Fic: Moondance (1/3) (Sex Corps, Hank/Ian)

[epeeblade]

Title: Moondance
Author name: Epeeblade
Genre: AU, RPS, slash, kink, sci-fi, BDSM
Pairing(s): Hank Tappen/Ian (omc/omc), the overall series pairing is JA/JDM who do not appear in this story
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Word count: 23,000
Warnings: A mild piercing scene
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This in no way depicts the real lives of any of the actors featured herein.
Series: This is part of the Sex Corps verse. Chronologically it occurs during the same time as Meadows of Heaven and slightly afterward
Notes:  I set out to write a short missing scene. This is what happened. . .
Thanks to lapillus for the beta. All mistakes are my own.
Title comes from a Nightwish song.

Summary: Major Hank Tappen has become Sub Henry, owned by one Guard Ian.  It's time he starts to figure out just who Sub Henry is.

Single html file of fic.


Moondance
by Epeeblade

I. The Taking

Prepare yourself. When you're ready, come into the playroom.

Hank stared into the full-length mirror stretched along the wall of this borrowed bedroom, not quite sure he liked what he saw there. This morning he woke up and he was Major Henry Tappen, temporary captive of the queen of Harmony on planet 328. And now, after this afternoon's ceremony he was just Hank, sub to Guard Ian.

Ian had brought them back here, to this suite of rooms in the palace nearly identical to where Hank and Karl had been housed while waiting for the queen's decision. By now he was bored of high ceilings and detailed furniture, missing the cozy feel of Ian's apartment in the center of the city. He suspected Ian had borrowed the suite to make this consummation memorable.

He touched the navy blue collar wrapped around his neck, not finding a seam. No, this sucker wasn't due to come off for another two years. He'd heard jokes about the military being a yoke around someone's neck, but this was a bit too literal for him.

All right, he might be stalling. He knew Ian was waiting for him, just beyond that door. And here he stood, watching himself in the mirror, the bottle of oil still capped in one hand. Hank didn't recognize the man in the mirror, the one naked except for the collar, lips kiss-swollen and hair askew. That man seemed to fit in here, a sub just as artfully arranged as the furniture in this room.

He was acting like a virgin before her wedding night. Fuck, don't let that thought get to the boys back on the Mercury; he'd never live it down. Though that's what Ian had done to him, claiming Hank with his collar, showing that he was owned. It was a bit more blatant of a symbol than a wedding ring. And here on Harmony, it meant so much more.

Of course, everyone in this damn city had seen Ian make that claim. Hank's cheeks burned, remembering how it felt, just when he thought it was all over, time to go back to reality, get back on the Mercury and do his job. And then Ian spoke up. Nobody had ever fought for him like that before. Hank moved to touch his collar again, then forced his fingers away.

"Man up, Major," he said to his reflection, standing at attention and shooting off a neat salute. If this were his assignment now, he'd damn well do his duty.

Even if that duty meant bending over and spreading his legs. Damn it, he hadn't signed up for the sex corps, he wasn't a pretty little slut like Ackles. Hank had no fucking clue what he was doing here.

He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of Ian. His master. No, not like that. Ian, the man who showed him the city, introduced Hank to his family, made him understand what people on Harmony were like. The man who'd taken Hank to a sexual high he'd never experienced before.

And despite everything, he trusted Ian. He had to. Hank never would have agreed otherwise.

Oh, the UP might think they held the strings, but the queen had sat him down, the slate with the contract on the heavy wooden table before him, a stylus lying across it. "If you want to stay, I can make it an order," she'd said. "I can make it seem like I forced you to do this. But I won't if you truly wish to leave."

He'd picked up the stylus and signed the damn contract.

Well, no one had ever accused him of being smart.

Time to put out or shut up, he thought, uncapping the bottle of oil. Hank had to turn away from the mirror as he did it, slicked his fingers and probed at his own ass. He propped one leg up on the chair at the foot of the bed, liking how he was using an exotic piece of furniture - soft green fabric with gold embroidery on dark polished wood - as a tool for this almost obscene act. Somehow it always seemed more erotic when someone else did it. He guessed it had something to do with being in the moment and all.

He didn't know how far Ian wanted him to go. Hank went with two fingers, stretching himself carefully. That should be enough, he hoped, enough to make him open, but keep him tight. He put the oil away and wiped his fingers off on a towel that seemed to appear out of nowhere, folded over the back of the chair as if it had always been there.

Enough stalling. Hank set his shoulders back and strode through the door to the playroom.

***

Ian didn't like the look in Hank's eyes when his sub walked through the door. Otherwise, he was caught in the beauty of this otherworldly man from the stars. Ian had known too many subs who indulged in artifice - using cosmetics to line their eyes, or blush to rosy their nipples, even one who plumped his phallus. Hank wasn't like that at all. It was like he had no idea what he truly looked like.

Those eyes - so blue the ocean would be jealous - seemed to pierce him from across the room. Ian had seen much in those orbs: Hank being cocky or making jokes, Hank caught up in twisted pain, Hank deep in the throes of desire. But he had never seen the expression that faced him right now. Ian never wanted to see fear in Hank's eyes.

Ian did the only thing he could do. He stepped forward and caught Hank's face between his palms, tilting it upward so he could kiss those lips. Hank opened his mouth, let Ian control the kiss, capturing those plump lips between his teeth and bite down with gentle pressure.

This first time would set the tone of their time together. Even though Hank had submitted to him before, this meant something completely different. Ian had to begin as he meant for them to go on. Use a strong hand, his mother always said, but a gentle lead. He worried neither would work well with Hank. Hank wasn't a Harmony trained sub, one who knew his destiny since birth. Hank had come late to his submission. It was still so new and fragile. Ian needed to cherish that for the gift it was.

