FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

--1

To utter the name di Furetti in the family's home town was to command respect. Nobility; high social stature; old wealth. Yet as of but a day ago, to place the name Kimber before it spurred only disgust.

Any family of wealth did all it could to keep its' secrets within the walls of its' home, but rumors had ways of seeping through the cracks; things that entered the ears of servants would often be repeated, be it out of vendetta or simply pleasure taken from gossip. Whatever the case was, Kimber family shed him like a snake shedding skin, complete with the disgust such an act entailed, and as word spread of his "crime," much of the town had nothing but contempt for the polecat. Some questioned, some sympathized in silence, but those who mattered hated him, and they arrived for his humiliation.

When Kimber left, it was with the brunt of the townspeople - his parents cheer leading them in disgust - booing and laughing as he ran. Just as quickly as that, Kimber fled; broken, beaten, tormented for years to come, he took to the paths that led out of town, hoping they might take him to a better place.

--2

From poorly-guarded caravans to passing individuals with but the clothes on their backs for possessions, the mangy rats and ferrets of the bandit company freely took whatever they desired. Material possessions, food and water, even dignity - nothing was off limits to their grubby claws. They were a menace that many parliaments and militias attempted to exterminate, but no matter how often their clashes and how high their losses, they thrived.

The average thief was most often a dumb thug, enamored with riches, oblivious to the finer points of the crafts. Anyone who climbed to the top of any suck pack needed charisma and intelligence - and the head of the self-named Rustclaw company was exceptionally bright for his dumb looks.

Even from so far off, he could see clearly that a noble walked down his road. Though his distinctive clothing was worse for wear, there was no mistaking his breeding for his attire.

Really, what they were about to rob was far from the mark they hoped, being a creature not of wealth and good ransacking or ransom, but only disgrace; too well-bred to kill, too socially revolting to keep around, his family had no desire for his presence.

The bandits were oblivious, of course - they were simple thieves, and they knew not of gossip in the towns. These were places in which they resided only during the night, when it came time to cash in the meager treasures they amassed on the black markets. The lives of the nobility were not subjects they cared to turn their ears to... But the plundering and ransoming of blue-bloods was almost always a worthwhile venture.

--3

For all his pessimism and baggage, not even Kimber could reconcile his new misfortunes, for in an instant, he was surrounded by unwashed fleabags that menaced him with pilfered weapons. Some wielded chipped and bent swords, some dulled spears, and others with an assortment of other implements of pain. Some of them simply flashed their yellowed teeth, and others still bore their untrimmed, gnarled claws.

At this threat, Kimber froze mid-step, and he instinctively hunkered down, making his tall body compress int a smaller target.

As a slight creature who'd known nothing but pampering and a life free of duty, Kimber was ignorant to self-defense, and his diplomatic skills were less than satisfactory. "I've nothing for any of you to take!" the polecat warned, focusing on the shifting mass of thieves.

He was being menaced group of a dozen, at least, and they were closing in around him in a tight circle. Now and again, he felt a spear or the tip of a sword jab against him or lash into his flank, opening tiny, weeping slices or painful, yet shallow punctures, all for the sake of riling up the disgraced creature.

"You must have something to give us," the leader grinned, stepping in to the ring of his minions, standing toe-to-toe with Kimber. For a ferret, the leader was actually quite short, and though largely slender, he had a gut on him - by no means was he a fit, attractive mustelid like Kimber was.

Kimber featured an entire head over the filthy vermin, not to mention a truly righteous anger, but alas, he had no way to make use of such his berserk rage. Pacifistic wasn't any kind of word to describe him - nobody so angry could be truly harmless - and yet he was no warrior, either.

Resigned to this helplessness, he faltered back. In doing so, he felt the point of a spear, one aimed for crude, comedic effect at his behind. The jab made him cry out, and he leaped nearly into the waiting form of the leader.

Taking his opportunity, the leader of Rustclaw grabbed Kimber by the forearms, restraining him with ease.

Kimber bellowed with an enraged cry, but this only brought a sinister joy to his tormentors. His struggles and bared teeth were sick pleasures; the suffering to come would be legendary for months.

Pulling the polecat close, nearly nose-to-nose, the leader of the thieves spoke slowly and deliberately to Kimber, assaulting the ex-noble with his remarkably offensive breath which stunned him into silence. "Even if you've got nothing on you, you're so clearly a lad of good breeding and wealth," the ferret rumbled, narrowing his milky eyes to slits. "To have your blood on my sword would certainly do my soul well, seeing as how it is your kind that forces so many to resort to thievery to simply survive."

With that, he gave Kimber no time to ponder the implications of his own death; he crashed his dense skull into Kimber's far more delicate features, the dull ache of a bruise like nothing compared to the shock and throb it left the polecat with.

Kimber fell to the dirt in a daze, rendered groaning and bleeding from his nostrils after such an underhanded headbutt. Through eyes glazed with tears both involuntary and emotional, he saw that wicked ferret standing over him, and he saw the gleaming point of a sword but inches from his face.

In a manner of strange comfort, Kimber resigned himself to his death. Do it, he thought not to whisper, but to scream up at the vermin.

Death watched. It knew it would be claiming somebody at that spot, that day, that time; was it to be the disgraced noble? To continue a string of tragedies and atrocities? Death didn't care. It would have been just as happy with the leader of the thieves.

(DO IT) Kimber prayed to the point of the sword, his lower lip quivering with the words. He could feel Death's gaze in a moment of bizarre lucidity; whether he was dazed senseless from the headbutt or if his tired brain had finally snapped in two, he didn't know.

Not the way he knew that Death waited for the outcome.

--4

As the leader of the thieves made to bury his sword in the polecat's chest, he caught an arrow instead - with his throat. Suddenly, Kimber's death mattered not to him, for he flailed and he staggered back. Gurgling on his own blood, emitting an unnatural, bubbling squeal that chilled Kimber, he fell flat on his back in a cloud of dust, and yet he would not stop squirming. It was like watching a hard-shelled insect scuttle and thrash after being stepped on, but not completely crushed.

Kimber sat bolt upright at once. He was no different from the rest of the thieves in that instant, for he watched in rapt, morbid attention as the ferret squirmed and quite slowly drowned in his own blood.

In a moment that seemed impossible, stunning Kimber and the bandits alike, the dying ferret sat up with a burst of strength - the king of sudden, crazy strength only near-death could bring - and he unsheathed a shiny, ornate, and no-doubt pilfered knife kept on his hip. He did all he could to scoot himself to the fear-paralyzed Kimber, dragging his way closer with grotesque claws, kicking the dirt with ungroomed and calloused feet, but a second arrow lodged itself neatly into his form, this one in the crown of his skull.

Kimber heard the split-second whoosh of the arrow, then the meaty thud as it pierced the thief's skull. Anticlimactically, the leader fell slack into the dirt, face down; beyond an automatic, slow writhing as brain death set in, his days of menace were through.

The rest of the bandits silently scattered like the cockroaches they were, for Kimber's life was not worth suffering an archer's practice.

Not once did it occur to Kimber that he might've been in danger; a noble's life had seen him accustomed to being protected by archers, but the experience certainly left him shaken. He wearily rose to his feet, his long legs quaking so much that he couldn't run.

