Amorous Overnight Page 4

  “Getting out or not, Hastion?” he inquired with an amused arch of his black brow.

  Hastion continued forward without answering and stalked down the corridor toward the minister’s suite, his jaw tight. Could he never escape Shauss’s Powers-damned brother? All he wanted was to forget the humiliation of Zannen’s brutish paw reconnoitering his erection, but apparently Peserin, in all her infinite wisdom, deemed him needful of a daily reminder.

  Ever since the debacle of their staged fight last week, the huge, bald sublieutenant seemed to be everywhere he went. Zannen had had an erection that day too, but no one imagined his was inspired by anything other than the female pheromones saturating the air. They knew Hastion’s erection wasn’t inspired by pheromones, since his sister’s had made him quite ill, and they probably didn’t believe his claim that it was inspired by the adrenaline of the fight any more than he did.

  Fortunately, he appeared to be the only one dwelling on the matter. No one else gave any indication they even remembered his arousal, and Zannen was no more obnoxious now than he’d been before. In fact, his behavior since then could almost be described as affable, which was just as unsettling as his obnoxiousness. Apparently mating with the gorgeous Dr. Teague after more than ten years of abstinence could tame even the surliest male.

  Taking a calming breath, Hastion approached the door to the minister’s dining entrance and was admitted without announcement.

  “Good evening, Ensign.” Already seated at the head of the table, the minister gestured to the seat on his left. “Please join me.”

  Though he was startled to see the leader of his people barefoot, wearing only white mabi pants and tunic, Hastion bowed respectfully. “Thank you, Minister.”

  He took the assigned seat and watched silently as the steward brought in a tray laden with a variety of Garathani dishes. When plates were laid in front of them, the minister immediately began to fill his own, so Hastion followed suit.

  It was odd, and not entirely comfortable, to dine alone with the most powerful male in the galaxy. In fact, it was distinctly uncomfortable. Not even the vaguest crumb of conversation came to mind, and watching Cecine’s long, nimble fingers pick a roll of brown lelly bread into pieces, then dip them in guta jelly and deposit them between his very mobile lips in such a leisurely fashion, stirred something deep in Hastion’s belly.

  Disconcerted, he washed down a mouthful of firi with a swallow of ale, wishing he could think of something—anything—to say. But the only subject on his mind was the possibility he was about to be named the minister’s second, and it wasn’t his place to bring it up.

  Cecine slouched against one arm of his chair while he continued to pluck morsels from his plate. “Congratulations, Ensign,” he said in a casual tone, “your boldness has served you well. I’m prepared to offer you second position in my bond with Shelley Bonham, provided you’re willing to offer certain concessions in return.”

  Hastion blinked in disbelief. Just like that, he was second? “Name them, sir. They’re yours.”

  The minister smiled wryly. “You may wish to reconsider that stance, Ensign, once you hear them.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I sincerely doubt it.”

  “All right.” He tore off another piece of bread and dragged it through his jelly. “First, for her own safety and that of everyone else aboard, Ms. Bonham will not be informed of our mating for the next few months. I’ve discussed the matter with Dr. Tiber and he sees the wisdom of allowing her time to recover from her husband’s death and betrayal, and to adjust to the demands of motherhood, before we add to her concerns.”

  Caught off guard, Hastion frowned. He disliked the idea of beginning their bond with a lengthy deception—that was why he’d offered himself as second, to help her adjust to the mating. But arguing with the minister hardly seemed prudent.

  “She has been through a great deal,” he began tentatively.

  “Yes, she has,” Cecine agreed, “and since she’s allowed up to a year’s postpartum exclusion from intercourse, I see no point in rushing to inform her of our bond. The more time she has to dread the mating bed, the more likely she is to do something foolish and potentially deadly to evade it the way your sister did, especially while Earth is still within visual range.”

