Roj Blake carefully considered the information that flashed before him on the console's screen. There was really only one decision to be made. The energy banks were too low for anything else.
"All right, we'll hide here for a while. The planet should give us some protection from the detectors," he said as he turned to face LIBERATOR's main computer. "Zen, take us into orbit as close as possible to the planet's surface. As close as possible, Zen. The orbit can decay in forty–eight hours."
++Confirmed. The parameters were anticipated.++
Blake looked startled, then he chuckled. "I get the distinct feeling I've offended Zen's professional pride."
Avon glanced up sourly from the calculations he was performing. "It's just a machine, Blake," he said, scowling.
Vila, seated at the flight station nearest Zen, looked smugly up at Gan, standing beside him. "And he should know," he said with a sly stage whisper that carried over the whole flight deck. As far as Vila was concerned, Avon had been acting too damned superior lately and it was about time someone let him know it.
Gan folded his arms across his chest. "Well, Avon is the expert."
"That's not what I meant," corrected Vila.
Gan looked worriedly at his friend, recognizing that the thief was purposefully antagonizing the surly computer expert.
Avon's eyes narrowed as he took in the obvious challenge. So Vila wanted to play. All right, but the thief would soon find out that Avon took such challenges very seriously.
"No. He was calling me a machine." Avon stood and walked out of the couch area, toward Vila. "Since he undoubtedly defines himself as a human being, I will choose to accept that as more of a compliment than anything else." He came to a stop in front of Vila's console. Yes, he thought as he eyed the slender thief, Vila is very human indeed.
Gan let his arms fall to his side and he stepped back, unsure what would happen next. He looked at Vila for a clue and saw the thief grimace and bend his head down as he worked a few of the controls, apparently deciding to ignore Avon.
"Since we've got time on our hands, we might as well take a look at the planet," said Blake testily. He was more than tired of Avon and Vila's fighting, which seemed to have escalated recently. He stood up and turned toward Jenna. "Anybody feel like some exercise?"
Jenna smiled tiredly up at him. "I'll be happy to get clear of this lot for a while." She wasted no time in leaving the flight deck.
Blake chuckled and went to stand next to Vila's console. "Gan?"
The big man looked from Avon to Vila, noting how Avon was staring wolfishly at the smaller man. Vila still pretended to be absorbed by the controls on his console. Gan shook his head with disgust. Sometimes the games these two played got very tedious for everyone else. He glanced back at Blake.
"I could do with a change of air. I'll get kitted up."
Blake, his hands on his hips, stared at Avon. "Vila?" he asked.
The thief looked up immediately. "Uh, I'll stay here," he requested mildly.
Blake, who expected that exact answer, looked down in satisfaction at the thief. "Then you can man the teleport," he ordered and left.
Vila made a few hurried, last minute adjustments then slipped out of his chair.
Avon, with a cool appraising stare, stepped up to Vila, intentionally crowding the thief as he moved in to reclaim his flight position. This forced Vila to stand on his tiptoes and cautiously inch past the arrogant technician. The thief's expression was one of insolent defiance as he edged away from Avon and left.
A pleased expression on his face, Avon swung around into Vila's recently vacated seat and settled in. A satisfied smile crept up onto his face as he replayed the sight of Vila being so close and forced to acknowledge Avon's presence and dominance.
He decided there and then that he would have the thief. It was only a matter of picking the right time and place and, of course, convincing Vila of it.
Avon smiled again with anticipation.
* * * * *
Vila sat at the teleport console and closed his eyes. He was waiting for a call from the planet below, but that wasn't what was occupying his mind. His vivid imagination was slowly undressing Avon, button by button.
Vila remembered what his older sister had told him about dealing with arrogant Alphas. She had been haughty herself and never really accepted her classification as a Delta. "Always hold your head up high, Vila. Just remember that those damned Alphas aren't any better than you. If one of them gives you a hard time, just picture them in their underwear. It always takes them down a few notches and makes them look as silly as they really are."
Vila had found her advice sound and had used it frequently. It had lent a novel angle to his trials and incarcerations. He found that he was using the technique quite frequently on Avon lately. In fact, more often than was really warranted. And he didn't usually stop at the underwear, either.
Vila had just taken off the technician's turtle neck sweater and was admiring the dark tousled hair, wishing he could either smooth it back down, or mess it up even more thoroughly by a more direct participation when a communicator sounded. So caught up in his fantasy, he only smiled contentedly and sighed. At least he did until Blake's urgent call finally penetrated his brain and sent him into action.
* * * * *
A few days later, Jenna and Blake were safely back on board after their run–in with Travis and the mutoid. Things have returned to normal aboard LIBERATOR, thought Jenna as she witnessed yet another squabble between Avon and Vila. This one started during the evening meal and Jenna, Gan and Cally watched in various stages of amusement and irritation as the fight escalated. Blake was spared only because he was at watch on the flight deck.
"I think you should finish reprogramming the food processors, Avon. Not enough selection available," Vila complained as he took another mouthful of a meal that would have been considered wholesome and well–rounded on any one of a dozen worlds.
"I haven't the time right now. Perhaps you could rouse yourself and attempt it on your own."
"No, no, no," said Vila. "You're not getting off that easy. Computers are yours and you left the job half–finished. Very sloppy, Avon."
The technician gave Vila a baleful look as he ate the last few bites on his plate.
"Just look at yourself," Vila continued. "It's pretty obvious you're not enjoying your food. Yes, I think a change of menu would do us all some good."
"Don't press it, Vila," Avon warned. Disgusted, he got up and left.
Vila watched with satisfaction as he finished his meal; it wasn't often that he ended one up over the computer expert. In fact, he was feeling rather confident at the moment. He swallowed the last few ounces of his beverage and leaned back.
"You know, I think I'll go hunt Avon up and let him know what a well–stocked larder should hold," he murmured as he exited the room.
Jenna shook her head, exasperated by Vila's apparent death wish. She glanced over at Gan. "I'll bet you even money that Avon will end up strangling that little nuisance. Either that or take him to bed. I just hope whatever happens, happens soon. I don't know how much more of this constant bickering I can take."
Gan looked at her, his expression filled with worry.
Cally was startled. "Avon wouldn't kill Vila," she protested, horrified at the thought.
"You're probably right," Jenna said with a grimace. "So I guess that leaves them to become lovers. I can say I've never seen a more unlikely pair, though."
Cally's face went blank with bafflement. "But, they're both men…" she said weakly.
"Doesn't mean anything," dismissed Jenna. "I know attraction when I see it, and those two opposites are attracting like crazy."
Cally turned to Gan. "Is that how you see it, too?"
He sighed, weary. "Let's not jump to conclusions just yet."
Jenna stared at him, her expression saying more than words ever could.
"All right," he conceded. "I'll have a word with Vila tonight. Maybe I can get him to tone it down a little."
"You do that," said Jenna, and if it sounded like an order, that was probably because it was.
