#I love the way Holden responds to Amos’ weirdness

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

{Amos calling Holden Captain is my jam!}

[cosmic-day]

So, the Expanse finale made me very happy. It wasn’t perfect – there are a few shows of recent years which to me have had god-tier finales (Black Sails, The Leftovers, Crazy Ex Girlfriend, The Good Place) and if it wasn’t quite in that league, it’s partly because it felt like more of a pause than a true finale, with one problem resolved but the larger threat still very much out there. All the same, if we never get any more Expanse, I will be satisfied with this ending. More, spoilery thoughts below the cut:

Firstly, as everyone and their (strange) dog has said: there didn’t seem much point in the sub plot on Laconia unless they hope to get to tell this story later (or unless they just want everyone to read the books, which fair enough). I enjoyed the Laconia story, it was suitably creepy and reinforced the irony of the solar system tearing itself apart while a much greater threat awaits. But it was a bit of a weird choice to set up something that goes nowhere in the end.

As far as the main action is concerned, I loved how they resolved Marco’s storyline – disintegrated, defeated, wiped from existence. And I loved that it was Naomi who came up with the solution to defeat him, and I loved that – once again – it was an engineering solution, because the show doesn’t just see Naomi’s job as a line in a character bio, it’s integral to the way she thinks. Allowing Filip to escape, and Naomi never discovering that, the final speech where Naomi unknowingly explains why that doesn’t matter, was stunning and a perfect resolution. (And Dominique Tipper played all of that brilliantly, especially that harrowing and apparently improvised scream).

Also, how rare is it to see a fictional mother prioritise her own health and well being, and the welfare of others, over her child’s? Naomi loved Filip, did everything she could to save him, but when that became impossible, she not only walked away but chose her new family, and the greater good, over him. I’m struggling to think of another fictional example.

I was torn, in the lead up to the finale, between whether Naomi or Drummer should be the ultimate cause of Marco’s downfall. They both deserved it. In the end it was the right choice for it to be Naomi. I do wish Drummer had played a more integral role though – the Avasarala/Drummer scene in “Why We Fight” was iconic and will be one of those images which define the show for years, but ultimately her contribution to the fight didn’t make much difference. But she does end the show in a position of power. I do wish she had just taken it, rather than it being gifted to her by Holden. On the other hand, I did enjoy that one final moment of James ��I just want a nap” Holden being horrified as he realises he's about to be landed with yet more unwanted power.

In the end, though, this is about the Rocinante and her crew, and the show left them all alive and in a good place (thankfully – I was sure Bobbie and Clarissa were goners there for a minute). The tensions between the crew in the early episodes were necessary, considering everything, but it was a joy to see the new, extended Roci crew come together as a family in the end.

I really liked how they handled Clarissa this season. I was not a fan of hers before, I admit, but this was a redemption arc done right for me – no big sacrifice, no demands for forgiveness, just Clarissa keeping her head down and doing the necessary, dirty work. And of course Naomi would respond to that. Not only is it, as she admits, what she wanted for Filip, but it’s also what she did herself after escaping from Marco the first time. So their reconciliation felt both real and earned.

For the record, though, Naomi had every right to be angry with Amos for bringing Clarissa on board without even consulting her, and I continue to be frustrated with those corners of fandom who seem to think Naomi isn’t allowed to have feelings.

Speaking of Naomi and Amos, I have always loved their relationship, and my first reaction to their  moment of reconciliation was to wish for a little more. On reflection, I think what that scene was trying to say was that they no longer need each other as much, because of the growth on both sides, and that’s a beautiful place to leave them. And Amos being to Clarissa what Naomi was to him was a really powerful end for Amos.

If I had one other minor complaint, it is that I really wanted one final scene between Amos, Holden and Naomi – the surviving, original crew. But the show ended with the Roci still flying, heading out into the black, with her family together and happy. I can’t ask more than that. Good hunting, Rocinante. I’m going to miss you.

[navilluswrites]

I Have Loved The Stars Too Fondly To Be Fearful Of The Night Part 1

Amos Burton x OC

Tyco Station. The Belt.

August.

The clinic was busier than normal today. Which meant that August and everyone else working there was spread thinner than normal. Which, under the best of circumstances, i.e. a fully stocked and up to date clinic with a staff that was fully trained, fed and rested, would have been able to handle but this wasn't this best of circumstances, this was Tyco. A station on the belt which as a general rule was never a place where the best of circumstances never seemed to occur.

