by T. S. Ryder
He would tell her about his oncoming musth when she woke up and was thinking clearly. They would be able to figure out what to do about it then. For now, he would let her sleep.
Chapter Seven: Sara
Sara distinctly remembered her attempts at seducing Bond while the scorpion poison was working its way out of her system. It had lasted for a full three days, the withdrawals another week, as she lay shivering and vomiting. She wasn't sure what was more embarrassing, stripping naked and dancing on the table while singing Britney Spears songs, or vomiting all over Bond as he tried to get her to drink some soup broth. Either way, he was extraordinarily patient about the whole thing, helping her dress again, or carrying her to the bathroom to clean her up.
If they were Starmates–wait, she didn't believe in that–if she started dating him, was this the kind of treatment she could expect all the time? Or was he just putting on a show to convince her to be with him?
She wandered into the training room to see Bond going at a training bot as though it had just slaughtered his family. It never ceased to amaze her. Even though she had seen his fighting prowess and the violence he could inflict, he was just so sweet and gentle with her that sometimes she had a hard time reconciling the two images.
Within minutes, the bot was completely demolished. Sara winced. "That's gonna cost a lot to fix."
Bond was shirtless, wearing only the var'ki skirt T'shav warriors preferred. His skin gleamed with sweat, and his massive chest panting made Sara's mouth water. He was just too well put together to be possible! She shook her head–those types of thoughts were what got her in trouble while she was high on scorpion venom.
"How are you feeling?" Bond muttered, not looking at her. He crossed the room and shoved on his boots. Odd. He told her more than once that he hated footwear, and he rarely wore it on the ship.
"Much better, thank you."
"Good. I'm glad. Look, there aren't any planets in our course until we reach the ship where the humans are, but if you want, I can deviate my course and take you somewhere else."
Sara's brow furrowed. What was he talking about? "Is this still about our fight from before? Because I don't want to leave. I want to save those humans. You have no idea how lonely it feels to say things like 'Luke, I am your father' and have nobody get that you're quoting Star Wars."
Bond began cleaning up the demolished bot. "My mother told me about Star Wars."
"It's not the same." Sara sighed. She wanted to get those humans to safety as soon as possible. They would be terrified and confused, and since she had experience with that, she could help them. "Unless it's that you want me to leave."
His head jerked up. "What? No. No, I don't want you to leave. But I have to tell you something that might make you want to leave."
What could be so bad? Sara waited.
Bond sighed and shrugged. "It seems like the violence that we've been encountering has brought my musth on early. I've checked my blood, my testosterone levels are nearly twice as high as normal. Other hormones are increasing, too, but I'm fairly certain that my pheromone production hasn't started yet. It'll just be a few days, though. I know I can control myself on my musth, but I understand why you'd want to leave."
Sara stared at him, a confusion of emotions swirling through her. A part of her said to run, as far and fast as she could. The horror stories she had heard of T'shav in musth–beheadings, disembowelments–were enough to frighten anybody. But this was Bond, and she knew he could control himself. After all, he had always gently but firmly insisted that she dress again every time she threw herself at him.
"I don't care."
Bond's eyes widened.
Sara shook her head, stepping closer to him. "If you think I would run away screaming, you're dead wrong. We haven't known each other very long, but if there is one thing I am more certain of than anything else, it's that you believe we are Starmates, and you would never, ever do anything that you thought might hurt me. So no. I don't want to leave."
"You're going to stay?"
The wonder in Bond's voice hurt her unexpectedly. What experiences did he have in his past with women doing just that–running as soon as he told them he was entering his musth–to make him look so wide-eyed in amazement that she wasn't going to do the same?
"I'm going to stay." She stepped closer again, pressing her hands against his slick chest. His skin was so hot, so warm, and she shivered with the desire for her body to press against his. "I think I've made it clear that I'm not averse to sharing a bed with you, Bond. And as crazy as I find the whole concept of souls being born into stars, I believe that you sincerely believe that we are Starmates."
