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"Anatomically impossible, Mr. Garibaldi," Bester had said. He had smiled eerily. "But you're welcome to try. Anytime. Anywhere." That dangerous grin, promising something Garibaldi didn't dare contemplate.

Oh, but he had. He had. As he turned and left, Bester had caught a flicker from him, a buried flare of heat and wanting. Interesting, indeed. Michael Garibaldi, a man known to be wary of telepaths, and outright paranoid of psi cops. Bester doubted that even another psi cop would notice the real truth behind that paranoia, but his own sensitivity was quite remarkable, and when he had made his challenge to the Security Chief, there had been an unexpectedly provocative reaction.

That reaction had been a blaze of sexual hunger, buried deep because Bester could feel the secret terror that surrounded it. But it had been strong enough to come to the surface in that brief moment, and Bester had caught and tasted it with interest. Hmm. There was something sweet to be had there, he was certain. Men like Garibaldi got down on their knees and begged when properly pushed. And Bester was a man who never stopped pushing until he got what he wanted.

Bester went back to his quarters that night to consider his options. He was a little surprised when Kelsey came to his door.

//It's me,// came her mindvoice.

"Enter," he said absently. The door admitted her and she stalked gracefully into the front room. She took in his pose on the couch -- sober, contemplative, unusually dark in mood -- and arched one regal eyebrow.

//You've been distracted all afternoon,// she said, and he glanced up. //Right after meeting with Sinclair in C&C.//

"Sinclair could prove uncooperative," Bester admitted. "But I'm not overly worried."

//Mmm,// Kelsey said thoughtfully. She was amused by the warning look Bester gave her. Such warnings never stopped her. //Garibaldi, then. He's been avoiding you like the proverbial plague, and I know you're more charming than that.// She chuckled at his glare.

"Mr. Garibaldi may find he is not so hidden as he would like to believe, and that he has had the mixed fortune of attracting my attention," Bester replied.

//I see,// Kelsey mused wickedly. She had a striking elegance to her presence, like arrogant nobility. //He avoids you to conceal some nasty little truth that claws its way to the surface in the presence of its master.// She was surprised when Bester grinned.

"You're more right than you know," he said, standing up to pace the floor restlessly.

//Oh, my,// he heard Kelsey say in a low voice. It was not disapproving. In fact, he heard her own lust in it.

"Don't sound so scandalized," he said, amused. "You know my nature. Perhaps better than anyone else living." Kelsey laughed quietly, devilishly.

//I'll leave you to your solitary indulgences, then,// she said, moving to the door. //Feel free to relay it to me if you're so inclined.// She went out and the door closed.

Bester heaved a deep, thoughtful sigh. Kelsey was a pleasurable choice for a colleague. Her vicious demeanor often reminded him of his own, and of the things he tended to suppress in himself because they were so rarely given the chance to find satisfaction.

He walked slowly back into the bedroom, shrugging out of his black uniform jacket. It went down across a chair, and he climbed into the middle of the bed to sit cross-legged. Gloved hands resting on his knees, he closed his eyes and reached out with his mind and his desire, searching delicately for the taste and shape of Garibaldi's mind. It had a special kind of heated signature, as if he somehow instinctively recognized the submission and thirst Garibaldi felt toward him but didn't show outwardly. He smiled and drove in with a black sword of ravenous heat.

Garibaldi groaned softly and twisted in his sleep. His once peaceful dreams had suddenly blazed into layers of intensity and color, a presence coming to him, delicious and impossible...

He turned on his back and realized he was not alone in the room. There was someone standing in the shadows at the doorway, dressed darkly, with dark eyes like obsidian, gloved hands, a gold and silver badge flashing sharply once. It was Bester. He knew an instant of terror, then a wash of painful need and wanting. The psi cop came toward him, a mind touching his own softly and Garibaldi gasped hard at the shock of the invasion of his consciousness...and the naked lust in Bester's thoughts.

