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Blake remembered hearing somewhere - an old song possibly - that love is the sweetest thing. The thing that the song had omitted to mention was that whether love was sweet or not depended on whom one was in love with. Love may indeed be sweet for some people, but the object of their affections was not likely to be a computer technician of forbidding aspect and more than usually unpleasant manner. Nor could Blake understand why he had fallen for Avon in this way. He had usually had good sense in his choice of lovers, which Avon was not; better than this destructive affection anyway. He sighed into his glass. Soma, provided by Vila, who had stolen it from the medlab when Cally's back was turned.
It was time they rested, he knew she was right. They were all living on their nerves and eventually something was going to give. A pity, therefore, that the Federation wouldn't wait while the rebels took a couple of weeks on a resort planet; their atrocities would continue no matter what.
Time to tell the others. He stood and washed his glass at the small sink in the galley; no point leaving soma-stained evidence around for Cally to find.
*******
The planet they had eventually chosen was in a quiet backwater, if the Federated Universe could be said to have such a thing. Predictably, Vila had wanted to go to a full scale pleasure planet despite all the attendant possibilities of discovery, for Servalan had done as she had threatened to do and 'clamped down' on such places. Equally predictably, offered the chance to rest and recuperate Avon had wanted to stay aboard the ship with Orac and Zen and continue his 'research'. No one had ever dared ask what he was researching, and no-one did now. Avon was also more successful in getting his way and remained aboard the Liberator.
Blake hoped that Avon was having a lovely time up there all on his own. He pulled a sour face. As he was alone Avon was almost certainly having a lovely time; in all his life Blake had never met anyone who needed people less. He wondered at his own level of trust. Leaving Avon on board ship seemed to some people - Jenna for instance - the height of madness. However Blake trusted Avon completely though why he wasn't sure. Possibly it was because despite all his harsh words Avon had never actually done anything to make him question that trust.
Seeing 'Fearless Leader' at a loss for anything to do, Vila had offered to show him how to enjoy himself and Blake, amused by the delta's cheek, had accepted He also had the curious feeling that deltas could show alphas more than the alphas usually admitted, one of these things being how to have fun - though looking round at the slightly hysterical 'fun of the fair' he was not so sure. He certainly didn't want to make himself sick on one of the 'Fastest Rides in the Universe' or 'Real Physical Thrill' machines that promised an 'Actual Event'. 'Forget Sensory Stimulators' they trumpeted 'This is the real thing!' Standing outside, waiting for Vila to finish his ride, Blake read this, feeling he had more than enough real excitement in his life without needing to pay anyone to provide more. The thing he marveled at was that Vila could hold on to the enormous lunch Blake had paid for; he doubted he'd be able to.
*******
With little to do his eye was drawn to a small tent some way away, and he wandered over to have a look. The tent was patched here and there as if its owner tried to make the best of things in an unfair world. There was a painted sign over the door; the lettering was faded by years of bad weather and worse luck and seemed to be in some sort of ancient script. After a few moments concentration Blake could just make out the words "The Dream Seller".
He thought about this for a few moments. The noise of the fair seemed muffled, the screams of the people on the rides, the cries of the hawkers of games of chance and skill, the sellers of sweets and candies, the crying of children was still present but distant, muted as if on the other side of the hill - or back in the past like a thing remembered
Blake considered for a few moments more then he pushed the tent flap aside; he knew that if Vila's ride finished he'd wait. He had half expected an old woman with a crystal ball, the sort one saw in books, but the person who looked up was young and to Blake's eyes of indeterminate gender.
"Greetings." The voice, however, led the rebel to suppose a male under the elaborate costume.
"Greetings," replied Blake, not knowing what else to say.
"Please sit down." The man, who sounded younger than himself, indicated the couch beside him, and Blake sat down warily.
The rebel looked round curiously. The tent seemed larger on the inside than the outside dimensions had led him to expect, and it was sumptuously furnished with hangings, couches and cushions and heated by some sort of fire on legs, the like of which Blake had never before seen.
"Do you like my charcoal burner?" the young man asked, seemingly amused.
"Is that what it is?"
