by Ivy Barrett
“Fair enough.” Kellan helped her turn over, and Zilrath slid her down until her head rested on Kellan’s lap and she lay flat on her back.
“Hold her arms. Don’t let her touch me until I tell you she can.”
Jasmine pouted, but she knew it would do no good. She’d never really thought of herself as submissive until she met these two males. A memory rushed through her mind, mocking the thought. She saw herself on her knees with Kellan’s cock down her throat. The surreal peace, the euphoric rush, online they called that subspace. There was no doubt she was submissive. She’d just never been with a lover strong enough to dominate her before.
Kellan drew her arms over her head and guided her hands to his hips. “Hold on to me. If you let go, I’ll punish your lovely breasts.”
She gasped and looked into his eyes. “You’d hit me there?”
“I didn’t say hit. There are lots of ways to ‘punish’ breasts, especially those sweet little nipples.”
Not at all sure she liked this development, she looked at Zilrath instead. He looked concerned but didn’t voice an objection. “Now we’re back at the start.” He focused on her as he directed. “Bend your knees and open your legs. In fact, drape them over Kellan’s.”
She bent her knees and slowly parted her thighs. Kellan caught the backs of her knees and helped move her feet to the outside of his legs. She was open wide, back slightly arched by the position of her arms. “Are you going to...” Now that she was facing him, she couldn’t make herself say the words.
“Fuck your ass?” One corner of Zilrath’s lips lifted in a predatory smile as he finished the question for her.
She nodded.
“Do you want me to?”
She pressed her teeth into her lip, gathering courage. Sexual exploration meant trying new things. “I’m curious, but I’m afraid it will hurt.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Kellan told her. “I say we indulge your curiosity.”
She laughed. “Of course you do. You’re not the one who’d get a cock up their ass.”
Kellan covered both breasts with his hands, squeezing gently. The pressure was oddly calming. It helped ground her in the moment. “You’re safe with us,” he told her. “Lose your inhibitions and let yourself soar.”
“That’s right,” Zilrath urged. “I’m going to drive my cock into that tight hole until you scream from the most intense pleasure you’ve ever experienced before.” His gaze narrowed and a dark smile parted his lips. “Kellan fucked your pussy first. Now it’s my turn to be your first.”
She shivered, no longer sure she wanted to do this. “Maybe we should...”
Kellan slipped his arms under her knees, then reached even lower and grasped her tender butt cheeks. She yelped, and his hold eased but didn’t let go. He opened her for Zilrath, offering her untried hole for the enjoyment of his podmate. “All of you, mate,” Kellan told her. “We will claim every part of you.”
Zilrath guided his cock to her puckered opening and Jasmine cried, “Don’t you need lube or something?”
“Trust, my love,” Zilrath said as he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and stroked, turning the entire length shiny. “The oil that drives you so crazy also works as a lubricant. I said I would not harm you, and I never will.”
She took a deep breath as she nodded. This was inevitable. She wanted them to fuck her together, had been fantasizing about it ever since she met them. Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for the discomfort.
Zilrath chuckled and brushed her lips with his. “Will you ever learn to trust me?”
She felt a sudden rush of heat as his mouth slid against hers. He caressed her breasts, painting her nipples with warm oil. Gradually her muscles relaxed, and her head began to spin. She relaxed against Kellan, going almost limp, yet her senses seemed to sharpen. The dichotomy was familiar now. She felt this way whenever Zilrath fucked her. She felt pressure, a millisecond of burn, and then blissful fullness as his well-oiled cock breached the stubborn ring of muscle guarding her back entrance.
She opened her eyes and stared into Zilrath’s amused gaze. “That’s it? You’re inside me?”
He grinned and pulled nearly out, to reveal how much of his cock had been inside her. “See. Nothing to fear.” He pushed in a little faster but pulled back just as slowly.
Sensations curled through her pussy and ass, passing along nerve endings and contracting muscles. They’d done this with their fingers and that wicked toy, but this was so much more intense. She watched Zilrath’s face, reveling in the pleasure tensing his features. His dominant nature was revealed with each sharp drive of his hips. This was the real Zilrath.
