The light of the setting sun through the stained glass windows painted muted colors on Sulu’s back. Cal had spent some time at his network, attending to the varied businesses that made up his financial empire while waiting for his young god to awaken. But Sulu hadn’t even moved, his body still sprawled on the bed just as Cal had left him. And while it was an esthetically pleasing sight, Cal was becoming impatient. Telling himself he had all the time he needed, that Sulu was progressing so well that he needn’t worry, did not silence the anxious greed within him. Reminding himself that he had had more already from his beloved prince than there had been in years did not calm his ever-renewing hungers. I have been starving for so long, is it any wonder I fear to have my sustenance denied me?

He had checked once or twice, fearing he had provided too much stimulation to the young, still maturing body. But Sulu’s breathing, while shallow, was steady and even; his skin cool but not cold or clammy. Cal had kissed his sleeping pet, and returned to work. Sulu was young, he was strong - but he was not omnipotent. Even gods needed their sleep.

But now... it had been too long. Cal’s patience abruptly deserted him. He crossed the room to the bed, running a possessive hand the length of Sulu’s naked body. He bent his head to bring his lips close to Sulu’s ear.

“Wake now, beloved,” he said. There was no response. He gently shook Sulu’s shoul­der. It had no discernible effect. A harder shake. “Sulu,” he called. Nothing.

Frowning, Cal slid his hand under Sulu’s arm and chest, shoving him onto his back. The body remained limp, laying unmoving in its new position. Again Cal shook Sulu’s shoulders, again calling sharply. “Sulu. Kamikaze, wake up.” No flutter of eyelids, no change in breath, no half-conscious sound escaping. Cal checked the pulse. Rapid for one asleep, but not erratic. His frown deepened.

“Sulu!” Cal snapped, and lightly slapped Sulu’s face. Still no reaction. A sharper slap, a louder call. “Wake up!” When a third slap, one that left Sulu’s cheek red, evoked nothing, Cal swore under his breath and re-crossed the room to one of the curios. A deft movement opened a drawer where there had been no drawer, and Cal returned to the bed with a hypospray. Carefully lifting the unresisting body into his arms, he applied the stimulant to the base of Sulu’s spine.

“Now, you will awaken,” he murmured.

It was an odd dream. A part of him sat, quite detached, in what seemed like a command center of sorts. He watched screens - like Cal did, his dreaming self realized - each of which showed Cal’s rooms. Each one also showed an image of himself - except one, which seemed to contain his sister. Except Hana was only six years old and the girl in that image was his own age.

There was another part of him that floated in black nothingness. There should have been no sound, no thought, no sensation. That part should have felt as detached as the part in the command center. But it didn’t. It wept in the blankness, though what it was weeping for, he didn’t know.

Abruptly there was an insistent buzzing sound from the command center. He turned to it in time to see the self in the seat turn to him. That self frowned, and in the instant before it reached forward to something he could not see, he realized that he was in one of the screens, looking out.

Sulu woke half in, half out of Cal’s arms. It wasn’t the slow, sleepy kind of waking. He was simply, suddenly, quite awake. He could feel Cal’s hand, resting against his lower back. The touch was again loving and firmly possessive. For some reason, Sulu found that amusing. Cal had said he wasn’t jealous - but his touch belied the words. And Cal hadn’t wanted him to stay with Loki. Cal wanted amber’s fire for himself. Sulu’s heartrate picked up at the knowledge, and he moved his hips back into Cal’s hand, returning the pressure in subtle invita­tion.

He could feel Cal’s smile as the older man shifted positions on the bed, bringing him to rest more fully along Cal’s body. The movement sent shivers along his skin.

“You have slept the day away, pet,” Cal said.

Sulu glanced at the windows, aglow with the sun’s rays, and saw their colors reflected on the white silk of Cal’s robe. He found he had to swallow to relieve a suddenly dry throat. “You like the night better anyway,” he murmured. Cal’s chuckle rumbled through him.

“That is true, beloved,” he returned, “But your power changes day to night.” Sulu felt Cal’s hands caressing his back. After-trails of desire followed his fingers, polarizing Sulu’s senses. He slid his arms around Cal’s waist, his head shifting to lay against Cal’s chest rather than his broad shoulder. He heard the older man’s heartbeat, and his own breathing grew more rapid.

“Are you hungry?” Cal asked. His voice echoed in Sulu’s ears.

“Yes,” Sulu replied, then let that need fill his eyes, meeting Cal’s. The sudden answering hunger let him know he had adequately conveyed that he didn’t mean for nourishment. The communication continued, intense and silent, then Cal sat up, deliberately setting Sulu away from him. Sulu watched as he reached for the controls at the side of the bed. The screens over it flickered to life, only two left. Sulu was filled with sudden apprehension. He still didn’t desire... The thought was overridden by the certain knowledge that if he wanted any release from the arousal - arousal that seemed to be growing by the second - he would have to choose.

He got to his knees, reaching out to caress Cal’s shoulders as Cal had so often caressed his. To his surprise, Cal stiffened, and the older man moved to face him. The dark eyes were annoyed, but Cal simply reached out, stroking Sulu’s cheek.

“For your pleasure, my pet,” was all he said.

Sulu sat back on his heels. “You know,” he began, “except for you, I’ve never made love to a male.” Cal’s eyebrows rose, but the steady gaze didn’t waver. “You’ve taken the initiative,” Sulu continued.

“What of it?” Cal interjected.

“Nothing, only that...” Sulu grinned. “You’ve always been - aroused - already.”

“This is a problem, Kamikaze?” Cal’s voice was without inflection, but Sulu felt suddenly nervous. He reached out, touching the silk lapel of Cal’s robe.

“No, it’s just that...” He looked into Cal’s eyes. “I don’t know how to arouse a male. I’ve never done it.”

Cal laughed, all the tension vanishing. “Sweet prince, who do you think arouses me?”

