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"description": "In this 10-page chapter, we have Zal coming to grips with what waits for him at the end of the journey, and what that might mean for him.\n\nCommissioned by Quarian\n\nIf you want to get a commission for yourself, keep an eye on my journals and my twitter DraconiconWrite for updates on when I'm open.\n\nIf you're interested in supporting me, or just contributing more regularly - and cheaply - than commissions, consider visiting my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/draconiconlibrary?ty=h for good rewards and better stories.\n\nEnjoy.",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "In this 10-page chapter, we have Zal coming to grips with what waits for him at the end of the journey, and what that might mean for him.
Commissioned by Quarian
If you want to get a commission for yourself, keep an eye on my journals and my twitter DraconiconWrite for updates on when I'm open.
If you're interested in supporting me, or just contributing more regularly - and cheaply - than commissions, consider visiting my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/draconiconlibrary?ty=h for good rewards and better stories.
Enjoy.",
"writing": "[b][u][center]Two Scouts, One Sole\nPart 4\nFor Quarian\nBy Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIt was a long journey across the sands. A week or so in space was easily tolerated, if boring if you weren’t prepared for it; that same time in the desert, with the toxic winds driving on to cover and the heat forbidding any sight of the sun while it was over the horizon, was far more exhausting. Zal’Haar had weathered it, and the Quarian told himself that he had grown stronger for it. \n\nHe wasn’t sure that he believed himself, but he said it again and again to make it stick. \n\n“Mmmph…ah…”\n\n“Still bothering you, soft-foot?” Chas asked. \n\n“No…”\n\nIt was a lie, of course. The itching spray had been applied every day, and it was only in the last twenty-four hours that he had managed to keep from touching it – or trying to – during their walk. The worst had been two days ago when Chas had sprayed it directly between his cheeks, getting it right into his anus, and it had driven him [i]mad[/i] as they walked across the shifting sands. It never spread further between his cheeks, thankfully, but the utter prickling itch that had bloomed there had nearly torn his sanity to shreds. \n\nIn comparison, the itch applied to his feet and his shaft was hardly annoying at all. At least when it was sprayed on his soles and between his toes, the act of walking through the sand took care of some of the itch, and on his cock…\n\nWell, he could fool himself into thinking that it was at least a little sexy. Kept him hard, at the very least, even if he couldn’t do a thing with it. \n\n“Your cock is loud,” Chas said. \n\n“What’s that supposed to mean?”\n\n“I mean I can hear it slapping your stomach.”\n\n“…”\n\n“Enjoying yourself?”\n\n“…Maybe.”\n\nThe Drell chuckled, keeping up his rapid pace across the sands. They had left the mountain behind and were on approach to something else that had been hidden behind it: a dune that rose atop some sort of rock pile, where scavenged metals formed walls that looked down on the sands around it. To Zal, it looked like some sort of fortress rather than one of the rare points of Pilgrimage that he had been hoping to see. \n\n“Friends of yours?” he grunted as he followed behind. \n\n“My clan.”\n\n“I thought you were guiding me to a spaceport.”\n\n“Far off. We need supplies.”\n\n“From them?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“And no other reason?”\n\nChas looked back at him. There was nothing to be read on his face, and Zal sighed. If there was an ulterior motive, he’d find out soon enough, he supposed. From the way that it loomed in the distance, he was pretty sure that they’d reach the risen walls before dawn. If not…well, it was going to get really, really hot for them, because he couldn’t see any shelter between them and the rock. \n\nHis cock twitched again, and he glared down at it as it swung up and hit his stomach. He hadn’t paid attention to it since they set up, ignoring the itch as best he could, but that meant ignoring everything else between his legs. And now that he was aware of it again – \n\n“Hssst…”\n\n[i]Please, don’t have heard that,[/i] he thought, gritting his teeth as he followed along, barely suppressing the urge to cross his legs against each other. [i]Please, let that be too quiet for you to hear.[/i]\n\nIf Chas had heard it, the Drell made no sign of it. They just kept walking…and walking…and walking. The sand shifted underfoot, his cock swayed from side to side, and the dripping started again. \n\n[i]Just ignore it. Just ignore all that pent-up need. You’ll be getting off later when you get the chance to lick his feet or…anything else that he has in mind…[/i]\n\nEvery night had been one more reminder of just what a tender sole’s use was for those that were ‘hard-heeled,’ as Chas had described himself. Just last night, he had been made to take that cock between his lips, sucking on it more than he expected to – there was something about the scent, or the pheromones, or something – and then…\n\nThen he’d offered his mouth to…the other man’s urine. \n\nJust the thought of how far he’d fallen as a ‘tender sole’ was enough to keep him hard and blushing at the same time. He’d never had that happen before, not on the Citadel, not with the few other lovers that he’d taken that were safe. It was completely new to him, and the sheer embarrassment and [i]ease[/i] of it all – and that was the hardest thing to understand, why it was so easy – just left him burning with both humiliation and a greater lust than he had ever had in his life. It continued to throb and beg for attention with every step, and it took most of his willpower to shut it down and ignore it. \n\nWell, mostly ignore it. It continued to pulse, throbbing and – \n\n[i]Mmmph.