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From: JM Phillips <jmphillips@btinternet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.gay.moderated
Subject: ST: Brothers, Crusades Part 1 (M/M, oral, anal, Inc)
Date: Thu, 13 Nov 2008 06:49:12 -0600
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===================

 

	John of Yrbeth lay on his bedroll watching the cave

entrance, he feared to move lest he split open the wound 

in his side again. Edric would be... displeased... to return

and find John bleeding again. Outside the sun climbed high, 

he could feel the baking temperatures on the outer ledge.  

He'd lain here now for many weeks, since his squire Edric 

had rescued him from the battlefield under the shadow of the 

Fortress of Kerak, with the head of a Saracen lance embedded 

in his side.



	His memories drifted back to England, to his home in the 

Manor of Yrbeth in the Duchy of Monmouth...



	...He sat astride the charger his father had bought him 

for his birthing day, watching his father marshal their troops 

for the march to Dover. King Richard had sent summons to his 

nobles to assemble their militias and to prepare to 

Crusade in the Holy Land to Free the Holy City from Heathen 

Occupation.  His father expected the march to take two weeks 

and they'd depart Dover on the next hulks for the Holy Land.  

The King, travelling over land as far as Messina as he had a 

poor tolerance for extended sea travel.



	Also, for his birthing day celebration four weeks past 

his father had give him a new broadsword of Damascus Steel, 

a shield bearing the red crusader cross on white back-ground, 

a fine linen gambeson and a custom-made chain-mail Armour. 



	At eighteen, bearing his knighthood, John should have 

felt the onset of manhood, but he was ill at ease.  

His father had started discussing a suitable bride for him 

when they returned from the Crusade.



	John had never known his mother, she'd died eighteen 

years ago after a difficult confinement and his birth had 

taken the last of her strength. His father had placed him 

with a milk mother; Clara had been one of his mother's 

matrons and she herself had birthed a healthy son bare days 

before her lady's labour had started.  It was left to Clara 

to assume responsibility for the young lord allowing the 

father to grieve the loss of a beloved young wife.  

It was John's belief, however, that his father's grieving 

had entered a rather self-indulgent phase as it had been 

going on now for eighteen years.  



	There was a strangeness in this matter though; John 

had never found any one else in the entire manor or the 

tenanted properties beyond who remembered his mother or her 

presence at the manor, the only people who knew of her were 

his father who only talked of her except when drunk and Clara.



	Though his father never came out and verbally blamed 

John for the loss, he was never slow with a critical remark, 

subtly timed to berate and remind him how different things 

might have been had his mother survived his birth.  

His father rarely talked about his beloved Elizabeth; the 

only times John remembered him doing so his father was deep 

into his cups on the potent red wine he imported from the 

vineyards of Southern Aquitaine, drowning his memories on 

the eve of his wedding anniversary. 



	What facts John had been able to glean of his mother's 

life were taught him by Clara, though on odd occasions Clara 

herself would stop talking, she'd look deep into his eye's, 

a deep, wistful sadness filling her face, she'd bite her 

lower lip as though to stop herself from saying something

before shifting her gaze out a window.  She'd retreat into 

herself gazing out the window for hours and she would say 

no more. As he grew closer to maturity he was aware the two 

harboured some big secret concerning his mother but he could 

never make headway in discovering what it might be.



	He'd grown to manhood running and playing about the 

Manor and countryside with Clara's base-born son, his milk-

brother Edric.  A situation his father easily ignored as it 

kept John out from under his feet most of the time, however, 

the decision to ignore their friend-ship came back to haunt 

old man when John insisted Edric was named his squire.  

The choice engendered a loud and violent argument twixt father 

and son in which objects where thrown and accusations made; 

John's victory that day was a hollow one after he'd resorted 

to emotional blackmail but he was aware, if his father were 

ever to see him as man and Knight then this battle over his 

squire, John had to win. 



	His father had allowed the choice to stand but had then

taken it upon himself to train Edric in his new duties so, 

he would not disgrace the manor.  Oft, John would watch as 

Edric left one or other of the training sessions white faced 

and, one time, in tears. He'd wished to rush over to his 

friend to comfort him, however, his father's presence atop 

the bailey steps made it clear he should stay his response.



