|By : Bebe|
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
Views: 383 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
|Disclaimer: Tribune owns all rights to Andromeda.|
Title: In Human Bondage, Pt. 1
Summary: Tyr has taken Beka as his slave.
Setting: No specific setting.
Disclaimer: Tribune owns all rights to Andromeda.
Archive: Do not archive without express permission.
Feedback: Constructive criticism welcome.
Author’s Note: This was written a while ago, but I was reluctant to post because of the subject. The title has more than one meaning, something that especially comes into play in Part 2.
Tyr sat back in the chair, noting that it was almost but not quite comfortable enough to relax in. There was not enough padding to fully disguise the hard frame underneath, the arms were ever so slightly too short for his forearms, and the angle of the back was just a little too high to relax into. As an effort to discomfort him, it was fairly transparent. He twitched his facial muscles just enough to imply it bothering him without actually being obvious about it and proceeded to ignore it, as he had other aspects of this meeting that demanded far more focus.
One of them was the man sitting across small room from him and looking far too proud of himself at that little twitch. Useless individual in charge of a useless pride, and he had already informed Dylan that it was a waste of time, but Dylan thought he might be helpful in garnering support from other smaller prides, so here Tyr was. Most of this pride had mediocre genetics and ancestors, so he doubted he would even come to any personal gain here, either. Perhaps it was for the best that Beka was with him, though he doubted she would view it that way, as subservient as she was being forced to be.
And subservient she was at that moment, chafing at the enhanced restrictions of this role. He could feel her tension as she stood beside his chair, the eyes of several of the other men on her instead of him. They were supposed to be watching for a threat; while Beka would indeed be a threat in a fight, he doubted that they were assessing her that way instead of one that focused on the extraordinarily long stretch of her legs under her short skirt. She had not been pleased at his order that she wear that, nor the scanty top that went with it, and had only done so grudgingly after she’d assured herself that the ensemble would not hamper her should she need to move fast. Frankly, as long as she wore it and stayed within her assigned role, he was willing to let the matter rest. The importance was of convincing them that she was there as a toy of an inferior Nietzschean.
They did appear to have some knowledge, however. Now that the introductions and other initial matters were attended to— he would struggle to call them pleasantries, even in a Nietzschean sense— the man across from him, Xerxes, nodded to Beka. “I am surprised your captain allows slaves aboard his ship. He preaches so many principles that would be at odds.”
Tyr shrugged. “That is the price of my assistance. He knows that he needs a good soldier and cannot afford to alienate me. Besides,” and he moved one hand to Beka’s leg, the eyes of the rest of the men in the room following it, “he is under the impression that she is a source of information for him. If he thinks he has a spy on his Nietzschean’s every motion, he will put up with a great deal. He is, after all, a military commander, and knowing how to use his best asset to his advantage is of primary importance.” As he’d intended, most of them seemed to accept that, sneering at the implication that Dylan thought Tyr belonged to him, their own arrogance costing them perspective.
Xerxes was not entirely convinced, though Tyr could see him wanting to accept it. Humans were inferior, after all, and belonged as slaves in his mindset. The sheer fact that they sat in relative comfort as the Human capital of the pride worked in the mines that constituted the material wealth of the pride was enough to support that. “The Drago-Katsov indicate that she lives at will on the ship. She has been seen elsewhere without you or a proxy in attendance. She has no tracking device,” Xerxes raised an eyebrow at that, turning the statement into a question. “I might even suppose that she is not actually your slave.”
“No tracking device that that you know of." Tyr gave him a ghost of a smile and let his fingers slip up Beka's inner thigh a few inches, letting him assume. He could feel her tense as he drew level with the hem of the skirt, but she held her position and her tongue, despite what must have been considerable temptation. He could also hear her heart, and those of several others in the room, trip into a faster beat. "I tend toward lenience. She knows what her place and limitations are. She also knows that, should I be displeased, she will suffer for it in some fashion. Correct?"
