Sarge's Angel

Sarge is a hard as nails construction worker—as rough and tough and as well built as they come. All is well in his life. He‟s a softy in the arms of Hayden. He‟s a man deeply in love. One who‟s touched by his angel on every level, which is a far cry from how he acts in front of everyone else. Life is perfect. What could possibly go wrong? Sarge is told the truth about Hayden—his angel is a peacock shifter from the doomed Boonta colony wiped out years ago by the Schism. What‟s more, the Schism know this, too, and they are on the hunt. Will his angel become nothing but a legend like all the other shifters over the eons?

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Sarge‟s Angel Copyright © 2011 Mark Alders ISBN: 978-1-55487-899-4 Cover art by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books Look for us online at: www.eXtasybooks.com

Sarge’s Angel

A Schism Universe story By Mark Alders

Dedication To Thorny

Chapter One AD 3621—Metro Super Ring, orbital construction station

S

arge saw beauty in his mind‟s eye. A beauty he knew waited for him back home. The image had coalesced more and more until his dreamy thoughts were more real to him than what he was doing at the moment, toiling away on a construction site by ramming a magnowelder into place to secure the twist bolts. He swore at the tool for not doing the job quick or efficient enough, but even that couldn‟t keep out the beauty in his mind. His biceps bulged, burning from the work. Sweat beaded on his brow, flowing like the curses from his lips. Construction work in orbit, in an artificial gravity field, in a spacesuit, for hours…and hours, wasn‟t the best way to scratch out a living. But the beauty that waited for him at home was worth it. Sarge sighed deep. That beauty was his Hayden. The breath of his 1

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existence. His angel. His salvation from the drudgery of nine to five on site. But Sarge had almost missed out on a life of happiness with Hayden. Why? Because to get his angel, he had to buy him. His handsome, take your breath away, knees trembling, worship to the end of his days, man was once a slave boy from the Mattock Markets on Ardross Major. Hayden cost him his life savings—final price was well over eleven-thousand outer rim credits—which is why he still had to work on dangerous construction sites. But Hayden was worth every dollar…and more. Sarge cast his mind back while he hammered his magno welder to the next slot on the grating he had to secure before his shift was over. Only fifty more twist bolts to set and he‟d be done. His heart pounded loud in his chest from the work. The image of Hayden gave way to the sight of the Mattock Markets, of the main slave trade arena. As the markets wheeled into existence in his mind, he smiled. He remembered the day like it was yesterday. The hustle and bustle of rich folk and traders vying for the best slaves, the shouting, the smells of exotic foods offered free to bidders, the sheer scale of the place…

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Chapter Two AD 3619 — Main selling arena, Mattock Markets

“R

oll up, folks,” an auctioneer called. The man was short in stature but loud of voice. As all those who sold slave boys had to be, Sarge supposed. “We now have lot 18-051-6000 up for bids.” Sarge was at the main arena, fighting his way through the crowd. He turned down any food offered, drinks, too. He was only interested in getting to his so-called friend before the bastard spent everything he had on slaves. The man was obsessed with collecting them, but more importantly, he owed him money. Sarge‟s eyes narrowed. He spotted his friend, a fat, greasy haired, sweaty individual named Riggs, over by one of the private viewing podiums. Sarge pitied the slave boys who ended up in his possession. He also knew from bidding lingo that the eighteen in the serial number represented the slave‟s age, zero five one was his identification 3

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number and six-thousand was the reserve price. That last number stopped Sarge dead in his tracks. What was that cost again? Six thousand outer rim credits? Sarge cursed out loud. The slave must be a prize indeed. He turned to look at the selling platform, knocking one of the bidders square in the head as he did so. He didn‟t care. He had to see the man who attracted so much for a reserve price alone. Riggs could wait. He looked right into the slave‟s eyes. What confronted his vision was something so beautiful his breath was stolen from him. He had never set his gaze onto a young man so stunning before in his life. The man was a dream. Perfect. His skin was as white as the driven snow, hair blond and glowing, long at the fringe but not too long so that his thick brown eyebrows were covered. Sure, he was slim, but he was well-toned considering he was a slave. Then again, they treated slaves well at the markets. Get a better price that way. He was naked as all slaves always are, but bound by his hands and with a dog tag around his neck that would have his ID numbers on it. Sarge didn‟t get to take in the rest of the man. He was too busy rummaging around in his jacket pocket and pushing away folk who got too close. He knew he had eight thousand credits on hand, two thousand more if he pushed it and drained his bank account. 4

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“What a prize this thing is, hey folks?” The auctioneer came around and slapped the slave on his back. The young man lurched forward but remained expressionless, his stare distant. Sarge felt for him. He could see the hurt in his eyes, the humiliation of being sold to the highest bidder. He also had to have him, if only to save him from such a terrible place, to save him from the Riggses of the world. He‟d heard how slaves were treated, no matter how much they cost. Most were just a flavour of the month. Most were lucky to see their twentyfirst birthday. They were beaten, worked to the bone and fucked over and over again, all for their owner‟s pleasure. They were objects. Nothing more. Nothing less. A man next to him yelled some obscenity about the slave up for sale. Sarge twitched his elbow, slamming it into the man‟s cheek bone. “Sorry, buddy,” he called to the man who cradled his face. “I get a nervous twitch at the markets.” Before the man could answer, the auctioneer shouted, “I shall start off the bidding at sixthousand credits. Not a penny less. It‟s a clean thing and will be a nice addition to any home, that‟s for sure. To prove it hasn‟t got a blemish anywhere, just look under its foreskin, folks. Clean as a whistle.” The auctioneer grabbed the slave‟s cock without care and forcibly retracted his 5

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foreskin to expose his glistening pink head. The slave winced, but again remained quiet. Sarge‟s blood boiled. His cheeks burned. He had to get the slave out of there. How could anyone treat someone so beautiful without so much as a care or thought of compassion? He‟d jump the railings and grab the auctioneer by the cock and yank it until he screamed for mercy if he could. The fucking bastard. Pity there was too much security here. Instead, he elbowed another bidder, again offering a half-hearted apology. Sarge fingered the money in his pocket as the bidding started in earnest. If he got back the credits owed by Riggs he might be able to stretch his budget up to eleven thousand. He hoped with all his heart that the price didn‟t go that high. Then again, with the beauty before him, he wouldn‟t be surprised if it did. The next few moments were spent trying to get into a better position around the arena, right in direct sight of the auctioneer. He was going to get that young man no matter what. Sarge was determined. “Eight-thousand,” a man called out. Prick. When Sarge got into position, and the auctioneer had bent the slave over a stand that was on the selling platform, spreading his legs and then buttocks to expose his arsehole for all to ogle at, offering snide and sexually charged comments to drive up the bidding, the price was well past 6

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nine thousand outer rim credits. “Nine thousand and fifty,” Sarge barked.

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Chapter Three AD 3621 — Metro Super Ring, orbital construction station

“H

ey, Sarge, stop ya day dreamin‟ and get the fuck on with securing that panel. We ain‟t here for the views,” Riggs shouted, knocking Sarge from his reverie. Sarge glared at his so-called friend. Even in his spacesuit he was a fat bastard. He was also a man who gave Sarge the dry screaming shits at the best of times, especially as he still owed him that money. On many occasions he thought about shoving his fist so far down his throat that constipation wouldn‟t ever be a problem for him. But a thousand outer rim credits was a thousand outer rim credits. Sarge needed that sort of money. He was still paying off the trader who sold him Hayden. As a result, and most of the time, he grinned and bore it where Riggs was concerned. “Shut up fuck up, Riggs! I‟m workin‟ ain‟t I?” “You reckon?” Riggs came closer to Sarge, 8

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waddling like a Boonta whore during pay week. “I bet you‟re dreamin‟ about that pretty little man cunt you got stashed away back home, aren‟t you, you dirty dog? Bet‟cha he gives a great service seeing as he cost so much. Then again, maaate, if you can‟t handle him, I‟d be glad to split that hole of his for shits and giggles.” Sarge dropped his magno-welder. “What did you say to me, motherfucker?” Riggs‟ face dropped from childish glee to sheer terror in the blink of an eye when Sarge grabbed him. Their helmet visors touched. “Hey, easy off, Sarge. I was just kiddin‟. I didn‟t mean anything by what I said…honest. You…and him…were meant…” Sarge tightened his grip on the collar of the man‟s spacesuit, right where the helmet joined the material, cutting off the last words. He knew he‟d hurt from that. “Mention my angel in such a way again, and I‟ll rip you a fucking new one. Clear?” Sarge let him go. Riggs nodded slowly. He moved away from Sarge, adjusting his space suit so it was no longer all bunched up at the front. Sweat had beaded on his brow, and not from the toil of work. The man had a fucking cheek to call him slack. He snarled. Riggs never worked a full day in his life. He usually skulked off home early so he could snort some Atlantica Dream, the latest party drug which heightened sexual energy. He would 9

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then try and find his erection in the folds of his fat so his slave boys could suck him off. When done, he would fall asleep in his own filth. Sarge sneered, about to add more choice words, including that he‟d better get his money this month, when the site boss screamed at him through his helmet‟s communicator. What the man was yelling about, he didn‟t care. All he knew was he was to report to the site office. Pronto. He was in front of his boss, Trevor, moments later. Even though he was a boss, he wasn‟t a bad bloke all in all. He had known him for a long time. Even considered him a friend. Right now, much to Sarge‟s chagrin, he was waffling on about productivity, schedules, pressures, and responsibilities. After all, he had to justify all the good he got as kick-backs. The lovely Existence Sphere parked behind his office couldn‟t have been cheap. “Hey, if you‟re going to chew someone‟s arse, get into that fuck tool, Riggs. He‟s the slackest cunt around,” Sarge said, knowing that his boss had to say such things, but wished he hadn‟t. Why wasn‟t Riggs in the office? Trevor stepped away from his desk. “You‟re a good worker, Sarge. But do you know who pays for all this shit you‟re putting together? Hmm?” “Don‟t know. Don‟t care. So long as I got my pay, I‟m one happy space cadet.” Trevor‟s eyes narrowed, and he came close to 10

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Sarge. The stench of his aftershave and last night‟s alcohol consumption saturated Sarge‟s senses. “You even seen one of those Schism folk? They‟re mighty scary. I mean, they‟re shit and piss in your pants and run away, scary.” “Nothing scares me.” “I‟d believe that from you. But if I get scared, you get fired. Understand that?” Sarge winced. If he didn‟t pay off the trader the rest of the money he owned him, he could lose Hayden. That just couldn‟t happen. Ever. “So what you want me to do, boss?” “Just finish getting that panel bolted by the end of the shift. When that‟s done, we can activate this amplifier thing the Schism are getting all jittery about. I can at least tell them we‟re on time and on budget. That should keep them happy for a bit.” “What‟s this amplifier do?” Sarge had never seen the Schism in the flesh, but he knew they lived in between the normal universe and the one hidden in the dark matter realms. Stories have been told of how they can manipulate the laws of physics to their will. He even heard how a supernova was created, a whole system burned in the fires of hell, because they got angry at losing a mouse shifter they were chasing. Apparently, the pilot of the freighter the shifter stowed away on plunged his ship into the Schism vehicle that pursued them rather than surrender. Sarge could understand that. 11

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His boss seemed to relax, letting out a sigh and patting Sarge on his back. “It detects shifters from orbit from what I‟ve been told.” Sarge let out a deep guttural guffaw. “Shifters? Fuck me they are wasting their money. Haven‟t been shifters round these parts for years.” His boss nodded. “Yeah, last I heard there was a small colony of peacock shifters on Boonta—right out in the deepest parts of the pine forest regions. But they got wiped out. Schism are thorough, I‟ll give „em that.” “Peacocks?” “You know, birds that are all colourful and…” But Sarge didn‟t hear the rest of what his boss said. His mind went back to his Hayden. Talking of beautiful things always reminded him of his man. He then thought of the Mattock Markets and how he got his most beautiful man out of there. A man he married to help complete the process of giving him his freedom…

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Chapter Four AD 3619 — Main selling arena, Mattock Markets

“N

ine-thousand, one-hundred,” a squat fellow with a dirty look in his eyes shouted out. The auctioneer‟s voice became louder and more excited as the bidding gained momentum. Within a blink of an eye, the price for the slave was well over nine-thousand five-hundred outer rim credits. Sarge raised his hand. “Nine-thousand, sevenhundred.” The atmosphere inside the main trading arena was electric. The noise was unbelievable as each bidder shouted out more and more bids, desperate to own the slave that was perfection personified in Sarge‟s mind. At one point, the auctioneer spanked the slave‟s buttocks with his hand over and over, causing the young man‟s skin, his lovely bubble butt, to turn a bright red. All the while the auctioneer cried out dirty comments along with 13

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accepting each increased bid. The crowd screamed out in primitive, sickening glee at the spectacle before them. Again, the slave didn‟t murmur. Sarge felt sick to his stomach. “I am glad you are all enjoying this, folks,” the auctioneer screamed. “But now relish the real assets of this fine young thing before you. Look at its genitals. What beauties.” The slave was stood up. Misty eyes and a sad expression were engrained on his face. Such a sight tugged on Sarge‟s heart. He didn‟t want to watch any more. But he had to. He had to get that young man away from this horror. “Ten thousand and fifty,” Sarge called out. He knew it was more money than he had, but he didn‟t care. He would worry about the details later. Right now he had to win. No matter what. The auctioneer fondled the slave‟s genitals, creating a focus for the frenzy he was generating. “Magnificent, aren‟t they!” The auctioneer‟s tactic had worked. The price was now well over Sarge‟s bid. He turned to look at the place in the arena where Riggs was seated. The man was deep in the moment, screaming out in sheer joy. Sarge was certain that if he could, he‟d be slathering at the mouth at the prospect of getting such a slave. That made Sarge even more determined. The bidding was like a rush of a tide, 14

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unstoppable. More and more the price for the young man climbed up, higher and higher. Sarge swallowed hard, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of what was before him. Appreciate the young man‟s beauty on a level that went far, far deeper than aesthetics. Sure, he had beautiful reddish balls, not hung too low but ripe and large in their sack. Yes, he had a cock that was ample, straight and true and untainted by any ugly veins. His foreskin covered his head nicely. All open at the mouth, offering a tantalising invitation to kiss and touch it and worship it, just as it should be. Not manhandled by uncaring bastards like the auctioneer. Sarge even noted that the man was well trimmed around his genitals, a slight treasure trail of light brown hair leading the path up to his cute navel. He licked his lips. That settled it. If he had to mortgage his house, then so be it. The young man would be his. He narrowed his eyelids, licked his lips once more and screamed at the top of his lungs, all the while his determination consuming him more and more. “Ten-thousand, nine-hundred!” His bid was null and void a split second later as a voice screamed out, “Ten-thousand, ninehundred and fifty.” It was Riggs. Sarge had to stop him. He had to stop all the bidders. But how? 15

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Chapter Five AD 3621 — Metro Super Ring, orbital construction station, site office

S

arge was knocked from his thoughts by Trevor slapping him on his back again. “Now get out there and get that panel bolted. Otherwise none of us will be working here no more. Got it?” Sarge nodded. “I got it. But if you fire me, and I lose my Hayden because of it, I‟ll come over to your place and ram my fist so far down your throat that your wife will have to talk to you though your arsehole. Got that?” His boss‟s lips crawled to a smile. “I do like you, Sarge. But just go, will you? Get the job done like you always do.” “What if Riggs gives me more grief. I won‟t be so forthcoming next time.” “Leave Riggs alone. He has enough problems.” Sarge snickered. “Yeah, finding his dick so he can feed it to his slave boys being one of them.” It was plain to see Trevor was fighting back a 16

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snicker. He cleared his throat, and added, “Say Sarge, how about you and Hayden come over on Saturday night. Wife‟s cooking up her speciality.” “Simulated Lamb casserole?” “Yep.” “We‟ll be there.” Sarge wandered back to the spot where he had been welding. He picked up his magno-welder with a new found enthusiasm and rammed it onto a twist bolt, pulling the trigger on the tool. His body vibrated, muscles bulged and sweat soon found his brow again. Determination to get the panel secured by the end of his shift took him over like a new emotion. He couldn‟t wait to get home. To be in his man‟s arms. To have him soothe away his worries like he always did. That was all he lived for. He sighed deep, securing the last twist bolt into place. Just in time, too. It was a few moments after knock-off time. Sarge smiled, switching on the safety of his magno-welder and placing it into his tool bag. A short flight via the company shuttle saw him at Metro Super, an orbiting habitat ring that housed well over one million people who needed to live and work in space. The Metro Super ring was joined by many other rings, Ganymede Tuesday and Junction to name two. The joined habitat rings formed a colony in space above the bustling, commerce centre that was Ardross Major. 17

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Once alone, after the shuttle docked, and he‟d been swept away with the crowd, saying all his goodnights to the few who offered such gestures to him, Sarge hailed for a ring taxi. The taxi was a free, automated service which took him right to his door. Sarge didn‟t have to knock. Didn‟t have to fumble in his pockets for the keys, either. Hayden always opened the door for him, a warm and gorgeous smile accompanying the action. That and Sarge having to come down to his husband‟s height so they could rub noses. As soon as the door opened, and Sarge had put down his heavy tool bag, he was in the arms of the one he loved and adored after their ritual greeting had been completed. Hayden never wore clothes. Instead, he graced himself in a gauze-like material that left nothing to the imagination but gave him an air of grace. Few could carry off such a look, but he definitely could. Today he had chosen a blue tinted material that complemented his white skin to perfection. A material laced with silver glitter. “I missed you so much today, my angel,” Sarge said, picking up the young man with ease so that their lips could touch. Sure, Sarge was a lot taller than his husband, but that never hindered any intimate moments or passionate kisses. Nothing could stop him from being close to Hayden. After many, many sweet kisses, a few with 18

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touches of their tongues, Sarge put his husband down. A quick pat on Hayden‟s backside when he turned to walk into the house proper was received by a gentle laugh. “I‟ve got somethin‟ special for you tonight, my care bear. Seein‟ as it‟s Friday and the weekend is callin‟.” Sarge‟s eyes widened. “What is it?” His angel‟s lips were moist from the attention he lavished on him at the door. Hayden took Sarge by his hand. “I drew a bath.” Sarge‟s stomach fluttered with delicious butterflies. A gentle moan escaped his lips. He loved it when Hayden bathed him.

