Shore Leave

by Kimyō Tabibito (奇妙 旅人) and Tobias Stout
illustrated by beili

Lieutenant Treng is about to prove correct several stereotypes about soldiers, which are as follows:

One: It’s frowned upon to sleep with fellow grunts on a starship, so by the time leave rolls around they’re absolutely desperate for anything besides their own hand.

Two: As a rule, they don’t use ‘premium’ brothels because they’re too stingy — or, in the case of lower-ranked officers like Treng, they can’t afford them.

Three: They have exactly the kinds of kinks one would expect regarding domination and aggression, especially younger soldiers with something to prove.

These stereotypes stay in Treng’s mind as he considers the entrance to a cheap brothel on a backwater mining station, and later as he makes certain requests of a scene and partner, and later still as his heart hammers in his throat from anticipatory nerves as he’s led to a back room. For months he’s ached to feel someone under his body, pinned and helpless. It’s probably not an unusual request in this place.

The gimmick at this brothel — and a reminder that it’s the cheapest, given it needs a gimmick in the first place — is all the sex workers go by mineral or gemstone names. Quartz is a hard name for the soft person waiting for Treng, all wide hips and thick thighs with broad shoulders and an ample stomach. Their light gray eyes are striking, and currently giving Treng a dubious look.

“Awfully young for a sadist. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Treng raises an eyebrow, recognizing the challenge for what it is. “I know my way around the basics and I know enough not to maim. Would you like references?”

Quartz cocks their head to the side, resting a hand on a hip as they name their rather inflated prices for a night. “You may bruise me as much as you like, but no blood. Standard house rules.” 

Treng does the math. He could simply fuck anyone in the brothel for a fraction of Quartz’s named price. Hell, he could order an orgy and still come in under budget. But Treng doesn’t want a simple fuck anymore than he wants his own hand, and Quartz’s light brown skin is lush and tempting. He’s already making a payment through his augment the moment his math comes out in Quartz’s favor. “Done.”

“Eager, aren’t you, Lieutenant Treng?” 

“Extremely. Undress, please.” Treng likes the simplicity with sex workers. After agreeing to the rules of the house and Quartz’s personal limits, there is nothing more to discuss unless it comes up during the scene.

Quartz smirks as they unrobe gracefully, letting black silk fall to the floor. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

Treng likes the challenge Quartz is offering him. He likes the way they don’t just belly up because Treng says so, the way their expression urges him to earn it. Treng especially likes the curve of their belly just barely covering their mons and the small dick nestled below. He hadn’t specified gender or genital configuration as part of his booking and is as happy to get his hands on an alt willing to submit as he would a man or woman.

“I don’t believe in wasting time,” he murmurs, drinking in Quartz’s naked, unmarked skin. “Turn around.”

Quartz cants their hips almost petulantly as they comply, displaying a generous ass that Treng just can’t ignore. In a breath he’s closed the space between the both of them, one hand on Quartz’s shoulder and the other biting into his hip. The alt draws a startled breath when Treng slaps their ass.

“Why would I waste any time when I have such a feast before me?” Treng continues with another slap, harder this time.

“No pleasantries first?” Quartz quips back. They have just enough time to spread and brace their feet against the floor before Treng’s third blow lands. Quartz’s barely audible gasp is a sweet sound to Treng’s ears.

“First you doubt me, now you want pleasantries?” Treng laughs as his fourth stroke lands hard across Quartz’s upper thigh. “Here I thought I was paying to have my way with you, not to be polite.”

“And you are paying so very well,” Quartz purrs. “By all means, Lieutenant Treng, show me your best.” 

Far be it from him not to rise to a challenge. Treng delivers five more stinging slaps to Quartz’s ass, letting the sound echo in the room before he steps away, excitement tamped and movements brisk. “Show me where you keep your tools and get a pair of heavy cuffs,” he demands as he begins to take off his uniform jacket, slinging it aside. 

A hidden panel conceals a rack of implements like floggers, paddles, and crops, while the bedside table is helpfully stocked with cuffs and rope. A smaller drawer opens on all manner of insertable objects and bottles of lube. Treng must be gawking at the selection because Quartz huffs back a laugh and pushes the leather cuffs into his hands. It’s the work of moments to pull the alt’s arms behind their back, tightening the cuffs and securing the chain running between them.

“On your knees.” Even as he speaks he pushes down on Quartz’s shoulders. Quartz has just enough time to sink down and smile before Treng frees his hardening cock and presses it against their lips. His hands fist in their short black hair and for a wild moment he thinks he’s done something wrong, that he’s gone too fast or hasn’t proven himself in some way. Then Quartz’s soft lips part to take him into their mouth and that moment is gone. Nerves are quickly replaced by the wet heat of a clever tongue coaxing him to full hardness.

