Taken on Trust: 3 Rating: NC-17 (m/m slash)
Gillian F. Taylor

"I'm getting hot," Wedge said with a smile, and began unfastening his shirt.

Tycho's eyes followed Wedge's moves as he stripped off his clothing. Usually, Wedge would tell Tycho to remove his clothing first, emphasising his dominance in their role-play. Tonight though, Wedge wanted to apply that control with the lightest of touches. Although Tycho had been wearing the collar and restraints for a few minutes now, they were hidden by his clothes, their presence muted. Now Wedge was naked, vulnerable, while Tycho was still dressed.

They came together again, Tycho's hands roaming over Wedge's skin as they kissed. Wedge ground his hips against Tycho's, making him breathe out suddenly. As Tycho's mouth opened, Wedge thrust his tongue in. Tycho seemed to melt in his arms momentarily, then changed his hold, sliding his hands down to grasp Wedge's arse. Wedge made a satisfied sound, and moved to kiss Tycho's neck. Tycho moaned, pulling Wedge hard against the bulge in his trousers. As Tycho gasped, Wedge chuckled softly. He eased himself away from the other man. Tycho stared anxiously at him, pleading silently with his eyes.

"Your clothes are getting in the way of what I want to do to you," Wedge said.

Tycho hesitated before slowly pulling off his tunic. He dropped it on the floor and looked at Wedge, who smiled. Moving closer, Wedge put his hand on Tycho's bare chest and slid it down, over his stomach and onto the bulge in Tycho's trousers. Wedge rubbed him there, feeling Tycho's cock swelling to full hardness at his touch.

"I want to fuck you, Tycho," he said, low and intense. "I want to fill you, and make you come so hard you see stars."

As Tycho moaned breathily, Wedge unfastened his trousers, then stepped back. Tycho stripped himself rapidly and stood before Wedge, naked but for the crimson collar and cuffs.


Wedge stepped forward, placing his hands on Tycho's sides. Slowly, he slid them lower, first reaching around to caress the taut buttocks, then bringing his hands back until they were resting either side of Tycho's stiff cock. Wedge grinned wickedly at him, moving his thumbs slightly so they brushed through the dark blond pubic hair.

Tycho whimpered a little, then moaned as Wedge cupped his balls and pulled gently on them.

"Put the rest of the harness on but leave the leash," Wedge ordered, his voice soft, but firm.

Tycho swallowed, then strode rapidly to the box. Wedge watched with pleasure as Tycho bent to fasten the ankle straps. He admired the play of smooth muscles as Tycho added the thigh straps then picked up the rest of the kit and returned. Tycho held out the leather straps like an offering. Wedge took them and held them up as though considering their use, and letting Tycho anticipate the moment. He trailed the end of one strap down Tycho's chest and flat stomach, stopping just short of his genitals. Tycho clenched and unclenched fists as Wedge continued to tease him, emitting involuntary moans at the exquisite touches.

Wedge was as hard as Tycho, aware of the heavy thumping of his heart and a delicious, aching tightness in his balls. The need to simply bury himself in Tycho's body and pound him into the mattress was affecting his ability to concentrate on more subtle thoughts. Moisture gleamed on the end of Tycho's penis, and his eyes seemed to be looking into another galaxy. Wedge backed away a pace, taking a deep, calming breath. Tycho's eyes cleared and he looked at Wedge, the brilliant blue eyes burning intensely. Wedge gestured at the bed.

"On your back," he said, his voice husky.

Tycho lay down, watching as Wedge approached more slowly, giving them both time to ease off slightly. Standing beside the bed, Wedge methodically attached short straps from the ankle cuffs to the thigh straps, drawing Tycho's feet back so he lay with his legs apart and knees in the air. More straps attached wrists to ankles, so Tycho's arms were pinned by his sides. He could move a little, but couldn't change position or effectively defend himself from anything Wedge wished to do to him. There was nothing but eagerness in Tycho's face as he submitted to the control.

