EXILE, TAKE TWO

originally published in THE BIG B7 ZINE (1993)
a slash version, with permission, of the gen story "Exile" by Jennie McGrath, in WHOMSOEVER HOLDS THIS SWORD (1992)

        The base was nearly deserted. It was rather unsettling to see only two people between the shuttle hangar and command center. In his six months on Jahas he'd never known it to be so empty. Of course, the identity of one of the men he'd seen had caused no small amount of uneasiness in him.

        What in blazes was Vila doing here? The fact that the thief was here made him move through the base with more than his usual amount of caution. He did not wish to see Avon. Or rather, he did not wish to be seen by Avon. At least, not yet.

        Ah, Avon. Unbidden, memories of their one night together flashed through his mind. A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the intense heat of Avon's body as he'd held the technician close; the desperate intensity with which Avon had silently begged to be taken. With a determined effort, he banished such memories from his consciousness. There was no sense torturing himself with what he might have had. He'd promised himself that he would live in the present. Avon was not part of his current life. And, he admitted to himself, not likely to be part of his near future either.

        He entered the command center. It, too, was deserted. Swiftly, he completed his mission report, and left it on the appropriate desk. What to do now? He was not at all tired, and he certainly did not feel like spending the evening alone. Normally in such a situation, he would have gone to Jak's quarters for a friendly drink and a little conversation. One could always depend on the garrulous Beta for an entertaining visit. Unfortunately, Vila had no doubt sensed this immediately upon meeting Jak, as they were the two he'd seen earlier. Oh well, at least Vila would have a fun time tonight. No doubt the little thief needed a break. Life with Avon could be quite wearing, as he knew all too well.

        Aimlessly, he wandered down the corridor. Deciding that a drink might help settle his restlessness, Blake headed for the small rec area on the lower level. Perhaps he would find company there.

        He paused in the doorway, studying the stranger lounging on the sofa. Not bad...not bad at all. He surveyed the lean body stretched out before him and felt an unfamiliar pang of desire. This was undeniably an extremely attractive young man, and Blake found, he was not in the mood to deny himself this night. Suddenly, brilliant cobalt eyes turned to meet his steady gaze.

        "Hullo," said Blake, "mind if I join you?"

        A beatific smile appeared on the face before him, "Uh," the boy made a valiant effort to sit up, "no, of course I don't mind." Giving up the struggle, he settled back and gestured to a seat on the sofa. "Grab a drink and join me; I could use the company."

        Blake felt an assessing gaze follow him as he went over and mixed a drink for himself. Self—consciously, he sucked in his gut as he crossed to sit on the couch. He felt positively portly compared to the slender body of this man.

        He settled himself on the sofa, then turned to introduce himself, "I'm Chevron." As he had since leaving the Liberator, he used the alias he'd borrowed from Avon. Then he surprised himself by adding, "But my friends call me Roj."

        Ah...the boy was sharp. Blue eyes regarded him for a moment, measuring. The lids fluttered down, and a soft voice answered; "Nice to meet you, Roj." A finely boned hand reached to grasp his. "My name is Del." Butterflies erupted in his belly, as a coy look was directed his way through long lashes.

        Blake cleared his suddenly-tight throat. "So tell me, what brings you to Jahas?" He winced at the triteness of the question. Well, he excused himself, it had been a long time since he'd indulged in any flirting.

        "My partner and I are here on a supply run," Del answered.

        Uh oh. Blake swallowed. Partner? He made a show of looking toward the doorway. "Should I be expecting someone to join us?"

        A throaty chuckle greeted his question. "No, he's off drinking and carousing with someone named Jak."

        So, Avon was not here. This then, must be...

        Blake viewed the other man with dawning respect. He'd heard rumors of Avon's new pilot; heard that the man was a former Federation Space Captain. Most interesting...This youth had actually gained the position of pilot on Avon's beloved Liberator. Blake was fascinated.

        Del lifted his glass to his lips, draining it in one swallow. With a playful grin, he asked, "Ready?" indicating the liquor cabinet with a nod.

        "Always," he replied in kind. Settling back against soft cushions, he enjoyed the view as Del crossed the room on impossibly long legs. And at the top of those legs...Yes, he decided as the lithe figure returned, the scenery was equally delightful from either perspective.

        Holding the bottle of vodka aloft, Del spoke; "Why keep going all the way over there? I, for one, don't intend to be capable of walking much longer."

        Blake raised an eyebrow, "Then, perhaps we should consider retiring to more...suitable quarters?"

        "Mmmm," Del appeared to ponder the question. "Perhaps that would be best. Have you a particular destination in mind?" Offering a hand, he pulled Blake to his feet.

        "Actually," Blake wet his lips, leaned closer to the younger man. "I thought my room might be acceptable." He carefully pressed close to Del, meticulously fitting their bodies together from shoulder to hip. Caught his breath as soft lips moved to meet his in a shockingly sweet caress.

        Drawing back reluctantly, he met blue eyes filled with sure knowledge. Softly he traced full lips with his thumb. Heat seared him as Del opened those lips, tracing the length of his thumb with a limber tongue. His entire being leapt to attention, as he was sucked into the warm wetness of that wonderful mouth.

        "Yes," breathed Blake. Swiftly, he guided the eager young man out of the lounge, toward his quarters. It wouldn't do to have Vila, or anyone else for that matter, find him screwing this delightful boy through the floor. And that, he definitely intended to do, as thoroughly as he possibly could.

        Tarrant entered Chevron's quarters eagerly. It had been so long, so very long. He hadn't indulged this side of himself since joining the crew of Liberator. Oh, he suspected that Vila would be more than happy to accommodate him, if he so wished. The complications that might arise from such self indulgence, however, made the price too dear for him. He fully intended to enjoy this encounter, there was no telling how long it might be before another such opportunity arose...as it were.

        Chevron crossed the room; locating two glasses, he poured them each a generous measure of vodka. As he turned to hand one of the drinks to Tarrant, the pilot glimpsed a familiar object on the desktop. Brow furrowed, he moved closer. Chevron watched, with widening eyes, as Tarrant removed his teleport bracelet, placing it next to the one so casually displayed on the desk.

        He turned to meet guarded brown eyes. Smiling slightly, he leaned in for a kiss. "Relax, Blake," he murmured when the other man failed to respond. "This is for us alone. Let the rest of the world take care of itself...for this night."

        Blake held him back with massive hands on his upper arms. Tarrant met searching eyes openly, offering a warm smile, promising pleasure. The rebel remained tense for a moment longer, then relaxed and drew Tarrant close. "For tonight," he sighed.