"Just As His Father"
by Osiris Brackhaus

 

"I think you humans are a disgusting race."

Corso looked up from the monitor he had been watching so intently during the last moments. So intently, indeed, that he had not noticed Prune sneaking up on him from behind, catching a glimpse of what actually had caught his captain's interest.

"And how is it that you have come to that conclusion, my old friend?", Corso asked mockingly, obviously feeling most jovial and relaxed, grinning widely.

"You are peeping on that boy again, aren't you?"

"And if! Why'd YOU care?"

"You smell of mating."

Even Prune's unusual boldness seemingly was not able to darken Corso's mood.
How unusual, especially when considering how easily the captains ugly temper flared. But, no, tonight he seemed to feel most pleased with himself, even lowering down to share his mind with a simple member of his crew.

"So. Then I do. I still fail to see why this makes all of us humans so offensive."

"How can you think of mating when watching him?"

A predatory note crept into Corso's grin, but he did not interrupt Prune's monologue.

"As I take it, you humans got two genders, as most decent species. But he is like you! Alright, I know, if you got an itch, it's gotta be scratched, but that's not what I see in your eyes."

Slowly it dawned to Prune what dangerous grounds he was treading, and Corso's fiendish grin and the way he had lifted his right eyebrow didn't make the situation much better.

"What is it that you see in my eyes, then?", Corso asked when the aliens explanations came to a grinding halt.

"I – ", Prune said, now dreadfully aware of the poisonous threat that lingered underneath the human's friendliness, desperately trying to figure out a way how to end this without turning Corso's vengeful temper against him.

"Captain, I shouldn't be talking like this, I know, it just was that –"

"What?", Corso interrupted him, cutting of any way of escape Prune could have thought of in his devious little mind.

"It's that hunger, captain..."

"Yes...?"; the black-haired man replied in a low voice, leaning forward, still grinning, giving Prune the impression of a hungry gracklefox ready to jump.

"I have never seen that kind of hunger in any race but in humans, Sir, and –", Prune hesitated and swallowed.
"It frightens me, Sir"; he finished meekly.

Corso stared at him for a few moments longer, than his face twitched, contorted, and to Prunes immeasurable relief, he broke into loud and utterly amused laughter.

"Oh, heavens, Prune, you really shouldn't worry."

Corso, still shaking with mirth, stood up and jovially slapped the very careful Prune on his shoulder.

"You're so ugly, I can promise you that you'll never be on the receiving end of these looks of mine. But this boy – he's different."

With these words, Corso grabbed his First Mate's arm and dragged him forcefully towards that monitor he had been studying so concentratedly mere moments ago.

"You see this?", Corso asked in a low hiss. "Watch! Look at him!"

Violently pushed in front of the screen, Prune now could see that his captain indeed had been peeping on that human boy that had joined their crew some days ago.

On the screen, Corso had several monitors of that young human's quarters, obviously all from hidden cameras. One camera's view had been enlarged, showing in surprising clarity the tiny bathroom that adjoined Cale Tucker's bunk.

The human stood in front of the square mirror, apparently just having finished his shower, now preparing to shave.
Only clad in a flimsy towel, some drops of water glistening on his shoulders, Prune knew that he was looking at a rather handsome specimen of the human race. And watching it in a very advantageous situation.

But Corso's tight grip around his arm stopped any further thought, And Prune felt his own body tighten in defense as his captain leaned close to him, watching the boy on the monitor as well.

"He is so...", Corso began, his voice low and unnervingly coarse. "He is so fucking much like his father..."

Prune looked at his captain for a long moment.

"You mated with his father?", he asked, his voice betraying a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

Corso turned his head, returning Prune's gaze with a dark stare of his own very best, his grin showing two rows of white, healthy and probably very, very sharp teeth.

"We had such a special relationship, his father and I. Very special..."

Deep and throaty, Corso's voice trailed away, his eyes fixed on Cale, yet with a distant note as if comparing the pictures on the monitor with memories of good old days.