Sulu’s grin resurfaced, his blood racing. “Yes, but I seem to do that simply by existing.”

Cal shuddered visibly. “Most true, beloved,” he murmured hoarsely. Sulu lowered his voice.

“I don’t think I’ll have the same effect on them,” he said, gesturing to the screens.

“You underestimate yourself, Kamikaze.”

Sulu shuddered with his own reaction. “Even so," he managed, “will such a picture fulfill you?”

“And why should it not?”

“Because,” Sulu leaned forward, gently kissing Cal, “whether you want to admit it or not, you’re possessive.”

“Yes,” Cal replied. The direct admission surprised Sulu. “And I will continue to have you, will I not?”

“After, of course.” A sudden pain in his head distracted Sulu, then was gone as quickly as it had come, taking all memory of it with it. “But how will you feel during?”

“Aroused, as always, as I watch your mastery and power,” was Cal’s sensual answer.

“Mastery and power?” Sulu asked dubiously. “Just by existing?”

“You will show them, my prince, as you have shown those before them.”

Sulu found himself flushing. “You wouldn’t rather be... taking me yourself?”

“As you have said, pet; after, of course.”

Sulu shrugged, and glanced toward the screens. He had no clearer sense of what he was to do, but the need had grown steadily and he was losing the ability to think coherently. The blonde man, so sensually adorned with exotic body paints, seemed the easier choice. He was housed in a brothel setting; osten­sibly he should know what was required. Sulu swallowed, tried to find something about the young man that could inspire lust - then realized he wouldn’t have to. If Cal was right, if his very presence would arouse the young man, then he needn’t do anything but...

...relax, endure, accept...

...push fiercely back to meet each glorious stroke until the rush of liquid heat sent him spiraling down into unconsciousness.

“Him,” he said, pointing.

Cal’s kiss made him forget everything but the desire pounding in time with his heart.

He chose a simple kimono of turquoise blue. The blonde man’s eyes, a brilliant sapphire blue them­selves, watched him as he crossed the room. Sulu knelt by the side of the platform bed, running his hands over the soft, indigo suede upon which the young man lay. The cords that bound him were of the same material, and Sulu just as carefully caressed them.

“You’re young,” the man whispered, then smiled. “Your first time?”

“Not exactly,” was Sulu’s distracted answer. His fingers followed the muscles in the man’s arm down to the hollow of his underarm, then slowly across his tanned chest. The young man bit his lip.

“What should I call you?” he asked.

Sulu’s wandering fingers moved in languid swirls over the man’s quivering stomach. “Kam,” he replied.

“Kamikaze?” came the surprised question. Sulu stopped, looking into the man’s eyes.

“Yes. You?”

“Hermes.”

A racer. For a moment, Sulu was elated. They had something in common, he could use that to find a starting point. Then he remembered that Cal had called all the people in his special rooms ‘the finest professionals.’ He found himself repeating that to Hermes. The blonde smiled.

“This is my profession. Racing’s a hobby.” The look in the blue eyes grew wary. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

Sulu looked away. “No. It’s just...”

“You’re supposed to act one way with racers, and another way with professionals and now you don’t know what to do.” Hermes’ voice was warm and understanding.

Sulu closed his eyes, trying to stop the pounding of his heart. The picture was ridiculous; the alleged ‘young god’ shaking like a virgin while a man tied to a bed was offering comfort. And how was Hermes supposed to give Cal his show tied to that bed? Abruptly, Sulu reached for the cords.

“No!”

Cal cried it at the screen, furious with Sulu, furious with himself. He had debated giving Sulu more amber before sending him to the whore, but he had been concerned for the young man’s tolerance. But this! Gentle, laughing, romantic passion, a tender coupling, afterglow spent resting in the arms of a whore was something he would not again endure. That was not his pet’s destiny.

He rose from his chair, retrieving an amber capsule from his supply, and headed for the brothel room.

Sulu looked up from the cords as Cal burst into the room.

“No,” Cal said, his voice dark and angry. “You will not let this one loose.”

Sulu swallowed. “Cal, I don’t know what to...”

Cal’s hand grabbed his hair, pulling his head back. “He is like any other whore, pet. Use him.”

“But I don’t know...” Sulu choked as Cal’s fingers were shoved in his mouth. He tasted the amber in the back of his throat.

“Don’t disappoint me, Kamikaze,” Cal growled. He let go of Sulu’s hair and left the room.

“So that’s it,” Hermes murmured. Sulu stared at him incomprehensibly. “It’ll be all right, Kam. I know what to do now.”

Numbly, Sulu again reached for the cords, the litany beginning; relax, endure, accept.

Hermes knew what Calvario wanted. Yukio, Janna and Thea had carried stories about the man’s tastes before this particular trick. He’d just never done it with any of the males before. And it appeared he still didn’t want to do it with any of the males. He wanted young, malleable Kamikaze. It wasn’t that Hermes couldn’t understand that - the young Asian had a reckless beauty, and his reputation as a champion racer would appeal to the kind of dominate-the-best attitude Calvario had, according to the women, always evidenced. It simply seemed that Kamikaze didn’t know how and wasn’t all that interested in playing Calvario’s game. But with the man’s angry insistence, with the hit of amber he’d forced into Kamikaze’s mouth... Kam had better get interested, and fast. Hermes was all too aware that the same warning could be applied to him. It was a very lucky thing for him that he craved exactly the kind of sex Calvario wanted Kamikaze to give him.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that,” Hermes said. Sulu glanced at him, his fingers still working on the knots in the cords.

“How are we going to...” Sulu began.

“You are going to do whatever you like. I,” Hermes smiled wickedly, “am going to lay here and suffer.” The way he drew out the final word made it obvious he was going to enjoy every moment of the so-called ‘suffering.’

Sulu sighed. He was right back at the be­gin­ning. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, the pounding of his blood throbbing at his temples.

“The way you were touching me before was a nice start,” Hermes murmured. “Run your fingers along my muscles - but press a little harder, let me feel it.”