//Worship this,// Bester said. //Worship me. You want to. It's the most private thing you possess; that need.// The psi cop climbed into bed with him, straddling his hips and staring down at him. He fought to breathe, ecstasy and fear twisting in his belly like something alive trying to claw free.

"I don't...I don't know how," he managed, his voice strained and desperate. He touched Bester's thighs lightly, resting his palms on them and unsure how to touch a psi cop. "Please, I -- "

//Follow your urges. I want them all. They please me. You want to suck my cock, claw my back while I fuck you, taste my mouth, feel my teeth sink into your shoulder and ribs. I will. Just take it.//

"God, yeah," Garibaldi groaned as Bester leaned down, took both wrists to press them into the bed. A calm, passionate mouth took his own, hard and savage. His voice rose in his throat in a delirious panic and he felt Bester rub something stiff against his leg...

With a panting, starving gasp, Garibaldi awoke, sitting bolt upright in bed. He couldn't breathe enough, gulping for air, drenched in sweat. He leaned his head back.

"Oh, God," he panted. "Oh, Jesus." It had been so real, so intense, unlike any of the other dreams he had ever had about psi cops.

So real.

He froze in midmotion of rubbing his hands back over his head. Bester was on the station right now. A psi cop. A P12. Garibaldi felt rage flame up from deep inside him and in a flurry of motion he was out of the bed and putting on his clothes.

"God damn that bastard," he snarled to himself. He knew now what Bester had done; that the man had mentally raped him, and almost raped him again in a more figurative sense. Or was that a more literal sense..? God damn it...

In another dozen heartbeats he was out the door, striding down the corridor toward the section where he knew Bester had taken quarters on the station. He found them soon enough, and punched his finger against the call pad on the wall.

Bester let Garibaldi's mind pull away from him, panicked into wakefulness. He cursed to himself. In one sense he had come on too strong. In another sense it was exactly what Garibaldi had wanted from him; that total mastery. In dreams things were too difficult to control, the unconscious mind laying traps and trying to protect the self from trauma.

He got up from the bed, pulling his jacket back on. Perhaps Kelsey would be able to provide some kind of soothing conversation. He liked the touch of her mind.

Then he felt Garibaldi again, coming close, down the corridor to his quarters. He grimaced as the door signal burbled.

Garibaldi's anger remained hot even when the door opened, perhaps especially because Bester looked annoyed.

"It's late, Mr. Garibaldi," Bester said. "I hope this is important." Garibaldi felt his rage run hot and he spoke before really considering the position he was putting himself in by leveling his accusation.

"Don't you _ever_ do that to me again," he snarled. "You hear me? If you ever come into my head like that again I'll gut you like a fish and hang you out for the vultures!" Bester looked tired, and possibly even more irked than before.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Garibaldi," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Don't you lie to me, you son of a bitch," Garibaldi spat. He stabbed a finger into Bester's chest, hard enough that the psi cop grunted. "You stay _out_ of my _head_, you got that?"

He had hardly finished the sentence when Bester's hand flashed out and grabbed his hand in a twisting, iron grip. It was a like a vise, holding his hand away from the psi cop's chest. The weariness was gone from the psi cop's dark eyes, and there was a glint of something unholy in them.

"I half suspect," Bester said in a low, purring voice, "that people who consistently get in over their heads are really just looking for the perfect way to drown." His brow furrowed in a coldly shocking kind of curiosity. "What about you, Mr. Garibaldi? Are you looking for the right kind of fear? A certain taste of terror that eludes you? A forbidden desire that is so unthinkable you've come to accept it as unattainable, yet search for it all the same in every other way?"

Garibaldi realized what an idiot he'd been to come here. Stupid, stupid, stupid -- coming right up to a psi cop like this, a man who could read him without even trying.

And yet, was the truth of Bester's words the real motive? When the unattainable flaunts itself, can you possibly resist making yet another grab for it, no matter how badly you could get burned?

Garibaldi wrenched his hand out of the psi cop's steel grip. The urge to flee and the urge to surrender were almost equal. Finally something won, and he stepped back to leave, turning to walk down the corridor. He froze when a heated, sensuous voice touched his mind.

