by Aubrey Cara
A QUARTER SHIFT EARLIER
FYHN
Our new pet—mate, she’s our mate—swings her legs and hums merrily until Ryat attaches his helmet to her head. When it starts conforming to her skull, she squeals and tries to yank it off.
“It’s alright, girl,” Ryat says, chuckling. “It’s supposed to do that.”
It’s silly to bother with a jacket and helmet. She doesn’t have Monrok skin, and would still die if exposed to the elements of space, but she just seems so fragile. It’s better to err on the side of caution. Ryat swings her back up in his arms, and our combined scents waft off her, making my cock twitch with life. In all the times Ryat and I fucked, we’ve never marked the other. It was an unspoken agreement, and a line we never crossed. Now, scenting our combined marks on our female makes me wish we could mark each other the same way we marked her.
“Where are we going, master?” Bek’a asks as the door to the airlock swooshes open and we cross over to our ship.
“Your new home,” Ryat answers easily, and I’m still unsure if we should be letting her get into the habit of calling us master and sire, even though it makes me want to tumble her back and rut her each time she says it.
“Temporary home,” I amend, leading the way to the bridge of our ship. Now that we have a mate, we can happily settle in on the Monrok-claimed planet of Kadeema. I think of the few females we saw at a distance during the short time we were on the planet then look at Bek’a, imagining her there, a glittering jewel amongst the green forests and valleys. “We may need to make her some clothes. Or put her in one of our shirts.” Even from a distance, I had seen that the other females on Kadeema were clothed.
Ryat snorts as he takes the helmet off our little pet—mate. “It would be a travesty to cover all this,” he says, palming her tits. And it would be. Our female is magnificent.
We’ve only seen old data intel on human females, never one in person, but we knew the second we saw the image, we wanted one. And if I could create the perfect female, she would look just like Bek’a. Her short frame is a nice contrast to our large ones. Her tits, hips, and ass are generously rounded and make me want to hold on to. Her eyes may be an unnatural shade of violet, same as her hair, but they are large and wide, fringed with dark-purple lashes, and she has pouty lips I want to taste and sink my cock into.
Just the thought makes me groan. I have to adjust myself to sit at the console. Fuck, I can’t remember the last time my lifebringer was in such a state. Ryat notices me rearranging my hard cock and gets a familiar gleam in his eye.
“We don’t have time for that,” I say, pulling up screens trying to find the vessel that seems to have disappeared off the map.
“We always have time for that,” Ryat says drawing our female closer with his arm slung around her waist. He whispers naughty instructions in her ear, which, of course, my Monrok hearing picks up. Which I’m sure he meant to do, the hadhr.
Bek’a appears uncertain. She bites her lip and from the flush that has worked up her lovely chest and neck making her cheeks glow, she finds his instructions appealing. She gets down on all fours and crawls toward me, her breasts swaying with each movement forward, and I can’t help grinning. I sit back a bit, widening my knees to make myself more accessible.
Propped on her knees, she runs her hands up my thighs. There is a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze as her hands hover over the closure of my pants. At my nod of acquiescence, she pulls open the cloth. My cock springs free so suddenly, she startles and giggles. The sound of her merriment as her little fist wraps around the length bobbing in her face hits me right in the solar plexus. As does the impish grin as she peeks up at me through the fringe of her dark purple lashes, her pink tongue sweeping around the crown of my lifebringer.
Her fingers don’t quite wrap all the way around my cock, and although her touch is much softer than Ryat’s or mine, it’s far more tantalizing. She teases me with licks and strokes before slowly sucking me into the confines of her hot mouth, only stopping when my cock head bumps up against the back of her throat. She makes a little sound as she gags, saliva escaping the seal of her lips and down my length before she does it again.
Fuck all. My groin tightens and contracts from her magical efforts. I glance over at the readouts, and my vision hazes before coming back to focus. It’s taking all my will not to grab her head and ruthlessly ram down her throat, rutting her face until I reach completion as I would Ryat. My eyes slide closed. I groan, reveling in the drag of her lush lips and wet tongue.
