A centar later, Starbuck lay in the darkness wondering why he allowed Apollo to torture him like this. Sleeping on the modular seat, for Sagan's sake, only a few metrons away from Apollo! Actually, it was rather comfortable, and Apollo had covered him with a blanket, just as though he were Boxey, or one of his friends sleeping over. And the pillow. It was Apollo's pillow, and Starbuck inhaled its scent greedily. What would Apollo do if Starbuck came into his room and curled up in bed with him? He played all the possible scenarios in his head, skimming over the ones that ended up with him in the Life Center with black eyes and broken ribs.
The next thing he knew, there was a massive weight on his chest and he couldn't breathe. That, and he needed to use the turboflush.
"Uncle Starbuck! Dad says you're making breakfast!"
Starbuck groaned. "In a centon, kiddo. Let me wake up first." Starbuck closed his eyes.
"Wake up now!" Boxey insisted. Starbuck's eyes flew open as Boxey's knee caused a dangerous tidal wave.
"Boxey, how many times do I have to tell you not to bounce?" Apollo's voice held that parental warning tone.
Starbuck lifted the offending child off of his bladder and stumbled into the turbowashroom. When he returned, he noticed that Boxey was already dressed, and Apollo - Apollo was partially in his uniform. He hadn't put his tunic on yet. Apollo had a wonderfully sculpted chest, especially since they'd been working out at the martial arts training center that had been set up as part of what they called the New Academy.
"Boxey, get out the mix for Uncle Starbuck - and the red bowl and spoon." Apollo paused. "Starbuck, you awake?"
Uh-oh, he'd been caught staring. Hopefully it just looked like the unfocused stare of a sleepy person. But…Apollo was smiling at him. Starbuck felt like he'd woken up with a fond lover, except that they hadn't done anything. "Sort of, Pol. Hey, it looks like you grew two more hairs on your chest. There must be at least twenty by now."
It was an ongoing joke with them - how little chest hair either of them had, compared to Jolly, Boomer, Giles or especially Rex, the Man-Beast. Back at the Academy, Starbuck had laid claim to two very acceptable hairs - at least until they had been yanked out during a Triad match.
"Very funny." Apollo sounded grumpy. "Boxey will be sure to count every one, now that you've mentioned it."
Starbuck chuckled and measured out the mix and the water for disc-cakes, handing the spoon to Boxey to do the honor of stirring. "You're just jealous 'cause I now have a fairly respectable little patch, and you still don't." He heated the pan over the small cooking surface, testing the temperature with little sprinkles of water. Ila had shown him how to do that.
"How respectable can it be when it's blond?" Apollo taunted, "And when it took over thirty yahrens to grow? Boxey, give Uncle Starbuck the bowl and sit down." If Boxey stirred the bowl any more it was going to spin off into another star system.
"Are we having disc-cakes shaped like the Star of Kobol, like Grandpa makes them?" Boxey asked expectantly.
Apollo and Starbuck exchanged horrified glances. Starbuck took it upon himself to answer.
"I'm not very religious, Boxey. I like to do experiments with my disc-cakes. Pour them in the pan and see what they end up looking like." Starbuck flipped one of the finished ones onto a plate. "See, this one looks kind of like Muffit's head."
A centar later, the two Warriors collapsed into chairs in the Duty Office and just stared at each other for a centon. They both started speaking at once.
"Thank you for making a morning with Boxey bearable," Apollo said.
"How can you go through this every morning?" Starbuck demanded. "I'd rather fight Cylons!"
They both laughed. Apollo leaned forward and wiped a small trickle of syrup from Starbuck's chin. He desperately wanted to lick it off, but neither of them was ready for that. However, if Apollo's plan worked the way he hoped it would, they'd be doing a lot more than licking syrup off of chins.
"It's a phase he's going through, according to the information on child development that I found on the computer. It isn't unusual for children who have lost a parent, or suffered some other major trauma to try to prevent these things from happening again. In Boxey's case, he's made up an elaborate 'Lucky Goodbye Ritual', and Lords forbid that we skip any part of it. The real problem is that he keeps adding things to it, so that it takes longer and longer each morning."
Starbuck took a gulp of the kaffe that he had brought from Apollo's quarters. Oddly enough, Apollo had asked Starbuck to make a mug for him, too - and he rarely drank the stuff. "So, you have to give him your insignia pin, ruffle his hair, rub noses, promise that nothing bad is going to happen, kiss his head, link fingers, lift him up and turn him upside down, then swing him onto his feet, pat his butt, say 'Goodbye, son, be good!' and off he goes? You have to do this every day?"
Apollo nodded. "Unless Athena takes him to Instructional Period. And you forgot a few steps in the ritual." He sipped at his kaffe and wrinkled his nose. "If it weren't for the stim properties this stuff has, I'd never touch it!"
"And this ritual began when?"
"Maybe two sectars ago, after we destroyed that last base star. Boxey overheard some idiot saying we probably wouldn't make it back."
"You did tell him that pilots always talk the most pessimistic line, didn't you? That we do it out of - of some superstition that if we speak the worst, it won't happen? How many times have you said about me, 'He's probably dead'? I know I've said it my share of times about you - except that once you were dead." Starbuck's tone changed abruptly with those words, becoming almost accusatory. "Seems like I need a 'Lucky Goodbye Ritual' of my own to make sure you come back alive."
"If it makes you feel better, Starbuck," Apollo said soothingly. "Now, you take care of any outstanding business here, while I read these reports. Then, I'm going to teach you the rules of Pinochle."
Starbuck's eyes narrowed. "What about the supply inventory for Blue Squadron?"
"We'll leave it for Boomer and Greenbean," Apollo said dismissively, his eyes already scanning the report printouts.
Starbuck resisted the urge to lay a hand on his captain's forehead to check for fever. He punched up the latest list of Duty Office reports and requests. "You're the captain. You get to explain why the inventory wasn't done."
Starbuck tried to pretend that he'd never heard of meld or trump or marriages or runs while Apollo painstakingly explained every rule and contingency of the game of Pinochle. He liked to hear Apollo's voice, and, also, he wanted to make sure that the rules were pretty similar to the ones that Chameleon had explained to him last night. Apollo hadn't asked him where else he'd been besides the Orphan Ship, so he hadn't told him.
"So, this Pinochle is supposed to end my run of luck with cards?" Starbuck attempted to shuffle the rectangular cards and sprayed them onto the floor. He scowled at the offending cards before bending to pick them up.
"Uh, yes," Apollo said, holding back a snicker. "The idea is that you won't be able to cheat at dealing, since you weren't born with a Pinochle deck in your hands. And, since much of the game involves strategy and teamwork, your luck and gambling skills should be offset. That is Boomer's idea, anyway."
As though he had heard his name mentioned, Boomer stuck his head into the Duty Office. In one glance, he took in what was going on. "Captain, may I have a word with you?"
"Sure, Boomer." Apollo stepped out into the corridor with the dark-skinned lieutenant. They walked about ten metrons away from the Duty Office so as not to be overheard. Even so, they held their conversation in a whisper.
"Are you crazy?" Boomer hissed. Apollo lifted an eyebrow. "You weren't supposed to teach him how to play Pinochle - not until all of us learned!"
