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Love at Zero Gee	By : Ceefax Category: M through R > Mission to Mars Views: 1074 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Mission to Mars, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Love at Zero Gee
- 1
Love at Zero Gee.

By Ceefax.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or settings and I am not making any money from this.

Thanks: to Liberty Crusader for the betaing.

Notes: Terrible movie, pretty pretty men. Whatcha gonna do?

***

�Please, honey...� Terri gave her husband's hand a squeeze. �Don't go all macho on me now...�

�Thought you liked that...� Woody defiantly muttered.

She sighed, theatrically. �Look, he's hurting, we both know he is. You're his friend � the least you could do is give him someone to talk to...�

�Well, no, the absolute least I could do is get up to the cockpit and make the adjustments.� He waved the sheet of paper covered with his scrawling handwriting.

She shoved playfully at his shoulder. �Fine, be a heartless stereotype, then.�

�Sir,� he prompted.

She snapped to attention and gave him a sarcastic salute. �Fine, be a heartless stereotype, sir.�

He nodded his approval, a carefully serious expression on his face. �Better,� he said, heading for the ladder leading off the habitation deck. Phil was hooked onto a workstation, earphones on, foot swaying vaguely back and forth, sucking at a package of something, and tapping keys on the console before him with his free hand. He wiggled his fingers as Woody ascended.

He reached the central corridor and moved through the decreasing gravity with effortless grace born of practice and training.

Jim was in the cockpit, scrolling through images of Mars' surface. He looked up as Woody grabbed the rail beside the door and gave him a brief smile.

Woody smiled back and pulled himself into the tiny cockpit, manoeuvred himself to his seat, and fastened the strap over his waist.

He was soon absorbed in the minuscule corrections he'd spent the morning patiently calculating. Ten minutes later he was distracted by Jim floating slowly into his field of vision. He met his friend's eyes and was almost shocked by the bright smile that suddenly spread itself across Jim's face. He grinned back, realising how long it had been since he'd seen that infectious smile. His internal 'crap-Terri-was-right' meter jumped up a notch.

"What're you so happy about?" he asked, then immediately realised what a perfectly stupid question that was.

But Jim didn't seem to mind. "I love it out here," he said, his eyes returning to the window before them. "And I'm glad to be here. Regardless of the circumstances."

Woody put a comforting hand on his friend's arm, then chuckled softly with embarrassment as the smaller man floated away in the opposite direction as a result.

"Sorry," he said with a rueful smile. Jim grabbed the chair and pulled himself back. The two men exchanged an amused glance, then turned back to the view.

Before the pause could become an uncomfortable silence, Jim said "it's not as weird as I thought it'd be."

"Hmm?"

"Out here without Maggie." Pause. "With you."

He turned to Woody with one of his more intense stares. Woody's mind snapped back to a motel room in the middle of winter, when they were much, much younger... Struggling against the memory, he desperately racked his brain for something reassuring and comforting to say; but he had never been good with this emotional stuff, and he managed only some inarticulate stammering.

Jim took pity on him. He reached out with the hand that wasn't being used as an anchor and stroked Woody's cheek. "I know what you mean."

Woody swallowed. "Glad one of us does."

Jim dropped his hand from face to shoulder. "D'you ever wonder about that? What might've happened if we'd... tried harder to make it work?"

"What about Maggie?"

"She's not here, Woody."

Shit. Open mouth, insert foot.

"But... what I meant was... suppose you and me were still together when you met Maggie? I'm not gonna try and kid myself, you'd have dumped me in a second."

"I would not."

"Would so. Besides, I don't think she'd've given up without a fight. Remember who asked who out in the first place?"

"Well, maybe if I told her I was gay..."

"But you're not. Not entirely. And you didn't, and we didn't, and you two did."

With a gentle shove to Woody's shoulder, Jim turned himself to face the window. "Sometimes I wish I'd never met either one of you."

Woody sighed, grabbed his friend by the waist and pulled him back into an awkward hug. "No, you don't. You love us, and we love you."

Jim tensed, and drew in a deep, shaky breath.

