Col and Andri: The Vanna Stallions

The Black Pig

The first blush of light kissed the forest just as Col kissed his lover, Andri. They were near the forest house of Jorge’s steading, walking among the tall trees. Birds sang, declaring their territories, and everything looked fresh and green. Breaking from the kiss, Andri inhaled the air deeply and identified the scent of balsam resin.

As they walked on, Andri grasped Col’s shoulder. “I see a fallen tree over there, and it’s large. Let’s stop,” he said.

“You two go first. Someone has to stand guard now,” prompted Jorge, who followed behind them with Aled.

Two nights before, Col had witnessed the old hunter in a sexual encounter with Aled. He had awakened Andri, and the act they watched inspired the young men to their lovemaking. As a result, Col felt comfortable with the two men guarding himself and Andri in making love outdoors this spring morning. Unfortunately, caution became necessary after a group of unwelcome visitors had threatened Jorge, who had reacted by slaying the leader. The strangers had left but had promised to stalk the old hunter.

This morning, Col and his friends were ready to continue their journey, but first, Jorge and Aled planned to say farewell to each other, even as Col and Andri desired to make love. Before leaving the forest house, they had bathed each other with plenty of hot water from the large cauldron over the fire, a luxury they would soon miss.

Andri took his old red cloak off and laid it over the massive tree trunk. “This will do,” he said.

“We will be nearby,” said Aled. “One of us will watch over you, and the other will focus on our surroundings.”

“And we’ll watch out for you afterwards,” Andri replied.

Col approached behind Andri and held his shoulders. He kissed his lover’s neck before turning him around and beginning to unfasten the young bard’s coat. Andri, in turn, worked on removing Col’s clothes; soon, the two were naked.  

Andri noticed Aled standing a short distance away, observing them, bow and arrow at the ready. There was no sign of Jorge, and Andri thought the old hunter must have climbed a tree. Then his attention was distracted by Col sucking his nipples, which had already contracted in the cool air.

With his pale skin and sparse chest hair, Andri still looked like a boy, even though he had attended the Ruithin College for over three years, whereas Col’s body had matured due to his handling of battle-trained horses. The young bard admired his lover’s muscular chest, which sported light swirls of black hair over his brown skin. As Col paused to kiss him again, Andri cupped a hand over each of Col’s bulging pectoral muscles, noting their developed tautness. Cocks stiffened as they pressed their bodies close. Col reached down, grasping the two pre-cum moistened shafts, and squeezed them together, making Andri moan.  

“I can’t wait!” the young bard gasped, “I need you to take me now, beloved!”

“Let me at you, ves’tacha,” Col replied as he pushed Andri over the tree trunk. Kneeling, he grasped his lover’s ass cheeks, spread them and began to rim and lick the enticing rosebud before him, piercing it with his tongue. After indulging Andri for a time, he slowly stood, trailing kisses up his partner’s back.

Col’s stiff cock rubbed itself along the furrow. He took the lubricant they had brought and poured it over his cock and Andri’s ass, then slid his member back and forth over his partner’s opening as he held the cheeks apart.

“Are you ready, my greedy boy?”

“More than ready!” Andri replied, straining to move his ass against the rigid cock pressing on him.

Col’s wandering penis found its way in, and he held it still until he could feel Andri’s muscles relax, then he pushed further gradually, as far as it would go.

Andri moaned and writhed, impaled by the hot member. “Fuck me, lover, like you mean it.”

“Patience, ves’tacha; all in good time,” Col said, pushing harder but not moving.

In response, Andri ground his ass in a circular motion against Col’s cock.

“You are cheating! How can I resist?” Col laughed as he began to actively fuck his lover. Slow, deep strokes quickly turned to rapid thrusting as Col sought to go deeper and faster.

Andri pushed back against the stiff rod that forced itself into him, meeting each thrust with unbridled enthusiasm. “That’s it, cum in me, you rogue!” Andri gasped.

“You’re getting it now!” Col forced out through clenched teeth as he hammered into the welcoming ass. His cum surged into Andri’s rectal passage in a series of final thrusts.

Col grunted as he finished, resting his member inside his lover before pulling out. He hauled Andri off the tree trunk with strong arms and turned him around before sinking to his knees. Andri’s cock was rock hard, and Col swallowed it to the hilt. A hunger to taste his lover’s cum made him suck the cock, pulling all the way back and then swirling his tongue around the head before taking the whole cock again.

