Summary: Tyr ambushes Harper. Companion to Betrayed.

Codes: Harper/Tyr

Disclaimer: Tribune owns all rights to Andromeda. I just borrowed them for use in my twisted little tale.

Rating: R

Spoilers: Very brief mention of TWG and "Exit Strategies."

Feedback: Please! I love praise and constructive criticism, but flames will be used to roast the pig in my next luau.

Archive: Ask first and I'll probably say yes.

Authors Note: I was working on Betrayed and this snippet walloped me upside the head. So I finished the former and decided to write this, if for no other reason than to get it to stop hitting me.

Coerced

By B.L.A. the Mouse

Harper drummed on the table as the music went into the thrill of a heavy beat with screaming strings. It was only one of the popular releases that lasted two weeks before they got annoying, but it wasn't bad as the type went. "I don't care what happens to you," he sang with it, "I ain't never gonna cry for you-"

He cut himself off as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something was wrong. He paused the music, one hand reaching for the nearest tool that could conceivably inflict damage. There was something in the room that shouldn't be, and he wasn't talking about larvae. Flipping the tool into position for defense, he tried to make light of it; even as he swiveled his head, scanning the room, he said, "Beka? Trance? If you guys are setting another booby-trap for me, I'm onto you."

Without sound, Tyr moved from the shadows, coalescing into a more familiar form. If Harper hadn't been looking right at him, he would have sworn that it was impossible. "It's good that you're cautious."

"Yeah, but if you didn't sneak around I wouldn't have to be," he retorted, setting the tool down and turning the music back on. He was surprised to see that Tyr didn't flinch at the volume- it had to be painful for Nietzschean hearing.

Instead, he stepped closer to the table and Harper. "Even on this ship, it pays to be wary."

"Really? It's paying? 'Cause I ain't seeing a check." He turned back to his project.

Tyr disregarded the sarcasm, drifting closer. "Where did you learn it? On Earth?"

"No, that was luck. I picked it up while I was living a luxurious life in the spacelanes."

He could see Tyr moving out of the corner of his eye. Before he could account for it, the Nietzschean was by him, crowding him. Tyr hovered behind him, one hand on the table by his hip. Too close.

"Ah, Tyr? Personal space? Ever hear of it?"

"Yes." He didn't seem too intent on taking the hint.

"As in, you're invading mine?" Harper squirmed a little, hoping he'd go away. Even aside from how strange he was acting, Tyr was only an inch away from his back, and that was enough to send all his alarms blaring, especially since- Oh. God. Breath on the dataport, Tyr's breath on the dataport... "So, go away," he managed. It was weak, and a little breathy, but better than what he really wanted to say. Why is it that the Nietzschean knows exactly what to do?

Tyr had to have known what he was thinking, with the uber super-senses and all. He stayed close, sending little puffs of warm air over the port as he spoke. "I need you to do a favor for me."

I am a bad, bad, perverted person. He did not mean it that way... even if his hand is on my shoulder... and his other hand's on- Harper yelped, wriggling away from where Tyr had chosen to rest his hand. In certain contexts, grabbing his hip could be bad, certain contexts being any context that involved them and a deserted room. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I told you that I require a favor." Tyr had stepped back, but not by much. He looked serious, but not totally aware.

"You mean that kind of a favor?" Harper stared- this was way too weird. Surreptitiously, he pinched his leg, just to check.

The music shut itself off, leaving them in ringing silence. Tyr didn't answer his question, not in the traditional sense. Instead, he stepped forward, catching his arm and bringing him close before he could react. "Hey-!" but he couldn't protest anymore as his mouth was covered by Tyr's. He wasn't sure what happened then, since all his nerves were concentrating on his mouth and sending trails of fire down his stomach. His fingers tangled in braids and he pulled hard as expert lips played with his.

He was being crushed against the table, the metal digging into his tailbone. Tyr was pressing against him, smothering him, until Harper yanked his hair, needing to breathe. Tyr released him, freeing him for air, but caging him with his body and arms.

"Okay," Harper panted, "what... the hell... was that?"

"I told you, I require a favor." He was calm, even-voiced.

"Yeah, I got that. But would this be for my charms or someone else's?" He had to be suspicious; Tyr had never expressed interest in any part of his body, especially the one he happened to be- "Hey! Groping! No feeling of the ass!" He shoved the hand away, resisting the urge to put it back.

Tyr gave him an odd little half-smile, pressing just that much closer until Harper could have told he was interested even if he hadn't been... well... "Why else would I be here?" Not waiting for an answer, he started sucking at a sensitive spot on Harper's neck.

"Yahh... Tyr..." No. Can't do this. Want to, but really can't. He twisted away, which roughly translated to him pressing harder against the table. "Sorry, but I'm gonna have to play hard to get until I figure out what you've been drinking. Have you found Dylan's liquid stash?" He got a puzzled look. "Never mind."

"Boy," Tyr... nuzzled him, for lack of a better word, and Harper couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or not. "I want you, I assure you."

"And you only decide to do this after I get wriggly new bunkmates why?" His mind blanked for a moment as Tyr lightly licked the skin next to his dataport.

"Your engineering skills are prodigious. For you to give up hope would endanger myself as well. I believe that perhaps I should give you one more reason to live."

Before Harper could protest, Tyr kissed him again, sliding one hand up his neck to hold the back of his head. His thoughts evaporated as Tyr bit his lower lip lightly, then slowly met his lips. He felt fire building low in his belly as Tyr teased the tip of his tongue with his own.

He didn't notice Tyr unfastening his pants until they slipped over his hips, gathered around his ankles. Harper pulled away a little, going to protest, as until Tyr unfastened his vest and his mouth went dry. "Um..."

It was not the time to argue, Harper decided- he could figure out what was going on in Tyr's mind later. He kicked off his boots and pants and jerked off his shirt. He didn't get any further; Tyr pulled him in and started biting his neck.

"So, how exactly does this not violate Nietzschean principles?" Harper asked, sitting curled on the pillow.

Tyr was lounging across the cot, his head near the foot of the bed. His expression was redolent of the cat that ate the canary. "It doesn't. Take my word for it."

"So why didn't you just ask Beka? I'm sure that she'd be willing to help."

"That would violate Nietzschean principles." Tyr lazily eyed him. "Hercules had a male lover. Did you know that? Those vaunted Earth heroes frequently had a wife for procreation and another male for recreation. Nietzschean society... models that."

Harper figured that that must have been why Tyr had called Beka's name in bed with him.

The End