Disclaimer: The characters and settings of the following work of fiction are borrowed without permission but with affection from Glen Morgan & James Wong, Hard Eight Productions , and Fox, who retain their copyrights. The situations aren't their fault.

The story is rated NC-17 for explicit male/male sex . If the concept distresses you or you are underage, please do not read further.

Author's note: I wrote this story way back in January and tweaked it slightly after Angriest Angel aired. However, I have not altered it in light of R&R, so my assumptions about Hawkes' background don't match Morgan and Wong's (I still want to know how they think he earned a living on the streets....)


Comments welcome at Carol Stoneburner © 1996



Carol Stoneburner

Hawkes paused outside of the door to Colonel McQueen's cabin. He wasn't sure why he was here, only that he'd been told to show up now. He'd been trying to figure out what he'd done wrong this time. Deciding that making McQueen wait would only make him mad, Cooper knocked.

"Enter," came the terse reply.

Releasing a long-held breath, Hawkes pushed the door open. In front of him stood the colonel in full dress uniform.

"You asked to see me, sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant." Cooper shivered at the frozen edge to McQueen's voice as his superior officer ran an assessing gaze over him.

"Come here." McQueen's voice was clipped, emotionless.

Cooper went over to where the colonel was standing and waited, feeling his gut tighten and his pulse quicken. Hawkes stood silently, waiting.

His commanding officer turned and laid his hat on the desk then started to undo the jacket with careful, precise motions. "Hold these," the colonel said handing Hawkes the neatly folded garment. Hawkes took it with both hands. The shirt and undershirt followed quickly. Leaving Cooper standing there, hands full, McQueen disappeared from Hawkes' line of sight and into the bathroom.

"Sir?" Hawkes finally broke the silence, knowing even as he did it, that he would regret it. Soon.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Why did you call me here, sir?" "

You may put the clothing on the desk."

Hawkes obeyed.

McQueen returned from the bathroom. Hawkes had never seen him dressed that way before. The colors were normal enough for McQueen, stark black and white, but the materials and cut displayed rather than covered him. The fact that McQueen even owned stuff like this stunned Hawkes. These clothes summoned images of the dark, frightening months after he first escaped the In Vitro facility. There hadn't been a lot of ways for a young tank with no papers, no friends and no skills other than killing, to make enough money to stay alive. He'd seen too many men dressed like McQueen, then.

Glossy black leather riding boots held McQueen's muscular calves in a firm embrace. Flowing out of the tops of the boots were paper thin leather pants of a matching hue molding themselves to the sculpted muscles beneath. They were laced so tight that they looked painted on. At his crotch, the leather lacings strained to contain his evident desire. Above the thick leather belt came a heavy silk shirt, half-buttoned, its brilliant white accentuating the faint flush suffusing the normally pale skin beneath.

McQueen replied, finally answering Cooper's forgotten question, "I want you. You want me."


"Or did I misunderstand the way we've been looking at each other?"

"No...I don't know..."

"Come here."

Coop wanted to say that he was scared, but he already knew what McQueen's answer to that would be. He wanted to tell him he wanted to stop or slow down or something, but he knew it was a lie. Through his uncertainty, he could feel a familiar fire building in him. McQueen continued to stare at him as he hesitated, caught in indecision. Finally, he closed the space between them and met McQueen's eyes.

In one fluid and unexpected movement, McQueen grabbed Hawkes by the hair and pulled him down into a long, bruising kiss. Cooper's open-mouthed shock gave way to active participation as McQueen's tongue invaded. He answered each demanding thrust with one of his own, then sucked hungrily at the invader. Hawkes felt his body responding to the raw lust that flowed between them.

Still locked lip to lip, Hawkes felt McQueen's free hand move to the zipper of his flight suit. That garment and those beneath melted away under McQueen's scorching touch leaving Cooper standing naked in a pool of cloth. Only then did McQueen break the kiss, pulling back to admire the body before him. McQueen stepped closer to Hawkes and placed both hands on the younger man's shoulders, forcing him to kneel.

