Mad Max Villains

Mad Max Villains

You see! There is no escape! The Humungus Rules the Wasteland!

Chapter Eight

Love Bites

(Words & Music by: Tipton, Downing & Halford)

When you feel safe, when you feel warm
That's when I rise, that's when I crawl
Gliding on mist, hardly a sound
Bring the kiss, evils abound

In the dead of night
Love bites, Love bites
In the dead of night
Love bites

Into your room, where in deep sleep
There you lie still, to you I creep
Then I descend, close to your lips
Across you I bend, you smile as I sip

Now you are mine, in my control
One taste of your life, and I own your soul
Softly you stir, gently you moan
Lust's in the air, wake as I groan

Love bites you, invites you
To feast in the night
Excites you, delights you
It drains you to white
Love bites

You knew at first sight, you'd enjoy my attack
That with my first bite, there'd be no turning back
So come in my arms, I strike any hour
I will return, to trap and devour

In the dead of night
Love bites
~~~

So much work done in one year's time, so much progress made. First, they had to do battle with the Skinheads, who surrendered and joined. Then it was a fight against the Gayboy Berserkers, who also surrendered. After three months of inner-battling, they finally had regrouped as the official Dogs of War. Then came training of all things. Of course the Mohawkers and Skinheads protested since such discipline was foreign to them. But learning to work as one unit did pay off because three months later they set out to conduct a test raid, which met with success. Then they moved on to the first compound, successfully seizing the structure. Now in between pillaging, they were trying to locate the second compound. Then they'd have the remaining two to overtake. Finally, they'd move on to the encampment erected by Pappagello.

As for the brunette slave boy? Dead. Killed by his hand in a fit or rage when the Humungus was appointed as leader of the Dogs of War.

Wez gave a slow growl. He refused to show up as nothing but the Humungus's right-hand when he finally took down Iason at the New City.

He grunted and rolled over. Needing some time away from the camp, he had hauled Rebel and Glory Rider out on a scavenge run this morning. Now it was high noon, the blazing sun shining down on the desert, heating the rust-colored dirt with its intense rays. He snaked across the sand on his belly and then rose, deciding to walk over another rise. His ears had picked up a sound and he never overlooked any tiny noise.

Patting his metal-wrist crossbow, he tapped the arrow while slinging the projectile rifle weapon over his shoulder. Then he got down on his knees, lifting his binoculars as he peered over the rise. He gave a hissy laugh when he spotted the small house. Then the fleck of gold caught his attention.

His hands gripped the binoculars tightly, focusing on the slim figure digging in the sand. First he caught the delicate, long fingers gently pushing the sand to the side with a graceful, soft movement. Then he shifted to the bare arms, so smooth and supple, ripe and waiting to be finally tasted. Up the binoculars traveled, caressing the slim back, shoulders and neck. Ah yes, the neck. Long strands of hair brushed against the gentle shoulders. So golden were those pretty locks, so intense like the sun right now at its peak. He inhaled deeply, almost smelling the innocent, heady fragrance that emanated from this delicate being.

He gave a grunt, wanting to capture a peek at the face, but the long layers shrouded the face like a veil. An angel? Did a heaven exist? Was the golden mane but a halo? His jaw slackened when the youth finally glanced up.

He peered into big, blue eyes, the color so deep like sapphires, framed by delicately arched brows and feathered with thick, black, long lashes. Oh, damn pretty. He wanted to run his tongue along the lids, lick the lashes and taste the brows. The lips were full, protruding into a gentle pout, the color of rose and most likely never knowing the feel of another wet mouth warming the smooth flesh. The face was perfectly oval, graced with a chin moving into a slight V.

His eyes feasted upon the sleek, long legs and then rested on the gently-rounded, smooth buttocks. Yeah, that ass was more than pretty, most likely silken to the touch, so virginal, never feeling an erection sliding between those cheeks, the tight portal never impaled and being fed with seed.