"What's the difference? The game is new to all of us - it doesn't seem fair that he should be the last to learn," Apollo pointed out reasonably.
"And when did that attack of conscience hit? After you found out that you were going to have to be his partner?"
"What?" Apollo was confused. "I chose to be Starbuck's partner. Do you mean -?"
"You got it, buddy. No one else wanted to be his partner, because he's going down."
Apollo smiled serenely. "And when does the official Tournament begin?"
"Two sectons from now on Third Day. Are you coming to the OC tonight?"
"Wouldn't miss it." He clapped Boomer on the shoulder. "See you then, Boom-Boom."
Apollo returned to the Duty Office to find Starbuck just staring at the wall, a rather lost expression on his face.
"What's wrong, Starbuck?" Apollo asked, immediately concerned.
The blond lieutenant gave a little start. "Nothing, just thinking about something you said last night."
Apollo slid into his chair and began to deal a hypothetical hand of Pinochle. "Was it bad?"
"I thought so. I thought it was pretty sad." Starbuck began to pick up his cards, even though Apollo had told him that it wasn't considered polite to pick them up until all had been dealt. Since it was a practice hand with only two players and two dummy hands, and there were so darn many cards, he decided to be rude.
"Do you want to elaborate on that?"
Starbuck shook his head. "Not yet."
A few minutes later they decided that playing Pinochle with only two people was impossible, except for the most rudimentary of demonstrations. It made much more sense, they discovered, to just deal out various hands, and practice determining meld and bidding strategies.
"In general, you're supposed to be able to count on your partner for at least 10 points of meld," Apollo explained. "In reality, though, it looks like your partner could have a lot less than that." He examined his hand ruefully. "In this one, I only have 4 points - two marriages in non-trump suits."
"These suits are confusing," Starbuck complained, as he dealt another hand. "I understand the diamond and the heart, but why is the black upside-down heart called a 'spade'? And that little triple-lobed thing - why would that be called a 'club'?"
"It must have meant something on Kobol." Apollo pushed his cards over to Starbuck. "Now what the heck would you bid on this one, Bucko? Assuming that your bid would come before mine so that you'd be trying to tell me what kind of hand you have."
"That would be tough," Starbuck agreed, scanning the cards and calculating the meld points. "It's got aces in all four suits, and kings and jacks, too, but only one marriage. No real strong suit. Too bad the kings and jacks together don't count."
"Count as what?" Apollo asked. Was Starbuck suggesting what he thought he might be suggesting? That a king and a jack of the same suit should be considered a marriage?
"As two points," Starbuck said. "It sure would help this hand. Not that this is a bad hand the way it is, just hard to bid. If it were just the aces, I'd say 45 points. But that would imply only 10 meld, and I'd want to tell my partner that I have more than that, right? This hand has a total of 24 points in meld , which is the same points as marriages in all suits - what's that called?"
"A Roundhouse," Apollo supplied. He was still slightly in shock that Starbuck had suggested that kings and jacks count as a marriage. Get over it, he told himself. This is just cards. He didn't mean anything by it.
"If I had a Roundhouse, I'd bid 52, to tell my partner that I had 24 points. This hand has 24 points, so I guess I'd bid 52. Does that make sense? When I lay out my meld, my partner - that would be you - wouldn't be all that upset to find out that I had aces instead of a bunch of useless queens." Blue eyes glanced up to seek approval. "These are only bidding conventions that we're learning, right? We can deviate from them if we see fit?"
Apollo nodded. "I suppose, as long as the bids make some kind of sense - and you can make the bid if you have to."
"And if your team doesn't take the bid, you try to prevent the other team from making whatever they bid. This doesn't seem all that difficult, Apollo." Starbuck stretched and pulled a fumarello from his sleeve. "Once you learn the rules, and the bidding conventions, and the strange cards, and the point counts. It's odd that only aces, tens and kings count for points after you've taken tricks." He lit the fumarello.
"And two points for taking the last trick," Apollo reminded. He sighed with annoyance. "Bucko, whose uniform are you wearing?"
"Yours. You lent it to me this morning to save time, don't you remember? I just had to rustle up some lieutenant's pins -" He trailed off and followed Apollo's pointing finger with his eyes. "Oh!" The finger was pointing at the lit fumarello. "Frack! I forgot. I'm sorry, Apollo! I'll get your uniform cleaned."
"The one I'm wearing is going to smell just as bad," Apollo grumbled. "Stuck in this little office with you and that charred twig!"
"The door's open," Starbuck mentioned in self-defense. "Look, how about if I go to the Officer's Mess, smoke this, and then bring us back some food."
Apollo nodded briefly. "And get me another kaffe."
As soon as Starbuck had gone, Boomer, Jolly and Giles crammed themselves into the Duty Office. They were all talking at once.
"Attention!" Apollo snapped. Sheesh! Jolly's stomach was resting on the desk. "At ease. Can you try one at a time, gentlemen?"
"How is he?" Giles asked eagerly.
For the craziest micron, Apollo wondered what Giles was asking about. He started to laugh, and then discovered that it was difficult to stop. Especially when he saw the expression on Boomer's face.
Giles glanced at Boomer. "Did I say something wrong?"
Jolly just frowned, understanding that something had gone over his head.
Apollo cleared his throat. "Sorry. I thought you were making a joke, Giles. Let's try that again."
Giles grinned, catching on finally. "Well, how is he?" Boomer just shook his head.
"I don't remember, but he makes great disc-cakes." Apollo replied, chuckling.
"Now how is he going to be at Pinochle?" Boomer asked patiently.
"Probably not too bad," Apollo answered honestly.
"Oh, frack!" Boomer, Jolly and Giles said in unison.
"I guess we'll all have to go into this Tournament on our own merit," Apollo said calmly. "And that's how it should be. Don't get me wrong. I've lost at least as many cubits to Starbuck as you guys have - or lost them playing one of his Pyramid strategies. But I thought the idea of introducing Pinochle was to put all of us on more equal footing. If I find that it's become vengeful or vindictive, then I want no part of it, and I'll go out of my way to stop it - is that clear?"
Jolly and Boomer nodded.
"He must make some disc-cakes!" Giles said. "I understand, Captain," he added. Then he winked.
"Dismissed." Apollo was now thoroughly flustered. "Boomer, can you stay a centon?" He closed the door after Boomer came in, and gestured for him to have a seat.
Boomer sat, and then just waited, his dark features inscrutable.
"Boomer, tell me what's going on - please?" Apollo felt like he'd dropped through a wormhole in space, and was now in some dimension where alien people were living in the skins of his friends.
"I thought maybe you were in a better position to know that than I am," Boomer countered.
"Me? You're the one who started this Pinochle felgercarb!"
Boomer drew a deep breath. "Not the Pinochle. The other thing."
Apollo held up his hands. "What 'other thing'?"
"Lords of Kobol, you really are in need of a clue!" Boomer dropped his head onto the desk. "The 'other thing' is Starbuck, you fool!"
"You mean the joke about the disc-cakes?" Apollo knew it wasn't that. Or not entirely that.