Wedge climbed onto the end of the bed and paused there, admiring the sight that Tycho made. His friend's lean, firm body was controlled by the straps, arranged ideally for Wedge to satisfy himself at his pleasure. Tycho's eyes were dark with desire for him, his mouth slightly open and his cock standing hard and proud. Wedge was almost dizzy with the intensity of the moment. There was the emotion of sharing intimate pleasure with someone he had a deep bond with, and then the simple, animal urge to fuck a desirable, compliant body.

Eagerly pushing Tycho's legs further apart, Wedge lay on top of him, belly to belly. Rigid penises rubbed against each other, bringing mutual moans of pleasure that ended in a kiss. It was a deep, hard kiss, Wedge pressing Tycho's head back into the pillow. He broke it, rocking back to lower his head to Tycho's chest so he could lick and nibble the hard nubs of his nipples. Tycho moaned louder.

"Yes, Wedge, please ..."

Wedge shifted position, rubbing his cock against Tycho's. Tycho made a frustrated sound and wriggled about, unable to move more than a few inches. Kissing Tycho's chest once more, Wedge moved backwards to kneel between Tycho's legs. Tycho lifted his head, watching with hungry eyes as Wedge lowered his hand. Wedge stroked slowly, slowly, up Tycho's inner thigh, ending with his fingers on the delicate skin between scrotum and arsehole. Tycho bit on his lower lip as Wedge's fingertip carefully circled his rectum. Wedge looked Tycho in the eye, and moved his hand away.

"Ahhh, damn you," Tycho hissed, jerking at the straps that bound him.

Wedge grinned. "Need some lube," he said, picking it up from the foot of the bed.

Applying a little to his finger, he swirled it around Tycho's arsehole and gently pushed the finger inside. Tycho's back arched as Wedge stroked his prostrate. He continued to jerk and twitch as Wedge carefully worked him, opening him up. Wedge's balls were tight and aching, his need fuelled by the sounds Tycho was making, and by the musky smell of sex. It took a real effort of self-control to withdraw his fingers at the right moment. Tycho gave a cry of frustration as his near-orgasm faded.

"Fuck me; just fuck me," he pleaded.

It was what Wedge had been waiting to hear. He hastily smeared some more lube on himself, and moved into the right position. He paused a moment, the tip of his penis pressed against Tycho's hole, then slid inside in a long, steady motion. Tycho moaned deeply, his hips rising to meet Wedge. His durasteel-hard cock was pressed between their bodies as Wedge lay on top of him. Wedge stayed still a moment, to relish the feel of Tycho's torso pressed directly against his own, skin to skin. Then he kissed Tycho deeply, filling his mouth as he filled his arse, and started thrusting.

The need for air finally broke the kiss. Wedge was gasping as he pounded hard into Tycho's body. Tycho was trembling, jerking involuntarily at the bonds that constrained him. With his motion restricted, he could only release the growing sensations within through sound; he was moaning louder and more intensely than Wedge had ever heard from him before, sounds that seemed to be coming from his very soul. The sounds, and the feel of Tycho's taut body twitching beneath him, swept Wedge away. He was at once intimately connected to Tycho, and yet submerged in the overwhelming sensations of his own flesh.

A grunting cry ripped from Tycho as he came, his head lifting and then crashing back against the pillow. Wedge instinctively steadied himself as his own body took over, the thrusts becoming harder yet and deeper. Then he too, came, plunging into stars and darkness as though leaping into hyperspace.

When he opened his eyes again, he was slumped atop Tycho, both of them still breathing heavily. Wedge moaned gently and stretched a little. After a few moments, he lifted a heavy arm and hit the switch that released the electromagnetic locks on the restraints. Tycho sighed, slowly stretching stiff limbs. As he began to relax, Wedge carefully withdrew himself from Tycho's body, and pulled the bedcover over them. They lay together in a sweaty, sticky mess, with arms and legs tangled around one another. Tycho looked at Wedge and blinked suddenly. Wedge saw tears sparkling on his lashes, and gently stroked Tycho's fine hair.

"Go on," he whispered.

Tycho blinked again, then wrapped his arms tightly around Wedge, burying his face in his shoulder as he gave in to his feelings.

