His neck hurts. The thought forms slowly in his mind. There are other sensations struggling to connect and take shape as well. Harper raises his head slowly, easing the persistent ache of strained neck muscles. The effort makes him groan. Something hard and stiff circles his throat limiting his range of motion. Harper's movement sets off peculiar sounds - the creak of leather and a metallic clink.
His balance feels odd…wrong. Harper opens his eyes to a disorienting darkness. He draws a sharp breath and struggles instinctively at the disturbing sensation of falling but he isn't falling - he is gently swaying back and forth on his back. His hands are twisted behind him and bound against his bare back. His arms ache too. Something warm and pliable - leather? -- supports his shoulders. The same material cups his bare ass and holds his thighs wide apart. Lube - thick and slippery - slides along his cleft as he tries to shift his position. This is bad. Very bad. At least nothing seems to have happened to him yet. What happened? Where is he?
The last thing he remembers is ordering drinks at…where had he been? Oh, yeah…the bar…not a real bar but a little sidewalk place that served drinks to tourists. Not his usual kind of place, that's for sure, but he had been desperate to get the taste out of his mouth. The bartender had been a woman - a tall, cool brunette - who convinced him to try a mixed drink when the bar didn't have his brand of beer. What had the brunette said the drink was named? Oh, yeah, Pierpoint Piledriver. Pierpoint! That's right he'd been on the drift with Tyr to buy something...parts?
He can't remember anything after that. Not really. Vague flashes of cuddling up to…the brunette? Yeah, that's right. Soft curves and perfume. Steps. He remembers being pulled up steps. Then nothing. Nothing to explain where he is now and how he got here. Had he agreed to something, to bondage games with the brunette? Is she out there, waiting and watching for him to wake? That idea didn't account for everything, but he likes it a lot better than some of the other ideas swimming fearfully around in the back of his mind. He has to get up and find his clothes, then rendezvous with Tyr. Is he late…late enough that Tyr is looking for him? Hope curls, warm and comforting around his heart, easing the fear rapid beat. He just has to manage until Tyr finds him. He pictures Tyr stalking down the streets, hunting for him and draws courage from the image. He imagines Rommie bursting in the door with Tyr and Dylan. Surely they will come for him. His muscles ease, relaxing slightly.
"You're finally awake, Little Man?" Tyr's deep voice is soft and slightly slurred.
Wow. That was fast. The thought slides slowly along the edges of his mind. Tyr sounds close. Very close. Harper turns his head from side to side, trying to get a fix on Tyr's location. He sways disconcertingly in the air. "Tyr? Well, that figures. What are you doing here?"
"Interesting question. I don't know."
Harper raises his head. It sounds like Tyr is right in front of him. Thank the Divine that it's so dark. It would be incredibly mortifying to be spread out like a buffet in front of Tyr if the big guy could see him. Or if he is to be completely honest with himself, only mostly mortifying. His inner pessimist summons up images that range from a sneer to indifference. His inner optimist, however, is wondering fuzzily…imagining Tyr being aroused by his nakedness. His cock stirs in reaction, rising and stretching tall. It's a good thing that Tyr can't see him. "Where are we? We're still on the drift, right?"
Tyr breathes in sharply as if someone just hit him. "I have no idea. We're in…I suppose it's a dungeon of some sort."
Harper tilts his head curiously at the sound as he tries to force himself to think. Dungeon, yeah, right. His first idea must be right then…the tall brunette bartender is into bondage games and…but, wait, what is Tyr doing here if…well, maybe she picked him up too. Maybe. Right now, he doesn’t care as long as someone gets him loose. He’d love to be able to worry about this after the event rather during it. "Dungeon…Ha ha. Very funny. How 'bout turning the lights on and letting me down so we can get those parts and get back to the ship."
"I would be happy to accommodate you, but I can't do that."
