Team Ryan: If You Love Something, Let it Go [4/6]
Cradle of Civilization





It was still night – the nights were as disturbingly long as the days, after all – and Ryan, after catching another hour or two of sleep, had woken up incredibly cold only to look over and see that the fire had nearly gone out, burnt down to embers, and that it would actually be weird if it were emitting any kind of real warmth like that. With a small groan, he got up, still wrapped in the blanket, and walked back to the fireplace, wrinkling his nose at the dry cakes of excrements that were obviously supposed to burn since they didn't have any wood. Biting his lip, he pulled his hand back into his sleeve and picked it up with his very fingertips, the fabric of his jacket a comforting layer of separation. He quickly dropped the first one into the fire, following quickly with a second and third and fourth before he picked up the rod lying next to the fire and stoked it a bit, hoping to get it going more quickly. A lot of the boys were awake by now, and a few of them had started snickering. Ryan looked up, confused, before he caught the eyes of the only one of them he really recognized. "Why are you laughing?" he asked Skaara, still taking care to form the words as close to right as he could.

It was the boy next to Skaara, though, who answered with another snicker. "Husbands don't do this work," he stated and the group of boys broke down in fits of laughter again.

"Husband," he muttered in English, even more confused than before. His brow wrinkled and he bit his lip as he tried to figure it out when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Baraka looking over for a moment before blushing and scurrying off under a broken curtain into one of the smaller, adjoining caves where he bent down over a graining stone that had apparently been abandoned there. Baraka took a handful of grains from the bag the boys had stolen from the town before leaving, and started to grind it forcefully. And suddenly Ryan thought he might have understood, and apprehensively he got up and followed until he could kneel down next to the boy. "Husband?" he asked again, this time in the local tongue.

Baraka determinedly did not look at him and was instead gripping the stone so forcefully that his knuckles widened and the bones seemed to stand out much too far. Ryan murmured his name, and the boy finally met his glance hesitantly. "Please do not be angry," Baraka murmured, a desperate note to his voice as he glanced back into the main cave to make sure they weren't overheard. "I just could not tell them." There was shame in his eyes again and he quickly averted his gaze.

"Tell them what?" Ryan asked, thoroughly confused and wishing he could do something, anything, to make the boy feel a little better.

"That you did not want me," Baraka whispered, his voice so soft it was barely there and his eyes focused determinedly on the floor.

Ryan gulped, everything suddenly a lot clearer. It wasn't just some traditional offering of the leader's children in a stranger's bed to make them feel welcome that he'd rejected. Unknowingly, he had practically walked away from the altar. Unseen, maybe, but he didn't think that would make something like that hurt less. Finally he reached out and gripped the boy's chin gently, tilting his head up until their eyes finally met. "Maybe I do," he whispered back before leaning in and pressing his lips against Baraka's, fighting back a nearly instant moan at the feeling of those full, soft lips beneath his own. His eyes dropped closed almost immediately, and he moved his lips slowly, gently against the younger male's. Baraka's lips were pliant and hesitant and mostly unmoving, which he put down to the boy's probable lack of experience.

He tried to keep it slow and soft, he really did, but those lips were intoxicating and some part of him was screaming for more so loudly that it almost hurt. His free hand slipped to the back of Baraka's neck while his tongue darted out, gently prying the boy's lips apart and pushing the slick muscle into his mouth, thirstily drinking in the taste and feel as he mapped out the crevices and dips and details, again having to hold back a groan as he breathed hard through his nose. Finally, though, he realized that the boy was practically shaking under his hands and he pulled back hesitantly, concern immediately taking the place of pleasure in his mind. "I am sorry," he whispered, letting go of Baraka immediately. "I should not have done that. You probably did not even want it, and you are so young and... sorry. I did not mean to push you into something."

"I am not that young," Baraka protested. "Good, marriable age," he added, although there was still a large hint of nerves in his voice. "You are not pushing me," he added. He gulped slightly and sucked in a deep, clearly audible breath. "I... I want this," he finally concluded. "I wish to be a hemi, not a reject. And marriage is not official if it isn't..." He gulped again, looking determinedly at his bare feet. "Consummated," he finally whispered.

Ryan let out a slight breath, torn between relieved and eager and hesitant all of a sudden. Then he looked over the boy, serious and assessing. "Are you sure?" he finally asked.

Baraka gave a quick nod that seemed to almost be stuttering through the movements. He swallowed several times, and the anxiety was stark in his eyes before he caught Ryan by surprise, bringing their lips back together even though he still seemed to be trembling and scared and unsure. But Ryan couldn't muster any defense against those lips and any protests or pressing concern he might've had about the boy's reasons or fears vanished before he could make a proper effort to do anything about either. He raised his hands again, one settling on Baraka's waist and the other on the back of his neck, thumb stroking the soft skin and tiny hairs.

Caressing Baraka's full, pillowy lips with own, Ryan closed his eyes and relaxed into the kiss, licking gently at the seam of the younger male's lips. His hands seemed to have decided to move on their own accord as they went to push Baraka's cloak off, revealing loose robes and bare arms, which was where his hands journeyed next, stroking up and down the long, lean limbs, his pulse rising at the feeling of silky skin and tiny, soft hairs under his fingers. When Ryan's thumb brushed over the pulse point on the boy's wrist, Baraka gasped slightly and Ryan's tongue immediately took the opportunity to dip inside once more. His long fingers grasped Baraka's smaller hands and gave a small squeeze before he gently guided them to his own chest and the buttons and zipper of his jacket.

The boy's fingers shook and fumbled and hesitated, and Ryan was just about to call it off, tell Baraka that he wasn't about to have sex with someone who was not only far from ready for it, but also seemed to regard it as something frightening. But then the snap of one of the metallic buttons coming undone resounded through the small room, and Baraka pulled back from the kiss, slowly, as though giving Ryan opportunity to prevent him from it. Ryan wasn't about to, though. Every last tiny bit of initiative from the younger male was thoroughly welcome.

