Fic: Slash: Woven Memories - Coming of Age
Title: Woven Memories - Coming of Age
Author: kitty_trio
Fandom: Karl Urban, Chronicles of Riddick
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Vaako/OMC, others
Warnings: mention of Slash, Het
Feedback: Yes please
Disclaimer: It’s Fiction! Never happened. All lies from a troubled mind. Do not own Vaako or any characters from the COR universe. Other characters are a figment of a vivid imagination, any similarity to persons real or fictitious is merely incidental. No money made from this fantasy.
A/N: Coming of Age inspired from a lovely manip created by lady__vaako
Irgun poked his head around the barracks doorway. The young men were sprawled in various states of undress. Armor and weaponry lay scattered throughout the room. Suppressing a devious grin, he called out in a perfect mimicry of the training sergeant, “Inspection!”
He howled at the scrambling and cursing issuing from inside. “At Ease,” he tried, unable hide the laughter. A duck avoids a boot flying past his head. “None of that,” he admonished. “Look at you lay-abouts, yeh’d think none of you had participated in an invasion before.”
A well-aimed dagger skims past Irgun’s cheek, thrumming as it is imbedded in the corridor wall. “That was our first invasion,” The youngest member of the unit growls, stalking out to retrieve his blade.
“Ah, then you boys must finish the most important task. Come, it is time.” Irgun ushers the five toward the Necropolis.
Thuskine protests, “We’ve been on-planet five days, and just now recalled to Basilica. What more needs doing?” the shortest drags his feet.
Ever mindful of protocol, Ranin reminds the squad that none of them are armored and barely clothed. He eyes his own bootless feet with a sigh.
Irgun slips his arms about the two laggards. “Come, no worries boys.” He directs the leading three to an access panel. “This way, hurry.” The squad climbs through and ascends to the catwalks above the mezzanine. They will follow their point man on faith, for now.
Irgun leads them to a vantage point near the indoctrination chambers. “Now, this is the most important task.” Irgun lavishly displays the sights below with a wave of his arms. “New converts boys! Look at those lovely lasses and lads!” He aims a wink at their gaping youngest crew member. He’s in full carnival-barker mode, as he continues, “Freshly purified, a slight bloom still in their cheeks. Wouldn’t one be toasty warming your bed tonight? These lovelies are ripe for the pickings, in need of personal guidance.”
As Irgun becomes cruder, Shimshinto and Bai storm off in disgust. They are defenders of the Faith, but foremost they are soldiers. They do not dally in matters of the flesh, and rarely involve themselves in the antics of the squad’s jokester.
Ranin wants to follow the squad leaders, but the images forming in his mind keeps him pinned to the railing. Thuskine leans far out, watching the progress of a red-headed beauty. Irgun presses his arousal against his young bunkmate, to point out various converts. He loves to tease the often too serious Vaako. Hoping for a special ‘conversion’ of his undoubtedly innocent friend.
Vaako would blush brighter than those below, if he could. He shoves his oldest friend away with a shake of his head. Always assuming Irgun’s actions are just meant to tease.
Lost in his tale, Irgun didn’t realize they have caught the attention of someone on the mezzanine. His voice rose as he became more impassioned. A booming voice calls out from below, “Gentlemen, I pray you are not involved in activities unbecoming of my troops?”
The First Commander! Thuskine startles over balancing to teeter on the rail. Irgun and Ranin freeze at hearing Pe’thay, while Vaako recovers first. He leaps for the short man pulling him back. Unable to stop his momentum, he sails off the walkway. One cat-like flip later, he lands on one knee at Pe’thay’s feet.
An exasperated sigh issues from the First Commander, as Vaako hangs his head in shame for once again disappointing his mentor. Pe’thay grabs the short braids to yank the lad to his feet. He looks up to the three shocked faces peering down, pining Irgun with a piercing green gaze. “You! I should have known. Back to your barracks,” he barks, “your training officer will be informed of your disgraceful actions.” As the young soldiers hurry to comply he adds, “And put some clothes on! Out of uniform in the sacred Necropolis…” his voice trails off.
Vaako turns to follow his men, but a hand in his braids again pulls him up short. “Vaako, I had such high hopes.” He pauses, tongue wetting dry lips. The lad is in nothing but pants riding low on slim hips. “Report to my quarters on the double. You, I will deal with now.”
