“Agreed.” He wasn’t conceding anything he hadn’t already lost, and if he were ever to have Hastion again, he’d have him fully, without reservation, or not at all. “Tysan, we require privacy.”
“I’ll be in the main lab until you summon me, sir. What about Dr. Teague?”
Cecine twitched. She was so quiet he’d forgotten she was asleep on the bunk behind him.
When he got up and touched her shoulder, Monica immediately rolled over. “What? Is Shelley okay?”
“We require privacy for at least an hour.”
She stiffened. “I told her I wouldn’t leave.”
“You don’t have to leave the ship. Just this lab.”
“Why?”
Cecine raised a brow at her. “In order to increase our pheromone emissions to ease Shelley’s pain, I’m going to perpetrate acts of a sexual nature on my second.”
“Oh.” She grimaced. “In that case, I guess I’ll go hang out with Tysan.”
“He’s next door in the lab.”
She left them alone without another word.
“Am I imagining things or did you just say you’re going to perform sexual acts on Hastion?” Shelley asked, shifting with obvious care to face him again. Though her eyes were ringed with dark circles, they’d brightened with interest.
Pleased with her response, he smiled. “I did, indeed. Stand up, Ensign.”
Hastion stiffened and then rose slowly, working to control his trembling. What did the minister hope to accomplish with this exercise?
It didn’t matter, he told himself sternly. It would ease Shelley’s pain and free him from impersonal sexual service to Cecine—that was all he cared about.
The minister leaned back in his chair, giving every indication of being relaxed, although his eyes were piercing. “Disrobe.”
Everything in Hastion rebelled. He looked at the window and found the observation room empty. Then he looked at Cecine again, clenching his aching hand. If the minister was set on forcing him, the game might just as well begin now.
Cecine laid his hands on the arms of his chair and stood slowly, never taking his eyes off Hastion’s. “I believe I just told you to disrobe, Ensign.”
Fear and arousal pulsed through Hastion in one intoxicating blast, but he held still.
Cecine stepped forward and tipped his head until they were nose to nose. “Is this how you intend to continue?” When Hastion didn’t answer, he said, “Empran, rigid restraints for Ensign Hastion.”
“Affirmative.”
Hastion’s heart rate doubled as his body froze in place. Oh Peserin, he was completely helpless now.
Cecine smiled, a rather nasty smile at that, and reached up to slowly open Hastion’s uniform. Hastion swallowed hard as the zzzzzip of the tab sliding down went on and on. When it reached the end of the line, Cecine’s hand pushed forward into Hastion’s scrotum, pressing the hard tab deep enough into his flesh to make him flinch involuntarily. Then he peeled Hastion’s uniform down his arms and let it fall around his legs.
Standing back, Cecine surveyed him with a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. “I do believe being restrained agrees with you, Ensign.”
Heat surged into Hastion’s face. Being restrained more than agreed with him—it excited him beyond reason. His cock was already bobbing in front of him, heavy with need. He felt as though he walked the very edge of a cliff and the smallest puff of wind could send him plummeting into nakedness that went much deeper than mere physical nudity. His stomach curdled with fear at the thought of having all his protective barriers stripped away and the minister seeing him for what he truly was.
Peculiar. Undesirable. Inconsequential.
But even more frightening was the fact that he craved that exposure. He was tired of fighting to keep himself hidden, tired of being afraid. How could he fight himself and the minister at the same time?
Cecine leaned down and wrapped his arms under Hastion’s buttocks. “Empran, full neural restraints for the ensign, but you may release them at his command.”
“Affirmative.”
Hastion collapsed over Cecine’s shoulder with a gasp. Carrying him to the empty bunk next to Shelley’s, Cecine dumped him on his back and pulled off his boots and uniform, leaving him completely nude.
Hastion closed his eyes. Oh Peserin…
When he found the courage to open them again, the anticipation on the minister’s face took his breath away. With his head sagging off to the side, he could see Shelley watching them, her eyes dark with with arousal. She was still curled on her side but, thankfully, her limbs had relaxed and she was no longer writhing in pain—he and Cecine must both be emitting copious amounts of pheromone already.
