Quiet and Still

BY : TarynWanderr_L0C
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
Dragon prints: 2956
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.

Title: Quiet and Still
Author: L0C
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harper gets his comeuppance. About damned time.
Pairing: Harper/Tyr, dur.
Spoilers: Um. I haven’t actually seen the end of season 3 yet so this is all based around hearsay. Maybe it’s AU.
Content Warning: M/M. PWP. Bondage.
Brit’s Flashfic Challenge for L0C: Tyr has a secret and Harper is determined to find out what it is. I ran waaay over at 2500 words minus disclaimer and quote, but I really can’t cut any more. Sorry.
Disclaimer: Andromeda is property of Tribune.

/If you remain quiet and still
You might escape life’s fill
of misery
-Gord Downie ‘Pascal’s Submarine’/


Tyr set Harper down a little less gently than Harper would have liked when they got to Tyr’s quarters. Tyr ordered privacy mode at almost the exact same moment and Harper barely had time to make out a snappy retort before Tyr clamped a large, strong hand over his mouth. Blue eyes widened.

“You were warned. Do not go scavanging around in my possessions. You’re not on that rock of a planet anymore and you don’t need to steal. And you don’t need me killing you, do you?”

Blue eyes rolled. Harper ripped Tyr’s hand off him. “Oh please,” his lips curled. “You’d never kill me, you don’t have it in you, Tyr. Don’t pretend like we’re hostile strangers, I’ve known you for three years. And I have a right to know when you’re going to betray me, this crew has a right to know when you’re about it betray it.”

Tyr stood there, like a big brick wall, his armed crossed, staring down at Harper. “You thought I was going to betray you?” Condescending.

“Well what the fuck else were we supposed to think? Why do you think Rommie let me into that crawlspace, Tyr, do you honestly think I could do that without her knowing? Jesus, I’m a genius, but I wouldn’t blind her like that. I have principals.”

“Right. And your principals include loyalty to this wayward, delusional Captain Hunt?”

“Well... Loyalty to Beka! I’d go to hell and back for Beka, Tyr, maybe you don’t understand that because you’ve never loved anything, but-”

Tyr actually laughed. “You think I’ve never loved, boy?”

Now it was Harper’s turn to laugh. “Right! Mister ice-cold Uber man, love, I can’t even compute the two things in the same sentence. Look at me, I’m sputtering.” Harper suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. “You just...you’re so *distant*, Tyr, after all we’ve seen and all we’ve been through and you’re just...I mean I’m as paranoid as you, but I still let people in! I was poking around in some boxes in a crawlspace and you freak out and friggin’...hoist me back like a war criminal. What’s the big friggin’ deal? What’s so important you can’t let any of us in?”

Tyr’s eyes softened a little, if that was possible. “You want to know what’s so important to me. You. Seamus Harper. Want to know me, Tyr Anasazi.”

Harper scoffed. “For normal people, three years is ample time to get to know them.”

“You want to know my secrets, Harper.”

Suddenly the question was so much more to Harper. “Well...I guess so...I mean you know most of mine. S’only fair.”

“Can I trust you?”

“...I don’t know.” And that was truthful enough.

Tyr still hadn’t moved from his original spot, even though Harper felt he was all over the map, what with the fidgeting.

“If you can remain quiet and still for the rest of the night, I’ll tell you my secrets.”

“What?”

“If you can remain quiet and still while I do what I want to do, I’ll let you know me.”

“...well what are you going to do?”

“Can you remain quiet?”

Harper bit his lip and looked anywhere but Tyr for a moment. “...what are you going to do?”

“Come here.” Tyr put a hand on one of Harper’s shoulders, gently, and guided him to his bedroom in the back.

Harper considered protesting again but he figured, if he could hold back, he’d finally have everything he needed to...uhm...get closure about Tyr.

Tyr left him facing the wide, dark-sheeted bed in front of him while he went to a dresser. “What are you going to do?” Harper asked again.

“Shh,” Tyr said, coming behind him and draping a blindfold over his eyes. “I won’t do anything to hurt you. If there’s ever anything you don’t like just say so, and we’ll stop. Do you trust me?”

“Ye...yes...and then you’ll tell me what you’re hiding?”

He could almost hear Tyr’s miniscule tilt of the head. “But you have to be quiet. And still. I want to know you can do as I say, Harper.”

Harper bit back a retort. He wanted to make this work. Somewhere along the line he had come to think of Tyr as a friend and he was beginning to realize he would do anything to have that feeling returned, and just be let in.

