Disclaimer: I do not own She-Ra or its related characters. All is the property of Noelle Stevenson, Dream Works Animation, Netflix, NBCUniversal Television Distribution, Filmation, Larry DiTillo, and J. Michael Straczynski.
Inconvenient Arrangements
Chapter Twenty-Two: Rescue on Phantos
As a planet under martial law by Imperial decry, the finite space around Phantos was restricted space. Not ship could leave or come to Phantos without prior Imperial clearance. Luckily, Skeletor could forge absolutely perfectImperial documents. One would think he used to be a very high ranking Horde officer with how expertly he could compose a document and attach all the right clearance codes.
At the helm, Trap Jaw keyed in the transmission for their forged clearance documents. The signature on it was so detailed that one would think Skeletor actually had Prince Hec-Tor Kur's real thumbprint.
There was the beat of a pause in which Trap Jaw and Tri-Klops held their breath, imagining that at any minute the control tower was going to catch them on their forgery and order the dreadnaughts in orbit to open fire on them. But they didn't. After a prolonged pause, the control tower gave them the all clear to proceed and Trap Jaw brought the ship in to land on the planet's surface.
The skies of Phantos were a dark inky-blue, but the clouds were a deep and vivid fuchsia, a color derived from the red dwarf star the planet orbited.
Tri-Klops adjusted his center eye to night-vision to compensate for the dim lighting.
Both he and Trap Jaw stood atop the gangplank of their ship, both wearing uniforms of Horde Enlisted that they had 'borrowed' from the guards of a supply shipment they intercepted some time ago. Just by looking at them, no one would be able to tell that they did not belong on a Horde-held world. Their leader, however, was not so lucky.
Apparently, the Horde Empire managed to get some footage of Skeletor on the security cams of Nordor. While they didn't know his name, they had his face (or, skull), and had plastered it on every screen in the Empire along with a hefty bounty. On a planet under martial law like Phantos, it wouldn't take much more than five minutes from the moment Skeletor stepped out of the ship before he was recognized and arrested.
Exchanging a look, no words spoken between the two of them, both Trap Jaw and Tri-Klops looked back into the ship for their leader.
"You want us to take point on this, Boss?" Asked Tri-Klops.
"Since you're 'face' is now the most famous face in the Empire." Elaborated Trap Jaw.
"No need." Skeletor's high nasal voice issued from the ship. He appeared on the gangplank with them only moments later.
Or, rather, someone appeared on the gangplank with them only moments later. He was dressed like Skeletor, armored boots that went up to his knees, under a leather loincloth with a wide waistband and decorative skull-shaped belt buckle, two belts crossed over his chest, light shoulder armor, and a hood covering his head. All of it arranged over a body covered in dusky blue skin. But the face that looked out from the hood was not a skull at all. It wasn't even bony.
A square jaw, covered in neatly trimmed facial hair. Full lips, the top lip with a bit of a cupid's bow curve to it. A wide nose. Almond eyes with sharp corners of a brown so dark they might as well have been black. A high forehead. Straight, perfectly symmetrical eyebrows. All of it crowned by dark ebony hair that was swept back under the hood revealing a sharp widows peak to the hairline.
It was all Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw could do to just stare at him.
"It's a glamour." Explained the face with Skeletor's voice.
"Is that what you really look like, Boss?" Asked Trap Jaw. "I mean, before you turned all… Myehh…"
"No." Skeletor answered simply. The face he had before was too famous and too recognizable. Every Horde soldier would recognize Prince Imperial Keldor, Prince Hec-Tor's lost love that he exhausted nearly countless resources to search for but never found. It would take less than five minutes on any Horde-held world for him to be recognized, and that would be a whole different kind of problem. "But it's close enough to not look out of place on the rest of my body."
They continued to stare at him a moment longer.
Skeletor sighed with exasperation. Sometimes, working with his henchmen was like herding his younger brothers. No matter how important the task at hand, they could not focus unless all other distractions were removed.
"Alright. You each get one question." He groaned.
"So, like, I knew you were Gar, but going by your skull shape, I always imagined your eyes being rounder than the average Gar's." Announced Trap Jaw.
"That's not a question." Skeletor informed him.
"Don't glamours not work on cameras and stuff?" Tri-Klops had an actual question. "Won't your cover be blown the moment anyone looks at literally any security feeds?"
