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“Is it just me, or is the sun on this planet brighter than the one on Earth?”
“Just you,” the Captain states, barely looking up from their tablet. “It is warm, though. The weather in this sector skews towards being hot and humid.”
“That’s the jungle for you, I guess.” Mark stops to stretch. If it were up to him, he would have ditched his backpack two miles back, plant samples be damned. “Still, I gotta admit I kind of preferred when we were up in space.”
The Captain scoffs, but their tone isn’t rude; more disbelieving. “I’m surprised to hear that coming from you, of all people.” They pause, seeming to realize how close they are to mentioning The Incident, and turn to Mark. “But there’s value in what we’re doing. You picked an amazing planet, and we need to learn more about its flora and fauna if we want this colony to come into its own.
They gesture to the dense forest around them. “And there’s a sense of wonder in that, isn’t there? The exploration, the discovery? Isn’t that the point of space travel?”
“You’re right,” Mark agrees. Seeing them get so passionate about something is…nice. After all the trouble they went through to get to this planet, the least they and Mark can do is treat it well.
They march on, slowly gathering photos and samples, occasionally checking in with the rest of the expedition team. Eventually, after walking through corridors of vines and tangled grass, they find a clearing.
"Woah, look at that." Mark points to a cluster of large flowers. they're short, about ankle high, but their wide petals blanket at least half the ground in orange, pink and red. Yellow stamen rise up from their centers. They're very striking.
"I’ve never seen these before," The Captain says, pointing their tablet at it to scan it. They raise their eyebrows. “Ooh, completely unrecorded, too.”
Mark raises his own tablet. Sure enough, the scan reads, «undefined: No Data.» He takes a photo for the codex and puts the tablet away.
“They’re really pretty,” Mark says. “They kinda look like a sunset, don’t they?”
Before the Captain can reply, their head snaps up toward a gap in the trees. They stand there silently, eyes wide and focused.
"Captain…?"
“Shh.” The Captain’s hand flies out behind them, motioning Mark to stay still. They hear the telltale sound of a stick snapping. "There," they whisper, slowly pointing at something beyond the clearing. Then Mark notices what they’ve seen. Some kind of…toad? Frog? Salamander? Whatever it is, it's enormous. As big as a person, easily.
“I know this one, it’s…what did we decide on calling them?” Mark whispers.
«Giant spear-headed poison frogs are native to the Ferthbown region of the planet Centaurus.» The Captain and Mark practically jump out of their skin when Mark’s tablet begins speaking, unprompted and with nowhere near enough tact or volume control. It continues speaking even as Mark fumbles with the tablet, trying to remember how to make it stop. «Little is known about them as of yet, except that they secrete incredibly potent toxins, which can cause significant bodily harm through even minimal skin contact.»
“Shut up!” Mark hisses, finally finding the button to turn the tablet off outright.
But it’s too late.
Mark barely has time to think before the frog lunges, bounding through the clearing at lightning speed. The Captain grabs him by the back of his jacket, which is the only warning he gets before he’s shoved out of the way, falling directly into the flowers. The landing knocks the wind out of him, and he hears the Captain grunt as they leap in the same direction, but it pays off. The frog barrels straight past them, croaking loudly. Mark doesn’t dare to get up until the sound of rustling foliage fades into the distance, the animal gone as quickly as it came.
Confident that it’s gone, Mark breathes a sigh of relief and climbs to his knees. “That was one hell of a close call. Thanks, Capt–”
The Captain starts coughing heavily. They’re on their knees too, scrubbing their face almost violently. It’s only then that Mark notices the cloud of pollen in the air, no doubt kicked up when they landed. And while Mark had managed to get his hands out in front of him before hitting the ground, it seems the Captain wasn’t so lucky. Bright yellow pollen coats the entire right side of their face, and it’s clinging to their coat, too.
“Captain!” Mark sidles over to them and grabs their shoulder. He’s covered in pollen too, though it seems the Captain copped the worst of it. “Are you okay?!”
“Stop, you–” The Captain gurgles before descending back into their coughing fit.
“Stop what?!”
