TITLE: "FRELLED"

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

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

"FRELLED"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

Scorpius watched as Crichton was strapped in the chair again. He was still naked, none of the guards daring to allow him the comfort of clothes without the express orders of their quixotic Commander. Scorpius was pleased he had regained consciousness but knew he would have to go slowly, work on much reduced power. That did not mean he could not use his wiles to frighten the human into thinking much worse was still to come. After all, it was often the anticipation that caused the most stress. He smiled as Crichton watched him, too weary to raise his head.

"Your resistence is foolish, Crichton."

"Yeah, well you can't blame a guy for trying."

The half-Scarran purposely allowed his eyes to travel down Crichton's naked body. The human shivered involuntarily with disgust. "Is this the new Peace Keeper torture? Take a man's clothes off him until he surrenders?"

Scorpius said nothing but slid the control, watching Crichton jerk as memories were excited and reflected onto the screen through the head piece. Crichton gritted his teeth, seeing the images, relieving the emotions that accompanied them while all the time aware of Scorpius watching his
reaction. The memories flashed and flickered as if Scorpius was looking for something. It hurt so much but at least the chair was not up to full power. For some reason the half-Scarran was not pushing him to his limits. He dared to hope he might hang on without passing out this time. That was before his tormentor found what he was looking for. Crais. His heart missed a beat, the sight of his lover doing crazy things to his heart. Tears breaking as he fiercely tried to block the images. Stop Scorpius from ripping them out of his head. Images of Crais touching him, murmuring endearments as they slowly made love.

Scorpius smiled with satisfaction and allowed his eyes to travel slowly down the human's body, lingering for a few microts as if weighing up his potential, making Crichton increasingly uneasy. He did not want the bastard touching him. Bad enough that he should make him relive all his most
intimate moments with Crais without laying his hands on him while he did it. He could feel his tension building. Fear replacing anger. He did not want to think what might be going through Scorpius's mind. He smiled at the human, opened his mouth and slowly ran his tongue around his lips as images of Crais kissing, licking and frelling him scrolled across the screen by Crichton's head. He shivered right down to his toes as Scorpius touched him. Just a light touch of his dark nail drawn slowly down his chest was enough to set him trembling. He had been too stimulated for too long, his reaction automatic. Every cell in his body urged him to fight the restraints, to get the hell out of there. But he was too weak and the restraints were too strong. Besides. No way was he going to give Scorpius the satisfaction of watching him fall apart at the seams.

"Leave me alone, Scorpius. Why don't you get yourself someone else to play with? You must have friends equally as sick as you are..."

The half-Scarran realised that Crichton's humour was an escape mechanism. The only defence he had left and even that was cracking. His smile started to broaden, real pleasure dancing across his cruel lips as he ripped the images out of Crichton's memory, enjoying the hot tears of anger and sorrow running down his cheeks. Scorpius's eyes glittered with dark purpose as they followed the line he was drawing down Crichton's skin. He shivered with dread as the fingernail continued through the hair on his chest down towards his crotch. "Humans and Sebacceans are so similar," Mused Scorpius. He took hold of him and stroked him, matching the strokes and pressure of his
hand on his penis to coincide as closely as possible with what his lover was doing to him on the screen, his eyes flicking to Crichton's face, watching him intently. "I wonder if they are anatomically the same?"

Crichton said nothing, biting his lip so hard that he drew blood. He did not like the way that Scorpius was caressing his shaft, his strokes making him quiver, his look thoughtful, his touch exploratory. Becoming more intimate as he watched the tender heat of passion build so beautifully between him and Crais on the screen. A judder went through Crichton as he tried to think of something else, then his tormentor started to squeeze on his shaft between strokes, his other hand running back and forth across his chest, brushing his nipples before going down to his hips. It seemed to please and fascinate his enemy to watch the human's penis inflate in his hand while his captive's blue eyes blazed in pools of silent hatred laced with fury. His anger the more intense for being unspoken. "I could so easily rape you, do you know that Crichton?" He whispered.

