Shieldbrothers: The Bonding

BY : Lursa_and_BeTor
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
Dragon prints: 7261
Disclaimer: I do not own Andromeda, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter Four: Mystery Wrapped in an Enigma

Mariyam stands by the window looking down at the planet twirling in the blackness. The children were all settled in their quarters and comfortable enough to go visit their friends. It was an encouraging sign that the kids felt at ease enough to scamper off and socialize after the day that they had had. Now she is alone with Wallace once again. She smiles at Wallace over her shoulder as he walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her. Mariyam sighs and leans back into his embrace as he tightens his arms around her. She nuzzles his shoulder, the plush velvet soft against her cheek.

{The meeting with Hunt went well.} Wallace's thought is amused.

{Do you think he suspects anything?}

{It was unfortunate that the Andromeda answered our distress call. I wish it had been someone else. No, I don't think Hunt is suspicious.}

{We will be fine. We knew he was serving on this ship.} Mariyam sighs again. Perhaps it was for the best. It would give her eldest sons' opportunities to explore their cultural heritage in an environment where she had some control.

{Yes. We just assumed we’d never cross paths. The Divine has a fickle sense of humor.}

Mariyam stares pensively at the planet. Everything seemed deceptively far away and peaceful from this perspective. {Are you okay with our remaining on board? We could return to the surface and take our chances with the Nietzscheans.}

{NO! As much as I don't want you near Anasazi…I will not have you in harms way.}

{I know you're planning to go back. I don't want you hurt. A truce may not be possible. Perhaps we should have handled this Pride the way we did with the others.}

{We don't want to draw undue attention to the colony.}

Mariyam frowns. She fears that they already have drawn attention. Otherwise, why else are the Nietzscheans coming? There are only so much coincidence that anyone with any intelligence is going to buy and the Nietzscheans mindset is one of suspicion so they were even less inclined to buy accident and coincidence as explanations. {I know. I don’t want you to go back down there. This group of Nietzscheans is dangerous.}

{I have to try. This is our place…our legacy to the children. Speaking of which…}

{The children reacted exactly as we expected. I hope they will be alright.}

{Seeing him is an…unfortunate…surprise. They are confused and angry. They’re going to have many questions.}

{Yes.} She really does not want to have to listen to all that again. After dealing with Tyr and then, the Divine help her, with Wallace and Tyr, she feels like a tightrope walker at the fair. Then, there are the other secrets to add to the mix.

{What shall we tell them?}

{I don't know. A portion of the truth? Whatever it is we should include Tyr.}

{What! I know how much you loved him, but I don’t think he needs to have any input into this. He's hurt you enough!} The burn of Wallace’s jealousy seeps into his thought.

{We have to include him.} Mariyam's full lips flatten with annoyance at Wallace's one-note song. She knows that he doesn't like Tyr. By now, everyone had grasped that Wallace didn't like Tyr and that's fine. He doesn’t have to like Tyr -- if fact, it's better for her plans if Wallace doesn't. And it isn't as if she is asking Wallace to spend time with Tyr. All she needs is that for Bell and Chi's sake Wallace be willing to tolerate Tyr. It's no more than she is demanding of herself.

{No. We don't. He can do more harm than good.}

{If we intend to salvage something out of this mess…we must.} Mariyam forces her impatience out of the thought.

{Why, for the Divine’s sake!?} Wallace whines.

{They know about him now. Anything we tell them must be consistent across the board, don't you agree?} Mariyam closes her eyes. Her back is tight with exasperation.

{I think it’s a mistake.}

{Please…I'm so worried about the children, Wallace. We've tried to protect them from finding out the truth all these years…I don't want them hurt.}

{We should just tell them the whole truth, sit back and let them rip him limb from limb.}

{How do you really feel?} Mariyam injects her thought with wry amusement.

{I hate him for what he did to you, my love…but that's not important. I've seen the way he looks at you. I don't like it. We never predicted that they would actually meet him. What are the odds…a billion to one?}

Mariyam snorts. Tyr is repelled by her if anything. Every since he found out about her talent and so what if she had picked up an interesting tidbit from his thoughts and dreams. If she hadn't slipped up and mentioned Medea -- ah, well, that was in the past now. {Wallace…Tyr was my husband and their fath…}

{You are no longer his! You are MINE!} Wallace tightens his arms around her.

