Don't Move

We’re going to die, Sheba thought. No question, this time we’re going to die. Starbuck was probably already drinking ambrosia with the Beings of Light – his body was dead weight between her and Apollo as they dragged him through the drifting, stinging snow. She shifted, trying to get under him and bear more of the burden, but Apollo took the brunt of it, practically pulling both of them through the night. A blast of frigid air tore her breath away and it was almost too much trouble to take in another. Order a round, Bucko, she thought, we’ll be there soon.

It took her a few seconds to realize they weren’t moving anymore, and then Apollo was shoving her through the circular entrance to the survival pod they had left in what seemed like a different lifetime. She and Apollo dropped Starbuck to the floor and collapsed next to him, breathing hard. The warmth and dim light of the heating element in the small enclosure were like a glimpse of heaven.

“The next time we’re stranded planet-side in a blizzard and Starbuck decides to check the perimeter, we’re leaving him out there,” she panted.

“Agreed.”

“How did you find the shelter again?” She sat up and glanced over at Apollo, who hadn’t opened his eyes.

“An unfailing sense of direction. Dumb luck. I don’t know.” He looked over at Starbuck who lay face down on the floor. “Is he - ?”

This last was said with an anxiety Sheba could almost touch. She started to turn Starbuck onto his back, and Apollo sat up to help.

“Alive,” Sheba said grimly, pulling the scarf from his face and touching his neck. “Steady pulse, but gods, is he cold.” She rapidly pulled the zipper of Starbuck’s fur parka down and tried to pull the coat from his arms, but her own hands were leaden.

“Help me with him,” she told Apollo, who lifted Starbuck up so she could pull the parka free.

When she reached for the closure of Starbuck’s uniform shirt Apollo said, “Shouldn’t you leave it? For warmth?”

“Pol, his clothes are practically frozen solid. He’ll do better under the blankets.” She glanced around the tiny shelter – a fabric survival tent barely big enough for the three of them. “At least there’s heat. And sub-zero blankets.” She pulled Starbuck’s shirt free of his pants and began opening it.

“I’ll get the heater turned up,” Apollo said after a moment, turning to adjust the settings.

When she had finished methodically stripping the icy clothing from Starbuck’s body Sheba pulled a blanket up around his chin, studying his face worriedly. Even half-frozen he looked like some god from an old myth, she thought idly; maybe one of the impish ones who tempted mortals and stole their souls when they begged for a kiss from those perfect lips.

From which, she realized, not one sound had come. She leant down to listen. His breathing was steady, but shallow, and there was a blue-tinge to his mouth that she really didn’t like.

“This isn’t good, Apollo,” she said, sitting up straight to pull her own parka off. “He isn’t coming around. We’ve got to get his body temp up.” Apollo turned from the heater – what in Hades had he been doing over there for so long anyway? – just as she pulled her own uniform shirt over her head.

“Sheba, what are you doing?” She would have laughed at the shock in her sometimes-lover’s voice if the situation weren’t so serious.

“I told you. We need to get his body temp up, and fast. This is the best way - body heat.” She stripped down to a standard issue tank and briefs. “Come on. You, too.” When he didn’t move, she looked up in irritation. “I know it’s been awhile, but there’s nothing there I haven’t seen. If we hold him between us -”

Apollo turned away, swiping a hand over his mouth. “I can’t do this, Sheba.” The panic in his voice enraged her.

“You were willing to risk your life in that blizzard for him, but you’re going to balk at this?”

Apollo looked down, his pale face unreadable.

“He could just as easily die now,” she said softly, trying not to let her anger show. When he remained immobile, she nearly screamed in frustration. “If you’re worried about your reputation, Captain, no one is going to know - unless we bring Starbuck’s body home, in which case there will probably be questions.”

“That’s not it, Sheba,” he said softly, looking anywhere but at her and the still form beside her.

“I don’t really care what the problem is, frankly. You may outrank me, but consider this an order. Get undressed! Unless you don’t care if he dies.”

He looked up at her, startled, and the pain in his clear green eyes took her aback.

“Damn you, Apollo,” she whispered, angry that even now, after so much time had passed, he could still effect her so strongly. She slipped beneath the blanket, trying not to watch Apollo undress though every nerve in her body was now tautly aware of him.

