Part 22: Intimidation

DISCLAIMER: Nonconsensual scene(s).


Note: This item has been rewritten and edited. All text in rose is BRAND NEW MATERIAL for this chapter of the story. In addition there are many minor changes to the original text itself. Please enjoy this new, expanded version of Part 22 and be on the lookout for updates to the next parts!


NEHEKHI STARED AT his human for a good long while, yet said nothing. Ameni's silence and preoccupation bothered him, but he knew of no way to ask him what was going on without seeming intrusive, and right now, he sensed that was what Ameni needed least. His tail flicked from side to side as he sat in his chair, hands clasped between his knees, and watched the human wander back and forth before the opening out into the courtyard, staring at the pool and trees which stood outside. He looked almost as if he expected someone to show up.

He is disturbed lately. After what that dog tried to do, I suppose I should not be too surprised...

"Ameni-mate?" he called; Ameni didn't seem to hear him, just pacing back and forth, back and forth. Nehekhi's brow furrowed and he sat up. "What are you looking for out there, this late at night?"

"Nothing," Ameni murmured absently. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Are you missing your village?" When this elicited no response, he frowned. "Your friend, he who Djiu brought in...do you worry about him?"

He fell silent and stared as Ameni paced. It wasn't like him to ignore his master; rather than irritated, Nehekhi felt even more concerned. He watched him for a long while, thinking over all that had happened that day, all that he had and hadn't seen. He had left his quarters briefly to speak with Mahakhi of what had happened, and the sight of Simit there had made him uneasy. He had noticed her state when she'd returned to the meeting room, and so that hadn't bothered him so greatly; rather it was the way she looked at him when he was speaking with the general. She had seemed uneasy as well, as if being on the verge of speaking, yet had not said a word. When he'd looked directly at her, she'd turned away. Mahakhi had not noticed. Nehekhi had had to tell him of the Moru being taken off to the prisoners' cells, as Djuta had not arrived yet. As he'd walked back to his rooms, this last detail had weighed on his mind. It did so again now.

Something happened in that room. Something they are not telling me. Simit, Djuta, they do not have to tell me...but Ameni-mate...he has always told me everything. Why will he not speak to me...?

He thought about Djuta's own reaction when Ameni had started to speak with him--the look on his face, as if he had been ready to say something, yet had refrained. Just like Simit.

Something happened in that room...

"Ameni-mate...?" Nehekhi watched him pace for several moments, then sat forward slowly, again folding his hands between his knees.

"Ameni-mate...did this Moru do something to you?"

Ameni halted and his head whirled around to stare at his master, eyes wide. Nehekhi's ear flicked at the reaction; Ameni shook his head adamantly.

"No, Lord! He did not do anything to me...it was Lord Djuta he was after. He frightened me, in the Moru quarters, but that was all..."

"If something has happened, Ameni-mate, you know that you can tell me, don't you...?"

"I know, Lord...nothing happened, I swear." As if to prove himself, he turned away from the window and came back into the room, forcing as much of a smile as he could. Nehekhi felt a pang on seeing it.

He does not wish to hurt me...how much else does he hold back? How much does he hurt himself...?

"You are certain you will be all right?" he asked when Ameni came and sat down on the floor beside his chair, resting his head against the Kana's knee.

"I am, Lord. Of course. I was just worried about...about that Moru escaping, but I know everyone will be safe..."

"I doubt even a brute like he could escape the cells, Ameni-mate; yet even if he did, I will be here to protect you; you do know that?"

Ameni didn't immediately reply; Nehekhi caught the distracted look on his face before he turned away. "I do," he murmured, and stared out toward the courtyard again. The silence drew out so long between them that Nehekhi's ears rang.

"Do you know, Ameni-Moru," he at last said after a long while had passed thus; Ameni lifted his head to look up at him as the Kana stood and stretched. "I had forgotten, but I have to finish a few things that went neglected during today's events. I hope you do not mind if I take you back to the Moru quarters...Thi'usa shall be there, and Ki'amit and the rest...would you mind too terribly if I left you there for now?"

The tense look on Ameni's face lessened; he seemed almost relieved, somehow. "Of course not, Lord," he said, allowing Nehekhi to help him up. "I understand if you are busy, especially after today..."

"I hate to leave you after all of this, so soon."

"I will be fine...as you said, Thi'usa-Moru is there, and everyone else...I do not mind at all."

Nehekhi nodded, offering no more argument. Ameni spoke not at all as he was led back to the Moru quarters. The captain watched to make certain he was all right as he disappeared into the now darkened room, and the new guard bowed his head as Nehekhi turned away. He went back to his rooms, and rather than tend to any other chores left from the day, he lay on his back upon his bed, staring up at the canopy as the drapes floated on the breeze. A jackal yipped out in the desert. A crease of worry formed in Nehekhi's brow, his arms folded behind his head.

Ameni-mate...and Lord Djuta. He smells of him. He believes I did not even notice.

Why would he not tell me...? Why would he lie...?

