In a world where pollution and greed have pushed humanity to the brink of extinction, fertility is one of the casualties and the biggest priority. Men must prove themselves to fertile fems. For those who are lacking, or who cease to please the women who choose them, harsh treatment follows. Two new men, Jax and Trev, vie for a place among the elite studs of a beautiful fem. Will they succeed; will the love they feel for each other survive?
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Fertile Domain
Copyright © 2011 Jude Mason
ISBN: 978-1-55487-864-2
Cover art by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books
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Smashwords Edition
Fertile Domain
By
Jude Mason
Dedication
To Jenna Byrnes, whose patience and friendship have kept me going when I wasn’t sure I could. Thank you!
Chapter One
Jax squatted behind a crumbled, vine-encrusted wall and eyed the ruins ahead. Weeds and scrub choked the streets and the pavement lifted and twisted where upheavals had shifted the earth. The rusted skeletal remains of vehicles and scraggly deformed trees provided plenty of hidey-holes for rodents or bigger things. It looked like it had once been a small town. Now it was a grey tomb sprung up from the surrounding forest. Some of the buildings still stood, although the majority had major damage—parts of their roofs missing, walls and windows gone, and many leaned as though a good wind would topple them. The air smelled of death and decay.
Shifting his weight, he eased the cramped muscles in his legs and back. He pulled the bow from the top of his pack and strung it. Notching an arrow taken from the sheath at his hip, he moved again, conscious of the slight scraping sound his leather boots made. Rising, he peered closer into gaping black doorways and through glassless windows. The early evening light was bright enough for him to move ahead without difficulty, but he disliked going into a new town without at least some scouting first.
He glanced upward. The sky was clear for the moment. But in the not too far distance, great heavy clouds darkened the landscape. Rain fell in sheets behind him. Lightning flashed. He needed to get under cover.
“Damn,” he muttered. Moving ahead, he kept to the shadows when he could. Darting into the first ramshackle building, he quickly raced for the next when he spotted human remains in the corner—a family by the looks of it. Nothing left but a little skin and a lot of bones.
He clambered over enormous blocks of cement, dust pothering up around his shins. He skirted a wall, heading for a doorway as quietly as he could. Bow at the ready, he peered inside. He saw nothing.
He reached out with his senses for any movement or noise that would indicate he wasn’t alone. The roof had fallen in on part of the first room. Making his way deeper into the building, he saw another gaping doorway. He stopped just outside and listened. Nothing moved, so he stepped inside. Rustling sounds came from the far wall, and he quickly turned toward them, bow raised. A family of rats, as large as old world house cats, scrambled for cover. Debris littered the room. Checking the ceiling, he thought it looked solid enough. At least he’d be dry, or semi-dry. Very few roofs didn’t leak.
Pushing some of the refuse to one side with his foot, he cleared the corner farthest from where he’d seen the rats. He unstrung his bow and leaned it against the wall, close at hand with the arrow next to it, while he slid his pack to the floor. He arched his back and stretched for the first time since donning the cumbersome carry-all that morning. The loose jerkin stuck to him, sweat trickled down his back and sides and had darkened the leather around his waist where his tool belt held the material tight. Knife, compass, med kit, sidearm with fourteen live rounds left in their little sleeves, and a small leather bag half-full of hardtack and roasted meat. He’d been lucky. Three days ago, he’d found a cave where the hunting was good, and the berries ripe enough to be almost palatable. Two malformed hares and time enough to dry the berries, he’d then pound them into half of the meat, gave him supplies to last nearly a week.
He nudged his pack closer to the wall with his toe and squatted in front of it. Once he had it opened, he dug out the small pouch where he kept his flint and steel and the bundle of dry tinder. Reaching out, he snagged several pieces of finished wood and wondered what they’d been before they were broken.