{Yes, darling Wallace, you are correct.. I am your's as you are mine. I love you now and always. It’s just that…} Clearly it was time for a distraction. The Divine knew, she could use some distracting herself. Mariyam twists in a slow, sensual manner to face Wallace. She can close her eyes and imagine that he is that yummy looking Captian.

{What? Do you still…desire him, want him?} Wallace stares down at her.

Mariyam rises on tiptoe and kisses his lips. She wraps her arms around him and holds on tightly. Men! She is getting so tired of dancing around this issue. She has done everything she knows to reassure Wallace and still he is obsessed with this ridiculous idea that she desires a man who tried to have her killed. {No, my love. I do not want him. I don't desire him. I desire you. I want you…only you.} She rubs her breasts against his chest. Her hips press enticingly against his.

{Insatiable woman!} Wallace chuckles warmly.

{Only you satisfy me. Your's is the name on my lips and in my heart when the universe shatters to starry fragments inside me.} She slides her hands up and down his back. Her fingers slide under the edges of his velvet jacket.

Wallace promises {I love you with all that I am!}

{And I, you. Have you seen the bed?} She allows a hint of playfulness to tinge her thought. {It's as big as our whole room at home. The children are occupied…it has been some time since we lay as one…and took our pleasure.}

{Behave woman! I know what's really on your mind.} Wallace smiles happily at her and kneads her hips. {And that is NOT it. You’re trying to distract me.}

{Is it working?} Mariyam kisses him.

{Oh, yes!}

{Oh, my love, what are we going to do?} She slips her hand inside his shirt and over his wooly chest.

{Ahhhhhh…Mari! First...We're going to enjoy some time alone in that big bed you were telling me about.} Wallace unwraps her sari and pull her top off, dropping it on the floor. He lowers his head to suckle her breast causing her to whimper with need. {We’re going to pleasure each other and put the worries of the universe aside for a while. Then…}

{Yes?}

{I'll have to go back to the planet.}

{NO!}

{Shhhhhhh, my love} Wallace picks her up and carries her into the bedroom. "Ship?"

"Yes, Headman St. Clair?" Andromeda's voice asks.

"Please lock our bedroom entrance."

"Privacy mode engaged," Andromeda responds

Wallace kneels over his wife's body. {Now…Open for me, my love. I want to look at you on this sumptuous bed… spread open and wet for me. My pleasure will be greater knowing that you are mine. I want your scent all over my body when next I see Anasazi. I want him to know the treasure he cast aside.}

{Wicked man.} Mariyam chuckles as she opens her arms to him.


****

He's waited as long as he's going to. Harper walks down the corridor with determined strides. If he continues tamely waiting for Tyr to voluntarily offer an explanation, he might well be waiting until the end of time. The meeting with Dylan and the Headman ended hours ago and the kids – Tyr's kids – are roaming about all over the ship, probably hoping to "accidentally" run into Tyr. Harper runs a hand through his hair, tugging on his spikes as he considers. Okay, Tyr isn't in his quarters, so the gym is the next best bet and if Tyr isn't there…well, damn it, he'll just ask Andromeda, and let the ship make what it would of his interest in Tyr's location. He doesn't care if Andromeda knows that he and Tyr are...are...well, he isn't sure what they are exactly, but he doesn't care if the ship or Rommie knows. And if it annoys Tyr, well, too damn bad. Right now, he is beyond caring if Tyr is annoyed.

Harper pauses outside the door to the gym and glances up and down the corridor. It's empty. Apparently their new guests hadn't discovered it yet. Harper walks into the gym and freezes, muscles tighten low on his stomach as he looks at Tyr. The Nietzschean is bare to the waist. The wide, muscled chest shimmers under a fine sheen of sweat; the dusky circles of his nipples gleam enticingly. Tight black leggings faithfully mold every line of Tyr's lower body. Harper swallows hard and locks the door behind him. He eases quietly into the room and sits down, his attention completely focused on the slow, tension filled moves as Tyr moves through the kata. His breathing quickens. He loves to watch while Tyr is doing any katas, but this one…this one is particularly…interesting to watch. Harper bites his lower lip as he stares, closely following every move. Tyr is almost at the end of the sequence. Each move is done very slowly, but with a strong, hard tension that gives a deadly edge to each technique. Tyr's gaze is almost dreamily blank as his amber eyes focus on where his opponent would have stood. His muscles coil until the slow building tension makes them stand out in sharp relief under the rich chocolate gleam of his skin, before uncoiling with measured degrees of relaxation. His long hair is tied back with a black leather cord.

