by Marie Harte
Slamming the door behind him, Pyrgo left Zachem and Tarn alone. The loud click of a lock sounded, and then silence filled the room.
Tarn stared down at him, his bright green eyes full of appreciation as they ran over Zachem’s body, lingering on his lips. “By now you probably realize I took that last punch on purpose. Sorry, Beast, but Master Furon and I made a deal. Trust me, this was the best way for us to come together. Now go ahead and vent. I know the effects of the stunner have faded.”
Zachem rolled off the bed to his feet, still trying to rid himself of the pinpricks of feeling invading everywhere. “I can’t believe you threw that fight. You were right there with me, and then I felt you hold back.” He paused, struggling with the need to keep his distance from the slave master and now cheat. “How could you?”
12
Tarn sighed and removed the robe he wore. He had on nothing underneath but the flat black collar at his throat. His cock stood stiff and proud as he walked toward Zachem. Despite Zachem’s shock and rage at Tarn’s deception, he wanted nothing more than to get on his knees and pleasure the man. And he hated himself for it.
“Why do you think I did it? I wanted you. And trust me, I took enough of a beating to keep me limping for days.” He pointed to the purple and blue marks over his right leg, as well as to the growing bruise on his abdomen. “I don’t heal as fast as you, Zachem.”
“You were supposed to fight me. You’re a slaver and a dick, but I thought I could trust you to at least fight with honor.”
Tarn grimaced. “There’s a reason for all of this. I want to trust you with the truth, but it’s too soon. We haven’t really bonded, not yet.” Tarn licked his lips and stared down at Zachem’s exposed front. He walked to the table beside the bed and dipped his fingers in a jar. Then he smeared the stuff over his cock and groaned. “I’ve been waiting for this. And it’s been so hard, waiting.”
Zachem couldn’t move. His feet froze to the floor, long-dormant instincts rising as Tarn’s scent hit him squarely in the balls.
Tarn approached and circled behind him. “That’s it. Just stand there and wait for your master to tell you what to do.”
Baffled at his desire to do just that, for a man he didn’t even respect, Zachem trembled with the need to rebel. To his shock, he couldn’t refuse Tarn.
“We both know what you need, my large beast. It’s okay,” Tarn said softly and slid the robe off his shoulders.
Soft, wet kisses spread between his shoulder blades down his back. Zachem’s dick spiked and creamed, the hunger for more filling his slit.
Tarn stroked and petted, the warmth of his large hands blazing a trail of arousal everywhere they touched.
Zachem’s vision went red, his desire for this male, this unworthy drun, overwhelming.
“Don’t move unless I tell you to,” Tarn warned and prodded him to spread his legs wider.
“What are you doing to me?” Zachem growled, wanting to hurt Tarn, to push him away and resist the compulsion to obey.
“I’m giving you what you need. Letting you submit, forcing you to give me what I want,” Tarn explained in hard voice. “Now be quiet until you’re told to speak. And don’t move.”
Zachem clenched his jaw tight and fought to defy Tarn’s order, not sure why his instincts had kicked in the way they had. He’d never before responded to any male the way he did Tarn, not even to his beloved Master Caegon.
Hands ran up and down his inner thighs, and he couldn’t contain the groan that erupted. A callused palm weighed his balls, then cupped them with a surprising gentleness. The contrasting shock of what he expected and what he received had him trembling with arousal. From behind him, Tarn reached for Zachem’s shaft, running his fingers through the wet slit to coat the entire rod with his moisture, and Zachem nearly lost it.
“That’s just what I like. A nice, wet cock,” Tarn whispered, rose, and kissed the middle of Zachem’s back.
He shuddered, caught in a lust so extreme he wanted to burst.
“Don’t come, not yet.”
Tarn spread his ass cheeks apart. “That’s a nice hole, Beast. So tight, so sweet. I wonder how it tastes…”
Zachem panted with anticipation.
“Lean forward. Ah, that’s it.” Tarn didn’t disappoint. He rimmed Zachem with his tongue, licking so lightly it felt like a whisper. Then he put more pressure there, alternately blowing then licking. He shoved his tongue inside Zachem’s anus, pushing harder into a tight passage that hadn’t been used in years. When he stopped, Zachem couldn’t help his moan of denial.