Then the lad got off his knees, gazing up at the blue sky, carefully brushing the sand off his pants. Then he took the time to remove a handkerchief from his pocket and he wiped his hands, patting the garment gently on his neck and face.

Wez grunted in disbelief, still peering through the binoculars. What kid took the time to clean up after playing in the dirt? Yet, the pretty lad did.

The boy began walking. And shit, easily he could sit out here all day, baking under the hot sun since the lad's movements were so graceful. There was something so androgynous about the boy, yet not effeminate since he did possess the lean muscles of a youth, but the delicate prettiness and genteel mannerism was so masculinely beauteous.

Just then the boy turned, gazing at the hill.

Wez's jaw slackened when the wind ruffled the lad's hair. Now he had a very clear look at the face since the boy gazed in his direction. Up went the pretty arm and delicate fingers pushed back the strands of hair off the satiny face. Those sapphire blue eyes just stared. The look seemed empty but yet, he couldn't call those eyes dead or vacant. It was as if the youth lived in his own mind. A thinker, lost somewhere in deep thought.

Now he longed to unearth what the youth could be thinking about.

Just then the boy sat, one knee drawn up, leg crossed over the other while he tucked his foot underneath his supple buttocks. He rested his elbows on his knee, the delicate fingers locking together and he planted his narrow chin on his hands.

Wez was slightly taken aback. A thinker's pose he gazed at. For some reason he didn't feel like he was on top of a hill spying on the youth. He felt like the pretty lad had drawn him into the secret dimension where the boy's imagination wandered. Yeah, a quiet peace was gently washing over him as he let the youth's soothing aura lull him into a mellow trance.

For the longest time he lay on his belly, his chin resting on his folded arms, just staring at the youth, letting the beauty wash away the tension that always coiled through his body. He felt as if he was being slowly unwrapped and the instincts that drove him for the last twenty-eight years just sorta drifted off with the clouds gently moving overhead.

When the youth traced his finger in the sand, so did he. Languorously, he copied the boy, making an L. And he liked the peaceful movement, just following whatever the youth did, forming an O, and then he traced a V, then an E. When the youth wiped away the imprint, so did he. And when the lad cupped his hands into the sand, letting the soft grains slip between the fingers, he mimicked the boy's movement.

"Honey, come on," the female called out. "Your meal is ready."

Now Wez gave a low growl when the voice disturbed him.

The dream-like state vanished and he felt the familiar alertness fill his body. He blinked a few times, lifting the binoculars and focused on a woman who seemed to be in her mid-thirties. She waved her arm in the air, beckoning the youth to come to her. Sure enough the pretty lad obeyed, rising off the sand, carefully wiping himself clean with that cute handkerchief.

Now Wez frowned when the woman met the delicate rose halfway. She wrapped her arm around the boy's shoulder, and the lad leaned in against her. Gently, she kissed the youth's forehead. Their backs were to him since they were heading for the house.

He set down the binoculars, snarling. For some reason he didn't like the woman touching the pretty boy. And he was pissed with the bitch since she broke the spell the youth had lulled him into. Now he became more furious when he watched the door to the small home close. Stupid woman just upped and fucked off with the youth.

He glanced back to the spot where the youth had sat. Yeah, the delicate angel was like a rose budding in the wasteland, easily drawing someone deep into those petals. Never did his mind spin like this before with so many emotions. And tonight he would capture the golden youth for himself.

*****

Under the cover of night two people met a quick death. The fight was finished. He murdered the woman and man who guarded the rose of the wasteland. And he was growing rather angry since no sign of the beautiful angel could be found in the small house. Rebel and Glory Rider were still turning the place upside down, trying to unearth the golden youth.

"He in here somewhere!" Wez roared. "He not just disappear to thin air! Find him! Find him, now!"

With rage, he kicked at the armoire against the wall. Again he sent his boot into the wood structure. Another swift kick, and another. He couldn't stop since his anger was so great. He refused to leave this house until he had the golden youth.