"That, and the fact that he's wearing one of your uniforms!" Boomer's voice was muffled by the desk he was talking into. He lifted his head. "Didn't you think anyone would notice that Starbuck's uniform was suddenly well-pressed? I just want to know one thing."
"What, Boomer?"
"Was this going on back at the Academy?"
Apollo leaned forward in his chair. "Boomer, you don't seriously think - no, it wasn't going on at the Academy. It's not going on now! All Blue Squadron knows is that Starbuck spent the night in my quarters - and they can't even imagine that maybe he just needed a place to crash so that he wouldn't be penalized for returning to the BOQ late?"
"I can imagine quite a bit, Apollo," Boomer said candidly. "And that wouldn't be the first thing to spring to my mind either - not knowing how close you two are."
"Well, it's the truth!" Apollo asserted angrily. "We were talking and drinking ambrosa, and it got to be late. Starbuck slept on my modular seat in the front room, and he made disc-cakes for Boxey for breakfast. That's all." He could feel himself shaking, hear himself denying - when all the while he'd been hoping….
Boomer gave Apollo a searching stare. "Frack!" He shook his head again. "I'm sorry, Apollo. I just thought that since Bucko has finally sworn off women, that maybe…"
"He's sworn off women? He told you that?" Apollo couldn't have been more shocked than if Boomer had said that the Cylons were throwing Adama a novayahren party.
"Not in so many words, but, yes. You know his history as well as I do, Apollo. Because of Siress Natanya and her cronies, Bucko and women are like oil and water. Just never really mix. But he apparently thought it was important to keep up appearances. Or maybe it was a game to him."
"Are you the only one who knows this, Boomer?"
"I guess I am, since obviously you don't. But most of Blue knew that he occasionally had male lovers. And if you'd pay attention around here, Apollo, you'd know that Starbuck isn't the only one in the squadron who's been known to frequent the Equus Club on the Rising Star."
"Who else?" Apollo asked curiously. He'd heard vague rumors of what went on at the Equus Club, and somehow had assumed that only the dregs of humanity would congregate in such places.
Boomer's brown eyes bored into him. "Why do you want to know? Before a few centons ago, you didn't know and didn't care. And I'm telling you right now, if you come down on Starbuck because of this, I'm not going to support you. Bucko has had little enough to be happy about in his life, and I don't care who he makes love to. Most of the guys in Blue feel the same way. That's not to say that they don't want to win their cubits back, mind you."
"Well." Apollo couldn't think of a single sensible thing to say. "Does Cassie know about - um, his decision?"
Boomer shrugged. "I would guess so. I think she knew from the beginning, and just hoped she could somehow be enough for him. That's my personal opinion."
"What other personal opinions do you have?" Apollo wondered what else was clear to the world-wise Boomer that wasn't clear to him.
"None that I'd like to share with you at this time," Boomer sighed. "Well, I take that back. I do have one opinion - don't get involved with Sheba. Bad move, Captain."
Apollo nodded. "I'd figured that one out on my own, but thanks. Um, is Starbuck currently seeing anyone?"
Boomer pretended to think for a micron. "I thought he spent the night with you, Apollo," he replied innocently. "But I wouldn't want to give you any ideas."
Apollo swatted at his old friend across the desk. "Boomer, you may have just turned my life into a living hell! Giles winked at me - winked!"
Boomer chuckled. "Maybe someday you'll thank me. Am I dismissed?"
"You are - most thoroughly."
Starbuck came in with a tray as soon as Boomer left. He had been waiting out in the corridor.
"What was all that about?" He set the tray on the desk; obviously he had been nibbling at his part of the meal.
Apollo wasn't about to tell the truth in this instance. He needed time to assimilate this new information, time to let his pounding heart slow to a more normal rhythm, time to rework his plan. Time to think about some disturbing things that he really didn't want to think about. "Bucko, they're out for blood," he said. "Your blood, primarily, but mine because I'm your partner."
"Is that all?" Unconcerned, Starbuck took a bite of a dry, stick-like thing. There were three of them wedged between the protein du jour and the mushies on his plate.
"What is this?" Apollo picked one of the sticks off of his own plate. "Are you sure this is edible, Starbuck?"
"No, but if we wait a while and I don't drop dead, then I guess it's safe for you to eat."
Apollo took a bite. It was so dry, it sucked the moisture out of his mouth even as it turned into a crumbly mass. It tasted like sawdust and metal filings combined. "Why would I want to live if you're dead?" he said, but it came out through the desiccated crumbs as, "Wawo diwan tuliff yorded?"
"Care to repeat that?" Starbuck asked after taking a swallow of his kaffe.
Apollo downed a swig of kaffe also. "No, it loses something in the translation," he said.
Apollo watched his wingman during the next few centars as they dealt hand after hand of pinochle, discussing and refining bidding conventions and possible methods of play. He was the same Starbuck that Apollo had always known, but Boomer's revelation had shaken him. He had thought to gradually convince Starbuck that enriching their friendship with sex would be a good thing, convenient and comfortable for both of them. After much contemplation, he had convinced himself that the idea had merit. Now he wasn't so sure. He had been laboring under the assumption that Starbuck's sexual experience was confined exclusively to women. Apollo had decided that when the time seemed right, he would tell his wingman about his two brief relationships with other men, and see if perhaps Starbuck seemed interested. Now it seemed clear that Starbuck possessed far more experience than Apollo when it came to same-sex relationships.
But what kind of relationships had he had? Certainly not the almost-innocent infatuations that Apollo had experienced. No, trust Starbuck to reduce sex to its most basic level, down and dirty; primal acts performed by people who didn't even know each others' names. That was the kind of sex that was available at the Equus Club, if the rumors were true. Apollo hated feeling naïve and sheltered; at the Academy, he had always felt that way around Boomer, and most especially around Starbuck. How ridiculous of him to even think that he'd done something that Starbuck hadn't done first! And, of course, Starbuck would have done things that Apollo couldn't even think about.
Starbuck's fingers snapped in front of his nose. "Wake up, Captain!"
"Sorry - just thinking."
"Well, I thought you might be interested to know that Green is back from patrol and they encountered a few Cylons." Starbuck was gazing intently at the monitor. "Nine kills, no casualties, starboard engine damage to Lestor's viper. Dietra will be here in a few centons."
"Thanks, Starbuck."
The lieutenant nodded curtly, and went back to analyzing his latest hand. When Dietra stopped by to speak with Apollo, Starbuck slipped out of the Duty Office and went to the launch bay. Silver Spar had just launched, so all was relatively quiet, with just a few techs tinkering here and there. He chose a shadowy spot beside the transport exit and lit a fumarello. 'Well, Bucko,' he thought, 'You've certainly put yourself in a precarious position this time!' He hadn't realized until he'd gone to the Officer's Mess to get their mid-cycle meal that Blue Squadron seemed inordinately interested in the fact that Starbuck had spent Sleep Period in Apollo's quarters. Greenbean made a point of sidling up to him in line, and commented on the lack of wrinkles in his uniform.
"Too bad the Captain won't let you wear his pins, too."
Starbuck laughed and jokingly complained about how his back felt after sleeping on Apollo's modular seat. Greenbean's long face took on a doleful expression.
"Oh, that's too bad, Starbuck."