"Of course. You didn't know?"
Blake shook his head dumbly and the young man smiled. "How very strange. Tell me, what 'is your name?"
"Blake, Roj Blake. And yours?"
"Cherian"
"Just that? It seems very short."
"I don't want to encumber myself with useless things and Cherian is all the name I need."
"I suppose what with travelling with the fair you wouldn't want to carry much about." Blake looked around the tent again, "You have some lovely things, though."
"Just so, Blake."
There was a silent pause while the rebel took stock of his new acquaintance. He was rather astonished that he had given Cherian his name without even thinking about it. Blake was usually more careful about divulging his identity to strangers, even on officially neutral planets there would be spies hungry for the reward being offered for him.
Finally Blake asked, "What does it mean, 'Dream Seller'?"
"That depends on the customer, on what they want. Sometimes I create a dream for someone who has lost theirs. Sometimes I show people where they left their dream. And sometimes make dreams come true. For a fee, of course."
"Oh." Blake was somewhat taken aback. "How do you decide what they want?"
"I don't, they tell me. They don't know they are telling me, but they do so all the same."
For some reason a thought, more a memory of Avon came into his mind, Avon at his most beautiful, standing in the computer room of the London holding a laser probe and cursing Blake's idealism. Pushing the thought aside, Blake wondered if he dared ask for the end of the Federation.
Cherian continued, "Of course I only sell personal dreams for one person only. Many people dream of universal peace or of the fall of governments but those dreams can't be granted."
"That seems rather unfair," commented the rebel, smiling slightly.
"Is it? It has always seemed eminently fair to me. One person's despotic ruler is the source of another's good fortune. One would wish for the end of that rule and another would wish it to continue for ever. They can't both have it, so neither can."
"I see. What about life everlasting, can you grant that?"
"Yes. But you look far too sensible a man to want it."
"I wouldn't have it if you were giving it away, but I thought I'd ask. One of the most comforting things about life is that it's finite."
Cherian considered him for few moments before asking, "Would you say you were a happy man, Blake?"
"Mostly. I'm coming what I like to do - in a sense, anyway. It's not progressing as fast as I like but one can't have everything. And materially I have anything a sensible man could want, at least at the moment. I'm far luckier than most people. I even got most of my memory back."
"Yet... I still sense an unfilled need in you."
"Yes." Blake didn't want to tell a stranger about his love for Avon, though he sensed that perhaps he should, but as an Alpha brought up on Earth he had a caution of telling anyone about his feelings that did not all come from the knowledge that to love another man was wrong, unnatural, and to make love to that man illegal. He doubted that Cherian would see it in the same way, but still he could not speak.
Blake took a deep breath, "Do you need to know what the dream is?"
"No. Sometimes it helps, but not always. In your case I don't think it's important."
"How ... how much would it cost?"
Cherian smiled. "What do you have? I set the fee according to the means of the customer."
Blake searched his pockets. Cally had warned him that he should bring plenty of money with him on his junketing with Vila. She had admitted somewhat sheepishly that she had once gone on a spree with Vila and had spent seven thousand credits in one day; Blake had stocked up accordingly. He was also surprised that he had not noticed the loss in the treasure room.
Unluckily, or perhaps luckily depending on how one looked at it, this planet was one of the few where Federation credits were not the preferred currency and it was necessary to take jewellery and other items to exchange for the local money. Blake was still holding some of these.
It occurred to him once again that he didn't know quite why he was trusting Cherian on so little evidence, but he continued the search anyway. At last he had a reasonable pile of small articles for Cherian to choose from.
Cherian frowned. "This would buy you a small town, Blake. A good thing few know you carry such wealth or you would be beset by footpads and all manner of thieves."
"I carry my own thieves with me." Blake smiled, thinking of Vila and Cally and the seven thousand credits.
"I should think that you would have to," replied Cherian, seriously. "I'll take this," he pulled a ring from the pile, "and this," here a necklace, silver and amethyst. "This is rather lovely," he pointed out a pearl necklace, "and it is very old, but disposing of it would pose a problem for me. I'll take this," he pulled out a heavy gold bracelet.
