Tuesday, April 30, 2013

61 -Young Warbirds On Awakening

Dag turned her head into Yasna’s shoulder, murmuring sleepily.  It was so pleasant to not be on young-flock duty, and required to sleep in that room with its chancy door latch and the odours and noises imperfectly kept out by the too-thin door.  Not that any thickness of door would help against the annoyed screeches of a bird the equivalent of a human toddler, screaming because a stuffed toy would not do what it was supposed to do.

Yasna had come back up river after his clients, with the blessings of his abbot, to stay several days.  The bed was so warm.  It was so comfortable.  She was in a drowsy haze, half asleep, absolutely certain that she was hearing the young flock cheeping in their sleep.

“I’ve been raising chicks too long,” she muttered into Yasna’s ear.  He grunted, shifted onto his side and drew her in close, shoving the sweat-damp pillow out of their nest.  She pillowed her head on his bicep.

The quilts were a comfort, thick and heavy enough to keep the chill out, even if it managed to worm its way into the sun-warmed rock of the rooms created for the code-workers and chick-raisers of Lainz.  Yasna yawned.  She could feel his jaw move against her head and she kept her eyes resolutely closed.  She had promised herself a sleep-in, once she was off chick-duty.  It was a bit like being a new mother.

Yasna raised his head, and froze.  “Dag,” he said, carefully calm.  “Don’t jump, or yell, or we’ll have a bit of a mess on our hands.  You need to wake up and look at this, as calmly as you can.”

What? Dag opened her eyes and realized that all she could see, really, was Yasna’s armpit, raised her head to look at what he was looking at so intently.  Their bed was covered with her favourite blue quilts, and a half a dozen balls of rusty brown and white feathers.  “Oh, dark,” she whispered.

Chicks, when they woke, stood up and defecated where they stood.  Her chick... she could see the edge of its leg band, had apparently abandoned the flock and managed to bring its closest flock-mates to find her.  Of course it had somehow figured out how to open the doors to her rooms.  She could just see the bedroom door, half-open, without raising her head to startle the chicks awake.

No wonder they were so warm... with all these feathers on top of them.  Her chick was on her hip.  She could just feel the tickle of claws punched through the quilt, the whistling snore as it... and the others slept.  Who would have thought that warbird chicks would snore?

A thunderous knock at her front door made her jump, and Yasna and... oh, endarkened... all the chicks shot to their feet, and did what chicks do.  “Aw, ownershit!”

“Dag... Dag there’s chicks missing... oh.” It was Zara, peeking in.  She took in the chick and guano covered bed.  “Oh. Not anymore, oh dear.  I’m sorry.” But she couldn’t stop giggling as Dag and Yasna slid out from under the flock, landing bum first on the stone floor, to keep the dunged quilt from slopping over and covering them with bird doo. “I’m sorry.  I guess your bird missed you!”

Monday, April 29, 2013

60 - Better Than a Warbird

Wer held still, waiting with that incredible self control of his.  One of the hundreds of things Ky admired Werfas for was his discipline.  He swallowed hard and then, before he could change his mind, opened his mouth and tickled one of Wer’s dry, dusty fingertips with the point of his tongue.

He yelped and shuddered but didn’t snatch his hand away. His hand was on Ky’s wrist, the other ghosted onto his hip.  Neither snatched but their heat was there.  Kyrus set his free hand on Wer’s chest, felt the springy mat of hair there.  “Let’s... find out... how wingbrothers become lovers then?”

“Only if you’re sure.” His fingers, on Wer’s chest, vibrated with his voice as he answered.

“How on the planet are you actually still talking if you’re so lust crazed?” Ky couldn’t help blurting out.

“Talking?” Werfas’s fingers dug into Ky’s side and held onto his other wrist and suddenly it was tickling, which led to shrieking, half muffled laughter and then hands all over in the dark until they both had hold of each other.  “There,” was all Wer said.  “First... just... like...”

“Oh, endarkened, don’t you dare... let go!”  They thrust and rocked into each other’s hands, and then their mouths opened as Wer bent his head to Ky’s raised face.

