Date: Sun, 19 Dec 2010 14:16:29 -0800 (PST)
From: erik ritler <erikritler@yahoo.com>
Subject: space ship boys, chapter 17

Author's Note

For those reading this on Nifty, thanks for looking. I also post my story
on a Yahoo Group, which is kept at least one (and sometimes a couple of)
chapters ahead. If you're excited to see more of Devon and his friends,
including a ton of extras I've tried to add to the side, feel free to check
it out.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/spaceshipboys/


The tale so far:

Tension seems to be growing on the ship. In the wake of the riot, a product
of the protest started by Steven Caine and his group, Reid has joined
Security Force, determined to help find a solution to the growing
discontent. His best friend Patrick agrees to help - by going "undercover"
as a supporter of Steven's politics. The boys are now passing info to one
another, sometimes through Devon.

Devon has been largely concentrating on his new relationship with Conner,
but he is shaken back to reality when he visits the ship bridge at the
exact moment a massive fire breaks out on one of the farms. He and Charlie
look on in horror as the crew scrambles to action.


Space Ship Boys

Chapter 17 - The Ship Is On Fire (With Passion and Love)


Charlie and I stare at the large view screen at the front of the ship's
bridge, where we watch in shock as images from T3 flash across the
screen. T3, one of the larger grain farms on the ship, was currently on
fire, wicked looking flames engulfing the plants and rising into the air in
spiraling columns.

We can see dozens of figures scurrying about the farm, although it's
uncertain whether they are responsible for the blaze or trying to put it
out.

"Where the hell is suppression?" Captain Bianchi asks. His voice is calm
and collected, although there is no doubt he's completely in charge here.

Ensign Muldaur, the blonde crew member who is accessing data on the
incident currently taking place, punches several commands into to her
terminal before responding. "I-I'm not sure. They appear to be
malfunctioning. I'm trying to initiate rain, but it's not working. And I
can't alter the gravity, either."

Charlie and I look at one another; he looks really concerned. I know why -
Mike sometimes works in T3. I remind him that his boyfriend didn't have
farm duty today, he was working in engineering with Reid. Charlie looks
slightly more relieved, but not completely.

"If you can't get those systems online," Captain Bianchi barks, "let's
initiate an atmospheric evacuation. Make the announcement, ensign." He
looks over to another crew member.  "Matthews, get me Stranton. Right now."
His voice sounds a little cold.

Ensign Muldaur speaks into her headset. "This is a ship-wide alert. We are
initiating an emergency atmospheric evacuation in Area T3. Please evacuate
the area immediately. This is not a drill. I repeat - Area T3 will
experience an atmospheric evacuation in twenty seconds. If you are in the
area, please evacuate. If you cannot evacuate, please immediately move to a
breathing station."

All of the terminals in the bridge are now manned. Most of the crew are in
uniform, but some have entered wearing their civilian clothes. There is an
uneasy buzz about the air; the crew's demeanor is professional and
collected, but it doesn't mask the fact that something really wrong is
happening.

"Atmospheric evacuation?" Charlie asks. "That's crazy."

We'd all been drilled on various emergency procedures throughout the
ship. Some seemed silly - like what to do if the toilets all backed up -
where others were scary, such as the procedure for a total breach of the
ship's hull.

Fire suppression was a common drill. The first course of action was to
drench the flames using the sprinkler systems; most farms could easily
produce a torrential rainstorm. If this didn't work, the gravity could be
turned off. For most areas of the ship, turning the gravity completely off
was only allowed during an emergency, but it was doable. As I'd learned
from first hand experience, zero gravity could be used for effective fire
suppression. In zero gravity, hot air doesn't rise because it is no longer
lighter than cooler air, so the flame's exhaust just sits around the fire,
reducing its ability to spread. The fire might not go completely out, but
it would usually be reduced to a smoldering ball of red flame if it didn't.

If neither of these worked, a more severe course of action was undertaken -
atmospheric evacuation. It was exactly what it sounded like, the air in the
room would be removed and replaced with inert gasses, including
heptafluoropropane. The benefit was that the fire would go out almost
immediately, with the downside that the air wouldn't be
breathable. Fortunately, an atmospheric evacuation was very short,
requiring only a few seconds to work. Those in affected areas could access
an emergency breathing station or hold their breath. Instances of
suffocation were said to be rare. But living on a space ship...well, you
really didn't want unbreathable air, even for a few seconds.

"I'm prepped for atmosphere evacuation," Ensign Muldaur says, working away
at her terminal.  "Requesting authorization to run a thirty second cycle in
Area T3."

"Authorization granted, run the cycle," Captain Bianchi orders.

Charlie and I feel a tremendous tension spread across our bodies. Another
crew member is seated near us, speaking into a headset. He's requesting
that anyone trained in medical assistance report to the level the farm is
on. I imagine Conner receiving the notice, and then running out of the
hospital to go help. The image of him in the middle of this makes me
queasy.

"This is a ship-wide alert," Ensign Muldaur says, speaking into her
headset. "Atmospheric evacuation in Area T3 is imminent. Please move
immediately to any available breathing station.  If you are unable to
comply, medical assistance will arrive shortly. Please remain calm. Take a
deep breath on my mark - oxygen will be returned to the room after thirty
seconds. Atmospheric evacuation in ten...nine...eight..."

On screen, most of the people still in the farm begin running for the
exits. Others access the breathing stations, which are spaced along the
walls in regular intervals, marked by large signs that are currently
flashing blue.

The bridge is now crammed full of crew members. Charlie and I stand
completely still, our eyes on the large display before us. My wristcom
begins buzzing with incoming messages, but I ignore them, unable to tear my
eyes away from the fires.

Ensign Muldaur reaches the end of her countdown and enters the command for
the atmosphere evac. Although only the farm will be affected, everyone on
the bridge takes a deep breath.

In the farm, the lights dim and then flicker back to full strength. Some of
the people stuck in the room are still running around, but most have done
as protocol dictates and found an available breathing station.

The fires don't go out.

"Atmospheric evacuation failed!" Ensign Muldaur reports, fear creeping into
her voice.

Charlie and I look back at Captain Bianchi. "What?" he asks in shock. "Get
the oxygen out of there, Ensign, and do it now!"

"I-I'm sorry, sir," Muldaur says. "It's not working. The system is
completely shut down. It could be fire damage..."

"We need to get this thing under control, people!" the Captain
barks. "Weaver, Alonso, Studi...any ideas?" he asks.

The crew members he addresses shake their heads. One replies, "No
sir. Muldaur is right - nothing is working."

Another announces, "I have sensors going off along the port wall. We have
temperature spikes...the fire is in the wall, sir."

Captain Bianchi swears under his breath. "Am I right that T4 is on the
other side of that wall?"  he asks.

When Ensign Muldaur confirms this, and that fire suppression isn't working
there either, Lieutenant Olin quietly says, rather uncharacteristically,
"Holy shit."

"What's going on?" Charlie asks.

We both know T4 really well - although we call it a farm, it's really a
large forest, the largest on the ship. It's where Charlie had recently held
the scrub campout. Dozens of acres of evergreen trees were packed into the
massive space, towering overhead in an arboreal spectacle unlike anything
else on the ship.

Olin whispers to us, not wanting to distract any of the crew members, who
are all frantically searching for a solution to the problem. "The fire is
spreading," he explains. "It's in the walls, which means it will work its
way to the farm above T3. But worst of all, it might spread to T4. If the
trees catch fire...we could be looking at a complete disaster."

I feel sick to my stomach. One farm burning seemed slightly scary, but a
fire hopping from farm to farm, destroying our food and air supply inch by
inch, was terrifying. The smoke in T3 was growing so dense that it's
obstructing the cameras, although we can still make out several figures
running to and fro. Some seem to be trying to combat the flames with
handheld extinguishers, where others are just trying to get out of the way
of the fire. One guy looks like he's passed out, presumably from smoke
inhalation. Two of the other people scrambling around the farm seem to
notice and run to his assistance, dragging his limp frame toward the exit.

Suddenly I wondered whether LB, the small black cat that roamed the halls
down in these farms, was okay. She usually showed up in F117, which was
several levels below T3 in a substantially smaller farm. No animals lived
in either T3 or T4, which was fortunate.

But there were some in W4.

I thought about the massive tank that housed the whales, along with a fair
number of fish. W4 was located on several levels, being as large as it was,
but if the layout of the ship in my head was correct, it shared common
walls with both T3 and T4. Would a massive fire burn hot enough to affect
the tank? Would the whales and fish be boiled alive, or would that require
far more energy than a fire, even a massive one, could generate? I wasn't
sure.

"There's a billion gallons of water in W4," I whisper to Charlie. "Too bad
that doesn't help."

Lieutenant Olin gives me a sideways glance, and then his eyes light
up. "That's perfect!" he exclaims.

Leaving us standing off in our corner, he leaps over a railing and gets
onto a terminal, pushing the crew member manning it aside. "I think I have
a solution," he says, turning to the Captain.  "Yes...these systems are
working." Several crew members stare at him, hopeful. "If I override the
system, I can open the vents between W4 and T3. It will flood the farm."

Flooding the farm sounds like a good idea. Captain Bianchi asks for
details, not wanting to make the situation worse. Lieutenant Olin explains
his idea. Between W4 and T3 lay a massive secondary tank. Here, a series of
underwater tube structures house hundreds of fish farms in independent
biospheres. The entire chamber housing the fish farms is itself flooded,
and is technically part of W4's main tank, although a series of vents and
filters prevent any large animals from getting into the secondary tank. We
often swam or surfed in W4, but I'd never visited the tank on the other
side of the wall, although you could go scuba diving there if you so
wished. I'd heard it was a little creepy, just a massive dark tank with
hundreds of fish-filled tubes floating around.

Lieutenant Olin proposes that he close off W4 and the secondary tank and
then open the vents between the smaller tank and T3. The water in the
secondary tank will theoretically flood T3 and put the fires out, although
no one seems sure exactly how much liquid we were talking about.

"I don't see that we have many other options," Captain Bianchi says. "How
is the situation in T4?"

An ensign named Weaver responds. "I'm not showing any fires in the farm
itself, and I'm looking at the video feed right now. But the fires are
definitely in the walls, and that whole area is thick with brush. It's
going to spread there, it's just a matter of time."

"Okay," the Captain says slowly, deep in thought. "Let's flood the
farm. But I want all doors open on that level first, and warn
people. Olin...watch the feed. If the water in T3 starts to get too deep I
want those vents closed. I don't want to drown everyone in there."

I feel another knot bunch up in my tummy. Drown? Is Conner down there?

Ensign Muldaur accesses the intercom. "Attention to those in T3 and the
surrounding areas. We are going to try to put out the fires by flooding the
farm. Please move to the rear wall or anchor yourselves." She taps a long
finger on her screen and then turns to the Captain. "Sir, there are a lot
of people in there. That's a lot of water...they'll probably be swept away,
we could have injuries."

"I know," he replies, "but I don't see that we have any other choice. If we
don't get this fire under control, everyone in there might die. Olin, get
those vents open now."

Lieutenant Olin acknowledges the order and follows it. Punching commands
into his system frantically, he initiates the procedure. Every eye watches
the main screen with intense apprehension. Next to me, Charlie looks
completely pale, and I'm sure I seem even more so.

At first nothing happens, and we all expect another system failure to be
reported. But then five large openings appear in the forward wall. A
millisecond later, each erupts with a tremendous jet of water. It's as if a
million fire hoses have been set loose upon the room.

I hold my breath. The tactic seems like it has to work. The wheat beds in
front of the vents are immediately deluged, and although there is no sound
accompanying the images on screen, I imagine that the fire is hissing and
crackling viciously as it dies.

The tank that's been opened to T3 is massive, and it's only seconds before
the water pouring into the wheat farm is ankle deep. Most everyone
remaining in the farm runs toward the entrance, which has been opened so
that water pours out into the hallway, although some have stopped to watch
the flood. It's only thirty seconds before the water level is high enough
so that it begins to flood all the wheat, which sits up off the ground in
raised beds.

"It's working!" Charlie exclaims. Indeed it seems to be, although the crew
members in the room hold off on celebrating.

"What's going on in T4?" the Captain asks. Ensign Weaver is monitoring the
situation there, and reports that the temperature alerts are disappearing
one by one. She's able to open the vents between the farm and the crawl
space so that water pours down into there as well, dousing any flames that
have made it between the walls.

After a minute, the fire is completely extinguished. The water in T3
reaches about three feet deep before Olin is commanded to close the vents
to W4. He does so and the jets on the far side of the room subside,
presenting a view of one massive soggy, but fortunately no longer burning,
mess. A round of applause rises from the room.

"Okay people, settle down," Captain Bianchi commands. "Do you have
Stanton?" he asks. An ensign named Studi responds affirmatively, and bumps
a live feed from the mayor's office up onto the main screen. Eden Stranton
is sitting at his desk, looking slightly worried.

"Captain," he says, acknowledging that the connection is functional.

"Mayor Stranton," the Captain says, his tone officious, "as I'm sure you're
aware, we currently have an incident in Area T3."

Eden nods. "I'm monitoring the situation now," he says. "I'm told the fires
are out. Thank you, captain, to you and everyone responsible for that."
Eden goes on to say that he's declared a state of emergency, and that
security force has been scrambled, asked to report to the farm to provide
emergency assistance. He also says he's in contact with medical. He names
the medical officers currently on their way to the farm, and Conner is one
of them. I breath a sigh of relief - he hadn't been there during the fire
or the flood.

"I would like to send a military unit down to T3," the Captain says.