And since Hank would be the first sub he'd taken for longer than a fortnight, really it was Ian who should have fear in his eyes.

"Have you prepared yourself?" he asked, pulling away to peer into Hank's eyes.

"Yes, sir," Hank answered.

Ian counted to ten before responding. He had to do this right. "When we're alone, I want you to call me Ian."

Confusion crossed Hank's eyes and the change in expression was such a relief from the fear. He almost had 'his' Hank back. "But I thought. . ."

Ian tilted his head. "Out there you're Sub Henry and I'm Dom Ian. You will say 'yes, sir' and 'whatever my master wishes.' But here, unless we're working a scene where I've asked otherwise, call me by my name alone."

"You know I thought I had this figured out." Hank looked a bit sheepish.

Still better than fear. "I won't. . .I'm not going to punish you for making a mistake." Ian shook his head. "But you need to trust me. Follow my lead. This is my world."

"Some day I want to take you to mine," Hank said with a little half grin.

Good. Ian felt the tension lift a bit. He stepped back a pace, removing his hands from Hank reluctantly. Begin as you mean to go on. "Present standing," he ordered.

In the playroom, Ian could focus only on the scene. If he needed something, it wasn't farther than a thought away. But it also helped situate the mindset of the sub, signifying a place for discipline and order. Equipment filled the room, cuffs dangled from the walls and a rack of tools reminded the sub that any of them could be used on him. If his master wished it, of course.

Ian held himself stiff and aloof, taking on the mode of master. He had worked hard to make this mean something for Hank. He'd chosen the palace, the specifics of the playroom, all to help sooth Hank into his new role.

Hank gave him a little nod, showing that he understood. The scene began now. He clasped his hands behind his neck and spread his legs, back and shoulders straight. Ian circled him, inspecting his form.

He could not keep his hands from Hank's body. As he moved Ian stroked his fingers across those taut abs, along the curve of his waist, up the length of spine. Hank was so pale, except where the sun had touched his skin here in Harmony, his face and chest and arms gleamed golden instead of creamy. Ian made a mental note to put sun bathing into Hank's daily routine, wanting to see that tight ass tanned golden.

When he completed the circle, facing Hank once more, Ian placed a finger under Hank's chin, forcing him to look up. "Who do you belong to?" he asked softly.

Hank looked determined as he answered. "You. Ian. I belong to you."

He nodded. "What could you do to show me that you are mine?"

Hank licked his lips and Ian nearly shivered at the sight, barely keeping himself from leaning forward to taste. After a moment, Hank finally answered. "I could, maybe suck your dick?"

"Kneel." Ian moved back, letting Hank drop into position.

Nothing thrilled him so much as this - seeing a sub drop into willing submission, falling to his knees merely because Ian asked. And knowing that Hank was no ordinary sub, that he didn't do this lightly, make it all the more powerful.

Ian sucked in a breath, his heart beat loudly in his chest and his cock strained against the tight pants he'd laced on just for this scene. "Keep your hands behind your back," he ordered, undoing the lacings and freeing himself. Eventually Hank would learn all these things, how to dress and undress his master, even with his teeth if it were required.

But now, now all Hank needed was to kneel back, a quirk of a grin on his face, arms shifted to the small of his back. Ian flushed at the sight, his arousal heating his body till he felt all aflame. "Take it." He stroked down his shaft, holding it out for Hank to take between his lips.

From the moment the hot suction closed around him, Ian was lost. He caught his hand in Hank's messy hair. He wanted more to hold on to - must remember to tell him to let it grow longer. Hank looked up at him, his expression sultry and a bit too full of himself, as if he knew exactly the effect of his hot wet mouth.

Hank pulled off with an obscene slurp. "Want to eat your come," he growled, voice deep with lust.

Ian shuddered. It would kill some of his plans, but Harmony's tits, he wanted that, wanted to fill Hank up with his seed and make him swallow it down. "Do it." He shoved himself between those lips once more, feeding himself to his willing sub.

Then Hank didn't have time to school his expression, so caught up with his movements, making it so good for Ian as he bobbed his head. Ian pushed into that slick heat, gasping at the feel of Hank's teeth as they lightly scraped his dick. He gave in to his orgasm, pulling out just as he started to come, so Hank had to catch the drops on his tongue.

Ian released his hold on Hank's hair, realizing he might have been pulling a bit too hard. He took a deep breath, attempting to gain control of himself. "Good. Very good," he praised. It was important to reward good behavior.

The sight of Hank licking the last of Ian's come off his lips made Ian want to tumble him to the floor. Instead he tucked himself away. He had to stake his claim now, show Hank he wasn't in control, no matter how quickly he'd shattered Ian's composure.

Ian thought he might have to do that a lot with Hank.

"Stand up." Ian collected a set of padded cuffs and moved behind Hank, locking the chains around his wrists, keeping his arms crossed behind him. They'd done this much before. "Bend over the bench there."

Hank eyed the bench before moving to obey. Ian suspected his sub was trying to figure out exactly how Ian planned to use it. The bench stood waist high, with a blood red cushion over the top where Hank's belly would rest. Hooks and slots were arranged strategically around the wooden structure. When Hank moved into position, his chest and head would hang over the edge, all the more perfect to play with.

"Spread your legs," Ian ordered, before moving forward and kicking them apart himself. Hank could go farther.

"What the. . ." Hank murmured as the cuffs emerged from the bottom of the bench, securing his ankles and forcing his legs to stay spread.

Ian smoothed his hand down one taut buttock. "You've seen spreader bars before." Ian had been the one to show Hank, demonstrating the variety of equipment at the Schola. He loved the way this opened Hank up, spread him and showed off his hole, gaping and glistening for Ian's pleasure and use.

