Dangerous Dance

by Samantha Cayto

  He struck, fast and hard, his fangs sinking into the flesh as if it were no more than air. Mackie’s scream egged him on, as did the flow of warm, salty blood. Val drank it down as if for the first time, slaking that thirst that was never truly satisfied. He tugged at the vein as he drilled Mackie’s hole. The bucking of his hips sent the boy’s dick sliding through his grip. The shaft twitched against his fingers in an unspoken plea.

  Now was the time. Val let himself go, his cum spurting up into his boy, coating the grasping channel and slicking the way. His thrusts stuttered as he lost control. He choked on the flood of blood he sucked down. With a flick of his thumbnail through Mackie’s slit, he forced the boy to join him in the mindless pleasure of the climax. Sticky cum covered Val’s fingers. He let the dick go and slid his hand up Mackie’s torso, leaving a trail of fluid.

  Spasms rocked Mackie’s body. He twisted and jerked in Val’s embrace before going limp. Val came to his senses and retracted his fangs. He licked the puncture wounds closed so as not to waste a drop of his boy’s precious blood. The red cloth fluttered past his head, alarming him. He made short work of freeing Mackie from the wheel. He held the boy in the crook of his arm as he removed first the gag, then the blindfold.

  Mackie blinked up at him before raising his lips in a ghost of a smile. Val returned the look and gave him a quick kiss.

  “That’s my good boy.”

  Lifting him in both arms, he carried Mackie over to the couch. He wrapped him in a blanket and lay him down. Val’s dick hung out, ready for round two. He stuffed it back into his pants, wincing as he forced the zipper up. Time for more fun later. Now, his boy needed him. He brought a clean cloth and a bottle of water back to Mackie. The boy’s eyes were fully open.

  “Don’t try to speak,” he said, kneeling by the couch. “Not yet. Drink first.”

  He held the bottle to Mackie’s lips and made sure he took in a few sips. When he was satisfied that enough water had made it in for the moment, he put the bottle aside and wiped Mackie’s sweaty face. The blanket had undoubtedly absorbed the cum, so he didn’t bother to do more than that. Later, they’d shower together. And yes, he assured his dick that it would get another chance at one of Mackie’s holes.

  He joined his boy on the couch, resting Mackie’s head on his lap. He indulged himself by petting Mackie’s head. “How are you feeling?”

  “Drained,” the human answered in a sleepy voice. “When can we do it again?”

  Val laughed. It was a strange sensation for him. It had been a long time since he’d felt free to enjoy himself. He ruffled Mackie’s hair. “Greedy boy. Your poor ass will need some time to heal up, although if you are a very good boy, I’ll let you suck my cock later.”

  “Hmm,” Mackie purred and rubbed his head against Val’s crotch. “Promises, promises.”

  “Stop that!” Val gritted his teeth against the renewed hard-on. “Here… Drink some more.”

  Between them, they finished the bottle. Val went for another and cuddled a refreshed Mackie. The weight of the boy’s body on Val’s dick was sweetly painful.

  “Was I a good boy?”

  Frowning at the wistful question, Val said, “You know you were.”

  He lifted Mackie’s chin with one finger and brought their lips together. Kissing was a hard thing for Val. He worried that he was too forceful, so he pressed gently. When Mackie sighed, he slipped his tongue inside and made a languid sweep before letting go.

  “You make me proud. You make me happy.” The confession was also hard, yet if he and Mackie were going to have any kind of future, Val needed to make himself vulnerable again.

  “I love you, Val.” The simple declaration, said with a clear gaze, humbled Val.

  “As I do you. It’s important that you believe me, Mackie. I may not be good at saying it or even showing it. I’m not sure you and I have the same view of what that means. But I promise you that I will do my best every day for the rest of our lives to prove it to you.”

  “Oh, Val.” Mackie rested his head against Val’s chest. “I know you do. You don’t have to do anything special to convince me of it.”

  “That may be, yet here is one thing I can think of. One moment.”

