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Impulses
by Lianne Burwell
October 1998
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Colonel Paul Ironhorse dragged himself out of bed, finally conceding 
that he wasn't going to get any sleep that night. It wasn't the ache from 
the bullet wounds that bothered him, he'd experienced a lot worse before. 
Instead, it was like there was an itch in his blood, leaving him restless 
and edgy. He needed to hit something, and he didn't much like the feeling.

It had started when he was outside the military base, earlier that day, 
and had realized that the aliens were in control, Blackwood and 
McCullough trapped inside. During his one-man rampage through the base - 
first with just a knife, later with captured guns - the feeling had been 
handy, but now it left him unable to relax enough to get the rest he 
needed.

Since he wanted to hit something, he might as well indulge himself, he 
decided. The cottage had a well-stocked exercise room, which included two 
punching bags. Maybe if he went down and spent some of this energy one 
one of *them* he would be able to sleep. Paul pulled on some clothes, and 
headed for the door.

The cottage was dark and silent, as he padded down the stairs. His 
training made his passage completely silent, and he was familiar enough 
with his surroundings that he did not need any lights to find his way.

As he headed down the corridor, though, he saw his first signs of life. 
The library doors were shut, but light spilled through the gap below 
them. Curious, he opened the doors to see who else was up so late.

"Harrison?"

* * * * *

Harrison Blackwood dimly heard the sound of the door opening, but the 
voice calling his name caught his attention immediately. He opened one 
eye to see Paul standing at the door.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"What are you doing?"

"Meditating."

Paul rolled his eyes, as if to say 'I can see that'. "Isn't it a little 
*late* for you to be meditating?"

Harrison unfolded himself from his lotus position. The mood had been 
rather thoroughly broken. "I couldn't sleep. I believe that I am still 
feeling the after-effects of exposure to the alien crystal."

"After-effects?"

Standing up, Harrison started a series of stretches, designed to counter 
the stiffness from sitting in one position for - he glanced at the clock 
- more than two hours. "It's a little hard to theorize, when it comes to 
the alien artifacts. The crystal may have been designed as a weapon, 
which we used it as, or for some other purpose entirely. However, 
exposure, for a human, seems to unleash parts of the psyche that the 
person keeps locked up."

Paul looked puzzled, but interested, so Harrison continued. "When I was 
affected by the crystal, I began to act impulsively. I did not consider 
the consequences before acting. When Suzanne was exposed," he felt a 
flash of guilt for having forced that exposure, "she began to act as 
though her inhibitions had been erased."

Paul's expression began to change, a light of understanding growing. "And 
when I was working through the complex. While I have no problem with 
fighting, especially against the aliens, I don't usually feel so much... 
enthusiasm for the violence. Not to mention the fact that I usually plan 
a little better before jumping in."

Harrison's curiosity was immediately peaked. "You mean that the 
crystal's effects reached all the way to the surface? We were still well 
underground when we lost it. It's a pity that Suzanne lost her grip on 
the crystal. It would have been interesting to do some tests to see just 
how far its influence could spread."

"Interesting or not," Paul said, exasperation coloring his voice. "It's 
just as well that it *was* destroyed. It was a little *too* dangerous for 
my tastes. I just want to know how *long* I'm going to feel like this."

"And how *do* you feel?" Harrison asked, finally noticing the man's 
appearance. The Colonel was dressed in a pair of shorts and an 
undershirt, slightly damp with sweat. His eyes glittered in the light 
from the lamp in the corner, and he was continually shifting his weight, 
which was unusual for the usually calm military man.

"Restless. Edgy. The way I do before a battle."

Restless and edgy looked good on the man, Harrison noticed. *Very* good. 
In one corner of his mind he realized that he was about to do something 
that he was going to regret, but the impulse was growing. An impulse that 
he hadn't indulged in years.

"So you can't sleep."

"No. I thought I'd work off the excess energy in the weight room."

"There are other ways of working it off." Harrison started forward, 
ignoring that voice that was telling him that this was a *really* bad 
idea.

"Like what?" Paul asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Like this," Harrison said, pinning the man to the door behind him, and 
lowered his head to take the other man's mouth in a hard kiss.

* * * * *

When Harrison's lips came down on his, Paul's first reaction was outrage. 
His second reaction was that the good doctor could *kiss*. In an instant, 
all the blood rushed to his groin. He pushed Harrison away, and met the 
man's eyes. They glittered with a light that was unusual for the large 
man.

