by Susan Lain
His bruised ego matched his lip. He shouldn't have been caught so easily. He needed to get back into training.
The last man standing grinned and pointed the phase resonance gun at Alek. "I suppose strictly speaking I don't need any more practical tests to know that this weapon works like a charm. Let's call you…a bonus."
Alek hurried to speak in the faint hope that someone might come. "What will you do with it? Sell it to the highest bidder? Hunt mythkin for fun?"
"Hmm. Maybe I could start a whole new franchise of sports hunting. A once in a lifetime opportunity to face the deadliest monstrosities known to man—and annihilate them." The mercenary sure sounded satisfied with the idea, his voice hoarse, as if he smoked three packs a day. "I'll make millions. People really hate mythkin."
Alek scoffed. "The only monsters here are humans like you. The mythkin never harmed us on purpose. Only humans do that, slaughter defenseless animals for personal pleasure." He spat at the man's feet, a touch of red blood amid the clear saliva.
The mercenary chuckled. "When you're right, you're right. I am absolutely going to enjoy this."
Then he shot Alek.
*~*~*
The chamber grew obscure, as if a fog rolled in and blanketed the world under a gray haze. Slashes of pain, red as blood, cut through the mist. Alek groaned. His stomach roiled. Every nerve ending burned, the agony almost unbearable. He faintly heard himself howl in torment.
He couldn't breathe; the fumes must have been noxious. Then it dawned on him.
Smog gnomes. I'm going to die.
He couldn't see the chair or the binds anymore, but he could feel them. He couldn't move a muscle no matter how hard he tried. Alek was clearly half in and out of his own phase and the other.
All of a sudden, the gray veil lifted and he saw it. The other world.
"But I'm underground," Alek whispered in awe and confusion. "How…?"
What at first glance seemed like familiar natural features like mountains, forests, and lakes, soon he saw the strangeness and couldn't unsee it.
The mountain range, gray and rugged and snowcapped, was dotted with gigantic machines, their gears, wheels and axels composed of black, gleaming metal. None of these clockwork-shaped mechanisms turned, spun or hummed. When Alek narrowed his eyes, he could detect maroon-hued rust staining the surface of the joints and cranks, and many were half-buried under piles of rock and debris. They were ancient and inoperative.
Alek gasped. Who had built and deserted them? Were the mythkin secretly a technologically advanced civilization? Or had they devolved and returned to their primitive state? Or was a hidden culture buried somewhere beyond his limited senses, formed by a separate entity from the mythkin? Had these machines once been powered by mythkin and controlled by another species, only for the masters to be overthrown by their slave labor?
Instead of finding illumination, Alek was filled with the excitement of new questions. He'd had no idea the other world would perplex him so.
In the forest, Alek should have made out trees. Instead he saw fields of archaic statues of animals, both earthen and mythkin—but with human faces. Moss and vines grew and wound around their surfaces, made of stone and wood. Lichen hung off the statues' limbs and the items they carried: lyres and flutes, books and quills, sickles and hammers and plows, and so on; objects of civilization. It was like watching old, emerald-green, party decorations.
Shocked, Alek could do naught but stare wide-eyed. He felt like he was looking at ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses with human bodies and animal faces—only in reverse. Animal figures with human visages. Zoomorphism, Alek recalled the term, except in some kind of mirror image.
"They've known about humans for ages. And they picture us in their art. Incredible," he whispered. Tears welled in his eyes. "Breathtaking…"
Valleys filled with lakes and rivers of silver and gold liquid mesmerized him. What could they be? Alek wanted to run over, dip his toes in, smell the air, and be one with the world he'd only ever caught whispers of. When it came to the alternate dimension, he'd been blind but now he could see. And it was glorious.
"Aargh!" Alek screamed when pain shredded his insides.
His body was torn away from the alternate dimension back to his natural phase. He'd experienced pain before in his life but never anything like this, as if his body was a wet rag being wrung dry by strong, merciless hands.
The secret HPB base and its cold stone chamber welcomed him like the hollow of a grave.
"What? Not a mark on you." The leader of the mercenaries stepped closer, head tilted in obvious bafflement. "Well, those beasts will soon get a second chance."
