Summary: Harper must adjust to life without Tyr.

Warning:  "I'm into the group thing."  Reader discretion is advised.  Parental guidance suggested. Adult language and situations.  Nudity, Graphic & Gratuitous sexual situations, some nonconsensual sexual scenes, graphic scenes of alternative sexual behaviors.
 
 

Admiral Telemachus Rhade stalks into the enlisted men’s sparring arena.  Droplets of rain glitter in his black hair and on the shoulders of his black uniform jacket.   He pauses, running a casual glance over the rings and the men in them.  Mostly Nietzscheans at this hour but a few humans were in some of the rings and the occasional pair of sterile Nietzschean females.

A small crowd wanders around the different rings, silently evaluating skills but occasionally murmuring approval of a particularly good strike.  A balcony circles three walls of the room.  Nietzschean women roam it, softly talking to each other and carefully studying the men below, hoping to spot a choice mate before he has moved high enough to have wives already. A scattering of officers stand on the balcony, perch in the bleachers or roam the rings, searching for promising candidates to add to their staffs or crews.

Rhade heads toward the bleachers.  He edges around a ring where two young Nietzschean males are circling.  They appear fit enough but seem hesitant to actually attack. Perhaps one of them is setting the other one up; he tilts his head, watching closely. No. Both are still flashing showy moves that have little practical use and keeping a careful distance from each other.  No heart for the fight.  He’d rather have the humans in the next ring over at his back in a fight; at least neither of them is hesitating. A low murmur of disgust is circling the crowd.  Rhade shakes his head...Betas!

“Rhade!” A familiar voice calls over the thuds, grunts and yells of sparring pairs.

He glances around and spots the other three Nietzschean Admirals of Terazed sitting together at the top of the bleachers, framed by the large window running across the room.  Carson’s gold-blonde head gleams brightly against the black clouds roiling outside.  A beige tee shirt clings to Carson’s chest in a way that has two Nietzschean women on the balcony opposite them, eyeing him in speculation.  No joy for them there, Carson already has four wives, Rhade thinks with a smile.  And when Carson isn’t with his wives, he is keeping company with Ironwood.  The two of them had been a pair since their days at the Academy.

Ironwood is sitting next to Carson, as usual, his dark head bent close.  His white tee shirt emphasizes the richness of his copper skin and the darkness of his short hair.  His large hands move in graceful, expressive gestures as he talks to Carson.  His long legs are outlined by black sweatpants as he leans back with his legs crossed at the ankle.

Lee turns and smiles, a flash of white teeth against dark skin.  He raises his hand beckoning Telemachus over, “Rhade – what happened?  Didn’t they let you go home today?”

Rhade climbs the risers quickly and drops down in the space next to Lee.  He runs a thoughtful eye over the snug cling of Lee’s brown exercise clothes.  The shade emphasized the gold-bronze tones in Lee’s dark skin.  Hmmm.  Who is Lee displaying for?  Rhade glances curiously at the balcony and sees a small woman with luscious dark chocolate skin covertly watching Lee.  “I just got away.”

“Anything interesting happen? There must be something. You stood us up.” Carson raises an eyebrow.  His green eyes are curious as he looks at Rhade. The friends met whenever they could to work out in the weight room or spar in the officer’s section.  Afterwards they sometimes visited the enlisted sparring arena to keep an eye out for potential officer material.

Parts of his orders are secret but the rest he can speak about.  Rhade sighs.  “I’m going to be leaving Terazed for awhile.  The Conclave has something that they want me to take care of.”

“Oh?  What?” Ironwood frowns.

Rhade’s glance skims over the three interested faces turned to him. “Dylan Hunt.”

“I can see why.” Carson nods. “It’s about time the Conclave did something about him.”

“I don’t envy that assignment.”  Lee shrugs.  He glances quickly at the balcony and then away.  The small woman is still watching him.  Her dark eyes are bolder on him now.

“He could be an influential person; a Terazed politician’s wet dream but as a subordinate…” Ironwood shakes his head.

“Yes. He’s an odd one.  He refused the opportunity to head the New Commonwealth and claims that he wants only to be the Captain of the Andromeda Ascendant.”  Lee leans back against the window and stretches his long legs out, displaying his lean, muscular frame to advantage.  “He says he wants to serve the Commonwealth but he acts as if he is an independent player.”

“Renegade is more like it.”  Carson adjusts the gauntlet on one hard forearm.  His fingers tap thoughtfully against the thick leather. “He seems to have a problem following orders.”

“That’s putting it mildly.  The man appears to have no respect for authority.  In fact he sees himself as the only authority in the Known Worlds.” Ironwood shrugs.  His hand lightly, discreetly brushes Carson hard thigh. “That’s what I hear.”

Carson tilts his head inquiringly.  His wide shoulder presses lightly against Ironwood. “Is Hunt going to meet an unfortunate accident then?”

“Really, Carson, someone would think that I was a hired assassin instead of a military officer, the way you talk.” Rhade narrows his eyes in warning.  Not all of the members of the Conclave were inclined to be so pragmatic about such things. “Hunt has value as a spokesman for the Commonwealth.  The Conclave merely wants me to attempt to…dissuade him from any unfortunate actions.”

Lee shakes his head sadly.  His leaf brown eyes dance with amusement. “Poor Rhade.  I note the use of the word ‘dissuade’ rather than ‘command.’”

“It may come to taking command in the end.  For now, the Conclave wants me to evaluate Hunt and try to contain him until they reach a decision regarding him.”  Rhade shrugs.  The Conclave also felt that his being a genetic reincarnation of Hunt’s favorite first officer would incline Hunt to listen to him.  The Progenitor felt that the same characteristic would distract Hunt and keep the Captain off balance.  From what he saw of Hunt the last time the man visited Terazed, he would have to agree with both assessments of Hunt’s probable reaction to him.  Just as long as Hunt did not want more from him.  All of his…personal attentions are reserved by the Progenitor’s order for another.

Ironwood sighs.  “I don’t like the sound of it.  It seems a very vague and open-ended sort of mission but if the Conclave orders it…”

“It’s not only the Conclave,” Rhade lowers his voice, “the Progenitor also has laid a task on me.”

“When did you meet with him?  He was here so briefly.” Ironwood leans forward eager for any news of the Progenitor.

“I’m still annoyed with you about that, Rhade.” Carson runs a hand through his golden hair.  His green eyes are openly envious. “I’ve always heard that he prefers blondes then he comes to Terazed and who does he favor with his attentions but you.”

Rhade grins.  It had been an honor to pit his biochemistry against Tyr’s.  The encounter had left him sore, proud and smugly certain that he had pleased.  Now he is even more certain that he pleased.  He had expected increased opportunities to arise from the encounter but…being ordered to provide comfort to a kludge, even if the kludge is Second Consort…Rhade purses his lips thoughtfully.  Not exactly the advancement he’d expected.  He’s never been with a kludge.  Were they different?

“Come on.  You can’t stop there.”  Lee pokes his shoulder.  Ironwood and Carson lean closer.

“I’ve been ordered to…comfort one of his consorts.” Rhade replies quietly.  Have any of the others been with a kludge?  One of the reasons that they met was to pool useful information and advance each other’s careers and relatives…within reason, of course.  Still, his having influence with the Second Consort might benefit them in the future so they would have no reason to withhold useful information.

Carson’s green eyes light with glee.  He sniggers. “Charlemagne?  I’ve heard about him.  That’s one assignment you’re welcome to.”

“What do you mean?”  Rhade frowns.  He had paid close attention to the First Consort’s political moves just as he listened for news of what the First Wife was doing but he had given less attention to gossip about their personal preferences since he doubted that he would ever come into either’s orbit. But now, things were different.  He had the honor of a few nights in the Progenitor’s bed and being selected to comfort a Consort…even if the Consort is a kludge…is a possible path to power and advantage.  The First Consort and First Wife were likely to take a certain notice of him now.

Carson leans against Ironwood and grins. “All I can say is you are in for a hot time in more ways than one.”

“A hot time?” Lee asks. His head tilts at a curious angle. “Meaning?”

Ironwood laughs.  “Charlemagne likes to play.”

“What’s the problem with that?”  Lee glances at the balcony and offers a sensual smile to the woman watching him.

Carson lowers his voice and leans over. “Charlemagne enjoys special toys…things like hot candle wax and cock rings.”

“You’re kidding.”  Lee blinks.

“No.  He is particularly fond of nipple clamps.” Ironwood slips his hand under the hem of Carson’s tee shirt, his fingers glide softly over the small of Carson’s back. “He likes it rough.  Very rough.”

Hmmm. The kludge is sounding much better.  Unless it also favored…what is he going to do if it wanted…Rhade runs his fingers through his hair.  He has no interest in such toys.  His skin flinches from the idea of anyone trickling hot wax over sensitive areas.  He can only be grateful that he was not selected for the First Consort’s attention then.  “It’s not Charlemagne.  I’m supposed to aid and comfort the other one.”

“The other one?  The kludge consort?”  Ironwood laughs loudly.

“Ironwood, that’s not very helpful.”  Carson gives a mock stern stare but his lips are twitching.  He assumes an air of grave seriousness and turns toward Telemachus, “We’re all here to help, aren’t we?  Now, Rhade, have you ever been intimate with a kludge?”

