Matters of State (Space Portal Vector Book 2)

by A. Phallus Si

  Damien grinned and gave thanks. Ferrier smiled with a look of... fondness? Even if he continually made an idiot of himself, their growing friendship was worth all the embarrassment. He unlatched the box and lifted the carved lid.

  A gold cuff lay on a silken bed. It flashed, encrusted in starfires and bloodstones, and the light danced off it. It was... it was too much.

  “I can’t—” Damien started to refuse. Ferrier plucked the cuff out of its box and fastened it around his left wrist. “It’s—”

  “Beautiful,” he said. “Of course you can accept this token,” Ferrier continued before he could further protest. It didn’t look like a mere token. And it certainly didn’t feel like one, the weight of it was a presence.

  “Are you certain that it isn’t too... valuable?” It did look expensive. Damien had never seen anything like it.

  “It is common for young men like you to have such things with my people.” Damien eyed Ferrier’s rather austere black flight suit. Yes, it coordinated with the dark gold of his skin and the deep black brown of his hair, but he saw no evidence of similar adornments on him.

  “But you have none.”

  “I don’t wear cuffs because I am past the customary age.” Ferrier probably noted Damien’s dubiousness because he added, “Another time I will tell you more about them, but now, I must go. Keep it on you, yes?”

  Ferrier stalked back towards the moorings. He turned one last time. “Don’t take it off, Damien.”

  Cycle Six

  Another guy walked away from him with nothing but a look of disgust. Either there was something wrong with him, or the Golden Jackal was definitely not his lucky bar. He hadn’t been here in a couple cycles, but Damien didn’t recall the patrons being so dismissive or outraged at his overtures before. Maybe there was something wrong with his scent. He discreetly tried to smell himself.

  Fuck it. He ordered another Tamal brew and watched the vid screen.

  “If you want any hope of finding company tonight, you’d better lose that Caurentian band,” advised the bartender. “What?”

  “Your promise band.” Indicating the cuff Ferrier had given him last cycle. “No one here is gonna fuck what belongs to another jackal. Least of all that one.”

  “My what?” Damien shook the wrist in question at the bartender. “This?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  Promise band. Just what had Ferrier given him? “What does it mean?” he asked.

  “It means a very powerful, ergo, dangerous person has decided that you’re theirs. And no jackal with a lick of sense would even think about getting on the wrong side of it.” The bartender shook his head and leaned in. “What you’re wearing costs more than what most here earn in cycles.”

  “It was a gift.” Damien stared at it as if surprised by its presence. He’d worn it for a cycle and quite forgotten it was there most times.

  The bartender shook his head. “No. It was a declaration.” Damien was trying to sort out what it all meant when he asked, “You need help, kid?”

  Did he?

  He threw some creds on the counter muttering, “No.” Deciding things were definitely not going to improve, he walked out and headed towards home.

  Knock…Knock

  A constant barrage of beeping awoke him. Ugh! Damien struggled to untangle himself from the bed coverings and stumbled to the entry. Leaning against the wall, he engaged the comm unit and grumbled, “Who is it?”

  “Hayden Ferrier.”

  Damien was suddenly alert. The captain? Here? Ferrier never visited. Giving up on any attempt of appearing less disheveled, he disengaged the security measures, and the barrier slid open.

  “What do you need, Captain?”

  He seemed taken aback. “You were sleeping,” stating the obvious.

  “Yeah, I started a switch schedule. Come in.” He turned towards the nutrition unit and requested an energy protein beverage. “Do you want anything?”

  Ferrier looked conflicted and then stepped inside, allowing the panel to slide closed. “No. I’ve already dined.” And then blurted out, “You’re not dressed.”

  “Yeah, I thought we covered that. I was sleeping.” He pulled up the thin pants that had fallen low on hips up and secured the ties, scratched his naked chest, and yawned before taking a gulp of his drink. “So, what can I do for you?”

  Oh god, not the staring again.

  “Problem with the Rebellion?” Damien was getting tired of carrying their conversations, especially since he wasn’t the one seeking them out. Comets, collisions, and solar flares! What did he want?

