PROMISES by Skinhunter50

`COWARD! COWARD! COWARD!'

The words ran together, on and on through his conscious mind until it was one sound, driving him mad. He leaned forward, his head sinking onto his forearms, his hands clenching white around the old tin pennywhistle. He knew he would never play it again.  Silently, desperately, he begged, `No, shut up, shut up, shut up! Stop, Cuzo, shut up. Shut the fuck up.'

` Kluge coward!'

"No!"  This time he spoke aloud, though Brendan was parsecs away. If he was alive. God, he hoped he was alive.

`Running away again!'

"NO!" Head up now he could see his reflection in the viewport, face pale and anguished.  He raised his fist, ready to throw the pennywhistle against the mirror-image tormenting him.

"That won't be very satisfying." A deep dry tone.

Pennywhistle switching to dagger position in his hand, Harper whirled and glared at the intruder. It was Tyr, lounging against the doorway, arms folded across his muscular chest. Gesturing to the viewport with his chin, the big Nietzschean noted calmly, "Plexisteel. Wouldn't be any discernible damage. Nowhere near enough noise." Tyr strolled slowly into the room.

Harper's eyes narrowed.  In a snarl, "What do you want?"

"It's what you want, little man.  What you need."  The tone was so quiet and calm it was irritating.  Tyr stopped a half-dozen feet from where the engineer was braced against the low wall that fronted the viewport.  He raised an eyebrow.

Harper scowled. "What? Keep your freakin' ubermensch psychobabble to yourself and… and get the fuck out of my way!" He stalked straight past Tyr and out the doorway.

Tyr's voice followed him out. "Don't leave it too long, boy."

***

Harper was digging through a cargo chest, looking for new parts for the autosensors.  No one knew where he was, except maybe Rommie and she knew enough to leave him alone right now. More than some other people he could name.

Since coming on board after the trip from Earth, Harper had managed to avoid being alone with Captain Hunt. Just that one difficult conversation on the observation deck.   Harper had refused to look at the Captain for more than a second or two, so raked he was with grief and guilt over Brendan's fate and …angry, so very angry at Dylan for not coming in time as he promised. But unable to let that anger out.  Just succeeded in hiding it by not looking at the Captain.  Pushing it down, inside as he had done too often in the past.  Thing a small guy like him had to do sometimes when faced with much bigger opponents and no weapons.

`Shit,' he thought, `since when have I been thinking of Dylan as an opponent?'

His feral side growled back, `Since the fucker left you and Brendan and the others to die fighting the freakin' Nietzscheans, that's when, you jerk! Damn him, how the fuck dare he come over all calm and reasonable with you, after what he did!!! And your reply? `It's worth it even if my cousin is dead?' Kluge, kluge, kluge. Where is the Harper that made shrillers? Fought space pirates with a piece of shattered bulkhead? Damned the Magog to Hell armed only with a knife? Kluged out!'

He slammed his hand into the wall and yelped at the pain.  "Shit, shit, shit."  Maybe it was time.

***

He was nearly vibrating, finger stabbing at the door access panel, breath coming in short, harsh pants. Suddenly, the door snapped open, startling him. A frowning naked man filled the entry. Harper glared back, hands spread out ready for a fight. A tense moment, then Tyr stepped aside and he darted in.

"Do you know what time it is?" The voice was rich with sarcastic irritation.

Harper swiveled on a heel, glared again and started for the door. A big hand grabbed his far biceps, the powerful arm across his chest stopping him in place.  Much softer, deeper, Tyr murmured, "You left it too late, hmm? Or nearly."

Harper's eyes closed and he leaned into the strength of the arm, not fighting but savouring. One pale hand came up and fingers curled around an iron wrist.  His breathing slowed to normal, the vibrations in his body became less intense.  "Yeah, I nearly. I …".  His voice fell away as he was drawn back against Tyr's body, two muscular arms
wrapping him close, a warm breath flowing over his neck and ear.  With an effort of concentration, he toed his boots off.

"Ship, door closed and privacy mode."  A slide of metal into metal and the click of the lock.  "What do you need? Tell me." The tone rumbled up from deep in the muscled chest that seemed to surround Harper.

"Hard!" His teeth clenched. " I need it hard and fast!"

A ripple of reaction in that solid wall of flesh behind him, a tug pulling him in more firmly and a low growl.  The pressure around his ribs grew uncomfortable.  One splayed  hand ran down from shoulder to belly and lower to rub over the bulge in the front of his sweatpants, to cup his balls through the material and squeeze rhythmically.

"Arhhh! Now. Hard, fast. NOW!"  He thrust up into that grip.

A quick rotation until chest pressed to chest.  Tyr's hand slid over his hip and down under the waistband of  the sweatpants hanging around his hips. A finger delved down the track between his ass cheeks to the entry.

"Ah, you have prepared yourself," discovering the slick round his entrance.

"Knew you wouldn't…wouldn't… Now! Right now! I'm ready! Hard! Fast!"  He ground it out, grunting at a second thick digit slipping inside with the first, insistent pressure scissoring against the tight ring.

"Patience, little man.  Let it build."  The fingers thrust in, gliding on the slick, fast then slow, deeper in, then shallow and spreading apart, starting fire.

Tyr slid his other hand inside the sweats and pushed them off. Withdrawing his fingers from Harper, he cupped both hands around Harper's asscheeks and lifted him up. Agile legs settled quickly around Tyr's waist, arms over the impressive shoulders, hands clasping behind the thick column of his neck.  With no apparent effort, Tyr walked to the bed and dropped Harper onto its cushioned surface.  He tugged the dark t-shirt over Harper's head and tossed it onto the floor.