Rhade glowers at him. “No.  I suppose you have?”

“Unfortunately, no.  I’ve never done a kludge.”  Carson’s expression shifts to one of somber regret but his green eyes gleam with mocking amusement.  He glances at the others.  “While we’re holding an inquiry into the subject, have either of you…?”

Definitely not.” Ironwood snorts disdainfully.

“Ah, Lee?”  Carson’s eyes widen.  “I can’t help but notice that you are not jumping in with a denial?”

Rhade looks hopefully at the man sitting next to him.  He would have thought that of them all, Carson was the one most likely to have experimented with kludges.  This was an unexpected piece of good fortune.  Lee is less likely to give him advice designed to be mischievous. “Lee?”

“Come on, Lee, tell all.  How was it?” Ironwood asks, plainly intrigued and curious despite his professed distaste for kludges.

“It was nothing, really.  It was a long time ago, okay?  We all experiment when we’re young.  I was…curious.”  Lee blushes.

“That’s not really telling us much.” Ironwood shifts closer to Carson. “How’s that going to help poor Rhade?”

Lee glances at Rhade, “Look, they aren’t much different from us.  Just be careful.”

“Careful?” Rhade raises a dubious eyebrow.  “Careful of what?  Careful how?”

Lee sighs, clearly reluctant to provide more details. “They’re delicate compared to us.  They damage easily…so be careful with it.”

Carson laughs and leans against Ironwood.  “Yeah, Rhade.  Don’t break the new consort.”

“The Progenitor is a big guy and Charlemagne isn’t exactly small either.  The new consort is probably a big, strapping type.”  Ironwood grins at Rhade.  “You shouldn’t have any trouble with it.”

“I’ve got a flexi with his image on it.” Rhade says smugly.  None of the others have seen the Second Consort’s image.  He can almost taste their curiosity as he slowly reaches into his jacket and removes the flexi, offering it to the others.  “Harper isn’t a big man.”

The others bend eagerly over the flexi, studying the image.  Carson looks up with a grin.  “Interesting hair on him.  He does look very…breakable.”

“You better be careful with that one.” Ironwood hands the flexi back.  His grin takes on a malicious edge.  “Maybe you better let it be on top.”

Rhade stiffens.  Yielding to the Progenitor is one thing but permitting a kludge to top him is something else entirely.  The Progenitor is the only male that he has given that privilege to.  His gaze narrows on Ironwood and Carson as he briefly wonders which of them tops in their encounters.  “I’m an Alpha.”

“This is the Second Consort we’re talking about, Rhade.”  Ironwood smirks.  “It will have more privileges than most.”

“I will not yield to a…kludge.” Rhade’s lips quirk over the word.  The Progenitor would not expect him to yield to his kludge consort, surely.  However, it is not something that had been discussed in their encounter.  The Progenitor had only instructed Rhade to give his consort everything it required.  What if it demanded…no, he will not yield.

Lee pats his shoulder encouragingly.  “Look at it this way, the kludge probably won’t be very demanding or take up much of your time.”

Carson nods.  He slides a casual arm over Ironwood’s shoulders. “That’s right.  You should have plenty of time for your other business.  Now if you had to do Charlemagne, you probably wouldn’t have made it out of bed for days.  You won’t have that problem with this one.”

Ironwood tilts his head in encouragement as Carson’s fingers stroke his nape. “And it should be easy enough to manage the Second Consort.  You shouldn’t have any problems with a kludge.   It’ll be easy to please too.  Just think of the opportunities open to you with influence over it.  Just pat it on the head a few times and give it a little praise.  Fuck it every so often.  Nothing to managing it, I’m sure. You’ll see.  This will be the easiest assignment that you ever had.”

“Yeah. Most kludges are docile.” Lee adds as he peers over Rhade’s shoulder at the small human smiling on the flexi.  “This one looks very docile.  Simply let it know who’s boss and you should be able to forget it’s there.

Rhade looks at the flexi again.  His dark eyes are doubtful.  Somehow, he can’t see the Progenitor choosing someone meek and docile as even a casual lover much less as Consort or Wife.  After all, just look at Charlemagne.  From all accounts, brilliant, resourceful and very, very dangerous.  The First Wife has a similar reputation.  “Harper is an engineering genius.  So he’s intelligent…brilliant.  How docile can Harper be if the Progenitor chose him as his second consort?”

“Some kludges can show intelligence, I’m sure.  But brilliant? That’s a stretch, isn’t it?”  Ironwood steals another glance at the flexi.

Lee frowns thoughtfully as he continues to study the image. “Actually, some of them can be quite clever.”

Ironwood shrugs. “The Progenitor probably wanted a change from Charlemagne.  That one is so high maintenance. I heard about the last person sent to provide comfort for him.  Poor guy has not been the same.”

“Yes, Rhade.  The human will be no problem compared to the Jaguar.  Count yourself lucky.  You’ll have plenty of time to control Hunt.”  Carson stretches and leans back.  He glances briefly over his shoulder at the sudden rapid splatter of hard rain against the window.

Rhade stares down at the image.  The human looks small and frail – worrisomely so.  The Progenitor had mentioned a weakened immune system as well.  What had attracted the Progenitor to such a fragile creature?  “We’ll see how it works out.”

“When are you scheduled to leave?” Lee asks absently as his gaze goes to the woman leaning on the balcony.

“Two days from now.”

&&&&

“Son of a bitch!”  Harper hisses as his screwdriver slips, gouging his hand.  He tosses the offending tool back on his workbench and presses the hem of his tee shirt against his hand.  Stuff like that rarely happened to him but lately, it seems like every time he turns around, he is scratching, poking, jabbing or zapping himself.  He had deliberately buried himself in his work and assorted projects since Tyr left.  Then that damned surrogate had arrived.  Harper wipes the trickle of blood from his hand. At least the long scratch is shallow enough that he won’t have to take it to Trance.

“Harper?” Rommie pokes her head around the doorway of Machine Shop Seven.

Harper gives her a grumpy look. “What?”

She walks into the room and studies him.  “Perhaps you should rest.  Take it easy for a while.  You aren’t my only engineer any longer.”

Harper sighs.  That’s true enough.  Since the crew of Terazed High Guard wannabees joined the ship, he had the advantage of a technical staff to order about.  It was nice not to have to see to everything personally.  He could hole up in his quarters for a week and proclaim himself sick if he wanted to. “I may not be your only engineer, Rom Doll but I’m still your best engineer.”

Rommie smiles at him.  “Definitely the best, Harper and I want to keep you that way so go rest.”

“Alright.  In a little while.”  Harper picks up the screwdriver again.

“Harper,” Rommie’s voice is stern.  “Do I need to get Dylan to order you to rest?”

“No.  I don’t want any grief from Dylan.”  Harper scowls.  Dylan had been endlessly conciliatory and concerned since Tyr’s abrupt departure.  Especially after he had taken to tossing out anti-Tyr comments.  The suggestion to make such distancing comments had been Tyr’s but the bitterness that gave genuine emotion to the comments was real.  He still can’t believe that Tyr had gone and left him in a situation where he has to let some strange Nietzschean get up close and personal with him.

Rommie nods.  “Good. Then go to your quarters and sleep.”

“What’s up with your ‘shadow’?”  Harper asks. He glowers at the black clad Nietzschean easing into the room behind Rommie.  The darkly handsome Nietzschean offers a slow, sensual smile and eyes him avidly.  A silver, stylized bear paw is pinned to the black shirt.

Rommie runs a glance over the tools and parts spread out on the workbench. “Dylan requested that I give Lieutenant Commander Rhade a tour of the ship.  He was interested in the engineering section which is why we’re here.”

“Hello, Harper.” The voice is a rich, throaty growl.  Rhade takes a step closer, his dark stare never leaving the small human.

“What do you want?” Harper’s scowl deepens.  Great! Just fricking great! Telemachus Rhade better known as ‘Beefcake on the hoof’.  And the last person that he wants to see.  He doesn’t want Tyr’s pre-packaged, Progenitor approved substitute.  He wants Tyr and only Tyr.

“Harper!” Rommie frowns at him.  “Be nice to our new crewman.”

“That’s alright, Rommie.” Rhade replies smoothly.  He edges closer, his dark gaze sweeping thoughtfully over Harper. “I’m sure Harper is going to have some adjustments to make to get used to another Nietzschean so soon after being betrayed by Anasazi.”

“Just stay away from me, okay?”  The Harper accepts no substitutes.  He isn’t feeling that bad or desperate yet but the newest crewmember keeps drifting casually around him like a circling shark – waiting.

“Dylan wants us to make Rhade welcome.”  Rommie frowns as Harper fidgets with the screwdriver.

Harper sighs and pitches the screwdriver back.  If he stays here and Rommie leaves, that damned Nietzschean will be oozing around in here, trying to make nice.  Well, he can fix that and give Rhade no openings to talk privately.  Harper turns a flirtatious smile on Rommie.   “Alright, Rom Doll.  I’ll play nice with the Nietzschean.  And if my favorite girl will walk me to my quarters, I’ll even grab some zees.”

