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The wild, untouched forest, whether devoid of a living soul or overflowing with them, has always been a place where people have set foot for various reasons.
Some wandered along the edge in search of mushrooms, berries, and all those delights that possess the cherished forest scent that city dwellers are not spoiled with.
Some wandered not so far, not from a good life. So that they would eventually be found, understood, and finally sympathized with, but still put forth the effort to achieve that fateful encounter.
Some retreated into the very depths. Sometimes out of stupidity, sometimes to hide the consequences of their less-than-ideal decisions, which led to horrific consequences.
But eventually, some exceptional individuals retreated into the unexplored reaches of the forest, because society seemed a burden, a cage full of bears, as ironic as it may sound.
It was in this wilderness, far from humanity, that Gelato lived, without exaggeration, his entire life. From birth, he had barely seen anyone other than his parents, although for reasons unknown and uninteresting to him, he could never remember his birth mother. And he didn't particularly need to.
And his father's death ultimately only cemented him in this place. Alone. Surrounded only by the whistling of birds and the blooming greenery.
From a young age, as soon as he managed to stand on his own two feet and his brain began to absorb information through imitation and emulation, various things began to stick in his head. How to maintain weapons, how to create new ones. How to butcher and store meat, tend a small garden behind the house, how to forage for food in general.
But beyond the qualities inherent to his species, the habits of animals, their behavior in various circumstances, the seasons, the time of day, and much more involuntarily stuck in his head. Anything that, at least in theory, could give him a chance of survival, even if he were left bare-handed.
This life suited him perfectly.
Perhaps because he knew no other, or perhaps it was best for everyone.
And this was indeed the case.
He could clearly distinguish human footsteps from those of animals. Humans moved either clumsily, overly distrustful of their surroundings, or carefree and relaxed.
No animal would underestimate the forest, nor overestimate it. It is always prepared, but knows what to expect and what to do.
Humans are too prone to panic, no matter how seasoned a forester they are.
And usually, such encounters always ended the same way. The very first moment the sight touched the intruder's skull, a bullet would fly out of the hunting rifle, piercing the back of the head with a deafening scream.
Until one not-so-pleasant day.
Gelato knew about the appearance of a new mouth in his forest long before the first brazen shots began to ring out in a pitiful attempt to feed himself.
He had no use for such companions.
Not a single shot showed a shred of respect.
Half of them, it seemed, were complete misses.
Even worse.
But something in the way the man in the army uniform moved, the way he looked around, the way he reloaded his pistol—it all seemed inexplicably familiar.
There was no apprehension in these gestures, no disdain. Instead, there was firmness, confidence, and an awareness of his own capabilities, the capabilities of his surroundings.
This wasn't a man. This was a wild animal, finally freed from its cage, recklessly unleashed into an unfamiliar environment, and therefore even more dangerous.
– Faggot. Die!
A ragged scream echoed off the walls of the forest hut from the stranger, mixing with the dull thud of dishes collapsing along with the shelves. The fastenings cracked, so great was the force with which Gelato kicked him in the stomach, sending a writhing pain through his body on both sides.
He reflexively bares his crooked teeth, seizing every moment of hesitation.
With a quick glance, he scans his surroundings for the knife he'd knocked out of his hand, then skids across the floor, grabbing the weapon and leaping to his feet.
The body seemed to assume a firm, defensive, yet attack-ready stance, allowing itself to catch its breath while the deserter staggered slightly from a serious blow not so much to the stomach as to the back, directly to the spine and ribs.
They had already wounded each other enough, limping on one leg due to a deliberate, targeted attempt to immobilize, to sever a tendon.
Moreover, Gelato could barely see, not daring to close his vision to wipe away the blood dripping from the small but deep wounds on his face.
This man was a beast.
Reckless, merciless, and cruel. This wasn't a desire to protect. This was genuine, overflowing hatred.
Gelato had never seen anything like it.
The soldier, slamming his hand against the wall and grabbing a knife hanging there, lunged forward with an animal growl.
Stupidly, aggressively, his blue eyes burned brighter than moonlight, piercing his body.
Gelato frowned, furiously bared his teeth, his gaze sharpening as he blocked two heavy attempts to stab first at the head, at the exposed cerebellum, and then at the liver.
