The first time Thomas ventures into the woods, it’s because he’s worried about John. The woods might be full of dangerous animals, after all, and John is all by himself and has been out there a long time. Thomas know he isn’t very good with his gun, but he’s probably better than nothing, right?
Turns out the woods are full of dangerous animals, and Thomas is even worse at woodscraft than he thought. The first he knows of the annoyed bear is the long, low, terrifying growl behind him. He whirls around and drops his gun and thinks, in a moment of panicky clarity, that he is about to die.
Then someone steps from the woods between him and the bear, and Thomas didn’t even know he was there, where the hell did he come from, he thinks, and blushes for the swear word. The stranger whaps the bear across the nose with an unstrung bowstave, and the bear makes an unhappy confused whuffling sound and lumbers away into the bushes again. Thomas’s rescuer turns and looks at him with unfathomable black eyes, and grunts, and points in the direction of the Virginia Company camp. Then he vanishes back into the woods.
Thomas picks up his gun and goes back to camp - he’s not that naïve, and clearly he is really not cut out to be a woodsman. But that night he can’t help thinking about his rescuer, about his very…broad…chest and his very black eyes and the evident strength in his brawny arms. Thomas rolls over and buries his face in his pillow and whimpers, very quietly, because he knows he should not be thinking this way about any man, much less a complete stranger who saved his life and then vanished.
But over the next few days Thomas can’t stop thinking about the unknown man. While he chops wood he thinks about the stranger’s strong arms, and while he carries water he thinks about the stranger’s broad chest, and while he digs - futilely - for gold he thinks about the way the stranger’s eyes were black and fathomless. At night while he tries to sleep on his hard pallet he can’t help wondering if the stranger’s long hair is soft and silky.
It’s a week later before Thomas really has any free time, and he goes into the woods again. Not far, no - just barely out of sight of camp, and he doesn’t bring his gun because by this time everyone knows he’s pretty much useless with it. He goes into the woods for…privacy, because among the many things he does not want to do is…do things to himself while thinking about a man, in the middle of camp, in the middle of the day. But the woods are cool and green, and this close to camp surely all the wildlife has been scared away, and no one expects him back for an hour or so, so this is a perfect time and place to kneel down and shove his breeches down and think - guiltily - about the black-eyed stranger.
Who is right in front of him.
Thomas makes a really embarrassing noise and can’t stop in time, can’t stop himself from coming on the mossy ground in front of his fantasy come to life, can’t help blushing at the image he must make, here on his knees in front of another man, this man, and if he hadn’t just come that might be enough to get him hard again. The stranger looks at him impassively for a long moment, and Thomas wonders madly if this counts as sacrilege or something - who knows what natives to this land might worship - and if he’s about to be killed for his presumption.
Re: Woodscraft (2/?)imaginary_goluxApril 28 2011, 21:01:12 UTC
Then the stranger smiles, just a little, a tiny crack in that stone mask. Thomas catches his breath and stares up, memorizing that smile. The stranger gestures for Thomas to rise, and he does, awkwardly, trying to tuck himself back into his breeches and not fall over. The stranger’s smile widens just a little more, and he reaches out and touches Thomas’s hair, curiously, as if he’s never seen red hair before. Thomas shivers and holds still, and the stranger runs his hand through his hair and nods, once, and then is gone again, silent as ever. Thomas sits down hard and grins idiotically to himself for long minutes before he tidies himself and heads back to camp.
The next time he has a free hour, Thomas doesn’t even hesitate, just heads right back out into the woods, as close to the same spot as he can manage. It’s a little tiny clearing, barely worthy of the name, and it’s out of sight of the camp walls, and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, about whether the stranger might be there again, about whether…something…might happen. Maybe. If Thomas is luckier than he has any right to be.
He is. The stranger steps out of the woods just as Thomas gets there, as if he was waiting too, and Thomas can’t help the grin that spreads over his face when he sees him. The stranger grants Thomas that tiny, cracked-stone smile, and looks him over. Thomas returns the favor. The stranger’s a lot taller than he is; broader, too, and so dark he’s almost the shade of the bark on the trees around them. After a moment the stranger leans back against a tree, and crosses his arms over his chest - Thomas’s breath catches - and raises one eyebrow, clearly waiting for something.