* * * * *
Later that night, Gan was sharing a companionable drink with Vila in his cabin, waiting for the subject of Avon to be mentioned in the conversation. Inevitably he was and Gan took the opportunity to steer Vila onto the new topic.
"Why do you torment him so?" Gan asked.
"Who? Avon?" Vila asked, startled. He thought for a second before he answered. "Snooty Alpha. He deserves it"
"Does he? Really?" Gan persisted.
"Of course he does. He carries on like he owns this ship, like he's bothered that the rest of us are on board. I can't resist giving him a hard time."
"Vila," said Gan patiently, "Avon is a dangerous man. Be careful."
The thief looked intently at Gan. "Dangerous? Do you really think so?"
Gan gave a heavy sigh. He hated being put in a position like this. "He could be, Vila. I just think you are playing with fire and I don't want to see you get burned."
Vila held up his glass and silently stared into the depths of his drink.
Might as well go all the way, thought Gan. "Jenna seems to think there is an attraction between you two."
Vila shot the big man a suspicious look. "Attraction! I think our lovely pilot has been staring at too many asteroids, if that's what she thinks!"
Gan regarded the thief steadily. "Are you being honest with yourself, Vila?"
"Why should I be honest with myself when I'm not about anything else?" Vila evaded.
Gan scratched his head in defeat. "Have it your way. Just remember that danger can be quite attractive in its own way, but it is still dangerous."
Vila returned his gaze to his glass. He could be right. Why am I always attracted to the wrong type?
* * * * *
It was another day and predictably, another argument was occurring. This time, Blake and Avon were the participants.
"LIBERATOR is too valuable to be risked as a simple transport vessel," said Avon as he paced across the flight deck.
Blake was feeling annoyed again at the dour computer expert. Why must he fight me every step of the way? Why must he always be so obstinate? he thought. Blake had noticed that the quick way to end an argument with Avon was to go on the attack. Avon would usually beck down from an escalation of hostilities. "Don't you mean that you think that you are too valuable to be risked?"
Avon came to a stop and stared frostily at Blake. "Possibly, but that's not the point. This ship should not be endangered for something that any ordinary planet–hopper can handle. There is so much wealth in the strong room that you could buy this Avalon twenty ships and not even notice the difference."
Blake returned the stare. "lf a planet–hopper can handle it, so can we. We are going to pick up Avalon. Period."
Avon scanned the room's other occupants for support. When he sensed none coming, he glared at Jenna and Cally, then left. He passed Gan on the way out, totally ignoring the big man's cheerful, "Hello." Talking to Blake was like pounding one's head against a brick wall and it had given Avon a headache. He headed for the medical section. As he neared the surgery door, it opened and Vila slipped out, starting guiltily as he saw Avon coming toward him.
Avon smiled as fate supplied him with the perfect outlet for his frustrations. "What have you been up to, Vila? Does Cally know that you've been in there?" he asked, smoothly.
"Of course she does," Vila answered. "I was just helping her rearrange the stock," he said as he walked past Avon in a bald–face attempt at a bluff.
Avon's arm shot out in front of Vila, barring the thief's path. "You wouldn't be lying, would you?"
"Certainly not," Vila answered promptly, trying to push past the technician.
Avon ignored Vila's efforts. In fact, he took the opportunity to advance a half–step closer, crowding the smaller man against the wall. "It is easy enough to check," he said, leaning closer. "All I have to do is call the flight deck and ask her." He stared down at the thief, enjoying the effect that he was causing.
Vila was having difficulty breathing, Avon's nearness apparently causing all sorts of short–circuits in his body. Damned if Vila was going to let on, though; Avon was too arrogant by half. Instead, he glared up defiantly and said, "Call her then. You're going to look pretty silly when she confirms my story, though."
Avon knew Vila was bluffing. He was mere inches away from him and could smell the soma on the thief's breath. He was considering how much longer he could successfully detain Vila until his ultimate goal of seduction was achieved when Gan turned the corner and, after a slight hesitation, came up to stand behind Avon.
Gan's big, beefy hand landed with apparent friendliness on Avon's shoulder. "Morning all," the big man said as he gauged the odd behavior of his two crewmates. Finally deciding to be blunt, he asked, "Would you like some help, Vila?"
Vila's eyes flickered between Avon and Gan. "Ehhh," he stammered. The relaxant he had just consumed was making him think slower than usual and he couldn't decide what he wanted.
Avon never looked away from Vila. "He means 'no'," he said, amused by Vila's confusion. It was refreshing after Blake's stubbornness.
Gan gave Avon a warning look to keep quiet. "I think he's capable of answering for himself. Vila?" he asked again.
The thief stared down at his feet. This was the perfect opportunity to escape…except now that it was possible, he realized he didn't want to. The promise he sensed in Avon's eyes was too enticing to ignore.
Vila looked up squarely at Gan's face, a bit chagrined. "Er, thanks Gan, but everything's alright," he said, face flushing with embarrassment.
Gan noticed Avon's wolfish grin at Vila's admission and shook his head. He gave a sturdy slap to Avon's back before he left, letting the technician feel the power that Gan had as a subtle warning as to what would happen if things went badly. "I just hope you know what you're doing, Vila," he said as he walked away.
* * * * *
It was nearly four hours later when Avon roused from the light sleep he had drifted into after the extremely energetic and passionate bout of lovemaking he had shared with Vila. The thief lay on his stomach, his arm thrown haphazardly across Avon's chest as he slept.
As memory of the last few hours flooded back to Avon, he got an immediate erection. He pushed the now heavy arm off his chest and rolled Vila over onto his back. The thief complied with a sensuous grace, waking in mid–movement. He held onto Avon and pulled him on top of himself as he settled on his back.
Vila smiled as he felt Avon's hard penis push against his hip. "You wake up ready to go, don't you?" he murmured, flexing his knees, then letting them fall outwards, in frog–leg fashion. He squirmed about, nudging Avon onto a more centered position.
Avon was surprised to find his erection was now probing against Vila's anus. He reached down and gently pushed Vila's genitals up and out of the way. He could feel the thief's manhood swelling as he touched it. He lingered, caressing and stroking the organ, letting Vila become fully aroused before he proceeded. His hand drifted to his own erection as he checked to see if the lubricant they'd used earlier needed reapplying. It didn't and he guided himself into Vila, slowly and steadily pushing his way in. Vila's hands came up under the covers to rest on Avon's ribcage, steadying the technician until he could find his balance. Avon continued his slow, careful thrusting as he made minute changes in his position, finally resting his arms on Vila's chest, hands on his shoulders for the best leverage.
Avon looked down and was excited to see Vila's face, inches from his own, the eyes closed in bliss. As he pumped into Vila, Avon watched as Vila squirmed with delight, causing himself to become further inflamed in the process. He leaned heavily on Vila, thrusting particularly far in, feeling the simultaneous friction he was exerting on Vila's genitals as his stomach rubbed against them. He paused as Vila arched up into him, the thief's hands tightening along his back.