He wasn't certain what he thought, of Ameni passing his time with the Kana lieutenant in such a manner...he did not know Djuta very well, and the thought of his slave being alone with him so often, beyond his sight, bothered him. Yet all those other times, Ameni had not returned smelling of him. It was clear what they must have been doing, before they arrived at his door. What he did not understand was this odd silence. Ameni had always spoken up when requested; he had never been one to keep secrets, or lie. And this bothered him the most, that Ameni had carried two scents on him, one which Nehekhi could not recognize...

Even more so than what must have happened to him, I worry...why will he not talk to me?

He sighed and shut his eyes, brow furrowing. Perhaps Ameni would speak more readily with Thi'usa, his equal...for some reason, he would not speak with the Kana now. Nehekhi lay still for a very long time before he was able to drift into sleep.

* * * * *

The jails were silent in the early moonlight, even the guards having gone by now; as Kana patrolled the household all throughout the night, they were not needed to keep track of the cells at every moment. At least, this had always been the reasoning before. Djuta thought perhaps it would be best to make a policy change.

The lieutenant stood in the yard just outside the cells, staring at the doorway leading into the small building. He still rubbed at the water running from his ears and dampening his muzzle, his eyes hard and set. With his other hand he grasped the pommel of his sword and thought of how good it would feel to swing it through the air, or slice it through somebody's wings.

The one he had in mind had wings that were tattered already, though.

His nostrils flared. He started toward the little building and made his way inside, down the short hall and past the cells which fronted it. All were empty but two. A thin Kana lay huddled on the cot at the far end of the second cell, curled in on himself and facing the wall, apparently asleep. In the third cell, that next to his own, a bigger shape sat hunched in the far corner, and Djuta's eyes fixed on this. He felt himself being stared at.

He put his hand back to close the secondary door behind him. As soon as he took a step a chuckle came from the third cell.

"Well, if it is not the Moru who is Kana. You cannot keep yourself away from me, can you?"

Djuta's ears flared. He stopped before the third cell and stared inside. The big Moru, Bakh'asu, sat on his cot and stared at him, mouth twitching in the hint of a malevolent grin. His wings slowly stretched and flexed a bit, almost as if they breathed. Their tatters made a soft rustling papery sound.

He noticed Djuta staring at them. "You like them?" he said, and stretched one out; the mangled membrane hung in pathetic shreds, the worst such maiming Djuta had ever seen. Bakh'asu's smile grew. "Of course you do. One tends to admire their own handiwork the most, true?"

Djuta snorted. "I hardly flayed your mangy wings, dog. So do not go blaming your sorrows on me."

"True," Bakh'asu said again. "You did not wield the blade...but I hold you responsible, just the same." He flared his wing and his smile began to look more like a snarl. "Try and remember, best you can, how it felt when your wing was sliced. Now multiply this by a hundred, a thousand even, and try to imagine it in both wings." He stretched out his other wing and Djuta saw it was even worse than the first; even the bony frame itself was nicked and scarred and crooked in one area, as if the bone had been broken by a poor punisher with bad aim, and Djuta nearly flinched. The look on his face must have placated the Moru, for his grin returned. "Now imagine feeling that for months upon months, and still feeling it to this day, rather than the piddling amount of time you moaned over that tiny cut."

"Your pain is hardly my concern."

"I might actually believe you--were you not here right now. I knew if I could not get to you, you would come right to me--for this is your way, is it not? You have never been one to leave unfinished business..."

Djuta's ears flared again. "If you had dared come after me, I would have easily downed you," he growled, Bakh'asu falling silent as he spoke. "Yet you are a coward, and went after the human instead--because he could not fight you. I will not allow this to happen again. You are already going to pay for what you did--yet if you so much as breathe in his direction, I will slice off your tongue, and your wings, so you shall not have to complain about them anymore."

Bakh'asu's grin wavered, just slightly; then he snarled. "You do not know how long I have prayed our paths would cross," he hissed. "So no stupid human is going to deter me. I allowed you your fun with your fat whore, because I know it has been a while since you've knocked some little bitch up. I thought it only polite to let you try again before I killed you--so your scrawny friend was just my diversion. It was nothing personal, merely nesakh'ai."

Djuta's lip curled back. "What you did was hardly nesakh'ai. I will see to it that you never stick your cock in another living thing, without it being sliced from your body first. This holds for Ameni, and Simit, and anyone else you may go after like some lusting hound."

Bakh'asu's mouth twitched. "What, no warning to keep away from that pretty thing of yours--?"

Djuta bared his teeth now, partially drawing his sword with a hiss. "If you dare lay one finger on ANYONE I will kill you!"

The Moru just smiled and sat back, resting against the wall. "You would kill me for hurting your poor little Moru? Then kill yourself--for what you did to that pretty little whore of Tas'hukh's. That twittery, chattery little one you knocked up, only for her to keel over and croak as she squeezed out that little bastard of yours. What was her name? Tas'hukh was not happy..."