Did he hallucinate out on the desert sand today? Was the golden youth but a mirage? Was his mind playing tricks on him?

"Raaaagh," he roared, slamming his mighty fist into the armoire.

Then his eyes widened. He peered closer, all anger vanishing since he could feel where the wall connected with a door. With brute strength, he sent the armoire toppling over, crashing to the floor, almost landing on the dead man. Then he hungrily licked his lips. Two doors leading to a cellar. Now he whipped around, glaring at the two bodies. Oh God, he wished they were still alive since he wanted to kill them all over again for their trickery. They hid the golden youth. They hid the beautiful rose of the wasteland in the cellar. The armoire had been pushed against the wall, easily making the cellar doors disappear.

Then he spotted the worn marks in the floor where the armoire had been pushed back and forth every night. How did he overlook this? How could he have missed such an easy sign? Never before did he dare not pick up something so apparent with his keen senses. Now he gave a grunt of disgust. He was too excited, too elated . . . He'd been so eager to abduct the golden youth, he let his emotions lead him on this raid.

No more waiting. The youth was downstairs. He snatched up his saddlebag, tossing the leather garment over his shoulder. He drew the cellar doors open and there was the beautiful boy, sleeping by candlelight, the soft illumination casting a gold aura around the lad, looking every bit an angel. His eyes filled with hunger when he watched the long, black, thick lashes flutter. Then the sapphire blue eyes widened in alarm.

Wez raised his left arm, silently telling the youth not to move. But the golden-haired lad chose not to obey. Instead, the frightened boy tried to reach for the bat laying at his side. So he released the arrow, easily targeting the cuff of the lad's shirt, pinning the gentle rose to the floor.

The boy looked alarmed, those big, sapphire blue eyes widening with fear.

Wez grunted. He liked how the pretty lad struggled, attempting to tear the shirt but the cotton garment wouldn't give. So the youth withdrew his arm from the sleeve, scrambling out of the shirt so he could free himself from the cellar floor.

He gave a hissy laugh, so damn impressed. No panic. No begging. No pleading. The youth was intent on getting that baseball bat. And how futile the attempt at defense was for the delicate rose since he'd be easily overpowered. Yet, the golden-haired beauty refused to go down without a fight.

Just then Rebel and Glory Rider entered the cellar, making their way down the stairs.

Wez became annoyed. They should be busy scavenging the supplies, not bothering him.

Rebel was also impressed, watching the gentle lad back against the wall, those slim arms shielding the angelic face. Never did he see such spellbinding beauty, such sweet innocence, so genteel with a delicate strength. Shit, he wanted the boy for himself.

"Leave him," Wez growled, knowing exactly what was gathering in his comrade's mind.

Rebel gave an annoyed grunt. Man, at times like this he really wanted to kick his crony's ass. He was growing sick and tired of his leader always getting first dibs on all the hot babes. But now was not the time to fight. They had a raid to complete so he mounted the stairs, motioning for Glory Rider to join him.

Wez gazed at the youth, realizing they were now alone and would not be disturbed. He was at loss for words. Speechless. Never did he feel so overwhelmed in his life, but yet, he couldn't stop the spinning emotions.

"I found the golden youth," he grunted, more to himself since he was amazed such innocent, enchanting, genteel beauty could be unearthed in a wasteland.

"I found the golden youth," he again said to himself. Yeah, he felt like a pirate, finally locating the hidden treasure all sought, hunting for years to finally claim this prized jewel.

He squatted then, edging closer to the lad, his gaze still transfixed, almost stopped cold in his tracks by the shock still pounding through his body. Yeah, he wanted to sniff the lad, finger the silken hair, touch the smooth skin and reaffirm this was a living, beautiful creature and not a mirage that would disappear.

Then he frowned since the pretty lad's eyes were shut tight. Did the youth think he planned on killing him? Bah, such nonsense. Didn't the youth realize any marauder in this wasteland wouldn't dare take the life of the only rose blooming in the valley of death? Only a fool would snuff out the last remaining presence of enchanting beauty.

