An Undercover Fling

by Orfanelli Adera

  An Undercover Fling

  Adera Orfanelli

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2011 Adera Orfanelli

  ISBN: 978-1-60521-677-5

  Formats Available:

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  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Katriena Knights

  Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

  Adult Sexual Content

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  An Undercover Fling

  Adera Orfanelli

  Dealing with Garst in the bedroom is easy. Dealing with him out of it might cost Trell his career.

  Garst knew he'd have problems taking an assignment on Trell's station, but he has no other choice. Besides, three years ago a bust went down, leaving him flying off and Trell with too many questions. This time it'll be different. First, he'll have to convince Trell that he didn't mean to leave him hanging three years ago and that he wants to continue their relationship. Oh yeah, and convince Trell that what he's doing now isn't really illegal.

  Chapter One

  Trell checked the ident card of the alien coming through port, trying hard not to stare at its six tentacles and three eyestalks. All kinds came through here, and it wasn't Trell's place to judge. Apparently this was the "it" summer destination, though he thought it funny people made summer pilgrimages to places without any changing climates. He simply had to compare ident cards with the files, make sure the tickets looked legit, and scan luggage for contraband. An easy job for a guard like him, and frankly, after some of the things he'd done, Trell liked the mindless work.

  No worries, no danger. He'd lived that way for three years now, and had no desire to go back to working actual Port Intelligence cases. Some saw his move to port guard as a step down. He saw it as a step onto peaceful street.

  "Ident card, please," he intoned, his hand automatically reaching for the card.

  "Who'd you piss off to get this job?"

  The laughing baritone voice shook Trell straight to his bones. He stopped, the weight of the ident card not registering in his hand. Memories of tangled limbs and sweaty bodies, of working side by side on a mission, and of betrayal, still white-hot and painful after all these years, rushed through him. Trell closed his fingers around the card.

  He scanned it, the vivid blue eyes peeking back at him from the anachronistic plastic piercing his stupor. "I volunteered for it." He slapped the card into the man's hand. "Any bags?"

  "Aren't you going to say hello? Fuck, aren't you even going to turn and look at me?"

  Against his better judgment, Trell turned. From the unruly mop of dark brown hair to the blue eyes twinkling with mischief, and a body built for work and play, Garst Stone hadn't changed. "Garst." Trell nodded. "Any bags?"

  "Just this one." He patted the stuffed rucksack hanging off his shoulder.

  Trell waved the wand over it and, satisfied his ex-lover wasn't carrying any contraband, motioned for him to pass. "You're free to go."

  Garst didn't move. "When are you off?"

  "Why does it matter to you?" Trell countered. He glanced at the line forming behind Garst. "I have work to do."

  "It's been three years, man. Surely you can have dinner with an old friend."

  Trell tensed his jaw. "I think we were more than that, Garst. And it's been a damn long three years. I get off work at twenty hundred hours. I usually have dinner at the Rusted Wrench down on the lower level of the main court. If you want to have a meal with me, I'll be there. Now, if you'll excuse me."

  "You always were an inflexible bastard," Garst said, his chuckles softening the blow of his words. "I'll be there." Hitching his rucksack higher, he nodded and strode out of customs.

  Trell processed the next few people in line without even really noticing the cards and baggage he scanned. There could have been a spaceship full of hypno-monkeys floating behind the purple alien with scales and eyestalks, and Trell doubted he would have noticed. Damn Garst! Why now, after all this time, did he have to show up on this station? One of the reasons Trell had asked for this assignment was to get as far out of the main shipping lanes as possible. One bad round with a Tryp smuggler had been more than enough, and he still didn't know that Garst hadn't been involved.

  Except, now that he remembered, Garst's badge had been official. Which meant he couldn't have been too involved with the Tryp smuggling operation. Undercover operations always messed with his mind. Give him a good old, bang down the hatches and plasma gun the bastards kind of raid any day.

  The end of his shift couldn't come early enough, and when it finally came, Trell clocked out and hurried to his quarters for a quick shower and change of clothes. The clientele at the Rusted Wrench wouldn't care if he'd changed -- most of those guys came straight from the docks and maintenance areas in the station's underbelly -- but if Garst showed up, Trell wanted to at least be presentable. Face it, you want to be clean so he'll be more inclined to fuck you.

  Trell's cock tightened with the thought. He stepped into the bar area, not surprised to see Garst sitting at a table for two and already nursing a homebrew. He sat down and ordered one for himself, though he really didn't drink the local beer. This far below the main decks the safety of any liquid beverage was dubious.

  "Surprised you showed up," Garst said. "I left you in a pickle with the bosses. Sorry about that." He took a long drink. "Had orders to leave. Couldn't stick around to explain, you know?"

