Rating: NC-17
Pairing and Fandom: Dylan/Tyr, Andromeda
Warnings: None
Summary: A missing scene between Dylan and Tyr at
the end of Angel Dark, Demon Bright.
The sea of stars remained impassive outside the aerofilm surround of the obs deck. The silence of the void crashed in their ears as Tyr Anisazi and Captain Dylan Hunt gazed out into the endless night.
Dylan fought to conceive how it had happened. Trance had created the situation. Shamus had created the means. But, it was his final choice to light the fuse, igniting a nebula around the hapless fleet.
Hapless, he thought, The remaining third of them still managed to crush what was left of the High Guard. Destroy the Commonwealth. Tear everything out by the roots. I tell myself it was what history demanded, but, did I relish the vengeance? Just a bit?
Tyr seemed unaware of the man beside him. He had little patience for Dylan's idealism; he found it inconceivable that the man had actually carried out the attack. Even more inconceivable, Tyr had allowed it to happen. Come to it, he'd practically given Hunt permission; recalling his people's tale of the disaster of Witch Head Nebula, that moment when the Nietzschean fleet was struck down by a dark angel just as they were poised to become masters of the galaxy.
The annoying purple female and the ship's AI were both correct, of course. Disturbing the timeline would almost certainly have obliterated him from history; three hundred years of genetic selection unwound in a moment of unanticipated survival. For Tyr to live, 100,000 had to die; he felt deep shame that the act that was at least partially responsible for his existence should cause him... grief? Could it actually be grief he felt for Prides he'd never known?
There was a dull, wet thud as another tear fell from Tyr's face and struck the synthetic stone of the bench. Not sure who moved first, Tyr found himself on his side, his head in Dylan's lap. Dylan's hand ran across the cords of the other man's long braids and down over his massive shoulder. Dylan stroked the surprisingly soft, mocha skin, reminiscing a moment about his long dead executive officer. Also Nietzschean, Gaharis had been nowhere near as large as Tyr. His hand traversed the warm metal of the ringmail shirt; columns of heat flew out between the chimney-like circles of silver.
Tyr reached around Dylan's traveling arm and pulled it across his chest. Dylan responded by squeezing the Nietzschean's torso against him, brushing the wiry fuzz of his beard with the back of his hand.
After a moment of gentle symmetry, Tyr let out a low, deep growl.
"The Captain asked, "Problem?"
"I dislike being in the debt of others."
Excuse me?" Dylan knew Nietzscheans occasionally made leaps of logic he couldn't follow, although he felt much more confident analyzing their motives since their encounter with Orca Pride. He had survived only by reaching an understanding of Gaharis' actions prior to the fall.
"Sixteen generations ago, there is a... disturbance... in the genealogy of my clan. Kodiak Pride suddenly acquired several new genetic sources, including one of my direct progenitors.
"About three hundred years..."
"Precisely." The burly Nietzschean rolled onto his back, looking up at Captain Hunt. "Survivors of Witch Head. In a roundabout way, you are responsible for my existence."
Dylan dropped his gaze from the black vastness outside, down into the deep brown eyes looking up at him, more vulnerable that he had ever seen.
"That creates certain," Tyr paused, "obligations."
Dylan continued to stroke Tyr's hair. "I thought self-preservation was the highest Nietzschean concern."
"It is." He pressed the long fingers playing through his braids against the side of his head. "We're not barbarians, Dylan. Loyalty to the Pride — to the family — is paramount. To outsiders, that loyalty is difficult to understand, but it serves one end."
"Survival."
"And continuance. Of the individual and of the community." He reached up his other hand and pulled Dylan's lips down onto his. The kiss was tender. Soft and gentle, their tongues entwined. When Tyr finally released Dylan, he closed his eyes and whispered, "In the name of the Kodiak Pride, I offer myself in service to balance our debt."
"Umm, you realize you're not exactly my type?"
"And you think you are mine?"
Dylan cleared his throat, "Well, I sort of the figured..."
"Yes?"
"I thought your people treated every situation as a potential evaluation of the worthiness of their genes."
"Oversimplified, but essentially correct."
"I assumed Nietzscheans would frown upon men having sex with men."
"To the exclusion of fathering children, of course; that's a genetic flaw that threatens our survival, but recreationally who Nietzschean chooses to couple with is a matter of personal choice. Besides, no woman would choose an untested adolescent as a husband. The arts of pleasure are passed down much as the arts of combat are."
"We're getting dangerously close to too much information," Dylan commented, but his pulse jumped. He made no moved to dislodge Tyr from his lap. "So, this offer is all out of obligation?"
"I didn't say that," Tyr pulled himself to a seated position and then stood, looking out into the night. "If you believe I spoke lightly, you are very much mistaken."
"And if I say no, you'll be insulted."
"Yes, but I've ignored worse."
Dylan rose and stood beside the slightly taller man, close enough to sense the heat rushing off his body again. "And if I say yes, it won't alter the fact you'd kill me if it suited your plans and increased your chance for survival."
"Naturally."
"Just making sure." Dylan slipped his hands below the mesh of Tyr's shirt and lifted the garment over his head.
"You surprise me, Dylan."
