Predator Prey - 27. At Play

The bunk was narrow, really far too narrow for two bodies, but he hardly minded. Especially as the two bodies in question were still pressed together quite closely; Scott and Graham. He was spooned up behind Graham, clad only in underwear. Through the fabric, he felt his own cock nestling in his lover's naked groove. His one hand grasped Graham's iron hard member, his other arm wrapped around Graham's chest holding him close. He paused, panting slightly, trying to prolong the pleasure for both of them, planting kisses on the brunette's neck and shoulder.

The past week had been unforgettable; a fantasy.

Each day seemed to draw the two men closer together, both physically and emotionally. They'd fallen into the pattern of heading to Graham's cabin right after supper, spending the hours until his midnight watch began with one another. That first night, after kissing in the sunset, he thought they'd retire down below, and maybe there would be a chance to taste Graham. Though they did make it to the researcher's cabin, it didn't happen that way.

Instead, both men were so exhausted that they'd toed off their sneakers and fallen onto the bed. They were asleep within moments. That first night together, they'd woken from a sound and peaceful sleep with five minutes to go before midnight, with him nestled into the taller man's chest. Graham holding Scott.

He remembered waking up with Graham like that the first night, recalling how contented he felt. He'd disliked waking up with the boys he'd bedded before, always feeling vaguely unclean and cross about what he'd done. And he hated the disentangling, the stupid empty conversation, and his bedmate's anxious departures afterwards. Even with Marc, he'd preferred to leave the bed as quickly and quietly as possible. Fortunately, Marc was often wasted enough that running a dirt bike across the bed wouldn't have made him stir.

With Graham, it had all been so different. They'd cuddled, traded pillow talk, kissed, made out a little – and slept. It seemed like something he'd finally gotten right. It seemed almost agonizing, taking physical attraction so slowly. He began to experience a new sort of connection with another man, one he'd not realized was possible. But as the week went on, he and Graham had gotten progressively less and less sleep.

"Oh, shit Scott,” Graham whispered into the quiet cabin, "that feels so good." The taller man reached an arm back, holding his head, fingers in his hair.

He felt Graham throbbing faintly in his hand. A few more strokes and it would be over. He pressed himself more firmly into Graham's cheeks. "Feels good to me, too, Gray." He kissed his lover's shoulder, teasing the skin where the neck and shoulders meet.

"I like it when you call me – ohh, mmm –"

He'd learned about that sensitive spot on Graham's anatomy the night before. He'd been exploring it off and on ever since. His thoughts were interrupted, though.

Graham arched back in pleasure, connecting them even more firmly, sending an irresistible spike of desire coursing through every nerve. He exhaled sharply, and his hand moved involuntarily on the hot, steely flesh in his hand. He ground back into Graham, mouth latching onto skin, a delicious electricity radiating outward from his groin, and in that instant, he lost control completely, engulfed by his release. Not a moment later, he realized he wasn’t the only one shuddering, as he felt Graham pulsing in his hand, spending himself on the twisted bedding.

They lay there, tangled, panting, happy. Graham and Scott.

Eventually, normal levels of consciousness returned. He realized he'd made a sticky mess of things, despite being confined inside his boxers.

"Holy shit, Gray," he said, his voice shaking still.

"Yeah. You said it," came the reply. Graham twisted his neck, lips searching for a kiss. He got it. "That was incredible."

"Incredible. Yeah. Perfect word for it," he agreed, eagerly looking for more of Graham's mouth. It had been exactly that. How could something this good happen to him?

Graham stirred. "Scott? I hate to say it, but I think I need to clean myself up," he said, finally releasing their awkward embrace.

"You ought to see your back. I came all over you. Sorry." He was startled to hear himself in that moment. When had he ever apologized to a boy in his bed? Never.

"I thought it felt kind of wet and sticky," Graham almost giggled.

"Can we use your shower?" It was a serious question, as fresh water use was a constant worry on board the Feigenbaum.

"Yeah, we should be good, as long as it's quick."

They squeezed together into the minute shower, stifling laughter and trying to keep their voices down. But they couldn’t help kissing again under the spray, or enjoying the slide of skin on skin as they embraced and tried to wash one another's backs.

"Turn around, Scott," Graham spoke softly into his ear, "let me do your front."

Without thinking, he turned, feeling Graham along the length of his back, Graham's soapy hand playing all along his chest and abdomen. He felt Graham's cock beginning to stir again. Not for the first time, he wondered what it would be like to bottom for the taller man. To give himself, willingly.

But it wouldn't happen then, no. Neither one of them had brought any kind of supplies for sex. They weren't exactly the sort of things the Feigenbaum kept in its stores, he knew. His exhaustive inventories could tell him that much.

"Come on, it's your turn," he said to Graham.

