The deafening blast of gunshots echoed through the lush thicket of trees and foliage, drowning out the horrified wails of men -- those unfortunate enough to survive the spray of buckshot that ripped through the terrain and made Swiss cheese of their weathered bodies. Pitt Mackeson barely flinched at the pandemonium taking place around him. He'd grown accustomed to the sounds of death and war. In fact, there were moments when he actually relished the blaring explosions and cries. The shrill screams filled him with a sense of euphoria and power. They made him feel...acutely aware of that fact that HE was still alive... Especially, when the screeching came at his own two hands.

Becoming a Bushwhacker had opened new doors for Pitt. There was no law in the wild. No distinct right and wrong, at least not in his jaded eyes. It was all about murder, vengeance -- things that he could understand. Yes, he was free to do whatever he pleased. Truth be told, Pitt didn't care if the war ever ended. Wasn't sure if he could go back to living a structured, civilized life. There was nothing left for him to go back to, anyway. His family had been slaughtered at the onset of the war. The only thing that awaited his return was an empty farmhouse, which had undoubtedly fallen into ruin by now. At least here, he had his men. A purpose. And, of course, there was always Roedel, the sniggering voice in the back of his mind taunted. Jake Roedel, the very boy he was crouched down in the bushes silently awaiting -- the young man who Pitt had grown far too attached to. The one he lived to hate, more than any Jayhawker.

Earlier that same day, Pitt had aimed his gun in the boy's direction, had even pulled the trigger. The miss was deliberate. He wasn't sure what the intended goal had been, except maybe to make Roedel shit his pants and suffer a small amount of humiliation. It would have served Roedel right, after the way he'd embarrassed Pitt in the restaurant, that day long ago -- and the boy had done it right in front of Pitt's own men. He had never been so angry or frustrated, in all his life. But instead of behaving rashly, as he typically would have, he'd threatened Roedel, had glowered and stomped off. And even though a stretch of time had passed since then, Pitt still had every intention of making good on that threat. Who the hell did Dutchy think he was, anyway? The fact that the boy could read a stupid letter from someone's mother, didn't make him better than the rest of the men. Didn't give him the right to go shooting his mouth off like he had.

That one incident alone would have been enough reason for Pitt to want the boy dead. Hell, he had killed for much less. However, Pitt had recently decided that killing off his fellow Bushwhacker would be fruitless. He didn't want Dutchy dead, not yet. It wasn't any sense of compassion that motivated Pitt, though. His decision to let Dutchy live had been purely selfish.

The day at camp, when he'd pushed Roedel into reading that sappy letter, had been the real turning point. Instead of feeling self-satisfied that his bullying had worked on Roedel, all he felt was exasperation. Instead of laughing beneath his breath at the smarmy letter or Roedel's soft voice, all he could do was sit and sulk, as he stared at the boy's moving lips. It was then, that he'd begun to question just why it was, that Roedel stoked his anger. Was it jealousy? Was he envious of Dutchy's smarts? And why did he feel so compelled to study little Dutchy's every gesture and expression? So as to piss himself off? Because he wanted the boy to be dead? Hrmpf. Hardly, though at first, he had tried to convince himself that was the case.

No. That wasn't it. He had to admit, at least to himself, that it was something altogether different. It had much more to do with the way Pitt's stomach flip-flopped every time Roedel dared to sweep those wide blue eyes in his direction. It was the same type of feeling he'd experienced, the few times he'd paid for a whore and gotten his first glimpses of wet pussy. His heart beat out a faster rhythm and adrenaline flooded his veins. He could feel that same warmth gathering in his belly -- moving in a swift current, right down to his dick. Yes, Pitt had to face the truth. The line between right and wrong wasn't the only line being skewed, as of late. He knew Dutchy could feel it too. It was obvious. Had been written all over the boy's face, in their scattered moments of shared defiance. It was growing. And Pitt hated Roedel for that -- hated the other because he'd managed to fill him with a craving for something he wasn't supposed to want. Something he'd never get, unless taken by force. Dutchy was too pure. Too much of a little do-gooder, an educated church-boy...unlike Pitt who relied on animal instinct to survive.

"Come on, Dutchy...where the hell are ya?" Muttering with irritation, Pitt rubbed at his skinny thighs, attempting to ease the cramps that were beginning to form in his tensed muscles. He'd been sitting back on the heels of his boots for some time. His patience was wearing thin. Roedel should've wandered back this way half an hour ago. He'd only gone off to survey the woods -- to find a place for them to set up camp, further down the river and away from the scuffle.

Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Pitt lifted his pale gray eyes toward the darkening sky. What if something happened? What if Roedel had gone off and gotten himself shot or killed? A dull ache seized his chest. For a second, it felt like something inside him was being twisted, right beneath the ribs. It was a foreign pain. One he wasn't able to classify. Then, as quickly as the dismal thought formed, Pitt forced it back out of his mind and plucked at a long strand of grass, placing it between his teeth. He chewed nervously, his full pink lips drawing together in a sullen pout around the slender stalk. If anything happened to Roedel, he was gonna be pissed... But only because the boy had bitten the dust, before he'd had a chance to even the score.

From a distance came a faint snap. Then another. Branches. Cracking beneath the weight of footsteps. Advancing, carefully, through the foliage. Pitt craned his neck, peering from beneath the rim of his hat, until he was finally able to make out Roedel's shaggy mane of auburn hair through the leaves. His mouth curled into a sneer and he spat out the blade of grass, reaching for the pistol, slung low on his bony hip.

If he didn't already know better, Pitt would have thought the boy was vacant-headed. The _expression on his face was dreamy, as he made his way closer. Roedel looked more like a child, than a soldier. Soft. Wide-eyed. Pretty, even with the stubble on his cheeks. The anticipation was almost too much for Pitt to bear. He'd been waiting there for what seemed an eternity. Just a little closer now... Come on.

When the boy was only a few feet away, Pitt sprung from his hiding place, leaping over the shrubbery at Roedel. The weighty pistol clutched in his slender hand, Pitt took aim at Roedel before the other even knew what was happening. "Hold up now, Dutchy."

Roedel froze in his tracks, and then blinked his eyes in the dying light. Confused for a minute. "Pitt? Jesus, you scared me. What are ya doing?"

"What's it look like, eh?" He strode forward, cockily -- the gun extended, pointed at Roedel's head. A sardonic grin split his gaunt face, as he positioned the tip of the gun just beneath the other boy's chin.

"You gonna shoot me, Mackeson? That it? Over some stupid argument?" The boy wet his thin, curvy lips anxiously. Big eyes stretched open, registering the fear he did such a good job of hiding with his calm, rational tone of voice. "I know ya never liked me much, Pitt... But, that day in town, I was only doin' what was right. Wasn't nothin' personal."

Pitt mimicked the other, repeating Dutchy's last two sentences with sarcasm. Sliding the pistol down over Roedel's throat, he laughed out loud, "Who says there's gonna be any shootin'? Now git yer ass over there...against the tree." Pitt nodded his head in the direction he wanted the boy to walk. "An' take it slow. Dontcha go doin' somethin' smart."

Warily, Roedel began to ease backwards through the tangle of weeds and grass, until his back was pressed against the tree's roughened trunk. "Pitt..."

"Shut yer hole, Dutchy. I gotta ask ya somethin'." Mackeson stepped closer and flipped his long, windblown hair back over his shoulder. His face only inches away from Roedel's, expression becoming more serious. "Ya ever been with a woman, Dutchy? Ya know...ya ever put yer thing in her?"

"What?" A slight smile twitched at the corners of Roedel's mouth, as if he thought Pitt was joking. "My thing?"

"Yeah. Dutchy...yer dick... I wanna know if yer a boy or a man. 'Cause ya sure as shit look like a virgin ta me." He tilted his head to the side, watching the hot red blush spread over Dutchy's face. "Ya ain't never done it, huh?" The boy shrugged helplessly and shook his head, indicating that he hadn't.

"Didn't reckon ya ever had. How 'bout that friend of yers? Jack? Ya ever let'em tug ya off, 'fore he croaked?"

"Jesus Christ, Pitt... What the hell are ya askin' me this stuff for? It's gettin' late... The others will be lookin' for us soon. Let's just go. Put yer gun down, an' let's just GO." Roedel's voice cracked as he spoke, his distress plainly visible.

Glaring, Pitt clenched his jaw, "ya know why I'm askin'...ya ain't stupid."

"Can't say I do, Mackeson. Ya wanna scare me? Fine. Ya done went and did it, already."

