A Gift to the Gods

By Sioux

Blakes 7

Pairing : Avon/Tarrant

NC17

No Spoilers

Archive: WWOMB anyone else please ask.

Summary: As Avon and Tarrant try to recruit new players in the battle against the federation they find themselves a little oasis of peace.

Disclaimers : I don't own the characters, only letting them out to play.

All feedback gratefully received at Sioux_s@hotmail.com

Tarrant tried his best to unobtrusively stretch the kinks out of his neck muscles, he didn’t want to disrupt the proceedings as negotiations were going so well. But they had all been sitting around this table for ten hours a day for the last three days and he was getting stiff. However, he knew these people were going to join them. Their way of life was too precious to them to allow the Terran Federation to step in and ruin it for them.

And there was certainly a lot to be said for their way of life.

Carved and fluted stone columns held the roof in place, the stone hall was delightfully cool and shaded from the glare of the hot sun outside. The hall itself was lofty and spacious.

From an open window Tarrant could see a view of a sports track where young men were practising games. He wasn’t too
keen on their version of sports clothing or rather lack of it. He knew he would feel far too self-conscious to exercise in public in the nude, as was the custom here.

Beyond the track more distant stone buildings shone pale in the sunlight. All were different and distinct but harmonised beautifully together, from large public edifices down to tiny, one-room shops in the marketplace.

The people were friendly and open, food and wine freely given.

In fact they tended to get insulted if guests, such as themselves, didn’t partake lavishly. Tarrant found it to be a truly amazing culture.

Trapped in his reveries he failed to notice he was being watched, as he watched the men outside. When Tarrant caught the eye of the young man who had been watching him, he grinned slightly and flushed. The man, a junior member of Plonius’ council, flashed back a very admiring smile, his teeth showing gleaming white against his tanned skin.

At Plonius’ next words, the man looked back at Tarrant with what could only be described as a ‘come hither’ look.

Quickly Tarrant tuned in to the last bit of the speech.

“….and after we take meat together, we will hold a Thanksgiving at the Temple in honour of our new allies.”

A brief pause then thunderous applause broke out. Under cover of Avon’s few words of acceptance, several other junior members of the council began to smile hot little smiles in Tarrant’s direction.

The meeting broke up and Avon was almost besieged by the junior Ministers, all of whom seemed to want his attention.

Tarrant noticed a look of confusion cross his face at their conversation just before Plonius claimed Tarrant’s attention.

Suddenly Avon ghosted up to them and at a convenient break in their conversation he asked, “Excuse me Minister, but what exactly happens at the Thanksgiving?”

“We all go to the Temple, there is a brief dedication ceremony then the customary bathing and then we give our pleasure to the gods.” The old man smiled at Avon, “Is something wrong?”

“Er, no. Pleasure?” Avon questioned carefully.

“Yes, we dedicate our sexual pleasure to the gods.”

An awkward smile plastered itself over Avon’s face, whilst Tarrant felt his mind spin a little. He was under no illusions that sex in this context would involve women. This society kept strictly to the ways of Ancient Greece, women for childbearing, men for loving. The meaning behind all those hot little smiles suddenly became blindingly obvious. Even with his energy levels Tarrant didn’t think he’d be able to handle over half a dozen frisky junior Ministers at the same time.

When Tarrant turned back, Avon was speaking quietly and urgently to Plonius a little distance away, then he smiled as Plonius patted the hand, which currently held the Minister’s upper arm quite firmly.

As Plonius made his way past Tarrant he reached up and cupped his face as he said, “Ah, the young ones will be disappointed. But don’t worry, Avon has explained.”

He gave a Tarrant a truly wonderful smile and carried on, his retinue following on behind.

“What have you ‘explained’?” he asked when Avon caught up to him. “If we refuse to participate with the Thanksgiving, they’re going to be insulted,” Tarrant hissed.

Avon smirked, like a cat licking the last drop of cream off his whiskers. “I don’t think there is any need for concern. I’ve just told Plonius that we are in a settled relationship, then we get a private suite at the Temple, no-one is any the wiser and we manage to get a few hours sleep before we leave for Xenon base.”