They actually did get a couple of hours' sleep before midnight.

Less than twenty-four hours later, while he was working his afternoon watch, Graham appeared at the galley area. It was relatively quiet at midafternoon.

"What's going on? You're never down here at this time of day," he smiled.

"Team meeting this afternoon. We're taking a break." The taller man grinned.

He couldn't help feeling elated. This was a bonus. "So you came downstairs."

"Yup." Graham nodded. He leaned onto the counter. "Needed my fix," the brunette said, eyes locked on his.

He looked briefly into the mess area, stepped over to Graham, and let their lips brush. "Just a little bit, huh?"

"No, I need more than that," and a hand guided their lips more firmly together for a lingering kiss. "That's better," Graham whispered when their lips parted again.

He smiled back.

The taller man straightened and took a mug from the ever present tray. He tested the coffee urn, but it seemed empty. "So, got any more coffee?"

"What, is that all I'm good for?" he teased.

"Not all, no."

He turned to grab another packet of coffee for the coffee maker, but he couldn't seem to find any. He must have used the last one.

"I'll just go get some from the stores," he told Graham.

He walked the few steps up the corridor and opened the storage compartment door. He stepped inside, not bothering the flip on the light. He examined the bins lining the wall.

Not more than a couple of moments later, he heard a soft footstep and felt Graham's arms slip around him. For just an instant, he froze, remembering what had happened in this very spot the previous voyage. He remembered the sharp blade ready to pierce him if he didn't cooperate.

But he also remembered Javier; he'd been rescued, saved from his own past. From himself. And this was Graham. Graham was safe. Still, he shuddered.

"So this is where you go. Is this your treasure cave?" Warm, whispered words feathered his ear. Words that spoke of something better than anything he'd ever known. Or deserved. He relaxed into Graham.

My treasure cave? You'd have to strip me to find that. And he realized he might just want Graham to do that. But not here, not now. He turned in his lover's arms. "No, we just bury the coffee here," he growled, using a bad pirate voice.

"Oh, aye, but there's other treasure here," Graham responded in kind, with a grin.

"Oh, and what treasure be that?" He stifled a laugh, because Graham's pirate voice was easily as bad as his own.

Graham's eyes narrowed, lips forming a smile. "Why, it be right here," he grated softly right before starting the kind of kiss one can only melt into. Graham was possibly the world's best kisser.

It deepened swiftly into a heated, passionate embrace. In another place, in what seemed another life, he'd have tried to control the encounter, to turn it to his own purpose, his own plan and pleasure. But now, as his hands found their way under Graham's tee, unable to get enough of his lover's sinews under his touch, he reveled in feeling Graham's wide hands searching beneath his waistband, grasping the mounds of his ass.

"Arr, matey, I believe I've found me pirate's booty," Graham tried to rasp out, breaking their kiss; but he spoiled it by starting to giggle at his own bad joke.

And he found that he couldn't resist Graham's laughter, any more than he could resist his smile, or his eyes, or his touch, or his kiss. He started laughing too. It was just a stupid joke, silly really, but at that moment, he thought it hilarious.

And of course, his laughter set Graham off, too. Soon the two of them were nearly roaring uncontrollably, tears in their eyes, their silliness feeding off each other.

"Hey! Wally! You back there?" A voice from the galley imposed a certain amount of sanity and order on the two of them. Cookie was back in the kitchen.

"Yeah, just getting coffee," he managed to respond, grinning at Graham.

The pair of them emerged a few moments later, Graham holding an extra handful of coffee sacks just to prove he'd been necessary. Cookie looked at the two young men oddly, but didn't comment on their flushed faces or disarranged hair.

"Thanks, Wally," Graham said deliberately before returning to his meeting, "see you later."

"Right. After supper."

He busied himself with meal preparation for a while. Eventually, he glanced up to see Cookie giving him a long, appraising stare.

"What?"

The older man looked away for a moment, schooling his face to neutrality. "Nothing…just…let's keep the scientific party out of the stores, all right?"

"Sure. Okay, Cookie, if you say so. I didn't know it was in the rulebook."

"Not everything is in the manual, Wally," the old man said, finally grinning. "Haven't I told you that?"

As time passed, he reflected that there was certainly no manual for what was happening to him. He'd admitted he was falling for Graham, and now he knew it had well and truly happened. When he and Graham were working, all he could think about was the brunette's quirky half-smile, his laugh, his lame jokes, his essential kindness; the way his brows knit together in concentration, the graceful curve of his neck, the sleek outline of his flank hidden by his geeky t-shirts. The time he had to spend without his boyfriend – boyfriend…never really had a boyfriend, have I? – seemed to stretch out like an endless barren tundra before him.

