Fortress
by Becca Abbott
Part 11
Iason could see shadows moving in the mouth of the alley as they approached it. He shifted his coat open a bit more, hand edging toward his gun. Katze saw the motion and slowed a bit, falling slightly behind him as they walked their bikes along the deserted, crumbling street.
It had been snowing in fits and starts through most of the day. It wasn't deep, but if the squalls kept up, their bikes would be useless soon. The constant snow meant that tracks got covered quickly, too, making it hard to tell who, if anyone, inhabited the area.
Another movement. The lurkers were getting impatient. Iason's fingers brushed his gun.
"Aieee!" Two bulky, ragged figures launched themselves from the alley. Katze threw himself to one side, Iason to the other, as energy rays left long grooves in the snow between them. Iason's return fire decapitated one of the attackers. Katze wounded the second, who howled like a mad thing and lurched off, leaving a trail of crimson.
"Leave him," Iason said. His heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping through his veins.
The eunuch nodded, himself breathless. Iason's gaze was pulled inexorably to the line of his hip and thigh as Katze bent to confiscate the fallen attacker's weapon.
"Do you think there are any more of them around?" Katze asked.
Iason was hot. Even with the air so cold his breath hung like a frosty cloud before him, he was burning up.
"Iason?"
"I don't know. I don't care. Let's find some shelter."
Picking up their bikes, they went on, steering around the headless corpse, heading south. According to the information at their last stop, there was a settlement ahead, a small one with a bar that let out a room to travelers.
Iason was glad of the cold. It cooled his heated skin and slowed his pulse. He tried to concentrate on his surroundings, but his thinking seemed disjointed. The oddest things reminded him of Riki. A glimpse of steel-grey sea between the ruined buildings put him in mind of a lazy afternoon making love on the deck of his pleasure yacht. An innocuous curve in the littered roadway and he remembered riding in the backseat of his limousine with Riki kneeling on the floor between his knees, mouth around his cock.
As the sun set, they came upon a settlement and found the bar. Their reputation had, by now, preceded them and there was no difficulty in securing the squalid little room above it.
If he didn't find Raoul soon, Iason knew he would have no choice but return to Midas and hire a unit of mercenaries to take Riki back. He did not want to do that. The Fortress was damned hard to approach and even with a small number of defenders, would not be easy to take. Using hired thugs meant the possibility of security leaks, of treachery, of being forced to rely on men with inferior skills and uncertain loyalty. It was flawed in a million ways and the consequences would probably exceed even his most pessimistic predictions, but he couldn't let this go on much longer. The need for his lover was becoming a constant ache in his heart and his loins.
"You're awfully quiet."
Iason, stretched out one side of the big bed, looked over. Katz sat on the other, pulled off his boots.
"I'm thinking."
"About Riki?"
Iason didn't answer. His eyes rested, hooded, on the curve of Katze's cheek and his slightly parted lips. Suddenly the Blondie's entire body burned. The intensity of his need took his breath away and he lay, rigid. Katze's eyes widened, lighting on Iason's crotch. He paled slightly.
Iason sat up. "Come here."
Katze swallowed. "Iason?"
"Come to me!" Iason heard his own voice, almost guttural.
Katze didn't move. Panic stared out of those brown eyes. "Iason, what's the matter?"
Iason's control shattered. He leapt across the bed, fist closing around Katze's collar, hauling him up. For a second, they were motionless, Katze all but hanging in Iason's grip, too stunned to react, then the Blondie threw him back down.
Katze's paralysis broke. He rolled over and tried to scramble away, but Iason was faster. He caught an ankle and dragged the man back. One hand hooked into the waistband of Katze's trousers.
"Iason!"
Iason's vision seemed to shrink to a tunnel point. At the end of it, he saw Katze's face, white and shocked. Fabric tore. Katze was shouting something, but the roaring in Iason's ears drowned it out. Pain raked along his arm – Katze's nails. He swung his fist. His knuckles connected and Katze went still.
In Iason's gut, a terrible pressure was building with the speed of an advancing storm. He wanted, he needed. More cloth ripped in his hands.
"Iason! Stop! What the hell...!"
