M/M erotica, sci-fi
When Pingucury raiders attack their rig, hunky roughneck clone foreman Iker and his equally buff pal Peregrine are forced to flee. The friends encounter Ohannes, a sweet and submissive pleasure clone who offers them shelter.
Peregrine Cenric Varga knew trouble was coming when he heard
the deafening roar of multiple motors and saw the dust cloud obscuring the
setting suns on the horizon. The muscular 55-year-old roughneck clone turned to
his foreman, 59-year-old Iker Mehmûd Macauley, who was looking through his
binoculars at the approaching Pingucury raiders.
“Any chance for defense?” Peregrine inquired.
“Negative,” Iker replied, shaking his head. “We need to
scatter to the four winds and hope that the military was prepared for this. I
would have protested assignment to Igrobos had I known that we would be facing
constant attacks from the Pingucury. I’m a simple Hangiri clone rigger, not a
fucking career soldier or military clone.”
Iker gave his crew the signal to abandon the Hangiri rig,
and the men hurried to their hover-chops, putting as much distance between them
and the raiders as possible. The Pingucury were infamous for their brutality to
Sometimes the raiders’ only goal was to steal the raw Gaccov
brought to the surface by the Hangiri rig, but this lot also had bloodshed as
their goal judging by their impassioned pursuit of the departing roughnecks.
“Scatter!” Iker ordered his team. “Try to keep them away
from the settlements. Where the hell are the damn Xawei? They need to do their
jobs and protect our people!”
“Drunk or fucking horny Gaccov execs with a uniform fetish,
I imagine,” Peregrine mused. “Let’s make for that abandoned homestead to the
North. Maybe there are old animal blankets or some hay in that stable to hide
the chops under.”
“I hope that there’s a reasonably comfortable and
well-hidden cellar to camp in until the threat has passed,” Iker mused. “Preferably
one with rations and booze.”
The men cut the lights on their hover-chops and set the
engines to coast. They cruised over the dry fields to the stable, where they
parked the vehicles and covered them with old blankets and hay. They focused
their attention on finding a hiding place.
“Ike, we ain’t alone,” Peregrine whispered. “There’s someone
up in the loft.”
“Shit! Well, we’d better bring ‘em with us before they have
a chance to get themselves and us captured by the Pingucury. That’s the last
fucking thing I need is a scared civvy to babysit. Anyways, I hope that it’s a
civvy and not a nest of Pingucury.”
Iker climbed the ladder to the loft with Peregrine close
behind. The men drew their plasma pistols, setting them to stun.
“Come on out, we ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Iker called quietly.
“But we all need to find a better place to hide and quick. The Pingucury are
closing in, and they don’t care much about the Uturn Convention rules for
treatment of prisoners.”