The Demon Fucker

[daddybear54]

Part 1:  The Legend

 

An old Scottish legend, echoed in the mythologies of several other proud and ancient lands, tells of a woman who is enticed away from home,husband, family, and everything of value to her by a demon who appears to her, taking the form of her dead sailor lover.

 

Hamish McAlpine read the description in a respected online reference source and snorted indignantly. It was so completely wrong, on so many levels, that he couldn’t believe they’d actually had the nerve to publish such trash.

 

For starters, he wasn’t a demon. Not even close. He was immortal, true, but that wasn’t how he’d been born, nor was it by his own choice. Some people might think he’d enticed Alan, although he could have sworn it was totally 50-50 -- so who enticed whom? He had certainly not appeared as a dead sailor – what a ridiculous notion! Hamish could and did get seasick crossing a river. In fact, he had absolutely no power to shift his shape. All he could do was change his clothes and his hairstyle. He’d appeared as he always did – as himself, forever aged 32 “and a bit.” Most outrageous of all, the supposed “victim” wasn’t even a woman. Alan was a man – all man, the most sexy and magnetic man Hamish had ever met in his 988 years of life.

 

And it wasn’t as if Hamish had ever lacked for interested men. He’d planted multiple loads of his immortal seed deep in the tight assholes of more than a few kings, ranging from Richard the Lionheart to Frederick the Great, with a little fling with James VI of Scotland thrown in along the way. He’d fucked, or been fucked by, dozens of men named in the history books, from the great through the not-so-great and all the way to the downright-dirty ones, down through the centuries.

 

There’d also been a few missteps, a few intimate exchanges which ended badly with the party of the second part swearing vengeance, and demanding satisfaction. The results in these duels were predictable: Hamish would let himself be killed, then he would promptly resurrect, and the other man would either run screaming in terror or just blink and berate himself that his aim was so far off.

 

Hamish had been immortal for so long that he scarcely recalled what his life had been like before it got extended indefinitely. He had vague memories of living in the servants’ quarters of a Scottish baronial castle, of acting as a footman, opening doors, bowing, delivering food from the kitchens to the Great Hall. His memory was a bit better when it came to his spare-time activities.

 

Start with Neil, an apprentice armourer. Hamish had walked into the armoury one rainy afternoon, expecting to pick up a spear that was being rebalanced for the Baron. Instead, he found Neil bent over with the blacksmith’s spear embedded in his rear gate. Hamish had gotten down on his knees to suck on Neil’s cock, and soon pulled the sperm up and out as the blacksmith filled the young guy’s ass with his load. The blacksmith pulled out and went back to his forge but Hamish stayed when Neil invited him to fuck him some more. Hamish had driven his cock right into Neil’s butt, still full of the blacksmith’s seed, and the sensation soon drew his own cum up and out, filling Neil up to the point where the combined loads of sperm gushed and squirted out as Hamish kept pounding into his hole.

 

But Neil was by this time getting hard again, and he pulled away, turned around, bent Hamish over, stripped away his clothes, and swiped a handful of the cum from his ass as lube. This was Hamish’s first time getting fucked, and it hurt like hell. He could hear the blacksmith laughing in the distance as the cries of pain were ripped out of Hamish’s throat. But the cries slowly evolved into moans of satisfaction as it became apparent that, in this area at least, the apprentice had definitely mastered some skills. Neil proved to be a first-rate top as well as a pliant bottom, and that combination of gifts kept both of them happy for the next year or so. But then Neil left, to take up a position as blacksmith and master armourer at another castle.

 

More memorable still was Ian, fellow footman with a slim, firm body, blazing red hair, and an equally roving eye. It didn’t take any time at all, after Ian was recruited onto the castle staff, for Hamish to recruit Ian for after-hours extra work. Ian was the kind of man who would bend over any time for any man who asked and Hamish asked – early and often.

 

They started with quickies snatched on the fly in the storage cellars, on the back stairway, or after hours in the kitchen. Hamish would walk up behind Ian, rub his hand across the seat of Ian’s breeches, and the younger man would turn to putty. Hamish would yank Ian’s breeches down, bend him over, release his own hard cock from his clothes, and proceed to plow that lovely Scottish ass with its light coat of flaming red hair. Even after Hamish had fucked him dozens of times, Ian’s hole remained delightfully tight, and it took very little time – sometimes as little as two minutes – before the tightness, and Ian’s quiet moans, pulled Hamish right up to the brink. Then he would pound ass, as fast as he could go, until his cum exploded in a frantic burst of energy inside Ian’s hole.

 

Later on, Hamish reached a senior footman position and got a room of his own. It was cold, drafty, and dark, and the straw pallet was all he had in the way of a bed but still… it was private. Ian and Hamish enjoyed many hours of their off time, romping on that pallet. It gave them much more latitude to explore a whole variety of positions for sex. Since Ian’s cock was both shapely and not too thick, Hamish always enjoyed sucking him off. Ian particularly like the nights when Hamish would take him through their entire repertoire of positions, fucking him up, down, and sideways for several hours and planting several loads of seed deep in the redhead’s ass. In time, Hamish got hold of a bigger pallet and they were actually able to sleep together. Ian just loved cuddling up to Hamish after a good, hard fucking, and falling asleep with Hamish’s arms wrapped around him.

 

There was no real love on Hamish’s side of the relationship. To him, Ian was a damn good fuck with a firm body who was always ready, able, and willing – but that was it. Ian understood that, and didn’t resent it, being grateful to always have hot sex there whenever he wanted it (and that was often).

 

Life got a bit more tiring when the Baron’s second son, Robert, took to summoning Hamish in the evenings to help him relax for sleep. That started after Robert caught Hamish and Ian one night, enjoying a quickie for old times’ sake on the back stairs. Robert’s favourite form of relaxation was to slide his far-from-tiny cock deep inside Hamish’s firm ass when Hamish was on his hands and knees on the bed. Robert would then drive inside that hole deep and hard, sometimes keeping going for as long as an hour, and cumming inside Hamish as many as three times in a single extended fuck. He also demanded that Hamish prove his “loyalty” by cumming too.

 

Robert was far too fastidious and dignified to let the lowly Hamish fuck him or suck him, or even shoot on him, so Hamish had to make do with his hand, with his back turned to Robert (who was actually quite a pleasant sight when undressed), and with Robert’s cock slamming into him at top speed. It all made for exhausting sex as well as a fierce ache in the nether regions, and left Hamish sometimes too tired to do the honours for Ian.

 

Life underwent a dramatic change when the Baron decided to revive his struggling treasury by selling the services of his “private army,” as he called it, to the English King, Harold Godwinson, for a generous fee. The “army” actually consisted of a ragtag group of peasants and shepherds, “organized” (to use a slightly misleading term) under the direction of the castle’s senior servants. The Baron and his sons were nowhere to be seen – sensibly, as things turned out.

 

During the trip south to England, Ian died in a bizarre freak accident. He lost his balance while fording a river, cracked his head wide open on a rock, and that was that. Hamish didn’t mourn overmuch. It wasn’t as if he had fallen in love with Ian, so what he mainly was conscious of was that he’d lost his favourite outlet for his most significant talent.

 

In any event, this journey ended when they joined up with the English army at the beginning of October 1066. The King and his forces were marching to meet the invasion of Duke William of Normandy. The clash was due to happen near Hastings. William, of course, was destined to win immortality and a throne by winning the battle, which altered the entire course of English history.

 

Hamish, though, was destined to win immortality of another kind altogether. That was the one part of his story that was due to demonic interference. One of the Norman knights lined up to participate in the invasion of England had fallen prey to his fears the night before the Norman army sailed for England. He’d called on a local sorcerer who had conducted a black mass to lay a spell of invulnerability and invincibility upon his sword.

 

It had worked – in the sense that the dark power had undoubtedly invaded and possessed the blade. The unforeseen consequence was that the power of the sorcerer’s black arts leaped into the 32-year old Hamish when the knight stabbed him to the heart, as the Scottish mercenary defended the English right flank. Hamish died – but then promptly resurrected in immortal form. Meanwhile, the unfortunate knight got killed seconds later by one of the English knights.