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Chapter Six AD 3619 — Main selling arena, Mattock Markets

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arge blinked. The bidding was getting out of control, especially now that Riggs had joined in the chorus. Sure, he was a construction worker, but his wallet was fed by his rich daddy who passed away a few years back. About the same time Riggs turned into a jerk-off and began collecting slave boys for his own amusement. The man could easily pay him the thousand outer rim credits he owed. He just made Sarge wait for it. Riggs thrived on such power trips. The fucking weasel. “Eleven-thousand,” Riggs yelled out, spittle flying from his lips, his eyes crazy with twisted lust. Sarge gasped. That was all the money he could get his hands on, even if Riggs paid up. But he couldn‟t give up. He couldn‟t let this angel be taken away and abused. For such a man to not see his twenty-first birthday because of the way he‟d 20

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be treated by the likes of Riggs would be a crime beyond imagining. “Eleven-thousand and fifty,” Sarge chimed in. He knew Riggs would try and outbid him. He was the only man left who could. All the others seemed to have lost interest. Then again, Sarge had never heard of any slave selling for this much. A person could buy a year‟s supply of Atlantica Dream for that. Riggs leaned forward. It would only be a matter of moments before Riggs bid again. A matter of moments before the young man who had taken his breath away would be lost to him forever. The thought saddened Sarge to his core. He had failed. Then he saw it. Sarge wondered why he had missed such a thing in the first place. How anyone had missed it. The young man had a scar just above his left knee. Small, about an inch in length, but a scar nonetheless. The young man—the slave—was spoiled goods. He smiled. No wonder the auctioneer was concentrating on the man‟s genitals and buttocks. He was diverting attention away from the imperfection. An imperfection that, if seen by the bidders earlier, would have had a negative effect on the price of the slave. Something the trader who owned him wouldn‟t want. He raised his hand and screamed out, louder than what he had ever asked of his larynx and 21

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lungs in his life, “The fucking bastards are selling damaged goods at premium prices.” The crowed fell silent. The auctioneer took his hand off the young man‟s genitals, a look of sheer horror etched into his face. He opened his mouth but no sound eventuated. The slave stood silent and still. Sarge continued, “He‟s got a fucking scar! Look at his knee. They‟re trying to jack up the price by not revealing the damage to the goods. They‟re lying, cheating bastards, and they‟re trying to have a lend of us all. Why should we pay premium for such soiled stock?” A murmur rumbled through the crowd. The auctioneer jumped off the selling podium and ran toward Sarge. When in earshot, he said, “Please, sir, hush down.” Sarge craned his neck and yelled. “I will not be silenced. This trader is a fraud if he thinks he can peddle such inferior—” “Please!” The auctioneer grabbed Sarge by the arm. Sarge responded by offering him one of his get-your-hand-off-me-otherwise-you‟ll-never-useit-to-wank-again looks. The man let go. His eyes were wide with worry, his lips quivering. He added, “I think we both need to talk a little business seeing as you are currently the highest bidder…sir. Shall we retire to the trading office?” Sarge nodded. “Sure. But I ain‟t paying full price for him now.” 22

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“I‟m sure we can come to a mutually agreeable arrangement.” Sarge smiled. He had acquired his angel. His heart sang. Besides, no use kicking up any more fuss. The crowd had started to disperse. There were other sales going on, and this one was now uninteresting. Even Riggs had slithered away.

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Chapter Seven AD 3621 — Sarge’s apartment hub, Metro Super Ring

T

he bathroom was off their main bedroom on the far side of the house. Hayden led him all the way, his beautiful, long fingered hand warm inside his own. The view of his cute, bubble butt more than hypnotised as he walked, and even though Sarge knew the layout of the house by heart, he loved it when Hayden did such a thing. He smiled, one full and warm and filled with all the love he had for Hayden from the moment he took him home from the slave markets to this very second. His heart started to pound hard, the blood loud in his ears as his anticipation grew, while he thought about the next few moments. The bathroom was large. A massive tub off to the left from the entrance dominated the room. The scented oils Hayden had prepared, their odour intoxicating, added appeal to an already favourite room. “I‟m goin‟ to rub you down so you‟re all nice 24

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and relaxed, okay?” Hayden said, picking up a bottle of scented ointment. Sarge started unbuttoning his shirt. “You look like a bundle of nerves today, care bear. What happened?” Sarge‟s emotions flashed to anger for a brief moment. “Riggs is what happened.” He threw his shirt onto the floor, now fumbling with his belt and trouser button. “The fucking prick.” Hayden poured the scented oil, viscous and clear, from the bottle onto his hands. He rubbed them, an action that would make sure the fluid was warm before he applied it. “Don‟t worry about him. Just let me pamper you before I give you what you really want.” Sarge breathed in deep and let out a sort of growl when Hayden ran his oil slicked hands across his chest, circling his nipples to make them hard, make them ache for more. “I so want you to fuck me good and hard, my angel.” “I will. Patience.” Hayden‟s fingers were a delight across his skin. The man was careful not to get tangled in his chest hair, but forceful enough to let Sarge know he meant business. “Get into the tub. I‟m goin‟ to have my way with you.” Sarge dropped his pants, pulling his feet out of them as quick as he could without tripping over. He was in the bath within a blink of an eye. His cock hard, his foreskin retracted enough so that Hayden could get at his bulging head if he so wished. Pre-cum dribbled out from his piss slit 25

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like spider silk saturated in morning dew. Sarge groaned some more as he sank into the warm water. His stomach was filled with those delightful butterflies he always got when he knew he was about to get some action. What a way to start the weekend. Hayden threw off his gauze tunic. He was hard. His foreskin, even though it still clung to his head, had also retracted so that the sight of his beautiful pink glans could be feasted upon. A tear of precum also completed the look along with that delicious smile of his. He stepped into the water. Sarge grabbed Hayden around his waist, pulling him closer. “You‟re going to get yourself into trouble if you keep going like this.” “My intentions all along.” Hayden squirted more oil from the bottle. “Now let me rub your worries away some more.” Many sensuous moments were spent with Sarge shuddering in sheer delight as Hayden worked the oil into his skin. He rubbed his feet, legs, stomach, chest and nipples. Sarge was gasping, aching for more by the time Hayden had finished. The heat of the water and the scents of the oils mixed in with his erotic thoughts made him giddy. Hayden‟s touch was wonderful. His kisses even more so, especially when they deepened the level of their affection and chased each other‟s tongues. They kissed for an eternity. Bodies a tangle in the water, heated even more by 26

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their passion. Sarge groaned when Hayden broke their kiss. His lips tingled, and he yearned for more. He was about to protest, about to request more affection, when Hayden placed a finger on his lips and uttered, “Let me make love to you, my beautiful care bear.” Hayden was as hard as he had ever seen him, his cock throbbing with a gentle pulse that was fed by his quickened heartbeat. Sarge gasped, felt that wonderful tremble within. His husband‟s cock was not only magnificent, his foreskin had fully retracted, revealing his big, bulging head, now red and ripe. Those beautiful balls were tight in their sack. A sure sign he was ready, confirmed when he grabbed Sarge by his waist and coaxed him onto his hands and knees. “Oh fuck, take me, my angel. Take me fucking quick smart.” Hayden didn‟t reply. He couldn‟t, for a new sensation climbed through Sarge like a tidal current churning up an eternal ocean. Hayden was at him with his tongue now, licking and moaning while he worked. Delightful slurping noises filled the air. Sarge arched his back, his spine nothing but jelly as Hayden continued, on and on with the most sensual thing a man had ever done to him. Then it was over. But Sarge knew the respite wouldn‟t last long. He was now prepared. 27

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Within a blink of an eye, and before he could calm from the attention of a few moments ago, Hayden was rubbing his buttocks with the oil. Soon, and when he became used to that sensation, his rim was pierced, he was fingered deep. Sarge gasped as Hayden twisted, teased and traced circles with his slicked fingers. All the while letting out a growl that seemed to reverberate right down to his husband‟s touch. With an even deeper guttural growl, Sarge felt a sharp pain at his arsehole. A pain that ebbed away just as quick as it arrived. Replaced by raw ecstasy that swept him away in a sea of delight. Hayden had sunk his cock into his warmth, deeper and deeper. Sarge shuddered, his stomach now so filled with delicious butterflies that he had to hold onto the edge of the bath to support his own weight, knuckles white. His cock was rock hard, throbbing with anticipation of the events to follow. He dared not grab himself for fear of climaxing too soon. He couldn‟t disappoint his angel. Hayden kept on working, grunting, yelping. Sarge moaned. The sound of Sarge‟s arse being pounded, of Hayden‟s balls slapping against his skin, added to the erotic cacophony that overwhelmed everything else. He made love to Sarge forever. Holding him tight, letting go, then rubbing his back sensually. Sarge‟s arse burned with the attention, his insides 28

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churned with sensations he only ever felt while his man was inside him. His prostate stimulated so much he thought he would burst. He gasped more as his husband pumped his cock faster and faster within. Sweet tender kisses graced the back of his neck. Sarge was in heaven and his angel took him there. “Fuck!” was all he could wheeze out when Hayden pulled out. In that instant, Sarge missed him, his insides felt as though they had been moved back into a place that was unnatural all of a sudden. Hayden came around to face him. A moment was spent shuffling into position, the bath water spilling out to splash on the floor. Without a word, and getting his husband to kneel in the water, he cleaned off his cock and then took him into his mouth. A roll of his tongue and an increase in suction around his bulging head, concentrating his efforts on his frenulum, was all that was needed to coax a burst of cum from Hayden that filled his mouth. The thick, sticky fluid slid down his throat and numbed his tongue, but not before Sarge was overwhelmed by the taste of his man. All sweet and bitter and tangy and wonderful. It was hard to describe, but Sarge loved it. Hayden had collapsed onto him, ruffling his hair with quivering fingers, shuddering with ecstatic joy. He yelped in time as he pumped more and more of his love into his hungry mouth. Sarge took him all, 29

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not letting go of his cock until he went flaccid so he could tongue his foreskin as he always did. He loved Hayden‟s foreskin after he had made love, all loose and slippery with love juice. Perfect for playing with. “You‟re turn,” Hayden whispered, his voice hoarse from his exertion after Sarge had sucked and slurped on him, spurring him back to an erection. Another moment was spent getting into position, one filled with gropes and kisses and more touching of skin on skin. Soon Sarge was on his back and Hayden was at his erection with the most gorgeous smile, eyes looking up with hunger filled lust. Sarge groaned. He loved it when his angel blew him. Not for the fact he did it so well, but because he could give him a part of himself. And he would give him that part in no time flat. His stomach churned out of control, his climb toward ecstasy almost complete. Hayden licked Sarge‟s head to tease. Those plump lips of his, moist with a combination of saliva and pre-cum, were a magnificent sight. Fuck he was sexy. Then, before he could register the sensation, his husband took all of his cock into his mouth, right to the root of it so that his pubes were inhaled. He gasped while Hayden sucked and slurped. His husband even offered a few enticing gagging 30

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noises that resonated deep within Sarge when he took his cock in deeper and deeper, sucked harder and harder. Sarge‟s cock tingled, his balls numbed, and he moved his hips in time with Hayden‟s actions to help him take in as much as he dared. Sarge grabbed Hayden‟s head, not to force him to do anything, but to let him know that what he was doing was perfection. Hayden groaned again, and a hiss escaped from his cock filled mouth. Sarge shuddered. He wouldn‟t last much longer at all. “Take me, angel cake. Take me,” Sarge repeated. Not because he couldn‟t think of anything original to say, but because nothing original needed to be said. This was how Sarge made love to his man, after all. Then it happened. Sarge exploded. He tightened his grip on Hayden, but he didn‟t have to. His man loved his juice just as much as he did his. More and more Sarge released cum into his husband‟s mouth. An instant later, and when the last pulse of ecstasy delivered his last drop, a trickle of white cum ran out of the corner of Hayden‟s mouth. He had filled him for sure. When Hayden was done, he lay down in the warm water. “Come over here, beautiful bear. I want to hold you in my arms.” Sarge was in Hayden‟s arms within a heartbeat. The man caressed his skin, comforted him. He 31

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loved being soothed. Everything work life threw at him faded into the distance as his husband‟s heart beat calmed him to the point of wanting to sleep.

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Chapter Eight AD 3619 — Trader Z-alpha’s office, Mattock Markets

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nside the trader‟s office, a poky affair with one small table and two worn office chairs, Sarge was confronted by a man who could have been Riggs‟ twin brother. Fat, ugly and disgusting. He sweated profusely even though he‟d only got up off his seat to get to the door. “I hears there‟s been a slight problem out there today,” the rotund man said, voice rasping and thick with phlegm. He coughed a lot. The auctioneer offered a slight bow. “Here is the highest bidder for item 18-051-6000, sir.” Sarge offered a toothy grin. “Yep. That‟s me.” The trader rubbed his chins, looking as though he was deep in thought. Sarge knew exactly what he was thinking about. How to get as much money as he could to try and salvage the situation. “Do you have any idea the wholesale cost of that slave…buddy?” There it was. 33

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Sarge kept his smile. He had an idea and now was the perfect time to implement it. “You could lose your license for selling damaged goods without disclosure, you know…buddy.” A look of terror flashed across the man‟s piglike face. “Now, now, no needs to get like that. I‟m sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.” “Sure,” Sarge spat. “You give me the slave I bid on for five-hundred credits less than my winning bid. Let‟s call it compensation for the damage and be done with it.” The man looked like he was physically going to choke. “Now, now. Let‟s all be reasonable here, we‟re both intelligent and civilised, aren‟t we? It‟s a small scar. Surely such a defect won‟t affect its performance in any way. Let‟s make it two-fifty off the top and shakes hands…all right?” Sarge knew he had the man by the short and curlies now. All he had to do was pull a little harder. “Four-hundred less, and I pay half in cash now, the rest on a monthly payment plan. If the scar affects his performance in any way, then I return the slave and we are both square no matter how much is left in arrears. Deal?” The man wandered over to his desk. He shuffled some papers. Glanced up at Sarge and then back to whatever had caught his attention in the first place. “All right.” He pulled out a paper and held it up. Sarge recognised it as a title deed. 34

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In bold print on the top of the page was, Deed to Property 18-051-6000. “The slave is yours for sixthousand cash right now. But I want the full bid price. I want five-thousand and fifty on a three year hire purchase plan.” Sarge didn‟t care about what he had to pay. He had bought his angel and that‟s all that mattered. Without thinking, he asked, “What‟s the interest rate?” The trader smiled. “A modest nine percent.” Sarge extended out his hand. “Deal.”

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Chapter Nine AD 3621 — Sarge’s apartment hub, Metro Super Ring

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ayden kissed Sarge on his forehead, shattering his day dream. He didn‟t mind at all. “You hungry, care bear?” “For more loving, fuck yeah.” Hayden laughed and said. “You‟re incorrigible. No, I meant do you want some dinner?” “I‟ll cook it. You deserve some pampering, too.” Sarge pushed himself up, his biceps bulging as he used them to lift his weight out of the water. “What do you fancy?” “Somethin‟ sweet.” Hayden rose, too. He pulled a towel from the rail and dabbed Sarge‟s wet and oiled body with it. The towel was scented, washed in lavender oil, no doubt. He loved how Hayden cared about such small details. Details that made the everyday wonderful. “How about some more love juice from your care bear?” Sarge gave Hayden a gentle spank on his buttocks. “That‟ll give you as much sweet as 36

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you can crave, that‟s for sure.” Hayden grabbed Sarge‟s cock, squeezing gently. With a fluid movement across his shaft, pulling on the skin just how he loved it, he stimulated him back to erection. “Sure will. But I think we need to eat. I don‟t want you faintin‟ from lack of food. I sure can‟t pick you up and carry you anywhere.” “But you could give me mouth to mouth if that happened. That‟ll wake me from even the deepest coma, I‟m damn well sure.” “I said it once, I‟ll say it again, you‟re incorrigible.” Hayden let go of Sarge‟s cock and grabbed him around his waist, leading him out of the bathroom. He didn‟t bother putting on his tunic. Sarge didn‟t bother putting on clothes either. Behind them, the sound of the water swirling down the drain to the recycling unit was all that remained of their intimate moment. He missed Hayden on that level already. Still, there would be plenty more loving before the weekend was over. Plenty more opportunities to have his arse pounded by his adorable man. Sarge didn‟t feel complete unless he had his man‟s cock as a deep and throbbing part of him. Sarge smiled. They had passed through the bedroom and were now in the hall that ran the length of the house. “I know. But I‟ve got a fucking boner you‟re going to have to deal with real soon, food or not.” 37

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“You know I will.” This time Hayden spanked Sarge on his backside, a loud thwack echoed through the hall. Sarge quite enjoyed it when he got spanked. “But you‟ve got to be a good boy. No swearin‟.” “Yes, my angel cake.” “Ooh, cake. Let‟s have some of that. I made some chocolate ripple the other day. Plenty left.” “Cake? For dinner?” “Sure. Why not?” Hayden had that I will get what I want look in his eyes as he poked out his bottom lip before a beautiful, delicious smile. “Then I promise I‟ll finish what I started. I‟ll need some hot cream for dessert.” Sarge drew Hayden in closer, that familiar tingle in his balls rose up to wash over his reason. “You‟ve convinced me.” “Didn‟t have to try too hard, did I?” “No, siree!” Friday night soon rolled to Saturday, like a haze of memory caught up in a spiral that never ceases, never falters. Sarge spent that time in Hayden‟s arms, his cares far away. When the day was nearly spent, and they were lying on their bed together, holding each other, sharing the same air and enjoying the serenity, he turned to his angel, and said, “Trevor and his wife have invited us over for dinner tonight. You want to go?” 38

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Hayden played with Sarge‟s chest hair, his long fingers twirled it around. “Sure. I like Trevor. Although, I do think his wife has a thing for me. She pats my butt at any given chance.” “She‟s harmless.” Sarge grabbed Hayden‟s hand. “If you don‟t like it, just tell her.” Hayden let go his embrace and sprung up off the bed, a smile on his plump lips that more than revealed his enthusiasm. His cock jiggled with a hypnotic beauty, a sight he found made him weak at his knees. Hayden strutted toward the wardrobe. “So what shall I wear?”