“I’ll be happy to do that, Harper.”  Rommie nods in approval as Harper gets up and heads for the door.   The Nietzschean slants him a disapproving look and Harper gives him a cold, hard stare in return.

&&&
 

 Things had been surprisingly and suspiciously easy so far.  Both the Progenitor and the Conclave should be pleased with him.  He had succeeded in gaining an officer’s position on the ship and joining the select Command Deck level crew. He had expected more resistance from Dylan, considering the Captain’s complicated relationship with his ancestor, Gaheris, but Dylan seemed pleased to see him.  He had expected suspicion again with his ridiculous story of being busted down from Admiral to Lieutenant Commander but Hunt had not appeared to doubt the tale. Indeed, the Captain sought his company and seemed willing to listen to any advice that he offered.  Dylan had even defied Tri-Lorn to keep him onboard and taken the further step of liberating him when Tri-Lorn succeeded in arresting him.

If only the other kludge was so easily pleased. Telemachus Rhade strides briskly down the brightly lit corridors, considering what to try next with the stubborn little human.  The Progenitor would be most displeased at his conspicuous lack of success in that area.   Considering the time lapse between the Progenitor’s departure and his arrival, he had rather expected the kludge to pounce on him and demand his immediate services but he had hardly seen the Second Consort except when they were both on duty and surrounded by other crew.  Then when he had been arrested by Tri-Lorn, he had been certain that on his return to the Andromeda that the Second Consort would demand him and he had not been looking forward to allowing some needy kludge to crawl all over him and having to attempt to calm and comfort the creature but there had been no summons.

Since then he had hardly caught a glimpse of the Second Consort.  If anything the human seemed to be actively avoiding him.  One morning he had finally managed to corner the Second Consort alone in the mess.  And what had the human done but promptly called an invitation out to Beka as she walked by the room.  The Second Consort had quickly finished breakfast, watching him with sardonic eyes as he tried to balance between flirting enough with Beka to win her good opinion but not enough that she would expect more than talk from him.  She had given him little chance to exchange any comments with the Second Consort before Harper left him alone with her.

Crew gossip had revealed that Harper spent a lot time in the various machine shops but the human had proven decidedly elusive, spreading his time among the different shops in a random pattern.  Yesterday he had managed to track the human to Machine Shop Seven only to find Harper talking to Rommie.  He knew that the human had noted him but instead of issuing any orders or invitations, the human had ignored him and continued talking to the A.I. until he had left.

Today he is determined to approach the Second Consort and succeed.  The first effects of withdrawal must be worsening.  Surely the human will welcome the opportunity to find relief from the effects.  He is carefully dressed to display in a black shirt that clings to his muscles and tight black pants that make it clear what he has to offer.  The silver bear paw hangs from a silver chain and glows softly against the dark fabric of his shirt.

The human is not in Machine Shop Seven.  He hastily backtracks to Machine Shops One through Six.  No sign of the Second Consort. Hmmm.  Rhade stalks on through Shops Eight, Nine and Ten.  He pauses near Eleven.  Yes.  Here.  He has made a point of noting the Second Consort’s scent.  A most pleasant scent actually. Rhade deepens the seductive notes of his pheromones and walks into the Machine Shop. “Greetings.”

The Second Consort glances up from his worktable and scowls fiercely.   There are violet shadows below the blue eyes.  His face is thinner and paler. “Who, the fuck, are you supposed to be?”

The human knows who he is.  Why is the Second Consort so resistant to exercising the rights and privileges of rank? Why is the human denying himself both pleasure and relief? Rhade increases his pheromones and eases closer, lowering his voice to a seductive purr. “I was told you would be expecting me.”

“Were you?”  Harper snaps.  The blue eyes glitter with temper as he stares briefly at the bear paw gleaming against the black shirt. “Who told you this?”

Rhade leans against the table, careful to place himself in easy touching distance and lounge in a position that displays the strong lines of his body. He eyes the compactly muscled body, wondering what it will feel like under his. “A mutual…associate.”

The Second Consort stares from the flexis in his shaking hand to the array of tools, circuits, chips and wires spread across the table.  Aside from a single, quick, sidelong glance, he carefully does not look at Rhade displayed form. “I don’t know anyone who would know you. Now, get out of my face.”

Rhade increases his pheromones still more and stretches languidly setting off a slow ripple of muscles.  Hmmm.  That move wins another quick sidelong look from the Consort.  Rhade leans closer and breathes in, sorting out the scents.  The heat in those blue eyes is not all anger.  Good.  The Progenitor would not have chosen him for Harper if Tyr had not thought that the human would desire him and be pleased by him but evidence that the Second Consort is attracted is reassuring after such evasiveness.

So much for the grateful, docile kludge that his colleagues had predicted but he is finding the Second Consort much more interesting and intriguing than the pathetic creature that his colleagues imagined.  Harper is proving stubborn and surprisingly difficult. The human should be nearing the edge of his endurance.  By now, the Second Consort should be very susceptible and practically beg him to fuck it.  To his surprise, he is beginning to harden and rise at the image. “I have been sent to…comfort…”

The last word provokes a particularly ferocious glare from the human. “How am I supposed to get any work done with you lurking around all the time?  Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Second Consort, I really think…”  Rhade begins huskily.

“Are you deaf?  Get the fuck out of my face!”  Harper snarls furiously.  The pale, trembling hands clench into fists.

Rhade inclines his head and pushes away from the worktable.  “As you wish, Second Consort.”

Now what?  Rhade strolls back down the corridors.  The human clearly needs what he can give so why the refusal?  Perhaps he should try again later when the kludge was off duty.  Perhaps he should approach the human in its quarters.  Yes. That makes sense.  The human should feel more comfortable and in control there.  And if he times it correctly, he can take the human off guard.

The more he sees of this human, the better he feels about the personal aspects of this assignment.  The human is more attractive than the flexi image.  Even while suffering from the effects of withdrawal, the Second Consort radiates an intriguing energy and passion. And the human’s scent…most pleasing.  What will that spiky blond hair feel like and the smooth, pale skin?  He is growing increasingly curious about such matters and the Second Consort’s elusiveness is triggering all sorts of predatory instincts within him.

The Consort’s resistance is needless and futile but he likes the display of loyalty, the refusal to consider him and the Progenitor as interchangeable sources of relief.  Perhaps as the Second Consort learns to know him better…the Consort will value him as well.  That would be good if the Consort is known to prefer him for those times when it is away from the Progenitor.  That could lead to closer contact with the Progenitor and to more opportunities for power and influence.

Several hours later, Rhade stops just outside Harper’s quarters and takes a deep breath.  It is in the middle of the Second Consort’s sleep cycle.  Perhaps in the confusion of a sudden wakening, he can give the human what is needed before Harper becomes fully awake.  He doesn’t even want to consider the Progenitor’s reaction if this situation goes on much longer and the Second Consort is harmed by it.

Rhade presses the panel requesting entry.  He can hear stumbling and crashing noises along with muffle curses.  The door slides open.

The Second Consort sways in front him, blinking at him with huge, dazed eyes.  Shivers run through his muscles, drawing Rhade’s attention to the pleasing curves and angles of the human’s bare chest and wide shoulders.  The Second Consort is bare except for dark navy boxers.  The human takes a deep breath of pheromones and his pale face suddenly lights up with pleasure. “Tyr? You came back.”

Rhade wraps his arms securely around the small human as Harper sways and presses against him, nuzzling his chest.  Rhade easily lifts the human and carries the Second Consort inside. He looks around at all the circuitry and tools scattered on the floor.  More signs of disorientation.  The human must be worse off than he thought.  Rhade heads toward the bedroom, asking softly, “Are you unwell?”

“Don’t feel so good…need you.”  Harper gasps as he clutches at Rhade’s shoulders.  He scatters ardent kisses over the Nietzschean’s throat.  “I missed you so much, Tyr.”

“I’m not the Pro…”  Rhade is silenced as Harper’s lips cover his, spreading his mouth open.  Oooh…Rhade growls throatily and begins kissing the human back, his tongue glides enticingly over the human’s velvety coolness.  Harper tastes delicious and the human’s relative coolness is highly erotic.  No wonder the Progenitor wanted this one.  This duty will be a pleasure if he can convince the human to accept him.

“Shhh…”  Harper squirms artfully down his body to kneel at his feet.  “You’re back.  I need you.  I need you so bad, Tyr.”

Rhade gasps as Harper’s nimble fingers swiftly open his pants and settle over his hardening cock.  His hands settle in the silky hair as Harper lavishes kisses and licks on his cock, encouraging it to full hardness. Rhade tries again to make things clear to the confused, disorientated human. “I’m not…”

“Quiet, you’re ready for me…admit it. I can’t wait to taste you.”

Ummmm. Rhade growls as the cool mouth closes over his hot cock.  His fingers slide through Harper’s hair as the human works greedily and skillfully over him.  Rhade thrusts into the delightful damp coolness; his thighs and stomach are hard with rapidly growing tension.  He cries out as velvet tongue and sharp teeth are added to the other sensations.  The human has a most talented mouth. Perhaps this is why the Progenitor chose Harper.  Rhade pants, his breathing harsh and rapid as Harper increases the strength and pace of the exquisite pull on him. Rhade groans loudly as he spills himself into Harper’s mouth.  There are worse ways to serve the Progenitor.