  Trell braced himself for the anger, startled when it never came. Maybe he'd gotten over the issue. He shrugged. "Port Intelligence tends to work that way. Now you understand why I took the post here." He downed the last of his brew, thinking that it wasn't half bad for third-rate beer. "The past is over and done with. The question is, why are you here? You're still with the bureau. So you're either on vacation or a mission. Which is it?"

  Garst blinked. "Vacation," he said just a heartbeat too late.

  "I see," Trell said, though he didn't. Garst had returned, and apparently still had a problem with the truth. "So you thought we could have a few drinks and strike things up where we left off?" He ordered a second drink, a rarity for him. Usually he stayed sober and alert. Tonight, with Garst returning like one of the many ghosts out of his past, he needed the filter of alcohol.

  "Something like that." Garst set his drink down with a little more force than necessary. "Look, I'm sorry I bugged out. I couldn't explain, and hell, you were so mad even if I had, I figured y
ou wouldn't believe me."

  Trell's mouth quirked into a smile at the understood fact. "I was furious with you. Thought you'd blown your cover... and mine."

  "Exactly. And when you didn't call..." He shook his head in a too-final motion.

  "Figured that was that."

  The double-talk sounded so unlike Garst. "Well, it wasn't. Suppose it is now."

  Trell stared at Garst, wondered what had actually happened, and if he should just declare it the past, dead and done. Another part figured he should back away. Go to his quarters. Alone. Safe.

  A serving bot delivered their meals, and Garst dug in. Watching him eat, the movement of his lips, the look of pleasure at the simple fare, tugged at Trell's heart. "It all worked out in the end. That's what matters."

  "Is it?" Garst set down his silverware. "Did it work out?"

  "I'm here. You're here. You think it didn't?"

  A sly smile fluttered across Garst's face. "Depends on what happens after dinner."

  "What do you want to happen?" Nothing like dangling bait before a fish. Trell smiled. He hadn't been fishing in years, not since he and Garst had gone down to that resort planet for sea bass. Still, teasing Garst had been one of his favorite pastimes, and no better way to find out what his old lover was thinking other than asking outright.

  "Whatever you want." Garst's voice lowered. "I won't lie. I thought of you, or rather of fucking you, since I made the arrangements for this visit. I won't turn you down."

  A flush of heat raced through Trell's body at Garst's bold words. His cock tightened, painfully so, and Trell took a long swallow of beer to buy himself some time to form coherent words. How about now? sounded too needy, too quick on the draw.

  And yet, with Garst, they really hadn't done it any other way. He set down his bottle and smiled.

  "So this isn't quite work and it isn't quite a vacation, but you wouldn't mind a quick screw." Trell shrugged. "I think I can arrange that."

  "I was hoping it wouldn't be that quick..." Garst's words trailed off into a big smile. "I didn't book a room."

  Trell chuckled, and just like that, things were exactly as they had been. How convenient. Then again, some crazy alien religious conference had most of the station booked. Trell had certainly seen enough attendees coming through his line at customs.

  A cleaning bot whisked away the dirty dishes, leaving Garst and Trell sitting there, nursing their beers. "So, we going to sit here all night and stare at each other?"

  Trell asked.

  "We could, if that's what turns you on. I'd rather go back to your quarters, though." Garst pushed back his chair. "You game?"

  Trell didn't miss the teasing in Garst's voice, nor did he miss the way his voice dropped. Trell paid for both of their meals, then rose from the table. "Let's go."

  * * *

  Accidental touches and a not-so-sly grope in the lift tube surely had to make Garst's intentions known. Or so he thought. Trell remained cool, though the bulge in his slacks grew with each level they passed. Finally, once they'd walked through the door to his apartment, Trell grabbed Garst's ass and spun him to press his back against the wall. The door to his unit slid closed.

  Trell pounced. Pressing his body against Garst's, he pinned him to the door.

  Grabbing Garst's hands, Trell pulled them above his head, rolling his hips as he did.

  Trell shivered as Garst brushed their cocks together. Boldly, Trell kissed him, forcing his tongue into Garst's open mouth.

  Garst made a strangled noise, then opened his mouth, softening, yielding to Trell's advances. Unable to touch Trell with his fingers, Garst lifted his hips, trying to communicate without words or touch exactly what he wanted. He'd forgotten how demanding Trell could be. Outside of the rules and regulations, the stuffy office environment, Trell became a different man. The kind of man Garst loved to fuck.

  Trell released his wrists and tugged at the uniform shirt. The highly magnetic buttons released, pinging and sticking to the wall. Now that was handy, Garst thought as Trell pulled back to draw in a breath of air. He pressed open-mouthed, wet kisses to Garst's chest, working down over the light whorls of dark brown hair between his pecs.

