Tribal Relations

A/N - this was (mostly) written on a plane above the Atlantic. (And proofread while severely jetlagged, so apologies for any mistakes) The thought of writing man-sex while on a crowded plane makes me giggle.

Fromthedeepsea: Oh yes, something happens *evil grin* But...what did I misspell? I am happy to have any mistakes pointed out to me, but you need to tell me where they are so I can fix them :p

Hope you all enjoy it!
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 6

Keil sighed as Grael left for the day. His limp was gone – or at least as much so as it would ever be. Unfortunately, due to where the wound had hit, and Keil's less than expert medicinal skills, that leg would always be weaker. Still, he could now hunt again, and except for when he pushed himself, it probably wouldn't affect him too much normally. Today was only his fourth day back out, and they had decided that Keil would wait a full week before he left. The hunter had thought that Keil was being far too paranoid, but he had argued that not only would he be solely dependent on himself after he had left, but in case there was any repercussions from the tribe, the hunter would need to be at his best. Half-healed was not his best. Grael had grudgingly conceded the point, aggravated at his weakness, but acknowledging the logic in Keil's plan.

It wasn't the first argument they had over that subject either; Grael had wanted to start hunting weeks ago, but Keil had thought it was a bad idea to go so far from the village. They had decided on a compromise (or Keil had decided and the older man had been bullied into accepting) - Grael would check the traps each day when Keil went down to the river. That way, if his leg went out, Keil would be able to come help him back. It had happened a few times; Grael had left in the morning, and when Keil stopped by the clearing on his way back from washing he was either sitting on the ground or leaning on a tree, clearly in pain. He could see how much his disability bothered the hunter, and Keil made sure to comment on how well he was healing, and stress the temporary nature of their current arrangement. The healing had taken longer than either of them expected, and Keil had gotten more than enough time to finish the bow, especially since the last few weeks he had been able to bring it to the hut and work on it there, for as long as he wanted.

Grael had been unsurprised when he had brought it back with him the morning after the hunter had agreed to let him leave. The first thing he had done was to check over it, and make sure there weren't any weaknesses in the wood. Keil was acutely embarrassed at the hunter's easy praise of his work, especially with his lack of supplies. Now, after eating and before going to bed, they would work on it together, and with the two of them working as a team it was coming out quite well. Keil thought he might actually continue to use it even once he got back to his own tribe. It would certainly give him quite a bit of satisfaction to use something that he had made, almost completely by himself, from scratch. The bow would certainly have a great deal of sentimental value as well, and it would be something to remember the hunter by. They had also made a more than respectable quantity of arrows, and they had even managed to make a quiver between the two of them. It was fairly laughable, but it was at least functional.

He had to admit to himself, if the entire time had been like the last couple of weeks, and if he had the option of hunting (and not having the rest of the tribe thinking he was a woman) he would have probably begged Grael to stay. The way they worked together was like they had been partnered for years instead of months and Grael was also the only one who had ever treated him even close to an equal. His brother had cared for him, sure, more than anyone else in the tribe, but it was still obvious that Crele thought he was a child to be protected, and would probably always be in need of protection. And to be fair, the only time he wasn't treated equally by Grael was in bed, and he had no desire to change those arrangements. This would be the last time he would ever have the luxury of submitting without shame, and he planned on enjoying it.

The first night after Grael had gone hunting had been a particularly memorable time. It had been late in the day when Grael returned, and Keil had been far too worried over him. He had taken to pacing the hut, mad at himself for agreeing that the hunter would be okay to start hunting again. Keil had decided that if it got to dark, and Grael still wasn't back, he would risk going out after him. He didn't know this area of the woods, but thinking of Grael lying out in the woods somewhere, in pain, was more than enough motivation. Luckily, it hadn't gotten to that; Grael had returned, with a huge buck and an even bigger smile. The limp was more pronounced that it had been in a while, but the hunter assured him that it didn't hurt; it was just the stress of walking all day. Keil had grudgingly accepted his explanation, and they had worked together on dinner.

Afterwards, the hunter's mood hadn't seemed to dim any, and instead of working on more arrows for the bow, the older man had dragged Keil straight to bed, stripping him down with a ferocity that Keil hadn't seen before. Keil had quickly turned around, unable to control the rapid beat of his heart, or his body's response. Even though it was only the thrill of the hunt, Keil couldn't help but think it seemed like the hunter actually wanted him; not just because he was the only body available, but because he was Keil. Before Grael could read any of that on his face, however, he turned and knelt on the furs.

Grael had taken his time, his fingers stroking along his ass and inside of him, bringing him to orgasm before the hunter had even entered him. A few months ago, Keil would have been disgusted with himself for the way he was acting. The very first touch of Grael's fingers had him pushing back, wanting to feel any part of the hunter in his body. He moaned, and begged, and panted, and through it all Grael continued to torment him in the most pleasant way. Finally, just as Keil was reaching orgasm a second time, he felt the fingers leave him, and the tip of Grael's cock touch his entrance. He tried to push back, to get that thickness into him, but Grael kept a firm grip on his hips, and slowly eased himself in.

