Laska
Laska
By K Webster
Laska
Copyright © 2020 K Webster
Cover Design: All by Design
Photo: Adobe Stock
Editor: Emily A. Lawrence
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning:
This book is beyond dark.
I’d dare to even call it horror if it weren’t for the love story woven in
between the blood and torture and incest.
You might pass this book up and catch the next one…
Unless you like a challenge.
In that case, I’m about to challenge your gag reflex and your morals.
Let’s ride, y’all.
Chapter One
Aspen
Laska.
Cold. Unforgiving. Harsh.
My brother.
He’s the backbone and the strength of our small family. Sure, Dad is technically bigger and stronger, but Laska is just…more. Intelligent and clever and the best at everything. When times are rough, it’s Laska who pulls us through. When food is scarce, it’s Laska who provides the bait and traps and weapons needed to hunt. When it’s colder than hell, it’s Laska who keeps us warm.
For as long as I can remember, Laska has been the cold, pale moon hanging above me, giving me something to look up to. Something to light up my darkness.
The bush is a place where our kind migrate when society no longer has a use for us. My brother and I were both born in the Alaskan wilderness. Mom was one of us, but then ten years ago, she decided she’d had enough and left.
Left us behind for a better life.
People.
Modern conveniences.
Safety.
Dad didn’t follow and wouldn’t let us either. He kept us in the harshest part of Alaska because that was our home. He and Uncle Ron did their best to create a community of our two families. When Uncle Ron’s wife died, our homestead was fractured even further.
Where Dad and Laska grew stronger out of necessity, I became needy and weak.
Crack.
I cock my head to the side, listening intently, just how Laska taught me. If it were an animal, the cracking would continue. A single crack usually means a human. Sneaky and quiet. I grip my shotgun tight, eager to shoot it.
Slowly, I inhale a deep breath, hoping to catch a whiff of him.
Laska.
Earthy, dark, sweet.
Not him.
Disappointment rushes through my veins like that of our nearby river. It’s cold and cruel and will sweep me away with its current if I let it. Truth is, I miss him. He’s been gone too long. Feels like forever. When he’s on his trips to town, Dad and I don’t mention him or speak much at all. Dad spends his time hunting and skinning whereas I retreat into the woods and bask in the solitude because it’s better than waiting in an empty cabin. At least in the woods, I don’t feel trapped by my loneliness. In the woods, hope whispers in the trees, reminding me Laska will come back. He always does.
When he returns, it’s always bearing gifts. His blue eyes glitter with anticipation, as though my reaction is his gift in return. Even if I don’t understand the things he brings from town, I always smile and thank him. It’s what he wants, and I always give my brother what he wants.
I try not to let doubt creep in. The dark part of my mind that likes to tease and taunt me, telling me he’ll like that faster life better than our slower one. That he’ll choose to live with Mom and leave us alone. I barely managed to keep it together when she left. Something broke inside me. Shriveled up and died. I ached for years after. Cried every night as Laska held me, assuring me all would be okay.
I hated her for what she did to us.
And now I hate her even more because he seems to go to town more and more for supplies, leaving us for longer stretches of time.
It’s been nearly two weeks.
Last night, I wanted to die. I cried myself to sleep, nearly suffocating myself with my pillow as I tried to stifle the sounds so Dad wouldn’t hear. Laska and I recently built the small cabin beside Dad’s in an effort to crawl out from under his gruff influence, but it’s not like we can’t hear each other on a quiet night. We’re men now and don’t need to live with our dad. I just need my brother. Sometimes I need Laska so much it scares me. Because if he ever decides to leave for good, he’ll take that other unbroken part of me Mom left behind.
I’ll be left with nothing.
The maddening thoughts consume me more and more the longer he’s gone. I’m itching to hunt, shoot, kill. At least when I’m away from the homestead and in the wilderness I’m able to get my hands a little bloody. The violent attacks on the helpless animals soothe my brittle soul. I can pretend I’m more animal than human. That I don’t have to think or speak. I can just hunt and stalk and live off the land.
Crack.
It has to be Juniper. She’s my sneaky little cousin who likes to spy on Dad. I find it curious the way she touches her body when she watches him, her hand moving wildly in her pants. The only person I’ve ever watched like that is my brother.
My dick twitches.
I think of the first time I became aware of his body. We weren’t but thirteen and fourteen when we’d stripped to swim in the river one summer. The two of us had been wrestling around in the water when my hand brushed against his dick. Immediately, mine went hard. I’d been so shocked, I jerked my hand back, glowering at him. Slowly, he turned his body and stared back at me, one corner of his lips twitching.
He was amused.
Somehow he knew what had happened and it was funny to him.
Shame courses through me. I’m not unlike Juniper in the way that I watch him a lot. His mouth when he speaks. The darkening of his blue eyes when he’s angry. All the curves of his muscular body as he does chores, shirtless when the weather is warm.