Prune shuddered.

"He could have as well been your son!", he whispered, more courageous than normal as disgust had thoroughly pushed caution out of his mind.

"He could have", Corso said, his voice still low, his eyes still fixed on the screen.
"He could. But he isn't. "

Than he turned to Prune, his eyes glittering with that unnerving hunger that had creeped out Prune in the first place, adding:

" He isn't mine. Not yet."

Corso opened the small door that led from Cale's room into his bath without making a single sound.

He once more congratulated himself for having installed separate rooms for every crewmate. So that private visits like this one could go undisturbed.

Grinning darkly, he let the door slide shut, turning his attention to the boy under the shower.

He had watched Cale, as so often, when the young blonde entered his bathroom, started to shed his clothes, one by one.
He had watched him pulling that red sleeveless shirt that usually clung to him like a second skin over his head, revealing the surprising muscular shoulders of a young man.
What a delightful situation this was, Corso thought to himself, his grin still widening. He was so very much like his father, strong-willed, spirited, unbendable. And yet, he had inherited his mother's fair looks, and was broader in shoulders and narrower in waist than his father had been at his age.
But, most important – he was young. He was in this precious age where innocence of youth mixed with the physical lure of a grown-up man.
He was untouched, unspoiled.
What a breathtaking experience it would be to break him in.

Thinking of what he was about to do made Corso's palms sweat and his breath quicken.
He silently went over to the round shower in the corner of the small room, watching the boy's body move in the mist-filled cell. Tiny drops ran down the glass-door that sealed the shower, and Corso felt his heart race inside his chest when he saw similar droplets running down Cale's shoulders, following the inward curve of his back, running like caressing fingers over his ass, then down his thighs, his legs.

What a mesmerising velvety luster wet skin can sometimes have, Corso mused, absently stroking the short brown beard that crowned his chin. An attribute that is completely lost with age. That boy truly was an amazing beauty.
And he still didn't even dream of what would happen to him very soon.

Then, suddenly, the last remains of shampoo seemed to have been rinsed out of Cale's hair, and the boy turned around.

"My Gods!", Cale exclaimed, scrambling away from the door in instinct; his voice muffled by the still-running shower and the glass that separated him from his captain.

Then, as he recognised the dark shape behind the glass as an amused Corso, he relaxed, turned off the shower and opened the door.

"Hey.", Corso said in a low voice, nonchalantly leaning to the door's frame with his shoulder.

"You scared the bloody shit out of me, Corso", Cale said, amused than angry.

How innocent.

"Did I."

Corso's languid words hung in the air for a moment as both men watched each other intently through the swiftly dispersing mist. One with insecure irritation, the other with desire neatly masked behind amused anticipation.

"What's so important that the Captain comes to talk to me in the shower?"

The drops of water that were still running down Cale's body commanded pretty much of Corso's attention, and he followed them down along the young man's shoulders, curving around his pectorals, trickling over the clear bumps of his abs, disappearing in the dark curly hair between his legs.
Between his legs...

Forcefully, Corso turned his looks away from Cale's dick, hopefully not too late, for he would not have liked to spoil this sport too soon.
It is such a fun to toy around with easy prey, Corso thought. Every cat knows this.

"Your towel.", the older man said like an order, holding the white cloth towards the blonde.

"Thanks"

Cale tool the towel and began to rub dry his hair, stepping out of the shower in the process, completely ignoring how close he came to his captain who did not move a single inch to let him pass.

The fresh and clean scent of Cale when he passed mere millimetres from Corso made his head swim and his throat go dry. Oh gods, what pleasure it would be to make him submit, to force him against his will. To see him weep.

Corso shuddered in barely controlled desire.

"So what's up, Captain?", Cale began anew, having finished with his hair, now rubbing dry his shoulders, arms and torso.

"Nothing specific."

Corso's voice still was calm and deep, his hands tucked tightly behind his belt, lest they would start fuzzing around that boy like mad.
Not so quick. Not yet.

"Hm?"

