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Part of the SAC-2003 |
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December 2003
Tyr wondered if Dylan would accept him killing half the crew because they were too cheerful. He growled in annoyance as the purple girl scurried away from him, and he stalked toward the gym. At least he could work out his frustrations with the weights since Dylan wasn’t likely to be there at this hour. A Nietzschean needed less rest than humans, so Tyr should be the only one prowling the ship, and he would be able to have some time to himself.
Harper whistled maniacally, Christmas tunes blaring in the background as he tossed tinsel, hung stars and generally made mayhem. It was the Christmas season, and even if he wasn’t back on Earth, he was gonna make sure it was a cool Yule!
"What are you doing?" Tyr demanded after walking into the gymnasium and getting tangled in a glittery mess. "What is this dreck?"
"Hey, don’t diss the tinsel and festive sparklies!" Harper scowled. "And before you start, I’ve got permission not only from Dylan but from the Rom-doll too. She said it made her feel pretty and holiday-ish.
"Oh, and I wouldn’t stand under the mistletoe if I were you. Earth tradition says that whoever stands under the mistletoe needs to be kissed. And I know no one wants to kiss a grumpy uber," Harper finished decisively and then broke into a rousing chorus of fa-la-la’s.
"I do not recall offering to kiss anyone," Tyr growled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Harper. He studied the human much as he would a new species of insect that was displaying some interesting characteristics.
"Well, thank Rev Bem’s Wayist God for that!" Harper replied, backing far away from the bigger man. "Last thing I’d want is an amorous bonehead on the rampage. Seen that once on Earth, ran the other way fast. Yeuch!" the younger man muttered as he headed towards the artificial tree he’d rigged up in the corner so that he could decorate it.
"Silver balls, silver balls, it’s Christmas time in the city," he hummed as he began to take out baubles and place them on the tree.
"What are you doing?" Tyr watched in utter bemusement, momentarily forgetting what had brought him to the recreation area. "That looks ridiculous."
"Yeah, well, so is your fashion sense, but you don’t see me commenting on the chain mail and uber outfits, do you?" Harper replied, miffed. "And for the record I don’t go around insulting your blind worship of that idiot Nietzsche, so do me a favor and don’t insult something that I happen to hold important, okay?"
Harper continued to hang baubles and balls for a few more minutes and then dropped the box with a ragged sigh. "Thanks for fucking ruining my Christmas, uber. Might as well call it a night; the joy of the activity is gone now."
Tyr’s eyebrows rose. "You are even more irrational than usual," he observed, turning to leave. Of all the crew on this ship, including the strange purple girl and the Magog, he thought Harper was probably the hardest to understand. The young human had so many masks Tyr sometimes wondered if Harper himself knew the real him anymore.
He decided that he would forego the weights and return to his quarters to meditate. It should relax him enough to sleep.
"Yeah, well, merry fucking Christmas to you too!" Harper retorted, pouting. He’d been looking forward to this all week. Decorating his tree, drinking hot chocolate, listening to Christmas carols. He’d even gone and made gifts for the entire crew, including the obnoxious uber. The mollybots were delivering them even now. "You’re a real..." Harper wracked his memory for the right word, "a real Scrooge, you know that?"
"And who or what is a Scrooge?" Tyr enquired, wondering why he was continuing this conversation. If he had any sense, he would leave now, but he found himself oddly intrigued by this stubborn human, though he would never tell Harper that.
"An economic and emotional miser who went around destroying people’s goodwill and happy feelings by being an utter bastard. Kinda like you," Harper replied overly brightly as he shot a raspberry over his shoulder at the Nietzschean and then wisely quickened his pace in order to stay out of reach in case he’d overstepped his bounds.
"A realist in other words," Tyr replied calmly, watching Harper suddenly move away when a moment before he’d been standing still. "Very well then, if I am ‘destroying your goodwill’, what would you rather I do?" He picked up a strand of tinsel and eyed it askance.
Harper glanced around, wracked his brain and, being Harper, did what he always did best: put his foot in his mouth. "Well, you could honor the age-old tradition of the mistletoe and kiss me, you fool."
For one of the few times in his life, Tyr was left speechless. Had the scrawny human really just suggested...? Yes, he had. And even more surprising, Tyr found himself intrigued by the idea. Before Harper had time to more than start to register his nervousness at Tyr’s reaction, the Nietzschean stepped forward, closed his hands around Harper’s upper arms, lowered his head, and kissed him.
His lips brushed lightly over the slightly parted paler ones of the engineer, teasing him with a barely-there touch. He moved closer, letting Harper feel the heat of his body, but their only points of contact were their mouths and Tyr’s hands on Harper’s arms.
Harper’s eyes widened in disbelief and then sank shut to enjoy the kiss as long as he could before Tyr’s instincts kicked in and made him realize that this had nothing to do with procreation and was therefore bad. But, damn, that Nietzschean could kiss, was the engineer’s last thought before his brain short-circuited as if jacked to a live wire and melted into a puddle of lust-filled goo.
