Omega 3: Uberworld

by Becca Abbott

Disclaimer: Tribune owns Andromeda. No copyright infringement intended.

M/m, m/f,

consensual B&D.

In the end, Tyr's job on Dylan's door was so thorough that Romy had send several bots to the site and cut the damn thing down. Everyone was assembled anxiously outside, armed -- again -- when Dylan stepped through the smoking hole and met their anxious regard.

The knitter had done what it could with the various hurts that remained from Tyr's savagery. Conscious of the silent, half-naked Nietzschean at his back, Dylan addressed his troops.

"Let's put the force lances away." He calmly twitched Trance's away from his chest. "Beka, I'd appreciate it if you didn't leave the bridge while you're on duty, thank you."

She opened her mouth, no doubt poised to remind him that he, himself, had done just that. A quick slide of her eyes to Tyr and she nodded.

"Sorry, Dylan."

He grinned then. "Keep a judicious distance from those mines," he said. "Trance, I need you in medical."

There were more questions from the enigmatic, purple alien in the infirmary. Dylan did what he could to deflect them, but he had an uneasy feeling that Trance understood far more than his few terse, half-explanations provided. He spent some time under the numbing warmth of the machines, their power significantly greater than the little hand-held knitter found in every first-aid kit.

"You're going down there, aren't you? Can I come, too?" Trance asked as he put his clothes back on, stretching experimentally and finding, to his relief, that no pain accompanied the movement.

"Not this time. I need you up here with Rev and Beka."

He smiled apologetically into her disappointment. She regarded him soberly. "I hope you know what you're doing," she said finally.

"So do I, Trance," he replied soberly. "So do I."

Exhausted both in mind and body, Dylan returned to his quarters, stepping over the drones that were busily replacing his door. In his bedroom, he stared at the mess that was his bed, then returned to the study and collapsed on the couch under the window. He slept heavily and dreamed about Tyr.

Six hours later, feeling considerably better, he assembled them all the command deck.

"We're going down to have a look," he told them. "Tyr, Harper, you'll be coming with me, and Romy, have one of your avatars meet us. We'll take a lander. Rev Bem? Any life signs down there?"

"Lots," the Magog confirmed, "but no sentience."

"And the surrounding system?" Dylan turned his attention to the helm.

Beka shook her head. "Nothing. Can we go down, too?"

"We'll see."

"Dylan, I've been reading the first officer's manual..."

One eyebrow drifted up.

"The captain is supposed to remain on board while the first officer commands a landing team on unknown worlds."

"And the first officer is always in uniform while on the command deck and addresses the captain as sir. And reports for duty *on time*."

Beka's mouth opened and closed. Then her mouth quirked and she nodded in acknowledgment of the hit.

"Um -- not to impose any *reality* on the situation," Harper pointed out, "but there's an irinium shield around this planet and I don't think even the lander can get through it."

"Have some faith, " grinned Dylan. "If everything pans out down there, I'll authorize a little shore leave. Tyr? Harper?"

The big Nietzschean, who had been standing apart from the others, arms folded over his broad chest, pushed away from the wall. "Yes, sir."

Conscious of open mouths all around, Dylan said, "Get down to the hanger deck and prep one of the landers. Romy put in camping gear. We'll stay the night -- longer if everything goes well. I'd like to do a little research. After all, it's not often you get to set foot on a legend."

"Speak for yourself, Dylan," Rev Bem grinned, waving his claws to encompass the Andromeda's command deck. "We're getting used to it."

"Yes, captain!" The hologram vanished, delighted.

On his way to the hanger deck, Dylan made a detour to his apartment. The carnage in his bedroom might never have occurred, so neat and pristine was his bed now. On the dresser nearby were the Nietzschean nipple rings. Dylan stared at them a moment, then scooped them up and dropped them into his pocket.

Their lander was primed and ready. It could have been yesterday that it had flown, not three hundred plus years ago. Dylan settled into the pilot's seat. Tyr was already in the co-pilot's place. Harper, sitting beside a tranquil Romy, gave Dylan a rather anxious look as the captain powered up the craft. Within minutes, they streaked out the bay doors and headed toward the glittering, deadly net that protected Uberworld.

Almost immediately, the sensors red-lined. Tyr muttered something, but Dylan just leaned forward.

"Captain Dylan Hunt," he announced. "Three-oh-strike-strike-alpha-zed. Authorize shut-down on access point nine-five-nine."

Harper gasped as, directly beneath them, a hole opened in the shield.

"Holy shit," he whispered. In the mirror, Dylan saw the boy staring at him, wide-eyed, awed.

