Off World 2: Sanctuary

by Stephanie Vaughn

  A little thrill of terror washed over Alex, but it was gone so quickly, that what remained felt like a shot of pure adrenalin. The scent of Sandy’s skin surrounded Alex, the intimate fragrance of the man floating up from the bed beneath them, earthy and sensuous. Grabbing Sandy’s arms for leverage, Alex squirmed, the thought of Sandy pressing his full weight down on Alex unexpectedly exciting.

  He was alone in Sandy’s suite, pinned down by a man half-again his own size -- so why wasn’t he terrified?

  Because it was Sandy, of course.

  Slowly, the leg pinning Alex shifted, until Sandy sat nearly astride Alex. With gradual, deliberate movements -- maintaining eye contact the whole time -- Sandy aligned their bodies so that their rapidly hardening dicks brushed. One slightly raised eyebrow seemed to ask permission and Alex’s body responded for him with a tentative wriggle of his hips.

  Just a tiny movement, really, but Alex was shocked. Shocked at himself and at Sandy, too, whose eyes sparked in response. A man like Sandy could have anyone he wanted; why was Sandy wasting time on someone like him?

  Alex let his gaze slide away from Sandy’s, to where his hands were inching their way up Sandy’s arms; feeling their way past the elbows and up to those impressive biceps. “I like your arms.”

  Stupid. God, how inane. But something about Sandy being on top of him like that, touching him, did things to Alex’s brain.

  “I like yours, too. All of you, in fact. So pretty.” Sandy smiled softly before lifting a hand to run a finger down Alex’s nose, and then drag it across Alex’s lower lip.

  A little dazed by the wonder of it all, Alex got positively swooney when Sandy shifted his hips a little and dragged his dick over Alex’s. So much so, that the swoosh of the door opening barely even registered with Alex’s overwhelmed senses.

  “Hey, chief! First cycle is finished. You wanna—? Whoa. Hey. Sorry, I guess not.”

  Chapter 8

  “I’m really sorry about…”

  Sandy took a few drops of water from the sample he’d drawn and dropped it onto the test cartridge. As he waited for the water to be drawn up into the chip’s various reservoirs, he listened to Naslund’s seventh or eighth fumbled apology with half an ear.

  “… that. I had no idea.”

  “Nas?” Sandy kept his gaze fixed on the test cartridge. He focused on plugging it into the tester unit, because if he didn’t he might have to kill Naslund. Wouldn’t want to. Wasn’t even sure a court would consider it murder, more like justifiable homicide.

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up.”

  “But, Chief—”

  Wrenching his gaze away from the test chip, he stared hard at Jacob Naslund’s hastily turned back. The smaller man had turned abruptly and begun wiping away the excess water from the outside casing of the system’s main bacteria culture chamber.

  “Right. Shutting up, Chief.”

  Sandy knew he was close to losing it. He’d had Alex in his arms, in his bed. They’d nearly had intimate, genital to genital contact. The feel of Alex’s tongue in his mouth, Alex’s taste on his lips -- it was all still there. God, he didn’t know how much more he could take before he snapped and did something that really freaked Alex out.

  This made the second time Sandy had been forced by work to tear himself away from Alex and he didn’t like it. Sandy’d never really been torn between duty and pleasure before. Although, what he felt for Alex didn’t seem so much like pleasure as naked, elemental need. He needed to be close; needed to be a part of Alex, like he needed for Alex to be a part of him.

  Uptake completed, Sandy ejected the test cartridge into the trash and plugged the tester into his mini comp to read the results. When the answering lights came up the right ratio of red to yellow, he judged that the cycling was progressing at an acceptable rate. The new strain of nitro-bacter he was culturing had come out of an experimental lab on 10-Hygiea, and the results so far had been beyond promising -- off-the-scale unbelievable was more like it. Both hardier and more efficient, it could handle a heavier load when converting nitrites to nitrates: about thirty percent more.

  Since the Vigilant hadn’t been designed to carry the size of crew they’d packed on to her when they’d fled Earth, it was a constant struggle to keep the life support systems from overloading and that had become the bane of Sandy’s existence. Something like a more efficient water filtration system could mean longer trips between servicing and, not coincidentally, more profit for their fledgling company.

  Sandy liked to eat, so profit was good.

  “Hey, Chief.”

  “Yeah?”

  Naslund stopped trying to pretend he was doing anything productive and leaned against the unit’s culture chamber, towel now swinging easily from his fingertips. “I’ve got a question.”

  Apparently Naslund had a bigger pair of stones than Sandy’d given him credit for. Sandy didn’t reply. Just narrowed his eyes in a look that said Nas had better tread carefully.

  “I was just going to ask what you thought of the idea of installing a meat vat. We’re going to be out of the Meal Ready Packs pretty soon. I was just thinking that if we could culture our own food on board ship it would, you know, solve a lot of problems.”

  Stomach rolling at just the thought, Sandy gave Nas points for improvisation. He’d opened his mouth to ask about Alex and probably only changed his mind at the look in Sandy’s eyes. “I’m not putting one in unless we have to. Yeah, it would solve some problems, but it would just bring a set of new ones along with it. And then there’s the smell.”