 

The real pity of it all was that he was a definite looker, as Hamish saw when the dead man’s armour was removed. He’d have been happy to have enjoyed a week or three – or more -- of mutual fucking with a man as well-built and well-hung as that one. Oh, the ironies of fate.

 

Hamish got more out of the knight’s meddling with the black mass than just immortality. He also got sent back to earthly life in perfected form. His face, formerly pleasant enough, became devastatingly handsome. His shoulders broadened; his waist tightened. His originally short cock lengthened to a seriously challenging, eight-inch-long, uncommonly thick, weapon of choice for his favourite kind of duelling. Add on a newfound, intimidating level of bedroom stamina and Hamish McAlpine had become a major challenge for all of the man-loving men who would cross his path for the next millennium or so.

 

[drew4fun]

Very distinct subject, well written, love it buddy!

 

[daddybear54]

1 minute ago, drew4fun said:

Very distinct subject, well written, love it buddy!

 

@drew4fun thanks!

[Assmunch]

I’m loving this!   Please keep going!

[daddybear54]

27 minutes ago, Assmunch said:

I’m loving this!   Please keep going!

@Assmunch thanks! Definitely at least 4 more on the way! It keeps growing as I work on it!

[daddybear54]

Part 2:  The Lionheart

 

A key turning point in Hamish’s life came in 1188, when he was having a good time out of bed (as the body-servant), and a grand old time in bed, with the son of a renowned English duke. So cozy did their relationship become that they even had a schedule worked out: Hamish fucked the duke’s son on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; the young duke-in-training fucked Hamish on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays.

 

To be honest, the duke’s son, name of Gilbert, was not terribly well equipped, so his fucking skills were far surpassed by Hamish’s ability with his much larger tool. Even the heir admitted that to be true, but he maintained that he was by far the higher in social status, so he should have top spot on the majority of nights.

 

But when Hamish did get to exert his privilege on those three weeknights, the results were a sight to behold. He could quite easily keep going now for an hour before cumming, and then could blast three huge loads into his partner’s fuckhole in the space of much less than thirty minutes. “Blast” was the appropriate word; the young nobleman could feel each individual shot smacking against his prostate when Hamish fired. By the time he’d shot the third load in, his seed was seeping out all around his cock, and his fucking motions were making squishy, slurpy, smacking sounds. Once he pulled out, there would be a slow-motion torrent of cum out of the gaping ass, and Hamish would alternate on various nights between licking it all up or scooping it onto his dick, pushing it back into the gaping hole, and going for a fourth round. 

 

Sooner or later, though, it was inevitable that the duke would catch on, and when he did, Hamish quickly found himself banned from the duke’s lands, and lucky not to have been killed and resurrected yet again. That put him at a loose end for a few months, which he bridged with various odd jobs. It occurred to him that his best chance of getting a stable position somewhere was to work on his music.

 

A few decades back, he’d had a thing for a while with a travelling singer and harper, and the artist had taught him the basic notes. Irony, again – the old Hamish, before the Battle of Hastings, had been rather clumsy with his fingers, but now he grasped the technique quickly, and the principles of the chords and modes, and was soon doing a more than passable job. Not only that, but since being brushed by the sorcerer’s black magic, he had gained a captivating singing voice. He now bought a second-hand harp and began practising again, soon reaching even higher levels of proficiency. There was always demand for minstrels to sing in noble and royal houses. With any luck, he might land a permanency. While travelling with the harper, he had also managed to learn a decent command of Breton and Norman French, and of several German dialects.

 

The one obstacle was the aggrieved duke, who had done a lot of talking around in noble circles about his son’s ex-servant. Hamish thought a bit more and started shaving off his rather prominent beard. He also shortened and curled his hair. With these changes, and an entirely new wardrobe, he looked positively baby-faced – without question the most youthful-looking 154-year old in any of the world’s kingdoms.

 

Thus, armed with a boyish new look and musical skills to burn, he made his way to London and the royal court of Richard I, a.k.a. “the Lionheart,” who had just inherited the throne after the death of his father, Henry II. It was July of 1189, and Richard was busily occupied with plans for his impending departure to the Third Crusade. But he was not too preoccupied to notice the truly magical singing and playing of a travelling minstrel, and quickly sent a chamberlain to offer the singer a permanent court position. When the chamberlain asked his name, Hamish replied (with a French accent), “Blondel.” He meant it as a joke, a caricature of the well-known French troubadour of that name, but the chamberlain (knowing little of France) took it at face value.

 

The king was truly delighted with “Blondel” as his permanent minstrel, quickly discovering that his musician had many other talents besides music and languages. The truth was that Richard was driven not only by the urge of military conquest, but by the urge of more personal conquests as well. Since he was drawn sexually to both men and women, the gender of his new minstrel was irrelevant to the chase. Hamish well understood that the way to a man’s purse is through his bed, and in no time was alternating tops and bottoms with the king while storing away a tidy sum in nightly tips received from the courtiers for his singing in the great hall.

 

Whether taking or giving, Richard was equally voracious. When the mood took him, he thoroughly enjoyed plowing his minstrel deep and hard, over and over, and pumping multiple loads into him. Although initially Richard insisted on doing it doggie style, after a while he became sufficiently comfortable with “Blondel” as a person that he decided to fuck him face to face. Hamish actually enjoyed lying on his back, pulling his legs up, and letting Richard work him over.

 

Their relationship deepened to the point where Richard would lie right on top of his court musician as he slammed deep into the singer’s tight ass, enjoying the phenomenal grip of the muscles (like everything else about Hamish, his ass control had been miraculously improved after 1066). Their hands would stroke and caress over each other’s bodies as the king drove his cock into his singer, repeatedly. Hamish enjoyed it so much that it became common for him to cum hands-free as Richard shot a huge load inside him. It also became common, although neither one talked about it, for them to exchange multiple kisses as Richard wound down after the act.

 

As a bottom, Richard was even more demanding. He would pepper Hamish with frequent injunctions to “ram that big rod into me… fuck me silly, stud… pound me with that dick… fuck me harder… harder, dammit!... shit, man, you’re gonna make me cum… fill me up… cum inside me, you devil, you!” And much more along the same lines, all actually gasped out in a mixture of Norman French and medieval English.

 

 Note: this writer’s translation of all dialogue is approximate.

 

Richard’s identification of him as a “diable” certainly made Hamish laugh to himself the first time Richard used the phrase. But when the king demanded that his minstrel cum inside him, Hamish gladly delivered the goods. In fact, if he was honest, between Richard’s hardened military body, the hot sex talk, and the affection which the king showed after the nightly battle on the bed had ended, Hamish was closer to falling in love than he’d ever been before.

 

But he didn’t let himself go completely over the edge. He knew damn well that the Lionheart’s first, and really only, love was the military campaign, the strategy, the triumph, the conquest. He also knew that the courtiers were jealous of how completely he had managed to occupy Richard’s off-hours. “Blondel” was making it very difficult for the Norman barons to deliver bribes to the king without being publicly seen doing so.

 

So, in the spring of 1190, as Richard went full-throttle into raising funds and an army for the Crusades, his minstrel begged leave. Richard was not at first willing to let him go, but when “Blondel” explained about his propensity for sea-sickness, the king reluctantly allowed him to depart seven days from the morrow. That gave them one last week of memorable nights in bed together.

 

At last, it came to the final night before “Blondel” was set to depart. Their time together began in the usual way, with Richard getting on top and reaming out his singer. The Lionheart was truly becoming addicted to Hamish’s incredible ass, the way it stroked Richard’s cock from root to tip with the silky-smooth walls, the warmth of the friction as the tight hole alternately caressed and squeezed his dick. Richard definitely wanted to make it last tonight, since it was the last time (at least for a while) that they would be together, so he kept stopping and lying still on top of “Blondel,” gently feeling the man’s magnificent body while he recovered his normal poise. Then he would begin fucking again, varying pace and angle, while Hamish’s wonderfully responsive body transmitted immense vibrations of enjoyment throughout his entire being.