"That ain't all I wanted." Pitt snapped, voice bitter as he ran the gun's barrel down over the crotch of Roedel's sagging brown trousers. "Git yer pants off, Dutchy. Do it...do it NOW."

Roedel's entire body tensed noticeably, as the hardness of Mackeson's pistol pressed against his balls. Sucking in a deep breath, he glanced at Pitt with surprise, frightened by what he saw. "Ya want me to drop my pants? Well then, ya best move that gun, 'cause I ain't gonna have ya blowin' my balls off."

Nodding in agreement, Pitt lowered the pistol and took a step back. Watching intently as Roedel slipped the worn suspenders off his shoulders and began to open the front of his own trousers, fingers trembling. The boy's eyes remained fixed on Mackeson, as his pants crumpled down around his boots.

"Aww...that's nice, Dutchy." He mumbled, gathering the hem of Roedel's soiled white shirt in his hand. Yanking it upward over Dutchy's smooth, boyish chest as he moved in close again. Close enough to feel Roedel's hot breath against his skin. Without further hesitation, Pitt crushed his pillow-like lips down over Roedel's mouth and forced his tongue inside. Lapping at the boy's warm saliva, seeking out his tongue. Taunting it with his own. His free hand wandering lower, until he found Roedel's dick.

Pitt moaned against the other's mouth, fingers clasping around the sweat-sticky organ, as it grew stiffer in his hand. It felt good. So good that Mackeson hardly noticed when Roedel raised his arms and twined fingers through his hair. Didn't think to shove the boy away. At least, not in time to prevent Roedel from yanking him back by the head of his hair. The sharp pain pulsed through Pitt's entire scalp, catching him off guard, making him shriek like a madman.

"Mackeson, toss the gun. I mean it. I don't wanna hurtcha." Roedel twisted a clump of hair, hard enough to render Pitt momentarily blind.

"Fuccccccck. Ahhhh. Done, Dutchy...there ya go. Take it...ahhhh...fuckin' hell." Once rid of the pistol, Pitt's delicate hands instinctively flew up to his head and wrapped themselves around Roedel's much thicker wrists, in an attempt to pry the other's fists away. Stomping his boots against the ground, he spit out a stream of obscenities. "Git off me... Goddammit, Dutchy. Git off!"

Finally, Roedel relented. Giving up the wads of hair wrapped around his hands, in favor of a firm shove. Pitt faltered and fell to the grass with a soft thud, then raised himself up on both elbows. He scowled up at Roedel, as the boy pulled up his pants and ambled over to where he laid, kicking the pistol out of his path, on the way. Much to Pitt's amazement, Dutchy straddled his waist and stared down into his face. "You hate me."

Mackeson didn't respond, but glared indignantly.

"If I let ya go, ya gonna be good?" Roedel brushed the hair back off Pitt's face affectionately, and waited for a response. What he received instead of an answer was a blow to the chest. Ineffectual. Done more for instigation than to be threatening. Irritated, Roedel struggled to restrain Pitt's skinny arms, wanting them pinned down and out of the way. But the man resisted -- bucking his sinewy body between Dutchy's thighs. The two of them tossing and writhing on the cold, hard ground, until Roedel caught him across the face with a closed fist. Jaw aching, Pitt winced and sighed with defeat, blue eyes holding gray, "Dutchy..."

This time, it was Roedel who bent down and claimed his lips. Tentatively at first, gaining confidence when Pitt opened his mouth and welcomed the boy's probing tongue inside, sucking it, as he grabbed the back of Dutchy's head with his hand. Pulling him tighter, while brushing the back of his other hand across the strip of exposed skin along Roedel's waist. He could feel the boy's stomach quiver beneath his fingers. Did Dutchy want this as much as he did? Need this? He snaked his hand down into the other's trousers and groped around until he had Roedel's balls, pliant and tacky, in his palm. Fingers massaging, tugging on the dangling sack, before working their way up over the other's hot, reddened dick.

A low groan catching in his throat, Pitt twisted his head to the side, tearing his mouth away from the other's, rubbing his thumb over Roedel's pee slit. Smearing dribbles of warm cum across the fat, cushiony head. On impulse, Pitt brought his cum-slick fingers to his lips and sucked. Drawing the digits deep into his mouth, he closed his eyes to better savor the taste of the salty fluid on his tongue. "It's so good, Dutchy... Ya taste so good. Ya need to try it...here..." He reached for the boy's cock again. Wrapping his fingers around it, milking a long string of ooze from the tip, as they both watched.

