Clan and Conviction (Clan Beginnings)

by Tracy St. John

  “The venom is wearing off, I see,” Gelan said. He pushed deep inside and a sudden jolt of pleasure made Wynhod howl. Liquid fire roiled through his smaller cock and billowed towards the primary one, joining the already agonizing need.

  Gelan drew back and slammed back in, finding that sweet spot once more. Wynhod arched and yelled again. His hands sprang free of their grip on his own thighs. He grabbed hold of Gelan’s buttocks and wrapped his legs around his hips. He squeezed hard, making the Dramok grind against his prostate, bringing more tormenting delight.

  Gelan fell forward. He managed to keep his fist wrapped around Wynhod’s primary dick as he did so, catching himself with the other hand. Bracing himself against the floor next to the Nobek’s head, he pumped in and out of Wynhod’s ass, bringing shrieking pleasure with every stroke. Wynhod’s hold on him made the thrusts stronger, driving him animal crazy once more.

  Gelan’s face worked with need, showing he neared his end. Wynhod had a moment of lucidity, in which he saw how the strong body over his worked, the muscles undulating and writhing in a beautiful wanton dance. For an instant, the astounding sight stole his breath.

  The Dramok’s face abruptly softened and his eyes closed. The vicious clutch on Wynhod’s prick loosened just enough for him to pump it in and out of his fist. “Do it,” Gelan gasped.

  At last, molten elation drove through Wynhod’s cock. He shrieked as it seared its way up and out, thick cables of lust pouring from his body to splash against both men’s bellies and chests. Some distant part of the Nobek’s consciousness registered when Gelan jerked against him, adding his own cries of completion to the din.

  Pulses of rapture were still shuddering their way through Wynhod’s groin when he returned to his senses. He opened his eyes to see Gelan’s face above his. The Dramok’s face went slack with rapture, his eyes still closed.

  Wynhod reached up and grabbed the back of his lover’s head, pulling him down. He gave Gelan a bruising, biting kiss, which the Dramok returned in kind. Wynhod clutched the other man’s body close, remembering how it had moved with savage grace over his. How stunning and gorgeous Gelan had been.

  Wynhod didn’t kid himself that he had just fallen in love with the Dramok. He was suddenly sure he had never stopped loving him, even after their separation.

  The brutal kisses and embraces eased and grew gentler as the last of their immediate lust was spent. Finally Gelan lay quiet on top of Wynhod, his cheek resting on the Nobek’s shoulder as they gazed into each other’s faces.

  Wynhod didn’t know how much time had passed when the Dramok said, “Well, that was fun.”

  Wynhod grinned at him. His dicks were just beginning to stir again, and he intended his primary one to find a tight, warm place to nestle in this time. “So it was. Want to see my sleeping room now?”

  Gelan laughed, but his eyes had that wanton glint to them again. He was ready to go again as well, as his next statement proved. “Do you have stim tabs to get us through tomorrow, or will we have to stop on the way to work?”

  Wynhod kissed his swollen lips. “I have enough to get us moving. Pain inhibitors too.”

  Gelan snorted. “I like pain, myself.”

  Wynhod nodded. Gelan always had been as much on the masochistic side as he was. As many Nobeks were, in fact. He’d wondered about that side of his lover in the early days, and old concerns flared anew.

  Earlier, when Wynhod had held the dominant position for a little while, Gelan had been violently aroused. It wasn’t usual for the Dramok breed to appreciate being forced into surrender; most despised it with all their beings. That also re-ignited an old suspicion that Wynhod had entertained seven years ago. He’d wondered then if Gelan might actually be a mis-categorized Nobek. Such things happened from time to time.

  If that was the case and Gelan’s breed designation was challenged and changed, Wynhod would never be able to clan with him. The thought made his stomach clench.

  I belong with this man, no matter what his breed might be. It’s not enough to be his friend and lover, either. I want to be his lifemate. I want to be recognized as part of his clan.

  For possibly the first time all day, Gelan’s thoughts weren’t the same as Wynhod’s. His tone playfully musing, he asked, “How many rooms in this place?”

