Wand-Losing & Other Things You Shouldn't Be Doing

by Gabbo De la Parra

  “I see.”

  “And we have a problem.”

  “Please don’t apologize.”

  “That is not my intention. Remorse is a thing I don’t suffer easily.” Still, Max looked contrite. “I’m nothing, if not fair. There’s only one way for us to be even and let that episode go, so we could find a way to enter into a fair friendship and guide our planets to mutual benefit.”

  A very odd sensation grabbed Rezzu by the balls. Part of him blindly hoped for this to go the way his cock was clamoring for. The other was absolutely sure he needed to stand up and run as if chased by the plague. “W-what do you propose?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “You must finger me until I come.” The tone was matter-of-fact, and the narrowed gaze felt like a knife, slicing through Rezzu’s defenses.

  “You can’t be serious.” But as much as reasoning and intellect were beyond offended by the idea, the material part of him, the animal, primal part of him was absolutely pleased and made his cock perk.

  “I am deadly serious. However, I’m going to let you think about it ’til you finish your dessert.” The delicate silver spoon in Max’s hand began moving again with elegant efficiency, and each tidbit disappearing into that provocative, cruel mouth was pure torture.

  Neither spoke until the dessert had been completely consumed, although, it had been a slow dance to see who could eat it slower, but enjoying it all the same. Rezzu had to suppress the moans every mouthful tried to wrench from inside him as he retained a monolithic exterior. The offering had been shocking, and, despite his inward turmoil, he was not going to let Max have the upper hand, even if Rezzu’s own hand would be the one doing the invasion.

  But, was it really an invasion when your opponent was blatantly letting you in? Couldn’t it be just a very well-devised lure to trap you and then force you to relent, to spill the secrets you were not ready to reveal? What would Keda do? No. His sister, the strategist, wasn’t the best guide in this moment. She wouldn’t simply finger Max; she would choke him with her imaginary cock while finger blasting him, and her kirsuber on top would be to fuck him on his back with four fingers inside his mouth to keep the choking theme up. Those images didn’t help. On the contrary, they deflated his already weak resolution to refuse the fingering offer while inflaming lower parts.

  “Oh just finger him and stop being a wuss.” His sister’s sardonic voice taunted him. “What’s the worst that could happen, that you enjoy it too much and come with him? Yeah, I bet he’d love that. To be drenched in your come, brother.”

  Rezzu hoped his wince had been imperceptible, but as he settled his eyes on Max, the arched eyebrow told him otherwise.

  The girl helper took away their dessert plates and left them after Max’s, “That would be all, Leena. Thank you.”

  If Rezzu caught the complete meaning of the words, there would be no interruptions until Max summoned someone directly.

  “Have you reached a decision?” Max spoke, getting to his feet and pulling the neck of his uniform with a finger, in the exact way to take it off. By the time he was at arm’s length of Rezzu’s face he had the flaccid arms of the suit hanging about his hips. The fine mat of hair covering his chest shone in various hues of brown, red, and yellow. His nipples were rosy medallions crowned with tiny suckable mounds. The same polished brass of his artificial neck, arm and hand covered his ribs and diaphragm, a two- or three-inch grommet encircled a glowing silvery blue light sitting low between his pecs. Rezzu saw the veins bulging in Max’s flesh arm, and the idea of a thick vein running the length of Max’s shaft made his mouth water— and sealed his fate.

  “I-I did.” He was young, very green by the longevity of his people, and his voice came out full of inexperience and fear, more than it should have been. Still, a wicked part of him added, “But these are not the same circumstances. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

  An eyebrow hiked up on Max’s brow, accompanied by an expression, even more wicked than whatever had made Rezzu utter those words, coming alive on his face. “You mean we need to call three other men to have sex where we can watch as you finger me?”

  “NO.” Rezzu sprang, and ended up looming over Max, their faces mere inches apart. “That’s not what I meant.” Although, he frankly didn’t know what he had meant.

