Title: Archduke

Author: Vesper

Rating: NC17

Pairing: Tyr/Charlemagne Bolivar

Archive: Yup, if I sent it to you

Disclaimer: Eeep! I'm a pretty tough woman, but I think I'd need *lots* of spinach if I owned these guys.

Warning: There's kinda a battle to see who's going to be on the receiving end of the fucking. It's not non-con, but it certainly ain't romantic.

Note: Thanks to Minitrog for making me write it and Zion's Starfish and Luzmaria for beta reading it. Cheers girls!

Here's a little Tyr/Charlie B fic that I got nagged into writing. Well okay, *nagged* is inaccurate. someone sicced a plot bunny on me, which then split into two plot bunnies. Then someone else made an off-hand comment and then there were three ideas... and my head hurts.

Anyway, I now have enough story ideas too keep me going for weeks. Here's the first one. and no, that doesn't mean this one gets a sequel. Just don't even suggest it *g* right now I have a head full of bunnies and the last thing I need is for someone to say, 'but what if...'


By Vesper

Archduke Charlemagne Bolivar. The fop. How I wish I could hate him. He with his wife and his child and his huge fleet. But I canít hate him. I can hate that harpy he married; I can hate the pride that spawned him. I can hate all the prides that betrayed my family. I can hate so very well.

Why does he intrigue me so?

Was it the way he so obviously admired my body while being confident in the opinion that his mind was superior and that was what mattered most? Was it his lazy grace and wit? Was it the fact that he *knew* what only the Drago Kasov and Dylan know?

He is an intelligent man. He hides it well, but I think he may be able to out think even Dylan. That both stimulates and worries me. It was obvious that he only joined the new Commonwealth to get closer to the Progenitor. Dylan has shown again and again that he doesnít trust Nietzscheans; he trusts me though, as much as he can, and more than he should. Will he come to trust Bolivar? Will the day come when Dylan places his survival on something that shifts into betrayal?

And if that happens, which side will I choose?

So I stand at Archduke Charlemagne Bolivarís door and wonder which of my myriad plans will fit the scene once I enter. I have an idea this meeting will be guided by the devious man within; I plan on holding my own but no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy. The door slides open and he grins at me, that slightly smug grin that makes you want to wipe it off with your fistÖ or kiss it off, roughly and possessively.

"Kodiak," he drawls, "What brings you to my door?"

"Youíve signed up with Huntís Commonwealth." I step into his room without invitation.

"So I have. Tell meÖ how does it feel to be connected to a pride again?" He steps back and we move further from the door

His words make me hesitate; I hadnít thought of it that way before. Iím in his company for barely a minute and already he has me off-balance. "Kodiak Pride has never officially joined the Commonwealth."

Bolivarís laughter fills the room. "You *are* Kodiak Pride. Every Nietzschean in known space is aware that you signed on to Huntís noble quest when it was just a madmanís dream." I can feel him moving closer, into my personal space as we circle each other. "Donít you know how that legitimised him in the eyes of the prides? Particularly now."

"Particularly now?" Heís right in front of me now, eyeing me up and down like Iím his to play with.

He moves his mouth to my ear and whispers, "The Progenitor."

My arm snakes out and I have him trapped in my grasp. "Iíve never pretended to have the Progenitor."

Bolivar grins again, his eyes dark and his skin flushed. "But youíve never denied it either." Suddenly this closeness is too much for me and I throw him away from me. He lands cat-like on the bed and sinks down, decadent and sensual. "So why did you come here?"

"To warn you."

He sighs, "How tedious. Iíve already had the lecture from your Captain Valentine. Impressive woman, strap a set of bone blades on her and sheíd be quite fuckable."

My turn to laugh. "I didnít come here to warn you about possible retribution if you ever betray the Commonwealth. I came here to warn you that betraying Hunt would not benefit you. He has already made fools out of every Nietzschean who has tried to cross him. You may have been bred for treachery, but I assure you, youíve met your match in Dylan Hunt."

"Have you ever tried to cross him?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you did. I think that he made a fool out of you, perhaps more than once. Thatís why you follow him."

How did I come to be leaning over him like this? Iím sure he can read my face. Everything he has said is true. Arrogance is a Nietzschean trait, but his smugness annoys me. Iím angry and I want to hurt him; he can see the emotions I keep hidden boiling to the surface. I see the desire on his face as he looks at me. Does he want this? Does he want me to lose control? Never taking my eyes from his I lean down and bite his chin.

The moment stretches out until finally he lifts one hand and unbinds my hair. That action sets something loose in both of us and we bite and scratch and tear at each otherís clothing. Heís flexible and quick, but I have strength and anger on my side. The fight was fun, but now heís pinned under me, his blood in my mouth and his body submissive under mine.

For all his affectations heís still one of the most powerful alphas in Nietzschean space. To have him under me, to dominate him is a powerful aphrodisiac. He could have stopped this at any time, instead I feel the fight going out of him and his body relax into the bed. My grip doesnít loosen: Iím not foolish to think he wonít take any advantage to turn the tables.

I can smell his arousal as I run one hand down his spine and slide it down between his sweat-slicked cheeks. His body twitches as I press inside with two fingers.

"Yeeees." His moans are muffled by the dark silk sheets on his bed, theyíre too slippery for rough lovemaking, but theyíll have to do. I only use my own leaking juices and saliva to ease the way in. I know Iím hurting him and it feels good; I graze my teeth over his shoulders, sinking my teeth in as my cock forces its way deeper.

Why is he letting me do this? Does he think that by submitting to me Iíll let him any closer to the Progenitor than he is already? Itís hard to think when heís so tight around me. I lose myself in that heat, riding him long and hard.

The sudden sharp smell of his climax comes as a surprise to me. I certainly did nothing to stimulate him. Iíve been concerned with my pleasure alone. I can feel him tightening around me in waves and I canít help but follow him over the edge.

Itís intense. Iíve never fucked another alpha, certainly not one this powerful. Itís more than a physical climax. Itís an orgasm of the soul. And itís over far too quickly.

I pull out roughly but itís I who feel empty. Archduke Charlemagne Bolivar rolls over and slides up the bed to pick out a sugared almond from a bowl by the bed. Sliding it across his lips and tongue he smiles at me. He still has his wife and his child and the third largest fleet in known space. And what do I have? I have shit on my cock and the realisation that Iíve been tested here. And I donít know if Iíve passed or failed.

I think I could hate him after all.

The End

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