"What about this?" Blake dangled a necklace of clear stones from his fingertips.
Cherian smiled. "That is the Empress Eugenie necklace. Beautiful, but impossible to sell. It is said the women who wear it die a horrible death."
"And the men?"
"No man's ever worn it, and I doubt your beloved would want to."
Blake blushed.
Cherian patted his cheek. "I know
After a few moments Blake met Cherian's 'a eyes, "Can you give me dream?"
"Certainly, Blake. And some free advice: he needs kindness more than you know. And don't be in too much of a hurry for things to change. Remember, time's on your side."
********
No-one asked where all Blake's money had gone; he had to admit there were advantages to being 'Fearless Leader', few though those were, despite what Avon said. He was annoyed at himself for being taken in by a charlatan even though with the Liberator's treasure room he could well afford the few baubles it had cost. He could just imagine what Avon would say if he knew and winced inwardly
The fight against the Federation continued apace. Blake knew that to stand a chance of changing anything the disparate groups forming 'the rebellion' had to work together; he did not expect them to form a cohesive whole as he knew that was an impossibility, but it would be a help if they weren't working against one another - if one group wasn't undermining the achievements of others.
To this end he had set a course for Levellin and was explaining to his crew his reasons for doing so, to their obvious disbelief.
"Think of it as an extension of your holiday," he finished with relief, for none of them had interrupted.
"It won't be an extension of mine," commented Avon drily
Blake took a deep breath to rake a sarcastic reply, then thought again. "Did you have a pleasant time?" he asked quite calmly.
Avon narrowed his eyes again, as if wondering what he was being set up for. "Yes, thank you, Blake. It was very peaceful."
"Good. Then I suggest that you and I go to Levellin and the others stay on board to take the ship out if anything happens."
"You mean if any pursuit ships arrive," said Vila, morosely.
"That's right."
Avon sighed and Blake locked at him in concern, "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing. Well, nothing much. I just can't see the logic of sending you and me down to make contact with these rebels. I would have thought in all the universe we were the least likely to be able to negotiate a settlement between them and Chevrain
Blake felt his hackles start to rise at Avon's tone but forced himself to calm slightly. "Can you think of anyone better?"
"Just about anyone, but specifically Cally and Jenna."
"Why?"
"They're women
Now it was Blake's turn to sigh, "I know they're women Avon. What of it?"
"The natives of Levellin are a matriarchy," Avon pointed cut, "You told us so yourself. Women are far more likely to be listened to than men, which is no doubt why Avalon was successful."
"Thank you, Avon. All right, Cally and Jenna will make contact arid the rest of us will stay aboard to mind the ship. Any other questions?"
There were none, but as Blake left the flightdeck he saw Jenna lean over from the pilot station to call Avon some unpleasant name he didn't quite catch. Blake smiled.
********
"Is there something wrong between you and Avon?" Vila asked. He and Blake were alone on the flightdeck at the start of an early watch.
"What do you mean?" Blake looked at him, rather surprised.
"You two haven't had a real row for weeks. You've had the odd spat, I don't deny, but you haven' t been going at it hammer and tongs since we had those few days off. Which was a sight too long ago, now I care to think about it."
"I can't imagine. Maybe we're just going through a quiet spell. And what have a hammer and tongs to do with it?"
"Figure of speech, Blake. Relic of my upbringing."
"Oh."
It was not until later that Blake realised he had not answered Vila's question, and when he did he also noticed how easily he had put Vila off. Getting the thief to drop unwelcome lines of enquiry was usually more difficult.
As he was wondering about it Avon entered, distracting him as only he could. If anything over the last few weeks the tech had become even more beautiful and Blake was quite weak from wanting him - not that Avon seemed to have noticed. The tech held out a hardcopy printout. "You wanted this."
"Yes. Thank you." Blake looked it over rapidly. "You've worked hard on this, Avon."
"Yes".
"I do appreciate it." Avon didn't seem to know quite what to say in reply to this, and Blake looked up. "I mean it Avon, you've put a lot of time into this."
"Most of one watch," the tech admitted after a. pause. "Is it of assistance?"