It takes Thomas a moment to get it, and then he blushes redder than a cherry - he can feel his cheeks heat - because oh God, this impossibly good-looking, competent man cannot possibly be waiting for Thomas to…to…he gulps, and the stranger, who seems fascinated by his blush, allows his smile to widen just a touch more. Thomas takes a deep breath, and unfastens his breeches. It’s actually rather gratifying, to see the other man’s eyes drawn to his…bits…like a magnet to iron. Thomas can’t tell if the stranger is getting off on this, or just liking the way Thomas turns bright red, or what, but if this isn’t the hottest thing that’s ever happened to Thomas then he doesn’t know what is, and he comes, hard, within a bare minute, because oh God the stranger is looking at him.
And the stranger watches him come, and straightens from his pose against the tree, crosses the clearing in two long strides, laces one hand through Thomas’s hair, and kisses him fiercely. Thomas closes his eyes and goes with it, whimpering at little at the unexpectedness and the goodness and yes, this is probably against all the laws of God and man but the stranger is kissing him, and it’s the best thing ever.
And then he’s gone.
Maybe, thinks Thomas that night, the kiss was a reward? He did something right, and the stranger approves? Certainly they haven’t any other language in common. Thomas wonders what he could do to earn more than a kiss, and then he buries his face in his pillow and tries very hard not to think of anything at all, because the things he wants the stranger to do to him are…well…are. And he can’t think about that right now.
Re: Woodscraft (3/?)imaginary_goluxApril 28 2011, 21:03:24 UTC
Three days later he’s back in that clearing again, with a little bitty jar in one pocket (he can’t even think about it without blushing, which was…awkward when the man at the gate asked him how long he’d be gone), hoping against hope that the kiss wasn’t really more in the way of “you’ll never see me again.” It wasn’t. The stranger is there, as soon as Thomas is, tall and dark and looming and impassive, and if Thomas hadn’t been hard before, he would be now. But there’s one thing he’s decided, and that is, that if he’s going to sin against God and man, and declare himself an invert and an effeminate forever, he is by-God going to know the name of the other man, so when the stranger leans back against his tree and raises that eyebrow, Thomas puts one hand on his own chest and says, “Thomas,” and points at the other man.
The stranger raises his eyebrow higher, and then his smile appears, and he says, voice low and dangerous and everything Thomas hoped it might be, “Kocoum.”
“Kocoum,” Thomas repeats, and then he takes his shirt and breeches all the way off, and digs out the little jar, and opens it, and shows the man what’s inside. It’s liniment, made for sore muscles, and all the men use it after a long day’s digging, but it’s not meant for this - what is? - and Kocoum looks a little confused for a moment, just a touch, like a shadow on that impassive stone face. Thomas takes a deep breath, and digs his fingers into the liniment, and transfers it to…where it needs to go. For a long moment, Kocoum doesn’t move, and Thomas wonders if this is too much, too wrong, if even savages from across the world know how demeaning and ugly this is, and then there is a strong hand in his hair and strong lips pressed against his, and he is being backed up against a tree.
That’s probably a ‘yes,’ then.
Kocoum is absurdly strong, strong enough to life Thomas completely off his feet and hoist Thomas’s legs into the air, pinning Thomas against the tree, and Thomas puts his head back and braces his hands on Kocoum’s shoulders and goes with it. He’s not even sure when Kocoum got his loincloth off, but clearly he did, because there’s a particular hot, hard, strong part of Kocoum pressing up against Thomas, and Thomas has the sudden thought this will probably hurt and then Kocoum is easing into him, slowly, clearly trying to be gentle, and Thomas grins and relaxes, because Kocoum is trying to be gentle, which means this is more than just a fuck. He hopes.
It is, however, a really good fuck, because Kocoum is strong and coordinated and, when he realizes that Thomas is really enjoying this, lets himself go a bit - thrusts harder, pushes Thomas more firmly against the tree - blessed tree - and Thomas bites down on his own fist to muffle his cries and comes, untouched, between them, and Kocoum thrusts once, twice, three more times and stills, shivering, and Thomas hears a very, very low moan. Which is incredibly hot, actually, that he actually made Kocoum moan.
Kocoum kisses him again, almost gently, and puts Thomas’s feet back on the ground, and helps him clean off - Thomas brought a handkerchief - and watches as Thomas gets dressed again. This time, for the first time, Thomas leaves first.
