Colours of the Wind - Chapter Seven
Author: emocezi
Title: Colours of the Wind - Chapter Seven
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2689
Disclaimer:I don't own Pocahontas nor do I make any money from this work of fiction.
A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long to post. I know where this story is going, but actually getting there seems to be the problem. Well, at least the boys are cooperating now, all that's left is to beat down my writers block. :)
Previous Chapters: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX
"This won't stand." Joshua Pike shouted from where he stood on a stump surrounded by his fellow Virginians. "They took Thomas and they won't return him. We've let the Captain have his say. Now it's our turn. We'll bring the boy back and kill any savage that get in our way." The group of men that stood around him cheered, thrusting rifles and bayonets in the air in a show of solidarity.
The Captain was away, no doubt communing with his savage lady. The same savage lady who refused to let Thomas go free. They had little doubt that even though John didn't like her decision, he'd respect it to keep her from becoming angry with him. It was for this reason the men were fast losing respect for their Captain.
Even Ben and Lon were feeling the effects of John's infatuation. He never stuck around camp, helping with the many chores that needed to be done during the day. Instead he'd take off after breakfast had been served, using the excuse of tracking and hunting to get away from the camp.
He couldn't see that his new found romance with the savage was causing his men to seriously consider mutiny. They were ready to take back their comrade, the consequences of their actions be damned.
XxX XxX
Deep in the forest, where the sunlight barely reaches the ground and the shadows lay deep and dark, Captain John Smith walked. The sounds of the forest echoed in his ears, the hum of the biting insects that flew around him, the call of birdsong and the answering chitter of the squirrels and other small animals that lived in the trees.
The entire forest seemed so alive, even the wind whipped around him, stirring up leaves in whirlwinds of colour and whistling through the trees.
But John heard none of it. He was blind and deaf to the wonder of the new land, seeing only rocks and dirt, hearing only the chatter of wild things. Even the wind was ignored, the swirling patterns of leaves stirred up in its wake were looked over with the civilized eyes of the Englishman.
He'd stumbled across what he'd thought to be a game trail, but among the tracks of elk and moose he'd found human footprints mixed in. He'd finally found what he'd been looking for. He'd been following the tracks for nearly an hour, knowing he was on the right path by the increase in footprints.
His plan was to find the village, and rather then run in alone, he'd go back to camp and bring a few men with him, infiltrate the camp in the dead of night and bring Thomas back with them. It never occurred to John to simply let Thomas live his life. In his mind, Thomas was his responsibility ever since he'd rescued the young man from the ocean. And just like on the ship, he was going to rescue the boy. It was his duty.
XxX XxX
"Back in England, talking to trees would get you a one way ticket to the asylum." Thomas said conversationally on the way back from his meeting with Grandmother Willow. Pocahontas cocked her head to the side, her curosity obvious. "The asylum. It's where people are sent when they're...." He struggled for the word, knowing even an explanation in English would be hard for her to understand. "When it's dangerous for them to be around other people."
"Who decides which people are dangerous?"
"There are men who decide these things." Thomas said quietly. "I never liked the practice of it. It always seemed so savage to me. The ways of the pale faces." He shook his head. "I never thought I'd ever think of my own people as savage."
"Do you still think of them as your people?" Pocahontas seemed sad and Thomas smiled at her.
"I'm a man of two worlds. I think I always will be. Even the Willow tree knows it."
"Grandmother Willow speaks in riddles. She's very confusing at times. But I don't think she meant that you were to belong to two tribes. It would be very hard for you to be of two peoples."
"Hard isn't a problem." Thomas said softly. "I've lived a difficult life, most of it being a lie. I've hid myself for so long that I've forgotten who I really am. But...." He stopped suddenly and blew out a breath, looking afraid suddenly. "Pocahontas. What's a two-spirit? I've heard the word being associated with both Kocoum and myself but no one will explain it to me."
"A two-spirit holds both a male and female spirit inside themselves."
"What does that mean?"
"What is the term John used. The...the men who share beds with other men?"
"And it's...okay?" Thomas could feel his eyes burning and wondered why it was that he seemed to be crying at the drop of a hat these days.
"Of course it's okay. I know the pale demons that live in your land do terrible things to the men like you. They kill and torture them, John told me of this barbaric practice."
