Passion and Promise
by Antigone

"I will stand firm in the tempest
I will ride destiny's trail
To believe when the truth comes up empty
To hold and respect without fail
Come and be one in the motion
A desire they cannot comprehend
Never to question again
For I am your passion your promise your end
Oh yes I am"
--Melissa Etheridge, "Yes I Am"

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"I can’t believe you got me like that." Wes Janson shut the door to his commander’s quarters and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Wedge Antilles looked up from his datapad and smirked. "You deserved it, Wes."

The lieutenant was dressed again, in a loose jumpsuit that was open to the waist. Wedge’s eyes followed the exposed line of hair that ran down the other man’s stomach to his navel, then cleared his throat and went back to his report.

"Don’t you have work to do, Janson?"

"No, sir." Wes licked his lips and crossed the floor of Wedge’s quarters, throwing himself onto the sofa. One leg dangled off the side, the other was propped up on the arm of the couch. He stretched languidly, then tucked his arms behind his head and gazed at his commander through heavy-lidded eyes. "I’m just waiting for your orders..."

"Hm." Wedge frowned, trying not to stare too hard at the luscious body sprawled out before him. His blood quickened as Wes fingered the zipper of his jumpsuit, pulling it down just far enough to expose his dark nest of curls. The Corellian felt himself stirring and hardening in response. Damn, but that man could get to him...

Janson’s blue eyes watched him, following every movement, and they widened in shock when Wedge turned away and focused again on his datapad. The lieutenant made a small, frustrated sound. How dare Wedge strip him naked in front of everyone, humiliate him, then refuse to make it up to him? Perhaps he had deserved the little joke, but Force Sakes! He’d spent half an hour naked in front of his lover, and he wanted some satisfaction. He wasn’t made of stone.

And neither was Wedge. Janson remembered the hot, hungry way that Wedge looked at him as they stood among the Wraiths, Wes clad in that stupid orange cloak while he took his punishment for all those pranks. The lieutenant knew that Wedge was just waiting to get him alone, then he’d slowly strip off Janson’s cloak and reward him for being such a good sport.

Minutes passed by on the chrono. Wes sighed impatiently and sat up, wondering what his commander was playing at. The Corellian was still seated at his desk, hunched over his datapad, his brown hair falling over his forehead into his eyes... Wes felt a stirring in his loins as he stood and sauntered toward Wedge, leaning over the seated man and wrapping his arms around Wedge’s shoulders.

"Don’t you know what you do to me?" he whispered, nuzzling Wedge’s soft, freshly shaven cheek. "You make me so hard..."

Wedge raised an eyebrow as he watched Janson sink to his knees, the open jumpsuit tenting at the proof of his words. The Corellian smiled inwardly, glad that his own uniform was loose enough to hide his answering bulge. He wanted Janson to suffer just a little longer; force knew that Wedge suffered often enough at the hands of his lieutenant. The hands, the mouth, the...

"Do you need something, lieutenant?" Wedge asked gruffly.

The blue-eyed Rogue ran his hand up Wedge’s leg, noting with satisfaction how the other man trembled at the touch. "You know what I need."

Wedge bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Janson would be begging for it soon. He loved to hear Wes beg, hear his voice deepen until he was growling with need.

"I need to finish this report."

Wes stared at him incredulously, then stood and roughly zipped up his jumpsuit. So Wedge wanted to tease? Well, two could play at that game.

"Fine," he shrugged, heading for the door. "I’ll find someone else to play with."

"What?" Wedge sounded outraged.

"Shalla’s pretty cute, and Force knows she’s interested..."

Wedge stood so fast that his chair shot backwards. "Hold it!"

Wes bit his lip to keep from grinning. He raised his hand to the door controls and felt Wedge grab his wrist, a little too roughly, and jerk him around to face his angry lover.

"Was that a joke, Lieutenant?" Wedge scowled and made his voice as angry as possible. He didn’t mind a little teasing but dammit, there were limits to what he would take. "Answer me. Was that a joke?"

Wes searched his lover’s brown eyes, wondering how far he dared push this. "No."

His back connected painfully with the door as Wedge shoved him backward. The commander’s hands encircled Janson’s wrists, pinning them over his head. They both knew that the muscled Rogue could break away any time that he wanted to, but this wasn’t a battle of strength. It was a battle of will, and that Wes couldn’t win. Wedge moved against him, trapping him between the door and Wedge’s body. The brown eyes were stormy now, bordering on true anger.

"You’d let her touch you?" The Corellian spoke in harsh, clipped tones. "You’d let her bed you? Have you forgotten who you belong to?"

Janson’s blue eyes were wide with desire and Wedge felt his own need rising. How he loved that look... Slowly, so slowly, the commander bent his head and kissed Wes’ neck, nibbling down to his exposed collarbone. He bit down too hard and the other man hissed in surprise.

A whimper rose in Janson’s throat as Wedge raised his head and traced the mark with his finger. "This is mine," the Corellian whispered. "No on else can touch you here."

