Caging the Beast

by Marie Harte

  Annoyed at what he knew to be pretence, Zachem rolled to his feet and struck hard and fast.

  Tarn went down and got up much more slowly than he had before. They both tired, but now Zachem doubted the extent of Tarn’s exhaustion. The battle forced Zachem to draw on reserves he hadn’t had to use since the Dorvian Conquest. What did Tarn use to keep up with the beast?

  “Don’t hold back on my account, Slave Six,” he taunted.

  Tarn grimaced and wheezed, “I don’t want to hurt you too much. Not when I have that fine ass waiting for me.”

  Zachem feinted left and followed with a blow to Tarn’s gut, which he expected Tarn to lean back from. The move wasn’t special, nor was it harder than any he’d pushed before. Yet Tarn fell into it and groaned as he hit the ground. Stunned, Zachem waited for him to recover instead of going for the man’s throat. But Tarn remained down.

  Through a flurry of screams, congratulations and enthused well-wishes from the crowd, Yorum declared Zachem the victor and pushed him off the dais. Rushed away from the fight and down into the caves, into the cleaning area, he allowed a few slaves to wash him and a medic to check over his wounds.

  The bruises he’d received still hurt and would take some time to heal. Tarn had beaten the hell out of his ribs and thighs. But why the hell had he fallen and remained down? Was he playing or did I hit what I didn’t mean to? Concerned that he’d seriously hurt him, Zachem demanded to see Tarn again.

  Once clean and draped in a coarse robe, guards led him to Master Furon’s quarters.

  “Well done, Beast!” Furon laughed with delight. “We made more tonight than we did all last quarter. Outstanding. You’ll be richly rewarded for this. Now go.” He motioned for the guards to remove him then turned back to the slaves waiting on him.

  The guards led him from Furon’s room and Pyrgo joined them. “Bring him this way,” Pyrgo ordered the others.

  “What the hell? I want to see Tarn.”

  “Where do you think we’re taking you?” Pyrgo answered. “And while it was a nice fight, you need to watch your tone. Slave.” Still riding on a battle high, Zachem snapped, “Shut the fuck up, Pyrgo. I’m not in the mood.”

  Pyrgo drew a phaser and shot Zachem with a pulse vibrant enough to stun him to immobility.

  “Shit, Pyrgo. What the hell?” one of the guards asked.

  “He’ll remember later,” another warned.

  Pyrgo swore. “I’m not afraid of the beast. Now bring him with you. I don’t care how heavy he is. Grab a few more guards if need be, but move it.”

  It took four large guards to drag Zachem into an unfamiliar cell and toss him onto a massive, surprisingly soft bed. After the others left, Pyrgo leant down, looking for what, Zachem couldn’t say. “You have tonight. Don’t blow it.” Tarn’s laughter met his ears, but he couldn’t turn his head, still paralysed from the stunner. “Oh, I intend for him to blow it,” his cellmate answered.

  “Funny. You have the privacy you asked for, and Master Furon sends his regards. You made him a very rich, and even more powerful, man tonight.”Pyrgo didn’t sound happy about the fact, which made Zachem wonder just what the hell was going on.

  Tingling spread through his limbs, but he forced himself not to move yet.

  “Thank you, guard. Now, if I might enjoy the fruit of my labour?” Tarn reached out and ran a hot hand over Zachem’s chest, pushing the sides of the robe apart.

  Pyrgo said something nasty that made Tarn smile. But Zachem didn’t sense an attraction between the two. Nothing they did or said was overtly sexual, though they acted like equals. Due to Tarn’s position as an ex-slave master? Or something more?

  Slamming the door behind him, Pyrgo left Zachem and Tarn alone. The loud click of a lock sounded, and then silence filled the room.

  Tarn stared down at him, his bright green eyes full of appreciation as they ran over Zachem’s body, lingering on his lips. “By now you probably realise I took that last punch on purpose. Sorry, Beast, but Master Furon and I made a deal. Trust me, this was the best way for us to come together. Now go ahead and vent. I know the effects of the stunner have faded.”