“How does her mouth feel?” Ryat’s question breaks me out of my lust-induced stupor. I open my eyes and scowl. He’s at my shoulder, shirtless. I was so far gone, I didn’t even realize he’d moved.
“Like it’s going to distract me and get us killed.”
Ryat pulls out his dripping appendage and waves it my face. “Then I’d like to accept death with enjoyment.”
“You’re such a fucking aheh.”
He fists the back of my hair, and I resist the urge to push Bek’a off my lap and fight him for supremacy.
“Suck it,” he says, knowing full well I won’t make him fight for it. Not now with my own cock happily enclosed in Bek’a’s sweet mouth.
Before Ryat can push it between my lips, I grab his cock and swallow him to his root.
Our female’s mouth pops off my length. She stares up at us in wonder, but I fist her hair, bringing her back to her purpose of bobbing and sucking.
Ryat chuckles. “Our pet likes to watch her masters play. I can see her enjoyment pooling under her,” he says to me, and then to our pet, “Normally he’d be getting me nice and wet so I could fuck his ass.”
Bek’a’s ass cheeks flex at Ryat’s implication. My sphincter also clenches at his words, recalling all the times he’s done just that. He pops out of my mouth, and I narrow my eyes at him in warning.
“But not this time,” he continues, without skipping a beat. He gets down behind Bek’a, spearing into her so suddenly she squeals, biting down on me. Fisting her hair, I lift her off me long enough to slap her face in reproach. “Bad girl, no bite.”
She whimpers with a pout, and I almost feel bad for reprimanding her.
Her mouth falls open when Ryat pulls out and slams back home, and I take the opportunity to stuff her full of my cock again. She hums around my length, and I see Ryat has a hand under her, likely strumming her little nerve bundle. My gaze is locked to where he shuttles in and out of her. His cock is glossy from her delectable nectar. Their flesh loudly slaps together every time his hips snap forward against her ass. I’d never admit it, but I know exactly how good it is to be fucked by that length. To have that sound ringing in my ears as he pounds into me.
I know our pet is enjoying being our little fucktoy, too. She’s not blocking anymore, and sends shock waves of pleasure rippling through the air each time she crests. And fuck, does she crest. Ryat’s head is thrown back, and I’ll bet her perfect cunt is gripping him in the best way possible. I can’t help but grab her head and force her down over me, groaning each time she takes me deep in her throat. The nails of her delicate hands dig into my thighs. Her silky tresses spill over my lap, so I sweep them aside so I can see how she strains to take me. Her lashes are wet with tears, but she lets me use her just as I wish.
My essence shoots out my length, surprising me and our new little mate with my sudden orgasm. She tries to swallow it all, but it’s too much, and she pulls back with my essence dripping down her chin. I grab her hand, making her jerk me as I cover her throats and breasts with strands of ropey white fluid.
With a roar, Ryat pulls out and comes against her little asshole, smearing his essence all over her sex.
Our female rests her face on my thigh, still lightly panting. She does not have cybernetics that calm her pulse the way we do. She’s made me all sticky with my own essence, but I don’t mind. Something feral swells my chest at seeing and scenting our female so thoroughly marked by us. It also awakens a longing in
me.
Ryat and I do not mark each other. We fight, we fuck. We spill on the ground. But suddenly I desire to cover Ryat in my scent, and to be covered in his, and to have all know that we belong to each other, just as Bek’a belongs to us.
It’s just not the way of the Monrok. To be claimed by another warrior would surely be seen as a sign of weakness. Did we not just prove we refused to be owned when we revolted against the Zapex?
I’m still tempted to take some of my essence and smear it on him. I casually swirl my fingers in my spunk on Bek’a’s chest, coating the digits as I eye Ryat. He looks up at me through a hooded gaze, as if daring me to try it.
I reach out to mark his sculpted chest, but he intercepts my hand, sucking my wet digits into his mouth. My groin contracts at the sight and sensation. He moans low in his throat, and an answering growl rolls out of mine. The call to dominate him trickles up my spine.
