By Viridian5
12/3/02
Harper found Tyr sitting in the obs deck, staring out into space. Sitting besides him, Harper said, "Hey, Tyr." Even at a small distance, Harper could still smell the electricity, petroleum jelly, and rubber on him. Didn't see any kinds of burns on his neck from all the electroshock, though. Must have been a Nietzschean toughness thing.
"Harper."
"How are you doing?" Funny how Tyr's stillness always made Harper feel more fidgety.
Tyr still stared outside. "I'm... fine." He looked tired, though, not that Harper could blame him.
"Yeah. Me too." Harper's skull still rang and vibrated, and he had this feeling like his brain was biting down on tin foil, but he couldn't quite call any of that pain, not since getting the port and shoving a plug into it every so often had adjusted his definition of the word. Fidgeting, Harper said, "I wanted to thank you for going in after me--'cause it was taking so long that I was starting to wonder if Dylan had decided to let 'em have me--and to tell you that I never would have left you if I hadn't figured that you'd kick their asses and be okay."
"That had been my plan."
"And it would have worked if not for that meddling war criminal and his crazy kids, and the facts that they were nuts and there were a lot of them? Yeah."
"I told you to leave me."
"Like I take directions very well usually."
Tyr kept staring out the window, but quietly. Then he asked, "Are you seeking absolution?"
"Nah, not really." Harper felt guilty, yeah, but couldn't see himself asking for Tyr's forgiveness. Asking wouldn't get it if it weren't already there. "I just wanted to say thanks and sorry and see if you were okay."
"You have done so."
"Okay." He could go now and be less uncomfortable elsewhere.
He didn't.
After another long period of silence, Tyr said, "You're still here." But he didn't sound annoyed about it.
"Yeah, and I don't get it any more than you do." He didn't know what he wanted to do here, and that often led to badness.
Tyr nodded and didn't pursue that subject any further. Instead, he said, "You forgave them their trespasses against you, yet you had no difficulty with the thought of me using force against them."
Harper shrugged, figuring that Tyr would see it out of the corner of his eye. "Everybody knows somebody who isn't quite right anymore, ya know?" On Earth. "So I understand 'em, but I know that you can't let them walk all over you too, because they will if you let them. I played along because they had me outnumbered so bad and hadn't done anything really, really objectionable yet. At least they hadn't before Dylan let them know that they had a hostage, namely me."
"I received the distinct impression that Dylan hasn't spent much time dealing with the insane."
"You too, huh?"
"For reasons that escape me, he valued them above you. Having found his sole, half-hearted attempt to rescue the ship's engineer pathetic, I decided it was time to press the issue." From Tyr, that was just about a declaration of love.
"And I'm glad you did."
"I watched the tape. I heard you suggest that I might be a better victim to torture." Tyr smiled.
"You heard the part where I talked about how much bigger you are than me too, right? C'mon, you didn't think I was going to give you to them, did you?"
"I know. I found it amusing that your insane logic almost convinced them to let you go."
"I guess I speak fluent Crazy."
Tyr finally turned a little to face Harper. "You're in pain."
"Me? Nah!"
"The way your shoulders are set and the tight muscles in your neck say otherwise."
"Am not. Dr. Yanomani had a precise touch with a torture tool, because he didn't mark my neck up at all while he was--"
"Raping your data port with a power drill?"
"I replaced and fixed everything he damaged." Like the tearing and denting, the bits of exposed circuitry.... "I'm fine. Just like you're fine."
"I see."
Harper felt comfortable and uncomfortable here all at once, while Tyr still felt like Tyr to him, no matter what had happened to him in that tunnel and taken his arm spurs away. Tyr felt so compressed to Harper, like his body should be super dense to hold it all in. It made him seem more solid than most people.
At some point in the last two years, Harper must have come to find that comforting in some way.
It made no sense, but Harper had a complicated relationship with sense. He didn't always respect or need it. He could take it or leave it. That flexibility gave him an edge.
But right now Tyr felt too compressed, like he was clenching down hard. He should have been diamond on the inside. Harper wondered if he could loosen him up a little.
"Perhaps I'm not fine after all," Tyr said.
Raising an eyebrow, Harper asked, "Yeah?" Tyr seemed to be helping here....
"Perhaps."
"Maybe... I don't really feel that great either, even aside from being kinda wired."
"I've heard you extol the healing properties of beer."
"Yeah, but you don't drink."
"I don't believe in dulling my mind."
"Sometimes it can be a healthy thing if you do it temporarily. Are you trying to get me drunk so you can do evil things to me?"
