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By Riley Cannon
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My resolve to confront Avon grew less certain the closer I got to his quarters.  After all, did I really need to have it spelled out to my face, when the situation was perfectly obvious?  Blake had survived, had forgiven, and had only to crook his finger for Avon to come running.  For all I knew, they had been together ever since Blake's release from medical over a week ago. I had no right to feel put out about that; Avon and I hadn't exchanged vows of undying devotion.  And, well, there had been Zeeona, and that dalliance with Servalan.


Maybe it was that this bruised my ego; that I thought Avon should have been so over­whelmed by me that no one else would ever do.  That seemed awfully juvenile, though.  Nor did it begin to explain why I was so reluctant to hear Avon tell me that it was over between us, that we really hadn't meant anything to each other.  Just a series of one-night stands.


They hadn't felt empty at the time.  I could have sworn there were times when we really connected, in every sense.  Times we'd understood each other... cared about each other.  Hard to believe it had all been just in my imagination - or all so one-sided.


Well, I'd got this far, might as well see it through to the - no doubt - bitter end.  Raising my hand to knock on the door, I was surprised when it opened in apparent anticipation to reveal Roj Blake standing there.


"What are you doing here?" we each demanded, then traded wry smiles.


It would be nice to think Blake was jealous of me, but that didn't seem too likely.  "There was something I wanted to speak with Avon about, but it can wait."  Indefinitely, since it was pretty clear Avon had made his choice.


"Looks like we're in the same boat then," Blake said.  "I've been waiting for him, but..."  He shrugged as if to say:  You know Avon.


There was an awkward moment that I broke by saying, "Well, I'll leave you to your waiting then."  Starting to turn away, I was stopped by Blake's hand on my shoulder.


"Actually," he said, "maybe you could help."  And not giving me much chance to disagree, he drew me on into the room.


With the door shutting behind us, I said, "Help you how?"  For some reason Blake was coming off as unsure of himself, and that gave me a mild surge of encouragement.  Maybe Blake didn't quite have Avon wrapped around his finger then?


Sprawling comfortably in a chair, Blake said, "To understand why Avon's been avoiding me."


"Has he?"  This did sound promising, and I went to sit on the bed, as though I had every right to be there.  "I thought you had things straightened out."


"We have, but it doesn't seem to have made much of a difference.  We've arrived at a cordial understanding of what went wrong, but..."  He shrugged again.  "We're not finding any common ground between us."


"Did you ever?"  Oh, I knew they had been lovers, but had always doubted the depth of their involvement.  If the bonds had been that strong, why had Blake gone away-— stayed away so long?


Blake's smile was wistful as he said, "Oh, yes, Tarrant, we did.  There were times when we understood each other so well... it could be a little scary."  He sighed.  "I had some romantic notion we could pick up where we left off, that it could be better this time."  His smile turned rueful, and I felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy.  Maybe we had more in common that I'd thought, because the truth of it was that things were changed between me and Avon too.  We hadn't been in synch since Virn, and my romantic fancies were probably as baseless as Blake's.


"We're a pair, aren't we?" I said, getting a quirked eyebrow in response.  "Both of us chasing the unattainable."


Comprehension dawned in Blake's eyes.  "You and...?"  He grinned suddenly, very engagingly.  "Do you think it's the curls that turn him on?"


Actually I'd wondered about that myself and joined Blake in his laughter, relaxing back against the pillows.  Catching my breath, I looked up at Blake, intrigued by a sudden idea.  "It would serve him right, wouldn't it"-— I gave Blake my best smile-— "if we found solace in each other's arms."  Put like that it sounded ridiculous... and yet it wasn't completely unappealing.  In fact, as I returned Blake's speculative look, it didn't seem absurd at all.  Blake was certainly an attractive man, very different from Avon-— but variety's nice.


And Blake looked like he found me a tempting prospect, but, "We couldn't, not here."


"Why not?"  I was already unfastening my tunic.


Watching, Blake said, "Avon could walk in any minute."


"Screw him."  My tunic was on the floor.


He smiled, finally getting out of the chair.  "Love to."


Sharing another laugh, we reached for each other, the embrace a little awkward at first as we each got used to a different body:  he wasn't accustomed to someone taller, I wasn't used to so much width of chest and shoulder.


It felt good, though, being enveloped in those arms... and the kissing wasn't bad either.  Made me wonder what else he could do with his mouth and I hoped he wouldn't keep me in suspense too long.





Ending up in bed with Tarrant had not been on my agenda, but now it had come about, well, life's full of surprises and this was turning out to be a particularly pleasurable one.  For one thing, now I knew why Avon always played with my hair when we were in bed:  curls are fun.  And Tarrant's were very soft and springy, tangling around my fingers as I trailed lazy kisses along his face and neck.


It didn't bother me that Avon had sought out Tarrant for company.  After all, I had hardly taken a vow of chastity after leaving Liberator.  There hadn't ever been that special spark again, though, that soul-deep coupling.  I hoped there had been some real caring between Avon and Tarrant... and that I would take it with grace if Avon preferred Tarrant now.


