"Hey, Bucko, let's go for a drink!" Apollo practically exploded out of decontamination, full of all the energy that Starbuck didn't have. He grabbed his wingman's arm and pulled him out of the landing bay, and to their first stop - the public turboflushes. After a long patrol, the turboflushes were *always* the first stop.
"You're not very talkative today, Starbuck," Apollo commented over the sound of two men taking long leaks. "Is something wrong?"
Starbuck shrugged, and his shoulders ached. "I just don't feel quite right. Maybe I overdid it at Triad practice yesterday. I pulled something at the back of my left - upper thigh."
Apollo laughed. "Gluteus maximus - you pulled something in your butt, Starbuck! I saw you rubbing it after practice. I'm not sure you overused it playing Triad, though. There are other activities that use those muscles - one in particular that you're famous for."
Starbuck's mouth dropped open. Apollo was smiling the way he did when he played a practical joke on someone - usually poor Boomer. Starbuck couldn't imagine what had prompted his captain's rare display of mischief.
"You think I pulled something while -?"
Apollo thrust his hips forward suggestively. "While humping? Could be, Bucko, considering that you're known to do it for hours at a time."
Starbuck couldn't help but grin, despite the achy feeling that was now invading his knees. "My shoulders and knees hurt too."
"That's what you get, having too much sex, Starbuck." Apollo looked at his friend and frowned. "You aren't going to have much sex ever again if you keep trying to wring it out like that. "
Starbuck hadn't realized what he was doing. He tucked himself back into his clothes. "I don't want any dark spots on my uniform pants. You know, the military designers really could have chosen a better color with less chance of - of stains. Beige is just too dangerous."
They both held their hands under the auto-spray cleaner. Starbuck was starting to feel like felgercarb all over. He knew that Apollo had his mind set on having a drink, and he didn't want to disappoint his best friend. Maybe if he just took a couple of GX's - the all-purpose analgesics worked for pretty much any aches and pains.
"You look a little pale, Starbuck," Apollo said, gazing at his wingman in the mirror above the auto-spray. "Are you all right?" He put his hand on his lieutenant's forehead as though he were a small child. Of course, Apollo had a good deal of experience with small children. "No fever, I don't think. Is it just aches from Triad practice? We can stop by the Life Center and get some GX's before we go to the OC."
And because it seemed a sensible thing to do, Starbuck went along with it. He downed two of the small white pills with his first swig of grog in the OC. He winced when Boomer greeted him with a hearty clap on the back.
"Careful, Boom-boom! I'm feeling kind of fragile after being beaten to a pulp in Triad practice yesterday." Starbuck moved to his usual seat between Apollo and Boomer. Jolly, Greenbean and Giles were already in their accustomed places.
"Just getting old, Bucko!" Jolly laughed. "It happens to all of us."
Starbuck raised an eyebrow, as though mortally offended. "Jolly! And I thought you were my friend!" He reached across Boomer and patted Jolly's rather protuberant belly. "At least I've maintained my -"
"Girlish figure?" Apollo supplied helpfully.
Starbuck glared at his captain. "Optimum weight, I was going to say." He took another long swallow of grog. It tasted a bit off, and his throat felt rather scratchy. The banter continued, but Starbuck couldn't seem to pay attention to it. He just felt miserable.
He watched Apollo, quite put out that his normally reserved captain seemed to be so cheerful. He only caught the tail end of it, but he could have sworn that Apollo had just told a rather raunchy joke - something about doctors and writing implements and certain orifices. The rest of the table was laughing, but Starbuck felt far away. He just watched Apollo. He wondered why he had never noticed before that Apollo was frighteningly beautiful. His green eyes were bright, his dark hair thick and long and just the slightest bit mussed. Starbuck wanted to run his fingers through it. And Apollo's face was a chiseled work of art, even with the shadow of a beard. The stubble made him look just a bit dangerous, attractively roguish even.
####
It had been a hard game against Boomer and Cree. They were both hot and sweaty, but flushed with victory. Apollo ripped off his Triad helmet and shook his hair like a daggit.
"Great game, Bucko!" His hand lingered on Starbuck's shoulder just a fraction of a micron longer than usual. Boomer and Cree, dejected, had already gone into the turbowash. "Need help getting out of your uniform?"
By the time they had undressed each other, the turbowash was empty. Apollo stood under the spray, naked and unselfconscious, watching Starbuck with a mysterious half-smile. His foam-covered hands laved his arms, his chest, then moved down to his groin. Apollo's long cock sprang up from its dark nest, and his hands attended to it, stroking it, his eyes holding Starbuck's astonished gaze.
Apollo turned into the turbowash spray to rinse off, then he faced his wingman directly, his erection magnificent. He smiled at the sight of Starbuck's unequivocal response. "Well, Bucko, are you going to suck me nicely, or do I have to order you to do it?"
Starbuck fell to his knees before Apollo, clasping his arms about his hips. "Oh Lords, Apollo! I've wanted to do this forever. I'll do whatever you want - anything!" He took the straining cock into his mouth, tasting the saltiness of Apollo's pre-come, filling his throat with hot flesh. Groaning, unable to get enough, even though Apollo's hands were in his hair, holding him still as he fucked his mouth. Starbuck reached a hand down to fondle his own cock, letting Apollo use him as he wished, grateful that he could at least taste him. Grateful that soon his mouth and throat would be flooded with the taste of Apollo. He gripped Apollo's hips, felt him stiffen and cry out his name.
"Starbuck!" Apollo was shaking him. "Bucko, are you all right?"
"Huh?" Starbuck's throat felt raw. He picked up his mug and drained it.
