Pandora Post #11

Title: Pandora



Part Eleven: Abrupt Departures



Notes: This is the next part of a spin-off story of a series I posted on Literotica (titled Bonded, as Carizabeth) and the subject matter is m/m sci fi. This one is rated NC-17, long and dirty for a belated Valentine’s Day splurge. Enjoy!







The going away extravaganza was exactly what Garrett had pictured from the sanctity of his apartment. There were five thousand workers and colonists heading to Pandora, and it seemed like all of them had decided to show up. Apparently each of them could bring a guest as well, and everyone did, right down to the toddlers.

The docking bay of the Neptune seethed with people. Crowds lined all levels of the bay itself, packed the main floor and even perched on the ships that were left in there. Garrett noticed several people sitting on top of his own cruiser but didn’t bother to get worked up about it. They couldn’t get inside and they couldn’t break anything. Hell, he would have preferred to join them, but he hadn’t had anything to drink yet and he wasn’t subjecting himself to this without alcohol.

There were name tags being handed out at the doors, which Garrett steadfastly refused to wear. There were party hats and noisemakers and floating balloon animals that people could mold and then throw into the air, where they would hover and glow. Children were screaming and laughing, adults were yelling and shouting into the ferocious din, and wafting over it all was the Olympian planetary anthem, coming in tinnily over the speaker system. It was on repeat, apparently. The horns would blow, the tambourines would shiver with their final triumphant rattle, there would be one last strum on the giant lyre…and then it would all start over again. And again.

Five minutes in Garrett knew he’d made a mistake. Five minutes after that and he was beginning to wonder of he’d be able to push through to the outer edge of the pool of people, much less make it back up to his apartment. He decided discretion was the better part of valor and headed for his ship. He could take refuge there.

Apparently some other people had had the same idea. There was a group of what looked like teenagers hanging around the undercarriage of his cruiser, trying to act casual but failing miserably. They were clustered too tightly together for it to be natural, despite the press, and as he got closer Garrett could see that one of their number was lying on the floor behind them, busily rewiring the controls for his outer locks. The kid had somehow managed to get the paneling off without prying it, which would have set off the alarm. Even as Garrett watched the hatch hissed lightly and released, opening for the industrious young hacker. He was impressed more than he was pissed, which was why when he pushed the worried-faced gang out of his way and dragged the girl out, he did it by the arm instead of the hair.

“Hey!” she shrieked, falling back on defensive aggression even as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Get off me!”

“Get off my ship,” Garrett replied calmly, letting the girl go but not moving out of her way.

“It’s, what, no…it’s…no personal ships are allowed to go to fucking Pandora.” The way she said it left no doubt as to how she felt about their destination.

“So because it’s not supposed to be going with you it’s okay to break into it?”

“I didn’t break anything,” she muttered. White blond hair fell over her eyes, but Garrett could see enough to see that she was glaring at him. “And you’re not coming to Pandora, you’re a fucking doll.”

“Doll” was a colloquialism for people who had either had a lot of very obvious modifications done in an effort to stand out or, as Garrett had very recently learned, an epithet that naturals used to describe anyone who could tolerate regenerative medicine. Garrett had learned quite a bit about the prejudices naturals had against normal members of society, “normal” also being a very loaded term, of course. In the society he was entering into, normal would be defined by the naturals, who were the majority of people moving to Pandora.

Garrett chuckled at the girl’s insult, which seemed to make her even more upset. Her friends vanished into the crowd, their interest waning now that the opportunity for some exciting breaking and entering was denied to them. Her hands had clenched into fists, and her nails dug so deeply into her palms that Garrett thought she might be puncturing the skin. Her caramel skin was taking on a reddish tone, either from anger or shame he couldn’t tell.

“What, you think I’m funny, doll?” Hmm, that definitely sounded like anger.

“Not exactly,” Garrett replied, getting his wayward sense of humor under control. Laughing in her face was just making it worse for her. “And I’m not a doll.”

“Yeah, right. You’re not a doll like I’m not a fucking reg.” “Regs” were another term Garrett had learned recently, intimating that naturals were regular people and everyone else was abnormal.

“Honest. I’m not a doll. I am, however, the owner of that ship. And I want you to put it back together. Now.”

“Make me, doll.”

Garrett sighed. The last thing he wanted to do right now was get into a shouting match with a repetitive, angst-filled teenager. On the other hand, it would take security forever to wade through the crowd and he didn’t feel comfortable personally restraining her. Her eyes were darting back and forth, and she was clearly considering making a break for it.