 

At last, Richard knew that the time was at hand, and he proceeded to rouse himself up and pound “Blondel” like he’d never pounded him before. In no time, he had the minstrel gasping for breath, and barely able to frame the word “Yes… yes… yes…” over and over. Another minute of this rapid-fire tattoo of fucking brought Richard’s seed surging up through his cock and pumping forcefully out into his singer’s ass, shot after shot after shot, and four or five more distinct pulses after that. Hamish came at the exact same time, the sharp contractions of his hole squeezing more cum out of the royal cock and more roars of ecstasy out of the royal throat.

 

Richard lost the strength in his arms and fell down on top of “Blondel,” gently moving his cock in the musician’s hole while he began kissing him with tongue. They made out like that for a good five minutes, enjoying every minute of the exchange between them. At last, Richard extracted his still-hard cock and rolled off to the side, lying there and catching his breath while they continued kissing and caressing each other.

 

By this time, Hamish’s awesomely quick manhood was well on its way to becoming totally rock-hard again. But Richard had other things on his mind. He released himself from his minstrel’s embrace, got up out of bed, and went to the worktable near the window, returning with a scroll of parchment tied with a ribbon.

 

“Here, Blondel. This is for you.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Open it.”

 

Hamish untied the ribbon and unrolled the scroll. In it he found the words of a song, with a line of music to convey the tune. It was plainly a love song, but not an especially personal one – rather, an ode expressing the king’s love for the sheer beauty and poignancy of his minstrel’s music-making.

 

Hamish looked up at the king, who said, simply, “I wrote this for you.”

 

Hamish nodded. He was well aware that Richard was, among many other talents, a gifted musician and composer in his own right. Praise from him for music went far beyond the normal courtly compliments a minstrel might expect. Hamish struggled to find words. “This is so beautiful… I can’t…,” and then, embarrassingly, he dissolved into tears.

 

Richard planted a companionable hand on his shoulder. “You deserve it. You’ve brought so much joy to so many people in my court through your singing, and to me.”

 

“Thank you, your majesty.”

 

“Oh, come now, Blondel, here in my chambers you should call me by my name. You’ve earned that right, too.”

 

“Then… thank you, Richard.”

 

“Okay, enough getting emotional. Come on back to bed and thank me properly.”

 

Richard promptly laid down on the bed, looking at Hamish with a dirty, suggestive smile and wink as he lifted his legs into the air. Hamish’s spear immediately sprang to “battle ready,” as he moved between the king’s legs, facing the splendid muscular royal ass one last time.

 

This night, Hamish truly outdid himself, plowing the king nonstop for an hour and a half, and releasing no less than four loads of his immortal seed into Richard’s quivering body. All the time, they were gazing into each other’s eyes, exchanging the closest thing to lovers’ vows that they would ever achieve. As Hamish reached his fourth climax, they came together again, a treasurable moment of pure union and ecstasy.

 

That final night together was also the first and only time that Richard stopped Hamish from getting out of bed once the action ended. “No, Blondel. Stay here and sleep with me.”

 

“But the servants….”

 

“Never mind them. Everyone knows about us anyway, so why worry? And tonight, I would welcome the company. Come here.” They snuggled up together, embracing each other, and fell asleep like that.

 

In the morning, “Blondel” departed, with a generous gift of gold (the expected kingly gift in such a situation) and riding on a truly fine chestnut stallion from the royal stables (a gift which wildly exceeded the norm for a talented minstrel). With it, he carried Richard’s official scroll of royal thanks, and (tucked away in his bag) the even more treasured scroll with Richard’s song for him. Within a month, Richard was on his way to the south of Europe and his own appointments with destiny in Sicily, in Cyprus, in Palestine, and afterwards on his hazardous trip home through central Europe. Although Richard had openly asked “Blondel” to return to his court some day, they were never to see each other again.

 

After that, the story gets a little murky. Hamish himself could never recall, in later centuries, exactly how or why he ended up near Durnstein, in Upper Austria, in early 1193. What was certain was that he sang Richard’s song during a banquet hosted by the lord lieutenant of Durnstein Castle. It was also clear that Richard faintly heard the song from the dungeon where he had been imprisoned after Duke Leopold of Austria had captured him for ransom during his journey home from the Crusades. Richard had no trouble recognizing his own song of praise, deduced that the singer could only be one man, and joined in at the top of his lungs.

 

The rest of the lovely old legend of Blondel discovering the place of the king’s imprisonment is just that – a legend. “Blondel,” who was no longer calling himself by that name anyway, didn’t hear the imprisoned king through the stone walls, and Richard was promptly rebuked to silence by the jailor, who didn’t appreciate the captive’s singing as he was tone deaf. So much for the romance of popular mythology. In fact, it wasn’t until after Richard’s death in 1199 that Hamish learned that his old friend had been immured in the stronghold at the time. That realization gave him a real pang of regret for a missed opportunity.

 

“Friend” was actually the right word. As unlikely as it might seem, a genuine friendship had grown up between the two men, and it had survived the changing tides and fortunes of life through the next decade. Hamish even surprised himself by his emotional reaction to the death of the Lionheart. In a century and a half of life, he had never before had any cause to grieve the passing of anyone he’d known. Although the word “love” was perhaps too strong a word to use, there was no doubt that Hamish held considerable affection for Richard, and that his affection was fully returned.

 

But, being the man he was, Hamish had to set his face to the future and move on. He’d already endured enough of eternity to know that his fate was always to grow into other people’s lives, and then have to leave them behind as time swept them away, leaving him to carry on alone. The answer, as he saw it, was to promise himself that he would never allow himself to care too deeply for any person who came into his life. That resolution was going to be tested many times in the centuries to come.

 

[daddybear54]

Part 3:  The Revolving Door

 

In 1307, Hamish found a position as chamberlain in the entourage of a young nobleman named Piers Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall. Gaveston had been elevated to this, the highest rank of the peerage, just a few months earlier, and was still in the process of vastly expanding his household to meet the increased demands of pomp and prestige which his new honour entailed.

 

Before taking the position, Hamish had heard the gossip – all of England and Scotland knew about it. Gaveston was the established favourite of the Prince of Wales, now the newly-crowned King Edward II, and had unequalled access to the King for consultations, for requests, for all legitimate purposes. Bribery was hinted at, sometimes, quite strongly, as the title of Earl of Cornwall conferred on Gaveston would normally have been given to a senior member of the royal family, or at least a person already highly placed in the nobility – and Gaveston was neither. Gossip also suggested, not without many leers and winks, that he had access to the king for other, and much more personal purposes.

 

Putting all that together, along with the knowledge that royal rule in England was still very much a partnership between king and nobles, Hamish deduced that this was one job that was likely to be actually dangerous to life and limb. Not that this worried him at all.

 

As an attendant servant outside his lordship’s private chambers, Hamish soon noticed that there were more than a few very attractive and well-endowed young men who arrived on different occasions, but always late at night and acting in a very furtive manner. He thought this a little forward of the earl, especially considering that his marriage to Margaret de Clare, sister of the powerful Earl of Gloucester, was due to be celebrated in a little over a month. But Hamish knew that the upper orders were full of arranged marriages which were marriages in name only. More intriguing was the fact that the same face rarely appeared twice. It seemed that the earl’s staff had their hands full, trying to provide an adequate supply of new blood to keep him entertained.

 

Centuries later, Hamish was to encounter that useful twentieth century invention, the revolving door, and realize that this was a perfect metaphor for Piers Gaveston’s bedroom – or, perhaps more accurately, the one thing that Gaveston’s bedroom lacked to be truly complete.

 

Back to 1307, though. Since Hamish himself definitely had an itch that needed to be scratched, he decided to see what might happen on the next night that his lordship appeared to be not otherwise occupied.

 

Two nights later, he spotted his opportunity. Hamish had made a point that evening of catching the earl’s eye as he walked towards his chambers, letting his gaze run slowly downwards and then slightly rubbing the front of his breeches. The earl let a small smile play across his face and then gave a slight sideways jerk of his head, a signal to “follow me.” And Hamish followed.