Eden thinks about this for a moment, and then shakes his head. "I'm sorry,
Captain, but I don't think that's a good idea. If you want to send off duty
officers to assist, we're happy for the help, but I'm inferring that you
want to send in an armed force. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"I'm talking about ten to fifteen troops...yes, armed and capable of
providing police support. I believe this is warranted," the Captain
says. It sounds reasonable to me.

"Sorry, I'm going to have to deny that request," Eden replies.

Captain Bianchi's reaction is immediate and severe. "Dammit, Stranton! For
all we know this could be an act of aggression. The suppression systems
were all down...I find that highly suspicious."

Eden looks cool and collected. "As do I," he agrees. "But I'm told the
ship, crew and passengers are no longer in any immediate danger. Like I
said, we're happy for any non-military assistance you want to provide, but
I don't want armed soldiers coming down here."

"We've been through this before, Stranton..." Captain Bianchi starts, his
tone angry. Eden cuts him off.

"Yes we have, Captain, and I respect your concerns. But military operations
cannot take place on civilian soil unless consented to by the mayor's
office. And in this case, I see no reason to have armed troops patrolling
the halls. We already have enough problems because of the security
force...soldiers are only going to rile Caine's group. Besides, there's no
way your men can patrol the entire ship. Trust me, Captain, this incident
will be investigated, and if this is an act of sabotage the culprits will
brought to justice. But this will be accomplished by the civilian
government...I can't allow the military down here right now. But I'm happy
for any assistance you want to provide. I would also be amenable to an
investigative liaison, if you'd like a member of your crew to coordinate
investigative efforts with this office."

Captain Bianchi looked enraged, but cedes to Eden's apparent
authority. "Fine," he says, anger in his voice. "But get your people under
control, Stranton. I won't allow the ship or my men to be put in peril just
to preserve the line between civilian and military."

"I understand, Captain," Eden says. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get to
work. Again, I want to thank you and the entire crew for a job well
done. We'll take things from here." The two leaders end the call, and
Eden's image disappears from the screen.

Once the view of the farm comes back up, we can see that hundreds of people
have entered the farm, wading through water that's fallen to ankle
depth. One rescue worker is dressed in a white jacket with a large red
cross on the back - I recognize him as Ian Whedon, the nurse.  Conner must
be there too, but I don't see him.

From behind us, Captain Bianchi swears and mutters under his breath,
presumably upset about Eden's refusal to allow him to send military
personnel down to the farm. He takes a deep breath, looking around the
bridge, thirty pairs of eyes fixed on him awaiting his next command.

"Ok people," he says, "good work with the fire, but there's a lot more work
to be done. I want a level one alert in effect for the base. I want a level
three lockdown initiated for the civilian sectors - the mayor may have the
authority to run things, but we can put some restrictions in place. And I
want every sensor, alarm and emergency system tested - immediately. We
don't know if this was an attack or not, but given the problems with fire
suppression we have to assume it was. Turn on the wristcom tracking. If
this the first of multiple attacks, I want to know.  And I don't care what
Stranton says, I want all available video feed for the last twenty-four
hours isolated and archived."

He looks straight at Charlie and me. I wonder if he's going to congratulate
me on my bright idea to use the whale tank to put out the fires, but then
he says, "Olin, get these kids out of here.  We're on alert, I want you to
personally escort them to the civilian sector."

The bridge buzzes with activity, crew members either carrying out the
Captain's orders directly, or passing on commands to crew of lower
rank. Lieutenant Olin walks back over to us. "C'mon guys, time to go." He
places a hand on each of our shoulders, pointing us toward the exit.

We leave the bridge, which I no longer find dull. We walk through the
military sections of the ship, heading back to the elevators where we'd
arrived.

"What the hell was that all about?" I ask, meaning everything - the fire,
the problems with the ship's systems, the argument between Eden and Captain
Bianchi.

Lieutenant Olin replies, his voice flat. "Sorry guys, I can't talk about
operations during an alert. I need to get you off base."

"Oh hey, I forgot my tablet," Charlie moans. It was true, he'd been
carrying around a small tablet with which to make notes. He'd left it
sitting on the bridge in all the confusion.

"You left it on the bridge?" Olin asks. Charlie nods. Olin swings his wrist
to his lips and speaks into his wristcom. "Deck sergeant," he says. When
his call is answered he continues. "Sergeant, there is a civilian tablet on
the bridge. I need to you institute quarantine procedures."

The sergeant acknowledges the order. "Quarantine procedures?" I ask. "Can't
we just go back and get it?" I turn around to face the direction we'd
come. I find an open palm placed firmly and quickly against my sternum.

"Mister Chasen," Lieutenant Olin says, "please turn around and proceed to
the exit." His command is firm and authoritative, something rare for the
normally soft spoken officer.

"I was just..." I protest, but Olin cuts me off.

"I am under orders to escort you away from the base. You left an electronic
device on the bridge at a time when we may be under attack. The device will
be confiscated and examined, and later returned to you. I know you boys
pretty well, and I know you were just in the wrong place at the wrong
time. If I didn't know you personally, you'd both be on your way to an
interrogation room.  I'm sorry, but I have to follow protocol. I need to
have your tablet inspected to make sure it isn't a weapon, and I need to
get you back to the civilian area."

Charlie looks annoyed. We'd been asked up here, after all, and now it felt
like we were being suspected of something. "And if we don't go?" he asks.

Teenagers are hardwired to question authority. Sometimes this is a good
idea, others it isn't.  Lieutenant Olin looks at us both blankly and says,
"If you gentlemen would be so kind as to notice the flashing red panels
around the room..." We look and see that, indeed, every fifty meters or so
there is a white panel set into the wall, a numeric keypad on each. A
bright red light flashes over each, lights that had activated when the ship
went on alert.

Olin continues, "Each panel contains emergency weapons. I am under orders,
gentlemen.  Please turn around and begin walking toward the exit. I would
not want to shoot either of you, but that is protocol if you refuse to
leave."

Charlie gulps, feeling stupid for having asked. We comply with the order,
Lieutenant Olin leading us toward the exit. We walk down several hallways,
eventually coming to the large blue arch where we'd entered the base. Eight
rather nervous crew members stand on the base side of the arch. They're
dressed in combat gear and carrying rifles.

"I have two civilians leaving," Olin says. We're searched, and then allowed
to pass under the arch. Again we pass the scan, apparently, since nothing
happens.

Charlie and I enter the elevator, expecting Olin to turn and head back to
the base. Instead he enters the compartment with us. I groan inwardly. I'm
feeling a bit out of sorts from everything, and I'd hoped we'd be rid of
all things military once we got off base.

Olin presses the button for the main lobby. When the doors close, he says,
"I'm sorry about that.  I have to follow orders to the letter when on
base. We're back on civilian soil now."

"So we can go wherever we like?" I ask.

Olin nods, and then corrects himself. "Well, no. There's a lockdown in
effect. I'd highly suggest you go straight home. But you're not under my
supervision any longer."

I'm a little pissed at Jonathan, who I felt could have both followed orders
and been polite. "So we can tell you that you're a smarmy plonker?" I ask
sarcastically.

Olin looks a little hurt, but unsurprised by my comment. "I suppose," he
says. "But then I can tell you to grow up, Devon."

I'd insulted the lieutenant, but that didn't mean I was any less annoyed by
his comment. "Oh?" I ask coldly. "How's that?"

He looks me in the eye. "You live on a space ship that has a very delicate
political balance - one that is clearly deteriorating. I'd think you would
appreciate this more than anyone. The riots last month were one thing, but
what happened today...if those fires were deliberately set, that was an
attack on our food and air supply."

Charlie and I respond with worried looks. Olin sighs deeply. "I'm just
saying. Something is going on, and it's not good. I want you boys to be
careful. This isn't a laughing matter, we all depend on stability for our
survival."

Our trio is silent for the rest of the elevator ride, the impact of Olin's
words settling on our shoulders. When we reach the main lobby Charlie and I
get off, but Lieutenant Olin remains in the compartment, punching a command
for a different floor. As the doors slide closed, I consider making a quick
apology, but I don't.

Charlie and I follow the Lieutenant's advice and head straight home.


* * * * *


The two weeks following the incident on the farm are a really weird time on
the ship.

In what feels like a miracle, no one had been killed during the fire or the
flood. There were several broken bones and some pretty bad burns, and one
guy had been slammed into a wall when the deluge was set loose on the room,
requiring emergency surgery, but he'd make a full recovery.

The crops had been destroyed, and the farm was a disaster, mud and ash
coating everything.  At first we all wondered how many shit detail
assignments it would take to fix the place up again, but then something odd
happened. Two days after the fire, once Eden's security force had completed
their initial investigation, a group of twelve guys showed up and just went
to work cleaning up the massive mess. Word of this quickly spread through
the ship. Despite still being on lockdown, the cleaning crew quickly grew
to thirty, and then a hundred. And then a massive effort was under way,
hundreds waiting in lines that stretched through the hallways of the
affected level, waiting for the opportunity to spend a three hour shift
scraping mud or carting soil. Reid and I get clearance to spend half a day
standing around, then the other half helping in the ruined farm. The mood
was somber, but there was a certain sense of pride amongst everyone
helping.

Elsewhere on the ship, tensions seem to reach a boiling point. It was never
clear how the fire started or who was behind it, but it was apparent that
it had to do with Steven Caine and his politics. For the first time these
had gone from being a general nuisance to a real danger, and when people
started considering the implications of having food burned they got
angry. Like really angry.

First there was outcry for progress to be made on the investigation. Eden
appeared daily on the ship-wide TVs pledging to prosecute the perpetrators
of the crime, and each day he offered a progress report, which all seemed
to add up to a sum total of nothing.

And then the fear and anger was turned on Eden, and accusations were made
that he wasn't doing enough to investigate the cause of the fires. There
were cameras all over the ship, and the question on everyone's mind was how
anyone could procure, prepare and distribute the incendiary devices
required to start a fire as big as the one that had destroyed the farm. No
one had any easy answers, and since Eden was the top elected official on
the ship, it began to be widely believed that this was his fault.

In response, Steven Caine was confined to the brig under suspicion of
arson, despite the fact that he could prove he was nowhere near the farm
that day. More than a few guys wanted to string him up anyway.

Oddly enough, as much as I hated Steven, I was one of the first people to
try and reassure my shipmates that the fire hadn't done that much
damage. We'd lost one crop cycle on the affected farm, and while that
wasn't good, we weren't even dipping into the reserves to make up for the
loss. In fact, we'd solved most of the problem by slaughtering a group of
pigs early, making up for the reduced grain yields by eliminating the need
to feed the animals. Poor oinkers, like the fire was their fault.

This resulted in more pork on the menu, which in the end worked out better
for everyone. Well, everyone except the nine orthodox Jews and fourteen
Muslims on the ship, who probably didn't benefit from the pork surplus, nor
did they seem to appreciate my matzoh ball and bacon soup.

Regardless of the fact that food wasn't going to be in short supply any
time soon, the assault on the farm crossed a line. Steven's politics had
gone from the demonstration phase to the activism phase, and that made
everyone uncomfortable. After the alerts and lockdowns ended, there were
whispers that Captain Bianchi still wanted to start stationing armed troops
to the civilian areas, although for now it seemed like Eden remained
insistent on using the security force to handle things. To this end,
security force personnel were put on twenty-four hour duty in the main
lobby and concourses, and Eden added another two hundred to the force.

So it was that mid-November arrived along with a general sense of anger,
unease and confusion on the ship. But not so much for a certain
blonde-haired blue-banged boy, who, despite being concerned about recent
events, wanted life to return to normal.

For me, the novelty of having a new boyfriend hadn't even remotely begun
wearing off, and I spent my days feeling a bit high and thinking about when
I'd next see Conner, or when I'd next smell him, or when I'd next slither
up next to him naked. I didn't give a crap about the politics on the ship -
Conner more than kept my full attention, so much so that on occasion I
found myself making a beeline for the hospital on my lunch breaks, hoping
to con my boyfriend into a mid-day quickie.

"Devon, get up from under there," Conner sighs, trying to sound more
annoyed than bemused by the fact that I've crawled under his desk to offer
him a study break blowjob. "I have fifteen journals to get through this
afternoon, and then I have an eight hour shift. As much as I appreciate the
gesture..."

I cross my legs, determined to stay down here until I get what I want. "Aw,
come on," I gripe.  "How about this - you sit up there and read, and I stay
down here and get to work? It's multi- tasking!"

Conner's desk sits in the middle of the room, a computerized tabletop atop
two file cabinets. I've crawled between these in order to offer Conner some
Devon-induced pleasure while he works, an idea that I'm sure is at least a
little appealing to him. In fact, because he's wearing his typical hospital
kit, a set of navy blue scrubs, I can see that his body is responding to
the notion, the thin cotton material not constraining his growing erection
very well. I offer him a triumphal grin.

"Don't you even start smirking at me like that," he says, scolding me, but
scolding me with a smile on his face so that I know I'm in no real
trouble. I put a hand on his thigh; his skin is warm through the blue
fabric. "And stop that! There's no way I'm letting you blow me in here, and
there's no way I'm going to get anything done until you get up out of
there."

I try puppy dog-eyes. "Then we're at an impasse," I say. "Because I'm not
getting up until I get you off."

Conner leans forward and then there's an audible thunk against the
workspace over my head. I assume he's banged his head on the desk in
frustration. "Devon, you're incorrigible," he gripes.  "I have no idea what
I'm going to do with yo...AH!"

There's a rule with boyfriends, at least when I'm your boyfriend: don't let
your guard down.

Conner's pose of exasperation has required that he open his legs, and his
gasp is the result of a very rapid and proficient maneuver that I've made,
pulling his cock out of the fly of his scrubs and plunging it into my
mouth. It takes me about a tenth of a second...a new Devon world record.