"Give me your hands."

Images of other voices, other hands, flooded his mind. Ignoring the part of himself which demanded resistance, Cooper did as he was ordered. Apprehension and anticipation knotted his stomach. McQueen took Hawkes' hands and placed them on the buckle of his belt. His firm grasp dragged Cooper back to the present.

"Do it."

Cooper moved rapidly to unfasten the solid buckle. It was smooth and hard to his fumbling touch. Undoing the laces restraining McQueen's bulging erection, he could feel the heat radiating from the body beneath his hands. He glanced up into steely gray eyes for permission before he peeled back the tight leather.

Receiving it, he carefully lifted McQueen's erection out of his pants. The sweet tang of warm leather combined with human musk in a heady perfume. One hand wound it's way through his hair, urging him forward. The other traced the back of his neck, one fingernail rasping his navel. Cooper exhaled, not realizing until that moment that he had been holding his breath. Leaning forward, he let the hands guide him toward McQueen's groin.

Taking the rosy tip into his mouth, he laved it, tasting salt. He felt McQueen's cock grow even harder as he teased the slit with his tongue and felt an answering hardness in himself. At an encouraging pressure at the back of his head, he relaxed his throat and jaw and swallowed the engorged shaft. His throat muscles worked and he could feel the tension building in them both.

Just then, Hawkes felt the implacable hands shift from scalp to shoulders, first pushing him away, then turning him around. His pulse started to race. Cooper started to struggle as old memories welled up from where he'd buried them, the ghosts of cruel pain and terror rising up to haunt him. He tried to get up but the hands on his shoulders held him fast. His desperation increased, and he put his training to good use in his attempt to escape, but the man behind him was better positioned and more experienced. Each time his sweat-slicked body managed to break a hold, it was caught in another, firmer one. All too soon Cooper found himself face down on the floor, his arm locked painfully to one side, holding him in place. They stayed like this for a moment, panting, then the pressure on his wrist eased fractionally.

"If you don't want this, all you have to say is 'stop'. It's that simple," McQueen breathed in his ear. Then, he released Hawkes altogether.

Remaining fear and reburgeoning arousal warred with each other, leaving Cooper paralyzed, unable to think or move. He could feel the hard flooring pressing against his bare skin. Slowly, the arousal won out, the desire to give himself to McQueen, to have a purpose, an inescapable seduction. Taking a deep breath, Hawkes replied in an unsteady voice, "Do it."

Hands grasped his hips, pulling him to his knees. The hands moved inwards in a rough caress, separating his ass. Then a moist finger was circling, easing in, urging him to relax even as it enflamed him further. A second finger joined it, causing him to whimper in pained desire as it reached deep to manipulate his prostate, encouraging the welcome of the invaders. When the third finger was added, stretching him wide, it was almost too much. Too much pain, too much pleasure. As the tormenting ache transmuted into aching need, he began to move of his own accord, the drive for more and deeper stimulation urging him on. He gasped as the fingers pulled out, replaced by McQueen's cock, filling him with one long, aching thrust.

After a brief pause the strokes began, steady and regular, measuring McQueen from tip to root. Hawkes could feel the caress of leather and silk on his thighs and back, the tip of teeth and tongue on his navel. Slowly the pace increased and the thrusts grew shorter, more violent. Then they stopped. An excruciating pause followed, then the thrusts resumed and the cycle started once more, and yet again. Cooper groaned in frustration. As McQueen pounded into him, Cooper begged for completion, terrified that it might come. At last the strokes grew shorter, more urgently erratic, until, with one last shuddering thrust he felt McQueen's warmth fill him.

Sated, McQueen collapsed across Hawkes' back.

Cooper knelt there, his muscles tensed and trembling. His entire body ached for release but he couldn't do anything about it himself without tipping McQueen onto the floor. And to ask.... He felt McQueen stir, slowly withdrawing from his body. A hand traced down his spine and he shuddered, so close. "Sir...?"

