“You have no idea what the sight of you like this does to me.” His words came out in a growl. “If the crew wouldn’t miss you so much, I’d consider leaving you like this for several cycles.” He roamed his hands over Liam’s chiseled flanks and buttocks, causing Danverse’s arousal to grow, his cock starting to leak. Without warning, he grasped a handful of auburn hair and pulled Liam’s head into an awkward angle as he hissed in his ear.
“But we’re not here for pleasure, are we, boy?” Danverse put as much menace into his voice as possible; Liam shivered in spite of the room’s warmth.
In one practiced movement, Danverse’s sleeping shorts landed on the other side of the room. Leading with his erection, he walked to the open storage, reached inside, and produced a coiled length of tightly braided leather.
“You’re here over the blood you’ve spilled. Nothing will ever make that right.” Danverse snarled as he allowed the braid to unwrap down to the floor, keeping only the thick black handle for himself. He stood surveying his prey, muscles going taut as he prepared to strike, his controlled breaths deepening in heat.
Liam yelped as the sudden hiss and crack left a deep red welt across his back. Two more searing strikes of the whip brought suppressed screams from his tight lips as he hung from the chains around his wrists and neck.
“The dead can’t speak for themselves, but I know what you’ve done.”
Another hard strike tore a forced cry from Liam. Sweat had already broken out in a thick sheen over his flesh, highlighting his glorious muscles. His strained shoulders pulsed with the series of quick, tight breaths he used to control himself between strikes. Danverse paused.
“If you need to cry out, go ahead. No one can hear you.”
The next stroke was hard, and Danverse gave thanks for the privacy field to contain Liam’s scream. Liam began to shake as lines of blood mixed with his sweat. Two more strikes punished his legs and buttocks. Danverse could hear Liam trying to restrain the emotions that were clawing their way out. This was nothing new. He’d seen it all before.
“I know what you need, boy.”
Hiss. Crack. Scream.
“You need to let it out.”
Hiss. Crack. Scream.
“You need to let it go.”
Hiss. Crack. Scream.
Liam struggled to stay balanced. Unable to place his feet firmly on the floor, he swayed limply from the chains. A shudder ran through his tortured anatomy as the dominant touch of Danverse’s hand stroked his head and neck and found its way into the sweat-soaked hair of his chest. Danverse cupped Liam’s hardened nipple in his palm, rubbing in slow, tight circles.
Danverse spoke firmly to be heard over Liam’s heaving breaths. “You can’t change the past. We all did things we regret during the war. You need to release it.” He moved his hand down the solid stomach and found Liam’s swollen sex. “In more ways than one.” Danverse gave a brutal grip to the steel-hard column, causing Liam to gasp and try to hide his face behind his suspended arm.
“I know you need this, boy.” He released Liam and took several steps back. “You’re here to be punished. I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to hurt you so you can’t think of what you’ve done. There is no safeword. I’m sorry it has to be this way, but an exorcism is never painless.”
Those were the last words spoken before the leather weapon truly came alive.
Danverse lost track of how many times the bullwhip blistered lines in Liam’s flesh. It made Liam wail, bleeding and sobbing into the soundproofed room. Danverse struck the giant marionette like a sadistic artist possessed, his own hard member leaking glistening streams down its full length and heavy sac. He watched his charge closely as Liam teetered on the brink, his cries shifting into tortured moans. It was all about waiting for the right moment. It needed to happen soon; his own control was beginning to fray. Liam was almost there. With one last strike, Danverse saw the shift in Liam’s countenance; the way his buttocks and hips flexed forward, the final precipice.
He dropped the whip and strode up to Liam, spitting into his palm and wetting his own flesh. Wrapping his brawny arms around Liam’s head and chest, he thrust his slickened cock inside Liam, burying himself to the base in a single stroke.
