。

Δ 。。。CHAPTER 4: Time to Farm! 。。。 Δ

。Φ 。

From where I knelt on the floor, grubby and sticky, I looked up at the boy sitting above me. He'd been panting for almost a full-minute, leaning back, head facing the roof so I could see the tanned shiny skin of those neck muscles, the line of his jaw, his clavicle by the loose hole of that black shirt. His prominent Adam's apple. His thighs were still apart, the brown leather tight, and his wilting cock was sagging over. Now in its semi-soft stage it was about as big as me at my best. This perfect male, this ideal specimen. I guess this is where all the 'good' men were hiding, by themselves in private sessions being sexy badasses.

All my senses were clogged by Dylan. His cum stained my tongue, lips and throat. His scent and cool sweat hooked into my nose. His warmth on the places of me he'd touched, in the brief moments he'd gripped me roughly. It wasn't pleasant nor was it unpleasant, but all I could taste-see-smell-feel-hear… was him. Overpowering. I licked my lips and swallowed, felt more of him going down. When the boy finally lowered his chin he looked at me, didn't turn away, and for once I couldn't guess what he was thinking. I only hoped he'd consider it worth it to keep me around – I'd be willing to whore for him if it would keep me safe, and it also didn't hurt that he was so good-looking anyway.

At the end of each breath his deep voice grumbled, a crackling fire-side voice. It was strangely erotic. I opened my mouth to say something but stopped, hesitated. What was the right thing to say right now? Pondering what angle I should take: light-hearted, challenging, sexual? Could I even be sexy to a guy like him? And if I try to act sexy, do I act sexy like a boy or sexy like a girl? He was still looking at me in that serious, thoughtful way. Still breathing out of his mouth. I tried saying something anyway.

"You alright there?" I blurted, friendly.

"Fuck you."

"Did you not like it?" I already knew that he had.

He pushed up enough to squirm his pants back up to his waist, I watched that dangly meat still dripping white as it was smooshed upward and then Dylan shoved a hand down to adjust it. Must feel crowded in your pants when you're packing. He did up the string. He wasn't talking, I wondered if he was still deciding. I was growing more anxious by each passing moment. Was he going to kick me out after all?

His mouth was hanging slightly open, he finally closed it. His dark eyes were shiny from the excitement. He cleared his throat before looking at me again, shuffling to sit back up against the wall with his forearms resting on his knees.

"You wanted to stay with me?"

"Yes." I was still on the floor, on my knees.

"Why?"

"Because I'm scared. I don't want to be here by myself." I watched him gaze across the room, frowning in thought.

"You know… I'm really not- I don't…" He struggled without making eye-contact and I watched him.

"You're not gay." I finished.

"No." He looked right at me. "I'm not. I don't want to fuck you. I definitely don't want you to fuck me. I don't even want to see your dick, man."

"But you did like it." I repeated and watched him glower.

"If you ever tried to fuck me, or show me your dick or… if you ever touched my ass…" he raised his fist, the threat left unspoken, his eyes a dangerous mix of anger and fear. The outrage is what left him unable to finish his sentence.

"I wouldn't." I said blankly, trying to convey honesty, even though this guy didn't know me from Eve. "I promise you, Dylan." I leaned forward then, keeping my voice level and sincere. "I wouldn't do those things. Before… I uh… I was just scared. I don't normally, ever, do that to people."

He didn't look away from my open expression, as if he was trying to catch me out in a lie. The scan lasted for a few seconds before he slumped back a little, begrudgingly satisfied for the moment.

"I'm not gay."

"I believe you."

"I- I just…" He struggled, not able to find the words. Looking a little stricken.

"Enjoying a blowjob doesn't make you gay, Dylan. Your eyes were closed the entire time. You were thinking about what you were feeling, not about who was making you feel that way."

