Judah awoke slowly. Groggily. His jaw and ribs ached. “Buck?” He tasted dried blood on his lips.
Buck ran a wet cloth over Judah’s forehead. “I’m here. You’re safe. I’m sorry about those miscreants. He’s an ass.”
Judah pushed himself upright. “Have they no respect for themselves, or others?”
“There are always those who will subjugate others—there always will be. It is the same in nature. Evanston is a bully. I’m afraid you may have cracked ribs. He will be punished, nevertheless.”
“Will the goddess punish him? I will not seek retaliation. It is not the way of my clan.” He paused. “What time is it?” He rubbed his head. “I’ve missed prayers. First time. It takes a beating to keep me from my devotions.” He laughed at his own joke.
Buck ran his hands through his white hair. “Ev shall make amends in the slaughter house. His world will be filled with death, while yours, life.”
“Fitting.” Judah chuckled. “I feel odd missing prayers. I don’t believe in them, yet they were a source of consistency my entire life.”
“At the Farm, there are no formal prayers. Your labor is your prayer.”
“I’m afraid I will be of no use until my ribs are more tightly bound.”
“I’ve wrapped them as tightly as I could,” Buck replied. “You’ll grow accustomed to the pain, and then, it will fade completely.”
Judah reclined. “This place is not what I thought it would be.”
“Nor will it remain as it is now. The revolution is upon us. Elders from surrounding communities are making their way here. The true nature of the harvest is about to be revealed.”
Judah closed his eyes. “Is there a goddess?” He felt Buck’s soft lips touch his. He returned the kiss, willingly. He flicked his tongue and found it met by Buck’s.
As the embrace cooled, Buck spoke against his mouth. “The Spirit of the Harvest is with you, now.”
Judah chuckled. “It is not a woman I feel next to me, sir. It is your hardness my hand seeks.”
“It is a common misconception, and one I see no need to correct, the Spirit of the Harvest is a goddess. Judah, I am the seed of the harvest and you are the love that will give me root and send my shoots forth.”
“You are the goddess?”
“I would not use those words, but yes. The Spirit of the Harvest passed on after a long season. A very long season. When she coupled with me…she passed her gifts. Nature is not fixed. It is ever-evolving. The spirit saw the stagnation of the people and evolved to enact change. She needed someone like me. Someone like you.” Buck sighed. “The people are potatoes dug up fresh from the field. The sack in which they are stored is their faith. What happens when you put dirty potatoes in a bag and leave them in the dark?”
“Spoilage.”
“What must you do to prevent rot?”
“Shake the bag so that the potatoes rub against one and another and brush off the dirt.”
Buck nodded. “Yes. The spirit wished to shake the bag. And so I became the eyes and ears of the harvest.”
“We’re going to make ripples in the pool,” Judah replied.
Buck nodded. “We’re going to make a tidal wave.”
“I want to ride your wave, Buck.” Judah reached down to stroke Buck’s burgeoning erection through his thick canvas work pants.
Buck turned down the bedclothes which covered Judah and buried his face in Hay’s crotch. Judah sank into the darkness of oral pleasure. Buck’s deft hand and warm tongue against his member left him nearly speechless. His orgasm flowed from him. He kept his eyes closed—lost in the pleasurable darkness.
Buck stood, his dick protruding through his pants. “Can you take me? Are you well enough to take me?”
Drained, Judah rolled over and pulled his legs under him. “Fill me. Your touch is a balm to my bruised flesh.” He lurched forward as Buck rammed his hardness into him. He met the thrusts, hoping to capture every inch of Buck’s cock. He laughed as the hot spill filled him.
“I am the soil to your seed,” he whispered.
Buck slapped his ass. “Hard work brings salvation.”
Hay rolled over. Beams of sunlight filtered in through skylights, creating a halo around Buck’s white head. Over Buck’s shoulder, a hand-painted relief of the goddess and Spirit of the Harvest framed his strong shoulders. In the haze of the sunlight it appeared as though golden stalks of corn and wheat sprouted from Buck’s flesh. “She passed the spirit to you.”
“She did.”
“What if she had not? I am unchanged. My love does not lie within the arms of a woman. How did she know for me to fulfill my destiny she would need—”
“Me?” Buck asked.
“You.”
“Nothing can stop winter from turning into spring and spring from passing into summer and summer into autumn.”
“It is the natural order of things.”
Buck nodded. “It is the natural order of things, restored. Come now. Dress. We have work to do.”
Hay laughed. “Hard work brings salvation.”
“We must buck the hay from cart to loft. This is a working farm, after all.”
Judah Hayaam El-Bara stood and gingerly took a step. “You just did buck hay.”
“Like love, work has no limits. If you are well enough, let’s go to work.”
* * * *
The late afternoon sun beat down upon them as if a mallet upon a tent spike. Sweat poured from Judah’s brow and soaked his clothing. There were a dozen at the first barn, Buck and himself, included. The work was hard, but made easier by many hands.
Across the compound, six other lofts were busy being filled by other hands.
“When do we start?”
Buck pulled off his shirt. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been bucking hay for over an hour.”
“No, Buck. The demonstrations? The revolt.”
Buck laughed. “This is it.”
“What?”
“Were you expecting warfare? Weapons of mass destruction? Nature moves in more fluid, subtle ways.”
Judah shook his head. “You speak in riddles.”
“I’m just here to buck hay.”
Judah ran his fingers across Buck’s glistening shoulder blades. “You’ve been doing that for days.”
Buck chuckled. “Hard work brings salvation.” He playfully cupped his crotch before pulling another bale off the wagon. “I smell rain.”
“There’s not a cloud in the sky,” Judah replied.
“Let’s you and I go up to the loft and push the bales to the back,” Buck ordered. “You others, cover the hay already in the wagons. I tell you, hard rain is coming.”
Judah climbed up the ladder to the barn loft. “You say rain is coming, and who am I to argue with the only surviving lover of a goddess?”
“I was never her lover. She mounted me. My body reacted accordingly. The Spirit of the Harvest can rouse even the most crotchety old bugger like me.”
“You are not old, Buck. You are the embodiment of the seasons.” Judah dropped to his knees, genuflecting. “And I am your servant.”
Buck entwined his fingers in Judah’s hair. “Are you ready for what comes next?”
“Your penis, in my mouth?”
“I hear the distant approach of the elders. The tide shall soon be turned and a more enlightened era shall commence.”
Judah rubbed his face against Buck’s crotch. “If rituals are performed, it will be with meaning and without fear.”
“Love shall be without limit. Both the act and the emotion shall be as boundless as the horizon.”
“And the Spirit of the Harvest will thrive,” Judah said. “And we shall enjoy the fruits of our labors and ride our horses across the land, sharing the abundance and love.”
Buck slipped his pants down. “I like that.”
Judah fondled Buck’s cock. “I like this.”