"Seeing is one thing," Hank grumbled.

Ian circled to the other side, never letting his hands drop from Hank's body, smoothing up along his back as he moved. Hank bit his lip as he looked up, his expression wary, but not fearful. Ian could accept that, he wanted his sub to be a bit off-center, to not know what to expect next. And now that his own arousal had been quelled for the moment he could enjoy it, savor Hank's movements and draw it out all the sweeter.

He tweaked Hank's nipples, already standing up before his attention. Hank shivered and groaned. "I want those pierced," Ian said. "Later we'll go downtown and I'll take you to the piercing master."

"Fuck," Hank murmured. "That would be weird."

"Hmm." Ian picked up the pair of clamps he'd laid aside for this purpose and tightened the first on one nipple. "Good weird? Imagine the bite through your skin. If I wanted to remind you of your status I would simply just pull at the chain between them, like so." He attached the other clamp and tugged on the chain until it was taut.

Hank let out a string of amusing expletives. "Mother fucking son of a Confed whore, that hurts."

Ian leaned down so his lips brushed Hank's ear. "But it hurts so good, doesn't it?"

He was gratified to hear Hank's moan in response. "How do you do that?"

With a chuckle, Ian moved back behind Hank, sliding a finger along his crack, while his other hand cupped Hank's length, hard and slippery with arousal. Good, he would be worried otherwise. Hank was a sub of strong passions and Ian had to tame them to his will.

"Can you hold off coming until I order it? Or do you need a ring?"

"Um." Hank looked over his shoulder, a blush tingeing his cheeks. "I think I can hold off."

Ian released Hank's cock and let a single slap fall against his buttocks. "You will." Or else there would be punishment, he decided.

Hank swallowed before answering. "Yes, Ian."

The sound of his name was nearly as good as hearing Master from Hank's lips. Ian turned to hide his grin, his utter glee at hearing Hank.

But then Hank nearly broke his heart when he asked, haltingly as if forcing the words out: "You gonna beat me now?"

"Oh, Hank, no." Ian set his hands at Hank's waist, thumbs making reassuring circles against his skin. How could he have forgotten Hank's ordeal at the hands of Mistress Albaney? He had no understanding of how things worked here, so Hank couldn't know Ian's promise in their contract was binding - he would not use a whip, a crop or even a paddle unless Hank had given permission. Ian knew Hank wasn't a pain slut, he didn't crave it as some subs did.

"Won't do anything you won't like," Ian swore, bending to trail kisses along Hank's back and down his buttocks, feeling the tension in the tight muscles fade. He smiled to himself before bending to lick tentatively at Hank's entrance, tasting the sweet oil that glistened on his skin.

"Holy hell," Hank swore and that was more like it.

Ian lapped at the oil, wanting to find out what Hank tasted underneath it, catching a hint of musk and smoky skin. Hank's flavor burst upon his tongue, and Ian delved deeper, lips pressed tight against his sub. He began to hum, thrilled at how Hank trembled beneath him. Maybe he'd never had this done to him before.

His cock began to fill at that thought, Ian imagined he was the first here like this, the first to give Hank pleasure this way. He parted Hank's buttocks and blew gently before pulling away. "All right?"

Hank squirmed in his bonds. "Fuck yes."

Ian teased a finger inside, checking Hank's readiness. He frowned at how tightly Hank clenched around him, far too tight for him to simply slide inside.

Ian selected a thick plug that was still shy of his own girth. It would open Hank up nicely. He eased it inside, watching to make sure Hank opened for him. "You're not quite ready for me," he explained, twisting the plug until it sank all the way to its base. "Soon I'll make you wear one of these all day long, so I can just slip inside you whenever I want."

Hank groaned at his words, all but writhing as Ian played with the plug, sliding it in and out, tilting it to catch the ridge of muscle inside.

"C'mon man," Hank whined. "You, I don't know if I can. . ."

Ian pulled the plug out with a soft plop. "Good boy," he praised Hank for letting him know he was close. Once again he unlaced his trousers, freeing his cock with a sigh of relief. And then he slid inside.

He had to close his eyes and give himself a moment. It had been far too long since he'd been inside Hank, their one night together had hardly been enough. It had only ignited something inside Ian, a desire to possess and own that he'd never encountered before. It reminded him of stories other doms told, when they'd found a long-term sub - how something inside them had flared, a desire to make that sub theirs. Now, finally, he understood.

Sliding inside Hank quenched that fire, made him feel like that empty space inside himself had finally been filled. Ian claimed his sub, pierced Hank's body with his cock and marked him with his come.

"Come, Henry, come," he gasped, his orgasm once again approaching far too fast.

Hank let out a low moan, his body clenching around Ian as he finally gave in and let himself come.  Ian gasped, holding tightly to Hank's waist as he came, pleasure tingling down to his very toes.

"You're heavy," Hank grumbled.

Ian pushed himself up with a laugh. He never knew what would come out of Hank's mouth next and truly, he would not have it any other way.

***

Nothing killed the afterglow like Karl showing up.

Ian had just gotten around to undoing the chains, easing Hank up from the bench and Hank didn't quite know what to do from here. The last time they'd done this they'd been in a bed. Then the door had chimed and snapped them both out of the mood.

He'd appreciated Ian leaving them alone in the sitting room, though Hank would have liked to be wearing a little bit more than the pale blue pants he'd thrown on after Ian had gone to see who was outside their door. Karl didn't say anything, though, so Hank didn't scramble for more clothing.

"I wanted to see you before I left." Karl curved his hands around the mug of steaming tye Hank had set out them for it both. Karl was dressed in his duty uniform, his pack propped up against the wall. It reminded Hank that he had left his back in the suite he and Karl shared while waiting for the queen's decision.