Pe’thay paced the mezzanine. He had fostered the lad after Marau crossed to the Threshold ten years before. A couple years of peace were gained by redirecting the lad’s enthusiasm with studies of great Necromonger military leaders. Many Pe’thay had served under or with. Those of his homeworld did not age at the same pace as others in this ‘verse. Only with the conversion of another young boy did Pe’thay regret the trait. Irgun, he recalls with a shudder the mischief the two lads stirred.
As he slowly heads to his quarters, he ponders this latest incident. He has no intention to report the young squad. ‘twas similar to what he and his own men had done in days long past. Irgun had the makings of a fine soldier, if only he would take things serious once in a while. And Vaako. Pe’thay brushed the blond fringe off his brow. Vaako could go far in the Necromonger ranks. At 18, he has the strength and determination of seasoned warriors, the intelligence to be a great leader of men. And Covu protect them, the grace of a jungle cat. The gravity-defying moves of the lad, has him licking out at his upper lip.
If he hadn’t sent Vaako to live in the barracks three years back, he might have diverted some of Irgun’s influence. That one would keep both lads in the middle ranks unless something changed soon. Pe’thay stopped a corridor away from his quarters. No, he had valid reasons for banishing the lad from his private chambers. As the boy developed into a fine young man, Pe’thay had begun to desire the youth as more than a protégé. He would not allow his status as mentor to influence Vaako.
Vaako paced the outer room of the First Commander’s quarters. He had debated stopping at the barracks for his uniform, but assumed his mentor would be along shortly. His anxiety increased as the minutes passed. He’d fucked up again: Caught lusting after the new converts, out of uniform in the Necropolis. Still out of uniform. No matter how hard he tried, he could no longer please his mentor.
Pe’thay’s long suffering sigh was becoming as familiar as the breath rasping in and out of his own chest. Nothing worked. Longer sessions with the various weapons masters until his muscles quivered in fatigue. Reading and memorizing accounts of every Necromonger commander all the way back to the days of Covu, until his brain felt like mush. Remembering Pe’thay’s private collection of military accounts of absorbed worlds, Vaako enters his mentor’s inner chamber. He runs a slim finger along the volumes. So many hours they had spent debating and comparing strategies. All forbidden to him now.
Vaako could not fathom what had finally caused his banishment from these rooms. That last year Pe’thay had become distant. The intense green eyes once twinkled in amusement were often hooded with some unexplained emotion. Disgust or disappointment Vaako presumed. Even the private training sessions ceased. Pe’thay had been teaching him Carthodox hand-to-hand fighting techniques, which worked well with Vaako’s inherent grace. Lost in his thoughts, he does not hear Pe’thay’s entrance.
Huffing out a calming breath, Pe’thay enters. Blood rushes to his groin at the vision before him. The young warrior’s body glistens in the low light. Muscles well defined, but still carry the lankiness of youth. The smooth heart shaped face, the beloved green eyes momentarily hidden. The dark shoulder length locks pulled back in braids sporting bits collected here and there. The shaved sides are new, accenting the perfectly shaped ears. Pe’thay fingers the short hair above his right ear with a small smile of pride. The lad did have a flare in honoring what was important to him. His eyes travel the path of dark down leading from navel into pants so far below. He bites his tongue to hold in a groan.
Vaako spins at a sound from the doorway. Neither man speaks as they take the measure of the other. Pe’thay hasn’t aged a day as long as Vaako has known him. A few scars added over the years the only sign of time’s passage. Vaako himself had added the small one under his mentor’s left brow. He had been a terror with his wooden sword and tiny suit of armor. The sandy blond hair, mussed as usual from fingers that often raked through it. A bare patch above one ear displayed the tattoo of Carthodox manhood rites. The intense green eyes were such a different shade from his. Lean muscular frame that masked the strength of the master swordsman.
Vaako moved first to kneel at his beloved mentor’s feet. “My Lord, forgive me. I am a disgrace to the Faith.”
“Nay lad,” Pe’thay lifts him to his feet with a hand under his chin. “You are young and still have much to learn.”
“Then teach me! Tell me what to do to regain your respect!”
