Chapter Text
The bandits came on them like a hurricane.
Clawed feet thundered in the dirt. Plumes of dust rose in the wake of their reptilian mounts, spiraling around the crowd of frightened traders. Enkh stood in the eye of the storm, gripping his hiking staff with both hands as if that might steady him.
A horn blew. The whirl of leather and steel slowed to a halt, and a man in a sun-yellow vest raised his sword overhead. "You will give us all your goods," he roared, "and five men among you between twenty and thirty years!"
Petrified silence fell. Enkh had heard of these northern marauders before—bandits who took only men into their ranks, and gained new members by kidnapping all across the steppes. There had to be at least twenty—one for every three traders. Too many. Most had joined this caravan to escape violence, and even those who hadn't sworn off weapons altogether weren't trained.
But the bandits didn't know that.
Enkh looked again. This time he didn't let his eyes catch on their gleaming weapons, or the sweat-sheen of hard muscle on bared arms and chests. There was tension among them. The nervous energy of a snarling predator, hoping its prey will turn to flee and expose the back of its neck.
He stepped forward, slinging his staff over his shoulder like the club it was not. "We need supplies to travel to the great lakes, but we have luxury goods bound for sale—you can take those."
The leader grunted acceptance. "Three men. They will earn wealth beyond their dreams, if they are strong enough."
Enkh's mouth went dry. He glanced to the side and saw one of his agemates clutching a pan flute to his chest. As a boy he'd been forced into the war, and as a man he'd finally found peace here. The choice was no choice at all.
"I'll go with you, but I won't ask anyone to follow me."
The leader's eyes were dark as flint, with wrinkles at their corners that did nothing to soften them. Enkh stared into them, his heart in his throat, until the man chuckled and beckoned to him.
He approached the man's mount cautiously. The animal was unfamiliar—he didn't trust those slitted eyes, or the way it trotted about on two legs. The man held a hand down for him. He wished for a horse.
"Leave that," the bandit told him, nodding at his staff. "We have real steel for you to use."
And so Enkh left that last piece of home behind, taking a stranger's hand up onto the back of a monster. He sat in front of him in the saddle, strong arms bracketing him on either side, the scent of sweat and leather filling his nose.
"Hyah!" The bandits exploded into motion, carrying their plunder off across the plains and towards the setting sun.
For three days, they rode without incident.
During the day Enkh shared the bandits' mounts, sitting pressed against their chests, wishing he could blame the sun for his flush. In the evenings, he learned.
The leader who'd accepted his bluff was Altan, and when the bandits discarded their riding leathers at night, he revealed a jagged scar that ran from hip to ankle.
Their mounts were Dromae. The name, and the creatures themselves, came across the sea centuries ago—they were temperamental and vicious, but responded well to a firm hand. Enkh tried to learn to ride, and collected bruises for his trouble.
When the sun set, the men fucked each other. Enkh struggled to sleep beside two of them sharing a straw mat, grunting with every thrust. Altan sat by the fire with a different man every night, petting the hair of the head resting in his lap to suck his cock. One of the others pressed a wildflower into Enkh's palm, and later that evening he pleased the bandit with his hand.
On the fourth day, they came to a river. The sun was at its sweltering peak, and at the sight of water a ragged cheer rose from every rider, Enkh included. Then the other men stripped off their riding gear, and his voice died in his throat. Suddenly there was bare, scarred, sun-kissed skin everywhere he looked. The bandits all had athletic builds, though they varied wildly—some broad-shouldered and musclebound, some lean and wiry, some with thick, powerful arms and round bellies. Enkh had never seen this many naked cocks in his life. If there was a more intimidating setting to bathe in, he couldn't imagine it.
He could wait until everyone was asleep. But he'd been reeking of his own sweat for days, and if he had to endure this fucking sun for another minute without repreive he was going to lose his mind. So he draped his clothes over the back of the Droma he'd been sharing that day, and stepped into the shallows.
