Consorts of the red king, p.16
Consorts of the Red King, page 16
“He’s probably with the commander.”
“The commander?” How did Tayn know?
“Big guy, lots of limbs. He’s our boss.”
“The commander escorted me here, then disappeared. Van wasn’t with us.”
Tayn remained quiet for a few moments. “Yep, there’s the commander on the scan. He’s in a landing bay.” More silence. “Van’s near the core. My bet’s on a bar.”
“When will he be back?” He’d no time for this. They needed to act, and act now. Every moment they delayed put more of Jorvik’s people at risk. Then again, what could he do until he heard from the commander? The commander.
Jorvik didn’t know the man’s species, but had met his kind before. Someone who’d do anything, say anything, promise anything to get their way. He’d rather trust Van, someone with a price he could meet.
“Not for a few hours yet. He’ll get shit-faced, maybe meet up with the boss for a while, then find someone to plow.”
What? Shit-faced? Plow? “You speak standard Spacer, don’t you?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I do not understand why Van would choose to apply excrement to his face, and the nearest fields to plow are on Anteres One.”
Again, laughter rattled through the speakers. “Shit-faced means to get drunk.”
“If you mean ‘get drunk’, why don’t you merely say ‘get drunk’?” These spacers and their strange ways. No good could possibly come of listening to them.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“What about the plowing? Van doesn’t strike me as the farming type.”
“Plowed means he’s going to find someone willing and shove his cock up their ass.”
“Why must he find someone? I…” Heat rushed to Jorvik’s face. Was he catching a fever? How humiliating to escape his uncle’s clutches only to die of some alien sickness.
“You what?” the voice urged.
“I… I wouldn’t object.” There, he’d confessed.
“Oh, I wouldn’t either, but it’s something he does when in port. You know, get some strange.”
Jorvik paced six strides to the far wall and returned. Back and forth, back and forth. How did Van stand spending so much of his life confined like a pet in a cage? “Get some strange? Is this another of your odd sayings that doesn’t mean what it sounds like?”
“I suppose.”
“Because if he wanted something strange, I’ve never met anyone stranger than your commander.”
The ship lurched in its moorings. Jorvik grabbed the captain’s chair to stay upright. What the… An asteroid storm perhaps? After a moment he realized the odd, shrill sounds to be laughter.
“Oh, man, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. I wouldn’t say this to his face, but yes, the commander is pretty strange.”
Enough of this wasting time. “Tell Van I need to talk to him. Now.” Whatever Van did in port paled in comparison to retaking Akiak.
“Why can’t you talk to me?” Disappointment permeated the tones. A ship? Pouting?
Jorvik folded his arms over his chest. Was Tayn even aware of his defiant pose? “Because I can’t see you.”
“Yes, you can.” A doorway opened in the wall, one Jorvik vaguely remembered. “Strip down, take the second chair. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but my chair seems to like you. Come on in. We’ve got a few hours to kill before Van gets back.”
Did he dare? The last time he’d entered the hidden chamber had been a dream, right? The disembodied voice taking on human form? Without really knowing why or how he got there, Jorvik found himself in the quarters he’d claimed for his own, piece by piece removing his outer mantel, tunic, and the waist sash.
He’d met artificial lifeforms before, but no matter how advanced the technology, science never managed to match human emotions. The ship nearly sulked when Jorvik preferred to talk to Van.
How bizarre.
While Tayn appeared humanoid, spoke Spacer, and intimated a close relationship with Van, what motivated him? What could Jorvik offer to obtain his loyalty?
To restore Akiak, Jorvik needed a ship, this one, sleek and fast, yet relatively unobtrusive. From the Cormorant he could lay groundwork, and none be the wiser of his plans until he appeared in Akiak’s orbit with a full fleet.
For his plans to become reality, he’d need allies: Tayn, the Cormorant, and the being they all answered to: the commander.
Jorvik folded his clothes, stored them back in his bag, and padded barefoot, and bare all over, to the chair Tayn indicated.
His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. Tubes and wires slithered from concealed compartments, stroking over his skin.