  Zachem rolled off the bed to his feet, still trying to rid himself of the pinpricks of feeling invading everywhere. “I can’t believe you threw that fight. You were right there with me, and then I felt you hold back.” He paused, struggling with the need to keep his distance with the slave master and now cheat. “How could you? ” Tarn sighed and removed the robe he wore. He had on nothing underneath but the flat black collar at his throat. His cock stood stiff and proud as he walked towards Zachem.

  Despite Zachem’s shock and rage at Tarn’s deception, he wanted nothing more than to get on his knees and pleasure the man. And he hated himself for it.

  “Why do you think I did it? I wanted you. And trust me, I took enough of a beating to keep me limping for days.” He pointed to the purple and blue marks over his right leg, as well as to the growing bruise on his abdomen. “I don’t heal as fast as you, Zachem.”

  “You were supposed to fight me. You’re a slaver and a dick, but I thought I could trust you to at least fight with honour.”

  Tarn grimaced. “There’s a reason for all of this. I want to trust you with the truth, but it’s too soon. We haven’t really bonded, not yet.” Tarn licked his lips and stared down at Zachem’s exposed front. He walked to the table beside the bed and dipped his fingers in a jar. Then he smeared the stuff over his cock and groaned. “I’ve been waiting for this. And it’s been so hard, waiting.”

  Zachem couldn’t move. His feet froze to the floor, long-dormant instincts rising as Tarn’s scent hit him squarely in the balls.

  Tarn approached and circled behind him. “That’s it. Just stand there and wait for your master to tell you what to do.”

  Baffled at his desire to do just that, for a man he didn’t even respect, Zachem trembled with the need to rebel. To his shock, he couldn’t refuse Tarn.

  “We both know what you need, my large beast. It’s okay,” Tarn said softly and slid the robe off his shoulders.

  Soft, wet kisses spread from between his shoulder blades down his back. His dick spiked and creamed, the hunger for more filling his slit.

  Tarn’s hands stroked and petted, their warmth blazing a trail of arousal everywhere they touched.

  Zachem’s vision went red, his desire for this male, this unworthy drun, overwhelming.

  “Don’t move unless I tell you to,” Tarn warned and prodded him to spread his legs wider.

  “What are you doing to me?” Zachem growled, wanting to hurt Tarn, to push him away and resist his compulsion to obey.

  “I’m giving you what you need. Letting you submit, forcing you to give me what I need,” Tarn explained in hard voice. “Now be quiet until you’re told to speak. And don’t move. ”

  Zachem clenched his jaw tight and fought to defy Tarn’s order, not sure why his instincts had kicked in the way they had. He’d never before responded to any male the way he did now, not even to his beloved Master Caegon.

  Hands ran up and down his inner thighs, and he couldn’t contain the groan that erupted. A callused palm weighed his balls, then cupped them with a surprising gentleness.

  The contrasting shock of what he expected and what he received had him trembling with arousal. Tarn reached around his waist and held Zachem’s shaft, running his fingers through the wet slit to coat the entire rod with his moisture, and he nearly lost it.

  “That’s just what I like. A nice, wet cock,” Tarn whispered and kissed the middle of Zachem’s back.

  He shuddered, caught in a lust so extreme he wanted to burst.

  “Don’t come, not yet.”

  Tarn released him and spread his ass cheeks apart.

  “That’s a nice hole, Beast. So tight, so sweet. I wonder how it tastes…” Zachem panted with anticipation.

  “Lean forward. Ah, that’s it.” Tarn didn’t disappoint. He rimmed Zachem with his tongue, licking so lightly it felt l
ike a whisper. Then he put more pressure there, alternately blowing then licking. He shoved his tongue inside Zachem’s anus, pushing harder into a tight passage that hadn’t been used in years. When he stopped Zachem couldn’t help his moan of denial.

  “Easy,” Tarn warned before shoving a finger inside his ass.

  “Oh fuck,” Zachem cried, needing to come like he needed to breathe.

  “Not yet,” Tarn bit out, then shoved another finger inside, stretching the tender flesh with a rough shove. He scissored his fingers, widening Zachem, preparing him for that massive cock. “Didn’t I tell you not to speak?” he rasped and swore, thrusting his fingers deeper. “I knew you’d be good, but you feel incredible, so damned tight.”Tarn pulled his fingers free and pushed Zachem towards the bed. He shoved Zachem facedown and kicked his feet further apart.

