The BLTS Archive - Differences by Apocalypse (beth.tereno@gmail.com) --- Rating: PG-13 for implied drunken alien sex Set during "Proving Ground". --- The taste is unfamiliar: subtly sharp, tangy, heady. He's never had anything quite like it before. It's hard to get his mind around the *difference*. The evening is a fog of alcohol and the never-empty well of charm that Jonathan's companion was more than happy to lavish. Now the uniforms are off, in the spirit of supposedly intellectual curiosity of the kind that often gets aired during moments of drunken reflection ... a curiosity turned decidedly sensual within sparse moments. Despite the similarities of form, there are certain things that change ... taste, scent, even touch, because his new lover's body is so smooth, so alien. He seems fascinated by the different textures even now; his long, delicate fingers are skittering lazily over Jonathan's bare chest. "You're ... rougher ..." he whispers, his hands tangling themselves amidst the dusting of hairs across Jonathan's chest. His mouth is bare inches from Jonathan's lips, turned up at the corners into an indolent smirk. The expression is almost feline in its smug possessiveness. His breath is scented with the subtle tang of Andorian ale. "I never ... imagined you quite this way." Honesty is something of an instinct. "I never imagined you at all," he admits. Shran laughs softly. "I've thought of little else." Jonathan isn't sure what to say. It's a lie, of course - the commander of a ship has plenty on his mind other than having wild alien sex; he has to, in order for things to run smoothly. But how much of a lie? "Does that displease you?" Concern edges through the haze of alcohol as Shran gazes intently into Jonathan's face. "Not really. To be honest I'm a little confused." Shran chuckles again, one hand sliding away from the sweat-dampened chest to brush the backs of his fingers against Jonathan's cheek - a gesture of strange tenderness, weird intimacy, coupled with the way his antennae are delicately twining themselves into Jonathan's thick hair. "So soft here ... so different," he breathes in wonderment. "So many different textures. I'm so glad I found you." Jonathan grins. "So that's why you came to the Expanse? To feel my ... textures?" "Andorians never have only one reason for doing anything," Shran replies slyly, and captures Jonathan's mouth with his own. The taste is different, like the taste of Andorian ale; stronger, subtler, slightly warmer - than anything Jonathan has tasted before. He'll probably regret it in the morning when the booze wears off. But for now, he's content with Shran's declaration of interest, the delicate explorations of his fingers ... with the taste of him ... and with his reasons for coming here. For now. --- The End