He smeared their lips with oil, then bent his head toward hers. Their lips slid against each other and the taste of oil spread through her mouth. The warmth in her body grew as did the surreal sensations.
“Suck my tongue,” he urged as he pushed into her mouth. She closed her lips around his tongue and sucked firmly as he pulled back.
“This is so fucking hot,” Kellan muttered, his hands gently squeezing her bottom cheeks.
Zilrath fucked her harder with his cock and tongue. She could sense his urgency growing and his control slipping. He finally released her mouth and concentrated on his cock. She started to tighten her bottom, to trigger his orgasm. But that’s not what he needed. It wasn’t what she needed either. Instead, she relaxed. She stared into his eyes and surrendered to his control.
His shaft slid in and out, the rhythm smooth, yet demanding. Apparently sensing the shift in her mood, he braced himself with one arm and pinched her nipples with the other hand. The mild sparks of pain made her gasp, but she remained passive, open and accepting of whatever he chose to give. Soon the sweet lethargy swept over her again. She floated, her only tie to reality the hard cock sliding in and out of her ass.
He slammed into her one final time, head thrown back as his cum splashed against her inner walls. His cock twitched, pulsing as he shot his seed deep inside her warm body. Jasmine’s orgasm was slow and gentle, washing over her like sun-warmed waves. Her inner muscles rippled, holding him tight, even pulling him deeper into her back channel.
Kellan slipped his arms out from under her legs and bent low so he could kiss her. “So beautiful,” he whispered as their mouths melded.
As soon as he released her, Zilrath was there kissing her just as deeply. “Are you alright?”
She smiled drowsily. “Too much oil. I’m really sleepy.”
Zilrath carefully separated their bodies, and Kellan picked her up so Zilrath could pull down the covers. Then Kellan placed her back on the bed, and Zilrath covered her with the bedding.
“Get some sleep,” Zilrath ordered.
The directive was unnecessary. She was already floating away.
* * *
Ram stared at the still image displayed on his cabin wall, wishing it were more detailed. When Moxtel arrived a few moments ago, Ram knew it was important. His first officer never would have bothered him in his private quarters otherwise. Ram seldom took time for himself, so these occasions were precious to him. Juggling all the warring factions inside the rebellion, while staying one step ahead of the Protectorate, was exhausting.
“Are you sure this is the correct female?” he asked as he looked more closely. “I don’t want another mix-up like the last one.” He glanced at Moxtel then grinned. “Though that ‘mistake’ seems to be working out well for you and Belton.” Moxtel had captured a blonde female, thinking she was the one featured in these images. When she turned out to be the wrong female, Moxtel and his cousin claimed her as their pleasure slave.
“She will require extensive training,” Moxtel returned Ram’s smile, “but that’s half the fun.”
Ram shifted his attention back to the elusive human they’d been tracking for the past two weeks. Her relentless pursuit of information regarding the Yashonty had brought her to their attention. At first, Ram dismissed her as an overzealous reporter, but he was starting to fear she
was something more dangerous. The image showed a pretty blonde in a mannish business suit, hair drawn sharply away from her face. She stood near a Ventori Defender. Their postures were tense, expressions subtle, hers determined, his deeply suspicious.
“It’s the same woman every time,” Moxtel insisted, conviction making his lavender eyes gleam. “And I’ve finally learned her identity. She didn’t give her name to Daentar, but I showed him the other images, and he confirmed that it was her.”
This was the fourth time this pesky human had approached one of Ram’s operatives. “What do we know about her?”
“Other than her tenacity?” Moxtel grumbled. “Not much. Her name is Celeste Mortenson, and she’s some sort of envoy.”
“An envoy for whom?”
“U.S. Department of Alien Affairs,” Moxtel told Ram.