"You were in a daze or something," Apollo told him. He looked worried, not roguish. Not commandingly seductive. Starbuck chastised himself for the thousandth time for having such thoughts about his best friend.
"Just - daydreaming." He swallowed painfully. Inadvertently, his hand went to his throat.
Apollo had only been a father for a little over a yahren, but he was an observant one, and he knew the signs of an impending cold. "You're getting sick, Starbuck! I hope you don't have that nasty cold that Boxey and his classmates have been getting. Boxey just got over it."
Boomer edged away from Starbuck. "Oh no, you're not giving me whatever you've got, Bucko! Why don't you go let Cassie take care of you, and take your germy self out of here."
Starbuck shook his head. "Not seeing Cassie any more." His throat was on fire.
Boomer laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"S'Okay. It was my fault." He tried to smile, but wasn't up to it.
"That's too bad, Bucko. Just when the Captain here starts exhibiting a festive nature, you get all morose."
"Not morose," Starbuck croaked. "Sick." Now that his erection had subsided, he felt safe standing up. He edged past Boomer. "I think I'd better head off to bed."
Apollo stood too. "I'm taking you back to the Life Center for some medicine. If this is like Boxey's cold, you won't be able to breathe by tomorrow. You need something for your throat now, and you'll need lots of wipes for your nose. Then you'll need cough medicine in a cycle or two. Boxey says that's the worst-tasting stuff."
"Wonderful!" Starbuck muttered. "I haven't had a cold in about three yahrens or more!"
Apollo took his arm and pulled him away from the others. "And I don't want you infecting all of Blue Squadron, either. You're staying with me until you get over this. You can have my bed and I'll sleep in the front room."
"But -" Starbuck's dreams of sleeping in Apollo's bed had never included these circumstances.
"No arguments!" Apollo said firmly.
****
After a quick check on a sleeping Boxey, Apollo settled Starbuck on the modular seat with a cup of hot tea laced with ambrosa. He arranged the various medicines on the little table where he and Boxey had breakfast at the beginning of each day. In addition to the GX's, there were two kinds of pills, a muscle rub, a liquid cough medicine, and lozenges for cough and sore throat. He stacked up the boxes of sterile wipes on the kaffe table.
"There - make sure you take a few boxes back to the bedroom with you."
Starbuck nodded listlessly. Apollo wasn't used to seeing his best friend like this; the last time he'd been really sick, Apollo's mother had taken charge of him, cosseting him along with her own sick children. They'd all had a wicked virus. It hadn't been pleasant; he and Starbuck had tried to distract themselves from their misery by counting how many times they threw up. It hadn't worked.
"Drink your tea, Bucko," he encouraged. "It'll make your throat feel better."
Obediently, Starbuck sipped a little. "Ambrosa's good," he commented. "Tea's not bad." That was a lot for him to admit; Apollo knew that Starbuck didn't like tea.
"How about your aches and pains? The med-tech gave us some muscle rub. I had to rub Boxey's back and shoulders for three days. I can do the same for you."
The blue eyes lifted to his, both pleading and wary. Apollo took the decision out of Starbuck's hands; his wingman was obviously in no shape to decide anything. "Come on. Let's get you on the bed and I'll rub your back."
"I can't steal your bed from you!" Starbuck protested. But Apollo had already taken the tea mug from his hands, and was dragging him to his feet.
"You're not stealing my bed, Bucko." Apollo swiped the throat lozenges from the table on their way back to his bedroom. "How about if I ordered you to sleep in my bed?"
Starbuck chuckled painfully. "Probably against regulations." While Apollo steered him toward the bed, he stashed Apollo's words away to use in a fantasy later.
Starbuck hadn't really been in Apollo's bedroom since before he'd married Serina - and then he'd had a single bedroom with an almost non-existent front room. This bedroom was much larger, and the bed was easily big enough for two. That thought made Starbuck hurt worse; he didn't want to think about Apollo with Serina. He'd been so wild with jealousy after their engagement - and especially when Serina had been assigned as Apollo's wingman - that he'd almost gotten himself killed. He'd almost wanted to die. Almost - but not quite. His gambling nature just wouldn't allow him to quit. And his luck had held, while Serina's hadn't. He was here with Apollo, and Serina was dead. Maybe he ought to feel bad about that, but he didn't.
Starbuck came out of his reverie with a start. Someone was undressing him! He wriggled away. "What are you doing, buddy?" He warned Apollo off with an uncharacteristically stern tone. His heart thumped fast and loud. He couldn't help it; fears left over from his days as a pretty and unprotected orphan sometimes crept back when he least expected it.
Apollo backed off immediately. His expression was one of hurt. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to - you can't sleep in your uniform! You weren't responding - you were in one of those dazes again. I was just trying to help."
Starbuck nodded and shrugged out of his flight jacket. He wasn't afraid of Apollo - far from it! He let Apollo help him with the tunic and boots. Apollo tactfully stood up and opened his closet door. "If you can manage to get your pants off and get in bed, I'll find you a robe and some sleep-shorts."
When Apollo came back with the robe and shorts, Starbuck was dutifully in bed. The pillows smelled like Apollo; the whole bedroom was filled with his presence and his scent. If what Apollo said was true, he wouldn't have to endure that particular torture for long; by tomorrow his nose would be stuffy.
Apollo sat on the edge of the bed, unwrapping something. Before Starbuck could make any argument, Apollo had poked a throat lozenge into his mouth. "There - you can suck on that while I rub your back. Turn over." Starbuck turned onto his stomach, forgetting - on purpose - to put on the silky sleep-shorts.