Leaning forward she pulled Starbuck’s unmoving form into her arms, shivering at how frighteningly cold he was. “Well, Bucko,” she said softly, “you’ve been trying to get me into bed for ages. All you had to do was practically kill yourself…”

She glanced up when Apollo climbed over them, and the sight of his slim body and golden skin shot heat straight down through her belly.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You stay on this side by the heater. It’s warmer.”

Always the damned gentleman, she thought, as he lay down on Starbuck’s other side. How can he be so irritating and so endearing at the… same… time…

Sheba’s mind blanked at the sight of Apollo pulling Starbuck against his chest. Apollo leaned in, wrapping his arms around Starbuck’s waist from behind and cradling him close with a tenderness that constricted her throat. The golden head so close to the dark one stole her breath. She wanted to stare, drink in all that beauty, and at the same time turn away from something too intimate to share.

When Starbuck moaned in response to their shared heat and Apollo whispered softly, “You’re safe, we’re here,” she felt tears pricking at her eyes. Simultaneously, an unbidden mental picture of Apollo reassuring Starbuck with kisses instead of words flashed into her mind.

It’s just been too long, she thought, closing her eyes and laying her head against Starbuck’s chest. She listened to the reassuring beat of his heart, so much slower than her own racing pulse. “If we get off this iceberg, with the lords as my witness I will find Bojay and let him fuck me through a bulkhead.” With that satisfying thought, she let herself sleep.

***

Even if he was dead, he was warm, and at this point that was all that mattered. Starbuck had heard that right before you froze to death you stopped feeling the cold, so he decided to put off opening his eyes - just in case there was nothing out there but blinding white.

The fact that his arm was falling asleep, however, made him think that maybe he wasn’t out in the blizzard anymore. The warm, solid weight snuggled against his chest felt real, too. Not to mention the freaking blast furnace at his back. He opened his eyes.

Dim light, coming from a portable heating element, turned the tiny enclosure red. He looked down at the tousled auburn hair of the slender woman in his arms. Sheba. So that meant Apollo…

That explained where the heat against his back was coming from. He moved fractionally, and felt his shoulders slide against heated skin over smooth, hard muscle. Dark, tangled silk rested at the join of his shoulder and neck, soft against his lips when he turned to look. He could tell that Apollo was deeply asleep, each slow breath dancing across Starbuck’s shoulder blade like a caress.

Dear gods. Apollo was molded to him, chest and hips and thighs pressed close against Starbuck’s body, radiating heat like the backwash of a turbo rocket and searing his skin wherever their bodies touched. And they seemed to touch wherever possible, Starbuck thought dazedly. Suddenly Sheba stirred in his arms. She looked up, eyes heavy.

“Hi, hotshot.” The words were soft, slurred with sleep.

“Hi yourself.” He could barely speak over a whisper, his throat parched and aching.

“You’re alive.”

“I guess. What happened?”

She regarded him solemnly. “You missed a really good party.”

Eventually she took pity on his blank expression. “You got lost in the blizzard on this fucking iceball of a planet and once again your ass was saved by yours truly. Apollo helped.”

“Apollo?” he turned slightly as if to look at his friend, but Sheba stopped him with a hand on his cheek.

“Don’t wake him. He was a little… disturbed… by the required sleeping arrangements.”

“Oh.” Starbuck felt a sharp, keen regret.

“If he wakes up in bed with us he’ll probably try to sleep outside or something. Let him sleep.” She yawned. “Let me sleep, too. Welcome back.” With that she turned from him to face the heater, stretching out on her stomach.

Leaving him basically sleeping naked in Apollo’s arms. Bloody hell. That reality woke Starbuck completely. Hazy daydreams and late night fantasies all coalesced in Starbuck’s mind, obliterated by a red-tinged reality he’d never let himself think about for too long.

Only he was thinking about it now. Really thinking about it. And realizing that he had to move away before the urge to push back against the narrow hips cradling his body made him insane.

Carefully, slowly, he turned to lie on his back, moving into the warm space Sheba had left when she pulled away. Without waking, Apollo rolled partially onto his stomach, leaving one arm flung across Starbuck’s waist and one leg draped over Starbuck’s thighs. He felt the heat of Apollo’s body all along his arm, from his shoulder where it lay beneath Apollo’s, to the back of his hand that was tucked into the hollow of his friend’s hip.

There was nowhere else to go; Sheba was sleeping just inches away, and Apollo was already up against the back of the enclosure. Starbuck closed his eyes against the sensation of Apollo’s body practically blanketing him. It was suddenly just too much. For every stranger he had taken to his bed, for every friend he had shared his body with, there was a moment of regret that it had never been Apollo in his arms, never Apollo’s lips beneath his own. All that unspoken regret and longing - a lifetime’s worth, it felt like - welled up inside him, and Starbuck swallowed a sob.

