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  Krax drew a deep breath, looking down. “Demon device.”

  “That’s how we keep this performance ready.” Pherral ran a finger around the mushroomed head, spiraling to the hole in the center. “Nothing’s coming out until this comes off.

  Krax bucked his hips, pushing the tip of Pherral’s finger in.

  “No. That’s not how tonight is going to happen.” Pherral pulled the closures of his suit and it flew open. Quick release tabs were always worth the investment. Another round of appreciative sounds echoed through the club as Pherral stroked himself.

  “Open.” Pherral rubbed his cock against the side of Krax’s face. He needed to be enveloped in that warmth.

  Krax obeyed with not even a grunt as Pherral shoved deep. His gladiator had become quite adept at fellatio, from humble beginnings and choking to swallowing Pherral whole. Definitely worth the effort, seeing how much they both enjoyed Krax’s new skills. He pulled back rubbing the head along Krax’s lips, swollen and sensitive. Krax shivered.

  Brixton laughed. “You know what’s funny?”

  Pherral glared and redirected Krax’s curious look to where it should be, shoving his cock back in. He reached behind him, drizzling warm oil. He didn’t need to look, Krax’s face let him know he was on target.

  “You think you’ve escaped your roots and Caurentian ideas.” Brixton didn’t seem to be having any issue with Krax’s groans of pleasure, and just continued his analysis. Damn Thylacines and their focus. “But you’re just as possessive, Pherral. Just as keyed up by your carnal games.”

  Try as he might curb it, a snarl escaped Pherral as he pulled out of Krax’s mouth.

  Krax emitted a long extended groan. Pherral rubbed the oil all over the restrained body beneath him, until the cock was slick and hot. Pherral lowered himself, the thick rod of flesh parting Pherral’s ass cheeks as he slid up and down, catching ever so slightly on the rim with each pass.

  Krax growled at him, tugging on the lines restraining him, flexing, but unable to break free. “Come on.”

  Steadying Krax’s cock, Pherral sank down. One hand braced on his sternum, the other stroking his own prick. Krax. Such a glorious, fat cock. Pherral reveled in the delicious burn, a stretch so sublime. The mewls emanating from beneath him just made it sweeter. Needy and desperate, poor Krax.

  He rode until his thighs burned, using Krax to pleasure himself, and then sped up his hand.

  Krax moaned each time Pherral pulled up. The loss of Pherral’s tight warmth was driving Krax mad and there was nothing he could do about it. Pherral smiled at his torment. Krax was on the brink and eager for more. There would be more, his gladiator just had to be patient. But first, Pherral would please himself. He tugged hard, clenching around the girth of Krax’s cock.

  “Open!” he demanded, and Krax did, lips wide. The first spurt landed on his cheek, the second his mouth. Krax moaned and licked. He rest came in a stream along his neck and chest. His beautiful gladiator lay covered in his spunk.

  He pulled off Krax’s length ruthlessly, not caring about Krax’s gasp of loss. Krax’s engorged phallus swayed, the compression sleeve keeping him erect and unable to release, clearly the only thing preventing his pleasure.

  Kneeling forward and offered the tip of his cock to Krax’s lips. “Suckle.” With strong pulls, his gorgeous bound beast cleaned him and drained him. Krax’s tongue circled Pherral prick as if it weren’t enough.

  Pherral ran a hand across his cheek, feeling Krax’s devotion in more ways than one. He looked to Brixton, stripped and ready, and stepped off the platform. “All yours.”

  Brixton smiled at Krax. “Splendid.”

  Of course Krax’s was. Pherral never had any doubts about yanking him off that shithole asteroid, Delta 54.

  “We could keep him occupied for days at Stripes.” Brixton’s fingers ran over the ropes as he gently stoked the skin around them.

  Hmm… the idea merited thought. A pack of Thylacines could fuck Krax to oblivion, and what a sight that would be. Pherral might have to schedule time on a future trip.

  A small crowd assembled as Brixton mounted the table and then plunged onto Krax’s cock. Krax gasped and their audience groaned.