  “I’m coming in, right the fuck now,” Tarn rasped. “Come when you want to, because I’m going to bathe you with seed, my pretty beast. Stars, your skin is so bright you’re glowing.”

  Before Zachem could move, Tarn pressed forward with more than his fingers. Thick flesh wedged its way into his anus and began to slowly, steadily push . He hadn’t been taken in years, and then only once by his Handler in a painful, humiliating scene. Tarn made him want this. He couldn’t have said why, but he knew it was right.

  Tarn coaxed him with his voice and continued to push. Energy flowed between them, a powerful tie of attraction and affection Zachem could feel in Tarn’s very self. The burn of his penetration only increased Zachem’s pleasure, and he moaned as he writhed against the bed beneath him.

  “That’s it. Show me how much you want it.” Tarn groaned and shoved the rest of himself inside, until his balls smacked against Zachem’s. Tarn held there, allowing Zachem to feel all of him before he started moving.

  Each thrust went fully in and fully out, Tarn’s length seeming endless as he continued to prod Zachem’s sweet spot. The alien sensation of being taken, when Zachem normally did the taking, brought him to another plane of pleasure altogether.

  “Yes, yes,” he hissed as Tarn’s pounding grew rougher.

  Animalistic grunts and groans filled the room, the scent of sex saturating everything.

  Tarn dug his nails into Zachem’s sides and fucked him like a man possessed, fuelling his need to be dominated by a stronger, tougher male.

  Zachem tried but couldn’t stop himself. The rapture of orgasm spread through his entire body. His balls tightened and he clenched his ass, stirring another moan from Tarn.

  The sweet sound sent him over the edge.

  He yelled as he spilled all over the bed beneath him.

  Tarn rammed harder, his cock like steel. “Fuck, yes,” he moaned in an echo of tones that didn’t sound human. Then he shoved deeper and stilled, whispering Zachem’s name.

  Just as he thought it was over, when Tarn finally ceased, Tarn leant down and bit him on the shoulder.

  With sharp teeth that fucking hurt. “Ow, dammit,” he barked, only to swallow another shout as ecstasy crashed through him. Another climax, this one from out of nowhere, caused him to shudder as a well of seed left him yet again.

  Tarn kept his mouth around Zachem’s shoulder and fucked him again, this time coming with such force that trickles of cum washed over Zachem’s legs and ass. The scent of Tarn was so strong Zachem swam in it.

  When he finally released Zachem’s shoulder, Tarn muttered in a language Zachem didn’t understand. He pulled out, finally, and wiped his cock over Zachem’s back, spreading the mess everywhere. “Mine. Say it, Zachem. Say you’re mine.” Too exhausted to think, Zachem did as commanded. “I’m yours.” But then an odd thing happened. He fell into a dreamy lassitude, where a part of him drifted from his being. The sense of Tarn invaded like a conquering army, but instead of seizing what it wanted, Tarn’s invasion settled into his bones and his blood. Energy pulsed, grew and warmed, like a soft caress of comfort.

  “Shit, no,” Tarn groaned, as if from a distance. And then he must have pushed Zachem onto his back on the bed, because Zachem felt a mouth around his cock and the aching, familiar pressure of climax began to build again.

  Time passed. Another climax and then another issued from him, pleasure intermittent with the painful stings of Tarn’s teeth. Nothing made sense but the utter rapture taking Zachem into the peace he’d craved his entire life. He submitted fully, not holding back, and was rewarded with a brightness that extinguished the dark always waiting inside him.

  Tarn came back to himself and stared down at the shock of blood and seed that covered Zachem and the bed. Unknowingly, Tarn had performed half of the Ebrellion mating ritual.

  Caught in the grip of a lust so extreme, he’d lost himself in the erotic promise of Zachem’s perfect body, mind and soul.

  Without Zachem’s consent.

  Shocked and ashamed at what he’d allowed to happen, he rose on unsteady feet and sought the attached lavatory. The mating bond was a sacred thing and should never be done without the consent of those involved. Tarn had no rationalisation for his mishandling of the male he had come to care for. Losing control was no excuse, especially not to a seasoned warrior. He tried to ignore the ache inside him as he gathered some items to clean up his male. To clean up Zachem.

  He’s not mine.

  Not yet.