"That's two questions. But since it's relevant, I'll answer them." Skeletor nodded. "A glamour is magic, which means it's subject to magical rules. My true appearance will still show up in reflections on 'natural' surfaces. Any glass made from sand, any mirror that contains silver, water –obviously. Most analogue cameras will capture my true appearance, but most cameras used by the Horde are digital not analogue and can be fooled by magic."
Skeletor waited a beat to see if either of them were going to make any further comments. When they didn't immediately open their mouths, he brushed past them down the gangplank.
…
There were three ways the Horde kept Queen Elmora in place and obedient.
The first was placing a military blockade around the planet and controlling all off-world imports. Any supplies from other planets, regardless if they were essential or simply a luxury, were held hostage by the occupying Horde.
The second was to replace the bulk of her own forces, palace guards, industry guards, industry workers, and miners with Horde forces. Both Enlisted and clones. Workers and soldiers that were loyal to the Empire and not to her.
The third was to take Elmora's brother, Barbo, as a political hostage. He was a guest of the occupying Horde commander, Darkney, on their command dreadnaught.
With so much leverage over her, what else could Elmora do but submit to the Horde's every whim and command.
So, when a group of strangers from off-world came to her in the privacy of her chambers, forgoing the formality of the throne room and sneaking past the guards, she was more than just wary. She was downright fearful. Nothing good ever came of strangers sneaking into a person's bedroom without the bedroom resident's foreknowledge or permission. Especially not while under harsh Imperial martial law.
Elmora didn't pause to demand what was the meaning of this, or ask who they were or what they wanted. When people snuck into a room while the planet was under martial law they were either assassins sent from the Horde to remove her permanently, or else… here to do worse to her.
Raising her hands, she cast a wordless spell, shooing white-gray power from her hands at the intruders.
The middle one reacted more quickly than his two companions, raising his staff –a long, fancy number with a decorative ram's head with tightly spiraled horns- and blocked Elmora's attack spell. So, at least one of them was a sorcerer like her. Well, at least these assassins were competent. If she was going to be killed by brigands in the night at least she wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of being killed by incompetent Imperial oafs. She raised her hands to cast another spell.
"Wait!" Shouted the one in the middle. The one with the ram's head staff that blocked her first attack. Clearly, he was their leader.
Elmora wasn't going to wait, she was about to let loose another spell at the intruders, but then she caught the leader in profile reflected in her bedroom mirror. Unlike the transparasteel windows which were highly processed synthetic material, her mirror was real glass over a quicksilver backing. It saw past glamours and reflected the truth. And the truth of the face she was seeing in profile in her mirror was not that of a roguishly handsome Gar, but rather, the bone that would be underneath it. A skull face. Naked of skin, empty eye sockets, and a death-grin.
It was also a face she recognized from the Wanted bulletin.
Elmora did now lower her arms. "You're the one the Prince is looking for."
For the briefest of moments, Skeletor felt a stab of irrational panic. Did she recognize him? Did he make his glamour too close to what his real face used to look like? Was he somehow recognizable as the lost Prince Imperial Keldor?
But Elmora's eyes were not focused directly at him. She was looking a little bit to the side. Skeletor followed her line of sight until he caught the mirror, and his reflection in it. The bare bone of his skull glare back at him with its perpetual toothy grin.
"Oh." He said out loud. Elmora didn't mean he was 'the one the Prince is looking for', the long-lost husband. She meant 'the one the Prince is looking for', the criminal and enemy of the Empire. So much for a glamour. That was a short-lived deception. Well, at least it got them from the space port to the palace without being recognized (a feat that could have just as easily been achieved with a hood). Skeletor cleared his throat. "Yes."
"What are you doing here?" Elmore kept her hands up. She might know the intruder's identity now, but she still lacked a reason to trust him and his comrades.
Still gazing at his own reflection in the mirror, Skeletor traced a thumb over the lower mandible of his jaw. It felt so trance to be in a royal suit, surrounded by all the luxury royalty could afford, staring at his own reflection in a gilded mirror, and yet the face that stared back at him was not the handsome, blue skinned, face with mixed race features of Prince Keldor. For a heartbeat of a moment, Skeletor felt so out of place in his own skin he didn't even feel real.
Then he forced himself to break his gaze with himself in the mirror and bring his attention back to the matter at hand.
Skeletor cleared his throat. "I have a business proposal for you." He explained. "You don't want the Horde occupying your world anymore, and I don't want Horde Prime on the throne anymore. Both our enemies and our goals are parallel, we should pool our resources and work together."