“Tamara.” A new voice from behind them made them both turn to look, the girl with apprehension and Garrett with appreciation. It had been forever since he’d heard that accent, the long vowels and rolling drawl turning the girl’s name into “Taamrah.” Drifters were a rare breed, the last of the real independent traders in this part of the universe. They were born, lived and died aboard their ships, running from planet to planet and taking on the cargo that most Federation-based shipping companied refused to. Technically they weren’t smugglers, but the planets in the central system did everything they could to restrict trading to resident shipping cartels. The majority of drifters had been pushed to the Fringe planets, and even there they were becoming fewer and further between. This man wasn’t wearing a uniform, but Garrett figured he had to be involved in the colony project somehow.

“I didn’t break anything,” the girl—Tamara—said, but her voice was less angry and more nervous now.

“Didn’t say you did,” the man replied. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to put somethin’ back together. I’ll give you five minutes before I let your pa know.”

Her face paled almost to the shade of her hair. “You wouldn’t.”

“Those five minutes’ve already started,” he said gently.

Tamara blew an explosive breath upwards, ruffling her bangs, but she turned around and crawled back under the cruiser, swearing just loud enough to be audible but not quite loud enough so they could make out the details. It was probably better that way.

The man settled in next to Garrett and nodded companionably. “Evenin’.”

“Thanks for the assist,” Garrett replied.

“My pleasure. Tamara’s smart as a whip, but that doesn’t mean she’s got the sense God gave little apples.”

Ah, drifter slang. So deliciously quaint. “I gathered as much.”

“I reckon you did.” The look the other man gave him was amicably tolerant, a lot like the one he’d given the girl, but Garrett could see a welcoming heat behind it. He held out his hand.

“I’m Garrett.” It would take too long to explain his last name.

“Jonah.” They shook, and when Jonah’s fingertips slid against Garrett’s palm as he let go, Garrett felt the heat as well. Jonah had the slightly tense look of a man long-contained and bursting at the seams, wanting but not knowing how to get what he wanted. He was good looking, not incredibly handsome but comfortably attractive, with a lean, lanky body a few inches taller than Garrett’s and sandy brown hair tucked back behind his ears. His eyes were a warm brown, and his jaw was a little scruffy with the beginnings of a beard. Not military, then. Probably not even an expedition member; perhaps he was a consultant. The last thing an inveterate wanderer like a drifter would want was to settle on a planet in the Fringe. They carried their homes with them, they didn’t stop moving and put down roots. That actually made Garrett happy. Here was his hook-up, if he played it right.

“Nice ship,” Jonah offered. He might as well have been screaming subtext. Garrett liked discussion laced with casual innuendo, and he threw himself into it.

“Thank you. She’s been good enough for me lately.” She’s my home away from home. See how alike we are?

“No other crew members?” No wife, husband, lover, family?

“Nope. Just me.” All on my lonesome.

“You been out on her long?” Just how desperate are you?

“The last stretch was for three weeks.” Not that desperate, thanks very much, but I’m willing to consider you.

“Plenty long for most people.” I’m willing to be considered.

“Hellooo, are you done orally fucking each other yet?”

They both turned and looked at Tamara, who was rolling her eyes. “It’s finished. Can I go already?”

Garrett leaned down and looked at the panel. It was back in place, with no sign of tampering. His hatch was still open, but one push from him would reclose it. “It looks good.”

“Try not to break into any more ships tonight, Tam,” Jonah said mildly. Tamara didn’t say anything, just brushed by both of them with a scowl.

Garrett looked over at Jonah and decided to drop the innuendo. “I’m much better at orally fucking people than that, actually.”

Jonah looked startled for a moment, then laughed. “God, I bet you are. Got anything to drink in there?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He’d stocked all of the alcohol he’d bought for the journey into his ship, where it would be harder to monitor his consumption than if he stored it in his quarters. “Would you care to look at my selection?”

“Love to.”

Garrett opened the hatch all the way and stepped inside, gesturing for Jonah to follow him. Dim lights lit in the narrow hallway as he made his way to his kitchen. Garrett grabbed a couple of glasses from a cabinet and turned around to face Jonah. In the low light his face was shadowed, mysterious. The way he moved was languidly graceful, more relaxed than Robbie, more comfortable than Isidore. He seemed completely at home in Garrett’s space, which Garrett supposed came from a lifetime aboard ships. Jonah had never developed self-consciousness.