And then, once the kiss was broken, Ryan was met with the sight of flushed cheeks and wide, beautiful, if uncertain, eyes that looked at him in the search of... what? Approval, maybe. Baraka's full lips were swollen fuller already and he was panting, apparently not yet having found the technique to breathe and kiss at the same time. And his fingers were tugging on the next button, a sort of determined set to his face. "Is this okay?" he asked breathlessly, voice soft and insecure.

"It is fine," Ryan answered, smiling in what he hoped was a soothing, calming way. He reached out to tug a lock of hair behind Baraka's ear, letting his finger linger on the smooth, hairless cheek for a moment, and felt bad about the whole situation again. Was the boy even old enough to shave?

"How do I...?" Baraka asked, worrying his bottom lip adorably with his teeth. Ryan looked down to realize that he'd reached the zipper and had probably never seen one of those before in his life. Holding back a laugh that would've been entirely inappropriate given the situation, his misgivings already flown out the window, he reached the zip himself and pulled it down before shrugging the jacket off his shoulders, revealing the standard military black wife-beater underneath. This item the boy seemed easily capable of figuring out, and he grasped the hem with trembling fingers before slowly pulling it up over Ryan's head, letting it drop to the floor in a pile with the cloak and the jacket.

Ryan sent him a small smile before crouching down and starting to loosen the ties on his boots, ignoring the horrified look on Baraka's face, which probably had something to do with Ryan kneeling and doing what the boy might perceive as his work. A moment later he was done and kicked off the boots, followed by a toeing off of his socks. As he stood, he carefully grasped the lightly frayed hem of Baraka's robe and slowly raised it, looking straight into the boy's eyes as he went, giving him the choice to object or not. He didn't, and moments later the robe was landing on top of the growing pile, and Baraka was blushing and naked in front of him. Ryan felt his breath hitch and stutter at the sight. He'd seen Baraka without so much as a shred to cover him before, obviously, but the situation, the fact that Ryan wasn't just supposed to ignore it and look the other way, made it completely different. He reached out, settling both hands lightly on Baraka's shoulders and giving a small squeeze before slowly trailing them down the boy's front, reveling in the soft, warm skin under his fingers and absentmindedly listening to the younger male's soft gasps as he went. Once his fingers reached the rounded hips, he pulled Baraka closer, their chests flush against one another, and connected their lips again, feeling almost drunk on the feeling of their bare skin rubbing together.

Hesitant, trembling hands rose up to clutch Ryan's shoulders while Baraka's lips were moving more than they had earlier, seemingly imitating some of the movements Ryan had made earlier, and Ryan suppressed a smile as he opened his mouth slightly and sucked the slowly questing tongue inside, rubbing his own over it a few times before settling on gentle sucks. Baraka broke the kiss again, flushed and panting and wide-eyed as he stared at Ryan, startlement in his eyes. Again Ryan had to hold back a laugh. Obviously the boy had never before realized that the tongue was pretty much one of the top erogenous spots on the body. The scientist lowered his face slightly and latched his mouth onto the soft skin on Baraka's neck, placing slow kisses for a moment before he sucked some into his mouth, nibbling slightly, definitely not hard enough for it to hurt, and let go of those round hips to reach down and unbuckle his own belt instead before popping the button through its hole and pulling the zipper down. His hips were narrow enough that he needn't do anything else for the pants to slip down his legs and pool around his ankles. He kicked them off and abandoned Baraka's graceful, tasty neck to look straight into the boy's eyes again.

"Do you have oil of some kind here?" Ryan asked. He doubted they had any kind of fancy lubes, but he wasn't about to go on only spit either. Everything about the boy practically screamed virgin and he wasn't about to make someone's first time be a nightmare they'd remember the rest of their lives for purely negative reasons.

Baraka nodded his affirmative and pulled slowly away from Ryan, taking a few steps away, crouching down and almost making Ryan pass out at the sight of his perfectly rounded, pale, pert-looking ass. The younger male grasped a clay container of something and popped off the cork before returning and handing it to Ryan who took it and peered inside. It looked like olive oil or something to that effect. Smelled that way too, and Ryan determined that if he were careful chances were that it would probably work. He took a few steps back until he was by their pile of clothes and pulled Baraka's cloak up before spreading it over the ground in the hopes of making it less hard and inhospitable.

"Lie down," the scientist instructed gently, taking the younger male's hand and carefully guiding him over to the cloak. Baraka's eyes were wide and afraid, his hands trembling visibly again as he slowly sank to his knees and plopped down on his bum, hesitating for a moment before lowering himself the rest of the way to his elbows, his whole stance and expression rigid and frightened, like a deer looking for the easiest way to escape the hunter. Ryan sighed and turned his face away. "You are not ready for this," he stated, hearing the regret in his own voice.

The horror grew even starker in Baraka's expression. "I am," he insisted, an almost pleading tone to his voice. "I am ready, I am even a little old because Father allowed me to stay unwed longer than most. I just- do not know what to do."

"Do whatever feels right," Ryan found himself muttering. And no matter how much he'd regret it if it happened, 'right' included turning tail and running away. He didn't want to push someone into sex who was clearly frightened of it. "I will do the work," he added, dropping down onto his own knees by the boy's feet, moving slowly enough that Baraka had time to get used to every new movement before it even touched him. Using as light touches as he could, he pried Baraka's surprisingly strong-looking legs apart and moved up between them. "Pull your knees up," he instructed in a soft voice, reaching out for the oil and giving the boy a moment's modesty at least, although in a moment he'd see anyway.

And what a sight it was. Spread out, with his knees held against his chest and a shy look on his face, Baraka without a doubt painted one of the most stunning pictures Ryan had ever seen. The older of the two leaned forward a bit and placed a soft peck against the younger's taut stomach. Did the kid even have any idea how beautiful he looked? Somehow, Ryan doubted it. Taking a deep breath, he offered the boy a reassuring smile and poured a glob of thick oil into his hand, making sure to get his fingers as coated as any way possible. Then he reached forward and, using his free hand to hold the full buttocks apart, he moved his index finger through the already lightly quivering entrance. "Relax," he murmured in the most soothing voice he could find.