He looked a little relieved at that even though a hint of doubt remained. I could see the hidden sadness. It didn't matter, I just wanted to say whatever he wanted to hear so he'd keep me around. If he'd keep me around. Dylan looked down and picked at his thumbnail for a moment, a nervous-thinking habit. I waited for a while and then crept over, going for the gentle approach.

"Hey…" I touched his knee in a comforting manner.

He snapped to, that disgust returning to his features. Shifted away from me a bit.

"You can stay, Sean. It's Sean right?" He looked at me and I nodded. "You can stay with me for as long as I let you, as long as you do what I say, alright? I'm the boss and you just do what I say without complaining or being a weak shit. That's how it's gonna have to be if you want to survive here."

"Oh my God," I couldn't help blurting again in relief. "Thank you, Dylan! Thank you so much!" He shirked away from me again.

"So starting now I'm gonna sleep. You go over to that corner" he pointed to the one by the door, far-side and opposite the bed. "and stay there. I get the bed. If you try to touch me while I'm asleep, or again, I'll kill you." He promised with a harsh gaze.

"Yes…" I shrank back on my knees "…Sir."

That seemed to appease him. Dylan turned over, faced away from me. I hesitated and then started crawling over to the door, across the smooth stone floor. When I got there and turned around the other boy wasn't moving. It was kind of cold, but he was sleeping on top of the covers. I could've asked him to throw me the blankets he wasn't using, but I wasn't going to push for anything more from him yet. Who knows if he'd change his mind by morning.

I would not sleep soundly here in the cold stone corner where I could hear monsters moving about just outside that flimsy door. The horrible shriek and clicking of spiders, the bony clinking of skeletons and those horrible groans and growls… undead walking around with drooping rotten flesh. It made me shiver. I clenched my jaw shut and breathed quietly through my nose. Dylan wasn't moving and I couldn't tell if he was asleep or just resting.

I huddled up into a ball and lowered my head, all night nodding on and off, snapping to at the sound of a monster nearby, waiting and listening before nodding off again…

"Get up. It's morning." I awoke to Dylan's commanding tone.

The first thing I saw were the laces on his leather boots, he kicked the sole of my foot, I looked up to see the strong guy standing over me. Sunlight through the crack of the door. He opened it up and headed out. I reached up to rub both eyes, outrageously tired. I forced myself up anyway, my ass was stiff and sore. Flinging around the door before it closed and seeing Dylan marching off.

"Where are you going?" My voice hitched in panic.

"To bathe. Don't you dare follow. There's food in the furnace." He yelled this over his shoulder without stopping. His voice had a natural authority to it, I realised. I watched his steps, the straightness of his back, the strength in how he carried his shoulders – I felt a little giddy.

Turning back into the house I rubbed my crusty eyes again before crouching down and opening the furnace. Three cooked pork-chops sat inside, meaning he'd prepared them while I dozed off in the corner with my head against the wall. What had he been doing in the few seconds he had to wait for the meat to cook? Did he stand still and tap his foot while refusing to look at me… or had he taken the time to study me closely while I was zonked out?

I knew that I was attractive. My friends – the ones I couldn't remember clearly – had said as much over the years we'd spent together in co-op worlds. I'm sure they had. Plus I could see it. My wavy blonde hair, a gold-blonde, and clear blue eyes. Sharp features and my well-defined dark eyebrows. So even if Dylan didn't like men… he must have admitted to himself that I wasn't bad to look at. Right?

Three meats were missing from my food bar and I'd been so tired that I didn't notice the hunger until I mentally scanned the row. I sucked the food into my extra-dimensional storage space and then willed a chop into my hand. It materialized, I took a bite of the cool stringy meat and chewed absent-mindedly. I wandered about the small room slowly, getting through one-and-a-half chops, still chewing on the second when Dylan returned to the house.

I could see droplets on his skin, that dark brown hair was darker and spikier, he ran a hand through it while sauntering inside.

"So…" I began a little awkwardly.

"We're going to work on the house today. I'm going to dig some more rooms in here and then at about midday I'm going to get more food. You're going to be collecting wood."

