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unbecoming, Piras.  We are not clanned.”
    The Dramok’s voice went cold.  “No, we’re not.  No matter how many times I ask, you continue to put me off.”
    Lidon stood, suited up and ready for a hard-fought battle on the field.  He walked straight to Piras, grabbed him by the back of his head, and yanked him close for a brutal, demanding kiss.
    Piras’ hands slammed against Lidon’s chest, trying to push him away.  Lidon persisted, shoving the captain up against the wall and grinding his groin against his as his tongue battled Piras’.  Piras continued to struggle, moaning a complaint into Lidon’s mouth even as his cocks swelled.  Lidon answered with a growl.
    Go on and fight me, damn it.  Dominate.  Be a Dramok.
    Lidon thought Piras might actually do it this time, especially since he didn’t want the Nobek playing kurble.  Once in awhile Piras became the same forceful, exciting male he was outside of the bedroom.  The man Lidon wanted him to be.
    Not this time.  After a few moments of resistance, Piras stopped fighting.  He rubbed up against Lidon, his arms creeping around the Nobek’s neck.  His tongue twined about Lidon’s, inviting him to delve deeper.  The Nobek’s cocks filled, growing hard.
    For a moment he seriously considered throwing Piras onto his sleeping mat and spending the shore leave fucking his brains out.  Just as Piras no doubt hoped.
    Lidon pushed away, untangling the Dramok’s grip from his neck.  He sneered, “You can reward me after my team wins the game.”
    Lidon gave Piras a moment to assert himself, to show his strength.  To force the Nobek to give him what his avid groin said he wanted.
    Instead, the Dramok’s shoulders sagged and he scowled.  “You are an ass.  Try not to get yourself dismembered.”
    The weapons commander rolled his eyes.  He stomped out of his quarters.  Piras followed him as he headed for the transport that would take him to the shuttle bay.
    “After shore leave is up, we’re going to check out those strange energy readings reported by the border defense stations.  I’ll need you at your post, worthless as you are.”
    Lidon stepped into the transport, turned, and gave Piras a formal bow.  “Yes, Captain.  Shuttle bay.”
    An instant before the door shut between him and Piras, Lidon reached out and tweaked the Dramok’s still swollen crotch.  He grinned as Piras’ growl was cut off by the closing door.
    * * * *
    Tranis whooped warm air into his lungs, squinting against the bright sunlight.  The surroundings hadn’t been so damned blinding when they started the match.  The bit of cloud cover that had kept things comfortable for sensitive Kalquorian eyesight were long gone.  Every expression on the muddy field looked ferocious simply because each man strained to see through narrowed eyes.  The spectators on the sidelines, almost everyone else who’d been granted shore leave, wore dimming goggles.
    Tranis snarled, fangs down, at the Nobek in front of him.  He wanted to make sure the other man knew it wasn’t just a light-blinded face he was making.  He cupped the rough-hided kurble ball in his swollen hand.  It was getting hard to curl his fingers around it now that they were late in the game and the poison had done its work.  Only professional players were allowed to use the lethally dosed kurble balls, but the recreational versions were plenty nasty too.
    The Nobek defender in front of him, a fighter pilot named Nemu, gave Tranis a feral grin.  “Your mouth is bleeding, Dramok.”
    On Tranis’ left, Lidon promised, “Don’t worry.  I’ll see to it yours bleeds too.”
    The two men growled at each other, and the primitive sound of it sent a thrill through Tranis.  The game had gone off wonderfully.  Nobeks had actually vied to be on Tranis and Lidon’s team.  They knew if they managed to do well with a Dramok hurler and a crippled flank defender, they would have the greatest bragging rights.
    The pair had