"Men like...do you mean to say that the entire village knows I'm-" He couldn't bring himself to say the word and his face burned with shame at the thought of going back to those knowing eyes and sly smiles. Suddenly it all made sense to him, the way the tribe would look at him when he'd leave Kocoum's hut in the morning.
"Thomas, why won't you listen to me? There is nothing wrong with being a two-spirit."
"But. It's wrong. It's a terrible thing to be. It's dirty and horrible and I'm going to the pits of hell for even thinking of it."
"You're people are wrong." Pocahontas sounded so fierce that Thomas broke from his self-loathing to look at her. She stood tall and brave, the wind whipping around her body in a swirl of leaves. "You are wrong. Two-spirits are beautiful. They have beautiful souls and beautiful minds and beautiful hearts. They love and care and hunt and create and protect. You are beautiful Thomas. You are perfect and Kocoum is lucky to have you."
"I...I don't know what to say to that." He knew he sounded meek, like a child after being scolded.
"You don't need to say anything. Just accept the fact that we love you for who you are. All of us. And know this." She smiled then, almost shy. "Kocoum is waiting for you. He knows what your people think of us, of him, of the two-spirited and he's waiting for you to come to him. He cares for you a great deal. Don't disappoint him."
"But. He's so-" Pocahontas was expecting Thomas to say 'solemn' and he lips twitched. " -So brave and strong. He deserves someone better then me. I'm nobody. I'm worthless." Pocahontas narrowed her eyes, suddenly furious with the tribe of pale-faces who had made Thomas doubt himself so thoroughly.
"Kocoum wants you, but you need to make the first move. He thinks he will scare you if he comes to you first." Pocahontas stepped forward and poked a finger at Thomas' chest, startling him. "So man up and kiss your brave." Thomas' eyes went wide and for a moment she was afraid she'd pushed him too far, but his face went red and she knew he was thinking about it.
She smirked and they continued back to the village, Thomas bright red and silent beside her.
XxX XxX
John watched from the trees at the edge of the camp. All he'd seen so far was a group of women weaving baskets in the center of the camp. A few groups of children played around fire pits with what looked like wild dogs. But no sign of Thomas.
No, there he was. He was walking with Pocahontas and he looked upset. His face bright red and his expression solemn. Beside him, the princess looked smug, and John wondered what they'd been doing in the forest. Had they snuck out to be romantic? His eyes narrowed at the thought, of course, it was the only thing that made sense.
Pocahontas had cast a spell on the red-head to make him forget his people. It was probably the same spell she'd cast on him with her savage beauty, so unlike anything he'd ever seen.
They had to get him out of the camp before the witch princess stole his soul and corrupted him anymore.
John turned away from the camp, his expression grim as he headed back the way he'd come. Now that he knew the location of the camp, it would be easy to gather a group of volunteers and bring Thomas home.
XxX XxX
Thomas was unusually quiet when the braves returned from the hunt, even when Kocoum strutted up like a particularly proud rooster to shove a fat hare in his hands.
Thomas had seen the gesture before, Hurrit did it often, presenting his wife with presents in the form of her favourite tubers or iridescent snail shells, with the snails still inside them.
Except, this time it was Kocoum giving Thomas presents. And it was a shock to realize that this gift giving had been going on for nearly a week.
Thomas smiled, thanking Kocoum for the hare and preparing to skin it. He sucked in a breath when Kocoum sat beside him and shrugging when the brave looked at him strangely.
Kocoum always sat beside him at the end of the day while he skinned whatever kill had been brought back and got it ready for the fire. So why was he acting so damn jumpy, like a addlepated schoolboy with a crush. Except that was exactly how he felt, peeking glances at Kocoum and flushing when their eyes met.
He felt clumsy and stupid. He was pale and skinny with too many freckles and no useful talents. And yet, if what Pocahontas had told him was true, Kocoum wanted him. Him.
It made his skin flush cold and hot to think of spending a night beside Kocoum for something other than sleeping. To think of Kocoum's hands, big and spear-calloused, touching him like that. And he wanted it. Oh how he wanted it.
But he was afraid. Even now, even after his talk with Pocahontas. He feared Kocoum's reaction. He feared the reaction from the rest of the village. And most of all, he feared the men of the camp. If they found out, if they caught even an inkling of the impure thoughts he had about Kocoum, they'd kill him.