Tyr smiled. "If I were, I would hardly announce it first."
"That's comforting. Thanks."
"I'll sit with you."
"That's what the kids are calling it these days?"
Tyr air-cuffed him, deliberately missing by a small margin, the sweep of his hand ghosting across the back of Harper's head. Harper grinned.
--------------------
"I can find my own bed," Harper said as he walked. He felt so much looser now, like liquid. Not that he was drunk, just buzzed. "And even if I couldn't, I have lots of comfy places around the ship I know I can sleep in."
Tyr walked at his side. "That's a wise policy."
"You betcha."
When he reached his bed, Harper felt more like he poured down into it than anything else. Liquid. He liked the feeling. But then Tyr turned back to the door. "Stay with me?" Harper found himself asking. Looked like some part of him had plans. "Look, I know it sounds like a scam, but it's not. You need to sleep too." And Harper wanted to make sure Tyr did it.
Tyr had decompressed a little in Harper's company as they'd discussed ship stuff over Harper's beer and Tyr's evil looking something juice. Just casual but professional talk, no "hey, how about that torture?" If he could do Tyr some good, he wanted to try to do more.
Tyr raised an eyebrow. "That's a narrow bed."
"I don't take up much room." Harper smiled his most winning smile. At least he hoped it was winning. He just didn't want Tyr going away and being alone. Besides, he had this urge to curl up with someone he liked.
"I might roll over and crush you."
"The Harper is made of sterner stuff than that."
"I worry when you refer to yourself in the third person."
As Harper removed his boots and tool belt, he watched Tyr think it over, not that Tyr thinking made much of a visual display. Harper said, "C'mon, it's not like I'm gonna do anything evil to you, and if I did you could just beat me off."
"I'm not that unaware of your vernacular."
Hunh? Oh. Oops. "Sorry, guess I'm a little more buzzed than I thought. But you know what I mean. I'm not gonna attack you, and even if I did you could defend yourself pretty easily. And now I'm gonna shut up because I don't think I'm helping my case."
"I don't think you could shut up."
"Oh, yeah? Aw, shit." Harper made a lip-zipping motion.
"I shall share your bed." That decided, Tyr stripped down to just his pants. Harper reminded himself that he saw Tyr's bare chest lots of times. Though the bare arms still looked strange.... Weird how he could find all that chiseled buffness sexy, since he preferred people with a bit of healthy padding on them. He wondered if Tyr would be flattered or annoyed if he said that he must like the big guy for his personality instead of his body.
Tyr took up a lot of space in bed, but Harper had expected that and settled himself into the Tyr-free spaces, curving where he had to. He had to lie on Tyr in a few places, but Tyr didn't seem to mind much. Tyr eventually started to relax a bit, becoming a better pillow. Warm and nearly cozy, shielded by someone big and solid, Harper easily went to sleep.
--------------------
When Tyr awoke, he instantly knew where he was and whom he was with by scent before he even opened his eyes. Harper stirred against him, perhaps disturbed out of a deeper level of sleep by Tyr's movements, but quieted when Tyr stroked his hair. The refugees had been fascinated by that hair and by Harper, seeming to see him as another machine shop tool to be played with and tested.
It angered him that he and Harper had been so transgressed against by people Dylan stupidly wanted to help and had given free range of the ship to. Don't hurt them. If the refugees had been operating under a similar restraint, the admonition would have been unnecessary.
You protected your own--your family, your Pride, your comrades--first. Always.
Harper smelled wrong tonight, his body and clothing marked by the sweat and sour-sweet scents of the insane people who had literally held him captive. Tyr did as well. The effort and time necessary to herd and utilize the refugees had left no opportunity or energy for a proper shower. He intended to get them both a thorough washing at the first opportunity that presented itself.
But not now, not with Harper so deeply asleep and entwined with him. Harper had tangled one leg with his and rested a hand over his abdominal muscles, leaving Tyr to wonder if bedpartners commonly insinuated themselves so. He'd only slept with Medea and Freya before, since few could be trusted not to take advantage of his vulnerable state. He'd never trusted any of his other sexual partners that far. Both women, he knew, had had good reasons to keep him alive.
He'd surprised himself by saying yes to Harper's request, because he didn't know if he actually trusted Harper that far, and it wasn't like the little engineer couldn't hurt him. Harper used his size as protective camouflage, a smart survival tactic in an environment in which powerful looking people were no doubt targeted by their Dragan overlords. His stature also proved to be an advantage in his chosen profession, something that would have been good to design into an engineer's genetic structure.
