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Relying on the Devil

Brolath shoved the door of the hotel room in, slamming it shut immediately behind him, caring not that it felt like the entire wing of the building quaked. Regulians were a passionate race and the occasional burst of anger was to be expected where their nobility gathered.

Huffing and stomping around the darkened room, Brolath caught a glimpse of his shadow in a tall mirror and roared, baring his fangs impotently.

He wanted to smash something, anything. He felt helpless and a Regulian that felt helpless was a dangerous beast. There was nothing more humiliating than feeling like the weakest Regulian around, even weaker than a human.

If only Frontus were here, I’d cave his snout in!

Roaring once again at his shadow, Brolath wound up his arm and was about to strike when delicate fingers wrapped around his bicep, massaging his short fur gently.

“My dear lion,” Leon whispered softly, “smell my neck.”

Brolath snarled, refusing to turn around.

“Smell it!”

Leon grabbed the Regulian by the mane and firmly encouraged the Regulian, who did not resist very strongly, to turn around and press his nose against the human’s pale neck.

Instantly, Brolath felt a calming sensation waft through his nostrils and the anger dulled, though it did not vanish. Brolath wrapped his tail around the butt of the human, holding him close.

This human is special…

“Now then...” Leon pecked the Regulian on the bridge of his stout muzzle, “...let me fix my strong lion a drink and you tell me what happened.”

Brolath eyed the human’s naked rear as he stepped over to the bar counter, flipping open a cabinet and revealing a massive collection of liquor, both domestic and inter-solar.

“Something Regulian?” Leon peered back, flashing a smile at Brolath’s gaze. “Or human?”

“Hrm...” Brolath growled, “...I’ve got an appetite for human right now.”

“Something sweet?”

Brolath curled his tongue as he sat down on the bed, “Regulians can’t taste sweetness.”

“Bitter?”

“Yeah,” Brolath’s throat rumbled as he thought, “or salty.”

“Salty...” Leon repeated.

Flipping a cocktail shaker onto the counter, Leon pulled out a jar of olives and a bottle of human gin. Skewering two olives on a toothpick, he plunked them into a conical glass and began pouring olive brine and gin into the shaker with ice.

With a few strong shakes and a dramatic flip into the air, Leon poured out the cocktail into the glass, stepped towards Brolath and bowed, offering it.

“My lion,” Leon whispered, “your servant wishes to offer you a libation.”

Patting Leon on the head, Brolath took the drink and smelled seawater, “Fix yourself one too.”

“I’ll stick to vin, thank you,” Leon smiled as he popped open a bottle of red wine and poured himself a glass, “Dirty Martinis taste like ocean water to most humans.”

“What’s wrong with ocean water?” Brolath asked.

“It’s perfectly fine for swimming, but not so much for drinking!” Leon swirled his glass as he sat down on the bed next to Brolath, leaning his head on his shoulders.

“There’s only a few oceans on Regulus Prime,” Brolath said, “drinking seawater is both delicious and its a traditional remedy.”

Leon chuckled, “If you ever purchase a human, please don’t make them drink seawater.”

Brolath snorted and rubbed Leon by the chin, “You’re so fragile and helpless.”

“I don’t feel helpless, not with you around.”

“The strong must take care of the weak,” Brolath curled the tip of his tail as his confidence grew.

“What shall we toast to?” Leon asked, peering down at his glass, swirling his tapered fingers around it’s rim.

“You name it, I’ll toast to it.”

“To good times!” Leon raised his glass and clinked it against Brolath’s.

Brolath took a swig of the salty cocktail, finding it to taste quite similar to the waters of the Aarloth Ocean back home, with a slight bitter twinge from the gin.

Licking his lips, Brolath spoke, “Excellent choice in drink, Leon.”

“Did you expect otherwise, my lion?” Leon took a sip of wine, staining his pink lips red.

“Everything about you...” Brolath leaned forward and gave Leon a lick across the cheek, “...is in good taste.”

“As is my lion,” Leon tapped the rim of Brolath’s glass, “except for his taste in cocktails.”