The muscle-rub that the med-tech had provided smelled like some kind of mint, pungent but not unpleasant. Apollo smoothed some over Starbuck's back before beginning a strong, slow massage. Over the yahrens, they had given each other quick massages before Triad games, or to alleviate a cramping in a particular muscle. Never a massage like this, with one of them lying down and expected to go to sleep afterwards. Starbuck's cock reacted with a surge of life against the mattress. Oh, this was going to give him material for the most erotic fantasies!
"Feels like heaven, Pol," he groaned into the pillow. "If I thought heaven would be like this, maybe I could be persuaded to be good."
Apollo chuckled. "I never heard that massages were given in heaven, Starbuck. So don't give up your vices too quickly."
But you'll be in heaven, Starbuck thought. So I'll have to find out how to get there too. I'll gamble with Diabolus himself to make sure that I stay with you. Aloud, he said, "I'll repent eventually - just not today."
"That's the Starbuck I know and love." Apollo moved his hands to Starbuck's shoulders. "Now let me know if I'm hurting you."
Starbuck muttered something; he was stuck on Apollo's previous sentence. Did Apollo really love him - or was that just an expression? And why was Apollo so cheerful lately? As though he loved the whole universe? Starbuck couldn't think of a single subtle way to find out, so he asked outright.
"What has you in such a good mood, Pol? Get laid recently?"
Apollo laughed. "I wish! No, but I have my hopes. I've done a lot of thinking lately, and I've decided that when the time is right, I'm going to throw caution out the airlock and follow my heart. I'm tired of living up to everyone's expectations. I'm tired of always suppressing my real feelings."
"You didn't tell Sheba and Bojay off, did you?"
"No - but I'll get to that, I'm sure." Apollo's hands moved in a slow effleurage, starting in the middle of Starbuck's back and smoothing outwards. It felt wonderful! Starbuck moaned involuntarily, floating somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Apollo's chuckle was warm and seductive.
His hands stroked down over Starbuck's buttocks, kneading, slick with the scented muscle salve. Starbuck recalled that he hadn't put the sleep-shorts on, hoping that Apollo would touch him there.
"You like this, don't you?" Apollo breathed. "You want me to touch you here, open you and touch you inside, don't you? You know, there are ancient techniques for massaging inside the anus. Would you like me to show you?"
Starbuck's heart pounded. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes - please."
"I know you'll like it, " Apollo said confidently, stroking some of the salve into the cleft. A finger circled Starbuck's anus and slowly slipped inside. "Now that you're relaxed, you'll accept my finger easily. See?" He slid it in and out and in again, making Starbuck gasp with pleasure. "It feels good, doesn't it?" He didn't wait for Starbuck to answer. "Let's try to get another finger in, shall we?" Apollo added another finger, and thrust them in deep, finding and rubbing against that glorious spot hidden inside. "Ah, there it is! I'm going to stroke your prostate until you come, Starbuck. And then if you're good, I might be persuaded to fuck you."
"Yes, anything you want," Starbuck murmured.
Apollo laughed. "It's only a massage, Bucko. No need to promise me your firstborn!"
Starbuck groaned. Frack! It was only a fantasy once again, and he was hard as stone against the mattress. "It just feels so good," he said. Apollo *was* massaging his buttocks, he realized.
"Don't tense up now!" Apollo admonished. "I just got that knot out of your gluteus maximus and now you're putting it back again! You must have strained it but good during Triad practice."
Starbuck made a conscious effort to relax.
"Want me to tell you a story to make you go to sleep?" Apollo asked, only half-joking. "Boxey has a few favorites that you might like."
"No, thanks for the massage, buddy. I'll sleep like a baby." Starbuck was suddenly aware that he was taking up Apollo's bed. "Why don't you sleep here and I'll go out to the modular seat."
Apollo yawned. "Nope. You sleep here. But if I won't disturb you, I could just fall asleep here too."
"I don't mind," Starbuck said, already dozing off. He felt Apollo crawl in beside him before he slept at last.
****
Starbuck woke in the middle of sleep period. His throat wasn't as sore as it had been, but he was congested and his head was throbbing. It took him a few microns to realize that he was in Apollo's bed, with Apollo sleeping soundly beside him. He struggled to recall what had happened. Had Apollo really been massaging his buttocks? He thought so, but the rest was his own perverted fantasy.
He slid out of the bed, careful not to wake Apollo, and went first to the turboflush and then into the front room to find his medicines. He found a mug, filled it with water, and took two GX's and one each of the little white pills. Then he blew his nose and tiptoed back to bed again. Guiltily, but so gratefully, he snuggled back against Apollo and fell asleep again.
Part 2
"Bucko, wake up! I've got to be in the duty office in fifteen centons and I have to get Boxey off to Instructional Period first."
Starbuck opened his eyes and groaned. Apollo was in his uniform, and he was holding a glass.
"Ugh," Starbuck said groggily. "I can't breathe."
"I know. Here, take your pills and go back to sleep." Apollo held out two little white pills and Starbuck levered up on his elbow to take them and the glass of water. He swallowed the pills and flopped back down.
"Thanks," he said. "Thanks for the massage last night. My muscles feel better - but my head is going to explode now."
"Take it easy. I'll be back in six centars, at fifteen hundred. Athena is going to take Boxey for tonight so I can take care of you. I thought that was awfully nice of her." Apollo smiled. "Feel better, Bucko."
"Thanks," Starbuck said again.