Both men had groaned at the sensation, and as Grael had pushed in until he was fully seated, the slight brush over that sensitive spot inside him had him releasing for a second time. Grael's grip had tightened, and the hunter bit down on his shoulder as Keil's body clenched around him. They had remained motionless for a few moments, as Keil's high passed, but once his breathing had evened out, Grael resumed thrusting.

To his surprise, Keil had found his body responding yet again. It was slow, given that he had already reached his peak twice already, but as the pace picked up, his cock gradually rose. Grael, however, had seemed to want to show off just how well he was feeling and the brutal pace had continued for some time. Keil thought he was going to have to start begging again as the pace was driving him crazy, but Grael as always seemed to sense he was coming to the end of his endurance, and his pace picked up into a frenzied rut. The slap of flesh on flesh nearly drowned out Keil's constant moans. Keil felt Grael stiffen and lose his rhythm, as the first of his seed hit his inside walls. A few strokes on his own cock had Keil shooting for a third time, and slumping boneless into the soaked furs. He had known he'd be sticky in the morning, but he felt so languid and sated he couldn't bring himself to care.

He had vague recollections of Grael lifting him up and removing the messy fur, and then soft touches cleaning him of sweat and seed, but now he wasn't sure if that had happened, or if he had already been asleep. Keil was afraid to ask.

But even when thinking of that one night, he had to remind himself that there was no more logical reason for him to stay, yet some part of him was searching for a reason to. While he still despised being cooped up in a hut all day, and that he couldn't hunt, and the restrictive clothing...part of him whispered it was worth it to have Grael come home to him each night, to wake up in his arms each morning. But he couldn't stay for those reasons. After all, the man simply took him because there wasn't another option. Keil was obviously listening too much to his fairy tales of love and equal relationships.

And once Keil left – Grael probably wouldn't be long behind him. He had a hard enough time now; once they figured out his 'woman' was gone, there would be even more scorn. At least Keil could feel a bit better in that he had finally given the hunter motivation to leave the tribe that despised him. With both of them trapped in the hut, Grael had told him some of the stories that his mother had passed on to him, places and people they had seen while travelling. The longing in the hunter's voice was obvious, and Keil almost wished he had the courage to do something like that. But given what happened in just the two weeks away from his own tribe he didn't think breaking off all ties and trying the wanderer lifestyle would be a wise choice. He would probably end up dead within the month. The chances of finding someone like Grael a second time if he found himself in a tight spot were slim.

No; first he would go back to his own tribe, and see where things stood. They had probably considered him dead already. The fact that he would make it back alive, after so long, would give him more respect than if he had simply failed and been dragged home by a senior hunter. They would probably laugh at him for taking so long to return, but it couldn't be that bad. It certainly couldn't be worse than it was before he had left. And in just another eight months or so, he'd be able to attempt his trial again. This time, he would be sure to pass; he'd have to figure out how to get back from here, after all. If he could do that, two weeks out from the village would be easy.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The sounds of fighting intruded into his thoughts, and the warrior's instincts he had forcibly suppressed resurfaced in a rush. Curiosity overcame common sense, and he stuck his head out of the hut. If it looked like the attacking tribe had a chance of winning, Keil would have to make a decision on whether to stay and fight or take the chance and run. The bow was ready and waiting and he could use one of Grael's loincloths. If he was going to die, he was dying in men's clothing. However, his decision was taken away from him once he saw the attackers. Keil was shocked to see the warriors of his own tribe, and hurriedly ducked back inside, ready to panic. Why had they come here? It couldn't be for him, and the thought of them conquering this tribe and finding him amongst the 'spoils' made him feel nauseous. Then he realized that Grael would be out there fighting, and his blood ran cold. He was worried about Grael's ability to fight when he was still weakened from his injury. What if something happened to him? Logically, Keil was worried what would happen if his protector was killed, but the ache in his chest at the thought of life without Grael betrayed his real feelings. Taking a deep breath to calm his thoughts, he made for the trunk with the hunter's possessions; he had to at least get out of this damned dress.

Unfortunately he hadn't been quick enough, and he heard the one voice he dreaded seeing him like this more than anything.

"Keil!" His brother burst into the hut, covered in blood and sweat, "Gods, Keil, we thought you were dead." He embraced his little brother, then pulled away and looked down at him. "Um...what are you wearing?"

This was it; he wanted to die. Couldn't the ground open up and pull him in? He had heard of it happening before...His voice barely over a whisper, he explained. "They caught me in the woods. I guess I got too close to their village. The hunters thought I was a woman, and I was ...given to one of them."

Crele looked at him, confused. "How did they mistake you for a woman? I know you have a slight build, but you are lacking in certain...aspects."

Keil sighed. At least his brother was willing to listen to his side though. "Derk – he thought it would be funny if I spent my manhood trial wearing a dress and with a cooking knife."