"Well that's just great. Can't or won't Anasazi?" Harper shifts uneasily, determined to ignore the implications of the lube sliding coolly along his cleft. He is not going to think about that. Not right now. Maybe not ever if he is lucky today.
Tyr sighs softly. "Can't."
"Why the hell not?" Harper demands.
"I'm a bit restrained myself." Tyr's voice is turning sharp-edged with annoyance.
Oh-ho, so the brunette got Tyr too. Harper smirks, relaxing slightly. At least he isn't alone in this ridiculous situation. Odd, how the situation changed from scary and dangerous to silly and ridiculous as soon as he knew that Tyr was with him. As strong as Tyr is, the Nietzschean should be able to easily snap any average sort of restraint. They should be outta here in seconds. "Stop playing around, Anasazi. Let me down."
"Are you being intentionally irritating, Harper?"
"I do my best."
"For the last time...I can't." Tyr sounds like he is grating the words out.
"You can't be serious. You're serious?" Harper bites his lip nervously. Tyr sounds sincerely aggravated and not at all as if the Nietzschean is teasing him. "Not good. This is so bad."
There is an exasperated huff of breath from Tyr's direction. "While I agree with your assessment I must remind you that I am not the one who got us into this predicament."
"What!" Harper directs a scowl at the place where Tyr seems to be. He frowns. What's that odd metallic rattle? He wishes he could see what's going on, but considering his nakedness, maybe the darkness is for the best.
"Indeed."
"Oh, so it's my fault? Why does it have to be my fault?" Harper tilts his head, listening intently. Something sounds different about Tyr's voice…he can't quite say what exactly…there is a faint velvet huskiness, a slightly breathless quality to the deep voice despite the cranky tone.
"Because this looks to be something out of one of your deviant fantasies." Tyr growls. Had he not seen the boy earlier in a club that catered to such people? And with a…Damn the human!...if that is what Harper wants, why had the boy not approached him? All this time, he'd held back because he'd known Harper's background and thought…his jaw tightens as his gaze sweeps the room in silent challenge to the watching guards. His chest burns with rage at his Harper's unknowing exposure to their greedy gazes. His muscle coil with the urge to fight as the scents of their arousal drift to him.
His breath quickens as his stare drops to the lithe lines of the human's body. Whoever set this up knows what appeals to his people…the vulnerability of Harper's restrained body…the paleness of his creamy skin against the darkness of the leather…the blatant exposure of Harper's private secrets to his gaze. His cock doesn't care that Harper's exposure is involuntary; it arches hard and needy, quivering lustfully at Harper's every squirm. His most primal instincts don't care that Harper is his friend. Only his mind and heart ache with sadness at the tarnishing of his hopes for the future. It's almost impossible to concentrate on Harper his friend with the beautiful, compact body swaying in front of him in taunting offering.
"Well, excuse me, Mr. Über Attitude but I didn't sign up for the whips and chains tour, thank you, very much." Harper snipes, allowing his own anxiety and irritation to edge his voice. His hands flex behind his back, testing the leather cuffs. Not enough yield there to do him any good. His thighs tense, pressing against the restraints. Whoever put him here knew what they were doing. He isn't getting free unless someone releases him. Harper shivers at the thought.
"It's okay to be afraid, Harper," Tyr murmurs.
"Who says I'm afraid?" Harper snaps. He squirms and flexes, trying to find some ease, somewhere…anywhere in his bonds.
"I can smell your fear." Tyr licks his lips. His hips involuntarily tilt forward as his gaze fixes on the thick promise of Harper's cock, the fullness of the balls below, and the delicate peach shadings of the human's cleft, shimmering under the glaze of lube. If Harper doesn't stop that squirming about…
"Great. Can you see anything?" Harper stills, frowning in puzzlement. Tyr's voice is noticeably deeper, huskier than before. He has never heard Tyr speak like that…in such throaty, rich tones. Tones that make him think of the lush luxury of gourmet chocolate melting slowly in his mouth. Just how well do Nietzscheans see in the dark?
