Authors: Tracy St. John
By the time he stopped, they were close
enough to the city’s edge to catch a whiff of the fetid jungle on
its outskirts. The inn where Egilka was booked was a nice one. It
sat far out of the riotous center of the sprawling expanse of the
city, only a few streets from where the jungle began. Upon arriving
at the accommodations earlier that day, Egilka had appreciated it
for the quiet as well as comfort. It helped that it was run by
Joshadans, who were a fair-minded and quiet species
themselves.
Clajak looked at the three-story molded
stone structure before him with its balconies and graceful arches.
Egilka saw that the Dramok had barely broken a sweat from his run
despite the humidity. Egilka self-consciously pulled on his
perspiration-dampened collar.
Clajak grinned at him. “Well, that was
a fun excursion.”
Egilka tried not to be moody and
failed. “Sure, if you think nearly being captured and enslaved by a
Bi’isil is fun. Come on, my prince.”
He headed for the inn’s entrance.
Clajak fell in step beside him. They came into the grand entryway
and both paused to bow to the purple-furred Joshadan greeter.
Respect accorded, Egilka led the way to his room down the vaulted
corridor.
“These are your lodgings?” Clajak
smirked at the bouquets of flowers lining the walls and the slow,
sensual music piping through the sound system. His grin grew even
larger when they went inside the suite of rooms.
Egilka managed not to cringe. The suite
was sumptuous, designed to be a romantic retreat. Aromatic flowers
abounded, along with art vids depicting sensual scenes. The
furnishings were soft and billowy, inviting the guests to lounge or
wallow as their wants dictated. The large sleeping surface in
particular beckoned with the softest of furs and mirrored surfaces
surrounding it. Egilka had been all too aware that one closet
boasted items that would shame the brothel they’d just run
from.
Clajak chortled, opening that
particular closet at once and discovering the toys. “Well, well. I
appreciate all you’re doing to lure me to your side,
Imdiko.”
Egilka kept his back ramrod straight
and voice cool. “Don’t look at me. The room was arranged for by –
one of your parents.”
At the last second, Egilka refrained
from telling Clajak it had been his mother who had booked the
lodgings. “I took care of it myself,” Empress Irdis breezily
informed him as he’d set off. “I hope you will be
comfortable.”
Comfort was the last thing Egilka was
right now, thinking of how Irdis had not-so-subtly pushed this
moment upon him. At Clajak’s frown, he knew the prince realized who
was behind this setting of love and passion. The frown was chased
by a look of great unease.
Good. Egilka wasn’t the only one
embarrassed by the empress’ attempt to bring them together. It had
to be worse for Clajak since the perpetrator was his own
mother.
After an awkward moment of silence,
Clajak said, “So what is the plan now?”
Egilka sat down on a chair big enough
for both of them to snuggle in. He toed his shoes off. “We’ll head
back to the Empire tomorrow. Transport is already arranged. I’ll
send for your belongings at the inn you’ve been staying
at.”
Clajak regarded him with surprise. “But
you only just got here. Don’t you want to sample some of the
pleasures of Dantovon? I know this one place where the hostess
stages orgies that run nonstop with new partners added every hour.
We’re talking endless decadence until you fall unconscious from
exhaustion, my friend.”
Egilka settled back in the chair and
closed his eyes against the headache forming behind them. “With a
Bi’isil prince gunning for you now? Not likely. You know how those
stupid Grays hold a grudge. Besides, I have work to do back on
Kalquor.”
Clajak groaned. “Egilka, every time I
see you, you have work to do. Every time we’ve gotten together in a
purely social setting, you tell me you have work to do.”
“That’s not true.” He rubbed the bridge
of his nose.
Clajak’s voice beyond his closed lids
wouldn’t shut up. “Really? I’ve lost count of the times I’ve heard,
‘Clajak, if you just wanted to sit around and drink, you can do
that on your own. I’ve got work to do.’ Or even, ‘My prince, this
meeting wasn’t so you could show me vids of Plasian girls having
sex. If that’s all we’re going to do I’m leaving because I have
work to do.’”
