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The decision to spend an evening on a nearby pleasure planet hadn’t been Avon’s, or Blake’s, or even, surprisingly, Vila’s. In fact, the reason why the ex-Scorpio crew was now jammed into a booth in a space disco on Sirrios-9 could be laid firmly at the feet of none other than Blake’s righthand man Deva. After twelve busy weeks, the incident in their original base on Gauda Prime was but a memory, fading as quickly as the low-voltage energy scars on their bodies. With the new base now established and functioning as smoothly as could be managed, there was time for their crew to rest and relax. And they needed it. After hasty reconciliations, Blake and Avon had been butting heads like old times, while the rest of the crew were wandering the base and getting underfoot of operations like a litter of particularly meddlesome cats. More to the point, now that the immediate danger had passed, a different storm seemed to be brewing between Blake and Avon, the nature of which was becoming as uncomfortably apparent as the unresolved sexual tension that clogged up whatever room the two men happened to be in. Deva hadn’t asked, but it didn’t take a genius to work out that whatever was going on between them had something to do with a relationship turned sour and perhaps an old flame still kindled on one or both sides.

At his wit’s end, Deva had tersely suggested a short trip off-world would do them all some good (himself included), and the crew should take their pig-headed leader with them. When they finally left, Deva breathed a sigh of relief – the base was quiet for the first time in weeks.


Now with no choice but to drink with each other for the next day- and night-cycle, Avon’s chance to corner Blake had practically been laid in his lap. Without any real work to cry off to, Blake couldn’t run away from Avon’s attempts to speak as he had been doing on GP. But, somewhere in the twelve weeks of rejection, Avon had found that ship had sailed on the tailwind of so many rejections and he wanted nothing to do with their Fearless Leader anymore. This was why, when he found himself crammed into the booth beside Blake, he was positively fuming. Avon tried his hardest not to let his leg rub up against the burly thigh beside him. Instead, he practically draped himself over Tarrant, earning some questioning sidelong glances from Blake (although he couldn’t be quite sure whether Blake could actually see what was happening through his injured eye).

After about three drinks, when Avon sidled up to Tarrant yet again, the younger man burst out laughing and drew attention to the very situation Avon was trying to downplay.

“Get off me, Avon! I’ll move over, alright?” Tarrant chuckled with irritating bonhomie and wandered off to the bar under the promise of returning with a fresh round for the table.

Relieved beyond measure, Avon buried his face in his glass and nursed the rest of his drink. If he didn’t resurface, he could ignore the six foot of rebel chatting away animatedly beside him.


Tarrant came back to the booth slowly, turning around at every other step to flash a dazzling smile at some girls who were trailing him across the dancefloor and giggling.

“Tarrant, either take your new friends onto the dancefloor or sit down,” Avon called out over the loud music and beckoned the pilot over, very much ready for the new drink he plucked from Tarrant’s tray.

“Why don’t you share your ladies with Avon? He could use a bit of company,” Soolin smiled coolly as she reached for the drink Tarrant slid towards her. Avon glared back.

“I am already surrounded by sub-standard company without more people filling this booth.”

“Besides, they’re shapeshifters too,” Tarrant added with a shrug and waved the girls off.

“And you were going to hand me over to them?”

“Well Avon, you know what they say about shapeshifters; they could be anyone you want them to be…” His eyes wandered obviously over to Blake who was, mercifully, not paying attention.

“Tarrant, sit down!” Dayna reached across to tug Tarrant’s hand down and he obligingly sank into his place on the other side of the booth, the matter at hand forgotten entirely.

“Alright, Dayna, I’m sitting. I’m here. Now – are you going to make it worth my while?”

Dayna smiled wickedly, her white teeth radiant in the dark club. She chuckled.

“I will. How about a game? It’s called ‘Never Have I Ever’.”

“Never have I ever what?” Tarrant took the bait.

“One person says ‘Never have I ever’ and gives an example of something they’ve never done. Anyone who has done the thing they say takes a drink, and if anyone lies about anything, they have to drink as well.”

Tarrant flashed his teeth, recognising the delicious potential of the game.