  Val put Mackie into a sitting position on the couch before walking to a drawer where he kept toys. He reached deep inside and pulled out the small box he’d placed there earlier in the day. He returned to Mackie’s side and knelt on the floor.

  “This is for you, if you’ll have it.” He held the box up and opened the lid.

  Mackie blinked rapidly a few times, convinced he was hallucinating. Inside the box Val held was a platinum band with a row of rectangular pavé diamonds running through the middle. He reached out to touch it, then snatched his hand back.

  Val chuckled. “It’s yours, baby. Take it out. Please.”

  With his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, he did as Val asked. His hand shook as he gazed at the ring he held. “What is this?” His voice shook, too.

  “The woman at the store called it a man-gagement ring, but I’m thinking of it as a wedding band.” He shrugged. “You can call it whatever you want, so long as you let me put it on your finger.”

  Mackie swallowed hard and passed the ring back. “Please do.”

  Val took Mackie’s unsteady hand in his strong one and slipped the band onto Mackie’s left-handed ring finger. It fit perfectly. “Oh, Val.” The next thing he knew, he was flying into Val’s embrace. Tears flowed freely and he didn’t care.

  Val hugged him hard. “I assume this means you are accepting my proposal, clumsy as it was.”

  “Fuck yes!” Mackie pulled back and beamed back at him. “Is this really a thing with you guys? Marriage, I mean?”

  “It’s different on my home world, but it’s how it’s done here. And I want this for you, for us.” A cloud passed over Val’s eyes. “I wasn’t able to do this for Robbie. I couldn’t give him the respect and protection of my name and wealth. It gratifies me that your species have evolved enough for me to bind us legally.”

  Mackie worked to wrap his mind around what Val was offering. “I hadn’t expected marriage. It was enough that you wanted me.”

  “Oh, Mackie, it shouldn’t have been.” Val cupped Mackie’s face. “You deserve every happiness. Your family was foolish to think you anything other than perfect.”

  The tears really started to flow. Mackie swiped at them, sniffed and laughed. His emotions were overwhelming him, especially as he came down from subspace.

  “This is too much for you now.” Val frowned and swept him up again. “Drink.”

  Mackie obeyed because he trusted Val to know what was best, not that he wasn’t going to give the guy a hard time on a routine basis. But playing the brat was too much fun for the both of them to give it up entirely. For the moment, he acted the good boy. He drank and rested and planned.

  “Could we have the wedding here, do you think?”

  “Of course. Alex will be delighted to play father of the groom for you. And Emil will treat us to the best reception meal and wedding cake imaginable. Everyone will be happy for us. I promise you that.”

  “And I’ll finally have a family who loves me.” He sighed and melted into Val’s arms. “I can take your name.”

  “Of course, unless you want me to change mine to Fraser.”

  Mackie gave that notion a second of thought. In that brief time, he let go of his past and the family that had made him feel broken and unwanted. “No. You, Alex and everyone else are my family now. I want to be a Stelalux officially.” Throwing his head back, he gazed up at Val, pouring as much of his love as he could in his expression. “I’m your boy, Val. Forever and always. In sickness and in health.”

  “Until death do us part”—Val brushed his lips against Mackie’s—“which won’t be for a very long time.”

  Epilogue

  Wales, Dracul’s castle

  “Idiots! I’m surrounded by incompetence. You had a simple job and you f
ucked it up. How is it possible for you to have come from my loins? There is clearly too much of the weak slut in you.”

  Dracul flung his hand in Dafydd’s direction, his face mottled with rage, his eyes burning red. Spittle flew from his mouth. The objects of his fury stood mute, not offering an excuse for their failure.

  Well, at least they learned something from me. Dafydd watched his hated ‘husband’ spew his venomous wrath at their sons without fear for himself or them. Not even seeing the ruined side of Cadoc’s face moved him to pity. He had long ago resigned himself that the boys he’d labored to bring into the world were wholly their alien father’s. No doubt the boy had deserved the scarring and was lucky to have survived. Next time, and there would be one, both of his sons would probably die. Dracul saw them as disposable, like everyone else around him.