"On your hands and knees, boy."

Harper rose up to his knees but instead of complying, he stared up at Tyr through his lashes.  Opened his mouth and slowly drew the tip of his tongue over his upper lip. Flicked his eyes down and up again. Leaned slightly forward and ran one hand across the sculpted chest. Slid his hand up and around the back of Tyr's corded neck, pulling himself up, parting his lips further.

Breath held, Tyr angled his head down, eyes on Harper's mouth.

As Tyr overbalanced forward, Harper yanked him down and to the side with a sharp jerk, tumbling him onto his face across the bed.  In a second, the engineer straddled the narrow hips, the heels of his hands pressing down into the shoulder joint.  He leaned forward to hiss, "On YOUR knees! Your assss is mine!"

Tyr growled but his body relaxed into the mattress. Harper grinned and lessened the pressure of his hands.  Instantly, Tyr snapped his shoulders back, dislodging Harper's hold. With a roll and rotation he had Harper on his back, hands held above his spiked hair.  A feral rumble and a satisfied "Whose ass is whose now?"

A pelvic thrust from Tyr brought two hard cocks together with a slap. Harper's head went back, mouth open on a groan.  Tyr rocked a few times and then drew Harper over onto his stomach.  One hand held Harper's wrists on the mattress, forearm keeping Harper's head down, while the other raised him onto his knees, ass high.  A muscular thigh shoved between Harper's legs, forcing them apart, exposing his centre.

Harper struggled against the steel grip on his wrists, against the hard body pressing into him but all without effect.

"Do I have to tie you down, boy? I will and you will not enjoy it."

A muffled "no", Harper's face resting on the pillow where Tyr had shoved it.  When Tyr released his hands, Harper was able to turn his head and draw in fresh air.  Those insistent hands were now drawing his ass cheeks apart, thumbs sliding into his anus.  His legs were pushed farther apart, Tyr finding space to kneel between Harper's thighs.

The thumbs were slipping in and out, tugging his entry wider and wider.  Pain that had not reached pleasure yet. Impatient, he chanted, "Now, now, now."

Gasped a moment later when a hot cock replaced the thumbs, the burn, the ache in his ass spreading up his spine and slowly morphing into what he needed.  He clutched the pillow hard with both hands and gasped when Tyr slid a hand around his hip and circled Harper's cock with hot fingers.

A withdrawal and a slam in, repeated again, again, rocking him forward onto his forearms. The burn became fire through his veins, igniting everything as his prostate was hit over and over.  The grip around his penis closed and released in counter rhythm to the thrusts from behind. Faster, harder as he rolled back into the thrusts and forward into the hand. A rushing from his extremities to his centre until he could not stand it.

"Harder, harder, fuck you, harder, more!!!"

Tyr's sweat was dripping onto Harper's neck and mixing with his own, falling down to soak the pillowcase beneath his face. The pressure of Tyr's hand on his cock changed, the movements more urgent and more erratic as Tyr's thrusts into his ass sped up.  From above his head, he could hear grunts that were transmuting to growls, the pitch rising. There was more force in the thrusts now, crashing into his prostate and shoving him into the place that let him find release. A scream as he came. Two more thrusts and hot cum washed into his passage.

A heavy body slumped down on him and then rolled the two of them onto their sides.  He grayed out as he panted for air and his heart began the gradual descent to its regular beat. A sigh at the loss of tension; feeling boneless, languid; focused only on the residual reactions in his body, thought beyond him. What he wanted now, he could not say.

What he had was the feel of a large warm hand smoothing over his belly, fingers rubbing through the sticky mess, spreading it around, up to and along the lower edge of his rib cage. Where they were still joined, he could feel a softening, the pressure decreasing as Tyr's manhood deflated slowly.  A gentle withdrawal in contrast to the rough entry.  The hand kept caressing him, and finally, using the sheet edge, cleaned away the residue on his skin.

Another sigh and a deeper breath as he slid into sleep.

***

Awareness came with a low voice, "Wake up, Harper.  Shift time. Up. Now."

"All right, all right, I'm up."  A groan when he stretched. His ass was telling him very clearly how hard he had been taken last night.

He rolled over and bounced off the bed, scrabbling around for his sweatpants.  Raising one leg and slipping them over his foot, hopping to do the other leg.  A yank up and the sweats drooped around his hips.  He really needed to replace them before they slipped down at an inopportune moment. "Boots, boots, boots."  Looked under the edge of the bed but they were not there.  Suddenly he noticed that Tyr stood watching him.  "What?"

"I wonder how long before…" A long pause as the Nietzschean located a pair of brief workout shorts.

"What, how long before what?  I find my boots?  The universe recognizes me for the freakin' genius I am? I never have to ask for sex again, everyone just offers themselves? There is a cure for the common cold? Perseids get chinectomies?  MMPHTPP!"

Tyr had grabbed him and laid a hand over his mouth. "No. You admit your obsession and do something about it.  OW! You bit me, you little animal!"  He pushed Harper away and inspected where the smaller man had nipped the fleshy area below his thumb.

"Oh poor big Nietzschean got a boo-boo on his thumb? Waaa, waaa.  Suck it up.  Life's a bunch of bites and bruises and shit like that, then you die!"  Harper continued to look for his boots.

"This attempted misdirection will not work.  Why do you not admit your attraction to our peerless leader?"

"You been sniffing the interior of your boots again? No fuckin' way." But Harper's voice wobbled a bit and was not very convincing.

"You called out his name as you came. And during your sleep.  Not for the first time I might add."