At that announcement, Elmora laughed. A thick wet snort of a laugh. The most unladylike laugh. An uncensored reaction to the sheer absurdity of his suggestion.
"I case you haven't noticed Mr…"
"Skeletor will do."
"Mr. Skeletor, I have no real power anymore." Elmora pointed out. "Even if I did want to work with you, I couldn't. I can't do anything."
There was a beat of a pause. Skeletor thinking. The two ebony lines of the eyebrows on his glamour knitting together in thought. It was a very believable glamour. If the antique mirror hadn't revealed his true face, Elmora would have been very willing to believe that he really did look like that. A handsome, roguish Gar warrior, on the older edge of his prime.
"I can falsify ship IDs and shipping documents so that my people can come and go through the Horde's blocade almost freely." He told her. "And get some of my people in under false Imperial IDs to replace some of the Enlisted soldiers in your palace, or in your refineries." Skeletor specified 'or' instead of 'and' because he did not have a surplus of minions. He had to make sure they were deployed as effectively as possible, in the most advantageous positions possible. "Why can't you work with me?"
That question made a bubble of anger simmer up to the surface. Not exactly directed at him. It was focusless. But, Skeletor was who she was addressing when she said, "I wouldn't expect a terrorist like you to understand." She snapped. "But they have my brother and will kill him if I don't continue to cooperate with them. So, you see, Skeletor, if I do help you, I might get the Horde off my planet, but I'd lose my brother."
Those perfectly straight and symmetrical eyebrows of his glamour went up, as did the corners of his mouth in an optimistic smile. "Oh. Is that all?" Asked Skeletor. "All I have to do to get you to work with me is rescue your brother?"
Elmora sputtered for half a moment. That was not the reaction she was expecting from him. She was expecting something along the lines of a speech about how his plans concerned the whole universe and what was one man in the grand scheme of things? Instead it was just, so, if I do this impossible thing for you, you'll help me. As if that impossible thing were not impossible at all. Just a little side-quest to help him along his main quest. Irrationally, it made Elmora feel optimistic.
"You can rescue my brother?" She asked, breath bated with suspense.
"Well, I haven't tried yet." Skeletor shrugged. "Shouldn't be too hard. Darkney's not exactly a hardened soldier."
Skeletor said this as if he were someone who might have known Commander Darkney personally.
Elmora's throat felt inexplicably tight and she wondered if she looked like she was about to cry. If Barbo could be rescued from the Horde… If he was safe… "If you rescue-" Elmora croaked, then cleared her throat. "Ahem. If you can rescue my brother, I will help you in whatever capacity that I'm able."
…
Darkney used to be an inspector before he was a military commander. This was one of the reasons why he was given command over the occupying garrison on Phantos. It was a deployment that did not require combat aptitude, all it needed was logistical and bureaucratic experience. That was also why Darkney scrutinized Skeletor's security clearance so critically.
His one good eye glaring at Prince Hec-Tor Kur's thumbprint on the document. He looked back up at the one who held it.
A Gar by all outward appearances. Almond shaped eyes with sharp corners, straight perfectly trimmed and shaped eyebrows that were impossibly symmetrical. Ebony hair that was straight and pulled back tightly, showing that his hairline had a sharp widow's peak to it. Pointed ears, a wide nose, a square jaw covered in neatly trimmed facial hair. And –of course- the iconic blue skin that characterized the Gar race.
The thing was, Darkney hadn't heard of any Gar officers within the Horde that were a high enough rank to earn clearance signed by the Prince himself. Except for the Prince's late husband, Prince Imperial Keldor. But he was never an official member of the military and so not an officer. And he was also missing five years, presumed dead.
Darkney looked back up at the face of the Gar holding the document. He did not look a thing like Prince Keldor.
"Are you gonna take all fucking day?" Demanded the Gar.
Darkney was still suspicious. Darkney was suspicious about everything. He saw deceit and subterfuge everywhere –it was actually one of the things that had made him such an adept inspector back when he was one- but the Prince's thumb print was authentic. Darkney had no tangible grounds to deny the Gar and his retainers access to the command ship.
Reluctantly, Darkney passed the datapad back to the Gar. "I am always honored to serve the Imperial family or their agents." He said. But when the Gar –whom had yet to give his name- reached to take the datapad back, Darkney held on to it a moment longer. "I couldn't help but notice that the order does not cite a reason for this visit."
