TITLE: "SAFE IN THE ARMS OF LOVE"

AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL

FANDOM: "Farscape"

PAIRING: JOHN/CRAIS

RATING: NC-17. M/M. *SLASH*

STATUS: New.

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.

FEEDBACK: Welcomed

SERIES/SEQUEL: SEQUEL to "RULING PASSION"

Authors's note: For those of you familiar with the Martina McBride song of the same title, reading the story while the record plays just takes you to another level....

The usual disclaimers apply. No infringement of copyright is intended.


"SAFE IN THE ARMS OF LOVE"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

"Did it work?"

Aeryn would not look at Chiana, she was busy checking for herself. "We won't know for a few arns yet. Remember they could be very far away by now."

"Yeah, but you'd know, Moya'd know. Why can't Pilot tell us?"

Aeryn looked up from Pilot's console. He did not say anything but carried on his duties monitoring Moya, checking that she had suffered no ill affects from the control collar. Completely consumed by his tasks. "Pilot's busy right now, Chiana." She said softly.

"It'd only take a microt."

Anger flared in her eyes at the Nebari's insensitive insistence. Aeryn concerned for Pilot and Moya, Chiana thinking only of Crichton. As their eyes met both realised what they were doing but neither wanted to budge. Aeryn was concerned about Crichton as well but prefered to deal with the matter closest at hand first. The one she could do something about.

D'Argo entered Pilot's chamber and took in the situation immediately. "Chiana. Stop annoying Aeryn and come with me."

She tilted her head abruptly, bird like and child like in the same motion. Upset that he was apparently taking Aeryn's side.

"We are all concerned about John." He rumbled more softly as he joined them. "Interrupting Pilot will not help matters."

"Yeah but Moya starburst as soon as she was free of the collar and once Pilot finishes making sure she's alright she'll starburst again."

"Your point, Chiana?" Asked Aeryn quietly biting back her own bitter trail of thoughts.

"My point is that we may be going in the wrong direction. Away from John."

No one said anything for a moment. Angry and upset, Chiana failed to read their own concern. "But then I suppose that doesn't matter to you does it?"

Aeryn watched her storm out of Pilot's chamber, fighting back emotions that she only held in check when she was busy. Letting her work keep the worst of her fears at bay. At bay but never vanquished. D'Argo looked at her and gave a solemn nod of understanding. Words not necessary to describe the agony they shared. "I should talk to her."

She just nodded. Grateful for his understanding. As D'Argo left the chamber Pilot looked up and his eyes met Aeryn's. Such a wealth of emotion and feeling in his eyes that she felt the tears prick behind their glass walls. "We will find him, Pilot." She maintained softly. Her words sounding more like a oath than a certainty. "If we have to comb every square dench of the Uncharted Territories to find him."

Pilot said nothing, releasing one hand from his many tasks to lay his angular claws gently over her hand. Tears spilled from the glass case. For a microt it was the only movement in the chamber as Pilot stopped moving. Concerned for her. Concerned for Chiana's hurt feelings. Concerned for
Crichton. Concerned for them all. Aeryn raised her free hand and brushed the back of it over her face to wipe away the tears. As if her movement had freed him, Pilot got back to work. His few words emptying the dictionary of the necessity for any others. "Moya and I will not stop looking
until we do."

* * * * *

Crais woke feeling guilty. He should have been keeping watch, checking charts, but he had fallen asleep. He paused, realising where he was and who he cradled in his arms. He smiled. His clothes in a folded heap on the floor, his skin warm with the human body draped around it. He kissed the sleeping face gently, his lips worshipping him but Crichton did not stir. Crais moved and came up against the tube. He frowned and looked down at it. The thing irritated him, it was not necessary. <Talyn. Remove the tube>

For a moment there was no reaction.

<Talyn?>

The leviathan responded slowly. <He sleeps, why wake him?>

Crais frowned. It was not like Talyn to avoid a direct command, even one couched as a request. <He has done nothing but sleep these last few solar days, Talyn. Release the tube. Please>

Talyn paused a microt then released it. Crais watched the tube snake away and disappear over the lip of the pod bay where they both rested. He looked down at Crichton's penis. It was erect and the head was gently leaking. The white cum formed a milky cap, a little trickle now running down the shaft. It fascinated Crais. He reached down and ran a gentle finger up the shaft and watched the trickle thicken out into a narrow stream at his touch. He smiled and wriggled down, gently licking the head to taste him. Crichton shivered under him, his shaft jerking gently as he began to run his tongue up its' beautiful length, spurred on by his sleeping partner's reaction. The head leaking harder now. Crais took him in his mouth and drank down the sweet nectar. Strange that it did not spurt into his mouth, gush down his throat in the creamy torrent he had become used to. Was this another human variation? If it was it was satisfying. Crichton groaned softly in the back of his throat but did not wake. Crais continued to suck him, his tongue gently adding pressure. Fascinated that he could control his semen like this. It was more control than Crais had.