Keeping one arm around Jim's waist, Woody released himself from the straps holding him into the seat. He then secured the other man in a firm hug. Jim rested his head on Woody's shoulder, his arms coming hesitantly up to return the embrace. He swallowed hard, then leaned back to meet his friend's eyes. "Sorry," he said, looking a little embarrassed.

Woody squeezed him quickly. "Absolutely nothing to be sorry for."

"Now this does feel weird. What would Terri think if she walked in?"

"Floated in. And she only just got through telling me how you needed a good talking to."

"Really?" he asked, looking curious. "What about?"

"She just thinks you need someone to talk to." He shrugged. "You know how she is..."

"And you never did tell her about us," Jim said quietly, extending a hand to deflect them away from an approaching wall.

Woody just shook his head. "It wouldn't seem right. Not after this long..."

"Which makes this even weirder. Don't you think?" He snagged the handrail by the door as they spun slowly by, bringing them both to a stop.

Woody grinned nervously. "You're not going to try and take advantage of me, are you?"

Jim used the door handle to send them into a slow spin, ending with him sandwiched between Woody and the flight console. "I think you've got the advantage right now, Skip."

For a few seconds, as they slowly rebounded off the console, they stared intensely into each other's eyes. Then they both burst out laughing.

"You're an idiot," Woody said affectionately.

Jim craned up and kissed him on the forehead. "Why else would I be on your mission?"

"You know your place, that's why."

He grinned devilishly into Woody's face, leaning in to kissing distance. "And what exactly is my place?"

Woody suddenly realised that his friend wasn't kidding any more. "Uh, Jim?"

"Yes?"

His carefully planned explanation of why it was vitally important for Jim to leave the cockpit, now, alone, vanished from his mind as a small, soft hand crept down from the small of his back to cup his left buttock. He shut his eyes, blocking out the face of his friend and first lover, and reached out blindly for anything to use as leverage. Jim took the hint and moved his hands to more neutral territory.

"Sorry," he muttered, staring intently at Woody's shoulder. "I just thought..." He attempted to struggle away from Woody, but the other man did not let go. Instead he tightened his grip and pulled them close, resting his cheek against Jim's.

"It's fine. Really. If Terri wasn't..."

"I know," Jim interrupted, sounding close to tears, although he was disguising it as best he could. "It was stupid, I'm sorry..." He trailed off before his voice could give him away, but the way his grip tightened spasmodically told Woody all he needed to know.

He lifted one hand to gently stroke though short, dark hair. With the other he grabbed the back of the seat before Phil's station and carefully guided them in. Jim had buried his face in his shoulder. He manoeuvred them down into the seat, leaving him sitting normally, the safety belt fastened across his thighs, and Jim perched on his lap, kept in place only by their tight grip on one another. He then used one hand to slowly rub up and down his friend's back, while the other alternated between running over his hair, enjoying the soft prickle under his palm and fingers, and delicately tracing over his cheeks, wiping away any tear tracks he found.

Under the once-familiar ministrations, Jim soon calmed. Woody leaned back to look into reddened eyes and a small lopsided smile. "Better?" he asked, gently.

"And I thought I was over you," Jim muttered ruefully, half to himself.

"Allow me to impart a little of my extensive knowledge of the world."

"This should be good."

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

With a soupçon of sarcasm: "of course. Please continue."

"The only way to get over someone is to cut yourself off from them completely. Get rid of everything to do with them, and then you can forget they ever existed. We didn't really do that."

"I'm glad."

"So'm I."

The kiss felt so natural that it was several minutes before Woody remembered that he had decided not to cheat on his wife, and by that time he had made a further decision that he didn't care.

Jim cradled his face between his hands, easily controlling both their movements. He pushed his tongue forward, lapping gently against the roof of Woody's mouth, the enthusiastic reaction making him smile against his friend's lips.

When they pulled apart Woody managed to gather his senses sufficiently to ask, "should we really? I mean, the others..."

"Do you want to?" Jim whispered in his ear, then darted the tip of his tongue forward to follow his words.

"Mmm... yeah..."

"Then do it."

"Typical of us, I suppose, picking the stupidest possible time..."