Baraka sucked in a deep breath, closed his eyes and nodded, and Ryan took a brief moment to gather his wits about him before he gently pushed the digit inside, wriggling in the tight hold until he couldn't get it any further. The younger male's muscles seemed to be practically quivering around his finger and Ryan's breath caught in his throat when his mind supplied him with all kinds of imaginary sensations of what it would feel to have his cock gripped by those same muscles. He pulled the finger out again before thrusting slowly back inside, wincing slightly when Baraka couldn't hold back a small whimper.

"You are doing just fine," Ryan reassured softly, leaning down to kiss the younger boy's stomach again, his free hand moving to stroke up and down the soft thigh in an effort to calm the muscles that were straining visibly beneath creamy skin. He spent maybe another minute with just one finger until Baraka seemed less uncomfortable and quite a bit more relaxed before he slowly worked in a second one, scissoring gently while he, almost subconsciously, searched out a small, rougher nub inside the younger boy's body. When he finally found it he made sure to stroke it and press against it or even, at one adventurous take, pinching it lightly as best as he could what with the tight hold around his two fingers.

Baraka finally seemed to be getting into it. His eyes were closed, thick, long, black lashes fanned out against his cheeks, which were flushed once more. His plump, red lips were parted to let out uneven, panting breaths, and small, almost mewling sounds, seemed to be escaping his mouth. His neck was straining, fingers clenched in the cloak beneath him, and if he'd had the leverage Ryan didn't have much doubt he'd been arching off the floor with the scientist's movements. And, Ryan noted with a spark of accomplishment, his cock – slightly shorter than Ryan's own, but with a proud upwards curve, and the foreskin that hadn't been an everyday sight in America for a long, long time – was finally hardening, the purple head peeking out from under the fold of skin and the vein along the underside thrumming visibly, almost in sync with Ryan's own heartbeat.

Giving the younger male's prostate another daring pinch that brought a jolt through the lying body, Ryan moved his left hand away from Baraka's thigh to settle instead on his cock, fisting it and making the first moves towards pumping, but the son of the tribe leader jumped up, eyes wide and more fearful than Ryan had seen them yet. Ryan's fingers were pulled almost roughly out of the tight body and he was scared for a moment that he'd somehow hurt the boy who had pulled his knees up to his chest, several feet away from Ryan now. "What is wrong?" he asked, confusedly, even as he fought not to let his building frustration show in his voice.

"Please," Baraka whimpered. "Please do not do it."

Ryan sighed, averting his gaze. "I already told you I would not go further if you changed your mind," he stated, badly veiled disappointment in his voice.

"No," the boy whispered. "Not that, just... please do not cut me. Please. I know it is wrong for me to- to react like this, and- and to feel pleasure in ways which only real men are allowed. I am sorry, just please..." His eyes were wide open and scared and begging and Ryan had absolutely no idea what was going on, nor how to make it better. "I promise it will never happen again, and I promise that from now on I will focus more on your pleasure instead of forgetting myself as I have tonight. Please forgive me."

"Baraka," Ryan murmured gently. "What are you talking about?"

"I swear I did not mean for it to do that," the boy let out, back to whimpering. "My thing," he added in explanation, voice rising to nearly a scream. "I will learn to control it better and not use it for anything untoward ever again!" A few tears were making their way down his cheeks now, the fear and regret still stark on his features. "I will never act out of my place in any way again, if only you do not cut it. Even though I know you are well within your rights to. Please give me another chance. I will control it much better, if you will only let me!"

And suddenly Ryan realized what Baraka was on about. That beautiful cock he'd probably just spent at least a minute admiring, and Baraka thought he would, what? Cut it off?! Horrified at even the thought of it, he grasped the younger male's hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the lightly calloused palm. "Listen," Ryan whispered. "And promise not to doubt what I have to say?" He got a worried nod in return and took a deep breath. "Baraka, I do not care much for women as more than friends or people I work with. I have always preferred men in bed. I do not even know if that is taboo or not in this society, but it is the truth and as your... husband, I can tell you the truth, right?" He got yet another nod and a slight relaxation of the boy's facial muscles. "So," he concluded. "When I like men, not women, in bed, why would I be stupid enough to try to make you into a woman?" He gave a small smile. "Especially when you are this beautiful. The whole of you."

Baraka blushed a deep red, lashes lowering once again to half-hide the deep chocolate of his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, and Ryan had no way of knowing whether he was replying to the compliment or expressing gratefulness for the fact that Ryan found dick-cutting to be absurd, horrific and plain stupid.

"Do not worry about it," Ryan ordered gently. "What we are about to do, if you still want to... I will not enjoy it half as much if I do not believe you are enjoying it too. So just lay back and relax and do not worry about displeasing me. Do what feels right to you."

The boy looked almost as though he had no idea what those words meant, but finally he nodded, a small smile even flitting over his face, and Ryan felt his own stomach flutter at the sight. "I am sorry if my fears insulted you," Baraka whispered. Ryan just smiled and leaned in, burying his ungreasy hand in the younger male's hair before he gently pressed their lips together. Best not tell the boy that the fear actually had insulted him more than just a bit. Did he look like someone who would cut other guys' dicks off?

Ryan helped Baraka lower himself back to the floor and this time got to finish stretching him before he oiled his own cock up and got into position over the younger of the two. Their eyes connected, and Ryan had to swallow something that seemed stuck in his throat at just the sight of the boy beneath him. Lean, yet attractively curvy, dark-eyed, dark-haired, but somehow surprisingly pale, probably the most beautiful face and body Ryan had ever come across. "Are you sure?" Ryan whispered. He got a nod in return but still, somehow, didn't feel confirmed enough. "Completely certain?" he asked on. "You need to tell me now, because if we go any further I am not sure I will be able to stop." Not that he was sure he'd be able to stop right now, but then he hoped nearly desperately that he wouldn't have to. Baraka gave another nod, and Ryan carefully maneuvered one of the boy's legs over his shoulder, the other around his waist. "Take a deep breath and try to relax," he instructed as he grabbed hold of his own slippery cock and slowly led it towards the widened hole.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Ryan guided the head of his engorged dick into Baraka's body, unable to resist the temptation to look down between them and watch as the first few inches of his cock disappeared into his partner's body. He gasped immediately at the feeling of hot, oiled flesh clamping down on him as though to squeeze out all life. The tightness of it, despite the careful loosening, was so overwhelming that it nearly hurt, and he had to take deep, quick breaths to keep from practically passing out. And despite the near-pain of it, it took a forceful mustering of all his will to keep from plunging the rest of the way inside. When he finally felt like he had himself somewhat under control he looked up, spending a few long seconds observing Baraka's face with the clamped-shut eyes and the white teeth that seemed to be biting his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. "Are you all right?" the scientist asked, his voice coming out as something between a gasp and a sigh.

