Clan and Conscience

by Tracy St. John

Now that Ospar had stuck the knife into the guts of the Nobek’s failings, he twisted it. “Then there’s you. Coasting along on Daddy’s good will. Letting him take care of you. Would you like to review which of us is being coddled?”

  Jol seethed. “You’re an idiot a million times over. I’ve never met anyone less deserving of the breaks he’s been given. There would be little shame if I failed to keep a fool such as you alive.”

  The twinges of fear Ospar had experience as he’d confronted the security guard disappeared in a hot wash of rage. He stormed across the floor, to confront Jol nose-to-nose. “Is that a threat?”

  The Nobek’s voice turned low and deadly. “Don’t flatter yourself that you’re worth the effort. Get out of my space. Eat your food and wallow in your ego.”

  His words reminded Ospar that he still held his ruined meal in his hand. Too angry to think straight, he snarled, “It’s garbage now. That makes it more fitting for you. Enjoy.” With that, he shoved the tray in Jol’s face, covering the dark features in sauce and small chunks of meat and vegetables.

  There was a long moment of shocked silence from both men. Ospar stopped breathing. What had he done?

  He didn’t have an instant to consider the matter. The Nobek shrieked, the sound crazed. It was the most horrific cry Ospar had ever heard. When the tray dropped from Jol’s face, Ospar didn’t see the red and yellow and green sauces that dripped from his chin. He didn’t see morsels of rizpah and chafga sliding down the man’s visage. He saw a monster with glaring eyes. He saw madness. He saw fangs.

  It would come as little solace later when Ospar realized no rational person could have looked at Jol’s livid expression and not panicked. The Dramok’s anger had led to him taking temporary leave of his senses, but Ospar was thoroughly sane as he stared at the terrible creature screaming at him.

  He lost control and ran.

  No! No! You never run from an angry Nobek!

  Even as his legs pumped, barreling him out of the room and down the hall, Ospar realized his colossal error. A deadly error. Every Kalquorian knew it. Fearing the worst, Ospar darted a glance over his shoulder and wished that he hadn’t.

  Jol was right behind him, food plastered to his outraged, bestial face. The worst part was seeing his eyes, however. There was a mad gleam in their purple depths, a predatory joy of the killer bringing prey to bay.

  Too late! Keep running! Escape!

  Ospar was too terrified to stop anyway. There was no hope of talking with Jol. At that moment, the Nobek lacked reason as far as his better attributes were concerned. Instead, Ospar put on all the speed he could.

  He was steps outside his sleeping room when he yelled, “Door, close and lock!”

  He charged in as it began to shut. It hissed closed quickly, but Jol was much, much faster. The Nobek was in the chamber with Ospar as the door clicked to announce it had locked.

  Ospar had no opportunity to figure out his next move, if he had any moves available to him at all. Jol’s muscled arms clenched around the Dramok’s waist and lifted. Without losing a second’s momentum, The Nobek bore him down on the large sleeping mat, face down. The frenzied beast ripped at Ospar’s pants, tearing the fabric from his ass and thighs.

  Ospar cried out in terror, but already the analytical part of his mind was trying to figure out how to survive being caught by an irate Nobek. There were two outcomes to the situation. Either Jol would try to kill him—or he would fuck him violently. Murder or mate. It was all the breed knew if they reached the condition Jol was in.

  Judging from the desperate clawings at his trousers, Ospar thought he might have landed on the survivable side of things. Yet Jol’s instincts might shift in the other direction if he wasn’t handled carefully. Either way, the Dramok was in for a world of hurt.

  Just get through your mistake in one piece. Concentrate on that.

  Ospar’s better sense could barely be heard over the yammering fear in his skull. Terror tried to make him commit another terrible mistake, but Ospar forced himself to calm. He’d turned Jol into a mindless animal. Now it was time to manage his error.

  In a shaky but conciliatory tone, Ospar spoke loud enough to be heard over Jol’s growls. “Okay. Okay, Nobek, okay. I messed up. I realize that. I surrender. See?” He didn’t fight the man working to rid him of his pants. Instead he grabbed his waistband and pulled to open it, to show he was giving himself up for a rage-fuck.