Re: Woodscraft (4/?)imaginary_goluxApril 28 2011, 21:05:27 UTC
Kocoum isn’t sure why he follows the white man into the woods. Perhaps it is the red hair, so strange, so different. Perhaps it is because he wished to learn more about the pale people. Perhaps it is simply because he can tell immediately that the white man has no woodscraft whatsoever, and he’s feeling…generous, perhaps.
And it’s just as well he follows the pale man, or the bear would have taken a sizeable chunk out of him. She’s not really angry, just a little annoyed, but still, the pale man is small and gangly and awkward, and wouldn’t be able to run away or fight. So Kocoum drives the bear away, and shoos the man towards his own people, who surely are able to look after him.
That night Kocoum thinks, idly, about the pale skin and astonishing red hair of the man whose life he’s saved, and wonders a little if he’ll see him again - and not at the other end of an arrow - but he’s tired from watching the pale people and worrying about Pocahontas, who is off communing with nature again, so he doesn’t give the redhead much thought before he goes to sleep.
But he watches to see if the redhead comes out again - just out of idle curiosity - and when he does, Kocoum follows him. The redhead goes to a clearing, near the walls (Kocoum’s estimate of his intelligence goes up a bit; at least he’s not wandering aimlessly again) and pushes down the odd leggings he wears, and Kocoum steps closer, drawn by the surprisingly erotic site of the pale man on his knees, eyes half closed with pleasure, hand moving swiftly upon himself. Kocoum actually forgets himself enough to step out of the tree cover without noticing; but that turns out to be a very good mistake, because the pale man comes hard on the ground between them and looks up at Kocoum with something like awed hunger. After a moment, Kocoum grants him a smile.
When the pale man stands up at his gesture, Kocoum decides to settle his own curiosity and see if the red hair feels like normal hair. The pale man actually leans into his touch, which is…interesting. Kocoum satisfies himself that the red hair is just hair, and steps away again, and watches the pale man sit and quiver like an aspen in a high wind. Interesting.
After that, Kocoum tries to watch the pale man - he already thinks of him as his pale man - as often as possible, peering over the palisade or through the trees to see what he’s doing, how he acts around the other pale men, what makes him smile or frown. His pale man is younger than the others, he thinks, and less experienced. And definitely more interesting.
The third time his pale man comes into the forest, Kocoum is pretty sure this is meant to be a rendezvous, so he meets his pale man in the same clearing. And watching the pale man bring himself off was pretty hot last time, so Kocoum decides to see if he can watch that again.
His pale man turns red as his hair when he figures out what Kocoum wants - pretty quickly, though, which means he’s smart, which is good - but he pushes his leggings down eagerly enough, and comes even faster than the first time, which might mean he hasn’t done this while he’s with the other pale men, or it might mean he likes being watched. Either of which is fairly promising, really. Kocoum has never liked to share.
Re: Woodscraft (5/5)imaginary_goluxApril 28 2011, 21:07:38 UTC
He’s pleased, and he wants to show his pale man how pleased he is, so he kisses him, hard, and his pale man shakes and goes pliant in his arms, which is definitely a very good sign. Kocoum leaves him there - he has to report to Powhaten, and he wants to figure out what in the world Pocahontas is up to with that corn-haired fellow, but he’ll be back. His pale man is too pretty to leave alone for long.
The next time his pale man comes to the clearing, he’s already blushing before he gets there. Kocoum rather wonders what that means. The pale man also looks very determined, and he greets Kocoum with a hand on his chest and the strange word, “Thomas.”
Kocoum figures that’s probably his pale man’s name, and tucks it away to think about later. Maybe it means something in the pale people’s language. He says, “Kocoum” - the first time he’s spoken to his pale man - and the pale man gets even redder and repeats it in a breathy, incredibly erotic tone, and then takes off all of his clothing.
Kocoum eyes the bare body appreciatively, and then the pale man holds out a little jar. Perhaps it is something to eat or drink? wonders Kocoum, and then his pale man puts his fingers in the jar and brings them out all greasy, and puts them down and behind and in. Oh. Well. Kocoum’s estimate of the pale man’s intelligence and bravery rises again: he knows what he wants, and he planned for it. No, not ‘the pale man.’ Thomas.