Yeah, Karl would be going back with Morgan and Ackles, back to the Mercury, back to the Reclamation project. Hank would be left behind in Harmony. "Going so soon?" He stared at his own cup, watching the smoke swirl around the lip.

"I need to be debriefed. Honestly I do have plenty to share with the rest of the team." Karl paused to take a sip. "I hope to be working closely with the team at the new base. Right now no other anthropologist knows as much about Harmony as I."

"Once they build the damn thing." Even if Karl did get assigned to the new base, there was no guarantee Hank would ever see him. Ian would determine the course of his life for the next two years.

"It'll go up fast." Karl looked over to the closed door before lowering his voice as he asked. "Will you be all right?"

Hank pushed the mug away and sat back in his chair, spreading his legs, his toes clenching in the soft material that made up the floor. "I'm gonna have to be, Karl." No fucking way out of it now.

"If there's anything I can do. . ."

"Karl," he interrupted. The last thing he needed was Karl guilt tripping over leaving Hank behind. They'd been through a lot together, and protecting the civilian had been second nature to him.

"You can always comm," Karl hissed quickly. "They said you can keep yours, since you'll be working with the base."

Fuck, he wouldn't put it past Johnson and Morgan, to come in with guns blazing if Hank changed his mind. Although they'd all have to answer to the UP, since it would lose them the chance at Harmony's tech. "Thank you," he said finally, accepting Karl's offer for how it was meant.

The door to the adjoining room opened with a hiss and a ripple. Hank had never heard the shimmering doors make a sound before, so he guessed Ian had done it on purpose. He couldn't help but smile at Ian as he walked in. His body still tingled, his nipples sore and ass aching from their short scene together. Man he hoped Karl couldn't smell the sex on him.

Hank felt his cheeks burn at the thought. He looked back at Karl who had a puzzled look on his face.

"I was wondering if you'd take dinner with us," Ian said, coming up and putting his hands on Hank's shoulders.

Karl shook his head. "I have to meet the shuttle. I'm actually late already."

Suddenly Hank didn't want Karl to leave. His heart thumped wildly and he swallowed down the fear in his throat.

"You are welcome to visit," Ian said.

Karl smiled. "Thank you. I think I will."

Hank grinned back. If Ian was the only person in all of Harmony Hank could trust, he couldn't have picked a better man.

II. The waiting

The call came not long afterward. Ian had prodded them both into the shower, which was much larger than the one in Ian's own apartment. Hank enjoyed the warm water pouring down from the ceiling like rain on his sore and tired muscles, the steamy air rich with the cedar scent of the thick soap Ian used from the pumps in the walls. He felt like he'd run a marathon, despite the only real thing he'd done was have some incredible sex. They'd stumbled back to the sinfully comfortable bed. Hank nuzzled the fluffy pillow, thinking he might not mind spending the next two years as a living sex toy.

And then the tele had gone off.

"All subs and guards," the queen's voice came through loud and clear. Hank rolled over to get a good look at her face, and it looked stormy. "Search the palace and locate Sub Jensen. Contact me immediately when you find him."

The screen winked out of existence. What the hell had Ackles gotten himself into now?

Ian frowned. "I must go." He went to the large wardrobe in the corner of the room and withdrew his guard uniform, slipping it on quickly. Hank wondered if Ian had stocked the wardrobe beforehand, or if the uniform appeared simply because Ian wished it.

Hank pushed the covers back. "Where do you think he is?" He wondered where he could get himself one of those uniforms, though Hank wasn't entirely certain he could pull off the skirt. Right now he wished for his jumpsuit. Maybe if he thought hard enough it would appear in the wardrobe too.

"I'm sure if the queen knew she wouldn't have summoned the guards. What are you doing?"

Hank had slipped on his pants, though he couldn't find the sandals he'd worn when he'd entered this suite from the collaring ceremony. "Getting dressed? Don't really want to wander the halls of the castle naked, you know?"

"You're staying here."

Hank rubbed at his ear. "Scuse me, did I just hear that right?"

Ian finished lacing up his sandals and straightened to face Hank. "I don't have time to discuss this now. Henry, you will do as I say and wait here for me." And then he walked out of the room, the door rippling open long enough to let him leave before closing shut.

Fuck it, Hank would go after him barefoot. He made for the door, which stayed stubbornly closed. He slammed his hand against it. "C'mon, open." Nothing happened.

Bastard had locked him in!

***

Hank paced the bedroom, his bare feet wearing a trail in the soft carpeting. At first he had waited, hoping Ian would come back or the damn door would open on its own. When that didn't happen, he'd explored the suite, lingering in the playroom, running his fingers over the equipment in there, wondering if Ian would next bind him to the giant wooden X, or lock him in the metal cage in the corner. Hank had shivered. It was very different being willingly bound in some sexual game and locked in his room like a spoiled child.

That's when he'd turned and left, unable to stay there anymore. Hank wished for some exercise equipment, wondering if there was some trick to making things appear out of nothing. He lounged in the low couch in the sitting room, contemplating food from the Dumb Waiter, but his stomach tightened at the thought.

That put him back to pacing again, unable to relax or even try sleeping again. He gave in to the impulse and touched the glass window that stretched the length of one wall. It opened, rippling away like water pouring from a fountain and let him out onto the terrace that looked over the city. The red brick felt warm under his feet. Red trams speckled across the sky, moving more frenzied than usual. Hank wished he could see more, where the guards were looking for Ackles, whatever the hell had happened to him.

Because all he could do was sit and stew and wonder. Had Ackles run? Was this some gambit of Morgan's? Should Hank expect his comrades grappling down the building to get him out?

