THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

        "Well," Avon demanded impatiently. "Did you get it?"

        "Yeh," answered Vila sourly. "Here's your damned component. You better take good care of it. I, for one, will not go back there again!" Huffily, he placed his teleport bracelet back with the others. "Disgusting place, absolutely disgusting...Never again, wild horses..." Still muttering indignantly, Vila departed the teleport chamber, leaving Tarrant to face Avon's questioning stare.

        "Would you care to explain that, Tarrant?" Avon asked in an eminently reasonable tone.

        "Not particularly." Bracelet safely stowed, Tarrant made a move toward the corridor. And came to an abrupt halt when Avon stepped into his path. Fixing steely eyes on the pilot he waited, arms crossed.

        Mirroring Avon's posture, Tarrant returned the glare with equal menace: "Did Avalon happen to mention the curriculum of 'Dun's Finishing School for Boys'? You didn't, by any chance, know that Rik Dun supplies male whores to all the pleasure palaces in this quadrant?" He paused, taking a moment to bring his increasing indignation under control. "No? Well, then, I expect you'll say you didn't know that last night was graduation night either, hmmm? Ah, of course not. So, naturally, you would not be aware of any traditions connected with graduation from 'Dun's'."

        Tarrant leaned forward into Avon's space deliberately, forcing the older man to move back a step. "I don't suppose you have any knowledge regarding Vila's reaction to an offer of a night with the graduate of his choice?" If the expression of dawning horror on Avon's face was any indication, the tech knew exactly how Vila would react to such a proposition. "They were children, Avon," he added, obviously sickened by what he described, "just kids."

        "He didn't..." Avon's voice trailed away, unable to speak his suspicion aloud.

        "No, he managed to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged." Tarrant's mouth tightened into a grimace. "You'll no doubt be pleased to hear that he announced to all and sundry that he is married——to me." The blue eyes dared Avon to comment. "Not only are we married, I would kill him if he were to touch another. In order to save himself from my supposed jealous wrath, he then stayed in close physical contact with me the entire time we were down there. Avon, I've seen fear, but I have never seen anyone as terrified as Vila was today. What in the hell happened to him? And why was I not warned that he might react this way?"

        "I regret that you found yourself in that situation, Tarrant. I had no idea...Avalon gave me Rik Dun's name and location, no more. Had I known what kind of school it was, either Cally or myself would have accompanied you." With a sigh, Avon moved to the teleport console and sat. Blunt fingers roved over the buttons aimlessly.

        Tarrant watched in disbelief; Avon was fidgeting. "Why," he said softly, interrupting the others reverie, "why did Vila act that way?"

        Just as Tarrant decided his question was to be ignored, Avon spoke. "I'm sure you can imagine what he looked like as a boy." His hands had stopped moving, but Avon kept his eyes focused on the console before him. "He was an attractive child, with blonde hair, and delicate features." Abruptly, the tech rose, "I hope it will not be necessary for me to give details of what happens to pretty young boys in the Delta reformatory. Particularly to an Alpha youth who has been reclassified as a Delta grade due to incorrigibility."

        "Oh, shit," was all Tarrant could think to say. He watched in silence as Avon left the teleport chamber.

        He was on his feet headed for the door when he finally woke. More than a little befuddled, Tarrant paused. What, he wondered, had interrupted his sleep? Then he heard it: muffled shouts coming from the cabin next to his.

        Vila's quarters.

        Reacting instinctively, Tarrant rushed out of his cabin and over to Vila's door. He hit the lock release and entered just as an agonized scream erupted from the room's only occupant. Across the dimly-lit room he barely saw the shivering figure huddled atop the bed. Slowly, he approached, not wanting to startle the dreaming man.

        "Vila." Carefully, he laid a hand on the shoulder nearest him. "Vila, wake up."

        "NO...GET HIM OFF...HELP ME...SOMEBODY HELP ME!" Still trapped in a nightmare of horrific proportions, Vila shifted restlessly, apparently trying to dislodge his attacker. "NO. STOP...IT HURTS...DON'T HURT ME. PLEASE...DON'T."

        Tarrant felt tears rise in response to the suffering he beheld. He couldn't listen to this any longer. Roughly, he grabbed Vila's shoulders, pulling the thief to a sitting position. "Vila, wake up."

        Finally, Vila's eyes opened; he lifted his face to Tarrant's. "Help me," he whispered.

        "Hush." Tarrant sat on the bed's edge and leaned forward, gently gathering the shaking body into his arms. "You were having a dream, Vila. It's over."

