/palg/ay

Sha Lin was the greatest bowman in a hundred years. He had broken every record, bested every peer, and mastered the art of archery. His skill was unmatched.
Now, he hunted a target. “The Rogue Spaniard”, he was rumored to be called. It was said that he was nigh invincible, employing the use of a strange crystal to grant his body incredible toughness and resilience. The reward was sizable, nearly fifty thousand gold pieces from a lord in the eastern land. The reason for the Spaniard's bounty wasn't given, but Sha Lin had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the crystal. Perhaps it belonged to the lord, perhaps not. Maybe he just wanted it for himself, jealous of the Spaniard's reputation. Whatever the case, it mattered little to Sha Lin. What he cared about was challenging himself, striving to be better than all the rest, and carving his name into history's undying flesh as the most skilled archer in the entire world.
It had been a long hunt, tracking the Spaniard from the east to the deep jungle. But it was almost over now, all the signs pointed to this. Thick underbrush steadily gave way to his careful prowl. He stalked silently along, finding traces of his mark on random trees and fronds. He had been finding these marks all along the trail left by the Spaniard, but they were frequent in the jungle, which Sha Lin had entered three days ago. Burns on the trees and, occasionally, dark black strands of hair caught in the greenery made him certain that his mark couldn't be far now.
But really, he thought, leaving such a simple trail to follow after having such a high price put on his head. The Spaniard must be either very confident or very foolish to think that he needn't worry about pursuers.
Sweat beaded on Sha Lin's forehead, and he hastily wiped it away. The last thing he needed was something, anything getting in the way of his crucial shot. An arrow was already drawn and nocked to his bow, a beautiful creation of wood and gemstones. In the instant when he drew his hand away to wipe at the sweat, something rustled in the overgrowth to his left. Sha Lin froze. He waited for an assault, then slowly lowered his hand back down to his bow, gripping it so tightly that his knuckled turned white. This was always the most exciting part of any hunt. The climax, crescendo, culmination. The final product of everything he had poured himself into for the past month.
He crept forward, towards the source of the sound. Nostrils flared, pupils dilated, darting back and forth to catch sight of the mark that would make him a legend. The man who brought down an unstoppable titan. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, making the world appear to happen in slow motion. He came to a particularly thick clump of foliage and waited. Drawing a breath, he drew back on the bowstring and kicked at the base of the brush, knocking it away.
A clearing was revealed, free from trees and weeds. Soft grass gave way underfoot as Sha Lin quickly advanced, swinging his bow around in an arc as he searched for the Spaniard. A flash of black caught his eye, and with lightning speed, he turned to face it and loosed an arrow. It sailed through the air, a true shot, and skewered a midnight colored bird to the side of a tree.
Sha Lin wasn't aware that he had been holding his breath. Letting air back into his lungs, his hand darted to his back to retrieve another arrow. Before he found one, something happened that nearly made his heart stop.
A hand grasped his wrist as his hand closed on nothing. He was suddenly flung sideways across the clearing, losing his grip on his bow and hitting a large tree with a sickening thud. He crashed to the ground, dazed. Sha Lin lay in a heap of pain and anger, hearing footsteps approach. He looked up, grateful for the jungle canopy.
He saw a handsome face, a bit weatherbeaten and trail worn, but still robustly carved like a statue's. The Spaniard – for it had to be the Spaniard, Sha Lin saw the dark hair and knew this to be true – was dressed all in white, and carried a leather bag on his back. Sha Lin could make out a faint pulsing emanating from it. He surmised this was the crystal.
“So,” said the Spaniard, “this is the annoying fly that pesters Fernando. What do you want, fly?”
Sha Lin gathered himself, then pulled his dagger from its sheath at his waist. “Your head!” He pushed himself up, lunging for the Spaniard's – Fernando's – throat.
Fernando half smiled, then once again grabbed Sha Lin by the wrist. The dagger wasn't even close to reaching its mark. The pressure on Sha Lin's arm was increased until he was forced to drop his dagger. It fell to the ground and Fernando kicked it away. He shoved Sha Lin back into the tree.
“Is that all? I thought you must have been after something more, after chasing me so far.”
Fernando advanced on Sha Lin, cupping his cheek with a palm. “Such a pretty fly you are...”
Sha Lin was temporarily stunned, but regained his composure quickly and knocked Fernando's hand away. With a snarl, he drew back his fist and swung at Fernando's side. His arm was jarred by the impact; it was like punching stone. He crumpled to his knees, cradling his throbbing hand, eyes watering from the pain.