Tyr’s hand on his arm startled him, but it was a pleasant sort of startled. “Here,” Tyr said, guiding him again. “Sit down. Get comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

Harper sat there on his ankles, hearing Tyr leave very quietly. His hands were free. He wasn’t bound by anything but his words. He could’ve just taken off the blindfold and split whenever he wanted.

But he didn’t.

Harper wondered what he looked like. He was wearing this orange shirt, one of the shirts he only wore when nothing else was clean, or the orange shirt was at the very least the most clean. It was short sleeved with not-particularly-flattering green bands on the arms and neck. He wore rather non-descript cargo trousers, that ended somewhere above his work boots. Blond, dishevelled hair sticking up over his blindfold. He bit his bottom lip, and now he wrung the hem of his orange tee in his hands, a bit nervously. He must’ve looked so stupid.

He was so...blah.

Tyr was so *not*. Tyr was big and impressive and demanded respect, he was burly and leathery and rubbery and everything that shouldn’t be in the same sentence as Harper. It was like they were from different universes. And Harper, the engineer came to realize, trusted the Nietzschean, in a way he would trust no other Nietzschean- and not too many other humans, for that matter.

It wasn’t like Harper hadn’t been in this particular situation before, but he had never been bound by just his own words, or even his consent. There was a power in it that that Harper revelled in. Surprisingly, to him, for the first time in his life he felt in control. Tyr had asked him something and he was doing it because it was his *choice*...Tyr could trust him. He could walk away at any moment and Tyr knew that. But he wouldn’t.

He was startled again when he felt a pair of muscular arms wrap around his torso. He almost yelped but his breath only ended up catching in his throat. He felt rough stubble rub up against his cheek and throat.

“Easy,” He heard Tyr’s rough voice growl into one ear. “Good boy,” He said approvingly when Harper managed to stay silent. Harper felt the older man’s hot breath rush past his left ear. “You can be good when you want to,” Tyr said softly. His hands ran up and down Harper’s torso, a bit rougher than expected but not, Harper realized, as rough as he would have liked. He wondered if, in fact, this was just the beginning, and how long he could keep quiet, or even hold on. He wasn’t known for holding on very long.

He almost yelped when Tyr’s head was suddenly on the other side of his, biting his right ear, his hands suddenly thrust up to Harper’s chest, inside his shirt. Harper managed to keep it down to a rushing intake of breath, and he could feel Tyr smile against his flushed throat. “That’s my boy,” The older man said, a little teasingly, lifting the shirt up and off Harper’s body. Harper wondered, fleetingly, if Tyr was fully dressed as the Nietzschean undid his belt, and realized that he didn’t really mind if he was.

Strong fingers danced up and down Harper’s torso, teasing already bullied nipples, and Harper felt not particularly romantic kisses along the back of his neck. “If you ever want me to stop,” Tyr whispered between kisses, “Just say so.” Kiss. “I will not do anything you don’t want.”

The hands kept moving around his body, and they just covered so much space together with the mouth that Harper lost track of where everything was. He tried to grip Tyr’s arms with his own, paler, skinnier hands. He tried to say to himself, /It’s okay, it’s only Tyr/ before he realized he wasn’t scared. He was as in control as he could ever want to be.

He could feel Tyr’s breath cushioning around his dataport. “Do you want me to keep going?”

If Harper wasn’t gagged by his word, he would’ve screamed “Fuck, yeah!”. He settled for nodding frantically.

He felt Tyr attack his dataport and suck the skin around it so hard he could hear it. Somewhere in between nearly dying of pleasure and a raging hard-on, and biting his lip savagely so as not to scream, he lost his trousers and boxers in one swift motion.

The familiar heat left his back when the voyage of his trousers was hindered by his work boots. He leaned his arms and head forward on the foot of the bed while Tyr got his boots off him.

Harper, with not too much thought in his head, scrambled forward onto the bed, his old instincts kicking in for the fast, hard fucking he was expecting. He felt Tyr’s hands grip his hips roughly and pull him back to sit on his heels. “Not yet,” The older man reprimanded, just barely squeezing between Harper’s thighs and chuckling softly at the squeak that was almost solicited.

Harper sat there, shaking, wondering what the fuck was taking so long, when he felt Tyr wrapping his right arm up in something warm and plasticy, that quickly became moist with sweat. And then his left arm. It was saran wrap, and Harper wasn’t really in a state to wonder if Rommie had asked why Tyr was taking it out of the kitchen.