Thomas, who is looking a little nervous now, as though worried Kocoum will refuse; so Kocoum crosses the clearing in two long strides, tearing off his loincloth as he goes - much easier to get off than those silly leggings - and pins his Thomas up against a tree. Thomas goes willingly enough, wrapping his legs around Kocoum’s hips and clinging to Kocoum’s shoulders, and Kocoum makes a concerted effort to be gentle, because Thomas is smaller than he is, and young, and very beautiful when caught up in passion.
Thomas is very pleasant to fuck, all hot and tight and whimpering, pinned up against a tree and loving it. Kocoum lets go a little, thrusts a little harder, and Thomas bites his fist and comes, hard, which pushes Kocoum over the edge. Kocoum kisses his pale man, knowing that now they both know that Thomas belongs to him, and helps him put himself back together, and watches him go back to the other pale people, knowing very well he will be back.
Re: Woodscraft (5/5)guiltyhousewifeApril 29 2011, 00:48:37 UTC
Wow, I think, my brain is broke. Or is breaking. That was the single hottest thing ever. I want it to be be made into a movie that I can hide under my bed. :D
Re: Woodscraft (5/5)minutia_rApril 29 2011, 06:50:27 UTC
Wow, yes, this. I love Thomas and Kocoum's observations of each other, trying to figure each other out and communicate. (Actually I think I kind of have a language barrier kink. That's normal, right?) Brave Thomas!
Re: Woodscraft (5/5)guiltywordsApril 30 2011, 06:31:09 UTC
I can't describe how much I love this! This is my top favorite pairing (and it has so few stories) and you've done an amazing job with them. I was going to double fill this prompt, but I'm pretty sure I can't match this at all. :D
The first time Thomas ventures into the woods, it’s because he’s worried about John. The woods might be full of dangerous animals, after all, and John is all by himself and has been out there a long time. Thomas know he isn’t very good with his gun, but he’s probably better than nothing, right?
Turns out the woods are full of dangerous animals, and Thomas is even worse at woodscraft than he thought. The first he knows of the annoyed bear is the long, low, terrifying growl behind him. He whirls around and drops his gun and thinks, in a moment of panicky clarity, that he is about to die.
Then someone steps from the woods between him and the bear, and Thomas didn’t even know he was there, where the hell did he come from, he thinks, and blushes for the swear word. The stranger whaps the bear across the nose with an unstrung bowstave, and the bear makes an unhappy confused whuffling sound and lumbers away into the bushes again. Thomas’s rescuer turns and looks at him with unfathomable black eyes, and grunts, and points in the direction of the Virginia Company camp. Then he vanishes back into the woods.
Thomas picks up his gun and goes back to camp - he’s not that naïve, and clearly he is really not cut out to be a woodsman. But that night he can’t help thinking about his rescuer, about his very…broad…chest and his very black eyes and the evident strength in his brawny arms. Thomas rolls over and buries his face in his pillow and whimpers, very quietly, because he knows he should not be thinking this way about any man, much less a complete stranger who saved his life and then vanished.
But over the next few days Thomas can’t stop thinking about the unknown man. While he chops wood he thinks about the stranger’s strong arms, and while he carries water he thinks about the stranger’s broad chest, and while he digs - futilely - for gold he thinks about the way the stranger’s eyes were black and fathomless. At night while he tries to sleep on his hard pallet he can’t help wondering if the stranger’s long hair is soft and silky.
It’s a week later before Thomas really has any free time, and he goes into the woods again. Not far, no - just barely out of sight of camp, and he doesn’t bring his gun because by this time everyone knows he’s pretty much useless with it. He goes into the woods for…privacy, because among the many things he does not want to do is…do things to himself while thinking about a man, in the middle of camp, in the middle of the day. But the woods are cool and green, and this close to camp surely all the wildlife has been scared away, and no one expects him back for an hour or so, so this is a perfect time and place to kneel down and shove his breeches down and think - guiltily - about the black-eyed stranger.
Who is right in front of him.
Thomas makes a really embarrassing noise and can’t stop in time, can’t stop himself from coming on the mossy ground in front of his fantasy come to life, can’t help blushing at the image he must make, here on his knees in front of another man, this man, and if he hadn’t just come that might be enough to get him hard again. The stranger looks at him impassively for a long moment, and Thomas wonders madly if this counts as sacrilege or something - who knows what natives to this land might worship - and if he’s about to be killed for his presumption.