“It... it doesn’t... fakkin’.... matter as ... long... as... there’s –“

“C...c...cc...aring!” Kyrus finished his sentence before kissing him again. Caring it was caring in his hands. Wer cared.  Kyrus knew that he cared and was cared for and cared in turn... it was... good... oh... Werfas shifted his hand and covered his head... already moist... with his thumb and it was so good and warm and oooh! He’d missed... missed Hara and his own hand was wrapped around.  Wer’s penis was thick, but not enormously long. It... he... felt good and he shuddered and slowed down his frantic thrusting, biting on the inside of his lip.  There... there... he pulled back from Werfas


“Shhh.  Let me show you something...” It was something he suddenly wanted to share.  He pressed his fingers firmly into the roots of Werfas’s testicles as he engulfed the tip of his penis with his mouth.  Werfas was hot against the insides of his lips and he held his mouth still while he stroked his wingbrother's penis with both hands.  Werfas spasmed and his hands opened and Ky grinned even without letting go his lips and pressure of his tongue.

“Oh... oh... ancestors ancestors ancestors.” Werfas’s voice was a chant with the tremors running all over his body as he bucked his hips.  The bedsack was slipping so that their heated, suddenly sweating space cooled as the night cold found its way in the edges, but it felt good.

Kyrus took a deep breath and let Wer all the way into his mouth, smoothly, quickly, grasping around his hips to pull him deep into his mouth, careful of his teeth and felt the beginning of his orgasm from his quivering legs, up into his hands and flooding his mouth.  He had his eyes clenched shut and rode out Wer’s bucking, suddenly, wildly, pleased and excited, wondering at himself.  It’s not the kind of skill you shout from the rooftops in Lainz.  You don’t advertise how good you are in bed with men.  But it feels good, even though I’m supposed to be ashamed of it.  And Wer... you’re wonderful.  It feels so good to feel how deeply I’ve touched you.

He let Werfas slide out of his mouth and wiped his lips on his skin, slowly, savouring the quivering response from his wingbrother.  “I bet you didn’t think I could do that,” he said.

“But... but... um...” With a huge sigh, Werfas rolled them over until he cradled Ky in his arms, kissing him till he was dizzy.   
“Your turn.”

“But... um... but...”

“Sharing.” Was all Wer said before he in turn slid down to take Ky’s penis in his mouth.  He’d softened and shrunk but Werfas pulled him into his mouth entire and held him there, tonguing him until he hardened and swelled up.

“Oh... oh... oh...” it was just so generous.  Oltarios had shared his hands but never his mouth.  Kyrus had found, with Hara, how hot and sweet it was to have someone enjoying sucking on him and Werfas’s mouth... was bigger and his tongue more insistent and and oooh... oh.  Werfas had him around the waist and was big enough to grasp one of his ankles with his other hand.  He clutched and found his fingers clenched in Wer’s hair.  He could feel him starting to laugh as he as he as he... “Oh, enlightened owners!”

The shocks echoed through him, through the taste of Werfas’s semen on his tongue and his kisses and their sweat... it wasn’t wrong.  Caring.  He cared for Werfas.  Werfas cared for him.  It didn’t mean ownership or anything like that.

As Werfas slid up and they wrapped their arms around each other, settling the bedsack to straighten out the fearful wrinkles they’d damped into it, Ky smiled in the dark.  “There.  Now wasn’t that better than your warbird?”

Werfas froze for a second then tried to smother his belly laugh against Kyrus’s shoulder but he just couldn’t quiet himself and Kyrus’s higher giggle along with it earned them another bellow from the next bed over.  “Will you two young idiots shut up and let people sleep?  We’re riding before sunrise so shut the fak up!”

59 - The Lin Reports

Weather Watch: Lin report: First Year of Our Current Radiance

The Rain Report

Our watcher, recently despatched to the edge of the world, South Trovi, reports that the winds from the south have begun and the distant clouds are heavier, signalling that the fall rains should be sweeping north in the next week.

Water levels in the Black Canyon are at Hell Season low but stable and congruent with other years, so the water situation has not changed for this year.  Things should blow through as usual.  Our weather watchers will, of course, instantly report should anything change.

Editor Datrus’ Note:

We here at the Lin centre, Lainz City, are pleased to support our writers from the furthest North Milar down to the tip of South Trovi, from the Eastern badlands edge to the Western Razor Cliffs, keeping all Lin readers informed of things of concern to them.


It seems that the latest crop of chicks, specially chosen, specially treated, from generations of docile birds, will bear fruit at long last!  The birds appear to be domesticable, somewhat like a dog.  For our readers who have never been fortunate enough to have seen a dog, one may look at ferrets and rabbit pigs, for comparison.