August was going back and forth between three different patients. She was holding on the lungs of a kid named Kai when the com sparked to life. "August, Fred needs you at the docks. We've got injured incoming," came the female voice of Fred Johnson's second in command, Drummer. August clenched her jaw in annoyance and continued her work. She directed one of the nurses to what medicine the kid needed and had moved onto the arm of one of the five Black Sky members who were currently in the clinic. The Black Sun and some other OPA faction had gotten into a scuffle and the Black Sky had gotten their asses kicked and come limping to the clinic to be patched up. The genius she was currently attending to thought, despite his recent loss, that he was a badass and right before she reset his arm, kept asking her out for a drink. He stopped when she reset his arm.

The com crackled again, with the same voice, sounding slightly more annoyed "August."

"Kinda in the middle of doing my job right now," she responded while putting the cast wrap over the guy's arm.

"Last time I checked, part of your job is listening to your boss."

"Damnnit, I'll be there as soon as I can." She looked around frantically until she made eye contact with the other doctor.

"Go," said the older man, Ted, "I've been around here long enough to know how to hold down the fort."

"Sorry," she grumbled with an apologetic grimace before grabbing her medic bag and rushing out into the busy corridors and heading to the docks.

-----

"Alright, I'm here your highness, now what do you want?" she said with a mock bow as she caught up with Fred and Drummer.

"We've got some guests coming, and I suspect they'll need some medical attention."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh?"

"Trust me, this will be important."

"That line is getting really old," she grunted as she set her bag down on the ground and sat on one of the shipping containers. She and Drummer exchanged a look. She'd rarely seen Fred this...eager she supposed was the word for it, but also nervous. She racked her brain to think of who this important "guest" could be and all she could figure is it certainly wasn't a Belter. It wasn't that Fred didn't care about Belter's, he wouldn't be here if he didn't, but sadly Belter's rarely had anything to offer other than maybe some intel or boot on the ground. They didn't have the money that Earth or Mars had that opened doors to something that would make Fred react like this. That being said August didn't have the clearest insight on the inner machinations of the OPA. She was from Earth originally at least and eventually found her way out onto the belt for more than a few reasons but largely as a way to escape her old life and the people in it.

A few minutes later the docking clamp locked onto the ship they were waiting for. "Wait for me here," Fred said before walking onto the bridge. "You know I could be helping people instead of waiting around for you," she called after him in a tone that was somewhat teasing but also carried a note of irritation.

About fifteen minutes later Fred came back and gestured for her to come aboard. She wasn't sure what she was expecting but an MCRN gunship with James Holden and his crew was not it. But it did explain why Fred had brought a welcome committee. He was trying to woo them, either to get them to give him information or get them to do something, possible both based on what she knew of Fred.

There were four people on the ship. Three men, all Inners, and a Belter woman. They were all that was left of the Ice ship that had been blown to bits...and then the Mars Flagship that had suffered the same fate. Either they were saboteurs extraordinaire or the most unlucky bastards off all time. Even before they showed up at Tyco's doorstep the station had been abuzz with theories about them: who they were, what they were doing and why. For fairly obvious reasons a lot of people were trying to convince themselves that they were secretly OPA operatives because that would mean that the OPA had a plan. Based on her observations of the OPA the last few years, however limited, she didn't think that was the case.

The crew viewed her with suspicion as she entered, Fred Johnson looming over her. Considering what she knew about them she figured it would be fair that they'd be a suspicious lot.

"This is August. She's one of the top medics on the station and more importantly, I trust her. After what you've been through I want to make sure none of you move going to die on me. If there is anything you need during your stay here please let me know," with that Fred Johnson turned on his heel and strode back through the bridge. Leaving August, much to her annoyance, among the strangers who made it clear from their facial expressions that they didn't want any help. The Belter woman spoke first.

"We've all checked with the med-doc it gave us the all clear. And no offense but being trusted by Fred Johnson doesn't count for much in my book."

August chuckled, "That's fair but look I'm not here to try to get in your business, just let me do my job and check your vitals, make sure nothing's off and I'll get out of your hair." The Belter looked like they were going to argue when the man of the hour, James Holden, chimed in, "Can't hurt." The Belter and Holden exchanged loaded looks and then she shrugged and walked back over to a computer.

