Decisions, Decisions

Disclaimer: All licencing and tradremark rights belong to Tribune Entertainment and MBR Productions. I do not own any of the characters of Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda, nor am I writing this for profit.


I was not planning to write a Rhade POV until I got the idea from some of my readers- thank you

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 2

Telemachus Rhade woke up in a bad mood and with a boner. He could not decide what was worse-starting his day stiff and aching, or waking in a wet spot. Either one was frustrating.

Growling, he headed to the shower. He figured he would 'solve his problem' without changing the sheets on his bed. He brooded that the relief wouldn't last long, as soon as he stepped onto the Command Deck and saw Beka, he would get hard again and threaten to burst his pants. Thankfully, leather was a durable material. Spending his shift surrounded by the small crew while sporting a major hard on was never a pleasant prospect. Dylan would pretend not to notice, Trance would pretend not to stare and Harper, that annoying little piece of shit, would smirk. Rhade considered Beka, he had no idea what sort of mood she would be in during this coming shift on Command. But, he knew, no matter how she acted, just being around the slim blonde would be torture.

He loved watching her even though her console was situated so he couldn't see her face. Rhade had to admit the view of her ass was a fine compensation. His sharp eyes always searched for a panty line and never discovered any. So, in his fantasies, Beka wore a thong under those tight pants. She would stand confidently, her feet braced and her legs so temptingly spread-just slightly- to madden him. Every time she shifted, her ass cheeks would flex and his hands would itch to explore her taunt flesh.

Rhade frowned as he stepped into the shower cubicle and adjusted the water temperature. The tension between them was getting worse. He actually preferred the 'Beka is a mega bitch' phase that had come before. He enjoyed their sharp banter and the way she would get all bristlely. Her intelligence, temper, willpower and courage were qualities he admired about her. As well as her great ass.

But now Beka was doing an ignoring and avoidance dance that worried him. Rhade was also getting pissed off. Her pretending nothing had changed between them, when now there was an awareness that charged the area around them.

And, her stubborn refusal to even glance his way except for sneak peeks was frustrating.

Fuck! All he had to do was inhale to know her interest!

Telemachus' hands spreading the soapy lather over his chest and arms slowed. He breathed in the steamy vapor as he remembered the richness of Beka Valentine's scent. Oh, how he wanted to wallow in it. Have it cover him so even when she wasn't near, he wouldn't feel alone.

Rhade absently rubbed the shower gel into the rippling muscles of his stomach as he smugly considered the thickness of her arousal he recalled smelling on several occasions. He wondered how wet Beka got as she stood ever so coolly on Command. If her panties soaked through and were he to step behind her and slip his hand between her thighs and cup her, would the crotch of her tauntingly tight pants be damp?

Groaning, Telemachus slid into on of his favorite fantasies as his hands moved lower. He spread his own legs so one hand could cup his sack as the other circled his cock. Stroking his erection slowly, he imagined the scene on the Command deck.

Telemachus would stride over to stand directly behind Beka. Before she would have whirled around to confront him, but considering her current behavior she would be more likely to just step forward away from him. At that moment, he would make his move. Quickly and decisively, he would crowd her forward into her console with his own body. Each of his hands would grasp her wrists and pin them to the front of her work panel. In his fantasy, she would never get the chance to slam an elbow back into his gut, causing to land on his ass and gasp like a blowfish. No, he would be controlling the situation with swiftness and skill.

Leaning even more forward, he would press his weight into her back. He would move his feet to the insides of hers so she couldn't close her legs against him. Rhade would bury his face into her hair and tell her "Beka, it ends and starts now."

Usually her reply would to compare his lineage to a drift rat's. Rhade would calmly ignore her as he told Hunt, "Captain, we would like the Command Deck."

Hunt would blandly agree and order the others to leave with him. Trance would be giggling and Harper would enviously look over his shoulder at them, maybe tripping and hurting himself. Instead of slapping him on the side of his head with a force lance, Dylan would be pulling along a curious Doyle who wanted to stay and watch.

Damn, considered Rhade, maybe Trance would want to stay and watch too. He would have to save that thought for a future fantasy as Beka distracted him. She was trying to free her hands. Even in a fantasy, Rhade wasn't sure how he could hold her in place and get her clothes off. His imagination couldn't stretch to picture her just giving in to what was growing between them and stripping for him.

Conveniently, sitting on the edge of her console, he would find a pair of gravity restraints had suddenly appeared for him.

Clipping them around Beka's wrists, he would secure them to the front of her console. Running his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, he would then wrap his arms around her middle. Drawing her firmly against his torso, he told her "Tell me you want this."

"Tell me you want me."

Beka's usual reply involved space slugs, Neanderthals, and other colorful descriptive. Rhade had been in the Maru with her when it was shot at or something broke down and had always been impressed by her vocabulary.

'Damn, the woman knew how to cuss.' Rhade reflected with admiration.