“So good, Tyr.” Harper allows the lax cock to slip from his lips and leans heavily against Rhade’s legs.  A cool hand slides up Rhade’s hard thigh to cup the curve of his ass.  “Come to bed.”

Rhade raises his eyebrows.  The Second Consort expects him to sleep with it?  Well, he could lie there with the human until it fell asleep.  He can increase his pheromones while he is there.  Make sure the human gets a good dose.  It shouldn’t not take long for his biochemistry to take effect.  Rhade picks the human up and settles the two of them into the bed. The human should return to normal within a short time or whatever passed for normal for it. And to be honest, he would not object to having that wonderful mouth on him again should the Second Consort feel so inclined to have him that way.

Harper snuggles into the curve of Rhade’s body.  Telemachus looks down at it in the dim light.  It is an appealing little human.  The hair is soft despite the aggressive bristle of spikes; the warm blondeness surprisingly enticing.  The silken, coolness of that pale skin; the slide of muscles beneath…that velvet mouth and that scent…the human’s arousal scent is quite…intoxicating.  Add that to the eager, ardent attentions.  Perhaps the Progenitor enjoyed protecting and petting it.  Rhade smiles as he strokes the human’s back.  He won’t mind fucking it.  He is even beginning to look forward with anticipation to sinking into that ass, wondering what it will be like.

Harper stirs sleepily.  His cool hand slides up Rhade’s chest to touch his chin and then his short hair.  The human jerks bolt upright and stares down at him.  The blue eyes are wide and distressed. “Who the fuck are you and what the hell are you doing in my bed!”

Rhade goes very still, offering nothing that could be taken as threat.  He can smell the human’s fear and anger.  He pitches his voice to a soothing tone. “I’m Telemachus Rhade, Second Consort.  I was sent to comfort you.”

“I know who you are.”  Harper snaps.  His hand goes to his head.  “Whoa…what a headache.”

Should he offer touch in an attempt to sooth the human?  His palms itch to feel that cool silken skin again but no…considering the Second Consort’s unfortunate past on Earth, he can only expect the human to be nervous of a strange Nietzschean in such close quarters.  He will remain motionless, allowing the human to adjust to him.  Rhade offers advice in a carefully neutral tone. “You should not allow yourself to become so weakened, Second Consort.  I am here so you won’t become ill.”

Harper holds up a hand and frowns. Even in the dim light, his color looks improved. “I know why you’re here.  I want to know how you ended up in my bed with your cock hanging out.”

“You took your pleasure of me and asked me to lie with you.”  Rhade smiles, amused at the suspicious question and the shocked look on the human’s face at the answer.

“I did what?!”  Harper stares down at him.

“Yes.”  Rhade can feel his cock stirring with the image of Harper’s blond head moving enthusiastically over him.

“Oh, shit, I was dreaming about…”  Harper drops his head into his hands, hiding his face.

Rhade takes the opportunity to quickly ease his hardening cock back into his pants.  He doubts that Harper will demand any more of him this night.  The sudden feeling of disappointment surprises him. “The Progenitor.”

“Yeah…yeah, I was.”  Harper’s sadness is almost palpable as he drops his hands and lifts his head.  He looks away.  “You’re not him.”

“No. I’m not.”  Rhade agrees quietly but all the same, he can fill the Second Consort’s needs very well if the human will give him the opportunity.  “I think that we should arrange to meet about twi…”

“Get out.”  Harper lies down, turning his back and curling up in a tight ball.  “Just get out.”

“Second Consort…” Rhade leans on his elbow, eyeing the rigid lines of the human’s back.

“My name’s Harper.  Harper.”

“Harper.”  Rhade’s hand hovers uncertainly over the stiff shoulder before withdrawing.  “We don’t want you getting in this state again.  We should meet on a regular basis.”

“When did you see him?  Tyr.  When did you see him?” Harper demands.

“The Progenitor visited Terazed a few days before I joined your crew.”

“How was he?  Was he okay?” Harper looks over his shoulder.  His blue eyes are full of worry.

“The Progenitor was fine.”  Rhade reaches slowly out, trailing his fingertips over the tense line of the human’s shoulders.  He eases a little closer.  “Although he was especially concerned about your welfare.”

“And he sent you to ‘comfort’ me.  So you drew the short straw, huh.”  Harper laughs bitterly and turns his face back to the wall.

“I don’t understand.”  Rhade gently strokes the supple skin, enjoying the silky texture under his palm.

“Someone else got the First Wife and First Consort detail.  You got saddled with the kludge. I bet that put a kink in your nuts.  Just get out will you?”

The human doesn’t understand.  True, there will be comments and jokes but those will rise from envy.  Being selected to provide comfort to one of the Progenitors higher ranking wives or consorts is both an honor and a path to opportunity and reward.  The chance to develop a close relationship with someone so important to the Progenitor is to be gloated over and prized.  Rhade drops a kiss on the tip of Harper’s shoulder.  “Harper.  I have the honor of comforting the Progenitor’s most precious spouse. I am content.”
 

****

Telemachus Rhade nods at Beka Valentine as he makes his way to the command deck.  She strides down the corridor next to him.  Pale skin peeks through the artful slashes cut in her black pants.  Her red knit shirt clings to her curves and bares her middle.  A quick sidelong glance tells him that she noticed his looking and is pleased by it.

She is an excellent pilot and a skillful con artist. Too bad those skills are overshadowed by her personal weaknesses.  Rhade sniffs.  Dylan’s scent is on her.  Good.  Between his relationship with Beka and Dylan’s ambivalence toward his ancestor, the Captain is unlikely to make advances to him.  Beka, however, seems inclined to make advances to him and Dylan doesn’t seem inclined to object.  Does the Captain think to control him through her?  Are her advances a test of some kind?  Is she doing it on her own or has Dylan asked her to try to fuck him or is it both?

“Good Morning, Beka.”  Telemachus smiles and slows his stride to match Beka’s.

“Good Morning.” Beka moves closer and manages to brush lightly against him.  She smiles at him. “Got anything planned for when you get off duty?”

“No.”  Telemachus glances at her.  What is she going to suggest this time? “Why?”

“I was just wondering if you’d like to meet in the gym and work out for a bit.”

Rhade sighs.  He has to exercise sometime.  He could efficiently accomplish two things at once; get his workout in and ingratiate himself with Beka.  “I’ll consider it. Thank you for the invitation.”

Beka smiles widely as they step through the door to Command Deck.  “Good.”

“Good Morning, Captain.”  Telemachus takes his station.  He glances quickly over the readings displayed on the console.

Dylan glances over at the Nietzschean and then Beka.  “Rhade.  Beka.”

Telemachus looks around.  The young officers from Terazed man the other stations.  They shift uneasily as he looks at them.  Word of Tri-Lorn’s arrest of him and Dylan’s subsequent rescue has spread.  To judge from the covert looks they are uncertain whether Dylan was right to free him from Tri-Lorn’s custody or if Tri-Lorn’s accusation that he allowed the Progenitor to escape are true.  Then there is the little matter of his real rank and apparent rank.  Many of these young officers are aware that he was an Admiral.  They have to be wondering what is going on and sufficiently intelligent to be wary of him.

Rhade turns his attention back to the console as the Captain begins roaming the room, peering over shoulders and pausing for the occasional word of praise or correction. He looks up, questioning as Dylan stops behind him.  The Captain smiles and sets a hand on his shoulder.  “Telemachus.  Good to have you back on the Command Deck.  How about a game of basketball later?”

“I would like that, Captain.”  Rhade smiles.  He raises an eyebrow at the slow, stroke of Hunt’s thumb along his shoulder.  Perhaps he should adjust his pheromones levels lower.  After a moment Hunt moves away and leaves the Command Deck.

His boneblades flutter briefly as his thoughts turn to the Second Consort. He is curiously eager to see the human again.  Their encounter had been brief but pleasant.  Perhaps next time, the Consort will be more relaxed and willing to spend more time on him and with him.

&&&

Harper stalks across the wide expansive lawn, trying to ignore Rhade trailing warily behind him.  He scowls at the neat stretch of green grass, the big gaudy mansion planted in the center of the clearing.  This Collector guy obviously wasn’t hurting for anything. Harper eyes the big, gold dome with disbelief.  What is Tyr doing here with this rich loser?

He glances over his shoulder, accidentally meeting Rhade’s dark eyes.  His gaze skims past Rhade to the Nietzschean guard.  The guard’s attention was on Rhade.  Good. Harper jerks stiffly around to continue following the guard herding him across the lawn.  The lean blond had been oddly considerate, never hurrying him and apparently content to allow him to pause and look about as much as he wanted.  No shoving.  No pushing. No hitting. Not even a few insults.  Odd.

Must be part of this Second Consort business and because Tyr is here somewhere.  Harper looks eagerly around.  His eyebrows rise as a gaggle of barely dressed dancing girls drift across the lawn.  His eyes narrow with temper then he notices that the girls are all humans.  They must belong to the Collector guy since Tyr would hardly want a flock of addicted dancing girls chasing him around the universe.  What was the name?  Oh, yeah. Pish.  Harper snorts.  The herd of dancing girls kinda goes with the sort of guy who would build a mansion like that.  Probably had animal print sheets on every bed and gold plated fixtures in every bathroom.

