The string of obscenities that Sendak spews from the bed to the couch is enough to make Matt press his lips together to hide the amused smile. Though a force of power, control and utter domination outside the bedroom, inside it the Galra commander is nothing short of petulant, especially when faced with Thace's dry, flat commentary. Still, it's bad manners for a concubine to laugh at their master -- which makes it doubly difficult when one has two.
And Matt is nothing if not well-behaved. He's had over a year to become so, guided and shaped into the perfect image of submission, grace, obedience and seduction, pristine etiquette masking unabashed sexual gratification. Druids shaped his body, the harem honed his manner and quintessence sharpened his mind into something worthy of Zarkon's best and brightest. Yes, in the beginning he'd resisted, had entertained thoughts of escape, of vengeance. Of Earth, his home, his family.
(Of Shiro, always, always of Shiro.)
His requisite one night with the Emperor had cured whatever the Druids and his rigorous training could not, however. Matt is well-versed in the myriad ways Galra approach sex -- with Thace it is a near-holy act, slow and lingering and reverent, with Sendak it's rough and animalistic and single-minded. With Zarkon it was absolutely shattering, body and mind effectively taken to pieces with a word, a look, a touch.
However, something had resisted, had remained, some uniquely human resilience present in no other species. For, long after the point where all other concubines were rendered mindless with pleasure, Matt had retained enough to pick up on the ancient Galra leader's thoughts, disjointed and vague. He wasn't a Paladin (he understood that now, having studied and learned enough about that unique mental and spiritual bond), so it wasn't as clear or coherent, more impressions than actual words. Zarkon had been thinking about who he'd bribe with Matt -- a tactical genius, a war adviser, not a commander or a battlemaster, but someone whose allegiance he needed nonetheless, the impression of features and form that Matt would later recognize as Thace.
And then, a passing thought, clear as if it had been spoken -- these humans are so like Alteans -- before Zarkon had become aware that the concubine he was enjoying was aware of his mind. Matt had tensed beneath the Emperor, anticipating anger and violence, drawing back physically, even though his every nerve ending craved touch, longed for it. But Zarkon had been amused, almost intrigued, scales warm with indulgence as he neither stopped nor slowed fucking Matt into the tangled sheets of his bed. "You have a keen mind, little one," he'd said simply, and left it at that.
That had been months before, and Matt had assumed he'd been forgotten, like any other concubine. True, his first pregnancy had been successful, the sole kit a product of that heated evening with the Emperor, healthy and strong and astounding every Druid who'd examined her. There had been no word that Zarkon was aware of this offspring, but he must have been, must have given his approval for the three following litters, all Thace's, all just as uniquely intelligent and strong.
The fifth one, the one Matt carried at that moment, nestled against Thace on the low silken couch, was both the strategist's and Sendak's -- a consolation prize, it was rumored, for the commander's unpleasant interaction with the only other humans present beyond Earth. Sendak's rage at the Paladins had shown itself in how roughly he'd taken Matt that initial breeding, snarling and relentless, brutally pounding into the much smaller human, pinning him down and forcing him to take the unfamiliar knot of a high-ranking Galra into his helpless, aching cunt.
And yet Sendak stayed. Stayed and added a third kit to the litter Matt had inside him now, stayed and snarled his objection to his concubines newest assignment. As he himself had been mentored and guided, Matt would now pass his extensive knowledge -- clever human mind having retained every Galra word, every nuance of the harem, every bit of history he read -- to the second-ever Earthling concubine.
"If he touches what's mine," Sendak was grumbling now, mechanical hand making ribbons of the bedsheets. "I'll tear his face off."]
That wasn't what I was led to believe will happen. [Matt spoke for the first time, quietly, looking down at his datapad, rather than at the more volatile of his masters, emboldened by Thace's presence at his side. Sendak wouldn't dare raise a claw to the mother of his kits, but it was still against social niceties for Matt to speak at all without being directly addressed. Thace was unique in that he encouraged it, had taught much of the conversational Galra that Matt knew, had quizzed him on history, science, technology, art. Thace had an "alien fetish" (according to Sendak), but it meant that Matt got opportunities and privileges most concubines wouldn't even dream of.
And it meant he was the logical choice to teach one of Zarkon's beloved Paladins. Which was exactly what his quiet comment was meant to remind Sendak of -- this wasn't any of their choices to make. The Emperor had commanded that Matt be the one to mentor the other human, and that was that.
Sendak snarled more elaborate curses (really, Matt needed to write those down, trace the etymology of them, keep them in mind for the next time one of the lower Galra grunts was too bold with a favored plaything of a commander and tactician), but did not speak further. Thace had his face turned into Matt's hair -- it was kept just above his shoulders, since Sendak liked pulling it and Thace preferred it short, a compromise between the two -- and his chuckle was tangible and his big hands were wandering over the soft swell of Matt's stomach and it was tempting to stay put.
But despite all his experience, despite his genuine affection for the two fathers of his kits, Matt could remember vividly his own fear and anxiety during the first few weeks in the harem. So with a parting nuzzle for Thace and a deferential near-bow for Sendak, he set out towards the lavishly decorated rooms ringing the quintessence baths, where Zarkon kept his myriad slaves and concubines.
He hadn't dressed up, hadn't followed any of the traditional rules for clothing or painting or jewels, choosing to have their first meeting be as two humans. He'd even chosen a baggy, shapeless robe, so the first thing the captured Paladin saw wasn't his swollen stomach -- that might add unnecessary pressure. Taking a slow breath, Matt came to a stop in front of the heavily guarded door (mercifully Zarkon must have communicated that he wasn't to be hindered; otherwise he likely would've been shot down several yards before) and, lifting one hand, knocked gently.]