  Dafydd didn’t worry about that. He had nothing left in him to feel anything. Dracul had beaten and raped all emotion out of him, except for one—hatred. That burned bright in his heart, as did the hope of revenge. He placed his palm over his abdomen where one or more babes grew anew. As much as he’d tried to avoid this from happening, he found the alien life inside gave him a strange sense of strength.

  A whimper from the new boy lying next to him caught his attention. Dracul’s latest victim still shook and wept from the brutal fucking Dracul had subjected him to. He understood well how the boy felt. Disbelief was turning into despair.

  Dafydd reached over and brushed sweaty hair from the boy’s face. “Hush,” he whispered. “He likes hearing your pain and misery. Don’t give him the satisfaction.” When the boy merely blinked back at him, he added, “Don’t lose hope.”

  Dafydd smiled yet said nothing more. He couldn’t trust anyone with his thoughts—with his plans.

  Dracul threw a bottle of wine against the hearth, the pieces of glass flying into his silent sons. “I was mistaken to give you a chance. You, Bran, in particular, are a bitter disappointment. I put you in charge.”

  He cracked his fist against the boy’s face. Bran took the blow and said nothing.

  “Get out of my sight before I tear you to pieces and throw them to the dogs.”

  The boys wasted no time in leaving the room. The one saving grace was that Dafydd would probably not see them for a while, if ever again. It was a sad thing to hate your own children. Then again, he really felt nothing at all for them.

  Dracul paced away before turning to glare at Petru. The steadfast lieutenant didn’t so much as flinch. He never did, and Dafydd studied the man’s stolid demeanor for inspiration.

  “I suppose you’re feeling vindicated. You advised against sending them.”

  “I feel only your keen disappointment, sir.”

  “Huh! You’ve always had a silky tongue, ready with the right words. I wonder what you really think.” When Petru remained silent, Dracul chuckled. “Too smart to let me know. It matters not. You have always been loyal, regardless, and you were right. So, go ahead and take your bow. Then send for Marius. I’m done playing games with Stelalux.”

  And there it was… The next level of war was coming, an escalation that would bring those across the ocean to their knees if they weren’t ready for it. Marius was a weapon Dracul used sparingly. Dafydd stroked the boy next to him to keep him quiet in the wake of such menacing words. There was no sense in calling attention to themselves. Dracul would be back to bed soon enough to work off his fury in the few ways that gave him pleasure. It would be a hard night all around.

  Also available from Pride Publishing:

  Alien Slave Masters: The Rebellious Pet

  Samantha Cayto

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Joel Porter owed his father a debt of gratitude. The son of a bitch had done one thing right for his only child. He’d taught him how to hide his fear. As Joel walked through the Travian space station, he kept up his mask of indifference, even though his heart raced and sweat trickled down his back. The place was huge, cavernous with a mile-high ceiling, ringed all the way up with corridors. Every meter of the docking bay and beyond teemed with people. No, not people. Aliens. And not only Travians, although most were, but other creatures that defied his imagination. How had his own race of humans ever managed to miss discovering the variety of life existing beyond their backwater galaxy?

  Even though he wore clothing for the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt far more exposed than he had while naked aboard ship. Back there, nobody paid any attention to him. He’d been one of a dozen human slaves milling about, something the crew had become used to seeing. He’d belonged to Firth, too, a senior officer respected and even feared. No one had dared bother Joel. Here, as he walked next to the floating stretcher carrying Firth to the infirmary, just about everyone they encountered studied Joel as if he were a bug in a jar. They stopped and stared and even leered at him, his species having never stepped foot in this part of space before.

  Joel wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of showing how afraid their attention made him. He wanted to drop his gaze and shrink away. Pride alone stopped him. Weakness, once shown, was a liability that couldn’t be easily erased. So he stood with his spine straight, looking ahead and pretending he didn’t notice any of them. He felt a tug on the leash attached to the hated collar around his neck. Back on the ship, he’d been allowed to wander around without it. Not here.