Alek felt the alien pull increase in and out of his body, as if he were being stuffed through a pinhole and stretched into infinity at the same time. His skull rattled and throbbed. He cried out again, still unable to break free.
As the chamber began to dissolve into gray mist again, the last thing Alek saw was Eliot on his tiptoes, inching behind the last goon standing. "No!"
But Alek couldn't stop the phase shift that seemed to distort time.
Once more, he was surrounded by ashen-hued gas. He coughed, breathing laborious. The air smelled foul, carrying a familiar, recognizable odor. Carbon dioxide. Alek gasped, searching for oxygen that didn't seem to be there.
I'm going to die. Eliot, I can't help you. Please be alright.
Then he heard the buzzing. Alek blinked into the shapeless void, knowing what he would see. The giant creatures glided toward him on smoky wings, eight eyes shimmering silver and blue, stingers waving beneath them, each oozing sticky, acid-green droplets.
"P-please, I mean you no harm," Alek mumbled in between pants and coughs, his voice so hoarse he barely heard it himself.
But the smog gnomes continued to advance, their low drone vibrating inside his ribcage.
Then new sounds emerged. Barks, growls, howls, yaps. Canines?
Alek held his breath. He had distinguished those sounds from the invisible world his whole life. But he had never seen the mythkin that created them. In the human phase, the owners seemed to be a quiet sort. Only dirty energy mythkin growled.
The powdery fog parted like curtains as the smog gnomes withdrew and disbanded into the air, growing elusive and transparent, soon vanishing from sight.
Fresh air washed over Alek who inhaled greedily, his eyes watering, his throat sore. When he could finally focus, gas gremlins surrounded him.
Bronze-hued slick skin, thin limbs, scurrying movement. Their large pointy ears fluttered and their fox-like muzzles twitched as they sniffed and cocked their head from side to side. Golden eyes watched Alek with curiosity and toothy grins seemed more joyous than scared.
"Hi there," Alek murmured, keeping his tone low so as not to spook them. "Thank you for saving me." A shaky smile rose to his lips as his eyes welled once more. He'd waited so long for this moment. His emotions ran amok. "I'm so happy to finally meet you."
Leaping, the gas gremlins approached. One jumped into Alek's lap, filling his nostrils with whiffs of petrol. The gas gremlin leaned up, its tiny webbed hands braced over Alek's chest, leaving smeared handprints on his shirt, and then a warm nose touched the tip of his.
A frisson of current, like a static electricity spark, arced between them, from nose to nose.
Alek chuckled, tickled by the touch. The gas gremlin drew back—and giggled. Alek gasped. That was a sound he'd never heard the creatures make. Mimicry or shared amusement? In his heart Alek knew the answer.
"You're so cute," he whispered, leaning in to press his cheek against the gas gremlin's ear. The beast gave a short yap as if to bite him, but Alek could tell it was just playing. Alek wanted to scratch behind the little one's ear, but he couldn't with his hands bound even though he couldn't see the chair, invisible in this phase. Golden eyes closed and a purr followed as it rubbed its face over Alek's cheek. "I knew you were sentient."
The gas gremlin pulled back and vaulted off him so fast its
movement was a blur.
Alek groaned when his body was yanked back to his own phase. How could he stop the phase shifting? Would he continue to uncontrollably move between dimensions until his eventual death?
Suddenly his body was covered by gas gremlins, a swarm of them jumping on him. They attached themselves to him like sticky glue. Were they protecting him from the phase shift? Or did they try to stop the shift? Alek dared to hope for the best.
Fetor of raw petroleum caused his stomach to recoil. His vision blurred. Spasms of torture wracked his body as he was pulled back to his own plane.
"Oh God." Back in the cold metal chair in the exact same place he'd left, Alek leaned over the armrest, about to throw up but the nausea abated when the transversal ended. His throat worked but no bile came up.
The gas gremlins hopped off him.
"Thank God you're okay," a familiar voice called out, out of breath, raspy from crying.
Alek blinked and his sight focused. Eliot hurried over to him and kissed him breathless so many times that Alek felt like he was drowning in kisses. When Eliot drew back to unbind Alek's wrists, Alek noticed the body of the mercenary leader lying on the floor, a bloody gash on his head.
