Fic: Seven Days to the Wolves (JA/JDM) Sex Corps (1/4)
Title: Seven Days to the Wolves
Author: Epeeblade
Word count: 27,000+
Genre: AU, RPS, slash, kink, sci-fi
Pairing(s): JA/JDM
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Status: Complete. Last part will be posted by Monday at the latest. Just waiting on copyedits.
Warnings/keywords: explicit sexual content, bdsm, spanking, collars, humiliation, piercing, begging, toys, implied slavery
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This in no way depicts the real lives of Jensen Ackles or any of the other actors featured therein.
Series: This is part of the Sex Corps verse. Chronologically it comes immediately after Whoever Brings the Night although reading Amaranth might help with understanding the universe.
Notes: This series started out as a simple birthday fic written for lapillus and now I think I have her Christmas gift covered too. She's been so kind as to beta for me. All mistakes are my own.
Title comes from a Nightwish song.
Summary: Lt. Ackles teaches Commander Morgan a few things about submission as they get ready for the rescue mission.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
Seven Days to the Wolves
By Epeeblade
Jeff woke as the gentle artificial lighting brightened his quarters to mimic dawn, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other stretching out across the empty expanse of bed. He hadn't gone to bed alone, and for a moment, he hesitated, listening for perhaps the sound of the shower. The normal, low hum of the ship's air-recycler permeated the room, but nothing else sounded through his quarters - and though they were the larger rooms reserved for senior staff, the bedroom wasn't that large. No, clearly Lt. Ackles had better things to do than wait around to answer any questions Jeff might have had after the first time they had been intimate.
He flicked the set of restraints still attached to the headboard, the metal making an odd clinking sound against the industrial plastic. Jeff had used cuffs to restrain war criminals, AWOL soldiers, and even a civilian or two, but they had never made it into his bedroom. It never occurred to him to actually try such a thing - handcuffs and headboards were a kinky joke, no one actually did that, right?
Well, apparently, people did do it plenty. They did it enough to justify an entire branch of the military centered around sex. Jeff had never thought his military career would go quite in that direction, but he couldn't have predicted what had happened on the disastrous first contact mission to 328. Nothing had prepared him for encountering an entire society based on kinky sex. That, of course, explained how he had failed so spectacularly, and managed to get two of his men taken prisoner and held until he had proved himself a worthy master, whatever that meant.
Ackles, however, supposedly knew and could coach Jeff in the proper way to behave. He slid out of bed, nearly tripping over the flogger left on the floor and he hopped on his bare feet around the bed, catching his hand on his desk for balance. One of the digital frames fell over and the picture winked out. Lucky Ackles had left -- otherwise he'd have been witness to Jeff's sudden post coital clumsiness. Jeff wondered if that was protocol for the Scuts - never stay the full night with whomever you're fucking at the time. He didn't know, and honestly, Jeff had never expected to be ordered into having sex with anyone.
Jeff stood the frame back up, tapping it when it seemed frozen on a single image. He wondered if it would be enough, when it all came down to it. Sure, Ackles was sex on legs, and bedding him wasn't a hardship, but how the hell could they meet the Queen's very exacting standards when Jeff himself wasn't even sure what she meant?
The mission had started out nearly perfect, the shuttle had landed just outside the city,- a golden expanse of spiraling towers and soaring bridges, more suited to a child's fairy tale than a former UP colony. He put the science team to work doing the environmental analysis, and took his four best people to the wall surrounding the city with a set of gates as tall as the ones on the shuttle-bay and as long as a football field.
They hadn't expected the gate to open at their arrival, nor to be greeted by a group of men in wild outfits - forest green capes and golden armor, with sandals that tied up to their knees. The spears they held looked deadly, but Jeff felt confident he could draw his blaster and fire before one of them got close. He stepped forward to introduce himself, holding the translator-box in one hand to repeat the words in several different languages, if they didn't understand.
Luckily, it seemed this colony had been founded by speakers of English, although that didn't explain the ancient outfits. One of the men had stepped forward, "You come from beyond the stars?"
"Yes," Jeff said, glad that he didn't have to worry about the language barrier. "I come on behalf of my government. We would like to speak with whoever has authority in your city."
"The Queen is the mistress of us all," another of the soldiers said.
"Then we would like to speak with her," Dr. Karl Johnson, Jeff's anthropologist for this mission, stepped next to Jeff and took over. Jeff let him, it was Johnson's job to figure out whatever culture had formed up in the 300 years contact had been cut off from Earth and the UP.
The man in front motioned to one of his men, who nodded and stepped back behind the wall. "Leon will send for the tram. You must request audience with the Queen, but I can take you to a waiting room."
"Thank you," Johnson said simply. Jeff flicked at the comm port at his ear and updated Sergeant Massee on their progress. They were going in.
The moment they stepped through the doorway, Jeff felt almost as if he walked through water, his motions slow and distorted. He stepped foot on the other side as if bursting free from a swimming pool, nearly stumbling onto the ground with the shock of it. Jeff turned to make sure his people were all right and watched, astonished, as their blasters were pulled off their bodies by an unseen force and into the waiting hands of the guards.
The leader nodded and touched his spear, which shimmered for a moment, then collapsed upon itself, shrinking from six feet to a mere few inches. He clasped it on his belt and nodded at Jeff. "Your weapons will be returned when you are proven trustworthy."
"Sir," Lt. Caroline Chikezie said, holding out her scanner. Jeff got her point, they had been able to distinguish their weapons from their diagnostic equipment somehow. He'd never seen technology that could do that, and then remove said weapons with an unseen force.
"I assume you'll put yours away too, then?" Jeff drawled, tilting his head towards the other guards who still held their spears.
The guy in charge smiled, and then nodded. Jeff got to watch again as the men collapsed their weapons and hooked the miniature versions on their belts. So much for a primitive culture, he thought. How the hell had this colony come so far in such a short time?
"We will escort you to the tram."
The guard fell into formation around them, causing Jeff's hackles to rise, but there was nothing he could do about it but stay on guard. Jeff and his team were the strangers here; he couldn't blame these people for playing it like this. As he watched Johnson attempt to make conversation with the soldier nearest him, Jeff thought this would work just fine, they could pump the grunts for information before seeing this Queen.
And then they entered the city good and proper and Jeff had to catch his breath. The road, a road of mosaic tile that glittered in the sunlight, broadened as they walked, the sheer golden walls giving way to mismatched buildings, painted bright colors, and gardens of rich green. Spouts of water rose from a fountain in the center of the square, the water dancing in arcs and patterns that defied gravity. Jeff could see the towers in the distance still so far away.
He noticed it when Johnson stiffened beside him and Jeff tensed, fingers twitching for the blaster no longer at his side. His eyes shifted to where the anthropologist looked, surprised at the sight; a crowd of people had gathered around a stage, set off from the side of the fountain watching what at first Jeff took for a play, until his vision adjusted. A very naked man stood bound, arms attached to ropes connected to a beam overhead, legs spread wide and also bound to either side of the stage. A woman stood behind him, her arm drawn back as she beat him with a small leather object too small to be a whip. The man cried out, but instead of pleading for clemency as Jeff expected, he begged for one more stroke.
The guards led them towards the other side of the fountain, away from the disturbing tableau, and Jeff forced himself to focus on the mission. The tram the leader had spoken of waited for them, looking like a red and gold bus, with long windows along the side. More of the locals stood around, staring at Jeff and his team with open curiosity on their faces. Several people knelt instead of stood, and Jeff noticed that all of the people on their knees wore collars around their necks.
A young woman separated from the crowd, and ran towards them. She wore a pure white tunic belted around her waist, and a yellow collar nearly concealed by her waves of blond hair. Jeff didn't know what to expect when she stopped in front of the commander of the guards and performed a cute little bow. And then she called him "master."
Jeff tilted his head to catch what the leader said to her, his words were nearly inaudible.
"You should be resting," he said.
She frowned at him. "You worry too much. I am quite well."
"Allow me my worry, love. You shouldn't be here."
"I came for my kiss," she said. "You left without waking me."
"How could I have forgotten that?" The guard curved his hand around her cheek and she leaned into his touch. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then whispered something Jeff couldn't hear and she laughed, before bowing again. When she turned to go, the guard slapped her ass, to the laughter of the rest of the guard.
Jeff exchanged a look with Lt. Caroline Chikezie, who merely rolled her eyes. Johnson's face flushed a dark red and Jeff put a hand on his arm in warning. They still had to get on that tram.
Major Tappen turned to the guard he had been befriending during the walk. "Who drives the tram?"
The guard laughed. "Harmony drives everything."
"You specialize in being cryptic, don't you?" Tappen said.
A small smile was the only reply.
Jeff stepped inside the tram and took one of the seats lining the walls, blinking against the bright crimson décor. Tappen sat next to his new friend, the two continuing their conversation. Johnson sat next to Jeff, and he didn't look happy at all. Chikezie and Brown sat across from them, Chikezie frowning down at her scanner. Jeff turned to look out the window, waiting for them to be on their way, only to find that not only had the tram started moving already, but they had taken to the air.
He gasped, shocked as they made their way over those fantastic bridges and around the bright towers, finally seeing the cornflower blue of the ocean that bordered the other side of the city.
"Brilliant!" Chikezie murmured, entranced by view out the window and he couldn't help but agree.