“Just how did you find this out?”

“I asked Plonius, of course. It’s the young and single who get the communal bed, anyone in a relationship is allowed a private room.”

Tarrant flashed one of his toothy grins at the older man. “I was starting to get worried about the looks I was getting from some
of the younger members of the council.”

“For once it wasn’t your ego either. I received enquiries from at least five of them trying ascertain if your services were available.”

“I’m sure they’ll get over their disappointment,” Tarrant replied, still grinning.

The smile was wiped off his face very quickly when they entered the temple after the meal. Surrounding the temple on three sides were many roofless rooms, all sumptuously appointed and equipped with large beds, and all easily visible to the temple priests who watched the proceedings for their gods. In the middle of this town of beds lay a huge room, obviously the place where the communal sex took place.

Plonius, his genial face beaming, made his way over to where Avon and Tarrant were standing. Not noticing the shocked looks he said, “All set? There will be a brief ceremony first then onto the bathing chambers then an acolyte will lead you to your room. As honoured guests you will, of course, be placed near to the temple walls. We wouldn’t want you to feel insulted.”

“No, of course not,” Avon replied mechanically, trying desperately to quell his queasy stomach.

Tarrant looked curiously at Avon’s pasty complexion. “Avon, we’re going to have to go through with this!” Tarrant whispered,
his legs suddenly feeling unsteady.

Avon just turned and scowled at him, his look saying ‘I’d managed to work that one out myself’.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked sotto voce, ignoring the dirty look.

Avon nodded and swallowed hard, causing Tarrant to jump to the wrong conclusion. “Believe me Avon, you’re not my first choice for a bed partner either.”

When the other man said nothing, Tarrant continued, in an aggrieved tone, “I don’t believe I’m that repulsive.”

Avon glared at him, “I don’t remember indicating you were,” he growled as he turned away to pay attention to the prayers being offered as Thanksgiving for their successful negotiations.

'Great,' Tarrant thought, 'as if it wasn't enough we can irritate each other by simply breathing, now, we're going to have to whore together for the rebel alliance! Can today get any better, I wonder?'

Tarrant followed Avon's lead and pretended to listen to the prayers, his mind furiously busy with another problem, Avon's sudden attack of shyness.

Avon had admitted he wasn’t a virgin at this, whilst Tarrant preferred women, his same sex encounters had never been anything other than emotionally pleasant and physically, extremely enjoyable, so he couldn’t understand why his colleague was rapidly turning a paler shade of grey.

And trying desperately not to show it.

In a sudden moment of insight Tarrant thought he might have the answer.

A pool of silence surrounded the two men as they took their time about disrobing ahead of the customary bathing. Plonius’ council simply shucked their chitons and went through the door leading to the pools. Plonius turned and waved cheerfully at Avon and Tarrant then followed his lover.

It was now or never Tarrant thought to himself as he decided to go for the direct approach.

“Did it happen in prison?” he asked conversationally, but keeping alert just in case Avon took exception to his question.

“Did what happen?” Avon replied disinterestedly.

“The rape?” Tarrant asked as he skinned himself out of his thin jumper.

Avon stopped undressing and transferred the whole of his icy cold concentration onto the other man.

“It appeared fairly obvious from your reaction you’ve been abused and as you don’t have that reaction to women, it could only have been a man,” Tarrant continued.

After a moment the older man relaxed minutely, “Yes,” he replied shortly.

As he watched Tarrant’s economic and efficient removal of clothing Avon said, “I was under the impression you prefer women.”

“Oh, I do, but that’s no reason to refuse any other enjoyable encounter,” he finished on a grin, which made Avon feel distinctly uncomfortable.

Without waiting for Avon, Tarrant strode through the door and entered the baths. An attendant led him to a stone bench next to the warm pool to begin his ablutions. From here he could see most of the younger members of the council already in the cool pool and judging from the obviously excited state of one or two, raring and eager for their night in the temple precincts.

However, on a world where homosexual sex was expected and the greatest sacrifice one could give one’s gods was ecstatic sexual pleasure, they were considered to be in a state of religious fervour!