//Michael Garibaldi,// Bester said to him, his mindvoice rough and bizarrely obscene. //If you walk away from this you walk away from the sweetest, most violent ecstasy you will ever know. Its truth is beyond even your hope, and its reward is beyond Heaven...and Hell.// There was no request in Bester's mind, no pleading nor desperation of any kind. Just a statement of simple fact. That, more than anything, chilled Garibaldi to the core. And from within him...fire answered.

Bester knew it, saw it in his mind, and nodded to himself silently. //Go back and wait for me,// the psi cop said. Garibaldi obeyed.

Garibaldi went back to his quarters, tight-lipped and more stoic than Sinclair at his best. He rough-shouldered people in the corridor, not caring at this moment about everyday politeness and the navigational hazards of crowds of people. This was about his soul. This was about something more important to him than he would ever admit to anyone, even if somehow, someone managed to find out about this and confronted him with it.

It was a relief to get back into his own room, with his own scent in the air and his own things on the tables and his own sheets on the bed...Gods, don't think about that yet. Not yet. He stood in the center of the front room, his back to the door. Both hands on his face, he tried to make some sense of the chaos in his heart and groin. He'd had an erection ever since Bester grabbed his wrist during their confrontation. The psi cop must have known it, too, but not remarked on it.

"Damn, this can't be happening," he whispered, rubbing both hands over his head and down the back of his neck. He was quivering uncontrollably -- adrenaline wash in his gut spreading out to fill his body with a need to move. But he dared not. He dared not move. Not away, certainly. Not toward anything, either, not with Bester involved. He couldn't risk destroying this now that it had come to him...slammed into his life like a runaway train. But now...now it was fragile. One wrong move and he would spend the rest of his life knowing that he had been given the opportunity to live out a vicious craving that had writhed in his belly for as long as he could remember -- and ruined it.

The door signal broke into the room sharply, and he started. He swallowed hard.

"Enter," he said, then swallowed again to try to clear the hoarseness from his voice. He heard the door open, then close again, and someone's low footsteps took a handful of paces across the carpet before going silent again.

"Well," came Bester's clear, resonant voice. Garibaldi flinched as if struck between the shoulderblades. "Mr. Garibaldi." Garibaldi stared at the floor, not daring to try to acknowledge the psi cop since his voice was unreliable and he thought if he tried to move to turn around he might do himself the indignity of having his knees give way. He knew his terror would be visible to the psi cop, knew that the man must understand the nature of his motionlessness. "Yes," Bester murmured. "Of course I understand." Garibaldi cringed. "More than you realize. Get down on your knees." Garibaldi couldn't believe he had heard that. The demand sent a flood of astonishment and aching awe through him. His hesitance was not acceptable, and the psi cop's mind flashed into his like a knife. //Get down on your knees, Michael Garibaldi. -Now-.//

Garibaldi grunted in pain and shock at the pure mastery and dominance of the mindvoice that stabbed him. His knees finally gave out and he sank heavily to the floor with a thud, his heart pounding in his chest like a hammer. Excitement and need pulsed in his belly and cock. He closed his eyes as he heard the psi cop move again, walking toward him with the hard steps of military boots.

"An interesting little private truth you have beating around inside you," Bester said from directly behind him. Garibaldi clenched his jaw, holding down the sound that wanted to come out of him, a groan of longing and relish. Bester himself made a sound, a contemplative grunt. It sounded vaguely amused. "And you're quite obedient, too. That's good. I know very well that you would not obey just any man who attempted this. You've been looking for this all your life, hoping in your darkest nights that somehow this would become real for you. To that I can only say: you're a very lucky man, Mr. Garibaldi." There was a sudden rustle of motion, and a black gloved hand reached around to seize him under the chin and throat, pulling his head back harshly, almost choking him. He gasped at the tight grip, trying to swallow past the psi cop's hard fingers. "You want to suck my cock, Mr. Garibaldi?" Bester hissed into his ear. "Claw my back while I fuck you, taste my mouth, feel my teeth sink into your shoulder and ribs? Tell me."

