Trink rose also and shook his hand, as firm as ever. "You're saying I should sit by and watch Wulf get hurt."
"Sadly, to help the ones we love, sometimes inaction from us is exactly what they need most. Sometimes they need to learn to ask for help. Until then, they may not need or want it."
"I'm hardwired to be there for my friends." Trink let the tray hang at his side. "I'm not willing to turn my back on someone who needs help."
"Neither am I, but for now, I'm afraid I must." Luc handed him a business chip. "Get Wulf to call me before this goes too far and he loses his career over it. Sorry to say, I may be his only hope."
Chapter Three
Tarth City, Di Consueto District
Renyoj Building, Park Serenity Overlook, Wulf's flat
Sumertsag 21
When the beeping noise sounded again, Wulf rolled over on the floor and lifted his head. "Shut up!" He pulled the empty whiskey bottle against his chest and hugged it. Curled into a ball, he wedged himself between the lime green settee and the ice blue cube-shaped coffee table.
Fists pounded on the door. "Wulf! Open up! It's Fee. Let me in."
"Feeyona?"
"Wulf!" Fists pounded again.
He pushed himself to a seated position. "It's okay, idBot. Let her in." The idBot security system unlocked the door.
"Wulf?" Footsteps sounded on the tile floor, out of sight behind the settee. "Where are you, sweetie?" His fellow model came into view. "Oh no. Not whiskey again."
He waved the empty like a flag. "Second bottle."
She shook her head. "Come on." She helped him gain his feet.
He kissed her cheek and wrapped both arms around her. "I love you, Fee. Ya know that? You're the one friend who never lets me down. The one, babe." He kissed her again.
She waved a hand in front of her nose. "Wulf! You're so drunk I could smell it from the door." She propped him up with one shoulder under his arm. Nearly as tall as he, she supported him without difficulty. "Let's get you to bed."
"No. Wanna talk." Wulf tried to break free but Feeyona held him too tightly. "Don't wanna go to bed."
"You're too drunk to talk, Wulf." When he tripped, Feeyona caught him. "You're too big for me to drag all over like this. Stand still." She braced him against a wall to steady him while she opened the bedroom door. "Who broke your heart this time?"
He waved the bottle. "S'not broken."
"Sure it is. You get drunk and call me when your heart's broken. I've never known you to get this depressed over anything else."
"Not depressed." He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him. "Nobody loves me, Fee. Jus' you. If I could fall in love with a woman, it'd be you, Fee. You know that?"
"So you always say, Wulf." She patted him on the back. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you into bed."
Wulf let her guide him into the bedroom. She shepherded him into the bathroom and waited for him to relieve himself. When they reached the bed, she turned him around and walked him backward until his legs hit the mattress. He plunked down and fell onto his back.
"My head hurts, Fee."
"Nothing like it will in the morning, darlin'." She tugged his legs up and turned him sideways. "Smackers, you're heavy. Biggest model I know. You should've called me before you finished this. Let me have it." She took the empty out of his hand.
"That's"-- He hiccupped --"the second one."
"So you said." She sat next to him on the wide bed. "Close your eyes."
Wulf did, aware of her presence next to him but unable to move. "You never lemme down, Fee. D'you know I love you?"
"I know, Wulf. I love you too."
He felt the warmth of a blanket around him and then cool hands on his face. Soft kiss on his forehead.
"Fee." He gripped her wrist, unable to open his eyes. "I wanna go home."
"You are home, love." She caressed his face. "Try to get some rest. I'll sit with you awhile." She held his hand. Petting his brow the way his mom always had, Fee hummed a little song.
Wulf floated, his stomach unsettled, queasy. "Not gonna be sick this time. Not gonna puke on your shoes ever again, Fee. Didn't mean to do that."
"I know, babe." She stroked his face, tucked back a loose strand of his hair. "You're tired. Try to rest. I'm right here."
"I wanna go home." Hot wetness leaked at the corners of his eyes. "I miss him so much. So much." The warm darkness embraced him.