Pitt swiped at the cum with one finger, then raised it to Roedel's soft, rose-colored lips, brushing it over the subtle curves until the boy's mouth was glistening. "Go on and lick it..." He urged, his voice tight -- strained with arousal and anticipation.

Obediently, Roedel flicked his tongue over the gloss, sampling his own semen as Pitt watched in awe. His own cock jerking against his taut abdomen, lips parting to gasp as he gave Roedel's dick another firm squeeze. "I want it in me, Dutchy. Want yer dick in my ass." And he did. Though Pitt hadn't set out to be taken, he knew it was what he wanted... To be Roedel's first lay...

The boy's eyelids were at half-mast, brilliant blue just visible beneath his dark, auburn lashes as he stared down at Mackeson. "Jesus...Pitt...I wanna..." Roedel trailed off, too flustered to finish his statement. Instead, he wrapped his own hand around Mackeson's and the two moved together, stroking up and down Dutchy's rigid length. Slow and steady at first, pace quickening, as they grew more excited. Until Roedel was whimpering shamelessly, thrusting his hips into their pumping fists.

"Urgh...hold up there...lemme git my clothes off."

Roedel sat back on his haunches, his dick jutting obscenely from the opening of his trousers, while Pitt yanked off his boots and squirmed on top of the grass -- wiggling out of the worn pants and shoving them aside with his foot. Breath coming in ragged spurts; he rolled onto all fours, his long, fat cock bobbing between his thighs. Dark hair spilling over his shoulders. "C'mere, Dutchy...git behind me."

His view obstructed by his lengthy tangle of hair, Pitt concentrated on the faint noises around him, as he wet his lips and waited. Listening to Dutchy's rasping breath, mingling with the soft whisper of leaves, swaying in the early evening breeze. The sound of twigs, crunching beneath the other boy's knees, as he crept up behind Mackeson's bare ass.

The warmth of Roedel's hand radiated against Pitt's knobby back, as he steadied himself and began to cram his dick between Mackeson's smooth, white cheeks. Clumsily. Groaning with frustration as he pressed against the tight pucker, trying in vain to stretch the small pink mouth open. The dry friction burning and pinching their skin. "Pitt, it ain't goin' in too good. Do somethin', would ya? Open yer hole."

"Go on and spit on me. It's gotta be wetter. Fuck, Dutchy. Do it already." Mackeson growled and arched his back, dropping down on his elbows. Inhaling the scent of damp earth, as he pressed his forehead to the dirt.

When the first hot glob of saliva splattered against his asshole, Pitt shuddered, feeling the slow trickle glide down his crack and over his balls. "Ahhhh....goddamn...ohyeah, Dutchy...poke yer finger in me now."

With one determined motion, Roedel stabbed his finger deep into Pitt's ass, burying it to the knuckle, hard and swift. Unable to control his response, Pitt yelped out loud at the sudden invasion. Muscles panging as he drove back harder against the other's hand, wanting even more. Tensing every time Dutchy wriggled his finger against the hot membranes inside. "Does it feel good?"

Pitt nodded, barely coherent, as he reached between his legs to grab his own throbbing cock. "Yeah, Dutchy, it does. Feels real good. Now do it to me with yer dick."

Heeding the command, Roedel pulled his finger out, causing Pitt's empty hole to wink with the sudden loss. The boy grabbed the base of his thick cock, and aimed the tip at Mackeson's pucker. Rubbing against the pink, wrinkled skin. Grunting and pushing until the mushroom-shaped head finally popped through the tight ring of muscle.

A knifelike pain shot through Pitt's body -- from his abused orifice straight up through his gut. For a second, it felt like he would split in two. His asshole was stretched so wide it burned. But he didn't care. Perspiration gleaming on his pallid face, Pitt slammed back on the other's cock, grunting like a stuck pig. Hair flailing wildly as he rode hard on Roedel's dick, hot tears stinging his eyes. It hurt, but it was bearable. And after awhile, the searing pain in his bowels dulled to little more than an uncomfortable stitch.

Clutching at Pitt's narrow hips, the other boy shifted, altering the angle of his thrusts -- unknowingly prodding Mackeson's gland with the tip of his cock. Wracking his body with violent waves of pleasure. Ohgod...what was that, anyway? Pitt didn't know it'd feel like this...so good.... He almost forgot to breathe...