“Regain?” Pe’thay repeats. “You’ve never lost my respect.” He steps away from the heat of the young man. “Surely by now you know why I must stay away from you. Hasn’t that randy Irgun initiated you in matters of the flesh?”
“Initiated? Irgun? He’s my oldest friend; he teases me with his conquests,” Vaako answers frowning. “That’s what today was about. I…I meant no disrespect to the Principle Purifier’s new converts.” As Pe’thay continued to stare at his bare chest, he adds, “And lack of uniforms in the Necropolis.” He hangs his head again. Though technically the catwalks only accessed the upper reaches of the past and present Lord Marshall statues ringing the sacred complex.
“Why would he want me? Irgun has his pick of any number of bed partners.” Vaako paces before the bed, unable to grasp what Irgun’s exploits have to do with the First Commander and these rooms. Raising deep green eyes, wide with a dawning comprehension, Vaako once more knelt before Pe’thay. “My Lord, please… Irgun did explain about a warrior’s needs. I…I didn’t realize you…that you…but you never…” A toss of braids to shake loose his scattered thoughts, Vaako recalls Irgun’s words.
During the long absences of forward operations missions, younger soldiers were used to relieve the needs of the veterans. In the time spent living within these rooms Pe’thay never brought a companion to warm his bed. Nor the few exploratory runs that Vaako had accompanied his mentor on. “I did not realize you had those needs. My Lord, I would serve you.” He reached to the man standing silent and still above him.
Pe’thay jerked as if scalded at the touch to his thigh. Gods, the lad would send him to the Threshold before his time, so innocent and earnest. His desire wars with his control as he licks his lip. “Nay Lad, rise, ‘tis not your body I would have,” he bites out. He turns away before his desire wins and he takes what is willingly offered. He wanted the lad as his mate, not a meaningless companion. Perhaps he had been wrong to keep his protégé from knowing about his own sexual exploits. Vaako had to come to him by his own choice as an equal partner. Not by any misguided need to please his mentor. “Go, we are done here. Return to your squad.” Pe’thay clutched the door jam to garner some control.
Not good enough. Found wanting again, Vaako rose slowly to his feet. Dejectedly he makes his way from the room. At the doorway he mirrors Pe’thay’s lip lick as he apologized. “Forgive me, my Lord. I will strive to become worthy of the Faith, though I am not worthy of you.”
The pink tongue slipping between the perfect bow of Vaako’s lips is too much. Pe’thay’s hand slides beneath the soft braids to pull the lad into a brutal kiss. Gasping for a breath, he shoves the startled youth away. As he licks Vaako’s taste from his lips, he growls, “Leave! Do not return until you understand!” Pe’thay thrusts him to the outer room, slamming the bedroom door behind him.
Confused and aroused, Vaako silently climbs to his bunk. Irgun has one, no two converts in the bunk below. Peering cautiously over the edge, he stifles a groan. Irgun is pounding into the red-head from earlier, as that one is fucking one of Irgun’s favorite females.
Vaako strips off his pants and strokes his needy arousal in time to the activity below. It’s not long before the crew below is crying out in completion, and Vaako follows soon after, biting into a fist to maintain his silence. Irgun and the blond help the new convert into his tattered robes, and then he escorts the pair to the outer room with a slap to the red-head’s tender bottom. “Enjoy him well my sweet, before Thuskine gets his meaty cock up this delicious ass and steals him from our little harem.”
Catching a movement in the upper bunk, Irgun calls out “Vaako! Why didn’t you join us?” He flops onto his bed with an expansive sigh. Now that’s an ass he’d love to plunder. “Tennie has always wanted to ride you. Or did the First Commander ream you well,” he laughs.
“Enough of your games Irgun. The First Commander would not want me in that way.”
“Vaako! Are you dense? Have you not seen how he watches you?”
“Nay Irgun, I am nothing but a disappointment to him. I…I offered to serve him, but he threw me out of his chambers,” Vaako finishes in a small voice. He would not mention the mind-blowing kiss.
“You…? He did? Tell me everything. I know he’s wanted you for years.”
“No! Stop this foolishness. He told me his did not want my body.”
“Not want…? That’s it! Oh Vaako my boy!” Irgun chortles. “No more of those dusty military books for you boy. They’ve addled your brain. Of course, he wants you as his Mate!” He lays back already devising schemes.