They dropped through the hole. The lander bucked a little as it entered the exosphere. From the corner of his eye, Dylan saw Tyr watching the steady flow of sensor data as the outer hull began to heat.

"The air is very rich," the Nietzschean observed with satisfaction. "High levels of oxygen."

"Reassuring," Dylan said. There was turbulence as they hit a jet stream, hurtling through it. A moment later, they were flying through dense cloud and the turbulence got worse.

"Thunderstorm," the High Guard commander noted.

In spite of the rough ride, Harper's eyes shone. "A thunderstorm? Like on Earth?"

Dylan took them east, out of the storm and into brilliant sunlight. They were low enough now to make out the general details of the terrain below them. A low range of mountains flashed under the ship, a green velvet spine following the slow curve of coastline.

Lower they settled. Tyr found a level place to land. Dylan brought them down gently.

The com beeped.

"What's going on down there?" Beka's voice, a little anxious. "Let's keep the folks at home informed, okay?"

"So far, so good," Dylan replied. Then, twisting around in his seat, ""Romy?"

The avatar nodded her understanding and disappeared into the back. Dylan watched the panel, saw the rear access hatch open. A few minutes later, her voice came through the com.

"I think it's safe enough, Dylan. In fact, its very beautiful."

Dylan looked at Tyr. The Nietzschean's dark eyes shone and Dylan was the recipient of a sudden, radiant smile.

They stepped out into an Eden. Dylan, who had spent most of his life in space, was completely taken aback.

Their landing spot was a high meadow, surrounded by mountains. Air, crisp and almost heady filled his lungs. Underfoot was wet grass, the earth resilient and moist. Spring, Rev Bem had hazarded after figuring Uberworld's solar orbit. In the west, Dylan could see the black line of cloud that was their thunderstorm.

The meadow was edged with trees, coniferous giants that climbed the surrounding hills until they became a dark green carpet softening the distant peaks and ridges. As Dylan took it all in, a flock of birds rose from the forest to wheel across the sky.

"This is what Earth used to look like," Harper said finally, voice hushed.

Dylan nodded. "Here's the plan. At the moment, officially, this is a scientific expedition. I want air, water and soil samples. Romy -- you have the quarantine pack?"

The android nodded. She had been unloading their equipment, large back-packs holding various items essential to a few days planet-side.

"All right. We're going to split up. Harper -- you go with Romy. Tyr, you're with me. Harper -- do what Romy says. If there's trouble, let me know at once."

*****

Tyr watched the android and Harper start off north across the meadow. Dylan bent and hoisted a pack. The omega stepped in at once, taking it from him and setting it onto his back. Tyr lifted his own effortlessly.

"Where shall we go?"

"You decide," replied Dylan.

"There," Tyr said, pointing west. It was rougher ground, higher, with abutments of fissured rock appearing here and there among the green.

"Lead on."

Tyr drew in deep breaths of the air, felt it invigorate and sharpen his senses. They walked for a time in silence, drinking it all in.

"What do the Nietzscheans say of this place?" Dylan asked after a while.

Tyr stepped over a fallen log. They had reached the trees.

"That it is the perfect world. A place that will nurture as well as challenge. They say that it is a paradise. Your precious Commonwealth stole it, then murdered the architect, Atilla. I don't care what you have heard or been told, but *that* was the true beginning of the rebellion."

"What would you expect? Your people broke their own treaty by attacking Lomir. Two million Lomirians died."

Beneath the towering conifers, it was dim and green. The ground was soft with many layers of pine needles. Here and there, in the infrequent places where sunlight reached, ferns and other deep-shade foliage flourished. The silence was broken only by sighing as wind raced through the highest boughs.

"Half our world -- our *reservation* -- was desert and the other half was teeming with Nietzscheans. We had to go somewhere! We were dying by the tens of thousands!"

Dylan's jaw was tight. It was clear he believed the Commonwealth's version -- that it was the Nietzscheans refusal to moderate the number of their births that had brought the disaster so quickly upon them. Resentment flared, only to be ruthlessly set aside. Tyr was omega now. For Uberworld, he would do and endure anything.

They walked for a long time, climbing further into the highlands. From time to time, Dylan would stop and talk to Beka or Andromeda. To the west, the sky grew darker. Great arms of cloud streaked ahead of the main storm and the wind picked up.

Along a high ridge, the land gave way, falling steeply into a broad ravine. A stream crashed exuberantly down the cleft, plunging fifty feet over a cliff and into a deep pool. It was surrounded by terraced stone, the rough edges softened by moss. Willows grew tenaciously where the stone retreated. Ferns brushed the crystal clear water.