The Captain doesn’t reply for a solid twenty seconds, too busy trying not to hack up their lungs. When they finally catch their breath, they finish, “You’ll damage the samples.”
“Oh, right.” Mark stands up and helps the Captain to their feet, moving them both away from the flowers as delicately as possible. “You know, I think between the two of us, we already have enough samples from this thing, don’t you?”
The Captain sneezes, not even bothering to glare at him. “Not funny,” they simply croak as they continue to try and dust themself off.
But Mark discovers, when he attempts to do the same, that the pollen is sticky, and more prone to turning into grainy paste than coming off when you swipe at it. And it kind of stinks, now that he’s surrounded by the stuff. He scowls. “The hell is this?”
“It’s disgusting,” the Captain gripes. “We need to go back to the outpost.”
“But we haven’t taken a sample yet…”
“This is an undocumented species, and we just got drowned in its pollen. We could be breathing in poison for all we know. Besides, these flowers are too big to get into a container without damaging it. This'll need to be a multi-person job.”
“We're multiple people!” Mark complains as the Captain walks back the way they came.
“Two people covered in a potentially hazardous substance! Stop being contentious and follow me,” they call back.
“Fine, fine.” Mark jogs to catch up to the Captain. “So what, we let the phytologists vacuum this off and then quarantine for three days?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“I know,” the Captain says. Then they sneeze again. “Ugh. I’m just glad I don’t get hayfever.”
“It really got you, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, I pushed you out of the way and dove forward at the same time, and I didn’t have time to brace myself properly.”
“Woof. Thanks for that, by the way. seriously; those frogs are, like, super poisonous.”
“I know. Everyone saw what it did to Danny.”
“Ugh.” Mark shudders even remembering. He looks down at his arms, his gloves and jacket coated in a fine layer of yellow. “Even if this is poisoning us, as long as it’s not as bad as that, I'll be happy.”
“What, being bedridden for a week having the worst trip of your life not your idea of a good time?” the Captain gives Mark a sly grin, to his shock. it’s rare for them to be so bluntly sarcastic. Mark simply laughs, and they continue walking in comfortable silence.
It takes less than five minutes for something to go wrong.
It creeps up on Mark slowly. He was already tired before, between the humidity and the heavy research pack he’s carrying, but now he’s covered in grime and the temperature is rising. He feels strangely weak all of a sudden, each step taking more effort than the last. The pack weighs him down more than ever. He thinks it’s getting harder to breathe. Or is he just paranoid?
Before he can voice his concerns, the Captain stops in their tracks, resting their hands on their knees. “Captain?”
“I’m okay,” they say quickly. “Just winded.”
“Me too, actually. If you need a break–”
The Captain shakes their head, takes a deep breath, and surges forward. Mark struggles to keep up with their pace, but they only make it as far as a new clearing before deflating again. “Shit,” they sigh.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mark asks. “Look, I’m tired, too. It’s hot, it’s humid, we’re carrying a lot of equipment–”
“Are we going the right way?” the Captain asks breathlessly, squinting at their tablet incredulously. They pace around, looking between the map on their arm and the environment around them. Their face is flushed, sweat dotting their furrowed brow. “The temperature’s not rising, no…” they murmur. Their look of concentration contrasted with their disheveled state makes something stir in Mark, and he frowns. 'Down, boy, this is a really bad time.'
“Captain, talk to me,” he urges, tension edging into his voice. “Are you– Are you feeling sick? Look, I think that pollen might have really done something, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m…it’s hot, and I can’t breathe, and my clothes are itchy.”
“What?”
They raise their hand out, waving him away. “The outpost, we need to get– ngh.” The Captain staggers forward only for their legs to buckle, sending them collapsing into the dewy grass. Their arms shake from the effort of holding up their upper body and their pack at once.
“Captain! L-Let me help, uh…” Mark kneels down beside them and helps them shrug off their bag. “I’ll carry it, don’t worry,” he says, but he’s not sure he’ll even manage to get himself back to his feet at this rate.
The Captain is breathing heavily now, sweat rolling down their face, sticking their hair to their forehead. They shake their head forcefully and moan with an edge in their voice Mark has never heard before.