"Yes."
"Well? What do you see?" Harper demands tensely. "Can you try to be a little more helpful?"
There is a vigorous rattle of metal and then Tyr's voice, breathless. "You are in a…it appears to be a swing and I am bound near the wall in front of you."
"Must be that Nietzschean super sight. I can't see a thing."
There is a long silence then Tyr murmurs huskily, "You are blindfolded."
"Oh." Harper tenses. Oh, damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. He can feel the rush of heated color rising in his face at the realization that he is and has been completely exposed to Tyr's gaze the whole time. "I guess that would make sense, huh?"
"The room is dimly lit. There are – tools – hanging on three walls. The fourth wall is some sort of viewing area I would assume. The walls appear to be metal." Tyr saw no need to upset the human further by mentioning the guards standing watchfully around the room.
"Did you say I'm in a swing? Like a swing with chains?" Harper wriggles, swaying in the air. That did not sound good. There has to be some slack in the damn thing somewhere. There has to be. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
"The situation could be better." More forceful clinking and clanking sounds.
Harper sighs. "I suppose I'm the only one with my ass hanging out. Perfect, just frickin' perfect!"
"No. My clothes are gone as well."
Harper bites his lip at the news. This is not heading anywhere good. There is an icy chill in the pit of his stomach. The chill deepens with the knowledge that he has had thoughts about Tyr…thoughts about being with Tyr, but he hadn't been sure if he could deal with the whole Nietzschean package. Better to leave things with friendship if he couldn't deal, that was what he'd told himself until they arrived here. This drift had seemed a perfect place to find out. He'd gone into that club and selected a Nietzschean, one whose skin matched the delicious chocolate of Tyr's…the guy had even smelled a little like Tyr. They'd gone out back and he'd knelt, stroking the smooth, dark skin, swallowing the length of cock…and it had been – unsatisfying. All he could think of was how much his knees ached and how tired his mouth was and would the guy ever cum. The only way he'd managed to get the job done was to caress that dark skin and pretend that it was Tyr standing there. The only thing he'd gotten out of it was the nerve to start making plans to approach Tyr once they were both back on the ship…then this…it appalls him to think of Tyr forced to…of his idle fantasies being twisted so awfully askew. "Please tell me this is not what I think it is."
"That depends on what you think it is."
"This feels like a sex swing," Harper says slowly. He can only hope that Tyr will not ask for details on how he knows. "I mean my knees are bound. I've got a collar that's holding my head still. And my ankles are restrained. This is a whole new level of bad."
"I agree. There does appear to be some slack in your ankle restraints. You have more freedom of movement than I."
"Yeah, well, that's so I can hold on to…never mind." Harper falls silent abruptly, a blush heating his face.
"So you can hold on to what? The only thing in front of you is me." The initial puzzlement in Tyr's voice is replaced by a hoarse tone. "…Oh, I see."
"Yeah. How long have we been here, do you think?" Harper squirms fiercely, determined to get some slack in the restraints. He is not going to allow anyone to use him to force Tyr…he sets the swing into swaying wildly and brushes against something…something hot, hard and velvety. Is it what he thinks it is? And does he want to know for certain?
Tyr growls, low and guttural. "I’m not sure."
"Did I just bump into you?"
"Yes."
Harper nibbles at his lower lip, considering. Does he really want to know if what he so briefly touched is what he thinks it is? It felt so large…so very erect…so hot and plush. It felt better than any fantasy that he had entertained. His cock throbs in response to the images in his mind. "That felt like it was…ah…your…um…cock."
"It was." Tyr is barely aware of the revealing roughness of his voice hitting its deepest register. His chest rises and falls as if he has run for a long way. He can't look away from the human. Harper looks so…lickable hanging in front of him. Even under the harsh lights, his Harper's skin retains a luminous paleness that makes him think of moonlight and oceans…of sharing a private beach with the human. His gaze focuses intently on every ripple of muscle, every flex and contraction of Harper's ass as the human wriggles determinedly around…the shimmer of lube catching the light, drawing his gaze to the length of the human's cleft, to the temptation of the delicate furl…it looks so soft, so tight, so…ready. The intoxicating scent of Harper's arousal isn't helping his fast eroding control. A husky, stifled moan escapes him.