He said nothing. Fear like knives of cold steel inching through him with dread.

"But then, you know that." He whispered, continuing to stroke his erection, feeling the blood pulse up his shaft, fingers flexing as he rode the sheath up and down as he had saw Crais do, watching Crichton's pained expression as he tried not to react. He was so hard now, the engorged organ throbbing beneath his tormentor's touch. He tried to block out the sensations, the inevitable arousal heating the base of his spine. It was a lost cause. Scorpius was not at all interested in Crichton sexually. Got nothing out of touching him and arousing his body to betray him. What mattered was the fear it invoked in the human. The terror he tried to hide, the way he quailed at the thought of what Scorpius could do to him. After all, the chair had a limited use now. Too much would surely kill him and he had already gone too far. The human was fragile but amazingly resilient. You had to know not only when to apply the pain but also when to ease off. Not only what buttons to press but also the sequence in which to press them. This change of tactic was having a most pleasing result.

He kept arousing the human, taunting him with images of Crais to heighten his reaction to his touch, but stopping just short of allowing him to orgasm. Bringing him repeatedly to the edge so that it was painful. He could tell how much it was costing the human but he did not speak, would not give up this last secret. Scorpius paused, looked down at the sweat drenched human, his glistening prize. Noticed the head of his shaft was leaking heavily. He drew his nail sharply along the aching cock from base to head and watched the ejaculate fountain out of him in a sudden pained spasm. The look in Crichton's eyes was one he would long savour. His mental pain and
anguish far outweighing the half-Scarran's physical violation of him. Scorpius smiled at him, though he was perplexed that he could still resist him. It should not be possible. Crichton was weak. Inferior. On some level he respected him though he would never tell him. The man insisted he was no warrior, just a scientist, yet he had shown more courage than some of Scorpius's elite officers. He looked at the sunken red rimmed eyes now closing in oblivion. The body starting to look emaciated where he had lost so much weight. Part of him did not want to torture Crichton like this but part of him also got a charge out of it. A sense of power. He stepped back and indicated for the guards to take him back to his cell. Ensured they were not too rough with him. That they would put food down for him this time. After all. Crichton was no good to him dead.

* * * * *

He was placed in his cell with more care this time. As if the Peace Keepers realised he was getting close to the end and not wanting to be held responsible for him when he went over the edge. One of the guards paused and he put water and a bowl of food on the floor near Crichton's head. Something that might have been compassion flitted briefly across his face. He gave his
comrade a look and waited until she walked round so that her position blocked the view of the camera to whatever he was doing. Carefully he dipped one hand in the bowl of water and dribbled it a couple of times across Crichton's parched lips. The human did not react at first, so far gone it did not penetrate. Then his lips moved as if in prayer and the water revived him enough for the eyelids to flicker and eyes of china blue to pierce the guard. He could hardly speak, was barely conscious, but he recognised an act of kindness when he was privvy to one. "Thanks..."

His voice was so soft that it was barely audible. The man nodded then Crichton passed out. He looked up at the woman, his expression concerned. Her eyes warned him to leave well alone and reluctantly he rose to his feet and put a blanket over him. They left quietly.

A quarter of an arn later a tiny scratching noise behind his head made him stir a little. He was so thirsty, so damn cold. He drifted again oblivious to the little access plate sliding open. The two DRDs exited with caution, one staying close to the wall while the other climbed up the wall of
the cell to the camera. Once the camera had been set to a fixed image, the DRD rejoined its' companion and they rolled anxiously over to where Crichton lay. Zhaan relayed instructions to them via Moya. She wanted to see his face so the first DRD rolled around to face Crichton, little muted beeps and whirs showing concern and distress. She asked the DRD to bump into him
gently, to rouse him if he could. The DRD did as he was told but Crichton did not move. No reaction. Zhaan instructed the DRD to use his small disruptor, a brief shot should do it. Preferably in the shoulder or arm. Definitely not near his face, especially his eyes.