When Avon did not continue as expected, Vila opened his eyes to find his lover staring down at him, a smug grin on his face. "What are you looking at?" Vila said, irritated at being observed.
"You. You seem to be enjoying yourself quite a bit," Avon said as resumed his rocking motion, but keeping the pressure constant as their hips ground together.
Vila's eyes widened as intense pleasure shot through him. Avon smiled at how easily Vila responded, at how thoroughly the smaller man was under his control.
Vila caught the expression and was annoyed. "Bloody, arrogant Alpha," he muttered disgustedly.
Avon broke into a wide, toothy smile. "Exactly!" he said, continuing the hard, purposeful stimulation of the Delta.
Vila glared up at him as he wriggled about to increase the pressure, his breath becoming harsher. They stared at each other, locked in a strange contest of wills as their bodies strained together in perfect synch, their pleasure continuing to build as their grips tightened on each other.
Finally, Vila conceded and muttered, "To hell with it," as he closed his eyes. He placed his feet across Avon's thighs, entwining himself further as he gave himself up to the complete enjoyment of the moment.
* * * * *
Blake paused outside Avon's room, uncertain as to proceed or not. He was now regretting what he'd said earlier and wanted to try again to convince Avon that this trip was important. He needed Avon's help and letting Avon sulk in his cabin was not going to help matters.
Fearing that Avon would just ignore him if he knocked, Blake opened the door and burst in.
"Avon, we have to talk…" is as far as he got before he assimilated the unexpected sight that greeted him.
Avon, in bed and determinedly humping someone, didn't even look up. "Not now, Blake. I'm busy."
Blake knew he should leave, but he was transfixed by this vision of Avon with his hair messed and the smooth muscles his back glistening with sweat as they bunched and strained. Blake had never imagined Avon in a sexual way before and now he was fascinated and drawn to the intent passion clearly visible on the man who was always so aloof and cool.
A flash of fair hair caught the rebel leaders eye and Blake felt a sudden surge of shock and denial. Not Jenna, he thought. Anger mobilized him and Blake stepped forward.
"Vila!" he gasped in stunned disbelief as he recognized the small man nearly hidden underneath Avon.
At that moment Vila, his eyes seemingly closed, clutched at Avon and pushed his head back into the pillow, emitting a small cry as he came.
Avon, still not looking at Blake, said, "This isn't a peepshow, Blake. Get the hell out, now." His voice was harsh and tilled with threat. The technician leaned down and captured Vila's mouth in a long, deep kiss.
The shock of seeing the kiss broke Blake's mesmerization and he began to back out of the room. Just before the door closed, he heard Avon's husky voice. "Your legs, Vila. Put them up over my shoulders."
Blake, shook to the core and still stunned, made his way to his cabin. He needed privacy until he could come to terms with what he'd just witnessed.
* * * * *
Without too much difficulty, Vila had accomplished Avon's request and was now bent nearly double as Avon leaned down on him. He watched Avon pump back and forth into him, the dark face intent and vague as he sought completion.
"You know, I think Blake was jealous of you," Vila murmured as he remembered the rebel leader's expression, caught in a glance as Vila had come. Yes, Blake's shock was all too apparent, but for a brief second, so had been his desire.
The computer expert was truly involved with trying to climax and was irritated by the constant interruptions.
"Screw Blake!" he said under his breath as he shifted his grip on Vila and started in on the short, fast thrusts that would push him over the edge.
Vila relaxed into the powerful embrace. "Careful, Avon; that might be what he has in mind."
"Shut up, idiot, and concentrate."
Vila sighed. Even in bed he insults me. He looked up at Avon's strained expression and smiled. Now it was his turn observe the arrogant Alpha at his most revealed and naked moment. Damn, he's handsome was the only thought that came to mind and he marveled anew at his recent run of good luck.
* * * * *
Blake sat on his bed in his cabin, trying to unravel the conflicting thoughts that whirled inside his head. Avon and Vila were lovers — and he found that thought almost unbearable. Shying away from his strong reaction, he tried to pinpoint why he should feel so strongly. Thinking back over what he could remember of his life, he came up blank on the subject of any homosexuals he might have known or any such experiences he might have had. Trouble was, he couldn't even remember any hetero encounters, either; his past was gone. He assumed he must have matured normally, becoming at ease with himself on sexual matters, enjoying a certain self–confidence, but he couldn't remember! Without such a base, he was at a loss, with no sexual identity, for that was something it took adolescents years to form. He grudgingly admitted to himself that that's what was probably making him ignore Jenna's advances and clearly willing ways.
Maybe it had to do with the crimes he'd been accused of. He'd been appalled when he'd discovered that two of his victims had been boys. Sickened by that unpleasant thought, he shook his head, determined to flee such memories.
The image of Avon floated unbidden into his mind, the face flushed with exertion, his nakedness incredibly erotic since it was unheard of for Avon to show more than a glimpse of wrist or neck. And Avon hadn't even paused in his lovemaking when interrupted by Blake's intrusion — the technician's single–mindedness had carried over into that facet of his personality, too. The depth of dedication that that hinted at sent a shiver up his spine.
Suddenly Blake realized that he envied that sort of attention, that he desired Avon to lavish that single–mindedness on himself. Avon was unique, his attentiveness too valuable to be wasted on a common Delta. If only Blake could secure loyalty and personal dedication to himself and to his cause, why, he would then have control over all the power that Avon represented; control over his intelligence, his reasoning, his skills – and power over the untamed, solitary man himself. Looking back, Blake decided it wasn't that he'd discovered Avon having sex with another man that he found so unbearable, but that Avon had been with Vila. It boiled down to jealousy and possessiveness. And there wasn't much he could do about that except try to win Avon over for himself.
* * * * *
An hour later, Blake was startled out of his thoughts by a sharp knock at his door. He stood and walked over to the entranceway, manually thumbing the control. The door slid open revealing Avon, dressed in dark trousers and a loose, full cut shirt, his face expressionless.
They stared at each other for a few heartbeats until Blake stepped back, gesturing Avon into the room. He sealed the door behind him.
The technician walked in, then turned abruptly to face the rebel leader.
"You may own this ship, Blake, but you do not own the crew," he said crisply. "In future, you will knock on a door and wait for permission to enter before doing so." Avon's eyes grew dark as they narrowed. "Our cabins are private and privacy is a highly valued commodity on board a ship."
Blake ran his hand through his hair. "Look Avon, I'm sorry about what happened. It's just that I wanted to talk with you and I thought you wouldn't let me in if I announced myself. I never thought that you'd be—"
Avon interrupted. "I don't care what you thought. What I do in my off–time is nobody's business but my own."
"And Vila's?" Blake said with a slight challenge in his voice.
