Was it day or night? John had been in the cell for weeks, maybe months? It had been so long he had no idea about anything anymore. But it had not been long enough to forget all the stupid mistakes he had made that landed him and the rest of his companions under the tender care of Larraq and Company.

The PK commander Larraq and his crew of Peace Keepers had set foot on Moya with a strange top secret cargo. They never really had time to find out anything more...

John had donned the PK captain's uniform left behind from...

"God, where DID we get that ugly thing?"

Well, he had tried to impersonate a PK captain, and it had failed, and failed miserably. And all of it was his fault. Once the jig was up, he had been placed into one of the cells that Moya'd had in her capacity as a prison ship. Where everyone else was, he did not know. Were they even still alive?

He had no idea.

He had spent hours...sometimes days...yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs. To be answered only by the steady hum of Moya. He had spent just as much time crying, sometimes till he was doubled over in gut wrenching sobs. Once he had even puked because he was bawling so hard. But never an answer. He sometimes wondered if he was the only one left alive.

The only way for him to count the passing of time was that DRDs brought him food cubes and a nutrient rich liquid on a regular schedule. Maybe they would do this until he died?

"God, Gramps had lived to be... 87? I'm 29! Holy shit!"

No, he couldn't be the last one left. John had only learned a small amount from Aeryn about Peace Keepers, their customs and culture. Maybe this is standard procedure when dealing with a captive?

Aeryn! Just the thought of her gave him a hard on.

"Two kisses."

All that time with her, often alone, and he had only managed - two lousy fuckin' kisses. His dreams, when not reliving the chain of events that led him here, were filled with Aeryn: the sounds of Aeryn; her voice, her laugh, the scent of Aeryn, and even the taste of Aeryn.

"Two lousy kisses!"

But man, he was getting his money out of them!

He had always been an avid fan of masturbation. Not excessive or anything, but he definitely was not afraid to give himself a hand now and then. Since his stint in solitary, it was his ONLY form of entertainment. He tried not to cum more than once a day, maybe every other day. But once, after a long night of delirious, almost hallucinogenic-like dreams filled with a mixture of Aeryn and all other women he had made love to, he had jacked off six times. He tried to go a seventh time, but he was raw and had to stop completely for over two weeks.

Since no one was ever around, he preferred to remove all of his clothes.

Plus, it took time to take them all off and it took time to put them all back on. And that was the one thing he had plenty of - time. Once his clothes were off and neatly folded and placed on the floor, he would decide where he would do it. He wasn't worried about the mess, since he had the same bathroom facilities as in his old room, so he could take a shower, shave, shit and even suck a Dentic now and then.

In fact about the only real difference between that room and this was he couldn't get out of this one. Sometimes when he felt especially sorry for himself he would just 'let it fly... ' even sometimes into the corridor. This brought the DRDs scurrying to mop up the mess, and he felt like he had some sort of company, if only for a few moments.

Today, John decided to lay on the bed, He propped one arm behind his head and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath as he spat into his hand. Carefully he cradled the spit down to his penis. He flipped his hand over so that the liquid was at the base of the shaft. He ran his moistened, cupped hand over the length, rolling it up and over the tip. He spit again and repeated the same motion, but then positioned his thumb so it was around the backside and he had it in a good grip. Not too strong 'yet', but enough to get the friction going.

"God, why can't women do it just like this? They never seem to get it right, usually end up chafing the Big Guy."

"Ah, Women...WHO will it be today?"

John liked to get a memory or a fantasy fixed in his head. Nothing complicated, just a image or thought to carry him through. Usually it was of Aeryn, but not always...

As he slid his hand up and down the shaft, he periodically would bring his fingers expertly over the entire head and tip. He closed his eyes and was flooded with bits and pieces of imagery from last night's dream.

The dream had involved Chiana, and she had been naked. The images from his dream were what came to him today so...he was going with it. He was trying to recall if he had imagined what her bare breasts looked like...He had never ACTUALLY seen Chiana naked... No, he couldn't remember if his subconscious had conjured up any images of her tits. So he let himself drift into the fragments he did have from his dream...

They were in a bed together... It was the lumpy roll out bed at his uncle's cabin in northern Minnesota. (He had gone there when he was a kid.) There was a fire in the fireplace and the windows were open, so the sounds of the night came in with the breeze. He also could hear his uncle and the goofy neighbor guy cleaning fish at the kitchen sink, tellin' lies only old men can tell each other six hundred times and still find funny.

"You can dream up some weird shit, can't you, Champ!"

He was on top, and inside her. She was wet, warm, and SOFT. Very soft; her voice, her touch and especially her caresses were all soooo soft. He was lost in her...

Then she started rolling them over and over and over...

All of a sudden they were no longer in his uncles cabin, they were on Moya. Now Chiana was on top. And she was no longer soft. She was aggressive and domineering, with that very intense stare she had, she was commanding him to do what SHE wanted... And she wanted him out of her and for him to lay silently with his back flat on the bed.

"THIS is the Chiana I know!" Even her weird, freaky head twitches were back.

Now, she was giving him head. Every time she pulled him out of her mouth she would rake her teeth along the shaft. She wouldn't even ease up when she moved over the tender ridge of the head. But God, it felt great!!

All the while this little movie was playing itself out in John's head. He was rhythmically pushing and pulling on his dick. The only variation in this dance was the occasional spit added to the party. As the fantasy of Chiana got closer to making him cum, John grabbed his balls with his other hand and began to roll them tenderly between his fingers. With his eyes closed even tighter, his rhythm increased and so did his breathing. As he reached that precipice and tumbled over it, he let out a loud guttural groan and the warm, white liquid shot onto his belly.

He lay still and quite for a few seconds savoring the moment.

"Chiana? Hmm, I'll have to explore this subject a bit more..."

Still on his back, eyes lazily closed he yawned as he stretched, lifting both arms above his head. He took in a deep breath through his nose, he could smell that pungent, musky mixture of odors that is only created during sex. He yawned again. As he closed his mouth a second time, he slowly began to open his eyes.

It took a moment for them to focus and even longer for his brain to register what he saw...

Just outside his cell, with a very strange smile -- or was it a smirk? -- stood...

Larraq.

END ...Love the One You're With , Act I by Loki