All too soon, their ride was over, the tram hovered near the balcony of one of the towers and the doors peeled open.
"You may wait here until the Queen summons you," the leader of the guard said, pulling open a set of glass doors leading into a room.
"Thank you," Jeff told him, taking the lead and ensuring the room was safe for the rest of his team.
"This place is absolutely nuts," Tappen said, once their escort had left them in this waiting room.
Jeff took his time wandering around the room, checking for listening devices, cameras or any more of that oddly advanced technology they had encountered from the moment they had stepped in the city. The room seemed designed for comfort with plush carpet, plenty of low seating covered with pillows, fresh fruit sat on the low table in the center, and a pitcher next to it circled by tiny golden cups. Jeff wondered if it contained water or wine. Whoever had decorated the room adorned it with the splendor of colors they had seen throughout the city bright golds, rich reds, forest greens, from the pattern in the carpet, to the fabric of the couches.
On the far side of the room Jeff noticed some wooden structures he could not name, one in the shape of a large X, the other seemed very close to a yoke and the third was a chair with a winged back. All were done in the same dark red wood in evidence throughout the room.
"It's like," Tappen snapped his fingers. "That old 2D movie, the Wizard and something? You ever seen it?"
"Saw the 3d remake, from '68," Brown answered, he stationed himself near the windows, pulling the gauzy fabric of the curtains away to look out into the balcony area.
"I don't think what we're witnessing is magic," Johnson said. He had grown increasingly agitated as their journey had continued, and Jeff knew it had something to do with the scene they had witnessed near the fountain. It had disturbed Jeff as well, but he'd seen things far more upsetting on the border during the war.
Jeff tested his comm, which worked even in the very heart of this city and took the opportunity to check in with the rest of his crew. Massee reported all was well; none of the guards had even ventured out to look at the landed shuttle. "Next check in at 1500," Jeff said. If they hadn't heard from him, Jeff knew Massee could be relied on to get the rest of the team back to the Mercury safely.
Lt. Chikezie picked up the pitcher and sniffed at it. “It smells like water,” she said. “But I’ll run the scanner over it.”
“It could be drugged with something we haven’t discovered yet,” Johnson said.
“Are you always this much of a pessimist?” Jeff asked, wondering at the sudden behavior change in his normally even-tempered anthropologist. He wished he had time to take the man aside and have a word, but in this room his words couldn't be hidden from the others, and he respected Johnson's privacy too much for that.
Johnson flicked his finger against the giant wood X and frowned. “Only when I have reason to be.” He turned and glared at the other object. “That’s a pillory,” his voice was hushed and shocked.
“A what?” Chikezie looked up from her scanner.
“Torture device.” Johnson’s face paled.
As if his words brought it, a knock came at the door, just before it opened. Jeff moved to the front of his crew, as usual, to make sure he was the first person seen. Instead of the guards Jeff was expecting, a man walked in, nude to the waist, wearing nothing more than a red collar and a black leather kilt that stopped mid-thigh. He wasn’t especially young, actually a bit older than Jeff expected for a slave in that type of outfit, but there was beauty in those large, blue eyes, that carefully chiseled face.
The young man bowed. “I am Misha, Sub to my Mistress, the Duchess Claudia, friend to my Lady Queen Michelle Tal. My mistress has sent me to serve as you wait for the Queen.”
“Serve?” Johnson spat out. “I don’t suppose you mean serve us dinner.”
Misha looked over at Johnson, his face perplexed. “If you wish, I will do that.” He touched the side of the kilt, and it came apart in his hands, slipping to the ground, leaving Misha completely nude. He dropped to his knees, back arched, hands on his thighs, which were splayed, as if to display the half-hard dick between them. “Command me.”
Jeff thought if he had tried to come up with a more embarrassing scenario on his own, he couldn't have. He moved closer and knelt in front of the younger man, so they could meet eye to eye. "Look, kid, you don't have to do that. We're just fine here," Jeff said, voice low.
Startled blue eyes met his, the brows scrunching in adorable confusion. Jeff wondered if Misha had ever been turned down before. He held out a hand and helped the slave stand, although his clothing, what there was of it anyway, remained on the ground.
Of course, then Johnson had to open his mouth, "Your mistress sent us here to service us? Did she know there were five of us?"
Misha let go of Jeff's hand and took a step back. "Of course. I am a red collared Sub," he sounded more than a little offended.
"Sorry kid, but we don't know what that means," Tappen cut in, scratching at the back of his head.
"It doesn't matter what it means," Johnson interrupted. "Slavery is illegal in the UP for a reason."
"I thought anthropologists didn't judge other cultures," Jeff said smoothly. "Wasn't that the gist of the spiel you gave us last night?"
Johnson held up a hand in a frustrated gesture. "It doesn't mean I'm going to take advantage of the offer. He's a human being." He turned towards Misha. "You don't have to do this, you know. You can come back with us."
Misha's back snapped straight and he stepped away from Jeff, backing up towards the door. "I would never leave my mistress."
"I know you think it's impossible…"
"Johnson, stop." Jeff ordered. Couldn't he see the fear in the kid's eyes? "This isn't helping."
The moment he turned to reprimand Johnson, Misha turned and slipped out the door. It slammed closed with a loud thunk. Tappen winced at the noise. "Great, you scared him away."
"What? Were you considering taking him up on it?" Johnson whirled on the soldier.
"Hell no, but I seriously think you need to unclench, man."
"Is this what we came to find out?" Johnson ignored him and turned back towards Jeff. "That these descendants of UP explorers are no better than the Confeds?"
Jeff shook his head. "Our mission is to begin diplomatic relations, no matter what we find, Doctor. You'll do well to remember that or I'll request a different anthropologist." All of this could have gone a hell of a lot better. Jeff wished he had that entire moment back. "We need to withhold judgment for now."
"I don't know. Naked man in a collar seemed pretty darn clear to me," Chikezie said, her lightly accented voice cutting into the conversation in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Johnson just glared at her and didn't say anything more until the guards eventually came to escort them to the Queen.
Their escort seemed less of an escort this time and more like guards, actually pushing them forward down the hallways. Something had changed in their reception and Jeff had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what. As they were led down the hallway he was conscious of their group being separated, guards winding themselves between him and his team. The back of Jeff's neck prickled, but he was helpless to stop this without making things even worse.
They passed by one room where they heard the sharp crack of a whip. Jeff flinched at the noise, remembering the naked slave in their room. He hadn’t gotten a look at the kid's back, so he had no clue if this was the punishment Misha could expect for not having serviced them properly. Guilt sank to the pit of his stomach; perhaps he should have played along sooner, gotten Johnson to back off about the kid.
Too late for recriminations now, they were brought into a throne room and a kick at his feet had Jeff sprawling on the floor. He pushed himself up with one hand and got his first good look at the queen.
He couldn’t say if she was or wasn't what he expected. She wasn't too old or too young, her face looked ageless, strong cheekbones, deep set dark eyes, and a shock of blond hair pulled back and up into an elaborate design. Her dress flowed into a shimmering fall of blue and green, reflecting the light of the room. At her feet knelt a man with salt and pepper gray hair, a sign, Jeff thought, that these people actually did age, and a golden metal collar around his neck. Like Misha had, he wore one of those kilts, this one falling to his knees. He kept his hands clasped behind his back and his head down, but Jeff thought he saw a flash of those eyes, taking in the strangers being led into the throne room.
She leaned forward in her gilded chair, one hand placed absently on the slave's head, stroking his hair like a beloved pet. "Who leads here?"
Jeff cleared his throat. "I am Commander Jeff Morgan. I'm in charge of this mission."
The queen sniffed, looking down at him, easy to do when she was up on a stage and he on the ground. "So you say. They told me you claim to come from another world, a place beyond the stars."
"That's right," Jeff said. He went into the rest of his spiel. "People from my world explored and settled this planet 300 years ago. We believe you are their descendants."
She rose out of her throne, her movements graceful and fluid, the fabric of her dress pooling around her feet like a waterfall. The Queen walked around her slave and towards the blank wall over to the right of the dais. "You must think us quite foolish. Naïve even, to merely believe your words without any proof."
"There is a shuttle with the rest of my people just outside your city," Jeff said. "We can even take someone out into space, see our starship."
She chuckled, a low, deep laughter that was not a pleasant sound. "Oh, I know all about your shuttle." A wave of her hand over the wall had it shifting into a screen, the metal moving like rippling scales, suddenly revealing what Jeff assumed to be a live shot of the crew, taking soil samples, doing climate analysis, and waiting for Jeff and the others to return. "Did you think us so primitive to not be watching when strangers land on our doorstep?"
"I never meant to imply…" Jeff began.
"No, of course not. You merely allowed your crew," she tossed her head gesturing to the rest of his people scattered around the room, separated and guarded by more soldiers in golden uniforms, "to so frighten a Sub under my protection as to make him think you'd snatch him away from his rightful mistress."
"Our ways are different," Jeff began.
"Enough of your excuses," she snapped. "You cannot keep your people in line. You are a poor example of a Master. Return when you have learned respect for our ways." The Queen clapped her hands, and Jeff heard the commotion behind him. He half stood and whirled around, but was held back when he saw that Johnson and Tappen were being dragged from the room.
"They will be returned to you when you can prove yourself a proper master," she snapped.
"And what the hell do you mean by that?" Jeff turned on her, anger rising in his chest.