  Pherral bent to whisper in Krax’s ear. “Thylacines have natural lubricants, no waiting or prepping.”

  It was some point after Brixton fourth rotation while riding backwards and tugging on Krax’s oil-glossed testicles that Pherral realized that the advantages of both youth and being Thylacine were evident. Krax was swearing, rivulets of sweat glistened everywhere else that lubricant did not.

  Krax’s vulgar denouncements had turned to fervent pleas.

  “How do you want me to give it to him?” asked Brixton.

  “Rider’s choice.” Pherral smiled down at Krax. A glazed look met his.

  Brixton spun 180 degrees again and stilled, impaled on that beautiful, thick cock and lovingly rubbed his fluids all over Krax. The sweat and cum shimmered in the overhead lights like the nacre of a pearl.

  Brixton leant over to gently press a kiss Krax’s mouth. Jealousy ripped through Pherral, and his low growl filled the air. It was only their longstanding friendship that saved Brixton from an ignominious dismount

  “He’s yours, Anubis.” Brixton coaxed, instantly aware. He sat up and carefully pulled himself off Krax, then jumped to the floor.

  Pherral caressed Krax’s cheek and kissed him long and hard. Sharing and a bit of fun were fine, but Brixton needed to understand that the threesome would not be a long-term situation before feelings developed. Thylacines were surprisingly emotional at times for all their sexual proclivities. Pherral would share Krax’s body, but not his heart—that was all his and his alone until Krax decided to the contrary.

  “How bad do you want to come?” Pherral gently stroked his fingers across Krax’s swollen balls, practically bursting with need.

  “Please, Ph—Anubis.” Krax tripped over his name.

  “I’m really enjoying you wanting. Having to watch everyone else come as you are denied.” Krax’s eyes wandered the screens. The sight of other patrons enjoying his predicament did nothing to lessen his pain. Apparently, he liked torturing himself almost as much as Pherral. Which made his next decision obvious.

  “I want him covered in come,” Pherral announced to the general area.

  That was all the invitation the assembled needed. The words had barely finished before a young Feldoon jerked off over Krax’s body, started spraying him with his release. The potent aroma created a cascade effect, one after another: A Fraxian, a bonded pair of Thylacines, even an off-duty human SPV security member.

  A large male Bauman approached. He looked to Pherral for permission. There was a sudden hush as the collective group waited and watched. Pherral nodded. The Bauman mumbled in a dialect of arbordial before bathing Krax in come.

  “Close your eyes, little one,” he urged, grinning at Krax’s obedience and wide-open mouth. He shot the last of his load across Krax’s nose and mouth.

  The stream of fluid began to lessen, but Krax kept swallowing trying to get every drop the Bauman offered. Finished, the Bauman drifted away like the others, though a few were eyeing the deposits like they would be more than happy to clean Krax up, again.

  A high-pitched beep emanated from the seating. Brixton ferreted through his discarded garments to find his communit. His brow furrowed as he read the screen.

  “Problem?” asked Pherral.

  Brixton frowned. “I’m not sure, but unfortunately, I’ve got to report in.” He smiled down at Krax, who was presently drifting on a come high. There was nothing like narcotic Bauman come to end a night. “You are truly exquisite. Thank you.” Brixton gave Krax a quick kiss, and licked his cheek clean.

  Acceptable. Brixton understood.

  Krax giggled. “Tickles.”

  Yep. Definitely, high.

  “I’d be happy to explore that at a later date, too.” Brixton turned to Pherral. “I hate to fuck and run, but duty
calls. Take care and call me when you get back to SPV. Don’t make me hunt you down in the docks.”

  “I just got here.”

  Brixton looked unimpressed. “And if I hadn’t run into you?”

  “Yeah, yeah, all right. We’ll set something up for Stripes next time.”

  Brixton grinned wide. “You’re on.”

  Krax lay boneless and filthy on the table, spunk soaking into his flightsuit. His cock stood straight up, a single bead of fluid caught desperately trying to escape.

  Pherral took another sip of his Nilian Blue. Sweet and tangy, it was just the thing to clear the salt from his tongue and invigorate his body.