The color drained from Djuta's face as the Moru spoke, almost to himself. The pommel of the sword dug into his hand so hard his knuckles went white, though he couldn't even feel it. He heard blood rushing up into his ears, drowning out Bakh'asu's murmuring; his heart thudded almost hard enough to break through his breastbone. A vision of himself running at the bars, and flinging his sword between them so it would slice through the air and ram itself straight through Bakh'asu's chest, ran through his mind; and a second later he was indeed stepping forward, rattling at the bars as he undid the heavy latch which held them shut. Its position was such that it could be opened only from the outside, and Bakh'asu's smile turned into a puzzled frown as Djuta unfastened it. The skinny Kana in the other cell snorted and lifted his head groggily at the noise but Djuta ignored him. He pulled open the door and stepped inside Bakh'asu's cell, the big Moru giving him a mystified look. Djuta's eyes burned.

"On your feet, Moru."

Bakh'asu bared his teeth at the name, but after taking notice of Djuta's sword, obeyed. He was fully a head taller than Djuta, and more, yet Djuta continued looking him in the eye. They stared at each other across the small space of the cell.

"You know me from somewhere," Djuta said, "yet I do not know you. I wish to learn how you know me, and from where."

The Moru bared his teeth again. "Why does this matter to a Kana? Have you no more important matters to busy yourself with, Lord?" He smirked. "Like with that pretty thing of yours?"

"Right now I wish to busy myself with you. Tell me where you know me from."

Bakh'asu reacted in a completely unexpected way, snarling and surging forward, the claws of one great hand crooked. Djuta drew his sword and its point effectively stopped him in his tracks. He came to a stumbling halt and glanced down at it apprehensively as its tip poked his throat.

"As I asked," Djuta said mildly, "tell me where you know me from."

Bakh'asu spat on the floor, face ugly. "As I said! If you do not remember, I hardly have any need to tell you! I would rather see you die in utter confusion than give you the satisfaction of remembering how you humiliated me!"

Djuta stared at him for a moment, then pulled his sword away and slid it back into its scabbard. The Moru barely let out his breath. "Very well," the lieutenant said, still in the same neutral voice; it made Bakh'asu's ears flare in irritation. "As long as you seemed to know me, I entertained the idea of finding out your identity and why it was you became Moru. Now that you've made it clear you wish not to speak your piece, however, I will discard any such ideas as useless and leave you to your new master."

"Master?" Bakh'asu blurted out, seeming surprised.

Djuta crossed his arms. "Yes. I am the one who bought you, yet you were a gift for the Moru Ameni. Therefore you belong to the piddling human's master...Lord Nehekhi...not me."

Bakh'asu blinked at him with wide eyes, then snarled. "You are HARDLY going to pawn me off on that pathetic SCRAP and his numbskull master! YOUR money paid for me! YOU are the one who made the deal!"

"And well I remember how you chafed at this, too. I can be a generous Kana. Even if it was my money, I then give you away as a gift." Djuta turned away. "I wish you luck with your new 'family.'"

He supposed he rather expected what came next. It was part of the reason he had turned his back on such a potentially dangerous Apsiu; if he were attacked, he would have every reason to defend himself by any means necessary. Still, the strength of Bakh'asu's arm around his neck when the Moru jumped forward and grabbed him was greater than he'd anticipated, and the sudden sensation was enough to throw him off just long enough to be captured. He choked and grabbed onto the powerful forearm, his claws digging into the skin. Bakh'asu pulled him back effortlessly; Djuta had had no idea he was so strong. In the other cell he saw the scrawny Kana staring at them with wide eyes. The Moru leaned down to speak in his ear as he held him captive.

"You are a foolish Kana, you know this?" he hissed, his breath making Djuta grimace. "To treat one of your own like a mere slave, and then to swap him over to a piddling Moru, and a human at that. Quite distasteful behavior, one thinks."

"No more distasteful than what you do now, Moru," Djuta wheezed. "Treating a Kana elite like one of your own. Moru."

Bakh'asu snarled aloud and grabbed Djuta's sword, yanking it loose. Djuta's eyes went wide as the weapon swung up into the air--he hadn't thought the Moru was that quick! At the same moment Bakh'asu let go of him and he stumbled forward, nearly landing on his knees. He whirled around to find the sword pointed at his breast, Bakh'asu grinning from ear to ear. Djuta fell still, panting and rubbing at his sore neck.

"Well," he muttered. "Go ahead and see if you still know how to wield the weapon as well as you wield the words, Moru."

Bakh'asu's eyes went wide again in an almost comical expression of disbelief. Then his muzzle wrinkled and he tossed the weapon aside with a look of disgust. Djuta watched it land in the opposite corner, then turned back to look at Bakh'asu. The two stared at each other ominously across the small cell, just as they had moments before. Djuta could hear both their breathing in the stillness.

He stood his ground as Bakh'asu came forward, one eye narrowing slightly in a grin that wasn't quite a grin. He knew that if he moved, the door behind him would be closed; Apsiu cells were built in such a way that a hasty exit was rarely possible. He stepped slightly to the side, and when Bakh'asu turned he ended up with his back against the wall. The big Moru placed his hand beside him and leaned forward so his face was several finger's breadths away. His breath stank of the stale beer he must have been given to keep him from going dry. Djuta's lip curled and his ears flattened.

