This was the hotshot director who’d been in the crosshairs of the local crime syndicate. Rivek searched his memory for the little he’d paid attention to. Syodab Syndicate’s front company Pladon Industries had crumbled under an investigation by Global Security. Its owner had either been murdered or committed suicide before he could be brought to justice.
Some said the late Dramok Urt had been the head of the syndicate. Others claimed he’d been a patsy and the real mastermind continued to operate behind the scenes. All were glad the syndicate had been driven underground.
Too much excitement for me. Fascinating, however. He’d have to delve into the whole story now that he’d met major players in the drama.
Meanwhile, Ospar was sniping at Jol about the enhanced protection measures. “Are you going to strip-search the ceremony guests while you’re at it?”
“This ceremony is a security hell and you know it. Not everyone who belongs in a prison cell has made it there.”
Rivek broke in to smooth the ruffled feathers. “We can accommodate your needs, Nobek Jol. Four security podiums at the cavern entrances, plus a temporary surveillance system to be quietly and unobtrusively installed, approved.”
Jol’s dangerous aspect was diminished as he smiled at Ospar, turning the Nobek spectacularly handsome. For his part, Ospar sighed as if put upon. Nevertheless, he returned his clanmate’s pleased expression. The Dramok winked at Jol, who answered with a chuckle.
Rivek had a flash of understanding. He’d seen clanmates with intense relationships before, men who bickered and insulted each other, sometimes in a cruel fashion. Yet it was surface disturbance, a mere façade for a far deeper devotion than many cheerful clans possessed.
No doubt men who quarreled with such heat made love as intensely, he reflected. That stray vision earned a throb from his groin. Rivek dismissed the delicious view his imagination granted, focusing on the appointment with the tumultuous pair. Reassured by their true feelings for each other, he had to restrain more than a few chuckles as Ospar and Jol tossed insults back and forth.
* * * *
They’d flown Ospar’s new shuttle to the Temple of Life for their meeting. Jol beat Ospar in a footrace from Master Rivek’s chamber to the craft. The Nobek slid into the pilot’s chair, claiming the right to fly the sporty vessel to Itga.
It was just as well, Ospar decided. Jol tended to pilot too fast, but the Dramok’s mind kept wandering from his surroundings. He sat in the richly upholstered co-pilot’s chair, the only other seating besides the upholstered bench in the tiny cabin. Ospar smirked a little, thinking about that bench. It was able to fold down for sleep…and other activities. They’d already broken it in for the non-slumber purposes.
Jol checked security footage from the recorder he’d installed on the vessel. When the Nobek was satisfied no one had planted any bombs or sabotaged the shuttle, they took off.
They were halfway to Itga headquarters when Jol interrupted the Dramok’s silent ruminations. “I worship the sound of you not running your mouth, but it also makes me nervous when you get so quiet. What’s going on in that brain of yours?”
Ospar grinned, staring out at the mountain before them, growing ever larger on the vid screen. “I was thinking, hello, sexy priest. I might find religion.”
Jol gave him the withering look that never bothered Ospar anymore. Well, maybe it rankled him every now and then. Once a day, perhaps. “By the ancestors. We’re clanned two weeks, and you’re already on the prowl for Imdikos?”
“Why not?” Ospar hadn’t considered rounding out the clan at all. His interest in Master Rivek was purely salacious, brought on by the man’s chiseled jaw and virile masculinity. Yet if it peeved Jol to believe Ospar was considering adding another clanmate, it was too good an opportunity to miss.
“You’re lucky I put up with you. I doubt anyone else would, even a forgiving priest.” Jol flew them into Itga’s wide bay and landed the shuttle in Ospar’s usual spot.
Ospar stretched, luxuriating in the soft leather seat that fit him like a glove. He grinned at Jol, who regarded him with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t think he was gorgeous? All that hair? That tall, muscular body? Those cheekbones, that jaw? His silky-soft voice—damn, he could get me off with that alone.”
Jol snorted. “A stiff breeze against your dicks gets you off. You’re easy.”
“Obviously. I clanned you, didn’t I?”