Sulu obeyed. An unexpected thrill swept through him as Hermes moaned softly in his throat. Emboldened, Sulu traced down the tanned legs, pressing harder, then back up the inside of his thighs. The man’s organ twitched and started swelling. Sulu stared, fascinated. Hermes’ voice floated down to him.

“My nipples are very sensitive, Kamikaze.”

Sulu moved back up along the side of the bed. He brushed his hand across the knobs of flesh, feel­ing them harden against his palm. A smile began inside him. It wasn’t much different from a woman’s reaction. Deciding to test it, he carefully rolled one nipple between his fingers. Hermes moaned again. Sulu pinched, lightly at first, then harder as the gasp of pleasure reached his ears. He bent his head, letting the tip of his tongue moisten the flesh. The body beneath his mouth writhed. He licked, languid and sensual, then gently sucked the nipple into his mouth.

“Bite it!” came Hermes’ groan. Sulu nibbled softly. “Harder!” The nibbling grew harsher. “Please!”

Sulu closed his teeth around the knob, a jolt of desire rushing through him as Hermes cried out, a sound of joy and anguish.

Sulu raised his head, his eyes gleaming, considering. The memory of Loki and the red-headed woman filled his mind. The red-head had eaten up everything he had done, even that which obviously caused her pain. He’d thought it was because she’d been full of venus. But the look in Hermes’ eyes made him reexamine that assumption. What if she simply liked it that way? And what if that was the way it was supposed to be between men?

I have to, my beloved. This is the only way. In time, you will come to love it

Deep breaths, block out the fear. Endure. Accept. Relax. It will hurt less if you relax.

This is how it is between men. One is the aggressor, the other...

“Please, don’t stop,” Hermes whispered. “It’s just getting good.”

A slow smile came over Sulu’s features. Yes, it’s just getting good. Hermes was tied because here, as with the women, he was the aggressor. Mastery. Power. Take what he wanted. And he’d never had a male body to explore, to experiment with. He could do whatever he wanted.

This was going to be fun.

Helpless tears of pain and pleasure had ruined the elaborate paint on the whore’s face. His lips were swollen, not only from Sulu’s bruising kisses, but from his own teeth, biting at them to stop the cries of ecstasy. The inflamed nipples had teeth­ marks all around them, and there were crescent weals at his throat and along his sides and at the insides of his thighs. Sulu apparently liked using his teeth. The thought that he would soon learn to bite deeply enough to like the taste of blood reeled in Cal’s mind.

He was pinching now, hard twists of the corded muscles in the whore’s arms and legs. The stim and amberglow made him too quick to move on. Cal would have liked it better if Sulu had lingered. But as the stim and amber also gave him the desire and stamina to continue moving on, Cal supposed he would allow it. He hadn’t appreciated the whore giving Sulu suggestions and direction, but he had to admit that once started, Sulu’s own imagination took over and he went far beyond the whore’s advice. He had tightened the cords after being told that the whore liked being restrained as he was, causing the whore’s face to contort with pain. The whore had suggested he bite at his nipples, and the dozens of marks all over the whore’s body were brilliant testament to Sulu’s excess. The whore had said he ‘wanted to feel’ Sulu’s touch. And Sulu was pinching, leaving swollen and discolored patches of skin in his wake.

The whore was panting, loving the attention, sweat gleaming on his skin. Sulu had removed the kimono, realizing early on that Cal had been right; the whore did respond to his beauty, his ‘simply existing.’ The young body was sweat-covered too - Cal had set the temperature controls to insure it. He found it stimulating, and since that was the point of the exercise, he sought to guarantee his own pleasure.

Sulu’s fingers progressed ever nearer to the whore’s genitals, bruising the tender flesh of the inner thigh. The whore was gasping, writhing, groans of ‘harder’ and ‘more’ occasionally breaking through the incoherent moans. His organ was engorged, swollen and jumping with Sulu’s pinches. Finally, Sulu’s hand brushed up against the whore’s scrotum. The whore shrieked, trying to buck in the restraints, and cried out, “Touch me, god, please touch me!”

Sulu chuckled and Cal shuddered. Sulu carefully ran his hand over the whore’s genitals, as gentle now as his fingers had, but moments before, been harsh. The whore sobbed, again trying to arch to the touch. “Please, harder, please!” he moaned. Sulu increased the pressure but a little. The whore made a hopeless sound, his teeth grinding together in agonized frus­tration. Long, ecstatic minutes passed as Sulu played with the whore’s need, Cal’s own hunger rising in time with the agony.

Then, in helpless passion, the whore cried out, “God, give me more!”

Abruptly Sulu squeezed the whore’s testicles. Cal nearly cried out himself at the strength of Sulu’s grip. The whore gasped, his lower body pumping frantically. Sulu held on, his grip tightening. The gasps became louder, hoarser, and Sulu suddenly released him, only to fiercely slap the swollen organ.

Cal’s eyes closed in obdurate bliss. Such a quick student was his beloved pet. He could scarcely believe the raw talent that lay hidden within his chosen one. Had even he dared conceive what imagina­tion, what hunger, what inventive cruelty was con­cealed behind the mask of young, unpretentious Kami­kaze?

When he again opened his eyes to enjoy the pictures on the screen before him, those eyes were glistening with unshed tears of pure joy.

Sulu didn’t know what was driving him, and he couldn’t have slowed his mind enough to figure it out even if he had wanted to. Each of Hermes’ sugges­tions seemed to take on a life of its own within him, leading him to give more, harsher, stronger. The fierce pleasure of Hermes’ reaction was tangible to him, as thick as the air he breathed, as hot as the skin he bruised and bit and twisted. Hermes wanted this - Sulu was transported by that want, deliriously determined to satisfy it. Each touch took him higher, deeper into sensual reverie, each cry releasing the means to continue the flight. His own need throbbed in unattended hunger, and that, too, fueled the soar­ing ecstasy.

