A/N: Part Two of Chapter Four of Thieves in Time. As the Liberator begins to make itself known to the Federation, the crew settles in and Blake plots to bind Avon to his Cause. Warning: mature content!
The usual disclaimer: I own nothing of Blake's Seven. I just enjoy messing with their lives.
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They had been on the LIBERATOR for some months now. The crew, as diverse a group of outlaws and rebels as Avon could conceive of, had more or less integrated into a well-functioning whole. They'd investigated and pried continually into the ship's capabilities until they felt confident in pushing its limits when circumstances called for it. For most of them, the LONDON seemed light years behind them.
Avon, however, still brooded about his experiences there and in the holding cell before that. Aboard the LONDON and later the LIBERATOR, Vila and Avon had gradually returned to the bantering, Alpha/Delta backtalk they'd known in years past, but somehow the sex never crept back into it. They'd kept their past together a silently-agreed-upon secret.
From his station, Avon surreptitiously watched as a caged lion paced the deck, a lion that wore Roj Blake's face and spanned the area with Blake's powerful strides. He listened as the man snapped out orders and responded to conditions and reports. The cause Blake fought for Avon had long since deemed a losing one. Still, the man himself intrigued him.
He glanced at Vila, realizing he'd been caught watching Blake. He could almost hear the thief's thought: He fascinates you, doesn't he, Avon? And you don't even know why. Well, go on then, you've always made your own mistakes, haven't you, even when I tried to stop you.
But things were taken out of everyone's hands. Just as Blake's pacing took him past Avon's station, the LIBERATOR rocked, taking a direct a hit, throwing its commander to the deck, with Avon toppling on top of him. Instinctively, they clasped each other, trying to avoid further injury. As their eyes locked, sparks flew that had nothing to do with exploding circuitry.
Time seemed to stand still for the two men, or perhaps they had just escaped its inexorable stream. Questions and answers flew silently between them, unheard and unguessed by the others, with the probable exception of Vila.
What's this, then?
Don't know, but it feels quite good, doesn't it?
Undeniably. What does it mean?
Perhaps we should study this further – in private?
An excellent idea. Later.
Avon and Blake disengaged from each other and resumed their stations. The computer tech happened to glance up, catching Vila's frown. He saw and he knows. I'm sure I'll get a private lecture on choices and stupidity later. He smiled a predatory smile. What the hell. I am committed to this folly already. I might as well go all the way with it. I am sorry, Vila. He lowered his head, trying to hide his smile from the thief, who always saw too much for his own good.
The balance of the mating dance was accomplished under the very noses of the rest of the crew. Vila surely knew and Cally, fast becoming friends with both Vila and Avon, suspected. Gan and Jenna hadn't a clue.
It wasn't just happenstance that after this, during the battle when turbulence shook the ship, the two men were standing close, in case one needed steadying by the other. A word, a touch here and there, on the arm, on the shoulder. Fingers brushing as an article was passed from one to the other. Oh, yes, Vila noticed that too and shook his head in despair.
Finally, the attack fleet moved off, getting the message that the Liberator was more than a match for them. "Well, that's that," Blake said, the danger passed. "Zen, are there any other ships within detector range?"
*Negative. All pursuit ships have aborted their attack and are moving away at high speed. Liberator is clear.*
"Good. Then perhaps we can get on with our lives for a little while." So saying, he turned and left the deck without another word. While the others looked perplexed for a moment, they mostly shrugged and went about their duties.
Avon watched him disappear and waited a few minutes before doing the same. "I'm going to my cabin. I trust the rest of you can be counted upon to keep out of trouble for a few hours?"
"Of course, Avon. Anything you say, Avon," Vila muttered as he watched the man go off in search of certain foolishness.
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Avon paced alone in his quarters, attempting to resume his calm, calculating manner, but the memory was far too fresh. He could still feel the lurch of the ship, Blake's body beneath his on the deck as they were thrown together. He shuddered uncontrollably, eyes closed, remembering the warmth of the man's aura bathing him, fascinating him, mesmerizing him. He wanted to experience it again and was unconcerned with the cost.
He became aware of the signal at his door. "Yes?"
"Avon, it's Blake. May I come in?" That cool voice electrified Avon, rooting him to the floor for a moment as a shiver coursed through his body. He remembered Vila's eyes, accusing, warning. But he had his own path to follow, didn't he? Vila might think he was Avon's conscience, but Avon had his own conscience, and it didn't sound remotely like Vila.
"Why not?" He keyed the entry, schooling his expression neutrality. It wouldn't do to betray his inner turmoil.
Blake strode in, a bottle of wine in one hand and two crystal goblets in the other. He closed the door and placed his offering carefully on the table before turning his eyes to Avon. "Please, help yourself." He gestured toward the wine, strangely graceful for so big a man.
The tech popped the wine cork with practiced ease, taking a tentative sniff and nodding his approval, before he poured them each a glass. He turned questioning eyes to Blake, ignoring the quiver in his stomach. "What shall we drink to, then?"
Blake stared deeply into Avon's brown eyes. What was he thinking, he wondered? Would his overtures be rebuffed or would he gain the foothold he needed, something to bind Avon to him, to his cause. He tilted his head, proposing, "How about...cooperation?"