Harper licks his lips as Tyr straightens from the last move and walks toward him. When did this happen to him? He's never been interested in a man in his life, but lately he's responding to Tyr in ways that he only used to respond to women. It's confusing. Like suddenly waking up one morning speaking an alien language. He's used to flirting with women, but with Tyr -- he doesn't know the words and he doesn't know the right moves. All he knows is that he needs, but does Tyr share that need? What little infromation he'd found on shieldbrothers had been maddeninly vague. Harper scoops a small white towel off the chair next to him and holds it out in offering as the Neitzschean approaches him. He cranes his neck back to look up as Tyr keeps moving foward until the Nietzschean is standing between his spread thighs. Harper shifts uneasily on his chair at the sudden and blatant invasion of his personal space as he stares up into the hot amber eyes.

"What do you want, Little Professor?" Tyr reaches up and unties the cord, freeing his long hair to spill over his shoulders. He takes the towel and presses it to his face.

Harper takes a deep breath, his tension easing as he breathes in Tyr's scent. He has never been able define or describe the way Tyr smells -- only that the scent holds the promise of everything good. It makes him feel as if he has finally found a warm, safe place -- a haven, a home. He had first consciously noticed the way Tyr smelled when they were trapped and surrounded by the Magog. Some primal part of him had focused on Tyr's scent and it had kept him sane. His gaze flows over the powerful contours of the Nietzschean's chest, lingering on the dark nipples before dropping to the ridged muscles of Tyr's stomach. He wants to press his face against Tyr's bare stomach and nuzzle the smooth skin. He wants to taste the dark chocolate nipples.

"Little Professor?" Tyr lowers the towel from his face. His sensual lips curve into a knowing smile.

What is going on here? He suddenly feels as if Tyr can see every erotic dream that he's had about the Nietzschean this past week. Harper blushes and forces himself to look away from the sensual lushness of that mouth and the teasing invitation smoldering in those beautiful eyes. Okay, his brain is mush now. Think. Think. Think. Okay. He'd come in here for a reason and it was...? So what if he'd enjoyed the show, but if Tyr thinks that adding this new sensual overtone to their conversation will keep him from pushing for answers the Nietzschean could think again. Yeah. That's probably all this is -- nothing personal -- just Tyr trying to distract him from awkward questions. The shieldbrothers thing -- that's like friends, right? Or is it? That one question had been keeping him up nights lately. But wait -- wait -- Tyr coulda selected another method of distraction, and if it's just a friends thing wouldn't Tyr have used something else? The ramifications of that idea are dazzlingly distracting. Oh, damn, his brain is melting. He can feel it going offline as he watches Tyr's smile deepen. Okay. He can handle this. He has a first class brain. He can handle feeling like this and thinking too. Really. He had a question -- he came in here with a question -- and it was -- oh, shit, he can't remember the question. Definately a bad sign. "I want you to talk to me."

"I am talking to you," Tyr murmurs throatily.

That voice is so not helping his condition. There's no way to conceal the swell of cock -- not with his thighs spread wide, drawing the fabric of his cargo pants tight. Harper squirms in his chair, feeling exposed under the slow, measuring stare of those amber eyes. Okay, when in doubt, attack. "You know what I want, Tyr. You haven't talked to me since your family…excuse me…ex-family arrived on the Maru. I'm tired of the silent treatment. I want you to talk to me, dammit! I want to know how you have two teenagers and no one knew about them?"

"I didn't know about them." Tyr inches closer, forcing the human's thighs further apart.

Harper presses back against his chair, as far away from the temptation of all that bare skin as he can get. He isn't going to lose control of this conversation no matter how overwhelming Tyr is at close range. He delibrately drops his gaze to the Nietzschean's bare forearms; the sight of stirring bone blades are like a bucket of ice water over his head, suddenly he can think clearly. "But you never mentioned Mariyam, Tyr. Never. Not ever. Not even to me. We've shared some of the most profound events in our lives. Our lives depended on each other more than once. You talk about the betrayal of your pride all the time, but you've never, ever mentioned a WIFE! How do you forget a wife??"

Tyr shrugs. He eyes Harper with a faint frown. "I didn't forget her."

"But why did you never talk about her?"

"I…" Tyr inhales, trying to sort out the abrupt change in Harper's scent. He tilts his heads in puzzlement, sending his long braids sliding softly over the heavy muscles of his bare shoulders.

