Authors: Tracy St. John
In the twilight darkness of the market,
Egilka blinked to adjust to the sudden change from the glare
outside. He’d never been in Below before, though he’d heard of it.
The market was almost exclusively populated by Dantovonians. It was
not part of the usual tourist trade.
The packed red-clay earth was tight
around them, the ceiling low enough to almost scrape the tops of
the Kalquorians’ heads. It was claustrophobic with all the
Dantovonians around them, hop-waddling along the packed dirt floor
and scrabbling in a somehow orderly frenzy along the walls many
clung to. Then the tunnel opened up, making space for stalls on
either side. With the walls gone, Dantovonians were forced to
congest the floor. The amphibian-insectoid race hopped all around
as they ran their errands, often landing on each other as they
traveled. No one minded being a landing or launching pad. They kept
going without comment, jostling and bouncing off one another in a
frenzy of movement. Egilka cupped his crotch as his body was
rebounded against by one hopping alien after another.
Clajak glanced back at him and laughed.
“I was going to warn you to do that. Body armor would be a good
idea in Below, wouldn’t it?”
Egilka was overwhelmed by the seething
activity around them. The buzzing, chirruping conversation of the
planet’s natives deafened as it echoed around him. He couldn’t
think for the irritating noise. He looked at the stalls they passed
with longing. Most were as seedy-looking as the drug dealer’s den
he’d bought the sedative from that morning. The rest were even
worse. Barely holes in the tunnel’s walls, they featured tables
filled with questionable concoctions to drink, inhale, or inject;
foodstuffs that were edible only to Dantovonians and often
screaming in their cages; and wagering tickets on everything from
tonight’s shuttle races to how many lashes from shockwhips it would
take to execute felons. As Egilka passed one stall, he saw a
Dantovonian trader slash off one of six legs of another Dantovonian
attempting to steal a small vial of hallucinogenic. It was the
gritty underbelly of a planet that put a price on everything it
could sell. Unlike the surface of the city with its bright lights
and entertainments, there was no attempt to pretty up anything down
here.
Still, the activity within those
holes-in-the-wall was tame compared to the melee that the Imdiko
and Clajak navigated through. Egilka longed to stop in one and
catch his breath ... and calm the panic induced by the bodies
rebounding off him.
In front of him, Clajak traipsed
through with an assuredness that told Egilka the prince had been in
Below more than once. Staring at the back of Clajak’s steel-colored
head didn’t mask the other man’s cocksure attitude. Clajak’s
arrogant self-assurance pissed the Imdiko off more than ever. He
stopped in the middle of the floor. Dantovonians continued to
bounce off of his body with no concern.
The sudden halt made Egilka realize
Clajak still held his arm. The Dramok jerked to a stop too. He
turned to Egilka, his expression questioning. His body jolted as
Dantovonians bounded on and off him. Clajak didn’t seem to
notice.
Buffeted from all sides, Egilka yelled
over the buzzing conversation, “Where are you going?”
Clajak motioned that they should keep
moving forward. “I’m hungry. Come on. I know one stall that I can
guarantee isn’t serving up anything sentient on the
menu.”
The thought of eating anything down in
the tunnels made Egilka’s stomach queasy. He shook his head. “I’m
leaving. I’m not staying here.”
Clajak looked at him with undisguised
surprise. “Really? Honestly, this place isn’t so bad and you can
enjoy some authentic Dantovonian cuisine that won’t hurt your
conscience. You’ll find decent souvenirs from amazing craftsmen,
along with rare liquor you can’t get anywhere else. There are some
honest merchants here. Just mind your business and haggle
politely.”
He wasn’t getting it, and that made
Egilka’s slow temper spike. Clajak had to be the most clueless
person he’d ever known. The man was a menace to himself and
everyone around him.
Knowing how temperamental he sounded
but unable to stop himself, Egilka yelled, “I’m going back to
Kalquor right now. You can stay here and eat your Dantovonian food,
fuck your prostitutes, and get killed by Tragooms or enslaved by a
Bi’isil. I no longer give a fuck, Clajak. I’ve got better things to
do.”
