Chapter 7 #2
Reaching out to the control panel, Rone activated the auto pilot. “Come here.” Rone gestured to the spot between his suddenly spread legs.
With a sinking heart, Frey got up and slid to his knees.
Well, maybe he’d lucked out, and his master would only require a blow job as penance for his intemperate tongue.
The Travian surprised him, though. When Frey reached up for Rone’s fly, Rone stayed his movement.
Instead, Rone ran his hand down the side of Frey’s head, gathering the braid there and laying it within his palm.
The ribbons continued to be woven through the strands.
It had become a daily ritual where Rone re-braided Frey’s hair.
Although he still resented being dolled up, he couldn’t deny that he found the activity soothing.
There was something kind of sweet about the big, bad Travian weaving ribbon into hair.
“I know you’re not an object.” The unexpected confession startled Frey. “If I thought otherwise, I wouldn’t let you pilot this ship. You have value. I recognize that the same way I do with Preen.”
Frey looked up at him. He wanted to point out that the big difference was that Rone didn’t fuck Preen.
He wisely resisted the impulse. A daring other thought entered his mind, however.
“I can learn more.” He hesitated and licked his lips in nervousness.
“If I help you with your work, might I buy my freedom from you?”
Rone stared down at him. His hand stilled its movement with the hair. “I didn’t want to involve you with this, yet I had no choice. The moment Arpell put you into the betting, he tied your fate to mine. For now, there is no way out for anyone.”
Disappointment flooded Frey. It had been stupid to think he could make a deal with someone who loved fucking his pet so much.
Although, Rone had said ‘for now’, which implied that the idea wasn’t entirely out of the question.
Not wanting to kill that spark of hope, he didn’t pursue the matter.
He chose to assume that he had heard of a possibility within Rone’s words.
Sighing inwardly, he stayed kneeling while his master unwound his hair and began the braiding process again.
True to his word, Rone allowed Frey to dock the shuttle back on the station.
The success of it pumped Frey’s ego and brightened his spirits.
He couldn’t wait to get back to their quarters, either, given that Rone had eventually bent him over the bridge chair and fucked him during the boring trip.
Frey hadn’t minded, and not just because he had been getting pilot lessons at the same time.
Rone had awoken Frey’s sexuality. The circumstances might be terrible, yet he still liked that his body could respond to the right stimulation.
Orgasms had a nice mellowing effect, as well.
No wonder his Travian master had an almost insatiable sexual appetite.
One could get used to a constant diet of fucking.
It just happened to make one need a shower.
Before doing anything else, Rone always had to report to Kuren.
Hooking the leashes onto Frey and Preen, Rone headed down to the now-familiar location of the smuggling arms-dealer’s lair.
The guards were used to Rone and his exotic pets, so they gave him a cursory search after he had handed over what were supposed to be all of his weapons.
Frey, however, had noticed that once the guards had gotten a little lax, Rone had begun to carry one last concealed weapon, a short knife, deep within his boot.
Frey figured that was a good thing. Kuren scared the crap out of him and, for sure, he didn’t trust him.
It gave him comfort to know Rone didn’t, either.
In a place filled with dangerous creatures, Rone was Frey’s alien, and he’d take being the possession of that male over any other.
Kuren greeted his mule with the usual gruffness, gesturing for Rone to sit.
Frey knelt to one side of the chair, while Preen squatted to the other.
The familiar routine came easily to them now.
Part of that routine involved Rone placing his hand on Frey’s head and petting him.
Yes, like a human would a dog, and, yes, Frey considered it demeaning, especially in front of someone else.
Still, it didn’t hurt. Quite the contrary, and Frey had come to realize that Rone needed the contact.
The Travian wasn’t nearly as sanguine about meeting with his boss as his outward appearance would indicate.
“Another successful run, Rone.”
“Yes, well, they aren’t very difficult to complete.”
“You’re too modest. I’ve had other runners lose their composure under the scrutiny of the inspectors, thereby losing my shipment, as well.”
Rone made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. “Th caste males acting as if they have more power than they do. Easily dealt with.”