He held his breath to stifle a scream. The appendages slithered like the creatures in the Southern sea, who killed with one bite. Sweat broke out on his brow.
He held his breath on the first stick, wincing as each needle-sharp spike pierced his skin. No! He couldn’t do this! He needed out! Out now!
Slowly his terror bled away.
Had he fallen asleep? Merely passed from consciousness?
Mist swirled around him in a formless place.
Arms enfolded him from behind, warm arms, decidedly solid. The lips sliding along his neck were very much alive, hot, moist. “Hello, beautiful,” a husky voice murmured into his ear.
No! Leave! Now!
The arms tightened, holding him firmly but not restraining. “Shh…” the voice said. “It’s a little disorienting at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
Jorvik stood still, panting, sucking in harsh breaths and sending air from his body in a whoosh. His heart calmed, slowing.
It stopped.
What?
“Your body isn’t here, just your consciousness,” the voice said. “You don’t need to breathe, nor have a heartbeat. You can create those things if they make you feel better. Van does.”
Van! Where was Van?
The man—thing? —holding him relaxed, turning him so they stood face to face.
Images tickled his memory. The ship. He’d found his way into the ship’s circuitry. Somehow.
“Much better.” Tayn ran his lips over Jorvik’s jaw, skating his hands up Jorvik’s sides. “Van definitely knows how to pick them.”
Before Jorvik managed to pull away, Tayn’s mouth descended on his. He gasped, the parting of his lips allowing Tayn’s tongue inside his mouth.
If they possessed no bodies, how then were they…
“Don’t overthink it,” Tayn pulled away enough to whisper, “just feel. Once you realize how unencumbered we are, you’ll enjoy yourself more.”
Unencumbered, away from the world. A dream then. Or a fantasy, where Jorvik’s mind freely wandered.
Jorvik ran his hands up the firm muscles of Tayn’s upper arms to his shoulders, rejoining their mouths and swirling his tongue with the spacer’s.
“That’s the spirit.” Tayn chuckled against Jorvik’s lips.
“What about Van?” Jorvik managed to ask. Would Van expect to use Jorvik’s body in return for his assistance? Would he be possessive if Jorvik entertained himself with Tayn? Especially since Van seemed to be seeking out his own amusements.
What if he refused to help if Jorvik had sex with his partner?
He’d not dared take a lover during his time as Dooren. He yearned for the intimacy of two bodies together, longing for touch.
“What about Van?” Tayn repeated Jorvik’s words. No concern shadowed his face. Was he so uncaring about his partner? No wonder Van sought out others for his bed.
“You and he are…” Would taking Van as consort anger Tayn?
“Warm bodies that feel good together. Your body feels good too. Does mine?”
Yes. Yes, it did.
Even while in school he’d not met lovers so bold and assertive as Van and Tayn. Chills would have flashed over Jorvik’s skin if he’d been in his body. Maybe somewhere, in the chair with the tubes and wires, he shivered.
He’d named Van consort, for his own protection. Van hadn’t repeated the vow, spoke no love words. Would he? Would Tayn? Did Jorvik really want them to?
“Let me see where you live,” Tayn said, breaking away and leading Jorvik through the mists.
Slowly, slowly, dim greenish light pushed back the shapelessness, revealing the silk-draped padding of Jorvik’s bed. His bed. In the palace.
He flinched, glancing to the floor. No bodies. No beautiful young men, stilled forever.
Just carpets, crystals, his other possessions.
“This is where you live?” Tayn stooped and stroked a hand over the silk bedcovers.
“Where I used to.” And where he’d first lain with Van. A place he’d never wanted to see again. Somehow, here, now, didn’t hold the horrors he’d expected. Where he lived? Did Jorvik even have a home now?
Tayn urged him onto the bed with a hand to the chest.
Only then did Jorvik notice their nakedness. “We’re not wearing clothes.”
One side of Tayn’s mouth quirked up. “Convenient, isn’t it?”
Yes. Too convenient.
This couldn’t be all in Jorvik’s mind. Tayn’s weight settling over him felt real, the slide of skin over skin, the burn of Tayn’s lips upon his shoulders and neck.
