D’Argo glanced up at her, his attention drawn by Crichton’s remark. “I never would have expected this of you, John,” he said bemusedly.

“Why not? I always wanted to do this kind of stuff, but I never did. I figure, if I’m gonna be stuck out here --” He stepped up to Aeryn, drawing the tail end of the belt over her cheek and down the column of her throat. “-- I might as well have some fun.” Aeryn stared forward, stony faced and silent.

“You know that she is going to kill you for this, don’t you?” D’Argo asked.

“I don’t think so.” Crichton said thoughtfully. “She’s a soldier, isn’t she? Used to taking orders? I think half her fucking problem is that she doesn’t have anybody to take orders from anymore. She just keeps pushing me, needling me, goading me. Maybe she’s just hoping somebody will bring her up short and show her what the rules are.”

He drew the belt softly across her cheek again. “Isn’t that right, Aeryn?” She flinched away from the caress of the leather down her cheek, but some of the angry light had died down in her eyes. “I think I may just be the one to do it, too. Answer me, Aeryn.”

“No.” Softly, not much force behind it.

“Really? Then why aren’t you yelling for Pilot or Zhaan or Chiana, hmmm? I think you don’t mind being right where you are.”

Silence.

“Why aren’t you yelling for help, Aeryn?” The hand holding the belt slapped it gently against her cheek. “Answer me.”

“Because I don’t want them to...see this.” Aeryn said, in a low hoarse voice.

“Ah, don’t want them seeing the big strong Peacekeeper tied up, humiliated...don’t want them to see you being weak. Is that it?” Crichton asked.

That pushed a button, and she snapped her mouth shut, the heat and anger flaring in her eyes again. Crichton handed the belt to D’Argo, not even looking behind him, but confident that D’Argo would be there to take it. D’Argo took it from him wordlessly, startled by the sudden change in Crichton. This was not the Crichton he had thought he knew -- this man moved differently, acted differently -- behaved with a quiet power and assurance that both excited D’Argo and unnerved him. Here was a man that was not sure he could control, or own. Which was real -- the Crichton who existed outside this room, allowing D’Argo to be in charge, who had allowed D’Argo to cuff him to the bed and dominate him the way Crichton was dominating Aeryn? Or the man who was here with him now, this stranger with the deceptively calm voice who was tearing Aeryn down with his measured words and gentle violence?

Hands now empty, Crichton advanced on Aeryn again, stroking her cheek and down her throat, fingers chasing the same path he had taken with the belt. At the collar of her shirt, the fingers slipped beneath the cloth, stroking, smoothing, moving around to cup the back of her neck before winding into her hair.

“Aeryn?” Barest breath of a word, so soft and gentle. She blinked, meeting his eyes. The hand in her hair tightened, wound around into a fist, and yanked her head back suddenly, savagely.

“I don’t think you’re weak at all, Aeryn. You just don’t want this to stop. You want somebody to tell you what to do, don’t you? Admitting you need this isn’t weak. You don’t want to be saved from me -- I’m the one saving *you*. Aren’t I?” Still that gentle breath of a voice, kind and tender, while the hand yanked her head back again, a tear slipping from her eye, following the curve of her cheekbone. “Answer me, soldier.”

“Yes.”

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes.” She looked at him as best she could, head tilted far back to expose the pale throat where a pulse beat wildly. He released her hair, leaning forward to kiss the bared flesh, the touch of his lips dragging a low moan from her, almost against her will.

“Good. Now that we understand each other, I’m going to give you your orders. OK?”

“Yes.”

“From now on, you will treat me with respect. No more ragging on me, no more cutting me up with that sharp tongue of yours. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what will happen, Aeryn, if you don’t obey me?” He bent his head to her throat again, kissing, nuzzling, hand stroking down the skin-warm cloth of her T-shirt, molded so tight to her breast, and pinched the nipple, rolling it between his fingers. She hissed in breath, eyes fastened sightlessly on the ceiling past Crichton’s head, face taut with the effort of keeping a scream trapped behind her clenched teeth.

“Aeryn? Yes or no?”

“No.” she grated out, voice catching and dragging as the last breath of the word left her lips, unable to hold back a low cry as Crichton’s fingers tightened excruciatingly and then pulled away from her nipple.

“This is what will happen, Aeryn.” He stood back from her, hands raised, not touching her. She sagged, partly in relief and partly in desperation at the loss of the overpowering sensations. Blood rushed into the swollen nipple and nerve endings awoke and raved with pain, worse than when he had pinched. She bit at her lip and moaned -- feeling shame for wanting this, for accepting it, feeling relief that someone had understood. Feeling fear that he would withdraw from her and it would be over.

“This will happen if you don’t obey me. Nothing. I will never lay a hand on you again, and you will be lost. No one to tell you what to do, nowhere safe to be when you can’t stand to be alone for one more second. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, Aeryn?”

“Yes, Sir.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, and Crichton went to her and wiped the tear away tenderly with his thumb, smiling at her.

“Good girl.”

END CHAPTER 2