"Spit it out, Tyr…you're still in love with her aren't you?" Harper asks softly, dropping his gaze to the floor. Looking directly at the bone blades was a mistake. Now the image of those deadly points is burned into his mind, bringing back bad memories. He can almost see another pair of arms, holding him down -- the bone blades damp with his blood, raking carelessly across his chest as...Harper flinches away. Suddenly the way Tyr’s muscled, black-clad legs are pressing his own legs apart is threatening rather than sexy. He turns his head sharply away to stare down the other side of the gym.

"I abandoned her." Tyr gently turns Harper's face back toward him. He studies the too pale face with concern. What's wrong? What triggered the change in Harper's scent? There's nothing here for the human to fear.

"I don't understand."

Tyr trails a fingertip over the line of Harper's cheekbone. The human's skin is so deliciously cool to his touch. "I left her to die at the hands of the Dragans because I wanted to be free to marry."

"Intentionally?" Harper asks in troubled tones, his blue eyes clouding with confusion.

"Yes." Tyr slides his fingers toward the temptation of the human's mouth.

Still uneasy with the Nietzschean's closeness, Harper turns away from the caress. "Wai…wai…Wait a minute, that doesn't make any sense…you…you guys can have dozens of wives. You don't need for one to die first. What do you mean you 'left her to die'?"

"I knew the Drago-Kasov were close and I could have protected her, but I didn't. I abandoned her." Tyr allows his hand to fall away from Harper's face. He closes both hands over the soft, white towel. There is a trace of hurt in his eyes as he looks at Harper. Why is the human rejecting his touch? Is it because of what happened with Mariyam? If so, then he has to make Harper understand. "I could have kept Mariyam as my concubine. This is an acceptable Nietzschean practice in some prides. I could have chosen to keep her as my human lover. She should never have been my wife."

"Then, why did you marry her?" Harper stirs uneasily on the his chair, trying to ignore the feel of Tyr's strong legs between his own and the way the position is makinm fem feel increasingly vulnerable. He can feel the bad memories stirring in the back of his mind. He pushes the scary jumble of images back. He is not going to remember that. He refuses to remember it.

"I don't know. I was young…I'd just survived not only the betrayal and death of Kodiak Pride, but the mines, and my time as a slave as well. I met Mariyam and she cared for me and helped me. I suppose I was grateful at first. I owed her. She saved my life."

"So you repay her by, what…running out on her?" Harper stares up at the tall Nietzschean looming over him, trying to see his friend again and not a potential threat.

"Harper! She's a human. I can only procreate with a purebred Nietzschean female, you know that." Tyr grips his towel and frowns down at his shieldbrother.

"I thought I did. But she didn't just have one kid, Tyr. She had two. Oh, right…twins…so you, what? Only did it once?"

"Harper…" Tyr's smoky voice is pure, plush velvet enticement.

Harper tightens his jaw, determined to resist the allure of that voice. "What? You only had sex with your wife once, is that it?"

"We had a fulfilling marital relationship." Tyr tilts his head. The human’s jealousy is a good sign. A sign that his shield brother is ready for more. His gaze drops to the rigid line of the human's cock pressing against the taut fabric. He licks his lips in anticipation. Much more.

"Can't have been too 'fulfilling'. I mean you did leave her, evidently, while she with was pregnant your children. Don't you regret not having watched them grow up?"

Tyr stands silent for a moment. "I didn't think I regretted anything in my life. But looking at them…well, a part of me does regret that I missed those years."

"They are really something though…you should be proud of them."

"I know. I want to be. I don't know anything about them."

"It's not too late is it?" Harper encourages quietly. He's willing to accept the kids -- he doesn't mind having them running around the ship. Their presence kinda livens things up, but Mariyam, however, is another story. No dice on that one. She may be the mother of Tyr's kids, but he doesn't trust her with a tin thron. She's way too much like Satrina. "To get to know them, I mean."

Tyr shakes his head. "It may be. There's a lot of pain on both sides."

"Do you want to talk? About them or her?" Harper asks. He wants to prolong this unexpected peek into Tyr's past even if some of it is painful to hear. "When did you meet her?"

"I was just out of the mines and had survived the desert. I had been a slave and was just getting a taste of freedom when I met this beautiful human girl with long braids, a sweet smile and a sharp mind. There was so much more to her than I ever imagined."

"Did she know what you were?"

