13. Thrax

13

THRAX

" W ell that was a fucking interesting ride," Thrax remarked, as soon as they stepped into the guest quarters of the milking farm and were finally alone.

Alone was the right word too, he thought grimly. The facility was located in the middle of a vast swamp where the smell of the Fume was even stronger. It was the only building on the single floating platform which was the only visible structure for miles around.

The platform the farm was located on was closer to the swamps than the ones on the Southern Continent had been—a lot closer. The surface of the water was visible out the rounded window and Thrax could see the ridged backs of the massive kroc-o-wow reptilians swimming in the murky gloom just outside.

However, it wasn't their remote location or the danger lurking outside that was uppermost on his mind at the moment. It was the discomfort he was feeling.

The ride from the Southern Continent to the Northern Continent had taken several hours, since Queen Pantyitch's shuttle wasn't nearly as fast as a Kindred ship. It wasn't as smooth either—they'd hit many patches of turbulence caused by the rising marsh gasses—or so Queen Pantyitch told them.

The entire trip Andi had been seated in his lap and the many bouts of turbulence had caused her soft, rounded bottom to rub against his shaft in an extremely distracting way. After getting to suck his partner's nipples and taste her pussy and then having her rubbing against him for two solid hours, Thrax felt ready to fucking explode .

He wondered if the fresher was anywhere near—he could really use a few minutes to take himself in hand and get some relief from the massive case of blue balls he'd acquired during this mission.

But from the look on Andi's face, he wasn't going to get that time to himself—at least, not yet. She was frowning and had her hands on her hips—clear signs that she had something to say.

"All right. Come on—what is it?" He sat down on the side of the bed, which was on a raised platform that floated on a cushion of air. It rocked gently with his weight as he settled.

"'What is it?' How can you ask me that?" Andi demanded.

"I'm asking because I want to know what's got you all worked up," Thrax said, frowning. "I know that look on your face—you're not happy about something. So tell me what it is so we can fix it."

"What I'm not happy about is you!" Andi exclaimed. "Why didn't you just pretend to go down on me during the dinner feast like we agreed?"

Thrax felt a surge of guilt. It was true he'd gone off script during the feast—more than just off script. He'd broken his partner's trust—a thing he'd never wanted to do.

"Andi, look, I know I fucked up," he said, trying to make amends. "I shouldn't have tasted you like that."

"No, you shouldn't." She glared at him. "So why did you do it?"

"I didn't mean to," Thrax protested. "I just…got so fucking carried away when I put my face between your thighs. I mean, finally getting to fulfill a fantasy like that?—"

"Wait, hold on. Are you saying you fantasize about me?" For some reason she looked even more upset.

Uh-oh…Thrax was trapped and he knew it.

"Look, I mean, you're my partner but you're also a beautiful woman," he began, trying to find a way to mitigate the damage. "And I was already so fucking worked up from finally getting to touch your breasts and suck your tight nipples?—"

"Thrax, I can't believe this!" She shook her head. "So all this time, that's all I've been to you? Just some kind of a…a sex object?"

"No!" he exploded, his frustration boiling over. "Of course not! You're my partner. Seven Hells, you've saved my life and I've saved yours several times over. We depend on each other."

"Yes, we do. Which is why it's kind of disconcerting to find out you've been fantasizing about me," Andi said, frowning.

"How can I fucking help it when you're so fucking gorgeous?" Thrax demanded, feeling exasperated. "Asking me not to think about you that way is like putting a feast in front of a starving male and asking him not to even think about taking a bite. It's fucking impossible!"

"I thought we were friends—colleagues," Andi protested. Clearly she still wasn't getting it. "I thought you respected me."

"I do!" Thrax ran a hand over his horns in exasperation. "Just because I find you so damn sexy it makes my shaft hurt doesn't mean I don't fucking respect you! It just means I want you too— even if I can never fucking have you!"

"But you never said—" Andi began.

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Excuse me, but is everything all right in there?" a voice called.

