Creations 4: Caging the Beast
“It wasn’t enough Furon demanded he fight armed opponents. Now he had to battle two and three at a time, several fights a night. Tonight’s battles had been invigorating all the same. One of the Raggas was the strongest he’d encountered yet, and the Zeiren moved with both skill and stamina.
They’d lasted longer than any of the others, and the skirmishes had kept his mind off Tarn.
He walked into his cell with the object of his obsession following a step behind. Tarn walked easily, no injuries on his muscular frame. His damned loincloth played hell on Zachem’s nerves. Every time Tarn shifted, the thin fabric moulded to his groin, and that tempting bulge seemed to grow whenever Tarn saw him looking at it.
“Nice fight,” Tarn murmured and brushed against him as he passed by to the lav.
Zachem forced himself not to flinch. Only when Tarn had left the room did he give in to the tension bothering him.
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