Amorous Overnight by Robin L. Rotham Page A

of physical contact between them. He wanted to give the ensign more of a sense of control, of being on equal footing, however illusory it might be. If the experience left him feeling violated or subjugated, he might withdraw himself from consideration as second.
    The door opened automatically to reveal a startled, and quite naked, Ensign Hastion. Cecine was torn between a grin of amusement and a growl of satisfaction, neither of which would be appropriate.
    “Welcome back, Ensign.” He heard a distinct gulp before Hastion walked into the room with movements that couldn’t have been more wooden if he’d been carved from a guta tree. The sight gave him pause. “You wish to proceed?”
    “I still have a choice?”
    “Of course you have a choice,” Cecine said impatiently. “I wouldn’t have you unwilling.”
    Much as he might wish to.
    Hastion took a deep breath and gave him a direct look. “I definitely wish to proceed, sir.”
    To hide his relief, Cecine turned away and picked up the lubricant, pretending engrossment in the ingredients. Which, now that he looked at them, appeared none too savory. If this was any indication of what Terrans routinely applied to their most delicate tissues, it was little wonder their life spans were so short.
    “Empran, set the biolabs to formulating a nourishing organic anal lubricant,” he sent.
    “Order submitted.”
    “All right, Ensign,” he finally said, turning. “Do you wish to prepare yourself or shall—”
    “I can do it, sir,” Hastion said quickly, a blotchy flush rising in his chest and face.
    Picking up one of the small towels he’d placed on the bedside table earlier, Cecine passed it to him along with the lubricant then turned again to give him a measure of privacy. It occurred to him that most bondmates called each other by name, but he doubted that would make the ensign any more comfortable—they weren’t bondmates yet, after all, and something within him balked at yielding that particular bit of formality before he had to.
    “Ready, sir.”
    When he turned, the ensign, still an endearing shade of red, handed him the bottle and wiped his hands on the towel.
    Cecine gestured toward the side of the bed. “I presume bending over the bed’s edge is acceptable for this experiment, Ensign?”
    “Yes, sir.” Hastion approached uncertainly and bent over, placing his hands gingerly on the gray polysheen blanket and spreading his bare feet shoulder-width apart.
    Moving to stand directly behind him, Cecine snapped open the bottle’s lid and poured a generous puddle of lubricant into his palm. His already stiff cock hardened further as he stroked it and surveyed the sheer beauty of the landscape before him, hardly able to believe it was here before him in the flesh, his alone to enjoy. Hastion was an ideally formed young male—broad at the shoulder and narrow at the waist, with smooth, rounded buttocks, long, straight legs that bore very little hair, and musculature clearly defined beneath pale skin that glowed with health.
    Was this what Draeda had seen, standing behind Cecine all those years ago?
    He flinched. No, of course it wasn’t. Like Draeda, he’d been raw from the wind and burned by prolonged exposure to the sun—and far from willing.
    The male before him now submitted of his own accord, and Cecine knew an animalistic urge to claim what he’d so grudgingly coveted since he first saw the probe demonstration. He wanted to sink his teeth into the round bulges in his arms and shoulders, his neck and ribs, and even his buttocks. And biting would be just the beginning of what he’d do to the tantalizing sac that dangled between the ensign’s legs. His mouth watered at the very thought of it.
    Shuddering, he squeezed the base of his penis tightly. He could only imagine the nervous young warrior’s startled reaction to such treatment, and the imagining only made him harder.
    Hastion’s buttocks tightened briefly, as did the glistening pucker of his