TITLE: "WHERE ALL THINGS ARE"

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 "SHARING"

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

"WHERE ALL THINGS LIE"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *

Aeryn left Crichton and Crais. It felt odd going, leaving them, but it felt stranger staying. She was not sure how she felt about the arrangement. It had felt so right, such a beautiful thing. Now. In the afterglow of love she felt the need to think things through. To find out how she felt and what
she wanted. Was this what she wanted? Could she live like this, sharing Crichton with Crais? Hezmana, sharing Crais with Crichton? Giving herself to two men? Two different alien species, one Sebaccean, one human? It was bizarre yet it seemed to work. She shook her head and felt a sense of reality start to return to her as she drew nearer to her own quarters. This had to have been a dream. Things like this just did *not* happen to Aeryn Sun. This was the sort of dren that happened to Crichton. Crichton. A wicked smile danced on her lips as she relived some of the things she and Crais had done to him, the way his spine snapped when he came. She could taste his precious fluid as he came, the way it felt to hold him in her mouth as he shook. She closed her eyes, running every image, every sensation back through her mind in delicious slow motion. Feeling his fingers inside her driving her crazy. The way his hands felt on her body, his tongue doing all kinds of beautiful things to her, her body arching into his, insane with need. Crais adding his dark fire to theirs, never detracting from the action but deepening the erotica as if he somehow knew just what to do and when to do it.

She sighed and opened her eyes. Feeling herself becoming moist again just at the thought of their love making. She almost turned right round and went back to them but managed to stop herself. What was she thinking of? She was no tralk, she was Aeryn Sun. But for a microt. Just a single
microt, she wished she was a tralk. Able to jettison any troublesome morals, anything that cautioned her that something this enjoyable had to be a sin or at least rationed. It was stupid and made no sense but the strict confines of the Peace Keepers had made her guilty of her pleasures. As if she could only relax and be really happy when she had their permission. It annoyed her, irritated her, and at times she did rebel. Even did the Aeryn Sun equivalent of throwing herself into the human's arms, except he did not seem to know what to do with her once she was there. Probably too stunned and frightened of doing the wrong thing by assuming consent not given. This though, this took all the initiative away from them and gave them free reign to express their feelings, explore their sexuality. So why did she feel so frelling guilty?

* * * * *

The Nebari vessel came out of starburst within a thousand metras of the Peace Keeper Command Carrier. Zarok checked the Carrier was ready for them to land when Orla came to him. She seemed a little agitated. Zarok looked up, his calm white face expectant. "Something troubles you?"

Orla gave a slight bow. "Your pardon, but there is something odd."

He frowned. "Odd? How?"

She was shaking her head. "I cannot explain it. It seems to be attached to the Carrier."

"Show me."

Orla touched a control and a three dimensional image spun slowly in front of them. Zarok looked at it for several microts. "It looks like an escape pod."

Orla nodded. Zarok looked thoughtful. "Open a communication to Scorpius."

Scorpius listened. His bored indifference sloughing off him like a snake shedding its' skin. Interest piqued. His crew was now quite recovered but their quarry was gone. So what was this? Zarok watched the Scarran half-breed smile at him on the monitor. "I will allow you the honour of bringing the escape pod in with you, Zarok."

He bowed. Scorpius did not cut the communication immediately. He looked thoughtful. "Did you detect any transmission signals from the pod?"

Zarok shook his head. "No."

"Life signs?"

Another shake of the head. "Nothing, Commander."

"Curious." Said Scorpius, his excitement muted. "We will take no chances, Zarok. Escort it in but do not attempt to open it. We will examine it thoroughly first then open it in a controlled sealed off hold. I do not want any *unpleasant* surprises."

Zarok bowed and the image disappeared. Scorpius cut the communication. He did not want another episode like the melar gas. His crew hid their nervous looks. Scorpius hid a smile of dark amusement, the glint of curiosity tempered by the determination not to be taken by surprise again. Their enemy was nothing if not resourceful. Enough to know the pod came from Moya. What he wanted to know was why. What was it doing here?