Cale turned around, looking at his late father's friend as if he might have just misunderstood what Corso had said.

"Nothing specific, I said."; Corso repeated with a shrug. He felt his grin trying to break though and allowed himself a tiny, shy smile.
"I just wanted to talk to you."

"And that's why you jumped on me under the shower?", Cale asked mockingly, still utterly unaware.

How very, very hot ignorance can be at times.

Corso felt his crotch grow hot and his trousers too tight as he thought about the image the boy had suggested.
Next time, he thought, maybe next time, my boy.

"I just wanted to get to know you better...", Corso made a try at prolonging his charade, but he could see in Cale's eyes that the young man had begun to suspect something, though he probably didn't know himself what exactly he thought amiss.

"Tell me what you want, Corso, or leave my bath." Cale's voice definitely had taken on a slight note of annoyance. "We can talk when I have dressed."

"Isn't it obvious what I want?", Corso asked, his voice dripping of faked innocence, not making a single move to leave.

"What the hell...-"

"It's you I want, Cale Tucker, nothing else."

"What are you talking of?", Cale asked, his voice betraying his growing discomfort, wrapping the towel around his waist in the cutest gesture of defiance Corso had ever seen.

"You're sick, man!", the boy exclaimed, standing with his back towards the small washtable.

Corso pushed himself away from the doorframe he had been leaning to all the time, moving closer to the boy that was glaring at him oh so defiantly.

"Maybe." Corso's voice took on more and more throaty coarseness as he did no longer waste any efforts to mask his intend.
"But that's really none of your business."

Gods, how he longed to lay hands on this utterly impeccable body!
Corso felt himself shiver with anticipation, his breath going hard.

But his steady forward motion had finally shown Cale that he was in grave danger – and in a brave though entirely late attempt he made a bold dash towards the door, hoping that, once out of the confining closeness of the bath, he would have better chances to get rid of his unwanted suitor.

But Corso, being the veteran of many similar incidents as this one, had long anticipated this move, and without hurry took his stunner out of its holster on his thigh, and shot Cale square in the back, only a few paces across the room.

With a choked gurgle, the boy stumbled, stopped and crumbled on the ground like an short-cut android.

Very satisfied with himself, Corso put the Stunner back into the holster and went over to Cale, who lay on the ground, his limbs twitching uncontrollably.

"What a bold attempt at freedom, my boy", the captain said as he knelt down on top of him.
"Didn't think I'd use that one on you, did you?"

He tousled Cale's blond hair in a gesture of benevolent affection, than fixed the boy's jerking head with a firm grip to the chin.

"Your father couldn't imagine that, either." Corso watched his eyes moving uncontrollably and wiped away some saliva that was dripping out of the boy's slack mouth.
"It hurts like hell, but it doesn't really harm you, you know", the older man explained as he turned around Cale, cuffing together his hands with cuffs he had pulled out of one of his pockets.
"Actually, if you're really bored, you can shoot yourself with them.", he went on while straightening the boy's legs, fixing them together with another pair of handcuffs at the ankles. "Sick, I know, but still cheaper than drugs anyway."

He took his time to have a look at the restrained boy, laying on the ground of his small bathroom, the towel still around his waist.

"Oh gawds!", Corso exclaimed, his voice unsteady and throaty with desire. He pulled his own shirt over his head, feeling the warm, moisture-filled air touch his skin with gentle fingers.

"You can't imagine how long I have been waiting for this, can you?"

He took the dazed boy up by his cuffed hands, holding him by his shoulders, looking for a place more suitable for his endeavour than the cold ground.
A moment later, Corso wiped all stuff on top of the washing-table to the ground in a single, sweeping motion, all the while holding the half-unconscious Cale with his other hand.
Laying the boy facedown with his chest onto the cold porcelain, the captain took out his third and last pair of handcuffs, linking Cale's right arm closely to the towel-rail that surrounded the table.