"So it _was_ you," Garibaldi managed. Bester laughed close to his cheek.

"Of course it was me," Bester growled. He came around to stand at Garibaldi's side, still holding the man's head up cruelly. "Did you think a psi cop could come within ten feet of you and not realize the truth of your soul? Perhaps you did. I am, after all, somewhat rare in that respect. And would you, I wonder, react as well in reality as you do in dreams?"

In the next heartbeat, the psi cop was leaning down and kissing him savagely, forcing his mouth open and tasting him brutally. Garibaldi had to react to it, could not keep down the urge to respond even though he feared doing the wrong thing. He reached up to clench both hands into the psi cop's black uniformed shoulders. The taste of Bester's mouth was sharp, like wood smoke on his tongue, hot sulphur in his thoughts -- oh, dear God, the psi cop was inside his head again, probing, licking at him from within his own mind. He groaned helplessly, a slave to the pleasure of it, surrendering to the relief of being controlled, of not having to do anything but obey. As long as he did not make the decisions, he could not make mistakes. Giving up his right to choose, he paradoxically became free, and it was bliss.

Then Bester pulled away, putting a gloved finger to Garibaldi's lips. "Go into the bedroom," Bester murmured dangerously. "And take off your clothes." He stepped back to let Garibaldi get to his feet. Garibaldi felt the man's dark, flint-sharp eyes on him as he moved into the bedroom.

It was an odd meekness, Bester reflected. Unquestioning obedience, filled with sexual thirst and a painful need that went beyond sex. Yet it was punctuated by something fiery. Garibaldi would not give himself completely to Bester without a fight, and Bester knew that it was that struggle which would determine whether or not Bester was indeed what Garibaldi had been waiting his whole life for.

Bester followed calmly, keeping his own arousal deeply buried. He must remain in control of this, at every moment, or Garibaldi would sense the vulnerability and the delicate emotional balance would shatter. Garibaldi only obeyed because Bester demonstrated the proper combination of domination and sexual predation. Anything less would ruin it, and for Bester, anything less would be a disgrace to him as a man. Bester prided himself on the precise traits to which Garibaldi responded so intensely. If he failed to live up to what Garibaldi demanded of him, then he would deserve the humiliation of it. He felt a rush of fire fill his belly and chest, and drew a deep breath to rein it in. It had been a long time since he had felt like this. A long time.

Garibaldi reached the middle of the room, near the bed, and hesitated, feeling Bester behind him in the doorway. Neither of them spoke for several breaths, and then Garibaldi began to take his shirt off. He had to do it matter-of-factly; there was no room in this for contemplation or reluctance. He could feel the psi cop watching him, silent. The shirt went onto the floor with a soft rustle, and then there was a soft metallic clinking sound as he began unbelting his trousers. Just as he got the zipper down, Bester's mind touched him again, softly, with an emotion: carnal admiration. He smiled unconsciously as he shoved his trousers and boxer shorts off. So. The psi cop found him attractive.

"Get on the bed," Bester said. Garibaldi flinched again, but moved. He was quite naked now, having shed his socks and boots. He climbed into the middle of the bed, sitting on his rump, facing Bester stoically. No expression was required of him; the psi cop saw it all in his head.

"Like this?" Garibaldi asked him flatly. Bester smiled at the tone.

"You're afraid I'm going to be entirely too open in my appreciation of your body," Bester said, taking a seat on the edge of the credenza by the bed as Garibaldi watched intently. "At this point that would be much too crass. There will be room for a somewhat more...raw...expression later."

"What do you want me to do?" Garibaldi asked him. It was such a simple question, striking home in his own mind with what it implied about how he had come to be in this position. His hands gripped into the bedcovers until his knuckles turned white. Bester regarded him arrogantly, very still where he sat, half-shadowed.