There was a distinct chill in the air as Avon responded. "As I said before; that is my business. Now if you'll excuse me," he said as he turned and left the room.
Unhappily, Blake watched him go, wanting to call him back but knowing it'd be worse than useless to continue at this time. As the door shut, a black thought crossed his mind.
Is he going back to have sex again with Vila? He grew angry at the thought. Angry and frustrated.
* * * * *
The next few days passed normally enough though quieter than usual. With the course laid in and agreed on, there were no fights about the destination. Avon and Vila were making themselves scarce lately, though no one noticed it except for Blake.
Blake was staring surreptitiously at Avon now. It was the technician's watch but it would be ending soon, and Blake wanted to have a few private words with him before he disappeared again. Avon had been more distant than usual after Blake's unannounced visit. The rebel leader's frustration was building to a critical point and he wouldn't rest now until he could talk to him.
Cally came in to relieve Avon and started to question Blake about Avalon's organization. Blake gave her a short, abrupt answer as he watched Avon quickly leave the flight deck. The big man followed as soon as he could.
As Blake turned the corner into the passageway that Avon's cabin was off of, he stopped suddenly. Vila, his back to him, was at the door carrying on a conversation with the technician who was out of sight inside the room. After a quick word or two, Vila shut the door and left, walking away from Blake.
Blake hesitated, then followed, catching up to the thief in the galley. He watched with growing jealousy as Vila quickly piled food upon a tray, his selections obviously to provide a breakfast for two.
Satisfied, Vila picked up the tray and turned, starting as he finally caught sight of Blake.
"Oh, hello Blake," he said nervously.
Blake, his bad temper very apparent, stared at Vila. After a pause, he took a few slow steps toward the other man.
Vila set the tray down and backed up, unnerved by Blake's dark expression. They held their positions for a tense moment. Vila, anxious from the unspoken threat in the big man, suddenly noticed just how large and strong Blake was. If he was going to get violent, Vila decided it was going to hurt. A lot.
Finally, Blake spoke. "I want you to stop seeing Avon," he demanded, staring hard at the smaller man.
Vila's mouth opened as he silently began a couple of different words, but he never completed them. He closed his mouth, swallowing hard, choosing instead to nod his head to show compliance.
Blake turned his head slightly to one side. "Good." He looked down at the tray. "Were you taking that to him?"
"Yes," Vila answered, his voice quiet and subdued.
Blake smiled humourlessly. "I'll see that he gets it," he said, clearly dismissing the smaller man. As he stepped up to the tray, Vila quickly retreated another two steps. Blake picked up the food and left without a backward glance.
As Vila watched Blake go, the worst of his fear left with the rebel leader. The unfairness of it all stirred his anger and resentment, and he reached over to the intercom. He punched up Avon's cabin.
"Avon? Avon?" he called, intending to warn the computer expert, but there was no answer.
Worried and dejected, he turned in resignation and headed back to his room. Once there, he flopped miserably on the bed.
What chance did he have against Blake? Aside from getting thumped if Blake thought he was still seeing Avon, the thief worried about something else. Blake wanted Avon and he looked determined to have him. Vila had seen those two interact and had felt the electricity between them. It was a powerful current, one that attracted and repelled at the same time. A typical Alpha–type relationship, convoluted and tinged with everything under the sun, save for friendship. That was all that Vila had to offer Avon — a simplistic, low–key friendship.
It was obvious that Vila couldn't compete against Blake; he paled in every comparison. Where Blake was strong, confident and radiated virility, Vila knew that others saw himself as a slight and unassuming man who was frequently annoying and sometimes humorous. On top of that, he was a Delta, and everyone knew how inferior they were.
And when he remembered how he hadn't stood up to Blake when Avon's caresses meant so much to him, he felt like they were right.
With a terrible certainty, he knew he was going to lose Avon. His throat constricted with painful emotion and he rolled over on the bed, fighting a losing battle with the inevitable tears.
* * * * *
Blake stood at Avon's door, his desire for quick action interfering with his judgment. Purposefully exerting some self–control, he knocked loudly on the door. When there was no answer, he tried the control panel. The door opened invitingly and he stepped in. Scanning the room and finding it empty, he set the tray down. The faint sounds of the shower drifted out of the bathroom. Satisfied he would be getting some answers, he sat down, propping his feet up on the chair opposite him in arrogant anticipation.
The shower stopped and after a few minutes, Avon emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair glistening wetly against his forehead and neck. Spotting Blake, Avon's expression passed quickly through surprise to anger.
Before Avon could speak, Blake said, "I did knock. When there was no answer, I tried the door. As it was unlocked and the tray was heavy," he said with a nod towards the food, "I came in."
Avon's gaze lingered on the food and he frowned. That was the tray Vila had gone to get. The food was here and Vila wasn't, but Blake was. Expressionlessly, he looked up at Blake and was disconcerted to find the rebel leader's interested gaze slowly moving down his nearly naked body. Warning bells went off in his mind as he stood silently, permitting the scrutiny. Avon knew that to bargain effectively, one had to do so from a position of power. Standing damply in the middle of the room clothed only in a narrow towel, Avon felt vulnerable and at a disadvantage. Trying to even things, he calmly moved to sit at the table, pulling one of the plates toward him.
"May I join you?" Blake asked.
Staring steadily at Blake, Avon coolly said, "For breakfast — yes."
Blake didn't like that answer and his expression darkened dangerously. He leaned forward. "Why Avon? Why Vila?"
The technician thought briefly about telling Blake to go to hell, but the big man's mood seemed too uncertain for such a challenging statement. Avon took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair.
"Because he's willing. Because he's good in bed. And because he makes no demands upon me." Avon wasn't about to admit to the affection he felt for Vila, or how relaxed he felt after he had engaged Vila in a bout of playful sex — for sex was the last area that he allowed himself to indulge in for fun. His time with Vila was playful all right, but there was also a deep undercurrent there.
And none of that was any of Blake's business.
Yearning built in Blake's expression. "What about me, Avon?" he asked earnestly. "Suppose I was willing?"
Well, Blake couldn't get more blunt than that, Avon thought wryly. He looked at Blake, imagining what it'd be like to be held in an intimate embrace by someone who was bigger and more powerful than himself. He'd be at Blake's mercy then; at the mercy of a man who was a natural–born manipulator. Avon suddenly felt chilled as he considered it.
No, Blake already was too controlling for Avon's tastes. If Avon let him become his lover, he'd be giving Blake a very powerful key to himself, and Avon simply didn't trust Blake enough for that. It might have been interesting, but Avon couldn't risk it.
With a hint of regret, Avon said, "I think not, Blake."
"Why not?" Blake demanded. He grabbed Avon's forearm, his eyes seeking some answer in Avon's face.
"You make too many demands on me already," he said stonily.
Blake got to his feet, pulling Avon up with him. Standing close to the technician, he whispered, "If I already make too many demands, what difference will a few more make?"