  It was a valid argument, but still Hastion hesitated. He valued Shelley’s ease with him more than just about anything in his life at the moment. At the compound, she’d never tensed around him the way she did most of the warriors, and though she tended to turn pink and avoid eye contact after the interspecies mating demonstration, she’d always had a shy smile for him. When the infected steripod attached itself to Dr. Ketrok in the infirmary just a week ago, she’d burrowed into Hastion’s bare chest as though he were the only thing standing between her and certain death, and he had never felt more powerful—or more humble.

  “Sir, Shelley trusts me,” he finally said. “If I deceive her—”

  “Your objection is noted, Ensign, and you may lay the blame for the deception squarely at my door. But the news of our mating will remain restricted to males until I decide otherwise. That’s nonnegotiable. I can’t imagine that Monica and Jasmine would be able to keep such a thing from her.”

  And that was the end of that. “As you wish, sir.”

  Cecine finally poked the jelly-laden bread he was holding into his mouth and chewed slowly, watching Hastion as though weighing him in his mind. Just when Hastion was about to expire from the suspense, he continued, “Second, I’ve decided that until such time as Ms. Bonham is able and willing to accommodate me in the mating chamber, I must have another mate who will do so.”

  Confused, Hastion frowned again. Males could only be bonded to one female. Surely even the minister wasn’t entitled to—

  “I understand this sort of service is not a generally accepted provision of the ancillary mating agreement and I’ll bear you no ill will if you’re disinclined to accept. I’m sure I’ll find another male who’s willing to do so.”

  Hastion’s breath left him and he broke into a hot, prickly sweat. Holy Powers, had the minister of the high council just announced a desire to fuck him?

  Tugging on his collar, which suddenly seemed to be strangling him, he managed to ask, “Sir, what, exactly, are you requiring of your second?”

  The minister leaned forward with a penetrating look, resting his long, pale forearms on the table’s white surface. “If you accept the terms of my offer, you’re agreeing to be sodomized at some reasonable and mutually agreed-upon interval until such time as Ms. Bonham’s exclusion has been lifted and she’s willing to offer herself in whatever capacity she is able.”

  Hastion stared back as the word sodomized echoed in the suddenly empty cavern of his head, his heart pounding so violently in his throat it actually made his breath sounds pulse. Although there was no Garathani equivalent for that word, he knew all too well what it meant.

  “I’m going to be perfectly candid with you, Ensign,” the minister continued. “During our last six months at the Beaumont-Thayer compound, I paid handsomely for the exclusive use of one of the compound secretaries, who put very few limitations on my enjoyment of her body. I became quite spoiled to the privilege.”

  And he’d thought he couldn’t be any more dumbfounded. “But…I thought you—”

  Suddenly realizing what he was about to do, Hastion clamped his mouth shut. Accusing the minister of lying could be bad for his health as well as his career.

  “Yes, Ensign?” Cecine asked in a mild tone.

  Hastion swallowed. “It’s not important, sir.”

  “I want to hear it anyway.”

  Peserin’s hell. He took a shaky breath. “Sir, when I was standing guard in the auditorium just before the compound was bombed, you said you hadn’t touched a female since the Narthani biowar attack.”

  He remembered the moment as much for the raw emotion etched on the minister’s face when he hugged his daughter Monica as for the arrival of the Ameri
can bombers.

  “Actually, what I said was that I hadn’t felt a feminine hand in mine or a kiss upon my cheek in more than ten years.” Cecine leaned back with a smile that struck Hastion as rather ironic and continued, “I spoke the truth, Ensign. Affectionate gestures didn’t number among the services I negotiated with the secretary. She made her body available for my use at any hour of the day or night, for as many hours as I required it, and even went so far as to utilize some sort of birth control measure that inhibited her menses—although I believe that was more for her comfort than mine since I made it clear that her body’s natural processes wouldn’t inhibit my desire for intercourse with her. She was visibly horrified to hear that Garathani females are at their most demanding during their menses.”

