by Pfantazm
One other thing. I'm no scuba diver, but I'd be willing to bet enormous sums of money that the scene with Mactel cannot and should not be duplicated in real life. So don't try.
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He had a hell of a head start and the sanctuary of the trees was not far ahead. Luck had been with him. He'd seen the mounted rider while the horse had been standing still. The tabard that the rider wore bore the mark of a king's knight. Thom had been standing at the opposite side of the stream, taking water into his small waterskin, and the knight had been some distance away, but staring directly at him. Over a short distance, he knew, a man could outdistance a horse, and in the forest there was no contest. With his strong, quick legs, the Dark Rogue would escape capture once more. That's what the people had called him. They used more emphatic and descriptive words when yelling at his retreating back after he'd stolen from them. He was rather proud of the name, though. It indicated his phenomenal success as a thief. In his head, he was still just Thom At-the-Well, and what he did for a living was just another job. One that happened to be illegal. It afforded him the adventure he craved and gold enough to live, and the cost was a quick wit, quicker feet, and a price on his head. And he would be twice damned if anyone would be cashing it in now. He could hear the knight's horse behind him, coming closer, though he dared not look. His permanent home, the forest, was tantalizingly close now. Perhaps the location would change, different trees, but the overall forest, wherever it may be, was his. It beckoned to him now, offering safety from pursuit. And just as he reached it, it betrayed him. His foot caught a half-buried root, and he tumbled headlong into the ground. Before he could rise, the knight stood over him, his longsword at Thom's throat, demanding surrender. Thom raised his hands submissively and the knight yanked him to his feet roughly. "What is your name?" he asked. "Thom At-the-Well." "You wear the costume of a thief. We've had some trouble with a notorious one hereabouts of late. Know you anything of it?" "No, sir. I stick to the wilderness mostly. Haven't seen a soul in days." The knight drew his dagger, then sheathed his sword. He reached for the sack that hung around Thom's shoulder and opened it. When he found only a pair of apples, and his lockpicks, Thom grinned wolfishly. The lockpicks themselves were not illegal, and the apples he'd actually bought. The knight proceeded to feel around the man's body, searching for the diamonds that he expected to find and that Thom knew he wouldn't. The knight's ungloved hand first prodded the man's raised arms, shoulders, and armpits through the loose, black shirt. His fingers found the well-muscled chest, stomach and back that belonged to anyone who lived by climbing the outsides of palaces and strongholds. Satisfied that Thom concealed no jewels on his upper body, he moved to the lower body. Circling his captive once again, the knight examined Thom's legs manually. They were more impressive than the rest of him, thick and strong. Thieves that were flabby were quickly caught. Obviously no stones protruded through the tight breeches, but it never hurt to be sure. The knight knew that some thieves would conceal things in more private areas, believing that no one would want to search them there, but this knight had no such objections. With the dagger constantly threatening Thom, the knight reached under Thom's shirttail to his backside. Above his firm buttocks, the knight had his first success. "What is this?" he asked as he pulled free a light grey collar which had a squared edge, like battlements. "The Dark Rogue wears a collar like this." "I found that earlier this morning," Thom protested. He knew that the knight would not do a thing unless he found the diamonds that the Dark Rogue had stolen the previous evening. The tabard he wore was red with a gold dragon, indicating that this was one of King Dunstan's High Guard. He was secretly flattered that he merited such attention. It meant that this knight would be scrupulously fair, and the collar was but circumstantial evidence. The knight stared down with cold, blue eyes then returned to his investigations. He finished checking Thom's hips and rear, even dipping a hand inside the breeches briefly. His hand then moved around to the front. The knight soon found something hard, but not so hard as diamond. He straightened up and glared at Thom. Thom turned down his eyes and blushed. It seemed he had passed examination. Until, that is, the knight stepped deliberately on the toe of Thom's boot. When he heard the crunch of diamonds pushing each other out of the way, Thom grimaced and his body sagged slightly. "Take off your boot," the knight ordered. When Thom complied, he snatched the boot and poured the gems into his hand. "Must I check the other