Previous part of Stokes, Sanders and the Lost Tribe of Samartia.

***


TRUSSED


Nick could feel Greg reaching for him, his hand searching blindly in the darkness. He leaned in to him, and his eyes were shielded enough from the glare that he could see Greg, his eyes wide and his mouth set grimly with concern.

Nick caught a frightening flash of the white of his eyes as they rolled back into his head and he slumped forward. One of the warriors stood behind him, her club resting by her thigh, a smear of Greg's blood upon it.

Nick cried out Greg's name as his head lolled against Nick's chest. His hand gingerly cupped the back of Greg's neck while he felt for wounds with the other. The tips of his fingers came away bloody, and fear coursed through him.

A pile of their clothes flew towards him and slapped against his skin. One of the warriors bent down, her breasts swaying freely close to his face.

"Dress!" she commanded autocratically.

His fear temporarily replaced by shock, Nick asked, "You speak English?"

"No, I don't!" The blonde woman thumped her spear imperiously in the dirt. "Dress now!"

The whole scene had become very surreal, and although Greg's shame was currently covered by the clothing the warrior had thrown at them, Nick felt very vulnerable.

The blonde, who seemed to be the leader, shouted her command again and this time pressed her spear against Greg's neck as an impetus for Nick to do as she said.

Nick laid Greg gently down on the dirt floor, and sorted through the clothes until he found his pants. His drawers were still inside them, so he pulled them both on together while still sitting on the ground. As he lifted his butt slightly to pull them up to his hips, his cock rolled into view and Nick was both astounded and embarrassed by the laughter that erupted from the warriors watching him without any thought for his dignity. He quickly zipped himself up and pulled his shirt back on.

The blonde thumped her spear again, mercifully withdrawing it from Greg's neck. "Dress him!"

"How do you know English?" Nick asked as he arranged Greg's limbs and pulled his drawers, and then his pants up his legs. Once again, there were giggles, this time when Greg's cock lay exposed. Nick dressed him as quickly as he could, manipulating him as if he were a broken doll, pushing away the terrifying thought as soon as it occurred to him.

The blonde ignored his question.

Nick decided not to bother with their boots, he just tied their laces together and then swung them around their respective necks. He lifted Greg back up to cradle his head in his lap. The flow of blood had become more sluggish, and was starting to congeal. He hoped that Greg was okay and wished desperately that he could do something to protect him.

The other tribe members looked to the blonde for instructions. She muttered something which sounded to Nick like a strange mix of Polish and Iranian. Greg moaned and stirred groggily, but his eyes remained closed. Nick checked his pulse, relieved to find that it was still normal.

Four women converged on him, pulling his arms behind his back and dragging him across the dirt. Greg fell out of his lap and his head hit the ground again with a thud that made Nick wince for him. Nick tried to scrabble back towards him, but he was no match for the strength of four exceptionally powerful Amazons. They bound his hands behind him, and effortlessly subdued him when he tried desperately to kick at them as they tied his feet together.

Like Greg, he didn't even see the blunt weapon that struck him; and he too fell into darkness.




It was motion that first brought Greg back to awareness.

Feeling as if he was back in the hammock at Morela's village, he instantly knew that must be impossible. He could tell without even opening his eyes that whatever was about to happen would not be as pleasant an experience, as his last coherent memory was that of being stomped on by a large group of savage warriors and then being ruthlessly clubbed over the head.

Nick!

He opened his eyes immediately, and winced at the bright light of the sun sent shockwaves hurtling through his sockets and into the base of his brain. The world around him was shaking violently, and the motion made him turn his head and vomit.

"Greg!"

He couldn't see him, but relief coursed through him at the sound of Nick's voice. "Nick! Are you okay?"

"Yes, are you?"

"I've been better."

"Silence!" he heard a woman cry.

"No!" Nick yelled defiantly. "Greg, how badly are you hurt?"

"Make the women angry, Nick, and I may just get hit again and have a trifecta," he said, trying to smile so it sounded in his voice.

It didn't seem to calm Nick, however. "I heard you puke your guts up."

"Geez, Nick, let's discuss my bodily fluids in the company of ladies!"

"But, Greg—"

"I said, silence!" the woman's voice came again.

Greg heard Nick cry out in pain, and he swung as he struggled to free himself, becoming aware that the pain in his arms and legs was due to the fact that he was being carried like a pig on a roasting spit by two warriors. I did have to bring up cannibalism the other day, he thought to himself ruefully.

Swinging didn't increase the span of his viewpoint by much, but he could see two bare feet trussed up behind him, which he recognized as Nick's.

"Nick, are you okay?" he yelled.

"Yes," Nick said. "Greg, shut up. You don't need another—"

He cried out again.

"Hey!" Greg yelled. "Hey, Jungle Goddess! Leave him alone!"

"Quiet!"

He could hear her, but not see her.

"Oh, yeah? Come and make me!"

The sound of her feet pounding against the jungle floor made him try to scrabble further up his pole, but he couldn't budge, and there was nowhere to go anyhow.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit!"

"Greg, I told you to shut up!"

"You know I'm too independent to listen!"

Their captor loomed over them, her blonde hair long and swaying with each movement as she walked beside him, hunched over, her naked breasts close to his face.

"Ugh! Put those things away!" Greg protested.

The woman burst into a tirade, which he could not make head or tail of. Her companions stopped moving, and the pair behind Greg's convoy continued and rested beside them. Greg was relieved to see Nick, a small line of fresh blood running from his temple but looking relatively unscathed.

"Can you understand what they're saying?" Greg muttered out of the corner of his mouth, as the woman continued to yell, occasionally getting answers from her soldiers.

"Parts," Nick admitted, coloring visibly. "Most of their language is an old variant of Polish, but there are some Iranian words that slip in every now and again."

"Polish and Iranian?" Greg asked.

"I think these are the Samartians, Greg."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Really, Nick? What clued you in?"

"Hey, don't be sarcastic."

"Well, I wasn't hit on the head that hard. Were you?"

Nick didn't answer, he just looked up at the sky as if wishing he were anywhere but here.

"So what is she saying?"

Nick looked as if he didn't want to answer, but he reluctantly did so. "Basically that she has nothing to be modest about when she wasn't the one rutting like a pig on the jungle floor."

Greg's mouth dropped open. "Rutting... like a pig?"

The women stopped talking, laughing at his obvious reaction. One of them bent down and patted him on the cheek as if with affection, the swell of her breast grazing his cheek. Nick seethed with jealousy.

The warrior taunted them, making exaggerated snuffling noises. Greg moaned with embarrassment and closed his eyes.

"Nick," he pleaded, "I didn't sound like that, did I?"

Despite everything, Nick couldn't help but be amused. "No, you sounded very sexy to me."

"Well, that's all that matters then, isn't it?"

"Oh, by the way, I think they understand English."

"Doesn't anybody in the Amazon speak a native tongue?" Greg asked, exasperated.

The blonde woman appeared by him again, and crouched down. "I would be quiet if I were you. Your tongue is so big and wags so much it would make a meal for the whole tribe."

Nick sniggered to himself. "It didn't take them long to figure that out."

"Hey, you're meant to be on my side!"

The women started off again, and both men began swaying on their poles with the movement.

"Hey, Nick?"

"Yeah, Greg?"

"Do you have a plan?"

"Not really. Do you?"

"No."

"Oh."

"So, that's that, then," Greg sighed. "At least we got to rut like pigs once, I suppose."

There was a snort from the general area where Nick was hanging.

"Mind you," Greg mused. "It would have been nice to also go back home, and flirt over martinis and Gershwin."

"Hey, we had a night with Morela and the drums."

The blonde appeared again, her spear held at the ready. "Morela? Morela?"

Greg strained to see her hovering over Nick threateningly.

"Yes, Morela," Nick nodded, trying to suck in his belly to get it away from the spearhead pressing into his skin.

She waved her spear wildly, yelling out something incomprehensible. This time speed was apparently of the essence as the women began to run. Greg moaned and wished he had dramamine as he was bounced along helplessly.