****
When Starbuck woke two centars later, he felt suddenly very awake and rather energized for some reason. His nose wasn't quite so congested, but his ears were ringing and he felt a bit hot. After a nice long turbowash, he put on the sleep-shorts Apollo laid out for him, but was too hot to wear the robe. Fidgety and itching for something to do, Starbuck made himself a cup of tea - Apollo would really think he was ill - and turned on the IFB while he ate some flaked grains. Tales from the Book only held his interest for about three centons, however, so he tidied up the front room while he finished his breakfast. Then he noticed a few crawlon webs and some dust, and spent a few minutes wiping surfaces down with a rag he found in the turbowashroom closet.
His nose began to act up again, and he went through almost a whole box of sterile wipes. His nose then felt raw and chapped. He hated having a cold! It was so - demoralizing! His brain felt far away, and rather fuzzy. He picked up the two bottles of pills. The first one said to take one every six centars. The second said to take one every twelve centars. Starbuck frowned. When had he taken the pills in the middle of sleep period? He hadn't been awake enough to remember. And then Apollo had given him two more when? At oh-eight-hundred?
Starbuck commed the Life Center, and Cassie answered. She almost broke off the com when she heard who it was.
"Cassie, please!" he begged. "Don't cut me off! I think I took too much cold medicine."
She sighed audibly and asked him what he had taken and when. After he'd read to her the names of the medicines and the approximate times that he'd taken the pills, she sighed again.
"Well, Starbuck, you're not going to die from it. You're just going to be sleepy and rather dopey. I'd like to say that would be unusual for you, but -"
"Gee, thanks, Cassie. Dopey how?"
"Different people react differently," she said unhelpfully. "Maybe you'll just be sleepy, maybe you'll hallucinate. Most people do something in between."
"What about cleaning?"
"Cleaning?"
"For the past centar I've had this urge to clean up things. Is the medicine doing that?" Starbuck had never in his life felt an urge to clean anything.
"Knowing you, Starbuck, it would have to be either the medicine - or demonic possession. Take advantage of it while it lasts, then take a long nap until the effects of the drugs wear off."
"Thanks for the advice."
Starbuck didn't feel at all sleepy. He wandered back into Apollo's room, and sat down at Apollo's computer. He keyed into the medical database and looked up the reactions of the medicines he had taken. Not that he didn't trust Cassie, but he wanted to know exactly what side effects he might experience. The list didn't look good: dizziness, weakness, sweating, agitation, blurred vision, mental disorientation, memory impairment, hallucinations, sedation or exaggerated feeling of well-being. And those were only the common side-effects at the regular dose!
Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. He may as well alleviate boredom while he waited to feel sleepy enough to go back to sleep. Starbuck exited the medical database and began pulling up random files that Apollo had stored. Maybe he'd find something interesting; he knew that all of the military files were stored on the main databases, so he wouldn't be able to even pull up his own personnel records. Not that he wanted to; he'd done that from the duty office only sectons ago, and there weren't even any smudges on his record that needed to be removed. He was getting stodgy in his old age, he realized. He hadn't even been put on report for over a yahren!
Most of Apollo's files were articles or chapters of ancient texts that he'd downloaded from the main databases for later perusal. Starbuck considered them rather dry reading material. Then he encountered a file that demanded a password in order to open it. It was labeled simply 'File1'. Intrigued, Starbuck began trying some of Apollo's favorite passwords that he used in the duty office. Apollo liked numbers; he generally used his own military registration number or Starbuck's or Boomer's for anything relating to Blue Squadron. When Starbuck keyed in his own number, the file opened.
At first glance, it was innocuous enough. It was a story, a first-person narrative. It began with what sounded like a usual patrol. The specifics were accurate in every detail; Starbuck was absolutely convinced that Apollo - or some other Viper pilot - had written this narrative. Except that after a typical probe landing was described, with the author and his wingman performing the ordinary tests, things began to get - interesting - between the two men. Starbuck read with shock the first scene on the unnamed planet, in which the two men were trapped in a cave during a storm. Suddenly declaring their hitherto unmentioned feelings for each other, they flung off their clothing and went at each other like mustelas in heat. The author had conveniently brought a tube of surgical lubricant with him, which he put to good use on his wingman. The wingman was never named, although he was described in loving detail, from the top of his golden head to his slender, high-arched feet. It was steamier than anything Starbuck had ever read, more erotic because it wasn't crude, even though it was explicit. He fell into the story, his hand rubbing against his own erection to ease the ache there.
'I plunder his mouth again, needing the taste of him as I need my next breath. He moans against my mouth, all sweetness and pungent spice, and I revel in the brush of masculine stubble against my face. He is slender in my arms, but all male - very much male. His erection leaps against mine, and we rub the sensitive velvet heads together, chuckling a little at the whimsical conceit of it. I whisper to him, urge him to kneel before me and suckle me. His mouth is beautiful and skilled, so hot that I have to pull away before spilling. I have other plans, and my wingman knows it. He doesn't protest when I turn him onto hands and knees; he knows that I mean only to love him, not degrade him in any way. He knows that now. The first times for him long ago were painful and full of nightmares, and it took him sectars to trust me enough to allow this most intimate invasion. So I stretch him and arouse him with my fingers until his hips lift to my hand. I wait until he pleads for it before sheathing my cock in him, and both of us cry out as I slide home. Home. It's where I belong, inside his body. As he belongs in me. We belong together, and everything between us is a joy that I never could have imagined. I reach around to caress his lovely cock, thrusting into him gently, waiting until he lets me know that he wants all my passion. I grit my teeth and wait because I never want to hurt him. When he bucks up against me, I know that it's time, and I unleash the wildness, careful of my love even so. His cries of delight reward me as much as the pleasure that I receive from tunneling into his soft heat. My seed erupts within him, and I wonder if he can feel the liquid gush of it even as his semen drenches my hand. Then we fall to our sides, still joined, and I curl around him, whispering all the words of love that I can think of before we drift into sleep.'
