Wasteland
by Becca Abbott
Part 5
Riki's memory of the weeks before his death was hazy. He remembered Iason, of course, and Guy – Guy in the police station, battered and defiant. Guy, anxious and hopeful, asking to be Riki's pairing partner again. Guy shocked into an explosion of pain and rage, lashing out with a violence that Riki hadn't even thought of resisting. Mostly, he remembered Iason. Iason – who wouldn't even let Riki go in death.
The young mongrel rose silently from the floor where he sat, and moved restlessly to the window. Iason said Riki had come to him willingly – had died with him! Was it true? He didn't want to believe it, but there was that blank hole and the lost time – almost a year. Maybe, thought Riki, leaning his head against the balcony door, maybe his mind had been altered.
Yet he didn't really feel any different. He still wanted to be free, to see his friends, to ride his bike along the old causeway at the edge of Ceres. Guy would tell him the truth if he knew it, even hating Riki as he did, but Riki had no idea if Guy was dead or alive. Dead, probably. One by one, Iason had stripped away all Riki's old supports until there was no one left. No one but Iason.
So why didn't he hate the man? Back against the window, Riki slid down the glass until he sat, hugging his knees, staring across the darkening room. Was it because Iason could make him feel like no one else could? Was it the seductive appeal of knowing himself desired by the most powerful human in Tanagura? Was he in love?
Riki swore, the whisper loud in the quiet room. His hands clenched until his knuckles ached. It wasn't true, he told himself fiercely. Iason had some sort of fiendish, Blondie power that made his touch irresistible, that left a hunger in Riki for more. It was physical. Nothing but lust.
You came back for me. Iason's words echoed through him. You came back for me.
Iason.
Raoul understood a truth about Elites that few others did. Human behavior was his job, after all. It wasn't that they were less sexual than ordinary men – quite the contrary. It was that an Elite's sexuality was sublimated into service to the state. A lifetime of training strove to keep it that way, but Raoul – and Jupiter – knew that the conditioning was not perfect. That was what had made Iason's obsession with Riki so dangerous. It was what made Raoul uneasy about his own growing preoccupation with Riki's former pairing partner. Even as his common sense told him he was a fool, his curiosity brought him ever closer to the flame.
And it wasn't only sexual, that preoccupation. Raoul had never known a mongrel. He'd had no reason to. The few he'd come across had been stupid and obsequious, tongue-tied in his presence. Not Guy. As Guy's body recovered, so did his spirit. Raoul watched, fascinated, as the pet began to test his boundaries.
"Riki did that, too," Iason said, amused, when Raoul spoke to him about it. "Are you enjoying the mongrel?"
He was – perhaps too much.
That morning he'd ordered Guy to suck his cock and what he'd received had been a decidedly inferior performance. Afterwards, he'd fucked the black-haired youth, taking no care, until Guy had bled. The mongrel hadn't made a sound, however, only scowled through his tears.
"I thought there was a law against mistreating pets," he'd spat.
"You're a mongrel," Raoul had reminded him. "You don't exist. Of course, if you wish, I can return you to the brothel."
Guy had turned white, but even then, stared stubbornly back at the Blondie. So Raoul had left him chained, spread-eagled, on the bed to contemplate obedience for the day.
The battle of wills between them was unexpectedly intoxicating – almost as intoxicating as the use of the boy's body had become. Was it this that had begun Iason's descent into the irrational behavior that he insisted was love? Would Raoul succumb, as well? The possibility didn't seem so repugnant as it had a short time ago.
If he'd had the time, Raoul would have taken a holiday – his first ever – and stayed home to explore the situation further, but there were more serious matters that required his attention. Two murders had been committed, crimes far enough out of the ordinary to attract the attention of Jupiter. As Iason had said that morning in his office, "Be prepared to adjust a few attitudes."
Shortly thereafter the police had brought Raoul three men from Carpus IV, assistants to Brandt, men who had known of his daily business dealings. They were citizens, frightened and eager to cooperate, but he had torn through their minds anyway, determined to ferret out any overlooked clue to the heinous crimes. Afterwards, drooling and vacant-eyed, they'd been taken away to have their minds restored – minus a few memories. Iason and Jupiter were adamant that word of the attacks be suppressed to prevent panic.
The elevator took Raoul silently and swiftly to his rooms. The men had known little of value. In the days before his death, Brandt had seemed worried and distracted, but had not volunteered a reason. There had been numerous visits from border planet trade representatives, but that was not unusual. It was Brandt's job to act as liaison between the representatives of far-flung colony governments and Tanagura. The reports he'd filed in the previous weeks had been unremarkable.
A soft chiming announced Raoul's floor. He stepped off the elevator, making his way down the broad corridor. He nodded absently to the few men he passed. This high in the building they were mostly silver and pale blue heads that nodded deferentially in response.