Treng allows himself to take what he wants, hands pulling Quartz’s head forward as he thrusts deeper. They gag once, then again when Treng doesn’t stop forcing his way into their throat. Quartz tenses with a sharp inhale before relaxing and swallowing around his cock. And oh, Quartz is good with that theatrical little moan hitting Treng in all the right ways; this is why he’d wanted to see a professional in the first place.

“I’m going to come down your throat,” Treng whispers as he fucks their mouth. “And then I’m going to beat your ass and thighs until I’m ready for round two.” He jerks Quartz back by the hair, admiring the swell of their lips, the spark of hungry interest in their eyes.

“And then what?” Quartz asks, voice rasping.

“I’m going to make you come and fuck that beautiful fat cunt until you’re begging for another orgasm.” He punctuates this with the heavy slap of his cock against Quartz’s cheek.

Quartz smiles, lips swollen and slick. “I’d like to see you try, Lieutenant.” They lean in and swallow Treng back down, all the way to the hilt. Treng’s hands tighten again in that short hair, cock throbbing as Quartz struggles to breathe around the prolonged stretch. Before he realizes what’s happening he’s coming, far sooner than intended, hot and thick down Quartz’s throat. 

Quartz pulls away with an obscene, wet sound, delicately licking their lips like a satisfied cat. When they open their mouth to speak, Treng cuts them off with a finger pressed to their lips. “How much warm up do you need?” he demands.

Quartz blinks, licks Treng’s finger, and in lieu of an answer speaks around it. “Ah, to be young again.”

“I asked you a question.” Treng’s voice is uneven, face flushed, hands trembling in excitement, but he knows exactly what he wants as he reaches for a crop. 

“It’s always nice to have foreplay, but I believe you pointed out you weren’t paying to be nice.” Quartz leans back on their heels and gives Treng a once over. “Nice is boring. Nice is cheap. You’ll find I’m neither.” 

Treng hefts the crop in his hands, breath hitching as the salacious expression on Quartz’s face. His wrist flicks and the loop of the crop hits Quartz’s soft chest just below a nipple. Again, the motion coming easier to him this time, a careful movement of his hand and the leather does catch a nipple. Quartz jerks with a genuine hiss of pain through their teeth that goes straight to Treng’s cock. Desire flows from him as he starts circling the alt, watching the crop land again and again on their chest, then their side, then their back. 

He loves how reactive Quartz is, how their body jiggles when struck, how they groan when Treng orders them on their feet and bent over so he can rain blows against a fat ass and thighs. His cock is rock hard again and he finally makes himself stop, just so he can push against Quartz, bent over and using the bed for balance, to grip that ass in his hands. He squeezes hard, relishing how Quartz writhes under his greedy touch. Fingers slide up and over the curves of their back and sides, gripping hard at rolls of skin covered in welts.

“You’re a fucking painslut,” he whispers into Quartz’s ear. “You just keep fucking taking it.”

“And you’re a brute, but you haven’t even gotten me close to what I can take.” There’s no give in that tone, though Quartz trembles ever so slightly from desire, or nerves, or perhaps both. Treng can’t tell; either way, he wants all of it, everything Quartz will give him. 

In a considerable display of strength, Treng hauls Quartz to standing and drags them both onto the bed. He loves the solid weight of Quartz in his arms, the strength of those soft limbs that nevertheless still yield for him. He shoves their thighs open with satisfaction and cups their cunt in his hands.

“Too much?” he manages as his fingers part Quartz’s outer labia and close around the alt’s dick. It’s just long enough to properly stroke, making Quartz shudder and gasp.

“It’s cute you think you’re scary,” Quartz taunts until Treng’s fingers begin to pinch and squeeze, nails digging into tender skin.

“Is that a challenge?”

To his astonishment, Quartz barks out a laugh. “I’ve been challenging you since you–” But they don’t finish their sentence because Treng’s fingers have left their dick and instead thrust deep into the wet heat of their cunt, with neither warning nor warmup. For all their taunting bravado, Quartz’s entrance is sloppy and eager for the intrusion.

“I see I’m not trying hard enough,” Treng says softly, other hand coming up to grab a nipple and twist, viciously. Quartz cries out as Treng squeezes and twists again, and again, alternating between nipples and finger-fucking Quartz deeper until they’ve stopped talking. Thighs press together and catch Treng’s hand as he hurts Quartz so carefully, pinching swollen nipples, stretching their cunt wider and deeper.