His brother growled, and pulled him back into a hug. "I knew there was something wrong when he laughed every time he saw me. We'll take you home, get you patched up. There's nothing to stop you from taking it again right away. That stunt Derk pulled makes the first one invalid. This time I'll go with whoever takes you out to make sure you're given a fair trial. We've got the warriors that are still alive tied up; if the one who kept you is still among the living we'll make sure he's killed for it. No one insults a member of our tribe like that."

"NO!" Crele looked down at him, startled at the outburst. Keil realized that he needed to be very careful here, or both he and Grael would both be killed. No matter what the warriors of his tribe thought of him, what happened to him was considered an offence to the tribe, especially since he was still considered a child. "He didn't do anything to harm me – yea, I had to stay in here and dress like a woman, but he said that the punishment for dressing or acting like a woman would be death, and I didn't really want to risk that he was lying. Other than having to stay in here, he was actually nice – we spent most of the time talking about hunting. He was even helping me make a bow so I could get home. It's the ones that actually caught me that should be punished."

The hunter grimaced and nodded, "Fine, we'll make sure he's not hurt, as soon as I find out if he was lying to you. If he was, he gets killed, same with the ones that caught you." He released Keil and dug around in the chest until he came out with a loincloth which he tore down to fit around Keil's waist. The boy gave a relieved sigh, grateful to get out of the dress. They both walked out of the hut, and it was with some relief that he noticed that the warriors were all gagged. He noticed women sticking their heads out of the huts, but he wasn't worried about them talking – they looked far too concerned over whether their men were living or dead. Perhaps he could get out of this without anyone knowing he had actually been taken.

"Who captured my brother? " The first hunter that had captured him he had noticed was lying dead in the middle of the village; and Keil pointed him out to him brother with a grim sense of satisfaction. Crele nodded then turned back to the assembled villagers. "That's one; was there anyone else involved in the capture of my brother?"

One of the other two was still alive - he didn't see the corpse of the third, but it was possible he had fallen somewhere else - and Keil pointed him out. He was un-gagged, and his brother grabbed him by his neck and lifted him up. Keil watched slightly enviously; it would be nice to have that sort of brute strength. "Why did you take him? Did you not notice the marks of our tribe?"

The man sneered at the boy. "We saw an unaccompanied woman; she was fair game. She was well into our land; less than a day away from the village. You can't say we raided you. And Grael seemed to enjoy her enough."

Crele remained composed, though Keil knew him well enough to know he was seconds away from ripping the man apart, but outwardly ignored the comments against his kin. "And when you realized he was male?"

The man laughed. "We never did, that's how good of a woman she makes. And we would have been happy to help her with that had she wanted it. Such a disgrace to a tribe has no business being called a man. It's no wonder you wanted her gone. If we had known the truth, you can be sure we wouldn't have sheltered such an abomination."

That was enough for Keil's brother, and his hand tightened around the man's throat. He gurgled out his last breaths, and finally went limp in the warrior's grasp. The body was tossed to the side, and Crele looked over the remaining warriors. They were looking between Crele and the body, obviously upset. "Who is Grael?"

The hunter lifted his head in response, and Keil had to give him credit – he probably thought his fate would be the same as the first hunter's. Still, he held himself with pride, and Keil was saddened that this would be the last time he would see the man. The least he could do was make sure Grael got out of here alive.

Crele walked over, and removed his gag a lot gentler than he had the first man's. "And what was your reason in keeping my brother?"

Grael shrugged. "Nothing. I realized right away that he wasn't a woman, obviously, but I kept him in my hut anyway for his own good. You heard what Mika said. I didn't and won't do anything to stop you taking him back where he belongs." The last bit was a slight lie, as he had indeed stopped him from getting away at first, but Keil wasn't about to call him on it now, not when it meant his life.

The warrior nodded, apparently satisfied, and Keil let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Let's go."

The warriors of Keil's tribe gathered up their dead, and the weapons of their defeated enemies. The warriors of the tribe he had spent the last year with were left tied and gagged with the exception of Grael, who Crele left un-gagged. Keil snuck over to the warrior, and smiled as he undid his bonds. He leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Thank you for protecting me."

Grael didn't say anything, just watched Keil with an indecipherable look on his face. Unnerved, the boy finally turned to where his brother was waiting for him. He had a frown on his face as he watched Keil interact with the other hunter, but didn't say anything. Crele may have been kinder to his brother, but that was as far as his consideration extended. If he for one second thought that Keil had actually submitted, Keil would be disowned just as fast as any other member of the tribe.

Before they left, Keil went back to the hut and gathered the bow and arrows, along with the misshapen quiver, and strung them on his back. The weight felt familiar and right; and he felt himself impatient for a chance to actually use the bow he and Grael had worked so hard on.

The tribe was waiting for him, most of them not meeting his eye, and obviously anxious to be gone. They headed out of the village, melting into the trees. Keil felt relieved to be back out in the woods, and dressed properly, but he couldn't help feeling sad that he would never see those icy blue eyes again. There was part of him that wanted to at least look back, to see if Grael was watching him leave, or even run back and stay with him or drag him along. But those were foolish ideas, and he kept himself looking forward. He shrugged off those dangerous thoughts – it was time to start thinking like a man again.