  “Well, then.” Max turned, letting Rezzu see the expanse of his shoulders, the way his exposed spine made of intricate brass gears and dots of that silvery blue light curved invitingly as he lowered the uniform and exposed his round, muscular glutes. He climbed onto the table, snuffing the candle in its copper vase off with a soft blow that had him in such a vulnerable position, it made Rezzu shiver. He winked, lowering his chest more and spreading his legs as wide as the suit around his thighs permitted. “Yours to do as you please.”

  Rezzu didn’t know whether to sob like a puny child or howl like a beast in heat. Max’s skin was so perfect, it seemed a crime to mar it with a single touch. Hesitantly, he moved closer, and the predator, the monster inside, won. He did what any animal would once it had reached its prey; he sniffed, he inhaled, and the aroma was all teasing— all manly, and with the urge of this primal instinct he sank his teeth into a luscious cheek.

  The sound that came out of Max was a whiplash, and the beast became frenetic, frantically grabbing, spreading, mauling. And the rougher his mouth and hands were, the more he understood the grunts and growls emerging from the governor; they were commands to conquer, to ravish, to destroy.

  ****

  7. EMBRACE

  The first time his hand grasped the governor’s throat, he was surprised by the warmth of the metal. He didn’t know why he’d thought the artificial parts of the man would be cold. The heat emanating from the body pressed against his was absolute proof that the man was only cold when he decided to be that way, by his actions, by the manner in which his pale green eyes could dominate you if that was his intention.

  But now those eyes were shut and the cruel mouth was open exhaling a long moan of pleasure and submission, “Please.”

  That unnamed thing that had been dormant inside Rezzu while Max had fingered him the previous night growled, “Say it.” Two fingers kept their slow piston-like rhythm into the sweet orifice. Max didn’t answer, just squeezed the digits invading him, sending bolts that fathered goose bumps and made Rezzu’s cock jerk.

  Every cell of Rezzu’s body demanded him to be properly sheathed inside the governor. Fingers were not enough. Nonetheless, Rezzu still had a tendril of control over his animal urges. Max had offered him the opportunity to finger him to level the playing field; what he didn’t put on the table (figuratively since he was actually on all fours over a table) was the option to allow Rezzu to fuck him. Nevertheless, that was exactly what the inner beast demanded, forgetting that Colviri seed spilled inside a human would change his DNA. Yes, it would cause a human to be stronger and live longer. That’s how his human father would be able to live as long as his Colviri father, and that was a good thing, wasn’t it?

  But did Rezzu have the right to alter Max’s life like that without his knowledge? Just by the fact that if Max said the words, Rezzu’s cock would be so deep inside him in a nanosecond that the Universe wouldn’t have time to adjust to the shift in their matter?

  Rezzu couldn’t think straight, but he fought the beast effectively enough to conclude he couldn’t dump all this biological info on Max while he was in this vulnerable position. This wasn’t the time for that. He waited a few moments, and no coherent sound came out of Max. He kissed the square shoulder softly, lifted his weight and moved to his feet, leaving just his pumping fingers as connection, looking for a reaction.

  And the reaction came swiftly.

  Something closer to a growl than to a grunt emerged as Max reached between his legs to grab Rezzu’s cock with his robotic hand. The burning metal was a disconcerting new experience. Perhaps under other circumstances he would have been af
raid for his manhood, but in the heat of the moment, the only message reaching his clouded brain was Max is stroking my cock.

  The Colviri by nature effused floods of precum to use as lubricant for penetration, and Rezzu had been using it to ease his fingers’ way into Max, but now it was the perfect substance helping those brass digits to glide over his shaft with the exact amount of grasp and corkscrew motion to drive Rezzu blindly and summarily to the edge.

  Thus, understanding Max’s action as tacit permission, Rezzu took hold of the governor’s cock and milked it for all he was worth. They became a well-oiled mechanism, its gears stroking, pumping, entering. Rezzu’s sole intention now was to bring Max to climax, to see him tremble with the explosion, and savor it; even if he wouldn’t be able to see that glorious face when it happened. Maybe this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but their positions were too well-orchestrated to attempt any change, not in this moment, not tonight.

  His own orgasm neared, and Rezzu redoubled his efforts, both his hands in absolute synchrony, pulling and pushing, stabbing and stroking. Max moved the hand supporting his torso upward and used it to draw one ass cheek further apart, seeking (by the rising volume of his moans) a fuller and deeper penetration desperately, while the other was a blur in its frenetic maneuvers to wrench the culmination from Rezzu.

  “So close, so fucking close, Rezzu, please.” The voice was broken and breathless, and it tugged at Rezzu’s volatile, primal urges.

  Another finger found its way in, and Max cried as Rezzu nursed his little pleasure nub with precise and fast strokes. Rezzu tilted his head slightly, and Max’s new position (his head resting sideways over the table) allowed him to see the handsome face contorted in a delight-torture mask. The first contraction of secret muscles gripped Rezzu’s fingers, and jets of semen sped, splashing over Rezzu’s cock and triggering his own climax, perplexing and shattering.

  But something that didn’t have anything to do with the volcanos erupting from both of them happened. Ornate vases rose from their pedestals, the paintings on the walls rattled, the long, heavy curtains oscillated as if inflicted by an invisible force, and a sound like an enraged wind circled them.

  Rezzu saw these things through the orgasm-induced haze, and, before he had time to fully grasp the disturbance in the room, vases crashed on the floor, paintings unhinged themselves from the walls, curtains were torn apart, and with a final howl all went silent. Just their weak breathing intruded on the oppressing silence. Rezzu was used to supernatural manifestations, after all Kekoa Muselet, his father, was a high priest of Meha (after he had been guardian of their ancestors planet for many centuries), and her rites were anything but immobile. The thing was— he usually knew what was originating the commotion.

  His eyes went to Max, and Max flinched. His flinch didn’t look like it was caused by the removal of Rezzu’s fingers from his well-used pucker but as the flinch of someone caught in something they shouldn’t be doing. “What just happened?” Rezzu casually cleaned his hands with the tablecloth; it was ruined anyway.

  Trying to find a more dignified position than his ass in the air, Max stood up, pulled his uniform up to his waist and sat at the edge of the table. “I know you need an explanation. Just let me make a call first, and then I’ll do something better than talk, I’ll show you.”

  A standard hour later, Max was in his usual ensemble of boots, trousers, waistcoat, shirt, cravat, and his slightly tilted hat. A messenger had brought Rezzu a clean uniform to wear. They headed toward a part of Anatolia Rezzu hadn’t visit before, where the streets were narrower and the buildings seemed not just older but strangely toppling onto each other. Above them, stars shone timidly— more ashamed than afraid of illuminating the situation.

  “I appreciate your patience, Rezzu.” Max seemed nervous, something that disturbed Rezzu greatly. The governor was normally so confident— this new facet was unnerving.

  “As long as an explanation comes at the end, I am very patient.” His words brought a faintly reddish hue to Max’s perfect cheeks.

  Now he’s embarrassed.

  The carriage stopped in front of an establishment that looked like the lovechild of a chemist’s and a repair shop. The similitudes with Nova Gaia helped Rezzu to not feel extremely disoriented in this seemingly old-fashioned environment.

  A slim old man with thin, gray hair, gathered with a knotted silk ribbon on the base of his neck, welcomed them after the door, paneled with see-through glass, closed behind them accompanied by the happy ring of a minute bell.

  The apothecary (Rezzu didn’t know what else to call the gentleman) wore glasses with several lenses on each side. He moved them to the top of his head as he shook Max’s hand first and then Rezzu’s.

  “Oh, yes, the Colviri ambassador.” His name was Esaw Apteekerune. “But everyone just calls me Master Esaw, never bothered with Mister Apteekerune.” He giggled easily.

  “Master Esaw, would you help me with the thing we spoke about?”

  “Of course, Governor. It would be my pleasure.” He moved to lock the shop’s door. These obviously weren’t normal hours for him. “Please follow me.” He took them to the back. The idea of a repair shop became stronger as they entered a space so crowded with all kinds of gears and metal scraps it seemed that everything was precariously hanging— ready to fall on their heads.

  Among the disorder, dozens of glass jars emerged, their contents were indistinguishable tendrils in many colors suspended in transparent solutions. Rezzu moved closer to one jar and realized that the fragile little thing floated in… nothing; no solution, no liquid, or gas of any kind. Was it some type of gravitational force? In such little spaces, it didn’t make any sense.

  “Ambassador Muselet, if you’d be so kind. How many days have you been on the planet?”

  How many days indeed? The standard hours didn’t exactly correlate with Aletta’s rotation. He was mentally doing the equation when Max put a hand on his arm and answered Master Esaw. “The sun has set eleven times since they arrived.”

  That would be around fifteen standard days. It truly seemed longer.

  “I guess that is enough, considering he’s an adult.”

  Rezzu wanted to say he was very young by the usual longevity of his people, but the comment seemed childish. He simply smiled. In his face it felt more like a grimace, but he was sure it was a smile.

  Master Esaw opened a big crystal box with several compartments. Each compartment had a tray with at least a dozen slim cylinders made of different metals and with unknown symbols etched in low relief. Flutes came to mind, but they were entirely too narrow and didn’t seem to have any holes. The nine trays were arranged about the table after the box had been moved to a different counter. The old apothecary cleared his throat, clapped his hands once and then rubbed them, not as if washing them but as if he were rubbing a stick to make a fire. Rezzu had seen his uncle Sule do this while camping on one of the heavily forested moons of Mireeh.

  “REZ-zu-ki-MU-sE-let,” Master Esaw intoned with weird affectation. He stopped his rubbing and moved his hands over the trays, palms down and using circular flourishes. From the farthest tray, an argentine tube rose and moved as if guided by a magnetic force toward Master Esaw’s waiting hand. “Excellent.” He moved his glasses back to his nose and adjusted several lenses. “Alettan silver and river stone. Very light. Very nice,” he murmured, more to himself than to them, and handed the instrument to Rezzu.

  A soft, almost inaudible clicking emanated from the tube. The piece was sturdy and the weight seemed just right to Rezzu’s hand. He drew it to his ear and the ticking was similar to a clock but not quite the same. It had a truly hypnotic rhythm, and for some inexplicable reason this little, almost imperceptible sound made Rezzu very happy, almost euphoric.

  “Ambassador, if you please, point that way.” Master Esaw redirected Rezzu’s hand away from them. “And think water.”

  Before Rezzu could come up with any appropriate reasoning to question the request, he
thought ‘water’ and a jet of liquid spurted from the tip of the tube. The idea of making a mess shifted his thoughts to something to gather the water, and a bucket appeared out of thin air before any liquid was spilled. He let the tube in his hand go, and it melodically clattered as it reached the floor. The bucket full of water was floating slowly downward, and Rezzu realized that Master Esaw was using a darker but similar tube to direct it.

  Rezzu turned to look at Max, crossing his arms and not really understanding what was happening. “What is this?”

  Max inclined his head sideways and smiled, “The magic of Aletta has just embraced you, choosing a wand for you.”

  ****

  8. PRICE

  “Am I screwed or what?”

  Unos circled the bench where he sat. The lusciousness and beauty of the West Garden seemed to make fun of him. The bright sky, the fluffy clouds, the fragrance of the flowers, all conspired to make him feel like a stinking pile of shit.

  “Oh, Max. What can I do to help you?” Unos stopped in front of him.

  “No response from him?” Him was Rezzu, who had decided to ignore Max after he left Master Esaw’s wand shop five standard days ago. They had been together in this garden, and that didn’t help his mood either.

  “I have not received any communications from Captain Muselet at all.”

  Rezzu had abandoned his wand that night, and now it floated above Max’s palm. His usual silver lining approach to things attempted to cheer him up, pointing out the fact that thanks to Rezzu, Max had a quasi-surrogate wand he could use publicly in case people wondered whether he had broken another already or not.

  One could use someone else’s wand for emergencies but not for long since each one was linked to its owner by its components and the essence of the person. Max didn’t mention to Master Esaw when he called to request a wand for Rezzu that he had lost his. The wandmaster wasn’t a tattler, but there was no point in putting out there that another wand of his had gone to smithereens, especially when Max would not be able to procure a new one right away.