“You’re even more beautiful than your sister,” Cecine murmured, running a hand lightly over Hastion’s chest.
Hastion allowed his vision to blur, tightening his jaw to hold back the volcano of emotion threatening to erupt from him. Trust the minister to zero in on his vulnerabilities.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
Hastion said nothing.
Cecine leaned down until they were nose to nose again and his hair brushed against Hastion’s lips. “I couldn’t attend your demonstration of the probe but I had Empran record it so I could view it later,” he said without backing away even a millimeter. “It was easily the most arousing thing I’d ever seen.”
Heat swept up Hastion’s neck once more. The minister had seen him? Peserin’s hell, it hadn’t even occurred to him that Empran might have recorded his masturbatory antics in front of the warriors. Why in the name of all the Powers did the knowledge make his cock throb and his stones tighten like they were about to give up their seed?
“I viewed it over and over, sometimes using the probe myself as I did. You were so very brash, smiling as if you knew every male in the room would fuck you, given half a chance.”
If he could have moved, Hastion would have squirmed. In fact, that was exactly what he’d told himself to bolster his courage as he stood there in front of them. The idea had thrilled him, especially when Shauss struck up a provocative, private cerecom dialogue. Though Hastion had given the expected responses, he’d known all too well that if Shauss ever ordered him to bend over for an ass-fucking and meant it, he wouldn’t hesitate to obey. Imagining that very scenario had aroused him enough to shoot his semen across the dais.
“Make no mistake, Ensign, most of them would fuck you,” Cecine said. “That’s what frightens them. Threatens them. That’s why they challenge you. It frightens me too,” he added almost inaudibly, “but I’m self-aware enough to know the weakness lies in me rather than you.”
He leaned down and captured Hastion’s open mouth with his but pulled away before Hastion could respond. “And now I’m going to indulge my weakness.”
His heart thrumming heavily, Cecine ran his eyes over the peaks and valleys of his second’s relaxed torso, disappointed by the lack of visible straining against his restraints. That wouldn’t do. He refused to expose himself this way for anything less than full exposure of the ensign.
“Cecine to Shauss.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I want wrist and ankle restraints for my second. Have you any suggestions as to where I might acquire them?”
“I’ll flare them to you momentarily, sir.”
“Thank you, that would be much appreciated.”
While he waited, Cecine let his palms slide over the warm flesh his eyes had just surveyed and noted with pleasure the catch in the ensign’s breathing. He bore only the faintest evidence of marking from the night before. Was his skin that tough or had he asked Tysan to erase the evidence?
“Restraints are on their way, sir, along with a few other items you may or may not find useful,” Shauss informed him.
A flare bubble appeared over the counter and dissolved, depositing a pile of leather, metal and rope.
“Received. I am in your debt.”
“Let me know if I can be of further servic
e, sir.”
When Cecine dug through the pile, he found the requested wrist and ankle restraints, which were made of unyielding black leather, as well as varying lengths of soft rope, two metal hooks, an eye mask, and an item he recognized as a ball gag. Since his object was to see and hear his ensign, he set aside the eye mask and gag, then carried everything else to the bed and dropped it onto the mattress beside Hastion’s legs. He smiled when the ensign twitched involuntarily at the sound.
When Cecine unbuckled one of the restraints and slid it over an ankle, Hastion finally spoke. “Sir?”
“The neural restraints curtail your movements more than I like.”
Cecine fastened both cuffs and then stood back, contemplating how to proceed. He leaned over the head of the bunk, enjoying the darkening of Hastion’s eyes and the way his breathing quickened.
Reaching underneath the bunk, he was pleased to feel a sturdy metal handle. He buckled the other set of cuffs onto the ensign’s wrists, clipped them together and looped the doubled rope around both the clip and the handle, tying it off underneath. The ensign still had plenty of room to move his elbows back and forth but he couldn’t cover himself or escape.
