This work of fiction is owned by the author, and may not be reprinted in any fashion without the author’s express written permission. SeaQuest DSV and its characters are owned by MCA/Universal Studios, Amblin Entertainment, and the Sci-Fi Channel. "Close to You" is owned by The Carpenters, and some of its lyrics are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

The events herein take place after "Siamese Dream" and "Dagger Redux". Many thanks to Sockii and Ellie Deyneka for beta-reading.

This work was printed in Whatever Gets You Through The Night #3 in March 2000 by Sockii Press. This is the second in a trilogy and should be treated as such.

Angel's Lullaby
Part One: "Before the Dawn"

Fifteen minutes before my shift is over, thought Tim O'Neill, glancing at the chronometer for the umpteenth time that hour. It meant, also, that there were fifteen minutes before he could go in search of a certain someone whom he couldn't wait to run his fingers down --

Suddenly reminded of where he was, the dark-haired lieutenant gripped the underside edge of his com board much tighter than he really needed to and hoped no one noticed. He also hoped that no one wondered why he was blushing and that the budding erection he knew he had wasn't noticeable. It also would be nice if Piccolo hadn't chosen that moment to practice listening in on the thoughts of the Bridge crew. After all, Tim knew, it was bad enough their relationship was risky enough with only Wendy Smith to worry about. Now they had to worry about both her and an untrained psychic who also happened to be the boat's biggest gossip. It was almost enough to make you want to cry.

Sometimes he did.

There was nothing fair here. They had to keep their connection a secret from everybody -- their friends, their family, and certainly everyone on the boat -- and Tim knew the strain stretched even the limits of Lucas' credibility. Technically, their relationship wasn't strictly forbidden; Lucas was a civilian scientific consultant rather than a member of the military who happened to be stationed aboard a mostly military vessel. Neither did he have any position whatsoever in the chain of the command. Of course, on the other hand, Captain Bridger -- his commanding officer -- looked on Lucas as his own son, and Tim was fairly certain the captain would look askance at their love affair.

Tim hated to think of it as an affair, since he hoped -- he knew with every fiber of his heart -- that he and Lucas were meant to be together. Never had he ever felt so completely happy, so delighted with life itself. The only down side seemed to be the secrecy issue, which was unfortunately necessary to both their lives. The com tech merely thanked God that his younger lover was now a necessary part of his life. He also thanked God for not taking Lucas away when that addicted psychic had abused him, all for a computer code and the sheer joy the torture brought.

"-- Tim, Earth to Tim."

Startled, the lieutenant nearly fell out of his seat at the sound of his best friend's voice whispering in his ear. Pulling the microphone at his chin closer, so as not to transmit to those around him, Tim managed to form words while again peering surreptitiously at the chronometer. Strange how he'd become prone to odd moments of introspection since that life-changing shore leave. "Miguel? What?"

"Shift's over, Tim."

It can't be. The brunet spun his chair around to see the sensor chief packing up his system for preparation to turning it over to his relief. Tim glanced to his other side, and, sure enough, Ensign Dobbs was standing there patiently with a tolerant and faintly amused look on her face.

Dammit, he thought, she's probably wondering how much longer it'll be before I retire for early senility. Hurriedly turning his board over to the ensign, Tim rushed to meet Miguel, who was busily snickering at his friend's open-mouthed expression of a few moments ago. Indeed, all of the A-shift personnel, including the captain and Commander Ford had already left -- gone to dinner, no doubt.

"Look at it this way," Miguel Ortiz commented, an impish smile tweaking the corners of his lips, as they walked out the clamshell doors toward the MAG-LEV. "Now you can go back to daydreaming in the privacy of your own room."

"Ha-ha," the object of his laughter commented. "I'm glad I could provide you with some free entertainment."

Ortiz snatched at his friend's sleeve, and Tim was able to see the concern on the other's face. "That's not it at all, Tim, I just wanted to make sure everything is okay, that's all." He paused for a moment, clearly trying to figure out how to continue. "You've been so . . . preoccupied for the last month and I know it's been pretty bad recently --"

You can say that again but parts of it were excellent, thought the lieutenant irreverently before his mouth opened up and sounds came out. Fortunately, the words exiting his renegade mouth were neither those he feared ever saying in public nor those that had just crossed the surface of his brain. "Everything's great, Mig, really."

Serious, the curly-haired chief looked him over, judging the veracity of his words, his expressive features set with concern. "You're sure?"

Tim nodded firmly. He'd never been more sure of everything in his life . . . he just wished he could shake the feeling there was something really nasty heading toward them. Maybe the light at the end of the tunnel was actually a train, as Lucas was so fond of saying.

Ortiz nodded in relief, noting the happiness in his companion's eyes. "So," he began, as they settled into the MAG-LEV for the short trip to the mess hall. "Who is she?"

"Who's who?"

"The girl who's got you so worked up you're drifting off into la-la land during your shift." Miguel shot him a questioning look inlaid with considerable amounts of curiosity and mischief. "That's something I've never seen you -- you, otherwise known as Mister Responsibility -- do in all the time we've known each other."

Panicked, the lieutenant hoped something would happen that would prevent him from having to answer the question. If only there was a button he could push that would shift the special elevator's speed into the extreme levels . . . .

Miguel had apparently noted Tim’s fleeting change in expression and recognized it as panic mixed with an intense need for secrecy. Tim knew the expression well from their Academy days - it was the look a fox gives a hen as it crawls into the chicken coop - and knew he was wearing the hen’s expression right now. "Not that you need to tell me, even though it'd be nice," Miguel continued speaking, with hardly a break in his speech. Aware of the wistful look on his friend’s face, Tim briefly wondered how his oldest friend would take the news, knowing in his heart that he daren’t tell anyone. "Is she cute?"

Realizing he was rapidly turning the color of an April tide, Tim thought of his golden lover with the bright blue eyes who set his soul afire with a mere look in his direction. "Gorgeous."

"Is she someone you met on leave?"

Smiling faintly, Tim realized the question was truer than it appeared. "You might say that." Indeed, he'd seen a new side of the computer wizard during those first few shaky days. Several new sides, in fact. The mental image that train of thought led to reminded him that it might be a good idea to change the subject . . . quickly . . . away from his lover to something else.

Anything else.

"So what did you do on leave?"

His dark eyes flashing from under the heavy fringe of curls at his brow, the Cuban gave his friend a you-know-me-better-than-that look, shaking his head in disappointment. "Ah, Timmy, you are such an innocent." Ignoring the disgusted snort from his left, Miguel proceeded to weave an elaborate tale of wine, women, song, and theatre tickets as the pair left the MAG-LEV. His expansive gestures nearly smacked a couple of crew members exiting the mess hall, but Miguel merely smiled sweetly at them for a few moments before continuing, missing not a single beat in either his story or his motion.

Some minutes later in line, Tim managed to get in a question through the frenzy of description and exaggeration. "How could you possibly manage to get in all that in a single weekend?" Although, Tim mused, I shouldn't talk, having begun a new relationship and, oh by the way, a whole new phase of my life during the exact same timeframe.

Miguel winked, a lecherous glint showing in his expressive dark eyes. "It just so happened that the old friends and the nightlife went hand in hand. You know how that goes." Nudging his slender friend in the ribs, the brunet couldn't stand it any longer. "And I know you know how that goes, Tim." A knowing grin spread over the sensor chief’s face.

Panicked, Tim wasn't sure what to do; it was bad enough that his shock showed clearly on his face. There was no way in any universe he was going to tell anyone about his weekend, and especially not to a member of the bridge crew. The ramifications of their exposure were too awful to bear thinking about, and there was no way to predict how any one person -- no matter how much or how long a friend -- would react. Still, a better answer existed. "A gentleman doesn't answer such questions," Tim replied with just the right note of offended dignity. Miguel was still laughing when the pair reached their table with their dinners.

"Why can't this ever be simple," Lucas muttered complainingly at the computer screen. Of course, it wasn't supposed to be simple, he amended. If it was simple, someone else would have figured it out already. Besides, it was part of his reason for staying sane lately. God knew there were precious few ties to reality left on this boat.

Who knew that you could have a long-distance relationship when you saw your significant other every day? Worse, it was a long-distance relationship they had to keep secret. Granted, he'd expected that -- the UEO military could call on the old rule of 'don't ask, don't tell' all they damn well wanted, but it didn't change the way things were. And it sure as hell didn't make trying to mark time any easier.

Honestly, it seemed the whole wretched pantheon of gods -- Greek, Roman, and otherwise -- were determined to separate them. Almost as soon as they'd walked down the sloping ramp toward the boat, the little ropes tugging them apart began in earnest. Forcing themselves the requisite eight inches apart, the pair had unconsciously kept their strides in sync, signaling private messages of love with each shared glance, holding onto the sweet memory of their last lung-destroying kiss in the small elevator at his apartment building. Crammed into the MAG-LEV with several others, Lucas could only watch Tim exit at his floor, daring not a look or a call or a tiny kiss blown in the wind.

