BY : myladymystere
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
Dragon prints: 2505
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.

I do not own or profit in any way from Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda.

This is my first slash and portrays a powerful possible Andromeda fictional pairing-in my eyes, strong emotions had lasted over 300 years. Sorry if I don't write well from a guy's POV. It takes place after Telemachus joins the crew but before the last season. I do not have 'word' so all correction of spelling and punctuation was done the old fashion way-so sorry in advance if we missed any. As always feel free to archive, download or pass around-just enjoy


Dylan looked up with a jolt to see Rhade standing uncomfortably in the doorway.

'Telemachus, Telemachus' Dylan reminding himself silently. 'Not Gaheris.'

Sometimes it still surprised him, their similarities, until he looked closer. 'His' Rhade would have strode confidently in, his boots tapping out a brisk rhythm, not hovering so. Or, Dylan remembered, just stay silent and watch. How many times had he looked up from this desk to see Gaheris leaning against the doorway, arms crossed with a slight smile quirking up one corner of his mouth. When caught, he would raise one eyebrow and his smile would broaden a bit. It had been a game between them. Sometimes Dylan would pretend not to notice him and stretch provocatively. Once discovered, Gaheris had hated to be ignored. Or, more often, Dylan would roll his eyes and command "Come to me Rhade". His first officer would advance on quiet feet across the distance separating them, plant his fingertips on the glass top and lean forward. His breath warming Dylan's mouth as he asked, "Captain, you wanted me?"

"Always," Dylan would reply "Always."

"Hunt, can I come in?" questioned a hesitant Telemachus Rhade.

"Of course," replied Dylan, returning to the present as he watched the other man come forward. He carefully blanked his expression to mild interest as he thought to himself 'Gaheris, probably, had just been spying on me anyways.'

Dylan focused to real attention as Telemachus deposited two items he had been carrying to the flat surface. Dylan just stared at them. Dimly, he heard Telemachus' voice saying "I found these in my new quarters.... Well, to be precise, 'his' old quarters. I thought you should have them." Telemachus paused and then turned and left. Dylan was only vaguely aware that the room was empty now, except for himself and memories.

He recognized them, how could he not? Their familiarity made his hands itch to reach out and touch them, but he just stared. A picture viewer and a personal journal padbox. Not his own- but Gaheris's. How often had he laid in the bed that the picture viewer had been displayed near? And, he recalled, how often he had curled his body around his lover's as the other sat up in bed and wrote down private thoughts. Dylan would lie on his side, pressed up against the warmth of the Nietzschean, his face buried between the taunt skin of Gaheris' ribs and the pillow. His arm would be flung across Gaheris' lap and the other man would balance the pad on his bicep.

"Turn out the light, that's an order." Dylan would grouse.

"Just five more minutes, I'm almost finished," would be the standard reply.

Sometimes, Dylan would sigh and fall asleep. Other instances, he would start to drive the Nietzschean insane. Licks, bites, and kisses against the firm flesh. Soon, Rhade would growl and toss the padbox to the floor. Dylan would allow himself to be pushed to his back as the slightly smaller man leaned over him.

"Do you always have to get your way?" Dylan would hear the familiar complaint from his first officer and lover.

"Well, I do outrank you," he would tease back.

Gaheris would usually start to kiss him to shut him up. Dylan shuddered as he remembered the firmness of that mouth the-

"Captain, are you alright? My sensors indicate your body-"

"I'm fine." Dylan interrupted Andromeda. He ran his hands over his face before he turned to the hologram image of his ship. Andromeda was regarding the objects on his desktop suspiciously.

"I can have these items removed. I can summon one of my robots and jettison them out an airlock." She offered.

"They aren't bombs." Dylan dryly protested. "I think I should do this. It would be good for me." He looked at her concerned image. "Please, Andromeda."

"Understood." She said and blinked out. Dylan didn't request Privacy Mode, because she would worry, but now she wouldn't interrupt him again.

