Title:"Brothers At Play"

Author: Aiobheann

Fandom: Farscape

Paring: John Crichton/Ka D'Argo

Rating: NC-17

Status: New

Archive: Yes, please.

Series/Sequel: Part three of the "Brothers" series, preceded by "Blood Brothers" and "Sword Brothers"

Disclaimers: These characters don't belong to me -- wish they did. They do belong to Henson and SciFi. I just play with them in my spare time. No copyright infringement is intended. The characters may not belong to me, but the story does -- story copyright Aiobheann, 1999. Please do not archive on any other site or repost without my permission... but do ask if you want to, I'm easy.

Summary: This story is set in the same universe as the other stories in the "Brothers" series, and is a follow-up to "Sword Brothers." In fact, it occurs a few arns after SB -- the boys are still in bed. Fun ensues.

Warnings: Graphic m/m sex.

By Aiobheann

Crichton awoke with a start, disoriented for a moment and wondering why he was sleeping at the edge of the bed in his quarters. Shaking his head, he looked around, taking in the Qualta blade leaning in the corner and D’Argo’s clothes draped across the chair. His own clothes and boots lay strewn on the floor. That answers one question, he thought. I’m not in my quarters. He rose on one elbow to look at the other side of the bed. D’Argo lay asleep, face relaxed and less forbidding than when he was awake.

Crichton lay back down, remembering everything that had happened after he had come to talk to D’Argo about the blood oath, about being sword brothers. He shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, and felt the warm length of D’Argo’s thigh pressed against his own. The contact of skin on skin brought back the sensations of a few arns before, and a hot flush filled his cheeks. What the hell am I doing? he asked himself. I’m lying here next to another man -- well, a male Luxan, he amended silently -- that I just had sex with. He could feel the prejudices that had been ingrained in him by culture and upbringing raising an alarm of protest, throwing words like ‘fag’ and ‘queer’ at him. After a moment of thought, he silenced those voices with a swift mental kick.

Since he had ended up here, he had come to accept any number of things -- microbes that swam around in his brain and translated alien languages; living, not to mention pregnant, spaceships piloted by a guy with four arms; a two foot tall talking muppet and a blue woman -- why should this be any different? He had come to realize that what he had told Aeryn not long after they met was true for himself as well -- he could be more. More than just the things that he had accepted as truth, as less than a choice. More than the attitudes that had rendered the situation he was in here, now, unthinkable.

He rolled over on his side, careful not to wake D’Argo. He didn’t feel like talking right now, just wanted to think and work this whole thing through in his mind. He watched D’Argo sleep, amazed at the way he was feeling toward him. Not love, exactly -- or at least, not the way he had felt about Alex. He wondered what she would think if she could see him right now, and after a moment decided that it didn’t matter. Maybe this wasn’t where he had always expected his life would take him, but he figured that if it meant that he had someone he cared about, and who cared about him, then anatomy and, well, species, didn’t make a difference. He laughed softly, picturing he and D’Argo in a very twisted version of "Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner?" I can see it now: "Dad, this is my boyfriend. Um, yeah, he’s an alien."

D’Argo snorted in his sleep, opening his eyes. "What’s so funny?" he rumbled.

"Nothing, big guy. Just thinking me thinks."

D’Argo stretched, giving him that look that meant he had no clue what Crichton was on about and was chalking it up to him being a human. "Can you do it more quietly, then?"

"Sorry. I forgot you needed your beauty sleep." Crichton said, finding himself admiring the long lines of muscle in D’Argo’s torso as he settled back against the pillows, curving colorful tattoos chasing each other across the rippling of his skin. He looked back up at D’Argo’s face, seeing that he had confused him, yet again. Stupid microbes, he thought.

"It was a joke, OK? Forget it."

"I will never understand you, Crichton." D’Argo said, shaking his head.

"That’s OK. I don’t understand me sometimes either. So, what now?"

"What do you mean, what now?"

"I mean, do I go back to my quarters? Do you want me to stay here? What?" Crichton asked, feeling his cheeks burning again.