When Conner speaks he sounds a little angrier than I'd hoped, but it fades
as he goes on. "Ok, Devon, dammit - over the line. I really, really need
to...get my work done...and I can't....um...the thing about having you come
down here all the time...Devon...uh, what was I saying?" While Conner
bitches, I do my thing, his cock and I happy to play amongst ourselves
while he babbles.

I swirl my tongue here and there, and then lick at all the right
spots. Conner's dick goes immediately hard. He's been stressing about his
job lately, and all the extra studying and work it requires, and I can
taste that on him. He's a little...muskier? Stronger? Tangier? Whatever it
is, I'm learning that stress changes his taste, but not in a bad way.

"Um...oh wow...ok, maybe a ten minute break. You're so bad, Devon...but
wow, so good too."  He leans back a little, relenting. I've gotten pretty
good at giving head, which is why I'm confused when Conner goes rigid,
almost as if I've hurt him. I pause, not sure what the problem is.

"Hey, sorry to bother you when you're studying. I was hoping to get Ryan
some lunch, but I need orders because of the meds." The voice doesn't
belong to Conner. Someone has come into the office without knocking, which
explains why he tensed up.

"Um...yeah, Ian, let me get you those. I'll...uh...I'll message them
downstairs in a second," Conner says, sounding a little nervous. Ah,
Ian. That explains things. The nurse has come up here to ask for
something. Fortunately, there's a partition in front of the desk that's
hiding me (and Conner's lower half) from view, so Ian is ignorant of my
presence. Not that I care either way - I don't mind people knowing that I
pleasure my guy whenever I have the chance.

"Yeah, thanks," the nurse says. "Ryan'll be happy. He hasn't eaten all day,
and I think he's a little cranky. But that'll teach him to try to carry
that much weight. Guys our age are strong, not indestructible, huh?"

"Um...yeah," Conner mumbles, new to the art of carrying on a conversation
while your cock is secretly hard and hanging out of your pants.

When Ian replies he sounds a little hurt, like he's mistaken Conner's
brusqueness as a brushoff.  "Ok. Well, I'll go take care of that. Sorry to
bother you when you're studying." The room is silent, and I mistakenly
assume that he's left. Then he speaks again. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks.
"You look a little flushed."

"Uh...yeah, I'm good," Conner says.

"Ok, well, I'll get back to it, then. I was just...oh." Ian's tone changes
as he puts two and two together. "Um...yeah. Devon's under the desk, isn't
he? I thought I saw him come up here. Uh, I'll let you two...um, yeah."

Busted.

Conner is quick to respond. "Ian, that's ridiculous. Maybe you should go
check on Ryan?"

"Yeah, Ian, maybe you should go check on Ryan," I call from under the desk,
trying not to giggle. Conner kicks at me, making me yelp.

I hear Ian leave the room. Once he's gone, Conner lets out a deep breath,
as if he'd been holding it the entire time the nurse was in the room. "Ok,
ok, enough," he says sharply. "Devon, get up out of there. That was totally
embarrassing."

"But we didn't finish," I whine.

This argument doesn't sway Conner, who isn't truly angry, although he is a
little mortified. I promise to go speak with Ian, asking him not to tell
anyone about catching us like that. When I tell Conner that I'm pretty sure
he'll agree to keep it between us, he lightens up a little, although he
puts his dick away and doesn't let me near it again. Shortly thereafter I'm
booted from his office, under threat of corporal punishment.

On the way out I stop to chat with Ian, who happily agrees not to mention
that he'd stumbled on me and Conner engaged in a little afternoon
delight. "I didn't see anything, anyway," he says.

"Well, the night is still young," I shrug, prancing off, feeling a little
cool about having been caught.

I do feel bad about embarrassing Conner, though. I think about Zane, and
how it can sometimes feel to be around someone with no boundaries. I bake
Conner a special pumpkin muffin with cream cheese frosting, hoping he isn't
mad enough to turn down spending the night with me. He doesn't answer
either way when I message him, asking him to stop by to see me after he
gets off work, no matter how late it is.

"Join Workers United?" A voice startles me back to reality as I walk around
the corner leading from the main lobby into the forward concourse. I'd been
off in my own world, thinking about Conner.

"Sorry?" I say, feeling a bit dumb.

The speaker is a tall guy with tan skin and a slight gap between his front
teeth. He smiles, and holds up his wristcom in the universal gesture that
means he wants to bump me some data.  "Workers United," he explains. "In
the wake of the fire, we're organizing a new political movement, one that
will make everyone a lot happier and put an end to fires and riots. Hi, I'm
Keef."

"Uh...hi," I reply. I hold my wristcom up. Keef taps his to mine lightly,
and the devices both beep, acknowledging the transfer. "What do you mean, a
new political movement?"

Keef smiles. "Well, as you know, Eden Stranton has been mayor for a while
now, and things aren't going so well. The work still isn't distributed
fairly, and we're seeing more and more discontent. We'd like to replace
Eden...and his Security Force. We'd like to return things to a system of
Democracy, and we'd like to make things more peaceful on the ship."

I look down at the screen on my wristcom, where Keef's info has popped
up. "Sounds like the same garbage Steven Caine keeps spouting," I mutter,
perhaps a little too frankly.

Keef looks taken aback. "Well...he is our president. We think he's gotten a
bad rep, and we're looking to be more organized. Our message is about
preventing the kinds of things..."

I cut Keef off. "Preventing things like riots, you mean. Like the riot that
broke my shoulder and put my friends' lives in danger. No offense, Keef,
but Steven Caine is a three day old pile of shit.  Keep your fucking
garbage to yourself." I press the trash button on my com, and it makes the
crumpling sound that indicates I've just send Keef's brochure into
electronic oblivion.

I walk away, angry, leaving Keef looking slightly perturbed.

Life with a doctor boyfriend can be tough, I'm learning. I go to bed around
midnight, eventually falling asleep. Conner's eight hour shift turns into
twelve, and it's the early morning hours when he enters the room. I wake up
immediately, sensing him nearby.

"You awake?" he whispers.

"Uh...yeah...still awake," I grumble. "What time is it?"

"It's just after three. You don't sound very awake. Maybe I should head
upstairs and see you tomorrow?"

The thought of him sleeping in his regular flat rather than by my side
helps me wake up. "Nah, may due ameffen," I slur sleepily.

Conner laughs, pulling his scrub top off over his head. "Sorry, I didn't
quite catch that Devy."

I sit up, my hair disheveled and sticking in multiple directions. I yawn
large and long before smacking my lips, scratching my tummy and saying,
"I...uh, I made you a muffin. I mean, like if you're hungry." I turn the
bedside light on so that Conner can see the treat I'd left out for him.

He picks it up from the table, eyeing the white frosting. "Hey, that was
really sweet of you. I forgot to eat dinner. At least, I think I did. Or
maybe I ate dinner and then forgot that I ate it." He laughs a tired laugh
and then collapses on the bed next to me. "Oh my god, I am so fried right
now."

I lean over and kiss his cheek, a gesture that still feels bold and
exciting. "Eat your muffin, then we'll get some sleep. I gotta go pee."

I hop to the bathroom, realizing that I'd had a few too many sodas before
bed. I relieve myself, and then run into Charlie on the way out. He's
wearing...very little. Just a tiny black thing, which is covered with a
cartoon skull pattern.

He's startled when he runs into me, and then turns bright red. "I...er...I
didn't expect to run into anyone this late," he says. I laugh. Charlie and
Mike had enjoyed the flat to themselves on most nights, at least until I
started sleeping here more often. Sean and Dog were known to bunk out in
one of the rooms, too. Not that this should prevent Charlie or Mike from
prancing around in their tiniest undies - we'd all seen them in far less.

"No worries," I reply. "Coming or going?" I ask. Charlie looks at me
inquisitively. I clarify, "So, are you coming from sex with Mike, or going
back in there for some?"

He gets what I'm asking and offers me a big, bashful grin. Walking over to
a sink, a little strut in his step, he says, "Well...both I guess. You?"

I step up to the sink next to his and wash my hands a second time, just to
have something to do.  I explain that Conner worked late, and that we'll
probably just fall asleep right away. He'd looked bushed, and I'm not quite
awake. We gossip about our boyfriends a little, Charlie looking buff and
awesome in his silly undies. He explains that he'd made them to match an
outfit he'd made Mike with a similar pattern. I remember that one...it was
cool.

I look at Charlie's smiling image in the bathroom mirror. "They're pretty
great guys, huh? Mike and Conner?" I say, sleepy but thoughtful.

"Yeah, they really are," he replies. "We're lucky."

"Yeah, we are," I agree. "And some of us are about to get lucky, or so I
heard. You better hop to it." I reach over and give him a playful slap on
the ass. The sound resonates throughout the bathroom, making us both laugh.

"Ok, ok, I'm going!" he says, padding off to his boyfriend's waiting arms,
along with all his other fun parts.

I look at myself in the mirror. Not long ago I would have thought of my
reflection as that of New Devon, the bolder, brasher boy I'd become after
my accident. Now I just thought of myself as plain old Devon. Not that I
wasn't bold and brash - New Devon was definitely still with me. I just felt
like I'd attained a good balance.

I head back to the bedroom, expecting Conner to be either half asleep or
totally conked out.

"That took you long enough," he says when I enter the room. He's not so
much asleep as he is totally naked and waiting for me, lying bare above the
covers, his long erection pointing proudly at the ceiling. He's got his
trademark bashful grin displayed at full force, but there's a mischievous
glint in his eye.

"I...um...hi," I laugh, gawking at my naked boyfriend.

He lets me look, and then says, "It's cold in here and you took forever in
the bathroom. Are you going to come over here and finish what you started
this afternoon, or do I have to beg?"

In two paces I'm naked too, at four I'm getting hard, and at six I leap
into Conner's arms. "Whoa, watch it!" he exclaims, laughing at my
eagerness. ""I'm usually a little sensitive about guys jumping on my
crotch." I hadn't kneed him in the balls or anything, but apparently I'd
come too close for comfort.

"Sorry."

He offers up a sly look. "It's okay, but maybe you can kiss it better?"

I nestle up against Conner, loving the way his naked skin feels against
mine. "I think that can be arranged," I reply. "Wow, look at you all coy
and sexy. When'd you get to be such a perv?"

He runs his fingers through my bangs. "I think it was about the time I
shacked up with the hottest boy on the ship...on any ship, for that
matter."

Compliments from Conner always go a long way toward getting him anything he
wants from me.  "That's sweet," I joke. "When I'm done you'll have to
introduce me to him." I don't give him a chance to respond, quickly moving
down his body and taking his long, erect cock between my lips.

Every day with Conner is a new experience, and every tumble feels new and
special. I know this may wear off someday, but for now I relish every
moment I get to spend with him. I'm learning more and more about his body -
more about its needs and more about all the little things he likes. I
employ some of those now. While I suck on him I very lightly stroke his
balls, only coming into contact with the soft, warm skin there in light,
whispery touches.

It does what I intend - it drives him wild. He gasps and moans, grabbing
and clawing at the bedsheets. "Devon, ooh, Devon. Wow...slow down, that's
going to make me go off really fast."

I stop for a moment to ask, "It's after three, and I know you have an early
shift. I can do this all night, but what's best for you?"

I circle my thumb over his tip while he thinks about this for a second, and
then he says, "You're right...ah! I really...ah!...should get some
sleep. You can go to town, I guess...ah...ah...but then will you fuck me
when I'm done?"

I smile, and then giggle, as boys sometimes do when asked to fuck their
boyfriends. I go back to work on Conner; he immediately starts moaning and
bucking his hips, now not worried about making this one a quickie.

His taste becomes a little saltier - something I'm learning means he's
precumming a lot and getting excited enough to shoot. Some things might not
be great to stick in your mouth, but Conner's cock isn't one of them. I
love the feel of his shaft between my lips, and the way he tastes. I love
the little slurping noises I make when sucking and licking him, and I love
the way he gets so hard. His smell down here is wonderful, sexy and
beautiful.

While I'm thinking about how hot my guy is, he attempts to make
conversation. "I'm sorry...ah...about this afternoon. That was hot,
just...ah...ah...unexpected. And then...ah...Ian bolting in like
that...ah...wow...oh man. What's wrong with me? I should just
be...ah...enjoying...you're so good at that."

I let him babble; his words are soaked with an odd mix of lust and
exhaustion, and it's cute. I reach up with my left hand to grab his balls a
little firmer. My fingers have gotten a little cold from being out in the
open air. Conner give a cute little squeal.

"Ok...ok...ok," he gasps. "I'm about to...I'm about to...I'm about to..."

When he starts panting heavily, as he's doing now, and repeating everything
three times, I know very well what he's about to do. He doesn't need to
tell me.

"I'm cumming, Devon! I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" he yelps, his entire body
tensing and writhing and flushing with pleasure.

And here's the deal. Over the past two weeks I've learned that Conner's
loads are big. Always.  It doesn't matter if I make him orgasm or if he
does it himself. It doesn't matter if we've taken our time getting him
there, or gone quick like we have tonight. Every single time, and I mean
every single time, he sprays all over the place. I really, really like it.

It's made me start something new with him, particularly when blowing
him. Because he cums so much, I feel like I can have the best of all worlds
with his orgasm, and I break them into several stages.

Stage one - tasting. I smile as Conner's dick grows harder just before he
starts spraying. I tongue his slit, loving the way it feels when it starts
ejecting his cum into me, which lands on my tongue in gooey spurts. His
spunk is sweet and slightly tangy; it reminds me vaguely of agave. I let
his first two ejaculations fill my mouth with his essence.