A few minutes later, he sat with his back against his pack, a small fire warming him. The wind was picking up, and in no time, it howled through the empty building, sending dust and debris whirling into the air. Jax was used to it, and after noticing he’d picked lucky—his corner was out of the main draft—he settled into making his dinner. A chunk of hardtack first, and he hoped he had enough water to wash it down. He pondered setting out traps for a rat or two, but decided against it. He still had meat, and he’d finish that before going after more.
Unstrapping his water bottle, he took a tentative drink from the half-gallon jug. The tepid water was still good, but the jug was nearly empty and he had no idea when he’d get the chance to fill it again. He drank a little more, then put the stopper back in and refastened it to his pack.
Acid rain began. At first, it was a gentle hissing sound tapping on the roof, but it quickly intensified and sounded more like a thousand tiny feet stamping overhead. He smelled its chemical stench and knew he’d be inside for a while. He’d just gotten comfortable with a small piece of rabbit in his hand when he heard a noise from the main part of the building—a scuffling sound he knew was too heavy for the rodent population to make.
He wolfed the meat down, barely taking the time to chew it, and reached for his single action Colt .45. He kept the handgun in good repair for just these kinds of circumstances. Not many people had them, so he had the edge, usually.
Deftly he thumbed one of his precious cartridges into the chamber, and flicked the action closed with a snap. Rising slowly, he crept closer to the doorway, all of his senses in high gear. Reaching the entrance, he dropped to one knee and peered around the jamb, searching for whatever had made the noise. The roof leaked in dozens of places, and small pools of liquid dotted the grimy floor, reeking to the broken rafters.
It took him a few seconds to locate the noisemaker. He lifted the muzzle of the .45 and grimaced. Across the room, what looked like a bundle of rags lay on the floor, just inside the door. The pile moved. A tanned, well-muscled arm reached out, the hand scrabbled at the floor and the fingers clawed at the debris. A moan reached him.
He inhaled, catching the stink of chemicals and burning cloth, and worse. He glanced outside and saw a dog lying a few feet away. What remained of its coat was matted, and the exposed flesh was blackened, burned.
Jax watched for a moment, deciding what he should do. The man was most likely a traveler like himself, looking for the same thing he was. But he could be dangerous, very dangerous. Starving men, even bands of them, roamed what remained of civilization, taking what they wanted and destroying whatever they didn’t.
Another moan set him into action. He lowered his gun but didn’t unload it, and approached the man. The cloth covering the man’s back and legs smoldered, but the exposed flesh and the dark mop of shoulder length hair seemed undamaged. Beside him lay a pack very similar to the one Jax carried, but it wasn’t as well rounded. That meant the man had few provisions. He did have a water bottle that looked clean, and was hopefully full.
“Help me,” came a soft, demanding voice. The man’s head rose, and a dirt smudged face with a pair of deep set, brilliant blue eyes turned his way—pained eyes, beseeching eyes that somehow urged him to a decision.
Jax squatted beside the man, taking stock of him and his gear. He was thin, but not emaciated, so possibly a little food would bring him around. On his belt he carried a compass, a long knife, and two pouches, of which Jax couldn’t guess their contents. Neither was large. His clothing, although ragged, might have been functional before the rains. His boots, however, were almost new, and that was the deciding factor. Good footwear was essential, clothing was necessary, but it didn’t have to be pretty.
Sliding the .45 into his pocket, he reached down to help the man up. It was much too easy, and when he finally stood straight, Jax understood why. He wasn’t as tall as Jax’s six feet, possibly six inches shorter and had a very slender build. With his arm wrapped firmly around the man’s waist, they made it into the safer, drier back room. Easing him down beside the fire, Jax went back to retrieve his pack, and anything else he might have dropped.
Beside the pack was a bow, much like his own, but he couldn’t spot a sheath or any arrows. He grabbed the pack by the straps and, after a quick check around, went back to his little sanctuary.
