Two nights later, Allard had finished that job and had one good night's sleep. Unfortunately, the job had reproduced before it died, and littered that corridor with equally urgent necessary-things-to-do. So he was deep into the next when he heard Vaughan's footsteps again. Doesn't he ever sleep? he wondered, annoyed.

"So, you ordered 'dynamite sex, no conversation, and turns into a pizza'," Vaughan said thoughtfully.

Allard's nose twitched. There was something distinctly savoury in the air. Had Vaughan managed to ... no, that was silly. It was definitely too late at night for this conversation.

"Will 'arrives bearing pizza' do as well?" Vaughan asked him.

Allard backed clumsily out of his work. Anchovies, olives, plenty of cheese, all the extras. And he had missed dinner because he was busy. "Yes. As for the rest, I suppose two out of three isn't bad," Allard said, thinking about the 'no conversation' and the 'pizza'. He took a slice and bit down. His eyes half-closed. Delicious.

Vaughan leered at him. "Three out of three, if you please." He fumbled in his pocket as Allard took another big bite of pizza, and handed Allard a very large silk hanky. It looked familiar. It looked suspiciously like the one he'd bought because it was large enough to use as a scarf. "I took the liberty of rummaging in your drawer for something suitable."

Allard frantically tried to remember exactly which drawer the hanky lived in, and decided he was probably safe. He chewed, swallowed, and took another mouthful. He'd like to know how Vaughan had programmed the kitchen for decent pizza--he'd been trying for days, and all he'd got was cheese indistinguishable from industrial glue, on a base indistinguishable from cardboard. Perhaps he should have admitted that he didn't know everything there was to know about the ship's systems. He took a huge gulp of coffee. Industrial-strength verging on dangerous, as if Vaughan had brewed a big pot of extra-strength and stirred a caffeine pill into it. He could almost feel it running through his veins and invigorating him.

"This should be big enough, I think," Vaughan continued, gesturing at the hanky. "No matter what you may think about me having a big mouth."

Allard said, "Can I use it whenever I like?" hopefully. He could think of a few speeches that could have been helpfully or even profitably muted.

"Well, if you're that eager, we can skip the pizza and go straight to bed," Vaughan said, with an airy wave of his hand.

Allard spluttered. He ought, by all that was right and proper, to knee Vaughan in the balls and leave the room on a tide of righteous fury at this point, only (he didn't actually want to) ... only it was a damn good pizza, wonderful coffee, and service of this standard ought to be encouraged. And there would be a certain amount of additional therapeutic value in being serviced by Vaughan. Vaughan was tall, well-built, well-hung and had lots of lovely curly hair he could run his fingers through. All of this didn't exactly make him an impossible prospect. The expressive brown eyes weren't bad either, and that rich, deep voice would sound wonderful if only it were whispering sweet nothings instead of politics or commerce. He might even be tempted to forego the gag. Eventually.

"I think I'm going to need the energy, if you want me awake."

"That's a tough choice," said Vaughan, "but I do want you to be able to come out with enough ardent praise for my efforts. So, nice as it would be to do you when you're half-asleep and quiet, I do want you awake."

Allard mumbled something through the pizza, about how dare Vaughan have the bloody nerve to ask for him to be quiet.

Vaughan waved the hanky, and said, "You were the one to specify no conversation, Allard. I'm just going along for the ride." The hanky fell fluttering to the table beside the pizza.

"I hope the ride's worth it," Allard murmured, through more cheese-and-anchovy topping. Actually, he was beginning to get distinctly interested. The cheese-anchovy-and-caffeine mix was beginning to invigorate points south, as well as cheer him up mentally.

"You'll have to decide that," Vaughan breathed intimately, and stroked him delicately between the legs, not precisely on or precisely away from any of the parts of his anatomy that might be presumed to take an interest.

Allard moaned through a mouthful of pizza.

"Good," said Vaughan, patting Allard's crotch lightly. "I can manage to contain myself for long enough for you to refuel; don't know about you."

Allard passed him the gag. "I've been fantasising about this for weeks," he told Vaughan, unable to stop himself smiling as the ambiguity winged neatly home.

"Before I put that on," Vaughan said, "I'd better help you with the pizza so we can get started quicker."

Allard mumbled a polite 'go ahead' noise through his third slice, and watched Vaughan bite happily into his first. He liked a man with an appetite.

Soon, there was nothing left but a round mark on the box.

Vaughan licked the grease off his fingers.

"It's traditional to lick one's own fingers, Vaughan," Allard murmured, for form's sake.

"Oh. Do mine need licking clean, then?" Vaughan murmured, and got up to trail them over Allard's face.

"No," said Allard, licking and sucking happily. "Which is a good thing, as you've still got to put that gag on."

"Can't it wait until we get to the bedroom--and, incidentally, your room or mine?"

"Your room, Vaughan. You can get the grease on your sheets. And, incidentally, I quite like the idea of leading you through the corridors gagged."