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Chapter Ten AD 3619 — Slave holding Pens, Mattock Markets

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arge was taken to the slave holding pens. They were comfortable for what they were. Cages. Many, many young men, in rows and rows, looked at him with what he could only describe as fear. Two per cage. Most of these men had either been taken from their homes or sold by their parents who could no longer support another mouth to feed. Many were from Boonta, the sister planet of Ardross Major, a place of squalor and filled with peasants and farmers trying to scratch out a living. The planet was a lot cooler than most, which meant two things. Living off the open land frozen most of the year proved difficult, and the people of that planet were fair skinned, blond haired and pretty. A combination that had ignited the slave trade in the first place. The fat bastard of a trader led the way through holding pen alley. “You won‟t be disappointed with your purchase, I can assures you, sir…” The 40

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man waffled on…and on. Sarge wasn‟t really paying attention. The trader bored him to tears anyway. They turned a corner. Another large alley, filled with even more cages presented itself. These cages were more luxurious than what he saw before. The young men inside them a lot more attractive and not so blemished with the features slave buyers avoided like the plague. Freckles, scars, moles, birthmarks, anything like that lowered the price. Some of the more damaged slaves were even given away when purchased with another to clear them out of a trader‟s stock. Sarge swallowed hard. He hated the slave trade. Hated how it was only the young men who were bought and sold like objects. The women were never taken. They were valuable to the peasants of Boonta as stock producers. Why sell a daughter when she could produce six or seven or even eight boys? At the end of the more lavish cages, Sarge was taken aback by the sight of the young man he had purchased. He was curled up in the corner of the cage, hands over his face. Was he crying? “Here‟s it is. Enjoy.” The trader opened the cage. “Oh, and if you don‟t stick to our arrangement, your monthly payments wired into my account on time, there will be some…unpleasantness.” 41

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Sarge snarled. “Just fuck off and leave me alone. You‟ll get your money, don‟t you worry about that.” The trader offered a slight bow, an action that made his jowls wobble with disgusting fluidity. “I will leaves you to it. Hope to do business with you…” Sarge zoned the man‟s voice out of his mind. He was only interested in one thing. Getting his angel out of this terrible place. He stepped into the cage and the young man looked up straight away. Tears had left trails down his cheeks. He didn‟t know what to say to the slave. Should he introduce himself? Should he keep up the charade and demand the slave follow him? In the end, Sarge cleared his throat, and uttered, “I‟ve come to get you out of here.” The young man stood up. He was even more beautiful in close quarters than how he looked on the selling floor. He nodded, but didn‟t offer any words. The sadness in his eyes stained his face just like his tears.

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Chapter Eleven AD 3621 — On route to Trevor and Margaret’s apartment hub, Metro Super Ring

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he ring taxi ride to Trevor‟s house was uneventful, as all taxi rides should be. Hayden had his hand in Sarge‟s, and together they snuggled up close on the back seat, watching the street lights flash by and the hustle and bustle of the colony around them. Folk always seemed busy, no matter what time of day. Although, there was a lot more police activity than normal. Sarge was pleased his angel had chosen to wear his green tunic tonight, the one with the peacock feather pattern printed ever so delicately onto the gauze-like material. Glitter also accompanied the cloth, but in swirls around the eyes of the feathers. Still, even with all that, the sight of Hayden‟s beautiful body, of his ample genitals through the material, added even more to his appeal. They had another half an hour to go before they were at Trevor‟s door. His boss lived in the more 43

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affluent region of Metro Super. As bosses should, he supposed. Confidence in a monthly pay packet wouldn‟t be so great working for a man who lived in the slums or on Boonta itself. One thing he liked about Trevor and his wife was the fact they didn‟t own any slave boys. Some would call them old fashioned, as all homes had them these days. The slave trade was such a lucrative market that Boonta girls were given free genopills. Tablets they took once a month to increase the odds, sometimes by ninety percent, of them having a boy. Traders would even give families down payments for first rights to any boys born for an agreed time, which served two purposes. It ensured the girls and her parents lived in relative comfort as a reward for their services, and the trader could secure stock. A winwin situation…except for the poor boys who were taken to camps as soon as they could walk. They were trained how to be slaves. Then, when they were old enough to get an erection, they were given to their trader buyers ready for sale, some as young as eleven when such a thing happened. Sarge shivered. He liked old fashioned. “We‟re here, my care bear.” Hayden kissed him on his cheek. “You were miles away there for a moment. You all right?” “Yeah,” Sarge replied. “I‟m damn fine, so long as I‟m in your arms.” “Awww, you great big softy. Now c‟mon, 44

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Trevor‟s waving at us to get inside.” Sure enough, Trevor was beckoning. Fuck, the man was impatient. They were on time. What‟s with all the fuss? When inside his boss‟s house proper, and their greetings had been completed, including a pat on Hayden‟s backside from Trevor‟s wife, Margaret, Sarge couldn‟t help but notice that his boss was on edge…more so than normal. “So what‟s eating you, Trevor, old buddy?” Sarge asked. Trevor pulled on Sarge‟s arm. “You got a moment?” “Sure.” “In private?” Trevor‟s gaze flicked beyond him. Sarge turned to glance at Hayden. He was being fed little crackers with cheese and fancy green stuff on them. Margaret was giggling like a school girl, admiring more than Hayden‟s outfit as she led him into their well-appointed lounge, all soft furnishings and cushions. The smell of her simulated lamb casserole wafted in the air. “You going to be okay in here by yourself for a moment, angel cake?” Hayden had that look of dismay he always got when around Margaret, but in the end she was nothing he couldn‟t handle. “Sure. Just don‟t be long talkin‟ shop. I don‟t know how long I can keep eatin‟ the entrees.” “No worries. Hang in there.” 45

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Trevor took Sarge into his office, a room opposite to the lounge. When inside, his boss closed the door. “What do you know about Hayden?” Sarge was taken aback. “What the fuck do you mean?” Again Trevor‟s gaze flicked beyond Sarge. “I mean that I‟ve seen stuff…stuff that‟s got me a might concerned about you and him, that‟s what.” Sarge let out a guffaw. “Seriously? Fucking hell, Boss. Everyone knows I bought Hayden at the Mattock Markets two years ago. Nothing much else to tell.” Trevor gestured for Sarge to sit on one of his huge leather office chairs. The man went to the drinks cabinet and poured out two large glasses of whiskey. He gave one to Sarge. “Well, I think there‟s more to it than that.” Again Sarge chuckled. “Why should there be? The man was born on Boonta to a fucking dirty whore, then sold to a trader when he sprouted pubes. That‟s the way the slave trade works.” Trevor touched the rim of the glass to his lips. Then pulled away. “I don‟t think he‟s a slave.”

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Chapter Twelve AD 3619 — Sarge’s apartment hub, Metro Super Ring

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arge took the slave by his hand. The young man seemed shocked, but his face quickly returned to that of inherent fear. “What‟s the matter?” he asked, more as an instinctive query than anything that required thought. Again, the slave didn‟t say anything. He decided that perhaps the slave wouldn‟t open up while in the surrounds of his oppression. Something he could understand. When out of the holding pen alley and clear of the main market arena, Sarge hailed for a taxi. “Where ya want to go, buddy?” the taxi driver asked when he opened the door for him. Here on Ardross Major, taxis were driven by actual people. Something Sarge never got used to. “The docks,” Sarge barked. He wanted to get off the planet and as quick as possible. “Right-o.” They both sat on the back bench seat, but the 47

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slave kept his distance, almost cowering. Sarge couldn‟t help but look at him. His gaze was fixed on the beauty of him, his gentle demeanour and the way he oozed a certain amount of pride even though, for all intents and purposes, he had nothing. Sarge could also see the taxi driver staring at the slave, using the rear vision mirror to get his fill. “What the fuck you looking at, mate?” The taxi driver offered a broad smile, one Sarge found was too personal and too inappropriate for the moment. “You got a good buy, there. Looks like you‟re going to have a tasty bit of slave boy tonight, hey?” Sarge saw red. “Shut the fuck up. He‟s not a slave anymore. I got him to get him out of that place. So keep your dirty thoughts to yourself, you motherfucking fuck stick.” The taxi driver‟s eyes wandered back to the road in front of him. “That‟s what they all say.” “Yeah, well I don‟t lie! Do I look like a lying cunt to you?” Sarge grabbed a hand rail, an action that flexed the muscles in his right arm. His arm bulged and the tattoo he had of the stylised Mayan idol grew with his intention. He wanted to smash the driver‟s head into the dashboard of the taxi if he spoke another word against his angel, but he caught a glimpse of a smile from the young man. That sight soothed him. He blinked. A calm washed over him and he relaxed. 48

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“Sorry, sir. “Just get to the docks pronto.” “Yes, sir.” Sarge opened his apartment door for the slave, unable to keep his gaze from wandering down to his damn fine bubble butt. “Here‟s where I live,” he offered meekly, finding words difficult for the first time in his life. How was he going to get it into the young man‟s head he wasn‟t owned anymore? How could he instil into his heart he was free? The young man went straight into the sitting room. He sat cross legged on the floor near the main arm chair, like a dog would sit by his master‟s feet. Did all slaves do that out of automatic conditioning? Of course they did. Such a thing would have been part of their training. Indoctrinated so such a thing became instinct. Sarge came into the room proper. He sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. “Do you want a drink…something to eat?” The young man shook his head, but his eyes still clung to that sadness. At least that was a reaction. Sarge sat down, but not on the chair where the slave had made his home. He was about to kick off his shoes when the slave crawled across the floor, coming toward him. The young man grabbed his shoes and began untying the bows. 49

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“You don‟t have to do that. I‟m a grown man.” Sarge pulled his feet from the slave‟s grasp. A shoe fell with a dull thud onto the floor. “You can sit on the chair, warm yourself up. I‟ll go fix us both some dinner. Don‟t know about you, but I‟m fucking starving.” The slave looked up at him. Again there were those sad eyes, but something else, too. Curiosity perhaps. With a voice that was as soft and gentle as Sarge had ever heard in his life, the young man said, “You‟ve got a tattoo.” Sarge was taken aback. That wasn‟t what he was expecting the young man to say, not for his first words, anyway. “Yeah. You like it? It‟s a Mayan idol design. Thought it up myself. Hurt like a motherfucker, but the result was worth it. I got it when I was on duty back in the days of—” Sarge had to stop himself from babbling. He couldn‟t help it. The young man seemed to give him as sense of ease he had never experienced before. He wanted to tell him everything and as soon as possible. “Can I touch it?” With those words the slave blushed. Like it was forbidden for him to ask questions or speak without permission. “You can touch what you damn well like. Everything of mine is yours…if you want it.” The slave nodded. “We‟re not allowed to have a tattoo.” “From now on you can have whatever you 50

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fucking well want.” “You‟re different to everyone else who comes to the market. You don‟t have that look of…you don‟t have malice in your eyes.” A gentle touch caressed his arm as the young man traced the design with precise care. Sarge breathed in deep, relishing the man‟s attention. He couldn‟t help but notice the tickle he felt along his leg. He glanced down. The young man‟s genitals were brushing against the cloth of his summer trousers while he leaned forward to touch his tattoo. Sarge smiled. “I think you‟re so handsome…um, what‟s your name?” “My name is Hayden.” He stood up straight. His cock was semi hard, pre-cum had started to ooze from his exposed piss slit as his foreskin slid back over his growing head. That pleased Sarge. Showed him beyond doubt that they had a connection. Sarge repeated the young man‟s name like it was the breath of life being driven into him for the first time. “Hayden.” “Yes. And I want to stay with you, if that‟s all right.” “I would like that.” Hayden smiled. “Good. Now let me show you somethin‟ special.” Sarge felt his loins stir. His stomach quivered in erotic delight. “All right.” Hayden leaned forward once more. But, and in 51

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complete surprise, he rubbed his nose against his own, twice on each side. Again Sarge was taken aback. But he had to admit, he liked it. When done, and standing once more so that Sarge could take in all his glory, namely the fact that his cock was even more filled with his intent, he said, “Slaves can‟t talk to each other or touch in any intimate way or we are punished. So we rub noses to show affection. To do it with you means that I accept you, and because you aren‟t a slave, it also means that I wouldn‟t mind…I would like to get to know you a little better. I want to be with you.” “I want to be with you, too,” Sarge whispered. “As equals.” Hayden smiled again, but this time the sadness from his eyes seemed to dissipate. “But you can‟t be equal with an object. It‟s against the law.”

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Chapter Thirteen AD 3621 — Trevor and Margaret’s apartment, Metro Super Ring

“W

hat in Christ‟s name are you crapping on about, Trevor?” Sarge stood up, the contents of his glass spilling to splash over his suit. “Hayden was a goddamned slave. I‟ve got the fucking title deeds stashed away somewhere to prove it. I then married him to ensure his freedom. Simple as that.” “Then how come he had a name?” Trevor patted Sarge on his back. “I know you didn‟t name him. You told me the story of when you first got him home. I‟m telling you, slaves don‟t have names. Why would peasants name boys who they were going to sell in exchange for food for another year, hmmm?” Sarge narrowed his eyelids. “What brought all this on?” “This afternoon two of the Schism visited the construction site. I‟ve only just got back. They got 53

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all demanding and on edge like they always do.” Trevor paused to gather his thoughts. He looked rattled. “I said we were on schedule so they asked me to prove it, as I knew they would.” “What the fuck happened?” Sarge asked, more out of reaction than to add anything to the conversation. Concern, slight and deep down, tingled at his conscious. “They turned on the space amplifier thing we‟ve been building, seeing as it‟s basically operational. Just cosmetic stuff left—” “Yeah, yeah, I know all that. Get on with the story.” “Sarge. Buddy. Mate. It detected about a hundred shifters. I saw the data with my very own eyes.” “Where?” Trevor swallowed hard. “All over the colonies that orbit Ardross Major. The amplifier was directed at the colonies and that‟s where they detected the shifters. They got all excited and charged out of the office. When I studied the readouts, I came across this.” He retrieved a sheet of paper out of the top drawer of his desk and handed it to Sarge. “It locates where the shifter are, right down to the spatial coordinates. Apparently, shifters metabolise at a different rate or some such shit like that.” Sarge could only make out meaningless figures in blocks of three on the page. There were about a 54

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hundred of these sets. Sarge swallowed hard. One thing was certain, they were coordinates. “Let me guess, you ran these figures through the computer and one of them matches up with the location of my fucking house, right?” Trevor nodded. With a voice steeping in concern, he whispered, “I believe Hayden is in…danger.” “That‟s fucking bulldust, Trevor. Hayden‟s not a shifter. He would have told me if he were. We‟ve been through everything together over the last two years. Don‟t you think I‟d know if…” Sarge‟s mind went into overdrive. He cast his thoughts back to any clue or sign that his angel was a shifter. He could understand why Hayden would keep such a thing a secret, having Schism on your arse didn‟t exactly promote warm feelings. Sarge could also understand why shifters hid amongst the slaves. Becoming a slave would mean that they would have complete secrecy. No one gave a shit about slaves or how they behaved. No one would report a slave so long as they did what they were told without question no matter how degrading the request of them. Pity slaves didn‟t live long. He felt sick to his stomach. The Schism must be scary motherfuckers if the only choice a shifter had was a life of slavery to survive. Why were they hunting them in the first place? Sure, Sarge had 55

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heard of how the Schism thought they were against nature‟s laws, but then again so was Riggs. That wasn‟t a good enough reason to try and murder a species in his mind.

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Chapter Fourteen AD 3619 — Sarge’s apartment, Metro Super Ring

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arge gestured for Hayden to be seated. The man came next to him, sitting close and keeping a hold of his arm which brandished his tattoo. “I want to ask you for your hand in marriage, Hayden.” The young man looked taken aback. He smiled. “I think I understand.” “I know it‟s a lot to take in and I‟ve sprung this on you all of a sudden, but if we got married it would ensure your freedom. That‟s it. You can do as you like. I‟m not some sick motherfucker like Riggs—” “Who‟s this Riggs?” “No one who can bother you now.” Hayden ran his hand, a touch that was soft and warm and inviting, across the length of his arm. He rested at Sarge‟s hand. A second later, they were holding each other. Sarge smiled. The young man‟s face hardened. “So aren‟t I supposed to get 57

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an engagement ring or somethin‟ like that if I am to be married to a big, strong man who swept me off my feet and wants me to consummate my love for him?” Sarge cleared his throat. “I—I don‟t want you to do anything you don‟t want to. Besides, I‟m an old fashioned kind of bloke, a romantic if you will. We don‟t do any horizontal folk dancing together until our vows are set. Clear?” Hayden let go of Sarge, coming to run his hand along his chest underneath his shirt. Sarge couldn‟t help it. He let out a gentle moan. “Don‟t I even get any kisses?” Sarge felt his loins stir again. In fact, he was as hard as a rock, the cloth of his trousers restricting his movement. “Fuck, you can have kisses. As many as you can handle. And hugs and all that other sort of shit that goes with the territory of two folk going out together. I‟ll even buy you some clothes…if you want that.” Hayden‟s eyes lit up. “Real clothes?” “Yeah. What you think I meant? Spray on crap that the hippies of Boonta plaster all over themselves to scare away tourists?” “Ooh, let‟s go shoppin‟ for clothes.” Hayden sprang to his feet. He no longer had a semi, just a nice, wet ended foreskin that Sarge wouldn‟t mind licking clean. Such a thing could be considered kissing, couldn‟t it? “I‟m sure there was a boutique shop just down the street that had a wonderful 58

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see-through tunic I just adored. All bright greens and blues and peacock feathers. We should go look at that first.” Sarge was pulled from his chair. The young man was strong. He had come out of his shell and all it took was an offer of some skin covering. “We have to go to the registry office in the Civilian Trade and Commerce building first. We‟ve got to make sure you‟re a free man and as soon as possible.” “Sure, I understand.” As soon as the taxi door opened and he hopped out, Hayden ran into the boutique shop. They had registered their intent to marry about an hour before, an act that meant his angel‟s freedom was secured. Sure, it cost him another thousand outer rim credits, but to Sarge such a cost was worth it. The smile on Hayden‟s face, the lifting of the eternal sadness he once had while saturated in the oppression he was born into, was more than enough repayment. The shop assistant, a thin weedy man whose eyes seemed to boggle out of their sockets, glared at Hayden. The sight of a naked young man, excited and enthusiastic at the prospect of getting clothing, inside his shop seemed to cause concern. Thankfully, for him, he relaxed his expression when he caught sight of Sarge. Such a thing amused him, and he couldn‟t help but chuckle to 59

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himself. Sarge yelled out, “Hey, buddy. Get that arse of yours over here. I‟m looking to buy some clothes for my fiancé.” The shop assistant trotted over, trying to look as though he had an air of grace but failed miserably. He glanced again at Hayden, cocking an eyebrow. “I see he‟s not accustomed to wearing any, sir. I am also sure you are aware of the law that no slave can own anything.” The assistant coughed into his hand. “Is he a registered free man?” “Yeah, he‟s a free spirit all right. I got the fucking paper work to prove it.” The assistant looked Sarge up and down. “I see.” Sarge decided against giving the man a talking to. He was in too good a mood anyway. Hayden‟s enthusiasm had well and truly rubbed off on him. “My fiancé tells me you have a tunic in the front window that‟s got a peacock design on it or some shit like that.” “Yes. It‟s part of our new summer collection and such a beautiful—” Sarge moved close to the annoying little man, so close their noses almost touched. “Listen buddy, I don‟t give a flying fuck what it‟s a part of, let‟s see it on my man. Pronto.” “Yes, sir. Immediately, sir.” Before Sarge could sit on one of those looks60

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good-but-was-as-uncomfortable-as-all-fuck-chairs all boutiques had, Hayden strutted out of the changing rooms attired in the tunic that had caught his eye. Sarge drew in a breath. Hayden looked stunning. The colours on him were perfect, and what‟s more, everything could be seen underneath. His perfect white skin, his cute pink nipples the size of nickels and his impressive cock and balls which Sarge had already burned into his memory. The material sure was see through, yet patterned just how his angel had described. With peacock feathers and glitter swirls for good measure. The assistant fiddled with the material and brushed imaginary lint off Hayden‟s shoulder. “I do think this looks a treat on your fiancé, don‟t you?” Sarge stood up. “Turn around, angel,” he said, somewhat automatically. It was the first time he had called Hayden angel and was unsure if doing such a thing was appropriate considering they had only known each other half a day. Hayden let out a delighted chuckle as he twirled for Sarge. “I think I love it, my care bear.” Care bear? Sarge thought about that for a moment. Hayden was right. He did care for him, and yes, compared to him, he was a hairy beast of a man. “How much is it?” he barked at the assistant who he was sure was busy checking out 61

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Hayden‟s backside. After all, he was, too. “It‟s seven-hundred outer rim credits, a bargain for sure for a garment that compliments your fiancé unlike any other.” Sarge let out a laugh. “He‟s only tried on one fucking thing. That‟s a damn bold statement, wouldn‟t you say? Damn bold price, too.” “I can knock off a hundred credits for cash, but that‟s my lowest price. Getting the absolute latest in fashion up from Ardross Major isn‟t cheap, my dear fellow.” Sarge was about to tell the man to stow it, then give him a piece of his mind for even offering such a cock and bull excuse to justify the price of a piece of cloth, a slip of gauze, when he caught a sound that aroused his curiosity. To him the noise was like that which a bird would make, a sort of cooing accompanied by a gentle warble. He turned to Hayden. His angel was standing at the mirror, admiring himself, touching himself along the seams of the fabric that contoured his body. The noise was coming from him. Sarge cleared his throat. “Hey, angel, um…do you like the outfit or not?” Hayden turned to face them both. He had a full blown erection, the cloth billowing out in front of him, and a smile on his face which solidified his excitement. That, and what Sarge hoped were tears of joy streaming down his face. 62

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Before Sarge could say another word, the assistant said, “I think your fiancé likes it a great deal.” “We‟ll take it,” Sarge said.