Hank gave up and went back inside. He could keep guessing all night - and the sun was rapidly setting - or he could sit and wait like a good little sub for his master to return.

Damn it, Ian. This, this wasn't what Hank wanted; it wasn't what he expected of Ian either. But why should he have thought that? Ian hadn't made any promises, except to abide by the contract and Hank hadn't exactly thought to put "I need a job" in there.

He wouldn't be able to deal with hours upon hours spent in Ian's little apartment, sitting on the tiny balcony, waiting for Ian to come home from doing his job. And he'd tell Ian that as soon as he got back. Hank didn't want that to be his future.

For now. . . Hank hopped up on the bed, crossing his legs at the ankles. He summoned the tele, grinning as the screen appeared at just the right height. "All right, you are gonna show me everything I need to know. . ." He was tired of operating at a deficit when it came to his place here.

***

"You will never lock me in again."

Ian should have expected Hank's stormy words and expression. He had hoped to find the other man long asleep in their bed. It would certainly make things easier. Right now Ian was far too exhausted to have this conversation.

He dropped onto an armchair, hanging his head between his knees. "I didn't intend to . . . I only wanted you to be safe."

Hank knelt before him, putting a warm hand on Ian's knee. "Hey. I probably have seen more combat than you ever will. I can take care of myself."

Ian looked up, mesmerized by Hank's bright blue eyes. He reached out and brushed a finger along a stubbly cheek. "I'm sure Sub Jensen said that as well. There are whispers he's been abducted."

"Abducted." Hank frowned, a deep furrow appearing in his forehead.

"The queen gave permission for more of your kind to enter the city. They're working some machinery on the blue level."

"Probably a bio scan," Hank's words seemed far away.

"She wouldn't have ever let them in if she thought we could find him on our own." Ian turned his caress into cupping Hank's cheek. He wanted to bring Hank back from wherever he had gone. "I can't risk you."

Hank gave him a twisted smile. "Ackles is pretty and well-trained. No one's going to steal some half-trained sub who can't keep his mouth shut."

"You do yourself a disservice."

"Ian." Hank pulled away and pushed himself to his feet, looking down on Ian. "You can't just keep me in a box. Oh, fuck that, don't want to give you ideas. No boxes, all right?"

Ian hid his grin before looking up to meet Hank's gaze. "No boxes," he repeated.

"I've looked on the tele. The subs that have other duties, get them assigned by their doms. A lot of them work with their doms. I can't just sit around waiting for you to come home."

Ian closed his eyes, feeling so weary. He needed sleep. Although he didn't miss Hank saying 'home' and it gave him hope that Hank had started to accept his place here. "There has never been a sub guard."

"Well, fuck it, when have I done anything you guys expected?"

"Hank. . ." He was so tired he was slipping, losing his control.

And then he felt Hank's gentle hands on his calves, undoing the laces of his sandals. "I'm not done arguing," he warned, slipping first one, then the other off. "But you look like hell."

Ian let Hank help him to bed. He tilted when he stood and nearly fell, but Hank kept him upright long enough to slip out of uniform before pulling down the covers and letting him crawl into bed. His eyes fluttered closed and he fell quickly into sleep.

But not quickly enough to miss Hank sneaking out of their suite.

***

He didn't recognize the girl. She was clearly Space Corps, probably a tech by the way she looked at that circuit board; Hank knew men who looked at their lovers that way. As he got closer he could see the rank pips on her collar - corporal, enlisted then. She knelt surrounded by tools and wires, the normally smooth wall of the palace somehow torn open to reveal its inner workings, although Hank wondered if Harmony had made itself what she wanted to see.

Hank had taken the lift to the blue level, not knowing where to go from there, but he'd lucked out when he found this door open. He hadn't expected the torn out wires and circuits, nor the girl who knelt at her work, so intent she didn't hear him sneak up on her.

"Someone's up late."

She jumped at his words, nearly dropping the board in her hand. He gave her a grin when she turned to look at him. Hank didn't recognize her from the Reclamation project, but he thought he might have seen her on ship once or twice.

"Sorry," she said, her cheeks flushed. "I couldn't sleep. I hate leaving a job undone."

"I'm surprised any of you is getting any sleep, what with Ackles missing." He sat next to her, peering at the circuit board. What the heck was she trying to do? None of this made any sense to him.

His eyes flickered to the trail of wires and connectors leading from the bio scanner. "So what is it you're trying to do anyway? Connect the bio scanner to the city computer? That's pretty fucking ambitious. What's it gonna do anyway? Boost the signal?"

That seemed to wake her up a bit. "I'm hoping that by giving the city tech bio scanning capability it'll screw with anyone who's trying to jam our scanners. Just what the hell do you know about it?"

Hank nearly laughed, he couldn't help grinning. "Corporal, you have no idea who I am, do you?"

"Um," she mumbled. "One of the subs?"

This time he did laugh. Why should she know who he was? Hank was dressed just like any of the subs here, half-naked with a collar to match. He caught himself tugging at his collar and snatched his hand away. "Can't blame you for thinking that. Let me introduce myself - Major Henry Tappen, Hank to my friends."

"Oh stars," she whispered, taking the hand he held out and shaking it tightly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. . ."

"Didn't know the UP sold me for access to the tech here?" He might be a bit angrier about it now, after Ian had locked him in their room. They'd given him over into another man's power with no thought to the quality of the man. It put them smack up there with the Confed when it came to ethics. He wondered how the UP had a leg to stand on when it came to fighting slavery when it hardly treated its military any better.

"No," she answered. "The terms of the trade agreement aren't public record yet. And I would have no reason to have access to them. I'm just a technician. Sir." She pushed the circuit board back into place in the wall as if in proof.