“Well, considering the kind of people I’m playing with-”

“You’ll be blind before you know it…” Vila smirked around his drink.

“With a compulsive liar like you-” Tarrant cocked his head towards Vila and he cried indignantly.


“Come on - you go first, Vila!” Dayna laughed, kicking out at Vila from across their little huddle, and the thief yelped playfully.

“Alright alright! Never have I ever broken into another person’s cabin.”

Roars sounded from everyone around him.

“That’s not true at all, Vila – drink!” Dayna cried, and Tarrant pushed Vila’s glass towards his face while Blake and Avon reeled off the many times Vila had broken into their cabins. Soolin sat smirking languidly, sipping at her drink regardless.

“He’s got to drink if he lies!” Dayna crooned, and Vila dutifully took a sip of his A&S, looking smugly like he’d wanted the excuse to drink.  

“Fine then; if you think you know everything already, you go. Never have I ever…” he prompted the young girl beside him and Dayna smirked from across the rim of her glass, giggling.

“Never have I ever cheated honest people out of their hard-earned credits.”

A chorus of ‘ooh’s sounded around the group and Vila looked gutted.

“That’s a low blow!” he took a swig of his drink and looked across at Avon. “You too old man, drink up!”

“They weren’t honest people,” Avon countered but took a generous mouthful of his drink regardless. Beside him, Tarrant took a half-hearted sip as if he didn’t really believe in his own culpability. Avon made a mental note to chase that particular story up with the pilot later.

“Soolin!” Tarrant piped up once he had swallowed his drink. Soolin rested her glass against her knee and circled her foot as she surveyed those before her. The gunfighter looked as if she were completely sober, and when she caught Avon’s eye, he was suddenly unnerved. What the hell are you thinking, Soolin? Avon thought.

“Never have I ever kissed Tarrant,” she said, turning to look at Dayna at the last moment. Avon cursed the girl under his breath. He’d had too much to drink and was getting jumpy. Leaning back, Avon was happy to hide from the attention while Dayna and Vila took drinks and Soolin and Blake chuckled. When the laughter had died down, Soolin nodded towards Blake. Their leader managed a smile that reached his eyes despite the scar.

“Never have I ever had sex onboard Scorpio.”

There was laughter this time and blushing all round as eyes flickered inadvertently towards guilty parties, and shocked giggles were muffled behind extended gulps of A&S and alcohol. But through the laughter, Blake’s good eye had fixed on the man next to him. Avon hadn’t taken a drink and that knowledge had visibly heartened and hurt Blake both in one go.

You calculating bastard, Avon all but spat in his mind, and he scowled back at Blake in a way that he hoped gave nothing away but anger. But, as usual, Blake could see right through him. Avon didn’t quite know what he expected Blake to say when the man finally spoke, but “your turn” was certainly not it. Avon's expression betrayed his shock, and he momentarily forgot his anger as four other eager drunks stared at him.

“Come on, Av’n! I bet you’ve been stewing on a doozy this whole time. Out with it!” Vila leaned forwards on his knees and looked up expectantly. Avon turned a viciously smug grin on Blake. Oh, I’ll play your game, Blake.

“Never have I ever been handcuffed naked to the flight controls.”

All hell broke loose.

Dayna nearly choked, Soolin spilled her drink, and Tarrant and Vila were wheezing when Blake reluctantly raised his drink to his lips, eyes burning into Avon’s as if he wanted to vapourise the man. Avon never let the smile drop from his face, but he raised his right eyebrow where the others couldn’t see it. Your move.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on!” Dayna gasped, a hand thrown out towards Blake as she tried to control herself long enough to speak. “You’re the only one who drank; you have to tell us how it happened!”

What?” Avon and Blake said in unison, and Soolin flashed a dangerous smile while she plucked Dayna’s shaking drink from her hands.

“You heard the girl.”

“Tarrant, your go,” Avon turned to his left and tried to push the young man on, ignoring the pleas of the others in the group. At the same time, Blake tried to escape but couldn’t get past the girls and out of the booth.