No response.

Once again, he felt a hand at his shoulder. This time it was more gentle, raising him up from his hands to rest only on his knees. McQueen stood before him. He had rid himself of the rest of his clothing and stood naked in front of Hawkes, nipples erect, skin still flushed from his orgasm. His cool blue eyes appraised Hawkes. Cooper drank in the sight of McQueen standing before him, a vision of compact muscle and smooth skin. His breathing became more ragged, and he reached for his cock, craving release. But McQueen denied him with a single shake of his head. Cooper's hand stopped. His entire body was trembling now. He reached out to McQueen, begging wordlessly for relief. The barest hint of a smile appeared on the colonel's face, and he shook his head again.

Hawkes barely contained a whimper, terrified that his pleasure would be denied altogether. McQueen stepped forward, his hand reaching to caress the side of Cooper's face. He tilted Cooper's head up to look him in the eye, and said, "Now." A few strokes, and Hawkes was shuddering to his own orgasm, lost deep in blue eyes like a bird in the twilight sky. Eyes that had seemed steely gray only moments before. Eyes that burned themselves into his memory even as the blackness claimed him.

He came to, not on the hard floor as he expected, but in a tangle of sweat-soaked cloth in his own bunk. Carefully he stuck his head out to peer at the rest of the 58th. All seemed to be sleeping soundly, too exhausted by their recent ordeal on Kazbek to stir. Cooper breathed a sigh of relief.

Hawkes lay back, trying to put the dream-images out of his mind and get some rest. It didn't work. The clammy blankets and his over-active mind chased away any chance he had at sleep. Finally, Cooper gave up. Going quietly over to his locker, he got a clean change of clothes and headed off to shower.

Needles of cold water pricked Hawkes' skin, rinsing away the last physical traces of the dream. He wished it was as easy to wash away the pictures in his mind. Even the icy water couldn't remove the lingering heat of McQueen's imagined touch. Still thoroughly aroused despite the physical chill, Cooper put on a clean flight suit and headed off through gray corridors to the recreation area.

The virtual Chigs were having an unusual run of luck. Normally the gun was a comfortable extension of his body, but tonight it was awkward and alien. Hawkes' brain and body refused to communicate. Instead of hard plastic and metal, his hands imagined firm flesh. In place of imaginary enemies he saw images of McQueen, naked. Nothing was right anymore. After he was "killed" for the fifth time he left.

He toyed with the idea of going and getting drunk, but realized that he didn't have enough credit left on his drink card to make him forget his dream. Besides, the last thing he needed was another reason to feel like hell in the morning. He headed to the observation deck instead.

Normally Cooper didn't like looking out the port on the deck. The vast array of stars was frightening here in a way it never was in his Hammerhead. It made him feel like he didn't matter, and he'd felt that way too much in his short life. He hoped that, this time, thinking about uncountable stars and unimaginable distances would make his thoughts of McQueen not matter, but the cold gleam of the stars reminded him of the glint in McQueen's eyes there at the end. Everywhere he went his dream pursued him. Escape seemed impossible.

Hawkes sighed. Only one option remained. He didn't want to take it, but he was out of ideas. He had to go talk to McQueen. The colonel had told him if he ever needed to talk, he'd listen, anywhere, anytime. He remembered another night when he'd come to McQueen's quarters to talk about a nightmare. It was after the mutiny on the Mac Arthur, after he'd killed his sister. He'd dreamed about the facility, when the Monitors wanted him "erased", and how he'd escaped. The colonel had sat and listened as he told about his dream and about how he killed the Monitor. McQueen hadn't said much, just listened. McQueen was good at listening. This time was different, though. It wasn't just about him. It was about both of them, and he didn't think that McQueen was going to like it. Hawkes squared his shoulders and set out for officer's country.