Baraka didn't answer, but a moment later a single, small tear made its way out of his right eye, soaking the lashes before it ran down the side of his face and disappeared into his hair. Ryan couldn't say if it was for the physical pain or something else entirely, but he reached out the hand that wasn't holding him up and brushed his thumb over the wet trail, obliterating it.

It might have been a minute or even as much as an hour, Ryan couldn't tell, when Baraka's muscles had finally relaxed enough that the older of the two felt it safe to continue. At that point he had to use both arms to hold himself up, his whole body trembling and his breath coming in sharp gasps at the strain of keeping still. But finally, finally, he sank the rest of the way into that tight, velvety heat, and for a moment he was convinced he was going to come then and there from the penetration alone, as though he were still some pimple-faced teenager who had no idea how to control his own ejaculations. When he'd gotten the threat of coming so soon fought away, he started moving in earnest. He had to practically beat down the impulse to go hard and fast, but managed to restrain himself enough that it was a slow, heavy slide instead, and not as deep as he would've liked either. But he'd definitely prefer not to hurt Baraka because he couldn't hold back.

Instead of going quicker, he reached one hand down between their bodies and grasped hold of Baraka's cock, which had been shrinking to regular size, but immediately livened up again under his touch. He jerked slowly and as carefully as he could in the situation, making sure to pull the foreskin back and pay attention to the soon leaking head. And once that was under control, he changed his angle slightly, testingly, until the boy cried out beneath him with every thrust, his eyes shooting open only to roll back and his arms jerking spasmodically before his hands, surprisingly strong, found leverage and grasped hold of Ryan's shoulders, nails digging into his skin in ways the scientist knew his partner would apologize profusely and whole-heartedly for when he was in his right mind again. Ryan didn't really mind. The sharp sensation in his shoulders only set off the pleasure in his nether regions even more.

Ascertained that Baraka was finally into it, Ryan dipped his head down and brought their lips together, tongues touching freely and practically dancing around, however uncoordinatedly, in their mouths. It had to be one of the most fiery kisses Ryan had ever experienced, and he didn't for a moment regret sharing it with who he was.

Ryan jerked Baraka through the whole thing and never stopped paying attention to his partner's dick either, and by the time Ryan finally fell over the edge, Baraka had already come twice, cock half-hard again although it was seemingly a bit wary about the thought of getting up again. The older male collapsed on top of his younger partner, panting and gasping for air, red-faced and wild-haired, and he was sure he'd never before come that hard. Baraka's hands were stroking his back softly, soothing the nail marks the boy most likely had yet to realize he'd left. His cock slipped out of the shorter boy's warm, sweaty body when Ryan tumbled to his side, and he gave a regretful grimace at the small whimper of discomfort that left his partner's lips. "Are you all right?" he asked, wrapping his arms around Baraka's small waist and spooning up against his back.

"Yes," came the softly spoken answer a few moments later, after what seemed like some hesitation. "It was not at all how I thought it would be," Baraka added, a slightly breathless quality to his melodic voice.

"Thought it would be awful?" Ryan asked, absentmindedly stroking the younger male's flank with long, thin fingers.

The pause was much longer this time and even without seeing Baraka's face, Ryan knew the boy was blushing. "Yes," he finally whispered. "I never knew it could feel... good." There was silence for a few moments before he turned in Ryan's arms until they were face to face. "Tell me my name," he whispered.

"Baraka," Ryan said, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. Baraka did not at all seem like the kind of person who'd ask to have his name shouted during sex. Besides, it wasn't even during anymore, it was after, and Ryan would've been more than content with some post-coital snuggling, maybe even a few hours' sleep.

"No," Baraka whispered. "Not my old name. My new one. You need to give me one, or everyone will think you have not accepted me, and I..." He swallowed, looking nervous all of a sudden. "I will be a laughing stock to my people."

Ryan suddenly remembered that the Earth culture this came the closest to was the Ancient Egyptian one. And he remembered that it was common for Egyptians to change their names according to a new phase or station in life. To them names weren't so much something your parents had thought sounded nice, which then came to follow you your whole life and somehow, coincidentally almost, came to fit with your identity. The name was supposed to be descriptive, and explain in one word who they were. Which obviously meant many had to change them at least once during their lifetime. "Which name do you want?" Ryan asked, swallowing. He was a little insecure again now. In this culture names meant so much. He couldn't believe he was supposed to pick one for someone else.

"It is not my place to pick," the boy stated before averting his glance slightly. "But please not I-Ger-Baket," he added, blushing slightly. "Then I would almost prefer the dishonor of remaining Baraka."

I-Ger-Beket. Ryan recognized the words. 'My-Quiet-Servant'. And femininum just to make things worse. He couldn't believe anyone would use that as a name for a male partner, especially when in this culture you were supposed to be who your name dictated. Baraka meant gift or blessing, which, personally, Ryan thought was a lot more fitting. "I would never call you that," Ryan stated, trying to keep the horrified note out of his voice. The words had the double meaning everything about Egyptian names did. 'I will never ask you to be that'. "What kind of a name am I supposed to pick?"

Baraka, which was still his name right at that moment, looked away, blushing, shame seeming to seep into his features. "A woman's name," he answered in a small, meek voice. Not that I mind," he added, although it was clear he did. "I know, after all, that my station in life from now on will be much like that of a woman."