"Good." The Captain ran his hands across the expanse of light brown flesh. Tyr's body was a mass of contradictions. Smooth yet solid. Infant-soft skin that covered solid cords of muscle. Massive but graceful. Dylan cupped swells of Tyr's pectorals in his hands and nibbled at the bulges of muscle on his shoulder.
Tyr growled softly again, the tone more aroused. He drew Dylan's hands against his nipples, urging the Captain to be more aggressive. Dylan responded by biting into Tyr's back as he pinched the rising nibs at the peaks of his pecs.
The Nietzschean's body arched. He pulled free from the grip and spun around, grappling Dylan into a fresh kiss. He pulled at the dark under-tunic shirt tucked neatly into the Captain's trousers. When the garment came free over Dylan's head, Tyr observed rhetorically, "You are a furry beast, aren't you?"
"You're always that smooth?" Dylan replied.
"Naturally," Tyr responded, reaching around the wiry man's sides and massaging and the edges of his scapula.
"Body hair is a recessive trait that serves no function in a spacefaring age. It's a needless drain of the body's resources. Kodiak Pride was one of the first clans to eliminate it from our makeup."
"Kind of odd for a group named after a furry beast."
In a resigned sigh, Tyr said, "Humans are so literal."
The men gripped the back of each other's neck and kissed again. Tyr guided Dylan back and reclined him onto the bench. He climbed on top of the Captain, his braids cascading down around his face. He unfastened Dylan's dark trousers and felt the Captain's growing arousal through the dark boxers he wore beneath. He nudged the waistband down and swallowed Dylan's erection, gliding effortlessly to the root.
Dylan sighed out in surprise and ecstasy. Sex had been the furthest thing from his mind when he entered the obs deck, but something in the moment was perfect. They both needed this.
Considering Tyr's ruthless perfectionism about everything, he probably shouldn't have been surprised that the Nietzschean was an excellent cocksucker. Dylan's eyes rolled back. Ignoring the three hundred year gap, it had been months since he'd seen his fiancee, years since he'd had any other lover. Was it a decade since he'd been with another man? It felt wonderful.
Tyr threw himself into the blowjob as he threw himself into everything. He smirked internally as Dylan's body writhed under him. The High Guard Captain was attractive enough and despite his many failings, Tyr was rapidly developing something like respect for him. Mind, he still enjoyed demonstrating his inherent superiority to the human.
As usual, the captain was about to astonish him.
Dylan rolled onto his side, drawing Tyr onto his side as well. As the Nietzschean shifted, anticipating Dylan becoming more active, the Captain withdrew from his mouth and pulled him fully onto the bench. Dylan rotated his body, stretching his legs above Tyr's head and reaching towards the mercenary's belt. Tyr paused as Dylan lowered his pants and went down on him. The Captain rolled back the former mercenary’s foreskin with his tongue and ran it along the underside of the shaft as he engulfed Tyr's perfectly formed manhood.
Tyr was unsuccessful in stifling his groan of pleasure before he swallowed Dylan's cock again.
Each man aggressively sought to remain placid in the face of the other's attentions. Tyr weakened first, thrusting at
Dylan's throat, unconsciously trying to cause the other man to gag and back away.
Dylan responded by grabbing and Tyr's cheeks and pulling him deep into his gullet.
Tyr sucked more strongly, bobbing his head up and down, trying to draw Dylan to climax.
They growled at each other, the warmth rising together through their balls. Dylan wondered briefly if he should withdraw before shooting, remembering the Nietzschean cadet long ago who had been most insistent on the point. Tyr removed the option by wrapping a powerful arm around his thigh and pulling Dylan deep into his mouth.
Dylan groaned as he came, Tyr swallowing around the head of his pulsing cock as the Nietzschean's own genetic heritage shot deep within him.
They rolled away from each other, gasping.
Dylan moved first, shifting around and kissing Tyr again. The Nietzschean responded with genuine passion. The heat of their bodies mingled in the cool air of the cavernous obs lounge.
They lay in each other's arms a moment before Tyr rose and pulled himself together. For a moment, Dylan thought he'd leave without comment, but once he was dressed, he paused. Dylan had simply closed his uniform trousers and was stretching out on the bench.
"You continue to surprise me, Dylan," Tyr commented.
"I'm glad to hear that," the Captain replied. "It was certainly... unanticipated for me too." Tyr moved close and looked down and Dylan. The Captain inquired, "Honor has been satisfied?"
"If we agree that my obligation is resolved."
"To me, certainly."
"Good." Tyr sat on the edge of the bench and drew Dylan into a kiss again. Dylan raised an eyebrow as they separated.
"That was because I wanted to." Tyr released the Captain and moved to the door. Before it opened, he turned back to face the rising figure. "What did you mean, 'to you?'"
"I don't want to complicate your life..."
"I have no patience with a obsequiousness. What did you mean?"
Dylan retrieved his shirt and tossed it over his shoulder. "Just that even if I had gone into that fight wanting to destroy the fleet, I couldn't have. At least not without..."
"Without the modification to Andromeda's systems."
"Without Mr. Harper's modifications to the systems," Dylan
clarified. Dylan's face remained completely neutral as he commented, "Just
a thought." The door opened and he moved past Tyr, walking slowly towards
his quarters. A wry smile cracked on his lips as he heard the faint roll
of a Nietzschean growl echoing through the corridor behind him.