A new kind of gasp escaped Liam as Danverse claimed him; Liam’s passage spasmed at the intrusion and the quaking pressure on his rigid organ nearly brought the captain over the edge, but he held back. As satisfying as the sensation was, his own pleasure came second. Liam was here for a reason. Danverse understood that under the sobs and shame, Liam had a need to be broken. Pulling most of the way out before thrusting forward, he aimed his cock for maximum effect. No stranger to Liam’s body, he knew Liam was near the end.
Still crying and grunting like an animal, Liam found the strength to push back into each thrust. Every time, his volume and movements grew more and more out of control. So Danverse pounded him even harder.
Liam shattered. His orgasm tore free to the sound of exhausted, harried cries. Pearlescent streaks painted the wall high enough that Danverse could see the dripping lines even with Liam’s bulk obstructing his view. He continued his merciless rhythm for almost a minute until Liam’s plateau began to fall and Danverse allowed himself to roar, filling Liam’s channel with his own release, his arms tightening on Liam in surges with his own spasms.
As soon as he regained control of his body, Danverse carefully extracted himself. Holding Liam firmly with one arm, he unbuckled the straps around his wrists and neck. Long, thick rivulets of semen dripped down Liam’s thighs, his muscles incapable of stemming the flow. Liam’s head fell back on Danverse’s shoulder and his arms sagged to his sides; he was barely holding up his own weight. His heaving sobs had faded into exhausted whimpers.
“That’s a good boy.” Danverse placed soft kisses along Liam’s temple and stroked his chest. With a practiced hand, he turned Liam, who proceeded to curl forward and bury his ragged face into his superior’s neck and shoulder. The captain’s warm arms provided firm support as he sought to soothe Liam’s heaving breaths.
Shifting his weight, Danverse led Liam into his private lavatory, keeping his arms around his broken charge. Over the sink, he slid the mirrored panel open, and pulled his personal medkit out onto the counter. He opened the case with one hand and drew out a small, worn metal oblong with a few protruding buttons that fit into the palm of his hand.
With careful steps, Danverse maneuvered the two of them into the shower stall. He pulled Liam close, ignoring the blood and sweat still seeping down his back, as he kissed the side of his head once again.
“Shower on. Soft. Thirty-seven degrees Celsius.” A cascade of water washed over the pair. Danverse turned Liam around so he had access to his wounded back. He pressed a button on the device he carried, and an amber glow warmed the end.
He ran the device over the welts and lesions one by one, watching the marks fade and the flesh knit together. Under close observation, faint lines showed the remnants of earlier sessions to a knowing eye. The gentle shower washed away the blood as each wound was repaired. When the water ran clear, he turned off the device and traded it for the soap, carefully lathering Liam. With silent tenderness, Danverse washed the salt from every square centimeter of his friend’s skin. Liam made no more than soft whimpers as he floated in blissful half awareness, the only time he found true peace.
Once the shower was complete, Danverse dried them both with a blue square of hyperabsorbent fabric and led them back into the main room.
“Water. Cool.” The drink dispensed, and then he placed the glass to Liam’s lips. “Drink. You need this. Slowly.” Once Liam had his fill, Danverse finished the glass and dropped it into the washer/recycler. Then he led Liam to the bed, the covers still pulled back from earlier.
“Get in. I’ll wake you when we’re close to docking.”
Liam climbed into the large bed, facing the wall, with Danverse following him. He wrapped his strong arms around Liam, caressing the furred abdomen w
hile pressing his chest into Liam’s back to comfort him. Danverse commanded the lights off and plunged the room into darkness as he relaxed.
He waited long minutes, taking in the sergeant’s scent as his breathing leveled and Liam fell into a deep sleep. Once he was convinced Liam wouldn’t awaken, he softly kissed the back of his head.
Whispering into the quiet of the still-soundproofed room, Danverse ran a hand through his hair as he settled into his pillow. “Damn it, Liam. Why do we keep doing this to each other?”