"What the hell?" Alek muttered, his mind still reeling from everything he'd gone through.
"Huh?" Eliot glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. "Had to hit him on the head pretty hard to get him to go down. He's not dead, just unconscious. He'll have a bad headache later."
"What'd you use on him?"
"A metal pipe. There are several on the shelf back there."
"Jesus Christ, Eliot." Alek stood on precarious legs and shook his hands still aching from the binds to get blood flowing properly. He stayed in place for a time, expecting the phase shifting to continue. But it didn't. What had stopped them, Eliot or the mythkin? Alek observed the phase resonance weapon lying next to the mercenary. "You took him out and acquired the weapon?"
Eliot nodded, then rubbed a hand across his forehead. His skin held a fine sheen of sweat and a feverish glow. A response to adrenaline maybe? "What do we do with it? We can't let it leave the facility. All mythkin would be in danger."
Alek knew exactly what the best course of action was. He grabbed the weapon off the floor and handed it to the closest gas gremlin who accepted the gift with an inquisitive sniff. Others also surged closer to investigate the offering, a chorus of growls and barks emerging.
"Take it to your world and destroy it," Alek said, praying the creatures would understand his message. "No human should ever have it."
One by one, the gas gremlins faded into their own phase until they were completely gone. And so was the phase resonance prototype. Alek released a long sigh of relief.
"That was clever," Eliot commented with a satisfied smile. "No one will be able to steal it from another dimension." He chuckled then, crossing his arms over his chest. "The mythkin you've heard your whole life are gas gremlins then?"
"Yes." Alek snatched handcuffs off the mercenary's belt and attached his hands behind his back and to the foot of the heavy metal table bolted onto the floor. He also shot the man on the neck with a tranquilizer dart, just in case. This lowlife wouldn't be going anywhere.
"So…" Eliot bounced on the balls of his feet, his face a picture of excitement. "What was it like in the other phase? Was it beautiful?"
Clenching his fists, Alek locked gazes with Eliot and growled, crowding Eliot's personal space. Instead of answering Eliot's question, he said, "I should spank your butt raw for your recklessness." Eliot gasped but Alek didn't give him a chance to respond. "I saw you sneaking up to him before I was torn to the other side. I couldn't help you. You could have fucking died."
"B-but I didn't," Eliot argued back, clearly confused.
"That's beside the point." Alek leaned in and whispered, "I was fucking worried. You won't be doing any more heroics, like, ever. Understand?"
Eliot's jaw dropped. Then it snapped shut, and his eyes sparked when he stepped closer till their chests bumped. "You do not get to tell me what to do."
Alek narrowed his eyes. He would show Eliot just how wrong he was. There was a way he could bend Eliot to his will, a method they would both enjoy.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alek pushed Eliot against the table, crashed his mouth over his, and conquered with all his might. The need to feel Eliot, alive and well, safe in his arms, against his body, in his mouth, almost overpowered him.
Eliot moaned, went pliant, and wrapped his arms around Alek's neck. Their kiss deepened. Alek breathed in Eliot's scent and taste, licked and sucked his tongue and fused their lips till not an air molecule broke free.
When Alek pulled away, Eliot panted, "This is ridiculous. I saved you, for fuck's sake."
"You did, and I thank you for that. But I specifically ordered you to avoid these fuckers, not assault them. I told you not to put yourself in harm's way, dammit," Alek snarled and whirled Eliot around, bending him over the table. He pressed his bulge to Eliot's butt and rubbed back and forth. "You won't jeopardize yourself again, if I have anything to say about it."
"Are you kidding me?" Eliot fought against Alek's hand pushing him down by the neck. "I did what I had to. Besides, it was one fucking guy, not ten."
Alek fiddled with Eliot's belt and zipper, yanked down his pants, exposed his naked butt, and spanked the pale globes till they bloomed red with his handprints. Eliot squirmed and cried out. But Alek sensed his rising arousal too because he shared it.
"You will never endanger yourself like that again, am I clear?" Alek smacked Eliot's ass, causing him to shiver and moan. "You will never disobey me when I know better, do you hear me?" Another series of spanks followed, Alek showing little mercy and Eliot mewling and shuddering.