The Queen leveled those intense eyes at him, now back at the side of her slave…or Sub as she called him. Her hand fisted in his hair and she pulled his head back, but he looked at her with adoration, Jeff thought, like a supplicant. No, that wasn't quite right, he looked at her like he loved her. It hadn't been so long that Jeff had forgotten what that looked like.
"Lead," she said, "Be a true Master. Inspire. I await your return when you've learned how to care for your people."
And then there was nothing for it but the guards to lead them out.
Jeff ran a hand through his matted hair, shaking thoughts of the mission out of his mind. He could dwell on it, pick out the countless times he could have stopped events from going down at they did, or he could buck up and move forward. Moving forward was the whole point of bringing Lt. Jensen Ackles in.
Ackles had strode into that conference room like he owned it, all defensive swagger and arrogance, despite his too pretty face. Jeff hadn't reacted well when told he was basically ordered to sleep with Jensen. Maybe he'd be the type of guy Jeff would have picked up in a bar a lifetime ago, certainly before Katie, but there hadn't been any men in his life since her death, and being forced into it stuck in his craw.
But Ackles hadn't had a choice either, Jeff reflected, just did his duty no matter who he had to sleep with. And Jeff decided he had to get over himself when two men's lives were on the line. Jeff splashed some water on his face, in an attempt to wake up.
Normally he'd be up, showered and on duty by now, but all of his time was supposed to be devoted to learning from Jensen, with the sole goal of returning to 328 and getting his people back. Jeff wasn't stupid, he knew 328 had far more to offer than two lone soldiers. More people had been sacrificed for less, in his experience. The UP saw final victory over the Confed with 328, in the technology that could only be described as alien.
He had a few hours before the scheduled conference comm with that Sex Corps general who had assigned Ackles to the mission, so Jeff decided to get in one of his required workouts. With everything that had happened, he had missed a few, and he didn't want to get soft or let his muscles go to mush that space could turn them into without regular care. Jeff snagged on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. That shower could wait till later.
The gym door slid open at his touch and Jeff stepped inside, planning on hitting one of the weight machines for some deep lifting, but motion in the open area caught his eye and Jeff turned to see Jensen working out on the mat. The lieutenant moved with careful grace, sliding into some familiar self-defense modes, clad only in a pair of black workout pants. Sweat glimmered off of his slim but tightly muscled chest, corded like a racehorse in the races popular in the Confederation.
Jeff had to stamp down the flare of arousal that coiled in his gut. He may have touched that body only last night, had even had Jensen in most of the ways that mattered, but right now that half-naked body tempted him to rise to the occasion yet again. Probably a result of his lack of a sex life before this. He hated to admit David being right about something, but surely if he was having regular sex of some kind, Ackles finely-toned body wouldn't have had such an effect on him.
"Good morning," he called, breaking Jensen's concentration and causing the other man to stumble.
Jensen turned and grinned at him. "Morning. Surprised to see you up so early."
"I'm not that easy to wear out," Jeff fell into the flirting, nice and easy.
"You don't want to challenge me on that, old man," his grin widened even more.
Jeff put his hand over his chest, and said in mock-affrontment: "I'm not that much older than you!"
"You're exactly twelve years, one month and 22 days older than me." At his glare Jensen just shrugged. "I read the mission report; I'm good at remembering things."
He would have to be, Jeff thought, he doubted the soldiers in the Sex Corps ever got any real backup in the field. Jensen was the first Scut he'd ever had to work with, so Jeff didn't know for sure, and he didn't feel comfortable asking. "Want to spar?" he said instead, turning the conversation away from the awkward subject of age.
Jensen nodded and stepped back, rotating his shoulder to stretch the muscle. "Best two out of three falls?"
"Sounds good." He slipped off his running shoes and shoved them over near the wall next to Jensen's, so they were both barefoot on the blue practice mat.
Jeff balanced his stance, keeping his knees loose and his arms up. He watched Jensen do the same and eyed the younger man for any weaknesses - he tended to drop his left shoulder, Jeff noted. They circled each other for a moment. Jeff kept his focus on Jensen's eyes, knowing from experience to look there for the next movement.
They traded blows, tentatively at first, taking the other's measure. Jensen might be younger and faster, but Jeff had experience and weight on his side. He got a hold of Jensen quickly and tried to strong-arm the slighter man to the mat. Jensen, however, used Jeff's size against him, flipping them so that Jeff found himself on his back, looking up at Jensen, who held out a hand to help him up.
"That's one," Jeff said and reevaluated.
This time, he went for a twisting move that took advantage of the weakness he saw in Jensen's shoulder and had Ackles's arm twisted around his back. Then he kicked out Jensen's legs from underneath him and won the second bout.
Jensen coughed and wiped his mouth as he stood. "Not bad for an old man."
"Not bad for a kid," Jeff teased back. There were darker things he could say, stuff he'd heard murmured around the ship, but he would never disrespect a fellow soldier that way. He might grin and call Sergeant Massee 'dirtwalker' and laugh off the 'spaceman' thrown his way, but he wouldn't want to repeat any of the words he heard to replace "Scut."
Third time was the charm and neither of them held back. Jeff threw in a few tricks he learned from fighting in planetside bars. Jensen, however, had different tricks in his arsenal, and Jeff still didn't understand how Jensen's legs wrapped around his waist and took him down to the mat. He looked up, dazed as Jensen ground down against him.
"That is three," Jensen whispered as he leaned forward, lips slick and shiny with sweat. God, Jeff just wanted to reach up and bite them.
They heard the woosh that signaled the gym door had opened and Jensen was up and off him before the group entered. Jeff moved into a simple stretch, nodding towards the crew who had gone towards the weight machines. By the time he made it to his feet, Jensen had already put on his shoes and shirt.
"Eleven hundred in the blue sector conference room?" Jensen asked.
Jeff nodded. Right, the comm call. "See you there."
He didn't watch as Jensen left the room, just went through the rest of his stretching routine before moving to the other part of the gym to take a turn on one of the weight machines. The physical activity cleared his mind, allowing him to set aside his lust for Ackles and focus on the discipline this mission would require. He had a job to do, and he couldn't let this flirtation distract him.
"Hey, Commander?" a young man asked from one of the weight benches - Jeff searched for the name and finally came up with Ensign Davis, one of the newer soldiers in the pilot rotation. Nice kid, a bit fresh, not touched yet by combat.
"Yes Ensign?" Jeff adjusted the weight machine as he spoke, programming in his specifications before dropping onto the bench.
"That the guy they brought all the way in from the other side of the galaxy for this mission?"
Jeff stilled. He thought Ackles had been the Scut closest to their sector of space, which was why Ackles got pulled off of his current assignment. "That was Lt. Ackles, yes," he said.
Another young soldier sat forward, Jeff didn't recognize her and didn't have the luxury of seeing a uniform with rank pipes to determine her rank or field. "He's with the Sex Corps." Her voice hushed as she said it.
"You ever worked with one of them before, Commander?" Davis asked. "They say…well, they say all kinda things about them."
None of which, Jeff thought, were worth repeating to a superior officer.
"I haven't had the pleasure before, no," Jeff said. "Ackles is a soldier, like yourselves. Don't forget that. He just does his job in a different way."
He didn't miss the look the two exchanged, but Jeff really couldn't reprimand them for that, not when it was true. Ackles did do most of his work on his back. Who knew how many people he had slept with in the name of UP peace? Jeff swallowed down a sour taste in his mouth, wishing he had stopped for food this morning.
He just had to get through this mission, that was all. Go to the briefing with the Sex Corps General, figure out how he was going to do this and get the job done. After that, Lt. Ackles would no longer be in his bed. It wasn't as if this were a relationship or anything more than simple lust. They had to use that and channel it, he knew, to get his people back, but then Ackles would be gone, out on whatever else soldiers in his Corps did, and Jeff would be alone, again.
***
Jensen tugged at his uniform collar. He seldom had reason to wear his uniform - the dress reds for the rare formal occasion, but the onship jumpsuits he wore even less often. He was hardly ever on a ship longer than the time it took to transport him to his next drop point. Certainly there was little reason for a Scut to serve aboard a Starship.
Maybe that custom should change, he thought. If the ship had a Scut on board before the 328 mission, they might have had an expert on hand, instead of Morgan having to guess at the entire thing and, of course, getting it wrong. Jensen had scoured the mission report and barely refrained from grinding his teeth the entire time. Anyone with any familiarity at all with d/s would have picked up on the intricacies of the society immediately - the obvious affection between master and Sub, the emphasis on taking care of one's Sub, hell the use of the word Sub at all. Clearly none of Morgan's team played in their spare time. And none, of course, had been trained as he had.
"You have to understand," he remembered Ferris saying, during a one on one that final year at the Academy when she had taken her role as his mentor very seriously, "the difference between the submissive and the slave."
"Besides the fact that a slave doesn't have a choice?" Jensen, as per usual, had been hogtied during this lecture, but he wasn't gagged, so he was free to question.
Ferris smiled at him. "What we're talking about is very real slavery - the kind you'll find in the Confed once you're out on your own. A slave is an object, a possession. A submissive can be treated like one, but ultimately, a Sub controls the scene."
"You realize I know all this." Jensen winced in preparation for a slap that never came.
"Nothing," she said, "nothing I do will totally prepare you for your first assignment as a slave."
