Maat Read online

  Pherral rolled his eyes and ignored Krax’s chuckle.

  Chapter 3

  “I don’t suppose whisperblades were on that list?” Krax asked.

  There were rules Pherral broke without a thought, but more often than not, Pherral found ways around rules. Undoubtedly, why SPV security and management allowed him to operate here. Pherral grinned. He was practically bouncing through the station corridors. Sure… Krax was the one suffering cabin fever.

  “Unbelievable, but no. They keep adding to it, and no one has seen fit to address that oversight, as yet.”

  “Seems negligent considering the extent of items detailed,” Krax observed.

  Or SPV was more concerned with slapping Pherral’s wrist than restricting him. The lackluster performance of the customs guard gave the impression that Pherral was well ensconced in SPV and barring a political conflict that embroiled the station that the blind eye would continue.

  Pherral hummed, pulling Krax clear of the transport track as it began to sing on approach. Krax noticed he was doing that more, physically manipulating him. Not that he really minded. The introduction to Pherral’s friend had not gone well, but Krax was unfamiliar with the hand gesture. It was frustrating to admit how much he didn’t know. Had he ever known? He clearly had knowledge from before Delta 54 because he knew about the significance of Anubis to Pherral. He just didn’t know why. He needed to blend into Pherral’s shadow while he conducted his affairs. He had to be more observant. He didn’t think Pherral would abandon him here, but he also didn’t want to make things more difficult either.

  “Right over there.” Pherral strode down a dimly lit corridor. Krax followed, just in time to see him taking a sharp turn.

  Not bigger than the average cleansing unit, the vestibule was a barely large enough for one individual. Krax lurked in the entry as Pherral scanned one of his tattoos. The screen lit up and Pherral pulled Krax in right as the panel slid shut. Cramped, he angled his body in the corner as Pherral pulled a chip from his boot. The same one he’d taken off the Bauman on Delta 54. A tray ejected silently, and Pherral placed the chip on it. Another scan ran, the sensor moving back and forth, and then the tray closed.

  The screen displayed a message that Krax couldn’t read. It was written in a form he’d never seen and looked more like water droplets than a language. Pherral scanned a different tattoo and the screen went blank. The panel opened again, and Pherral squeezed out before him.

  “Now that the issue of our previous job is complete, how should we spend our gains? Food, fantasy or fixing up?”

  Pherral was already on the move. Krax quickened his step to catch up, trailing him through corridors until they entered a hub as wide as five ship lengths, buzzing with activity. It was the exchange between different sections of the station. The ceiling lifted here, soaring decks overhead to look out at the wormhole. It shimmered like a bubble in the black empty of space, rings of blue light surrounding the red glow pulsating from the Ares nebula on the other end. When they were coming through, it was only a few twinkling stars ripping through the inky flat of space as streamers of colored light streaked past them. But the view looking back? Spectacular. Certainly had the barren surroundings of Crater Base Delta 54 beat.

  Krax had been so afraid to leave that Pherral practically dragged him onto the Aureus. It wasn’t like he’d wanted to stay, but he couldn’t imagine where else he could go or what he’d do. Here, this was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and it never would have happened without Pherral.

  A hand waved in front of his face. Pherral wore an amused smile. “No thoughts? Fine, let’s go see about your wardrobe. As fond as I am of those shorts, I imagine you would like something less restrictive.”

  That was plan Krax could get behind. “Something that didn’t tattoo metal stripes across my dick would be nice.”

  Pherral snorted. “Naked was good.”

  Krax had gotten use to the brevity and limitations of the garment, but the pain he could do without. He was pretty sure Pherral got a kick out of trying to elicit sexual responses just for that purpose; it was one reason why he’d spent most of the journey naked. That, and it was just convenient for enticing Pherral away from the command station.

  “As much as I enjoy the simplicity, I think some stations will think differently.”

  Pherral pouted. He really was a brat. “If you insist, but we’re keeping those for future endeavors.”

  “As long as you wear yours,” Krax agreed. He’d do almost anything to get Pherral back in that suit. Few things were as utterly perfect as Pherral in his Sylvex. He was just one long lean gleam, and absolutely luscious looking.