"It's nothing serious, Greenbean. I just need to stretch a little is all."
Now he was beginning to realize that Greenbean hadn't been referring to his back. He sighed. This had all started when he'd been seen at the Equus Club by another Blue Squadron pilot - one who couldn't keep his mouth shut. So much for anonymous sex! He hoped that Apollo never learned of his furtive excursions into the lower levels of the Rising Star. He knew that his friend, raised according to rigid rules of morality and integrity, would be thoroughly disgusted if he knew what went on at the Equus Club. Although, to give Apollo some credit, it wouldn't be the physical acts that repelled him most; it would be the fact that such intimacies were shared by total strangers. Starbuck puffed on his fumarello, savoring the rich, loamy flavor. If truth were told, wild sex with total strangers didn't quite hold the appeal for him that it once had. Once it had meant freedom to experience unlimited pleasures, unbound by expectations or consequences. It was a novelty after his yahrens of near-servitude with Siress Natanya. Now it was merely a convenient means to obtain unencumbered release. It wasn't what he really wanted, of course, but he couldn't - and perhaps shouldn't - have what he wanted.
When he returned to the Duty Office, Dietra was gone, and Apollo gave him that glower that silently chided him for smoking. Starbuck ignored it; Apollo had been giving him that look since the Academy.
"Dietra is really a very competent squadron leader," Apollo commented, laying out one of the practice hands. "Unfortunately, she suspects there's a base ship not too far behind us." He sighed. "It must have been hiding behind some planet that we passed by. I'd hate to think that there's a Cylon-controlled solar system ahead of us."
"Me either." Starbuck looked over the array of cards. "If I had that hand, and it was my turn to bid, I'd pass."
Apollo nodded. "What if you'd dealt, and no one else bid, and you got stuck with it - what would you call trump?"
"Well, you have to have a marriage in the suit you call trump, unless you get stuck with the bid, right? So I'd go with diamonds."
"You get four extra points of meld if you call spades trump, because of the marriage," Apollo reminded.
"But there's three aces of diamonds, and seven diamonds total, but only one ace of spades and six spades total. I'd go for the diamonds. During play, we'd pick up the four points."
Apollo smiled. "I think you're right, Bucko! " He swept up the cards. "I think we're going to do just fine together as Pinochle partners, if we don't screw up our bids."
"At least we won't get bruised and banged up playing Pinochle, the way we do playing Triad."
The Pinochle games in the OC began with two practice hands, then opponents were chosen, and friendly, but real, competition ensued. Apollo and Starbuck were up against Jolly and Giles for the first game; Boomer and Greenbean were playing Brie and Dietra; Cassie and Dr. Paye were against Athena and Omega; and Ross and Rex were playing Lestor and Sorrell. Scoring was kept on datapads at each table, and other than that, only mugs of ale or grog were allowed. Giles loudly warned onlookers not to make any comments about the games that were taking place, then pointedly announced to his own table that cheating would not be tolerated.
"You think I'm going to cheat?" Starbuck asked in mock-offense. "I've only just learned this game! Any mistakes I make will be purely out of ignorance of the rules.
"No excuse. You know what happens if a renege is called. You lose your meld and the opponents get 50 points." Giles could be so annoying at times.
"At the Tournament, we're going to have a Tournament Director to read all the rules, and make sure that everyone follows them," Jolly said helpfully.
"I wonder who that'll be," Apollo murmured. "Since each table determines whether or not we play for cubits, if it's agreeable to everyone, we can just play for points, or rounds of drinks for the winners."
"Frack that!" Starbuck said. "If something's worth doing, it's worth doing well; if something is worth doing well, then it's worth betting on. Therefore, if something's worth doing, it's worth betting on." He smiled. "Starbuck's Transitive Property of Gambling."
"If it involves Starbuck, and my cubits, just say no. That's Apollo's Negative Corollary of Self-Preservation."
Jolly looked uncomfortable. "How about a compromise? Say each of us puts five cubits in the pot per hand."
Once that was settled, and game established at 250 points, with the bidder-out rule in effect, two tosses of a cubit determined that Jolly got first deal.
Starbuck waited politely until all of the cards were dealt, then picked up his twenty cards and began to arrange them by suit and rank. Ace, ten, king, queen, jack. A run in clubs, with six cards, and a run in spades with seven. Five diamonds and two hearts. Queens around, which was 6 points, plus 15 for either of the runs, plus 4 points for Pinochle, which was the Jack of Diamonds and the Queen of Spades. That was 25, plus an extra marriage in trump, if he chose spades; that would be 29, plus 2 points each for the marriages in clubs and diamonds. That was 33. No, wait, he had two Pinochles. They were playing straight rules, so the second one would only count for 4 points. So, he had 37 meld - nice. Unless he heard a bid of over 70, he wasn't going to give this one up. He had a good feeling about this hand.
Apollo, who was sitting to Jolly's left, passed. Frack! That meant that Apollo had felgercarb for meld - less than 10 points. The green eyes flashed an apology.
"Sixty-five," Giles said, looking smug.
Starbuck had no idea whether Jolly was going to bid or not, but he'd been given the signal that his partner had a respectable hand, probably with over 10 points of meld. He looked at his cards again. Not a terribly strong playing hand, but with the short suit in hearts, he'd be trumping early. He had to bid high enough to make Jolly let him have the bid. "Seventy-five."
Apollo swallowed audibly.
"It's all yours," Jolly told Starbuck.
"Spades are trump," Starbuck said, laying down his run, followed by the rest of his meld cards. Apollo seemed somewhat relieved, he thought. Not that his expression changed any, and he made no other gesture; that was against the rules. But Starbuck knew Apollo so well that he felt his relief, and it reassured him. Apollo's meld, however, was not so reassuring; he had 6 points - jacks around and a marriage in clubs. That gave them a total of 43 points in meld, which meant that during play they had to pick up 32 points to make the bid of 75.
Jolly laid down a marriage in trump for 4 points, and Giles melded jacks around, a Pinochle, and two marriages in hearts. That gave the opponents a total of 16 points in meld. Starbuck easily deduced that Giles had the hearts that were almost absent in his own hand. But what did Apollo have? His meld wasn't really indicative of strength in any particular suit.
Starbuck tossed out his ace of spades; according to the rules, one must always lead with a card of the trump suit. Jolly played a queen, Apollo played a jack, and Giles threw a jack onto the pile. Apollo had played a jack! In the final point count of the tricks taken, jacks and queens counted for exactly nothing, so it was customary to help your partner by playing a point card - a king or a ten, or even an ace. Apollo had played a jack! Was this a conscious betrayal, an honest mistake, or was it something else? Starbuck couldn't believe that Apollo would deliberately throw him to the daggits, and he was anything but stupid. It had to be a signal.
He played his remaining ace, the ace of clubs, next. Jolly and Giles, predictably, played jacks, but this time Apollo gave him a king. Even so, this wasn't looking too promising; they'd only picked up 3 points in two tricks. They had 29 points to go, and Starbuck was out of aces. His plan was to pull trump from Jolly and Giles, so that he could win the point cards later in the hand. With that in mind, Starbuck led a queen of spades. Jolly covered her with a king, and Apollo - wonderful, clever Apollo - played an ace of trump. Giles, pursing his lips, played a queen.