“Clearly our tastes are superior if we can drink water straight from the sea.”

“Care to try a sip of my vin without a filter pill then?” Leon smirked with a coy look in his eyes.

Brolath frowned, staring at that poisonous cup of fermented grape juice. The feeling of helplessness crept back into his spine along with all of the bad thoughts from before, though he dared not unleash it on his precious human. Brolath’s eyes wandered away from the human, staring at the mirror once again.

“It helps to talk about it, my lion,” Leon ran his fingers through Brolath’s mane, “to soothe the pain, even if the pain is still there.”

“You wouldn’t understand...”

Brolath flashed his gaze back at Leon, whose eyes leaked a short twinge of solemn regret that even Brolath could catch in the human’s body language, before quickly covering it up with a friendly grin.

In that brief moment, Brolath thought about his human, Leon, and what he must have gone through. He couldn’t have been more than a child during the annexation and even if it had been for the greater good, he no doubt witnessed something that no cub should have witnessed.

Nor would anyone willingly wish to work the streets, catering to visiting nobles wishing for a quick fuck from a local, all the while living in the squalor and chaos of the Autonomous Zone.

Better to be a slave than this…

“The mission is not going well...” Brolath sighed and lapped at his drink, “…we’ve lost contact with the human and our only lead about his whereabouts turned out to be a bust.”

Pausing, Brolath downed the drink and ripped off the olives from the toothpick, crunching them greedily. He pointed towards the bar and Leon wordlessly set to making another Dirty Martini.

“Frontus, the Claw Agent we’re working with, he gave us the lead and when we got back he just smirked and said...” Brolath sneered and pitched his voice as high as he could in a scratchy attempt at imitating the Sirian’s whiny voice, “...that’s too bad! We’re working on a lead right now, I’ll let you know how it goes! Top secret Claw sources, protected by the Invisible Doctrine! Feel free to ask the Emperor if you want us to disclose it!”

And the Emperor right now is a mental wreck, for all I know if I call him he’ll have another heart attack.

Leon passed a fresh drink to Brolath and the Regulian scratched the human behind his round ears.

“We’re just waiting here, at the mercy of the Claw!” Brolath grumbled. “We have nothing to work with and can’t do anything but wait for them to take credit for our work or worse...”

“I think I understand,” Leon whispered, “it’s the lack of control? Feeling like you’re a mere puppet?”

“Yeah...” Brolath nodded, “...I’m surprised you understand.”

“Being bossed around by kitty cats from outer space since I was a child? Do you really think it’s such a surprise?” Leon rolled his eyes. “Hell of a way to ruin a family trip.”

Brolath’s ears shifted back and he stared down at his drink, dipping his claw in and watching the surface ripple, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. It couldn’t have been easy, even...”

Brolath cut himself off before he had a chance to begin the apologetics for the Empire. It seemed wrong right now.

“It’s okay,” Leon kissed Brolath on the cheek, “stubborn men are cute, in their own way.”

“You think I’m cute?” Brolath sniffed at the human.

“But of course, you are my lion!” Leon rubbed the tip of his nose up against Brolath’s. “My favorite client.”

Client.

He is not your human.

Swallowing, Brolath continued, “How do you deal with it? This feeling of powerlessness?”

“You just take whatever you can and focus on that,” Leon draped his arms over Brolath’s burly shoulders, “I’m not out in the rain, I have this nice hotel room, and a warm lion to snuggle up with...why focus on the bad things I cannot control? Perhaps the Lacertans will drop a bomb on us right now and there’s nothing we can do about it, why dread it?”

“I’ve always had to stay one step ahead to stay alive in my career...”

“And for now, you have no steps left. You’ve been walking awhile, why not treat yourself?” Leon asked. “Would I love for Earth to be free from the Regulian yoke, certainly, but I cannot wish for that overnight so I will enjoy whatever I can get from it.”

“That’s treasonous talk...”

“Then lets make sweet treason together, my dear lion,” Leon grabbed a leather-bound booklet from the nightstand, “and charge all the room service you desire to the Empire.”