[/i]\n\nItching. It was like scratchy feathers right under his tip, rubbing against the slightly broad head of his shaft and keeping it from getting any rest. Stimulating, but irritating, almost like bits of sand that had been caught in the flesh. It got worse if he dripped too much pre-cum, and yet, the irritation and itching was just causing him to drip more. It was a self-perpetuating cycle, and he couldn’t stop himself from enjoying it on some level. \n\nHe just wished that his cock would stop giving away how much he liked it. Zal huffed, forcing himself to pick up the pace, thinking of anything but his cock again. The sand under his feet, the night wind, the feeling of being utterly naked in public – \n\nNope, not that one, but it was too late now. If Chas was keeping him like this now, what would it be like when they got to Clan Droek and he was exposed to even more Drell? What would they say? For that matter, what would they do to the new ‘tender sole’ among their numbers? It was one thing to be treated like this by his guide, but he wasn’t sure if he could take having that many tribal Drell pushing themselves on him in the same fashion. \n\n[i]What am I getting myself into?[/i]\n\nNo answer, more or less as expected. \n\nZal forced himself to keep walking, but the more that he started thinking about the fortress that lay ahead, the more that his libido started kicking in. So many what-ifs were dancing in his head. \n\nWere they all as sexy as Chas?\n\nWere they all going to bully him with their feet?\n\nHow many ways was he going to be forced to serve them?\n\nWould he be at the very bottom of their hierarchy, or would his ‘tender sole’ talents put him a bit further up the ladder, giving him at least a little bit of pride of place?\n\nThere were so many possibilities whistling around in his brain, and with all of them being at least a little bit sexy, it was impossible not to feel at least a little bit more aroused. He shivered, biting his lips as he forced himself to keep pace with his guide for as long as he could, but eventually – \n\n“I need a break,” Zal muttered. \n\n“What was that?”\n\n“Need…a break…please.”\n\n“Fine.”\n\nChas turned them off their path. The Quarian had long-since given up understanding how the other man could just pick out where the solid parts of the sand were for rests and just trusted him at this point. It had to be some sort of long-learned understanding of how Rakhana worked, and he wasn’t going to just pick it up. Particularly without the various scanners in his suit that he was so used to using. \n\nThey sat down, Chas on the slightly higher rock, and him on the lower one. He stretched out his legs, his thighs spread, and he huffed as he put his hands under them to resist reaching down and groping himself. \n\n“Tired, or horny?” Chas asked. \n\n“Both,” he muttered under his breath. “Still…better than I have been doing. Right?”\n\n“Better than you have been,” the Drell said, nodding. “Not quite as good as some soft-foots, better than some.”\n\n“Can’t you be more specific than that? How much better than them? Am I in the bottom half or the top? How would I compare to the soft-foots in your little clan, hmmm?”\n\nChas just smiled. \n\n“You’re infuriating, you know that?”\n\n“It has been said.”\n\nShaking his head, Zal wrapped his arms around his middle. Now that they weren’t moving, he was more aware of the wind and the chill that filled the desert at night. When they were walking around, the sheer amount of effort that it took to cross the sand kept him more than warm enough, and the bits of heat that oozed from pockets in the sand during the night helped that to no small extent. Staying still, however, and in a place where the wind blew and the sand was cool, brought all that cold home. \n\nBut at least it kept him from being as itchy. He would take that right now. He would take that and be very, very thankful. \n\n“You think you’ll move on?” Chas asked. \n\n“…You keep asking me about that,” Zal said, looking the blue Drell in the eye. “Why do you keep asking? I’m starting to think that you don’t want me to go or something.”\n\n“There are…possibilities here. And you say you are not like other Quarians.”\n\n“Heh…not even close, no.”\n\n“Then why go back?”\n\n“Responsibilities.”\n\n“Mmm-hmm.”\n\n“What?”\n\n“Doesn’t sound right. Rings hollow.”\n\nZal shook his head, fighting off the brief twinge between his legs as the itch surged for a moment, his cock bouncing up and oozing down the underside of his shaft. He curled his toes tightly, gouging out brief-lived valleys in the sand before he was able to calm himself once more. \n\n“Well, what do you think it is, then?”\n\n“Do you really want to know?”\n\n“Yeah. If you’re so sure, tell me.”\n\n“I think you’re scared of how much you want it.”\n\nZal blinked. Chas shrugged. \n\n“You jumped on this as soon as I talked about it. You never said no. You let me do whatever I wanted, as long as it involved feet. You stared at me, hard as a rock, as soon as I told you that my people involve our soles in everything. It was all you could think about. There was nothing more in your mind.\n\n“I make the invitation because you want it. You clearly want it.”\n\n“What makes you think I’d abandon my people?”\n\n“Because you haven’t said no.”\n\n“I…”\n\nIt was true. He’d never outright said ‘no.’ The most he’d even said as an answer was a teasing maybe, but he’d never said no. He’d just asked why the Drell kept asking him about it. At no point had he actually flat-out denied that he wanted something like this. \n\nAnd the more that he thought about it, the more he realized how terrifyingly tempting the whole live as a tender sole actually was. If he was valued there – if he was as good as the others, or better – then they would treat him the way that Chas did. They would put him in his place, they would make use of his feet, and he’d live a life that was more or less completely focused on kink and pleasure. \n\nHis. \n\nTheirs. \n\nEveryone’s. \n\n[i]And with only playful shame…[/i]\n\nA shiver ran down his spine. If he really had something like that offered to him, if he knew that it would work out, long-term, it would be [i]very[/i] hard to get back to the Fleet. They were just…\n\n[i]Cruel? Judgmental?[/i]\n\nNot to most of the Quarians in it, but for those that stepped outside of the social norms and wanted other things, yes. The Fleet had to be unified, according to the Admiralty. With the Fleet being as spread out and sprawling as it was, there was no way for them to do anything but speak with a unanimous voice. Dissenters – or defects, as some had called him for his proclivities behind his back – were not welcome, because they weakened the voice of the people as a whole. \n\nAnd if they didn’t want him…\n\nZal shook his head. That way lay dangerous thoughts, thoughts that would leave him at odds with the only people that he knew. The Fleet was flawed, but without them – \n\n“You are tempted,” Chas said. “What really holds you back?”\n\n“…What if it isn’t as good as it sounds?”\n\n“Nothing is,” the blue-skinned Drell said, shaking his head. “And those that say it is are lying.”