"Let's go there," Tyr said.

His blood tingled. Each lungful of air he drew, the feel of the breeze on his skin, the scent of the pine...all of it was at once alien and hauntingly familiar.

The two men made their way down the rocky slope. There were vines, and willow saplings rooted deep in the cracks. Sometimes, there was moss underfoot, slick and treacherous. Dylan was breathing heavily by the time they reached the pool.

Shrugging out of his pack, the human let it fall, then slumped onto a mossy rock. He looked up at Tyr.

"Not bad," he said,"but everything here looks Terran."

"It is, with genetic modifications." Tyr took off his own pack and sat down beside his captain. "Even the atmosphere is enhanced."

Dylan's brows came together. "You're right," he said. "I do feel different. Stronger. More -- aware."

"As do I." Tyr looked out at the pool. A fine mist obscured the foot of the waterfall, but everywhere else, it was incredibly clear. The human beside him leaned forward, elbows on knees, shoulders hunched. The blue gaze was distant.

Desire stirred in Tyr. His gaze lingered on the human's lean hips, remembering how it had felt to be inside the man. More heat coiled in his loins when he remembered Dylan inside *him*! He could almost taste that mouth. Then Tyr remembered what else there was about Uberworld's air.

In the spring it was subtly, potently aphrodisiac.

***

"Romy! It's going to rain!" Harper stopped, breathless.

"I had noticed that," replied the ship. "According to close scans of the area, there's a clearing a mile or so straight ahead. The ground's high, there is a leeward bluff -- in our tents we'll be safe and dry."

"Good. This damn forest is starting to give me the creeps. Does it go on forever? I can't even tell which direction we're going anymore."

"You've never been on a primaeval Class M?"

"Hell, no. I never even saw a *tree* until Mars Habitat 9. In the camps, anything organic and not sentient got eaten or burned long ago. How far is this clearing?"

She continued on ahead of him, a tantalizing figure in her tight coveralls, carrying the heavy pack without any sign of discomfort. He was sweating in spite of the stiff breeze. More time in the gym, he promised himself.

They struggled up a steep incline, Harper using the thick-standing trees to pull himself along, and finally reached the clearing. She was right -- it was a sheltered spot. The slope leveled off for a hundred feet before the ground rose steeply again, the curve of the ridge blocking the wind. Fifteen feet or so overhead, the cliff leaned out, forming a roof of sorts.

"There's no sign of recent rockfall." Romy announced, gazing critically at the rock face. "Let's make camp here."

"Camp? It's still an hour 'til sunset. Why not just shelter beneath that overhang?"

"According to my atmospheric data, this is a large storm, moving slowly. We may be here for at *least* hour. By the time it's past, it will be dark."

Harper nodded, quite willing to be convinced, and gratefully shed the heavy pack. Turning, he looked back along their trail and caught his breath.

The land fell away into a flat basin where, a tiny dot against the green, their lander rested. He and Romy had come quite a distance. No wonder he was so tired, and hungry and --- he looked at Romy's graceful figure, the soft swell of her breasts, the way her slender hip curved...

Damn.

The android was talking to Dylan, probably giving him their coordinates. Then she started pulling their gear from her pack. He ran to help her and, together, they raised the roomy little tent and got the rest of their stuff up off the ground and covered by a waterproof tarp. By now, the wind was lashing the trees and even sheltered as they were, gusts pulled at them as they scrambled to stow everything safely. Thunder rumbled across the slopes.

Harper scrambled into the tent, Romy close behind, as the rain started. Inside, it was warm and dry, a small camplight providing dim illumination. There was room for three to sleep comfortably and the floor was slightly padded. God, what a cushy life the High Guard had led! Harper stretched out on his back, folding his arms under his head while the small space filled with the sound of rain on the roof.

"I would like to hear more about life in the refugee camps," Romy said unexpectedly. "My database needs badly to be updated with information about the last three hundred years."

Harper's mouth twisted. "Life in the camps? Wretched, dangerous, very uncomfortable. That's all you need."

"You prefer not to think about it?"

"Righto."

Romy settled onto her side, head propped in her hand, regarding him with that quick, curious and very sentient gaze.

"Did you have parents?"

"I'm human, Romy. A kludge, if you will. Parents are a pre-requisite." He flopped over onto his belly and scowled. "I remember my mother, but I never met my father. Still, she swore I was conceived normally."

"She's dead?"

