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Teeth-Clenched Teamwork

“Do the planet a favor,” Brolath snarled at the green Lacertan, rifle aimed straight at the Regulian’s heart, “terminate yourself and spare the humans the wrath of the Empire.”

“On your belly, cat,” the Lacertan said, rolling the barrel of his gun in a circle. “Paws behind your back.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” Brolath growled lowly but complied.

After getting on his belly, he crossed his arms just above the base of his tail. A second set of boots thumped on the dirt and Brolath turned his head to the right, catching a glimpse of obsidian scales flickering in the moonlight before vanishing out of sight.

“If you just behave and answer some of our questions...” the black Lacertan grunted as he bent down and threaded Brolath’s paws through hard plastic cuffs before zipping them shut, “...you can go on home, no fuss, no muss. Maybe we can even be friends, you know? Wouldn’t that be beautiful?”

“Fuck you, abomination,” Brolath snorted, blowing dirt across the ground with his nose.

The green one’s feet scuffled on the dirt and Brolath heard a palm slap against the green one’s combat armor.

“Hey now, Asha, let him growl and roar, no need for violence,” the black one hissed lightly before circling around Brolath and kneeling before him. The black Lacertan was scrawnier with a pale white stretch of scales leading from his chin down to his chest. “Sorry about that, my Regulian friend, but we have a few questions to ask you.”

Good Guard, Bad Guard. Classic interrogation routine. Even a rookie Guard working for the poorest Duchy in the Empire wouldn’t fall for this one.

“You mentioned Abel earlier, why are you chasing him?” the black Lacertan darted his tongue out.

Counter-Interrogation’s prime defense against this is to fake the emotions the enemy wants you to feel and give them false information after a token display of resistance. This wastes the enemy’s time and gives you enough time away from the interrogator to plan an escape.

But that won’t work, I’ve already called them abominations. There is absolutely no way a Regulian would fall for the Good Guard bit when used by a Lacertan.

“I’m not talking,” Brolath said.

The black Lacertan blinked slowly and titled his head to the side.

He’ll give one more attempt at reconciliation.

“Look, I just want everything to be chill between us. No hard feelings, we just care about Abel’s well-being and when we see a Regulian chasing after him, well...that worries us.”

Any moment now the other one, Asha, will get in my face and yell or he’ll beat me a bit. The black one will apologize and say that he can’t control him.

Sighing, the black one snapped his fingers, “Asha, you know what to do.”

He’s giving the green one the order to beat me? Strange…

The black one stood up, the underside of his tail running along Brolath’s nose. The smell of microchips and metal was all over the lizard, a synthetic smell for a synthetic race. It made Brolath’s stomach turn.

Shutting his eyes, Brolath waited for the beating. Heavy boots stepped around Brolath before stopping before his face. Brolath could smell Asha growing closer, leering over his face.

The beating did not come and Brolath slowly opened his eyes.

Asha was running a finger along the inside of his mouth, just past the sharp daggers lining his gums.

“Really, we prefer not to do this, it’s really not our kind of thing,” the black one said behind Brolath. “You’re gonna act a little funny but if you answer our questions we won’t do anything more.”

“What the hell are you-”

Asha suddenly grabbed Brolath’s mouth with both hands and pried his jaw open. The finger he had been covering in saliva earlier touched the roof of Brolath’s mouth and a sudden warmth ran through his mouth and face. His muscles began to relax and his heart raced. For a moment, Brolath thought he was having a heart attack from the creature’s foul venom but something far worse began to happen.

His cock poked at the inside of his trousers, having suddenly escaped from his sheath. It had to be some kind of allergic reaction, Brolath thought, but then he looked up at Asha.

Despite the darkness, Asha’s emerald scales were shimmering like gemstones. His body was perfectly sculpted, like the homoerotic statues of the early days of the Regulian Empire, but no, far more handsome than even those pinnacles of masculinity.

Brolath tried to look away but he was entranced by the Lacertan. He wanted to rub his face and nose against him, to gently lick him after a hard day, to hold paws and watch the sunset together.

To make love.

“Sorry we had to do that,” the black Lacertan knelt down and scratched Brolath behind the ear. The sensation was incredible and Brolath began to drool. “Now then, why are you chasing after Abel?”

“I want him...” Brolath ground his thigh against the dirt, “...I want him...”

“Another oversexed and domineering Regulian,” Asha muttered. “Lashar, this is...”

Brolath licked the drool away from his lips, desperately wishing to taste another drop of Asha’s venom. More than that, he wanted the Lacertans to make love to him, taboo be damned. Lashar, the black one, reached into Brolath’s coat and his knuckle brushed up against one of Brolath’s nipples, sending a jolt across his body.

Take it off...make love to me…

“Look here,” Lashar suddenly withdrew his hand from Brolath’s coat, flashing a badge. “He’s Regulian Guard.”

Lashar tossed the badge to Asha, who caught it and ran his claws along the etchings on the badge.