Starbuck leaned back in his chair, comfortable with the fact that Apollo had taken the lead. He watched his captain fondly as he fanned out his cards. As usual, Apollo's longish dark hair curled at his collar, and bits of it tended to stick out at odd angles, no matter how much he combed it. Starbuck discovered that he was smiling - and then he smiled even more when Apollo threw out an ace of hearts. Was he imagining that the green eyes smoldered beneath the dark lashes, flirting with him? Starbuck gave him his ten. Lords of Kobol, this card game felt like foreplay! And Apollo was most definitely in command. He played another ace of hearts, followed by two aces of diamonds. They had picked up a total of 15 points.
Then Apollo became even more ruthless. He tossed out an ace of spades, clearly intending to pull trump from Jolly and Giles, so that it couldn't be used against them. Giles threw off a queen of hearts; his supply of trump had already been exhausted. Starbuck gave Apollo a king, as did Jolly.
"You know, Captain, you should really let us take at least one trick!" Jolly whined.
"You'll have your chance when I'm done," Apollo said, calmly laying down a ten of trump. Starbuck's heart gave a little panicked beat; there was one more ace of spades left, and he didn't have it in his hand. Giles played a king of clubs, as he had no spades left. Not sure what was coming, and thinking that Jolly must have the remaining ace, Starbuck played a jack. Jolly didn't have the ace; with obvious irritation, he spun a ten across the table. Since Apollo's ten had been played first, he raked in the trick, and tossed out a queen of clubs.
"Now's your chance, boys," Apollo said. Giles leapt on the trick with an ace of clubs, Starbuck surrendered a meaningless jack, and Jolly played a queen. Starbuck took that to mean that Jolly had an ace of clubs that he was saving.
Apollo and Starbuck lost two tricks in clubs, then Giles led an ace of hearts. Starbuck trumped it with a ten of spades, and won a king from Jolly. Not having any obviously winning cards left, he decided to lead a queen of diamonds. Jolly played the ace and took the trick. He took the next two tricks, as well, making 6 points in the process. Starbuck was beginning to feel a bit nervous, until Apollo won the next trick by trumping diamonds. He was almost certain, by now, that he and Apollo had all of the remaining trump; if they hadn't, Apollo would have continued to pull it from their opponents. After all, Apollo had seen all of the spades in Starbuck's hand, since he'd melded all of them.
Starbuck loved the way Apollo's mind worked; he led a queen of hearts right into Starbuck's waiting king of trump. It was all over after that. Starbuck led a club; Apollo trumped. Apollo led a heart; Starbuck trumped. Starbuck led his remaining card - a club; Apollo played the ace of spades with a flourish. Jolly and Giles groaned.
"Why don't you count your points, since you have fewer cards than we do," Starbuck suggested sweetly. He didn't mean to gloat, really he didn't. He knew that they had made 40 points, for a total of 83 for the hand. They'd only needed 75 to make Starbuck's bid.
"You can thank me later," Apollo said dryly. "Whatever were you thinking, Bucko? That was a pretty high bid for having 37 meld and knowing that I passed, for Sagan's sake! If I hadn't had all those spades, we'd have gone set!"
"Ten for us," Jolly announced sadly.
"See? We had room to spare, Apollo! Just relax!"
Apollo shook his head, but he was grinning as he gathered up the cards for his deal.
Several centars and many hands of Pinochle later, Starbuck and Apollo had won against every team except Athena and Omega, who had had a phenomenal run of luck with the cards. They had also imbibed a good deal of grog and were quite pleased with themselves and each other. By unspoken agreement, they headed for Apollo's quarters, verbally dissecting every hand, applauding their victories and analyzing their few defeats.
Apollo set the automatic processor to make kaffe while Starbuck rummaged through the cabinets for clean mugs.
"We have to fly patrol in less than ten centars," Apollo said, unnecessarily. "I'm so - exhilarated that I won't be able to sleep. Thank the Lords Boxey is with Dad! Why are we drinking kaffe, Starbuck? It's going to keep us awake."
Starbuck shrugged. "I'm drinking kaffe - I thought you were having tea. How many grogs did I have anyway?"
"I lost count of the grogs," Apollo admitted. "I was concentrating on counting cards, and keeping track of what exactly had been played. We could probably figure it out if we add up what we know we won, and subtract the amount we have left. The remainder divided by three will be the number of grogs we drank. Between us. I think. But you drank more than me - you always do."
"I do not!" Starbuck objected. He sat down at the small table where they always sat. "You said yourself that my vices were wearing thin. You can't - can't have it both ways!" He noted in a detached sort of way that speaking had become rather difficult.
"Well, I think we each had about - maybe nine pints over about four centars. Enough that we should both take some analgesics before we go to bed, so we don't have to go on patrol with hangovers."
Starbuck smiled. He liked the sound of that: 'before we go to bed'. Gods, if he weren't so afraid of scaring Apollo and ruining their friendship, he'd be dragging his captain across the table for a long and thoroughly wet kiss. With tongue. He imagined what he might say. 'Hey, Pol, can I borrow your tongue for a centon or two? I'll give it back - promise. I just want to play with it for a while.' He chuckled to himself.
"What's so funny?" Apollo was looking at him with an odd expression. Starbuck thought that his normally-so-sober friend might actually be drunk. Not just slightly buzzed, but quite fuddled. He was still speaking clearly, if slowly, but he had that tell-tale, glassy-eyed stare.
"Nothing," Starbuck lied. "I was just thinking about the look on Boomer's face when you called a renege on Bean. I saw him play that heart after he'd already starting trumping hearts, but I just couldn't bring myself to call it. They were losing so badly anyway. You're a cruel man, Apollo."
Apollo groaned. "Lords, I didn't even think! You're right - I should have let them save face. That was spiteful and petty of me. I'll have to apologize to them before patrol tomorrow."
"You're doing it again, Pol - feeling bad about yourself. We discussed this a long time ago, remember? Disproportionate guilt. You said you were going to stop it."
"And you said you were going to stop smoking," Apollo reminded not-so-gently.
"No I didn't. You told me that I was going to stop smoking. I never agreed to it. I only agreed to cut down on smoking around you." Starbuck stood up, rather unsteadily, to pour the kaffe.
"Can we not argue for a while, Bucko?" Apollo said plaintively. "I'm worried about you. I'm worried about me. I guess I'm just worried about things in general, and some in particular. What did I say last night that you thought was sad?"
Ah well, in for a cubit, in for twenty. "You said that you thought sex was overrated." Starbuck sighed. "I thought that was awfully sad, Apollo. And even worse, that you think it's your fault."
Apollo shrugged. "I know it's my fault. Part of it is the way I was brought up - with the Kobolian idea that sexual urges are to be controlled, not indulged. The rest of it is me. I think I have unrealistic expectations. And I never expected sex to be - so untidy."
Starbuck fought to hold back laughter. "Untidy. You think it's untidy. Oh, Lords, I can't believe you, Apollo!"
