Dangerous Love (ONC 2019 - LGBTQ)

13. Juan

(Author's Note: for all those people who were wondering about Harlan's back story...)

Harlan lay on the ground in the main cave, on top of his jacket, having ceded his campbed to Patrick. His arms were folded beneath his head and his eyes were closed, but his brain was too busy for sleep.

He couldn't help smiling as he relived that kiss—and Patrick's unexpected response. Was he only fooling himself if he thought Patrick fancied him? True, he'd pushed him away, but surely that had been because he didn't trust him. Hardly surprising, under the circumstances. But Patrick had definitely returned the kiss.

Juan had refused to let Harlan kiss him at all. Looking back to his disastrous encounter with Juan Diaz—for the hundredth time—that should have raised a big red light of warning.

There had been several other warning signs too, as he remembered, but at the time he'd been too caught up in the moment to give them proper attention. And the alcohol they'd both been throwing back after the mission hadn't helped either.

The men they'd finally tracked to a deserted warehouse had been armed, and with laser pistols, not stunners. Laser weapons could take a man's arm off, or his head, with a single slice. They were legally prohibited but if you had enough money, you could still manage to get your hands on one.

Harlan remembered the rush of adrenaline as he and Juan crept around the back of the building, melting into the shadows while the rest of their unit kept the quarry occupied at the front.

"This is your final warning. Surrender now or we will use lethal force!" demanded Sergeant Aldo in a loud voice.

There was a crash as a piece of the warehouse wall fell to the ground. Evidently no-one was surrendering. Harlan nodded to Juan and each man switched their stunner setting to "kill". Their adversaries had made their choice.

Harlan had only killed two men before in his career. Normally, people chose surrender rather than death, but he had no compunction about killing these three. The murder of a rival gang leader's entire family, including his two small children, had put them beyond the pale.

Silently, Harlan quickly dismantled the lock on one of the higher windows and in moments he and Juan had slid inside. After that, it was easy.

The mission had taken less time than anticipated and Captain Luca gave the whole unit the next couple of days off to take as rec leave. The men with families in Syden were happy to go home, but Harlan and a few others who were booked in to the Blue Comet Inn, stayed up celebrating their success with a few drinks.

Finally, Harlan decided it was time to call it a night and he headed off to his room, a little unsteadily if the truth be told.

He had just taken off his boots when Juan came into his room. His eyes glittered and he was breathing faster than normal. He had a bottle of brandy in one hand.

Harlan looked at him in surprise. "Juan? Is something wrong?"

"I've seen you watching me," said Juan, with a knowing smile.

Harlan flushed with embarrassment. He'd had no idea Juan had noticed. As one of the few openly gay men on the ship, Harlan had always been very careful to keep any wayward feelings to himself. His relationships on board were only ever strictly professional. Anything else could cause too much trouble.

"I'm sorry," he murmured uncomfortably, but Juan was coming closer.

"I've never had a man before," he said, pouring some of the brandy into Harlan's water glass, and taking a hefty swallow. "I think it's time to broaden my horizons."

"You're kidding, right?" spluttered Harlan, but his foolish heart was leaping at the thought that Juan might want him as much as he wanted Juan.

"Nope," smiled Juan. "I want to try it with you. Let's have sex." He unfastened the top half of his uniform with one quick pull, exposing a sleek, well-muscled chest. Then he reached for Harlan.

"But... are you sure about this?" asked Harlan faintly, feeling overwhelmed. Having his private dreams come true so suddenly, was bewildering. A small part of Harlan's brain was murmuring, "bad idea, bad idea, really bad idea," but it was fighting a losing battle against lust and alcohol.

"Oh yes," said Juan, pulling Harlan's uniform open and rubbing rough hands over his naked chest and squeezing his nipples. His hands were everywhere, pulling and tugging and in minutes they were both naked and rolling on the bed. There was no gentleness, just rough urgency. When Harlan attempted a kiss, trying to slow things down, Juan wrenched his face away, panting, "I don't want to kiss you, Quinn. I just want to fuck you."

~~~

Harlan woke a few hours later in the dark, to the harsh sounds of Juan throwing up in the toilet.

He lay still for a moment, as the events of that night came flooding back in lurid detail. The retching stopped, only to be replaced by groaning. Harlan flung off the covers and padded over to the shower room. Juan was kneeling on the floor in front of the toilet, still naked.

"Can I get you anything? A glass of water?" asked Harlan, concerned.

Juan raised bloodshot eyes and his black hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead. He blinked, as if trying to bring Harlan into focus and then his mouth dropped open in horror.

"No! Oh fuck! No!" Then he flung himself back over the bowl and vomited again.

Shit! Shit! Shit! thought Harlan, his heart plummeting through the floor. His stomach clenched and he thought he might be about to throw up himself. He should have known it was all too good to be true. He went out to the dispensing unit on shaky legs and got two glasses of water. He drained one on the spot, then carried the other in to Juan.

But Juan held out a hand, palm out, as if fending him off. "Get away from me!" he hissed, struggling to his feet and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I have to get out of here."

Harlan stepped back as Juan stumbled out of the room and dressed as fast as he could, pulling on his uniform and stuffing his feet into his boots. Then, without another word, he made for the door.

Harlan was silent, struggling desperately for the right words—but there weren't any.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, uselessly.

Juan stared at him, eyes narrowed in accusation. "Not as sorry as I am, believe me!" And he closed the door behind him.