Yes, everything about a civilization long gone that once knew compassion, sympathy, empathy, gentleness, kindness, sweetness and innocence - the old world never died after all, for it lived on in this pretty lad.

"I found the golden youth," Wez couldn't help but smugly announce, realizing he now possessed what all sought.

Those big, blue eyes then widened in alarm, maybe confused by the riddle.

Wez was dumbfounded. Didn't the delicate rose know of the magnificent beauty filling every inch of that slim body? He dug through his saddlebag, locating the old, chipped mirror he stole during a raid. Then he frowned since the youth again tightly closed those big, blue eyes.

Idiot, have a look at yourself for crying out loud and find out why nobody would dare kill you.

He prodded the lad, nudging the frightened boy to have a look. Hmm, and he liked how the pretty boy meekly obeyed. Then he almost burst into a fit of laughter when the youth's jaw slackened in astonishment and disbelief. Bah, the delicate rose never saw his own reflection before. The golden-haired creature didn't have a clue about the beauty he possessed.

God, he wanted to roll on the floor in a laughing fit, but best to get going. He never liked to stay at a place he raided for too long and he was aching to get the lad alone since that bare, smooth chest was teasing his loins with lust and the hunger in his groin was great.

So Wez reached into his saddlebag, unearthing the collar and chain. He grabbed the key and unlocked the bolt. Then he proudly held out the collar to the youth. Yes, put it on. You're mine now. You belong to me. You're so beautiful that I just can't help myself. God, I'm at a loss. I can't stop staring at you. I could sit here forever just looking at you.

His jaw slackened in disbelief when the youth's face contorted with hate, fear and disgust. Then the lad began scrambling away on all fours, refusing the collar and chain.

The anger pounded through his soul then. The hate burned up every inch of his body. The rejection of what he offered was like a knife cutting through his heart. He reached out, easily stopping the youth as he clamped his hand around the delicate ankle.

Oh God, he wanted to smack this bitch. How dare the youth try and flee when all he wanted to do was seal this beautiful angel as his mate? Not a slave boy. His mate! He wanted to mate with the youth, protect the delicate rose and shower this pretty creature with all he could offer. And the bitch rejected him!

Again, the youth tried to run and Wez easily rolled the bitch over, seating himself deep on the delicate, bare chest. The boy panted and gasped, trying to draw on air. Hmm, he loved listening to the youth's sweet gasps.

So he held up the collar and once again he was met with resistance as the youth withered and thrashed, fighting to free himself.

Wez's eyes narrowed with hate. He laced the collar around the youth's slim neck and then snapped the lock shut. Shut up you fucking bitch. Quit your goddamn squealing. I'm your master now whether you like it or not and you'd better give me what I need or you'll regret what I'll do.

He stood then, giving the collar a shake. Bitch, follow! He strode up the steps two a time and he could hear the youth scrambling behind him. As he stepped over the dead woman who lay in the doorway, the anger reached a boiling point when he felt the tug on the chain. Then came the meek screams as he listened to the deep mourning coming from the youth.

Two emotions. Yeah, he could feel two emotions fighting within him as he tugged on the chain, dragging the screaming youth along. He wanted to smack this bitch across the face. What the fuck was this beautiful angel so upset about? How dare the delicate rose wail in mourning for the two guardians he slaughtered? He was the keeper of the golden youth now.

And that second emotion . . . He ached to gather the pretty lad into his arms, rock the delicate body and sooth the pain away. He didn't like hearing the gut-wrenching emotions tearing from the youth's sweet soul. He didn't like knowing the boy was upset.

He chose the former since he was pissed that his golden youth was screaming for the two dead people. He wanted the youth to beg, cry and scream for him, not those two morons he killed. So he raised the back of his hand, silencing those stupid screams as the youth passed out.

"He a feisty one," Rebel said with amusement.

