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Title: MMOM 26 - Algorithm
Fandom: Blake's 7
Disclaimer: "Blake's 7" belongs to the BBC, no money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended, this is just a bit of fun.
Summary: After the events of Sarcophagus, Avon needs to relax, even if he is on watch.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Soph for the beta. I've been reading some B7 fanfic lately and I felt like writing a little bit :).
Word count: 1,184
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Night watch could be less stimulating than Avon sometimes liked. There was no one to verbally dissect and, contrary to popular opinion, he was not a machine and could not spend every waking moment with his nose in a computer. The first hour or so was always pleasant with no ridiculous distractions from the others, but after that, time seemed to drag. It didn't help that it was the first watch after a disastrous near miss either and he was tense and in need of something to distract him.
He had been sitting there, for want of a better description, twitching, for the last hour, and even he could admit that he was about at the end of his control. Admitting that he had feelings always made him less than settled, even to himself, and it had been too close with Cally and that creature in the Sarcophagus. That thing had not only nearly taken Cally from them, it had almost killed him and Vila, and as much as he hated to admit it, Vila was too useful to lose.
"Zen," he said, finally deciding that he had to do something about his current state of mind, "alert me if anything shows on the scanners or it anyone approaches the flight deck."
"Confirmed," Zen replied with his usual mechanical tones.
Standing up, Avon walked to the seating area. All of them had tried to "celebrate" their victory earlier with false bravado and camaraderie, but it had been too close and the cracks had been showing on everyone's masks. They had sat around for a while pretending to be pleased that they had outwitted such a powerful enemy, but even Dayna had been unable to raise a smile for long.
There was only one thing that could make Avon stop thinking, even for a little while, and it was not drugs or alcohol. It was not something he did often, but it acted like a kind of reset switch to his psyche. It gave him a few moments where his mind was not working and that always seemed to refresh him, no matter what the stresses might be.
Ever precise, he efficiently removed his tunic and placed it on the seats, then he undid his belt and trousers and pushed the material down a little. He sat down and made himself comfortable; like everything else in his life, he liked to make sure he did this properly. Wasted effort was wasted effort and he did not like to waste any of his time or energy on useless pursuits.
It wasn't that he had the perfect formula for enticing his body into orgasm, but he knew what he liked as precisely as he knew how to program a computer and, just like computers, it was all in the choice of algorithm.
It was always best to start off slowly with any project; haste caused errors and errors were unacceptable. With this in mind, he palmed himself through his underwear, letting his body become used to the idea of what he had planned. He could feel himself hardening under his hand almost instantly and the familiar heat of blood pumping into his cock was pleasant enough to make him relax a little further into the seat. The way his body was responding made him doubly sure that he needed this.
Adjusting his position a little more, he reached into his underwear and pulled his cock free. He was already mostly hard and he required more contact to increase his enjoyment. He liked to be fully hard and sensitive before he began to play properly, so he efficiently stroked himself to full erection, letting his head fall back against the seat as he did so. His nerves were beginning to hum pleasantly now as the throb of arousal made his cock twitch in his hand.
There were many ways to bring a body to sexual ecstasy and Avon knew a great deal of them; he would never be second best at anything, but he was not in the mood for anything complicated. He did not relish the idea of one of the crew stumbling upon him in such a vulnerable position; it would not embarrass him, this was a perfectly natural need, but it was difficult to keep an eye on your back when you were otherwise distracted.
His need was such that simplicity was the best course of action anyway and, using two fingers, he began to caress the head of his cock. It sent jolts of excitement through his lower regions and he applied just enough pressure so it was almost too much, but not quite. He was not a masochist as a rule, but skirting the edge of such things appealed to his baser instincts.
Already he could feel the coil of his orgasm building, swirling around his loins and tightening his balls. It had been too long since he had properly indulged and it showed in his lack of adequate control. It was unfortunate that he was at the mercy of his body's baser needs, but sometimes these things were necessary and even Avon did not think he could order his body to obey him completely all the time.
Speeding up his movements, he used one finger to flick over the head as the others and his thumb worked the shaft. It had less style than he would have liked, but it felt better than even he had expected. Clearly his original estimation of the situation had underplayed quite how pleasant the whole thing would be.
As with all things he did, he knew what he wanted and he knew how to get there and, given his position on the flight deck, he did not allow himself to be so open for long. He allowed himself one moan just before the end as his balls tightened, his body shook and pleasure ran through every cell as he completely surrendered to his orgasm. He felt the moment he had needed, the time when his mind cut off and there was only the physical left, nothing logical or intellectual at all. It was the one time he could be totally open and it lasted only a moment, but it was everything he needed.
Avon just sat there with his eyes closed for a while, waiting for all his faculties to come back online. He could already feel the desired effects coursing through his body as the tension of recent events flowed out of him.
[You should do that more often,] Cally's mental voice drifted into his head, sounding as relaxed and content as he felt; [you project in a quite remarkable way when you do.]
For a moment he considered being annoyed at the intrusion, but decided that it was not worth the effort.
"I am so glad to be of service," he said aloud, even though he knew Cally would not hear him.
He couldn't help a small smile though; if he had reached Cally, then he was clearly very good at what he did. There was nothing he liked more than being the best.