He sure as hell had, far sooner than he’d thought he would. They’d set no time limit on their trial living-together arrangements, letting nature take its course. Ospar had imagined they’d give it at least a year before arriving at a final decision. It seemed wise to wait to discover if they could handle their tug-of-war relationship.
They’d given up near the close of summer. Both acknowledged that as often as they argued, they couldn’t stand to be apart. When Ospar’s new office at Itga had been finished, Jol had moved his desk in with him, remaining his personal bodyguard. Jol was still on the company’s payroll, but he was no longer a real member of Itga’s security hierarchy. He reported to Ospar, not to Talu.
Actually, he reported to himself. Jol was always quick to remind Ospar he’d do what he damned well wanted to where the Dramok’s safety was concerned. That very situation had triggered an argument, which in turn triggered a wild sexual romp. At the end of that, Ospar had asked Jol to be his clanmate, and Jol had said yes. Without hesitation, a fact Ospar felt damned smug about.
They were at it again, trading insult for insult, growing louder by the second.
“Ass.” The Nobek’s gaze was sharp on his clanmate.
“Prick.”
“Want me?”
“Hell, yeah.” Ospar had been waiting for the moment. He was out of his chair like a shot, straddling Jol’s legs, sitting on them, kissing his Nobek for all he was worth.
Jol growled and clutched him, his tongue parrying with Ospar’s, shoving it into the Dramok’s mouth so he could plunder at will.
Oh no, you don’t. Ospar wasn’t in the mood for foreplay. He squirmed his hand between them, grabbing hold of Jol’s crotch and finding him erect. Ospar got him harder and more eager until Jol rose and went into the cabin, carrying Ospar with him.
Jol bore Ospar to the benchseat, still folded down from the last time they’d used it. He tossed him onto its just-roomy-enough surface. The Nobek lay on Ospar, letting him feel his welcome weight as they kissed and grappled for supremacy. Kicking, clawing, trying to pin each other down, they wrestled for control.
Ospar cupped the avid lengths tenting Jol’s pants. He worked to free Jol’s cocks. The Nobek grabbed his wrist, trying to stop him—but Jol didn’t try too hard. Soon the slick shaft of Jol’s primary filled his palm, pulsing as Ospar worked him up and down. Jol groaned, his hips rocking to feed himself into Ospar’s grip.
Ospar took advantage of the opportunity to put Jol on his back. Now he was on top, a Dramok’s favorite place. The superior position fed his excitement every bit as much as the idea of sliding his own throbbing primary into the Nobek’s clenching warmth. He yanked at Jol’s waistband, pulling it down as he continued to keep his opponent and lover at bay by masturbating him.
* * * *
Jol wondered if Ospar knew he was letting him win, or if the smug prick thought perhaps he really was coming out the victor. It was a humorous idea, but unimportant when the other man’s fist worked his cock so damned well. Ospar could dominate him all day when that grip was making his entire groin spasm in pleasure.
Meanwhile, the Nobek yanked at Ospar’s clothes, wanting to see his stunning clanmate bare. Ospar was a delicious creature, toned perfectly for Jol’s tastes. Rearing up as soon as the other man’s shirt was off, Jol flicked his tongue over a stiff nipple, and his lover groaned.
It got even better when Ospar’s other hand joined in on masturbating him, treating Jol’s secondary to double the delights. “Fuck yeah,” Jol grunted, grabbing for the other man’s pants to yank them down.
&n
bsp; He nipped a path up the Dramok’s chest, gaining a mouthful of Ospar’s neck and a handful of his cocks. Because Jol had decided to let his eager clanmate top, he used only his blunt teeth to bite into the meat connecting neck to shoulder. Ospar cried out, his shafts jerking in Jol’s grip. Rough play, whether dealt or taken, never failed to excite the Dramok.
Or Jol, for that matter.
“Mother of All, I love you,” Ospar groaned as Jol lapped up his neck.
“Yeah? I know what you love,” Jol snarled, hooking his legs around his waist and tugging him down. “You love sticking your cock in me. You love riding my ass, the best ass you’ve ever had.”
“You merciless son of a bitch,” Ospar wheezed. His kiss was violent, claiming Jol with authority. Jol kissed him as hungrily, nipping the Dramok’s lips as eager need surged.