  Jol howled out and gave a mighty tug. Ospar’s pants quit their resistance and tore free, leaving him naked. Then Jol fell on him, his body covering Ospar’s. The Dramok grunted, pressed down by the weight.

  Hard teeth bit down on the back of Ospar’s neck. Ospar clamped down on the frightened scream that wanted to escape him.

  Instead, he shouted, “Fuck me, Nobek! I give up! Fuck me!”

  Jol growled and bit harder. Ospar was surprised to not feel the sting of fangs. Perhaps Jol had found some presence of mind then. Or, more likely, the animal side of the Nobek wanted him to suffer as awfully as possible.

  Either way, not being intoxicated by the Jol’s venom would allow Ospar to hang onto his senses during the attack. Though the bite was strong enough to hurt, Jol wasn’t chewing through the Dramok’s flesh to tear his spine out. That was a plus. Ospar began to hope for real that Jol was holding him in place to fuck him. The feeling of Jol’s hand between them, pulling at the crotch of his pants to free himself, verified that.

  Okay, Ospar had won the lesser of the two evils. Or so, he hoped. Spreading his legs wide, he spoke through teeth clenched in anticipation of pain. “All right, do what you have to. I won’t fight. I won’t—”

  All the breath and ability to speak blasted from Ospar as Jol’s slick primary cock shoved at his ass. Jol growled as he began to stuff it into the tight entrance. Ospar steeled himself. He’d not had sex in quite a while, and Jol would not regain sanity and prepare him. No, this was going to be a hard, brutal fuck, one Ospar had provoked.

  Ospar shoved his face into the mat to muffle the coming screams. He forced his ass to relax and yield to the demanding jabs that already hurt like hell. He did so just in time. Jol thrust into him hard, and Ospar yelled into the linens. Pain seared…but it wasn’t as horrific as Ospar had expected.

  Small blessings. Hang onto the small blessings and hope for the best.

  The Nobek pumped against him in a frenzy, the primal exhibition of mastery over his foe. Thankfully, Jol’s cock was lubricating well.

  Small blessings. Take them where they come and hope he’ll be done soon.

  The ample slipperiness made Jol slide in easily once the Dramok’s instinctive tightening had diminished. Nonetheless, the friction burned.

  It’s still not death. I can manage this. I can. I will.

  Ospar’s cries settled into moans as Jol’s groin thudded against his ass. His protesting muscles began to unwind, to yield more as the Nobek worked in and out, his cock thick enough to provide jolting contact on the inner walls.

  Something else was happening. Something Ospar couldn’t believe.

  By the ancestors, am I getting hard?

  He was. Heat trickled into his cocks, trapped between him and the bedding. They swelled, growing thick beneath his belly. The rhythmic use within his passage fed their fiery response to Jol riding him.

  Fuck. There are ways of coping, but this is ridiculous. This can’t be happening.

  Yet it was. Through dumb luck—or the lack of it, judging from the tide of humiliation that filled Ospar as hotly as unintended passion—Jol was angled just right to massage his prostate. That delectable sweet spot was getting all the pleasurable rubbing it could manage from the Nobek’s thrusting cock.

  In addition, the Nobek’s powerful shoves pushed Ospar’s entire body back and forth over the sleeping mat. The motion forced his own shafts against the yielding surface in a manner that excited them.

  The more he acclimated, the less it hurt. The less he hurt, the more Ospar noticed incredible sensations. Like Jo
l’s weight on him, pinning him down in a way that seemed increasingly erotic. The big, strong physique blanketed Ospar in a fashion he’d not experienced with other men.

  Son of a bitch. Son of a fucking bitch, I am not believing this.

  Jol’s cock filled him better and better with each thrust as Ospar’s ass continued to adjust to his girth. The astounding abrasion of the shaft against his hotspot grew more delicious with every movement. The Nobek’s secondary cock slapped against Ospar’s perineum and the base of his rear staff. It was an enthralling sensation, sending lightning bolts of excitement through the Dramok’s belly.

  Dear ancestors. This should not feel this damned good. Oh—oh.

  Growls emitted from between Jol’s teeth, still clenched on Ospar’s neck. But not as tightly. He only applied enough pressure to hold Ospar in place now, no longer hurting him. The vibrations of his animal snarls shivered straight down Ospar’s spine, alighting every cell.