At this point in his fantasy, Rhade would slide his palms his palms up her flat belly to cup her breasts under her snug, probably black, shirt. His cock would be wedged against the seam of her ass and he would rub against her as they both moaned. Telemachus would pushed the material of her shirt up under her arms so he could explore her freely. Beka would arch against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Looking down as he kissed and nibbled along her neck and jaw, he would watch his hands. Caressing, kneading her soft flesh, Rhade would run his fingertips over her erect nipples. He would pluck them, pinch them lightly and roll them between his strong fingers. Watching the contrast of his dark hands on her much paler skin always drove him crazy in his daydream.

Standing under the pulsing heat of the water, Rhade reluctantly removed the hand that had been squeezing his balls. Sliding it upward, he played with his own nipples as he imagined Beka's breasts. He wondered what sort of noises she would make. Sometimes, she would moan or whimper, others she would still be softly swearing at him. He would drag his hands from the curves of her breasts to rest them on her ribs. He would allow them to both catch their breath before speaking.

"Tell me," he would command again.

"What?" a dazed Beka questioned.

"Tell me to continue, or tell me to let you go and leave." Telemachus replied.

Even foggy with passion, he knew Beka wouldn't blindly decide. She would still as she thought. And then, after a long pause (in Rhade's opinion) say "Yes. I want you. I want this."

An Alpha should feel victorious, Rhade only felt relief as excitement swept through him. With one hand, he would unfasten her pants and move away enough to let them fall as his other hand released himself. As much as he had studied her ass, he couldn't picture exactly how it would look. Rhade just knew it would be pale and perfect.

In the shower, Telemachus braced his hand against the wall as the hand circling and stroking his length moved to palm the head of his cock. Moaning, he imagined seeing the dark crown of his erection pushing into Beka's soft folds. Her thong had disappeared and she would use her restraints as an anchor to push back against him, causing him to sink deliciously deeper. Bracing her forearms against her console, and not pressing buttons that would accidentally blow up the ship, Beka would match his rhythm as he moved in and out of her. She would be wet, warm, and welcoming.

Thinking this, Telemachus began to fist himself again as he fantasized about fucking her. Deep and sure he would pump into her. One hand would slide between her body and the edge of her console so it wouldn't bruise her as the other burrowed between her thighs. He would rub her clit, causing her to tremble and tighten around him. In his fantasies, Beka was noisy. Damn, he hoped that was true. He imagined her calling out his name -maybe not Telemachus, but he was okay with Rhade- as she neared her orgasm. He knew he would be chanting her name into her hair, as with short, hard thrusts, he tried to dig deeper with his cock.

Beka's body tightening and clenching around him in release would trigger him to pound harder into her. With a groan, he would explode and with a few last strokes, to empty himself into Beka's warmth.

In the shower, Telemachus shuddered as streams of cum mingled with the falling water. Bracing both hands against the cubicle's wall, he slowly recovered. Rhade wistfully thought how nice it would be to do this still inside the vice of Beka's body with the knowledge that if he wanted to, and was able to, he reminded himself ruefully, he could start all over again. Rhade also recalled that in his fantasy, he had forgotten about Andromeda. With his lousy luck, she would be interrupting their post-climax cuddling with a cool question about her crew returning to the Command Deck.

Rhade gave a grunt as he realized he really wasn't imagining Andromeda's voice as she reminded him he had gone over his water allotment. With a grumble, he turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Already his day was going downhill, he considered sourly.

Rhade padded naked into his walk-in closet. he absently ran a small towel over his hair as he considered his clothing choices. He hadn't bothered to dry completely. If Andromeda had said he went over his shower time that meant he was running late. A few stray drops of moisture trailed down his body to pool in the thick carpet. He frowned as he mulled over what to wear. Telemachus didn't want to remind Beka of his slobby, smelly, self-pitying phase that he had recovered from. Thankfully he had packed more than uniforms when he had tracked down Anasazi's ass. He grudgingly admitted the other Nietzschean knew how to dress. In his hurry to depart, the former occupant of Telemachus' quarters had left behind some excellent clothing catalogs. Rhade barely had time to receive the stuff he had ordered before they all got blinked and stuck in this stupid, dead end galaxy.

"Look foreward." Rhade sternly reminded himself. He shook his head as he considered the two neat stacks of packing crates in each corner of his closet. One belonged to the room's first resident. Gaheris' belongings had neatly been packed by Anasazi, for whatever reason. Upon finding them, Telemachus had gone though his ancestor's things. After reading a personal journal, Telemachus realized how much the other Rhade had been torn between duty and loyality. And, in the the end, he had lost everything.

Looking at the other stack of Anasazi's things that Telemachus himself had packed, he puzzed as to why he had bothered. Maybe because the the other Nietzschean had shown such care of Gaheris' belongings. Tyr Anasazi too had lost everything. But he, Telemachus Rhade out of Majora by Rhade, was going to live his life to the fullest. Even if it was here, separated from the rest of everything. That life included Beka Valentine, she was just too stubborn to see it yet, Rhade thought as he laced on a pair of leather pants. Patience will be rewarded, Telemachus reminded himself, hopefully