Tarrant smiled to himself, thinking it was a good thing Avon hadn’t emerged from the disrobing chamber yet. He could imagine the curl of those chiselled lips at the increasingly heavy by-play going on in the cool pool.

Plonius, seated nearby, broke off his conversation with his lover and smiled at Tarrant.

“The gods will be well pleased this evening,” he remarked, nodding towards the group of young men just leaving.

“Indeed,” Tarrant replied.

“Where is Avon?” the older man asked, looking beyond Tarrant.

“Oh, he’ll be along in a moment.”

“Is he quite well? I noticed he was rather pale during the dedication ceremony.”

“He’s quite well,” Tarrant stopped, not knowing quite how to explain this and knowing Plonius was still waiting for an explanation. “He was just a little surprised, that’s all.”

Plonius left eyebrow raised itself.

“We weren’t, um, expecting, erm, an audience. We usually reserve our intimacies for complete privacy.”

A spark of amusement lit the old man’s brown eyes as he said, “Avon doesn’t strike me as the shy type. However,” here he leaned over and patted Tarrant’s forearm before continuing, “You’ll just have to make it your job to ensure he enjoys himself so much he forgets anyone is watching.”

Tarrant flashed the full force of his disarming grin on him as he replied, “I’ll certainly do my best.”

Plonius smiled in genuine warmth as he followed in his lover’s wake, leaving Tarrant to his ablutions.

The bath attendant was a large silent man, dressed simply in a form of loin cloth. Little point in wearing a lot of clothes when you spent the whole day getting wet. The attendant poured generous amounts of warm water from a jug over the young man seated in front of him. Then he poured an astringent smelling liquid over his hair and proceeded to work it into lather.

Without rinsing his hair, the man picked up a square of cloth from the pile on a table beside them, soaked it with warm water and then poured liquid from another bottle onto it. This he used to scrub every inch of Tarrant’s skin briskly and thoroughly.

The bath attendant was both polite and professional, so Tarrant felt comfortable with him. Having never been bathed by
another man before, he found the experience unusual but not unpleasant, in fact it felt rather relaxing. As he was having the suds rinsed from his hair and skin, Tarrant realised Avon had emerged and was receiving similar treatment from another attendant and from the look on his face, he was finding it as soothing as Tarrant had.

Finally rinsed, dried and dressed in a simple chiton, a robed priest arrived, bowed low before them and led them along stone corridors to a wooden door. He opened the door and motioned them to enter. As he prepared to close the door he spoke a few words, which Avon assumed was a typical blessing, “May your pleasure please the gods.”

The priest bowed again and quietly shut the door.

An awkward silence reigned. To keep his mind off the night ahead, Avon examined the room. It looked like a top class hotel room. A couple of decent pictures decorated the walls, two chairs and a table occupied one corner of the room, whilst the bed with it’s expensive looking linen dominated the whole area. Tarrant walked forward to examine a selection of bottles on one of the bedside tables. The bottles contained scented oils, whilst the jars held sweet smelling creams.

“Looks like they’ve thought of everything,” he muttered.

“Except a ceiling,” Avon replied in his usual sardonic tones, going to investigate a door on the opposite wall. This proved to be a bathroom, thankfully, completely enclosed.

Looking up Tarrant could see the huge stone walls rising up to the temple platform above, whilst above that the domelike structure which enclosed everything securely from the elements curved down until his angle of sight was cut off by the top of the room wall. Perhaps not all the elements were kept outside. Tarrant was sure he could hear a gentle wind sighing through the structure, the sound washing over him in waves, in it’s own way as sensual as the bath had been. A deeper note cut through into his conscious hearing, a moan, gentle, full of rich promise…

Whoa, where had that thought come from?

Avon too was listening intently, his head cocked on one side. “Our fellow worshippers?”

It took a second for Tarrant to rearrange the sound into hundreds of voices sighing and moaning their pleasure to the greater glory of their gods.