It turned out, as usual, Ferris had been right. Jensen at least had the consolation that he would eventually be 'bought' by another undercover Scut and given his freedom back. But to have it taken away, even for a simple mission, to literally not be able to choose when or if he ate, to be considered nothing more than a thing had opened his eyes. It would be easier on him, Ferris had explained, because of his submissive nature, but having the desire to submit sexually did not help when he was punished for the first time, an experience so far from anything he had done at the Academy. He doubted even his friend Tom, a masochist, would have fared much better.
Those mission reports, the way the Subs spoke of their masters - no, what they had found on 328 was nothing like real slavery, the dark kind that soaked through the Confederation. Still, Jensen knew he was only guessing, based on a few reports and what little video made it back to the ship. After all, how could an entire society exist based on dominance and submission exist? The more he thought about it, the more he itched to see for himself, to untangle the mystery of 328. Training Jeff needed to come first, however.
Jensen continued down the ship corridor, heading towards the conference room, Jeff Morgan heavy in his thoughts. He knew little enough about the man, just the basic information given in the report - name, age, rank, - the usual. There hadn't been enough time to do any further research, and Jensen chafed at that lack. He always prepared for his missions, and not knowing more about Morgan stuck in his craw, especially since he'd have to rely on the man.
He didn't understand why Morgan unsettled him. Jensen was attracted to him, sure, but Jeff was hardly hard on the eyes - thick waves of hair Jensen just wanted to bury his fingers in, sleepy bedroom eyes, kissable lips and that lovely beard scruff. Jensen loved running his tongue over that soft stubble and wondered if he could convince Morgan to rub his face all along Jensen's skin. It didn't seem out of the realm of possibility; Morgan certainly knew he way around the bedroom, and despite his inability to do what he perceived as hurting Jensen, seemed fairly inventive and open to new things.
There, maybe that was it, Jensen hadn't been so attracted to someone he was fucking for a mission in…a long time. Five years, maybe, but his mind shied away from thinking about Danneel. He didn't want her shadow over this mission. Besides, Jensen had given up on the idea of finding a lover, a solid relationship, while still in the Corps. He couldn't commit to anyone while his body was already indebted, and afterwards, well, Jensen wasn't sure he'd be able to find someone worthy of the pedestal Jensen had spent the last five years building in his head. And of course, thinking about this in the context of Jeff Morgan was absolutely ridiculous, not when training the commander was so crucial to the mission.
Jeff himself wasn't exactly the mission. He would really be Jensen's partner, his backup in the field. Jensen worked alone and it felt strange to suddenly have to rely on someone else. Unlike many other Scuts, he never had another partner with him on any of his missions. If he had, though, he'd know exactly how far another Scut could be taken, and that he could trust that soldier to do his duty. With Jeff, he didn't know how far to take things sexually. Jeff might balk at a critical moment, might refuse to do something to Jensen out of some misguided notion of morality.
No wonder he made Jensen uneasy. He bit his lip, wondering how he'd work around this, when he came across a member of the crew in the hallway blocking his way. Jensen started when he realized exactly who the soldier was. "Hartley," he said, keeping his voice level.
"Surprised to see me, Ackles?" There was the familiar sneer Jensen remembered from boot camp.
"I'm more surprised you're still holding a grudge over something that happened ten years ago," Jensen said.
"Something that affected my entire military career."
Jensen wasn't going to do this. Hartley could blame Jensen and his friends all he wanted, but Hartley was the one who had refused Sex Corps placement, and got his own ass stuck on Earth. Nothing Jensen said would change his mind about it, he'd come across this type before.
"Look, I’m just here to do my job," Jensen held up his hands. "Congratulations on the Starship posting, Lieutenant." He started to walk away.
"You honestly think you're going to save the day aren't you? Do what Commander Morgan himself couldn't?"
Jensen's back straightened. "You weren't on the mission team, were you?"
"No," Hartley snapped back. "But no Scut whore is going to be a better soldier than the fucking hero of Alfani."
Jensen cursed mentally for a moment. "You're still spreading bullshit about Scuts?"
To his surprise Hartley laughed. "What do you think the rest of the crew thinks of you, Lieutenant," and there was mocking in his voice as he said the word.
"Whatever they think about me," Jensen said softly, "can hardly be worse than what I know about you."
Jensen stormed down the corridor, taking a quick turn even though he wasn't sure that was the right direction to go in. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard this bullshit a thousand times before. His covert successes weren't flashy, they didn't make the media, and even when the result did, few ever learned it had been at the hands of a Scut. That was the only way they could do what needed to be done, Jensen knew, but stars, it was hard sometimes. He had made a difference, he knew he had, had put so much of himself into his work and the Corps - would it hurt for once, for someone to acknowledge it?
***
Jensen appeared a few minutes late, slightly out of breath and red in the face, but he looked away when Jeff asked if he was all right. "Got lost," he admitted.
Jeff nodded. Even he had been stymied by the size of the Mercury when he first stepped foot onboard. She had been built specifically for this project, larger and faster than anything else out there, and with the full knowledge of how long her crew might need to be aboard. "Remind me to tell you about my first ship posting and how I ended up in the garbage pit. On second thought, make sure we never speak of that."
A smile appeared on Jensen's face and Jeff felt himself matching it. Good, the kid looked better with a smile.
"Will you key up the comm or should I?"
"I'll do it," Jensen approached the panel along the wall off the room. "Commander?" he asked, his hand hovering over the instrument. Jeff could see his hesitance, the stiffness in his body where he was usually so fluid. "Are you sure about this? I was trained for it, but, you…can you go through with it?"
Jensen spoke so softly Jeff had to strain to hear. He would bet his pension that wasn't what Jensen had intended to ask at all. "I thought we were making progress," Jeff answered carefully.
"We are," Jensen turned towards him. "This isn't your duty. You didn't set out to earn your commission on…" he halted his words, "Like I do."
Someone had gotten to Ackles, Jeff thought, more of the crew's whispers, maybe. "Those are my people down on that planet, Lieutenant. I have a responsibility to them. If I have to do something outside of my training…well, that's what service is about, isn’t it?"
"Even if it means demeaning yourself?"
"How can it be demeaning if I'm saving lives?"
Jensen nodded to himself, as if satisfied. Then he finally keyed up the commlink and stepped back. The screen along the wall flickered to life. If they weren't so far out from UP space, there would be a hologram transmission directly in the conference room, as if General Ferris sat in the room herself. However, they were lucky to get a picture at all, and that only because the UP had been relentlessly placing boosting beacons all along the route to the Lost Colonies.
Lines of static appeared on the screen, until finally the image of a woman came into view - tall, strong jaw, intense looking eyes. She wore the full reds of a Sex Corps Brigadier General, not a stitch out of place. Jeff counted the ribbons on her chest and nodded to himself, impressed. "Good morning, Lt. Ackles. It is still morning where you are?"
"Yes, General. Good morning," Jensen grinned at her after he saluted. "This is Commander Jeff Morgan."
Jeff nodded at the screen. "Pleased to meet you, sir."
She turned that serious gaze onto him and Jeff felt she could see right through him and then some. "Morgan…I've heard that name before."
He shrugged. His bout of celebrity was long over, it was only new pilots who still spoke of him with any reverence. As far as Jeff was concerned, he had only done his duty, what any pilot in the same situation should have done. It wasn't like he hadn't had ten long years of missions gone wrong to make up for it. Years of missions and that one time he should have been there and wasn't. He noticed Jensen looking at him, his gaze eerily similar to Ferris's.
"I've skimmed your report, Lt. Ackles. It seems like you are making progress."
When had Jensen had time to send a report? Maybe he hadn't gone to sleep at all last night; his reasons for leaving Jeff's quarters no longer seemed so sinister.
"Yes, sir," Jensen said. "Not that I couldn't use a month's worth of training."
"We don't have a month, Lieutenant."
Ferris turned her gaze back onto Jeff and then static filled the screen for another long moment. Jensen turned a dial on the panel and the visual smoothed. "Do you think you can pull this off now?"
Jensen looked sideways over at Jeff, and he didn't quite know what to say; he wasn't at all sure they could pull it off. Jeff understood a little more than he had yesterday, or the first day Ackles had walked onto the ship, but not enough to say whether they could fool the citizens of 328.
Finally, Jensen's shoulders fell and he admitted. "I'm not sure."
"You have to be certain, Lieutenant." Ferris snapped. "Take 24 hours. Do not drop character for the duration. If you can do that, then I'll sign off on the mission. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." Jensen said, Jeff echoing him a second afterwards.
Ferris leaned forward, as if reaching for her own panel. More lines appeared across the screen. "Watch yourself, Ackles. And Morgan? You better take care of my boy." With that the connection snapped shut.
Jensen blushed again, his cheeks more red than pink. "She was my mentor back at the Academy. She's a bit…overprotective."
Jeff laughed. "I can see that. I wouldn't want to cross her. So," he paused. "How are we going to do this?"
"I'll meet you at your quarters in an hour or so, I need to pack a few things," Jensen looked thoughtful, as if mulling her words over. "We can plan the scene out then."
"The scene…" Jeff let his words trail off.
Jensen rolled his eyes. "Tell me you at least did the reading I sent you. Even though it's for a longer period of time, yes, it is still a scene."
