Authors: K.A. Merikan
Ira smiled broadly, touching his ear in a delicate manner. “None of them boys ever complained when I talked to them,” he murmured in a way that suggested that he did not really mean a proper conversation.
James’ imagination was on fire when his mind drowned him in thought of Ira with other men in all those possible positions. But in all honesty, the sole idea of Ira naked was enough to cause a stir in his groin. “I think we should be going,” he said, more and more embarrassed. Smiling, Ira leaned over and James froze as he felt a warm, moist tongue tracing his lips.
“I guess we should,” he said, straightening his back.
James’ eyes shot up instantly. He didn’t say a word, but a tremor went through him and he was so nervous that once again he had to grab Ira’s arms to prevent himself from falling.
“Easy,” the man said, helping him to stand on the flat surface around the chimney. James knew the other man could see his erection, which was now uncomfortably pushing at the front of his trousers. He still couldn’t decide whether he was being merely teased or propositioned. He wasn’t sure which one he preferred either.
“Do you want to go first, or should I lead?” he asked, trying to ignore the problem.
“Nah, I go,” said Ira, immediately taking hold of the rope and looking down, as if nothing had happened. After shooting the aristocrat another sly glance, the man gracefully slid down the edge and then onto the courtyard.
James waited till he disappeared from his vision and tried to think about all the horrible things they had experienced that day, to fight his erection. After a while, there was a repeated tug at the rope, which James interpreted as a sign to come down. He wasn’t as proficient with the rope as his companion, but he managed to get down into the courtyard without much damage. There were no zombies in immediate sight, but they had to cross an open lawn and growls were still to be heard. Much to James’ relief, Ira kept his hands to himself, looking as professional as before their weird conversation on the rooftop. He nodded at the brown stable building, moving towards it.
The aristocrat didn’t say a word and followed him with a saber in his hand, ready to defend them both from any attacks. When James heard Ira curse, he knew it was a bad sign. Looking around, he spotted a group of zombies more or less 60 feet away. They both ran as quickly as possible to get away from the open space. Fortunately, they weren’t discovered.
Once inside the stable, James immediately sensed that this was not the place he once knew. The sight was horrifying: there were horse skeletons in some of the open stalls and massive rats running here and there, seemingly alarmed by the unexpected presence of something living. The smell wasn’t pleasant either: a mix of rotten wood and mildew.
“So where’s that treasure?” Ira went straight to the point, looking around the large building. For a stable it was pretty solid, elegant, with wooden arches beneath a high ceiling and white walls. On each of the stall doors, there was a decorative panel with a horse’s name on it. Some of the devices used for grooming were still there, untouched, so were a few saddles on a wall nearby.
James took a deep breath and started walking towards the back of the building. “We have to get to the attic. It’s hidden in one of the walls there,” he said, looking towards an empty space where his brother's favorite horse used to be kept.
“'Ow do we do that?” asked Ira, when James turned to show him, he caught a slight movement from the corner of his eye.
“There is a ladder in the blacksmiths, at the back...” he said slowly, lifting his saber and walking towards what he had seen before. He figured it was better to get rid of any zombies sooner than later, even though he'd tensed up once again.
“Which way?” asked Ira from behind a wooden barricade. As James went behind the corner he suddenly came face to face with a familiar shape. Dressed in a decomposing riding outfit was his brother, William. His heart sunk and even though the zombie moved forward, ready to attack just like all the others, James was too stunned to react. All he could mutter was a weak whimper. When Will reached out, he practically raised his hand for a handshake, despite his brother’s blank stare and the fact that almost half of his cheek was rotten, which proved that he was not the same person James knew. He felt a sharp pain, as the undead’s long fingernails bore through the skin of his jaw, scratching down to James’ neck.
“No!” he screamed, as if woken up from a dream and took a step back, but fell over something on the floor. Instantly, he tried stabbing his undead brother with the saber, but only managed to cut off his hand. It fell to the ground with a heavy thud, but Will didn’t even react to the loss of the limb. A shiver crept up James’ spine at the sight of his hungry mouth. Just as he lifted the saber for another try, Ira ripped the creature off him and brutally rammed a dagger into its head, immobilizing the zombie in an instant. The man shifted his gaze to him, breathing heavily.
