by Marie Harte
They dropped into reality right behind Pyrgo, now seated at the helm of a ship.
A ship.
Escape was in reach. Stars and Planets above. A fucking dream come true.
Tarn shoved him towards an empty seat and buckled him in.
“I can do it.”
“Shut up.” Tarn leaned down, gave him a hard kiss then followed Pyrgo’s instructions as they took flight.
Zachem looked out of the main viewport and watched as The Pit became a distant memory.
They flew in silence for a while. Zachem remained content to savour his new freedom.
Though he had an agreement to keep with Tarn, just being away from Furon and the guards, without that damned collar, made him want to shout with joy.
Pyrgo sighed, breaking the companionable silence. “That went, ah, not as expected.”
“No shit. Nice plan, your highness.” Tarn said with disgust.
“Your highness?” Zachem blinked, totally confused.
“Dammit, you weren’t supposed to say anything.”
“Please, Pyrgo. Who’s he going to tell? He’s just happy to have escaped that fuckhead Furon. And speaking of which, when this is done, I’m going back for that drun. We’re not finished, he and I, until The Pit is no more.”
“Excuse me. But ‘he’ is sitting right here.” Zachem removed his restraints and stood, enthralled with the ship. “What is this?”
“A star destroyer, for our destroyer. Ironic, eh?” Pyrgo said to Tarn. “It fits a four man crew, so we’re good. There are three berthing areas, one communal lav, a galley and an armaments and equipment room we normally use for training purposes.”
“Weapon training?”
“Unarmed combat,” Pyrgo answered with a feral smile, and something in his expression resonated.
“You two,” Zachem said slowly. “You’re the same. From the same place, I mean.” Pyrgo and Tarn exchanged a long silence.
Tarn answered. “We are.”
“And not from this system.” Zachem began to understand. “No wonder you aren’t bothered by who I am. You’re more alien than I am.”
“He’s an alien?” Pyrgo asked.
“He’s completely alien to me,” Tarn said dryly. “I’m not bothered by you because I know more of your kind than you’d believe.”
Pyrgo nodded. “His nephew Drekk, Drekk’s mate, Ryen. Ryen’s sisters, Erin and Anin.
And then of course, there’s you.”
“You knew about him?” Tarn asked, sounding surprised.
So Tarn hadn’t confided in Pyrgo about his identity as a Creation. What did that mean?
“Of course. I’m Intelligence, remember?”
“Why do you call him ‘Destroyer’?” Zachem wanted to know.
“Because on my world, Tarn is the Destroyer. Our best warrior, by far. He’s untamed, and he excels in the art of war. Our own berserker, so it’s fitting he’s found you. A Dorvian berserker. Who could have guessed?”
“Talk about fate.” Tarn’s grin faded as he stared at Zachem, and a familiar hunger filled his gaze.
“Tarn, there is one thing.” Pyrgo quieted, and the two made eye contact.
Tarn frowned, and his stare turned darker. “No. Leave it alone.” More silence.
“Fuck off, Pyrgo. Hell, I need a drink.” He turned to Zachem. “I need a break. Don’t let him bother you. He says something you don’t like, beat the scales off him.” An odd turn of phrase, but Zachem appreciated the sentiment.
The moment Tarn left the bridge, he and Pyrgo faced one another.
“So, Beast,” Pyrgo said with a good-natured grin. “I think you and I have a few things to discuss.”
Zachem looked over his shoulder at the empty doorway. “Yes, we do.”
Chapter Nine
Pyrgo considered him with a knowing grin. “You’re perfect of face and form. A true fighter, a berserker, even, and he finds you. Talk about having all the luck.” Zachem took the compliment as intended. He smiled back. “Yes, isn’t he lucky.” The lout had managed to trick Zachem into forty-five standard days of servitude. The notion thrilled Zachem deep in the places he wanted to deny existed.
“You know, my kind can see the energy patterns in others. Now take you. You’re large, strong, and practically seethe with an aggressive power threaded with health and a strong need for sexual contact. When I look at Tarn, I see exactly the same thing. Except he’s missing a vital part of him he’ll never get back, not on his own.”