Raoul reached his apartment, letting himself in with a touch at the lock. Almost immediately, his gaze went across the dimly lit great room to Guy's door. Before he realized what he was doing, Raoul started toward it. Absurd, he thought angrily and turning, went instead to the bar.
Dusk lay its hand on Midas, lights springing on in the lower reaches where it was already dark. Tanagura seemed to go on forever. Long ago there had been nothing here, just empty scrub-covered hills descending to the sea. He stared at it awhile, a glass of wine in hand. From this side of the building, he could just make out Ceres. He thought again of the young man who waited in the other room, a child of that wild, dangerous place.
He should release Guy. Let him relieve himself and drink. It was only sensible. Yet why did Raoul feel as if he was indulging himself to stroll across the room and open the door, to let his eyes drift, unhurried to the bed – to take in the magnificent animal sprawled across the dark, gleaming fabric of the bed covering?
Guy lay perfectly still, eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling. His manacled hands were clenched. Raoul could see the tension in muscles strung tight beneath the smooth, golden skin. Bruises from that morning's confrontation were stark on his hips and arms, reminding Raoul of the day he'd brought the Pet home from the whorehouse. Guy's broad chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. Afraid and ashamed and hating Raoul for all of it.
What an exercise in self-discipline it was to walk up to the bed, to lean over and, as if he was completely unmoved by the sight, release Guy from his bonds. The mongrel rolled over, curling into a ball, the pain from cramped muscles tightening his face. Then he sat up and, without a word or look at Raoul, limped past the Blondie and into the bathroom. Raoul returned to the great room and his contemplation of the city.
It wasn't long before he saw Guy's reflection in the darkened window. "Pour me a drink," he said. He watched in the glass as the man moved to the bar. Then he turned around.
Guy was focused, rapt, on pouring the wine from the decanter. Black hair hung like shining silk down his back and over his shoulders. He'd tried once to tie it back into a ponytail. Raoul had refused to allow it, preferring it loose. Now Guy turned, glass in his hands and his dark eyes met Raoul's in the shadowy room. He seemed paralyzed and it was several long seconds before he moved.
Raoul took the glass when he delivered it and said, "Stay here."
Guy swallowed and obeyed. He shivered when Raoul reached forward and swept back a handful of his long hair. Maybe, Raoul thought, he would bring silver earrings for the boy. Against that curtain of black, silver loops would be dramatic. Loosely grasping the back of Guy's neck, he pulled the young man forward. Guy's lips parted under his without resistance. Nor did he resist when Raoul pushed him face first against the window. The mongrel braced himself against the glass, spreading his legs when Raoul ran a possessive hand over his buttocks. Raoul could feel the muscles there, hard as rock.
For the first time, it occurred to Raoul that there was some danger in this. He had control of Guy's pet ring and superior strength, but the mongrel was no soft pet, no pleasure boy with all the aggression and ferocity of his primitive fathers bred out of him.
Even so, the thought failed to caution. Instead, Raoul found himself even more aroused. He went to the bar and found the lubricant. Turning back, he saw Guy had not moved, cheek pressed against the window, feet spread wide apart. The man's gaze was bleak, fixed bitterly on nothing.
Raoul returned to the pet. He lay a hand lightly on Guy's back and felt muscles twitch. He covered a finger with lube and inserted it up the silent man's anus. There was something halfway between a sigh and a sob. The Blondie's own breathing grew ragged. He inserted another finger, prodding, stretching, eliciting small tremors. After several minutes, Raoul withdrew his fingers and covered his erection with the slick ointment. Slowly, taking his time, he buried himself in the young mongrel.
Guy caught his breath at the penetration. Raoul went still, holding the other man pinned to the window. He parted the long, damp hair and seized the nape of Guy's neck gently in his teeth. Guy shook. Alternately sucking and biting, Raoul worked his way down the long neck to a sweaty shoulder. He tasted salt and his own spicy soap. In the glass, dark eyes were wide and color touched the high cheekbones. The youth was exquisitely tight.
More and more, Raoul understood Iason's fascination with Riki. This morning, Guy had been sullen and a hair's breadth from insolence. Now he was all pliant submission, eyes closing, lips parting when Raoul began once more to move.
Sex with another human was new to the Blondie and he spent himself swiftly, pulling out, breathless, from the mongrel. Restoring his clothing to order, he stepped away. "Turn around," he said hoarsely.
Guy turned. He stood, framed by Tanagara's glittering lights and Raoul saw that his cock was stiff and dark. There was pleading in the look he gave Raoul.
The Blondie fell onto the long, low couch, legs akimbo, body tingling. That was part of the dangerous power of sex. It made him feel alive – no – it made him feel. Everything seemed brighter and sharper and possessing an intricacy of detail he'd never noticed before. "Go ahead," he said. "Bring yourself to climax."