He suddenly realizes he’s getting hard alarmingly fast. His first thought is to try and will it away, but it’s also rapidly becoming harder to think about anything but getting off as fast and hard as possible. His head swims, and he can almost feel the rational part of his brain shutting down. His clothes are suddenly far, far too hot and itchy. “Fuck,” he whispers, arms shaking as he divests himself of his own pack.
“I’m burning up,” the Captain hisses, yanking off their gloves and jacket. “Oh my god, fuck,” they gasp as they cast the articles aside. The first thing Mark notices is how their erect nipples prominently poke out beneath their shirt. Seemingly without noticing they’re doing it, they swipe their fingers over one of them and jolt, tipping their head back with a high “Ah!”
If Mark had any blood left in his brain, he doesn’t after that. He chokes back a moan and squeezes himself through his pants, trying desperately to take the edge off. He doesn’t think he’s gotten this aroused this fast since he was a fucking teenager. Part of him thinks he should be panicking, but he's quickly forgetting why. All he knows is he's dizzy, and unbearably horny, and it feels fantastic. He’s doubled over on the ground now, rubbing at the tent in his pants because he just can’t stop himself.
“Mark, what’s…happening to us?” the Captain whines.
“I don’t…” He really doesn’t know. His mind is overwhelmingly foggy, like his brain has been packed over with cotton. He doesn’t know if the Captain can see him touching himself or if he’s too hunched over for that. All he knows is he wants to rip their clothes off and mount them like some kind of…
“I can’t–” he wheezes. Just the thought brings him perilously close to the edge. It feels like he’s going crazy. It feels like he’s on fucking fire. He fumbles to rip his clothes off, just barely having the presence of mind not to do it literally.
He doesn’t bother to stop the sigh of relief that escapes him when he finally frees his erection and shucks off the last of his clothing. “Too hot,” he pants. How is it still so hot? He doesn’t think twice about it; just spits into his hand and starts stroking himself. Immediately, a shaky moan falls from his lips.
It's so much. How long has it been since he last masturbated? He honestly can’t remember. He can’t tell if it’s the pollen or the dry spell, but every stroke, every twitch, every everything feels so much more intense than it should. His fingers are already covered in precum. He probably looks and sounds depraved, moaning and grunting as he fucks his fist. He certainly feels depraved, but it feels too fucking good to care.
There’s some kind of primal satisfaction in just going at it with reckless abandon, losing himself in it. His cheeks burn at the idea of the Captain seeing him like this, but he can’t tell if he finds it humiliating or thrilling. Maybe both.
Finally, all too soon, he feels the edge approaching. His fist speeds up, gliding over his dick rapidly. His muscles are jolting, tensing up of their own accord, and for a second he stops breathing before he finally spills over, a guttural growl tearing its way from his throat. “Oh, fuck,” he wheezes, gently stroking himself through the aftershocks.
Aftershocks that never end, he realizes. Instead of the embers slowly dying out, they persist, slowly growing back into a steady blaze. Curious, he goes back to full speed and cries out in shock and pleasure. It’s overstimulating, but enticingly so, not painful. Just on the right side of too much. And the cum drenching his hand - there’s so damn much, he’s not sure that’s even possible under normal conditions, but it just makes for an even smoother glide.
He chokes on a sob of ecstasy, almost missing the Captain’s cry of, “Fuck!”
He looks up, and almost drools at what he sees. At some point, the Captain stripped themself of their clothes, and they’re lying naked on their back, staring hazily at him as they touch themself. They’ve already come at least once, it seems, if the mess on their hand is any indication. Their eyes widen as they meet Mark’s, but they don’t stop what they’re doing. They just moan, hastening their movements until Mark can hear the obscenely slick sound of them jerking off.
Mark groans desperately. Seeing his Captain like this turns the blaze back into a roaring inferno in an instant, arousal surging through him. He sits up a little straighter, opening his legs to give the Captain a better view of himself. The response is immediate. Their gaze falls to his leaking cock and they gasp, stroking themself even faster.