Entering the room, he found his guest sitting cross-legged and his hands held out to the fire. He’d taken off his outerwear. “Thank you.” The man’s voice was stronger. “I ran one hell of a long way to get here before the rain set in.” He turned, and again those piercing blue eyes focused on him. “You have food?”
The bluntness might have been out of place a thousand years ago, but in the world of pollution and acid rain, it was the norm. Survival wasn’t assured. Men died easily. They were expendable. It was the women who weren’t. Jax shrugged that thought away and replied, “Yeah, I have food.” He nodded to the man’s pack and the bottle hanging from it. “You have water?”
A smile crept across the mud-dabbed face. “Yeah. I crossed a creek on the way. It’s clean.”
“Good.” Jax went to his pack and unfastened the small bag holding his food. Going to the opposite side of the fire, he handed it over and settled down. “Name’s Jax. Yours?”
“Trev.” He took the bag, and with no further ceremony, dug into it. When he pulled out a small slab of rabbit, he eagerly sank his teeth into the light brown meat. Sharp teeth and grimy fingers tore a chunk off and the sigh of pleasure came from knowing he wouldn’t starve, not that day at least.
Jax had felt the same, on numerous occasions, so he smiled at the man. “You from here?” he asked when Trev had chewed and swallowed a few more morsels of meat.
“From the crèche north of here. Been out for nearly two years, but never seemed to go far. Had a few run-ins with men who thought I’d be easy prey because I’m not huge. As you can see, I did okay. You?”
“South. Two weeks walk, I reckon, if you walked it straight through.” He allowed his eyes to take in the slender man facing him. Lean, but with hard muscles beneath the tattered clothing, he was well worth looking at. The shirt might have been red at one time, but was now threadbare and a pale orange. His jeans had holes in the knees. “I’ve been heading north for about two months. Wanted to check out the countryside. Animals are coming back. Saw a pack of wild dogs yesterday. Got a rabbit the day before.”
Trev dug a piece of hardtack out of the bag and gnawed on it, finally freeing a marble-sized chunk. Chewing, he sat looking thoughtful for a moment. “There’s a breeder looking for males inside the walls at the southern edge of the city. She’s young, and from what I’ve heard, good looking.”
“That’s where you’re aimed for?” Jax reached for his food bag. It was much lighter when he palmed it. Thoughts of trapping a rat or two crossed his mind again, but only for a moment. Rabbit was better, and maybe he’d find better game. “Water.”
Trev nodded, pulled the bottle loose, and handed it over. “Take your fill.” He rubbed his belly and smiled. “Yeah, I’m heading for the fortress. I heard tell that tomorrow she’ll be looking at new men. I plan to be among them.”
Unscrewing the cap, Jax nodded, then drank deep. The water was fresh and sweet, much better than the stale lot he had, and he savored it as it slid into his stomach. Dragging the back of his arm across his mouth, he capped the bottle and handed it back with a quick, “Thanks.”
Trev’s hand brushed his and he glanced down at the smaller one, the fingers shorter but strong looking. He didn’t pull away, neither did Jax. “It’s going to be a cold one, what with that rain and wind.”
Trev’s eyes found his and both men smiled. “Yeah, I know,” said Trev.
“You have a good blanket or bag?”
“It was before it got wet. Don’t know what the rain did to it.” His smile broadened and he pressed his hand even more firmly against Jax’s. “You?”
“Mine’s a good bag, and it’s dry.” He released the water jug and sat back, giving Trev time to get a good look at what he had to offer. The room grew dim and Jax peered across the room at the lone, boarded up window, its broken panes filthy with years of sludge. Through the wooden slats, the sky had darkened. Rain beat heavily down on the roof and hissed on contact. The fire crackled between them, needing more fuel, but was bright enough nonetheless. He was already getting hard. Just thinking of the smaller man sharing his bag was enough to bring back memories of men he’d had sex with over the past couple of years. In the crèche, they were encouraged to explore and enjoy the company of their age-mates. There was no guarantee any of them would have anything but male companions. When he left, or had been tossed out, even that release was mostly denied him. He assumed it was the same for Trev.
