Settling the Bet

BY : Bebe
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
Dragon prints: 1763
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: Settling the Bet

Author: Bebe

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: If I owned them, season five would have had a lot more shirtless Rhade and Harper.

Spoilers: Early season five.

Feedback: Please send comments to

Pairing: Harper/TRhade

Archive: At AU and AFF. All others please ask.

Summary: Drunken bar bets don’t always lead to something good, except when they do.

Author's Note: Set somewhere between "The Eschatology of Our Present" and "What Will Be Was Not," and inspired mostly by Harper’s comment from "Phear Phactor Phenom" that "Sometimes a person's got to do what they got to do. How are you getting by, Rhade, huh? By the tight pants, I can only guess."


Awkward? Yes. Uncomfortable? Yes. Worth it?

Oh hell yes.

Even as he thought it, Rhade growled and pushed it underneath him. "Harper!"

"Complaining?" he gasped, after the initial yelp.

"Only if you don’t move." Another push, this one threatening to completely unbalance his already perilous position. He had to scrabble for purchase, his hands landing just above Rhade’s knees.

"I will when you stop being so demanding." He gritted his teeth and forced himself down as far as he could. It wasn’t far or easy— it had been a while— but Rhade groaned and let himself fall back onto the pillow. "See?" He lifted up, down again, grunted with the effort. "Who said patience wasn’t a …" Another slide. "A virtue." Again.

"The same person who said silence wasn’t golden." He closed his eyes and punctuated the retort with another thrust.

It was Harper’s turn to groan. That one had hit just the right spot, and he couldn’t let that happen again or he’d lose. "I’ll be quiet," he shifted again, keeping the pressure away, "when you let me work."

"Then do it." Little more than another growl, now.

Harper snorted— considering that the last time he’d seen some woman leading Rhade off was yesterday, he couldn’t be too frustrated— but kept his mouth shut. The harder it was for Rhade to hold back, the better. Even as he thought it, though, he was moving, and watching Rhade carefully. The Nietzschean had closed his eyes and looked pained, or was the term "passionate agony"? Either way, Rhade seemed pretty well gone, more so when Harper carefully clenched his muscles as he slid down.

Oh, he was so going to win this.

"Feeling all right? Want me to go slower?" Just to bug him, he did, moving in slow motion.


"Sheesh, okay, fine," and he picked up the pace again, except for the occasional slow slide with deliberately tightened muscles. He wasn’t going to complain too loudly, though, since his thighs were already screaming at him, stretched as they were over Rhade’s torso. Now I remember why I never do this, he thought, groaning for entirely different reasons than Rhade’s. He hated this position, but it was still better than having a large drunk Nietzschean crushing him.

And, of course, it meant that he had control over this whole thing, a fact that he infinitely appreciated, muscle aches be damned.

He moved his arms, putting all his weight on one arm between Rhade’s legs and balancing on it. He waited until Rhade opened his eyes, probably to complain about the lack of friction, before doing anything else. Carefully, he stroked his own cock base to tip and could see Rhade tense even more, his eyes following every motion when Harper did it again.

Definitely winning this.

He barely was able to get his hand back down to brace himself before Rhade thrust up again, harder this time. "Ow!" he protested, the force actually hurting for just a second before it was replaced by the thrill of a slide over his prostate. "Oh…"

Rhade growled and did it again, missing the sweet spot this time but also not pushing as hard. Fast, though, and repeated, and all Harper could do was hang on and hold off, just a little longer, which was easier said than done with Rhade filling him, brushing his prostate sometimes and the skin of his groin rubbing against Harper’s testicles. Any control that he had in this before was gone, and it was almost a relief from the tension of not yet when Rhade pushed up one last time with a guttural groan before spilling deep inside him.

Harper had the grace to let him lie there and pant, enjoying his climax, before destroying his good mood. Finally, though, he couldn’t stand the ache anymore and reached to stroke himself again, more slowly than the frantic pace of the last few minutes. He could feel Rhade still inside him, and carefully wriggled to feel him nudge against that spot that made it all so much better. "Hey," he said, waited until Rhade opened his eyes again. "You lose." And then he closed his own eyes and jerked frantically, seeing again the look on Rhade’s face when he’d come and finally getting his own, shooting over both their stomachs.

He didn’t get to enjoy it long, with Rhade shoving him off almost before he’d finished. "You cheated."

"What?!" Harper barely caught the edge of the bed to keep from rolling off. "How did I cheat? How is it possible to cheat?"

"I don’t know, but you did. You had to. There is no way you could have beaten me."

"Ha, guess what, I did. Or is the blood in your alcohol stream interfering with your oh-so-excellent perception?" The movement away was just to reach something off the side of the bed, honest.