“Come on Blake! You have to be drunk enough to tell us by now!” Vila waved his nearly-empty glass up at Blake and suppressed a hiccough. “Tell us how you were handcuffed starkers on the flight deck!” he roared. Tears fell down his cheeks as he leaned into Dayna and was promptly pushed away. Blake turned to Avon and, through the din of the club, yelled down at him.

“You’ll pay for that, Avon,” he threatened and turned back to the group, not caring whether the others had heard him or not. Strangely enough, it wasn’t until he’d stood and tried to walk that he realised just how drunk he’d become, and the honest streak that usually governed Blake (and thus had gotten him into this mess) suddenly disappeared as he realised he could effectively lie and the others would eat it up. “Avon tied me up.” Serves you right.

This time, Vila really did choke, and the girls beside him had red faces while Tarrant had balled his hand into a fist and shoved it into his mouth in a vain attempt to stop himself from losing it all together; he was all too aware of Avon sitting beside him in the booth and, as deliciously saucy as the game had become, he didn’t want to run the risk of becoming a target for Avon’s wrath. With his eyes closed, however, Tarrant didn’t see that Avon had shot up to his feet and was chest to chest with Blake in the centre of their booth.

“How dare you-” Avon hissed at Blake, but the other man tried his hardest to act unaffected, gulping down his still very-full A&S while looking Avon dead in the eye. Blake slammed the glass back to the table. When he stepped closer, Avon couldn’t do much to push back; with Tarrant behind him, he could stand his ground and be pressed against Blake, return to his seat meekly, or fall into Tarrant’s lap. Unfortunately, the liquor that had loosened his tongue had also dulled his wit, and lacking a biting comeback, Avon dropped back to his seat. Surprisingly, when he sat he found there was more room than he’d expected and he slid rather gracelessly off the edge of the booth (Tarrant having vacated his seat in haste, seeing the imminent punches flying). As Avon righted himself with as much dignity as he could muster, Blake pushed past him and disappeared into the crowd. Avon followed without another red-faced glance to the others at the table.

“Tarrant, your turn. Top that!” Vila yelled to the delighted squeals of Dayna, and the whole incident was quickly forgotten by the others.


Avon found Blake several minutes later, perched at the end of the bar by the bathrooms, two empty shot glasses in front of him and a third just passing over his lips. Avon stumbled and hid behind a rather large couple further along the bar, slumping against the wet bar top and breathing heavily. Now he’d stood up and run about, he realised he was a lot drunker than he’d thought. How many had he had? Four? There had been an adrenaline and soma or two as well, and as much as he knew not to mix those vices… well… Avon doubted he’d have played along with Dayna’s stupid little game if he hadn’t mixed drinks somewhere during the night. Avon swallowed hard and ordered a water when the bar tender drifted past. Sliding himself precariously onto the stool behind him, he took a few good mouthfuls and breathed hard to clear his head, making a pointed effort not to look to his right.

Blake started it, he reasoned to himself. He’d never have struck such a low blow in front of their crew normally, but he’d been pent up for months, years even. Ever since their reuniting on Gauda Prime, Avon had been yearning, and Blake had seemed wholly disinterested in him. What they’d had once, all that time ago aboard the Liberator, seemed like it had been wiped from Blake’s mind. Didn’t he realise how much Avon missed him? He shook his head when, as usual, no answer came to mind. He’s not going to make the first move, another voice inside Avon’s head spoke (never mind Blake’s unsubtle probe into his life on Scorpio). The man knew Avon had been celibate since then! He wasn’t stupid; Blake probably realised he’d had nothing but a few filthy, unsatisfying fist-fucks with himself on Liberator too, after Star One. It just hadn’t been the same, and for all the touching he’d done to himself, he’d never come close to relief, and so eventually Avon had stopped trying to satisfy himself all together. The first few weeks had been hard (literally), and the blue balls he’d suffered through were agonising (he’d given up a few times in the beginning, cumming to the memory of the man bound naked on the flight deck), but in the end it had achieved nothing and Avon had realised his energy would be much better spent looking for Blake rather than cumming for him. And now they were together, the prick didn’t seem to want to acknowledge their old understanding at all. Surely he’s bursting for it, Avon thought with a twinge in his groin, and despite the despair he’d sunk into, he managed a wicked grin. Oh, yes…