Bond's fingers brushed her cheekbone, his hand trembling as though he couldn't quite wrap his mind around what was happening.
"It's not just your body that I like either, though that is a huge part of it," she continued. "I like that you cook and that arrogant smirk when you're sure you're right, and I love how you are traveling so far away from civilization to help these humans. I know that you were hired to do it, but you could have taken the money, and then sold their location to somebody who doesn't want to help them."
"I wouldn't do that."
"I know. And musth or no musth, I think you're worth taking a chance on. So I'm staying. And I'm going to help you through your musth." She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. "And not just because I've heard amazing things about sex with T'shav."
Bond laughed, catching her mouth with his. He pulled her closer, bodies pressing together, her shirt clinging to the sweat on his skin. Sara closed her eyes, grinning as heat pooled in her belly. She pressed herself to her toes to throw her arms around his neck, undulating her body against his. Bond groaned and picked her up, hands supporting her under her thighs, and began walking.
"Where are we going?" Sara purred, moving her mouth to his neck.
"Shower," he grunted.
"No, too far," Sara protested. "Just brace me against the wall and rip off my clothes."
Bond stopped. He shifted her so she was a little higher than him and rose his brows. "You only have two sets of clothes and you want me to ruin one?"
Sara wrinkled her nose. "Good point. When we have the chance, I'll go buy some old things for you to tear to pieces. I guess we have to be more careful now."
Careful. She sucked her lip as Bond pinned her to the wall with his body. She didn't have birth control. But she also hadn't had her period in something like four years. On earth, she was regular as clockwork, but since her accident… well, the doctors had said there was a possibility that she couldn't have children, anyway.
"Is something wrong?" Bond asked.
Sara smiled and shook her head. Her legs circled his hips, drawing him in closer. The friction between their bodies made them both moan, and the lieutenant leaned her head back, giving her lover better access to her neck and throat. Her skin tingled where he kissed. Bond tugged at her pants, and when they didn't move, he set her down. Kneeling before her, he undressed her from the waist down and slung one of her legs over his shoulder.
"Oh!" Sara gasped when he pressed his face into her. Her legs went limp as he started working, her fingers digging into his hair. Bond had to hold her in place as he reduced her limbs to so much jelly.
Sara moaned with pleasure as the heat built in her body. All of her dreams, her fantasies were nothing compared to the actual thing. The feelings he evoked in her were so powerful, and not just physically. In the past she had always made sure to stay in control, to reserve some part of herself.
But with Bond, she knew that she could let it all go. Give herself to him completely. She was safe with him. He'd take care of her.
Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Bond stood. With a slight growl, he tore his garment from his body and pressed against her again. Their bodies, both slick with sweat by this time, slipped together. Bond wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he entered.
<
br /> "Bond!" Sara gasped, clinging to him.
"My name is Tom," he whispered.
The brief thought that it was an odd name for an alien fled as soon as he began moving. Sara gasped and cried out as pleasure flooded her, driving all thoughts from her mind. She answered his rhythm, trying to keep up as his movements became more and more desperate. He kissed her hard then just stared in her eyes, the warmth in his black eyes the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
It had been far too long since she last enjoyed this; it was only a few minutes later that Sara peaked, throwing her head against the wall and screaming as everything inside her snapped and exploded. She gasped, clawing at Bond's back as she fought to regain control. All too soon it passed, and she felt Bond echo her orgasm before they both went still, bracing themselves against the wall, his arms still around her.
Sara leaned into his embrace, panting as she tried to keep her mind in place. It insisted on darting every which way, so she merely closed her eyes and enjoyed the aftershocks, welcoming the warmth Bond–Tom–gave her.
Tom kissed her again, his touch far gentler this time. "I loved that."
Sara hummed, smiling. "Me, too. Let's do it again."
Chapter Eight: Tom
Feeling Sara beside him as he woke up made Tom beam. Sex was a huge part of the musth, and being able to make love with his Starmate had made nearly all the symptoms of the ongoing cycle disappear. He was more relaxed than he had ever been in his life, and he owed it all to the beautiful woman snuggled up beside him.