Perhaps Tyr had said yes because Harper had asked. Even during his infestation, Harper had never asked for company at night, which had led to Tyr occasionally making the offer to sit and watch over him as he slept. Tyr had seen Harper's self-pitying whining and legitimate complaints alike ignored by the rest of the crew and so suspected that the boy had learned to stop asking. Their neglect in the interest of sparing themselves discomfort had been sickening, especially since they'd have been far more uncomfortable if their only engineer had died of the larvae or killed himself from despair, leaving them unable to repair their own ship well enough to have it perform at maximum effectiveness.
Now as then, Harper barely moved in his sleep, apparently saving all his energy for his waking hours. Efficient. It had also made it easier for Tyr to discern the difference between normal and nightmare-ridden slumber.
Tyr had noticed Harper watching him with concern since his return from the tunnel, not that he caught him at it often. Trying to make Tyr feel better seemed to make Harper feel better, and Tyr saw no reason to discourage such thinking as long as it served him.
Perhaps Harper had cause to worry, since Tyr had been taken so easily by the refugees. Yes, they had outnumbered him, and Dr. Yanomani had been far cannier than his false appearance had suggested, but he had to do better than that.
"You're brooding too loudly," Harper murmured.
"If I'm keeping you awake, I should go."
Harper's fingers curled over his abdomen. "Nah, that's not necessary. Just don't brood and stiffen up."
"I am not stiffening up."
"Yeah, you are."
"If you keep questioning my judgment, I'll leave."
"Fine. You're not stiff. You're loose. I've never slept on a looser guy. You're overcooked spaghetti man."
"You sound less than sincere." In fact, Harper's voice had nearly dripped insincerity.
"I have to sound sincere too? You want me to lie?"
Maybe the boy wanted him to stay as a reaction to having his body so roughly infringed on by strangers. Or maybe he enjoyed having someone to argue with. When he wiggled against Tyr in a distinctly sexual way, Tyr started to think that perhaps he wanted something else. The musky scent of arousal rising from him suggested as much.
"I want you to stop wiggling." Certain parts of Tyr's anatomy enjoyed the wiggling too much.
"I'm getting comfortable."
"Too comfortable."
"No such thing."
Sometimes it amazed Tyr that Harper had survived life on Earth with that impudence. "There is."
He could feel Harper grinning. "Is not."
"I'm not going to let you drag me down to such a level."
"But it's fun, Tyr. And easy. You say, 'Is too,' and I say, 'Is not.' Lather, rinse, and repeat until satisfied. Easy."
"I am not easily satisfied."
"I'm up for the challenge," Harper purred.
Harper flirted with everyone and everything. Women. Men. Aliens. Domestic animals. Machines. Inanimate objects. But he did it lightly and in an over the top fashion, not like this, intense and heated.
It struck Tyr that he now knew the path they were travelling down. In the absence of a worthy mate, Nietzschean men sometimes relieved tension through sex with other men. Such sex acts could be competitions, alliances, or exercise. In his time as a mercenary, Tyr had rarely found someone worthy of standing in the room with him, let alone having sex with him. It had been so long that he'd forgotten how opening parleys could progress.
Harper may have spent most of his life in an environment ruled by Nietzscheans--if degenerate ones--but that didn't guarantee that he would understand how such associations went or what they meant to both parties. Initiating anything with him could prove to be a very bad idea.
Harper understood vengeance very well.
Yet Tyr's hands were already stroking him, soothing and rubbing away whatever tension he found. Harper's body loosened and seemed to untangle, and he hummed happily. As good as it had felt to have Harper snug against his side before, it felt even better as Harper relaxed under his ministrations.
When Tyr finally stopped the motion of his rebellious hands, Harper sighed and said, "Tyr, it's not like I expect a marriage proposal. I know exactly what's going here."
That would put him ahead of Tyr. "What is going on here then?"
"It looked like it would be turning into sex. I know Nietzscheans don't see it as being meaningful if it's not possible to get some kind of heir out of it. Meaningless is fine with me, since I'm out to erase all the bad touches I got today. I figure that you see some advantages in taking me on, and I'm fine with that too."
"And what advantages would those be?"
"You can tell things about a guy from how he has sex. Maybe you want to strengthen my bond to you since I have an important role in keeping this ship running. Maybe it's about helping me run better."
"You missed a reason."
"Oh yeah? Which one?"
"That I would want to do this."
Harper smiled and looked only a little wry. "Lust? For me? Aw, Tyr, you didn't have to."
"Now take off that hideous shirt."