* * * * *

Crais and Crichton finished eating, feeding each other for the simple joy of doing so. The meal took a lot longer but that was part of the pleasure too. Crais wanted to clear a few things up with his lover, explain so that he would understand. Crichton assured him it was not necessary but Crais loved him too much to take the easy way out plus he wanted to know exactly what had happened to him while he was in Scorpius's clutches. After Aeryn had left they had bathed together, the warm frothing oils lubricating their bodies as they slowly clensed each other. Then they had dried off and lay entwined together in one of Talyn's pod bays to sleep, the leviathan
lulling them with his song. They had not bothered to dress, enjoyed feeling the recycled air stir against their naked bodies, the touch of a hand, the graze of an eye on a naked limb, food for the eyes as well as the soul. So they finished resting and slowly woke in the pod bay, happy and content. Crichton rolled on to his back, Crais lying on his side looking down at him, the dark
curve of his mouth serious for a moment. His right hand gently stroking Crichton's chest, enjoying the feel of the soft hairs that adorned his torso. Crichton watched him, wondered why he was so serious. Talyn pulsed gentle warmth up through the pod bay to add to their comfort.

"I promised Talyn I would never let him fall into Peace Keeper hands again."

Crichton watched the shadows on his lover's face. "What about me?" He asked softly.

"I only made one promise to you, John." He gently raised his hand from Crichton's chest to touch his cheek. There was such love and tenderness in his touch. "And it was not spoken."

Crichton trembled, memories flooding back to him that he tried to block out. Crais looked at him with concern, his fingers gently stroking his face to calm him. Seeing the pain in the human's eyes. "What did Scorpius do to you?" He asked softly.

"He touched me, Bialar."

"Touched you? How?"

There were tears forming in his eyes as he relived each dreaded touch, the sly leer on the half-Scarran's face. As he spoke the tears broke cover and ran silently down his cheeks. "He ripped out my memories of us making love." His voice started to break. Crais trying to comfort him. "He
watched us Bialar, made me watch, while he touched me. Violated me."

Anger, pure and so intense it burned raged through Crais. Murder in his eyes. Despite the residual pain in his shoulder he shifted his weight closer to Crichton, gently wiping away his tears, kissing his cheeks and tasting the salt.

"I was tied to that damn chair, Bialar..." He continued, his voice low, so full of emotion. He kept reliving everything that had happened, could not stop shaking. Crais was upset. Sorry he had asked.

"Sssh, it's alright, John. You're safe now. Safe."

Crichton shook his head, eyes red rimmed and haunted. "Not safe, Bialar. Never safe. Not while that bastard is still out there."

Crais nodded. Inwardly raging. Incensed that someone could do this to his gentle John. Incandescent with rage that it was that abomination Scorpius. This time the half-Scarran had gone too far. He vowed he would kill him if it was the last thing he did.

* * * * *

D'Argo was looking for Jothee but could not find him anywhere. His patience - which had never been infinite - was getting even shorter. Anger building at the lack of response to his summons. "Jothee! Jothee, where are you? I want to speak to you."

Zhaan heard him bellowing his son's name and left her apothecary to see what was wrong. "What is it, sweet D'Argo?"

"I can't find Jothee."

"Is he missing?"

The Luxan shook his head. "It is more likely that he is hiding. He hides even better than Crichton."

Her astute look seemed to see right through the Luxan. "That is not what concerns you is it, sweet D'Argo?"

His angry eyes softened just a microdench. He lowered his voice. He was not angry with Zhaan. "Why do you say that?"

She tilted her beautiful blue head and smiled gently at him. "Perhaps you should talk about what is really bothering you."

His expression clouded over again. "That is not necessary. Chiana and I have come to an *understanding*."

Zhaan's voice was soft, neutral but compassionate. "I was not speaking of Chiana."

He gave her a keen look. "Then who?"

"John."

There was a long pause. His anger deflated like a balloon that has had all the air let out of it. "How did you know?"

She tilted her head. "You called him Crichton. You have not done that for monens."

He nodded slowly. Zhaan walked back into the apothecary with D'Argo. "It is none of my business Zhaan but I am a Luxan warrior." She nodded to encourage him to continue. His eyes flared once with anger then he calmed down again. "This *thing* he has with Crais," He said
bitterly. "It is wrong. Dangerous."

Zhaan gave him a blank look. "What thing with Crais, D'Argo?"

"Do not play the innocent with me, Zhaan. You know that they are lovers."

For the first time since he had known her, D'Argo saw genuine surprise and shock on the Delvian's face.

His voice took on a tinge of awed surprise. "You did not know?"

She shook her head and sat down quickly. Stunned. "How do you know? Perhaps you are mistaken."

D'Argo snorted derisively. "I am a Luxan. I could smell them whenever they were together."

Her eyes widened. "You *spied* on them?"

"No. I do not have to spy on anyone, Zhaan. I could smell the sex on them and it disgusts me."

Zhaan was absorbed in what he was saying, still trying to come to terms with the knowledge. "They were enemies, D'Argo. We should rejoice that they are no longer enemies."

"So you approve of this coupling?" He asked carefully.

"It is not for me to approve or disapprove."

