Testing and Trying
The room was a strange combination of total darkness and harsh yellow industrial lighting that flashed, sputtered and illuminated only small circles throughout the room. The loud dance-mix music made it necessary for everyone to shout to be heard even in the most intimate of conversations. Harry Wagner stood at the bar and tried his best to ignore his surroundings, but even for him it wasn't easy.
"Is it really you, or am I just hallucinating?" He felt hot breath and the caress of long braided hair on his shoulder as the words were whispered in his ear. It took a great deal of self-control and finely honed acting skills to suppress the emotions that were triggered by this subtle stimulus.
"I'd tell you to get a better pick-up line, but I forgot, you don't pick-up men in bars. Or do you NOW!!." He said, without turning his head or body to acknowledge the man behind him.
The guise didn't work. He had been standing at the bar for almost two hours and had had five or six strong drinks. A lesser man would have been quite intoxicated, but he was just beginning to feel their effect. He was just beginning to feel his effect. The combination created was not something even he could resist. He spun around quickly and grabbed the large man, who had been standing silently behind him with his arms folded, and kissed him passionately on the lips.
"I figured you would end up here tonight. A man like you can only take so much of my .. Dylan's ultra goodness. I was just hoping I wouldn't get so drunk I couldn't perform."
"You don't have to perform tonight, Harry, remember. Tonight is my night to star." Tyr Anasazi had that twinkle in his dark brown eyes. He wanted to be in control.
"Can I at least buy you a drink, and compliment you on your actions with Prince Erik, before we leave. I don't like to be seen as a pathetic loser, who sits here for two hours and leaves with the first man who walks by and acknowledges him." He put just enough lilt in his voice to let Tyr know he was joking.
"Sure, and there is no way anyone in this place would ever mistake you for a pathetic loser. Why in the hell anyone think I would want to take home a loser?"
"Dunno. Stupid Nietzschean I guess."
"That, my friend Harry, is a oxymoron."
The public persona of the two men quickly became one of shared looks, silence and posing. Anyone seeing them in the bar had to surely notice them. Both were much taller, more muscular, and physically handsome than the other men in the bar. Both were dressed in fine black leather, carried side arms, and appeared dangerous. However, closer observation would reveal that both of them would sometimes casually touch each other during conversation snippets and that the eye contact was definitely that of two men with a deep caring interest in each other. Those clues probably went unnoticed in this bar, because of the lighting and the fact that the patrons did not chose to look too closely.
Harry finished his drink and was about to signal the bartender for yet another, but Tyr gulped his down and sat his glass over the empty one.
"I didn't come out tonight to drink. I have had other things on my mind for quite a while, before I was so rudely interrupted by, shall we say affairs of state."
"We can go, I have a room in a hotel not far from here, if you don't mind coming to my place. You'd be surprised at the luxury accommodations you can find in a war-ravished country if you only take time to look."
"Well, I'll pay your bar bill since I am the one playing the alpha tonight, and your place is fine since I doubt if my crewmembers would like it if I took you back to MY room."
"I've heard your crewmembers like to watch. We should try it sometime."
"Not in my lifetime, Harry."
"Well this is a change." Tyr commented as Harry pressed a pad that bathed the room in a black light. The room was full of industrial metal furniture with the exception of the several white, feather-filled duvets stacked on the stainless steel bed. "Interesting interspersion of design elements."
"The feather beds are mine. They had a hard mattress with Mylar sheets. Have you ever fucked on Mylar sheets?"
"Can't say that I have. Nietzscheans are big on natural fibers."
"Like so many products of the modern age, it looks good, but doesn't function at all. And they're so fucking slippery . . .you could slip off the bed and kill yourself."
Tyr had enough discussion of bed linens, natural or synthetic. He was much more interested in who was going to be on the bed, under him, with an already responding cock buried in him. Harry had already removed his clothes, which made it difficult for him to appear indifferent, as he mixed them both drinks. "I think you have a lot to drink, Harry. Do I detect a small lack of faith in the ointment you secured from Madam Lisa?"