“Tell you what,” Lashar scratched Brolath’s ear again and the Regulian went limp with pleasure, “you tell us more about why a Guard is tracking down our favorite human and my Captain here, well, he’ll give you what you want.”

Brolath clenched his thighs together as his cock ached.

There were no thoughts of duty in his brain now, only lust.

“Why were you really tracking Abel down?” Asha asked.

“He’s...” Brolath’s voice rasped as a part of his brain tried to resist. It would not last long before his cock overrode his brain, “...he’s working for us...”

Asha reached out and gently scratched Brolath’s chin with his claws, “In what way?”

“Informant, spy...” Brolath licked Asha’s scaled hand, it was cold to the touch. “...he’s infiltrating a rebel group that might be making a weapon to...”

Brolath stopped and began licking Asha’s hand uncontrollably as he ground his thighs together.

“Please...I need...” Brolath whined.

“In a minute...” Asha leaned forward and licked Brolath on the nose. Brolath immediately licked his nose and felt the warm sensation of the venom run across his tongue, “...what kind of weapon?”

“Modified smart antibiotics...we believe they’re making a weapon that will target specific species and...” Brolath gasped as Asha stopped scratching and firmly gripped his throat, “...spread and reproduce via gas.”

“Captain,” Lashar spoke softly, “do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“Without a doubt,” Asha continued to grip Brolath’s neck. He did not have enough strength to harm the thick Regulian’s neck but it was enough to give a sense of submission and arousal in Brolath, “whether it’s true or not, he believes it.”

“Before the Regulians fucked everything up, humans were advancing fast, probably a few scientists from back in the day hiding with nothing better to do than plot alien genocide,” Lashar sighed. “Regulians hate anything that they can’t control but if humans were able to make the Smart Antibiotics reproduce rapidly...”

“And the Regulian has said they already know of airborne varieties…”

“We can’t let the Regulians get their paws on it,” Lashar shook his head.

“Logos would want it.”

“Logos would agree its destruction is needed if we have no chance of returning with it.”

“Agreed.”

“So, kitty,” Lashar stroked Brolath’s mane, “you got a vehicle? We heard a lift-copter not too far away from here.”

“F-first, like you said,” Brolath thrust his hip against the dirt, “I-I want...”

“To the lift-copter first and then...”

Asha trailed off and grabbed Brolath by the cuffs, lifting his wrists. The Regulian took the hint and eagerly, though clumsily, climbed to his feet. Thoughts of what the Lacertans were going to do to him swam in his head.

Brolath’s trousers were swollen with his fat cock which made marching with his paws behind his back quite difficult. Every step seemed to edge him closer and closer to orgasm but it was never quite enough and the Lacertans showed no interest in helping him relieve himself yet.

How he desired both of them...to feel those smooth scales run along his cock. To worship their exotic cocks...to submit to his people’s greatest foes…

Brolath’s brain suddenly went cold.

To debase myself by getting fucked by a lizard!

Stomach churning, Brolath suddenly leaned over and vomited.

“Aw, fuck,” Lashar cursed, grabbing Brolath by the cuffs and stopping him from falling over in a pile of his own vomit, “looks like the Eros-3 flushed through his system!”

“Should I give him more?” Asha asked. “He seemed more eager than most to make love.”

Brolath’s ears folded back at hearing this and another clump of vomit shot out of his throat and onto the ground.

“No, that’s fine. I think I like him better this way anyways,” Lashar snorted. “Got a little too creepy seeing how hungry he was for Lacertan cock.”

“Agreed, Abel is more my type.”

Spitting one last time, Brolath turned and growled at Asha, “You touched him, didn’t you? I can smell him on you, past your rancid scent!”

“We snuggled, played with our fun parts, and he said he loved us and we feel the same way,” Lashar shrugged.

“You lie! I’ve known him for longer and you’re-”

“Filthy lizards, yes, we also are hive-minds of an AI god that your ancestors created,” Lashar snorted. “But yet he loves us and not you.”

“No, I know...he’s a human and he needs protection and...”

“It sounds like you never asked him what he wanted or who he was, you just saw him as what you wanted him to be: an ideal human slave concubine. He is not that.”

Brolath looked down at the ground, at the foul vomit.

“And you can either accept that and grow past it or you can continue to delude yourself. I personally don’t care, so long as you leave Abel alone.”

Brolath swallowed.

Not long after leaving the village, Abel was gifted a burlap sack to put over his head. It only made sense for the rebels not to trust him entirely, especially when he was an unknown, so Abel complied.

It made the long trek very boring and no one seemed particularly interested in engaging him with conversation. Not that Abel particularly wanted to with the bag over his head, it was already getting hot and sweaty enough in it without him running his mouth.

All Abel could feel was the road. It started out smooth enough, for dirt road, but soon grew rougher. The truck began to shake and were it not for one of the rebels grabbing him by the shoulder, he might have fallen out onto the ground.