"What about Aeryn?"

Something clicked in Zhaan's head. Ah, Aeryn. That explained D'Argo's reaction. He was not simply upset because Crichton and Crais were becoming partners but because of what he saw as a betrayal of Aeryn. It all made perfect Luxan sense.

"What about Aeryn?"

They both turned to the doorway to see Aeryn standing looking at them expectently. D'Argo had a guilty look on his face but Zhaan recovered much more quickly. "Ka D'Argo has lost his son," Explained Zhaan smoothly.

Bad tempered again, D'Argo tossed his head. "He is *not* lost."

Aeryn looked confused. "Then what is the problem?"

D'Argo paused a microt, reluctant to have to make the admission. "I cannot find him."

"And you thought you would find him here in the apothecary?"

Anger flared in the Luxan. "If you do not want to help me look Aeryn just say so!"

She looked at him for a microt, expression blank. "You want me to help
you?"

He puffed out the last of his anger with a breath. "Yes. I cannot ask Chiana and Zhaan has not seen him." He paused. "I think he is angry with me because I have been ignoring him. I just need to see him, to explain."

Aeryn nodded. "I'll help you, D'Argo. Though you realise he still may not want to see you? He may just need some time on his own."

D'Argo nodded, grateful. Zhaan watched them leave, her thoughts drifting to Crichton. Was D'Argo right? Had the human really taken Crais as a lover? And if he had what would it mean for the rest of them?

* * * * *

Scorpius was waiting for them when they disembarked. The small escape pod from Moya had been moved into another cargo hold and sealed there. No personnel were in that hold and Scorpius was ready to jettison the pod if it proved to be another trap. Zarok and Orla were curious. "It is just an escape pod. Why such elaborate precautions?"

"Do not underestimate your enemy, Zarok."

The Nebari raised his eyebrows and fell silent. If Scorpius wanted him to know he would tell him. He glanced at the secluded cargo hold and wished he could watch them open the pod. As if divining his thought, Scorpius smiled slowly, his death's head little more than a grin in search of
Halloween. "I was hoping Zarok, that you could....help me with this little...puzzle."

"How so?"

"You are a most ingenious race. Your workmanship is impressive."

Zarok looked puzzled. "It is just an escape pod, Scorpius."

"Ah, but is it?" The half-Scarran paused. "How can you be sure?"

Zarok contemplated for a microt. "What do you think it is?"

"A trap."

"And you wish.....me....to spring this....trap?"

Scorpius grinned. "Exactly."

In the event it was a lot less dramatic than any of them expected. Zarok and Orla worked on a remote device and used it to open the pod. When the pressure hissed out, a single limp form tumbled into the empty cargo bay. For once, Scorpius was speechless. Zarok looked disappointed. No poisons. No nuclear detonation device. No phototonic power surge to wipe out
all their telemetry. Just this. An unwanted gift. He looked at Scorpius. "It is dead."

The half-Scarran recovered quickly. "I don't think so."

Zarok followed his eye and watched as the bundle of rags started to move, slowly, painfully. His mouth opened in surprise. Scorpius demanded the door be opened and entered with a PK clash unit. He circled in on the figure slowly, coming face to face with it as it sat up. The surprise on
Scorpius's face matched that on the face of his captive. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the half-breed nobody wants!"

Jothee looked at him with a sullen expression, his dark eyes realising his position with all too much clarity.

"Give me one good reason," Said Scorpius as he leaned towards him. "Why I should not kill you?"

"Because," Said Jothee with an ugly sneer. "I can give you Crichton."

* * * * *

Crichton was calm now. Crais had managed to distract him, his lips caressing him as his hands plied him with pleasures he had only just begun to explore. The human groaned and stirred slowly beneath him, his lover dipping his head to follow his collar bone down with delicious little nips and sucks as he ran a hand up and down his hardening shaft. Not enough to over excite him but enough to tease.

"Bialar,"

"Umm?" He felt Crichton shift slightly.

"I'm thirsty."

Crais licked a nipple, suckled on it, flicked it with his teeth and watched his lover's body arch deliciously. <Talyn will take care of it>

"Talyn?"

Crais nodded then bit him gently. He opened his mouth just as a soft fleshy tendril slid up over the pod bay and brushed across his chest. "W...what's that?"

<Nothing to worry about. Just drink>

"Drink?"

The tendril slid up his chest and brushed up against his lips. Alarmed, his eyes widened and he closed his mouth. <You have got to be kidding?>

Amused, Crais bit his other nipple playfully and Crichton opened his mouth to cry out. The tendril slid into his mouth and he almost gagged. Crais raised his hand and stroked Crichton's throat, kissing his cheek then trailing his lips down his throat, the sight of Talyn's tendril in
Crichton's mouth turning him on.

