Apollo moaned softly with pleasure as Starbuck's fingernails raked gently across that spot on his shoulder blade he hadn't even known about before tonight. Wordless still, all he could do was moan. The rational part of his mind had given up long ago, and now was sitting with its back to the door shaking its head and muttering. Apollo couldn't have cared less. Not as long as Starbuck was riding him, making sounds of pleasure even softer than Apollo's moans but loud enough drive Apollo mad.
It was all so different from how it had been supposed to go...
two centares earlier...
Starbuck slammed into the wall of the Triad court about two microns later than the ball, which went ricocheting off. "For gods' sakes, Apollo," he said, slumping against the wall. "You're killing me. I'm done."
"You're not done," Apollo insisted. "You've missed that shot three times now."
"And I'm gonna keep on missing it," Starbuck said. "We've been out here for three centares. I'm beat. I'm quitting." He headed for the showers.
Apollo followed. They had been alone for nearly a centare. He'd signed for the court and the complex keycard from the corporal on duty, telling him they were going to be late, precisely because he wanted them to be the only ones left. Now he said, "If you didn't spend all your time with Athena, you'd be in better shape."
"I knew you had green eyes for a reason," Starbuck said with a chuckle. "Honestly, though, don't you remember what Kase said?"
The legendary coach of the Caprican teams that had won the Systems Championships time and again had said many things, but Apollo couldn't recall anything apropos, and he said so.
"It's not being with a woman tires a player out," quoted Starbuck, "it's staying up all night looking for one..."
Apollo was barely paying attention. While Starbuck was stripping off his practice gear and getting into the shower, Apollo was pulling towels out of the locker and tossing them onto a handy floor mat. Then he opened the door to the shower and stepped into the cubicle with Starbuck.
"Apollo?" the blond said in blank surprise. "What are you--" He broke off as Apollo, glad for the knee pads, answered the question by demonstrating. As Apollo licked the wet cock, which began to stiffen quickly enough to justify half of Starbuck's stories, the blond sighed and moved his feet to better accommodate the unexpected event and buried one hand in the dark hair. He braced himself on the wall of the cubicle with the other and said, "Gods, that's good... yes" as Apollo went down on him.
Apollo worked him hard, taking as much of his straining length into his mouth as he could and massaging his balls with one hand. It wasn't long before Starbuck came, hard enough to almost trigger Apollo's gag reflex; he controlled it and swallowed, milking Starbuck as he did. Then, while the blond was still out of it, he moved to phase two, sweeping him up in his arms and depositing him on the towels just outside.
It was then that things started to go wrong. Apollo meant to take Starbuck, nail him all the way through the mat to the steel deck underneath. But while he was still pulling off the bits of practice gear that would have hampered him, he felt the blond man's hands on his body, helping, and before he knew what had happened, he was completely naked and on his back, with Starbuck leaning over him, those blue eyes blazing like a nuclear inferno, hazy with desire...
Starbuck kissed him, and he'd never been so thoroughly kissed in his life. Starbuck's tongue practically checked out his tonsils, and his hands were everywhere. Then that hot mouth moved downwards, licking and sucking on his throat and moving one hand off a nipple to suckle and nibble and tease while the displaced hand found Apollo's throbbing cock and tormented it with feather-light touches. Apollo found himself unable to say anything coherent; Starbuck seemed to understand his moans, though, and left his nipple to take Apollo's cock in his own mouth.
His rational mind tried, for a few microns, to take notes on the technique, and then gave up. The rest of him had given up long ago. Starbuck didn't seem to have a gag reflex; he took all of Apollo time and again, and every now and then the tiniest, maybe inadvertent, graze of teeth along the sensitive underside made Apollo moan more loudly and thrust to meet the new center of his universe. When he came, it was an explosion of light and sensation like he'd never known before, and he almost lost consciousness.
When he came back to reality, he found himself in a position entirely new to him. He was still on his back, but his hips were resting on Starbuck's thighs with his legs spread and one of his knees caught in Starbuck's elbow. Starbuck had found the little tube of lubricant Apollo had laid down on the towels, and as Apollo watched, he squeezed some out onto his right hand. Another new thing: the feeling as Starbuck's finger found his ass and then slid inside.
