Consorts of the red king, p.25
Consorts of the Red King, page 25
Jorvik stiffened, then relaxed and cupped the back of Van’s head.
Just like old times, only, Jorvik wasn’t some anonymous guy found in a bar. In short order he’d become as much a part of the Cormorant as Tayn and Van.
Now to see how he reacted to the three of them together. Tayn ran his hands beneath the soft silk of Jorvik’s garment, caressing bare skin. Where there’d been smoothness before, now a thick mat grew, the same frosty-white of Jorvik’s hair.
Van relinquished Jorvik’s mouth and, with two fingers barely touching his chin, turned him to face Tayn. Jorvik swiped his tongue over his glistening lips, all the invitation Tayn needed.
He swore he tasted Van on Jorvik’s tongue. His fingers connected with Van’s on his journey across Jorvik’s body.
They’d shared men before, he and Van, or one watched while the other fucked someone else.
Always for a fuck, no one they planned to ever see again. Would adding a third to the mix on a more-than-short-term basis complicate things? Well, probably not since they didn’t stand a good chance of living through their next adventure. What the hell, most people thought them already dead.
Jorvik’s tongue sliding along his, warm hands on Tayn’s body, stole any other thoughts away. Never breaking the kiss, Jorvik settled Tayn on his back on the cushions.
Tayn watched as Jorvik and Van shared another kiss. Damn, but they looked hot together, contrasts of copper hair versus nearly colorless, and green eyes versus fathomless darkness.
Both sets of eyes trained on Tayn. Gods, his cock ached. But did he want Jorvik, someone new and exciting, or the comfort and familiarity Van offered?
They took the choice out of his hands, Van settling between his legs and taking Tayn’s cock into his mouth. He knew he’d done the right thing by being naked for this meeting.
As were Van and Jorvik, though he’d not noticed when clothes disappeared, or whose thoughts caused the change. Who cared with so much skin on display?
Jorvik knelt beside Tayn’s head, offering a cock slightly larger than last time. Tayn took the offering, matching his strokes and suction to Van’s.
The scent and taste of him, the feel of Van, holding his cock in one hand and swirling his tongue around the head. So good, so right. Van knew just how to suck him, how to keep him on edge, or how to send him plummeting over the cliff.
He let Jorvik’s moans and gentle thrusts guide him, teaching him how to please his new lover.
Tayn lifted his hips, setting a faster rhythm. Van withdrew with a chuckle. “Impatient?” He crawled up the cushions, putting him within sucking distance of Jorvik’s stiff flesh. Tayn released his mouthful, licking up one side of Jorvik’s cock while Van ran his mouth up the other. Their tongues connected, and they stopped to share a sloppy kiss.
Gods, the man. His mouth. His body. Why hadn’t they spent every waking moment kissing, loving each other, instead of merely enjoying an occasional buddy fuck? They’d passed being buddies eons ago.
Tayn took Van’s hardness into his hand and stroked. Yes, yes, yes.
Van urged Jorvik down with a hand to his chest, hefting Tayn up with the other. “Bossy, much?” Tayn asked, without any heat.
Van slid a finger up and down the crack of Tayn’s ass, pressing in but not fully penetrating. Tayn growled his frustration, until Van lined him up with Jorvik’s hole.
Oh, yeah. He shoved his hips forward, easily breaching the tight ring of muscle at Jorvik’s entrance. Oh, sweet, sweet virtual reality where nothing hurt unless he conjured too much realism into his fantasy. With the level of experience he’d gained over the years, he never needed lube, and he could fuck from the ceiling if he properly shaped his environment.
With his luck he’d lose concentration halfway though and wind up crashing down, or something. Who knew the full extent of the rules, what could and couldn’t be accomplished?
Right now, fuck the rules.
Jorvik rocked up into his strokes while Van knelt beside them, kissing one, then the other, while stroking Jorvik’s cock.
Van took Tayn’s mouth, moaning as he performed a well-practiced dance of tongues. Gods, he loved this man. That information would likely follow Tayn to his grave. Things might get too awkward if he confessed his true feelings. Still, he couldn’t help bringing his hand up, cupping the side of Van's face, reveling in each and every touch.
