"I can safely say that I've never been so mortified by your behavior in my entire life, Starbuck!" Apollo hissed as they left the instruction rooms. "Mistress Lamia is going to make Boxey suffer for what you did!"
"She'd better not," Starbuck replied confidently. "What is she going to say? 'Strike Captain Apollo repelled my advances, and his vulgar lover, Lieutenant Starbuck, gave me anatomically correct Gingerbread Men'?"
"That would be a start, Bucko."
"You aren't very observant, Pol. As we left, she was eating the evidence! You don't think she would want the children to see those Gingerbread Men, do you? Besides, those things were darn tasty! All she'll be able to say is that you repelled her advances, and that we kept the pastry bag."
"Don't forget the interchangeable tips," Apollo added, only slightly mollified.
"All right, so we owe her a few cubits. I'll take care of it, Pol."
Apollo slanted a curious look at his wingman. "What, exactly, is your fascination with that pastry bag?"
Starbuck grinned wickedly, his blond hair falling over his eyes. "You'll see, Pol. You'll see." Ever since he had caught a glimpse of that pastry bag, he had been exploring the erotic possibilities in his mind.
When they approached the corridor to Apollo's quarters, Starbuck gave his lover's shoulder a squeeze. "Be back in a few centons - I have to pick something up."
Apollo shrugged and keyed himself into his quarters, hoping that Starbuck was going to bring them some food. They hadn't even had breakfast, with trying to get Boxey and the Gingerbread Men safely off to Instructional Period. Boxey had had a Gingerbread Man for breakfast; some father he was! Apollo sank onto the ugly reddish-orange modular seat and nibbled on one of the spare Gingerbread Men.
He began to smile as he recalled the utter expression of horror on Mistress Lamia's face when Starbuck had presented her with the anatomically correct Gingerbread Men with their adorable little flight jackets and big, pink cocks. Only Starbuck would have the nerve to do something like that! Apollo started to laugh, and was still laughing when his wingman returned with a sack of something in his arms.
Starbuck raised an eyebrow. "Am I in the right place? What have you done with my Pol?"
That made Apollo laugh even harder. "Bucko, sometimes I forget why I love you," he gasped. "But -"
"You mean it isn't because I'm beautiful and damned good in bed?" Starbuck set his sack on the table.
"That doesn't hurt, of course, but no."
"No, what?" Starbuck began to dump things into a bowl - Athena's bowl that she had lent to them for the Gingerbread Men.
Apollo laughed again. "I'm not telling you why I love you, Bucko! First of all, your ego doesn't need any stroking, and second -"
"I have other things that would like to be stroked," Starbuck reminded him archly.
"And second, I don't hear you saying any of the disgustingly sappy things that you used to say to all those women you dated, so I don't see why I should say them to you."
Starbuck shrugged. "Be that way. I was sappy to you once, Pol, and you embarrassed me. One chance is all you get." He picked up the drill-mixer that they'd used for the Gingerbread Men, stuck it in the bowl and stood well back before turning it on. He coughed as finely-ground sugar puffed into the air.
Apollo frowned. "When were you ever sappy?" In a micron, it came to him. "Oh! After I was engaged to Serina and you told me that it would be our last flight together, the way we were?" He nodded thoughtfully. "Yup, that was pretty sappy, Starbuck. I was embarrassed by it, because it was making me all misty-eyed - I didn't mean to embarrass you too! Is that why you rejected my hug on Kobol? I had used up my one chance?"
"No!" Starbuck gave his lover a long-suffering look. "I was afraid I'd get hard, number one, and number two, Serina was glaring red like a Cylon at me over your shoulder. She was not a happy woman, Pol. She knew that I wanted you, even if you didn't."
"I did," Apollo said shortly. "In some strange way, I did. Even then. And I wanted you too." He stood and prowled around the table. "Is that sappy enough for you, Star?" He looked down at the whitish mass in the bowl. What *is* that stuff?"