Apollo's rational mind began screaming 'no' but the rest of his mind shoved that part into a small corner room and locked the door and joined his body in the sensation the invading digit evoked, especially when Starbuck twisted it and then found the prostate gland. Apollo moaned, arching his back and clenching his hands on the towels under him. Starbuck chuckled slightly and withdrew the finger; Apollo moaned again, this time in need, and Starbuck responded by entering him again, this time with two fingers, twisting, stroking, and scissoring. Apollo tossed his head from side to side, thrusting his hips. He could feel Starbuck's cock, astoundingly erect again (most of his stories...), nudging his buttocks. He moaned again.
Starbuck laughed with delight. "Gods, who'd have thought you were such a wanton?"
Wanton. Apollo accepted that with some astonishment. Emphasis on 'want', though he knew that wasn't what the word meant. He found a word, finally. "Now," he said, "now," and then, because his voice was so hoarse he was afraid it might sound like 'no' he managed, "Yes. Yes, now."
Starbuck accepted that he knew what he wanted and pulled his fingers out, spreading Apollo's thighs on his and bringing the head of his cock up to Apollo's opening. He pushed forward slightly, penetrating and then pausing. "Okay?" he asked.
"Yes," Apollo said, still only able to manage two words. "Now..." His rational mind was now beating its fists on the door and screaming, remembering what listening to others' 'now' had done to them, but Apollo wanted Starbuck inside him so badly he didn't care if it hurt. "Now," he said again, thrusting his hips as well as the position would let him.
Starbuck took hold of his thighs and pushed. There was a moment of pain, intense beyond belief, that, as Apollo's body accepted and yielded entry, transmuted into something that was almost beyond pleasure. The blond wasn't any longer than he was, but now he seemed hung like an equine. Apollo kept thinking that surely now Starbuck was all the way in and yet there was more. Then, finally, he felt Starbuck's balls nudge his inner thighs and knew the blond was completely lodged. But he only rested there a moment before withdrawing nearly all the way and then beginning to pump.
Apollo lost his words again. All he could do was moan. Starbuck's body arched back from his, his tawny hair wet and tangled around his face and his eyes blazing until he shut them, his head thrown back and the lines of his throat long and pure in the harsh lights of the locker room. When he came, Starbuck cried out softly, stretching the last syllable of Apollo's name into a near howl of completion.
Starbuck withdrew, leaving Apollo feeling empty. He reached for Starbuck, trying to prevent him from leaving, and the blond chuckled again and snuggled up behind him. "And a cuddler," he murmured against Apollo's shoulder. "Who'd have thought it?" He reached for one of the towels and added, "This, now, forethought. This I'd have believed."
Apollo reached up and clung to the one arm Starbuck still had around him. He was still dazed, unable to think clearly. This was probably because he still had his rational mind locked up, but he didn't want to let it out. Right now he didn't want anything. Or almost. He wanted Starbuck to stay forever.
"Not a talker, though," Starbuck said with a swift kiss on the shoulder. "Okay. I can do quiet."
Apollo wished he could manage to say 'who'd have thought it?'. All he could get out, though, was a sound, long and pleased. It seemed to be enough, though; Starbuck's hand began making little circles on his ribs and drifting down along his belly. After a while, Apollo felt his own cock responding to the other man's nearness; it had a been a long time since he'd tried for a second time in an encounter but it looked like, though he might not rival Starbuck's powers, he'd had enough rest. Since he still couldn't manage words, he let go of Starbuck's arm and pulled his hand to his cock, as a hint.
Starbuck nuzzled his shoulder and stroked his cock. "Again?" he asked. "Okay." With a quick movement, he rose to his knees, bringing Apollo with him. He nudged his knees between Apollo's and Apollo felt his cock pushing against his ass. All of his stories.... He'd thought you needed to be closer to a wall to do this, but apparently not. Starbuck wrapped his left arm around Apollo, holding him close and supporting him. He laid his head back against Starbuck's shoulder.