"I know it's ridiculous," Apollo defended himself. "I know that it's not an antiseptic activity, but I'm just too accustomed to being neat and orderly, and other people are used to me that way. Not only that, but people like me that way. I wouldn't want to offend anyone by -"
"Did you offend Serina?" If the answer was yes, Starbuck was going to find a way to kill her all over again.
"I was very careful not to." Apollo sighed. "Serina's first husband - Boxey's father - was rough with her. Actually he tended to get drunk and beat her, then force himself on her." He raked his fingers through his hair, which was already disheveled. "She killed him, Star. It was an accident - she was just trying to defend herself and Boxey, but she killed him."
"You don't need to tell me this, Pol," Starbuck said softly. "I understand."
"No you don't," Apollo said, shaking his head. "The issue isn't what Serina did to her first husband. What I'm trying to say is that she needed me to be gentle and considerate. All my lovers have needed me to be gentle and considerate - and kind of antiseptic. I think I'd like, for once, not to have to worry so much about that." Now was the time to mention it if he was going to at all. He even thought he might be drunk enough to do it. "I've heard that there's a place on the Rising Star that might be just what I'm looking for. The Equus Club, I think it's called."
Starbuck roused himself from his own near-stupor. "No, Pol, you don't want to go to a place like that - trust me!"
"Why not? It's just plain, unadorned sex, right? No questions, no promises." Apollo realized suddenly that he hadn't been this drunk in yahrens. Maybe being drunk was a good thing.
"No women, Pol." Starbuck said. "There are no women allowed at the Equus Club."
To Starbuck's utter shock, Apollo shrugged. "That's all right." Then he laughed at his wingman's frozen expression of disbelief. "What's the matter, Bucko? You can't imagine that naïve, morally-upright Apollo might have sucked a cock or two?"
For long microns, Starbuck did not reply. All he could think was: 'Why not mine?' Then finally, he asked, "Whose?"
It wasn't the response Apollo had expected, and the tone was rather grumpy for Starbuck, but because the alcohol in his system seemed to make it easier to talk, he didn't mind answering. "Remember Krantar, the big, kind-of-dumb-but-cute Virgon that we met in our last yahren at the Academy? In Political Sciences class?"
Starbuck nodded. "I thought you were after his friend - the obnoxious brunette."
"V'lennie? No! She only went for women. Krantar liked me, for some reason. I liked him too - he was honest, cheerful, nice to look at - and he offered sex. Starbuck, I hadn't even been with a woman at that point. I thought it might be - exciting and kind of comfortable to make love with another man. I mean, you know where all the important bits are. Don't have to go hunting for them, like with a woman."
Starbuck was having difficulty laughing with his mouth full of kaffe. He swallowed as quickly as possible. "Knowing where the important bits are is a reason to go to bed with someone?" he wheezed.
"I guess not," Apollo admitted. "But it helps when you're shy. I was shy back then - frack, I'm still shy!"
All Starbuck could think was that Apollo had felt 'comfortable' with stupid-but-cute Krantar, but not with him. "And after Krantar? You liked it enough to try it again, apparently."
"Several yahrens later, when I was stationed on the Tyche. His name was Rhad and he was the head of my flight crew." Apollo dipped a finger in his kaffe and drew a wet, winding pattern on the table. If it had some significance, it was known only to him; Starbuck couldn't decipher it.
"I thought you said that you had an affair with a woman while you were on the Tyche," Starbuck challenged.
"I did." Apollo smiled. "Hard to believe, isn't it? Two lovers within the space of a yahren - how scandalous!"
"For you it is." Starbuck didn't intend to be unkind; it was just a fact. "So sex with both of them wasn't very good? Didn't meet your expectations?"
"Not really. It was nice, though."
"What exactly was the problem?" Starbuck was struggling to understand. He knew that there were some people who just didn't have much of a libido; could Apollo be one of them? He recalled the way Apollo had writhed against him during that one intoxicated encounter. No, Apollo's passion might be buried deep, but it was there.
"I had a Arian opal once." Obviously, Apollo wasn't answering the question Starbuck had asked. Or if he was, he was doing it in a circuitous fashion. "It was the most beautiful thing in my boyhood collection of miscellaneous articles. I knew it was beautiful, but I never realized how unique it was until I lost it. My mother bought me ten more - Arian opals are cheap, after all. They were all very pretty, but it wasn't the same."
"That's sad, Apollo." Starbuck couldn't remember what they had been talking about. His eyes felt dry and gritty. Staring intently at cards for centars could do that.
"Take me to the Equus Club, Star."
Starbuck almost choked on his kaffe. "I will do no such thing!" he sputtered. "It's - it's filthy, crude, impersonal and sordid. You don't belong in a place like that."
The green eyes speared him, fixed him with a surprisingly steady gaze. "And you do?"
"Who told you that I've been there?" Starbuck wanted to cringe. Apollo must be so revolted by him now, even though he probably couldn't imagine the depraved reality of a place where you used, and were used by strangers. Even Starbuck felt like he needed an extra-long turboshower after a few centars at the Equus Club.
"A reliable source told me, Bucko." Apollo wasn't sounding so drunk any more. "I want to know why you think you belong in a place like that, and I don't!"
"Apollo, you're more civilized than I am." And, Starbuck wanted to add, you have a family who would be shocked if you went there, and a reputation that would be ruined.
"I don't want to be civilized," Apollo stated firmly. "I'm tired of it. Let's go to the Equus Club after patrol tomorrow."
Starbuck lurched to his feet. "No!" He steadied himself with a hand against the wall. "If you want to go there, you'll have to go by yourself! I can't watch you - debase yourself. Not after - " He let out a broken sigh. "Pol, tell me what you want - you don't need to go to a place like the Equus Club. You know me - I can be discreet." He hadn't wanted it to be like this, but he'd do anything to keep Apollo happy and safe.
The green eyes were looking up at him curiously. "Starbuck, are you - are you offering me your services?" The curiosity turned to concern. "You told me many yahrens ago that you would never do that kind of thing again. Not after Siress Natanya. You would offer me your services to keep me from going to the Equus Club? Isn't that a bit extreme?"
"Maybe." Starbuck sounded angry. "But it's not the same as Siress Natanya and her friends, Apollo. That's what I've been trying to explain to you. She trained me to service women. Don't you get it? Sex with women has always been work - and you know how lazy I am. Whenever I've wanted to play - just have sex for pleasure - it's always been with men." He folded his arms across his chest. "So it wouldn't be any great hardship."
"I see," Apollo nodded seriously. "Thanks." He wanted to laugh; Lords, if he'd known that all he had to do was threaten to go on a sexual rampage, he would have done so long before now! Starbuck was watching him suspiciously; Apollo could see the wary orphan in his eyes. He wanted to wrap his arms around that needy child, and tell him he'd never be alone again, but that child now lived in a man's body, and had a man's pride. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience you, though. Obviously, if you'd considered me a suitable - um, playmate - you would have let me know by now, right? That little incident at the Academy was just a mistake we made because we were drunk." He drew another 'S' on the table, waiting for Starbuck to take the bait. "You know, all of Blue thinks we're sleeping together anyway."
"I know," Starbuck said irritably. "Greenbean said something to me in the Officer's Mess."