He stood and stared at Avon. Somehow that sound made him feel woefully inadequate for the night ahead. He was desperately trying to decide if he should make the first move. Or should he leave it to Avon because he had traumatic memories to conquer? Or perhaps he should make the first move because his previous experience hadn’t held any terrors, and also because he wanted to act on Plonius’ advice, and make this as enjoyable as he could for Avon.

He couldn't even begin to imagine the trauma required to force a crack in Avon's habitual self-control. It must have been a truly horrific experience. For that alone Tarrant was determined that this exercise, which Avon obviously wasn't expecting to enjoy, should be made as respectful and as pain free as possible.

Whilst Tarrant was thinking about this Avon made the choice for him, in his typically direct fashion. He pulled the younger
man towards him in the parody of an embrace, holding Tarrant’s face between his hands and breathing his words rather than speaking, Avon’s dark eyes looking directly into his slightly startled blue ones.

“Let’s get a few things straight, Tarrant. Firstly, this will not change anything between us, secondly, we won’t discuss it afterwards, with anyone, and lastly…”

This was a totally unexpected and intense kiss. After the initial surprise Tarrant responded with pleased ardour and parted his lips, implicitly inviting Avon into the warmth of his mouth.

When they finally broke the kiss, Tarrant repeated, rather huskily, “Lastly?”

“We are being watched,” Avon replied, his voice sounding deeper than normal as his lips launched another assault.

Tarrant had no time to check the validity of Avon’s words, being absorbed completely in the fervour of the kiss. Avon’s total concentration could be felt in the brush of his lips and the taste of his tongue as it snaked and danced between Tarrant’s teeth. He couldn’t suppress a heartfelt moan as the tip of Avon’s tongue stroked against the roof of his mouth.

Sternly Tarrant tried to hold back the rising tide of mindless desire. At this rate he would be throwing Avon on the bed and ravishing him quickly and thoroughly, rather than trying to take things slowly and making this as enjoyable as he possibly could for the other man. Quickly Tarrant pulled his lips out of range, holding Avon’s hand’s in his own while he caught his breath.

“Steady on there Avon,” he gasped.

“Let’s get this over with,” Avon stated coldly, as he removed his hands from the other man’s grasp and stalked over to the bed.

‘You certainly know how to create a romantic mood’, Tarrant thought, following him.

Avon seated himself on the edge of the bed looking dangerous, and, admit it Tarrant, so very desirable. Danger adding spice to the encounter. He seated himself close enough so that their shoulders touched. He sensed a slight flinch from the older man, but he didn’t draw away.

Leaning down Tarrant brushed his lips across Avon’s temple, drawing a startled half exclamation from him.

“That isn’t strictly necessary, Tarrant,” Avon whispered unevenly, appearing to have forgotten he had started with the first kiss.

“It is for me,” Tarrant whispered back, “If we’re going to be convincing enough for this, I need some stimulation. Let’s face it..,” he paused while his lips busied themselves at Avon’s throat. Then continued whispering, every few words punctuated by a kiss. “They’ve had plenty of practice in watching these…activities. They’re going to know if we’re faking.”

He watched Avon’s face from under lowered lashes. “Relax”, he whispered into Avon’s mouth as his own lips claimed their prize.

He couldn’t claim that this breathed command caused Avon to fall into his arms and submit, but there was a slight lessening of tension. Or perhaps Avon had just decided to go along with him, a means to an end.

Whatever the reason, Tarrant was allowed free rein to follow whatever impulse he wished. As he assumed that this probably wouldn’t ever happen again, he was determined to make the most of his opportunity. He was also determined to demonstrate to Avon that homosexual sex wasn’t necessarily non-consensual, violent and painful.

His lips and hands moved calmly and sensuously over his colleague’s body, trying very hard to make this seductive and exciting but above all as gentle as he possibly could. Where his hands led his lips and tongue began to follow. He moved his mouth in dry, soft kisses over Avon’s face. A quick touch of his tongue at the corner of those perfect lips, then he kissed along the curve of his cheek back to his temple. Avon sat with his eyes closed and his hands still. Tarrant was fascinated by the shadows cast
by those improbably long eyelashes. As if he could feel the weight of his gaze, Avon opened his eyes. A glaze of sensuality overlay their normal unreadable dark depths. Tarrant could almost see his own reflection in those dark mirrors, his skin flushed with eager desire.