Ryan needn't even ask if the boy wanted a woman's name. He clearly didn't, but was just as clearly resigned to his fate. But maybe, if Ryan gave him an English name, from Earth, a name no one knew... He could give him a boy's name and no one would find out who shouldn't. And then the only problem was to go through the heaps upon heaps of English names for boys and find one that actually fitted. He thought he'd maybe prefer if it started with a 'B'. Easier to remember, and easier to correct if he started to say Baraka and needed to say the new name instead. He considered Benjamin for a moment, but quickly reached the conclusion that it wasn't a name he saw as fitting a nearly grown man. If Ryan had ever planned to have children, though, maybe he'd use that for a son. And then he got the idea. "Brendon," he muttered, looking into the boy's eyes with a smile. Then he winked. "And maybe it is a boy's name, but who will ever know? No one here speaks my language and yours both."

The boy, Brendon, practically giggled, joy replacing the shame and worry on his face. "I like it!" he declared before pausing, biting his plump bottom lip for a short moment. "What does it mean?"

"Prince," Ryan answered. "Son of the leader. Maybe you are my hemi now, but that will not stop you from being your father's son and having as much contact with your family as you wish. I want you to still be you, even if your life has changed." He gave a small smile. "Brendon Ross," he specified. "Your father's son but part of my 'house'."

Baraka, or Brendon, now, had a wide grin on his face by the end of Ryan's little monologue. "Thank you," he whispered, a look of genuine gratefulness on his face. A moment, though, that expression split apart to give room for a loud yawn that he tried to muffle against his own arm.

"Do not worry about it," Ryan muttered with a small smile. "It suits you." He felt a yawn building in his own chest and put his arms around the younger male once again. "Come on," he whispered. "Let us sleep."

Brendon didn't answer, and when Ryan looked he realized the boy was already far gone into the world of dreams.



Ryan woke up the next morning more than a little confused as to where he was and what was going on, not to mention at a loss to figure out what the source of the firm heat against his front was. He opened his eyes slowly and saw a mess of tangled black hair in front of him, dark eyes peeking out through the locks, and it all came back to him. He felt a small smile spreading across his face and before he could stop himself he'd leaned in and pressed a small peck against Baraka's lips. Brendon, he reminded himself. Baraka's name was Brendon now. "Good morning," he whispered once he'd pulled back. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," the soft answer sounded, and Brendon blushed slightly, biting his lip and looking down, apparently embarrassed about something or another. "I hope I did not disappoint you too much last night," he whispered.

Ryan felt disbelief settle on his features and he was shaking his head before he'd even consciously decided to do so. "No, of course not," he whispered, reaching out to tug a lock of hair behind the younger male's ear. "Not at all," he added reassuringly before suddenly finding himself nervous and fiddling as well. "Do you regret it?"

"No," came the meek answer, followed by another blush. "It... felt better than I thought it would. And I would never regret not being cast out of society."

Something in Ryan seemed to grow a little heavy at that answer, but what had he expected? With the situation at hand, this was probably as good as the outcome could be. "How long have you been awake?" he asked instead, deciding that a complete subject change would probably do them better.

Brendon shrugged. "A while," he stated. "I did not know if you wanted me here when you woke or if you preferred me to do my chores, so I thought it best to stay."

Safest, Ryan thought. Brendon had believed it would be safest to stay, and that something got even heavier, lying like lead in his abdomen and making it difficult to even think about getting up. "You can do whatever you want," he muttered. "You do not have to always ask permission."

The younger of the two looked more than a little bewildered, as though the thought was too strange to process, but then he got off the cloak they'd been sleeping on, and Ryan could see he hadn't even dared to get up and clean himself. Dried come was flaking on his flat abdomen, and when he turned around Ryan could see more on his buttocks and upper thighs, tiny flecks of red mixed in with it and making Ryan feel like an utter bastard. He knew that nearly everyone bled a little during their first time, hell, Ryan had bled more than it looked like Brendon had back when he'd first had sex, but it still didn't fail to make him feel completely and utterly bad.

Ryan averted his gaze, deciding that would probably be more comfortable for the boy, and got up himself, scrunching his nose slightly when he felt the dried come plastered to his own stomach. He had a wet-wipe in one of his pockets, didn't he? He quickly dug out the army jacket and rummaged through the numerous pockets until he found what he'd been looking for. He got out two wipes and handed one to Brendon, using the other on himself and making sure to do it slowly enough that it worked as a demonstration as well. He could see the boy imitating him out of the corner of his eye.

The atmosphere, to Ryan at least, was starting to feel just a little awkward. He'd never been good at morning afters, which probably had a lot to do with the fact that he just wasn't very good with people and interactions and conversations at all. And he was here, in another world, with a boy he probably had absolutely nothing in common with except for the fact that they were apparently married, and he just really didn't know what to say now that the basics and necessities were out of the way. He cleared his throat uncomfortably as he started pulling his clothes back on, carefully avoiding sniffing them. The odd things they apparently used for perfume here just didn't go very well with sweat, or the burnt, ozone-like smell the local weapons gave up. All in all, they were more than a little rank, but it wasn't exactly like there was a washer and dryer nearby, and Ryan wasn't even sure if the clothes he'd packed, not to mention his books and notes, had been recovered or were out somewhere in the desert, covered by feet of sand from the latest storm.

When he turned around, fully clothed, Brendon was nowhere to be seen, and Ryan surmised he'd left to handle those chores he'd been speaking of, whatever those were. Steps still slow from sleep, Ryan followed into the main room, patting at his hair in a mostly vain attempt to get it to lie flat on his head. The main cave turned out to be a flurry of activity. Apparently someone had been hunting, because in a corner a few of the boys were skinning some creature Ryan didn't even know the words to properly describe. Another two were dragging in clay buckets of what looked like milk, which the scientist could only guess came from the big, yak-like, leather-faced creatures. The rest of the Earth team was gathered around the fire and Brendon was grinding grains again, a bit off from the rest while quite a few boys were missing. Ryan could only guess they had gone to find water and other supplies, possibly taking care of different chores, which he was suddenly starting to realize, was something quite vital to surviving somewhere as primitive and lifeless as this planet.