        "No...it'll never be over. Never," Vila said. He snuffled, as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

        "It is over. That was years ago, Vila. Let it go. You have to get past it."

        Vila pressed his face into Tarrant's offered shoulder. Sullenly, he spoke, "What do you know about it?"

        "Enough. Too much."

        "Eh?" Puzzled, Vila drew back, searching Tarrant's face in inquiry. "Tarrant, what does that mean?" His abject terror faded into the background as his nimble mind tried to sort through the small clue he had been given.

        Tarrant frowned, shifting uncomfortably. "I—-" He cleared his throat and started again. "How old were you when you were reclassified, Vila?"

        "Thirteen; why?" His forehead wrinkled. "Hey, how'd you know about that?"

        "Never mind that now." Tarrant dismissed the question. "Old enough to know how cruel all boys are...Alpha and Delta alike. Did you go to boarding school?"

        "No, my father disapproved of sending young children away from their families." A soft smile of fond memory crossed his lips.

        "You were lucky, Vila. My parents packed me off to school when I was just seven." Vila felt a slight shiver run through the pilot's body and reached to embrace him. "The older boys..." He broke off with a choked sob.

        "Shhh, easy now." Vila found himself holding Tarrant's quaking body. Carefully, he lowered them both to a prone position on the narrow bed, murmuring soft nonsense all the while.

        Racked by shuddering sobs, Tarrant failed to hear the almost inaudible sound of Vila's cabin door sliding open. Vila looked up to meet Avon's questioning gaze. He'd known the tech would be here tonight. Avon always knew when the nightmares would come.

        Eyebrows raised in question, Avon waited just inside the doorway. Vila offered a weak smile and motioned him closer with one hand. "It seems that Tarrant and I have something in common after all," he said softly.

        At the sound of Vila's voice, Tarrant stiffened and raised his head. "Avon," he gasped, "what are you doing here?"

        "Don't ask questions, Tarrant. Here." Vila scooted over in the bed, trying to make room for Avon. "It'll be tight, but there's room for all of us."

        "Don't be more of an idiot than is absolutely necessary, Vila. Three of us will not fit on that bed!" Avon said. He met Vila's eyes for a moment, questioning. Apparently receiving the sought for answer, Avon nodded. "I'll meet you there." He turned and left the room.

        Completely bewildered by the exchange, Tarrant turned to Vila.

        "Blake's cabin has a larger sleep level than any of the others; we'll go over there. C'mon, get up!" he urged when Tarrant lay still, immobilized by shock.

        Finally, dazedly, Tarrant shifted, allowing Vila to climb to his feet. "Vila," the thief turned back to him, "please...what the hell is going on? Was that really Avon? And he...you...we're all supposed to sleep together?"

        Vila smiled gently, realizing that the emotional upheaval, followed by Avon's uncharacteristic behavior had further muddled an already overloaded brain. "Tarrant, my boy, you must learn to never underestimate Avon. He has depths of which even he is unaware. You and I aren't the only ones on this ship who've suffered sexual abuse. And we, Avon and I, have learned that when the memories come to haunt...Well, shared pain is easier to bear. And Avon, for all his stoicism, feels pain same as us." Vila held out a hand, pulled Tarrant up to his feet. The two men headed for the door together. "Oh," he warned, "don't ask Avon any questions tonight, and never, never speak of this to him."

        Tarrant merely nodded; speech was beyond him at the moment. He silently followed Vila to Blake's cabin. Upon entry, he beheld a most amazing sight; Avon laying comfortably, arms behind his head, calmly waiting their arrival.

        Tarrant watched numbly as Vila joined Avon. This night was getting stranger by the second. The title of a book he'd read as a boy popped into his mind..."Alice in Wonderland". A large white rabbit should be passing through at any moment. That would certainly seem no more unusual than Avon and Vila laying in bed together, expecting him to climb on in with them. And that was another thing...how had he ever ended up in a bed with Vila of all people? Hadn't he, in fact, gone to offer comfort to Vila? How, then, had he come to be crying in the thief's arms? Seen by Avon...Avon? It was too much——he closed his eyes hoping it would all just go away.

        "I refuse to sleep with Tarrant's buttons poking me all night."

        The pilot in question opened one eye, regarding Avon silently. Arms crossed on his chest, the tech lay there, at least half—naked——Tarrant could only see to waist level, his lower body was hidden under the covers——obviously waiting for Tarrant to remove the offending buttons from his sight. With a shrug, the younger man removed his sleepwear. If he weren't so tired...so confused, he would have gone back to his own cabin. It was so very lonely in there, though. He simply couldn't face the night alone with his memories.