Stage two - feeling. I love feeling Conner's load in my mouth, but I like
it on my skin too, especially my face. The first time had been by accident,
when pointing his cock directly at me caused his load to fly right into my
eye. It had stung, but it had also been sexy. Now I'm in the habit of
pulling off him after a couple of spurts, letting his third and forth shots
hit me squarely in the face while keeping my eyes shut. His load is warm
against my skin, wonderful in its sticky wetness. I feel some of it land in
my hair, which makes me gasp. I like that.

Stage three - watching. I release Conner's penis. He's thrashing around,
his sensitivity growing as he orgasms. I watch him intently, staring as his
final shots spurt out of his tip to land in soggy splats on his flat
belly. Conner moans and comes up on his elbows, causing the semen to
immediately begin running down his belly.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" he groans, eyes winced closed in pleasure. A deep sigh
follows his final ejaculation; his cock throbs lightly, sticking straight
up. It almost seems to be saying, "Look at what I just did!" And I
am...looking, feeling, tasting - Conner's jizz is in my mouth, on my face,
all over him, and I'm loving it.

I finish my "Conner is cumming" ritual, swallowing his load and then
lowering my face to his tummy, rubbing my nose in the puddle of semen that
has accumulated around his navel. I let my cheek brush against the skin of
his belly, and groan at the sensation of the stickiness there. It's making
me wild...it's making me harder than hard...I feel a cold, slimy strand of
precum land on my thigh, dripping from my completely and utterly engorged
penis.

"Enjoying yourself down there?" Conner asks, his voice soaked with sleepy
contentment.

"Mmmm...I really am," I sigh. I reach down and take my cock in my hand,
pleasure streaking up my spine. "Uh...uh...this is so hot, lying on you
like this, all covered in cum. I'm totally about to blow." And it's true, I
am.

"Hold it there," he says in his best silly authoritative voice. "You
promised to fuck me after. I've been waiting for it all day, and a promise
is a promise. So get to it."

He's joking about holding me to my promise - sort of. Since we'd gotten
together I'd learned that Conner loves getting fucked, and I love doing
it. The other way around may be true too, but after my first experience I'd
taken a break and had been on top every time. I'm boned...completely boned,
and I have no problem fulfilling his request.

I lube up, not that I really need it, precum is virtually gushing out of
me. Conner flips over, lying facedown and sticking his ass up in the air a
little. I smile - I'd recently had a good time, a really, really, really
good time, fucking Conner by penetrating him from above. He offers himself
to me in this way now.

I lower my body down onto his, and then locate the right spot. I press into
him, breaching his warm hole and sliding deep inside him. Conner sighs
deeply. "I love you inside me. I feel you there every time I think of you,
and I feel you there for hours after you've fucked me. I love you, Devon."

He flexes his ass, stimulating my turgid cock with his warmth. My response
is a little less romantic and eloquent. "Gah! Ergh, wow...erk!" I squeal.

Conner lays his head down on the pillow. "That's what I like to hear, my
boy in heat. Make it feel good."

And I do. I thrust in and out, slowly at first. I'm still not a practiced
sex expert - well, not when it comes to fucking - but I'm getting the hang
of it. I'm learning about using my body as leverage, and about how to
position my arms and legs so that I can move fluidly and sensually in and
out of my boyfriend. And I'm learning why ten million years of evolution
left us with such muscular asses - fucking is real work!

I go a little faster, and I think about the skin of my body and the skin of
Conner's body. I think about the parts that are coming into contact now,
and how they're making me feel.

I push a little harder, grunting. I feel my hair grow damp with sweat. I
focus on Conner's butt, the way it moves as I thrust into him. It's too
much to take, the raw sexiness of it.

"Sorry...uh...uh...I'm too turned on. I'm gonna...ah...I'm not gonna last."

He doesn't mind. "That's my boy. Shoot it off, Devy. You feel so good
there, let me feel it spray.  Do it to me...ah...you're right there on the
spot. Fuck me...fuck me until you shoot."

"Uh, uh, I want to."

"Then do it, Devon. Cum in me."

"I'm...yeah...ok...I think I will...yeah..." I thrust faster, feeling my
mind explode with hormones and lust. It feels like Conner is all around me,
enveloping my entire body in pleasure.

"Devon...ugh...yeah," he gasps.

"Oh...Ohhhhh...Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." I moan in increasing intensity anf
volume, feeling my orgasm creeping up on me. And then I'm
there. "AAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I scream, perhaps a little too loudly. I shoot my
load into Conner, overcome with intense pleasure. It's like my body is on
fire, and I don't know what to do to deal with the sensations I'm
feeling. I run my fingernails roughly over the skin of his back, leaving
eight long, red streaks in his flesh. He moans and encourages me to
continue.

When finished, I collapse on top of Conner. I can't stop panting, and my
pulse has increased to a ludicrous pace. "You have a good time back there?"
he eventually asks.

"I...can't speak yet...wow...I think you almost killed me," I sputter,
still out of breath.

"You take your time," he laughs.

When I come down from my high, I roll off Conner. He turns to me and we
kiss and nuzzle, licking playfully at one another's lips. "That was great,"
I say, fatigue descending on me like a gently billowing blanket. I yawn,
closing my eyes. "What a great way to tire ourselves out."

Conner's green eyes sparkle with more than a little pride, then he looks
thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess," he says.

There's something in his tone that concerns me. I'd worked hard (sort of)
to satisfy him, and he didn't sound satisfied. I let loose with a long
stream of questions. "Was it not good? Did I do something wrong? Did I go
too fast? Too rough with the fingernails? I kinda came fast...was that
bad?"

Conner puts a palm to my mouth to get me to stop speaking. "Hold it, whoa,
stop talking" he begs, laughing when I try to keep asking questions despite
him clamping my mouth shut. "Wow, jeez Devon. I didn't mean that at
all. You were great. You're always great. It's just..." He stops speaking
and blushes slightly.

"What?"

"Well, it's kind of embarrassing," he says.

I have to call him on this. "My phallus was just up your ass. I think we're
beyond embarrassing."

He slaps me on the shoulder. "Pervert. But you're right, sorry. I was going
to say...you were really hitting the spot there at the end. You know...up
inside me. It's late, and I should go to sleep, but, well..."

Conner rolls over to show me that he's still rock-hard, apparently from the
stimulation of my fucking him. I get why he's shy. We've had a couple of
conversations about how sometimes you need to jerk off right after sex,
especially when it's really good. But despite everything we've done
together, the boy is still shy about masturbation. Or at least doing it
while I'm around.

"You're so silly," I tell him. "I need seconds all the time too. Here,
let's do it together." I roll onto my back and start stimulating my
cock. It's tired, as am I, but my body is still happy to respond.  It flops
around a bit, but then I go hard.

Conner waits a moment before joining in, which is cute. But then he does,
needing the second orgasm more than I do.

"Uh..uh...here I go!"  I exclaim, cumming first. My load erupts up onto my
body.

"Yeah...yeah...ERGH!" he yells when he shoots, spraying everywhere. His
second load of the night might be bigger than my first.

And then I hug him, our bodies flushed and warm. Usually we'd clean up, but
we're both totally exhausted. In a decision that Dog later proclaims as
ultimately hot before going red in the face and running off to the
bathroom, the two of us snuggle up together, sticky and slimy, content to
fall asleep despite the various wet spots on the mattress. "I love you,
Conner," I sigh, glad that he came by tonight.

* * * * *

Life with a boyfriend is a whole new set of life lessons, I discover.

One such lesson is about personal control. Unfortunately for Conner,
showing up at my flat and offering me the best sex ever only encouraged me
to go after him more. Whether he be sleeping, working or studying, I felt
compelled to tell him every time I wanted him, and also compelled to try
seducing him.

But there were going to be some challenges to dating a doctor. I started
understanding the implications of this one afternoon when I pushed Conner a
little over the edge. "Look, Devon, I need to talk to you about something,"
he said, frustration seeping into his voice.

Uh-oh.

I'd been begging him to take the afternoon off. I wanted him to go tanning
down in Bottomside with me, which was all Zane's fault, really. He and I
had been goofing off one afternoon and I'd tackled him. He'd told me to get
my pale British ass off him, an innocuous enough comment.  This had led to
a two hour conversation in which I became obsessed with both the color of
my butt. While Zane ultimately apologized for hitting a sore spot, he
wasn't wrong - without the San Diego surfing, I was getting a little paler
than I liked. I'd promised myself that I'd try to get some color in the
tanning booths.

My first visit to the tanning beds had been another life lesson. Turns out,
they're way harsher than the sun, even the San Diego sun. Twenty minutes
was a little aggressive for a first trip, something Conner chastised me for
when I came home a little pink and smelling faintly cooked.

The second visit had worked out better - a lower setting ensured that. But
on that visit I'd begun thinking about how the tanning bed was similar to
the medical scanner, and that had made me think about Sneak. Almost
needless to say, I'd cleaned up more than my sweat at the end of the
tanning session.

This led to a fantasy about making it with Conner in the tanning bed. Which
was why I'd been trying to get him to take the afternoon off, asking him
nicely, then when that hadn't worked, begging him. This was probably what
got him into "lecture mode."

"I love that you want me to be with you all the time," he said, softening
his tone. "It's cute and it makes me all fluttery."

I smile, about to point out how silly it sounds for a doctor to use the
word "fluttery," but he doesn't offer an opening for any Devon
commentary. "But I need to work, and I need to study," he says. "I don't
like it, but that's how it is. I wish I could get off at noon every day,
but a lot of people are relying on me. There's only Doctor Moreno and the
four of us." He was referring to the four junior doctors, who'd been med
students before leaving Earth. Providing medical services to over five
thousand people was a full time job for all of them.

I feel like a scolded little kid, and I'm sure he picks up on it. "Sorry,"
I mumble, kicking my foot into the carpet of his office.

Conner sighs. "No, it's not something for you to be sorry about." He sits
on the edge of his desk and then motions for me to sit down next to him,
which I do. "It's something I feel like I should be sorry about. You
deserve a full time boyfriend, and I have a feeling that's what you want,
especially because this is your first relationship."

"No, it's not like that," I say. "I know you need to focus on your career
too, I just get a little excited any time I think we might get to hang
out."

"I do too," he says. "And trust me, when I get excited to see you it shows,
especially in these scrubs." Conner bends back a little to show me that,
indeed, he's not entirely flaccid. He smiles at me - his green eyes seem to
sparkle, and now I'm the fluttery one. "Anyway, it seems like we're on the
same page. We want to be together all the time, but we can't be. Sometimes
I worry that's going to cause problems down the road."

I open my mouth to tell him that this will never happen, but then I stop
myself. I did get a little upset when his shifts ran long, so I could see
how he'd think this might someday evolve into frustration, annoyance, maybe
even anger. "So what do we do?" I ask.

He thinks about it for a moment before replying. "How about this? I'm going
to figure out a way to set my schedule so that I can block off some
Devon-specific hours. Every week, those hours are yours, no matter what. If
I try to study or get distracted, you have my permission to climb under my
desk, maul me, whatever. You just have to promise that if we have trauma
patients you'll give me a rain check."

I get a naughty glint in my eye thinking about what I'll do the first time
Conner misses Devon time. This alone makes the deal worth it, and I agree
it's a good idea. "And that's not to say those will be the only hours you
get from me, but they'll be guaranteed hours," he says.  "Another idea is
that you spend some more time with your club."

I knew he was referring to the wank club. "I spend a lot of time with the
guys," I say.

"Yeah, but horny time, or just hanging out?" he asks.

I thought about it. Since that night I'd gotten together with Conner, I
hadn't been with anyone else. Not for a tumble, or a wank, or even a quick
make-out session. "Just hanging out," I answer. "But I like being with you
more than anyone else. And I don't want to hurt your feelings."

Conner smiles shyly; I get a little hard. "I appreciate that," he says,
"but we talked about this. We set rules and everything. Part of that was
because I knew this would happen, I knew my schedule might conflict with
keeping up with your...teenage needs."

I sigh. "I know. But I like being with you. I'm okay waiting, and just
doing it less often."

He gives me a dubious look. "Really?" he asks, more than a little
sarcastically. "How many times have you come down here so far this week to
get me to take some time off so we can have sex?"

"Er...two?" I ask sheepishly, hoping he won't realize today had been one of
those times.

"Seven," he says, laughing. "And it's only Thursday. Which is great, but it
tells me that I'm not meeting your needs. Not all of them, at least."

"No, you are," I protest. "It's just...it's so good when we do it. I mean,
better than anything ever in my life. Better than any of the guys, or even
all the guys put together. Zane is hot, but when I'm with you...it's like
my soul is on fire. Why would I want to fool around with them when I can
have you later? My body is screaming for yours every minute of every day,
and my mind is too. I just...I'm sorry...you get me so frenzied, just
thinking about you does that to me."

I'm being totally honest, and it makes Conner blush. "I appreciate that, I
really do," he says. "But part of the reason I wanted you to stay in your
club was because I knew my schedule wouldn't offer us enough intimate time
together. You get me going too, and I'd love to spend the rest of my life
naked in your bed. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do,
but please consider relieving a little of your stress with your friends if
I'm not around, okay?"

I have to laugh. Here's my perfect boyfriend, telling me to go mess around
so that our relationship stays perfect. "Okay, I'll think about it."

"Cool." He pats me on the shoulder, and then hugs me. "Devon, Devon,
Devon. I don't know what I did to deserve you, and I really don't know what
I'm going to do with you."

"Me too...er, I mean me with you. Or about you. I don't know what I did for
you to do what you did to deserve...um, er, yeah," I laugh, purposefully
stumbling on my words trying to be cute.  Conner gets it and pinches my
nose.

"Hey, before I get back to studying, I want to show you something," he
says. We hop off the desk and he leads me down the hall and into an empty
exam room.