  Krax never owned more than two or three things, and it sufficed. That was not the way Pherral operated. They were seated in a private viewing room and a parade of people brought out armloads of garments. After the initial faux pas of catering to Pherral, who corrected them, the original showing was sent back and ensembles suited to Krax’s size were brought out.

  No models, but they held up the clothes for them to see. Krax didn’t know what to do, but Pherral demonstrated no hesitation. He immediately called out three outfits and sent back the rest, asking for additional selections that were similar.

  Krax stripped down. The gasps of two models made him smile. Pherral merely glared over at the one seemingly overwhelmed and hyperventilating.

  “Bauman?”

  Pherral laughed at Krax’s frown. He wasn’t even close to the size of a Bauman, in any dimension, though from the trajectory of their glances Krax was pretty sure they were referring to his phallus more than anything else.

  “No,” answered Pherral.

  A sound of disappointment came from behind Krax. “Not baby Bauman?”

  A pair of undergarments were thrust towards him. He grabbed them and pulled them on. They were definitely more comfortable than his shorts, but, if possible, less decent looking. The sheer white material clung to him and hid nothing. Krax swung his hips. It did keep everything in place nicely, the compression ensuring nothing moved independently.

  “Very nice,” cooed Pherral. “I want three hands of these in my palette.”

  “You have your own palette?” asked Krax.

  “Of course. Makes the entire process faster.” Pherral threw a pair of silver trousers at him. “Put those on.”

  Third outfit in and Krax felt another vibration. He could feel communication alerts coming into Pherral’s device as he checked the fit of his trousers. Straddling Krax’s leg, the unit was pressed against his calf, vibrating. Oblivious to it, Pherral continued his inspection. The material tugged as he made his way around Krax’s body.

  “Spread your legs. I want to verify mobility and fabric rebound.” Pherral sat back on his heels.

  Krax lunged left.

  “Hold it.” Pherral pulled at the taut seams. The material held, molded to Krax’s body. He ran his hands along the seams, testing. “How does it feel?”

  “Good.”

  “Just good?” One hand moved up and cradled Krax’s testicles.

  A loud sigh emanated from one of their attendants. They still hadn’t gotten over their disappointment when Pherral had pushed aside their offers of help to do his own fit verifications.

  Krax smiled. “Better.”

  “Better than what?” Pherral pulled gently on them, tugging.

  Krax spread wider and pulled his leg back, dislodging the hand, and then lunged right. “Than having metal teeth digging into my flesh.”

  “You really didn’t like it?”

  “I like being with you in them, but not the shorts alone.”

  Pherral circled Krax and pulled at the central seam, tracing it down between the globes of his ass, before he crawled through Krax’s legs, and finally, stood up.

  “I guess we should make sure these don’t have the same problem.” Pherral grabbed hold of his cock and started stroking him.

  It didn’t take much for Krax’s cock to go from curious to eager,
though the moans around them made him want to laugh. “This might be an activity best indulged in later.”

  “Oh, no. You need comfort and I’m going to verify these clothes suit.”

  “Pain is too much like work.” Which it totally was. Krax identified pain with his past gladiatorial work.

  “Maybe I can find a pain that reminds you of nothing, but me.”

  Krax snorted. “That would be my ass.”

  “You do like it pounded.” The hand dropped away. “Squat.”

  Krax dropped down in front of Pherral.

  “Any discomfort?”

  “No.” The fabric stretched with his erection.

  “Excellent. Up,” Pherral urged, and then turned Krax around.

  He was facing the assembled attendants. Their eyes were riveted on the obvious bulge distorting the garment. If he were a timid sort, then he’d be embarrassed. Also, he probably wouldn’t be with Pherral. He wouldn’t know circumspect if it slapped him.

  “Bend over, hands on your knees.”

  Pherral stepped up, rubbing against him, the hard length of his erection prodding Krax’s ass. Pushing hard against the pliable material.

  “How’s that?”

  “Good.”