When he opened his eyes again, he was shocked to find they had reached their destination. Surveying his surroundings, he could make out well-concealed huts, camouflaged with jungle scrub and growth. They were carried to the entrance of a cave, which had a fine curtain of lush vines concealing it. He was relieved when Nick was brought up alongside him.

"You okay?" he asked weakly.

Nick nodded. "You?"

"Can't complain."

A graceful hand parted the curtain, and a tall woman with dark hair stepped out into the sunlight. She smiled, although it was hard to guess what the smile conveyed as her eyes were guarded, and a noticeable gap between her front teeth was revealed.

But the sunlight caught the jewelry in her hair, flashing brilliantly on precious gemstones, and Nick and Greg gasped as they realized instantly what they were seeing.

"Nick! It's the Samartian Diadem!"




SARA AND SOFIA


This time it was Nick who felt like saying "Oh, really?" but he stopped himself in time. No need to hurt Greg's feelings when he was already captured and wounded.

Greg whistled appreciatively. "It's even better than it looked in the pictures."

"That was just an illustration, Greg. Of course it looks better in real life. How long have you been doing this job?"

"If I wasn't tied up right now, I would slug you one!" Greg yelled, irritably fighting against his bonds.

Nick began to struggle as well. "Come on, then!"

The brunette stared down upon them, her lip curling with a mixture of amusement and aggravation. "These are men you found humping like animals in a cave?"

The blonde who they had assumed to be the leader stepped forward, and bowed her head in salute. "Yes."

"They're not very friendly with each other now."

"They are men, your majesty. They cannot help but fight. It is their nature."

"Hey!" Nick and Greg protested in unison. They looked at each other, and both relaxed out of their defensive modes.

"You're royalty?" Nick asked, trying to get some background on their situation.

"Don't speak until spoken to, man!" The blonde spat the word, as if it were an insult, which to her it might well have been, looking as if she would happily rip out his throat for such a transgression.

"Sofia," the brunette warned.

Sofia looked downcast. "Yes, your majesty?"

The brunette motioned for her to come up the stairs and stand beside her. "You are home now, with me. You may take your place by me, as you should."

"Yes, Sara," Sofia breathed, and was rewarded with a passionate kiss as her queen moved her mouth against hers without reservation.

"Wow," Nick said, swallowing heavily.

Sara's hand moved down Sofia's smooth back and brought her in closer to deepen the kiss. Sofia arched her back and Sara lipped her way down to the hollow of her throat, leaving a trail of kisses.

"Would you be mad at me if I told you I find this unbelievably erotic?" Greg whispered to Nick.

Nick cleared his throat and finally tore his gaze away from the women to glare at him. "No more rutting for you if we get out of this."

"Hey, I can't help it!" Greg shrugged. "I am just a man."

"So am I, but I am trying to figure out how we can get out of this, rather than thinking of my dick," Nick protested weakly.

"Really?" Greg teased. "But it's such a nice dick."

Nick shook his head, despairing of Greg for approximately the one hundred and fifty-seventh time so far on this trip. "We're so screwed."

The two women on the steps above them finally separated, and Sofia tenderly stroked her queen's cheek. "Did I not do well?"

Sara looked down upon the two trophies that had been brought to her. "Very well."

She gracefully made her way down to the two men, and stood in the middle of them. "You have caused much trouble for my people. Why are you here?"

"Definitely not to steal your jewelry," Greg said immediately.

Sara's hands flew to her head and touched her crown. "Men! Always lusting after what they can't have!"

With a cheeky grin on his face, Greg jerked his head to acknowledge Sofia. "I guess you get that a lot, huh?"

Nick groaned.

Sara smiled. "True. You amuse me. You're like a puppy. Silly."

Nick laughed.

Greg looked downcast. "Yeah. I get that a lot."

Sara turned to Sofia. "Cut him down, and bring him to my cave."

Sofia glared at Greg, as if she would like to kill him on the spot.

"What is it?" Sara asked.

"Nothing, my Queen," Sofia said, obediently but sullenly moving to release Greg's bonds.

"Good. Now, do it."

"And what of the other one?"

Sara looked down at Nick, who was trying not to let the fear show on his face. "Hang him."

"No, please!" Greg yelled. "Can't he come to the cave as well?"

Sara shook her head, turned her back on the men and made her way back within her cave. Sofia unsheathed a knife from her hip, and began cutting at Greg's bonds. When Greg fell to the ground he scuttled over to Nick, but Sofia grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him back as if he was merely a bag of potatoes.

"Come, skinny."

Greg was too worried to even be insulted this time as he was pulled away from Nick, who still hung from his pole. Nick tried to communicate with his eyes, to tell him anything, even get across one last goodbye, but he knew that all he probably managed was to look as panicked as Greg did in that moment, each of them terrified for what fate would befall the other as they were separated. Nick watched as Greg was pushed into the cave, and then resigned himself to his fate as Sofia approached him one more time, her knife still at the ready.



At least it's not the fucking pygmies again, Nick Stokes thought as he hung by his ankles above the jungle floor, but this is still Greg Sanders' fault.

Greg fucking Sanders.

He willed time to stand still as he closed his eyes to recall the image of the other man as he had last seen him, his khaki shirt with the top two buttons undone, giving a tantalizing invitation to peek at the exposed skin he had already seen and delighted over and wanted to see again. How his brown eyes had flashed with fury and anxiety, and Nick had known with an ever-increasing sense of dread that he always wanted to look at those eyes, and have those eyes look upon him, but forces were working against them.

Then Greg had been taken away from him, led behind a curtain of foliage into a cave beyond, into almost certain doom. Before Nick had had the chance to cry out Greg's name, he had been cut free from his pole and he crashed heavily to the ground. And then his arms and legs had been bound again, new ropes stained with the blood from his previous wounds. Nick thrashed about, trying to release himself, but his arms were quickly secured in order to prevent him from doing so. He was trussed up, and ready for slaughter.

All he could see was the dense carpet of moss and soil below him as he was hoisted upwards to hang from the tree like some bizarre Christmas decoration. This was it. Nothing was going to save him now.

He closed his eyes, and hoped that their ends would come quickly.

Sofia had left him, presumably to return to the cave and help flay Greg. Nick could only guess that he would be next. The blood rushed to his head, and he felt faint. Helplessly, he twisted and struggled against his bonds in a last-ditch attempt to save himself, so he could go and save Greg. The ropes only seemed to tighten around his ankles.

Think, Stokes, think.

The sound of stealthy footsteps made him jerk even faster. The tree branch he was hanging from creaked ominously, giving him hope that he might be able to break it.

A hand reached up and steadied him.

Dread filling him, Nick lowered his head again to stare into the warm and friendly eyes of Morela.

"Morela!" he gasped. "Morela! Am I glad to see you! You've got to get me down from here, and we have to rescue Greg! He's in terrible danger!"




DA RAINHA


Morela nodded. "We will try. But when they see me, they may just kill me too."

"Not exactly filling me with confidence here," Nick muttered.

"Big words for man hanging upside down from tree," Morela said huffily.

"You're right," Nick said apologetically. "Please help me down."

Morela produced a knife concealed on her hip. She deftly cut him free, and Nick fell to the ground.

"You could have caught me!" he scowled, rubbing his head.

"No time."

She helped Nick to his feet, and they stared up at the concealed cave entrance.

"Where is everybody?" Nick asked.

Morela shrugged. "Probably in cave."

Nick took a step forward, but remembered something he wanted to forget so badly. He turned back to Morela. "I have to tell you something first. I'm so sorry, but Xanti..." he trailed off, unable to complete his sentence.

Morela stared off into the distance, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Xanti is dead."

Nick nodded. "We tried—"

"I saw his body."

"Morela—"

"We must get your Greg. Talk about Xanti later."

Nick nodded, noting that she wanted to bite down on her pain until she could cope with it better. "Do you have a plan?" he asked.

Morela nodded. "We knock."

"Are you crazy?" Nick blurted out.

"You have better plan?"

Nick slumped against her. "I don't have any plan."

"Then we knock." She dropped his arm, satisfied that he could move of his own volition.