"Oh…well…sorry," Harper whispers hesitantly. He doesn't know what to say to that…to the knowledge that Tyr is hard and hot from seeing him spread open and exposed. If only the circumstances were different…Harper twists in the swing, trying again to win free.
"Harper...I..."
"Greetings gentlemen." A jovial male voice booms into the dungeon from speakers placed high on the blank wall. "I'm so glad you could join us this evening."
Harper starts at the unexpected and loud voice. He sways, again brushing against the rigid heat of Tyr's cock. Harper inhales sharply. "Yeah, well, I'd love to stay but I've got some supplies to pick up. Can I give you a rain check?"
"Most amusing, Mr. Harper. Most amusing. But I'm afraid we aren't taking rain checks today."
"Why have you brought us here?" Tyr stretches up on tiptoe to ease the strain in his shoulders from having a metal bar attached to a chain hanging from the ceiling forcing his wrists up and apart. A matching bar forces his legs apart and runs through a metal ring affixed to the metal floor. But none of the strained muscles can distract him from the hot ache throbbing in his swollen cock.
"You, Mr. Anasazi, are here because one of our clients paid us to have you here for his entertainment." The tenor voice purrs.
"And why is the boy here?" Tyr demands hoarsely.
"Mr. Harper is along to provide incentive for your cooperation."
"See, Anasazi," Harper snips. "It's not my fault that we're here."
"My apologies. The situation has not changed." Tyr stares, unwillingly enchanted by the vision of Harper spread before him like a delicious feast. His gaze returns to the pale curves of the human's ass…what would that rich skin feel under his tongue? What would Harper taste like? How many times had he teased himself with images of Harper yielding to him? But not like this, never like this…not forced, but willing and craving him. Tyr swallows heavily and looks away from the enticement swaying in front of him.
"Incentive? Hey, did you say 'incentive'?" Harper demands, his voice sharp with tension and temper. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm glad you asked that question, Mr. Harper?" The voice sounds amused. "You see your companion, Mr. Anasazi, has been terribly naughty. He's stolen a few things that don't belong to him. He's killed a few people who have families who want revenge. Mr. Anasazi must be punished and you are going to help us with that."
"I don't understand." Harper shakes his head slowly.
"It's quite simple. Mr. Anasazi has formed an attachment to you. He's probably not aware of it himself. But he has shown that he cares about your welfare."
"So?" Harper forces his voice back into neutral tones. Maybe he can talk their way out of this? Talk has always been one of his best weapons. What did the guy mean that Tyr has formed an attachment to him? So they're friends…sort of…so what?
"So, We're going to see what he will do to keep you from harm."
"Let the boy go." Tyr growls. He strains against his chains at the threat to his human. Someone has planned this; someone who knows a great deal about his people but not enough, if whoever it might be thinks to escape unscathed once he is free. Who would pay for chains and the restraint bars made to hold a Nietzschean? Who would know enough to be aware of the primal drives that would be triggered by Harper's situation? Who would know that this set-up would leave him burning with the need to claim Harper and to protect the human? "Your client wants to see me punished. Not Harper. He is of no use to you."
"That's where we disagree, Tyr. May I call you, Tyr?" The voice continues. "What are you willing to risk for a friend?"
"What do you mean?" Tyr narrows his eyes.
"It's a simple question. What are you willing to do to keep someone you care for safe?"
Tyr shakes his head, hiding his expression behind his long dreads. "I can't answer that."
"Oh, I think you can." The tenor chuckles confidently. "Harper is the one person you would risk your life to protect, isn't he?"