	Later that evening, John had come to Edric's room 

which lay next to his own in the West Tower; he placed his 

arm around his friends shoulder to comfort and gently pushed 

him back so Edric was laying on the bed face up, feet on the 

floor.  John looked deep into Edric's eyes and lightly brushed 

his lips to Edric's; when Edric didn't object or turn away 

he continued and Edric responded by putting his arm around 

his brother's neck and pulling him in close and tight.



	Neither, could remember when their relationship 

blossomed from brotherly love to a more physical intimacy.  

The first memories of such had come on the day a tutor had 

beaten them for inattention in Study Hall. As usual, John 

had born the worst and as always he saw his fathers malign 

influence here as in so many areas of his life to make a 

man of him.



	Edric obtained some soothing balm from his mother and, 

as in the past, had started spreading it on John's sore back. 

This time, however, contact with his milk-brother's warm skin, 

had an elicited an unfamiliar response - his male member had 

begun to harden between his legs and he felt light headed. 

Not wanting John to witness his shame he'd bolted for the 

sanctuary of his own room, forgetting John had locked the door 

for a little extra privacy.  



	John had come up behind and light touched his shoulder

and he slowly turned to face his friend. The tender look on 

John's face had made a difference and as the danger moment 

passed Edric opened his breeches to display his shame; John 

had bit his lip and smiled mischievously, lowering his own 

breeches to he was hard, too. In that moment mutual desire 

brought them together, they started to doing things which 

both knew Father Francis, who was the manor's priest, would 

definitely disapprove of.



	John sealed the window as Edric threw more logs on 

the fire to warm the room through and they both retreated 

to John's wide bed. Removing the last vestiges of clothing 

they lay naked head to toe and began to examine the others 

maturing body. John had quivered with excitement as his 

friend stroked his shaft, he felt Edric shivering in the 

same manner as he stroked his brother but it was left to 

John to take matters further when he lowered his head to 

take a first taste of his brother.  He could taste Edric's 

earlier piss down the garderobe and finding enjoyment in 

that, he actively pursued further forbidden fruits.  



	From that evening their friendship and brotherhood 

had developed beyond what other's would consider natural, 

they became inseparable, with never a harsh word between 

them they faced off against the world; hence John's desire 

that Edric would become his squire... Edric and no other.



	He was aware of the difficulties his unusual choice 

had placed on his father. Lord Thomas had eschewed the 

tradition of placing his son in a friend's manor as a page, 

to begin his training as a Knight citing the loss of the 

boy's mother and his desire to keep his sole heir safe.  

Lord Thomas had also chosen to shed his French name of 

Pierre to take an Anglic one, a practice he'd continued 

by naming his son John rather than the more socially 

acceptable French Jean, these choices too, had set him 

apart from his peers who mostly maintained their Plantagenet 

French antecedents.



	However, in a recent ceremony Earl Thomas and with the 

blessing of their Duke at Monmouth he'd removed the last 

vestige of opposition to Edric as squire by making him a 

Baron, a minor noble, of an out-lying district in the demesne 

of Yrbeth.  Suddenly, the training with which his father had 

endowed Edric over the past year made sense to John and while 

he might never forgive the old man for his harsh methods, he

now understood what his father's on the matter were all along.



	With the order of march settled John looked to his right 

and felt a sudden surge of pride as Edric rode from the Bailey 

now wearing an almost matching set of equipment to John's, not 

quite a duplicate but almost. Edric's gambeson was of locally 

sourced wool, although finely woven and well crafted; his 

sword - also of Damascus origin - was of a standard design 

with plain hilt, his shield had obviously been sourced in the 

Manor and re-painted. Still, as a present from a Lord to a 

newly appointed vassal it was impressive and in John's eyes 

his brother seemed to stand taller and prouder than ever.  

Their eyes met and Edric grinned broadly as he rode closer, 

positioning himself so his body provided a little privacy 

from the crowd and John leant over toward him.