  Wynhod let worry slide away. He chuckled. “Shall we christen each and every one?”

  “Well, not if you’re too tired, old man. You’re what, five years my senior? Getting a little worn out?”

  “I’m four years older, and I’ll be pushing your hover chair in the end.” Wynhod cracked his palm against Gelan’s ass hard a few times in reproach.

  Gelan hissed at the discipline and showed his fangs, but he didn’t greet Wynhod’s punishment with much of a dominance display. Not only that, Wynhod felt his lover’s cocks jerk in response to the painful blows. Even if Gelan really was a Dramok, he had strong Nobek tendencies.

  Wynhod pushed away all worries at what the future might hold. Instead, he concentrated on the present as he got up and chased Gelan into the next room, determined to be on top this time. It was going to be a long night, but still not nearly long enough to enjoy this man.

  Chapter 6

  Gelan and Wynhod arrived at the hospital early the next morning. They were allowed in to interview Hurs two hours later with Dr. Nameq warning them that the Delir-addicted Nobek faded in and out of lucidity.

  Gelan reasoned he could always interview Hurs again later to tidy up any fuzzy details. He was eager for something to go on right away.

  Gelan stood next to the man’s medi-bed with Wynhod on the other side. The Dramok mused how different Hurs looked from the raving creature he’d confronted the day before, though the Nobek continued to descend into bouts of rage from time to time. The ravages of Delir addiction were still apparent with the gauntness of the man’s face. The premature aging made the younger man look at least fifteen years Gelan’s senior.

  Right now, Hurs’ sunken eyes stared uncertainly from his skull-like visage. The man’s gaze turned hazy so often that the Dramok wondered if he’d get anything of use after all. Slowly the Nobek’s demeanor began to sharpen once more, making him look sane. Sane and grief-stricken with repentance as he again returned to his senses.

  Humming machines fed medication and nutrition into Hurs’ wasted frame through the medi-bed’s panels. The sound was a gentle counterpoint to the addict’s raspy breath. The computerized panels lay over his chest and abdomen, working to correct the damage done to the man’s body. They also emitted a local stasis field that immobilized Hurs from the neck down.

  Computer readouts tracked the Nobek’s vital signs and adjusted medication and fluids as needed. The patient’s room tried to be soothing with vid pictures of stunning mountain scenery and soft lighting, but it was too obviously a medical care facility to pull the calming effect off. Especially when Hurs was in the middle of a fit of contriteness, as he was at this moment.

  Gelan adjusted his small recording device, which captured the interview for later evidence analysis. “Nobek, I need you to concentrate on me.”

  Hurs stared up at the ceiling, his face wretched. “I was going to murder them. My own fathers! You should have killed me. I have no honor.”

  Gelan was careful to keep all accusation from his tone. “Think of your mother, Hurs. She begged for your life, as did your fathers. No one wants to see you dead.”

  It was a damned good thing Hurs was incapable of moving. At times like this, he became a danger to himself. When one of his bouts of maddened fury hit, he was a danger to others. Up and down, up and down. One second begging to be destroyed for all the wrongs he’d done, the next threatening to kill everyone in sight if they didn’t get him Delir, with intermittent moments of complete confusion.

  He stared up at Gelan, desperation creeping into his expression. “If I could just have a spray. Just one. I could figure this mess out with one last hit.”

  Hurs had been on the inhalable spray ver
sion of Delir. It wasn’t as extreme as plugging the shit straight into his veins, but he’d probably been within a day or two of taking it to that level.

  Wynhod’s snorted, glaring at Hurs as if he took the man’s addiction personally. “No one figures anything out on Delir, Nobek.”

  Hurs snarled, showing his fangs. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? You’re nothing without your gun, Enforcer. Just another savage member of our breed beating his chest.”

  Gelan shot Wynhod a warning glance and spoke in soothing tones. “Hurs. Look at me. Concentrate on making your mother proud.”

  The addict’s face contorted once more in a paroxysm of pain. “She can never be proud. Look at me. Look at what I did. She cries because of me.”

  “But you’re going to make up for it. You can still be the son she thinks you really are. Who sold you the Delir?”