He can almost feel Rhade’s watchful stare.  He has to reluctantly admit that he is feeling better, more like himself since…color heats his face at the memory of discovering Rhade with pants undone lying beside him...the memory of Rhade’s cock filling his mouth.  The Nietzschean seemed matter-of-fact about the whole thing but he felt mortified.  To make matters worse was the underlying knowledge that he would have to do it again at some point.  But not today, maybe not for a while now that Tyr is back.

They are heading toward a pair of gauzy tents pitched in front of the big house.  The tents rather add to the surreal circus atmosphere.  Harper glimpses a big, dark form through the drifting curtains and hurries into the tent. “Tyr!”

 Tyr looks up.  His beautiful hair is cropped short.  A brown leather vest hugs his chest.  A very young dancing girl is kneeling between his leather-covered thighs.  He casually drops a grape into her mouth and murmurs, “Go.”

She smiles at him and rises in a graceful, flowing movement.  Her sheer, dark cherry dress drifts around her dainty frame as she turns and glides out of the tent.  Harper stares after her and then looks back at Tyr.  He hardly knows what to ask first. What’s with the dancing girl?  Why did Tyr send a message to Beka but not a word to him? What the hell is going on?

“You want to tell me…” Harper squeaks at Tyr pulls him into a too-tight embrace and kisses him hard, muffling the rest of the sentence.  There is the immediate joy of being back in Tyr’s arms then the realization that something is odd.  This isn’t right.  It feels wrong. Tyr feels…wrong.  The painfully tight embrace, the hard press of lips, the almost mechanical thrust of tongue…Tyr would never handle him that way.  Harper wiggles in protest; his hands griping the wide shoulders.  The skin feels wrong…smooth but lacking the rich, plush texture of Tyr’s skin.  The taste is wrong.  The way this…whatever it is…is touching him wrong.  All wrong.  Harper yanks his head back, his heart beating hard with fear and anger.

The thing nuzzles his throat, whispering softly, “Calm your fear, Harper, I will not hurt you.  No one here is going to hurt you.”

“Put me down.”  Harper squirms determinedly in the hard grip.

“Have you finished that project that I left you?” The fake Tyr whispers.

Harper stiffens and turns his head away as the lips slide softly across his cheek, heading for his mouth again.  Tyr had left a pile of flexis filled with calculations and blueprints.  He had found them under his pillows.  The plans were for a device is like nothing that he has seen before.  The closest things to it are that tesseract device that Satrina had used and the machine that he had later built based on that technology but the plans that Tyr left…those promised to be far more powerful and controlled.  How does this fake Tyr know about that?  Whose interest does it represent?  “I said, put me down.”

“Not just yet, Harper.  Not until you listen.”  Tyr drops back in his chair, cradling Harper on his lap.  He nuzzles the human’s throat and shoulder.

“Let go of me.” Harper glances around.  He can see the Nietzschean guards through the gauzy flutter of the tent.  Their backs are turned but he has no doubt that they are listening.  Rhade is standing in the far corner of the tent, watching with a sardonic glint in his dark eyes.  The lean blond guard is at the other corner of the tent watching all three of them.  They seem to be waiting for some reaction on his part.

Wait.  Wait.  The pheromone thing…this fake Tyr wouldn’t smell right to any of the Nietzscheans so why are they going along with it?  For that matter, why a fake Tyr?  Damn it!  Tyr is so going to pay for this when he catches up with the bastard.  Harper presses back against the hard arms circling him and glares at the blond guard.  “Where’s the off switch on this damned thing?”

Rhade walks over him and smiles knowingly. “Shhh.  Not everyone knows.”

“You know.  All the Niets know. I know.”  Harper snorts despite the angry burn of his disappointment at discovering that Tyr is not really there.  He shifts uncomfortably.  Damned if the fake isn’t anatomically correct and sporting an erection.  Did it have to do that?

“Clever, Harper. I’m so proud of you.” The fake Tyr smiles down at him.

He scowls back at it. How much intelligence does it have?  It doesn’t seem to have Rommie’s level of self-awareness.  Harper stares into the glassy eyes. “Who are…what are you?”

“I am a simulacrum of Tyr Anasazi.” The fake Tyr pulls Harper closer and strokes his back.

“You’re not an android.”  Harper looks the fake Tyr over.  The thing’s resemblance to Tyr is positively creepy. “If you were I would know it.  You’re not.  What are you?”

“I am more than machine, less than man, much less than Nietzschean.”

“Thanks for clearing that up for me.” Harper rolls his eyes.  Yep.  It had been build by Niets alright. “How about clearing something else up for me.  Where is Tyr…my Tyr?”

“He asked that I give you this.”  The fake Tyr places a small orb on the table next to his chair.

“I will leave you to your message, Second Consort.”  Rhade bows and steps back.

“Wait.” The fake Tyr orders.  It strokes Harper’s cheek as it looks at Rhade.  “The message is for your ears as well Telemachus Rhade.  Stay.”

Rhade glances at Harper and asks softly, “Would you like me to remain, Second Consort?”

Harper perches stiffly on the faux Tyr’s knees.  He wishes it would let him up.  He thought that he had experienced some embarrassing moments in his life but getting publicly groped by this thing is worse the vague memories of putting his mouth on Rhade.  He does not feel comfortable with this thing even if it is from Tyr.  Of course, he could say the same about Rhade. Harper looks up, meeting Rhade’s black eyes.  “Yeah.  Actually I would.”

“As you wish.”

Harper looks from the orb to the fake Tyr.  What is it waiting for?  He wants to see Tyr again.  The real Tyr.  Even if only for a few minutes of message. “What are you waiting for? Turn it on.”

“The device will only respond to you, Harper.  Your DNA activates it.”  The fake Tyr leans back in the chair, watching Harper.

“So what do I do?”  Harper asks in exasperated tones.  “Spit on it? Pee on it?”

The blond guard snorts.  Rhade’s dark eyes glint with amusement.

“Nothing so dramatic.  Touch it.”  The fake Tyr pats his shoulder.

Harper reaches out hesitantly and touches the orb.  A small holographic image of Tyr appears.  He leans close, peering at the image.  The long, beautiful braids are really gone.  Tyr looks just as handsome with the short hair but he’ll miss wrapping his hands in the long braids.  Tyr looks good.  Healthy and well.  Where is his lover?  When will he see Tyr again?

“Harper. I don’t have a large window of opportunity so I must be brief.  This simulacrum is my representative…a probe if you will…so I may gage the strength of my enemy.”

“What enemy?”  Harper asks tartly.  Which enemy might be a better question?  One of Tyr’s enemies or one of the Progenitor’s enemies? Or someone who qualifies as both?

The tiny figure folds his arms over his chest. “We met him over two years ago.  You call him the living lava lamp.”

Harper frowns.  He doesn’t like to remember his own run-ins with the lava lamp and its assorted minions.  His hand touches his dataport.  If Tyr is taking on the Magog and their god…his mouth hardens.  If this will get rid of the Magog threat for good, he will back Tyr’s plan all the way and endure whatever he must until he can have Tyr again. “Ole Red Eyes himself.”

“Indeed.”

Details would be helpful.  Such as how those tesseract plans that Tyr left him fit in with the whole of Tyr’s battle plan.  Harper leans closer.  “What has all this got to do with him…it…whatever?”

“I can reveal no more at this time.”

Great.  That’s just peachy.  Very helpful.  Harper sighs and peers at the tiny Tyr standing on the table.  “Are you okay?”

“I am well.  You look ill.”

Harper sits back and scowls.  He knows what he looks like.  He has a mirror and while he’s on the subject just whose fault is it that he isn’t getting what he needs?  Huh?  Tell me that, Big Guy. “Gee thanks.”

“Rhade.”  Tyr looks across the table at Rhade.

Rhade takes a step closer, watching the tiny figure with equal parts fascination and wariness. “Yes, Progenitor.”

Tyr’s image frowns. “Have you been comforting my consort?”

Rhade glances sidelong at Harper and mutters, “I am trying…”

“Harper.”  Tyr turns a stern look on Harper.

Harper glares at the small image.  Does he have to discuss this in front of Rhade and the guards?  They’ve had this discussion before.  He only wants Tyr. He isn’t a casual encounter kind of guy. “I don’t want him, Tyr!”

“I am not eager to think of you with him, love.  Necessity requires it for your sake.”  There is a stern expression on the tiny, dark face.

Harper looks away. No one will ever feel completely right to him but Tyr.  “He doesn’t feel right.”

“It pleases me that you take no joy in the acts. However, you must use your comforter or risk all.”

“What do you mean?” Harper asks, turning back to the image.

“I need you to complete the project.  I need you whole and well when I return.”  Tyr’s expression softens as he looks at Harper.

“When are you coming back?”

“When we have vanquished this foe and emerge victorious.”

Harper frowns.  That sounds like he may be apart from Tyr for a long time.  Like he might have to be with Rhade for longer than he wants to consider. “What about this fake Tyr?  What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Its purpose will be revealed soon.  You will know what to do when the time comes.”