Avon glanced back over at the far end of the bar and was gratified to see Blake downing a large glass of water. His Adam’s apple bobbed enticingly as he gulped and Avon’s teeth itched with the urge to bite it. That’s it Blake, drink. Avon finished his own glass of water in one more mouthful, grateful for the refreshing clarity it brought. He was still undoubtedly drunk, evidenced by the intentions running through his head as he slipped from the bar stool, but the water had given him the headspace he needed… and the idea. It was something Avon had never dared bring up, not back on the Liberator. But now… Avon was angry; he wanted Blake, and he wanted him his way and now. Armed with another full pint glass of cold water, Avon weaved his way around to the bar and inserted himself between Blake and the room at large.

“That was vindictive,” Blake slurred out, and he swallowed a hiccough as he looked at Avon’s full glass of water with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, it was. But I wasn’t the one who asked if you’d had sex since I left you,” Avon challenged, and Blake nodded an embarrassed affirmation. Avon continued. “I’ve missed you Blake; I’ve missed your body, your lips on mine, your cock in my arse-” Blake jumped on Avon then, silencing the man with a theatrical hand over his mouth, sloshing Avon’s water across the ground.

“Avon, please!” Blake’s eye was wide as he looked around, but the music and noise in the club meant no one had heard (and if they had, judging by the clientele, they probably wouldn’t have batted an eyelid). This was the reaction Avon was going for, and he smirked against Blake’s palm, giving the soft warm skin a lick that made Blake’s hand shoot away in shock. “Avon!”

“Say you’ve missed me too,” he commanded, and Blake melted a little despite himself. It’s too soon, the rebel caught himself saying for the thousandth time since Avon had come back. His reasons for staying away from Avon had been numerous, and they’d run through his head repeatedly since leaving their booth in a huff, but the shots that were pooling in Blake’s stomach had sent a fire up his spine (and down to his loins, apparently), and Blake found himself quickly growing hard and wanting at the tone of Avon’s voice. Oh, I’ve missed that.

“I’ve missed you, Av’n,” Blake straightened, and his cock gave a twitch in his tight velvet pants. Oh, he realised slower than usual. It’s not just Avon; I need to go. There was no chronometer in sight now, and the teleport bracelets they were wearing had no such function either, so Blake had very little idea of how long it had been since they’d teleported from the ship down to the pleasure planet. All Blake knew with certainty was that, in all these hours he’d been drinking and laughing away, he hadn’t visited the bathroom once. That was all well and good when you could hold it, but his bladder was now rather insistent since his interest had been stoked by Avon, and Blake found himself in an uncomfortable situation. Avon’s gaze was hypnotic, true, but Blake had to break it when he glanced around towards the doors of the bathrooms behind him.

Avon blinked. He knew what Blake was thinking, and with a sudden lurch towards the man, Avon held him still. He couldn’t go – not yet.

“Here,” Avon pressed the pint glass of water into Blake’s hand and curled his fingers around the glass for him. “Drink.”

Blake looked back up at Avon, perplexed, but he was already explaining:

“You’ve had a lot of alcohol and not enough water-”

“I’ve just had a glass-” Blake began, but Avon silenced him by pushing his hand up gently and Blake took the glass against his lips before the water spilled. Slowly, eyes not leaving Avon’s, Blake drank the water, hardly pausing between mouthfuls. Avon was probably right, after all. Blake would need a lot more water before he went to bed if he were to stave off the hangover he’d been brewing all night. Those last three shots up at the bar, while bracing after his humiliation, would likely be his downfall now.

When Blake finally emptied the glass, he slid it back across the bar and looked up to Avon.

“Happy? I have to go Avon, excuse me-”

“Don’t-” Avon called out, and that was enough to stop the rebel dead in his tracks. The mild tone of desperation in Avon’s voice was unmistakable and uncharacteristic. “Please. Here,” a blush was creeping up Avon’s neck and cheeks now, and Blake leaned in to watch the man pouring him another glass of water from a jug on the bar. When he turned back, Avon gave a start at finding Blake pressed close to him.

“What are you playing at?” Blake asked with a sly smirk and took the water from Avon’s trembling hand. “What’s in here?”