He had already foolishly allowed himself to be wounded, a fact that was persistently reminded by the blood streaming down his face and spreading across his pants.
This man moved faster than he could react to the strange signal in his head. Faster than any creature in the forest he had encountered before.
This would never happen again.
He doesn't miss the moment the weight in his grip begins to shift, the muscles beneath his skin shifting, all too clearly signaling a shift in stance before a new attack.
But if he knew even a little more about other people, he would understand how much more than an idiot this military man was.
They fought one-on-one every day in the army. With that damned general, who looked more like a warden, they fought almost to the death.
This is just a change of scenery.
Gelato didn't expect this outcome. He couldn't react to the sudden change of plans, ending up with a knife thrust into his shoulder.
The blade sank deep near his joint, resting against the hilt. Pain enveloped his entire body, choking his throat. His arm almost numb from the pain shock.
Growling in response to the victorious glee with which the gripping knife handle jerked to rip the skin lengthwise, Gelato almost instantly grabbed the deserter, squeezing and pushing forward.
With a jerk, he dropped him to the bloody and littered floor.
Not giving the stranger even time to flinch from a second blow to the back, and with a powerful pressure from above, Gelato plunged the blade into his shoulder, driving the sharpened metal into the taut muscles.
Listening to the muffled cry and meeting resistance, also weakened by the arm that had lost feeling, Gelato immediately fell on top, immobilizing and pinning the enraged beast within the human body to the ground with all his weight.
– Did you take the knife?
– That's all I took.
The answer was more unexpected than he expected. Whether by its calm indifference or by the fact itself.
Digesting it, Gelato pauses for a second before rolling his eyes.
And how that man almost killed him.
For several months, which had flown by unnoticed, contrary to all expectations, they had been living together. They ate at the same table, slept in the same bed, because yet another fight for space suddenly seemed like not the most reasonable course of action.
He was forced to feed an extra mouth, which, on top of everything else, he felt, wasn't capable of catching even a wounded old boar.
Gelato himself didn't understand why he'd even let this semblance of a sentient being into his home.
Let in, when he'd previously shot anyone who ventured deep enough into the forest to elicit the song of the wood grouse.
But waking up every morning with legs draped over his face, while the fresh wounds on both their bodies, hadn't yet fully healed, his head went completely blank.
He'd never slept so close to someone's body before.
His father, while still alive, had always slept on the floor, and afterward, not a single living soul had set foot in this house except for a hearty meal.
Why his brain had completely shut down when a deranged, armed idiot appeared in his forest and tried to make a sieve out of his throat, he still couldn't understand.
But, after all, Sorbet didn't seem... all that irritating.
Even his name was a humorously ironic complement to Gelato's own.
Although his behavior seemed far too strange and distant for a man who, at the very first moment of their encounter, had rushed at him with a knife, as if a bear in the hut was in mating season.
He didn't speak much. But even if he did, Gelato felt a knot in his stomach.
Although, it's possible that this idiot simply picked poisonous berries.
Spoiled by society, Gelato could sense it even in his scent, in his manners, sometimes simply provoking to turn around and stab him in the chest.
Although it was hard to say that this man was the life of the party. Or that he even wanted to be.
Letting Sorbet hunt alone was the stupidest idea. He'd already nearly been killed by a bear once while trying to survive in the forest.
To his credit, he was quite successful at surviving.
But Gelato couldn't allow that to happen again.
...for a reason... he himself wasn't sure he knew.
However, he couldn't leave him at home either. He still didn't fully trust Sorbet.
Although he didn't trust himself either now, given all this emotional turmoil caused by one person who was hardly even a human.
Regardless, Sorbet's usefulness during hunting, despite his inexperience, couldn't be denied.
He possessed quick reflexes, strict discipline, and keen attention span.
Not to mention his skill and quick adaptation to the use of various weapons, both firearms and bladed weapons.
And although at first he seemed like a helpless fawn, more spirited than skilled, last Saturday this mad machine managed to take down a deer with his bare hands and a knife.
Just as young, just as noisy and furious.
Although Sorbet's obvious irritation was every time Gelato tried to teach him something or give him instructions.
They'll work on that later.
