Strain

by Amelia C. Gormley

  Rhys turned his attention to a spot on the floor in front of him and refused to look up, gratefully accepting the glass of hooch Xolani pressed back into his hand.

  “You get used to it, recruit.” Titus wrapped his arm around Xolani. Before the heat in Rhys’s face could begin to cool, though, Darius was back, his hand on Rhys’s shoulder, urging him up.

  “Say good-night, and come with me, boy.”

  “’Night.” Rhys ducked his head. If everyone was staring, knowing he was being led off for Darius to fuck him, he didn’t want to know.

  Instead of leading him back to his quarters, though, Darius took Rhys upstairs to one of the private rooms. In the thin moonlight that filtered through the dusty window, Darius lit a single candle. The hospital bed had been removed at some point, but there was a mattress on the floor, reminding Rhys of the dormitory.

  “Take off your clothes, and get down on your knees.” At Darius’s instruction, Rhys nodded, beginning to undress.

  Why now? Why here? Why hadn’t Darius done this earlier, in his apartment? Why bring Rhys here for this, if not to shame him?

  “I want you to be real quiet. No yelling this time.” Darius knelt behind him, working the plug out and setting it aside. “If you yell, I’ll have to gag you. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.” Rhys hid his burning face in his arms.

  “Sit up, boy.” Rhys obeyed, glancing around, but Darius shook his head. “No. Close your eyes.”

  Frowning in confusion, Rhys did as he was instructed. A wide strip of fabric pressed against his eyelids, shutting out the meager light.

  “Now, you listen to me.” Darius kept his voice a low, steady murmur. “I want you to remember this: in this room, every cock that fucks you is my cock. Every load someone shoots up your ass is my cum. You don’t need to see who it is because it don’t matter. It’s all me. Got it?”

  Rhys whimpered. He couldn’t help it. In an instant, the throbbing in his cock and aching pressure in his balls ratcheted up to full-on urgency. Everything was utter blackness as Darius tied the blindfold. He cupped a hand around the back of Rhys’s neck and drew him into a long, hard kiss.

  “Stay quiet and don’t ask any questions,” Darius breathed into his ear, and then Darius was gone. Rhys knelt alone on the mattress in the darkness, and silence followed the click of the door when it closed. Around him, he could hear the sounds of sex from other rooms, muffled grunts and groans. He tried to make out more sounds, to get an idea of where Darius was, but it was useless.

  It was a warm night, and the hospital room was poorly ventilated. Rhys’s skin grew damp and prickly as he knelt there for what felt like forever. Waiting. Waiting. His limbs began to grow heavy. Just as he planted his palm on the mattress, intending to shift from his knees and lie down, he heard the door open. Clothing rustled, a belt clinking.

  He went still as a hand brushed his shoulder.

  “Who—”

  “Shh.” Just that whisper, no more, and a bare body pressed against his back.

  Don’t ask any questions, Darius had said.

  Rhys fell silent.

  Whoever he was, he was a large guy. That much was obvious from the size of the arms that encircled Rhys. Joe, then? No. Not Joe. He couldn’t feel the metal of the nipple rings Joe wore. Kaleo, perhaps? Or maybe Bailey? One of the others? Someone whose name he didn’t even know yet?

  Gentle despite their size, the man’s hands slid across Rhys’s front in a featherlight stroke that covered his scrawny chest. Thick fingertips brushed his nipples, and Rhys shifted, pressing back unintentionally. The leftover lube made his ass cheeks slippery as he moved. Moist breath ghosted across the back of his neck, followed by a brush of lips.

  Body parts. Without a name, without a voice, without a face, it was all reduced to body parts and sensation. The person behind him rocked, and Rhys felt the firm pressure of a cock against his back, warm except for the spots where it left streaks of cooling moisture. Hands explored his chest and arms as if the owner had all the time in the world, rousing Rhys’s nerve endings one slow caress at a time.

  Skin damp with sweat slid against his. Lips tugged at his earlobe. A tongue trailed up the shell of his ear before teeth retraced its course, then nibbled their way back down. Phantom fingertips captured his nipples, squeezing then pinching until Rhys seized his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress a whimper. Anonymous nails scraped down his abdomen and along his thighs. A fist wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly, making no effort to bring Rhys to climax.