\n\n“Then why –”\n\n“I have heard a phrase from others. ‘Perfect is the enemy of good’?”\n\n“It’s more ‘Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good,’ but yes.”\n\n“If it is better than what you have, why not try it?”\n\n“Because I might change my mind. Because it might not last. Because there might be other things that I haven’t thought of in a group that don’t work when I like doing this with you.”\n\n“Because of fear.”\n\n“…Yes, I guess.”\n\n“Are your people often afraid?”\n\n“Constantly,” Zal said, chuckling under his breath as he finally pulled his legs together, his knees against his chest. “We live in suits that keep us alive on all the other worlds. If we take them off, we have to quarantine and go through extreme medical treatment just to make sure that we don’t have deadly infections. Everyone sees us as thieves, as useful mechanics that need to be searched every time we go anywhere, and they’re always happy to see the back of us once we’ve fulfilled our part of the deal.”\n\n“And yet, you still explore.”\n\n“Because I have to.”\n\n“What do you hope to find?”\n\n“…A way home, I guess.”\n\n“And home is…?”\n\nEvery Quarian had the same answer for that, and until that moment, Zal thought that he shared at least that with the rest of the Fleet. He opened his mouth, meaning to speak of his homeworld…\n\nBut when he tried, the words wouldn’t come. \n\nAs much as he wanted to talk about the Geth and how the homeworld had been taken from them, as much as he wanted to explain the way that his people had been sent running, fleeing for their lives as they lost everything, to tell the tale of Quarians…it just wouldn’t come. The words were there, but the resonance that had driven all Quarians since they were old enough to understand the story was gone. \n\nWhat was on their homeworld? What was waiting there? They were so maladjusted to anything outside of their suits that it would be no different there than in space. All that would change would be that the Quarians favored by the Admiralty would actually have land, would have the space to spread out and sprawl and live their lives outside the ships. Everyone else would be treated exactly the same. \n\nHe’d still be the outsider. \n\nHe’d still be the one that they judged. \n\nHe’d still have to find his own path, just like he had always done since becoming a scout for the Fleet. \n\nIt hit him all at once, and he stared at his guide with his mouth hanging wide open. Chas just looked back at him this time. No smile, no teasing remarks, just a simple stare, waiting for his answer. \n\n“…I guess…I don’t know anymore,” Zal muttered. \n\n“Then you have thinking to do.”\n\n“I do.”\n\n“Come.”\n\n“I…can I have a minute?”\n\nChas stood up slowly. The Drell looked down at him, head cocked to the side. Zal looked back up. \n\n“What? I said, can I have a minute?”\n\n“Will you accept the answer ‘no’?”\n\n“Right now? I’m being polite.”\n\n“Then I will be direct.”\n\nChas moved quickly, quicker than Zal knew that the broad-shouldered man actually could. His hands grabbed the Quarian’s knees and pushed them apart, and his foot came up and onto the rock and – \n\n“NNGH!”\n\nZal gasped for breath as the Drell’s heel rested right on his sac, grinding back and forth slowly. It wasn’t enough to be the pure pain that would have come if someone had actually kicked him down there, but it was more than enough discomfort to pin him in place and keep him from fighting back. The Drell leaned in, putting just a little more weight on the sac, his toes pushing Zal’s cock up and against his belly. \n\n“I have been gentle, but you are not the guide. You are not suited for the desert. How long does it take to reach our destination?”\n\n“…”\n\n“How long?”\n\n“I guessed…we’d reach it by – nngh…dawn…”\n\n“If we take no further breaks, we will reach the shaded gate just as the sun rises. If we wait any longer, we will have to run. Can you run, as you are?”\n\n“…No.”\n\n“Is your need for a break so strong that you want to risk both our lives?”\n\n“…No.”\n\n“Then what are you right now?”\n\n“Mmmph…”\n\nChas leaned further forward, and Zal hissed through clenched teeth as the hard, firm heel of the other man ground into his balls. They ached, sending very specific pain right up his spine, but the toes curling tight around his shaft kept him from being able to go soft. He wanted to, almost; it would have taken the humiliation out of the moment from still being hard from this sort of – \n\n“NNNGH!”\n\nJust that tiny bit more, right on the threshold of actually going into the realm of pain. He gasped, huffing, his eyes closed tight as he felt Chas’s breath against his cheek .\n\n“What are you?”\n\n“Mmmph…a…a soft-foot.”\n\n“And?”\n\n“Selfish.”\n\n“Yes. You are.”\n\nThe pressure eased off, and he was able to breathe without shaking as much as he had been. He sucked down air, closing his eyes tight as Chas pulled him upright by the collar. \n\n“Whatever your fears are, whatever leaves your knees shaking, figure it out as we walk. The sun will kill us if we are caught out in it, and I will not die because you are losing heart.”\n\n“Nnngh…”\n\n“Do you understand me?”\n\n“I understand.”\n\n“Then follow.”\n\nHe fell in step behind the Drell, huffing under his breath and focusing on just getting his breath back. The sheer power in the other man’s voice, the command, the authority: it was completely different from anything that he had seen so far. He had gotten used to Chas as a friendly face, someone that played with him, that was dominant enough to make it clear who was in charge in bed, but he’d taken their relationship to be more a hired expert and a reasonably competent employer. \n\nThat could not have been further from the truth. In one exchange, the entire framework of their relationship had been rewritten. He was not the boss, not in any way, shape, or form. He was someone that the Drell had taken pity on, who might even be wanted, but was not calling any of the shots. \n\nHe was a tender sole, at best, and a soft-foot, something to be looked down on, at worst. \n\n[i]Keep moving,[/i] he told himself, ignoring the ache in his balls. [i]Just keep moving. He’s not wrong. Just keep moving.