“Easy,” Tarn warned before shoving a slick finger inside his ass.
“Oh fuck,” Zachem cried, needing to come like he needed to breathe.
“Not yet,” Tarn bit out, then shoved another finger inside, stretching the tender flesh with a rough shove. He scissored his fingers, widening Zachem, preparing him for that massive cock. “Didn’t I tell you not to speak?” he rasped and swore, thrusting his fingers deeper. “I knew you’d be good, but you feel incredible, so tight.” Tarn pulled his fingers free and bent Zachem over the bed. He pushed Zachem belly-down on the bed and kicked his feet farther apart.
“I’m coming in right now,” Tarn rasped. “Come when you want to, because I’m going to bathe you with seed, my pretty beast. Stars, your skin is so bright you’re glowing.”
Before Zachem could move, Tarn pressed forward with more than his fingers. Thick flesh wedged its way into his ass and began to slowly, steadily push. He hadn’t been taken in years, and then only once by his handler in a painful, humiliating scene.
Tarn made him want this. Zachem couldn’t have said why, but he knew this union needed to happen. It was right.
Tarn coaxed him with his voice and continued to push. Energy flowed between them, a powerful tie of attraction and affection Zachem could feel inside Tarn. The burn of penetration only increased Zachem’s pleasure, and he moaned as he writhed on the bed.
“That’s it. Show me how much you want it.” Tarn groaned and shoved the rest of himself inside, until his balls smacked against Zachem’s. Tarn held there, allowing Zachem to feel all of him before he started moving.
Each thrust went fully in and fully out, Tarn’s length seeming endless as he continued to prod Zachem’s sweet spot. The alien sensation of being taken, when Zachem normally did the taking, brought him to another plane of pleasure altogether.
“Yes, yes,” he hissed as Tarn’s pounding grew rougher.
Animalistic grunts and groans filled the room, the scent of sex saturating everything. Tarn dug his nails into Zachem’s sides and fucked him like a man possessed, fueling Zachem’s need to be dominated by a stronger, tougher male.
Zachem tried but couldn’t stop himself. The rapture of orgasm spread through his entire body. His balls tightened, and he clenched his ass, stirring another moan from Tarn. The sweet sound sent him over the edge.
He yelled as he spilled all over the bed.
Tarn rammed harder, his cock like steel. “Fuck, yes,” he moaned in an echo of tones that didn’t sound human. Then he shoved once more and stilled, whispering Zachem’s name.
Just as he thought it was over, when Tarn finally ceased, Tarn leant down and bit him on the shoulder.
With sharp teeth that fucking hurt. “Ow, damn you,” Zachem barked, only to swallow another shout as ecstasy crashed through him. Another climax, this one from out of nowhere, caused him to shudder as a well of seed left him yet again.
Tarn kept his mouth around Zachem’s shoulder and fucked him again, this time coming with such force that trickles of Tarn’s passion washed over Zachem’s legs and ass. The scent of Tarn was so strong Zachem swam in it, a musky, sultry perfume the smelled like perfection itself.
When Tarn finally released Zachem’s shoulder, he said something in a language Zachem didn’t understand. Tarn withdrew, finally, and wiped his cock over Zachem’s back, spreading the mess everywhere. “Mine. Say it, Zachem. Say you’re mine.”
Too exhausted to think, Zachem did as commanded. “I’m yours.”
But then an odd thing happened. He fell into a dreamy lassitude, where a part of him drifted from his being. The sense of Tarn invaded like a conquering army, but instead of seizing what it wanted, Tarn’s invasion settled into his bones and his blood. Energy pulsed, grew, and warmed, like a soft caress of comfort.
“Shit, no,” Tarn groaned, as if from a distance. And then he must have pushed Zachem onto his back on the bed, because Zachem felt a mouth around his cock and the aching, familiar pressure of climax began to build again.
Time passed. Another climax and then another issued from him, pleasure intermittent with the painful stings of Tarn’s teeth. Nothing made sense but the utter rapture taking Zachem into the peace he’d craved his entire life. He submitted fully, not holding back, and was rewarded with a brightness that extinguished the dark always waiting inside him.