He continued to grasp and slap Hermes’ cock and balls, thrilling to the moans and cries, until he knew there had to be more. He glanced up at Hermes’ sweat-and-tear-streaked face, and heard the rasping whisper:

“Let me suck you.”

A picture came to him, of himself astride the red-head, forcing his cock into her mouth, of Loki’s mouth around him, her eyes black amusement and greed as she stared up at him. He moved swiftly, climbing on top of Hermes’ body, loving the moan of helpless need that came from the blonde racer’s throat.

The feeling was fantastic. Somehow, it was different than it had been with the women. Sulu didn’t know if that was the reason, or if Hermes was just more skilled; but he was soon thrusting with fierce abandon, rising higher and higher on the heady sensation.

He became aware of gagging sounds, and Hermes’ head trying to back off of his cock. “Kam...” Hermes gasped, then choked on the next thrust. “Kam... wait...”

Sulu took a shuddering breath, pulling away from the swollen lips. Hermes swallowed, breathing deeply. “Want to... make it better...” he managed. He shifted his head toward the nightstand next to the bed. “In the drawer...” he said. “A green vial...”

Sulu nodded, leaning over to open the table drawer and remove a small green tube. Hermes was getting his breath back.

“It’s emerald,” he whispered. “Emerald gel.” His blue eyes gleamed with hunger. “It’ll make everything feel better.”

Sulu knew it would, though how he came by that knowledge fled from him. Emerald was an enhancer, magnifying all the sensation that its users experienced. The thought sent his desire spiraling into renewed peaks.

“Half for you, half for me,” Hermes continued, then took another deep breath. His eyes were pleading.

Sulu shivered with the pleasure. He carefully broke open the vial. The gel was thick, oozing over his fingers. Carefully, he painted Hermes’ lips, laying on a thick coating of the sweet liquid. Before the blonde could lick it off, Sulu kissed him, tasting the gel, lapping it teasingly from him. When his tongue reached for some, Sulu quickly bit it. He cleaned Hermes’ lips thoroughly, then sat back, smiling as the power of the drug slowly seeped into his being.

“I want it!” Hermes hissed.

“Say ‘please,’” Sulu replied softly.

“Please, god, please!” was the immediate response.

Sulu kissed him again, taunting the hungry mouth with the taste remaining on his lips. Then he slowly spread the rest of the gel in sensual swirls over the head of his cock.

Hermes’ eyes widened. Then he smiled and just as sensually parted his lips, craning his head up to receive the ambrosia. Sulu allowed him to lick the gel from him with languid delight. And after he had swallowed it all, and Sulu could feel the strengthening excitement within them both, he grabbed the back of Hermes’ head and began again to thrust in vehement, brutal hunger.

Soon, even the whore’s excellent mouthwork wasn’t enough. Cal’s exultation in­creased as Sulu pulled harshly away, leaving the whore moaning breathlessly. For a moment, Sulu stared down at the tanned body, every muscle tense, his heart hammering visibly against his smooth chest. Then he whispered, just barely audible, “Fuck you, Cal,” and swiftly released the whore’s legs from the bonds.

Fury swept through Cal’s being, a rage so great it nearly blinded him. How dare he, how dare he?!? After all he had done, all he had given his beloved, to repay him with this - defiance, disobedience!?! All Cal’s plans came crashing around him, all his hopes for sustenance burning away to ashes. He would be hungry again, always, forever....

Kamikaze would suffer for this. Cal would ruin him, devastate him, destroy his beauty, ravage the young body until he had devoured every possible in­stant of pleasure from him, then would consume his power and give him up to utter obliteration.

So great was the hatred as it blazed through him that it shattered his senses, burning itself up with its own enormity, leaving behind only desolation.

Kamikaze, how could you have failed me?

Then, on the screen, Sulu was tearing the whore’s knees apart, pressing the long legs harshly up to the whore’s shoulders - refastening the chafed ankles to the bindings that still held the wrists. The whore begged as Sulu climbed onto the bed. Sulu dug his fingernails into the roughly parted, exposed flesh. With a pause only long enough to insure the correct positioning, Sulu sheathed himself fully into the whore’s tortured body.

Desolation evaporated and the hatred that had consumed Cal’s being was transformed into fervent, triumphant rapture. How could he have doubted? He must learn to trust Kamikaze’s instincts. Hadn’t his young god already proven their worth? And how much better will the feasting be when it is of Sulu’s own accord, when he will find partners; not whores paid to allow his touch, but willing - or, sweet gods, unwilling - bodies to taunt and take... and in time, in a very short time....

Cal soared on the renewed devotion. The whore’s raucous cries enchanted him, Sulu’s savage violation thrilling in its intensity. The heaving, thrusting young body, the whore’s contorted suffering, the power... the strength... the domination....

Now, if only sweet Kamikaze had a knife with which to slice the whore’s sobbing throat....

There was no time, no sound, nothing but the eerie, distorted pictures flooding his sight and the overpowering passion singing in his blood. Hermes’ mouth was open, neck muscles straining, his chest rising and falling in erratic, labored breathing. Sulu was carried on crests of sensation, at once excruciating and supremely sweet. To continue was no effort; he barely felt the body he rode so violently, indeed, barely felt the hammering of his own heart, the bellowing of his own lungs. He soared, aware only of the need to rise higher, ever and always higher.

When the inevitable crash came, he was taken into an exhaustion so deep he could not have comprehended it. Every muscle failed, even the knowledge that he could control them lost to him. For a brief, insubstantial moment he was aware that he had inflic­ted upon Hermes the horror that he himself had endured. The knowledge left him utterly devastated, and threw him deeper into the weakness until he was too depleted to care.

Sulu’s collapse against the whore’s body was so sudden that Cal had no idea whether or not his young god had achieved orgasm. Nor did he particularly care. The last few furious withdrawals from the whore had revealed bright, glistening blood, and it had been enough to give Cal another full erection. He would waste no time with baths and massages. He would not even take the time to move his exhausted pet. He would take Sulu as he lay, filling him with violence to match his perfection.