"Harrison..." he said, wondering what the hell was going on, and how long 
it would be before they regretted this. Then the energy that had been 
plaguing him all night flared up again, and he growled, before pulling 
the man back down. This time, he met Harrison's kiss with one just as 
aggressive. Tongues battled for dominance, and while Paul understood, in 
one corner of his mind, that it was the crystal's left-over influence 
making them act this way, he didn't care.

Hands running over the other man's chest and neck, Paul hooked a leg 
behind Harrison's knees, and gave a sharp push to send the both of them 
crashing to the floor. Landing on top of Harrison, Paul felt the air 
woosh out of the other man's lungs. He promptly took advantage of the 
stunned stillness to pull the man's shirt up, and over his head. He 
reached down to repeat the action with the sweatpants, but the body 
beneath him erupted, and he found himself flat on his back, staring up 
into grinning eyes.

Paul found himself sinking into those eyes, and he waited to see what 
Harrison was going to do next. Gentle hands reached to caress his face, 
and neck. Then they reached the neckline of his undershirt, gripped, and 
pulled. Paul gasped as the tough fabric gave way, separating all the way 
down the front. Despite his size, it was very easy to forget just how 
strong Harrison was.

Before he had recovered from that, Paul's shorts were stripped from him, 
and Harrison was on top of him again. Paul realized, suddenly, that they 
were flesh pressing against flesh, and wondered when Harrison had found 
the chance to strip off his sweatpants. Then the other man started to 
move, and he lost interest in that line of thought.

Harrison's erection was pressing down, rubbing against his own, and 
Paul pushed back, looking for more friction, a faster tempo. Harrison 
responded by picking up the pace. Paul threw his head back, eyes squeezed 
tight, and let go of what remained of his self control. When a mouth 
fastened on the side of his throat and sucked *hard*, he howled and 
bucked and splattered them both with his eruption.

When his breathing had slowed, somewhat, he found Harrison still moving 
against him, still hard.

"Paul?" the man asked in a husky growl, hips twisting against Paul's 
sensitive groin. He understood the unasked request.

"Harrison. Shut up and fuck me already."

Paul closed his eyes, and spread his legs. The mouth was back on his 
neck, sucking hard. A slick finger - coated with his own fluids, he 
realized - slipped between his legs and into him. One was followed by two 
was followed by something larger, and hotter, and much more satisfying. 
Paul groaned, and wrapped his legs around the other man's waist, as 
Harrison pushed his way in, slowly and carefully.

When he was fully embedded, Harrison stopped, and held still. Paul 
groaned, and realized that he definitely wanted more. He was hard again, 
faster than he could usually manage in bed. He rolled his hips, 
encouraging Harrison to start moving. The response was a series of 
thrusts that encouraged him to let go.

He did. He ignored Harrison, concentrating instead on his ass and 
erection, climbing towards that peak, once more. When he went over the 
top, he was only peripherally aware of Harrison following him.

Then he wasn't aware at all.

* * * * *

"Harrison. Harrison!"

Harrison groaned, fighting the need to wake up, but the voice calling his 
name was insistent. He opened his eyes to find himself nose to nose with 
Paul. The Colonel was lying underneath him, and his face was turning red. 
Harrison rolled to the side, and felt himself slip free.

"About time. You're damn heavy, Harrison," the smaller man gasped.

"Sorry," he replied automatically. Then he realized what had just 
happened, and groaned. "Oh, no. Colonel, I *am* sorry. I can't explain 
what came over me. You would be well within your rights to press 
charges..."

The next thing he knew, Paul was on top of his chest, kissing him into 
silence. When he pulled away, Harrison was surprised to find himself hard 
again, and from the feeling of Paul's groin pressing down into his, the 
other man's flesh was also interested again.

"Don't start making noises about it being rape, doctor. You may be larger 
than me, and maybe stronger than me as well, but I know a lot more dirty 
tricks. If I didn't want it, I would have stopped you. I didn't. I wanted 
you to do it, and I certainly hope you'll do it again. Soon. And often."

The man started rocking his hips again, and Harrison found himself 
grinning. He reached up to grip the narrow hips. "I think that could be 
arranged," he said, and began thrusting up against the other man.

This could be the beginning of an even *more* beautiful friendship.

THE END