"Yes. It will help us to build on the work that Cally and Jenna did on Levellin. We've managed to get Chevrain's group and the one Avalon was working with to work together finally, and that frees Avalon for more useful things. And they're actually assisting one another, which is far better than I had even hoped."
"Oh. Good."
Blake put the hardcopy down and reached out, taking Avon's hand. "Avon, what's wrong."
"Nothing."
"There's something, what is it? Are you ill?" Without thinking Blake squeezed the tech's hand, quite gently.
Avon muttered something about being tired. Blake didn't quite catch it all, only the gist. He said; "Perhaps you should get some sleep." He was a little awkward. Selfishly, he didn't want Avon to go.
Avon said, "I can't sleep," quite softly.
"What do you mean?"
"I lie down. I even close my eyes. But I can't sleep, don't you understand that? I just…can't."
"But you are tired?"
"Blake," Avon started to sound annoyed, "I've been awake now for seventy-two hours. Of course I'm tired. But I can't sleep."
There wasn't much by way of comfort in a Liberator cabin, and looking round didn't conjure anything from thin air. Blake stood and led Avon over to the bed.
"What are we doing?" Avon asked.
"I'm not sure. Take your jacket off and lie down."
"What?"
"Do it, Avon. Please?"
Perhaps it was a measure of how tired he was, but after a moment's hesitation Avon did as he was asked. Blake followed suit and indicated that Avon should lie down, then did so himself.
"What have you got planned, Blake?"
"Nothing I remember when I was very small and couldn't sleep for some childish reason my mother would say that what I needed was company. So I'm offering you company. You can talk if you want, but you don't have to." Blake dimmed the lights in the cabin to a faint glow.
A long measure of silence followed. Suddenly Avon said, "I have a question for you."
"Hmmm?"
"Do you like me, Blake?"
"Yes."
"Not: 'Of course, why do you need to ask?' Or: "Don't be silly, Avon.'"
"No. But don't ask me 'Why?' or 'How much?' because I don't have answers to those sorts of questions."
"I have always thought you hated me."
Blake moved as if to look at him, but it was too dark. "Why should you think that?"
There was a silence as if Avon was considering what he should he said, "You ignored my suggestions."
"Did I? Perhaps it was the tone in which you made them."
"Perhaps."
Blake was almost dropping off to sleep when he felt Avon grip his hand powerfully. "What is it?" he asked, alarmed
"There' s something looking at me from the corner of the room."
Blake didn't quite know what to say. In the end he said, There isn't, Avon. Really."
"There is!"
"There's nothing there. And even if there is I'll deal with it, I promise."
"How can you make promises like that?" '
"Easily."
Avon shivered and moved closer still, "There's something there."
"Tell me about it."
"I'm not sure you want to know, but ... "Avon took a deep breath "It's quite small, black and shiny and nasty. I know it's nasty, I've seen it before and it'll start coming towards me soon. It's started. What shall I do?"
Now it came to it, Blake was not quite sure what he should do about something that patently (to him) was not there. "Just lie still" he said, comfortingly. "Let it get closer, it'll disappear soon." He waited for what seemed like an age then asked, "Has it gone?"
"Yes. But…"
"There's something else?"
"You're bored with me."
"Far from it. Tell me about it."
"What?" In the darkness Avon' s eyes were wide and vague.
"Whatever it is you can see."
"It's gone."
"Good." It seemed Avon could be distracted from his visions, or whatever they were, and Blake smiled. Then he frowned, he didn't know why Avon was having these delusions or illusions. They couldn't be normal or natural. And that was worrying.
Avon's hands tightened on his arms. "Something else!"
"Yes, go on."
"It's a bear. It's very big, horrible and hairy and black. I can hear it breathing."
"Nasty. Are all the things you see black?"
"Usually. Why?" Avon's reaction to direct questions was as his normal self, not the scared child he seemed to become when in the throes of a vision.
"What colour are they when they're not black?"
"Brown. Once purple."
"Just once?" Blake smiled.
"Yes. I took... drugs. A more chequered past than even you suspected, Blake?" There was a touch of bravado to Avon's words, as if he expected Blake to be shocked.