"Yes. Even then she was fearless. She had met Nietzscheans and knew of my heritage. She even knew I was Kodiak."

"Love, or lust, at first sight, huh?" Harper frowns. He doesn't like hearing this even though he had asked for it. He did not like imagining Tyr with Mariyam. He didn't like it at all.

"Crudely put, Harper…" Tyr deepens his voice to a soft, throaty growl as he watches his shieldbrother. His eyes half close with pleasure as he sweeps a slow glance over Harper. The human looks so -- delicious. He wants to lick the line of Harper's throat. He wants to taste as well as smell the the desire spicing Harper's scent. How will that pale skin feel against lips? How will it taste against his tongue? What will desire taste like on Harper? He wants to know. He needs to know -- but there is a troubling note of fear lingering in the human's scent. Why? Is it because he is male? Because he is a Nietzschean?

"But true."

"Yessss." Tyr draws the word out as he presses the soft towel to his bare chest and then to his abdomen. His full lips curve into a smile as he watches Harper trying and failing to look away from the path that the towel is taking. He can almost feel that hot gaze on his skin and soon -- soon -- he will have Harper's mouth and hands on his skin. His growl is soft with pleasure as he watches Harper's vivid blue eyes; seeing the sharp intelligence in his shieldbrother's gaze go soft and unfocused as the human stares at his body. It's time. His shieldbrother is not going to leave this gym unclaimed this time. And if by any chance, Harper should be around the Prides threatening this area, he wants it clear that the human is his; that any attempts to flirt with or harm Harper will be challenged.

"So why did you really leave, Tyr? Because she's a kludge and therefore damaged goods?"

Tyr slowly moves the towel lower to where his skin vanishes into the tight, black leggings. Harper's eyes automatically follow the movement and then focus helplessly on the bulge below the towel's edge. Tyr smile deepens at the sound of Harper's stifled gasp. He chose Harper, because he admired the human's sharp intellect and devious ways. He admired the human's courage. Those traits paired with Harper's responsiveness to him are deeply exciting. Tyr moves closer, further into Harper's personal space. They've spent enough time discussing Mariyam. It's time to complete his bond with his shieldbrother. He had locked the gym door to all but Harper before the human had arrived. He'd knew that Harper would follow him and find him. "A Nietzschean must spread his genes. I had to procreate. I knew I needed a purebred Nietzschean woman to do so."

"What?! You left so you could get it on with some purebred Uber chick? What is UP with that??"

"I don't expect you to understand." Tyr can feel his bone blades quivering with the urge to extend, but he forces them to stay down. He wants nothing to spook Harper. He has been preparing Harper for this moment for some time – occasional touches that gradually turned into lingering touches. Sitting closer and closer to Harper. Spending more and more time with the human. Harper is so responsive that it'd been most difficult to hold himself back to the slower pace that he sensed that Harper needed. This anger that Harper is showing over Mariyam is an excellent sign.

"What's to understand? You claim to be all about procreating and survival, right?" Harper looks up, keeping his eyes firmly on Tyr's dark face. He is not going to be distracted. Part of him is glad that Tyr is no longer interested in Mariyam, but the other part is wondering if Tyr's treatment of Mariyam might not be a disturbing pattern of using and abandoning human lovers rather than an anomaly.

Tyr folds the small towel and drops it back in the neighboring chair. "That is correct."

"So explain to me how you can leave this beautiful woman and not ever think of her again? How did you do that to your wife, Tyr?" Harper demands.

"She's not my wife…not anymore. Not since the day I severed ties with her."

"That's harsh even for you, Tyr. 'Severed ties with her'? What does that mean?" Harper drops his gaze. Maybe it's just as well that he hasn't tried to act on any of the fantasies simmering in his head. "Is that what's gonna happen to me when you decide to move on?"

"No. No!" Tyr drops down with startling speed. His hands hit the wall with a thump, bracketing Harper's head. He leans close, his eyes fierce and intent. "We're different."

"How?" Harper flinches back against the chair. He can feel his heartbeat spike sharply upward with Tyr's sudden movement. Nietzscheans are so damned big, fast and temperamental. But he has to know even if if the question makes Tyr angryrperrper stares at the dark face that is so close to his own, trying to read Tyr's emotions. His own emotions switch wildly back and forth between fear and arousal as images from the past that try to rise up in his mind. He is not going to think about that. Not. Not. Harper breathes in deeply, concentrating on Tyr's scent and the way that it steadies him, making him feel safe. He breathes in deliberately, deeply.

