Clan and Conviction (Clan Beginnings)

by Tracy St. John

  Oh well, it wasn’t Gelan’s problem. He had enough to worry about with a certain Nobek to contend with this evening.

  “My place tonight?” he asked, grinning wickedly.

  Wynhod snorted. “Do you think your belongings can handle it?”

  “I believe we could make things a bit more interesting. Let’s make a deal: if you break any of my stuff or do something that has me break it, you immediately forfeit dominance.”

  The Nobek’s glare narrowed. “Oh really? So if we break something, you expect me to put my ass up in the air, spread my legs, and let you take top position? Just like that?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And what’s to keep you from pretending that I made you destroy something?”

  “Do you really think you’re worth shattering my expensive shit?” Gelan pretended insult.

  Wynhod smirked. “I know I am. Even you’ll admit there isn’t a better ass on Kalquor.”

  Gelan had to laugh at the Nobek’s grinning lack of modesty. “You got me there. Oh well, if you can’t handle me or yourself—”

  Wynhod bared his teeth at the challenge. “You asshole. Not only will I take that bet, but I promise it will be you on the bottom all night. You need to be taken down a peg or two. I’m just the man to do it.”

  Gelan picked up his glass again. “Promises, promises.”

  It was going to be a good night, no matter who won their contest. Gelan had no real preference as to whether he ended up on the top or bottom. The fighting was fun for its own sake. If Wynhod ended up mastering him, that would be every bit as delightful as the other way around.

  But the Nobek would have to earn the right first.

  * * * *

  An hour later, Gelan let them into his quarters. Wynhod had a look around the spacious greeting room with a suitably impressed look. Two circular seating areas sat in opposite corners. They boasted matching tables purchased from Joshada with billowing seating cushions surrounding them. A lounger, also circular, sat in the middle of the room with a small indoor firepit at its center. Another corner held a large bar and the last featured a betting table with seating for six, its aged patina lending grandeur. Gelan had hosted many a successful party for his co-workers in this room.

  Wynhod grinned knowingly. “My, my. Still high-end tastes, my friend. Are you sure you haven’t put yourself back in debt?”

  Gelan scowled at the Nobek’s lack of faith. “Not one penny of it. I learned to save for what I want. You ruined me for buying on credit.”

  Wynhod stepped farther into the room, his eyes taking in Gelan’s collection of antique hunting spears, hung artfully on one wall. “Big place,” he mused. “Enough for a full clan you said?”

  Gelan’s heart thumped hard. No way Wynhod hinted at anything, not yet. Keeping his voice even with effort, he replied, “I am a Dramok. I have to plan for these things.”

  Wynhod turned to him. He came close, close enough to touch. His evaluating gaze fell on Gelan’s lips, as if contemplating a kiss. His hand slid around the back of the Dramok’s neck, as if to hold him in place for that kiss. Gelan’s lips parted in anticipation.

  Instead of kissing him, the Nobek said, “And no one in particular has become a part of those clanning plans, hmm?”

  Gelan couldn’t keep from touching the other man. His hands ran over the solid, wide chest in front of him. “Interested?”

  Wynhod’s eyes lifted, looking into Gelan’s. The enforcer’s body went very still, and Gelan winced.

  “Too soon. Sorry.” He pulled his hands away, thinking himself a hundred times a fool.

  Wynhod’s grip on the back of his neck tightened, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a slow grin. “Don’t be. But let’s give it a little more time before I move my things in. Just for appearances. Say … a couple of weeks?”

  He stepped even closer, so that their chests touched. Gelan felt the warmth of the other man’s breath on his face, felt the hard thickness of Wynhod’s arousal against his lower belly. The Nobek tilted his head to one side and delivered a toe-curling kiss that raised every hair on Gelan’s body. Gelan moaned as the other’s warm tongue stroked his.

  As enticing as those sensations were, along with that of the Nobek’s fingers stroking up and down his spine, his mind reeled from Wynhod’s words.

  As soon as the Nobek broke the kiss, Gelan grabbed his partner’s waist. “You’re sure?” he whispered, hardly daring to hope. He searched his lover’s eyes for the slightest note of doubt.

