Free Guys and Trolls by Barry Lowe Page A

attempted to clear his fuzzy brain—his life depended on it—and spread his arms like rudders to slow his downward trajectory. If only I could get an erection now , he thought, that would really slow me down. Einarr was rightly proud of his cock but he wondered whether now was the appropriate time to be thinking of it. What the hell! If I'm not about to survive I might as well go thinking about sex.
    Einarr did a lot of thinking about sex. And dreaming about sex. He rubbed himself raw thinking about it. You do that when you're not getting much. And he wasn't. He couldn't remember the last time. The other mountain trolls were a humorless bunch. Came with the territory, he supposed. Not much fun living underground for thousands of years never seeing the sun: trolls are allergic to the sun's rays. In fact, you could say we're petrified of it, Einarr chuckled to himself. But it was a serious concern. He had friends caught out in the watery dawn light turn to stone. It was the death of choice for those trolls who couldn't stand the loneliness and deprivation of their profession.
    The pain in his lungs snapped Einarr's attention back to the reality of his situation. He wondered if the nostalgia had been his life flashing before his eyes in the lead up to death. He would not give up without a fight. Using his powerful legs and arms, he began his rapid ascent back toward the surface. At least he hoped he was headed that way because the murk was notorious for misleading drowning wayfarers. Lack of oxygen was sapping his strength, his huge body in agony.
    His lungs were about to burst through his chest when he bobbed to the surface gulping in air frantically, paddling with his arms to stay afloat. He took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, those yoga lessons had come in handy after all. Bobbing about in the North Atlantic like a hairy cork meant he was still alive but unless he found something to cling to he was doomed. He was miles from shore and could never swim the distance, trolls bloated in sea water like a sponge, but if he could just find the source of the lights he saw on his downward spiral he might...
    He turned and coming his way, bearing down on him were those very lights. It was a ship. A very large ship and if he could just avoid the propellers and steady himself in the choppy seas he could spring a good way up the side of the vessel and perhaps clamber on board. Staying calm was difficult. If he misjudged the distance or the force of his jump then...he shuddered to think of it.
    His whole body tense, coiled ready to spring, his mind repeating positive thoughts, he was calculating the distance between himself and the behemoth of the sea bearing down on him. Steady. Ready. Ju... Fuck! Something hit him in the head dazing him. He'd submerged momentarily and when he broke the surface again he shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the seawater from his ears, he needed all his wits about him to survive, and to banish the pain. Then he heard it. It wasn't something that had bounced off his skull. It was someone. Someone who was now gasping, wheezing and thrashing about quite close by.
    He had seconds to decide. Make the leap and save himself. Or go to the aid of the person floundering, thus, surely, ensuring they both lost their lives. It was a no brainer for Einarr. He swam toward the sounds of the losing struggle. Grabbing him from behind to hold his head above water, Einarr realized it was a young man, a very attractive young man. A bit skinnier than his usual taste but what a beauty. Einarr's cock went rigid and because of their proximity, it wedged itself against the drowning beauty's ass.
    The young man, semi-conscious from the seawater he'd swallowed, slipped his hand down to squeeze Einarr's erection.
    “Are you an angel?” the young man asked, turning his head to gaze at his rescuer.
    Einarr couldn't help himself and caressed the young man's body as they struggled to stay afloat.
    “Mmmm. Am I