Harper had a sudden image of their tiny hovel, walls patched with cardboard or stolen sheets of plastic, and of his mother, screaming, while the gangers heaped themselves upon her. He remembered how afraid he was -- not for his mother -- but for himself, knowing he was next. That moment of cowardice always turned his stomach, one of his greatest shames.

"I don't want to talk about this," Harper said flatly, sitting up. He opened a window-panel. "How long did you say this storm is gonna last?"

"An hour and thirty-three minutes, unless there's a change in the upper atmosphere.." She sat up and pulled over a satchel containing her testing equipment. "All right, Harper. No more talk of Earth."

Through the transparent fabric, he watched lightning bleach their surroundings, felt the mountain shake under the thunder's assault. That he remembered well about Earth, how he had sometimes stood out in the garbage-heaped streets while the elements raged around him, not caring for his own safety, only reveling in the enormous power of the storm.

"Have you experienced any unusual sensations or feelings since we've been here?" Romy asked.

"I feel good," he admitted. "I made it all the way up this damn mountain without falling over in exhaustion."

"There's an unusually high level of a substance molecularly similar to some animal pheromones."

"Well, well..." He turned and gave her an exaggerated leer.

She smiled dutifully. "My android body is responding to them in an interesting fashion."

Thunder drowned out her next words, but her actions were plain enough. Calmly, she was opening her coverall, exposing her breasts.

"...very sensitive," she was saying when the thunder faded to a growl. "The intensity of it is distracting."

Harper closed his mouth with a snap and gulped. The sight of those perfect mounds, their rosy tips erect brought his own sexual responses front and center with a vengeance.

"It's probably meant to increase the pleasure of sex," he managed, trying to be as matter of fact as herself.

Romy considered this, rubbing and pinching her own nipples thoughtfully. "It is pleasurable," she agreed.

"There's a claim that if someone else does that for you, it's even better."

She lifted an eyebrow and he flushed, but, to his utter astonishment, she nodded. "I'm aware of the procedure, Seamus..."

Oh, well. It was a nice thought.

"...but under these circumstances, I'm quite willing to test the hypothesis."

*****

Clouds were thickening overhead. There was a distant rumble of thunder. Dylan, climbing around near the waterfall, beckoned.

"We could set up camp there," he shouted, pointing to a broad ledge of rock very near the waterfall. It was sheltered in the leeward side of the ravine.

It was a sensible idea. With an uneasy glance at the sky, Tyr rose at once, seizing both their bags and clambering over the rocks to the ledge, but as Tyr began to take the first tent out, Dylan stopped him.

The wind sent the human's pale hair flying around his head. He was grinning, eyes alight, ignoring the approaching maelstrom.

"There's a cave! Just behind the falls!"

Lightning turned the landscape briefly to silver. The wind raced into the ravine, setting the trees to thrashing wildly. The first few drops of rain spattered down. Tyr followed the direction of Duncan's hand and saw it -- an arched opening just to the left of the falls. Nodding, he swept up their packs again and loped after the commander.

A narrow ledge hugged the cliff for six feet before reaching the opening. It was slippery from the spray. Balance compromised by his burdens, Tyr went slowly and carefully. He was soaked to the skin when he half fell into the cave.

Thunder roared through the ravine, echoing against its steep sides. It was impossible to tell what was rain outside, or waterfall. Still, the noise was much diminished and back from the cave's mouth, it was dry.

"It looks like a corridor over there," Tyr said, pointing his chin to their right. "And it looks too regular to have been formed by nature."

Dylan headed promptly in that direction. The corridor led to a deep, high-ceilinged cave directly behind the falls.

"Let's stay here," Dylan decided. "Nicer view."

Tyr returned the open grin warily. He was still waiting for Dylan to repay him for last night. He remembered the gym and his cock hardened in his wet breeches. Quickly, Tyr turned away rather than have the commander see it.

"I'll get it," he muttered and fled.

Hunt was standing in the mouth of the cave when Tyr returned, looking out into the torrent lit brilliantly with each flash of lightning. Up close it was deafening, made more so by the thunder, but it was exhilarating, as well. The noise and the motion stirred his blood. Perhaps it stirred Dylan's, as well.

Tyr took the gear to the back of the cave. The noise at the front promptly faded to the merest whisper. If he needed confirmation that this was a man-made cavern, that was it. The angle of roof and walls were doubtless planned for just that result. He lay out their bedrolls and set down a lamp between them. He knelt on his and peeled off his shirt, throwing it aside. Then he sat, hugging his knees to his chest, watching Dylan -- a lean, graceful silhouette, stark in the flashes of white light.