Her blue skin glowed in the dim light, and he wondered if she was ever going to return it to its original color. He'd seen recreations of humans, and his mother had described the shades humans came in. No bright purple or stripped pink and green, only neutral colors. What did Sara naturally look like?
The ship jerking wildly from side to side cut his musings short. Sara woke with a yell. The ship rocked again.
"We're under attack!" Sara blurted, still obviously half-asleep despite the way the ship continued to be thrown around.
Tom scrambled to his feet, racing out of the bedroom. The screeching of metal on metal filled the ship. Docking clamps. Whoever had attacked them now had their ship in their grasp, being drawn into the bellow of its own vessel. An outdated technology, but this far from the core of civilization…
Sara emerged from the room as Tom grabbed his weapons. They would not go down without a fight. He glanced at his Starmate, heart pounding. He would die to protect her… but at least they had been able to meet and know one another before death… he would have to cling to that for comfort.
Sara slammed her hand on the comm. "This is Lieutenant Sara O'Neill of the United Species Corps, release this ship at once!"
"They're not going to—" Tom cut off as the ship shuddered. It spun slightly, and the view screen showed another ship hovering above them, the docking clamps retreating back inside. His eyes widened. "Okay, that was unexpected."
A voice came over the comm. "O'Neill. Long time no see, friend."
***
The leader of the pirates that had attacked them was named Toridge. She was an old colleague of Sara's from their days of training, and apparently Toridge owed Sara her life. Tom had been ready to take the opportunity to flee and get far away from the pirates, but apparently, there was some sort of social convention that said if the pirate was an old friend, even if you were on opposite sides of the law, you have to go over to their ship to partake in a big feast.
Sara wouldn't let Tom talk her out of going, and Tom wasn't going to let her go alone. So now he found himself surrounded by the filth of the galaxy. He would have been happy to kill them all for the crimes that they had committed against travelers not so lucky to have known their captain, but they outnumbered him and Sara, so diplomacy was the best way to continue.
They were all sitting around a table, dishes of food stretched out along the length. Species of all kinds were there, although Tom noticed there weren't any T'shav.
And yet his people were blasted as mercenaries and pirates wherever they went.
"So how did you end up here?" Sara asked her old friend as she snacked on some type of fruit.
Toridge snorted. "You’re going to arrest me?"
"With my extensive backup? Nah. Actually, I'm probably going to be court-martialed for going AWOL if I ever get back to the Corps." Sara looked wistful for a moment and shook her head. "Funny how life can take all your plans and put them through the power converters."
"AWOL? You?" Toridge shook her head. "I never would have thought it. And with a T'shav no less! How did that happen?"
"Long story," Tom interrupted. He had no desire for this pirate to have any of his personal information. "And we really should be on our way."
"You haven't even eaten anything," Toridge protested. "And I intend on having a long, long chat with my friend here."
"I'm on a musth fast," Tom lied. "Sara and I have business to attend to on one of the distant planets."
"Musth?" Toridge's eyes narrowed. "Sara, are you—"
"Relax. I've been with him for… what, a month now? Or has it been longer than that?" Sara thought a moment and shrugged. "It's been a while, anyway, and he's just started to enter into the musth, which he warned me about and offered to drop me off on a planet so I wouldn't have to deal with it."
"And you stayed?"
"I wanted to. We're good, you don't have to worry. But he's right. We do have some pretty urgent business that we need to take care of."
"Oh, it can wait for a few hours—"
A crash at the opposite side of the room drew everybody's attention. A Dibat stood there, a pile of dishes around his feet, staring at Tom. The T'shav rested his hand on the gun strapped to his thigh, tensing at the pure hostility radiating from the alien. All chatter died away.
"You," the Dibat said, pointing at Tom. "I know you!"