Clajak rolled his eyes. Rocking from
side to side as Dantovonians jostled him, he sneered, “There it is
yet again: Imdiko Egilka; he had work to do.”
Egilka yanked his arm free of the
prince’s grip. His fists clenched, he shouted, “You stupid child!
You nearly got noosed out there. Do you think anyone of those
people around us would have stopped it? Those Tragooms would have
dragged your ass back to their Bi’isil master and the rest would
have cheered the entertainment.”
Clajak had the nerve to look as if
Egilka had disappointed him. His tone was every bit as chastising
as the Imdiko’s. “At least I could have claimed to have had some
fun before it all ended. Life is more than just duty and promises,
Egilka. Do you really think your sister wanted you to lock yourself
away from life in her memory?”
Egilka inhaled sharply. “You shut your
mouth about her!”
“Why? If Cyrt loved you half as much as
you loved her, she’d be beating you over the head right now, trying
to knock some sense into you. She’d want you to live, damn
it!”
“I am living!”
“No you’re not. You don’t know the
meaning of the word.” Clajak flicked his hand at Egilka
dismissively.
The Imdiko wished he had the strength
and skill to whip the man. “So tell me, oh great sage of Kalquor.
What does living mean? Fucking all the time? Goofing off? Running
away from your duties?”
Clajak’s expression hardened.
“Sometimes. Sometimes it means daring to come out of your lab and
delaying doing what your elders tell you to do. Even if I did end
up a slave on Bi’is, that wouldn’t end Kalquor. When you think
about the entire universe, I’m not that important and neither are
you. So let’s have some fun.”
Egilka had heard enough. It was obvious
that Clajak didn’t care he’d brushed up against certain doom only
minutes ago. The man didn’t care, not about his duties or even
about his promised clanmate.
Egilka didn’t want to be anywhere
around Clajak anymore. Ever. It wasn’t worth the hurt that had
sprung up unbidden and unexpected in his heart.
He made his own dismissive gesture.
“Fuck you. You want to see me turn my back on duty? Fine. I’m going
home and seeing if our contract to clan can be dissolved. I don’t
want you for a Dramok.”
He turned away, refusing to believe
he’d seen Clajak’s expression turn devastated. It hadn’t. All
Clajak cared about was himself. He didn’t give a shit for
Egilka.
His thoughts seething, the Imdiko
headed back the way he’d come in, pressing against the wildly
hopping Dantovonian bodies.
He managed all of half a dozen steps
when Clajak’s iron grip circled his bicep and yanked him around.
Egilka had just enough time to see the determined look on Clajak’s
face before the other man lowered and shoved his shoulder into the
Imdiko’s gut.
Egilka made a woof sound, the air
driven out of him. He found himself lifted on Clajak’s shoulder,
draped like a stole across the prince’s chest and back. He was too
stunned to react as Clajak waded through the buzzing
Dantovonians.
Egilka snatched a breath and struggled
against his captor. Another breath gave him the ability of speech
once again. He yelled, “What the hell do you think you’re
doing?”
There was a crack like thunder as
Clajak walloped his ass with a brutal smack. Pain seared the
fleshiest part of one cheek, eliciting a yelp from the Imdiko. He
fought to jerk free.
More blistering pain as Clajak landed
another blow on Egilka’s vulnerable rear. The prince yelled, “Stop
fighting me or I’ll beat you bare-assed in front of everyone.
They’ll be thrilled with the free show.”
Egilka’s face burned as hot as his
throbbing butt in humiliation. With no hope of surprising Clajak,
the Dramok had the physicality to overcome him. A beating would be
more embarrassing than being hauled around like a sack of
produce.
The Imdiko yelled his dismay. “This
public display is beneath Kalquorians of our standing! Put me
down!”
The return shout cut through the
buzzing maelstrom with a note of humor. “Certainly. Just a
moment.”
Egilka peeked to see where they were.
Clajak strode into a tiny space between two stalls, taking them out
of the overwhelming Below traffic. Egilka saw his tormentor toss
something at a young Dantovonian sitting a couple of paces in. The
segmented face of the alien ground together in a weird
approximation of a grin as he snatched the thrown money card out of
the air. Then Clajak carried Egilka through a curtained-off
opening, which the Dantovonian swept closed behind them. The noise
of the crowd outside halved. Egilka’s ears rang in
relief.
