Chapter 1

Bradeon Gosh-Ere grabbed the remote from the crimire table as he lay on his side watching the Kazphyrian Citizen Report. He lowered the volume of the commercial that blasted higher than the regular programming. It felt good to be off work during the darkness for a change. Working in a busy Kaz Casualty on the dreaded sleep-cycle shift kept him busy.

He was relieved he hadn't answered his personal transmission unit when it buzzed the moment he'd stepped out of the shower. He'd pulled on the loose-fitting shorts, the only clothes he was wearing now, before reaching for the unit. At the last minute, he decided to let the answering device pick up.

When he heard his sister Aimee's inquiring voice, he breathed a sigh of relief that he'd avoided her probing questions about his single status. If he had answered that trans call, she would have grilled him about his plans and anybody new he was seeing. When was he going to choose a mate? Brad wished Aimee would mind her own business. He was perfectly happy with his life.

Brad shared his apartment with Hankren Tereamin, who was a Kazphyrian Trade and Being Transport Pilot and rarely home, so for all purposes, he had the place to himself. Brad was sure his sister didn't want to hear about the bevy of females who passed through here. Or since she was so nosy, and doing what she thought was in his best interest, Aimee might have wanted to know about it. Maybe then, she would quit worrying about his unmated state. Not that Brad didn't think about finding a mate occasionally.

The banging sounds coming from the hall had Brad pointing the remote toward the Telepromtor once again, turning it off, so he could listen to the commotion coming from outside his door. He sat up just enough to look over the back of the couch toward the door.

He heard the sounds of shuffling around, almost as though someone was anxious to make it through the door. Hank? Brad listened intently when he heard some whispers and moans. The door swished open suddenly, and two bodies came rushing in, almost stumbling in their haste, tearing at each other's clothes.

Jardem! He hated to interrupt them by making his presence known. Their frantic movements hinted that nothing would stop them anyway.

So Brad kept quiet, but continued watching. He hadn't seen Hank in several moons--actually since Hank's last layover in Kantrer, the Kazphyrian city they lived in. The two of them were like spaceships that passed in the darkness. Hank looked like he'd gotten some sun, probably from one of the posh planets he transported some rich territory governor's family to, and of course, he was still as toned--muscles etched as if by a master artist--as he always was. The female with him was blonde and fit; the type of body that typified a space-stewardess in Brad's mind. Brad watched her practically rip off her clothes as she and Hank continued kissing, kneading, and fondling each other with barely suppressed violence.

As he watched the explosive passion in the kitchen unit, Brad could feel his dick stir. He repositioned his shaft, since he was hard enough now that the tip was pushing open the senche material of the waistband on his shorts.

Keeping his eyes trained on the action, he soaked in Hank's muscular and darkly tanned body, along with the slightly tanned skin and supple body of his guest. When they finally tore off their uniforms, Hank picked up the female and shoved her onto the kitchen-unit table.

There was more grunting and moaning as they kissed as if they were fighting. "Hold on, babe, gimme a sec," came Hank's rough instruction. Brad knew what Hank was doing even if he hadn't been watching the whole scene. Hank might screw the countryside, but he always wore a sterility sheath. No unwanted senetted females for Hank.

"Mmmm, oh ... Hank," the woman moaned and then, seconds later, let out a sharp gasp as Hank plowed into her cunt.

Watching Hank pound into the girl was getting to Brad. Hank's bare ass muscles clenching, his long, lean legs braced apart, leaning over as he jerked and thrust into her. He hadn't realized how much he missed Hank until he saw his friend again. The shaggy, mussed black hair, worn in a similar style to Brad's his own light brown, was almost shoulder-length. Desire was riding Hank hard. Brad could see it in the sexy expression on his face, with his full lips, sinfully long sooty lashes, and eyes the color of caraca. The couple continued their actions for another minute. "Come on, babe," Hank's dark, sultry voice told her, before grabbing her bodily off the table, to come barreling in Brad's direction.

Brad fell back flat on the drescron couch, hearing more frantic movements, hoping Hank didn't mean to finish their interlude on the sofa.

Brad jerked in response as the upper part of the girl's body came flying over the back of the couch. Her tits bouncing, the long blonde hair flying about her face in wild abandon, her eyes were shut, her sexy mouth parted with her moans and gasps of pleasure. He could hear the pounding sounds of Hank fucking her. Now Brad was as hard as rocled steel--what the hell was he supposed to do? He wanted to grab the girl's bouncing breasts and squeeze them.

Blast it! He couldn't just lie still while they fucked above him. To hell with it. Giving into his desire, Brad grabbed the girl's tits and squeezed. At first she groaned loudly, probably thinking Hank was taking the privilege, but somehow she must have sensed these caresses were coming from another direction.

"Oh ... who..."

Hank stopped pounding into the female's pussy, but kept his hands on her hips. When Hank saw him rise slowly from the sofa, he grinned.