"Of course," Avon agreed, perhaps a shade too quickly. He took a healthy swallow. "Trying to get me drunk, Blake?"
"On this?" He raised his goblet, admiring the sparkle of bubbles rising to the surface. "It's far too valuable to waste. Besides, we'd have to consume more than I brought with me." He paused, considering Avon, standing just that much too close, inside his personal space. "Why, do you want me to get you drunk, Avon?"
Avon turned his back to Blake without answering, discomfited and not wanting to show it to this man. He sensed rather than felt the man's presence coming close behind him. A strong hand landed on his shoulder, another at his hip, moving around his waist, coming to rest on his belt buckle. The other hand joined it but moved no further.
Avon leaned back against him, eyes closed, listening to the soft breathing in his ear, the thump-thump of his heart, the rumbling voice whispering, "I want you, Avon."
A moan escaped the tech's lips as he felt Blake's tongue tracing the outline of his earlobe. Now the hands began to unfasten his belt. Avon drew in a quick sharp breath.
"You must know," Blake told him softly, "how very beautiful you are."
"It's been...pointed out…on occasion." Avon gasped as Blake's touch became even more intimate, one hand moving up under the ebony shirt, the other dipping lower to caress the straining erection through Avon's underclothes.
Blake's left hand brushed an already taut nipple, noting the shudder that ran down the length of the man's body. He smiled at the response, his right hand dipping inside the briefs. Then he rocked his hips ever so gently against the other man's backside. "You like that, don't you, Avon?" he purred.
"Oh, yes," the reply was nearly inaudible. "…very much."
"Good…" Blake turned him about and began to remove the dark clothing. He ran his hands appreciatively over each part of the alabaster body as it was exposed to his questing fingers and hungry eyes, noting that Avon was standing very still now, eyes closed, allowing himself to be silently undressed.
His eyes open now, silently amused, the tech stepped out of his trousers, grinning slightly. "I think I'd best remove my own boots, Blake. They can be a bit tricky."
Blake returned the smile. "I've had the same problem on occasion." Keeping his attention on Avon, Blake pulled off his vest and began to unbutton his shirt. tossing the garment over a chair, he removed something from the pocket and handed it to his soon-to-be lover. "I trust you know what to do with that?"
Avon took the tube and nodded, beginning to prepare himself.
Blake watched as Avon covered his own manhood with the lubricant, mouth slightly open. Yes. Soon you will be mine completely. I won't have to pretend. He lay face down on the bed, legs slightly parted. "Now, Avon."
The tech knelt between the rebel leader's thighs, thinking that Blake seemed to be knowledgeable in the ways of same sex joinings. He remembered the incident on the London. Blake had certainly seemed to understand what was happening then.
Leaning forward, he entered the man slowly, gently, increasing the length of his strokes with each movement.
"Yes!" Blake gasped. "More, Avon, all of it, now!"
Avon obeyed, thrusting hard and deep, burying himself in his leader. "Oh gods, Blake, this is incredible!" he breathed.
"Yes," Blake hissed back, "it is." He began to move beneath Avon, arching against him.
In far too little time, both men reached their limits and plunged over in the same instant, each crying out the other's name as ecstasy claimed them.
Avon collapsed on top of Blake, his breathing rapid and labored. Blake rolled over onto his back, holding Avon close at his side and claiming his mouth in a kiss that left them both gasping, their arousal returning almost immediately.
"Your turn," Avon murmured into Blake's ear, then began to kiss his way down the other man's middle, snaking his tongue into Blake's navel, then sliding even further, taking the semi-erect manhood into his more than ready mouth.
Blake inhaled sharply and grasped Avon's head between both hands. "Please…"
"Mmmm," Avon moaned against the shaft, moving agonizingly slower than Blake intended.
"Faster, man!" he urged.
But Avon wouldn't have it. Pulling away, he managed to say, "Oh, no. I intend to take my time with you."
Blake surrendered, flopping back onto the pillows, allowing Avon to work his magic at his own speed. He could not believe his luck. To find someone with this man's talent for computers as well as his more 'hidden' attributes was more than he could have asked for. He allowed himself to simply enjoy the act, drifting, rising, floating, then flaring to climax. Suddenly, he arched and came, almost without warning, filling Avon's mouth with his life's fluid.
Avon drank him in, savoring the taste, eyes closed, still experiencing the rapture he'd given to the man beneath him. How could he have missed this…potential in the charismatic rebel? Perhaps he'd been blinded to it by his own prejudice against those who pursued a 'Cause,' as opposed to those like himself who only pursued wealth. Whatever the reason, he'd found Blake out now. There was no turning back.
"I could get used to this, you know," Blake interrupted Avon's musings. "Quite used to it."
"Yes, you are," chuckled Avon.
"What am I?" Blake asked, puzzled.
"Quite used," the tech replied, laughing quietly, relaxed, satisfied and sliding, in spite of himself, into a deep slumber.
Blake held him as he slept, silently congratulating himself on what he'd just accomplished. Oh, Avon…so are you.
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A/N: Now that Blake has what he wants, what will Vila do?
Reviews would be welcome!