Crichton was dreaming. Or rather, he was having a frelling nightmare. Again. He was not in the chair this time but was bound by two inch wide straps of leather not to the arms of the chair but in some kind of weird sling contraption. Beneath the straps he was naked, bits of his anatomy visible through the wide leather grid of straps that circumvented his body and held him in thrall three feet off the ground. Scorpius was grinning at him whip in hand, dressed in long leather boots and with a thin stilleto knife in the other hand. <Oh God, Scorpy wants to give the Marquis de Sade a run for his money. This is definitely *not* good> He started to squirm, trying to get free when he felt a sharp prick as the knife bit into his flesh. He swore. "Oh frell!" His lips moved as he muttered in his sleep but he did not wake. Zhaan noticed and urged the DRD to fire another small charge. This time he jerked, the dream torn away from him as the tiny bright pain penetrated and told him to say "Ow!"

The images filtering back to Moya filled her crew with a terrible rage and sense of urgency.

"We have to go *now*!" Insisted Aeryn.

No one disagreed with her. Pilot looked up. "Moya is being given co-ordinates for the Peace Keeper Command Carrier."

"At last!" Muttered D'Argo impatiently.

Chiana's head tilted. "What's the plan?"

D'Argo expression was dark and uncompromising. "We go in there and blast the hezmana out of Scorpius and bring John back."

"Great." Said Chiana. "We rescue John only to get him blown to squag."

"Scorpius will not simply hand him over." Grumbled Rygel as if that justified D'Argo going in guns blazing like some archetypal hero in some bad western. Did it really matter if the bad guys killed you or the cavalry did the job? Dead was dead.

Zhaan shook her head gently. "We will not be blasting into anywhere." D'Argo scowled at her but before anyone could complain and start arguing, she explained. "The DRD's have a plan."

"What?" Blustered D'Argo in shock.

Chiana looked amused. Her expression as she cocked her head at Blue was one that looked suspiciously like respect. She was getting to kind of like the little guys.

Aeryn's eyes narrowed. "What plan is that?"

"They want Moya to send in a transport pod, and leave it drifting in the path of the Command Carrier."

"And?" Said D'Argo.

"They want the pod to be empty."

"Wait," Interrupted Aeryn. "Empty?"

"I was going to explain. They want it to be empty except for several dozen DRDs."

Rygel shook his head in disgust. "You are completely fahrbot. That's what comes from letting a mechanical toolbox do your thinking for you!"

"For once," Said D'Argo unhappily. "I have to agree with Rygel."

"Where are we going to be or is the pod a diversion?" Asked Aeryn.

D'Argo's interest piqued. A diversion would make sense, give them a chance to sneak up on Scorpius while he was busy checking out the pod.

"No. The idea is based on a story Crichton told the DRDs."

Rygel put his hands over his face and groaned. "It gets worse."

"I believe it was some kind of horse."

"What the frell is a horse, Zhaan?"

"I'm not sure D'Argo but it seems to be an animal from John's home planet." She paused. "In the story the horse was made out of wood and was hollow inside. The soldiers hid inside the horse and when the enemy found it they thought it was a gift so they took it into their camp. At night
the soldiers climbed out of the horse and were able to overthrow the enemy from the inside."

D'Argo nodded. "Then we are supposed to hide inside the horse, which in this case is the pod?"

She shook her head. "No, sweet D'Argo. The Command Carrier would be able to pick up our lifesigns and know the pod was not deserted. That's where the droids come in. They would not register on the instruments especially if they are hidden in a deactivated state until we are sure they are safely aboard the carrier."

Chiana was having difficulty with how any of this could possibly help Crichton. "Zhaan, I know the DRDs want to help but this has to be the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard."

"Perhaps but once the Carrier picks up the pod and checks it out, the DRDs on it will be reactivated and able to get out and look for John."

"We *know* where John is." Said D'Argo sarcastically.