Great.  Another non-answer.  He’d been working on the new tesseract device more out of curiosity and a desire to keep busy than anything else but knowing that it was something that could help stop the Magog, that added a sudden urgency to his tinkering. “I’ll get to work as soon as we get back.”

Tyr looks from Rhade to Harper and his lips tighten but his gaze meets Harper’s. “Move Rhade into our quarters.”

“NO!”  Harper stiffens in pure fury.  How can Tyr ask that of him?  He couldn’t bear to go there after Tyr left so he had returned to his old quarters.  Rhade had taken Tyr’s rooms when the Nietzschean arrived.  No way is he going to…the mere idea of having to allow Rhade to be intimate with him is hard enough…the idea of being intimate with Rhade in that room, that bed…No.  Absolutely not.  Definitely not.

“He must remain in close proximity to you.  Remember, Seamus. He is yours to control. You may use him as you will.”

Harper glances across the tent at the sound of a hastily muffled snigger.  The blond guard is grinning and Rhade looks stunned.  This does not make him feel any more reconciled to the idea of being intimate with someone who was not Tyr or any less angry at being urged to touch Rhade, to allow Rhade to touch him.  Tyr had already told him that he could do as he would with Rhade; that he would be in control of whatever happened. It might not be a bad idea to be sure that Rhade was clear on that. “So I can do him.  He doesn’t have to do me, right?”

“That is correct.” Tyr nods.

“Progenitor!” Rhade gasps.  His black eyes are wide and shocked.

“Silence.  You will yield to my consort.”  Tyr’s face is cold and hard as he stares at Rhade. “You will assist him in any way he requires of you is that clear?”

Rhade bows his head.  Hot color washes over his face. “Yes, Progenitor.”

“Good.  Harper. My time grows short.”

Harper stands, ignoring the way the fake Tyr’s hands slide over his waist and hips.  He stares down at the tiny Tyr standing on the table.  It’s been so long since he has seen Tyr; been with his lover. “Don’t go…not yet.”

“I must.  Stay strong. Complete the project.  All will work according to plan.”  Tyr image flickers and vanishes.

Harper sweeps the room with a glare.  The fake Tyr is leaning back in its chair; it’s face blank and indifferent.  The blond guard is eyeing Rhade with speculation and amusement.  Rhade is standing stiffly; his black eyes blank and dazed.

“Come on Rhade.  Let’s get out of here.  I think I’m going to be sick.” Harper stalks out of the tent.  Had the other guards heard any of that?  Yeah.  The sudden ripple of interested looks at him and Rhade answer that question.  Great.  Why don’t they just make a recording and stick it in the All Systems University Library database?

Harper strides across the lawn, through the wandering herd of dancing girls.  Rhade is walking beside him. Harper glances over his shoulder. The fake Tyr is watching from the tent.  The blond guard and his dark partner are strolling along behind them.

“Did you see the look on Rhade’s face?” The blond guard’s voice is pitched to carry as he addresses his partner.

The dark guard snickers.  “I did.  Comforting the Second Consort is one thing.  But allowing it to top…well, Rhade doesn’t look too eager to play ‘bottom’ to a kludge ‘top’.”

He is in a mood to sink his boneblades into something right…like two overly bold Betas.    The Second Consort’s announcing a lack of desire for him is bad enough but added to the Progenitor’s equally public announcement that he must allow the human to take him…no wonder the Betas guards doubt his Alpha status enough to taunt him…Rhade growls and turns sharply to face the two guards, his boneblades snapping out.  The dark guard immediately steps back and falls silent.  The blond also falls silent but holds his ground and smirks.  The smirk fades as Rhade steps toward him.

Rhade pivots at the sound of approaching footsteps.  Three people.  A quick glance reveals that the two Betas aren’t reacting. Rhade sniffs.  The breeze brings him the scent of Beka and two strangers.  She must have been sent for after Harper left the tent.

Beka walks around the path curving through the trees.  Two guards flank her.  She strokes her collar and smiles at Harper.  “Harper.  How did it go?”

“How did what go?”  The Second Consort’s voice is decidedly snappish.

Beka frowns, pausing as she comes even with Harper. “Your meeting with Tyr, what else?”
“Pretty much exactly the way I expected,” Harper shrugs.  His lips thin with pain and anger as he stares off into the trees.

Rhade studies the Second Consort thoughtfully.  This could be his opportunity despite the embarrassment of being ordered to allow a human to top him.  He has already noted Harper’s loyalty to and affection for those that the human values.  Harper’s anger at the Progenitor might well give him an opening to attach some of that loyalty and affection to himself.  And give him the opportunity to show the Second Consort how much pleasure he could provide if given the chance.

“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Beka asks cheerfully.

Harper glances back at the tent where the fake Tyr is back to feeding one of dancing girls.  “I suppose so.”

“Rhade,” Beka smiles and sweeps her gaze approving over him, lingering casually over the bulge filling his snug, black pants.  “Good to see you.”

“Beka.”  Rhade uses a cool, distancing tone.  He moves to stand closer to Harper.  Probably too soon to touch the human but he can begin to ease the way by adding seductive overtones to his pheromones.  If the human does not do something with him soon, the Progenitor might begin to doubt the choice and replace him.  He will not have that added humiliation.  He can only imagine the glee with which his enemies would greet the news.

Beka lifts her eyebrows at his tone and glances at Harper.  She tilts her head in Rhade’s direction. “What’s with him?”

Harper glances over his shoulder. His lips curve into a smug, taunting smile. “He received a bit of disturbing news.”

“Oh.” Beka eyes them curiously.  She looks toward the tent.  “Well, guess I’d better see what Tyr has to say.”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”  Harper turns away.  He suddenly turns back to her and calls, “Oh, and, Beka, take your time.  Rhade and I have a few things to discuss.”

“Sure.  No problem.”  Beka glances over her shoulder at them.

Harper eyes the tents on the lawn and the dancing girls coldly. “Maybe Tyr will let you stay in one of his circus tents.”

“Really?  You think he might?” Beka gives him a quizzical look.

“Never hurts to ask, Beka.”

Harper turns to Rhade.  The blue eyes are cool and angry still.  “Let’s get back to the Maru.  I may need a little ‘comforting’ before Beka returns.”

So this it.  His opportunity to offer pleasure to the Second Consort and prove his worth in that area.  He is not pleased, not at all, with the idea of permitting a human to…but it is the Progenitor’s order and if riding him occasionally is what it takes to make the Second Consort accept him…then he will tolerate it.  Rhade lowers his eyes under the human’s glower, signaling his acceptance of the required submission.  “As you wish, Harper.”

“Yes. Exactly as I wish.”  Harper snaps as he stalks off.  “Although I’m undecided.”

“About what, Harper?” Rhade asks as he falls in next to the human. Does he really want to know with the Second Consort in this mood?  At least, the Betas are wary enough of his own mood to have dropped back, out of hearing distance of their conversation.

Harper adopts a thoughtful air and slants him a mocking glance. “I’m not sure if I want to take your ass with you on your back or on your knees.”

“Whatever you prefer, Harper,” Rhade murmurs mildly, refusing to be pushed into angry reaction.  He can scent fear under the human’s mingled anger and desire.  He must not scare the Consort off with a display of the real anger smoldering under the surface of meekness that he is offering now.  Once they are intimate, he is confident of his ability to keep and hold the human’s interest.

Rhade eyes the human in sudden speculation.  Perhaps the Consort hopes to provoke his anger.  Perhaps there is more that one reason for the human’s public demands.  A need to establish control and dominance over him…that would be explained by Harper’s past and the human’s fear of him but he is being to suspect that the human is hoping that he will refuse the embarrassing orders and give the Second Consort yet another excuse to avoid contact with him as long as possible.

“On your knees then.”  Harper flicks a quick, sidelong look at him as if assessing his reaction.

&&&

Rhade stands in the bunk area watching in bemusement as the human yanks clothes off as if there is a race and sizable bet involved.  Harper tosses his boots aside.  The violently purple shirt with trees on it sails across the room to the other bunk.  “Is there a reason for your haste, Second Consort?”

“Let’s just get on with it.”  Harper snaps.

Rhade stares at the small human and tries to decide the best approach.  What will win him the affection of the Second Consort?

“What are you waiting for, Telemachus?”  Harper’s hands drop to the waistband of his cargo pants.  He looks Rhade up and down with a brisk businesslike air.

“You used my name.”  Rhade sits on one of the bunks and slowly removes his boots. Is it a sign of acceptance?  A granting of intimacy?

“What of it?”  Harper glares at the Nietzschean.

“Does it signify that you are…accepting me as your comforter?” Rhade eyes the Second Consort warily, trying to gauge the human’s mood.  What role should he assume?  What will please the human? He can scent both anger and desire.

“It’s just your name.  Would you rather I call you something else?” Harper snipes as he unfastens the button on his waistband.

Rhade lowers his eyes.  It’s going to be a long session if he has to keep fighting back his innate aggressiveness to project a reassuring submissiveness rather than allow himself a more natural response. “No.  Whatever you wish, Second Consort.”

“Look, I told you.” Harper sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “My name is Harper.  Call me that.”