Andri gripped Col’s long, curling black hair, breathing heavily. At that point, wild horses or the hounds of the Dread Lord of the Hunt could not have stopped the inevitable conclusion as he forcibly ejaculated, semen pumping into his lover’s mouth.

Watching the two young men couple, Aled felt his own passion rising, and his cock responded. He hoped Jorge was close enough to be aware they had finished. He was in luck as the silent hunter materialized beside him.

“They have a great hunger for each other,” Jorge observed.

“Yes, they do. I have known them since Col arrived at our College in ArMorica three years ago, and in all that time, their love and desire for one another has not diminished,” Aled replied.

Jorge looked at Aled and smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Passion is a fine thing—when it is returned.”

*    *    *

Andri and Col had finished dressing as the other two men arrived. “Are you ready for us to keep watch for you both?” Col inquired.

Aled grinned. “It’s not just the young who can taste desire,” he quipped.

Col made a flourishing bow. “Doubtless, you could teach us new tricks, but today you can enjoy each other and not worry.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jorge asked, tilting his head to one side.

“Assassins and hunters aren’t the only ones who can practice stealth. We Wanderers are skilled also. We aren’t always welcome on holder’s lands and must know how to pass through without detection.”

Andri said, “One of us two can stay closer in, the other farther out.”

Col shook his head. “Ves’tacha, we stay together. I will guard you, even as we guard Jorge and Aled.”

Andri acquiesced, knowing his lover would be immovable on the issue. They walked deeper into the forest but not out of sight of the two older men. Watching Jorge and Aled kiss each other prompted Andri to ask, “Will we desire each other like that when we are their age?”

“Do you doubt it, my heart?” Col answered. “Now be silent, and let’s stand watch for them. You focus on our friends while I listen outwards.”

So the two young men stood guard as Aled and Jorge sexually indulged themselves: their fucking was rough, but not without a certain tenderness after both of them had come.

*    *    *

The horses were already saddled and waiting, but before the small company was to depart, Eirik served them breakfast.

 Col, Andri, and their companions sat around the long plank table discussing their departure. The encounter with hostile strangers the previous day had put a different aspect on their journey. The new threat loomed over them. Would the strangers return?

Jorge said, “You all should be safe enough. It’s me they want.”

“I have a bad feeling about us leaving just when you and Eirik could use some friends who can fight,” Col said. “But these strangers are assassins; such men don’t come openly to kill. They will likely target you when it’s night and you are alone.”

“They came openly yesterday,” Eirik replied.

“They weren’t expecting us to be here. It would have been five of them against the two of you,” said Andri.

“It does present me with a dilemma,” Jorge said thoughtfully. “I am reluctant to wait here for them to return—it gives them the advantage. I would rather hunt them. But I don’t like to put Eirik at risk, either.”

“I am a good fighter,” Eirik protested. “We could travel together.”

“This isn’t your fight, Nephew. Anyway, you need to look after Keri: she’s nearing her time.”

“Keri?” asked Andri, looking confused.

“Our black sow,” Eirik replied.

“You are staying. And Keri is a good guard pig and will warn you at night.” Jorge’s tone carried a note of finality.

“You are welcome to travel with us, Jorge,” invited Andri.

“Nay. I will draw no enemies to you. And I will wait a few days before I leave. There are things I must do in case they circle back.”

“The assassins’ trail will go cold,” Aled pointed out.

“I know where they are headed now. Don’t worry about Eirik or me. Besides, I have a notion we’ll meet up again in future.”

Aled said, “I hope it is so, but you don’t know that.”

But Col felt time shift, like earthquake tremors only he was aware of. He felt certainty descend on him. “Aled,” he said quietly, “Trust in Jorge’s hunter instincts.”

Andri glanced sharply at his lover, suspecting that Col’s foreknowledge was coming into play, but he said nothing.

*    *    *

Out in the yard, the group mounted their horses. Keven had the spare mounts and pack horses under his care. Gethen was to ride rear guard, and Aled would lead with Col. They said their final goodbyes.

“Keep your eyes open,” said Jorge to Col in a low voice.