The human turned finally and walked to the back of the cavern and Tyr's small lamp. He, too, was wet now, and, for a just a second, the look he bent on Tyr was wild and lost. Then those blue eyes were hidden by long lashes as he bent his head, reached into his pocket. When he took out his hand, the omega rings hung loosely on a long, lean finger.

Tyr's body quickened, the swiftness and intensity of the response taking him by surprise. He uncoiled, rising to his knees. Dylan reached down and ran his hand over the Nietzschean's chest. Tyr's whole body tingled, nipples hardening, aching. Face inches from Dylan's crotch, he saw the human was equally aroused. Leaning forward as Dylan's fingers pinched a nipple, Tyr put his mouth against the bulge. The human groaned, one hand tangling in Tyr's braids.

"Stand up," Dylan ordered hoarsely. "It's time to finish this."

Tyr nodded. He rose and, without being told, removed the remainder of his clothing. He took up a position in front of the human, arms behind him, hands clasped tightly. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes.

Dylan's mouth on the aching nub made him shake, shocks of pleasure leaving him weak-kneed. The human's wet caresses moved over his chest to the soft flesh by his armpit. When those demonic lips returned to his breast, Tyr whimpered.

"Shall I chain you?" came the question in his ear. He shook his head, every muscle steeling against what was to come.

The tip of the open metal ring touched his rigid nipple; his entire body shrank in dead, remembering. He cried out, but somehow kept from moving. Then the ring was through and Hunt's tongue was there, stroking, comforting, turning the pain to intense pleasure. When both rings were in place again, Tyr collapsed to his knees, folding forward, braids sweeping Dylan's feet.

When he could breathe again, he removed his commander's boots and clothing, a process that only added to his own urgent desire. Was the human as affected by the atmosphere as he?

Naked, Dylan sank to the ground and pulled Tyr close, answering that question. Mouth opening over his, the human explored him, a leisurely examination, one hand knotted in his hair, holding his head still, the other moving over Tyr's roughening skin. A finger crooked through one of the rings and Tyr made a sound, muffled by his commander's tongue.

"There is one more marking," Dylan said softly, when he'd had his fill of Tyr's mouth. "Do you know what it is?"

A shudder ran through the younger man. "Yes," he whispered.

Dylan leaned back and pulled his pack across the bedrolls. Inside was the leather satchel with its distinctive design. Heart thumping in apprehension, Tyr watched the commander remove another small box. He tried to remember what was in it.

Lifting the lid, the human removed the heavy metal ring and Tyr remembered. With a hand that shook only slightly, the young Nietzschean reached for it.

Unlike the nipple rings, this was of a very rare metal alloy, heavier than steel. The inside of the ring was rough, unpolished except by the tender flesh of the omegas who had worn it in the past. He brought it to lips, then, taking a deep breath, put it in his mouth.

The metal warmed to his tongue. It had a strange, acidic taste. After several long moments, he removed it. Once past his lips, it snapped open. He handed it back to Dylan, whose fingers closed around it tightly.

In that moment, Tyr knew that he stood on the brink of absolute commitment, that whatever happened between them henceforth, he was Dylan's. It could be death, or it could be mastery of this paradise.

Tyr watched the captain lift the ancient ring to his lips and speak, but by ritual, the words were not meant for Tyr. When Dylan looked up, Tyr, needing no instruction, lay back, bending his legs, gripping his ankles to hold them tight against his buttocks. He let his knees fall open.

Dylan's hand came down to cup Tyr's throbbing genitals; the touch made the Nietzschean moan. With increasingly confidence, the human stroked Tyr's thighs, kneaded his perineum.

"By the omega band, I bind you," said the commander gravely, looking into Tyr's frightened eyes.

Then, gathering up Tyr's testicles, Dylan locked the ring around scrotum and penis, holding them together loosely. The metal set his skin to tingling.

"Constrict." said Dylan, and the metal contracted sharply, making Tyr's body arch, tearing a scream from him

"Release," the human said, and mercifully, the controller did so. Tyr went limp, drenched with sweat, echoes of that agony still making their way through his nervous system.

"Tighten."

This time omega band contracted slowly. Tyr began to tremble, breathing hard. He could feel his pulse against the now-unyielding metal. Pain turned to exquisite, aching need.

"Stop."

Tyr was squirming with the sweet agony of it. Dylan dropped to his knees, straddling the Nietzschean, hands to either side of his head, and, lips brushing Tyr's parted ones, he whispered, "Who are you?"

Without hesitation, Tyr replied, "Yours, my lord. I am yours."