I’m aching to undo my pants and pull my dick out. To close my eyes and stroke it, imagining Laska were the one doing it instead.
In an effort to ignore my thoughts, I start walking. Swiftly and silently through the brush. Snow will come soon and we’re nearly ready. Dad and I have been hunting as much as possible. Laska will eventually show up with other supplies. I’m looking forward to spending a few lazy mornings by the fire with my brother, whispering for him to tell me about movie theaters and drive through restaurants and motorcycles.
I’m lost in thought when I realize I’ve wandered at least a mile from the homestead. I’m near the base of a mountain and the wind whistles alongside it, chilly and promising of a cold winter coming.
Crack.
Someone’s here. Not something, someone.
“Juniper, stop fuckin’ following me.”
My voice echoes against the rock and then gets lost to the wind. I wait patiently. Nothing.
“Dad?”
Nothing.
“Laska?”
That one’s just wishful thinking and comes out as a whisper. I miss him so damn much. Blinking away the stinging in my eyes, I turn and begin trekking back toward home. My eyes are on my boots as I try to see in the growing darkness.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Footsteps. Loud and clear. Right in front of me.
I squint in the darkness, trying to make out the features of the man. Not Dad or Laska or Uncle Ron or my cousin Jacob. Someone else. Another bushman like us. Older like dad but with less gray. Tall, dark beard, broad shoulders.
“Why are you following me?” I demand, slowly raising my weapon.
He cracks his neck. “Put it down, boy.”
Terror crawls up my spine. “No.”
“I said put it down. Don’t make me take it from you.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to put down the fuckin’ gun, kid. Don’t make me hurt you.”
“You want to take my gun?” I hiss. “Then you’ll be on your way?”
His laugh is cold. “I don’t want your gun. I just want you to put it down.”
“Why?”
Crack. Crack. Crack.
I lift my gun until it’s pointing at his head, which is now just a few feet away since he creeped up on me so quickly. “Don’t take another step.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he sneers.
He doesn’t move forward, but his arms are long, and he grabs my gun, jerking it past him. My finger yanks on the trigger as I’m jolted toward him, making a shot fire loudly. I bellow when he rips the gun from my grip and throws it.
I attempt to swing at him like Dad taught me, but the man is fast and dodges my hit. He twists me around and he bears down on me, sending us both crashing to the cold ground. Blood floods my mouth where I’ve bitten down on my tongue from the fall. I struggle, wondering if he’ll stab me to death or put my own gun to my head.
He does worse.
His meaty paw gropes my ass.
What the fuck?
“What are you doing?” I howl, squirming beneath him.
“Ain’t fucked in a while, kid. The girl back yonder always has the big guy around her, but you, you have no one.”
His words chill me to my bones.
No one.
I have no one.
I’m vaguely aware of the fact he’s yanking down my pants. The cold on my ass is chilling, but I’m numb. Something makes a sad, aching sound. Low and haunting.
It’s me.
The hot tears running down my cheeks are mine.
I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s not right, that much I do know.
Like when Mom left, I shut myself down and hid.
In the dark.
Dark.
Dark.
FUCK!
Pain sears into me like a knife hot from being held in a fire. But this isn’t a knife. It’s his dick and he’s putting it inside my ass. I scream, no longer interested in hiding inside my head. I claw at the earth, sobbing as I try to escape the one brutalizing me. The pain is so intense, it’s blinding.
“Yes,” the man groans, thrusting his hips forcefully into me, “that’s it. Fucking take it, boy.”
All I can do is cry because it hurts so fucking bad.
I’m weak.
I always was.
I was never Laska or Dad.
I’m like Mom. Unable to handle the wilderness and the predators in it.
His thrusting intensifies, like he’s chasing after something. There’s nothing to chase because he already caught me. I’m the prey and he’s killing me all too quickly.
“Laska,” I whimper. “Laska.”
The pain overwhelms me and I pass out.
Chapter Two
Laska
I didn’t want to come hunting for my brother when I was tired as fuck, but it didn’t feel right going to bed without seeing him first. Dad and Juniper didn’t know where he was, which meant he was going batshit crazy without me.
The thought warms me.
I didn’t mean to leave him for so long. I was just taking care of some shit. Getting laid was one of those things. It’s hard to find a piece of ass when you live with your dad on a small tract of land with nothing but family.
The sex in the truck stop bathroom did nothing to sate me. If anything, I felt worse. Fucking disgusting and deplorable. I’d felt euphoria for the whole brief moment as I shot my load inside the condom, but then it was over. Self-loathing crept back in all too quickly.
I’d all but run out of there, eager to finally get back home to my family.
To him.