He kissed Avon then, insistent and unignorable, his hands slipping around to caress the bare skin that he had been aching for. His passion igniting, Blake hungrily deepened the kiss, crushing Avon to him as he sensed a response in the smaller man.
Avon recognized that to fight off a kiss that was already happening would be futile and undignified. And Blake did appeal to him. His naivete was charming and he physically broadcasted a very masculine sex appeal. Avon's curiosity got the better of him and he allowed the kiss to continue — and what's more, he allowed himself to enjoy it. But he also decided that when the kiss ended, he would stop Blake, no matter what. No one would control him.
When the kiss was over, Blake was surprised and baffled to find that Avon was grinning at him with a wild, dangerous glint in his eyes.
"And that is all you're going to get, Blake — unless you're prepared to fight me over it," Avon said determinedly.
Blake recognized the trapped, back–to–the–wall look in Avon and he suddenly sobered. Avon was not to be taken lightly. If he wasn't careful, instead of securing Avon's conditional love, he would guarantee his undiluted hate. That was the last thing he wanted, for it was probably a fatal condition.
"Avon…" he said cautiously, his voice tinged by a slightly pleading tone.
Avon stepped back, shaking Blake's hold off him. "You'd better leave now, before you do something that we'll both regret."
Too confused for words, Blake backed toward the door. When he turned to leave, Avon called out to him. "And Blake, Vila is also a free agent. Leave him alone after this."
Then Blake was gone.
Avon stared at the door, conscious of his heartbeat rapidly thudding in his chest. Adrenaline reaction, he categorized, realizing that he had half–expected for Blake to need more than just a verbal refusal. Relief flooded through him as he sat and thumbed the table intercom, punching the code to Vila's room. Blake had been easier to handle than expected but now the technician needed to find out what had happened to Vila.
"Vila," he called, his voice rough. "Vila, answer me." He frowned at the continued silence. Well, he could either just leave it and go to sleep, or he could put out a ship–wide call for the thief. Neither choice appealed to him.
"Zen," he called into the communicator, for the ship's mysterious computer consciousness was available anywhere on the ship. "Is there a life–form reading in the cabin currently occupied by Vila Restal?"
++lnboard sensors indicate activity at that location.++
"Do your sensors also indicate a fault with that room's communication equipment?"
++Negative. Communication has been manually switched off from that location.++
Avon released the activator. "Ahhh," he said, pleased at the puzzle's solution. It appeared that the thief had retreated to his room to sulk. He'd soon take care of that.
He threw on his robe and picked up the tray. Barefoot, he left his room and padded to Vila's. He thought the odds were slight that he'd encounter either Gan or Jenna at this hour and Cally was safely on watch on the flight deck. He was right and he reached the cabin without incident. He knocked firmly on Vila's door. After a slight pause, the door slid open and the thief stood there, eyes red–rimmed. "Oh," Vila said with a dull surprise. They stood staring at each other.
Avon tilted his head to the side. "It's drafty out here, you know," he stated, uncomfortable by the smaller man's uncertain welcome. What had Blake said to him to cause this reaction?
"Er, come in," Vila mumbled as he backed away, closing the door after the technician had entered.
Avon set the tray down and turned to face him. "What happened?" he said, his voice clipped.
Vila looked down, uneasy. "Blake stopped me."
When it looked like Vila wasn't going to continue, Avon prompted him. "Obviously. What did he say?"
"He told me to stay away from you."
"And?"
"That's all, really," Vila said, uncomfortable. He snuck a glance at Avon.
The technician sighed. Vila's continued reluctance was confusing and baffling. "Evidently, that is not all. What is wrong, Vila?"
The thief wandered to the table. He picked up a spoon and began to fidget nervously.
"Did you…I mean, can I ask what happened between you and Blake?" he asked timidly.
So that's it. Vila apparently wants to be sure he isn't stepping on any toes.
"Since I am standing in your cabin clothed only in a robe, I would think that is obvious. I told him no."
Vila glanced up at Avon. "Oh." Vaguely worried, he asked, "Was he upset?"
"It doesn't matter if he was. I told him I wasn't interested. I also told him to leave you alone."
Vila perked up. "You did?"
A small smile toyed on Avon's mouth. "Of course I did. Idiot." He suddenly sat at the table and began spreading the plates between them.
"Sit," he ordered. "We have a little over three hours before you're due on your watch and there's a lot for us to accomplish."
"There is?" Vila asked, baffled as he sat down. Had he forgotten some plan or chore?
Avon's smile broke out in full radiance. "I'm afraid so. I had a rather uneventful shift, you see, and plenty of time to…think."
"Oh." Silence. "Oh," Vila repeated happily as he caught Avon's drift. Grinning with delight, he dug into his breakfast.
"In fact there's so much to do, we'll probably have to finish it when you come back from your shift."
"Slave driver," Vila mumbled as he chewed a mouthful of food. "Sounds like you plan to work me to death." He swallowed and then looked Avon right in the eye. "But you know," he said reflectively, "I can't think of a better way to go."
* * * * *
Blake returned to his cabin, shocked by his actions. What had gotten into him? This overpowering desire for Avon had nearly ended in disaster. He had better get a hold of himself before he made the situation much worse than it already was. He still wanted Avon, but it was apparent he needed more control, more time, and perhaps more experience before he could manage to actually seduce the technician.
Avon had been somewhat receptive; of that he was sure. Maybe it would help if he waited and allowed Avon to get used to the idea. He could also use that time to get Avon to trust him. That was probably going to be difficult, but all ready he could see that there were ways to maneuver the wary technician into it.
Perhaps he could be refining his technique at the same time. He knew courting and seduction involved all sorts of subtle signs and signals. He couldn't remember how it all worked, of course, since his memory–wipe had destroyed that information, but perhaps with a willing partner who could also be a patient teacher, he would be able to reconstruct that part of his personality. It was ridiculous that he felt unsure at his age. Now that he recognized he had been avoiding his sexuality, he should be able to take steps to rebuild it.
Jenna was the obvious candidate for the job. She was incredibly attractive and had broadcasted her eagerness with a multitude of wistful, longing glances. It shouldn't take much to catch her eye and more, even if he did somehow manage to mess up some of the cues.
As he thought about it, Blake decided that Jenna would be the easiest part in a campaign that would take months to complete. He was going to have to be careful about Avon, but he was determined to try again, no matter how long it took.
* * * * *
Months passed and the crew of the LIBERATOR settled down to comfortable and stable crew dynamics. Blake argued with Avon during the day and made love to Jenna at night. Avon bristled and growled at all, officially keeping everyone at a distance, but in private with Vila he relaxed and allowed his unguarded self to emerge, feeling himself safe with his chosen companion. Cally befriended all, as did Gan. When he finally met his end on Earth, everyone on board keenly felt his loss.