* * * *
Wulf woke face down and pushed himself upright. Grunting, he jammed one hand against a throbbing temple. His tongue felt sticky, his mouth tasted the way a wet dog smelled, and his bladder was so full he knew he'd never make it to the john. He held it in to keep from cleaning up pee. One smell of that and he'd puke.
Two empty bottles of Kelthian whiskey lay in the waste bin beside his bed. "You dumbass. Two bottles of Kelthian whiskey. Lucky you're not dead."
With deliberate care, he slid to the edge of the bed and leaned one hand against the wall as he stood. He held on until the room stopped spinning. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. You think you're the fuckin' Harbinger?"
The Man's ability to drink was legendary. No one out drank him. No one. Wulf had tried to match his record on many occasions.
The seat was down in the bathroom and all the towels had been folded and hung up. He yawned while he relieved himself. His sonic-brusher, a pain-stik, and a drinking glass sat next to the sink. "I must've called Fee again. I can't believe she puts up with my crap. If I was straight, I'd be a fool not to go for her." He rubbed his eyes. "As if she'd have me. I am such an asshole."
He stuck the pain-stik against his wrist and shuddered as the drug coursed through him. He swirled the brusher around in his mouth and rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
He dragged a hand through his sleep-snarled hair and grimaced at his reflection. Red eyes, lashes stuck together in points from sleep and tears. Unshaven. He leaned over the sink and peered at his chest in the mirror. Rubbed his eyes and looked again.
"Fuck. I shaved my chest?" He rubbed a hand over it. Smooth as a baby's ass. He groaned. He'd done it before for photo shoots; it itched like hell growing back. "Nice move, Wulf. You were drunk and stupid."
At least he didn't have a current lover who'd bitch about his shaven chest, or demand he shave anything else. The last thing he needed was some Dom telling him what to do. He peed again and then fumbled with the flush handle before he walked blindly to the shower.
Sex is so overrated. Who needs it?
The shower aimed jets at different levels, cycling first a hot mist, then cooler water to help wake him. He turned on a pulsing stream that massaged his shoulders and back. Bracing his arms against the tiled wall, he rested his forehead against them, closed his eyes, and spread his legs.
The jets of water on his legs washed away soreness. He turned a bit, letting it cascade down the inside of one thigh and then the other. When a pulse connected with his balls, he gasped and jerked forward.
A hot fantasy instantly took him. Wulf stood still, rationalizing away the heat that had swamped him, but each thought came back to one: Who needs sex? I do. He adjusted the jets to shoot straight out, then bent over at the waist, legs wide apart, both hands braced on the wall.
"Get those arms out straight." A deep voice commanded obedience. "Let that water beat you." A hard slap on his ass made Wulf gasp. "Wider, Wulf. Open up."
He complied, the pulsing current of water lifting his cock, and rocking his sac like a man's rough hand tightening a fist around him. Pleasure just this side of pain.
Wulf arched his back, his cock so hard he groaned. The man pushed Wulf's cheeks apart, letting the water pummel his hole.
"On your toes. Get up there! I want that water on you."
Wulf fought to comply, his legs shaking.
"Don't move." The voice behind him dropped to his knees and pushed his cheeks even further apart. The water stung like needles. All at once, the sting ended; the gentle touch of a tongue lic
ked across him, making Wulf cry out.
One foot slipped. Wulf regained his balance, arched and thrust back against the man's questing tongue. Around and around he licked, teasing in its tenderness.
"Open for me." The man pressed one firm finger inside, up to the first knuckle. Wiggled, pulled back a little, testing him. Moved all the way around, tugging on his hole. "This is the way I like you. Hot and open. Ready for me."
"Please." Wulf was sweating now, standing in the cool shower.
He slid his finger all the way in.
"You can take two." He pulled out, added another finger.
Wulf screamed in pleasure as he drove them inside. Rubbed against his prostate.
"I want my mouth on you when you come." The dark, sensual voice moved in front of him, down on knees, water splashing off black hair and skin, shimmering like diamonds catching the light.
"Mmm." That voice swallowed his cock. Sucked him.
Wulf trembled, arms shaking.
The man drove his fingers deeper, stroked him again. Pulling the trigger on his orgasm.