"You shut the fuck up. Just shut the fuck up." Harper had found his boots and pointed one at Tyr as if it was a weapon.

"If you are afraid to approach him, I can do so on your behalf.  Negotiating mating agreements is part of the role of a Pride leader.  Though not usually for a …nonproductive union."

Somewhere inside Harper panicked.  His heart began to race and his breathing caught and stopped.  Snatching up his t-shirt, he ran for the door. A smack on the keypad opening the door and he backed out, yelling.

"Don't you…keep your hands off…just don't ever…" teeth clenched.  With a last snarled "never again, you fuckin'… ", he darted away barefoot, boots and t-shirt clutched to his chest.

Not seeing Beka, frozen at the junction of the corridor behind him.

Not seeing Tyr stepping into the corridor looking after him, shorts in hand.

Beka charged up the corridor, shoved Tyr against the wall, her blaster under his chin.  "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now!" Her eyes were cold fire, her finger firmly on the trigger.

Tyr stood very still.  His voice was quiet and clear. "He came to me."

"Wrong answer." Her lips curled.

"It's not me he's actually angry with."

"Liar!" The blaster pushed harder against Tyr's throat.

"Before you do something irrevocable, I suggest you speak to him. Privately."

Beka stared hard into Tyr's steady gaze.  She yanked him forward and slammed him against the wall hard before she let him go. "I will kill you if…"

"I understand that."

With a final glare she backed away, blaster still pointed in his direction. He stood, hands spread open away from his body though it was clear from his state of undress he was unarmed. Her eyes flicked over the glistening skin of his chest, belly and thighs, the disarray of his hair and she sneered at him.

"You reek like a Nightsider bordello. Clean up before you come on the bridge."  Slipping her blaster in her thigh holster, she walked away without another glance. "And get dressed."

Under his breath, "Little professor, you are starting to cost a lot. Make sure you keep being worth it."

Tyr  re-entered his quarters and commanded privacy mode.

***
He was in the midst of a tricky bit of welding when Beka turned up. Or rather blasted in, startling him into swinging the laserwelder over his left hand and dropping the rod he had been holding.  With a curse he yanked off his left glove.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" He tossed the scorched glove onto the floor and stuck overheated fingers into his mouth.

Beka grabbed his left hand and pulled the fingers out. "Just reddened. No burn. Won't even blister."

He jerked his hand away from her grasp. "Yeah, no thanks to you. And an hour's work fuckin' screwed up," pointing to the ruined rod assembly. "What the fuck's the matter with you, chargin' in like that?"  Then he recognized the look on her face: pissed and primed for trouble.

"What's with you, jumpier than a Terran wildcat?"

"You wouldn't know a Terran wildcat if one bit your ass!" Voice sharp and sarcastic. He was pretty pissed himself.

"Ok…ok.  Sorry. Look, is something…what did he…do I need to kill him?"  She was fingering her blaster.

Harper stared up from where he was collecting the bits of his now shattered project. "Hnn? Kill him?"  A frown of confusion wrinkled his brow. "No, no. He had no choice."

Beka's turn to be confused. "No choice?"

"Yeah, I get that. Finally get that." He straightened up and threw the parts on his worktable.

"You get that?"

"Sure. See, I thought things were different, he was different. But …just the same. Like always but all this," gesturing to the whole machine shop and beyond, "is so first class, I thought maybe this time…". He shook his head. "Sucked me in good." A sharp laugh but no smile; eyes focused on nothing. "Guess I was the sucker born in my minute. But I've got it now."

"What are you talking about? What did Tyr do?"

A frown of confusion "The big Freddy? Nothin'."  He used his new derogatory term for Nietzcheans but without his usual sarcastic smirk.

"But I saw you scooting out of his quarters, him coming after you! He hurt you, didn't he!  Forced you?  I am going to kill him!"

"You saw me…". Damn, when would people stop messing into his private life? If he fuckin' had one!  "I'm not some helpless orphaned brat who needs a protector!" Anger upped the volume. "Back off!"

She retreated a pace. "Seamus?" Voice soft and a little hurt.

He glanced away and then sighed. "Please Boss. Not now.  I need to get this done…again." He shoved the shattered parts around on the table top.

"Sorry. Sorry, I … you'll let me know if I should…"

He stared into her eyes and nodded slightly. She returned the nod and left the room.

He let out his breath and glanced up. "Rommie, close and lock doors, Machine Shop 4. Engage Privacy Protocol Harper B."

Rommie's translucent image shimmered into view. " That protocol allows only you to override it." She frowned. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. Harper B now." When she did not respond, he grimaced into begging. "Now, Rommie. Please?"

"All right. But I will be monitoring you."  Her facial statement said there would be no negotiating over the matter.

"If you must, ok."

"I must."  She looked off, as if consulting something.  The doors slid shut. "Lock up complete. Privacy Protocol Harper B engaged." She winked out.

Harper sagged back against the table.

***
Beka was sipping coffee in the officers' mess, lost in thought.  She did however, notice Dylan enter.

"Beka, have you seen Harper?"

"Yes."  Another sip of coffee, hoping he would go away.

A frown of irritation.  "And that would be where?"

"Machine Shop 4.  Doesn't Rommie know that?"

"Hmm, I suppose.  Ah.  How was he?"

"How?"

"Yes, what was his mood?  Irritated.  Standoffish.  Cheerful manic? Mood."

She snickered. "Cheerful manic, that's good. Got to remember that."

"So he is back to normal. For Harper."  Dylan looked relieved.

"No."

"But you said…"

"That I like the statement `cheerful manic'.  Actually, I would stay away from him just now."