– You-
Sorbet's relaxed, somewhat carefree voice faltered, accompanied by a reflexive flinch as a hand was suddenly raised in front of his face, clearly signaling him to be quiet.
Gelato froze in place, his shoulder pressed against the tree.
Apparently, he had somehow heard, smelled something somewhere in the undergrowth.
If they could direct the animal in the right direction now, they might not even have to waste bullets, using just a trap.
The commanding tone of this silent order didn't escape Sorbet's narrowed eyes. Someone had already decided to tell him what to do like a pompous rooster. Not that it ended well.
Although he understood that this gesture was more reflexive than arrogant, it made little difference.
Gelato held his breath.
He peered out from behind an old linden tree, studying every crevice through the dense vegetation, every slightest movement and barely perceptible scent, every silhouette that might help him get his bearings.
Impatient fingers unconsciously slid along the metal of the hunting rifle, lifting the barrel, the muzzle of which had mercilessly pierced more than one head.
With a quiet exhalation, he frowned, straining his vision.
If it's a deer, he can handle it. If it's a bear, he'll have to finish it off.
– Listen.
With one slow, calculated movement, Gelato straightened up, not making a single sound from the bushes, the grass, or his own clothing.
Talking to Sorbet, clearly not intending to miss a potential dinner, he, having confirmed the stillness, turns to face him.
Without a second thought, his gaze locks onto blue eyes, which are closer than he expected. Too close.
His body reflexively, without even realizing it, jerks back, buckling until his back is firmly planted against the trunk of a cracking tree.
For some reason, the sudden, not on his initiative decrease in distance completely threw him off balance, especially when the distance between them had become so insignificant.
So much so that their noses almost bumped.
The most terrifying thing was that it happened completely unnoticed, silently.
There was no signal in his head that had haunted him since childhood.
So there was no intent to kill.
But right now, he really wouldn't mind feeling the pain in his temples.
It was precisely the absence of this threat that somehow made him tense, pressing his back harder against the rough bark.
There was no escape route.
Or rather, there was, but all the survival skills honed over the years suddenly flew out of Gelato's head.
And Sorbet seemed to either sense this, or was so confident in himself, or perhaps he simply didn't care, which was the most likely.
All three possibilities were possible. But the result, regardless of any of them, was the same: he continued to advance, pinning the hunter between his chest and the linden tree.
Blue eyes bore into him, as if, with all their characteristic audacity and effrontery challenging him to turn away, perhaps even strike, as they had done before.
Gelato did none of those things.
This wasn't his first rodeo. Even if the presence of a human in the confrontation was new.
Such confidence resonates within Sorbet.
Squinting, he leans forward, taking advantage of the slight difference in height, pressing his chest against Gelato's suddenly hardened chest, which was so tense it seemed he was on the verge of stabbing him in the body.
Again.
Surprisingly, almost even teeth are revealed as his lips part, a thin line arching above the white one. Judging by faint intake of breath, he seems about to say something, but quickly change their minds, leaving each other in familiar, tense silence.
Plunging into complete silence, they gaze into each other's eyes, studying facial features, intentions, and state of mind.
It seemed as if everything around them had plunged into deathly silence along with them, the faint echo of birdsong echoing somewhere in the treetops, rustling, and a host of other sounds one could listen to for days.
Sorbet slowly stretched neck, like a snake surveying its prey.
This infuriated Gelato even more.
A military-hardened hand slowly reached down, tracing a firm, firm breast through a layer of thick, dense fabric.
Having outlined the shape, the palm slipped under the unbuttoned coat, gently rustling as the thin T-shirt pulled around a protruding nipple, hardened by the inappropriate friction of a thumb.
Gelato winces at the touch, which turns into a caress. But eventually, out of curiosity and a desire to control what's happening, he involuntarily gives in, looking down at the hand gradually moving down his slowly rising belly.
The fingertips cling to the hem, lifting his not-so-fresh T-shirt to reveal part of his firm stomach. Fingers gently trace a path through soft, untouched hair, as unruly as the hair on his head.
However, curiosity quickly evaporated, replaced by a frown and a rising gaze. Abruptly, irritated, but eventually noticing that this time it was Sorbet who lowered his gaze.