Their eyes met and held, understanding passing between them. Van flicked his gaze to Jorvik and back. Yes, equal time.
Tayn put more of his weight on his legs, lifted Jorvik’s calves to his shoulders, and sought a better angle. If Jorvik’s whimpers were any indication, he’d found the magic spot.
Securing Jorvik’s ass in his hands, he snapped his hips, driving farther inside. This might all be in his head, might not exist outside the ship’s mind, but damn, it felt real enough to him. Van peppered kisses on his shoulders, hand on Tayn’s ass rising and falling with each stroke.
Tightening began in his groin, the pressure building with each forceful thrust.
“I’m gonna cum,” he croaked out, redoubling his efforts. Gods of a thousand planets. How damned good, pooling liquid heat in this groin and curling his toes. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh…
Van jacked Jorvik’s cock to Jorvik’s chanted litany, “Oh, Queen of Stars, oh stars, oh stars…”
Leaning in to join his mouth to Van’s, Tayn jerked, filling Jorvik’s body. Once, twice, three times he shot, chills racing up his arms and legs, down his spine.
Jorvik tightened around him. “Ah, ah, ah!” He shuddered, spasms rocking him as he found his release.
Van, still on his knees on the cushions, reached beneath his balls with one hand and stroked himself with the other. Head thrown back, eyes closed, he finished what started with a kiss, spattering droplets of cum on Jorvik’s chest.
They lay on the cushions together in silence, enjoying the afterglow, Van and Tayn, with Jorvik in the middle, drinking his fill of skin on skin contact, even if only virtually. Van absently ran a hand up and down Tayn’s arm. If only the others could join him permanently, live out their lives in cyberspace.
Never leave him.
Chapter Thirty
The Cormorant
An alarm claxon vibrated throughout the ship.
Tayn zipped through the ship, checking sensors. A ship, barely a blip now, but fast approaching, sending out a general hail. Fuck! They weren’t ready yet. So much he needed to learn before proving to the world the crew of the Cormorant still lived.
At least they approached a Coalition ship, and Van wasn’t in the ship’s circuitry at the moment, necessitating a lengthy return to his body.
“They’re hailing us,” Tayn said, ready to broadcast a “Go fuck yourself” message. For nearly three weeks they’d managed to stay put, going over their plans with Connell and Stone.
Jorvik changed more every day. They couldn’t wait much longer to launch their attack.
So now who the hell showed up to ruin their plans?
“They know we’re here. We might as well answer them.” Van heaved out weariness in his sigh. He took his place in the captain’s chair and opened frequencies.
Yeah, planning a full-scale invasion wore a guy out.
The Commander’s visage filled the screen. Oh shit! No account sonofabitch!
Showing no recognition, Commander Shithead said in his best official voice, “I’d like to speak with King Jorvik of Akiak.”
The bastard found out they’d escaped the station. Figured. Tayn might suspect Connell and Stone of leaking intel, but no, they hated the Federation too.
In Tayn’s mind, Commander’s showing up proved his guilt in wiping out all those people on the space station in hopes of ridding the universe of three. And possibly installing a hidden tracker on board the Cormorant. No amount of searching found one, however.
Which proved nothing.
His and Van’s former boss often talked about collateral damage. One day, hopefully soon, Tayn could shove collateral damage right up Commander’s ass. One of his asses. Whatever.
Van reclined leisurely in the captain’s chair, betraying no surprise at the commander’s appearance. Of the two of them, Van had a better poker face, though a muscle twitched in his jaw.
Tayn answered the question. “He’s in the cargo bay doing some kind of weird meditation shit.” No way, no how, could he let anyone see Jorvik in his current state, totally unrecognizable as the lithe young man he’d originally appeared to be.
Each day he looked more and more like Stone, proving the genetic engineering stories true. Whatever the ancestor put into the red king shit Jorvik took might mimic the synth drugs the Federation pumped into Stone and his ilk to make them impervious to most weapons.
