“Only regret is that I didn’t do this sooner,” Barak said, as Tragos tried to headbutt Tycho, who moved his head too quickly out of the way. Tycho’s fist, swift and solid as a brick, hit Tragos hard in the stomach, forcing him to try and bend double from the impact, yanking his arms painfully, knocking air from inside him.
“I should’ve come by that first night while you were still all drugged up and limber,” Barak continued, as Tragos gasped his breath back. “We should’ve all had a go. Maybe would’ve fucked some of that attitude out of you.” He grabbed her face in one large hand, trusting in Ezio to hold her tight for him. Barak forced her head one way and then another, inspecting her, letting her know he could move her however he wanted her to move and she could do nothing about it. He leaned in to whisper to her, conspiratorially, letting her feel the heat of his body against her, the heat and the power of him. “We’re all going to have a go today though,” he promised her. “If you ask me real nice, I’ll even let Tragos have you again. Though” he said, looking over at his brother, who'd managed to straighten up again, eyes blazing with impotent fury. “This time he’s going last.”