Tayn’s muscular build spoke of hard work, heavy lifting, while Jorvik’s slimmer form spoke of a life of relative leisure—or vastly different genetics.
Tayn stared into his eyes, reaching between their bodies to grasp his erect flesh. “You want this?”
Did he? He wanted many things: to recover his home, allies, but mostly at the moment, to lose himself in forgetfulness.
Jorvik finally nodded. Real or not, fantasy or reality, his cock hardened to stone, straining against his and Tayn’s bellies. He wanted. Tayn wanted. They were naked. On his bed.
Maybe he dreamed. Dreams should be pleasant, not the recent nightmares.
He parted his thighs to welcome Tayn inside.
“Not so fast. I want to learn this body of yours before I make it sing.”
Sing? Why would Jorvik’s body sing?
Warm heat latched onto his nipple, and he hissed. It felt, it felt… Ah… He arched up. More. He wanted, no, needed more. Every swipe of Tayn’s tongue or gentle nip of teeth sent shocks to Jorvik’s groin.
Pressure built.
“I want you inside me.” Jorvik opened his legs wider, allowing Tayn to settle between.
Tayn snickered. “Now how can I say no to a king?”
King. Jorvik was no king, not now, merely a man craving what another could offer. He bucked up, stealing friction against the muscles of Tayn’s stomach.
Tayn’s hard length pressed back, sliding along Jorvik’s, thicker but shorter, proportionate to Tayn’s exquisitely built body.
Needing air or no, Jorvik sucked in a breath when Tayn breached him with a finger, sliding in without the help of oil. Virtual. Not really here. Summoning what they needed out of fantasy.
Too much to take in. He’d nearly reached for the container of lubricant normally kept in his room.
“Don’t think, just feel,” Tayn urged.
After everything, his father’s death, his own supposed death, his pretending to be someone else just to live, leaving home…
Yes, more than anything, Jorvik needed to shut off his mind, open himself to feelings.
Featherlight touches on his skin, the barest hint of lips against his eyelids, the unusual lack of taste when he opened his mouth and allowed Tayn’s tongue inside. Glorious feelings.
The imaginary silk felt cool against his back, the pillow soft beneath his head. The tip of Tayn’s cock nudged his opening and Jorvik braced for the burn, the intrusion.
Pleasure, only pleasure, the tensing and releasing of Tayn’s muscles as he flexed and sank into Jorvik’s body. Jorvik traced the dips and hollows of Tayn’s back with his fingers, arching his head back for the gentle nips Tayn rained down on his neck.
Good. So good.
The bedding undulated beneath him, rocked with each powerful thrust of Tayn’s hips, the thrusts pushing his hard length into Jorvik’s innermost parts.
Clear drops leaked from the tip of his cock. Tayn captured the droplets in one hand, using them to lubricate Jorvik’s shaft.
Up and down, in and out, feeling, feeling, feeling…
Tayn’s lips on his, the occasional heart wrench when Jorvik took in the dimly glowing walls of his old room. Dark curls covered Tayn’s chest, so different from Jorvik’s nearly hairless body, as was the courser hair caressing the fingers Jorvik skated down Tayn’s arm.
Tayn hit the perfect spot inside of him with each forceful stroke, Jorvik’s higher-pitched pants and sharp exhalations contrasting with the spacer’s deep, rumbling grunts.
Nearly animalistic in their intensity, they fucked, no other word worked. Off-worlders liked to dress things up with useless terms like making love. Nothing loving about two men grunting and rutting against each other, both set on the same goal.
Their groans and cries mingled, the slapping of their bodies together adding rhythm. Tayn felt so good inside of him, stretching him so perfectly, filling him, chasing away his dark thoughts and putting him clearly and irrevocably in the moment.
Pressure built inside, the tides rising higher than on worlds with twin moons. The waves of pleasure rolled around him… through him.
Digging his fingertips into Tayn’s shoulders, Jorvik threw back his head. “Ah, ah!” The pressure peaked, sending him over the edge in a flinching, convulsing, spurting mess of scorched nerve endings.