That it would cause the whore unbearable agony was icing on the cake.

There was a nightmare trying to play in his head. Hoarse shrieks of pain, the smell of sweat and semen and blood, a contorted blue-eyed face pressed close to his own. His arms were somewhere he couldn’t feel, his knees against hot, sweat-slicked flesh. The penetration of his body was fierce, violent, but he couldn’t feel it as anything more than heaving, rhythmic pressure. Words that sounded like ‘so good!’ hissed from each thrust, then ‘pet, beloved,’ then ‘but you must give me more!’ A hand at the back of his neck, forcing his face into the throat beneath the blue-eyed one... a command to bite... harder... more. The taste of something warm in his mouth. A cry of utter ecstasy, harsh, oppressive weight bearing down at the small of his back. A bitter fusion of hunger sated and wailing misery and futile, hopeless despair... irredeemable... irrevocable... utterly and undeniably worthless...

In the blankness, he wept.

“I really have to get home.”

“But pet, there is yet one more to pleasure you.”

“My parents will be worried.”

“A few more hours, surely, beloved, will do no harm.”

“They think I’m with Stephanie...”

“Ah, then all is well, it is not?”

“Cal...”

“Is it so much to ask, Sulu, to give an old man the pleasure of seeing his young god fulfilled?”

Power and mastery. He wore only a multi-colored, floor-length vest, his naked body oiled and aroused beneath it. Cal had given him a riding crop, and he held it loosely in one hand. The man before him had been unbound, and ordered to his knees. Sulu enjoyed seeing the dark head bent before him, the unruly curls falling to naked, sun-darkened shoulders. He enjoyed, too, the lines of the man’s back, strong and muscled, tapering to a thin waist and firm, rounded buttocks.

“Look at me,” he said. His voice was soft but no less a demand for being so.

The man obeyed, eyes of liquid chocolate gazing steadily at him.

“You’re mine to command,” Sulu told him.

“Yes, lord,” came the response that was obedient but not submissive. It made Sulu shudder.

“You’ll do what I tell you, with no hesitation,” he said.

“Yes, lord.”

“With no question.”

“Yes, lord.”

Sulu was almost caught in the composure of those deep brown eyes. There was no shame in them, only fierce will held by calm, knowledgeable control. They held something that was vaguely familiar, and Sulu wanted to feel it, to know that self-awareness, to have that reserve. He took a deep breath.

“Display yourself,” he said.

A brief smile touched the young man’s lips. He slowly stretched, his ribcage rising with his own deep breath, his muscled arms reaching above his head. He brought his hands down to his sides, then rubbed them along his skin to his thighs. Carefully he mas­saged the sinewed flesh, rising up on his knees, parting them, rubbing, too, the silky skin of his inner thighs. His massage moved up along his stomach, teasing through the dark hair up to his chest. He let a soft sigh escape his lips as he slowly rubbed his palms over his erect, brown nipples. Then his hands again moved down, again along his sides, this time reaching back to gently lift and squeeze his buttocks, sighing again as he thrust his hips forward with the exploration. His hands came forward, around his hips, cupping his testicles, grasping his erection to hold it out for Sulu’s inspection.

Sulu’s heart was beating hard against his chest. The sensuality was achingly intense, but he was filled with a wonder that made him humble, almost shy. He longed to understand how this man, so strong, so full of mastery, could submit to another’s whims, another’s desires - and yet, somehow he already knew.

“Touch me,” he rasped.

The man’s fingers repeated their exploration, this time of Sulu’s tense form, and much more slowly, more erotically, lingering and seductive. Sulu could feel his wonder leaving him, being replaced by the same assurance that radiated from the man before him. This man wanted to please him, wanted to arouse and excite and sate him - not for power or hunger or in desperate humiliation and pain, but for simple desire, the pleasure of giving another what was needed. And Sulu suddenly knew, as if someone had spoken the truth in his mind, that to return that desire and pleasure, he must submit to it, to command and order so that his partner could obey and please.

He smiled down at the young man, allowing his head to fill with swaggering dominance. The brown eyes met his, and he saw the approval in them, the slow nod as the man leaned forward, reverently kissing his stomach. Exultation building in him, Sulu whispered passionately:

“Suck me.”

It was a slow start, but Cal was almost glad for that. Had the intensity of the previous session continued, he knew he would have gorged himself, perhaps to the point of destroying his beloved god. Such glories were to be savored, yes, and sought after, but as a rare vintage, not an everyday wine. He knew too well that what became common soon lost all its potency. It was a mistake he had not yet been able to keep himself from making, but concern for the body of his pet could keep him from the gluttony that had always before spoiled his plea­sures. He would trust to Sulu’s timing, Sulu’s intuitions - and should Kamikaze ever fail to give enough, there was amber and stim... and limitless other ways to enhance hunger and stimulate urgency to the need for violent release.

It was best, too, that this time be controlled and dispassionate. He knew Sulu must leave his apartments. He was as yet too young to be taken in as lover... and Cal still needed time alone to plan and execute his only other source of pleasure. Later, when Kamikaze’s excesses provided him with all the thrill he needed, then he would arrange for permanent accommodations. The thought sent fire through him, quickly banked. For now, he must allow Sulu to lead a normal adolescent life and trust their sessions together to keep the edge of his hunger blunted and manageable. It would be much easier to allow his pet to leave if their parting was rich and sating rather than fire and frenzy.

Still, the need rose again within him as he watched Sulu command the whore. There was arrogance in the young face, a hint of amusement and - dare he hope? - cruelty in the black eyes. He put the whore through his paces with cool disdain, punishing insignificant lapses with harsh ferocity. Cal was delighted to see him use the riding crop given him - and with satisfying frequency. He took the whore’s body with assuredness, thrusting in power and obvious pleasure, but controlled, exacting. This was no wild ride of mindless ecstasy. Sulu knew his potency, knew his strength and authority. This was a lord’s right, a god’s due, no thought spared or caring for the wants or needs of the vassal beneath him.

