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Gilded Iron, Part 1

by Doran Runninghawk


* Blessed are the Peacemaker's for they shall be called the children of God. Gilded Iron chapter I Aristan, of the noble Peacemaker bloodline was wide awake. His round blue eyes with their strange starburst pupils, as always danced with mischief from the moment they opened until the moment he closed them finally in uneasy slumber at the end of the waking. He hugged his heat retaining blanket closer around his well developed shoulders, trying to capture the meager warmth of the air blowing in at the bottom of it. As with everything else Nomanic, the blanket was comfortless, utilitarian: necessary for life, or it would not exist. Much like the procreation of sons: necessary for the continuation of their kind. He pushed his highly arched feet against the scratchy weave of the vent, wondering what it would be like to be warm all over. He wondered what it would be like to stand naked in the heat of a REAL sun, instead of a contrived power unit like the one suspended inside the dome over the City. Still, he had heard his parents and others say, living with a power unit was better than trying to say alive on a world with a dying sun....a world like Ru'ul bintu Sheoli. His home world. His hand dropped lower, his long fingers encircling the thick shaft of his sin root with his pale, work callused hands, and sighed at the pleasure that stroking the already long shaft gave him. His breathing quickened as he allowed his young mind to wander touching upon first one forbidden thought, then another. In this manner, he finally allowed himself a shuddering, mind numbing orgasm. He mopped up the evidence of his transgression with a disposable cloth and pitched it into the autoclean for the house- keeper to get rid of. He had no fear of reprimand from her. The aging human crone, Hali, had cared for him from the cradle, and knew his mind almost as well as he did....just as she had his father before him. Ari had no idea how she and her brood of human younglings had come to be attached to the noble Nomanic household, but she had been with them since her own youth, and Ari was glad for it. She kept all his secrets, as well as a few of her own. Braving the cold at last, he sat up and placed his sandals upon his feet, wishing he could risk the warm stockings and leggings Hali kept hidden away for his use when they were certain his parents would not see. He ran to the window and squinted through the frosted glassine, hoping to catch a glimpse of the laserworks display which always preceded the parade of the Scorpian heir to the throne of his world on it's way to daily worship. The one thing Ari wanted more than anything at the moment, was to actually lay eyes on that most wondrous alien creature, who by capricious fate would one day rule the entirety of the Ru'ulian system, as well as the world on which they lived. As usual, he could see nothing of interest, beyond the glitter and sparkle of the laserworks preceding the procession. It was not fair that nearly everyone could boast of seeing the beauteous half alien offspring of the beloved Imperator Culpranes, under one circumstance or another. Everything about the creature who would one day sit the throne as Imperator was surrounded by mystery, but unlike the rest of his kind, young Ari loved mysteries and the mysterious, and beyond that, he loved anything alien and dangerous. The fact was that young Ari wished to be human, nothing more than human. He decided long ago he would NOT be pushed into the Position of Power within the Noman temple that his father picked out for him. How tired he was of the sameness of his life as a nomanic. He threw on his warm woolen hood and snatched up the basket of daily food offerings for the street urchins. Though his deprived belly rumbled with hunger, he was allowed nothing, but that was alright with him, because this morning they would pay well for the food and offerings of warm clothing he would hand over to them. He walked resolutely to the wrought iron gate of his home and stepped through it without resetting the forcefield that kept them all safe from the very rabble they endeavered to help nourish and clothe every morning and evening. He had no fear of any one or more of them slipping into his home....he allowed them to know telepathetically what would be done to such a transgressor. The nomanic philosophy of forgiveness, peace and love for lesser beings had completely eluded him, and he ignored thier piteous whines for succor as they pressed in on him. The ragged humans crowded around him as usual pushing and shoving and snarling, always in a most threatening manner, but they stopped just short of laying hands on him. It was known to them that he was of a 'different' nature than others of his kind, and could possibly even be dangerous. He regarded them with blue eyes that were colder by many degrees than even the bitterness of the day, their starburst pupils large and black in the dim light. His smile drove them back further. He would distribute the offerings to the human animals, wishing fervently he could keep even a little of it for himself. He would distribute the items, though.....not out of any sense of loving or giving, but because it suited him to watch them scrabble and fight for each item and morsel....because he wished to listen to their rough oaths. Just once he wished to join them in their roamings of the streets of the city. He desired to experience the satisfaction of hearing obsceneties spew from his mouth to shock and horrify those around him. He wished to lay hands on another being without restraint, or threat of reprisal. He was interested in death...and other things. Ari stepped into the street with his head held arrogantly high, assessing the youth and beauty of two of the urchins in particular he had picked out last waking. They were new to the area, and anything new was also of interest to him. As always, if the creatures wanted what he had, they would have to beg for it....they had to come to him on their knees. His stellar eyes took in the way they moved toward him with their clawlike hands extended, that they could snatch at the warm offerings and the food they depended upon his kind for. With a large white hand he beckoned forth a young male and a female. He then stepped back into the still darkened doorway. The two youthful humans hesitated.....sensing what his own people did not. They seemed to be aware that he was not like others of his kind, and that the nomanic philosophy of peace and love for lesser beings had somehow passed him by. Not that he had actually harmed them in any way, he had refrained from laying his white hands on them with violent intent, only because of his own youth and insecurity....but as he grew older, his fears lessened and this combination of ruthlessness and physical beauty became more dangerous to those around him. "Come to me." He commanded the group as he began handing out the foodstuffs that smelled delightful even to him. He gave each a small loaf and a few dried strips of egg powder and meat, watching enviously as they began to consume the booty they shed not a tear or an hour's labor to receive. "You two" He said in a softer tone, "over here behind the wall." He smiled, proffering a little something extra for them. The two comely humans looked to be a bit older than he ,and if they were, he reasoned, would be more experienced and more willing to comply with his demands, though, all the urchins of the street seemed to age prematurely. His hand worked inside his robe as he positioned them to his liking. As they bared their genitals, he wrinkled his nose.....they stank, abominably. Their unwashed garments seemed to crawl with vermin. Ari moved his robe aside and began to stroke himself quickly, trying not to retch at the odor wafting into his face. Their mouths, with their filthy green teeth opened to receive what he had come to call his 'special blessing'. There would be plenty today to bespatter the two faces and he pummeled his cock, closing his eyes. One day he decided he would contrive a way to make them clean and do more, but today just splattering them with his jism was enough, for he had other plans. When he was finished, he straightened his robes, tossed the humans the rest of the food basket, and returned to the dubious warmth of his home. Yes, he decided, today would be different. Copyrighted material. This story may be reprinted only by the express permission of the author. Comments to: DoranIIl@aol.com

