Clan and Conviction (Clan Beginnings) (9 page)

And now here they were, together again. 

Wynhod had attracted many Dramoks in the past.  He’d made his mark as a superior enforcer early on in his career, before he had even met Gelan.  His strength, confidence, and ambition were appealing to would-be clan leaders; a boon considering Nobeks outnumbered all the other breeds and weren’t guaranteed to clan.  There had been some good matches for him too, at least on the surface.  Yet somehow, Wynhod could never see himself joined permanently to any of the Dramoks who had courted him.  He hadn’t been stroking Gelan’s ego when he’d told him no other Dramok had compared following their affair.  He’d never experienced the immediate camaraderie he’d found with Gelan. 

That same instant attraction fucked with his head, body, and even heart right now.  Gelan’s mere presence had always felt perfect to him before, and he felt perfect now.  There remained only one last piece of the puzzle to fit, the one that had his cocks filling with need.  Wynhod had to have Gelan, to know if everything still worked between them the way it had before.

Just like the old days, Gelan’s mind ran along the same lines.  Even as Wynhod sprang for him, the Dramok came at him too.  Their bodies crashed against each other with a heavy thud.  The next instant they were grappling, each trying to gain control of the other man’s body.  The air came alive with grunts, growls, and the sound of tearing fabric.

Feeling that magnificent body straining against his brought vicious lust to the fore.  Wynhod’s cocks swelled in excitement, demanding he defeat Gelan, bring him down, hold him still, and mount him.  He knocked his opponent back, sending Gelan to fall hard on a table top that groaned under the impact but did not break.  Wynhod jumped on him, eager to make the other man submit.  But Gelan was ready for him, bringing up a knee to slam into the Nobek’s gut and drive all the wind out of him.  Wynhod caught himself at the last second, lessening the impact but feeling enough of it to grunt painfully.  Gelan slammed a fist into Wynhod’s jaw and rolled out from under him.

Wynhod got back on his feet in less time than it took to bat an eye, only barely noting the ache from Gelan’s blow.  Gelan was also up, and they circled one another, watching for an opening.  Wynhod noted how fast Gelan breathed, his respiration much quicker than it should be so early in the fight.  Someone wasn’t keeping up with his endurance training like he should be, he thought.  Gelan was definitely going down fast, not that the Dramok would probably mind so much.  Wynhod’s opponent’s fangs were down, his crotch livid with erection. 

Oh yeah.  Just like the old days.

Wynhod feinted to the left, and Gelan fell for it, exposing his right flank for only a moment.  He realized his mistake almost immediately, but it was too late.  Wynhod capitalized on it and bore the other man down to the rug-strewn floor.

They rolled around, punching and kicking, their fangs snapping close enough to furrow skin but neither getting hold to send the intoxicating venom into each other.  At last, Wynhod was able to use his greater weight to advantage, twisting his body so he was on top of and slightly behind Gelan.  He wrapped his arm around his partner’s neck and squeezed, slowly choking the Dramok out.

Gelan wheezed desperately, his eyes wide as they met Wynhod’s triumphant gaze.  The Nobek chuckled between gasping to catch his breath, rubbing his throbbing crotch against Gelan’s ass.  “I look forward to my reward, Dramok,” he whispered in Gelan’s ear.

Gelan’s eyes were rolling a little now, his struggles already fading.  He had definitely neglected his training.  Wynhod hooked a leg to still its kicking, his calf finding that though the Dramok was going out, his cocks were raging hard. 

Wynhod had forgotten that little oddity about his former lover.  Most Dramoks hated to be dominated.  Of all the breeds, theirs was the most alpha.  Some found no pleasure at all in surrendering, at least not without the intoxicating bite.  Gelan, however, had always been agreeable to being topped, as long as it was by someone who had earned the right in a fight.  He was much like a Nobek in that respect.

Wynhod grinned, his head full of evil intentions.  He loosened his hold, certain of victory.  Now that he could look forward to the tight warmth of the other man’s ass—

He never got to finish his thought.  Gelan, who had nearly fallen limp in his grip, suddenly turned his head sharply to one side, so that his face pressed against Wynhod’s bicep.  An instant later, Wynhod felt the twin stings of Gelan’s fangs stabbing into his flesh.