Starbuck caught his own ejaculation in his hand, gasping. He cleaned himself with some sterile wipes, surprised to find that he could breathe a bit easier. He read the passage again, and still found it erotic and stirring in a way that he couldn't quite define. Could Apollo have written this? And if so, did it mean what he desperately wanted it to mean? Starbuck read on, finding scene after scene of fondly-described sexual intimacies; even he would have been hard-pressed to think of much else that he'd want to try with another man. When Apollo came back, though, he was going to ask him. He'd been having these fantasies for too long; if there was even a chance that Apollo felt the same way about him, it was worth the risk. If not, he could always blame it on the cold medicine.
Starbuck closed the file and, suddenly tired, climbed back into Apollo's bed.
****
A hand was stroking his side when he gradually came up out of the fog of sleep, and a warm body was curled behind him.
"Mmmm," he purred. "Pol?"
"Yes, it's me. How do you feel?"
"Better, I think. My nose isn't quite so stuffy. Is it fifteen hundred already?"
"Past that. Are you hungry?" The hand on his side slid around his chest to embrace him briefly. Starbuck wriggled his hips back against Apollo's groin. The hardness there was unmistakable.
"Not yet. I have to ask you something, Pol."
"Yes?"
"Do you want me?"
Apollo laughed. "Oh, you can feel that poking you?"
"Can't miss it," Starbuck chuckled. "There's a matching one over on this side."
"Is there?" Apollo's hand moved down to find it. "So there is. What's in this cold medicine anyway? The whole room smelled like sex when I came in a centar ago. And why were you cleaning my quarters, for Sagan's sake?"
"I had to," Starbuck mumbled, still sleepy. "I just saw things that needed cleaning or tidying, and I *had* to do something about it."
"Did you just *have* to jerk off too?" Apollo asked, teasing.
"Yes, after I found that story you wrote."
"What story?" Apollo seemed curious, not angry.
"On your computer - the story about the Viper pilots who go down to a planet to check it out, get stuck in a cave during a storm and frack each other's brains out. But it isn't just sex - they love each other. And the story was so - so erotic, that I wanted it to be real."
"You - you weren't disgusted by it?" Apollo seemed doubtful, but his erection hadn't subsided.
"Oh no, not at all. If I'd thought that you wanted me, I would have offered myself to you on hands and knees, like in the story. I think I've memorized it." Starbuck began to quote from the story: " ' He doesn't protest when I turn him onto hands and knees; he knows that I mean only to love him, not degrade him in any way. He knows that now. The first times for him long ago were painful and full of nightmares, and it took him sectars to trust me enough to allow this most intimate invasion. So I stretch him and arouse him with my fingers until his hips lift to my hand. I wait until he pleads for it before sheathing my cock in him, and both of us cry out as I slide home. Home. It's where I belong, inside his body. As he belongs in me. We belong together, and everything between us is a joy that I never could have imagined.' " He paused, waiting for a reaction from Apollo. "I think that's beautiful, Pol. How long ago did you write it?"
"Um, I don't remember. I'm surprised that you found it."
"It needed a password to get into it. I hope you don't mind that I guessed it."
"No, but I'm a bit embarrassed that you found something so - personal. How much of it did you read?"
"The whole thing - all forty pages or so." Starbuck laughed. "I had no idea you were so inventive, Pol! Honestly, every sexual scenario that I can think of was in that story - I mean everything that I'd want to do with you if you wanted it."
"You'll have to refresh my memory, Star." Apollo deposited a few little nipping kisses on the back of Starbuck's neck. "I must have written that after looking up everything I could find about male to male sex. I've never actually tried any of it." He paused. "Your experiences weren't so good back at the orphanage, from what you told me. I'm surprised that you'd even want to try it again."
Starbuck sighed. "It's different if you're in love with someone, just like you wrote in the story. I've been in love with you forever, Pol. You'd never hurt me. Not on purpose. I know that." He turned over and met wide green eyes. "I've got a cold, so you may not want to kiss me, but -"
Apollo drew him closer and kissed him until he gasped for air. "To hells with your cold," Apollo said. "I'll have to remember not to suffocate you though, since you're congested."
"You could kiss me other places," Starbuck suggested hopefully. "I've wanted to kiss your eyes and those lovely high cheekbones for a long time - maybe since we met in line at registration at the Academy."
"Really?" Apollo tilted Starbuck's chin up, licked a path along his throat, then blew gently on the dampened patch of skin.
"Oh, that's so good, Pol! Nice and cool, and I'm so hot." He threw his head back and let Apollo lick his throat, his collarbones, his nipples. Lick and blow, softly cool. Heaven. But it couldn't last. This was Starbuck's fantasy and he wanted more. He asked for it in unequivocal terms.
Apollo opened the drawer to the little cabinet next to the bed and retrieved a tube of lip salve. "Will this do as lube, Star?" At Starbuck's nod, he applied some to his fingers and waited for his wingman to get into position on hands and knees. Starbuck was shaking with anticipation. Could this really be happening? If it was just another dream, he was going to enjoy it anyway.
Apollo spread the lubricant into the cleft, and one finger circled delicately before slipping slowly in. Starbuck moaned. Apollo moved the finger in and out and in again, then added a second. It was just like the previously-aborted fantasy. It felt good, so damned good.
"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Apollo asked breathlessly. "Oh Star, you're so hot inside, and smooth like damp satin. Lords of Kobol! If I put my cock inside you, I'm going to come too fast, like a teenage virgin!"