“Yes,” she said, tartly. He tightened his fingers, just barely pressing his nails against her soft skin, and she immediately corrected, in a far more modulated tone, “Yes, master.”
“And she serves you as her slave by, I understand, piloting the ship?” Xerxes was relaxing, distracted by the implications of their actions, ready to write Tyr off as no threat at all, Dylan as a paper tiger.
Tyr dropped his hand and stared at the supposed Alpha. “Tell me, do you not assign your stronger slaves to manual labor? Your more intelligent ones to tasks that require some understanding? I employ her to her strengths, including as a pilot. All aboard benefit, including the captain, and she is one more asset he stands to lose should he alienate me.”
“Oh, very well.” Xerxes dropped back into his chair. Tyr wasn’t foolish enough to assume he was convinced beyond doubt, but it seemed that he might be. He waved a hand. “Dismiss her. We have things to discuss.”
“No. I am not assured of her safety here and will not have my property separated from me. Besides, if we are discussing Commonwealth business, she is to be here as a witness. At the request of Captain Hunt.” He telegraphed impatience, irritation with the spy at his side. “If it is personal business, then surely it requires only us?” He glanced pointedly at the men of the pride arrayed around the room.
Xerxes sighed. “If you insist.” He waved a hand again, this time at one of the others, and a sheaf of materials was brought over.
Tyr resented the show. To have to playact being foppish and easily led to these fools for the gain of the Commonwealth irked him. It would make his eventual emergence into power more satisfying, but in the short term he wished to show them just how inferior they were to him. He reigned in the impulse, but did wonder how surprised Xerxes would have been to have his neck snapped during one of the several opportunities Tyr had had over the course of the day.
“You’re thinking of killing someone, aren’t you? Dylan or one of our hosts?”
He looked over at Beka, sitting at the small table in the room they’d been given for the visit. He hadn’t realized she’d been watching him. “If I were, would I tell you?”
“Probably not. But you looked like it.”
Before he thought more about that, the scanner he was holding beeped. Another bug, the fifth he’d found either newly placed or reactivated since returning from dinner. He disposed of that one and set down the scanner. “Whether I am or have a look is immaterial. We have more pressing issues. You need to read through the agreement as well.”
Beka rolled her eyes, but pulled the document over. “Secretarial work. Yippee.”
He let it go, reminding himself of his earlier statement about lenience. Her eyes could only help to see something that he might have missed in the earlier discussions or current standing of the negotiations, as unlikely as he was to have missed much. Instead he picked up the scanner and went over the room and the attached bathroom again, after changing the settings. The guest suite was much like the chair from the day: just not comfortable enough to relax and just uncomfortable enough to ensure distraction. The proportions of the room and its furniture were all slightly odd, with more than one sharp corner at knee level. Even the bathroom was awkwardly shaped. Apparently the pride had no confidence in its own abilities and had to resort to over-the-top tricks.
Once he’d finished another scan, Beka was still reading the current draft of the agreement, and he took advantage of the lull to check his weaponry. Most of it had been on his body, but a few pieces had been left in the room during the discussions and dinner, and he was unsurprised to find small incidents of sabotage, including missing firing pins. Amateurs. He’d made a habit of carrying extras after seeing Harper disarm Gerentex so quickly and efficiently, and his guns were quickly restored to functioning order. Satisfied, he sat to wait for Beka to finish reading and making notes, something that she was on the verge of.
The advantage of that, of course, was that he was able to watch her without snide comments, something she normally would have provided. For Beka Valentine, slavery did not equal complete submission, and in fact she was determined to find ways to subvert his orders. He did not begrudge it; if anything, it made for more interest and challenge of what he would otherwise assume to be his right, like the foolish Xerxes. It also provided endless means of reexamining his methods and preventing anyone from exploiting a heretofore undiscovered weakness. If nothing else, his speech had become even more precise lest she find a loophole.
