Amorous Overnight

by Robin L. Rotham

  He loved her. And miraculously, she returned at least some measure of his tender feelings, as well as a gratifying portion of his lust.

  But what really slew him was that she was so protective of him. The idea should have been laughable, and Peserin knew his initial reaction after she accused the minister of abusing him had been mortal offense that such a tiny, helpless female would consider herself better able to defend him than he was. But once the stinging haze of embarrassment dissipated, he’d realized how clearly she saw him, how accepting she was of that aspect of his nature, and how very much she would risk in the name of his wellbeing. The realization had humbled him profoundly.

  And when he went to beg her pardon… Powers, but she’d taken control of his pleasure with an assurance worthy of the most dominant of males. Though she’d seemed shy and almost embarrassed by her boldness afterward, she had claimed him, not the other way around. And the claiming had made him as bold as she—he hadn’t hesitated to comfort her by pouring his gratitude into a kiss.

  There hadn’t been another such incident between them since, but he had every reason to hope for more. Sometimes when their eyes met, awareness sizzled between them and her hunger for him called forth ravenous hungers of his own. He’d been enchanted by her power when she claimed him, but he was still a warrior with a warrior’s needs and someday soon he would have to claim her as fiercely as she’d claimed him.

  Until then, he would resign himself to accepting whatever physical intimacy the minister offered, even if he felt like a whore afterward. Having Shelley’s love would be worth the emotional pain and indignity.

  Whore.

  His kicks slowed as a thought struck him. Prostitutes on Earth provided services far beyond what Cecine had demanded—perhaps it was time to turn the tables on him. Talking with Shauss and Tiber this evening had unearthed longings Hastion had buried almost ten years ago. He hadn’t forgotten anything about Joga—the smooth feel and salty taste of his cock. The warm, musky scent of his skin. The terrifying thrill of kneeling before him. The sense of joy and harmony that pleasing him instilled.

  Hastion remembered all that and more, and he longed to experience it again—only this time it was the minister he wanted to experience it with. The thought of suggesting such a thing was daunting, especially after their last encounter, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find the nerve when the time came. Minister Cecine possessed a power that had nothing to do with his rank, and Hastion was unreasonably vulnerable to it.

  But that power didn’t make the minister invulnerable—he clearly harbored a few unseemly urges himself, urges that complemented Hastion’s but were in direct conflict with his own principles. He wasn’t going to abandon those principles, so if there were going to be anything more between them, Hastion would have to initiate it.

  And why shouldn’t he? Since Shelley had swallowed his seed and he’d had the presence of mind to order Empran to record the moment, his claim to her was now final and it would take an act of the high council to cut him from the bond. Technically he was free to express himself at will outside a military context, even if the minister wasn’t required to listen. As it stood, matters could hardly be more awkward between them.

  He was going to do it. Now the only question was, how?

  Turning over in the water, he set the matter aside and began to swim in earnest. He’d think more clearly after he’d given his body a good workout.

  When he finally emerged from the ocean, clearheaded but shaking from his exertions, he was startled to find the minister standing fully nude on the shore. His heart thudded uncomfortably at the sight of that fine, golden-red chest hair. He’d felt it against his back but he’d never touched it. The only time he’d touched any part of Cecine except his wrist was when they sparred, and then he’d had no time to savor the contact.

  Though his stomach contracted with nerves, Hastion’s resolve hardened. He would touch Cecine intimately, even if it was in his capacity as a whore, and he’d do it tonight.

  As he approached, Cecine asked, “How did your father receive the news of your sister?”

  And just like that, the male threw his wits back into disarray.

  His throat tightened as he slicked the water back out of his hair. Peserin, but he hated the bitterness gnawing at him. “Naturally he was disbelieving at first, but by the end of the evening they were already quite close.”

  “I am glad to hear it. From your tension, I was concerned things hadn’t gone well.”

  Discomfited by the observation, Hastion went on the offensive. “Sir, may I ask a personal question?”

  The minister grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I might not answer but you may ask.”