 

He closed the door of the earl’s private room behind him, and then turned around to face his master. The earl was already being disrobed by one of his private servants, behind a screen. But his head reached above the screen, and his face was turned towards Hamish. He raised an eyebrow and let his tongue pop out of his mouth a bit. Then he disappeared in the voluminous folds of a bedgown, and the servant bowed, and exited through the back door.

 

As soon as the servant was gone, the earl stepped out from behind the screen, faced towards Hamish and, with a commanding air, said, “Get this thing off me and then get yourself undressed.” Hamish speedily complied. As soon as he pulled down his breeches, it could be seen that his cock was fully erect. Upon seeing that spectacle, the earl’s own tool began to harden up very quickly too, climbing visibly from a downwards angle to horizontal, and from horizontal to a sharp upwards slant. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

 

“No, my lord.”

 

“Get over here.”

 

Hamish walked over, reaching for the earl’s sizable tool. But the earl quickly slapped his hand away. “That’s only for people in my own rank in society. You get this.” With that, he turned around, presenting his firm and nicely rounded ass for Hamish to adore.

 

Hamish had no objections at all. He always loved eating a hot ass. Hamish quickly plunged his face deep in between the two plump cushions and began to lick and tongue the earl’s hole. It was by no means tight, and he rightly deduced that all the young men he’d seen coming this way late at night had been here before him.

 

Before long, he had his tongue inside the hole, twitching it around, stabbing it in and out, and wrenching a whole series of quiet moans and sighs from his master, who plainly enjoyed this treatment. Soon, he added a finger, and then two, twisting those around inside the earl’s ass, flexing and loosening until the hole bloomed, and was plainly ready for the next course on the menu.

 

Gaveston stepped away to the bed, lay down on his face, and reached back to spread his ass open. “Fuck me, now.”

 

Hamish climbed between his legs, pushed them farther apart, and leaned down, planting the tip of his eight-inch rod against the man’s hole. Then he pushed, the hole gaped open, and his cock slid in a few inches.

 

“Farther. Give me the whole thing.”

 

Hamish obliged, sliding his entire tool deep inside the quivering ass beneath him.

 

“Fuck, that thing’s huge. I can feel it splitting me open. Now fuck me hard!”

 

It was plain that Piers Gaveston had a huge sense of his own importance in the scheme of things, not that this was surprising. But it was equally plain that he wanted to be dominated, hammered, reamed out, loaded up, and generally turned into a real cock slut.

 

Hamish proceeded to give him a whale of a fuck, slamming deep and fast into the man’s newly-ennobled ass, and twisting around on each stroke to rub every part of his guts. As he got closer, he started yanking it clear out of the earl’s hole and then jamming it all the way back in, over and over.

 

He had Gaveston moaning and crying on the bed, his body twisting from side to side, trying to escape one second from the exquisite torture and then trying to get more of it the next.

 

“Oh, fuck, man, you know how to drive it! Keep pounding me! Fuck me harder, stud, harder, damn you!!!”

 

Hamish knew he was cumming soon, and began grunting out, “Gonna cum… gonna cum….”

 

The earl all but screamed, “Yeah! Shoot into me! Fill my guts with your seed. FuckfuckfuckFUUUUCK!!!”

 

He reared up onto all fours, pushing Hamish up on top of him, as his cock erupted, spraying sperm all over the bed covers. As soon as Gaveston exploded, Hamish jammed his tool deeper inside than ever before and busted one of the biggest loads of his long, long life into his master’s hole. They collapsed onto the bed, with the Earl of Cornwall lying spent in a pool of his own steaming juice. Hamish slowly pulled out, having tired himself out more than usual from the unexpected high energy level of the fucking.

 

Gaveston didn’t even look at him. Just a snarl, “Now get out.”

 

The next night, Hamish “happened” to be close by as the earl headed to his room. The man ignored him, and a minute later Hamish saw the reason why. The blond servant following not far behind the earl had a bed place just a few spots down the row from Hamish in the servants’ dormitory.

 

Back at his bed place, Hamish stayed awake, waiting. All around him were the snores and irregular breathing of the multitude of servants. He had to struggle, but he managed to keep himself awake. He was waiting for the young blond to come back from his appointment. As the blond guy walked into the dormitory, he saw Hamish sitting up and looking at him, and he veered over and sat down. Their conversation was carried on in very quiet undertones, but Hamish found it very interesting, nonetheless.

 

“Hi, I’m Craig.”

 

“Hamish.”

 

“You were waiting up for me.”

 

“Just curious about what you were up to.”

 

“Hamish, you’re not that dumb. I saw you going to his room last night.”

 

Hamish laughed quietly. “Guilty as charged.”

 

“What the hell did you do to him, anyway?

 

“Probably the same thing you did.”

 

“Hardly. I’d gone once before, and he enjoyed it. This time, he just complained endlessly about how I wasn’t any good, I wasn’t hitting the right spots, it just didn’t feel like it did when ‘the big guy’ was in there last night, on and on like that.”

 

“I’m sorry he gave you a rough time, but at the same time I’m glad I made an impression.”

 

“Made an impression? Too bloody right you did. I think he’s going to call for you again tomorrow. I won’t go again. I’m leaving here and going back to my family.”

 

Hamish frowned. “Why? Just because his lordship was having an off night?”

 

Craig sighed, wistfully. “No, there’s more to it than that.” Hamish smiled at him encouragingly. He hemmed and hawed for a minute, but finally it came out. “I wanted him to do it to me.”

 

“We’re both the wrong social class.”

 

Craig heaved another sigh. “Yeah. I know.”

 

“Anyway, why would you want him? He’s arrogant, snotty, stuck up, rude as hell….”

 

“Okay, point taken,” Craig replied. “Let’s change that and say I want someone to do me.”

 

Hamish said no more. He reached out, took Craig by the wrist, and led his hand to rest on his own dick under his nightshirt. Craig began massaging his tool, squeezing, and stroking. In moments, he was holding Hamish’s erect and ready eight inches, sliding the foreskin back from the head, and then bending down to take the head into his mouth. He could taste Hamish’s precum forming at the slit, and it tasted incredible. Poor Craig hadn’t been fucked for over a year. It seemed that everyone he ran into wanted him to be the top because his dick was also a generous size. But Hamish was willing to give him what he wanted. His hand slid down the younger man’s back, finding his ass, and squeezing it. His fingers drifted towards the tight little knot -- and it was tight, after not having been untied for so many months. But Hamish was an expert of long, long standing; he knew just how to get that knot loosened up.

 

Craig pulled up, gasping, and then flopped down on his back on Hamish’s straw pallet. Hamish moved up between his legs, lifting them up, and digging his tongue into the blond guy’s ass. Soon, Craig was making enough noise that Hamish pulled up a nearby cloth which did duty as a towel for him and stuffed it into the noisy mouth. He dived back into that pretty, smooth, firm round ass and kept on licking, tonguing, digging, kissing, and more, until at last it began to loosen, to relax, to flex, and finally to open. He slid a finger inside Craig, working it around slowly, and then another.  In no time, Hamish had three fingers pumping in and out of the blond guy’s hole, and he had Craig twisting frantically on the straw, desperate for something more.

 

It was time for that “something more.” Hamish moved the tip of his cock into the crack, found the target, and slowly began sinking his tool down into the tunnel. Craig moaned again, with the cloth muffling the worst of the sound. He squirmed around a bit, but made no protest, as Hamish slowly worked the entire eight thick inches of his cock inside the younger guy’s hole. Once he was all the way there, Hamish relaxed a bit and lay down on top of Craig. No way around it, this young blond stud muffin was cute as hell, and actually had a good and clean set of teeth (not common in his social class), so Hamish was perfectly happy to lie on top of him, letting his cock nestle comfortably inside that hole, and do some serious making out.

 

One thing Hamish had learned all too well in the 241 years since he’d achieved his unexpected immortality was that few, if any, men in any of those years really enjoyed kissing other men. The Lionheart had finally learned to enjoy it, but even he took a while to really get into swapping tongue.