Jeff nodded as if he understood and made a mental note to review the texts Jensen had sent his way. He had read them, but clearly, hadn't understood enough. "I'll see you in a hour then."
tbc
Author: Epeeblade
Word count: 27,000+
Genre: AU, RPS, slash, kink, sci-fi
Pairing(s): JA/JDM
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Status: Complete. Last part will be posted by Monday at the latest. Just waiting on copyedits.
Warnings/keywords: explicit sexual content, bdsm, spanking, collars, humiliation, piercing, begging, toys, implied slavery
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This in no way depicts the real lives of Jensen Ackles or any of the other actors featured therein.
Series: This is part of the Sex Corps verse. Chronologically it comes immediately after Whoever Brings the Night although reading Amaranth might help with understanding the universe.
Notes: This series started out as a simple birthday fic written for lapillus and now I think I have her Christmas gift covered too. She's been so kind as to beta for me. All mistakes are my own.
Title comes from a Nightwish song.
Summary: Lt. Ackles teaches Commander Morgan a few things about submission as they get ready for the rescue mission.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
Seven Days to the Wolves
By Epeeblade
Jeff woke as the gentle artificial lighting brightened his quarters to mimic dawn, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other stretching out across the empty expanse of bed. He hadn't gone to bed alone, and for a moment, he hesitated, listening for perhaps the sound of the shower. The normal, low hum of the ship's air-recycler permeated the room, but nothing else sounded through his quarters - and though they were the larger rooms reserved for senior staff, the bedroom wasn't that large. No, clearly Lt. Ackles had better things to do than wait around to answer any questions Jeff might have had after the first time they had been intimate.
He flicked the set of restraints still attached to the headboard, the metal making an odd clinking sound against the industrial plastic. Jeff had used cuffs to restrain war criminals, AWOL soldiers, and even a civilian or two, but they had never made it into his bedroom. It never occurred to him to actually try such a thing - handcuffs and headboards were a kinky joke, no one actually did that, right?
Well, apparently, people did do it plenty. They did it enough to justify an entire branch of the military centered around sex. Jeff had never thought his military career would go quite in that direction, but he couldn't have predicted what had happened on the disastrous first contact mission to 328. Nothing had prepared him for encountering an entire society based on kinky sex. That, of course, explained how he had failed so spectacularly, and managed to get two of his men taken prisoner and held until he had proved himself a worthy master, whatever that meant.
Ackles, however, supposedly knew and could coach Jeff in the proper way to behave. He slid out of bed, nearly tripping over the flogger left on the floor and he hopped on his bare feet around the bed, catching his hand on his desk for balance. One of the digital frames fell over and the picture winked out. Lucky Ackles had left -- otherwise he'd have been witness to Jeff's sudden post coital clumsiness. Jeff wondered if that was protocol for the Scuts - never stay the full night with whomever you're fucking at the time. He didn't know, and honestly, Jeff had never expected to be ordered into having sex with anyone.
Jeff stood the frame back up, tapping it when it seemed frozen on a single image. He wondered if it would be enough, when it all came down to it. Sure, Ackles was sex on legs, and bedding him wasn't a hardship, but how the hell could they meet the Queen's very exacting standards when Jeff himself wasn't even sure what she meant?
The mission had started out nearly perfect, the shuttle had landed just outside the city,- a golden expanse of spiraling towers and soaring bridges, more suited to a child's fairy tale than a former UP colony. He put the science team to work doing the environmental analysis, and took his four best people to the wall surrounding the city with a set of gates as tall as the ones on the shuttle-bay and as long as a football field.
They hadn't expected the gate to open at their arrival, nor to be greeted by a group of men in wild outfits - forest green capes and golden armor, with sandals that tied up to their knees. The spears they held looked deadly, but Jeff felt confident he could draw his blaster and fire before one of them got close. He stepped forward to introduce himself, holding the translator-box in one hand to repeat the words in several different languages, if they didn't understand.
Luckily, it seemed this colony had been founded by speakers of English, although that didn't explain the ancient outfits. One of the men had stepped forward, "You come from beyond the stars?"
"Yes," Jeff said, glad that he didn't have to worry about the language barrier. "I come on behalf of my government. We would like to speak with whoever has authority in your city."
"The Queen is the mistress of us all," another of the soldiers said.
"Then we would like to speak with her," Dr. Karl Johnson, Jeff's anthropologist for this mission, stepped next to Jeff and took over. Jeff let him, it was Johnson's job to figure out whatever culture had formed up in the 300 years contact had been cut off from Earth and the UP.
The man in front motioned to one of his men, who nodded and stepped back behind the wall. "Leon will send for the tram. You must request audience with the Queen, but I can take you to a waiting room."
"Thank you," Johnson said simply. Jeff flicked at the comm port at his ear and updated Sergeant Massee on their progress. They were going in.
The moment they stepped through the doorway, Jeff felt almost as if he walked through water, his motions slow and distorted. He stepped foot on the other side as if bursting free from a swimming pool, nearly stumbling onto the ground with the shock of it. Jeff turned to make sure his people were all right and watched, astonished, as their blasters were pulled off their bodies by an unseen force and into the waiting hands of the guards.
The leader nodded and touched his spear, which shimmered for a moment, then collapsed upon itself, shrinking from six feet to a mere few inches. He clasped it on his belt and nodded at Jeff. "Your weapons will be returned when you are proven trustworthy."
"Sir," Lt. Caroline Chikezie said, holding out her scanner. Jeff got her point, they had been able to distinguish their weapons from their diagnostic equipment somehow. He'd never seen technology that could do that, and then remove said weapons with an unseen force.
"I assume you'll put yours away too, then?" Jeff drawled, tilting his head towards the other guards who still held their spears.
The guy in charge smiled, and then nodded. Jeff got to watch again as the men collapsed their weapons and hooked the miniature versions on their belts. So much for a primitive culture, he thought. How the hell had this colony come so far in such a short time?
"We will escort you to the tram."
The guard fell into formation around them, causing Jeff's hackles to rise, but there was nothing he could do about it but stay on guard. Jeff and his team were the strangers here; he couldn't blame these people for playing it like this. As he watched Johnson attempt to make conversation with the soldier nearest him, Jeff thought this would work just fine, they could pump the grunts for information before seeing this Queen.
And then they entered the city good and proper and Jeff had to catch his breath. The road, a road of mosaic tile that glittered in the sunlight, broadened as they walked, the sheer golden walls giving way to mismatched buildings, painted bright colors, and gardens of rich green. Spouts of water rose from a fountain in the center of the square, the water dancing in arcs and patterns that defied gravity. Jeff could see the towers in the distance still so far away.
He noticed it when Johnson stiffened beside him and Jeff tensed, fingers twitching for the blaster no longer at his side. His eyes shifted to where the anthropologist looked, surprised at the sight; a crowd of people had gathered around a stage, set off from the side of the fountain watching what at first Jeff took for a play, until his vision adjusted. A very naked man stood bound, arms attached to ropes connected to a beam overhead, legs spread wide and also bound to either side of the stage. A woman stood behind him, her arm drawn back as she beat him with a small leather object too small to be a whip. The man cried out, but instead of pleading for clemency as Jeff expected, he begged for one more stroke.
The guards led them towards the other side of the fountain, away from the disturbing tableau, and Jeff forced himself to focus on the mission. The tram the leader had spoken of waited for them, looking like a red and gold bus, with long windows along the side. More of the locals stood around, staring at Jeff and his team with open curiosity on their faces. Several people knelt instead of stood, and Jeff noticed that all of the people on their knees wore collars around their necks.
A young woman separated from the crowd, and ran towards them. She wore a pure white tunic belted around her waist, and a yellow collar nearly concealed by her waves of blond hair. Jeff didn't know what to expect when she stopped in front of the commander of the guards and performed a cute little bow. And then she called him "master."
Jeff tilted his head to catch what the leader said to her, his words were nearly inaudible.
"You should be resting," he said.
She frowned at him. "You worry too much. I am quite well."
"Allow me my worry, love. You shouldn't be here."
"I came for my kiss," she said. "You left without waking me."
"How could I have forgotten that?" The guard curved his hand around her cheek and she leaned into his touch. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then whispered something Jeff couldn't hear and she laughed, before bowing again. When she turned to go, the guard slapped her ass, to the laughter of the rest of the guard.
Jeff exchanged a look with Lt. Caroline Chikezie, who merely rolled her eyes. Johnson's face flushed a dark red and Jeff put a hand on his arm in warning. They still had to get on that tram.
Major Tappen turned to the guard he had been befriending during the walk. "Who drives the tram?"
The guard laughed. "Harmony drives everything."
"You specialize in being cryptic, don't you?" Tappen said.
A small smile was the only reply.
Jeff stepped inside the tram and took one of the seats lining the walls, blinking against the bright crimson décor. Tappen sat next to his new friend, the two continuing their conversation. Johnson sat next to Jeff, and he didn't look happy at all. Chikezie and Brown sat across from them, Chikezie frowning down at her scanner. Jeff turned to look out the window, waiting for them to be on their way, only to find that not only had the tram started moving already, but they had taken to the air.
He gasped, shocked as they made their way over those fantastic bridges and around the bright towers, finally seeing the cornflower blue of the ocean that bordered the other side of the city.
"Brilliant!" Chikezie murmured, entranced by view out the window and he couldn't help but agree.
All too soon, their ride was over, the tram hovered near the balcony of one of the towers and the doors peeled open.