“That is an incredibly irresponsible use of government funds,” Brolath attempted to snatch the booklet away from Leon but the human quickly rolled away.

“Fine dining, champagne, massages, phew!” Leon flipped through the books. “They’ve got slaves on call from one of the finest brothel chains in Europe! I’m afraid if you call them, you might not desire me anymore!”

“That would never happen!” Brolath pounced atop the human and pinned him down.

“Lions and Regulians...you cannot content yourself with one mate, you are so sexually vigorous,” Leon ground his thigh up against Brolath’s sheath, “don’t worry, I’m not jealous, in fact, it could be quite fun.”

“The Emperor...”

In all your years in his service, has he ever denied your expenses?

“...is far away on Regulus Prime and you’re inches away from the phone,” Leon tilted his nose towards the black phone on the nightstand. “So go on, live a little!”

“You are listening to Radio Free Earth,” the tiny radio, the only other source of entertainment Abel was allowed in his room aside from the television locked on porn, crackled. The voice tried its best to sound human but it hissed like a cartoonish depiction of a Lacertan would, making it very clear that no humans were involved in this production.

“Why do you still fight for your Regulian slavers, humans? While you fight for a war you stand to gain nothing from, the Emperor is fucking your sister. Why do you not accept the glory of the benevolent scale? We once ruled your planet in peace and prosperity, you called us dragons. Under us, humanity could prosper again and we can spawn a new glorious race of Draconic-Humans!”

Between all of the sexual lessons he had received at the brothel, Abel had taken new interest in listening to this radio station. It was clearly repeated somewhere on Earth but Abel wasn’t quite sure if it was an exceptionally bad Lacertan piece of propaganda that the Regulians allowed to pass through the Extranet and broadcast on local satellite radio or if it was a Regulian psy-op to make the Lacertans look desperate.

Hell, maybe it was an AI the Lacertans had made? Its broadcasts were quite repetitive and there seemed to be some kind of algorithm to them. Each show had to include one reference to a Regulian official, celebrity, or even a cartoon character fucking one of your relatives.

But no, Abel would have put his money down on it being a Regulian operation. It seemed very different from the broadcast he got on the airplane, which seemed almost convincing compared to this buffoonery.

The door slid open and Ruhan entered, a floral-patterned robe covered up the Equuleian’s thick muscles as he sat down on the bed next to Abel and hugged him.

“You’re going to have your first client in a bit.”

Abel felt cold and Ruhan tightened his embrace.

“It will be okay, they screen clients very well here,” Ruhan whispered, “he’s a Sirian, very handsome and quite nice, he also won’t be very big.”

Abel struggled to speak but could not.

“Hey, it’ll be okay...”

“I’m fine,” Abel swallowed, “I’ve just never...I never expected my first gay experience to be...”

“Hey, what about our lessons?”

Smiling, Abel remembered all the times Ruhan taught him the basics of handjobs and blowjobs, how to keep a straight face during the act…

“You’re right,” Abel whispered, “you were an excellent first.”

“There we go,” Ruhan nuzzled Abel’s cheek, “if you feel scared or uncertain, just think about our time together and before you know it, it will be over and I’ll be back, waiting to listen to anything you want to say.”

“Thank you.”

“Now get cleaned up and put some Sirian musk on you,” Ruhan lightly punched Abel on the shoulder as he got up and began to leave, “you smell like a sweaty Equuleian!”

Truthfully, Abel didn’t need to be told that, he had already known the benefits of applying the appropriate scent when dealing with aliens. In fact, back when he had infiltrated the office back in Ralothburg, he was wearing just a tiny dab of Regulian testicle musk to give off a slight wave of authority but not enough to make it obvious he was wearing an alien scent. It was a challenge getting the quantity right, being a human, but the results had been fantastic.

So Abel already knew how to apply the scent without making him smell like he was sprayed by a Sirian in heat and thus a bit too overtly sexual for the client.

Abel couldn’t help but flash his eyes at the bed-board, looking at the button hidden behind it.

If anything goes wrong, security will be there in five seconds.