 

Craig was the total exception to the rule. It was obvious at once that he enjoyed kissing, and was really good at it, too. Having a big, thick cock embedded in his ass at the same time might have had something to do with that, of course. But still, the guy was a natural-born kisser. And since Hamish always enjoyed high-level kissing, he was happier than the proverbial pig in shit as he lay there on top of Craig, making out with him.

 

But Craig’s ass got a vote, too, and it soon began squeezing and chewing on Hamish’s tool in a very demanding way, a way that said, “okay, that’s enough fooling around, now get down to business.” Hamish was very good at reading this kind of signal, too, and was only too glad to oblige.

 

It intrigued Hamish to realize how much more enjoyable this coupling was, despite being on a lower key than his frantic, high-energy plowing of the earl the previous night. Later on, he would figure out that he wasn’t missing the aggressive, demanding, downright rude manners of Piers Gaveston one bit, but he had been missing the feeling of fucking a guy who was genuinely happy to be under him, and not shy to say so.

 

That enjoyment made it easy to take his sweet time, fucking Craig in multiple speeds, angles, and positions and eventually cumming inside the younger man’s smooth, almost boyish ass not just once, but twice. But during that extended fuck session, his devious mind gradually devised a little strategy to get Craig back into the earl’s good graces and make sure that Craig, too, enjoyed his next visit with the earl.

 

When he had finally finished dropping his second burst of seed inside Craig’s delightful, smooth tunnel, he explained what he had in mind, and Craig reluctantly agreed to stick around for a few more days before pulling the plug and see what turned up.

 

As it happened, the very next night saw Hamish waiting “inconspicuously” along the hallway leading to Gaveston’s private chambers. He’d picking a spot right across the hall from a deep, shadowed alcove next to an archway, and Craig was tucked into the alcove. When the earl signalled Hamish to follow, with a peremptory wave, Hamish fell into place ten paces behind – and Craig followed, another twenty or so paces behind Hamish.

 

At the chamber door, Hamish waited a few moments to let the undressing by the servant get going, and then walked in. This time, everything happened faster, and the earl was climbing onto his bed, back to the door, in a mere two minutes or so. The loud creak of the bedframe gave Craig his cue, and he slipped into the chamber quietly, shoes off, and padded across the room towards Hamish, quickly stripping as he went.

 

All three men were fully erect. Craig got behind the earl, placed his cock against his master’s hole, and then gave a mighty shove which got it all into the man’s ass in one thrust. The earl groaned, and under cover of that noise, Hamish dug his cock deep into Craig’s ass. Having Hamish inside him gave Craig just that extra kick of energy and incentive to start giving the earl a first-rate pounding. In the process, his ass was also doing a splendid job of stroking Hamish’s cock, getting him increasingly aroused.

 

As the earl’s groans and cries got louder, Craig’s fucking got more and more forceful – largely because he was now staying still, and letting Hamish do all the work. Every time Hamish slammed into Craig’s ass, he drove Craig’s rigid cock deep into the earl’s now-loosened ass, and Hamish made sure to pull Craig back so far that he popped right out of the noble hole, before slamming him back in again.

 

It was Hamish who finally grunted, “Cumming now – filling you up deep and wet…” but it was actually Craig’s cock which erupted like a demented volcano inside Gaveston, spilling what felt like gallons of sperm which then poured out of the gaping hole as soon as Hamish pulled him clear. In the same moment, Hamish pulled out of Craig, spun him out of the way, and jammed himself inside Gaveston, just in time to blow another epic load into the earl’s quivering butt. And it was Hamish’s cum blast which set the earl off, causing him to spill his seed all over the bed in a repeat of their previous encounter.

 

“Holy fuck! How in hell did you manage to cum in me two times that quickly?”

 

As Gaveston asked the question, he did something completely out of character – he flopped down onto the bed, and then rolled over onto his back, looking up at Hamish – and Craig. As he began to realize what had happened, his face darkened in rage.

 

Hamish replied, very, very respectfully, of course: “Actually, that was holy two fucks, my lord.”

 

“I shall have you two torn apart by the dogs for this!”

 

Hamish quickly tried to soothe him. “Why, your lordship? Didn’t you just enjoy the epic fuck of a lifetime? Why ruin a good thing?” Gaveston, taken aback by the forwardness of his studly servant, fumed and spluttered, fumbling for words which eluded him. “The two of us make a super team, and you certainly enjoyed it. Craig here did a great job on the main action, largely because I was fucking him while he fucked you, and he pulled out as soon as he came, just so I could get in there and drop another load into your hole. And now you’ve got those two combined loads spilling out of your ass all over the bed.”

 

Gaveston made another brave try at speech. “You… you….”

 

Hamish went on. “Really, trying to make us disappear is not what you need to be doing. Everyone in the whole damn castle knows what goes on here in your chambers every night, and if a couple of your little fuck boys vanish, it’s going to take no time at all for the news to get back to Gloucester -- and then you can kiss your marriage to Margaret goodbye. Not to mention that His Majesty may not be amused either, after he worked so hard to secure a good marriage for you that would help to cover up your antics.”

 

Gaveston finally found some words. “You blackmailing snake of a….”

 

Hamish cut him off. “Not at all, my lord. Look at it as us doing you a favour. Now that you’ve found out what an awesome job the two of us can do together on you, it won’t be necessary for you to keep finding more and more boys to come in here and do the deed – will it? We can fill your needs full time, keep it much quieter and under wraps, stop the gossip, save your marriage – you name it.”

 

By now, the earl had calmed down enough to realize that there was more than a small measure of common sense in what Hamish was telling him.

 

Finally, coherent speech returned to Gaveston. “You’ve got guts, no question. Don’t expect to hear so much common sense – or statecraft – from the servant class. All right, you’re on duty full time. You’ll get orders to report tomorrow as my new chamber servants. And you’ll be coming along next month when I travel up to Gloucester to meet the King. I can picture him getting a good deal of enjoyment out of your talents, too, after I’m through with him. Now, get my bedgown back on.”

 

Hamish, with nothing in his face but the obsequious deference of the chamber servant, helped Gaveston back into his bedgown, and held the lamp while his lordship climbed into bed, and pulled up the covers.

 

“Good night, my lord.” And Hamish and Craig left the room, quietly closing the door.

 

The other servants wondered why the two of them couldn’t stop snorting and giggling when they came back into the servants’ dormitory.

 

 

[Powerasianbtms]

love this 

[daddybear54]

45 minutes ago, Powerasianbtms said:

love this 

Thank you!

[NLbear]

Great story. Curious to see who Hamish nails when he fucks his way through the centuries to come.

[daddybear54]

24 minutes ago, NLbear said:

Great story. Curious to see who Hamish nails when he fucks his way through the centuries to come.

So am I -- got one or two clear ideas but I'm sure there are some more good ones I could dig up. Gotta get the research hat on!

[daddybear54]

Part 4:  The Court

 

As Hamish and Craig journeyed with the Earl of Cornwall’s party towards the meeting point at Gloucester, they kept their mouths shut during daylight hours. Both of them sensed, without even being told, that the less they said, the less there was to let out that could harm the earl and consequently the less evidence there was to be used against them. Or, as Hamish whispered to Craig on the first night out, “We’re gonna get screwed either way, but let’s not get screwed down in a coffin if we can avoid it.”

 

Once inside the Earl of Gloucester’s castle, still more fortress than palace, they found – not to their surprise – that rooms were in short supply and they would have to fend for themselves out in the castle’s courtyards. With a dozen or more nobles coming to the king’s assembly, each with a train of soldiers and servants, it was only to be expected. Hamish and Craig were lucky to get a small wagon to themselves, too small for anyone else to try to pile in with them, and they managed to save the canvas cover from being looted. Good thing, too, as the delightful English summer weather had instantly turned to mean, cold rain at the news that they would be roughing it in the great outdoors.

 

They also figured, quite sensibly, that they’d better not do any fooling around on their own time, to be fully loaded and prepared for whatever else might await them.