Very satisfied with his preparations, Corso let his hands run down the back of the boy, revelling in the sensation of Cale's young and velvety skin underneath his callused hands.
This boy truly was a work of art. Corso drew in a deep breath as he felt his passion rising in him, closing his eyes to take in every single sensation.
He let his hands glide down Cale's back, slowly, sensually, feeling every muscle underneath, until his hands were stopped by that annoying towel that still clung around the boy's waist.

Corso opened his eyes again, carefully reached around Cale's waist with both hands, gently loosening the cloth. First he had intended to simply let it drop to the ground, but then the captain's look fell on the steamed-up mirror in front of him.
With a seedy grin, Corso took the towel from Cale's waist, leaning forward to wipe the mirror clean, pressing his bulging crotch purposefully against Cale's shapely, firm ass.

With every swipe of the towel on the mirror, Corso could see his own smiling face better, and his smile grew bigger with every progressive move that made him feel the boy's untouched flesh in his lap.

Corso took his time when he thought the mirror in front of him sufficiently clean and assessed the man watching him out of the murky darkness on the other side.

Sure, he had aged. He had lost some hair and had gained some wrinkles around his eyes. His skin had lost the lustre of youth and would begin sagging sooner or later. The first traces of white showed around his temples.
But he still looked dashing, he knew that. He had kept up with his training, his shoulders wide and muscled, his waist only marginally wider than Cale's, his stomach flat as should be.
And his face had aged most gracefully. His eyes had never lost that fierce youthful sparkle, the lines in his faces hinted at far more smiles than worries. It was a face of strong, masculine beauty.

He really liked watching himself.

Especially when he could watch himself having fun. Fun like tearing down the pristine, untouched world of a youngster, like that lovely, barely conscious boy that hung in front of him, professionally secured.

What a joy to see him suffer, what a delight to watch him realising that humanity truly had no less monstrous monsters to offer than any other race, including the Drej.

Once more, he put his hands onto Cale's back, this time caressing him, kneading the flesh, pressing the bruise where the bolt of the stunner had hit him.

To Corso's increasing delight the boy groaned with dull pain, clearly indicating that he was coming back to consciousness.

"Oh, back among the living, I hear!", Corso said, his voice swinging both with mirth and barely harnessed desire.

Cale coughed.

"You're a true beauty, you know that?"

Corso's hands gently stroked the boys back, cupping the two firm muscles of his ass, holding him in his waist.

Cale moaned low, banging his head against the table.

"I know it hurts. But it'll stop anyway, so there's no point in hurting yourself."

Corso bent forward, until his mouth came close to Cale's ear. In a low and throaty voice, menacingly, he added:

"And, you know, I'm still going to hurt you more, so better brace yourself."

Cale tried to speak, but he only managed a mangled sound, forcing him to cough again.

"You shouldn't try to speak, not yet anyway."

Corso took in a deep breath, smelling his victim, smelling his body, his fear.
Then, grabbing into one of the deep pockets on the sides of his thighs, he dug out some few, tiny balls, colourless and translucent like glass, of the size of marbles.

Still grinning, Corso raised his hand above Cale's back and, with a flourish, crushed the brittle capsules in his fist.
For a moment, nothing happened, then a golden, oily liquid began dripping out of the captain's still-closed fist, languidly dripping down like honey, hitting the boy's back right above the bony triangle that introduced the cleavage of his ass.

Sensual and filled with anticipation, Corso watched the golden liquid run down slowly, gracing Cale's skin with even more sheen, until the drops combined and disappeared in the dark between his buttocks.
He discarded the emptied shells without a thought, throwing them in the approximate direction of the toilet, and playfully began to trace shiny patterns of lubricant on Cale's back.
A faint, nostalgic scent of lavender began to fill the room.
How utterly retro.

The blonde boy moved again, this time with more force and co-ordination than before.

"You fucking bastard!", Cale brought out between his teeth.

"Yes, here I am", Corso replied, his voice filled with relaxed amusement.

"You will not fucking rape me!"

