hand around Emil's shaft and stroked slowly, his grip firm but gentle. The skin slid smoothly under his palm. Emil bit his lower lip hard enough to hurt, teeth leaving marks in the soft flesh. His hips pushed up into Ben's hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.
After a moment of building pleasure, Emil reached for Ben's cock, determined to give as good as he got. Their hands moved in tandem, strokes matching rhythm, the only sounds their quickened breathing and the quiet lapping of the river at their feet.
Ben leaned over suddenly, dipping his cock into the water, rinsing it clean of spit and pre-cum. Water droplets caught the light as they rolled down his shaft. The sight made Emil's mouth water.
"Would you..." Ben started, then hesitated. "Could you suck it?"
The request sent a pulse of heat straight to Emil's groin. He nodded eagerly, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Ben stood on his knees, bringing his cock level with Emil's face.
Emil leaned forward, mouth already watering. He licked the head first, tasting river water and the salt of Ben's pre-cum beneath it. His lips parted, stretching around the width as he took the head into his mouth. The weight of it on his tongue made his own cock throb with renewed urgency.
Ben hissed, his hand coming to rest on the back of Emil's head. His fingers threaded through the brown curls, not pushing, just holding.
"Fuck, your mouth," he groaned.
Encouraged, Emil took more, sliding his lips down the shaft until he couldn't go further without gagging. He pulled back, sucking harder, then took Ben deeper again. Saliva gathered at the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his chin as he worked.
"Just like that," Ben panted above him.
"God, just like that."
Emil's curls bounced as he bobbed up and down, taking Ben's cock with increasing confidence. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the rhythm, the stretch of his lips, the heavy weight on his tongue. When Ben's shaft hit the back of his throat, he gagged once—pulled back quickly—then opened wider and tried again, determined to please him.
Ben's fingers tightened in his hair, the slight pain adding to Emil's arousal. His cock leaked against his stomach, untouched but desperate for contact.
Emil leaned lower, licking along the underside of Ben's shaft, then took one of his balls into his mouth, sucking gently. The skin was surprisingly soft against his tongue, tasting of clean sweat and river water. His hand continued stroking the base while his mouth explored.
Ben's stomach muscles contracted visibly. His grip in Emil's hair tightened to the point of real pain.
"I'm close—shit—Emil—" The warning was strained, urgent.
Emil brought his mouth back to the tip just as Ben's orgasm hit. The first hot splash landed on his tongue, the next across his parted lips and cheek. Ben kept coming, more than Emil expected, thick ropes painting his mouth, chin, and even eyelashes as he blinked in surprise.
He swallowed what had landed in his mouth, the bitter salt tang coating his throat. The rest he wiped with his fingers, smearing it across his cheek in the process. The evidence of Ben's pleasure on his skin felt like a mark of possession, making his cock throb painfully between his legs.
When he looked up, Ben was staring down at him, chest heaving, a dazed smile softening his features.
"You're fucking amazing," he breathed.
Emil smiled shyly, aware of how he must look—face messy with cum, lips swollen, eyes glazed with his own unfulfilled need. The compliment sent warmth spreading through his chest.
Ben dropped to his knees and kissed him deeply, seemingly unbothered by tasting himself on Emil's tongue. His hand found Emil's neglected cock, gripping it firmly.
"Your turn," he whispered against Emil's mouth.
He pushed Emil onto his back and stroked with purpose now, his grip tighter, thumb catching the sensitive spot just below the head on each upstroke. His other hand cupped Emil's balls, rolling them gently between his fingers.
Emil moaned, the sound torn from somewhere deep in his chest. His legs fell open wider, hips bucking into Ben's hand. The pleasure built rapidly, coiling tighter in his lower belly.
"Ben," he gasped, a warning and a plea. His entire body tensed, toes curling into the grass.
When he came, it crashed through him in waves. His cock pulsed in Ben's grip as cum spurted across his stomach and chest, some reaching as high as his collarbone.
The release was so intense it bordered on pain, drawing a strangled cry from his throat that echoed across the water.
Ben stroked him through it, only stopping when Emil grabbed his wrist, oversensitive. He leaned down and kissed Emil's shoulder, then his neck, then the corner of his mouth.
They lay back side by side, breathing gradually slowing, bodies cooling in the late afternoon air. The river continued its unhurried journey beside them, indifferent to their spent passion. A dragonfly hovered above the water before darting away.
"You're still coming tonight, right?" Ben asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
"My father's expecting you at the festival."
Emil nodded, his body still humming with aftershocks. Despite his satisfaction, a lingering emptiness remained—the knowledge that once again, they'd found release without Ben ever truly claiming him the way he craved.
Ben grinned and reached for his shirt, using a corner to wipe cum from Emil's skin. "My sister keeps asking about you."
Emil pulled up his pants, wincing slightly as the fabric scraped his sensitive cock. "She knows about us?"
"She suspects," Ben shrugged. "Doesn't matter. My parents like you."