He loved Ospar too, with a ferocity that sometimes scared him. The code of the Nobek breed insisted he couldn’t speak of it, but he sure as hell could show his Dramok how he felt. Jol was always determined to leave no doubt in the other man’s mind.
He pulled on Ospar harder than ever, forcing him to lower his hips, to bring him close. Jol drew him down until the tip of the Dramok’s cock bumped his entrance.
The Nobek snarled in Ospar’s face, whipping up and down on his main cock to drive him crazy. “Go on, my Dramok. Do it. Fuck me.”
With a low roar, Ospar thrust, taking him in a single, demanding plunge. Jol yelled as the slick shaft drove against his hotspot, convulsing parts below. The heat of boiling lava filled his secondary, bubbling in a threat to overflow straight to his main cock.
Ospar ground against him, growling in a way that enthralled Jol. “My pace, you bastard.” All Dramok, all domination. Jol grabbed his shoulders and held on.
The hungry mouth fed at his, their tongues warring for supremacy as they kissed and snapped in turns. Ospar tasted of yearning, a bright, exultant flavor that couldn’t quench Jol’s hunger to devour him. With every stroke, the Nobek’s appetite for his lover grew more demanding still.
The sweet ass Jol had fucked on too many occasions to count flexed beneath the cage of the Nobek’s legs. He drew Ospar in tighter with each downstroke. Tensing, releasing, the Dramok drove with relentless power, thrilling Jol to his very soul.
The slip of Ospar’s secondary rubbed up and down the crack of Jol’s ass, while his primary plunged and plunged, the friction of its thick girth rubbing the Nobek’s cumspot with toe-tingling energy. His Dramok was inside him, melding them into one in the primal joining that would finish all too soon. It mattered not to Jol whether Ospar was in his ass or mouth, or if the reverse were happening. There was never anything so glorious as when they forged themselves into one entity, a single creature of stormy passion that lit Jol to his very fingertips.
His clanmate gripped his cocks almost as tight as his ass did when Jol used it. The excruciating sensation made his shafts heavy with desire. Jol’s entire groin was hot molten need, a brutal and gorgeous craving that weighted the whole of his gut. From the belly down, lust pounded with ruthless demand, gearing for a volcanic explosion that might destroy them both. And though Jol aimed for a glorious death, fighting for his clan or his empire, annihilation in the throes of sex with Ospar would be a welcomed end as well.
They clung, they rutted, they fucked. And in Jol’s heart, he adored and knew he was adored in return.
Climax roared with the vicious power of a caged predator at last free to obliterate. Jol roared with it. His ass convulsed, squeezing down on his clanmate’s jerking length as it filled him with liquid heat. Bestial elation ripped through his cocks. It spent the bursting weight, great eruptions that marked his lover with Jol’s scent, telling the universe that Ospar belonged to him.
Forever. Which would still not be enough. Yet it would have to do, because eternity was all Jol could have with the man who deviled and delighted him in equal measure.
In the aftermath, Jol held his Ospar tight. His clanmate lay wasted on him, and the Nobek thought back to a not-so-distant day when he’d tried to rid himself of the man. Driven crazy with frustration, he’d confronted his father Talu, had demanded he be released from the duty of guarding Ospar. Talu, with a knowing gaze, had denied Jol’s ‘request’.
How did my father realize what was happening? I believed I despised Ospar, but Talu had already figured everything out.
Jol couldn’t fathom where his sire’s wisdom had come from. Maybe someday he’d ask the old warrior.
Ospar stirred at last and lifted his head from the pillow of Jol’s chest. He smiled and blinked at his clanmate.
“Are you awake, my Dramok? Emano is going to wonder if he should cancel your afternoon appointments.”
“Isn’t it time to go home instead? I think I’ve done enough work today.”
Jol laughed and Ospar snuggled against him with a low chuckle. With the welcome feeling of his clanmate, he held him close and decided there was no hurry to go into the office quite yet.
Chapter 17
Rivek stretched long legs on the cushioned pad in the middle of his consultation space. He bent his naked torso over them. His body had a greater tendency to natural muscularity than most other men, making him somewhat bulky. His suppleness came as a surprise to those who didn’t know him well, the slabs of muscle a seeming deterrent to his immense flexibility.