Albeit briefly.
Almost immediately, as if sensing the moment Gelato began to gaze at the sharp, provocative face features, the curve of the nose, the thin lips tightly closed as always, Sorbet's eyes instantly lifted, unexpectedly fixating him.
But not with a glance.
An unexpected, heavy grip struck him in the head.
His legs trembled involuntarily, his knees weakening for a split second. It seemed insanely absurd what a hand could do to his body as it began to move across his pants, carefully, leisurely massaging his crotch.
The pressure only made him more irritated, especially with the tingling sensation flaring up in his stomach.
He couldn't boast of a particularly rich sexual experience.
Or even of having any.
But he wasn't an idiot either.
He knew perfectly well how babies were made, had seen animals mate, even if it was males or dominance between pouches. He knew their habits during this process, the time periods, and even the number of offspring some individuals produced.
Although, Gelato couldn't rule out the obvious differences between humans and animals, even though deeper details were obviously simply inaccessible to him given his lifestyle.
Which, in fact, he had been completely content with until the arrival of this strangely attractive man.
A man who clearly had no intention of retreating.
His thumb wandered confidently and uninvited over the silhouette, curiously tracing the contours beneath the rough pants, the space becoming smaller and smaller as the shape lengthened and thickened under his touch.
Gelato gritted his teeth against the tension coursing through the muscles of his legs and thighs, only occasionally letting out quiet sighs, unable to control the heat spreading through his body.
His thumb wandered confidently and uninvited over the silhouette, curiously tracing the contours beneath the rough pants. The space became smaller and smaller as the shape lengthened and thickened under the touch.
Gelato gritted his teeth against the tension coursing through the muscles of his legs and thighs, only occasionally letting out quiet sighs, unable to control the heat spreading through his body.
Exhaling heavily, he slowly raised dark gaze to Sorbet, who still stubbornly refused to break eye contact.
However, subtle changes were still noticeable.
A slight smirk flickered across his face, causing Gelato's eyebrows to focus, and his gaze, without realizing it, followed the blue eyes that slid downward.
Sorbet's hand pulled away, suddenly breaking the intimate physical contact in every sense. Only the longest middle finger remained, sliding along the hard uniform, like a true soldier at attention.
The pad of his finger carefully traced the even length and thickness, following the curve of the head until it reached the very tip.
He deliberately caught the spot where the barely moist urethra should've been. Applying a little force, the pressure prompted cock to rise in response to the touch.
Until the organ slips under the layers of tissue, returning uncomfortably to its original position, and Gelato shudders with a silent groan, baring his crooked teeth.
Sorbet provocatively follows suit, eagerly mimicking the reaction that made both of them feel a tightness in their chests.
His palm confidently grasps the tight pants, undoing with even more irritating ease in two precise movements the button, which had been sewn on tightly for many times, and the fly, the jingle of which was abruptly muffled by the endless expanse of the forest.
Without undue haste, he pulls down outerwear and underwear below the hips, encountering not even the slightest resistance.
With a light movement of his hand, he helps his hard cock emerge.
Many questions raced through Sorbet's head: some sincere, some mocking, but ultimately they all stuck, if not in the throat, then on his tongue.
During this time, a vague, suffocating tension had settled between them, making it impossible for either of them to utter a word even now.
Gelato stared relentlessly at the fingers tightening around his cockhead.
The sensations were... ambiguous. For many reasons.
It was unlikely he'd ever do something like this on his own. Or even consider it.
Most often, his mind was filled with the need to set traps near the house, butcher meat, tend a small garden, and simply survive.
Sorbet carefully circled the sensitive edges of the reddened glans with his hand, slightly slippery from the occasional drops of secretion. His fingertips purposefully stimulated the moist urethra, encouraging the release of as much precum as possible, the sight of which involuntarily caused saliva to accumulate on his tongue.
Swallowing, he looks up, watching the golden lashes flutter in the tightly squeezed eyes opposite him. Increasing the pressure, Sorbet presses entire body against him, so as not to interfere with hand's movements, using every possible potential, thoroughly spreading precum along the length with each movement.
A thick lump pushes from Gelato's throat, escaping in an itchy exhalation, breaking under the first full thrust on his twitching cock.
