"What did you just say?"

Seamus Harper, ship's engineer, or at least the closest
thing to one on board, and self-proclaimed genius stared up
(okay, so on this ship he was the shortest human, since no
one really knew what Trance was) at Tyr Anasazi, ship's
warrior (and huge pain in the ass a lot of the time) in
disbelief.

"I said--"

"Never mind. I heard you the first time."

"Then why did you ask me to repeat myself." Tyr looked
annoyed; a look he did very well.

"Because I can't believe that you seriously asked me to..."
Harper stopped, the words choking in his throat.

"To share my bed."

There were those words again. Harper was almost asked Tyr
to repeat himself, but decided that it wasn't a smart idea
to make him any more annoyed than he already was,
especially considering that the Nietzschean was bigger,
stronger and definitely meaner than he was.

This was definitely not a conversation that he'd ever
expected to have. The Andromeda Ascendant was on its way to
yet another backwater planet that its captain, Dylan Hunt,
hoped to convince to join the Commonwealth of Planets he
was trying to reform. And surprisingly enough, they'd gone
a whole week now without any attacks or other...
interesting events. Just enough time for people to start to
develop cabin fever; not something you would expect from
seven people on a ship designed to hold hundreds.

Harper shook his head again, more in disbelief than denial.
"What happened, the others all turn you down?"

Tyr made a small sound suspiciously like a snort. "No. I
didn't ask them."

Harper felt a burst of pleasure at the implicit flattery,
but squished it down. What would have been flattery from
anyone else wasn't necessarily that from a Nietzschean.
"Why not? I mean, I would have thought Bekka was more your
type." Then again, Tyr had recently lost a Nietzschean
girlfriend, but...

"No."

"Why not?"

"I am not looking to father a child."

Harper blinked. "I doubt she's looking to have one. What
does that have to do with anything?"

"Sex with a female is for procreation, at her invitation.
Sex with a male is for recreation."

That was something that Harper had not known about
Nietzscheans, although, in retrospect, it did make a
strange sort of sense. "Okay, that counts out Bekka, Trance
and Andromeda," he said softly, thinking about it.

"And I will *not* consider a Magog."

"Doesn't surprise me. But wouldn't Dylan be more your type?
I mean, he's big and strong and..."

"Oblivious. And just a little too... idealistic for my
tastes. Casual, recreational sex is probably not a concept
he is familiar with."

True. However, "What do you mean oblivious?"

Tyr leaned back against a wall, the picture of composure.
"His first officer was Nietzschean. I found his personal
log files. His password was not difficult to figure out."

"Huh? Isn't the idea of a password to keep other people
from reading the files?" Harper's interest was peaked at
that.

Tyr gave him a look that said he should already know the
answer. "He only wanted to keep outsiders from reading
them, not one of his own people. He had suggested a liaison
with his Captain."

"And Dylan said no because he was already in love with
Sarah," Harper finished for him, a bright smile.

"No. He never even noticed the suggestion. After several
tries, Gaheris gave up. I'd heard that there were humans
who were uninterested in same-sex relations, but I had not
realized how oblivious they could be."

"I've never really understood that one myself," Harper
muttered to himself. "So basically, after a process of
elimination, I was the only one left. I'm surprised you
didn't just decide on celibacy," he added wryly.

"Why is that?"

"Well, I'm not exactly--" Not exactly up to Nietzschean
ideals, he didn't say. Harper knew he was one hell of a
catch as humans went (and modest to boot), but Nietzscheans
didn't think the same way. Of course, this whole
conversation was expanding his knowledge about Nietzscheans
in ways he'd never expected.

Tyr was still waiting with an expression on his face that
was verging on a smirk; not an expression he'd ever seen on
the man. Usually, Tyr went for either impassive or angry.
And there was something more, a light in his eyes as he
watched Harper...

Harper's eyes narrowed. "And if you're just looking for
someone to shut up, roll over and spread his legs, you
*better* go for the celibate option," he said a little
heatedly. He wasn't interested in the romance of a lifetime
anytime soon, but he did have his pride, and it didn't go
along with being someone's fuck-toy.

That got a laugh from the bigger man. "You don't strike me
as the type to just 'roll over and spread his legs,'" Tyr
said. "And I don't think you ever 'shut up.' Besides, if
the pleasure is not shared, then what is the point? And if
it reassures you at all, you are definitely not my last
choice."

"No, the Rev is," Harper muttered.