"Don't call me 'sir.' As you can see, it doesn't really apply anymore."

"Speaking of that," she began.

"He's asleep," Hank said, guessing she was asking about Ian. Why else would he be out without his master after all? "And I wanted to see how the search was going. The whole palace is freaking out about it, you know. I just couldn't sit and wait while Ian was out searching."

"And Ian is. . .?"

Hank frowned hard at her. This wouldn't get any easier no matter how many times he would have to answer.  "My master. And one of the guards here. They've been scouring the city looking while I've been twiddling my thumbs. So, really, Corporal, if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know."

"Well, anything you know about the tech would. . ." she stopped in mid sentence.

After a while, he heard it too. A low level beeping coming from the bio scanner. "I didn't do it, I swear."

She pulled herself up and moved to engage the holographic display. "I think we might have something. Do you know how the comm system works here?"

He couldn't help grinning at her. For once, his knowledge would be helpful. "Corporal, allow me to introduce you to the tele."

Everything seemed to move quickly after that. The girl - Corporal Gyllenhaal, who had eventually told him her name - went to wake her fellow officers while Hank went to Ian. He wanted to be in on this, no question about it. But he realized he did have to ask for permission first.

No matter how much he hated the thought. He had to turn it around in his head, think of Ian as his commanding officer.

Though he never would encounter a commanding officer like this, curled up in bed, lips parted and dark eyelashes fluttering against the pale sheets. Hank sat on the side of the bed, stroking his fingers through Ian's hair, hoping to wake him gently.

A strong hand seized his wrist and Ian came awake all at once, dark eyes still heavy with sleep. "Henry?"

So odd that Ian was stronger than him. "They got the scanner working. So they can find Ackles. The queen is rounding everyone up in the great hall. . ."

"Everyone?" Ian pushed himself up, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

Hank cleared his throat. "I went to the blue level to see if I could help." Fuck, he hoped admitting that wouldn't get him confined to quarters straight off. "I've been here longer than they have, I know things they don't."

Ian waved his hand, pushing the explanation away. "And? Did you?"

He really wasn't much of a help at all, except maybe by giving Gyllenhaal time while the bio scanner could work before she started taking things apart again. "Don’t think I can take the credit for it, but I was there when Corporal Gyllenhaal got the scanner working. I want to be part of the rescue mission."

"I didn't think you were especially fond of Sub Jensen."

Stars, had he been that transparent? Hank looked down at the covers, tracing a finger through the neat stitching. Ackles had been everything Hank never wanted to be. The scut was beautiful, cocky, and though he'd never shown it around Hank, submissive. His whole career had been about spreading his legs whenever required. Hank never wanted to be a whore for the UP.

"It doesn't matter if I like the guy or not," he finally said. Hank didn't know if he'd ever consider Ackles a friend, but the scut had offered to help him out and Hank would have been an idiot to ignore that. "He's Corps. We take care of our own." Although Hank didn't know if he really could be considered corps right now. "Please. Can I?"

"You're asking permission?" Ian seemed surprised. "And would you be content if I said no?"

Hank frowned. "I'd have to be, won't I?"

He waited a heartbeat before Ian finally answered. "Well, grab me some clothing then."

"What?"

"I'm not letting you go alone." Ian pushed himself out of bed. He stood there, looking magnificent and powerful just as he was, gloriously nude, his tanned skin glowing in the dim light.

Hank grinned up at him. "Fuck, yeah," he said and he hoped Ian understood that it meant 'thank you.'

***
Hank loved how Ian looked in his guard uniform - the golden breastplate gleamed in the light, accentuating his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Even the skirt - strips of brown leather - which should have looked silly, only showed off how lean and powerful Ian's legs were. Hank wondered if the uniform looked half as good on himself.

Of course he couldn’t wear his corps uniform, even if it hadn't been destroyed his first week in Harmony. For all intents and purposes he belonged to the city now, a citizen himself by virtue of the collar around his neck.

Ian looked uneasy as Hank approached him in the terrace. He didn't want Ian to change his mind now. "Don't make me regret this, Henry," he sighed. "By all rights I should send you back to our rooms."

"Hah, you already gave permission, you can't take it back!" he teased gently. When Hank saw how upset Ian still looked, he leaned toward him, cupped Ian's faced in his heads, so close their foreheads touched. "Ian, trust me, I've probably seen more combat in the last year than you have your entire life. If anything I should be worried about you."

Ian gave him a small smile at that, probably discarding the idea as ridiculous. But hey, if it made him smile, Hank was all for it. He vibrated with excitement, finally being able to do something, make use of his training. Part of him thrilled at the chance to show Ian just how capable he was. Hank did not want to be left behind again.

Hank saw Gyllenhaal look their way, but she never approached them. When Morgan and the other corps soldiers gathered he itched to join them. It wasn't that long ago he was a member of Morgan's team, following him into the city for the first time.

"We're under the command of the master guard," Ian pointed her out in a low voice as they boarded the tram. Her breastplate had intricate etchings - a pattern of leaves and plants, as well as a set of large epaulets on her shoulders.

Ian's brow furrowed, Hank worried that would become a permanent condition. "Normally you would kneel at my feel whenever we rode a tram. But these aren't normal circumstances."

And there was hardly room to sit, the entire car filled with guards and Morgan's team. "I'll stand," he said, hopefully he wouldn't draw attention to himself, since most of the other guards were standing as well.

"Sub-whipped," he heard someone hiss as the doors closed.

Ian stiffened, his shoulders tight and tense. Hank could guess what the phrase meant and now he wanted to punch someone out on Ian's behalf. He scanned the guards, trying to determine the culprit.