RUSHED FOOTSTEPS THUNDERED in the still night air. Stopping for a moment on the walkway, he looked back at the sumptuous house he was leaving, excited and anxious. As he hesitated, he took in the texture of his hooded cloak with his fingers like a security blanket.
The hooded man’s gaze circled as if this was his first real chance to view his surroundings. A palatial mansion of metal and stone loomed in one direction and a massive, elaborate gate ended the walkway in the other. Rows of decorative trees manicured into perfect shapes lined the grounds as far as he could see.
Nervous, he turned first one way and then the other. With a resolute breath, he clutched the bag over his shoulder and strode for the exit. There wasn’t much time. With a tentative hand, he touched the gate and it sprang open. The electronic locks had been disengaged.
Stepping out, he surveyed the quiet street. The black vehicle he had been escorted in was no longer here. Only a dirty yellow transport sat along the curb with its lights on and engine running. Sturdy but unkempt, the vehicle looked out of place amongst the affluence of this neighborhood. He understood the feeling. It was perfect.
The window slid open, and the driver stuck his head out. He was older, common and working class, but that was unimportant to the hooded man right then.
“Are you my fare to the spaceport?” The driver’s voice had all the grace of road gravel.
The hooded man couldn’t stop looking around warily. “Yes.”
“Well, get in, already.” The passenger door levered open. “I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes. If this wasn’t paid for up front, I’d be gone by now.”
The hooded man quickly climbed in. The seats were made from cheap fabric and well weathered. Odd smells came to his nose, and he was thankful this was a one-way trip. With a soft shudder, the transport lifted from the ground and glided down the road.
“You going anywhere special?” the driver asked.
“Please, just drive.”
As a passenger without an escort for the first time in years, he couldn’t help rubbing his hands together with a nervous twitch, unable to calm himself. Scenery flashing by the speeding vehicle sought to entrance him but only succeeded in making him more agitated. Everything around him was alien; he had no concept of where he was. That was nothing new, though. How many times had he ridden in darkened vehicles, unaware of the path he was taking?
He caught sight of the driver in the mirror and noticed the man trying to get a look at his hidden face. He pulled on the edge of the hood to conceal himself better.
“I would appreciate it if you watch where you are driving.” He hadn’t raised his voice, but it was full of warning. It surprised him how easy it was—he was unaccustomed to asserting himself in public. Reluctantly, the driver focused forward, grumbling under his breath.
He hoped the driver couldn’t see his hands. In his discomfort, he couldn’t hold them still. Splaying them out wide and then closing them into fists over and over, he couldn’t stop looking at them. Were they stained? Were they covered in blood? In the night, it was impossible to tell. All he knew was that he needed distance from the mansion.
“How long will it take to get to the spaceport?”
“Spaceport Alpha is about an hour away.”
The hooded man nodded in the dark. “Thank you.”
He settled back into the dubious seat and tried to get comfortable. The plan was in motion, and he couldn’t arrive at the spaceport soon enough.
Chapter Two
THE HOODED MAN tugged at his worn leather cloak as he stepped out of the restroom. He had run his hands through the sanitizer at least four times. Although they looked fine when he turned them over to inspect, he still felt unclean.
Luxoria Spaceport Alpha was a sprawling center of commerce, and he felt dwarfed by it. Travelers marched through the concourse in all directions, performing some chaotic ballet that he didn’t feel a part of. How could you be alone surrounded by so many people?
In spite of his size and strength, he felt very small and uneducated. The whole facility confused him, and it was unwise to ask for help. He needed to keep himself secret. How would he find his way in all of this?
A tall stranger walking over to an unusual kiosk a few meters from where he was sitting caught his attention. The man asked the object for directions, and a map appeared on its surface. He waited for the man to leave and cautiously stepped forward to the kiosk, taking a look around before facing the device.
Leaning forward, he asked his tentative question. “Where would I find the Santa Claus?”
Even though he’d just seen how the device worked, he still gave a start as the surface came to life.