Crichton was trembling now. His whole body vibrating in reponse to Crais's touch. What had seemed so erotic a moment ago, a compliment to coitus, now began to trouble Crais. He was still leaking, the cum still flowing in an endless stream into his mouth as he drank gently. Crais stopped stimulating the organ and gently moved back. His lips rubbed across the head accidentally as he took his mouth off him and he was surprised to see Crichton jerk and the head leak again. His moan this time, though soft, was almost painful. As if wrenched out of him. A subtle agony. Crais's frown deepened. This was not normal he was sure of it. Why didn't the human waken? Why did he seem to be permanently aroused? A dark suspicion started to nag at the base of his brain. He wanted Crichton to wake up. To ask him. To reassure himself that he *could* wake up. What were they doing to him? What was going on?

<Talyn?>

<Yes?>

<I want John to wake up>

A pause. <He sleeps>

<I know> Said Crais, with more irritation than he had intended. He took a breath and steadied his voice, made his tone calm again, his words gentle, measured, not wanting to alarm the leviathan. <He has been asleep for solar days Talyn and this is not normal. It is not good for him>

<He is healthy. I have been monitoring him closely>

<I know> Said Crais. He was beginning to realise just how closely. <Talyn, if you care for me, if you care for John, you will allow him to wake>

A longer pause this time. He felt some kind of conflict in Talyn but did not press further. He wanted to see what the leviathan would do. As he waited he became aware of Crichton stirring slowly in his arms. His movements sluggish. Sightless eyes flickered open, lips moved without sound. He looked dazed, as if he did not know where he was or who he was with.

<John. It's me, Bialar. How do you feel?>

<Bialar?>

His voice sounded hoarse through lack of use or parched. Crais was not sure which. His relief at seeing him wake made him tremble. Crichton was fully awake now. He turned towards Crais, feeling the heat from his body as the former Peace Keeper shivered. <You cold?> He queried, puzzled, his hands seeking out to warm him, comfort him.

Crais smiled, his rich dark thoughts caressing Crichton. <No, but you have slept so much. I longed to see you waken. To hold you in my arms and love you>

He felt the sigh before he heard it. <Um, can we skip the last part?>

He frowned. <You do not want to make love?>

Crichton felt awkward, embarrassed. <I feel sore>

<Sore?>

<Yeah, like my cock's been locked in a frelling vice and pumped dry>

Even though the words were strange to him, Crais realised immediately how accurate they were. Of course. That was what the tube was doing. He berated himself silently, annoyed that he had not noticed, not stopped this most intimate of intrusions but he had not realised. Had not suspected Talyn would do such a thing especially without his authority or Crichton's permission. It sat oddly on him. Crichton mistook his silence, his gentle voice concerned. His touch blindly needing to reassure himself that his lover had not been offended. <Hey, we could still make love if you want. I'm okay really, must just be tired>

Crais bit his lip, fighting back tears at the unthinking self sacrifice that was part of Crichton's nature. Part of his gentle allure. <No, no that's alright John. Let me hold you if you will>

Crichton relaxed again and shuddered gently as Crais kissed him.

<I think> Said Crais softly. <That you should get up today. It would do you good to walk around>

<I'd like that>

Crais trailed his lips down Crichton's throat, trying not to get himself turned on all over again. Trying not to take Crichton to that passion that had drained him for so long. Wanting him to recover, to be himself again, to be handed back a choice. In his heart he raged against Talyn but was also puzzled. Wondering why he had taken such liberties. Why he had not informed Crais of what he was doing, what he needed from this human he had now come to care for so much. For the first time since bonding with the leviathan, Crais worried about his motives.

* * * * *

The Nebari craft hovered as if in shock. Zarok looked at Orla, no passion in his face, a white marble blandness that simply amplified his surprise. His anger. "We must find her!"

Orla nodded. Her eyes scanning the starfield in every direction. It was quite empty. "How will we do that?"

"Patience," Said Zarok. "First we will retrieve the collar, it may yet tell us something. Then we will repair it, set new failsafe mechanisms."

She gave a slight bow. Too wise to question. Too intrigued not to wonder. The shape of the universe unfolding beneath her feet was unknown to her but she understood the need to find Chiana. To use her to get to her brother Neri. To crush the fledging resistance which was slowly
crippling their efforts to seduce the worlds they would bring under their conquest. Right or wrong meant nothing to her. Only success.