“It’s just water,” Avon growled out low, an obvious defence for his sudden embarrassment. He couldn’t even look Blake in the eye as he turned his voice harsh.

“Drink it,” he commanded.

“Or what?” Blake asked lightly. He was feeling playful now; he had something Avon wanted – or rather, he could do something Avon wanted, and not giving it to the man was a game in itself. Blake brought the water to his lips, then put it down on the bar again, much to the other’s annoyance. “What’s in it for you?”

There was silence between them for a few moments. Avon’s face was flushed both from alcohol and the embarrassment he couldn’t quite hide behind his usual walls.

 “Just do it,” he choked out, thrusting the glass back towards Blake. 

"Avon, I can't," Blake's slurred voice managed to chuckle out the other man's name and he pushed the glass of water away from his face, turning his head, but stopped when he caught the look Avon was giving him. Even in the dimly-lit bar, the older man's eyes sparkled with unexpected lust, and he held the water up to Blake's lips again.

"Please," Avon's voice was husky and low, and coupled with his stare, Blake suddenly felt as if he were helpless to resist. Bewitched, he clasped his hand around the glass and slowly pulled it from Avon's grasp, downing the pint in one go. Avon watched with rapture, following the long line down from Blake's Adams apple to his stomach, right down to his groin. Blake huffed and swallowed down a belch, his stomach rumbling a little at the extra liquid, and he dropped the glass to the bar beside him with an unsteady hand. Huffing a little and breathing hard, he caught Avon's gaze and gave him a lopsided smirk, eyebrow raised.

"That enough water?" Blake asked and was shocked when a warm hand splayed out across his chest. Blake let himself be dragged down into a sloppy kiss - something he wouldn't have expected a sober Avon would have ever allowed himself - and responded with eagerness, tongue slipping into Avon's mouth to taste the strong alcohol he'd been drinking. Blake's eyes dropped closed as they kissed, and they remained closed even after Avon had parted and leaned back to speak into his bracelet.

"Alright Orac, being Blake and me up," he commanded, and in an instant they were stumbling from the teleport area into the silent ship.

"Avon! What are we-" Blake began, confused by the abrupt change from loud, dim pub to silent, glaringly bright spacecraft. He hadn't even realised Avon had spoken into his communicator, and now he found his legs were powering him down the corridor towards wherever Avon's hoarse voice was commanding him.

"No Blake, other left," he heard the man say, and with the woefully slow realisation of a drunk man, he came to the conclusion that Avon was steering him towards the ship’s private cabin, and Blake was willingly accepting of it.

"Avon, I can't," Blake rattled off the same weak protestation again, sobering minutely as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. "I need to go," he said sheepishly. It was a weak excuse, but the huge amounts of liquid he'd drunk that evening were catching up on him. Now Blake's poor decisions were beginning to pool deep in his abdomen, and he was finding it increasingly hard to focus on the intensely welcoming idea of joining Avon in bed.

"Oh, you won't have to worry about that," Avon said with a growl that turned Blake's legs into even more jelly than they already were. Had he been less cut, Blake might have paused to ponder what Avon meant, but instead he trusted the other man's words and carried on, stopping abruptly as Avon's voice halted him outside the cabin. Avon punched inaccurately at the door controls and ushered Blake inside with a firm hand on his lower back.


Avon was on Blake before the doors had even shut behind them, tongue rammed into the other man’s mouth and hands alternating between ripping the billowing shirt off Blake’s chest and groping at Blake’s plush behind. I thought that was softer than I remembered.  Avon squeezed again, sliding his hands around to open Blake’s trousers. The man above him was still struggling with his shirt, arms caught in the folds of loose material, so when Blake felt himself suddenly exposed with trousers around his ankles, there was little he could do to resist.

“Well that was hardly seductive!” he protested, blushing as Avon took in his form with a hungry, slightly deranged look.

“I’m far too pent up for pleasantries, Blake,” he licked his lips and reached out to run his warm hands across Blake’s chest, pointedly avoiding looking at the red scars on his stomach.