As he turned down the corridor towards McQueen's cabin, Hawkes heard the scream echoing towards him. The cry spurred him to action, all thoughts of his own problems forgotten. Panting, he drew to an abrupt halt outside of the colonel's quarters, unsure of what to do. Instinct's desire to go crashing in fought with discipline's warning to precede with caution.


A second outraged howl reverberated through the hatch. Instinct won, and he charged into McQueen's quarters, heedless of the consequences.

The lights in the room were out, but Hawkes could see no sign of an intruder.


No response.

"It's Hawkes, sir..."

Cooper turned on the lights. He saw McQueen tossing in his bunk, fighting off the blankets as if they were an enemy. Seeing this man so vulnerable made Cooper uncomfortable. Not sure what else to do, he turned to leave. Just then McQueen gave an anguished moan. Hawkes decided he had to take a risk. Gathering his courage, Cooper reached out to shake his CO by the shoulder.

Accustomed to Vansen's sleepy disorientation, Hawkes, instead, found himself faced with a ferocious attack. McQueen had grabbed the hand that woke him, using it to spin Cooper around into an arm lock twin to the one in the dream. Adrenaline flooded Cooper's body, making his heart race and his cock harden. The two of them stayed, frozen in position until, all at once, McQueen released Hawkes and abruptly got to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing here, Hawkes?" McQueen demanded, his voice sharp-edged.

As Cooper scrambled upright, he caught a fleeting look of embarrassment on the colonel's features.

"You said I could come if I needed to talk..." Hawkes answered defensively.

"Did it ever occur to you to knock, Hawkes?"

"I did knock, you didn't answer."

"Then why did you come in?"

'You screamed," Cooper felt his stomach drop and his blood sing,"...twice."

McQueen turned away and paced over towards his desk, every move taut with barely controlled emotion. He stared a moment at a leather bound volume resting there. After a long pause, he unclenched angry fists and visibly gathered himself. Turning to Hawkes, he said in a more normal voice, "What do you want to talk about?"

The abrupt change of topic and manner further confused Cooper. It was Hawkes' turn to be embarrassed. He felt the blood rushing to face. "Well, I..." Now that he had McQueen's undivided attention, he couldn't say it. "I had this dream. About you -- us."


"Uh, yeah, together, like, you know..." answered Hawkes, ducking his head. This cold reality was nothing like the heat of his dream.

"Together how, Cooper?" a faint exasperation tinged the listener's voice.

"I mean, you know...sex," Cooper brushed his bangs out of his eyes, avoiding McQueen's steady gaze. If he hadn't been in trouble before, he was certain that he was now.

A lengthy pause followed, broken at last by McQueen's sigh.

"You dreamed about us having sex?" McQueen straightened up, trying to rub the last of the sleep from his eyes. "And how did you interpret that?"

Coop stared at him, at a loss. The idea that his subconscious mind might be trying to tell him something other than what it had shown was new to him. "I dunno...I thought...." He paused. "Maybe I better go back to sleep." He turned and began to move to the door.

"Hawkes!" He stopped as McQueen came up behind him. "You woke me up and wanted to talk, so talk!" Cooper turned to face the colonel.

"It's normal, Hawkes." continued McQueen. "You're confused. You didn't choose to be here. But part of you likes it. You're trying to make sense of the connection between us. I'm your CO. We're both In Vitros. You want family. The dream is just your mind's way of sorting things out. Don't worry about it." His voice was quiet and rational. Soothing. Not like the dream.

Coop shook his head, still not meeting McQueen's eyes. "No."

"No? No what?"

"It was about sex." Cooper kept his eyes averted, looking out the window at the stars.

McQueen took a deep breath. "Okay, it was about sex," he said, trying for earnest nonchalance. "How do you know?"

Hawkes turned, catching the blue eyes with his. "Because I still remember how you felt inside me."

Neither of them moved. McQueen searched for the right words, but looking at Cooper he discarded all of his responses one by one. "Coop," he began.