* * * * *

It was quiet. Silence imbued the craft with the calm of a graveyard. The small access shaft rattled slightly. As if something loose was tumbling inside it. Or falling. All fell silent again. Then the access panel slid open. Slowly. Cautiously. In the dim light two white pinpoints moved like eyes. Nothing moved. The little DRD rolled out of hiding, carefully scanning the room in which he was hidden, recording everything he saw, everything he found. Transmitting it all back to Moya. He could feel the hum of Moya's voice singing through his biomechanoid circuits and responded with cold warmth, not an oxymoron after all to a heart that breathed in metal spasms of cold logic yet knew compassion. Was learning slowly about a weird human quality called 'humour'. He twitched his lightstalks, one less flexible than the other. The blue tape holding it in place and worn like a badge of honour. A war wound. He paused, listened, then searched for the warmth of a human touch. A particular human. A friend. He could sense that he was on the ship. That he lived. The human was close but the little DRD was not close enough.

<And what> Said the cultured smooth voice in the darkness. <Are *you* doing here, little one?>

* * * * *

Aeryn was frantic. Everyone was clustered around the clamshell listening to Pilot. He sounded worried.

"I don't know what happened. Moya said the connection was quite clear. The DRD did manage to send back some pictures though, but they are a little
dark."

"A little dark is right," Grumbled D'Argo.

"The unit *was* trying to be inconspicous, D'Argo." Countered Aeryn defensively.

Chiana was silent, watching the dark images closely. Looking for clues. Suddenly she jerked a hand at the screen. "There! What was that? What the frell did I just see?"

They all leaned closer. Rygel shook his head. "Nothing, you saw *nothing* Chiana."

"No, wait," Said Aeryn. "Pilot can you play that again, this time slowly."

Pilot played the section again, this time they all saw it. Something white drifting passed the little lens. Pilot was about to wind it back to replay it again when he froze. Every mouth dropped open as they heard a clear voice speak directly into the microphone.

"And what are you doing here, little one?"

* * * * *

Crais helped Crichton to stand, concerned that he seemed so weak. Helped him dress, his hands solicitous and gentle, his voice anchoring him as his exit from the pod bay broke the mental three-way link. Crichton put a hand on Crais's arm. "Gotta pee."

"Pee?"

"You know, use the bathroom."

Crais was confused. What was a bathroom? "You want to bathe? Wash?"

He chuckled and leaned forward, kissing Crais's neck. He had been aiming for his lips but what the hell, he tasted good anyway. "Afterwards, first I have to take a leak. Go."

Crais ran a gentle hand down his chest and gently rubbed his crotch. Crichton groaned painfully.

"Don't do that man unless you brought plenty of tissues."

He laughed and led him to a small room. Crichton had not been sure if there even was somewhere set aside for such bodily functions but was relieved to find that even Peace Keepers needed to go. It felt weird and more than a little embarrassing having Crais undo his pants and guide him. He could hold his own damn penis, the trouble was his aim was not so good. So he bit back the odd feeling of this particular intimacy and felt the heat slowly leave his face. A deep sigh of relief escaped as he emptied his bladder. Into what receptical he did not know or care, just so long as it was carried away and disposed of. "Um, Crais."

"Um hum?"

"Can you, can you not put it back like that."

He paused. "Like what?"

"Well, um, the head is still wet. I kind of like to shake the drops off if you know what I mean."

Crais smiled slowly. He had noticed how uncomfortable the human had become when he had helped him with this basic bodily chore. He gently shook his penis for him then carefully tucked it away and did his flies back up, amused at the deep rush of crimson on his face and neck. "There is no reason to be embarrassed, John."

"I'm not embarrassed, it's just..." He broke off. Who the hell was he kidding? This was Crais, his some time enemy and now his lover. There was no one in his entire life that he had ever been this intimate with. "Oh frell, you're right. Who am I kidding?"

"No one," Whispered Crais in his ear. The dark deep rumble of his voice doing odd things to Crichton's insides. Oh God, he loved that voice. The mind link was good, seductive even, but the voice. He could drown in that voice and not complain once. "Now," Continued Crais. "I believe
you wanted to wash? To bathe?"

"Yes. Please."

Crais ran a trail of kisses, gentle, moist, tingling with desire down his face, his throat, the curve of his neck then up to tease his lips. He ached. Wanted him. Needed him. Loved him. Crais smiled, he knew. Carefully he guided him to a huge moulded basin half sunken into the floor of the room.
Obviously this was a bathroom, and not so different from the facilities humans would crave. He just had to watch his footing on the leviathan's skin. Warmth thrummed up through his bare feet, he could almost fancy the lights changing colour with the leviathan's mood as he reacted to his
two charges. Then Crais was undressing him. He wondered why he had bothered putting his clothes back on, but then they would not have had the pleasure of taking them off again. He grinned. Reached for Crais and started to undo his leathers.

"What are you doing?"

"Can't have a bath without someone to scrub my back."

Crais's voice was a soft purr. "Scrub your back?"

"Oh yeah," Crichton all but cooed, getting seriously turned on all over again. "You got soap?"

Soap? What the frell was soap?

