V (boyxboy short stories)

Vruh-huh.

     The black-haired homo sapiens glanced back yet again. He was leaving his cave after his female partner had died in a fight for apples. Most of her hair had been pulled out and she was bruised all over, too gross to make use of the body.

     Turning frontwards, he kept walking, meat in mouth. He'd held it above fire to have it nicely prepared as to attract potential new partner. Hunting mammoths just wasn't as easy when he didn't have something to hump upon returning home.

     His fists thudded the stone ground and his feet followed, eyes taking in the surroundings. Some were walking on two legs around him, their backs hunched and arms swinging, but others, like the black-haired, didn't understand the point of it. It slowed you down and made it easier for the carnivore birds to target you.

     A massive, pale yellow rock had been rolled all the way to a cliff so that it could be climbed. The black-haired pulled himself on top of it and then climbed the cliff before continuing to walk. The stone ground there was yellow, and to the left there was a deep forest by the side of a mountain. And mountains meant caves, so the black-haired ventured in.

     The meat in his mouth was starting to make him salivate despite having eaten beforehand. But it was mammoth, his favorite, and only the memories of the hunt managed to make him smirk greedily and sink his teeth deeper in it, as to mock the piece of animal.

     Then, he saw him.

     Now, back on those days there were no standards. The way you could choose between walking on two legs or four, or humping the living or the dead, or eating animals or humans, choosing between a male or a female was the least of their concerns.

     And so he approached on his fours, straightening his back for effect and puffing his chest out. His long, ruffled hair hid his eyes and moved with each puff from his raised nose as he approached.

     The man's hair was wild and a light shade of brown. He was skinny but muscled, though not enough to be considered a hunter. Around his waist was wrapped a rag, allowing view on long, slim legs.

     The man was on his knees and elbows, focusing on picking insects from a pile of fruits. He was in front of a tiny cave, marginalized from the little group nearby that was jumping and grunting around some logs set on fire.

     When the black-haired got near enough, the other man looked up over his shoulder with glaring eyes and instantly eyed the meat, then his wear.

     He was wearing mammoth wool, which clarified his high status and power. The brunet went to cover his fruits, but then observed the man approach with the meat invitingly.

     Extending his head towards him, the brunet took the meat in his own mouth and then turned back around, placing it on the ground and getting on munching it hungrily, mud covered fingers ripping the flesh.

     The black-haired positioned himself, clawing off the rag and his wool and then gripping the butt higher and closer. The brunet kept eating while parting his legs and making himself as comfortable as possible on the soil underneath.

     When the black-haired entered, the brunet growled around the meat and then it turned into a screech as the man only went deeper. The first several thrusts were always a pain until something ripped and blood came flowing as lubricant. They may be developed enough to put a wooden spear together, but not enough to spit on their hand and stick it in.

     Grunting and puffing through the nose, the black-haired thrust quickly, leaning his chest on the brunet's back while hugging him with his long arms. The man kept eating irritated, the task much easier when the blood finally came flowing, allowing the man to slide in and out nicely.