<What the hezmana is it?>

<A vessel for drinking>

<Drinking what?>

Crais stroked his face then licked the corner of Crichton's lips. <Open your mouth, let me show you how this works>

Obediently he opened his mouth. The tendril stayed where it was, the soft fleshy extension laying in his mouth on his tongue. Crais flicked his tongue inside, careful not to push the tendril too far inside his lover's mouth. He did not want to choke him. Crais took the tip of the tendril in his own mouth then drew back and sucked on it gently, the tendril responding by releasing its' juices. He gave a soft moan of pleasure then kissed Crichton gently so that he could pass the tendril back into his partner's mouth. Now he caressed his lover's tongue, encouraging him to embrace the
tendril, to suck and massage the tip with his tongue. Crichton followed his lead, surprised and pleased by the honeyed fluid that slid from the tip and trickled like nectar down his throat. Crais licked his throat and encouraged him to swallow. Crichton sighed. <Man, this is so good. What is it?>

<Mostly nutrients, it will not only quench your thirst but feed you too>

<I never knew Talyn could do this>

<You're lucky he likes you>

<What's that supposed to mean?>

Crais chuckled and resumed stroking a hand lightly up and down his erection, enough to distract Crichton from too many questions. <It means if he didn't like you there would be nothing for you to drink. No food, no comfort, no nothing>

He said nothing, his pressure on the tendril increasing which caused the fluid to flow faster. He liked the control he had, using his tongue to massage what he wanted when he wanted it. He tried not to think about what might be in the fluid but it was such a relief to his dry throat, the unique
flavour could easily become addictive. He loved it. He felt the leviathan's pleasure at his response and the fluid thickened slightly. Little ripples of pleasure ran through his body and he shivered slightly from his head to his toes. <What was that?>

Crais smiled. <Thank you>

Then Crais slid down and took him in his mouth. Every other thought left Crichton's head. <Oh God, I'm gonna die>

His partner's tongue on him as he sucked him and settled into finding the rythym that would effect him the most was making him squirm, his hips starting to rock beneath him but Crais was ready for him. As he rocked forward he slid his hands under him, finding the entrance he wanted
and starting to work on him. Crichton wriggled. Uncomfortable. <Dry, too dry...>

Without saying anything to Talyn, the tendril slid out of Crichton's mouth and slid down his body. His mind was reeling. What the hell? Then he felt it. The fleshy tendril moving up against his entry, the head now leaking something much more viscous. Warm and glutinous. He closed
his eyes against the weirdest sensations as the tendril started to harden and push inside him. <What the hell are you doing to me, Crais?>

<You'll like this, John...I promise you>

<Oh God..>

The head was hardening and thickening at the same time, the sides becoming ribbed and both fleshy and firm, throbbing inside his tight walls as the lubricant coated him easing its' passage. It went all the way in, snaking around inside him and filling him with weird but erotic sensations.
Crais was still sucking on his shaft, his teeth now under the cap as his tongue licked back and forth across the slit on the head tasting the precum and encouraging him to leak harder without letting him come all the way. Not yet. He was groaning heavily now, his limbs so limp he could not have struggled if he had tried. He felt something hot wash him inside, not unpleasant but it clung to his insides as if it was sticky. Then the tendril relaxed and became soft again, slid out and back up inside his leg and across his chest. He felt Crais finger him gently, lining him up for his own penetration. God he was so close. Almost without being aware of it, the tendril slid back between his slack lips and fed him. Only a little when he asked for it. When he did not the soft fleshy head caressed his tongue and gently stroked the inside of his mouth like another tongue. He felt the penetration as Crais slid his penis into the entry, so smooth and in a beautiful rocking motion that mirrored the movements of his own hips except Crais was deliberately slower. Working him up to a frenzy of excitement, want and need making him tremble and shake with desire. Then he shoved deep inside, his penis flicking up hard at the end as it met his prostrate. He gave a great cry, not of pain but of surprise and ecstasy, his ejaculate swimming between them as Crais pumped hard inside him, pushing up against his prostrate again and again until he thought the level of stimulation and sensation would kill him.

His throat was dry from crying out, his body shattered and spent. His lover collapsed over him like a blanket of flesh. Warm and sated. He automatically sucked on the tendril, drinking gratefully to slake his thirst, then the tendril slid out of his mouth and left him to sleep. His last
thought before he drifted off into the sleep of exhaustion was to wonder whether he would ever be able to frelling walk again...

* * * * *
end