"You have some unfinished business you wish to take care of, Moru?" he said beneath his breath. "Then you do it with me and me alone. Your filthy hands no longer reach Ameni-Moru or any of the others. You have made enemies of the wrong Kana. Mahakhi himself will slice your manhood from your body if you touch him again."

Bakh'asu snorted, mouth twisting. "As if I care? My unfinished business is with you alone, as you said. He was but a mere trifle along the way, and believe you me, he enjoyed every minute of it. Besides--what is this about Mahakhi? I thought you were the one so after setting your hands on my cock."

Djuta spat. Bakh'asu flinched, and then a slow smile came to his face.

"Feisty, for a Moru."

"You are one to speak, friend."

"True. And yet you are, as well--Moru who is Kana?" He leaned even closer and Djuta flinched, baring his teeth when the Moru's muzzle stopped at the base of his neck, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed Djuta's scent. His breath moved up the side of Djuta's face and the Kana gave a low growl. Bakh'asu chuckled. The scent of his breath set Djuta's already frayed nerves on edge.

"Am I truly unnerving you that much? Why should this be so? You are the big powerful Kana, and I am nothing but a Moru...right?"

"A Moru even may challenge a Kana, if the situation is right. This does not make the action proper."

Bakh'asu made a face. "You have been Kana far too long...you repeat their mottoes as if they are your own."

"They are, dog."

He flinched again and turned his head to the side, eyes shutting tightly. Bakh'asu moved close so their bodies almost touched, and Djuta could feel his heat. His skin prickled and the short fur on his hackles rose. The Moru's muzzle continued making its whiffling noises at his neck and collarbone. His hand slowly slid from the wall to Djuta's side, and then to his front. The Kana's stomach muscles tightened at his touch, and he trailed his claws lightly downward. Djuta's stomach did flips; he felt one step away from retching all over the floor.

The corner of Bakh'asu's mouth twisted up. "I remember you," he whispered. "Sen'akha. Turning to males after your freedom. Giving up women to spare yourself."

Djuta's breath hitched and his ears flicked up. "How do you know this--?"

"I know much more than you would believe..." His eyes narrowed and he grinned. His fingers moved ever lower. "Pleasing your master. Big brave Captain Tas'hukh, always lusting after the young pretty Kana...you must have been the jewel of his collection. How sad he was to see you go. And now you are on your own again. How many Moru do you have of your own? I suppose they please you, now. Do you prefer hakh'tua?" Still with that strange smile, his hand slid down Djuta's thigh, and he slowly lowered himself to the ground as well. Djuta had every chance to kick or knee him and flee the jail cell, yet his legs refused to move. Instead he stood where he was, his breath coming fast and shallow, head swimming. He had no idea what was going on, nor what in the world Bakh'asu could want. He had no idea who the Moru even was. Nothing about his features was familiar in the least, aside from his eyes, and that hardly meant anything. Yet Bakh'asu evidently knew him.

How can he know me--? How does he know all of this--?

He gasped and tensed. Bakh'asu's fingers slid under his kilt, beneath his loincloth; he slipped it off and ran his hand up under Djuta's testicles. The Moru grinned and lifted Djuta's kilt to bare him. His fingers gently massaged up and down Djuta's swelling sheath until the purple head of his penis emerged, glistening moist, and slid from its covering, protruding from between his legs. Bakh'asu leaned forward and his lips went around the throbbing tip. Djuta's muscles tightened and his eyes shut. His claws against the wall felt ready to break. Bakh'asu's mouth enveloped his whole member, tongue sucking and gliding over his heat. Djuta gave a low moan and tipped his head back against the wall. Reflexively, forgetting exactly where he was in his lust, he reached down and took hold of Bakh'asu's head in his hands, straddling his legs wider and shifting his hips. He began to very slowly, lightly push. It had been a long time since he had had hakh'tua and the feeling was exquisite. For a moment he forgot whose mouth he pushed into, until he allowed himself to come prematurely, shivering at the thick flow of his seed. He heard a growl, remembered where he was, and bared his teeth again. He opened his glazed eyes to see Bakh'asu stand, wiping his mouth and staring at him. The Moru gave him a crooked smile.

"No, not much change at all...you are still the same as you were before." A hideous glee came into his eyes. "A pity. I thought perhaps you would make a convincing Kana."

Djuta's entire body trembled in desire and disgust. "I am Kana, dog." It came out as the merest whisper.

Another low chuckle; Bakh'asu's amusement infuriated him. "Are you? You receive hakh'tua passing well, but when we really get down to it--who is master and who is slave now, Lord?"

So saying he leaned close again. Djuta showed his tusks and bared his claws. He pressed himself closer to the wall and heard the Moru let out another soft laugh. Bakh'asu nuzzled at the hollow of Djuta's throat and the Kana gasped as a bolt shot through him.