Again there was that flash of defiance, that moment when Raoul was certain Guy would refuse. But the long, lean hands moved reluctantly down to clasp that magnificent erection. Eyes closed, lower lip caught in his teeth, Guy pumped, breath harshening. He came with a soft cry, head falling back against the glass. It was only in the fleeting seconds of orgasm that the mongrel lost his edgy, hostile facade and became, however briefly, something primal and ruthlessly seductive. Raoul's body sang in response to the sight.
Then Guy sank to his knees, folding forward. Dark hair swept forward to hide his lowered face.
"Come here."
The mongrel hesitated, then rose and walked to the couch, eyes wary once more. Raoul reached over and ran his hand down the Pet's flank. "Prepare my bath."
Later, immersed in the hot, scented water, Raoul studied the mongrel kneeling on the tiles nearby, ready to attend to him. "Do I infer that the day's reflection is responsible for your sudden eagerness to please?"
Color touched Guy's face and the familiar flash of anger sparked in those dark eyes. "I want something," he replied.
The bluntness of the reply simultaneously annoyed and amused Raoul who sat up, elbows on the high sides of the tub, and fixed his apprehensive Pet with a heavy-lidded stare. "What?"
"Can – can I see him?"
There was no need to ask who the boy meant. "No."
The dark head bent. Guy clenched his hands, pressing them against his thighs. "Please?"
"It's not up to me. Riki belongs to Iason and he's said specifically you are not to meet."
"That's not what I asked," replied Guy, clearly struggling to stay calm. "I know that bastard will never let Riki near me. I just want – all I'm asking is to see him."
"Riki loves Iason." Raoul was deliberately brutal. He saw the flinch and the involuntary flash of deep hurt. There was a moment's silence, then:
"I know." The admission was barely audible. For just a second, the mongrel looked completely bereft. Then his mouth tightened and he lifted his head.
"I'll think about it," Raoul said, intending no such thing.
The dark eyes fell.
"Isn't it exhausting?" asked the Blondie finally. "Your emotions are so extreme."
"It's better than having none at all!"
"Why?"
Guy opened and closed his mouth. Then he grinned bitterly. "You're right. I would much rather be like you, cold, calculating, selfish and unfeeling."
Raoul felt a flash of anger, sharp and unreasoning. Without thinking, he sat up, reaching over the edge of the tub, and struck the man across the face with a wet hand. The force of the blow sent Guy sprawling. Then, with a speed and violence that took Raoul completely by surprise, the mongrel was on his feet, lunging at the Blondie over the side of the tub. Raoul had time for a choking gasp before strong hands shoved him underwater.
The ring control was in the other room, prudently hidden, but useless. Guy had the advantage of balance and the strength of desperation. Panic beat at Raoul and he tore wildly, ineffectually at Guy, his hands slipping and sliding in the soapy water. Then cold reason clicked in and he stilled abruptly, focusing every sense on the hands holding him down. It came, the infinitesimal relaxing of those fingers as Guy reacted to Raoul's sudden change of behavior. A savage twist and jerk and Raoul pulled the mongrel off his feet and into the water.
They fought, tangled together in the tub's close confines, water splashing everywhere. Raoul finally got the upper hand, crushing the mongrel into the bottom of the now-empty tub and knocking him out with a single, savage cross-cut. Then, gasping, water running out of his nose and mouth, the Blondie dragged himself over the edge of the tub and collapsed onto the sopping floor. He lay, staring up into the ceiling, drawing breath after shuddering breath while his heart raced and his pulse pounded. Everything seemed outlined in shining haloes of gold. His skin felt electrified. Below his belly, his cock was ramrod stiff.
There was a groan from the tub. Raoul got to his feet, swaying a bit. His jaw ached and he possibly had a cracked rib or two. Sealing away the discomfort, he leaned over and hauled his fractious pet up by the hair. Guy's eyes opened, blank and confused. Raoul threw the mongrel to the floor, then fell upon him, forcing open Guy's legs and dragging his hips up. Guy struggled weakly, but to no avail. Raoul, fingers digging deep into wet, golden flesh, thrust into the pet with all the strength and violence of his rage. Guy screamed, bucking backwards, but his struggles did nothing more than increase Raoul's intense, dark rush of lust.
It was short, brutal and indescribably pleasurable. Raoul took his release before pushing away and rocking back on his heels. The wild, exultant feeling faded slowly. Guy drew himself into a small knot, burying his head in his arms.
After his heartbeat had settled and a deep quiet fell over the room, Raoul rose. He reached down and pulled Guy to his feet. The mongrel stared back at him with eyes that, incredibly, still held a spark of angry defiance. There was an unfamiliar tugging at the corners of Raoul's mouth. Guy muttered something and looked away. Releasing him, Raoul took a towel from the rack and wrapped it around himself.
"Clean this mess up," he said. "I'll order us dinner."