When Alek stopped, he fished out a travel-size tube of lube from his pants pocket, probed Eliot's tightly puckered hole, entered with a gentle touch and coated Eliot's channel with ample dollops. Eliot huffed but stayed put until he began to push back.
"Ready?" Alek asked. Eliot nodded back in return, sinking against the table, submissive to the last. "This'll be rough," Alek warned. He felt they both needed this, a touch of warmth after a day filled with cold death.
Eliot rested his cheek on the table and a slow smile spread over his full lips, a dreamy gaze in his half-lidded eyes.
Holding Eliot down with one hand over his neck and another over his hip, Alek pushed his way inside. His cock burned with need. Eliot's channel welcomed him with slippery, snug warmth. Alek had little choice in the matter as he thrust in steadily till he was in to the hilt. There he sighed, desire demanding more.
"Fuck me, Alek, please," Eliot murmured, his fingers clawing at the table for purchase but unable to find any leverage. So he exhaled and seemed to cave, collapsing with an exhale. That was what Alek had waited for.
Alek pinned Eliot down, covered his back with his body, and started to move. He wasn't slow or easy. Eliot's ass dripped with excess lube, the passage tight but slippery, and Alek could do as he pleased. He set a brutal pace, claiming every inch of his lover, fucking him with hard, fast, and deep surges.
"Never again, Eliot," Alek growled into Eliot's ear, nipping sharply at the fleshy juncture of his neck and shoulder, sucking up love bites. "You won't be so careless in the future, that much I guarantee."
Eliot cursed up a storm like a pirate and wiggled about. "I won't apologize for doing what I had to, so you can just shove it."
He cried out and threw his head back when Alek did just that. Alek slapped Eliot's sweet backside a few times to make his point. Eliot responded exquisitely, half-submissive, half-rebellious in his movements and sounds. Alek relished the sighs and gasps, screams and moans.
Eliot is alive and well. He's safe and in my arms. Right where he belongs.
"Apart from barking orders at me," Eliot murmured, out of breath, his eyes closed and his face slack with pleasure. "You're sort of silent during sex."
Alek chuckled, conti
nuing to ream Eliot, shoving him forward against and over the table with each thrust. "I'm listening."
Eliot blinked and tried to push himself up, his gaze flicking around the room. "You hear a mythkin?"
Alek laughed harder and shoved Eliot back down. "No, I'm listening to you, precious, and all those luscious sounds you make in heat."
"Up yours," Eliot grunted, slumping against the table but wriggling his butt.
Alek slapped his bottom. "I could reply with a smartass retort, like you, but it'd be too obvious."
After that neither man spoke again. Alek wound an arm around Eliot's waist for leverage. He kept peppering kisses over Eliot's neck, shoulders, and upper back, as much as was exposed by the askew shirt. The scent of woodsy aftershave enticed him for more tastes. He switched tempo to a faster beat, pounding into Eliot, utterly uninhibited, letting himself go in a way he'd never done with another lover.
Despite being made of metal and bolted to the floor, the table shook and creaked with an ear-piercing sharp screech every push. Eliot went taut, then pliant, and back again. Alek snaked his hand lower to grip Eliot's hot, dripping cock and tugged with firm strokes.
"Yes, yes, yes," Eliot called out, a blissful smile on his up-curved lips.
Alek couldn't have wanted for greater perfection than giving pleasure to his lover. He let his lips linger over Eliot's thumping jugular, scraped his teeth over already red skin, and then used his hand on Eliot's chin to force him to crane his neck upward for a sloppy but succulent kiss.
Eliot cried out and his hips bucked. Thick hot streams of come coated Alek's hand as Eliot orgasmed. The essence of male musk and bittersweet man-juices drifted in the air.
Alek rocked back and forth, seeking the edge of pleasure. He chased it with a vengeance. As Eliot came, Alek trailed after him, spinning headlong into ecstasy. His cock felt engorged and heavy as he spilled his seed inside Eliot—too late realizing he didn't have a condom on.
"Fuck…" Alek sighed, not knowing what to do. His hips kept flexing as he pumped the last of his come inside Eliot's spasming channel. "I-I'm sorry, Eliot. I forgot."