  Nude and blind as Rhys was in the darkness, the stranger could have simply taken him. Used him. Done his business and left. Instead, he seduced Rhys, made love to him with a sensual gentleness. Freed from the awkwardness of facing the man under circumstances that reduced sex to a dutiful transaction, everything changed.

  It wasn’t Darius. Rhys would have known. Darius’s touch, his scent, the feel of his body were indelibly imprinted on Rhys’s senses.

  It wasn’t Darius. But whoever it was, he valued Rhys.

  His throat vibrated with a silent moan, and the stranger urged him forward onto all fours. For the first time with someone who wasn’t Darius, the dick that slid easily into his ass wasn’t an unwelcome intrusion he endured in cringing humiliation. The semen it pumped inside him didn’t make him feel filthy and polluted. Tender hands embraced him, warm arms engulfed him, hot skin stuck to his as the unknown man’s breath slowed against the back of his neck and his shaking ceased.

  “Good to have you here, little brother.” The words were barely a whisper, not loud enough for Rhys to discern whose voice it was by tenor or accent. But the words were punctuated by the softest of kisses as Rhys turned his head, seeking the source of those words, and then the body behind his was gone.

  Another replaced it in time. And another after that. And one more after that.

  Each one kissed him and whispered a benediction, a welcome, before they left.

  Rhys wasn’t sure how long he lay there while they came to him, four in all, before Darius returned. After the first one, he stopped trying to figure out their identities. It didn’t matter. They were avatars, emissaries of Darius’s will. And they were his brothers, making him feel welcomed, cherished, wanted.

  Darius, he knew. His fingertips, the cadence of his breath, the touch of his hot skin, were all familiar. As rousing as the caresses of the others had been, they didn’t claim his flesh the way Darius did, even when he was gentle.

  And he was gentle. Far gentler than he’d ever been. He unwrapped Rhys’s eyes and inserted the plug again, then helped Rhys dress. Rhys’s skin was oversensitive after so many caresses, the brush of his clothing an unbearable friction. But he was content as he followed Darius out the door and past the ward where the party still went on. Not self-conscious in the slightest.

  He would never know which men had had him. It had been all of them and none. As if the time he’d spent in that room had been removed from reality. It had never happened. The men who had touched him were apparitions in the darkness, nothing more.

  Then he was back in Darius’s quarters, naked on the bed, and still Darius was gentle. Nevertheless, each touch felt territorial, branding him, marking his ownership on Rhys’s skin. He overwrote every other caress Rhys had received, growling softly behind Rhys’s ear, “Mine. My boy.”

  “Yes.” Rhys was lost in it. As Darius’s thrusts came faster, harder, smacking violently against his ass, Rhys let his cries ring out without any effort to quell them. In the midst of his climax, he missed the moment of throbbing and twitching when Darius came. As Rhys sank, panting, onto the bed, Darius licked his own hand clean of Rhys’s cum, then lodged the plug firmly inside Rhys’s dripping hole again.

  The bedroom was dark, but the moon shone through the windows, bleeding silvery light over the hardwood floor.

  “Go to sleep, boy.” Darius brushed a kiss across Rhys’s mouth and drew the covers up over him. Rhys nodded and stretched, going still as Darius pressed clos
e to his back and embraced him.

  He fell asleep with a smile.

  Rhys struggled to put Gabe’s presence at the fort out of his mind. The urge to see him, to find out how he’d survived and why he’d run off, whether he’d missed Rhys and how he felt now, was an ache that never went away. Xolani promised that as soon as they were certain Rhys wasn’t infected with one of the airborne strains, she would arrange for them to meet, but the fact that Jacob was already infected with the Alpha strain and Rhys wasn’t gnawed at his nerves.

  What if he wasn’t going to become a Jug?

  He learned dozens of names and faces those first few days at Fort Vancouver, and a good number of those he came to know in a far more physical sense. Each night, Darius took him back to that room in the hospital and blindfolded him. More anonymous men came to him, silent and unreal.

  Darius had duties throughout the day while they were at base, but sometimes he would come to Rhys as he worked in the warehouses or fields.

