Stephanie Vaughan

Off World: The Nature of Things

"Looking for someplace new to relax? Try Charlene's. We've got the
newest simmies and the strongest drinks this side of Bradbury City.
One of each and you'll think you're back home on Earth... minus the
death squads o' course, darlin'. Come on in and check us out --
you'll be glad you did yourself the favor."

Caleb eyed the barker standing outside the nightclub, with his bare
chiseled chest, satin short-shorts and miner's boots. The little black
hat that sat atop the man's curly black head was held on with a
strap that ran beneath his chin, framing the perfect oval of his face.
Dark olive skin contrasted with his flawless white smile, while a killer
set of dimples and sparkling black eyes that seduced without a word
made him worth every credit someone had no doubt paid to bring
him to Doradus.

"Maybe." Caleb gave the man a sidelong glance, letting his smile
make promises he had no intention of keeping. "So... what else have
you got?"

The stutter in the barker's patter was momentary - less than the
blink of an eye, really - but the spike in sexual energy was palpable
and Caleb knew he hadn't lost his touch. He didn't flex that
particular muscle very often, not this far from home. Sarhaan would
kick his ass if he caught him flirting, but tonight it was all part of the
fun.

"I get off in an hour." The man's smooth baritone dropped in both
pitch and volume as he spoke out of the side of his mouth. "Come
back in an hour and one minute and I'll show you."

The bulge in the guy's pants grew, if Caleb wasn't mistaken - and he
didn't think he was. He just winked at the
doomed-to-be-disappointed promoter and headed down the stairs
and into the new club.

Located in the area of Doradus known as the Pike, things down here
were a little rougher than the rest of the station. Doradus might be
on the ragged hairy edge of civilized space, but the outpost did
have its rules. But down in the Pike, well... station security didn't
often venture into the crowded rabbit warren of stalls, where
merchants hawked everything from black market bits of old Earth to
illicit drugs and synthetic blood. Seth Loftin, head of security for the
consortium of interests that operated the station, took a hands-off
approach to operations in this section. So long as the bloodshed
was minor and no one complained overly much, things were mostly
left to regulate themselves.

Caleb didn't have to step a second foot into Charlene's to know that
it wasn't much different than any of the other clubs that had sprung
up in the shadow of Durty Nelly's. Where Nelly's was high class all
the way, here the dim lighting and the neonelle tried hard to hide
the cut-rate construction materials and the watered drinks. The bar
was in the back for a change and the dancers weren't glassy-eyed
with fatigue yet, but the floor was covered in cheap gravel dust and
the decor was about as mundane as it was possible to be.

The clientele was the usual mixed bag of miners, spacers and locals,
with tonight's turnout favoring the grungy, anti-authority lot that
was the spacer crowd. As Caleb made his way back to the bar he
counted no less than a dozen of them lounging around in various
states of inebriation, their spiky haircuts giving them away -- even
if they'd been forced to temporarily to stow their weapons.

Elbowing his way to the bar, Caleb held up his credit chip with two
fingers, signalling the bartender. "A Cosmo, please." Wanting the
drink sooner rather than later, Caleb flashed a quick grin along with
the request.

"You got it."

"Why don't you let me pay for that?" Work-roughend fingers closed
over Caleb's.

The guy was big. Larger than most of the guys on his team; maybe
bigger even than Sarhaan. He was smiling down at Caleb like he'd
just found his next meal.

"No need." Caleb extracted his hand. "I can take care of myself,
thanks."

"Never said you couldn't. But I'm a friendly guy. I'd like us to be
friends." Close-cropped hair and gray, well worn jumpsuit would have
marked him as a spacer even without the look in the eyes. Guys
who took to the lifestyle were a particuarly hard-bitten bunch, with
an attitude of 'kill them all and let God sort out the details.' Caleb
had seen worse since joining up with the crew of the Vigilant, but
this guy was no pushover; he smiled and crowded closer into Caleb's
personal space.

"Friends are good, but I'm okay, thanks. I can pay for my own
drinks."

The bartender returned to take Caleb's chip and deliver the drink.
Caleb raised the glass to his lips, taste buds puckering in
anticipation when a beefy arm snaked around his waist, yanking him
backward and spilling most of the drink.

"I thought we agreed we'd meet up outside."

Oh, shit. Sarhaan.