Bakh'asu grinned and murmured. "Ah...hm. That scent...very distinctive." He nuzzled a bit more, and then his hands slipped down and up again between Djuta's buttocks. The Kana's spine went perfectly straight and he growled.

The big Moru smiled. "You cannot deny it...truly?" He sniffed and his smile grew. "Ah, yes...right there. Mm. Your musk, is it? This is odd. We only emit this when we are in the throes of desire, when we wish to mate. Do you wish to mate, Djuta-Kana? How may the stupid Moru dog tell?"

His fingers moved over Djuta's backside. Djuta fought to keep his breath even, only to feel a soft touch at the most sensitive part of his being. He stiffened and murmured, his tail rising up and to the side. His anus trembled, as did his wings; his penis, since gone back into its sheath, stirred anew. The signs were unmistakable. Yet he said nothing of the sort to his captor, only hissed when Bakh'asu seized his arms, breath coming hard and warm against his neck. Bakh'asu laughed aloud, briefly losing his composure, but just as quickly regaining it and grinning down at him with slitted eyes.

"You wish to mate your fat little whore, do you not?" he whispered, voice husky. His touch burned Djuta's skin like fire. "This is what Kana do with their Moru, right?"

Djuta's voice was weak, unsteady. "You...you are not my Moru..."

"Yet you wish that I were, don't you?" Another smile; Bakh'asu tilted his head. "Tell me...you were not the least bit jealous of your little friend Ameni-Moru, when I took him before you...?"

"You will never touch him again!" Djuta hissed, before Bakh'asu's hands gripped and lifted his buttocks, parting them wide as he pushed his hips forward. Djuta's head whipped back and he let out a husky cry. His muscles shook. The Moru's long thick member pushed up into him and their bellies pressed close together, Bakh'asu's hips pinioning him to the wall.

Bakh'asu grinned at Djuta's whimpers. "You like it?...Moru?...Kana?" he whispered, his eyes narrowing. "You like the slave to till your fields with his plow...? Then steady yourself, for you have a very eager slave, with a very ready plow."

Djuta gritted his teeth and jerked with another cry. Bakh'asu panted thickly and pressed his hips forward again. His hands roughly clenched at Djuta's backside, keeping him lifted onto his feet. When Djuta arched uncontrollably he felt the Kana lift him almost effortlessly, letting out a grunt. His hips spasmed. Djuta's feet flailed and he lost one of his sandals; his thighs tightened against the Moru's middle as Bakh'asu kept him balanced in midair, his strong grip keeping the Kana from falling. Djuta began panting rapidly and his wings shuddered. Fearing a loss of balance, a loss of control, he reached out and his claws sank into Bakh'asu's arms. He fell forward abruptly only to realize his muzzle was pressing against Bakh'asu's neck, and his arms were encircling him. Horror filled him when he heard Bakh'asu snort with laughter.

"You care this much...?"

Djuta slipped one hand down to push himself away from the Moru, but Bakh'asu was quicker. He wrapped his arms around Djuta so tightly the breath was squeezed out of him; Djuta gasped and grabbed on again to keep from falling for certain this time. His thighs clenched tighter as well. He moaned aloud at Bakh'asu's continued thrusting, gritted his teeth at the Moru's incessant laugh. This broke off and Bakh'asu let out a low gruffing noise. His eyes slitted and he took a step forward, Djuta's back and wings running into the wall. Djuta bared his teeth and hissed. The Moru pinned him tight and, grabbing his buttocks once more, began pumping. His motions were rapid and heavy. Even from in front like this, he reached into and inside Djuta, causing the Kana to gasp repeatedly, muscles tensing with each movement. His teeth clenched and his eyes shut tightly. The fire rose inside him; Bakh'asu's size was such that each thrust sent a jolt of agony through him, yet his body was reacting as if it were nesakh'ai with his mate. He couldn't understand it, why he couldn't seem to control himself, break himself free.

His ears pricked at the sound of a guttural chuckle laced with pleasure. Bakh'asu pulled out from him and Djuta let out his breath, sinking forward; his arms started to slide forward to wrap around his middle, a queasy feeling taking over. He hardly had time to take in another breath before the Moru took his elbow and spun him around so he ran into the wall again, his chest slamming against the mudbrick and knocking the wind from his lungs.

He thought briefly of his head, submerged in the water trough, the tight feeling he'd felt around his neck. He sucked in a breath out of pure instinct, and found that while his chest hurt, at least he could still breathe.

Bakh'asu's hands held his arms up against the wall, trapping him; Djuta hissed again only to stiffen when his captor entered him anew with a slow easy push. The Moru murmured appreciatively while Djuta dropped his head against the wall, panting.

Again the chuckle. Bakh'asu's hot breath against his nape made him shudder. When the Moru spoke his voice had changed drastically; it was softer, almost tender, like the voice of a Kana taking his Moru.

"You can pretend...all you like," he murmured. His claws dug into Djuta's hips, their bodies pressed close; the Kana trembled again when he felt the Moru's tongue run along the edge of his wing, and the feeling filled his stomach with butterflies. "But I can tell...tell that you like this...very much."