Treng finally relents and trails nails down Quartz’s belly, across their mons, and finally settling around their dick. He’s rough with that tender flesh, too, setting a demanding pace as he strokes hard along their length. Quartz begins thrashing on the bed, seemingly unable to keep from crying out in pain, or pleasure, or maybe both. As those cries become more frantic, Treng’s slick hands suddenly pull away. Quartz begins a wordless protest that Treng interrupts by thrusting fingers into their mouth, forcing them to be licked clean.

“I thought you were going to beat me,” Quartz gasps when their mouth is finally free.

“When I’m good and ready for it.” Treng’s hand trails across their stomach and back along a hip, kneading soft skin, delighting in how it gives under his fingers. “Oh that’s good,” Treng murmurs, leaning to bite Quartz’s shoulder while fingers slide lower still, back into their cunt. His mouth sucks a bruise against Quartz’s skin, making the alt writhe. Treng ignores his throbbing cock and Quartz’s swollen dick, instead focused on the constellation of love bites and teeth marks he’s pressing over throat and shoulder. Crops and impacts are a delight, but a bite is a visceral connection to Quartz, raw and connecting more intimately than the kiss of leather. 

“Shit,” Quartz hisses as Treng leaves a particularly vivid bruise on their throat, a tremble in their voice that makes Treng feel like he’s won some kind of game.

Floggers are pretty, biting is intimate, but Treng’s blood is singing for a proper sort of pain and Quartz has invited it more than once. He reaches for a wide leather strap split in two, an old fashioned tawse; the grip feels like it was made for his hand. He’s never used one before but he understands the theory well enough, how either side of the tawse lands with a thud and the narrow gap between them coaxes stinging, angry welts to the surface.

Quartz looks at Treng holding the tawse for a long moment before nodding, just once. “Fuck, yes.”

Treng’s smile lights up his entire face in a gleeful sort of malice. He stands at the side of the bed and takes a few practice blows against a pillow, getting a feel for the weight and swing of the tawse. Quartz twitches and keeps their gaze on Treng’s face. Something in their features shift, a wariness leaving their eyes that Treng hadn’t even noticed until it’s gone. He realizes he’s been met with a silent approval and it makes his chest bloom in pleasure and pride.

For the first time that night, he leans forward and presses his mouth  to Quartz’s. Out of everything else he’s done, the kiss is almost shy. Quartz smiles against Treng’s lips and opens their own, inviting a tangle of tongue and heated moans and the lingering taste of Quartz’s own slick in their mouths.

“Please, Sir,” Quartz begs, excitement and respect both finally coloring their voice, “Show me what you’ve got.”

They aren’t goading or testing anymore, but finally letting themselves submit to Treng’s sadism. The hairs on Treng’s arms stand as he reaches to maneuver Quartz, undoing the cuffs and guiding them carefully back to the bed, this time belly down. As Quartz reaches for pillows to bolster themselves, Treng finds a dildo in the bedside drawer and slides it into their cunt with a single, savage thrust. Quartz barely has time to shudder before Treng forces their legs closed again.

“What a good little slut,” Treng murmurs as he sits at the edge of the bed and rubs his hands over Quartz’s ass and thighs. “Beautiful fat ass to play with, a slick eager cunt to stuff.”

This time Quartz doesn’t talk back, just moans and thrusts against the touch. Treng kisses down their spine, soft for just a moment before he stands and picks up the tawse. One hand rests between Quartz’s shoulder blades as he braces himself and swings. The tawse hits flesh with a beautiful crack that makes Treng’s cock ache. 

Over and over Treng carefully works the tawse across Quartz’s body, at first not allowing strikes to overlap. The flush of pink skin quickly turns to a brilliant red and Treng groans. He’s trying not to rush, but it’s hard to maintain control when he wants so much more. He needs to push, to hurt Quartz, to hear them scream. He’d questioned his sadism a great deal since coming into himself, but it always comes down to the heady joy of taking control, breaking someone down into mindless and needy lust. The joy from trust that allows pleasure to manifest as screams and tears, and the shaking mess carefully molded back into a human shape at the end.

He breathes, grounding and focusing before the leather to cracks against Quartz’s thighs. The resulting flinch is one of the most viscerally compelling things he’s ever seen. Again and again he brings the leather down, letting the strokes overlap now as reddened skin darkens with the promise of bruise. Quartz tenses and struggles, Treng hauling them back by the hair whenever they move too far for his liking.

“Please,” they finally gasp. “Mercy.” House rules specify safewords. ‘Mercy’ is not one of them.