The grisly sight of the dead thief was a compelling one; it gave Kimber no pleasure, but it did feed a morbid curiosity. In a dead and buried part of his soul, he felt a certain happiness that he had been rescued, but it was numb and hollow. It wasn't gratifying in the least, and acknowledging it only served to deepen his depression, so he pushed it aside.

In true curiosity, he wanted to know who had rescued him, and that was answered swiftly - the mystery archer passed Kimber's flank with not a single word, and quite callously, he extracted the arrows from his felled target, replacing them in his quiver. Death and conservation with equal efficiency; that was to sum up Kimber's new acquaintance succinctly.

--5

"Thank you," Kimber said, though he obviously forced the words, being so unaccustomed to showing gratitude.

The archer turned, and Kimber took in the features of his savior; though also a ferret, this creature was tall, well beyond that of the felled thief, and even of Kimber himself.

Despite being dressed well to both wander and fight, it was easy for Kimber to see the stranger's definition. Kimber was self-conscious of himself to acknowledge that this traveler was also handsome in very a dashing manner.

Most striking of all was the tall stranger's gaze. The polecat had seen dozens of guards, knights, and other grunts, all of them in varying shades of dull-witted, and so to see such an obvious intelligence in the eyes of a creature so capable was a surprise.

"Your thanks are unnecessary," the ferret replied, at last meeting Kimber's gaze.

"Tell me your name," Kimber blurted out, only adding a pleasantry after the fact, "please?"

The stranger was hardly rebuffed by Kimber's obvious lack of social graces; nothing else could be expected of a noble. "It is Jarreth," said the ferret, folding his arms across his chest. "And may I ask yours?"

Kimber was happy to oblige, imbuing his voice with a certain authority, a regal air which all spoiled, wealthy young men tended to bear. "I am Kimber di Furetti," he answered with a subtle lift of his nose, at the same time folding his own arms, as if expecting his surname to cause this stranger to quake with fear - when it didn't, Kimber visibly tightened his jaw.

"Looking at how you're dressed," Jarreth said, briefly sizing up the polecat, "I assume you're not of poor blood, are you, Kimber?"

With a clear bitterness awoken in his immediate thoughts, Kimber snapped his head away and looked down the path, to the town he'd been chased from. "I may as well be now," he huffed with petulance, punctuated with an agitated lash of his tail. "Damn the lot of them! My family, the town, they could burn and I wouldn't care!"

It simply wasn't in Jarreth's nature to be coy, but in ways he was nervous to acknowledge, he saw much of Kimber in himself. The feisty bitterness, the aggression beyond all comprehension - these were things that haunted his own soul, though he chose to bury them. This denial led him to quickly develop an understanding for Kimber's blunt, straightforward words, even if it made the former noble seem childlike. "Would you care to tell me what they did to you?" Jarreth asked, offering Kimber a figurative shoulder.

The way Kimber snapped his head back, Jarreth thought he might break his own neck with such speed. Then, to look at the polecat head-on with his bloodied nose and eyes left bloodshot by recent tears, plus an almost snarling grimace, he thought the ex-noble looked like a demon. "No!" he snapped, hissing the words through his teeth. "I most certainly don't!"

From the way Kimber's lip began to quiver, Jarreth could easily tell that his words were contrary to his feelings, but if the ex-noble didn't wish to open up, it was his decision. Throwing up his paws in defeat, Jarreth briefly dipped his head in clear deference to Kimber's will.

Jarreth had an agenda, though his secrets were just that; secrets. In that way, he was very unlike Kimber, who clearly seemed to want somebody to pry until he opened his soul up. "Well," the ferret at last said, "I'm continuing down the road. If you'd like, you may accompany me, Kimber." He spoke without bias, offering Kimber only what his words implied; nothing more, nothing less. After an entire ten seconds to mull this proposition over, Kimber wordlessly joined his savior.

--6

Kimber and Jarreth spoke not a word to one another until the moon had crept into the sky, manifesting as a gleaming, white grin that cast an otherworldly glow over the path ahead.

Kimber was a creature unaccustomed to walking on anything but soft rugs and conquered, taxidermal hide, and he was ill-equipped to suffer a dirt path; Jarreth may not have noticed it otherwise, but he slowed his pace to allow the polecat to keep up with him.

So close to the former noble, Jarreth realized his companion was shivering. "I doubt if those clothes are doing you much good," he remarked with well-hidden sympathy, his tone coming across as matter-of-fact, his pace slowing.

"I'm fine," Kimber said in a gruff snap. He tried to walk past Jarreth, yet the ferret snapped out and clutched his feisty acquaintance by the shoulder.

Kimber at once roared in anger - to the extent that such a creature could roar. He snapped around to grip Jarreth's wrist, yet he was diffused by the ferret's calm eyes.

"You're cold," Jarreth said flatly, slowly loosening his grip. "There's no shame in admitting that, Kimber. None at all. Let me build a fire. We'll camp for the night and walk at the first light of day."

Kimber briefly scoffed, but more and more, the idea of a fire to warm his paws at seemed appealing. And, the more he thought of it, the more he wanted to sleep. After the ordeal of the last two days, of enduring the shame and the exile, he felt like he could sleep for an eternity and not be rested.

--7

The two travelers sat on opposite sides of the modest fire, the both of them warming their paws and bodies, yet the polecat was still cold, still shivering.

"Amazing, really," Kimber chuckled in morose humor, hugging his knees to his chest, gazing at the embers so intently that, whenever he glanced away, he momentarily saw ghostly images of the licking flames. "On colder nights than these, I'd complain that the fireplaces were stifling me. Now, inches from a fire, I feel as though I might die in this cold."

Jarreth gazed through the licking flames to view Kimber's defeated, nearly fetal form, and he absently prodded the crackling branches with a long, sturdy stick he'd reserved for that purpose alone. With practicality, he spoke to Kimber. "You won't freeze to death. Not on a night such as this. Your own fur keeps you warmer than you'd expect."

Very slowly, Kimber raised his head, meeting Jarreth's gaze; the ferret expected to see fury in those eyes, but there was only sorrowful resignation and tiredness, so he continued.

"I find that the cold always feels more bitter when a sour mood afflicts me." Narrowing his eyes somewhat, he more sharply focused on Kimber, thinking he briefly saw a rueful grin on the ex-noble's lips, yet the lapping fire obscured the view too much for him to be sure.

Minutes passed without words, the silence interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the chirping of insects.

Jarreth let loose with a long, tired yawn, and Kimber, watching the ferret closely, similarly yawned. Then, with some obvious trepidation, the disgraced noble pushed himself up to his feet and walked in a wide arc around the flickering fire. He sat at Jarreth's side, their bodies several inches apart. Another minute without words came to pass. "Jarreth," the polecat then began, turning to look at the ferret, "why did you rescue me?"

The way he squinted his eyes yet more and screwed his lips into a tiny scowl, it looked as though Jarreth couldn't fathom the question. "I would save anybody, given the opportunity," he answered calmly, afterward turning his eyes back to the fire; Kimber did the same.

"Hm," the polecat grunted, closing his eyes against the heat of the flames.

The ferret yawned again. Though tired, he didn't feel that sleep would come to him very soon.