  “Still comfortable?”

  “Other than horny? Yeah.”

  Pherral chuckled, and kept grinding against Krax’s ass. “Shall I fuck you now or later?”

  Krax watched the eager faces around them holding their breaths. Too bad for them. They’d be disappointed since he was having too much fun. “Later.”

  A chorus of groans rang out.

  “I want five pairs of these pants. Three in black, one silver, and one red—the shades in my palette,” demanded Pherral.

  The attendants nodded, three sped off to collect the items ordered while the other two awaited further instruction.

  Five shops and twelve people catering to their every murmur later, Krax was wearing a black flightsuit woven with titanium reinforcements. While several bundles of purchases were being directly delivered to Aureus. Krax had tried to argue that he didn’t require so much, but Pherral had other ideas. Except for footgear, Krax didn’t care what Pherral thought he needed and watched him dictate orders. But boots, Krax demanded the pair he selected. Eventually, it was easier to just say yes, and he’d pay Pherral back later. He smiled as his new boots squeaked on the alloy flooring. It was comical how Pherral glared at them every few meters.

  “They just need to break in,” Krax reassured him.

  “I’ll send them back and get the pair I originally wanted you to have.”

  “But these are perfect, and comfortable.”

  “They’re ridiculous. No shoes should make that noise—ever.”

  If Krax weren’t enjoying himself so much he’d admit the boots were loud, but there was something amusing about Pherral being so distracted by them that Krax couldn’t.

  Chapter 4

  The Root was Bauman central on SPV 7Z-218. While relatively rare in the known galaxies, Baumen had a tendency to congregate in certain locations and this glitzy club anchoring a corner of the Pleasure District was one. Brightly lit and featuring an anti-grav stage, it fueled some of the more energetic exploits available. Add in the irresistible draw of Bauman pheromones and it was a crush of people looking to let go and get off.

  Pherral nearly walked into Krax who stopped dead in his tracks, enthralled. On the dais there were two Feldoonae, and the performance was stunning. They were enticing, seductively entwined and moved with an inherent grace. Pherral was impressed with both their tail flexibility and control. If the crowd was any judge, it was one recessive gene that should make a comeback.

  Their host drew them deeper into the club. The booths here were larger, the tables wider, and the crowd less inhibited. As Pherral had requested, they were seated in the viewing enclave. The barriers were lower so as not to impede one’s ability to watch other guests and large screens on the ceiling above each booth displayed the occupants.

  Watching the flex of Krax’s ass as he reached for their beverages definitely brought other things to mind. Pherral was regretting the hasty decision to remedy Krax’s limited wardrobe. While his new flightsuit was an engineering marvel, it wasn’t easy to access. And he didn’t plan on waiting for Brixton to start. Pherral took both glasses of murky blue liquid from Krax and placed them on the ledge above them, keeping the lower surfaces clear.

  “I thought you were thirsty.”

  “Oh, I am.” Pherral pulled Krax down to a seat and launched himself onto Krax’s lap, trapping him. Krax grunted, but wrapped an arm around him, ensuring Pherral stayed put.

  “Feel like playing?” Krax asked.

  The small smile that adorned Krax’s face made Pherral melt. So strong and patient, Krax could have been order made for him. Pherral knew that his attention went from zero to all, and that it was overwhelming for most. But not Krax, he always seemed to be in sync with him.

  “Oh, yes.” He caressed Krax’s broad cheekbones and ran his fingers over the softly furred scalp; Krax leaned into it. Still too short, but it looked like it might curl when it got longer. How gorgeous would that be, a long mane of curling hair. Krax leaned into Pherral’s touch.

  Pherral bent forward until his lips just brushed Krax’s. “I might have distractions that take me away, but I always want you,” he whispered, licking his way in.

  Krax eagerly opened for him and tightened his hold, pulling Pherral close. Their tongues met, sweet and warm. Pherral clenched his thighs, anchoring himself, and sucked on Krax. Krax groaned, the vibrations echoing through Pherral’s body.