  “You said you’d had an arrangement with a compound secretary.”

  “Yes. You probably remember Portia Mitchell.”

  “I do, sir.” Hastion grinned despite his tension. “She was most noted for being habitually absent from the secretarial pool. I assume that was your doing?”

  “It was indeed. My convenience tended to arise late in the evening and often persisted until near dawn, so her sleep schedule became quite erratic.”

  Hastion kept his features expressionless but he felt another stab of bitterness. The minister’s convenience with him had never persisted for more than a quarter hour.

  “Why do you ask about Portia?”

  Knowing how much more time Cecine took with Portia, his nerve almost failed him, but Hastion steeled himself. “Did she ever perform oral sex?”

  “I fail to see how it is relevant, but yes, she did.”

  “Was it something you found enjoyable?”

  Cecine’s brow rose. “You have to ask?”

  Squirming inwardly, hating the awkwardness but determined to prevail, Hastion replied, “It rarely pays to assume facts not in evidence, sir.”

  “Where is this leading, Ensign? Please get to the point.”

  “I ask, sir, because…I am experiencing digestive distress this evening, and I thought perhaps rather than inconvenience you, I might serve you in some other manner.”

  Those deep-gray eyes bored a hole through him. “Are you offering to perform oral sex, Ensign?”

  Swallowing, he nodded. “Yes, sir, I am.”

  Cecine was truly stunned, and not a little offended. Did the young whelp think him so selfish, so completely without mercy?

  “I would never make such a demand upon a warrior,” he growled. “Incapacity is a perfectly acceptable excuse for inconveniencing me, otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed you so many weeks to recover from our last encounter.”

  Hastion’s eyes widened before he looked away, and Cecine had the distinct feeling he was rethinking his strategy.

  “It’s not a demand if I offer,” he finally said.

  “Would you not feel demeaned?”

  “I really don’t see much difference, sir, between offering my ass and offering my mouth.”

  “You don’t, eh?”

  “No, sir.”

  There was one critical difference that apparently hadn’t occurred to the ensign—they would be able to see each other’s faces.

  “I suppose it’s safe to assume this will be a new experience for you,” he observed.

  After an almost infinitesimal hesitation, Hastion said, “Yes, sir.”

  Cecine’s eyes narrowed. Would it be a new experience for him? He’d certainly experienced it from the other vantage point—Empran had notified Cecine when the ensign’s claim became final, and both he and Kellen had witnessed it before he ordered the recording deleted.

  But had Hastion experimented with another male in the weeks between the discovery of prostate-induced ejaculation and their bonding? Or even after their bonding? Neither was impossible. Nothing in their laws prohibited males from engaging in sexual activity outside their bonds.

  Disturbed by the idea, he said, “All right, Ensign, I’m willing to experiment, but you are under orders to withdraw if you find the task disagreeable.
There is no shame in refusing to serve in such a manner.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  For a moment they just watched each other, and then Cecine gestured toward the path. “Shall we return to the house?”

  “If it pleases you, sir, I would rather remain here. The sand will be easier to kneel in for an extended time.”

  “Kneeling will not be necessary, Ensign. There are other ways of accomplishing the task.”

  Hastion’s face remained impassive. “The muscle tension involved in standing makes the experience most satisfying for males, and if I am to do this, I would do it well.”

  Frowning, Cecine said, “I would not make a warrior kneel before me.”

  “You are my superior officer, and the greatest leader in our planet’s history. I would be honored to kneel before you.”

  Cecine’s frown deepened. How in Peserin’s hell was he supposed to argue against that?

  He inclined his head. “At your pleasure then, Ensign.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Hastion knelt at once with his knees spread, presumably for greater balance, and Cecine couldn’t help but wonder if the cock hidden by that tight brief had begun to stir. Peserin knew, the ensign’s intentions were enough to put his own cock at rigid attention.

  “I assume you have…preferences regarding this activity, sir?”

  “I prefer leaving you to your own devices for the time being,” Cecine replied. “If you do something I dislike, I will alert you.”