"It's going to be buttercream frosting, Pol. And no, it isn't sappy enough for me." He waved a spoon at his captain. "I have gone all my life without sappiness or excessive sweetness of any kind, and now I - I have a deficiency." Although Starbuck sounded vulnerable, he smiled an evil, knowing little smile. "I'll be rectifying that soon enough." He whacked at Apollo's hand as it crept toward the bowl. "Wait until it's done! You're as bad as Boxey!"
"What's in it?"
"8 tablespoons of butter, a pound of confectioner's sugar, a teaspoon of vanilla extract and enough milk to make it creamy, but stiff enough for the pastry bag. And consumable coloring, if you like - how about green?"
"Why green?"
"To match your eyes, of course." The drill-mixer whirred some more and Apollo watched as the mixture turned a lovely shade of green. Green like the grass that used to grow on Caprica - not like the color of his eyes, exactly.
"You aren't really going to do what I think you -" Apollo's cock gave a little leap inside his pants.
"Oh yeah, I am, Pol." Starbuck began to spoon the mixture into the pastry bag. "There's plenty to decorate both of us. Bring all the interchangeable tips, and head into the bedroom, lover."
Apollo obeyed, now heavily aroused, and Starbuck followed with the pastry bag and bowl with additional frosting. Just in case they needed it. Within centons, they were naked.
"You first, Pol - lie down on your back."
"This is going to be messy, Star," he warned, ever practical. "We'll have to change the sheets."
"We'd have to do that anyway," Starbuck pointed out blithely. "I'm going to try this little star-shaped tip first." He squirted a small, green rosette into Apollo's navel. "Oh, that's so cute!" he said in a cooing, falsetto tone. He drew scalloped piping along Apollo's collarbones, put another small rosette on his chin, two large rosettes on his nipples, and some kind of leaf-pattern all along his cock and balls. Apollo was laughing at the ticklish sensation of it, but it was also very erotic to be adorned with icing, knowing that his lover was going to lick it all off.
Starbuck changed the tip on the pastry bag one more time, and pushed Apollo's legs back. "Don't struggle now, Pol, or you'll ruin my artwork!" He inserted the little metal tip into Apollo's ass, squeezed some of the icing in, and then decorated the outside with a coiled swirl. He chuckled at Apollo's incoherent and somewhat belated noises of protest. His Pol was naïve, but he didn't protest *too* much; Starbuck was having a wonderful time corrupting him. It would take him yahrens to reach Starbuck's level of decadence, and Starbuck intended to savor every centon of it.
"You are so bad, Star!" Apollo managed finally. He graced his lover with a glare of mock-anger, but decided that it wouldn't have the proper effect, being that his cock was not only monumentally erect, but festooned with vines of leafy icing.
"Can't deny it - may as well enjoy it!" Starbuck looked as though he were enjoying it. After admiring his highly-decorated captain for a few microns, Starbuck began dismantling the navel rosette with his tongue, then moved on to the piping on the collarbones. Apollo made appreciative sounds, and reached out to stroke a hand over his wingman's back.
The light touch was electrifying, and Starbuck desperately wished that Apollo could reach his cock. But this pastry bag scenario that he had engineered was for the explicit purpose of Apollo-worship; if he was lucky, the Starbuck-worship would follow. In the meantime, there were rewards.
"Mmmm, my sweet Pol!" Starbuck gasped. "This tastes so good, the icing with the flavor of your skin!" He progressed to the nipple rosettes, nibbling and sucking, then scooted down on the bed and began licking at that green, coiled swirl between his lover's buttocks.
Apollo's hips nearly leapt off the bed. He groaned. He wanted to say something - like 'Not there, Star!', but he couldn't manage it. His hands clutched at the thick, blond hair. He screamed like a girl when Starbuck's tongue delved into his frosting-filled hole, lapping and licking like a felix at cream. Starbuck kept at it until the icing was almost gone, and Apollo was writhing mindlessly, chanting his lover's name as a soft, urgent plea.