  “Come with me, boy.” He’d lead Rhys back to his apartment and, there, he’d strip and blindfold Rhys. The door would open and some unknown man would come in. He’d have Rhys the same as the others did in the evening, though it was full daylight, and that was different somehow. It added a delicious thrill to know the anonymous man could see him, naked and vulnerable, available at Darius’s command.

  After the first couple of times, it became apparent that Darius was also there.

  “He don’t mind it a little harder, you know,” he’d remark conversationally from the other side of the room. “Go ahead and breed him good. He likes it.”

  How was it possible to feel so dirty but not degraded? How could that blindfold and not knowing the men’s names and faces make such a difference? Shouldn’t that make it worse? Why didn’t he feel like a filthy deviant anymore?

  One time, Darius gave him to three men at once. It had taken the whole afternoon and a good part of the evening because they each took several turns. These men weren’t silent, though they didn’t identify themselves, and Rhys didn’t think he recognized their voices. They egged each other on and talked about Rhys as if he wasn’t even there. By the time it was over, Rhys was aching in every part of his body, because Darius had kept prodding them not to be careful with him. Cum was dripping out of his ass when the men had left, and then Darius did what he always did. Every day, he was the first man to have Rhys, and the last. When the others were done, he reclaimed Rhys, bringing him to a shattering climax, then stuffed the plug back in, stopping up that stream of semen spilling out of him. Then Darius held Rhys as he collapsed into an exhausted slumber.

  The times when Darius wasn’t there were much harder, though for the most part, the men who approached him were courteous and respectful. If it never came as easily to him as it did blindfolded, with instruction to consider every touch he received as coming directly from Darius, still he knew he could at least endure it until the week was over. Only one time did he feel truly shamed. Captain Martinez was kind and apologetic, but he made it clear he’d invited Rhys to his quarters only out of a sense of duty.

  After it was over, Rhys returned to shower in Darius’s quarters and scrubbed himself in the cold water until his skin stung. Then he dressed and went out in search of some sort of occupation to keep his mind off things.

  Which was when Jacob found him, naturally.

  “You know, you won’t be Darius’s pet much longer, faggot.” Jacob backed Rhys against one of the warehouses where Rhys had been stacking crates of rations to be delivered to the quarantine zone. “The guys in the barracks are getting tired of seeing you get special treatment. They think you’re stuck-up, especially after they heard how you tried to kill me so I wouldn’t tell them just what a little degenerate shit you are. As soon as Darius gets tired of you, he’ll send you to the barracks so they can all have their turns on you.”

  “What, feeling jealous that you haven’t had your turn?” Rhys mustered all the bravado he could, looking for an escape. God help him if Jacob did try to fuck him. “I know you’ve always been on my ass, but sorry, Jacob. You’re just not my type.”

  “Watch your mouth, freak. Now that I’m a Jug, I’m going to move up in the ranks fast. They know you tried to murder me, and that God wants me to triumph. This is my chance for real power. They respect me, but you’re just the camp whore, and they know that, too. After all, what sort of man bends over for a whole company?”

  “The sort that doesn’t have his head up his ass.” Rhys grasped for the emotional distance he’d always put between himself and Jacob’s words back at the monastery. It was harder now. “And you’re lying. Darius and Xolani wouldn’t let them—”

  “That nigger and his Arab bitch don’t have the authority you think they have. These people are looking for someone decent to lead them back to God. The Juggernauts could reclaim this nation, become God’s Own army. They could wipe out all the perverts and fornicators like you, bring what’s left of civilization back to the Lord. All they need is a leader with faith to make it happen. I’m going to be that man, just wait.”

  Rhys rolled his eyes. “Without us perverts and fornicators, you wouldn’t even—”

  “There you are, Cooper.” Rhys had never been so thankful to hear Titus’s gravelly voice as he approached from the mess hall. Jacob stepped back, and Rhys made a grateful escape. “Been looking for you. Thought maybe you might want some more weapons practice.”

  Titus clapped a hand on Rhys’s shoulder, and he felt stronger. Reinforced.

  “Hi, Titus.” Jacob pasted on an insincere smile. “If you two are heading for the target range, I’d love to join you. I feel like we haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other. Now that we’re brothers—”

  “Pfft, not a chance. Go be unwanted somewhere else, shit stain.” Titus propelled Rhys away by a hand between his shoulder blades.