"No." Tyr's voice hitches. "The boy means nothing to me."
"Don't waste my time with such a transparent lie." The sound of a disdainful snort carries clearly over the speakers. "It's a matter of record, is it not, that you have risked your life for him on more than one occasion. Sort of anti-survival isn't it? That's an interesting development in a Nietzschean mercenary, don’t you think?"
Tyr scowls. He glances at the human…his human…, disturbed by the fear-fast beat of Harper's heart and the rising scent of fear. Is Harper afraid of him or their captors? He must get Harper out of here. "I'm not going to play mind games with you. Show yourself!" "Not just yet, Tyr." The voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "Look at him, Tyr. Delectable isn't he? Helpless. Submissive. Blindfolded and restrained. Suspended like ripe fruit right in front of you."
Involuntarily Tyr looks at the human. He had nothing to do while waiting for Harper to wake, but stare at the temptation swaying gently in front of him. His body has ached, hard and eager since he woke to find Harper bare and just out of reach, so provocatively displayed before him. Just that light brush of the human's ass against him almost made him lose control. "Release him. You can punish me at your leisure after he's gone."
"Perhaps I will do just that." The voice continues in amused tones. "If you will answer one question honestly."
"What is the question?"
The voice purrs softly. "What do you want to do to him, Tyr,…right…this…moment?"
Tyr squeezes his eyes shut. He wants to sink into the voluptuous heat of Harper's body. He wants to bring them both undeniable pleasure. He wants to exhaust himself with Harper and fall asleep wrapped around the human. "Nothing. I want nothing."
The voice ignores him and whispers conspiratorially. "How long have you wanted to see him like this? How long have you wanted to have him spread open and ready for you? You want him…you've wanted him since before the Magog Worldship. Why have you never acted on your desire?"
Tyr pulls hard against his restraints. He cannot convince the watchers that he does not desire Harper; not with his body giving the lie to his words. Who would know about their time on the Worldship? Who is in a position to suspect that he wants Harper? Who would care and why? "No!"
"What's he talking about, Tyr?" Harper asks softly. He raises his voice to address the hidden tenor. "What are you talking about? Tyr doesn't want me or desire me. You must be crazy."
"Games, Harper. He's playing games." Tyr responds huskily. In one thing the mysterious voice is wrong. He has desired Harper since the first time that he saw the human. Only Harper's fear of Nietzscheans had kept him from pursuing the human more aggressively. His plan had been to woo Harper slowly with friendship. Then once the human's fear of his people had eased to approach Harper with the suggestion of a more intimate relationship. Apparently the human was not so afraid of Nietzscheans as he'd thought…Tyr snarls as he remembers seeing his Harper – his! – outside that club with that, that Beta.
"Have you not noticed, Mr. Harper, how your friend seems always there when you need him? How often he's rescued you? Have you never wondered why a being so hellbent on survival continually risks his life to save yours?"
"He's my friend." Harper rasps. "He looks out for me."
"Are you truly that naïve?" The tenor croons mockingly. "Have you not noticed the soft touches, the way he caresses you, keeps his body in close proximity to yours? Have you not wondered why you often end up pinned under him? Were you Nietzschean you would be able to get his scent of arousal and desire. Were you Nietzschean you would be aware of his elevated heart rate and breathing. Even now."
"Don't listen to him, Harper. He's trying to confuse you." Tyr tosses his head back, glaring at the watching guards.
"He wants you, Harper. He wants to bury his cock inside you. Ask him. Ask him how hard he is at this very moment."
Tyr shudders, fighting for control as his gaze focuses on Harper; on the exposed length of the human's cleft. His cock trembles with need.
"Tyr?" Harper’s voice is uncertain, seeking reassurance. "This is freaking me out."
"Don't listen, Harper."
"Perhaps you need a bit of a warm up to get you in the mood, Mr. Anasazi."
Tyr turns his head sharply as a door slides open and two large Nietzschean men walk into the room. He knows what is going to happen.
