There was something about the sight of a very pretty woman fondling huge weapons that got Allard excited. Judging by Vaughan's expression, Allard wasn't the only one. No matter how often Karen touched and patted and stroked suggestively along those rounded barrels, it still affected him. It's just weapons technology, he told himself, as usual. So? retorted his cock.

He managed to keep a grip on his reactions (or not keep a grip on them) for just long enough to perform the necessary computer checks Karen had asked him to carry out on the cargo before it was delivered.

Then he stood there and fidgeted, but she was so involved in trying to give the equipment a hand-job, she didn't seem to notice.

Ten unendurable minutes passed, during which Vaughan finished the last engineering checks. "Can we go now, Karen?" asked Vaughan.

Karen flapped her hand, dismissing them without even looking at them. "I can finish the rest of the pre-delivery checks."

Vaughan's bedroom was nearest.

"It's a bit lowering," said Allard, "to think that I don't register on her scale of 'important things' because mine isn't two feet long." He groaned. "Even if it feels like it, at the moment."

"I think it's a good size," said Vaughan, assessing the dimensions.

Allard moaned. "Give me a wank. I need something now after watching that!"

He moaned again, this time with relief, as Vaughan started to stroke him through the trousers. He loved that, and Vaughan seemed to have some idea that he liked to be touched through cloth.

Vaughan stopped.

"Bastard!" said Allard, without opening his eyes.

"In the interests of getting a proper grip on it," explained Vaughan, undoing him efficiently and showing him what he meant by a proper grip. Allard moaned, and collapsed against Vaughan's shoulder.

Vaughan put one arm 'round him to hold him up while the other hand went to work on his cock. A lovely firm grip. Good, firm strokes along the whole length. Just what Karen had been doing to her beloved guns. He spared just a moment to wish his cock was two feet long, just so that he could enjoy being stroked for ... longer. If it was longer.

His brain wasn't coming up with the usual good-quality thoughts; he must be busy with something else. He was.

"Messy little bugger," Vaughan said affectionately.

Allard managed one last spurt, just to convince Vaughan that he never paid any attention to Vaughan's comments.

He sagged happily in Vaughan's arms. "Give me a minute, and I'll do you."

He was still dozing when Vaughan dragged him to the bed and let him fall.

"Mm?" he said, rather woozily.

"Didn't want to let you collapse on the floor, and you're a hell of a weight if I have to prop you up for more than two minutes."

"I feel much better now!" said Allard, and stretched. "All right, what would you like? Within reason," he clarified.

"Well, you could just sprawl there while I stick my cock into the melted heap of what's left," said Vaughan.

Allard moaned agreeably and rolled over.

"On the other hand, if you're feeling energetic enough, you could actually pay some attention to my cock. I may not be as fond of women as you are, but I still quite enjoyed the show." He paused. "Not Karen as much as the show going on in your trousers."

"You mean you were looking at my trousers instead of what Karen was doing?"

"At least half the time. Yes, she's pretty, but I love it when I can watch you squirming where you stand, gritting your teeth and obviously thinking 'I must not have sex now! I must wait! I can't stand it!'"

Allard sighed. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the fact that his body language was that readable.

"If I wasn't having an affair with you, or if I didn't know you this well, I don't think I'd have noticed," Vaughan said. "I don't think Karen realised."

Allard sighed harder.

"Now what's the matter?" demanded Vaughan.

"It's embarrassing making a show of myself. It's more embarrassing when you behave as if you can read my mind."

"It's easier to read your mind when you're thinking with your cockhead rather than your real head," said Vaughan, gently touching both organs.

Allard relaxed a bit, and reached out for Vaughan. "You mentioned a hand-job."

"I wasn't that specific," said Vaughan. "I said 'paying attention to my cock', but I think your mouth would be rather nice, as well. You decide."

Allard slid down off the bed to kneel (in a rather relaxed way) at Vaughan's feet.

"I'll suck you, if you can be quick about it." He undid Vaughan's trousers and got his cock out. "Mm?" he asked, around the head.

"Quick isn't going to be a problem," said Vaughan.

Allard gave it a good, hard suck. He liked doing this after he'd come; it was still a pleasure, and it was more relaxing not to have to worry about being over-excited. Every tight, hard suck he gave Vaughan seemed to make Vaughan's cock bigger, tighter, harder; a few seconds of that, and Vaughan came hard.

Then Vaughan collapsed, partly on him and partly on the floor.

"Bed," Allard said, which was about all he had the breath to say.

Vaughan took the hint, although Allard took most of the blankets.

"I know you feel the cold, Allard," said Vaughan, "but we are dressed at this point."

"Ah," said Allard. "Force of habit."

"Yes," said Vaughan, "I've noticed."

Allard pulled the blankets off and kicked him.

"Uncivilised little sod," said Vaughan mildly.

"I thought that's what you liked about me, when you weren't on your 'virgin' kick."

"It's the contrast," Vaughan said, in an appreciative voice.

Allard, not minding that, wiped himself more-or-less clean with one corner of the sheet.

"Oy! I'm going to sleep in that tonight!" said Vaughan.

"Tell yourself it's a charming reminder of the experience." He tidied Vaughan up, as well, tucking him neatly back into his trousers.

There was a sudden click as the intercom turned on. It was followed by Mark's voice, saying, "They don't seem to be on the flight-deck at the moment. I'm putting you through to their cabin. Don't worry about any noises--it just tends to mean they're having sex again. Don't interrupt them; he gets a bit annoyed if you do that. I'm sure they'll want to talk to you afterwards, though," he added brightly, as if to console the possible client. "Dad!" he carolled. "Are you decent? Someone wants to talk to Vaughan."

Vaughan looked at Allard. "I am starting to think we may possibly have made a mistake in making that computer our receptionist."

Allard was starting to understand why he'd found Mark in a junk heap. "Do you want to grovel to the customer, or shall I?"

"You're not very good at grovelling to the customers, just to me."

Allard opened his mouth.

"I'd better get it," continued Vaughan hurriedly, hitting the intercom.

"Vaughan here. How may I help?"

There was silence for a few seconds, followed by: "Er..."

"Please let me apologise for our receptionist. He's an artificial intelligence, and he doesn't quite seem to have got the hang of human communications yet."

"Er ... artificial intelligence? But I thought it was ... somebody's son..." The tone of voice suggested that the person did not entirely approve of somebody's young son knowing about his father's sex life.

"Only in a manner of speaking," commented Allard dryly. "I was the originator of some of the more important algorithms, and therefore count as his father in some sense. He seems to find it amusing to call me Dad."

"If it is a computer," said the voice doubtfully, "it doesn't seem to be interested in the usual things a computer is interested in."

"I am!" said Mark. "I'm interested in ever so many things, and the human social stuff is fascinating."

"It is not a computer," said Allard. "It is an artificial intelligence, and we are learning the difference between the two concepts. Unfortunately," he added.

"Well..." the voice said, trailing off.

Vaughan said, "Why not meet us to discuss whatever it is you wanted to contact us about? One meeting with Mark is usually more than enough to convince people that he is what people say he is."

"A nosy, arrogant little prick," muttered Allard under his breath, quietly enough that it wouldn't carry through the intercom.

Vaughan heard, though. Equally quietly, he said, "Pot. Kettle."

Allard was tempted to try physical retaliation, but had more sense than to try it when engaged in contract negotiation. Especially considering the image this particular potential client must already have of them.

"You are in the Poseidon system at the moment, aren't you?"

"Yes, we're quite reachable," said Vaughan, and began talking co-ordinates.