He took a deep breath and drew the journal closer to him. It had been left unlocked, and Dylan noticed, decrypted for him by Telemachus. Dylan knew it had been originally written in some obscure Majora Pride code. Hell, he had seen it over Gaheris' shoulder plenty of times and even questioned it. He remembered teasing his lover, "Gaheris, we're spooks."

"Former spooks," he was corrected.

"Right. Yeah, well we don't keep diaries."

"I just started this when I got my commission, I feel," Gaheris paused. "It might need to be read someday."

"Well, far be it for me to make your kids miss out on reading your memoirs." Joked Dylan, not liking the thought that something might happen to the other man.

"Gaheris, did you ever think in the future that I might be the one doing this?" Dylan mused. "Shit, you must have considered it, how could you not?" Rubbing his hands over his face again, he began to read.

Dylan discovered that Gaheris had heard a rumor of who would be the new captain of the Andromeda Ascendant and he had maneuvered himself to be the first officer. That he had accepted the mission to Mobius to forge a bond between them before the restrictions of Commonwealth officer's 'official' conduct could apply. Dylan also realized through hindsight and hinted references that high ranking Nietzscheans were already unhappy with the Commonwealth's views and dealings with the Magog and were placing their own people in key spots. Before they even met, Gaheris must have known that he might be expected to take over the Andromeda and betray his captain in some way. To make that easier, Gaheris had probably decided to develop an intimate relationship between them. And Dylan had made it so easy, thinking back.....

After the mission, the night before they were going to meet with Admiral Stark, they decided to hit bars and clubs together. But, after a few rowdy establishments, Rhade had suggested retiring to his rooms. And Dylan, who just wanted to get quietly drunk, agreed. And as well as getting sloshed, he got seduced. The refills, the back rub to relax, that turned into something more sexual. Dylan remembered agreeing to take off his shirt, hell, drunk it had seemed sensible. Then Rhade happening to have massage oil, yeah-the oldest trick in the book. The feeling of Gaheris' strong hands as he worked out Dylan's tenseness and telling him all the things he needed to hear about putting the mission behind them and dealing with the consequences. Stuff only fellow 'spooks' could share together. Dylan had been so eager to get rid of the bitter taste of Mobius, that kissing Gaheris seemed right. It had been Dylan pushing Gaheris down as the other man took off their clothes. Dylan had wanted a good, hard fuck to forget everything.

But how he remembered now the slickness of the oil and the heat and hardness of Rhade. The feel of the willing body beneath him as he pushed into the taunt ass of the other man. Of hammering in and not worrying about being a heavy gravity worlder, knowing the muscled form could withstand the punishment of Dylan's pounding. He had reached around to grasp Gaheris' cock, but found it already being fisted and pumped. His withdrawing palm had brushed against Rhade's quivering boneblades. He had vaguely recalled stories about Nietzscheans and wove his fingers between the bare bases. Rubbing them back and forth, he had driven the man pinned under him into a writhing frenzy. Rhade had climaxed explosively and that tightening vice had triggered Dylan's own shuddering release. It had felt great. So damn great.

Dylan also recalled passing out. Waking up with the hangover from hell and Gaheris helping him so he could puke his guts out. Handing him the med tablets and a wet washcloth. Running the shower and wrestling Dylan under the spray. Dylan remember trying to sober up, swaying slightly in the water with Gaheris standing behind him, arms wrapped around his middle to support his taller body. Being a little unsteady, but not worrying because Rhade was there-and Rhade would never let him fall.

"Fool, fool, fool." Dylan berated himself as he shoved the log slightly away and leaned back. Looking around, he saw the picture viewer and angrily flipped it on.

'Ah, don't we make the cute couple' he thought cynically. 'Too bad he was playing me from the start'. Glaring at the image, Dylan noted it was from a shore leave spent together on Riva Beach. Dylan had been sitting on the sand between Gaheris' legs. Gaheris was seated on a canvas chair behind him. Dylan had his elbows propped on each knee of the Nietzschean and was grinning at the hover camera. His expression was open and carefree. More like 'naive and stupid' brooded Dylan. Rhade had his hands resting on Dylan's shoulders, his boneblades were extended and he was looking down at Dylan. He looked.....sad? Dylan frowned and drew the picture closer. Nah.....well it was hard to tell. Even relaxed, the Nietzschean was so controlled. Well, not really relaxed, considering the erect boneblades. But that was normal; they were sitting surrounded by strangers and Rhade was so overprotective. They had several disagreements over that. Dylan remembered what had caused the first one.