Aspen needs me. I’ve always known this. I need him too, though I’m better at hiding it. When Mom bailed on us, I was left with a destroyed little brother. His blue eyes flickered and I worried to hell that they’d go all the way out. I clung to him, desperate to keep him tethered to me. Aspen is my best and only friend. Sure, I have some guys I hang out with when I go to town, but it’s not the same. Aspen is weaved into my heart and soul. He knows me like no one else does. I like that we don’t have to speak most days and he knows exactly how I’m feeling.
The moment I stepped onto our property, the need to see him increased to the point I was dizzy. When in town, it’s easy to block out this part of my life, but when I’m here, I crave my brother’s presence.
Where the hell is he?
Shouts capture my attention. Yelling. Then terrified screams. His screams. I take off running, as fast as my legs will carry me, and pull out my .45 from the back of my jeans. It’s new—something I hustled up while in town this trip. I’ve yet to shoot it, but I won’t think twice about doing it.
The woods can be brutal. The creatures violent. The climate unforgiving.
But it’s none of these things.
It is a man.
His bare ass on display as he thrusts. It doesn’t take much to figure out what he’s doing to my fucking brother. Rage explodes inside of me, hot and violent. I charge toward them with one thing on my mind.
Death.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
Pop!
The man stops his thrusting and falls against my brother. I grab the back of his coat and yank him away. Aspen cries out as the man’s dick jerks out of him. Flipping the man onto his back, I glower down at him. His eye’s blown the fuck out. It doesn’t stop me from unloading— pop-pop-pop-pop-pop—five more bullets into his face, leaving it a meaty mess.
My ears ring from the shots. I can’t hear if my brother is speaking. I don’t need to hear. I simply need to help him. With gentle movements, I tug his pants up, covering his ass. I ease him to his feet and wrap his arm over my shoulders. His entire body trembles and I know it’s not from the cold. It’s from that motherfucker who thought he could hurt my brother and get away with it.
“I’m here now,” I murmur, keeping my words soft. “I’m not leaving again.”
Not now. Not ever.
I’d already decided it before I came back home, but this solidifies it. Aspen needs me and I’ll be damned if I let him stay out here to fend for himself when he has me to do it for him.
I’m his protector.
Always have been.
His brother. His guide. His nurturer. His teacher. His everything.
The walk back to the homestead is a long one. Aspen cries the whole way, whittling pieces of my heart with each sniffle. How dare that man break my brother? By the time we reach the homestead, I’m about to explode with rage. I want to hack that man up with an ax and feed him to the wolves piece by piece. If I didn’t think Dad would lose his shit, I’d cut off that offending piece of the man, shove a fucking stick through it, roast it on the fire, and share it with my brother.
Only animals.
Not humans.
Dad has had to remind me that many times over the years. I won’t tell him the urge to taste someone—especially someone who hurt my brother—is such an intense craving, I can barely ignore it.
Right now, I focus on Aspen. Dad’s cabin is dark, which means he’s already gone to bed. We slip inside our own cabin without having to answer any questions. I guide my brother to the room we share and am thankful to get him safely inside. He’s trembling and his red cheeks are tearstained. So reminiscent of when M
om left us.
My poor boy.
I yank off my gloves and run my calloused thumbs over his cheeks, swiping away the wetness. “You’re safe, little ember.”
Normally, my pet names earn me smiles.
Aspen is not smiling.
His blue eyes are deadening with each passing second. I always thought he was too fragile—too close to something soul sucking—but I didn’t think I’d watch him ever fully break. Not when he has me to keep him together.
I quickly start removing his clothes. When I get to his pants, he whines. Leaning in, I kiss his neck near his ear softly. “It’s Laska. I have you. You’re mine to look after.”
The stiffness in his spine relaxes some, giving me hope that I can make it all better. I quickly pull off his pants. His cock is hard and juts out at me. It makes my own dick twitch with excitement. A whining sound escapes him as he realizes he’s hard. Our eyes meet and self-hatred burns in his.
“What’s wrong?” I demand.
“He hurt me but…” His chin wobbles.
“But you got hard?”
A tear races down his cheek. I swipe it away again with my thumb. He stares at me like I have all the answers. Like I know all of life’s mysteries.
“It’s because you’re gay, Asp,” I murmur, my mouth close to his. “And you just had your first sexual encounter. It was horrible, but your body recognized what it wants.”
A sob escapes him. “Dad will kill me. We’re supposed to take wives.”
The thought of Dad killing Aspen has me wanting to march over there and slit his throat while he sleeps. “Dad won’t do shit, little ember.”
This time, his lips twitch like he might smile. “You’ll protect me from him?”
“From everyone,” I vow.
My words satisfy him. He crawls onto our nest of blankets near the fire, drawing my pillow to his face. I kneel to cover his naked body and then strip down myself. Something settles inside my bones. A fierce need to claim. I’d be a dick if I did that to him now, though. After all these years, ignoring the burning intensity between us, and seeking that passion elsewhere. It’s unfair to him to sidle up behind him like old times, but instead of cuddling, slide my aching dick between his cheeks to take what we both want.