When Emil bent to grab his shoes, his foot slipped on the muddy bank. He fell backward with a startled yelp, landing hard in a puddle of brown sludge. His back and ass were instantly soaked, cold mud seeping through his pants.
Ben burst out laughing, the sound echoing across the water. "You look like a fucking raccoon that fell in a pit!"
"Shut up," Emil muttered, trying to wipe his hands clean but only succeeding in smearing mud up his arms.
"Come to my place," Ben said, still laughing. "You can borrow something clean for tonight."
"Something without mud and cum would be nice," Emil said dryly.
Ben grinned and tossed him a clean cloth from his pocket. "Let's go. Wear my shirt to the festival. It'll look good on you."
Emil caught the cloth and began wiping mud from his arms, watching as Ben dressed. His eyes lingered on Ben's stomach, the way muscles shifted as he pulled his tunic back on. Something in Emil's expression must have revealed his thoughts.
"What?" Ben asked, catching his look.
Emil shook his head. "Nothing," he lied, unable to admit that despite what they'd just shared, he still wanted more—something Ben might never be able to give him.
* * *
Emil moved through the crowd with careful steps, painfully aware of the lingering soreness between his legs. His thighs rubbed together with each movement, a constant reminder of his failed attempt with Ben that afternoon. Ben's white shirt hung slightly too large on his frame, the expensive fabric soft against his skin, still carrying Ben's scent—soap, cedar, and something distinctly male. The fine-stitched family crest over the left breast marked Emil as something he wasn't, the red and gold threads catching firelight as he passed between bodies.
He needed to be alone, away from the constant pressure of pretending. Away from Ben's careful public distance. The revelry behind him—the laughter, the music, the displays of normalcy—felt suddenly suffocating.
The sounds of celebration now seemed to come from another world entirely, distant and irrelevant to the confusion churning inside him.
Something rustled behind him—not the natural movement of leaves in the breeze, but sharp and deliberate.
Before he could fully register the danger, a hand clamped hard over his mouth, fingers digging into his cheeks. Something damp and foul-smelling pressed against his face, covering his nose and mouth simultaneously. The cloth stank of chemicals and something sweeter, more sinister.
Emil inhaled reflexively—his body betraying him in its instinctive search for air. The effect was instantaneous. The chemical scent burned through his nasal passages and down into his lungs, igniting fire in his throat. His mind screamed warnings his body couldn't obey.
Then they lifted him—one man grabbing under his arms, another taking his legs. His body hung between them like a slaughtered animal, head lolling back, limbs swaying with each step as they carried him deeper into the forest, away from the festival, away from the village, away from everything familiar.
The last thing Emil registered before consciousness fully fled was the smell of the man carrying his upper body—salt, sweat, and something metallic like old blood.
***
Emil's eyes opened slowly. Wooden planks pressed cold against his cheek as a single lantern swung above. Water dripped somewhere nearby in a steady rhythm. He blinked to clear his vision while his head throbbed, making even the dim light painful.
Ben's shirt clung to his skin, the once-crisp white fabric now wrinkled and dirty and his pants hung half-buttoned on his hips. As his vision gradually cleared, Emil noticed two other boys lying nearby, one of them had dried blood at the corner of his mouth. Emil thought to wake them up, but before he could do so the door swung open with a heavy thud and a man stepped inside. He had broad shoulders and muscular arms covered with faded tattoos, and a curved knife hung at his belt. His eyes found Emil immediately, and his lips rolled into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Look who's awake," he said in a rough voice as he moved toward Emil. "Our little prince."
Emil's heart pounded against his ribs and he tried to pull himself up to a more dignified position. The man crouched beside him, bringing his face close, his eyes traveling over Emil's body with open interest.
"You're worth something, they say," the man continued as his hand grabbed Emil's jaw, squeezing hard enough to make him wince. "But nobody said we couldn't have some fun first."
He turned Emil's face one way and then the other as if examining merchandise. His thumb pressed against Emil's lower lip. "Pretty mouth."
The man's other hand slid down Emil's chest, fingers spreading across his stomach through Ben's borrowed shirt. Without warning, those fingers slipped beneath the loosened waistband of his pants.
Emil jerked away instinctively despite the ropes binding him. The man's hand cracked across his thigh with a sharp slap that echoed in the small room. "Stay still," he growled. Emil looked sideways, hoping maybe the other boys woke up by the commotion, but the man pulled a small knife from his belt and held it against Emil's throat. The cold metal pressed against Emil's skin, freezing him in place. With his free hand, the man traced Emil's collarbone, then ran his tongue slowly along Emil's neck. His hot breath made Emil's skin crawl.
The man shifted position until his crotch pressed against Emil's face through his trousers, the hard length obvious against Emil's cheek. When Emil remained frozen in fear, the man laughed and pushed himself closer.
"Maybe I'll use that mouth," he said while fumbling with the fastenings of his pants.
Hey there!
This is an excerpt from my first gay erotic novel, "Captain's Toy" which is now free on Amazon. It is super dark, twisted and very explicit, so beware! If you like that taste, feel free to download the whole book now on Amazon.
