TITLE: Love Like this

AUTHOR: Alison M Dobell

FANDOM: Farscape

Pairing: Crichton/Stark

SUMMARY: "Sometimes dreams really do come true."

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

SEQUEL to "CONNECTION".

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

Comments to: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

"LOVE LIKE THIS"
A "Farscape" slash story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL

* * * * *

Moya came out of starburst to be buffetted by bright red and golden particles so fine and bright that it was as if someone had set fire to the firmament. Crichton felt his heart beating so fast it ached. Fear only a microt away. "Pilot, what is that?"

"Moya is not sure," said Pilot slowly.

Aeryn was frowning. "Where's the planet, Pilot?"

A pause, then Pilot looked up, his face stricken. "It's not *there*."

Crichton walked over to Pilot. "What do you mean it's not there, Pilot? It *has* to be there. This is where Stark's home world is."

D'Argo, Aeryn, Chiana, Rygel and Zhaan exchanged worried looks.

"And what's all this bright stuff, Pilot?"

"Define *bright stuff*."

He paused and forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths. "That, Pilot." He clarified, pointing at the golden and red particles lighting the sky. Pilot checked Moya's instruments and looked up reluctantly. "Moya says it is all that is left of.....Stark's home world."

The silence was so absolute it hurt Pilot's ears. Shock registered on every face from human to Delvian to Sebaccean, to Luxan, Nebari and Hynerian. Even the Leviathan was shocked. Upset because they were. Crichton just looked out at the brilliant particles, the aftermath of a destruction so absolute that the entire contents would probably have fit inside a thimble. He stood stock still, not moving for several microts. A stunned, lost look on his face. Then without a word he turned and walked quietly out of command. Aeryn went to follow him but Zhaan touched her arm gently, her compassionate face damp with tears and urging Aeryn to let him go. Give him the privacy to grieve.

* * * * *

Crichton did not go to his converted cell. Did not even go out on the Terrace. The thought of gazing out at the stars now just conjuring up images of some vast intergalactic graveyard. He was stunned. Numb. Hopes and dreams destroyed in the measure of a single pathetic heartbeat. His pain too deep to feel anger. He walked, not caring where he went just so long as he could avoid the company of the others. He could not bear to look into their faces and see pity staring back at him. Discreetly a little DRD followed him, keeping its' distance and muting down its' little motor so as not to disturb him. It was not recording, not spying on him, just concerned. Moya's way of making sure he did not do anything stupid. Did not hurt himself. The DRD stopped. Crichton had reached his test module. The Farscape 1 sat on the apron like some patient survivor. Right now it was the only piece of home he had left. Crichton paused by his craft, placed a hand on the module and felt an absurd sense of comfort reach out to him through the walls of grief. He knew what he wanted to do now. What he *needed* to do.

He climbed into the module and sat there for a moment, then checked that all the systems were working okay. He put his helmet on and shut the canopy. Starting the flight sequence for immediate take off. No one tried to stop him. No words of caution, no wishes of luck. He appreciated their silence. It made his own easier to bear.

In command the others watched as his module left the ship. The tiny insignifant vessel heading slowly into the bright cloud of particles. Aeryn watched with tears rolling down her cheeks, knowing there was nothing she could do. Nothing *any* of them could do. Zhaan silently offered up prayers to the Goddess for both John and Stark, and all the Baniks who had perished
here. Chiana leant on D'Argo. Without looking at her he opened his arms and drew her close. Rygel felt an unaccustomed sadness and wondered how the human would cope. He looked up and his eyes narrowed slowly at the screen as he wondered how they in turn would cope with the grief of one fragile human.