	Do you realise...' John said, all the girl's are 

swooning and making cow-eyes at us. We could have our choice 

and they wouldn't cry foul!  



	Edric's grin turned to a scowl, You really now how to 

dampen a situation, don't you, my l..o..r..d! he drawled the 

title out to mark amusement at John's disgusting suggestion.



	Well, I wouldn't want you getting all puffed up now 

your a Baron, now would I! John grinned to take the sting 

out of his words, Don't forget, Baron Edric of Llant, I 

still outrank you.  You still call me, Sir, young squire!



	Except in the bedroom... my l...o...r...d! Edric 

drawled it out to reinforce how submissive his brother was 

in private. The situation suddenly dissolved as they gave 

in to the giggles and burst out laughing.



	Thomas rode over to tell them to say their goodbyes;

they dismounted and walked over to the Manor door where 

Clara waited patiently; both hugged her and though she 

strove to maintain her dignity in public, tears welled in

her eyes as both lads bid her farewell. She knew she might 

not see one or both again.  



	Now, you boys be careful out there, you hear. You make 

sure you look after one an another and both of you come home 

to me, please... both of you!



	As they remounted his father now dismounted and walked 

over to Clara. They both turned faced the Manor doors but it 

was obvious strong words were being exchanged and as his 

father returned and mounted, John was startled to see, rather 

than anger his father was shamefaced; such a look of regret 

as John had never seen on his father's face; looking back he 

saw a look of victory on his foster-mother's face, he wanted 

to ask his father what was wrong but the familiar, taciturn 

stance had returned and now would not be a good time.



	Two weeks later, they and the larger force of the Duke 

of Monmouth's provision to King Richard's force arrived at 

Dover and in what was now, a long honed practice the men of 

the local lord showed them to a camp area where they were 

instructed to pitch and wait until the hulks and naves where 

in the harbour and ready to load.



 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 



	A light scuffling noise on the goat track up to the 

little cave in which they were hiding, brought him crashing 

back to the present and he grabbed for his sword; unable to 

stand and swing it effectively, the broadsword made him feel 

better, if it was his time to die then he'd die with a sword 

in his hand even if he was weak as a new born pup and flat 

on his back; better like this if a Saracen where to enter.



	You can put that bleeding thing away for a start! 

Edric observed as entered into the cave.



	Edric had used the old trick of closing one eye in 

the bright outdoor light so as not to stumble when entering 

a darkened location.



	You where gone a long time, John said in a voice 

twinged with concern, I thought they'd caught you!



	The Saracen's have moved off, the valley and plain 

beyond are empty of all save scavengers and the dead!  

The Saracens removed their own dead but left ours scattered 

every where. I found the outcrop of rock where His Grace made 

his last stand, your father's body's not there and neither is 

His Grace's son so I'd guess you were right about your father 

rescuing our new duke and getting him to safety!



	I definitely saw father grab Regulus, the Duke's 

charger, he then mounted Rigel and spurred the horse to 

Stephen's last position pulling Regulus behind; then that 

bastard Saracen trooper drove his spear into my side.



	I found a small nomad camp on the plain; they are 

scavenging the dead.  Truly, I can't make objection to them 

doing so as I looted some of the bodies myself taking rings 

and such small tokens.  I used a few to buy food and herbs, 

as the tribesmen were breaking camp.



	Are you sure that was a good idea? They may follow 

you back here or inform the Saracen!



	John, I was careful. It's why I've been gone so long. 

I walked in the opposite direction, covered my tracks as I 

went, I made sure they were headed off before I returned 

here by a circuitous route.  

	Anyway, those tribesmen bear no love for the Saracen; 

there are a number strung up to a tree.  Their Chief told me 

they'd been looting both Saracen and Christian dead. 

The Saracen patrols argued this and took steps.



	Edric knelt and used some of the water he'd obtained to 

soak the linen pad he had placed over John's wound. As the 

water, warmed by the sun on his trek back soaked into the pad 

he took care to wash his hands as the Arab physicians at Acre 

had taught him, he carefully peeled back the pad, holding his 

nose close to smell any rotten humours. When he was happy it 

was clean, he soaked it more before removing it completely and 

carefully probed the edges of the wound.