"A-alright." I watched him move about the house, not looking at me. "So we are building here?"

"Don't see why not." He shrugged again while bending his knees into a crouch by the crafting table. I noticed he wasn't looking directly at me.

"Cool… Guess I'll get started…" I wasn't sure how much we needed wood. Was it for aesthetics? Couldn't we just use stone if it's just for the interior? It occurred to me that Dylan probably was giving me this job so I'd stay out of his way and he'd have his space. Oh well. "Thanks for breakfast."

He grunted and I went to leave him to it. When I opened the door, hinges squeaking against the stone, he called out.

"Look out for creepers."

I headed outside feeling nervous and made sure my sword was in the easy-access row of nine, even though my first and only instinct would be to run. Run and go get Dylan. I used a wooden axe to chop up the nearby trees and after every few swings I'd stop and look around for any creeping green things. Swing-chop, swing-chop, swing-chop… this was hard work. I grunted and the tree fell down, I stopped again and looked around. No creepers.

I chopped up all the surrounding trees, gradually making a clearing. Sweat was running down my back and I thought no wonder Dylan was in such a fine shape. Gathering your own resources was exhausting. I could hear him chipping away inside when I'd stop to listen, never seeming to stop or get tired: there was that frightening mechanical image of him again, those strong arms swinging the tool without hesitation. I transformed some of the oak wood trees into oak planks and then I created a crafting bench, fixing it into the ground behind me. Then I made some sticks and another wooden axe. This crafting business isn't so bad.

After cutting down and vanishing six or seven trees I had sixty-four blocks of wood. In my mind I calculated: four lots of sixty-four oak planks, two-hundred-and-fifty-six. I could still hear Dylan chipping away inside. I leaned against the crafting table, my arms were tired. I'm sure what I had was plenty. I didn't want to look lazy, or like a 'weak shit' as Dylan had put it, but gathering more wood seemed unnecessary at this point. I could stay out of his way without being distracted by manual labour. Frowning I stared across at the grassy expanse, wildflowers dancing in another gentle breeze.

I could get food. While chopping my fourth tree a white sheep had appeared close-by and was innocently munching on grass. I wouldn't attack it, but I stared away guiltily because I knew it'd probably be dead if Dylan stepped out and saw it. Shooing it away wouldn't really be accomplishing anything. It was still wandering in view, baa-ing and pawing at the grass. That's when I got my idea.

I straightened up in delight. My food bar was going down but instead of starting on my last pork-chop I plucked out my lone red apple and took a bite. Crisp and sweet. Farming, I could do it – I'd never had to do it before but I knew the principles well enough. You uproot grass for seeds and then you hoe down dirt patches that are near water. Dylan went out to wash himself, there had to be water nearby. I took another bite of the apple before vanishing it away.

Moving out of view of the door I got down on all fours and started pulling up grass. Once uprooted the greenery vanished from within my fingers. For every five or six patches of grass that I pulled up while crawling around I got one handful of seeds. I moved around, tugging up grass and getting frustrated, dirt clogging up under my nails. I wanted about twenty seed handfuls but as the morning stretched on so did my embarrassment. What would Dylan say if he saw me crawling around digging for seeds when he'd told me to chop wood? The back of my neck and ears were flushing the more I imagined it, my pace harried, but then I just gave up with only thirteen.

I went back to the crafting table and built a wooden hoe, plucking it out of its hologram and adding it to my inventory. Then I looked past the tree-line and realised I'd have to leave the safety of the clearing. I told myself I'd be extra careful and manned the sword while stepping out into the trees. I walked around in a circular fashion, keeping the cliff in view. Jumping whenever an animal made a sudden noise nearby. I hated this – even being out in the day was frightening. What if I saw a skeleton hiding under a tree, bones plinking while it fired well-aimed arrows through my limbs? I kept looking this way and that, then suddenly I could make out the sound of water.