  “Yes, sir. And how do you wish your ejaculation induced?”

  Cecine couldn’t decide whether to laugh or take the ensign by the head and stem the flow of questions with his cock. Portia hadn’t required any tutelage. She’d simply seized him and sucked. She’d clearly had ample experience, though she’d never tried penetrating him or they’d have discovered anal orgasm months earlier. Watching Hastion try to prepare for every eventuality was as amusing as it was frustrating. If he weren’t careful, he might find himself patting his second on the head.

  “I’ll leave it up to you.” It took a great deal of restraint not to add Please save any further questions until afterward.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The ensign took a deep breath—bracing himself?—and then placed his cool, damp palms on Cecine’s hipbones. He hovered there for a very long moment and Cecine began to suspect he was having a change of heart. Perhaps this truly was new to him.

  But then he glanced up from under long lashes clumped with sea water, his blue eyes shadowed in the dim light, and something stirred in Cecine, thinning the air in his lungs and making his heart thump faster. There was a challenge in that look, a confidence and certainty that were at odds with, and yet somehow complemented, his obvious apprehension.

  Courage. His young bondmate had enough of it for legions of warriors. That alone made him precious beyond measure.

  Without conscious thought, Cecine reached out and settled his hand on Hastion’s wet head, letting it rest there for a moment while they stared at each other. Then he closed his fingers on a handful of short hair and pulled the unresisting male forward, using his other hand to direct his cock between the full lips that opened to receive him.

  The deep sigh that flowed across the base of his cock as he shoved into that scalding hollow raised hairs all over his body. His ensign was relieved. Courage had taken him as far as it could, and now he needed encouragement and guidance.

  Cecine was savagely thrilled to provide it.

  Hastion discovered paradise under the minister’s hand. Strong fingers drew him forward, holding him in place, keeping his mouth filled with thick, hard cock. He sucked instinctively, curling his tongue underneath to explore the intriguing creases and veins.

  Dermal scrub. The minister had bathed before seeking him out.

  Hastion was almost disappointed. He would like to do this after the minister sparred, when he was drenched with perspiration and reeking of testosterone.

  But then he remembered that, no matter how clean it was, the minister’s cock would eventually give up his seed, and he sucked harder, anxious for the taste.

  The minister grunted. “Peserin, yes. The harder the better, Ensign.”

  Exhilarated, Hastion leaned into him, taking him deeper, sucking even more strongly. He was rewarded with another grunt and fingers tightening in his hair.

  “Keep that up,” Cecine murmured. “Just like that.”

  Then he began to move his hips, thrusting forward and sliding back as he held Hastion’s head in place. Within moments, a new taste snuck up on Hastion’s tongue. Sharp and yet elusive. Salty and slightly bitter, musky and entirely male. It could only be pre-ejaculatory fluid.

  His own cock began to beat a vicious drumbeat of need in his brief, and he groaned deeply as he let his hand drift down to press hard against it.

  “Mmm, groan again, Ensign.” When Hastion obeyed, the minister groaned himself. “That feels remarkable.”

  His movements lengthened, taking him deeper, all the way to the back of Hastion’s mouth, and Hastion opened his throat, preparing himself for more. He’d seen Terran males slide their long, thick cocks straight down the throats of other males on the Internet, and he was determined to have Cecine do the same to him.

  The pace of the minister’s thrusting accelerated, growing less measured, less restrained, and saliva ran from the corners of Hastion’s mouth, dripping onto his chest.

  “Choose your weapon, Ensign,” Cecine growled. “My patience nears its limit.”

  Hastion’s stones tingled. Wiping saliva from his chin with his fingers, he steeled himself for the final hurdle—invading the minister’s most private orifice. He reached between Cecine’s spread legs, underneath that tightly drawn sac, and felt for his opening. When he touched the pucker of skin, heat flashed over his own skin, nearly blowing the top off his head. He was touching the minister’s anus.

  Paradise was going to kill him.

