LARGETONY Blog

NOTE: I have not seen the movie “Brokeback Mountain.” This is just sort of a spoof based on what I have seen in trailers, with my own ideas tossed on top of it. It’s not a commentary on anything, just me wanting to write something. Just meant to be entertaining.

Continued from Part Three

Jingleshanks loved lying with his head against Flintwinkle’s furry chest, listening to the rapid heartbeat. He especially enjoyed it after making love. Several weeks had passed since Mrs. Claus’ “Come Together” and the two elves had shared themselves with each other more times than there had been weeks. It seemed like the more they were together, the more they desired each other.

It was Saturday afternoon, a day of relaxation and play at The Silver Whiskers, so Flintwinkle and Jingleshanks had the hayloft all to themselves…for relax and play. Flintwinkle had just rolled Jingleshanks onto his belly to begin another round of play when he heard calling from below.

“Boss! Boss!” Flintwinkle recognized the throaty shout as Buttercrumpet, a tubby little elf who ran the bunkhouse kitchen. Flintwinkle and Jingleshanks scrambled back into their clothes. “You stay up here,” Flintwinkle said with a quick peck on the lips. “And keep quiet.” Jingleshanks nodded, continuing to dress as Flintwinkle descended the ladder to meet Buttercrumpet.

“I went to your place, but Gingertwist said you were working today,” Buttercrumpet wheezed. He’d obviously been running. He went on to explain that word had come down from the Big Man (how they all referred to Santa) that a small herd of wild reindeer had been discovered up on Gumdrop Mountain. “He wants them brought down before they get too old to break.” Flintwinkle understood why the Big Man was sending word to him. Not only was he the finest trainer, but also no one knew his way around Gumdrop Mountain like he did.

“Buttercrumpet, pack me up a couple days worth of chow and let Santa know I’ll be on my way up before sundown.” Flintwinkle ordered. “In fact, set up enough food for two. It’s going to take a couple of us to move ‘em down.” Buttercrumpet nodded and hurried, as best as his short legs and fat body would allow, out the door. He got a couple of steps away then turned back to Flintwinkle with a look of confusion. “Boss, you wearing Jingleshanks hat? You never had bells on your hat before.”

Flintwinkle realized that, in the rush to dress, he had accidentally grabbed the wrong hat. Without betraying their secret in the slightest, he stoically responded, “Yeah. He’s had troubled adjusting to the cold up here. My cap is lined with fur, so we traded.” Buttercrumpet seemed to buy the explanation, although he added, “Well, I’d take them bells off, if I was you, boss. You ain’t the bells type.”

Jingleshanks climbed down from the loft after Buttercrumpet disappeared. “Guess we ought to be more careful,” he said, reaching to retrieve his hat from Flintwinkle. Flintwinkle batted his hand away. “I already told him we traded. It’s gonna look funny if we trade back. So, I may as well just keep wearing bells.” Flintwinkle said it very matter of fact, but Jingleshanks knew that it was his way of saying he liked wearing something belonging to him. “Now, get down to the bunkhouse and pack your satchel. We need to get out of here before long.”

“You’re taking me?” Jingleshanks could hardly contain himself. “I’m figuring I’m going to need some help.” Flintwinkle responded. “May as well be you.”

A half hour later, Flintwinkle was in his parlor explaining to his wife that he’d be away a few days. “Santa didn’t say it had to be you,” she cried. “It’s too dangerous up there on Gumdrop Mountain this time of year. Send somebody else.” He did his best to reason with her, to make her understand that it was a part of his job and his duty. “What about your duty to your family?”

“I do my duty to my family. I make a living and provide for you, don’t I?” Flintwinkle snarled.

“You keep us fed and clothed and housed. But do you keep us in your heart?” Gingertwist asked. When Flintwinkle responded that, of course, he did, his wife sadly added, “A heart is only so big. And it’s starting feel crowded with Jingleshanks in there, too.”

A silence fell between them. It felt like hours although it was only a few seconds before Flintwinkle spoke. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gathered his belongings for his trip and headed to the front door. Gingertwist followed, grabbing hold of his arm to stop him. “I do know what I’m talking about,” she insisted. “And you know what I’m talking about.”

True to his nature, Flintwinkle only wanted to escape. He pulled away and picked up his step across the yard. “But this is the end of it, you hear?” Gingertwist shouted at his back. “You put a stop to it. Give him back his cap and humiliate me no more.”

Jingleshanks knew something was bothering Flintwinkle. His friend had been silent most of the ride into the foothills of Gumdrop Mountain. Flintwinkle was, of course, atop Blitzen while Jingleshanks had Cupid as his mount. They were well through Peppermint Pass before Flintwinkle broke the silence. “There’s no place else like this, you know. It’s God’s Country.” He lovingly described, for Jingleshanks, the natural wonder and beauty of their location. In the weeks that he had known Flintwinkle, Jingleshanks had never seen him so animated and joyous. Something about Gumdrop Mountain made Flintwinkle alive.