He frowned. "Hmm. Well, can you tell me what's up with him? Why he's been so irritable this last week or so?"

Beka stared at him as if he were crazy. "Isn't that obvious?"

"You are thinking of the Earth business." He looked unhappy.  "He seemed all right when I spoke with him after he and Rommie got back.  Not happy but not this snappish irritable stranger who avoids …us."

Beka thought `He's not avoiding me. Specifically.' But she forbear to mention that to Dylan.  She really wanted Harper and Dylan to sort this out but she also needed to watch how she got involved.  Above all, she had to protect her friendship with Seamus.  So she remained silent hoping he would find the right track by himself without her having to hint.

Dylan waited for a reply and when none was forthcoming, tugged on his lower lip with his teeth and sighed. "I could use Rommie to help me track him down." No comment by Beka. "Or order him to come and see me." Bland statement on her face. "Or bait a trap."  She tilted her head down and forward slightly, eyes looking at him intensely. "Any idea of the bait?"

Yes! He had picked up her not so subtle encouragement.  "Sparky cola?" She smirked.

"Got his own supply. Though I'm damned if I know where he gets it." He frowned again, his eyes begging her to help.

An inward sigh and she gave in. "You know how he is about new technology."  That was more than a hint but she was getting twitchy the longer the conversation went on.

A long, slow nod, a smile to her and he left.

"At freakin' last." Beka sipped her coffee again but grimaced at how cold it had become.

***

"Harper. HARPER!" Rommie's holograph appeared right in front of the engineer. When he noticed her and turned down the welder, she continued. "The Captain has called a meeting in thirty minutes. Officers Conference Room A."

Harper pushed up his welding goggles. "Now? I'm busy."

"You will want to be there."

"Why?  The Last of the High Guard going to give me an award for being the shortest engineer in the Commonwealth?" With a snort of derision, he reached up to pull his goggles down.

"No.  He mentioned something about some new technology being offered by the Perseids."

Harper snapped his head up. "What?  Ah…in Officers Conference Room A?"

"In thirty minutes."

"Right." With a grin. "Then I have time to finish this." With a flourish, he yanked his goggles down and ramped up the energy flow to the welder, its high pitched whine filling the room.

Rommie studied him, a concerned frown creasing her brow, and then winked away.

***

Approximately thirty five minutes later, Harper strolled into Officers Conference Room A, ready with a smart remark but no one was seated at the table.  Puzzled, he took four or five steps. "Rommie, Officers Conference Room A?"

The door slid shut behind him. "You're in the right place."

Harper whirled.   Dylan Hunt was moving from the door control panel toward him.

"Where are the others?" but Harper already suspected the answer.

"This meeting's just for you and me. I need to talk with you."

"No new Perseid technology, is there? You had Rommie lie to me.  You freakin' corrupting bastard!"

"She didn't lie. The Perseids have contacted us about some new theoretical constructs they want us to produce in prototype.  We'll be meeting them soon."

Harper shook his head. "Why the games then?"

"You've been avoiding me."

"I've been doing my job. Isn't that what I'm here for?"

"You've been withdrawn and irritable. With everyone. What is wrong?"

Harper snorted with disbelief.  "Where you been? I am not some stupid mudfoot you can jerk around.  Fuck this!"  He started for the door but before he reached it, Dylan grabbed him and tugged him around.

"Stop it, Harper! I just want to talk."

Using the momentum of turning, Harper swung a clenched fist at Dylan's head. The Captain dodged the fist but missed seeing the kick that smashed into his right ankle.

"Shit!"

With a suddenness that shocked Harper and took his breath, the Captain had him against the bulkhead, hands forced above his head, torso and legs trapped tight by Hunt's powerful body. Harper couldn't move though he tried, couldn't get away or strike back.

He realized that asking or demanding to be let go would be useless but being held like this roused his fury and in the only way possible, let loose the anger that had been eating at him since the fiasco on Earth.  Eyes sparking, voice rough, he snarled straight into the face above him.

"You'll have to TURN ME AROUND to FUCK ME OVER like you did Brendan and everyone on EARTH!"

Suddenly, Dylan tightened his grip on Harper's wrists to a painful level, his face distorted with rage. Then abruptly, he released Harper and strode across the room to stare out the window.

Harper stared, unable to believe the statement that had been on Dylan's face. On someone else, that statement would have been followed by a punch.  A hard punch.  Harper was shocked by the inconceivable rage that he had just seen. Dylan had never threatened him, not since their first meeting months and months ago. That time, the Captain was defending his ship but all cool and collected.  Certainly not with fury in his eyes.

Harper knew he had stepped well over the line with that fucking taunt.  The shock of Dylan's reaction washed the immediate fury from Harper and he wished he could take back the taunt.

Voice wary, "Dylan?"

"Leave, Mr. Harper." The tone was flat, expressionless.

Harper took a couple of steps in Hunt's direction, though his body was in flight/fight alert.  "Look, about that, I need to…"

Dylan turned and fixed him with a baleful glare. "Out. Now."

Harper's own temper flared again. He was tired of not being listened to. "What am I, on a freakin' elastic cord? Come, Harper. Go, Harper. Talk.  Shut up. Make your fuckin' mind up!" He was within an arm's reach of the Captain. "What do you want from me?"

Dylan grabbed him, slamming bodies close, "This," and crushed his lips over Harper's mouth.

When his brain stopped reeling, all Harper could think coherently was `hot, he is so freakin' hot!' and then `his tongue is down my throat!'  The flight mode clicked in. A desperate push against that broad muscular chest and he was staggering in a sudden release from Dylan's embrace.

