Seamus Harper liked being in control. Not in the laissez faire way that his original captain, Beka Valentine, did. Certainly he wasn’t as uber-dominant as the Nietzschean, Tyr Anasazi, who could intimidate just by breathing. Nor did he take command with the ease that Dylan “What have you done to my ship” Hunt assumed. But in his own, small way, Harper liked to feel he was in charge of his own destiny.
That’s why he liked to surf so much.
He supposed that most people found it odd that a gutter rat who had clawed his way out of those slimy pits euphemistically called refugee camps ever developed an interest for the sport. Especially a gutter rat that happened to be a techno-geek, the last type of person in the universe you’d think would have
an affinity for such an elemental activity as surfing. But for Seamus, riding the waves was his own slice of
The second lesson he’d learned in his short experience was that life was as capricious as hell and any sort of control over your own circumstances was a commodity to be coveted. When he hovered at the crest of a wave for the very first time, sending his board skating across the water’s surface using purely balance and strength of will, it was the only time since his family had been wiped out by a Nietzschean raid that he felt he had any hand in his own destiny. His wave ride had only lasted a minute, but had been a life-altering experience nonetheless. From that time on, Seamus had been hooked, using whatever earnings his engineering prowess provided him to spend time on the water, learning to tame the ocean’s waves. Even as his skill grew, however, Harper never lost that sense of wonder, that while he was on his board, something as mighty and powerful as the ocean was at his command, if only for a moment or two.
A demanding thrust from beneath him brought Seamus’ attention away from the water and back to the task at hand.
His lover, Tyr Anasazi, as capricious and demanding as any ocean, looked at him with eyes half- lidded with lust. The big man thrust up sharply with his pelvis again, causing Harper to fall forward and hurriedly brace arms against the Nietzschean’s chest to keep his balance.
“Where were you, little one?” the dark man panted, seemingly content to lay still now that he had Harper’s full attention.
Nietzscheans didn’t like to share their mates, not even with said mate’s inner thoughts.
Harper supposed he couldn’t blame Tyr. After all, the man was buried balls deep in his ass, his big hands splaying the flesh of Seamus’s cheeks wide as he maneuvered for maximum penetration. The short engineer’s legs were spread wide as he straddled his bigger lover, his small stature leaving him hard pressed to keep his seat on top of Anasazi as he rode the big man’s cock for both of their pleasure. Under the circumstances, a man had a right to assume that his partner was fully involved in the experience.
Harper’s mind couldn’t help wandering, though, comparing the barely reined in power of the Nietzschean throbbing and thrusting underneath him to the strength and majesty of the sea.
Seamus took advantage of their bodies’ momentary stillness, bending forward to take a quick swipe with his tongue at Tyr’s chest. He grinned at the taste of the sweat he found pooled there.
Salty. Just like the sea.
“Harper....” The warning was growled rather than spoken.
“Just thinkin’ of surfing, big guy. Riding you ain’t that much different than ridin’ a wave.” Seamus ran his fingers up and down the ridged muscle on the darker man’s stomach. “Just gotta stay on top and surf it out until it crests.”
There was a moment of stillness from the other man and then, just like the ocean that his lover had compared him to, Tyr surged forward unpredictably. The next thing Harper knew, he was on his back, legs up and over the bigger man’s shoulder’s, the Nietzschean pounding into him like the surf hitting the beach during a hurricane.
Pinned underneath the other man’s massive form, there was nothing Seamus could do but hold on and enjoy the ride. Clutching Tyr’s forearms where the bigger man was braced above him, Harper reflected that there was something to be said for the loss of control too. Hips rutting to the cadence of Anasazi’s balls slapping against his ass, the engineer finally lost his hard-won control, biting his lip to keep silent as his orgasm ripped through him. His partner made enough noise for both of them, the metallic walls of their cabin ringing with the echos of Tyr’s triumphant cry, the man’s hips pistoning one last time into Harper’s, a savage thrust as the Nietzschean released his seed deep within his mate’s body.
Afterwards, Tyr was gentle with the characteristic,tenderness that Nietzscheans only allowed themselves to show after sex. Snuggling Seamus’ body close to his own as sleep came for them both, the big man was soon somnolent with the heaviness of satiation. Before he joined his lover in slumber, though, Harper
reflected on the lessons that he’d learned so far from life’s experiences. If the second had been that life was unpredictable, then the very first had been that love was fleeting. Whether it came from family that died while you were young, friends who tolerated you only as long as they needed something from you, or
Nietzscheans that would leave you as soon as they found a mother for their unborn children, love wasn’t going to stick around.
But damned if he didn’t ride it while it lasted.