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After sending the distress call on the Earth Forces distress buoy carrier
signal, Trace headed back to the planet's surface to rejoin the rest of the
expedition. By now they should all have reached the caves, and he thought
he'd be able to land without the Drakh discovering him. He wouldn't dare try
to leave again though.
Flying in through the cave entrance, Trace was stunned to find himself
suddenly in a huge open cavern, flying over a perfectly preserved city. It
looked like the people might step out of the doorways at any second and
continue their lives. Being inside the cavern, it had been protected from
the elements so did not show the ravages of time. He could see motion over
toward the near edge of the city which had to be the xenoarcheological team,
so he headed in that direction and landed. When he stepped out, Max was
already waiting for him.
Trace expected a question about whether he'd managed to send the distress
call, but Max simply grabbed his arm and pulled him into the shadows between
two buildings. Trace was still gaping at him in amazement when Max covered
his mouth with his own, his tongue plunging inside while he rammed Trace up
against the smooth stone side of the building. He gasped as the air was
forced from his lungs and Max's mouth prevented him from replacing it. But
he decided that if his choice was breathing or kissing Max, he'd take the
kiss. He groaned into the other man's mouth, seizing the advantage and
exploring his mouth in turn, probing into every crevice and stroking over
the satiny interior and the hard ridges of Max's teeth.
Max moaned too, feeling Trace's tongue in his mouth, tasting him, and
feeling him writhe against the length of his body, pinned as he was between
Max and the building. Ever since they'd become lovers not long after
arriving on the planet, he'd been amazed by Trace's sensuality and near
instant arousal when he touched him.
When they finally had to separate or pass out from lack of air, Trace
started to laugh. "Is this what they mean by being stuck between a rock
and a hard... object?"
Max groaned in disgust, wondering at the pilot's propensity for ancient clichés
and classical references. "Thanks for at least not calling me a
"You?" Trace inquired innocently. "You mean you're
hard?" He slid a hand between them, tracing the shape of the erection
straining against his belly. "Mmm, I guess you are," he whispered
huskily into Max's mouth.
"Like you don't know what just looking at you does to me. It was my
lucky day when you were assigned to the expedition."
Max nipped his lower lip in punishment. "That's not what I meant,
and you know it." He then licked the slight wound to soothe it, sliding
his tongue back into Trace's mouth when his lips parted, one hand busily
unfastening the other man's flight suit while he tore at the fastenings of
his own attire. Soon both men were naked and panting.
Max slowly licked Trace's throat and nibbled the length of it, enjoying
Trace's moans of pleasure. He gradually worked his way down the other man's
body, pausing for some minutes at the erect nipples, lapping at the hardened
buds of flesh, then biting down as Trace gasped. When Trace was thrusting
his hips against him desperately, he continued on, nipping sharply at the
taut muscles of his belly, then probing his navel with his tongue. He
grinned at the giggles that produced; he'd soon discovered that Trace was
incredibly ticklish. He followed the widening trail of hair downward,
occasionally tugging at the hair with his teeth until he arrived at the
straining cock. He paused to admire it, measuring it with his eyes and
memorizing the sight against the day Trace would be gone. He blew lightly on
the rigid flesh, smiling when it twitched under his attentions.
Trace stared down at Max, nearly whining with need at the sight of Max's
mouth so close to his aching cock. As he watched, Max's tongue snaked out,
trailing along his length, before he took the head inside his mouth. Trace
moaned at the sensation of being inside Max's mouth, trying to thrust
forward only to be stopped by Max's grip on his hips. His head dropped back
against the wall behind him, and he gasped for air, caught up in the
incredible pleasure of Max's mouth. He could feel himself getting close, and
his moans took on a frantic undertone, alerting Max, who pulled away,
leaving him on the edge.
Trace's eyes flew open -- when had he closed them anyway? -- and he
yelped Max's name. He groaned when he saw the devilish grin on the team
"On your knees, flyboy," the archeologist commanded, running a
teasing finger over his perineum and anus.
Trace was quick to obey, eager to feel Max inside him again. He wondered
briefly if Max would ever reciprocate, but he enjoyed being taken, feeling
Max come apart inside him and knowing that he had done that to him. He
wriggled his ass impatiently, wanting Max now.
Max stared at the sculpted form at his feet for a long moment, drinking
in his appearance, before sinking to his knees between the widespread legs.
He grabbed some lubricant out of a pocket, tossing the garment back to the
ground as soon as he had what he was looking for, and applied some to
Trace's ass and to his own erection. He pressed teasingly against Trace's
entrance, rubbing against the sensitive tissues but not trying to enter him
yet. He continued to tease Trace until the other man suddenly shoved back,
taking him inside. Both of them froze, waiting for Trace's body to accustom
itself to the invasion, welcome though it was. When Trace started moving on
him, Max took over, slowly gliding in until his balls were pressed against
the other man's ass, then pulling out equally slowly. Gradually his strokes
quickened until finally he was thrusting rapidly in and out of his lover and
he reached around to pump Trace's cock with one hand. Under the dual
stimulation, it didn't take long for Trace to come, covering Max's hand and
his own belly with his semen, his spasms milking Max's orgasm from him.
They sank down to lie prone, Max still draped over Trace's back as they
caught their breath. After a minute or two, Max pulled out of Trace and
rolled over to lie beside him. Trace pushed himself to his knees and cleaned
himself up using a square of fabric he'd had in his pocket for that very
purpose. Once tidied up and dressed again, he glanced quizzically at Max
who'd also gotten his clothes back on.
"Not that I'm objecting or anything, but what was that all about?
Why pounce on me the moment I landed?"
"You scared the hell out of me with that stunt. You could have
gotten yourself killed if you'd run into a Drakh ship." After a long
moment of silence, Max asked if he'd managed to get the distress call off,
and Trace knew that the personal moment was over. Time to get back to
business. He grabbed his pack to go out and check on the Drakh, wishing that
Max would talk to him, but he never did. He sighed mentally before replying
to his last question, knowing that they might not ever get another chance.
If, however, by some miracle, they did manage to get out of there, he had
every intention of looking the archeologist up again some time.
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