They made their way up the stone steps, and paused before the curtain covering the cave. Nick looked at Morela, and she nodded. He parted the foliage and they stepped inside. Morela immediately pulled him to the left and into a little alcove that led into a crawlspace. He found himself wondering how she knew it was there, or whether she had just noticed it when they came through, but he didn't have much time to consider it as they crawled along through natural passages in the rock acting as portals, till they reached a natural hollow, pausing to stare into the main cave. They could hear voices droning ahead, and Nick broke into a relieved smile when he heard that one of them was Greg.

"He's alive!" he whispered to Morela.

"Crawl quicker," she grumped.

Presently they were staring upon a large open area, lit by torches. Nick was astounded by how much it looked like a boudoir for a comtesse rather than an Amazonian warrior's cave.

And there was Greg... lolling about on the bed in the center!

He was chatting easily to Sara and Sofia, who seemed to be enraptured by him. They looked like besotted teenage girls rather than fierce native warriors.

"...and it was my lucky gun! The very gun my Papa Olaf gave to me!"

Sara and Sofia clucked with disapproval, and Nick felt the fire of a thousand indignations ignite within him.

"He looks fine," Morela observed wryly, as Sofia poured Greg a drink.

"Doesn't he just?" Nick replied coldly.

"Escravo de sexo." Morela shook her head.

"What does that mean?" Nick asked, remembering that she had said that phrase before, but never explained.

"They want him for the sexing."

Nick paled. "What?" he demanded.

"You know, the sexing. They want him for the sexing. Probably you, too. But him first."

"Over my dead body!" Nick declared. "And over his, too!"

Morela shrugged. "That may happen."

"So," Greg was saying. "About my friend..."

"Later," Sara said grandly, adjusting the crown on her head.

Greg's eyes widened as the stones within the diadem twinkled in the torchlight. "It's very pretty."

"You like it?" Sara asked.

"Oh, yes, it's nice," Greg purred. "Can I try it on?"

"No!" Sara slapped his chest hard. "No man may touch it, on pain of death!"

Sofia glared at him. "And no man may touch her. But you may touch me."

Greg laughed. "Is that an invitation?"

"Oh, that's it!" Nick hissed from above.

"What are you doing?" Morela asked, grabbing at him as he leapt to his feet.

Nick tried to shrug her off, but she was strong. She only succeeded in making him lose his balance, and Nick fell through one of the portals to crash onto the dirt floor near the bed that Greg and the two warriors were resting upon.

Sara and Sofia armed themselves within an instant, and Greg cried out as they pressed their spears against Nick's flesh.

"How did you escape?" Sofia demanded.

Nick remained silent. Sofia flicked her spear, and a bright red gash appeared above his navel and made Nick grunt with pain as blood began to flow.

"Speak!" Sara commanded.

Greg scrabbled to Nick's side, and pressed himself between Nick and the spear. "No more!"

"Move, skinny!" Sofia yelled.

"No! You will not hurt him!"

"Enough!" cried a voice, familiar yet different. It was a voice filled with regality and strength; a voice that was used to issuing commands and having them obeyed without hesitation.

It was Morela. She stepped into the torchlight, her eyes dark and powerful. Nick and Greg were surprised by the change in her bearing, and even more surprised when Sofia and Sara suddenly dropped to their knees, bowing deeply before her.

"Morela da rainha!"

Even Greg didn't need that phrase to be translated for him. His mouth dropped open as he realized that only days before he had been visiting with the true Queen of the Samartians.

***



THE FORMER QUEEN OF THE SAMARTIANS


"You're their queen?" Greg finally asked, while Sofia and Sara remained in their position of obeisance.

"Former queen," Morela replied, her eyes flashing with amusement. "I'm retired now."

"Doesn't look very former," Greg said, pointing to the two women kneeling before her. He turned around to face Nick. "Are you okay?" He brushed his fingertips close to the wound, and Nick winced.

"Oh, don't worry about me, Sanders," Nick hissed. "Why don't you just get back into bed with the beautiful blonde?"

Greg stared at him. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, I saw it all, buddy! You needed a bucket to collect your drool."

"Because I was trying to rescue you, you dolt!"

"I would have thought rescue involved, oh, you know, storming the palace walls or something, or at least getting a knife and cutting me down! Not rolling around on a bed getting drunk with the people who hung me upside down by my heels!" Nick was so fired up that the pain from his wound was no longer plaguing him.

"I was trying to charm them into realizing we weren't dangerous, so that they would let you go!"

"That's not what it looked like!"

"Do I have to remind you that I just Pocahontas-ed your ass to save you from being stabbed?" Greg yelled.

Morela clapped her hands together. "Stop! You are both being stupid."

Sofia nudged Sara. "Told you."

"Told her what?" Nick asked, suspiciously. Both men were getting braver now that Morela was with them, and her secret identity was working on their behalf.

"Nao escravo de sexo," Sara said.

"Nao, nao escravo de sexo!" Nick spat.

"What?" Greg asked.

"Sex slave, Greg, jesus! How do you think they propagate their village? They take men captive, have their way with them, and then get children out of it so the tribe ensures survival!"

Greg couldn't have stopped the grin that appeared on his face, even if he tried. "Sounds like every man's fantasy."

Nick glared. "Is it yours?"

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Plead the fifth?"

"Piss off, Pocahontas."

"Nick, I was only joking!"

Sara and Sofia giggled, and Morela looked upon them sternly. She began to berate them in the strange dialect Nick had heard before, and like in the village, he was unable to pick up anything of the conversation due to the speed in which they fired off the words between each other.

"Seriously, Nick, are you okay?" Greg asked softly, looking at his wound again.

"I'm fine," Nick said gruffly.

"I was trying to rescue you. It was just the only idea that I had at that point of time. If I started brandishing a knife around and come storming back out to cut you down they may have just killed us."

Nick sighed. "I know. And I should have expected that you would be able to charm them senseless. It's a gift you have."

"I only have eyes for you, Stokes." Greg laid his hand upon Nick's, and he squeezed it back.

"There's that charm again," Nick said. "It's a deadly weapon."

They realized that the cave was silent, and that the three women were watching them, highly amused.

"They are no enemy to women," Sara observed sternly.

"No, only to each other," Morela grimaced. "They will have to be careful about that."

"Hey, don't write us off yet," Nick protested. "We can be stupid sometimes, but give us a chance."

And that was when Greg leaned in and kissed him. There was no mistaking the passion and affection behind it. Nick responded just as feelingly, and Greg pulled away, his fingers rubbing at Nick's jaw gently.

"What was that for?" Nick asked.

"Just... when I was taken away I wished I had the opportunity to do it one last time. If something happens to us, I don't want to be wishing that again. Do you get it?"

Nick nodded. "More than you think."

They looked up to see the women once again staring down at them.

"There!" Morela declared. "Now you know they are no danger to us!"

Sara nodded. "I see that they are no enemy of women. But they hunt other things. They come for treasure, yes?"

Nick tried to stand, and gasped when his movement sent pain cascading through his body from his wound. Greg helped him up, providing himself as a support totem to lean against.

"I won't lie to you," he said evenly. "We did come for treasure. But we came for what we thought were the remnants of an extinct race. We are not going to take the treasures of a living group of people."

"You are not going to offer to buy or trade useless trinkets to take it from us?" Sofia demanded. "That is what the others have done before."

Greg shook his head. "Museums are for the display of things from the past, not for robbing from those in the present."

"That is not what the men who came before you have said," Sofia sneered.

"They were probably privateers, not museum archeologists," Nick wheezed. Greg noticed with concern how pale he had become, but Nick waved him off.

"I do not believe that you would come all this way, and walk away with nothing," Sara said flatly.

Nick stared at his feet, and then looked at Greg. "I don't think I have."

Greg stared back at him without reserve.

"Oh, sweet!" Morela clapped her hands. "And do you fear them?" she asked of Sara.

"I fear no man!" Sara thumped her spearhead against the dirt. "But I must protect my people."

"We don't want to cause any harm to them," Greg said, finally able to stop staring at Nick, with roughly seventy-three different emotions running through him, all of them unnamable. "We are asking that you just let us walk away."

"How can we believe you?" Sofia asked. "We let you go, and you come back with more guns, and more men!"