13
Tarn came back to himself and stared down at the shock of blood and seed that covered Zachem and the bed. Unknowingly, Tarn had performed half of the Ebrellion mating ritual. Caught in the grip of a lust so extreme, he’d lost himself in the erotic promise of Zachem’s perfect body, mind, and soul.
Without Zachem’s consent.
Shocked and ashamed at what he’d allowed to happen, he rose on unsteady feet and sought the attached lavatory. The mating bond was a sacred thing and should never be done without the consent of those involved. Tarn had no rationalization for his mishandling of the male he had come to care for. Losing control was no excuse, especially not to a seasoned warrior. He tried to ignore the ache inside him as he gathered some items to clean up his lover. To clean up Zachem.
He’s not mine.
Not yet.
But Tarn very much wanted Zachem to belong to him and no other. The need to complete the ritual burned, but Tarn wouldn’t do it. Zachem held a part of Tarn’s shei inside him, a part that drained much of Tarn’s energy. Tarn could continue to fuck Zachem every way he wanted, but until Zachem fucked him and spilled inside Tarn’s own honet, they wouldn’t be truly bonded.
It hurt to have Zachem so near but not truly his, but Tarn wouldn’t take that choice away from his lover. My mate. Mine.
Trying to shake free from his possessive feelings, he hefted Zachem over his shoulder with a grunt and cleaned him in the lav. Tarn left him in the shower while he stripped the bed and remade it with the extra sheets Pyrgo had thoughtfully left. Then he quickly returned to his lover’s side.
To Tarn’s relief, the many bite marks and scratches he’d left on Zachem faded as the male’s natural healing ability took effect. He couldn’t say the same for his myriad bruises and hurts, now that he’d disrupted his shei. But he figured he deserved them. With a scowl, he removed his collar and Zachem’s, prepared to tell his lover the truth about matters between them—to an extent.
Perhaps with enough time and by freeing Zachem, he could win Zachem’s trust. Once he had that, he could admit what he was and what Zachem meant to him. Already Tarn knew he would never be able to live without the man he considered his Creation. If Zachem rejected him, he’d literally die. With the bonding only half completed, Tarn needed it finished or he’d slowly fade into death.
But without Zachem, life wouldn’t be worth living anyway.
Tarn carefully carried his lover back to the clean bed and set him down. He left for the lav and cleaned himself, then returned to the bed to watch his mate sleep. The emotional coil inside his chest threatened to break free, and as he stared at the beauty of Zachem’s body and shei, he fought the weakness of tears filling his eyes.
He ran a hand over Zachem’s cheek and a finger over his firm lips. Tarn wouldn’t—he couldn’t—give up his mate. He could only hope his lack of control over these new emotions didn’t kill him in the end.
Zachem woke the next morning feeling loose, energetic, and totally relaxed. The last thing he expected to see was Tarn sitting in a chair by the bed, watching him with haunted eyes.
“Tarn?”
Tarn blinked and smiled, making Zachem wonder if he’d been seeing things. “How do you feel?”
“Really good.” He remembered everything from after the fight and fought a rising erection that had nothing to do with just waking up. “You’re not bad in bed.”
“I know.” The arrogance in Tarn’s voice amused him.
“Almost as good as I am.”
“No. You, Beast, are in another league entirely.” Tarn joined him on the bed and blanketed him with his body. Slowly, he lowered his lips to Zachem’s.
Tarn’s kiss rocked his foundation. So soft, so full of feeling. It made Zachem’s head spin. Tarn increased the pressure and trailed his mouth lower. He took one of Zachem’s nipples between his teeth and bit.
“Damn,” Zachem said on a breath. He should have been sated from so much use yesterday, but he wanted Tarn all over again.
“Let me.” Tarn made the request sound more like an order as he shimmied down Zachem’s body and took his cock to the back of his throat.
Curling his fingers into Tarn’s silky hair, Zachem couldn’t help arching up to cement contact with Tarn’s talented mouth. By the stars, his lover’s lips felt like a vise. The pleasure made him lightheaded as Tarn quickened his stroking tongue and bobbed over him.