“I shall. We will travel swiftly and head for Redstone Holding on the other side of the pass. Friends await us there,” replied Col quietly.

As the party left, Jorge’s horse, Pyotr, called out to the mares. With Eirik beside him, Jorge put his arm over his horse’s neck. Then he turned to his nephew.

“I think, Eirik, you and I should make a change in our relationship. I have been too close-minded about your needs.”

Eirik squeezed the hunter’s shoulder. “I’d like that, Uncle. Are you too worn out from being with Aled to make a start now?”

“No, Nephew, I’m not.”

They went inside the cabin together. In the yard, the enormous black sow rooted in the grass and twitched her ears, listening.

*    *    *

The breeze strengthened as the company traversed the pass in a dip between two peaks. Ahead of them, other peaks became visible.

“It looks like the mountains go on forever,” Keven complained to Andri as he rode near him, leading his string of horses.

“Col says our trail takes a bend and comes down rapidly to the hill country. Then we seek a valley with a fast and dangerous river running through it. Redstone Holding is on our side of the river,” Andri commented.

“You have been there before?” Keven asked.

“Yes, but in unfortunate circumstances. I was held captive, and it was Brynnan, Master Bard and keeper of the harp, Mavrenn, who rescued me. I’d rather not go into the details just now. But things have changed at Redstone with the coming of the Deieros Brotherhood.”

“Forgive me, but you still seem apprehensive,” Keven observed.

Andri smiled. “I’m supposed to be serene and collected, as befits a Ruithin bard, but I haven’t quite mastered that skill yet.”

Keven tugged on the lead of the pack horses. “They keep snatching grass,” he said apologetically to Andri. “We’ll stop soon and let them graze. At least there is grass up here.”

“If you like, I’ll get Col to take over Gethen’s role guarding us, and you two can take a break together.”

Keven’s thin face lit up in a smile.

They stopped by several enormous boulders that had fallen from the heights, half blocking their way but offering an effective windbreak. In the shelter of the stone face of one boulder, Aled kindled a modest fire and propped a kettle of water over it for making cha. The horses were set to graze as the company relaxed. Keven stepped aside with Gethen, the two engaging in intimate conversation, while Col scouted a little distance ahead on the trail.

He returned just as Andri brought out a loaf of bread and some cured venison that Eirik had provided them with.

“Where’s Gethen and Kev?” Col asked.

Aled answered, “The other side of these rocks.”

“I’ll fetch them,” Col replied.

When the company was gathered together, sharing the meal, Col spoke. “I found some horse tracks ahead imprinted in a soft ground area. Three horses.”

“They could very well be our strangers; the assassins, I think,” said Aled. “Are the tracks fresh?”

“A day old,” Col replied. “If it is them, two horses are missing.”

“Perhaps they stayed behind to sneak up on Jorge,” Keven offered.

“Perhaps,” Col answered thoughtfully. “We have to trust Jorge to handle them. He won’t be easy prey, but I feel bad about this. As for us, let’s stay together where we can see one another. That means—“ Col looked at Keven “—that you and Gethen will have to fool around here if that’s what is on your minds. Don’t concern yourselves with the rest of us. You’ll get used to it. Andri and I will do the same.”

Gethen, seated beside the horse groom, looked meaningfully at Keven and took his hand. Keven nodded, and the two moved a little apart from the others. They murmured to each other in low voices, then began to kiss.

Col then said, “I think I will attempt a sending. See if I can reach Geraint with my mind.”

“What do you need from us?” Andri asked.

“Just silence and good energies. Think about something that makes you feel peaceful or good. That shouldn’t be too hard in light of this morning.”

“Very well, go ahead.”

Andri and Aled sat still: Gethen and Keven continued kissing, absorbed in each other, which suited Col just fine.

Col concentrated. He focused his mind and shut out all distractions. Bringing up Geraint’s image and personality, he called, sending his message into the aether. There was only silence at first, but Col was patient. He imagined his call as a stone thrown into the water and watched the ripples it caused.

‘Col of the Wanderers! It’s my very self, Geraint, that answers you. What do you need?’

‘Geraint! Thank the Devleski Dai, the Earth Mother. We are—’ Col created mental images of Andri and the others, sending their recent history in a series of pictures. ‘—we are not far from Redstone, but there may be assassins in our path . . .‘

‘I am at Redstone Holding. Give me your route, and I will come to meet you, bringing some of the Brotherhood with me. If we encounter these assassins, they will be stopped. Take heart, my young friend . . .’