This was the first step toward the indifferent omnipotence that allow would the final, dark sac­rifice Cal needed; that which alone, among all the depravities and perversions at Cal’s command, could quench his eternal thirst.

Sulu left the spartan room without a glance at the exhausted body lying on the small bed. The smile on the young man’s face, the semen staining the bed beneath him as Sulu rose was all Sulu needed to know he had pleased his partner as much as his partner had pleased him.

“Thank you, my lord,” drifted after him as the door closed, and he chuckled. He was filled with a new awe, an understanding that he knew could carry him through anything Cal would ask of him. The something disturbing that had several times now pulled at the back of his mind flared... but as with each time before, it fled when he tried to look at it, and so he determinedly ignored its faint protest. He chuckled again as he wondered what Cal’s reaction would be when he said, ‘thank you, my lord.’

He turned, nestling to the body that, having withdrawn from his, settled next to him on the large bed. He kissed the still-panting mouth, whispering the words in quiet mirth.

Dark eyes lit with mild surprise and deeply-felt devotion. “You are more than welcome, my dearest, beloved Kamikaze,” Cal said.

And Sulu smiled.

I could tell something was different the moment I saw him. His walk had a swagger to it that hadn’t been there four days ago. And when he got closer... The sunshine smile had more than a touch of night, and his eyes... there was knowledge and a new sense of - something I couldn’t define - gleaming from their ebony depths.

“Hey, Jer,” he said.

“Hey yourself. Where you been?”

His smile widened. “Where d’you think?”

The Clave. I got up from the warm grass and we started down the path to his house. “Did you miss me?” he asked teasingly.

“Like crazy. Like always.”

He rubbed his hand through my hair, as well as he could. He wouldn’t be able to do that for very much longer. At fourteen I was already as tall as he was at sixteen. He’d probably grow another inch or two, but I was sure to shoot up another six or seven. Then his fingers trailed down to the back of my neck. I didn’t know if it was on purpose but it sent shivers through me. “So when do I get to go with you?” I asked.

He studied me. His usual response to that question was a laugh and a ‘we’ll see.’ I stared back at him, hope making my heart beat faster.

“Soon,” he said.

I pressed my sudden advantage. “How soon?”

Then came the ‘we’ll see,’ but his voice held a note of promise in it. That made me shiver too.

When we reached his family’s garden, he called out, “Ma, Jer’s here!” got an, “Of course, Sulu,” from Midori. We went to the small waterfall by the garden wall farthest from the back of the house. It was almost secluded there; cool and dim even in the afternoon sun. Sulu’s great-great-great grandfather had constructed it and the years of care and weathering had made it a natural part of the landscaping.

Sulu threw himself down on the thick carpet of moss, relaxing with an audible “ahhh.” I sat down beside him, immediately dangling my bare feet in the stream of water. “What’s up?” I asked him.

“I wasn’t at the Clave,” he said.

“No? Stephanie’s?”

“That’s what Oka-san thinks.”

That gave me pause. He usually didn’t use the formal Japanese term for ‘mother.’ It meant he’d been doing something he knew she wouldn’t like. And he’d been going out with Stephanie more or less regularly for at least half a year. “Somebody new?” I asked carefully.

“You might say that.”

There was a grin that wasn’t quite impish on his face, and I scooped up a handful of water and splashed him. He sat up with an indignant sputter. “That’s for playin’ deep and dark, baby,” I told him. He laughed, bent over to splash me back, then settled down, cross-legged, next to me.

“Rio,” he said.

“De Janeiro?”

“Yeah.”

“Brazil?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s there?”

“Cal.”

He’d mentioned Cal before. An ex-racer and very rich man who gave money and shelter - and reputedly continuous wild parties - for Clavists. But there was something different in the way he said the name. “So what’s new?”

“Everything.”

There was a velvet quality to Sulu’s answer, something - sensual. For the third time in half an hour I shivered. “Details, baby,” I asked as casually as I could.

He leaned over, whispering in my ear. “Not here, not now.” Shiver number four. He straightened, eyes gleaming. “D’you want to camp out on the beach?”

“Tonight?”

“At least.”

It was my turn to study him. He was eager for it, that much was obvious. Eager for it. With that thought came realization. He looked the same as he had the first time he’d come home no longer a virgin. At least no longer a virgin with females. The thought, fed by the way he’d said an older man’s name, that he might no longer be a virgin with males turned the shivers into butterflies in my stomach and thunder in my chest. I’d never told him about the dreams I had of him... wet dreams. He already knew I was in love with him. Jesus, sometimes it felt like I’d been in love with him all my life. But desire had never really entered into it - not on his part. Or so I thought. Sure, we’d done the usual mutual masturbation sessions that all adolescent boys engaged in, but they’d stopped over a year ago when he’d taken up with the ladies. Could he really be suggesting...? I had to take several deep breaths. After all, I was about to consent to losing my virginity.

I smiled at him. “Sure, Sulu. I’ll get my gear and meet you after dinner.”

“All right,” he replied, his tone thick with anticipation. As I rose to leave, his eyes followed me. And then I recognized the unnamed something that filled the dark almonds.

Power.

“You said you wanted details.”

His voice was very close to my ear, dark and cool. We were lying on towels on the beach, only our hair still damp from the swimming that had occupied most of the early evening. It was dark now; not true night, just kind of dusky. The air was still warm, the roar of the Pacific sensual background music. I shifted slightly. He had raised himself up on one elbow and his eyes glittered at me.

“Yeah, I did,” I said.

“Cal’s place is a penthouse. He’s got screens all over the place so you’ve got to know somebody who’s been invited to get in. Once you’re in... Jer, he’s got chemicals - real Haven stuff - stashed in candy bowls all over the apartment. You can take anything you want... and Cal keeps you safe till you’re off it.”

