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| [ Souls Of Discretion] by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) ukcalicoBlake/Avon. Power and egos and sex. He pinched the bridge of his nose, aware he was dwelling on this, then let out a slow breath and dropped his hand. Honestly: it was ridiculous. Still, with any luck that damned machine would have dissolved by the time the storms abated, and they could abandon this planet to its fate. Had he won? Blake had said he'd won. So, where was his prize?
He allowed himself a brief indulgence on the theme of prizes, then blinked. This, too, was getting far too easy -- to permit lazy fantasies of driving Blake harder, pressing relentlessly until he snapped and attacked him. It felt so natural, arguing with him and wanting him in equal measures, grown used to the contradictions, that he was almost content with their incendiary stalemate.
On the other hand, he certainly wasn't content with Blake's progressive habit of personal veto. Tonight was typical of the strange lure that gripped and reeled him in whenever he found someone whose heart was in the right place. The rest of their predicament tended not to matter; the heart, that was what Blake was interested in. | |
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| [ Sunrise] by blakefancier and [ Sunset] by snowgrouseBlake/Avon. Melancholy and sweet. Avon arrives at his usual time and Blake, instead of ushering him in, offers him a seat on the porch. Avon frowns but sits.
He stares out in the forest, the leaves rustle with the wind and he can hear a bird singing in the distance. He loves this silence; it fills him with a sense of contentment. He feels quiet.
"I'm dying," he whispers, then says it more loudly, "I'm dying."
He turns and Avon is sitting frozen, eyes staring blindly, hands gripping the armrests of the chair.
"I put death out of my mind when we won the war. As if I had somehow become invincible. I forgot that death comes to everyone. I--"
"Stop it. Stop it, Blake." Avon stands and walks over to him. With shaking fingers he touches Blake's mouth and traces his lips. | |
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| Living Doll by predatrixAvon/Android!Blake, Avon/Blake. Avon makes a rather extravagant sex toy. Hot and sweet. It started as a cross between an extra tech project and a joke.
The last thing we need's extra rebels running around underfoot needing to be rescued, was his first thought about the Avalon robot. On the other hand, the programming was nearly comprehensible and very interesting. However, an extra Avalon wouldn't be any use to anyone, except Gan, who had become droopily sentimental about her and would evidently have loved a more romantic version without the politics.
About as likely as Blake without the politics, he decided, and what _would_ Blake be like without the politics, anyway? shortly followed by Hmm. Could be interesting.
He thought no more about it, because he was a practical man and he knew he couldn't do more than the most basic "pick up this, drop that" with such an incredible machine. And it was immoral anyway. Not that he cared about ethics.
A few weeks later, he acquired an even more incredible machine. He told it about the Avalon android, and it (being rather like him) thought "Hmm. Interesting programming problem." Then he happened to acquire some top-secret Federation files including some of the tech specs for the Avalon android. Oh, not everything, but enough to get a better idea of it. Unbelievable piece of work, even more when one saw some of what was behind it.
At that point, Orac began pestering him to build one. | |
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| Job Satisfaction by astrogirl2Blake/Avon. Um. Very short, and very, very hot. Poor Avon is trying to make some computer adjustments. With a sudden gust of irritation, he realized that Blake was still putzing around the room. Avon could hear him now, making some sort of odd rustling noises right behind him. He began to turn, preparatory to delivering some cutting remark, when he suddenly felt Blake's body press full against his. And he could see just enough of Blake now to realize that he was completely, utterly naked. A hand shot out from beside him and deposited something on the console beside him: a jar -- an open jar -- of industrial lubricant. It was kept here for use on _Liberator_'s few moving parts, but it certainly had... other uses. As Blake well knew.
Avon was still blinking at it, mildly shocked, as Blake's other hand slid around and began unfastening his trousers. | |
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