  Hurs shook his head. “I’ve got no name for you. He never told me.”

  “What location did you get it from?”

  Hurs frowned as if thinking hurt him. “He’d show up on our living level, but you had to look out for him. There was never a set time or place where he’d be. But once a day, he’d come.”

  “Can you give me a description?”

  Hurs abruptly turned feral again. Gelan could see him straining to escape the field, trying to get free. Failing that, he settled for growling at the investigator. “Fuck you. You think I want his people coming after my parents? You’d better be watching out for my mother and fathers, asshole. You’d better not let them get hurt because you had to fucking put your nose in business that had nothing to do with you.”

  He seemed to forget he himself had been ready to kill his Imdiko father. Gelan knew better than to point that out.

  Instead, he told the still-growling Nobek, “Your parents are being kept safe. They are right here in this hospital, hoping to see you soon.”

  The pendulum of Hurs’ emotions swung to remorse again. He unleashed the wavering cry of a tormented soul. “No. No, you can’t let them see me like this. Not after what I did.”

  Gelan gave him an encouraging expression. “They’ll be so proud that you turned the corner and helped us stop other parents from being hurt. Tell me about the man who sold you the Delir.”

  Hurs slowly shook his head. “All I ever wanted to do was make them proud. The Delir, it was just supposed to be one time. I was curious, that’s all.”

  “That’s how it happens, Hurs. That’s how they trap so many good men like you. But you’re stronger than the rest. You’re going to beat it. Tell me about the man who sold it. The man who showed up on your level once a day, but you never knew exactly when or where. He was young?”

  “No, not really. But not old either. Maybe ten or fifteen years older than you? Taller, though.”

  “Dramok? Nobek?”

  “Nobek. Definitely a Nobek.”

  “Scars? Markings on his skin?”

  Hurs’ hard-thinking frown appeared again, driving deep lines in his face. “He had a jagged cut on his forehead, like he’d been smashed with a bottle. You know, the kind they keep really cheap kloq in, the ones that shatter so easy?”

  “I know.”

  “And yeah, a carving on the nape of his neck.”

  “Carving?”

  “A shape, deliberately cut into his skin and allowed to scar over. I saw it once when his ponytail shifted to the side.”

  Gelan kept his tone casual. “Let me guess. It looked like a knife?”

  Hurs nodded. “Yeah, exactly. But really badly done, like he’d gotten his kid brother to do it or something.”

  He abruptly started laughing for no reason at all. He was drifting away, but Gelan felt excitement anyway. The members of the gang suspected of dealing Delir all had the same symbol of a knife cut into the backs of their necks. Most of the time their long hair hid those identifiers from the public.

  Willing his hammering heart to quiet, Gelan attempted to get Hurs to focus again. “Did the man who sold you Delir usually wear his hair pulled back in a tail?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes not.”

  “How long was his hair?”

  “It came down between his shoulders. It was really snarled a lot of the time, like he couldn’t be bothered to brush it. He was hard, you know? Looked like he got into fights at least once a day. Mean eyes. I bet he’s killed men for no good reason.” Hurs started to get agitated and angry again. “That bastard goes after my parents, I’m coming for you. I will slit you open from your chin to your cocks, you fucking bastard. Do you hear me? I’ll fucking kill you! Kill you!”

  He shrieked now, spittle flying in thick streams. He wasn’t even trying to talk anymore, just screaming as he lost all sanity. A sensor on one of the computers went off, its high-pitched squalling joining the din and making Gelan wince.

  Dr. Nameq came in, pushing past Gelan to get to the medi-bed’s control panel. He typed rapid-fire commands into it. Moments later, Hurs’ eyes rolled and both his shrieking and the computer’s blare cut off. The Nobek lost consciousness.

  Nameq sighed and turned to Gelan. “We’ve gotten the drug out of his system, but his brain chemical composition is nowhere near normal. The Delir withdrawal is still in its early stages.”

  “And he may never be completely normalized again without the use of lifetime medication.” Gelan grimaced. Dr. Nameq had explained how devastating the aftereffects of Delir addiction were some months ago.

