As usual, flying was a form of meditation for Mark. After he had gotten used to the feel of the jet, he settled in to just enjoy flying it. After putting it through its paces, he was pleased to decide that his own Summit was the better craft.

It did, however, give him time to ponder over the conversation in the observation room. Particular, why had Prin called Shinji? And why when he turned up, had she been distressed?

He started to replay the conversation through his mind. He admitted that there was a lot of male posing being flung about, but certain things that were said he couldn't misinterpret.

Yeah - Shinji had been talking about this baby, but he'd also been talking about Princess as well. And Princess knew about him and Tiffany. That made him groan. It wasn't intentional on his part. Tiffany had, literally, jumped him. And he hadn't been strong enough to stop her.

Or hadn't wanted to. There was only so much that wanking could do to take the edge off - and whilst he wasn't going to screw around like certain Lieutenant Commander's he could name, he wasn't celibate either.

His stomach dropped as he realised that Princess wasn't either. He then flashed back to what she said in the room overlooking the training area.

She'd lied. Barefaced lied to him.

That little bitch. He was angry now. She'd lied to him not only in words, but also by implication.

She'd been fucking Shinji. And god knows who else. She'd put herself on display in a bloody wet T-Shirt competition. She smoked.

Did she even love him as she claimed? Or was that another lie?

He felt tears start as the pedestal he'd put her on exploded, showing her to be human after all.

His hands were shaking and he forced himself back into concentrating on bringing the jet back into the base.

He popped the canopy and climbed down - straight into the arms of Tiffany.

"So, how did she handle?"

He growled an answer about it being OK - but not as good as his. His eyes were fixed on the opening of her shirt, showing a good amount of flesh. Lush, inviting flesh.

She noticed and moved closer, twining an arm around his waist. He responded by pulling her into a fierce kiss, grinding his mouth and groin against her. Pulling away, he looked around the hangar and finally dragged her over to a small room that was usually used by the pilots as a handy ready room.

He slammed the door shut and was on her again, this time, his hands were pushing aside clothes, his mouth on her breasts.

"Strip," he ordered harshly, and she was already following his instructions even as he spoke. His own hands were busy unfastening his jeans, and, as she stepped out of her own trousers, he was on her, pushing her back onto the table.

He wasn't gentle. He wasn't loving. He was a young man whose ideal had just been shattered, and he was reacting to the loss of that ideal.

Tiffany didn't care. She'd wanted him even more after their previous encounters. He may not have had the experience of her other lovers, but he was definitely better endowed, and she felt him filling her as he thrust.

This was so different to last time. Then, he had been considerate, a little shy even.

Now, he was taking her and showing her the other side of him. The side that took on Spectra, the strength that made him the Commander of G-Force.

She loved it.

Realisation, however, hit as he climaxed. She felt a bitter disappointment inside as he cried out. He wasn't hers. Could never be hers.

"Princess!"