"Oh...please, Luc, fuck me!" He slammed forward, filling that hot mouth. Feeding his lover's throat with cum.
Wulf gasped for breath, flattening his feet on the shower floor. The man greedily clutching his hips and sucking him tilted back his head, mouth full, his cheeks hollow from sucking.
Eyes looked up. Eyes without whites. Solid black.
The Harbinger's eyes.
Wulf jerked free, danced away, and turned back, fists balled. Still shivering from the intensity of his orgasm, he slid down the wall and hugged himself, completely alone in the shower.
* * * *
Tarth City, Kelthian District
Trink and Yvan's Apartment, above Batchelors
Sumertsag 22
Trink and Yvan's apartment had none of the glamour of his own place. His was the vision of the decorator he'd hired to impress clients. Their place was brick and stone, with small windows and a worn and polished wood floor. None of the furniture matched. His place was a showcase. Theirs was a home.
Wulf pushed back from the dinner table and belched. Not to be outdone, Yvan matched him. Trink, shorter than either of them, let loose with a long, hearty brrraapp that rattled the dishes on the table. The three shared congratulatory laughter.
"Damn fine dinner, Yvan."
"Thanks, Wulf." The man lifted his mug in a toast. "Awesome beer."
"I'll drink to that." Wulf raised his and peered into the golden liquid. "Is this Tyran? I've never had better." He took a long swallow and wiped the foam from his mouth. "Smooth as they come."
"Kin stuff." Yvan tipped his up and emptied it. "Trink took it in trade the other day."
"Trade, huh?" Wulf took another sip.
"Yeah." Trink got up to refill Yvan's mug. "The Kin don't allow their males to sell anything. But I took six kegs in trade from one of them for about 100 kilos of prime grade rye." He set the mug in front of Yvan and leaned against his chair.
Wulf squinted. "What do you do with rye?"
Yvan wrapped an arm around Trink's waist and dragged him onto his lap. "This guy here is the reason we make so damn much money at Batchelors."
Wulf smiled at Trink's blush. The man might be the brains at work, but at home, he submitted fully to Yvan.
"He's one hell of a trader." Yvan settled his chin on his lover's shoulder. "He bought the rye cheap from an outworlder at the Trader's Market and traded it for beer. Took all but one keg of the beer and traded it for prime organic vegetables." He grinned at Wulf. "Get this. He calls the Jade House, one of the biggest restaurants in Tarth City..." He hugged Trink. "You tell this part."
He reached back and slid his fingers down Yvan's cheek. "They serve organics, and I'd heard from one of our delivery guys that their usual provider missed a shipment. They were hunting all over the city for another source, last minute." He shrugged. "I got fifty beef roasts in trade."
"Even better, he made a contact over there who promised to throw some of their overflow dessert catering our way."
"Guys, that's awesome." Wulf high-fived them in turn.
Trink winked. "More than one way to get rich, boys."
Wulf sat back and enjoyed the sight of these two old friends, so obviously in love.
Trink tilted his head to one side. "There's room for you, Wulf."
"Thanks, but I'd spoil it. You two are perfect."
Yvan snorted. "I know Trink is, but I ain't." He nuzzled his partner's neck. Trink giggled, scrunching up his shoulders.
What would it be like, being loved? Held and treasured instead of used? Black eyes swam into focus. Wulf shivered.
"You cold, man?" Trink got up and crossed to the small kitchen. "I'll make us all some coffee."
"Naw, thanks, I gotta go. I have a shoot in the morning." A lie, but he suddenly wanted out of here. Wulf got to his feet and stretched, yawning.
Yvan and Trink walked him to the door. Tarth City's cool evenings demanded a coat even in summer, and while Trink went to retrieve Wulf's, Yvan leaned a hand against the door next to him.
"It's late, Wulf. You're welcome to stay here."
"Thanks, but I don't live that far."
When Trink returned with the coat, Yvan held it for him, and then brushed aside his hands and buttoned it for him.
Trink reached up and ran a hand through Wulf's hair. "Your hair is perfect no matter what time of day I see you."
He smiled down at Trink, up at Yvan. "Model's tricks."