A painful knot twists in his lower abdomen, sending a migraine through him and a stiffness in his shoulders.
He shudders involuntarily from the saliva dripping onto his organ, abruptly breaking his trance. The heat burned his skin almost instantly. Opening eyelids, he quickly lowered his eyes and immediately raised them back to Sorbet, to the thin lips where this brat was painfully slowly licking the remnants of saliva with the tip of tongue, as if deliberately clinging to the edges of protruding white teeth.
A mixture of saliva and precum spread throughout his body, mingling with the heat of the entire body, sliding down with a barely perceptible tickle to his balls, which twitched with the burning sensation as the grip tightened, making the subsequent, established movements more insistent and confident.
Without realizing it, Gelato completely ignored, or simply didn't hear over the suffocating roar in his ears, the slimy, slurping sounds ricocheting off the forest floor, causing a lump to form in their throats, igniting the appetite churning deep in their bellies.
Gelato's gaze had long been imprinted on Sorbet's body, even during the first week of their perhaps not-so-forced cohabitation. No, that was definitely before.
He was sure he'd felt it back when he'd wandered the forest, hiding and sleeping somewhere in the dense bushes.
It was the gaze of a beast, no, as if the forest itself, with all its vast and unknown power, was enveloping him.
It was unmistakable.
He felt it every time those deep green eyes looked up at him.
Just like now, catching the glittering darkness opposite and immediately grasping, studying, examining the mixture of emotions within.
Sorbet can't help but grin, feeling goosebumps on his back, as if he were being enveloped by snakes.
It felt wonderful. He'd never seen or felt anything like it in anyone before.
Bending nose to nose, their breaths mingled into one condensing mass, scalding the skin. Neither looked away, like two alligators clinging to each other.
He didn't look away until Gelato broke down, his eyes rolling back from the increasing pressure on his cock.
His lips, parched from desperately breathing through his mouth, part in a stifled groan, more like a simple, painful wheeze, as Gelato throws his head back.
He winces at the splattering sounds, the heat radiating from the palm, and the merciless friction it creates. His own cock twitches pitifully, as if these touches were the best thing humanity had ever had, and the squirting precum only adds to the intensity of this reaction.
But Sorbet doesn't allow him to move, or even try, holding him firmly in place, that his military training allowed him to do, despite the contrast of their body shapes next to each other.
With deliberate effort, his hand pushed the head of the cock into the tight, damp palm he closed in an improvised ring. His wrist twisted along its length, the skin slapping dully against squeezing testicles, which Sorbet watched with a smirk, catching the gathering folds around the round, sated shape, unmistakably wasn't given much attention.
Breathing became increasingly difficult.
For both of them.
Sorbet softly growls as he presses his lips to the opposite ear, tracing the tip of his nose over the cheekbone, the taut muscles of the neck, while bushy beard, with its unkempt, thick hair and spiky stubble, tickles and tingles him in response, as if teasing.
He says nothing.
Somehow, there's no need for it. Only precise movements, exploring the enticing curves, pulsing sweetly beneath the calloused pads of his fingers.
The pressing spasms in his lower abdomen drive him mad. Gelato reflexively, without even realizing it, jerks toward the hand, which only momentarily breaks the grip. Perhaps shocked, perhaps intrigued, perhaps just assessing the force of the sudden counter-push. Sorbet adapts quite quickly, already from the second blow, forcing the body opposite to react even more sharply to overt provocations.
He caught every detail of reaction: the beads of sweat shimmering on face in the breaking sunlight, the mixture of saliva and oozing precum dripping between them, already staining their shoes. The tense muscles of the cock, the bulging veins, the clogged balls bobbed in silent warning.
His whole body could feel the mounting pressure as the strained organ rose higher and higher, pressing ever more firmly against his palm. Gelato reacted accordingly: his neck stretched out, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath the thin skin, his mouth open in silent groans and sighs.
Sorbet couldn't tear his gaze away from the increasingly revealing, enticingly ugly teeth.
Breath caught in his lungs, unconsciously licking the edges of his teeth, before his trance was mercilessly torn apart with a jerk. The grip, suddenly breaking out of nowhere, knocked him out of his kaly, plunging roughly straight into his throat, with a choking blow against his own Adam's apple, like karma.