So what now? Sleep? And waste this chance? Impossible. So maybe he couldn’t touch, but he could look, and store up the sight for later. For always. He shifted restlessly and felt Apollo’s hand move against his abdomen, warm beneath the blankets. He ruthlessly pulled his mind away from imagining those fingers drifting lower across his body and instead studied the slender, sleekly muscled curves of Apollo’s arm and shoulder where the blanket had slipped away. Apollo was so elegantly made; all long limbs and perfect lines – thanks to all that noble blood going back for ages, Starbuck thought.

With a sense of inevitability he turned his head to study his friend’s face, only inches away. He noticed how Apollo’s dark hair fell across his forehead, and how sleep smoothed the worried line between his brows, making him look impossibly young. For just a second Starbuck felt like he was looking at the tall, dark-haired boy he’d met during his first days at the Academy, brilliant and serious, always rivaling him for the top spot in class.

Gods, but Starbuck had wanted to hate him. He’d been so ready to resent Apollo’s privilege and position - son and heir to old money and an older title.

But you wouldn’t let me, he thought, listening to Apollo breathe. You didn’t realize you were supposed to hate me, too – the upstart, the orphan with no name – I wanted to fight for my place, and you wouldn’t let me. You just quietly dragged me into your life until I couldn’t imagine mine without you. He felt his throat tighten as he swept his gaze over the smooth planes of Apollo’s face, studying the inky fringe of lashes, the strong curve of his jaw, his mouth…

Starbuck’s eyes lost focus for a moment, studying Apollo’s mouth. No thin-lipped aristocrat’s genes here, he thought. No, Apollo’s mouth was sensuous, full and perfect, a mouth that made him want to beg. And so close - a tilt of his chin and he could brush his mouth across Apollo’s lips to see if they felt as silky as they looked. A warm heat rushed through him at the thought, and he closed his eyes at the sudden ache he felt. He took a deep breath to calm the racing of his heart, and when he trusted himself to look again, he found himself staring into quiet green eyes.

For long moments neither moved, gazes locked, until Starbuck tried out a shaky grin. Apollo drew a breath, about to speak, but Starbuck silenced him with a single, slight movement of his head against the blankets. Apollo glanced past Starbuck to Sheba’s deeply sleeping form, and looked back in understanding.

Still only inches from each other, Starbuck could almost feel the weight of Apollo’s worried gaze as the other man looked over his face. Starbuck knew what Apollo was feeling, could almost read his thoughts – are you okay? Are you hurt? Why did you make me worry so much?

That gentle concern combined with the aching need of his body was too much. Starbuck could only lean his head forward and touch his lips to Apollo’s in a brief, clinging brush of flesh against flesh that nevertheless sent Starbuck reeling. He felt Apollo pull back slightly and looked up to meet his shocked stare. No anger there, just a confusion and vulnerability that tore at Starbuck’s heart.

No, no, Starbuck thought, please don’t look at me like that. Wanting only to soothe, to reassure, Starbuck pressed in again. He leaned his forehead against Apollo’s and nuzzled softly against the planes of his face, sharing his breath. I just need to be near you, he said without words, using only soft kisses against Apollo’s mouth. That’s all.

Or that was all until Apollo traced the seam of Starbuck’s lips with his tongue. Unexpected hunger slammed through Starbuck, leaving him shaken. Want you, Apollo said with that touch. Want you. Feeling dazed, Starbuck swallowed a moan and opened his mouth to let Apollo in.

Apollo’s kiss was a sensual, slow mating that Starbuck wanted to drown in. On and on it went, drugging and deep, but behind the tender touch of tongue against tongue Starbuck could feel a growing urgency – it did crazy things to his body, made him want to turn their contact rough and eager. Every instinct screamed at him to drag Apollo closer, but he knew he couldn’t move without waking Sheba.

When Apollo suddenly pulled back Starbuck gasped at the loss. He realized with a shock that he had begun unconsciously brushing the backs of his fingers against the sensitive spot beneath Apollo’s hipbone. He watched the movement of Apollo’s throat as his friend swallowed hard, saw him shake his head slightly, pleading. Starbuck ignored him, slowly stroking the warm, smooth skin until Apollo’s lashes fluttered shut in response, until Apollo’s breathing grew uneven and small tremors passed through the firm muscle pressing against his hand.