Hawkes decided he'd said more than enough. It was time to act. Keeping eye contact with McQueen, he moved swiftly across the room. Before either of them were quite aware of what he was doing, he reached out to McQueen and drew him closer, unresisting, into a kiss and against the bulkhead. As he felt McQueen start to react then freeze, the difference between his dream and reality struck Cooper. His dream lover had controlled. He would never have surrendered that control.

He felt McQueen recover from the assault, and push away. Caught up in his arousal and curiosity, Cooper held on tightly, using his greater mass to pin McQueen to the wall. He felt the struggle beneath him, the lips compressing in an attempt to convince him he was unwelcome. With one last quick brush over McQueen's lips, he moved to rub his cheek against the lightly-stubbled one beneath him.

Mouth freed, McQueen spoke. "Hawkes, *get off me*!" His voice cut through the haze of arousal in Hawkes' mind. But only for a moment.

Cooper shifted slightly, moving to tongue an ear. "It'll be good," he promised with quiet urgency. "Please." He pushed away slightly, looking down into McQueen's eyes.

Eyes of steely gray.

For the first time, Hawkes faltered.

McQueen took advantage of his hesitation and managed to shift Cooper off of him. He glared, rubbing his wrists. "Hawkes, you have the damnedest way of showing you care." McQueen pushed past Hawkes and strode fiercely over to his desk. He stood facing out the port, arms tightly crossed, breathing hard.

McQueen's one look had done what the cold shower had failed to. All desire had fled, replaced by remorse. And fear. Cooper bolted for the door.

"Lieutenant." Hawkes froze on the word.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I didn't..." Cooper wanted to hide.

A sigh. "Hawkes," The voice was low, neutral. He heard McQueen turn.

"I didn't mean to...," Hawkes paused, afraid that if he said more he'd only mess things up more.

"Cooper, what didn't you mean to do?"

"Make you mad."

"Why did you... do what you did?"

"I don't know, I guess it was because I wanted to. I mean, that's the way it always starts." Cooper turned around, avoiding McQueen's' gaze.

"The way what starts?"

"Sex, you know, with guys."

"Sex with men is always...rough?"

"Yeah, it's like when I was on the streets. They weren't always rough, just, I don't know, in control. Like you, in my dream. I mean, when you're with them, it's like you're giving up yourself. To them." Cooper risked a quick glance up at McQueen, who stood there, looking thoughtful.

"Maybe you'd better tell me about this dream of yours. Sit down." He nodded toward his bunk. Hawkes did as he was told, perching on the edge. Silence. "Go on."

Speaking, Cooper didn't once look up at McQueen, just down at his hands, the right twisting the ring on the left. "You...in the dream...you called me here. You were in dress blues when I came in. You took 'em off and put on stuff I'd never seen you wear before, leather. Said you wanted me, that I wanted you." He paused, remembering. "And I sucked you. Then you... turned me around." Hawkes stopped, overcome by acute embarrassment and remembered terror.

After a long moment McQueen's low voice inquired "And then?"

"I tried to get away, but you pinned me. It's like, I was scared, but I wanted it, too. You said you'd stop if I asked, but I wanted to feel you, like, in me." Hawkes paused again, hunching his shoulders. "After you were done I needed to come so bad, but you wouldn't let me touch myself. I thought maybe you would...but you didn't, and then told me I could." He shrugged.

"And did you?" The question was so soft he wasn't sure he'd heard it.

"Yeah." Cooper could still feel the rush of his dream-orgasm.

"Was there anything else?"

"No--I woke up."

"How did you feel about it?"

Cooper shrugged. "I was scared, but the sex was good, real good. Didn't know what you'd think, though. Thought I might come and tell you and get my butt kicked. Thought it might be true. Couldn't *stop* thinking about it."

"So you came here just to try it out?" An edge entered McQueen's voice.