"So much for being discreet, Bucko. I think your cover's been blown. So to speak. And Giles winked at me." Apollo pushed back his chair and stood. "What do you think we ought to do about that?"
Starbuck took a deep breath; he'd never been so afraid in his life. He counted how many steps it would take to get him to the door. He wasn't sure whether Apollo's quirky mood was a deliberate tease, or entirely attributable to alcohol. "All I know is that you are not setting foot inside the Equus Club unless it's over my dead body! For Sagan's sake, Pol, why do you think that sex with men you've never met would be better than what I could give you? Why?" All the yahrens of anguished yearning were encompassed in that one 'Why'.
"I could ask you the same thing." Apollo faced his wingman squarely. "But I suppose that your tastes are more sophisticated than what I could accommodate. I don't have the kind of experience that you do." He felt as though he were bidding with a hand that was good, but not quite good enough. "I'm willing to learn, Star. I've wanted you forever, I think. And it's a sad thing when the most memorable sex you've ever had was with your best friend, drunk, after a party, and he doesn't want you to remember it."
"Felgercarb," Starbuck said almost tenderly. " I was afraid to let you remember it, Pol What if you didn't want to be my friend after that? It would've killed me. What would I have had left? Nothing! I'm flattered that you want me now, but I have nothing to offer you - except experience gained from rather lurid encounters. As so many women have told me - I'm a bad bargain. And we're both drunk again, Pol." He turned toward the door.
Apollo grabbed his wingman by the scruff of the neck and spun him around. "I'm not drunk enough to let you go, Bucko! Come here, you." He pulled Starbuck close, locking him within a firm embrace, catching a glimpse of wide blue eyes before he tilted his head and swooped in for a kiss.
The first thing that Apollo noticed was that Starbuck's resistance lasted about a nanomicron. But even though the tension went out of his body, it took Apollo a few microns of gentle persuasion to make his wingman's soft lips open to a deeper and more ardent communion. And then - ah, gods, the taste was all Starbuck, and so intoxicating that Apollo thought he'd never need to drink grog or ambrosa again. He let his fingers sink into the silky blond hair, cradling his friend's head to hold him at a perfect angle for kissing, even while he took time out to nibble and lick at the full lower lip and the sensitive corners of Starbuck's mouth.
A tiny whimper escaped from Starbuck's throat, a whimper that unnerved Apollo enough to make him draw back. Had he misread that hungry expression, deliberately seeing only what he wanted to see? Maybe Starbuck was only willing to service him - and maybe that didn't include kissing.
"I'm sorry, Star," he whispered. "I didn't mean to offend - "
His words were cut off by Starbuck's mouth recapturing his. This time it was clear that Starbuck was taking the lead; his tongue swept into Apollo's mouth like a conquering horde, and his arms finally returned the embrace that, until now, had been one-sided. There was no choice but to surrender to the mad delirium of Starbuck's kiss. 'Lords,' Apollo thought hazily, 'this must be what passion is - what the classical poets were writing about.' He could feel his wingman's hips pressed up against his, the rock-hard erection unmistakable. Had it really been that big back at the Academy? He couldn't recall. He had heard the rumors, of course, that Starbuck had the biggest cock in the Fleet, and had dismissed it as unsubstantiated gossip. Now he suspected it might just be true. The thought was rather intimidating. Luckily, it was a fleeting thought; Starbuck's tongue entwined with his, and Apollo was treated to a sexy little groan.
Starbuck lifted his head. He had to breathe, but he really wanted to just keep on kissing Apollo, discovering more of his captain's spicy-sweet flavor and reveling in this incomprehensible reality. He hoped that this wasn't just another inebriated encounter that would torment him for another twelve yahrens. After all, could there be a good outcome to this? Maybe he should just leave Apollo to his sexual explorations, and keep himself out of it. He dropped his arms to his sides, and took a step back.
But the clear green eyes belonging to his best friend in all the universe were gazing at him with a mixture of desire and amusement, combined with something else that he didn't quite recognize. Whatever it was, Starbuck was lost. Reason, fear, survival instincts - they meant nothing at this particular micron.
"Come to bed, Bucko," Apollo invited softly, his tone casually warm. He took Starbuck's hand and drew him along, as though it was something he'd done before, and expected to do again.
And Starbuck went with him, as he always did.
Once inside the sleep room, Apollo tumbled his wingman onto the bed with a triumphant whoop, pinning him beneath his body, and dropping aimless little kisses all over his face. Then he rose up on his elbows to take stock of the effect he was having. Starbuck was smiling indulgently, still looking a bit stunned.
"Are you happy to be here with me, Star?" Apollo asked. "Please tell me the truth. I don't want you just going along with this out of some misguided impression that you owe it to me or something." He slid his tongue along Starbuck's jaw, then to the quirked-up corner of his mouth. "On the other hand, I'm willing to beg. I would have begged before if I'd thought it would do any good."
Starbuck began to chuckle. "I've spent centars over the past secton trying to find out who you planned to beg sex from! Just out of curiosity, of course. I never thought it was me." He reached up to push Apollo's long, dark hair out of his eyes. "Apollo, you never have to beg me for anything. Especially not this." He pulled Apollo's head down and kissed him with a fervent thoroughness that left no doubt in Apollo's mind that Starbuck wanted him.
Starbuck wriggled out from under Apollo when they came up for air. He stood and pulled off his tunic, then started on his pants and boots. Apollo just lay back and watched, adoring, as Starbuck's golden body was gradually revealed. Oh, Lords, the rumors had to be true! He reached out to pull his friend down again, but Starbuck leapt out of his range.
"Oh no, Pol! I want you naked this time. And," he added imperiously, "you're going to do everything I say." His grin was pure wickedness.
"Oh, am I?" Apollo raised an eyebrow. "I'm your captain, remember." He tossed his tunic over the top of a dresser and sat down to remove his boots.
"We're not on duty," Starbuck reminded. "Besides, I thought you wanted lessons in depravity."
Apollo heaved a boot in Starbuck's direction. "I know some things," he retorted. "And you'll have plenty of time to corrupt me."
"Will I?" Starbuck glanced toward the wall chrono. "We have patrol in nine centars."
"And what do you have planned after that?" Apollo asked mildly. He stood, now completely naked, and stalked Starbuck to the other side of the bed. Once he cornered his wingmate with his knees backed up against the bed, it was an easy matter to topple him over and pin him down again.
And then the feel of warm flesh against warm flesh overwhelmed them both. Starbuck groaned as Apollo's mouth once again claimed his, and he let his hands roam over his captain's back, settling them finally on his firm buttocks. It was like activating turbo engines. Apollo's hips began to grind furiously against Starbuck's, their cocks trapped between two sets of taut abs. Ah, lovely friction! Within microns, they were crying out into each other's mouths, frenzied with the release of passions held in check for too long.
Starbuck kept his eyes closed, gasping for air in the aftermath, savoring the closeness and the liquid warmth that glued them together. All too soon it would be over. He felt Apollo's gasps against his face, and then what could only be Apollo's nose pressed tip to tip with his.
"Hey, Bucko."