"No, just thirsty. A god would never reveal his lack of faith. I have full faith in her alchemistry, she is a fine craftsman and a very intelligent lady."
"You tested it didn't you? I can't believe you actually tested it." Tyr glared at his partner. His mind would not allow him to formulate the scenario as to how Ares would have tested the lubricant; it could be painful to others as well as to his own ego. "You didn't have sex with some other Nietzschean, only a member of the Drago Kazov pride would be stupid enough to have sex with you, and I can't believe you let a dragon be the first to fuck you."
"Relax, Tyr. Relax. All I did was comment on Lisa's skills. But yes, we did test it, but certainly not on me.
"She knew this kluge. A little whore, strung out on flash, probably better off dead and definitely needing money. I brokered a deal that would keep her in drugs, or pay for her rehab, for the next six months in exchange for letting this skinny little Mandau pride member have sex with her. She was so strung out, or so dumb, that she didn't even know about your people's sperm problem. He was so horny; he didn't care if he might kill her. He didn't. Both of them actually seemed to enjoy it."
"Of course she enjoyed it, evenly the lowliest of Nietzscheans…. You didn't give them any of the lubricant, did you?"
"Didn't even know I was involved. Lisa handled the entire transaction. She's quite a businesswoman."
"Bet you watched though?" Harry nodded his head.
"Roll over for Christ's sake. You look like some Nietzschean brood wife waiting to be impregnated with her sixteenth kid." Harry had flopped face down on the soft bed and was delighting in the feel of his cock being encased in the soft cotton and feathers. It brought back delightful memories of his youth, and he was more than a little drunk. He even liked it when Tyr slapped him hard on the ass to get him to roll over. Tyr sat on the edge of the bed with his head resting in his hands and quietly ran over Ares body with his eyes.
"Damn." Tyr muttered.
"What? What did I do?" Ares assumed that Tyr had just vocalized his thoughts.
"Nothing. I was just thinking. I've let you take the Alpha role for so long when it is my turn it seems . . .
"Well from what I can see, it's only your mind that is confused. Your body seems to know perfectly well what it wants. Lie back and let the God of War do his thing for a while." He reached over and rubbed some oil on his hands.
"Olive oil, Harry, after all you went through with Lisa?"
"I said it worked, I didn't say it tasted good. I'll rely on the real thing for this part of the adventure, thank you." His goblet of Benediction sat next to a matching antique condiment set which now contained olive oil and the secret lubricant.
For now he seemed content to rub his oil slicked hands up and down on the shaft of Tyr's erect cock. Tyr's actions tonight had reinforced the theory that sex for Tyr, at least sex with him, was primarily about power. He knew Tyr was taking his control by insisting that he, Ares, be the first to initiate sexual contact.
The only other person he had ever known to use sex like that was Xena. She was the only woman he had met that could take a man's, or even a god's, power his with her cunt the same way Tyr could take power while being fucked. He had always wanted Xena to dominate him totally. .to fuck him with one of those Amazon carved dildos the same way he could not wait for Tyr to fuck him tonight, but she never had. He felt his alpha ichor pour out of his body, and hopefully into Tyr.
'I couldn't do this with Xena." he thought as he took Tyr's huge cock into his mouth. He couldn't get it all in his mouth the way Tyr could with his. It was difficult to admit that Tyr was longer and thicker, and that Tyr could do such amazing things. Even lying flat on his back, arms folded above his head, he could fuck Ares's alpha face using his engineered and overdeveloped groin muscles.
Lying in the V of his partner's legs made it difficult for him to watch Tyr's face. He knew the fucker had his eyes closed. He wondered if he was still worried about safe words. He ran a hand over Tyr's muscular thighs; he could snap a man's neck with those thighs, yet somehow he felt comfortable here.
