Change of Pace

       The water was comfortably hot, the air steamy. Kerr Avon leaned his head against the edge of the pool and let the tensions flow out of him, concentrating on nothing but the moment. On Liberator, holidays were rare, and holidays that allowed him solitude away from the ship rarer still, like precious gems. He had come down to Safferin grimly determined to enjoy himself at all costs.

       It had not been so very long ago that he had encountered Anna Grant, his long-lost love, miraculously restored to life, restored to treachery and deception, restored just long enough for him to kill her. He should have put it behind him with the cool self-interest he had long worked to perfect, but Anna wouldn't stay tidily buried. He had spent too much time agonizing over her memory, wallowing in maudlin sentiment, closing it away every time he caught himself, but letting it creep back. All that effort, all that suffering, and the little bitch hadn't been worth it.

       Women were treacherous, first Servalan and now his Anna. He wanted nothing to do with the lot of them, at least for now. In the back of his mind was Cally, who had never hurt him and never would, but he did not want Cally now. He could not bear her gentle support, and the memory of the all-too-few nights they had taken comfort from each other were too painful to contemplate. Cally would have come to him after Anna, in spite of his initial refusal to go to the aid of doomed Auron, but Avon did not want Cally now, for even Cally would have reminded him of Anna. That was the last thing he wanted; to taint Cally's strength and loyalty with memories.

       So he had eschewed women altogether, at least for the duration. Shore leave on Safferin was shore leave to be enjoyed, and Vila had set off to enjoy it, determined to make the most of the pleasure world. Cally and Dayna had gone off together and Tarrant had vanished, too, leaving Avon in sole possession of the ship. He had brought Orac to the teleport, given the computer detailed and explicit instructions to cover every possible contingency in his absence on this non-Federated world, and teleported down himself.

       The baths of Safferin were galaxy famous. Avon had always meant to take advantage of them someday, but now, he studied them carefully and made his selection with due thought.

       The baths were vast, and divided into three categories: male, female and mixed. Avon chose to avoid the mixed bathing. He knew as well as anyone that brief liaisons were often the result of bathing here, and the last thing he wanted to do was enter into another relationship with a woman, no matter how brief and meaningless. He could have had a solitary bathing chamber, and he considered it, but he did not want solitude, exactly. Here, where he and everyone else was anonymous, he wanted brief human comfort, and since he was determined to avoid women for the duration, he went to the communal male baths, quite happy with the thought of a possible liaison arising there. It had been some months since he had slept with another man, and the idea was not unpleasant.

       Of course Vila would have obliged him. The thief was always willing, and Avon had more than once taken advantage of that willingness. Vila was skilled and hedonistically enjoyed his pleasure, and Avon might have formed an ongoing relationship except that he feared the thief might come to take it too seriously, and Avon wanted no ties on Liberator. No ties, not with Vila, not with Blake. But Blake had gone, without once expressing any interest in such ties, and Avon, who found himself resenting it without being willing to explore his resentment, convinced himself that he had never wanted Blake. Quite deliberately he had consoled himself with Jenna a time or two, but nothing further had come of it.

       Now he sat in the baths wondering if he would find company for the night. It didn't do to think of Blake. But this was the type of place Vila might come, and if Avon encountered him, he would be glad. If not, something else might occur .

       But several hours produced nothing but a few tentative advances that amounted to nothing. Finally he took himself out of the water, retrieved his towel and robe and started down the corridor to his room, pulling the sash tight about his waist. It was not his way to parade about the corridors naked.

       But it seemed that others were not so cautious. Coming around a bend, he collided with a naked man, clad only in a towel draped over his shoulders. He must have been in one of the other pools, perhaps a private one, for his hair was wet, curls dripping down across his forehead, and his flesh gleamed damply in the pinkish light.

       "Avon!"

       "Tarrant," he said without enthusiasm, staring at the other man.

       Tarrant had long been an annoyance to him, but perversely, Avon discovered he wanted company, even if it was Tarrant. He had come here to find companionship for the night, though he'd never considered Tarrant in that category before.

       He considered him now. Dripping wet and completely bare, Tarrant was virtually a stranger, someone he didn't quite know. He stood back a pace and ran his gaze up and down the other man's body. Yes, quite promising. Once again meeting Tarrant's eyes, he saw realization flash there. Tarrant understood the look completely. Now to judge his reaction to it.