Rhade growled at him again, this time in irritation, before rolling over to the opposite edge and leaning to rummage in his pile of discarded clothes. He produced a flask (from where Harper had no idea, with clothes that tight) and took a swig before announcing, "I need to use your shower."

"Well, you can’t. Closest you’re going to get is something to wipe yourself off with." Anticipating this, Harper had already grabbed one of his more-holes-than-cloth shirts and was cleaning up as best he could with it.

Rhade snorted at Harper’s method before rolling off the bed. "Oh, please. Like you haven’t already figured out how to get around the water rationing."

"I did, but I already took advantage of it. This morning. And even I in all my brilliance can only siphon off so much before whoever’s controlling the tech police this week figures it out and sics them on me. So, no. You can’t use my shower." He threw the shirt at Rhade, probably harder than he really needed to, but the Nietzschean was still out of it enough between alcohol and sex that he didn’t quite catch it. Heaving a heavy sigh that suggested more effort than picking up a single piece of cloth, he grabbed it off the floor, turning it inside out with an expression of disgust. After cleaning himself off, he dropped it with a flourish before climbing back onto the bed.

"Hey, wait, what are you doing? My bed! Out! Go to your own hole to pass out in!" Harper tried to push him off, but was remarkably unsuccessful at dislodging him, the bigger man instead snagging the good pillow and settling in for, apparently, the night.


"Why not?!"

"Because we’re doing this again as soon as possible." Rhade cracked an eyelid. "And this time I won’t lose."

"But— I—!" Seeing that Rhade had apparently gone to sleep, Harper huffed before grabbing the remaining pillow and the sole blanket and rolling over to face the opposite direction. Elbowing him as he punched the pillow into shape was an accident. Mostly.


"As soon as possible" translated to "as soon as you wake up." Harper opened his eyes to the rising suns glinting through the sole window in the bar’s backroom, the blanket covering just his foot, and a cock nudging at his thigh. No sooner had he registered all this than he got grabbed and rolled onto his back, his yelp of protest apparently ignored.

"Morning," Rhade said, nuzzling— nuzzling?— at Harper’s neck. "Lube?"

"No!" He tried pulling his hand out of Rhade’s and only got a crunched thumb when the fingers around his tightened.

"No?" That made him pause, and he pulled back far enough for Harper to see his raised eyebrow. "Are you trying to save it? Or is this just a personal thing?"

"No, trust me, lube is good. And please, you think I can’t just make the stuff or barter something if I need more?" Rhade’d relaxed his grip in his curiosity, and Harper took advantage of it to pull his hands away. "No, I just thought we could try something… different."

"That doesn’t involve penetration?"

Okay, so Rhade had either not been bred for the "smart" gene or else he’d killed off more brain cells than Harper thought with the moonshine. "Well, not of me." He started to ease out from under him. "I mean, to be really fair, we should try it the other way around. If I come first, then we can at least call it even." Besides, I’m still too damn sore to try it again.

Rhade seemed to at least consider it while Harper reached over and retrieved the small pot from where he’d dropped it the night before. It wasn’t actually intended as lube, at least not for people, but it worked and was non-toxic so he didn’t care. He was very careful, through the finding process, to keep his butt firmly planted on the bed so as not to give Rhade ideas, especially since he could feel the bed shifting under both their weights. He nearly dropped the pot again when he twisted back to see Rhade on all fours, looking at him expectantly. "So I guess that’s a yes?"

Rhade didn’t answer, but it was a rhetorical question anyway.

Harper decided not to quibble and scrambled around to kneel behind him before he changed his mind. He had to take a second to appreciate the view, of course— as much as he bugged Rhade about the tight pants, they did showcase a very nice asset— but only a second, and then he got a fingerful of the slippery stuff, sliding the first clump on himself. He kept the spreading brief, wanting to give up as little advantage as possible, which is why he took a whole lot more for Rhade. Trying not to think too much about what he was doing, as that way led to losing the bet, he slowly worked a couple of fingers inside, doing his best to ignore the low groan that told him more clearly than anything else what effect he was having on Rhade.

Instead, he focused on moving and stretching his fingers and Rhade’s muscles, wanting him relaxed and slick. There was no way he was willing to lose this, not after winning the first round, and the happier Rhade was the better his chances. Just to check, while he added another finger and started a slow rhythm, he reached with the other hand, sliding around to grip the base of Rhade’s shaft. He only got in one stroke before he got growled at, and pulled away in case the guy got testy, but he grinned, secure that Rhade couldn’t see him. Apparently, he really enjoyed this, which made the whole thing easier.