Starbuck chuckled. "So? Then we just start over again. I'm not going to last long myself - not after dreaming about this for so long." His hips lifted to force Apollo's fingers deeper. He groaned when the fingers rubbed against that internal core of nerve endings that drove him crazy. Apollo chuckled with triumph.
"Am I touching it right? I know that your prostate is there somewhere, but it's been a long time since I had anatomy lessons."
"Touch it like that any more and I'll come," Starbuck told him. "Wait until I do it to you - it's so intense it makes you want to scream."
"Something else to look forward to, then." Apollo knelt behind Starbuck's upturned rear, removing his fingers gently. "Is it all right if I come inside you now, Star?"
"Please!" Starbuck could scarcely wait. He was well-primed and relaxed, and the sensation of Apollo's cock breaching him was more thrilling than frightening. It hurt a bit, but he'd experienced far worse pain, so he pushed back to assist the entry. Apollo grasped his hips to steady him, to prevent him from forcing too quick an impalement.
"Easy, Star, easy!" he whispered hoarsely. "Slowly, I don't want to hurt you." Then Apollo let out a groan as his groin finally pressed up against Starbuck's buttocks. "Gods, I'm all the way in you, Star. I'm going to come - can't wait!" Apollo convulsed and cried out and Starbuck felt the climax in his vitals.
"Stay with me, Pol," he begged, needing more of the fullness. He was trembling so violently that Apollo made him lie flat. But Apollo followed him down, covering him with his own body like a blanket, still firmly embedded. Still hard, or was that hard again? Starbuck didn't care which it was. "I need you to - to thrust in me, Pol. I need it more than anything." The admission made him feel so raw and exposed that he wanted to take it back. He was bold in his fantasies, asking for what he wanted, but that was because he always knew how the fantasy-Apollo would react. He wasn't sure any more that this was a fantasy; Starbuck didn't seem to be able to control this Apollo.
Apollo kissed Starbuck's shoulder. "By your command, Star," he laughed. He pushed himself up onto his hands and ground his hips down, thrusting slowly and firmly. Starbuck could scarcely move, except to tilt his hips up a bit. It wasn't enough. "Let me up - on hands and knees again," he gasped.
"Ah, you want to be able to move, too? So you can get me hitting the right spot? That makes sense." Apollo pushed himself back onto his knees, pulling Starbuck with him. "Is that better?" He performed a few experimental thrusts, then chuckled. "Oh yes, it's better for me, too, Star! Lords, this is amazing!"
Starbuck agreed wholeheartedly. He let out a series of whimpering cries each time Apollo's cock stroked against his prostate. He could hear Apollo gasping, too, and asking if it was all right.
Since when did a fantasy-Apollo, in the midst of the pounding drive toward climax, ask if it was all right?
Starbuck decided it wasn't worth puzzling over. "Of course it's all right! Just don't stop, Pol!" Apollo's hesitance was making him crazy. "Please, Pol! Harder!" He pushed back into every stroke until Apollo got the idea that it was all right for him to thrust deep and hard, unleashing the wildness. Yes, like the story, Starbuck realized. And, as in the story, Apollo's hand reached around him to enclose his straining cock. Starbuck shouted in wordless gratitude and surrendered entirely to the rhythmic force of Apollo's thrusts. He heard his own animal moans as the stabbing pleasure became sharper and ever sweeter. Until there was one perfect moment of absolute delight before the wringing spasms of orgasm struck, so powerful that he was temporarily voiceless.
Into that small space of silence, Apollo's triumphant shout sounded, and Starbuck felt himself flooded with heat. Apollo held him until their tremors had ceased, then rolled them onto their sides, still joined. Starbuck smiled.
"Now you're supposed to whisper words of love," he reminded Apollo.
Apollo made a sleepy sound and pulled the blankets over them. "I love you, Starbuck," he murmured. "I'll go into more detail after a nap." He cuddled Starbuck close, and from the even sounds of his breathing, Starbuck could tell that he had fallen asleep.
Would a fantasy-Apollo from the story fall asleep before making suitable declarations of love, or at least expressions of gratitude for very hot sex? Starbuck didn't think so. But then again, this cold medicine had been having some very odd effects on him. With the tiny echoes of orgasm reverberating warm throughout his body, and Apollo's arm around him, he let himself sleep.
****
Starbuck awoke coughing. A tickly cough, but one that foretold a nastier cough to come. He found the box of cough drops on the cabinet beside the bed and tentatively put one in his mouth. The flavor was fruit and honey, thank the Lords! None of that miserable lemon and turpentine flavor, or lemon and hull sealant or whatever it was.
Apollo wasn't in bed with him, though it seemed that the other side of the bed had been slept in. There was no evidence of sex immediately noticeable, and Starbuck was still too congested to smell a thing. He got out of bed and tiptoed to the turbowash, but once he caught a glimpse of the front room, it was obvious that Apollo wasn't there. The wall-chrono said it was twenty-one hundred. Definitely time for more cold medicine, and some cough liquid too. Starbuck took the two little white pills and a swallow of the cough liquid.
Just as he was about to get into the turbowash, the wall-com chimed. He ran out into the front room and pressed the button to answer.
"Starbuck!" Cassie seemed surprised to hear his voice. "Apollo was just asking about your - condition. He said you'd been sleeping for centars, and saying some pretty odd things. How are you feeling?"
"I'm starting to cough, and I'm still congested," he grumbled. "Did he say what kind of odd things?"
"No, but he did mention that you cleaned his whole front room." Cassie laughed. "I told him that he should just thank you instead of being upset about it."
"D'you know where he is?" Starbuck wondered if he sounded whiny. He could always use the cold medicine as an excuse - for a lot of things.