Yet at the same time, the thought of it rattled him a little. Sure, he'd pursued other men and boys before, but this wasn't pursuit. It wasn't merely desire. Something about Graham called out to him in a way he could hardly describe. And he could see Graham wanted more from him than he had ever offered anyone else – a part of himself, some of his precious control. When he allowed himself to think long about it, he wondered if he was worthy of Graham. In his deepest, darkest moments, he doubted it.

But he rarely had time for such thoughts or for such moments. The ship kept him busy enough. Besides, the time he spent with Graham – every minute either one could spare, it seemed – overshadowed all his misgivings.

If anyone had been watching, it would have been clear that the two men were becoming inseparable.

The next evening after his late afternoon shift and supper finished, he and Graham barely managed to get inside the cabin door before they were in each other's arms. It had been far too long since they'd last kissed. Hours, at least. Shirts were soon abandoned, and hands roamed now familiar territory on each other's torsos.

"Scott," he heard Graham breathe into his ear, "shit, Scott, I can't get enough of you." He didn't answer, even though he felt exactly the same. Graham's larger hands fumbled at his belt; he felt his pants fall, but he was too absorbed in trying kiss and taste Graham's mouth and jawline to take much note of it.

Soon, he found himself nipping at Graham's neck and shoulder, kissing and licking where skin ran over bone, slipping his lips to Graham's nipple and teasing with his tongue. His hands pushed down on Graham's beltline, sliding pants over hips, even as he traced the centerline of Graham's abdomen with his tongue, down, down, down. And then he was on his knees, facing Graham's hard, cut, generous cock. He grinned.

He grasped it gently at the base, and murmured, "Aye matey, I think I've got the treasure now." There was no laughter from above, just ragged breathing.

He heard Graham gasp when he slid his lover into his mouth. But his senses were soon overwhelmed with the taste, with the intense scent of Graham, the man's texture and pulse. He used his tongue to explore Graham's shaft from head the stem, to map out the sensitive terrain, to out what made him groan or sigh in pleasure.

He'd blown dozens of guys – hell, maybe hundreds – but none of them were like this. With Graham, it was as if the experience were entirely new.

When Graham's fingers played in his hair, he didn't shake his lover off. He'd absolutely hated that feeling before, but now, he welcomed it. When he heard Graham exhale sharply and felt the legs in front of him beginning to shake, he knew how good his lover was feeling. He gently guided Graham back to the bed, and the brunette lay back, panting.

He crawled up onto the narrow bunk between Graham's legs and again went about his task with renewed purpose. He slid his mouth over Graham, rising and plunging, taking him farther and farther into himself with each dive, teasing the head and tip at the top, trying to open his throat to hold as much of the shaft inside as he could. He snaked a digit up underneath Graham's ass, probing, searching for the heat of his lover's center.

Fingers threaded themselves into his hair again. "Ahhhh, Scott, fuuuuuuuck," he heard Graham hiss, as his man bucked involuntarily into his mouth. He smiled around his lover's rod, knowing Graham was helpless, at his mercy. He let go with one hand, and grasped Graham's leg - and then froze in an instant.

He realized what he had been about to do. In so many encounters, with so many of the new guys he wanted to break in, this had been the moment. He'd wait until he had complete control, either because the prey was wasted, too high to care, or simply quivering powerlessly with need. Then his helpless prey would be turned over; he would crawl higher, poised over the vulnerable form on the bed, his own steel sheathed and at the ready. And then he'd plunge in, taking what he wanted, changing another person's life, marking it irrevocably. He would have complete dominance, and would get anything he desired from the guy under him after that. It had never been about the other man.

He had Graham at his mercy now.

But he had changed, and he knew it. He wanted to give Graham the power, with the sole aim of giving him pleasure. He was going to disengage, to ask how Graham wanted it. He actually started to pull off of his lover, when the hands playing on his head gently pushed him back down.

He smiled, inwardly. This, he could do.

Despite his best efforts to prolong Graham's pleasure, it wasn't too much later that he felt the hips underneath him thrust upwards with a desperate urgency. The abdominal muscles under his splayed out hands tightened, and Graham uttered a strangled, muted cry; he came, spurting hotly into the back of his throat. He pulled back a little, catching the last of his lover's seed on his tongue.

Graham tasted salty, and kind of nutty.

He scooched up to find Graham's lips. They kissed, long, slow, and contented.

"Scott…that was…amazing," Graham panted.

Another kiss was the only answer he offered.

A moment later, Graham could speak more easily. "Give me a sec, and it will be your turn," he said softly.

"No need, lover," he replied, "you kind of got me excited, too."

And it was true. In the pleasure of getting Graham off, he'd shot into the sheets. He wondered idly if Graham would be able to do laundry. But not right then. For now, they'd snuggle up for a few hours before midnight, embraced, entwined, Scott and Graham. And happy, at least for now.