Abruptly Avon leaned forward and captured his mouth, his lips wrecking havoc with Tarrant’s self control. Inexorably the pressure against his lips increased, pushing him backwards, when he tried to resist Avon held his face between his hands but didn’t stop kissing him, or sliding that limber, clever tongue along his. Nips and sharp bites interspersed with hard kisses spread flames along his skin, tingling his nerves and sending his mind into sensory overload.

He stopped thinking coherently, stopped thinking with his mind at all. His body took over those functions, a body, which had been deprived of the pleasures of human touch for longer than he cared to remember.

Now he was experiencing a banquet in the midst of his famine and like a glutton he didn’t want to stop feasting on these exquisite sensations.

The pressure didn’t ease until Tarrant had been pressed backwards onto the bed, by which point his arms had wrapped themselves around Avon’s shoulders as if he were trying to sink into the other man’s skin. He knew he must be bruising his lips but he couldn’t stop himself, he had to have more and more of that inhumanly talented mouth.

Suddenly Avon released the pressure and pulled out of Tarrant’s grasp. Tarrant moaned in protest, his hands blindly seeking the source of his pleasure. He opened his eyes, not even aware he had closed them until that point, to find Avon, having skinned out of his chiton, gazing down at him, his hands resting on the quilt, one on either side of his head. His chest heaving with his quickened breathing didn’t detract from the expression on his face. The sultry look seemed to say ‘I’m not going to break, stop being so gentle.’

Tarrant focussed as much as he could, through his panting, and flashed one of his patented toothy grins, realising, prior to Avon’s ‘lesson’, he had been treating him a bit like a virgin at an orgy. A corner of Avon’s mouth quirked up when he saw
his impromptu lesson had been received.

Tarrant’s gaze travelled appreciatively down the length of Avon’s body noting that his teaching had been very well received by certain segments of both their bodies. He reached out to caress him there, spreading the few drops of precum in a lazy polishing motion over the glans with the ball of his thumb.

Avon smothered a gasp, and closed his eyes, the better to savour this touch, his skin starting to sheen with perspiration. That felt so good. Automatically his hips thrust into Tarrant’s hand, his own hand heading towards the other man’s erection. Some part of his mind was surprised when he encountered clothing in the way. He pushed the hem of Tarrant’s chiton up his long thighs until Tarrant got the message to remove the encumbrance.

As soon as he was naked, he latched onto Avon’s lips again, reversing the original manoeuvre and pushing Avon down to the
bed. He slid across Avon’s body inserting one of his legs between Avon’s, trapping their erections between their sweat slicked bodies. Tarrant moaned at the feeling of delicious friction against his sensitised cock.

Avon’s hips thrust against his body, sending his state of arousal off the scale. He indulged himself in the overwhelming sensations for a minute. This was really far too good to stop. He seriously considered staying where he was until they both came. Avon’s increasingly erratic movements and gasping groans telling him that scenario wouldn't be very long in happening.

Summoning every ounce of discipline, Tarrant pulled away and rolled onto this side. Avon’s eyes flashed open as he bared his teeth and almost snarled at Tarrant for removing his source of mind blowing stimulation.

To keep him occupied Tarrant dove in for another bruising, teeth clashing kiss.

Briefly he skimmed the palm of his hand over Avon’s silky shaft and was rewarded with a deep groan. He was so close, just a few seconds more.

Avon tried to take matters into his own hands, but found his wrists grabbed and held in a grip of iron. In order to distract Avon and to bring him down from his state of near orgasm he started to lick his throat with long, slow strokes. When he felt Avon’s heart rate decrease a little, he judged the immediate danger passed and made an ungainly grab for the nearest jar of ointment, keeping Avon pinned with his long body. Scooping out a handful he held it in his hand to warm slightly whilst applying his tongue and his teeth along Avon’s collar bone. Then he slid his hand between Avon’s legs and began applying the warmed gel to Avon’s perineum, slowly working the lubricant higher between his buttocks.