"We stopped Hodges from firing upon you," Nick said in a soft voice. "We didn't want any bloodshed then, and we don't want it now."

"Is this true?" Sara asked of Sofia.

Sofia looked for a moment as if she would love to lie about it, but she couldn't be false to her queen and consort. "It is true. They stopped the other man from shooting us. And then we took care of him so he wouldn't try again."

Greg gagged silently at the casual way she had mentioned turning Hodges into a meat-puppet, and Nick swayed against him.

"You must see that this changes things," Morela advised Sara.

Sara glared at her. "You forget that I am queen now!"

Sofia's mouth dropped open in shock, and Greg observed it all with interest. In a society dominated by matriarchy, Sara's obvious disrespect in this instance was a huge no-no, especially when directed towards her predecessor.

"And you forget, daughter, that you have the throne only because I gave it up!"

Daughter! Greg looked to Nick for his response at this tidbit, and let out a yelp as Nick's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground before Greg could prop him up again. Unwilling to let him go, and unable to maintain his balance, Greg went down with him, taking as much of his weight as he could to cushion the fall. Nick coughed, and a fine white froth issued from his lips and dribbled down his cheek.

"Nick!" Greg yelled. "Morela, what's happening?"

Morela was at his side in an instant. Nick coughed again, the viscous fluid bubbling from his mouth as if he were a rabid dog, and his body began to convulse as Greg desperately tried to hold him down and will him back into consciousness!




BACK IN THE LAND OF THE LIVING


It seemed as if Nick floated for a long time between a dream state and death. He wasn't really sure which, but he didn't like it, whatever it was. He felt Greg near him somehow, but of course could not see him or hear him. He just didn't feel alone, and that comforted him.

When he finally opened his eyes again, he was lying in a comfortable bed, covered with luxurious cloth. He moaned, and heard a scrabbling next to him. Greg appeared above him, joy etching his tired features.

"Nick! Don't you ever do that to me again!"

Nick tried to speak, croaked dustily, and then found words. "Okay, but what exactly did I do?"

"All right, it wasn't what you did, but what was done to you, but you know, you really should have—"

"Greg, you're babbling."

Greg stared off into the distance, and Nick realized how upset he really was. His brow was furrowed, his eyes red, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Greg, how bad was it?"

"Pretty bad," Greg murmured.

"Hey, look at me."

Greg did so, although he was still having trouble meeting Nick's searching gaze directly.

"What happened?"

Greg took a deep breath to try and calm himself. "You were poisoned."

"What the hell—"

"The tip of Sofia's spear, it's a common practice apparently."

"Oh, great, I'm glad it's common."

"She didn't mean to stab you as much as she did. She got a little overexcited."

"Also great," Nick grumped.

Greg lay down beside him, rested his head on his arm and looked as if he could fall asleep there and then. "I was really worried about you. Luckily, they also have the antidote. But you were really close, Nick."

"It would have been nice if, once they had stabbed me, they had given me the antidote quicker."

Greg yawned. "They were still trying to figure out what to do with us."

"Have they reached a decision?"

"I think so."

Nick snuggled in closer to him. "Would you really have hated to see me go?"

"Not even gonna dignify that with a response, Stokes." Greg kissed him. "You are such an idiot."

He closed his eyes, and immediately fell asleep.

"He watched over you the whole time," came a voice from the dark.

Nick sat up, wincing. "Morela, how long have you been there?"

"Long enough." Morela stepped into the light, holding a bowl in her graceful hands. "I wash your wound again."

Nick stared down at his belly, only recognizing now that he was tightly bandaged, and a sickly-greenish poultice had been liberally applied to his wound as he could see it seeping out beneath the fabric. Morela unwrapped him gently, as if she were attending her own child.

"I am sorry this happened," she said softly. "I sent Xanti to act as mediator between you all. I did not foresee his death until it was too late for me to reach him."

She said this so matter-of-factly that Nick did not question her apparent revelation that she had had a vision.

"I'm sorry we couldn't save him," Nick replied, wincing as she rubbed his wound clean. "We tried."

"I know you would have if you could," Morela nodded, patting his skin dry and then applying a fresh layer of the poultice. "Xanti knew the jungle and its ways. The anaconda must have been long-starved to attack a human."

She produced a fresh bandage from underneath the bowl and wrapped it around his belly.

"We wanted to bring him back to you, but then we were under attack," Nick said. "We had no choice but to run."

"I am going to bring him back here now," Morela said, affixing the bandage with a deft knot. "He shall have a proper ceremony."

"I'm coming with you," Nick began to search around him for his shirt.

"No."

"Morela, he died while helping us! I have to bring him back."

"You need to rest," she said firmly. "Lie here with your man, be thankful you have each other still. You can both pay respect at the ceremony."

Nick still twisted about, trying to find his shirt. Morela snorted, then leaned over and pushed him down on the bed.

"Morela—"

She dug her finger into the bandage concealing his wound, and he cried out.

Greg's eyes fluttered open. "Nick?"

"He is fine," Morela said. "Go back to sleep."

Unable to rouse himself any further, Greg obeyed.

Morela leaned in to Nick. "Still hurts, doesn't it? Silly man!"

Nick wiped at the fresh sheen of sweat that beaded his forehead, and nodded reluctantly.

"Then you must rest. This is my duty."

"Morela, you've done so much for us, but can I ask a favor of you?"

Morela nodded, unsure of what he was going to ask.

"Hodges, the man who was with us. I know what he did was wrong, but he deserves a proper burial or ceremony as well. Death makes everybody equal."

Morela's lips were grim, but she slowly nodded. "I will speak to Sara about it."

Nick sank back fully against the pillows. "Thanks for that."

"You rest now," Morela instructed.

Nick watched her go, but she turned back, humphed to herself, and picked up Greg's arm and placed it over Nick. Then she laughed, and walked back into the shadows.

Smiling to himself, Nick stroked the length of Greg's arm. This made Greg move in closer to him, and Nick rolled over so he could look at him. He kissed Greg one last time before following him into sleep.




"Greg?"

"Yes, Nick?"

"Are we really in the bed of the queen?"

"Yes, Nick."

"I guess that's quite an honor, huh?"

"Well, when your girlfriend almost kills someone, I guess you've got to avoid a diplomatic incident so you pour on the good stuff."

"I've never slept in a royal bedchamber."

"No?"

"You have?"

"Well, maybe not royal."

"Greg!"

"Only have eyes for you, Stokes, remember?"

"Uh huh."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. Now."

"Yeah, me too."

"Uh, Greg... what are you doing?"

"Just making you feel even better."

"Greg, we're in the royal bed!"

"They should have known not to leave us in here together, then."

"Greg..."

"By the way, this isn't favor number two. You're not well enough for that yet. This is just a preview."

Nick's stifled groan, and Greg's hearty chuckle, reverberated around the stone walls of the royal bedchamber.




MOURNING BECOMES THEM


Nick awoke, wrapped up in Greg. It wasn't a bad way to wake up at all. Greg still looked tired, even though asleep, but the bags under his eyes weren't as dark, and the grim set of his lips were long gone as he smiled in his sleep. Nick nuzzled the hollow of his throat, and Greg groaned as he awakened.

"That's the best alarm ever," he murmured. "How are you feeling?"

"The wound's sore, but other than that, great. How about you?"

Greg yawned. "Tired. What do you think our chances are of getting breakfast in bed?"

"I'd say you're pushing it."

"Too bad. Just have to wait for a nice little café in Manaus." He gasped as Nick's thumb brushed over his left nipple. "Hell."

"You not planning to get out of bed in Manaus?" Nick teased. "Room service!"

"I don't want to get out of bed he-he-here—" Greg shuddered as this time Nick's tongue teased his nipple. "Don't start what you can't finish, Stokes. I'm already as hard as a rock from taking care of you last night."

"I offered—"

"I know. But you were sick."

"Like I said, I'm feeling much better now."

And he proved it by reaching down and freeing Greg's cock from his pants. He pumped it slowly, and Greg threw his head back, shuddering.