"You know, you are too hard on yourself. You are not
Nietzschean, so why should I measure you by those
standards? And if you lack the physical strength of my
kind, you more than make up for it with an agile mind and
quick reflexes. Believe me, after trying to do your job
once, I have no interest in doing it again. Making repairs
in the middle of a battle is not my forte."

"Still, why not celibacy? I mean, don't tell me you were
sleeping with any of that lot you were with before."

This time there was no mistaking the disgust on the man's
face. "With that sort of choice, I would abstain. Sleeping
with one of them would have been a blot on my honor, even
such as it was."

But he wasn't. Harper straightened up, feeling more than a
little flattered. Tyr had standards and he met them,
obviously. Still, he wasn't sure about this.

On the other hand, Tyr *was* big, buff and mouth-watering
gorgeous, so why the hell not? Besides, his own choices
were just as limited. Bekka wasn't exactly the type he went
for (although he could see her with Dylan easily), and she
would have said no anyway. Trance was too much the little
sister, Andromeda was quite clear on *her* feelings. As for
the Rev, while he wasn't quite as prejudiced against the
Magog -- wait a sec, actually he was, although the Rev
wasn't bad as an individual -- he certainly wouldn't sleep
with one either. And since Dylan, according to Tyr, seemed
to have a blind spot... Well, celibacy wasn't exactly his
first choice either.

"So how does this sort of thing work for Nietzscheans?"

The corner of Tyr's mouth quirked upwards. "Generally with
an invitation. If it is accepted, you go to bed."

"Get sweaty and then go your separate ways?"

"If that is what you prefer. Personally, I prefer not
sleeping alone, but if you don't want to..."

"No, sleeping is good." Actually, cuddling was a lot of fun
too, but he didn't really think Tyr was the cuddling type.
"So," he said brightly. "Your place or mine?"

>>>~~~<<<

In the end, it was Tyr's place. Harper appreciated the
tact. While going to his quarters would have put him on his
own turf, going to Tyr's meant that he could decide when he
wanted to leave. Kicking a Nietzschean out if he didn't
want to go was a little more problematic.

The quarters were sparsely decorated, almost Spartan.
Harper looked around, wondering if that was how Tyr had
remodeled it, or if the previous occupant had been a monk.
Hell, for all he knew, they'd belonged to Dylan's
Nietzschean first officer. After all, they'd all taken
rooms on the executive staff's residential deck, since it
was the one closest to the bridge.

Most of the other residential decks still stood silent and
dark, since there was no real point in wasting energy where
there was no one to need it. Eventually, they would have to
go through them to check for any items that could be traded
for supplies they needed, but the idea kind of creeped
Harper out. After all, everyone who had lived down there
was long dead and gone, and some of them had even died
there. At least there were no bodies left or anything like
that. One of the first things Andromeda had done was...
clean up. Harper still had the occasional nightmare about
the sight of all those funeral pods being fired into the
black hole that had held the ship trapped for three hundred
years.

"If you've changed your mind--"

"Nah, just lost in thought," Harper said, turning around.
His jaw dropped. He must have been *really* lost in thought
to have missed Tyr getting undressed. Weirdly enough, Tyr
was no less imposing (or intimidating) completely naked
than he was when fully dressed in leather and chain mail.

He was also one hell of a big boy where it counted. His
cock was even darker than the rest of him, almost black in
color. Harper's eyebrows went up as it twitched and seemed
to levitate a little higher until it was standing almost
vertically, pressed against Tyr's stomach. Oh, boy. That,
combined with the merest evidence of the forearm spikes Tyr
kept sheathed most of the time, was almost enough to make
him rethink this whole idea.

Then again, he was pretty damned tired of looking for a
pickup during those brief periods he was off the ship. A
regular source of nookie was a good idea.

"This works better if you remove your clothing too," Tyr
pointed out with a nod.

"What? Oh." Harper pulled off his usual Hawaiian shirt and
started to pull his undershirt up, then paused. While he
had nothing to be ashamed of, he wasn't exactly what you
could call muscular, at least, not compared to Mr. Carved-
From-Brown-Marble over there. On the other hand, acting
like a nervous virgin at this point was pretty stupid. He
pulled the undershirt over his head and tossed it away,
then started undoing his pants.

There wasn't anyplace handy to put his clothes once they
were off -- and he'd missed seeing where Tyr had stored his
-- so he just kicked them over into a corner, then turned
back to the larger man, waiting for a reaction.

Tyr looked him up and down a few times. He had to fight to
keep from fidgeting as he waited for the verdict. Not that
he really cared what the man thought of him. Mostly. Still,
if they were going to be doing the horizontal mambo, a
certain amount of appreciation would help. "Nice," was the
only comment.