Stunned Vaako stares at the ceiling. Pe’thay’s mate? Me?
TBC
Author: kitty_trio
Fandom: Karl Urban, Chronicles of Riddick
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Vaako/OMC, others
Warnings: mention of Slash, Het
Feedback: Yes please
Disclaimer: It’s Fiction! Never happened. All lies from a troubled mind. Do not own Vaako or any characters from the COR universe. Other characters are a figment of a vivid imagination, any similarity to persons real or fictitious is merely incidental. No money made from this fantasy.
A/N: Coming of Age inspired from a lovely manip created by lady__vaako
Irgun poked his head around the barracks doorway. The young men were sprawled in various states of undress. Armor and weaponry lay scattered throughout the room. Suppressing a devious grin, he called out in a perfect mimicry of the training sergeant, “Inspection!”
He howled at the scrambling and cursing issuing from inside. “At Ease,” he tried, unable hide the laughter. A duck avoids a boot flying past his head. “None of that,” he admonished. “Look at you lay-abouts, yeh’d think none of you had participated in an invasion before.”
A well-aimed dagger skims past Irgun’s cheek, thrumming as it is imbedded in the corridor wall. “That was our first invasion,” The youngest member of the unit growls, stalking out to retrieve his blade.
“Ah, then you boys must finish the most important task. Come, it is time.” Irgun ushers the five toward the Necropolis.
Thuskine protests, “We’ve been on-planet five days, and just now recalled to Basilica. What more needs doing?” the shortest drags his feet.
Ever mindful of protocol, Ranin reminds the squad that none of them are armored and barely clothed. He eyes his own bootless feet with a sigh.
Irgun slips his arms about the two laggards. “Come, no worries boys.” He directs the leading three to an access panel. “This way, hurry.” The squad climbs through and ascends to the catwalks above the mezzanine. They will follow their point man on faith, for now.
Irgun leads them to a vantage point near the indoctrination chambers. “Now, this is the most important task.” Irgun lavishly displays the sights below with a wave of his arms. “New converts boys! Look at those lovely lasses and lads!” He aims a wink at their gaping youngest crew member. He’s in full carnival-barker mode, as he continues, “Freshly purified, a slight bloom still in their cheeks. Wouldn’t one be toasty warming your bed tonight? These lovelies are ripe for the pickings, in need of personal guidance.”
As Irgun becomes cruder, Shimshinto and Bai storm off in disgust. They are defenders of the Faith, but foremost they are soldiers. They do not dally in matters of the flesh, and rarely involve themselves in the antics of the squad’s jokester.
Ranin wants to follow the squad leaders, but the images forming in his mind keeps him pinned to the railing. Thuskine leans far out, watching the progress of a red-headed beauty. Irgun presses his arousal against his young bunkmate, to point out various converts. He loves to tease the often too serious Vaako. Hoping for a special ‘conversion’ of his undoubtedly innocent friend.
Vaako would blush brighter than those below, if he could. He shoves his oldest friend away with a shake of his head. Always assuming Irgun’s actions are just meant to tease.
Lost in his tale, Irgun didn’t realize they have caught the attention of someone on the mezzanine. His voice rose as he became more impassioned. A booming voice calls out from below, “Gentlemen, I pray you are not involved in activities unbecoming of my troops?”
The First Commander! Thuskine startles over balancing to teeter on the rail. Irgun and Ranin freeze at hearing Pe’thay, while Vaako recovers first. He leaps for the short man pulling him back. Unable to stop his momentum, he sails off the walkway. One cat-like flip later, he lands on one knee at Pe’thay’s feet.
An exasperated sigh issues from the First Commander, as Vaako hangs his head in shame for once again disappointing his mentor. Pe’thay grabs the short braids to yank the lad to his feet. He looks up to the three shocked faces peering down, pining Irgun with a piercing green gaze. “You! I should have known. Back to your barracks,” he barks, “your training officer will be informed of your disgraceful actions.” As the young soldiers hurry to comply he adds, “And put some clothes on! Out of uniform in the sacred Necropolis…” his voice trails off.
Vaako turns to follow his men, but a hand in his braids again pulls him up short. “Vaako, I had such high hopes.” He pauses, tongue wetting dry lips. The lad is in nothing but pants riding low on slim hips. “Report to my quarters on the double. You, I will deal with now.”