From the moment Lucas pushed open the door to their quarters, Piccolo hadn't wasted any time, demanding answers in a very loud voice with a wheedling tone the blond had previously only associated with Ben Krieg. Apparently, he had some blinking neon sign screaming 'I had sex' that was invisible to everyone except Tony Piccolo. He'd avoided giving away any details by insisting that his date's name as well as all other details weren’t any of Tony's business. Besides, Lucas had added under his breath, knowing full well that he could be heard, the only reason Tony was asking was because the older man wanted to steal his girl and that opportunity wasn't going to happen. Nuh-uh, no way. Tony had just grinned in that rakish way he had, but he hadn't denied it.

Alerts of every color of the rainbow, double and triple shifts, years worth of seemingly endless meetings -- the couple couldn't get even a spare minute together. That was the only problem with Bridger's brilliant design of this boat . . . there was no privacy whatsoever! Even in your own quarters, even when you had your own personal quarters, you still had no privacy because of the swim tube that ran the length of the boat. Sure, there had been plenty of times where that very tube had been crucial to the survival of the crew, like when those terrorists had taken over the boat a few years ago, for example, but the fact remained. Darwin, as much as he loved the dolphin, saw everything. Darwin also happened to be almost as big as a blabbermouth as Tony; in fairness, though, there was no malice in it, Darwin merely asked questions about things he didn't understand. When the dolphin had questions, there were three people he was likely to query: Captain Bridger, Tony, and himself. Lucas knew he didn't dare take that chance -- Tony was bad enough but the captain was worse.

Much worse.

All of this meant that in order to have any small modicums of private time together, they'd have to think of an excuse. Since the captain had a scientific background and neither he nor the commander was a fool, it would have to be a good one. Ideally, both their fields of expertise would be involved and extensive periods of working together in close quarters would be necessary so that no one would question the arrangement for anything more than what it was. Lucas was good at thinking . . . they both were.

Ten miserable days later, Lucas presented an idea to the captain. Suppose he and Tim could create a component to be part of the communications equipment that would act as an emergency beacon when needed but act as a communications screen during other times? After some explanation of what he meant and some reminders of previous incidents where just such a device might have made their efforts much easier, Captain Bridger gave his blessing and allowed the pair to pencil in time together. Hell, Bridger probably did it just to keep Lucas out of trouble.

The second part was easy -- well, easy for him -- to program; it was just a matter of layered subroutines slaved into the communications system. These routines would analyze whether the image it was receiving had been tampered with in any way or had improper routing or any number of other things that would set off the bells and whistles. Granted, Lucas felt this was the sort of thing he liked to do, but if he could make the computer do it just as well, then his quest for the ultimate computer in this lifetime was one step closer to fruition.

It was the first part that kept me stumped, Lucas considered, quickly typing in the last few lines of code. Not that that was a bad thing, of course, since the longer this took, the more time they had before having to think of another reason to meet. The intellectual problem kept him focused during the day so that they would have a reason to meet every couple days for testing. Just slaving a power-watcher into the com board wasn't sufficient for the level of discretion it needed to have. After all, what happened when the station was down for upgrades or repairs? Nor could it be purely a solar-powered system, trained to watch the light levels on the Bridge. Somehow, a specialized solar system had to be combined with the brain of the boat's mainframe, routed sideways to watch the other stations, and accessed equally easy from both the computer station and the com board. Lucas knew he could write just such a program; after all, he'd designed the new boat's mainframe. Compared to that, this was a walk in the park. Thankfully, this program was bound to be a very delicate balance, one that would require weeks if not months of testing in a dark enclosed room. A dark enclosed room, like Tim's closet . . . that, by the way, did not have swim tube access. Of course, such a delicate balance would have to be carefully monitored . . . .

It all worked out beautifully, especially after Lucas had designed a monitor to watch and record what the program did or did not do correctly. After all, the closet was dark and they couldn't take the chance that they'd miss something. Of course, this monitor also left the couple free for other pursuits, but even in their relative privacy, they had to be cautious. And quiet -- which was hard. They also had to be careful about becoming too focused on their lovemaking and accidentally damage the equipment, so there was little they could really do. The closet was small, but it was enough.

Unfortunately, the alerts hadn't stopped. In fact, it seemed they became more frequent and always rang through the halls at the worst times. A few times, Lucas had very nearly threatened to strangle Tim if he didn't finish what he was doing, albeit quickly, before rushing to his station. None of it changed the end result -- they had some privacy, but their frustration hadn't really gone away.

Lucas had the odd feeling all these alerts were working up to something, something big, something nasty. It didn't really bear thinking about; whatever it was, neither he nor Tim could do anything about it. He just hoped neither of them got caught up in the mess. Christ, Tim had nearly died a few weeks ago, thanks to that Mariah bitch. Seeing his lover strapped to that chair, screaming. . . . At the memory of what Tim had said about the experience in private, Lucas shuddered at the sudden chill that taunted his nerve endings. God, if their relationship was being tested, there was a hell of a hard toll being exacted here. And speaking of hard tolls, Lucas considered fondly, it was time to meet Tim.

Ten minutes later, Lucas sat on the bed in Tim's quarters assembling the small square device and its monitor, watching his favorite lieutenant out of the corner of his eye. He'd never admit it, but Tim-watching was one of his favorite pastimes -- especially recently. Nervously twirling an antique pen between his fingers, Tim perched on the edge of his chair. Watching the clear crystalline swim with rich blue ink as the brunet swept it back and forth, around and around, between his long nimble fingers, Lucas felt his breath catch in his throat.

Now, to funnel that anxiety into a far, far better place. Getting Tim interested in sex had never been a problem, and Lucas didn't expect it to ever be a problem in the future. The future, thought the young man dreamily, as he carefully snapped the thumbnail-sized chip into its horseshoe-shaped holster. It was so strange to think you actually had a future, and somehow even more bizarre to contemplate a future you actually enjoyed. He and Tim would eventually have to have that talk about the future. While sneaking around lent a certain exotic spice to the taste of arousal, the stress of not getting caught was starting to run them both a bit ragged. His own anxiety deepening, Lucas flicked his wrist, and the small access hatch snicked tightly shut. "Okay, it's ready," he said, glancing at where Tim was seated. "Are you?"

His muscles cramped from waiting with so much tension, Tim stood and raised both arms above his head, slowly stretching out, arching his back and throwing his head back, feeling the crack as his spine reset. "Yeah, you better believe I'm ready." He smiled, knowing what the combination of his little demonstration and the smile would do for his lover.

"Oh really? Is that so?"

Tim took in the mischievous grin on his lover's face, and plastered a grimly serious mask over his own wide smile. "I'll make you believe," he breathed in a deeper tone, knowing that he was being played and also knowing the game was to his liking.

Crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of condescension, the blond fought to hide his own smirk and motioned anxiously to Tim with his fingers. "Well, come on then, let's see it." He sadly shook his head. "I haven't got all night, you know."

If only we did, the lieutenant thought, glancing nervously behind him at the swim tube. No matter how careful they were, they couldn't afford to be impetuous. After all, if someone just happened to pop through at the wrong moment, they were sunk. Since it was empty, though, Tim crossed the room in two quick strides and pulled Lucas close to him, tipping the golden head up, pressing the full red lips to his own, savoring the taste of his lover's mouth. Lucas relaxed into the kiss, his arms enfolding Tim in a firm squeeze, one hand sliding slowly down to caress the small of his back. He felt Tim's tongue gently probing his mouth, seeking access, and he opened his mouth slightly, feeling his lover's own caress along the enamel of his teeth. After a few glorious moments, they parted, looking fearfully around the room for anyone hiding whom they might have missed earlier.

Seeing that the swim tube remained deserted, his face flushed with a promise of further bliss, Lucas scooped up the two pieces of equipment and set them on the far inside edge of the closet. Beckoning Tim inside with a sly smile and a crooked finger, the couple settled at the other end of the closet, curled into a warm nest, lined with heavy blankets arranged to appear jumbled by chance rather than by design.

His back planted against the wall, Tim arranged his long legs so that the younger man could curl next to him spoon-fashion. They sat quietly for several minutes in that position, merely reveling in physical closeness, snuggling together in the warmth provided by the furnace they created in their hearts, and inhaling the sweet scent of their lover.

Drawing the blond even closer, Tim made the first move, flicking his tongue out to his lover's ear, teasingly caressing its inside, gently nipping at the lobe, tasting the golden hair that had been so hurriedly pushed out of the way. Gasping faintly, Lucas shifted to allow his lover better access, which had the advantage of gaining him access to Tim's throat. He slowly kissed his way along the pale skin, feeling Tim's hurried breaths, feeling his lover's heartbeat quicken with need.

Then Tim's hands were on his back, rubbing in long strokes from his shoulder blades to his tailbone. Something ignited within Lucas' veins, and his own hands moved of their own volition to Tim's chest, touching and petting in tiny circles around the small brown nipples. The brunet groaned softly, breaking his hold, and found his young lover's mouth, kissing him deeply, delighting in their tongues brushing against each other and exchanging memories of their meeting. Tasting teeth with long kisses, tongues exploring so deep they sought the light at each other's center, their bodies moving with the force of their breath, Lucas slid one hand still further south toward Tim's sex, wanting, wanting . . . .

"Battle stations, battle stations, all hands, man your battle stations!" Loud blaring sirens followed the unpleasant announcement in Ensign Dobbs' terminally excited voice. Lucas could see the red lights peeking under the closet door, laughing at them knowingly, mocking their frustration. Excited voices and running footsteps could already be heard pounding through the corridors.