“So good,” he murmured, trapped in a swirling haze of lust and affection. Tarn cupped his balls and inserted a finger into his ass, increasing the heady sensations heating his blood. “Fuck, yes. More.”
Tarn shoved another finger inside and sucked harder, and Zachem spewed in a rush.
And then Tarn was spitting his cum into his hand and rubbing it over his own cock. In seconds he pushed Zachem’s legs apart and angled under him, thrusting his steely shaft in deep.
Watching his lover, seeing the aching need, the desperation to come inside him, took Zachem’s breath away. He felt a connection to Tarn that went beyond submission, beyond the physical into something more.
“Mother night, you’re beautiful,” Tarn whispered and thrust in and out, his hands on either side of Zachem’s head. “I love your silver hair, those burning red eyes. So handsome, so perfect,” he said on a groan and pistoned faster. “You make me so fucking hard.”
He pumped a few more times before he came.
The ecstatic agony on his face mesmerized Zachem. He’d never forget this moment as long as he lived. Holding onto Tarn’s shoulders, he supported the male flooding him with seed. Their scents mingled, and a comforting hum pulsed deep inside his chest.
When Tarn withdrew, Zachem made no move to do anything but breathe, staring up at his lover.
“Shit. I didn’t mean to take you so soon again. I couldn’t help it,” Tarn said with a flush over his cheeks.
Intrigued by his embarrassment, Zachem murmured, “So you think I’m beautiful? Perfect?”
Tarn’s face turned redder, and he shifted to lie beside him. “Hell. I was caught up in the moment.”
Zachem turned on his side and leant up on his elbow, not wanting to miss a moment of Tarn’s unease. “As was I.” He gave in to his impulse to run his hand through Tarn’s hair.
Tarn closed his eyes and uttered what sounded like a rumble—much like Six’s deep purr. The comparison seemed apt, and Zachem wondered how he could forget so much about Tarn’s unsavory character after just one night, and one morning, of sex.
Spectacular, mind-blowing sex. Sex that made you pass out, it was so damn good.
“Stars, I could lay like this forever.” Tarn sighed. “But we really need to talk.”
At that moment, Zachem noticed what had been missing between them. Tarn no longer wore a collar. Zachem reached up to touch his own and found it gone as well.
“What the fuck?” He sat up and rubbed his hand over his throat. “What happened? How did you get the collars off us?” Ugly doubt darkened his good mood. “What did you do, Tarn?”
“Something I’ll probably regret,” Tarn an
swered with a curse then lowered his voice. “The truth is, I’m not a slaver. I’m here to recover something for my nephew.”
“What?”
“The Dorvian crystal. They’re selling it at the slave trade. I have to bring it back.”
“Back where?” Not a slaver? Dorvian crystal? Not a slaver?
“Back to my nephew.” Tarn scowled. “Had I known what a huge pain in the ass it would be to find the stupid crystal, I wouldn’t have come.” He stared hard at Zachem. “Then again, I don’t think I could have stayed away.”
Pleasure unfurled, that Tarn considered him worthy in some way. Even for sex, to be thought of in a favorable light made him warm all over. Master Tarn is pleased. He started.
“You okay?”
Not Master. No more submission. Not if I want to be free. “Uh, yeah. Fine. I’m just trying to process the coincidence.” He gave Tarn a suspicious onceover. “What are the odds I fought in the Dorvian Conquest searching for this mythic crystal, and it’s here on Colony6?”
Tarn’s eyes narrowed, and he sat up. “You’re telling me you fought in the Dorvian Conquest? That you actively sought this crystal?”
“Yes. I belonged to—I mean, I fought for Caegon.” It took effort not to refer to his old master by his given title.
“So some thief steals the Dorvian crystal then comes to a slave planet, where you just happen to be imprisoned, in an attempt to sell it to the highest bidder? You’re right. This is no coincidence.” Tarn stood and began to pace, his strength apparent in each step. As were his bruises.
Zachem refused to feel guilt for the contusions. “And don’t you look pretty in purple and blue.”
“Yeah. You pack a hard punch.” Tarn sounded distracted. “Zachem, you said you looked for this thing. Have you ever seen it or interacted with it in any way?”
“No one has.”