They had been serving together on the Andromeda for several months. Everything was going smoothly. They were discreet and nothing about their relationship was interfering with their roles on the ship. Some members of the crew might have suspected, but only because of experience serving with Nietzscheans. The Nietzscheans definitely suspected but the special cleaning gels Gaheris supplied had confused their noses. In the military, it was pretty well common knowledge, though seldom discussed, that the highest ranking Nietzschean always tried to be involved with his superior. The joke was 'if the Alpha can't be the top dog, he wants to be fucking it'. That expression wasn't shared often with Nietzscheans, humans have survival instincts too.

A new Lancer had come aboard. The young Nietzschean, Dylan now realized, resembled Tyr. But without the long braids and bigger. A lot bigger. He and Attila were sparring and had drawn a bit of a crowd, mainly of other Nietzscheans. Dylan was holding his own quite well until Andromeda had interrupted. Holding up his hand in a 'halting' gesture, he had turned his attention to her. Still seeing movement from the corner of his eye, he had jerked his head back. The blow had mostly missed Dylan, but Attila's boneblade had grazed his cheek. He jerked his shirt off to stop the bleeding as he confirmed with Andromeda the time of his upcoming meeting with Admiral Stark.

While speaking with Andromeda, he had studied Attila's expressions. Subtle challenge, the sharp distracted attention, then alarmed awareness. But not, Dylan had confusedly felt, about striking his captain. It wasn't until Dylan had followed Attila's lowered gaze that he had begun to understand. In rather prominent view were several distinct large 'love bites', courtesy of his first officer from last night.

Muttering an oath, he pulled back on his shirt, now sporting a nice bloody spot, and had grabbed a small towel to use instead. Telling Andromeda he was going to Med Deck he had addressed the now subdued Nietzschean.

"I trust that was an accident and will never be repeated." Dylan had sternly commented.

"No, sir. Never. Absolutely an accident." Was the quick reply.

Nodding, Dylan left the room of strangely silent Nietzcheans.

Dylan had proceeded to Med Deck to let Doctor Hillary Kazva attend to his injury. Shrugging aside any seriousness of the shallow wound, he had briefly explained its origin.

"Ah, well then, I'll get my gear ready." The Nietzschean physician had commented. Dylan remembered being confused at that comment, but took the opportunity to get to know one of his doctors better. He remarked that he had noted that most High Guard ships had at least one Nietzchean doctor and it usually was filled by one of the few females-Nietzschean females that is- on a military ship.

"If men make awful patients, imagine a Nietzschean male?" She amusingly had confided. Besides a warrior would not want to admit to an injury-a weakness-but if he was just going to let a female fuss over him, that was entirely different. Dylan and the doctor were chatting when she got the call from his first officer that a medical team and hover stretcher was needed in Recreation Room Four.

Dylan had frowned in recognition and accompanied the physician, who seemed unsurprised. Returning to the room he had left earlier, they found a battered, bloody, and semi-conscious Attila on the mat. Near his head was a broken off boneblade and Rhade standing close by. He had his uniform jacket off and it was lying on a nearby bench. He seemed disarranged and had suspiciously bruised knuckles. Rhade then had calmly explained to a disbelieving Dylan that Attila had wanted to continue sparring. Rhade had obliged him and the younger male had simply fallen. Not wanting to pursue this in front of an audience, Dylan had dismissed him. All the Nietzscheans, including the 'falling' victim, had blandly agreed with their first officer's assessment of the 'accident'. The few human crewmembers also agreed, but they appeared shaken and uncomfortable.