“Ngh, god,” they whine. With what seems like a herculean effort, they stop their ministrations in favor of changing positions. They situate themself directly in front of Mark with their legs spread to give him a mouth-watering view of their sex, flushed and twitching and leaking slick. They pick up where they left off, Mark moaning in unison with them.
They’re so fucking gorgeous like this. It’s tempting to bat their hand away and bury his face between their legs, to lap at them until they scream his name. His cock aches just thinking about it. He wants to wreck them so many ways, wants to fuck them senseless and then reverently put them back together.
He wants to, but he can’t. That’s a line he can’t bring himself to cross, not quite yet.
They can’t seem to look away from him. Their eyes keep fluttering shut from the pleasure, only to refocus on Mark’s cock. It’s like they’re hypnotized. Their free hand goes up to cover their cheek, before they stick two of their fingers in their mouth to suck on, eyes almost rolling back as they do it. Mark squeezes himself tighter and clenches his jaw. Fuck, he wishes that was his cock in their mouth.
The Captain withdraws their fingers coated liberally with saliva. They make the most of it, rolling one of their nipples between those spit-slicked digits. They suddenly tense up and cry out at the sensation. Their legs begin to close, but before he can think, Mark’s free hand darts out to grab one of their knees, holding their legs open. “Lemme see,” he groans. “Want to see you come.”
“Mark…!” they sob, fingers moving at a frantic pace. They arch their back and their toes curl as they come with a shout. Their release gushes over their hand almost violently as they work themself through their orgasm, milking themself for all they have. And there’s so fucking much.
Mark is so entranced by their climax, his own catches him by surprise. He tightens his grip on the Captain’s knee involuntarily as the pressure behind his navel hits the breaking point, moaning through gritted teeth as he comes again. Some of it lands on the Captain’s groin, and it makes something animalistic and possessive stir within him.
The thought of claiming them, of filling them with his seed abruptly crosses his mind. He closes his eyes, unsure what surprises him more; such a thought coming out of nowhere, or how appetizing it sounds.
He keeps stroking himself, overwhelmed but not surprised when his libido starts rising again. His free hand slides from the Captain’s knee to their thigh, not close enough to touch anything yet. A question. “Ca– Can I?”
The Captain gulps harshly. “Please, yes, touch me.”
Mark pays close attention to their face when he finally touches their sex. They screw their eyes shut and bite their lip, hips bucking into his hand. He groans, releasing his dick in favor of being able to keep touching them and hold them steady at once. “You’re so fucking wet,” he says, stroking the length of their arousal to gather up their mess on his fingers.
The Captain mewls, twitching under his hands. They hold up their own hand, the one drenched in their own cum. “Lick me clean,” they rasp. Somehow, they manage to make it sound commanding even after coming their brains out.
And who is Mark to turn down a command from his Captain? He takes their fingers into his mouth, sucking greedily like they’re feeding him the sweetest nectar. “You taste so good,” he moans helplessly, eyes fluttering closed.
He works their arousal slowly, gently, until they withdraw their hand from his mouth and hiss through their teeth; “More.”
With his hand more than sufficiently lubricated, he drags his fingers down, down, pressing against the Captain’s sensitive body until he finds their entrance. “I-I wanna be inside you,” he pants, teasing around the outside of their hole. “I… please …can I?”
The Captain releases a low, drawn-out moan. “Yes, fuck. Fuckin’ do it.”
It’s not like the Captain never swears, but hearing them speak so filthily just stokes Mark’s arousal even further. His finger slides inside them with little resistance, eliciting a sigh of pleasure. He pumps it carefully, testing their comfort level, before sliding in a second finger. They tighten around him, exhaling through their nose.
“Good?” Mark asks.
“Yeah, ‘s just…” They wiggle their hips, snaking their hand back down to circle around their heat. “Mmh … It’s so much better than normal.”
Part of Mark wants to crack wise, make some kind of joke about having magic fingers, but he’s too dazed to find the words. They’re like a vice around his fingers, wet and blazing hot, their walls pulsing, trying to pull him in. Urging him to move. So he does, falling into a quick, deep rhythm in sync with the Captain’s strokes.