Two of Commander’s eyes narrowed. “Let me speak to him, and that’s a direct order.”
Van held his ground. “We don’t answer to you anymore, dickhead.”
Commander ignored him.
Jorvik’s voice came across the speakers, as soft and musical as ever. “Greetings, Commander. I apologize for not being on the bridge to see you face to face. It’s my culture’s habit to seek solitary meditation in times of trouble.”
How the hell was his voice sounding so polite and normal?
“No problem, Highness. I wanted to see for myself if you were well. I heard about the unfortunate accident on the station.”
Unfortunate accident?
“I am well, and thank you for your concern. I’m pleased to know you, too, escaped unharmed.” Oh, but Jorvik shoved one hell of a lot of innuendo into his otherwise civil exchange. Funny. Somehow over the past few weeks the otherwise well-mannered king developed a sense of sarcasm.
And sounded like Tayn on occasion. Van accused them of spending way too much time over holovids and chess.
Van’s brow furrowed, but Tayn didn’t ask the question on his mind with the commander on their vid. They seemed at an impasse, Jorvik refusing to appear onscreen and Commander making small talk and failing to get to the point.
“Look, you four-eyed sumbitch, you didn’t pick us to work for you ‘cause we’re stupid. We know good and damned well you tried to kill us.” Keeping his eyes on the screen, Van reached down and tapped the manual controls, programming in a hyperjump.
Connell and Stone didn’t make their presence known, but Tayn sensed them listening in.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was beside myself, thinking you’d met your end. Imagine my surprise to find out you not only escaped unscathed, but you didn’t contact me.” The boss—former boss— made one hell of an actor, though he didn’t fool Tayn for an instant.
“Okay. You checked in. You’re still alive, we’re still alive. Did you bring any Coalition ships?” Van yanked his hand away from his face. Yup, he’d been about to chew his fingernails, a decade-old bad habit.
“Why, no, I—”
“His weapons are charging to fire,” Connell barked through the ship’s speakers.
Motherfuck!
Van engaged the hyperjump. He’d only bought them a small amount of time, but he’d take what he could get. The moment the screen went blank he charged down the corridor, nearly dove through the opening below, and dashed to the cargo bay.
Jorvik wore a pair of Van’s pants, the material stretched tight across his thighs. They hadn’t found a shirt to fit. The vision before him brought to mind the image Van saw the first time he’d landed on Akiak, the monstrous being yanking a man’s heart out of his chest with bare hands.
The commander knew about them, hadn’t brought a Coalition force, and prepared to fire, so must have switched sides. Then again, they’d trusted Commander’s word about his loyalties to begin with. Men lied. Why not Commander’s race?
Van stopped, heart trying to crawl out through his throat. He approached slowly, holding one hand out to the man he hardly recognized. “Are you okay?”
Jorvik nodded and growled.
Van cupped Jorvik’s face in his hands, running the tip of his index fingers over the fangs now protruding from Jorvik’s mouth. So many changes in a short period of time, and yet Jorvik’s beauty endured, fangs notwithstanding. “How were you talking?”
“Seems Connell and Stone synthed some of his conversations and put them together,” Tayn answered.
Van nodded. Nice plan. “Are they in place?”
“We’re here, Captain.” What? Oh. Damn. Must be soldier Stone. Captain worked.
Tayn took over. “Okay, change of plans. They now know we’re here, so we moved up the timeline. Van, Jorvik, once the fighting starts, you gotta get down to the surface. Connell and Stone will gather all the intelligence they can from up here, see what cooperation they can get from the ships. We need you on the ground, Jorvik. Taking Akiak is only part of the problem. Then we have to keep it, and we need support from the people. They won’t fight for us, but they will fight for their king.”
This plan would’ve worked so much easier with Coalition backing. But no, they likely kept ships just out of sensor range, waiting to swoop in and snatch the spoils when the takeback failed.
It wouldn’t fail. They couldn’t afford to fail.
Jorvik’s body was made for battle, heavily muscled, with more of an exoskeleton than skin. How could this be the same man Van took to his bed?