Before either of them could answer, the door slid open revealing Turg, the male-wife of Queen Pantyitch. He hadn't said a word the entire flight from the Southern to the Northern Continent so Thrax had no idea what the male might be thinking. But the look on his face was one of uncertainty as he stood in their doorway holding a bundle of clothing in his arms.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I heard shouting," he said, looking pointedly at Thrax.

Thrax felt a growl of irritation building in his throat and had to swallow it down with some difficulty. He wanted to tell the other male to fuck off, but Andi beat him to it.

"We weren't shouting exactly—just having a spirited disagreement," she said, frowning. "And I didn't say you could open my door!" she added, glaring at him.

Turg flinched as though she'd struck him and looked down at his shoes.

"Forgive me, Queen Elladaughter. I was sent to bring you your new clothing and I just thought I should warn you—it's not permitted for male-wives to speak back to their Queens. If my own Queen were to hear you, she might get the wrong idea about your relationship."

"You mean she might think I'm not in complete control of my male-wife?" Andi demanded. "Well, I assure you—she'd be wrong. Thrax—come here and get on your knees before me!" she demanded.

Their eyes met and clashed. Thrax knew what she was doing—asserting her dominance over him because she was still angry about their conversation. Part of him wanted to defy her—but another part—a part that had been buried for years but was now emerging again—wanted to obey.

"On your knees, my beautiful boy," a throaty female voice whispered in his memory. "Crawl for me. And if you're very good, I'll let you taste my pussy…"

Unwillingly, he got off the bed and went to her. He dropped to his knees before the Mistress—no, Andi . This was his partner he was kneeling to and they were both playing parts. This had nothing to do with his unquiet past which kept rising to the surface like a murdered corpse floating up from the bottom of a swamp. But it was getting harder and harder to remember that.

"Do you see?" Andi ran her hand over his horns and through his hair, stroking him like she owned him.

A hard shiver ran down Thrax's back and he leaned into her, pressing his face between her breasts—he couldn't fucking help himself. He wanted her touch so badly—wanted to feel owned by her. He wanted to give her whatever she demanded because she was the Mistress.

No, that's Andi, he reminded himself again as he breathed in her warm, feminine scent. Fuck, what was wrong with him? Was that weird Fume that pervaded the air everywhere getting into his brain and making him want to submit?

Thrax had no answers, he only knew he felt torn in two as he knelt there with his arms wrapped around his partner's waist and his face pressed to her soft breasts. Part of him wanted to get up and end this fucking charade—and the other part never wanted it to be over.

Andi seemed to be at a loss too because after a moment she tapped him on the head.

"That's enough now, Thrax. I think our visitor gets the idea," she murmured.

Thrax didn't want to let go of her—he wanted to wrap himself around the small, curvy Elite and take her to bed. Wanted to spend hours with his face buried between her thighs, tasting her honey and bringing her pleasure as she stroked his horns and called his name while she came over and over. But he knew that was never going to happen so he made himself release her. Pulling away, he rose to stand beside her and looked at the little male-wife who was still watching them.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there all day?" he growled, venting some of his frustration on the other male.

Turg flinched but stood his ground.

"As I said, I was sent to bring you your new clothes," he said, offering the pile of garments in his arms.

"New clothes? What the fuck is wrong with the clothes we have on now?" Thrax demanded. Well, other than the fact that they were fucking ridiculous, he amended to himself.

"They're not proper attire for touring the milking farm," Turg said patiently. "You're dressed for a formal feast—such clothing can't be worn around industrial equipment. You might ruin it. And besides, you'd be breaking the dress code."

"Dress code?" Andi raised her eyebrows. "Do the Delta Salacions change their clothes all the time then?"

"Yes, constantly." Turg nodded. "In fact, if we hadn't been in such a hurry to get to the milking farm for the meeting with my Queen's business partner, we would have changed into traveling clothes. Really, coming all this way in feasting clothing was most inappropriate." He shivered, as though the breach of dress protocol really bothered him.

"Okay, well let's see what you have for us," Andi said, nodding.

"I'll lay out your outfits on the sleeping platform if I may?" Turg raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

"Yes, of course. Thank you." Andi nodded graciously and the little male came forward and began to drape the various pieces of clothing in his arms over the floating mattress.