A few bandits watched him wade in. The back of his neck prickled with apprehension—he was keenly aware of his clit, swollen by the herbs he'd taken since he was a boy, twitching slightly in the open air. But though their looks dipped between his legs, they also roved over his shoulders, the plane of his chest, the cut of his hips. He flushed and waded deeper into the water.
As far as he could tell, no one else here was like him—there were dicks everywhere —but the stares seemed more interested in the new blood than anything else. They faded quickly, and he relaxed enough to dip his head underwater and finally rinse the dust from his hair. When he came back up, only Altan still watched him. He swallowed a fresh wave of nerves.
Several feet away, one bandit kissed another. They sank underwater in a tangle, and when they came back up they were reclined on the riverbed, hips pressed flush. Enkh blushed from the tips of his ears right down to his belly button and hurried deeper in. He passed a man sinking to his knees to take a cock into his mouth, then another on his hands and knees pushing three fingers into his hole. A nearby man grabbed him roughly by the hips and took him then and there.
It was everywhere. Waves lapped against Enkh's chest, kicked up by couples and groups thrashing in pleasure. He glanced back to the shore. Now that he was clean, he could just wade back out. Better than standing around like a waterlogged statue in the middle of an orgy. But as he scanned the crowd, he spotted another bandit by himself. Their eyes met. The man waded closer.
Enkh waited for him, his flush deepening as his ears filled with moans and whimpers, the slap of skin on wet skin, pleas for more, harder, faster. The man approached slowly, placing rough, calloused hands on his shoulders with surprising gentleness. Enkh leaned into the touch.
His hands wandered across his chest, rubbing his nipples, trailing lower. One dipped below the water to brush his inner thigh. Enkh's soft sigh hitched into a whine when he felt thick, blunt fingers graze his clit. The man took it between his fingers, stroking gently, while his other hand rubbed his slit.
The touch got faster, clumsier, as he fumbled to thrust a finger inside. He pulled Enkh into him, his stiff cock jabbing him hard in the lower belly. Enkh wrapped a hand around it and began to stroke. Another finger hooked into him, and he muffled a moan against his broad chest.
He pulled his fingers out, chuckling at Enkh's disappointed grunt, and gripped his hips. A sharp tug and he was halfway out of the water, wrapping his legs around the man's waist to steady himself. It took a bit of readjusting for the bandit to line himself up right—and when he did, he let go and Enkh sank down onto him with a sharp, "Oh!"
It wasn't gentle, now. Those hands gripped his hips hard enough to bruise and rocked him up and down, while Enkh could only wrap his arms around the man's neck for balance. His chin rested on the man's shoulder, so he could see behind him—where Altan was approaching.
His gut clenched. Then the cock inside him slammed home again and he lost the thread, his head lolling to one side as the bandit nibbled at his throat. Altan raised a hand, and brought it down on the bandit's ass, hard. He grunted and widened his stance, panting as the hand that just struck him dipped below the water. Enkh could tell what the leader was doing by the desperate gasps in his ear, the soft whimpers each time another finger stretched him wider.
Altan's eyes never left Enkh's. They were a tawny brown, but the sun was angled just right to turn them to liquid gold. A strange, covetous light burned inside them, and when he stepped closer to thrust his cock into the bandit's ass, his smile was all teeth. Enkh could hardly breathe.
The bandit's thrusts turned sloppy and desperate. He adjusted his grip, pressing Enkh against his front so that his clit rubbed between them and his spine went taut. In the instant that he tumbled over the edge, Altan grabbed a fistful of his hair and swallowed his moan. There was a metal ring in his tongue—Enkh shivered at the taste of it.
As his pussy clenched around his cock, the bandit groaned and lifted Enkh higher, pulling out just in time to spill himself into the river. Enkh ignored the flicker of disappointment and climbed off him, wading hastily towards the shore in case Altan wanted to go another round. All the way there, he could feel those eyes on him—not wandering over his body, but fixed between his legs.