A/N: Avon is usually portrayed as, to use a term I learned from Torchwood, a twat. He seems to hold his silver-studded black armor about him as a shield to keep out the whole world and most especially anyone who might engage his emotions. But who knows what's really going on behind that armor? Maybe he's still human deep down inside, so in need of the touch of another human that he's like a child crying in the wilderness. That's the Kerr Avon I've written here, reaching out with no expectation of connecting with another human being, yet desperately needing to.
Warning: A/V, sexual situations, body parts, slash.
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Avon dreamt of heat so intense that it was painful to touch anything around him – the walls, the bed, most especially the one beside him on the bed. Both of them were stripped naked, but it didn't keep them from soaking the sheets and pillows with their sweat.
It wasn't fair, he thought. He'd finally gotten this wondrous creature alone and into his bed, but they were both too enervated by the smothering heat to do anything about the smoldering sexual tension that had been building between them for so long. There'd been an attraction from that first moment, in the crowded jail cell, waiting to be transported to a prison planet, the usual end-of-the-line destination for criminals and political malcontents that didn't fit into the pristine, safe society they'd been born into. The fact that the thief was one and he was the other hadn't especially made any difference. From then on, their fates were the same. So he thought.
Avon turned his head to find soft brown eyes staring with longing into his own. With great effort, he turned onto his side, plumping the pillow for more comfort. Stretching out his hand, he brushed beads of sweat from the high brow, his fingers straying upward to filter through the fine sandy-colored hair. Trailing down to the delicate ear, he managed, despite the heat, to produce a delicious shiver all the way down that delightful body.
A long-fingered delicate hand reached out to cup his chin and draw his lips into a soul-deep kiss that went on and on until both were breathless. It seemed a chaste kiss, nonetheless, as their two bodies, longing to touch closer than skin allowed, still flinched from the searing contact.
Avon continued downward with lightly questing fingertips, his dark-lashed eyes following their progress, while the other reached to stroke his own black silky hair, brushing the back of his neck. Delicious shivers chilled their way down his spine. He looked up into those beloved eyes and smiled lazily, then returned to his explorations.
Bypassing his ultimate goal, Avon traced soft circles and spirals upon the white inner thighs, raising a gasp, a moan, a thrown back head. In silence, he finally moved upward to begin slow strokes designed to drive a man wild – and succeeded admirably as, with a cry, all the other's feelings crested in a crescendo of colors and lights and sound.
Then all was still, only their breathing betraying life. Avon realized suddenly that all the time he'd been pleasuring his lover, he himself had become magnificently aroused.
His lover languidly smiled down at his majesty standing stalwartly at attention. As Avon fell back to lie flat, the other man moved closer as though drawn by cords of desire. Reaching across, careful to touch only with fingertips, the other smilingly traced down the tech's well-muscled body, lazily stroking along, bringing startled gasps of pleasure and breathlessness very had for Avon to overcome in the blanket of heated air. When the fingers scaled his erection and began to stroke rhythmically up and down, he largely forgot to breathe altogether. With little warning, Avon came, arching upward and straining to scale new heights of sensations.
Relaxing to the sheets, he tried to remember how to breathe again. He lay there and sighed, feeling boneless and totally sated. Turning his head on the pillow, he smiled up into his beloved's face. Reaching out to take the hand lying between them…
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Vila hovered nervously around Cally as she checked Avon's vital signs yet again.
"The fever is still very high, but his system is putting up quite a fight. I think his fever will break soon and, when it does, you'll have to get him covered and warm quickly. If you don't, he'll relapse to a worse state than he's been in so far."
She turned to face Vila. "Do you think you can handle this, or do you want me to stay with you? I think I can manage a couple more hours if I have to." She sighed wearily, having spent the last ten hours at Avon's side, trying to counteract the effects of an infection brought back from a planetary visit. His collapse had been sudden, complete, and thoroughly frightening to all of them, especially herself and Vila.
"No, no, I'll be all right alone with him," Vila protested, looking down at the restless form of his friend on the medical couch.
