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Bound to Happen

By Willa Shakespeare
Page 1 of 1

Avon lay spread-eagled on Blake's bed. Naked. Aroused. Squirming under Blake's painstakingly detailed erotic assault. Blake was kissing Avon's thighs, kneading the muscles, and licking all *around* the area that needed attention.

"Ore!" Avon shouted.

Blake paused and looked up, several curls flopping into his eyes as he smiled. "Calling me names won't help."

"AKE! Oo as'ard, ORE!"

"Sorry, can't understand a word you're saying." Blake sat up, put a finger meditatively into his mouth, and sucked on it.

Avon whimpered.

Blake took the finger out and laughed. "All right, all right, old son. I thought you liked to take it slow."

"ot a oo.' Avon shook his head negatively.

"Blake!" Jenna's voice came over the intercom.

Blake leaned forward over Avon, and pressed the respond button set in the wall. "Yes, what is it, Jenna?"

"Could you lay your hands on Avon?" Jenna sounded exasperated.

Blake looked down at Avon and smiled."I could probably manage it. Why?"

"There's a problem in engineering. Zen says auto-repair can't find it, because of something or other Avon's done." The exasperation was sharper. "Honestly, he's always poking around where he doesn't belong."

Blake was laughing silently, letting it get no farther than his eyes and curved lips. "Um, well, he *is* talented."

"I don't care if he's a ruddy genius, I want whatever he's screwed up undone!"

Blake ran his hand through his curls. "Avon's rather tied up at the moment."

Avon rolled his eyes, but stayed silent.

"But I'll come and take a look at it. I was there when Avon was 'poking around' so I'm fairly sure where the problem is."

"If you want to do his job for him, I don't care." Jenna disconnected the link with a decisive 'click'.

"Sorry, Avon." Blake stood up, and tugged his clothes back into order. "Shouldn't take long."

"AKE, OOO! Eh ee oo!" Avon's wriggling took on a frantic aspect.

"Can't take the time. Jenna will get suspicious. Besides," Blake said, with a pat at a strategic spot, "you know you really enjoy it more when you wait."

And Blake walked out of his room, leaving Avon tied to the bed.


Avon craned his neck to the left and squinted at the wall-chronometer. Damn. Blake had been gone more than half an hour. Avon pulled against his bindings again, but it was just as useless as it had been the last fifteen times. Why, oh why, hadn't he insisted on breakaway ropes? Because that would take the risk out of it, a small internal voice answered. And the gag had added a further frission of imaginary danger, by eliminating the possibility of safe-words.

They hadn't needed them. Blake was always in control... correction, Blake had never gone beyond their agreed-upon sexual limits. He'd always watched Avon's face and known when he was getting close to the edge.

Avon had come to rely on that. Come to depend on it being safe to play with Blake, to work off some of the frustrations of following the fool by taking advantage of Blake's considerable physical attributes.

His arms and shoulders hurt, and his mouth was so dry his lips were cracking. This had gone beyond 'fun' and was simply uncomfortable. At first he had imagined Blake returning at any moment, and that had kept up his interest. For a while. He yanked sharply on the ropes, trying each in turn, but all he succeeded in doing was making himself more uncomfortable. The sheet had wrinkled beneath him, and each little crease felt like it was digging into his skin.

He looked at the clock. Thirty-two minutes. Where the hell was Blake! Was he...had he been... no, that was ridiculous. Blake was just playing some sort of stupid trick. Thirty-two minutes and fifteen seconds.



Avon was half-dozing when the door opened. He blinked, and automatically noted, 'Two hours and forty-nine minutes'. He didn't turn to look at Blake. Not yet. He had to get himself under control. If Blake saw what was in Avon's eyes now, he wouldn't dare undo the bindings.


Vila! Avon turned his head, and wished he hadn't. Vila was standing at the foot of Blake's huge bed, hand over his mouth, apparently holding back giggles by sheer force. " i-a," Avon acknowledged. "unie ee," he said with what clarity and dignity were possible.

"Eh? What's that?" Vila said, cupping a hand to one ear.

Avon's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, you want to be untied! Well, why didn't you say so." Vila came closer, grinning. "I see Blake finally roped you into his rebellion."

Avon groaned and closed his eyes briefly.

"This is knot what I expected," Vila said, smirking. "when he was talking about ac-cord among men."

Avon slitted his eyes open and wished for a brief moment of telepathy in order to tell Vila what he thought of his sense of humor. "eres ake?"

"Oh, yeah. Blake's in the med-unit... here! Don't do that, you're tightening the knots! He'll be all right," Vila went on, and Avon subsided. "Something fell on him while he was in the engine room, and he's got a mild concussion. Mind you, he's so thick-headed, I'd never expected it to be possible, but anyway, Cally's got him under treatment. He wasn't making a whole lot of sense there for a while, but he did finally tell me you were in his room, and I was to go take care of you for him." Vila's grin broadened. "Don't know what he meant by that, exactly, do you?"