The scamp was certainly talented, and didn't appear to have a lot of inhibitions.  He'd got me out of my clothes and sprawled on the bunk... Avon's bed; I imagined I could smell his scent in the pillows, and somehow that made it even more exciting.  Any lingering hesitation vanished as Tarrant straddled my legs, slowly running his hands up my thighs.  Leaning down, he just barely grazed his lips along my cock, to my belly, on up to my throat, then taking my mouth.  My arms went around him, stroking up and down his back, enjoying the play of the muscles, burying one hand in his curls as he put everything into the kiss.


When we came up for air, I shifted us around to better explore him, kissing and nibbling at his lips-— that had always made Avon crazy, and it seemed Tarrant liked it too, trying to capture my tongue and taking it deep the instant I relented.  Groaning against my mouth as I slid a hand along his stomach, to his cock, finding him more than ready for any touch I offered, urgently thrusting into my hand as I pumped and stroked, still nuzzling along his throat and chest, tonguing his nipples...  When his hands clamped on my head and nudged me in a southerly direction, I willingly obliged, taking him in and voicing my own satisfaction as Tarrant squirmed us around so he could return the favour.


We were both so primed by then that it didn't take much to trigger each other, and as the sensations ebbed I found myself hoping we could have another session.  In a little while.  Right now this was enough, resting in each other's arms, enjoying them aftermath.  Maybe if neither of us could be with Avon, I was thinking, maybe we could at least have this.


And then the door opened.





Leaving Deva to make what he liked of my designs, I headed straight for my quarters, looking forward to a few hours of peace and quiet.  The last thing I expected was to find my bed occupied by a stark naked Blake and Tarrant, clearly enjoying the aftermath of a sexual romp.


"By all means, make yourselves at home," I said, and the pair of them looked right back at me with no trace of chagrin, as if they had every right to have a jolly frolic in my bed.


Torn between wanting to toss them out, or leaving myself, I hesitated just a moment too long.  Sharing a conspiratorial look between them, they were off the bed and reaching for me, tumbling me to the mattress.  I opened my mouth to object, but Tarrant only took that as an invitation to kiss me; and Blake was busy getting reacquainted with the rest of me, zippers and snaps giving way to his questing fingers... Dammit, he hadn't forgotten a single spot, had he, and I wondered if they'd been comparing notes.


After the initial surprise had faded, I managed to get some control over the situation, pulling away from both of them and trying to straighten my clothes as I sat up.  It was a little difficult, however, to attain much sense of dignity with the two of them crouched there, eyeing me like the main course.  Well, this had never been a particular fantasy of mine, thank you... Although there had been a couple of times, with Tarrant when I'd wondered... Anyway, the thing was, I knew this mood:  something they had in common was a tendency to look upon sex as playtime-— and it seemed I was the preferred plaything.  Even so, if I told them to leave me the hell alone, I knew they would comply with my wishes.  Trouble was, as the seconds ticked by, I was growing less certain of precisely what it was I did want.


Frankly, I had assumed my relationship-- this aspect of it, anyway - with both of them had ended. Tarrant had given me reason to suppose he held me responsible for Zeeona's death; and Blake, well...


Placing a hand on the chief source of my disquiet, the still-tender scars on his stomach, I met his eyes, not really wanting to spoil the mood, but not sure if I could go along with this if I didn't ask.  "I almost killed you, Blake.  How can you still want - ?"


Laying two fingers on my lips, he said, "It was a mistake."  Then he looked at Tarrant who was watching with a clouded expression.  "We all handled things a little poorly," Blake continued, "but we've been given another chance.  Maybe we can't forget what happened," he might have been speaking of far more than the shooting, "but we don't have to let it keep us apart."  Then he leaned over to give Tarrant a tender kiss that I envied.


After a moment, I caught Blake's head and drew him back to me, surprised I remembered the taste of his mouth.  Sinking down on the bed with Blake's arms around me, I felt Tarrant's hands on me, removing my clothes, caressing whatever he uncovered.  What might have started as a game, a competition, was undergoing a transformation; now their joint purpose was to drive me mad with sensation, their hands and mouths everywhere.


Nor did they neglect each other... and that was interesting too.  Voyeurism had never been a particular kick for me, but it was inspiring to watch them.  Beginning to feel left out, I insinuated myself between them again, kissing Tarrant's mouth while I fondled Blake...


A long while later, lying sandwiched between them, my head on Blake's shoulder while Tarrant snuggled against my back, I still couldn't sort out just who had done what to whom-— except that the results had been quite nice.  I hadn't felt so wonderfully worn out in a very long time.  No telling how this would feel in the morning, but there was no need to anticipate problems.  This felt too good to lose.



Epilogue, with Delta


Well, hell.  Here I am, the cuddliest person at this base, and no one to cuddle with.  Dayna and Soolin had made it clear they didn't want me around - and I could live quite a while on just that little glimpse of them:  Dayna stroking Soolin's golden head while Soolin's mouth stroked Dayna...  So all right, they didn't want a threesome, but I reckoned this could be the perfect time to indulge another favourite fantasy, and went along to Avon's quarters.  And what a rude surprise that was.  All three of them, in one little bed?  Somebody was going to wake up with a kink in his neck.


So then, just what was a horny little Delta meant to do? I was asking myself, just as Deva walked by, looking like a man with too much on his mind.  Well, I always have fancied redheads...


Catching up to Deva, I slung an arm across his shoulders and invited him along to my room for drinks.

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