Nightfall arrived as the duo reached Flintwinkle’s his favorite spot on Gumdrop Mountain, perhaps his favorite spot in the world. Sugar Ridge was about two-thirds the way up to the summit and looked out over the arctic terrain with the glimmering lights of Santa Land below. Flintwinkle walked Blitzen to the edge of the ridge to survey the view. Jingleshanks held back, both out of respect and in order to take in the sight of Flintwinkle’s rugged form astride the massive reindeer, the silhouette backed by the colors of the northern lights. Jingleshanks was as awed by this as Flintwinkle was by the panorama.

At the mouth of a nearby cave, Flintwinkle and Jingleshanks set up camp for the night. They cooked up a dinner over a fire while Blitzen and Cupid fed from bags. After the meal, they stayed by the fire. Jingleshanks laid his head in Flintwinkle’s lap as they looked out over the valley. The wind whistled quietly across the face of the mountain. “It ain’t supposed to be like this, “ Flintwinkle mumbled as he stroked Jingleshanks’ hair. “Something’s got a hold of me and it just won’t let go. I wish I knew how to make it let go, but I don’t.”

Afraid of the answer, Jingleshanks asked anyway, “Is that what you really want? For it to let go?” It wasn’t an answer that was quick in coming, but in the end, Jingleshanks was glad for the wait when Flintwinkle gave him a solemn, “No.”

Jingleshank’s gripped the back of Flintwinkle’s thick neck and pulled himself upright to kiss him. This time, without hesitation, Flintwinkle responded, wrapping his strong arms around Jingleshanks and giving in as well as giving back to the crushing kiss. “About damn time,” Cupid whispered to Blitzen, who only shook his head and chuckled.

Flintwinkle leaned Jingleshanks back and crawled on top of him, their tongues lashing at each other’s mouths. Jingleshanks ran his hands under Flintwinkle’s heavy shirt, roaming up and down his back, feeling the tension in his steely muscles. Their lips parted only long enough to inhale in gasps before returning to greedy licking, chewing, and kissing. Flintwinkle’s hands fought against Jingleshanks’ writing beneath him to undo his belt. Jingleshanks loosened Flintwinkle’s pants, as well, until both had erections springing forth. Slithering against Flintwinkle’s meaty thigh, Jingleshanks savored the feeling of his dick rubbing between his partner’s leg and crotch. He spread his own legs and let Flintwinkle dry-hump him, dick to dick.

Jingleshanks was now extended to full hardness across his tight belly, a thin stream was even leaking from his meat. Fascinated, Flintwinkle wrapped his fist around it and spread the goo with his thumb. Then pulling the strong young erection toward him, Flintwinkle lowered his mouth. Jingleshanks groaned out load as the hot slippery lips closed around his throbbing cock, sliding and sucking firmly as he thrusted up to meet them. The feeling made his head swim like he was drunk. “Careful,” he warned. “You are going to make it shoot.”

Not yet ready to quit, Flintwinkle pulled his mouth from the straining member and sat back on his heels. Jingleshanks legs were wrapped around his waist, so he used his strong hands to stroke and caress them, raking against them with his fingernails. Flintwinkle pushed one of his calloused fingers into the pout of Jingleshanks’ mouth. Instinctively, Jingleshanks wetted and sucked on the digit. Flintwinkle followed by adding a second finger, both of which he then used to caress the fine hairs around Jingleshanks’ hole and to lubricate his rectum.

Always in the past, their sexual encounters had been, quick, aggressive, and fleeting. For the first time, Jingleshanks felt that he and Flintwinkle were making love. Intoxicated by the idea, he rocked his hips in rhythm with the stroking and probing of his buttocks. Flintwinkle’s big chest was heaving and his torso shaking with desire. A creature of habit, he spit a thick wad of spit into his hand and smeared it over his heavy bigness. He placed the swollen head against the tight bunghole and pressed his way into Jingleshanks. In one long steady thrust, he entered fully, making them both gasp.

They lay there for a moment, belly to belly, letting their urgent needs to orgasm subside some, all the while Flintwinkle lightly trailing his tongue over Jingleshanks plump lips and tender neck. It was as if they were meant to be so connected. Flintwinkle’s tenderness only made Jingleshanks hotter, so he began to rock his ass up to him. In return, Flintwinkle started humping back, bracing himself with his hand planted on either side of Jingleshanks’ chest. Gazing down on his lover, he could not fight the urge to dip his head and taste Jingleshank’s nipples, cutting his tongue across them in wet swaths, playfully nipping at them.

The pressure was building steadily in Flintwinkle’s nuts, a fire burning in his gut. He clamped his mouth over Jingleshanks’ and began fucking in earnest, shoving his cock as deeply into the warm moist ass as he did his tongue into the hot wet mouth. He would pull most of himself out then use his weight to sink the entirety fully inside with each hard thrust. Jingleshanks moaned and howled under the sweet intensity of the pounding. “Go ahead and scream,” Flintwinkle grunted. “It’s just you, me, and the sky.”