"Hey." Sarhaan's hands were so big that, placed as they were, if he
spread his fingers a bit they could reach Caleb's dick. He craned his
neck a bit to try to see Sarhaan's face. Read his expression. It was
hopeless. Sarhaan had too tight a grip on him. "I... um.... did we? I
thought we said we'd meet inside."

"No."

Nothing more. Just the one word, solid as a wall and just as
immovable. "Oh. I, uh... guess I got it wrong."

"That isn't all you got wrong, m'toko kwa."

"Hey, yourself, buddy." The big spacer, momentarily forgotten,
pushed his way back in. This time his focus was all on Sarhaan. "I
don't know who the jama'a you think you are, but I was here first.
Trying to horn in before I so much as get a taste... that's just plain
bad manners, friend."

The air around them got suddenly still. The sound of his own
heartbeat pounded in Caleb's throat, his breathing harsh and
ragged.

"The fact that you didn't 'get a taste' -" Sarhaan's distaste was
thick on his tongue - "is the one thing that's keeping you alive right
now, my friend."

"Is that right?"

At that point, the spacer made what many would consider a poor
choice -- predictable, but ultimately flawwed -- and tried to
separate Caleb from Sarhaan.

Caleb winced for the guy as he saw it happening. Tied up as he was
by Sarhaan, though, there was nothing he could do. One instant the
three of them were talking, the next the stranger was on the
ground, out cold. The poor shmuck had barely lowered a shoulder
when Sarhaan took a step to the side, set Caleb out of the way,
and laid the guy out flat.

"I can't take you anywhere."

"Same goes for you." Sarhaan wasn't even out of breath. He just
stood there, a stubborn set to his jaw as he looked Caleb up and
down. "Where did you get those clothes?"

"Oh, do you like them?" Caleb had been more concerned with
checking to see whether or not security had been called and
forgotten all about his outfit. Interest in their little altercation
turned out to have been fleeting and most of the crowd had already
gone back to cruising each other, although they now gave Caleb
and Sarhaan a wider than usual berth.

"When did you start dressing like a pederast's wet dream?"

"What's wrong with them?" Caleb looked down at himself. "You have
no idea how long I had to hunt for these. Stuff like this doesn't
come along every day, you know. I spent months searching for just
the right pieces. I think I look good."

"Are those really pants, or are they just painted on? And that
shirt..."

"What about the it?" The fire in Sarhaan's eyes did things to Caleb
and had, from the first. Caleb draped his hand casually across the
lower ten or so centimeters of his belly, bared by the cropped white
shirt.

Sarhaan moved closer. "Where did you get it?"

"I bought it from Crazy John. It's authentic. Here... feel."

Sarhaan's hand went straight to the naked flesh of Caleb's waist,
pulling him close. "Mmm, you're right. That's nice. Makes you look
like you were waylaid on your way to school. Where's your book
bag, little boy?"

"I've been bad, headmaster. I... I lost it." Caleb looked contritely up
at Sarhaan through his lashes. "Will I be punished?"

Without missing a beat, Sarhaan stepped back, drawing himself up
to his full height and nodding, his expression very stern now. "You
know the way to my office, Master Adams."

"But... but..." Caleb pouted a little, before grinning slyly. He tried to
imbue his voice with just the right mix of innocence and
suggestiveness. "I could stay late and clean the erasers."

"Oh, no. There'll be no negotiating your way out of this one, young
man. I don't believe in sparing the rod." Sarhaan pointed toward the
club's public toilet and gave him a little shove. "Start walking."

"H-here?" The hesitation wasn't entirely faked. Caleb wasn't sure
how far Sarhaan intended to carry things.

"Not so brave now, are we? Hmm? Suddenly not so defiant." They
were inside the small room, with its twin urinals and single stall.
Sarhaan nodded in the direction of the stall. "In there."

"You're serious?"

"Just be thankful I'm not wearing a belt. I think a public strapping
might make you think twice."

"About what?!" Caleb's voice betrayed him, outrage morphing into a
shriek.

"How about flirting? Leading on strange men? Or didn't you think I'd
notice?"

"It was a joke. It was supposed to be fun. Like we were strangers
meeting for the first time. Don't you get it?"

Sarhaan picked him up, carried him bodily into the stall and dropped
him on his feet like a sack of potatoes. "Pull your pants down. We're
ending this right here and now."

That didn't sound good.