"Um, Zhaan used to use a gel that made a kind of lather."

"Ah," Enlightenment dawned. "Oils."

Of course, thought Crichton, oils. Why paint in water colours when you could have oils? Much better. More permanent. More sensuous. He stood in the centre of the basin, stark naked, head tilted as he listened for the sound of Crais moving. Anticipating the pleasure of his hands on his
skin, the oil smoothing his passage as he stroked his body and clensed him of God knew what grime and bodily odour he had accumulated since coming on board this vessel. When the touch came his skin burned with pleasure, his body tingling as the masculine hands drew beautiful sensations across his body, washing the grime from him with the patience of a Saint and the skill
of a whore. God he loved his touch, body arching into the contact, every thought rushing below his waist. Mind not caring. He wondered where the water was. The oil lathering against his skin, the touch of his lover doing crazy things to him. He reached out and ran his fingers over the broad chest, the firm muscles outlined beneath his hands. "I could use some of that for you."

Crais rumbled his humour and placed some of the gel in Crichton's hand, kissing him on the lips, reluctant to let him go. His lips travelling like a reluctant prisoner dragged across his cheek until he found his ear. Tongue flicking out to describe the channel and send moist warmth ringing through his sensitive shell making Crichton shudder. He moaned, that felt so good, made him want to come there and then. Crais chuckled, knowing how sensitive that was for the human, how easily it turned him on. Now Crichton's hands were massaging him, the oils letting his hands glide frictionless across the taut strong body that strained beneath his touch. Soon they were writhing against each other, the water forgotten, the sensations everything. Crais felt for him, enclosed his hard length and began to stroke and squeeze gently as he pumped his growing organ. Crichton groaned and Crais plundered his open mouth swallowing the groan and feeding on it as he increased the feeling for his lover. Crichton ran his hands around the cheeks of Crais's ass, his
fingers exploring a side of him as yet unseen, untouched. Were they the same there too? Was there an opening he could use, a way to add more pleasure to their love making, to raise the stakes just a little? He felt, he probed, he found an opening. It was not like his. This was a moist deep cavern with ribbed lips and depths that had more muscle than a virgin's gateway. He felt
himself getting excited. Wanted to proble further, felt Crais react quite violently to his intrusion, his throat groaning with passion and lust as he inserted a couple of fingers in exploration.

His back arched, strong, broad and beautiful. Crichton kissed his exposed throat, tongue sliding down to tease a nipple, fingers outlining the muscle ridge and massaging it as he pressed deeper within those inviting moist walls. No wonder Crais had said his own opening was not big enough.
In comparrison it must have seemed an impossible fit. This was better, this was responding to him with the muscled walls gripping and sucking at his fingers, the juices flowing and making him wish he could taste them. Longed to feel those walls grasp his throbbing cock and unleash his tide of passion inside his lover. He slid down Crais's body.

"No..." The groan was soft, muted. Not from the urge to prevent Crichton continuing but because it was doing such erotic things to him he did not know if his pleasure threshold could withstand it.

Crichton smiled, his lips tasting the former Peace Keeper Captain all the way down to his treasure trove. "Kneel for me, Bialar." He murmured. His voice thick with arousal.

Unable to deny him Crais knelt. Going by touch, Crichton got himself into position and slid his head down passed the deep forest and found the moist cave waiting. Crais was panting quietly now, trying to hold on to his control for as long as he could. His stomach tight, his muscles tensed, his
body taut with anticipation. Crichton still had a couple of fingers teasing him inside, now exchanging them for his tongue. Crais jerked and groaned. Crichton played with him for a little longer, checking out the layout, where all the most sensitive parts were then guided his penis through the opening, see sawing into the entry to tease the muscles into tighter and tighter
contractions until he was held in a passionate vice that sucked and flexed around his aching shaft making him leak inside him. Now Crichton was groaning. Both men lost in the utter abandonment to shared pleasure, their love making reaching heights that neither had dreamed possible of finding in another.

Even lost in the momentum, the superb rushing build up to orgasm, Crichton still had the mind of a scientist. Logging and mapping out every new thing he discovered, making an inventory of all the new toys he could play with. What he could do to maximise the feeling and sensations for Crais, the shivers of sexual pleasure they could share. How far he could push before the waters broke, how long he could hold on before his own need swamped them both and undid all the waiting. They made love, laughed and caressed each other with such gentle care, loving the feel of emotions expressed beyond burning need. In the quiet lapping warmth of the ship's embrace they lost themselves and found something much more precious. For arns they remained in that sacred place, touching, speaking in whispers beyond even the ability of God to hear, every touch, every thought, every word spoken a litany of feelings. Emotions that bound their souls in the clumsy but precious gift of vibrant flesh. Then at last they rested. Lying folded together in utter peace. Safe in the arms of love...

* * * * *
END