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Keep Your Eyes On The Screen
by Lianne Burwell
July 1998
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Harrison Blackwood stared at the computer screen, hardly even seeing it. 
In away, the scrolling text was soothing. Hypnotic. Relaxing.

He jerked awake at the sound of a door slamming.

"Where is everyone?" asked Ironhorse as he came into the lab. The Colonel 
was just returning from a trip to Washington, to meet with General Wilson 
about their progress - or lack thereof - against the aliens.

"Sleeping," Harrison replied, wishing that he was also. "But we need the 
results of this trace as soon as it's finished. Norton's been up for 
nearly sixty hours, straight, so I told him to go to bed, I'd monitor it 
for him."

"And Suzanne?"

"Off visiting relatives with Debi, remember? She's been planning this 
trip for months. They'll be back tomorrow"

"Oh. Right."

Harrison checked the computer screen, and quickly found himself being 
pulled into the ever-changing display. Without realizing it, his eyelids 
started to droop. Then a hand slapped down on his shoulder, and he almost 
jumped out of his seat.

"A little jumpy, are we, doctor?"

"Just... tired. I don't suppose you'd care to take over the monitoring?"

"No... But maybe I can help keep you awake."

Harrison started to ask how, but a second hand landed on his other 
shoulder and started massaging the stiff muscles of his neck. He groaned, 
and leaned back into the touch, his eyes starting to close again. A sharp 
nip to the earlobe brought them open again.

"Ah, ah, ah," chuckled the dark voice at his ear. "Keep your eyes on the 
screen, Harrison."

Harrison blinked, and managed to focus on the computer monitor, but the 
hands on his shoulders were very distracting. Then they started to 
descend, firmly caressing his chest through his shirt. The heels of the 
palms rubbed hard against his nipples, then clever fingers grabbed and 
pinched, making him gasp, and his cock started to harden.

Suddenly he was very awake. He wanted to turn his chair and pull Paul 
down onto his lap and kiss him senseless, but the teasing voice behind 
him kept reminding him to keep his eyes on the screen.

He groaned as the hands slipped lower, rubbing at his stomach, and 
finally his groin. Even through the layers of his jeans and his 
underwear, the feeling was maddening.

"Paul... Please..."

Again came that velvet chuckle, and lips fastened on his neck, right 
below his right ear, and his head fell back as the mouth sucked. Between 
the hands and the mouth, he was having to fight to keep any portion of 
his mind on the screen he was supposed to be monitoring. The information 
kept scrolling. The trace was still running.

Just as he was sure that he was going to make a very embarrassing mess of 
his underpants, the hands let go. He couldn't stifle the cry of protest. 
Then he heard the sound of a zipper being undone, and fabric hitting the 
floor. He started to turn to see what Paul was up to, but a tap to the 
back of the head stopped him.

"You're supposed to be keeping your eyes on the screen."

So, he kept his eyes on the screen, trying to keep his hands away from 
his own crotch. Somehow, he had the feeling that Paul wasn't going to let 
him take care of himself.

Then, finally, Colonel Paul Ironhorse moved into view. From the waist up, 
he was still in his field uniform, right down to that beret that looked 
like it had been tailor-made to look good on him, and only him. From the 
waist down? Naked as a jay.

"Paul..."

"Shh," Ironhorse said, moving Harrison's chair so that he was sitting at 
an angle to the computer screen. "Just keep your eyes on the screen. Just 
ignore what I'm doing."

Ignore him? Not in *this* lifetime. Not when he was crouched in front of 
Harrison. Not when he was opening up Harrison's pants and pushing down 
his briefs low enough to pull out the achingly hard cock inside. Not when 
he was inhaling that cock.

Harrison groaned loudly as that talented mouth worked him. Paul attacked 
a cock the same way that he attacked everything else in life: single-
mindedly and with great competence. Harrison could feel his orgasm 
building when the mouth disappeared, and fingers tugged on his balls to 
prevent them from drawing up.

"Are you keeping your eyes on the screen?" Ironhorse asked, the amusement 
in his voice tempered only by the breathless quality.

"Yes! Damnit, Paul. Please..." Harrison shifted in his seat, trying to 
get the contact back.

Ironhorse stood, and placed his hands on Harrison's shoulders. 
"Convenient, isn't it, that this chair doesn't have arms."

Harrison was about to ask him what he meant when Paul stepped forward, 
straddling his lap, and slowly sat down. Harrison groaned as his cock was 
engulfed, eased only by the generous amount of spit that Paul had bathed 
it with. He reached out to grip the other man's hips.

"Are you... watching the... screen?" Ironhorse panted.

"Fuck the screen," was the growled reply. Ironhorse laughed.

"No. Fuck *me*. But watch the screen."

Harrison wasn't really thinking, by this point, but he managed to shift 
his eyes to the computer screen, just as Paul's ass met his lap. The 
trace was still running. Then he lost it, again, as Paul lifted up, then 
dropped back down. He whimpered at the force of the impact.

Then he noticed the erect cock, peeking out from under the Colonel's 
uniform shirt. He reached to grasp it, and was rewarded by a moan, and 
the sight of Paul throwing his head back, exposing his beautiful neck. 
Harrison couldn't resist. He leaned forward to start nibbling at that 
gorgeous bit of flesh. Not that the rest of it was any *less* gorgeous.

"yesssss... right there..."

Harrison tightened his grip, and nibbled more. He was lifting up out of 
the chair to meet Paul's down-thrusts. By the sound of it, Paul was 
close. *He* was almost there to. Just a little more...

The computer beeped, signaling the end of the trace, and he lost it. He 
pumped upwards, helpless to stop, and he felt several wet splats against 
his shirt front as Paul joined him in orgasm. Paul was slumped against 
him, breathless, as Harrison reached for the phone.

"Norton? It's finished," he managed to say when the other man picked up 
his phone.

"On my way, Harrison. Are you all right? You sound... out of breath."

"I'm fine. Just... fine."

"If you say so. See you in a minute, then. Then you can go get some 
sleep."

"Sleep... sounds good."

Harrison slumped back in the chair, moaning as nimble fingers tucked 
sensitive flesh back into his pants, and did up the zipper. The colonel 
went to collect his own clothing, not really rushing to get dressed 
before Norton arrived.

"Well done," he told Harrison, giving him a quick kiss. "You kept your 
eyes on the screen."

THE END