Getting the highest ranking human alone, Dylan had pressured him into revealing the truth. Dylan had also picked him because he seemed the most calm of his human crew present. Lieutenant Ridley admitted that after Dylan had left the room earlier, all the Nietzshceans just milled around as if waiting while Attila had fidgeted on the mat. One had said something like "Nice knowing you, Attila." Roughly five to six minutes later, the first officer had entered, threw his uniform jacket on a bench, and approached Attila. He had announced that if the younger man wanted to spar, it would be with him. Ridley had believed Attila fought well, especially since his fellow Lancers were looking on, but the smaller officer had been efficient and merciless. When Attila had finally went down and stayed there, Rhade had snapped off Attila's boneblade and slashed his face with it.

Dylan was dazed. Seeing his confusion, Ridley explained further. With a human, Dylan's response would have been adequate to handle the situation. But the Captain should think of Andromeda as a lion's pit. Most Nietzscheans look for ways of climbing in the 'pecking order'. Attila's action was one of daring, so it would have moved him up. Then, they realized without any doubt, when they saw the revealed marks of possession, that their captain belonged to their Alpha. That knowledge-or lack there of-changed Attila's bold move into a stupid challenge which Rhade had answered most decisively. Ridley further had advised a befuddled Dylan to just ignore the incident and not pay any special attention to Attila. Even negative attention would show an interest that would weaken Rhade's claim. That would probably make the Alpha jealous and since a calm and controlled Rhade was scary, Ridley had not wanted to contemplate a pissed off first officer.

Dylan had gathered his wits enough to question Ridley's expertise on Nietzschean 'social customs'. With a grin, the tall blonde had pulled his collar down to show a serious love bite of his own. He confided to his captain that he was pair-bonded with Stonewall in Engineering. The huge Nietzschean also was the second most dominant Alpha on the ship, so Ridley was safe from repercussions from his and Dylan's 'chat'. He said to Dylan over his shoulder when he had been dismissed "Niet lovers are high maintenance, but the rewards are worth it."

Frustrated with the rest of his crew's lack of cooperation, Dylan stormed to his first officer's quarters. In the hallway, a short distance from the door, he almost had charged into Dr. Kazva. He remembered being surprised and expressing that to her.

"Shouldn't you be in Med Deck tending to your more seriously injured patient?" Dylan questioned her.

"Attila will be stabilized and ready for me when I reach there," she had replied firmly. "Though First Officer Rhade is not as serious, he is more important."

Dylan frowned, but had let her pass. Running his hand through his hair, he entered Gaheris' quarters. He remembered being torn between anger and confusion.

"Damn it, Rhade!" Accused Dylan. "What were you doing?"

"What was necessary, mainly due to your own actions." Was Gaheris quick rebuttal. Obviously, Dylan thought sourly, his lover was going for 'offense is the best defense' tactic.

Dylan planted his hands on his hips and faced Rhade, who was sitting on the side of his bed. His shirt was removed and the shiny white wet/dry binding around his ribs shown starkly against his skin. Dylan had spied the beginning of bruises blooming on his torso, shoulders and arms.

Dylan felt a bit guilty about his verbal attack.

"Do you want to explain that remark?" Demanded Dylan.

"Do you want to sit down and discuss this, or stay standing and imagine you are on a moral pedestal?" Was Gaheris' sarcastic reply.

With a grunt, Dylan yanked over the desk chair and sat, glaring at Rhade. He had actually, secretly, wanted a yelling match. If for no other reason, than to make the other man lose that annoying self-control. Though, he had noticed Gaheris glaring back, and was pleased. With a condescending gesture, Dylan motioned for Gaheris to start speaking.
Growling deep in his throat, Rhade addressed Dylan.

"You have been on enough Commonwealth ships with a mixed crew to understand the dynamics concerning Nietzscheans. Every Nietzschean on board wants to be the Captain or as close to you as possible. I hold the highest spot, but with your insistence on being discreet, others were not sure exactly where I ranked in importance to you."

For the first time, Dylan recognized his lover would have preferred a more open relationship and he shifted uncomfortably. Maybe Rhade himself doubted his importance as well, Dylan guessed.

Rhade continued, "You should never have singled him out to fight; that showed you might favor him, perhaps over me."

Dylan now recalled Attila's too eager expression in the gym. "We were just sparring," he protested. "No other Nietzscheans wanted to volunteer."