Wez growled. He gazed down at the youth slumped against his leg. The pretty lashes dusted against the silken skin, the rose lips slack. He scooped the delicate body into his arms, savoring the feel of the youth's warm flesh against his. The pretty lad's head fell back. Hmm, didn't take much to knock his golden youth out.

Then he thought about that cute bat the youth tried to snatch. Yes, how alluring the lad would look dressed in leather, the slim bat drawn across the delicate back while sitting on the pillion of the big Kawasaki. So he headed into the house and made his way down the cellar steps.

The bat lay on the floor. He gave a grunt, scooping up the weapon and placed it across the gentle rose's chest. He recalled the outfit back at the base camp. Yes, he'd adorn the pretty boy in the skintight, black, leather pants, the black, leather boots and the black, leather wrist-bands. Since the genteel lad had such pretty nipples, he'd dress the boy in the tiny vest that would expose the flat stomach and the smooth chest - three notches, one around the neck, the other below the rib cage and the other above the tiny naval. And of course, his golden youth would have to wear the collar and chain from now on, even in sleep.

Wez gave a grunt when he finally took in the stacks and stacks of books filling the cellar, something he again overlooked since the gentle rose had his undivided attention. The youth could read? He gave another grunt, sitting on his haunches while still cradling his new mate, glancing down at the one book that lay next to the candle. A purple marker was slipped between the pages.

Now he gave a snarl of annoyance since he couldn't read. He didn't know the title of the book his mate had been reading. He gazed at the paper, quills and inks. The youth could write? Then it dawned on him what he did in the sand this afternoon. The youth had been writing in the sand. He'd been making the letters the youth did. So just what the heck had they been writing?

He gave a low growl. For some reason he didn't like the fact his mate possessed skills he didn't have. No more reading or writing for this bitch.

He made his way back up the stairs. "Burn the house," he hollered. "Burn it and burn books and papers!"

Now he headed for his motorcycle. He gave the bike a start and leaned back slightly so the golden youth could sleep against his chest. Yes, he had to ride very carefully since he didn't want to risk his mate falling off.

Mate. Hmm, he liked that name. His mate was the golden youth.

Golden Youth. He liked that name even better.

Golden Youth, mate of the Mighty Wez.

And he liked their two names joining together as one by a word that symbolized protection, care and thighs parting to receive the seed. Yeah, mate.

His mate.

Now he couldn't resist. Gently, he traced his rough finger along the silken flesh, outlining the high cheekbone and then lightly caressing the protruding lower lip. Such a pretty pout. Hesitantly, the anticipation so ripe and hot, he covered those soft lips with his mouth, sighing when he finally tasted the soft nectar, such elixir. So beautiful. Damn beautiful.

Then he gave a hissy laugh as he sped away on the bike with his Golden Youth.

*****

Wez sensed when the Golden Youth awoke, could hear the change in breathing, so much softer now, not as deep as it had been earlier. If he turned, he knew he'd see those sapphire blue eyes gazing at him. And would those sparkling gems be filled with pain, mourning and sadness?

Again that tight, angered feeling gnawed at him. He loathed the youth suffering over the loss of those two people who guarded the rose of the wasteland.

“If not us, it would be someone else,” Wez gruffly said.

When the Golden Youth failed to acknowledge his statement, his jaw tightened. He had to make the pretty lad understand this was the wasteland and it was hunt or be hunted. He was tired of those pain-filled eyes.

He quickly moved and the gentle boy jumped in alarm. His rough fingers hovered under the youth's chin. “If not us, it would be someone else,” he repeated.

“You didn’t have to kill them,” came the soft, delicate reply.

The voice took him by surprise. Since the youth failed to speak, he was worried the lad was mute, but yet, the husky, sweet voice answered and man, that hesitant, enchanting voice was music to his ears. “Ah, the golden youth speaks,” Wez gently growled. “I thought you to be mute.”