        "All right then," Vila chirped, "who gets the middle?"

        Avon met Tarrant's frown with resigned amusement. "Very well," gracefully, he surrendered to the inevitable, "I expect those long arms would have pushed me onto the floor, anyway." With an economy of movement, Avon moved over, making room for Tarrant.

        "Aw, what the hell?" mumbled Tarrant as, he too climbed into the bed. "We're just one big happy family, right?" He felt a little left out, seeing Vila resting comfortably against Avon's side, head pillowed on the tech's shoulder. Avon followed Tarrant's eyes, glancing down at Vila. With a sigh, he put his other arm around Tarrant, pulling the pilot down to rest against his free shoulder.

        Surprisingly, he fell asleep immediately, oddly comforted by Avon's arm about him.

        How in the hell had a blast furnace gotten into his bed? Mumbling incoherently, Tarrant tried to shift away from the suffocating heat.

        It followed him. He rolled onto his side, and the warmth wrapped itself around his back. Damn!

        Opening his eyes, Tarrant attempted to sit up. He discovered, much to his surprise, that he was held virtually immobile by a strong arm wrapped around his waist.

        A strong male arm. Eyes slowly widening in disbelief, he watched as the hand attached to the enveloping arm slid up his torso, coming to rest on his left nipple. Closing his eyes tightly, he attempted to ignore the movement of clever fingers on his flesh. His body proved traitorous, however, and he felt the tightening as his nipple hardened in response to gentle pinches.

        Apparently satisfied with the results of its action, the hand then traveled up across his chest to the other breast. Tarrant found that while his body might not be always completely under his control, it was well aware of what it enjoyed. Before the fingers could repeat the gentle teasing, his nipple had hardened fully in anticipation of forthcoming pleasure.

        Dazed by the intense pleasure he derived from such a simple caress, Tarrant lay quietly enjoying the sensation. The arm strengthened around him, and the warmth behind him shifted closer. He stiffened in sudden shock as that damned hand dropped into his lap, grasping his erection firmly. In an attempt to ease the pressure at his aching groin he scooted back a bit, only to encounter a suspicious hardness pressed into his ass.

        Wide awake now, Tarrant struggled against the restraining arm. He sat up and turned to see who felt compelled to take such liberties with his sleeping body.

        Avon.

        Blinking in amazement, Tarrant directed a hard stare at the tech. He was somewhat dismayed to realize that the effort was a wasted one...Avon appeared to be deeply asleep.

        The hand, however, was most definitely not sleeping. It remained on his cock, tenderly stroking and squeezing him. Desperately close to what could be an extremely embarrassing reaction, Tarrant moved away again, out of the hand's reach.

        Breathing hard, he watched as a slight frown marred Avon's relaxed features. That hand reached out, seekingly. When it did not encounter lost warmth, Avon shifted restlessly. Fascinated, Tarrant watched the tech turn in the bed to wind himself around an unconscious Vila.

        Avon's movements did not seem to disturb the sleeping thief in the slightest. Smoothly, Vila made room for the tech, wrapping his arms around Avon and burying his face in soft hair with a contented sigh.

        Watching closely, Tarrant felt a pang of—-jealousy?—-as Avon's hand stroked down the thief's body, coming to rest atop the hardness clearly outlined by the bedsheet. He heard a soft moan, and looked up to see Vila regarding him sleepily. He wasn't sure just how Vila might respond to finding an audience in the bed, but couldn't help being surprised when the other man seemed completely unconcerned. Soft brown eyes watched him steadily as Vila's hands caressed Avon's back and shoulders.

        Flushing brightly, Tarrant dropped his fascinated eyes, only to find them sliding over to rest on Avon's clever, clever hand. He found it increasingly difficult to control his breathing as he observed the tech's fingers carefully trace the length of Vila's erection. Unconsciously, he gulped audibly when the roaming digits slipped down to cradle Vila's balls.

        Embarrassed to find himself playing the voyeur, he guiltily looked up to meet Vila's eyes. The expected condemnation was not there; rather, the thief smiled in gentle understanding.

        "Tarrant," Vila spoke quietly, "you're welcome to watch if you'd like. But," a mischievous twinkle brightened his eyes, "it'd be a lot more fun for all of us if you join in."

        Tarrant frowned. He wanted to...but the very thought of touching Avon...this way...Well, it positively boggled the mind. Frozen by indecision, he remained frustratingly isolated.

        A beckoning hand opened toward him. "C'mon, it's okay."

