Beast of War

Einz…

The youth leaned back in the seat with a sigh, eyeing the computer monitors with disinterest.
He looked no older than sixteen although he was well past that age, his dark blue eyes
slightly slanted and long silken black hair framed the pale delicate face and silver pearls
adorned his earlobes sparsely. His name was Amiel Riika, a young bounty hunter and he
was the owner of the ship “The Tiamat”. Activating the auto-pilot he rose from his seat, swaying slightly. Immediately he felt the pressure against his chest increasing, and his heart started to beat faster, the sound of its drumming almost painfully loud in his ears.

He was suffering from the thirst. He\'d lasted a week without taking his dose, now that he had this precious prisoner locked up in the cargo room he couldn\'t afford taking the risks. His prisoner was as deadly as he was precious. The young bounty hunter bowed his head and massaged his temples frustrated. A whispering, wailing, hissing sound that had nothing to do with the ship\'s engines echoed in his head, a sign that he would soon loose what little self control he had managed to cling to. He needed the drug now, needed it bad enough to start clawing at his fevered flesh, giggling hysterically. But he couldn\'t give in to it. He had to keep his head clear and focused on reaching the planet Monakir where he was supposed to hand over his prisoner. But it was still a couple of days left until they would get there. Amiel yawned and stretched out, the bones in his back aching. It was feeding time. His black leather outfit and coat followed his slight body smugly, revealing his bony shoulders and slender hips. Around his neck he wore the medallion of Karkaki; the bounty hunter guild of the wolf. He grabbed the plate with the can of water and the two cakes of bread and went to the cargo room. Quickly, with computer smart fingers, he pushed the password and the doors hissed open. Amiel stepped inside. In a corner of the dark room, blending with the shadows, some one was sitting huddled. Amiel froze warily, as he always did in the presence of his deadly prisoner. He stared at the bowed head and long strands of shiny raven black hair adorned with braids of gold and red.
\"Jig\" H\" He commanded. The man slowly averted his gaze from the floor and his honey coloured, feline, eyes met with Amiel\'s blue ones. High cheekbones and a narrow, straight, nose gave the man the handsome, jet predatory, look which had earned him the nicknames the likes of \"The tiger eyed devil\" and \"Cat of Hell” He stared emotionless at the young bounty hunter between strands of blood red hair and Amiel had to steel himself not to throw the plate and dash for the door. Those inhuman golden eyes with their slitted pupils watched him as lazily as a cat would its prey. This was Jigrin Raek. The murderer from Tiadaarid tid to have killed a hundred of innocent men for no other reason than his own apparent blood thirst. Amiel himself had captured him, spicing the mans drink with drugs. Amiel, being young and weak, had to depend on other resources. Some times he drugged his unaware victim. Many times he simply seduced them and lead them willingly into the trap.
Amiel kneeled and put the plate down on the floor, never lowering his guard, never taking his gaze of the murderer. Jigrin watched him quietly.
\"You don\'t look to good captain Riika\" he rasped, his voice hoarse and throaty. Amiel felt a spark of something. Fear? Jigrin\'s low, powerful, voice always had a way of wrapping around the young bounty
hunter\'s heart and squeeze it raw. Feeling ill at ease the youth rose.
Immediately his vision blurred and he staggered, heart beating rapidly as if threatening to burst. Jigrin was watching him knowingly but did not make the move he so easily could hao dio disarm and utterly defeat his prison master. Instead his golden eyes burned their way trough the youths dark ones and right into his vulnerable soul. Seeing the hunger for the Obsidian glare right back at him, devouring what little strength still left in the boy\'s fragile mind.
\"You should take your…\" Jigrin lowered his eyes, hiding a shadow of something almost resembling pity \" Medication....\" the purring voice was so deceivingly calm but Amiel could see the fire within shinshiny golden eyes; the never sleeping or resting eyes of a hunter, and knew that Jigrin patiently was biding his time. He had not resigned to what ever fate held in store for him, and jet he had not tried to break free. This odd behaviour scared Amiel sick. He knew that Jigrin was powerful and intelligent and also that, even tough he was the one holding the gun and the key to freedom, Jigrin was really the one in control here. It scared him shitless alright, and at the same time made him strangely aroused.
\"Why don\'t you just eat your food and keep quiet...In a week you might never eat again...\" he whispered without much passion, faking indifference. And what ever his feelings was for the man he could do little to nothing to save him anyway. Besides he needed the money badly. He needed it to buy his drugs, the one thing that made his miserable existence bearable. In a way, he was trading Jigrin\'s life for his own. There could be no way he could ever escape the embrace of the Obsidian. It was his curse and with out it\'s kiss, he would turn into a wreck and slowly die. He needed it so much he would do anything to get a hold of it. In fact, back before he got adopted by the Karkaki guilt his life had revolved wholly around getting money for the drug dealers. Being young and weak, but beautiful, there had never been that much of a choice for him and they had thrown him, drugged and senseless, into the arms of countless customers. The vague memories made the familiar taste of shame fill his mouth. Angry, most of all at himself and his weakness, Amiel turned his back and quickly escaped the prison room, the door hissing shut behind him and locking itself.