"I never thought about it," admitted BIake. "Has it gone?"
"Yes. They've never gone away so fast."
"They're obviously frightened of me." Blake chuckled, softly.
"Yes."
Blake could hear that Avon was smiling into the darkness. He slid an arm round Avon's waist arid pulled him into his arms, surprised that after all his weeks of wanting he felt little sexual arousal, only a need to comfort.
Avon rested there, warm but still obviously a little scared. Blake sighed. It was clear Avon had been awake for far longer than the seventy-two hours he had claimed; he must be if he were having hallucinations. Or maybe the hallucinations were the result of something else, but what?
After a while Blake slackened his hold. Clutching Avon to him was making his arms ache. It was then he realised Avon had relaxed somewhat and was actually asleep.
********
Blake woke next morning with no clear idea when he had slept, or any real recollection that he had done so though it was clear he must have. Avon was still asleep, and was lying beside him eyes closed looking far too beautiful for Blake's peace of mind.
Avon moved, not restlessly but merely as one deeply asleep moves to prove he is still alive. Blake smiled and allowed himself to touch Avon's marvellous thick hair. It was as soft as it looked, the strands fine on his fingertips arid feeling almost like gossamer. He wondered what he should do; he didn't want to wake Avon by moving and yet he had things requiring his attention. He thought about that for a moment, then decided there was nothing that couldn't wait at least until the start of his watch when he would have to get up.
In the end it proved not to be necessary. Avon stretched and woke naturally a couple of hours later. Feeling him move recalled Blake from his light doze, and he smiled, at his companion
"Blake?"
"Yes. Avon?"
Blake smiled again more experimentally "You remember how you came to be here?"
"I remember I couldn't sleep. You told me I needed company."
"Yes."
"It seems you were right. Thank you." Avon looked uneasy and his words came awkwardly. "I hope I didn't say anything to worry you."
"No. Well, you seemed to be seeing visions. Perhaps I shouldn't have told you..." Blake trailed off as he recognised what he knew to be one of Avon's more dangerous looks.
The tech sat up slowly. "If I go beyond a…certain point I start seeing…things. It's just something that happens if I can' t sleep."
"But what causes the insomnia in the first place?"
"No-one is too sure. When I was a child I was hyperactive, you know, one of those appalling children who never sleep and can be sick at will, that sort of thing. I've never slept properly, or what other people would call properly. It seems to get worse when I'm under stress."
"I think you need less stress. then."
Avon chose not to see the joke. "Don't be ridiculous."
The rebel sat up rather faster than Avon had. "Ridiculous?"
"Yes. What about the federation?"
"Oh. Them."
"As you so rightly say, 'Oh. Them.'"
Blake thought for a moment. "Well, I've only one thing to suggest in that case."
"And that is?"
When you can't sleep, come and sleep with me."
Avon looked at Blake, bestowing one of the rare smiles that took the place of laughter, with him. "Blake, people would think we were…"
"Were what?"
"Sleeping together."
"Well, we would be, wouldn't we?" Blake almost laughed at the expression on Avon's face.
After a time it became a habit; as soon as overwork had driven Avon to the point when he could no longer sleep easily he took refuge with Blake. It seemed indeed that Blake's room and Blake's bed were his own, or an extension of his own; he didn't usually knock before entering, and nor did Blake expect him to.
This was his undoing. A close escape from Federation pursuit culminated in a systems burnout meaning long hours for Avon in the computer room, he being the only person capable of performing the task of repair. To Avon, it meant only that after a time his mind ran on and on and he was helpless. When he finally came to the point when he felt able to stop he headed for Blake's cabin knowing that there lay the only hope for a rest.
It was Cally, in some matters the bravest of then, who saw him and approached Avon on the subject. Talking to Blake would have been easier but she rejected the easy way as the coward's way. And she knew that were her suspicions correct Avon would blame Blake for having let their secret out, and that would create complications.
After all, even revolutionaries and embezzlers had a right to a measure of happiness, and she had no desire to spoil it. But she was curious.