A pretty, yet artificial voice spilled out of the kiosk. “The cargo-class vessel Santa Claus is scheduled to land at bay Alpha Gamma One Four. Boarding of passengers will commence in thirty-two hours and twenty-three minutes.”
Holographic text and a map marked the location. From what he could tell, he was at the starting dot and the pulsating arrow told the direction. A quick scan of the area indicated the graphics matched the basic area he was standing in. This was good. He could follow this.
A few hours went by as he explored the station and found the landing bay for future reference. He attempted to stay quiet and unassuming, a relatively easy thing among the multitudes coming and going. Mere moments before two men in uniforms appeared from around the corner, he ducked into a small shop entrance. They never even noticed him. Even so, he kept looking over his shoulder, expecting to find his security escort, but there was no one there. Before long, he had retraced his steps back to the information kiosk.
“I need supplies. Men’s grooming. Clothing.” He paused for a moment. “And paper. Where can I find real paper?”
“All of these items can be found at Star’s Department Store in the market district.” A map image followed the kiosk’s response, and he committed it to memory.
The shop was easy to find, the storefront larger by far than most he walked past. It took some work and more time than he wanted, but he located the things he was looking for. It was tempting to continue, but he felt leaving the shop and searching out a secluded place to wait would be a better option.
Following another customer, he found an available cashier, a middle-aged woman with a pleasant manner. As he watched, she ran his items over the scanner in the counter and read the total that appeared on her monitor.
“Will you be paying with an ID scan today?” she asked.
A chill ran down his spine at the thought. “No. No ID scan.” He hoped he hadn’t reacted too quickly.
A rush of panic began eating into his chest. He wasn’t sure what he should do next; he had so little experience in this. It would be disastrous if she became suspicious and he attracted attention.
“Wait. I have this.” His hands began to shake as he dug into his bag and pulled out a small card. It was translucent, with filament circuitry running along the surface in elegant patterns.
“A currency card? Of course, we can use that.” Her voice was very helpful and warm, something else he was unaccustomed to. “Do you know how to use it?”
Realizing he was just standing still, he looked around and shook his head no.
“Touch it to here.” She smiled and pulled out a data pad, extending it across the counter for him. Carefully, he touched the card to the pad, and it responded with an electronic chime. She gathered his purchases and handed him the package. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
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“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He could feel her genuine concern. A vague remembrance of his mother came forward. She might have been like this if she had the chance. “You look a little unraveled.”
He admonished himself for losing his composure. Years of training seemed wasted if his practiced resolve could be fractured by this. He had endured far worse treatment with no visible effects over the years. Find your center. With a deep breath, a stoic calm came over him. It was a facade, but that was necessary. This was not the time to be unnerved.
“I am fine. But thank you for all your help.” He bowed and left the store with a calm step.
Once he was back into the milling crowd, he could feel the edgy discomfort beginning to creep in. Everything around him was so foreign it strained his ability to find his center. He needed a quiet place to wait out the next step in the plan—preferably, someplace with a cup of tea and something to eat. Across the way, he spotted another information kiosk. Feeling more confident, this time he walked right up to the device.
“I need a restaurant that serves Jahrling tea.”
“Checking menus with Jahrling tea… Café Aroma on deck four.” Directions appeared, making the location easy for him to find. The restaurant seemed remote in regard to the rest of the market district. It would be easy to stay in that area until it was time.
Perfect. A nice, secluded place to wait for passenger boarding to begin. Twenty-eight hours and counting.
ONCE THE AUTOPILOT engaged, the station’s homing beacon guided the incoming cargo vessel. The sturdy craft shuddered as it slowed to the designated landing pad at bay Alpha Gamma One Four and came to a halt. Vents opened along the bulkhead, releasing dense plumes of steam as the massive weight settled into itself. Liam stood sentinel at the exit hatch’s viewport. The ship’s engines powered down and the port’s deckhands came out to greet the Santa Claus’s crew.
The Luxorian Fugitive Page 2