Rhade sits quietly for a moment, head slightly bent, waiting but the human is not approaching him.  He raises his head and boldly studies the Second Consort.  What does Harper want?  The assumed submissiveness is apparently neither fooling Harper nor enticing the human to come closer. How should he proceed?  Perhaps if he can learn a little about Harper’s relationship with the Progenitor, he can figure out what he needs to do…what will please Harper.  “May I ask a question…Harper?”

“Yeah, what is it?”  Harper looks at Rhade warily.  His fingers remain motionless on his waistband, apparently reluctant to remove the barrier of pants.

“What did the Progenitor call you?”

“You overestimate your importance to me, Rhade.”  Harper’s eyes narrow in anger. His voice is hard and flat. “What is between Tyr and me is private.  Don’t ever ask about it again, understood?”

“Understood.”  Rhade stares down at his strong hands.  If there was a fight or a threat to the Second Consort, that he knows how to deal with but this…he had little experience with this sort of thing.  He knows that he is pleasing and skilled with women but his only experience with a male had been with the Progenitor who had made it plain what was wanted.  He is uncertain what will please Harper and he does not want to make a mistake.  This position is too important to jeopardize.  “It’s just that…”

“What?”  Harper snaps.  His fingers tap impatiently at his narrow waist.

“I’ve never…yielded to a…”

“A what?  A kludge?” Harper’s voice is sharp.

“No. I’ve never yielded to any male.”  Except for the Progenitor but that was an extreme case and didn’t really count.  The experience of having his chemistry overridden had been surreal…almost frightening to find himself yielding to the strong surge of the Progenitor’s chemistry, to feel the slow overwhelming of his defenses and then the craving for more and more…followed by the dazed, shuddering days of recovery in the weeks after Tyr left him.

“Ahh haa.”  Harper smiles suddenly.  His expression softens. “Don’t worry my little comfort studly; I’ll be gentle.”

Still no cues as to what the human wants.  Very well, he will try to follow his instincts but keep them restrained enough that he does not alarm the Second Consort. Rhade pulls his black cotton sweater over his head with a slow ripple of muscle.  He is pleased to see the blue eyes darkening as Harper watches him closely.  He drops the sweater on the bunk and stands.  He unfastens his pants and pulls them off, baring himself to the Second Consort’s interested gaze.  “Is my appearance pleasing to you, Harper?”

“Nice. Very nice.”  Harper murmurs.

Rhade walks over to the human and tilts Harper’s head back.  He brushes a kiss across the human’s lips, parting them and sinking deep into the cool, velvet mouth.  His tongue glides in for a slow, through exploration that has the human’s hands tightening on his waist.

Harper moans and presses closer, opening his mouth wider.  His hands slide up the Nietzschean’s back, tracing the flex and ripple of hard muscles from narrow waist to wide shoulders then back down to cradle the hard curves of ass. “I can hardly wait to sink into your tight ass, Rhade.”

“I am yours for whatever will bring you pleasure.”  Rhade kisses his way down the pale column of the human’s throat.  His mouth closes over the skin surrounding the dataport, making the compact body in his arms arch frantically against him.  Perhaps he can make the human hot and desperate enough that Harper will forget about riding him for now.  Rhade lingers over the sensitive skin, trying a series of licks, nibbles and kisses until Harper is breathing harshly and clinging to him. He finally moves lower. His tongue swirls damply in the hollow of Harper’s throat, making the human’s head tilt back.

Harper clings to Rhade.  “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Yes.”  Rhade nips Harper’s chin.  His hands slide over the human’s chest as he kneels.

Harper gasps.  “Well, at least we cleared that up.”

Rhade spreads kisses over the pale chest.  He nibbles lightly on the peach nipples as Harper’s hands slide up his throat and spread through his hair, cupping his skull.  Rhade deftly unfastens the cargo pants and he slides the fabric down.  He arches an eyebrow at the blue and beige stripped boxers. Humans. Rhade shakes his head and slides the underwear down.

“You have a glorious body, Harper.” He blinks at the vision in front of him.  Damn.  He’d never believed that Harper was concealing a prize like this under those baggy pants.  A Nietzschean would have dressed to display an asset like that instead of concealing it.  Add this asset to the skillful mouth and the brilliant mind and no wonder the Progenitor claimed this human.

Rhade kisses the thick length quivering in front of him, flicking his tongue teasingly against the warm skin.  His hands close over the hard swells of the human’s ass, pulling the compact body closer as his mouth glides over the hard cock, taking it as deeply as he can.  “You are delicious.”  Who would have thought that a human could taste so good?

“I’ve always been a tasty morsel.” Harper chuckles.  His fingers comb through the thick, black hair.

 Rhade reluctantly allows his prize to slip from his mouth and kisses his way back up the tight row of stomach muscles.  His arms close firmly around the lithe body as he kisses his way back up to claim Harper’s mouth.  He growls as cool hands close over his own throbbing cock.  He presses the human back and down into the bed behind Harper.

He sinks deep into the human’s mouth as his legs ease between the Consort’s thighs, spreading them wide.  Rhade growls as the cool body squirms and wiggles enticingly beneath him.  He rubs himself against the velvet thickness of the human’s cock.  The Consort’s smooth, cool skin feels so good, smells so good, and tastes so good.  How could the Progenitor tear himself away from this and yield it up, however temporarily, to another?

“Ohhhh, Harper.”  Rhade moans.  His mouth settles demandingly over the dataport, sucking hard. He can feel the rapid pulse of the human’s heartbeat, the urgent arch of the small body.  At this rate, they will both be done soon with no yielding of his own ass but all his instincts urge him to sink into the human’s; to claim, to demand the submission that is his due as an Alpha.   His bone blades flutter restlessly.  Almost involuntarily he slides lower, his cock nudging against the velvety cleft.

Harper’s hands grip his hair firmly, pulling his head back.  Rhade moves with the pull, meeting the smoldering blue eyes. Despite the huskiness of the human’s voice there is no doubt that the words are an order. “Don’t forget yourself, Telemachus.  I’m the only one doing any riding tonight.”

“Of course, Harper.”  Rhade lowers his eyes, fighting back his instincts – the need to challenge, to assert himself, to take.  He must allow this…must yield to the Second Consort.  It was easier with the Progenitor.  The Progenitor’s dominance and overwhelming biochemistry had made it easier for him by overriding his Alpha instincts.  But now…he must yield to a smaller, weaker human without the biochemistry or physical strength to overcome him.  Rhade shudders with the effort of holding back.

Harper slides out from under his body and kneels over him.  “Good.  Now. On your knees, Telemachus.”

Rhade rises to his knees, spreading his thighs.  He stares down at the gray cover and white sheets beneath his hands and knees.  How can he bear this?  He is Alpha, not submissive.  His bone blades flutter with tension as Harper moves between his legs.  Cool hands settle on the hard curves of Rhade’s ass, exploring the flex and bunch of muscles in response to this caress and that.  He shivers at the brush of soft lips, the rasp of shaven cheeks and sharp press of teeth as Harper nips the swell of his ass.  Cool, curious fingers cup the weight of his sac and glide up to dancing teasingly along his cleft making Rhade tense and gasp. “I have never…I don’t know what…”

“Don’t worry, Telemachus.  You may be a bit sore tomorrow but I won’t hurt you.” Harper chuckles.  He strokes the small of the Nietzscheans back in soothing patterns. “Well, actually, it is going to be a bit painful at first unless you relax.”

“This is all so new to me.”  Relax?  How is he supposed to relax with a tiny human topping him?  At least it will be over soon.  The human will probably climax quickly then fall asleep.

Harper spreads gentle kisses across the tense back muscles as his hands caress, urging relaxation. “I’ll be gentle the first time.”

“The ‘first’ time?”  That comment brings his head up and around, his widening gaze meeting the smoldering blue eyes.  Is the human joking?  No.  He will be expected to do this more than once this session.  He had not considered that the Second Consort might not be satisfied with once…Rhade looks away from the bright eyes.

“You didn’t think we’d just do this once tonight, did you?” Harper asks huskily as his hand slides around Rhade’s flank to close over the thick heat of the Nietzschean’s cock.

Rhade growls as the cool, clever hand squeezes and strokes.  His breath catches as the fingers circle delicately, teasing over the head.   He presses into the caress. He can hardly think at all when the human does that. “I…well…I…”

“Now, where did I put that lube?”  Harper muses, teasingly as his finger glide back up to caress the cleft and lightly circle his target.

Rhade bites his lower lip at the slow circles stroking insistently over him.  The sensation is beginning to tantalize him. There might be compensations to this situation. “There should be some in my things.”

“Thanks, but, no, thanks.  I like my own.”  Harper rummages around.  “Ah.  Here we go.”

Rhade tenses again at the sound of a bottle top being opened.  He flinches as something cool and damp is allowed to trickle down his cleft.  Then the circling fingers are back, teasing him with feather light brushes that gradually ease into firmer touch as he relaxes, arching back into the caress.  He gasps, tensing, resisting again as Harper’s finger slides past the tight furled opening.  His eyes widen and his bone blades snap out at the invaded sensation.

“Shhh…shhhh.”  Harper croons, kissing the tightening back muscles.  “It’ll be fine.  Relax.”