"I want you to be honest with me, Mr. Garibaldi," Bester said. The voice was like ash blowing in the wind, a coarse velvet purr that made his hackles rise. "I know the instant someone lies to me, and if I sense one in you, I will end this permanently and make certain that no psi cop anywhere will ever touch you. I can crush your dreams. I can shut every door you ever come to, destroy every light of hope that you will ever find the pleasure you seek. It begins here and now and if you play games with me you are finished. Understand?"

"Yes," he rasped. The psi cop's presence was too overwhelming, too darkly magnificent and too much of a rapture to his animal soul. He wondered -- in a moment of unflinching and uncensored honesty -- if Bester had a particular enjoyment of having his cock sucked.

"Yes, I do," Bester said, and savored Garibaldi's flare of sweet terror. "I do, indeed." Garibaldi closed his eyes and swallowed. Bester's low chuckle resonated in the room like pure evil. "You honor me with such raw lust," he said, a smile hovering on his mouth. "You really do."

Garibaldi's jaw clenched in outrage at himself for having such naked emotions. Yet what was to be done for it? The psi cop knew him effortlessly when his feelings were this strong, saw every thought as if he had spoken it, tasted every blaze of hunger as if he had moaned aloud.

"Yes," Bester said sympathetically, getting up from the edge of the credenza. "I know. It's hard being so terribly visible. Or rather in your case it seems to _make_ you hard." He glanced between Garibaldi's thighs, where a stiff cock had been making its presence known for some time.

"I'd rather find out what makes _you_ hard," Garibaldi growled, surprising both of them with the intensity of his desire. Bester moved toward the bed like a panther scenting blood.

"You have that chance," Bester reminded him. He knelt on the bed, close enough to Garibaldi that the man drew a deep breath to calm himself. "Don't waste it."

Garibaldi swallowed hard. To accept this was to risk so much...blackmail, extortion, his professional reputation. Perhaps the safety of Babylon 5 itself. But how much did he care about blackmail? If it came out that he had done this, could he shrug, admit it, and live with the consequences? And he couldn't be extorted, not by this. And if Bester wanted to scan him, there were a dozen less convoluted ways to accomplish it. Perhaps it was exactly what it looked like -- a private encounter between two men whose secret hearts had found a complement in the other. Did chances like this come often? Perhaps it was indeed worth his career, and anyone who reviled him for it could go to hell.

"I hope you're worth it," Garibaldi murmured. Bester's expression became something that sent a shiver rippling up his back.

"Mr. Garibaldi," Bester said. "I am your own id sitting in bed with you. There is no more perfect fuck than one from a psi cop to a normal."

"Hell with consequences, then," Garibaldi said, and reached for Bester's trousers.

Bester held perfectly still as Garibaldi worked at his belt. He was already tensely aroused -- had been ever since invading the man's mind earlier that evening. And when Garibaldi had responded so easily in the dream, and then confronted him at his own quarters, he knew that this was a very rare match between them. Garibaldi wanted to please him. It was a fiercely true and fiercely sublimated urge. But Garibaldi responded to power archetypes, and had found his fantasies made real in psi cops, who were men of extreme power and control. Bester knew that the gender was important, too. Garibaldi loved women, but no woman would ever master him. He reserved that honesty, that secret, for men alone -- to be done by force and violence. To be owned, to be taken by another man. Oh, and Bester was one such man.

Garibaldi had hesitated at the sight of the bulge in Bester's undershorts. Bester felt the moment of dull surprise Garibaldi experienced at the discovery that a psi cop would wear boxers. In that instant's pause, Bester touched his mind -- not speaking, but nudging an idea into his consciousness, a swell of hunger, hot and aching.

Garibaldi felt the contact, knew utterly that the hunger was Bester's own honest emotion. The psi cop was letting him know that his mouth was wanted. There was no point in pretenses, nothing to be gained by hiding his lust for the psi cop's approval and lust for his body. He knew what other people would think of that. He could even hear Sinclair's flabbergasted voice ("_Bester_?!").