[/i]\n\nAs chilling as the wind was while they were sitting on the rocks, he knew for a fact that the sun would leave the whole planet burning again once it came up, and it would do it quickly. The journey had left them with several close calls already, where they had slipped into their cavern hidey-holes just as the sun was starting to break the sky, when the first bits of morning heat were coming through. It had been like standing in one of the engine rooms on a malfunctioning ship, feeling the heat burning through the deck and sizzling the air. That had been a full quarter-hour before the sun was due to come over the horizon, too; if they had been in open sunlight…\n\nHe pushed himself a bit harder. If it was that bad in indirect sunlight, he didn’t want to feel what it would be like directly beneath the sun’s scorching rays. \n\n#\n\nThey barely made it. By the time they rounded the edge of the raised fortress, the sun was right on their tails, and both Chas and Zal were all but yelping as their feet were seared by the sand below. Even as they leaped into the protective shade, neither of them wanted to move, and Zal in particular was whimpering from both sheer exhaustion and the feeling of his feet cooking from the residual heat. \n\n“Nnngh…mmmph…”\n\nHe swore that he could feel every last sweat-drop running along the bottom of his feet from the last-minute heat exposure. They’d felt like they were turning to steam as they ran, the white mist rising from underfoot all but cooking his toes. If it hadn’t been for the last of the ointment that they were both wearing, he was pretty sure that his feet would have been horribly burned from the hot sand. As it stood, they were still toasted, and he whimpered just trying to move. \n\nHe could hear Chas moving around just out of sight, probably talking to other Drell, but he couldn’t summon the energy to pull his head out of the sand. He’d never had to run that fast in his life, not even when he was trying to get away from the pirates that had caused this whole mess. He’d [i]never[/i] had something so relentless as sunlight trying to kill him before, and he didn’t want to ever go through something like that again. \n\n[i]Mmmph…[/i]\n\nAnd now, he was stuck here, in Clan Droek, for who knew how long? Forced to face the very things that Chas had made him confront last night, and tempted by those that would be an expert in the subject, and – \n\nStomp. \n\nA little sand shifted by his face. The Quarian rolled slightly to the side, staring at the top of a foot that was half-green, half-blue. He tilted his head further back, following the leg up, up, up to the Drell that owned it, and from the rather large bulge between the Drell’s legs to his muscular abs, chest, and shoulders, and up to his face. \n\n[i]Great. Another hot guy.[/i]\n\nThis promised to be ‘fun.’\n\n“What’s this one, Chas?” the new Drell asked. \n\n“An off-worlder making his way to port,” Chas said, out of sight. “Didn’t know where he was going.”\n\n“Charity?”\n\n“Heh.”\n\n“Hey, people change.”\n\n“Not people like me.”\n\n“Hard-heel.”\n\n“Always.”\n\n“So, why are you helping him?”\n\n“Help me get him up.”\n\n“Mysterious as always.”\n\nZal grunted as he was heaved to his feet, though he was grateful for the help. He could feel the shakiness in his muscles; everything hurt from having to push himself so hard just to get to the clan home, and he didn’t think that he would have managed the effort of standing up again. He was barely managing to keep his footing as it was, anyway. \n\nAs he looked around, he saw no less than a dozen Drell, each one green, blue, or some mix of the two, and all of them wearing something close to the same shorts that Chas wore. They were almost completely exposed, and all of them had the same sort of ointment smell coming off them. \n\nAnd they looked tired, too. He imagined that, since it was just reaching dawn, this was the equivalent to how most people would have felt reaching sunset. Quite the interesting comparison, he supposed. \n\n“Your name?” one of the older Drell asked. \n\n“Mmmph…Zal’Haar,” he managed to get out. “Water…”\n\n“Later,” the speaker said. “What brings you here?”\n\n“Bad landing.”\n\n“And you will leave?”\n\n“As soon…as I can…”\n\n“After supplies,” Chas said. “We needed to stop for more. And he was reaching his limits.”\n\n“Was…not…”\n\nHe swore Chas rolled his eyes at him at that, but the moment passed. The other Drell looked at them, then specifically at him. It was like they had never seen a Quarian before – \n\nWell, they probably hadn’t, he realized. Particularly not outside of their suits. It was a rarity at the best of times, and he still hadn’t quite gotten used to the feeling of sun, wind, sand, and more on his flesh instead of on his suit. It was going to be weirder for everyone else. \n\n“What is he?” the Drell asked. \n\n“A soft-foot that’s getting better. Maybe a tender sole.”\n\nThe various Drell arched their eyebrows as one. Zal had to admit that it was a rather funny look, but he sagged against Chas rather than making a comment about it. It was getting harder and harder to stand. \n\n“He will pay his stay?” the speaker asked. \n\n“Mmm-hmmm.”\n\n“…He will have to be examined, first.”\n\n“That’s expected.”\n\n“You give permission?”\n\n“I do.”\n\n“Nnngh,” Zal grunted, shaking his head. “Don’t I get a – mmph – say?”\n\n“Heh…Quiet.”\n\nThe Quarian huffed at the little jiggle to his collar. He’d almost forgotten it in the mad-dash across the sands, but he was still collared, still marked – \n\n[i]Still leashed…[/i]\n\nAnd that probably had a very different connotation among other Drell than it did for someone that was just walking through the desert. Not for the first time, Zal wondered just what he had gotten into without thinking about it. All those things that he’d done for Chas in the desert were coming back to haunt him, and he had no idea how some of them would be taken now that he was among a full culture that wanted the same things. \n\nAt the same time…\n\nAt the same time, he was wobbling on his feet, barely staying upright. All the running, the lack of water, and the rising heat of the day was getting to him. Chas held him tight under his arms, calling for water, help, and more, but the Quarian was already sagging in on himself. He’d pushed his limits hard, too hard, and it was time for him to take a nap. \n\n#\n\nZal dreamed peacefully, for once. Not of the pain of the Fleet, or of past play and ‘torture’ from other lovers. For once, he dreamed that he was adrift, in his ship, disconnected from everyone and everything. There was nobody else with him, no other voices around, just he, himself, alone. \n\nIt was something that felt oddly right and wrong at the same time. He’d never been perfectly connected to the Fleet, but he had still been part of them, part of it. He’d also been part of Chas’s little group