Tim slammed his head back into the wall, unable to believe it, and Lucas let his head fall forward, resting it on Tim's chest. "It's not fair," moaned the blond, pitifully. "It's just not fair."

"I know." The com tech sighed -- and this alert was probably nothing, just like the last one -- but there was nothing to be done about it, he had to report and soon. "I love you, querido."

"Love you too." With a gentle kiss, stroking Lucas' cheek with one finger, Tim opened the door, smoothed his rumpled clothes, and left. Deserted, there was little left for Lucas to do. Not daring to write a note, he packed away the equipment in silence. After punching the bulkhead on his way out the door, still bemoaning the unfairness of the universe, Lucas headed for the stairs, knowing his destiny was to spend another night alone in his bunk, unfulfilled.

Sighing with frustration, Tim wearily shuffled into his quarters, recognizing the silence was indicative of his solitude. Lucas had left, gone probably to his own quarters. Dammit, couldn't they have one uninterrupted evening together? Of course, the alert turned out to be nothing. I'm going to have to sit Dobbs down and have a nice long talk with her about checking out what the sensors say before punching the panic button. But then, Dobbs was still young, fresh from the Academy, just barely out of her plebe whites, and this was her first assignment. No doubt, she was good; she had to be to get assigned to the seaQuest straight away. It was just . . . well, it wasn't really his problem. As he prepared for bed, Tim smiled faintly, remembering the disgusted expression on Miguel's face at being called out because the ensign handling the WKRS had misinterpreted what he had read. Clearly, Ensign Nowles would also be getting a stern lecture in the morning.

Curled up in the warmth of his bunk, sleep eluded Tim. It wasn't any great surprise; he knew what was really eluding him: a certain angel-faced computer whiz. If only the alert had come an hour or so later! Hell, he'd have made do with another twenty minutes. He and Lucas would have had to rush, but, at least, then, they could have made love. Which is more than they had would up with this time. "Hmmmmm." Drowsily, the lieutenant wondered dreamily how the evening might have continued, had the alert not sounded, and drifted off to sleep on the waves of a beautiful dream . . .

Lucas' nimble fingers danced along the fabric at his lover's groin, teasingly rubbing along the growing bulge he could feel there before unzipping the flap in the older man's jumpsuit. "One of the good things about these suits . . . I don't have to wear one." The blond blew a kiss upward before taking the engorged cock in his mouth and sucking hard.

Feeling the heat surrounding him, the dark man hissed, arching his back, entwining his fingers in his angel's golden hair. Lucas' tongue swirled around the head, nipping at it lightly before pulling back and kissing along the shaft. His hand slid between his lover's thighs, cupping his balls and squeezing gently, drawing a muffled moan from his lover, his voice choked with the effort of remaining quiet.

Panting with lust, unable to control himself enough, he thrust his hips, trying not to hurt Lucas, but knowing his climax was close. Throwing both arms down, bracing himself against the deck and the wall, he groaned softly, his cock pulsing inside his young lover's mouth as his climax tore through him. Purring his pleasure having heard the aftershocks of climax, Lucas greedily swallowed everything he was given before rising to meet his mouth with his own, his lips streaked with the sticky white fluid. Their tongues met, kissing deeper, straight to each other's souls, burning paths only memory could travel.

Knowing how much they both ached to take that route, his hands traveled down to the blond's jeans and unbuttoned them. Feeling firm hands slowly making their way down to his ass, stroking his own erect sex, Lucas leaned further into the kiss and groaned. Pulling down jeans and not shocked at all to find no underwear, the dark man pulled his lover to him so that he could thrust himself inside and . . . .

After several minutes of tossing and turning, Doctor Wendy Smith snapped awake out of what had been a sound sleep. Wondering what had woken her, she settled back into her cozy bed, blearily struggling to make some sort of vague sense of the jumbled images she had received. Two people making love. Ick. Wait a minute . . . Lucas . . . and another man? A man wearing a seaQuest jumpsuit? One of the crew? Shocked beyond comprehension, unable to believe what she’d witnessed through someone else’s eyes, Wendy sat bolt upright, tossing covers to the deck. "What the hell!?"

Angel's Lullaby
Part Two: "Suspicious Minds"

Three days later, Wendy Smith found herself seated in the mess hall, drinking a cup of tea, trying to figure out what the hell she should do. I can't deny what I saw . . . heard . . . felt, she shrugged. Whatever, I'm not even sure I can explain it . . . it was so . . . so real. More real than usual. She chuckled at the thought of psychic experiences being classified on the basis of their reality, since by definition all such events were both inside of and yet separate from this plane of reality. Face it, Wendy girl, what bothers you is that what you experienced was the most blatantly erotic dream you've ever had in your life, and dammit it belonged to someone else.

Stirring her tea with a cinnamon stick, she knew that was the point about the dream that bothered her the most. Whose dream was it? And why is Lucas the other participant? Is this dream an effect of an ongoing relationship? Is it a wish-fulfillment on the dreamer's part? Wendy sighed, knowing she couldn't afford to ignore the dream, knowing what ugly possibilities also circled, as evidenced by Tony's and Dagwood's shared dream not long ago. Was this some perverted attempt to seduce Lucas, sending these images to him in the night? Priming someone else to?

She didn't want to go to the captain with this. God knew Nathan Bridger had enough on his mind these days, but it didn't seem she had any choice, not if she was going to protect Lucas. Wendy knew, knew all too well, that was something she had to do.

Whatever the invasion of privacy might cost her.

Standing next to Captain Bridger, barely able to move for the lassitude filling his body, Lucas stared blankly at a film of Tony’s ‘confession’, watching his best friend admitting that he had been sent to spy on the Confederation for the UEO. That’s not Tony . . . it’s a trick . . . they messed with the film, anybody could, I could . . . Someone -- his hearing had fritzed out, so he wasn’t entirely certain who -- bitterly commented that, in all likelihood, Piccolo had been tortured into giving the confession, telling his captors what they wanted to hear.

That happened to Tim.

It might have been me not long ago.

All the color drained from Lucas’ face, and he fought to stay upright, struggling to follow the discussion going on around him, busily engaged in a dirty war with his own memories of Mariah and his own experience at Clay Marshall’s hands. Mind, rather. The blond shuddered, recalling the sensation accompanying Marshall’s mindsweep; it had been rather like thousands of insects crawling over every part of his body, their legs skittering over his skin, sounding like rolling thunder in his ears, each step driving agony into his skull. Every mental shove Marshall used to force his way inside Lucas’ mind, digging with ghostly fingers, rummaging through the closets of his soul.

Shaking himself out of remembered terror, the teen mentally reviewed the conversation to this point, and managed to join it again. Eidetic memory had its good points . . . as well as its bad points. At least no one noticed I nearly had a massive coronary just now . . . .

The next evening, Lucas sat spoon-fashion next to his lover, safely enfolded within his arms, both of them safe within their little closet-nest. They’d hoped to celebrate this little victory over the Confederation of South American Nations in their own special way, but Tim had noticed that his favorite computer whiz was unusually quiet. “You don’t seem yourself,” he said quietly, hugging Lucas closely. “Is there anything I can do?”

The teen smiled half-heartedly, but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. Knowing his facade had crumbled, Lucas sighed and snuggled closer to Tim. “Hold me?” The lieutenant pulled the boy close, and was startled to hear soft weeping in response. Now he was really worried.

“Lucas?”

The young man cried several minutes more before he was able to get himself under control. Sniffling, he started to wipe his eyes but Tim did it for him, gently brushing away tears with a fingertip. “You know that Tony managed to get a line through to me after he escaped from his cell?” At the brunet’s concerned nod, he continued, “I . . . tried to get Tony to get out of the compound, but he insisted he had to find his friend Eddie.” Lucas swallowed hard, feeling tears again begin to run down his cheeks. “I had to . . . tell him Eddie was probably dead, but Tony wouldn’t listen to me. Tony was so sure that Eddie was still alive, out there in the swamp somewhere, and he was going to find him if it was the last thing he did.” Tim tightened his grip around his lover as a shudder racked the blond’s slender frame.

“After all that, Tony had so much faith in his friend’s survival, and he would find him alive, and if not, he would bring Eddie’s body home.” Lucas dropped his eyes, absurdly ashamed of his need to be comforted. His soft voice diminished to a whisper, barely loud enough to be heard. “I hoped and prayed that if that,” the boy shivered, “. . . was ever you, that I would be strong enough to do the same.”

His confession finished, his energy spent, Lucas lay within the encircling confines of Tim’s arms, their heads bowed, tight in each other’s loving embrace. They stayed that way for the rest of the night, merely listening to each other’s body, counting each breath, tracking each heartbeat.

Okay, this is it, right through that door. However, in spite of that motivation, Wendy did not move from her spot in front of the door to the captain's quarters. That went well. Exasperated, she tried again to motivate herself. Come on, you have to do this. This is it...right through that door. Again, no progress was made.

This is ridiculous, she thought. Why is this so hard, this shouldn't be hard at all. Just walk in there and tell the captain what might be going on this boat. Easy. Simple, even. Then why haven't you gone in there, Wendy girl? Wendy sighed, knowing in her heart what her brain didn't want to consider. What do I tell Nathan? That the young man he thinks of as his own son might be being exploited, sexually abused, or at least used by a member of the crew for a sex toy? Of course, she reiterated, it might be that there's a new relationship going on here...in which case, what I'm about to do is a terrible breach of privacy.