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Chapter Fifteen AD 3619 — Leaving LaRue’s boutique, Fashion Alley, Metro Super Ring

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arge turned to Hayden. His angel was busy feeling the fabric of the peacock tunic and the two other outfits he had bought him. “Can I ask you something, my angel?” Spreading himself and what he had acquired across the bench seat of the taxi and without looking up, Hayden replied, “Sure. Ask me anythin‟.” He leaned over and pecked Sarge on his cheek. “You‟ve made me feel so special today. Thank you.” “Hey, don‟t fucking mention it.” Sarge smiled. He couldn‟t help but get carried away by Hayden‟s enthusiasm and joy for the new experiences he was living through right now. But to help him understand his lover better, he wanted to know more about him. To find out more about him meant asking some difficult questions. Questions Hayden may not want to face so soon 64

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after his freedom. “If you don‟t want to answer me, just tell me to fuck off, okay? I won‟t be offended.” “Just ask me.” Hayden returned to his admiration of the cloth. Sarge swallowed hard. “When you were in the slave market…what did they do to punish you? I know that they couldn‟t physically harm you, like with a whip or a belt or anything like that. Such a thing would leave a blemish on your skin and affect your price. Not what those fucking trader bastards would want, that‟s for sure. You talked of punishment earlier, I was just curious.” Hayden stopped what he was doing, looking distant for a moment. When he turned to look at Sarge, his eyes were watery. “They separated us.” Sarge was taken aback. “I don‟t think I get it.” Hayden opened his mouth and for the longest time no sound eventuated. Finally, he murmured, “I can‟t be alone. I just can‟t.” From the tone of his voice and the emotion soaked into every word, Sarge didn‟t want to ask any more questions. He didn‟t like seeing his angel sad. He decided to change the subject. “So…you want to go out to dinner tonight? Test drive that new outfit, hey?” The spark within Hayden‟s eye rekindled. “I would so love that. Can I get my nails done, too? And my hair? I would like to have it styled so that my fringe is perfect and straight. Oh, and I would 65

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so love it if I could wear some makeup. Nothin‟ fancy, just a bit of eyeliner in a nice electric blue or emerald green. I‟ve seen some of the folk wearin‟ it and it looks awesome. Is that all right?” Sarge smiled. “Anything for you, my beautiful angel.” He leaned forward. “Computer, head on over to the Saddle Street Emporium. We have some more shops to visit.” “Yes, sir,” the computer chimed in a pleasant androgynous voice. “Please insert twenty more outer rim credits into the payment slot.” Sarge watched as Hayden got his makeup put on. A thin man with crow feather black hair, handsome for what he was, fussed over his angel. Applying, removing and re-applying the wonderful emeralds and deep blues to his skin. For over an hour he sat in the chair, admiring the attention lavished upon him. Finally, when the man stepped away and Hayden stood up, Sarge was stuck with awe. He looked perfect. The makeup accentuated his beautiful eyes and facial features without looking too gaudy. In fact, the makeup looked stunning. Like he was now in full bloom and the sun had kissed his skin to confirm and reward his handsomeness. Sarge felt himself stir. Damn fucking hell to heaven, Hayden was stunning. “Well, aren‟t you going to say anythin‟?” Hayden asked. He already had his nails and hair 66

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done. If Sarge had seen him like this at the markets he would have fainted. He had to sit down. Not because they had shopped for hours, but because Hayden made him weak at the knees with the mere curl of his lip. What he looked like now was heart palpitation material. “You‟re better than an angel. To me you look like a beautiful peacock strutting around all proud and beautiful.” Hayden let out a chuckle behind his hand. “I am a peacock, silly bear.” But Sarge didn‟t hear his words. Hayden had grabbed him by his hand at the same time he spoke, his touch electric. His loins stirred and once more he was uncomfortable in his own clothes. Still, he wouldn‟t have it any other way. Hayden‟s breath, his stare and the merest quiver of his smile was enough to make him as deaf as a post, unaware of anything except for his love for this one man. Sarge was more than smitten. He was entranced.

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Chapter Sixteen AD 3621 — Trevor’s home office, Metro Super Ring

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o matter what you think, whether he‟s a shifter or not, I think you‟ve got to go talk to him,” Trevor said, heading toward the door. A gesture that meant the meeting, to him anyway, was over. “The coordinates definitely point to your house and by heck that means the Schism will be calling on you very soon. From my limited dealings with them I don‟t think either you or Hayden want or need that, do you?” Sarge followed him. “I think you might be right. Then again, you‟re always right, you bastard.” “That‟s why I‟m the boss.” Trevor opened the office door and offered Sarge a cheeky grin. “And paid the big bucks, hey? Besides, I think I know what kind of shifter my angel is. The signs have been there all along, I just haven‟t fucking seen them…or didn‟t think much of them at the time, more to the point.” 68

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“What kind of shifter is he, then?” “He‟s a peacock shifter.” Trevor stopped dead in his tracks. “Do you think he‟s one of the ones from that doomed Boonta colony out in the forests?” Sarge shrugged his shoulders. “Don‟t know.” “Say, aren‟t shifters supposed to have a foundation or something like that? You know, so they can change back to human form?” Again Sarge offered a non-committal comment and a gesture to match. “Not the fuck sure.” “What I‟m trying to say is that if he is a shifter, who was his foundation before you bought him at the Mattock Markets?” “I don‟t know who his foundation would have been,” Sarge continued, “but he‟s already told me that he can‟t be alone, now that I think about it. Perhaps another slave boy was his foundation…as a sort of temporary measure, I mean. They are caged in pairs.” Trevor rubbed his stubbled chin, the rasping loud even as they walked through his large house. “It‟s a possibility, for sure. Shifters are a relative unknown.” They entered the lounge. Margaret was busy making sure she kept an eye full on Hayden while he made sure that‟s all she did by keeping his distance. “I see you‟ve finished your secret men‟s meeting then, hmmm?” Margaret wandered over 69

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to the drinks cabinet, pouring out golden brown fluid from an old fashioned decanter into a well cut glass. Sarge couldn‟t help but wonder if this was all rich folk did, drink and sit around. Trevor went to his wife. “I think we need to check on how dinner is going. Right, darling?” “Don‟t be silly, Trevor, it‟s all—oh, I see.” She put down the glass she had filled. “Yes. I thought I could smell something burning earlier. Best if we checked.” When Trevor and Margaret were out of ear shot, Sarge turned to Hayden. “I think we‟ve got to talk, angel cake.” A puzzled look flashed across Hayden‟s face. The one he always got when he didn‟t understand what was going on, when he wasn‟t in control of a situation. “What‟s the matter?” Sarge sat down on the couch next to him, placing his arm around his husband. How was he going to confront his angel about whether or not he was a shifter? Would he get upset? Sarge didn‟t like to see him upset. “You‟re a shifter, aren‟t you?” There, Sarge had said it. He was never one for beating around the bush or mincing words anyway. Get it all out in the open. That was the best policy. “Of course I am.” Hayden offered a smile. He drew in close to Sarge, running his hand across his chest. “I thought you knew. I told you that first day you took me into your home. Don‟t you 70

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remember?” Sarge sat dumbfounded for a moment. “Fuck, I‟ve got to admit, I don‟t ever recall you telling me.” He placed his hand into Hayden‟s. “But I also admit, the realisation that I had rescued you from the markets must have clouded my memory. It was like a dream, you know? I mean, you‟re fucking adorable. Why wouldn‟t I be dumbstruck? You do intoxicate me so, even now.” “I know. That‟s why I have been so safe in your company.” Hayden looked deep into Sarge‟s eyes. “I could tell you were smitten with me, even from that sellin‟ platform. Your mouth droppin‟ wide and that look of love in your eyes was more than enough to convince me I was right. So I changed a part of myself to give you the chance you needed.” Hayden pulled his tunic up above his left knee. There wasn‟t any scar there at all. How was it Sarge hadn‟t noticed that before? “You‟re putting a fucking spell on me, aren‟t you?” His words weren‟t said with any grain of malice, far from it. He laughed, delighted that his angel had kept his true identity a secret, even from him. It had ensured his safety for two years. “So how did you do it?” “I could say love is blind, but that‟s not entirely true.” Hayden shifted his weight on the couch. “You are my foundation, and as such, I do have a small influence over you. Nothing that would affect you in any way to cause you harm, more 71

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like a—and I hope I am using the right term here—hypnotic suggestion. Although, I have to say, I‟ve hardly had to use it. You do a damn fine job of yourself getting drunk by my presence and I love you so deep and for the eternity of the universe for it, my care bear.” “Hypnotic suggestion?” Hayden leaned over, planting a kiss on Sarge‟s cheek. “In a manner of speaking, that‟s the best I can explain it.” Sarge thought about that for a while. He could see how some folk wouldn‟t like having such a thing affect them, no matter how small an influence. “And these Schism folk, they don‟t like the effect you shifters have on others, do they?” “Not at all.” Again a sadness overtook Hayden‟s normally bright disposition, staining his handsome face. “They think we are unnatural. They think we are disgusting. All us shifters want is to be loved and to love back. Nothin‟ more. Nothin‟ less. All we want is what you and I have had over the last two years.” He paused, his sorrow replaced by what Sarge could only describe as fear. “Believe me when I say this, my care bear, I have never influenced you in any way so that it would affect any judgement you had. In truth, I have evolved along with you, our love creating the depth that we now enjoy.” He paused again. “You don‟t have to tell me somethin‟s happened. I can see it in your eyes. The Schism 72

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know about me, don‟t they?” Sarge felt terrible all of a sudden. His stomach turned. He whispered, “The space amplifier was activated this morning.” Hayden gasped. “Then we must get away from here.” “How? When?” “Tonight. We must go tonight. The Schism will act fast and eradicate any shifter they encounter…or any who get in their way. I can‟t risk losing you, my beautiful, big strong bear. I would just die inside.” “But no one knows we‟re here.” Hayden shook his head. “That won‟t matter. The Schism are cunnin‟. They will have many agents. Folk who you thought you could trust will turn me in at the mere thought of the riches they can acquire through the Schism‟s infinite wealth of resources.” Sarge nodded. “Yeah, I heard about their dark matter gems and other shit like that. The motherfuckers sure are loaded.” Hayden harrumphed. “Those so-called dark gems are worth more than any amount of Atlantica Dream. Many would want to get their hands on them. Money is even more blindin‟ than love. I know. My people have suffered because of the rewards the Schism offer.” Sarge stood up, offering his hand to his husband. “Then we must go. And if any 73

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motherfucker wants to get to you, they‟ll have to go through me first.”

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Chapter Seventeen AD 3621 — Trevor and Margaret’s lounge, Metro Super Ring

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argaret and Trevor came back into their lounge. The look on their faces told Sarge they had been listening to everything that was said. The next words out of Trevor‟s mouth, confirmed Sarge‟s thought. “You must both get onto the next shuttle that goes to Ardross Major. From there, you can catch a freighter or some other transport that can take you out of the system.” Hayden said, “I agree.” “But what about money and shit like that?” Sarge questioned. “Without me working there won‟t be an income. Without an income, I could lose you to those traders, angel. I don‟t want that in a blue fucking fit. I‟ll be replacing one evil with another if you ask me.” Trevor gestured for Sarge to calm. “A life of slavery may be the better option in this case, 75

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Sarge. The Schism aren‟t the best folk to get on the bad side of.” Sarge‟s stomach churned. “What the fuck do we do, then?” Margaret said, “Don‟t worry. We will take care of the details. Just go. The news feed is flooded with reports of Schism activity all over the colony, and of the murders that are left in their wake.” Hayden was already at the door. Sarge wasn‟t so keen to rush off without at least some planning. Packing up everything and running away wasn‟t his idea of achieving anything. He‟d rather stay put and break some heads then ask questions later. Then again, he couldn‟t think of himself anymore. He had to think of his angel. The last two years of his life was enriched beyond imagination by his husband. All Sarge wanted was many more years like that. Together with him until they were old. Trevor slapped Sarge on his back. “Sorry you‟ll miss out on the wife‟s cooking, buddy, but I think Hayden‟s right. You‟ll both be all right, I‟m sure.” Sarge said, “We‟d better be, „cause if anything happens to my angel, I‟m gonna be mighty pissed off.” Margaret opened the front door. “We don‟t want to see that, now do we? Now, please, both of you go and for heaven‟s sake, be safe.” Trevor grabbed Sarge‟s arm. “Wait, you don‟t want to take a Ring taxi, they‟re easily stopped. 76

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Take one of my cars. The blue Skystar will do you. She‟s reliable and goes like the clappers when you put your foot down.” “You sure, boss?” “Of course, I‟m sure. Now do as the missus says and get going.” Trevor handed him the start tag. Hayden was already out the door and beyond sight. Sarge hoped he was heading for the garage. When Sarge opened the garage door, a large building to the side of his boss‟ apartment, Hayden was already inside the car. He sat with his arms folded, impatient as he‟d never seen him. “I‟m coming, angel cake.” Hayden didn‟t reply. Sarge had been in the colony long enough to know that even though private cars could be accessed without bother, starting them required the DNA tags of their owner. He also knew he couldn‟t have driven the car unless Trevor gave him authorisation. He must have prepared for this since walking out of that meeting with the Schism. He swallowed hard, climbing into the driver‟s seat. Whatever was said between his boss and the Schism fuckers must have got him spooked for sure. Then again, news of the carnage sweeping across the Ring colonies was enough evidence of the content of the conversation. The Schism wanted the shifters dead. All of them. Sarge placed the start tag into the required slot on the dashboard, and a split second later the 77

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engine fired. Another short moment after that, they were careening through the streets of Metro Super. Street lights reflected a strange pattern on the windshield. Police sirens everywhere. Cars everywhere. Even the taxis seemed to be in greater quantity than was normal. Perhaps everyone had the same idea. Get out of the colonies while the Schism were purifying the city. He turned the car into a relatively quiet street. One that wasn‟t too far from their own home. “I think we need to make a detour before we head for the docking area.” “What sort of detour?” That worried look became accentuated on Hayden‟s face. He twiddled his thumbs and fidgeted his leg. A sure sign of his agitation at being on the same structure as the Schism. Sarge‟s lips curled. “I think it‟s time a debt was paid.” “You‟re not going to go see Riggs, are you?” “No. We are.” Sarge pressed down on the accelerator switch with his thick thumb, slamming the car into reverse at the same time. With a squeal of ball tyres and thick white smoke, they sped down another road. One that would take them to Riggs‟ place. Again, Sarge smiled. He‟d take the money of the fat fucker come hell or high water. If he was leaving Metro Super for good, then every penny would count now. 78

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Again the world outside the vehicle was a blur of buildings and lights and cars and people. Again it wasn‟t long before Sarge slammed on the brakes. They had arrived. Riggs lived in the same area as Sarge. On the same block and only a few streets away to be exact. Modest buildings, neat neighbourhoods. Plenty of parks where he had walked hand in hand with his angel. Nice people…generally. Tonight, this section of the Ring‟s suburbs was quiet. More so than usual. Perhaps the Schism had already combed this part of the Ring structure. Perhaps they hadn‟t started. Whatever had happened or was about to happen, Sarge didn‟t really care. He just wanted to get his money and get the fuck out of the colony as soon as was humanly possible. He opened the car door for Hayden. With a sigh, one that signified his defeat of the situation, his angel climbed out and took him by his hand. “I hope you know what you‟re doing, care bear.” “I hope so, too.” Together they walked up to Rigg‟s front door. All of a sudden Sarge had a bad feeling, right in the pit of his stomach, about coming here at this time. He hated visiting Riggs at the best of times. Yet this time something seemed different, and he couldn‟t put his finger on it. He swallowed hard. Hayden held him tight. Riggs opened the door for them once the door buzzer was pressed. Sarge was taken aback by the 79

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sight of the man. He was slick with oil, his thick hairs plastered to his white skin. He was naked, except for a towel he had grabbed to cover his modesty. “What do you want?” the man asked, his tone acidic, impatience in his eyes. “I think we need to have a little chat, Riggs,” Sarge spat, no longer worrying about any sugar coating. No longer worried about whether or not he‟d get his money, because he‟d take it out of the man‟s fat fingers as he lay unconscious on the floor after he had decked him, if he had to. Riggs slid his gaze over Hayden. A crooked smile creased his lips, one filled with lust. “I hope it‟s to negotiate some sack time with that tasty bit of man you call your husband.” Sarge barged his way past Riggs, knocking him into the door frame. “Keep your dirty fucking thoughts to—” His voice was choked away from him by the sight which confronted him as soon as he was in Rigg‟s apartment proper. He managed to add a gasp of horror, moving so he shielded Hayden. In the lounge, more than a dozen slave boys were in positions Sarge had only seen in underground holoVids. Some were muzzled like animals. Some bound. Some had been whipped or beaten. But all were engaged in sexual acts, performing on each other. Moaning and groaning, crying out in agony and ecstasy, as they acted out 80

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Riggs‟s sick fantasy. Sarge stepped back into the foyer, sick to his stomach. Any attempt to shield Hayden from the sight for long had failed. His angel had already stepped into the house, his reaction the same as Sarge‟s. One of sheer horror. “Holy Mother of Mercy!” Hayden said. Words Sarge didn‟t think were in his vocabulary. Hayden ran into the lounge, coming to kneel next to one of the slave boys who had been whipped. His skin caked in blood, dried and fresh. Why he did such a thing Sarge knew moments later and with his next words. “Amza, my friend, can you hear me? Amza!” It was then Sarge recognised the young man Hayden was trying to comfort. He had been a paraded favourite of Riggs for the past couple of years. Something must have happened for him to fall out of favour. Perhaps a new acquisition now tickled the bastard‟s fancy. No matter, to Sarge it looked like the slave wasn‟t long for this world, his face drawn, body emaciated. He coughed, looking up to Hayden with a distant stare. His angel must have known him. Perhaps he was the human he had used as his foundation before he was freed. Perhaps he was another shifter. He did have a name, after all. Sarge turned to Riggs. “You‟re a disgusting, filthy…motherfucking—ah, hell, I haven‟t even got the words for you, you‟re that much of a sick 81

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fuck.” Riggs smiled. “I knew you‟d be here, Sarge. Oh, and I know about your lovely, too. He‟s a shifter…and I told the Schism to be patient, as much as they insisted otherwise. Seems you‟ve made me a very rich man and I—” Riggs didn‟t to finish his sentence. Sarge decked him. Punching him square onto his flabby jaw and sending the man to the carpet with a dull thud. Unconscious. Unfortunately, the next sound wasn‟t of Riggs fading from existence as he deserved. It was of the apartment door slamming open and the air turning still and cold. Two members of the Schism stood in the foyer.

