Elf Boy's Friends - I

by George Gauthier

Chapter 7


The four youths attended the council of war the next day. Drew had permission to take notes on the understanding that he would run the text of his articles by the press officer. A formality really. Their enemies, the centaurs did not take the Capital Intelligencer. As far as anyone knew, they were illiterate.

Before the meeting got called to order, the four of them chatted over in a corner. For the occasion, Drew came in the outfit he would wear on campaign: short trews which reached to mid-thigh and a sleeveless shirt slashed all the way at the sides, both made of dark green silk plus a pair of the same hobnailed sandals that the infantry wore. He explained:

"These are for when I march with you guys and the giants. For when I ride with the cavalry I have a pair of short boots with thick heels that fit more securely in the stirrups than a flat sole. Gives a more secure seat."

"All well and good." Artor said, "Now don't take this the wrong way, Drew, but how can you protect yourself, a little fellow like you, no offense. I mean, I can throw fire and the twins are deadly with their bows and kukris, and Finn has a sword and that twelve foot spear of his."

"With these." Drew replied, holding out a pair of steel balls about the size of a peach. "My magical gift is Fetching."

"Just like with Arik!"

"That's right, Jemsen. I have been practicing a technique I developed. Now Arik's poisoned arrowheads work well against most foes but maybe not centaurs. Their constitutions are so alien, who knows what poisons affect those creatures? Besides my spheres, I carry darts coated with a non-lethal drug to knock out my target: one for a man or several darts for larger targets. The steel balls are for when something needs killing or I want to smash down doors, break locks, or get through shields, that sort of thing."

"So you just Throw the steel balls at your target."

"No, I don't just Throw and let them go. I keep control of the movement of the steel ball at all times, keeping it under power as it were, moving it back and forth, left and right, up and down, as the ball smashes its way through the target. With my level of power I can lift a boulder off the ground without strain. That amount of force applied to a small steel ball makes it travel incredibly fast generating devastating momentum. By the time I finished, the carcasses of the dead cattle I had practiced on were so badly torn up their meat was unusable."

"I can only imagine."

"By the way," Finn added, "Nice outfit, very practical on campaign."

"Oh, I don't know," Karel ventured. "Jemsen and I were kinda hoped he would fight bare-ass naked the way we do. For purely tactical reasons, of course" he added, tongue in cheek, explaining that sweaty nude bodies were slippery and hard to hold on to while clothing, belts, and straps afforded grab holds to adversaries.

"Ha, ha. Don't worry guys, you'll get plenty of chances to see me in the nude, close up and personal, if you take my meaning."

"That's much better."

"Another one then!" Artor said, rolling his eyes. "It's a wonder that the sentient races on this planet of ours don't die out from failure to reproduce! Not that I am being critical of you personally. I know that sexual orientation is not a conscious choice; it is a discovery we make about ourselves at puberty and sometimes later. Well, except for elves whose same gender orientation is their hereditary destiny. Still, have you even tried girls, Drew?"

"As a matter of fact I have, but it felt all wrong. I realized then that I was one of those who was made for boys, and boys were made for me."

"Good answer," the twins enthused in unison.

"So did you choose your campaign outfit for practical reasons or are you body shy."

"Body shy? Hardly! At home when I am not on assignment I prance around the capital with nary a stitch, not even one of those genital pouches that I am now old enough to wear. I am seventeen going on eighteen, though I look a year or two younger because of my small stature."

"On assignment I always dress up in a tunic or something of that sort. Not from modesty of course. When I am working on a story, I don't want my physical beauty to distract my interlocutors. More importantly clothing helps me get taken more seriously by those I talk to. Adults would not grant me an interview if they thought I was just another underage bare-assed kid butting into the business of grown ups."

"I mean, with one glance at my slight build and impossibly pretty features macho males mark me down as the worst sort of bum boy. Not just someone who submits from force of circumstance, but a natural submissive who prefers the role of catamite or boy toy. I can hardly deny that I look like one. If that makes me seem less than manly, then so be it. I like my look just fine and am not the least bit interested in "manning up". All in all I enjoy being a sexy boy-toy, but it does have that down side."