* * * * *

Crichton stopped his module in what was as near as damn it the centre of the bright cloud. Glittering like stardust it took him over an arn to realise the cloud of particles was not diminishing. Not drifting. That did not happen in space. Everything acquired drift, whether from the gravity of planets or even asteroids, the spacial tides might be insignifant in places but it was always there. He straightened up and a slight frown made him check his instruments carefully. Nope. He was right. Then all thoughts about conventional science fled as he gazed at the sheer beauty he was seeing. The Magdellan Clouds had nothing on this. <God Stark, why the hell did you have to die? Is that why you came back? So you could all go together?>

He should have been angry but he was not. Just sad. On some emotional level it even made sense. He switched off everything but life support including his telemetry. Saving as much energy as he could so he could stay out here longer. The silence soothing. The presence of the particles somehow making him feel calmer, at peace. <Talk about weird, dad. Welcome to the Uncharted Territories, or at least, what's *left* of it> He closed his eyes and thought of Stark. Hoping that wherever he was, he was happy. Thinking back to when he had first met him in the Peace Keeper cell. As he relieved the memories something touched him so gently, so subtly that he was not at first aware of it. Sitting back in his pilot seat with his eyes closed, his mind drifting, it was as if Stark was with him again. His mind reaching out for him as phantom fingers touched him and drew delicious ribbons of warm fire through his body. His mind expanding to give him access to every thought, every emotion, he possessed. His nerves tingled, energy slowing humming along new pathways traced by fingers describing a physical heaven while taking his mind through every kind of emotional gymnastics imaginable. He did not open his eyes. Did not want this dream to evaporate if dream it was. Did not want to control what happened next. If he was going bonkers so be it. Bonkers he could handle. It was the loneliness that would kill him.

* * * * *

Aeryn was getting anxious. "Shouldn't we do something, Pilot? He's been sitting out there for arns."

Pilot shook his head slowly. "He is completely safe, Aeryn. Moya is monitoring and his lifesigns are stable, the module is conserving energy."

"How long can he stay out there, Pilot?" Asked D'Argo.

"Another Solar Day. Perhaps two."

They looked at each other. D'Argo straightened and Chiana looked at him. He was not looking at her but at Aeryn and Zhaan. "Then I suggest we get some rest ourselves. He will let us know when he is ready to return."

Aeryn did not respond. Hoping only that he would want to return. Not knowing what she would do if he did not. The fear was irrational. More the product of her own insecurities than any real possibility that he did not intend to come back. But irrational was what she did best.

* * * * *

He was drifting. Not physcially but mentally. Drifting in a beautiful cloud of emotion and feeling. Light wings carried him, phantom hands caressed him as a million voices sang through him making him vibrate with the intensity of their light. It was Stark's mask mulitplied a thousand-fold. Beautiful. Devine. Rescuing him from the darkness of loss and despair. Then there was Stark. His lover kissing his soul so sweetly he cried. It was poetry. Sheer poetry and he absorbed it at the subatomic level as if his very existence depended on it...

*On the wings of all my wishes
In the heart of all my dreams
Where all my thoughts are flying fishes
And nothing is quite what it seems

Still there is a shining something
That follows where'er I lead
So bright, so stunning, such a glad ring
The chains that bind me now fall free...*

Drifting, drifting, in beautiful arms that loved him. Hands kissing flesh, thoughts melding with his own in a wonderful ballet of thoughts that caressed his mind as lips burned into him with unearthly passion. He felt his back arch upward, his body crying out for Stark to touch him, to brand him with his caress, to light the fire that pulsated beneath his skin in hot dizzy little arcs of pleasure. Building, heating up inside him, throbbing through his veins with a jungle passion that rattled all his nerves and told
him he had never been more alive than he was right now. Never more sensitised to every mote in the vastness of space. Every microt of the celestial clock now ticking in his heart and mind, synchronising his thoughts with his passion. Electrifying his senses as he reached out to touch what had once been forbidden....

*Soaring, sweeping, angels' kisses
Soaking sunshine, mortal flight
Beyond the edge of sight where bliss is
Clothed you are in darkest night....*

<Oh God, what was happening to him? Oh God, don't let it stop...> He could feel Stark's lips on his own, his tongue dancing and dipping between his lips to lace his tongue with fire. Hands all over him now, gently seducing his flesh with the time honoured dance but more delicate, more knowing, more intense in the guiding of their passions as he probed him so gently. Every touch more intimate than the last. Every thought a blessing that made him shiver with joy. It was so God-damn beautiful. He opened his eyes to the sharp edges where his heart had shattered, healing tears flooding him from the light that touched and caressed and loved him so deeply. That took his breath and made it their own. Loving him way too much. Whoever was
crying it was not him this time. The song of that bright sorrow finding a path to his heart that would surely heal his own.