“No, not mute,” the youth shyly answered. Then came the painful, “Why?” Oh God, why did this man murder his uncle and mother?

Wez almost growled with annoyance. What was the matter with this boy? Didn't he understand how it worked? Those two people were dead and he was the mate, protector and care-giver. “You are mine now,” he grunted. “Forget about them. They are dead.”

The Golden Youth hesitated, his lower lip quivering as he fought for courage. He had to know why this man came for him. He had to know why this man killed two people he loved. Oh God, never was he so frightened and the horrible pain wouldn't leave. His mother and uncle were dead. “Why did you come to find me?” he asked. “And why did you kill them?”

Wez was growing sick and tired of these questions. They're dead for fuck sakes. Get over it. Life is no more with those two morons. I'm the keeper of your beauty so shut the fuck up.

“No more talking,” he firmly replied. “You are mine now. I am the keeper of the golden youth. Go back to sleep.”

He gave the youth his back, letting him know the conversation was finished. With disinterest, he picked at the meat. Hunger wasn't really present. The sweet body laying behind him had his attention.

Rebel glanced up. He still couldn't take his eyes off the pretty boy. His own loins throbbed with a deep ache. He looked to his comrade and in a cold voice announced, “Wez, I am trying him.”

Wez's eyes narrowed. Rebel dared to try and claim his mate? Oh no, he may have thought nothing of sharing the other slave boys he took in the past, but he refused to share the Golden Youth. “He’s mine,” he snarled in a lethal, low voice.

“No,” Rebel growled. “We share him. We have always shared.” Just then he stood.

Glory Rider decided to stay out of this confrontation and he kept tending the fire, poking a stick at the burning logs. He knew these two would slug it out tonight. And he didn't really care since it was their way after all. Rebel wanted to mount the beautiful youth and he had every right to challenge their leader. And he knew Wez didn't mind because courage, bravery and battling for what one wanted was the code they lived by. The winner would be the master of the blond youth.

Wez raised his left arm, aiming the crossbow. “Sit, Rebel.”

Rebel ignored the order. He took a step forehead, keenly eying his comrade, while also glancing at the Golden Youth. Suddenly, he leapt through the air, his one leg extended, ready to strike. Before he could finish his leap, Wez fired the crossbow and Rebel gave a hiss of pain, crashing to the ground, while shouting his war cry. The arrow was embedded in his thigh.

“Next time, it won’t be your leg,” Wez warned him. He withdrew another arrow from the quiver and reloaded the crossbow. Then he walked over to his comrade, giving a grunt as he roughly removed the arrow. Then he placed the sharp, narrow weapon into the quiver.

He then glanced to the Golden Youth who shook with fear, those big sapphire blue eyes wide and staring. "Go back to sleep,” he growled.

“No,” the youth replied, shaking his head. He saw enough murders tonight. He just wanted out of here.

Wez's jaw slackened in disbelief when the pretty lad suddenly rose, gathering the blanket around his slim form and the boy began running with great speed away from the camp fire.

The rage overcame him as he started after the youth. God, he couldn't believe this. One hellcat thought to deceive him, leaving him to rot in a prison cell and now this bitch was daring to flee. He had enough of these blond devils. He took aim, his eyes locked on the corner of the blanket, ensuring he would not harm the youth. Then he fired the crossbow.

The youth screamed and fell to the ground with the blanket.

Wez was upon the defiant bitch within two strides. Okay, he let this blond brat get away with more than he should have allowed tonight. It was time to claim ownership and put the delicate rose in a proper place. He raised his arm and the boy cowered, almost whimpering, fearing the site of his mighty fist.

He gave a grunt, satisfied with the fear in those big, sapphire blue eyes. He lowered his arm and then turned, holding the chain as he stomped back to the camp fire, listening to the youth stumble along. Upon reaching the fire, he threw the blanket aside and withdrew a sharp knife from his leather scabbard.