It seemed as it was taking Tyr an inordinately long time to cum. Ares god-of war, who had once waited a millennium for a former lover to appear, giving up only when the palace in which he was waiting fell into ruin, was losing patience with his lover. 'Another lover, another story,' he thought to himself. But wondered why Tyr had not yet cum.
Tyr flexed his groin muscles and drove his cock another inch further into Ares's mouth. The man was slow, patient, and a little drunk, but he was still tense. Tyr wondered how much of the hardness of his cock came from the stored tension of the last month and how much from true desire. Now that he could finally relax, stop the game that he had played with Erik and Dylan, he found the relaxation alien and uncomfortable. He tried to concentrate on the soft warm mouth that had engulfed his cock and to welcome its safe enclave. Strange thoughts considering the mouth belonged to the god of war.
Even in an atheistic culture such as the Nietzscheans, gods of war had been held in high esteem. He should know; he was named after one, albeit a slightly flawed one from a culture where the god of Thunder was held in greater regard. The Greek god of war, Ares, was the top of the food chain when it came to war gods. He had held power longer, been adopted and renamed by the Romans after the fall of the Greek gods, and gave incredible blowjobs.
He was surprised when Ares removed his mouth-hold from his penis and scooted his body up toward the head of the bed.
"I was thinking we might try sixty-nine. Or are you so numerically impaired in these digital times that you don't get it. Caesar didn't get it either." Tyr tried to read the look on Ares face. "That was supposed to be a joke. I swear you are hanging around with Dylan too much. Numbers, Arabic numbers."
"I think you are drunk."
"I cannot believe what sheltered lives Nietzscheans must lead, Tyr. To put it in the simple understandable terms of your crewmembers 'I DO YOU while you DO ME.'"
"How. . .do you know what phrases my . . . Damn you watch too don't you, Harry."
"A little. When I'm not busy with other things. Quite frankly, except when that Evan Hopewell is around things, on your ship are not that interesting."
"Well don't . . not anymore. I value my privacy, and I don't do anything you would care about anyway. But yes, you can't have spent as much time hanging around my crewmembers and not know what sixty-nine. . .
"But I bet you never have done it, right?"
Tyr bit his lip and tried to look neutral. He knew Ares knew he was right.
'Now this is more like it.' A picture of an antique perpetual motion machine flashed into Tyr's mind. He sucked on Ares's cock with a vigor that grew the more his partner sucked on his. Energy had to have been created, energy that was being bottled up and mixed with the . . . 'Not any more.' They had both cum at the same time, but continued to suck, clean with their tongues, and grow hard again.
"I think, Tyr, it's time for the main event." Ares said matter-of-factly.
Tyr had been thinking about this for a long time. Ares always fucked him from the rear, with his face buried in the pillow, or slung over the back of the leather chair in the old apartment. Ares had taken a gulp of the Benedictine from the goblet on the table and then rolled into that position semi-buried in the featherbeds. Tyr scooped a handful of the lubricant from the matching jar and rubbed it on his fingers. A second handful went into the crack of Ares ass.
"Careful, that stuff is expensive. You don't have to use the whole jar for one fuck."
"I had assumed you have purchased it by the giga-gram or giga-litre or however Lisa sells such stuff."
"Not quite. There is only a finite amount of Benedictine available at any one time; we wouldn't want to fuck faster than the brothers could produce it. Now that is a wonderful picture isn't it, Tyr? What do you think the monks would think if they knew their wonderful poison herbs were being used to allow us to FUCK?"
"You're not going to get fucked, if you don't shut up."
"Roll over." He slapped him hard again, and wondered if was misbehaving on purpose.
"I think you've been watching Dylan too long. I don't think our bodies are built to do it in the missionary position."
"I want to watch your fucking face. So hand me that pillow, I'll slip it under your gorgeous ass, and you can put your legs on my shoulder. I used to use this position with little women who didn't like to have my weight on their bodies, but found the big women liked it, too. " He waited for Ares to ask if he had had sex with many big women, and felt extremely grateful for the unexpected silence.
Nietzscheans fucked anyone who wanted and deserved their DNA; physical beauty was not a primary consideration.