	It's healed well, brother. he said, We should take 

another week so you can regain your strength and then head 

out.  The tribesmen recommended Ashkelon as it's the closest 

friendly fortress and there are no Saracen between here and 

there.  How would feel about standing? Sit outside with me?



	I've lain here for over eight weeks, sweating and 

shivering in fevers.  Edric! Please help me stand!



	Outside the cave, Edric had placed a number of rocks 

so that their flat surfaces formed a bench of sorts.



	Remove those filthy breeches before you sit; we need 

to get some colour back in to your body, anyway!



	Remove my breeches!? You dirty bastard, John smiled 

at him, you just want to get your mouth round my shaft!  

That's why you've been nursing me back to health, so you can 

satisfy you're foul lusts on my poor, abused, innocent body!



	YES! So get those dirty bleeding breeches off! Time 

for you to pay me back for all that free nursing, 

my l...o...r...d!



	Yes, Sir! John grinned.



	Edric smiled, leant forward and kissed him as they 

resumed their unusual relationship, John sat in the sun as 

his stiff muscles began to relax after so long under cover 

in the cave. Edric knelt and used his tongue to trace the 

shape of his brother's shaft, in the stifling heat and the 

moist breath of his brother mouth John's shaft began to return 

to life.  Edric knew John would be unable to last long after 

such a period of confinement so he wasn't surprised when he 

felt John stiffen and grab his head in both hands, thrust his 

shaft deep into Edric's throat and unloaded his seed. As Edric 

pulled away he used his tongue to cleanse the last of his 

brother's seed. He stood to shed the last of his clothing and 

sat naked beside his brother on the sun warmed rocks.



	Edric, I want you in me! John said quietly, I know 

you've said again and again you'll never do it... about it 

being unnatural, bestial and all that sanctimonious shit you 

picked up from Father Francis, but... please!



	Ssshh, ssshh, ssshh, Edric placed his finger on his 

brother's lips.



	So, still no then! John whispered, disappointedly.



	You know, I just picked up a little bottle of olive 

oil from the tribesmen!



	So! Bloody! What!? John exclaimed, There's nothing 

to bleeding cook out here and we cant risk a fire anyway!



	Didn't you know you can use olive oil for many things 

other than cooking!



	Edric! What in God's Name are you twittering on about?



	Well, if I coat my shaft in the oil and work some of it 

into you, I think you'll find it'll be more comfortable!



John blinked, rocked back dumbfounded and puzzled.



	What? Ahh... You'll do it? He asked. What changed 

your mind?



	You! Me! This cave! The battle! Our experiences these 

past three years have changed us both. We've witnessed things 

done in the name of religion which no civilised man should or 

even could countenance.  The Templars slaughter and massacre 

Muslim innocents because the Pope in Rome commands it done!

	Mainly, though I've changed! I now know I love you, 

John, more than life itself. I almost lost you out in the 

battle and I realised I'd never given you the one thing you 

truly desired from me. The one thing you've asked me for time 

and again, something I refused you on the grounds of misplaced 

religious idealism.



	Edric rose, entered the cave and returned with his bed-

roll which he threw at John.  

	Open that up and spread it on the ground; then get on 

your hands and knees with your backside facing me!



	In the past it had become obvious to them both John was, 

privately at least, very submissive and from almost the first 

time in the West Tower he'd followed Edric's lead. His milk-

brother took control and here, now, outside this sanctuary 

he was about to give up the last bastion of his man-hood, 

to finally give his body to his brother in the ultimate act 

of submission.



	Edric, kneeling behind, drizzled a liberal amount of 

oil on to John's rear passage before allowing his fingers to 

begin massaging it into his brother's most private flesh; 

that part of John's anatomy which in future would be Edric's 

private preserve; here he would finally prove his total love 

for his brother. As John's body warmed in the sun so the 

olive oil was warmed by the heat of his body and Edric felt 

him relax, he lowered his head and supported it on his hands, 

giving himself over completely to his brother's control.



