Untouchable (LGBT - SciFi - Romance)

Chapter 29

Max felt he was able to walk unaided by the time they reached the end of the passage, and dropped back to see if Lee needed any help with the prisoner. Banner stayed next to Alan, held tight against his side.

The five were the last to reach the departure lounge. Corporal Brown was there, keeping a wary eye on six men who were evidently bound and unconscious on the floor. A flicker of relief passed across his face when he saw Stewart. "Six minutes to go, sir," he reported. "Shuttle will be here in about sixty seconds. I sent Hussein off with the last man standing a few seconds ago, but there's still one stealth pod left."

Stewart looked at the man Lee was guarding. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Costa."

He looked at Max. "Are you okay to travel with Costa in the stealth pod?"

"Fine sir," replied Max at the same time the thickset man shook his head frantically. "No, I can't stand those little things, I'd rather die! I'll wait for the shuttle!"

Alan looked reluctantly at Banner. He didn't want to let him out of his sight, but he needed Brown and Lee, to help move the prisoners into the shuttle when it arrived.

"I'll go," Banner volunteered. Now was not the time to make a fuss. He would be with Alan again soon enough.

The two young men inserted themselves quickly into the stealth pod and signalled the Qatar's navigator to draw them back to the ship, only seconds before the shuttle arrived outside the hatch.

Lee ushered Costa into the shuttle first, securing him to a seat, then went back to help Brown and Stewart carry in the remaining men. They didn't waste any time being gentle, they would be cutting it fine enough as it was. The shuttle detached itself and sped back to the Qatar as fast as it could go. The blast from the exploding yacht sent them tumbling a couple of minutes later, Stewart could only hope the stealth pod had already reached the Qatar.

Eventually all the medical checks were done, initial reports made and prisoners housed in temporary detention. The plump civilian had identified himself as Bari Fanshaw, a financial consultant, based on Capella but covering both Burra and Moonta. He insisted he had paid handsomely for a space cruise around Moonta, and vigorously denied any knowledge that the yacht was being used to transport kidnap victims. Neither Almeida or Stewart could decide if he was part of the plot or an innocent bystander being used as camouflage. In either case, he would remain under guard, although in reasonable accommodation, pending further investigation.

Alan Stewart wanted nothing more than to lock himself away in his quarters with Banner for a few hours, but he was on duty until the Qatar reached Capella. He would be in charge of transporting the prisoners, including Ser Fanshaw, to Captain Martinez and Patrol headquarters when they docked. Martinez wanted to see Max Lang and Michael Banner in person as well, to discuss the details of their kidnapping, so it was likely to be a while before he and Banner could spend some quality time together.

"Is it okay if I go to your quarters?" Banner asked him. "I'd really like a shower."

"Of course, make yourself at home. Borrow anything you need." Alan assured him, wishing he could follow. He sighed unconsciously and refocussed on the task in front of him.

"Once you finish that, Stewart," Almeida said blandly, "We could probably do without you for half an hour. You might like to check Medic Banner has everything he needs."

Alan didn't need to be told twice. "Thank you, sir!"

Banner was standing under the shower which was programmed to constantly recycle, letting the hot water wash away the stresses of the night, when he felt a cold draft on his wet back.

"Can I come in?"

Alan's low voice sent shivers up his spine. He turned and smiled. Taking that as an invitation, Alan stepped into the cubicle, already naked, his arousal brushing Banner's stomach as he took him into his arms. He kissed Michael fiercely, releasing the fear that had gripped him ever since he had known the kidnappers had captured him. "Are you alright?" he murmured. "They didn't hurt you?" His hands were stroking him as he spoke, up and down his arms and shoulders, seeking reassurance. "I was so frightened."

"I'm fine," Banner responded, unaccountably breathless, looking up into the tawny brown eyes searching his, saw them change from anxiety to desire as protectiveness was replaced by passion. He dropped his gaze to Alan's well muscled chest, drops of water glistening on crisp curly brown hair and licked his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.

Alan groaned and slipped his hands round to cup Banner's curved buttocks, pressing their hips hard against each other, kneading and squeezing. He felt Banner's arousal touching his and rocked against him, pushing Banner up against the wall of the shower without even realising he had moved, until his own hands were mashed against the metal wall.

He was going too fast, being too forceful, he had to slow down. His heart was racing a million kays an hour, his breathing harsh and ragged. For a moment there he had almost lost control. Who was he kidding? He had totally lost control. True, Michael wasn't protesting but he needed to be more gentle. "Would you turn around for me?"

Michael looked at him wide-eyed, and swallowed. Alan was a big man and he was heavily aroused. Before he could answer, Alan hastened to reassure him, "I won't try and enter you, I promise! I just want to uh ... you'll see. Trust me?"

Michael turned around without another word. Alan felt a wave of tenderness wash through him, damping down the almost frenzied need he had felt only a second ago to possess Banner. God he loved this man. More gently now, he dropped light kisses along his shoulders and up the side of his throat, then ran his hands down his smooth back until they cupped his buttocks again, softly stroking this time. "You are so beautiful, Michael," he whispered. The water poured over both of them in a continuous silky stream.

Alan leant around Banner, took both his hands in his and placed them on the wall in front of them, bending him forward slightly. Then he held Michael's hips and pushed himself slowly between his legs until he rubbed against his balls from behind. Back and forth. Involuntarily Michael's thighs clenched around him, riding him. Alan reached around again and circled Banner with his right hand. He was hot and hard and wet.

"Is that okay?" asked Alan after a minute, in a hoarse voice.

"Huh?" Was Alan crazy? Michael could scarcely think, he could only feel, the cold metal against his palms, the hot slick friction of Alan's hand, the hard slap of his thighs against his legs and buttocks. Not to mention ... he was about to go over the edge.

"Are you okay?" his lover asked again. The idiot actually sounded worried. If Alan stopped now he'd have to kill him.

"Yes! Oh yes!"

Alan's own shout came a second later.