The boy jerked wildly, tearing at his handcuffs, trying to kick away the dark-haired man.
But Corso, with a single, brutally forceful gesture, bashed Cale's head against the table he was lying on, leaving a bloodied smear, making the boy issue a pain-filled groan.

"You shouldn't try to resist, should you.", Corso said, clamping down Cale with his left hand firmly holding the blonde's neck, placing one of his booted feet on the short chain that connected the cuffs around Cale's ankles, thoroughly fixing his feet in one place.

"Resisting will only make me hurt you more. But then – that what the fun is all about, isn't it, my beauty?"

Deftly, as to drive his point home, Corso put his right hand, still glistening with lube, on the boy's exposed ass, pressing apart the muscled flesh, thoroughly spreading the lube, revelling in the feeling of flesh and lube under his bare hands.

Both men groaned softly, Cale from receding pain and rising panic, Corso from rising lust and receding restraint.

Once again, Corso bent forward until his mouth almost touched Cale's ear.

"You know what I love so much about you?", he asked, licking at Cale's ear with the tip of his tongue.
"You're a fighter. You're spirited. You don't give up though you know that there is no chance to win at all. You're great sports..."

With these words Corso bit into the boy's earlobe, gently a first, slowly increasing the pressure, until Cale bucked, screaming of anger and the taste of blood began to spread in his mouth.

The captain let go of him then, watching himself in the mirror, watching himself licking his blood-smeared lips.

"You're sick!", Cale screamed, still moving desperately, still being clamped down by Corso's apparently unmoveable hand in his neck.

"Well", Corso began, once more putting his right hand between Cale's legs.
"I couldn't care less."

He let his hand slide deeper, until his fingers touched Cale's balls, caressed them and ventured further to get hold of his dick, dangling limply yet full of promise.

"That's nice, he?", Corso asked, his hand now holding Cale's dick, greasing it with the rest of the lube that still clung to the captains hand, massaging it, expertly teasing it.

"Fuck YOU!", Cale screamed again, this time the shrill note of panic clearly audible.

"Oh, no, surely not."

Corso let go of Cale's dick, returning Cale's baleful look through the mirror, saying with perverse tenderness:

"You're the meat, tonight."

And once more, Corso bashed the boy's skull against the table, this time resulting in a loud wince and a bigger blood-smear.

For a moment, the captain drew back from the boy, swiftly opening his trousers, freeing his own dick from its confines. Stroking himself, enjoying the feel of his rapidly growing manhood, he took in the scenery that he saw in front of him.

Cale hanging on top of the washing-table, only half-conscious, blood smearing his face, his ass shiny of smeared lube.
He looked devastatingly gorgeous.
But then, who wouldn't?

With a playful smack on his victim's bottom, Corso returned to the boy, once again pinning him down onto the table with a vice-like grip on his neck.
His right hand alternately fondling his own dick and Cale's ass, he groaned of delight, all the while watching himself in the mirror.

Soon Corso felt himself as hard as could be, pulsing with anticipation, hardly able to stand the strain of not already fucking that delightfully presented meat in front of him.

He pulled up Cale's head by his hair, saying:

"Look at me, my little slut."

Cale blinked rapidly of pain, panic and confusion.

"I will see you face", Corso said, his voice coarse and animalistic, his right hand pushing up and down his hard-on between Cale's legs.

"I want to see your pain, your shock when I enter your body!"

And then, with a single thrust, Corso moved forward, shoving his dick forcefully between the boy's buttocks.
As he felt himself pried open, tearing, Cale screamed on top of his lungs, he screamed of pain, of anger and indignation; while all the time the captain watched his face contort in agony.
And laughed.

It was a mad and guttural sound that came forth of him, part lust-filled groan, part laugh, part the roar of a victorious predator.

Corso felt his dick slide into his victim, fill him, move inside of him. Still holding Cale's head by his hair, watching his shock-widened eyes, still watching himself in the mirror, the captain began to move. Slowly first, to cherish every single sensation; but too long he had waited for this moment to come.

