Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!in.100proofnews.com!in.100proofnews.com!news.maxwell.syr.edu!postnews.google.com!not-for-mail From: a.q@gmx.de (acidqueen) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW DS9 "n This Life" [R] Sisko/Dax (male) Date: 29 Nov 2004 14:38:47 -0800 Organization: http://groups.google.com Lines: 99 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: 195.143.225.130 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-Trace: posting.google.com 1101767928 16640 127.0.0.1 (29 Nov 2004 22:38:48 GMT) X-Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 29 Nov 2004 22:38:48 +0000 (UTC) Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:161433 X-Received-Date: Mon, 29 Nov 2004 14:38:48 PST (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title: In This Life Author: Acidqueen Series: DS9 Pairing: Sisko/male Dax Rating: R Summary: Jesko dreams. made. Archive: My own website at http://www.syredronning.de , ASCEM, all others ask, please. Acknowledgement: Thanks to czb for looking over it! All remaining errors are mine. * I'm not good at waiting, usually. But sometimes, I can - when all there is left is that precious time of waiting for the necessary, inevitable thing to happen. Then I can lazily lie on a couch, like now, looking out of the dim cabin into the starry, eternal night outside DS9, my head on the arm rest, legs slightly folded with my naked feet hanging on the edge of the seat. I stare outside with a smile - I can feel it pulling on my lips, overly aware of every little muscle in my body. I can imagine my eyes on the glass, although the angle is wrong to see them. They are brilliant and open, sparkling in competition with the stars and calling out for Ben. I envision him against the view, a shadow so dark that the lightest spot would be his almost bald head. The uniform fits him well, and I look forward to slowly uncovering him, layer over layer until I get hold of him and please him like no one has ever pleased him before. I rotate on my back, watching the ceiling for a moment before closing my eyes. Slowly I rub over my erection with one hand; the other one rests on my stomach, flat and spread, feeling for the symbiont beneath. I'll never really be able to press the moment of joining into words; how my sole, lonely and limited existence unfolded and stretched into a line of beings. Crystal- clear I saw them before my eyes, willingly accepting me in their midst. And in their wake, history unfolded, truths flooding me. My personal fears of the future and longings of the past diminished with every second, as I realized that they are small and meaningless compared to the whole. It took a while before I found my own position in this choir. Dax is an old symbiont, and its hosts are strong and willful voices, which whispered to me in weak moments. I'm a part, but I'm also the current master, the conductor. I have to set the direction and the pacing, although, of course, Dax's security is one of the foremost goals. Its survival means eternal life for all of us; its death means eightfold death. But I'm Jesko, I'm here and now, and the symbiont rests in my chest and gives me strength, peace and the patience to lie here and wait, because I know in the depth of my heart that Ben will come to me. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow. But I watch his face, I meet his gaze, and his eyes can't help to speak about his love and need. And it's a burning need, because it's so old and unrequited. Curzon's memories weave through me, and a faint taste of regret is in my mouth. I'll calm your soul, Curzon. I'll taste what you denied yourself for so many reasons. My hand on my groin rubs harder. I want to burn for you, Ben, burn as bright as you do in your own, big cabin on your large bed now. You are meant to be with me. Fate is a circle that comes back to our incomplete missions, and you are mine. I won't climax tonight; I won't climax at all before you're here with me, soon, soon... I stop, wondering - I don't know what comes over me from time to time, when none of my predecessors was an artist. Usually, I'm more prosaic. But on a night like this, who wouldn't want to be a poet? I let my hand sink, and it slips from the couch as if it were no part of me. I smile again as I realize that another sweetly painful night of waiting is drawing to a close, and sleep is calling. Shaking myself out of my dreamy state, I stand up to order a final Raktajino from the replicator. It's hot and feeds my arousal as it pours down my throat. When I put the cup away, the door bell is chiming. For a second, I just inhale and stretch my body. I will open the door, and it will be him. It has to be. *** NewMessage: