Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Volume 3

by Rob Rosen

  Maybe, perhaps—whatever, the guys were gone.

  And I was sorry that they were.

  I would shower and dress and drive to Casper and visit my boyfriend, Jared. At one time, I had loved Jared, but my affair with him had turned predictable and boring, and periodic visits to him had become more of a duty than a real pleasure. Jared never visited me. I seldom made contact with gay men in Riverton. It was very obvious that Jared made contact with other gay men in Casper. Our association was hardly satisfactory. But I didn’t want to scissor it. I needed someone, and Jared was someone.

  I wished that Bert and Ernie, or whatever their names were, had taken me with them. I was a law-abiding citizen, and I didn’t know what the men had done to get them in prison and what other crimes they might have committed and what they might have required me to do if I were with them. I was an accountant in Riverton, but the figures of that existence didn’t add up. Conformity and respectability seemed, at that moment, just dreary conventions.

  The connection with Bert and Ernie had been nothing more than physical, and it was one in which they had demanded and I had acceded, albeit getting some satisfaction in the process.

  My jaw was sore, and my ass ached, and my spirit was as depleted as my sexual fluids.

  I didn’t want to think about what the three of us had done together, and I didn’t want to forget, and I knew that sooner or later our screwing would turn into daydreams for my jerking off, although it wouldn’t ever be only that.

  It was time to leave sucking and fucking and the flash and fury, and I walked out the door to my car and prepared as well as I could for the shadows of reality.

  Author’s note: Wyoming is a real state, and there are in it such towns as those in this story. And in Shoshoni, there is a motel called the Desert Inn. All of these locations have been used, as may be quite evident, fictionally, and no resemblance to the truth should be inferred.

  EMISSARY

  Kenzie Mathews

  “Our orders are to guard an alien man-whore? A mind-reading parasite?”

  I blushed at the description. Lieutenant Agroyerra was obviously not the most tactful soldier in her platoon, but at least she was acknowledging me. The others in the troop continued to pretend that I wasn’t standing there before them. Humans. So predictably quick to judge and condemn. It was heartrending to be so unappreciated.

  In this part of the universe, Emissary skills are deeply valued. Without Emissary skills in intergalactic trade, negotiation, spy-craft, and interrogation, my people would have fallen prey to genocide long ago. It is a fact that conquerors will rape and enslave their victims. It is also a fact that it is harder to rape, torture, and murder a being that becomes part of you. How does one kill a creature that brings out the best in you while devouring the worst parts of your soul?

  In any case, other races seem a little still-unformed to us, humans in particular. They simply haven’t come into their full potential, and I doubt they will in my lifetime. Still, my low opinion of humans wouldn’t stop me from fulfilling the duties for which I’d been petitioned.

  But back to the case at hand.

  General Watson silenced the lieutenant’s next objection with an icy blue glare. “Your orders,” he growled as she fell back into parade stance, “are to protect the Emissary while Omega Unit rescues Colonel Jessing from the Blayling terrorists. Do you understand the mission as stated, Lieutenant?”

  “Sir, yes, sir.” Anger deepened her token response.

  The general grunted and nodded. He addressed the troops. “I take it this will not be a problem for Brava Unit?”

  All spoke in unison: “Sir, no, sir.”

  “Dismissed.” General Watson turned to me, one hand gesturing toward his office. “Emissary, if you will.”

  I bowed and followed him to the chambers. He locked the door behind us and imposed the silencer shield. I stood in lotus yield position, awaiting his pleasure.

  “You are not what I expected.” Was it a question or a statement? I nodded, responding in human manner. He poured himself a drink and retreated to his desk. “You look like us.”

  “I look human to you,” I said. “I will look Blayling to the terrorists. But they are accustomed to dealing with Emissaries, and know what to expect from me. Do not worry, though; I willingly go with humans on this mission.”

  The general drank, studying me. He was a handsome human. Short dark hair, speckled with white. Age softened his face with experience lines. The blue uniform showed off a muscular frame, kept lithe and strong, no doubt, through strict diet and strenuous exercise. He was delicious, for a human. “You are aware that your people, your government, has given us full control of you?” he said.

  “I am of peace and love. I submit completely.”

  “This is a delicate procedure.” The general continued, shaking his head. “I must ask you to play spy as well as emissary.”

  I cocked my head, trying to read him. “What do you need?”

  General Watson leaned slightly over his desk, trying to hold me with his blue ice gaze. So open to me, I thought. I released a few pheromones, sighing inward as his nostrils flared and his pupils widened into darkness. Dazed, he stumbled. “We need any information concerning the Trahaiten and Kisha Borders, the conflicts on Rosa Two and Three, the planet Aslyian.”

  With a shrug, I slipped my robe off. Naked, I stood before him, breathing deeply. His eyes would read me as a human male, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties. I shifted slightly, reading him better now that he was responding to my scent, to my probes. My skin and hair darkened to chestnut brown as my eyes widened and became blue. I grew taller, my muscles filling out my frame. I became the vision of a memory that once brought him to orgasm and shame. His hands fumbled at the crotch of his suit. His penis strained the cloth. He fidgeted as hunger roared within me.

  I knelt down before him, gently taking his trembling hands into mine.

  “I will spy for you,” I said. “What else do you need?”

  “I need to fuck your mouth,” he blurted out.

  I smiled, bowing my head. I tore his suit open with my teeth. I took his hard cock into my mouth and I sucked him, deeply, until he trembled. I took his seed, draining him fully. I left him calm and centered. I left him no longer ashamed of a memory.

  In my head swirled the complete tactical designs of the human race in their war against the Blayling. It was very valuable information to possess. So much at stake in war, after all.

  In the small carrier, the humans anxiously stirred. It was a long drift to the Blayling ship. Space is eternal. I find that both terrifying and soothing. I touched the window glass, covering up the stars. It is a fact that by the time we see their lights, those stars are dead. The twinkling lights we see are the stars’ death cries.

  “I don’t get it, Lieutenant,” one of the men said. “Is he gonna fuck all the Blayling?”

  Soldiers snickered. I pressed my face up against the cold glass. It is said that all of us contain the same genetic material as stars. Up close, space smells like metal and ice. I looked at my hands: in human form, hands are star shaped. I smiled at the irony. Humans also taste of salt and musk. I hummed, thinking of General Watson.

  “That’s enough,” Lieutenant Agroyerra growled. “Stapleton. You have a problem, you deal with it after mission completion. Until then, we’re locked and loaded, correct?”

  Another soldier took the bait. “Some mission this is. We’re babysitting while Omega gets to play rescue.”

  No, Omega would not be playing when it came to facing the Blayling during Colonel Jessing’s rescue. Omega Unit would be running, praying, and dying.

  “I am . . . ” I said to none of them in particular. They waited for me to say more. I took my time, spinning around to face them, the smell of space and stars clouding my thoughts, lulling me into a dreamy state not unlike what I render unto my lovers. “I am most willing to fuck all that I must to complete this mission.”

  Silence reign
ed for the rest of the long ride.

  The Blaylings are a tall, heavy, long-limbed race. Humans use the word troll to describe them. I don’t know what that word means, but the image that comes up in the human mind does resemble the Blayling race. As heavy and cumbersome as they appear, Blaylings move with an unexpected speed and grace. Indeed, they move constantly. They do not tire easily and they fight to the very end. As an enemy, they are formidable. The safest way to kill them is to wait until they are finally eating or fucking. At least then, they are long enough in the same spot.

  I suspect that the only reason humans and Blaylings are at war is because they both want to control the universe. Otherwise, they’d probably get along, and then the rest of us would be in trouble. In other words, it’s a good thing they are both such stupid races.

  “Christ, it smells,” one of the troop said as we followed the Blayling greeter to the assembly chamber.

  “That is because Blayling saliva has toxic properties,” I said, gesturing at the walls of the warship. “Blayling clean with their tongues. The acidic residue protects ship-metal, but leaves behind a residual poison.” I turned to smile at my human soldiers. “Blayling saliva can melt human skin, tissue, and, in large quantities, human bone. Perhaps you shouldn’t touch the walls or floor?”

  “Perhaps we won’t,” Lieutenant Agroyerra returned darkly. “It doesn’t affect you, though, does it?”

  I shrugged in human manner. “I submit willingly.”

  The assembly doors opened before us, displaying the waiting Blayling captain, officers, and crew. To human eyes, they would appear clumsy, stupid in their expression. But I read them true: I see the strength in their arms, the dark, bloody life experience in their eyes, the cunning intelligence they hide, and the harsh brutality that they barely keep in check. Blaylings fuck slowly, deep, and hard. It is a well-earned joy to be fucked by them.

  I read something else in the easy swaying stance of the Blaylings: a tense air of anticipation and hidden knowledge.

  Somehow, the Blaylings knew that the humans were trying to rescue Colonel Jessing. This was a trap. Omega Unit must be dead. How human to underestimate the enemy. For the Blaylings, this was going to be an amusing slaughter.

  I spun around to warn my group when the Blaylings opened fire from the ambushing flank behind both the human soldiers and the Blayling assembly. Some of the humans slid into secure positions to cover both sides of the attack. The core center pulled together, surrounding me until they could get me out of harm’s way. It saddened me to realize that these humans were willing to sacrifice their lives to keep me covered and safe.

  Lieutenant Agroyerra leaped forward to shield me, her laser firing carefully over my head and shoulders. I dropped to the floor, unwilling to endanger her further. A shot rang her shoulder from behind and she twisted, calmly returning fire. Another shot sliced into the side of her neck. Slowly, she reached up to stop the blood flow. Her dark eyes met mine and I reached out to stroke her face. It was a small gesture, for death was coming for her. Another shot opened her chest, followed quickly by two or three that found her belly. Her hands held her wounds as she slid farther into my lap, nearly a child now in her dying.

  A man to my left hissed in pain before his body exploded under a rain of fire. His blood splattered me, and for the first time in my life as Emissary, I wanted to scream, to cry out. Behind me, a soldier lost the top of his head, and I did finally scream, my star-like hands covering my ears. Lasers took them, then, my human soldiers, blue fire dancing along their bodies until at last only I sat there alone, unharmed, in the middle of the dead. I cried out when the Blayling came for me, my training undone in the face of horror and war. One of the Blayling stood over me, grinning, baring rows of rotting teeth. He backhanded me with his hot laser just before darkness took me.

  I came awake to violent shaking. He repeated the question that took me several moments to translate. Human speech, a stranger. He was asking me if I was a spy.

  Yes, of course. I am Emissary. We serve the greater good even when it destroys others.

  I nodded once in human manner as I tried to sit up. Thundering blackness hit my eyes, and I fought an urge to vomit. I shook my head to clear it. After a moment’s hesitation, the human helped me by leaning my back against the wall. When the world stopped spinning, I opened my eyes.

  I could only assume that this was Colonel Jessing, the man the humans had been seeking. I stared in wonderment. He was dressed, if just barely. I was naked.

  Imprisonment often thinned, broke, damaged, and mutilated a being. Colonel Jessing had not only held on during his capture, but seemed stronger for it. Beautiful as he was for a human, an inner light seemed to radiate from within him. I reached out to touch his face and he let me, although confusion ran in his green eyes as his full-lipped mouth anxiously twitched. Tiny blond hairs on his cheek and chin bristled under my hand. I ached suddenly to taste him, to run my tongue over those bristles, suck at his chin, and then kiss his full mouth. I ached suddenly to wrap my legs around him as he fucked my ass, his tongue deep in my mouth, dreaming of his cock.

  “You’re not human,” he said.

  I croaked out, “No, I am Gevarian.” I took a breath to center myself. “Your people petitioned for an Emissary to distract the Blayling while they tried to rescue you. I am Emissary.”

  “My, my,” Colonel Jessing said. “Great job then, Emissary.” At my confused look, he added, “I guess you got everyone killed?” I opened my mouth to protest and he snarled at me. “Save it.”

  He then retreated far away from me.

  They came for him next, leaving behind food and water for me. I ate quickly, shoving the pasty cold slop into my mouth, nearly drowning myself with the pitcher of water. Then I heard him screaming. I vomited up everything. When they brought him back, he growled when I came near him.

  It took me hours to convince him to drink water. He drank sparingly, his head against my chest, his trembling chin cradled in my palm, his curving torso in my lap. It would be nothing to kiss him, to lick the water drops from his mouth. I would have a moment’s feast from it and he’d gain a second of relief from me, but I resisted. And then, when I would have given in, he rolled away from my lap and lay down next to me. He was wiser than I. I stretched out next to him and stroked his back until he fell into a troubled sleep.

  It was several days before they brought us any more food or water. Not that I needed it, but Jessing suffered greatly. I knew his mouth was dry from his endless coughing. I listened to his stomach rumble like music. And so, when he finally passed out and was too far gone to fight me, I came to him and kissed him: long, hard, and wetly, so very wetly. Jessing drank what I gave him and was satisfied, finally falling into restful slumber.

  I should have sucked his cock. The mere thought of it filled me with desire. Said cock answered while he dreamed and snored. That is what I really needed, what I really wanted. Watching his sleeping face, I slid my hand in to feel his hot flesh. I stroked as his cock stiffened further, rising, thickening. Hunger threatened to overtake me. I leaned my head forward to drink more of him, just as he murmured, “Ian?”

  I stopped. Ian. I slowly removed my hand. What was I doing? I’d been thinking of my own needs, my own hunger. But to do it while he slept, when I had no idea if he was welcome to my intentions? It spoke of a darker Emissary urge. We try to control that part of us, the taking part. Usually, we are successful. Everyone wants to fuck, right? Or be fucked. I couldn’t, however, feed from a sleeping man. It was dark and unspeakable. I’d starve first.

  But there was this Ian. Darkness sang in my head. Wouldn’t Jessing love a visit from his old friend? I could be Ian. Another kiss would secure the image for me. Then, as Ian, I could fuck the man until I was full and fat. I snarled at Jessing as he lay there sleeping, completely unaware of my turmoil. I moved to the other end of the cell and sat there, angry and frustrated.

  It was a relief when they came for me.

  I shed my ro
be in the cell and followed my guards down the hall. They brought me to a room containing three other Blayling, including the captain. I spread myself across the table for fucking. They quickly filled my ass and mouth with Blayling juice. Satiated, I rolled over on my stomach, while a Blayling underling sucked come from my ass. At last I was happy. Hunger pains were no more.

  The Blayling captain smiled down on me. “I have gift for Emissary.”

  I smiled, my eyes closed. “More of your cock?”

  The underling nibbled one asscheek and then got back to licking my rosebud clean. I moaned under his intentions. I hoped that we were nowhere near done yet. I shoved my ass into his face as he tongued my hole.

  “You must finish,” the captain said. “The Gevarian Council wishes attendance.”

  I pried opened my eyes and found myself addressing a High Lord. I sat up quickly and in utter surprise as I dislodged the underling. I knew of this Lord. He was the Gevarian known as Athelen. I was either in serious trouble or in serious service. I bowed my head and waited.

  “Emissary,” Athelen purred. “I see our gifts are not wasted on you. Fair greeting.”

  I murmured back, “Fair Greeting, Lord.”

  “We have a mission, a need for one of your talents, Emissary.”

  I merely nodded.

  “If you will, Good Emissary,” he continued, “we only want you to ask questions and listen to this man the humans are seeking. Ask the human about his mission, about the human goals in this part of space. Ask and listen. Be accommodating as only Emissaries can be. Be pleasing. Gain the human’s trust and feed on him freely. Tell us everything you discover.”

  I peered at the High Lord. He smiled, waiting for an answer. Again, I nodded.

  Of course I would do as he commanded. It was a mission for a finger, a favor not asked but expected, commanded for the good of community. Our entire culture is based on this. We are unity and harmony. This also meant that I was not the only Gevarian Emissary with access to a human. If I was a finger, then there were others out there, too, working for the whole.