"Alright well seem like it would make sense to do this in the med bay?..." August said tentatively.

"Follow me" Holden gestured. Once in the med bay August ran her scans on Holden and was surprised when nothing came back. "How the hell did you survive two shipwrecks without a scratch?"

"I got lucky....others weren't so..." while he spoke she noticed the bags under his eyes, they were so dark and hollow he almost looked like a character in a horror movie or something.

"Are you sleeping okay," she asked while casually re-checking the data from the scans.

"What?" After a beat, he added, "As well as I can."

"You've been through a lot. A lot of trauma. I'm no psychiatrist but physical health isn't the only thing you need to take care of. Without your brain, your body's not much good."

She said with a kind smile, which to her surprise he returned.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said before heading out of the med bay and waiving the next person in. The next guy was also definitely an Earther. She flipped through the charts until she found his picture and name. A voice in the back of her head made note of the fact that he was "extremely fucking hot", but she shoved that thought away, she at least wanted to act like a professional even if she didn't always think like one (or act like one off the clock).

"You must be Amos?" she asking while glancing the information up his previous med doc scans.

"Yup," he said in a flat affect as he sat down.

"Says here you broke your leg?" She asked while trying to gauge his reaction. Where the Belter, Naomi, had seemed suspicious, and Holden welcoming, Amos seemed to be totally neutral, unnaturally so.

"Yeah, when we were leaving the Donnager." He said, still emotionless.

"Mind if I check it out?"

"Do what you gotta do," he replied. She knelt down and rolled up his pant leg. She took the med wrap off it, it was Mars tech so it was significantly better than what she had used on the OPA kid earlier today, and it had seemed to get the job done, she hadn't noticed him limping at least.

"What happened?" She asked as she scanned the injury.

"Got shot while getting out of there." His response was like a soldier giving a report on something very routine. Which is wasn't. Any of it. What led up to getting shot. Getting shot and blowing out your leg in an escape, and yet he acted like it was nothing. Holden seemed like he'd been through hell, this guy on the other hand...

"Hm...any pain when you walk," she questioned while checking the bone.

"Would you be able to do anything if there was?" His response caught her off guard, she supposed Fred's endorsement had only made her seem less trustworthy.

"I could try. But you didn't answer my question."

"It's fine," he said after staring at her for a moment. She was checking the scan and surprisingly it looked pretty good.

"Would you tell me if it wasn't?" She raised her eyebrow in question.

"Cap says you're okay so, yeah." His face was expressionless which seemed strange to her, she tried not to dwell on it, like she told Holden, the psyc end of things wasn't her bag.

"Alright well, I guess the Mars med-tech did the trick. My medical advice: stop getting shot at." She gave him a smile but he didn't react, just seemed to asses that she was done, got up and walked out.

It was certainly a weird interaction but she shrugged it off and continued on with her check-ups on the two other crew members of the Rocinante.

[ahdriking]

This is the first thing i've posted in a think a year, it really has been a long ass time. I'm kinda nervous about it! But I really love this fandom and I'm obsessed with this pairing right now, so the muse hit me and now this exists.

Fandom: The Expanse Pairing: Amos/Holden Rating: Explicit Tags: Post-Season/Series 04, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Open Relationships, Fuck Or Die, Dubious Consent due to fuck or die tag, Aphrodisiacs, Weird Alien Shit, Porn With Plot

Summary:

“Haha, truth!” Naomi had exclaimed, when Holden had made his choice. “James Holden,” she hiccupped, “if you could fuck anyone, other than me, obviously, who would you fuck?” She grinned, and spilled her drink on her jumpsuit.

Holden was drunk. They were being very honest. It was one of those nights.

“Amos. I’d fuck Amos.”

If only Holden had known how those words would come to haunt him.

Chapter One: Weird Protocrap Shit

Holden recalled in perfect detail every decision, every moment, that led him to that inevitable end.

He and the Roci crew were a month out from the ring station, on their way back from… Whatever Ilus was, and, out of nowhere, a rogue ship had shown up dangerously close on their sensors. A swooping feeling had tumbled through him the moment he saw it on the screen, like being rocked by an ocean swell. The tumbling turned into a tug, as the spaceship sailed by overhead.