Avon became very still, a slight flicker of apprehension showing in his eyes as his erection began to flag.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was thinking. Using his ingenuity, Tarrant used the next handful to lave over his scrotum, carefully rolling his testicles in their sac. He sensuously massaged Avon’s thighs, working up over his hips, curving his hands around his buttocks, before returning to the starting point. He used slow, ever widening circles, almost but not quite touching his rapidly hardening shaft.

Tarrant leaned in to nuzzle Avon’s chest hair, he rubbed his cheek against his skin, feeling his heartbeat flutter. He flicked the tip of his tongue across Avon’s nipple, taking the hard little nub into his mouth, suckling and gently biting. Then felt Avon arch his back against his face and thread his hands into Tarrant’s hair, holding his head in position.

‘Ah, so you’re very sensitive here.’ Tarrant thought to himself, moving quickly between those hardened pink buds. He felt rather than heard a continuous vibration transmitted through his skin as Avon started to groan, becoming rapidly incoherent with frustration and desire.

Slowly Tarrant started kissing and licking amongst the dappling of hair, sliding his way down Avon’s body to lie between his legs. He continued to massage Avon’s firm abdomen, hips and buttocks, leaving his mouth free to lick and taste the other man
intimately.

A familiar yet exotically bitter, salty tang assailed his tongue. The taste of Avon was as unique as the man himself.

Intrigued Tarrant tongued him along the length of the weighty organ. He heard Avon hiss at the first touch and then groan and arch his back again, pushing up into that wonderful, warm, wet mouth, his hands digging into Tarrant’s shoulders.

‘Ah, no, not just yet.’ He wanted to hear Avon scream with pleasure, not just groan. Regretfully he let that delicious hardness slip from his mouth, but the couldn’t resist one last twirl of his tongue tip against the exposed glans, gleefully tasting the few droplets of precum.

Deftly he flipped Avon onto his stomach, straddling his legs just above the back of his knees and continuing the massage. He stroked from his shoulders, all the way down his back, over his neat, well shaped cheeks and down his thighs in long, hypnotic strokes. Applying more pressure over his hips, grinding Avon’s erection into the sheets as Avon was pushing himself against the bedding.

It seemed to Tarrant that neither he nor Avon had ever taken a normal breathe in their lives, each exhalation a sigh of dazed desire. Avon’s hands clenched and unclenched at each side of his head, the bed linen.

Slowly Tarrant began to confine his area of operations to Avon’s hips, running his fingertips over the curved hipbone, round and over his buttocks. Sometimes stopping to knead the muscle there, sometimes barely touching the skin. Gradually he
varied his strokes, moving his thumbs along the crease between, then changing places and letting his long fingers caress him gently sending a frisson of excitement through Avon’s body each time. He forced himself to concentrate on the other man, ignoring the ache of his own neglected body. He drew his fingertip across the tight opening, forcing a shudder from Avon’s over stimulated skin, then he slipped a well lubricated finger into Avon’s body.

Avon gasped, his hips thrusting back sharply against his hand and then forward into the bed. Tarrant moved his finger in and out, stretching the muscle, adding another finger then a third, making him ready. Then he turned his fingers and touched that special spot, his fingertips rolling over that tiny gland from the inside.

Liquid fire bloomed in Avon’s guts and spread glowing tendrils along all his limbs. He choked on a cry, his face a rictus of pleasure so great it was almost pain. His back arched and his head dropped as he came up to his hands and knees, his body desperately seeking release from such wonderful tormenting ecstasy. He thrust back hard, impaling himself on those tormenting fingers, not caring who was kneeling behind him, only wanting more and more of this delicious pleasuring.

Tarrant smiled dreamily through the streaks of sweat running down his face and body. ‘Yes, Avon, this is what you should be feeling’.