Hawkes shook his head. "No. That's not what I wanted. Just wanted to talk. But...."

"But what?"

"But when you pinned me, and it was like I was back in the dream, I...I wanted to know if it was true," he blurted out.

McQueen stared down consideringly at his copy of the Iliad lying on the desk. His hand moved to adjust the volume. After a moment's silence the tension in his shoulders eased and he turned to face the room, his face impassive.

"Did you want it to be true?" McQueen inquired as he came to stand in front of Cooper.

Hawkes gave a sharp nod, shrugging.

"Look at me."

Cooper met the brilliant aquamarine gaze.

This time it was McQueen who reached out to Hawkes. Cooper felt himself drawn into a cautious kiss. Lips caressed lips in tempered touches that slowly grew firmer, eventually yielding into an open-mouthed exploration. Hawkes felt renewed stirrings of interest. Everything was so different. So different from what he'd dreamed, from what he'd ever experienced. There was no fear now, only fire. Hawkes moved to deepen the kiss. Tongues intertwined then drew apart to investigate until Cooper felt as if each of them knew the other's mouth as well as his own. Finally they broke apart, breath echoing ragged breath.

The heat of passion mounted and clothing grew too hot and restrictive. Cooper grasped the bottom of McQueen's T-shirt and pulled up as McQueen moved to unzip Hawkes' flight suit. Unlike his dream, the clothing didn't simply fall away. There were too many elbows and awkward angles and too much uncooperative cloth. Cooper could have laughed at the delay, if the desire to feel McQueen's skin next to his own had not been so strong. He needed to feel the solid reality that was McQueen. In desperate frustration he yanked off the last offending garment, ignoring the sound of tearing cloth.

It was then that he noticed.

McQueen's body was not the one of the dream. It was still compactly formed, each individual muscle clearly defined. The pale skin was still flushed with desire, but instead of the marble smoothness of the dream, there was a rough tapestry of scars. Most of them were older, pale lines, but there were more recent ones like the ones from Kazbek. Along McQueen's upper chest was a less recent one, still an angry red. An image came into Hawkes' mind of McQueen being carried unconscious on a stretcher, head and chest bandaged, as the rest of the Angry Angels lay dead and dying around him. After staring a moment longer, he reached out to trace one of the thin white lines. Cooper glanced up inquiringly.

"From the mines," McQueen stated as he drew Cooper further into the bed with him.

Cooper found himself against the cool metal of the bulkhead trying to find space for two on a bunk meant for one. As McQueen followed, Cooper reached a long arm around him, pulling him close, skin to skin. He could smell the intoxicating musky scent that was McQueen. Rolling over, he kissed his way down the man beneath him, tasting salt and lust, and faintly, like a long forgotten shadow, fear. McQueen moaned in suppressed desire as Cooper roughly tongued first one nipple then the other. Strong hands kneaded down his back to tug at his hips, pulling him on top, until arousal met arousal in ecstatic contact. As the passion grew, Hawkes lost track of what was him and what was McQueen. Each awaking touch was answered by the other in a spiral of need. Lost in a haze of ardor, the two frantic bodies ground together faster and faster, seeking release, until Cooper felt a shuddering fulfillment shake his frame. Beneath him, Hawkes knew that McQueen neared his own climax, then he felt the warmth flow between them.

Sated, Cooper collapsed across McQueen. After a long moment he gathered enough energy to shift himself to lie beside his lover, leaving one arm draped across him in a drowsy hug.

"You want I should go?"

Strong arms encompassed Hawkes as a sleep wrapped them both in darkness.

"What were you dreaming about?"


"When you screamed."



"The AI's were... torturing you... You died."



"What mines?"

"Go to sleep, Cooper."

There are two gates of Sleep: the one is made of horn, They say, and affords the outlet for genuine apparitions;
The other's a gate of brightly shining ivory: this way The Shades send up to the earth false dreams that impose upon us.

-the Aeneid, Virgil

The End

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