Too great was his excitement at this situation, too much had Cale's futile resistance fuelled his passion – after two, three slow moves, Corso gritted his teeth and picked up pace.
Now his thrusts came rapidly, violently, painfully banging Cale against the table, the mirror.

But Corso didn't notice. His eyes, his whole mind were on the mirror in front of him, watching Cale, watching himself, observing every muscle in his chest go rigid with tension, seeing his own face contort in passion that sickeningly mirrored Cale's agony.

He started to sweat, and though he had intended to take him slow, to prolong Cale's suffering that the boy would have something to remember, now that he finally was fucking that little blond bastard, he only craved to come as soon as possible.

So he went on, fucking Cale as hard and violently as he could, grinning ferociously as he noticed the first beads of sweat running down his chest.
Corso loved watching himself.

Soon, he felt his passion rising, coming close to its peak. His whole body tensed up, his whole mind concentrating on the sensation of his hot, over-sensitive dick inside his colleagues son. He didn't even notice that he had begun to bash Cale's head against the table with every thrust of his own.

And, even less he noticed that the pain must have helped Cale to recover from his stupor – for suddenly, as Corso was already groaning in anticipation of his upcoming orgasm, Cale bucked up wildly, turning himself to the side.

Surprised at his victim's sudden violence in such inappropriate a situation, Corso let go of his head, so allowing Cale to turn around and shove the captain away from him.
But, distracted as Corso was, with his trousers almost down to his knees, he stumbled and fell in the tiny room. Cale was still too dazed, and though he tried to move out of his falling captains way, Corso still had one of his feet tangled in the cuffs that linked the boy's ankles. So Corso pulled away Cale's legs as he fell, bringing down the boy with him.

Yet unluckily, Cale's hands were still linked to the towel-rail, and so he landed bum-first on the ground, his arms twisted excruciatingly painful up behind his head, causing the boy to yell in pain.

Corso picked himself up from the ground, his face twisted in rage. Never before had one of his victims thrown him off like a yearling an inexperienced rider.
He went down on his knees, pinning Cale's legs firmly on the ground, bending down until he came face to face with the softly whimpering boy.

Corso looked at him, snorted in disgust, straightened and bashed his fist with full force into the boy's face.
The force of the impact yanked once more on Cale's already contorted arms, and this time he screamed of pure agony.

"You will never do this again", Corso ordered in a menacing hiss. "You have no idea how much pain a human can suffer before he falls unconscious."

The captain shifted his weight, placing on of his knees beside Cale's hip, the other one he planted slowly, deliberately onto the boy's dick and balls.
Cale only whimpered, his eyes filled with tears, looking nowhere.

"I told you you would suffer", Corso said, steadying himself with one hand on the towelrail.
"You had a chance to get this done quick, but now it'll take some more time. Your choice."

Straightening, the captain took his still-hard dick with his free right hand, carefully beginning to stroke it, ignoring the smears of blood that clung to its base.

"You know", Corso said, his voice growing rapidly unsteady with him rubbing his own dick, looking down on Cale, beaten and broken as he was.
"I can see that you try to hide inside your own head."
A passionate shudder ran through him.
"But that won't help. You'll remember everything.
And I'll take extra-care of that."

Moaning loudly, Corso leaned back his head, pushing his hips forward, his hand moving up and down rapidly the length of his dick.
His shifting weight put increased pressure on Cale's balls, hand the boy yelped in pain.

Then, still loudly groaning, Corso's whole body shuddered, his rubbing halted, the man's face contorting with intense pleasure. Suddenly, a heavy shot of cum left the captains dick, splattering on Cale's chest, and Corso began to jerk his dick again, groaning loudly, cumming all over the boy underneath him.

Silence fell in the little bathroom, only now and then disturbed by Cale's low sounds of pain and Corso's heavy breathing.
The captain took a long look on Cale, wiped away the sweaty strands of hair that clung to his forehead and took a deep breath.

"Man, that was GOOD."

He took his knee out of Cale's groin and bent forward.