Then he gave a yank on the chain and the youth stumbled, falling on the blanket. He stuck the knife between his teeth, curling the chain around his wrist until they were only inches apart. The movement of the knife was quick. Before the youth could scream, he swiftly ran the blade along the front of the cotton pants, down the legs until he sliced through the hem of the garment.

The Golden Youth shuddered, trying to grasp at his pants.

Wez cocked his brow and removed his leather groin strap. Those blue eyes widened with fear and terror. Then he became annoyed when he heard the laughter.

“Away,” he growled.

Glory Rider and Rebel grumbled but they obeyed, rising from the ground as they stalked away from the camp fire.

Wez looked back to the Golden Youth. So helpless the delicate rose looked, trying to shield the silken nakedness. He clamped his hand on the pants, casting aside the torn garment. Yes, this is what he wanted to feast upon: the pretty, soft penis covered by the hood of skin. Ah yes, the lad's kissable foreskin remained intact, never knowing the brutality of a doctor's knife. And so vulnerable the delicate boy looked, eyes wide with fright, body trembling and lower lip quivering. But instead of the scent bringing out the violent, cruel nature which always goaded him to attack, that potent-filled look in the youth's eyes just seemed to tear at his insides.

No fear. Please, no fear. You are my mate, my lover who lies underneath me receiving my seed. I just want to touch you. I want to kiss you. I want to hold you. I want to make you all mine.

“Why?” the Golden Youth moaned as he fought back the tears, refusing to cry.

Ah yes, so scared and yet, the gentle rose was handling this moment with courage, dignity and grace. Truly, he captured the prize of all prizes. “Golden Youth,” Wez grunted. Yeah, so proud he was, so proud of this soft beauty's quiet strength.

Now he recalled a time when he refused to break a minx's spirit. And he refused to rob the youth of the gentle courage. He drew the Golden Youth against him, sighing with delight when his hands ran along the delicate thighs.

He would be gentle and quick about this. Their joining was not meant to be an attack of passion, but instead would be a claiming, marking the youth as his own. Tomorrow night he'd show the delicate rose what mating was all about.

*****

Wez gave a grunt, the morning light rousing him. He gazed at the Golden Youth who still slept. He lifted the blanket slightly, unable to resist the temptation of catching a peek at the piss hard-on he knew the blond beauty would possess. Now he gave an appreciative growl, devouring the erect penis with his eyes, the foreskin pushed back, proudly exposing the slick head. In time he'd consume the golden nectar, and feast on the youth's seed while tasting the sweet, virginal hole with his tongue. Actually, he just wanted to consume every inch of this delicate rose. He couldn't help but glance at the pretty toes, the long fingers and tight tummy. Ribs protruded slightly which made him frown. The former keepers did not feed the Golden Youth properly. No doubt the dead man and woman had been at their wits end trying to find a way to keep the rose of the wasteland alive.

Well, under his care the pretty lad would gain weight, grow into manhood and be properly nourished. He wanted to shower his most prized possession with whatever the youth desired. Never would the rose of the wasteland want for anything under his protection.

He gave an amused grunt when he watched the youth's delicate lips frown, his body feeling the chill and wanting warmth. So he lay the blanket back on his mate.

Then he turned to the burned-down fire. Glory Rider was awake and Rebel was stretching, looking to the rising sun.

It was time to return to the base camp. He had to show his new lover so much about their way of life. And the delicate rose had no choice but to adapt. The Golden Youth would always sit on the pillion of the Kawasaki so he had to teach the pretty lad how to ride shotgun properly. And he still had to clothe the youth since only a blanket covered the pretty flesh. Most important, his mate could not flinch when accompanying him on a pillage. The Golden Youth must accept the torture and death that was their only means of survival.

He had a good guess what this gentle beauty's life had been like so far: a cellar, reading about nonsense that no longer existed. His mate's perception of reality was so warped. All his lover knew was the care of the guardians and the sands outside the house.