Blake was particularly disturbed by Gan's death, for he felt responsible. His obsession with Control had driven him to make some unsound decisions, but how could he now stop when he was hot on the trail of Star One and when the price he'd paid was already too costly? If he stopped, Gan's death would be meaningless and all the times he had risked the others' lives would be shown up as reckless endangerment. He had to go on.
Time was running out and he felt that a major change was soon to occur. If he didn't win his war soon, he was beginning to believe that he never would. His impatience had taught him that ruthlessness was necessary for it could shorten conflicts — and those conflicts were proving too costly to maintain.
Star One wasn't the only obsession to plague Blake either. He had not forgotten about Avon. For nearly a year he had curbed himself, waiting for a clue from Avon that he might be more receptive. During that time, he had sensed a slight change in him, but it was, unfortunately, inconsistent in nature. The moody computer expert ran hot and cold when it came to his relationship with Blake.
Two things had happened recently to renew Blake's intentions. One was Blake's impending sense of a coming crisis, and the other was Avon's recent show of concern and affection toward Vila.
After the ship had left Freedom City, Avon and Vila had seemed closer yet, frequently sharing looks of amusement and understanding. Blake knew that they had been up to no good on Freedom City and he felt resentment of Vila for corrupting such a pristine intellect like Avon's with his petty, larcenist ways.
And when Vila and Jenna were captured on Goth, Avon's wrath had been as impressive as his worry had been raw and complete. It had triggered Blake's jealousy again, but this time it was tinged with anger.
It just wasn't right that he wanted and longed for Avon when all Avon cared about was an insignificant Delta. What did he see in Vila? "Willing, good in bed and undemanding," is what Avon himself had said. Willing and undemanding didn't sound that beguiling so perhaps it was what Vila did in bed that had captivated the computer technician. Gods, he wanted to know what was so special about the thief that Avon would prefer Vila to himself!
A strange, uneasy desire began to grow in Blake. He wanted to punish Vila for keeping Avon to himself and he wanted to get back at Avon for refusing him.
* * * * *
LIBERATOR was on course for Star One speeding as fast as possible, but even then the trip was going to take a day. If Blake was going to do something, it would have to be soon. The stress of his decision to destroy Star One, coupled with his obsession and frustration with Avon was pushing him into dark and dangerous grounds. He had thought about Avon for over a year and yet nothing had happened between them. The same could be said about his fight with the Federation — too much thinking and not enough action. Wars were won by fighting battles and taking chances, not by waiting around for the other side to give up.
Well, the time for thought was at an end. Action was needed on both fronts.
He was on the flight deck now, watching the stars on the main view screen as they slowly spun past, the edge of the galaxy drawing near. Avon was on watch, but his shift would soon be over. If Avon followed his usual habit, he would be leaving to meet Vila in his cabin. The technician seemed impassive but Blake could sense his impatience. He stared at the technician.
So Avon's hot, is he, and anxious to bed his little toy? Well, not tonight, you cold–hearted bastard. You can just suffer like I've been doing for the past year. Blake would have his revenge tonight.
Within a minute, Avon became aware that someone was watching him and he looked up. Blake's expression unsettled him and he stared back, uncertain. Now that he had Avon's attention, Blake purposefully got to his feet. Slowly, deliberately, he looked away and left the flight deck.
Avon watched him go, uneasy and puzzled. Eventually, he shrugged it off, attributing Blake's strange behavior to the recent high levels of stress.
He settled back to wait for Jenna's arrival. She was consistently prompt and would be there in just a matter of seconds.
* * * * *
Blake made his way to the crew quarters, intent on finding Vila. As he turned the corner toward Avon's cabin, he was pleased to find Vila walking toward him. He smiled.
Vila, on the other hand, knew trouble when he saw it and decided immediately that he didn't like the way Blake looked. He had been wary of the rebel leader after his run–in with him in the galley over a year ago, but when nothing else had happened, his cautiousness had faded. As he looked at Blake now, he thought he recognized that expression from before. Vila made a quick decision to walk on past Avon's cabin and past Blake, hoping to avoid any unpleasantness.
Blake stepped in front of him, causing him to stop.
Vila looked up nervously. "Uh, hi Blake."
"Vila. I need your help with something."
"Oh, yes?" Vila asked worriedly.
"Yes," Blake repeated firmly. "In my cabin."
Vila feIt his stomach give a slow, queasy roll. He didn't like this at all.
"Er," he started, intending to refuse.
Blake's eyes glittered dangerously.
Wrong answer, Vila decided. He was familiar with Blake's expression — its chilling intensity. He'd seen it many times before on men who were frustrated and angry. Long ago, Vila had gotten used to submitting to angry men who were full of sexual frustration and a desire to dominate someone, anyone, to try to regain a sense of control when they themselves were powerless. It hadn't been healthy or wise to refuse them. He was disappointed, though. He never would have expected this from Blake.
Staring up at Blake, he quickly considered the situation. He sensed no affection from Blake, just the anger, frustration and a powerful need. Blake was under a lot of stress lately and it looked as if he had decided on a course of action — and Vila was it.
It's not as if I don't like him, thought Vila. Besides, it was a cornerstone of Vila's philosophy that a romp in the sack could cure just about anything — and Blake looked like he really needed something along those lines.
But that didn't quell the apprehension that Vila felt when Blake moved closer to him. Blake had always made Vila feel a little uneasy, particularly when they were alone. The thief had put it down to Blake's natural air of authority and his own natural aversion to any sort of authority.
Blake kept a close watch on Vila's face as he leaned forward and slid his arm behind the thief's shoulders. "You know what I want, don't you?"
Vila nodded.
Blake's hand moved up to the nape of Vila's neck and tightened, drawing the thief closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Avon walk into view and then freeze.
Perfect, he thought as he maliciously kissed Vila full on the mouth. Demandingly, he deepened the kiss and roughly pulled the thief to him. His free hand dropped down to cup Vila's ass, squeezing him hard as he slowly moved the flesh in a circular fashion.
Blake turned slightly and snuck a look at Avon. The computer tech had turned pale, his stony expression giving way obvious hurt and shock.
Good! thought Blake as he twisted forward. He looked back at Vila and was relieved to see his eyes closed. Blake slipped his hand inside Vila's waistband and worked it down until his thumb and forefinger were wedged between the buttocks. He wiggled them deeper as he thrust his tongue further into Vila's mouth.
He looked up again and was treated to the sight of Avon quickly disappearing around the corner. Victorious, he ended the kiss, feeling a great surge of cold satisfaction well up in him. He had meant to hurt Avon and now he had accomplished that. All that remained was to finish the act of taking Vila from him, even if it was just for one night.
"Let's go," he said as he kept one hand on Vila's shoulders and steered the thief towards his room.
Once there, he dropped his hold and stepped back. A portion of his mind knew what he had to do to finish extracting his revenge on both Avon and Vila, but another part was suddenly unsure that his was what he really wanted.