Even through all the fear and doubt that plagued him. He knew, somehow, he knew it would be worth anything to have that. Even for just one night.
XxX XxX
John Smith arrived back at Virginia Camp just before nightfall. He didn't see the looks thrown his way, the sneers and contempt shown openly on the men's faces. He was blind to everything but the need to reclaim Thomas, the need to extract revenge on the savages who had taken the boy and brainwashed him into rejecting his own people. Thomas was theirs. Thomas was his
John strode into the tent that served as headquarters for the camp and drew his dagger, plunging it into the map that lay across the table. A group of seven men stared back at him, surprise on their features as they looked at the map and the knife sticking out of it.
It was an area they hadn't explored yet. The area blank and open, awaiting the careful brush of a cartographer to bring it to life.
"I found the camp of the savages. We move at dawn." The man in the middle of the group smiled suddenly and moved to clap John on the shoulder.
"Welcome back John. We thought for a moment we'd lost you to their witch."
XxX XxX
Thomas waited until the last of the food had either been eaten or put away in a basket for later. He felt shaky and lightheaded, his palms were sweaty and his entire body seemed to be jittering.
He walked beside Kocoum as they made their way from Awenita's hearth, where most of their meals were consumed, back to the hut they shared.
Luckily Kocoum didn't seem to notice anything amiss about Thomas' nervousness and Thomas prayed to whatever god would listen that they'd make it back to the hut without any interruptions. He just wanted to get this over with, wanted to know if Kocoum felt the same way.
He didn't know how long his bravery would last out, and if Kocoum stopped to talk to anyone, Thomas just knew he'd lose the head of steam he'd built up and his plan would fail, lost to his own cowardness.
Suddenly Thomas stopped. His heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears, he felt terrified and excited and sick. Kocoum had only taken a step before he'd noticed Thomas' absence at his side and turned to find out what was wrong. He moved closer and peered at Thomas, as if trying to diagnose what ailed him by sight alone.
"Thomas?"
"I'm fine." Oh god what was he thinking? "Just thinking." What was he doing? Oh godohgodohgodohgod. It was now or never.
Thomas stood on his tiptoes, leaned forward, eyes squeezed shut, and pressed his lips against Kocoum's. He stood there for a few seconds, no one moved, and suddenly he felt stupid and foolish and ashamed. Pocahontas had lied to him. She was probably laughing at him. They were all laughing at him for believing that stupid lie about two-spirits.
He moved to pull back, wanting nothing more then to flee the village and throw himself off the nearest cliff. Instead a hand crept up to cup his cheek and an arm circled around his waist to hold him steady.
Thomas' knees nearly buckled when Kocoum kissed him back. Softly at first, and then harder, more demanding. He couldn't stop the trembles that wracked his body, or the way his hands came up to clutch at Kocoum's arms and shoulders like the brave would vanish into thin air if he moved away.
Finally Kocoum pulled away, one big hand still cupping Thomas' cheek. He looked happy for once, instead of always so foreboding and serious. His warm brown eyes shining and the tiniest of smiles playing across his mouth.
"I...um..." Thomas started, feeling the strangest urge to apologize for the outburst in the middle of the damned village. He couldn't believe he'd just done that, pushed himself on the other man like a wanton wench.
"I've been waiting for you." Kocoum said quietly, eyes searching Thomas' face. The red-head felt himself start to blush at the look in the other man’s eyes and wondered how quickly they could make it back to the hut before the night descended into the sort of debauchery he'd only before imagined.
"Go Miskwa!" Ahanu cheered, and suddenly the quiet was broken by war-cries and catcalls from all over the village. Thomas flushed and ducked his head, then attempting to take a step back when he realized the near obscene stance they were in. And in public. His Englishman's pride wanted to curl up and die in shame, but the other part of him, the part that had started growing the moment he'd stepped foot on the land of this new world, didn't care that he'd just engaged in public indecency with another man.
Kocoum lifted Thomas' chin with a finger, ducking his own head for a quick kiss and then releasing his arm from around Thomas' waist. The red-head had no idea what he'd been expecting Kocoum to do, but it surprised him when Kocoum grabbed his hand and started pulling him back to the hut.
Thomas suddenly couldn't keep from smiling, he felt giddy, like a virgin on her wedding night. And it surprised him how little fear he had, how excited he felt. No matter what happened in the morning, this night would be worth it.