Col gradually became aware that someone was shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find he was lying on the grass.

“You seemed to pass out,” Andri said, looking anxiously at him.

“Not so, ves’tacha. I just went deep. Good news—Geraint is coming to meet us.”

Andri’s face lit up. Both young men were beholden to Geraint as their sexual teacher and friend.

“I’m getting hard just thinking about it. I hope we have a chance to celebrate being together!”

Col laughed, feeling his spirit lightening up. “I’m sure we will!”

Aled looked bemused. “This Geraint, an old but effective Warrior, I was told. I only met him once, and briefly at that!”

“He was my Master in the sexual arts before I came to ArMor-ys. Maybe, if I ask him nicely, he’ll have something to teach even you, Aled.”

“We will see, young bard. Now I suggest we get a move on before the day wanes. I’ll get Gethen. While you were out mind-travelling, my partner and Keven were doing some quiet cock-sucking. Now it’s time to go.”

But Col stood still, holding his horse’s rein and looking back along the trail. Andri came over and asked him, “What is the matter, lover?”

Col sighed. “I suddenly feel we should have stayed at Jorge’s steading one more day.”

*    *    *

Jorge supported himself on his extended arms, breathing heavily but in a controlled manner. His thrusts were strong, and he spared Eirik nothing as his weighty and rigid cock ploughed the young man's ass. Eirik, lying face down on the low pallet bed, clutched the log rail at its top. He moaned as he felt the driving phallus pump inside him. His own cock was hard and dripping copious pre-cum, and he longed to jerk off.

“Let me make myself cum,” he gasped.

Jorge gripped his nephew’s hips and rolled him onto his side.

“I’ll be the one touching you; leave your cock be!” he ordered. He continued to fuck Eirik in this new position but reached around the young man’s body and grasped the dripping cock.

“Jorge, damn you, jerk me off!”

“Ask me nicely, Nephew.”

“Uncle, damn you, please jerk my cock!”

“That’s better.”

The hunter spared no more words. He thrust faster and masturbated the young man hard in time to his strokes. Eirik was lost in the sensations, but Jorge hissed, “Stay alert! Learn to listen as you get fucked or sucked or jerked off.”

“Yes, Uncle. I’m listening, but I’m also cumming—now!”

Eirik tensed, his ball sack contracting tightly and his muscles becoming rigid as he ejaculated. His cum jetted out in intense pulses, and he moaned.

Jorge felt his own climax take him, shivering through his body and reaching his toes. He pulled out as he was cumming, finishing himself off with his hand, and shooting over Eirik’s firm ass muscles. He lay on his side, allowing his breathing to slow, draping an arm over Eirik’s side.

“How was that, Nephew? Did it relieve your itch?”

“Jorge, you’re so romantic,” Eirik said with a low laugh.

“What? You want me to gather you a bunch of wildflowers, lad? Tell you what—you get the sheet off the bed, and I’ll pour a bowl of hot water so we can wash off. Then get dressed. We took a risk because we might have visitors soon.”

Eirik did as he was told. There was no arguing with his Uncle when his mind was tracking on a goal.

They dressed and, taking their weapons, went outside. The steading looked peaceful enough. Two of the goats were standing on the roof, munching on the turf that covered it, while the black sow lay in the yard, stretched on her side in the dust, enormous belly bulging. She weighed more than both men and, typical of her breed, had knife-sharp tusks and long upper canine teeth. She made a growling, grunting sound, indicating her contentment.

Suddenly she stopped, raised her head, stared into the forest, and uttered one abrasive scream. Immediately, Jorge touched Eirik’s shoulder and pointed.

The two men ran into the trees, working their way deeper but moving from trunk to trunk. Jorge indicated to a particular branching tree, and Eirik, bow and quiver slung across his back, swiftly climbed high up until he reached a perch that afforded good cover.

Jorge moved on, an arrow strung in his bow, testing the woods with all his senses. A slight movement, a mere shift in the shadows, drew his attention. He moved silently and very slowly until the form of a man became visible. Jorge recognized him. It was one of the assassins.