Replacing his tongue with a finger, Starbuck took a few centons to lick most of the icing off of his lover's balls, making him moan helplessly. It was lovely to know that he could make Apollo feel so good. He smiled at the frosting-laced cock that rose before him, then carefully licked a furrow in the leafy green icing along its length. The icing was really quite delectable, as was his Pol's cock. Although Starbuck had sucked a fair number of cocks over the yahrens, and had received rave reviews, he had always considered it a necessary exercise rather than a pleasure. Until Apollo. He loved to suck Apollo's cock. Maybe because it was attached to the man he loved.
"Ah, Star, why are you smiling?" Apollo's strong fingers tangled in Starbuck's silky golden hair. Massaging, gently encouraging. Impatient.
He could feel the smile around his cock? Starbuck lifted his head. "Just being sappy, Pol."
He applied himself in earnest, then, to making Apollo gasp, moan and writhe, using hands, fingers, lips, tongue and even very delicate teeth. He established a compelling rhythm that drew his lover ever closer to completion, holding him just on the edge for an interminable micron. And then, with a few loving licks, and a gentle internal gesture, Starbuck pushed him into bliss.
"Star!" Apollo cried, convulsing in his climax. He felt Starbuck's throat closing around him, draining him. He hadn't figured out yet exactly how he did that. "Ah, Star, I love you!"
Apollo pulled his lover up into his arms. Starbuck stretched out on top of him, and his tongue flicked out to catch the little icing rosette on Apollo's chin.
"I was saving that for dessert," he said smugly.
"Give me some." Apollo pulled Starbuck's head down and kissed him deeply, tasting the sweet icing and the saltiness of his own essence. "Mmmm, nice." He trailed his tongue along Starbuck's jaw and over to his earlobe. "You are so very naughty, Star. Shockingly naughty." He darted his tongue into Starbuck's ear, making his wingman shiver with lust. "But I love it. And I love you."
Apollo rolled Starbuck onto his back and leaned over him, cradling him. Seeing those blue eyes gazing up at him so trustingly never failed to bring the sappiest of emotions leaping to the fore. Smiling sweetly, he reached for the bowl of icing, and the pastry bag.
"You know, Star, I don't think green is your color," Apollo mused. He rolled out of bed, and, bowl in hand, headed toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Starbuck pouted, beginning to feel a bit neglected.
"I'll be right back - I just need to add some blue coloring."
True to his word, Apollo returned a centon later, stirring the icing in the bowl. "There, that's much better - mostly blue with just a hint of green." He scooped a little icing onto his forefinger and touched it to Starbuck's lips, smoothing the frosting onto his lover's full lower lip. "Mmmm, kissing you is always sweet, Star, but this will be a special treat." He leaned forward and slowly sucked on that pouty lower lip, then suctioned Starbuck's tongue right into his own mouth. Starbuck groaned, and Apollo felt his hand at the back of his neck, tenderly stroking the soft hairs at his nape. Kissing Starbuck was a feast even without the frosting, but with the sweetness of sugar, the richness of butter and the fragrant mellowness of vanilla, it was indescribably decadent. Apollo indulged himself shamelessly for long centons, until he felt Starbuck moving restlessly against him. He lifted his head.
"This icing is really tasty, isn't it. Star?" Apollo trailed a finger from Starbuck's lips, down his throat, his chest, his abdomen - all the way to the tip of his straining cock. Starbuck thought he was going to explode. He whimpered when Apollo turned away for a centon to fill the pastry bag with the bluish icing. He wasn't used to his captain being such a tease. As the more experienced partner, Starbuck was usually the one who did the teasing.
"Turn onto your stomach, Bucko," Apollo ordered. "I want to try something different."
Starbuck laughed, obediently turning over, though he began to wonder what Apollo had in mind. "How different, Pol?" he asked apprehensively.
"I'm not telling. That would spoil the fun, now wouldn't it?"
"Maybe it would just make me anticipate it more?" Starbuck suggested.
Apollo began squeezing dots of blue icing down his wingman's spine. "It just makes you nervous not to know what's going on, doesn't it?" He dropped a kiss on his lover's shoulder-blade. "I won't do anything you don't want - you know that, Star. Hells, I probably couldn't even *think* of much that you wouldn't like." He fashioned a big rosette on each perfect buttock.
