"Any man's measure is determined by what he will do when he is faced with his own deep need. Not how high he may reach but how low he may kneel."

― J. Otis Yoder, When You Pray.

PART I

Gar'ja placed the last of the kapa's on the zulka'lara, admiring the empty, black sockets that stared back at him. This time, he had defeated ten of them, ten of the best warriors in that remote world. He was proud of his accomplishment, and yet, there was an emptiness in his chest.

The victories had been disturbingly easy. He had painstakingly selected the strongest and best warriors, yet they had provided little resistance. He'd noticed, as he got older, the kv'vars were less challenging. His tusks clicked in agitation, he was restless. The hormonal imbalance in his bloodstream was affecting him. There was only one thing to do when this happened…

He activated the thrusters on his man'daca , set the course on the holographic panel, and settled into his pilot's seat. The sleek craft soared into the orange sky, heading for the stars. The hyperspace engaged as soon as he was cleared.

The trip would take a standard rotation, perhaps two, Gar'ja would relax in the small cabin onboard in the meantime. The oval room was decorated with numerous zul'ka, the centerpiece being a rug made from the woolly hide of a wa'hela, a predatory creature with large fangs and claws curved like a sickle. Above it, an oil lamp made from the horns of a cha'gala, grazing herbivores which inhabited the mountains of Darad, a hunting planet near his homeworld.

Gar'ja stripped off his body mesh and chest plates, placing them meticulously inside the cylindrical container at one end of the room. The dim light from the lamp fell on his navy skin as he lay upon the large pelt, tinting it a sepia shade, it matched the fur of the carpet.

By Yaksa standards, Gar'ja was a magnificent specimen, considered by many to be the spitting image of Ta'xet, one of the sons of Ceta'nu. He towered over the average male in his clan by a head, he could almost look a female in the eye. His muscles were firm, he trained daily to stay at unparalleled form. If there was ever any doubt to his prowess, his trophy wall was proof enough. He'd sired many powerful offspring, his amber eyes reflected his intelligence, and he had beautiful sapphire dreadlocks that he tied above his crest in a topknot.

Stories about his exploits were well known in the clan, he'd even overheard a young blood say he was invincible once. His chest had swelled with pride when he heard of this praise and that his enemies had never been able to injure him. Gar'ja had to admit that it was true, his large body lacked many of the permanent scars that adorned the bulk of his race. A fact that highly irritated him.

It wasn't for a lack of trying either, Gar'ja had hunted vicious prey, in considerably hostile environments. He simply came out unscathed every time. It frustrated him, he had no wondrous imperfections to display as he wove tales of his triumphs over cn'tlip , many of his companions had scars to show off during their drunken displays of camaraderie. Clan leaders, like R'sna, had their bodies streaked with wounds that they presented proudly. Females were attracted to cicatrixes.

A lost limb was a source of pride and status. He drew his ceremonial knife from the belt sheath and dragged the blade down his calf muscle. Gar'ja was not going to deliberately mar himself, faking a wound was against the Code. If it was discovered, it was punishable by banishment or death.

There were other ways… He restrained his impulses and sheathed his dagger. Patience . He purred to himself, he was a Yaksa, he would wait, his destination was not far. He stood and pressed a few buttons on the wall. A recessed shelf opened and Gar'ja took a flask of chartreuse elixir, pouring it into a kan'dan made from a ghomon s' skull and gulped it down. Soon .

- o -

Gazes immediately focused on Gar'ja when he entered the establishment. This brothel was one of the few places where the Yaksa openly showed themselves.

Te'vana had been discovered cycles ago by a clan of pathfinders that had been exploring this sector of space. They found the world was inhabited by a matriarchal primitive civilization that was in a state of cultural stagnation, its denizens were almost entirely dedicated to hedonistic life and received the clan effusively.

It was not long after its discovery that a powerful, ancient Yaska female established an outpost where rogue warriors, bounty hunters, and poachers could relax after their hunts. It was not a reputable institution.

A large, fawn female with umber speckles intercepted him. She ran her claws down his back, pausing momentarily on his covered glutes. Her talons brushed against the front of his loincloth daringly. Gar'ja clicked and simply pushed the female aside, his attention was on the matron. The ancient female was reclining regally amidst a pile of pillows, her beady amber gaze on him.

-"What brings you here, kau'tika?" She spoke clearly at his approach, "This is no place for someone of your clan." She had recognized the marks on his armor.

Gar'ja took his mask off and stared back at her intently. It was true that, publicly, Yaksa did not frequent the place. However, it was known through clan ranks that many young hunters came here to... train . Veterans, like him, did not.

-"What do others seek when they come here, female?" Gar'ja countered slowly.

Her tusks clicked, amber eyes watched him in consideration, "In my kingdom, there is no place for death," the matron said matter-of-factly, her eyes narrowed, "only pleasure."