But can I afford to take that chance? Wendy had no doubts that she had to at least report it -- Lucas, ever one to trust those around him, had been taken advantage of not that long ago by a woman who used him for her own needs. That experience might have left him open to another person desiring to exploit the young man's innocence.

That thought spurring her on, Wendy Smith knocked on the door. The sudden spurt of fear filling her heart almost made her wish she'd done nothing, but the equally sudden near-maternal instinct forced her to continue.

"Enter."

Riding the waves of emotion, knowing that it wouldn't help her stay focused or help her control what was sure to be an unpleasant discussion, she strode uncertainly through the door and settled herself on both a physical and mental level. "Captain...." All at once, Wendy wasn't sure where to begin. Whatever I say, however I say it, it's bound to hurt him.

"What is it, Wendy?" His expression puzzled, Captain Bridger sat at his desk, his glasses hanging just off the bridge of his nose. Shifting some papers out of the way, he gestured her to a chair.

Grateful for the old-fashioned hospitality -- that was one thing she liked about him...you could tell he was one of the old school, one of those born in the '70s -- Wendy tried to work her way through her words. It would also help a lot if she could soften the blow, too. "I'm not really sure how to put this...so it would help if you would work with me a bit, okay?"

"Okay." Nathan Bridger made a teepee of his hands and waited for her to continue.

This is wrong, this is all wrong. She jumped to her feet, muttering "I shouldn't have come, this is wrong". Pressing her hands to her face, Wendy tried to make it to the door, without success. In seconds, Nathan was right there, peeling her hands away and guiding her back to the chair she'd so hurriedly vacated, soothing her fears with soft words.

"Wendy, what is it? What's 'wrong'?"

She looked up, seeing him sitting so close to her, his blue eyes so pricelessly honest. God, how could she tell him this? How could she not? Sooner or later, it would have to come out, and if it all went bad, and he discovered she had suspected, what would that mean? Wendy swallowed hard on her own fear, and took his hands in her own. "I think there's something going on with Lucas."

"What? Is it serious?" All his paternal instincts had risen to the fore with those eight words. His voice clearly reflected the strain of having the responsibility for a precocious young man who found trouble as naturally as a needle turned to north.

"I'm not sure." She squeezed his hand firmly. "All I caught was a dream about a week or so ago -- I'm not sure whose -- about Lucas and a male member of the crew" she paused for a moment, unsure of her next words, "in a sexually explicit position."

Clearly, Captain Bridger had been taken by surprise -- his eyes were huge, his mouth slightly open, his whole existence stunned by the news. "I . . . I don't know what to say." Rubbing his hands over his face, trying to push the blood back where it should be, he managed to say, "You're sure of this?"

"No, I'm not, that's just it." Wendy tried to make her own confusion and misgivings clear. "It could be that what I saw is merely a fantasy on someone's part . . . or maybe there is a relationship and it's a consensual one." She paused, dividing the good and bad possibilities. "On the other hand, it might be that Lucas is being exploited by this other person, or maybe he or the crew member are being primed somehow for someone else's purpose." A shrug showed her full understanding of their options. "It could even be something I haven't even considered yet."

"You're sure the other man is a member of the crew?"

Wendy nodded. "That I'm sure of, Lucas made a clear reference to the other man wearing a seaQuest jumpsuit." He's taking this well . . . much better than I expected. Although, she reflected, it might be just a facade, built to protect his own feelings.

And his own fears.

Thoughtful, Bridger stared past her to the ocean view; Wendy could see the wheels turning in the older man's mind as he tried to figure out their course of action. "You didn't see or hear anything that could pinpoint him other than that, anything we can use to narrow the field a little?" He spread his arms in an entreating gesture. "You know as well as I do how many people we have on this ship."

Closing her eyes, trying to review what she had experienced, Wendy tried to separate herself from the mind-blowing heat she saw in her mind's eye and to focus only on the other man. Male . . . that was obvious enough . . . Caucasian, not of Hispanic descent . . . I don't think . . . dark-haired . . . wow . . . . Bluntly, she dragged herself out of trance before it was too late. After all, when the dream had originally hit her, she'd very nearly reached orgasm herself before the implications of what, and more importantly, whom she was seeing occurred to her. "A dark-haired man, white, probably not Hispanic."

Nathan sighed. "Wendy, that doesn't exactly narrow it down."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Still," he considered, rubbing his chin with the heel of one hand. "There is someone we can ask . . . ."

Astonished, Wendy sat back in her chair, all at once grateful beyond words that she was seated. This is not going to go well at all. Not at all.

For the zillionth time in the past several days -- some of which had been rather harrowing and didn't bear thinking about, days he didn't want to think about -- Lucas found himself watching his lover type. Tim's long fingers, born to dance across ivories and bring beautiful music into the light, swept along the keyboard, depressing each letter with firm conviction of its place in the document, of its importance to the universe. Oddly enough, or maybe it wasn't so odd, that selfsame importance was how Tim made Lucas feel: that he had become the center of his older lover's universe.

It scared Lucas sometimes -- to be that important, to anyone, was intensely new. Not even his own parents had placed the same amount of value on him as Tim did now, which worried him as to how long it would last. He wanted to believe that they were forever, he did believe they were forever.

But that did nothing to erase his fears.

Still, those fingers -- and what those fingers were capable of doing to him, to say nothing of that mouth -- captured his attention. Those long lovely fingers swirled around in an elegant tango, swinging one way and then the next, coming together and then parting with sweet sorrow.

"What are you smiling at?"

The sound of his lover's voice snapped Lucas out of his daze. "Huh?"

Tim smiled, pausing in his work. "I said," a sparkle lighting the corners of his eyes, "'what are you smiling at?'"

"Oh," the blond grinned, trying to remain casual. "I was just thinking about dancing and making beautiful music." That should provoke a reaction, he thought.

"Hmmmm." The non-committal sound wasn't exactly what Lucas had hoped to hear, but he could see the corners of Tim's eyes crinkling in what must be a teasing manner.

"What?"

"Well," Tim continued, "I was just considering how we should do that."

That remark almost dropped Lucas off a cliff. After all, their project was just about done, save for the reports they were finishing. They'd stalled as long as they dared, hoping that no one in authority -- the captain, the commander, or Doctor Smith, for example -- asked for an update. The trouble was, Lucas decided, the two of us are just too damned efficient. Both of them loved what they did, and that shouldn't be a problem, but it was because they also loved each other.

Lucas just hoped he never had to choose between the two.

He was sure the choice would kill him.

"What did you have in mind?" Oh, this is bad, this is soooooo bad, we are so out in the open, but it will be soooooo good, oh . . . .

His dark lover smiled, that number three smile that made his heart melt and his knees shake, the smile where those full red lips spread, crinkling just a tiny bit at the corners, exposing just the barest hint of white teeth. Parting his lips, the teen felt his tongue catch on the edge of his own teeth, his heart pounding a crazy staccato, his breath burning its way out of his throat. Closer, closer came those lips to his own, and, slowly, slowly those lips parted.

Lucas' PAL buzzed, its high-pitched notes disrupting the moment.

A touch of humor lightening his tone of voice, Tim groaned in despair. "What is it with this boat?"

"I don't know," the blond almost snarled. "But it's really starting to piss me off." He punched the appropriate button on the small hand-held device, eagerly venting his violence on the defenseless piece of machinery. "Yeah? What?"

Captain Bridger's voice came from the tiny speaker. "Is that how you answer the vidphone?"

"Sometimes."

A sigh, heavy with annoyance, drifted through. "Lucas, please come to my quarters for a moment." After a pause, the captain continued speaking, only there was a stress to his voice that hadn't been there before. "I have something I need to discuss with you . . . something important."

"Okay," the teen replied, puzzlement showing on his face as he clicked off the PAL. He turned back to Tim, now clearly worried. "What do you think he wants?" A terrible thought struck him, nearly bowling him off his feet. "Do you think he knows?" the words tumbled out, the force and the fear and the pain already ripping him to the core.

"No, I'm sure he doesn't."

"We've been careful."

"Yes, we have been." Tim sighed and gave his lover a quick hug. "I'm sure he just wants an update on the project."

That must be it, Captain Bridger just wants to know how close we are to finishing it, he probably told the brass about it and they're asking for the update. Lucas breathed a little easier, his heart settling down to its normal pattern. That must be it.

Fifteen minutes later, Lucas found himself having trouble holding onto his pulse at all, holding onto his temper, and holding onto an increasingly tenuous grip on his mind. "I don't believe you! Since when is my personal life any of your damned business!"

Seething with rage, the teenager wasn't sure he cared whose toes he stomped on at this point. Wendy had somehow caught a part of a dream, whose it was she didn't know, and had reported it to the captain. She'd reported it, like his sex life was a matter of national security or something. Well, okay, so it came close that one time, Lucas considered, fighting to control his temper, watching Bridger and Wendy regroup to formulate a better plan of attack.