For now she was not challenging him, presumably aware of her own orders to make sure he didn’t try anything that would advance his own interests at the sake of the Andromeda’s. Dylan need not have worried, not for this particular pride. Another, maybe. So he sat and nominally read his book, watching her all the while. The outfit she wore here was particularly enticing, and not something he would have thought to ever see her in. It was only by necessity for her to be recognized as a slave by the pride; they would be even more unlikely to believe her as one in her customary clothing. The appeal of seeing her in it was merely a bonus, but one he enjoyed thoroughly. From here he could see her legs, bare and exposed almost up the the junction of them, and the flex of the muscles in her side as she moved and breathed. It was particularly appealing when she stretched, as far as he was concerned. Tyr was almost disappointed when she finished reading.
With an adequate amount of caution, she made her own copy before handing back his. “I didn’t find anything obvious. Outside of the stuff we still need to discuss tomorrow, at least.” She tucked her copy away and he did the same with his. The more copies they had, the greater the risk that not all of them would be tampered with by their hosts. “One more day?”
“One more. Theoretically.” He withdrew a bottle of oil from his bag and handed it to her. “The bathtub appears to be the best amenity this place has to offer and I wish to take advantage of it. Fill it and use this.”
She rolled her eyes again but disappeared into the bathroom. He was curious as to what retaliation he’d suffer for that particular command; water was running audibly almost immediately, so she wouldn’t be pretending that he had neglected to specify when he wanted the bath, though he had. He smiled, a real one, if small, and prepared for a later challenge.
When Beka came back out a few minutes later, the water having stopped running, he had undressed already. She didn’t comment, instead handing him the bottle back: it had been full and was well over halfway drained. He supposed she’d enjoyed pouring far too much in to prod him, especially with the expense of it. “The tub’s full. Enjoy your bath.”
“Good. I expect you to join me shortly.”
She actually did blink at that. Apparently she hadn’t been expecting him to require her services? While he didn’t entirely trust the locks here, his hearing and the small traps he’d prepared at the possible ingresses would give him enough warning in case of an intruder to react. She recovered almost immediately. “And if I don’t?”
In the middle of a Nietzschean pride, one that viewed him as lenient toward his slave, and she was defiant. Amazing. “Perhaps I was not clear,” he said, silkily. He pressed two fingers just under her chin to ensure she was looking at him. Gently, there was no need for force. “You will be undressed and in the bathroom in five minutes. Am I understood?” She still had a pugnacious set to her lips, but nodded. He held her gaze a moment longer before turning and leaving her in the main room, taking a gun and a knife with him. He refused to be unarmed here.
The bathwater was all but boiling and there was a slick of the bath oil across the surface of the water. Very well; he’d not specified anything other than a full bath, and he’d noticed a great deal of resentment at how she had to behave for the sake of this visit with this pride. He added cold water until the temperature was tolerable, but there wasn’t much to be done about the oil beyond diluting it slightly. Sliding into the water, he waited.
At the end of the five minutes, the door opened and Beka came in. She was still dressed, contrary to his command, but she simply said, “Still too exposed,” and he understood. She did at least start removing what little she had on as soon as the door was closed behind her in a few utilitarian motions. Her matter-of-fact nature in doing so did not diminish his appreciation. Neither did she hesitate before stepping into the tub, although he suspected that that was more to do with a healthy paranoia of intrusion or watching than any real desire to get in. She must have been confident that he’d tempered the temperature of the water to something she could stand, to not pause at all. He held himself still, letting her find her footing.
The tub was not enormous enough that she could join him in it without touching him, though. She settled in sitting between his legs, her back toward him. It was not spacious, but they did fit, with a small amount of room to spare when he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush to him. She stiffened at the movement; it seemed to be in surprise, as she loosened up after a moment. She was used to his touch, even if she resented her role. The hot water no doubt contributed as well, her skin warming against his, and the oil’s scent was intended to be relaxing.