-"Then you have your answer."

The matron huffed, he was another of those arrogant males. She raised a hand and motioned to one of the loitering females. A naked, pink humanoid stood nervously. He did note she was naked and as she got closer, he realized it was a ghomon.

-"Gkei'muna is one of our finests females." the petite ghomon made a reverence, "she'll do anything you command…" the matron said, and added, "just try not to leave any permanent marks."

Gar'ja gave his head a shake and snorted. The female paused, and then returned to where she had been as he glared in disgust at her. As if he would taint himself with an animal.

The matron snapped her fingers and another female came forward. She was a young Yaksa this time, with long mahogany dreadlocks and cedar skin. She had bronze metal rings around her neck and the membranes between her jaws were pierced by heavy golden hoops. She wore a simple loincloth covering her yon'i.

Gar'ja looked her over, and chuffed. She was smaller than he, he doubted she'd even had her chiva. He waved her off, "You insult me," he grunted, returning his attention to the old matron.

-"Then tell me, kv'var-de," the matron leaned back in her pillows, "If not soft ghomon flesh, or a docile Yaksa female, what is it you seek here?"

A deafening silence fell as the crowd pretended to not listen in on their conversation. He straightened beneath her steady gaze, "There is no creature that I have not been able to subdue," he explained calmly, "and that includes the females of my clan."

A quilled eyebrow rose, and she blatantly looked down his body from head to foot. There were no scars gracing his scales, if not for the marks on his armour, he would have passed for a young blood. The ghost of a smile crept across her jaw.

-"I know what you specialize in here," he raised his head, "I seek the other spectrum. Can you… accommodate?"

He puffed his chest out as the matron raked her eyes over him again. Her tusks clicked rapidly for a brief moment, betraying her excitement. It had been a very long time since she'd been interested in a Yaksa male.

-"I think we can," she finally said. He remained still while the matron rose from her bed of pillows. She was massive, almost a full head taller than he, a testament to her great age and experience, "Come, kau'tika."

The crowd parted as the large Yaksa female led him away. No words were exchanged, until they reached a large door, she paused before it. "You've a choice warrior," she began slowly, "Come armed and fight valiantly," she paused for effect, "Or come naked and risk it all."

Gar'ja tilted his head, and without taking his eyes off the matron, began the arduous process of disarming himself. He stripped off all his awu'asa and vaj'ra cannon, he left his blades and removed belt until he stood in nothing but his leather loincloth. An eyeless creature with bulbous head and tentacles picked evetything up and stored them in an open container. It gurgled something unintelligible at the ancient female before disappearing with his things.

-"If you survive ," her voice was throaty, "everything will be returned."

The door led down a spiral flight of stairs, a dark hallway greeted them at the bottom. The lighting was dim, candles flickered as they walked by, moisture seeped through the masonry, and moss covered the walls. He could hear the drip drop of water all around him.

Although the darkness was not a problem for his species, Gar'ja felt uncomfortable. He'd never entered an unknown area unarmed before, his senses were on hyper alert as he monitored his surroundings carefully.

-"Are you afraid of the dark, warrior?" the female crooned, his hackles raised at the mockery he heard in her voice, "Bhu'ta doesn't like light."

At the end of the corridor was a giant forged metal gate. The matron placed her hand on a sensor on the wall and it opened. She extended a paw, inviting Gar'ja in.

As the kau'tika crossed the threshold, the heavy door slammed shut. Gar'ja whipped around and noticed the matron leaning against the locked egress.

-"Let's play, kv'var-de," she purred just as a deafening roar exploded behind him.

- o -

A/N: I hope you had really enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This work was a response to AO3 users Prickly_Panda and elven_prophecy who challenged me to write smut: something far outside my comfort zone. You asked, You got it.

Don't forget to comment and see you in Part II.

Bhu'ta - Pale-as-a-ghost.
chaga'la - a horned goat-like creature.
cn'tlip - alcoholic drink
Ceta'nu - God of death, Black warrior.
Darad - Mountain, the name of a mountainous planet.
Gar'ja - He-who-growls.
ghomon - How Predators call humans. Humanity as a whole.
Gkei'muna - Too-easy.
kapa' - Skull
kan'dan - Ceremonial bowl made from a skull.
kau'tika - Poacher.
kv'var - hunt
man'daca - Scout ship.
R'sna - Berserker.
Ta'xet - the Haida (south pacific tribe) god of violent death, his counterpart is Tia, the peaceful death.
Te'vana - Pleasure Garden, a yaksa outpost, place of a well-known brothel.
wa'hela - the bear wolf. A predatory woolly creature with large, sickle-like claws.
Yaksa - How predators call themselves.
yon'i - vagina.
zul'ka - Trophy, Prize.
zulka'lara - Trophy case, shelf