Wulf stood there, unable to pull away as Yvan stared down into his eyes. The man cupped his face in both hands, leaned down and brushed Wulf's mouth with his lips.
Trink's face swam at the edge of his vision.
"It's all right, Wulf." Trink slid his hand inside the coat and released the buttons. "We both want you."
He lifted his face to Yvan, searching for the truth.
"Let us take you to our bed."
Wulf made a soft whimper of lust. They backed him against the door. "Can't do this."
"Yes. Yes, you can." Yvan covered his mouth with his own, wrapped his arms around Wulf, and pulled him close. Hard body, firm arms, his mouth demanding, Yvan kissed with a slake's innate ability to tease.
Trink knelt and ripped open Wulf's jeans, started tugging them down. "Let us take care of you, Wulf. Let us love you."
"Wulf?" Trink snapped his fingers in front of his face. "You all right?"
Wulf sat up straight in the chair. The remnants of dinner were scattered across the table. Trink and Yvan were staring at him intently.
Fuckin' daydreamin' about my best friends. Wulf stood, kicked in the chair. "Sorry, guys. Must've zoned out there." He wanted to stretch but feared his erection would show. "Guess I'm tired. I should go."
"You're welcome to stay here."
That was way too close to his daydream for his peace of mind.
"Thanks, guys. But I have to get up early. Photo shoot at the train station over in Royal District. They're doing a spread on Imperinet about Draap's new shampoo."
"You use it?" Trink fondled a handful of Wulf's hair. "Yours always looks good."
"Yeah. I--I mean no. I do, but I--Uh, I gotta go." He took two steps toward the closet and remembered his coat had been tossed across their bed this time. "You know, I think I'll leave my coat here. It's not that cold tonight."
"Are you sure?" Trink started toward the bedroom. "I can get it for you."
"No, that's fine." Wulf opened the door and stepped half outside. "Thanks for dinner, guys. See you soon." He couldn't shut the door fast enough. They're prolly scratchin' their heads, goin', 'What's with Wulf?'
Inside the stairwell, he rubbed his face and shook himself. He pounded down the stairs and burst outside into the chill evening air.
When he arrived home, he sorted through the messages idBot had taken. One from his agent was marked urgent.
"Now what's that asshole up to?" He tapped the screen to open it.
"Cancel
Draap shoot tomorrow. They've chosen a new Face. Call me."
The Draap Face represented everything the company stood for. Wulf had signed with them three months previously, for a year-long contract.
Wulf blinked at the message, read it three more times before he believed it. "What? That son of a bitch!"
He paced the room. "Chosen a new Face? They can't choose a new Face. I have a contract." He tapped his own chest. "I'm the Face of Draap."
He hastened back to the screen and sorted through the rest of the messages, checking for more from his agent. A new message popped in as he was closing the program.
Wulf didn't recognize the name but the subject read, "Terms." Inside, one line: "If you want to work, do as you're told."
A background picture came into focus. Wulf caught and held his breath. He backed away from the screen.
The Draap poster of his own face now had knife slashes across the eyes, and the word "obey" gouged into the mouth.
Chapter Four
Tarth City, Imperial Business District
The Jade House
Sumertsag 23
The dark-honey depths of Luc's third drink swam with reflections from the table's outer ring of light. How many decades ago had Kelthian whiskey stopped affecting him? Two, three? Twenty? The man known as the Harbinger knocked back the shot and signaled for another.
From his private table in the back, the door lay in full view. A youthful crowd filled the place, their noise an insect buzz in the background. Synthetic music tinkled in the background. Android and human servers darted among the tables, trays balanced on upraised hands, pristine white towels over shoulders, their efficient uniforms crisp.
The door opened, admitted strangers, closed. No one who mattered.
The waiter replaced the empty glass and bowed away without looking at him. Luc paid no attention to the slight. Few ever held his gaze.
Two drinks later, he kept the bottle. Anything to pass the time. A different waiter passed his table, carrying the scent of beef, peppers, and onion. Luc set a fist against his growling stomach. He slugged down a few more drinks, keeping the door in view.
Wulf, Tales of the Chosen Page 3