"I'm afraid I don't know you," Tom replied coolly. "Perhaps you have me mixed up with another T'shav."
The Dibat barked out a laugh. "I don't think so. We've never met, but I would know your face anywhere. The half-human T'shav… your father killed my father."
Tom's lips tightened. A pirate with a grudge. Great. This could not end well. His began drawing out his gun. "My father killed only those that deserved it."
"Deserved it?" The Dibat's voice rose. "Who decides what murder is righteous? My father was a soldier! But at least now I get to kill you, and your father will know the pain of—"
Tom whipped out his gun as the Dibat drew his own. A blaster shot rang through the room. Tom's weapon had not yet cleared the table. He looked around and found Sara on her feet, her blaster in both hands, pointed at the Dibat, a hard expression on her face.
The Dibat dropped, his corpse smoking.
Tom grabbed Sara's hand, pulling her back with him as he shielded her with his body, pointing his gun at Toridge as the captain drew her own weapon. Everybody jumped to their feet, guns pointed at them from every side. Adrenaline spiked. If he used the chair as a shield he might be able to get Sara out of here…
"Tom is my friend, Tori," Sara said. "Your Dibat was going to kill him, and I didn't hear you trying to diffuse the situation."
Toridge didn't look at Sara. She stared at Tom with unbridled fear on her face. "Perhaps it's because I was too surprised to find out who your companion is to stop Cli."
"How did you—" Sara stared.
"Cli told me who killed his father. You should have told me that you were traveling with a warlord's son, Sara. You should go. Now."
Keeping his mate behind him, Tom backed towards the doors, ignoring Sara's protests. He squeezed her hand, his heart pounding. When he was out on missions like this one, he had to keep his heritage a secret. He had risked too much by telling her his true name already–what if she thoughtlessly called him Tom instead of Bond in a public area? If the Ruziers Corporation found out his true identity… well, they would kill him without a second thought.
Toridge accompanied them down to the docks, where Tom's ship, dwarfed in comparison to the pirate's vessel, sat.
"I don't understand what's happening here," Sara said, shaking her head. "You're a deep-space pirate, no warlord is going to destroy you for hosting his son!"
"You really don't know who he is, do you?" Toridge glanced at Tom. "He's not just any warlord's son, he's—"
"I will explain everything on the ship," Tom interrupted.
Sara looked between the two of them, a bewildered expression on her face. "Why don't you want her to tell me?"
"It's complicated."
"Captain!" A crew member raced into the docking bays. He skidded to a stop before Toridge. "Captain, we're receiving a hails. It's Colonel Flanard of the USC."
"The USC?" Toridge turned furious eyes on Sara. "What's this, O'Neill? You pretend like you're AWOL and you're really bringing the USC down on us?"
Tom pointed his weapon at the captain, snarling. "If you threaten her, you die."
"It's not like that, Tori. Colonel Flanard? I don't even know who that is."
"He has a new H-class Clacston. We'd stand no chance against it," the crew member continued, as though the tension wasn't building to dangerous levels.
"Did the colonel say what he wants?" Toridge demanded, keeping an eye on Tom while she palmed her holstered gun. She didn’t draw it. Tom would shoot her.
"Yes, Sir." The crewmember looked at Sara and Tom. "He wants them. He wants them sent over in an escape pod and their ship released to his custody. He says that if you do as he says, he'll leave us alone."
The bottom of Tom's stomach dropped. What would a USC colonel possibly want with him and Sara? Was this a rescue mission, or something else? The pirate captain looked between the two of them and shrugged.
"Then we send them over. Ready an escape pod for them."
Chapter Nine: Sara
As soon as Sara and Tom were onboard, Flanard had Tom arrested. Sara braced herself, expecting a severe dressing-down before she, too, was thrown in the brig. The colonel was Aphrosian, deceptively slender-boned with skin the color of a robin's egg. They were among the strongest species in the galaxy, despite their lean frames. They also had a reputation of taking no nonsense. It was why Sara had picked the species to masquerade as.