"He just went to get some food from the OC Commissary," Cassie replied. "He'll be back to feed you and tuck you in in no time." Starbuck thought he detected a note of spite in her voice. Well, no wonder. She'd had such high hopes of sealing with him, only to discover - quite by accident - that his fantasies involved a certain green-eyed Strike Captain. Ultimately, that had put an end to his relationship with Cassie, and Starbuck couldn't really blame her.
"Thanks, Cass." Starbuck hadn't ever talked in his sleep before a few sectons ago, at least not that he knew of.
He stood under the spray of the turbowash, smiling. He wanted to be clean when Apollo returned. Maybe they could try enacting one of those other very hot and sexy scenes that Apollo had written. And he wanted to hear Apollo confess his love again. That was what made everything they did together good and right, not shameful and evil, like what had been done to him before. Not even slightly humiliating, the way his fantasies of Apollo had always been. Apollo's love made all the difference.
Starbuck went into Apollo's room to dry off, and while he was there, turned on the computer. His fingers tapped on the keys, searching for the file that he'd found by accident before. It wasn't there. He tried various search methods, with no results. He searched for files that had been renamed, but with no luck. He searched for recently deleted files, but he knew that he would only see the ones that were in the queue for deletion. If someone wanted to delete a file with no trace, and they were high enough in the chain of command, there would be no record of the deletion. Apollo could do that. Why he *would* do it, Starbuck wasn't certain.
Starbuck *was* very certain, that if it hadn't been for the cold medicine making his brain rather fuzzy, he'd be quite panicked by now. Panicked and hurt. Was Apollo so mortified by what they'd done that he'd try to make it seem like it never happened? Would he try to pretend that it was a hallucination brought on by an overdose of cold medicine? Would he even want Starbuck as a friend after what had happened? Starbuck could feel his chest constricting, his breaths laboring; it always happened this way when he anticipated some cataclysmic emotional blow. The last times had been when he saw Iblis kill Apollo, and before that when Apollo and Serina announced their engagement at that wretched little dinner party in Adama's quarters.
Having a cold made it worse. Breathing in was difficult; exhaling was near to impossible. He heard himself wheezing. From experience, he knew that a few cups of kaffe might be able to stop it. Starbuck wrapped his towel around his waist and went out into the front room to make some kaffe. Tears leaked from his eyes as he tried to concentrate on breathing. In, and out (wheeze), and in and out (wheeze). What if Apollo found him dead on the floor when he returned? Would he care? Would he ever admit to anyone that he'd been in love with his best friend and wingman? Would he rewrite the ending of the story so that his wingman died in his arms? Tears dripped into the mug of kaffe that was still too hot to drink.
The door slid open and Apollo came in - at least Starbuck thought it was Apollo under the burden of bags and stems of bright red and pink blooms.
"Bucko!" he called cheerfully.
Starbuck managed nothing more than a wheeze in response.
Apollo dumped all of his packages on the modular seat and rushed to Starbuck's side. "Oh Lords! What's wrong? Starbuck!" His hands were all over Starbuck's face, feeling for fever, for breath, brushing aside the tears. "Talk to me, Bucko!"
"Can't breathe," Starbuck wheezed. "Kaffe will help."
"I'll com the Life Center."
Starbuck shook his head violently. "No!" He sipped at the kaffe.
Apollo hovered around Starbuck, looking distraught. "This is my fault, isn't it? I shouldn't have pushed you into - something you weren't ready for. And you have a cold, for Sagan's sake! I'm such a selfish bastard! I should have waited until you were in your right mind at least. Cassie told me that you'd taken too much medicine, and that you could be incoherent or hallucinating." Apollo paced the small space between the food prep area and the modular seat. "I didn't know that before, but I knew you were kind of - woozy."
"Not hallucinating," Starbuck croaked. That was one of the few words of Apollo's babbling that had registered in his oxygen-starved brain. He coughed, and his airways felt a bit clearer. "Not going to fall for that, Apollo!"
"Fall for what?" Apollo frowned.
"You!" Starbuck pointed at his Captain. "You pretending nothing happened." He coughed again. "There *are*- uh - residual signs, you know."
Apollo's cheeks began to take on a reddish hue. "Well, uh, I guess there might be. I wasn't trying to pretend nothing happened, Star!" He gestured toward the modular seat. "I even brought you flowers! But I'm sorry that I took advantage of your less-than-alert state."
"I'm not." Starbuck gulped a large quantity of kaffe. "Don't let the flowers just die over there, Pol - if they're mine, I want them." He gave a pathetic cough.
Apollo brought over the flowers and the vase he had bought to hold them. "I hope you like them, Star," he said shyly. "I wasn't really sure if flowers were appropriate, but - "
"Of course they are!" Starbuck ducked his head around the mass of colorful blossoms. "From you they are. And kisses are appropriate too."
Apollo took the hint and bent to kiss his wingman's lips, gently, so as not to interfere with his breathing. "I had no idea you were such a romantic!" he teased.
"I had no idea you could write erotic romance," Starbuck countered. "Why did you delete that file? I wanted to read it a few more times."
"Uh, I'm not sure that there was ever a file like the one you were talking about." Apollo's cheeks were ruddy again. "You seemed to have most of it in your head."
Starbuck frowned. The latest pills he'd taken had started to kick in. Could he have dreamed that whole story? All forty-odd pages of it? He regarded Apollo suspiciously. "You didn't write that? Then how did you know to do the things - oh, I recited that whole passage for you, didn't I?"
Apollo nodded. "I'm sorry if I was clumsy. I'll get better, I promise. That is, if you want to - um, continue to -"
"Be lovers?" Starbuck supplied.