So when she saw Avon again during the next watch she took the opportunity when alone with him to open up the subject. "How is Blake?" she asked.
Avon looked up. Sensitive on the subject already, he could see where that opening would lead. "Well enough when I last saw him," he replied.
"This morning?" She was being daring, and knew it.
"Yes." He knew they had been rumbled; what he didn't know was how. " I take it you've been watching us."
"I saw you go into his cabin. Without warning him."
"Would you believe I go there to sleep? No, I see you wouldn't. But it does happen to be true." He paused, tapping his laser probe on the edge of the console. "I don't know why I'm bothering to talk to anyone about this."
Avon being Avon that closed the subject.
*******
Avon gave the matter some considerable thought, then sought Blake out, eventually finding him in cabin accessing statistics on the personal console he kept there. He was a little surprised to see Avon back so soon; usually the tech avoided him for a time after sharing a bed, as if he shied away from the intimacy. "To what do owe the pleasure?" he queried, amused.
"Cally thinks were sleeping together." Avon didn't believe in sparing people bad news.
"We are. Off and on."
Avon favoured him with one of his most supercilious looks. "You know what I mean."
"You would be the last person I would expect to take refuge in euphemism You mean she thinks we're having sex."
"Yes, that is what I mean."
Blake stared down, seeing his feet and the metal of the deck, and wondered what to say.
In the end Avon spoke. "I don't mind being suspected of something I've done: I hate being suspected of something I haven't done," he remarked his tone conversational. Blake wasn't quite sure he understood and stared in disbelief. Avon slid his fingers up the wall of Blake's chest and up the side of his neck into his hair. He pulled the other men gently towards his mouth. "I mean," he said, "if you ask nicely we can have sex."
"Oh, Avon, please."
"Does that mean 'Avon can we have sex please?"
"Yes."
"Well, in that case, of course we can. One other thing…" Avon paused to allow them to kiss.
"Yes?" said Blake, distractedly.
"Fuck me. Hard."
Blake gave him a startled look. He would never have expected a request like that from such a quarter. "If you like ... "
Naked, Avon's body was smooth and pale, like alabaster but warm. He was compact rather than slim and unexpectedly well muscled. He reacted reassuringly strongly to Blake's erotic stroking and kneading of him. His penis came erect and darkened to a rose-red. Blake couldn't resist it; he bent to take it into his mouth and teased it with his tongue, hearing Avon moan out loud as he did so. That caused his own cock to harden that little bit more and he himself moaned quietly. Pulling away, he stripped quickly, then returned his attention to Avon.
Still sucking on Avon's cock Blake reached for the cream he kept in the drawer in his bedside table and slicked his fingers with it. These he slid inside Avon who cried out in response to the almost unbearable stimulation. "Fuck me, Blake. Roj, do it, please. Fuck me."
He waited until Avon's cries were almost continuous then positioned his cock for entry and pushed his way in.
For one heartstopping moment he thought Avon's cry as he entered him was pain, then realised it was combination of fulfilled desire and lust for more.
"Please Roj, more. Right in me, please more." Avon's panting cries were all he could hear, the heat and tightness round his cock was all he could feel. Avon, the feral beauty of him, was all he was aware of.
He thrust deeply into Avon fucking him hard as hard as he was capable of, and the harder he thrust the more Avon seemed to want it. He could feel that he was as deep into Avon as he could possibly go, and could also feel the spasms starting deep inside his partner - enough to push him over the edge, his seed spurting into the depths of Avon's body.
With concern he heard Avon groan. Blake asked, "Are you all right? I was rather rough with you, I'm sorry."
"I'm not. I asked you to fuck me hard and you did. Thank you." Blake smiled, but looked away. He said, "Avon ... " and words failed him.
Avon waited for a moment, then said, "Yes?"
"I..... er... Avon, I..."
"Yes?"
"Avon, I ... love you. I 'm sorry, I had to tell you."
"I'm not going to throw you out of bed for it so you needn't look quite so concerned. Blake…" Avon leaned forward and allowed his lips to touch Blake's.
"Yes?" Blake whispered.
"The feeling's mutual."
--
The End
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