Djuta's lip curled up. He only continued panting heavily, unable to speak for the confused lust that swirled through his head. He stifled a whimper and his wings fanned the air; Bakh'asu had thrust deeply, and, grasping his mate's shoulders in his powerful grip, gently bit at his neck and began coupling.

The Kana moaned, the sound low and lusting and despairing. His body responded to Bakh'asu's expert touches despite his mind's cloudy efforts to stop it. One of the Moru's hands slid up under his kilt to rub at his sheath and grasp his penis, squeezing it and stimulating him. He could not control his desire, the burning agony of it that tore through him, and a million heated images rushed through his head. He briefly thought of Ameni, and how the human had felt, both within him and around him. He thought of Rithukh'het, his new mate, and how soft and yielding her body had been against his own. He thought of his master, Tas'hukh, and the hot salty taste of him in his mouth, and the feeling of them twined together as they mated in the courtyard pool. He thought of Hup'khit...his sweet little Hup'khit, with her large dark eyes and warm smile and soft laugh...and thought of how she had died bringing his child into the world. He thought of how he had not been there to witness his son's life, his mate's death...thought again of how her doom had been conceived, in a long night of passion spent with the two of them murmuring with quiet laughter, rolling about in the straw, her coy smile and his strong musk and the quick, hurried motions of their lovemaking afterwards. Her soft sobbing moans stung his ears still...

And he thought of that other, whom he had always gone to, who had always been there for him, ever since...

Bakh'asu groaned. Djuta forced open his eyes, tears streaming from them. In the next cell over, the scrawny Kana, the tattoo of a thief emblazoned under his eye, grasped the bars and gawked in at them in open disbelief. His own sheath had swollen with excitement, judging by the small bulge at the front of his kilt; apparently their watcher could not believe his luck.

Djuta shut his eyes and barked loudly, lurching. His claws gouged the wall and one broke. Bakh'asu pressed on his buttock and squeezed his penis, grunting heavily. Djuta jerked and sprayed the wall, back arching and body trembling wildly. He dimly heard the Moru let out his breath with a satisfied murmur. It was only after he pulled himself out, letting Djuta down from himself, that the Kana, stumbling weakly, felt the thick warm fluid seeping within him, and he sagged against the wall, head swirling. The nausea immediately returned, making him want to retch, but all he could do was gasp.

The big Moru smiled down at him and chucked his chin, lifting him back up. "You did enjoy this, Moru-Master? See what I have told you, who is now the master, and who is now the slave in the throes of passion." He chuckled and his eyes narrowed once more. He leaned close, smirking. Though the reek of their sex filled the air plain for anyone to notice, Djuta still grimaced and bared his teeth, pulling his head back when Bakh'asu nuzzled at his neck and sighed. One hand caressed his tight belly, fingers trailing in the downy hair between his legs. His forehead pressed to Djuta's, and against the Kana's will Bakh'asu's lips pressed softly but insistently to his own. Djuta would have bitten at his tongue, had he had the sense of mind, but all he could do was allow it.

What is wrong with me? Why can I not fight this off? I cannot stand him! What is this power he has over me--?

"Yes," the Moru murmured, tenderly kissing the tensed Kana, "you have changed little. Sen'akha." His kiss moved to Djuta's cheek, to his neck. His eyes were shut; the expression on his face was indescribable, a strange combination of love and hate. "No children," he continued. "No sons. No heirs. To be pitied, poor Moru that you are. Because you were too coward to get some bitch fat with your child."

He trailed off in a murmuring laugh. Djuta's heart stung and pounded. His own voice echoed endlessly in his head.

No children. No sons. No heirs.

My Hup'khit.

Rithukh'het. My Rithukh'het...

He tolerated the rest of the Moru's small touches and caresses, keeping his muscles stiff and pulling himself away only when Bakh'asu did the same. The Moru grinned at him, swiping fluid from his sheath and smoothing down his kilt. He tugged down Djuta's as well and gave him one last nuzzle to the cheek. The lieutenant expected him to say no more, which was why Bakh'asu's whisper startled him so much--or was it what he said?

"This is hardly why I came here, Kana...I bide my time now, because being Moru has taught me to be very patient. I will kill you when you least expect it. Though I must admit...your nesakh'ai was most good, indeed, just as it has always been."

Always been--!

What is he speaking of--? I have never mated with him in my life--!

Djuta said nothing, only panted softly between his teeth, giving the big Moru the most hateful glare he could muster, although it went unnoticed; the slave seemed to have lost interest in him. He pushed himself away from the wall as Bakh'asu yawned and scratched himself as if nothing had transpired, turning away and going to sit down at the other side of the cell. As he passed he quickly reached out and grabbed at the other prisoner's penis, causing the skinny Kana to squawk and fly back into his own corner, the frightened motion earning a loud laugh. Bakh'asu lay back on his cot with a contented sigh; when Djuta looked at him, he saw those pale brown eyes still upon him, the Moru's smirk driving daggers of carnality and confusion deep inside his breast.