  Inundated with more information and images than his stricken brain could process, Hastion said numbly, “I wouldn’t know about that, sir.”

  “You never had intercourse with a Garathani female, did you?”

  “No, sir.”

  Those unreadable gray eyes studied him intently, making it difficult to remain still. “The mating demonstration was your first sexual encounter.” When Hastion nodded, Cecine said, “And you exercised caution in deference to her size.”

  “Yes, sir, although she assured me it wasn’t necessary.”

  “I won’t afford you any such care,” Cecine assured him flatly. “You’re a warrior of worth and I’ll treat you as such, to the extent that I’m able under the circumstances. In fact, I won’t give you any more quarter in the mating bed than I would in the sparring arena. I fuck with my entire body and do not enjoy holding back, especially when I’m frustrated with other matters.”

  Flaming embarrassment and molten arousal threatened to burst Hastion wide open right there at the table. He hadn’t felt so naïve, so hideously exposed and vulnerable, since the night his father discovered him with Joga. What had he said or done to make Minister Cecine believe him amenable to such an arrangement?

  Peserin, had word of his reaction to Zannen spread farther than he’d realized?

  “I can see that I’ve caught you unawares.”

  “That’s…” Possibly the greatest understatement of all time. He swallowed with difficulty. “Yes, sir. Quite.”

  “I intend no insult, Ensign. I’m well aware that sexual interaction between males is unnatural, but the situation in which our race finds itself—”

  “Is even more unnatural,” Hastion dared to interrupt. “I understand that, sir, and I have no objection to males seeking release among themselves. I simply…” He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. “What if Shelley never accepts mates?”

  The minister observed him for a long moment before saying, “I’ll stipulate now that your obligation to accommodate me in the mating bed will end within a year. If Ms. Bonham hasn’t accepted her place by that time, I’ll seek a third to serve me in that capacity.”

  Though something in him tightened in dismay at the idea, Hastion nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “You need not respond immediately. In fact, you would be wise to take a few days before making your final decision.”

  Hastion tried not to sag with relief. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  “However, before you waste a great deal of your time and mine contemplating the matter, I believe you should experience the reality of bottoming for me. The point would be moot if you found the task intolerable.”

  Every time the minister opened his mouth, Hastion felt as though he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning and had to scramble to organize his thoughts.

  Licking his desert-dry lips, he croaked, “When?”

  “You’re here.” Cecine raised an auburn brow. “Unless you have other plans for the evening…?”

  Oh Peserin, now? The minister wanted to fuck him now?

  His heart slamming madly against his breastbone, he asked, “Sir, may I have a few moments alone to—” calm the fuck down? “—reflect?”

  The minister tensed visibly, and for a moment, Hastion feared he would deny the request. But then he pushed back his chair and stood.

  Hastion almost wished he hadn’t. The long shaft of Cecine’s cock, easily discerned under the thin white mabi pants, grew even longer, pushing out away from his lean thighs, and for the first time in years, Hastion wished desperately for Lonia. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face against her breast the way he had as a youngling, to let her hold him until the storm of uncertainty had passed and he found courage enough to surrender to the unknown.

  “Very well, Ensign. My stewards have been instructed not to intrude on you. I’ll be in my quarters. If you don’t appear—”

  “I will,” Hastion said almost sharply. “Sir.”

  Rather than chastising him for his tone, the minister inclined his head then turned and walked through the door connecting his dining room to his living quarters.

  Once the door closed, Hastion shoved his plate aside and propped his elbows on the table, resting his head in his shaking hands as he sucked in deep breaths.

  Peserin, why was he reacting to the minister like a virginal female? Bottoming for another male was what he’d dreamed of ever since he discovered gay pornography on the Terran Internet more than a year ago. And since their discovery of anal orgasm weeks earlier, he’d known being fucked wasn’t just a possibility—it was inevitable. Even with the Terran women they recruited, there weren’t nearly enough females to accommodate the legions of deprived Garathani males. Sooner or later, the unmated dominants would get desperate enough to start fucking subordinate males, and blatant exhibitionist that he’d fashioned himself, he was likely to be among the first fucked.