Before he could pursue that unwise course of action, screens flickered to life and the queen started giving her orders for the mission. Hank eyed the map that appeared, wishing he had more time to commit it to memory. This place liked buildings that doubled as mazes.

Morgan approached the front of the tram. "Listen up. Your people," he turned to the master guard, "should clear the way for us. Take down Adrian for all I care, but me and my people are going straight for Jensen."

Of course Ackles was the priority, but a dark part of Hank wondered if Morgan would assemble an army to rescue anyone else. Of course, Hank's own situation differed significantly from Ackles'. Even as the thought occurred to him, Hank realized he had it all twisted around - he might have signed his contract with Ian willingly, but Ackles had devoted his whole career to this kind of screwing around. He damn well should have considered something like this a possibility - especially with the way subs were often passed around in Harmony - a kidnapping didn't seem so outrageous.

"Stay close to me," Ian hissed as the tram began its descent.

Hank unhooked his sidearm from his belt and nodded. He wanted Ian right where he could see him, and protect him if necessary. Those spear-like weapons were great when it came to range fighting, but he couldn't see how any fight in close quarters would be anything but a clusterfuck. He was glad Ian had retrieved Hank's own weapon from wherever they'd kept the confiscated guns, reassured by it's familiar weight.

The tram finally landed - they had gone all the way to the ground, ignoring terraces above in order to get as close to Adrian's location as possible. Hank knew the duke was holding Ackles in a sub-level, which meant they'd have to fight their way down.

Adrian's palace wasn't as large as the queen's, and it seemed older somehow. Hank got a flash of dark rock and harshly cut stone, rather than the smooth sleek golden surface of the queen's tower, with dark ivy crawling along its surface. He saw tiny windows and few terraces, although he did note a massive garden, the rich greenery that seemed to somehow survive and thrive in the city.

"Go," the master guard ordered.

At first it seemed far too easy. There were only two guards standing in front of the entrance to the palace, they seemed more ceremonial than anything else. Two quick blasts of the spear weapons, and the group was through and in. Of course, they didn't expect the swarm of guards on the other side.

Hank moved with Ian, that strange calm that often infected his body when he entered combat taking over. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, the way the enemy guards grappled with their team. Instead of wayward pulses of the spear weapon, as he expected, they used them as hand-to-hand weapons, spear meeting spear as they clashed.

He punched a guard heading his way, kicking the man in the stomach while he fired his own weapon, catching an enemy guard in the shin. Hank didn't watch him go down, too busy turning and defending Ian's back.

"Keep moving for the lift," someone called and they pushed through, leaving a mess behind them for someone else to clean up.

"Having fun, yet?" Hank grinned at Ian as they made it onto the platform, the lift doors closing behind them. They were damn lucky the technology was on their side. The lifts wouldn't open for any of Adrian's men.

Ian gave him a look. "Not yet."

"We'll be moving into close quarters," the master guard warned. "The dungeons are a maze. Commander Morgan and his team should stay in the center.  When we find Sub Jensen, secure the location and then give them room."

The lift halted and the doors opened, but they were ready for the squadron of Adrian's men waiting on the other side. A few spear blasts cleared a path and they funneled out, a row of guards setting up the lines to protect those still exiting the lift. Hank found himself towards the back, still with Ian as they marched for their target.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, just enough warning to knock Ian out of the way of the incoming spear blast. Hank returned fire, shouting "behind us!" to the rest of the guard as more of Adrian's guard spilled into the corridor.

The end of a spear slammed into his jaw and Hank reeled, but didn't fall. He ducked a second blow, grabbing the end of the spear and using the guard's momentum against him, threw the guy against the wall. That was the problem with fighting in close quarters, too many walls. This is why he hated fighting on starships.

Didn't mean he didn't know how to do it.

Now Hank had a spear, he'd dropped his sidearm when he got slugged. He may not know how to fire the damn thing, but he could certainly swing it and take out a few guards at the knees. The last guy went down and he stood there, breathing heavily, waiting for the next attack.

"Come on," Ian said. "We're getting close."

And they were. The last stand of Adrian's guards was just outside a set of large doors, looking like something out of a vid he saw once - heavy stone with metal handles as large as his head. Hank shouldn't have been surprised when the doors merely shimmered open when Morgan touched them, but it still startled him, expecting them to swing outward.

Duke Adrian stood in the center of the room revealed, looking just as startled to see them. Someone took a shot at him, and then they streamed into the room, securing it so Morgan could go to Ackles.

Hank was rooted to the floor. He couldn't move inside, not after he saw Ackles bound, hanging there in agony until Morgan lowered him to the floor. Ackles's pleas for Morgan to help him had Hank turning on heel, facing the rest of the hallway instead of that dark room. His breath came in great gulps, he could smell nothing but iron and blood.

"Henry," Ian's voice brought him back.

Hank swallowed and turned towards him. He hadn't known, all the stars above. All this time, he'd mocked Ackles for spreading his legs for the UP, but he hadn't understood exactly what that had meant.

"Yes, sir?" he responded to Ian, falling back on his training.

Ian frowned at him. "We need to secure this corridor. We're bringing Adrian up to the main level."

Hank nodded. This he could do.

***

Ian had seen bad masters before, part of the Guard's job was to be on the look out for abusive doms, make sure that no sub was hurt against their wishes. It wasn't common, most of the time he'd mediated some terrible misunderstandings. Only once did he have to take a dom in for the queen's justice, someone who had gone too far during a scene and nearly killed their own sub.

He never could understand how someone could overlook their Harmony-given responsibilities. Being a master meant caring for and protecting your sub. The gift of submission wasn't something to take lightly. Ian always thought he understood that.

Now he feared he was little better than Duke Adrian, who stood and defied the queen, distaining all subs. "As if they have wills."