Wes shivered and closed his eyes as his lover’s hands opened his jumpsuit, spreading the fabric. Soft, warm lips moved over his chest, teasing gently, a tongue flicking wetly at his nipple... then he cried out as teeth closed on his skin for just an instant. He opened his eyes to see Wedge gazing up at him.

"This is mine. No one touches you here."

The lieutenant gave into the sensations that Wedge was creating; the warm, lush fell of his mouth followed by the delightful nipping pain. His head fell back as his commander moved lower, marking his stomach, his hip, his thigh, until Janson was stripped naked and defenseless, writhing under his lover’s skillful touch. He belonged to Wedge, yes-- every inch of skin cried out for his touch. No one else could satisfy.

The Corellian worked his way up Janson’s leg, marking the back of his knee and the juncture of thigh and groin. He nuzzled the dark curls, inhaling the heady scent of Wes’ arousal, his tongue darting out to taste his lover’s cock.

"This is mine, Wes,: he murmured, drawing his tongue down the hard length. "Do you hear me? Mine." A strange choking whimper was the only response. Wedge stood and pressed his body against Janson’s noting with pleasure how perfectly they fit together. His hand closed around Wes’ thick erection, stroking slowly as he tenderly kissed his lover’s mouth. His own cock strained against his trousers, throbbing with the need for release, and he smiled wickedly and stepped away.

Wes’ eyes flew open and he reached for Wedge. "Please. Oh Force, Wedge, please!"

There it was, that growling, needy tone. Wedge could come just by hearing that sound. But not this time.

This time, he wanted complete surrender.

Wes yelped as cruel fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him roughly from the door. Wedge pushed him away and he stumbled, catching himself against the desk. Wedge was on him before he could recover, leaning him over the desktop, kicking his feet apart. He heard the unmistakable sound of Wedge’s belt clearing its loops and falling to the floor. He tried to raise up, but a warm hand rested on the center of his back, pushing him down again.

"Oh, no Lieutenant." Wedge’s voice was rough as his hands. "You started this." He opened his trousers with one hand; with the other, he reached for the nearest drawer and grabbed a small tube.

Janson squirmed, his smooth, broad back rising and falling rapidly. Wedge ran a finger down his spine, forcing himself to take a deep breath and relax. Leaning over his lover’s vulnerable body, he kissed the back of Janson’s neck and whispered in his ear.

"Do you need me to be reminded who you belong to?"

Wes trembled under this sudden gentleness. He felt his commander’s arousal hard against his buttocks and pushed back against it, wanting to feel him thrusting deep inside, needing to be possessed by this man, his beautiful love.

"Yes," he sighed. "Oh, yes, Commander."

A smile danced across the Corellian’s lips as he knelt behind the other man and placed a gentle kiss to his buttocks. His teeth sank in, very gently, and he whispered, "This is mine. Only mine."

Raising up, Wedge squeezed some of the lubricant onto his fingers and spread it over Janson’s entrance. Slowly, gently, he inserted one finger, then another, moving them until he found the spot that made Wes gasp and writhe.

Janson sobbed aloud when the fingers left him, then melted in delight as they were replaced by something harder, more insistent. Wedge moved slowly, careful even now, and Wes thought that he would burst with need. With a loud cry he pushed back, impaling himself on Wedge’s cock, and felt his lover at last give in to this all-consuming need.

They moved as one, bodies glistening with sweat. Wedge stood up straight and wrapped his hand around Wes’ member, watching with delight as his lover arched and sighed beneath him. His passage was so warm, so tight, it gripped Wedge’s cock, drawing moans of wonder and joy from his lips. He ran his hand down Janson’s back, then leaned over and kissed his spine, tasting the sweat that beaded on his skin. What perfection, what beauty, and all of it his.

Words fell from Wedge’s lips, his voice cracking with need-- words of love and desire, of sweetness and pain. Wes moaned, begging him to move faster, harder, and he obliged, thrusting deep into his lover, stroking him firmly even as his own control shattered and he groaned, spilling into Wes’ willing body. A heartbeat later, Wes gave one last thrust and cried out, coating Wedge’s hand.

The lieutenant lay sprawled against the desk, floating above his body. Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him upright, then he was sitting on Wedge’s lap on the sofa, his head on Wedge’s shoulder. They were silent for a while, listening to the sound of each other’s hearts. Wes sighed and kissed his commander’s neck, noting that Wedge had taken a moment to put himself back together before giving in to this tenderness.

He smiled lazily and traced the line of buttons on Wedge’s shirt. "I should make you jealous more often."

"Hm." Wedge gave him a stern look, then gently rubbed his lover’s stomach. "I think you’ll have a bruise here, from the desk."

Wes shrugged and closed his eyes, resting against his lover’s chest. "I don’t care, so long as I’m yours."

The men held each other, Wes’ head tucked under Wedge’s chin, until the Tanaabian ventured to speak again. His voice was quiet, needful. "Am I yours?"

"Yes you are." Wedge gently placed a kiss to Janson’s temple. "You are mine, and I won’t let anyone take you from me."


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