From elf@halcyon.com Tue Feb 22 03:26:51 MST 1994
Article: 18751 of alt.sex.stories
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From: elf@halcyon.com (Elf Sternberg)
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Subject: Journal Entry 137 / 0931  [ Coming Home ]  (new!)
Date: 19 Feb 1994 03:28:29 -0800
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     Journal Entry 137 / 0931

     "Ken?"  My voice echoed curiously around the insides of the vaulted 
ceiling and floor of the chapel.  I had been in here only a few times, 
mostly in the beginning of when he and P'nyssa had vanished into space, 
lost for nearly five decades.  I had hated those years, every last one 
of them.  Despite all the time I spent in Backwater I never did 
understand religion or even the solace of faith until those awful years.  
I think I went through every stage of emotion possible in a living 
being, from desperation and rage to resignation and even peace.

     He was bent over in the second row, his head lying against the 
wooden railing of the first row.  As I approached, he raised his head to 
look at me, his eyes red and tired, his body weakened by crying and lack 
of sleep.  I slid beside him on the bench, placing an arm around his 
shoulders.  "You okay?"

     "No," he sighed.  "No, I don't think I'm okay.  I think I'm sick."

     "What kind of sick?  Should I call P'nyssa or Brieanna?"

     He shook his head, leaning against me.  "Neither.  Well, maybe 
Cheryl."

     "Nobody's heard from her in centuries."

     "I know."  He leaned against me and began crying again.  I pulled 
him into my lap and held him, waiting for him to finish, stroking the 
long, human fur that cascaded down his back.  He held onto me, sobbing, 
and I felt helpless, not sure what was wrong or why he needed to be 
consoled.

     His tears finally slowed, and I stroked his back gently.  "Feel 
better?"

     "No," he gasped through his tears.  "I don't know if I can ever be 
better again."  He looked up at me, his face wet.  "Aaden, I... I killed 
people out there.  I..."

     "Ken," I said, "You did what you had to do.  You couldn't save all 
those people.  You didn't kill them because you weren't there."

     "No, no, not the llerkindi.  The Sinox.  I... at one point I was 
fighting my way into the ruins of the palace and I came on six soldiers.  
They weren't in powered armor, just environment gear, and I... I just 
tore them apart.  I realized they were hunting for Anni and Stevves and 
I just went berserk.  I tore them up and splattered their blood all over 
the walls.  Do you know what powered armor will do to an unarmored 
biological?"

     "I can imagine," I said, not quite sure that I could imagine it.

     "The worst part," he continued, burying his head against my fur, 
"was that I enjoyed it.  I was snarling, Aaden, like I do when we do SM, 
and I remember the huge, vicious grin on my face, and oh gods, Aaden, I 
just, just wanna get sick and, and..."

     "It's okay, Ken."

     "NO IT'S NOT!" he shouted.  "IT'S NOT!  Don't you understand?  If, 
if the feelings are the same, Aaden, how can I be sure that the... 
reasons, the results aren't the same?"

     I stopped and thought about his words.  I wasn't sure how to answer 
him, because I wasn't sure of my own feelings.  The last time I was in 
combat was centuries ago, and it was very hand-to-hand; he was trying to 
kill me with a knife, and I killed him instead.  That was a very precise 
set of circumstances, and nobody would say I did anything other than 
self-defense.  "Ken," I started, hesitantly, "I think the best thing 
right now is that you're feeling this way... right now.  You don't like 
the fact that you killed people, you don't like what you became on the 
battlefield.  Tell me, do you ever feel this way when you top?"

     "Huh?" he said, looking up.  A very common phrase in his 
vocabulary.  "No, of course not.  I... I know what I'm doing then, and I 
know I have permission."

     "Ken, those were soldiers.  They knew what they were getting into.  
And, from your perspective, from our perspective, they were animals that 
needed to be removed from the face of the universe.  They got what they 
asked for.  That's what war is.  It's supposed to be ugly and 
unpleasant, it's supposed to make you want to throw up."

     "But..."

     "No 'buts,'" I said, standing up.  He looked up at me, his face 
reflecting an immensity of pain that I don't think I would ever 
understand.  I reached down with one hand and said "Come on."

     He hesitated, then finally grasped my hand in his.  I hauled him up 
to his feet , then swept him up into my arms.  "It's not as easy to do 
this with you as it is with the kids," I observed.  He smiled, finally, 
then wrapped his arms around my neck and let me carry him back upstairs, 
through the Castle and back to our home.