Gaheris raised an eyebrow and Dylan had quieted.

"Since you did not use the opportunity while fighting to fondle him..."

Dylan interrupted with a snort.

"And since," Rhade had firmly continued. "You probably didn't smell aroused, Attila got confused.He then turned the practice into a situation to score points with the watching Nietzscheans, since he wasn't going to 'score' with you."

"We were just sparring," Dylan repeated. "It wasn't anything sexual."

"It can be. I remember when we sparred a lot when we first came on board..." Gaheris let his voice trail away as he smiled smugly at Dylan.

Dylan had felt his body harden as he remembered. Their matches had become almost like foreplay. Each looking for an opportunity to bring the other to the mat to include wrestling into their workout. The banter a little too teasing, the touches starting to linger. All too revealing to the eagle eyes of any nearby Nietzscheans. Dylan started suggesting late night matches, not only to ensure empty exercise rooms, but so they could both retire to bed afterward. Together.

"Well, you weren't around." Dylan complained defensively to Gaheris. "What was I suppose to do? Sit around and get fat and flabby?"

Rhade's eyes had darkened as he gazed at Dylan, lounging in the chair a short distance away. Dylan saw his gaze move slowly over him and his own skin heated in response. He felt his cock stir and stretch under the sensual scrutiny. Realizing that any moment his loose pants were going to tent and give away his arousal, Dylan had leaned forward. Bracing his forearms on his knees, Dylan addressed his concerns about their relationship.

"Do you think 'us' is interfering with the running of Andromeda?"

The dark, heated look in Rhade's eyes had instantly hardened.

"No, what is causing problems is your insistence in keeping 'us' a huge secret. If we had pretended to slip up every so often, our crew wouldn't be confused, but maybe that's because you still are." Rhade said intensely.

"You and I are together and we are going to stay that way unless you transfer me off." His first officer challenged. "Then you will have Hannibal fighting with Stonewall as he chases after your ass." Rhade had concluded.

"Hey, Hannibal's my basketball buddy." Said a surprised Dylan.

"Yes, and he rubs against you way too often," accused Gaheris.

"That's called guarding; it's a close contact sport." Dylan defended. "Don't you dare beat the crap out of him too." Ordered Dylan.

"I was so severe with Attila because he slashed you. Drawing blood is serious among Nietzscheans. What if he had scarred you because he was showing off?"

Groaning, Dylan had leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face. Redirecting his gaze back to the other man, Dylan had remembered discovering something disturbing. His lover was studying him closely, while sitting still and controlled, his face composed and not betraying any discomfort. Not from their discussion, or from his physical battering. Not betraying any weakness, as if he felt Dylan might use it against him. Dylan had been disturbed at how guarded Gaheris was as they studied each other.

"You're not considering transferring me, correct?" Stated Gaheris firmly. The question sounded more like a statement of fact, but that it was said had been revealing to Dylan. It showed his lover's uncertainty and doubts.

"No, no I'm not." Dylan reassured softly.

Attempted to lighten the mood, Dylan continued. I am going to grab a shower."

"Good." Gaheris had replied gruffly. "You smell."

"Gee, thanks." Dylan laughed.

"No, I mean..." Gaheris paused. "You smell like 'him'."

Dylan was secretly pleased at this show of jealousy.

"Well, then let us both shower and I'll make sure you don't fall over."

Gaheris had looked slightly offended, but had not refused the offer of assistance.

Dylan stood up and pulled off Gaheris' boots and socks and stepped forward between the other man's dangling legs. Gaheris had leaned back on his elbows with a grimace. With efficient movements, Dylan unfastened Rhade's uniform pants and hooked his fingers in the waistband of them and the black thong underneath. Rhade levered his hips up to assist. Dylan had tried to be gentle as he wrestled the tight pants down the slim hips and muscled legs. He loved admiring the view of the snug uniform trousers, but they were a bitch to get off. Tossing them aside, he turned back to survey his lover. Gaheris had collapsed flat on his back on the bed, panting shallowly. His concave belly raised and lowered with his breaths and Dylan gaze focused on the thin trail of dark, soft hair that trailed down Gaheris' navel to a thicker nest. Emerging from the wiry curls was Rhade's cock, resting along his thigh. Even flaccid, it was longer and thicker than most human men's. Nietzschean genetics bred for quality *and* quantity.