“That's a good place for you, fly.”
Sha Lin looked up at Fernando, who was impossibly tall. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it would be a shame to just dispose of you. Why don't we have some fun while the sun is high?”
Sha Lin stared, puzzled. Though he was skilled in hunting and archery, most of the ways of the world were still a mystery to him.
“We'll start with this!” Fernando exclaimed, reaching down and ripping Sha Lin's headband off. His hair fell down past his shoulders.
“Hey! What are you-”
“And this has to go, too.” Fernando continued, easily tearing through the light covering of cloth that Sha Lin wore on his upper body. His quiver fell away, arrows trickling out. Sweat beaded on his chest in the humidity of the jungle. Fernando bent down then, locking his lips around Sha Lin's and playing with one of his nipples. A million emotions suddenly coursed through his mind, alien ones that made his head feel clouded and strange. He could feel his internal temperature rising even more.
Fernando's tongue invaded his mouth, searching hungrily around as his chest was ravaged by rough, calloused hands. After what seemed like an eternity, Fernando pulled away.
“Now,” he said, unbuckling his trousers, “see this?”
Fernando's tumescent cock was level with Sha Lin's face, and he could smell the strong musk that radiated from it. He drew breath in ragged gasps.
“You're my mark...” Sha Lin said in a daze.
“This is the only mark you have now. Get to work!” Fernando replied as he forced his cock into Sha Lin's mouth.
At first he was too shocked to do anything, but as he tasted Fernando's member, he began to move his tongue around it, feeling even more of the strange emotions he had felt when he was being kissed. His hand raised, on it's own, it seemed, and began to stroke the cock as he began to service it. Sha Lin pumped back and forth, sucking on the cock like a lollipop. Saliva leaked out of Sha Lin's partially open mouth as he gasped for air.
“Very good, my pretty little fly.”
Sha Lin looked up and saw Fernando grinning, hands on his hips.
Fernando pushed Sha Lin off of his cock, knocking him to the springy undergrowth of the jungle.
“But it is about time for the final act,” he said, kneeling, and removed Sha Lin's pants now.
Sha Lin's own cock was fully erect by now, but he hadn't even noticed. It was noticeably smaller than Fernando's, and was leaking a fluid he had never seen before. Suddenly, his legs were forced apart. Fernando positioned his cock at the entrance of Sha Lin's ass and leaned down.
“Do you know what is going to happen now, fly?” he asked.
Sha Lin didn't know what to say. It was all happening so fast, and his head was still clouded.
“That's okay. You are about to feel very good.”
Before Sha Lin knew what was happening, Fernando's cock forced its way inside of him, making him arch his back in surprise. It continued deeper and deeper, until it was buried completely. An indescribable feeling coursed through Sha Lin, which was only exacerbated when Fernando then started to thrust in and out of him. What was pain at first slowly turned to pleasure as he was pounded, his breath coming in short gasps. Small moans started to escape Sha Lin's throat until Fernando silenced them with his mouth. Not knowing what he was doing or why he was doing it, Sha Lin reached out and put his arms around Fernando's neck, pulling him even closer.
Fernando's own breath was becoming labored now, as he pulled his mouth away. “Dios mio...”
Sha Lin forced him back down, and now locked his legs around Fernando's waist. Shudders wracked Sha Lin's frame, sending him to the brink where he coasted, riding the feeling of pleasure for as long as he could. It was, all at once, too much. The back of Sha Lin's mind liquefied, sublimating into pure pleasure as he came. Fernando grunted as he gave one last, powerful thrust. They stayed linked for a moment longer, then Fernando withdrew. Sha Lin's legs were now limp.
Fernando leaned with his back against a tree for a while, staring at Sha Lin's immobile form. Eventually he got up and walked over to him.
“Much appreciated, amigo,” he said, squatting to pat Sha Lin's head. “Aren't you glad I let you live?”
Sha Lin made no reply.
Fernando got up and walked away.
After an indeterminable amount of time, Sha Lin straightened up. He looked around, and fixed his clothes as best he could. He got up and retrieved his bow and quiver, picking each arrow up one by one. He wasn't sure what to do now. Nothing in his training had prepared him for this situation.
In the end, he followed his first instinct and started walking.
He was going to find the Rogue Spaniard.