“What the fuck is that?” Naomi asked, dumbfounded, as she stared at the screen. “How the hell did it get that close without pinging our sensors?”

They were out in deep space. In the dense wilderness of a system inhabited by a handful of humans thousands of light years away on a lithium rock. There was nothing behind them but Ilus, and nothing in front of them but the station and the ring gates.

So where the hell had this scrap heap come from?

Holden sat at his console, pressing a flurry of buttons as he flagged the ship. “Unidentified vessel, this is the warship Rocinante, please identify yourselves.”

There was nothing but silence over the comms.

Holden turned to Naomi. “Do we know if they can hear us?”

Naomi shrugged with her hands, the belter way. “They seem to have radio transponders, but I can’t detect activity on any recognised frequencies.”

Holden turned back to his monitor. The picture of the rickety looking ship wasn’t unfamiliar, he’d seen a thousand like it out on his travels through the stars, a hallmark belter rockhopper rig. But out here? How that tin bucket even managed to get out past the first ring gate he couldn’t begin to comprehend. To have wormed it’s way past every single warship of the combined naval forces of the sol system, and then snuck up behind them in deep space? To have survived that long out here in a ship that looked welded together out of spare parts? It wasn’t possible.

It was hard to think that it could have come from Ilus, no one else but the RCE team and the belter refugees were on that rock, and none of them had been cobbling a spaceship together in their spare time. It was harder to think that it was some kind of sanctioned vessel. Avasarala’s ass was clenched so tight about anything and anyone getting through the ring gates, this plucky little vessel didn’t seem likely to have slipped the net.

Something didn’t add up.

“Unidentified vessel, this is the warship Rocinante. If you do not respond, we will be forced to consider you a hostile entity and respond accordingly. This is your final warning.”

The silence spoke for itself. He’d give them the benefit of the doubt, once. Nobody got it twice.

“I don’t think they give a shit, cap,” was Amos’ helpful commentary.

“What do we have on ladar?”

Naomi’s fingers flew over the terminal, information zipping by on the screen at a furious pace. “Ship’s got atmosphere, sealed compartments. Doesn’t seem to have additional vessels stowed or escape pods. Dirty reactor burn too, but the drive signature… it’s weird. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Holden came up behind her monitor. It was for show, more than anything else. He couldn’t figure out a word of the gibberish info the screen was spitting out at him.

“It’s… normal, but not. It’s burning dirty, I can get a clear waste calculation on that, but the reaction efficiency… it doesn’t match up.”

“Is this another one of those ‘laws of physics have left the conversation’ situations?” Amos asked.

Naomi frowned. “No. Maybe... No.”

“One of those sounded less than reassuring.” Alex called down from the pilot deck.

That weird sensation that had been tugging after the ship was shifting, settling somewhere deep in Holden’s core. A strange… pull. It wasn’t like the protomolecule, that had been silent since Ilus, it was something more distant, but more real. It wasn’t even there, really, the more he tried to focus on it, the more it slipped away.

They needed to follow that ship.  The thought was piercing in it’s clarity, it made perfect sense, it was so utterly right he was having a hard time thinking about anything else. He needed to follow that ship.

“Alex, lock on that target, set a course to pursue.”

For a moment, the three of them just stared at him.

“Holden…” Naomi frowned. “Jim, are you sure that’s the best idea?”

By the looks on their faces, Holden knew the sentiment was shared between them. He shared it himself if he was being honest. But still there was that… tug. He needed to pull the thread. It was scratching inside his skull like a rat trying to escape a cage.

“We’re out in deep, unexplored, extra-galactic space. And yet, a scrappy rust bucket teleports onto our sensors, out here, in the middle of the great big fucking nothing,” Holden said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “You seriously wanna let that shit go?”

There was a moment. Another. Then, like a wave breaking, each of their faces split into a grin as they revelled in the thrill of the promise of another mysterious chase. They were the Roci crew, they didn’t not chase weird shit out into the great beyond. Alex, yee-hawing like a cowboy, floated up to his perch, and the rest of them strapped in for the ride.

They caught up with the ship fast enough at a brutal, but short, high-g burn, but there was no way they were going to be able to board at the speeds they were going, and the old bucket didn’t show signs of slowing down. The closer they got, the stronger the tug deep in Holden’s core got. It was… pervasive. Like something beckoning to him, using a beacon directly lodged in his brain, with tendrils curling up behind his navel to keep the signal strong. There was something on that ship, something that was calling out to him.

