TITLE: "Sleeping Arrangements"
AUTHOR: Aiobheann
RATING: NC-17 Explicit m/m sex, harsh language.
PAIRING: John/D'Argo
SUMMARY: John and D'Argo find a way to repair the damage left by John's drunken admission. Part 7 of the "Blood Brothers" series.
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me, they belong to Henson, can you give me a Hell Yeah? I just love them too much to leave them on board Moya with no nookie. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made here. Who needs money when you've got love? Story copyright 1999 Aiobheann.
FEEDBACK: Yes, please. slashdiva@yahoo.com
Crichton found himself walking aimlessly around the ship, his nerve for the talk he knew he and D'Argo needed to have gone. Yeah, you're a real hero, John. You get yourself all worked up to talk to him, and then you chicken out. He glanced down at his watch -- 11:05 PM. There was no real need for a watch, at least not the one he'd had with him when he came here. Here -- wherever that was -- time was measured in microts, arns, cycles. But he found it comforting to have the watch on, nonetheless. Not long after he arrived, he'd set it to correspond to the waking and sleeping cycle they all followed aboard Moya. It just made him feel safer, somehow, to be able to glance down at his watch, as he had twenty or thirty times a day back home, and get a handle on the time. I certainly don't have a handle on much else around here.
He'd been walking for hours now. Arns, he absently corrected himself. After having some time to think about what had happened, what he felt, he had decided to get up right then and talk to D'Argo, but he hadn't quite made it. Still hungover and nauseated, he had gotten back into his bed -- alone, of course, he thought sourly -- and slept off as much of it as he could. When he'd woken again, it had been late enough that the rest of the crew had gone to their own cells, the ship quieted down for the night. He had run into Zhaan in the galley, and she had tried to convince him to eat something, but just the thought of food cubes was enough to tell him he was definitely not over the hangover just yet. With that impish light in her eyes, she had commanded him to go to bed.
Yeah, like that's gonna solve anything. Go to bed, alone, and meditate on my own stupidity. He looked up and realized he was standing in the corridor outside his quarters. Turning his head, he could see that D'Argo's quarters were dark. He probably went to bed a long time ago, John thought. Waking him up to talk wouldn't help. He trudged into his own quarters, took one look at his empty, rumpled bed, and before he even realized what he meant to do, he was standing by the bed in D'Argo's quarters, undressing as quietly as he could.
Moving slowly, not wanting to startle D'Argo awake -- I'd probably end up with a freaking crushed windpipe, he thought -- he stripped down to his T-shirt and boxers and slid carefully into the bed next to D'Argo. D'Argo grumbled in his sleep and rolled over, his arm going across John's waist before he settled back, his breathing deep and even. John smiled to himself in the dark, realizing that he had spent enough time in this bed, sleeping next to D'Argo, that his presence was close enough to second nature to not even wake him. After watching the Luxan sleep for a while, he closed his own eyes and tried to sleep.
He had been dozing for a while when he heard D'Argo shift around, heard him say, "John?" in a drowsy, sleep-rough voice.
"Yeah, big guy. It's me."
Silence. John was about to say something, anything, to fill the void, when D'Argo said, "I thought you wanted to be alone."
"I did. I just wanted to think. And I really felt crappy."
A soft laugh. "After drinking that much dukal, I should think so." A pause, the feel of D'Argo's hand gently stroking his cheek. "How do you feel now?"
"Better."
"Good."
"Now that I'm here." The stroking stopped, and he thought maybe he had surprised him. After a moment, the hand moved across his cheek again, and John continued. "I'm sorry I acted like such a shit."
He heard D'Argo grunt assent under his breath.
"Is that 'Yes, I forgive you' or 'Yes, you acted like a shit'?" John asked.
"Both."
"Thanks. You're always so supportive." John muttered. The hand stroking his cheek cupped around the nape of his neck, and he was pulled forward for a soft kiss.
"Of course I am, you stupid human." John rose on his elbow, ready to argue, but D'Argo's next words stopped him cold.
"Because I love you."
"You do? I mean, I was upset earlier because I thought that after I said that and you didn't say anything that it must mean you didn't and I was --" The hand curled around the back of his neck gave him a gentle shake and he stopped. "What?"
"Crichton, you always talk too much."
"I can't help it! I just thought that it didn't mean anything to you and this was just --"
"Crichton."
"D'Argo, I'm trying to say something here."
Even in the dark, he could hear the affection and need in D'Argo's voice, and he felt D'Argo pressing closer against him, felt the evidence of that need pressing against his body, hot and hard. "I only want to hear you say one thing, and then I want you to shut up."
"Oh." D'Argo's hand trailed down from the back of his neck and down to his ass, slipping under the waistband of his boxers and cupping, stroking. "Ohhh. I love you."
D'Argo buried his face in John's throat, lips working at the tender flesh. John's hands came up to clutch at D'Argo's back, digging into the hard muscle under the silky skin as D'Argo drew a long moan from him. Voice rough with desire, D'Argo whispered, "Say it again."
"I thought I was supposed to shut up." John gasped. D'Argo rolled over, pulling John underneath him as he went. Propped up on his hands over John, D'Argo looked down at him, irritation warring with affection and a passion that took John's breath away. Must you think in cliches now? he asked himself, and then all thought ceased as D'Argo leaned down and battened onto his throat, biting and sucking, rocking his hips against John's and forcing him deeper into the mattress under his thrusts.
"Say it again," D'Argo insisted, lifting his mouth away from John's throat long enough to force out the words.
John clutched at D'Argo's hips, pumping in rhythm with him, both of them growing too frenzied to even think of stopping to remove clothes, of stopping at all. "Yes, I love you, I love you --"
At the sound of John's voice, strained and choppy with the movement of their bodies, D'Argo groaned and bit at John's shoulder, coming against him. At the feel of the warmth spreading over his groin, John's chant rose into a wordless cry and he shuddered against him, adding his warmth to D'Argo's. Breathing harshly, D'Argo dropped his head to John's shoulder, listening to the racing pulse, to the song of John's blood.
Later, when D'Argo had slipped into sleep again, John rose and padded into his own quarters just long enough to get fresh shorts and T-shirt, and then went to the center chamber. It had been too long since he'd eaten, and his hangover was gone, appetite returned. He was unsurprised to see Zhaan sitting at the table as if she had been waiting for him. Smiling, she rose without a word and fetched a tray of food for him, putting it at the table and inclining her head for him to sit across from her.
"Thanks." John picked up a food cube and popped it into his mouth, watching Zhaan watching him. That impish smile still on her face, she casually inquired, "Did you go to bed as I suggested earlier?"
John laughed. "Yeah. Not much gets by you, does it, Zhaan?"
"Not much." she agreed pleasantly. "Especially not with such compelling evidence." She reached across the table and tugged at the collar of his T-shirt, revealing the bite mark that was now coloring to a vivid bruise on the side of his throat. John blushed, reaching up to pull her hand away. She took his hand in hers instead.
"Your secret is safe with me, John." She squeezed his hand, smiling, and then rose to go. At the door, however, she turned. "For as long as you wish it to be a secret. If you do want to -- what is it you say, 'keep it under wraps'? -- I would suggest having a little more concern for your neighbors, though."
She glided serenely out of the room, laughing quietly at the sound of John choking on a food cube.