Better understanding the Travian caste system now, Frey expected Kuren to show affront to Rone’s words. Instead, the male bared his teeth in that Travian version of a smile that frankly tended to chill Frey’s blood.
“I can imagine that would be true for someone like you.” Sitting up straighter, Kuren gave Rone a hard look.
“Normally I would keep you to this lower level of delivery for a long while more. In your case, however, I recognize the—shall we say—quality of your work and the value of having you within my organization. I assume you have no objection to upping your responsibilities to me.”
Rone stilled his petting hand and gripped Frey’s hair. “None whatsoever, sire.”
Kuren sat back. “Good. Go to your quarters, relax for a while. I’ll contact you with your new assignment when I’m ready.
In the meantime, keep your head down. I don’t like my males attracting attention.
” Kuren’s gaze flicked down to Frey. “Keep that thing out of sight. Too many males covet it, and I don’t need my new best runner to end up killed in a fight over possession of a pet. ”
Rone got slowly to his feet, dragging Frey up at the same time by that hold on his hair. “As you say, sire.”
Rone didn’t let go of Frey, pulling him along tightly to his side, until they reached the guards.
Once he’d rearmed, Rone reached for Frey’s head once more, but this time, he merely petted him a few times before leading him and Preen away by their leashes.
Frey figured his master had meant the touch as a form of apology for the cavalier treatment.
More and more, Frey noticed the difference between how Rone treated him in front of others and when they were alone with no one to observe besides Preen.
It was as if the guy was putting on an act, pretending to be a badder-assed Travian than he really was.
Then there was that weird statement back on the shuttle that kind of made it sound like Rone, himself, was in a position he didn’t want to be in and couldn’t control.
There were times like this that Frey’s world seemed to go farther down the rabbit hole.
Already living in a strange and frightening place, Frey felt as if he were being led down even more mystifying paths with invisible ends.
The game Rone played with Kuren had just changed, that much was clear.
What it would ultimately mean was another story, although Frey was sure of one thing.
The next step he took with his master would be a more dangerous one.
As soon as they entered their quarters, Rone removed the leashes and slapped Frey on his ass. “Go take a shower, pet.”
Because he badly wanted one, Frey hurried to comply, except something made him look over his shoulder on his way. His steps faltered.
Preen was gesturing to Rone. “This is it.”
“One can hope so. Send the signal, then prepare to wait. Kuren does nothing in a hurry.”
Preen scampered off to his room, and Rone glanced over at Frey. “Why so slow, pet? Do you want company?”
Because his choice was to admit that he’d stopped to eavesdrop on their conversation or go along with Rone’s obviously facetious question, Frey went with the lie. “Yes, master.”
Not waiting for a response, he continued into the bathing area, stripped, then walked into the shower unit.
He wasn’t surprised when Rone joined him, nor when he found himself leaning against the wall impaled by the Travian’s cock.
But that wasn’t all. Rone’s body pressed against his while Rone worked Frey’s own dick with a hot and heavy fist. Every one of Frey’s breaths hitched, the rising pleasure too fast, too intense for him to get more than a bit of air in his lungs with each jerk.
Rone twisted up the rigid shaft, then stroked down to the base.
Each time he reached the top, he flicked his thumb across the sensitive glans.
Frey gasped and shuddered, shaking his head like a dog getting wet.
A yank on his hair forced his head back.
Frey gasped, giving Rone a chance to plunge his tongue down Frey’s throat.
Kissing had become Rone’s new favorite way to play.
He did it every time he fucked Frey, and Frey had to admit that the alien had truly mastered the art.
His tongue twined with Frey’s and left no crevice in Frey’s mouth unexplored.
Given their size differences, it was easy for the larger creature to bend his body in order to fuck Frey’s mouth and ass at the same time, even from behind.
All the while, he pumped Frey’s cock, never missing a beat until he wrung an explosive orgasm out of him.
Frey automatically clenched around the thick rod lodged deep inside him.
They came together. They always did now. But, while Frey wilted, spent by his climax and done for the moment, Rone was just getting started. It didn’t matter. Frey knew that his master would hold him safely upright until he’d finished. And, strange though it was, he felt safe in those alien arms.