Flintwinkle became an elf enflamed with desire. He took Jingleshanks in his grip again and snapped up the pace of his thrusts, sliding his powerful hard-on in and out of the steamy asshole while his fist flew over his buddy’s prick. His cock piston-pumped the fuckhole and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“I’m there,” he groaned. Jingleshanks was, too. He felt the big prick shake and a huge gush sprayed the walls inside him, causeing his own cock to erupt with a foot-long stream that rocketed over his head before shooting buckets of jizz onto Flintwinkle’s burly chest. Both elves thrashed with after shocks in the after glow. They kissed again, more deeply and more passionately than ever. They fell asleep, there, by the fire, spent and wrapped in each other’s arms.

Two days later, Jingleshanks and Flintwinkle returned to the Silver Whiskers moving a small herd of bucks and does into the corral. Santa was going to be very pleased, Flintwinkle figured. He was sure of the fact when he was summoned to the Big Man’s office. When he got there, rather than the pat-on-the-back and praise he expected, he was instead admonished. The Big Man called Flintwinkle on the recklessness of his “un-natural” friendship with Jingleshanks. Flintwinkle tried to play ignorant to his boss’ accusations. He was quickly shut down. “Oh, spare me,” the jolly old man said, “I know when you’ve been bad or good.”

Santa then delivered the most crushing and final blow. “Jingleshanks is being sent back to Hollow Tree. He is not welcome at Silver Whiskers any longer.” Flintwinkle’s heart sank at the news. Santa suggested he go home and make things right with his wife. He then added, “Leave the hat. We’ll make sure it gets back to him.” Flintwinkle removed Jingleshank’s hat from his head and left it on his seat. Returning to his trademark stoicism, Flintwinkle turned and silently left the room.

Moving like a zombie, he left the castle and started the long walk home in a daze. From the overcast sky a gentle snow started to fall. It grew heavier with every step he took and the winds grew bitter. For the first time ever, Flintwinkle was aware of the cold. He reached the gate of his yard but could not make himself cross it. As he stood there, shivering in the falling snow, he heard the whistle of the North Pole Express. The train was just coming in. That meant there still could be time.

Jingleshanks was physically ushered onto the train by a pair of “black stocking” elves. They were the Big Man’s muscle and were used to take care of “business.” Today, he was that business. He took a seat by the window facing Santa Land. He wanted a last look at the place, as it would be the last time he would ever see it. He reflected fondly on his short time there and of Flintwinkle, who, for him, was the magic of Santa Land. He worried what was to become of Flintwinkle. He could get away, was being sent away, in fact. But Flintwinkle was trapped.

The stench of burned chocolate filled the air as the train started to pull away from the platform. A slowly building “chug-chug” came from the turning wheels. The last car was just getting away from the station as Jingleshanks looked down to see Flintwinkle running alongside it. Jingleshanks quickly jumped up and raced to the back of the rear car. Just as he stepped outside, Flintwinkle leapt on, hanging on the rail.

“What are you doing,” Jingleshanks asked. “You can’t leave Santa Land.”

“Not now, but I will.” Flintwinkle promised. “I have to make things right with Gingertwist, and then I will. But I had to say goodbye, for now.” Flintwinkle kissed Jingleshanks fiercely, then jumped off the moving train. He ran along behind it, not wanting to take his eyes off Jingleshanks. “You’ll see. I will,” he shouted. The train began picking up steam and Flintwinkle began to fall behind. Jingleshanks called out and tossed his hat out to him. Flintwinkle caught the hat and stopped on the tracks, shouting to the figure on the disappearing train, “You’re mine!”

On his way home, Flintwinkle made a detour to the ranch. He wanted to keep Jingleshanks’ cap safe in his locker there. Before putting it away, he took a moment, remembering the way he got the hat in the first place. Just as he was stepping out of the stables, Buttercrumpet was returning from the marketplace. “Isn’t horrible? They said none of them stood a chance.” Flintwinkle, of course, had no idea what the fat little elf was talking about. “Didn’t you hear? The train. Wasn’t even ten miles out of town and there was a sugar slide off Gumdrop Mountain. Covered the whole train.”

“Jingleshanks,” Flintwinkle demanded. “What about Jingleshanks?”

“Everybody’s gone. Nobody survived, “ Buttercrumpet said, soberly. “Why was Jingleshanks on the train?”

Flintwinkle didn’t answer. His mind was clouded with a thousand emotions. He ran back into the stables and tore open his locker to retrieve Jingleshanks jingling cap. He roused Blitzen from slumber by leaping onto the beast’s back. The moment Blitzen rose, Flintwinkle dug his heels into him and off they flew.

Blitzen was guided to Gumdrop Mountain and landed on Sugar Ridge, where Jingleshanks and Flintwinkle had fully shared their love just two nights ago. Flintwinkle looked over the valley. He saw Santa Land glistening and betraying him with happiness, and over on the other side of Peppermint Pass was a team of rescue elves digging out a tiny toy-like train, buried under mounds of sugar.

Flintwinkle clutched the jingling cap to his chest, sank to his knees, and cried.

THE END

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