“Son of a bitch!” the Nobek cursed, tightening his hold again in the hope of knocking the Dramok out before the venom could take effect.  Gelan did nothing to try and loosen Wynhod’s choke; in fact, he clutched the arm tight as if to make sure Wynhod couldn’t get away.  His grip was stronger than it should have been given that Gelan had appeared to be on the brink of passing out only a moment before. 

Wynhod suddenly realized Gelan had only been pretending to lose consciousness.  He’d been playing Wynhod, giving him a false sense of victory.

The first curls of pleasure wafted into the Nobek’s brain.  He snarled against the hypnotic entrancement, tightening his grip on Gelan harder still.  Yet his opponent hung on stubbornly, the intoxicant pumping into Wynhod’s body, being fed to his senses through the fast work of his hammering heart.

Wynhod knew he was in trouble.  He released Gelan and tried to shove him away.  The Dramok fought back, working to pin him in place, still with his fangs embedded in Wynhod’s arm.

Wynhod punched the side of Gelan’s head.  At last the bite withdrew.  Wynhod started to lurch to his feet, but Gelan knocked him onto his back.  The Dramok’s arms wrapped tight around him, pinning Wynhod’s arms to his sides.  Lightning fast, Gelan’s head darted down, and his fangs found the side of the Nobek’s neck.

Wynhod screamed his rage to be bitten again.  He was already falling into that pleasurable haze that would end with an insurmountable need to please his conqueror.  He kicked hard, lashing out to hurt.  Failing that, he tried to get his legs under him so he could escape.  Gelan simply moved with him, taking the blows and hanging tight to keep Wynhod in his grasp.

And all the time, venom flowed into Wynhod’s veins, making it more and more difficult to struggle until the Nobek couldn’t quite remember why he should want to get away.  The body on his turned from that of an opponent to something warm and strong and comforting.  The Nobek’s desperate grappling faded and turned to rubbing against that strong frame as much as Gelan’s grip on him would allow.  Pleasure swirled low in his loins, making his twin cocks throb with insistent need.  He ached for the man now pulling free of his throat to lick the pinprick bites.  The raspy feel of Gelan’s tongue against his skin made Wynhod’s eyes roll back with bliss.

“Ah,” he breathed, arching against the Dramok.

Gelan chuckled and leaned back to gaze into Wynhod’s face.  “Thought you had me, didn’t you?” he asked.

The Nobek looked into that nobly handsome face with its smiling mouth.  He’d give anything to kiss those lips, curved in anticipatory pleasure.  “I thought you went down kind of fast.  I wondered if you had neglected endurance exercises.”  Wynhod found a frown despite the persistent arousal and euphoria muddying his senses.  “You still should not have been so ready to fight when I let you go.”

“I hyperventilated on purpose.  It flooded my blood with extra oxygen, allowing me to withstand your choke better.”

Wynhod remembered the rapid breathing Gelan had been doing, and how it had fooled him into thinking maybe the Dramok would fall easily.  He blinked in slow realization.  “But that would mean you planned for me to choke you all along—”

Wynhod’s mouth dropped open.  He had been played from the start of the fight, and played well. 

“You manipulative bastard,” he said with appreciation.  He grinned, impressed with Gelan’s ruse.

Gelan grinned back.  “I’m so glad you approve.”  He looked Wynhod up and down, and the spicy scent of Kalquorian male arousal suddenly became very strong.  “Now, Nobek, let’s see if you feel as good as I remember.”

He leaned down, his dark eyes on Wynhod’s face as his mouth neared.  The Nobek’s mouth opened to receive the victor’s kiss as he tilted his head for it.  Gelan’s lips sealed over his, and his tongue reached deep to stroke Wynhod’s.  The enforcer moaned as Gelan plundered his mouth.  The flavor was a complicated blend of the evening’s meal, alcohol, and triumphant male.  Wynhod gave himself over to the delicious kiss, perfectly at ease with surrendering to the man who had fairly beaten him with both power and strategy.

Gelan broke the kiss, his lids halfway hooding his eyes with pleasure.  He rose up so he sat on top Wynhod’s hips.  His ass rubbed up against Wynhod’s swollen cocks as he moved, making the Nobek writhe beneath him.  By the ancestors, he wanted to be inside there.  However, he’d lost the fight, so he would have to bide his time before that would happen.

Soon, he promised himself.  Maybe even later tonight.

Gelan chuckled as if discerning where Wynhod’s mind was.  He wriggled his ass a little, making Wynhod choke with a surge of lust.  “Want me?”