Gasping for air, eyes wide and wildly staring at the man who stared back, chest heaving. "What? What? No, no, no, you…" He felt his skin flush all over.

Dylan raised a shaking hand toward Harper's face.  The engineer drew back. He could not deal with this now, whatever `this' was.  Another step back, a fast glance to locate the door, and a mumbled "Look, I get it, ok? You got your priority, the new Commonwealth. Important, yeah?  So, other things, other problems, they don't count…so much."

"Harper, no, that's not…"

Harper continued to back up. "Yes, it is. That's it. Just thought…I as wrong, ok…but now I get it.  That " a half wave between their bodies, " was…wasn't .. you didn't have to …"

Dylan protested. "It wasn't about that!"

Slapping the door release, "Sure, ok, whatever.  So, we're square, eh? Gotta go.  Rommie needs me to…" He didn't finish the sentence. With a flick of eyes, he darted away into the corridor.

***

Left in the conference room, Dylan's shoulders slumped. "Oh, Harper."

He sat down at the conference table and bowed his head. Would he never handle this brilliant mercurial eccentric correctly?  How like a feral cat Harper was: small, quick, street smart, never quite gentled, edgy, wary even after months of living in the civilized surroundings of Andromeda.  And now this…  Harper might think they were `square' but Dylan knew this latest encounter had simply made things more complicated.

"Damn, damn, damn."  He rested his head on his palm, elbow propped on the table top.

Rommie's holograph appeared before him. "Captain Hunt, what did you do to Harper?"

"Me, what did I do? Why not ask what he did to me?"

"You are not hunched down, rocking and mumbling to yourself in an access tunnel."

Dylan's eyes closed. "Shit, shit, shit. Where, Rommie, where is he?"

"Access tunnel 12 B, outside secondary engineering.  About 10 meters in."

"Thanks."  He was so tired but this had to be dealt with now.

***

Squatting down, head half stuck in an open panel, Harper sang every line he knew to `Bad Boys of Mars', starting again when he got as far as he remembered.

"We are the bad boys of Mars,
the mad, rad, bad boys of Mars,
the freakin' red planet bastards, us.
Stay away, back down, back away
`less you want to lose, ain't no game,
yeah, you lose, freakin' lose, lose all you got."

He hated the way his voice broke on the end of lines.  `Damn.'

He grabbed the serial regenerator from his tool belt and applied it to the malfunctioning junction.  A brief blast of energy and the junction hummed with life.  A quick pass with the function scanner and he hummpted with satisfaction.  That one done.  Only one more to go.

Securing the panel cover, he scooted along on his knees to the last panel in a row of five he had been checking.  A second to undo it, another to scan for problems.  Yeah, there. He picked up the regenerator again but leaned away, arm over his face, when the sub-unit sparked. A murmured , "Easy, baby, Seamus has got you. Going to fix this so good. Wish I was made like you.  So clean and beautiful and perfect.  There," as he turned off the regenerator and snapped the cover closed, "done and done. Ready to rock and roll."

He slid backward on his knee pads and at the opening, a quick shove off shot him out of the tunnel.  His right hand grasped an upright strut of an interdeck ladder and he swung round, feet clearing the decking by a dozen inches, landing on the second rung.  A voice from the side startled him.

"How do you do that? Without looking, I mean."   It was Dylan, smiling a little as he stood just inside the service area.

Slowly, Harper stepped down until his feet touched the deck. He stood facing the Captain, his eyes wide, hand white-knuckled around the ladder strut.  They stared at each other until Harper shook his head.   Without a word, he turned and leapt up into the access tunnel.

"No, wait, Harper! Please stay."  The voice rough and urgent.

Without looking back, "Why? What for?"

Quieter voice, "I need to apologize. Please. Please don't go."

"So?" his tone hard.

"I should not have… you aren't…it won't happen again."  Neither of them needed to specify what `it' was.

Harper rotated in place, his heart pounding, "Won't…you've decided, have you? So why did you do it in the first place?"

"Does that matter? I promise not to…"

A sharp sweep of a hand.  "Another promise. Tell me why!" Leaning forward, one hand grasping the bar above the tunnel entrance, eyes demanding.

Dylan turned away and took a breath.  A long silence until, "Because I care for you."

`What?'  "Care?" This was too weird for Harper to believe.  `Shit, it's another game! Another jerk the mudfoot around game.' He wasn't going to play.  "Not lust after? Want to fuck?" The last word cracked harshly.

Dylan blinked. "I do want you …but more. More than that."  His voice was quiet.

"What? The mighty last hope of the Commonwealth wants to fuck a… a… a…stunted mudfoot nobody kluge? Don't make me laugh."

"I'm not laughing." Dylan's face was stiff, his lips in a hard line.

`Damn.' Harper was taken aback. "You mean it?" His surprise slipped in to his voice.

A nod in reply but the stiffness did not abate.

"Why now?" He was afraid to hear the answer he expected but was unable to resist the asking.

"Not just now. Been …well… a while." Reluctantly, eyes averting and coming back.

"A while?" This was not what he thought to have heard.

Another nod.

"What's a while?" The question was framed as gently and calmly as he could.

A vague wave of a hand, encompassing an unexpressed period of time. "A while."

Harper realized he was not going to get more just now. "So, you care for me, want me, have for a while."

"Yes."  Firm but braced for rejection.  Those odd almond arched eyes looked not at Harper but just over his left shoulder.

Somewhere inside a feeling like a huge fountain of joy erupted. Harper stood up on the lip of the tunnel entrance and launched himself at Dylan. Landed, legs going around Hunt's waist, arms grabbing at shoulders to steady his hold.  "No foolin'?"