Wedge held him, stroking his hair and occasionally whispering soothing noises as Tycho wept. Tears gathered in the corners of his own eyes as he listened to the sounds of his friend's pain, and he blinked them away. Two or three times, the sobbing seemed to stop as Tycho tried to pull himself together. But a quiet word of sympathy from Wedge, or a touch, would open his emotions again. Eventually though, the groans of anguish and the hiccupping sobs faded and Tycho lay quietly, huddled against Wedge like a frightened and tired child. Wedge simply held him, acutely aware of his breathing, and the slight movements he made now and again.

After a few minutes, Tycho took a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh.

"Thirsty?" Wedge asked.

"Mmmm, yes." Tycho's voice was croaky.

Wedge gently disentangled himself from Tycho and the bedcover, and padded into the other room. When he returned a couple of minutes later, Tycho was sitting up in the bed. The collar, straps and restraints were piled neatly on the bedside locker and Tycho had found something to wipe himself with. His eyes were rimmed with red but he looked calm. He took the glass of water from Wedge, who sat on the edge of the bed, and drained half of it in one go, before drinking the rest more slowly.


"Mmm, yes. Thank you," Tycho added. After a few moments he looked up, candid blue eyes searching Wedge's face.

Wedge didn't know what he was looking for. He returned the straight gaze, hoping Tycho would see the sympathy and support he wanted to give. He'd broken through Tycho's mental walls, but there was the risk that his friend might crumble without them.

I broke you down, but I don't know if I can build you back up again. I'll help all I can, but I'm a soldier, not a psychiatrist.

"Thank you," Tycho repeated, touching Wedge's arm.

He looked down at his glass, turning it in his hands, then suddenly yawned. Glancing at the chrono, he said.

"It's not really late, but I'm tired."

Wedge grinned at him. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said impulsively.

Tycho's eyes widened in surprise, then he smiled too. "You pilots are all ego."

"In some cases, it's justified," Wedge said. "And I mean me, not Wes."

Tycho gave him a mock-scowl. "You ruined my punchline." He yawned again. "There's no need for you to get dressed. I'll have security escort me back to my quarters."

Wedge shook his head. "Stay here. I'd like you to."

"I'm under house arrest."

"So? You're with a senior officer who's cleared for watchdog duty. If Salm or anyone objects, assuming they find out in the first place, I'm the one who'll get shouted at," Wedge said. "I can stand that and it would be worth it. I want you to stay tonight."

Tycho nodded. "I'd like that too," he said quietly.

Wedge smiled, and took the empty glass from him. "You go use the refresher while I tidy up a little."


Wedge heaved a mental sigh of relief as he headed back to the other room.

So far, so good!
* * * * *

When Wedge woke the next morning, it felt rather comforting to have someone in the bed beside him. He wondered if Tycho would feel the same way, and rolled over to look at his friend. Tycho was already awake, watching him as he stirred.

"Good morning," Wedge said sleepily. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Tycho said, and smiled. "Good," he repeated firmly.

Wedge's heart lifted and he smiled in return. "I'm glad to hear it."

"I appreciate everything you've done for me, Wedge. I owe you."

Wedge shook his head. "We stopped counting favours years back, remember? You're my wingman; we're supposed to look out for one another."

"A wingman who can't fly," Tycho said, bitterness tinging his voice. He sighed sharply. "Shavvit, Wedge. It's the inactivity that's so hard to bear. When I was on Akrit'tar I was planning my escape; I had something to work towards. I got back to the Rebellion and my life's come to a halt again. Vader's dead, the Emperor's dead, but the Empire is still there and there's plenty of fight left in it still."

He looked straight at Wedge, his blue eyes bright. "I want to be part of that fight. I have skills I can contribute; I can make a difference, Wedge."

"I know," Wedge replied. Before he could continue, Tycho flopped back onto the pillow with a sigh.

"It's not just revenge for what the Empire's done to me," Tycho said quietly. "It's to stop them from hurting other people. You know what it's like to lose your home and your family, Wedge. I ... we both ... want to stop the Empire from putting other people through that."