  Wynhod chuckled. “Two weeks will allow plenty of time for our parents to scream and kick. Then we’ll remind them you’re now old enough to clan whoever you want without permission. It shouldn’t take too long for them to give up on trying to talk sense into us.”

  Gelan laughed. “Maybe my mother will even forgive us in time to show up at the clanning ceremony.”

  Wynhod’s deep chuckles joined his. “I’ve missed her. Does she still bake that chafga casserole with the wedi herbed sauce?”

  “Of course. In fact—”

  Wynhod’s sudden blur of movement cut Gelan off. The Dramok heard the snap of the hovercuffs on his wrists before he felt them. He had just enough time to think, oh fuck, before Wynhod stepped back with a triumphant sneer on his handsome face.

  “Pin arms at lower back,” the Nobek ordered the cuffs.

  Gelan’s arms obediently snapped behind him. He stared nonplussed at the other man.

  Wynhod’s grin was a brilliant beacon in the dimly lit room. “How about that, Gelan? Not one thing broken in the house.”

  Gelan’s fighting instincts rose. Wynhod hadn’t allowed him an equal fight at all. Instead, the Nobek had launched a sneak attack, undermining him before he could have a decent chance.

  He growled, low and threatening, his fangs descending in a fiery instant of fury. He lashed out a foot, kicking high and hard. Had he landed the blow, it might have gone right through Wynhod’s chest. However, Wynhod caught his ankle, using it to yank Gelan towards him. The Dramok fell against the other man’s body. Wynhod wrapped his arms around Gelan, lifted him into the air, and slammed him to the thickly carpeted floor.

  The Nobek had cradled the back of Gelan’s head in one palm at the last second, preventing him from cracking his skull. However, the force of crashing flat on his back with Wynhod’s weight on top drove all the air out of his lungs. His mouth gaped wide as he tried to remember how to breathe.

  Grinning around his fangs, Wynhod’s face darted down. He burrowed against the side of Gelan’s neck. An instant later, the Dramok felt the telltale double sting of his conqueror’s bite.

  Infuriated by how easily he’d been taken down, Gelan shrieked, “You cheating shit! You fight like an Imdiko!”

  Wynhod didn’t answer. He was too busy chomping on Gelan’s throat. The Dramok kicked and struggled, fighting to get free before the Nobek’s venom took him over. In response, Wynhod grabbed a handful of Gelan’s braids and yanked his head painfully to one side, biting deeper with not just fangs but blunter teeth. His legs wrapped around Gelan’s, stilling his frantic kicks, rendering him absolutely powerless.

  The first tendrils of mind-stealing euphoria curled in lazy wisps through the Dramok’s mind and body. He screamed his defiance to it, though he knew he would sink deeper and deeper into submissive pleasure and an almost compulsive urge for approval. There was nothing he could do about it but lie helplessly beneath Wynhod and feel his will to dominate seep away.

  The Nobek’s erection swelled against his groin, growing thicker and harder as Gelan’s struggles waned. No doubt Wynhod was excited knowing he’d won this round, that he would be on top of Gelan, inside Gelan soon. That Gelan would give him anything he wished, unable to deny the Nobek anything.

  The Dramok’s alpha mindset already drifted into wispiness as his body grew more and more interested in the man lying on top of him. The fangs in his neck withdrew, though he barely felt them. Wynhod’s mouth remained attached to his neck, suckling at the bl
ood that no doubt seeped from the small wounds he’d dealt. Feeding on him. Mastering him. Owning him.

  Seconds passed. Gelan lay lax in the other man’s grip. He didn’t know when he’d stopped trying to escape. It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing mattered but Wynhod. Had he really accepted Gelan’s half-assed offer to clan?

  Wynhod finally released his neck. He leaned up and looked Gelan in the face. Whatever he saw there made him smile.

  “Fight like an Imdiko, eh? Well, in the end it doesn’t matter how I fight. What matters is that I win.” His lips lit on Gelan’s in the lightest of kisses. “Don’t worry, my Dramok, you’ll enjoy serving me if I have to bite you twenty times tonight.”

  My Dramok. They were clanned then, or at least agreeing to do so in the very near future. Wynhod’s acknowledgment brought a wisp of a smile to Gelan’s lips. However, the still-domineering part of his nature made one last attempt at thwarting being the bottom to Wynhod’s top. “You sneaky bastard. Did we break anything?”