The young flock accept their human tenders with friendliness and devotion that make them invaluable.  No longer will we be forced to use a half-wild thing on the end of a chain as a means of motive power or transportation.  Though a donkey or a horse would be exponentially more valuable for the manure they produce that helps the planet become more human friendly, the birds are acclimatized and are easier keepers on harsher territory.

“Kyrus.” Werfas’s voice was soft.  “You do know that if we do have sex it won’t mean that either of us owes the other anything—“

“—or that either of us owns the other. Yes, I know.”  Kyrus held himself totally still, except for his penis which had an agenda all its own, no matter what his larger head thought.

“Did you mean we should keep, um, sharing warmth?”  In the snug sleep-sack, with icy fingers of desert wind pulling at the edges, sucking heat out of them all around, his voice shook in the dark.

“Um... I... um... Well, I put the bed together, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you feather clot, but I can’t take anything for granted, now, can I?”

Kyrus couldn’t help but giggle.  “You’re so romantic!  You bakon leaving!”

“Um... you oyuck slime?”

By this time they were whisper giggling both.  “You charmer!  Of course I’m going to throw myself into your bed and say ‘take me, you herd-stud!’”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’ve ever seen the size of a warbird’s penis!”

They laughed until their middles were sore and someone already trying to sleep just over the tiny hill of sand grumped at them to be quiet.  That set them off again but they had their hands over each other’s mouths and suddenly Kyrus was very very aware of how Werfas’s bare lips felt on his fingers.  He stopped laughing with a sigh, felt how his breath heated Wer’s fingertips.  Oh.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

I Just Got Home

Hey guys... I just got home (1:48 a.m.) and my next shift is tomorrow at 2 p.m. till closing... so my Friday post will be put off till Sunday!


Friday, April 26, 2013

58 - The Font of All Knowledge Speaks

Instruction The First
By Perrin Thurmentaler

It is by nature that mankind is suited to a feudal structure.  When over-elaborate, unwieldy forms of self-governance break down, men tend to flock to the few strongest among them, and look to them for guidance.  By strongest I mean either strong through force of arms, or strong through force of intellect.  If one has the ownership of the greatest amount of land and goods, then one is obviously the smartest of the lot.

Thus our enlightened and rational government was born.  I, as the sole owner and proprietor of the planet, dictate who shall live there and what access they shall have to the greater, corrupting civilization.

We have the First Class, all those who are my closest peers who can handle the pernicious and insidious corruption of too much eduction. They have permission to access almost all of the scrutinized technology that is present to terraform our beloved planet.  A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, so the First Class willingly submit to our most careful scrutiny and security, with periodic checks of their adherence to our moral code.

Our Second Class are our technicians and workers, who have a strict limit on their eduction.  They can read, but must read only the texts allowed for their particular career, and certain entertainments after our priestly censors have allowed their publication.

Our Third and Fourth Classes are our Illiterates, kept safe from over-intellectualization, not needing to bother with such time-wasters as reading.  They have the strength of their arms and their pure and unsullied, innocent selves as their strength and their shield.  They, should they require entertainment of any kind after their labours of the day, are allowed the regularly scheduled programming at the community centre, and the regular governmental radio broadcasts, daily.  All other high technology is forbidden them, lest they be made uncomfortable and unsettled by insidious thoughts and ideas.

Keepers are the voice of the women of the First and Second classes and are of those two classes, traditionally.  Their chain of office is blue and gold, with a medallion depicting an open book.

Women are members of their husband’s or their father’s or their brother’s class.  Learning is even more insidious for them, and they are required to be the grand ornament upon the arms of their men.  Let women not speak but let her Keeper speak for her.  He will walk at her back, no more than three paces away, wearing his chain of the office to denote his status.  He is required to listen to her words and repeat them so they may be given appropriate weight and authority.

The Third Class are allowed artistic expression, of course, but must submit all artworks for approval to the village information priest.  The creators of the entertainment for the masses shall be drawn from the Second Class.

Only the First Class are allowed the luxury of maintaining horses.  Dogs and cats are allowed for the Second Class. Rodent pets are acceptable for Illiterates.

Remember that the code, bought and paid for and maintained by the Font of All Knowledge, is what keeps the planet running and becoming more and more like Earth.  Remember your place and keep it whole.  Don’t get above your raising.  Be content in the life that you have been given.