Djuta retrieved his sword and turned away from him as quickly as he could without running, though his hasty fumbling motions to open the door resulted in even more amused chuckling. At last he yanked the door open and started to step outside, before noticing his sandal still lying upon the floor; he picked it up and slipped it on, then exited the cell, closing and locking it behind him. He strode out of the prisoners' quarters so rapidly that he almost stumbled; he hurried across the yard, and it was only once he was back inside Mahakhi's household and stalking up its long silent halls that he remembered.

His loincloth. He'd left it back there...there was no way he would return for it now. Even his kilt he felt like burning, and dousing himself again in water, just to get rid of the feeling crawling over his skin. He fought against himself; he could not go back to the water trough, not after what had happened. If he wished for a bath he had to go back to his own quarters. This thought didn't appeal to him for some reason, yet there was nothing else he could think of.

That was not nesakh'ai. I did not enjoy that. I did not enjoy that. As soon as I find out who he is, I will jam my sword through his chest and end it all. He will not touch me again. He will not touch Ameni-human. Whoever he is, he will not reach us anymore.

His sandals clacked as sharp as they ever had against the tiled floor. His breath came hard and fast, and if he'd walked any faster he would have taken off running. It was only when he realized his jaws hurt that he even noticed he was gritting his teeth, and he had to force himself to slow down, his lappets swinging as he walked. A confused mess of emotions warred in his head, anger replaced by growing bewilderment.

What was all of this--? How does he even have this sort of power over me? How do I know him? I feel I should remember but I cannot! He knows-- everything about me! Everything!

He shuddered, feeling suddenly cold. There were only a very few who knew almost everything he had to tell, and even they did not know every detail about him. There were things he had never told Resikh, and Resikh knew him better even than Tas'hukh. Yet Resikh would never divulge such information to a dog like that...

He clenched his fists and tried hard to keep his pace normal as he at last passed one of the guards. It wouldn't do for them to see him running around the household at night, seemingly insane.

I must get some sleep, he thought. When the day comes, I will think again, and then I will decide what to do...no matter how unpleasant it is...

Should I sleep, my head will be cleared again. I can think then. And figure out what this is.

He growled to himself. After what had just happened, he doubted sleep would come any time soon, especially with the odd, angrily excited feeling Bakh'asu had left in him. He would never be able to rest so long as he felt this way...

He made himself slow down even more and then stopped, looking around him, frustrated. Nesakh'ai twice in one night!--with two different people! He berated himself for considering what Bakh'asu had done to be nesakh'ai, but...he had gotten excited... He shut his eyes and shook his head, turning down the opposite hallway from the direction he'd intended on going. That had not been nesakh'ai. If it had been, that would mean that Ameni and the others...

He knocked merely as a courtesy before entering the physician's quarters. The old Kana was known to stay up late nights, though Djuta did not expect even him to still be awake at such an hour. He felt a twinge of relief to see that the physician was in fact awake, sitting at a little table and measuring different powders into cups. He glanced up in surprise when Djuta walked in, the door swinging shut behind him, and jumped up, nearly scattering the powders.

"Lord! What is this, barging into my rooms this late--?"

"I need some poppy," Djuta said.

The old Kana blinked, then scowled. "On whose word do you need some poppy?" he demanded.

Djuta noticed a flicker of movement toward the far corner of the room, and saw the junior physician appear, carrying a stack of boxes and frowning in puzzlement on seeing him. He looked back to the old Kana.

"On my word. I need some sleep before daybreak, so I would like a cup of poppy."

The physician snorted and waved one frail hand at the air. "For sleep, I suggest actually shutting your eyes and TRYING! You reek of nesakh'ai--of course you cannot sleep! Try using your bed for what it's made for! I have better things to do than hand out drugs to horny Kana who do not even know when to say enough. Lord Mahakhi will kill me if I go around slipping you all things. You will show up for duty half grogged out of your mind, and it will be MY head!"

Djuta's muzzle wrinkled and he nearly bared his teeth. "You do not command me, idiot! I have served Mahakhi faithfully for years. Everyone in this tribe knows my reputation! If I ask for poppy it is for a damned good reason!"

"Why not simply give him the poppy?" the junior physician asked. Djuta glanced at him with a bit of surprise; the older physician did the same, then hissed and jerked his hand at the younger Kana with a disgusted look.

"Mind your own business, whelp! This is hardly your concern!" He waved at Djuta once more and turned back to his table. "Go on! Try sleeping the hard way. You do not need any help from me!"

Djuta's ears flared. He never would have thought that simply seeking some poppy would turn into such a spectacle, and frankly, it was beginning to grind on his nerves. He gripped the pommel of his sword and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"Better a whelp than an old dog," the junior physician snapped. He set down the boxes with a loud thunk. "At least a whelp can learn new tricks!"

The elder physician wrinkled his muzzle. "Watch your tongue, boy!"