Jim pulled him forward and silenced him by sucking his tongue into his own mouth. Woody moaned enthusiastically and hugged Jim lightly around the waist. When they broke apart Jim simply stared at his friend with pleasure-glazed eyes; leaned back, using Woody's arms to keep himself anchored, and pulled his shirt off over his head. For a few seconds he simply held it, uncertain exactly what to do with it, and distracted from logical thought by Woody's tongue lapping at his nipple.

"Put it in the overhead," Woody murmured, the warm puff of air over wet, sensitive flesh making Jim gasp. He craned upwards and tucked the fabric safely away. Woody took advantage of the changed position to lick at Jim's navel. As he pulled himself back down to the chair, Woody's tongue travelled up his torso, over his chest, and lingered at his neck. Jim rolled his head back, revealing the length of his delicate, space-pale throat, and Woody kissed his way upwards until their mouths met again.

For a long time they simply kissed, Woody's hands gently rubbing over Jim's naked back. "Shouldn't we make this quick?" Jim finally protested. "After all, we might not have much time..." The lazy, contented tone of his voice did not quite fit with his words.

Nevertheless, Woody took the suggestion at face value. "Let me up, then." Jim gave him a silent pout of disappointment. "Well, I can hardly do much tied to the chair, can I?" Jim smirked. Woody glared. Jim reached for the handholds above him and pulled himself away from the chair. Woody freed himself and pushed away, stopping his forward motion against the ceiling. He pulled his own shirt off and handed it to Jim, who hovered near the storage compartments, gazing with appreciation and anticipation.

"How're we going to... Maybe we should go down to the habitation deck?"

Jim grinned at him. "There's a few tricks Maggie and I worked out. Give me the rest of your clothes."

"You and Maggie?"

"Don't tell me you and Terri have never..."

"Well, not really. A bit, but..."

He shook his head in mock despair. "You used to be fun. Take your clothes off."

Woody looked him up and down. "That'd hardly be fair, would it?"

Fine, if you're going to be shy about it..." Keeping his eyes fixed on Woody's, he quickly stripped, breaking his gaze only when he turned to tuck the rest of his clothing away. "Your turn."

Instead of obeying, Woody launched himself across the tiny cockpit and grabbed Jim around the waist, sending them both into a wild spin.

Jim burst out laughing and hung on tight, leaving the other man to deflect them off any oncoming walls. Woody shifted slightly against the firm erection that was being pressed into his thigh, and Jim moaned softly into his ear. He reached down between their bodies and cradled his friend's genitals, kneading softly.

Jim leaned back and focused on Woody's face. His fingers tugged fitfully at the waistband of Woody's trousers. "Can we get rid of these?" he breathed, his naked skin beginning to darken with the first flush of arousal. He gave Woody his best pleading look.

Woody crumbled. As soon as he was naked, Jim pounced, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. Woody yelped with surprise, then twisted desperately away as Jim began to tickle his ribs. Unfortunately, suspended in mid-air with no leverage, there wasn't a lot he could do except vainly attempt to swat Jim's hands away. "Get the hell off me, you crazy..." The rest of his sentence was muffled by Jim's mouth. He wrapped one arm around Woody's shoulders, the other hand firmly affixing itself to his groin.

He reclaimed his tongue and asked, breathlessly, "you want me to go away, then...?"

"Come here," Woody gasped, pulling him close. They bounced off the wall, but barely noticed as two sweat-slick shafts moved together, and tongues twisted.

Jim finally dug his nails into Woody's back to persuade him to stop. "Ow," he complained, cuffing Jim lightly across the head.

"Hey, stop it."

"Okay..." he fastened himself onto Jim's mouth again.

Jim struggled free. "No, no, wait..."

"What?"

In answer he simply grinned, grabbed the wall, and rotated himself through a hundred and eighty degrees. "It's the easiest way," he explained, "and you don't have to clean up after..." his explanation abruptly cut off as Woody decided he'd grasped the basic principle, and delicately licked at the very tip of Jim's fully-erect penis. "Don't tease..." he gasped, then leaned forward and took as much of Woody into his mouth as he could. Woody yelped, his back arching, the movement making them begin to drift apart. Jim locked his arms around Woody's hips, holding him still. Woody followed suit, and Jim could feel his hands squeezing and massaging his thighs.