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The next time he has a free hour, Thomas doesn’t even hesitate, just heads right back out into the woods, as close to the same spot as he can manage. It’s a little tiny clearing, barely worthy of the name, and it’s out of sight of the camp walls, and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, about whether the stranger might be there again, about whether…something…might happen. Maybe. If Thomas is luckier than he has any right to be.
He is. The stranger steps out of the woods just as Thomas gets there, as if he was waiting too, and Thomas can’t help the grin that spreads over his face when he sees him. The stranger grants Thomas that tiny, cracked-stone smile, and looks him over. Thomas returns the favor. The stranger’s a lot taller than he is; broader, too, and so dark he’s almost the shade of the bark on the trees around them. After a moment the stranger leans back against a tree, and crosses his arms over his chest - Thomas’s breath catches - and raises one eyebrow, clearly waiting for something.
It takes Thomas a moment to get it, and then he blushes redder than a cherry - he can feel his cheeks heat - because oh God, this impossibly good-looking, competent man cannot possibly be waiting for Thomas to…to…he gulps, and the stranger, who seems fascinated by his blush, allows his smile to widen just a touch more. Thomas takes a deep breath, and unfastens his breeches. It’s actually rather gratifying, to see the other man’s eyes drawn to his…bits…like a magnet to iron. Thomas can’t tell if the stranger is getting off on this, or just liking the way Thomas turns bright red, or what, but if this isn’t the hottest thing that’s ever happened to Thomas then he doesn’t know what is, and he comes, hard, within a bare minute, because oh God the stranger is looking at him.
And the stranger watches him come, and straightens from his pose against the tree, crosses the clearing in two long strides, laces one hand through Thomas’s hair, and kisses him fiercely. Thomas closes his eyes and goes with it, whimpering at little at the unexpectedness and the goodness and yes, this is probably against all the laws of God and man but the stranger is kissing him, and it’s the best thing ever.
And then he’s gone.
Maybe, thinks Thomas that night, the kiss was a reward? He did something right, and the stranger approves? Certainly they haven’t any other language in common. Thomas wonders what he could do to earn more than a kiss, and then he buries his face in his pillow and tries very hard not to think of anything at all, because the things he wants the stranger to do to him are…well…are. And he can’t think about that right now.
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The stranger raises his eyebrow higher, and then his smile appears, and he says, voice low and dangerous and everything Thomas hoped it might be, “Kocoum.”
“Kocoum,” Thomas repeats, and then he takes his shirt and breeches all the way off, and digs out the little jar, and opens it, and shows the man what’s inside. It’s liniment, made for sore muscles, and all the men use it after a long day’s digging, but it’s not meant for this - what is? - and Kocoum looks a little confused for a moment, just a touch, like a shadow on that impassive stone face. Thomas takes a deep breath, and digs his fingers into the liniment, and transfers it to…where it needs to go. For a long moment, Kocoum doesn’t move, and Thomas wonders if this is too much, too wrong, if even savages from across the world know how demeaning and ugly this is, and then there is a strong hand in his hair and strong lips pressed against his, and he is being backed up against a tree.
That’s probably a ‘yes,’ then.
Kocoum is absurdly strong, strong enough to life Thomas completely off his feet and hoist Thomas’s legs into the air, pinning Thomas against the tree, and Thomas puts his head back and braces his hands on Kocoum’s shoulders and goes with it. He’s not even sure when Kocoum got his loincloth off, but clearly he did, because there’s a particular hot, hard, strong part of Kocoum pressing up against Thomas, and Thomas has the sudden thought this will probably hurt and then Kocoum is easing into him, slowly, clearly trying to be gentle, and Thomas grins and relaxes, because Kocoum is trying to be gentle, which means this is more than just a fuck. He hopes.
It is, however, a really good fuck, because Kocoum is strong and coordinated and, when he realizes that Thomas is really enjoying this, lets himself go a bit - thrusts harder, pushes Thomas more firmly against the tree - blessed tree - and Thomas bites down on his own fist to muffle his cries and comes, untouched, between them, and Kocoum thrusts once, twice, three more times and stills, shivering, and Thomas hears a very, very low moan. Which is incredibly hot, actually, that he actually made Kocoum moan.
Kocoum kisses him again, almost gently, and puts Thomas’s feet back on the ground, and helps him clean off - Thomas brought a handkerchief - and watches as Thomas gets dressed again. This time, for the first time, Thomas leaves first.