"You can stay here if you want. I don’t mind." D’Argo replied, rolling over on his side to face Crichton.

"OK. You going back to sleep?"

"Not now, since you insist on talking." D’Argo grumbled, but Crichton could see a smile hiding under the edges of his moustache.

"You want me to shut up?" Crichton asked with a grin. "Make me."

D’Argo looked angry and startled for a moment, and Crichton realized he may have pushed him too far. Maybe Luxans didn’t play well with others, he thought, wondering whether he was about to get flattened.

"Make you?" D’Argo said slowly, an unreadable expression on his face.

"D’Argo, I didn’t mean --" Crichton said, his words cut off by D’Argo pouncing at him and clamping a hand over his mouth. Crichton stared in amazement over the hand muzzling him at D’Argo grinning broadly, strong thighs straddling Crichton’s waist as he pinned him to the bed.

Crichton reached up and pulled D’Argo’s hand away from his mouth. "Man, I thought you were gonna kill me for a second there!"

"I thought about it." D’Argo said, still smiling.

"You’re just playing, right? You’re not gonna rip my head off or something?"

"No. I thought ‘playing’ was what you were after." D’Argo said, sitting back.

"Well, yeah --" Crichton began.

"Then shut up." D’Argo said, and put his hand firmly over Crichton’s mouth again. He bent toward Crichton, the hand over Crichton’s mouth forcing him to turn his head to the side. He kissed slowly down the length of his throat, teasing and light. Crichton squirmed under him, pinioned by D’Argo’s legs gripping his waist, feeling his hardening cock rubbing against D’Argo’s ass. The kisses moved down, to his shoulder and collarbone, D’Argo nipping gently with his teeth, drawing an indistinct sound from Crichton behind the silencing hand.

D’Argo moved his hand away without lifting his head from Crichton’s shoulder.

"So this is your idea of -- ummm -- playing?" Crichton asked weakly.

"Yes," D’Argo answered, his voice muffled now as he moved up to search for the sensitive spot behind Crichton’s ear.

"I think I like this." He laughed, the laugh trailing off into a low groan as D’Argo found the spot he’d been seeking, leaving him writhing under the pressure of lips and tongue as D’Argo relentlessly teased and nibbled. "Like necking in high school...except it was usually me doing this to some girl in the backseat of my --"

D’Argo lifted his head, looking sternly down at Crichton. "You," he said, hand returning to clamp down over Crichton’s open mouth, " -- talk too much." He could feel Crichton’s mouth moving under his hand, felt a velvety stroke as Crichton licked the palm, and from the look of Crichton’s eyes, visible over the side of his hand, he could tell Crichton was grinning. Grinning back, he went on with what he had been doing before Crichton’s insistence on chattering distracted him.

He moved down on Crichton’s body, their erections rubbing together as he stretched out atop him, devoting his attention to the plane of Crichton’s chest. Crichton was moaning under his hand, jerking with a smothered gasp as D’Argo’s teeth came together delicately on his nipple. He worried at it with his teeth, and gasped himself when he felt a sharp nip on the palm of his hand. He pulled his hand away, looking up at Crichton.

"No fair biting when I can’t bite back," Crichton scolded, craning to look down at him.

"You wanted to play. You never said anything about rules." D’Argo answered.

Crichton laughed, realizing that there was more of a sense of humor lurking behind D’Argo’s stern demeanor than he had ever guessed at. "OK, rule number one: No --"

"No rules. Don’t you trust me?" D’Argo cut in.

"Well, when someone says ‘trust me’, that’s when I start to worry."

"You ought to trust me. I am your sword brother." D’Argo said, a serious look on his face.

"I never said I didn’t trust you, D’Argo." Crichton answered quickly, afraid he had hurt D’Argo.

"Good." The serious look disappeared, replaced by a wolfish smile. "Then you will understand that you belong to me, and I make the rules." Crichton felt himself being flipped over, found himself lying facedown on the bed, D’Argo pressed against his back, hard cock pushing insistently at his ass. A hand stole around to reassert itself over his mouth, stopping his cry of surprise midbreath. The other hand roamed free, groping and squeezing.