Already aching with the need to go, Blake’s cock bounced in the air before him and he hissed when Avon’s hand wrapped around it and squeezed. Avon bared his teeth and growled.

“Get on the bed.”

Blake found himself suddenly pushed back by the shoulders, and he stumbled over his trousers, tripping and falling to the bed behind with an undignified yelp.

Avon stripped his own clothes in a frantic hurry, practically tearing the tight leather trousers from his waist and struggling to pull them over his thighs. Blake rolled over, wrestling himself free of his own tangle of clothes and boots, and by the time he was stripped naked, Avon was already crawling between his legs, warm hand spreading his thighs open as he went.

“Gods I’ve missed you,” Avon mumbled more to himself than anything, and nuzzled his way up Blake’s inner thigh. His teeth bit gently as he went, chewing a path up tender flesh until he reached the inside curve of Blake’s hip. Pulling away, Avon’s hands traced around the base of Blake’s swollen cock, and he grasped it lovingly, feeling his own erection surge when Blake shouted, bladder cramping as his muscles tensed.

A little panic fluttered in Blake’s chest, and he gulped hard, trying not to let the feeling of his insistent bladder overwhelm him entirely, though it did little good when Avon pumped his cock with slow, firm strokes. Blake choked back a half-sob, half-gasp as his muscles twitched threateningly. The ache in his bladder spiked with pain again, radiating up his urethra, and he swallowed hard. Avon smiled wickedly.

"That's right Blake, that's right," Avon's hand switched back to a soft stroking motion, gentle as he circled the head with just his thumb and forefinger. He shifted forward then, and Avon's other hand came to rest lightly on the skin of Blake's abdomen. Avon pressed his palm against the firmness of the bladder inside, and Blake cried out, tensing, as Avon felt a dribble of heat seep over his hand.

"Yesssss," he hissed, watching with undivided attention as Blake's cock twitched, his muscles straining to hold back the flood within. The hand on Blake's bladder snapped away suddenly and went to stroke Avon's own swollen cock.

"Avon, I'm going to-" Blake cut himself off, watching his penis twitch despite his best efforts, and another small amount of urine seeped out. The flood gates were ready to burst, Blake could tell, but he kept holding out.

"Oh, don't stop talking," Avon commanded, stroking himself harder and fondling Blake slowly, rubbing the back of his hand on Blake's bladder as best he could, marvelling at the firmness behind the flesh.

"I've drunk so much, Avon; I haven't gone since we left the ship," Blake panted a little, thrusting his hips up as he shifted to relieve the pressure mounting behind his cock. "There's so much in me, I can't hold it much longer."

"Hold it Blake, hold it for as long as you can," Avon gasped at a particularly strong twist of his hand. His own hips were beginning to buck, and he bit down on his bottom lip, forcing himself to hold back.

"I'm going to lose it, I can't-"

"Do it," Avon growled low and Blake's breathing grew quick and shallow. Avon's hand had turned to gentle caresses now, fingers drifting up the base of Blake's turgid cock, right to the slit, then slipping off and coming back to the base, over and over, the sensation not unlike relieving himself. Blake realised then, perhaps a trifle late in the game: Avon knows exactly what he’s doing.

"I can't, I'm so full," Blake cried, squeezing his muscles, legs twisting over themselves again, forcing his thighs even tighter. "I can't, I'm going to-"

"Do it, Blake, please-" Avon rasped out, now all but fucking his hand, eyes fixed on Blake's aching cock. Blake gulped at the air, head dropping back, and he thrust a few more times in a fruitless effort to ease the enormous pressure building in him. But Avon's gentle stroking hand hardly faltered, trailing steadily against his tender red flesh, and he felt the aching hot release bursting forth. Blake thrust once more and cried out a pained gasp. His tense thighs relaxed and he felt himself give in to sensation as his bladder let go and hot streams of urine began pouring out across his legs. It started slowly first as his muscles reluctantly let go, until the stream grew stronger and stronger from the pressure within, drenching his legs.