 

On the second full day in Gloucester, the Earl of Cornwall himself came around, looking for his two chamber servants. He was being attended in the castle by Gloucester’s own servants, partly so his activities could be closely monitored by his brother-in-law to be. In fact, the Earl of Gloucester was nicely poised between outrage, curiosity, and sheer sexual jealousy at what the rumours had to say about Piers Gaveston, the jumped-up Earl of Cornwall, and his after-hours activities.

 

None of which had stopped Gaveston from going to see the King on the first two nights. Edward II had been delighted at the return of his favourite, whether best described as old friend, royal favourite, fuck buddy, or “D: All of the Above.” The two men had had a grand old romp in the royal bed, switching tops and bottoms on both nights, so both of them came away from the experience with nicely satiated cocks and nicely filled assholes.

 

But Edward was a man who craved variety, and he said so to Gaveston on the second night after he’d pumped yet another royal-sized load of divinely ordained seed inside his bedmate’s firm, rounded ass.

 

To which Gaveston replied, “Well, Y.M. (he never used the king’s full title in private), I have just the thing in my train of servants.” And he proceeded to tell Edward all about his discovery of, and spectacular sex with, the dynamic duo of Craig and Hamish.

 

“Scots, are they? That explains a lot.”

 

“How so, sire?”

 

“Some of my most exciting times have been with Scots.”

 

Gaveston laughed. “Then I’m sure you’ll enjoy these two,” he replied.

 

The next day, the Earl of Cornwall wandered through the encampment in the courtyard, casually and rudely ignoring the bows and greetings of “Your lordship” from all the men he passed. He finally found the wagon where Craig and Hamish were camping out, and snapped at them, “Come with me!” He led them to a remote corner of the courtyard where nobody was close by, and then told them that he would come to collect them after it was full dark that night. “And be ready – you understand?”

 

“Yes, my lord,” they both replied, meekly. But after he left, and once he was safely back inside the castle, they looked at each other with raised eyebrows and laughed heartily.

 

Passing lightly over the details of what exactly happened at full dark, it’s enough to say that Gaveston had used his brain in figuring out how to get them into the royal chamber, undetected. Once they arrived, and their heads and faces were uncovered, they bowed together. “Your majesty.”

 

Edward was enjoying the first sight of these two sturdy sons of Scotland, their well-built bodies clearly outlined even under their rough-and-ready servant clothing. He nodded his approval to Gaveston, who quickly barked at them, “Get naked – fast.”

 

As their clothes came off, and their erect cocks came into view, Edward was completely transfixed by the glorious sights in front of him. Indeed, the royal mouth was hanging slightly open and the tip of his tongue was just visible between the lips. He gestured to Craig to come closer, and once Craig had complied, he leaned down and swallowed the tip of Craig’s tool. In the space of a minute or so, he had worked his way down to the base and had the whole of the young Scot’s sturdy tool inside his mouth and throat.

 

Edward was plainly a cocksucker both practised and skilled and took great delight in what he was doing. As he worked on Craig’s tool, he also gestured for Hamish to come closer, and signified what he wanted Hamish to do with a sharp little slap on his own ass. Hamish knelt down behind the king, rubbing and squeezing his ass cheeks, which were surprisingly firm and attractive (Hamish was rapidly learning that a knight in armour had to be in pretty decent shape to carry all that excess weight). In another minute, he plunged his mouth into Edward’s ass crack and began to lick, suck and slobber all over the royal hole. To judge by the excited moans, Edward was definitely enjoying the way Gaveston’s special chamber servants were lavishing their special services on him.

 

Somewhere along the line, Craig and the king exchanged tasks, and Craig went right to town on the royal cock, enjoying every inch the king had to give. But then the king pulled out of his mouth, turned around and pulled Hamish to his feet, and said, “I want that cock of yours inside me. Now.” And then, to Craig, “And I want you to turn around so I can push mine into you.”

 

Both nodded and murmured, “Yes, your majesty.” In no time, Edward had his tool buried inside Craig’s delightful hole while Hamish was locked all the way up inside the royal fuck tunnel. The king knew exactly how to make this kind of three-way work. He told them both to hold still, and then proceeded to slide back and forth between them, taking Hamish deep inside himself as he pulled out of Craig, and then pumping all the way into Craig as he slid away from Hamish. Meanwhile, Gaveston was watching open-mouthed as the king let his sacred royal rod be defiled by a commoner’s asshole. It was beyond his comprehension that his royal master could so stoop for mere pleasure. But Gaveston quickly realized that Edward simply didn’t share his prejudice against letting servants have his cock -- and he decided that he might as well go all in too.

 

In almost less time than it takes to tell about it, Piers Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall, was reaming out the common but still wonderfully tight and talented ass of his servant, Hamish McAlpine, and loving every minute of it. Hamish was quite gifted enough to remember to use his muscles at stroking the earl, at the same time that he was flexing his cock every which way at plowing the king.

 

Despite his late start in this four-way fuck train (to use a much later term for it), Gaveston was actually the first to cum, erupting violently inside of Hamish as he slammed forcefully into his servant’s visually perfect ass. From then on, the train of eruptions continued in order like a falling rank of cards stood on edge, with Hamish blowing one of his signature explosions into the king, who immediately shot into Craig’s ass with a good deal of force and passion. Craig had no one to drop his seed in, but just moaned aloud and spilled his load all over the floor beneath his quivering legs.

 

One by one, the four men detached from each other, and the king fell first, gracefully folding up his legs and lying smoothly down on his bed. He then patted the mattress on either side of him, and the other three each executed his own version of the flop, none as polished as Edward’s. There they lay, catching their breath, and stroking each other’s bodies. Craig and Hamish were amazed, and delighted too, at how much their master had changed in the king’s presence, adopting a much more civilized tone and manner towards them as if they were nearly his equals. But Hamish reminded himself in his thoughts to be careful.

 

Well, in bed we certainly are his equals, and more than that, but I know – and I’m sure Craig knows – not to presume on his continued kindness because of this moment of civility.

 

In time, four cocks began to stand at attention once more, and it was time for the frolics to resume. This time, Edward had Hamish lie down on his back and lift his legs, allowing him to insert his rampant cock into the hunky servant’s firm, round ass. Meanwhile, Gaveston got Craig down on his back, facing the opposite way to Hamish but with their heads close to each other, while he plundered the cute blond’s sweet hole. As king and earl rammed common ass in unison, Craig and Hamish rolled their heads towards each other and began kissing and swapping tongue, which seemed to excite their social superiors even more.

 

It was a surprise to all involved that Gaveston (usually something of a slowpoke) was actually the first to cum, getting totally wound up at the sight of his two sexy servants kissing while they were being fucked. Gaveston, always a very vocal cummer, outdid himself on this occasion, and his loud moans quickly brought the king to the moment of truth. Edward’s second eruption even exceeded the size of his first, and his hot sperm was squirting out of Hamish’s ass, mingled with Gaveston’s earlier sizable load, as he continued fucking his seed in.

 

Both king and earl pulled out and collapsed across the bed, done for the night. But Gaveston had one more surprise for his two faithful chamber servants. He roused himself enough to say, in an uncommonly pleasant tone of voice, “You don’t have to just lie there and give up. Go ahead and have some fun together if you want -- to help you get another load out of your systems.”

 

And King Edward II and Piers Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall, proceeded to lie back and enjoy the show as Hamish mounted on top of Craig, who was loving every minute of the attention his ass was getting. As Hamish pounded into Craig’s well-used but still active hole, he leaned down and the two began kissing each other passionately again, keeping it up for at least three more minutes before Hamish reared up, let out a roar, and fired one of the biggest loads of his life into his friend. The sperm kept pumping out, and Craig’s ass simply couldn’t contain the flood. Then Hamish pulled out, applied his tongue to Craig’s ass, and proceeded to lick and suck on Craig’s hole, slurping all the mingled cum of a king, an earl, and a commoner out of his tunnel. A minute of that treatment was all it took for Craig to blast a fountain of cum into the air, and – wonder of wonders – both the king and the earl, without even realizing they were stroking themselves, shot their third sizable loads right along with him.