NEXT
Title: Colours of the Wind - Chapter Seven
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2689
Disclaimer:I don't own Pocahontas nor do I make any money from this work of fiction.
A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long to post. I know where this story is going, but actually getting there seems to be the problem. Well, at least the boys are cooperating now, all that's left is to beat down my writers block. :)
Previous Chapters: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX
"This won't stand." Joshua Pike shouted from where he stood on a stump surrounded by his fellow Virginians. "They took Thomas and they won't return him. We've let the Captain have his say. Now it's our turn. We'll bring the boy back and kill any savage that get in our way." The group of men that stood around him cheered, thrusting rifles and bayonets in the air in a show of solidarity.
The Captain was away, no doubt communing with his savage lady. The same savage lady who refused to let Thomas go free. They had little doubt that even though John didn't like her decision, he'd respect it to keep her from becoming angry with him. It was for this reason the men were fast losing respect for their Captain.
Even Ben and Lon were feeling the effects of John's infatuation. He never stuck around camp, helping with the many chores that needed to be done during the day. Instead he'd take off after breakfast had been served, using the excuse of tracking and hunting to get away from the camp.
He couldn't see that his new found romance with the savage was causing his men to seriously consider mutiny. They were ready to take back their comrade, the consequences of their actions be damned.
XxX XxX
Deep in the forest, where the sunlight barely reaches the ground and the shadows lay deep and dark, Captain John Smith walked. The sounds of the forest echoed in his ears, the hum of the biting insects that flew around him, the call of birdsong and the answering chitter of the squirrels and other small animals that lived in the trees.
The entire forest seemed so alive, even the wind whipped around him, stirring up leaves in whirlwinds of colour and whistling through the trees.
But John heard none of it. He was blind and deaf to the wonder of the new land, seeing only rocks and dirt, hearing only the chatter of wild things. Even the wind was ignored, the swirling patterns of leaves stirred up in its wake were looked over with the civilized eyes of the Englishman.
He'd stumbled across what he'd thought to be a game trail, but among the tracks of elk and moose he'd found human footprints mixed in. He'd finally found what he'd been looking for. He'd been following the tracks for nearly an hour, knowing he was on the right path by the increase in footprints.
His plan was to find the village, and rather then run in alone, he'd go back to camp and bring a few men with him, infiltrate the camp in the dead of night and bring Thomas back with them. It never occurred to John to simply let Thomas live his life. In his mind, Thomas was his responsibility ever since he'd rescued the young man from the ocean. And just like on the ship, he was going to rescue the boy. It was his duty.
XxX XxX
"Back in England, talking to trees would get you a one way ticket to the asylum." Thomas said conversationally on the way back from his meeting with Grandmother Willow. Pocahontas cocked her head to the side, her curosity obvious. "The asylum. It's where people are sent when they're...." He struggled for the word, knowing even an explanation in English would be hard for her to understand. "When it's dangerous for them to be around other people."
"Who decides which people are dangerous?"
"There are men who decide these things." Thomas said quietly. "I never liked the practice of it. It always seemed so savage to me. The ways of the pale faces." He shook his head. "I never thought I'd ever think of my own people as savage."
"Do you still think of them as your people?" Pocahontas seemed sad and Thomas smiled at her.
"I'm a man of two worlds. I think I always will be. Even the Willow tree knows it."
"Grandmother Willow speaks in riddles. She's very confusing at times. But I don't think she meant that you were to belong to two tribes. It would be very hard for you to be of two peoples."
"Hard isn't a problem." Thomas said softly. "I've lived a difficult life, most of it being a lie. I've hid myself for so long that I've forgotten who I really am. But...." He stopped suddenly and blew out a breath, looking afraid suddenly. "Pocahontas. What's a two-spirit? I've heard the word being associated with both Kocoum and myself but no one will explain it to me."
"A two-spirit holds both a male and female spirit inside themselves."
"What does that mean?"
"What is the term John used. The...the men who share beds with other men?"
"And it's...okay?" Thomas could feel his eyes burning and wondered why it was that he seemed to be crying at the drop of a hat these days.
"Of course it's okay. I know the pale demons that live in your land do terrible things to the men like you. They kill and torture them, John told me of this barbaric practice."