“You hateful shit.”  Wynhod lunged upward.

“Back down,” Gelan snarled.  “And lay still.”

Just like that, Wynhod slammed himself to the floor.  The intoxicating venom that Gelan had sent into his bloodstream rendered Kalquorians unable to resist orders.  In fact, it made them eager to please their conquerors.  Wynhod was no exception.  The instant Gelan commanded him, every thought of resistance flew from his brain.

Wynhod lay beneath the Dramok, his cocks aching and miserable with need.  He couldn’t move as Gelan opened the seam of his torn formsuit at the collar, parting it to expose Wynhod’s chest and abdomen.

Gelan made a noise that sounded halfway between a sob and a groan.  “Damn it, Wynhod.  Look at you.”

His big, warm hands slid all over the Nobek’s skin, tracing the curved expanse of his chest and the hilly terrain of his abdomen.  Wynhod gasped to feel that calloused touch drinking him in.  He could only twitch in reaction however; Gelan’s order to lie still burned in his skull, holding him immobile.

The Dramok leaned down, his wet lips parted.  This time they found Wynhod’s collarbone where it met his shoulder.  Gelan kissed and licked his way to the hollow of the Nobek’s throat, his lips a soft counterpoint to the coarser surface of his tongue.  Wynhod’s breaths shuddered as Gelan continued his eager path to the other shoulder.  Then he reversed course, moving back to the well of the Nobek’s throat once more.

From there, Gelan moved down.  When his mouth closed on Wynhod’s nipple, a bolt of superheated lightning shot straight down to the Nobek’s engorged pricks.   He shouted.

“Still very sensitive, I see,” Gelan chuckled.  “As if I would forget.”

Wynhod could only groan.  He was in trouble now, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.  Until the venom wore off or Gelan countermanded his order to remain motionless, the Nobek was forced to endure the coming torture.

Gelan’s purple eyes were almost hidden behind the bottomless black of their pupils.  He watched Wynhod’s face as his tongue slowly emerged from between his lips.  The tip of it closed in on the pebble of Wynhod’s nipple.  Warm breath wafted over the vulnerable disk of dark brown as Gelan’s tongue ventured ever closer … almost there.

Contact.  A slow lick that transmitted straight to the Nobek’s dicks, feeling like something deep inside had delivered a gentle kick to his groin.  Wynhod cried out.

Gelan’s mouth covered his nipple.  He rubbed the softly abrasive surface of his tongue all over the eager flesh, sucking at the same time.  Heat roiled low in Wynhod’s groin as he fought to escape the hold the other man had on him.  The ecstasy was driving him insane.  He needed to throw Gelan to the floor, he needed to rip the bottom of his formsuit off, he needed to bury his throbbing primary dick in the other man’s ass.

Lay still
.  He couldn’t break free of those two little words.

“Gelan!” he bellowed in desperation.

Laughter met the cry.  “Oh, I do love hearing you scream my name.”

Wynhod snarled at the grinning face.  “I do not
scream
.  I yell.”

Gelan snickered.  “Sure you do.  Whatever soothes your mighty Nobek heart, my friend.”

Wynhod started to growl, pouring as much ferocity as he could in the sound.  He choked on his attempt at aggression when Gelan seized his other nipple in his mouth.

The bastard continued to laugh at him as he licked and nipped the taut bit of flesh.  Wynhod tried to halt his strangled cries and couldn’t.  It felt too damned good.  He would kill Gelan as soon as he got free again.  But first he would fuck the Dramok until
he
screamed.

For now, however, Wynhod was trapped.  To make things worse, Gelan headed down his body, that wicked mouth leaving a hot, wet trail as he licked lower and lower.  He treated the Nobek to little darts of pain by biting, pinching, and scratching, leaving livid red welts along the way.   Wynhod gasped under the twin delights of pain mixing with pleasure.  Damn, Gelan hadn’t forgotten a thing when it came to handling him.  If anything, his former lover had become more accomplished in the years since their last meeting.

Like most Nobeks, Wynhod liked pain.  He liked dealing it out and having it dealt to him.  It made him feel acutely alive.  Mixing it with sex was a heady aphrodisiac.  Gelan’s rough treatment had his cocks throbbing.  Hell, they were more than throbbing; they jerked with each and every sting.  No, Gelan hadn’t forgotten one damned thing.

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