"We are shieldbrothers." Tyr drops his hands to Harper's shoulders, kneading the stiff muscles soothingly. He slides his hands down Harper's arms. There is nothing, but the thin layer of gray tee shirt seperating his hands from the human's bare skin. Tyr closes his hands around Harper's wrists and presses the human's cool hands against his bare stomach. His muscle ripple in response to the feel of his shieldbrother's hands on him. He growls softly, leaning into the touch.

"Oh!" Harper gasps as his fingers spread against the Nietzschean's smooth skin. His eyes widen in wonder at the damp velvet heat under his palms -- at the feel of hard muscles shivering and flexing in response to his touch. He has dreamed about touching Tyr so intimately, but this is better than any dream. The Nietzschean is so hot and so hard under his hands and, yet so velvety soft and smooth. Harper looks into the amber eyes, slitted almost shut with pleasure, as he shifts his fingers tentatively and feels Tyr’s muscles tighten into rid ridges. He can only distantly remember what he wanted to ask. "But you 'severed ties' with your wife…what is that like a divorce or what?"

"Yes." Tyr slides his hands back to Harper's chest. His fingers discover the human's nipples. He's never seen Harper bare -- what color will those nipples be? Pink? Peach? Beige? Will the human's chest be as smooth as his own? The human's habit of dressing for concealment is increasing his anticipation and need. Unwrappinrperrper will be like unwrapping a particularly intriguing gift.

"So. Can you 'sever ties' with a shieldbrother?" Harper searches Tyr's face for an answer to this most important question.

"I would never do that to you."

"That’s not an answer. You can't promise that, can you?" Harper asks.

"I had to rebuild my Pride. I did what I had to do to reach that goal."

"Well, it looks like now you're a lot closer to your goal." Harper gasps as he arches into Tyr’s strong hands his head tilts back against the wall. He can feel the heat of those hands as if his shirt isn’t even there. His nipples tighten under the slow, circling rub of Tyr’s fingers. The sensations of Tyr’s hands, his scent, his heat, his closeness – it is all overwhelming. Harper can almost feel his brain cells shorting out.

"What do you mean?" Tyr lowers his head so that his parted lips hover just over Harper's mouth. He can feel the coolness of the human's breath against his face.

"Okay, let's do the math, shall we, Big Guy? Two kids…twin sons at that…equal a big start in the pride rebuilding department as far as I'm concerned." Harper shivers as he fights back the need to close that tiny distance between his lips and the offered heat of Tyr's mouth. Oh, Divine, he's never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life. He's never had such a hard time keeping his brain online. Even with Satrina, as good as she felt, he'd never lost track of what he needed to, what his next move in their little war would be, but with Tyr, it's so hard to just remember what he wants to ask, what he needs to know.

"They are not pure-blood!" Tyr growls as he fists his hands in Harper’s tee shirt and yanks the smaller man close. Muscles bunch in his shoulders as he rips the shirt open and stares at the human's chest. So smooth. So pale. He growls huskily as his gaze settles in the beaded peach of the human's nipples.

Harper pants, "I got that…what with the human mother and all…how is that a bad thing?"

"To the other prides they are mongrels no better than a kl…a human." Tyr spreads his hands over Harper’s bare chest. It's so silky. So cool. The rigid nipples graze his palms as he slides the ragged remnants of Harper’s shirt down the human’s arms and tosses it to one side.

"Go ahead, you were gonna say they aren’t any better than kludges." Harper gasps as Tyr bends to nuzzles his chest. The contrast between the texture of Tyr's beard and the soft heat of his lips make it so difficult to think clearly. "How can you say that?! These are your own children for the Divine's sake! They carry that sacred Kodiak DNA down to the core of their bone marrow."

"They would be killed."

"What?!" Despite his shock, Harper can't stop his hips from arching hopefully upward as Tyr nuzzles lower, nibbling at the skin showing over the waistband of his cargo pants. Harper tugs lightly at the long braids, urging the Neitzschean back up.

"If it were known…They would be exterminated. I don't want that to happen." Tyr reluctantly raises his head and looks down at the human.

"Killed? Why?! It doesn't… make any sense."

Tyr seizes Harper around the waist and falls backward onto the floor, pulling the human down on top of him. Tyr's braids fan out around his head as he lies there, looking up at Harper. His hands slip down Harper's waist to knead the human's thighs encouragingly. "Nietzscheans do not tolerate mingling in the DNA of humin ain a sanctioned union."