*****

Harper was not a virgin. A boy learns quickly in the refugee camps that his body can be a commodity, an object to be bartered. In the camps, it was not his intelligence that had value, only his skill with tongue and cock. His coupling with women were few, and always a matter of commerce, for they felt much the way he did about their own bodies.

Romy was different. She wanted nothing from him but the pleasure of his touch. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that he was, in fact, having sex with a warship.

He was continuously startled by the beauty of her android avatar. God, he did good work. Mutely, he closed his eyes as she leaned for another kiss, her mouth as gently as any born-woman's. He gently slid his tongue between her lips. Startled she drew back.

"It's all right," he said breathlessly. "It's a part of foreplay. Why don't you access the entertainment library?

"A very good suggestion, Seamus."

There was an odd flicker in Romy's gaze. Then, abruptly, her naked body wrapped around his, and he found himself flat on his back, looking up into a pair of smoldering eyes.

"I have successfully assimilated the information there," she growled, putting her mouth to his ear. Her warm breath sent shivers through him. "And I've viewed the tapes you've most often viewed."

Oh, god! He'd never considered *that*!"

"Well, Romy -- maybe not on our first date -- urk!"

She ripped off his shirt, the fabric going to shreds in her slender fists. Moving swiftly, and with her inhuman strength, she had his hands tied with the leather strap from one of their packs and fastened securely to the tent's sturdy, central pole.

"You seem to prefer 'Lady Aila, Pirate Queen,'" Romy continued, stripping away his shoes and trousers. He sent silent, devout thanks to Trance when Romy peeled off his clean underwear and tossed them aside.

"I -- that's a pretty rough..."

"Silence!" The deadliest warship in the galaxies gave his nipples a little pinch. "It appeals to me, as well."

So Harper abandoned his better self and lay perfectly still, heart pounding, every nerve in his naked body on fire. She straddled him. He could feel her warm, damp sex against his belly, her ass nestled up against the tip of this throbbing cock.

Romy, eyes half closed, the tip of her pink tongue brushing soft lips, ran her hands up his bound arms to wrap around his wrists. She was so beautiful. An angel's face, he thought as shivers of desire raised gooseflesh, but what looked out at him was no angel. He licked dry lips, scarcely able to believe his good fortune.

"I think you shall service me now, boy!"

Harper started. It was the fictitious Lady Aila's voice, just as it sounded on the tapes.

"Yes, ma'am," he stammered, wondering suddenly if Romy understood the difference between fantasy rape and the real thing.

She nodded and rose on her knees, moving forward until her sex was directly over him. Slowly she sank until it was inches from his mouth and nose. Reaching between her legs, she opened herself. He lifted his head then, just as the captured pirate had in the tape, buried his tongue in the wet, velvety flesh. Romy moaned when he found her clit and began to tease it. Unlike the stoic Lady Aila, however, the warship was almost immediately driven into orgasm by the unexpected sensation. She screamed and he was momentarily suffocated.

Romy fell off with a little whimper. "Oh," she said finally. "Sorry."

Harper, who glowed with triumph, said smugly, "don't mention it."

Across the tent, the com sputtered to life. "What the hell's going on down there, Romy!"

"Sorry, Beka. Just a - - a glitch."

"Well, watch it! I spilled coffee all over me!"

Harper was trying very hard not to laugh when Romy turned back around. Abruptly, Lady Aila was back, pinning him under her, insatiable. This time, the avatar seized his aching cock and impaled herself upon it. Harper cried out, lost in storm of sensation that rivaled what crashed and roared above them. Helpless, he heard himself begging her to fuck him harder, writhing desperately as she took her pleasure.

Then, with the sudden, convulsive tightening of that deep, tight hole, he was pushed past the brink, screaming as the pressure in his gut exploded in exquisite relief. He was dimly aware of Romy's answering cry, of nails raking across his chest.

For a time after that he was insensible, knowing little until he felt Romy's lips on his. He trembled and she lifted away. The storm was moving away, too, rumbling.

"God," he said finally. "I don't believe it."

"It was pleasurable," agreed Romy, stroking back his short, blond hair. "I think the tape about the human stranded on the asteroid with the Beltran siren is an interesting one. What do you think?"

"That we're in heaven," sighed Harper, struggling to sit. "I'll heat up the water."

****

Lowering his head, Dylan brushed his lips against Tyr's beard and across the full, parted lips. Dark eyes were closed, lashes sooty against brown skin. Tyr threw back his head and Dylan helped himself to that artlessly offered throat. Shivers ran through the young Nietzschean when Dylan sucked and nibbled there, leaving bruises on the dusky flesh.