"What's going on, Tyr? Who's there?" Harper tenses. His fear scent increases.
Tyr glares at the two men walking toward them, memorizing their faces. If they harm Harper, they will die. "Leave the boy out of this."
He stiffens, his bone blades extending as one of the men grabs the swing and pushes it roughly toward the center of the room, startling a surprised exclamation from Harper. The man studies Harper for a long moment and then glances at Tyr and smirks, sliding a hand down the length of the human's torso to briefly cup Harper's cock.
Tyr yanks fiercely at his chains as Harper cries out and tries to squirm away from the intrusive touch. The other man goes to one of the walls and removes a limber length of cane from its brackets. Tyr smoothes all expression from his face as the man walks closer. The man punches a button on the wall next to Tyr. The chains fastened to the rings affixed to his restraints turn him to face the plain metal wall.
"Proceed," The tenor orders.
Tyr blinks as the cane whistles through the air and slaps against his back. His muscles tense and ripple as the cane thuds across his ass and back. He bites his lip to hold back a cry as the beating continues.
"Tyr, what's happening?" Harper's voice is sharp with panic. His scent of fear is stronger. "What are they doing?"
"Nothing." Tyr gasps at the cane smacks loudly against him. "Nothing."
"They're beating you. I can hear it."
"Don't worry. It's nothing." Tyr hisses as the cane continues to fall relentlessly, laying weals over weals. He can feel the warm slide of blood over his stinging skin.
"It doesn't sound like it's nothing. It sounds like it is extremely painful." Harper's voice is grim and worried.
"It is, Mr. Harper." The tenor voice responds in cheery tones. "His back is bleeding and yet he refuses to yield."
"Stop it!" Harper yells. He flinches at the sharp whistle and loud smack echoing in the chamber; at the vivid mental image of Tyr's beautiful, flawless skin marked. He cannot allow Tyr to be hurt like this if he can prevent it. "Don't hurt him."
"No, Harper. Quiet." Tyr groans.
"I said stop it," Harper snaps furiously. It must be bad to ring those small, soft, stifled sounds from Tyr. It would be easier to endure the beating himself than to be forced to listen. He'll give them the damned floorshow if that is what it takes to stop this. "He'll give you what you want."
There is a faint rattle of chains from Tyr's direction. "Don't say that, Harper. You don’t know what you're agreeing to do."
"I don't care. Just stop beating him." Harper yells into the silence. Have they stopped? He can no longer hear that awful noise just Tyr's ragged breathing.
"Will you help Tyr give us what we want, Harper?" The tenor voice asks.
"No!" Tyr snarls as he jerks at his chains.
"Quiet, Anasazi." The tenor sniggers smugly. "I'm speaking to Harper."
"Don't answer him, Harper."
The tenor croons mockingly, "The healing power of friendship. How touching. Do you realize what we want from Mr. Anasazi, Harper?"
"What?" Harper asks quietly. In his heart, he knows what the bastards want. They want to use him to humiliate Tyr. They know him well enough to know that nothing, but Tyr's pain will force him to agree to this. Who would know him that well? Who would care about embarrassing him and Tyr? Why are they so determined to have him agree to this? "We want him to fuck you. Right here."
Harper gasps. He feels sick at this perversion of his most secret fantasies. "Tyr…"
"I won't rape him." Tyr's voice is determined. "I'll take the beating, but I won't rape him."
"Tyr," Harper whispers urgently. "They're going to beat you to death."
"Maybe not. Probably just until I lose consciousness."
No. Harper shakes his head. That is not an option here. He will do whatever he must to persuade the Nietzschean to have sex with him. Despite the circumstances, a certain smugness trickles through him at the memory of the solid cock that had brushed against him. Tyr wants him on some level. Perhaps later, if they survive this, they can build something good. "That doesn’t sound any better."
