Corsex: the Adventure Continues, part I Rating: R
Annallisa

Summary: The aftermath of the original Corsex, and the set-up for another visit.

Author Note: Please forgive me for the lack of smut, it's coming soon. I'm sorry if the point of view shift around like every two seconds. I'm trying to be in everyone's head. It's not beta'd so constructive feedback is appreciated. I don't think I made the June 30th deadline, but damn it I tried! [insert Maxwell Smart here] Missed it by that much...

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply. Love you, Mr Lucas. kiss kiss. Please don't sue me.



"Wes got laid last night." Hobbie announced between bites to an officers' mess that was nearly filled with diners. People from several nearby tables stopped eating and turned to look in their direction. Next to Hobbie, Wes choked on a mouthful of hot caf and spit it out all over his breakfast. He turned a laser-edged glare on Hobbie and asked, "What?"

Hobbie was unrepentant, as usual. "It's true. just look at him. He never stares off into space with a dreamy look like that unless his brain's been fried by stellar sex. Was she cute? Does she have a friend for me?"

"Oh, grow up, Hobbie. If I had sex, it's none of your business. You must be really jealous. You haven't had sex with anyone but yourself in years!" In a fit of rage, he stood and dumped his ruined breakfast on Hobbie's lap, before turning on his heel and storming away.

"Great. Way to set the example for the other pilots. Was that really necessary?" Wedge asked shaking his head. His gaze still fixed on Wes's retreating back.

"Of course it was, Wedge. He went out last night, without me, and found some hot action. He wouldn't even tell me where he was going! There ought to be a law against that sort of behavior. I'm his best Sithing friend and if he is going to get laid, I think he should at least give me some details!"

Tycho muttered, "like that is going to happen."

"It could," Hobbie pouted.

"Hobbie, leave Wes alone. If he wants to share, he'll share."

Wedge frowned, "I think I'll go see if I can talk him out of whatever revenge he's plotting." Wedge took a final sip of his caf and dropped his empty dishes onto Hobbie's tray. "Since you're wearing Wes's breakfast and need to clean that mess up, I'm sure you won't mind cleaning up mine, too."

Once Wedge was gone, Tycho added his plates to the mountain in front of Hobbie, and said, "You and I need to have a little talk about a concept called `tact'."

* * * * *

Tycho looked up at the knock on his office door. The door opened slightly and Wes stuck his head in. He signaled for Wes to come in, closed a report and set it aside, giving Wes his full attention. He couldn't remember a single time Wes had set foot in his office. "Come in, Major."

Wes stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. His eyes roamed over the beat up military issue desk, the mismatched, uncomfortable chairs and a sad little couch that had seen better decades. He wasn't impressed with what passed for décor Tycho's sparse office, until he noted the shelves along the walls that held various objects and knick-knacks. He resisted the urge to snoop and planted himself before Tycho's desk, clasping his hands behind his back. He looked down at the large, messy pile of work and refused to make eye contact.

Something in his expression made a knot of dread form in the pit of Tycho's stomach. He couldn't know. It wasn't possible. "What can I do for you, Major?"

Wes shifted from one foot to the other. "I. It's about last night."

"Last night?" Tycho repeated. He didn't know what he would do if Wes did know it had been him at Corsex last night. It was too terrible to contemplate.

"I want to apologize." Wes continued. "I shouldn't have done it. I'm not sure why I acted that way with you. I guess I just wanted to do something exciting. And I just KNEW Hobbie would never let me live it down. if he found out I went to Corsex last night... I'd never hear the end of it." Wes winced and finally met Tycho's eyes. "So, anyway, I'm sorry."

Tycho blinked. Wes had never apologized before. "I accept, I guess." The knot of dread was now the size of a bantha and growing. "Will you go back?"

"Back?"

"To Corsex." Tycho prompted.

"Oh. I don't know." Wes shook himself and rubbed his arms as if to ward off a sudden chill. "I haven't decided, yet."

There was another lengthy lapse into silence and somewhere in there Tycho reached the limits of his patience with Wes's odd behavior. "Wes, for force sake, look at me." Wes winced, and still didn't look up.

Taking matters into his own hands, Tycho stood up and came around the desk. If Janson couldn't even look him in the eye, how were they going to continue to fly in the same squadron? He didn't stop until he was close enough that he threatened the bigger man's personal space. He could feel the warmth of Wes's body, he was that close. His body responded the way he had come to expect when Wes was within arms' length, with the first stirrings of an erection.