Dylan staggered back, startled but laughing, his arms about Harper's buttocks, supporting him, hugging him closer.  "Absolutely not!!"  There was an echoing joy in Dylan that lit up his pale blue eyes.

They grinned at each other, the tension of the last hours fallen away.  Harper bounced a little, causing them to totter to the side. He reached out one hand, caught the ladder strut and swung them around until Dylan's back was to the access tunnel.  A shove off and a hand pulled Dylan's head toward Harper's shoulder as Dylan knees caught on the lip of the access entry and he sat with a thump in the tunnel.  Harper's weight took Hunt onto his back. In a second, Harper was kneeling over Hunt's body, balanced forward with hands either side of that long head.

"OFFFTT." Huffing as he got his breath back, "You crazy, wild, wild man!"

"Wild? Been too long for you, Vanilla Boy, if you think that's wild!"  Harper's voice was low and teasing.

His gaze grew hot as he focused on Dylan's tempting lips. Slowly, he lowered his head, eyes flicking between Dylan's eyes and that most fascinating mouth. Slowly, to give Dylan time to stop this…this whatever.  Harper's heart sped up when Dylan's tongue slipped out and slicked his bottom lip.  That was it.

Their mouths came together as if they had kissed a thousand times.  A familiar, passionate joining.   They pressed close, Dylan raising a little, Harper relaxing his arms so that he came down, chest to chest.  The warmth and solidness of the body beneath him was wonderful.  Then there was the taste of Dylan's mouth: so right, oddly right and he lost himself in savouring until his need for air drew him back.

A gasped, heartfelt  "Oh fuck, it has been too long for me!"

A high-pitched laugh and he dove in for more feasting on Dylan, his throat this time, pushing at the neck of his uniform sweater to get to the sweet spot where his chest came up to the base of his throat.  Then, distracted entirely from that quest by the need to touch the heat he could feel pouring up through the Captain's clothes.

One hand struggled to insinuate itself under the snug waistband of Dylan's trousers, tugged, burrowed until at last, skin!

Hot smooth skin. Hot and moist. His to explore. Oh yes. But Dylan got an iron grip on his wrist, dragging it upward.

"No!", the Captain grated out on a ragged breath.

Harper froze, stared, mouth open, panting as he frantically tried to guess what he had done wrong.  He tried to get free of Dylan's grip, to find that skin again or to retreat, he did not know which, but Dylan's fingers tightened around the bones of his wrist.

Very firmly, "No!"

Harper frowned and began to pull away.

More softly, "No.  Not here."

Harper took a deep breath,  the tension in his body easing.  He dropped down again and twitched his hips against Dylan, watching the Captain gasp. A smirk and he snuggled his face into Dylan's throat.  With another twitch of his hips, cock finding cock, "Why not?"

Dylan arched up with a loud groan, "Oh sweet lords of Vedra!"  A long, rough moan as Harper continued his assault and then, "Not…oh gods…not, not here. Someone will come!"

Harper laughed evilly.  "Yeah, part of the fun. Who might it be?" punctuating each word with a thrust, "Beka? Tyr? Trance? Rev? Oh, Rommie? Think she might be jealous?"

"Jealous? Of whom?…. oh, save me, oh, oh!!" Dylan managed.

The idea excited Harper and he began a rapid-fire monologue, breathing shallowly, eyes challenging. "YES! Wouldn't that be… dangerous…wondering if Rommie might see us.  How she would react.  If she would say anything. Stay and watch or run away …and tell the others!"

"You are crazy!"  Dylan wrapped his arms around Harper's body tightly and stood up.

"Whoa!?!" His arms grabbed at Dylan's shoulders and his legs clamped about Dylan's hips as the Captain started forward. "Where you goin'?"

"WE are going somewhere private.  Behind a locked door. Where I can have my wicked way with you." The tone was deep and quiet, Dylan in his warrior mode.

"Captain Kinkless?!" Harper scoffed.

A dark intense look from Dylan. "Don't be so sure."  Then more lightly. "With a bed. I am not making love on cold hard decking.  Again."

Regaining his breath, Harper thought for a moment. "But we have never…oh.  Oh. Again, eh?"

"I was …younger."  Dylan's eyes got a far away look.

"Got to hear about that." Then he blinked. "Make love?"

"Yes, what were you expect…" Dylan's voice fell away and he stopped walking.  The statement on his face smoothed into blandness. "Wrong word. You don't want…"

Harper patted Dylan's shoulder.  "Yes, I want to…to make love. With you.  I just didn't know that was… you know, what you…".  Suddenly he could not look Dylan in the eye.

From under his lashes, Harper saw Dylan's face crinkled in a wide smile and the Captain started down the corridor once more. "Good.  Yours or mine?"

"Mine. Closer.  But put me down."

"Why? You're not too heavy."

"You know, in case someone comes along.  Sees us."  He wiggled a bit, to encourage Dylan to let him get down but the Captain only hitched him up and gripped him more firmly. "Dylan!"

"So what?" And with that bland face on and balancing Harper with forearms under his thighs, Dylan squeezed Harper's ass cheeks.  Several times.

A startled yelp from Harper that turned into a laugh. "Oh, Captain Kink!"

Progress toward his quarters was slow but he did not care. His mouth was pressed to Dylan's lips, tongue demanding and gaining entry.  The taste of Dylan's mouth was distracting, as were the rhythmic gripping of those fingers on his buttocks.  When he finally needed to breathe again, he pulled his mouth away and took a shaky breath.  They had reached the junction near his quarters.