And an attack was what it had been, practically from the moment he entered the captain's quarters and sat down. Bridger had begun by explaining that he was only concerned about the younger man's welfare, and he had been under a great deal of stress lately, but Wendy blew the conversation wide open as soon as she asked who his lover was. Lucas' initial fear and shock had very quickly given way to rage. How dare they question me? Don't they think I’m capable of managing a relationship on my own? I’m an adult, aren’t I? Unable to rein in the fury consuming him, Lucas paced frantically, back and forth in 'his' part of the room, wheeling his tight corners with suppressed violence, driven by the demons whipping his flanks. So I’m not terribly experienced, so what? What the hell do you expect when you spend your childhood being shuttled from school to school to a submarine? Hell, I can't even remember having a childhood! And they're showing concern for my well-being now? No thanks, Lucas thought fiercely, seeing that the dialogue from his inquisitors had stopped.

The pair sat back down in the chairs, and gazed at the teenager expectantly. Neither said anything for a few moments, apparently waiting for some signal that their prisoner was calming down and becoming amenable to confession. Well, it’s not going to work, the blond decided. Shooting as evil a glance as he could muster at the both of them, he vowed, "I'll never talk."

Mixed frustration and annoyance showing on his face, Captain Bridger sighed, and tried again. "Lucas, this isn't about getting you to confess--"

"Isn't it?"

"No," Bridger continued calmly, "it isn't. This is about me -- the person responsible for your welfare," he held up a hand, stopping any protest, "even though you're a legal adult." He tapped the chair-arm forcefully, meeting the teen's belligerent gaze. "All of the civilians on this boat are my responsibility, and that includes you. I just want to make sure that this relationship -- if that's what it is -- is something you want to do. I just want to make sure you're not being pushed into doing things you don't want to do."

Although somewhat mollified by this news, Lucas still didn't find any comfort in the captain's words. Having been privy to Nathan Bridger's insight all this time -- not to mention having had the ability to break into UEO records to read the man's extensive files -- he knew full well that Bridger usually had a couple plans up his sleeve at a time, and when those failed, he relied on his good sense and unbelievable luck. Of course, sometimes things didn't quite work out the way he planned, but they always worked out. Lucas hated the fact that now they had been set on opposing sides, but there was nothing to be done about it because . . . . No, don't think about him, Wendy might hear you. Still, it was hard to believe they'd so blatantly invade his privacy this way . . . .

"You don't have anything to worry about," Lucas said, making an effort to keep his voice at a reasonable level, even though he could detect a shake in it that had nothing to do with arousal. "Yes, I'm in a sexual relationship with a guy." His face a mask, devoid of as much emotion as he felt able, he nodded to Wendy. "Yes, it's consensual, no, I'm not being suckered or used or exploited or anything else." Lucas dropped into the chair and allowed Bridger to see the truth of his words in his face. "I'm in love, and he loves me."

Nathan Bridger took a deep breath, and, seeing this, Lucas tensed. "Not to contradict you, Lucas, but you've said that before . . . .” His sentence trailed off, either in confusion or simple lack of words that wouldn’t cause another emotional outburst or both, but the meaning behind the fragment was clear.

“You mean Sandra.”

“Yes.”

Unsure how much to reveal to his captain, Lucas considered what he should say. Indeed, he remembered Sandra Kirby, the beautiful and intelligent woman who had wanted him for his security clearance. Although -- literally -- sorely tempted, there had been nothing to their relationship; she had offered herself to him, presenting herself as a gift-wrapped toy, promising to fulfill his every desire that night and every night ever after, and he had refused, claiming a committed relationship.

Later, Lucas reflected, he’d repeatedly kicked himself for even thinking that anyone might want him for anything except his exceptional access to classified material. Lately, Tim had been the only exception to that long-proven rule. Sandra had graciously -- or so he’d thought at the time -- accepted the refusal and they had settled down talking philosophy and computers most of the night. He’d slept on her couch with a couple blankets, and had been greeted the following morning with bagels and coffee.

It had been in the taxi that an idea had nickered its devious way into his mind. Tim still worried about anyone in the chain of command finding out about them, and Lucas had racked his brain for the past five weeks, ever since they got together, trying to neutralize his lover’s fear of what might occur. But if he wasn’t a member of the crew, then why would anyone care about their relationship? Yes, the blond had reflected, it would mean seeing Tim less frequently but they would always be assured of privacy and they wouldn’t have that particular sword of Damocles hanging over their heads. In addition, finding work wouldn’t be a problem since he was sought after both by military and private vendors. Some of the offers would keep them both very well indeed, plus chances for R & D, promotion, and various other perks of the technologically in demand. Besides, he did own a considerable amount of stock in his dad’s business.

And there was his as-yet-unfinished Ph.D. to consider. Nearly all the requirements had been met, leaving him to complete the requisite teaching experience, about nine credits of electives, the dissertation, and thesis defense. When his dad had snatched him up out of Stanford with barely a word and no explanation only to drop-kick him to a submarine with a bunch of adults who barely tolerated his presence, Lucas admittedly had nearly strangled the man. His disposition had only worsened on learning that his thesis project -- Darwin’s vocorder -- had been integrated into the boat’s design. At least now, Lucas had considered, he was a cinch to ace the thesis defense -- what more proof did the board need?

So, on arrival back at the boat, Lucas had put his plan into action; make it look as if he was leaving to be with a girl, and both he and Tim would be safe. The news had done the grapevine proud, but he’d been sure to get to his lover first and had had the plan okayed with reservations. Everything had gone straight to hell from there. Snapping out of his reverie, Lucas raised his eyes to the couple watching him. “Nothing happened between us. It was a ruse to make everything think something had.” That was enough, the teenager decided.

“I see.” A deep sigh indicated a change of subject was imminent, a fact which pleased the blond teenager no end. “How is your project coming with O’Neill?”

The project . . . . As soon as the thought-trail reached its destination in the flick of a cat’s paw, Lucas knew with terrible certainty that he had just won the battle but lost the war. He simply hadn’t been able to help himself; their communications project and their secret lovemaking had been irreversibly linked for nearly a month, and the mention of one had naturally led to the other. Wendy’s comically changing expression and the heat that seeped from her pores told him that she’d caught the images flashing through his mind like a motion picture at a peep show.

Stunned beyond comprehension, Bridger realized it almost at the same time but the disbelief was plain in his expression. “O’Neill? Lieutenant Tim O’Neill? Our Lieutenant Tim O’Neill?”

Dammit. “Yes, yes, and yes.” Oh yes.

Taking a deep breath, Nathan Bridger continued to level his gaze on the young man. “Why did O’Neill want that time off?” Then quickly, a concerned edge to his voice, “Do you know?”

“Of course I know,” crackled the reply, an equally sharp edge underlining each syllable. “It was partly what Tim told you . . . but he also planned to look for a condo . . . for us.” At that, Lucas felt his face reddening at the admission, thinking of the utterly gigantic step it represented. “We figured if anyone asked we could just say that I lost mine and sharing was cheaper . . . .” A three-bedroom so that each of us had a home office, and a single bedroom, with a door that would lock securely so that no one would realize there was only one bed. “But, well, he . . . .” Phantom images danced a dirge across Lucas’ soul, haunting the house where his heart lived, remembering a writhing Tim who screamed in agony, screaming for release of an entirely different fashion.

Pressure of someone’s hand on his arm pulled Lucas out of whatever state he’d been in, sick and shaking with a terror that should have left. Vaguely lightheaded, he glanced up to see Bridger firmly holding him in place, saw Wendy a few steps away, her face a picture of concern and fear. Must have been the memory . . . let it blitz me, gotta find a way to take away its power. “I’m okay,” Lucas reassured them, even though he really didn’t feel that terrific. Can’t be ruled by a memory.

Slowly the captain released his grip and settled back in his chair, his every movement radiating concern and worry. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” The captain didn’t sound too convinced though, so Lucas tried to settle his suddenly unsteady nerves with some technique Tim had taught him. He’d only dropped his eyes to the floor for a second when the captain’s next words shot him out of his chair, his panicked eyes huge, his whole body rigid with tension. “Let’s see what Mister O’Neill has to say about this.”

“No!”

Noting his ward’s obvious distress, Captain Bridger didn’t say anything but merely gave Lucas the look that proclaimed ‘I’m in charge and I know what’s best for you.’ This unspoken statement was quickly followed by a similar look from Wendy Smith that said equally clearly ‘shut up, sit down, and do what I tell you.’ Helpless in the face of their determination, Lucas had no choice but to do as he was directed and wait for his whole world to come crashing down around his ears.

It was funny, he reflected, how short it took for Armageddon to arrive. He’d always thought that such a momentous event would take days and days and days of agony, allowing the survivors to wallow in unbearable suffering from fiery rain or unbearable cold, wailing in the denial of life itself while the earth wreaked its vengeance on its abusive keepers.

In truth, the end of everything took only a few minutes.

The instant his dark lover entered the room, Lucas felt his heart jump into his throat, anxiously watching the changing expressions on his beautiful face, knowing his own reflected only stark terror. Startled amazement gave way to realization, which in turn gave way to fear and worry. His heart pounding hideously in his chest, so fast each beat began to run together in a blur of motion, Lucas hoped he didn’t see betrayal in Tim’s expressive brown eyes.