Wes took a step back, clearly alarmed. "I know things have been. strained. between us since I came back from the Wraiths. I've been trying hard to behave myself and not get in your way. It's awkward, now. It's was never like that before. If you can tell me what I`m doing wrong, I swear that I'll do whatever you want me to. I won't complain or cause trouble. Tell me what you want from me."

* * * * *

Tycho thought about that for a minute, and under his breath he muttered. "You haven't done anything, you don't have to DO anything. You exist and that's enough." He had Wes as a comrade and a junior officer, but what he wanted was the impossible. He wanted Wes as a friend and lover, and if he were Wedge, it might have been possible, but Wes didn't really like Tycho. They tolerated each other for the sake of squad morale, but quite often they rubbed the wrong way, like last night in the locker room.

The easy way Wedge and Wes interacted bordered on intimate, and it irritated Tycho. When Wes rejoined the Rogues, Tycho had thought for months that Wedge and Wes had become lovers during their building and training of Wraith squadron. Wedge had laughed when Tycho finally found the nerve to ask him about it over a bottle of Whyren's a few weeks ago.

"If you want me to resign. I will, sir. I don't want to. I love the Rogues, but ..."

Tycho's lungs felt as if they had turned to ice in the span of a single breath. Wes never called him sir unless he was pissed at him. "If anyone is resigning, it won't be you. I was the one who screwed up. What I did was grounds for a court martial. You were in a vulnerable position and I went in with the intention of helping and instead I took advantage of the situation."

"Court martial? What are you talking about?"

"What do you think I'm talking about?" Tycho huffed, "I'm talking about our having sex last night at Corsex." There was a span of a few heartbeats of stunned silence and all color drained from Wes's face.

"That was YOU?"

"You didn't know?" Tycho clenched his fists and scowled. "What did you think I was talking about? What the hell were you apologizing and resigning for?"

Wes's mouth could barely form the words. "I snapped at you in the locker room when you were teasing me. I was disrespectful in front of the other pilots. I went a little nuts this morning at breakfast. Nothing I do is right around here. I just can't seem to please you. I feel like I'm doing everything humanly possible to make you loathe me." His eyes grew wide as saucers as it really started to register. "I had sex with YOU? No. No, I didn't." He started to hyperventilate.

Tycho congratulated himself on reducing Wes Janson to a babbling idiot in less than sixty seconds. "Just shut the hell up for a minute, will you, Wes?" Stalking back behind his desk, he pulled a full bottle of Whyren's Reserve from the bottom drawer and filled an empty mug with it. He handed the mug to Wes and then upended the open bottle into his mouth.

Four long pulls and several deep breaths later, Tycho was feeling a little less manic. He still wanted to strangle Wes and then shoot himself, but he didn't think he was going to faint now. "Drink the damn whiskey, Wes. Consider it an order. If this gets out, it could be the last order I ever give."

* * * * *

Wes was still trying to process what he'd heard. So that was it. The mystery was solved. Colonel Tycho Celchu, XO of his very own Rogue Squadron. Anger and confusion flooded his emotions. How was that possible? Yes, the height and build fit Tycho, and the Master had said that he knew him. But why? What would make Tycho follow him to Corsex and buy him?

Most of the time, Tycho acted like he couldn't stand to be around Wes. He made it clear he thought Wes was childish and annoying. And Wes had to grudgingly admit that he was both, and at times, he could be more so just because he knew Tycho could be annoyed. It was entertaining and Sith knew they all needed something to make the long days more enjoyable.

He managed to muster enough composure to utter a single syllable, "Why?" It hadn't sounded quite so pathetic when it formed in his brain as it did why it broke the stillness of Tycho's office. "You don't even like me. You've wanted me out of the Rogues ever since I came back. You can't stand to be alone in a room with me for more than sixty seconds since Distna."

Tycho burst out laughing, and there was no humor in it. "I've wanted to jump your bones since Distna, you idiot. I can't be alone in a room with you for more than sixty seconds without getting HARD." Wes's chin dropped to the floor, as Tycho continued, "You don't believe me? Need some proof? Use your eyes."

Wes's disbelieving gaze traveled down Tycho's body to where the bulge was obvious. "Sithspit," Wes groaned, and tossed the rest of the whiskey back in a single gulp, his hands shaking. "But, you hate me."

* * * * *

Tycho felt horrible. Was he really that much of a tyrant? "Damn it, Wes, I don't hate you. I've never hated you! And if you ever say that again, I am going to drag you into the rec room and tongue kiss you in front of the whole squad until nobody has any doubts that I do like you. More than I damn well should."