	Edric gazed in amazement as his brother's body opened 

to his fingers, he applied more oil and continued working 

it into the depths of his brother's body. An incredible wave 

of exultation overtook him as his brother's body relaxed at 

his touch, allowing his fingers deep inside, he felt the

shuddering waves of pleasure ripping through John's muscles 

and his own shaft was hard. 



	He now used both hands to get his left hand coated with 

oil too; when it was covered he reached between John's legs 

and started stroking the stiffening shaft he found there; 

hand slippery with the oil he was working into his brother,

John's body moved such that as his cock slid out of Edric's 

encircling hand so the fingers of Edric's other hand slid 

smoothly and easily inside his brother's compliant body.



	Once Edric felt John was ready he moved in behind; 

at his first try he realised John was to high and had him 

spread his knees to lower himself.  Edric looked down at 

his member, it was eight thumbs long, he had doubts as he

looked down it would ever fit into John's body; he was about 

to say something when John looked over his shoulder at his 

milk-brother kneeling behind, his face crazed with lust and 

growled, Don't think about it! Just do it!



	Edric pushed forward and sucked in a deep breath as for 

the first time in his life he felt the moist heat of another 

man's body on the head of his shaft. He reached down and 

pulled the skin back to revel in the feeling, wallowing in  

desire as he prepared to enter his brother's body.  His eyes 

like John's were glazed as lust took control and he entered 

his brother, slowly, gently, the olive oil and mutual desire 

conspiring to ensure his shaft slid in, on and on with-out 

let or hindrance.  



	The sight of himself buried in his brother's body drove 

Edric over the edge, lust crazed and beyond control he pulled 

out and slammed back in; setting a rhythm dictated by a primal 

urge beyond his ability to control, over and over his shaft 

sluiced in and out of his brother until his ability to restrain 

himself expired and with one last, extra savage thrust, he 

buried himself deep, threw back his head and as he screamed 

his conquest to the sky and his seed erupted deep in to his 

brother's body. With thrust after thrust, his pace began to 

slow as Edric continued to pump his seed into John's body.



	John's legs gave way, dropping to the bed roll allowing 

Edric to lay on his back and rest. He turned his head slightly 

so he could see Edric and from the look on his brother's face 

John knew that Edric was finally, totally his.  Whatever the 

future may bring, family, church, wives or children, he knew 

their love would make them inseparable.



	Edric allowed his half hard member to slip out and moved 

around so he was level with John's head; the lust on his face 

made it clear what he believed John's next duty was.  John 

looked and seeing nothing dirty opened his mouth and extended 

his tongue, he cleaned his brother, tasting the seed and the 

fluid of his own body as they mingled and he knew he'd finally 

achieved the roll in life he desired... servicing his brother's 

every need.



 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



	Within the week Edric announced John's wound healed and 

ready for the trek back to Acre; three days hard riding put 

them on the shores of the Dead Sea which they skirted to the 

south before heading across country to Ashkelon; here they 

found sanctuary in the Crusader fortress which had been built 

after the Fatimids had lost influence here. 



	The Knight Commander of the Fortress informed them 

King Richard had withdrawn to winter on the Island of Cyprus. 

He'd been named Duke of Cyprus after capturing the Island from 

Isaac Komnenos.  The commander also informed them the bulk of 

Richard's surviving troops plus those of Leopold of Austria 

and Philip Augustus of France where quartered for the winter 

around the County of Tripoli.



	In port they found a small vessel whose master was 

willing to take them and their horses north to Tripoli; 

Edric paid the exorbitant price with some of the bits and 

pieces looted on the battlefield and then while John 

supervised the loading of their steeds he headed back into 

the fortress returning afore the noon deadline weighed down 

by baskets, sacks and canteens.



	I spent the last of the trinkets buying food and water 

for the journey. I doubt the master has enough for passengers, 

too.



	Oh, God Save Me! Edric the Practical!



	Go hungry then! See if I care! Edric smiled. 

Practicality is the order of survival here! Take what you can, 

when you can!



	- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

To be Continued in Brothers in Arms: Crusades, Part Two

	- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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