By the time Cecine completed that task, he had a plan for restraining the ensign’s ankles that didn’t involve restricting access to his genitalia. He looped another length of rope through a ring on each of the ankle cuffs and tied the ends underneath, leaving his thighs spread widely.
“Empran, release Ensign Hastion’s neural restraints.”
“Restraints released.”
Immediately Hastion tested the restraints, jerking his arms and trying unsuccessfully to pull his legs up and close them.
Consumed by excitement and unwilling to deny himself any further, Cecine climbed up to kneel between the ensign’s knees, admiring the erection that had already begun to drip on his rigid belly.
“My only regret about this arrangement,” he murmured as he leaned over and planted his hands beside Hastion’s exposed armpits, “is that it hinders my ability to mark your ass. But I shall prevail.”
Hovering over the captive ensign, he immediately set about the most arousing work of marking that beautiful body, beginning at his earlobes. He caught one between his teeth and dug in, tracing and flicking that tender skin with his tongue the way he would a woman’s clitoris. After an initial shudder, the ensign bore it stoically, but as Cecine increased the pressure, sucking as he worked his jaw back and forth, Hastion’s respirations became labored. As the biting and sucking moved down his neck to his chest, he began to jerk and gasp. Venturing farther afield, Cecine tasted the sweet, vulnerable skin of his underarm with a nip that earned a grunt and a defensive twisting of the torso.
“The first time I took your ass,” he said, pausing to savor the scent of Hastion’s nervous perspiration as he licked the offended spot, “I burned with the unseemly desire to do this to you, to bite you all over and mark you.”
“Why didn’t you, sir?”
“Because it was unseemly,” he repeated patiently, “and even if you allowed it, I felt it would be an abuse of my power. Males of worth do not mark others as their own, nor do males of worth allow themselves to be marked.”
“Then why are you doing it now?” Hastion groaned as Cecine bit delicately at his nipple.
Cecine looked into his lash-veiled eyes. “Because Shauss convinced me last evening that this sort of interaction might not be as unseemly as I believed it.”
“What did he say?” Hastion asked with a guarded look.
“It was more what he and Tiber did, although his personal observations about you were…thought-provoking.”
Cecine nibbled at the other nipple and then sucked it until it was a deep red, drinking in the ensign’s gasps and twitches. Impatient to cover more territory, he opened his mouth wider and began to bite harder, grinding his teeth into Hastion’s flesh as he sucked, leaving mottled marks all over his pectoral muscles. The ensign hissed through his clenched teeth, and then his grunts deepened to growls, making Cecine’s brief-constricted cock ache.
“Are you going to tell me what they did?” Hastion finally ground out.
Cecine raised his head just enough to reply, “They put on a private demonstration for me. Shauss treated Tiber like a lowly pet and Tiber not only played along, but he enjoyed it.”
The ensign’s stomach was too flat and taut for Cecine to get any traction with his teeth, so he bit his way down the sides, leaving large, circular imprints with his wide-open mouth. Hastion flinched and growled as much from the tickling of Cecine’s hair trailing over him as he did the biting. A glance revealed that his cock was dripping in earnest now, and Cecine’s own cock reacted predictably, surging and producing fluid of its own.
“As part of the demonstration,” he said, sitting back on his haunches, “Tiber performed oral sex on Shauss. He said there was power in the act that I’d have to experience myself to understand. Did you feel power, Ensign, when you did that to me?”
The ensign blinked at him, breathing hard. “Yes, sir. Until you seized the power.”
Cecine smiled and then leaned over to trail his tongue up the underside of Hastion’s cock. “You won’t be seizing any power today.”
Hastion gasped. “If you say so, sir.”
As tempted as Cecine was to take that bursting staff into his mouth, there were other bits of his ensign that required marking first. Scooting his knees back to the end of the bunk, he sank his teeth into those slim, muscled thighs again and again, alternating back and forth between them, relishing the ensign’s grunts. When he bit his way up the tender inner skin, Hastion wrenched against the restraints, panting harshly as he arched his hips upward.
