12. A Journey Begins

ENTIN

CHAPTER 12

For some reason, Entin had thought there would be just one cave. As it turned out, many dozens were dotted throughout the valley Cascade called Mountainhome. There were so many that not all of them were occupied. Due to the tall trees and the rocky, steep terrain, all were hidden from sight from the trail that traversed the valley.

Entin was overwhelmed, trying to take it all in. Cascade had been doing his best to explain how things operated in Mountainhome, but Entin had difficulty not being distracted by the beautiful surroundings. Each new plant or flower captivated him, and he was constantly distracted by the world he'd just discovered.

"I moved into my own cave when I reached thirteen summers. Same as everyone," Cascade was saying. "In my tribe, that's the age you must be able to support yourself. Of course, we help each other when we can, but the point of Mountainhome is resilience. Each man and woman here can perfectly care for themselves. Finding the right cave to call my own took me weeks, though."

They turned off the main trail as they passed a copse of the tallest trees Entin had ever seen. He stared up at the trunk of the nearest, losing himself in its sheer scale, until Cascade yanked him back to reality.

"You almost walked right off the slope!" Cascade chided.

"Sorry, I'm easily distracted. It's just so different from Summerhome," Entin laughed.

It was hard for him not to blush when the other man looked in his direction. His gaze was piercing, and his honey-amber eyes glittered with an intellect Entin hadn't experienced in another. Behind his superficialities, Cascade was complicated—wounded, even. Entin found himself naturally drawn to understanding him. Perhaps he was even deluded enough to believe he could heal the man who had captured him. His thoughts and feelings had become a tangled mess, and he did his best not to trip over them as he followed Cascade up the latest trail.

Their path eventually leveled out and traced along a ridge about halfway up the valley's rim. Ahead, a narrow sliver opened up in the face of the rock. Cascade jogged to its entrance, then beckoned Entin to follow. The sort-of-captive looked one last time out into the valley. The Slumbering God and its plume of coal-black smoke seemed to warn him of something—though of what he wasn't sure. Entin took a deep breath, then followed Cascade into his cave.

It was dank and chill inside. The passage into the interior was a narrow opening in the rock, barely the width of an adult man. Entin had to turn sideways to squeeze through. A feeling of claustrophobia pressed into him from every side as the opening narrowed until he finally emerged into a larger space. A cool breeze blew back his hair as he stared into the dark.

"Cascade?" he called.

His voice echoed off myriad unseen surfaces.

There was a spark. And then another. And then a tiny fire roared to life in one corner of the underground space, sending weak light flickering across it. Cascade returned to Entin's side. The man looked at him expectantly, eager to gauge Entin's reaction to his home.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the still-dim light. After a time, Entin finally relaxed enough to take in what he was looking at. The cave was much smaller than Main Cave. He couldn't see into every corner, but it was at least a few spans across. A trickling noise directed his attention to the far wall, where a small but steady waterfall spilled across the stone, pooling into a shallow stream and flowing out of sight through an opening near the floor. Beside it were various stacks of delicately balanced stones arranged on a natural ledge. Each was placed with care. Above them, a giant bear skull hung suspended from leather straps. And near the fire, a bed made of boughs and furs awaited. Various hides, jars, and tools were neatly arranged off to one side.

"See? Not as bad as you were expecting, right?" Cascade said.

The lanky man was shuffling around in the shadows again. To Entin's surprise, he emerged with a pair of old moccasins.

"I just remembered I still had these. They might be a little big… I used them until I outgrew them. They should tide you over until I can make you some new ones," Cascade said.

He held out the leather shoes to Entin, who accepted them gratefully.

"This is very generous," Entin said quietly.

And it was—leathers and footwear were some of the more tedious crafts. His feet did hurt, too. He looked down at them. They were cracked and blistered, covered in dirt and old scabs. Entin suddenly felt self-conscious. Cascade's close-cropped hair and relative cleanliness made him feel uncivilized—like a man with no tribe.

"You're going to need one of these, too, unfortunately," Cascade said.

He was holding out a stone-tipped spear. Entin regarded it warily.

"I've never held one before," he said.

"You'll learn," Cascade promised. "I'll teach you."

Entin reached out and hesitantly took the weapon with his free hand. It was lighter than he expected. Balanced. But the thought of using it to harm another was as foreign a thought as any, and he instinctively wished to put it down. He made to do so, only to feel Cascade firmly clasp his hand around his, drawing them together, bound by flesh and spear.

"No," Cascade growled. "You must not fear it. Your life depends on this now."

Entin trembled, realizing he did fear it. But his fear didn't end at the tip of the spear. No. He feared Harlak. He feared the Wolves. He feared the world. He even feared the feelings he had for the man clasping his hand to the shaft, piercing into him with the intensity of his gaze.

"But I do fear it," Entin admitted in a whisper.

Cascade clasped him by the back of his skull and drew their foreheads together. Entin tried to resist, but Cascade was the stronger by far. Entin tried to look away, but there was nowhere to look except back into Cascade's stare. In the dim shadows of that cave, there was a genuine moment where Entin considered closing his eyes and never opening them again. It seemed reflexively preferable to being seen—to being vulnerable. But he pushed through his discomfort. He wanted to believe in something more than fear. And so Entin stared back at him. His hand tightened on the spear.

"I will take care of you. I swear by my ancestors," Cascade said fiercely.

His lips brushed Entin's ear, and Entin realized that he'd grown hard. He moaned as Cascade's coarse hand found him under his leathers. It felt cold to his hot, and the sudden contact of skin on skin caused his cock to drip with wanting.

Entin dropped the moccasins dumbly to the floor. He tried to release the spear, but Cascade wouldn't let him. The taller man looked at him savagely, then pushed him roughly onto the fir boughs with the spear's haft. Entin landed with a whomp. The bedding was surprisingly deep and soft. The pelts that covered it were lavish compared to his bed back in Summerhome. Cascade was on top of him before he could orient himself. He held him down with the spear firmly across the thick of his torso.

"What are you…?" Entin began.

Cascade gave him a look—a sensual and perplexing look—right before he…

"Oh," Entin gasped in shock.

Cascade still had him pinned by the spear on his back. He was doing something to Entin that he'd never fantasized about. Cascade had wrapped his generous lips around his cock—and the sensation was unreal. The sudden wetness and warmth, coupled with the unexpected act, caused Entin's breaths to come in fevered rasps. He watched as Cascade worked his shaft, hypnotized by the sight of him bobbing slowly up and down. The length of his manhood disappeared into the handsome man's mouth over and over and over—and Entin realized this must be what it felt like to bed someone. Cascade never broke eye contact with Entin while he worked him. He tugged at his balls with his free hand and intermittently licked and toyed with the tip of his shaft, and all the while, the wetness and the pleasure spread until Entin wondered if he'd only just now come to life for the first time.

Cascade's tempo quickened. The pressure of the spear across Entin's chest and the sensation of surrendering himself fully to another crashed into the thrill and terror of what was to come—and all of it erupted at once into a titanic orgasm that caused Entin to cry out pathetically as he loosed volumes of himself into Cascade's eager mouth.

The other man had sensed Entin about to come and locked his lips tightly around the base of his shaft as he did so, welcoming him to spend himself inside of him. And it was that notion—of coming inside another—that had Entin reeling as he continued to ejaculate. Cascade waited until long after he was done, then gently licked him clean. Entin's half-hard cock flopped meatily from his mouth as he finally let him go.

Only then did Entin finally realize Cascade wasn't the one holding the spear anymore.

He was.