Tarrant loved this, the slow build-up, a long ascent into dizzying arousal and then the sudden explosion of mindless rapture and bliss. Quickly he covered his painful cock with ointment, his touch very light, knowing he could so easily push matters to a premature conclusion. Carefully he positioned himself against the opening to Avon’s body and let Avon push back against him,

Then, he held Avon’s hips still, not allowing Avon to push back too hard. He didn’t want this coupling spoiled by any hint of pain, only frustration at his oh so slow penetration. The feeling of Avon’s body opening around the head of Tarrant’s cock, like some rare and precious flower, was incredible. Inch by inch he pushed into that tight, hot channel until he was fully sheathed within the older man’s body.

Some part of Avon’s mind registered the sensation, odd and filling, absolutely nothing like the gut wrenching explosions of pain he had had to endure in prison when some of the other felons had used him, slamming into him unmercifully. Now he felt only rapturous pleasure, mindless joy racing on and on, then he couldn't think at all, only move in concert with the warm body which covered him and breathe in tune with the jerky breaths wuffing over his skin at the nape of his neck.

Tarrant felt Avon beginning to tense up and shudder, his movements erratic with his approaching release. Quickly he straightened up, his arms around Avon’s chest forcing him to come up to his knees too. Their height difference impaling Avon more firmly on Tarrant’s cock as he slammed into him. He slid the palm of one hand down to his abdomen to press Avon
more firmly against his thrusting hips while Avon hung onto his other arm, his short nails digging into his skin giving short harsh breaths as the air was forced from his lungs. Then Avon’s whole being tensed with the force of the orgasm, which seemed ripped from his soul. A hoarse scream rang from his throat and was hurled upwards, his offering to the gods. Warm seamen
bathed his belly, chest and both their arms, then he felt a warmth deep within his body as his powerful contractions pushed Tarrant over the edge to hurtle down into the warm ecstatic depths.

Avon collapsed forward onto the bed with Tarrant laying on his back and still inside him, his arms wrapped around Avon’s chest like a human quilt, his face buried in his soft, sweat dampened hair.

A long while later Tarrant recovered enough to roll slightly to one side, still keeping a protective arm across Avon’s back, before surrendering to sated sleep again.

Tarrant woke to find himself virtually nose to nose with Avon. The latter’s deep brown eyes showing their habitually controlled, cynically view of the Universe. Feeling mellow and at peace Tarrant leaned forward slightly to brush his still swollen lips over Avon’s. When he wasn’t thrown bodily across the room he got a little more daring and settled in for a long, gentle kiss. For his money he didn’t think he’d encountered a more satisfying kisser than Avon. He lost track of how long they lay there just kissing each other, hard kisses and soft kisses, long and short, every one holding the flavour of Avon.

Coming up for air for the last time he heard Avon’s rich tones, “Impetuous as ever, I see.”

His voice held no hint of anything out of the ordinary, but Tarrant could feel fine tremors where his hands touched Avon’s back. What miracles the simple pleasures of a touch could do, even to a man as controlled as Avon.

“Avon.”

Avon’s eyes focussed on him,

“Yes?”

“You talk too much.”

Before the other man could reply, he fastened onto Avon’s glorious lips with his own. Tarrant felt hot desire building once more when Avon’s lips parted and gently sucked his tongue into his mouth.

Tarrant started to get light-headed as he explored Avon's mouth as thoroughly as he could, in between Avon returning the compliment.Slowly and carefully he could feel Avon's hands caressing his body, moving on from one area to the next, all the while his lips and tongue keeping him too preoccupied to help or direct.

Tarrant felt as though Avon were making a mental map of his erogenous parts, then using that map to cause him as much erotic torment as possible.

When Avon moved to slide across on top of him, he only kept his last shred of coherence at great personal effort.

"For a young man, Tarrant, you demonstrate considerable sexual control," Avon whispered, in between running his tongue around the shell of Tarrant's ear. His only reply was an indistinct moan. Avon chuckled softly, reaching between their bodies to stroke Tarrant's rampant erection.

Within seconds of beginning this new assault Avon knew that Tarrant's pretty amazing control had deserted him completely. The younger man thrust desperately into the warm haven of his palm, his face knotted up into a frown of intense concentration, his skin becoming slick and shiny with their combined sweat.