“I’ll treat you right, hon,” he murmurs, barely even conscious of it. He works in a third finger, spreading them apart before crooking his fingers. He knows he’s struck gold when the Captain’s entire body jerks, their walls clamping down around him.
“Hhhauh–! There, fuck, right there!”
They don’t need to tell him twice. The Captain quickens their pace, and Mark keeps up with them, nailing their sweet spot as often as he can manage. The Captain scrabbles for purchase, ultimately hooking their legs around Mark’s waist to urge him closer. Their free hand finds its way to Mark’s shoulder, digging their nails in without thinking. Mark doesn’t often enjoy pain, yet something turns the raking of their nails across his shoulder into a delicious sensation. His neglected cock throbs with need, but he’s more focused on the Captain for the moment.
“Oh go-o-od, I’m so close,” they gasp.
"Yeah?"
“Yes, fuck, Mark, I want…I–”
The Captain’s eyes roll back and they choke on their own words. Their entire body goes rigid, and Mark, sensing their impending orgasm, moves his free hand over theirs, helping them stroke to completion. “Come for me, Captain.”
“Oh god, fuck! Mark!”
He presses right up against that spot inside them and rubs his thumb against the most sensitive part of their core. They come screaming, writhing so much Mark has to fight to not get bucked off.
Mark purrs in awe at the sight. He feels precum drool from his cock onto the ground. He’s already come twice in…he doesn’t even know how long, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been this fucking hard in his life.
The Captain finally comes down from their high, wheezing with their eyes screwed shut. Mark waits for them to open their eyes before pulling his hand away from their sex and lapping their cum off his fingers, holding their gaze as he does it.
“Fuck,” the Captain sobs. Mark can see them shaking, even lying down. He gently pulls his fingers out of them, wiping them off on their thigh, and leans over them.
“Can I… Is it okay if I fuck you now?”
The Captain pushes him back. “Nah, no, gimme a second,” they pant.
Mark obeys, sitting back and taking himself in hand to take the edge off. He feels surprisingly close already, just from bringing the Captain to orgasm with his own hands. He’s hot, drenched in sweat, and he can’t think about anything but himself and the Captain making each other come over and over until they’re both insensate.
Suddenly, the Captain sits up, grabbing Mark by the shoulders, and practically tackles him into the ground.
“What the– Holy shit,” Mark gasps, resting his hands on their hips. They grin salaciously, something wild and hungry in their eyes.
“I was gonna say before…” They sit in his lap, grinding against his shaft and eliciting moans from both of them. “…That I wanted to come on your cock.”
They waste no time with it, lifting up their hips. Mark, taking the hint, takes one hand off their hip to keep his erection steady as the Captain sinks down. As soon as they work the head inside them, they drop down all at once, catching Mark off guard. His back arches, the moan escaping him sounding almost wounded. “Cah– Captain! ”
“Fuck,” the Captain groans. They thumb at their nipples and raise their hips again, dropping down just as fast. “Oh … Keep calling me that, babydoll.”
The pace they set is frantic, riding his dick faster than he can keep up with. They’re so fucking tight around him, unbelievably hot and wet, and the coil of pressure behind his navel is winding tighter and tighter–
Until it snaps without warning, stealing the air from his lungs as he claws at the Captain’s hips. The Captain has the decency to slow down, rolling their hips back and forth and squeezing hard to work him through his orgasm. “Yeah, fuck ,” they whisper, pinching their nipples and gradually picking their pace back up. “That feel good? Wanna fff–fuckin’ fill me up some more?”
Mark wheezes. His vision is blurry, so he closes his eyes. “Capta–”
“Look at me,” the Captain orders.
Mark manages to crack an eye open to see the Captain rubbing his chest and looking at him with lust, but also tenderness. “Can you keep going?”
He nods.
“Good.” The Captain leans back, sliding their hand from Mark’s torso to rub at their stomach, below their navel. He might be imagining it, but it looks like it bulges out just the tiniest bit. It makes the heat in his gut curl almost painfully. “I want you to come in me again,” they say. They squeeze around him again, wrenching a reedy whine from him.