  “Didn’t even tip anything over, except for you. You are mine tonight, Gelan. All mine, all night.”

  Wynhod stood, picking up Gelan so that the Dramok stood on wobbly legs. With an evil chuckle, the enforcer bent over, setting Gelan over his shoulder. Wynhod stood up straight again, hefting with little seeming effort. His palm cracked smartly against Gelan’s ass several times, sending bursts of sharp heat into his flesh. Gelan groaned. The warmth of the strikes pulsed deep inside, making his cocks fill and swell against the muscular shoulder beneath them.

  “Nice,” Wynhod said. “I think spanking your bare ass like a child’s will be the first bit of mastery you’ll accept from me tonight.” He headed towards the door that led to the rest of the home. “Let’s see how long it takes me to find the sleeping room.”

  Damn it, Gelan’s ass already smarted from just the little bit of humiliation Wynhod had dealt already. Not to mention his pride. He knew he was in for it. The Nobek had a taste for making other men crawl when he had the opportunity. The biggest problem was how much Gelan looked forward to being Wynhod’s toy.

  Chapter 10

  It didn’t take Wynhod long to find the sleeping room, though it was the last room in the housing unit. Wynhod didn’t even bother stopping at the guest suite. “No, this isn’t it,” he sniffed dismissively, continuing on. “That room doesn’t carry enough of your scent for you to have spent much time in it. Not to mention, you’ve got nothing personal in there.”

  When he did reach Gelan’s sleeping room, Wynhod chuckled. “You really are ready to clan. Look at the size of this mat.”

  The sleeping mat sat square in the middle of the room, still rumpled from two nights ago when Gelan had last slept in it. The soft cushion of the bed rose to mid-thigh height and stretched to within five feet of the walls. The walls themselves illuminated at their entrance, set for about 25 percent power. They hid a number of drawers, bins, and closet spaces, only a quarter of which Gelan used.

  The bed faced two archways that led out to the balcony off the room. A breeze blew in through the unshielded openings. The night had cooled things off nicely, taking out that breathless heat that summer had brought to the mountains. Gelan was in no position to see anything but the delicious topography of Wynhod’s lower back, ass, and thighs. Yet he knew full well that the arches would currently present a view of the purple and white marker lights of not-too distant shuttle traffic. The room was lit just well enough that travelers with their vids on and sharp eyesight might see him tossed like a sack over Wynhod’s shoulder. It was a humiliating position to be in.

  “Arch shields, opaque,” he called.

  Wynhod tossed him face down on the sleeping mat. “Cuffs, pin subject to horizontal surface.”

  Gelan’s arms immediately left the small of his back to slam down on the bed. He raised his face from the mat to glare at the other man.

  Wynhod continued to give orders. “Arch shields off.”

  Gelan gasped and shot the Nobek a look. “Fine. I don’t mind the air. Lights off.”

  “Lights on, resume previous level of illumination.” Wynhod bent down and paddled the Dramok’s vulnerable ass with a series of quick slaps. Gelan’s butt came to burning life, and he shouted and kicked.

  Wynhod grinned down at him. “Why deprive any curious eyes of how much fun I’m having? Leave it, Dramok. I’d like for others to see you servicing my needs.”

  “Bastard,” Gelan breathed, but he couldn’t disobey. Not with the poison of Wynhod’s intoxicant flowing through his head, making defiance impossible. He lay on the bed, trembling with mingled anger and arousal.

  Wynhod yanked Gelan’s boots and uniform off in short order, not bothering to be delicate in the least about it. He then sat next to the Dramok. His hands rubbed all over Gelan’s still stinging ass, making him groan and writhe in equal parts delight and torment. His cocks were swollen beneath his belly.

  “Humiliation play. Still your least favorite, I presume?” the Nobek mused.

  Gelan snarled. “I will get you for this.”

  “I’m sure you will. But for now, you belong to me. All you want is for me to be pleased with you. Isn’t that right?”

  Gelan wanted to say anything but yes, but he choked on the choice curse words that popped into his head. He did want Wynhod satisfied, more than anything else. Damned intoxicating venom.