  He did promise to fuck Krax. But, he looked so good like this: desperate and waiting.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Horny,” Krax snorted. He stared straight up at the image of himself projected on the screen for the entire club to see.

  Shameless. Pherral loved that Krax wasn’t shy about his body or desires. Brixton was right; he did exhibit Caurentian dominus tendencies, especially with Krax. The more time they spent together, the more he expressed it. He wasn’t sure what to think about that, after all, he’d spent nearly half of his life trying to deny Caurentia and everything it stood for.

  The Sylvex shorts would have wiped clean. Pherral grimaced as he toweled off Krax. The first three towels took care of most of the Bauman’s deposit and the fourth handled the rest.

  He leaned over and kissed Krax. The distinctive sweetness of Bauman come still lingered.

  Krax’s groaned, fighting against the ropes, again.

  “Stop. Let me loosened them. Free you,” he said between sultry kisses.

  The knots were tricky to undo, the fiber had tightened from the damp and Krax’s struggles. Pherral unsheathed his whisperblade from his boot and sliced through the strands. The bonds fell.

  Krax grabbed Pherral, pulled him closer. The blade pinned between their bodies.

  “You should sheath that.”

  “Difficult from this position.”

  Krax laughed. “The blade. But, yes, that doesn’t preclude you from handling the other.” His large hand grasped Pherral’s cock, engulfing it in a warm grip.

  “Shall I take off the vise, now?” Pherral ran his fingers over the cock restraint.

  “Yes!” growled Krax. “And get rid of the infernal thing.”

  Pherral shook his head. “I don’t know about that. You have enjoyed our diversion immensely, seems premature to dispose of it.” Pherral’s fingers circled the base, unlocking the mechanism, and reversing the weave. He carefully removed it from Krax’s cock, and tucked it into his boot. “I think I’ll hold on to it for a while.”

  Krax moaned.

  “You sure you can hold off long enough for me to get my cock in you?”

  “I’ll do my b—“

  With a loud crash, a body hit the wall beside them and fell to the floor—the club host. In an adjoining booth, a Feldoon screamed. Pherral looked up. Across the club, two figures—one slighter male Fraxian and one fully adult Bauman—headed their way. One glimpse of the expressions on their faces and Pherral jumped to his feet.

  Krax clambered off the table, fastening his flightsuit. The sound was strangely loud in the suddenly quiet club. Quiet until the first weapon was raised.

  Above the screams of panicking club guests Pherral shouted an alarm and retrieved the recently sheathed whisperblade. Raising his arm, he had selected his first target when he was catapulted into the next seating alcove.

  Chapter 5

  “KRAX!” Pherral bellowed.

  Krax jerked forward as pain ripped through his chest. He looked down at the tethered claw imbedded in his flesh, tearing deeper as it closed around his clavicle. He wrapped his hand around the line, but the metal was smooth and it slid down the fibers. The tether started to retract, yanking him away from Pherral.

  Chaos filled the club. Screams echoed through the room drowning out the drums as tables were overturned and people trampled in the ensuing panic. A loud crash emanated above Krax, darts of broken glass pelting him, the screen above them had been shattered.

  “Run,” Krax yelled as another harpoon was leveled at Pherral. He could block long enough for Pherral to make a run for it, but Pherral wasn’t moving towards the door. He vaulted off the booth ledge and hung from dangling armature of the recently destroyed video pane.

  The second attacker, a Bauman, took aim at Pherral. Krax fought the line pulling him and could do nothing but watch as the trigger was squeezed. A sharp whistle cut the air just above him; a silver hilt glinted in the strobe lights as a thin line of crimson trickled down the Bauman’s throat. The behemoth gasped and toppled over, the harpoon claw shooting wide and falling in a deserted booth.

  Krax stopped fighting the tether and ran at the first attacker. He collided, sending them both to the floor.

  The Fraxian laughed, the line whizzing tight. “Fool.”

  Krax had just wrapped his hands around the idiot’s throat when a jolt of pain arced through him. Krax screamed and fell backwards, rolling away, writhing as electricity lanced through his body. Then, just as suddenly, it stopped. He could sense the Fraxian getting up, but was unable to move, his body still twitching.