The twins nodded. "We ourselves normally run around 'skin-clad' like our friends the elves, but we wrap a sarong around our hips for formal occasions like this dinner, wear silk trews when up on a horse to prevent chafing, or throw a hooded camouflage cloak over our shoulders while working as army scouts. Otherwise we go around unshod and unclothed. We made the whole Long March in the rude nude."

"I envy you. I have never been publicly naked for months at a stretch like you guys. If only..."

"A bit of an exhibitionist are you then, Drew?"

"Guilty as charged. Gosh, does that make me a bad person?" he asked rhetorically, tapping his breast with his fist in mock self reproach.

"Anyway, when I do put on clothing, it is not just about my slight physique. When I run around in the nude folks can see that I am uniformly bronzed from habitual nudity, the mark of a boy still too young for clothing. With my wiry physique and delicate features, my appearance is androgynous rather than masculine. I fall far short of normal male standards in height, muscular development, and manly characteristics like beard and body hair. As short as I am, as fine-boned, and impossibly comely, they won't take me seriously as a male. Many take me for a rent boy."

"Been there; done that." the twins chorused with a grin.


Jemsen explained how the two of them and Dahl and Aodh had sold their charms to finance their first journey across the continent. Some years later he asked Balandur why the giant hadn't just paid for everything out of his purse. Not only was he rich, he was well compensated as a Dread Hand of the Commonwealth, to give him his full title. He said that he wanted his proteges to bond, the younglings, being all in the same boat, as it were, without coin or a stitch to wear for that matter. When life gets down to basics, well it shows what sort of person you were. Merry was in on it too."

"All of you? Heroes famous across the continent: the druid Dahlderon, Sir Aodh of LLangollen, and Sirs Jemsen and Karel, Holders of the Military Cross for Valor, elf-friends, dwarf-friends, and now giant-friends too. Rent boys. Wow!"

"By the way guys, I will need to interview all three of you about the Long March of the Frost Giants. Finn too. You see, not only will I be posting stories about the campaign from this point on, but I will pen features about what lead up to today: Finn's mission, the peace talks, the Long March, the call for volunteers, the new town, etc. We owe it to posterity. Journalism is the first draft of history, as the saying goes."

Over the next week, the giants resupplied, regrouped and reordered their forces, enlisting enough fighters from among the emigrants to nearly double their little army to fourteen hundred. Some of the younger ones went courting among the emigrants, able to look presentable to potential mates thanks to a supply of eleven depilatories.

The remaining giants, including most of the women and the few youngsters would sojourn at the townsite till they could safely enter the land of the centaurs. The plan was to sweep the entire country, kill the great majority of the centaurs, then find a promising site for an army fort and a civilian town which would both be protected by palisades.

In the meanwhile, the twins and Drew got better acquainted. Very well acquainted indeed. The twins took things one step at a time. Enticing Drew into a threesome would not be on the agenda for some time to come. The twins might look nearly his age but they were in their mid-twenties with so much more life experience than any seventeen year old kid could possibly have. Karel won the toss of the coin. Between them the brothers made a bet how long it would take for Drew to tell them apart by their lovemaking technique or by just their appearance.

For his part Drew was so glad to have the twins take him to their bed. He had tried females and found that it was so much better making love to a boy. Girls are soft and round and jiggly. Boys have hard bodies, all muscle and bone and sinew. Nothing is better than to wrestle a boy in bed, grappling with his strong body, so much like your own, to join with him in a passionate embrace (which is artsy talk for a hard fuck).

Also a boy gives head so much better than a girl. He knows cock better than any female ever could. Drew looked so damn cute when he knelt in front of a twin, all submissive like, hands along his flanks, using just his tongue and his lips on the cock of the male he was worshiping. Or vice-versa; the twins were versatile and did not mind switching roles.

Drew never had to work to arouse either of the twins down there. With him their cocks sprang into action, hard even as the young auburn-haired beauty sank to his knees. Drew always started with a kiss on the head of the cock he was servicing, a light peck at first, then a smooch. Then his tongue went to work, twirling around the glans, poking the tip into the piss slit, tapping the knob with little flicks with the tip of his own tongue, often targeting the sweet spot. Karel liked him to open his mouth and take just the head in and let it rest there for a minute, to let it get used to the sensations of moisture and warmth, to let the shaft feel his pouty lips close around it possessively, proprietarily. Jemsen liked to slip further back sooner than his twin, but he never forced the pace.

