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Strict Rotation

By Hera
Page 1 of 1

He would never have considered it, if it had not been her suggestion. But this having a home, a base, was new to them. And established routine to her.

        She had been explaining about how she and Dorian had organised things (although she avoided using his name). The shared tasks and duties, the security procedures, the access codes.

        And then, calmly, as if it were cooking or cleaning or perimeter checks, she fixed him with those icy eyes and said, 'So what do you want to do about sex?'

        The lips of his suddenly dust dry mouth remained closed. His heart forgot to beat, and then raced to make up for missed pulses. His palms were damp.

        And it was only when Vila's slightly nervous voice asked, 'What do you mean? ' that he remembered, or perhaps realised, they were not alone, Soolin and he. She was forced to look away, and he was able to retreat behind professional detachment, where he felt safe. Safer, on his own.

        He listened as they discussed how it would, or could, work, if they decided to progress it further. If? Vila was practically drooling at the prospect. Tarrant was flustered, but offering no objections. Dayna was failing to look as disgusted as she ought to. As Avon thought she ought to.

        And for a long time now, Avon had ignored what he knew was happening. Ignored footsteps in the corridors at night. Ignored the extra laundry being done. Ignored the looks and shy smiles passing between his crew members. And hadn't been completely sure what was happening... But whatever it was, there had been no control over it. No ground rules. No control. No order.

        No emotional detachment.

        All right. If they wanted to, let them. But him?

        He was in charge. Finally. Finally becoming comfortable with it. He couldn't just... just...

        But damn it, he wanted her.

        Wanted to feel the soft blonde hair run between his fingers. Wanted to hold her close, feel her breasts press and rise against him. Wanted to kiss her hard and wet and deep, wanted...

        Just wanted.


        He had been listening keenly enough, at that meeting, to remember what to do. Even though many weeks had passed, he remembered exactly what to do.

        He left his name, and the door code he would use, on the data unit in the locker room. In theory, any of them could pick it up, but he knew, just knew, it would be Soolin.

        If you had a specialist preference, or required equipment, costumes, or whatever, you were meant to write it down.

        'I want to bury my face between your legs and suck until you scream. I want your lips on my cock, to watch myself vanish into that lucious mouth. I want to slide inside you and ride you long and hard, and I want to feel like a man again.'

        But he left the bottom of the screen blank.


        The room was at the furthest end of the base. He walked quickly through the corridors, still embarrassed about using the... service?, in the first place. He closed the door behind him, and keyed in the change of entry code.

        Soolin had picked well. It was a spacious room. Floor to ceiling cream curtains hung on two of the windowless walls. There were two large red chairs, each almost large enough to hold two people sitting very .. very, close together. The rich honey gold carpet was soft and deep.

        There was white wine in the fridge, and fresh water. And the bed...

        The bed was large, and looked so warm and inviting, with crisp white sheets and soft pillows.

        He closed his eyes and saw he and Soolin kissing each other awake.

        Idealised romantic nonsense, of course.

        Her shift did not finish for two hours yet. He planned to get into bed and fall asleep. That way, he could enjoy being caressed back to consciousness, and would welcome her to a pre-warmed bed.

        Of course, it also meant he didn't have to lie awake and face the prospect of her not appearing. He turned out the light, and was alone, in the pitch black.


        He began to awaken, as a delicate touch traced the curve of his buttocks. He made a half hearted attempt at rolling onto his back; but a less than delicate touch pushed him firmly in the opposite direction.

        All right. She can be in charge for now. If she wants.

        The idea of being at her sexual mercy, here in the still darkness, was most appealing.

        Now fingertips, just the tips, faithfully followed the path from his nape down his spine, moving so slowly the anticipation welled up inside him. A touch so light he was unsure what contact was real, and what was imagined. A firmer touch on him now, over the curves of his arse; a rubbing motion, the friction creating a delicious heat. And now her lips and teeth, taking small bites of him, hard, animal, dangerous. Somewhere between pleasure and pain.

        She gripped his hips and tugged, indicating that now he should roll over. He complied with the desires of his mistress. Her hands moved slowly over him, caressing, arousing, now cupping his balls gently, then firmly, rolling the flesh between thumb and forefinger; now stroking the backs of his thighs and enjoying his shuddering reaction.

        And now, god yes, now her mouth was on him, kissing the line where leg joined body, nipping the skin between her perfect white teeth, working her way closer and closer to his stiffening cock.

        And now she was pulling his legs apart, and her mouth was wide, her breath coming hot and fast on his balls. Avon could not stop a low moan escaping.