Even after almost ten years, Wedge still felt that ache in his heart at the mention of his lost childhood. He'd been just seventeen, thrust abruptly from the warmth of his secure life into the adult world by the destruction of parents and home. Tycho had been an adult when Alderaan was destroyed: he'd left behind his home and graduated from the Imperial Academy. However, Wedge could hardly begin to imagine what it would be like to know that your home planet had been reduced to rubble.

"You lost more than I did," he said. "You and the other Alderaanians who were off planet. You can never return to the places you loved, or see your own, beautiful planet hanging there in space as you approach. And families and whole communities, completely and utterly gone. I have some family back on Corellia, even though we hardly ever saw one another. You don't have so much as a second cousin alive."

"That's why I want to go on fighting," Tycho replied. "Even if it's only datawork. I'll fly a desk if I have to."

The phrase jogged Wedge's memory.

"Would you fly a shuttle?" he asked.

"Of course," Tycho answered. "If Salm would ever let me."

"An unarmed shuttle?"

"Not many cargo shuttles have guns."

Wedge shook his head. "I wasn't thinking of a cargo shuttle." He paused, marshalling his thoughts. "You're already living under house arrest — fairly strict conditions. Could you go on with that, maybe even stricter ones, if it got you actively fighting the Empire again?"

"Yes," Tycho answered immediately. He fixed his eyes anxiously on Wedge's face.

"I want you as my XO in Rogue Squadron," Wedge said. "There's a number of logical reasons, but basically I just want you there, and you deserve to be there. I just have to find of way of convincing Admiral Ackbar and General Salm to agree with me. I like Aril, but I'm justified in telling them that her piloting skills are all instinctive: she can't teach her skills, and I need someone to help me train the new squadron to be the very best."

"How can you persuade them to take me instead?" Tycho asked. "I can't see you needing anything less than a thermal detonator to get Salm to agree."

"I was thinking of a proton torpedo myself." Wedge smiled, then continued. "He sees you as a security risk, so we need to think of ways to minimize your potential to do damage. Like flying a Z-95 with powered-down targetting lasers for training, and a shuttle other times."

"If I'm part of an active squadron, then I'll be under even closer supervision," Tycho agreed. "I'll have to stay away from the hangars except when necessary, and then under close watch in case I try to sabotage anything."

"Over-rides on your snubfighter in case you try to ram anyone with it," Wedge added.

"Security will want to check all the datawork I do, and track any correspondance."

Wedge frowned. "It's a lot to ask of you, Tycho. You'll have no privacy and you won't be able to fight and defend yourself when we're flying. If something unexpected happened, you'd be defenceless."

"If I've done my job of training the new pilots, they'll be my defence," Tycho said. There was an intensity, a hope, in his face that Wedge hadn't seen since the ill-fated mission to Coruscant. "I'd rather fly and take that risk than peel tubers or file datawork. I'm under house arrest now, Wedge; I can put up with more restrictions. Shavvit, I'll even let them put a remote-controlled destruct device in my fighter if that's what it takes to make them let me be in Rogue Squadron."

Wedge suppressed a shiver at Tycho's last, firm words. "I don't like that idea," he said. "But if you're willing, then I'll put it to Salm and Ackbar. Though only because I know it will never be necessary."

Tycho closed his eyes for a moment. "You don't know how much all this means to me, Wedge," he said softly.

"I'm just glad I'm in a position where I can do something to help you," Wedge replied sincerely. "I'll do my best for you."

"Of course you will," Tycho said. "You wouldn't be you if you didn't."

He cut off any immediate reply by yawning and stretching leisurely.

Wedge watched him, feeling a sudden relief at knowing his plan to help Tycho unburden himself had worked. His mind turned to thoughts of arranging the details of Tycho's conditions and getting his superior officers to agree.

Tycho interrupted by asking. "Do we need to get up yet?"

Wedge rolled over to look at the chrono on the bedside table. "Not yet; not for another forty minutes."


Bedclothes rustled and Wedge felt the warmth of Tycho's body pressed against his back. Tycho slid his arm around Wedge's waist, enfolding him and holding him close. Warm breath stirred his hair as Tycho whispered in his ear.

"That's long enough for me to fuck you so hard you won't be walking straight for a week."

And Wedge promptly forgot all about Admirals, Generals and security issues for the next forty minutes.

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