“I want it so bad,” they pant, sounding awestruck. Then they lift themself up until just Mark’s tip is inside them and drop back down, howling with pleasure.
If they were frantic before, they’re downright frenzied now, jerking off as fast as their hand can physically move. It’s all he can do to hold onto their hips and moan their title like a prayer as they fuck him into the ground. And it’s fucking amazing. Every thrust punches the breath from his lungs, the air is thick with sex and sweat, and between the two of them there’s so much lube that the sound is the most debauched thing he’s ever heard.
This is all that matters; him and his Captain, his best friend, as close as two people can physically be.
It’s not much longer before the Captain is close again, pushing their hips down like they want Mark even deeper inside them and stroking themself with absolute reckless abandon. They lick their other hand and rub their nipples just as fervently until they finally spill over with a muffled wail, clenching around Mark like the world’s warmest vice.
He thinks their orgasms are getting more intense, because when they relax this time, they go almost completely limp, bracing themself against Mark’s chest. “Ah, fuck…”
“You okay?” Mark asks. He runs his hand up their back and they shiver, keening softly.
“Yes,” they sigh. “I think…fuck, I think it’s almost outta my system, but–” They push against him, trying to right themself, but they’re trembling like their limbs are made of jelly. “I– I still need you.” They collapse against him. “Fuck.”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Mark cradles the Captain with one hand and rolls them both over, accidentally pulling out in the process. He manipulates their shaking limbs until the Captain is on their knees, ass in the air with their chest against the ground. “I’ve got you…”
“Mm-hmm.” The Captain wiggles their hips in invitation. Mark suddenly gets the urge to slap their ass. He gives in, but with just enough force to make them gasp, not to hurt them.
“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Mark breathes as he mounts them, sliding his dick over their ass before finding their entrance again.
His cum is slowly dripping out of them, and it might be the hottest thing he’s ever fucking seen. He gathers it up with his fingers and pushes it back in roughly, as deep as he can, eliciting a stunned cry out of the Captain. They back up against him, prompting him to pin their hips in place. “Stop.”
They do. Mark rubs their hip in thanks. “That’s good, baby. I’ll give you what we want.”
Mark means to enter slowly, he really does, but as soon as he pushes forward, the Captain opens for him so easily that it’s one smooth, deep glide until they’re flush together, crying out in unison.
“Nnngh, fuck, that’s good,” the Captain keens. “You’re so good to me.”
Mark leans over to rest his head on their back, and he can’t resist leaving a kiss between their shoulder blades. He shudders, pulling his hips back and slamming back in hard enough to jostle the Captain’s entire body. “That good?”
“Yesss.” The Captain turns their head as much as they can, giving Mark a carnal gaze. “Ruin me, Mark.”
That’s all the permission he needs. His movements are hard and deep, and the Captain backs up to meet his thrusts, squeezing around him every time he pulls back. He nuzzles against their back, breathing in their scent.
Again, there’s some sort of primal satisfaction in all this. They’re filthy, covered in sweat and cum and pollen and dirt, but it’s like there’s a bone-deep ache under his skin, that can only be sated by what they’re doing right now, fucking like animals on the forest floor. Digging his nails into their hips, sucking bite marks into their shoulders like he’s claiming them as his mate.
God, what he wouldn’t give to make them his. To become theirs. To stay here until they can't tell where one of them ends and the other begins.
“More,” the Captain begs. “I can take it, please… C’mon, big guy, fuck me ‘til I can’t walk straight.”
Mark tightens his grip on their hips, exhaling sharply. He can feel his self-control waning already. “Are you sure?” he asks.
“Come on!” they plead. “I’m burning up, Mark, I need you– Need you to fuckin’ breed me…” Their eyes screw shut. “Don’t know why, I just need your fucking cum, please…”
That makes his hips stutter, his next thrust landing with far more force than he intended. “Christ,” he wheezes. “You’ll be the death of me.”
The Captain laughs breathlessly. “Only if you don’t hurry up 'n' fuck me.”