"You probably couldn't," Starbuck agreed weakly. Apollo had pushed his legs apart, and was applying icing to the underside of his scrotum. He couldn't make out if there was a pattern to it or not. "I do like to know what's going on, Pol. You're right about that. But maybe it's because I've always been the one to do the doing, if you know what I mean."
"Yes, I do," Apollo said quietly, squirting a rope of scalloped waves from Starbuck's left inner thigh down to the back of his knee. He continued on down the calf, around the ankle and to the sole of his lover's left foot. Starbuck's toes wiggled. "I think it's time that you let me do some of the doing." He started on his wingman's right leg. "I appreciate that you have more experience than I do, and that you try to make everything easy for me. But I want you to just lie there and enjoy. Can you do that?"
Starbuck sighed. "I'd love to."
"All right, then." Apollo put tiny rosettes on each of Starbuck's toes. "I'm going to start nibbling now, and when I'm done, maybe we'll flip you over and start decorating your front. How's that?"
"Sounds like a plan," Starbuck chuckled. He thought it was rather funny that Apollo would map out a lovemaking session the way he would a mission. But then Starbuck's left little toe was engulfed in the warmth of Apollo's mouth. He'd never had his toes sucked on before, and it was surprisingly erotic. By the time Apollo made it to his left big toe, Starbuck thought that it was the most exquisite torture ever devised.
"Like that, don't you, Bucko?" Apollo purred. "Don't tell me none of your legions of lovers has ever sucked on your toes?" Apollo had told him that the lovers in Starbuck's past didn't bother him, but Starbuck knew that wasn't precisely true. Apollo could always find something to worry about: that he wasn't as good as some former lover, that he wasn't spontaneous enough, that he didn't have the stamina, that he was boring in bed. And, of course, Apollo worried that the lovers of the past wouldn't stay in the past where they belonged.
"Not a one, Pol. Only you," Starbuck gasped. It was true, and he'd had no idea what he was missing. It seemed like there was a nerve pathway directly from his toes to his groin.
Apollo chuckled happily. "Whyever not? You have cute toes, Star." He began on the right foot by licking a path along the sensitive sole, then up to the little toe.
"Ah, Lords, you're killing me!" Starbuck giggled and moaned. "I guess you're the only one who ever thought I had cute toes. I love it when you nibble, Pol. Yeah, like that!"
"Stop wriggling so much, then!" Apollo complained. "How would we explain it to Dr. Salik if you kick my teeth out?"
"You can't kick with just one toe," Starbuck pointed out amidst giggles. "And I can't stop wriggling, it feels so good! Sucking on my big toe like that is almost as good as sucking on my - Holy Frack!"
Apollo had released Starbuck's big toe with a loud 'pop', and had licked his way up the blue waves of icing on ankle and calf, pouncing on the back of his wingman's left knee, then swirling his tongue around the frothy decorations there. He had to hold Starbuck down with strategically-placed hands on his buttocks - to avoid ruining the big blue rosettes - and even that didn't keep him from thrashing about. Mmmm, those big, round rosettes certainly looked tasty.
"Pol, please! I can't - Ow! You bit my butt!"
"Sorry - wouldn't have happened if you'd kept still," Apollo said through a mouthful of blue icing.
One icy blue eye glared at Apollo from the pillow. "I can't believe you bit me!"
"Remember that fish that bit your butt when we went skinny-dipping in Lake Orion?" Apollo howled with laughter. "Oh Lords, I'll never forget that! It left a perfectly round, red mark."
"It wasn't funny! It hurt! And that damned fish kept coming back!" A half-smile appeared on Starbuck's face, partially concealed by the pillow. "Pol, you know, your mother thought you did that to me."
Apollo drew an outraged breath. "She did not!"
"I think she did," Starbuck goaded. "She asked me twice how it happened - and I know she was listening the first time."