  A little of Jol’s weight lifted, enough that he could squirm a hand beneath Ospar. So that he could grab his primary and stroke with demanding pulls.

  Fuck! Ancestors—oh—fuck—good. Good. So. Fucking. Good.

  For one maddened instant, he tried to resist, to convince his hands to push Jol’s away. Instead, his fists gripped the linens and twisted as desire blocked any impulse to fight back.

  There wasn’t a thing Ospar could do about his overwhelming arousal. Not a damned thing. Figuring that out made his body respond even more.

  I don’t want him to stop. I want him to keep going. And I want to come. Please, Jol, let me come.

  Ospar gave himself over to the delectable feelings coursing through him. It was odd to be on the receiving end, to have handed over control to another. Dramoks as a rule did not enjoy encounters they weren’t dictating. Yet Ospar’s body responded to this taking he couldn’t stop, to the unexpected pleasure.

  Yes. Keep fucking me. Make me come with you.

  Jol seemed determined to obey the silent plea. He worked Ospar’s primary, the almost punishing grip demanding Ospar’s absolute surrender. The Dramok’s cocks were heavy and full, wanting to burst. He sank into the sensations, of that hard cock rubbing over his hotspot, of the friction of a calloused hand on his shaft, of a delicious ticklish surge of lava bubbling in his belly, roiling into his smaller cock, erupting into his primary.

  Jol’s movements became jerkier, signaling that he was close to his end. It fed Ospar’s excitement, knowing the Nobek was about to fill him with passion. Ecstasy rolled deep in his groin, pushing towards his shafts.

  Mother of All, I’m going to come. Yes. Yes!

  After a few ungainly thrusts, Jol relinquished his hold on Ospar’s neck and howled his victory. As if in answer to the animal cry, a hot tide of pleasure pulsed into the Dramok’s ass. Ospar’s body seized at sound and sensation, and a fiery trail blazed through his cocks. He surrendered to the gorgeous feeling, wailing into the mat as bolts of ecstasy poured from his primary, emptying him in the best possible way. He allowed the intense rushes to obliterate thought and any sense of embarrassment that he’d found release in such an un-Dramoklike manner.

  The most stunning factor was the amazing sense of Jol’s body blanketing his, the cock jerking deep in his ass. The weight was heady. Enthralling. And comforting in a strange, exciting way.

  Jol fell still. Ospar did as well, letting the final spasms drain the last drops, relaxing into the haze of sheer physical gratification.

  I got through it. I’m all right. Better than all right, but Ospar didn’t want to investigate that notion too closely at the moment, even with sticky warmth coating his belly and Jol’s hand still loosely circling his cock.

  A minute after Jol’s shaft quieted, its iron softening inside Ospar, the Nobek twitched. A loud curse exploded from him, and he yanked free. He tore loose, the now-delightful weight disappearing from the Dramok’s back.

  The moment had arrived to confront what they’d done. Ospar drew a breath to settle himself. To meet the current situation as the horrible thing it was. To forget the wondrous animal drive that had made forceful sex not simply bearable, but enjoyable for a short time.

  Ospar pushed himself up from the mat, grimacing at the return of pain now that the pleasurable part was over. He shoved aside the storm of emotions trying to crowd in on him, the confusing morass he couldn’t begin to make sense of. Don’t look at the specifics. Engage the situation as a whole, starting with how we got here.

  In director mode, he got to his feet and turned to deal with Jol.

  The Nobek’s expression was horrified. Disgusted. At me or at how this happened? Ospar tried not to think which reaction he preferred.

  Calling on his deepest reserves, Ospar addressed the most pressing issue he’d identified. “I don’t hold you responsible for what happened. I provoked you. I ran, knowing full well how that could end. Thank you for not killing me. For—for doing what you did instead.”

  Jol appeared no less upset at Ospar’s gesture of understanding. He shuddered and gazed at Ospar standing there naked before him. He shuddered again. He looked down at himself, at his half-erect cocks hanging out of his pants. With another curse, made with the most wretched tone Ospar had ever heard, Jol fumbled with his pants. Still trying to clothe himself, he turned to the door and stopped short to stare at it when it didn’t open for him.

  “Let me out.” Jol’s desperate plea brought sympathy to the fore of Ospar’s complicated emotions. It quelled the rest of what he’d thought he’d say to set things right.