Rhade pants, trying to adjust to the alien sensation. Relax?  Is the human mocking him?  This is merely one of Harper’s fingers but it feels thick inside him.  How is he supposed to accommodate Harper’s cock?  He stills suddenly as the finger wiggles playfully.  That felt…interesting.  As he takes a breath, a second finger eases inside. Rhade squirms at the increased sensation of stretching, of being invaded…of thickness…something about it has him pressing back into the slow, slick touch. “I feel…”

“What, Rhade, how do you feel?”  Harper moves his fingers stretching the opening gently.

“Odd.  It feels odd.”  The sensation is intriguing and compelling.  How extraordinary.

“You’ll get used to it.”  Harper slides his other hand around Rhade’s waist, gathering up and stroking the Nietzschean’s hard cock.

“Mmmmmmm…” Rhade moans, arching his spine as a third finger eases inside.

“You like that?”  Harper murmurs, dropping a line of kisses down the strong line of the writhing Nietzschean’s back.

“Yes.”  Rhade growls.  He squirms under the slow stroke and press of those invading fingers.  The idea of Harper’s cock pressing inside is beginning to seem more a promise than a threat.

“Oh, then you’re gonna love this.”  Harper strokes Rhade’s sweet spot.

“Harper!” Rhade shouts as an exquisite sensation rushes through him.  He had felt something similar with Progenitor but the physical sensations had been overwhelmed by the biochemical.  With Harper, the physical sensations are clearer and more vivid.  Rhade presses back on the stretching fingers, tilting his hips greedily. The subtle bob of his cock and soft sway of his sac adds to the voluptuous sensation.  The sweetness of the feeling is indescribable. He must have more.

“I can’t wait to feel my cock pushing inside you, Rhade. I want you. Now.”  Harper slides his fingers away.  He coats his cock with the slippery slickness of the lube and places the wide head against the glistening furl of his target. He waits until Rhade takes a breath then he pushes in slowly.

“Oh…Oh, Harper!  It’s too much!”  Rhade pants, trying to adjust, trying to relax as the thick, blunt head presses inside.

“Relax.  Relax.” Harper soothes as he pushes deeper into the Nietzschean.  His cool hands caress the hard curves framing his cock as he watches himself sinking deeper inside. “Ummmmm.  Oh, damn, your ass is so tight, Rhade!”

Rhade moans as the hard thickness glides slowly deeper. How much more of Harper’s cock can he take?  He shudders, quivering and clenching uncertainly around the hard length as Harper pushes relentlessly deeper inside him.  Finally, the soft brush of the human’s sac against him, tells him that he has it all.  Then the slow glide of retreat as Harper withdraws.

Suddenly the cool velvet length presses over the right spot and the dazzling bright pleasure dances through him.  Rhade spreads his knees wider and arches back, suddenly eager for more. “YEsssssssss….”

“Take all of me, Rhade.”  Harper groans as he buries himself to the hilt again.  He slowly withdraws then sinks back inside setting a gentle easy pace.

“Harper!  Oh, yes!”  Rhade presses back to meet Harper’s thrusts.  The sweet pressure is almost overwhelming.  If this is what it feels like to be ridden by the Second Consort then he can bear it gracefully, even eagerly.

“Your ass is so sweet.”  Harper moans as he thrusts slowly in and out.

Rhade demands, hoarsely, “More.”

“You want more? I can do more.” Harper laughs breathlessly and begins to thrust faster, harder.

“So soooooo good…” Rhade writhes, spreading his thighs wider and tilting his hips back, meeting the thrusts.

“I’m almost there, Rhade.”  Harper gasps against the wide back beneath him.  “Yes. Yes.  Oh, yeah.  Move with me.”

“Harper. Harper. Harper.”  Rhade gasps as Harper gathers up the Nietzschean’s throbbing cock and begins stroking in time to his thrusts.  Rhade growls low and deep as he arches into Harper’s skillful caress.  If it feels this good to be ridden by Harper; how much more pleasing will it be to ride him?  The thought of yielding to Harper and then having Harper writhing under him is too much.  Rhade spills himself over Harper’s clenching fist and collapses under the human.

“Almost…almost there.”  Harper continues to thrust into the Nietzschean.  He makes a final deep thrust and spills himself deep inside.  He collapses against Rhade’s back, caressing the smooth, damp skin. “That was great.”

“It was a wonderful experience, Harper.”  Rhade sighs.  He can feel the slowing pace of Harper’s heart against his back, the slackness in the muscles.  The Second Consort has apparently exhausted himself. The chances are good that he will be spared a second bout tonight, Rhade thinks with a faint disappointment. “Your…technique is unusual but thoroughly pleasing.”

“That was fabulous.”  Harper yawns and languidly pats the muscular flanks that had given him so much pleasure.  Maybe later, he will have Telemachus again but right now he is feeling suddenly relaxed and sleepy.  He eases off to stretch out on the bed.

“I enjoyed that coupling. I didn’t think I would but it was…interesting.” Rhade turns over and pulls the human close against his chest.  He brushes his lips over the silky spikes. “I admit that your girth seemed daunting at first but was bearable.  Were you pleased, Harper?”

“Oh, yeah…that was so good.”  Harper murmurs sleepily.  Not as intense as what he shared with Tyr but nice.  He yawns again.  Ummm.  The Nietzschean’s smell is oddly comforting.  It faintly reminds him of Tyr’s scent.  Now, if the Nietzschean would just shut up and go to sleep.  Harper slides a thigh over Rhade and snuggles closer.  Umm.  He’d never have suspected Telemachus was the type to turn into a chatterbox after sex.

“It was indeed extraordinary, Harper.  I had no idea.”

Harper absently pats his partner’s shoulder.  Maybe he better drop a hint if he wants to be allowed to drift peacefully off to sleep. “I’m going to rest for a minute.”

“I am glad you were pleased.” Rhade brushes his lips against Harper’s forehead.  “I’ll be here when you awaken.”

“Good.”  Harper murmurs.  Just as long as the bloody Nietzschean stops talking.   Harper forces his heavy eyes open.  Maybe all the chattiness is just Telemachus trying to figure out if he had performed to satisfaction.  He does owe the Nietzschean that reassurance.  Rhade had made every effort to please him. Harper tilts his head back.  “Kiss me.”

Rhade lowers his head and takes the offered kiss.  He sinks into the delightful coolness of Harper’s mouth and for an instant becomes lost in the kiss.  Harper is his for as long as the Progenitor is away.  His to please. His to protect.  His arms tighten around the human as his Alpha instincts begin rising to the surface again and the kiss turns aggressive.

Harper pulls back.  The blue eyes are narrowed in annoyance.  “Rhade?  What are you doing?”

“Thinking, Harper.”  Rhade assumes an air of meekness, relaxing his grip.  He meets the suddenly suspicious stare with a bland gaze.

Harper sighs loudly and snuggles back down. “Okay, but do you have to squeeze me so tight while you’re doing it?”

“Sorry.  Rest, Harper.  Beka will be back soon.”  Rhade idly strokes the human’s back.

“Nah. I think we have the rest of the night to ourselves.  Beka will stay with that thing tonight.”

Rhade tilts his head back, looking down at Harper’s face.  The vivid eyes are closed. He traces the outlines of the passion mark that he left just below the human’s dataport.  “She won’t suspect the simulacrum?”

“Nope.  She’ll never realize it’s not Tyr.”

“She’ll…sleep with it?”  Rhade drops his head back onto the pillow.  How could she…but, perhaps to someone who could not scent the artificialness of the simulacrum, it might not seem unattractive.  It was after all modeled on a prime example of Nietzschean manhood.

“Oh, yeah.  She’s wanted to get in Tyr’s pants for a long time.  She’ll see this as her chance.”  Harper yawns.

“Just because Dylan told her to?” Rhade asks curiously.

“I don’t think Dylan told her to fuck Tyr.  I’d bet he told her to get close to him and gain his confidence.  But Beka only knows one way to do that.  She’ll fuck him.”

Rhade frowns. “She has no loyalty.”

“Yeah, she’s loyal to her friends but Tyr turned her down and then he chose me.”  Harper rubs his cheek against Rhade’s chest.  His voice is sleepy and indifferent. “She wants to prove she’s still desirable.”

Rhade stokes his hand down the smooth skin of Harper’s chest.  His fingers circle a nipple. “So clever.”

“Mmmhmm.”  Harper murmurs sleepily.

Rhade cups Harper’s shaft and balls, admiring the velvet coolness filling his hand.  “Have you ever bedded her?”

Harper shifts his position grumpily. “No.  I offered but I guess I’m not enough of a bad boy.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”  Rhade whispers.

Harper blinks blearily at him.  “Why?”

“No reason.”  Rhade kisses Harper’s lips lightly.  “Sleep.”

Harper rolls over on his stomach, turning his face away as he snuggles into the pillow.  Rhade kisses the pale shoulder.  His fingers trace lightly down the line of Harper’s spine to touch the Progenitor’s mark at the base.  It is no good to allow himself to develop possessive feelings about Harper.  The human can never truly be his.  Harper is the Progenitor’s Consort; he is someone who cannot be possessed by anyone but the Progenitor.  Rhade bends to drop a kiss on the mark.  The most he can do is make himself so necessary to the Second Consort that Harper will find the idea of anyone else as comforter unthinkable.

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