     I carried him back to bed and eased him down to the covers.  
Sliding in beside him, I reached out and held his hand with mine.  He 
patted my hand with his free hand.  "Thanks."

     "I don't need thanks," I said.  "I need my Ken back.  The one who I 
love.  The one who loves me."  I stroked his chest, feeling the clasp 
under my fingertips.  I hooked one claw underneath the top of the clasp 
and pulled downward, separating the two halves of his shirt.  It fell 
open; he's given to wearing long, flowing shirts with plenty of sleeve 
room, and just by brushing the cloth aside I found I could get under his 
armpits, where he's most ticklish, and stroked downwards.  

     His back arched instantly and he hissed.  "Aaden!"

     "Just seeing if you're awake," I said.

     "I'm awake, I'm awake."  He grabbed my wrist in his hand.  "Don't 
tickle me."

     "But I like tickling you.  See?"  I began tickling him in earnest, 
digging into his sides.  He fought back, of course, but it didn't do 
much good.  He was laughing and giggling and screaming too much.

     "I hate that!" he said.

     "Uh-huh," I said.  I reached down and undid the buttons on his 
pants, pulling them open.  "Help me take these off."

     "What are you planning on?"

     "I'm planning on putting you to bed, you oaf.  You have been in 
that chapel all day.  Do you realize it's already four?"

     "It is?" he asked, raising his head to look out the window.  "Gods, 
I totally lost track of time."

     I pulled off his shoes and tossed them aside, then tugged on the 
hem of his pantlegs.  He raised his hips and eased them off.  "Now turn 
over," I said.  He complied, rolling over onto his stomach and 
presenting his gorgeous butt to me.

     I threw off my own clothing, a simple kimono, and climbed onto bed, 
settling myself over his butt.  I reached down and touched his back with 
the fingerpads of one hand, slowly easing down onto his shoulders.  With 
the other I grabbed a small bottle of oil and dropped some onto his 
back.  Then I began rubbing.

     He sighed softly as I massaged the tension out of him, trying to 
get him to relax, ease down.  His body was wired stiff with frustration; 
I'd seen this in him before, usually when he has some brilliant 
inspiration of code and can't get it out of his head until he's either 
so exhausted he can't stand or has gotten it down onto paper or into 
memory somewhere.  The trouble is that somewhere while writing the ideas 
down he reaches the point where he's too tired to be coherent, yet not 
tired enough for the idea to let him rest.  P'nyssa and I usually end up 
trying to shorten that time in between with some exercise.

     He shifted slightly.  "Something wrong?" I asked as my hands 
caressed his back in long, slow strokes.

     "I'm getting a hard-on," he said, laughing slightly.

     "There, see?  You know the difference between love and war."

     "It just..."

     "Shhhh....  I know."  The image of his hard cock hovered in my 
mind, and the idea that he was getting erect started to give me an 
erection of my own.  I eased down off his buttocks and onto his thighs, 
dripping oil onto his cheeks to make rubbing them easier.  He moaned a 
little louder.  He loves having his ass played with, even the cheeks, 
suggestively.  

     I stroked down his thighs, working my along his body, admiring the 
tone of his skin and the feel of his soft flesh under my hands.  Ken 
isn't the athlete I've sometimes pretended to be, but he does run around 
with the children and hike up and down the hills in the Rocho-ened 
range.  That, at least, keeps him healthy.  That, and regular exercise 
in bed, at any rate.

     He tightened up a little when I reached his feet, but he's insecure 
about his feet because they're so ticklish, and they're such a perfect 
torture spot for me to exploit.  But not this time; I tried to relax 
him, not make it worse.  "Feel good?"

     "Feel better, at any rate," he allowed.

     I slid up beside him and kissed him on his cheek.  "I was worried 
about you.  Am worried?"

     "I know," he replied.  "I felt... so bad.  I can't help thinking 
about it."

     "Ken," I said, touching his face with my hand, "It'll probably 
haunt you for years to come.  But you can't help that.  What you have to 
do is realize that that... that was war.  The rules are different in 
war."

     "There are no rules in war."

     "You say eleni, I say elani, but they both mean 'star,'" I said, 
switching into Anglic for the final word.  "I just... Hey!"  His hand 
had reached out and grabbed my penis.  "I'm supposed to be relaxing 
you."