Sorbet winced in irritation and bared his teeth at the uncontrollable, unrestrained force. No, it wasn't resistance. The grip was too... pathetic. The fingers seemed to be trying to burrow beneath his skin, scratching with nails, but the trembling clearly betrayed a genuine search for something to cling to.
This only further aroused him.
However, the thrusts didn't stop. On the contrary, they concentrated caresses on one spot, stimulating the languishing cockhead and only occasionally descending to the base with a quick jerk, loudly rubbing the pre-cum gathering at the tip, appetizingly visible against the bright red skin.
They growled in unison, scaring away the birds in the distance. Whether at each other or at the situation, they bared their teeth like dogs, until at one moment the translucent substance gave way to a thick, pale white hue.
The first, in every sense, burning impulse erupts, torn from the hips slamming into his palm. A thick, milky stream flies a short but impressive distance, with a rustling sound Gelato would never have allowed himself, falling onto the grass and leaves of the nearby bushes.
Sorbet watches each falling portion with undisguised, unconsciously sincere surprise. At first, his brows furrow, still feeling slightly dizzy from the suffocation, but then his gaze slides curiously higher, to the flushed Gelato, who, as the intense orgasm approaches its end, finally loosens its grip on his throat.
He himself hadn't come this hard, even after the army. Although such a rush was... expected, now that he thinks about it.
A man who hadn't seen anyone closer than a bullet's throw in his entire adult life...
He should have known. Now it seemed surprising that he hadn't even considered it.
In fact, now that he thinks about it, he realizes he's not exactly sure why he did it. He hadn't even jacked himself off.
A dumb situation.
But the fact that Gelato hadn't even said a word against him…
Squinting, still feeling the fingers pressing on his neck, he slowly rubs the gradually limp organ for a while longer. It continued to periodically release weak, spent strands of semen, leaving traces not only in the fist but also on Sorbet's pants, instantly soaking the thick military fabric.
Only deep, oxygen-starved sighs come from Gelato. His sweat-soaked chest heaved, pale, fluffy hairs clinging to the skin beneath his T-shirt, beckoning a peek.
Legs barely held him upright. If not for the unfortunate tree, he would have long ago been under the feet of the man he'd even allowed to touch him.
Exhaling deeply, Sorbet calmly pulls away as cock weakly twitches from the intense sensations, sending a painful tingle through the lower back and legs.
Smirking, he deliberately closes his fingers around the particularly sensitive tip, causing trembling hips to jerk one last time before pulls hand away.
As he steps, he looks down at his his shimmering palm, stained with a thick layer of cloudy liquid. Without thinking too much, Sorbet wipes it on Gelato's dark green coat.
After all, his own pants were already stained too. And not even with his own semen.
Gelato reluctantly regains consciousness. The sensations were too intoxicating, almost seeming wrong in its intensity.
Still breathing heavily, it takes him a while to find the strength to look down at his own now-flaccid cock, covered in a dripping mixture of various body liquids. It still twitched slightly, recovering from the experience, which had shocked his body more than his first gun shot as a child.
With a hiss, almost completely sober, his thick golden eyebrows once again focused sullenly in the center, his green eyes darting predatorily toward Sorbet's back, rustling the undergrowth beneath their feet, before interrupting the rustling with the click of the checking rifle's load.
His rifle, the minor theft of which he hadn't immediately noticed.
While Gelato frantically tried to regain his dignity, noticing the dark stain that had soaked into his jacket.
As he buttoned the button, a click echoed through the forest, followed by a rustling sound and a panicked howl, causing them both to freeze in place for a moment.
– A deer?
– A moose, you idiot.
Gelato growled harshly in response, as if it were the most obvious thing, and forcefully pushed Sorbet aside. He immediately headed toward the trap set last night, snatching his loaded rifle.
Sorbet frowned at the impact. Calculating strength apparently wasn't a priority for a man so excited by yet another animal in a trap.
Animal in a trap.
Yes, that seemed more like the truth.
For a moment, he languidly watched the stern shoulders creeping through the trees, hooking the rings on his pants, before a venomous grin spread across his face, a thin line flashing.
Only then did he finally follow the hunter.