Starbuck opened his eyes. Apollo was so close it seemed he had only one large, green eye in the middle of his forehead. He smiled. "So, what are you doing after patrol?" he asked. "If you don't have anything planned, why don't you have dinner with me and Boxey, and then stay with me after he goes to bed."
Starbuck couldn't remember if he had anything planned or not. Probably not. "All right, but I'll have to leave before Boxey wakes up. My goal is to corrupt you, not Boxey." He laughed a bit self-consciously. "And a fine job I'm doing of it, too!" he lamented. "We haven't progressed much since the last time."
"Sure we have." Apollo kissed his new lover briefly. "We managed to take our clothes off. That's progress." He lifted himself off Starbuck and grabbed a towel from the nightstand. "At least you don't have to steal my tunic for fear of offending my virgin sensibilities." Apollo swiped himself dry, then attended to Starbuck.
"I'm sorry about the - um, untidiness," Starbuck said.
Apollo patted his wingman's semi-erect cock with the towel. "I'm sure we can figure out a few ways to get around that." He abandoned the towel and slid down to lay his head on Starbuck's muscular thigh, inhaling his new lover's unique masculine scent. He extended his tongue until the tip just grazed the tip of Starbuck's cock. It gave a tiny leap of response, and its owner let out a puff of laughter. Apollo decided to test the reaction by licking a swath up the underside of his lover's cock. He was rewarded with a full-throated moan, and watched, amazed, as Starbuck's organ visibly lengthened.
"Pol - "
"Would you look at that!" Apollo exclaimed. "It's growing! Maybe I should help it along." He gave it another swipe with his tongue. It tasted wonderful; salty, slightly sweet, and wholly Starbuck.
"Pol - you don't need to do that for me," Starbuck said gently.
Apollo lifted himself on one elbow. "The frack I don't! " He bent down and swirled his tongue around the plump head. "You taste good, Star, and you're so beautiful that I absolutely do need to do this! If not for you, then for me - so just relax and enjoy it."
Starbuck sighed and let Apollo have his way. He didn't deserve such blatant worship, but looking down at the familiar dark head, half-resting on his thigh, the long eyelashes swept down onto those gorgeous high cheekbones, and the cheeks themselves, hollowed slightly with sucking on him - oh, gods, he'd never seen anything so beautiful in all his life! Apollo made a little surprised noise as Starbuck's cock suddenly grew to its full length, and his left hand curled around the base. When he began a steady, rhythmic slide, with an occasional pause for teasing forays of his tongue, Starbuck began to believe that he really had done this before - at least more than the once or twice that he'd suspected. He relaxed against the pillows and threaded his fingers through the soft, dark hair. He made no attempt to control or guide Apollo's ministrations; he didn't need to. All he needed was to watch, and feel, and thank the Lords. And moan. And moan. And moan.
"Apollo!" He cried when he felt that he was getting close to climax. "Almost down and locked - ah, Lords!" He shouted Apollo's name once more, before spurting his seed into his lover's throat. The sensation of pleasure and relief was so great that Starbuck felt a prickle at the backs of his eyes. He prayed to the Lords, whom he wasn't sure he believed in, that he wouldn't shed any unmanly tears. Instead he found himself laughing; he couldn't have said why. Apollo was laughing too.
"What was that? Down and locked, Star? Like you're landing a Viper?" Apollo licked the last crystalline drop of semen from his wingman's cock, and continued to chuckle. "Was that supposed to be a warning?"
"Well, yes! I'm not a total Boray, Pol! What if you didn't want me to come in your mouth? Most women -"
"I'm not a woman, Star, in case you hadn't noticed." Apollo laughed at his own dry humor, and deposited a loud, smacking kiss on the inside of Starbuck's thigh.
"Good thing, too, for what I have in mind." Starbuck pulled Apollo up beside him, and kissed him with fervent gratitude. "I want you inside me, Pol." He heard Apollo's breath catch in his throat. "If you want to. If you don't - "
"Gods, yes, I want to!" Apollo breathed. "I've dreamed of it for yahrens, wondering what it would be like. But - " He bit his lip nervously. "I've never done it - or had it done to me."
"Why not?" Starbuck asked. Then he remembered that Apollo had been very sheltered all his life. He'd been so shy and virginal those first yahrens at the Academy that Starbuck had considered it a challenge to provide him with a bit of education in the form of graphic boasting. In subsequent yahrens, Apollo had unbent enough to join in BOQ banter and innuendo, but Starbuck had always wondered if Apollo had understood any of it at an experiential level.
"Why not?" Apollo repeated with a shrug. "I guess maybe because it always seemed like a very intimate thing to do with another person. And I could never really imagine myself doing it with anyone but you." As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized that Starbuck wouldn't take them for the compliment they were; he would only feel tainted by his own promiscuity. "Lucky for me that you know what you're doing. I don't want to hurt you."
Starbuck smiled; for now, the shadows were buried deep. "You won't hurt me. Far from it! Do you have anything we can use as lube?"
Apollo tapped his chin, pretending to consider. "If I say yes, will you be angry with me for making plans to seduce you?" He leaned over to open the drawer of the nightstand, and he pulled out a little jar of white cream. "It's good for chapped lips and rough elbows, too. According to the Medical Database, it's better than the stuff in the tube, although not as easy to clean up."
"How - untidy." Starbuck clicked his tongue behind his teeth, chiding. He sniffed at the cream; it had almost no scent, but the elusive scent it had was somehow quite erotic. He dipped out a fingerful and spread it onto his palms.
"You'll never let me forget that I said that, will you? About sex being untidy."
"No." Starbuck smoothed the cream onto Apollo's cock, making him hiss with pleasure. "And if you annoy me, I'll tell all of Blue Squadron." He flashed a classic Starbuck grin.
"You wouldn't dare. After two sleep cycles spent in my quarters, I could say anything about you and they'd believe it."
"There isn't much you could say about me that hasn't been said before." Starbuck lay back against the pillows and made room for Apollo between his legs. He had considered turning over for this first time, but he wanted to see Apollo's face as they made love. Because, for him, that's what this was going to be. And he still wasn't certain that there was ever going to be a second time for them. Apollo seemed to think that this was the beginning of something that would be continued - but what? And how long had Apollo been planning this?
"I'm sure I could think of something." Apollo knelt over him, caging him between hands and knees before bending down to fuse their mouths together. Normally, Starbuck would have shifted away from such a vulnerable position, but with Apollo he felt no need to. He just gave himself up to his captain's kiss, and made a noise of protest when Apollo sat back on his heels. Then Apollo's cream-covered fingers were slipping over and into his anus, stretching the taut ring of muscle with gentle insistence. Starbuck shuddered violently when Apollo's finger grazed his prostate.
"Please, Pol! Now!" he cried, caught up in an intense wave of need.
The initial entry was a little awkward and uncomfortable, but they got through it with a few whispered instructions and some muffled laughter at their clumsiness. Once they were joined, they just stared at each other for a long centon, astounded at how right it felt.
Apollo smiled down at Starbuck. "Oh, sweet Lords of Kobol, Star! Why did it take us so long?" He kissed each of Starbuck's ankles, which were loosely draped over his shoulders.
"Because, as Boxey said once - some people are just slow." Starbuck wiggled his hips a bit. "Slow would be nice - for a while."