No, that wasn't true. I want Avon, damn it, but I'll settle for Vila.
The pause made Vila nervous. Timidly, he asked, "What would you like?" He didn't quite understand Blake's sudden switch from amorous octopus to distant observer.
Blake, hearing the shy words and faced with the immediacy of what he was about to do, felt a pang of guilt. It was plain that Vila knew it was going to be one–sided, yet, at the same time, Blake felt a thrill at the idea of sex without responsibility and at the offer of Vila's willingness to do anything he wished. The desire to exert complete control of another human being flooded him, intoxicating him with a sense of power.
Does Avon have this same feeling every time he fucks Vila? Is this what attracts him?
Vila was still waiting for instructions, so Blake let his imagination roam. It came back to the same subject. Well, why not?
"I want you to do to me what you do to Avon," he commanded.
Vila looked startled. So that's what this is all about? Bloody–typical Alpha games! Well, if he was to be allowed that much leeway, he was going to choose something that left him some control of the situation, even if it meant more participation on his part.
He knelt down and reached for Blake's zipper.
Blake took a half a step back. "No."
At Vila's questioning look, he ordered, "Take your clothes off first. I want to see you."
Vila shrugged and stood. Even though he was complying with Blake's demands, he didn't feel cooperative enough do a striptease. He pulled off his clothes and tossed them to the floor. Completely naked he looked up for further instructions.
Blake was breathing a little faster. "Turn around," he ordered. "Slowly."
Feeling just as exposed mentally as he was physically, Vila did as requested.
"All right. Back here now," said Blake, gesturing to a spot at his feet.
Vila knelt down in front of him and with one hand massaging Blake's inner thigh, he used the other to free Blake's all ready hardened penis. He steadied the base and brought his lips up to kiss the organ. After a few delicate and ticklish licks to the sides, Vila engulfed it with his mouth and began sucking as he moved his head back and forth.
Blake arched under Vila's touch. He closed his eyes and imagined that it was Avon's mouth that was giving him this exquisite feeling. His hand caressed the top of the thief's head. As the sensation increased, his fingers tightened, gripping the fine hair, urging the willing mouth to go further, to move faster.
* * * * *
Avon stood as still as stone in the center of the rest room. He had fled there, seeking its privacy, but now the room was forgotten as he stared sightlessly ahead, all of his attention inward as he struggled with his raging emotions. He had started out numb, shocked by what he had seen. He had had no warning of this, this…betrayal. Anger surged up, filling him with its blinding intensity.
There had been no mistake as to Vila and Blake's intentions, damn them. In Avon's mind, he replayed the sight of Blake's hand roaming possessively over Vila's body, trespassing into intimate places, places that were Avon's alone to explore and delight in.
He grew jealous as he remembered the details: Blake's aggressive kiss, Vila's body pressed tightly to Blake's, Vila's hands moving up to…to…. What had his hands been doing? Avon frowned as he tried to remember. When he did recall, it felt like he'd been hit in the face with a bucket of ice water.
Vila's hands had been hanging quietly at his side.
But that couldn't be right because Vila's hands were never still. It had taken Avon a while, but he had finally gotten used to the thief's constant touching — from the feathery light strokes that could drive Avon to distraction, to the decisive an skillful manipulations of a full body massage. The thief seemed addicted to tactile stimulation.
Yet Vila's hands had been still and that meant Vila hadn't been participating. Which probably meant that Vila hadn't been that willing. Which meant that Blake—
Avon recoiled from the thought. Blake forcing Vila? he thought, horrified. In reply, his mind quickly supplied another memory, of himself, nearly naked and held immobile by Blake while the other man kissed him with selfish passion. Oh, yes, Blake could do that.
As Avon considered the facts, a cold, sick anger settled in his stomach. Blake had only been out of Avon's sight for a few minutes before Avon had come across him kissing Vila in the corridor outside of Avon's own door. It was obvious that Blake had wanted for Avon to see him with Vila. The rest of it fell into place and Avon knew he was right. Blake was just using Vila to get revenge on Avon for refusing his advances.
Avon glanced at his chronometer. It had taken him a little over five minutes to figure it out. What would they be doing now? Was it too late to try and stop things? Or maybe he should just try to pretend it wasn't happening?
Like hell he would! Vila was his and he was going to reclaim him, no matter how far they had gotten. Damn Blake and his manipulative ways! Here they were speeding toward Star One to destroy it and millions of people in the process for the 'greater good of humankind', yet Blake was busy abusing his own crewmate for a very personal and selfish reason.
Avon whirled around and sped out of his cabin. He ran down the corridor and skidded to a halt outside of Blake's door. Without preamble, he activated the door and stepped inside.
Vila, kneeling naked at Blake's feet, heard his entrance and moaned, pulling away from Blake. Blake's grip tightened on his hair and forced him back, making him take most of his penis into his mouth. He held him there while he stared at Avon.
"Avon. I don't believe I heard you knock," he said, belligerently.
Avon's eyes darkened dangerously as they took in the situation. He walked forward, slowly, until he was only a foot away. "That's right, you didn't."
Blake tilted his head slightly to one side as he said, "Two sets of rules, Avon?" He gave Vila's head a little shake until the thief resumed sucking him. Blake guided the head back and forth, challenging Avon with a cool look.
Avon's hand flashed out and he gripped the hand on Vila's head, stilling all movement. He stared Blake in the eye. "You don't even want him, do you?"
"Are you volunteering to take his place?"
Avon smiled toothily. "On my knees in front of you? Seems unlikely, doesn't it?"
Blake rankled at the rejection. "Then what are you here for, Avon? Do you want to share him?" he taunted. "You could take him in the ass while I fuck him in the mouth. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Anger flared in Avon. "He's not a whore. Don't treat him like one," he said icily.
"He sleeps with you and yet here he is — with me."
Avon suddenly realized that Blake wasn't going to give up Vila unless he got something in return. The pieces were all in play and it was plain this game was only going to end one way. Well, if that's what was going to happen, Avon was determined to make it happen on his terms. Two could play at this game. He lifted his eyebrow and tilted his head. "The same could be said of me."
Blake paused, unsure of what he meant.
Avon took a step closer and leaned up against Blake, pressing their lips together. Stunned, Blake did not resist when Avon pulled his hand off of Vila's head and nudged the thief away. Avon took hold of Blake's organ and gently began to pump its moist length.
Blake groaned and slipped his hands around the technican. His tongue urged forward until Avon opened his mouth to allow for a deep kiss. As their tongues fought for superiority, their passion suddenly reached flashpoint, consuming all until they were only aware of each other, and for their desire for each other.
Blake lowered his hands and fumbled hastily at the fastenings on Avon's trousers. One–handed, the technician tried to brush away Blake's hands. He was far too involved to stop, but he was trying to keep some control over the situation and force Blake to do things his way. Right now, he didn't want to be undressed; he wanted to keep something, even if it was only clothing, between him and Blake.