"The Prince Imperial isn't required to explain his reasons." The Gar reminded him. "He's a Prince."
"Of course." Darkney hated that about royals. They could do almost anything they wanted because they were royal, and didn't have to explain anything.
"Excellent." The Gar jerked the datapad out of Darkney's hand. "No need to show us around. I know my way around a dreadnaught class warship."
The Gar and his two companions brushed past Darkney.
Tri-Klops' eyes swiveled around to watch Darkney as they walked away from him, making sure the Horde commander wasn't following them. When they turned a corner and it seemed like they were not being tailed, he asked, "How long do you think it'll take him to realize our clearance was forged?"
"Shh." Skeletor hissed at him. "He'll figure it out a lot faster if you ask dumb questions like that."
"Why are we even doing this?" Asked Trap Jaw. "I looked up a little on Barbo while we were on the shuttle up here. He's not a sorcerer like Elmora, he doesn't have any useful powers, he's not ever a decent warrior."
"Barbo is not the one I'm trying to recruit as an ally." Skeletor reminded him. "I have little use for pampered princes, who rarely leave their palaces, and are as soft as the cushions they lounge on." Unbidden, a memory of Hec-Tor rose to the forefront of his mind. Hec-Tor, doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing hard after surviving a skirmish he had no business being in in the first place. Keldor staring at him, a trickle of blood (someone's blood) drying on his face. 'You're not as soft as I thought you were.' But Skeletor pushed the memory from his mind. "But, Barbo is important to Elmora, and Elmora is the one we want. Now shut up, both of you."
They stopped talking.
And a good thing, too. The trio rounded a corner and came face to face with two clone units walking in the opposite direction. If the clones –with their pointed ears and keen space bat hearing- heard any of their conversation, they gave no outward indication of it. Their faces remained as stoic and impassive as they always did. Their only reaction to Skeletor and his lieutenants being to fall in single file and salute as they passed each other.
Skeletor remembered the days when they would stop walking for him. Flatten themselves against the walls and bow as if he were some kind of reverent figure. But that was back when he was still fucking a member of the royal family. Not impersonating an Enlisted agent.
After they passed, Skeletor turned his head, following them with his eyes until they too turned a corner. There was no change in their posture, or their step. No indication that the clones thought they were anything but fellow members of the Horde. Still, Skeletor had a bad feeling in his gut. He never liked the clones, not even when they were waiting on him hand and foot.
"Let's pick up the pace." He ordered his companions.
They made it to the ship's brig without incident. The vast majority of the cells were empty. As a general rule, the Horde did not keep prisoners long.
But Barbo was a hostage, not the standard interrogate-then-dispose-of prisoner. He was a prisoner of value, kept alive –and presumably well- in order to keep a local leader in line.
They found his cell easily enough.
Elmora and Barbo were supposed to be siblings, but there was little resemblance to be seen between them.
Elmora was slender and lithe, with an angular face and narrow chin, and hair as red as fire itself. Barbo, by comparison, was tall and broad. With a square face and chiseled chin hidden behind a thick beard of chestnut brown hair. He wore a crown on his head that was spiked with animal tusks, and a cape of fur over his otherwise bare chest. In fact, Barbo could have easily past for an Eternian, if it weren't for the fact that his muscles were the wrong balance for a warrior. More the kind of sculpted physique a person got from body building, not from combat.
Barbo stood when he noticed the three newcomers outside his cell. His usual guards were all clones. Space bats with blank expressions and empty eyes. Not Enlisted soldiers that were high enough rank to be allowed to forgo the standard issue uniform and wear whatever crazy clothing –or lack of clothing as the case may be- as they wanted.
"Who are you?" Barbo demanded, though he was not in a position to demand anything of anyone.
Reaching into a pocket on the belt of his loincloth, the one in the middle, a Gar warrior, took out what looked like a single finger cut from a latex glove. He slipped his single finger glove over his thumb and pressed it to the energy field that served as the fourth wall and bars of Barbo's cell. The energy field registered a thumb print on the latex and flickered green to acknowledge that it had access. He dragged his thumb down on the field and the light flickered a second time, then vanished. Leaving only empty air and an open cell in its place.
"One of these days, you gotta tell us the story of how you got Prince Hec-Tor's thumb print." Tri-Klops muttered behind his back.