  Watching Trell circle a nipple with his tongue then drawing the bead into his mouth had to be one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen.

  With his hands free, he threaded them through Trell's hair, holding the man's head to his chest. Hands fumbled at his waistband, opening his trousers and freeing his cock. Trell's warm fingers cupped him, sliding along his length and drawing a bead of moisture from the tip of his shaft. Working him back and forth, Trell's hand drew him almost to the brink.

  Garst released Trell's head and pushed him away. "Wait," he said, his voice little more than a strangled rasp. "Don't want to go too soon."

  "Thought you liked it that way," Trell murmured on his way down to the floor.

  His knees banged against the metal tiles as he dropped.

  Garst winced at the imagined pain in his own knees. "It's been a while."

  "Been waiting for me?" Trell arched an eyebrow then cupped Garst's cock, drawing it close to his mouth. His warm breath tickling over the sensitive skin nearly made Garst come. His words had hit too close to home, and Garst tensed his jaw, determined not to blow it like some teenager.

  He groaned when Trell wrapped his lips around the end of Garst's shaft. A single lick teased him, and then Trell hollowed out his cheeks, taking Garst as deep as he could go. Garst balled his hand into a fist and pounded it against the wall. Damn it.

  He wouldn't grab Trell's head, wouldn't fuck his mouth. Whatever he'd imagined their reunion sex would be like, it wasn't like this. But then Trell used his tongue on the underside of Garst's cock, and coherent thoughts fled. He moaned, his hand involuntarily reaching for Trell's head, and then he was thrusting, pumping into Trell's mouth and the hottest, sweetest suction Garst had ever known.

  * * *

  Trell knew the moment when Garst lost control and smiled around the thick shaft in his mouth. Making the big man lose control was one of his little pleasures in life... okay, big pleasures, because he knew the payoff of sinking into Garst's body would be worth the throbbing in his dick. He played with the sensitive bundle of nerves behind the head. Questions might loom in his mind over Garst's presence on the station, but right now, the only question he wanted answered was how soon they'd both come.

  Garst shuddered, partially answering. His breathing grew more ragged, and Trell's name dropped from his lips like a litany. One more lick, one more twist of his tongue, and Garst came. Warm seed splashed the back of Trell's throat, and he swallowed it all. A few licks to clean up, then he pulled away, rising on shaky legs to grab Garst's hand and pull him toward the bed.

  They stumbled across the room only to fall into a pile of limbs. Clothes became a barrier to be removed. Garst pulled open the magnetic buttons holding Trell's uniform shirt closed. The fasteners hit the wall with a metallic noise, and the shirt hung from them. Husky moans and whispered sighs filled the room. Trell never felt more sure of anything as he grabbed the bottle of lube from the storage drawer beneath the bed, then smoothed the liquid over his cock.

  He massaged the viscous liquid into Garst's asshole, then pressed a finger inside.

  Garst bucked against his hand.

  "You're an aggressive bastard." Garst grabbed behind him, but from his prone position on the mattress, he couldn't quite reach.

  "You like it." Trell added a second finger, already fantasizing about how tight the muscles would be around his cock. He slipped his hand between Garst's stomach and the sheet, grabbing his cock and massaged it.

  "Damn it," Garst snarled.

  "And you always swear like a dockworker in bed." Still keeping hold of Garst's shaft, Trell used his free hand to position his cock at Garst's opening. One thrust, one sweet thrust, and he slipped past the tight ring of muscles. "Oh, hell," Trell groaned, not quite prepared for the rush of pleasure flowing through his veins. H
is cock twitched, hard as hell, and as he eased into Garst's body the years fell away.

  Just like old times, sweat-slickened skin sliding together, hard cocks and tight balls... Trell moaned as he pulled back, then thrust forward again. He struggled to hold back and try to last. He couldn't. Not with Garst beneath him, raising his ass to meet each thrust and making those little panting groans against the pillow.

  Garst stiffened beneath him. He cried out, and come washed over Trell's fingers.

  Garst's release seemed to go on forever, waves of liquid rushing through Trell's hand.

  Trell thrust forward again and gave himself over to his own orgasm. His cock twitched, and he came so hard white lights danced across his vision. Aware of Garst lying beneath him, Trell pulled out and rolled to the side of the slim bunk.

  He lay on his side, his head propped up on his hand, and looked down at Garst.

  Dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, and his lips were parted ever so slightly. Quite kissable too, and unable to resist, Trell leaned forward and kissed them. Garst sighed, though he didn't open his eyes. Asleep or playing, either way, Trell relished the warmth of his former lover lying beside him, and he grabbed a blanket from the shelf above his head to toss over them.