Could it be? Apollo tried to recall what his mother had said to him. Something about being more careful with his friends, more respectful. He'd thought that she meant the skinny-dipping. He felt his cheeks growing warm. "Lords, Starbuck, maybe she *did* think that I bit you on the astrum!"
"Told you so." Starbuck lifted his hips with a sinuous motion. "Want to do it again?"
Apollo applied himself to licking his way up from his wingman's right ankle, lingering at the back of the knee. That was all it took to set Starbuck to moaning again.
It seemed an eternity to Starbuck before Apollo finally suctioned the second rosette off of his right buttock. Then, instead of perhaps slithering his way down to his balls, or even - dared he hope? - down the crack, Apollo back-tracked and carefully licked up every little dot he had placed along his lover's spine. Gods, it was too much! How much torment was he supposed to tolerate anyway? His cock was hard enough to drill a hole through the hull of the Galactica! Enough was enough! Starbuck raised himself onto hands and knees, thinking that maybe he could get a hand onto his cock before he went insane.
"Ah, perfect angle," Apollo commented. His tongue trowelled icing from the back of his lover's scrotum right up to his anus.
Starbuck quivered - waiting, hoping. Another lick, and another. Apollo had delicate sensibilities that Starbuck had never possessed. Another tentative lick, and then a quick, furtive foray into forbidden territory. Starbuck whimpered, then cried out with delight as Apollo launched an all-out assault. Ah, brave, wonderful Pol! Starbuck wasn't sure if he'd said that aloud or not. He didn't really care. He wondered if buttercream frosting had ever been used as a lubricant in the known history of mankind. There was a first time for everything.
"Pol, I need you inside me." He felt so comfortable asking for it from his best friend. There was no shame, no sense of humiliation. Just an honest desire that Apollo was more than willing to satisfy.
Starbuck heard the clang of the metal bowl. "Turn over, Star. I want to try something."
"If you try anything else, I'm going to die of terminal rapture." He rolled onto his back somewhat reluctantly.
"Patience, lieutenant," Apollo said with mock-severity. With his right hand, he grasped his lover's organ at the base, exerting enough pressure to prevent an untimely eruption. He maneuvered the pastry bag with his left hand, deftly depositing two eyes and a smiling mouth on the tip of Starbuck's cock. "There, he looks quite happy now."
Starbuck lifted himself onto his elbows to look. He rolled his eyes. "Only you, Pol!"
The green eyes flashed. "Better be only me, Bucko." He sat back on his heels, hooking his arms beneath Starbuck's knees, pulling his hips up onto his lap. He'd wanted to try this before, but had somehow become distracted. Not this time; this time he was determined. He pushed into his lover with firm gentleness, as always moved beyond words that Starbuck would yield to him this way. "Is it all right, Star?"
Starbuck found that he couldn't answer; a primordial scream of joy was building in him, starting with the toes that Apollo had so lovingly tended. To give the only answer he could, he pulled Apollo closer with his legs. The dark head bent forward, then, and the jubilance poured from Starbuck's throat in a series of wild cries as Apollo completed the circle of their joining.
It was a long while before Starbuck could make a sound, much less construct a sentence. Apollo waited quietly, well-pleased with the results of his experiment. Alas, the smile face on his lover's cock was gone; it had been rather alluring, he thought.
"I wasn't sure that would work," he said finally. "It probably wouldn't have, except for the prize-winning Starbuck - uh, measurements." Apollo poked his wingman in the stomach. "You alive there, Star?"
"No," Starbuck huffed, opening his eyes. "And I may not have legs - I can't feel any."
Apollo caught hold of his friend's feet and lightly massaged them. "They're here." He kissed each ankle. "Now that I know your feet are so sensitive, I'll have to devise ways to use that knowledge to get what I want from you."
"Huh? I always give you what you want," Starbuck protested.
"I'll have to think of more things I want, then." Apollo smiled. "Like right now." Still hard, he nudged into his lover suggestively.
"Give me a centon," Starbuck said, with an indolent, but cocky grin. "In the meantime, you can be sweet and sappy, and tell me how much you love me."
The End