But when he pulled the boxers down to bare a gorgeous, hard cock, the lust replaced everything else and he dove for it like a starving animal. It filled his mouth, hot, smooth skin, dark hair tickling him. The psi cop sucked in his breath in a sharp hiss, his legs tensing like iron under Garibaldi's hands. He felt a flood of perverse pride that he had gotten under the psi cop's steel reserve and elicited that reaction, and he was determined to do whatever it took to make this willful and controlled man howl with pleasure.

Bester held his breath for a long moment after his cock was engulfed in heat and wetness. He bucked reflexively when Garibaldi slid his tongue into the slit at the tip. Then he growled, letting the breath out in an indulgence of his own pleasure. Garibaldi flinched, and Bester felt his arousal flare sharply. Bester smiled, teeth bared, and let himself growl again, low and threatening. That sweet flame of fear and lust from Garibaldi again -- Bester couldn't hold back a short laugh of delight. The mouth on his cock was sheer bliss, appealing to his animal nature with relentless ferocity, and quickly rousing his desire to fuck.

//Kelsey,// he called out with his mind, tensely searching for her. Normally he would not have at such times, but something wistful and pained in her mindvoice earlier that night made him reconsider. She answered him, clearly surprised, her mind touching his acceptingly. He knew she would be able to feel the wash of his sexual pleasure, and it echoed back to him gently. //Victoria.// More shock from her. //Share this. I think it is much too rare to risk not knowing, even though I have been so closed to you in the past.// He gasped at something Garibaldi did with his teeth, and Kelsey's eager and savage response reflected back to him.

//My God, he's sweet,// she said, her mindvoice fierce. //Bester...Alfred, thank you. I need it more than you know.//

//Oh, gods, he's biting me,// Bester said back to her. //Nipping at my cock, damn...// He groaned hoarsely and Garibaldi pulled roughly at his trousers, getting them down around his knees. Hands reached for his buttocks and flanks, rubbing, groping him hungrily. Bester allowed it, feeling the luscious satisfaction Garibaldi got from it, holding him.

Garibaldi felt Bester tense again, and grabbed his ass firmly. It was a firm, muscular rump, delicious and perfect. Bester was bucking slowly, fucking his mouth, and he hummed in pleasure.

/Come on, psi cop,/ Garibaldi thought savagely. /Give it to me. Come on, you fucker. Come in my mouth. Damn you, I'll make you scream./

//Will you,// Bester replied, shocking him. He kept forgetting...damn...a telepath... //We'll see.// There was violent amusement in the mindvoice that time, and Garibaldi shuddered. The psi cop was tense, buttocks clenching in the gentle, arrhythmic fucking of his mouth. He sucked hungrily, toying with Bester until the psi cop clenched a gloved hand into his shoulder.

Bester quivered with the laugh that tore out of him at the raw worship in Garibaldi's mind. He gave a snarling hiss of feral delight at the edge he kept coming near, and then falling from as Garibaldi teased him. Even so, such fantastic, metallic fear and harsh, flaming sexuality were not to be endured for too long without release. He was close, so close, and Garibaldi was going to go for it without pausing to tease him again.

The cock in Garibaldi's mouth was deliciously big, and the psi cop was trembling, body pulled taut like a steel cable, head thrown back, breathing hard through his teeth. Well. Garibaldi intended to find out if that control could be maintained throughout the orgasm he knew was rising in the psi cop's belly. He could almost smell it in the room, burning his nostrils.

Too fast, too fast...Bester felt something rip through him like a dagger, dragging a howl out of his throat. Garibaldi's hands raked his flanks, scoring him until he bled, and that moment of pain made the orgasm explode. Crying out, grunting, snarling, he looked down at where Garibaldi sucked him viciously, and put his gloved hand under Garibaldi's throat again as he filled Garibaldi's mouth with his ejaculation.

The peak of it flamed past him in another heartbeat, and he massaged Garibaldi's throat gently, stroking with his fingers.