one?" he asked. Thom wordlessly removed the other boot and proffered it. As the knight collected the rest of the diamonds Thom stood there in stocking feet, sneering. He didn't bother running. He was finished. The knight kicked the boots back over to Thom and said, "You are under arrest for thievery. You've not killed anyone, Dark Rogue. This will work in your favor. You'll likely merely be imprisoned, not executed. You will come with me to face the King's Justice." He got a rope from his horse, his dagger always ready. He tied the Dark Rogue's hands together, leaving plenty of spare rope on both sides. Then he ordered Thom to mount the horse, and sit behind the saddle. Then the knight carefully mounted and took his place in the saddle. He had the thief raise his hands over his head. He tied the play of rope around himself after he made Thom lower his arms so that Thom had him in a kind of bear hug. Deftly tying the ends of the rope at his own lower back, he had the thief secure. "We are now tightly bound together. If you try to escape, you will knock us both from the horse, and you will likely kill us both. Understand?" Thom nodded. "After we return the diamonds, we will ride to the capital where you will stand trial." The knight prodded the horse into motion and set out for the scene of the crime. Thom had to lean forward in order to wrap his arms around the knight's expansive chest. As such he had to rest his face, turned to the side, against the cuirass on the knight's back. It was rough, several straps of thick material woven together. Because of the jolting up-and-down motion associated with riding, his face was being quite roughly treated. Suddenly the thief realized that the knight wasn't wearing a metal breastplate, but leather armor! It was a bold decision. If this man was sent out thieftaking, then the close contact involved made leather armor next to useless. Why if he could just get his own dagger, he might wound his captor just enough to discourage him from pursuing the Dark Rogue any longer. As the knight had said, Thom never killed anyone on one of his raids. He thought that showed sloppiness. He didn't want to hurt his victims, just deprive them of whatever pretties they may have had. Thom turned his head to the other side, partly to give his cheek a break and partly to look down to where his dagger was. He remembered that the foolish knight hadn't confiscated it. It wasn't there! It must have fallen off while Thom was fleeing for the wood. His dagger was gone, and with it, his only hope of escaping from the knight. When they came to the store where Thom's most recent crime had taken place, the knight asked of a citizen standing out front, "Please go and fetch out the merchant who owns this shop." Moments later, a portly man with dark hair and a beard came out. "You are the owner of this store?" he asked. "Yes, I am Caractacus the Jeweller. What is this about?" "I have come to return what was stolen from you," he said, producing the bag of diamonds he'd collected from Thom's boots hours ago. He tossed it to Caractacus, who caught it greedily. The merchant opened the pouch and looked inside. He beamed. "Thank you! What is your name, goodknight?" "I am Sir Madoc of the Court of King Dunstan. But now I must get this man to that court to stand trial." "You mean this is--" "Yes. The Dark Rogue has been apprehended," Sir Madoc replied as his horse sidestepped slightly. A crowd was steadily gathering, frightening the steed somewhat. Just then, Thom felt something crash into his back. It was an egg. "Gee up!" the knight commanded, and the horse moved forward. The crowd shuffled apart to allow them to pass, then closed in quickly behind them. Many angry cries could be heard, and Thom saw several townspeople whispering to each other, the news of his capture spreading like fire. Others were throwing rotten fruit or eggs at him, always from behind so as not to hit Sir Madoc. Thom shrank in on himself as he endured the catcalls and the bruises from things thrown at him. Some of them felt like rocks. It was the most humiliating thing he'd ever experienced. Mercifully, Sir Madoc rode through the city as quickly as he could, leaving even faster than they'd come. He had always picked his targets carefully, gauging their popularity in nearby towns. Caractacus, for example, was thought of as showy, and apparently charged overmuch for his wares. He enjoyed listening to local gossip. Occasionally, his own professional name would come up. The tales he heard made him believe he was something of a folk hero. It excited him hearing his own exploits exaggerated for his own waiting ear. Nothing had prepared him for the hatred he experienced in Karelia that afternoon. Thom realized that he'd received no rough treatment from the knight. Most suspected criminals were dealt with harshly, even by the High Guard. Sir Madoc could have ordered him to strip to the raw to have his clothes searched. Instead, he'd