Diplomatic Relations part 1/2 by Galenn Jeffrey Sinclair, first Earth ambassador to Minbar and leader of the Rangers, knocked his opponent down and swung his Minbari fighting pike towards his exposed throat, stopping the end of it a bare millimetre away from a potentially killing blow. "De fahurst!" the Minbari said, holding his arms out, his own fighting pike forgotten on the ground beside him. Sinclair pulled his weapon back and lowered it to a neutral position, then bowed. When he straightened again, he smiled and extended a hand to the fallen warrior. "So, Kozorr, have I finally learned that sequence properly?" The Minbari took the offered hand and stood. "Yes, I would say you have," the warrior answered, ignoring the urge to rub at the sore spot on the back of his leg where Sinclair had struck him. He allowed himself a smile, pleased with his student's progress. Very few could take him in an honest fight; Sinclair's performance was outstanding for a human, and, he reflected, for many Minbari, too. "Most impressive," a voice spoke from the doorway. Sinclair and Kozorr spun to face the door. They both recognized the voice, but hadn't heard his approach. The other Minbari in the gym, who had been doing their best to look like they were still practicing and *hadn't* been watching Sinclair's and Kozorr's bout, immediately stopped whatever they were doing, turned to face the speaker, and bowed. Sinclair and Kozorr bowed, then Sinclair said, "Satai Neroon." Neroon nodded a response, then walked into the gym. He stopped before Kozorr and Sinclair, and said, "You seem to have learned our fighting style quite well." "Thank you, Satai," Sinclair said quietly. He reached up to wipe sweat from his forehead, noticing that Neroon seemed somewhat upset by the damp hair sticking to his forehead. Neroon tried not to wrinkle his nose at the sweat soaking Sinclair's shirt, and held his hand out to Kozorr. "Your pike," he requested. Sinclair raised his eyebrows as Kozorr picked up his weapon and hesitantly held it out to Neroon. "Satai?" Kozorr asked when Neroon hefted the pike with one hand and unfastened his cloak with the other. Neroon stripped off the cloak and his tunic and handed them to Kozorr, then he nodded to Sinclair. "So, show me what you've learned, Entil'Zha." Sinclair glanced at Kozorr, who shrugged, then he nodded to Neroon and said, "Are you sure you want to do this?" He added, quietly enough that only Neroon could hear, "I *have* beaten you before..." "I was not at my best then, Entil'Zha," Neroon said quietly. Before Sinclair could respond, he took the 'ready' position and looked pointedly at the human. "As you wish, Satai," Sinclair said, taking the ready position across from Neroon. A quick glance around the room told him that they had gained quite an audience, all the Rangers and other students were standing in a group, watching. Then Kozorr stepped back from the mat, raised his arm, then swung it down and said, "Begin!" The two combatants circled each other in the center of the mat, expressions unreadable, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Sinclair knew Neroon well enough to know that the first move would inevitably be the warrior's. Neroon's temper and impatience were well known to all, while his own restraint and control had been remarked on more than once. He breathed deeply, relaxing and letting instinct take over. Through meditation and some bruising lessons under Kozorr, he had learned that if he *thought* about his responses, that slowed them, but if he just *reacted* -- by reflex, conditioned response to certain subtle movements and changes of expression made by his opponent, or whatever -- he could parry or evade nearly every attempt. Neroon, as usual, did not disappoint. Frustrated by Sinclair's serene focus and ability to wait seemingly forever, he snorted and lashed out with the fighting pike. Sinclair smoothly countered the move, although the strength behind the attack caught him a little surprised. Neroon was strong to begin with, and angry, with the Minbari equivalents of adrenaline and testosterone thundering through his body, he was stronger than any human Sinclair had ever fought. The slight grunt of effort that escaped Sinclair spurred Neroon on. A dizzying series of feints and attacks followed, Sinclair able -- barely -- to keep up with them but do little more than defend himself. _It's time,_ he thought. Now that his opponent had attacked, an offensive move would be the correct response. He had seen enough of what passed for Neroon's style to see where the weaknesses lay. The next parry became an attack, forcing Neroon off balance. Sinclair got in a number of quick jabs and swings, all of which Neroon managed to deflect until the last. Sinclair feinted towards Neroon's shins, and the Minbari moved to deflect the strike. At the last moment, Sinclair changed directions to swing upwards, intending to hit Neroon's shoulder and disarm him. Unfortunately, Neroon was caught unprepared, his momentum carrying him right into Sinclair's swing, but lower than he would have been if he had been anticipating the direction change. The fighting pike struck Neroon's bone crest with an audible CRACK, and the warrior Satai crumpled to the mat, lying silent and unmoving. When Neroon went down a collective gasp rose from the onlookers, then utter silence descended on the practice hall. Sinclair could feel the eyes staring, darting nervously from him to Neroon and back again. _Damn damn damn!