*Eyes open, seeing silence
Heart broken, without touch
Someone singing, someone crying
Someone loving way too much...*

<Stark. Oh God, Stark. I love you. I miss you. I *need* you...> Fingers of light burned through his flesh, the fire running up his aching cock as sensations teased him rushing the blood up his shaft and inflating the flaccid flesh, piercing through the fog of his imagined wet dream. Liquid heat rising fiercely in his groin as wet warmth washed over him, Stark's tongue titilating as he sucked the organ hardening with arousal at his very touch. <God, it felt so real it was painful> He embraced the pain. Sweet. Exquisite. Stark. Passion rocked him, Stark's hand running slowly up the inside of his leg and parting him, his fingers caressing him as he caught the throbbing head of his erection in his mouth. He jerked, delicious sensations making him tremble with the agonised pleasure of it, the need in him so rock hard that he could feel the blood thundering through his ears like the tension building in a volcano. <Oh Man, was this ever erotic> He was leaking so hard now but he did not care. Stark licked the sensitive head, tasting the juices pouring like a slow waterfall through the slit. Licking and teasing, making him jerk and tremble with desire. Crichton reached out, his hands touching blessed flesh, his mouth seeking a warm trail of their own. He was coming now, he could hear him. Taste him as his erection throbbed in the moist cavern of his mouth, the suction pulling him
out of his self imposed prison. The ice of abandonment forgotten, melted in the heat of a passion that echoed throughout his mind and body and set him free as he bounced off the walls. He came with all the grace of exploding fire. His heat inflamable. The flames his mistress just as Stark was master of his heart. The imprint of Stark left footprints in his very soul. The beauty of that orgasm sang through him as he reached for and found the echo he was seeking. The need to shower his love on his lover, to bind them so close that not even the winds of heaven could pass between them.

*Fleeting footsteps, swallowed, heartfelt
Echoes leading, mind adrift
All is fleeting as the snows melt
One thought lost a prisoner is.

Neither death nor times's destruction
Can contain these narrow walls
Where touching you brings sweet seduction
Birds sing with a siren's call...*

He shuddered, still coming, his hips rocking less eratically now as the last of the fire shot through him, was sucked out of him. He loved the feel of Stark's lips on him, his tongue clothing his spent rod with wet heat, gently washing him clean. Devouring every last drop of his scent. He stroked the beloved face, wonder in every pore of his being. <How was this possible? He was dreaming, right? This was a fantasy, an incredible, heart stopping wet dream. Right?> Stark looked up and their eyes met. Electricity sparked between them. Incredibly just looking at Stark was making him grow hard again. <But it was a dream, right? In dreams you could orgasm forever. No need to sleep. To rest between love making. To recover>

<This is no dream, John>

The thought shocked him. Not in a bad way. Just re-wrote his reality. It was blinding. Heaven never tasted so good. <Real?>

Stark did not nod. Did not want to lose the position he was enjoying. His tongue worked gently, his teeth rubbing inside the lip of his sensitive head, coaxing and sucking as the cock slowly inflated in his mouth. Loving his taste, the texture of his shaft, the way the blood throbbed as it filled the tissues his tongue caressed. A living, vibrating hunk of manhood and it was all his. Stark was not normally possessive. Banik's were not like humans in that respect. But with John he had a passion that went beyond
anything else he had touched, tasted, or known. Crichton had come out here to commune with Stark's spirit, or what he imagined would be left of it. To grieve in privacy away from the others. All that darkness had been rent assunder. Joy touched him and his heart took flight, soaring with Stark's, the whole universe their playground. Death a cruel echo of someone else's nightmare.

*What is real beyond the sorrow
As through the air eternity wheels,
We soar to rise above tomorrow
Only love like this is real.*

He sighed. The ecstasy refashioning all the dark places in his heart and soul and filling them with light. With love. And he knew with all the certainly of those in love: only love like this was real....

* * * * *

The poem "Love Like This" is the copyright of the author, Alison M. DOBELL,
c2001