Thrax watched, frowning as he produced a black dress with a low-cut top and pink trim for Andi. Right beside it he placed a pair of trousers with the crotch and ass cut out—Thrax could guess who those were for.

His stomach seemed to turn to ice as he looked at the trousers. They were exactly like the ones the Mistress had made him wear so long ago.

We must show off your shaft, beautiful boy, whispered her voice in his head. It's so big and hard—we need to keep it standing at attention at all times. And maybe if you're very good I'll stroke it for you…

He pushed the memory away and was relieved when Andi protested.

"Hey—what's going on with these?" she demanded, picking up the trousers. "Why are they crotchless?"

"Why because—my Queen and her business partner must be able to see your male-wife's equipment before they make any kind of deal with you." Turg looked surprised that she would object. "Also, you need to be able to reach him—both for manual stimulation and for tail placement."

"For what the fuck did you say?" Thrax demanded. There was a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach but he tried not to give in to it.

"Tail placement," Turg repeated. "All male-wives at the milking farm are required to wear them. It reminds us that we're not any better than the milkers and the studs because we're all just males. See—even I wear one."

He turned to the side so they could see and for the first time Thrax noticed that the back of the little male-wife's trousers was missing. Long, silver strands of a "tail" were hanging down behind—clearly they were attached to something that was buried inside him.

Thrax felt another surge of dismay as memories came crashing down on him like heavy, suffocating waves.

You have to get used to me touching you here, my beautiful boy. No part of your body is off-limits to me. I own ALL of you. So just relax and let me make you feel good…

"I'm not wearing a fucking tail," he grated out, glaring at the other male. "No matter what the fucking protocol is!"

Turg's eyes—which were a nondescript gray—opened wide.

"Oh, but you must! My Queen will refuse to do business with your Queen if you don't! Why, she won't even let you tour the facility if you're not properly attired and tailed."

Thrax felt like there was a fist clenching in his midsection—clenching and tightening up every part of him. Was he really going to be forced to do this—to wear the fucking tail?

It seemed so. This was their only chance to find out where Commander Kier was, he reminded himself—he was going to have to man up and do it.

"Fine," he growled at last. "Give me the tail—I'll put it in myself in the fresher."

"Oh no—you can't do that!" Turg looked even more shocked. "Your Queen must insert the tail!"

"Why?" Andi demanded. She was giving Thrax a worried look and he wondered if some of the distress he was feeling was showing on his face. He did his best to smooth out his features and look coolly annoyed instead of on the ragged edge of panic, which was how he felt.

"Well because no male-wife may touch himself intimately," Turg said, speaking as though they ought to already know this. "I know the two of you are new to the Female-led way of life," he continued. "But here on Salacious Delta, we believe that the male-wife's body isn't his own—it belongs to his Queen. She may touch him and give him pleasure or take pleasure with him, but he mustn't touch his own body—not his intimate areas, anyway," he added, blushing. "That would be wrong."

"Well that's certainly an interesting concept," Andi said, frowning. "But are you sure I have to be the one to insert the tail?"

"Unless you want my Queen to do it," Turg said, frowning. "But it's also frowned on here for a Queen to touch another Queen's male-wife intimately. Still, since you're new here, she might make an exception."

"No!" Thrax barked before he could stop himself.

Andi turned to him, wide-eyed at his outburst.

"Thrax?" she asked, turning his name into a question.

"I mean…" He took a deep breath. "If anyone is going to put a tail in me, I'd rather it was you than someone I don't even fucking know."

Andi nodded and put a hand on his arm.

"All right. I'll do it." She turned to Turg. "Er, how big is this, uh, tail I'm supposed to use on my partn—I mean my male-wife?"

"I expect my Queen will have a small one for you, since your male-wife isn't used to wearing a tail," Turg told them. "She's waiting for you now, by the way. So if you'll please hurry and get dressed, I'll lead you to her."

"Fine, but you get out of the room," Thrax told him. "And don't be fucking listening at the door, either. What my Queen and I say to each other is fucking private."

"Understood." Turg nodded and beat a hasty retreat, closing the door behind him.

Which left Thrax and his partner alone, staring first at the clothes on the bed…and then each other.