  He looked down at the male nominally holding him close to the stretcher by the tether. Firth looked back at him with a tight smile. His eyes conveyed that he knew how uncomfortable Joel was and wanted to reassure him. Joel hated being on the receiving end of any kind of sympathy. That the alien understood him well enough to realize how Joel felt irked him. Unlike his friend, Wid, Joel hadn’t fallen for his master. At best, he and Firth had settled into a kind of uneasy détente—not even friends, yet not exactly enemies, either. And while he didn’t want the alien to feel sorry for him, Joel cared enough about the male to worry about him.

  Some serious illness that Joel didn’t understand had taken hold of the guy to a degree that the phenomenal healing waters onboard the ship weren’t enough. He needed treatment that could only be provided by the kind of medical personnel found on a station. Instead of gifting Joel over to another officer, Firth had asked Captain Kell for permission to take Joel along. So, here they were, slowly making their way to the medical facility in the company of what Joel assumed was the Travian equivalent of EMTs. Joel had been excited at the prospect of getting off the ship. Now that he’d arrived on the station, he wasn’t so sure that he wouldn’t have been better off staying behind. At least on the ship, he knew his place. Here, he had no idea what to expect.

  The trip took forever—endless halls, right turns, left turns, down open-sided lifts that caused Joel’s stomach to drop, and up moving inclines that threatened to topple him over. Always, aliens swarmed around them. Most were Travian males in their red uniforms. They dwarfed Joel, the average one topping seven feet. At five-ten, Joel felt like a child next to them. But the weirdest thing wasn’t the Travian soldiers. He’d lived with them, after all. It wasn’t even the other aliens, strange as many of them were with nonhumanoid features and skin colors he couldn’t even name. No, the thing that freaked him out was seeing Travian females. They also fascinated him.

  Given their rigidly segregated society roles, no females served in the occupying forces on New World Colony Seven or onboard ship. Wid had seen Kell’s wife a few times by hologram and had described her generally, but nothing compared to the reality of it. Very nearly as tall as the males, the Travian females seemed to float around. They moved with such eerie grace. Their flawless movements were even more impressive given the elaborate gowns they wore. The material alone had to weigh a ton. Their hair and makeup matched the complexity of their clothing. Unlike the males’ hair, a few braids here or there weren’t enough. There were dozens of whip-thin ones intricately twisted and twirled in patterns. Beads and baubles were woven in as well. Their ‘face paint’ l
ooked exactly like that—paintings. Not merely simple color enhancements, but stylistic patterns and shapes. How long did it take these creatures to get dressed in the morning?

  Because his own mother had died within the first year of colonization, Joel had little experience living with women. He’d rarely seen the women on New World Colony Seven dress up and never in anything fancy. Life had been hard, work endless on the colony, with little time for frivolity. No one had the luxury of having many things that were purely decorative. He was used to practical women, not these colorful creatures that caught and held a man’s eye. Wid had said the Travian females ruled, but Joel found that hard to believe. These females looked like they did nothing other than spend time on their appearance, providing their males with provocative sights. He couldn’t help but turn his head and gape as one female floated by him with her breasts essentially uncovered.

  A sharp jerk on his leash forced him to turn back.

  “Don’t stare,” Firth admonished in a raspy voice that signaled his failing health.

  Seriously? How could Joel not with so much female flesh on display? While he’d been fed a steady diet of Firth’s cock until Kell had rewarded him and the other boys with a choice, Joel had never acquired the taste. He liked girls, always had. It had been forever since he’d seen even a glimpse of female breasts, and as nice as his girlfriend’s had been, they hadn’t looked like that. Still, he didn’t want to upset Firth. The guy looked terrible, shrunken and even paler than the creature normally was. He also didn’t want to disrespect him in front of the other Travians.

  “Yes, Master,” he said in a rushed, low tone. God, how he hated calling the alien that.