Nick didn't want to sully the royal sheets, so he took the proper precautions. Greg cried out as Nick took him in his mouth, his tongue probing the slit softly, tasting the musky pre-cum that was already forming. Nick showed no mercy, this was hard and quick. He pumped the base of Greg's cock, and Greg thrashed beneath him, one of his feet braced on the bed as he came. Nick swallowed, drinking all of him, and Greg babbled something incomprehensible as Nick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then tucked Greg away back into his pants.

"Nicky," Greg breathed.

"Yeah?"

"Shit."

Nick laughed. "You really have to work on your pillow talk."

Greg grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled him up for a kiss. Nick burrowed his head into Greg's shoulder, and Greg held him against his chest, feeling overly emotional at the fact that Nick was still alive, and that he had just had a mind-blowing orgasm.

"Do you need anything?"

Nick chuckled. "No, I'm fine. Maybe just a little more sleep."

Greg had already beaten him to the punch. Satisfied and satiated, he was back in the land of nod immediately. Nick closed his eyes and just basked in their shared warmth until he fell asleep.




The shifting of the bed as someone sat on the foot of it woke them up a short time later.

"It is time," Morela said solemnly.

Nick reached for his shirt, and Greg did the same. Morela gestured at the end of the bed.

"Your bags."

She had obviously brought them back from where they had been abandoned near Xanti's body. They thanked her, and when she left they changed into fresh clothes.

"I never thought I would be so happy to put on boots again," Greg mused as he did so.

Nick smiled at him. "I don't know, I think you would be perfectly at home running native around the jungle barefoot and in little more than a loincloth. A torn loincloth, with-"

"Don't bring your fantasies into this, Stokes."

Nick playfully swatted him on the ass as Greg moved past him, and Greg turned back to give him a smirk.

"Serious face, now, Nicky."

They remembered the somber ceremony awaiting them, and sobered up. They moved through the cave and the curtain of foliage that covered the entrance, and stepped outside expecting an atmosphere of grief and sorrow.

Tribal drums pounded out a rhythm of life and joy. Dancers congregated in the center of the village, and Sara watched them from her throne. Sofia sat by her side, but at a lower position showing her deference; Morela took an honorary position behind her.

"Uh, they don't look too grief-stricken," Greg said. "Is that... beer?"

A warrior passed by with cups filled with amber liquid, and pushed them into their hands.

"It is beer!" Greg said appreciatively.

"Many South American tribes brew their own form of beer from either cassava or maize. It's different from the type of spirit we had while in Morela's village," Nick informed him. "Wait, am I being Mr. Encyclopedia again?"

Greg clinked his cup against Nick's, and they both took a large gulp. "Yeah, but I told you before I like it. And hey, you said you'd buy me a beer after you rescued me from the Bushmaster."

"I said I would buy you a beer. This is taking advantage of someone else's stash."

"Hmm, this stuff's not too bad," Greg shrugged. "Fine, fine. You can still buy me a beer."

Nick smiled rakishly. "Liquor you up and take advantage of you."

Greg took another gulp of beer. "Stokes, you don't have to liquor me up in order to take advantage of me. I'm pretty easy when it comes to you." His eyes displayed a naked promise that Nick couldn't wait to fulfill.

Morela waved them over, and they weaved their way through the crowd, recognizing familiar faces from Morela's village. They were starting to realize that far from being araid of the She, this tribe actually was a peaceful neighbor, and probably more than half of them were related to each other, thanks to the blood ties and the use of the escravo de sexo. In fact, that was probably why Morela had berated Xanti before he left to be their diplomatic escort through the jungle, to make sure that he did not become a willing slave to someone he might possibly be related to.

"Do you think Sofia's going to try and finish the job off?" Nick asked Greg as they made their way to the throne.

Greg rolled his eyes. "She saved your life, Nick. I doubt she's going to kill you now."

Sofia stood as they approached, and reached down to take Nick's hands in her own. "I am sorry, and hope you accept my blessing."

Nick stared into her bright blue eyes, and actually found himself flushing a little. "No harm done," he muttered, his accent thickening.

Greg giggled to himself at the immediate change in attitude. "So, this is some party."

"We do not mourn like you," Sara grumped.

"No," Morela said quickly, to make up for her daughter's lack of social grace, which was most unbefitting a queen. "Death is just part of an eternal journey. You must make your way on the next path with joy and laughter behind you."

"Before we burn you," Sara interrupted.

"Burn?" Greg asked. "So you cremate the bodies?"

Sofia nodded. "To make the soul pure again."

"When you have no ties to your body, you are truly free to pass on," Morela explained. "So we must dance, laugh, tell stories, drink and make love all night long!"

"Sounds like a bacchanal," Nick whispered to Greg.

"I like the sound of the last part," Greg grinned.

Nick shook his head, but smiled complacently into his beer as he took another mouthful.




TWO FUNERALS AND A WAKE


Greg found that he couldn't look directly at the body that lay on the second funeral pyre. The flayed corpse of David Hodges still looked raw and red, and just as horrific as the brief flash he had gotten of it when it swung down from the tree during their initial escape from the She. So he hung back, and said a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening that he hoped Hodges would find some kind of peace in the afterlife. And that wherever that was, he was getting in some good snark because that was when he was at his happiest.

He grimaced when Morela handed Nick the torch. The flickering flame mirrored Nick's own hesitance, and he looked to Greg for support. Greg nodded stiffly, and Nick stepped forward to set the pyre alight. He handed the torch back to Morela and made his way to stand beside Greg.

Sara seemed unhappy that their would-be murderer was being given the same send-off as her own blood relation, but didn't dare to say so within hearing of her mother and former leader. But she was surprised and honored when her mother came to her and presented the torch so that she could light Xanti's pyre herself. She gave her mother her rare but engaging smile, and reached for Sofia's hand. Together they laid the torch at the bottom of the pyre and stepped back as the flame feasted readily on the dry branches that supported the body.

The night sky itself seemed aflame, also nice but the somber mood did not last. Incense was quickly lit to mask the smell of burning flesh, gag and tables were laden with food. Nick and Greg both declined any food, as they couldn't help but think of the barbeque occurring mere yards away although they were more than happy to partake of more beer. The drums started their hypnotic beating again, and Sofia led Sara into the middle of their people. They began to sway against each other, and Sofia began putting on a display for her partner that seemed wholly decadent and one that may have been better reserved for the privacy of their cave. But it was their way of laying claim to one another, and as Sofia finished her dance by slamming herself fully against Sara and grinding their hips together, she also gave her a passionate kiss.

Nick and Greg watched hypnotically.

"It's not so strange here," Morela said, making them jump as she appeared beside them.

"It's beautiful." Greg gave a low whistle.

"You talk too much," Morela told him.

Nick laughed at Greg's affronted expression.

"Don't you worry," Morela told Nick. "He talks too much, but that's all he will do."

Nick nodded. "I know. He's trustworthy."

"He's also right here, not invisible," Greg complained.

Nick reached out for him, and drew him into an embrace, which made Greg hide a smile against his shoulder.

"When you go home, not so easy, eh?" Morela asked.

"No," Greg replied, his head still hidden against Nick's shoulder. "Not so easy." And Nick felt Greg's grip tighten on him, as if he felt it was the last moment he could do so freely.

"That's why you like to explore," Morela said. "Easy to be free, away from home."

"Depends where you go, I guess," Nick replied, rubbing his hand against the small of Greg's back.

"As long as you are together, you will be happy, no matter what else you must do," Morela said wistfully.

Greg broke away from Nick to face her, although they kept hold of each other. "That's why you stopped being queen." It was a statement, not a question.

Morela nodded. "Yes. He was meant to be an escravo de sexo, nothing more. But Nicodemo was special. When you find someone like that, it does not matter what they are, they are yours and you are theirs. The rest of the world be damned. Of course, my tribe could not accept. So I had to make decision to stay on and be unhappy, or be happy with him. No choice."

Nick looked down at Greg's hand, and took it in his own. Greg squeezed it, his response implicit.

"Where is Nicodemo?" Greg asked, even though he had already guessed the answer.

"On his new path," Morela said, looking away to where the funeral pyres glimmered at the edge of the village. Her eyes glistened, but when she turned back to look at them her gaze was serene. "He has been on that path for many years now."