" i-a, ut ee ope."

"Cut the ropes? I dunno. They look expensive, velvet. Blake won't be happy. And the gag- well, that's silk, worth a pretty penny or two. You just hang about a bit, Avon, and I'll see about getting you unknotted."

Avon groaned a protest, but Vila ignored it.

"Let's see, where shall I start?" Vila stood, hands on hips, surveying the territory.

" I-AAAA!" Avon shouted, and then began coughing.

Vila looked worried. "That doesn't sound good. All right, the gag first."

Avon closed his eyes in relief as Vila climbed onto the bed, and worked his fingers into the silk. "It's wet," Vila explained, as the knot resisted him. "Just hold on." Vila shifted until he was half-lying on top of Avon. "Um. That's not hurting you, is it?" Vila asked.

Avon shook his head. Actually, it was rather pleasant, having Vila's warm body shielding him. He'd struggled until he was sweaty, then been chilled by the climate-conditioning.

"Got it!" Vila said, pulling the gag free. He slipped forward just as it came free, and his mouth landed on Avon's. After a long moment, he pulled back. "Oops."

"Oops? That was..." Avon began coughing agagin.

Vila got up and fetched a glass of water from the lav. He held Avon's head up and carefully angled the glass so Avon could drink. After Avon signalled he'd had enough, Vila set the half-empty glass down on the bedside table and sat on the bed in the space between Avon's outstretched arm and his body.

"That was deliberate," Avon said firmly.

"It was only a little kiss," Vila said,in a self-pitying tone. "I have my needs, too, and no one on this ship cares how I suffer, not even those as sometimes act as if they're my friends." Vila gave Avon a sidelong glance.

"That's right. No one."

"Including you? You don't feel anything toward me?"

"If you discount the urge towards homicide, that is essentially correct." Avon clenched his fists. "And the longer you persist in this clumsy charade, the stronger that urge becomes."

"I suppose I could go get Cally," Vila said, judiciously. "After all, someone as clumsy as me could really do you some damage, here." He started to get up.

"Vila, this stopped being amusing a long time ago."

Vila looked at Avon again, and he sighed. "Oh, all right. I just thought we could have a bit of fun." Vila started to undo the nearest rope, the one around Avon's right wrist. "And maybe I thought you'd want to get a little of your own back at Blake. I mean, it wasn't very nice of him to go off and leave you here, all knotted up." Vila stuck his tongue out, and concentrated on loosening the rope.

"As ploys go, that's a terribly obvious one," Avon replied, but he was mildly intrigued by Vila's 'never give up' attitude and mental flexibility. He wondered just how flexible Vila was physically. No, he wasn't going to go back to his old, bad habits. One lover at at time. He reminded himself how confusing and exhausting his senior year had been, with Sean and Angie, Lloyd and Francine on a rotating schedule, each unaware of the others. Then again, Vila already knew about Blake, so it would only be half a secret to, no, no. Blake would eventually find out, and be...ah, Blake would be annoyed, and when Blake was annoyed, he was very, very good in bed.


Vila was fiddling with the rope, but not really accomplishing anything. He was watching Avon's face, and he looked hopeful.

He reads me almost as well as Blake, Avon thought, slightly surprised by the discovery. "Get me loose."

"As in, 'get me loose, *first*'?" Vila asked.

"As in, 'get me loose, NOW'."

"Oh." Vila's fingers suddenly knew exactly how to undo the bindings. In less than two minutes, the last of the velvet ropes fell away. Vila stepped back, looking uncertain, as Avon rubbed his wrists, winced, and sat up.

His face changed to a look of startled dismay.

"What?" Vila asked.

"Vila, I am in desperate need," Avon admitted, as he watched Vila's expression light up, "of the lavatory. Give me a hand, my legs are numb."

Vila helped Avon get up and the two of them stumbled into the lav, where Avon dismissed his helper and shut the door. No point in locking it against Vila. Having taken care of necessity, Avon entered the shower and tried to relax under the warm stream of water. The shower door opened and Avon turned to see Vila, smiling hopefully and holding a soft-bristled bath brush.

"How d'ya like your back scrubbed, up and down, or circles?"

"Have you ever encountered the concept of privacy?" Avon asked, turning away from Vila, which was a poor choice of discouragement tactics, as he immediately discovered when a soapy brush began tracing his spine. He braced himself against the slick wall surface as the brush pressed harder.

"Do you really want me to go?" One of Vila's hands followed the sensitized skin path of the brush and Avon stiffened, not quite able to hold back a gasp of pleasure. "Thought not," Vila said smugly. "I'm a specialist in people in your condition, you know."

"What condition?" Avon asked, still wanting to be annoyed with Vila, but finding it more difficult with each passing second.

"You're all keyed-up."