Shut up! Iason brought his open hand hard across Katze's face. There was a choking cry. Eyes wide and luminous with fear filled Iason's vision. His mouth came down hard on lips deliciously soft and tasting of blood. He could feel the other man's hands pushing at him, the desperate struggling of that long, slim body under his, but none of it mattered. There was only the pressure, the terrible need that made every nerve cell in his body shriek with it.
"IASON! STOP! Please..."
Something in the anguished voice reached through the chaos of his soul. Katze was crying. Iason, breathing harshly, found that he had a handful of red hair. With a tremendous effort, he opened his fingers. Somehow, he pushed off the bed and reeled back, coming up hard against the wall. His heart was beating so violently that he thought distantly it might simply explode.
Katze rolled off the bed to crouch on the far side of the room. After a moment, Iason's wits returned enough to let him see that the eunuch was half-naked and shaking like a leaf. Katze's mouth bled and he watched Iason warily, ready to bolt if the Blondie made a move in his direction.
Iason's gut was a misery. Helplessly, he reached between his legs. Just touching his cock made him groan.
"Iason...."
"Get out!"
"Iason, what the..."
"GET OUT!"
Katze reached for one of the bags and pulled another shirt from it. Dressing hastily, clumsily, he didn't wait to put on his boots, only grabbed them and ran. The door slammed. Trembling, Iason went to the bed and sat down. Opening his trousers, he took his livid cock in hand, setting his teeth against the shocks of pain that resulted. Then, biting back his groans, he began to pump.
For some reason, Riki dreamed about Kiri. He'd hardly given the boy a thought since the tumultuous last days of Bison, his old gang. Kiri was dead, or so he'd heard, and to be honest, Riki didn't care. But that night, after the wide-eyed, red-haired Els had skipped off in his classy suit, Riki dreamed of Kiri.
The dream was disturbingly erotic. He woke to the heavy silence of the apartment and an erection that ached like the devil. More disconcerting yet, as he lay shivering under the thin blanket, hand between his legs, Kiri's sullen, pretty face blurred into Els' gentler, more eye-catching beauty and devastatingly sweet smile.
They weren't anything alike, he thought, aside from their youth and a certain naiveté. Kiri had been much harder, more like himself and Guy. Kindness did not flower in Ceres' harsh soil.
His hand and the remnants of the dream warmed him briefly. He got up afterwards and cleaned himself off, then retreated hastily to the bed. It seemed colder than usual. Maybe he could bargain another blanket.
It had been nearly three days since Els had come to Riki with the information about Raoul. Since then, the mongrel had scarcely seen the boy, but he'd heard Brand's voice more frequently, too. Maybe there simply hadn't been any opportunity for Riki to pay up. Riki wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed.
The sounds of morning reached him and soon the smells, as well. Would there be breakfast today? Riki had some of hope of it now. He waited, listening to the murmur of voices, trying to picture the scene. He had a vague memory of the kitchen from being hustled through it. There was a table. Did the Blondie eat there or in a dining room? Did he eat with his pet or did Els serve him? Riki's stomach growled. He sighed and rolled over, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.
Then, "Hey!"
Riki sat up. It was Els and with breakfast!
"Whoa. It's even colder in here than usual!"
Riki nodded emphatically, taking the tray with mumbled thanks. Els stood, arms around himself, frowning, then turned and was gone. A minute later, as Riki was cradling a warm cup of coffee in his hands, there came a scraping sound. Els reappeared, tugging a large, ungainly object after him. A portable heater! Positioning it in the corridor right outside the door, he turned it on.
"Well, we can't – you know – do the training in this cold," he said, reddening a little. "Better not tell Draco, either."
"No," agreed Riki, dumfounded. "Thanks."
"I'll be back when you're done," said Els and was gone.
Riki finished his breakfast, conscious of a small flurry of excitement. He'd started to think Els had lost his nerve. As the room warmed, his spirits lifted. He tried to tell himself it was only that he would finally have something to do to kill the boredom, but he had to admit that he'd been thinking more than a little about the pretty pet.
When Els returned, he grinned cheerfully at the boy. "So? Ready to learn some tricks?"
"Yeah," said Els, voice nonchalant while blushing furiously. Riki's grinned widened. Cuter than hell, this kid.
"So – you want to learn how to drive 'em crazy while driving solo?"
"Sure." A toss of the long hair.
"Come here," said Riki, patting the bed beside him.