Well, it was time to begin the Golden Youth's first lesson. So he turned, rousing his lover. The sapphire blue eyes fluttered. Best to move quickly. He refused to let his mate dwell on what happened last night. So he yanked up the blond beauty and pointed at his bike. The youth obeyed and slid on the pillion, carefully drawing the blanket tighter around his naked flesh.

Wez gave a grunt and joined Rebel and Glory Rider to confer before they left.

*****

They blazed down the highway, the big Kawasaki's tires spinning relentlessly on the hot pavement. Wez breathed in the air, savored the rush of the wind and let the vibrating engine underneath him tease his crotch to a dull ache. But it was the pretty groin pressing against his backside that made his manhood harden.

Could life get any better than this? A big Kawasaki, the freedom of the road and a naked, beautiful blond spooning his hips with a delicate penis rubbing against his exposed buttocks. Damn, he was thankful he wore chaps. Just a thin blanket kept their flesh from joining.

As much as enjoyed having the Golden Youth's delicate fingers clutching his waist, he did have to commence with the lessons. The pretty lad had to learn how to clutch the seat of the pillion, a survival tactic necessary so he could use his weapons without distraction. So he gently nudged his lover's hands off his chaps. Sure enough his mate obeyed, clutching the pillion.

Conforming. The Golden Youth didn't question but accepted. Wez liked that. So passive, even submissive, perhaps even a little docile was this delicate rose. Yet, the silent obedience, the look in the big, sapphire blue eyes, no hellcat could compete against such ethereal, regal beauty. Yeah, his lover was like some sort of crown prince, his movements graceful and charming, that of a tiny gentleman.

Yeah, whereas Iason's beauty had been in that tough-talking mouth, the sassy words and fierce independence, the Golden Youth's was shrouded in delicate, gentle, sweet, submissive innocence. And he realized nothing was more breathtaking to him than genteel, elegant beauty.

God, he wanted to see such a look in his lover's eyes - worshiping, trusting, filled with faith and hope, confident that his master would protect him. He ached and longed for the youth to allow him to be the keeper of his mind, spirit and soul, besides the body he already possessed. And during that moment words from so long ago rose from the depths of his mind, surfacing like a ghost to haunt him.

This what you’re looking for, Alex? You want someone like him? Lemme tell you something, punk. A kid who mirrors this rocker sure wouldn’t bother with someone like you. You’d have to abduct such a kid since he wouldn’t freely run to you. You’d have to put him on a chain so he wouldn’t try and escape. Nope, no pretty boy would bother with an ugly, son-of-a-bitch like you. So just keep on dreaming, boy.

His blood seemed to stand still when he glanced down to the clip notched to his belt loop, the chain slithering upwards, locked to the Golden Youth's collar. His eyes widened, his heart stopped beating and he could feel the air being sucked from his body. The words. And now a beautiful youth more mesmerizing, so much more beautiful than Robin was chained to him.

This what you’re looking for, Alex?

No, must get rid of thoughts. Must not think.

This what you’re looking for, Alex?

He snarled then, almost screaming as he gave his head a shake, shrugging off the clinging thoughts that invaded his mind. His eyes locked on the road. Yes, the lesson. He must continue with his lover's lesson. No more goddamn thinking.

With all the self-will he could conjure up, he pushed the thoughts aside and he was back on the road. No longer did he sit in an interrogation room listening to a police officer belittle the dream he chased, the dream of possessing a golden youth. Deeply, he breathed in, trying to catch the scent of his mate. Yes, so much more power. Why did his immense strength seem to greaten now that the youth road pillion?

Next Page - Chapter Nine

Note: "Mad Max" is a trademark and copyright of Kennedy-Miller Entertainment/Warner Bros. George Miller, Byron Kennedy and Terry Hayes (Kennedy Miller Entertainment/ Warner Bros.) hold copyright to the Mad Max Trilogy.
This story is created for fan fiction purposes only. Some dialogue was taken from the script to keep this tale true to the original movie.

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