_ he thought, tossing his fighting pike aside and dropping to his knees at Neroon's side. He hurriedly checked to see if Neroon were conscious and breathing. He was relieved, slightly, to find the warrior breathing, but disturbed when he didn't respond to gentle shaking. He moved to a better position, kneeling by Neroon's head, and peered at the craggy bone crest. There was no sign of visible injury, but the way Neroon had just dropped unnerved Sinclair. He'd been warned that the Minbari crests could be sensitive, but didn't really know how seriously he may have hurt the warrior... His subconscious registered Kozorr sending one of the Rangers for a healer, and he could *feel* the nervousness of the onlookers, but his focus remained on the unconscious Minbari before him. Wanting to keep Neroon as comfortable as possible, Sinclair pulled him up into his lap -- it wasn't exactly the proper angle for Minbari sleep, but it was better than letting him lie flat. He noted that Neroon's eyelids flickered, but beyond that there was no sign of the warrior regaining consciousness. _This is not good,_ he thought, distantly aware of the low murmuring among the onlookers. Neroon wasn't exactly the most likable of Minbari, but he was a member of their governing body and leader of the Star Riders clan. And besides, against his better judgement, he had come to like the warrior. He had spoken occasionally to Neroon after he took over the Embassy, and learned that despite differences over the Earth-Minbari War, they had a certain affinity for each other. If Neroon had been seriously injured... Very carefully, very gently, he probed at Neroon's bone crest, pushing to the back of his mind the surprise at the velvety feel of it when he had expected hard bone. Suddenly the murmuring stopped. Completely. The sudden, deafening silence caught Sinclair's attention, and he turned to see what everyone was looking at. Him? Why were they staring at *him*? And why, on earth, with such expressions of shock and -- fear? No, that wasn't quite right -- apprehension. _Oh...no... They don't think I'm actually some EarthFirst nut who's been waiting to bump him off, do they?_ During his musings, the gentle probing at Neroon's crest had become absent stroking, as if he were smoothing someone's hair. He was startled by a gasp from one of the watching Minbari, but before he could turn his attention to him, Neroon groaned quietly and his eyes slowly flickered open. Suddenly the apprehension in the room became an almost palpable force. Sinclair glanced up to see every Minbari, and even some of the humans, staring at him -- at his hand still gently stroking Neroon's crest. _What is going--_ he thought, interrupted by Neroon sighing and pushing into the stroke almost like a cat _--on._ Suddenly the pieces fell into place -- he'd been warned that the crests could be sensitive, but no one had ever said in what *way* they were sensitive... Neroon suddenly snorted and bolted from Sinclair's arms, unsteadily lurching to his feet and looking down at him. Kozorr moved to steady him, but he pulled away to stand on his own. Sinclair rose to his feet, unsure if an apology would be an even worse transgression. He never got the chance, however, as Neroon carefully bowed and said, "That was a good blow, Entil'Zha. *Next* time you will not trick me as easily." Sinclair bowed in return and carefully said, in the warriors' tongue, "I look forward to our next match, Satai Neroon." Neroon smiled very slightly, then turned and took his tunic and cloak from Kozorr's hands. He started to stride out of the training room when the healer finally arrived. "Satai, I was told you were--" "Out of my way -- I am unhurt," Neroon ordered, shouldering his way past the healer and striding down the corridor, the light from the windows and crystals reflecting off the thin sheen of oil on his bare skin. The healer looked around the room questioningly, his eyes settling on Sinclair and taking in his distressed expression. "Entil'Zha?" "I -- I think he is unhurt," Sinclair confirmed, still feeling the others staring, although they were once again trying not to be obvious about it. He looked at Kozorr and said, quietly, "I think I should apologize to him... I think I've had enough fighting lessons for the day." Before Kozorr or the healer could respond, Sinclair also edged past them and hurried down the corridor. --==**==-- Neroon finally slowed his strides when he reached the wing that housed private quarters. He wanted, very badly, to put his tunic and cloak back on, but he couldn't bring himself to have the heavy fabric touching his skin. He knew that no one seeing him would breathe a word about it, but to be so out of control, out in public, where *anyone* could see him... _And,_ a quiet voice in the back of his mind dared to add, _that was not really the worst of it... To be alone, with no one to help...no one to--_ His train of thought was cut off by the sound of footsteps hurrying after him -- he had *almost* made it back to his rooms... "Neroon, please, wait!" It was, of course, Sinclair. Catching up to him easily with that smooth stride of his... Suddenly he was there, close enough to touch -- close enough to smell... _Curious -- they always smelled bad when they sweated *before*,_ Neroon found himself thinking. Then he realized Sinclair was saying something to him -- apologizing. He held up a hand for silence and opened the door, then ushered Sinclair inside, ignoring the voice which asked, _What are you doing?!