"You may wait here until the Queen summons you," the leader of the guard said, pulling open a set of glass doors leading into a room.
"Thank you," Jeff told him, taking the lead and ensuring the room was safe for the rest of his team.
"This place is absolutely nuts," Tappen said, once their escort had left them in this waiting room.
Jeff took his time wandering around the room, checking for listening devices, cameras or any more of that oddly advanced technology they had encountered from the moment they had stepped in the city. The room seemed designed for comfort with plush carpet, plenty of low seating covered with pillows, fresh fruit sat on the low table in the center, and a pitcher next to it circled by tiny golden cups. Jeff wondered if it contained water or wine. Whoever had decorated the room adorned it with the splendor of colors they had seen throughout the city bright golds, rich reds, forest greens, from the pattern in the carpet, to the fabric of the couches.
On the far side of the room Jeff noticed some wooden structures he could not name, one in the shape of a large X, the other seemed very close to a yoke and the third was a chair with a winged back. All were done in the same dark red wood in evidence throughout the room.
"It's like," Tappen snapped his fingers. "That old 2D movie, the Wizard and something? You ever seen it?"
"Saw the 3d remake, from '68," Brown answered, he stationed himself near the windows, pulling the gauzy fabric of the curtains away to look out into the balcony area.
"I don't think what we're witnessing is magic," Johnson said. He had grown increasingly agitated as their journey had continued, and Jeff knew it had something to do with the scene they had witnessed near the fountain. It had disturbed Jeff as well, but he'd seen things far more upsetting on the border during the war.
Jeff tested his comm, which worked even in the very heart of this city and took the opportunity to check in with the rest of his crew. Massee reported all was well; none of the guards had even ventured out to look at the landed shuttle. "Next check in at 1500," Jeff said. If they hadn't heard from him, Jeff knew Massee could be relied on to get the rest of the team back to the Mercury safely.
Lt. Chikezie picked up the pitcher and sniffed at it. “It smells like water,” she said. “But I’ll run the scanner over it.”
“It could be drugged with something we haven’t discovered yet,” Johnson said.
“Are you always this much of a pessimist?” Jeff asked, wondering at the sudden behavior change in his normally even-tempered anthropologist. He wished he had time to take the man aside and have a word, but in this room his words couldn't be hidden from the others, and he respected Johnson's privacy too much for that.
Johnson flicked his finger against the giant wood X and frowned. “Only when I have reason to be.” He turned and glared at the other object. “That’s a pillory,” his voice was hushed and shocked.
“A what?” Chikezie looked up from her scanner.
“Torture device.” Johnson’s face paled.
As if his words brought it, a knock came at the door, just before it opened. Jeff moved to the front of his crew, as usual, to make sure he was the first person seen. Instead of the guards Jeff was expecting, a man walked in, nude to the waist, wearing nothing more than a red collar and a black leather kilt that stopped mid-thigh. He wasn’t especially young, actually a bit older than Jeff expected for a slave in that type of outfit, but there was beauty in those large, blue eyes, that carefully chiseled face.
The young man bowed. “I am Misha, Sub to my Mistress, the Duchess Claudia, friend to my Lady Queen Michelle Tal. My mistress has sent me to serve as you wait for the Queen.”
“Serve?” Johnson spat out. “I don’t suppose you mean serve us dinner.”
Misha looked over at Johnson, his face perplexed. “If you wish, I will do that.” He touched the side of the kilt, and it came apart in his hands, slipping to the ground, leaving Misha completely nude. He dropped to his knees, back arched, hands on his thighs, which were splayed, as if to display the half-hard dick between them. “Command me.”
Jeff thought if he had tried to come up with a more embarrassing scenario on his own, he couldn't have. He moved closer and knelt in front of the younger man, so they could meet eye to eye. "Look, kid, you don't have to do that. We're just fine here," Jeff said, voice low.
Startled blue eyes met his, the brows scrunching in adorable confusion. Jeff wondered if Misha had ever been turned down before. He held out a hand and helped the slave stand, although his clothing, what there was of it anyway, remained on the ground.
Of course, then Johnson had to open his mouth, "Your mistress sent us here to service us? Did she know there were five of us?"
Misha let go of Jeff's hand and took a step back. "Of course. I am a red collared Sub," he sounded more than a little offended.
"Sorry kid, but we don't know what that means," Tappen cut in, scratching at the back of his head.
"It doesn't matter what it means," Johnson interrupted. "Slavery is illegal in the UP for a reason."
"I thought anthropologists didn't judge other cultures," Jeff said smoothly. "Wasn't that the gist of the spiel you gave us last night?"
Johnson held up a hand in a frustrated gesture. "It doesn't mean I'm going to take advantage of the offer. He's a human being." He turned towards Misha. "You don't have to do this, you know. You can come back with us."
Misha's back snapped straight and he stepped away from Jeff, backing up towards the door. "I would never leave my mistress."
"I know you think it's impossible…"
"Johnson, stop." Jeff ordered. Couldn't he see the fear in the kid's eyes? "This isn't helping."
The moment he turned to reprimand Johnson, Misha turned and slipped out the door. It slammed closed with a loud thunk. Tappen winced at the noise. "Great, you scared him away."
"What? Were you considering taking him up on it?" Johnson whirled on the soldier.
"Hell no, but I seriously think you need to unclench, man."
"Is this what we came to find out?" Johnson ignored him and turned back towards Jeff. "That these descendants of UP explorers are no better than the Confeds?"
Jeff shook his head. "Our mission is to begin diplomatic relations, no matter what we find, Doctor. You'll do well to remember that or I'll request a different anthropologist." All of this could have gone a hell of a lot better. Jeff wished he had that entire moment back. "We need to withhold judgment for now."
"I don't know. Naked man in a collar seemed pretty darn clear to me," Chikezie said, her lightly accented voice cutting into the conversation in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Johnson just glared at her and didn't say anything more until the guards eventually came to escort them to the Queen.
Their escort seemed less of an escort this time and more like guards, actually pushing them forward down the hallways. Something had changed in their reception and Jeff had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what. As they were led down the hallway he was conscious of their group being separated, guards winding themselves between him and his team. The back of Jeff's neck prickled, but he was helpless to stop this without making things even worse.
They passed by one room where they heard the sharp crack of a whip. Jeff flinched at the noise, remembering the naked slave in their room. He hadn’t gotten a look at the kid's back, so he had no clue if this was the punishment Misha could expect for not having serviced them properly. Guilt sank to the pit of his stomach; perhaps he should have played along sooner, gotten Johnson to back off about the kid.
Too late for recriminations now, they were brought into a throne room and a kick at his feet had Jeff sprawling on the floor. He pushed himself up with one hand and got his first good look at the queen.
He couldn’t say if she was or wasn't what he expected. She wasn't too old or too young, her face looked ageless, strong cheekbones, deep set dark eyes, and a shock of blond hair pulled back and up into an elaborate design. Her dress flowed into a shimmering fall of blue and green, reflecting the light of the room. At her feet knelt a man with salt and pepper gray hair, a sign, Jeff thought, that these people actually did age, and a golden metal collar around his neck. Like Misha had, he wore one of those kilts, this one falling to his knees. He kept his hands clasped behind his back and his head down, but Jeff thought he saw a flash of those eyes, taking in the strangers being led into the throne room.
She leaned forward in her gilded chair, one hand placed absently on the slave's head, stroking his hair like a beloved pet. "Who leads here?"
Jeff cleared his throat. "I am Commander Jeff Morgan. I'm in charge of this mission."
The queen sniffed, looking down at him, easy to do when she was up on a stage and he on the ground. "So you say. They told me you claim to come from another world, a place beyond the stars."
"That's right," Jeff said. He went into the rest of his spiel. "People from my world explored and settled this planet 300 years ago. We believe you are their descendants."
She rose out of her throne, her movements graceful and fluid, the fabric of her dress pooling around her feet like a waterfall. The Queen walked around her slave and towards the blank wall over to the right of the dais. "You must think us quite foolish. Naïve even, to merely believe your words without any proof."
"There is a shuttle with the rest of my people just outside your city," Jeff said. "We can even take someone out into space, see our starship."
She chuckled, a low, deep laughter that was not a pleasant sound. "Oh, I know all about your shuttle." A wave of her hand over the wall had it shifting into a screen, the metal moving like rippling scales, suddenly revealing what Jeff assumed to be a live shot of the crew, taking soil samples, doing climate analysis, and waiting for Jeff and the others to return. "Did you think us so primitive to not be watching when strangers land on our doorstep?"
"I never meant to imply…" Jeff began.
"No, of course not. You merely allowed your crew," she tossed her head gesturing to the rest of his people scattered around the room, separated and guarded by more soldiers in golden uniforms, "to so frighten a Sub under my protection as to make him think you'd snatch him away from his rightful mistress."
"Our ways are different," Jeff began.
"Enough of your excuses," she snapped. "You cannot keep your people in line. You are a poor example of a Master. Return when you have learned respect for our ways." The Queen clapped her hands, and Jeff heard the commotion behind him. He half stood and whirled around, but was held back when he saw that Johnson and Tappen were being dragged from the room.
"They will be returned to you when you can prove yourself a proper master," she snapped.
"And what the hell do you mean by that?" Jeff turned on her, anger rising in his chest.