“Sir?” Tim’s voice was cool, but the younger man detected a vague tremble in his voice, showing a trace of the older man’s own fears. Lucas longed to reach out and grab his lover, pull him close and hold him tightly, squeezing away their worry and inhale each other for eternity, singing their song of love in a key only they could hear. Daring not do what he wished, the blond visualized a flame-colored cable stretched between them, and poured his love and strength and need into it, hoping, knowing, needing their connection to see them over, under, and through any obstacle blocking their path.

“Do you have anything to say, Lieutenant?”

Drawing a deep breath, Tim glanced around the room for a moment but he didn’t say a word. Then, the moment stretched to breaking, he merely sauntered across the room to where Lucas sat, curled up around the depths of his misery. The brunet stared down until the blond glanced up uncertainly, and their eyes met, searching each other’s self, their souls meeting and entwining in a dance for the newly reborn. Passion instantly replaced the pain, drained away the fear, replacing all the negativity with raging need of two lovers, replenishing a desolate wasteland with their cool sweet waters.

Reaching down, Tim took Lucas’ small hand in his own, caressing the palm with his thumb, silently pulling the younger man to him in a desperate embrace. Their mouths met only briefly, lips caressing while tongues kissed, every participant demanding more and more, their entwined hearts beating in unison, singing a sacred hymn older than civilization itself.

And Armageddon became Eden.

After a few moments, Tim forced himself to break the kiss, but defiantly held his dreamy-dazed lover close, their hands clasped, their fingers braided in an unseverable knot. Together, the couple silently faced the watching pair on the other side of the room until Tim cleared his throat. “Did you have any other questions for us, Captain?”

A rueful smile on his face, Nathan Bridger chuckled and waved them both towards the door. “All I ask is that you both be careful, alright?” Their matching smiles answered him.

Nathan Bridger shooed the lovers out into the corridor, recognizing the intricate masquerade playing out on the invisible stage before him as both men walked slowly toward the MAG-LEV, touching each other’s bodies with only their eyes, hearts, and souls. Closing the door, he turned back to where his remaining guest sat limply in her chair, her pale skin flushed by what they both had witnessed.

“Unbelievable,” the doctor breathed, fanning her face and throat with a hand.

“No,” he corrected, “what’s unbelievable is the fact that both of them kept it a secret this long.” And that the brilliant young man I watched grow up has fallen in love for keeps. Bridger dropped into his chair, remembering the many times he’d marveled at the swift feet of rumor. “On this boat, I thought that was impossible.”

“It’s going to stay their secret, too,” agreed Wendy. “I have to admit, they’re good for each other.”

Thinking of the subtle changes he could only now recall and give name to in both young men, Nathan nodded in complete agreement. That was certainly true. That mind-numbing kiss he’d watched had convinced him of that, reminding him of his own long-ago, oft-remembered embraces with Carol, gone now from him for so long. How they’d spent whole days doing nothing but enjoying each other’s company, stealing moments for a future that was not to be. Love could never be stolen; the more of it you took, the more you received from your partner. “They’re well matched at that.” Struck by an abrupt thought, Nathan Bridger snorted at its utter irrationality.

“What?”

“It could have been worse . . . it might have been Tony.”

From that moment, desperate to protect themselves and each other, the couple kept their relationship carefully guarded, being even more discreet than before, continuing to use the project excuse as a way to meet. As they dared not make love, forcibly restraining their touches to feathery brushes and deep tongue-stealing exploration, frustration ran rampant.

A few days later, a message from the captain awaited them in the morning -- a message to meet him in his quarters immediately. Neither understood why and weren’t entirely certain they cared. After all, hadn’t they already bared their souls, shared the depths of their commitment to each other? What other questioning could be turned on them?

Lucas scanned the room on entering, but saw nothing amiss. Giving a tiny shrug in reply to Tim’s puzzled expression, both stood in front of their superior, waiting to hear the news that was so obviously important. With a catlike smile, Captain Bridger began speaking as soon as the door snicked shut. “Lieutenant, Lucas,” nodding to each in turn, “it appears the UEO brass back at HQ aren’t as smart as they like to tell us they are.” Glancing at Lucas, resignation on his face, he continued, “One of their scientists did something and broke the Scarab we recovered from the Confederation.”

“The one I got to work and they snatched away?”

“The very same,” Bridger grinned. “So now they want you to run over there and put Humpty Dumpty back together again.”

“That figures,” Lucas muttered under his breath, annoyed.

Ignoring the mean-spirited (but probably true) comment, the captain turned to O’Neill, his face still wreathed in a smile, the very picture of a contented cat. “While on the line, I also happened to mention the communications component to the Secretary General. He was not only very pleased at the initiative, but also delighted to hear of its completion.” Bridger’s eyes glinted knowingly. “So he wants both of you to go to UEO HQ for a presentation.”

The meaning of that simple statement appeared magically in Lucas’ mind, written in huge flaming letters miles wide, speaking a language known only to lovers. Sharing a glance, its full translation, complete with footnotes, made itself known with a clarity never realized except by those who truly see. Time off the boat . . . together . . . in private . . . .

Angel's Lullaby
Part Three: "Close to You"

“You think he arranged this, don’t you?” From the passenger seat in the small shuttle, Lucas Wolenczak carefully eyed his lover, wondering why the older man had been so quiet. Bridger had offered them a shuttle, but on learning the shuttle in question was the cursed MR-7, both he and Tim had steadfastly refused to so much as set foot on the ill-fated vessel. Although Commander Ford had had a good laugh at the pair’s misgivings, Captain Bridger had taken pity on them both and offered one of the newer shuttles, MR-9.

Since then, their trip to New Cape Quest had been fairly quiet -- no distress calls, no rampaging prehistoric crocodiles, no angered sea gods, nothing of any kind. Which was perfectly fine, Lucas reflected, although the prospect of being shipwrecked and marooned on a desert island didn’t sound too bad at all. There were some definite advantages to beachfront living, even though it did have this down side about picking sand out of odd places for weeks afterwards.

The scenario played out in the teenager’s mind for several minutes, just the two of them, alone surrounded by wind and water and clean white sand. Making love on the beach, singing love songs accompanied only by the croons of passing whales, endless possibilities of pleasure brought the young man to a dizzying state of arousal. Astonished to find his eyes closed, wondering when in the past few minutes his rebelling eyelids had drifted shut, Lucas leaned towards Tim. “You didn’t answer me, you know.”

“Hmmmm?”

The faintly inquisitive tone of the lieutenant’s response only served to arouse Lucas further, and he was able to detect a similar note in his lover’s voice. That was probably why Tim had been so quiet, busily figuring out ways to drive him wild. They hadn’t been able to leave until that afternoon, so they’d likely be ‘driving’ most of the night, and since their appointment at HQ was, in Lucas’ own personal opinion, way too early in the morning, at 7 am, any loveplay would have to wait until the following night.

Unless . . . .

A mischievous grin lit up the teen’s face, as he leaned in closer to the brunet, tickling the older man’s ear with his breath, trickling fingerlight touches down his lover’s spine. “Ever heard of the Iron Man Driving Test?” he whispered softly, his teeth nipping gently.

“Can’t say as I have,” Tim gasped, “but I think I can guess.”

Already shifting his hands to travel down the older man’s back, across his hips, Lucas kissed his way down his lover’s throat, angling to nibble on a small area where it met jaw. He lovingly caressed each part of the wonderful body spread out before him like a banquet as he worked his way slowly down towards his goal, quenching his thirst with sweat, drinking in hot exotic musk that proved their ardor, fingering every each of skin he could reach.

Groaning a steady melody to accompany his lover’s whispered string of soft entreaties, Tim shifted around in his chair, in time with Lucas’ gentle positioning, giving the younger man better access. Kneeling between his legs, the blond gently unzipped the jumpsuit and exposed the erection in front of him. Gazing up at the yearning expression on Tim’s face, Lucas gently stroked the burning flesh with his fingertips, flicking his talented tongue along the crimson head, drawing a moan from above.

“Ohhh . . . God . . . .”

Rubbing his hand up and down the shaft, raining kisses and curling his tongue around the shaft, petting the balls with his other hand, Lucas felt Tim arching his back in anticipation, felt the other man struggling to retain control over the speeding craft. As the blond used his tongue to suck the head into his mouth, feeling it slide down to fill his throat, Tim’s hips bucked in climax, and he cried out his release.

Although the sudden swerve and drastic reduction in velocity a few moments later nearly knocked him to the deck, Lucas made sure to suckle every last drop and clean up before padding silently to his seat. After buckling his safety belt, casting another mischievous look in Tim’s direction, Lucas gave the lieutenant his most innocent smile. “You passed.”

“Any chance I can be tested again on the way home?”

“Look,” sighed Lucas exasperatingly, “we’ve been over this a hundred times already.” ‘What was it he’d had to fix with the Scarab to make it work?’ Why was it that they couldn’t grasp it? It’s almost five o’clock, for Christ’s sake! He waved an elegant hand at the recently-reassembled equipment and then back at the three alleged scientists seated on the other side of the long table. “When the operating system crashes, you don’t want to reboot it normally.” Raising a hand to stop their protests, the enraged squalls of children who couldn’t take care of their toys, he continued, “You reboot, and switch to the other drive, then you can see the lines of code that need to be rewritten.” Lucas gestured to the white board, on which he’d drawn a diagram he’d hoped would help them comprehend. “Then you save and reboot like you normally would.”