Harper sits astride Tyr's bare stomach. He yields to the temptation and spreads his hands across the wide expanse of's c's chest, smiling as the Nietzschean moans and presses into the caress. "That means what…if Mariyam had been your little luv slave and you happened to get a few kids that's okay…but because you married her in the Nietzschean way…like with the helixes and stuff, then the children have to be killed?"

"Exactly."

"Well, that sucks." Harper eyes the muscled length of Nietzschean sprawling languidly beneath him, apparently content to be stroked and petted as long as he wants to do it. He fingers the tight dusky nipples and wins a ripple of muscle and husky growl. What's he doing here? What's he supposed to be doing? He's never willingly done this with a man, but it feels so right with Tyr. So wonderful. With a woman he'd know what to do next, but with a man -- and Tyr isn't giving him any cues. But that isn't really the issue. Tyr's indisputable Nietzscheaness is the issue.

"Tyr?" Harper leans down warily as Tyr continues to sprawl with that deceptive languor, watching him with half-closed eyes. When the Nietzschean doesn't move, Harper leans closer, tracing the corded lines of Tyr's throat and the strong slopes of those heavily muscled shoulders. He is still amazed by plush textured skin overlying the hard muscles. So smooth and soft. He leans closer still and kisses first one tightly beaded nipple and then the other. His tongue flicks teasingly over the duskly circles.

Tyr makes a throaty noise, almost a growl. One of his hands curls around the human's nape. "Yesssss?"

Harper rubs his cheeks against the smooth skin and over the rigid beads of dark nipples. He lightly nibbles his way up the strong line of Tyr's shoulder and buries his face in the crook of neck and shoulder, breathing in the Nietzschean's scent. It seems sharper and stronger now, helping ease the sting of old memories still looming threateningly in the back of his mind. Harper breathes in, concentrating on the scent. This is the Andromeda. Not Earth. This is nothing like that other time. Now he is on top and apparently in control. The control is complete illusion, of course -- nothing that Tyr could not change in a heartbeat but the Nietzschean's willingness to allow him to set the pace, to call the shots is reassuring and helps him push back the ugly memories. Harper isn't even certain if the scent, and the knowledge that it's Tyr, could have calmed him if Tyr had pressed him to the floor instead of pulling him down on top. Harper eases back up. His fingers test the texture of Tyr’s beard before moving to trace the sensual lines of those lips. Tyr’s lips had fascinated him for a long time. The lush fullness had hinted at a sensualist hidden in the warrior. "I'm on top of you. What is this? What are we doing here?"

"It is…" Tyr presses a delicate kiss on Harper's exploring fingertips. "Whatever we want it to be. What do you want, Harper?"

Harper searches those dark eyes for a moment before leaning slowly forward and shyly kissing Tyr, sinking into the enticing warmth. His tongue slides in and a moment later the heat of Tyr’s tongue fills his mouth, exploring aggressively in contrast to the powerful body lying so submissively beneath him. Harper moans. "I want…I want…"

His hands tangle in the long braids as he urgently pressing his mouth to Tyr, curling his tongue around the Nietzschean's. He pressed closer as Tyr's hands slide over his knees to explore the tension building in the lines of his thighs. Harper moans as he flattens himself against the hard body beneath his, rubbing his aching cock against the solid heat of Tyr's abdomen. He writhes, abandoned to sensation until Tyr's hands close over the curves of his ass pressing him closer. The hard demanding grip, the sharp scrap of bone blades flexing against his thighs break the spell and Harper rises to his knees, pulling sharply away. "Oh god!"

"No, Harper!" Tyr lunges for the human, a guttural growl rumbling in his throat. His big hands lock around Harper’s upper arms.

Harper freezes, torn between the need to fight and the knowledge that Tyr will not harm him. His blue eyes are wide and full of remembered pain and fear as he stares back into Tyr's hot amber eyes.

"No. Tell me." Tyr slowly collapses back, his hands sliding down Harper’s arms. He ongaingain lies flat on the floor, breathing hard. His amber eyes are dark and hot, but there is a concerned question under the smolder as he looks at the human. What happened? What went so appallingly wrong just then? Tyr presses his palms firmly against the floor. His hips flex in a silent sensual plea as he lies there panting. He cannot bear it if Harper stops now. He gives his shieldbrother a pleading look. "Tell me…what you want. Tell me…show me."