"You got some nerve talking about my hideous shirts." But Harper stripped it off, revealing a more muscular frame than people would expect of him. He dressed to camouflage. Some dark bruises, obviously recently inflicted, marred his pale skin. From the wide variety of shapes and sizes, they'd been delivered through many different methods.
And Dylan had been so concerned for the people who had done this, showing no evidence of worry for the crewmember dependent on their nonexistent mercy. Perhaps the captain felt such empathy for them out of being insane himself.
"Do you ever wonder over our captain's sanity?" Tyr asked.
"Constantly." Then Harper seemed to realize precisely what Tyr had been referring to. "Maybe he would've understood better if the refugees had swarmed him too, instead of just us. You notice how people only come at him one on one or two on one?"
"He's overly lucky."
"No kidding. And I'm tolerant and careful of him the way I am of most crazy people. But are we just gonna talk about Dylan now?"
During their discussion, Harper hadn't made any further moves. Perhaps he feared that Tyr would change his mind. He had to be disabused of this notion, so Tyr lightly stroked all the way down the curve of his back, making it an invitation.
Then Harper surprised him by rubbing firm circles on his forearms around where the base of each bone spur had once been... and it felt every bit as arousing as it should, sending bolts of sensation straight to his cock. The loss of his spurs had left him feeling so naked, so unworthy, sometimes that he'd taken to crossing his arms and resting his hands over the areas where they had once been, but it seemed that the old sensitivity and responses remained. A small nova of fierce joy suffused Tyr. He hadn't lost everything.
As powerful as the joy and lust felt, it didn't escape Tyr's notice that Harper knew at least one aspect of a Nietzschean's erotic physiology.
Maybe it wasn't actually that surprising.
Instinct made him grab Harper and roll him onto his back, with Tyr above him. Harper said, "Hey! I don't like being pinned!" but it changed to a softer, deeper "Hey...." as Tyr kissed across his collarbone and fondled him through his pants. Desire made a far more pleasant scent on his skin than what the lunatics had left him with. While Tyr's initial sexual touches had at first inspired a minute flinch, Harper's body now immediately and confidently pushed itself up against Tyr's hands and lips for more.
Tyr mapped him that way, noting which areas seemed to be more sensitive or pleasurable, counting scars. Tyr knew that not all of those scars had come from a childhood spent on a downtrodden slave world; some had been caused by the reckless sports Harper participated in, or engineering wear and tear. Stroking along Harper's stomach, he remembered the Magog larvae and how close he'd come to the necessity of keeping his promise to mercy kill Harper. The boy really had survived so much.
Few humans looked stronger without the cover of clothing. Trust contrary Harper to be an exception.
"Tyr, our pants really have to come off. Now." Pro-active, Harper had already started to undo Tyr's, his clever fingers making short work of the fastenings.
"Is it truly so impossible for you to lie back and enjoy my ministrations as they come?"
"In a word, yeah. C'mon, Tyr, I can't just lie here and not reciprocate the feeling up. That's rude." Harper now had his own pants undone as well.
"Since when do you care about rudeness?"
"Since now, when I want something." Harper's legs were pinned, but he nonetheless launched his upper body at Tyr and grabbed hold and kissed him, hanging on. Harper somehow found the leverage needed to pull them both down to the mattress, but Tyr didn't mind so much, not with Harper running his hands all over him and trying to sweetly and hungrily kiss the life out of him, making his skin and lips hum with feeling.
"Anyone ever tell you that you wear your pants too tight?" Harper gasped when he took a break to breathe.
"The word 'too' never came into the discussions."
"How are you supposed to continue the Anasazi line if nobody can get you out of your damned pants?"
"Whereas yours come right off."
Harper wiggled and kicked the last bit off. "Is that a complaint?" His usually pale skin had a rosy glow to it now.
"No."
"Good, because it's rude to complain about the guy who has his hand wrapped around your dick." He had a good, firm grip and a dare in his eyes. His thumb rubbed maddening patterns up and down.
Tyr found the situation amusing as well as arousing. "You're going to teach me manners?" But he had to admit that if he'd had any lingering question as to whether he trusted Harper, the very fact that he had no fear of allowing Harper to hold such an important part of his anatomy suggested that it had already been settled, at least on an unconscious level.
"You could try to teach me manners too."
"That would take some effort."
"I really hope so." When Tyr reached in and took hold, Harper smiled and said, "Now that's more like it."
Tyr's efforts to match Harper's rhythm were useless because Harper varied grips and speed, even though it all felt wonderful. Sometimes the changes seemed less like a conscious strategy than a side effect of his occasional need to rub his hair or himself against Tyr's body. His movements and cries made it easy to know when he liked something and suggested that right now he liked everything.