“Do you want to share?” Trev asked, his voice trembling.
Jax lowered his eyes, and saw the nice bulge showing between his slender thighs. “Yeah. When I like someone.” He glanced up and caught the other man’s eyes. “And I like you.”
Trev got to his feet and skinned out of the rough shirt, letting it drop to the floor. He shivered, his tiny flat nipples tightening. “I’ll get some more wood before we bed down.” He turned and stepped out of the ring of light, gathering wood from the mounds of wreckage in the center of the room. Jax noticed a jagged scar on his back, running from his right shoulder blade halfway to his waist. It was old, but looked like it had been pretty serious when it was done. He made a mental note to ask about it.
Pulling himself to his feet, Jax cleared a larger section of floor close to the wall. His bag would hold them both comfortably, and as he spread it out, his erection pressed firmly against the crotch of his jeans. Deftly, he squeezed his cock. A shudder gripped him. Anticipation made his skin crawl and he eagerly shucked his soft leather jerkin, tossing it to the head of the dark blue double bag. He turned and stretched, knowing that would emphasize his size and the muscular chest he knew was a turn on for most men. The sparse thatch of coarse dark hair across his chest didn’t hide his nipples, which he was sure were darker than his newfound playmate’s. A thin trail of it ran downward until it disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
Trev added a few sticks of wood to the fire, leaving the rest within easy reach. Then rising, he watched for a moment, before he too reached for the fastening of his jeans. Together, both men unbuttoned then unzipped. Jeans pushed down to knees, then both of them dropped to the floor where they pulled off their boots, Jax’s older, more worn pair, and Trev’s fine, new pair. Neither wore socks or underwear, no one did, so the squirming out of their jeans left them naked and eager.
The wind howled and sent them scrambling for the sleeping bag. Jax held it open for the smaller man, and managed to steal a stroke along Trev’s back and ass as he slid in. A moment later, his thigh slid along the smooth, nearly hairless chest. A hard nipple scraped his hip and down side, and Jax shuddered. When he eased down further, their bodies rubbed full length along each other, sending a wave of goose bumps racing over his flesh. His cock throbbed.
“Been awhile,” Jax murmured, easing onto his side.
Trev faced him, one hand cradling his head, the other beneath the cover. “For me, too. Most men want to fight as soon as they see me.”
“Yeah, I know. Same.” The bag was still cool, but from experience he knew it’d warm up fast. Raised onto his arm, his hand cupping an ear, he gazed at the boyish face before him. Those blue eyes were like magnets, and he got lost in them for long moments. When he could tear his gaze away, he focused on the entire face. The nose was long, with a sharp bump in the middle. Lips, full and rimmed with a ragged day’s growth of beard, looked meant for kissing.
They were close enough for Jax to feel the other’s hand moving at his groin. The slow, steady rhythm of masturbation pulled the bag tight against his back. He reached down and his hand brushed a hard stomach. Pushed lower, his wrist nudged the round dome of the man’s cock. Fingers touched. When he ran his fingernails lightly across the moist head, Trev sucked in a lungful of air. “Fuck!” he whispered. “Been way too long.”
Even in the darkening room, Jax saw how flushed Trev’s face became. “Let me.” He eased his hand around the man’s cock. Soft outer flesh, hot against his palm, slid deliciously over the hard inner core. Jax masturbated him for no more than a few seconds when he shuddered at the touch of a strange hand around his own stiffened prick. His breath caught in his throat. The feeling of another hand on his cock always took his breath—always felt so much more than when he touched himself. “Yes,” he hissed, and pushed his hips forward. His toes curled.