"But why not return to the She and take your throne back?" Nick asked.

"I had my new life, my children there. And Sara was old enough for Queen. It is hers now."

She closed her hand over their clasped hands. "I ask you before if he was your man," she said to Nick. He nodded, and Greg looked at him quizzically. Morela now turned her attention to him. "I ask you now, is he your man?"

"Yes," Greg answered without hesitation.

Morela nodded, satisfied. "Remember that, when things are hard, when you not explore, and in your own lands."

Both men nodded, and Morela smiled. "Now, it is time to celebrate again!"

She clapped her hands, and fresh cups of beer appeared. The sound of the drums increased, the dancers' energy seemed boundless, and Nick and Greg made the most of their night of freedom of public affection before they seemed to dissolve into one another as the night became morning.

***

SUCH SWEET SORROW


Morela and the other members of her village were ready to leave the She and return home, so Nick and Greg knew that the time had come for them to begin the long journey back to Manaus.

They had spent the night in a smaller chamber of the cave, sequestered from the royal bedchamber. Once again they had drunk too much to fool around, and once again Greg complained fervently about it when they awoke.

"We're in another world," Nick told him patiently. "It's not like we're going to drink this much when we get home."

Home. That was something that was weighing on both their minds, especially now that it was becoming a reality again. It was so easy to get lost in the now when you were in the field. Sometimes it seemed as if you would never go back - but you always did. And now it would be to a world that would seem even more cloistered, even more dangerous. One where they would have to be careful, where such dancing together and the public displays of affection they had indulged in the night before would not be so readily accepted.

How are we going to make this work? Greg thought as he watched Nick crouch down and pack his dirty clothes away in his bag.

He didn't have any answers to assuage himself.

Nick found he coped better if he didn't try to think about it. It didn't mean that the thought wasn't continually crossing his mind, but when it did he buried it down deep, as he had been accustomed to doing with everything else that had troubled him over the past few months.

Luckily he was prevented from mulling it over once more when Sofia and Sara entered their cave. Just behind them stood Morela, looking slightly disappointed that she wasn't catching Nick and Greg in some form of inappropriate behavior as she was wont to do.

Sara held an old, cracked bowl in her hand. "For you," she said without ceremony, pushing it into Greg's hands.

Greg stared down at what was possibly the ugliest piece of pottery he had ever seen. "Er, thanks." He wondered if he had something equally as ugly in his bag, and whether that would suffice if this was a gift-exchanging ceremony.

Sara nodded at Sofia, and she stepped forward and dangled a small gold cross, encrusted with bright stones, in front of Nick. "For you."

"Guess who's more popular?" Greg muttered. "I get a broken bowl and you get jewelry."

Morela hushed him. "You should know, with your job, the shiny isn't always the most important."

Chastened, Greg nodded, turning the bowl over in his hands. He could barely make out some dim, forgotten painted symbols on the curved sides.

It dawned on Nick what these were for. "So that we don't go back empty-handed," he nodded.

"Tell your people we are long dead, our tombs raided," Sara said. "That there is nothing left for you to find, except these two pieces. That you took all that remained. And that the journey is too dangerous to reap so little."

Greg ran his fingers along the rim of the bowl, thinking about the people who would never be coming back from this trip. "We'll also tell them there are no signs of burial plots, that perhaps you even moved on from this site hundreds of years ago. That way they won't send any more archeologists here."

"You can both come back," Morela offered. She looked at Sara, pointedly.

Sara huffed. "If you like."

Sofia decided to step in for her partner and Queen. "You would be welcome. You are like us. It is surprising, but you are."

"All us queers gotta stick together," Greg mused.

Nick raised an eyebrow. "I think she said it more poetically."

"This is why I got the bowl, isn't it?"

Sofia and Nick exchanged long-suffering glances of commiseration with each other over their respective choice of partners and their lack of tact, transcending even the unspoken tension that existed between them since Sofia wounded him a little too much. They both knew instinctively, no matter what the drawbacks, that the other wouldn't have anybody else.

Begrudgingly, Sara executed a small bow. "Thank you, for not telling of us. Morela is right, you are not like other men. That is why you may come back."

The two men were amused by her severity, even when she was trying to be gracious, and they replied in kind. Sofia and Sara gave them one final nod, and disappeared back into the darkness of the cave.

"Are you ready?" Morela asked.

So this was it. Their journey, which had started bizarrely as a mismatched cost-cutting venture, had led them to the middle of the Basin in order to find that a long-extinct tribe still lived. And there would be no glory from their discovery, but they were okay with that.

"Ready," they said in unison.




They reached Morela's village by late afternoon, and were met by Vaasquez, who ran to them excitedly. He shook both Nick and Greg's hands like an old friend would, and then conversed quickly with Morela. She turned to them quickly, with a slightly upset expression on her face.

"There is banana boat on the river. They stopped here to get supplies. A scout saw us coming back, and Vaasquez ran down and stopped them from leaving. They are waiting now, to take you back to Manaus."

"So we have to leave already?" Greg asked with a heavy heart. He had been looking forward to spending one more night with Morela's tribe more than he'd realized, and now it was being snatched away.

"It could be weeks before another boat comes through," Nick told Greg. "We should take this one while we can."

Greg nodded. "I guess so."

Morela took Nick by his hands. "No goodbye. I believe I will see you again."

"I will," Nick reassured her. And he knew in his own heart it would be true.

Greg let out a protesting squeak as Morela kissed Nick fully on the lips. Nick seemed somewhat surprised himself, but chastely allowed it to happen.

Morela patted his cheek approvingly as she pulled away.

"Humor this old woman!" she instructed Greg as he looked at her with his mouth open. She took his chin in her hand, and at the first touch her eyes widened. She gasped, and stepped back, breaking contact.

Greg looked at Nick, but he was distracted, saying his farewell to Vaasquez. Greg turned back to Morela, whose fingers were trembling as she pressed them against her lips.

"What is it?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, still unable to speak. She reached out to touch him again, but this time there was no big reaction. She pulled him in to embrace him, and whispered into his ear, "Something will happen to you. I don't know what, but when it does, you must not push him away. Promise me."

"What's going to happen?" Greg asked, pushing her back so he could look her in the eye. "What?"

She shook her head again. "It passed too quick to see. But if you let it, it will hurt you more the second time than it does the first. Don't let that happen. Don't push him away."

Greg felt like his knees were rubber; he swayed unsteadily as Morela embraced him again. "Be careful, my boy," she murmured.

Greg nodded, and pulled away, troubled by her palpable emotion. Nick smiled at him as he turned from Vaasquez. "Ready?"

Greg croaked a reply, but it was indecipherable. He cleared his throat, and this time found his voice. "Yeah."

They made their way to the riverbank, where a boat fancier (but not by much) than The Bloody Mary awaited them. A gangplank stretched to the bank, ready for them to board. As they stepped onto it, Nick slipped on a wet patch, and his knee twisted beneath him. He yelped with the pain, and Greg reached out to steady him. He couldn't help but panic slightly over whether he was touching him for longer than a 'normal' man would touch another, and realized that the return to the real world had just begun.

"Jesus, Nick. You survive the wilds of the Amazon, a sinking ship, hungry caimans and dangerous natives, but you damage yourself while walking up a fucking gangplank?"

"I'm fine," Nick grunted, and managed to stumble his way up towards the deck. The captain of the vessel was waiting there and he greeted them warmly. He had already heard of The Bloody Mary's sinking through the jungle grapevine and was happy to be taking survivors back to Manaus, knowing he would be treated as a hero even though he had done nothing whatever to actually rescue them.

Nick and Greg climbed to the upper deck, and waved at the villagers who had assembled for one last goodbye. As the boat pulled away, Morela raised her hand slowly and left it in the air, her expression grim as she stared at Greg, remembering that he hadn't promised her what she had asked him.

Greg watched her disappear into the distance, and knew he couldn't tell Nick. He had seen what could happen to people firsthand whenever Nana Olaf had been struck by one of her visions and told people things they didn't want to hear. Living under a cloud of fear made them crazy, and they ended up causing the very thing they most wanted to avoid. Greg knew that Morela had meant well, but he wished she had kept her vision to herself. It would make things a hell of a lot easier.