“What would you like?”

“What’ve you got?”

“There’s a bottle of pretty decent whiskey.” It was excellent whiskey, honestly, but Garrett didn’t expect his guest to know the difference.

Jonah nodded slightly. “Sounds fine.”

Garrett poured the amber liquid into the tumblers, a classic whiskey, using Old Earth grain varieties. He handed a glass over to Jonah and they toasted each other silently, then drank. The liquid burned on the way down, and was immediately followed by such a relaxing smoothness that Garrett sighed appreciatively.

Jonah sipped once to taste, then knocked the rest of his back. A second later he belied his languorous posture by slipping quickly in front of Garrett, his hands coming to rest lightly on the other man’s hips. Garrett followed suit and swallowed his whiskey down, then set the glass aside. The warmth welling inside of him was partially from the alcohol but mostly from being surrounded by a hot, willing partner. Someone who wanted him. He hadn’t felt wanted lately, but if the slight trembles in Jonah’s hands were anything to go by, he sure as hell was wanted now. Garrett twined his arms around Jonah’s shoulders and pulled him down into a kiss.

That was where Garrett’s direction ended. Jonah took control of the kiss, his mouth slanting hot and hard against Garrett’s lips, and the taste of whiskey backed by the insistent thrust of his tongue was more intoxicating than any alcohol. His hands moved restlessly against Garrett’s form, mapping the curves and planes of his body beneath his suit, and suddenly there were way too many clothes separating them.

“Bed,” Garrett gasped as he pulled back for a second. “Across the hall—” His voice cut off abruptly as Jonah bent quickly and threw Garrett over his shoulder, squeezing the breath out of him. He didn’t protest, just let himself be carried into his small bedroom and tossed down onto the bed. He bounced, and was filled with the sudden inexplicable urge to giggle, which would have been embarrassing. Fortunately Jonah followed him down fast and stopped his impending outburst with another kiss. Garrett heard the faint groan in the back of Jonah’s throat and realized that it however long it had been for him, it had been a lot longer for his hook-up. Jonah didn’t just want Garrett, he needed him.

“You’ve got me,” Garrett whispered, slowing the kiss down a little, smoothing his hands over Jonah’s back and shoulders. “You’ve got me, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jonah shuddered for a moment, then pulled back. His hair was loose around his face, making him look young. He gave Garrett a half-smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to just jump you.”

“I like jumping, jumping is good,” Garrett assured him.

Jonah somehow managed a nonchalant shrug from a prone position. “Still, not exactly polite of me. I sorta skipped ahead a few steps.” He smiled more genuinely. “I mean, you haven’t even shown me how good you are at orally fucking people.”

“Oh, I’m incredible at it,” Garrett promised him. “I’m a fantastic oral fucker. Is that what you’d like?”

“For starters,” Jonah replied. “Then I’d like to fuck you into the mattress.”

Ah. Well. It had been quite a while since Garrett had bottomed for anyone. Actually…it had been since Robbie. Years, now. Every person he’d fucked since then he’d, well, fucked them.

Jonah was watching his face closely. “You don’t care for that?”

“I do, actually. It’s just been some time since I have.”

“We’ll take it slow if you want it.”

Garrett grinned. “Slow doesn’t seem to be your forté.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Jonah said. “I can make it so slow you beg me for it, darlin’.”

Why did Garrett shiver when he heard that silly pet name applied to himself? Maybe it was the concept of begging for it. Yes, that was it. “Maybe after some oral fucking. I do have something to prove, after all.”

“True that.” Jonah kissed him again, then sat back on his heels and pulled off his shirt. His chest was lean and broad, and dusted with dark curls of hair. He unfastened his pants and stood up just long enough to shuck them and his underwear to the floor and step out of his boots, then sprawled back down on the bed, not on top of Garrett but beside him. He took one of Garrett’s hands in his own and brought it down to his thick, hot erection. The tip was already wet.

Garrett didn’t bother to undress, he just slid over until their bodies were flush, silk cloth against silky skin. He kissed Jonah’s mouth again, then his chin, then made his way down his throat and over his chest as he slid down the bed. Garrett pumped his hand along Jonah’s cock, once, twice, and then his mouth was even with it and he couldn’t resist leaning in to taste. He flicked his tongue across the tip, catching the precome and savoring the tang of it on his tongue, before leaning in and closing his lips over the head. Jonah groaned loudly and spread his legs, and Garrett shifted to settle between them.