Then Finn joined the fun. The young giant was huge compared to the twins and even more so compared to the diminutive journalist. The young giant liked to make love standing on his feet. With Drew's legs bent upward, Finn lifted the boy high enough for Drew to throw his ankles over Finn's shoulders while the back of his thighs were pressed to Finn's chest. The giant supported most of Drew's slight weight on his arms -- at least till he got the boy settled on his cock. Slipping it inside was awkward since Drew couldn't easily reach back there. They took it slowly and carefully.

For such a big guy Finn was a gentle though energetic lover. He did not batter his way inside but let Drew set the pace and the degree of penetration as well as do much of the work himself, lifting his body, letting it fall back onto the cock inside him, basically fucking himself, though Finn helped with his big hands under his buttocks raising and lowering Drew bodily.

When he had Drew down on all fours and covered the boy like a stallion does a filly, Finn's hand played with Drew's own cock, stroking and pumping and sliding the foreskin back and forth, thumbing its sweet spot, making the smaller male shudder with desire until he came explosively, which set Finn to coming in a chain reaction as the muscles of his quim contracted spasmodically, squeezing the cock that was inside him and sending its owner into orgasm as well.

At a barbecue the afternoon before the kickoff of the military campaign, harking back to what the had talked about the day they all met Finn asked about Artor's own love life.

"As my father's heir I must eventually marry and perpetuate our family bloodline, though I have not yet taken any real steps toward toward that end."

"But aren't you, as the heir, supposed to engender an heir and a spare of your own" Finn asked pointedly.

"OK. You got me. The reason I am not looking for a bride right now is that my father gave me a pass on doing what he had done in his youth. My parents' was an arranged marriage designed to perpetuate both their considerable degree of elven blood for my generation and to pass on the gift of firecasting. My mother, though not a firecaster herself except in a very minor way, enough to light candles or a kitchen fire, could pass on to her offspring the propensity to manifest that gift."

"As it turned out, their marriage was doubly successful. First they had kids very quickly. Humans and elves often find it difficult to conceive, and that applies to hybrids like my folks. As it happened, my mother conceived far quicker than anyone expected and she did it twice. The second success was that their arranged marriage turned into a real love match. They made each other very happy. Until her accident of course."

"So now I am free to live the unconstrained life of a bachelor and play the field. My brother will likely marry before I do though he too is in no hurry. We both have centuries before us. Why act hastily and perhaps find ourselves partnered with a lady who is jealous of other attachments? What is it with women anyway that they cannot understand that males not only crave but need variety. Once you are married, once they get their hooks into you, they label a spouse who lies with another a cheat. Cheating? Really? Marriage is not a game of cards. What nonsense."

"Yours is the cry of aggrieved males down the ages. Artor, let me tell you the story of my great-uncle Sven and his encounter with a harridan of just that persuasion. Not his wife, I hasten to add, a fine lady who was secure in his affections despite the roving eye for which he was well-known. One feast day, it was only early evening but the mead had flowed freely, pitchers of it passed from trestle table to trestle table, this lady, let's call her Lady Aster, got on Sven's case. She harangued him for quite some while till Sven, exasperated that she was spoiling his holiday, told her to keep her wrong-headed notions to herself. A man who spread his favors widely, he maintained was just being generous, doubly so with someone like himself who did not discriminate between the genders.

"Is that what you call chronic philandering -- generosity!"

"I do. I am also of the opinion that women who insist on fidelity and exclusivity are just being selfish."

"By that point Lady Aster was so angry she was nearly apoplectic, much to the amusement of Sven and his loyal wife too. Drawing herself up to her haughtiest, Lady Aster gave Sven a withering look and declared:

"Sven Aldrson. Were I your wife, I should put poison in your kaffay."

"Without missing a beat Sven gave back: 'Madame, were I your husband, I would drink it!'"

That broke everyone up, both those present on the fateful day and those listening years later to Finn's recital of the tale of his great-uncle's triumph.

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