for a time, and yet, that connection wasn’t strong enough to hold him either, at least not yet. \n\nIt was…right to be alone. It was right to be by himself. One day, he would find someone, or something, to link with, but for the moment, the stars were enough. The stars around him, the people that he would find in the future, the many sights that he would see all across the galaxy: those were the reasons that he became a scout, and why the stars always called to him louder than the homeworld. \n\nHere, floating, free, he was himself. \n\nThere was a sense of something in the waking world, a thing that wanted to drag him out of the dream, but he was so tired that he was able to ignore it. Zal slipped further and further down into the emptiness between stars, forgetting about everything else, and just focused on the peace that the dream offered. He had been without much of that for far too long, and he was happy to get this. Short-lived as it might end up being, he clung to it with all the desperation of a child to their parents. At least here, at least in this moment, he could avoid thinking about all the hard questions waiting in the waking world. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]\n\nSummary: In this 10-page chapter, we have Zal coming to grips with what waits for him at the end of the journey, and what that might mean for him. \n\nTags: M/solo, Implied Sex, Off-Screen Sex, Nudity, Itching, Exposure, Mild CBT, Quarian, Drell, Mass Effect, Miniseries, Hotfoot, Leash and Collar, ",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "
Two Scouts, One Sole Part 4 For Quarian By Draconicon
It was a long journey across the sands. A week or so in space was easily tolerated, if boring if you weren’t prepared for it; that same time in the desert, with the toxic winds driving on to cover and the heat forbidding any sight of the sun while it was over the horizon, was far more exhausting. Zal’Haar had weathered it, and the Quarian told himself that he had grown stronger for it.
He wasn’t sure that he believed himself, but he said it again and again to make it stick.
“Mmmph…ah…”
“Still bothering you, soft-foot?” Chas asked.
“No…”
It was a lie, of course. The itching spray had been applied every day, and it was only in the last twenty-four hours that he had managed to keep from touching it – or trying to – during their walk. The worst had been two days ago when Chas had sprayed it directly between his cheeks, getting it right into his anus, and it had driven him mad as they walked across the shifting sands. It never spread further between his cheeks, thankfully, but the utter prickling itch that had bloomed there had nearly torn his sanity to shreds.
In comparison, the itch applied to his feet and his shaft was hardly annoying at all. At least when it was sprayed on his soles and between his toes, the act of walking through the sand took care of some of the itch, and on his cock…
Well, he could fool himself into thinking that it was at least a little sexy. Kept him hard, at the very least, even if he couldn’t do a thing with it.
“Your cock is loud,” Chas said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean I can hear it slapping your stomach.”
“…”
“Enjoying yourself?”
“…Maybe.”
The Drell chuckled, keeping up his rapid pace across the sands. They had left the mountain behind and were on approach to something else that had been hidden behind it: a dune that rose atop some sort of rock pile, where scavenged metals formed walls that looked down on the sands around it. To Zal, it looked like some sort of fortress rather than one of the rare points of Pilgrimage that he had been hoping to see.
“Friends of yours?” he grunted as he followed behind.
“My clan.”
“I thought you were guiding me to a spaceport.”
“Far off. We need supplies.”
“From them?”
“Yes.”
“And no other reason?”
Chas looked back at him. There was nothing to be read on his face, and Zal sighed. If there was an ulterior motive, he’d find out soon enough, he supposed. From the way that it loomed in the distance, he was pretty sure that they’d reach the risen walls before dawn. If not…well, it was going to get really, really hot for them, because he couldn’t see any shelter between them and the rock.
His cock twitched again, and he glared down at it as it swung up and hit his stomach. He hadn’t paid attention to it since they set up, ignoring the itch as best he could, but that meant ignoring everything else between his legs. And now that he was aware of it again –
“Hssst…”
Please, don’t have heard that, he thought, gritting his teeth as he followed along, barely suppressing the urge to cross his legs against each other. Please, let that be too quiet for you to hear.
If Chas had heard it, the Drell made no sign of it. They just kept walking…and walking…and walking. The sand shifted underfoot, his cock swayed from side to side, and the dripping started again.
Just ignore it. Just ignore all that pent-up need. You’ll be getting off later when you get the chance to lick his feet or…anything else that he has in mind…
Every night had been one more reminder of just what a tender sole’s use was for those that were ‘hard-heeled,’ as Chas had described himself. Just last night, he had been made to take that cock between his lips, sucking on it more than he expected to – there was something about the scent, or the pheromones, or something – and then…
Then he’d offered his mouth to…the other man’s urine.
Just the thought of how far he’d fallen as a ‘tender sole’ was enough to keep him hard and blushing at the same time. He’d never had that happen before, not on the Citadel, not with the few other lovers that he’d taken that were safe. It was completely new to him, and the sheer embarrassment and ease of it all – and that was the hardest thing to understand, why it was so easy – just left him burning with both humiliation and a greater lust than he had ever had in his life. It continued to throb and beg for attention with every step, and it took most of his willpower to shut it down and ignore it.
Well, mostly ignore it. It continued to pulse, throbbing and –
Mmmph.
Itching. It was like scratchy feathers right under his tip, rubbing against the slightly broad head of his shaft and keeping it from getting any rest. Stimulating, but irritating, almost like bits of sand that had been caught in the flesh. It got worse if he dripped too much pre-cum, and yet, the irritation and itching was just causing him to drip more. It was a self-perpetuating cycle, and he couldn’t stop himself from enjoying it on some level.