"Yes." Apollo toyed with one of the red-petaled blooms as Starbuck tried to arrange the stems in the vase. "Do you? I didn't give you much chance to think about it before I took advantage of you."
Starbuck chuckled. He could breathe much more easily now. "I didn't need more than a micron to think about it, Pol. My fantasies about you were getting to be - rather inconvenient. Not only daydreams, but nightdreams so vivid that apparently I talked in my sleep. That's why Cassie dumped me; she got tired of hearing about you - in graphic detail."
Apollo's slow smile brightened the dimly-lit room. "Really? I've loved you forever, I think. I tried to hide it, even from myself, but just recently I decided that if ever you gave me the slightest hint that you might be interested in something more than friendship, I was going to sweep you into my arms and never let go." He laughed. "How's that for being romantic?"
"Oh Pol! I never thought you'd love me," Starbuck sniffled. He hoped that Apollo would attribute the sniffles to the cold. "Even in my fantasies, I never let myself believe that you loved me. I felt so wicked, thinking about you like that."
"Those must have been pretty sad fantasies, then," Apollo said softly. "Of course, if there's anything you want, feel free to ask. I'd hate to be a boring lover."
"Never." Starbuck put the flowers on the kaffe-table, and walked into Apollo's arms. They hugged fiercely for a full centon.
"I brought food, since we missed supper," Apollo whispered. "I remembered from our Academy days that you like Yevanese food, and the soup should be especially good for you."
Starbuck did indeed love Yevanese food, and he hadn't eaten for so long that he ate his share and more. They fed each other the flaky little dessert pastries, laughing when the honeyed filling dribbled down their chins. It was just another opportunity to kiss and lick at each other.
And after supper, more kissing and licking ensued, and they went back to Apollo's bed - their bed - and found new ways to love and adore each other. Apollo declared his love so often, and so fervently, that even the hidden part of Starbuck - the one that cringed in fear of rejection - was soothed and appeased. They talked far into the sleep cycle about how they would approach Adama and Tigh, how they would insist on remaining wingmates no matter what, how they would explain things to Boxey, and how they would handle the mixed reactions they knew they would encounter.
It wasn't until Starbuck was lying on his back, his legs lifted over Apollo's shoulders, that it struck him. "Pol, do you think my feet are pretty?" he asked.
Apollo turned his head to kiss each foot. "They're beautiful, Star! So delicate and narrow, with those lovely high arches!" He kissed them again, and continued to immerse himself in Starbuck's willing body.
"You wrote it," Starbuck said firmly, as if daring Apollo to deny it. Apollo said nothing, just did his best to distract Starbuck from any coherent thought.
"I know you wrote it," Starbuck said again, taunting this time.
"How could you know that?" Apollo gasped.
Starbuck laughed. "I hate my feet, Pol. Not in my wildest fantasy would I *ever* describe my feet as lovingly as you do!"
"Frack! Can we discuss this sometime when I'm not buried inside you, trying to frack you into next secton?" Apollo tossed his head and droplets of perspiration went flying. He bent forward over Starbuck, pushing his legs against his chest, joining their mouths in a lustful kiss.
"Next secton?" Starbuck groaned against his Captain's lips. "How about next sectar? Gods, Apollo, you feel so good inside me! Better than any fantasy!"
****
"So you wrote it," Starbuck gasped almost as soon as he was able to speak. "Don't deny it. I want to know when you wrote it, and why you deleted it." He noticed that he could breathe quite easily and he only felt the slightest urge to cough.
Apollo groaned. He was lying flat on his back, his chest still heaving from his exertions. "Lords, Star! Do you always want to talk after sex? I thought only women did that."
"That's a terrible thing to say!" Starbuck snuggled up against Apollo's side, his head on Apollo's right shoulder. "But I think it's the cold medicine making me talkative. Just be glad I don't get up and start cleaning the bedroom. Once the six-centar pill wears off, that's when I'm likely to get groggy. So, when did you write that glorious bit of erotic romance?"
"The first yahren after the Academy, when we were separated, posted on different cruisers." Apollo sighed. "I missed you, Star."
"That was almost ten yahrens ago!" Starbuck recalled those three colorless yahrens, when he only happened to see Apollo when they had coinciding furlons. "I missed you too. Why did you delete it? I rather liked it." Starbuck stroked a finger over Apollo's right nipple, until it ruched in response.
"I was always afraid that someone would find it," Apollo said, turning his head to kiss Starbuck's golden hair. "Besides, now that I have the real thing, I don't need it any more."
"Oh Pol!" Starbuck sighed. "That's so sweet!" As soon as he could, Starbuck planned to write down all of Apollo's story that he could remember, and what he couldn't remember - well, he was quite capable of filling in the gaps.
Apollo smiled. "I'm not sure that I'd call it sweet. I spent quite a few lonely centars reading that story, with my left hand glued to my cock."
Starbuck laughed. "As soon as I can breathe properly, my mouth is going to be glued to your cock." He wrapped his fingers around the object in question. He'd fantasized Apollo's cock as being long and slim; in reality, it was long and rather thick. Sucking on it was going to be interesting. He licked his lips. "I'm going to 'engulf your rigid cock in the slick, satin heat of my mouth.' Isn't that how it starts?"
"Speaking of that," Apollo ventured hesitantly. "Should my throat feel sore after - um, what I did to you earlier? It didn't feel sore right after, but now it hurts when I swallow. And my shoulders ache."
Starbuck reached over to the cabinet and handed the throat lozenges to Apollo. "I'm afraid, my love, that your sore throat means that you've caught my sniffles."
The End