Sensors go off, breaking the spell. Bek’a sits back, her eyes widening as her gaze frantically darts around the room. I curse, tucking my cock back in my pants, and begin pulling up screens. From the corner of my eye, I see Ryat does the same.
“Ko’sars,” he snarls.
All sensual enjoyments and thoughts of marking my mates drop. My gaze snaps to the screen he’s looking at. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty fucking certain.” He points to the ship showing up on our sensors as a Monrok vessel, but it doesn’t have the right dimensions. “Only Ko’sar would have the type of tech to be able to dummy our signal so accurately.”
I glance out the control room window to the huge pleasure craft we are attached to. Floating around the outer rim of Zapex space, the king’s ship might as well have a bullseye. It is not equipped to fight, and we need more than two Monrok to properly man this guard vessel. I wonder if the Ko’sars know we Monrok have taken our independence and the Zapex sovereign is vulnerable, or if they’re just wandering Jar’jn space looking for a fight.
Either way, the king is dead, and we need to jump first or prepare to engage.
“Get everyone over here now.” I push out of my seat heading for the main passageway, Ryat at my heels. I grab an ambient pressure resistance jacket and a helmet on my way to the shuttle bay, shrugging on the covering as I walk.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking a scout craft out, to head them off,” I say, not breaking stride.
“Head them off?” Ryat shouts. “Are you suicidal? They have a warship!”
The ship’s bay holds fifteen scouts and one three-man explorer craft. The second we enter, I head to the scout closest to the bay doors. “I have a plan. They’re close enough I can go up to them cloaked and knock out their sensors before they know I’m there. It’ll buy you time to get everyone over to the guard ship, and jump out of Jar’jn space.”
The scout crafts are almost pod-like, the back half a seat, and the front all window and controls. It sits like a cracked-open egg. I move to hop in, but Ryat grabs my arms, spinning me around.
“And if you are not back by the time we jump?”
I glance over his shoulder at our newly acquired mate. Her skin’s gone pale. Her frightened gaze hops between Ryat and I; her hands clench together in front of her as if, lacking anything to hold onto, she chose to hold onto herself.
I nod my chin in her direction. “Take care of her. We did not travel all this way to forfeit the females and our lives at the first sign of trouble.” I wrench my arm out of his grasp and jump in the craft, already cybernetically linking to the vessel and powering it up. “If I don’t return in time, leave without me.”
Fisting his hands, Ryat roars his fury.
“I am but one,” I call as I’m sealed in. “Until death releases you.” The words taste bitter in my mouth, and echo around the enclosed space. Monrok Warriors were created to serve and protect, and the only way to be released from that is through death, but I do not want to be released.
Ryat mouths until death back at me, his tight lips moving over clenched teeth, gaze dark. He throws a crude hand signal at me before swinging our pet up in his arms and storming out of the bay. He will get the others and likely jump space before the Ko’sars engage in battle. With the precious cargo of females onboard, it is the logical thing to do, and Monrok are always rational. If I can knock out their sensors, they will never know we were here, nor will they be able to follow.
Determined to aide my brethren in their escape as best as I can, I put on my helmet and make my way out the subdoors to the launch pad, already setting my little craft to cloak. Any chance I have for survival banks on not tripping the Ko’sars’ sensors before I destroy them. As I shoot out into space, my gut clenches with trepidation for the first time in my remembrance. I have never had this much to live for. But I’ve also never had this much worth dying for either.
Vera
Numb, I watch Xanthia get her spanking. I follow in the wake of her master as he drags her down the sterile passageway. It’s nothing like the king’s ship. The floors are cold and hard, the walkway not even wide enough to fit two Monrok abreast.
Xanthia pipes up in front of me as we enter the bridge, “Master, please listen to me. If Vera is concerned—”
Her master shakes her, cutting her off. “If the veran knows something, she can speak up herself.” He gives me a sneer. “Did that oracle pussy of yours tell you anything useful?”
