Title: Scrambling
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harper/Tyr
Spoilers: The Honey Offering
Disclaimer: These are not my characters, I'm making no money, and no copyright infringement is intended.

 Summary: Harper thoughts during and before The Honey Offering. Sex.

 Notes: This is a sequel to Stimulating. Thanks to Riana who beta read this, told me I didn't actually suck, and also sent me the exact lines for a scene in The Honey Offering.

 * * *

 His skin felt tight, hot. He'd known this confrontation was inevitable, he just hadn't expected it so soon. He pushed the work goggles up to his hair and waited.

 Beka stood in front of him, arms crossed and face sternly concerned. "What do you think you're doing with Tyr?"

 He shrugged. "What do you think I'm doing with him?"

 She threw up her hands, and began moving erratically around the workroom, kicking randomly at garbage. "You're a slob, Harper," she half muttered. "Look, you know what I mean. You two were discreet for I don't know how long, but it's kind of hard to miss him running half-dressed out of your room during an emergency drill."

 He refused to respond to her increasingly agitated questions. Finally, she banged her hands flat against the table and leaned over towards him.

 "I don't know what you're thinking, but you have to realise he's playing with you. You know what he's like. He barely thinks Dylan is worthy of his attention, much less--." She trailed off when she saw the look on his face.

 "What? Much less what? Much less a human half his size? Who gets sick too easily and isn't the first man you'd want with you in a fight? Is that what?" His voice sounded harsh and bitter, even to his own ears.

 Beka backed down, looking contrite. "Harper, you know what I'm trying to say. Tyr's an important member of this crew, but you and I both know what he's capable of. I don't know what his game is, but you have to realise that he's going to turn on you, drop you, and hurt you."

 He shrugged again, and turned away. He'd had enough of this now. "It's not like I'm in love with him. And maybe he's playing *my* game." With that, he got back to work, ignoring her, finally hearing her retreating footsteps.

 Abruptly he dropped his tools, leaning his head forward in his hands. He appreciated her concern. What he didn't appreciate was her way of putting it. She implied he couldn't take care of himself, that he was a hapless thrall to some game that Tyr had concocted. It grated. A lot. It was demeaning. She cared about him. He was a friend that Beka wanted to be happy. Unfortunately, her protectiveness sometimes ended up smothering him, and made him feel like all she saw was weakness. That made him feel weak.

 It was ridiculous. He was letting her concern play on his own self-doubts.

 With a sigh, he pulled the glasses back down onto his face and turned to find the right tools for his project. He wondered how long Tyr had been standing in the doorway.

 "Watching for long?"

 Tyr moved closer. "No. I take it things didn't go well?"

 "Not really. She talk to you yet?"

 "I do not think she will. Perhaps an oblique threat here and there, but no direct confrontation."

 "I told her to back off."

 "Yes."

 "She thinks you're playing with me."

 Tyr grinned. "I am. I was under the impression you did not object."

 Harper smirked a little. "Yeah. That's what I told her."

 "Perhaps you would like to--"

 Harper shook his head quickly, cutting the Nietzschean off. "Not right now. Thanks." He bent towards the work table, and got back into the thing he did best.

 * * *

Later, he stopped by Tyr's cabin and found it empty. Well, that was ok. He could use some rest anyway.

 The halls were empty as he walked to his own quarters, which wasn't so unusual. He wondered what it had been like when the ship had its full complement of crew members. It was odd to think of Andromeda full of busy High Guard officers and recruits. He wondered if the halls would ever be buzzing with anyone other than the occasional invasion forces again.

 He walked through his door, tossing tool belt aside and reaching for a drink. Sparky cola, all the way, no matter how bad it was for him. Who said he couldn't be a little self-destructive?

 The room wasn't as messy as it could be, probably because he'd half-cleaned it in an attempt to get Tyr to come visiting. He moved to slump on a chair, catching himself when he saw the black webbed shirt lying across it.

 He smiled. And Tyr wondered about *his* style?

 Looking around, he noticed boots against a wall, leather pants folded next to them. He smiled wider, and took a long drink before setting the bottle down. Kicking off his own boots, and removing his outer shirt, he moved towards the bedroom.

 Tyr was sitting on the bed, back against the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest. He was smirking. "Took you a while."

 Harper smirked back. "Sometimes anticipation heightens the experience. You look more pleased with yourself than usual." And he did. Tyr looked like he'd just made a really good kill.

 Now Tyr grinned smugly. "We will be escorting a woman to her wedding."

 What? "I don't get it. Since when did you become a romantic?"

 "Since it means bringing two warring prides into an alliance against a pride which is my enemy."

 Christ, Nietzschean crap. He shook his head. "Do you understand the meaning of the word 'moderation'? What kind of guy counts a whole *pride* as his enemy?" He cut off the explanation with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, don't tell me, I know. It's the way of your kind, survival and competition and the best breeding and all that. Ok. Great. Congratulations on convincing Dylan to do what you wanted. Don't look at me that way, I know you must have had to give him a good reason to get in between pride wars. I hope your plan works."