  “No, no, that’s a myth. They don’t smell at all -- I’ve been studying up on them.” Naslund’s pixie-like face lit up as he talked. “They’re really kind of fascinating. I mean, growing bovine muscle tissue from a matrix of—”

  “Fascinating. Oh, absolutely. I’ve got enough to deal with, without taking on any Frankenstein experiments. I’ve got engine nozzles to check. Life support needs to be cleaned -- and you know how much fun that is. There’s the entire outer hull to check for anything the deflectors missed. My dance card is sufficiently filled, thank you.”

  “Okay. It was just an idea.”

  “What?” Sandy glanced up in time to catch Naslund’s speculative gaze. “What’s that mean?”

  Nas tapped his fingers restlessly. “Nothing.”

  “Listen, I’m going to add a little more feedstock here, then go try to get some sleep. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check it again.” Gathering his test supplies, Sandy rose to his feet.

  “Should I see if Sutton can help me get started on life support?”

  “Yeah, that’d be good. I’ll see you later -- about oh-five-hundred?”

  “Will do.”

  Sandy left, resisting the urge to jog back to his quarters, compromising with himself by holding it to a brisk walk. Once outside his quarters, Sandy paused to take a deep breath before entering the darkened room.

  Gaze sweeping the room, Sandy passed over the empty bed, finally locating Alex in the corner in one of Sandy’s jumbo-sized armchairs. Slumped sideways, neck bent at an awkward angle, Alex dozed. Sandy stifled the impulse to wrap his arms around the sleeping figure, opting instead to call from the safety of the doorway.

  “Alex. Hey, Alex.”

  Alex’s head jerked around, seeking the source of the noise, his expression relaxing once he located it. “Hey. Hi. Did I fall asleep? I’m sorry.”

  Sandy stepped forward, allowing the door to close behind him, and approached the chair. Squatting down, he ran two fingers up Alex’s forearm, Alex’s long-sleeved shirt uncharacteristically unbuttoned at the wrists. “What are you doing in the chair? The bed’s a little more comfortable.”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re probably right. I didn’t… I mean, I thought about it. But I forgot to ask and I didn’t know if it would be okay. This is fine, really.”

  Unable to resist, Sandy raised his other hand, so that both hands rested on Alex’s arms. He stroked lightly, savoring
the feel of warm skin and soft hair under his fingertips. Aware that he risked tipping his hand, showing too much, Sandy fought the desire to touch more completely, to kiss, to press their bodies close.

  Nodding in the direction of the bed, Sandy took a risk. “Want to come lie down with me? I’ve got a little break and I’m gonna to try to catch some sleep.”

  There were dark circles of fatigue under Alex’s eyes, and small creases on his skin bore mute testimony to where his face had lain pressed against the chair back. “Yeah. I’d like that.” A small smile played around the edges of his mouth. “You know, I slept the best I have in a long time with you, the other night.”

  Standing, Sandy covered the rush of emotion Alex’s confession raised in him by letting his hands slide down to grip Alex’s, pulling Alex to his feet. “Come on.”

  Sandy led the way to the bed, his blood flowing steadily south, hardening his dick the whole time. If he thought there was a hope in hell of hiding it he’d willingly suffer in silence, but there was no way Alex could miss the hard-on burgeoning in Sandy’s pants. Gathering Alex to him, Sandy tried to leave a little room between his cock and Alex’s ass as they spooned.

  “Sandy?”

  Why did the voice automatically drop to a whisper in the dark? Even though this was only semi-darkness, Alex’s voice instinctively softened. Some remnant of tribe behavior from a more primitive time, probably. Sandy didn’t know. “Yeah?” Having Alex in his arms was amazing. It was astonishing how something so simple could be so intensely satisfying.

  “I like being here with you.”

  Sandy took another deep breath, the heat in his dick now matched by a more general warmth flowing through his entire being. “Me, too.”

  “I feel safe.”

  There was a lump in Sandy’s throat now, keeping him from choking out more than a word or two. “Thanks.”

  “That probably sounds stupid, huh?”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “I’m really glad you’re my friend.”

  “Me, too.” Sandy spoke to the top of Alex’s head, Alex tucked up against his body, his lips brushing Alex’s hair with each word.

  “Sandy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I can feel your hard-on.”

  “Yeah, I bet. Hey, sorry about that.” Time for some direct communication, maybe. “Look, Alex, I can’t control that I get one when I’m around you, but I can control what I do about it. We can both go to sleep and nothing will happen. I promise.”

  Alex toyed with Sandy’s hand where it rested, draped lightly across Alex’s stomach. Just the thought of pressing on Alex’s abdomen, maybe letting his hand stray down to cradle Alex’s dick, while he pressed his aching cock against the crack of Alex’s ass made Sandy’s whole body quiver.

  “Sandy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s not a problem. In fact, I’d kind of like to… Could I see it? If that’s okay?”

  Oh, fuck. What now, genius?