A rumbling noise escapes from deep within Mark’s chest. He claws at their hips until they cry out. “Hurry up, huh? You need to get bred that bad?” He’s running his mouth with no filter now. He’ll probably regret it later, but something within him is boiling over to the point where he no longer cares. He nips at their shoulder. “Need me to fucking fill you up ‘til everyone knows you’re mine?”
The Captain trembles violently and releases a desperate noise. “Ohhh, god, yes… C’mon, last time I’ll ask.” Their voice drops to an urgent, breathy tone. “I need you to rearrange my fucking guts.”
Some switch or another in his hind brain finally flips. He sits up, resting on his haunches, and starts pounding them into the fucking dirt. He throws all notions of volume control out the window, grunting and groaning as loud as he damn well wants. His nails dig into the Captain’s flesh, his pace so intense they can’t even speak. Each thrust forces the air out of their lungs ‘til the only noise they can make is ah, ah, ah, ah.
It feels dirty, animalistic, and it’s scratching an itch Mark never knew he had. He’s burning with need from limb to limb, approaching a fever pitch. He shifts his and the Captain’s weight to let him dig one hand into their shoulder. “Gonna come,” he warns.
“F-F-Fuh-uck– yes– ” The Captain cuts themself off with a drawn out moan, bordering on hysterical. “In-si-side– Fuckin’– Come– inside, breed me, god!”
The noise that leaves Mark’s throat barely even sounds human. “Yeah, gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, snaking a hand around them to get them off. “So deep you’ll never stop feeling it, you like that?”
“Please– Please, Mark, I love it,” they sob. “I love you, make me yours, I'm yours-”
They wail with their release, and they squeeze so tightly around Mark he forgets how to breathe.
“Captain,” he groans, followed by their real name right as he follows them right over the brink, raking his nails down their back, his vision flashing white from the sheer force of it.
Euphoria so intense it comes back around to pain. Pain so sharp it borders on insanity. Insanity so rapturous it leaves nothing but euphoria. White hot pleasure scorching him from the inside out until he’s completely expended.
And his crash landing back to earth is sudden, like an explosion razing a city in a single instant. He collapses on top of the Captain, truly and utterly wrung out. He attempts to move, if just to pull out, but none of his muscles respond. All he can do is lie there, his blood pounding in his ears as he and the Captain gasp for air.
It takes a few minutes for him to regain any strength, which he expends to roll himself off of the Captain and into the grass beside them. He tips his head to look at them; completely flushed, hair plastered to their forehead with sweat, eyes wide but unfocused, lips red from being bitten. Their shoulders are dotted with faint bruises, and Mark swears he can see their back twitch from the force of their heartbeat.
‘I did that,’ he thinks, proudly. ‘Probably won’t get another chance.’
He thinks the Captain is talking, thinks he feels the Captain’s hand over his, but his senses fade before their words can reach him.
—
“Soliflorus…ten…tentigo…?”
“Soliflorus tentigopollinis. Named for their main defense mechanism.”
“Let me guess. The pollen?”
Rick nods. “The working theory from what we’ve observed in the wild is that, since they grow so low to the ground, they’re vulnerable to being eaten or stepped on. When their roots or petals are sufficiently disturbed, they release a unique type of pollen that makes the local wildlife more interested in, well, copulating, than trampling the vegetation.”
The captain tilts their head at the data pad. “Interesting. Wouldn’t be my first choice of defense if I was trying to deter predators…but if it works it works…” They pause for a moment before giving Rick a serious look. “And our names are off the record on the research reports, yes?”
“No mention of your names or titles anywhere. That’s classified information that will never leave this expedition team.”
They breathe a sigh of relief, handing the tablet back to Rick. “Thank you. Are we clear to leave yet? Sophia just conducted a physical on us both. We’re completely healthy, decontaminated, and have no remaining symptoms except for expected mild fatigue.”
“She told me, yeah. All your gear should be coming back from quarantine any minute now, and then you’re free to go.”
“Perfect,” the Captain nods. “Thank you, Roderick. You’re dismissed. Keep up the great work.”