Sarahaan unfastened his own pants and pulled his cock out, all
twenty-five centimeters. Caleb knew, because he'd measured it
once in a fit of silliness. It was anything but silly now.

"Ending what?"

Evidently Caleb wasn't moving fast enough for Sarhaan, because he
unsnapped the fastener on Caleb's pants and yanked them down,
taking them down to Caleb's knees in a couple of moves.

"The speculation. The notion that you're available. I'd recommend
bracing yourself, by the way."

He couldn't see how he was supposed to, seeing as how Sarhaan
was positioning him with no more care than as if he'd been a
synthetic. Caleb had a brief moment to wonder at the club owners'
intentions when he discovered the handles set into the back of the
toilet. But only a moment, because he grabbed hold of them as soon
as Sarhaan thrust a finger up his ass.

"Nice. Expecting a little action up here? Huh? You're already lubed."

"I-" Caleb's attempt to explain was cut off as the finer was replaced
by the blunt head of Sarhaan's cock breaching Caleb's hole.
"Sarhaan, holy shit."

He was panting now as Sarhaan shoved himself half-way in.

"You still have the sweetest ass from here to Mars." Sarhaan
muttered softly in Caleb's ear, even as he grabbed hold of Caleb's
hips and thrust hard, burying himself to the hilt. "Khunvadi, but
that's nice."

"At least...o-h-h." Sarhaan pulled back and the outstroke was
always so lovely. Pushing back in with a grunt, Sarhaan had a grip
on Caleb's hips that would likely leave marks. "Could you at least
close the stall door?"

"Hell, no. That's the point. I don't want any doubt about the nature
of what's between you and me."

"Ah." Sarhaan was really working him now-the instrokes stuffing him
with a delicious feeling of fullness, while the outstrokes dragged
across every lasgt nerve ending he had. He'd been a little freaked
out at Sarhaan's outburst, but this... this was glorious, every time.

Being fucked by Sarhaan was simply the most ecstatic experience of
Caleb's life. Besides the physical pleasure, which was considerable,
the feelings it stirred him were what made it so much more than just
the act.

Caleb was moaning and sighing, pushing back to meet Sarhaan's
thrusts. So involved in what they were doing that the sounds of the
door opening and the low undercurrent of voices murmuring barely
registered. When Sarhaan released Caleb's hips to bend over him, to
reach around and grip Caleb's erect cock, the pleasure of it all built
until it boiled over, Caleb shooting his pleasure all over the back of
the porcelain fixture. Sarhaan mixed the roughest Kush profanity
with love words, his satisfaction bursting forth with the power of his
orgasm.

Forcing himself to focus, Caleb locked his knees to keep from
collapsing. Sarhaan braced an arm against the side of the stall while
the other stayed wrapped around Caleb's waist. When Sarhaam
eventually pulled out, he turned Caleb, enfolding him in his arms.
Kissing the top of Caleb's head, he relaxed, his breathing slowly
returning to normal.

As Caleb rested his head on Sarhaan's shoulder, he opened his eyes
lazily, noting that there were indeed several patrons standing about
watching. Waiting for use of the stall? Caleb didn't know and didn't
much care, but they didn't seem to mind the view of Sarhaan's bare,
muscular ass.

"Caleb, come on. It's time." Sarhaan's chest rumbled beneath Caleb's
ear as he spoke and Caleb smiled at the perfection of the moment.

"Time for what? Or do I want to know?" He angled his head for a
better look at Sarhaan's face, the power of his feelings
overwhelming him. He was so utterly, completely in love.

"Dancing, of course."

As they exited the room and made their way back to the bar, the
music shifted from a more energetic dance beat to a slower, almost
dreamy tune. Caleb had no idea how Sarhaan had managed it, but
there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Sarhaan had been the one
responsible.

He moved into Sarhaan's arms and once again rested his head on
Sarhaan's shoulder. "This is nice. But you couldn't have waited a
couple of minutes for me to clean up?"

"No. I couldn't. I needed you in my arms. Besides..." Sarhaan
dropped another kiss onto Caleb's head. "I wanted you exactly as
you are: messy hair, clothes askew and reeking of sex. You're
perfect."

"I thought you were mad."

"No. Just playing. I think."

Caleb glanced up at Sarhaan's gorgeous face. His eyes were closed,
but there was a smile on his face and Caleb knew what he'd see if
they were open.

END

© 2009, Stephanie Vaughan
All Rights Reserved