  Sandy’s hips flexed instinctively, arching forward at Alex’s statement. He could control himself. He could do this. He could. “Sure.” Rolling away, Sandy lay on his back in the darkened room. He still wore what served as his work uniform most days: a snug knit shirt and black BDUs, complete with regulation issue Teflar boots.

  Alex turned to face Sandy, kneeling up, hands braced on his knees and reached with one tentative hand before hesitating. “Can I… is it okay if I… can I touch?”

  Concentrating on controlling his breathing, Sandy tried to relax his jaw. “Okay.”

  The hovering hand dipped to the hem of Sandy’s shirt, pushing it slowly up Sandy’s body to bare his belly. Switching hands, Alex held the shirt out of the way while his fingers traced the tattoo that covered one half of Sandy’s torso. “This is so amazing. This has significance, I’m sure.” The feather light touch of Alex’s fingers was torture; it lit fires beneath his skin and made Sandy long to grab the hand and shove it down his pants, where it belonged.

  “It’s a pe’a -- traditional Samoan tattoo.”

  “This is incredible.” Alex rose to his knees, shoving the shirt up further, raising Sandy’s arms over his head to remove it entirely. That his movements brought his crotch up to eye-level for Sandy was just more pain. “Oh, wow.”

  Although he’d lived with it since puberty and Sandy knew what his tattoo looked like, it gave him a feeling he couldn’t quite name to experience it through Alex’s eyes.

  Alex raised his gaze to Sandy’s, eyes alight. “Did it hurt?”

  Memories of the exact sensation had faded, but Sandy recalled the stick he’d gripped in his teeth and the cloth he’d twisted between his hands when the pain had been at its most intense as the tufuga applied it.

  “Little bit.”

  “How long did it take?” Alex was pouring over each of the different designs now, tracing the inverted triangles that represented sharks’ teeth and strength; running a delicate finger over the half-circles topped by triangles symbolizing adversity; and the more intricate combinations that stood for frigate birds, or people holding hands in unity.

  “About three months.”

  “Every day? For three months? What does it mean? How far down does it go? Can I see?”

  Determined hands were unsnapping Sandy’s pants, hooking clever fingers in the waistband and peeling them back, underwear and all.

  “No, not every day; some days I had to heal in between. I did it to show that I honor my Samoan heritage. That I’m part of the community; that I suffered for my people.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s… It’s so pretty. Is that okay? Can I say it’s pretty?”

  Alex hand worked Sandy’s pants open and Sandy willingly lifted his hips to allow Alex to drag the clothing down his body, freeing his rigid cock. Sandy wasn’t sure what Alex was calling pretty and he didn’t much care. He was half-naked and Alex’s hands were on him and that was all he needed to know.

  ***

  Alex was pretty sure there must be a special place in hell for people who shamelessly took advantage of other people who were only trying to help them out, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Big, gorgeous Sandy was laid out in front of his eyes and was letting him do pretty much whatever. The only problem was that Alex wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted.

  All of that beautiful, reddish-brown skin was so much more attractive than his own pale, fishbelly white. And those muscles. Oh, my. Alex ran his hands up Sandy’s chest, testing the resilience of smooth skin over firm muscle. Letting them slide back down, Alex gave an experimental flick over Sandy’s nipples and smiled to himself a little when Sandy reacted.

  From his vantage point astride Sandy’s legs, there was beautiful naked man as far as his eyes could see. This warrior, this man of honor, this stunning example of everything masculine that was good, had somehow fallen into Alex’s life. For once fate had done something decent for him and there was no way he was going to ask questions -- take the chance on missing out by second-guessing the why of it.

  “Sandy?”

  Eyes closed, nostrils flaring with the slow, deliberate breaths he drew, Sandy didn’t answer. Alex wasn’t sure he’d even heard. It slowly dawned on Alex that maybe Sandy was doing what Alex used to do, and going away to somewhere in his mind; somewhere where what was happening to his body wasn’t happening to his mind. Alex should stop.

  He tried more urgently. “Sandy!”

  No response. Just a slow breath in, then out.

  Oh, crap. What should he do? What would he have wanted someone to do when he’d been in that position? Stop, of course, so he did. Alex carefully withdrew his hands and placed them on his own thighs.

  He could still look, though, and he studied Sandy’s body. Tried to, anyway. The skin he still wanted to touch some more. Maybe even sample. He’d had small tastes of Sandy’s mouth, but his skin, with its pleasantly clean, musky scent of healthy male drew Alex. How weird was that? He wanted to press a finger into the broad expanse above Sandy
’s nipples, make a small indentation, then watch it spring back.

  He’d like to trace a finger along Sandy’s high forehead, where it gave way to the hairline. Alex wanted to get really close and examine Sandy’s thin, perfectly arched eyebrows. Could they possibly be natural? Sandy didn’t strike him as the type to indulge in excessive personal grooming, but how else could you explain them? They were nothing like Alex’s own unruly messes.

  Maybe because he was concentrating on the area, Alex spotted the minute fluttering of Sandy’s eyelids immediately. They blinked rapidly and sprang open. “What are you doing?”