"I thought all the patient rooms were upstairs," I say. The second floor
was where the clinic was located, and where I'd stayed when I'd been
hurt. The first floor, where we were now, was all offices and storage.

Conner shrugs. "They are. This one is for teaching." He shuts the door
behind us.

"Then what are we....mrfrmm?" I don't finish my sentence because my mouth
is suddenly obstructed by Conner's, my tongue unable to operate owing to
the fact that he's shoved his between my lips. I soften my stance as I go
weak at the knees, and hormones race throughout my body.

Conner pulls back, ending the kiss, And then, with one rapid move he spins
me around entirely, pressing my body firmly against the wall. It's cool and
smooth against my chest. With one hand he pulls both my arms up over my
head, holding them in place, while the other presses into my pants.

"Ergh...ah...whoa," I moan, somewhat shocked as Conner's fingers find my
rapidly inflating cock.

"Like that?" he asks huskily.

"What...ah...happened to...uh...not having time?" I ask, my speech coming
in gasps as Conner runs his fingers over my tip.

He laughs, a panting, horny chuckle that lands in my ear as a warm
breath. "I said I didn't have time to meet all your needs, I never said I
wouldn't take the time to meet some of them," he explains. "Besides, I owe
you. You said I set your soul on fire."

I nod. "You do, Conner. My soul, my body. Everything."

My boyfriend respond appropriately, pressing my pants downward so that my
rock hard erection springs free. I turn to him, smiling, horny, hard, and
it's only a few seconds later that his pants have joined mine in a pool
around our ankles. I smile when I notice that he's wearing underwear I gave
him - a pair of white trunks with blue stripes. I'm wearing - er, had been
wearing - a pair of white briefs with a similar pattern. We match today -
awesome.

Conner takes my cock into his hand and I reach for his. It's a quick,
frantic event, but it's awesome. We stroke each other wildly, both of our
bodies consumed with lust. Conner takes my shirt off, pulling it roughly
over my head. I go to do the same to him, but he pulls us together, kissing
me roughly.

Before long, I feel that oh-so-wonderful sensation in my
groin. "C-Conner...I'm cumming," I gasp.

He wraps his free arm around me, pulling me closer. "Me too," he pants.

"Uh...uh...your shirt...it'll get...uh!"

"Fuck it. Cum on me, Devy." That's all it takes, the request and his use of
my pet name.

"URGHH...Jesus!" I moan. Conner hugs me tighter against his body. Our cocks
press together, slippery hands trying to stroke them despite our
proximity. I feel my semen surge forth, and I almost fall to the ground
groaning and panting. Conner is also gasping, making a cute chirping sound
he sometimes uses when he comes. I feel a hot, sticky warmth spread out
over my lower tummy where his penis is ejecting his load against my skin.

We let our orgasms subside. I feel glorious, and quite proud of
myself. Conner gives me a goofy smile, one that is all at once loving, sexy
and sheepish. We kiss deeply before I say, "Yeah, see - you set my soul on
fire."

As I'd feared, Conner's top has become stained with spunk; sticky splotches
have turned the fabric an even darker blue here and there. He pulls it off,
cleaning himself off before moving to wipe our semen off my body. "We have
a bunch of these, fortunately," he says, shrugging. "Life with you,
Devon...there's more laundry, that's all I'm saying.

We get dressed. Well, I dress. Conner pulls up his scrubs. He smiles at me
again as he unlocks the door, looking particularly sexy topless, his chest
flushed from our activity. I think we're both feeling a little proud about
our naughty rendezvous in the exam room when we walk out into the hall -
running right into Ian.

"Er...hi guys," he says, eyeing the both of us. There's really no question
what we'd been up to.  My hair is tousled to hell and Conner is half
naked. "You look...relaxed." He blushes, which is really easy to spot on
the pale skin of his cheeks.

I consider making a joke, but Conner goes for the more direct
approach. "Dammit, Ian. Do you have some sort of sex radar? Every time,
man."

"I try," Ian says, his face even. Then he smiles. "In my defense, Devon and
you have been doing that a lot in here. I mean...it's not like I'm sneaking
into your bedroom to catch you fucking, you know. I do work here."

"Fair enough," Conner says. I know he's not really angry, just
embarrassed. "And I did tell you to meet me down here," he says. Conner
tells me that he and Ian need to do some work together, and I take this as
my cue to wander off. Looking at my wristcom, I notice that I can make my
tanning appointment if I hustle. I tell the boys bye and then pad off
toward the exit.

After I've rounded the corner, I swear I hear Ian say, "So, is he as good
in the sack as he looks like he'd be?"

To which I swear Conner replies, "You have no idea." I get a funny feeling
in my tummy, and feel the last glob of semen drip out of my cock. Yep,
Conner does it for me alright.

* * * * *

Although the idea of your boyfriend asking you to sleep around so that you
aren't a constant distraction may seem a little odd, I did take the
conversation seriously. I didn't leap into bed with any of the guys, but I
did make an effort to spend more of my free time doing something besides
trying to seduce Conner. The last Friday of November arrives with very
little fanfare, other than the little trumpet sound I make in the morning
when I wake up to a free day.

My first thought, of course, is to figure a way to get Conner to spend it
with me. Then I chastise myself, going so far as to slap myself on the ass
as punishment. Then I message some of the guys to see what they're up to,
figuring some time with one of them might cure my Conner addiction. Turns
out that Sean is free.

"I thought we'd lost you to boyfriend land," he jokes when he greets me
outside the door to the unoccupied flat.

"Who, me?" I ask, feigning ignorance. "I have no idea what you're talking
about."

"Yeah, right," he replies. "It's been, what? Three weeks since the two of
you got together? I think I've seen you twice."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I grunt.

Sean punches me in the shoulder. "Not that I blame you, mate. Shacking up
with a new boyfriend is one of the great rites of passage. And this is
Conner we're talking about. He's a total hottie. I'm surprised either of
you can walk straight."

"I am now, not so much at first," I reply, joking. Then when I realize what
I've said I turn red. "I mean, you know."

Sean smiles at my bashfulness. "Yeah, dude, I do. Last one there buys
drinks afterward?"

We'd agreed to make this a very special hang-out afternoon. After months of
talking about it, Sean and I were going to initiate my friend in the art of
surfing. And apparently also making a mad dash to the wet farm. "Deal," I
answer. No sooner are the words out of my mouth than the both of us take
off, running down the hall as fast as we can.

Perhaps it's immature to be running through the ship, and maybe it's not
the safest thing to do.  But it's sure as fuck fun. Halfway down the hall I
sideswipe Sean, sending him plowing into a column. I slows him up, and I
hear him yell at me from behind. "You're going to pay for that, Chasen!"

In the end we elect to take slightly different courses to the farm. I win,
but then it wasn't really a fair contest. I've been jogging, sneaking and
exploring these halls for months. Sean didn't know about the emergency
stairs that bypass several long hallways, and he loses by about thirty
seconds.

"You...are such...a cheater," he says, his breath coming in ragged puffs.

I'm in a similar condition. "Maybe...you're just...getting old," I say. We
enter the wet farm - Area W4, one of my favorite places on the ship. And it
was just released from heightened security the day before, meaning that for
the first time in weeks you could come in here even if you weren't assigned
to work the farm. That meant that the pool was once again open - yee-haw!

"Speaking of getting old," Sean says as we make our way across the long
metal grate at the entry to the tank, "isn't it your birthday next month?
Just under three weeks, right?"

I cringe. I knew the guys knew my birthday, and I knew that was both a very
good and a very bad thing. AJ had turned nineteen the week before, and
although his party had been great, the "after party" in the unoccupied flat
had resulted in quite a mess. Sadly I'd missed out on whatever led to that,
but as a plus I'd also missed the hours and hours of cleanup that had taken
place over the next several days. Man they'd made a mess. I still wasn't
sure...I mean, all that paint?

"Yeah, December fifteenth," I say, sealing my fate. And then I think of
something. "Hey, I wonder if Conner knows it's my birthday?"

Sean rolls his eyes. "Are you serious? I think he has a whole dossier on
you. Dog and I ran into him at lunch the other day, so we sat together. It
was like a whole hour of "everything you ever wanted to know about Devon
but were afraid to ask." If there's a pop quiz later, we're fully
prepared. We know your favorite flower, what you like with your fish tacos,
how cute your ass is in silk shorts..."

I interrupt. "He did not say that, did he?"

"Nah, I think that one was Dog. He still has a bit of a crush on you, you
know?" Under some circumstances a guy might not like his boyfriend having a
crush on me, but this was life in the wank club. Sean seemed turned on by
it, actually, feeling secure in Dog's love for him and my earnest
friendship for them both. Plus, I think he was plotting a way to get the
two of us to service him.

I access the tank controls. "Hey...this is already set for surfing. That's
odd."

Sean asks what I mean. I explain that the tank has the capability to
simulate waves, much like the waves you once found on Earth. Here it's used
to promote water circulation and a more natural environment, but it also
made this an ideal surf spot. Well, the only surf spot. Usually I had to
activate the wave generators, but they're already on. It doesn't take long
to figure out why. Out in the tank, I see that someone else had the same
idea. A guy in a black wetsuit is paddling out into the tank.

I shrug, and suggest we suit up. We shuck our clothes down to our board
shorts, Sean looking buff and hot in his. I walk over to a storage
shed. Eight or nine surfboards were stored here - the farm was growing in
popularity as a swimming spot, although the water was a little cold for
most.

I select my usual board, and pick one out for Sean. "I think this one will
be good for you," I say.  He nods and takes it from me. The agenda for
today is a light lesson - just get him used to balancing on the board in
the water. If he likes it, we'll move on to more advanced stuff. Pretty
soon I might have a surfing buddy.

We climb down into the tank. There's a section that's only five feet
deep. This is where we'll be practicing today. "Oh my god, this water is
freezing!" Sean exclaims.

"The whales don't think so," I reply.

I get ready to give Sean a basic rundown on surfing when the other guy
comes in on a pretty sweet wave. But of course it would be. When you have
control over a tank like this, you can make them all great rides. The other
surfer slows as he comes into the shallows and then falls into the water
with a graceful sidestep known to many a surfer. When he resurfaces, I
recognize him immediately as Lukas, the guy who helps run the coffee shop
next to Charlie's store.

"Hey guys," he says. "Water's great today. Well, it's great every
day. Didn't know you surfed, Devon."

Lukas's hair, which is normally arranged in inky black spikes, hangs in
long dripping locks. "Uh, yeah, I do," I say. Then I realize Sean might not
know Lukas. I'd only met him myself when I'd started going to his cafe on
occasion for my morning coffee. "Have you met Lukas?" I ask Sean.

When he shakes his head I introduce the two boys. We chat a bit, me telling
Lukas that I'd picked up surfing in San Diego, and him talking a little
about surfing all over Australia, particularly his home town of Sydney. I
explain that I'm teaching Sean.

"Good for you," he says when Sean explains he's always wanted to
learn. "Hopefully the new planet has beaches, eh? Maybe someplace like
Sydney and San Diego combined? That'd be brilliant."

We concur that a giant beach planet, possibly pre-dotted with fish taco
restaurants, would be an ideal new home.

Lukas leaves us to our lesson, hopping on his board and swimming back out
into the tank. I work with Sean for a couple of hours before he declares
himself in the initial stages of hypothermia and offers to buy me a
coffee. He insinuates that there are other ways I could help him warm up,
and I tell him to save it for later that night when, as usual on a Friday,
the gang would be congregating in the unoccupied flat for "poker night."
Conner has to work late, and despite feeling a little odd about it, that
night I return to the club. We have a pretty fucking good time.


* * * * *


Real life intrudes once more the following Tuesday, when I return to my
room in the unoccupied flat exhausted from work and wishing that Conner
were around. I plop down on my bed, the telltale crinkle of paper sounding
from under my ass. I discover than I've sat on a note from Patrick.

I read it. "Devon, meet Reid and me in the library at eight o'clock. We'll
be in our usual place.  Please don't tell anyone you're coming, and leave
your wristcom at home. This last part is very important."

I sigh. If I'm to make the requested meeting, I have to leave
immediately. I don't want to go, but I feel compelled to. I leave the flat
straight away, not even bothering to shower despite the fact that I'm a
little ripe.

On the way to the library I ponder what Patrick and Reid could want. I'd
seen less and less of them lately, Reid working overtime with security
force following the fires and Patrick becoming more entrenched with
Steven's group. I rarely saw either of them, and when I did they were never
together. I had a new boyfriend and then the whole wank club, but that
didn't mean I didn't miss hanging out with them.

I enter the library, which is really more a data storage center and place
to hang out. When Patrick says the usual place, I assume he means the
isolated study carrels where I'd met Reid a couple of weeks back. This is
where I find my friends, sitting opposite one another. They're whispering
to each other in hushed tones, solemn looks on their faces.

"What do you want?" I asked, a little more tersely than I intend. I'd never
been on board with the guys' plan, and this was accentuated by the recent
events.

My friends both look surprised by my demeanor. "Wow," Reid says. "Nice to
see you too."

I apologize, plopping down next to Reid. I explain that I'm sore and tired
from a long double shift, first in the kitchens and then in one of the
processing plants, where we were currently working to turn a crop of flax
into oil.

The guys accept my apology, and then verify that I left my wristcom
behind. I say that I had, not sure why this was important. Patrick turns to
me and says, "Devon, you know that we trust you completely, right?"

"Um...yeah," I respond uncertainly.

He goes on. "Cool. Because I don't want anything we're about to ask you to
seem like we're questioning you. But something is going on."

"Uh, okay," I say.

Reid continues, speaking in a hushed whisper, "Do you remember the data
chip you gave me?  The one Patrick made?" I nod. "We need to know if that
chip was ever out of your possession.  Like even for a minute. Patrick gave
it to you here, right?"