"Yes, and so do the DRDs. They will each have a cannister of melar gas inside. Once all the DRDs have infiltrated the command carrier and taken up their positions a signal will be passed from Moya for the gas to be released then within microts the crew will be unconscious and we can go in and pick up John."

The silence that fell was absolute. Aeryn was the first to find her voice though it was a lot quieter and more hushed than usual. "The DRDs came up with this plan?"

Zhaan was smiling, looking fondly at Blue and the DRDs crowded into the room. "Yes. With a little help from Moya."

"Tell me again what *we're* supposed to be doing, Zhaan?" Said Aeryn.

"We will be waiting aboard Moya just a short starburst away. When the DRDs have done their part we will be given a signal. That is when we go in."

Rygel looked around at the DRDs, then at Zhaan's face. All eyes turned to the monitor and looked at Crichton lying unconscious on the floor of the Peace Keeper cell. He shook his head slowly and felt sorry for his friend. "We are frelled!"

* * * * *

Jothee had never wanted off anywhere as badly as he wanted off Moya. Listening to Zhaan's crazy rescue plan just convinced him even more that if he stayed they would get him killed. Total incompetence. It completed the work of your enemy in a fraction of the time. He would have spoken up if he had thought there was any chance they would listen to him, but it seemed that
even the beligerent Dominar wanted to help rescue Crichton. No one noticed him slip away. They were all too excited and keen to iron out the timing of their ludicrous plan but at least it gave him the diversion he needed. Jothee slunk away to make plans of his own. Oblivious to the little DRD
quietly following him back to his temporary quarters, little servo motors muted in the droid equivalent of walking on tip-toe.

* * * * *

Crais listened in silence. He had not been present when Zhaan had announced the plan. Talyn's pull on him had been too strong and the leviathan was getting nervous again. After the Builders had clashed Talyn had been subdued. His shocked withdrawal almost a physical pain which Crais
shared. Nothing Crais could do or say would help so he calmed the leviathan as best he could then made his way back to Moya. Now dark humour was skating over his face and quirking at his lips at Aeryn's news. Aeryn had to admit that after her initial shock the plan did warrant some merit. Crais thought so too. "It might work."

Aeryn was tempted to laugh outright. "It's the sort of plan Crichton would have come up with."

He raised his eyebrows. Whenever the human annoyed Aeryn or did something particularly stupid he was always referred to as Crichton. He only became John again when Aeryn forgave him or forgot she was supposed to be mad at him. D'Argo and Zhaan had gone to prepare the transport pod, a little sea of DRDs following them. It made him chuckle. Chiana had gone to talk to Pilot, wanting him to assure her that this plan really could work. Rygel had gone to get some food, his rising anxiety affecting all three stomachs at the same time. For the moment, Crais and Aeryn had a little time alone together. Crais gave her a level look. "What can I do?"

She raised her eyebrows. "You *want* to do something?"

He frowned. "Of course. It is my fault he is back in captivity."

"You couldn't do anything about that, Crais. Scorpius left you no choice."

"I know but it has left a bitter taste in my mouth Aeryn. A taste I will only wash out with Scorpius's blood."

She hid her surprise at his quiet affirmation. Crais had changed. It was in subtle ways that would not be immediately obvious to the others but she could see it clearly now. As if Crichton's ways were somehow rubbing off the sharp edges and lending him some of the strange alien humanity
that so typified the human's gentle nature.

"I thought John was your enemy?"

He seemed amused. His reaction fascinated her.

"I told you I had changed, Aeryn." His look was frank. "I think we all have."

She could not argue with that. "Alright, Crais, but we'll need to speak to Zhaan and the others. The more help we get the better, especially if this little *plan* blows up in our faces."

To her surprise Crais smiled. A beautiful dark curve that gave her hope. "Where is your faith, Aeryn Sun?"

She felt like answering *lying in a Peace Keeper cell* but she did not. Something told her Crais already knew.

* * * * *
end