Alone in his dark prison, Jigrin lowered his eyes, something resembling a smile crossing his features...

Amiel had withdrawn to his room. He sat down on the bed, grabbing the remote control and turning on his favourite CD. As the loud and fast music filled the room the youth slowly relaxed and leaned back on the bed, his hair spilling out over the pillows. He stretched out, every aching muscle in his small body screaming in protest. God he was so tired of all this! Sighing, he closed his eyes and immediately he was caught up in his fantasies, his tired mind letting go of the melancholy. He slipped a hand up beneath his clothing, pinching a pink nipple teasingly, toying with the silver pin piercing. He let out a shuddering breath and his other hand eagerly went to his trousers and he unzipped them, freeing his bulging erection from its prison of leather. He needed to let some of the pressure out some how and he needed it now.
The thin fabric of the boxers separated his fingers from the burning hotness beneath and he started rubbing it in agonisingly slow movements.
Closing his eyes he imagined Jigrin touching him this way, the strong mans hands roaming over his body. He wondered how it would feel like to be fucked by him, to be hold and pressed against that formidable body.
A shudder of delight and maybe a bit of fear went trough his heated self.
Quickly, unable to hold off any more, he slipped his hand inside the boxers and started stroking his urging member. Arching his back and moaning from the self-inflicted pleasure he pressed is face into the pillows, his eyes still shut, lost in his fantasies.

All to soon he came, spilling into his hand and onto his abdomen. Panting harshly, he bought his fingers to his lips and licked the pale liquid off. After wards he was ashamed and disgusted with himself. He sat up, still trembling from all the urging needs pulling in him painfully, but most of all from the humiliation he felt from his own bodily betrayal. The deadly fascination for Jigrin. Every time he closed his eyes the same gaze burned in his mind like a beacon.
Eyes the colour of melting gold…
\"Jigrin...\" Amiel forced back a sigh. It was not the fact that he had these intimate dreams of a man that bothered him, but the knowledge that they were about a murderer. A monster in human hide.
He had never hesitated hang otg other prisoners
to what ever cruel fate waited for them in the hands of their nemesis…But with Jigrin it was different and the closer he came to reaching Monarkir the worse the guilt tormented him. What was it about the mysterious man that haunted him so?

He could not answer, or maybe he just didn\'t want to. Sighing he sat up and pulled out a wooden box from in under the bed, lifting it on to the sheets and flipping it open. A bottle was all that was left. A small smoky black bottle containing an oily liquid. The Obsidian. Amiel lifted it gingerly and watched the darkness within it swirl and move slowly like some kind of ill-willed spicreacreature caught behind the walls of glass. He knew he shouldn\'t do this, he should try to keep clean at least until he got Jigrin out of his ship and was safely docked in some calm outback port. Things could all go terribly wrong and he would not be himself, with senses enough to do anything about it. But he couldn\'t fight it anymore, in the end he couldn\'t win. Amiel had never been strong psychically that way and maybe he hoped things would go to hell whilst he was delirious. Death some times didn’t seem like a hard choice compared to the suffering of living. With the picture of Jigrin\'s cruel, sexy, eyes burning in his mind, he grabbed the syringe. He didn\'t need much, he never did. Sttlettle was enough to make his small body burn with the pleasant fire. He buried the needle in his arm skilfully, and emptied the syringe, pulling out without spilling a drop of blood. And then he carefully put the bottle back into the box and slid it back in its hidden, safe place. He leaned back onto the bed, his thoughts wandering off to Jigrin. His guilt and fear soon being washed away by the black sea that was the drug.
And he felt wonderful...