 

Eventually, Edward roused himself enough to dismiss the two servants, but he handed each of them a small cloth pouch before they went. Gaveston was already asleep, and snoring, in the rather messy and damp royal bed. The king very kindly bade them goodnight, and they both bowed to him before backing out of the room.

 

Out in the hall, Craig looked in his pouch and let out a yelp of surprise, quickly suppressed. “Look, Hamish – silver!”

 

Hamish immediately hissed, “Put that away you idiot, and don’t flash it around. It’ll be gone before dawn if you let everyone know what you’ve got there.” Setting the example himself, Hamish tucked his pouch away inside his vest, in a concealed pocket. Craig quickly followed suit.

 

Hamish had certainly been right in thinking that this was a risky job. Over the next few years, they went along with Gaveston as he got exiled from the kingdom multiple times – twice to Ireland, once to Scotland, and once to Flanders. The mounting fury of the barons and earls was making it harder and harder for the king to keep his favourite close to the heart of the realm.

 

It was on the final exile, in the Flemish town of Bruges/Brugge (which was then just beginning its rise to commercial and artistic eminence) that Hamish and Craig begged leave to part company with the earl. He had indeed become an entirely different man since that memorable night in the royal bedchamber. Where formerly he would have roared and threatened or even exacted punishment for their temerity, he now agreed (although reluctantly) to release them from his service and kindly gave them money to help them in seeking new employment.

 

It's quite possible that Gaveston realized that his own time on earth wouldn’t last much longer, due to the unremitting hostility of the nobles in England. And indeed, he had only a little more than a year to live before he was hunted down and murdered by the Earl of Warwick after returning to England.

 

Before long, Craig and Hamish parted company too. It was an emotional parting on both sides, with a great deal of love from Craig and a goodly measure of almost parental affection on Hamish’s part. But he had to follow his invariable rule to never become attached. Aside from his own feelings, Hamish always feared to stay too long in any one place, lest his never-changing appearance should give the game away and attract unwelcome attention and hostility, especially from the Church. In any case, Craig had met a young merchant in Bruges who was fascinated by his youthful blond appearance and was openly courting him.

 

As for Hamish, his next move was already decided for him by a brief encounter he’d had in Scotland, during the earl’s short period of exile there. In a few days he took ship for Edenesburg (Edinburgh), to find the man he had met on his previous curtailed sojourn in his homeland.

 

[NLbear]

It's a pity Hamish can't take Craig with him on his journey. But I can already picture him in Scotland: lifting kilts and inspecting the goods 😉

 

[daddybear54]

Part 5:  The Man

 

The voyage was miserable. The North Sea was in one of its boisterous moods, and the small ship rolled and pitched relentlessly on the waves. Hamish was always prone to seasickness anyway, but this was the worst experience he’d ever had. He spent the whole 80 hours of the voyage vomiting his guts out while the ship struggled to make some semblance of a direct course towards its destination. When the Bass Rock loomed up to port, and the waves calmed down, proof positive that they had entered the sheltered waters of the Firth of Forth, Hamish was too sick and exhausted to care.

 

Upon walking down the gangplank and setting foot in his homeland once again, Hamish decided to walk off his seasickness, up from the wharf at Leith to Edinburgh. There he directed his steps towards the tavern where Alan had said he would normally choose to spend an evening. Arriving at last, he put down his bag against the rough stone wall, bought a pint of ale and a slab of bread, and sat on a bench, leaning back against the side wall of the tavern to watch as the customers came and went.

 

As he was watching the door, a deep voice spoke in his ear from the side where he wasn’t looking.

 

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

 

Hamish turned to find Alan, as handsome as he remembered from two years earlier, studying him with those dark, penetrating eyes.

 

“You knew I was coming?”

 

“I knew that you had gone to Flanders with the earl, and I guessed that you would be leaving him and coming here soon. A wise move in more ways than one. I’m certain that he’ll be in the ground before the next year is out. Come with me.”

 

Hamish finished his ale, tucked the remainder of the bread into his bag, and followed Alan back through the haze, past the open fireplace where the peats smouldered under the cooking pots, and out through the rough curtain covering the back doorway. Alan turned, seized Hamish by the shoulders, and kissed him – firmly, forcefully, without tongue, but with no shortage of intention.

 

“My room is up here.”

 

He led Hamish up a sloping stone ramp towards the next street above them, on the base of the castle hill, then turned part-way up the ramp into a low stone building with a slate roof. They walked through the common area, empty at this time of the day, and into one of four small rooms at the back. There was a low bed, a straw mat on the floor, a table with a lamp, and a simple wooden stand with a basin and a pitcher of water.

 

Hamish sat on the bed, looking at Alan, while Alan closed the rough-hewn wooden door and then looked solemnly at him in turn. At last, Hamish asked the question foremost in his mind.

 

“Alan, two years ago, why did you ask me to come here? You hardly knew me.”

 

“Hamish, you’re wrong in saying I hardly knew you. As soon as I met you, I knew right away who you were -- and what you were. You have the look about you. And I knew then that you needed me.”

 

“What do you mean, I had the look about me? What look?”

 

Alan sighed. “It’s hard to describe. Recognizing it comes with experience, I suppose. But let me show you one thing at least.” Alan sat on the bed next to Hamish, but then turned his back. “Now, reach up and run your fingers gently through my hair, right at the base of my skull, in the middle of the back of my head. What do you feel?”

 

“Odd… kind of rough, like little bumps on the skin.”

 

“That’s what you want. Gently separate the hairs and look through them at the skin underneath.”

 

At first, Hamish saw nothing. But then, as he looked, marks slowly began to appear on the skin.

 

“I can see strange black markings appearing, but they don’t look like letters. I can’t make them out.”

 

Alan smiled. “I was right about you. A normal person would see nothing, although they might feel the bumps.”

 

“Right about me?”

 

Alan gave a rare laugh. “Hamish, you can stop pretending. I know that as soon as I run my fingers through the back of your hair, I’m going to find some bumps and when I look, I’ll see the marks.”

 

Hamish was feeling more and more disconcerted, but he reached his hand up and felt the back of his own head. His fingers quickly traced out some small bumps beneath the hair. He stared at Alan, wide-eyed. He had to try a couple of times before he could get his voice to function. At last, in a whisper, he asked, “Alan, what is it?”

 

Alan looked at him solemnly. “It’s the mark of the immortal. I knew you were an immortal as soon as I met you, and I was right. Wasn’t I?” Hamish nodded dumbly. “I’d also guess that I’m the first immortal besides yourself that you’ve ever met.” Hamish nodded again. “How did you get your marks?”

 

Hamish told him the story of how he was killed but promptly resurrected at the Battle of Hastings. Of course, he knew nothing of the back story of the Norman knight and the black mass, but Alan immediately leaped to the obvious conclusion.

 

“It was probably the sword that did it. Somehow or other, it had acquired the power to confer immortality. That can happen in various ways.” Alan sighed. “I got mine by direct action. I’d been meddling around with spells from an old book I’d gotten from my grandmother, who was a gifted witch. Somehow or other, I managed to get some of the words in the wrong order and I became deathly ill. My family were convinced that I was gone, but none of them were close by when I actually died -- briefly. They thought their prayers had healed me by divine intervention.” He gave a hollow little laugh. “I had to leave them, then. Once they realized that I had stopped ageing, they’d have guessed right away that it was anything but divine influence and they’d have ended up harming themselves by trying to destroy me.”

 

Hamish pondered all of that, and he recognized Alan’s feeling right away. It was that weird sensation of being somehow out of step with the world around you, of being different from all the people who looked so similar, of fearing to let yourself have any feelings for anyone, of having to guard yourself always to avoid frightening or endangering the people around you.

 

“I’ve got a question, Alan. I never thought of this before, but after hearing your story… can we harm mortals by having sex with them?”

 

Alan laughed. “If we could, you and I would both have left a trail of dead bodies behind us – wouldn’t we? Your immortality isn’t the only thing about you that sticks out a mile. I remember the way you used to look at that young blond fellow two years back – what was his name again?”

 

“Craig.”