"Fuck, yesssss..." Avon growled deeply, and he suddenly squeezed Blake with unexpected pressure as he lost control and slammed himself into his own tight hand over and over again, shaking the bed and coming desperately hard across his own stomach and fingers. Blake watched, eyes drawn to the mess Avon had made of himself for a brief moment before a spike of pain shot up through his abdomen, and his body tensed around a still half-full bladder, reluctantly stopping himself mid-stream. Blake shivered, clenching his fists into the sheets below him, and even the alcohol couldn't stop the shame that washed over him then, sitting as he was drenched in his own rapidly-cooling urine while Avon lazily rubbed his cock. Blake's chest heaved and he hiccoughed a little, stiffening as he pulled himself away from Avon's slack hand. He opened his mouth then, vaguely intent on muttering out an apology or a recrimination - something to excuse himself from the shameful mess he'd gotten himself into, but a wet hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Lie back," Avon purred, his voice softer than before but no less firm, and Blake sheepishly complied, shifting himself until he was lying down off as much of his mess as possible. The warmth at his back was totally unwelcome, and he shivered until Avon's hands pressed down on his hips and held him to the bed.

"You still need to go," the man above him remarked, but Blake said nothing, just watching as Avon suddenly swooped down and took his wet cock into his mouth. Blake shouted then, and his hands snapped up to hold Avon's head against him. The man was sucking (sucking!) against his still desperate erection, and Blake fought off the almost-irresistible urge to let the rest of it release - but Avon seemed to be trying his hardest to make that happen. Blake tensed instead, drunk mind hardly considering, despite the clear evidence, that maybe that was Avon's intention, and instead tried to focus on the orgasm that was growing from somewhere deeper inside him. His balls were aching, and he realised rather suddenly that half the pressure he was feeling down there was the edge of an orgasm building and building, egged on almost pleasantly by the desperation in his bladder. Avon's hand came up then, stroking through the coarse hair on Blake's thighs, slippery and cool, and came up to cradle his hot, wet balls. Blake cried out again, thrusting into Avon's wonderful mouth, feeling the pressure of his suction pulling him closer and closer, delicate tongue probing at his slit, and the hand on his balls started pulling-

"Av'n!" Blake shouted, voice cracking, and his seed burst into Avon's willing mouth, coming and coming and coming as if he felt it would never end, and Avon - the sick bastard! - was sucking him down like a greedy whore, lavishing him as he worked him dry, slipping off his cock achingly slowly and licking clean his softening shaft with dedication, then coming up to suck once more at his shrinking head like a parting kiss. Blake bucked at that, still panting hard, and for the moment his desperate need was forgotten in the afterglow of one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had.


When he'd calmed down some more, and the bed beneath him had grown uncomfortably cold, Blake allowed himself to be pulled up onto worryingly unsteady legs. Avon guided him into the shower where he relieved himself of what was left of his night of drinking, not really caring or considering if Avon would mind him urinating in his shower. If he did, the other man didn't show it, paying attention instead to soaping up Blake's back and legs. Blake rocked gently back and forth against the soap Avon rubbed into his skin, face turned up to feel the hot water soaking through his curly hair.

“Will you remember this in the morning?” Avon asked after a few silent minutes, his voice coming from just behind Blake’s ear so he didn’t have to shout through the roaring water. Blake took a few moments, thinking hard before he replied.

“Probably not,” he managed eventually, but he realised it was likely a lie. He’d sobered up rapidly from the shower and now his skin was breaking into goose bumps despite the heat of the water rushing over him. Avon’s close proximity, his rapidly-worsening thirst, and the residual shame of what had just happened all combined to leave him in a thoroughly confused state. He needed some water and a much more sober mind to pull apart what had just happened.

“Then I can say I would like to do something like that with you again,” Avon confessed into the back of Blake’s neck. The other man didn’t turn around. Instead, Blake craned his head up to gulp at the shower, though the warm recycled water did precious little to slake his thirst. “Unless…?” Avon continued unexpectedly, and Blake finally turned to look at the other man. If he hadn’t been able to blame it on the hot water, Blake would have sworn the other man was blushing.

“Maybe, Avon,” Blake relented, chest heaving with shallow breaths through the steam. Reckless… a little voice in Blake’s head seemed to say, but then Blake was speaking before he could stop himself and his lips turned upwards in a promising grin. “But next time we do my kink.”