Cally left silently behind his back as Vila picked up a sponge and dabbed the perspiration from Avon's face. Then he stood in silent regard, just looking worriedly at Avon, so pale and beautiful. On impulse, he leaned forward and gently kissed Avon's lips.
Feeling better, Vila pulled up a chair and seated himself near Avon. He scooched himself more comfortably in the chair, took Avon's limp hand in his, and settled in to watch and wait.
Predictably, since he'd been with Avon quite awhile himself, as time passed he fell into a light doze, only to be awakened by Avon's shaking, thrashing hand in his own. Jerking awake, he sprang from the chair. Finding Avon shaking uncontrollably, his eyes searched the room for a blanket and spied a stack of them, just beyond his reach.
When he tried to disengage his hand from Avon's, his eyes flew open in wide-eyed protest. "Don't leave me, Vila, now that I've finally found you. Don't go, please, don't go," he pleaded, still in the throes of his illness.
Casting about desperately for something to provide the warmth he must give Avon at this critical moment, he saw nothing in reach. So, giving his all, he climbed onto the medical couch with Avon. Still holding Avon's hand, he put his other arm about Avon and pressed himself to Avon's rapidly chilling body. As his warmth and bodily contact began to take effect, Vila felt his hand released as Avon subsided into a peaceful sleep. Vila put his freed arm also about Avon and held him tightly until Avon felt thoroughly warm. He hoped no one came into the medical section to find them like this. Avon would be embarrassed, he thought, and he, Vila, would bear the brunt of Avon's uncertain temper. Still, he was enjoying holding him so close, just as he'd always wanted but been afraid to propose to the dark tech.
With a sigh, thinking he dared to leave Avon's side long enough to get the blankets around him, Vila began to disengage himself from around Avon. However, the man wasn't about to release him. At the first movements, his eyes opened to stare into Vila's.
"Don't go, now that I've found you at last," he murmured, hoarse and gravelly.
Vila, thinking Avon still delirious, made soothing noises designed to lull him back to the sleep he needed for recovery. But Avon's eyes stopped him. They were clear and lucid and searching his own.
"But…but Avon," the thief stuttered, frowning, "you need blankets around you! Just let me up so I can get them, okay?"
"I don't want you to leave me now – or ever. I think I need you beside me forever. Just lay here a bit longer, Vila," he pleaded.
Startled, happy, and apprehensive all at once, Vila replied, "Avon, I've wanted to hear those words from you for so long I think I must be the one delirious now." He pulled Avon closer and stroked the damp, dark hair.
Avon's muffled voice came softly, "I dreamed about you, Vila…about us, really. I've known that I loved you for awhile now, but couldn't find a way to tell you. How could I tell you, living like this, on the edge of disaster? It seemed pointless to entangle you in my desires. I realize now that it doesn't matter if we die tomorrow, just as long as we're together now."
He pulled back from Vila, searching the soft brown eyes gazing back at him.
"Do you understand, Vila? I love you and want to make every moment count between us." Then he waited for Vila to speak, to fulfill or condemn his dream.
Vila was silent, causing Avon's heart to pound painfully with uncertainty. The thief knew that Avon's regard and attention could flip as quickly as a Federation fighter in combat, but, all the same, wasn't this what he'd wanted for so long? Was it worth the danger, the tension, for even a moment's affection? Shouldn't he gamble on his own happier future, just this once?
Finally Vila spoke. "It's what I've wanted all along, but I never had the nerve to say or do anything to tell you. I thought I'd lost you to this infection and fever and it tore me up inside to think of all the missed opportunities for us. Now we'll have to make up for lost time, I think." A little smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His brown eyes twinkled, thinking of all the ways they could conspire, in private, making up.
At last he pleaded reasonably, "Now, can I get the blankets for you?"
"Yes, Vila," Avon murmured, letting his drooping eyelids slide shut, slipping peacefully back into sleep.
Vila carefully withdrew from Avon, climbing off the med couch, and retrieved the blankets. Spreading them gently, he was careful not to wake the sleeping man. Then he smiled down at Avon, kissed his cheek, and returned to his seat next to the bed.
Taking Avon's hand again in his, he too slept.