Flicking away the first image, Ram triggered the next. This one was closer and clearer. Like many humans, Celeste’s skin was pale. Not actually white like Tavorian skin, but a very light shade of brown with a touch of gold. Her yellow hair gleamed in the sunlight, and her eyes were the strangest color he’d ever seen. They were deep yet vivid green, like midsummer leaves on the moons of E-dorrn. Humans fascinated him. They were such a contradiction, physically fragile, yet surprisingly spirited. “Then she is American?”
“I believe so. Daentar is our contact in Rome, but the other three interactions were in the U.S.”
“If she’s so damn determined to find us, perhaps we should allow her to succeed.” A wicked smile bowed his lips as he thought of all the things he’d like to do to her pale gold body. First and foremost, he’d strip away that hideous suit and free all that yellow hair. Then he’d secure her to his bed and show her what it meant to be owned by a Yashonty male.
“What did you have in mind?” Moxtel clasped his hands behind his back, obviously ready for action.
“I’m just thinking out loud, for now. At a minimum, we need to keep a closer eye on this ambitious envoy.”
“I agree. But if you’d like me to fetch her for you, just say the word.” After a short pause, Moxtel asked, “Have you heard from the gatekeeper yet? I would love to start planning an offense against the Skarilians. Annoying the Protectorate has become rather tiresome.”
“I haven’t heard from Vikrin, but I didn’t expect to. He has two more days to convince the other gatekeepers to cooperate. If he fails, we’ll start rounding them up. I’d rather have allies than captives, but I can work with either.”
“Understood.” Moxtel turned on the ball of his foot and headed for the door.
* * *
A faint tapping drew Kellan’s gaze toward the doorway of the home office he shared with Zilrath. Though Kellan left the door ajar, it now stood wide open, and Zilrath filled the threshold. They’d shared the evening meal with Jasmine, but a headache plagued her all day, so she went to bed shortly after. Wanting her to rest, Kellan had used the time to work his way through some of the reports and requests that backed up whenever he was off the Elizian.
Zilrath stepped inside the room, looking glum. “I’m out of time. Vikrin has given me excuse after excuse, but he’s not making sufficient headway with the gatekeepers. If we don’t intervene, this entire situation is going to fall apart.”
Kellan deactivated the schematic he’d been studying and gave his podmate his full attention. “What would you like to do?”
Hurrying across the small office, Zilrath lowered himself into one of the chairs arranged against the opposite wall from the desk where Kellan sat. “I think it’s time to involve the chancellor. Would you mind comming him to see if he can make time for us tonight? I hate to disturb him at home, but this can’t wait. I should have acted sooner, but Vikrin was insistent that he could bring the other gatekeepers to consensus before the deadline.”
Kellan smiled as he pushed back from the desk. “Relax. I can do one better. Bron’s on his way here. He just finished a marathon meeting with Galzar Ako and asked if he could swing by.”
Concern narrowed Zilrath’s gaze. “Is he visiting as your friend or as Chancellor Savator?”
The question made Kellan pause. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Bron wanted anything more important than to check in and see how their courtship with Jasmine was progressing. “Friend, I think. He didn’t really say.”
Zilrath pressed his lips tighter as he sank deeper into contemplation. The expression was so common Kellan could almost hear the debates raging inside his podmate’s mind.
“What was the reason for the chancellor’s meeting with Ako?” Zilrath sneered slightly when he said the name.
“I’m not sure. Why don’t you like Galzar Ako? I don’t know him well, but he seems solid.”
Zilrath shrugged, clearly attempting to minimize his reaction. “I have nothing against him personally. I just feel he’s ill-equipped to manage the challenges of Fort Benning.”
“He’s impressive in a battle, and he has successfully commanded several ships. How does a military base differ from a spaceship? The concerns are still mission objectives and the behavior of subordinates.”
A smile parted Zilrath’s lips, and a hint of condescension crept into his tone as he explained, “Fort Benning is no ordinary military base. It’s more like a small city. Diverse populations are vying for attention, each with their own agenda. Humans resent the Ventori and the Ventori have no patience for the Tavorians. Add to that the considerable pressure of protecting an ever-growing population of potential mates. It is taking longer and longer for the females to be transferred to Camp Accord.”