I listened carefully to his voice. It had the sound of infatuation about it - a very painful sound for me to hear. But I shrugged it off. One thing I knew I could never be about Sulu was jealous. “So what d’you take?” I asked.

He smiled. “Amber. Cal said I’d like it. He was right.”

Amber. I’d heard of it, of course; I’d heard of most of the usual chemicals Clavists used. Had a vague idea of the effects, too. Amber was a releasing drug - an un-inhibitor. It had never occurred to me that Sulu might want one - or need one. He was always pretty uninhibited around me. “What does it do for you?”

He rolled onto his back, stretching his gorgeous, deep bronze body. He had the beginnings of an erection and I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

“This wasn’t the first time I’ve had it,” he said, “but this time... it made me feel like a god.” His gaze was fixed on the stars that were beginning to brighten overhead. “Like I could do anything - be anything. Like I was magic.”

You are magic to me, I thought. Didn’t say it out loud. Not then.

“Took it with Willow,” he continued, then paused. “And others.” His voice was a whisper. “They all responded like I was magic, too. Couldn’t get enough. The more I touched them, the more they wanted, and the more I wanted to do. I was filled with complete confidence... I knew they’d love whatever I did... and they did. We got more and more passionate, more and more savage...”

He shuddered, his erection strengthening. I’d gotten hard just listening to his voice.

“It was incredible. They loved it, screamed, begged for it, Jer. And I loved it. I was hotter than I’ve ever been and in control. Complete control.” He turned to me again. “I like being in control, Jer.”

So that was it. What amber let loose in him. He’d always had a tendency to want to be in charge - reaction against being a Japanese second son, I sup­pose. And amber let him express that desire. Power. Control. Then I heard him say, very softly, “Pain is very close to pleasure. It takes a lot of skill to control the line between them.”

I stared at him, sudden emotion making my throat very dry. I didn’t know what it was... only that I didn’t want it to go away. I felt tense, anxious, and it was all centered on Sulu. I watched, dream-like, as his hand reached out to lightly stroke my thigh. “Cal taught me,” he said. “He gave me all I needed to explore it.” His voice grew deeper, more intense. “And I got more and more caught up in it... the ferocity feels so good. I hurt them, Jer. And they loved it. So I hurt them more. It felt fierce and wild... so sweet, so hot... My touch - any touch - made them soar. Just my touch.” He enunciated each word, his caress becoming stronger, his nails scraping over my skin. I closed my eyes, trembling under his hedonism. Pain and pleasure... pain and pleasure... Did he know how roughly I handled my body when I masturbated to thoughts of him? Did he know how I dreamt of submitting to him, fulfilling his every need, catering to his every whim?

“I was inexhaustible, Jer,” his voice went on. I was mesmerized by the sound; by the feel of his nails digging ever deeper into my thigh. “They came, over and over. Each time I felt more powerful, more sure. The amber kept me going all night - all day. I ravaged them - four of them, one after another... and wanted more.”

I swallowed and managed to get the name out. “Cal?”

His body drew close to mine, his hand sliding around to my ass, pulling me up against him. “He showed me all about power and pleasure and pain,” he murmured. “He said I had a natural gift, a talent and skill to be the master. He said that talent should be fed and nurtured, that it was my due.” He pulled me forward hard, his nails biting into me, our cocks pressed tightly together. “Then,” he whispered, his words again clear and precise, “he gave me two beautiful men.”

My knees turned to jelly. Before I knew it, Sulu was kissing me, a hard, furious, passionate kiss. I clung to him, my heart pounding, my head spinning. All I could think of was that my dreams were going to come true.

He roughly pushed me away. “Let’s get to the tent,” he growled, and got up, sauntering toward it. I think I crawled after him. Once inside, he fished around in his pack and brought out a small pouch. From it he took a green capsule, then stood beside me, slipping his arms around me.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Emerald,” he said, and placed it gently between his teeth.

Sense-heightener. I shook my head. “I don’t need it,” I said, then the words came out in a rush. “I want you... anything... anyway...”

He shut me up by kissing me. And slipping the capsule in my mouth as he did so. It was warm and sweet, but all I could taste was his tongue. He reached for me, holding me close, exploring my body. I was helpless, soaring on the feel of him, nearly blind with incredulous ecstasy. When the emerald hit, I collapsed to my knees. All I wanted was to worship my bronze god, and my mouth became an adoring supplicant. I held onto his legs, trembling, kissing his thighs, his stomach, feeling his hands kneading my shoulders and the back of my neck. His fingers grasped there, pushing my more than willing lips to his cock. He thrust his hips forward, his hands guiding my inexperienced motions.

“Lick the head,” he said. I lapped at him like a cat. He tasted musky and salt-sweet. His moan was like the word of God and I became more enthusiastic. “Lick down the shaft,” came the divine command, and I obeyed. “Now my balls.” My head swam. “Take it all in your mouth.”

He moved my head back and forth, groaning as my skill increased. I glanced up at him, meeting his dark eyes. “Looks good,” he murmured and desire shot through me, the sensation magnified by emerald’s power. “Feels good, too.”

“You taste good,” I gasped. He smiled, then jerked my head forward.

“Suck me,” he growled.

I did everything I could think of that might feel good. I used my tongue, my lips; licking and kissing; long hard pulls; fast, frantic sucking; lightning swirls of my tongue, long leisurely laps. My cock was aching and I reached down to masturbate it. He grasped my wrist.

“No, Jer. Not yet.”

I groaned but obeyed him. We stayed that way for several more minutes, I on my knees before him, hard, wanting, but loving every second, sucking his beautiful, delicious cock. Then he pulled me away, his eyes on fire.

“I want to fuck you,” he said. My throat con­stricted, but I nodded mutely. “Get on your hands and knees.” I did. I could barely breathe, my heart was beating so fast. I felt his hands on my ass, kneading, stimulating. He pressed a finger against the hole. A shock of hunger seared through me. “You like that,” he whispered.