Tyr pushed Harper’s arms to hang along his torso and wrapped him up that way, confining his arms to his sides, with a few layers of saran between the skin. He wrapped Harper up across and diagonally, layer upon layer. Harper bit his lip. It was bizarre, but not unpleasant. The saran clung to his already heated skin and teased at it all over in a way that was, well... he wasn’t getting any *less* turned on.

Tyr rewarded Harper’s silence with another kiss to his dataport. “Now,” He said, gently pushing Harper forward until he was lying face down on the foot of the bed, bound by his word and saran, his bottom raised on the edge and his feet a good deal more than shoulder-length apart.

His arms below his elbows were free, if still closed in their own film. Tyr pushed his right hand down to his thigh and began to wrap that leg, binding his arm to his thigh, keeping it spread from the other. Harper felt the saran wrap up very high on his thigh, which was fucking amazing, and then down to his ankles. And over and over again, layer upon layer, the skin becoming just as hot and bullied as the rest of him.

A few moments later Tyr was done with the other leg and went away again.

Harper lay there, face down on the bed, encased in saran wrap except for his head and his bottom, and a very devious part of his crotch that was half-covered. He was hot and sticky, but in a better way than he could ever imagine. Every breath he took stretched his body against the film encasing it, stretching the saran over his nipples and the rest of his body which had flared up into one huge erogenous zone.

Cool air breezed past his bare bottom and he thought that he must look a sight, bound by his word and saran on the foot of Tyr Anasazi’s bed, his ass exposed for anyone who might walk in, his hands encased on his thighs like he was holding himself open.

The idea made the saran rubbing up against his cock that much more unbearable. He squirmed and shifted a bit, trying to give himself release, but saran against silk sheet doesn’t make for much friction.

His bottom was slapped, hard, and Harper jumped. Sort of.

“I told you to be still, as well,” Tyr said softly, and Harper wondered if Tyr had been there the whole time, just watching him. Harper bit his lip and squirmed some more, desperately wanting release. He was clinging to an edge he had never been to before.

Tyr slapped his bottom again, harder this time. “Didn’t I?” He asked. Another slap.

Harper stopped squirming and nodded. But that didn’t stop the slapping, and it turned into a full blown spanking. Slap after slap against that upraised bottom, the rest of the body bound in clear film, trying it’s damndest not to speak or move.

Eventually Harper couldn’t take it anymore. “Tyr, please!” He almost shouted. One more loud, painful slap, the hardest of all of them.

“It’s all right,” Tyr soothed, running a finger up and down the saran on Harper’s back, and Harper was almost furious that he wasn’t allowed to move. “I’ll forgive you that.” A smooth, slicked up finger entered into Harper slowly and Harper couldn’t help the small smile that played on his lips. “But that’s all the sound you’re allowed to make until I say so.” He continued to very slowly, maddeningly, slick Harper up.

Fuck. This was going to kill him.

“Do you want me to stop?” Tyr asked gently, already knowing the answer.

Harper shook his head.

“Good.” And then Harper felt more than one finger enter, slicked up and smooth and cold, and one more after that, until something big and hard and...

Harper found a good bit of bedsheet to bite down on.

Fuck.

FUCK!

Oh. Man. Frelling. DIVINE!.

The saran tugging at his skin and the huge man pumping into him, slowly and carefully and fucking AMAZINGLY, and his own will not to move or speak, sent Harper over the edge faster than anything he had ever experienced. He felt Tyr reach for his cock, through the saran wrap, and the bizarre, sticky sensation made him come at the barest touch, followed soon by Tyr’s release inside him.. The feeling of his semen splattered up between his skin and the saran was demeaning, but in a way that Seamus Zelazny Harper really, *really* enjoyed.

Tyr chuckled as he pulled out, and left Harper there, dripping and sweaty and bound by his word and saran, for a few moments before returning with a wet cloth.

“You can talk now,” He said when wiped up the mess and took Harper’s blindfold off.

“Holy shit.” Harper murmured softly, lying perfectly still, dazed.

Tyr chuckled as he slowly turned Harper over and started unwrapping the saran. The skin underneath was flushed and wet, and it pleased him. He stroked it softly. “I suppose you want to know my secrets now.”

Harper panted and stared up at Tyr, his eyebrows furrowed. “Secrets?”

Tyr chuckled again, smiled indulgently, and told him. Everything.

-----

Harper couldn’t really walk with any sort of comfort for the next few days, but whenever he saw Tyr’s face, it wasn’t full of secrets and deceit anymore, but a sad sort of hopeful future, for the both of them.

So, you know. It was all good.


You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story