“...the highest caste of dragons is the Golden Dragon and they ruled Earth from-”

Abel flipped the radio off, deciding it was not exactly a turn-on for whatever client he was to see, and laid down on the bed, exposing himself for the client as soon as he entered.

Doubt flashed through Abel’s mind but he pushed it aside. He had to do this, for both the Resistance and the Regulians, as contradictory as it sounded.

God, when did my life become such a joke?

The door squeaked open and Abel craned his head up to see the guest, his blood instantly running cold.

Standing there in the doorway, with his golden locks of fur and droopy ears, was Frontus. He was wearing a sleazy-looking red smoking jacket and grinning lustfully at the human.

“Quite the catch you are,” Frontus slid the door shut and padded around the bed, black nose twitching as he examined the human, “such a fine piece of human ass.”

If the Sirian had recognized him, he didn’t show it and Abel could not hide his confusion.

“First time with a male, they said?” Frontus chuckled, pinching the head of Abel’s cock until it started to hurt. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel so good you won’t want another.”

Abel hissed as the Sirian’s claws released their grip on his cock. As the pain subsided, Abel began to speak, “Front-”

“You can call me Top Dog,” Frontus let the smoking jacket fall to the ground, exposing his slim body covered in silky fur and a slender cock tucked into a sheath, “feel free to call me a filthy dog or some other human slurs as well, it’s quite exhilarating hearing your kind try to resist.”

“Top Dog, don’t-”

“No talking, not now,” Frontus admonished, miming a crack of a whip, “I want you to close your eyes and pretend to sleep. Imagine you’re a tired slave, sleeping in his quarters as peacefully as he can. Little does he know, his owner is going to crawl into bed with him and knot him. I’ll be the owner, so keep your mouth and eyes shut until I wake you.”

“We kn-”

“By the Emperor!” Frontus slapped his face. “This is why you’re a species of slaves, you’re too dumb to listen to orders unless they’re expressed in grunts! Lay down. Close eyes. Wait or you get whip. Big whip. Much pain.”

Abel took a quick glance at the kink screen mounted on the door which proudly proclaimed that Frontus had indeed paid for the Pain Props Package and had every right to whip him so long as it was with a certified brothel whip that hurt like hell but would not leave a mark or break the skin.

And Frontus just happened to be standing in front of the cabinet that housed them, which was automatically unlocked when the package was purchased.

It was better to comply for now, Abel decided. Either Frontus didn’t know who he was, perhaps the Sirian had trouble telling humans apart and Abel was wearing a foreign scent to him; or this was all part of some plan.

As Abel closed his eyes, he heard the Sirian slowly pad away to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Opening his eyes, Abel scanned the kink screen once more and was relieved to find that aside from the Pain Props Package, it was quite vanilla. There is a stereotype in porn that Sirians have a watersports fetish and thankfully Frontus had not purchased the Tertiary Sexual Fluids Package, so Abel could hit the panic button if he tried it.

He was in there for quite some time and was dead silent until Abel heard the toilet flush, followed by Frontus washing his paws. Abel closed his eyes once again, laying still and waiting for the Sirian to emerge.

The door opened and shut. Frontus was silent as he crept towards him, Abel only being able to sense his presence getting closer. The only noise Abel heard was a plastic bag crinkling, probably held some grooming and hygienic products the Sirian kept, Abel figured.

Hot breath wafted around Abel’s face along with deep pants. Saliva dripped from Frontus’ tongue onto Abel’s face as the Sirian crawled atop him. He was staring at him, sniffing and panting, savoring Abel’s scent like a fine piece of art.

Finally, that wet tongue of his slapped across Abel’s face and Abel’s eyes flickered open, finding the Sirian staring down at him from across his long snout.

“Hello, slave,” Frontus grinned.

“Top Dog!” Abel repressed a shudder and perhaps a chuckle as well. The whole setup was so ridiculous, but oddly enough the cheesy nickname helped separate Frontus from the disgusting Claw Agent Abel knew. It would make things a bit easier, perhaps. “What are you doing here?”