But the big man was not to be so easily deterred and he blocked Avon's hand. Impatient that the fastenings were proving so resistant, Blake grabbed hold and ripped the fabric apart, shoving the trousers down in the process until they were past Avon's hips. He shifted his grip then and seized his partner, clutching him close as he maneuvered them over to the bed. The kiss ended as, off balance, they half–fell across the bed.
Unseen by either of them, Vila quietly left the room.
Pausing in their struggle, Blake looked Avon in the eye and whispered hoarsely, "I want you, Avon. Please."
The technican stared back, then shook his head ever–so–slightly.
Blake groaned, "Damn you!" He levered himself off to the side and attempted to turn Avon onto his stomach.
Avon felt a flash of panic and twisted back around, curling an opposing arm and leg about Blake, locking them together face to face. He dug his other hand between them until he was able to grasp both their erections and press them together.
Blake wriggled about for a second or two before he realized just how well Avon had him captured. He stopped and they regarded each other with flushed faces and dilated eyes.
"All right, Avon," Blake conceded with a small smile. "I'll take it anyway I can."
He bent down again, crushing their mouths together with bruising force as he pushed hard against Avon. Hips and groins ground back and forth as their pleasure built. Their fervor was too sudden and intense to be maintained for long. Blake bucked and arched, climaxing. Avon's senses overloaded and he immediately followed, clasping Blake to him.
They stayed that way, slowly regaining their awareness and relaxing in the afterglow until Avon recovered enough to realize he was having difficulty breathing. He prodded at Blake, finally pushing the heavy weight off. Blake rolled onto his side and reached to draw Avon close, but the computer tech stiffened.
"Avon?" he questioned dazedly.
Semen, feeling cool and sticky, had dampened Avon's stomach and shirt. He looked at Blake and felt no desire, only tiredness. So it has finally come to this.
Avon sat up, suddenly wishing to be in his room, alone.
"I'm leaving," he stated. He slid off the bed and stood, pulling his trousers up as best he could. He finally settled on pulling his shirt down over the torn fabric, hiding the damage.
Blake stared at him, not knowing what to say, but realizing that the delicate balance between them had been destroyed. Avon felt the silence and glanced over at Blake, unflinchingly meeting his gaze. The quiet stretched until Avon turned abruptly and left.
As the door slid shut behind him, Blake rolled over and ran his hand up through his hair. His fingers clenched, pulling a handful of curls tight.
"Avon," he moaned despairingly.
* * * * *
Avon lay in bed, freshly showered and clothed in pajamas. The room was dark and he found the quiet soothing as he collected his thoughts. He analyzed what had happened, Blake's actions and his own reactions, and what he felt about it all.
He had enjoyed it. Hell, he had had little choice; the desire had been so overwhelming. But now he regretted it, knowing it to be a mistake, knowing it had damaged his relationship with Blake. Avon needed his independence and freedom and Blake would never let well enough alone now. He would try to strengthen and make permanent this new hold over him. Avon would have to throw up more walls and grow more distant to counter it. Unless he did, he would have to surrender to Blake, accepting and living with Blake's faulty idealism, committing himself to a suicidal existence for a set of morals he did not believe in.
And he couldn't do that. No matter how great the sex had been, it wasn't worth dying for. He had to get out while there was still time, gambling that whatever risk he was taking was worth the advantage he would gain. The bet was his life, but the LIBERATOR was the prize.
Damn it! If only he hadn't gone to Blake's room. If only Vila had been where he was supposed to….
Vila.
Avon sat up, cursing himself. How could he have forgotten Vila? Granted, he was tired and felt the need for solitude, but in a few hours they would be at Star One. If he was going to see Vila, it would have to be now, and God only knew what sort of state the thief was in after that fiasco in Blake's room.
He gave a heavy sigh and left.
He hesitated outside of Vila's door. There wasn't time for niceties, not if it meant risking their last chance to be together. He opened the door and walked into the dimly lit room. The door sealed behind him.
Vila lay in bed, under the covers. He glanced at Avon and rolled onto his side, facing the wall.
"What do you want, Avon?" His voice was bitter, flat.
"I came by to see how you are," Avon said as he walked up and sat on the edge of the bed. He rested his hand on Vila's shoulder.
Vila jerked away. "Well, now that you've seen, you can go back…back to Blake."
"Vila. You know that I didn't want that to happen."
"That's true, but you sure enjoyed it once it did," he accused.
It was silent while Avon considered his answer to that. Finally, he side stepped it. "I went to Blake's room because I was looking for you. My purpose was to find you and bring you out."
Vila rolled over onto his back and stared at Avon. "It's nothing but a game to you Alphas, isn't it? I'm little more than a passing fancy for you until something better comes along. I'm not stupid, you know. You two were just using me to get at each other."
"It was never a game to me, Vila, and I'm sorry you were caught in the middle."
Avon's apology stole some of the wind from Vila's sails. He knew Avon was speaking the truth and he suppressed the urge to strike back at him since he was the nearest target.
He was only partly successful, though and he muttered, "I guess I have to thank you for that, for sparing me from being shared as the bit in the middle."
"That's because I don't want to share you with anyone." Avon held out his hand, open, waiting.
Vila grimaced. "You think you're going to get out of it this easy, eh?"
Avon gave a small, slightly playful smile. "Well now, I'm relying heavily on the fact that you would usually rather make up than to continue to fight."
"You arrogant sonofa—"
Avon interrupted him. "I believe the term is 'bloody, arrogant Alpha'," he corrected, his smile widening.
Vila stared at him. "You're impossible. I don't know why I put up with you," he said, shaking his head. Avon waited patiently, expectantly.
"To hell with it!" Vila said as he clasped Avon's hand with a firm, strong grip and pulled him into the bed. There was a short tussle as the blankets were rearranged to cover them both.
When they were settled, they lay comfortably together in each other's arms. Vila snuggled closer.
"I suppose it's too much to ask?" he said with just a touch of wistfulness as he wiggled suggestively against Avon.
Avon sighed. "Vila, I'm sorry; I don't think I can."
lt was Vila's turn to sigh. "I was afraid of that"
After a pause, Avon said, "Maybe later."
Vila nuzzled into the hair near Avon's ear. "Anyway, this is nice," he murmured. He blew gently.
The sensation made Avon shiver. "Yes, it is," he conceded. "But that tickles."
"I know. There's no harm in trying, is there? Who knows what may show up?"
Avon smiled. "Ever the optimist." He shifted until he could kiss Vila. It was lingering, gentle, and altogether sensuous. "You're welcome to keep trying, but I make no promises."
Vila's hands were busy again. "That's all right, Avon. I don't mind spending the next few hours like this." He kissed Avon, letting his sensitive fingers trace the contours of his partner's back. The kiss ended and he hugged Avon, reveling in the comforting warmth of his lover's body. "No. I don't mind it at all."
END