“What?”
“I think Tarn’s been injured in some way,” Pyrgo said carefully. “Outwardly, he looks fine. I’ll admit, that trick you pulled with the crystal earlier, when you healed him? It shifted his shei for just a moment, but then his energy returned to that lesser stasis.”
“Shei?”
“What we call a person’s essence, his soul. What makes us all unique.”
“Shei.” Zachem nodded. He’d seen something similar when under the crystal’s influence. And he’d always felt more around others, a sense of potential he summed up in his opponents. Their shei, according to Pyrgo.
“Our Destroyer, Tarn, is a powerful warrior. He saved our world more times than he can say. Just his presence on a battlefield could turn the tide in our favour. Our brethren believed they couldn’t fail with Tarn around. Unfortunately, we started to learn diplomacy.” Pyrgo made a face. “Those like Tarn found themselves no longer needed as much.”
“So they pushed him aside after his service?” Zachem’s anger on his lover’s behalf surprised him. So intense, as if he’d been wronged.
“Not at all. They tried to mould him into something different, something Tarn isn’t equipped to do.”
Zachem couldn’t imagine Tarn failing at anything. “What was that?”
“Warrior instruction.” Pyrgo grimaced. “He was terrible. No patience at all.”
Zachem grinned. “He was the same way in The Pit. Nearly strangled a few of the new slaves instead of showing them how to work choke holds.”
“That sounds about right.” Pyrgo chuckled, and Zachem saw the guard in a new light.
Somewhat handsome, good natured, but not as overwhelming as ‘the destroyer’.
“So you two really aren’t slavers.”
“We really aren’t. I serve my empire, as does Tarn. But Tarn works in your star system.
I trust you with this knowledge because Tarn trusts you.” He blinked, and then those alien, reptilian eyes blinked at Zachem. Further proof Pyrgo and Tarn were the same. “I’d hate to be wrong about you, Zachem.”
“You aren’t,” he said quietly. “Being a Creation is an automatic death sentence. Why would I wish to harm the men who set me free?” Or at least, one of them had. The other insisted on servitude.
“There is that.”
“So who exactly are you? What are you?” Zachem wanted to know.
“We’re a people who need to adapt to change if we’re to survive, apparently,” Pyrgo said with a sigh. “Since Tarn and I aren’t mated, we’re—”
“To each other?” Zachem asked, incredulous. Just because he hadn’t sensed their attraction didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
“Of course not to each other. Hell no. I meant that each of us has not yet found a mate.” The relief Zachem felt made him feel foolish. What should he care about Tarn’s relationships? He barely knew the male aside from sex.
Pyrgo smirked. “No, Tarn isn’t mated to me and never will be. I sense that he’s taken a great interest in you, however.”
“We fuck. Yeah.”
“It’s more than that. Your sheis complement one another. He’s a powerful male. He needs an equal, someone to make him work for what he needs.” Zachem snorted. “If the dick would fight me for real, I’d show him how powerful I can be. I know I can beat him.”
“I’m talking about more than the physical, Zachem.”
“Oh.” What did he say to that?
Pyrgo glanced at the doorway and lowered his voice. “
Tarn would kill me for saying this, but I think he needs you more than he knows. You challenge him.” He paused. “Let me ask you something. When you and he are together, does he spill inside you?” Zachem didn’t want to talk about this, but he sensed Pyrgo wanted to know for more than prurient interest. “Yes.”
“To be clear, he’s spilled his seed in more than your mouth, but your honet as well. Your rectum,” he explained.
“Yes.” Just thinking about it had him hard.
“Has he bitten you while doing this?”
“He bites me all the time.” Zachem huffed. At Pyrgo’s surprised look, he said, “You can’t see them because I heal quickly. But Tarn’s got a thing for roughing me up.” He didn’t want to ask but couldn’t help himself. “Why do you want to know?” Was he like that with you too? Pyrgo had said they weren’t mates, but had they ever been sexual partners?