“Fair warning cap, any hit’s probably gonna blow that bucket one way to scrap!” Alex informed him as they drew within PDC range.

“Match speed and maintain; that rust bucket can’t run forever.”

“You got it, hoss.”

It turned out that the rust bucket lasted longer than Holden thought it would. It was two hours at an uncomfortable 3g burn before the tin showed signs of slowing, and even then only fractionally. Naomi was muttering under her breath about efficiency and some other technoscience genius Holden could never comprehend, while she tapped away at her hand terminal, looking increasingly perplexed.

Holden busied himself during their chase by sending a message to Avasarala before they left tightbeam range. “We’ve intercepted an… unidentified spacecraft, we’re currently in pursuit with intentions to intercept. Peacefully, I promise.” He could already hear her swearing. “Unless they shoot first. We’ll radio in as soon as we’re back within comms range. Rocinante out.”

They were well out of comms range of the UN now, well out of map or scanner range, hundreds of thousands of millions of light years away from anything or anyone except whoever --or whatever, Holden shuddered to think-- was on that ship. They really were in unexplored territory here. The tug in his gut gave a pull, almost to punctuate that point.

***

After a few hours at the high burn, they were all starting to feel it. Alex and Naomi first and hardest, but Amos and Holden inevitably. It felt like trying to move while buried under shifting sand, Holden thought, and frowned at the idea that he didn’t know if a single one of his crewmates would be able to appreciate what moving through sand might feel like. Amos, maybe, but based on what he’d heard about the man’s upbringing in Baltimore, he doubted it.

The tug had settled sometime in the last few hours. It was a constant, dull pressure tugging behind his navel now, but it wasn’t flaring up any more in those insistent pulls. It kinda made him hungry. A weird kind of hungry, not quite for food but for something else, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It seemed to be… content, at any rate, with their pursuit of the ship that seemed to be it’s source. Holden couldn’t ignore the coincidence of those two developments; the tug was definitely related, somehow, to the ship. The implications of that made his blood cold, the idea that something, somehow, related to the protomolecule might have survived, that it existed on that ship, was an intimidating idea. Wherever it had come from, wherever it might be going, perhaps there was more of this source. If that was the case, Holden felt morally bound to investigate it, and do something about it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Naomi shifting at his side. She tried to hide it, of course, but he knew her well, every inch of her body, he could tell when something was wrong, and she was starting to show signs of extreme discomfort at their high-g trajectory. Holden felt that familiar protective instinct rear its head. He reasoned that the rust bucket had slowed down to under 2g burn now, and they would easily be able to dog her at a distance until she ran out of fuel. Maybe another few hours, given how long she’d maintained that brutal burn for. They could afford to play chasey a little longer. Long enough to let Naomi breathe again, at least.

“Alex, reduce burn but keep them on scopes, and don’t lose them.”

“Aye, aye, hoss,” Alex chimed off.

Naomi smiled at him, insightful as always, and quietly grateful. Holden unstrapped from his seat and squeezed her hand tightly, kissing her on the mouth for as long as she would allow it. He caught Amos looking, when they broke apart. Always shameless, the engineer just grinned, before making himself look busy.

“You wanna catch some zzz’s before this goes off?” Holden asked, leaning over Naomi’s chair to lower his voice.

“Is that a euphemism? You’ve got’a work on that smooth talk, Jim.”

He smiled, breathing out a chuckle, his cheeks crinkling into dimples that made his beard scratch. “It wasn’t, but if you’re--”

“Not offering, unfortunately. Some of us have work to do.” She mollified him with another kiss as she unbuckled herself from her seat.

They both made their way down to the galley for coffee, movement possible now in the lower g burn. Holden was itching after a few hours without his special favourite coffee maker and her sweet nectar of love, and he made a frankly pornographic noise as he sipped his first beverage. Naomi rolled her eyes theatrically, but he knew she enjoyed every filthy second of it.

He watched her, standing across the kitchen from him, hip cocked and leaning her pert ass against the counter, her tattooed chest on display, the curve of her breasts visible just underneath her slacks. God, she was beautiful. He drunk her in like she was every bit as sweet as the coffee. It wasn’t unusual for him, living in close quarters with his lover provided ample opportunity for shameless oggling, but he felt himself appreciating it with a different kind of intensity. The steadied tug behind his navel seemed to warm, and suffuse into something a little more familiar, as he felt himself taking interest.