  But he very much wanted Zachem to belong to him and no other. The need to complete the ritual burned, but Tarn wouldn’t do it. Zachem held a part of Tarn’s shei inside him, a part that drained much of Tarn’s energy. Tarn could continue to fuck Zachem every way he wanted, but until Zachem fucked him and spilled inside his own honet, they wouldn’t be truly bonded.

  It hurt to have Zachem so near but not truly his, but Tarn wouldn’t take that choice away from his lover. My mate. Mine.

  Trying to shake free from his possessive feelings, he hefted Zachem over his shoulder with a grunt and cleaned him in the lav. Tarn left him in the shower while he stripped the bed and remade it with the extra sheets Pyrgo had thoughtfully left. Then he quickly returned to his lover’s side.

  To Tarn’s relief, the many bite marks and scratches he’d left on Zachem faded as the male’s natural healing ability took effect. He couldn’t say the same for his myriad bruises and hurts, now that he’d disrupted his shei. But he figured he deserved them. With a scowl, he removed his collar and Zachem’s, prepared to tell his lover the truth about matters between them—to an extent.

  Perhaps with enough time and by freeing Zachem, he could win the male’s trust. Once he had that, he could admit what he was and what Zachem meant to him. Already Tarn knew he would never be able to live without the man he considered his Creation. If Zachem rejected him, he’d literally die. With the bonding only half completed, Tarn needed it finished or he’d slowly fade into death.

  But without Zachem, life wouldn’t be worth living anyway.

  Tarn carefully carried his lover back to the clean bed and set him down. He left for the lav and cleaned himself, then returned to the bed to watch his mate sleep. The emotional coil inside his chest threatened to break free, and as he stared at the beauty of Zachem’s body and shei, he fought the weakness of tears filling his eyes.

  He ran a hand over Zachem’s cheek and a finger over his firm lips. He wouldn’t— he couldn’t—give up his mate. He could only hope his lack of control over these new emotions didn’t kill him in the end.

  Chapter Seven

  Zachem woke the next morning feeling loose, energetic, and totally relaxed. The last thing he expected to see was Tarn sitting in a chair by the bed, watching him with haunted eyes.

  “Tarn?”

  Tarn blinked and smiled, making Zachem wonder if he’d been seeing things. “How do you feel?”

  “Really good.” He remembered everything from after the fight and fought a rising erection that had nothing to do with just waking up. “You’re not bad in bed.”

  “I know.” The arrogance in Tarn’s voice amused him.

  “Almos
t as good as I am.”

  “No. You, Beast, are in another league entirely.” Tarn joined him on the bed and blanketed him with his body. Slowly, he lowered his lips to Zachem’s.

  Tarn’s kiss rocked his very foundation. So soft, so full of feeling. It made Zachem’s head spin. Tarn increased the pressure and trailed his mouth lower. He took one of Zachem’s nipples between his teeth and bit.

  “Damn,” Zachem said on a breath. He should have been sated from so much use yesterday, but he wanted Tarn all over again.

  “Let me.” Tarn made the request sound more like an order as he shimmied down Zachem’s body and took his cock to the back of his throat.

  Curling his fingers into Tarn’s silky hair, Zachem couldn’t help arching up to cement contact with Tarn’s talented mouth. By the stars, his lover’s lips felt like a vise. The pleasure made him lightheaded as Tarn quickened his stroking tongue and bobbed over him.

  “So good,” he murmured, trapped in a swirling haze of lust and affection. Tarn cupped his balls and inserted a finger into his ass, increasing the heady sensations heating his blood.

  “Fuck, yes. More.”

  Tarn shoved another finger inside and sucked harder, and Zachem spewed in a rush.

  And then Tarn was spitting his cum into his hand and rubbing it over his own cock. In seconds he pushed Zachem’s legs apart and angled under him, thrusting his steely shaft in deep.

  Watching his lover, seeing the aching need, the desperation to come inside him, took Zachem’s breath away. He felt a connection to Tarn that went beyond submission, beyond the physical into something more.

  “Mother night, you’re beautiful,” Tarn whispered and thrust in and out, his hands on either side of Zachem’s head. “I love your silver hair, those burning red eyes. So handsome, so perfect,” he said on a groan and pistoned faster. “You make me so fucking hard.” He pumped a few more times before he came.