"Swallow," Bester whispered. "Swallow it." Garibaldi obeyed. There was a lot of it, tasting sharp and salty. "That's it, Michael, take it all." Garibaldi gave a final, thorough suck on his cock to get the last of it, and pulled away. Bester lifted his chin up until Garibaldi met his eyes. "You're very talented," Bester said in a low, breathless voice. "Oh, very much." The psi cop kissed him again, tongue searching for a taste of himself. When he withdrew, Garibaldi was gulping for breath. "Quite ready, aren't you?" Bester murmured, using one gloved finger to stroke at the tip of Garibaldi's stiff cock just enough to take away the thick bead of wetness there. Garibaldi flinched sharply at the touch, then watched breathlessly as the psi cop tasted it, seemed to consider it carefully for a few seconds. "On your belly," Bester said. "We'll see if you can take me."

Garibaldi hesitated, meeting Bester's heated, obsidian stare for just a moment before rolling onto his stomach. He closed his eyes at the sound of Bester disrobing and draping his black uniform on the floor. Then the bed shifted a little and a warm, muscular weight settled around his thighs -- Bester's naked body sitting on him. A violent shudder rippled through him and he swallowed a moan. He couldn't stop his hips from rising off the bed a little in stark invitation. Bester chuckled quietly, his legs tightening against Garibaldi's. There was the sound of something being opened, like a jar. "You were able to make me howl, Mr. Garibaldi," Bester said. "Just as you promised. Now it is my turn to make you scream. You will beg before I am done. Your civilized layers will burn away in the face of raw desire brought out in full. You will understand what it really means to be fucked. Normals attempt it but lack the ability to do it properly. For that, a telepath's talent is needed. And, like you, I am very talented."

Something cool and liquid hit Garibaldi's buttocks and he gasped. It ran down between them and one of Bester's hands -- oh, God, he had kept the gloves on -- parted the muscular cheeks to let the lubricant slide over his anus. The cold alienness of the sensation made adrenaline flood through him again and he quivered. His hips moved once more of their own volition, silently pleading for what Bester threatened him with.

"Do it," Garibaldi hissed. "Fuck you, _do_it_." His dreams were nothing like this. This was a dozen times more intense and heartstopping than any dream or fantasy he had had. But there had been times when he begged for this, pleaded with dream lover psi cops to ram a hard cock into him. He wanted this so much it hurt, wrenching in his gut like a fist closed around his heart and stomach. His cock was so hard and so sensitive he was surprised that the friction of the bed alone hadn't sent him over the edge.

//So desperate, Michael,// Bester murmured into his head. The mindvoice was hot and taunting. The psi cop's muscular legs moved to get between Garibaldi's thighs and coax them apart. //But my body is only half of it. There is a cock that lives in my thoughts, too, a pure penetrating urge. Feel that and understand my side of this.// Garibaldi let out a cry of shock and delight as Bester suddenly shared with him the truth of the desire to fuck him, the presence of the mastery, the lust to own. //Yes,// Bester hissed. //You do understand.// Garibaldi whimpered, wanting it more than he had ever wanted anything. A gloved hand touched his ass, opening him, and then there was a hard cock nudging against the entry to his body, slick and impossibly, deliciously big...

White-hot pain as he was impaled -- in his ass and in his head. Bester growled as he pushed, then gave a hard gasp before finishing the thrust. It was like nothing Garibaldi had ever known, an enormity of sexual hellfire and piercing cock-centered hunger all shoved into his consciousness and pushing out every other thought until his existence was nothing but being fucked by this psi cop.

"Oh, yeah, my _God_," he gasped, clawing into the bedcovers. Bester leaned over him, one trembling, leather-covered hand on the back of his shoulder. Bester pushed again and his cock was buried to the root. Garibaldi groaned through a sharp, savage grin at being able to take it all, every inch. "Yeah, fuck me, you bastard. Do it."

//I take you at your word, Michael Garibaldi,// Bester laughed roughly into his mind, and began a fucking that burned Garibaldi's mind to ashes. Rational thought, the ability even to think in words, vanished completely in the inferno of the intolerable, sweet, aching ecstasy of Bester's mind fucking his, and cock fucking his quivering ass. The gloved hand on his shoulder was a reminder of the nature of the dominion even if the mind inside his own was not. Bester was a strong man, unexpectedly so, and his thrusts were hard and sharp.