Harper tasted of sugar and caffeine, and Tyr decided he liked the taste. One hand rose to clench in spiky hair on top of Harper’s head, holding him still while Tyr explored his mouth, making sure he didn’t miss an inch. At the same time, his other hand curved over the smaller man’s ass, pulling him snugly against the Nietzschean’s leather-clad frame.
Whimpering constantly, Harper inanely thought, Merry Christmas to me, as he felt his tonsils being swabbed by a prehensile Nietzschean tongue. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve this as a present, but hey, it was much better than a lump of ionized whatever in his stocking! Wriggling a little closer, he tentatively wrapped his hands around the uber guy’s waist and held on for dear life.
Tyr growled his satisfaction as Harper finally began to respond rather than simply accepting, and the hand cupping Harper’s ass began to knead the firm muscle. He tilted his head for a better angle, drawing back to let Harper pull in a deep breath before taking his mouth again.
Squeaking slightly and more than a little breathless, Harper took his life in his hands. "Umm, maybe we should be somewhere less public, just in case Captain Courageous or Beka or someone decides to wander by?"
"An excellent idea." Tyr kept a grip on Harper’s arm as he headed for the exit, liking the idea of Harper in his bed. "Perhaps we should bring the mistletoe. It seems to work well."
"You want to bring a poisonous weed with us? I don’t do kink, Anasazi. Well, okay I don’t do snuff; kink I do but poisonous weeds, no. Besides, you really want one of Trance’s little... friends in a room with us? When we’re naked?"
Tyr rolled his eyes. "I knew leaving your mouth free was a mistake." He yanked Harper up against him, muttering, "Put your legs around my waist," and kissed him again, hoping to make it to his quarters before Harper’s mouth re-engaged.
Harper would have sputtered a retort if he could, but his traitorous mouth was too busy being tongue-fucked by a Nietzschean god. Man, good thing his mouth was otherwise occupied, if he’d spit that one out, he’d never have lived it down. Damned uber-egos.
He did, however, see the merit of wrapping his legs around Tyr’s waist when the bigger man suddenly picked him up and began to walk, their cocks grinding against each other in a way that made Harper’s mind fry like a bug under a gauss rifle shot.
Tyr was grateful for the automatic doors as he nearly stumbled into his quarters with Harper wrapped around him like his own personal mistletoe, mouths never separating. He tumbled Harper onto the bed, barking a privacy order as he yanked his chain mail shirt off. Staring down at the slighter man, he inhaled deeply, smelling their arousal.
"Hey, no stopping! Who said anything about stopping?" Harper whined, spreading his legs a little wider as he squirmed on the surprisingly comfortable bed. Apparently the Spartan aesthetic of Tyr’s quarters didn’t include a lumpy bed. Thank god!
"This works better without clothes," Tyr pointed out. And though he would never admit it aloud, he was giving Harper the chance to change his mind. He knew that Harper came from Earth and had almost certainly had some unpleasant experiences with that planet’s Drago-Kazov rulers. He was pleased to see that Harper didn’t appear to be having any second thoughts.
"But you don’t have to stop in the process," Harper all but whined even as he toed his boots off rapid-fire and then tackled shirt and pants with equal speed and dexterity. He was quite good at the rapid strip, after all, not that it had landed him a lot of babes, but it was still a handy talent.
Laughing, Tyr stretched out beside him, one big hand stroking Harper’s fair skin. "Who said anything about stopping? I was just getting comfortable."
"You stopped," Harper pointed out with as much logic as his lust-taxed brain could handle. How embarrassing, here he was, the guy who’d had the entire freakin’ Perseid library in his head, and he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. He’d been able to speak in tongues, known the history of the ages, had been jacked in to... What the hell was he doing thinking about this crap when he could be getting rid of that itch that had been plaguing him since... well, forever? "Don’t fucking stop. Keep going!" he growled, capturing two fistfuls of braids and tugging.
"I plan to." The dark rumble was all the warning Harper got before Tyr devoured him. Mouth, hands, dangerously sharp but deftly wielded bone blades, they all moved over Harper, teasing and arousing him while Tyr learned his responses.
Harper mewled and writhed and moaned; he cursed, and bucked and swore and threatened as he was taken from one peak of arousal to the next. He was diamond hard and leaking like a freakin’ fountain. All he wanted to do was come. He wanted to be stuffed; he wanted to be sucked; he wanted it all and was very vocal in telling Tyr just what he did want. Hell, he practically begged for it.
Tyr bit back a laugh, knowing Harper would take it wrong at that moment. Apparently his worries about whether Harper would let himself be fucked had been baseless, and he was eager to fulfill at least some of the cursing human’s demands. He didn’t think Harper had even noticed when he prepared him, but he was sure the blond noticed when he slid between his legs and pressed inside him.
Howling happily, Harper slammed himself onto the rather impressive pole working its way into his ass. "Oh yeah, baby, give it to me. Give it to me now!" he moaned under his breath as he worked himself further and further onto Tyr’s cock, not happy until he could feel his balls being abraded by the hair surrounding the Nietzschean’s groin. "Oh yeah, this is what I’m talkin’ about!"