"What’s that look for?” Naomi was watching him with an amused smirk on her face.

“Oh, just enjoying the view.”

He felt in a teasing mood. He put his coffee down and sauntered over to her, taking her tiny waist in his big hands and pulling her close, pressing her right against him in all the right places. He kissed her, first her mouth and then her jaw and then her throat, his stubble scratching her delicate skin, his lips leaving trails of fiery, lingering kisses that felt so good, but every sound she made even better.

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” Naomi asked, breathless, as he kissed his way up to her ear, his teeth grazing her earlobe and making her shiver.

“Just want you, is all.”

Naomi practically purred under the praise, but she was still firm when she put her hands on his chest and gently pressed him back. “You know I love you,” she said, and her eyes were so beautiful and earnest Holden could have melted. “But I do actually have shit to do.”

Holden laughed, unable to be disappointed when it was coated in such a beautiful package. He was disappointed though, if his slowly softening erection was anything to go by. The tug pulled again, for the first time in hours, in an almost irritated way. Holden wondered, fleetingly, if this weird protomolecule-esque presence had a vested interest in the activity in his pants. That was an uncomfortable thought. Those long nights on Ilus without Naomi, and the Miller/Investigator hovering over his shoulder had been hard enough.

He was distracted from that thought as Naomi chuckled and kissed his cheek, carefully avoiding brushing up against him like the tease she was. “Go ask one of the boys for help if you’re horny, the promise of violence usually gets Amos in the mood.” She grinned like the devil.

Holden croaked out a laugh, shaking his head. They’d gone down this path before, and Holden couldn’t help the tantalising memories that swam to the surface, reminding him of their night on Tycho so long ago… He shook his head, shaking the memories away, trying to stop his brain from conjuring those fantasies again. It didn’t quite work. The thought had lodged in his head. The echoes of something long forgotten took hold. The tug coiled.

Naomi seemed to notice, because she petted his cheek almost comfortingly. “Aww don’t worry,” she winked, “I know exactly how much you’d like it.”

Holden’s brain couldn’t seem to stop short circuiting. Every flash of fantasy that broke through his mental barriers made the tug preen. Unbidden, a vision manifested; thick, strong muscles, tan skin and downy brown hair, every sculpted line rippling with exertion as he rocked-- a thick, uncut cock jutting from the crease of his thighs, hard and flushed red and so big as he closed his hand around it-- a hand, wrapped around Holden’s throat, squeezing like a promise, as that giant body pressed flush against his back--

“Earth to Holden,” Naomi pinched his cheek, drawing his attention. “Get your mind out of the gutter, you slut.”

“Sorry…” Holden frowned. “My heads being weird.”

Naomi looked concerned, her beautifully arched brows creasing. “What kind of weird?”

“I don’t know…” He wanted to explain the tug, the strange pull he’d been feeling ever since that ship had appeared, but he found himself unable to find the words. It was almost like he didn’t want to, like the tug wanted to stay secret, hidden, only for him.

Maybe it would be best if he did keep it a secret for now. After all, they’d only just finished dealing with the weird protocrop that had conjured his imaginary friend in the shape of Miller for years. None of them needed to be dealing with the threat of more of that right now, not until it was absolutely necessary. And, for now, it was just a minor annoyance, even if it was amplifying his inability to keep his mind out of the gutter.

“Jim?”

“It’s ok,” Holden kissed her forehead. “Just one of those days.”

Naomi didn’t seem convinced, but she let it go. When she left to go do her work, Holden found himself watching her again, taking in every inch of her. The tug gave another satisfied pull.

***

Holden had a lot of time to think, during their drawn out chase of the rust bucket. A lot of time to think about things he’d rather have left alone.

He thought about himself and Naomi. They had an interesting relationship, but it satisfied them both. In a nutshell, they weren’t exclusive. Not in the way that they went out of their way to seek out other partners, but more than their hearts and heads had more than enough room for love and interest in both each other, and potentially someone else, if the stars happened to align. It was pretty common for Belter couples to have relationships like this, Holden knew, as the vast distances of space made monogamy sometimes impractical, and Holden had grown up in a parental collective, so it was as normal as breathing for him to entertain the idea of multiple partners, even separate ones.