  Ferrier was staring at his wrist, then his face, and points in between.

  Noting his regard, Damien said, “Might have told me what the hell this cuff meant before you let me put it on last cycle.” He leaned back against the counter. Ferrier quickly glanced at his wrist again and smiled. He looked smug. Yep, definitely pleased.

  “Did this mean something, Ferrier? Because—”

  “Hayden.”

  “Sure, Hayden.” Glad to know he was an adult now. He waggled his left arm. “Did you mean something by this?”

  “I assume you were in the Golden Jackal during the last cycle.”

  “Does it matter where I went last cycle?” he exclaimed. He was grumpy now. “I walked in there and I was a pariah. What the hell is a promise band?” Damien’s irritation had overridden his usual obsequiousness, and the interrupted sleep no doubt added to it.

  Hayden stonewalled him.

  “When did we make any promises?” He slammed down his cup, stepping closer.

  Hayden grabbed him by the band. “I made a promise to myself. I made one every cycle, but it wasn’t until last cycle that I knew I was close enough to achieving my goals to make it formal.”

  “Don’t you think you should have told me?” Damien tried to pull free unsuccessfully. Then his brain caught up with what Hayden had said. “Make what formal?”

  Hayden grabbed his other wrist and pulled him closer. “To court you.”

  Damien searched his face, looking for the joke. Surely? Then he started laughing.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me? Six cycles and... and now you want to date?” The hands tightened around his wrists. Damien abandoned his feeble attempts at escaping as the warmth from Hayden’s body surrounded him. Lured him.

  “How much do you know about Caurentians?” Little puffs of breath caressed his cheek as Hayden inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if he was drawing in all that was Damien, piece by piece, sense by sense.

  “Only what’s available in the cultural logs. I didn’t even know you weren’t human until it came up in negotiations during father’s private dinner three cycles ago,” he huffed. “There isn’t a lot in the records beyond the basics, mostly trade conglomerations, and certainly nothing about courting or mating if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Hayden nodded, looking unsurprised. The deep tenor of his voice drew Damien in as he began, “There are rules. Certain requirements, you might say, that a Caurentian must achieve prior to bonding. Financial and professional accomplishments one must meet before they can pursue personal entailments.”

  “Wait. You had to acquire enough money and rank before you could fuck me?”

  Hayden looked incensed as he yanked Damien flush against him. “I didn’t need to do any of that to fuck you, but I never planned to settle for that. Fucking was never going to be enough, not after I met you.” His lips brushed lightly against his ear, temple, then cheek.

  “So what? You secretly want me and have planned for cycles to commence a relationship, and yet, at some point, wouldn’t it have made sense to... oh, I don’t know, express that interest?” Damien was trying to ignore how amazing it felt to be held by Hayden. Cycles of imagining didn’t come close to reality, even if they were nearer to fighting than fucking.

  “Did you ever think I might want it?” He leaned into Hayden, whispering, “Want to know?”

  “I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell you. C
ouldn’t tie you to me for the brief time the Rebellion docked!” Hayden bit out in frustration. His body was rigid with tension, too hard to relax against, but Damien tried to inch closer.

  “You’re young! You deserve the freedom to explore. To experience life before you were to consider bonding. You’re still too young, but I’m too impatient to wait any longer.” Hayden seemed embarrassed now. “To be honest, after that evening when I escorted you out of Stripes—”

  “You mean dragged me.” Indeed the captain was flustered. “Yes. When I interrupted your evening—”

  “—And took me home before leaving me alone.”

  “Yes. Not one of my better moments. I know you enjoy companionship,” Hayden growled, and then cringed when he realized it. “And I had... have no right to comment on it. But seeing those Thylacines circling you in a mock dance of mounting brought out a possessiveness I wasn’t aware I had.” Hayden leaned down and rubbed his cheek against Damien’s.

  “They never did let me back in.”

  “No they wouldn’t have.” Hayden seemed even more uncomfortable. There were a few moments of silence before he explained. “I claimed you when I challenged your companions.”