In time, the ambient sounds grew too familiar, and the relative silence was maddening; neither creature could stand the unease any longer, but it was Jarreth who broke in.

"We should reach the next town tomorrow." He spoke without turning his eyes on Kimber, and Kimber didn't move or say a word - because he had drifted asleep. "I won't be staying longer than I have to, but I'd be glad to help you as much as much as I can. Find you, maybe, some place that might offer you residence and food for labor. That's really all I could do for you, Kimber. I apologize."

He turned to glance at the polecat; he expected to see that petulant rage, or maybe a sad dullness, but he only saw the slender ex-noble hugging his own knees, his bruised face resting upon them.

Jarreth knew in an instant that Kimber had fallen asleep. I suppose you've had a long enough day, the ferret thought, and briefly, he wondered just what he should do with the sleeping thing.

A moment of unease struck him, but he did what seemed natural. He scooted closer to Kimber and pulled the shivering, exhausted polecat against him. Taking great pains to not wake Kimber, he cuddled around his slender form, spooning for warmth, and he closed his eyes.

--8

For the first time in two days, Kimber slept soundly. Emotional and physical exhaustion had taken its' toll on him, but something else entirely contributed to his rest. Despite the fact that he slept on a dirt path that was far from the soft, warm bed that he would never see again, it was the feeling of Jarreth's body against his own that made him sleep so soundly.

His conscious fears and unconscious desires were two separate things, however, for when the sun's light at last wrenched his eyelids open, and he realized that Jarreth's arms were wrapped around him, he felt a bitter knot of emotions in the bottom of his gut.

Fear and anger were the most prevalent sensations. They were the ones he easily fed on and identified with, but in the queerest way, he felt a kind of contentment - something that wouldn't do at all. "Let go of me!" he yelped to Jarreth, who immediately began to stir with a few amusing, dull mumbles.

The polecat thrashed free of the ferret's lazy grasp, and as he scampered to his feet, he nearly tripped over the smoldering remains of the campfire. His eyes were wide and intense, his teeth bared in an angsty grimace that was already too familiar to Jarreth.

The ferret slowly sat up, and then he stretched the sleep from his long body. "Kimber, is something the matter?" he calmly asked, having already assessed that they weren't being ambushed.

"Yes!" Kimber snapped, his eyes narrowed to slits, his pupils contracted to mere pinpoints. "I awoke to you holding me - as if we were lovers!"

Jarreth's face was set in stone, but inside, he felt deep, shameful remorse for what he had done. Even as much as he tried to tell himself it was simply for warmth on such a cold night, he knew it to be a falsehood to pacify himself; in that regard, it failed.

The very notion that he had once more seen himself in need of male closeness reopened old wounds with a vengeance, and it saw him meet Kimber's intense eyes with a weary depression. He wanted dearly to tell Kimber the same lie he had told himself, yet he couldn't bring himself to, and so he sat in silence.

Kimber felt the burning fury, yet when he looked at Jarreth's sorry features, he could not find it in his heart to blame the ferret any longer. "Just listen, you," he started, his voice quaking with barely-controlled anger, "don't you ever touch me like that again. Do you understand?"

Jarreth winced, but only briefly, and he acknowledged those hateful words with a gentle nod; he wanted to apologize, but he didn't think Kimber would listen to him.

Kimber plopped down across from Jarreth, the smoldering ashes of the campfire between them. Though it was the early morning, and though his rage gave him a remarkable amount of energy, he felt so weary and bitter that he could have slept again. Hugging his knees to his chest, he rested his face upon them, and

(I can hardly believe what I'm witnessing Kimber how COULD you)

he wanted to weep, but he refused to in Jarreth's presence. Kimber tightened his jaws and balled his fists, then dug his claws into the soft material of his trousers with tantrum-like fury, rending the fabric in small

(you will never show your face again you do not bear our name from this day forward OUT WITH YOU OUT WITH YOU OUT WITH YOU OUT)

tears.

The polecat trembled, and he whined a pitiful noise. Though this was out of Jarreth's earshot, the ferret knew instinctively that something was wrong with his new acquaintance - but he said nothing. The boundaries has been set.

Slowly, Kimber lifted his head. Every feature of his face threatened to cry, but his eyes were still lit with scorn, so much so that Jarreth uneasily looked away.

In time, Jarreth rose, and then Kimber did the same. Together, they walked for the next town, and just past nightfall, they passed the town gates; in those long hours, they had not spoken a word to one another.

--9

Kimber was without possessions beyond his clothing, but Jarreth, being the cerebral creature he was, had a fair amount of gold coins and nuggets, among other small items for trade.

Forfeiting a small handful of coins, Jarreth bought the two of them dinner, a bland, but hot and filling stew, something the two of them certainly needed.

Jarreth's funds also acquired a room for them to share that evening, for in the time since they'd arrived, it started to rain; Jarreth was sure he could have braved it and slept outside to save money, but he thought Kimber had been through enough, though the true extent of that was yet a mystery to him.

With a glance up from the murky broth of his stew to Kimber's somber features, Jarreth saw that the blind fury he had witnessed that morning was long gone, replaced by a dull depression that left his eyes glazed and his face long. "I admit, this probably isn't the best food," he said in a low voice, but his tone was thoughtful and accessibly conversational. "It's something hot, at least, and you won't be hungry tonight. I'm sorry I can't do more for you."

Kimber replied with only a dismissive raise and droop of his shoulders, a half-hearted shrug at best. He had only taken a few bites of the stew, and though it was far from the refined meals he was familiar with, he could tolerate it - distantly, and with some dark humor, he acknowledged that he would have to. "Had you not come when you did, I'd be dead by now anyway," the polecat absently remarked, lifting his tired eyes from the bowl of food to return Jarreth's gaze.

Jarreth wished dearly to change the subject, but Kimber wasn't finished, and he continued in a droning, matter-of-fact tone. Jarreth was offered no room to butt in.

"Those bandits, once they realized I had nothing to pillage, probably would have assumed I might be valuable to my family for ransom. After all - these noble clothes of mine." He smiled, but without joy, and the crease of the polecat's lips unsettled Jarreth.

After quietly dropping the spoon into the bowl, Kimber interlaced his fingers and rested his chin atop them, lending himself an intellectual look, one offset by the bangs of his hair which hung over his face, appearing both immature and dashing. "After beating me until I finally told them my family name, they would've taken me straight home."

Jarreth at last broke in, but he was not to get far. "Kimber, that's all in the past now. They won't bother you again, not after--"

Kimber sharply raised a paw, interrupting the ferret, rendering him stymied. "And after my family denied me, condemned me, spit in my face and sent me away, the bandits would have happily tortured me to death." Kimber rubbed his temples, and began eating his stew again. It was seasoned with hunger.

Jarreth found himself infected with Kimber's earlier lack of appetite; he looked at the few remaining spoonfuls in his bowl with distaste, and he pushed the vessel away. In silence, he sat with the ex-noble and waited for him to finish eating.

When Kimber was done, neither creature had any desire to linger around the floor of the inn. The night was late, damp, and cold, and their day had been tiresome. Jarreth retrieved the key for the room, and they walked upstairs to the rooms together.