"I should have tried this way to stop you talking much sooner," Tyr chuckled, biting and sucking at Harper’s throat as he began to thrust in and out of the yielding body.
"Fuck you, uber, I’m not that easy. Consider this an early Christmas present is all," Harper managed to get out in between gasps of sheer, unadulterated pleasure.
"Perhaps someday, but for now I prefer to fuck you," Tyr replied. "I could grow to like this Christmas of yours if this is the result." He gave a particularly deep thrust, smirking when Harper mewled. He took Harper’s mouth again, not wanting to talk anymore, not sure he could talk intelligently for much longer. But then he had to point out, "I’m not Christian." He raised an arm to scrape a bone blade over Harper’s belly, letting it catch in his navel and on a nipple.
"Christmas is all about the, oh god, the giving, doesn’t matter if you, Jesus wept, if you’re a freakin’ heathen or, oh holy fucking Christ on a pogo stick!" Harper wailed as those damned bone blades hit all his erogenous zones. If the uber kept that up, Captain Courageous would be in the market for a new god of engineering because he, Harper, would be finding nirvana in a liquefied state.
"Consider this my giving." Tyr bit one of Harper’s earlobes just hard enough to sting, hips still thrusting forward and his arm never ceasing its arousing movements.
Harper’s brain finally short-circuited. He yowled like a cat in heat and writhed underneath Tyr like pretty much the same. He bucked and squirmed and demanded and gasped. His body arched, and his fingers raked down an almost too muscled back, leaving raised red welts as he lost it completely.
Tyr growled a curse, Harper’s gyrations nearly pushing him over the edge before he was ready. "And the best part about gifts," he rasped, barely retaining control, "is that you get to keep them."
"Say what?" Harper shrieked as his orgasm finally hit him, his eyes flying open absurdly wide and his body shuddering under the Nietzschean’s onslaught.
Harper’s body rippling around him was too much for Tyr, and he roared a challenge as he drove into the human a final time, filling him with his seed. "Keep them," he repeated a moment later.
"I ain’t no freakin’ Santa sack, uber," Harper retorted when he could breathe again, but it was decidedly lacking his normal heat. "And I sure as hell ain’t the gift that keeps giving... well, unless I’ve got motivation."
"Are you implying that I didn’t provide sufficient motivation? I’ll have to try harder." Tyr reared up as if to start thrusting into him again.
"Try not to break my engineer, Nietzschean." Rommie’s voice drifted out of the wall console in arrant disregard of Tyr’s earlier order for privacy, "I will require him eventually," and then fell silent again.
Harper’s eyes widened, and his entire body blushed. "Oh god, I’m never gonna live this down!"
Tyr’s eyebrows rose, and the slight flaring of his blades was an even more accurate measure of his mood. "Are you ashamed of this?"
"Of getting fucked into critical meltdown? No. But Rom-doll, she’s a freakin’ machine, Tyr. And she’s got the memory of one. First time I mess up one of her circuits or don’t get her shiny metal butt rewired fast enough and zing... out comes the blackmail. I guarantee it. She’s almost... Nietzschean like that, you know?"
Tyr slowly relaxed back into the bed. "An admirable quality. As a human poet once said, ‘revenge is a dish best served cold.’ But since you seemed to enjoy yourself, perhaps we should consider doing this again in the future?" Tyr realized that he liked spending time with the complex human.
"You tryin’ to adopt me or something?" Harper asked, one ginger eyebrow shooting up into his hairline.
"I would not say that my interest is paternal."
"God, I hope not, not after the way you reamed me into the next system. I’d be very worried about you if that were the case," Harper laughed. "I was referring to not being a lap dog or a guinea pig or a pet human, actually."
"I am not a Dragan to make a sentient being into a pet," Tyr replied with distaste. "I was thinking more of a companion, one with whom to share time, conversation and pleasure."
If possible Harper’s eyebrow went deeper into his hairline. "You actually mean that? You’re not tryin’ to pull one over on my gorgeous self? Well, I’ll be damned. That would be.... acceptable," the human said in an almost dead on imitation of the Nietzschean whose bed he was currently reclining in.
Tyr smiled faintly. "And would that involve being open about the association to the rest of the crew?"
"Hey, you can tell Beka. And Captain Courageous for that matter," Harper smirked, already imagining the reactions of his former and current captains.
The Nietzschean shrugged. "Very well. I have no problem with that. And should I tell them that you were my Christmas present?"
"I didn’t... I never... I’m not... ARGH!" Harper sputtered, pulling a pillow over his head to hide behind.
That drew a full-body, shoulders-shaking laugh from Tyr. "I promise not to forget about you after a few weeks."
"That’s what I’m afraid of," Harper retorted, his response muffled by the pillow still covering his face. He was so, so screwed! But hey, maybe he’d finally gotten just what he wanted for Christmas after all these years of wanting and waiting. Someone to call his.
END
since 02-17-07
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