The Queen leveled those intense eyes at him, now back at the side of her slave…or Sub as she called him. Her hand fisted in his hair and she pulled his head back, but he looked at her with adoration, Jeff thought, like a supplicant. No, that wasn't quite right, he looked at her like he loved her. It hadn't been so long that Jeff had forgotten what that looked like.
"Lead," she said, "Be a true Master. Inspire. I await your return when you've learned how to care for your people."
And then there was nothing for it but the guards to lead them out.
Jeff ran a hand through his matted hair, shaking thoughts of the mission out of his mind. He could dwell on it, pick out the countless times he could have stopped events from going down at they did, or he could buck up and move forward. Moving forward was the whole point of bringing Lt. Jensen Ackles in.
Ackles had strode into that conference room like he owned it, all defensive swagger and arrogance, despite his too pretty face. Jeff hadn't reacted well when told he was basically ordered to sleep with Jensen. Maybe he'd be the type of guy Jeff would have picked up in a bar a lifetime ago, certainly before Katie, but there hadn't been any men in his life since her death, and being forced into it stuck in his craw.
But Ackles hadn't had a choice either, Jeff reflected, just did his duty no matter who he had to sleep with. And Jeff decided he had to get over himself when two men's lives were on the line. Jeff splashed some water on his face, in an attempt to wake up.
Normally he'd be up, showered and on duty by now, but all of his time was supposed to be devoted to learning from Jensen, with the sole goal of returning to 328 and getting his people back. Jeff wasn't stupid, he knew 328 had far more to offer than two lone soldiers. More people had been sacrificed for less, in his experience. The UP saw final victory over the Confed with 328, in the technology that could only be described as alien.
He had a few hours before the scheduled conference comm with that Sex Corps general who had assigned Ackles to the mission, so Jeff decided to get in one of his required workouts. With everything that had happened, he had missed a few, and he didn't want to get soft or let his muscles go to mush that space could turn them into without regular care. Jeff snagged on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. That shower could wait till later.
The gym door slid open at his touch and Jeff stepped inside, planning on hitting one of the weight machines for some deep lifting, but motion in the open area caught his eye and Jeff turned to see Jensen working out on the mat. The lieutenant moved with careful grace, sliding into some familiar self-defense modes, clad only in a pair of black workout pants. Sweat glimmered off of his slim but tightly muscled chest, corded like a racehorse in the races popular in the Confederation.
Jeff had to stamp down the flare of arousal that coiled in his gut. He may have touched that body only last night, had even had Jensen in most of the ways that mattered, but right now that half-naked body tempted him to rise to the occasion yet again. Probably a result of his lack of a sex life before this. He hated to admit David being right about something, but surely if he was having regular sex of some kind, Ackles finely-toned body wouldn't have had such an effect on him.
"Good morning," he called, breaking Jensen's concentration and causing the other man to stumble.
Jensen turned and grinned at him. "Morning. Surprised to see you up so early."
"I'm not that easy to wear out," Jeff fell into the flirting, nice and easy.
"You don't want to challenge me on that, old man," his grin widened even more.
Jeff put his hand over his chest, and said in mock-affrontment: "I'm not that much older than you!"
"You're exactly twelve years, one month and 22 days older than me." At his glare Jensen just shrugged. "I read the mission report; I'm good at remembering things."
He would have to be, Jeff thought, he doubted the soldiers in the Sex Corps ever got any real backup in the field. Jensen was the first Scut he'd ever had to work with, so Jeff didn't know for sure, and he didn't feel comfortable asking. "Want to spar?" he said instead, turning the conversation away from the awkward subject of age.
Jensen nodded and stepped back, rotating his shoulder to stretch the muscle. "Best two out of three falls?"
"Sounds good." He slipped off his running shoes and shoved them over near the wall next to Jensen's, so they were both barefoot on the blue practice mat.
Jeff balanced his stance, keeping his knees loose and his arms up. He watched Jensen do the same and eyed the younger man for any weaknesses - he tended to drop his left shoulder, Jeff noted. They circled each other for a moment. Jeff kept his focus on Jensen's eyes, knowing from experience to look there for the next movement.
They traded blows, tentatively at first, taking the other's measure. Jensen might be younger and faster, but Jeff had experience and weight on his side. He got a hold of Jensen quickly and tried to strong-arm the slighter man to the mat. Jensen, however, used Jeff's size against him, flipping them so that Jeff found himself on his back, looking up at Jensen, who held out a hand to help him up.
"That's one," Jeff said and reevaluated.
This time, he went for a twisting move that took advantage of the weakness he saw in Jensen's shoulder and had Ackles's arm twisted around his back. Then he kicked out Jensen's legs from underneath him and won the second bout.
Jensen coughed and wiped his mouth as he stood. "Not bad for an old man."
"Not bad for a kid," Jeff teased back. There were darker things he could say, stuff he'd heard murmured around the ship, but he would never disrespect a fellow soldier that way. He might grin and call Sergeant Massee 'dirtwalker' and laugh off the 'spaceman' thrown his way, but he wouldn't want to repeat any of the words he heard to replace "Scut."
Third time was the charm and neither of them held back. Jeff threw in a few tricks he learned from fighting in planetside bars. Jensen, however, had different tricks in his arsenal, and Jeff still didn't understand how Jensen's legs wrapped around his waist and took him down to the mat. He looked up, dazed as Jensen ground down against him.
"That is three," Jensen whispered as he leaned forward, lips slick and shiny with sweat. God, Jeff just wanted to reach up and bite them.
They heard the woosh that signaled the gym door had opened and Jensen was up and off him before the group entered. Jeff moved into a simple stretch, nodding towards the crew who had gone towards the weight machines. By the time he made it to his feet, Jensen had already put on his shoes and shirt.
"Eleven hundred in the blue sector conference room?" Jensen asked.
Jeff nodded. Right, the comm call. "See you there."
He didn't watch as Jensen left the room, just went through the rest of his stretching routine before moving to the other part of the gym to take a turn on one of the weight machines. The physical activity cleared his mind, allowing him to set aside his lust for Ackles and focus on the discipline this mission would require. He had a job to do, and he couldn't let this flirtation distract him.
"Hey, Commander?" a young man asked from one of the weight benches - Jeff searched for the name and finally came up with Ensign Davis, one of the newer soldiers in the pilot rotation. Nice kid, a bit fresh, not touched yet by combat.
"Yes Ensign?" Jeff adjusted the weight machine as he spoke, programming in his specifications before dropping onto the bench.
"That the guy they brought all the way in from the other side of the galaxy for this mission?"
Jeff stilled. He thought Ackles had been the Scut closest to their sector of space, which was why Ackles got pulled off of his current assignment. "That was Lt. Ackles, yes," he said.
Another young soldier sat forward, Jeff didn't recognize her and didn't have the luxury of seeing a uniform with rank pipes to determine her rank or field. "He's with the Sex Corps." Her voice hushed as she said it.
"You ever worked with one of them before, Commander?" Davis asked. "They say…well, they say all kinda things about them."
None of which, Jeff thought, were worth repeating to a superior officer.
"I haven't had the pleasure before, no," Jeff said. "Ackles is a soldier, like yourselves. Don't forget that. He just does his job in a different way."
He didn't miss the look the two exchanged, but Jeff really couldn't reprimand them for that, not when it was true. Ackles did do most of his work on his back. Who knew how many people he had slept with in the name of UP peace? Jeff swallowed down a sour taste in his mouth, wishing he had stopped for food this morning.
He just had to get through this mission, that was all. Go to the briefing with the Sex Corps General, figure out how he was going to do this and get the job done. After that, Lt. Ackles would no longer be in his bed. It wasn't as if this were a relationship or anything more than simple lust. They had to use that and channel it, he knew, to get his people back, but then Ackles would be gone, out on whatever else soldiers in his Corps did, and Jeff would be alone, again.
***
Jensen tugged at his uniform collar. He seldom had reason to wear his uniform - the dress reds for the rare formal occasion, but the onship jumpsuits he wore even less often. He was hardly ever on a ship longer than the time it took to transport him to his next drop point. Certainly there was little reason for a Scut to serve aboard a Starship.
Maybe that custom should change, he thought. If the ship had a Scut on board before the 328 mission, they might have had an expert on hand, instead of Morgan having to guess at the entire thing and, of course, getting it wrong. Jensen had scoured the mission report and barely refrained from grinding his teeth the entire time. Anyone with any familiarity at all with d/s would have picked up on the intricacies of the society immediately - the obvious affection between master and Sub, the emphasis on taking care of one's Sub, hell the use of the word Sub at all. Clearly none of Morgan's team played in their spare time. And none, of course, had been trained as he had.
"You have to understand," he remembered Ferris saying, during a one on one that final year at the Academy when she had taken her role as his mentor very seriously, "the difference between the submissive and the slave."
"Besides the fact that a slave doesn't have a choice?" Jensen, as per usual, had been hogtied during this lecture, but he wasn't gagged, so he was free to question.
Ferris smiled at him. "What we're talking about is very real slavery - the kind you'll find in the Confed once you're out on your own. A slave is an object, a possession. A submissive can be treated like one, but ultimately, a Sub controls the scene."
"You realize I know all this." Jensen winced in preparation for a slap that never came.
"Nothing," she said, "nothing I do will totally prepare you for your first assignment as a slave."