Els came.
"Give me your hand."
Shyly, the hand was offered. It was long and slim, the fingers delicately tapered.
"What's this?" Riki asked, turning it over and looking at the blue stain inside the right middle finger.
"Marker," said Els.
"You draw?" Riki suddenly remembered the comments about his hair.
The pet nodded, color deepening.
"Were you drawing me?"
Another nod.
Riki, captivated, asked, "Can I see?"
"M-maybe. When it's done."
Riki grinned. Els returned it tentatively.
"Tell me," said Riki. "When you're masturbating – who are you thinking of?"
"N-no one!"
"Liar. It's Brand, isn't it?"
"No!"
"There's nothing wrong with it if you do."
"B-but, they said there was. T-that I might do something stupid like – like call the master's name or something and make him angry!"
"Who said that?"
"The trainer at the Erba pet salon."
Riki shook his head. "They're fools. It'll only turn him on more, trust me. Who do you think I was thinking of that night I did you?"
Els stared at him, a speculative look appearing in those sky-colored eyes. "You were thinking of your master?"
"Yeah."
"Oh." Els blinked several times. "Really?"
"Try it." Riki moved away from him on the bed. He patted the mattress. "Kneel here and close your eyes. Do what I tell you."
Els looked uncertain, then, taking a deep breath, did as Riki told him. He closed his eyes.
"Open your legs."
Those white teeth sank into that full lower lip. Els moved his knees apart. Riki watched the boy's generous sex harden and lengthen.
"Your hands are not yours," Riki went on in a soft voice. "Pretend they're Draco's. It's Draco touching you, Draco who can't keep his hands off you."
A tremor ran through the youth's body.
"He touches your mouth."
Els' slim fingers, unsteady, brushed across his parted lips. Riki watched the tip of his tongue emerge to slip against them. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks.
"He thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen," Riki went on. "He loves what you do."
Els sucked delicately on his fingers, then let them trail down his throat, his head falling back. His breath came quickly. A soft rose flush spread across his skin.
"He loves your nipples, loves to pluck at them, to tease..." Riki was getting breathless himself. Obediently, Els followed the instructions and a tremor ran through his slender frame. He pinched at the tiny nubs and moaned.
"Harder," whispered Riki. "He wants to see them bright red and puffy."
"Ah!" The tip of Els' cock glistened with pearly fluid. The pet pinched and tweaked at his nipples until they stood pertly at attention, scarlet and big.
Riki swallowed on a dry throat, wanting more than anything to take one his mouth and suck on it. "Now he caresses your skin. It's so soft. Like satin."
Els' hands drifted down across his chest and belly to slide between his legs. They stroked sensuously up and down his thighs. Riki saw his skin roughen with gooseflesh. He was making soft, panting little whimpers.
"Move your legs farther apart," Riki said hoarsely. "I – he wants to see everything."
Els whispered something, his back arching, and moved his knees farther apart, exposing himself completely to Riki's gaze. His long fingers wrapped around his straining erection. His chest rose and fell rapidly now and his skin glowed with a fine mist of sweat, the muscles defined sharply beneath it as the tension increased.
There was no longer any need for coaching. Riki sat, hands balled into fists and pressed against the mattress to keep them off the lovely boy. Each slide of Els' clenched fist up the length of his penis, each tremor that shook the slim body, sent shocks of desire through Riki. If he hadn't so vividly remembered Els' distaste at being touched by a mongrel in that way, he might have seized the youth then and there, finishing the job himself.
"S-sir!" gasped Els, utterly lost in his fantasy. "Please, sir! Let me come!"
"You have my permission," Riki replied, unconsciously echoing Iason's words from so long ago.
Els cried out then, flinging his head back, his body bowing with the violence of his climax. Riki caught his breath at the sight, transfixed. Then Els fell forward, his head to the mattress, inches from Riki, hair spilling across the drab ticking in bright, silken profusion. Unable to help himself, Riki reached out and let his fingers trail through it.
When Els finally regained his composure enough to sit up, Riki had regained his own again, as well.
"Well?" Els asked in a faint, unsteady voice. "Was it all right?"
Riki looked into the boy's anxious blue eyes, still slightly hazy with afterglow, and pulled open his blanket to show Els the evidence.