Apollo’s entire body was taut, and he lay perfectly still, eyes shut and jaw tight. He was obviously fighting for control, reaching deep inside for distance. Oh no, you don’t, Starbuck thought, smiling a little. You’re not pulling back from this, from us.

So he stopped thinking, and simply slid his hand further beneath Apollo’s body, turning his palm upward. He dove forward to catch Apollo’s startled gasp in his mouth, sucking at Apollo’s lower lip and letting his teeth graze the delicate inner surface. Apollo’s eyes flew open, and he stared at Starbuck with something close to panic.

Starbuck didn’t give him time to give into it. He moved his hand up to close around heated, velvet flesh that immediately grew hard and heavy against his palm. He drove his mouth against Apollo’s with bruising force, mouthing the first word either had said aloud.

“Move.”

He felt Apollo take a single, hitching breath, and for a wild moment thought that even now Apollo would pull away. He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning when Apollo rocked forward against his hand, sliding against his palm with sweet, firm friction. The close heat of their bodies generated enough moisture to ease Apollo’s way, so smooth, rigid flesh slipped easily against Starbuck’s hand. Apollo found an unhurried, sensuous rhythm that showed Starbuck exactly how Apollo would make love – hard and deep and slow.

The sight of Apollo with his eyes closed and his expression unguarded, losing himself in pleasure, was the most erotic thing Starbuck had ever experienced. He wanted to move his hips in tandem; he wanted to drag Apollo into his arms and grind their bodies together; he wanted to rise up, push Apollo to his back, and lean over to drink him down.

But with Sheba sleeping beside him the only thing he could do was watch.

Watch, and tighten his fingers around Apollo’s hard length. Watch, and circle his thumb through the silky wetness gathering at the tip. Watch, as abruptly Apollo’s rhythm faltered, grew jerky and swift. Then with a strangled sound Apollo pushed his face helplessly against Starbuck’s and came hard, pulsing hot liquid over Starbuck’s arm.

Before Starbuck could catch his breath, Apollo was kissing him deeply, possessively, obliterating everything but his own body’s frantic need for release. The hand that had been grasping his hip, holding it still with bruising force was suddenly gone. Then he felt Apollo draw his fingers through the cooling fluid on Starbuck’s wrist.

Through a blind, red haze of want Starbuck felt Apollo smile against his mouth, and breathe two words against his lips.

“Don’t. Move.”

In one liquid movement Apollo reached down and wrapped warm, semen-slick fingers around Starbuck’s straining shaft, stroking him hard and fast. Starbuck nearly cried out, wanting to surge up into that sweet pressure, but he forced himself to lie still. His world narrowed down to Apollo’s lips sliding over his own and Apollo’s agile fingers on his cock. When Apollo brought him to sudden, searing completion, the intense pleasure and the strain of remaining silent made his sight white-out and scatter into bright bits that only slowly drifted back into place.

When he could see again Apollo was grinning at him, and he felt his heart turn over. Suddenly he didn’t care about waking Sheba anymore – the only thing that mattered was pulling Apollo into his arms. He came to Starbuck easily, fitting their bodies together beneath the blankets, resting his head on Starbuck’s shoulder. Starbuck leaned his cheek against Apollo’s hair and then turned to bury his face in the soft strands.

“S’everything okay?” Sheba’s voice was a husk of sound, clawing its way up out of sleep.

Starbuck felt Apollo tense in his arms, then felt the vibration of Apollo’s voice against his chest when he spoke. “Fine, Sheba. Go back to sleep.”

In the silence following Apollo’s words Starbuck relaxed and pulled Apollo closer. Sheba raised her head, pulling herself up on her elbows to look at them through squinted eyes.

“Okay,” she rasped. “But next time? You have to let me watch.”

With that she lay down again, turning away to leave Apollo practically choking and Starbuck laughing aloud. Starbuck looked down at Apollo, the grin still lingering on his lips, and saw Apollo’s answering smile fade to sadness.

There would never be a next time. Starbuck didn’t need to hear it to know. Between regulations and the chain of command, running for their lives and living with several thousand other refugees, they would probably never even get a chance to talk about it.

It didn’t matter, though, because now he could hear what Apollo had always been telling him, and what he’d been telling Apollo right back without even knowing it.

Love you. Without words and without regret. Love you so much.