"Men like...do you mean to say that the entire village knows I'm-" He couldn't bring himself to say the word and his face burned with shame at the thought of going back to those knowing eyes and sly smiles. Suddenly it all made sense to him, the way the tribe would look at him when he'd leave Kocoum's hut in the morning.
"Thomas, why won't you listen to me? There is nothing wrong with being a two-spirit."
"But. It's wrong. It's a terrible thing to be. It's dirty and horrible and I'm going to the pits of hell for even thinking of it."
"You're people are wrong." Pocahontas sounded so fierce that Thomas broke from his self-loathing to look at her. She stood tall and brave, the wind whipping around her body in a swirl of leaves. "You are wrong. Two-spirits are beautiful. They have beautiful souls and beautiful minds and beautiful hearts. They love and care and hunt and create and protect. You are beautiful Thomas. You are perfect and Kocoum is lucky to have you."
"I...I don't know what to say to that." He knew he sounded meek, like a child after being scolded.
"You don't need to say anything. Just accept the fact that we love you for who you are. All of us. And know this." She smiled then, almost shy. "Kocoum is waiting for you. He knows what your people think of us, of him, of the two-spirited and he's waiting for you to come to him. He cares for you a great deal. Don't disappoint him."
"But. He's so-" Pocahontas was expecting Thomas to say 'solemn' and he lips twitched. " -So brave and strong. He deserves someone better then me. I'm nobody. I'm worthless." Pocahontas narrowed her eyes, suddenly furious with the tribe of pale-faces who had made Thomas doubt himself so thoroughly.
"Kocoum wants you, but you need to make the first move. He thinks he will scare you if he comes to you first." Pocahontas stepped forward and poked a finger at Thomas' chest, startling him. "So man up and kiss your brave." Thomas' eyes went wide and for a moment she was afraid she'd pushed him too far, but his face went red and she knew he was thinking about it.
She smirked and they continued back to the village, Thomas bright red and silent beside her.
XxX XxX
John watched from the trees at the edge of the camp. All he'd seen so far was a group of women weaving baskets in the center of the camp. A few groups of children played around fire pits with what looked like wild dogs. But no sign of Thomas.
No, there he was. He was walking with Pocahontas and he looked upset. His face bright red and his expression solemn. Beside him, the princess looked smug, and John wondered what they'd been doing in the forest. Had they snuck out to be romantic? His eyes narrowed at the thought, of course, it was the only thing that made sense.
Pocahontas had cast a spell on the red-head to make him forget his people. It was probably the same spell she'd cast on him with her savage beauty, so unlike anything he'd ever seen.
They had to get him out of the camp before the witch princess stole his soul and corrupted him anymore.
John turned away from the camp, his expression grim as he headed back the way he'd come. Now that he knew the location of the camp, it would be easy to gather a group of volunteers and bring Thomas home.
XxX XxX
Thomas was unusually quiet when the braves returned from the hunt, even when Kocoum strutted up like a particularly proud rooster to shove a fat hare in his hands.
Thomas had seen the gesture before, Hurrit did it often, presenting his wife with presents in the form of her favourite tubers or iridescent snail shells, with the snails still inside them.
Except, this time it was Kocoum giving Thomas presents. And it was a shock to realize that this gift giving had been going on for nearly a week.
Thomas smiled, thanking Kocoum for the hare and preparing to skin it. He sucked in a breath when Kocoum sat beside him and shrugging when the brave looked at him strangely.
Kocoum always sat beside him at the end of the day while he skinned whatever kill had been brought back and got it ready for the fire. So why was he acting so damn jumpy, like a addlepated schoolboy with a crush. Except that was exactly how he felt, peeking glances at Kocoum and flushing when their eyes met.
He felt clumsy and stupid. He was pale and skinny with too many freckles and no useful talents. And yet, if what Pocahontas had told him was true, Kocoum wanted him. Him.
It made his skin flush cold and hot to think of spending a night beside Kocoum for something other than sleeping. To think of Kocoum's hands, big and spear-calloused, touching him like that. And he wanted it. Oh how he wanted it.
But he was afraid. Even now, even after his talk with Pocahontas. He feared Kocoum's reaction. He feared the reaction from the rest of the village. And most of all, he feared the men of the camp. If they found out, if they caught even an inkling of the impure thoughts he had about Kocoum, they'd kill him.
Even through all the fear and doubt that plagued him. He knew, somehow, he knew it would be worth anything to have that. Even for just one night.