"Some other time." Skeletor muttered back, peeling the latex finger-glove off his thumb and stowing it safely back in his belt. He looked up at Barbo –whom was much taller than him. Tall, and wide, and muscular, with thick facial hair… fuck! This was not the kind of prince he expected to rescue. Skeletor cleared his throat. "We're here to rescue you."
There was a moment's hesitation. A rescue? But, he didn't know these people, why would they want to rescue him? Was it a Horde trick? The Horde was sometimes known for deception.
Then Trap Jaw added, "Elmora sent us. Your sister."
That was all the convincing Barbo needed. His eyebrows went up almost cheerfully, and he smiled at them as if they were good friends even he didn't know a single one of their names. "Oh, Ellie, did? A rescue. That's great!"
Barbo stepped out of the cell.
Big, and trusting, and stupid. He would fit right in on Eternia. Almost everyone was big and stupid there.
"Let's go." Skeletor growled, not wanting to waste time.
They lead Barbo down the same corridor they just came through.
Except when they turned the corner this time, they were met with a wall of clones. Standing shoulder to shoulder, blocking the corridor completely. Two rows thick.
"Fuck!" Skeletor said aloud. He knew he had a bad feeling about this.
Pushing his way between two clones, Darkney stepped out in front. "I knew there was something suspicious about you!" He announced. "Prince Hec-Tor Kur has no Gar lieutenants or agents."
"Yeah, cause you're so familiar with the Prince's inner circle." Skeletor rolled the eyes of his glamour. He never liked Darkney.
"Kill the intruders!" Darkney commanded the clones. "Return the prisoner to his cell alive."
The clones stepped around Darkney to carry out the orders.
Acting fast, forgoing magic, Skeletor grabbed Barbo by the belt of the man's own fur loincloth and yanked him heavy bulk around the corner. Just in time to avoid blaster fire from the clone's arm canons.
Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw knelt beside them. Skeletor didn't even check to make sure they were okay. He assumed that if they were well enough to be taking cover too, they were fine.
"Well, Boss, what's the escape plan now?" Asked Trap Jaw.
Skeletor was trying to remember a spell. Out loud he answered his henchman's question. "It doesn't look like Darkney's got any Enlisted on his ship. Since we arrived all we've seen are clone units."
"So?" Demanded Tri-Klops, not following his leader's trail of thought. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Clones are space bats." Skeletor reminded them all. He remembered the spell he was thinking of now. "And bats have very sensitive hearing."
Raising his Havoc Staff, using it to magnify his magic and project the spell almost all over the dreadnought, Skeletor cast Sonic.
A wave shuddered through the air. It raised the hair on the back of their necks, and Trap Jaw head a buzzing in his ears on a frequency he couldn't quite pick up. Skeletor knew that if he still had ears (the illusion ears of his glamour did not count) he would feel a similar buzzing. But for the clone units just around the corner, it was more than just a low buzzing. It was on a frequency that tore through their ear-drums, damaging the inner ear. Causing problems with equilibrium, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and fainting.
When Skeletor stepped back around the corner, it was to find Darkney standing in a semi-circle of fallen clone bodies, their ears bleeding.
Darkney tried pulling out his own sidearm and just shooting Skeletor himself. But the sorcerer cast Immobilize before Darkney could even get the weapon out of its holster. Skeletor shoved him to the side as if he were nothing.
"Let's go." Skeletor called over his shoulder.
Tri-Klops and Trap Jaw escorted Barbo past Darkney as well. The whole while, Barbo looking at Skeletor's back as if the sorcerer were the most amazing person he'd ever seen.
…
Skeletor brought Barbo right back to Elmora in her chambers.
The look on her face told Skeletor that she never actually believed they could rescue her brother. After all, no one else had ever broken into a Horde capital ship and lived to tell the tale. But then, no one else had Skeletor's insider knowledge of the Horde.
He leaned against a wall –being sure to keep out of the lines of sight of Elmora's mirror this time- and watched the siblings embrace. For half a second, it made Skeletor think of his own brothers and what they might be doing at this exact moment. Stephan sitting on his Salt Throne in Dyperia, or Randor ruling over all of Eternia. Each of them got to be exactly what they wanted to be, and do exactly what they wanted to do. And Skeletor, he wanted…
His eyes fell on the chronometer on the mantle and realized he let the siblings' reunion drag on too long. The immobility spell he put on Darkney would be wearing off soon. He'd be decanting new clones and putting together a retrieval force.
Skeletor wanted to leave.
"We have to go now." He told them.