 Tyr ignored the rant and took the congratulations. "It will work."

 "I presume you're here to do a little celebrating." He pulled off his t-shirt.

 "Clever boy."

 He quirked an eyebrow. "And you just assumed I'd be interested?"

 Tyr put his impassive face back on. "I think you stopping by my quarters was the first indication." He gestured at Harper's pants, now lying on the floor. "That's the second."

 "You monitored my movements?"

 "I've asked Andromeda to tell me if anyone enters my quarters."

 "Maybe I should ask her to do the same for me." He moved closer, kneeling on the bed. "Then again, I like the occasional surprise."

 Tyr reached for him, pulling him down and onto his side. "Enough talking."

 He wasn't going to argue. He had better things to do with his mouth right now.

 Tyr had a great tongue, which of course, should have been a given. Sex with Tyr was a great ego-stoke too. Harper had wondered if he might be hard to please, or even worse, if he might have weird expectations. Judging from his reactions though, and the fact that he kept coming back for more, Tyr seemed to get as much out of their liaisons as he did. Tyr liked it a little rough sometimes, but nothing freaky that Harper wasn't prepared for.

 So here he was, Tyr's tongue in his mouth, his chest against him, and his ass in his hand. It was a great way to wind down the day.

 Tyr usually liked to be in control during sex, which wasn't a surprise, given his attitude to everything else. Harper didn't mind, because, just like most things he did, Tyr exceeded in bed. He was always guaranteed a wild ride, and then he'd do his best to return the favour.

 Right now, Tyr's hand was wrapped around Harper's cock, the grip just firm enough to leave his jaw lax. And that was cool too, 'cause Tyr was doing that weird lip and jaw licking thing he seemed to get off on.

 The twist and slide of a warm hand. Lips and teeth nipping lips and jaw. The slight undulation of hips as Tyr got off on getting him off. Oooh, yeah, again, harder this time, hand moving a little faster, and mouth moving to lick his collar bone, bite his shoulder. He listened to the grunts he was making, echoed by the purrs deep in Tyr's throat.

 Harper moved his hand between them, reaching out to squeeze Tyr's rigid cock, coaxing out deeper noises, almost growls. He let his hand get into a counter rhythm to Tyr's movements, until they were both thoroughly working each other over. He liked the taste of Tyr's sweat and skin in his mouth, and abruptly, he wanted more.

 Breathing deeply, he tried to ignore how good Tyr's hands felt on him, and shoved the guy over onto his back. He teased briefly with a few chest licks, then shifted down and licked across the head of Tyr's cock, wet and slick. Hands squeezed his shoulders as he sucked Tyr in, tongue flicking on his way down.

 Tyr had stamina, and that was cool and gratifying sometimes. Right now though, he just really wanted to make the Nietzschean lose control, to play the game the way Harper wanted. So he sucked ruthlessly, one hand pulling gently on short, dark hairs. He rode out the bucks and listened happily to the groans from above. Then, he pulled out the big guns, letting his teeth scrape gently along wet, warm flesh as he moved upwards. More gently, he sucked the tip of Tyr's cock, then moved back down, teeth out again, this time scraping a little harder. Once more of that combination and he was pretty sure Tyr would start to lose it.

 He moved his hand down to Tyr's balls, and felt them begin to tighten as he scraped back upwards, licking occasionally. The hands on his shoulders gripped almost too tight, and then one moved to his head. He licked a few more times, swallowed a little as Tyr bucked up, and then swallowed some more, enjoying the warmth spurting into his mouth.

 He pushed up and rolled over onto his back, licking his lips quickly. Nice. He tilted his head back to find Tyr looking down at him, eyes slightly hooded. Oh shit, he knew that look. Unbidden, he started to smile. Tyr shifted and reached to pull him upwards. He struggled slightly, which just made muscles under dark, sweat-sheened skin flex some more.

 Yeah. He was in for a *really* wild ride.

 * * *

 Afterwards, he lay sprawled on his back, Tyr's fingers walking across his chest, occasionally stroking. He had to admit, the guy was good after sex as well as during. Plus, he was usually up for another round.

"Did her questions bother you?"

 Harper snorted. "What's up, Tyr? You want me to talk about my feelings? Maybe you are turning romantic after all."

 "Contrary to popular belief, my people do talk to each other. Is it really so unusual to ask you if you're angry?"

 Whatever. "Nah. It's cool. I knew she would have something to say about it. It's nice that she cares, but sometimes it's almost like she thinks I can't take care of myself. It's just frustrating. Drop it, ok?"

 * * *

 Beka dropped it too, other than a few indirect comments and veiled snarks. The arrival of Her Nietzschean Highness Elssbet Mossadim managed to ease some of the tension between them, as they bitched about the woman's attitude, language and oh yeah, attitude. He wasn't fooled though, when Beka started talking about how unappealing Elssbet was, and how damaged anyone would have to be to be interested in her.

 "There's only one person pathetic enough to like her." No way she was talking about Elssbet there. Fine, two could play that.