Pe’thay paced the mezzanine. He had fostered the lad after Marau crossed to the Threshold ten years before. A couple years of peace were gained by redirecting the lad’s enthusiasm with studies of great Necromonger military leaders. Many Pe’thay had served under or with. Those of his homeworld did not age at the same pace as others in this ‘verse. Only with the conversion of another young boy did Pe’thay regret the trait. Irgun, he recalls with a shudder the mischief the two lads stirred.
As he slowly heads to his quarters, he ponders this latest incident. He has no intention to report the young squad. ‘twas similar to what he and his own men had done in days long past. Irgun had the makings of a fine soldier, if only he would take things serious once in a while. And Vaako. Pe’thay brushed the blond fringe off his brow. Vaako could go far in the Necromonger ranks. At 18, he has the strength and determination of seasoned warriors, the intelligence to be a great leader of men. And Covu protect them, the grace of a jungle cat. The gravity-defying moves of the lad, has him licking out at his upper lip.
If he hadn’t sent Vaako to live in the barracks three years back, he might have diverted some of Irgun’s influence. That one would keep both lads in the middle ranks unless something changed soon. Pe’thay stopped a corridor away from his quarters. No, he had valid reasons for banishing the lad from his private chambers. As the boy developed into a fine young man, Pe’thay had begun to desire the youth as more than a protégé. He would not allow his status as mentor to influence Vaako.
Vaako paced the outer room of the First Commander’s quarters. He had debated stopping at the barracks for his uniform, but assumed his mentor would be along shortly. His anxiety increased as the minutes passed. He’d fucked up again: Caught lusting after the new converts, out of uniform in the Necropolis. Still out of uniform. No matter how hard he tried, he could no longer please his mentor.
Pe’thay’s long suffering sigh was becoming as familiar as the breath rasping in and out of his own chest. Nothing worked. Longer sessions with the various weapons masters until his muscles quivered in fatigue. Reading and memorizing accounts of every Necromonger commander all the way back to the days of Covu, until his brain felt like mush. Remembering Pe’thay’s private collection of military accounts of absorbed worlds, Vaako enters his mentor’s inner chamber. He runs a slim finger along the volumes. So many hours they had spent debating and comparing strategies. All forbidden to him now.
Vaako could not fathom what had finally caused his banishment from these rooms. That last year Pe’thay had become distant. The intense green eyes once twinkled in amusement were often hooded with some unexplained emotion. Disgust or disappointment Vaako presumed. Even the private training sessions ceased. Pe’thay had been teaching him Carthodox hand-to-hand fighting techniques, which worked well with Vaako’s inherent grace. Lost in his thoughts, he does not hear Pe’thay’s entrance.
Huffing out a calming breath, Pe’thay enters. Blood rushes to his groin at the vision before him. The young warrior’s body glistens in the low light. Muscles well defined, but still carry the lankiness of youth. The smooth heart shaped face, the beloved green eyes momentarily hidden. The dark shoulder length locks pulled back in braids sporting bits collected here and there. The shaved sides are new, accenting the perfectly shaped ears. Pe’thay fingers the short hair above his right ear with a small smile of pride. The lad did have a flare in honoring what was important to him. His eyes travel the path of dark down leading from navel into pants so far below. He bites his tongue to hold in a groan.
Vaako spins at a sound from the doorway. Neither man speaks as they take the measure of the other. Pe’thay hasn’t aged a day as long as Vaako has known him. A few scars added over the years the only sign of time’s passage. Vaako himself had added the small one under his mentor’s left brow. He had been a terror with his wooden sword and tiny suit of armor. The sandy blond hair, mussed as usual from fingers that often raked through it. A bare patch above one ear displayed the tattoo of Carthodox manhood rites. The intense green eyes were such a different shade from his. Lean muscular frame that masked the strength of the master swordsman.
Vaako moved first to kneel at his beloved mentor’s feet. “My Lord, forgive me. I am a disgrace to the Faith.”
“Nay lad,” Pe’thay lifts him to his feet with a hand under his chin. “You are young and still have much to learn.”
“Then teach me! Tell me what to do to regain your respect!”
“Regain?” Pe’thay repeats. “You’ve never lost my respect.” He steps away from the heat of the young man. “Surely by now you know why I must stay away from you. Hasn’t that randy Irgun initiated you in matters of the flesh?”