“Those meetings were meant for us to
get to know each other, not get drunk and watch porn.”
The disgusted sound Clajak made spurred
Egilka’s eyes open. Clajak had settled on a matching chair across
from him and glared at him with temper. “Maybe all there is to me
is booze and sex.”
“I know better than that. If you
believe it, you’ve been listening to your detractors too
much.”
Clajak barked a harsh laugh. “I listen
to them just to repeat the behaviors they hate the most. It’s
childish, but I like to rub their noses in it. You though – you
plug along, doing what’s expected, and they criticize you
too.”
He was right. However, Egilka had no
interest in what men like Councilman Pwaldur and his ilk thought of
him. “I am committed to doing all I can to benefit the
Empire.”
Clajak nodded. “That’s right. And your
epitaph will be, ‘Here is the life of Imdiko Egilka. He had work to
do.’”
“I have a promise to fulfill.” One he
should be working on even now, if Clajak would cooperate for a
change.
Clajak’s eyes flooded with sudden
sympathy. Unable to face it, Egilka averted his gaze. He hoped the
other man wouldn’t pursue the subject. It had brought them to blows
once before. That time had been because Clajak had been thoughtless
and Egilka had reacted out of pure fury. Seeing the compassion in
his intended’s face assured Egilka that the lesson had been
learned. He still didn’t want to talk about it. After all this
time, it continued to hurt like hell.
He needed to get home. He needed to get
back to work.
With that in mind, Egilka said,
“Clajak, I know there is more to you than drinking and fucking.
That exclusive contract with the Grynaryt must have been a bitch to
wrangle. Even before that, the trade negotiations with the Adraf
you carried out were a huge coup. Merchants are proclaiming you a
hero at the cut in duty fees they’ll pay.”
Clajak’s devilish grin returned. “That
escapade was entirely too respectable. Now I must destroy my
people’s goodwill with ribald debauchery lest they expect more
wonderful things from me.”
Egilka rolled his eyes. While members
of the Royal Council often made pointed remarks about Clajak’s
excesses, particularly Dramok Pwaldur, there was no doubt
Kalquorians adored their crown prince. Clajak was decent enough to
represent the Empire well in trade agreements and wild enough to
keep the population entertained. Kalquorians loved to hear of his
various exploits.
Egilka told him, “I’ve had enough
excitement to last me for a while. Once we get home and make your
parents and the Empire happy by giving them their clanning
ceremony, do whatever you please.”
With that, he stood and went to the
bath facility. The large shower beckoned him with its rainfall
spouts secreted in the ceiling. After a day of tracking Clajak
down, bribing the brothel owner and prostitute, disciplining the
prince, and running for his life, Egilka was all too ready to
indulge in a long shower.
He set the temperature for enough heat
to hopefully make the knots in his muscles unravel. Egilka pulled
his clothing off and stepped beneath the spray. He sighed with
pleasure as a steady but soft streams showered down on him,
splashing warmth over his head, shoulders, chest, and back. Except
for burying his cock in Clajak’s backside, this was the best
feeling he’d experienced all day.
He reached up to pull his ponytail tie
loose. He was surprised when another pair of hands pushed his away
and set his hair free.
The deep, honeyed tones of Clajak
tickled his ears. “Let me, Imdiko.”
Egilka looked over his shoulder at the
prince. Clajak had taken his clothes off. His steel-colored hair
lay in a sheet, like mercury running over his shoulders. The wet
accentuated his muscular frame, making Egilka’s mouth go
dry.
Pretending his cocks weren’t plumping
as interest surged, the Imdiko said in a light tone, “You want more
already?”
“I’m young, you know. Strong urges and
all that.”
Egilka’s own strong urges were coming
to the fore. With another 200 years to look forward to, he counted
barely more than a youngling himself. He swallowed hard. “That’s
true. Poor kid, stuck with an old man for an Imdiko.”