He was surprised when his cock slipped in easily. He had expected an unconscious Alpha reaction from Ares. He could not imagine that he had ever allowed many men to fuck him. He was able to combine a slight rocking motion with the short strokes of his fucking. He had used the same motions with nervous virgins and discovered they found it comforting. He watched Ares face as it grew more relaxed and more receptive. He wasn't going to let the bastard get off that easily. When just as it appeared that Ares was fully relaxed and might even be thinking about closing his eyes, he thrust completely into his partner with a quick stroke. He could feel Ares balls caught up against his lower groin. It could not be comfortable, yet he held the stroke until he saw pain move to Ares's face and then pulled out very slowly. Again, a little longer, a lot harder, and then even more slowly.
"What in the fuck are you doing to me?" Ares called out.
"Making sure that you remember your first . . Nietzschean fuck. Wow, you do have some control over what I am doing to you don't you."
"I don't take my god-skills lightly, my friend, and I have had a little practice."
"You mean I'm not your first."
"First, as you said, Nietzschean, but you don't tell people like Julius Caesar or Robert E. Lee that you are just going to fuck them and send them off to battle. Even a god of war has to bottom now and again. But let me assure you, everyone who has been in my ass before you have some member of your pride named after them. It is a select group, Tyr Anasazi."
It was a comforting thought and reassuring to his manhood, which still had second thoughts about the sex acts that contradicted the Alpha function of his species. He would have felt even better if he had not known Ares was lying.
They probably would have fucked all night, except for his prearranged breakfast that was delivered at 5:00 AM by some strange little hermaphroditic green species with full breasts and a foot long dick. He was delighted that Tyr found the creature as disgusting as he did and sent him on his way with expedience. He and Tyr savored the early morning delight of five dozen raw oysters, runny scrambled eggs and Brie, and the two-litre jug of blood orange juice. Tyr had never had the bright red liquid and delighted in letting it dribble out of his mouth and onto the once white bedding. Bad table manners seemed to be a turn-on for members of the Kodiak pride.
Now, as he watched the Nietzschean sleep peacefully, he wondered how long he could go on not telling him everything, lying to him about things which may or may not matter, and feeling stupid that he could not discern whether or not they would. He knew there were some things that the Nietzschean could accept but once he started the story, he would have to tell it all. There were other parts, which he still wished to keeps secret.
When he began to stir, Ares leaned over and awakened him with a kiss.
"Can you stay another day, or do you have to go?"
"Not sure, may have to call Dylan. He seems to be enjoying his activities with King Erik, so maybe if I assured him I had things that would keep me occupied, he would consent to staying another day. Never know with Dylan."
"I know, that attack really took me by surprise. Did you know?"
"Hell no, we were too busy playing mind games with each other. I do have to admit that I would have stopped them before they killed him if the my counter-plan had been implemented."
"So you've grown attached. . . "
"No, honestly, I think we had grown attached but I didn't realize it. I find it difficult to spend time with him alone now because I feel he knows something about us. . .
"Half your crew knows we are fucking. . . It's not like we hide it or anything."
"No, a lot more than that. He knew your real name and identity the first time we met in that war museum. I know he knows more but feel that he is waiting for you to tell me. What I can't discern is why he feels that is necessary. I get the feeling that he thinks it is going to change something, or hurt someone, maybe me."
"You know I wouldn't hurt you, Tyr. You can only hurt yourself."
"That is what exactly I feel, and worry about. So why don't you fuck me, while I figure out what I am going to tell Dylan."
"I do so not want you thinking about Dylan while I fuck you." Ares said slowly as he rubbed the olive oil on his hard cock and roughly pushed it into Tyr. "Understand?" A hard stroke and he felt a shiver rise up the Nietzschean's spine. "Understand?"
Ares continued to utter the scolding words as he fucked his partner, and wished they could be as successful on him driving thoughts of Dylan from of his mind, as they appeared to be with Tyr.