The younger Kana lifted his nose and wrinkled it as if he smelled something bad; at any other time the gesture would have been amusing. "You can hardly tell me what to watch, old coot. I am as much a physician as you are. I have served this house for three years!"

The old Kana at last whirled around. Djuta groaned to himself and rubbed his eyes. "And I have served it THRICE as long, and more! I can tell you to do what I like and you will DO it!"

"If Lord Mahakhi seeks to rid himself of one of us, Lord, I rather think it will be the one who is on his last legs." The old physician paled, eyes growing wide; Djuta stood and watched as the junior physician dug around in one of the boxes he'd been carrying, pulling something out and walking across the room. He glanced at Djuta as he did so.

"How many hours do you have to sleep?" he asked, setting a small jar down on another table and opening it up, pouring some of its contents onto a piece of papyrus.

Djuta stared at him a moment, mildly confused, before answering. "Until daybreak. I have business then."

The junior physician turned back to the table and picked up a bone scraper, dividing the little pile of powder he'd poured out into two piles, then three, and pouring two back into the jar. He lifted the edges of the papyrus and folded them over the remaining powder.

The older physician steamed, clenching his fists. "Khetai! Do not make me seek to have you removed from here, for I will do it!"

Khetai lifted his head and gave the old Kana a dark look, nostrils flared, as he finished folding the envelope. "Do not make me seek to tell Lord Mahakhi about what you like to do with the scarab powder, when you think his females need more attention!"

If Djuta had been in a better mood, he would have laughed loudly at how the senior physician's eyes goggled. Instead he stood by the door and waited as Khetai fastened the envelope and then came toward him, holding it out. He accepted it in silence and looked at it briefly while the younger Kana bowed.

"This should be enough to get you through a night's sleep, Lord. Take only half if you feel you may awaken more exhausted than usual. And do not eat or drink too much before bed."

Djuta relaxed inwardly, letting out a slight sigh and tucking the envelope into his belt. "Thank you," he said; Khetai bowed. He glanced up at the older physician, who saw his stare and started fuming again. Djuta's ear twitched.

"I'd recommend learning what is best for one's patients," he said, then added, "before Lord Mahakhi hears of this 'scarab powder.'"

All the blood drained from the old Kana's face. Djuta just barely saw Khetai smirk before he turned and left the room, trudging back in the direction of his quarters at last.

I think it is time Mahakhi fired that old coot, and promoted that younger one. Apparently years do not equal wisdom around here, anymore.

He pulled out the envelope and looked at it as he walked. It had never been his habit to resort to such things in order to sleep; but then again, he'd never had much difficulty sleeping before. He saw how his hands shook just slightly and gritted his teeth in irritation.

I am becoming a wreck. What sort of Kana will I be if I let such things get to me? I have been through much worse than what that dog did. I am supposed to be stronger than this.

He held up the little packet, glowered at it, then shoved it back into his belt. He had until reaching his quarters to decide whether he wanted to take it or not. His sandals snikkt snikkt snikkted against the floor.

All of those things he said. Why does he care who or what I am? Why should some Moru care whether I am sen'akha or not? I have not wished for a mate until now! I've gotten by just fine...and I do not have the time to go looking after a litter of pups...

I do not have the time...

He stared off down the hallway as he walked, the columns and murals fading around him.

I do not have much time...I do not even know my father. Am I the last one then...?

Any other time, the thought had never bothered him so much, knowing that he had no family to continue on after he was gone. Continuity was a vague concept, not of much use to him. The longer he thought over it, though, the more anxious he felt himself becoming. It had never seemed too important to leave something behind, yet now, for some reason the thought of leaving not a thing behind made a chill creep into his breast.

I am the last one...

Bakh'asu's contemptuous laughter echoed in his head. Djuta's ears flared as if the noise were real and his muzzle wrinkled. He picked up his pace until he practically marched down the hall, lappets swinging. It was all he could do not to pull out the little envelope of poppy and toss it aside as he went.

He at last reached his quarters and abruptly pushed open the door which had been replaced, storming inside. On his bed, he saw a shape sit up, and looked to see Rithukh'het staring at him with wide eyes, apparently not having expected him back so suddenly. It looked as if she'd dozed off there while he was away. They stared at each other for a brief moment, then Djuta strode straight her way, his own eyes smoldering like fire. He reached the bed and yanked aside the gauzy drapes; the Moru gasped when he pushed her down to the bed, not even bothering to turn her over, and let out a small cry when he swung his leg over her and lifted up her dress and his kilt. Rithukh'het jerked and arched when her master pushed into her heavily, and whimpered when he rotated his hips to position himself.

For the next few hours Rithukh'het could do nothing but moan at the canopy as Djuta thrust and grunted, taking her as many times as his determination would allow. He counted his chances with each spurt of his seed within her, and after each all-too-brief rest, he pushed her down and started rutting anew. He gritted his teeth as he swayed, Rithukh'het's cries drowning out the derisive echo of Bakh'asu's laughter in his head.

Djuta would have a child. Djuta's line would continue.

Continue:

"Part 23: Memory" 


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