"It's better than the alternative, Harper. It's better than rape." A loud thud is followed by a barely stifled moan.
"Hey, you!" Harper snarls. He'll give them the damned agreement that they seem to want. He'll persuade Tyr to do it. "I'll help him. So stop beating him."
"I won't rape you."
"It's not rape if I want it." Harper forces a calm steadiness that he is far from feeling into his voice.
"Wha…What?" Tyr stammers hoarsely. "Harper...don't."
"Hey you!" Harper calls out. He must get Tyr to do this. He would have claimed to enjoy eating bugs or wrestling naked in the snow if that was what it took, but it is somehow worse that there is truth in his statement. He does want Tyr, and now, he suspects that Tyr wants him. This is not how he would have chosen to find out, but right now his priority must be getting through this. He will worry about what happens afterward, later. "Let's do this."
"Mr. Harper. Are you offering yourself to save this man? Let us be clear on this point. Is that what you're saying?" The tenor voice gloats.
Harper scowls. He can almost hear the oily smirk. If he ever finds out who did this…the hell with that. He will find out and they will pay dearly. "I said, 'It's not rape if I want him'…that's right, isn't it?"
"Technically, I suppose…." The tenor pretends to consider.
"No, Harper," Tyr orders. "Don't offer this. Don't do this."
Harper turns his head toward the sound of that beautiful smoky voice. "I only wish I could see you. This blindfold is a bitch."
"It's just as well."
"I'm not going to let them beat you to death."
"Move the boy into position. Turn the Kodiak around." The tenor commands. "Let's see if the human is serious or if this is just a silly bluff."
Harper bites back a gasp as strange hands grip him and shove him forward. He can feel the hot velvet length of Tyr's cock nuzzling against his cleft. He wriggles involuntarily, wanting more of it. "Hey, wait..."
"Changed your mind, Mr. Harper?" The tenor asks.
"No…no…but..."
"No excuses...move the boy…"
"Just a frickin' second, okay?!" Harper yells, turning his head toward the speakers. He shivers at the feels of Tyr's muscled torso against his thighs. Tyr's skin is so warm, so plush against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. "I've got a request first."
"We're not releasing either of you for this, so don't ask."
"Okay, fine. That was my first request. But how 'bout taking this mask off me?" Harper demands.
There is a moment of considering silence before the tenor responds, "For what purpose, human?"
"I'd...I'd just like to...you know...see what's happening."
"Very well." The voice announces after another long pause. "Remove the mask."
Tyr glares as the dark Beta who had dared touch Harper so intimately earlier moves closer. The beta's boneblades are erect and the scent of arousal is heavy on him as he stares hungrily at the human. Tyr growls menacingly. This one must die for touching what is his. The beta meets his eyes and grins tauntingly. He vaguely reminds Tyr of the Nietzschean Harper had been clinging to earlier…the same dark skin and heavy muscles. The Beta sneers and holding Tyr's gaze, he slowly reaches out, undoing the blindfold and stroking Harper's blond spikes.
"Tyr?" Harper blinks against the sudden glare of lights. He stares, completely focused on the vision before him. His lips part as he stares at the powerful chest, the dusky shimmer of Tyr's skin beneath a sheen of sweat, the hard beads of dark nipples and…his gaze lowers to the tight muscles and fine, dark curls gracing the Nietzschean's abdomen.
Tyr stares at him, amber eyes glittering hotly through a veil of braids. "Yes."
"Good to see you." Harper stares up into those glorious eyes, lost in the smoldering glow. Everything that he hopes to see is there in those eyes.
Tyr's mouth quirks into a reassuring smile. He meets Harper's wondering gaze openly, trying to show the human all the things that he cannot say here. "Despite the circumstances."
"Get on with it." The oily voice commands.
"I won't do this to you, Harper," Tyr murmurs huskily. "I won't take you like this."
"Not even if it's what I want? Not even if it will save your life?" Harper asks softly. He squirms in deliberate provocation, rubbing against the swollen cock.