RETURN TO MANAUS


They had had to bunk with a number of the crew, so Nick couldn't even try his seductive wiles upon Greg to try and pull him out of the funk he had settled in ever since they had left Morela's village.

On their second night as they drank beer in the darkness on the deck, Nick boldly took his hand and stroked it tenderly. "You want to talk to me about what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Greg said automatically.

His desire to keep Nick from worrying about Morela's vague vision only served to make him worry. He thought Greg was mulling over their return to civilization, where the shine of their new relationship would very quickly be dulled by the necessity of climbing back into the closet.

"It'll be okay, you know," he tried to soothe him. "We'll make it work."

"Sure," Greg said softly.

"Are you thinking about Ecklie's reaction to the fact we didn't get the diadem?"

"Not really. It's just one of those things."

Knowing he was getting the brush-off, Nick persevered. "I have a feeling Grissom will take it okay. He knows that in this business we don't always get the treasure. He'll probably be happy enough that you didn't get it either."

He hoped that would make Greg smile, but Greg just took another sip of his beer.

"Just think, we may not be bringing the diadem back, but we found a lost tribe. You can't get more adventurous than that."

Greg shrugged. "Yeah, a lost tribe we've sworn not to tell anybody about! That's going to help pay my rent."

"Greg..." Nick said helplessly.

"Well, it won't, will it?"

Trying once again for humor, Nick said, "If it comes to that, I know a place where you could stay if you got evicted. Until you get back on your feet, I mean."

He was finally rewarded with a slight smile from Greg. "I have a feeling if I stayed with you I would hardly ever be on my feet."

"Well, can you blame me? Just look at you."

Greg sniggered into his glass. "You are such an idiot."

Nick felt more at peace at that moment than he had in the last twenty-four hours. He swigged at his beer, and happily watched the stars pass overhead, Greg's hand still in his. "Takes one to know one."




They pulled into the port at Manaus the next day. Although they were exhausted they caught a taxi to the airport and inquired into the availability of a charter service to take them back to America. They couldn't arrange for a flight until two days later, but neither of them were that concerned as it meant they could stay in their little bubble for just a while longer.

At the hotel they rented two rooms, with an adjoining door between them. The second room would barely be entered, they knew that the one room was theirs and theirs alone.

The balcony overlooked the busy port; they stood there for a while and watched the activity below them before they both made an unconscious beeline for the bathroom.

The shower stall and bath were barely big enough for one, let alone two. They both felt initial disappointment that they couldn't squeeze in together, but decided upon the order of things with a vigorous round of rock paper scissors.

Greg's paper wrapped around Nick's rock, and he gave Nick a quick peck on the lips before shooing him out of the bathroom in order to get cleaned up... hopefully just to get dirty and a bit lucky later on. Greg smiled to himself at the thought, his dick already hardening at the thought.

"Later," he whispered, knowing that a warm shower was only going to make it worse, but only warm water would rinse the accumulated grime on him away.

"Don't take too long," Nick called from outside the door. "I'm filthy, and I stink."

"You could always use the bathroom in the other room," Greg reminded him, the thought only just having occurred to him.

"Oh," Nick said, surprised, and laughed. "Meet you back in here in ten, genius."

"Okay."

They both took a little longer than they expected, continuous hot water and the ability to wash themselves thoroughly, plus the anticipation of being able to explore each other properly, made them downright finicky with their hygiene.

As Greg left the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, the door to the next room opened, and Nick emerged, dressed in the same fashion.

"You scrub up real nice," Greg teased, as he admired Nick's now-golden torso which gleamed in the shuttered light coming in from the outside world.

"You're not too bad yourself," Nick replied, thinking that was an understatement.

They approached each other hungrily, but Nick surprised Greg by stopping to reach over, running his hands almost reverently down the Greg's chest, basking in the heightened warmth coming from his freshly scrubbed body.

Greg found his fingers trembling as he brushed them over a quickly hardening nipple, relishing the little gasp that caress elicited from Nick.

"I seem to remember you saying something about paying back the favor," Nick growled, tracing a circle around Greg's bellybutton with a gentle fingertip, his cock hardening and lifting the towel that covered it.

For all their bravado, both were suddenly nervous. So much of their previous coupling had been done with urgency, with need, in fear. They had crashed into each other. Now they could take their time, explore each other, enjoy each other. Suddenly it seemed to have so much responsibility involved.

Greg made the first move. He reached out and traced a line along Nick's jaw, rubbing his thumb along Nick's bottom lip. Nick opened his mouth, beginning to breathe harder with desire. Greg boldly let his thumb enter past the teeth, and felt Nick's smile beneath it as he closed his lips over the thumb and licked the tip tentatively.

Greg could feel himself begin to harden, and a quick touch of Nick's groin told him he was already there. Greg slowly pulled his thumb away; Nick tried to follow it, but Greg laughed and leaned in to kiss him. Nick's hands traveled up his back and began to stroke the skin at his neck as they kissed, their mouths moving together. Nick drew him in closer, and Greg moaned as he realized he was unhappy with the fact that they were still clothed - even though the covering was minimal.

Yet there was a part of him that was nervous about taking off that final layer - he had been naked with Nick in the full Amazonian sunlight, yet in this semi-darkened hotel room he felt more vulnerable. He drew back and was struck by the look of affection in Nick's eyes. It couldn't be faked. Feeling better, he began to pull at the loose fold of his towel.

"Here," Nick said gently. "Let me."

He could feel Greg's heart beating erratically as his fingers traced down his chest and towards his waist.

"Hey," he whispered. "We don't have to do this."

"Believe me, I want to," Greg said, but his voice was shaky.

"Talk to me." Nick moved them over to the bed, and they sat at the end of it.

Greg didn't look at him. He had been struck again by Morela's revelation, but he knew he couldn't let it affect him so badly. He felt bad for not sharing it with Nick - it was no way to be starting a new relationship with secrets already being kept. But he felt it was his burden. Morela's words came back to him, you must not push him away. So he resolved to forget about it, move on, and take this thing with Nick as it developed. "I know at the moment the world isn't really on the side of guys like us."

Nick didn't say anything, he just let Greg speak.

"But I need to know if we're going to go back home and just pretend this didn't happen. Because if we do, I can't go through with this today. I can't have wanted you for so long, then have you for four days and have it taken away from me."

Nick sighed heavily, and reached down to take Greg's right hand in his own. "What makes you think I would do that?"

"Because it's different out here, on an adventure. We can get away with stuff we couldn't do back home. This was like a dream, home is reality. And reality isn't all that great."

Nick's brow furrowed. "It can be. If you're careful."

Greg finally looked at him. "What are you saying?"

"That I'm not thinking of pretending this never happened. Are you?"

"No," Greg breathed.

"So stop looking so fucking sad," Nick murmured, bringing Greg's hand up to his lips and brushing them over his knuckles.

He suddenly found himself lying on his back, a happy Greg squirming around on top of him. Nick began to laugh, which was hushed by Greg's tongue suddenly filling his mouth. He managed to reach up and undo the towel. He was delighted by the sight of the creamy secret skin once more, and wanted nothing more than to feel it against his own. Luckily Greg was taking care of that, pulling his towel free from his body. They twisted ineffectually together as they tried to get the towel out of where it had been caught beneath and between their two bodies.

"If we keep on going this way, we'll get nowhere," Nick laughed.

Greg sat up, his thighs trapping Nick's. Both towels had now disappeared as if by magic, and Nick cupped Greg's dick against his palm. Greg moaned and rocked into it, delighting in the friction that resulted. Nick slid his hand away and slowly reached around to cup Greg's ass. Greg leaned forward and managed to rub his cock against Nick's, which was now almost flat against his belly.

"I like you clothed," Greg purred, "but I like you just as much naked."

"Same here, Slim," Nick grinned.

"I told you not to call me that." Greg stopped rocking, as if to insinuate that his denying of the pleasures of the flesh wasn't an empty threat.

"You're going to have to get used to it," Nick said stubbornly.

"Fine," Greg fumed, but proved how empty the threat was by kissing him, his tongue working furiously within Nick's mouth.