“Fuck,” he breathed, quickly helping James back on his feet. “You’re hurt!”
“Oh God! He scratched me! He fucking scratched me!” It was slowly sinking in and James’ thoughts started running wild with panic, but he was also gripped by a strange pang of despair as his gaze swept over his brother’s corpse. They shared so many memories and to have seen him in this ungodly state was just too much!
“Fuck... fuck!” Ira cursed in a low voice, grabbing him by the arms. He swallowed, clenching his jaw for a moment.
“This is the end, isn’t it! It wasn’t worth shit!” shouted James with anger and a sense of failure. He would now die here and his wife and son would never get the life they deserved!
Ira breathed angrily and shook his head. He seemed to be lost in thought.
“Promise you will get some of the jewels to my family! Promise!” James grabbed him by the front of his jacket, looking him in the eyes with determination.
“You said there's a blacksmith,” the other man sighed. It seemed his train of thought was different from James’. “Take me there.”
James nodded his head and went forward, right to a small, but sturdy door. “The ladder is there,” he said in a suddenly quiet voice. He didn’t want to be, but he was also frightened. What would happen to him? Would he get sick first? For now, a weird sensation of stiffness spread all over his body. Was that fear or the first symptom?
“Block the door,” said Ira, walking around the dark room. It only had two small windows and a large two-leaf door that presumably could be opened, but they would not risk it. He gathered some dry wood, paper and other things that could burn easily and began to stoke a fire and soon, James saw the flicker of a flame. Strangely, Ira seemed much more focused on this task, than on finding the jewels.
James looked at him blankly. “A fire?” he raised his eyebrows and rigged the door with a big log of wood. “In the attic, there is another way down, through a latch in the floor,” he explained, “but you will need to jump.”
“Yeah, fire. You’re not dead yet,” Ira said calmly, shooting James a long gaze. “I ‘eard it might ‘elp if you burn the scratch”.
“What...?” James’ eyes opened wider as he stood leaning on the door. He met Ira’s gaze, as the man picked up a metal rod from a hanger on the wall and put its end into the fire.
“You wanna live?” he asked.
“Yes...” James whispered, feeling no power to argue. He took off his leather gloves and touched his face as his body was becoming cold with fear.
“Now you clean it off,” Ira commanded, gesturing towards a water pump at the other end of the room, which was already becoming hot from the rising flames.
James moved towards the pump to clean his face. Fortunately it was still working. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked quietly, relieved at the cool sensation of fresh water on his skin and tongue.
“No, but it’s worth a try” the other man said, opening his leather jacket and placing it on a dusty table.
Upon hearing those words James became more frightened and found it harder and harder to breathe. “Did you ever see it work?” he whined as his eyes focused on the metal rod in the fire.
The other man shook his head, stripped completely and folded his clothes into a neat pile. “But I saw it done” he answered, apparently hoping this would cheer James up.
“You’ve never seen it work!?” James shouted, his body starting to shake uncontrollably. “What is this!? Some kind of sick torture before I die!?”
Ira took a deep breath and walked in his direction. “How can I know?! Not like I’m stayin' to see!” he spat, slightly frustrated.
James looked like a frightened animal, as he sat on a massive anvil, holding his face with his hands. He had no better idea for a course of action. And if it wouldn’t help, at least they would have tried something...
For now though, all he could do was watch Ira squatting by the water fountain to clean his powerful body. The man first splashed his face and ran his now cold fingers over his scalp. James’ gaze followed droplets of water trailing along the firm belly and thighs, and dripping to the ground from a rather large, meaty cock. Its wet head was uncovered and it almost shone in the dim light of the fire. Ira was breathing shakily, trying to get it over with as soon as possible, his body covered in goosebumps.