  His fingers found the suit catch at Krax’s throat and pulled at the tabs, opening them to the waist. He ducked his head and suckled on one of Krax’s nipples. Krax bucked beneath him as his teeth plied the flesh, pulling it taut.

  “A menace,” Krax growled. “Always starting something when you know others will interrupt us.”

  It was true. Pherral smirked, then bit the flesh.

  A round of appreciative noises erupted from the booths around them when Pherral yanked down the Krax’s suit, grabbing hold of his hard prick and pulling it free of the fabric. Eyes were riveted on the screen above them.

  “They like that,” Pherral whispered. “If they only knew just how good it is.” He made sure to sit back, giving a perfect view to the club.

  Krax was enjoying himself, not hiding or furtive in least. He moaned and bucked up seeking greater friction.

  “Always hungry, aren’t you.”

  “For this? Always.” Krax grunted.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Pherral glanced around. The room was full of people, many willing to join in with just the slightest invitation. “Do you want to fuck or be fucked? Or both?”

  He hadn’t planned out the evening. At some point, he figured Brixton would join them. Did he want his gladiator getting all the long overdue fucking he deserved? Not often had he seen a male as large as Krax take to being bent over and enjoy being penetrated, but he took it like a champion. So tempting. Or should he tease him? Both choices had their merits.

  “Part of me wants to strap you face down on this table and invite the section to enjoy your ass.” Pherral thought out loud, and Krax’s cock gave a little spurt of precome. “Oh you like that idea? Maybe I should deny your hungry hole and let them ride you until they get their fill.”

  Krax was shaking his head, hips pushing up and down.

  Pherral made up his mind. After indulging Krax during the journey here, something slightly different was in order and he had just the idea to torment him.

  “Get up.” He slapped Krax’s thigh. “It’s time to play.” He pulled Krax’s testicles free as well, leaving him otherwise clothed. He urged Krax to lie down on the platform. “You were born to be a service stud, not the mare you so desperately wish.”

  Pherral tightened the ropes. “I don’t want you naked. Might give someone the idea that there is more on offering.
” He double-checked them, running his hands over Krax’s inner thighs, pulled wide with the woven manacles on his wrists keeping them in place.

  Pherral let his finger drift down, following the curves of hard flesh until he reached the juncture of Krax’s legs. He delved into the crevasse, pushing the fabric in and circling his finger around the sensitive flesh through Krax’s flightsuit. Krax’s ring clenched in anticipation, trying to grasp at what wasn’t there.

  “When you’re all rung out, sweaty and hard from being ridden, I’m going fuck that hole until you can’t come anymore.”

  Krax moaned with each tug of Pherral’s hand, panting slightly. Simply gorgeous.

  Pherral ignored the desperate look Krax gave him. “So needy, but it’s going to have to wait. Let’s get you saddle up.”

  “Am I interrupting?”

  Pherral unfolded himself, releasing his quarry with a pop to greet Brixton. “Is that even possible, here?” He kept a hand on the thick rod of Krax’s flesh.

  Brixton eyed them. A gleam of interest lay there.

  The Root was filled with the sounds of pulsating Fraxian drums and orgasms. The patrons were each in one of three stages: about to fuck, fucking, or sated from fucking. Brixton was no stranger to the Pleasure District. Pherral had been pulled into a daisy chain the first time they met at Stripes.

  He continued to jack Krax’s cock, bouncing up and down on the thick thighs that tensed every time Krax tried thrust up.

  “I assume you’re joining us.”

  “Whatever your new partner is up for I’m happy to oblige,” Brixton answered.

  Pherral pulled roughly on Krax’s cock. “Are you up for it?”

  Krax growled an affirmative.

  “Might make a caninoid of him, yet. But, as the newest pack member his place tonight is to serve.”

  Pherral waved down a Root attendant. He took a few moments perusing all the accessories on offer to find the right one. Perfect. A compression sleeve that grew tighter the more engorged the wearer became. He slid it over Krax’s phallus, tugging it down over the bulbous head to cover the stalk. Gliding the weave into alignment it began to shrink. The slick threads decreased the friction from Pherral’s stroking.