  In fact, he’d depended on it.

  But he’d never imagined the greatest male ever to spring from Peserin’s hallowed loins would be the one fucking him. For some idiotic reason he’d all but deified Minister Cecine in his mind, assuming him beyond the needs of mere mortal flesh. He couldn’t have been more shocked if one of the blessed Powers themselves had descended from the heavens and ordered him to bend over.

  Hastion let his head drop to the table with a groan. His naiveté was beyond mortifying. Of course the minister had carnal needs—he was only sixty years old and wouldn’t reach middle age until he was eighty or more. With his power and vitality, it wasn’t impossible that he’d live to see two hundred. Hastion should have assumed he’d engaged an entire harem of Terran females to satisfy his needs and spent all his free time making up for the long years of deprivation.

  But using another male…? No. He would never have seen that coming, not when the minister was allowed his choice of Garathani females. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have expected to be the male chosen.

  What he’d expected was to be forcibly claimed by a lesser warrior. That would no doubt be the way of things for a while—the rape of males wasn’t yet addressed in their laws and probably wouldn’t be until a huge number of them had already been claimed for use by others. The prospect hadn’t discouraged Hastion. He was strong enough, fast enough and intelligent enough to evade any male he didn’t wish to submit to.

  So why was he sitting here chewing his nails when the opportunity of a lifetime awaited him in the next room? The stuff of legends or not, Minister Cecine required sexual service, and if Hastion didn’t provide it, some other male would. He wasn’t about to let that happen.

  Even better, the minister had claimed Shelley. That made any potential arguments against bottoming for him irrelevant. Hastion wanted to be fucked by a worthy male and he wanted Shelley. What more was there to consider?

  He jumped up. It was time to set aside his awe and seize the moment.

  Self-doubt immediately glued his feet to the biologic pad. The minister had only chosen him because he’d been the first warrior foolhardy enough to offer himself for consideration as second. Would he have asked the same concessions of any other warrior? More important, would any other have accepted? After all, providing such a service in exchange for the bene
fits of second position could technically be considered whoring.

  Irrelevant, he reminded himself firmly as he started for the door. No way was he letting this opportunity pass him by. There were much worse things to whore oneself for than a pretty mate and two babes.

  Besides, whoring had suddenly become not only acceptable but necessary on Garathan, and the council had already paid enormous sums to import Terran females for such services.

  He stopped again just short of the door. Powers, he hadn’t bathed, or cleaned his mouth, or voided his bowels since this morning. What if his body offended the minister’s senses?

  Or what if he lost all self-control in the heat of the moment and disgraced himself by sobbing or screaming?

  What if the minister found the whole encounter so repulsive he decided he didn’t need a second that badly?

  Hastion’s skin prickled with humiliation. He’d be fucked in every way possible then.

  Stop! Now, before you drive yourself insane.

  Closing his eyes, he took a calming breath, and then another. The minister knew he’d been on duty since early afternoon, and by now he was surely aware of the potential pitfalls of using the waste canal for something other than its intended purpose. If he wanted Hastion in pristine condition, he would allow him time to get that way.

  And the minister had suggested this experiment because he knew bottoming for another male could very well be unpleasant, if not thoroughly traumatic, and surely wouldn’t hold any uncontrolled reaction against him.

  Irrelevant, Hastion told himself one last time. He would control himself, the minister would accept him as second, and he would never give the minister any reason to regret offering him second position in his bond with Shelley. No other outcome was acceptable.

  Taking one last deep breath, he squared his shoulders and marched into the minister’s living quarters.

  Chapter Three

  It was rather anticlimactic to find the suite’s large sitting area empty. Hastion looked around curiously for a moment and then followed the sound of music down a long corridor to the only open door.