Grains of Sand
Copyright© 2006 by Fick Suck
Chapter 8
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 8 - In a post-apocalyptic world, Yakhir is an apprentice archivist with a seemingly bright future. However, his father is dead, possibly assassinated, his lover may be a spy and his sister is telling everyone how well endowed he is. The world is recovering from The Great Burn; but will Yakhir be around to enjoy its blossoming.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Teenagers Consensual Science Fiction Incest
In the morning light, the town looked pristine and innocent again. Yakhir shook his head as he tried to reconcile the two views of his town that he now knew existed. After much debate, the family decided that daytime should be safe for both Yakhir and Janina to travel alone from the house, but if they went anywhere that might be out of way, they swore they would not go alone.
They let Adilah sleep through that long, early morning conversation. With their circumstances having taken a turn for the worse, they strove to reassemble their house to be a safe haven. Her sleep afforded a brief respite from the struggle. A confrontation, perhaps only a conversation with Adila was looming, and Yakhir felt ill at ease. He would not be able to hide behind Janina this time like he did with Davni. He shook his head with disbelief. Was the attack only last night, less than twelve hours ago? A new, more dangerous era had arisen in half a revolution of the planet.
His first task was his datapad. The corner was smashed in where it had connected with the skull of their attacker. The material, which did not crack like plastics did, did not have the cool, slick feel of metal either. Yakhir could not identify the material of the outer case, which made repair impossible. No matter, the machine was acting up and rebooting often without an apparent reason. The datapad was failing.
He decided that this time he was not going to be able to sneak into Shaft One. Ever cautious of the Archivist and his few allies, each excursion into the depths had to be vetted for personal safety. Ykhir was confident of at least one turncoat who was assigned to Shaft One, whose loyalty was to Atto. As much as he would have liked to simply grab a new datapad, Master Kevit-Nakar would have write out permission to draw a datapad. Making the matter public would draw attention to him and possibly, Archivist’s Atto’s intervention.
He went to work. Yakhir sought out his master and told his story of last night’s attack in three-part harmony. Holding up his datapad to illustrate the force of his blow, he also pulled out the knife to highlight the assassin’s intent. The master sagged against the wall as he viewed the evidence.
“Nasty business,” was the older man’s reply. He fished out a pad of paper from his pocket, which left Yakhir gaping at in astonishment. The man had the equivalent of a year’s salary tucked carelessly upon his person. Master Kevit-Nakar wrote out an order for a new datapad and for a cable between the two computers, allowing data could be transferred from the old device. He reminded his apprentice not to just grab the first thing he saw but to take his time and choose wisely.
At the mouth of Shaft One, Yakhir was challenged by a mere archivist, but a weasel, nonetheless. The archivist attempted to cause trouble, but the argument grew loud. A master archivist emerged from a nearby tunnel and brought the obstructionist to heel, rudely. Yakhir withheld his bitter smile until the archivist was ushered into a tunnel. Once the obstructionist was out of sight, the master gave him a brief wave to continue on his way.
Yakhir marched the entire length of the shaft to L105 and walked down to the three-room storage bin of datapads, computers, and accessories belonging to the Martell Consortium, according to the manifest. The younger Yakhir had snatched from the first room and run like the wind in fear of being caught the first time. This time he waded through the various crates with his master’s blessing.
In the third room, Yakhir found more powerful datapads with more ports for various types of datacubes. He remembered the strange cubes of his latest project and searched for a compatible port. As he approached the back of the room, the last stack of crates was three crates high, a little unusual because every other stack was two or even just one crate high. As he drew near, he observed that the light lit the back of the crates, as if the crates were not against the back wall.
He climbed the stack of crates to investigate their contents. What he found was at least a meter gap behind the wall of crates. None of the crates had been opened, probably because no apprentice had come back this far and no Master Archivist was still agile enough or stupid enough to clamber up three crates. He popped the latches and the lid slid off the top to the side. He grabbed for the lid, only to watch it tip and fall against the back wall with a crash. Looking back at the contents of the crate, the datapads gleamed, and his gaze was lust and love at first sight.
“Here is a worthy replacement!” Yakhir said as he reached inside. He pulled the slim datapad from its packing material. He turned on the device, and the screen fired up immediately. The logo of the Martell Consortium flashed for a moment and faded to the prompt screen. He was almost drooling with anticipation.
Yakhir jerked his head upright. He heard voices in the tunnel, which should not be there. He listened a moment longer, identifying one voice as the nasty archivist who had attempted to stop him at the top of the Shaft. He was not surprised, but then again, he was.