Rick salutes the Captain, which they return, and leaves with a smile. With nothing else to do but wait, they lie back on their bed, twining their fingers together and staring at the ceiling.
“I don’t get how you can be so…clinical about it,” Mark says from the next bed over.
The Captain hesitates for a second, then glances at Mark. “Huh? No, yeah, I’m pretty much humiliated,” they say. “Staying clinical and professional is the only thing stopping me from outwardly going insane.”
“I don’t know if I can look anyone on this team in the eyes anymore…”
“We can, and we will. This was nothing more than a workplace accident, and we’re all professional enough to move on from it.”
Mark doesn’t reply for just long enough to make the Captain regret their phrasing. Little more than a workplace accident? As much as they’d like that to be true, it’s just not. It’s so much more complicated than that.
Before they can say anything else, Mark speaks up: “You’re not even looking me in the eyes, Captain.”
“Shit,” slips out of their mouth before they can stop it. They huff and sit up again, about to get up and pace the room before they decide against it, leaving their back facing Mark.
“It’s been a week and a half, Cap. We really need to talk about it.”
“I know…” they grouch. They scrub their face in defeat. It feels wrong without their gloves on. They stand up and sit on the end of Mark’s bed. They tilt their head towards the ceiling and close their eyes, still not ready to look directly at him. They sigh.
“I don’t regret it,” they both confess.
That finally gets the Captain to look at him, albeit out of shock. An emotion they see mirrored on Mark’s wide-eyed face.
“What?” he asks.
The Captain shakes off their stupor and clarifies: “I…don’t regret that we were…intimate. I only regret that it happened suddenly, and for…reasons beyond our control.”
Mark gapes at them, mouth opening and closing and opening before he seems to relax and find his words. “Um…yeah. I, uh… I know we couldn’t really think straight when it was happening, but I don’t think we would’ve done anything with each other if we didn’t…” he gestures at the space between himself and the Captain. “If there wasn’t something already here, you know?”
The Captain looks at Mark’s hands. “Yeah. I know.”
Even if this was as simple as a workplace incident…even disregarding the trials and tribulations they went through just to get to this planet…there’s been a fundamental shift here. A rift torn between them. And nothing will be done to fix it unless they make a conscious effort to bridge it. The Captain exhales, preparing to make their gamble. “I’m about to tell you something personal, Mark.”
Mark furrows his brow. “Okay…?”
The Captain grabs his wrist gently. They remember how electric those hands had felt against them. They look at him with all the sincerity and tenderness they can muster. “You are…the only person who’s seen me like that since college. By choice.”
They watch Mark take in that information. Confusion melds to surprise melds to deeper confusion. “How? You’re the most handsome and/or beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
A bemused smirk crawls onto their face. “Yes, I’ve been told those exact words many times.”
“People throw themselves at you all the time. I’ve seen it. Sometimes literally. ”
“And none of them I’ve wanted.”
Mark’s eyes widen, his mouth agape. Testing their luck, the Captain leans a tiny bit closer to him. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I…” Mark narrows his eyes, glancing around, “…think so?” He looks uncertain.
The Captain takes his hand and sidles forward, rubbing his palm with their thumb. They keep their eyes fixed on his hand when they speak: “I’m saying that…if the circumstances had been different… If we’d gotten to go on a nice date, have some wine, do things right…” they look off to the side, grimacing, “and also not like five times in a row because ow…” They shake their head slightly and look directly at him. “I would’ve been just as eager as I was then.”
There’s almost imperceptible color in Mark’s cheeks, and he looks about as vulnerable as the Captain feels. They swallow, and decide to shoot their shot. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but I suspect you could say the same.”
The tension lingers there. The ball is in Mark’s court now. The Captain sees gears turning inside his head, but he seems happy, not discordant. And then he confirms their wildest hope by twining their fingers together.
“Do you want to find out?”
The Captain smiles, their heart stuttering in their chest. “Give me a time and place.”
“Saturday night? My place?” Mark grins.
“Sure.” The Captain lifts up their joined hands, placing a shy kiss to his knuckles. “It’s a date.”