Jarreth unlocked the door, and in an instance of entitlement, Kimber bullied past him to enter first; Jarreth said nothing and wore only the tiniest of scowls as he locked the door behind himself.

The room was only tersely lit by a candle on the table, its' wick nearly down to the liquefied wax; Jarreth lifted it, and he used it to light the others that were strewn about the room, which created a more useful glow. The room was certainly cheap and small, but it gave them shelter and a soft bed, a welcome contrast to the outdoors.

Kimber thought to offer his criticisms on the room, but he felt too tired to even begin to complain. As he sat down on the bed, a plume of dust erupted from the sheets, and the room was beset with a musty stench that unsettled Kimber, but went seemingly unnoticed by Jarreth.

"Kimber," Jarreth said in a musing tone, already shedding his gear, leaving it in a neatly arranged pile near the bed, "why would your family deny you?" The query earned him a glance from Kimber, one welling up with that unmistakable fury, but as strange as the polecat had been acting since that morning, Jarreth was somewhat relieved to see him acting in a predictable manner.

"Because I brought shame to them," Kimber answered curtly, hugging the fluff of his own tail around his body in a gesture of self-comfort, as though it were a teddy bear. "I did no more, no less." His tone had an abundantly clear finality to it, and Jarreth wisely chose to push no further.

Kimber lay back in bed, not bothering to shed any of his own clothing. Though his clothes were dusty and filthy, so was the bed, but more so, he did not wish to be in any state of undress around Jarreth.

The ferret, undressed to only his trail-worn trousers, the entirety of his gear and other attire on the floor, took to a wooden chair near the candle-lit table; he had hoped to sleep in the bed, which was large enough for the two of them to comfortably fit in, yet it seemed Kimber had already claimed it.

But then an impulse struck him - it was the lie he had told himself earlier, but it now seemed appropriate for Kimber's ears. He believed it even less than he did before, but he hoped it might soothe relations with the polecat a little bit. "Kimber, about the night before," he started, twisting his long, flexible body so he could look over the back of the chair at Kimber's prone form, "it was never my intention to upset you the way I did."

He paused for only for a beat, but he thought it was a beat too long; he worried it made him seem insincere. "The night was cold. You were shivering in your sleep," he flatly lied, vividly remembering how warm Kimber's body was, how plush and cuddly his fur felt, even as filthy as it was - his clear recollection of those traits made it so much harder to continue lying to the former noble. "And so I chose to lay with you, and I held you close. I shared warmth with you for our own survival, Kimber." The words sounded hollow to his own ears - he wasn't sure if Kimber could detect it, but to himself, his lies sounded obvious.

"I see," Kimber answered in a low voice. Slowly, he sat up, but he found it more difficult than he expected. After sleeping on the ground for a few days, to suddenly have a bed - even one as ramshackle as that - made his muscles reluctant to move.

For many moments, in the dull, flickering orange of the candlelight, they shared a thoughtful gaze; Kimber's lip quivered with words he wished to speak, but none came to him. Finally, he scooted over on the bed, nearly to its' edge, and he let this unspoken offer hang in the air.

Jarreth rose from the chair, then he methodically blew out each candle. With trepidation lacing each step, he moved closer to the bed, and finally, so gingerly as to avoid touching Kimber's flank, he lay atop the sheets.

Rest came slowly and reluctantly to the both of them, but Kimber was the first to succumb; with nearly unbearable worry and anxiety, Jarreth gently pulled the ex-noble's slender, resting form close. His conscience screamed at him for this, but simple need and frayed nerves outweighed and silenced it.

Within only a few minutes of cuddling the polecat like so, Jarreth fell into peaceful sleep.

--10

Jarreth slept dreamlessly; soundly, but dreamlessly. If it was any quantifiable feeling, it was that of being in a void, and in that, it was peaceful. Nothing haunted him that night. The usual confusion, the regrets, these were absent. He actually slept with a smile on his face.

Kimber was not so fortunate, for while he appeared to sleep in peace, he was in turmoil inside. Past events came crashing down on him harder than ever; death, rejection, sorrow, scorn, it all boiled inside of him, endlessly churning like a blood-red sea of negativity and indiscriminate hatred.

After many eternities, the vivid visions and the mental exposition of what could have happened but did not began to taper off, and Kimber was left in a mockery of that empty void Jarreth was in - except Kimber was not alone in his. He was stricken with grief and rage, and with other emotions he could barely comprehend.

No relief came until he awoke in tears but not sobbing, and he realized he was warm, in a lover's embrace. For all of ten seconds, in the darkness of the room, he thought he was back at home, back in his bed, but that illusion faded. He knew he was being held by

(a servant a lowly servant how COULD you Kimber how COULD you WITH YOU OUT)

Jarreth. The dream faded into obscurity; the last tendrils of its' searing hatred relinquished him, but they promised to return with an unspoken hiss of venom.

He felt the ferret's bare, relaxed arm around him, but he didn't cast it off. He could hear the ferret's soft snore, an incessant drone he had been listening to in his sleep, and thus, he was used to it in his waking state. It was actually a comfort to him, and he somehow acknowledged this without any consciously bitter thoughts.

Trembling, weeping, fearing something he couldn't define even if ordered to do so at sword point, Kimber did what seemed most natural; he cuddled against Jarreth, embraced his arm, and cried himself back to sleep.

When Jarreth awoke at the first light of the sun, he was unaware of the dried tears on his arm; he gingerly pulled it out of Kimber's grasp and eased away from the polecat, all the while mentally berating himself for his actions.

--11

When Kimber awoke later in the morning, Jarreth greeted him with no words, only a wave. Kimber returned this, though at the same time, he rubbed the sleep from his bloodshot and bleary eyes.

The ferret was in the middle of sharpening the points of an arrow, the one that had delivered the fatal blow to the bandits' leader; punching into the vermin's skull had dulled its' edge considerably, but Jarreth proved himself capable of repairing this with a whet stone.

After he stepped out of bed, Kimber watched this repair from the side, his eyes lit with surprising interest that seemed to chase away his usual demons. "What are you doing?" the polecat asked, but without his usual haughty demeanor. The lack of that attitude was a startling thing to Jarreth, but he hid that from Kimber.

"Sharpening an arrowhead," he answered calmly, just briefly casting a glance up at Kimber. "I only have so many arrows, you see," he went on, scraping away shavings of the iron head until it had a point once again; the head was shorter, but just as deadly. "I could make or acquire more, but it seems foolish to waste them."

Kimber nodded slowly, as if in comprehension of the concept of wasting as little as possible, but it was merely a means to humor the ferret. Though he couldn't acknowledge it because he wasn't aware of it, he was gaining some pleasure just from the sound of the ferret's voice and company; waking up in the traveler's capable arms had begun an irreversible imprinting process.

Jarreth stopped scraping, and he blew sharply on the head of the arrow; shavings of metal flew in a fine powder, and then he examined the point carefully.

Almost cutely, Kimber leaned in, and he also looked carefully at the arrow's head, doing his best to study it, to see what Jarreth saw.

"So, it's important that they're sharp - I understand that. But can't a blunt arrow be lethal, too?" Kimber asked, shifting his gaze from the arrow to Jarreth's eyes, which were arguably sharper than the arrowhead.