“Does it hurt?” he asked, stroking his finger over a pronounced cheekbone.
Jorvik gave his head a soft shake and stopped. “Some,” he replied, the word barely discernable around the mouthful of teeth.
He stepped forward, dark gaze both familiar and terrifying at the same time, and lifted a hand three times the size of Van’s. “If I’d known I’d meet you and Tayn, I’d never have…” He dropped his gaze. “You must think me a monster.” Jorvik’s lips moved, the words traveling through Van’s translation implant.
“No, you’re not a monster.” Van rose up on his toes, gently gripping either side of Jorvik’s head. Heart racing, he planted a kiss on lips so different from how they were the first time he kissed the man he’d thought a servant.
Today they’d fight, having run out of options. The commander knew they lived, and even now might be warning the Federation, or whoever else held his leash. The war could end today, or like other skirmishes, last for years. Once they won—and they would win—Jorvik would have no further use for a worn-out spacer—or a pair of them.
What then? Van never asked, didn’t dare ask now. He might not survive the day, or the war.
Jorvik would, he had to.
And Tayn.
Jorvik said after the battle he’d have to be put down like some rabid dog. Not on Van’s watch. Maybe the man just needed incentive.
“Promise me something,” Van murmured, sure Jorvik’s sensitive hearing picked up his words. With any luck Tayn wouldn’t hear him too.
“Anything.” Jorvik spoke a word and sent Van’s translation implant into a frenzy of decoding, ending in, “Does not compute.”
“If anything happens to me. Promise me you’ll take care of the Cormorant. Take care of Tayn.”
Jorvik stiffened, neck muscles bulging. “You are my mates. Nothing will happen to you. I will not allow it.”
Mates? Did he mean “mates” in the way Van’s former brothers-in-arms used the word?
Van patted Jorvik’s arm. “I know. Promise me anyway. And do what you can to get Tayn a body. He doesn’t deserve to be stuck on a ship his whole life.” A life stretching as long as the Cormorant held together.
Would Tayn one day choose to end his life rather than exist only as a part of the ship? Did the other sentient ships feel the same? What an awful way to live.
Tayn needed reason to live too.
Red king, serum, geneticists be damned. Van would lose his own life before he allowed his men to die.
Connell and Stone sat on the floor in the Cormorant’s cyberspace, a map laid out in front of them.
For the first time the former Federation soldier acted as spokesman. “You say the caves are lined with crystals?”
“Yes.” Jorvik traced off portions of the map with his finger. “The greatest concentration is here”—he pointed to the palace— “and here”—he indicated the northern realms.
Thank the queen of stars Jorvik could visualize himself without fangs and claws in here. Within the ship’s circuitry, he could be humanoid again, and therefore easily understandable. He also felt less of a monster, more willing to allow his mates to look at him.
“You’re thinking too narrow.” Stone stood, motioning Jorvik up with his hand.
Jorvik cast a quick glance at Van, who shrugged. He joined Stone in standing. “What do you mean?”
Stone waved a hand at their surroundings. “Even here, you tie yourself to the comfortable, the known. There are few rules in cyberspace. You recreate cushions and what’s familiar, as do your companions. You can do so much more.”
“Like what?”
“Instead of the usual settings, show me areas you traveled in the caverns and can clearly visualize. They could be useful to us.”
“Useful?” Jorvik caught motion from the corner of his eye, and a moment later Van stood beside him.
“How about the caves you showed me when we escaped.” Van stepped close.
Jorvik liked him close. Concentrating, he tried to imagine himself in the caves, the glittering crystals, the gathered pools, the steps leading up to the palace. Nothing happened.
“Let me help you.” Van placed a hand on his shoulder.
The air shimmered around them and shifted, forming rudimentary walls. Focusing all his will on the vague outlines, Jorvik worked to see them more clearly. Like fog lifting, the half-formed images solidified: the passageway right outside his old rooms.
Stone turned right and left, running his fingers over the glowing walls. The glow intensified, as though they actually stood in the caves beneath the palace. “Are these formations close to accurate?”