Nick began moving beneath him, desperate to get the friction back. Greg ran his tongue along Nick's chin, down his neck, and tongued the hollow that gave way to his chest. With the very tip of his tongue he teased Nick's left nipple to an achingly-stiff peak. He paused to lick his own fingers, and as he continued suckling, teased the other nipple with the wet digits. Nick moaned, his cock now trapped in the back of Greg's thigh as he had arched up a little bit more. Greg laughed at his agony, and then continued licking a stripe from the nipple to Nick's navel, his body moving downwards and freeing Nick's cock once more, the tip of his tongue more coming to roost within the navel. His chin was stroking the base of Nick's shaft, and Nick began thrusting once more, desperate for friction.

Greg looked up at him and smiled. "Impatient, aren't you?"

"You have no idea what you do to me," Nick murmured.

Greg kissed the thin trail of hair that began at Nick's waist, and moved further south.

"Why, hello," Greg whispered to what greeted him there.

Nick began to laugh. "Stop it."

"Yes, this is serious business," Greg said mockingly. "I have a friend I'd like you to meet."

Nick shivered as Greg arched once more, until their cocks were rubbing together again.

"Oh, jesus," Nick groaned. "Greg, I can't-"

Suddenly he was shooting thick ropes of cum across them, and Greg couldn't hold on any longer either. Feeling Nick's warm seed hit him, he desperately began bucking against him and followed seconds afterwards.

The two men lay panting together, sliding in the slickness of their combined seed. "We have got to get better at this," Nick moaned.

"Maybe we should just feel complimented that we find each other so sexy," Greg said.

"I feel sufficiently complimented, now I want to feel you in me," Nick replied, pulling the other man closer.

"Give me a minute," Greg winked at him.

Nick smiled. "I'll give you an hour of them."

"Only an hour?" Greg said, mock hurt. "I think I'm worth more than that."

"You are," Nick said seriously.

Greg rested his head upon Nick's shoulder and closed his eyes. "So are you."

They happily drifted into sleep.




EPILOGUE


When Greg was fully conscious again he became aware of the smell of roasted coffee beans. He opened one eye eagerly, hoping he wasn't dreaming, and found Nick standing over him with a steaming cup in his hand.

"Coffee," Greg said dreamily.

"You told me I should never toy with you about it, remember?"

Greg took the cup happily. "Vaguely." He looked back up at Nick. "You're clothed again. It's a travesty."

He was rewarded with the infamous Nick Stokes blush. The man had to learn how to take a compliment. Greg gulped eagerly at his coffee, but he was just as eager to have Nick beside him again. Probably more than the coffee, if he could admit to such heresy.

Nick pulled his shirt off, and Greg gave an appreciative wolf whistle. Nick laughed, and stared bashfully at the floor.

"Don't stop there," Greg instructed.

"Drink your coffee," Nick ordered.

"You're right. I'm going to need the energy," Greg said, lasciviously.

Nick unbuttoned his jeans, and Greg gave an involuntary moan as he glimpsed the dark thatch of hair leading downward, that meant Nick had been going around without drawers.

The shutters cast streaks of light and shadow over bronzed skin, highlighting the planes of Nick's chest, and marking a glowing pathway past lean hips and long muscular legs.

Greg gulped down his coffee without savoring the beverage as he usually did. Nick was already growing hard, and he gave himself a slight pull to tease his cock even more awake.

"Hey," Greg downed the final mouthful of coffee, and hurriedly set the cup on the bedside table. It fell to the side, and hit the floor. He didn't care. "That's my job."

Nick teased him with another stroke, his long fingers giving a slight twist as they reached the end of his shaft.

Greg batted his hand away, and he laughed.

"So fucking beautiful," Greg breathed.

"Only it?" Nick teased.

Greg reached up, and pulled Nick down beside him. "The whole package is pretty fucking fantastic."

Nick reached down to pull the sheet away from Greg's body. "So is the total Sanders experience."

Now it was Greg's turn to blush, but he camouflaged it by covering Nick's body with his own. He kissed him slowly and deeply, his hand traveling down to continue stroking Nick's cock. Nick shuddered below him, and Greg released him to travel down further, tickling his balls with a light touch until Nick was gasping at the implied ghosting over his entrance. Greg slicked his fingers with his own spittle, and they returned, moistening the outer walls.

"Gonna need a little more help," he murmured, and without taking his eyes off Nick he reached behind him for the small jar of Vaseline. His fingers liberally coated, they breached the walls this time, and Nick widened his legs to allow him deeper access, sweat beginning to glisten on his body.

Nick moaned as the first finger entered him, gently probing and stretching.

"Okay?" Greg asked.

Nick nodded.

A second finger was added, and Greg delved deeper. Nick found himself instinctively arching his hips up to try and force him further inside. He was rewarded when the tip of a finger brushed his prostate. By the expression of pleasure on Nick's face, Greg knew he had hit the jackpot and began rubbing it, watching Nick grow harder and sweat more. He slowly began to withdraw his fingers, knowing he was ready.

"No..." Nick groaned. "Don't..."

Greg reached into the jar of Vaseline again, and lubed his painfully-hard cock, each slight touch threatening to make him spill before he even managed to get inside Nick. He lined himself up, the mere feel of Nick's warm flesh against the tip of his cock exciting him.

Greg was so filled with desire that the man beneath him wanted him so badly, he began bucking madly with passion, thrusting in and out with total abandon until he slipped out entirely and ended up fucking Nick behind the knee. He stopped, bent over him, and began laughing.

Nick was laughing as well. "You know, that's not the best place to stick it, Greg. And it's not the best thing for my ego, to be in this position and have my boyfriend laughing at me."

The 'b' word. Normally, in the past this would have made Greg want to run for the hills. But the fact that Nick Stokes was saying it with such ease made Greg almost giddy. He leaned in and claimed Nick's mouth with his own, thrilling when the kiss deepened as Nick's tongue frantically met his. Rock hard again, he broke away and Nick smiled up at him.

"How's your leg?" he couldn't help asking, concerned.

"Sore," Nick admitted.

Greg reached down and swung it over his shoulder. This took the strain off it, and Nick was able to relax as Greg lined himself up and this time was able to glide into Nick with ease. Nick moaned as the change in position meant that the little bundle of nerves that brought so much pleasure was stimulated again and again. The sensation of Greg moving inside him, combined with the hand on his cock, gently pumping it with a slight twist every now and again soon had him almost at the brink.

"I'm close," Nick moaned.

"Me too," Greg panted, quickening his thrusts. He leaned down to claim Nick's mouth, driving his tongue demandingly inside in time with his strokes. It overwhelmed Nick; he couldn't hold back if he'd wanted to, coming explosively over Greg's hand.

The sight of Nick's seed gleaming on his stomach drove Greg into a frenzy, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh grew louder in the small room. He braced himself, looking down at the look of pleasure that softened Nick's face. Greg could have howled as he came, but he turned his head to nuzzle the inside of Nick's knee, moaning before kissing the heated flesh, his lower body spasming into Nick's. His hips slowed as he shuddered through the aftermath of the first of what he hoped would be many times that he made love to Nicholas Stokes.

When he felt the strength return to his legs enabling him to move again, Greg reached down and pulled out. He fell onto the mattress beside Nick, who instantly turned to him and pushed a sweaty lock of hair out of his eyes. He cupped the back of Greg's neck and brought him in for a kiss.

"Favor number three?" Nick asked cheekily.

Greg closed his eyes, and laughed softly. "You're pushing it, even for me."

"Guess we'll just have to wait until we're back home, then," Nick whispered, circling an arm around Greg's waist and drawing him in closer until their bodies were locked together.

The promise of being together back home soothed them both. No matter how difficult it could be, they had both reached the conclusion it would be worth it.

As they were drifting off to sleep, Greg murmured, "The first of many adventures."

"You can count on it," Nick agreed through the thickness of approaching slumber. "Hey, Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"You said before that we left the Basin empty-handed... I don't think we did."

Greg kissed him, marveling at how the quest had turned out so well, and more than he had hoped for. "I don't think we did, either."

After all, their biggest adventure was only beginning.

***