"Yes, a blunt arrow can be lethal. In flesh, the difference is actually hard to discern - but an arrow with a good, sharp point on it is more likely to penetrate armor or bone," Jarreth explained. "Such as the skull of a threatening bandit." He offered this macabre and relevant example to Kimber, allowing it to hang for a few seconds; he saw the seriousness in the polecat's eyes, and then he he ran his thumb over the arrow's tip, finding it satisfactory.

"Do you get the point?" For all of five seconds, he kept his face straight, and then he smiled. It was a rare expression for him, but a genuine one; though obviously attempting not to smile back, Kimber broke, then laughed once, and finally collected himself again.

--12

Neither of them would smile or laugh again that day, but the memory was enough to keep them going on the tiresome and muddy walk to the next town.

All throughout the day, the bloated clouds threatened more rain, and on one occasion, they delivered on this. With no shelter in sight, they sloughed along through it; Jarreth was fit and healthy, but he feared that Kimber might grow ill from it. The fear was alleviated when the rain tapered off shortly after it began, however; and then, a promising sign for their travels, the clouds gave way to sunshine.

Come evening, Jarreth's energy was wearing thin. Beyond the ferret's canteen, they had brought no provisions with them, and a lack of any sort of lunch was catching up to both of them.

The ferret proposed they make camp; Kimber wasn't opposed. He surprised Jarreth by helping to gather what dry twigs and sticks he could, as well as a generous scattering of leaves and needles from the forest's floor to serve as kindling.

Jarreth started the fire and Kimber tended it while the ferret headed to the nearby creek. With a clever combination of arrows and rope, he landed a nondescript fish for the two of them to dine on, and he gathered fresh, cool water in the canteen they had emptied during the day. When he returned, he showed his catch to Kimber - who nodded solemnly, but was clearly hungry - and then he scaled, gutted, and impaled the fish with a sturdy stick. Afterward, he cooked it on this makeshift spit.

"Jarreth?" Kimber asked, looking away from the healthy glow of the fire and the cooking fish, meeting Jarreth's eyes.

"What is it, Kimber?" the ferret replied, turning the fish over; it was nearly done, the tender meat turning a delicate shade of whitish-brown.

"Why do you wander?"

Jarreth paused, and he absently prodded at the fire, stirring up a small flurry of embers. "That is difficult to answer," he said dismissively, and he hoped his brevity would deter Kimber, but his reaction was contrary; if anything, Kimber thought himself to have far more issues than an intelligent man like Jarreth.

"And what makes it so difficult?" Kimber pushed, his eyes exhibiting the same morbid curiosity as when he had ogled the dying bandit.

"It's personal," Jarreth grunted, casting Kimber a brief, but scorned glance. It shook the polecat, but it made him want the answer even more.

"Of course it's personal," Kimber said in an urging tone. "All things that bother us are personal. I know that as well as anyone," the polecat muttered.

"Then you also know that to have your personal problems exposed to the world is to have a wound torn open," Jarreth said in a low, warning tone, a side the polecat hadn't seen before.

"The fish is ready," he then said, his tone not necessarily amiable, but gentler than before. Both Kimber and Jarreth ate in silence, and they prepared to sleep soon after.

--13

"Kimber?" Jarreth asked, sitting where he would soon lay.

Cautiously: "What?"

"What would possess you to ask me a question like that?" Jarreth asked in a weary tone that didn't necessarily want any answer. He settled into the dirt, laying his head upon a long-emptied, folded-over cloth sack he carried for that purpose.

"Curiosity," Kimber admitted in a numb tone; guilt had long since settled in, and he couldn't bring himself to look the ferret in the eyes. "I thought it was an innocent enough thing to ask you."

Jarreth sighed, and he closed his eyes, but not with the intention to sleep; it was simply exasperation. "I suppose it is. Maybe I have more of a problem than I first thought."

"So, why, then?" Kimber asked once more, this time looking Jarreth's way.

"Why?" Jarreth asked back, though he spoke it as more of a statement, one underlined with a listless sigh. "I long to find somebody."

"I see," the polecat said. He studied Jarreth's face, and he took in his prevalent emotional and physical exhaustion; to see his savior and companion so haggard was subtly unnerving. "What kind of a person? Was it somebody who harmed you? A lost love?"

"Kimber, please," Jarreth sighed. "I happen to like your company. Don't make me change my opinion."

"Fine, fine," Kimber muttered with petulance, jerking his gaze away from the ferret, turning it to the steady, but dying glow of the fire. "I hope you find who you're looking for."

Jarreth opened his eyes to scrutinize the polecat, but only briefly. His eyelids felt as though they were weighted with lead, and keeping them open was an ordeal he failed at. I wonder if I hold the same hope, he thought, and then sleep took him away.

When Kimber heard the beginnings of Jarreth's gentle snores, he turned to look at the ferret. After a few absent prods to the fire with a stick, Kimber uneasily scooted closer, and he pressed against the ferret, face to face as two lovers might lie.

In his rest, Jarreth squeezed Kimber close, and in the ferret's grasp, mercifully dreamless and numb sleep stole the polecat away.

--14

When Jarreth awoke the next morning and found himself face to face with a sleeping Kimber, he felt the most horrible chill. Have I really done it again? In my sleep this time?

The ferret's stirring awoke Kimber, who yawned, and slowly opened his eyes. For the first time in days, they appeared smooth and well-rested; it was, indeed, a surreal calmness for Kimber to show, yet there it was.

Jarreth dreaded the inevitable moment when the polecat actually trained his eyes and realized where he lay - yet when he did, he simply sat up, and he said not a word.

Jarreth stayed put, lying lamely on the dirt, looking up at Kimber with an expression of utter shame. He awaited the scolding, Kimber's inevitable and justified tantrum, but none came. It was a deafening silence.

"Good morning," Kimber at last said. His voice was quiet and calm; Jarreth didn't know what to think.

"Likewise, Kimber," the ferret said with caution.

"I slept well," the ex-noble said, studying Jarreth's face carefully; the ferret knew when he was being scanned for weakness, but as far as he was concerned, his dumbfounded face shouted his insecurities; worst of all was that his morning wood tented his trousers in very plain view.

"I see," Jarreth said quietly. "I did, too."

"I wonder why that is," the polecat replied, his tone distant, but not cold. He looked away from Jarreth, down the road instead.

In silence, the duo walked to the next town. Kimber had nothing to say to Jarreth, and Jarreth was afraid of the potentially inflammatory things he, himself, might say.

--15

Kimber felt deja vu as they entered town, this one just as poor and grimy as the last.

Jarreth still felt some lingering unease, but silence and walking had rendered him a little bit tired; this mercifully stole some of the energy he needed in order to worry. With the desire to eat and sleep on his mind, social anxieties were pushed aside.

Adding to the sense that events were repeating themselves, the ferret found them an inn, and after a trade of gold - and the addition of a few reptilian hides he kept in his trade sack - he secured them a room. It wasn't raining that night, but it was cold enough for them to justify renting a room - for Kimber's sake, at least.

The pair ate an uneventful meal, a stew that was, remarkably, more bland than the food of the last inn, and they retired to their room, a shanty, but with a soft and recently-laundered bed.

--16

An inversion of their last stay at an inn, Kimber sat at the small and poorly-leveled table, while Jarreth sat on the bed after shedding his gear, but none of his clothing.