Avon found Tarrant's complete abandonment to this pleasure to be quite touching, as well as quite a turn on. Tarrant grasped him in a grip of iron, his arms crushing Avon tightly to his chest quite oblivious to anything but continuing his ongoing quest for orgasm. His lips trying to capture and kiss any part of Avon he could reach. Avon stopped the pretence of control and surrendered to the sensual, leaning forward and kissing Tarrant with all the considerable skill at this disposal. Tarrant was good
looking and as passionate as anyone could wish, for now that was all Avon wanted.

Tarrant was nearly incoherent with need, pushing desperately into the hollow of Avon's hip. He felt his balls drawing up against his body, then he was coming, spasming and jerking hard against the body above his while his neck and chest arched up off the bed, all the while chanting Avon's name in a breathless whisper like a mantra.

The sound and feel of Tarrant's reaching out to him with such need pushed Avon past all hope of any kind of restraint, he spilt his seed across Tarrant's skin in three mindless, unbridled jabs of his hips. Then the darkness came to claim him, not the usual kind of worrying, frightening, 'how can I keep us all alive', dark, but a kind, calm, lulling of his senses dark which pushed him down into restful sleep.

Hours later Avon awoke finding he had promoted Tarrant to personal mattress. Obviously not a bad move as he had had the best night's sleep for a long time. Of course, he reflected wryly, that just might have something to do with the two sessions of satisfying sex in which he had indulged.

Cautiously he moved from his position on top of Tarrant. Even exhausted and unconscious Tarrant moved, sensing the change, quickly Avon reached out and stroked his cheek,

"Shh, it's alright, go back to sleep," he whispered.

Amazingly enough the pilot obeyed, just to be safe, Avon continued to stroke his face. Tarrant smiled happily in his sleep, turning his face into the caress. He looked so young lying on his back, with his arms palms upward on each side of him, his arrogance erased in the satiation of his desire.

Carefully, trying not to disturb his companion, Avon got up to go to the bathroom and get cleaned up. He turned back to look at Tarrant one last time, only to find a pair of sleepy eyes regarding him steadily from the bed.

"Go to sleep, Tarrant," Avon said quietly.

"Come back to bed, Avon," he murmured.

"In a few minutes, now sleep,"

The eyes drifted shut obediently.

Considerably longer than few minutes later, Avon returned to bed, washed and feeling more at peace than he had for a long time.

In the intervening time Tarrant had changed position and, like a cat, took up far more than his fair share of the bed.

Smiling Avon found himself a Tarrentless portion of the sleeping area and settled down for a couple of more hours of rest.

Their leave taking from the council members was brisk and businesslike, then they were space borne and on their way back to Xenon base to arrange a full meeting of all members of the rebel alliance.

“Soolin, Dayna and Vila can handle picking up Plonius and his delegates,” Tarrant commented, feeling a little empty at the thought their new level of understanding wouldn’t be allowed to continue either back at base or anywhere else for that matter.

His brief sortie into the sensual with Avon had been about the most erotic journey he had ever undertaken, for reasons he wasn’t sure he understood. He knew from Avon’s instructions to him at the start that it wouldn’t be repeated, therefore Avon’s reply caught Tarrant off guard for a second, “No, I don’t agree. Vila and Soolin would be better employed getting the base ready. We will return and escort Plonius to the conference, as they already know us, and we can then escort two other delegations on the same trip. A more economic use of available resources I think.”

“Economic…?” His head came up sharply to look at Avon’s expression. If he was laughing at him…

He stopped, the angry retort stillborn on his lips, drowning in twin pools of dark desire.

“Er, yes, definitely.”

He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to get some saliva into his suddenly dry mouth. A sharp tingle of lust sparked over his skin and centred on his groin. He wriggled on his seat to ease his abruptly constricting trousers.

“Most economical,” he agreed dropping his eyes to his control panel in order to hide his huge smile of anticipation.

He nearly leapt out of his skin when a hand drifted across his thigh and carefully kneaded the obvious bulge at his crotch.
“A-von”, he gasped, virtually coming on the spot.

“That’s what I like to see, enthusiastic agreement,” replied a low, husky voice, close to his ear.