Ian glanced over at Hank, who glared at Adrian with fierce eyes. He had never seen Hank so angry before, although he welcomed the anger over the blankness that had been Hank's expression after they discovered Sub Jensen. What exactly had done that to his Hank? His brilliant, irreverent, radiant Hank?

"This is the trial?" Hank leaned closer to whisper as the queen called on the rest of the royal five to begin proceedings against Adrian. "Right now?"

"What better time?" Ian said. "He's been caught in the midst of his wrongdoing." No one could deny the evidence of his subs, all wearing the collar of the unwilling. Ian clenched his hand into a tight fist. The collar of the unwilling was only meant for prisoners and criminals. It should be rare, not as common as every sub in a duke's palace.

How many other subs in Pasdar wore the silver collar? Adrian's corruption would not have stopped with his court.

Ian's gaze flickered once again to Hank, wearing the blue. His stomach churned, remembering Hank appealing to him in the palace. "You have to let me go," Hank had pleaded. It had only spurred Ian to fight harder. He'd wanted Hank as his sub, only Hank, and Ian had risked everything for him.

Hank gasped, and Ian turned his attention back to the trial, away from regarding his sub. So he was a moment late to notice the body Sub Peter laid at his mother's feet. Adrian had killed the sub, using the collar of the unwilling to make sacrifices of his subs. Anger burned in his throat.

"Peter wears the black," Duke Leonard said, pointing out Adrian's only willing sub.

"He tricked me into taking it," Peter choked out. The whole story followed.

Ian's gut twisted again, the anger turning to fear. Had he tricked Henry? He thought he had played both systems - Hank's military term, Harmony's law of ownership - to get something they both wanted. But if Hank had wanted to go. . .was Ian little better than Adrian?

Sub Peter fell to the ground, coughing and choking as the queen cried out "No!"

Hank tackled Adrian to the ground, other guards jumping in to help him. Ian ran to his side, careful not to get in the way as Hank surfaced with the control device in his hand. He tossed it to Ian, a knowing look in his eyes.

Ian had used one of these on Hank once. He turned it off, wondering what it meant that Hank had deferred to him to do that.

He knew he and Hank needed to have words. The sooner, the better.

***

Hank rubbed his jaw, pleased when that didn't cause any pain. He didn't even feel any soreness. "Thank you," he told the healer sub who had fixed him. They were lucky to have so few injuries that his bruised jaw was priority enough to be seen to.

The sub - a young man dressed in a long white tunic - merely nodded and sent him on his way. There were other guards behind him, after all.

Hank went back to the suite they'd been assigned in the palace to meet Ian. As soon as they went to see off Morgan and the others, Ian told him they'd be going back to Ian's apartment in the main square of the city. So Hank would have to say goodbye to the palace's luxury.

He snorted, as if Ian's place was any less luxurious. Hank decided he needed to be careful, he couldn't get too used to the comfort of this city. Not if he wanted to go back to starship living afterward.

The door shimmered open before he even touched it. Crap, how long had Ian been waiting? Hank walked in with an apology on his lips.

Ian sat on the bed, shoulders slouched, hands clasped between his knees. He looked pensive, that furrow back in his brow. Hank wanted to run his fingers over those dark eyebrows and smooth it out.

"I'm sorry I took so long," he said, not sure what had Ian so disconcerted.

"Sit down, Henry." Ian patted the bed next to him.

Hank sank down into the soft mattress. "Sure you don't want me to kneel?" He suspected they'd be having a discussion about his behavior - sneaking out, getting himself assigned to the rescue mission.

"We need to be equals for this conversation." Ian grimaced. "As much as we can be, in our circumstances."

"Sounds like you've been thinking some serious thoughts."

Ian shrugged. He was careful not to touch Hank in any way, shifting so they could look each other in the eye. "I didn't trick you, did I Hank?"

Thoughts whirled as Hank tried to figure out what the hell Ian was on about. Trick him? Into what? Hank tugged at his collar, still not used to feeling the tightness around his neck when it occurred to him. "The fuck? You mean like Adrian?"

"Exactly." Ian's jaw was clenched so tightly Hank could see the strain in his face.

The idea of Ian being like the man who'd taken Ackles - trussed him up like an animal and tortured him, the man who'd tricked an unwilling boy into being his slave for five years, the man who killed to keep his power - was so ridiculous Hank barked out a laugh. It had no humor in it, not with Ian's eyes looking so defeated.

"Ian," he said, reaching out to touch his face, stroking his fingers along the stubble on Ian's jaw. "You do know the queen told me I didn't have to sign the contract, right?"

Ian shook his head. "What?"

"I had a choice, Ian. I thought you knew." He would never have wanted Ian to suffer like this, imagining he'd captured Hank against his will. "She gave me more of a choice than my own superior officers." No, those bastards had signed him over to do whatever the queen wanted, without even asking him, just to make sure they got their damn base.

Ian brought his own hand up and caught Hank's, lacing their fingers together. His face looked lighter already, the weight lessened. "That doesn't mean I can forget my place. Every dom is on the precipice. Any of us could fall and be just like Adrian."

"All this dirty talk is getting me hot." Hank rolled his eyes. "I can't think of anyone less like that bastard. You made me a promise, and I trust you to keep it."

Ian nodded, eyes now determined. He squeezed Hank's hand. "And I trust you to keep to the terms of the contract."

Hank wiggled a finger in front of Ian. "I still want a job. I think I did damn good today. Saved your ass."

"I think we can find something for you to do." Ian smiled. "As long as it doesn't involve you speaking to anyone."

Hank laughed. "You know you like it!"

"Maybe I do," Ian answered with a kiss.

Part 2