The polecat read a dusty and tattered book he'd found in the room - an upside to his former nobility was literacy - but Jarreth stewed in thought until he could take it no longer.

"Kimber, about this morning - I believe we should talk."

"What's to talk about?" Kimber said sardonically, not even bothering to look back at Jarreth; his tone cut into the ferret's heart like a knife.

"The way we awoke," Jarreth sighed, and this simple acknowledgment took the brunt of his courage.

"What's to talk about?" Kimber repeated, but with a flustered tone. "I slept close to you because I wanted to. I assume that's the reason you've done the same thing to me." Slowly, the polecat turned, and he entranced Jarreth with his eyes; though morose, his gaze was intelligent. Jarreth could see that burn.

"I..." Jarreth mumbled, blinking twice, "I see." Slowly, he lay back in the bed, and he folded his paws over his stomach. "I was afraid that had been my own doing, I admit."

Kimber turned back to the relic book, but he found it to be uninteresting tripe; poorly written and focusing on a subject dull enough to put him to sleep - the last thing he felt like being. It was a far cry from the library of books he had had access to in his previous life. "Well, I suppose you were wrong," he muttered.

Silence pervaded. Cold and unfeeling.

"Kimber?" Jarreth asked.

"What?"

"Why did you choose to lay with me?" Jarreth asked this in a small, cautious voice, only sticking his neck out as little as he had to, and slowly, he sat up again.

"Tell me who you're looking for, and why," Kimber retaliated, slamming the book shut in a plume of dust.

"What? No, Kimber, I can't..."

"Tell me," the ex-noble urged, turning until he sat sideways in the chair; their gazes met now, and Jarreth could see malicious curiosity in the polecat's eyes that broke him.

"Fine," Jarreth hissed under his breath. "I'm seeking my brother. He abandoned me."

"Your brother abandoned you," Kimber said, toying with the idea, getting a feel for it, "and so you enjoy lying with men?"

Jarreth's eyes were wide and glazed; Kimber's interrogation had left him staggered. When he tried to work his mouth, he said nothing.

"Or did your brother abandon you because you lie with men?"

Jarreth snapped his head away, and he gazed out the dark, grimy window. He gnawed his lip, and he so visibly stewed with anger and persecution.

"Do you know how people of nobility and good breeding view it when their only son is caught with the servant's naked body in his bedchamber?" Kimber asked. This earned Jarreth's sudden, undivided attention, and with it, he treated the ferret to a withering gaze.

Very slowly, Jarreth shook his head, and he fully acknowledged what thin ice he and Kimber were treading upon. He didn't think he had any kind of choice in this exchange, but at the same time, something dwelt beneath the surface; some kind of morbid curiosity.

"They see it as an abomination - an act in complete opposition to decency. They see it as a reason to shoo and shun the child they supposedly loved and cherished, and they see it as a reason to take the life of somebody whom I was selfish enough to condemn!" The polecat's lip quivered after the outburst.

Jarreth knew that tears were on their way - but he said nothing, did nothing. He couldn't diffuse the situation no matter how hard he tried.

"I may never unsee that execution - it haunts me when I sleep. Have you ever seen a head truly roll, Jarreth? The sheer detail of that damned execution, the sound the blade makes when it shears through the servant's neck! A deadly blade slicing bone - because that's the only part I can truly hear - the flesh is of no resistance. And the acrid smell of fresh blood! And the writhing!" He stood and he punted the chair back with a mule's kick; it scooted along the floor, and then it flopped back when the legs caught an uneven plank. "Why did his body move like that? It was as if I saw a blood-spitting serpent possessing that poor servant boy, and it was my fault!"

Tears freely streamed down Kimber's cheeks, his eyes wide and lit with marring veins. That was what it took for Jarreth; he began to sob, too. The curse of his intelligent mind was the imagination it commanded, and he, too, could see this execution, that which haunted Kimber and broke him so spectacularly. The ferret stood, and he ineffectually put his paw on Kimber's shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Kimber snapped, batting Jarreth's paw away, but in the next instant, he clung to the ferret like a child seeking warmth and comfort. He buried his face in Jarreth's chest and he sobbed, pausing only to sniffle hard, following each instance with a deep and pitiful bellow, as if the sobs built up if he didn't exorcise them. "It just won't leave me..."

Jarreth held Kimber tightly, grimacing, stifling his sobs back to only a few chokes. He stroked through the matted mane of Kimber's hair with one paw, petting down his back with the other. "Oh, Kimber," he shuddered, and the polecat squeezed him tighter; "oh, Kimber," he repeated, unsure of what else to say.

"Jarreth," Kimber whimpered, "lying with you has been my only comfort. I don't know why I'm cursed the way that I am, but..."

"But?" Jarreth said in a quiet, hollow tone.

"Don't leave me alone. I have nothing... Nobody. Please, Jarreth..."

In that moment, Jarreth felt needed more than ever before; leaving Kimber was the last thing on his mind. He sought his brother, but here was somebody that required him, and the more he stewed on the thought, the more Jarreth came to realize that he needed Kimber just as badly. Damaged as he was, the former noble soothed a ragged wound that the ferret bore.

Jarreth doubted if they were perfect for each other or if the weeping and trembling boy clinging to him felt love. It was simply a primal need for intimacy, but he didn't care. He was no better. "I won't," Jarreth answered, and he lay his chin atop Kimber's head.

Kimber sobbed less and less as Jarreth stroked him and cooed, but he never completely ceased. All the while, he shook hard. His hot tears soaked into the ferret's shirt and the downy fluff of fur beneath. Had anyone come to investigate his outburst and found them like so, that would be another town he'd be driven out of, but he didn't care; he couldn't comprehend any more misfortune.

When the polecat's sobs tapered off into obscurity and the still air was cut only by the polecat's sharp, suckling sniffles, Jarreth eased him back, and he put a single kiss between the polecat's exhausted and red eyes. "We should sleep, Kimber," he said softly.

Kimber bit his lip, and then he gnawed on it, all the while staring at Jarreth through a sheen of tears. Of his own accord, he eased back, a little farther, and farther still, nearly out of the ferret's arms. Then, in a sudden jerk, he thrust forward, forcing himself on Jarreth in a kiss.

It was so startling that Jarreth's own haggard eyes popped wide open, and he made a monosyllabic noise of surprise. He wrestled his way out of the kiss, his cheeks lit with blush, and he regarded Kimber's needy gaze with a soft shake of his head.

"Kimber," he said in nearly a whine, "Kimber, I can't..." Yet Jarreth went no further. He pulled Kimber close, his paws trembling. They kissed harshly and deeply; Jarreth knew of physical love, more so than the inexperienced ex-noble, and he took point, lapping over the innards of the polecat's maw.

Kimber whined blissfully in the kiss, and he submitted fully to Jarreth. The kiss alone was liberating beyond description, as were the ferret's roaming, strong hands and the feel of his toned body, chest-to-chest with his own. His long, luxuriant tail swished and his mind raced; he had no idea where he was going - and really, neither did Jarreth, a stranger to male love himself - but to explore the possibilities with Jarreth was exhilarating

Jarreth's fingers found the ties that kept Kimber's shirt on. He loosened the collar of the neck, exposing the polecat's frail chest through the V of the neck. He broke the kiss and Kimber made a needy sound, but when Jarreth started to take the garment off of him, he understood and held his arms up.