After a few moments' hesitation he walked over and sat down next to Smith, surmising the other surviving team members. Walker, Smith, Spungen, Marlowe and one whose name Ryan thought might be Karkof, but he wasn't sure. Apparently, although he'd been too out of it to notice the previous night, they'd lost yet another man while running from Ra and his men. "Morning," he muttered, English tasting almost strange on his tongue after having had to focus so much on speaking in the foreign tongue.

The others returned his greeting, mostly picking at their food, and Ryan barely even felt his stomach beginning to muster up the will to grumble before Brendon was there, gently pressing a bowl of some sort of porridge with milk poured on it into his hands. Ryan sent him a small smile, murmuring a word of gratitude in the local tongue.

"What was that?" Spungen asked, although by the smirk on his face, he could guess something at the very least.

"My old ma always said I should've gone to college instead of the Navy," Marlowe interjected. "Something about a better shot at life with a background in academics. She can't be too far off if the professor is the one who manages to come to an entirely different planet and still get laid."

Ryan blushed, biting his lip slightly before raising the primitive, carved spoon to his lips, swallowing down the mostly tasteless food to avoid giving an answer. "Apparently we're married," he finally stated once the excuse of having his mouth full didn't quite seem to work anymore.

The rest of the men burst out laughing, loudly and exuberantly. Even strict, uptight, reserved Walker loosened up enough to be clutching his own stomach, loud, gruff chuckles issuing from his throat, and despite not liking the fact that they were all having a great time laughing at him, Ryan didn't think he'd ever liked Walker more than in that moment, when he practically lit up with humor and let loose enough that you could catch a glimpse of the man beneath the mask.

"Why?" Spungen finally asked once they'd calmed down enough to be able to speak. "I mean, he's pretty and all, but still a guy, right? So, he's pretty enough that I can understand being able to look past what's between his legs and fuck him, like we could all hear you do last night, but why marriage?"

Ryan could feel anger starting to stir in his gut, his hand automatically clenching hard enough that his blunt nails dug into the palm of his hand. He sucked in a few deep breaths to calm down, hoping no one had actually caught onto the fact that he was upset over the comment, but however clueless the others looked, there was an expression of sympathy on Smith's face, and one of silent understanding on Walker's – however out of place the look was on his normally impassive face. "Don't talk about him like that," Ryan finally requested, somehow managing to keep his voice calm and the tremble out of it. "And it's not like I know what their traditions are around here. I only realized we were, well, married, last night. And I don't have to look past anything since I was perfectly bent already."

Silence fell on the small group almost immediately. Marlowe was gaping and Karkof had a look of disgust on his face. Spungen looked a bit surprised, but mostly just as though he was having a great amount of fun. Nothing about Smith's expression had changed, but Walker was glaring at everyone and everything. "Anyone have a problem with that, they can come talk to me later," the colonel stated, and no one was left with any doubt that it was an order and that negative words towards Ryan wouldn't be tolerated. "He isn't in the Navy after all," Walker added. "The don't-ask-don't-tell policy doesn't apply for civilians."

Ryan sent him a small, grateful smile and went back to eating his tasteless breakfast, and Smith reached over and gave his shoulder a supportive squeeze.



Brendon seemed to take Ryan's word to heart to the point where the young scientist hardly ever woke up to his partner's presence after that first night. The younger male was up before the break of dawn, taking care of his chores. Before even the other local boys got up, he'd have milked the creatures and have a pot of some kind of breakfast over the fire, and the cave would be just the tiny bit cleaner that was possible. Another batch of excrements would lay at the ready next to the fire, supposed to be drying in the heat the flames emitted. And more often than not he'd already be grinding grains for later use, or doing something or other with the animals the other local boys hunted for and somehow managed to get a hold on every day.

Every evening the team, sometimes minus Smith – or Spencer, since Ryan had decided that the guy was friendly and forward enough to be called by his first name – who, ironically enough, was actually a pacifist and didn't like being part of any armed missions at all, would go out and come back a few hours later with a harvest of the mineral. Sometimes Skaara and one or two of the other boys would be allowed to join, and they always returned exuberant and happy and accomplished, satisfied that they had slowed Ra down just that little bit more in his plans.

Ryan felt quite inconvenient in the whole situation. He had skills, sure, but the only one that was of any use in the situation he found himself in was his ability to act as an interpreter between the locals and the Navy team. But since they still mostly kept apart, he could only do so much. He wasn't used to housework, and most definitely not housework as primitive as what went on here. He couldn't hunt, and he had no military training. Mostly, his days were monotonous and awkward, filled with genuine but often failed attempts to help out with whatever he could.

"Let me come along," he asked Walker one evening, finally having had his fill of being absolutely useless. "I may not know how to shoot a gun, but I can keep watch or... I don't know! Just let me help!"

Walker, whose face had taken on a larger range of expressions by the day, looked sympathetic, biting his lip. This world seemed to be doing the colonel a world of good, at least in Ryan's opinion. "One time," he finally answered, and Ryan dismissed the notion that it was pity, rather than the idea that the scientist could maybe help, that had made him grant even that much. "If you do well, you can come with again, but if you fuck up you stay back here every other time we leave after this, okay? You only get one shot, Ryan. I won't unnecessarily endanger my men."

Ryan nodded, biting his lip softly. He understood perfectly, and he was already reconsidering his plea. He didn't want anyone in danger either, especially for the sake of easing his own boredom. But who knew? Maybe he wouldn't be that bad at it. Maybe he could be of some help, and wouldn't have to sit around feeling so fucking helpless all the time anymore.



Spencer had come that evening as well. Probably to baby-sit Ryan, if the scientist looked at it realistically. At least he was sticking pretty damn close all the time, had been right next to Ryan through their entire trek through the desert, and now that they were at their goal he was still looming close. They were right in front of one of the mines, hidden behind a dune. Walker was peering through some sort of a high-tech looking glass, and Ryan wished he had one too so as to be better able to tell what was going on. The sun was disappearing, and with it the workers seemed to be going. "They leave the mineral they've mined in a cave for the night," Spencer whispered. "They're supposed to send it in in the mornings. We just hope this routine holds despite the goods disappearing from some mine or another every night."