He just wished that his cock would stop giving away how much he liked it. Zal huffed, forcing himself to pick up the pace, thinking of anything but his cock again. The sand under his feet, the night wind, the feeling of being utterly naked in public –
Nope, not that one, but it was too late now. If Chas was keeping him like this now, what would it be like when they got to Clan Droek and he was exposed to even more Drell? What would they say? For that matter, what would they do to the new ‘tender sole’ among their numbers? It was one thing to be treated like this by his guide, but he wasn’t sure if he could take having that many tribal Drell pushing themselves on him in the same fashion.
What am I getting myself into?
No answer, more or less as expected.
Zal forced himself to keep walking, but the more that he started thinking about the fortress that lay ahead, the more that his libido started kicking in. So many what-ifs were dancing in his head.
Were they all as sexy as Chas?
Were they all going to bully him with their feet?
How many ways was he going to be forced to serve them?
Would he be at the very bottom of their hierarchy, or would his ‘tender sole’ talents put him a bit further up the ladder, giving him at least a little bit of pride of place?
There were so many possibilities whistling around in his brain, and with all of them being at least a little bit sexy, it was impossible not to feel at least a little bit more aroused. He shivered, biting his lips as he forced himself to keep pace with his guide for as long as he could, but eventually –
“I need a break,” Zal muttered.
“What was that?”
“Need…a break…please.”
“Fine.”
Chas turned them off their path. The Quarian had long-since given up understanding how the other man could just pick out where the solid parts of the sand were for rests and just trusted him at this point. It had to be some sort of long-learned understanding of how Rakhana worked, and he wasn’t going to just pick it up. Particularly without the various scanners in his suit that he was so used to using.
They sat down, Chas on the slightly higher rock, and him on the lower one. He stretched out his legs, his thighs spread, and he huffed as he put his hands under them to resist reaching down and groping himself.
“Tired, or horny?” Chas asked.
“Both,” he muttered under his breath. “Still…better than I have been doing. Right?”
“Better than you have been,” the Drell said, nodding. “Not quite as good as some soft-foots, better than some.”
“Can’t you be more specific than that? How much better than them? Am I in the bottom half or the top? How would I compare to the soft-foots in your little clan, hmmm?”
Chas just smiled.
“You’re infuriating, you know that?”
“It has been said.”
Shaking his head, Zal wrapped his arms around his middle. Now that they weren’t moving, he was more aware of the wind and the chill that filled the desert at night. When they were walking around, the sheer amount of effort that it took to cross the sand kept him more than warm enough, and the bits of heat that oozed from pockets in the sand during the night helped that to no small extent. Staying still, however, and in a place where the wind blew and the sand was cool, brought all that cold home.
But at least it kept him from being as itchy. He would take that right now. He would take that and be very, very thankful.
“You think you’ll move on?” Chas asked.
“…You keep asking me about that,” Zal said, looking the blue Drell in the eye. “Why do you keep asking? I’m starting to think that you don’t want me to go or something.”
“There are…possibilities here. And you say you are not like other Quarians.”
“Heh…not even close, no.”
“Then why go back?”
“Responsibilities.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“What?”
“Doesn’t sound right. Rings hollow.”
Zal shook his head, fighting off the brief twinge between his legs as the itch surged for a moment, his cock bouncing up and oozing down the underside of his shaft. He curled his toes tightly, gouging out brief-lived valleys in the sand before he was able to calm himself once more.
“Well, what do you think it is, then?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yeah. If you’re so sure, tell me.”
“I think you’re scared of how much you want it.”
Zal blinked. Chas shrugged.
“You jumped on this as soon as I talked about it. You never said no. You let me do whatever I wanted, as long as it involved feet. You stared at me, hard as a rock, as soon as I told you that my people involve our soles in everything. It was all you could think about. There was nothing more in your mind.
“I make the invitation because you want it. You clearly want it.”
“What makes you think I’d abandon my people?”
“Because you haven’t said no.”
“I…”
It was true. He’d never outright said ‘no.’ The most he’d even said as an answer was a teasing maybe, but he’d never said no. He’d just asked why the Drell kept asking him about it. At no point had he actually flat-out denied that he wanted something like this.
And the more that he thought about it, the more he realized how terrifyingly tempting the whole live as a tender sole actually was. If he was valued there – if he was as good as the others, or better – then they would treat him the way that Chas did. They would put him in his place, they would make use of his feet, and he’d live a life that was more or less completely focused on kink and pleasure.
His.
Theirs.
Everyone’s.
And with only playful shame…
A shiver ran down his spine. If he really had something like that offered to him, if he knew that it would work out, long-term, it would be very hard to get back to the Fleet. They were just…
Cruel? Judgmental?
Not to most of the Quarians in it, but for those that stepped outside of the social norms and wanted other things, yes. The Fleet had to be unified, according to the Admiralty. With the Fleet being as spread out and sprawling as it was, there was no way for them to do anything but speak with a unanimous voice. Dissenters – or defects, as some had called him for his proclivities behind his back – were not welcome, because they weakened the voice of the people as a whole.
And if they didn’t want him…
Zal shook his head. That way lay dangerous thoughts, thoughts that would leave him at odds with the only people that he knew. The Fleet was flawed, but without them –
“You are tempted,” Chas said. “What really holds you back?”
“…What if it isn’t as good as it sounds?”
“Nothing is,” the blue-skinned Drell said, shaking his head. “And those that say it is are lying.”
“Then why –”
“I have heard a phrase from others. ‘Perfect is the enemy of good’?”
“It’s more ‘Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good,’ but yes.”
“If it is better than what you have, why not try it?”
“Because I might change my mind. Because it might not last. Because there might be other things that I haven’t thought of in a group that don’t work when I like doing this with you.”