Left nude from the waist up, Kimber's figure was arousing to Jarreth, who had known only female bodies - but his lust always wandered to and wondered about men. With Kimber prostrate before him, he had to wonder no longer. He leaned down and nibbled on the polecat's neck; Kimber tilted his head back and to the side, offering himself with no shame. Nibbling, gnawing, grooming the fluff of Kimber's neck, Jarreth was unintentionally teasing and arousing both Kimber and himself. An erection throbbed in his trousers; Kimber whimpered in bliss and in need.

"Jarreth," he whispered; it was without purpose, a sweet nothing, but a call to act upon the sexual friction between them.

Jarreth took his broken friend and made him lie upon the bed; Kimber fervently unlaced his fly and kicked his own trousers away. Once elegant pants that punctuated his blue blood, they had become filthy and demeaning; he wanted no part of them.

In nudity, he found escape from his shameful nobility; in Jarreth's arms, he found solace. He had no idea what would come of combining the two, yet his body yearned. His member throbbed, more so when Jarreth lay a paw upon it and gave it a squeeze as he bent over the bed.

Kimber gasped at Jarreth's hurried touch alone, and the ferret took the opportunity for another kiss. This meeting of lips was more furious and wet than any before it; Jarreth lapped deeply in his friend's maw, across the ribbed palate and soft tongue. Within his paw, the polecat's turgid erection felt alien, throbbing with lust of its' own, but it also felt... Correct.

Throbbing in Jarreth's paw, curling his toes in delight, Kimber was a portrait of sexual pleasure. With trembling paws, he undressed Jarreth as he had been undressed, himself, undoing the ties of the neck of his shirt, and doing the same to his crotch.

Undoing those ties saw Jarreth's own member flop free, its' flesh half-erect but fast approaching its' apex. Tentatively, Kimber grasped it in his paw; Jarreth didn't melt, not the way he expected the ferret to, yet he still moaned encouragingly into the kiss.

Jarreth palmed Kimber's uncut, male flesh harder in return, and inversely, Kimber was emboldened, and he gave the ferret a few strokes. Jarreth eased from the kiss as his member drooled its' masculine, liquid musk into the polecat's mitt, and then he stood; Kimber sat up to follow him.

With no words, only a hungry glance into Kimber's eyes, he shed his clothing. Nude, his penis in Kimber's unsure grasp, he felt a pang of uncertainty - but of all things, a glance down at his own swollen cock reassured him that, though maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, it was what he wanted. With that in mind, he crawled into bed, next to Kimber.

The polecat still had a soft grasp on Jarreth's penis, and on it, he stroked and squeezed with increasing familiarity; the ferret pressed tightly to Kimber, and he peppered the polecat's short muzzle with kisses. "Jarreth, is any of this right?" the ex-noble quaked.

"I don't know," Jarreth admitted.

For Kimber, instinct acted in lieu of experience; for Jarreth, a little bit of general knowledge enough to get the both of them where they wanted to go. With care, he moved up to his knees, between the legs of the ex-noble.

Sodomy was something new, alien as a concept to him, yet it occurred to him immediately. As if we're supposed to be doing this. Clutching his swollen member tightly, Jarreth eased his swollen flesh beneath the former noble's scrotum, and with very obvious trepidation, he pressed his blunt tip to the pink, virgin pucker beneath it.

Kimber sighed, and then he bit his lower lip, looking to Jarreth for support and reassurance, getting neither; Jarreth looked just as nervous, and yet that was comforting in its' own bizarre way.

Jarreth took a deep breath, and then he let it out in a sigh that didn't relax him in the least. There was simply nothing for it. Holding his length firmly, unsure of what to expect - Jarreth correctly guessed the experience would be nothing like the wet warmth of a lady - the ferret pushed forward, and his pre-slickened shaft started to spread open the virginal pucker of Kimber's tail hole.

The polecat grimaced toothily and clenched his eyes shut; he could hardly believe the horrible pain of being penetrated, of having something so rudely shoved into what had been an exit up until that point. It felt like punishment for the thoughts and all that he'd done; his anal ring felt raw around Jarreth's invading flesh, and twice, he yelped and almost told the ferret to stop - it wasn't a change of heart either time, however. His voice simply broke on both occasions.

Despite all of that, the discomfort began to give itself over to pleasure; as Jarreth's shaft slid completely inside and the ferret's hips were butted up to his own, Kimber quaked in new and unusual pleasures.

Not unlike how his banishment ever lingered, the pain was very much present, but this was obfuscated by pleasure, mingling amongst it and making the contrast apparent. Panting, gripping the sheets without realizing it, Kimber lay flush against the bed, his eyes shut tightly.

Jarreth had been more reserved than the polecat, even though the pleasure had been great. In a logical part of his mind, he acknowledged that it would have been unwise to moan and grunt like an animal lest he attract unwanted attention, but the truth of the matter was that he was still unsure and wary of what he was doing. The pained look on Kimber's face only added to the discomfort of the act, but some sexual greed saw him continue to push in, until the entirety of his manhood was buried in the handsome ex-noble.

Kimber tugged upon the bedlinen and writhed at the awkward and backwards sensation of having Jarreth inside of him, but he craved more of this unusual pleasure, and he looked at his savior with beckoning eyes that quite clearly said everything.

Jarreth leaned down, over his friend, and they shared a soft and brief kiss, a ghost of the impassioned sucking and lapping from before. Slowly, his hips started to rock; the gesture was familiar to him from time spent with women, but the texture and the tightness of Kimber's anal passage made it entirely new.

Kimber bit his lip to stifle a moan as Jarreth began to carefully mate him. After releasing the sheets from his tight grip, he hugged the ferret closely, squeezing him about the neck in a manner that begged for love and intimacy. He whispered softly, and sweetly, but incoherently to Jarreth; the ferret picked up on only the tones he used, but he savored them - and he savored Kimber.

A little faster and harder, Jarreth's hips bumped into the polecat's own. His penis drooled its' musky, slick pre, more and more by the second; it failed to completely alleviate the pain, but it helped with a fair amount of it.

Similarly, Kimber's shaft oozed its' own slime all over his own belly, smearing into his unwashed fur. It didn't matter; none of that did. Jarreth was inside of him, having him; that mattered. What mattered even more was how close the ferret was. Whether it was love or lust, he didn't know. Neither of them did, but they both wanted that moment so badly.

Jarreth began to pant softly; Kimber nibbled on the ferret's lower lip. For Jarreth, the pleasure was reaching its' plateau, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer - but he didn't have to. Not with Kimber, who had no point of reference, who probably wouldn't last much longer than him. It was a game of exploration, not endurance.

Even harder and much, much faster, with Kimber showing no signs of pain beyond the rare wince, Jarreth took what he wanted and gave Kimber what he needed. He felt the polecat cling to him and heard his needing whimpers. Under his breath, he uttered some gentle nothing to the polecat; under his own, Kimber uttered one back.