“Damn. Tarn’s sick, all right. He needs you to finish—” Tarn re-entered the bridge and stopped. “What the hell are you talking about?” He frowned. “Zachem, why are you so flushed?”
Pyrgo quickly answered, “Because he told me he’s tired of answering my questions about being a Creation. I think he’d much rather deal with his czeva, no?” Tarn narrowed his eyes.
“Wait a minute. You call me that all the time. Doesn’t that mean ‘servant’?” Pyrgo’s eyes widened. “I knew it. You did it. Or at least, half of it. You idiot.” Tarn threw the punch so fast Zachem barely caught sight of it. Pyrgo, unfortunately, took it in the face and collapsed like a stack of vid chips.
“Why did you do that?” What did Pyrgo say that put you on the defensive so fast? And why haven’t you told me you’re ill?
“Don’t worry. We’re on autopilot, and the sensors are set to detect enemy ships if they get with forty klikks of us. Now help me get him to his room.” Zachem and Tarn carried Pyrgo into a nice, utilitarian room and dropped him on the bed. Zachem said nothing as he followed Tarn across the hall into another berthing area. This one was slightly larger, with a bigger bed. Funny, but every bed looked large enough to accommodate Tarn.
“Your people are large, aren’t they?”
“Yes. We are.” Tarn gave Zachem a look he couldn’t miss. “I’m sore, I’m tired, and I’m hungry, but not for food. Take off your clothes, czeva.” Zachem stripped. “Eventually, you’re going to tell me what that means.”
“What that means Master. Ah, you see that? Just the mention of ‘master’ makes you so hard. Look at my beautiful cock,” Tarn murmured, staring at Zachem’s groin. “Grip it, touch my cock.”
Zachem took himself in hand, simultaneously pleased and horrified he derived such pleasure from Tarn claiming his body and owning it.
“The Creations I know were never allowed to give themselves pleasure. Were you?” Stunned to find that Tarn knew that small detail, Zachem shook his head. “No, we weren’t.”
“But I’m your master. If I tell you to come, you will. It’s that simple. And do you know why? You want to be led. You think it’s wrong, that it makes you weak.” Tarn continued, ignoring Zachem’s denial. “But it doesn’t. You really do need to talk to Ryen. He’s almost as big as you are. A real pain in the ass, and thankfully, not mine. It took my nephew some time to break him in, to allow Ryen to feel pleasure in submission.”
“How does serving another make you strong?” Zachem sincerely wanted to know. “My whole life I’ve been serving others, and it’s never felt all that good.” Except, so far, with you.
Tarn lifted a brow in challenge. “Not good, hmm? So begging for pleasure, to feel the slide of my cock inside you, filling you up, isn’t good? Trembling from the aftershocks of an orgasm your master forced you to feel, that’s not good either?” Tarn undressed and shook his head. He stood before Zachem completely naked and aroused. “I think my beast needs another lesson. Come here.”
Sitting in a large metallic chair, Tarn spread his legs and held his shaft out.
Zachem approached and stopped, simmering with anticipation. He was so hard right now, so aroused it shocked him. How did Tarn get to him like this?
“Grab the items on the table there and bring them to me. Now come closer. Step between my legs and bring that cock to my lips.”
Zachem did as commanded. He handed Tarn the small jar and a long, thin rod of machenite. To his consternation, it felt soft yet hard, like Tarn’s cock.
“You’re thinking too much. I want you to relax, czeva. Listen to my voice. You trust me not to hurt you at least, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then do what I tell you without thinking about it. Respond with automatic obeisance.
Can you do that?”
“I’ll try.”
Tarn slapped his ass hard.
“Shit. What did you do that for?”
“Don’t try, do,” Tarn growled, and Zachem glanced down, duly chastised. “Now, can you do that?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Very good.” Tarn rubbed his ass and placed a kiss on the tip of his cock.
He hissed in response, wanting badly to shove hard between those lips.
“I want you to fuck my mouth until I pull away. And you must tell me before you’re about to come. ”
Zachem blinked in surprise, having expected something else. His master wanted to suck him off? Ready to obey, he gladly pushed the head of his cock between Tarn’s slick lips.