Starbuck turned his head and kissed him, his tongue delving deep even as he pushed inside Apollo's ass. His right hand was closed around Apollo's cock and his left one gently pinched Apollo's swollen nipple. And it was at that precise moment, surrounded by Starbuck, filled by him, that Apollo died. Not physically, no; physically he was once again being lifted to something he could only name by falling back on clichés like heights of ecstasy. But inside him, something crucial shivered and splintered, shattering into a million pieces that could never even be gathered together let alone mended. Apollo was vaguely aware of it as it happened, but he didn't care. What he was noticing was Starbuck's cock pushing into his ass, hitting his prostate, and Starbuck's hand stroking his cock, bringing him to the edge and then pulling him back.
Moaning again, he found himself thrusting forward, and then rocking back and forth between Starbuck's hand and cock. As he went backwards, driving Starbuck's cock deeper inside himself, he heard the blond making panting sounds of pleasure that excited him even more. Time stretched or vanished or something; at any rate, the universe had collapsed to Starbuck's body and what it was doing to his own. He came first, crying out and shuddering so hard that Starbuck lost his grip on him. Apollo fell forward, feeling Starbuck's hand slide from his cock to his hip. He leaned on his forearms, raising his hips higher so that Starbuck had easier access.
In its last bid for attention, the rational part of his mind told him he should have listened to his mother, and then it turned its back to the door of the little room it was locked in and began muttering. Apollo didn't miss it one bit.
Not while Starbuck rode him, driving slowly after his earlier exertions but possessing him completely. Not while he could hear Starbuck's gasps of pleasure. Not while Starbuck's hand raked over his back again, finding those spots that only Starbuck had ever had the chance to find. Not while every nerve in his body sang Starbuck's name...
Starbuck came finally, this time with a cry as wordless as Apollo's. But after a few centons of lying together on the towels, Starbuck got to his feet. "Whew," he said. "Make that, wow. But I've got a late dinner date on the Star, and I can just make the shuttle if I hurry." He vanished into the showers.
Apollo lay on the towels, feeling empty and cold and very alien. He was vaguely aware that he was also very sore, but mostly he just felt lost. He wasn't at all sure what was going to happen next. He wasn't sure if he cared much.
After a short time, Starbuck--master of the quick-shower-and-change--came out. "Hey," he said, "you okay?"
"Yes," Apollo lied, and sat up to prove it. Words had returned, so he used them. "I feel great. I'm just tired."
Starbuck, who actually seemed energized--yes, indeed; every one of his stories--grinned at him. "Piece of advice: go home before you crash. You don't want to be explaining this to that corporal in the morning." He touched Apollo's hair gently. "This was great, buddy. You should have made a move yahrens ago."
Then, whistling, he was gone.
Apollo sat there for a few centons more, and then struggled to his feet and into the shower. He was sore, walking around tomorrow was going to be not much fun. But it was worth it. Definitely worth it. But he didn't know what had happened, or what was going to happen. All he knew was, he had meant to sweep into Starbuck's life, nail him and assert his dominance, and the only thing that had been asserted here tonight was that he belonged to Starbuck, body and soul. That Starbuck could do with him whatever he wanted. Whenever he wanted. Whether it was pheremones, or enchantment, or mind control, or love, he didn't know. He only knew that Starbuck could have his way with him... and that he wanted only to please Starbuck.
He dressed slowly and carefully and made his way to his quarters. He was grateful that he was the Strike Captain, that he had his own place, that he didn't have to negotiate the Bachelor Officers' Barracks in this shape, physical or mental. He had no idea what was going to happen in the future. Starbuck hadn't been profoundly changed by this evening, that was clear, or else he wouldn't have been running to catch the shuttle to the support station's bar and his date. It was only him...
And as he climbed into bed, he heard his mother's voice as clearly as if she'd been on the battlestar with him, and not light-yahrens away on Caprica. "Apollo, I swear to God, if I brought home a poisonous snake you'd fight to be bitten first. Why do you always have to take what belongs to your sister?"
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