Clajak chuckled as his fingers combed
through Egilka’s long hair. “I like mature men. Besides, you’re
only in your early forties. That’s on the low side of
ancient.”
Egilka faced forward so the Dramok
wouldn’t see his grin. Seldom had they bantered so easily. He
tended to keep people at an arm’s length, afraid to trust too much.
Maybe it was his doing that they hadn’t gotten closer.
Clajak grabbed a nozzle labeled for
soap. “Hold still. Relax. Now that I can finally put my hands on
you, giving you a bath seems the perfect opportunity.”
“I’m still mad at you for making me
come all the way out here,” Egilka grouched as Clajak sprayed him
down, sending a moisturizing cleanser all over his back, buttocks,
and legs. “A scrub is the least you owe me.”
For an answer, Clajak grabbed his
wrists and made him plant his hands against the wall in front of
him. The fantasies that position unleashed grew as the prince’s
hands worked over Egilka’s arms, shoulders, and neck. It was more
massage than washing. Egilka couldn’t smother a groan as the Dramok
found a knot of bunched muscles and rubbed the tension
free.
“See what all that work is doing to
you?” Clajak whispered in his ear. “You feel so rigid, like a block
of stone. As your Dramok, I’m going to order you to take more play
time.”
“I could be a little more balanced,”
Egilka sighed. The man worked on his back now, turning him into
jelly. Clajak had an amazing touch. A Tratsod couldn’t have done a
better job of massaging.
“Try being a lot more balanced. You’re
obsessed with your research. Granted, you have good reason for
doing so, but I don’t think Cyrt would approve.”
Hearing her name made Egilka freeze in
place. Clajak rubbed up and down his back, soothing him.
“Easy, Imdiko. I know she had your best
interests at heart, which is why I brought her name up. She would
not like knowing she is the reason you don’t have any
fun.”
Swallowing past the ball of hurt in his
throat, Egilka said, “I have fun. I do.”
“Tell me the last time you did
something frivolous. The last time you left Kalquor for a vacation.
The last time you took a vacation anywhere. The last time you
visited a pleasure club or went to a party that wasn’t an affair of
state or met with friends for drinks. The last time you slept late
even. When was that, Egilka?”
The quiet tone wasn’t demanding for a
change. It wasn’t judgmental or mocking either. Clajak sounded
concerned. He sounded like he cared.
Egilka leaned his forehead against the
wall. He didn’t answer because he didn’t have one to
give.
Clajak didn’t press him. He continued
to scrub him down, skipping Egilka’s buttocks to concentrate on his
legs next. Little by little Egilka began to relax again, to let the
warmth of the falling water and the comfort of the other man’s
touch ease painful memories. Clajak’s arms came around to wash his
front, again skipping over areas that might have taken Egilka out
of his contented thrall.
Egilka’s breed designation was Imdiko,
the personality type that felt compelled to nurture others. With
most other Imdikos, it would have been odd to be the one being
looked after, with no attempt to return the favor. Yet few who knew
Egilka – or thought they knew him – would have been surprised at
the current situation.
Many commented on how aloof he seemed
for his breed, how uncaring of others he tended to be. In fact, it
was the opposite. Egilka had been diagnosed early as being far too
empathetic for his emotional health. When he encountered another
person’s pain, Egilka felt it as his own. When someone was dealt an
injustice, Egilka felt as angry as if he himself had been
victimized. Disappointments and hurts experienced by those close to
him ... and even those he’d only heard about ... wracked him with
agony. He had been trained by psychologists to erect walls, to
throw up safeguards to keep him from becoming an emotional
wreck.
Often those walls worked too well. They
kept Egilka from having many friends. His colleagues, most of his
parent clan, and the Imperial Family were the closest thing he had
to confidants.
Once his supporters had included his
sister Cyrt. She had been the one person he could trust with
everything in his heart. She had sheltered him as best she could
from the pain of others, keeping him safe from the feelings that
could too easily drown him. Especially her own.