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Chapter Eighteen AD 3619 — Wotton on Main restaurant, Metro Super Ring

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he evening of their first date, Sarge walked into Wotton on Main, one of the finest restaurants in the Metro Super colony or beyond. The gilded swing doors revealed a place of stunning opulence in an atmosphere of sheer decadence. Perfect for his first official date with his fiancé, especially now he was all done up. Hayden, his arm within his, dressed in his peacock tunic and showing the world the result of a day spent being pampered—as he should be— beamed a smile that couldn‟t have been removed from his lips no matter what. All the other patrons stared, talking behind their hands, as they were led by their waiter across the floor toward a window table. Sarge knew why the other patrons were staring. They would be saying that Hayden was a slave boy and shouldn‟t be in a place like this. He didn‟t give a fuck what they thought. 83

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Hayden was a free man. As free as any of them. “Would sir like to order an alcoholic beverage before eating?” the waiter asked, knocking Sarge from his reverie. “Yeah sure,” Sarge said, sitting Hayden at their table. “Bring us whatever goon juice you think will make my fiancés legs open up easier for me tonight, okay?” He slapped the waiter on his back, offering a wink for good measure. The waiter cleared his throat, the look of distaste etching onto his face. “I will see what I can do, sir.” “You do that.” Sarge sat down. Hayden leaned forward. “You‟re such a beast, my cuddly bear.” Sarge smiled, picking up a leather bound menu. “I know I am, but I saw him checking you out and he deserved it. Hell, I saw everyone in this place checking you out. They‟d all have you in a heartbeat, don‟t you worry about that. Heck, I bet half the men in here would want to take you to the gents and bend you over a urinal before they filled up on all this rich crap on the menu.” He slapped the menu to emphasise his words. He didn‟t even understand what half of the stuff was. What‟s a gratin for fuck‟s sake? Hayden slid his hand over to touch Sarge‟s. “I‟d bend you over the urinal in a heartbeat, too, but not before I licked that hole of yours until you begged me for it.” 84

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Sarge gasped. “Say what? You‟re a pitcher?” “Sure am.” Now it was Hayden‟s turn to smile. “That‟s perfect. I mean, just thinking about that beautiful cock of yours sliding inside my arse is enough to…oh, damn…you‟re just so fucking magnificent. Let‟s go home and share each other on an intimate level. Fuck this rich folk nosh.” “You didn‟t want to do that until we were married, remember?” Hayden said with a gentle chuckle. Sarge found that a turn on. The waiter returned with a bottle, opened it, and poured the contents into two champagne flutes. “Are you ready to order, sir?” Hayden kept his smile and his hold on Sarge. “We were meant to be together, weren‟t we? But I think you‟re right, my care bear. There will be a time for all that soon. Let‟s eat. I‟m starving.” Sarge‟s stomach had butterflies within it, causing his groin to get that stirring feeling. He loved hearing his angel say such words. He also loved the revelation as well. His angel liked to give, and he was willing to receive. Perfect. “We‟ll have whatever is on the chef‟s list…times two.” He didn‟t take his eyes of Hayden, the waiter more an annoyance now. The waiter coughed. “Very good…sir.” Sarge had cleared half his plate of one of the strangest meals he had ever eaten. Not for the fact he couldn‟t identify half of it, but because it cost an absolute fortune. 85

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A voice he recognised said, “Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, Sarge, my old friend.” It was Riggs. Sarge turned to look upon his friend. In his hand he held a leash. On the end of the leather rope was a studded collar fitted snug around his latest slave boy acquisition. “Just taking my fiancé out to dinner. How about you? Got sick of trying to show your slaves where your dick is, hey? Perhaps you should put a bell around it. They might have a clue, then.” Riggs offered a shallow and false laugh. He leaned over and whispered, “If I had managed to purchase your fiancé before things went pear shaped at the markets, it‟d be on the end of this leash right now instead of being dressed up like a cheap harlot and put on display.” Sarge stood up, his napkin falling into his dinner. “He‟s a he, not an it. And so help me, if this wasn‟t a public place and all nice and pretty and respectful, I‟d rip your dick out by its roots and throw it so your slave boy could go play fetch with it. You‟re lucky I know you‟re just trying to get a rise out of me, otherwise I‟d do it. Mark my words.” He poked Riggs hard on the chest, punctuating his words. The man looked rattled, but composed himself. “You know I‟m only having a go, Sarge „ol buddy. Say, why don‟t we all sit together? It‟ll be fun.” Before Sarge could answer, Riggs pulled up a 86

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chair. The decision had already been made. “This is cosy, isn‟t it?” Hayden had a concerned look flash across his face. He asked, “What about your friend? Where‟s he going to sit?” “It‟s not my friend. It sits on the floor like all good slave boys should.” Sarge sat back down. “Easy, angel. My so-called friend here is a pig, ignore him.” “Then why is he your friend?” Sarge gave a crooked smile. One directed at Riggs. “Because he owes me money. And keeping him close is a way to make sure he doesn‟t try and weasel out of it.” Riggs once more laughed like he didn‟t mean it. “You‟ll get your money, don‟t fret. I mean, I only borrowed it a couple of weeks ago. Give me a chance.” “I have,” Sarge growled. Hayden held his hand once more. An action that ebbed away his building anger. Anger that had risen up like a poisonous tide ever since Riggs sat down and made himself at home. The fucking bastard. The waiter returned. “I see you have other company, sir.” Again, before Sarge could answer, Riggs said, “I will have the lobster. Oh, and can you get a bowl of dog chow or something for my slave. It has pleased me today so it has my permission to 87

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eat.” Sarge could see Hayden‟s visible shock by how Riggs talked to his slave, especially given the current company. “You‟re a cunt, Riggs,” Sarge spat, forking the remnants of his dinner into his mouth once he plucked the napkin off his plate. Riggs smiled, one that looked more like sneer on his fat, ugly lips. “I will never forget what you did today, Sarge…old friend.” Hayden stood up. “If you will excuse me, but I‟ve got to go to the bathroom. The atmosphere in here has turned sour all of a sudden.” Sarge watched Hayden walk away. When he was certain his angel was out of earshot, he turned to Riggs and said, “Remember that I‟ll kill you with my bare hands one day.” Riggs got up as well, pulling on the leash. The slave boy on the other end was almost knocked onto his backside from the force. He didn‟t murmur. He dared not. Such insolence would cost him his meal, if he knew how Riggs‟s mind worked. And he did. “Well, in that case, and seeing as we‟re playing honesty, let it be known that you won‟t get the money, ever. Because I know you, Sarge. When you do get it in those meaty hands of yours, that‟s when you‟ll do as you‟ve said. Call it whatever you like, but to me, it‟s my insurance policy.” “You do know me.” Sarge grinned, his anger subsiding. “Now get the fuck out of my sight 88

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before I decide I don‟t need the thousand credits or the money for the food you just gulped down.”

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Chapter Nineteen AD 3621 — Rigg’s apartment, Metro Super Ring

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Fucking Riggs fucking set us up,” Sarge bellowed, spitting on the man lying at his feet for good measure and to emphasis feelings. He turned. Hayden was comforting the slave boys, undoing their chains and harnesses, seemingly unaware of the presence of the Schism. Had he not seen them? Or was Hayden so concerned with others he didn‟t care about their presence? Sarge had a hunch it was the later. Hayden made a sort of calling sound as he untied the slave boys. Sarge couldn‟t quite put his finger on the noise, but to him it sounded like a bird was cooing to its young while in their nest. Comforting them. Reassuring them. Sarge‟s attention was quickly drawn back to the Schism The Schism hadn‟t moved. Around them the air seemed to displace, like they weren‟t there and they were there all at the 90

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same time. A shimmer effect surrounded them, made them seem even more threatening than they already were. In that moment, Riggs stirred. Sarge‟s attention was again diverted. But this time, he couldn‟t think of anyone better to take his anger out on. He grabbed Riggs, pulling him up to his feet by the scruff of his neck. “I‟m going to see to it you don‟t enjoy the fortune you acquired for setting us up,” he said between his teeth, and in a tone which would have only been heard by Riggs. Riggs offered no reply. His face had drained white. His eyes wide. He knew, just as well as Sarge did, that these next few moments would determine his fate, for bad or worse. Sarge drew back his hand, balling his fist tight. “I‟m so going to enjoy punching the living shit out of you, you fucker.” Riggs audibly swallowed, closing his eyelids tight. When Sarge was about to strike, use all his energy, all his strength to make sure Riggs would have to eat through a straw for the rest of his life, and via his arsehole, too, Hayden grabbed his arm. Sarge looked upon his angel, deep into his beautiful eyes. “What the?” “Don‟t stoop to his level, my care bear. Forget him. The Schism will deal with him in their own way.” Sarge was taken aback. “How you figure that 91

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out?” All around him, the slave boys ran. Most disappeared through a door which led away from the Schism. Was there a back exit to Riggs‟ apartment? Sarge didn‟t have time to contemplate such matters. Hayden disrobed, slipping off his gauze tunic, exposing himself in all his wonderful glory. The Schism entered the house proper. “Watch and learn.” If Sarge wasn‟t holding onto Riggs, suspending the man a good foot from the floor, he would have sworn what happened next was all a dream. Hayden began to transform. But he didn‟t change in a way he would have imagined a shifter to change. No morphing, seamlessly melding from one form to another. No. His angel, in a dazzling display, grew feathers from his pores, a beak from his nose, a tail from the end of his spine, claws from fingernails, wings from arms, and a crest from the hair on his head. He transformed in a way which looked quite brutal, quite painful, and complete with gasping for air and shudders and spasms from muscles which had to re-form to their new existence. He transformed into a peacock. A magnificent, beautiful, proud, peacock, all plumage and grace and presence. Sarge gasped, dropping Riggs. The man hit the floor with a dull thud, scurrying on his hands and knees away from them both. Hayden was now iridescent blues and greens 92

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with silver overtones to the majestic feathers which covered him. He opened up his display, the tail forming a huge crest with glowing silver eyes on the ends of each feather. He let out a caw. One which pierced the air, made Sarge cover his ears. To him, such a thing was like a scream, a deafening scream made by a being who wanted to protect those he loved. The Schism came closer, moving the air around them in such a way it didn‟t look like they moved at all, rather changed the environment to let them be where they wanted to be. Again Sarge gasped. Again Sarge, for the second time in as many moments, became confused by what happened next. Hayden‟s feathers, the plumage of his tail, glowed so intense, the light seemed to have substance, seemed to have an effect of the Schism. They backed away, retreated back to the porch of Riggs‟s apartment when the light kissed their flesh. It was like Hayden had all of a sudden become a magnet, once which repelled the Schism. Then it clicked. Perhaps Hayden did use some sort of magnetic force. The Schism were affected by magnetism, after all. “That‟s fucking awesome, my angel,” Sarge screamed, moving so he could come to hold his lover in his peacock form. But Hayden wasn‟t finished. The light he transmitted with the magnetic energy intensified. 93

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Sarge had to shield his eyes. “Move away, my care bear. I don‟t want the iron in your blood to be displaced.” Sarge didn‟t hesitate. He backed away. In that moment, Hayden went to the Schism, keeping his tail feathers up, showing his full display while the energy he transmitted grew more and more intense. He ruffled the plumage, making the scariest noise Sarge had ever heard in his life, like the very rattle of death had been shaken. The room was devoid of any of Riggs‟s slaves. Even Riggs had crawled away into some hole somewhere, Sarge would bet. There were only two ways out of the lounge room as far as he could see. The back door all the slaves had run out through and the door which was blocked by the presence of the Schism. Sarge was about to come around, get behind his Hayden, to back him up if he needed it, when a wave of energy struck him. Like he had been punched in the balls, winded and doubled over, he gasped for air. “What the fuck was that?” he growled. “The Schism are fighting back. They have become accustomed to the strength of the magnetic field I am generating.” For a moment Sarge did nothing. He couldn‟t. The air around his seemed to be against him as the Schism retaliated, as they changed the very atomic 94

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makeup of the space he happened to be standing within. “You can‟t adjust your field strength like a magno-welder can?” Sarge barked out, not as an order, far from it. But because all he could manage was such a tone, one which took the remaining strength within him to speak. Everything went fuzzy. The room spun. Sarge was determined to keep a hold on the conscious world, but knew, deep down he was fighting a losing battle. If he got too close to Hayden, the magnetic field he generated would scramble him from the inside. If he stayed here, inside the apartment, he would be scrambled from the outside, affected beyond repair by the matter manipulation the Schism employed to dispense with those they needed to get rid of. “No!” Hayden yelled. Sarge didn‟t know if his word was in reply to his previous question or whether he knew he was being defeated by the two Schism who were once again coming into the apartment proper. The air around them shimmered like an angry storm as dark energy oozed into existence, called from the deep, secret places of the universe, to do their bidding. Sarge had to grab hold of something. His knees gave way underneath him. Hayden seemed to shimmer, but not because of something he did himself. If looked to Sarge like the dark energy 95

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was now encompassing his angel, closing in on him, constricting him. “No,” Sarge screamed at the top of his lungs, emulating his lover‟s last word. But the meaning was something different. He didn‟t want his Hayden to be taken, destroyed by the Schism‟s narrow-minded agenda. “I can‟t hold them back much longer.” Dark matter came into existence, lubricated by the dark energy. The Schism chanted, swaying back and forth while they commanded the forces they had at their disposal. Hayden was surrounded by a cage, which, for all intents and purposes, looked like black clay, only less malleable. Sarge screamed again, this time unable to form any coherent words due to the constriction he felt, the way the air he breathed seemed to be so thick it was like he was underwater, unable to open his mouth wide enough to get enough oxygen into his bloodstream. He gaped. He sweated. He collapsed. “Nooooooo,” he garbled again. Sarge looked up, eyes stinging and watery, to see the Schism take his angel away from him. The clay cage made of dark matter making for an easy pick up. Within a blink of an eye, they were gone. Sarge could breathe the sweet air again. But the taste to him, even though it was wonderful to fill his lungs again, was soured. He had lost Hayden. 96

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In that moment, as he rose up, the strength returning to him with every beat of his heart, with every passing second, he had an idea. Something he admitted was quite rare for him. Then again, this was a rare incident. Never before had he lost his soul mate. Never before had he thought he‟d ever put his own life, his own wellbeing before another. “I‟m going to come and get you, my angel. Then I‟m going to break some Schism‟s heads. Them I‟m going to break them again, so help me God. I‟m coming, baby.” There was only one place he had to go as far as he was concerned. Once place where he would be able to locate where his angel was right now…if he hadn‟t been killed already that is. The space amplifier he had been constructing for the past few months. That was the only way to locate a shifter. “But before I do that, there‟s just one thing I need.” He looked around the apartment. On one wall there was a safe. He smiled. “Actually, there‟s two things I need, then I‟m done here.” Sarge ran out of the apartment.