"Nice?" Harper was slightly insulted. "Is that it?"

Tyr smirked, ever so slightly. "Very nice?"

Before Harper could come up with a snappy comeback, Tyr
moved to stand directly in front of him, so close that they
were almost touching. His own cock went twitch at the heat
radiating from the other man.

Tyr ran a finger from Harper's collarbone, down his chest,
then back up his cock. "Very nice indeed."

Okay, that looked like a check on the appreciation column.
Good thing too, since he'd feel pretty stupid if he had to
get dressed again and leave at this point, since all the
build-up so far had left him with one hell of a woody.
Little Seamus would be really pissed off at him if he
didn't get any follow-through on the promises of the last
half-hour. "So what's your pleasure?" he asked in what he
thought was an amazingly composed voice.

Tyr said nothing. Instead, he moved forward, pushing Harper
backwards. Something hit the back of Harper's calves and he
fell back onto the bed that was the only real piece
furniture in the room. He scooted back until he was fully
on the bed, then propped himself up on his elbow to watch
Tyr crawl up the bed after him, coming to a stop at his
feet. There, he stopped, just watching Harper.

"Well?" he asked when the larger man didn't make a move.

The response was a small, predatory smile. Then Tyr lowered
his head, and Harper's breath caught as the man's
dreadlocks brushed against his stomach a moment before a
warm, moist heat sucked his cock deep. He groaned and fell
back on the bed as Tyr demonstrated that fighting wasn't
the only thing he did incredible well.

Harper was quickly going into overload. It had been more
than a month since his cock had had an encounter with
anything but his own right hand. Beyond little things like
caring about his partner, he grabbed a double handful of
Tyr's hair and thrust up in a few short hip motions before
exploding rather messily.

Once he'd reassembled the various pieces of his body (okay,
only figuratively speaking) he realized that he'd left the
other man way behind. "Sorry about that," he said a little
sheepishly, although he felt too damned good to really be
sorry.

Tyr just stretched out next to him, licking a little drop
of Harper's cream from his lips, looking like nothing more
than an oversized cat. Well, a cat with one hell of an
erection. "I'm sure you can make it up to me," he said in a
smug tone.

Harper reached for the man's cock and found that he could
barely wrap his hand around it. "I don't know what you were
planning to do with that," he said, glancing up at Tyr
through narrowed eyes. "But that thing doesn't get anywhere
near my ass without one hell of a lot of prep work. Got
that?"

"So do something else with it, then," Tyr said in a tight
voice.

He didn't sound like he was up to the time necessary for
that prep work, so Harper decided to return the favor that
had been done for him. Holding the base of Tyr's 'tower of
power' firmly in one hand and using his other hand to
handle the equally impressive balls hanging beneath it, he
bent his head and gave the cock one long lick, checking the
flavor.

He wasn't sure exactly what he was expecting, but Tyr
tasted pretty much like every other man he'd done this with
(Don't ask how many, thank you very much). Plus, the organ
looked perfectly normal, emphasis on the 'perfect', without
any funky additions like the forearm spikes. Reassured, he
went to work on the head, using every trick he knew.

They say that power is an aphrodisiac, and they were right.
Having a big, powerful Nietzschean writhing and moaning
because of what *he* was doing was definitely a turn-on.
Plus, he had a build-up of sexual energy that he was just
itching to unleash. Whatever the reason, he found his own
body reacting a hell of a lot faster than it should have.

When he paused for breath -- and to adjust himself, since
lying on a rapidly growing erection was *not* exactly a
good idea -- Tyr pulled away long enough to rummage around
in a drawer that popped out of the wall next to the bed.
When he turned back, he had a small jar in his hand that
Harper recognized immediately. Not by brand or anything,
mind you, just what function the contents were intended
for.

"Um, didn't I say--"

The jar was thrust into his hand, silencing him. "Use it."
The comment was more order than request. Then Tyr turned
around and settled himself on hands and knees.

Harper looked from the jar to the galaxy-class ass
presented to him then back again. This was not something
he'd expected. After all, Tyr was... Tyr. Somehow, he would
have thought that in the man's vocabulary, 'bottom' meant
'the other guy.'

On the other hand, he'd have to be really stupid to turn
him down, and Mrs. Harper didn't raise no stupid boys. Or
girls, but that was a different story.