  “I don’t get it.” Rhys turned to Titus when Jacob was out of earshot. “How is he making himself so popular? If you and Xolani can see through him, why can’t everyone else?”

  “Popular?” Titus snorted. “Who told you that?”

  “He did. He said the guys in the barracks really like him, that now that he’s a Jug he’s going to—” Rhys’s shoulders slumped. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

  “You think our people are stupid, Cooper?”

  Rhys shook his head quickly as Titus’s hand continued to guide him. “No, of course not. It’s just that everyone always used to believe him. Why should it be any different now?”

  “Everyone being his old man?” Titus scoffed. “You know, I’d just got the monastery in visual range on my infrared when the revs reached your family. I saw it happen, but I couldn’t get to them in time. I saw that chump leave his wife and baby behind and run.” Titus gave a low growl. “That’s how I knew to chase him down, though I was really hoping the rev that went after him would catch him first. Sort of man who’ll leave his family behind to be slaughtered while he bolts isn’t the sort of man we want on the team. Our people can recognize that he’s a coward who likes to talk big, even if they don’t know the details. We’re stuck with him for now, seeing as how he’s a Jug, but we’ve gotten rid of troublemakers before, and we won’t have any problem doing it again.”

  Rhys looked at Titus so sharply he missed an uneven crack on the paved path and nearly landed on his face. “You should know he’s taking aim at Darius and Xolani. Trying to undermine them. He called her an ‘Arab bitch.’”

  “Did he now?” Titus’s eyes, wrinkled with a perpetual sun-squint, glinted with amusement. “And just when I’d almost managed to convince myself stupidity isn’t a terminal illness. Well, she’s a Persian bitch, in the interest of accuracy. She ended up in the med corps during Iran because she could speak Farsi.”

  “Huh. I didn’t know that. So Xolani is a Persian name?”

  “Nope.” Titus laughed again. “Darius started calling her that when she joined Delta Company. Means ‘peace’ in
Zulu.”

  “Peace?” Rhys felt his eyebrows creep up.

  “Well, he didn’t have a word for ‘will rip off your face and eat it with ketchup.’” Rhys laughed so hard he had to lean against a tree for support until he caught his breath. Titus stood by, grinning at him in the afternoon heat and seeming very pleased with himself for making Rhys laugh, but after a moment he sobered. “Look, I don’t mind saying your pal’s life expectancy just got a lot shorter, Cooper. He steps a toe out of line, I’ll be there to put a bullet between his eyes, if Xolani doesn’t beat me to it.”

  “I thought you weren’t allowed to mistreat the recruits?”

  “Well, he’s not a recruit anymore, is he? Besides, who said anything about mistreatment? I’d kill him so fast it wouldn’t even hurt. Much.”

  Rhys pushed himself away from the tree, and they continued down the path. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do. And normally I wouldn’t think it, but in this case, I’ll make an exception. I’ve been part of Delta Company for twenty years, Xolani for eighteen. We’re a family. We have our squabbles and trouble, but after this long, most of the assholes have weeded themselves out. You think there’s a single person who’ll question my judgment over the best way to deal with that asswipe?”

  “No, I guess not.” Rhys peered at Titus closely, trying to decide if he was serious about killing Jacob.

  “You know what, Cooper?” Titus tilted his head, studying Rhys for a moment. “I think you need hand-to-hand training more than weapons training just now. We’re gonna go back to your quarters, and you’re gonna take out that plug I know you’re wearing. Then we’ll spar in the yard.”

  Rhys blushed and changed course toward the West Barracks area, where the duplex units like the one Darius occupied were located. “Yes, sir.”

  Titus burst out laughing, a deep, rumbling noise that sounded like boulders rolling down a hill, and Rhys blushed. He ducked inside Darius’s apartment to remove his plug, and afterward, he and Titus walked down the cluster of divided houses to the unit Titus and Xolani had claimed. It felt strange, walking without the plug for the first time in days. Rhys hadn’t even realized how accustomed to it he had become. But then he didn’t have much time to think about it as they stood in the yard, and Titus showed him how to throw a punch.