Once again, he had no idea where he was going and entirely at the whims of someone else. A slave to fate.

It was ironic that Abel felt more free when held prisoner by the Lacertans.

Asha and Lashar...I hope we meet again...somehow…

“We’re here.”

Before Abel could reply, the bag was torn from his head. Abel flinched as the early morning sun blinded him. They had been driving for longer than Abel thought.

Two humans in balaclavas and camo ran past the pickup truck and began covering up the truck tracks.

Abel stood up carefully and peered past the front of the truck. There wasn’t anything more than a dilapidated farmhouse and a field with some crops growing.

The crops were enough to make it look like a normal farm on a satellite photo or to a lift-copter flying over, but even with Abel’s lack of experience on a farm, he could tell that the crops were not getting much love. Many were dried out and there was large empty spaces between crops.

Guess I expected some kind of mountain fortress with all the secrecy, Abel joked to himself.

Just as his lofty expectations were dashed, the soldier next to Abel hopped out of the truck as it slowly came to a halt. He walked around the front of the truck, knelt down and swung the butt of his AK at the dirt.

A loud metal thunk echoed as he struck it three times.

Stepping back, the ground, complete with the grass atop it, opened up before them. A hidden metal gateway swung upwards, revealing a tunnel big enough for the truck to drive in.

Abel couldn’t help but be impressed and when the pale soldier hopped back into the truck, he spoke, “I thought hideouts like this only existed in old movies.”

“We have good connections,” the soldier nodded with a stoic frown.

The truck drove down a ramp leading into the tunnel and the gate shut behind them. The tunnel was well-lit, with florescent lights hanging from the ceiling, painting the concrete tunnel with a sickening tint pale tint.

Several guards waved them through after an exchange of salutes. Many wore uniforms that Abel recognized from articles of pre-annexation militaries, most were Russian, Abel believed, but he saw others that he could not quite remember.

After one final checkpoint, they came to a point in the tunnel where it veered to the left and Abel was patted on the shoulder.

“This is where you get off, follow me,” the rebel next to him spoke.

Stepping off the truck, Abel found his legs had fallen asleep during the ride and asked for a moment to let them recover. The rebel rolled his eyes but otherwise did not object.

Once they were fully recovered, Abel nodded for the soldier to lead the way and was taken down the tunnel but then marched towards a door on the right side. The tunnel went on and the truck vanished after it turned to the right.

“Don’t shit yourself, okay?” the rebel laughed as he opened the door and stepped back.

Abel found himself gasping as he entered a massive, hollow cylinder of a room. He stepped forward, leaning on a metal balcony railing and looked down. The metal floor down several stories at the bottom had been scorched black. A series of stairs and balconies lined the round walls of the room and soldiers and scientists dressed in white coats walked along, entering and exiting attached rooms, carrying about their day.

“This is a missile silo,” Abel whispered.

“Too bad we don’t have a nuke, eh?” the soldier frowned. “It was fired during the invasion. Didn’t do a lot of good, the Regulians shot it down.”

“The Night of the Flashing Sky,” Abel sighed. “All of humanity’s most dangerous weapons swatted down like flies.”

“Not all of them.”

“Hm?”

A ding suddenly rang out behind Abel and a pair of steel elevator doors that he hadn’t noticed before slowly rolled open.

Two guards dressed in kevlar and wielding rifles stepped out, revealing a man in a wheelchair.

The first thing Abel noticed was his brown eyes, they burned with an intensity that Abel had not seen in any human before. It was enough to distract Abel from the human’s more obvious physical injuries.

He was wearing a white scarf across his head, conspicuously trailing around his forehead. Just below the fabric, in the center of his forehead, Abel saw the outline of a crater in his light brown skin.

Along with that, his arms were atrophied though he appeared to have some use of them, for his left clutched at this chest. He was in pain.

With his right hand, he flicked a stick that made his wheelchair roll out of the elevator and before Abel. He looked up slowly at Abel and those fierce eyes of his began to water.

“Rosa...” he whispered, revealing rows of jagged, broken teeth. He slowly removed his left arm from his heart and shakily reached out towards Abel.

“No, sorry, my name is Abel.”

The man must have been in his fifties or so, but due to his condition, Abel felt like he was an old man who needed help. He reached out and grabbed his hand, holding it firmly. It was almost as cold to the touch as the Lacertans.

“You have her eyes,” a tear ran down the man’s cheek. “And my brother’s cheekbones.”

Abel froze. He had to remind himself that this man was not old enough to be senile and behind those sad eyes he saw a sharp intellect just moments before.

“What are you saying?”

“I thought you were lost. When they cut your mother open...” the man bowed his head. “Please forgive your Uncle. I did not have the strength I do now.”

“Uncle?”

The man raised his head. All the tears had left his eyes and they flickered with proud joy now, “I’m your Uncle Juan, but please, call me by my new name...”

“Glass.”