Ryan nodded his understanding, his whole body tense as a whip, anxious for the action and yet excited to finally get to do something. He looked behind himself to see Skaara and one of the other boys whispering to each other and looked back at Spencer. "Those two have been coming along most nights, haven't they?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," the medic answered. "They know where the mines are and which are likely to produce the most on any given day." He chuckled slightly. "Walker is still miffed as hell that he's bringing children on missions, but there's not much of a choice if we actually want success in what we're trying to do."

"I was just wondering how you manage to communicate with them," the scientist stated softly with a small shrug. "Language barrier and all."

"Walker and... Skora, I think his name is –"

"Skaara," Ryan quickly corrected with an amused smile.

"Yeah, well," Spencer muttered. "Your brother-in-law, not mine." He winked, wrinkling his nose. "Anyway, he and Walker have apparently developed this kind of sign-language. They're pretty good at communicating. Not that it's really necessary. The boys show us the best mine for the night. We go in and they stay back and if anyone comes close they make a lot of noise."

"Sounds like that would work," Ryan mused, biting his bottom lip gently. "Have they ever had to alert you?" he then found himself asking, suddenly anxious again.

Spencer nodded. "Once," he stated. "And that turned out to just be boys their age from another one of the towns. The one we were in is apparently the biggest and oldest, the original one, but there are other villages and these boys came from one of those. Had snuck out with some of the local alcohol to have a bit of fun. I think teenage boys are universally the same. But yeah, Skaara and his friend managed to keep them occupied for the couple of minutes it took us to get out unseen, so I doubt they had anything to report for later." He gave a lopsided smile. "This whole thing isn't nearly as dangerous and frightening as Walker likes to make it out to be. I think he has a thing for dramatics."

Ryan raised an eyebrow skeptically. He couldn't really imagine any sort of flair for dramatics in the colonel. On the contrary, Walker was dry and gruff and possibly the most unimaginative person Ryan had ever met, except when it came to military strategies and, apparently, interuniversal sign-language. But then again, the scientist conceded, maybe he should just admit that he didn't actually know the man at all.

"Well, I guess it could be if there were actually any opposition, but so far there hasn't been any at all," Spencer defended, shrugging, and Ryan just sighed and let it go. It would so be just his luck if something did end up happening this night in particular.



The escapade went off without a hitch. So perfectly, in fact, that Walker relented and let Ryan come along as long as Spencer did. Spencer, in turn, took pity on him and took to joining him every night. He was starting to get a grasp on what to do with the long days as well, and helped with the chores wherever he could. It helped a lot when Skaara one day grabbed his arm, wide smile on his face as he explained that husbands should know how to hunt food to put on the table, and then he and the other boys proceeded to attempt to teach Ryan how to catch and kill the array of odd, alien animals that roamed the desert.

If one thing saddened him, it had to be the fact that his and Brendon's schedules didn't really fit together all that well. They both had a lot to do during the days, and didn't have much time to spend together then, and during the nights Ryan would almost always come back to find Brendon already dead asleep, and the younger male was already up and working at the break of dawn, a couple of hours before Ryan ever managed to drag himself out of bed.

Ryan often remembered that one night, the first he and the team had been on the planet, when he and Brendon had been in the cave and had just talked for hours, getting to know each other a bit while Ryan continuously stumbled over and fumbled with the strange syllable and vowels of the local tongue. He'd really enjoyed speaking with the boy, but now it seemed as though he hardly saw more than glimpses of him. It didn't help that he didn't really know how to act around Brendon, what exactly the boundaries were. Sure, they were married according to the local customs, but it hadn't exactly been a match they had chosen themselves. Ryan, in all honesty, had no idea if Brendon were even gay, if Brendon wanted him around at all except as his husband and the way to secure his own status in society. The young scientist knew that he was most definitely more than a little attracted to his young partner, but he also didn't want to impose himself on someone who would rather have a girl. Not that he knew for sure Brendon would want a girl. For all Ryan knew Brendon was openly gay, and being married to another man and going through all the things the younger of the two had initially feared was what happened to openly gay people here. Ryan was just, for some reason, afraid to speak. He just had no idea how to go about any of it at all. And so they still slept next to each other in that room they had adopted as their own on the first night in the abandoned mines, but they hadn't even kissed since their 'wedding night'.

The young scientist would admit to being less than satisfied with that particular status quo, but on the other hand he didn't know what to do about it, or if he even could or should. He wasn't about to get Brendon to sleep with him out of some kind of warped sense of duty. He had no doubt that if he asked for sex he would get it, but there was no way he could bring himself to it. Especially not when Brendon was sick. And he had been lately, attempting to cover it up or not. Ryan saw him rush out in the middle of his chores daily, and if he went out after Brendon had returned and followed the footsteps in the sand, he'd soon be met by the smell of vomit. He seemed paler and more tired, and he sometimes woke in the middle of the night to be sick. And with each day of sickness that passed Ryan got more concerned.

Right then he was watching as Brendon came walking sheepishly back into the main cave, wiping his lips with his arm before heading over for a drink of water more than he was paying attention to what Skaara was trying to teach him about skinning some animal they had caught. It was obvious that Brendon had been out sicking up again, and there was an almost miserable look on his face, which prompted Ryan to quickly make his excuses to Brendon's younger brother before heading that way. After all, from what Ryan had learned of this culture so far, Brendon was his main responsibility, and if Ryan didn't show concern no one else was likely to do so. He plopped down next to the stones where the younger male was, once again, grinding grains to flour, biting his lip in worry. "Are you all right?" he asked softly, reaching out to place a hesitant hand on Brendon's shoulder.

Brendon shrugged, not looking up to meet his eyes. He kept his own gaze averted to his work, keeping the steady rhythm of the grinding stone going.