Tyr moans, arching into the caress. But his gaze reflects only a grim determination as he stares into his human's eyes. He will do nothing that might diminish the emotions that he sees there. Nothing that might turn the soft, dreamy blue to the hard, coldly vicious look that he had sometimes glimpsed in Harper's eyes. "No."
"Don't be stubborn, Anasazi!" Harper urges in exasperated tone. He wiggles enticingly as he feels Tyr shudder against him. "This is such a simple thing."
"This is not how I imagined…."
"What? It’s not how you imagined what?" Harper whispers breathlessly. Has Tyr been thinking the same way that he had? Wanting. Imagining. Wondering.
Tyr drops his gaze, looking away and hiding his face behind his braids. "Never mind, Harper."
"It's not how you imagined making love with me?"
"No. It's not."
Harper smiles at the admission. This isn't how he imagined it either. "I can appreciate that…but these are extreme circumstances."
"They are that."
"Enough of this drivel!" The tenor snaps impatiently. "Position the human and let's get on with it!"
"This is going to be painful, Harper," Tyr warns as he lifts his gaze back to Harper's face. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I think they already prepped me. Go figure." Harper laughs nervously. He flinches as a stranger's dark hands settle on his shoulders, bracing him. He bites his lip as the wide head of Tyr's cock presses against him and then inside, stretching him wide. He gasps and tenses as Tyr slowly eases a little deeper.
"Did I...are you hurt?" Tyr pauses, trembling with the effort of holding still.
Harper arches against him, relaxing again. "I'm okay. I want it. I want you."
Tyr stares into the smoldering blue. It's as if they are the only two people in the universe. He is ready to drown in those blue depths. He has dreamed of Harper saying those words. The human's tightness is almost his undoing. He flexes his hips and carefully pushes deeper. "Unnnhhh..."
"You're not going to break me, Tyr. I want to feel all of you." Harper stares back into the amber eyes, letting his own gaze reflect his pleasure in Tyr's possession. This feels so good...too good. It feels as good…better than every fantasy he had entertained…to have Tyr lodged hard, thick and deep within him. His ankles and feet grip the Nietzschean's flanks, agilely pushing away then using his weight to slide back down.
"Harper!" Tyr rasps, thrusting against him.
"I want this to last."
"As do I." Tyr gasps. "But I...can't."
"Neither can I." Harper admits. He can't last long. Tyr feels too good. Harper speeds up, frantic at the bright sparkly sensation of the thick cock gliding firmly over his sweet spot as Tyr responds with a hard deep thrust. Harper squirms desperately…if only he could touch more of Tyr…if only Tyr could touch him.
"Yes! Tyr…yes!" Harper cries out as the tension in his thighs and stomach coils higher and higher until his cock quivers and pulses and the dampness of his release slides warmly over his stomach.
"Harper!" Tyr growls low and deep as he arches a final time, pressing deep inside the human. He stares down into Harper's dazed blue eyes, seeing his own pleasure and need reflected there.
In the observation booth, Dylan Hunt arches, spilling himself over his hand. He pants, leaning back against the chair, barely aware of Rommie standing behind him. She reaches over his shoulder, offering a soft handful of tissues.
"Thank you, Rommie." Dylan briskly cleans himself and fastens his pants. "Pay the host and make arrangements to have them sedated and returned to the Andromeda."
"Aye, Captain."
"Be sure to have a copy of this recording in my quarters for my viewing when I return to the ship. Store it in the file next to one of Beka." Dylan straightens his High Guard tunic and stands up. His face is flushed and his breathing still ragged.
"Of course, Dylan."
He glances through the mirror, his gaze running avidly over the angry weals striping Tyr's back and ass. He licks his lips as he eyes Harper's limp, sweat-damp body; the black leather so dark and hard against the pale skin. "That should be all the evidence I need to defuse the little mutiny they had planned."
"It should work quite well."
THE END