“Breaking in my latest purchase,” Frontus grabbed a remote from the nightstand and pressed a button, turning the television on which happened to be broadcasting a Vulpeculan Ecstasy Choir singing while pleasuring each other.

The shrill yips of pleasure rang through Abel’s ears as Frontus leaned in close, his warm, wet nose probing the rim of his ear.

“I’m going to take care of you, Abel,” Frontus whispered, “I’ll help get you back into contact with Brolath but first…”

That long tongue of Frontus slicked against Abel’s ear.

“...They’re going to check you over after your first time...” Frontus whispered, “...and I think it might be a bit fun to have a little fuck, hm?”

As slimy as the Sirian was, Abel had to admit he had a point. Ruhan had mentioned that they would inspect him for any injuries and they would surely notice if he had failed to perform anal, which, as the kink screen stated, Frontus was going to knot his anus.

“So...” Frontus nipped Abel on the chin lightly, saliva trailing from his black lips as he pulled back, “...lets see what my slave is made of.”

Try as Abel might, he could not fully disassociate Frontus from the same Sirian who had tormented him in the Claw Headquarters. Abel tried to imagine him as some other Sirian and focus on his objective qualities: Frontus was very handsome in a pretty sort of way. His fur felt as silky as it looked when it brushed up against Abel’s bare skin and when Abel closed his eyes, he could easily imagine a different alien kissing him.

But that all went away when Frontus roughly entered Abel’s ass, forcefully pushing past his defenses as Abel gritted his teeth in pain. This was indeed the same Claw Agent who made him march naked in an office and forcefully felt him up and kissed him.

Abel wasn’t even sure if he was intentionally trying to cause him pain, as it quickly faded while the Sirian began to slowly thrust, it seemed it was just his nature to be callous and uncaring.

Frontus growled, snarling as his red cock thrust in and out of Abel’s ass. Abel felt his own cock begin to rise and stiffen. Ruhan warned him this could happen and that it was perfectly normal to get aroused even when having sex with an unpleasant client. It did not mean anything, most of all that it didn’t mean you enjoyed it, and you were to just pretend the client did a good job if they mentioned it.

Ruhan is so nice…

Abel attempted to imagine the Equuleian taking him instead, which had not been part of their practice due to size impracticalities. For a split-second, Abel could feel the strong horse pinning him to the bed and shoving that massive flared cock of his up his ass, whispering comforting words into his ears…

All of that was ruined by Frontus barking and howling, spraying drops of slobber on Abel’s face. He wasn’t paying enough attention to Top Dog and he noticed.

“Stop!” Abel cried out in a lame attempt at sounding helpless as he planted his palm across Frontus’ nose. “I won’t let some filthy dog fuck me!”

Abel squished Frontus’ nose back, pulling back his lips to reveal his fangs just moments before the Sirian snapped at his hand lightly, biting just hard enough to hurt.

“Looks like you need some more training,” Frontus grinned happily, no doubt turned on by a bit of fight from the human.

Frontus grabbed Abel by both wrists and lunged his face forward, barking and snapping his teeth in front of Abel’s face. At no point during this did Frontus cease his powerful thrusts and Abel found himself wincing like a submissive slave before the Sirian. Abel was not sure how much of an act it was.

“Worthless...” Frontus pounded, striking Abel in the prostate and forcing a gasp, “...fucking...” drool dripped from Frontus’ fangs as he snarled, “...slave!”

In accordance with the rules of the brothel, Frontus reached into the nightstand drawer and draped a cushioning glove over his paw. Abel closed his eyes right before a loud crack slapped across his cheek. Frontus quickly followed up with a backhand across the other.

There was only a tiny bit of pain but the loud crack of the glove made it sound worse than it was. Whatever it was made of, Abel could have handled being slapped around a whole day by Frontus with it on.

“How do you like that?” Frontus sneered before cracking Abel across the cheek again with a relatively painless slap.

Something was swelling up in Abel’s ass while Frontus worked him over. It was either the greatest bane or blessing of letting a Sirian, Lupiad, or Vulpeculan fuck you; depending on who you asked.