  The Imdiko nodded. “I’m going to have to ask you to come back later if you wish to question him further. It was probably too soon this time.”

  Gelan remembered to switch his recorder off. He offered Nameq a smile. “I am grateful for you allowing us to see him this early. We did get some good information.”

  Nameq nodded, his gaze drifting to Hurs’ ravaged face. The doctor’s expression turned sorrowful. “Good. I don’t see these cases too often since most of them end up in the morgue. Even one is too many, though.”

  “Agreed.” Gelan restrained the urge to pat the Imdiko’s shoulder. The man’s clanmates would not appreciate even an innocent commiserating touch from another Dramok. He settled for saying, “We’ll be back later, Doctor.”

  He left with Wynhod on his heels. Gelan felt good about the interview. Hurs hadn’t really given him much to go on, but it was more than he’d had before.

  * * * *

  Gelan and Wynhod were at their desks after lunch, looking through the thousands of men who matched the description of Hurs’ Delir dealer. It was tedious work. Nobeks were the most numerous breed of Kalquorians, and many of those who found trouble with the law were scarred in some fashion. Even the telltale carved knife that Hurs had seen on the back of the dealer’s neck didn’t narrow the field too much. Scarification art among gangs and everyday toughs was customary, and most of them loved knives and blades.

  Gelan sighed. He hated running suspect descriptions. It was insanely boring work.

  Hoping against hope for some relief, he told the computer, “Run a search of all security vids in Level Two, government housing, Sko Mountain Complex. Find likely matches of described suspect in the last six months.”

  As the computer did its search, Wynhod stood and stretched. “That’s the trouble with being on an investigative team. So much of the work is mind-numbingly boring.”

  His expression was surly. Nobeks were not meant to sit at desks.

  “No shit,” Gelan agreed, feeling miserable himself. He wished someone would come along and piss him off so he’d have a good reason to punch them. Except that would only result in more computer work as he filled out incident reports. Not worth the few seconds of fun.

  He settled for throwing his lunch’s container at Wynhod, who barely looked at it as he batted it away. It landed back on Gelan’s desk.

  Gelan told him, “That’s what you get for taking a promotion.” He kicked his desk. “You know what we need to do on our days off next week? We need to go hunting. Zibgers have been sighted in the Habi
Range.”

  Zibgers were wild felines, the apex predators of Kalquor. The massive beasts, as long as Kalquorian men were tall, usually stayed in the undeveloped areas of the mountains, far from human habitation. Once in a while, however, a population explosion would send a pride searching for new territory. That sometimes meant they started encroaching on the settled areas, putting people in danger. Licensed hunters were allowed to trap them and turn them over to wildlife officials for either relocation or population control.

  Wynhod seemed agreeable to the suggestion. “If I can do some climbing during the trip, you’re on.”

  “Not a problem. Do you mind open-air camping?”

  “As opposed to what?”

  The two men grinned at each other. They were still on the same page when it came to … well, it seemed like everything. Gelan couldn’t ignore his delight to be with Wynhod once more.

  Before he could pursue that thought, his regular work com went off. Gelan made a face at it. If it wasn’t an emergency, it was usually some procedural bullshit. Still, it couldn’t be any worse than searching through suspect descriptions. The computer already showed up to five hundred potential matches on Gelan’s vid request.

  Rolling his eyes, the Dramok answered his com. “Investigator Gelan.”

  The rough voice on the other end sounded a little breathless. “Enforcer Coj here, sir. We’ve just had an incident at the hospital guarding Nobek Hurs.”

  Gelan sprang to his feet, ready to run out of the office. He almost shouted, “Tell me he’s not dead.”

  “No sir, but the man who tried to get to him is. He attempted to shoot his way past us, and we had no choice but to kill him.”

  “Is anyone else hurt?”

  “No sir.”

  Gelan suddenly got a bad feeling. “Give me a description of the attacker, Enforcer Coj.”

  “Nobek, over average height, age is approximately mid-thirties, nasty scar on his forehead.”

  Wynhod breathed out one word. “Fuck.”