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Chapter Twenty AD 3619 — Wotton on Main restaurant, Metro Super Ring

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arge left the table, realising Hayden had been gone a while. More than what he would consider an appropriate time for someone to be in the bathroom, anyway, even his angel. When he got into the washroom part of the swanky toilet of this place, there was his lover, slumped over the sink, shoulders heaving in the unmistakable way. He was crying. “Hey, what‟s the matter, angel cake?” But Sarge‟s voice diminished. The tap was running, the sink stained with all the beautiful colours he had been done up in, swirling like a rainbow river down the drain. If Sarge wasn‟t mistaken, he‟d swear Hayden had been washing off his makeup. All the hours of effort, all the excitement of being done up to look so handsome, being washed down the drain in a matter of moments. 98

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Hayden turned to him. His face had streaks of colour all down it, flowing with the trails of his tears. His eyes bloodshot. “I‟m not a cheap harlot. I‟m not.” “Who the fuck said…oh, yeah, Riggs said that, didn‟t he?” Sarge embraced his angel, bringing him close into his chest. “Don‟t listen to that jerk. I think you‟re beautiful and that‟s all that should matter. Right?” “But he thinks that I am. Who‟s to say everyone else won‟t feel the same way, too, as soon as they see me.” “Listen to me and listen to me good.” Sarge placed his hands onto Hayden‟s cheeks, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Riggs is a low life. The scum of Ardross Major and lower than trash as far as I‟m concerned. No one worth their salt will be interested in what a fucking weasel like him thinks. I mean look at him. He looks like an anal sphincter after a good hard hammering by all the construction fleet on all of the sites of the colony on pay week, no less. Heck, he‟s about as handsome as something I passed yesterday. The only difference is that he‟s got a name. How the fuck can he judge you?” Hayden offered a slight nod. He brought his arm around Sarge, letting all of his emotions go, crying harder. Between his sobs, as his shoulders heaved with more purpose, and he got those emotional hiccups everyone got when they were 99

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swept away by the moment, he added, “That poor slave. He won‟t last long, will he?” Sarge swallowed hard. “Not in Riggs‟ care, he won‟t.” There wasn‟t anything else he could say. All he could do was be present for his fiancé. All he could do was comfort him and thank his lucky stars he had saved him from a fate worse than death. “I want us to get married as soon as possible, my care bear. I don‟t want to wait.” “How soon?” “Tomorrow.” Hayden came away from their embrace, his face a mess. But this time there was a smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes. There was happiness, which relieved Sarge. “I don‟t want a fancy ceremony or stuff like that. I just want to declare my love for you…then show you my love in a physical way until we are taken beyond the stars into the never-endin‟ swirl of all time and space.” Sarge was taken aback for a moment. “So you want to fuck me?” Hayden stood on his tip-toes, coming to plant a warm, tear-soaked kiss onto his lips. “If you like.” Sarge tingled from his fiancé‟s touch. “Damn fucking straight I want you. Been thinking about your damn fine cock sunk into me since we got eye contact.” “I can do that for you now, if you wish.” Sarge pulled Hayden away. “Not until we‟re 100

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married, angel cake. I ain‟t getting anything on with you unless you are a true free soul. Don‟t want that on my conscious.” Hayden came up again. No more words needed to be spoken. They kissed again. This time, open mouthed, wet, sensual, and loving. One filled with giddy swirls of meaningless thought and pangs of delight sweeping up to consume every sinew of his body. Sarge couldn‟t help but get hard, his cock throbbing, balls tingling, as Hayden rolled his tongue, danced with his own, in his mouth. Groans of delight came from the both of them. They held each other tight, running hands over backs, down to buttocks, enjoying each other‟s touch. The closeness of his fiancé was something he never wanted to have leave him. In that moment, Sarge had an idea. He reluctantly parted. “I don‟t want us to wait any longer.” Hayden didn‟t look surprised. “We should get married right away. Once I have gotten all cleaned up, that is.” “You look beautiful as you are.” Sarge couldn‟t help but say such a thing. Sure, Hayden‟s face was streaked with makeup and his eyes were bloodshot from crying, but beyond those superficial things, he was indeed gorgeous, and the most perfect man he had ever laid his eyes upon, no doubt about it. Hayden snorted, pulling himself away from 101

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Sarge. “You‟re jokin‟ with me, aren‟t you?” He opened his arms out wide, inviting Sarge to inspect him, look at the makeup stained outfit which clung wet to him. He let out a laugh, then added, “But I‟ve ruined this tunic, haven‟t I? I mean, I‟ve got nothin‟ in the world to wear to get married in, you know. I‟m goin‟ to need something special to celebrate my freedom, one I am going to share with you.” “Now why would I joke about something like that? I‟m not a fucktard like Riggs, you know.” Sarge embraced Hayden, holding him tight, pecking sweet kisses on his forehead and cheeks. “And yes, you can get yourself all dolled up again, my angel. I know you‟ll enjoy hitting the fashion shops and getting yourself all pampered like before.” Hayden let out a chuckle again, and if Sarge didn‟t know any better, he‟d swear the man blushed. The next words out of his mouth confirmed his observation. “Can I get some pretty lace panties…you know, wear them underneath a silk front-less suit or somethin‟ like that?” Sarge licked his lips. “Um…yeah…yeah, you can wear whatever you want….my angel.” But his mind wandered to the image of his angel in panties…silk lace panties no less. His cock stirred into an uncomfortable semi-hardness, confirming his erotic thoughts and what he would like to do to get Hayden out of his panties once the wedding 102

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was over. Without hesitation, he grabbed Hayden by his hand and pulled him out of the bathroom, making sure he fixed the bill before hailing a ring taxi. When he had clambered on board, making sure Hayden was comfortable, he barked, “The best lingerie shop in the colony, pronto.” Sarge considered his words for a moment. “Actually, take us to a wedding outfitters, too. Preferably one with lingerie in it as well. Clear?” The computer chimed. “Please insert twenty outer rim credits.” When Sarge had done so, they were whisked with best speed for a ring taxi into the shopping and fashion district. They passed the place where he had bought Hayden his previous garment, heading into the even more prestigious cloth strip, a street simply called, The Drive. A place which never closed down and was abuzz with all sorts of people dressed in the most bizarre things Sarge had ever seen. From plastic swirly garments to gauze which glowed in the dark. Some were buying, leaving shops with bundles and carry bags, but most were simply showing off. Sarge couldn‟t wait to see Hayden in his wedding gear…then rip it all off so he could suck on his wedding tackle. Such thoughts made him smile while he sat, holding his angel‟s hand. Within a blink of an eye, the ring taxi stopped in front of a place which read Xanadu’s. 103

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Hayden clapped his hands, barging past Sarge and opening the door. Sarge had no choice but to follow, having to run to catch him up. What confronted him when he passed through the doorway to the shop was something needing to be seen to be believed. The place was massive. It was filled with everything one could ever imagine they needed for a wedding and then some. As soon as Sarge was in the threshold of the shop proper, an assistant made himself known. He was an attractive young man, all tall and dark haired and wearing something similar to Hayden‟s tunic. Sarge could see his cock as plain as if he were naked. He also noted his ample size. The assistant would certainly make someone happy…and probably why he was hired in the first place. Small dicked blokes were never usually employed in fashion shops. Sarge‟s gaze wandered back to the young man‟s face. The assistant asked, “I take it you‟re looking for something for your fiancé to wear at your wedding? Is that him over there?” He pointed to Hayden. At that moment, Sarge realised Hayden had found the lingerie section. The men‟s lingerie section to be precise. There was a huge muscle bound mannequin wearing panties and suspenders on display above the rack Hayden was browsing. Sarge never imagined in a thousand years that men could wear such things. Before he 104

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could answer, because he was sure his mouth was moving but no words were eventuating, the assistant added, “Men‟s lingerie is an ever growing market. I mean, why should men be left out when it comes to wearing something very sexy and very alluring, hmm? Take the panty range, they are now made a bit roomier in the front, especially for the well-endowed man like your fiancé over there.” “I see.” Sarge liked this assistant. He didn‟t come across as a pompous ass like the last salesman. Plus he paid compliments when appropriate. The assistant grabbed Sarge by his arm, gentle but forceful enough to let him know he wanted him to go somewhere without seeming rude. They were at the men‟s panty racks before Sarge could add another thought to his mind. “Yes. I think your man will look stunning in our Hummar Quintor range. Very popular and very revealing, but not in such a way it looks cheap. Let me show you what I mean.” The assistant pulled out a bright, white panty, one which looked tiny and with a swirl pattern of leaves and feathers around the back part, leaving the front free of any design. The pattern-less part was like the same gauze Hayden was wearing now. In other words, revealing the best parts of a man yet holding him in at the same time. Sarge was warming to the idea of Hayden 105

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wearing panties more and more. Plus his cock hardened when the assistant handed Hayden the panties, and without batting an eyelid, his angel pulled off his tunic and slipped them on, right there and then and without a care. Hayden turned on the spot. He looked fucking amazing in panties. His cock pressed against the lace, so sexy, so alluring, Sarge wanted nothing more than to take his man in his arms and have him make love to him all night long. Seeing Hayden‟s backside in lace, the design complimenting and enhancing his buttocks, was another plus. “Do you like this on me?” Hayden asked. Again, Sarge seemed to be unable to speak. He nodded. All he could manage. The assistant smiled, gesturing toward the back of the shop. “I think you can show your man just how fantastic he looks in one of our more private dressing rooms over there.” Hayden frowned. “But I want a front-less suit to go with this as well. I can‟t just get married in panties, you know.” The assistant‟s smile widened. Sarge knew why. This wasn‟t going to be cheap. He bet the thin strap of lace hugging Hayden‟s private parts would cost more than the whole outfit he bought him earlier. “You‟ll want suspenders, too.” “Ooh, yes, suspenders. I‟d love those.” The assistant patted Sarge on his back, before 106

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shoving a few more hangers of panties into his hands, all of which had design labels on them and just as skimpy as what Hayden currently wore which barely covered his genitals. “I tell you what, you take your man over to the dressing rooms, try a few things on and have a good look…if you know what I mean…and I‟ll bring a few more things over. We‟ll have him looking like the groom of your dreams in no time. Okay? Oh, and don‟t worry about soiling anything, we offer an instant and complete sanitary dry cleaning service for a modest additional fee.” Before Sarge could answer, before he could even inquire how much all this would cost, Hayden said, “That sounds fantastic. C‟mon, my care bear, let me twirl some more for you. I‟m feelin‟ so sexy right now.” Sarge was pulled toward the dressing rooms, before he could admire the growing bulge in his angel‟s new panties. The room was a luxurious private affair filled with sumptuous furnishings and a deep red leather day bed. He had no clue what the day bed would be used for in a change room until Hayden lay down, spreading himself out in a classic bedroom pose which meant only one thing. He wanted some extra attention. He made sure Sarge got an eyeful of what he was wearing and the full blown erection it no longer hid. “Do you like these panties or do you want me 107

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to put on one of the others?” Hayden said, his voice husky, a slight growl. Sarge‟s lips quivered. He dropped the hangers of lace goods and found himself on the day bed next to his angel before he realised what the hell had possessed him. Hayden grabbed him, pulling him down, lavishing kisses all over him. The sound of leather creaking, of Hayden groaning with delight, of their kisses, all made Sarge as hard as he had ever been. When parted from their kissing, Hayden added. “I think you need to show me how much you like me in my new panties.” Sarge‟s hands had already found their way to Hayden‟s bulging cock. The lace barely contained him, and feeling him through the material was damn fucking sexy. His foreskin had retracted and the sight of his red engorged head through the lace, pressed tight against the material, looked divine. Damn fucking divine. “Oh fuck,” was all Sarge could manage as he ran his fingers down the length of his lover‟s cock, making sure to pay attention to his balls, which were perfectly cradled in the ample-room-at-the-front garment he was adorned with. Hayden groaned some more but unzipped Sarge‟s trousers. Seconds later, his cock was free from its cloth prison. Sarge gasped, the breath knocked from him, when Hayden came down on him, his warm 108

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sensuous lips kissing his sensitive skin. More groans. More enjoyment. Sarge didn‟t know what hit him. It was like a blast from a magno-welder on high setting, especially when Hayden retracted his foreskin and licked his cock head like it was something to be savoured, enjoyed. Sarge shuddered when his angel sucked on his hardness in earnest, his stomach turning in the most delicious way. The sensation was electric and Hayden took him in all the way to the root of him, his nose buried deep in his thick, black pubes. He even looked up while he worked, the sight of his azure eyes, glistening with the enjoyment he must have felt while he sucked him off, was something Sarge never wanted to end. Fuck, Hayden was good. Then again, he supposed the man had been trained for such things, being an ex-slave and all. Sure enough, Sarge didn‟t last long. He blew his load and Hayden took it all. Gulping, slurping and moaning with delight while he pumped more and more of his sperm into his mouth. Then, when spent and flaccid, because his angel didn‟t let go until he was soft and completely licked clean, he came so he could return the favour. But Hayden had blown his load. The lace did nothing to stop the flow of cum oozing out of his cock, a cock which was so hard he was sure the material would split at any moment. In fact, seeing the white sticky fluid stain the lace, seep from 109

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every hole in the material, was hot. In that moment, when Sarge began to run his tongue over the lace, licking up Hayden‟s cum, tasting his sweetness and salt, his tongue numbing, the assistant entered the dressing room.

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Chapter Twenty-two AD 3621 — Orbital construction site, Metro Super Ring

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ith the thousand outer rim credits safe in his pocket, Sarge hailed for a ring taxi. Determination struck him. Determination he knew would get him into trouble, see to it he would probably lose his job, the life he knew and all his friends. But he didn‟t care. He needed his angel back. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. He directed the taxi to Trevor‟s apartment. He would either have his bosses blessing for what he was about to do, or he wouldn‟t. Either way, he was going to turn on the amplifier and locate his angel…if he wasn‟t already dead, that is. Sarge swallowed hard. He couldn‟t think like that. What hope would there be if he did? While there was a chance, no matter how slim, of his Hayden being alive, then he would risk anything. Everything. Nothing in his life before he had met his angel had meant so much to him. In fact, what 111

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use was a life without his soul mate? Before he could contemplate his thoughts any longer, the ring taxi stopped, the computer chiming he had reached his destination. Trevor‟s building loomed in the darkness, lit by lights both beautiful and dazzling. Now was the time to put his plan into place. He scrambled out of the vehicle, charging up to the foyer and stabbing the elevator buttons when inside the building proper, his impatience clear, even to himself. He ignored the ramblings of the concierge, a weedy man who knew without doubt he‟d better buzz off when Sarge glared at him. Besides, it wasn‟t like Sarge wasn‟t known. He had been to his boss‟s place plenty of times. When he finally got to Trevor‟s apartment, he rang the bell, again pressing the button with more force than was necessary. For what seemed an eternity, and far too long in Sarge‟s opinion, there was no answer. Yes, the time was late, but still, someone should have answered the door by now. Sarge cursed under his breath. He was about to test the door handle, when he heard a click. A weary looking Margaret answered the door, her eyes deep set, her expression gaunt. “You‟re too late, Sarge. Trevor‟s been taken to the amplifier by those Schism folk. They just took him, without explanation or word…” Sarge didn‟t get to hear the rest of her words. He charged for the elevator. Before he knew it he 112

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was back down at street level, hailing for a ring taxi. Everything was a blur in his mind, his movements, his actions, all automatic. He could hear his heart beat loud in his ears, his concern clear. With every passing moment, Hayden‟s life was in greater danger. He knew it. He remembered the thought he had back at Rigg‟s apartment. When the ring taxi pulled up, he ordered it to take him home. Yes, a diversion wasn‟t exactly what he desired right now, but he had to be prepared. Even he knew he couldn‟t tackle the Schism with his bare hands, to do so would be foolish. He needed a weapon, one which would have some chance against a being which commanded dark matter. Normal guns wouldn‟t work. That had been proven in the past when the Schism first came to Ardross Major, claiming they had come to cleanse the world of the shifter threat. Sarge needed his magno-welder. He had seen how Hayden had used some sort of magnetic energy when he shifted into a peacock, the plumage creating the effect. But from experience, and from working with magnetism all his life, he could see the frequency, the modulation his angel created was static. More for a surprise defence mechanism than an actual attack, he guessed. A magno-welder, now that was a different story. The tool was bad arse, a mother fucking machine of complete awesomeness, especially because it could change magnetic modulation without 113

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bother, without so much as a thought from the operator. To Sarge the tool was more like an extension of himself. A press of a finger here and a press of a finger there along the control trigger was all that was needed to get the tool to do his bidding. He smiled. Not only had he taken back the outer rim credits that bastard Riggs had owed him, he now had something he could use against the Schism to get his angel back. He couldn‟t help himself. Sarge began to chuckle. “You have reached your destination,” the ring taxi computer chimed. “Wait here. I‟ll be back in a second.” “The meter will remain running, sir.” Sarge continued to hold his grin. “Fine with me. I‟m not paying.” No less than ten minutes was all he required to get up to his apartment, grab his magno-welder and run back down to where the ring taxi was waiting. When he was back inside the vehicle, he added, “Take me to the orbital construction‟s shuttle dock, pronto.” “That will be an additional thirty outer rim credits.” Sarge shoved more than the required credits into the payment slot. “Now get a move on.” “You have paid more than the suggested fare. Are you leaving a tip for good service or because you have difficulty understanding the monetary 114

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system here on the colonies?” Sarge felt his blood boil. His cheeks flushed and his stomach knotted. “A tip? A tip, you damn fucking useless, mother fucker of a machine…why you. Now get going before I—” He had to stop himself. Arguing with a ring taxi computer wasn‟t only unproductive, it would alert the authorities he was being a difficult customer. He didn‟t fancy any attention from the police, not now. Not when his angel‟s life was on the line. “Please consider it a tip,” he added, the words strained between his teeth, but sounding as pleasant as he could muster considering the circumstances. “Very good, sir.” While he stewed in his thoughts and with his anger, concern and impatience welling up even more inside him, the docks came into view. He charged out of the ring taxi, but not before grabbing his magno-welder. The door slammed, emphasising his emotional state. He could hear the computer say something in its annoying voice, probably telling him to have a nice day or some shit like that. Sarge was ready. Ready for anything. He approached a shuttle, one he knew would take him to the amplifier as it was the one he had always taken to the construction site. Trouble was, the site was closed and there were two guards to make sure no one boarded outside of work hours. These two men, men who were only doing their 115

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jobs, were between him and his goal. He didn‟t want to hurt anyone, but would do whatever it took to get to the amplifier. When he neared them, one said, “Hey Sarge, what‟s going on?” Sarge didn‟t want small talk. He didn‟t want any talk for that matter. Now was the time for action. “Nothing. I just need to get up to the amplifier.” The guard shock his head, reaching down to touch the hilt of his weapon. “Now you know the rules, Sarge. No access outside—” “I don‟t give a fuck about the rules, George. I need to get up there. Hayden has been taken by the Schism.” There was a moment of silence, one far too long and far too uncomfortable for Sarge to withstand. The guards looked at each other. If he had to, he‟d knock them into next week to get onto the shuttle. Heck, he‟d step over their bodies and pilot the thing himself without so much as a second thought if he had to. His stomach churned. His anger and concern rose up even more. A foul taste soaked his mouth, one which would spur him into doing something he would undoubtedly regret but was needed if he didn‟t get his own way in the next couple of seconds. He was about to lurch forward, knock them out with the weight of the magno-welder, when George said in a slow drawl, “That lovely husband 116