        Unable to stay the motion, Tarrant moved closer. Tentatively, he brushed the smooth skin of Avon's back with one finger. The sleeping man stirred at the touch and Tarrant withdrew hastily.

        "Here," Vila grabbed his hand, laying it flush against Avon's shoulder, "he wants you to touch him. It's what he needs." Seeing the younger man's confusion, Vila elaborated, "He fights the memories with pleasure. It's his way."

        "Watch," murmured the thief, as he gently shifted Avon onto his back. Propped up on one elbow, Vila slid his free hand over the expanse of Avon's chest. "He's very sensitive to touch, Tarrant." Vila lowered his lips to a rosy-hued nipple. Smooth muscles contracted as Avon arched into the caress. "Very responsive," Vila coaxed.

        Lips wandering teasingly along the column of Avon's neck, Vila reached out, grasping Tarrant's hand in his own. He led the pilot on an intoxicating tour of the guarded Alpha's upper body. Fascinated by the unforeseen freedom to touch Avon, Tarrant lingered often along the way, pausing to explore more fully the hardening tissue of Avon's nipples, the smooth musculature covering Avon's chest and shoulders, the enticing line of crisp hair leading to Avon's...

        With a startled gasp, Tarrant registered the feel of exploring lips on his neck. "Mmmm," he moaned his appreciation. Dropping his head back, he allowed Vila to continue the intriguing attentions.

        Still holding Tarrant's hand, encouraging the pilot to caress Avon, Vila nibbled a path of fire up Tarrant's neck, across his jawline, settling finally on his mouth. Soft as a whisper, Vila's mouth danced across his, gently pulling at his lower lip with careful teeth.

        Slowly, Vila drew back, smiling secretly at the helpless need shining in the younger man's eyes. Lowering his head, Vila then kissed the eagerly responsive Avon. Tarrant's bright blue gaze caught his as he raised his head. He read the lingering indecision lurking behind intensely fragile need. "We all need this, Tarrant," he reassured. "It's just that some of us can't admit it."

        Avon, apparently becoming impatient, shifted restlessly. Strong arms slid around Tarrant, wiping all hesitation from his mind. He allowed the sleeping man to pull him closer, losing himself in the unmistakably male length pressed against him. Curious, he lowered his lips to taste the cool firmness of Avon's mouth.

        Heart pounding, Tarrant lifted his mouth from Avon's. Shifting his eyes downward, he saw where Vila's guiding hand had led him. He gulped audibly, watching helplessly as his own hand disappeared beneath the bedsheet that concealed a pulsating hardness around which Vila firmly wrapped his fingers.

        Avon's hips surged up, pushing his cock more deeply into Tarrant's trembling hold.

        "He loves that," Vila murmured hotly into his ear.

        His fingers tightened convulsively around Avon's erection, as he raised his head to meet Vila's soft brown gaze. "And what about you, Vila?" Carefully, he loosened his grip on Avon, sliding his hand to the thief's hip. "What do you love?" His fingers tangled in wiry pubic hair. "Hmmm?" He opened his mouth, running his tongue around the shell of Vila's ear. He felt a shudder run through the rigidly-still man and smiled to himself, glad to feel the quicksilver of passion, eager to test the limits of Vila's control. Safe in the knowledge that Vila would never hurt him, not the way he'd been hurt before. If ever there was a person with whom he'd like to experience the mysteries of malesex, Vila was that person.

        And how he'd wondered. The horror of his mistreatment at boarding school had scarred him. Left him unable to act upon the terrifying desires that plagued him.

        But he had wanted to act. Had dreamed of holding a man close, of touching a man with love and lust. And, he knew. Knew that not all men hurt each other. He'd seen happy couples. Male couples. The love and caring he'd occasionally glimpsed between male couples made him ache with wanting. Because, he realized that kind of love did not grow out of the fear and pain he remembered. It just couldn't.

        Rationally, he knew this. The little boy that lived in him, though, could not forget. The child who sobbed at night, hurt and lonely and frightened to even seek help. That child haunted him after dark. Woke him with horrible dreams, stopped him with coldly vivid memories whenever he allowed himself to fantasize about another man. That little boy never forgot.

        Until now. Tonight, the child remained silent.

        Tarrant sighed. It felt good to trust.

        Avon moaned, thrusting into Vila's hold. Relentlessly, the thief milked him, holding Tarrant mesmerized with the firmly caressing movements of his fingers. Unconsciously, Tarrant mirrored the motions with his own hand on Vila's straining cock.

        "Stop!" Vila grabbed at his hand. "Wait, not so fast." Panting, he grinned at Tarrant's confused look. "I'm not as young as I used to be, Tarrant. Go easy, or it'll be over before we get to the really good part."