"Arggh...Jesus...hot...ohfuck...Pitt..." Their movements became frantic. Bodies slapped together. Skin against skin. Roedel's heavy balls tapping against Pitt, as they swayed to and fro.

Mackeson pumped his dick faster, fingers tightening around the slippery girth, as he felt himself expand further. Aware that his own balls were drawing up closer to his rocking body, "Dutchy...ahhh...I'm gonna blow it... Do it harder, come on... Oh...ohyeah...that's it...jist like that." Pitt clenched his eyes shut, mouth gaping as his cock began to pulse in his hand. Howling, he spit ropes of cum out onto the grass. Choking for air as the intensity of his orgasm caused his lanky form to convulse.

While he struggled to catch his breath, Roedel exploded deep in his gut. He could feel it. Feel Dutchy's hot cum bathing his insides. Hear the boy moaning behind him, as the thick load filled his ass. Even after he'd emptied himself, Roedel continued to move. Slowly. Until his dick grew limp and he finally slipped from Mackeson's slacked hole. Warm fluid dribbled from Pitt's sore, puffy opening as the other bent down over his back.

"Git off me." Pitt huffed, nudging the boy. "I kin barely hold my own self up." It was true, Pitt's arms and legs were shaking. He felt about ready to collapse. And as soon as Dutchy rolled off on to the ground beside him, Pitt did just that. He sprawled out atop the ground, listening to the sounds of night. Of insects buzzing nearby, crickets chirping. Muffled voices in the distance. Neither Roedel or Pitt spoke, for what seemed an incredibly long stretch of time. It was Pitt who broke the silence, "ya okay, Dutchy?"

"Yeah. I'm fine...that was jist...sorta...surprisin'." He stammered, turning his head to hold Pitt's gaze.

Cackling at the unexpected remark, Mackeson inched nearer, resting one half of his body on the other's, as he smirked, "You and me...we're gonna do it more."

The boy laughed, his wide-eyed stare, big blue eyes, coaxing forth the small portion of humanity that remained somewhere within Pitt. "So I guess this means truce?"

Pitt's eyes darkened, "Yeah. Fer now. But Dutchy? What ya need ta know is...this...." As if to accentuate his forthcoming words, Mackeson reached between the boy's legs and cupped the flaccid organ, lying against his warm, moist sack. He could hear Roedel draw a quick breath. "Yer mine. Yer dick is MINE. An' if I ever catch ya pokin' it in somethin' other than me... Yer as good as dead. Don't care if it's a boy or girl, neither. Ya might wanna remember that." His lush, pink lips curled back over his tobacco tinted teeth before he stood and pulled up his rumpled trousers.

Roedel gave a slight nod, searching for an appropriate response. "We're in the middle of a war, Pitt. There ain't no place around here to be findin' a woman. And aside from you, I ain't never wanted a boy. I reckon that's 'cause yer prettier than just about any woman I ever seen."

Unaccustomed to compliments, a sudden flame of heat surged to Pitt's face, burning it bright red. He adjusted his clothes, dismayed that his body was betraying him -- giving a subtle hint to the other, that he was not the monster he often appeared. He was something else. Something entirely different. "Who sez I'm jist talkin' 'bout durin' the damn war?"

Swivelling his head toward Roedel once again, Pitt narrowed his steely eyes and scowled. Cussing the boy out in his thoughts, simply because Roedel had made him want...and need. Cussing himself out, because he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Couldn't tell Dutchy what he meant, with all his cold demands. He didn't know how. Only knew how to push and intimidate. How to inflict pain. With a weary sigh, Pitt scooped his hat up off the ground and slapped at the loose dirt, before placing it back on his head. He stepped a few paces away from Dutchy and through the foliage. Mumbling as he went. "We best be gittin' back to the others."

"Hey, Mackeson?" Roedel was snapping his suspenders back up over his shoulders, when he called out. Pitt paused, without looking back, "what is it, Dutchy?"

"Me too... I mean... I think...ya like me right? So...I want ya to know, ya ain't gonna have to keep pretendin' so hard."

"Git yer ass movin', Roedel. Ya think too much. That's always been parta yer problem."

His swagger cocky as ever, Pitt made his way through the inky blackness beneath the canopy of trees, sinking his teeth down into his lower lip to suppress the satisfied grin that threatened break out over his face.

Fin.