Under Dylan's lingering look, it had hardened and lengthened with a large, shiny drop of precum pearling from it's slit. Dylan reached out with a fingertip and scooped it up, and brought it to his mouth to taste. Raising his eyes, Dylan had met Gaheris' slumberous, heavy lidded look. The other man quirked and eyebrow and started to say something, but paused as Dylan swooped down. Dropping to his knees on the plush carpet, Dylan grasped Gaheris' thighs and spread them further.

Still holding Rhade's gaze, Dylan had let one hand slide down to cup the smooth, large sack and gently kneaded his lover's balls. His right hand slid up and his blunt nails rasped through Rhade's pubic hair before circling the base of the lengthening cock. Dylan had given a slow lick up the prominent vein until he reached the bulbous head. Dylan swallowed just the head and slowly sucked back and forth over the crown while his tongue had probed the slit. He knew fully erect, Rhade's cock would be slightly shorter in length than his own, but much thicker. He knew swallowing that girth would be a challenge unless he tricked it. The actions of his nimble tongue would cause slick precum to flow. Nietzscheans leaked faster and more so than human men and their fluid had been enhanced to act as a natural lubricant. And it tasted rich and sweet. Dylan was addicted to the taste and let it coat his throat.

A slight narrowing of his eyes was the only warning he had given Gaheris before smoothly engulfing the entire length. Both hands moved to grasp Rhade's slim hips and pin them firmly down against the mattress. With a growl, the Nietzschean laid flat and lifted his arms above his head. Palms cupped his elbows in an effort to keep his convulsing boneblades up and away to avoid shredding the bed cover.

Dylan sucked and moved along Rhade's cock in short, deep motions, setting up a relentless rhythm. He would pull back just a few centimeters and inhale to slide back to the base to exhale into the wiry nest of curls. Gaheris had been making guttural groans and trying to buck against the vice of Dylan's strong grip.

Finally showing a little mercy, Dylan had slid his lips back to the crest of the head to torment the slit again with his tongue tip.

He had grinned as he felt the desperate fingers sink into his hair. Pressure against his skull urged him deeper. Dylan had started to oblige, then half-way down Rhade's shaft he stopped, and slowly retreated with a light scraping of teeth. The fingers in his hair had clenched into warning fists and Dylan sank his mouth slowly down again and moved his hands to weave his fingers between Gaheris' boneblades. Slowly, in a circing caress, he stimulated the sensitve boneblade bases. The freed hips beneath him started to piston up as Rhade fucked his mouth. Closing his lips around the base of the cock working back and forth in shallow thrusts, Dylan had begun to make swallowing motions and his throat muscles had convulsed around the hard shaft buried deep. With a roar, Gaheris had given a few last thrusts and emptied himself, shooting down the back of Dylan's throat. Slowly drawing his mouth down the length of Rhade's cock, Dylan had softly sucked, milking all of the salty sweet cum and causing Rhade to shudder beneath him.

Reluctantly, Dylan had let the softening hardness slip from his lips. Stroking Gaheris' forearms soothingly, Dylan had rested his face along his lover's thigh.

"Now I really feel like jumping up and into the shower." Muttered a collapsed Gaheris.

Laughing, Dylan had risen and gently helped the other man to his feet.

"You still have all your clothes on." Was the disgruntled observance.

"I'll take them off to shower and you can look, but not touch." Warned Dylan. "You're injured."

"You didn't think so a minute ago."

"I was showing you my bedside manner."

"Thank you, Florence Nightingale." Was Gaheris' reply as Dylan had steered him into the bathroom.

Dylan had grinned in response. He really shouldn't have been anticipating them showering together, as Rhade was all battered and hurt, but he had been hurting too. Well, more like aching, and his lover was Neitzchean....

Continued >>>

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