Grimacing, grunting, clenching his eyes tightly, Jarreth pumped and pounded Kimber until, with a tingling burst of pleasure that made his spine arch and his body go as rigid as stone, Jarreth came. His orgasm made his cock twitch harshly in Kimber's tight walls, tweaking the ex-noble's anal flesh in ways that made him whimper in his moans. It twitched like this twice before the true orgasm struck, and he ejaculated. A thick, pent-up load filled the polecat's virgin passage; it made the polecat arch, and then he moaned deeply in gratification.

The moment was a haze to Jarreth; his orgasms were generally so few and far between that each one would've liked to knock him unconscious with its' sheer power, yet he remained at least somewhat lucid. "Mmh," he sighed, bumping his nose into Kimber's, "does it hurt you? Oh, Kimber, did you, too...?" Inarticulate and disjointed, almost nonsense, but Kimber understood this pillow talk perfectly.

"No, I didn't," Kimber whispered, and in that moment, that rare instant, his voice harbored no malice. No pain. It was a loving tone.

Jarreth genuinely smiled, and he moved up to his knees, defying Kimber's lazy embrace without much effort. He cast his gaze downward, on the polecat's shaft; veins had climbed to its' surface, and the flesh throbbed heavily. Pre drooled from the tip in gooey rivulets, and Jarreth knew his climax was close by.

The ferret took hold of Kimber's shaft; beyond a soft gasp and an anal clench that was involuntarily, yet deeply gratifying to both creatures, Jarreth began stroking off his ex-noble friend.

Kimber looked to him with desperate eyes, and he neared his orgasm with bated breath; Jarreth bit his own lip in concentration, and with a lick of bashfulness - self-awareness of what he'd done and what he was currently doing. Nothing can change the past. I can only go forward, Jarreth reminded himself.

Stroking Kimber's member harder and faster, making use of its' natural lubrication to great effect, Jarreth intently pleased his needy friend. With his thumb, he rubbed across the wet glans, and this wracked Kimber with a special kind of pleasure.

With a few more seconds of fervent masturbation from Jarreth, Kimber finally had his release; clenching even tighter on Jarreth, he gasped and groaned, but he bit his own paw to stifle his pleasurable sounds. A streamer of hot, white semen shot from his tip, followed by a second - then a third, and a fourth, all of them impressive in their volume.

In his afterglow, Kimber panted in contentment, and when the sensation wore thin, he drifted into a peaceful rest, one unmarred by nightmares. Sex with Jarreth was a vindication he could hardly fathom; freedom, release, love and intimacy he desperately needed.

Jarreth similarly slept at utter peace with himself; his brother's back as it slowly got smaller and smaller on the horizon - no matter how fast Jarreth ran after him - was not an element in his dreams. Nothing was. It was a void of rest.

But a red ripple tore across it now and again; it was the instinct he was loathe to validate. A storm is coming. If he could only know.

--17

That next morning, Kimber awoke Jarreth before the sun rose. He shook the ferret sharply, and he urged him under his breath. "Jarreth - Jarreth, wake up!" he hissed, and then he went back to jostling the traveler

Jarreth grunted and raised his weary eyelids in miraculous tandem, and then he blinked the sleep from his eyes a few times. Instinctively, he glanced away from Kimber and at the window; the very first rays of the sun were yet well over the horizon, and darkness reigned.

Why would he be waking me at this hour? Jarreth closed his eyes again - Kimber gave him a quick, frustrated shake which he managed to ignore. Unless... Somebody heard us. The night before. "Kimber, what is it?" Jarreth asked, trying his best not to betray anxiety.

"We have to go," Kimber whispered. Hysteria ruled his wide eyes. Jarreth opened his eyes and put a paw on the polecat's shoulder, but instead of downy fluff, he felt cloth; the polecat was fully dressed.

"Why? Kimber," Jarreth mumbled, and then he yawned heavily. Even the shock and the fear couldn't fully awaken him.

Kimber planted a kiss on his lips; it was quick and strangely loveless, coming across as another desperate grab for comfort. "They know," he whispered, and then he started to sob again. Quaking, weeping, he pressed close to Jarreth, and the ferret's heart sank.

"They know?" he whispered. "How did they find out?" Crude paranoia began to set in, and, counter-intuitive to the situation, he hugged Kimber close; he needed the comfort.

"They watched. They saw it all. They told me you're going to be next, Jarreth," Kimber bleated, muffled by pressing his face into the ferret's nude chest, but audible all the same. "My family saw us, Jarreth - they know what I did, what we did. I don't want to have to watch you die next..."

A dream. Or a hallucination. It occurred to Jarreth all at once, yet it didn't make him feel any better. If the owners of the inn wanted to chase them out, so be it - those were demons he could fight. He could no sooner solve Kimber's mental problems than his own, and the helplessness made him squeeze the polecat yet tighter and nuzzle into his hair. He knew Kimber wouldn't listen to reason; he doubted if the ex-noble was even fully aware, and so he said what seemed best. "They can't harm us, Kimber. I won't let them get to either of us."

Kimber ripped himself out of Jarreth's arms, only to force himself on the ferret in a kiss. Deep, sloppy, wet, it was of the same caliber as those from the night before, but it was punctuated by utter desperation and fear.

It ended as quickly as it came, and then Kimber rolled out of the bed, landing on his knees with a thump, but coming to no harm. "I just want them to leave me alone!" Kimber screamed, probably awakening half of the inn; an early checkout was in their future, but it was the farthest thing in either of their minds.

Jarreth scooted off the bed, and he knelt beside Kimber. One hand rubbed over the ex-noble's chest in a reassuring coddle; the other stroked the tousled mane of his hair in a similar manner. "Kimber, it's all right - I promise, please believe me..."

Kimber twitched away from Jarreth once, but failed to escape the ferret's grasp. In the end, he gave in, but his body quaked with unease and fear. Caricatures of his scowling parents and the sneering townsfolk haunted and chased him through every corner of his mind, and when he laid with Jarreth, they had finally caught up to him in the act. He grimaced and sobbed hot tears when they grabbed him, their ice-cold paws and hands digging into his skin and

(I can hardly believe)

ripping chunks of ragged flesh from his trembling body and

(what I'm witnessing)

clawing his eyes out of his skull. Yet even without them, he could see in this waking nightmare. Like a cattle to slaughter, they led Jarreth - naked, bearing the marks of a recent flogging, blood streaming down his face, teeth haphazardly beaten out of his mouth - up to the guillotine

(KIMBER)

and he compliantly lay upon it, his neck

(HOW)

bared. Overhead, under a sun that was blacker than any night Kimber had ever seen, the blade glistened

(COULD)

as if it were grinning. The executioner (the servant boy, minus head) tugged the rope and Jarreth's head

(YOU?)

rolled.

Kimber sobbed hard, bellowing and howling like death. His stomach rolled once, then twice, and on the third time, he heaved.

Dinner from the previous evening emerged in an unrecognizable and acrid bath of bile, followed by two more evacuations consisting of purely the latter. Kimber's somersaulting gut tried for a fourth, but a dry heave was all he got, and after three more of those painful, wracking convulsions, Jarreth squeezed him close.

The ferret trembled as badly as Kimber did, and the two of them only wept. No words. No lame attempts at comfort or reconciliation

How could I, indeed, Kimber thought flatly, and he began to sob all over again.