Realizing he was trapped, and that D’Argo was not going to play nice, he tried to relax, but the hand moving over his body prevented that, eliciting gasps and moans and tensed muscles. He found himself pushing back eagerly at the cock that was grinding at him, the tension and friction of the sheet against his own painful hardness agony and relief at the same moment. D’Argo pulled away, and before he had time to protest, he was yanked up at the waist, D’Argo kneeling behind him, cock pushing between his legs to brush against his balls. He groaned, struggling up onto his hands for more leverage, trying to rise up onto his knees to press his backagainst D’Argo’s chest.

He felt D’Argo’s hand pushing him back down onto all fours, felt D’Argo curve his body down, fitting himself against him as Crichton swayed on hands and knees. The hand over his mouth loosened to cup his face, pull his head back far enough that he could see D’Argo looming over his shoulder. D’Argo’s mouth brushed against his ear, filling his head with a low growl as he thrust his hips forward, grinding against him. He felt D’Argo’s other hand slip from his waist, down to his aching cock, gripping and stroking with rough grace.

"If you keep doing that --" Crichton managed to gasp out.

"I know."

Bucking against the hard body that held him down, Crichton came, unable to hold back any longer. Boneless and exhausted, he tried to relax, tried to drop to the bed, but D’Argo held him up with one hand, the other milking the last of his release from him. The hand stroking him gave one last squeeze and then withdrew as D’Argo pulled away again, slick fingers probing at Crichton’s core.

"What are you gonna do?" Crichton asked suspiciously, squirming as two fingers impaled him, sliding past the ring of muscle and inside.

"What do you think?" D’Argo said from behind him, the arm around Crichton’s waist tightening its grip, preventing him from moving away from the fingers exploring him.

"D’Argo, I don’t know about this --" Crichton began.

"You don’t have to know about anything. Just shut up." The fingers withdrew, replaced by the tip of D’Argo’s cock as he bent over Crichton’s back again, the roughness and command of his voice belied by the gentle kiss he pressed to the nape of Crichton’s neck, soothing and coercing in the same heartbeat.

Slowly and relentlessly, D’Argo thrust forward, the effort of control transmitted to Crichton through the tremors of the body molded to his. Crichton sucked in breath, hissing through his teeth as he was stretched and invaded. D’Argo’s movement stopped at once, allowing Crichton the time to try to relax protesting muscles, to accept the invasion and find that he was eager for more.

"I’m OK," he muttered, feeling D’Argo’s smile against his shoulder as he moved forward again, pressing deeper and deeper until his hips ground against Crichton’s ass. He stopped again, waiting, cheek pressed against Crichton’s shoulder as he listened to Crichton’s deep breathing slow down as he became accustomed to the sensation.

"All right?" he asked.

"Sort of." Crichton answered, feeling himself pulled along by the force of D’Argo’s will, despite the discomfort of the first thrust. D’Argo stretched his hand down to enclose Crichton’s soft cock, teasing and stroking it back into life, the pleasure slowly overtaking the pain, making him begin to push back, tentatively.

"Better?" D’Argo breathed in his ear, and Crichton answered with a low moan. Recognizing the need in his partner’s voice, D’Argo began to move again, gently, but soon building to a relentless tempo that swept them both up until they moved as one, harsh breath and groans melding into one voice. Crichton cried out, shattering the spell as he came in D’Argo’s hand, feeling D’Argo thrust into him as he came too. They collapsed on the bed, Crichton spread-eagled on his belly, D’Argo covering his back as he came to rest on top of him.

"Hey, can you let me breathe again?" Crichton said after a few moments. D’Argo obligingly rolled off, flopping onto his back.

"Whoa." Crichton said softly, looking over at D’Argo wonderingly. D’Argo smiled back, folding one arm behind his head, the other reaching out to lay a possesive hand on Crichton’s back.

"Do you think the neighbors could hear us?" Crichton asked, and D’Argo surprised him by roaring with laughter. Score one for the microbes, Crichton thought with a grin.

-30-