LONGEST FCKING TAG EVER JFC
"When have you ever liked anything, commander?"
The string of obscenities that Sendak spews from the bed to the couch is enough to make Matt press his lips together to hide the amused smile. Though a force of power, control and utter domination outside the bedroom, inside it the Galra commander is nothing short of petulant, especially when faced with Thace's dry, flat commentary. Still, it's bad manners for a concubine to laugh at their master -- which makes it doubly difficult when one has two.
And Matt is nothing if not well-behaved. He's had over a year to become so, guided and shaped into the perfect image of submission, grace, obedience and seduction, pristine etiquette masking unabashed sexual gratification. Druids shaped his body, the harem honed his manner and quintessence sharpened his mind into something worthy of Zarkon's best and brightest. Yes, in the beginning he'd resisted, had entertained thoughts of escape, of vengeance. Of Earth, his home, his family.
(Of Shiro, always, always of Shiro.)
His requisite one night with the Emperor had cured whatever the Druids and his rigorous training could not, however. Matt is well-versed in the myriad ways Galra approach sex -- with Thace it is a near-holy act, slow and lingering and reverent, with Sendak it's rough and animalistic and single-minded. With Zarkon it was absolutely shattering, body and mind effectively taken to pieces with a word, a look, a touch.
However, something had resisted, had remained, some uniquely human resilience present in no other species. For, long after the point where all other concubines were rendered mindless with pleasure, Matt had retained enough to pick up on the ancient Galra leader's thoughts, disjointed and vague. He wasn't a Paladin (he understood that now, having studied and learned enough about that unique mental and spiritual bond), so it wasn't as clear or coherent, more impressions than actual words. Zarkon had been thinking about who he'd bribe with Matt -- a tactical genius, a war adviser, not a commander or a battlemaster, but someone whose allegiance he needed nonetheless, the impression of features and form that Matt would later recognize as Thace.
And then, a passing thought, clear as if it had been spoken -- these humans are so like Alteans -- before Zarkon had become aware that the concubine he was enjoying was aware of his mind. Matt had tensed beneath the Emperor, anticipating anger and violence, drawing back physically, even though his every nerve ending craved touch, longed for it. But Zarkon had been amused, almost intrigued, scales warm with indulgence as he neither stopped nor slowed fucking Matt into the tangled sheets of his bed. "You have a keen mind, little one," he'd said simply, and left it at that.
That had been months before, and Matt had assumed he'd been forgotten, like any other concubine. True, his first pregnancy had been successful, the sole kit a product of that heated evening with the Emperor, healthy and strong and astounding every Druid who'd examined her. There had been no word that Zarkon was aware of this offspring, but he must have been, must have given his approval for the three following litters, all Thace's, all just as uniquely intelligent and strong.
The fifth one, the one Matt carried at that moment, nestled against Thace on the low silken couch, was both the strategist's and Sendak's -- a consolation prize, it was rumored, for the commander's unpleasant interaction with the only other humans present beyond Earth. Sendak's rage at the Paladins had shown itself in how roughly he'd taken Matt that initial breeding, snarling and relentless, brutally pounding into the much smaller human, pinning him down and forcing him to take the unfamiliar knot of a high-ranking Galra into his helpless, aching cunt.
And yet Sendak stayed. Stayed and added a third kit to the litter Matt had inside him now, stayed and snarled his objection to his concubines newest assignment. As he himself had been mentored and guided, Matt would now pass his extensive knowledge -- clever human mind having retained every Galra word, every nuance of the harem, every bit of history he read -- to the second-ever Earthling concubine.
"If he touches what's mine," Sendak was grumbling now, mechanical hand making ribbons of the bedsheets. "I'll tear his face off."]
That wasn't what I was led to believe will happen. [Matt spoke for the first time, quietly, looking down at his datapad, rather than at the more volatile of his masters, emboldened by Thace's presence at his side. Sendak wouldn't dare raise a claw to the mother of his kits, but it was still against social niceties for Matt to speak at all without being directly addressed. Thace was unique in that he encouraged it, had taught much of the conversational Galra that Matt knew, had quizzed him on history, science, technology, art. Thace had an "alien fetish" (according to Sendak), but it meant that Matt got opportunities and privileges most concubines wouldn't even dream of.
And it meant he was the logical choice to teach one of Zarkon's beloved Paladins. Which was exactly what his quiet comment was meant to remind Sendak of -- this wasn't any of their choices to make. The Emperor had commanded that Matt be the one to mentor the other human, and that was that.
Sendak snarled more elaborate curses (really, Matt needed to write those down, trace the etymology of them, keep them in mind for the next time one of the lower Galra grunts was too bold with a favored plaything of a commander and tactician), but did not speak further. Thace had his face turned into Matt's hair -- it was kept just above his shoulders, since Sendak liked pulling it and Thace preferred it short, a compromise between the two -- and his chuckle was tangible and his big hands were wandering over the soft swell of Matt's stomach and it was tempting to stay put.
But despite all his experience, despite his genuine affection for the two fathers of his kits, Matt could remember vividly his own fear and anxiety during the first few weeks in the harem. So with a parting nuzzle for Thace and a deferential near-bow for Sendak, he set out towards the lavishly decorated rooms ringing the quintessence baths, where Zarkon kept his myriad slaves and concubines.
He hadn't dressed up, hadn't followed any of the traditional rules for clothing or painting or jewels, choosing to have their first meeting be as two humans. He'd even chosen a baggy, shapeless robe, so the first thing the captured Paladin saw wasn't his swollen stomach -- that might add unnecessary pressure. Taking a slow breath, Matt came to a stop in front of the heavily guarded door (mercifully Zarkon must have communicated that he wasn't to be hindered; otherwise he likely would've been shot down several yards before) and, lifting one hand, knocked gently.]