He froze, but the man had not detected him. He took a deep, settling breath, then gradually brought his bow arm up, simultaneously stretching the braided cord that strung the bow and flexing his strong arms to draw the arrow back to its full extent until the string hooked by his fingers kissed his lips. The shaft did not carry a hunting point designed for maximum blood loss but a metal piercing tip that could break through chain mail. He imaged the target in his mind and let go. The arrow sped on its trajectory.

It struck the man full on the left side of his chest. He didn’t scream but uttered a sharp indrawn gasp, froze, then fell. Jorge prepared to go to him to end the man’s life if necessary, but he thought it had been a killing shot. He stepped forward.

The shock of the arrow that struck his back momentarily paralyzed him. The pain was red fire. It was his turn to fall to the ground. Instinctively he fumbled for his dagger, knowing his assailant would be closing up on him just as he had planned to go to the man he had shot.

He heard footsteps. They were not Eirik’s. Turning on his side with immense effort, he saw a darkly clad figure striding towards him from a distance, sword held at the ready to finish him off.

But in the woods, there echoed the most unearthly scream. It was wild and unrestrained, with an abrasive, growling quality. The assailant paused, then resumed his advance before the cry came again, this time closer. The man raised his sword and began to run the final distance towards Jorge, who could not properly grasp his dagger, as it was on his injured side. He was aware that the arrow pierced his shoulder beside the scapula: half a handspan of barbed point was now protruding from the front, above his breast. It might have nicked a lung because blood trickled from his mouth, and it was painful to breathe: no matter: death was closing on him at the assassin’s hands.

“Swīgēnthonar,” the assassin said. Just that word: nothing more. He raised his sword high as Jorge stared fearlessly at the inevitable death descending on him.

 A horrible sound exploded behind the man, sounding like a human voice choking and screaming simultaneously. The massive black sow barrelled into the attacker, sending him headlong into the moss and dirt. Before he could recover, she was on him, screaming, biting and slashing like a demon. She bit into his throat, causing blood to spray across Jorge, and this time he did close his eyes. His consciousness flowed away from him.

*    *    *

Jorge came awake to find himself on his feet.

“Hold on to the saddle. Don’t fall. I’ve lengthened the stirrup right down. Can you get your foot in it?”

Eirik was supporting him alongside Pyotr, Jorge’s horse. He was aware that the pain was slightly less. There was a wide bandage wrapped around his shoulder. The arrow was gone, but it still hurt to breathe. He coughed, and it hurt more.

“The arrow . . .how?” he mumbled.

“I did like you taught me and cut the point off, then drew it back through,” said Eirik.

Jorge attempted to climb into the saddle, but he was too weak. “Pyotr, lie down. There’s a lad,” he said with a wheezing breath, and the horse sank to its knees. The hunter pulled himself across the horse’s back.

“I never knew he could do that!” said Eirik.

“Eh, just get us home, Nephew.”

They moved off. Jorge asked, “How did you find me?”

“It was easy. I was in the tree: I heard nothing until Keri screamed and dashed past me deeper into the forest. I scrambled down and followed her. She was screaming like a thing possessed, then she attacked your assailant. He’s dead, and so is the one you shot. I’ll take care of the bodies later. At least now we have another horse that I can ride. It’s a mare. I rode it back to get Pyotr and some bandages. The spare horse I set free.”

“Bandage looks like a bed sheet,” Jorge mumbled.

“It is. At least I don’t have to do laundry . . .”

Jorge swore.

“Don’t worry, Uncle. We’ve remedies for infections, and we’ll need them.”

“Eirik—“

“Yes, Uncle?”

“I’m glad you’re here. You did well. So did the pig,” Jorge added.

“Thanks, Uncle.”

*    *    *

Further down the mountainside, Col and his companions found a place to camp, with grass for the horses and a thin waterfall pouring down the nearby slope. Keven and Gethen began to prepare their base for the night.

“Well, lover,” said Andri. “ Are you getting off that horse, or are you planning to sleep in the saddle? I’ll have to join you, and it will make sex very uncomfortable.”

Col turned his head and smiled. “I was just daydreaming. All of a sudden, I feel like a storm has passed.”

Andri reached up and held Col’s hand. “That’s because, somewhere, one has. Now come on down.”

Col complied.

*    *    *

To be continued . . .