Rhade started to wiggle, a word that Harper never thought he’d apply to him, impatiently as Harper scissored his fingers. "Impatient, huh?" He punctuated the statement by curling his fingers in a cluster, and was rewarded by another deep groan, either from the motion itself or because Harper hit the right spot.

"What do you think?" Rhade shuddered when he uncurled them, and Harper decided that it was time to try something else, if for no other reason than that he was starting to feel pretty uncomfortable himself with all this buildup and no attention to his own nether regions. He considered adding more lube, just to give himself a little more leverage, but realized that if he added any more neither of them would get any friction.

He shuffled a little closer, swearing when his knees caught on a fold of fabric and he nearly landed on Rhade. He recovered himself, partly by grabbing on to Rhade’s hip; he smirked, an "I meant to do that," when Rhade looked back over his shoulder. Before the other man could say anything, though, he lined himself up with his other hand and pushed in immediately, and anything Rhade would have said came out as a grunt.

Oh God. Hot, tight even just around the tip, and despite all that lube the slide in was slow and difficult. It took so much effort, once he was inside, to not just let go and rut. It was only the thought of losing this that made him stop. He had to force himself to simply hold Rhade still enough that he could more or less control this. It was effectively an illusion given that it was a Nietzschean he was doing this to, something proven by the night before, but he felt better not thinking about that.

Rhade snarled, "Harper, move!" and he was startled out of his reverie.

"Honestly," he started to thrust again, forcing a gasp from Rhade when he slid home, "you’ve got to learn to let me work. Genius takes time." And the way Rhade shuddered when Harper hit his prostate was nearly enough to make genius forget that axiom. But he couldn’t lose, so he concentrated on hitting that spot again and ignoring his own response to Rhade’s grunts and twitches.

As he adjusted to the feel of it, he started to thrust back against Harper, something that made it easier and more difficult both at the same time. Less control, but if Rhade was that close… He let go of Rhade’s pelvis with one hand, reached around Rhade and seized him, enjoying the desperate groan that resulted. Just a few more minutes… And he stroked Rhade firmly, with a twist on the head when he got there, and got a Nietzschean slamming back against him with all the force in his arms. The motion nearly knocked him off-balance. He hung on desperately, stroked again, and tried to aim with the next jerk forward.

It took a couple of tries, but soon Rhade growled and Harper felt him shudder under and around him. He closed his eyes and willed himself to hold off while Rhade spasmed, holding himself still and not giving into the urge to completely let go, something made harder by the hot fluid suddenly coating his hand.

Eventually the spasms eased, and Rhade was panting on his hands and knees. Harper took a deep breath and started moving again. He started with a fast pace, feeling the cling of Rhade’s body around him, with the occasional clutch of muscle when he hit a sensitive spot. "Guess what?" he managed between quick breaths. "I… win. Again."

Rhade growled again, pushed back just as Harper reached the point of no return. He collapsed forward onto the other man’s back when his climax crashed through him, Rhade’s twisting only providing more friction and sending another jolt through him.

He lay there for a minute after the last tremors passed, appreciating the hard body against his, feeling smug and satisfied, and breathing in the sharp scents of sweat and come. He’d won, again, he’d gotten laid twice, and—

And Rhade pushed him away and slid off the bed.

"Hey! Hey, wait, where are you going?" He didn’t exactly appreciate being used, especially when he wasn’t allowed to enjoy the lingering effects of the using, and really especially when being used meant that he landed in the wet spot.

"Shower." He stretched sinuously and headed for the curtained alcove that served as a bathroom.

"But— My shower! I didn’t say you could—!" He scrambled off the bed and went after him when he realized that arguing wasn’t working. He caught up with Rhade right as he stepped into the small shower stall and shoved in beside him. "If you’re going to take up my water, you can at least share," he informed Rhade, who was unceremoniously taking a very large handful of Harper’s shampoo.


So apparently the man got laconic afterward, at least when he wasn’t being irate about losing. "You know, your manners suck. I think I’ve discovered why I’ve never seen you with the same woman twice. I just wonder why they never talk to each other, so they’d— mmph!" Rhade tugged him close and kissed him, which would have been hotter if Harper hadn’t tasted the soap more than his lips. When he finally let go, Harper staggered back against the wall and leaned there for a second. "Okay, I win the bet, I insult you, and all you do is kiss me? Who are you and what did you do with the sore loser of a bonehead who routinely threatens me?"

Rhade smiled damn near seraphically and tilted his head back under the water. "I see no reason to take action when you always insult me."

"And?" Harper edged back under the water and snatched the soap back. If Rhade was lulling him into a false sense of security, he might as well die clean.

"And we’ll just do best out of five."

Harper considered Rhade’s approach to his bed partners, thought about how worn he felt after one night, and calculated how much lube he had left. "Oh boy."


The End

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