Again I nod. Patrick had given me a data chip one afternoon here at this
very table, asking me to take it to Reid. I think back. I'd slipped the
chip into my pocket after he'd given it to me and then returned to the
unoccupied flat, where I'd kept it until taking it to Reid a couple of
hours later. I tell this to the guys.

"Ok, so it was there in your other flat," Patrick says,
introspectively. "Was it in your sight the whole time? And was anyone else
there?"

I tell him that the chip had been in my pocket, which had been unattended
in my room while I was taking a shower. Zane and Sean had also been there
that afternoon, although I didn't recall if they'd arrived before or after
I showered.

"What do you think?" Reid asks, once I've finished my recollection.

Patrick looks worried. "I don't know. Zane and Sean seem okay. I've never
seen either of them around Steven's guys, but that doesn't mean anything."

"What do you mean 'around Steven's guys?'" I ask. It seems like Patrick is
accusing them of something.

Patrick thinks about this for a moment, and then answers. "Okay, let me try
to explain. But first, I want to understand a couple of things. The only
place the chip was unattended was in that other flat? And this is a place
only you and your friends know about?" He mentions a few names, guys I've
told him are in the wank club.

"Yeah, and we have some new members," I say, blushing a little. "But other
than that, no one knows I go there. At least, I don't think they do." I
knew Sneak knew, but I don't say anything about him. And lately I'd begun
to suspect that the scrubs might know Charlie was living there.  And now
Conner came by frequently...I explain to Patrick that the unoccupied flat
isn't exactly a highly guarded secret.

"Well, here's our problem," Reid explains, "that chip contained information
that should have prevented the attack on the farm, or at least told us who
was behind it."

"W-What?" I stutter. "You guys knew about the attack beforehand? Why the
fuck didn't you tell anyone?"

"Shh, not so loud," Reid scolds me. "We didn't know for sure. We suspected
that something was going on, but we didn't know what. What we had was vague
information that some of Steven's underlings were planning something. To be
honest, we thought it was going to be another protest."

"I spent weeks gathering info," Patrick says. "And everything I found out
was encrypted in the MIPs on that chip. I gave it to Reid because Security
Force has the authority to investigate leads like that...they immediately
began watching everyone on my list, including Steven."

"And?" I ask.

Reid answers, "And nothing. The data was compromised."

"Compromised?" I have no idea what he's talking about.

"What Reid means," Patrick says, "is that the information was supposed to
be useful in preventing another protest, or anything else like that. We
suspect that the riot in the commons wasn't an accident, as Steven's guys
claim. I believe they meant for things to get out of hand, but we never had
any evidence of that. Now that I'm in his inner circle, I was able to
collect information on the people who might have been planning another
incident. I passed this on to Reid, and he passed it on to Security
Force. The plan was for Security Force to pay close attention to the people
on the list. If they did anything, we'd nab them."

"We hoped to use the info to put a stop to all this nonsense," Reid
says. "We thought we'd be able to find out if anything bad was going to go
down."

"Like an entire farm burning down, and almost destroying the entire ship?"
I ask wryly.

"Exactly," Patrick says.

"So what went wrong?"

Reid answers, "We monitored the guys, and nothing seemed odd. There were no
plans, no chatter, nothing. Then the fire happened, but there was
absolutely nothing to connect them to it."

I offer a dubious look. "So you're saying that Steven and the douchebags he
hangs out with...sorry, Patrick...didn't have anything to do with the
fire?" This was the same conclusion Eden's investigation had reached, but I
found it hard to believe.

"Not at all," Patrick says. "I think they had everything to do with it,
there's just no proof. But what Reid just told you is very, very important,
Devon. There was absolutely nothing to connect them to the fires. There
were more than eleven names on my list. Not one of them went anywhere near
that floor for an entire week before the fires, and three had to call in
sick to avoid doing so.  They all had solid alibis, and in every
case...just like Steven...they were all in public areas for at least two
hours before the fire started, well in view of video surveillance."

"That sounds a little too convenient," I whisper, getting what he's saying.

"Yeah, it really is," Reid agrees.

I think back to a conversation I'd had earlier. "Does all of this have
anything with that whole Workers United crap? I met a guy passing out
brochures the other day."

Patrick fills me in on what he knows about Steven's new, friendlier
political movement. From what Patrick can tell, he wants to form a
legitimate political party, one that will adhere to Steven's ideology in a
peaceful manner.

"But that doesn't make sense," I say. "If Steven wants to get into
government and make a bunch of changes, why would he risk starting the
fire?"

Patrick admits that these two things seem contrary. "We've talked about
this," Reid says, "and we're really not sure what he's thinking. On the one
hand, you're right. If he's caught setting fire to a farm, he'll go to
jail...for a long time. On the other, if he gets grunts to do it for
him..."

I see where he's going. "...then he can shove the blame off on them if they
get caught, but if they don't they've stirred up a bunch of discontent and
ideas about Eden being incompetent."

"Exactly what we were thinking," Patrick says.

"But where does that leave things?" I ask.

Reid hunches down and replies in an even lower voice. I strain to hear what
he's saying. "Well, for one thing...we have a problem. Catching the guys in
the act of planning the fire would have either implicated Steven or
implicated a few people in his organization. But somebody knew we'd be
watching the guys on Patrick's list, so clearly it wasn't kept
secret. Somewhere along the line, the information was stolen and leaked
back to Caine.

"Only the three of us know Patrick made the list, and he gave it to you. I
think we can rule out Zane and Sean having anything to do with this,
although it would be wise for all of us to watch them more closely. Still,
even if they were in Steven's camp, how'd they even know the disk existed?
They couldn't, so we can pretty much totally rule them out.

"From there you gave the chip directly to me, and I opened the
investigation with Security Force, telling them the chip had been delivered
anonymously. The reason Patrick and I asked you down here is because we
wanted to verify something we've been suspecting."

"And that is?" I ask apprehensively, wondering if I'm about to be blamed
for accidentally leaking the info.

I'm not. "Someone in Security Force is passing info back to Steven,"
Patrick says. "They were able to keep us from catching anyone involved, and
they helped someone carry out what can only be considered a terrorist act,
one that has clearly made the situation on the ship worse."

I think about what Patrick is saying. He's right, the situation was getting
worse and worse. The fire had led to several new restrictions - a curfew,
more frequent lockdowns, patrols. Conner had been forced to move yoga back
up to the dorms.

The result of this had been more general unrest. Steven's group was furious
about the restrictions, and furious they'd been accused of the fire. He'd
spent a sum total of forty-eight hours under arrest and interrogation, but
the way he talked you'd think Steven Caine was the next Nelson Mandela.

The guys and I discuss things in a little more detail. The notion that
someone in Security Force is helping Steven stir things up is
disquieting. A couple of weeks ago it might have been less so, but the
transition of Steven's efforts from protest to militant activism changes
things.

"So what are you going to do?" I ask.

Patrick thinks about this for a moment. "That's a good question. Now that
we're pretty sure that we have a mole in Security Force, we need to figure
out a way to bypass them, getting the info where it needs to go so that we
can nail these guys next time they try something."

"How are you going to do that?" I ask.

Reid answers, "I don't know, but if we can connect them with the attacks,
we can put them in jail. We may even be able to get Steven transferred to
another ship...he's causing a lot of trouble here, they might be willing to
force him to move."

I thought about EV1985, the Orange County ship, which was inching closer to
us as we spoke.  The idea of sending Steven and his guys there to live was
fine by me.

Reid and Patrick don't want to stay in the library too long, even though
Patrick works here.  Patrick was pretty sure Steven's guys accepted him
into the group, but that could change if he were seen hanging out with a
member of Security Force. Before they leave, I ask how I can help.

Reid looks thoughtful. "To be honest, I don't really want you mixed up in
this, Devon. I mean, if we need you to courier intel, that's one thing, but
for the most part I'd really prefer that you stay as far away from anything
to do with Steven Caine as possible."

His comment annoys me, but his concern is touching. Patrick agrees with
Reid. "It's great that you have a new boyfriend," he says. "Enjoy that. It
kills me that we don't get to hang out together, or with you and Conner. If
we can catch the people responsible for the fire, or catch them planning a
new attack, maybe we can link them to Steven, and put everyone in
jail. Then I'm hoping things will return to normal. I miss you guys."
There's a sad glint to Patrick's eyes that tells me he really means it.

When I go back upstairs, resolving to immediately shower the sweat and
stink off of me, I find myself wondering if I shouldn't have been the first
in line to demand Steven's ass after the fire.  Then I try and put the
whole horrible situation out of mind.

I accomplish this by getting drunk on red wine, which is all fun and games
until I start drunk messaging Conner at work. He's not angry, but I'm later
really embarrassed that I asked him to "whip out his giant cosh and garb
his abs down here." Yeah...I don't spell so great when typing drunk.

Devon, you're such a plonker sometimes.


* * * * *


On Thursday I fall in love with Conner a little further.

I'm just cleaning up my station from prepping dinner when I get a text
message from him. He asks if I will meet him in the main lobby after work.

At first I decline, telling him that I'm beat. In truth, I'm both beat and
a little cranky. My meeting with Reid and Patrick is still weighing on me,
and then earlier Zane had left work the moment his shift ended. He'd left
me with about ten million onions to peel, and I now reeked, my eyes burning
from the stupid vegetables and their awful odor.

Conner replies to my message, pleading with me a little. He suggests that
maybe a quick shower will refresh me, and then says he really hopes I'll
meet him. I think back to all the times I've tried to pull him away from
work. We've only been dating a few weeks, but I think these already number
in the millions. I sigh, feeling moved that he likes me enough to beg for
my company.

"Awesome!" he writes back. "Main lobby at eight?" I reply, promising to be
there.

I finish my shift, and discover that a shower, along with curiosity about
what Conner wants, does make me feel more social. I throw on a blue hoodie
and jeans and go to meet my boyfriend - I love being able to call him that!

I find Conner where he said he'd be, although I have to look for him. He's
not wearing his usual raglan t-shirt and cargo shorts, nor is he dressed in
his work scrubs. Rather, I find him standing off to the side of the main
elevators, clad in jeans, a checkered button-down shirt and a sleek leather
bomber jacket. They must all be new - I've never seen any of them on him
before, or off of him, for that matter.

"Wow, you look nice," I greet him.

And he does. His hair is combed neatly, his sandy brown bangs hanging
seductively over his eyes. He rarely brushes it, always thinking about his
studies or where he put his socks more than he contemplates his appearance,
so that on some days his hair sits on his head straight and orderly, and on
others it would be left disheveled and slightly wild. For ship events,
however, he combs it neatly, and it was then that he starts to look like
the doctor he will someday become. I'm learning a lot about Conner's hair,
what it says about his mood, and how very sexy it feels slipping between my
fingers no matter the style of the day. Today's style is a new one, and I
find myself staring at it curiously.

"Thanks," he says. "New clothes. I had Charlie make them."

"Wow, he's getting so good!" I marvel. His jacket hangs off his lean frame
seductively. "I mean, you were cute before, but...fuck."

Conner smiles at me shyly; I get a boner. "Thanks," he says.

"So what's the occasion?" I ask. I feel underdressed.

His eyes seem to sparkle. "I have a surprise for you. Here, follow me." I
do, and he leads me toward the tunnel to the rear observation deck. But
then he bypasses this, and takes me to the entrance to the unused
restaurant space.

"Do you need a key?" I ask. The space wasn't currently in use, and so it
was kept locked. But I had access, being a senior member of the kitchen
staff.

"Nah, I'm covered," he says. When he tugs on the door, it opens
effortlessly. I follow him into the restaurant, curious. The dining room is
empty, as expected. "Wait here," he says, "I'm just going to check
something." He leaves me standing in the entryway and walks back to the
kitchen. He reappears moments later, and I'm surprised to see that he has
Zane in tow.

"What are you guys up to?" I ask, my tone somewhere between curious, giddy
and wary.

"Nuttin'," Zane says playfully, looking like a guilty little kid. He turns
to Conner. "It all looks good to me. Got any questions?"

"Nope, I think we're set," Conner answers. "Thanks, Zane. I appreciate it."

"No probs," he says, tousling my hair before he walks out the front door,
leaving Conner and me alone in the restaurant space. "You guys have fun
tonight."

When the door closes behind him, Conner turns to me and says, "He let me
in. Okay, so, I'm getting a little nervous now. Here, follow me."

I cock my head curiously. Why would Conner ever be nervous around me? His
shyness is endearing, but it can catch me off-guard. He makes his way
across the dining room floor and I follow. And then he heads up the
stairs. I follow; a spiral staircase leads us to the second floor of the
restaurant space, which features a second, smaller dining room and outdoor
eating space overlooking the main lobby. The last time I was up here, it
was a mess, tables and chairs strewn carelessly everywhere.

It isn't like that anymore.

When we arrive at the top of the stairs, I find that the smaller dining
room has been transformed.  Everything has been cleaned, and the extra
tables and chairs have been stacked neatly against the far wall. Long red
velvet drapes are drawn, obscuring the sliding glass doors that lead onto
the balcony. Candlelight dances seductively against the warm fabric; the
product of light cast from dozens of candles, which have been placed all
over the room.

In the center of the space, a single table has been set up, adorned with a
white tablecloth and several more candles, along with place settings for
two.

"You did this?" I ask, turning to face Conner. He's followed me up the
stairs, and I'm surprised to see that he seems to have produced a bouquet
of roses from nowhere.

He nods. "Yeah. These are for you." He hands me the roses, which are a
deep, dark purple.  They're...they're incredible. I tell him so and he
smiles.

"This all looks amazing," I say, walking through the room as though I'm
walking through a dream. "What is it for?"