After a long moment, Harper slowly crawls between Tyr's long legs. He isn't going to lose this newly discovered pleasure to old fears and he most definitely does not want to answer any of the silent questions that he can see in Tyr's beautiful eyes. Harper strokes the heavy muscles of Tyr's thighs. He turns his head, rubbing his cheek against the Nietzschean's inner thighs, smiling faintly as the long legs move restively in response. He moves higher, nuzzling the clenching muscles of Tyr's stomach, breathing deeply of the Nietzschean's scent. His fingertips trace light patterns just above the waistline of Tyr’s tight black pants. "I want to…taste..."

"Harper," Tyr gasps. His hips arch urgently against the human.

"I need to taste…you." Harper smiles as he unfastens the laces. He deliberately brushes his knuckles over the swollen bulge pressing eagerly toward him. This act is something new for him – at least as a provider of the pleasure and it is a pleasure that he wants to bestow upon Tyr. It is something that holds no painful memories and from now on, will be something to be remembered with joy. He pulls the flap open, freeing the darkly swollen length of Tyr’s shaft. "I want to feel you pressing against my tongue. I want to scrape you with my teeth."

Harper strokes a finger down the hot velvet skin and circles the wide head. Tyr cries out, his hips arching off the floor as Harper traces another teasing circle over the head. Harper lowers his hand to cup the heavy sac below, enjoying the plush fullness of it filling his palm. He continues to explore the intimate textures, refusing to be hurried, enjoying the deseperate clench, flex and quiver of Tyr’s hard muscles in response to this caress and that. "I want to feel you explode in my mouth like Vedran Caviar."

"Show me." Tyr tosses his head against the floor, scattering his braids as his body writhes needily under his shieldbrother's slow caresses.

Harper settles himself comfortably and slides his mouth over the dusky cock. It tastes of Tyr and desire and need. The Nietzschean cries out but his big hands remain flat against the floor. When he slowly pulls back, allowing the trembling cock to slip from his lips. He looks up the length of Tyr's long body to smile at the sensual plea filling the amber eyes. He lowers his head and lavishs a series of slow licks from base to tip, provoking a deep, prolonged growl from his lover. Harper kisses the swollen tip, swirling a smooth circle with his tongue. At the edge of his vision, he can see the big hands flexing urgently against the floor and the bone blades quivering and extending. Harper closes his eyes, shutting out the sight. He breathes in Tyr's scent and focues on solid, velvet length in his mouth. He brings every bit of creativity that he possesses to the task of combining the touch of m, te, teeth, and tongue, hands and fingers to give Tyr the maximum pleasure. The slow writhing of the Nietzschean's powerful body gave way to urgent movements, and a savage growl followed by the sudden limpness of blissful relaxation. Harper lifts his head with a grin despite the swollen ache of his own unsatisfied yearning. He gently folds the cloth flap back over and laces up the black pants. The Harper is definitely good. He's never seen Tyr look so relaxed, almost daz

Tyr opens his eyes and reaches for Harper, couslously drawing the human down against his chest. His fingers stroke through the wild blond spikes. "Vedran caviar?"

"Oh, yes. I know whereof I speak. The Harper is good." He snuggles closer, curling a thigh over Tyr's hips.

"You have proved that on more than one occasion.” Tyr chuckles breathlessly. His arm tightens around the human's narrow waist. "But you are not yet satisfied, Harper."

"I enjoyed giving you pleasure." Harper nips the heavy muscle of Tyr's shoulder.

Tyr pulls Harper's head back and studies the human's flushed face closely. He brushes his lips over Harper's and whispers between soft kisses, "Come back to my quarters with me. I must replace the shirt I destroyed…and I want to explore you…give you pleasure."

"I'm not sure I'm ready for that…" Harper sits up, looking uncertainly down at Tyr. What is the Nietzschean asking him for? If it's more of what just happened here, he's willing, but if Tyr is expecting more from him -- he can't.

"I will only give to you what you so joyously gave to me…nothing more," Tyr promises huskily.

"I thought you'd want…" Harper bites his lip and looks away.

"Make no mistake…I yearn to be inside you…but that can wait. I also want to devour your wonderful mouth and I would like to continue this in the privacy of my quarters at our leisure." Tyr sits up and curls his hand over Harper's nape, pulling the human into a softly, pleading kiss. "Will you come?"

Harper looks deeply into the amber eyes as he strokes long braids back from his lover's face. "Yes."

TBC


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