They stayed like that in silence for a few minutes. It had been a long day, between travel to the pride and verbal negotiations, and the next day promised to be more of the same. Having a small window of relative peace was welcome for Tyr and, he was sure, Beka as well. He could feel her tension easing as she leaned more against him, any tiredness and stress overwhelming irritation with him. Unusual, but not a change he was going to argue with, not when the feel of her body against his appealed to his base nature. He could feel his body stirring just at the thought of the way she’d looked all day, let alone at the feel of her pressed against him. While he had for most of the day ignored or suppressed any urges toward her, as difficult as it had been while the outfit she wore exposed her physical assets, it was almost impossible now.
He let his hand drift from her waist to her thigh, the water preventing any truly quick motion. It was easy to slide his hand up her leg, the oil in the water lending slip to any touch. It was only that the tub was just short enough to wedge his feet against the far end that kept them upright against the corner. She didn’t tense again, but he did hear her breath hitch when he teased a finger through the curls between her leg and found more heat there than in the water around them. She was not immune to her own biology, however much she may have wished to be on this trip.
And her biology did respond, her breathing uneven as he played with her body. Her scent was washed by the water, overlaid by the oil, but he could still smell her arousal, grudging or not. It was enticing beyond thought, and he inhaled deeply to experience more of it, moved his fingers just so, and felt her shudder in response. He leaned forward and licked her shoulder, wanting to taste her as well, and was rewarded with a tiny gasp, quickly stifled. That little noise was a tease, not enough for him, and he gently set his teeth into her shoulder while he pressed again with his hand, not just against her sensitive nerves but to pull her more firmly against his risen erection. She didn’t gasp again, but he did hear her heart beat faster, and the sound of her pulse competed with the feel of her against him. It was his turn to shudder. That shudder turned into a barely-restrained thrust against her skin.
He didn’t want to wait any longer. Plunging his other hand into the water, he seized her hips, pulled her up over him. He barely felt her legs slide out over his to support herself, more focused on how she surrounded him as he pulled her down. He didn’t bother stifling the groan of satisfaction. The way her body gripped his was exhilarating after the day of self-denial. For a moment, he enjoyed just that, as well as the way her breath came short. It did not appear to be from pain.
Beka’s hands went to the side of the tub, perilously close to the blade he’d rested there, but less so when he adjusted her position slightly, her legs sliding against his as well until she felt stable under his hands. That small motion brought his full attention to bear on where they were joined, however, and he was abruptly uncaring of anything else. Rather than wait any longer or have her cater more to his wishes, he moved her on him, the glide up and back down making him groan again in unbridled pleasure.
Another movement, another; soon the splashes of the water around them were louder than their mutual harsh breathing, the waves breaking on their bodies as he both pulled her to him and drove up to her, gravity and his own arms not enough to meet the intensity of his need. Harder, faster, her hand bumping the knife and sending it clattering to the floor by the tub as she scrabbled for purchase against his force, and the catch in her throat, not quite a cry, at his next thrust sent him over the edge as well. He shuddered underneath her, keeping her close to him as the water’s swells subsided.
The motion had diminished almost entirely, the surface only shivering, when he finally relaxed his hands. She was still surrounding him, still hotter than the water against his skin, and he slid one hand back over her thigh, the other holding her in place. Again, carefully, he found that small bundle of nerves, pressed it and felt her twitch. She had played her role well today and deserved pleasure of her own, and so he moved his fingers, a quick rhythm where it helped her most, wanting to feel her climax around him. She did not need much, her body tightening over him until that tension snapped with a half-stifled noise, and her fingers were white on the edge of the tub as she rippled around him. He kept going, creating more waves in the water and in her body, until she finally sighed and relaxed, sagging back against him in a rare moment of vulnerability.
He gave her time before moving again, easing her off of him and back to her original spot between his legs. Much to his surprise, she didn’t pull away; instead she let him move her before settling more comfortably into place. “You want to stay?” he asked, quietly, not wanting to rethink the change. Perhaps the sex had relaxed her more than he thought it would?
She shrugged. “Water’s still warm, may as well take advantage of it. We don’t have good bathtubs aboard.”
He accepted that silently. He was not sure whether she was making excuses or being truthful, but he would take her presence with him tonight.
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