He bowed up off the bed, plastering his mouth to Tayn’s, catching Tayn’s wails on his tongue as Tayn let go deep inside of him.
They held each other until the world stopped shaking. Jorvik flopped onto the bed, relishing the coolness of the covers against overheated skin. All in my mind, he reminded himself.
Yet, so convincing.
Tayn dropped down next to him, rolled onto his side, and flung an arm and a leg around Jorvik.
Without thinking, Jorvik nestled into the embrace. Ah, to be held, skin on skin.
Tayn’s chuckle tickled Jorvik’s ear. “A cuddler. Me likey.”
Jorvik could get used to this, being held in a lover’s arms, when he’d despaired of ever feeling safe again.
Van was a different case. They’d stayed together simply because Van didn’t trust Jorvik and Jorvik needed a ride off-planet. Waking up with an arm around him had been an unusual experience. Not exactly uncomfortable, just—different.
But yet, he’d felt safe then too.
“Oh, man, I think we’re gonna get along just fine.” Tayn’s amusement bubbled up from inside of him. He laughed a lot, smiled a lot, so unlike Van with his gruff, businesslike manner.
Tayn tensed, arm tightening around Jorvik.
A moment later the bed disappeared. Jorvik found himself sitting in what could have been the Cormorant’s control center, staring out at space. His newfound acquaintance bent over the console, flipping switches.
“What’s wrong?” Jorvik gripped the arms of the chair he found himself in.
“Meteor storm heading this way.” Something deep in the ship moaned. After a moment he relaxed into his chair. “Sorry about that. I usually don’t go from sex to co-pilot so fast.” Tayn shrugged. “I kinda forgot we were in port. I’m used to putting up shields. But what can you do?”
“Do about what?” Although he’d spent time with those from different worlds, sometimes the odd things they said left Jorvik baffled. However, the way Tayn jumped to fix a perceived problem, most impressive.
Belying his carefree façade. This man, deep down, cared. Could he be convinced to care about Jorvik?
“Have you ever watched a holovid?” Tayn asked.
The students he’d known at school spent far too many hours hunched over videos. Some were normally scheduled programs, dramatics performed by actors. Some were free form, family-made messages from home. Others? No matter the kink, or species of choice, there’d be holovids. Some so bizarre he wished he could unsee them. “Yes.”
Tayn regarded him for a long moment. “I’ve got an assignment for you to learn old Terran sayings. And I’m starting the countdown to send you back to your body.”
Jorvik woke in an empty ship and hurriedly dressed in breeches and a tunic. His own no longer fit. He borrowed Tayn’s instead. Settling on the bed he’d claimed, he stared at the blank space on the desk in the cramped quarters. “I’m ready,” he said.
“So begins the corruption of Jorvik.” Tayn’s laughter rang out over the ship. On the desktop, images formed. “This is one of my favorite shows.”
Despite his best intentions, Jorvik found himself engrossed in the story of two tri-color-eyed aliens and their quest to find… something… hidden among the stars. “Stop,” he said, every few minutes. “Tayn, what do they mean?”
Yes, off-worlders made language as difficult as possible.
For the sake of his mission, he must understand.
Chapter Nineteen
Van knocked back another shot of something he’d regret come morning. Of all the fixes he’d gotten himself into over the years, he’d definitely taken a wrong turn to wind up in his current predicament.
He’d spent his whole life keeping his head down, avoiding notice. Now a self-labeled king of a world equally as obscure as Van tried to elbow into his life.
Consort. What the hell? Jorvik pretty much blurted out they’d been banging to all those hoity-toity officials. And the commander.
He signaled the bartender for another drink.
If anyone got wind of his new situation—and believed it—he’d lose his credibility.
He needed that credibility to get answers. Close proximity to peacekeepers and prison didn’t stop the criminal element from frequenting the station. Criminals who might give him those answers.
If something existed on the black market, he’d only to hang out in a space station bar to find it. Who might’ve tried to steal Tayn’s body, or the Cormorant?
Then again, maybe someone had information to sell on Akiak. Newsfeeds scrolled through the bar top in front of him. He swiped his hand over the images to identify himself as Terran and pick Spacer for language.