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of yours was kidnapped?” Sarge gritted his teeth. “Yeah.” The other guard said, “But if he was taken by the Schism…that means he‟s a shifter, doesn‟t it?” Sarge had lost his patience. “Look, are you going to let me pass or not? Just want to warm you I may have to rip you both new arseholes, if you don‟t. You got me?” George seemed to relax, taking his hand off his gun. “Take it easy, Sarge. We‟ll let you go up there. You‟re a mate after all, and I have to say, being at your wedding was all the proof I needed to know without doubt you love that man of yours with everything you have inside you. You‟re a good bloke, Sarge. A real good bloke. But I gotta tell you, you‟ll owe me big time after this, you hear. Our generosity and the risk of our jobs won‟t come for free, you know.” Sarge knew in that instant George wasn‟t talking about money. The man had that glint in his eyes all blokes got when their cocks stirred their thoughts toward the erotic. He‟d bet the man had a raging boner. “Sure, I‟ll give you a good hard blow job when I get back, George. Suck you dry until you fucking beg me to stop if need be. You, too, Walter. Fuck, I don‟t care what I have to do, so long as I get my Hayden back. Now get the fuck in the shuttle and fire her up. Every moment wasted is a moment he could slip away from me.” The guard named Walter said, “Why wait for 117

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the favour? I‟ll take that blow job now, Sarge. Seeing you on your knees and with your lips around my cock would be something, wouldn‟t it? I mean, it‟ll take a good ten minutes or so to get to the amplifier. Might as well take advantage, hey? The wife doesn‟t put out so much anymore. A bloke can get all clogged up with no relief, as you might well have understood before you married that god handsome man like you did and you got cock on tap.” He finished his words with a smirk, one which annoyed him. Sarge growled, his distaste clear for them wanting to cash in so quick, to take advantage of his predicament. The bastards. Sure, they were friends, but as he well knew, every man was out for himself, especially here on the rim of the colony. Sex was just as good as cash. Besides, he did offer the sexual favour as a reward for them letting him go to the amplifier outside working hours in the first place. He only had himself to blame. Damn it. He had to accept his fate. Ten minutes of sucking cock was a small price to pay to rescue his Hayden. Fuck, he‟d even swallow their love juices if such a thing was needed to ensure his angel‟s safety. He had to see the turn of events for what they were. An opportunity. If violence was needed, then so be it. If other methods were required, then that was fine, too. Sure, he had expected to be fighting his way through the obstacles he knew he 118

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would encounter, so in the grand scheme of things, this wasn‟t such a bad thing. He just hoped his angel would forgive him. When inside the shuttle, and with George setting the controls to auto after the uneventful take-off, he mentally prepared himself for what was to follow. George and Walter came so they were standing on either side of him. “Ready?” George said with a guttural moan, pushing down on Sarge‟s shoulder to make sure he understood that he was going to have to pay up on his favour by getting onto his knees pronto. Both of them smiled. Sarge nodded. When he was on his knees, both men unzipped their pants, letting them fall to their ankles. Seconds later, both of their cocks were freed from their underwear. Sarge had to admit, they were both well-endowed men. Their huge cocks bulging, veins engorged, foreskins retracted, and pre-cum oozing out of their piss slits like morning dew. They were certainly ready. They also kissed each other. Seemed being a guard of a shuttle docking bay in the late hours of the night got boring enough to develop a working relationship. How interesting. “You blokes fucking each other then?” Sarge barked. There was no answer. Aside from the fact they didn‟t part their kiss, the shuttle‟s holding room 119

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filled with the sound of their lips making contact and their moans of approval while they relished each other, no answer was needed. They were indeed lovers. Sarge shrugged his shoulders. He grabbed George‟s cock, feeling its heat, its hardness. “This is for you, my angel.” With those words he took the man‟s length into his mouth, as far as he could take it. He also sucked as hard and as fast as he had ever sucked cock in his life. With Hayden, it was all about touch, control, massaging him to get him excited, but to make sure he didn‟t climax too soon. Not so now. For this moment, it was all about getting on with it and as soon as possible. George writhed with pleasure, his groans growing louder and louder. The man was in heaven, taken there by Sarge‟s attention on his cock and Walter‟s kisses and gentle touches over his body. Sarge came off George. His cock, thick and hard, saturated in saliva, glistened in the artificial light. The man tasted different to his angel, a lot more bitter than what Sarge liked. With Hayden there was a sweetness. Not so with him. Still, the blow job would be over soon. He could see George wouldn‟t last much longer. He took Walter‟s cock into his mouth. Again, the taste was different. More salty. Didn‟t these men eat enough fruit? But again, Sarge placed such thoughts to the back of his mind, 120

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concentrating on making sure he got him off and as quick as possible. Walter and George began to gasp, breath heavier, unable to hold their kisses, especially when Sarge took turns sucking them off. He sucked as hard and with as much force as he could muster, making sure he gave each of them the same attention. He was sure he‟d suck their lungs through their piss slits, he was using so much suction. Still, both of them seemed to be enjoying his action. They were both dripping wet with precum and saliva, grabbing onto Sarge‟s head while he worked, groaning louder and louder, begging him for more and talking up how fantastic he was. “Oh fuck, that Hayden has taught you to suck like a dirty bitch,” Walter said, gasping for air while Sarge latched onto his cock for the fifth time in as many minutes. Sarge didn‟t reply. He just wanted to get on with things. One thing he noticed during the whole ordeal. His cock didn‟t stir…not even once. He relished the realisation. Proof in his mind that Hayden was the only man for him, for now and forever. He just hoped with all his heart and soul that his man was all right. Heads would roll if he wasn‟t. Heads would fucking roll. The computer chimed, disturbing Sarge from his reverie, “Arrival at the space amplifier in one minute.” That was the signal for Sarge to step up what he 121

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was doing. He grabbed Walter‟s balls, began to massage them. He did the same to George with his other hand. Then, as fast as he could manage without getting a head spin, he went from one to the other, sucking and slurping on their cocks with so much purpose, so much determination he no longer cared who they belonged to. A short moment later, Walter screamed out, “I‟m gonna fucking blow!” Sarge‟s mouth exploded with the unmistakable tang of ejaculate. Walter did indeed blow his load, a great wad of cum, most of which was shot down Sarge‟s throat. But before Sarge could decide whether to spit or swallow, George made it clear he was ready to pop by making Sarge take him again. Once more, Sarge was filled with cum. George gave him every drop, holding Sarge by his head to make sure he didn‟t get a chance to come away from his throbbing cock while he pumped more and more cum into his mouth. Sarge had no choice but to take the man‟s load, swallow it all down before he choked. When George had given him all he could give, and he began to go flaccid in his mouth, Walter said, “That was worth it, for sure. Damn, Sarge, you suck cock like a Boonta whore before pay day. Damn, you‟re good.” “Now lick up the dribbles and we‟re done,” George demanded. 122

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Sarge could see Walter‟s cock was flaccid, his foreskin rolled back over his head to cover and protect it. The man also had a thread of cum oozing off the tip of his foreskin. “You can clean yourselves up. I kept up my end of the arrangement.” Before either of the guards could protest, the computer interjected, “Shuttle has landed.” The shuttle bay doors hissed open. Sarge grabbed the magno-welder and sprang up to his feet, running with all the effort he could manage toward the exit. Getting out of the shuttle and away from the two guards couldn‟t come soon enough. The thought of his Hayden back in his arms was all he could think about.

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Chapter Twenty-three AD 3619 — Xanadu’s Clothing Boutique, Metro Super Ring

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see the garment meets your approval, sir,” the assistant said, his ever present smile widening as he feasted his gaze on what Sarge and Hayden had done on the store‟s day bed. Sarge bolted upright, cum dribbling off his chin. “Um, yeah. They‟re fine. How much?” He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks grow warm while he stuffed his own dick back into his pants and zipped up. “Ah, a man of business. But I suggest you see your man in the complete outfit before we begin with any finalisation of this transaction, don‟t you?” Hayden sat up, leaning over to kiss his own cum of Sarge‟s face. “I think the salesman is right, my care bear. I want to make sure everything is perfect.” 124

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This time Sarge grunted, not because he had nothing to say, far from it, but because no matter what he said he was certain his words would fall on deaf ears. He was in unfamiliar territory, and his angel had caught the shopping bug. Not a good combination. The assistant offered his hand to Hayden. “Now, let‟s pop off those soiled panties and get them all cleaned up. I‟ve also taken the liberty of having your tunic spruced up, too. A fine man like yourself can‟t go around in makeup stained clothes, now can he?” “I take it we‟ve just bought that underwear,” Sarge said, thinking of nothing else but the price of the stitch of cloth Hayden looked fucking awesome in. “Don‟t think of it as a purchase, think of it as an investment.” The assistant winked. “If you know what I mean.” “I think it‟s the most beautiful thing I‟ve ever worn.” Hayden pulled down the underwear, his cock springing up when no longer bound by the sticky, cum soaked lace. He placed them into a bag the assistant offered him. “Thank you so much for making me feel like the most loved man in all the colonies of Ardross Major, my care bear.” Sarge couldn‟t help but smile. Seeing Hayden so happy—and showing it through his physical affection—was payment enough. Heck, if it all came down to it, he‟d pay any price for whatever 125

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his man wanted. After all, it was only money, a material commodity which really meant nothing to Sarge. What mattered was the growing love he felt for Hayden, and even after being with him for only a day, he knew deep down, right to the pit of his soul, that he wanted to be with him forever. Such a thing couldn‟t be quantified. “You are the most loved man but not in the colonies.” “No?” Hayden‟s face reflected a moment of concern. “No. You are the most loved in all the universe, and that‟s a damn fucking fact.” Hayden‟s eyes glistened, and his smile lit up his face. He embraced Sarge. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I feel like I‟m going to cry. You‟re amazin‟. Simply amazin‟.” The assistant coughed politely into his hand. “Now we have that sorted out, I suggest you try on some outfits to help complete those stunning panties you‟ve bought. There are some here you‟re going to die for.” Sarge sat back in the day bed, the leather creaking loud as he did so. This was going to be a long night. Then again, he could do a lot worse with his time than watching Hayden try on clothes. His cock stirred again. Four hours later, and with well over twothousand outer rim credits added to his colony charge account, Sarge and Hayden left Xanadu’s Clothing Boutique hand in hand. 126

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Sarge hailed for a ring taxi. His angel wore his freshly cleaned tunic, smelling like fruit and flowers. He also carried a bag emblazoned with the Xanadu’s store logo, the smile on his face priceless. The carry bag was filled with matching Hummar Quintor designed garments, an open fronted waist coat with swirls and leaves embroidered into the silk, two matching pairs of panties, one for during the ceremony and one for after, suspenders and slip on shoes to match, and gauze trousers which were even more see-though than the panties, more like a wisp of cloth which covered Hayden‟s legs. There was also a silk bow tie thrown in compliments of the store. Sarge couldn‟t help but think he had paid for the thing anyway. “So…what are you goin‟ to wear to our wedding, my care bear?” Sarge‟s lip curled to form a knowing smile. “Nothing but my smile.” “Oh?” Sarge turned to look his Hayden in the eyes. “I don‟t want to outshine you, my angel. Besides, all of my family have committed to each other in the raw. It‟s a true sign of devotion to strip away everything you have and expose yourself in front of the one you want to spend the rest of your life with.” Hayden squeezed Sarge‟s hand tight. “That‟s so sweet.” 127

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When the ring taxi pulled up to them, Sarge said, “The registry office in the Civilian Trade and Commerce building doesn‟t open until after eight. How about we crash in a hotel until then?” “Do I get to sleep with you?” “Of course. But you don‟t get to fuck the living daylights out of me until we‟re officially a partnership and you‟re a free man. Deal?” Hayden nodded. “Deal. But after, I am so going to make you sore.” “Fuck yeah, I heard that.” Over the course of the next hour or so, and before Sarge hit the hay to rest his weary bones, he called everyone he knew, including his boss, Trevor, to attend the registry office in the morning. All jumped at the chance to be there. He knew they were happy for him now that he had found a man. This day had been a long time coming, and he was glad he saved it for someone special like Hayden. He turned, rubbing his chin, feeling sleep creep up on him. He placed the portable comm device down onto the bedside table and unbuttoned his shirt. Hayden was asleep already. In fact, as soon as he took off his tunic, he flopped naked onto the bed, not bothering to clamber under the bedclothes. That‟s where he stayed. The sound of him breathing filled Sarge with joy. He watched him for ages, studied his chest rise and fall, his eyelids move as he entered REM 128

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sleep, his cock stir between a flaccid and semierect state and his balls move within his sack to help maintain their ideal temperature. He never knew how fascinating it was to study someone while they were sleeping. Sarge smiled, a warm feeling overwhelming him, comforting him while he stared. He had well and truly found his man. Sarge was naked. The registry office was quite sparse, but suitable for what was required of it. It was modern and contained within it enough furniture to perform a no-fuss marriage and freedom ceremony without too much bother. Trevor, Margaret and a few close friends of Sarge sat so they were behind him on what looked like makeshift pews but cushioned. Their faces reflecting the joy he felt within him to perfection. He couldn‟t be happier. Sarge stood so he was facing the clerk who was not only going to marry him to his angel, but give his man his freedom as well. The monies had been paid. The music selected. Rings chosen. Everything was ready to go. All that was missing was Hayden himself. Sarge couldn‟t help but smile. He knew Hayden had been prettying himself up all morning. How he had adorned himself this time, Sarge couldn‟t even hazard a guess. All he knew was his man 129

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had been in the beauty parlour for well over two hours before the office opened. Sarge had spent that time making sure everything was perfect. He had even managed to manscape his pubic hair so he didn‟t look too bushy for the big day. No easy task considering he was all hair and trimming one spot inevitably led to other places having to be paid attention to as well. The wait for Hayden to enter wasn‟t long. The far doors opened. Seconds later, his angel entered. Everyone in the room took in a breath as soon as he had stepped into the registry office proper. To say he was beautiful was an understatement. Even Sarge was taken aback by how amazing he looked, how handsome and sexy his future husband was. All in the room broke out into spontaneous applause. Sarge joined them. He could feel his emotions well up inside him. His eyes misted, consumed by the vision of his angel walking toward him to become his man. Seemed to him Hayden loved the attention. As he should. The man was stunning in his wedding outfit. He had the panties on, the suspenders, the shoes, but he also wore a gauze jacket over it all, one which was see through, but with a white feather pattern inlayed into the material to match his undergarments. Hayden had his nails done and his makeup on, too, as was to be expected. His hair also styled to be tasteful and stunning, just 130

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like him. Everything worked to make his wedding outfit compliment his natural beauty perfectly. Much to Sarge‟s surprise, his angel had bright crystals, clearly visible even behind lace and gauze—white and dazzling and about the size of small buttons—arranged in a feather shape across the skin of his stomach. The quill of the feather led down to his groin, his pubic region shaved clean. In fact, the crystals were adorned along the length of his ample cock, too. Sarge had never seen anything like it in his life. Hayden was more than an angel. He was a god of angels. His beauty far more dazzling than anything he could have ever dreamed of before he had cast his gaze upon him at the Mattock Markets only a couple of days ago. The clerk cleared his throat. All in the room fell silent. Hayden stood beside Sarge, taking his hand into his own. His grip was firm, but his hands were clammy. In that moment Sarge knew his man was as nervous as he was, a far cry from the confidence he exuded. Such a thing only added to his angel‟s appeal. “You look so perfectly handsome, my care bear,” Hayden whispered. “Good enough to spend the rest of your life with?” Hayden smiled, one which reflected his nervous state, yet reassured Sarge. “And to make love to over and over.” 131

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Sarge‟s stomach turned in delight. He couldn‟t wait to get all that finery off his angel once they were married, including the crystals which were stuck to his dick. Heck, he‟d suck them off if need be. “Shall we begin?” the clerk said, gesturing for everyone else in the room to be seated. They sat. A profound silence filled the registry office. A silence broken a short moment later when Sarge replied, “Go for it.” Sarge didn‟t say such a thing out of impatience. Far from it. He said it in the nicest way he could manage considering he just knew his cock would soon be standing to attention, pre-cum dribbling off the end of it for all to see, if the ceremony lasted any longer than he was willing to endure. Which wouldn‟t be long. The clerk nodded. “Excellent. Now, it‟s nice to see such a lovely couple getting together in the traditional way…” The clerk went on, talking about love and commitment and adding a couple of questions into the mix, ones which required an I do at the appropriate moments. Sarge‟s thoughts were on Hayden and Hayden only. He couldn‟t get the man out of his mind. He couldn‟t get the hope of the future he would have with him out of his thoughts, either. Sure, he had fallen in love with a stranger, but even in the short time they had been together he knew Hayden was the one for him. Who else would stick crystals all over their dick, if not for love? 132

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Ten minutes later, and once Sarge and Hayden had signed the paperwork presented to them, the clerk added, “And now it is time for you both to kiss, to seal your commitment to each other to those who are witness.” Sarge didn‟t hesitate. He kissed his man. When he connected to Hayden‟s warm sensual lips, the pressure from his lover not too much, but enough to know the love was returned, Sarge‟s feelings cemented. His mind spun, and he had to admit, he went dizzy for a brief moment. That and the fact his cock stirred. Hayden offered a slight groan. Thankfully, the duration wasn‟t too long even though Hayden had given him a taste of his tongue. Besides, if the kiss lasted any longer, Sarge would have a boner only a good fucking could relive, he was sure. Everyone in the room clapped once more. “With the powers invested in me,” the clerk said, obviously winding up the ceremony as the time had almost elapsed, “and by the municipal laws of both Ardross Major and all her colonies, I pronounce you both life partners and in the care of each other. With that privilege, there comes responsibility, but above all freedom. I wish you all the best in the new life you will have together.” Hayden looked straight into Sarge‟s eyes. “Thank you,” he muttered, his words emotion filled and wonderful. Sarge couldn‟t help himself. He blurted, “Now 133

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take me home and fuck me good and hard, my angel.” Some in the audience let out a chuckle. Sarge didn‟t care. They all knew what was going to happen next anyway. After all, getting married was a licence to fuck, wasn‟t it? Hayden smiled, tears rolling down his cheeks, makeup staining his face. “For all eternity if you desire, my big, beautiful bear.”