The feel of Tarn’s lips around him skewed everything but the pleasure spreading through his body. Tarn’s hands crept over his hips to his ass. Petting then teasing his crack as Tarn’s clever fingers stroked closer and closer to his hole. But it was Tarn’s mouth that tore down every wall trying to hold back Zachem’s growing love. When Tarn touched him like that, he could feel the clear affection flowing from him.
“Yes, damn.” Zachem groaned. “You make me so hard. I love the way you touch me.” Tarn grunted but didn’t stop sucking him. He let go of Zachem’s hips and pushed a slick finger inside him. The suction increased, and then Tarn released him from his mouth and continued fucking his ass with one, then two fingers. They disappeared, and the rod of machenite entered. By the stars… He fought not to come.
“You see, czeva. A true master takes care of his pet,” he rasped. “What makes you feel good makes me feel good. It’s my duty to bring you pleasure, and serving me brings you pleasure, does it not?”
The bar surged deeper, grazing that trigger inside Zachem that nearly made him come.
“Oh yes, please. Fuck, I need to—”
Before he could finish, Tarn was there, taking him deep to the back of his throat.
Zachem couldn’t help it. He pushed hard, widening his stance as the rod and Tarn’s fingers caressed and tortured him with ecstasy.
He came on a shout, unloading into Tarn’s blissful mouth.
His master took it all, and the sudden shame he felt by being selfish made his eyes burn.
He’d found pleasure while Tarn sat, still erect and hurting. Emotions churned—confusing guilt, shame and the always present desire.
Tarn released him and withdrew the bar. When he saw Zachem’s distress, he tugged him to his knees. “You did nothing wrong, czeva. No tears. You did as I commanded, didn’t you?” He stroked Zachem’s hair until Zachem’s tumult eased. “This is what you should feel.
Nothing but bliss. You surrender to me. Give me everything, and I’ll always take care of you.”
Zachem blinked, stunned at the wealth of feeling in Tarn’s voice and gaze.
“But you didn’t come.”
“No, but you did. I know how to please you, and that affords me much more than physical satisfaction. Watch me.” He gripped his thick shaft and jerked off, spewing onto his belly with a low groan in just a few strokes. “This is easy,” he said thickly. “I touch myself, I come. A physical release. What I gave you, what you give me, is so much more.” He sat quietly for a moment. “What would you like to do now?” Zachem didn’t know what to say.
“Tell
me, czeva. Never be afraid to tell me what you’re feeling. We need to have truth between us.”
“Who the hell are you?” Zachem needed to know. “In The Pit you were a dick. But now you’re acting like—”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. Like you care.”
“Maybe I do. You weren’t the only one playing a part back there, Zachem. You’re so much more than a brutal fighter. And I’m much more than a slaver stupid enough to be caught and thrown into The Pit. Again, I ask, what do you want to do now?” There was a firmness in his tone that hadn’t been there before.
“I want to—” serve you “—tend to you. To clean you.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat, wondering how this could be so wrong when it felt so right. “Master.”
Tarn’s smile erased the doubt from his mind. “I’d like that.” Zachem felt an answering joy and let himself experience it as he left to find something to clean Tarn. To clean his master.
Tarn waited until Zachem left before he sagged in the chair. He felt weaker than he should have after that explosive climax. But it had been worth it. Seeing the pleasure on his mate’s face made up for the growing weakness in his shei.
Though he hadn’t known Zachem all that long, he instinctively knew the male was his.
Between the things his mate had told a lost threll in the lonely hours of darkness inside The Pit, and his struggle to find himself outside enslavement, Zachem showed more courage and strength than anyone Tarn had ever met.
How could he not want such a worthy partner by his side?
The question then remained, how could he convince Zachem to stay with him? If he released his mate from their bargain now, Zachem would flee and try to resist his natural urge to submit. Until he accepted that part of himself that had been Created to serve, he’d never find any peace. And as Zachem’s mate, Tarn could not allow that to happen. So the charade of forced servitude would have to continue.