Avon groaned into his folded arms. "If you're going to follow that up with equally horrific puns on laser-probes and lock-picks, I'm leaving."

"I thought I'd follow it up with this," Vila said, pressing something warm and slick up against Avon's buttocks.

"It's too slippery."

"Well, I like it nice and easy, m'self, but I guess..."

"Idiot. The *shower* is too slippery for *that*."

"Don't you like to live dangerously? I do."

Avon turned at that, to face Vila. "I'll be sure to tell that to Blake the next time he's planning a mission."

"I said I like to *live* dangerously," Vila protested, "Not *die* dangerously." Vila looked down at himself. "Now see what you've done."

Avon looked down and grinned. "Strange, the thought of Blake's missions has the opposite effect on me."

"Especially the *undercover* missions." Vila shook his head. "But I'd never imagined you letting Blake tie you up." Seemingly absent-mindedly, his left hand dropped to his groin and he stroked himself.

Avon's grin flashed again. "It wasn't planned, the first time. You recall when the artificial grav-unit failed a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah, what a mess; Soma all over. I was right in the middle of..." Vila looked at Avon's increasingly shark-like smirk. "Oho. I see. Blake was right in the middle of *you*." As if to illustrate his words, Vila's right hand dipped down to cradle Avon's balls, fingers twiddling gently.

Avon laughed. "Which was very frustrating without gravity. But there was a perfectly good bed bolted to the floor, and various belts and other items suitable for securing..."

"Loose assets?" Vila's right hand had wandered to other, nearby tourist traps and was checking out the back door. It was always a good idea to identify all the fire exits when you were on holiday, just in case.

"Vila, if you persist in verbal buffoonery, I may be forced to chastise you." But Avon's protest was half-hearted, as his breath was coming in increasing short gasps. Vila had reverted to being an upstanding rebel, and was now utilizing both hands on his walking tour of the uncharted wilds of Avon. Avon spread his legs for better balance, and Vila discovered several new areas of scenic interest.

"Wot? You don't want me using my tongue?" Vila knelt, so excited that he hardly winced as his knees hit the hard floor. He was gripping the backs of Avon's thighs for balance, but his hands kept slipping on wet, soapy, silky Alpha skin, forcing him to reach back up a bit higher, until he could get his fingers into a convenient crevice. Avon was squirming in an erratic, erotic, rhythm as Vila leaned in and performed the maneuver that had earned him many a credit on slow thieving days and also the nickname, 'The Delta Depth-charge'.

Avon let out a yelp and started to thrust, but his feet went out from under him, and he flew forward, tumbling over Vila, to land with a 'clunk' headfirst into the wall.

"Avon!" Vila got out from under the warm, wet body that was draped very heavily on top of him. "Avon!"

Avon was out cold. "Oh, hell. Avon, wake up. Please?" Vila shook Avon, gently, and then a little harder. No result, except that Avon's fringe flopped down to cover his eyelashes, which was rather a pity. Vila felt Avon's skull, and found a swiftly rising lump on the back. Judging from past experience, that was not a good thing.

Vila sighed, got up and shut off the water. He did briefly think about turning it to ice-cold, and seeing if that would wake Avon, but Vila had never had a death-wish. "Should have known it," he grumbled to himself as he got them both out of the shower and dry. "Ol' Avon's noggin is a magnet for hard places." He put Avon on the bed, and after admiring the view, he rummaged in Avon's wardrobe in search of something a bit easier to put on an unconscious man than skin-tight black leather. He settled on a burgundy velvet robe. He couldn't find a belt for it, but the ropes were a perfect match. He hoisted Avon up, all floppy-limbed and heavy, and managed to get the robe on him and tied.

Then Vila got dressed, and sat on the bed for a few minutes, hoping that Avon would wake up. Nope.

Vila let out a huge sigh at the thought of the work involved, and arranged Mr. Floppy so Vila could get a pointy shoulder into Avon's stomach and then pull him up into a possible, if not convenient, carrying position.

"Ooof. You could stand to lose a few." Vila patted Avon on the buttocks. "Then again, I'd hate to see you lose your fall-back position."


Avon woke up in the medical unit with a sore head, a sore stomach, and a nagging feeling of incompletion. He opened his eyes, knowing he was going to regret it. He was lying partially inclined so that his first view was of Blake, who was wearing a white beehive of a bandage on his head.

Avon laughed, but it sounded hollow, and it hurt, actually. He moved his aching head slightly sideways, and looked at his own reflection in the mirrored surface of one of the medical unit machines. "Ah." He put a hand up to gingerly touch the matching bandage around his own head, then lay his head back and shut his eyes. A few minutes went by, and finally Avon couldn't stand the silent pressure of Blake's eyes on him. Even without looking, he *knew* Blake was staring at him. "All right. Go ahead," Avon said wearily.

Blake cleared his throat and said, "I *told* you the shower was too slippery."

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