Harper opened the jar, then met Tyr's eyes with a question
in his own. The other man was looking over his shoulder
with an impatient expression and he almost expected the man
to waggle his rear end in a 'get on with it' gesture. Not
that he would. That would be far too undignified for a
warrior.

Still, it wouldn't do to keep him waiting. A generous
amount of slippery goop was applied where it was supposed
to go, although Harper kept thinking he should be building
altars to that ass, not shoving his fingers inside it. Then
he applied some more to himself and moved into position.

Still, he hesitated. "Are you sure about this? I mean, you
aren't going to kill me or something to keep me from
telling anyone I did this, are you?"

"If I kill you, then you wouldn't be able to do it again.
Nor would I be able to do it to you. And yes, there would
be that 'prep work' you insisted on. But first, would you
shut up and fuck me!"

Harper jumped at the bellow, then shrugged. That was one
order he was *not* going to disobey. He wiped the excess
lubricant onto the bedspread, then grabbed those hard-as-
rock ass cheeks, spread them wide and pushed forward.

He felt like his brain was going to short-circuit. Tyr may
have done this before, but it wasn't recently. Hell, *he'd*
probably done it more recently than the other man. Or maybe
Tyr just did lots of exercises. Or maybe he was just
naturally a tight-ass, although that might better describe
Hunt. Thankfully, he Tyr relaxed almost immediately, which
left him revising his assumptions again. Still, Harper was
glad he'd already shot his first volley, since if he
hadn't, he would have blown it the second he got inside
this incredible ass.

But he had come once, so he would hopefully have a little
more staying power. After all, if he made this good for
Tyr, he would get to do this again. He hoped. He certainly
wanted to do it again. And again. And... Well, you got the
idea.

And they made a pretty good team too. He thrust forward,
Tyr pushed back. No fumbling around for the right rhythm;
it came effortlessly. When he reached around to play with
Tyr's dick, he found that the man already had that end of
things well in hand, so he went with the balls instead. He
tugged and squeezed them a little harder than he would have
liked himself, but the quiet grunts and almost-moans Tyr
was making seemed to indicate that the other man liked what
he was doing.

"Harder."

Okay, harder was do-able. Harper picked up the pace a bit,
and tried to concentrate on his aim, so to speak. A full-
body twitch from the other man was the only thing to tell
him that he'd succeeded. Still, you took what you can get,
and he made sure that he kept the angle.

Only thing was, Tyr was now throwing in a few twists of his
own. Every time Harper pulled back, Tyr clenched around
him, making him bite his lower lip. Somehow -- but not
really surprisingly -- it had become a contest to see who
could make the other come first. Harper knocked Tyr's hand
out of the way and started pumping the man's dick for all
he was worth, using a strong, heavy stroke, since the man
seemed to like rough.

He was concentrating so hard on Tyr that he was surprised
when his own orgasm blew through him like... well, like a
nova bomb if you wanted to go for clichés. He fell across
the other man's broad, sweaty back, somehow managing to
keep pumping the man's dick until he felt a series of
shudders go through his breathing mattress and his hand
filled with a viscous fluid.

Harper stayed where he was, panting softly against the back
of Tyr's neck. Actually, it was kind of nice. He might
decide to stay there permanently.

Unfortunately, Tyr had other ideas. He shifted slightly and
Harper found himself rolling off the man's back, moaning as
the cool air hit his dick, cruelly pulled from it's warm
home. He grunted a protest, then sat up. Of course, that
was a difficult move in and of itself, since every bone in
his body had turned to mush.

Tyr vanished into the 'fresher, leaving Harper to wonder if
that was his cue to vanish. Sure, the man had indicated
that sex together implied sleeping together, at least after
sex, but...

Harper resisted the urge to smack himself. He didn't
usually suffer from performance anxiety, and certainly not
after the performance. So unless he was told otherwise, he
was staying right where he was.

After a moment, Tyr reappeared and tossed a warm, damp
cloth to Harper. He used it to clean himself, then looked
around Tyr didn't seem to car what he did with it, so he
threw it across the room, through the door into the
'fresher.

He didn't really want to move, but when Tyr started to pull
back the bed covers, he didn't have much choice since he
was sitting on top of them. Tyr slipped under the covers,
still naked, then pulled Harper down next to him.

With the warm covers pulled down over him and an even
warmer body spooned up behind him, Harper couldn't remember
having been more relaxed in recent months. Even the
pressure of the other man's soft cock against his backside
was almost comforting.

As he dropped off to sleep, completely satiated, his last
thought was that Tyr was right: this was *definitely*
better than sleeping alone.

THE END