“Because of fear.”
“…Yes, I guess.”
“Are your people often afraid?”
“Constantly,” Zal said, chuckling under his breath as he finally pulled his legs together, his knees against his chest. “We live in suits that keep us alive on all the other worlds. If we take them off, we have to quarantine and go through extreme medical treatment just to make sure that we don’t have deadly infections. Everyone sees us as thieves, as useful mechanics that need to be searched every time we go anywhere, and they’re always happy to see the back of us once we’ve fulfilled our part of the deal.”
“And yet, you still explore.”
“Because I have to.”
“What do you hope to find?”
“…A way home, I guess.”
“And home is…?”
Every Quarian had the same answer for that, and until that moment, Zal thought that he shared at least that with the rest of the Fleet. He opened his mouth, meaning to speak of his homeworld…
But when he tried, the words wouldn’t come.
As much as he wanted to talk about the Geth and how the homeworld had been taken from them, as much as he wanted to explain the way that his people had been sent running, fleeing for their lives as they lost everything, to tell the tale of Quarians…it just wouldn’t come. The words were there, but the resonance that had driven all Quarians since they were old enough to understand the story was gone.
What was on their homeworld? What was waiting there? They were so maladjusted to anything outside of their suits that it would be no different there than in space. All that would change would be that the Quarians favored by the Admiralty would actually have land, would have the space to spread out and sprawl and live their lives outside the ships. Everyone else would be treated exactly the same.
He’d still be the outsider.
He’d still be the one that they judged.
He’d still have to find his own path, just like he had always done since becoming a scout for the Fleet.
It hit him all at once, and he stared at his guide with his mouth hanging wide open. Chas just looked back at him this time. No smile, no teasing remarks, just a simple stare, waiting for his answer.
“…I guess…I don’t know anymore,” Zal muttered.
“Then you have thinking to do.”
“I do.”
“Come.”
“I…can I have a minute?”
Chas stood up slowly. The Drell looked down at him, head cocked to the side. Zal looked back up.
“What? I said, can I have a minute?”
“Will you accept the answer ‘no’?”
“Right now? I’m being polite.”
“Then I will be direct.”
Chas moved quickly, quicker than Zal knew that the broad-shouldered man actually could. His hands grabbed the Quarian’s knees and pushed them apart, and his foot came up and onto the rock and –
“NNGH!”
Zal gasped for breath as the Drell’s heel rested right on his sac, grinding back and forth slowly. It wasn’t enough to be the pure pain that would have come if someone had actually kicked him down there, but it was more than enough discomfort to pin him in place and keep him from fighting back. The Drell leaned in, putting just a little more weight on the sac, his toes pushing Zal’s cock up and against his belly.
“I have been gentle, but you are not the guide. You are not suited for the desert. How long does it take to reach our destination?”
“…”
“How long?”
“I guessed…we’d reach it by – nngh…dawn…”
“If we take no further breaks, we will reach the shaded gate just as the sun rises. If we wait any longer, we will have to run. Can you run, as you are?”
“…No.”
“Is your need for a break so strong that you want to risk both our lives?”
“…No.”
“Then what are you right now?”
“Mmmph…”
Chas leaned further forward, and Zal hissed through clenched teeth as the hard, firm heel of the other man ground into his balls. They ached, sending very specific pain right up his spine, but the toes curling tight around his shaft kept him from being able to go soft. He wanted to, almost; it would have taken the humiliation out of the moment from still being hard from this sort of –
“NNNGH!”
Just that tiny bit more, right on the threshold of actually going into the realm of pain. He gasped, huffing, his eyes closed tight as he felt Chas’s breath against his cheek .
“What are you?”
“Mmmph…a…a soft-foot.”
“And?”
“Selfish.”
“Yes. You are.”
The pressure eased off, and he was able to breathe without shaking as much as he had been. He sucked down air, closing his eyes tight as Chas pulled him upright by the collar.
“Whatever your fears are, whatever leaves your knees shaking, figure it out as we walk. The sun will kill us if we are caught out in it, and I will not die because you are losing heart.”
“Nnngh…”
“Do you understand me?”
“I understand.”
“Then follow.”
He fell in step behind the Drell, huffing under his breath and focusing on just getting his breath back. The sheer power in the other man’s voice, the command, the authority: it was completely different from anything that he had seen so far. He had gotten used to Chas as a friendly face, someone that played with him, that was dominant enough to make it clear who was in charge in bed, but he’d taken their relationship to be more a hired expert and a reasonably competent employer.
That could not have been further from the truth. In one exchange, the entire framework of their relationship had been rewritten. He was not the boss, not in any way, shape, or form. He was someone that the Drell had taken pity on, who might even be wanted, but was not calling any of the shots.
He was a tender sole, at best, and a soft-foot, something to be looked down on, at worst.
Keep moving, he told himself, ignoring the ache in his balls. Just keep moving. He’s not wrong. Just keep moving.
As chilling as the wind was while they were sitting on the rocks, he knew for a fact that the sun would leave the whole planet burning again once it came up, and it would do it quickly. The journey had left them with several close calls already, where they had slipped into their cavern hidey-holes just as the sun was starting to break the sky, when the first bits of morning heat were coming through. It had been like standing in one of the engine rooms on a malfunctioning ship, feeling the heat burning through the deck and sizzling the air. That had been a full quarter-hour before the sun was due to come over the horizon, too; if they had been in open sunlight…
He pushed himself a bit harder. If it was that bad in indirect sunlight, he didn’t want to feel what it would be like directly beneath the sun’s scorching rays.
#
They barely made it. By the time they rounded the edge of the raised fortress, the sun was right on their tails, and both Chas and Zal were all but yelping as their feet were seared by the sand below. Even as they leaped into the protective shade, neither of them wanted to move, and Zal in particular was whimpering from both sheer exhaustion and the feeling of his feet cooking from the residual heat.