The copial knot grew and as it stretched Abel’s anus, pain began to grew. The human body was not meant to contain something so large there, but eventually the pain started to fade and Abel grew used to the lock. In fact, he found it quite enticing, were it not attached to the most reprehensible Sirian he knew.

And of course, Abel had been instructed in what came next: warm spurts of semen flooded Abel’s insides and Frontus relented in his slaps, howling up at the ceiling until his cock shuddered one final time and he collapsed atop Abel’s chest, tongue drooping out as he panted.

“Hope you enjoyed that present, Abel,” Frontus whispered before giving the human an almost friendly lick on the cheek.

It was only moderately unpleasant, Abel thought quietly.

“We’ll be locked like this for quite some time,” Frontus smiled and reached off to the side, “isn’t that nice?”

“Yes, Top Dog.”

There was a rustle of plastic and Abel peered over to the nightstand. Frontus pulled out a bright-red capsule from a plastic baggy.

“Don’t worry, I’ll comfort you until it’s all over.”

Frontus pulled Abel’s mouth open and Abel immediately sprang into defense, shoving his palm against Frontus’ snout and trying to grab his arm holding the pill. Abel tried to mash his teeth together but the Sirian had his jaw lodged open.

“Don’t fight it, it will be painless, Abel,” Frontus hushed, “no more war or pain, and you get to go to sleep with a handsome Sirian. In old Sirian myths, a lover who dies while tied to his mate will meet them again in the afterlife, something to look forward to...”

The silent alarm! Abel pictured the big red button hiding behind the bed and knew he needed to push it, but the Sirian was stronger than he looked and if Abel used one hand to lunge for it, Frontus would overpower him.

After a failed attempt to free his legs and kick Frontus ending with the Sirian digging his knees into the human’s legs and laughing, Abel threw caution to the wind, slapped Frontus across the snout and slapped the button while the Sirian was stunned.

“How dare you!” Frontus growled and forced the pill down Abel’s throat.

Closing up Abel’s mouth and holding his nose shut, Frontus rubbed at the human’s throat, whispering soothing words.

“That’s it...just let it happen...”

Dread filled Abel’s heart as he felt the smooth pill slip down his throat.

“Good human...” Frontus sneered, “as promised, I will keep you company until the en-”

Frontus was interrupted by the door crashing in and two huge humans with shaved heads charged in, wielding steel batons.

“I paid for this slut! Get ou-!”

Once again, the Sirian was interrupted, this time by getting cracked atop the head with a baton. The Sirian’s mouth went agape, shocked by the outrage more than the pain, and his tongue lolled out. He was still for a several seconds before falling forward, face collapsing on Abel’s chest.

“What did he do? Are you hurt?” one of the humans called out. Abel could hardly hear it, it sounded so faint.

For all Abel knew, he was already dead. There was no time to think, no time to talk. He had only one hope and perhaps it was already too late.

Shifting his head down, Abel opened his mouth and guided Frontus’ thing snout into his mouth. The Sirian was still breathing, his hot, rancid breath wheezing against the back of Abel’s throat, forcing Abel to gag.

He needed more than a gag though. Abel continued to fellate the Sirian’s snout deeper, until he felt his nose squish up against the back of his throat.

The humans demanded to know what the hell Abel was doing, but Abel was in no position to reply. His last meal came rushing up and he shoved Frontus to the side.

Leaning over the edge of the bed, a torrent of vomit came out. Abel couldn’t see it after it splattered against the ground, his vision was growing dim.

“...too late…?” Abel choked as another rush of vomit spewed out.

“Hey! Stay with me!” one of the humans shouted, seemingly from miles away.

Sweat poured down Abel’s brow and he began to burn. He was dying, he knew it. He was too late.

Don’t want to die like this...not here...not like this…

All feeling left Abel’s limbs. It was over.

Please...help me...anyone…

Abel retched weakly only last time, a small puddle of vomit trailing out before he was reduced to dry retching. There was nothing left to evacuate.

Father...help me...Yin…

Abel couldn’t hold himself up anymore and collapsed onto his side, unable to move.

I’m sorry...I’m sorry...