“And the Tavorians are blameless, as usual?” Kellan challenged.
“Far from it.” Zilrath scooted to the edge of his seat, growing more invested in the conversation. “My people have become so rigid and steeped in tradition that they will likely snap in two before they bend to the forces of change. But the harder they’re pushed, the more intransigent they become.”
The assessment was so brutally honest that Kellan merely nodded, then asked, “How should Galzar Ako resolve these issues?”
“I don’t believe he can.” Zilrath pushed to his feet with a sigh. “That was my point. Commander Ako is militant to the marrow of his bones. He’s used to commanding other Ventori Defenders. His autocratic methods are completely ineffective with devastated refugees and extremely resentful humans.”
“He’s a battle-hardened warrior. We all are,” Kellan objected as he stood. “I’m not sure anyone else would be any better. Only our battle-hardened warriors survived the destruction of Ventori.”
“It was an observation, not a criticism,” Zilrath insisted. When Kellan said nothing more, Zilrath continued, “May I ask a rather provoking question?”
Kellan chuckled. “You’ve never paused to ask permission before. This must be one hells of a question.”
Zilrath smiled, though his overall expression remained cautious. “How did the most ruthless military in this dimension survive such an important fight? I would have thought each and every one of your males would lay down their lives before the Skarilians could get anywhere near your loved ones.”
Kellan tensed. Zilrath was right; this question was extremely provoking. “They tricked us, preyed on our one weakness. Our arrogance.” He brushed past Zilrath and walked out into the hallway heading toward the front of the house. “We’d successfully driven them back over and over, but they kept returning.” He glanced back to make sure Zilrath was following him.
They reached the living room, and Kellan crossed to the sofa. Jasmine frequently curled up in the corner with her digi-sheet. He could easily picture her there reading a digital book or engrossed in a holographic game. Just knowing she was in his life helped soothe him, ease the grief and impotent rage that always accompanied thoughts of the Skarilians.
Feeling the weight of the memories, Kellan sat down. “During the final offensive, they allowed us to believe we were winning. It was a distraction, a maniacal deception.”
“How
did the ‘maniacal deception’ work?” Zilrath sat in one of the chairs facing the sofa, his expression carefully neutral.
“They gradually lured us farther and farther from Ventor. The battle was long and bloody. They sacrificed thousands of captive soldiers to make the ploy believable.” He took a deep breath and forced the final words out. “They kept us just out of range while a series of cataclysmic bombs decimated our planet. Their objective that day had not been conquest, but destruction. By the time we realized our mistake and fought our way back to Ventor, there was nothing left but a smoldering shell. Almost a billion people were slaughtered that day because we had dared to resist them.”
“Why did they let you live? You’re the only species who has even come close to defeating them.”
“We were humiliated, utterly beaten. Their strongest adversaries had been brought to their knees. They believed it was a stronger message, a better warning, to any world that would dare to oppose them.”
“I’m truly sorry, brother. I understand, at least in part, how that made you feel.”
“I know you do.” The silence stretched between them for a moment as Kellan packed away the past. It was right for podmates to know as much as possible about each other, but dwelling on past tragedies was counterproductive to future goals. Finally, Kellan asked, “Have you told Bron your concerns about Ako? I have no authority over the other commanders.”
“I’m not sure what mentioning it would accomplish. As you said, the Ventori are a warrior race. Ako’s behavior is common among your people.”
Well, Kellan didn’t believe in suffering in silence. If Zilrath refused to say anything to Bron, Kellan would bring it up on his own.
Bron, flanked by two of the Brokvata, arrived a few minutes later. The Brokvata were elite fighters, the most ruthless the Protectorate had to offer. Kellan had applied to join their ranks many years ago, but he was offered his own ship around the same time. He’d chosen the freedom of command over the notoriety of being a Brokvata.
Kellan motioned the small group inside as he stepped out of their way. The chancellor entered, but the Brokvata took up positions at either end of the porch.