       "What, alone?" the pilot asked brightly, pulling the towel off his shoulders and mopping his face, then rubbing some of the moisture from his hair. His muscles ran smoothly beneath the skin.

       " As you can see," Avon returned. "So are you, it seems."

       "Yes. Pity, isn't it?" Tarrant's teeth flashed. What a lot of them he had. "I didn't see you in the pool."

       "There's a smaller one back that way. I was looking for...something to occupy my time."

       "Indeed? Coincidence, surely. So was I."

       They faced each other measuringly. A twinkle touched the younger man's eyes. "My room's just here," he said, pointing to a nearby door. "I've a bottle of champagne."

       "I shouldn't have expected you to have such good taste."

       "Ah, but then you don't really know me that well. I am an Alpha. I learned early to enjoy my pleasures when they came." He keyed open the door and stood back, waving Avon in with a sweeping gesture.

       The older man hesitated an instant, then with a little shrug, he preceded Tarrant into the room. "For once, I find myself in agreement with you. An historic occasion."

       Tarrant grinned, waved at the ice bucket and glasses, and said, "Pour us something."

       While Avon did, he toweled himself dry but didn't bother to dress. Taking the glass Avon passed him, he raised it in a toast. "To holidays," he said brightly.

       "Holidays," Avon agreed and drank.

       "I don't know about you," said the curly-haired man, setting aside his glass, "but small talk bores me. We both came here for the same thing. Shall we proceed?"

       "An excellent idea." Avon loosed his robe and tossed it onto a chair. He toweled his damp hair then flung the towel on the floor, stepping forward and pulling Tarrant against him, covering the other man's mouth with his own.

       He had expected some degree of arousal to follow the act, but he hadn't expected it to be so immediate and so intense, nor had he expected Tarrant to respond so fiercely. Mouths opened, tongues began to duel, and only moments later, bodies were pressing together , straining for closer contact. Still somewhat damp from their time in the pool, they felt hot to each other, and the flesh clung where it met, creating an intriguing friction.

       Breathless, they pulled back and looked at each other. "Well, well," Avon purred, "I see I have been ignoring a considerable resource."

       "So have I," Tarrant agreed. He put his hand on Avon's chest and stroked down it in a light touch that had fire running behind it. By the time he reached Avon's groin, he already felt himself responding.

       Avon's hips jutted forward to meet the pilot's hand. The fire burst into flame and he drew in his breath sharply and copied the gesture. Tarrant hardened under his touch.

       Impatiently, Tarrant stripped the covers back and they tumbled onto the bed. In the first moments they touched each other everywhere, stroking and exploring, testing responses, but soon they wanted more. Avon pulled Tarrant on top of him, and they lay together, settling into position, cock against cock. His hands found the younger man's hips and he urged him to move.

       "That's good," Tarrant replied, beginning to stroke his body against Avon's. "That's really good, Avon." Moaning, he arched against him again and again.

       Avon enjoyed sex this way. He'd always found it satisfying because the reaction was an equal one; he could judge how his partner was feeling, could maneuver and demand responses based on his own state of arousal. Now he gripped his partner's buttocks and pulled him closer against him, as his hips pumped up. The arousal had come too quickly to last long, but there was the whole night before them. This way to start them, and then, other pleasures to explore.

       His breathing grew quicker as the delicious friction drove him closer and closer to the edge. Tarrant was moaning helplessly, his body rocking back and forth as he ground his hips against Avon's. "Avon, wait. Avon," he gasped, though he made no attempt to slow his frantic pace. "Want it to last."

       "Don't stop," Avon half snarled. "Next time, it will last far longer ." He suspected that, like himself, Tarrant had been waiting hopefully in his own pool, planning physical gratification, and that he had been so ready it would have taken little effort to rouse him.

       "I don't think I can stop," Tarrant responded. "Oh, god, yes," he groaned as Avon pulled him closer and strained his whole body up as if to make them join through their very skin. "Next time - I'll...hold you to that."

       "I'll expect it," Avon replied, then he became too caught up in the pleasure to talk other than breathless gasps and bits of nonsense. He arched again, again, and felt himself explode, a hot wetness spreading between them.

       Tarrant gasped as he felt it, and he began to move frantically, coming only seconds later. They clung together until the spasms ebbed, then the pilot rolled over onto his back and lay gasping for air.