Desire coiled, molten in Dylan's gut. A distant part of him recognized that much of his need was induced by Uberworld's atmosphere, but he didn't care. He wanted the man under him, almost shook with the intoxicating knowledge that Tyr was his for the taking, wherever and whenever he desired. Knees pressed tight against the Neitzschean's muscular flanks, he tasted the curve of Tyr's shoulder, then, ass settling on Tyr's swollen sex, let his tongue wrap around a nipple ring.

The young man gasped, losing his grip on his ankles. Dylan caught Tyr's wrists, forcing them back over his head, pressing them against the bedroll. Eyes wide, lashes glistening, the Nietzschean simply stared at him. When Dylan released him, he made no effort to move his hands. His hips shifted sensuously under Dylan's.

"Don't move."

Running a tongue over his puffy lips, Tyr closed his eyes and nodded. v Dylan returned to the nipple ring. Formidable, the Nietzschean healing process had already begun, skin knitting around the metal, nerve ends mending. Dylan curled his tongue around the ring again and lifted it. Tyr hissed. Pulling it into his mouth, Dylan sucked on it gently, letting his tongue caress the taut flesh around it. Soon, his omega was moaning, trembling with the effort of remaining still.

When the dark flesh was gleaming with sweat, the human slid down the length of that magnificent body until he was kneeling between those wide-spread legs. Putting his mouth against Tyr's flat belly, Dylan kissed and tongued his way to Tyr's genitals. The young Nietzschean sobbed aloud.

"Tighten," Dylan whispered against the warmed metal nestled in Tyr's thick, short pubic curls.

The young man's cry was lost in a clap of thunder.

The storm was directly overhead. The waterfall was a strobe of brilliance, its light overwhelming the little, yellow glow of the lamp. It seemed that the entire mountain vibrated, but it was more likely his own disordered senses, Dylan thought distantly. He wanted only to see Tyr left helpless with need, hear the soft, hoarse voice beg him for release.

Lowering his head again, Dylan licked the sensitive flesh stretched tight over the young man's testicles, saw the pulse beating fast in the big vein of Tyr's cock. The Nietzschean's breath was coming in shallow, sobbing gasps.

"Please...Dylan, please...AH!"

"Turn over."

Tyr obeyed at once, needing no instruction to lift his hips. For a second, Dylan did nothing more than stroke the taut flesh, feeling it yield slightly under his gentle pressure.

Then he pulled Tyr open, licking along the exposed crack, lingering around the young man's clenched anus. Slowly, growing steadily drunker on the heady, electrically-charged air, he worked his tongue past the tense muscle. He heard a whimper. Slipping a hand between Tyr's legs, he began to fondle the young Nietzschean's sex. The whimper became a groan.

Dylan drew away. In his pack was a tube of bio-lube. He spread some on his fingers. Inserting two of them into Tyr's asshole, he prodded deep, finding the node, tearing a sob from his omega.

"Yes!" Tyr gasped, "Oh, god!"

The young Nietzschean writhed against him, crying out when Dylan once more took hold of his sex. Beginning a slow pumping up and down that engorged shaft, Dylan continued stretching and pulling.

Whatever control Tyr might have possessed was gone. His hands gripped the bedrolls convulsively, he moved in utter abandon, obeying every command of those invading fingers without hesitation, his submission heightening Dylan's passion.

Unable to wait, Dylan removed his fingers, ignoring the cry of protest, and slicked up his cock. Holding it firmly, he guided it into place. It was Tyr who thrust himself upward to take all of it.

Dylan gasped as the tight sheathe clamped around him, the pressure nearly unbearable. Gripping Tyr's hips, he slammed into his omega again and again, urgency driving him onward with greater speed and strength. Tyr's eager, answering moans goaded Dylan to a sudden, final, violent thrust. Heat and light exploded behind his eyes as the painful pressure in his gut broke. Each spasm of his cock triggered a wave of pleasure that left him shaking.

Finally, body tingling, limbs unsteady, he drew away from Tyr and watched the young Nietzschean collapse, hips still squirming as he rubbed his sex against the bedroll.

"On your back," Dylan rasped.

His omega obeyed, opening his legs, thrusting his hips up in mute, helpless supplication. Dylan struggled to regain his breath, heartbeat easing. He put his mouth around Tyr's cock and began slowly to suck.

It was torment of the sweetest kind, to be stimulated to the point of release, but never rewarded. The omega band made sure of it.

"Please...please.." Tears leaked from under Tyr's dark lashes.