Ryan bit back a sigh, once again unsure of his boundaries in their relationship. "Spencer is a..." He hesitated, unsure of what word would be appropriate in a society where doctors didn't exist. "Medicine man?" he finally attempted. "He knows deceases and how to cure them. Maybe we should ask him to take a look at you?"

The younger of the two shrugged again, biting into his plump bottom lip. "I am not sure I am sick," he finally stated, voice soft enough to be nearly inaudible. He finally looked up, brown eyes wide and scared when they met Ryan's. The scientist was more than a little bewildered at that comment and did his best not to let it show. Instead he followed Brendon's eyes when they traveled down to the boy's stomach, breathing quickening slightly.

"If you just ate something bad," Ryan stated softly, coming to the conclusion that that was what Brendon was trying to say he thought it was. "You would not have been sick this long. It has been nearly thirty days since you were sick the first time." He breathed in slowly, suddenly shocked at the fact that they had been here for around forty-five local days already. That was over two months in Earth time. And somehow it still felt like they had arrived just the day before. "I really think you should go see Spencer about it," he added.

"If that is your wish," Brendon muttered, bowing his head in submission and Ryan felt a sting in his heart. "I think I already know what is wrong, though, and a medicine man cannot do anything about it. It is completely natural, after all." He looked up once again, still as though he expected Ryan to just open his mouth and give a perfect diagnosis. Ryan, though, was just entirely confused. After a few moments' silence Brendon got up and grabbed Ryan's hand, pulling him gently through the cave and into the smaller room they had adopted as their own. Once there, hidden behind the tattered drapes that went for a door, the younger male guided the scientist's hand to rest on his stomach where Ryan could feel a distinct, if tiny, hard bump. That had most definitely not been there the last time Ryan had seen Brendon naked, and he was even more confused and suddenly scared himself.

Things like cancer could sometimes be felt through the skin, couldn't they? And why wouldn't they have sicknesses like that here? Only, Ryan had no idea why, then, Brendon would insist that it was entirely natural. It most definitely wasn't natural to have so much cancer that it stuck out and could be felt on the skin and not have died of it already. Nor did Ryan perceive it as natural to die of cancer at an age of... around seventeen, he calculated. "Come on," he muttered. "We are going to go see Spencer. I am sure he can do something about it."

Brendon looked horrified and suddenly even more afraid. "You do not want it?" he asked, voice suddenly gone tiny and insecure. His bottom lip was trembling. "I mean, I never thought I would want it either, but now it is actually happening and -" He met Ryan's gaze, begging with his eyes. For what, the scientist had absolutely no idea. "It is up to you, of course," the younger male whispered, averting his gaze again. Ryan could see tears gathering in his eyes. "But I would be forever grateful if you do not make him kill our baby."

Ryan started, looking at Brendon with wide eyes for a moment before he burst out laughing. He hadn't realized anyone from these parts actually had a sense of humor but it most definitely seemed he had underestimated Brendon. He reached in and felt the younger male's stomach again, determined to find out if there was a rock or something up there, still laughing and not once noticing the horrified look on Brendon's face. "Men do not get pregnant," he finally stated, shaking his head. "You really almost had me there. What did you put up your robe to get that effect?"

Eyes widening in confusion, Brendon met Ryan's eyes. "There are no carriers in your world?"

"'Carrier'? What?" Ryan asked, just as confused. "Brendon, men just do not have children. It is one of the many things you have to give up to be with another man."

"That sounds like a very strange world," Brendon muttered, sending Ryan an odd look. "Of course not every man is a carrier. But did you really think my father would have given me to you if I were capable of taking a wife and having children on her? Some of us are just born like this. We do not know why, but it does happen. Not often but not rarely either. And it is a great honor to be given one to marry. We can do absolutely everything a wife can, only better. We work harder, we raise children better, we can lift heavier things, our food is just as good, and we only carry children for half as long." There was a certain pride in his voice all of a sudden, accompanied by a small bit of anger than he seemed to have beaten down as soon as it surfaced.

Ryan was dumbstruck, lips sealed shut in the knowledge that if he opened his mouth he'd end up blubbering a ton of stupid words that would either make no sense at all or make the worst sense there was. His mind couldn't comprehend what he was hearing and he had never known how to handle something he couldn't understand. Somehow, though, his mind made its way back to the suppressed anger he'd heard in Brendon's voice. Obviously the younger male hadn't chosen his role in life by himself. So was any of this actually something he wanted? Suddenly Ryan found himself doubting it. This wasn't what Brendon had wanted, and Ryan had been right not to push for any kind of a further relationship. Brendon deserved so much better than this, but with the... with the child, as crazy as that thought still felt to Ryan, he was caught. And the guilt that suddenly welled up in him at that realization was beyond painful, seemed to cut straight through his chest and make it hard to breathe and he had even less of an idea what to say or do. His hand was still resting on Brendon's belly, he realized, the bulge palpable and real under his palm, and he had absolutely no idea what to do.

"Are you angry with me?" Brendon asked, his voice small and unsure once again. His eyes were wet and the hand that was keeping Ryan's in place was shaking. He bit down on his bottom lip, teeth digging in hard enough that it was getting white.

"No," Ryan hastily reassured. He was nowhere near angry with the younger man, but himself? That was an entirely different story. He also had no idea what to do, but he didn't feel right telling Brendon that either. How the Hell was he supposed to act around a person whose life he'd stolen away without even meaning to, simply through ignorance? Not that he'd really known how to act around Brendon before this revelation, but this just made it that much harder. "I am just... surprised. That is all," he finally managed to state, forcing a small smile. The bump was still there, hard and insistent, and he knew there was no way he was going to be able to ignore this. He bit his lip and gently pulled his hand back, just to find out he had as little clue what to do with his hands as he had with his mouth.

"Ross!" Walker yelled, and Ryan jumped but had to keep himself from letting out a sigh of relief that someone had excused him from what was turning out to be the most awkward moments of his life thus far. But even leaving felt awkward and in the end he resorted to standing on his tiptoes and pressing a peck against the top of Brendon's head before scurrying off.

Part Five