     "Aaden," he said softly, "Would you fuck me?"

     I wasn't all that surprised by the request; if I was going to give 
Ken a massage, it would have to be all over his body, and now he wanted 
me to finish it by rubbing him down from inside.  I slid over on top of 
him again, stroking my cock back to full hardness as I knelt over his 
thighs.  With the massage oil I greased my shaft and dripped more into 
the cleft of his ass.

     "Ready?" I asked.

     "Mm-hmm," he replied.  I aimed downwards, watching with 
anticipation as the head of my cock touched his oiled ass.  It slid down 
between his cheeks and found his well-worn asshole.  I pressed inwards 
and he accepted me instantly.  I felt the tight ring of his asshole grip 
around my cock and I felt his guts give way as I penetrated him to the 
hilt.

     Ken has a habitually tight asshole.  By that, I mean that he's in 
the habit of exercising it regularly while he sits at his desk.  If he's 
working, when he stops to take a sip of coffee you can see him moving 
ever so slightly, doing his Kegels.  He developed that into a habit just 
for me, he says, but I doubt it; Ken knew he liked getting fucked and 
fisted for at least a few centuries before we met, and I bet he's been 
making sure his asshole would be tight for every man that came his way 
since he figured it out.

     My hips pressed down to his buttocks.  I'm told, but I really 
wouldn't know, that a woman's vagina holds the penis for the length of 
the shaft.  In men, it's only the opening that really strokes the cock; 
the rest is noticeable, but not enough friction to get me off.  I could 
feel Ken's ring tightening around the base of my cock, gripping me.

     I pushed up with my arms, looking down to watch my cock sliding in 
and out between his cheeks as I slowly made love to him.  His eyes were 
closed, and small tears were dripping down his nose onto the bed.  His 
hands gripped his pillow tightly, his knuckles slightly whiter.  I felt 
his body shuddering underneath mine as with each downstroke my cock slid 
over his prostate.

     "Oh, Aaden, I needed this, I needed this so much," he gasped as I 
slowly pumped in and out of him, again and again.

     "I'm here to give you what you need, Ken," I replied as I stroked 
within him.  I felt him push his hips up to meet my downthrusts, but I 
never went any faster or any harder.  I wanted this to last, to exhaust 
him, to put him out cold.  One nice thing about oil, it lasts a lot 
longer than that water-soluble stuff that Ken and I usually use.  I 
didn't need to add more during this long and slow act of love.

     He gasped and twisted at the sheets as I rhythmically stroked his 
wonderfully tight ass.  I felt my cock start to throb and my head start 
to go light, sure signs that climax was oncoming.  My testicles started 
to rise up in their sac and I knew I was going to come in very short 
order.

     But Ken surprised me.  Suddenly he let out a loud gasp and his 
whole body shook.  I felt his asshole clench and tremor as he came, and 
the sounds coming from his mouth thrilled me so much I gave him just 
three more strokes before erupting in pleasure myself, letting go deep 
inside his asshole.

     He was laughing as I slid out of him.  I rolled over onto my side 
on the bed.  "Don't look at me like that," he said, reaching out and 
pulling me into his arms.  "You were just what the doctor ordered."  He 
paused.  "Come to think of it, did Nyss put you up to this?"

     "We talked.  We decided it was best if I handled this alone.  It's 
a male thing, you know."

     He laughed and hugged me tightly, and I felt much better.  But I 
was still concerned with his feelings much more than my own.  "How do 
you feel?" I asked.

     He shook his head to clear his hair out of the way.  "Good," he 
admitted.  "Good and... exhausted."

     "That's what I brought you to bed for in the first place."  I 
reached to the bedside and pulled up one of the towels we always leave 
there for just such an occasion.  "Now, clean yourself off and get under 
the covers.  I'll be right back."  I rose from the bed and went into the 
bathroom to wash myself.

     When I returned, he had gotten into bed like I had asked.  I leaned 
over and kissed his cheek softly, then crawled into bed beside him.  He 
had curled up into a fetal position, and I curled up beside him, holding 
him.  "Thanks, Aaden.  For being the best friend and lover I could ever 
ask for."  He paused for a second, then amended, "For a male."

     I kissed his shoulder.  "Goodnight, Ken."

     "Goodnight, beloved."

--
"Coming Home"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales 
are copyright (c) 1994 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.  May be freely distributed 
by electronic media; hardcopies are limited to single printings for 
personal use.