 

“Right. It wasn’t hard to guess that you’d been doing him for some time, or that both of you had also been doing the earl.” Hamish had thought he was old enough, at two and a half centuries, to have gotten beyond blushing. “It also isn’t hard to guess why you’re starting to ask questions about sex. Come here.”

 

Alan folded Hamish into his arms and stroked his body gently as they began to kiss again. Before long, they were naked together on the bed, their erect cocks straining towards each other.

 

Hamish had thought himself an experienced man when it came to pleasuring other men, but he soon found out that, compared to Alan, he was a rank beginner. Alan’s mouth worked so delicately, so gently, on Hamish’s cock, and yet he teased out incredible sensations such as Hamish had never experienced before. Hamish did his best to return the favour but was acutely aware that he wasn’t nearly as good.

 

That is, until they moved into a 69 position. After a minute or so of mutual cock sucking, Hamish realized that, without even trying, he was absorbing lessons from Alan at top speed. The level of mutual pleasure soared even higher as Hamish didn’t just imitate but actually began to master Alan’s incredible technique.

 

Then Alan moved his face lower, plunging right down onto Hamish’s hole with tongue and lips and fingers all at once. Hamish nearly blew apart in sheer ecstasy as this incredible expert worked on his ass, tickling, teasing, torturing him with the sheer variety of sensations he conjured up. Without any conscious thought at all on his part, Hamish knew that his hole was relaxing, opening, blooming, begging Alan to take him. After so many years – well, centuries – of being predominantly a top, Hamish could hardly believe that he was feeling such a desperate need and desire to be entered by another man, but that was the truth of it.

 

Alan rolled Hamish onto his face, and then moved around between his legs. Once again, he buried his face and his gifted tongue inside Hamish’s crack, prying him even wider open by forcing the tongue inside. Then Alan rose, moved forward, and placed the tip of his cock against Hamish’s hole, pushing slowly but determinedly until he slid in, all the way, right to the bottom, burying his entire eight inches inside Hamish’s quivering body.

 

Hamish was astounded by his reaction – or lack of it. He’d been fucked by a number of people, from time to time (the most recent being Edward, a few years earlier), and it could get very exciting – but it always caused him a fair bit of discomfort, could get painful with an abusive top, and was never his favourite kind of sex. With Alan, astonishing as it seemed to him, there was no discomfort at all – just a powerful sense of fullness and fulfillment. Alan was the first man who had ever made bottoming seem pleasurable to Hamish, and it was certainly all of that and then some.

 

Somehow, it just felt “right” to him to have Alan’s cock sliding in and out of his body while Alan’s arms encircled and stroked him, and Alan’s muscular body lay full-length on top of him. When Alan began moving faster inside him, Hamish felt his own level of excitement rising. And when Alan gave the last powerful thrusts and released his seed inside Hamish’s ass, Hamish’s own cock automatically and instinctively shot a big load onto the bed under his body. Then they lay together for a while. Alan’s cock slowly softened and slid out of Hamish’s hole. Alan rolled onto his side by Hamish, and Hamish turned up to meet him. They embraced, kissed, cuddled, but didn’t say anything. Suddenly, words weren’t important.

 

In time, Alan rose up and got dressed, inviting Hamish to come with him. They walked back down the hill to the tavern and ordered food and drink. They didn’t talk much to each other during the meal, just exchanged looks from time to time. For the first time Hamish could ever remember, he didn’t feel like a dislocated, disconnected wanderer, doomed to roam up and down the world forever. Quite the opposite, in fact: he had a sense that he had found his place, that he was now exactly where he belonged.

 

After they’d eaten, they listened for a while to a travelling minstrel who reminded Hamish forcibly of his minstrel days, and of his unique relationship with Richard the Lionheart. Looking at Alan, he could see facial expressions which showed that Alan was also living in his memories.

 

In time, they paid the innkeeper and walked back up to Alan’s room. There they lit the lamp, which gave both light and some heat, and proceeded to undress and get into bed together once more.

 

Again, they were holding each other close, running their hands gently over each other’s bodies, and delighting in the sensations of touching one another. After a little while, the stroking and fondling caused both of their cocks to refill for another round. This time, Alan rolled onto his back, and lifted his legs in a clear invitation. Hamish took him up on the offer, and soon was eliciting a rewarding assortment of moans, sighs, and little cries of delight as he worked on Alan’s hole with his tongue and fingers. As the hole opened up to him, Hamish started tongue-fucking Alan with little stabs of his tongue into the inviting ass.

 

It was time. Hamish’s cock was leaking precum faster than he could ever remember. He got up on his knees, as Alan lifted his legs higher and back, over his head. Hamish rubbed his cockhead over Alan’s hole, and then shifted the angle and slid all the way inside – slowly, deeply, completely, just as his mentor had done to him earlier.

 

There came from Alan what could only be called a purr of contentment as Hamish buried his dick inside Alan’s ass. Hamish laid his body right down on top of Alan, relishing the total contact of body to body more than he ever had with any other man. With Alan, it felt essential. His cock started sliding in and out, slowly but fully, coming almost all the way out and then pushing all the way back in. These full strokes stimulated the entire length of Hamish’s shaft, triggering little earthquakes of emotional electricity at every moment of each thrust.

 

Hamish did his best to hold off, but he knew that he was going to cum soon, and that it was going to be a cum like no other he had ever experienced. He could also sense, although he had no idea how he knew, that Alan was cumming right along with him and would explode at the same time. Hamish pushed down even tighter, kissing Alan with real passion as they thrust tongue to tongue and cock to ass.

 

Suddenly, the moment was there. Hamish let out a groan as his cock tightened up and then convulsed, shooting an immense stream of cum in a whole extended series of pulses. He could feel the seed building up and then squishing out of Alan’s ass as he continued thrusting in. Each pulse in his cock fired a blast of ecstatic energy straight up through his heart and brain, into the very depths of his soul. At the same time, he felt Alan’s cock quivering and contracting over and over against his abs, and then the dampness between their bodies which told him that his partner was having an orgasm every bit as monumental as his own.

 

Hamish couldn’t explain satisfactorily, then or for many years afterwards, why this was such a uniquely powerful experience. He and Alan did nothing that he hadn’t done, or had done to him, hundreds of times before. The cock sucking, the savouring of the smell and taste of armpits, crotches, and ass cracks, the changes of position, the sliding of rigid dicks into tight assholes, the breathtaking eruptions of seed deep inside the partner’s body – it was all old, familiar ground. Yet, somehow, with Alan, the entire experience had moved onto an entirely different plane of sensation. It became deeper, more truthful, more real, more profound… the words Hamish needed simply didn’t exist. The enjoyment and stimulation certainly existed, though.

 

As they lay still together after their final, exalted climaxes, satiated, contented, Hamish began at last to get a very slight glimpse of the truth. What was happening here was something internal, something mysterious, and the sex was only an outward sign of what was really passing between them. In time, he would begin to understand that the relationship between them was a kind of super-human connecting and uniting that could only develop between two immortals, and not always even then. It was as if Alan and he were uniquely fitted and designed for each other, from before the beginning of time, to remain bonded in all ways, even to the ending of all the worlds.

 

When he and Alan finally spoke of it, many years later, he realized just how incredibly fortunate he had been. Immortals were rare beings in and of themselves. For two immortals who were both exclusively attracted to men to find each other was beyond coincidence – it was almost unimaginable. Hamish and Alan had linked themselves together in ways that transcended sex, but which could still delight in sex as a powerful means of expressing, showing forth, and renewing the ties that bound them.

 

Was it love? For long centuries afterwards, Hamish struggled with that question. Love just wasn’t the word for it. Love was such a limiting, human emotion. This connection that he and Alan had forged between them was neither human nor emotional. Perhaps it was better than love, in the sense that it was a more complete and all-encompassing interaction and interrelation – but for exactly that reason, it was bound, in the end, to become far more painful than any ephemeral human emotional tie could ever be.

 

That end was still centuries in the future as they slept peacefully on this, their first night together.

 

[DCWildBtm]

You’re a world-class story teller! Great job!