“No,” he whispers, one hand holding the alt in place as the tawse lashes out. Welts form, angry lines of skin that sting just to look at. Quartz keeps begging as Treng hits them again, and again, and again, only stopping once Quartz’s voice gives out and his own arm starts to ache. He finally stands back, the tawse dropping to the ground as he surveys the inflicted damage. The ache in his cock is unbearable now and he decides he’s waited long enough. “Roll over on your back,” he rasps, voice sounding strange in his own ears. The command is going to hurt to obey. Anything pressing against that abused skin is going to hurt.

Quartz is slow to move, shifting first onto their side and then their back with a hiss through gritted teeth as their weight presses the welts firmly into the bed. Their thighs splay open, displaying the glisten of slick across their swollen labia and the handle of the dildo still stuffed in their cunt. The softest, sweetest whimper leaves their lips as they watch Treng, breathless.

Treng undresses fully now, the rest of his clothes joining his uniform jacket before he kneels on the bed. He grips their thick thighs and pushes them as wide as they’ll go. “Keep your legs wide or I’ll stop,” he threatens before lowering himself and taking the length of Quartz’s dick between his mouth. His tongue strokes along the small, flared head, lapping in pointed strokes meant to make Quartz squirm, then whimper as they press back against their abused ass and thighs.

Treng likes the sharp sour-savory tang of their slick, the feel of their cock against his tongue as he begins to work the dildo further into their body. Quartz’s sounds grow more and more frantic, hands smacking down on the bed as they flail against the abrupt onslaught. They suddenly seize, back arching as they shout with release. Treng’s hands are tight on their hips now, forcing them to stay in place as he keeps sucking and licking their dick. Quartz starts to thrash, pleading once more, but this time for Treng to stop, that they’ve already come, please, no more. Treng ignores them until it’s too much for him.

In one fluid motion he’s pushed himself away from Quartz, pulled the dildo from their cunt, and buried his dick in them so fast he’s almost dizzy. Their body feels so good, warm and giving as hands sink into tender flesh and his cock sinks to the hilt. Together they rock in a frantic meeting of bodies, Quartz wordlessly crying out as their eyes roll back in bliss, Treng thrusting erratically as he squeezes the roll of their belly and finds himself lost to the pleasure. He takes and he takes, losing himself as Quartz’s cunt starts tightening around his cock.

There’s no warning as he slams into Quartz with sharp jerks of his hips, sensation pooling deep inside him before he comes for a second time that night, a gutteral sound ripped from his mouth. He forgets how words work, for a few moments. He collapses on the bed beside Quartz and murmurs something – maybe their name, maybe praise. Whatever it is makes Quartz huff out a laugh.

“Oh fuck,” Treng finally says, a little weakly.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Quartz breathes, rolling over and spooning Treng. Their breathing still comes fast and there’s a lazy smile on their face as they lay their head on his shoulder.

“Fuck,” Treng repeats, closing his eyes, turning to nestle in the soft warmth of Quartz’s body. Everything is right with the world, hazy and perfect as he soaks in the orgasm and the satisfaction of a need well fulfilled. “I… you…”

“You did good, kid,” Quartz promises him, bringing up an arm to rest around his middle. “Feel better?”

Treng knew he’d needed sex, but now that the desire for violence has been sated he feels calm and content in a way he hasn’t known for some time. He wonders how the hell he’s supposed to go back to his ship knowing this is what he needs. He wonders how he’s supposed to last until the next leave.

Quartz takes his chin and presses a soft kiss to his lips, stopping the thoughts that want to encroach. “You did good,” they repeat. “Do you want to clean up, or…?”

Or, there’s still more time in the evening Treng’s already paid for. And he probably won’t be the first client to spend more money for additional hours after the first round. Part of him wants to take advantage of as much sex as he can right now, but this, laying in a post-coital tangle of limbs, softly petting Quartz and allowing himself to be pet in return…

“Let me think about it,” he says.

“Take all the time you need, Lieutenant.”

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4 thoughts on “Shore Leave

  1. this is a well-crafted nugget of a story. i really enjoyed the descriptions, soft vs hard, and the picture nails it! Thanks!!

  2. Stories that treat sadist characters as actual people with needs and emotions, instead of terrifying, unknowable monsters, are in such short supply at times, so it’s a breath of fresh air to see an entire story where the lead’s getting off on hurting someone while still half-mired in a swamp of self-evaluation! Topics like sex work can be thorny ones if handled badly; given the confidence rippling out of Quartz at every point, they clearly don’t need the reader’s pity, and also understand their own value. Too bad for Treng’s wallet! He seems to get off on the challenge a professional like Quartz can offer, so we probably don’t need to feel too bad about the fate of his bank account.

    The art is delightful, of course; Quartz has a striking profile and the confidence with they hold themselves really sets the mood for the rest of the story. I love that little hand-on-sternum gesture!

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