Tongue traveling around the shaft, caressing the purple head, Dylan released him long enough to whisper, "Loosen."

The band expanded at once and Dylan reclaimed the heavy, quivering sex. He drew hard on it and was rewarded by a long, shuddering cry and a sudden, hot flood of salty liquid in his mouth. Tyr's supple body bent like a bow, knuckles almost white as the long, strong fingers clenched the bedroll. Dylan held on until the tremors stopped and Tyr was a boneless sprawl on the damp bedding. Rising to hands and knees, Dylan moved up and kissed the young man. Soft lips parted willingly. Strong arms came up to circle him and pull him down. He lay on Tyr, feeling the other's easing heartbeat, warm in the powerful arms. Lifting his head, Dylan ran his tongue over Tyr's wet lips.

"Mine," he whispered triumphantly. "I shouldn't like the idea so much, but I do. This century is beginning to look better all the time."

Tyr let his hands run familiarly down his lord's lean, muscular flanks. Dylan felt the young Nietzschean's hips stir under his.

"Then use me again, lord." Tyr's smile was slumbrous, eyes heavy-lidded. He gripped Dylan's ass suddenly, holding him close.

Dylan could feel the edge of the omega band against his own hardening cock. He shivered. "Damn," he whispered before claiming Tyr's mouth again, "It *has* to be the air."

******

The storm had passed. Naked, Tyr emerged from the cave, traversing the narrow ledge to the moss-covered stone terraces and up the side of the ravine.

It was chilly. Underfoot, the dew tickled Tyr's toes and soaked him to the ankles. His body still held the blissful languor of sexual satiation. He had been well used last night. If this was to be his lot, Tyr had no complaints.

To the east, the sky was opaline, pale fingers of light reaching through the surrounding peaks to stretch across the valley. He could imagine a village there, fields bright with the new green of seedlings, the song of the woodlands rising to greet the coming day. The elders would meet here, in the cave where he had surrendered his will to a human.

Drawing a deep breath, he watched as the sun peeped between the mountains. He scrambled up the last few feet to the top of the ridge. From here, he could see the valley curve away to the north. Unbidden came memories of last night, of lying with his commander, pleasuring him, receiving pleasure in return. Tyr touched the metal at his breasts, then the omega band, snug around his now-flaccid genitals.

Owned.

He swallowed hard. The future suddenly yawned before him, uncertain, filled with danger. What status would Dylan allow him among a crew of free beings? Would he be asked to serve them, as well? Could he submit to treatment that, as an alpha, he would never tolerate? Looking around at the lush, verdant landscape, feeling the kiss of the cold, pure breeze he knew that he could.

And what if Dylan betrays you? sneered the cold, Nietzschean voice. It was Commonwealth treachery, after all, that had sealed this paradise away for centuries.

Tyr shook his head, braids dancing over broad shoulders. He turned and started up the steep slope toward a bluff higher still. Further upslope, the breeze stiffened, its chill biting deep into him. Birdsong filled the trees, fading around him, starting up again as he passed. In the brush, he heard the quick rustling of small animals. Game aplenty.

Suddenly, he heard a roar. It echoed from slope to slope, stilling the morning cacophony. The hair rose on Tyr's body. The spines on his forearm were instantly erect. He dropped to a crouch at once, reaching out to a fallen branch nearby, fingers tightening around it. Slowly, his hasty weapon at his side, he rose and continued upward.

The roar came again, answered by feline howl. A storm of another type shattered the peace of the brightening valley. Tyr came up over a rise and stopped in his tracks, rooted to the earth by the sight of the two beasts. Enormous, teeth and claws flashing, the old warriors fought.

Heart pounding, using his stick now to support him, Tyr crouched at the base of tree as the bear gradually wore down the great cat, administering the coup de grace with a raking of its giant claw across the red-furred throat. Then, rearing on its hind legs, it roared again.

It saw him finally and dropped to all fours. Tyr rose and with pounding heart, watched it approach. Naked, armed only with a broken branch, he would have no chance against it.

It was very close now. He could smell its animal stink, the hot breath and the scent of the kill. The cool nose nudged his bound genitals. Unflinching, he waited while it sniffed, then, slowly, backed away. Once again, it sat up on his hindquarters and looked down at him, Kodiak to Kodiak. It seemed to nod, then dropped back on all fours and taking its kill, vanished into the forest.

Joy touched Tyr then, pure as the sunlight that spilled into the valley. He would be coming back. Dylan would keep his word! Heart singing, Tyr rose and with a final look at his kingdom to come, went back to the cave and his new life.

****
end