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Chapter Twenty-four AD 3621 — Control room of the space amplifier

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arge didn‟t waste any time. He went straight for the control room to the amplifier, the taste of George and Walter‟s cum, all bitter and tangy, still strong in his mouth. He spat, many times. Opening the door to the control room, his attention was diverted straight away by a sound coming from behind one of the computer arrays. Sarge froze. He tightened his grip on his magnowelder. Sure, he knew he would have to face the Schism eventually, but not so soon. Not when he hadn‟t even located his angel, anyway. “Come out and show yourself, you fucker.” There was a moan. In that instant, Sarge knew there wasn‟t a Schism in the room with him, mainly because the masters of dark matter weren‟t known for showing any emotion other than their hatred of shifters. The sound was definitely one of pain. He dashed over to where the sound 135

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emanated. To his surprise, he saw Trevor, bound and gagged, behind the console. After untying him, he asked, “What the fuck happened to you, boss?” Trevor looked bewildered, staggering up to his feet, using Sarge as support. “They‟ve got Hayden.” “I know. That‟s why I‟m here, to fucking find him before those bastards do the unthinkable.” Trevor looked Sarge in his eyes. “You don‟t understand. They‟ve gone. The Schism. They‟ve left Metro Super.” “Yeah, I know that. I saw them take him. No doubt the fuckers are running. They know I‟m on their tail.” The man shook his head. “No. Hayden was the last shifter in the region. The amplifier located all of them and now…now they have what they want, they‟ve slipped away into the eternity of space.” Sarge‟s stomach churned. “What are you saying, boss?” “The Schism have left the system. All of them.” There was a pause in Trevor‟s words while he flicked some switches in front of him. A screen came up, revealing nothing, not even a glitch. “As you can see, there is nothing on the scanner. They‟ve gone beyond the amplifier‟s range, Sarge. Hayden, if he hasn‟t been murdered, is long gone by now.” 136

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“I don‟t give a fuck. I‟ll take a shuttle. Heck, I did the unthinkable to get the ride here, I can do it again.” “A shuttle can‟t keep up with a Schism vehicle. Nothing can.” Sarge clicked his fingers. “Except for another Schism vehicle, right?” Trevor nodded. “I suppose. What are you getting at?” “I know you have an Existence Sphere stashed away somewhere. I‟ve seen it. I bet it was some sort of payment for completing a certain stage of the amplifier, am I right?” Again Trevor nodded, this time determination crossed his facial features. “Let‟s go. Oh, and you do know that an Existence Sphere is a personal armoured vehicle, and there won‟t be much room inside with the both of us, don‟t you?” “I can sit on your lap. Believe me, I‟ve done a lot more than that to hitch a ride lately.” Trevor‟s face flashed confusion. “So long as you know.” “Better grab yourself a magno-welder. Trust me, you‟ll need it. Oh, and can you pay off the last of my debt to that trader at the Mattock Markets. One way or another, I ain‟t coming back.” Trevor offered a slight nod. Good enough for Sarge. Without wasting any more time, they left the control room and headed for the back of his office. In the garage attached to the building, there 137

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was the Existence Sphere, just as Sarge knew it would be. To say it was cramped was an understatement. Both men weren‟t exactly small, and sitting with any sort of comfort in a chair designed for one, wasn‟t easy. Still, Sarge sucked up any pride he had left and plonked himself square on his boss‟s lap. If the lads could see him now they‟d say he was bucking for a raise. He didn‟t care what anyone thought. He just wanted to feel Hayden‟s touch once more. “Can we detect any Schism in this thing?” Trevor swiped his hand over the controls. He pressed a few buttons. “It‟s a long shot, but I‟m going to configure the Sphere‟s homing computer. With any luck, the last Schism ship to leave the solar system was the one with Hayden on it.” “I hope you‟re right.” “So do I,” Trevor said with a wince. “I don‟t fancy spending too much time with you sitting on my lap. My legs have gone dead already.” “Quit your whinging and get us to that ship.” Trevor shifted his weight. “Already done. We‟re here.” “Say what?” “Look, I don‟t claim to understand a dark matter propelled engine, but all I know is what the instruments are telling me. We have arrived and we‟ve been pulled into a docking bay.” Sarge‟s mind went into too many thoughts and all at once 138

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as well. How were they going to explain to the Schism their presence? Especially now they had been detected and brought on board. The game was up before he had a chance to find out if Hayden was alive. Sarge felt sick to his stomach. Before he could utter his concerns, Trevor added, “I‟ll tell the Schism I‟m not happy about the Existence Sphere they gave me and demand a new one, create a diversion for you. In the meantime, you get going. Find that damn sexy man of yours. In mean, I don‟t like your chances, but you might just be able to get Hayden and get out of here without causing too much fuss. If you can keep your head about you, you big lug. Now move. I‟m detecting approaching Schism.” Sarge leant forward and kissed his boss firm on his cheek. “Thanks you big, beautiful bastard.” “Don‟t mention it. Now go!” Moments later, Sarge was clambering out of the Sphere, heading for the nearest cover. A pillar which seemed to help hold up the docking bay of the Schism vehicle he had found himself within. In fact, it wasn‟t a pillar at all, like he first thought. It was an elevator of some sort. He could see lights flashing above, as if a carriage was moving within the structure. What was creepy about being inside a Schism vehicle, aside from the fact the bastards were mother fucking scary, was the design of their ships. The walls, floors and ceilings seemed to 139

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ooze a substance no sane man would want to touch, let alone be near. It was like black tar, thick and sticky. When he touched a panel to try and open a door way so he could get inside the elevator, he noticed the tar was solid, the illusion of being fluid just that. A door opened. Sarge stepped inside. Funnily enough, he could understand the language written on the panels, the numbers represented. Then again, why wouldn‟t the Schism use the language of those they needed to befriend so they could hunt shifters without bother? One floor, about ten levels below read, prisoner level. Sarge stabbed that button. A heart beat later, the door opened again. Whatever could be said about the Schism, they sure knew how to make efficient devices. The elevator was already at the prisoner level. Sarge stepped out. A Schism guard approached as soon as Sarge came into the hallway beyond the elevator. Without hesitation, Sarge blasted the thing with his magno-welder. The sight was amazing. In a nano second, the dark matter which bound the being to this existence disintegrated. The guard no more than a waft of air to cool Sarge‟s worried brow. “That‟s for taking my angel away from me, you fuck stain.” Sarge re-calibrated the magno-welder. 140

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He didn‟t want to risk blasting the gun‟s magnetic force on the same setting more than once. The Schism weren‟t stupid. They could adjust to such a thing as easily as he could fart, he was sure. The magno-welder had twelve magnetic strength settings. In Sarge‟s mind, such a thing meant he had eleven shots before he resorted to tactics he knew would prove fruitless. Fighting a dark matter being hand to hand wouldn‟t go well for him. How did someone punch the shit out of the Schism anyway? He just hoped he‟d find Hayden before he used up half of those chances. Then again, Hayden had his magnetic defence. Perhaps there was some small hope. If his husband was alive, that was. Sarge edged his way along the hall, checking cells sealed by force fields he couldn‟t begin to understand. Most were filled with single occupants, shifters no doubt. All were naked. He was almost at the end of the hall, about to check the last couple of cells, when another Schism came into view. He reacted almost in an instant, squeezing the trigger of the magno-welder. Unfortunately, the Schism shrieked before it was returned to the ether in which it was created. Had the alarm been raised? Sarge didn‟t hang around to find out. He recalibrated the tool before he peered into the last few cells. If his angel wasn‟t here, he would have to double back and try another level. He would 141

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search every inch of the ship to find his man, no matter what. Still, a sinking feeling overcame him as he came upon the last cell. If Hayden wasn‟t there, then there was only one other possibility. He was dead already. The last cell contained a stranger. Sarge cursed himself, cursed his weak human form, one which was unable to protect his man when the need was the greatest. He turned toward the elevator. Anger toward the Schism and what they had done washed over him. “I‟ll get you yet, you fucking Schism cunts!” Sarge stabbed at each cells release when he passed. Soon the hall was crowded with confused, yet thankful shifter folk. Most ran, but a few stayed close to Sarge. One he recognised as the young slave boy in Rigg‟s apartment, the one who had been beaten to within an inch of his life, the one Hayden had been bonded to while he was secured in the slave pens at the Mattock Markets. He added, “Stay close to me if you all want to get out of here.” The man came up to Sarge. “Is Hayden here?” Sarge turned to look him in the eye. “I wouldn‟t be here otherwise. Do you know if he‟s alive or not?” “I am Amza as you know, and I am pleased to meet you, Sarge, lover of shifters and protector of the faith. And yes, if Hayden was captured, then he will be brought here. The Schism like to kill us 142

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ceremoniously, slow and painful, so we become aware of the stain on the universe we created when we were born. That is their way.” “They‟re fucking bastards, that‟s what they are. You‟re no more a stain than I am. They‟re the stains. Great big fuck stains after an unholy orgy, that‟s what they are, and they need to be reminded of that fact.” But Amza‟s words had raised hope within him. His words meant that Hayden was probably being escorted down to the cells right now, held until they butchered him in whatever fashion their sick minds created. His thoughts were punctuated by the opening of the elevator‟s doors. From the carriage, three Schism came, Hayden held by two of them. “Hayden!” Sarge bellowed at the top of his lungs, blasting away with his magno-welder. His theory that the Schism could adapt to the magnetic resonance was well founded. By the time he fired the third shot, the Schism he had aimed for remained in existence. A klaxon sounded. “Run, Hayden!” Amza shouted. Hayden ran behind Sarge, the look on his face sheer and absolute terror “Get behind me, angel.” Sarge had re-calibrated the tool. Just in time, too. The Schism had begun to weave the dark matter around him, pull it into existence and constrict his airflow, create a force upon him which may see the end of his days. A heart beat 143

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later, the Schism was no more. Sarge‟s nostrils burned, a sulphur like tang struck him. “They‟re contaminating the air in this level,” Amza said. Sarge, without thought, grabbed Hayden and Amza. “We‟ve got to get off this level. Pronto! Quick, all of you, into the elevator.” Sarge knew he had eight shots left in the magno-welder. He also knew there were more Schism than that on board. In fact, he had heard Schism vehicles harboured hundreds of the bastards. He didn‟t suppose they would entertain the idea of him giving them blow jobs to let them go free. Besides, did Schism have cocks? When the lift doors opened, and the loading bay area came into view, Sarge realised that pretty much all of those hundreds of Schism were waiting for him. “Holy fucking mother of God,” he cursed. The sight before him was sickening. The air already starting to coalesce into dark matter, lubricated into being by the chants of the Schism in the loading bay. A chant which sent shivers throughout Sarge‟s body. “We‟re so fucking dead.” A whistle, shrill and made by a man, pierced the air. Sarge‟s attention was diverted toward Trevor. The man stood on top of an Existence Sphere. “Sarge, hold them off for a second while I set the self-destruct on this vehicle. We‟ll blow 144

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these bastards to kingdom come.” “But we‟ll be dead before the countdown is over. They‟re already chanting, for fucks sake.” “We have time,” Trevor bellowed. “They can‟t call upon the dark matter and fight you at the same time. Just do something, mate.” Sarge lifted up the magno-welder, firing at the closest Schism. When that being disintegrated, he re-calibrated and fired again, repeating the process over and over until all eight modifications were used up and the tool no longer had any effect. Breathing was now difficult. Amza came into view. “My shifter brothers stand with me. We‟re going to stand and fight this time.” Much to Sarge‟s complete and utter surprise, all the shifters morphed into their animal forms. All of them were peacocks, the dazzle of their display almost blinded him. It was beautiful to say the least. The peacocks created a feathery kaleidoscope of colours, emeralds, azures, whites, reds and all enhanced by silvers and gold. Then, again doing something which took him aback, all of the peacock shifters opened their tail plumage. In that instant, Sarge was struck with a force he couldn‟t resist. The force didn‟t come from the Schism. It came from the shifters all around him. If one peacock shifters magnetic defence was effective, then together they were a power to 145

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behold. Sarge was sure his blood had separated from its iron components, the magnetic energy which struck him that strong. In fact, his mind spun, blacking out his thoughts and hold on the moment, only able to regain a hold on the conscious world because the blast from the feathers ceased. When he looked up, every Schism had disappeared. The loading bay empty except for half a dozen peacocks, Trevor, two Existence Spheres, and a Schism freighter shuttle named the Aardvark. Probably in reference to a colony of shifters they wiped out, no doubt. The shifters morphed back into human form. Hayden embraced Sarge, hugged him tight. “Quick, we must get out of here. All we have done is send them away for a moment. They will be back.” “What do you mean?” Amza said, “Trevor, have you set the selfdestruct on the Sphere?” Trevor nodded. “Sure have.” With his words, a Schism being‟s form began to emerge. “We must go now!” Hayden screamed, grabbing Sarge‟s hand and pulling him toward the Aardvark. Another Schism came into being, born from the dark matter place from where it was banished only moments ago. “Go, Sarge. Don‟t worry about 146

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me. I‟ll use the other Sphere to get out of here. Just fucking go and don‟t look back, that‟s a fucking order.” Sarge was inside the Aardvark before his mind could comprehend the turn of events. “Get into the cockpit. You must pilot us out of here. We will defend the ship during our escape.” Again, the shifters transformed, staying in formation while they unfurled their tail plumage. Sarge didn‟t waste any time. He went to the controls. From the screen he could see that all of the Schism had returned, calling upon their strange energy to smite their enemies. Thankfully, he was well clear of their vehicle before he had a chance to worry about such matters. He saw the Existence Sphere leave. Trevor was safe. A blinding light consumed his vision.

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Chapter Twenty-five AD 3621 — Schism craft, Aardvark, Leaving Ardross Major System

S

arge sat back. The Schism had been destroyed. Sure, there would be plenty more to bleed into the universe from the dark places to take their place, but all in all, he was happy to see the last of that lot. Finally, and after what seemed like an eternity, he could relax. He breathed a deep sigh of relief to emphasise those thoughts. He left the pilot‟s chair and headed for the main loading bay of the craft. The shifters he rescued had returned to human form. Hayden and Amza had made sure they all found comfortable rooms to stay in. The freighter was big enough for them all, offering ample accommodation and facilities. Most of the shifters had partnered, finding comfort with one another. Sarge hadn‟t noticed before, but some were female, about half of the twenty or so which had found their freedom thanks to him and Trevor and their combined 148

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talents. Seemed this colony from Boonta had been saved, after all. Even Amza found a mate, a frail but attractive looking man with a pleasant face and a cock which could please even the fussiest bloke. Right there and then, Sarge knew he would take them all with him no matter where they ended up. He would make sure they were as safe as his angel and do so for as long as he breathed the free air. That was the promise he made himself, right there and then, and with every fibre in his being. These people were Hayden‟s clan, his family, and they needed to be protected. Hayden returned from his duties of seeing his to his clan‟s comfort. He was naked and beautiful and wearing a smile which was more than enough to tell him he had done good. Very good. “I suppose you want me to reward you for rescuing me and my clan now, don‟t you?” “Naw, just fuck the living daylights out of me and we‟ll call it even, all right?” Hayden held Sarge‟s hands. “You know the Schism will never give up their hunt for us.” “I know. But what they don‟t know is that I‟ll never give up protecting you, and in my book, that‟s something to be far more scared of.” “I love you so much, my care bear.” “I love you, too.” Sarge kissed his husband, one filled with his affection, deep and meaningful and filled with dizzy spells and a churning stomach 149

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thrown in for good measure. “Now get me into that bedroom and do your worst. I have a hankering for your cock, and I don‟t know how much longer I can last without it.” Without another word, Hayden led Sarge to their new bed. A bed which belonged in their new home. How long the shuttle would be their abode, Sarge couldn‟t even hazard a guess, but for the here and now, he didn‟t care. All he wanted was his man. The lights in their cabin were low and romantic. Sarge had a hard on even Hayden would have trouble not to gag on. Still, he disrobed as quick as he could then laid on the bed. Sarge opened his legs. “Now fucking take me, my angel. I‟m begging you, I need that huge fucking cock of yours deep inside my arse.” Hayden didn‟t hesitate. He lubricated himself from a tube within the top drawer beside the bed, as hard and beautiful as Sarge had ever seen him. His cock head, bright red and moist, bulged with his intentions, foreskin retracted. His angel was ready for action and in the most wonderful way. Seconds later, and as one, writhing and groaning in unison on the bed, Hayden and Sarge consummated their love for one another. Sure, they had made love plenty of times since they were married, but this time the experience for Sarge was different. This time Hayden seemed at peace, able to 150

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concentrate on doing nothing else but pleasuring his man, since he no longer had to look over his shoulder, maintain a charade for his own safety. Sarge knew he was a shifter. He knew the Schism had been defeated. For the here and now, all was peaceful and good in the universe, and Sarge couldn‟t be happier. His stomach turned with pleasurable delight as Hayden slid his cock in and out of him in a gentle but deep motion. His face angelic, yet determined. His smile, sexy and wonderful remained on his lips while he worked, while he made love to his man. Sarge gasped many times, watching his angel was hypnotising and oh so fucking magnificent. He wanted the moment to last forever. Then, just when he believed things couldn‟t get any better, Hayden jacked him off, held onto his cock for dear life, bring him to near climax while he fucked him. “Ohfarkinghelll,” Sarge garbled as Hayden sunk his cock deeper and deeper within him with each thrust of his pelvis. Then it happened. Sarge blew his load all over himself. Hayden shuddered, too. They had cum together. “You are so mine, forever and ever, my handsome bear,” Hayden said, coming to embrace Sarge tight, lavish hot wet kisses all over his neck, face and lips. Sarge let his man do whatever he wanted. After 151

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all, to be with him completed him. No amount of danger was too great. No amount of worry too unsurmountable. So long as he was in his angel‟s arms at the end of the day, then all was perfect with the universe as far as he was concerned. Together they were free. Together their love was unstoppable. When Hayden parted his kisses, looked Sarge in his eyes, he said. “You want me to take you again?” “Yes,” Sarge breathed, his body already stirring once more, pre-cum already replacing the ejaculate of only moments ago. “Where did you set a course for?” Sarge smiled. “A system which hasn‟t seen the Schism presence yet. A system called Sol, I believe.” “Sounds wonderful.” “Sure does. Now quite your yapping and fuck me again, my angel.” Hayden paused, seemingly deep in thought. “I‟ve heard the one planet which supports life in that system was the birth place of the human kind. Do you think that‟s true?” Sarge shrugged his shoulders. “All I know is I‟ve got another hard-on that needs attention.” Hayden let out a laugh. “You‟re incorrigible.” “I know, you keep telling me. Now get to it, fuck your bear, make him growl for more until his voice is hoarse. Besides, everyone knows human 152

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life began on Ardross Major. Such talk is just an old legend.” “Like the shifters were legend, you mean?”

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About the Author My name is Mark Alders. I live in a house. This house has a street in front of it which is a good thing because if it didn‟t I wouldn‟t be able to drive down to the shop and purchase the chocolate I need on a daily basis. *giggle* Seriously, I am a mild mannered post office worker by day and an erotic romance writer (mainly male/male) at night. Not much else to say other than, like everyone else, I have bills to pay, a mortgage and family that I love and drive me crazy all at the same time. Oh, and I have a dog, too! See? Average Joe…except when I get down and write…then I let my imagination go to places I never knew existed and my characters invade my mind.