XxX XxX
John Smith arrived back at Virginia Camp just before nightfall. He didn't see the looks thrown his way, the sneers and contempt shown openly on the men's faces. He was blind to everything but the need to reclaim Thomas, the need to extract revenge on the savages who had taken the boy and brainwashed him into rejecting his own people. Thomas was theirs. Thomas was his
John strode into the tent that served as headquarters for the camp and drew his dagger, plunging it into the map that lay across the table. A group of seven men stared back at him, surprise on their features as they looked at the map and the knife sticking out of it.
It was an area they hadn't explored yet. The area blank and open, awaiting the careful brush of a cartographer to bring it to life.
"I found the camp of the savages. We move at dawn." The man in the middle of the group smiled suddenly and moved to clap John on the shoulder.
"Welcome back John. We thought for a moment we'd lost you to their witch."
XxX XxX
Thomas waited until the last of the food had either been eaten or put away in a basket for later. He felt shaky and lightheaded, his palms were sweaty and his entire body seemed to be jittering.
He walked beside Kocoum as they made their way from Awenita's hearth, where most of their meals were consumed, back to the hut they shared.
Luckily Kocoum didn't seem to notice anything amiss about Thomas' nervousness and Thomas prayed to whatever god would listen that they'd make it back to the hut without any interruptions. He just wanted to get this over with, wanted to know if Kocoum felt the same way.
He didn't know how long his bravery would last out, and if Kocoum stopped to talk to anyone, Thomas just knew he'd lose the head of steam he'd built up and his plan would fail, lost to his own cowardness.
Suddenly Thomas stopped. His heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears, he felt terrified and excited and sick. Kocoum had only taken a step before he'd noticed Thomas' absence at his side and turned to find out what was wrong. He moved closer and peered at Thomas, as if trying to diagnose what ailed him by sight alone.
"Thomas?"
"I'm fine." Oh god what was he thinking? "Just thinking." What was he doing? Oh godohgodohgodohgod. It was now or never.
Thomas stood on his tiptoes, leaned forward, eyes squeezed shut, and pressed his lips against Kocoum's. He stood there for a few seconds, no one moved, and suddenly he felt stupid and foolish and ashamed. Pocahontas had lied to him. She was probably laughing at him. They were all laughing at him for believing that stupid lie about two-spirits.
He moved to pull back, wanting nothing more then to flee the village and throw himself off the nearest cliff. Instead a hand crept up to cup his cheek and an arm circled around his waist to hold him steady.
Thomas' knees nearly buckled when Kocoum kissed him back. Softly at first, and then harder, more demanding. He couldn't stop the trembles that wracked his body, or the way his hands came up to clutch at Kocoum's arms and shoulders like the brave would vanish into thin air if he moved away.
Finally Kocoum pulled away, one big hand still cupping Thomas' cheek. He looked happy for once, instead of always so foreboding and serious. His warm brown eyes shining and the tiniest of smiles playing across his mouth.
"I...um..." Thomas started, feeling the strangest urge to apologize for the outburst in the middle of the damned village. He couldn't believe he'd just done that, pushed himself on the other man like a wanton wench.
"I've been waiting for you." Kocoum said quietly, eyes searching Thomas' face. The red-head felt himself start to blush at the look in the other man’s eyes and wondered how quickly they could make it back to the hut before the night descended into the sort of debauchery he'd only before imagined.
"Go Miskwa!" Ahanu cheered, and suddenly the quiet was broken by war-cries and catcalls from all over the village. Thomas flushed and ducked his head, then attempting to take a step back when he realized the near obscene stance they were in. And in public. His Englishman's pride wanted to curl up and die in shame, but the other part of him, the part that had started growing the moment he'd stepped foot on the land of this new world, didn't care that he'd just engaged in public indecency with another man.
Kocoum lifted Thomas' chin with a finger, ducking his own head for a quick kiss and then releasing his arm from around Thomas' waist. The red-head had no idea what he'd been expecting Kocoum to do, but it surprised him when Kocoum grabbed his hand and started pulling him back to the hut.
Thomas suddenly couldn't keep from smiling, he felt giddy, like a virgin on her wedding night. And it surprised him how little fear he had, how excited he felt. No matter what happened in the morning, this night would be worth it.
NEXT