Conner tilts his head, looking at me curiously. He replies, "Well...it's
for you, silly. The past couple of weeks have been frantic, but I didn't
want you to feel neglected. I love you, Devy."

I'm touched, truly, but I find myself blushing at the attention. "Aww,
Conner, I know that," I reply.

He steps closer to me and looks me right in the eye, a scorching, searing
gaze. "No, Devon. Not like that. What I'm saying right now is that I love
you." He takes me into his arms, his eyes burning with passion, and I
consider the very big difference that a very small change in emphasis on
that one word makes.

"Oh," I whisper, my mouth suddenly dry.

Conner leans into me, and then kisses my lips, a slow, melting embrace that
makes me feel like I'm about to topple over. His bangs brush against my
face, tickling my closed eyelids. He lets our lips slowly part, and then
takes a step back. "I'll...uh...let's put that on pause for a minute,
because I don't want to ruin dinner. Here, have a seat."

Conner pulls back one of the two chairs at the table and I sit. He pushes
me into place and unfolds a napkin, placing it in my lap as he explains how
all this came to be. "I wanted to do something really special for you. I
didn't know what, and when I thought about it all I could think of was how
awesome our first date was...that meal you made me. I know it wasn't a date
back then, but then it kind of was, right?"

I laugh. "Yeah, I guess it kind of was." He's referring to the non-date
dinner I'd cooked him, which in the end was sort of responsible for us
getting together.

He continues, "So I wanted to make you dinner. I'm sorry, it's not going to
be anything like what you cooked for me. But I got Zane to help. Keep in
mind, I cooked everything, he just helped me plan, and came down here this
afternoon to instruct me. So I'm afraid to say you're going to have to deal
with my cooking."

Conner looks a little nervous, so I reassure him. "Whatever you made, I'm
sure I'll love it," I say.

He laughs. "Don't be so sure about that, you didn't see the experimental
dinner I made before I resigned myself to asking Zane for help. And you
never will." He says that his test dinner had threatened to eat through the
hull before being destroyed. He's joking...I think.

He runs off to the kitchen, and returns with two plates. "You helped when I
made dinner," I point out. "I can help carry stuff or whatever." He sets
the plates down, revealing a first course of spinach salad with tomato,
goat cheese and pecans.

"No, no," he says. "This is a simpler dinner, and I can handle it. Oh! I
almost forgot." He fetches a square vase from the corner of the room. It's
already been filled with water. Taking my bouquet, he places the purple
roses in the vase and sets it on our table. The deep, luscious violet
contrasts beautifully with the white of the tablecloth.

The salad is great, and I tell him so. He smiles appreciatively. We eat,
our conversation light, although I feel something tingly in my chest. I
think I'm falling in love with this guy all over again.  When we finish, he
again refuses my offer of assistance, taking the empty salad plates with
him when he goes. He returns shortly with more food.

The second course is presented on a large white plate, in the center of
which he's placed a small copper pot. I assume it's right out of the oven;
I can feel a faint wafting heat hit my face when he puts the food in front
of me. Something smells delicious. "What is it?" I ask, a little giddy.

"I hope it's okay," he says. "This is a truffled white cheddar and gruyere
macaroni and cheese. I have a really crisp white wine to go with it, which
I think will pair really well."

"What?" I exclaim. "That sounds incredible!" And it is, I soon discover,
foolishly sticking a forkful of molten mac and cheese between my lips
before it's even remotely close to an edible temperature. I regret nothing!
Besides, the cold wine is more than capable of soothing my burned tongue; I
gulp down the entire glass and Conner pours another.

Conner blushes at my complete and utter admiration of his food. If he
thinks I'm being at all smarmy, I prove this is not the case by eating the
entire serving, scraping out bits of leftover cheesy roux with a piece of
sourdough bread he's served with the pasta.

"I'm glad you liked it," he says, smiling.

"I really did," I say. "What's for dessert?" I'm sort of joking, but sort
of not.

"Um," Conner says, picking up my plate. "Are you already full? Because I
did another course before dessert."

Wow, four courses. "I'm never full," I assure him. "Bring it on!"

He returns with two dinner plates, both heaped with pasta. "I hope I don't
get negative points for this," he says. "For the entree, I've done a penne
pasta with onions, poblanos and serrano chilies, and then it has a feta and
crŠme fraŒche sauce."

The pasta smells delicious, and I stare at it longingly. The alluring smell
of the peppers hits my nose and my mouth waters. Still, something about the
dish....

"Hey, isn't this kind of macaroni and cheese?" I ask.

Conner looks pensive. "I know," he says apologetically. "I thought it might
be funny...too much?"

I shake my head. "No way! Oh my god, I totally love you. I mean it, too - I
am so in love with you right now." He smiles, and we dig in. "Wow, it's got
a kick!" I exclaim about the food. The chilies are spicy and bold against
my tongue. It's a beautiful dish, the salty feta and smooth crŠme
fraŒche contrasting the heat with creamy deliciousness.

When we finish, Conner eating about half of his pasta and me stuffing my
face until it's all gone, he asks me if he did okay. "Are you kidding?" I
reply. "It was totally awesome. Conner...wow, thanks. I had a long day, and
this was really special."

We chat for a bit, and then he smiles at me. "Ready for dessert?"

"Do you even have to ask?" I laugh. Conner looks flushed. I wonder whether
the heat from the dinner is still burning his tongue, as it is mine.

"Um, I'm a little shy about dessert," he says. "It's kind of your thing,
you know? I guess I'm just saying...it's okay if I got creative? You won't
laugh?"

I try to put as much sincerity in my big brown eyes as I can. "I totally
won't," I promise. He apparently believes me, padding back down to the
kitchen. I take the opportunity to think about Conner, and about how I'm
still discovering new things about him. At first our relationship had been
about searing hot boy sex...and it still was, but I was also learning how
great the little things were. At the end of a really hard day, here he was,
making me feel special and being such a great boyfriend. For about the
bazillionth time I kick myself for not noticing his affections earlier.

I jump when he reaches around from behind, placing dessert in front of
me. I hadn't heard him sneak up behind me. Dessert has been baked in a
large white ramekin, which he's placed on top a matching white plate. The
contents are still snapping and sizzling, apparently fresh out of the
oven. A layer of perfectly browned cake covers what I take to be a fruit
filling, the smell of cooked berries filling my nostrils. On top of the
cake, a scoop of rapidly melting ice cream is sliding around on the surface
of the hot cake. "Blackberry cobbler," Conner says from behind me,
explaining what he's made.

I'm instantly as excited as a little kid. "Oh wow Conner! That's
awesome. How did you know that I love...black...berry...cobbler?" My words
slow to a crawl and then I gulp.

I've turned to ask Conner about the dessert, and immediately notice that
he's changed his clothes. Gone are the button down shirt and blue jeans and
black leather coat. Instead, he's now wearing a chef's apron.

And that's all he's wearing.

"I hope you like it," he says, not clarifying whether he means the dessert
or the new outfit, He walks past me to stand next to his seat; I'm treated
to a view of his lovely Conner backside, covered only by a single string
that ties the apron behind his back. He's not wearing underwear.

"I'm...uh...sure I will," I reply. "Where's yours?" He's only brought one
dessert.

"I'm a little full," he says. "This one is all for you. Dig in."

"Um, okay." I'm a little distracted by my nearly naked boyfriend. But I
don't want to be rude, so I break the crusty surface of the cake with my
spoon, scooping up a big bite that includes nearly equal parts blackberry
filling, cake and vanilla ice cream. This time I employ some common sense
and blow on the food before I stick it into my mouth. But then, when I
do...man. Wow, it's great.

"It's awesome!" I gush, lauding the dish in complete honesty. It's both
sweet and salty, hot and cold, crusty and smooth. The fruit filling just
almost scalds my mouth, but is cooled rapidly as the vanilla ice cream
melts.

"I'm glad you like it," Conner says, shaking his bangs out of his eyes in a
gesture that I'm finding increasingly erotic.

I'm stuffed from dinner, but that doesn't stop me from laying into the
cobbler. Conner watches me eat for a moment, and then bends down to dip
under the table, claiming he's dropped something. I don't buy
it. "Uh...what are you doing?" I ask as he crawls up between my legs.

"Fulfilling a little fantasy I've been developing," he replies. "One that
entails feeding my boy dinner...then giving him two desserts at once."

"Ha ha, very funny," I say. "I know the whole desk thing in the hospital
annoyed you. I promise not to do that again."

He's staring up from under the table, his green eyes looking large and kind
and sexy. I hadn't really noticed before, but his pupils are huge in this
light, and it's really sexy. "This doesn't have anything to do with that,"
he says, reaching up to unfasten the button on my jeans. Then he pulls down
the zipper slowly; we look each other in the eyes as he does so.

"Gulp," I say.

He smiles. "Gulp is right. Eat your dessert, I have some work to do."

What do you say to that?

I opt to say nothing, letting Conner plunge his head deep into my
crotch. He pulls my chair toward him so that the edge of the table presses
into my body just under my ribs. Now I can't see what he's doing, but I can
feel him nuzzling my body with his face. He places his mouth on my jeans
just below where my balls sit. With a forceful breath, he pushes hot, humid
air into the fabric of my pants; I feel a sensation of warmth spread across
my body there.

And then he pulls my cock out of my underwear, taking it immediately into
his mouth. A surge of erotic, wet, pulsing pleasure shoots through my body.

"Aah!" I gasp, making sure it's loud enough that he hears me enjoying his
efforts.

I hadn't been hard, but that changes very, very quickly. Conner sucks on
me, and then licks me, and then reaches up to give my balls a squeeze. I
writhe, and when he tugs on my pants I lift my ass off the seat a couple of
centimeters so that he can pull them down to my thighs, exposing my naked
crotch to the cool air. And then he dives back in, offering me the best
blowjob he can give.

"I...uh...that's really nice," I moan, my eyes glazing over.

He pulls off me for a moment. "Eat your dessert while I do this." His voice
is husky, and I imagine dripping with my taste.

"I...don't know if I can eat and...uh!...have you doing that at the same
time."

"Then try," he requests. "I want it."

He goes back to work on my cock, and I do as he says. I take a small bite
of cobbler, and my senses explode. I feel pleasure from where Conner is
licking and sucking me, and pleasure from where the sweet, gooey dessert
slides across my tongue.

"Oh...Conner...this is so good. I don't know if I can stand it."

"Keep eating," he says.

And I do. I spoon bite after bite of the delicious dessert into my mouth
while my boyfriend works away under the table. He's getting pretty good at
oral pleasure.

My body goes into sexual overdrive, and I can't take it anymore. I pull my
shirt off over my head and toss it aside. Conner gets the message and helps
me take my shoes and socks off, and then my pants, although he shows adept
boy skills by doing this while remaining attached to me at the mouth.

When I'm fully naked, I feel a lot more excited. He slides me back into
position and takes me into his mouth anew. I encourage him on. "Ah...you do
that so good...yeah...I'm freaking loving that...yeah...yeah..." Sex talk
always makes me feel a little lame, but it excites Conner a lot.

"Ow!" He gets so into it that he bumps his head on the underside of the
table. I ask if he's okay and he says he is. We laugh, and then he goes
back to sucking me.

I'm stuffed, and I don't think I can hold much more food. But I don't want
to disappoint Conner, so I stick my thumb into the remaining filling and
suck on that. It's like...It's like a totally new sensation, sucking my own
thumb, imagining that the pleasure I'm receiving from Conner swirling his
tongue over my helmet is actually coming from eating the dessert. Or maybe
the sweetness I'm tasting is coming from his ministrations. Pleasures and
sensations combine and dance around in my head in confusing, lusty circles.

I stick two fingers into the jammy filling and lick them off. Conner takes
me fully into his mouth, and I feel his wetness all along the length of my
shaft. My tip finds its way into the very back of his throat; he's been
practicing this a lot lately.

I go to dip my fingers into the dessert again, but right as I do Conner
grabs a hold of my shaft with his fist and starts thrusting his mouth up
and down the top half of my dick. My body shudders, and I knock the ramekin
on its side. Gooey blackberry filling, still warm from the oven, spills out
onto the plate, running over the white porcelain in dark violet streaks.

"Oh...oh...I'm getting close, Conner...wow," I moan.

He doubles his efforts, and I increase my moaning. Suddenly I'm incapable
of controlling myself.  I place my palm directly in the blackberry goo
that's spilled, feeling it squish between my fingers.  Conner has
purposefully made this meal sensual, and my body is drunk on lust,
confusing sensations and screaming for more pleasure.

"Go ahead, Devy," he says. "Whenever you're ready, go ahead and cum. Give
it to me."

This doesn't take long. He works my shaft with both his hand and his mouth,
tonguing me and letting me fuck his face. I thrash in my seat, and then
grab my chest with my dessert-covered hand, somewhat unconsciously. Warm,
slick blackberry smears across my skin, leaving a purple handprint on my
chest. And it feels...it feels so good.

I can't help myself. I feel the approaching tide. I reach into the dessert
dish and scoop a giant glob of the remaining treat out with my bare
hand. And then I use both hands to rub it into my chest, and over my
tummy. Conner doesn't notice that I've done this, he's concentrating fully
on giving me the best blowjob possible.

I feel a tingling in my balls, and then across my
abs. "Ohhhhhh...ohhhhhhh...ohhhhhhhh," I begin moaning.

"Mmm...mmmm....mmmm," Conner grunts, acknowledging what is about to happen.

"Ohhhhhhhh..."

"Mmmmm...mmmmm."

My body flexes and every muscle contracts. "UGH! Conner! Conner! Ugh!" I
yell, my voice feeling immediately hoarse from panting and moaning.