"Left, go left here." He extended a hand as if directing traffic.

"Do you think I don't know my own ship?"

"No, I think you might be a bit…stunned."

"Stunned? Stunned? By?"

A sunny, smug grin. "Me." A glance around. "By the way, this is my doorway."  He reached out and palmed the door release.  A quick slide of metal into metal and they were in.

Dylan paused. "You've been tidying up, Mr. Harper. My compliments." A certain sarcasm coloured the tone.

Harper wriggled out of Dylan's arms and stood cocky rooster before his Captain.  "Just doing all a good High Guard officer can.  Oh! Wait! I'm not High Guard!" His eyes narrowed. " My crib, my choice how it looks! Rommie sent in a `bot, almost gave me a heart attack when I saw this…this." His hand waved around the room. "She and me have agreed.  My personal space … off limits to her…cleaning binges. Or anyone else's comments. Got that?"

Dylan raised his hands in surrender. "Of course. I just…"

His annoyance evapourated as quickly as it had come. "The Captain showed up.  He can leave, you," one finger in Dylan's chest, "stay.  But you are wearing way too many clothes. Time to get seriously naked!"

After a moment of blinking in apparent confusion, Dylan inquired, his lips barely kept in a straight line, "Seriously naked?"

Harper had toed off his boots and was leaning against the bulkhead pulling off his socks.  One a dirty red and the other a screaming lime yellow.   He glanced up. "Ok, ok, you seriously naked, me humorously naked."  He straightened up, tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.  In a moment his black work pants with the knee pads joined the shirt. There was no underwear.

When he looked up, Dylan's eyes were wide, mouth stopped in whatever he had been going to say. Harper aimed a kick at his clothes to get them away from the doorway.  "What? Told you – humorous."  Harper could feel a blush heating his face.

Dylan shook his head slowly at Harper. "No, no, not humorous at all. You've been hiding in those baggy pants and loose shirts. I would never've guessed."  Dylan stepped closer and ran one hand across the swell of muscle that defined Harper's upper arms, shoulders and chest.

The caress sent a shiver down Harper's spine and his eyes closed.  "Ah, ah.  You, you…" He reached out and fisted a handful of Dylan's sweater.  Tugged it. "Off. Off."

A grin from Dylan that Harper did not see.  In a moment the sweater was off, left to droop from Harper's fingers.  His eyes opened at the weight of it dragging his hand down.  A sharp inhalation, `oh' and he stared dumbly at expanse of bare chest before him.  He blinked and the sweater slipped from his grasp.  A barely audible second `oh' and he blinked again.  His eyes rose to the face of a bemused Captain.

Softly, he ordered "more."  That is, he tried to order but the word came out as a whisper.

Dylan's smile melted into his eyes and he lifted up his hands to cup Harper's face gently.  Thumbs ran over Harper's cheek bones and brushed into the spiky blond tufts above his ears.  A warm mouth settled over Harper's lips and brushed back and forth.  Back and forth.

Then Dylan raised his head, stepped away and eyes on Harper's face, bent and removed his boots.  Undid his trousers.  Harper's breath was coming shallow and noisy as more and more of Dylan was revealed. A quick shove and Dylan stepped out of his trousers and briefs in one move.

Harper inhaled sharply. Naked.  Gloriously naked.   And Dylan was staring at him very intensely.

Dylan's eyes flowed down the Terran's nude body and back up. Down again to stop at his loins. A visual caress that had Harper's pulse pounding.  No innocent, Harper still reddened at the frankness of that gaze. He curled his fingers into his palms, fighting the desire to cover his genitals.

They stood still, staring at each other, faces and bodies, for some minutes until Dylan startled Harper by pacing forward suddenly.  Instinctively, Harper backed a step.  With a feral grin, Hunt came on again and in a few seconds, had Harper across the room, staggering slightly as his legs thumped into the corner of his bed.

He risked a glance over his shoulder but Dylan took that moment to tumble him onto his back across the bed and kneel, one knee between Harper's splayed thighs, one near the outer curve of his left hip.  His arms were drawn over his head and held in a firm but not over tight grip by one of Dylan's broad hands.  The heat of the Vedran's body branded into him as Dylan leaned down and took his mouth.

Took his mouth and gave tongue.  Hot, slick, insistent tongue that was shoving into the corners of Harper's mouth, striving for the upper part of his throat.  Wrestling with his tongue. Rasping over his teeth.  Taken.  His mouth was taken and he didn't care.  Wrong. He did care: he reveled in this possession, this forceful invasion. Wanted more and elsewhere on his body. In his body.  Fuck. Oh yeah that was the word. Fuck.

Harper came up off the bed when Dylan thrust into his groin.  Shit, the man must have read his thoughts.  Though not the exact locus of his desire.  He threw back his head and sucked in air.  When he had enough to exhale, he moaned out, "in me, in me, in me".

Dylan paused in mid-thrust, as if the meaning of Harper's plea hit home.  He stared down, mouth open, breathing as noisily as Harper.   A long stare, a questioning tilt of that long head and Harper nodded, getting frantic with need.  Dylan blinked, took a deep breath and asked, voice barely understandable, "Slick?"

Harper's consciousness scrabbled for sense.  `Slick'.  Ah.  "Shelf, there." He inclined his head to the left, his hands still trapped above his head.

Dylan glanced where Harper motioned.  One long arm snaked across the bed and snagged a garish orange tube.  One-handed, using his mouth to hold the tube still, he got the cap off.  Squeezed a sizable blob onto Harper's chest.

"AWWWW.  Cold!"

An unrepentant grin as reply.