  His exploration had left his fingers dry, so he passed them over his dripping chin again and returned, determined to breach the minister and induce his ejaculation. He probed the pucker carefully with his longest finger and felt the muscles give deliberately.

  “Make haste, Ensign.”

  He slid his finger past the tight layers of muscle and into the minister’s rectum, and it took him only seconds to locate the prominent knot of his gland. When he rubbed it in a firm circular motion, Cecine growled loudly.

  The next thing he knew, the minister had seized him with both hands and was thrusting deeper into his throat. Hastion’s head grew light with arousal, though he was alert enough to angle a few degrees to the right to avoid being bruised by the other male’s spur. When Cecine thrust deeper and held there, Hastion clutched at his hip and gagged, but he managed to maintain the pressure on his prostate.

  At last the growling male withdrew just far enough for him to catch a gasping breath and then forced in the entire length, nearly piercing Hastion’s cheek with his spur while he fucked his throat in short, sharp strokes. Any illusion of control Hastion might have had dissipated like so much smoke in the wind.

  Helpless and adrift on a sea of burning need, he closed his eyes and let go.

  The primer on Garathan didn’t keep Shelley’s restless mind occupied, and she kept glancing at her watch, wondering if Hastion was back yet. How could she possibly sleep on her first night on Garathan?

  Unable to stand being cooped up, she finally pulled on her robe, checked on the twins and then headed for the dining room. The minister had said she’d be able to see both moons before midnight, and the deck had a number of padded chaises she could lounge around on and stargaze for a while. She hadn’t noticed any mosquitos nibbling on her earlier. Hopefully that meant there weren’t any to worry about.

  The deck doors were still wide open, and when she stepped outside, several hovering lanterns were still lit. She touched the three closest to her to extinguish them, as the minister had shown her earlier, and then settled
onto one of the chaises to stare up at the sky, the sounds of the surf whispering in her ears. Sure enough, one small white crescent was almost directly overhead, while a larger half moon with a distinctly blue cast hung low on the horizon. If it weren’t for that blue moon—and the fact that she was alone—she could almost believe she was in Hawaii, taking that honeymoon she’d never had. The night scents wafting on the breeze were absolutely mouthwatering. Was it the tropical flora, or was someone baking in preparation for tomorrow’s breakfast, or both?

  Whatever it was, she wanted more of it. She lay there soaking it up in deep breaths as she watched the stars flicker. Was Sol visible from here? She’d have to remember to ask Hastion or the minister tomorrow.

  Suddenly the indistinct rumble of Minister Cecine’s voice drifted in with the breeze.

  Speak of the devil. Shelley looked around, but didn’t see anyone so she got up to look down on the beach. As soon as she stood, she gasped and dropped back onto the chaise, her hand over her racing heart. Surely she hadn’t just seen Hastion on his knees in the sand, giving the minister a blow job. She couldn’t possibly be that lucky. Could she?

  There was only one way to find out.

  She scooted her butt as quietly as she could over onto the next chaise, and then to the one by the rail, and then—

  Oh sweet Jesus. The view was absolutely breathtaking. They’d obviously been going at it for a while. Cecine was nude, his long, straight legs braced apart, and he was using both hands on Hastion’s head, fucking his mouth while Hastion hung on for dear life.

  It occurred to her that she really should give them their privacy. But why should she? They were the ones who’d decided to do it on the beach, and she knew for a fact that Hastion got a thrill out of being watched. If the minister didn’t…well, he knew where his bedroom was, right?

  Mesmerized by his mouth-fucking technique, she slid a hand under her robe and into her panties just to tease herself. No coming—she didn’t trust herself not to scream anymore.

  After a few more minutes, Hastion reached between the minister’s legs and Shelley held her breath in anticipation. The minister seemed to lose it then—he shouted, thrusting far back into Hastion’s throat, obviously coming with epic force while poor Hastion gagged and choked and writhed in his hold. Just when Shelley was getting worried enough to consider charging to his rescue again, the minister released him and Hastion lurched to the side, sprawling on his hands and knees in the gentle surf, his whole body visibly racked with spasms.