Both men gasped, their hands expertly toying with each other’s cocks. Fingers tightened, thumbs scrubbing moist, pre-come soaked crowns, sending shudders of pleasure through the other. Minds numb of anything but the release each sought, mouths agape, eyes fixed on nothing. He felt his balls move higher, closer to his body, and the skin crinkled in response. Blood pounded in his ears. His heart hammered so hard he was sure it was going to burst.
Jax leaned down, the other man’s hand forced from his shaft, while he slid his mouth over the slick head of Trev’s cock. The taste sent a shiver of excitement through him. Twirling his tongue across the smooth tip, he flicked it back and forth, driving yet one more groan from Trev.
“Come back here,” the smaller man growled, his hands pulling at Jax’s hair.
Relenting, Jax straightened up, and again reached for the cock he’d slathered with saliva. A hand found his, and in only a matter of moments, he was desperate to come. “Faster,” he panted, his voice deadly rough, urgent. Clenching his ass, he pushed forward, then drew back, mimicking the speed he needed. The hand around his cock tightened, but didn’t speed up for too many heartbeats, just kept that steady rhythm that was driving him insane. When he was ready to scream, instead he growled, “Please!”
“Yes, faster, please,” echoed his tormentor, and increased the tempo of his fist. The soft slapping sound of foreskin hitting fist intensified. He grunted his satisfaction, then gritted his teeth as his climax grew closer. Every muscle in his body clenched, yet his fist kept up that beautiful stroke, dragging his slender lover along with him.
“Now, hard, fuck,” he snarled and shoved his hips forward. An agonizing moment of breathless need gripped him. Everything else but that moment of painful pleasure stopped, vanished. Blissful release and a blast of come erupted.
From a million miles away, he heard Trev shout his own orgasm. Gasping, grunting as each separate blast of ejaculate spewed and landed on the others’ belly, the men luxuriated in one of the few pleasures they had. Stroking slowed, but didn’t stop until discomfort set in, and even then they continued to hold each other by the cock. They lay quietly for a few moments, regaining their breath and listening to the rain hitting the roof.
“Thanks,” Trev mumbled and, letting go of Jax, reached for his ragged shirt. He cleaned them both, wiping the dribbling come from first Jax then himself.
“Yeah, you too.” Jax gave the man’s cock a gentle squeeze before releasing it. He licked the slick come from his hand, and sighed with pleasure at the rich taste of it. “We better get some sleep. Don’t think we need to take turns on watch. This rain’ll keep most indoors. Those out, won’t be causing us trouble.” He rolled onto his back and dragged his clothes into a pile under his head.
“I’m a light sleeper anyway. Nothing’ll come in here without me waking up.” Trev followed his example and pushed his clothing into a pile, then laid his head on them. He yawned and pushed himself deeper into the bag.
Jax rolled onto his side and pulled Trev close, spooning his front to the smaller man’s back. “Good, I need a good night’s sleep. Yell if you hear anything.”
It wasn’t long before Jax heard the soft snores of his new lover and smiled. Not long after that, his own eyes closed and drifted to sleep.
Chapter Two
Jax woke with a start. Jerking upright, he glanced around. It was light, just, and he watched the streaks of morning sunlight reach toward him through the damaged wall across the room, and wondered what had dragged him from his slumber. It was quiet, not even the local rodents were awake yet—or if they were, they were being unusually quiet.
That was it. It was too quiet.
Beside him Trev stirred, flung one arm over his head, then peered up at him. Blue eyes blinked, then he, too, sat up and gazed around. “What’s up?”
Jax took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the other man’s torso and chest before replying. The chill morning air had stiffened the tiny nipples and crinkled the areolas to almost non-existence. “Don’t know. Something woke me. The rain stopped.”
“It’s the city. No leaves rustling. The only noise you’ll hear around here are the rats. I’ve seen dogs and cats, too, but not many. Oh, and people. But they’re usually pretty quiet unless there’s a bunch of ‘em.” He yawned and scratched his belly. “I need to pee, le’me out.” He scooted his way out of the bag and, still naked, headed for the other room.