My semen surges up and out of my cock with such force that it feels both
tremendously wonderful and slightly painful. Conner slides my dick deep
into his mouth, drinking my load. I feel his fingertips against my ass on
either side of my body, and then all of a sudden he's pressing his nails
into my flesh with all the force he can muster.

"AH! AH! Oh...fuck! Jeez!" I yell. It isn't a scream of pain. Recently
Conner has been experimenting with things to do to me mid-orgasm to prolong
the pleasure. This was apparently his newest idea, and it was a good one.

When I come down, I collapse back into my seat, completely sated. My belly
is full, and my balls drained. I feel ecstatic, and happy, a tingling
warmth flushing through my body.

"And that's what I wanted for dessert," Conner says, swallowing the last of
my semen, which he's licked off my now-deflating dick. It makes me squirm
and giggle, the sensation too much to handle.

He climbs out from under the table. "I'm glad you liked...holy fuck, you
made a mess!"

I blush and offer a playful shrug. My entire torso is coated with sticky
blackberry goo, melted ice cream, and bits of cake. I feel a glob roll down
my abdomen and come to rest in my pubes. "I think I got a little carried
away," I say, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"That's okay," he laughs. "We'll get you cleaned up."

Conner locates a dish towel and then dips it into his half-filled glass of
ice water. I squeal when the cold, wet towel touches my chest, but I let
him wipe the sticky mess off. He gets most of it, finishing by reaching
down to feel my dick and balls. I start to go hard again.

"I don't think I got any down there," I say slyly.

"Just checking," he grins.

Being naked in the dining room is odd, and exciting. My body feels somehow
younger, sexier, firmer and sleeker standing exposed in the center of the
empty space. And Conner, still wearing his apron, looks hotter than should
be lawful. He's aroused, his long cock pressing the short apron into enough
of a tent that I can see his balls peeking out underneath.

"Thanks for dinner," I say, embracing him and taking his lips into mine for
a long, sensual kiss. I can taste my flavor on his lips, and I'm sure he
can taste the dessert he'd made on mine.

I glance over to the far wall, where all of the furniture for the upstairs
dining room has been stacked. In addition to the tables and chairs, there
are several leather sofas - long, comfy looking couches the deep, rich
color of tobacco. I can almost imagine that they smell faintly of it, or of
cloves, or coffee. But right now, how they smell isn't forefront on my
mind.

"I want you to fuck me," I whisper, looking longingly into Conner's green
eyes. He registers slight surprise, and then lust, before they go back to
displaying his regular keen intellect and charm.

"Tonight is all about you," he says. "Not about me. I just wanted you to
have a special night."

I place a hand on his cheek. He's so sweet. "I will, and part of that will
be you fucking me."

He sighs. "Devon...don't get me wrong, it's a sexy idea. But I wanted
tonight to really, really be all about you, and nothing you say is going to
change that."

I step within inches of my boyfriend, feeling the heat of our bodies
meeting in the middle.  Reaching around his neck, I untie the string
holding up the top half of his apron. It falls down around his waist,
exposing his muscular chest, which I place a palm against.

Looking him right in the eye, I put on my best gaze of sultry seduction and
speak in a firm, husky voice. "Conner, boy that I love, there is only one
thing I want right now, and that is for you to pick me up and take me over
to that sofa...see, that one right over there. Then you're going to get
hard, and you're going to slide it into me. I want you inside me, and I
want to feel you thrusting in and out of me, and then I'm going to be
moaning and gasping because it feels so good. And then I want you to cum so
hard that I taste it in my mouth. Do you think we can manage that?"

Conner's eyes glaze over a bit. "I...uh...um," he mutters. And then a wide
grin spreads over his lips. "Fucking hell I love you," he says before
wrapping his arm around my waist. He scoops his other arm under my legs and
picks me up, albeit clumsily and with some effort. He manages the short
walk to the couch, where he drops me.

"Oof!" I exclaim, laughing, when I land right in the middle of the
sofa. Conner smiles at me lustfully. I'm pretty sure he's going to comply
with my request. "Do we have any lube?" I ask.

He looks over to a table in the corner, where he's set some of his things,
including a grey messenger bag. He fetches it, then sits down next to me on
the couch. "I brought some," he says, opening the bag and then handing it
to me. "Will any of these work?"

I laugh when I see that he's brought eight or nine different kinds, as well
as several lotions.  "Wow, somebody was looking to get lucky tonight!" I
joke.

Conner's cheeks flush. "Around you...I always need to be prepared. I was
planning to ask you to use these fucking me, but it sounds like you have
your mind set on the other way around. Why don't you pick one while I get
in the mood?"

It doesn't take me long to select, and it doesn't take him long to get in
the mood. I choose a small vial of clear lube, a personal favorite that is
ultra-concentrated, silky smooth and extremely long lasting.

In all honesty, I truly do want Conner to fuck me, but we haven't tried
this since our first time, and I'm a little nervous. He may sense this. He
gently lowers me onto the couch, kissing my cheeks and chest as he does
so. He removes his apron and slides up next to me naked. He kisses my ear,
and then whispers to me huskily, "Je voudrais te serrer dans mes bras toute
ma vie."

I moan. Conner speaks French, something I'd recently learned about him. He
says learning another language helped him develop his memorization
skills. I think that the fact that he chose French helped him develop his
seduction skills too. "You're sweet," I say, "but I have no idea what that
meant."

He replies, "It means 'I would like to embrace you forever.' And I would,
in French, or any other language."

"Even Manx?" I ask, unable to resist joking with him. I'd been on this kick
about the Isle of Man lately, for no particular reason.

"Dork," he sighs. "Yes, even in Manx. But I only know French. Je voudrais
te manger tout cr–, Devon." The words land against me ears in the
lilting, flowing manner of the language. It makes my toes curl to hear
Conner speaking it to me.

"That's sexy. I hope it doesn't mean 'where's the market?' or something
like that."

Conner nips at my ear and then licks my neck, causing me to sigh. "Mmmmm,"
he moans. "It's hard to translate. Literally it means, 'I want to eat you
raw.' " In French it's a tender statement...it means that I want to consume
you, have you, make you mine. And I do, Devon, I want you here with me,
forever."

He looks me in the eye, lust and love burning hot in his. "I...agree," I
sigh. "And I want you inside me."

Conner had begun slowly humping me, his long cock sliding against my
tummy. He's hard and wet and ready, and when I slather a fair amount of
cool, slick lube on his shaft he moans and becomes even more so.

I'd like for him to fuck me so that we can look into one another's eyes,
but he suggests that we try something easier and simpler for our second
time. I'm agreeable, and at his request I get on all fours. He thinks this
will allow him to go easier on me.

I take a deep breath when Conner pulls my body into his, gently holding my
hips. He guides his erection to the correct spot, and slowly penetrates
me. I expect the sharp, painful sensation I'd experience the first time,
but it doesn't come. "You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah! I really am. That didn't hurt at all."

"Good, tell me if it starts to. You feel a lot more relaxed than last
time."

"I think four glasses of wine and the blowjob helped. Ah!" I gasp sharply
at the end of the sentence. Conner has pushed all the way into me.

"Did that hurt?"

I feel really full, and then something feels really nice, but there's no
pain. "No, not at all. I...yeah, this is new, but I like it."

"Cool," he says lustfully.

He makes a couple more slow thrusts, and when I assure him that all is
well, he goes faster. I arch my back and rest my elbows on the arm of the
couch, and something happens - something great. "Oh! Wow, do that some
more. Something feels...something feels really good!"

Conner moans and complies. I gasp as my breathing increases. I exaggerate
this a little for Conner's benefit, but it's not an act. By relaxing and
just going with it, what he's doing to me feels really nice.

"Uh...uh...Devon...you're so tight. Fuck, it's like my whole body is inside
you...I'm not going to last long...wow...this is so intense!"

I feel my balls slapping around under me, and then I notice something -
I've gone totally hard.  This didn't happen before. "Uh...uh...yeah," I
pant, "This is really turning me on. I'm boned...wow...I didn't think that
would happen."

Conner reaches around me and grabs my cock, continuing his thrusting the
best he can while doing so. I gasp and lift my chest, coming up on my knees
while he's still penetrating me. It takes some effort, but I'm careful.

I use my hands to move Conner's palms into place on my chest and stomach,
which feels like it will help me balance. Then I assist with his thrusting,
sliding my ass up and down his dick. It slides effortlessly in and out,
occasionally pulling too far out so that we have to pause and put it back
into position. I don't care, though...this is about love and lust and him
being inside me, it doesn't have to be perfect.

When my knees get tired I lower myself back into doggy position. Conner
penetrates me and humps my hole as fast as he can. I feel a drop of his
sweat land on my back, and notice that I'm also perspiring.

"Ah...ah...Devon...ah...ah..." he grunts. I smile at his inability to form
a coherent sentence.

I help him out. "That's it, baby. Feels so good...fuck me just like
that. Ah! You're so hard and hot inside me...I'm loving this...really. Are
you about ready?" Our bodies are making a wet slapping sound each time he
rams into me, something I find tremendously erotic.

"Ummmm-hrmmmm," he moans, which I think means "yes," although it escapes
his lips in a goofy little noise.

"Come in me, Conner. I want to feel it. Do it to me...come in me...oh gah,
fuck!...I think I'm going to spray too!"

He's hit something deep inside me, some secret spot that has flipped a
switch in my brain. I feel my balls tingling and pulling up into my
body. I'm really going to do it - Conner fucking me is going to make me
come! I might be able to delay the orgasm, but Conner makes it inevitable
by reaching around to grab me again.

"Oh, Devon, OH, HERE I COME!" he yells loudly, making me wonder if they can
hear him out in the main lobby. He presses as deep into me as possible, and
I feel his body spasm and convulse. He grabs me tight, pulling us together
like two panting, primal animals.

"Oh, Conner, fuck!" I squeal. He's let go of my dick, but that doesn't stop
it from going off.  Semen sprays out of me, flying onto the leather cushion
of the couch. Behind me, Conner is pumping and writhing and gasping, and I
wonder if the spunk in my body is being replenished just as fast as I'm
ejecting it.

I start laughing, almost involuntarily.

"What?" Conner asks, panting uncontrollably. "What's so funny?"

"I don't know," I giggle, trying to catch my breath. "I really don't. I'm
just...I'm just so happy.  Wow, that was amazing! I'm sorry, Conner, I'm
not laughing at you, I promise. I'm just really giggly all of a sudden."

He pulls out of me, wincing at how sensitive his cock is. "I'm glad you're
giggly," he says, helping me flip over onto my back. "I love giggly. I love
you." And then he kisses me, deep and hard and long.

"I love you more," I say when he finishes, and then I start giggling again.

We lie there for a few minutes, and then Conner begins massaging my
body. He rubs my shoulders and chest, moving down to my legs. I accept this
and hand him the lube, which he uses in lieu of massage oil. "You're so
perfect," he sighs.

When he gets to my thighs he pulls my legs apart slightly. He's not the
most covert guy in the world. My eyes are closed, and I say to him, "You
can check there, if you like. I don't think you hurt me this time."

Conner, always the doctor, apologizes, but then completes a short
examination of my...my boy parts. I'm right, this second time has produced
no pain and no blood. He smiles shyly and plays with the hair on the back
of his head cutely when he's done. "Sorry, I had to check. I know that's a
little humiliating."

I shrug. "Not really. We're together now...completely. My body belongs to
you, and it always will."

Whatever else may be happening in my life, Conner and I are falling in love
more every day, a fact testified to by a dining room covered in blackberry
filling and boy spunk, which we clean up thoroughly, laughing at how both
seemed to have gotten everywhere. And then we get dressed and head
home. That night I tell Conner that I love him one more time before falling
asleep in his arms.


* * * * *


Upstairs, in a dimmed back room of the Topside administrative offices,
several figures are sitting around a small table, talking. Twenty empty
soda cans sit piled between them, along with several half-empty food
cartons. The room smells of rice, and asian spices, and men who haven't
showered recently.

A haggard Eden Stranton discusses his next move with some of his closest
friends, knowing there's a growing sentiment that he hadn't handled the
fire situation well, and that things on the ship were getting
worse. Workers United was passing around a petition - one that could, with
enough signatures, trigger a recall election for the mayor and his staff.

Downstairs, a similar scene is taking place in one of the Bottomside
flats. Steven Caine looks over some recent polling data, and sees that for
the first time Eden Stranton's numbers have fallen below a fifty percent
approval rating. Several of the chairs in the room are empty. Steven knows
that Security Force was watching some of his most trusted lieutenants, and
this annoys him. This wasn't part of the plan, not at all. Someone in his
group had implicated several of his friends in the attack, something he had
little to do with.

But that didn't mean things weren't on track. Steven flips through some
data on his tablet. He locates what he's looking for - the current position
of EV1985, the Orange County ship. A countdown reflects an estimate of
remaining time until it docks with EV5997. An uneasy feeling settles in the
guy's stomach - it feels too soon.

Across the ship, more people than ever are finding peaceful sleep hard to
come by.


To be continued.


Author's End Notes:

Soundtrack: If you check on the group site, I've associated a song with
each chapter. Putting them together forms a soundtrack to the story. In
fact, I format the files on the group site so that you can play them on an
iPod (or whatever) as a playlist, complete with sexy album art and
everything. Check it out.

The song for 17 is Love, etc. by Pet Shop Boys. Devon and Conner's
experiences are endearing in this chapter, but also a little slinky
sexy. This, and the evolving mystery about the fire made me choose this
song, which is really sexy but also a little dark.

The name of the chapter is a silly reference to the song Laid by James.

Keef is named after a character in Invader Zim.

Several pairs of underwear make an appearance, pictures are on the group
site.

Some of the recipes for food featured in this chapter are posted on the
group site.