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7 Gay Erotic Stories from Doran Runninghawk

Gilded Iron, Part 1

* Blessed are the Peacemaker's for they shall be called the children of God. Gilded Iron chapter I Aristan, of the noble Peacemaker bloodline was wide awake. His round blue eyes with their strange starburst pupils, as always danced with mischief from the moment they opened until the moment he closed them finally in uneasy slumber at the end of the waking. He

Gilded Iron, Part 2

Re-entering his home, Ari hugged himself, still shivering from the delicious sensations stirred into being by his last release. He despised the human frailty of the rabble, but by the same token he also despised the strengths of his own kind. Too much of which, he reasoned, was in itself a weakness. His hand toyed ceaselessly with the chained crystal, lying in the hollow of his

Gilded Iron, Part 3

Just how damned bad can anybody's luck be, Ari, disgruntled, asked himself. He reckoned that it was as bad as anyone's luck COULD be at the moment. His blue gaze caught Scipi's for a split second and he whispered, "I wish I had brought my pistol." Scipi eyed him as though he had grown another head: it was unthinkable that he’d shot not just one Templar, but two! They would

My Brother, My Love.........

It was hot, the first part of August, and my companion, Jeff and I decided to head for my cabin on the outskirts of Fairdale Ky. Surrounded by woods and unspoiled hills and farmland, it was the perfect place to spend Jeff's birthday in peace and quiet away from the heat and the hustle and bustle of south Louisville, where we stayed most of the time. Jeff was lying on the bed

Wendigo, Part 1

Reprinted March 2000 for the erotic story archives. by Doran Runninghawk. DoranIIl@aol.com Yes, I know the story is full of inaccuracies, (called writer's license). It was written for the pleasure of the readers only, not as an historical documentary. Any comments good or bad, that you may have about this work will be answered and appreciated. Flames will be read and deleted

Wendigo, Part 2

Note: Most of this story is historically correct. Some of the cultural practices have been altered to fit the tone of the story. The nature of the characters are for the most part, fictionalized and not intended to detract from the memories of any of any actual person living or dead. PART II: The young Cherokee warrior, kidnapped from his land, and far from his people, is now the

Wendigo, Part 3

Wendigo III I Conqueror: I lead you away from the hall and the festivities there, watching as you stop and begin to cleanse yourself in a cool splashing fountain. I am tempted to join you there, but I wish more to sleep off the effects of the heavy corn liquor I have consumed with the others, while breaking the spirit of young Moctezuma. I take you in my arms, finally beginning

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