only been subjected to the minor indignity of being felt over by the knight. Strangely, Thom found himself wishing he had been told to undress for him. He imagined himself standing on the edge of the wood, being subjected to Madoc's close scrutiny, a slight breeze passing tenderly across his naked form. For some reason the knight was ignoring the pile of clothing, choosing instead to examine his body with his hand as he had in reality. First passing across his arms and sides, then his back and now his chest. The knight stared impassively into Thom's smiling face. Using both hands now (the knight's dagger had never been there), he carefully stroked his legs, top to bottom, measuring every contour. Then special attention was paid to his ass, searching for hidden treasures. Then at last, questing hands passed across his hip to his diamond-hard member... Thom snapped back into reality, quivering. The alien fantasy retreated. He had never had thoughts like that before. They were odd, yet oddly attractive to him. He remembered the look the knight had given him when he reached that part of the real encounter. Sir Madoc's hand had rested briefly on his erection and then came the stare. The knight seemed to show emotion rarely, and in that stare there had been little enough. There had been no anger, no disdain. How to describe it? Shock? Something had burned briefly in those cold eyes. Surprise? Disapproval? Fear? At that moment, Thom was glad that he was forced to sit behind the saddle, so as not to prod the knight with his stiff member. After he dismounted, he helped Thom to the ground. The thief's legs were incredibly sore! They'd only been riding a few hours, but Thom had never ridden a horse before in his life. He had almost collapsed once he'd set his feet down. The knight brought his dagger out again. He untied the rope around his captive's wrists. Thom massaged and flexed them. They were almost as sore as his thighs. "Take your shirt off," he ordered. Thom's eyes went wide. "Go and wash it in the lake. I'll not have you smelling of rotten eggs while you ride with me." He removed his belt and his shirt, exposing his chest and back to the still-warm sun. "Are we stopping here for the night? I usually bathe before going to sleep." Sir Madoc looked carefully around. "Alright. We'll stop here. Get on with it." Thom dropped his shirt, kicked off his boots and peeled off his socks. He slipped off his breeches, and began to disrobe completely when Sir Madoc barked, "Leave your smallclothes on!" Thom padded to the lakeside wearing only the double triangle of cloth that gripped him across the buttocks and only just covered his swelling manhood. Sir Madoc bent down and picked up the discarded shirt. "Thom," he called out. Thom looked back. The knight tossed over the shirt. "Wash that?" he said, bemused. "Right," Thom replied intelligently. "Are you sure this is safe?" he taunted, turning back to face him. "I'm an excellent swimmer." "As am I," the knight responded curtly, the blade of his dagger flashing in the receding sun. Thom stepped into the murky lake water, impossibly cold after the warm day. Once submerged, he undid the small knots that held his smallclothes together. He then waded out to some handy reeds that would conceal precisely what he was doing. He used a cattail to help scrub the egg and the fruit from his sodden shirt. He washed himself thoroughly, taking special care of his cock, limp now, and his behind. He checked his secret weapon and carefully cleaned it, taking care never to bring his hands too near the water's surface. Thom was glad still to have an ace up his sleeve, so to speak. He put on and tied the smallclothes, making himself decent for Sir Madoc again and left the water. There was little point really, since the thing was white and was now displaying his cock for anyone who could see. Sir Madoc grabbed him by the wrist and brought the rope to it using the hand with the dagger. "Put your hands together," he commanded, his voice somewhat shaky. Thom did so after throwing his shirt onto his shoulder, and the knight set about tying them up again. He noticed the knight took care to concentrate on what he was doing, never letting his eyes stray. Sir Madoc turned Thom forcibly around to face a stout tree. "Move," he ordered. Thom marched over to the tree, wondering why the knight was having to fight to keep from looking at his backside, also visible through the cloth. There was something odd there... When they got to the tree, Thom was told to turn around and raise his arms again. He did so. Sir Madoc wrapped the long rope several times around a thick branch over his head, and then tying the ends in a knot on the other side of the tree, complicated enough to use up most of the loose rope. He then took the wet shirt and draped it over a low branch. "What about my breeches?" Thom asked. Sir Madoc looked at him. Without a word, he stomped over and collected Thom's dry