  Eyes wide, wracked with aftershocks, Krax searched the room and found him. Pherral watched him from above, fingers moving toward the other boot.

  “Make a move, Anubis, and I’ll keep shocking him until his brain gives out.” The Fraxian pushed the trigger again.

  Krax roared as pain lanced through him, stronger than the first time. Pherral wrapped his legs around the pole and pulled himself upright onto the crossbeam.

  “What do you want?” demanded Pherral.

  “I don’t want anything, I’m just the messenger.” The Fraxian tugged on the tether. “You still with us, boy?”

  Krax groaned, his flesh burning with each vibration of the claw. If Krax could get up he’d rip the Fraxian’s arms off. Well, he would if the damn weapon didn’t electrocute him again.

  “Good. Now listen, both of you,” the asshole condescended. “I’m to tell you that you made a big mistake. What happened at Crater Base Delta 54 is one you’ll regret. My client, who is more friend than foe wants me to inform you that trouble is coming. Run.”

  The Fraxian cut the tether and pocketed his weapon. He turned and pushed through the last stragglers of the crowd toward the exit without giving his fallen associate a glance.

  Krax closed his eyes and willed his body to start obeying him. He opened them to the sight of a group of uniformed figures striding forward in formation, shouting positions and orders as they swept through the club. Krax could almost control his body; at least the tremors had stopped. A few shouts and overturned tables later and they were approaching Krax. Rifle phasers aimed high, they shouted for Pherral to get down, which he did with ease, slipping down the armature and landed on their table.

  One figure lifted his face guard. “Anubis, I should have known.” The young man looked down at Krax. “We need medics, The Root,” he relayed into his communicator.

  Pherral leapt off the table. “Damien, you made security detail. My, you have grown. How’s your father?”

  “Not happy to see you.”

  “You know that’s not true.” Pherral clapped his shoulder in passing and knelt beside Krax. “That was stupid, but we’ll discuss it later. You all right?”

  “Been better. Doesn’t even make the top five worst injuries.” Krax wasn’t exaggerating, but the truth was that trainers were quick about pumping drugs into fallen gladiators and transiting them into the hyperknit chambers. He couldn’t remember being in pain for this long after a fight.

  Pherral snorted softly. “Idiot.” His hands moved gently around the imbedded claw. “You’re going to need more than my handheld hyperknit for this.”

  Krax grunted.

  “We’re going to need statements from both of you.” Damien eyed the Bauman’s body focusing in on
the silver hilt, his gaze sliding back to Pherral, then his boot. “You missing anything?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Make sure you preserve genetics on that whisperblade,” Damien instructed his men.

  Krax lay on the ground as the occasional tremor wracked his body. People moved all around him, skirting him, ignoring him. They murmured amongst themselves while collecting evidence.

  “Do you know why they call it a whisperblade?” asked the one packaging and tagging the blade.

  “That’s the sound it makes slicing through flesh,” replied her partner.

  Chapter 6

  The interrogation rooms were as dreadfully dull as Pherral remembered. SPV lacked imagination in this department, all their creativity was squandered on pleasure. Not a bad choice, and obviously lucrative, but seriously, lingering odors and poorly constructed furniture were not going to make him divulge what they wanted to know. The door slammed opened, adding another dent to the battered wall, and two low level guards hauled in Krax. They shackled him to the bolted chair opposite and left.

  Krax pulled on the chains to test them. The frame creaked as he flexed, but didn’t budge.

  “Don’t bother. We’d need a plasma torch to cut them loose.” Pherral folded his hands on the table. Now where were the Altamuras?

  Krax raised a brow at him. “First hand experience?”

  “Of course.” Pherral had spent more time chained up then he’d like to admit and had developed strategies to escape from most of them. Unfortunately, SPV utilized the best alloys available and he was without his chemical volatiles. Simply put, there was nothing to do but wait.

  Krax rested his arms on the table opposite him, the chains clinking. He appeared irritated, but significantly improved.