Tyr had nothing to prove here. He melted into an orgasm that flowed through his body like an ocean, his release truly a feeling of release.
Harper fucked Tyr's fist with more force and desperation now. "Harper," Tyr said, and Harper looked up with eyes that looked at once dazed and focused, overheating with lust. He also stopped moving. "You can come now," Tyr said, as he rubbed his thumb over the head of Harper's cock. And Harper exploded.
Once Harper ceased his thrusting and panting, he very precisely elbowed Tyr in the ribs. "You're so, so funny. 'You can come now.' My ass." He certainly looked more relaxed.
"Your ass had nothing to do with it," Tyr purred, feeling very satisfied.
"Give it time," Harper murmured into his chest before falling asleep. Tyr followed soon after.
--------------------------
Some time later, Harper groaned, "What time's it?"
"Five."
"Wanna shower, then go back to bed. Shower with me? Be more... efficient."
Efficiency. Really. Once under the hot spray, Harper insisted that they had to soap one another up to make sure they cleaned all the hard to reach places. When Tyr told him that he had no shame, he cheerfully agreed. Predictably, they stroked one another to another climax. Unpredictably, Tyr found that he enjoyed washing and towel-drying Harper's hair. Harper seemed to enjoy being handled in general.
Swathed in towels, Harper eventually dashed out to change his sheets, saying that he had some duties as the host. Tyr saw it as his duty as a guest to occasionally give Harper's pert ass a playful smack when it presented itself in irresistible ways he bent over. Then they stripped the towels away and rearranged themselves on the narrow mattress for another three, indolent hours before duty would call.
Only one thing could make this better. "Next time, we must do this in a larger venue."
Harper stroked his bare foot down the length of Tyr's calf. "Larger venue? You'll be selling tickets?"
"You know that is not what I mean."
"Larger venue like the docking bay?"
"No."
"I'm about to start asking if this venue is bigger than a breadbox, ya know."
"I was thinking that we could use my bed."
Harper reacted very well, smiling. "See? Something specific. That was all I wanted."
"I doubt you're so easily satisfied."
"I like to have things spelled out. You know, I could get a larger bed too. If I saw a long-term need for it."
"I think that would be wise."
"Gotcha."
Two hours later, when Tyr felt it was time to return to his room and dress for the day, Harper demanded a chance to kiss him on the nose before he left. Tyr thought it an odd custom but allowed it and reciprocated.
--------------------
Harper woke up with a big, goofy smile on his face and his body buzzing with contentment. If Tyr wanted to make a habit of this, Harper could go for that. Even aside from the happy sex, sleeping against somebody big and mostly friendly did wonders for his state of mind.
When Harper walked onto the bridge, he noticed Beka having a soft-voiced but intense conversation with Dylan across the room. She ended it when she noticed Harper. Everybody but Tyr had been playing it cool since the capture and torture bit, trying to make the capture and torture mean nothing at all through sheer will.
Harper would have to find the right time to get Beka and Dylan back for their conversation about how maybe they should leave him with the lunatics 'til they couldn't take him anymore... oh, no, it would be cruel to the lunatics. He really didn't need that kind of joking, thanks.
He would have been happier if he hadn't watched Andromeda's records of the rescue attempt in an effort to reassure himself that there really had been one.
Who would have guessed that someday he and Tyr would be the only simpatico folks on board?
"Harper, how are you doing?" Dylan asked. He sounded a little uncomfortable. "Your port--"
"Oh, sure, I take a power drill to the neck everyday. No big deal," Harper answered, figuring it was still more reasonable sounding than his first thought of "You chose their welfare over mine!" but when Dylan gave him a wounded and almost confused look, he further amended it to "I'm fine." It didn't sound totally honest, but tough.
Tyr had taken that answer, seen it as a social lie, and coaxed him into more detail. Dylan just looked relieved and didn't press him for anything more.
Sure, Dylan. No lingering trauma from being abused with a power tool.
Across the room, Tyr raised an eyebrow at him, and Harper snuck him a rolling eyes look and a quick, stabbing gesture at Dylan. Dylan noticed the gesture, though, and took a brief look behind him that wouldn't help his bewilderment, since Tyr had his stone face on.
"Don't worry about it, Dylan," Harper said, but couldn't help adding, "Last night I did a little bodywork, and now I'm as good as new."
Being "careful" and "tolerant" didn't mean he couldn't mess with Dylan's head. Not when it was so much fun.