“Yes,” I managed. He pushed harder, thrusting his finger into me. I pushed back at him, wanting more.

“God, you’re tight,” he said.

“Please,” I gasped, “Sulu, please!”

“Patience, Jer.”

His finger circled inside me. He added another, twisting, dilating. I gasped and writhed, my cock jumping helplessly. A third finger was added. “Think you can take me?” he asked. I couldn’t think, couldn’t see.

“Want it...” I rasped out. “...want you...”

His fingers left me, the blunt head of his cock pressing between my cheeks. He grasped them, pulling them apart to work his cock in. It hurt and I inhaled sharply. He nudged gently, massaging, murmuring that it was all right and I should relax. Slowly, so slowly I thought I was going to faint, he eased his erection into my anus. It burned and brought tears to my eyes but my arousal didn’t fade. In fact, it became stronger. I heard my own voice sobbing, begging for more, wanting to be impaled by his strong cock. My arms trembled, my breathing hoarse. The emotions overwhelmed me. I knew that if I didn’t get him all the way in me I was going to die. I had to have him, had to be taken, possessed by him. Nothing else mattered, could ever matter... I needed him to own me.

I pleaded shamelessly with him. I wept and begged, tried to force my hips back to him. But he held me still and inched his way forward until he was completely sheathed. Tears stung my eyes. My breathing was labored, my heart thundering. He let out a long sigh, then began a withdrawal every bit as slow as his penetration had been. I shrieked at him, wanting, needing it hard and fast, nearly hysterical in my hunger. The emerald sang through me, demanding more sensation to feed it. Time ceased to have meaning as he tortured me with my need. But it was sweet torture, an exquisite timelessness and I loved him more with each passing second.

Eternity was abruptly shattered when he began moving in me with fiery savagery. I cried out my anguished relief as the intensity carried me to the heights emerald demanded. When his hand reached under me to grasp my cock I went blind with the touch. All there was in the universe was his cock in my ass, his hand pumping the shaft of my erection. When I climaxed, I lost consciousness. I’ll never forgive myself for not feeling it the first time he came in me.

When I came to, he was collapsed at my side, sated and beautiful. My body still trembled with joy and passion and I lay, just watching him, relishing the slight soreness of my ass. “I love you,” I whispered to him. “Sulu, I love you.”

He was gone when I woke up. More than a little panicked, I slipped on a pair of trunks and bolted out of the tent. I didn’t have to look far. He sat on the dunes, his knees drawn up, staring out over the Pacific.

I slowed the pounding of my heart and made myself saunter up to him.

“Hey, Sulu,” I said.

“Morning, Jer,” he murmured without even looking up.

“You want to catch a swim before breakfast?” I asked. He shook his head, his silky hair shifting across his forehead. “You hungry?” Another negative. I gently touched his arm. “You want to go back in the tent?” I said, trying to suggest without being too suggestive.

“Stop it, Jeremy,” he snapped. His tone hurt and I found myself drawing away from him. He looked at me then, and sighed. Before I knew it, he’d pulled me into his arms, his legs unfolding only to refold around me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear. His embrace grew suddenly very tight. “I’m sorry.”

I shrugged - as well as I could within his near-stranglehold. “People’re entitled to be testy in the morning,” I told him. “You should see my father before coffee.”

“No... not for...” Sulu began. He buried his face against my neck. “Last night.”

That hurt worse than his tone had. I pulled out of his arms. “You’re sorry?” I rasped.

His eyes were desperate. “I hurt you... drugged you...”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Didn’t he know how badly I’d wanted him, without emerald’s unnecessary help? “Sulu... I’m not sorry. I wanted it, I wanted you. I love what we did, how you made me feel.” My voice got softer, and I couldn’t make myself meet his gaze. “I love you.”

I heard him sigh again. “So you said, babe.”

This time I looked at him. “It’s true.”

He glanced away. “I know.”

Suddenly I knew what was wrong, and I knew it would always be wrong. It was plain on his face, in his eyes, in the way he was reacting. And it was a pain I knew I’d never be free of. But I took a deep breath, needing to get it said and out of the way, hoping upon hope that it wouldn’t have to change this new aspect of our relationship.

“And you don’t love me.”

His eyes flashed with anguish. “I care about you, Jer, you know that,” he said miserably. “We’re friends, like brothers, we always will be.” His hand tentatively touched my face. “I hope we can be lovers. But love...? I’m sorry. What I feel... it just isn’t the same.”

I nodded, trying to swallow. “It’s all right,” I managed. “It doesn’t have to be. Does it?”

His gaze searched my face. “You have to tell me,” he returned.

I thought about it. Could I love him, knowing he didn’t love me? Could I be his lover, knowing I’d never be his partner? And even if I couldn’t, could I give up the joy I’d had last night? Never to feel his arms around me, his lips on mine; never to feel the power in his body, the magic of his touch...

Never to show him how much I loved him.

That decided me. I’d take what I could get, and rejoice in it, content with being able to love him. Because I knew, even then, that I’d never love anyone else.

I took his hand, kissing it. “I love you,” I said. “Just let me love you and it’s all that matters.”

He smiled a little sadly, and on impulse I leaned forward, kissing him on the mouth, a hard, long, wet kiss. I held it until his body started responding in very interesting ways. When I broke it, all the sadness was gone from his smile.

“About that going back to the tent...” he said. I was up and heading to it before he finished the sentence.

“Because, my glorious, exquisite, most vital of divinities; because I love you.”

The figure in the control room carefully sorted the thought, placing it into the memory bank most appropriate. Deliberately, delicately, he slowly darkened a screen, just as he brightened another. There was no jolt, no loss of continuity... subtle, easy shifting from this to that, with no blending of those things that must remain separate.

And in the darkness, the cry echoed back upon itself, silent and unheeded: I love you!

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