Jonah was large, a little longer than average and thick enough that Garrett had to work to relax his throat around him. He could do it; he’d spent many nights of his misbegotten youth practicing deep-throating anyone who was interested, but it had been a long time since he’d had someone who really made him stretch. He took Jonah’s cock deep into his mouth, until his lips brushed wiry curls, and then went back again, rising up to the head and swirling his tongue around it. Garrett pulled off and ran his wet, clinging lips down the velvety skin, breathing hot breaths against it as he wrapped his fingers around Jonah’s balls and pulled, ever so lightly. When he had Jonah squirming in his grip, seeking pressure and trying to thrust but not finding purchase, he swallowed him down again.

“Gonna come if you keep this up,” Jonah warned him with a gravelly voice.

Garrett removed his mouth with a slick, obscene pop. “I’m sure I can make you come more than once tonight.”

“Promises, promises,” Jonah muttered, spreading his legs wider. “But yeah, I reckon you can.”

“Let’s find out,” Garrett said. He got his knees underneath him and positioned himself more comfortably, and then he went to town. He licked and sucked, he hummed and tugged and stroked as he worked the heavy cock stretching his lips. Precome gushed into his mouth, just a little and then a lot, and after a few minutes Jonah’s abdomen was as hard as a board, his breaths were shallow and then his hands buried themselves in the softness of Garrett’s hair as he came in Garrett’s mouth, so hard and so much that he almost choked on it. He pulled back when the flow stopped, enjoying the quivers racing through Jonah’s body as he slowly came down from his orgasmic high. Garrett gently stroked Jonah’s thighs and stomach, content just to watch him for a while.

Garrett loved sex, but he never chased orgasms. He might have a reputation as a selfish hedonistic bastard, but in reality he was just as interested in pleasing his partners as he was in pleasing himself. More, even. He didn’t keep track or insist on tit for tat, he just gave what he could and took what was given while making it as good as possible for them both. Most people appreciated that. The few who didn’t he never bothered with a second time.

Jonah finally caught his breath and then looked down at the man laid out between his legs. “Holy shit.”

Garrett smirked and nodded immodestly. “So I’m told.”

“That was…real good.”

“Thanks.” It was kind of underwhelming praise, but Garrett didn’t need words to know how he’d made the other man feel. “Do you need some more time, or are you ready to make me beg yet?” Not to rush things, but Garrett was hard and aching after tasting Jonah.

“I can be ready,” Jonah smiled. “Come up here.” Garrett crawled up his body, slow and sinuous, and settled down on top of Jonah’s chest. They pressed their lips together, Jonah’s tongue coming out to taste the remnants of his spend while his hands got to work peeling back Garrett’s jacket. The soft blue material fell away, followed by his shirt and pants, until they were both naked and moving against each other. Jonah rolled them over so he was on top, and then his own hand was on Garrett’s cock, pulling lightly. He had the calluses of a pilot, hard edged along his fingers but with fingertips so smooth the contrast was a shocking surprise.

Jonah’s hand dipped lower, fondling and rolling Garrett’s balls, then stroking over his perineum. When his fingertips brushed Garrett’s entrance, he spread his legs wider and reached up into one of the pop-out drawers for a container of lubricant. His body and mind were buzzing, pulsing, ready. He could do this. It would be good. He handed the lube to Jonah, who thanked him and then set it aside.

“Don’t you want to…”

“Told you I’d take it slow.” Jonah smiled and ran his tongue over Garrett’s left nipple, worrying at it and biting lightly. His hand kept moving, and Garrett decided to just relax and let the man do things how he wanted to. Garrett didn’t need to direct or control right now. He just needed to let a sex-starved drifter have his way with him, which was really no hardship.

Jonah nuzzled into the hollow of Garrett’s hip, and bit a light circle around his bellybutton. His hands went lower, massaging smooth, hairless skin and long muscles. Garrett preened under the attention, delighting in being worshipped. That was what it felt like. Every touch of Jonah’s tongue on his skin was appreciative, every panting breath and kiss and caress was reverent in the manner of someone who truly longed for what he was being given. It had been a long time since Garrett had been worshipped, not with eager fumbling and more energy than refinement, but with the slow and steady movements of a man who knew exactly what he was touching and how to handle it.