        Now, now her finger was poised at the entrance of his anus, and yes, he wanted that, and opened his legs wider still to show her. As she slid inside he gasped, and as she slid further in he moaned again, louder, more eagerly.

        As her whole finger moved inside him, the palm of her hand lifted his balls and pressed hard against the very root of his now solid cock. The entire hand pushed in a circle and it was so, so good. It had been so long and she was, she was..

        She was running her tongue along his cock, and she was sucking him into her mouth, and he called her name, 'Soolin', and he felt the saliva flow from her mouth, hot, wet, over him.

        Then Avon's own hand was on his cock, circling his fingers at the base, gripping tightly, until it hurt, because he had to stop himself, couldn't let this be over too soon.

        She understood, because she stopped; stopped with her mouth, and withdrew her finger.

        And silently waited.

        He wanted her pressed against him; wanted to taste her mouth, taste him on her mouth.

        'Kiss me,' he said.

        And then her soft lips were on his, her tongue plunging deeper into his mouth, so eager, so, so hot. Her hands were on his chest, gliding over the muscles, rising and reaching to hold his neck; against his belly, he could feel her cock, long and hard and...

        Every muscle in his body just...


        His partner's body, however, was still very hot, and very much in motion. A hand moved down to Avon's cock and gripped it firmly, thumb moving over the head, and Avon groaned with frustrated, disgusted desire.

        'Want me to stop?' Tarrant's voice was anxious, breathless, and he sounded so incapable of stopping it was tempting to ask him to out of sheer devilment. But that would require that Avon be capable of speech... even thought was proving a challenge.

        It wasn't worth the struggle. Avon decided just to be, not to think. He sank both hands into the mass of curls on Tarrant's head, pulled him down and pushed his tongue deep into Tarrant's mouth. Tarrant's gasp of surprise and eager legs wrapping around his own were reward enough.

        Avon tried not to think, but he couldn't avoid it. The taboo of it; the forbidden fruit. He was in bed with a man, for the first time. And he was too far gone to even care. The decadence was infinitely exciting.

        Although the flesh was smooth and warm against his own, it was firm, hard muscle, not the soft arousing breasts. The stomach was flat, not softly curving. And the hand moving so surely, so firmly on him wasn't the gentle touch of a woman, it was an experienced, certain hand, a hard grip, moving so fast now, so fast, it was, it was..


        Avon's climax was sudden, and ferocious, as he thrust into Tarrant's hand, blinding nothingness clearing his mind.

        When he stopped, falling back, Tarrant put a dim light on, and cleaned him with a hot towel. Avon neither knew nor cared when it came from.

        Tarrant didn't seem to mind that he himself had been somewhat neglected in the proceedings; he just wanted to make sure Avon was all right.

        'I'm staying,' he told Avon. 'I'm going for a shower. It's your choice if you're still here when I get back.'


        Avon was still there. For one thing, it would be impolite, and bad for crew morale, if he were to leave. For another, he was curious. And..

        He grudgingly admitted, but only to himself, that it had been a most pleasurable encounter.

        Tarrant smiled. 'I'm glad you stayed.'

        Avon moved over to make room for him under the covers. 'It's been a long time.' Not since.. well, best not to think about that. 'And I wanted to know...' He trailed off. How to phrase it. I always thought you were straight? Isn't Dayna more your type? Didn't you know I don't go for men?

        Tarrant saved him the effort. 'We drew straws for you.' Evidently there were some emotions Avon was still incapable of hiding. 'No,' he smiled. 'I won. '


        It was a tiny white lie. Tarrant was the only one who thought he had won, and the others were very grateful to him. Vila in particular thought he was Terribly Brave. Soolin had offered to trade places, but only for a fee. Quite a small fee, in actual fact, but Tarrant had pulled off the moral outrage at funding prostitution well, he thought.

        But Avon didn't need to know any of that.

        Tarrant still reasoned that if he could tame him in the bedroom, then perhaps the flight deck would follow. And besides...

        He looked at Avon, now soundly asleep. He had a very appealing, almost.. well, he probably was in that sense. The one thing Tarrant couldn't resist.

        Avon had a deliciously virginal quality.

        He smiled to himself. It was a matter of personal pride, to gain acquiescence. To have Avon writhing beneath him, begging for more. To wear him down and then wear him out.

        He checked his watch. Another ten minutes, he thought, idly handling his own burgeoning erection.

        Then, my glorious leader, you are going to be mine.



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