The siblings broke out of their hug and Elmora fixed Skeletor with a critical stare. She didn't entirely like him. But he did do what he said he would do. He rescued her brother from the Horde. "I told you I'd help you if you saved Barbo, and you did. What do you want from me in return?"
"I need you to stay in the position you're already in." Skeletor informed her. "I need you to keep being Queen of Phantos. To that end, when Darkney and his forces come looking for the prisoner we just broke out, you need to feign ignorance. You know nothing of your brother's escape. As far as you were aware the Horde still had him. They also can't find Barbo here. I'll take him off world with me when I leave."
Elmora tightened her arm around her brother's waist. They were only just reunited. She did not want him to be taken from her again so soon.
But, she also saw the necessity of it. Elmora agreed to help Skeletor in exchange for her brother's rescue from the Horde. Skeletor held-up his end of the bargain. Reluctantly, Elmora nodded. "And what do you need me to actually do in my position as Queen of Phantos?"
"I have some ore from Krytis." He told her. "Ore I need refined. You have access to refineries and factories."
"You want me to refine your ore for you." Elmora nodded, understanding. Then a thought occurred to her. "Krytis is another Horde held world. It's a prison planet and only Horde personnel are allowed to come and go from it. How'd you get any ore off Krytis?"
Skeletor only looked at her, that glamour he was still wearing giving a roguish smirk. "I've been at this a while."
…
Skeletor didn't breathe a sigh of relief until they had left the Phantos system and were no longer in danger of being pursued by Horde fighters. He planned to drop Barbo off on Eternia's Dark Moon before heading back to Snake Mountain. From what he could tell, Barbo had the kind of open and honest earnestness that would not function well in Skeletor's overall schemes and plans. He could not integrate Barbo into the ranks of his henchmen.
He left Trap Jaw and Tri-Klops in the cockpit, trusting the two to be able to pilot them back home without incident, and went to give Barbo the rundown of what happens from here. They'd set him up with a place to stay on the Dark Moon, not too nice as to draw attention, but nice enough that the royal wouldn't complain.
But talking did not seem to be what Barbo had in mind when Skeletor knocked on the door to his bunk.
The moment he announced himself as Skeletor come to talk, and not either of the other two, the door slid open so fast it impacted the inside of the track with a loud THUNK.
Skeletor stepped inside to find the lights dimmed, and Barbo reclining on the narrow ship's bunk wearing nothing but a smile.
Skeletor froze in the doorway, having the oddest feeling of déjà vu.
"I realized," Barbo began an explanation, "that I haven't properly thanked you for rescuing me."
Standing there, the eyes of Skeletor's glamour trailed up Barbo's body. Rounded and well defined calve, powerful looking thighs, semi-erect cock rising up from a tangle of curly dark pubic hair. A waist almost as narrow as his hips, toned and chiseled abdominals shaped into an almost perfect six-pack, equally toned pectorals. All of it covered in a thin layer of body hair. And Barbo, smiling through his beard, looking confident, almost smug. He knew exactly how attractive he was.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Skeletor leaned against the door frame. The lips of his glamour pulling into a smirk of his own. "You seem rather sure of yourself. What makes you think this is even the kind of 'thank you' I'm interested in?"
Barbo didn't change his position. He didn't look the least bit nervous. He just shifted the position of one hand to begin stroking his already half-hard cock. "Are you uninterested?"
Pausing a second longer, Skeletor considered. It had been so very, very, very long since he last got fucked. And Barbo was exactly his type. Big, muscled, hairy, a little dumb, and very confident. Hell, his confidence was actually more attractive than that giant slice of beef he called a body. Hec-Tor was never as confident.
"I'm not uninterested." Skeletor came into the room fully and slid the door shut behind him, making sure to lock it in case either Trap Jaw or Tri-Klops came looking for him.
Shifting on the narrow ship's cot, Barbo sat up just enough for Skeletor to come and sit in his lap.
Skeletor did go over and sit on the cot. On the edge, at the very end of the frame. Not even close to Barbo's lap. His back partially to the other man as he began unstrapping his boots. As if just taking his armor off at the end of the day. No big deal. Nothing sexy or seductive at all.
Leaning forward, Barbo began to take Skeletor's hood off for him.
The Gar moved faster than Barbo thought he could, standing from the cot, hands going to hold the over his head and make sure it didn't shift out of place. "That stays on."
Barbo looked startled for a moment. Confused by the suddenness.