        Avon impatiently moved, twisting to press his erection into Tarrant's hip.

        "At this rate, I'm not sure I'll survive the good part, Vila."

        The thief grinned at him. "'Course you will." Stretching one arm up to the shelf over the bed, Vila retrieved what Tarrant recognized to be a tube of lubricant.

        Chilling fear uncurled in his stomach. "Uh, Vila—-" he began. Abruptly, his vocal hesitation was halted by the sensation of Vila's warm hand spreading thick gel onto his erection. "Oh, shit," he groaned, pushing himself up into the exciting grip.

        Vila's eyes shone with arousal. Quickly, he finished preparing Tarrant, and squeezed another glob of gel onto his fingers. The pilot's breathing became increasingly labored as he watched Vila slather the gel over Avon's straining cock. Vila then reached behind Avon and slipped one well-greased finger into the tech's unprotected asshole.

        "What are you planning?" Tarrant's heart pounded so heavily, he felt sure the noise would awaken Avon.

        "He loves this, too."

        Fascinated, Tarrant watched closely, mouth dry, as Avon moaned and pushed back against Vila's marauding finger.

        "How, exactly, are we going to do this?"

        Vila paused in his teasing of Avon, glancing up to hold Tarrant's eyes with his own. "Easy." A confident smile lit his features. "You fuck Avon, Avon fucks me."

        "But, what about you?" A bright flush colored Tarrant's cheeks at even contemplating what Vila suggested.

        "Not to worry, Tarrant. I'll be fine, believe me."

        He didn't want to argue. He didn't want to discuss. Tarrant wanted, much to his own surprise, to fuck Avon.

        Yes. He wanted to lose himself in Avon's body, wanted to watch as Avon sank into Vila's welcoming depths. But, he was at a loss as to just how he should go about accomplishing this. Finally, he looked to Vila. "How?"

        "Here." Vila moved Avon's limp form, pulling him further onto his side. "Roll onto your side, Tarrant. Yes, that's it. Now, enter him slowly. That's right. Easy now, not too fast. You don't want to hurt him."

        Tarrant realized that the sound roaring in his ears was his own blood. Gods, this felt unbelievably good! The warm tightness of Avon's body enfolded him, smooth muscles clenched around his hardness, almost bringing him to crisis immediately.

        Vila turned his back, snuggling his rump into Avon's groin. "Help him, Tarrant."

        With a trembling hand, Tarrant guided Avon's thick cock into Vila's depths. The thief grunted once, and Tarrant paused his movements, worried that he might be in pain.

        "'S good, Tarrant. Don't stop."

        Tarrant had never heard such an agonized tone of pleasure in his life. Carefully, he pulled the thief back until Avon's wiry pubic hair brushed against his soft skin.

        "Okay," Vila panted. "Now, start."

        Proving that he was, indeed, capable of following orders, Tarrant did as Vila asked. Slowly he withdrew his cock from Avon, biting his lip at the feel of cold air on his heated flesh. He hung for a moment, savoring the anticipation, before plunging his full length into the waiting channel. As he pressed inward, Avon was pushed into Vila with more force. When Tarrant pulled back again, the tech's hips followed the movement, so that Vila enjoyed the same sensations Tarrant's actions were causing inside of Avon.

        "Yes." The husky whisper surprised him. Apart from a few groans, Avon had remained silent until now.

        "Mmmm," the tech voiced his pleasure.

        Tarrant found the sounds strangely exciting. He increased the rhythm of his thrusts, uttering a cry of gratification.

        Vila's hand fell to his own groin and began rising and falling in tempo with Tarrant's plunges into Avon. The force of the pilot's strokes increased as the three men hurtled together toward oblivion. Their voices blended in a harmony of triumph when the three reached climax as one.

        When awareness returned, Tarrant found his arms filled with Avon's warm body. The tech had turned, cuddling against Tarrant's chest. The sight of Avon, curled into his arms, touched Tarrant deeply. With one hand, he stroked the fine chestnut hair on Avon's head. The sleeping man sighed, snuggling further into Tarrant's hold.

        "Blake," he mumbled.

        Startled, Tarrant's eyes flew to meet Vila's carefully watchful gaze.

        Vila smiled secretly, then raised a forefinger to his own lips. "Remember, Tarrant, no questions."

        Tarrant nodded. "And never mention this to a wide awake Avon."

        "Right." Vila rested one hand lightly on Tarrant's curls, then turned on his side, curling around Avon. "Sleep, now. Busy day tomorrow."

        Tarrant slept.