clothes. He marched back. Thom said, "Unless you untie me, you'll have to put them on me yourself." He grinned. "Raise your legs," he said. "The branch will support your weight." Thom gripped the rope between the branch and his wrists, so as to put less strain on them, and hefted himself into the air. The branch creaked and bounced, but it didn't break. Sir Madoc kneeled down and presented the open part of the trousers for Thom's legs. Thom slipped his feet inside and noticed that Sir Madoc turned away before pulling them up. Thom started twisting his body around once Sir Madoc made it to the knees, to make the chore as difficult as possible. Still the knight refused to look. Something has changed since he caught me in the woods, he thought. He's gotten nervous. Perhaps I can use this. "Stop that! Stay still!" he shouted angrily. Thom complied, mainly because his arms were tiring. Finally the breeches were all the way on. Thom put his feet back down. Sir Madoc fastened the hook and started to walk over to his horse. "And my boots?" Thom asked innocently. "You won't be needing them," Sir Madoc growled, without turning. Thom chuckled. Sir Madoc's steed was busily chewing on meadowgrass, oblivious to the horseplay going on between the two humans. The animal was obviously well trained, for it hadn't wandered off while unattended. Sir Madoc went through the process of grooming the horse and rubbing it down after the day's exercise. After the horse was tended to, Sir Madoc prepared for his own bath. Thom had a good view of the process. The knight removed his tabard, folding it reverentially. Then he unbuckled his cuirass. Beneath it, he wore a blue tunic and silver-grey hose. These he removed, ignoring watching eyes. Being a knight had many of the same physical qualifications as being a thief. You couldn't let yourself get out of condition, or you were dead. Sir Madoc had broad shoulders and bulky arms, ridged with muscle. His waist was tapered nicely, narrowing from a firm stomach and barrel chest. His legs were those of a rider, strong from having to grip the horse between them. Thom considered the pair of them. He himself was only 25, his short career as a thief having been a bright one. But that career was brought to an end by one not so far from his own age. He looked to be a little younger, perhaps, his career only starting. Sir Madoc's hair was very dark brown, almost black, and straight. It was cut short in back, but left slightly longer in front. The hair framed a face that was roughened, humorless, perhaps because of the high demand being a High Guardsman placed on him. His blue eyes were all the more bright, contrasted with his weathered, tanned skin and dark hair. Thom was paler and had hazel green eyes. His hair was dirty blond, and not as neatly kept as Sir Madoc's. They were both clean-shaven. He watched as the knight prepared to sink into the water. He felt a familiar sensation in his groin. He couldn't figure out why he got stiff whenever he thought about the knight, or being naked, or... He was glad he was hidden in his breeches. He'd bedded women, of course. Well, whores. He couldn't very well look for a maiden to love him in his profession, now could he? So he'd used his profession to get what he desired. He paid. But he'd never gotten much satisfaction from it. He'd assumed that the money aspect had been what was causing the trouble, so he'd stopped wasting his money. He'd taken matters in his own hand, when necessary, and he would have to wait for retirement for a wife. But now, strange feelings had come over him. He didn't know what they meant. And they weren't his biggest problem at the moment, either. Ah, here that comes now. Sir Madoc had finished. He, too, had remained in his smallclothes throughout the bath and now his cloth was see-through. Unless his eyes deceived him, Thom saw that the knight was well hung and stiff as a log as well! So perhaps it was nothing. Thom had not spent a good deal of time in the company of others that often. Maybe all these feelings were just normal. Sir Madoc used a small cloth to dry off, and changed his smallclothes (facing away from Thom as he did so). He dressed again and began to gather wood for a fire. Once that was built, the knight turned his attentions to his captive once again. He undid the knot on the far side of the tree and gathered the two free ends on Thom's side of the tree. "Swing your legs up to the branch and lie face down on top of it. I'm going to tie you down for the night." With Sir Madoc's help, Thom did as he was told. Once everything was arranged so that there was no slack in the rope, Sir Madoc bound Thom's bare feet to the end of the branch. In this condition, Thom was expected to sleep. Once the fire died down, Sir Madoc settled in for the night as well. He slept fitfully, Thom noticed. He hoped his captor wasn't going to be cranky in the morning. | ||
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