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?", he asked, fake concern dripping out of his voice.
"It should have.", Corso added, a note of aggression in his voice again. " 'twas your first time, so it must've been special."

The captain touched the glistening streaks of sperm on Cale's chest thoughtfuly, smearing them across the boy's body.

"Can you smell it?", Corso asked. "That's the smell of me. Of my love on you body."

He took his cum-smeared hand and gently began to caress Cale's face, Cale's lips.

"Can you smell it? Can you taste it?"

Forcefully, Corso smeared the boy's lips with the sperm that still clung to his hand.

"This is what you will remember. Forever."

Abruptly, Corso stood up, looking around in the tiny room, Cale apparently almost forgotten.
He went over to the toilet, lifted it's seat and began to piss noisily.

When he had finished with a sigh of relief, he pulled up his trousers, closed them, looking around the room in search for his shirt.
When he had finally found it, he smelled at it, shrugged, wiped his hands an it and stuffed it into one of his back-pockets.

He took his time for a look in the mirror, checking his disarrayed hair, sighing, saying more to himself:

"I'll need a shower now, I think."

Corso's mind turned to Cale again, who still lay on the ground, his arms twisted up behind his head, his eyes half closed.

"You're a damm' good lay, you know that? But I better take my handcuffs back with me."

Deliberately, Corso once more took his stunner, aimed for the helpless, chained boy on the ground.

"Oh yes, one more thing: Get yourself cleaned before you cross my eyes again. You smell like a brothel."

And then he fired.

*******

"What have you done to him?", Corso was greeted by Prune as the captain re-entered the bridge of the Valkyrie.

"What do you mean?"

Corso had taken a shower, had changed and was now smoking one of his favourite cigars, reserved for very special occasions. He obviously was in a splendid mood.

"The boy. What did you do?"
Prune pointed one of his long, bony fingers accusingly towards one of the monitors near the captain's chair.

"Ah, you've been watching us!", Corso exclaimed, his mood still radiant.

"I – ", Prune began, halting himself before he could say something really stupid.

"I don't mind", Corso said with a dismissing gesture. "I'm sure we were quite entertaining."

He let himself drop onto his chair.

"Did you like it?"

Prune hesitated a moment, then said softly:

"I think you're disgusting."

"Mh", Corso said. "I already knew that."

"How could you do that to him?"

"I merely followed instinct." The Captain took a draft of his cigar and studied his First Mate for a moment.
"But that's not what you were asking, was it?"

He turned around in his chair, shifting his attention towards the screen, realising with a reminiscent grin that he was watching Cale's small bathroom through one of the hidden cameras.

Cale was still lying on the ground, bloodied, soiled, weeping softly.

"He'll recover."

"He'll kill you."

"No, not yet."

Corso turned around to face Prune again.

"He's made from sturdy stuff, that one. He'll hate me with a vengeance, despise me, that's for sure."

Prune looked at his captain with a mix of caution and disgust.

"Just watch him."

The Captain turned towards the monitor once more, pointing at Cale.

"Alright, he's still weeping like a wench, but soon he'll stop, straighten up, take another shower, get dressed, and when he'll finally show up again, he'll glare at me and otherwise pretend nothing has happened."

Prune looked unconvinced.

"He's just as his father, trust me. He'll suffer, he'll grit his teeth, he'll get over. Until my next visit."

Very pleased with himself, Corso leaned back, put his booted feet on one of the consoles, smoking, grinning.

"You humans are so sick."

"Maybe." Corso answered with a shrug, not even turning around to face Prune.

"But tell me then, Prune: Is it worse to follow your instincts and have some fun or to suffer terribly, only to put so much effort into getting over that you forget who hurt you? That you still are unprepared when evil comes the next time? And the times this? That's what I call sick."

"He'll kill you. I bet."

"I hold and raise. He'll probably run away one day. Too high ethics to kill me. Trust me, I'll still have quite some fun with him. He's as stupidly good as his father had been. Just as his father..."

 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus

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