James went silent, admiring his tight muscles, wide shoulders and exotic tattoos. It would be a lie if he said he didn’t look down at the man's thighs and between his legs. All the adrenaline from what was about to happen and the excitement of seeing a handsome man naked melted into one as his heart pounded and he hunched a bit, with his arms folded. He couldn’t even gather his thoughts. The other man suddenly caught his eyes and his mouth curved into a slight smile.
“You do that too. We’re all sweaty n' all...” he trailed off, probably not wanting to mention the undead body fluids. He straightened his powerful body and stroked any place he could reach with his hand, as if trying to brush off the excess water. He didn’t need to be very thorough, as the room was getting hotter and he dried quickly.
James gave him a small nod and got up from the anvil, his legs feeling unpleasantly limp. The wait was killing him, so he took off his clothes quite fast, starting from the vest and shirt, showing Ira his pale, but firm body. He was in no way built like the former sailor, but his body wasn’t effeminate either: tall with naturally wide shoulders; slim but not thin thanks to fencing, horse riding and the outdoor activities he did as a young boy. He squatted by the pump, to unbuckle his shoes.
Somehow, with the silence, he almost physically felt Ira’s gaze trailing down his spine to his round backside. He momentarily felt a tight knot of nervousness in his stomach. He had never been around a man like that before, one who would look him up and down. Taking off all of his clothes and putting them to the side, James felt almost obscene as he knelt by the pump to clean himself. The sound of footsteps coming closer set his senses to alarm. The shadow he cast on the water pump lengthened, as Ira approached him from behind quietly. In an instant, James felt his heart flutter like a frightened, caged animal. He felt a warm hand brushing over his shoulder gently.
“You want me to pour water over you?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine, I’ll manage,” he said, looking up. He felt hot and cold at the same time. Ira’s eyes were definitely on the hot side and he felt a flush traveling up his face at that discovery.
“You sure?” the man asked, putting another hand on his arm and kneading James’ flesh with his fingers.
“Yes...” he whispered, washing his face and hair, though feeling very stiff.
Ira sighed quietly, his hands never leaving the other man’s body. The back massage felt strange: wonderful and unnerving at the same time.
“Is the thing ready...?” asked James, standing up slowly and running his fingers through his wet, long hair. He didn’t want to give into this sensation now, with what they had to tend to.
“I guess so,” Ira answered and ran the back of his hand down the aristocrat’s spine, taking it away just as it reached the small of his back.
With every second, James felt more nervous. He was not used to being touched in this way and didn’t know what to make of it.
“Stay where you are” said Ira in a commanding tone, extracting the metal rod from the fire. It was now a blazing yellow.
“Maybe I’ll sit down?” James asked with a frightened voice. His stomach shrunk at the mere thought of it coming close to his skin.
“Against that wall,” Ira agreed, looking even more intimidating fully naked with a burning piece of metal in hand. “We cannot have you movin' away.”
James tried to be strong but looked up at him with glassy eyes. “I’ll try my best,” he whispered, his heart pounding so fast it felt as if it was about to leap out of his chest. The other man dropped to his knees straddling James’ lap and immediately took hold of his jaw forcing his mouth to close. Firmly but gently he pushed his head into the wooden panel behind him. Without giving the aristocrat a moment to react, he simply pressed the burning rod to his face.
James screamed out in shock and pain, grabbing at Ira’s arms with trembling fingers. His body was out of control. Tears he'd held back, where falling from his eyes. The smell of burning flesh filled his senses and he almost passed out, losing control over his shivering body, as the agonizingly hot metal touched him again and again. It felt as if long minutes had passed before it was taken away. Barely registering what was happening, James was pulled back to his knees and across to the water pump. Ira made him bend over beneath the broad faucet as a soothing splash of icy water caressed his body. James was gasping for air, not wanting to open his eyes. The burning sensation was still unbearable as he succumbed to the helpful coolness of water. The man’s muscles continued to tremble uncontrollably, but his mind was pretty much numb, as if it had tried to escape from the horror of what was happening. Even the hard, wet stones seemed comforting and soon, James realized that two large hands were stroking his bare flesh up and down. One hand held him upright, while the other slowly moved up the back of his thigh, stopping at his firm buttock, gently squeezing.