       After what felt like a long time, Avon propped himself up on one elbow and looked at his lover. "Promising," he muttered with a faint smile. He ran one finger down the other man's chest, smiling broadly when Tarrant sucked in his breath at the caress. Idly, the tech began to trace patterns in the drying semen, moving ever closer to Tarrant's shaft.

       After the first startled moment, Tarrant shifted closer, welcoming the touch. "I want you again," he said.

       "Excellent."

       "Slow, this time," reminded the pilot.

       "Oh, yes, very slow." Avon felt a quiver of response beginning to build in him at the thought of it. He leaned over, retrieved his damp towel and cleaned them up a little, hearing Tarrant's sharp intake of air at the cloth's rough texture against his penis. Smiling, Avon passed the towel to him and lay back, allowing the pilot to return the favor. Closing his eyes, he reveled in the sensations his partner was beginning to arouse as he cleaned him up with slow strokes.

       When Tarrant tossed aside the towel and replaced it with his hand, Avon didn't open his eyes. He let the young man stroke him, up and down his chest and belly, down the tops of his legs, up the insides of them, slowly coaxing them to part a little. Curious, Avon let himself go with it, deriving too much physical gratification to stop the man. Feather touches on his inner thighs made his stomach quiver, then he gasped as Tarrant began to trace patterns on his testicles. It felt wonderful.

       "Do you like that?" Tarrant asked in a lazy, seductive voice.

       "It isn't something I'd reject," Avon replied, slitting his eyes open and watching Tarrant. The younger man was bent over him, intent on his caresses. As Avon watched, he bent still further and blew gently on the tip of Avon's cock. Avon jerked in reaction.

       "Suck it," he ordered.

       "Eventually." Tarrant grinned and traced over the length of it with a fingertip, so lightly Avon could scarcely feel it - but it made his hips lift in eager response.

       "Ah, you like that." Tarrant smiled. "What about this?" He blew gently once more, then he began to touch it gently with his tongue, little lapping motions that made Avon squirm, wanting more, wanting something that he couldn't wait for. He moaned, resisting the urge to grab Tarrant and force his mouth down. It was tantalizing. It was driving him crazy. He arched up in a sudden frenzy, too caught up in the pleasure to worry about anything else.

       Tarrant's mouth enveloped him suddenly, surrounding him in heat. With lips and tongue, he coaxed Avon's response, wooing it, driving the tech frantic. Avon lost track of time, of his location, of everything but the pleasure and the need that Tarrant was creating.

       When he started to come too close to climax, Tarrant backed off a little, his hand at the base of the shaft. "Not yet," he murmured.

       "Damn you," Avon cried, arching up against his hand, too aroused to deny his need.

       "Give me your hand." Tarrant took it without waiting for Avon to comply. Guiding it to his own body, he curled Avon's fingers around his own cock. The tech began to stroke him automatically, enjoying the younger man's gasp and moan as he responded. Tarrant was as aroused as he was, and all that without being touched. Suddenly Avon wanted to bring him to climax, to make him plead with Avon to bring him to his orgasm, but even more, he wanted to force him down on the bed and take him.

       He backed off a little. "How well equipped are these rooms?"

       Tarrant was still gripping Avon's wrist but at the question, he let it go and reached over to the bedside table. "I think there's something here. I was snooping around earlier." His breath caught as Avon stroked him, but he produced a tube of lubricant and popped the cap off. He had to let go of Avon to squeeze some onto his hands, but a moment later, he was back again, stroking the liquid onto Avon's shaft. It was cool, but Tarrant's fingers were hot, and the contrast was sharply arousing. Avon writhed beneath the touch, fighting for control.

       He retrieved the tube from Tarrant, who turned onto his belly, settling himself. Avon squeezed a little of the liquid onto Tarrant's buttocks, then, very carefully began to probe with a questing finger. There was a little resistance, but once a second finger joined the first, Tarrant seemed to welcome it. His experience was obvious in the way he moaned and pressed back against the tantalizing fingers. Avon fleetingly wondered who had initiated Tarrant into these delightful rites.

       But rational thought was deserting him. His own need was so intense he could wait no longer. He settled himself in place and began to enter, grunting with pleasure as he felt himself sheathed. Tarrant was hot and tight around him, and he squirmed a little, getting comfortable. He moaned, then, unable to wait any longer, began to move. Tarrant cried out, but there was no pain in his voice, only pleasure. He bucked up to meet Avon's thrust, driving the tech still deeper, and Avon discovered his control was gone.