It turned out, as usual, Ferris had been right. Jensen at least had the consolation that he would eventually be 'bought' by another undercover Scut and given his freedom back. But to have it taken away, even for a simple mission, to literally not be able to choose when or if he ate, to be considered nothing more than a thing had opened his eyes. It would be easier on him, Ferris had explained, because of his submissive nature, but having the desire to submit sexually did not help when he was punished for the first time, an experience so far from anything he had done at the Academy. He doubted even his friend Tom, a masochist, would have fared much better.
Those mission reports, the way the Subs spoke of their masters - no, what they had found on 328 was nothing like real slavery, the dark kind that soaked through the Confederation. Still, Jensen knew he was only guessing, based on a few reports and what little video made it back to the ship. After all, how could an entire society exist based on dominance and submission exist? The more he thought about it, the more he itched to see for himself, to untangle the mystery of 328. Training Jeff needed to come first, however.
Jensen continued down the ship corridor, heading towards the conference room, Jeff Morgan heavy in his thoughts. He knew little enough about the man, just the basic information given in the report - name, age, rank, - the usual. There hadn't been enough time to do any further research, and Jensen chafed at that lack. He always prepared for his missions, and not knowing more about Morgan stuck in his craw, especially since he'd have to rely on the man.
He didn't understand why Morgan unsettled him. Jensen was attracted to him, sure, but Jeff was hardly hard on the eyes - thick waves of hair Jensen just wanted to bury his fingers in, sleepy bedroom eyes, kissable lips and that lovely beard scruff. Jensen loved running his tongue over that soft stubble and wondered if he could convince Morgan to rub his face all along Jensen's skin. It didn't seem out of the realm of possibility; Morgan certainly knew he way around the bedroom, and despite his inability to do what he perceived as hurting Jensen, seemed fairly inventive and open to new things.
There, maybe that was it, Jensen hadn't been so attracted to someone he was fucking for a mission in…a long time. Five years, maybe, but his mind shied away from thinking about Danneel. He didn't want her shadow over this mission. Besides, Jensen had given up on the idea of finding a lover, a solid relationship, while still in the Corps. He couldn't commit to anyone while his body was already indebted, and afterwards, well, Jensen wasn't sure he'd be able to find someone worthy of the pedestal Jensen had spent the last five years building in his head. And of course, thinking about this in the context of Jeff Morgan was absolutely ridiculous, not when training the commander was so crucial to the mission.
Jeff himself wasn't exactly the mission. He would really be Jensen's partner, his backup in the field. Jensen worked alone and it felt strange to suddenly have to rely on someone else. Unlike many other Scuts, he never had another partner with him on any of his missions. If he had, though, he'd know exactly how far another Scut could be taken, and that he could trust that soldier to do his duty. With Jeff, he didn't know how far to take things sexually. Jeff might balk at a critical moment, might refuse to do something to Jensen out of some misguided notion of morality.
No wonder he made Jensen uneasy. He bit his lip, wondering how he'd work around this, when he came across a member of the crew in the hallway blocking his way. Jensen started when he realized exactly who the soldier was. "Hartley," he said, keeping his voice level.
"Surprised to see me, Ackles?" There was the familiar sneer Jensen remembered from boot camp.
"I'm more surprised you're still holding a grudge over something that happened ten years ago," Jensen said.
"Something that affected my entire military career."
Jensen wasn't going to do this. Hartley could blame Jensen and his friends all he wanted, but Hartley was the one who had refused Sex Corps placement, and got his own ass stuck on Earth. Nothing Jensen said would change his mind about it, he'd come across this type before.
"Look, I’m just here to do my job," Jensen held up his hands. "Congratulations on the Starship posting, Lieutenant." He started to walk away.
"You honestly think you're going to save the day aren't you? Do what Commander Morgan himself couldn't?"
Jensen's back straightened. "You weren't on the mission team, were you?"
"No," Hartley snapped back. "But no Scut whore is going to be a better soldier than the fucking hero of Alfani."
Jensen cursed mentally for a moment. "You're still spreading bullshit about Scuts?"
To his surprise Hartley laughed. "What do you think the rest of the crew thinks of you, Lieutenant," and there was mocking in his voice as he said the word.
"Whatever they think about me," Jensen said softly, "can hardly be worse than what I know about you."
Jensen stormed down the corridor, taking a quick turn even though he wasn't sure that was the right direction to go in. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard this bullshit a thousand times before. His covert successes weren't flashy, they didn't make the media, and even when the result did, few ever learned it had been at the hands of a Scut. That was the only way they could do what needed to be done, Jensen knew, but stars, it was hard sometimes. He had made a difference, he knew he had, had put so much of himself into his work and the Corps - would it hurt for once, for someone to acknowledge it?
***
Jensen appeared a few minutes late, slightly out of breath and red in the face, but he looked away when Jeff asked if he was all right. "Got lost," he admitted.
Jeff nodded. Even he had been stymied by the size of the Mercury when he first stepped foot onboard. She had been built specifically for this project, larger and faster than anything else out there, and with the full knowledge of how long her crew might need to be aboard. "Remind me to tell you about my first ship posting and how I ended up in the garbage pit. On second thought, make sure we never speak of that."
A smile appeared on Jensen's face and Jeff felt himself matching it. Good, the kid looked better with a smile.
"Will you key up the comm or should I?"
"I'll do it," Jensen approached the panel along the wall off the room. "Commander?" he asked, his hand hovering over the instrument. Jeff could see his hesitance, the stiffness in his body where he was usually so fluid. "Are you sure about this? I was trained for it, but, you…can you go through with it?"
Jensen spoke so softly Jeff had to strain to hear. He would bet his pension that wasn't what Jensen had intended to ask at all. "I thought we were making progress," Jeff answered carefully.
"We are," Jensen turned towards him. "This isn't your duty. You didn't set out to earn your commission on…" he halted his words, "Like I do."
Someone had gotten to Ackles, Jeff thought, more of the crew's whispers, maybe. "Those are my people down on that planet, Lieutenant. I have a responsibility to them. If I have to do something outside of my training…well, that's what service is about, isn’t it?"
"Even if it means demeaning yourself?"
"How can it be demeaning if I'm saving lives?"
Jensen nodded to himself, as if satisfied. Then he finally keyed up the commlink and stepped back. The screen along the wall flickered to life. If they weren't so far out from UP space, there would be a hologram transmission directly in the conference room, as if General Ferris sat in the room herself. However, they were lucky to get a picture at all, and that only because the UP had been relentlessly placing boosting beacons all along the route to the Lost Colonies.
Lines of static appeared on the screen, until finally the image of a woman came into view - tall, strong jaw, intense looking eyes. She wore the full reds of a Sex Corps Brigadier General, not a stitch out of place. Jeff counted the ribbons on her chest and nodded to himself, impressed. "Good morning, Lt. Ackles. It is still morning where you are?"
"Yes, General. Good morning," Jensen grinned at her after he saluted. "This is Commander Jeff Morgan."
Jeff nodded at the screen. "Pleased to meet you, sir."
She turned that serious gaze onto him and Jeff felt she could see right through him and then some. "Morgan…I've heard that name before."
He shrugged. His bout of celebrity was long over, it was only new pilots who still spoke of him with any reverence. As far as Jeff was concerned, he had only done his duty, what any pilot in the same situation should have done. It wasn't like he hadn't had ten long years of missions gone wrong to make up for it. Years of missions and that one time he should have been there and wasn't. He noticed Jensen looking at him, his gaze eerily similar to Ferris's.
"I've skimmed your report, Lt. Ackles. It seems like you are making progress."
When had Jensen had time to send a report? Maybe he hadn't gone to sleep at all last night; his reasons for leaving Jeff's quarters no longer seemed so sinister.
"Yes, sir," Jensen said. "Not that I couldn't use a month's worth of training."
"We don't have a month, Lieutenant."
Ferris turned her gaze back onto Jeff and then static filled the screen for another long moment. Jensen turned a dial on the panel and the visual smoothed. "Do you think you can pull this off now?"
Jensen looked sideways over at Jeff, and he didn't quite know what to say; he wasn't at all sure they could pull it off. Jeff understood a little more than he had yesterday, or the first day Ackles had walked onto the ship, but not enough to say whether they could fool the citizens of 328.
Finally, Jensen's shoulders fell and he admitted. "I'm not sure."
"You have to be certain, Lieutenant." Ferris snapped. "Take 24 hours. Do not drop character for the duration. If you can do that, then I'll sign off on the mission. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." Jensen said, Jeff echoing him a second afterwards.
Ferris leaned forward, as if reaching for her own panel. More lines appeared across the screen. "Watch yourself, Ackles. And Morgan? You better take care of my boy." With that the connection snapped shut.
Jensen blushed again, his cheeks more red than pink. "She was my mentor back at the Academy. She's a bit…overprotective."
Jeff laughed. "I can see that. I wouldn't want to cross her. So," he paused. "How are we going to do this?"
"I'll meet you at your quarters in an hour or so, I need to pack a few things," Jensen looked thoughtful, as if mulling her words over. "We can plan the scene out then."
"The scene…" Jeff let his words trail off.
Jensen rolled his eyes. "Tell me you at least did the reading I sent you. Even though it's for a longer period of time, yes, it is still a scene."
Jeff nodded as if he understood and made a mental note to review the texts Jensen had sent his way. He had read them, but clearly, hadn't understood enough. "I'll see you in a hour then."
tbc