Clajak hefted Egilka off his shoulder,
putting him on his still smarting ass on the dirt floor of the
tiny, unadorned room. The Dramok deposited him gently enough, but
Egilka winced anyway. Clajak had a nasty spanking hand.
The prince stood over him, looking down
with a set expression. A sense of authority came off him as he
stared at Egilka. The powerful body, dominant stance, and riveting
eyes combined to make Egilka cower. The Imdiko felt vulnerable at
Clajak’s feet, very much the weaker of the pair.
For some reason his cocks jerked as he
took in the man standing over him. Egilka tried to ignore the
excitement sending warmth to his groin. If Clajak had any idea of
the effect his display of command had on the Imdiko, then there
would be no telling what might happen.
Egilka got his feet under him. He moved
carefully, not knowing what to expect from the Dramok. Yet he did
his best to appear unaffected by Clajak, pretending he was not
intimidated or enticed by the other man. He would continue to play
the situation as if angry ... though his fury had already
ebbed.
He gave Clajak what he hoped was a
convincing scowl as he dusted dirt off his clothing. “Fine. You
found us some privacy to talk at normal conversational levels. Say
what you want and then get out of my way.”
Clajak’s arms folded over his chest.
The posture made his biceps bulge in a way that turned Egilka’s
mouth dry. “You’re going to honor our arranged clanning, Imdiko.
You will not call it off.”
The forbidding voice fueled the heat in
Egilka’s groin. Damn it, when Clajak turned the authority on he was
much too tempting. Egilka had the urge to jump on the man and rub
himself all over his muscular body.
Instead he asked in a frosty tone, “Why
shouldn’t I? You’ve made it plain you don’t want me as your Imdiko.
Otherwise you would have been on Kalquor when it came time to
announce our union.”
Clajak’s jaw tensed. “Just because I
delayed it doesn’t mean I don’t want it.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.
I come here to get you, you fuck me, and you leave.” A note of hurt
tried to creep into Egilka’s tone. He quashed it.
“I’m here now. I’m not running away, am
I? That’s you this time.”
Clajak’s arms lowered to his sides. His
gaze filled with steely intent as he took a step towards Egilka.
Now he wasn’t a commanding Dramok; he had become a predator. A
thrill shot down Egilka’s spine. Clajak took another step towards
him. Egilka backed away, unsure if he wanted to be caught or
not.
A cruel smile twisted one corner of
Clajak’s mouth up. “Still trying to get away from me? You’re out of
running room, my intended.”
At that moment, Egilka’s back and butt
collided with the dirt wall. Clajak kept coming, not stopping until
his body mashed up against the Imdiko’s. His face filled Egilka’s
vision, moving ever closer, lips parting for a kiss.
Egilka jerked his head to one side to
avoid it. Clajak seized him by the jaw. The implacable iron grip
forced his face forward. Then the prince’s lips were on his.
Clajak’s mouth worked, imposing the kiss on the Imdiko, his tongue
prying its way inside his mouth. Egilka tried to slam his hands
against the Dramok’s shoulders, to shove him back. Instead, his
fingers knotted themselves in the fabric of Clajak’s formsuit,
twisting to hold on for dear life.
Clajak’s kiss seared Egilka’s mouth,
burning away every rational thought, every survival impulse. It was
as if the prince poured lust down the Imdiko’s throat in a hot
flood, filling his gut with unabashed need. Egilka’s cocks swelled
with eagerness and prodded against Clajak’s lower
abdomen.
Accepting their invitation, the
Dramok’s hand slid over Egilka’s groin. The Imdiko groaned, coming
up on his tiptoes as Clajak fondled him, making him hard. Clajak’s
thumb found the crotch seam and slit it open. The prince’s knowing
hands gripped both cocks, coaxing them out of Egilka’s pants. He
rubbed up and down from bases to tips.
Egilka cried out, his hips jerking to
fill that expert touch with himself. He rutted into Clajak’s hands,
sweet rapture taking hold of his groin. He wanted that tight grip
to remain on him until he came. If it didn’t, he thought he might
die.