I didn't know if this was the same stream from yesterday or a new one. I pulled out the hoe and made my way past a couple of trees to the edge of the water. I looked around while raking down the dirt-edge of the river. Something caught my eye in the clear water: a clownfish darting along with the current. I blinked and then continued my work. When the ground was ready I buried the handfuls of seeds in each square metre of dirt. My hands were black and grimy with soil, I stepped back to admire my work and then frowned. No green sprouts to let me know that I'd done it right. I was pretty sure I'd done it right. I don't remember who had explained farming to me, but I was pretty sure this is how it was done.

I needed to clean myself. Dylan's residue had caked itself to my body in dried flaky patches. I stripped off completely and stepped into the cold running water. I scrubbed all over but could only stand the temperature for about a minute before getting out again. Dylan had stained my clothes as well but I didn't want to soak them since they were all I had. I settled for wetting the stains and rubbing the material together which sort-of worked. I had to dry off with grass – little bits of green stuck to my body all over.

As I was fitting my shoes back on I sprang up and around at the sound of horrid growling. A withered green corpse with sunken flesh stepped out from behind trees and moved toward me. It burst into flames when kissed by the sunlight and although it snarled furiously it still made for me with a single-minded hunger. I watched the brilliant fire that consumed its torso, blackening and charring the body beneath. Embers flecking off in streaks, fluttering down-wind. When it was ten paces away and I thought I could feel the warmth of the blaze, I turned and ran from the zombie. It followed with arms outstretched but was quickly left behind.

There's no reason to fear now, I told myself when I was back in our home clearing. My heart was beating not only fast but hard, rattling its cage of ribs. I could feel the fear in my eyes and the adrenaline rush coursing through my blood-stream. Dylan stepped out then and frowned at me.

"Where've you been?"

"I was… making a wheat farm. Down by the river." I said and his head cocked to the side.

"You were making a wheat farm?"

"Yeah, for food. I've already got enough wood." I watched him watch me and silently willed him not to be angry.

"I don't eat bread."

"Oh… why not?"

"Don't need to." He shrugged and looked at me curiously. "There's plenty of meat around."

"Well it's not just bread we can make with wheat. I'm sure there's other things too."

Dylan grunted then went back inside.

That was another way I could make him want me around. Sure he was fine with eating nothing but meat, and yet a cake or pumpkin pie every now and again would surely be a nice surprise. Aesthetics too, I'm good with building designs even if I'm not good with the actual gathering of resources. My style is very modern-luxury with tasteful touches. I'm sure I could do all these little things for Dylan, things he wouldn't consider worth the effort but that he'd appreciate nonetheless.

He left the door open and I peered around to get a look. The interior looked a lot more spacious, he'd been expanding in separate areas, making rooms it looked like. There was a second bed not attached to Dylan's but about four blocks away from it. Between them was a tiny alcove, one block in space, I wondered if Dylan was going to build a wall for separate bedrooms or if he'd started but changed his mind.

"Come in." Dylan said suddenly and I realised he'd been able to sense me lingering by the doorway. "I might as well show you a few things with the crafting bench. It's about time for a lunch break anyhow."

He was definitely a weird guy. Came off as brash and unconcerned but in his own way he made small nice gestures. He left me with food, he'd killed another sheep to make me a bed, and even though he promised to let me stay around he was going to teach me things anyway. Dylan still seemed on guard with me but I had said I wouldn't go rubbing against him again. If he didn't want me to. His random reluctant kindness served to intrigue me even more. He was beginning to fascinate me. I walked in, wanting to hear more of his gruff voice, wanting to be close enough to smell him, breathe the same air, eye that bulge in his pants when he's not looking and wish it was in my mouth again with my knees on the floor.

。Φ 。

AN: Thanks IncompleteKid! Thanks anon 'bored' although I hope you're not bored by my story? Thanks anon 'Guest' even though your question mark makes you look unsure as to whether this story really is neat or not. I hope you're all enjoying it and will continue to review!