Woody sucked the full length of him into his mouth, and Jim (with difficulty) pulled his attention back to his own efforts. He was out of practise, and Woody's cock, although slim, was quite long. Although it had been a while, the taste was comfortingly familiar. Their movements had resulted in a slow, gentle spin in the centre of the room; he opened his eyes and peered long enough to verify that they weren't likely to crash into anything soon, then refocused on what he was doing with his teeth and tongue.

His arousal grew, and instinct and habit took over as rational thought gave way. Inspired by the wonderful feelings that were happily piling up in the brain, he freed his mouth (receiving a gentle chastising nip in return), quickly licked at his first two fingers, then lapped rapidly over the head of Woody's swollen cock, while reaching behind with his freshly lubed fingers.

Woody had apparently anticipated his action, Jim encountered soft, relaxed flesh. He felt the body against him shiver as he pushed the first finger in. Woody slipped halfway off his cock and swirled his tongue around the tip, making him briefly lose track of what he was doing. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure and suppress the instinct to thrust forward. Then he swallowed (making Woody moan) and began moving his finger, trying to find the familiar spot at such an unfamiliar angle. Woody's hand clutched suddenly and desperately at his buttocks, and Jim slowly added the second finger, his body reacting with pleasure to being so spread and exposed.

He rubbed his fingertips with the same rhythm as his tongue and throat, and brought his free hand up to gently squeeze and caress Woody's balls. After a few minutes, Woody's returned the gesture. The abrupt rush of pleasure took him by surprise, and brought to his attention how close he was. He didn't want it to end so soon, but on one level he was glad. The quicker they were, the less likely it was that they would be discovered, and in the back of his mind, doubt and regret were beginning to surface...

The interruption of his own feelings made him miss the familiar signs that Woody was just as close as he was, and he was startled away from his warm world of guilt when his friend came hard in his mouth.

He slid most of the way off and swallowed hastily, managing to catch it all, then gave a pitiful moan to bring Woody's attention back to him. After a brief pause, during which Jim could feel hot, heavy breath against his impatient cock, he was rewarded. Jim pressed his cheek against warm flesh and softly prickling hair and held on tight, lapping at the last few drops as they appeared. Woody had latched enthusiastically back onto his weeping shaft, and it took only a few seconds for him to come just as hard as Woody had. He cried out softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

Woody manoeuvred them until they were face to face again, and they clung to each other, soft, over-sensitive cocks pressed gently together, lips touching. Jim wrapped his arms tightly around Woody's waist and rested his head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have pushed you into this..."

He was silenced by a firm slap on the rump. "Shut up, Jim. You could never force me to do anything, remember?"

Jim leaned back to give him a mock glare. "Like hell I couldn't."

"You couldn't," Woody protested.

Jim snorted with laughter. "We'd better get dressed," he said reluctantly, giving him a final squeeze, and hooking on to a nearby console to pull himself up to the storage compartment. It took them a while to organise the tangled mess and pull on various rumpled garments, especially as they kept pausing to kiss. When they were both fully clothed and looking respectable they left the cockpit.

***

That night Woody stayed awake and watched Terri sleep. He had originally planned to be honest with her, but hadn't been able to face telling her, and now he suspected that he'd never find the courage to come clean.

He sighed deeply and turned away to face the wall. "This is such a mess..." he whispered to himself. "How am I ever going to fix this...?"

***

Coda:

***

Gloved fingertips skittering across his only hope, then nothing. The numbness of movement in frictionless space. Voices in his helmet, his own breath, his heartbeat.

His heart was pounding. He could feel the throbbing behind his jaw, hear it in his ears.

Before him, lit by the sunlight reflected from the Martian surface, three tiny, fragile creatures, laced together.

Terri, her voice a suppressed mixture of tears and fury, fighting to save him. Jim, silent and shocked, taking refuge in rationality.

He touched his fingertips to the glass over his lips.

So, this was how it ended.

***

The end.
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Love at Zero Gee