Skeletor blinked at him. His glamour only concealed the front of his face and head. He always wore his hood nowadays anyway, so Skeletor hadn't bothered to give the illusion full coverage. He was fairly certain Barbo –or anyone for that matter- wouldn't wanna sleep with him if they saw what he really looked like. Hell! Skeletor wouldn't wanna sleep with himself, not with a nightmare face like the one he had now!
"I… have a scar." He finally offered a flimsy explanation. If you could even call all the soft tissue from your head being magically gone 'a scar'. "Everything else can come off, though."
He unclasped his belt buckle. Hec-Tor always had trouble with it, even after years of marriage and countless sexual escapades. So, now, Skeletor just always assumed off-worlders didn't understand Eternian clothing. The belt fell away and landed on the floor with a muted THUNK. He pushed the armored loincloth down too, and his underwear.
Now wearing only his hood and the armored gauntlets on his wrists, Skeletor crawled back onto the cot.
Barbo pulled Skeletor into his lap. Skeletor could feel his hard length press against his back, and he readjusted his position to slide the shaft between the cheeks of his ass.
"Where do you keep the lube on this ship?" Barbo asked softly into the fabric of his hood.
"So impatient…" Skeletor crooned, leaning back against the solid wall that was Barbo's chest. "I thought you were supposed to be thanking me. Where's the foreplay?"
Barbo's hands drifted down the chiseled plain of Skeletor's abs. One hand hooking around the thigh to pull the leg up, the other wrapping around Skeletor's semi-still cock. He stroked up and down, keeping his motions slow. Almost agonizingly slow.
"Mm, foreplay…" Barbo purred.
Skeletor rocked his hips, trying to move more rapidly within Bargo's grip, trying to get him to stroke his cock faster. The motion causing Barbo's own dick to slide between his ass, stroking it faster than Barbo was stroking him.
"To put us in the mood." Skeletor elaborated.
Circling the head of Skeletor's dick with his thumb, Barbo spread about a bead of pre-cum. "You seem like you're already in the mood."
Skeletor's breath hitched. "Nothing gets the blood up like escaping the Horde."
"Agreed." Barbo scraped the flat pallet of his front teeth against Skeletor's shoulder. "Where do you keep the lube?"
When Skeletor didn't answer immediately, Barbo quickened the pace of his stroking. Rubbing it faster, and faster until Skeletor was panting and groaning in his lap.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that." Barbo crooned into the fabric of his hood. "Where did you say the lube was?"
"Bunk chest." Skeletor managed to gasp out. "Foot of the bed."
He moved to crawl out of Barbo's lap to try and grab it, but Barbo wrapped his massive arm around Skeletor's mid-section, preventing him from going anywhere.
"Let me get it." He said, voice thick and husky with arousal.
He leaned over Skeletor, his massive body completely covering the Gar's. Skeletor felt the larger man's pectorals press into his shoulders as Barbo arched his back, bending over his to get at the bunk chest. Skeletor felt himself shiver with anticipation. Barbo was so huge! Not just his giant throbbing cock, but his everything. Wide chest and broad shoulders. Thick muscles that could literally pick Skeletor up if he wanted to. And tall enough to envelop him completely.
There was a moment's pause in which Barbo had to search through the bunk chest. But when he pulled his hand out again, he was holding the tube of lubricant.
Letting himself fall back onto the cot, Barbo pulled Skeletor with him, making sure the smaller man ended up back in his lap.
Barbo squeezed the lube onto the fingers of his hand, spreading it around, making sure they were nice and slick. He squeezed out a little bit more and to spread onto Skeletor, pressing the pad of his middle finger into the entrance just a little bit.
Skeletor gasped at the sensation. It had been so long since anything had penetrated him back there, and Barbo's finger by itself was already so big!
At his slight gasp, Barbo paused, his fingers moving away slightly. "You are a bottom, right?"
"Versatile." Skeletor croaked. "But, it's been a while."
"I'll go slow." Barbo promised.
His fingers returned to Skeletor's ass. Running circles around the rim, spreading the lube around more, and massaging the area.
When Barbo felt Skeletor relax in his arms, Barbo tried pressing a finger in again. Just the pad of his finger tip at first. More to work some of the lube inside. Skeletor's breath still hitched at the sensation, his hips wriggling in Barbo's lap. When Skeletor didn't protest, or voice any discomfort, Barbo moved the finger in deep.