Naomi and Drummer had a thing, Holden knew. It was complicated, she didn’t like to talk about it much, but Holden knew the history there was deep and full of longing, and Naomi wanted it to be more. Drummer was a more elusive entity, but that was one aspect of Naomi’s life Holden didn’t really have a place in, so they never talked about it much, and Holden didn’t really know what the other woman’s feelings were. Holden wanted them to make it work, he wanted Naomi to have her love reciprocated, and didn’t feel intimidated by the idea of sharing her with anyone. He had always been supportive, as much as he could, and Naomi had always expressed her love for him for it.

Holden didn’t really have anyone else in this way, and that was fine by him, he didn’t need anyone else. But Naomi, the wonderful woman that she was, had made her feelings clear on the subject one drunken night after they’d gone dancing on Tycho, the same night Holden had been trying so hard to repress earlier.

“We have each other, I’ve got you, always,” Naomi had told him, naked as her birthday on Holden’s lap, her hard nipples very distracting. “Pay attention Jim! We’ve always got each other, no doubt, not ever. If your heart leads you down a bright path, you follow it. You got me?”

“Bright heart, leading path, gotcha.” Holden was more interested in the kisses he was trailing down her breasts.

“I mean it,” Naomi laughed, a breathy sigh, her legs falling open and she ground back on his cock. “If your heart calls you, if your dick calls you, you have permission to answer.”

They’d talked about their lives, before all the madness of the Canterbury and protomolecule, after they’d made love. Dreams they’d had, funny childhood memories, they bragged about people they’d been with. Holden had been very proud of his five man marine reach-around story, until Naomi had started talking about some kind of twenty person dock quarantine situation. That was… a quick path to weird places.

They’d played truth or dare; the belter version though, where if you didn’t do your dare or answer truthfully you were literally risking life and limb. A lot of alcohol had been involved.

“Haha, truth!” Naomi had exclaimed, when Holden had made his choice. “James Holden,” she hiccupped, “if you could fuck anyone, other than me, obviously, who would you fuck?” She grinned, and spilled her drink on her jumpsuit.

Holden was drunk. They were being very honest. It was one of those nights.

“Amos. I’d fuck Amos.”

Naomi had blinked owlishly at him. “Amos Burton?”

Holden remembered, all at once, his many regrets. “I didn’t say anything.”

“That’s really fucking hot.”

Holden really loved Naomi Nagata. He didn’t think he told her enough.

“Hot, huh?”

“Oh yeah. If I close my eyes, I can just about picture you bent over his mechanic bench, jumpsuit around your ankles, those pretty little whimpers escaping those pretty little lips.”

Holden swallowed, thickly. He knew she was teasing him, but he couldn’t help it. She knew him well.

“I bet he’s got a big cock, bet he knows how to use it too. Bet he holds your hips down real tight as he fucks that cute little ass.” She sat on his lap, ground down, and holy shit Holden couldn’t have stopped her if he tried. “You ever let a guy fuck your ass, James?”

Fuck. She only ever called him James when she was feeling really kinky. “Yes, sir.”

“You want Amos to fuck your ass?”

God it was wrong. It was so wrong. They were dirty talking about fucking Amos.

In for a penny, though, right? He had certainly been in for more than a few, as he shared with Naomi, in genuinely explicit detail, just how willing he was to let Amos fuck his ass.

The next day had been… interesting. Awkward, at first, then they’d laughed about it. Neither one of them could really look at Amos, though. He probably suspected something, and knowing his filthy mind, he probably wasn’t far off from the truth.

“You know you have to actually tell me if you fuck Amos,” Naomi had whispered, after an awkward encounter in the galley one morning. “Like, seriously. He’s basically my brother. I need to know if you’re fucking my brother.”

“Oh, you mean the brother we’ve been sharing fantasies about?”

Naomi had slapped her hand over his mouth to shut him up, but he won her over with a well placed hand between her thighs.

The issue had dropped. It seemed to run it’s natural course, which was to say, nowhere at all. That had been a few months ago. An age, with all the shit that had happened since. Holden hadn’t thought about his latent desires for Amos since, not really. A passing glance was as much as Holden’s interest demanded.

Now, though… Holden couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Naomi. Amos. Both of them. Sometimes just Amos.