Several spatulate fingers scooped up some of the slick and curled into the palm of that broad hand, cupping the slippery gel protectively.  The hand reached between Harper's legs and an elbow nudged one leg to rise up and over Dylan's shoulder.  The fingers found Harper's entry and rubbed slick all around the puckered hole.  One finger prodded and pushed inward until it slipped in up to the knuckle. Rotated, slid in and out, as deeply as possible.

Harper was moaning softly, the sensations rolling from his anus up his spine.  But he needed much more.  He wiggled his ass around trying to encourage stronger thrusts but his position, half lifted off the bed on one side, made for poor leverage.  His moan turned in succession needful, begging, demanding.

The response was the withdrawal of the finger.

"Nooooo."

A soft shushing and two fingers entered, the strain on his sphincter now a burning pain.  Back and forth, in, in, in, in. Round and round, in, out, in, out.  The pain was changing, changing into hard pleasure.

Another withdrawal and Dylan drew his hips up onto a pillow, Hunt's face so intent, so purposeful.  Dylan noticed him looking and stared down at him, eyes all black flame. Leaned forward and then something larger and hotter pushed against his anus.  An impossible pressure as the slick bulk wedged its way in, seemed like a millemetre at a time. Harper closed his eyes.  It was taking too long so he threw himself upward, slamming the full length of the invader into his passage. A sharp cry at the sudden overstretching of the muscled gate and he held himself still.

A soft groaning from above him and he remembered there was someone else involved.

They both lay unmoving, adjusting to the aching sensations Harper's impulsive move had caused. He could feel Dylan's panting breath puffing against his upraised leg, flowing like warm water. His own breathing was straining from the weight of Dylan's body over him, from his own thigh pressing into his chest.  His cock was hard and hot under the mass of Dylan's chest and throbbed against his stomach.  He needed to move toward conclusion, to give him the passionate release he craved, to let him feel Dylan's release deep inside.  They needed to finish what they
had started.

Gathering his wits and his breath, he demanded, "MOVE! Give it to me!  Now!"

It was as if he had ignited Dylan.  A flurry of thrusts began that pumped hard into him,  accompanied by harsh grunts. Over and over, until all he could hear was that sound, all he could feel was the slide and slap of Dylan's flesh into his flesh.  His teeth gritted, his muscles tightened, he stopped breathing as that dreadful, destroying, wonderful tension filled him, from toes to spiky top, before everything he was rushed to the places he and Dylan were joined and exploded.

***
Dylan lay watching Harper sleep.

The face that in wakefulness was too alert and too mutable to be studied quietly like this was open to inventory now.  Skin smooth, space pale, more healthy than when they had first met.  Lips, held thin in the tension of awareness, were fuller, still red and puffy from a long evening of loving.   Eyebrows curving gently at rest over shuttered eyes, not arched or clenched or quirky in concert with that agile mind. Eyes hidden but moving beneath their lids in dreaming.  Hair pale blond tops, darker underneath, standing up or at odd angles, cut short above nape of his neck.

He frowned when he noticed a scar on the left side of Harper's neck. Something he had not seen before but then he had not been able to look this closely before.  A funny tension in his stomach.  He was not sure whether he wanted to know the story of that scar.  A deep frown and one finger very lightly tracing the jagged line to where it disappeared into Harper's spiky hair.

A sleep roughed voice. "Stop it."

Dylan's finger froze just as it entered the mass of silky hairs at the base of Harper's skull. Slitted eyes were watching him.

"You're brooding on me. Don't."  Eyes half open now.

"No, I'm…" a shifting of shoulders, "I suppose I am."

"Not allowed."  Those blue eyes usually so lively were muted with languor as they peered at him but they were still devastating. "I don't like to be brooded on…about.  So quit it."

"I'll try. I just wondered…" his fingers moving again along the scar.

"No."  Harper's lips pursed in what Dylan was beginning to recognize as his engineer's obdurate mode: there would be no explanation.  The eyes spoke, however, something of darker times. Harper was right not to tell him.

He nodded his understanding. "All right. But you have to let me…"

Two bed-warmed fingers stopped his words. "No."

He drew the fingers away and nestled them in his palm. "I have to explain…apologize."

"No. I got it before, ok?"  A bit of irritation.

"I wish I could say that it was the Captain who did not keep his promise and did not apologize.  Let Dylan," a hand over his own chest, "say how sorry, how much he…I wanted to come in time. I hated the Captain's decision to finish with the Elsbeth's war before heading to Earth. But I…".  He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them with an effort. "Sorry. That's all an evasion, an escape from responsibility."

Harper was listening intently.

A deep breath. "I just need you to know this about me…the way I compartmentalize sometimes.  To keep some part of me …separate from what I have to do as Captain. Does that sound as schizophrenic as it seems right now?"

A slight shake of Harper's head.

"But I need you to know this too.  Every bit of Dylan was with you all but the Captain…" His throat closed.

A gentle hand caressed the side of his face.  "We all have…sides. I am happy Dylan is here with me now."  Whispering, eyes searching the room, "Does the Captain know where we are?"

"He is off somewhere, considering which world to invite into the Commonwealth next. I don't think he will bother us."

"Good. Captain's ok but I do prefer you."

"It's…I'm…"

"We're good, ok?" A serious look and a small twitch of his chin. " For now. Talk more later about …things."

A small sigh escaped from deep inside. "Yes."  Dylan sank onto his back, more relaxed than he had been in a long time.

Harper snuggled onto Dylan's chest, one hand clutching Dylan's right wrist proprietarily.

Finis.
 

Back to Fanfic