One of the scientists -- Doctor Lileth Leigh -- spoke up, her harsh tone giving her innocent question an accusing lilt. “So the back-up system isn’t relevant?”

“The backup system is just that: a back-up system, and it works independently of the Scarab’s main operating system. Otherwise there wouldn’t be any point in installing one.” Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Lucas wondered whether they’d ever let them leave.

Their shuttle had docked in the wee hours of the morning, and by the time all the paperwork had been completed and they’d caught a taxi to Lucas’ apartment, Tim had been too exhausted to even consider some loveplay in bed. Indeed, he’d had to help the older man into bed, not that undressing his lover was a chore, mind you. Lucas had offered several times during the journey to take his turn driving -- it wasn’t as if he’d never driven a shuttle and all that time in the Stinger had to be good for something -- but Tim had refused, saying that the captain expected him to take care of it since Lucas would be expected to perform most of the technical explanation.

And, to some degree, that had been exactly the case. The Secretary General had questioned Tim a bit about what the communications module did and why it could be important to a boat’s operation, but for the last seven hours the lieutenant had been sacked out on a couch in the lounge. Lucas had managed to wake him for lunch, but that had been all, and Tim had gone back to sleep almost as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Lucas’ own day had been spent being shuttled between the Secretary General with questions about the nodule and the three scientists, who between them probably couldn’t even make the first few connections to break the bank. He’d liked two of them well enough, Doctors Jared Templeton and Andrea Rossi, but the third, Doctor Leigh, had disliked him immediately, resenting the younger man’s position, prestige, intelligence, and whatever else her beef was. It wasn’t important; he’d dealt with her kind in the past, especially back when he was younger. No matter how smart you were, people didn’t pay attention six-year-olds, not even if you happened to be a six-year-old child genius. Although, he considered with remembered glee, the fact that he and a few InterNex buddies had played havoc with some government satellites’ programming had certainly done the trick. The only problem was that now, thirteen years later, no one still paid much attention to him.

A loud outburst from Doctor Leigh, her distinctively-edged voice snarling like a whole pit of lions, sparked a new squabble and soon all three were well and gone in frenzied discussion. There were two good points to this . . . we’ll be done here and Tim’ll be very well rested for tonight. He nearly threw up his hands, listening half-heartedly to the argument thundering on the other side of the table, mentally girding his loins before wading listlessly into the fray.

Keeping an eye on Lucas on the way home had proved to be easier than Tim had expected. Right now, his young lover trudged slowly in his footsteps, dragging himself down the hall toward his . . . their . . . apartment. After watching Lucas fumble the key for the third time, Tim tenderly took the key from him and opened the door himself. By the time he’d finished steeping cups of hot tea for both of them, Lucas had dozed off, his head pillowed on one forearm, his golden hair spread out over the kitchen table.

Chuckling, Tim quietly opened the sofabed and carefully lifted, cradling his exhausted lover in his arms like a sleeping child. After removing the teen’s clothing, he settled Lucas in the bed and drew the covers over his softly snoring form. After all, he needs to rest and not catch cold. Can’t have it be said I’m not taking good care of him. Watching Lucas reminded him of just how young the boy looked when asleep, and, not for the first time, Tim felt like a cradle robber.

Also, not for the first time, Tim thanked God for sending Lucas to save his spirit and soothe his soul.

After several minutes, O’Neill returned to the small kitchen and finished the sweet tea, savoring the spicy-sweet taste that Lucas liked so much, full of jasmine and chamomile peppered with hints of cinnamon, orange, and amaretto. Oddly enough, their was a tin of black pepper tea in the pantry as well; Lucas had told him that he’d developed a taste for the stuff while at Stanford University, as that peculiar blend was only available in a small shop located near Stinson Beach.

Washing the dishes took no time at all, even with the brightly-colored tea set that Lucas loved, no matter how strange it looked. I’ve never seen china with little legs wearing dark blue mary-janes. Bizarre. Or, as Lucas would insist, the word is ‘eccentric’, and he bought them in London. British humor, I suppose. Still, it makes for a nifty centerpiece, if nothing else. And Lucas loves it, which is enough for me. Setting the delicate china aside on the racks to dry, Tim checked whether the door was locked, bolted, and chained. Confirming their safety became almost a ritual during their first weekend together.

Lucas’ safety meant everything.

More than life.

More than Heaven Eternal.

Satisfied, Tim hurried to the sofabed, undressed, and settled down in the comforting warmth to sleep with his beloved angel. His sleep was restful, although brief - which was no real shock, seeing how he’d slept the larger part of the day away - so the older man found himself resigned to finding his own entertainment. Unfortunately, that decision did not allow him the option of waking up his young and beautiful lover for some mutual fun. Lucas needed the sleep too badly. While usually not one to wander around unclothed, Tim found himself perfectly comfortable padding around the small apartment in the nude. Luck remained on his side, however, as the bookcase, with its haphazardly stuffed stacks of mixed fiction and non-fiction, caught Tim’s eye and called his name. Never one to refuse a summons from printed matter of any kind, Tim abandoned himself to the pursuit of knowledge.

The sky-gods busily engaged in painting their canvas in shades of violet, rose, and blue when Lucas slowly began to awake from his respite. Blearily blinking his eyes free of sleep-sand, his blond hair tousled and sticking up every-which-way on his head, the teenager looked more like a small child than he ever had in the past. Tim could tell that his lover’s memory was no help as it was too sleep-clouded to be of much use, but that was just fine. Tim didn’t plan for him to be thinking in any event.

At least it gave Lucas good motivation to wake up.

“It lives,” Tim grinned sympathetically.

At the sound of the voice, Lucas turned his head and smiled in a way that sent his lover’s blood pressure soaring several hundred points. Tim could see every emotion on Lucas’ face, and right now the young man’s features had ‘confusion’ written all over them. It’s not every day you wake up with no clothes on and wonder exactly when it happened. Get used to it, Lucas-love. I plan for it to happen frequently, although I would rather you be awake while I’m undressing you like the gift from God you are.

“Barely,” Lucas said, his expression now faintly dazed.

“I hope so,” the lieutenant continued as if the young man had not spoken, “because I don’t do this to dead people.” Tim rolled over and covered the teenager’s mouth with his own, fondling the boy’s tongue with his own.

“That’s distinctly comforting,” Lucas retorted, retreating a tiny bit, an impish smile teasing the edges of his lips. The more experienced young man pulled back slightly, allowing their lips to brush together before flicking his tongue through, feinting as to dart inside Tim’s mouth but pulling away, almost but not quite completing the kiss. Lucas then immediately returned the kiss in full, with interest, demanding more with tiny gasps, seeking to draw out their souls and join them forever. Their hands roamed freely, tracing patterns on each other’s bodies. Lucas broke the kiss, groaning aloud in timbres Tim recognized as regret and frustration. “Those damned people today gave me a headache.”

“I’ll have to do something about that,” the brunet determined. “Roll over.” After the blond lay stretched out on his stomach, Tim went to work, gently massaging each muscle group from shoulders to thighs. Strong hands stroked and rolled the soft tan flesh, pressing in and rubbing, breaking down barriers within the tormented body, replenishing the energy supply.

Tim loved giving his adorable lover a massage, knowing his skill fanned the flames of Lucas’s need, sparking every sensitive nerve ending afire. Lucas moaned, and his lover knew the massage had enraptured the younger man, driving him insane with sensual energy, overloading his senses with ylang-ylang oil. He could feel doors opening inside his charge, singing a song of joy, a song of freedom. Aware of the heat filling the room, aware of his growing erection and observant of his beloved’s own need - not to mention the erection probably drilling a hole in the mattress by now - Tim wondered how fast he should move ahead with his seduction plan.

Not unsurprisingly, Lucas made the first move, getting their speeding train back on track. “They tortured me, you know.”

“Who? Those scientists?”

“No,” Lucas grinned, the impish smile again lighting up his features. Tim wondered what his lover had to say that would provoke such a reaction. The words next spoken were not the ones he expected to hear. “Captain Bridger and Wendy.”

Tim’s hands stilled, and Lucas shifted to face him, his expression serious. “They kept asking me questions and wearing me down, it was horrible.” The brunet watched, hiding his own amusement, as the blond teenager mocked a shudder and wiped at imaginary tears, clearly enjoying the game. And what a game it is, the game of life. Love is a reward like no other, a boon for surviving heartbreak and pain and miserable solitude. “Then, without warning, they changed the subject, and they just broke me.” Tim saw the wistful look, and showed himself more than willing to play, having understood the game from its first minutes. “I can show you what it was like,” Lucas softly intimated in his most innocent tone, peering up at Tim from behind a fringe of golden hair.

Breathing hard with anticipation, the lieutenant nodded. Lucas bent and began kissing along Tim’s belly, sliding downward, licking along his thighs, first one and then the other, his fingers tracing secret messages on his lover’s skin. Exploring every inch, Lucas licked his way along the inner thigh, from the kneecap toward the groin until he was very nearly touching Tim’s aching cock. Torture, absolute torture, but a pain that feels so blissful, so celestial, so indescribingly delicious you never want your suffering to end. I never want this moment to end. With a wicked look, the blond teen teased once at the straining shaft with his tongue and immediately moved away, turning his attention to a small scar on his lieutenant’s thigh.