Trusting his instincts, Yakhir climbed down the backside of the crates and hoisted the lid back on top, climbing up far enough only to lean over and secure the two latches. Then he dropped down into the dark bottom. He slid his new find into his sack and withdrew the dagger, holding it in his hand just in case. He held still, breathing quietly.
“Are you sure he was coming here?” Master Atto grilled his little informant as they stepped into the third room.
“I’m positive he was coming here to retrieve a datapad. He had a note from Master Kevit-Nakar with him,” the simpering snipe whined.
“He isn’t in here, now!” the older man snorted. “He’s probably holed up in one of the other rooms at this point, where we will not find him until he emerges from the Shaft. I wanted to catch him red-handed, damn it. The little shit may have wriggled out of my grasp this time, but his time is growing short, whether he knows it or not.”
Another pair of feet marched into the room. “The tunnel is empty, Archivist,” a gruff voice said. Yakhir allowed himself to smirk at the sound of the escort guard. His master had been correct, Atto could not travel in the tunnels without someone to keep him safe.
“Of course it is,” Atto said, his annoyance clear. “When my day is overbooked, nothing goes right. Kevit-Nakar is a doddering old fool and now, I shall have to fit his reprimand into my schedule as well. There is no rest for weary. Come!” he ordered.
The three turned and hustled out of the room, still yammering and whining. As their voices faded into the distance, Yakhir stretched his legs, rising from his crouch by using the back wall for support. He jerked away from the back wall when he realized that it was not stone; the wall was a ceramic of some sort. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he saw a series of ports built into the ceramic façade and a small, unopened crate on the floor in the corner. He started to run his fingers across the crate looking for its latches when he heard another set of feet running down the tunnel toward the room.
The mystery would have to wait for another day. He threw his sack on top and made ready to leap upon the next attacker from atop the three crated perch with his blade ready. The footsteps halted and then tentatively stepped into the third room. The knife felt sweating in Yakhir’s hand.
“Yakhir!” a familiar voice called out softly.
“I’m here,” he said as quietly as his greeter. He climbed down the front side of the crates and hopped down from the last crate.
“Are you okay? Did they find you?” his father’s former personal assistant asked him.
Yakhir assured the man that not only was he alright, but he was also safe. The two conspirators and their guard had not found him. He did not bother to add where he hid. As they left the cache, Yakhir swept up a typical datapad in his hand from the first room and carried it under his arm. The treasured one was already stowed in his sack.
Kemal escorted the young man down the tunnel and out into the empty shaft. Safe from hidden ears in the tunnels, Kemal assured Yakhir that the young archivist would suffer a broken leg or two before the sun rose again. Yakhir stared at the placid looking man with wonder in his eyes and even more admiration. He had further confirmation from another direction, an unexpected one, that the world had changed in the few days.
When they reached the top of the shaft, the quisling archivist was nowhere to be seen. Kemal handed Yakhir off to the watchman at the Shaft entrance, who escorted him over to the next shaft. Another archivist met him at the entrance and walked with him to Master Kevit-Nakar. Yakhir placed the simple datapad into his master’s hand and explained to him that Archivist Atto would insist on its return along with a reprimand by the end of the day. Safely under the watchful eyes of his master, he ducked into a tunnel and made his way to his new investigation, where he spent the rest of his day acclimating to his new toy. That evening he stashed his newest treasure in a niche across the way, out of concern that the Archivist might ambush him at the entrance to the Shaft.
This day Yakhir kept a close eye on the hour and left the site well before the sun set. No one challenged him as he emerged from the shaft. Still, he felt a myriad of eyes on his back as he walked down the mountain.
He arrived home before anyone else, which surprised him to no end. He relieved the nanny of the clingy Ayoub and sent a grateful woman on her way. He played silly games with his brother, waiting for everyone else to arrive home. Adilah came through the door and spied Yakhir on his hands and knees giving his brother a camel ride around the room. Yakhir glimpsed her as she stared longingly at the scene of her lover with a young child. He wondered if her secret wish was watching her own children playing on his back.
Making her entrance known, she scooped up Ayoub in her arms and took his place on Yakhir’s back before the young man could react. She leaned Ayoub over her shoulder and down her back, telling him to spank the camel’s butt to make him move faster. He did, and Yakhir howled in mock pain. Ayoub added his shrieks of delight to the twist on the game as the house became a cacophony of hoots and hollers as their mother walked in the door.
She smiled under the deep circles around her eyes. The world seemed wonderful, if only for a brief moment. Yakhir looked up at his mother and decided that he was embarrassed. He went flat on his belly, causing Adilah and Ayoub to flop down on top of him. The protests and squalls began. Their mother came over to separate the feuding children and undo the pile. She swooped up her youngest and laid a foot on Yakhir’s back to pin him to the floor.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.