The Woods Boy Pt. 03
Discover the passionate climax of ‘The Woods Boy Pt. 03’—a thrilling gay sex story that explores desire, connection, and the untamed allure of romance in nature. Dive into this steamy tale where emotions run high, and sparks fly in the heart of the woods.
“I think that it’s possible that rather than hunting you.” He turned to Brook. “This creature has been guarding you.”
Whatever I had expected the man to say, that was not it. I stood up quickly, nearly knocking my chair to the floor. I don’t know what I felt, anger, confusion, fear, they were all boiling in me at what Asprey had suggested.
“How could you say that?” I said more loudly than I should. “You weren’t there!” Asprey stood too, though with a step away from me.
“That is exactly why I can be objective.” He tried to placate me. “You see..” But he didn’t finish his sentence as our attention was pulled to Brook.
He had remained in his chair, sitting stiff and straight backed in it, his hands gripping the table so hard his fingers were turning white. He was breathing hard, too. Real hard like he was running scared from something. I was beside him in a snap and reached my hand to comfort him, and as my skin touched his I fell.
I fell through an echoing dark. Ahead or beneath I saw a pale body, fetal on the ground. It was Brook, and as I met him I saw through his eyes. We weren’t in the wood, but a cavernous, circular stone chamber. The only source of light was a large and ancient brazier set in the middle of the floor, leaving the room’s steep walls and high ceiling in shadow. In front of the brazier were the outlines of two men, one tall and broad, the other small and stooped. They appeared to be arguing, the taller man looming over the other, their words echoing around the chamber so that I could not make them out. I didn’t need to hear the words to know that they fought over me, over Brook, their thoughts and feelings swimming free about the space, passing through me like angry ghosts.
The tall man raged in frustration, and I felt it like a storm wave crashing around me, pressing me to the floor. He advanced on the other figure, who cowered but did not yield, standing now between him and where I, where Brook lay. The air hummed with tension, bowstring tight as the larger shadow dwarfed the smaller, seeming to absorb it. When the strike came it was sudden and violent, a bolt of mind splitting pain that, while directed at the stooped figure, sent a rip of agony through me and I cried out. The smaller figure now lay prone and unmoving on the floor. The tall man turned at my cry. I could not see his smile but I felt his pleasure, his rush of victory at finally having his prize before him.
The man approached, slowly, leisurely, like a cat about a cornered prey. He had no need to rush, it was all his. His body seemed to glow with a cold light of its own, and as he stepped nearer I saw that his chest and arms were covered in lines of the same flowing script as Brook’s tattoo, filaments of silver sketched over every part of his bare torso and shining with power. I tried to crawl away from him but a terrible strength invaded my mind and fixed me in place like a hand at my throat, choking me.
“There is nowhere left to run to, your Highness.” His deep voice was mocking as he leered down at me, his dark eyes fixed on mine, forcing me to look. “Your allies are gone.” My eyes flicked to the now prone figure, lying still on the stone floor. Then, beyond that lifeless form, in the darkness near a far wall I saw something move. A shadow upon shadow, invisible but for two glimmers of red, bright eyes burning. Before I could hide my thoughts from the man he saw it too, and turned to where the shadow had moved, but quick though he was the shadow was quicker, and it leapt.
The man was sent flying, skidding to halt on his back near the brazier. The shadow was already on me and lifting me before leaping again, this time towards an arched doorway on the far side of the chamber. I could feel tendrils reach after me as I was carried away, snaking around my consciousness and seeking a grip, and I shrank inside my mind, cowering like a rat in a hole as a cold blooded predator eased inside. I almost fell to it, feeling my will being sapped away, but then I felt for my saviour’s strength and held on tight to it as those seething vines struggled and fell away, and then I let go as well, exhausted by the effort of holding on, and dropped again into darkness.
When I came back to myself I was kneeling next to Brook, my hand still gripping his. His eyes were closed and his head was rolled back in a faint. I looked to Asprey.
“What happened?”
“I…I don’t know. You took his hand and a moment later you fell from the chair to your knees.” His features were a wash of confusion and concern. “Then you cried out. Both of you did, at the same time. It was most odd.” He regarded us for a moment. “Was that…?”
“Yes. It was the connection. Though only once before was it like that, like I was there in his memory….” My mind was racing with what I had seen. The chamber, the tall man and the stooped, and then the shadow that had carried us away. Before I could stop to consider any of it, though, I would attend to Brook. I lifted him from his seat and Asprey guided me to a couch by the hearth in the workshop. I lay Brook on it before placing my coat over him, then sat in a chair at his side and gently stroked his brow. Asprey joined me and I told him what I had seen in Brook’s vision. He listened quietly, gazing into the fire.
“It would seem…” Asprey lifted a poker and idly pushed at the embers. “To confirm my hypothesis, at least. Regarding the creature.” He was right, but the thought gave me little comfort. The power I had felt from it that day in the woods was nothing compared to what the tall stranger had seemed to posses, and I did not doubt that our escape was due to his arrogance, not his weakness. I nodded grimly at Asprey’s words and we were both silent a while, letting the reassuring crackle of the fire fill the space.
“We should both get some sleep.” I finally decided. “I have a feeling tomorrow will be a busy day.” Asprey agreed and, after bringing some spare blankets for us, he left me in my place at Brook’s side and went to his bed. As I sat there I was reminded of that first night with Brook, that felt so long ago already, when I had waited with him, watching over him as he slept. Now, though, my mind was full of doubt. The more I learned of this strange boy, the more twisted his tale became, and for a second time I questioned my choice and my vow, deeming myself incapable of fulfilling them. With these dark thoughts to trouble me sleep came late, but it came, and my dreams were my own that night.
I dreamt of my Pa, as he had been when I was a boy. He was sat in his familiar place by the fire in our small kitchen, and I was on the floor in front of him, playing with the runt he had brought for me to rear. The dog was a little grey thing with a sleek, smooth coat, and I had named him Pebble. “It’s a sacred act, to give a name.” Pa had told me. “It’s like making an oath. I learnt that when I named you.” I had considered the words strange at the time, but they were a seed that grew in me as I grew, revealing their wisdom when the seasons came. They returned to me in my dream, as if Pa was speaking to me still, as if he still took his own oath as sacred.