       The universe contracted around him, centering on the sensations as he pounded into his partner again and again. He couldn't hold back little cries of pleasure and made no attempt to try, conscious of Tarrant's eager response to his thrusts and his endless repetition of Avon's name and demands that Avon not stop.

       As Avon had no intention of stopping and probably could not have done even if he'd tried, he ignored that bit of frivolity and pressed tight again and again.

       When climax finally came, it lasted forever, so good it was almost painful. He clung to the other man as his body seemed to turn itself inside out. He was only dimly aware of Tarrant's hoarse cry of release beneath him.

       Eventually the world came back and he withdrew from Tarrant and stretched out beside him. He was completely sated, exhausted but comfortable, and there was nothing in his memories that disturbed him. It might come back later - he was sure it would - but for now, he was content. When Tarrant rolled over onto his side and wrapped his arms around Avon, he let with his own for a kiss that held the promise of what was to come.

       "I prefer to do what I do as well as possible."

       "Then shall we display your expertise in the pool - in a few hours?"

       Avon opened his eyes again and saw Tarrant watching him." Agreed." He narrowed his eyes. "I should warn you that you can expect nothing from me but this. Liberator is still my ship, and I still am in charge. Push your luck and you will learn that, to your cost."

       "I never hesitated to push before," Tarrant replied. "I'm not making a commitment either, Avon. I would enjoy continuing with this, but not at the risk of becoming subservient to you."

       "Have I asked that?" Avon frowned. "I ask no more than your discretion. I value my privacy, Tarrant. Remember that."

       The pilot nodded in agreement. " As you can see, I'm rather good at keeping secrets." He didn't explain further, and the fact that he didn't was as much reassurance as he was likely to get. Avon relaxed a little, trying to recapture the peace he'd found so briefly.

       They watched each other coolly for a moment, then both fell asleep.

       Avon and Tarrant returned to Liberator separately, per agreement. As he materialized on the ship, to see Vila seated at the controls, looking very pleased with himself, Avon hid a smile of his own, knowing that if he allowed it, he might look as smug as the thief did.

       The pool had lived up to its promise, and Tarrant had displayed his skills yet again as their bodies joined once more. Avon still remembered the feel of Tarrant entering him, the way he had moved, the pressure of his exploring hands. It had been good, better than he had expected. When they had finally parted, Tarrant had paused at the door, before they left the pools behind and returned to the real world.

       "When would you like me to...er...exercise my discretion next?" he had asked brightly.

       "I see no reason for delay. The end of your late watch seems appropriate."

       Tarrant grinned broadly. "I think I just might manage that. Uh...your place or mine?"

       Avon had groaned at the cliche and before the pilot could react, tossed him bodily into the pool. "Yours." His own cabin had always been his own, a private place, and he had never brought a bed partner there. Once he had invited Blake in, but Blake had been obtuse and nothing had come of it. Blake. Damn him. "Mine," he corrected with a show of defiance at the absent Blake.

       "Whatever you say," Tarrant agreed as he emerged, dripping.

       Now Vila looked at Avon expectantly. "Well, Avon, you look quite human. Did you have a good time down there? What did you do, poke around in some boring old computers?"

       "Something like that," Avon retorted. " And yes, Vila, it was entirely satisfactory."

       "Wouldn't suit me," Vila said. "I had a lovely time. Went to the baths."

       Avon stiffened involuntarily, but his voice was cool as he said. "Indeed!"

       "Met a friend," the thief continued, sketching improbable dimensions for the unlikely female.

       Vila had doubtless been too busy to notice anyone else. Avon rather hoped so.

       "I saw Cally there," the thief continued.

       "Remarkably observant of you."

       "Oh, but I am observant," Vila grinned. "It was a wonderful shore leave. I think we should plan another sometime soon."

       "Perhaps we will," Avon replied with none of his customary scorn. He hadn't managed to forget Anna entirely, but the distraction had been considerable. "Perhaps we will."

       He left Vila staring after him speculatively and returned to his cabin. He didn't need shore leave. He might snatch further distraction right here. Wondering how long it would be before Vila started lobbying for another holiday, Avon decided to permit the thief to win with much less effort than usual.