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And it’s just as well he follows the pale man, or the bear would have taken a sizeable chunk out of him. She’s not really angry, just a little annoyed, but still, the pale man is small and gangly and awkward, and wouldn’t be able to run away or fight. So Kocoum drives the bear away, and shoos the man towards his own people, who surely are able to look after him.
That night Kocoum thinks, idly, about the pale skin and astonishing red hair of the man whose life he’s saved, and wonders a little if he’ll see him again - and not at the other end of an arrow - but he’s tired from watching the pale people and worrying about Pocahontas, who is off communing with nature again, so he doesn’t give the redhead much thought before he goes to sleep.
But he watches to see if the redhead comes out again - just out of idle curiosity - and when he does, Kocoum follows him. The redhead goes to a clearing, near the walls (Kocoum’s estimate of his intelligence goes up a bit; at least he’s not wandering aimlessly again) and pushes down the odd leggings he wears, and Kocoum steps closer, drawn by the surprisingly erotic site of the pale man on his knees, eyes half closed with pleasure, hand moving swiftly upon himself. Kocoum actually forgets himself enough to step out of the tree cover without noticing; but that turns out to be a very good mistake, because the pale man comes hard on the ground between them and looks up at Kocoum with something like awed hunger. After a moment, Kocoum grants him a smile.
When the pale man stands up at his gesture, Kocoum decides to settle his own curiosity and see if the red hair feels like normal hair. The pale man actually leans into his touch, which is…interesting. Kocoum satisfies himself that the red hair is just hair, and steps away again, and watches the pale man sit and quiver like an aspen in a high wind. Interesting.
After that, Kocoum tries to watch the pale man - he already thinks of him as his pale man - as often as possible, peering over the palisade or through the trees to see what he’s doing, how he acts around the other pale men, what makes him smile or frown. His pale man is younger than the others, he thinks, and less experienced. And definitely more interesting.
The third time his pale man comes into the forest, Kocoum is pretty sure this is meant to be a rendezvous, so he meets his pale man in the same clearing. And watching the pale man bring himself off was pretty hot last time, so Kocoum decides to see if he can watch that again.
His pale man turns red as his hair when he figures out what Kocoum wants - pretty quickly, though, which means he’s smart, which is good - but he pushes his leggings down eagerly enough, and comes even faster than the first time, which might mean he hasn’t done this while he’s with the other pale men, or it might mean he likes being watched. Either of which is fairly promising, really. Kocoum has never liked to share.
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The next time his pale man comes to the clearing, he’s already blushing before he gets there. Kocoum rather wonders what that means. The pale man also looks very determined, and he greets Kocoum with a hand on his chest and the strange word, “Thomas.”
Kocoum figures that’s probably his pale man’s name, and tucks it away to think about later. Maybe it means something in the pale people’s language. He says, “Kocoum” - the first time he’s spoken to his pale man - and the pale man gets even redder and repeats it in a breathy, incredibly erotic tone, and then takes off all of his clothing.
Kocoum eyes the bare body appreciatively, and then the pale man holds out a little jar. Perhaps it is something to eat or drink? wonders Kocoum, and then his pale man puts his fingers in the jar and brings them out all greasy, and puts them down and behind and in. Oh. Well. Kocoum’s estimate of the pale man’s intelligence and bravery rises again: he knows what he wants, and he planned for it. No, not ‘the pale man.’ Thomas.
Thomas, who is looking a little nervous now, as though worried Kocoum will refuse; so Kocoum crosses the clearing in two long strides, tearing off his loincloth as he goes - much easier to get off than those silly leggings - and pins his Thomas up against a tree. Thomas goes willingly enough, wrapping his legs around Kocoum’s hips and clinging to Kocoum’s shoulders, and Kocoum makes a concerted effort to be gentle, because Thomas is smaller than he is, and young, and very beautiful when caught up in passion.
Thomas is very pleasant to fuck, all hot and tight and whimpering, pinned up against a tree and loving it. Kocoum lets go a little, thrusts a little harder, and Thomas bites his fist and comes, hard, which pushes Kocoum over the edge. Kocoum kisses his pale man, knowing that now they both know that Thomas belongs to him, and helps him put himself back together, and watches him go back to the other pale people, knowing very well he will be back.
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