The Provider Pt. 04

He really fucking hated getting called topside, especially at the last minute.

And even more especially when he had just gotten back to the compound and gotten a shower. He'd barely dried himself off before the comms unit had gone off, summoning him up to the Tetrarch's office. Feeling rushed or late always canted him off center and the Tetrarch herself made him paranoid.

"Lucas, you made it," the hazy voice curled around him from over his shoulder. She meant it to sound sensual but it really just sounded... creepy. "And with time before the meeting starts."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, wiping his hair back, noting the usual strong scent of perfume that clouded her. "My apologies for the delay."

She waved it off, supposedly magnanimous. Her face was passive as she stepped even with him, her glance directed out the window he had been waiting near. He chanced a look at her profile, noting once again how tanned she seemed in comparison to him, or any of the Nightrunners. It was to be expected, of course, considering their environments. Her hair was so washed blond that it seemed white in contrast to her skin tone and he flicked his glance back out the window before she could turn his way.

"I've been told one of your Matrons has died."

He nodded, half entranced by the sway of bristly trees in the distance.

Admittedly... he missed the wind. He could almost feel the breeze, smell plants and rain on it.

"Yes, Tetrarch, I just left the family's transition ceremony."

She motioned toward her office door, "Why don't you tell me about her replacement?"

He silently debated how much truth he should really share without unintentionally putting Jetta in hierarchical danger.

The Tetrarch couldn't know how much he was starting to actually like her. Not considering how duplicitous and possessive the woman could be.

It'd be the poor girl's death.

*

"And how old is she?"

The question would have been far more innocuous if the woman hadn't been pushing down on his shoulder and angling him into one of the white armless chairs in front of her desk. He knew what was coming. Wasn't anything new.

"Nineteen or twenty, I think. Small, innocuous, easily overtaken."

"Not matched yet? Unbred?" Leann asked, turning opposite him so that her hips balanced back on her desk.

Lucas swallowed as she reached out and stroked her fingers through his hair, "I took the liberty, ma'am."

"Of course you did," she said, nodding slowly. Her voice had gone syrupy, slow and overly sweet. She slid her skirt higher, shimmying it up onto her hips to bare a bald pussy, her spine flexing into an arch as she leaned onto her desk and nodded. "That'll keep her in line, won't it?"

Lucas stared at her pussy, exhaling as he leaned forward and responded quietly. "I hope so. I'd hoped it would please you."

She smiled, pulling him closer to her thighs, "You always please me, Lucas."

The double entendre definitely wasn't lost on him.

He ended up on his knees with his face buried between her thighs, supplicant to her whims and lapping at her clit with his tongue. Just the way she liked. With his eyes shut, he imagined his pale little brunette was tugging at his hair and ears instead of a topside politician who spent ludicrous amounts of money on Fade and young boys.

He closed his eyes and felt Jetta buck her hips into his mouth instead.

He knew then that he was utterly fucked.

"Is she pretty? This new Matron?"

He doubled down his efforts to distract her, groaning as though he were desperate for her cum, burying his face deeper and making her throw her head back on a moan.

It would work for a little while, anyways. Hopefully.