Wes mumbled at the mental images that evoked. He set the mug down and scrubbed his hands over his face. When he was done, he started to pace back and forth in front of the desk mumbling what sounded suspiciously like "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

The corner of Tycho's mouth twitched. "Not right now. I've got about a month's worth of reports to file this weekend. Maybe I can clear a few hours next week sometime."

Wes looked at Tycho as if he had just announced he was secretly married to a Hutt. Then it seemed to dawn on him. "That was a joke. You just made a joke."

"Yes, Wes, I am capable of humor. most people are." He frowned and took another long pull of whiskey. He moved back behind his desk to put some distance between his raging hard on and the attractive Rogue. He muttered, more to himself than Wes. "You must really think I'm a first rate asshole."

Wes seemed to regain some of his composure. "Well, I don't have much basis for comparison. I'd need more data before I could give an accurate ass-essment." Tycho winced at the double entendre. "You should see the look on your face."

Tycho frowned. "I bought you. I tied you up. I scared the hell out of you. Scream at me. Throw something. Punch me in the face. Be serious, for once in your life."

Wes stalked around the desk and Tycho thought he'd actually do it. Instead, he pushed the smaller man against the wall and asked, "You want me to hit you?" The answer was obvious in the way Tycho's pupil's dilated and his breath came in little pants. Wes raised a hand and Tycho flinched slightly.

Instead of a blow, the hand caught Tycho under the chin and just slightly raised it so Wes could capture Tycho's mouth at the perfect angle. When he finished ravishing Tycho's mouth, he took a small step back. "It really was you."

With a hand on Tycho's chest, he steered the other Rogue backward through the small office until his calves bumped the arm of the old, worn couch and then gave a little shove so Tycho fell onto his back. The couch creaked, but didn't break, as Wes climbed on top of him.

Tycho groaned and wrapped his arms around the bulkier shoulders, holding tight and enjoying the full length of the other man's body covering his. His mouth found Wes's and Wes returned the kiss enthusiastically. Wes's thigh slid between his legs making him gasp. The wet sucking of what was turning into a first rate make-out session were interrupted by someone clearing their throat near the office door.

Both men looked up to see Wedge standing inside the doorway with his arms folded and a disapproving scowl on his face. "I'm going to go back out. Wait exactly two minutes. Knock, again. Then, I'm going to come in. If you're still tangled up on that couch, you'd better be prepared for me to join you." He was specifically looking at Wes when he said it.

Tycho's glanced at Wes and recognized the pinched look as the expression Wes made when he was on the verge of coming. It appeared that Wes was literally getting off on the idea, as Wedge turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him. Tycho lifted his hip slightly, the pressure and slight friction was enough to make Wes explode.

When the spasms wracking his body subsided, Wes growled, "Son of a Sith! You did that on purpose!"

Tycho smirked. He could feel the warm wetness seeping through the cloth of his jumpsuit. They both needed a shower and change of clothes, right now. "Yeah, I did. Was it the sound of his voice? Or was it the suggestion that he join in?" The colonel enjoyed seeing the blush creepy onto Wes's cheeks.

There was a loud knock and Wes dived for the floor in a panic. Tycho sat up and pulled a couch pillow across his lap. Wes scrambled off the floor and slid into the chair behind Tycho's desk just as the door opened. Wedge looked from one to the other and back, suspiciously. Like he suspected he'd missed something significant.

Wes's composure cracked under Wedge's steady gaze and he started to laugh. That was all it took for Tycho to lose it and start to laugh, too. They both laughed until there were tears streaming down their cheeks.

Wedge made a disgusted sound and pointed a finger at Wes. "I want to see you in my office in exactly ..." He glanced at his wrist chrono, "... fifteen minutes. That should give you enough time to shower, change and run to my office." Then he turned to his XO and said, "You get half an hour. The extra fifteen minutes should give you plenty of time to count your blessings that I consider you my best friend and I've decided I'm not going to hit you."

Tycho opened his mouth to respond, but Wedge was already gone. He winced. At Wes's stunned expression, he explained, "I think I Wedge is a little ... jealous."

Wes's jaw dropped open. "Please, please tell you and Wedge aren't ..."

"No. Wedge and I aren't lovers. We're not attracted to each other like that. We're brothers."

"Then why did he want to join us?"

Tycho smirked, "He wanted you."

"NO!"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Oh, I'd say since about Hoth. Just like me."

Wes was struck speechless. He shook his head in disbelief and started to leave. As an afterthought, he scooped up a large pile of reports. "I'm going to hold these as hostages, if you aren't at Corsex at exactly 1930 hours tonight, I'm making a bonfire with them. We have unfinished business and you aren't going to get out of your promise."

To Be Continued...



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