Still moving slowly. Sinking it in only to about the first joint. Then wiggling it around to loosen up the entrance. Skeletor wasn't kidding. It must have been a while. He was so tight! For half a moment, Barbo wondered if he was a virgin.
"Tell me if it's too much." Barbo pressed a kiss to Skeletor's shoulder, the same spot he raked his teeth against earlier.
"I can take more." Skeletor told him, sounding almost as if he were issuing a challenge. A gasping, shallow breathed challenge.
With his free hand, Barbo pressed it to Skeletor's chest, feeling his heartbeat, and steadying the other man as he pressed his finger in deeper. Going up to the knuckle. …Then past it. Barbo's whole finger was inside him now, and Skeletor was so. Fucking. Tight!
Skeletor moaned at the sensation.
With the other hand still on his chest, Barbo traveled up Skeletor's chest. Over his pectorals, heading to the collar bone, and- He paused when he felt something under the fabric of the hood's cowl-neck collar. A metal chain, warmed by his skin.
Curious, Barbo maneuvered the chain out from under the hood so that he could get a look at it.
The chain was nothing special. Plain and utilitarian. Practical interlocking links. But hanging from the chain was a ring. Silver, and just a little tarnished. But still clearly identifiable as a man's wedding band.
"You're married?" Barbo blurted out before he could stop himself.
Skeletor turned around. Twisting his body in the larger man's lap to snatch the ring and it's chain out of his hand. "That was a long time ago."
Barbo stared at him. Putting the pieces together and drawing his own conclusion. Skeletor said he had been married a long time ago, and he also said that it had been a while since he last had sex. "You lose someone?" Barbo asked, voice gentle and sympathetic. "To the Horde?"
That made sense. Skeletor was the leader of a terrorist faction that was working against the Horde, and he was apparently successful enough at it that Prince Hec-Tor Kur himself was filing Wanted ads for him. Perhaps Skeletor's motivation was the loss of the one he loved at the hands of the Horde.
Skeletor readjusted the chain around his neck, and the collar of his hood. Making sure that no metal was showing from under the fabric. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"Uh, sure." Barbo nodded. If it was emotional and painful, he probably didn't wanna think about it during sex. Kinda a mood killer. "Do you… want me to continue."
"Yes." Skeletor assured him. "Just keep your hands below the neck."
So, Barbo continued. Wiggling the finger that was already inside him. Trying to loosen him up. When Barbo was confident again, he slipped in a second finger.
Sitting in Barbo's lap, feeling his fingers moving inside him, Skeletor's hand drifted up to finger the ring that hung at his throat. He was being fingered by another man, and about to get fucked. With a partner that was everything he could want. Large, and muscular, and hairy, with thick fingers and a huge cock. But all Skeletor could think about now was skinny and frail Hec-Tor.
"Is this still working for you?" Barbo muttered in Skeletor's ear, suddenly unsure of what he was doing.
"Sure." He muttered back. He did like what was going on with his body. But his mind was now elsewhere.
Keldor didn't always top with Hec-Tor. Par-Is, being the perfect diplomatic mediator between her brother and Keldor, managed to convey to Hec-Tor (without hurting his ever precious feelings) that it would be better for his husband if he covered the barbs of his shaft. A silicone sheath that hugged the shaft, but left the tip exposed, so that Hec-Tor could top without causing any discomfort to his husband.
Their sex-life, and their marriage, improved exponentially because of it.
Keldor remembered lying awake one night, leaning over Hec-Tor after he already passed out from their love making (and it was 'love making' by that point), and thinking he could be happy. …With Hec-Tor. Running a hand over the sharp angle of his cheek bone. Realizing that his space bat face didn't look quite as nightmarish as it did when their marriage was first arranged. Hec-Tor's features hadn't changes at all, but Keldor's perceptions of them had. Hec-Tor was intelligent, and attentive, and affectionate, and they really did work well together. The military was successful and the Empire was powerful, and Keldor was… content.
Barbo was about to slip in a third finger.
But Skeletor pulled away.
"Did I hurt you?" Barbo asked, concerned.
"No." Skeletor assured him, bracing his hands on the larger man's knees. He –slowly- lifted himself up off Barbo's finger. "I just-"
Skeletor didn't know what to say. This had never happened to him before. He climbed off the cot and picked his loincloth up off the floor, slipping it back on sans underwear. He picked up his boots, and belt, and any other clothing of his that was on the floor.
"I just realized- -I- -I can't do this."
…