  “Oh stardust.” Damien thumped his forehead against Hayden’s chest. “Do I want to know how?”

  “Probably not, but it was mostly verbal.” That explained the snarling.

  “Except for when you rubbed against my front, then spun me around and repeated the procedure while forcing me out?”

  “Yes.” And the marking.

  “And then, the next cycle you claimed me with this promise band.”

  Ferrier smiled. As annoyed as Damien was, it was hard not to get lost in it. But that was beside the point!

  “Were you ever going to tell me, or was your plan to eventually just kidnap me, and I’d be mated when I woke up again?” Damien was pissed. After all this time they could have been doing... doing lots of things. Maybe even things he’d been dreaming of.

  “The Rebellion is being demagnetized and the hull resurfaced.”

  Great non sequiturs! Of course, Hayden would deflect. It was the one constant thing in all their interactions over the cycles. Damien was too tired to try and figure it out, drag him back to his point. He just went along.

  “That’ll take 25 T-cycles to finish.”

  “At least a flare,” Hayden agreed. “I was hoping to woo you.”

  Damien snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think those words mean the same thing to me as they do to you.”

  “It means” —Hayden grabbed hold of his chin, angling it up—“I intend to convince you of all the advantages to being bonded with me. Starting now.” The amber of his eyes was almost swallowed by the black of his pupils.

  Hayden’s mouth descended, paused just before impact, and then gently pressed against his. Softly, they met, lips warm and firm. Teeth nibbled at the edges, and with his exhale Hayden’s tongue traced the opening. Damien yielded to their request, his lips parting. Hayden’s tongue slipped in further. Hot and wet, but what started so tenderly became hungry. Gentle became fervid, and soon he was being ravished. Damien’s tongue was sucked and stroked, and the rest of his body took notice.

  He broke free and panted. “My shift starts soon.” Damien’s cock was throbbing, the loose pants tented.

  “Should I send you out like this?” Hayden’s hand stroked his shaft. A whimper escaped Damien’s lips. He was trying to formulate a response. “Or should I relieve you?” His hand picked up the pace. “Well?”

  Damien thrust into the firm grip. “Please.”

  “As you wish.” He spun Damien and pulled him back, his head resting on Hayden’s shoulder as that wicked hand pushed down his pants and resumed stroking his naked flesh. Sliding easily with the pre-come Hayden had collected from the slit as it continued to ooze.

  “Look how your pretty cock weeps for my touch.” Oh, the filthy words Hayden uttered as he ruthlessly stroked him made Damien keen, and they just kept coming. “I want to tie you up and see how wet you become without a single touch. Just leave you tied up as I play with you. Would you beg for me?”

  “Oh god, yes,” Damien moaned. Inhibition gone, he thrust into his fist harder as Hayden licked his throat. “Yes, yes...” His words dissolving under the onslaught.

  “Thought about it, haven’t you?” Hayden’s unrelenting focus was consuming him. His cock was spitting under his grip. Damien was more than ready for Hayden’s games. “Wishing, wondering, and wanting,” he leaned close and whispered. “Weren’t you?”

  Damien grunted in reply. Hayden’s dirty talk was turning him on more than he would’ve imagined. He wanted more. “Always... always want,” Damien moaned as he fucked into his fist.

  “Are you my little hedonist?” he queried. “Just chasing the next sensation, you wanton,” he growled. “Available for any hand or cock to please you— slut.” He chuckled. “You can’t even think anymore.”

  He couldn’t. Damien twisted his head around and licked at Hayden’s throat, whining desperately. The salt and flavor of him exploded across his tongue. Just a little more. He bucked harder.

  “Aren’t you eager.” Hayden chuckled as another spurt dribbled down. “I bet you’d be pretty like that, all spread out, immobile, begging, but not today.” The hand was moving faster, squeezing and twisting. His large thumb rubbing across the head, pushing into the slit, and he kissed him, collecting Damien’s gasps. Hayden was on a mission to find each spot to torment and delight him, cataloging the responses. Finally, after the rough, twisting pulls, he squeezed the head and strummed lightly underneath—gently, back and forth.

  “Today you’re just going to come for me, beautiful.”

  “Yes,” Damien whined. His hips stopped thrusting as his whole body seized while pulse after pulse of come painted his stomach and Hayden’s forearm and hand. Damien slumped, all his weight leaning against the captain. Hayden kept stroking him through each pulse, stopping just before it hurt.

  He felt like he’d been melted. “Let me.” He tried to let his knees fold so he could reciprocate, but Hayden wrapped a forearm under his chest, holding him up.

  “Later. Time to clean up.” Hayden kissed his temple as he drew a cum- coated finger across his lips and then into Damien’s mouth when it eagerly opened. He licked it clean and was fed another until they were all immaculate. The soft growls finally stopped when Damien finished laving the webbing between them. “You need to prepare for your shift.” With a smack to his ass, he herded Damien towards the cleansing unit.

  And the Knocks Keep Coming

  Damien was still riding his Hayden-inspired euphoria when he finally got to Inspections HQ. Sipping another energy infusion after the last T-unit with Hayden—in the kitchen, and the cleansing, and trying to get dressed when his hands were slapped away, and then manipulated like a doll into his uniform, which honestly did nothing to calm him down or get him here on time— Damien needed his rejuvenation elixir. Which is why, when half of it nearly ended up on him, he was rudely drawn out of his erotic daydreaming by the hyper wall that suddenly blocked his path.

  “We got the clearances to inspect the Versyllian ship.”

  Damien’s liaison was practically bouncing up and down in excitement, which seemed incongruent with both his position and sheer size as a Bauman. D’spyros was nearly half again as tall as Damien and twice his width; he was massive. And here he was gleefully twitching.

  Well, there went getting back to Hayden anytime soon. He sent a quick message to the captain and then grabbed the tablet to review any stipulations the GCC, Galactic Commerce Commission, imposed. None. They had carte blanche on all cargo, interior, and exterior spaces for the Nautilus-class vessel, Silken Caravan.

  “Let’s get the team briefed.”

  “Already on it,” D’spyros said. “They’re waiting outside the bay.” He grinned at Damien. The paperwork had taken two dockings to finally get. This was their chance, after cycles, to get the proof that the Versylli
ans were subverting regulations.

  Damien grinned back, clapped him on the bicep, and said, “Spyros, let’s do this.”

  After nine T-units, they still hadn’t found anything. Each crate’s contents matched the manifest perfectly, all the quarters were searched, maintenance access areas cleared, and nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  The Silken Caravan’s senior crewmembers stood quietly along the bay wall. Captain Akros appeared unconcerned, arrogantly detached. As did the other members of his crew to varying degrees, except for one. Flavian, the engineer in charge, kept glancing at the security team and rubbing his neck. But they’d already been through the propulsion and environmental operations.

  Why was he so agitated? Damien reviewed the ship’s readings again. No obvious flags, but then there wouldn’t be if they were adept smugglers. And, with as many times as Captain Akros had been through SPV7Z-218, he was undoubtedly quite good. Something one wouldn’t notice in a general inspection. Think. What don’t we look at? Damien quizzed himself, running through screen after screen of data. Not the engines. Environmental? What should I being look for? Damien ran by them once. Backtracking, he slowed his scanning down. The gas exchange values were off. Even accounting for Damien’s team, the nitrogen, carbon dioxide, and oxygen levels were imbalanced.

  “Rescan for life signs.” Damien looked over at the Silken Caravan’s EIC. “Start with the engineering sectors.”

  Whatever it was—It was aspirating. It was alive.

  Damien was shooting off a quick communiqué to his father about the inspection when a tall figure brushed against him. Breathing softly in his ear, “When I awoke alone, I tracked you down.”

  He chuckled. “I wish I were in bed.”

  “Hmm... yes, warm and naked under me.” Hayden’s tongue traced the edge of his ear, nipping the lobe. The sharp pain woke him up faster than one of his revitalization boosts.