Mostly just Amos.

The tug seemed to amplify it. It was like something simmering under his skin when he let his thoughts wander, bubbling like champagne, so deep inside the bubbles were nothing but whispers, but whispers that were slowly getting louder. He couldn’t focus properly.

He tried to bury himself in manuals, chugging down coffee like it was his last day on earth, and spent way too long just staring at the exterior hull of the prize they were chasing, like he could somehow figure out it’s secrets just by looking at it. But, if he was being honest with himself, he was entirely lost in his head. Thinking about… things. Things he probably shouldn’t be thinking about.

In his defence, it was Naomi’s fault. She had put the thought in his head, and now the thought wouldn’t go away.

Eventually, it became too much to bear. He was sitting at their family dinner table, reading a fucking manual about redunancy systems, and his dick was so hard in his pants it was physically painful. The fucking tug just wouldn’t stop. The flashes of Amos just wouldn’t stop. Even thinking sinful thoughts about Naomi would morph into thoughts about Amos, too. It was a torment, one he hadn’t experienced since he’d been a horny teenager for God’s sake.

He gave up, and went to his cabin to do something about it.

He didn’t bother undressing more than was necessary, instead pulling himself out from his unzipped fly gingerly, harder to maneuver when he was this fucking turned on, and over a couple of teenage fantasies about his fucking mechanic, too. It really was quite pathetic. He was going to nip it in the bud, he was going to get off, thinking sexy thoughts about Naomi, and he was going to forget all about it. Problem solved.

His brain had apparently not gotten the message.

He tried, he really did. He thought about Naomi’s soft skin, her feminine curves, the sweet taste of her and the beautiful sounds of her pleasure. And then a flash of Amos, hard and big and everywhere would rocket into his head like a 20 kiloton nuclear bomb. He thought about pushing himself inside her tight, inviting heat, thought about the magical way it felt to be so close to her. And then Amos, so strong he could push Holden around, break him in half, hold him up against a wall and destroy him. It was a losing game of cat and mouse, Holden was never going to be able to shut it out.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he gave up trying to pretend.

He fisted his cock hard and fast, his mind supplying the fantasy of someone else's hands performing the ministrations, someone else's mouth… God Amos had a pretty mouth. A filthy mouth. He’d suck Holden’s cock like it was a game, teasing and brutal all at once, toying with him, knowing victory was already guaranteed. He’d be rough, but considerate, like he was in all things. He’d be pushy, if Holden wanted it. Fuck, Amos was so strong, every filthy thought about what Amos could do to him with that strength made Holden throb.

He imagined getting fucked against a wall. He’d fucked plenty of people up against walls, but never anyone strong enough to do that to him. Amos could do that. God, he would beg Amos to do that. He’d pin him there, his fucking biceps bulging with all that strength and power attuned to the simple task of taking Holden apart. Amos would have to cover his mouth, Holden was loud, he always had been, especially when he was getting fucked. Would Amos like that?

What else would Amos like?

Holden spat into his fist, and started stroking himself with increased fervour, the twisting, coiling, tugging desire finally getting exactly what it wanted, what it needed, practically purring in pleasure as Holden built towards climax.

He imagined Amos pressed against his back, hand wrapped around Holden’s throat, forcing his head up so he could lick and suck and bite at his jaw while his cock hammered a ruthless rhythm inside him, breaking him open, claiming him so deep he’d never forget the feeling--

“Update on our little leprechaun here, she finally seems to be outta gas. Main reactor core is in shutdown, drag’ll slow ‘er down to boarding speed in about an hour.”

Holden jumped nearly a foot in the air. It was like a veil had been snatched from over his eyes, and the reality of what he’d just been doing sunk in. That was… Holden didn’t… What the fuck was even wrong with…

“Orders, hoss?”

His cheeks were burning. He could feel the flush travelling down his throat. He was never going to be able to look Amos in the eye again.

“Good work, Alex,” Holden forced himself to say, wincing at the huskiness he hadn’t managed to clear from his voice. “Start prepping for docking manoeuvres, brief in ten. Amos, uh, get ready for suit up.”

His dick was still hard. It wasn’t going down. Not even the fucking shame of it was making it go away. The tug had come back with a fury. It wasn’t pleased at being denied, apparently.

Holden was starting to think this might be a problem.