When Jonah started sucking Garrett’s toes it sent actual chills up his back. He pressed up and arched towards him, trying to get more skin-on-skin contact, but Jonah just bit the ball of his foot and smiled mischievously. “Anxious?”

“Ready,” Garrett corrected breathlessly.

“Nice to know,” Jonah said. “But I’m not done with you.” He lay Garrett’s foot down on the bed. “Roll over.”

Garrett obeyed, and the sudden heavy weight of Jonah’s body on his own was delicious. He stretched his arms up over his head and smiled when the other man’s hands circled his wrists, holding him in place. Jonah slotted his body against Garrett’s, the thick curve of his cock fitting perfectly along Garrett’s ass, and he moved, slowly rutting. Garrett groaned.

“Fucking tease.”

“You gotta want it,” Jonah murmured in his ear. “Gotta want it bad.”

“I do.”

“Yeah?” He let go with one hand and fumbled for the lubricant. Garrett shut his eyes and took a deep breath, consciously relaxing. When he felt a finger against him he frowned.

“More.”

“Barely have one yet, darlin’,” Jonah teased as he slipped his finger inside. “God, you’re bossy.” A second finger joined the first and they twisted, stretching and curling inside of him. Garrett firmly shut his mouth and didn’t say anything when the third finger entered him, working not to tense or moan.

“I want to hear you,” Jonah said, his voice husky and low. “Let me hear you.”

“Jonah, god, just fuck me.”

A moment later the thick, blunt head of Jonah’s cock replaced his fingers, and Garrett did moan now. “Yes, that’s it, I want it,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please, please…” It had been so long since he’d taken someone inside, and in that moment Garrett couldn’t imagine wanting anything more. Jonah braced his free arm above Garrett’s head and slid forward, and he was so much thicker than three fingers, so much thicker than he’d had in so long… Jonah pressed in until he couldn’t go any further, and they both shuddered.

“Garrett…” Jonah rocked against him, and pressed kisses into his long blond hair. “You feel so good.”

“Move,” he begged. “I’m fine, you can move, please.”

Jonah did move, slowly at first, just edging his way in and out before he felt comfortable to push it further. After a few minutes he drew back and pulled Garrett up onto his knees, and the change in angle was sharp and perfect and made Garrett groan again. Jonah thrust in harder and faster, and Garrett braced himself on his elbows and appreciatively rode the waves of pleasure edged with the stinging, familiar pain of accepting another man into his body. It had been so long, and it felt so wonderful. He was making noises, saying nothing but being understood, because Jonah reached around his hip and found his cock, grabbing it with slippery fingers and thumbing over the head until Garrett cried out and came, hard, clenching around Jonah’s cock as stars flickered across his vision. He felt the sudden wet heat flood his body, felt Jonah tremble and lean suddenly against him and then they collapsed back down against the bed.

Jonah kept moving inside of him, just short, fluttering thrusts, kissing his shoulders and neck and clutching him tight. He rolled them so they were on their sides rather than him laying on top and crushing Garrett with his weight, but he stayed inside as they both calmed down, his thrusts slowing and his cock softening until finally he slipped free with a sigh of disappointment. “God, you’re incredible,” he said.

“I think I can share the acclaim,” Garrett smiled. “You felt perfect.”

“Slow enough for ya?”

“Much more waiting and I would have gotten violent, which isn’t a good look for me,” Garrett confessed.

“Not really a good look for anyone,” Jonah said philosophically. He pulled back, just slightly, but it was enough to let cool air in between their bodies, and Garrett shivered.

“No,” he said. “Stay. Get some sleep. It’s a jungle out there; wait for the herd to thin a little.”

“Mixin’ your metaphors a little, darlin’.”

“I have coffee for the morning,” Garrett coaxed. No matter whom he fucked, Garrett wasn’t in the habit of letting them slink away in the night. It was just rude not to stare down the person you’d invited into your body, or vice versa, by the light of day.

“Real coffee?”

“One hundred percent real, and not freeze dried or reconstituted.”

“Hmm. I suppose that’s worth waiting around for.” Jonah turned Garrett’s head just far enough to kiss his lips, then scooted them both over until they were off of the wet spot. Garrett settled back into his lover’s arms, relaxed and content for the first time in weeks, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When Garrett woke up the next morning, Jonah was gone. There was no note, no empty cup of coffee and no goodbye, awkward or otherwise. Garrett was just alone in a small room smelling heavily of sex, flooded with delicious recent memories but only able to feel disappointment.