My ire rises at his tone, my hair whipping around my head in angry snaps. These Monrok believe they are so superior. “Only that my master will be discovering the limits of his mortality shortly.”
His eyes narrow. “No games. What did you see?”
“The king’s ship exploding…with him on it.” An aching throb starts in my chest and moves behind my eyes.
“Did you tell him?”
I think back to what he told me when I asked if he wanted to know, and frustration eats at me. “He wanted his fate to be a surprise.”
He curses as the other Monrok file in with their pets. “We must disengage and cloak the ship, quickly.”
“What’s the plan?” Bek’a’s master asks.
“We’re going to jump out and cycle back around.”
“We’re letting the Ko’sars take the king’s ship?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“But we’re cycling back around?” The dark--haired Monrok asks, a hopeful edge to his voice.
Xanthia’s master glances at me before nodding. “Just in case,” he says, but I know there is no point.
Xanthia’s face scrunches, and she stomps a foot. “Master, you cannot let—”
“That is enough,” he snaps, and fists her hair. “There are holding cells in the brig of this vessel for creatures much smaller than you. Would you care to occupy one to think of all the reasons why you do not talk back to your master?”
The little pet’s eyes go wide as she shakes her head. “No sire.”
“Then you will sit in the corner and not make a peep. And, pet, if you throw another tantrum, you get my cock in your ass right here in front of everyone. Then you will get to go sit in a cell. Is that understood?”
Xanthia trembles, nodding her head, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Yes, master.”
I guide her over to the only spot that doesn’t have control boards. The floors are a cold, utilitarian surface that I immediately regret sitting on. My poor ass is tender from Dag’s use.
Dag. My Monrok master was as arrogant as he was overbearing. And I enjoyed him more than he will ever know. He awoke emotions I did not know I was capable of. A window spread out across an entire wall shows the king’s ship to the right. My heart drops. He’s over there now, the prideful beast. My sisters told me Dag was my fate, but they must have not looked far into my future. A bitter part of me wonders what my new fate will be. For the first time, I have no one to tell me.
Each of the warriors moves to a station, and the pets look adrift. Like lost little lanji looking for their mother, their gazes seek me out, and, o
ne by one, they migrate toward me. They are a scraggly lot, some still stained with Monrok spunk, their hair in tangles around their heads. My own thighs are sticky from the Monrok’s bestial need to mark us with their essence.
“Prepare to disengage,” one of the younger Monrok calls.
“Wait.” Xanthia’s dark master stops him. “Where’s Ren?”
“We are here. Go ahead.” Lena’s new master strides in, with her. She shoots a glance over to the corner where the pets are congregated around me, but her master, Ren, tugs her leash, leading her over to a spot along the main control board, and points to the floor at his feet. Lena gracefully lowers to her knees, her head bowed, and I catch sight of her ass, striped with welts and bruises.
Not for the first time this cycle I wish my sisters were here with me. What if we erred in keeping the pets alive? I know I will survive whatever may come, but what of them? What hardships will these delicate creatures face? What if their fate with the Monrok is worse than a simple quick death beside the king? I have always been the girls’ unspoken leader, guiding them into this new life, but uncertainty plagues me.
“Prepare for jump drive,” a Monrok calls out.
My limbs tingle, and we get one last close-up glimpse at the only home the pets have ever known. The drag of jump is much more disorienting than on the king’s much larger vessel, where it is hardly felt.
“How quickly do you want to go back?” asks a dark-haired Monrok. I believe he’s one of Bek’a’s new masters. She’s watching him with tears in her eyes. It may be the stress of the pets around me clouding my view, but he seems anxious. The lines of his face and shoulders tense, as if he’s straining not to leap from his seat and fight some invisible foe.
“Give the Ko’sars time to get to Thaain’s ship,” Xanthia’s master says. “Then we can circle back, and hopefully get cloaked before they notice us.”
“What if we don’t get cloaked in time?” Yana mutters but Xanthia’s master pins her with his intense gaze.