 He smiled his patented goofy, 'I don't know what's bad for me' grin. "Hey, she's hot!" She was, but that wasn't who he meant.

 "Really? I find that her attitude somewhat ruins her looks." He wasn't sure how to respond, so he went with the hissing cat noises he knew would most annoy Beka.

 Apparently Tyr wasn't up on the game. Morosely, he intoned, "Believe me, boy, Elssbet holds you in utter contempt." Oooh, first name basis? Huh. Maybe Tyr was playing, trying to get Beka's goat. Or maybe he wasn't playing at all. Maybe Tyr had made a connection with one of his own kind, and was back to his old contemptuous attitude towards everyone else, especially Harper.

 He grinned again, half forced. "I know. She's hot, *and* she's a good judge of character. So what if she holds me in utter contempt? At least she's thinking of me." Shit. How pathetic and needy did THAT sound? He left the impromptu gathering before self-doubt took over.

 * * *

 He hadn't lied to Beka. It wasn't like he was in love with Tyr. The idea was ridiculous. Sometimes he didn't even like Tyr. Like right now, the man was obsessing with this Elssbet person, hoping she would show him favour later on. Well, that was ok, that made sense. You never knew where your next allies might be, and laying those roots just was just good planning. He wasn't going to object to that.

 It was the ridiculous desire to destroy whatever-it-was pride. These long term grudges just weren't going to get him anywhere. Harper was of a different philosophy. Remember your enemies, be aware they still exist, but don't waste energy going out of your way to destroy them. In a fight, take 'em down. Don't go looking for the fight.

 For all their claims of superiority, Harper wondered how and why the Nietzscheans had survived this long with ongoing pride wars and bloodfeuds that lasted generations. It wasn't normal.

 Not that any Nietzschean would give a damn about human thoughts on normalcy.

 * * *

 Of course, things went straight to hell. They got threatened by some renowned Nietzschean leader, Cuchulain. Elssbet and Dylan took off and left them to cope with a fleet of warships herding them. And on top of it all, he could tell Tyr was pissed that *he* hadn't been asked to take Elssbet to her wedding. Whatever he'd been planning or hoping for with her wasn't going to be pulled off. Instead, it would be Dylan who got her gratitude.

 There were fun parts though, including the staged attack in front of Cuchulain, which had left him feeling keyed up. He allowed himself a moment of self-congratulation at the realism of his act. He could thank Tyr, he guessed, for helping him with his moves.

 They should have known the Nietzschean wouldn't fall for it, though. As it was, they barely caught on that they hadn't ever really been the focus of Cuchulain's attentions.

 So, as usual, things went from good intentions and grand plans to mistakes and battles and confusion and danger, to all working out in the end (after some serious ass busting). Dylan stopped a genocide, and gained the freedom of some systems, Tyr got the alliance he was hoping for, and a bunch of Nietzscheans got into what would probably be a long, messy and distracting war.

 It was almost like the crew lived charmed lives. Harper wondered how long it would last.

 * * *

 Sparring a day later, it was obvious that Tyr had something on his mind. He went all out on Harper more often now, building his confidence as well as his skills. Sure, these were only practice sessions, but hopefully they would pay off in the face of any real battles.

 Soon he'd ask Tyr to teach him how to handle Magog, although even the thought of fighting them made him shiver.

 Today though, Tyr was working on automatic. There was no interest in Harper's movements and strategies. Instead, arms and legs moved automatically to counter assaults. Harper backed off.

 "This isn't fun."

 Tyr looked at him like he'd grown another head. "It's not supposed to be fun. You're supposed to be learning."

 Harper crossed the room and grabbed his shirt, pulling it on. "Fine then. I'm not learning anything. I might as well be fighting one of the Droids. How can I learn when you're not even paying attention to what I'm doing?" He sounded like a petulant child. Shit. He tried again. "Look, it's obvious you're not in the mood for teaching, which is cool. So tell me, what's got you, Mr.I Love to Fight, all in a twist?"

 Tyr just continued to look at him, unanswering.

 "It's about her, isn't it?" There was no question who he was talking about. "What did you want from her?" He watched as the other man gathered his weapons and walked towards the door, leaving him with a growled,

 "Respect."

He stood, staring at the empty doorway, thinking about that.

 It had to really suck to be the lone survivor of a pride in a species that was obsessed with breeding and bloodlines. Tyr would probably never really be satisfied with the respect of the Andromeda Ascendant and her crew.

 It didn't matter that he was valued, and would be protected, even in the face of things like assassination accusations, by all of them. The respect of three humans, a whatever Trance was, a Magog, and a ship (even a ship like Rommie) weren't what Tyr had been raised to seek out.

 It was in his nature to want more, and now matter how much he projected self-assurance and ability, Harper was pretty sure that on some level, Tyr was scrambling. He could identify. He knew what it was like to have everything just out of reach. He knew that gut-deep panicked feeling of being locked into a cycle, one that wasn't of your own making, but which you couldn't get out from.

 So Tyr had been looking for respect.

 Yeah. Harper knew that one, all right.

 End

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