He concentrated on elasticity in his tendons and ligaments. On the steady draw of his lungs. On the distant grumble and hiss of the waterfall in the cavern that was a few twists and turns from his consultation chamber. He cupped the bottoms of his feet and held the pose.
The soft rustling of robes and footfalls of those walking past his open door was so mundane as to be silent to Rivek. Yet with his attention in the moment, he sensed a stirring in the air. A hesitant kind of shuffling warned him someone had entered the room. He sat up a split second before his guest cleared his throat.
The smiling Dramok who stood in his doorway gave Rivek a rush of pleasure. But Ospar had that effect. He wore charm like a second skin, at least when he wasn’t sniping with his Nobek. Perhaps the charisma was an affectation or maybe it was his nature. In either case, the quality was impossible to ignore to when he turned it on. Rivek reacted to Ospar’s allure, as he was sure most did.
It doesn’t hurt that he is an attractive fellow to boot. Every bit as handsome as he is appealing.
Pretending the fascinating creature didn’t possess the magnetism that he did, Rivek offered him a casual smile in return. “Dramok Ospar. It is delightful to see you again.”
“But it appears that I’m interrupting. Shall I schedule an appointment?”
Rivek considered, enjoying how Ospar looked him over. Clad in clinging shorts that allowed the Imdiko to do his stretches unencumbered, he was on display for anyone who cared to observe. Ospar seemed to care a significant amount, which deepened Rivek’s satisfaction. Possibly he had a claim on charisma too. If not, plain old lust would do.
Behave. A Dramok with his wealth and appeal must have Imdikos lining up to win his affections.
I don’t crave his affections. A romp would work just fine.
Rivek dismissed his libido’s base leanings and considered his visitor. It had been only a week since he’d last seen him, at his and Jol’s clanning ceremony.
In most circumstances, the priest would have paused his stretching and meditation for anyone who dropped in unannounced. However, he’d learned quite a bit about Ospar by observing him. Not only had Rivek had the opportunity to study the Dramok at their consultation, but he’d watched him during the clanning ceremony and reception. Master Adub had still not felt altogether up to speed, so Rivek had lent his assistance for the festivities.
He’d seen enough to decide that Dramok Ospar was used to getting his way. He got what he wanted when he wanted it, through that charm he exuded. Only Jol appeared to possess some immunity to Ospar’s allure. No doubt, that was why they had so many altercations.
Rivek
was on his final pose. Thwarting the Dramok’s wish for an immediate audience, for the sake of reminding him the universe didn’t revolve around him, would be ridiculous. It was not Rivek’s place to correct Ospar’s behavior. The Imdiko released the pose and stood.
“Of course I have time to speak with you.”
Ospar licked his lips and dragged his gaze from the region of Rivek’s chest to his face. “Thank you. I could use some objective insight. Someone who will listen to my concerns with no agenda.”
Rivek headed over to the peg where his robes hung. “Such as keeping you safe? Where is the protective Nobek Jol?”
“Skulking about nearby. I asked him for some privacy so I wouldn’t have to listen to his warnings.” Ospar sounded amused rather than put-upon.
Rivek draped the first of his robes over his shoulders. “Those who love us can often impede good decisions with their caring.”
“And the fact that they just plain prefer to be obstinate.”
“A trait you tend to repay with interest,” Rivek said, teasing.
Ospar grinned. He knew he was at fault, all right. He also probably realized how attractive he was when he smirked in that mischievous, boyish manner. Yes, he got away with more than he should. Rivek supposed he should sympathize with Jol, except the Nobek seemed more than equal to Ospar’s machinations. At least Ospar was truthful, not denying he incited as many fights, if not more, than his clanmate.
“Perhaps a walk in the gardens would enhance our discussion?” Rivek suggested
Ospar beamed. “Sure. Lead and I will follow.”
Somehow, Rivek doubted Ospar often used that phrase.
The tranquility garden was located in the temple’s second-largest open-air cavern. Rivek enjoyed walking among the trees and shrubs, close to the trickling brook that ran through its center. The fragrant air was pleasant, the breeze that wafted from above, cool and pleasant.
Clan and Conscience Page 18