_ Sinclair raised his eyebrows, but entered Neroon's quarters, trying not to appear too nosy as he looked around the sparsely furnished room. The door slid closed behind him and Neroon walked past him, noting as he did so that Sinclair stiffened when he passed by. He turned to face Sinclair and asked, "What did you want to say to me?" Sinclair swallowed hard, attempting to keep his eyes on Neroon's face and not look at the almost flushed tone of the usually pale skin, or the way the oil made the light shine off the warrior's muscular torso. _Oh, that worked well,_ Sinclair thought wryly. "I--" he started, his voice a lot rougher than he had expected. He cleared his throat and tried again, "I wanted to apologize -- for...for embarrassing you in public like that. I didn't realize..." He trailed off, seeing Neroon's nostrils flare and his eyes grow wide. "Neroon?" Neroon smiled wryly, realizing that putting himself in an enclosed space with Sinclair had been a mistake. That warm, slightly spicy scent was once again tickling his senses, making his head spin... "You--" Neroon began hesitantly. "I -- your apology is accepted." "Neroon, are you all right? I know I hit you pretty hard..." Sinclair asked, taking a step closer, his concern evident in his brown eyes. Neroon involuntarily took a step back, and Sinclair's eyes widened in alarm. "My god -- I--" "No, I am not hurt. I am not afraid of you. It is just that--" He paused, trying to calm the sudden pounding of his heart -- that scent was maddening, and now he could *feel* Sinclair's warmth. It was too much -- it had been too long and the opportunity was all but throwing itself at him. Suddenly he let his tunic and cloak drop to the floor, and launched himself at Sinclair, bringing the human down with a startled grunt as they hit the floor. The thick, insulating rug absorbed some of the impact, but Sinclair was stunned by Neroon's sudden attack. Before he could recover, Neroon's hands had slid up underneath his shirt and were stroking his sides, his chest, pausing for only a moment as he encountered body hair. Neroon straddled him and leaned close, nuzzling against Sinclair's neck, barely taking care to make sure he didn't jab Sinclair with his crest. He groaned and breathed in Sinclair's musky scent, feeling it set fire to his blood. Sinclair's eyes were wide with surprise when Neroon pinned him. He had realized the nature of the crest's sensitivity when Neroon had pressed into his caress, but he hadn't expected the warrior to *act* on any urges. And yet, here he was, trapped beneath the warrior while he snarled softly and -- and buried his nose practically in his armpit?! _Oh dear,_ Sinclair thought as Neroon's strokes became more insistent -- his shirt was pushed up about his chest now, baring much of his torso. Neroon bent to lick at his collarbone and a shiver coursed through him. _I should stop this..._ he thought, knowing that the potential repercussions could be disastrous. _He's a Minbari warrior and doesn't really like humans -- he only tolerates me because he says I talk like a Minbari..._ But the heat and slippery feel of Neroon's skin was starting to make his head spin, and his cock, trapped by his trousers and straining against Neroon, seemed to have its own ideas. "Neroon," he gasped as the warm hands stroked over his chest again, "We shouldn't -- oooh..." His protests dissolved into a groan as the warrior bent to nuzzle his nipples. "Neroon!" As the warrior lapped at one erect bud, he reached up to Sinclair's head, fingertips first caressing his temples and then sliding back into his hair. And freezing. Neroon sat up, staring down at Sinclair in horror, then leapt to his feet, lurching away from the panting human. "Go!" he ordered shakily, keeping his back to Sinclair so he couldn't see what condition his body was in. "I am sorry, Ambassador," he continued stiffly, beginning to relax very slightly when he heard Sinclair grunt and stand up. "My...behaviour is inexcusable -- the time of claiming Clan-leader's privilege is a thousand years past and I--" He stopped so suddenly he nearly bit his tongue when Sinclair walked up behind him and touched his shoulders. "Neroon," Sinclair said softly, "calm down." "*Go*," Neroon growled, beginning to tremble. _In Valen's name -- he is a human -- an *alien*! But part of him is so Minbari it calls out to me every time we are together... It has been so long, and Valen help me, I *want* him!_ Then Sinclair's hands slid down from his shoulders to his back, gentle caressing strokes that left shivers in their wake. _I don't want to stop this any more than he does!_ Sinclair realized, surprised by the hunger that filled him. He grinned wryly, reflecting that he really shouldn't be all that surprised -- he never had dealt well with celibacy... "What if I don't want to?" Sinclair breathed in his ear, then gently licked the area where bone crest touched skin. Neroon moaned and Sinclair could feel the sudden burst of heat at every point their skin touched. He brought his arms up, encircling Neroon and pulling him back into a gentle embrace, then turned his attention to the skin at the warrior's temple. Neroon had been caressing him there before the hair reminded him he was not with another Minbari, so... He brought his right hand up, brushed Neroon's temple with a featherlight touch, then drew fingertips along the very edge of the bone crest, marveling again at the surprising velvety texture. Neroon moaned and sagged back against him, his legs suddenly forgetting how to work. Sinclair smiled and traced the same line with his tongue. Neroon moaned raggedly and pressed into the embrace, then gasped, "In Valen's name..." (to be concluded in part 2) Babylon 5 is (c) 1997 PTEN & Babylonian Productions. This story is not intended to infringe on these copyrights. Diplomatic Relations is (c) 1997 Galenn