“Initiated? Irgun? He’s my oldest friend; he teases me with his conquests,” Vaako answers frowning. “That’s what today was about. I…I meant no disrespect to the Principle Purifier’s new converts.” As Pe’thay continued to stare at his bare chest, he adds, “And lack of uniforms in the Necropolis.” He hangs his head again. Though technically the catwalks only accessed the upper reaches of the past and present Lord Marshall statues ringing the sacred complex.
“Why would he want me? Irgun has his pick of any number of bed partners.” Vaako paces before the bed, unable to grasp what Irgun’s exploits have to do with the First Commander and these rooms. Raising deep green eyes, wide with a dawning comprehension, Vaako once more knelt before Pe’thay. “My Lord, please… Irgun did explain about a warrior’s needs. I…I didn’t realize you…that you…but you never…” A toss of braids to shake loose his scattered thoughts, Vaako recalls Irgun’s words.
During the long absences of forward operations missions, younger soldiers were used to relieve the needs of the veterans. In the time spent living within these rooms Pe’thay never brought a companion to warm his bed. Nor the few exploratory runs that Vaako had accompanied his mentor on. “I did not realize you had those needs. My Lord, I would serve you.” He reached to the man standing silent and still above him.
Pe’thay jerked as if scalded at the touch to his thigh. Gods, the lad would send him to the Threshold before his time, so innocent and earnest. His desire wars with his control as he licks his lip. “Nay Lad, rise, ‘tis not your body I would have,” he bites out. He turns away before his desire wins and he takes what is willingly offered. He wanted the lad as his mate, not a meaningless companion. Perhaps he had been wrong to keep his protégé from knowing about his own sexual exploits. Vaako had to come to him by his own choice as an equal partner. Not by any misguided need to please his mentor. “Go, we are done here. Return to your squad.” Pe’thay clutched the door jam to garner some control.
Not good enough. Found wanting again, Vaako rose slowly to his feet. Dejectedly he makes his way from the room. At the doorway he mirrors Pe’thay’s lip lick as he apologized. “Forgive me, my Lord. I will strive to become worthy of the Faith, though I am not worthy of you.”
The pink tongue slipping between the perfect bow of Vaako’s lips is too much. Pe’thay’s hand slides beneath the soft braids to pull the lad into a brutal kiss. Gasping for a breath, he shoves the startled youth away. As he licks Vaako’s taste from his lips, he growls, “Leave! Do not return until you understand!” Pe’thay thrusts him to the outer room, slamming the bedroom door behind him.
Confused and aroused, Vaako silently climbs to his bunk. Irgun has one, no two converts in the bunk below. Peering cautiously over the edge, he stifles a groan. Irgun is pounding into the red-head from earlier, as that one is fucking one of Irgun’s favorite females.
Vaako strips off his pants and strokes his needy arousal in time to the activity below. It’s not long before the crew below is crying out in completion, and Vaako follows soon after, biting into a fist to maintain his silence. Irgun and the blond help the new convert into his tattered robes, and then he escorts the pair to the outer room with a slap to the red-head’s tender bottom. “Enjoy him well my sweet, before Thuskine gets his meaty cock up this delicious ass and steals him from our little harem.”
Catching a movement in the upper bunk, Irgun calls out “Vaako! Why didn’t you join us?” He flops onto his bed with an expansive sigh. Now that’s an ass he’d love to plunder. “Tennie has always wanted to ride you. Or did the First Commander ream you well,” he laughs.
“Enough of your games Irgun. The First Commander would not want me in that way.”
“Vaako! Are you dense? Have you not seen how he watches you?”
“Nay Irgun, I am nothing but a disappointment to him. I…I offered to serve him, but he threw me out of his chambers,” Vaako finishes in a small voice. He would not mention the mind-blowing kiss.
“You…? He did? Tell me everything. I know he’s wanted you for years.”
“No! Stop this foolishness. He told me his did not want my body.”
“Not want…? That’s it! Oh Vaako my boy!” Irgun chortles. “No more of those dusty military books for you boy. They’ve addled your brain. Of course, he wants you as his Mate!” He lays back already devising schemes.
Stunned Vaako stares at the ceiling. Pe’thay’s mate? Me?
TBC