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By Hera
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He wanted him so much; so much it did, actually, physically hurt. The anticipation was killing him. At the most inconvenient moments the lust would rise in him and he would have to remind himself where he was, and what he should be doing.

Blake had been away doing whatever that political thing he did was. Away for four weeks now. Twenty eight days. Twenty seven nights.

He wanted him; but he was trying so hard not to be selfish. He knew Blake would come in tired, and would have to do the debriefing. He would be worried about how things had gone, with the resistance group, and how things had been on Liberator without him. He would just want to sleep, all night, and probably most of the next day.

So you, Avon told his aching cock, will just have to wait.

Oh come on, it replied. We're in bed anyway. It bobbed and twitched hopefully against the flat of his belly. Quick one off the wrist?

No. I'm saving you for later.

Sure? Don't want to check it all still works?


It'd be awful if you'd waited all this time and we couldn't... you know. And it's not like you'll break me. I quite like a bit of rough handling.

Avon had been holding off all week. He'd promised himself a good, slow build up before getting himself comprehensively fucked beyond the point of reason.

He took himself off for a cold shower.


What had they been doing to Blake down there? On.. oh, whatever godforsaken hell hole of an outback planet it was this time. Although Blake didn't look like he'd been having a hellish time. He materialised in the teleport bay looking abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous. Edible, even. And Avon was volunteering.

Blake was slimmer, lightly tanned, and his dark curly hair had grown long. Long enough to really twine around your fingers, and flecked with bronze strands.

Avon caught Vila's look. That figures, it said. Sunshine, healthy food, and we've been stuck up here.

Poor Vila, thought Avon. He won't even get the benefit of all that smooth, sun kissed honey gold skin.

Avon made a valiant stab at appearing interested in the newest members of the revolutionary faith, despite having a pressing need for something far more missionary himself. Well, he was sort of interested. Really just in the overall outcome, though; not the blow by blow accounts Blake was prone to, of every meeting, rally, conversation. In the abstract he could see how that kind of information might be important to some of them, at some random, unspecified time in the far off future. But then bits of him (alright, one bit of him) kept focusing on Blake's open neckline, where there was just enough skin exposed to get a really good mouthful. Damn it, it was difficult enough concentrating when Blake was having a bad hair day. Why today, why now for the longest report in the history of.. well, probably history itself?

As soon as it was over (which was so far removed from 'soon' the word couldn't be said to apply at all) Avon took himself off to bed armed with sleeping pads. Damn it, he was going to wait until Blake was up to it.

Really, really up to it.


Avon woke up with his right arm draped across something very warm, very asleep and very, very desirable.

Mmmmm. Soft and fuzzy morning lust. He'd been right though, Blake was wearing pyjamas, always a sign he wanted to get a good night's rest. Just white cotton ones, too, not the navy blue satin ones that hands slid over so smoothly, just gliding over the broad chest, and up the thighs, first the outside, then...

Ahem? his cock reminded him. We've got a cosy sexy Blake here, remember? Why are we thinking about doing it when we could be doing it?

Good point, Avon agreed with himself. This was usually the point where he gave Blake a bit of a kick and then pretended to be asleep himself, so that Blake would take his time waking up, each movement of the bedclothes giving Avon a secret surreptitious thrill of anticipation. Then Blake would gently awaken Avon, stroking him, kissing him, cosseting him.

This morning, Avon was feeling ridiculously generous. He brushed his lips over Blake's eyebrow. Blake barely stirred.

Needs to sleep, thought Avon, taking himself for yet another session under the ice cold needles of water.


Just when he'd almost got matters under control, there was a knock on the shower screen. Avon slid it open a few inches, poking his head out. Blake ran his fingers through Avon's wet hair.

'In a hurry to get going?'

'I thought you'd be asleep a while yet.'

Blake grinned. Avon dialled the water warmer, opened the screen and co-erced Blake inside, partly with his hands, but mainly by beginning a deep, full throttle, tongue lashing kiss, and inching backwards, so Blake was obliged to move forward to continue it.

Water, thought Avon, really is the best thing ever. He pushed his drenched body hard against Blake's, soaking the thin cotton garments right through, then stood back.

Mmm. Where the fabric clung, it was almost transparent. His fingers easily found, then circled, the hard points of Blake's nipples, and Blake's eyes closed. He traced the line of Blake's lips with his tongue, separating them with just the very tip of it. The stream of warm water ran down Avon's face, along his tongue and into Blake's mouth. Blake swallowed, and sucked Avon's tongue in further.

Now? asked Avon's cock, poking into Blake's groin.

Soon, just hold on a little while longer.

He turned Blake around and flattened the fabric across his buttocks, which seemed leaner, higher, tighter than they had been a month ago. Almost like a new man. A new lover.

He stroked the tip of his erection gently along the crevice, moaning softly. His fingers reached around and found the buttons on the top, undid the first one so one hand could slide inside and playfully tweak at one of the hard buds. He nuzzled aside the long hair at Blake's nape and kissed the sensitive skin, as he did so, releasing the remaining buttons. Now he could slide his hands all over Blake's smooth chest, across the stomach, trace the line of each rib.