“Nnngh…mmmph…”
He swore that he could feel every last sweat-drop running along the bottom of his feet from the last-minute heat exposure. They’d felt like they were turning to steam as they ran, the white mist rising from underfoot all but cooking his toes. If it hadn’t been for the last of the ointment that they were both wearing, he was pretty sure that his feet would have been horribly burned from the hot sand. As it stood, they were still toasted, and he whimpered just trying to move.
He could hear Chas moving around just out of sight, probably talking to other Drell, but he couldn’t summon the energy to pull his head out of the sand. He’d never had to run that fast in his life, not even when he was trying to get away from the pirates that had caused this whole mess. He’d never had something so relentless as sunlight trying to kill him before, and he didn’t want to ever go through something like that again.
Mmmph…
And now, he was stuck here, in Clan Droek, for who knew how long? Forced to face the very things that Chas had made him confront last night, and tempted by those that would be an expert in the subject, and –
Stomp.
A little sand shifted by his face. The Quarian rolled slightly to the side, staring at the top of a foot that was half-green, half-blue. He tilted his head further back, following the leg up, up, up to the Drell that owned it, and from the rather large bulge between the Drell’s legs to his muscular abs, chest, and shoulders, and up to his face.
Great. Another hot guy.
This promised to be ‘fun.’
“What’s this one, Chas?” the new Drell asked.
“An off-worlder making his way to port,” Chas said, out of sight. “Didn’t know where he was going.”
“Charity?”
“Heh.”
“Hey, people change.”
“Not people like me.”
“Hard-heel.”
“Always.”
“So, why are you helping him?”
“Help me get him up.”
“Mysterious as always.”
Zal grunted as he was heaved to his feet, though he was grateful for the help. He could feel the shakiness in his muscles; everything hurt from having to push himself so hard just to get to the clan home, and he didn’t think that he would have managed the effort of standing up again. He was barely managing to keep his footing as it was, anyway.
As he looked around, he saw no less than a dozen Drell, each one green, blue, or some mix of the two, and all of them wearing something close to the same shorts that Chas wore. They were almost completely exposed, and all of them had the same sort of ointment smell coming off them.
And they looked tired, too. He imagined that, since it was just reaching dawn, this was the equivalent to how most people would have felt reaching sunset. Quite the interesting comparison, he supposed.
“Your name?” one of the older Drell asked.
“Mmmph…Zal’Haar,” he managed to get out. “Water…”
“Later,” the speaker said. “What brings you here?”
“Bad landing.”
“And you will leave?”
“As soon…as I can…”
“After supplies,” Chas said. “We needed to stop for more. And he was reaching his limits.”
“Was…not…”
He swore Chas rolled his eyes at him at that, but the moment passed. The other Drell looked at them, then specifically at him. It was like they had never seen a Quarian before –
Well, they probably hadn’t, he realized. Particularly not outside of their suits. It was a rarity at the best of times, and he still hadn’t quite gotten used to the feeling of sun, wind, sand, and more on his flesh instead of on his suit. It was going to be weirder for everyone else.
“What is he?” the Drell asked.
“A soft-foot that’s getting better. Maybe a tender sole.”
The various Drell arched their eyebrows as one. Zal had to admit that it was a rather funny look, but he sagged against Chas rather than making a comment about it. It was getting harder and harder to stand.
“He will pay his stay?” the speaker asked.
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“…He will have to be examined, first.”
“That’s expected.”
“You give permission?”
“I do.”
“Nnngh,” Zal grunted, shaking his head. “Don’t I get a – mmph – say?”
“Heh…Quiet.”
The Quarian huffed at the little jiggle to his collar. He’d almost forgotten it in the mad-dash across the sands, but he was still collared, still marked –
Still leashed…
And that probably had a very different connotation among other Drell than it did for someone that was just walking through the desert. Not for the first time, Zal wondered just what he had gotten into without thinking about it. All those things that he’d done for Chas in the desert were coming back to haunt him, and he had no idea how some of them would be taken now that he was among a full culture that wanted the same things.
At the same time…
At the same time, he was wobbling on his feet, barely staying upright. All the running, the lack of water, and the rising heat of the day was getting to him. Chas held him tight under his arms, calling for water, help, and more, but the Quarian was already sagging in on himself. He’d pushed his limits hard, too hard, and it was time for him to take a nap.
#
Zal dreamed peacefully, for once. Not of the pain of the Fleet, or of past play and ‘torture’ from other lovers. For once, he dreamed that he was adrift, in his ship, disconnected from everyone and everything. There was nobody else with him, no other voices around, just he, himself, alone.
It was something that felt oddly right and wrong at the same time. He’d never been perfectly connected to the Fleet, but he had still been part of them, part of it. He’d also been part of Chas’s little group for a time, and yet, that connection wasn’t strong enough to hold him either, at least not yet.
It was…right to be alone. It was right to be by himself. One day, he would find someone, or something, to link with, but for the moment, the stars were enough. The stars around him, the people that he would find in the future, the many sights that he would see all across the galaxy: those were the reasons that he became a scout, and why the stars always called to him louder than the homeworld.
Here, floating, free, he was himself.
There was a sense of something in the waking world, a thing that wanted to drag him out of the dream, but he was so tired that he was able to ignore it. Zal slipped further and further down into the emptiness between stars, forgetting about everything else, and just focused on the peace that the dream offered. He had been without much of that for far too long, and he was happy to get this. Short-lived as it might end up being, he clung to it with all the desperation of a child to their parents. At least here, at least in this moment, he could avoid thinking about all the hard questions waiting in the waking world.
The End
Summary: In this 10-page chapter, we have Zal coming to grips with what waits for him at the end of the journey, and what that might mean for him.