  He’s right. Distance might be better at this point. A controlled retreat, so we can deal with it better at a later time.

  “Door, unlock and open.” He quelled the urge to ask Jol if he was all right. From the look on the Nobek’s face, the man did not want to talk about his feelings. He didn’t want to talk at all.

  Without a backward glance, Jol stumbled out of the room. As he disappeared, Ospar ordered the door closed again. He briefly considered locking it once more.

  Why? Jol came after me because I acted like an idiot. He won’t do it again, because I won’t give him a reason to. If he comes by to check on me later, it would be an insult to have the door locked.

  What a mess Ospar had made of the situation. He sighed, disgusted with himself. Especially over that look Jol had given him. And that broken tone as he’d begged, Let me out.

  “Fuck. I’m sorry, Nobek. You’d never believe it for a second, but I am.”

  Meanwhile, the back of Ospar’s neck hurt where Jol had bitten him. And his ass ached. Once more, he marveled at having come out as unscathed as he had.

  It was almost as if Jol had somehow hung onto some vestige of hard-won control, overcoming the hardwired Nobek instinct that should have made the encounter a bloody, perhaps deadly, one.

  Whatever the case, I’m damned lucky. Things could have turned out so much worse than they did.

  Thinking that, Ospar lurched to the lavatory. A shower and some pain inhibitor were his dinner menu now. Along with the returning humiliation.

  At least one point had been accomplished, he reasoned as he poked through the cabinet where he kept first aid supplies. Jol’s stint as his bodyguard was done. The Nobek would no doubt insist on being taken off duty. He might even quit Itga, relieving Ospar of having to see him ever again. Of being reminded how he’d responded to Jol fucking him.

  Yeah, that’s nice. Celebrate making the man so miserable that he resigns his job and maybe dishonors his father who tried to make something of him. You’re a really nice guy, aren’t you, Ospar?

  Ospar swallowed the guilt that made him want to retch. He had gotten his wish to rid himself of Jol, though not in the manner he’d expected. The sick twisting in his stomach assured him it was not his proudest achievement.

  Chapter 6

  At daybreak, Jol was still awake. Trying to distract himself from the chaos rampaging through his skull, he had spent much of the dark hours studying Ospar’s multiple aqua
riums and their colorful residents. The small fish and sea creatures had been his companions through the long night. Inspecting them, discovering with his handheld what their names were, and in the end simply watching them had restored his equilibrium. He was surprised to find how soothing gazing at them could be. The Nobek resolved that when the task of guarding Ospar was over, he would get his own aquarium full of the fabulous creatures.

  That time would come sooner than later, he was sure.

  At least he’d not done massive physical damage to Ospar. Somehow, he’d found something in the recesses of his thinking brain to keep the worst from happening. Some piece had remembered he was supposed to protect the Dramok, and it kept him from unleashing the entirety of his instincts on his tormentor.

  It was cold comfort through the long, endless hours of the night.

  The coming of a new day heralded facing the events of the evening before. The instant Jol heard a step in the hallway beyond the common room’s door, he left his new, calming friends behind. The fish swam on, unconcerned with the struggles of men as Jol went to the lounger. He perched there, waiting. Tension sang in his veins as he wondered if Ospar would notice him sitting there. Jol drew a breath as the steps drew closer, readying for the boom to be lowered.

  Ospar glanced in, stopping short in his journey down the corridor. His easygoing expression turned confused and curious as he noted Jol. He blinked, as if startled by the man’s continued existence. After a second, Ospar said, “Oh. Good morning. Did you sleep?”

  Jol was surprised by the normal, damned-near brightness of the Dramok’s voice. Did Ospar not imagine how he’d spent the hour after their confrontation? That Jol had waited for a summons at the door? To discover law enforcement there, ready to take him in on charges of assaulting his employer?

  When that hadn’t happened, Jol had imagined Ospar huddled in a corner, cowering in terror of a second assault. When he could not handle the silence in the house another moment, Jol had ventured to the closed door of the Dramok’s sleeping room. It had opened automatically, shocking him anew that Ospar had not locked it. His employer’s steady snores had been more astounding still. The man had fallen asleep, unafraid of syndicate thugs intent on blowing him to bits or the bodyguard who’d done the unthinkable to him.