Groaning his disappointment, Tim writhed underneath him, but Lucas would not be moved. Several more times, Lucas drifted closer and closer to Tim’s erection, its head weeping with need, but every time, his golden tormenter would retreat, nuzzling somewhere else, kissing here, caressing there, sucking here, but never where Tim wanted Lucas’ wonderful mouth.

Giving a final rasping lick to a spot on Tim’s hip, the blond pulled away with an evil grin on his face. “See how terrible it was?”

“Yeah,” the brunet moaned. Feeling blue eyes boring into his own, Tim registered the dangerous expression on his lover’s face, knowing the time had come for serious lovemaking. No activity existed which he liked more than the opportunity to properly worship his young lover, and the chance to do so could not be ignored.

Not even for chocolate.

Although a chocolate-flavored Lucas would be just begging for a righteous and lengthy session of loving. Tim licked his own lips at the image presented in his mind, and stored the fantasy away for later when they could explore it in more depth.

“Want to end the torture and confess?” Lucas accompanied the question with a knowing look, casting his eyes, dark with arousal, and his lover could feel them like a physical caress over his body.

Tim sighed in relief, and compliantly rolled over on his back. Lucas followed his every movement, so that the couple wound up sprawled across the bed, the older man laying nearly atop his partner, their bodies pressing together in ways which excited their nerves all the more, sparking the flames in their shared hearts. Wasting no time, teasing fingernails ran lightly down his hardness, sending waves of arousal through Tim, causing the older man’s breathing to quicken in time with his favorite’s own hunger. Delicately repeating his earlier kiss, the blond teenager used his tongue to caress the weeping head, almost but not quite taking it wholly in his mouth.

The sight and sensation of Lucas’ wet tongue flicking close to the tiny opening, encircling it and squeezing as much pre-come as he was able, flooded Tim with a hungry need, wanting to pull the young man close and do some torture of his own. He moaned Lucas’ name vaguely, trying to keep himself sane in the grip of excruciating ecstasy that spread in ripples though his soul. “Mi pequenito, mi angelito de oro,” he breathed, running his hands through the golden hair bent over his groin, struggling to resist the urge to thrust deep inside that hot mouth.

Releasing the head tenderly after a final kiss, Lucas sat up, fixing a lustful gaze on the older man. Smoothly wiggling his way atop the lieutenant, the young man lay there for a few moments, and Tim savored the feel of their two cocks rubbing against each other, the delightful friction tearing through their veins, knowing his delightful lover was experiencing a similar ecstasy. As his lover’s weight shifted further atop him, straddling his hips, centering himself, he moaned again, louder, pouring his heart and soul into the emotion. Leaning close to share a kiss, Lucas whispered, “And now for something completely different . . . .”

Setting his knees in the bed, Lucas lifted his body high, and Tim could feel the damp head of his weeping cock pressing against that secret sacred place. The teenager pushed backwards and lowered himself, moaning in his exhilaration, shouting his hungry desire to the heights of heaven itself, seeking the raging fires that dwelt within his soul. “I am my beloved’s, and his desire is toward me . . . .”**

Bound by the benediction, the brunet vaguely recognized the fragment of sacred scripture, silently agreeing with its appropriateness to this moment, but his brain refused to function at the higher levels required to establish its origins. Watching his lover’s face change from satiric anticipation to rocketing exhilaration, Tim felt his burning erection ease firmly into the hot wet channel, arching his back with a hiss, trying to get as much of himself inside as possible, trying to get closer to the furnace surrounding his cock. “Este calor,” he gasped, barely able to get the words out of his mouth. Panting a steady descant to the younger man’s cries, Tim thrust harder as Lucas rocked up and down, back and forth, creating the sweet music recognized as part of nature’s orchestra.

Tim’s heart hammered faster, his veins bewailing the need to slow down, but he could not. Burned by every flush of blood through his body, illuminating his eyes with an eternal flame, he could feel his lover’s pounding pulse meeting his own in matching rhythms of love. His lover clamped his knees tighter around his lover’s hips, and Tim sought to spread the bonfire from his own heart to his lover’s soul. Their hearts and souls joined from the first moment in each other’s arms, so a weaving could only interlink their spirits for all eternity. Suddenly, Lucas leaned forward, thrusting his own organ into the firm belly underneath him. Swept to the brink of a crescendo by waves of passion, Tim groaned before exchanging kisses, exchanging pieces of souls and memories and emotion, sharing hearts interwoven before God in all her forms.

Helpless with desire and desperate with need, Tim arched his back again, sinking as deep within that addictively sweet heat as his body would allow. Lucas gasped, clearly struggling to catch enough oxygen to speak, striving to express his love in words. Words could no longer express what Tim believed about their love because the words had not yet been created. Only a lover with the imagination befitting a genius held any hope of achieving such an exploit. Surely, between the two of them, Tim retained no doubts that writing a dictionary involving several volumes would take little time to fulfill successfully. Gently stroking his creative lover’s neglected erection in time with his own thrusts, Tim thrilled to watch Lucas forget all attempts at coherent language.

With a final thrust, the lieutenant screamed his climax, and fought to bury himself deep within the welcoming body in a wild frenzy of motion. Lucas howled through his own release barely a few moments later, and Tim relished the sudden hot surge splashing over his abdomen, burning as it went, loving this man who made him so deliriously happy. As Tim drifted back to a fervor-hazed reality, Lucas collapsed atop his lover, exhausted, their sweat-slicked flesh creating yet more heat.

Seeing that his lover hadn’t hit his zenith, Tim kissed Lucas awake before rearranging their positions, settling the younger man against the pillows. Kissing his way down Lucas’ chest to his belly, the older man’s hand fondled the blond’s weeping cock, laving it lovingly before taking it in his mouth and sucking gently. Moaning, the teenager lost control almost immediately, thrusting up only a few times before finally climaxing. Tim had expected it, and was ready when the swollen member pulsed out their love into his mouth. He carefully licked away any fluid that remained, before wiping them both down with a sheet, which was crumpled up and thrown to the floor.

Taking a drowsy Lucas in his arms, Tim cradled the younger man and tried to ease his passage into sleep. “Sleep, querido, sleep,” he soothed. “Je t’aime davantage que la vie elle-meme.” Tim’s heart swelled, thinking of how profoundly his life had changed over the past two months, how wonderfully everything and everyone around him had become somehow better. Air smelled sweeter, food tasted better, and sounds were more clear, their every nuances somehow more distinct. Somehow, somewhere, between then and now, he knew Lucas had become a part of his life, for keeps, and there was no going back. “Mon ange cheri, tu es mon monde, mon coeur, ma meme ame.” Tim tenderly kissed the golden locks atop his beautiful angel’s head. “Ne me laissez jamais.”

Although Lucas’ breathing had calmed into a steady rhythm, Tim wasn’t certain that he was sleeping. Perhaps a little song would push him over that ledge and into the arms of the dream lord. Pleased with the thought, the dark-haired lieutenant began to sing quietly in a light sweet tenor, clear and perfectly on key. “On the day that you were born, the angels got together . . . and decided to create a dream come true . . . so they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold, and starlight in your eyes of blue.” His dark eyes shining with adoration, Tim gazed thoughtfully down at his slumbering lover as he sang the final lines to the chorus. “That is why . . . all the girls in town, follow you, all around . . . just like me, they long to be . . . close to you . . . .” With a final worshipful kiss, Tim allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

The next morning, both men were awakened by a call on the vidphone. It came as no surprise that their captain needed them back on board the boat ASAP. He’d already arranged to postpone any other discussions for another time, whenever the opportunity next arose.

Apparently, marine wildlife researchers aboard the deep-sea submarine Atlantis had just completed a year-long survey of a large section of the Pacific Basin. Since most of their finds were completely new to the scientific world, they desired any and all information they could grasp in preparing their report. Indeed, many of the new lifeforms hadn’t even been classified yet. They wanted Darwin’s input, and, unfortunately, as the expert on the vocorder, which made the dolphin’s communication possible, Lucas’ presence was requested.

Showering and dressing hurriedly, the couple shared a quick breakfast before packing up their kits for the trip, preparing for the ride for the shuttle, waiting uncaringly at the UEO docking area. Pausing a moment, they kissed deeply, each seeking to draw in a piece of the other to take with them. Then, without a word, Tim O’Neill and Lucas Wolenczak walked out into a cold and unconcerned world, leaving behind the sanctity and the security and the completeness in their home that love shared.

Just a few hours ago, UEO Headquarters confirmed the disappearance of her flagship, seaQuest II DSV. Skippered by Captain Nathan Hale Bridger, the state-of-the-art submarine was headed to her next assignment when she suddenly changed course and abruptly vanished from all sensors.

No trace of either the vessel or her crew of 465 has yet been found, but Secretary General McGath remains hopeful, saying that he “has no information on what might have caused the seaQuest’s disappearance and a full investigation into the matter is underway.” The search for wreckage and survivors continues at the sub’s last reported location, and rescue personnel will persist as long as possible.

End newsflash transmission.

** Song of Solomon 7:10.

Don't forget to feed the Muses!

Back to the Adult Page

© 2000 evermore4@verizon.net