Then lower; a little further, just playing with the waistband, starting at the edges; moving further in to just about, but not quite, where Blake's cock tugged at the elastic; creeping further down, so very nearly touching where he was most wanted. Now taking the skin at Blake's neck between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth, savouring the taste of skin and water, feeling the heat of the water and the bed-warmed heat of Blake.

He slid the trousers over Blake's hips, down his thighs, calves, until the were far enough down for Blake to kick them into the corner of the shower tray.

As Blake turned around, Avon couldn't help noticing.

Fuck me. Please. All over tan.

Before he could stop himself he was on his knees, taking Blake into his mouth. God he'd missed him, the taste of him, rich and salty; the feel of him, his mouth so full, the smoothness of the skin, how it felt to run the tip of his tongue all over and around the head, along the deep blue vein. Already he could imagine it inside him, wanted it so badly...

Blake wound Avon's hair around his fingers and tugged very gently. Avon ignored it. Then a bit harder. Then very firmly indeed.

Reluctantly, Avon stood up, taking advantage of the opportunity to remove Blake's soaking shirt and admire the glistening bronzed torso.

'That was wonderful,' panted Blake, 'But I'm sure there's something else you'd like me to do with it.'

Avon looked at him from beneath rain beaded lashes.

'Let me towel, you down, Avon.'

'Then what?'

'Then I'm going to get part of you very, very wet indeed.'

Blake had to practically carry him out of the shower.


'I've bet you've been wanking yourself stupid while I've been away,' said Blake casually, one gel-covered finger teasing at Avon's anus, sliding all around the entrance but steadfastly ignoring Avon's wriggles of encouragement (which meant, 'will you just get the damned thing in')

'No,' Avon forced out from the part of his mind that was still working.

'Really, in that case, you must be,' Blake's index finger sliding in a tiny, tiny bit, 'ab-so-lute-ly,' a bit further, and Avon moaned, then in one big push right in, 'gagging for it.'

'Mmfmph,' whimpered Avon, already partially insane, wishing Blake would stop talking dirty and start being dirty, or dirtier, or just, oh god... and then the other brain cell that was paying attention was simultaneously praying that Blake would carry on being exactly as infuriating as this, if not more so.

He love-hated Blake's self control.

'Fuck, you're tight,' Blake's murmured in his ear, wriggling the digit for entirely necessary unnecessary emphasis.

Avon fixed his eyes, desperate, and attempted a whole sentence. 'I can take you. Now. Right now.'

Blake smirked.

'Please, Blake. Now.'

Blake cheerfully ignored him and dipped down to chew on Avon's earlobe, still gesturing 'c'mere' with the ensheathed finger. Avon tried to find something, anything, to do with his hands that didn't involve his cock (which, frankly, was now too over excited itself to say anything worth listening to), but he couldn't manage anything, so he left them above his head, out of harm's way.

He pushed his hips upwards as a suggestion. Blake ignored that, too, and moved round to Avon's mouth. He held the tip of Avon's tongue between his teeth and stroked the hot wet muscle with his own, then used just his lips to stroke over the length of it, forward, back, forward...

His finger had a little more room to move now, so he added a second.

'Now, what was it you wanted Avon?'

'Can't ... talk ... please...'

'I think you wanted me rammed right,' push, 'up, 'push, 'there, yes?'

Avon sort of lolled and nodded his head. It was proving difficult to talk and bite his lower lip at the same time.

And then Blake was there; Avon's legs thrown over Blake's shoulders, and Blake was pushing in, had to push in, force Avon wider, holding Avon's knees wide apart, getting in as deep as he could.

He rammed the final inch home, and Avon let out a wail, 'Blake!', finally finding a home for his hands, threading between his legs and stretching as far as he could onto Blake's hips.

Then Blake was.. was... was


Avon almost cried. 'Please!'

Not just stopping. Withdrawing.

'Just making you more comfortable.' He lowered Avon's legs, left then right, gently. 'Turn over. Sit up, on your knees.'

Avon did as he was told and.. and..

Oh, and he hadn't thought it could feel any better, but it did, it did, having Blake inside him again, having Blake's chest tight against his back, feeling Blake's heart pounding against him, one arm wrapped around him, holding him tightly, making sure he followed every move Blake made. All he needed was...

Christ, he was coming, coming into Blake's fist, coming at the first touch. He could feel Blake, too, inside him, the hot fluid filling him.

As he collapsed onto the bed, Blake on top of him, Avon mumbled into the pillow, 'I missed you.'

Blake carefully extracted himself and lay on his right side, stroking Avon's hair with his clean hand.

'Good then?'

'Mmmph. Best ever.'

Blake wrapped one warm, tanned arm around him and kissed his shoulder blade.

'No, Avon. Best yet.'

Avon was smiling as he dozed off, in the middle of a sticky wet patch he would never have imagined he would be so happy to sleep in.


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