Then Cecine settled his forearms on the ensign’s thighs and hovered over his tightly drawn sac. The ensign ceased all movement, lying there with his face screwed up in an agony of fearful anticipation.
Cecine smiled and then closed his eyes as he nuzzled the tightly drawn sac, inhaling deeply to capture Hastion’s unique musky fragrance. Turning his head, he rubbed his cheeks and chin over the cool ridges of flesh, warming them with his own body heat until they relaxed. Then he opened his mouth on them, sucking delicately at first, swirling the sparse hair with his tongue and tugging at it with his lips. When he finally drew one of the orbs into his mouth and sucked in earnest, Hastion choked off a moan.
To punish him for his reticence, Cecine tightened his teeth gradually, grinding in a small circular motion until the ensign’s knees juddered against the edges of the mattress and low whimpers began to escape his throat. When Cecine released him, Hastion went lax, breathing raggedly. Allowing him only the barest respite, Cecine subjected his other testicle to the same treatment. Hastion writhed tightly on the bunk, muffling his increasingly loud cries with his clamped lips, his chest and belly heaving.
Finally he broke, tossing his head and arching his back as he shouted, “Please, sir! Please, please!”
Breathless with triumph, Cecine relented. He raised his head enough to pick a loose hair off his tongue and then nipped his way up the center of that sac. Once he reached the base of Hastion’s staff, he wasted no time in seizing it and sucking it deep into his mouth. His own cock was exquisitely, painfully hard, and he’d never enjoyed the sensation more.
Hastion’s legs began to shake, and seconds later, he roared as he gave up his seed in thick, musky spurts that Cecine swallowed without hesitation.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hastion’s world was a kaleidoscopic vortex of sensations that began and ended with Minister Cecine’s relentless mouth. The vortex buffeted him higher and higher, and when it finally peaked and dropped away beneath him, he soared on, no longer bound by the weight of everyday roles and expectations and disappointments. He was a creature of pleasure—vibrant, responsive and content, with no awareness beyond the strong, hot hands that continued to slide over his body as if they owned it.
Which they did at that moment, and he’d never fel
t more free.
He drifted on, basking in the wide-open space inside him. Only vaguely did he feel the tugging at his wrists and ankles, and then those hands were drawing his arms down, massaging them one at a time from his shoulders to his fingers, easing any discomfort caused by his restraints. Although he wasn’t physically in need of the care, he hummed his appreciation. This sort of attention he could easily become accustomed to…
If this weren’t their last sexual encounter.
He tensed, tempted for an instant to blurt out a retraction, to claim he hadn’t really meant it. But even adrift in a sea of contentment, he knew he had. He couldn’t go back to their original agreement, even having experienced this. Especially having experienced this. He realized that he needed more—more than physical satisfaction, more than calculated domination and passionately inflicted pain, delicious as it was. More than simple acceptance.
Love was what he needed, what he craved above all else. It would be too easy to let himself love the minister…and then hate him for not returning the sentiment.
And if the minister grew to love Shelley, jealousy might poison his relationship with her. That would be disastrous for all of them, and the twins too.
No, better to let Milnon see to the minister’s needs. With his selfless nature and unconditional submission, he was much less likely to grow dissatisfied and demand more.
Hastion sighed with regret. This encounter was an aberration, a moment out of time during which each of them could get what he wanted without obligation or fear of the consequences. Once it was finished, the only things connecting them would be Shelley and the twins.
The minister’s smoothing hands finally released his fingers, only to move to the backs of his thighs. Hastion’s heartbeat grew heavier as they skidded down his legs and pulled them up onto the bunk, leaving the outsides of his feet and cuffed ankles resting on the mattress and his knees splayed. The stretching of his inner-thigh muscles was delicious, and he let his knees hang as though weighted, stretching them further as he wantonly displayed the flesh stirring between his legs. If this was his last opportunity to submit to the minister, he would enjoy it to the fullest.
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