  Wynhod chuckle was pure evil. “As I said, I think you need some discipline, the kind that is fit for a child and therefore extremely demeaning to a strong Dramok like yourself. We’ll get to the real stuff later, the punishment you truly deserve, but for now, you will lie absolutely still for your spanking.”

  Spanking? Oh no, no way Gelan would allow that. Yet his body lay slack and quiescent on the bed, the words lie absolutely still burning inside his skull as if someone had branded them there. Even stronger than his absolute need to get up and fight this embarrassment was the overriding necessity of obeying the man who had captured him.

  Chortling with delight as if he could hear every thought in Gelan’s head, Wynhod sat up and looked over the Dramok’s vulnerable rump. “I’m going to get this nice and red, and then we’re going to play for real. Ready?”

  “You will get this back twice over, you sadistic Nobek.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Wynhod’s hand flashed overhead. Gelan winced, unable to look away as it hung there, as if waiting for some sort of cue. A loud crack sounded in the room.

  Gelan’s eyes widened. The Nobek had moved so fast, he’d never seen his hand move. It seemed to have remained suspended over his ass.

  Fire exploded across Gelan’s left butt cheek. He sucked in air between his teeth so hard it whistled.

  “You’re wearing my handprint, my friend,” Wynhod smirked. “Now for the other one.”

  This time, Gelan saw a suggestion of movement. Then came the earsplitting sound of contact once more. His other cheek blazed to agonized life.

  He ground his teeth together, refusing to let out the demeaning yelp that wanted to escape. It was bad enough Wynhod smacked his ass like a naughty young whelp. The Dramok wasn’t about to wail like a child.

  “Pretty,” Wynhod commented, looking at his handiwork with pride. “Too bad I can’t leave you like this. No, the whole ass needs to be worn out properly.”

  With that, his hand flew up and down, slapping Gelan’s butt with quick, fierce blows. All the Dramok could do was lie absolutely still and take it. Wynhod’s earlier command kept him loose-limbed on the bed, accepting discipline like he deserved it.

  He did not like being humiliated with such juvenile punishment. He hated that there might be someone out there flying past in a shuttle seeing him, a full-grown Dramok, taking a bare-handed spanking. But some little quirk in his personality, the part that liked giving in to someone who had bested him in a fight … or in this case, wits … that part liked being made helpless. It liked giving himself over to Wynhod’s not-so-tender mercies. A lot.

&nb
sp; Even as Wynhod administered fiery pain to his ass, the pit of Gelan’s gut roiled with excitement. His cocks were swollen to aching, eager to be touched by the firm hand presently raining agony on his flesh. He lubricated freely, making the linens beneath him wet with spicy-scented musk.

  Only once his entire ass thudded with heat did Wynhod let up. Gelan realized he’d been biting his lips closed to keep in the moans that rose in his throat. His butt and cocks throbbed in tandem with his pulse. Damn it, he needed to come, and soon. He had the ugly idea his lover might not allow it until he begged for it. More humiliation. Not because Wynhod particularly liked embarrassing Gelan; the Nobek simply enjoyed displaying power when he claimed it.

  “You have turned the most precious shade of pink,” Wynhod told him.

  “Did you wear your tender hand out, sweetheart?” Gelan sneered. He knew he asked for trouble, but he would not let the Nobek think he had cowed him in any way, shape, or form.

  “Not at all. I just didn’t want you to cry before I got to the good stuff.”

  “I never cry.” It was true. No matter what happened, whether it was physical or emotional pain, Gelan remained as dry-eyed as a Nobek.

  “Is that so?” Wynhod smiled and swept a hand over Gelan’s aching rear. “Tell me, when was the last time tails or leather kissed this perfect ass?”

  Ignoring the shiver that ran down his spine, Gelan asked offhandedly, “Oh? You brought your tools?”

  “I didn’t need to because I know how you are. Location, Gelan.”

  “Shit.” The problem with reconnecting with old flames was how well they remembered you. “On the wall behind you.”

  Wynhod stood and moved away. Still under the command to remain motionless, Gelan couldn’t see him. However, he could hear the telltale slide of the drawer Wynhod triggered. A soft sigh let Gelan know how pleased the Nobek was with what he saw.