Something terrifying rose in Garibaldi's belly, from somewhere deep within his soul and animal heart. At first he thought it was just the orgasm...oh, gods...Then he was gasping, grunting, swearing incoherently at the psi cop who rode him, sweating and grunting softly on his own. He clenched both hands into the bed, clawing at the sheets.

"Fuck," he hissed. "God damn, it's...I can't...please, Jesus, that's so good, fuck me, damn you, Bester. Come on, fuck me..." It was too bright to contain, the howl that exploded within his soul, pressing at his throat, too large to express. He felt his cock, being rubbed hard into the bed, tremble violently, and Bester's rough mindvoice and savage, beautiful cock became pure fire for the next few breaths. And Bester was holding him back! The psi cop had a death grip on Garibaldi's orgasm with his mind and was holding it! Garibaldi writhed, enraged. "God damn you! Do it! You cocksucking bastard, do it, take me, fuck me..." His voice rose in a wail, a keening yell of joy and anguish and thirst and pain at the feeling that tore at the edges of his consciousness.

"I will," came the psi cop's strained, vicious snarl. His hips bucked hard, breaths wild. "But I'm waiting for this -- " Garibaldi screamed as Bester shared the orgasm that erupted out of him like a shattering dam. Bester's voice broke into a yell that sent a chill up his spine but he was lost in his own release, his cock letting go beneath him to wet the sheets against his belly and chest. He felt the cock buried deep in his body spasming, long, hard surges filling him.

It had just begun to recede when Bester leaned down suddenly and bit his shoulder brutally. He cried out, more in pain than anything, and Bester spoke to him harshly. "I mark you, so you will remember for a few weeks after, and know it was real." Strangely, he did feel grateful, as if needing to have a real grounding of this event in his concrete life.

Bester continued to sit astride him, cock buried in his body, for several minutes after the climax had left them both and they panted lightly in the aftermath. Garibaldi didn't move, blissful and content to lie there and feel the delicious weight on him. Bester could feel Kelsey at the edge of his mind.

//Alfred,// she said. Her mindvoice sounded strained, at the verge of repressing a laugh or a sob. //I didn't know you were like that, my God.// There was hunger in her, too, distant and warmly sated for the moment. //That was...priceless. Thank you.// She withdrew from him before he could reply, and he let her go. Then the words that Garibaldi couldn't say before came into his throat.

"This never leaves this room, right?" Garibaldi said. It was less of a demand and more of a hope, a plea. Bester sighed heavily, equally content in what they had done.

"This stays between us as men," Bester said. "Out there in the real world we are completely different people. This, tonight, will remain here forever and not leave with us when we go back out there." Finally, he pulled out, and Garibaldi moaned softly at the loss.

"Damn, you're magnificent," Garibaldi whispered, eyes closed, listening to Bester get dressed. The psi cop grunted a soft laugh.

"And you, Mr. Garibaldi, are very, very rare." When it was apparent that Bester was going to leave, Garibaldi rolled over and sat up in the bed. Bester paused in the bedroom doorway to look at him.

"Is there...are you ever coming back to Babylon 5?" he asked. Bester smiled enigmatically, silver and gold badge flashing as he inhaled.

"Perhaps," he said. "And perhaps, if you are...obedient...we might do this again. I think I would like that." He left Garibaldi like that, staring up at the ceiling, quivering, aching.

The next day Kelsey was killed. And Sinclair made it quite clear that the incident was not going to be reported back to Psi Corps as it had happened. Garibaldi had made a pointed and hard remark about a ship leaving the station within the next hour and "suggesting" that Bester be on it. It was the remark of the Garibaldi that Sinclair knew, perhaps even the remark of someone who really existed apart from the man Bester had fucked the previous night.

Garibaldi went with him to see him off the station.

"I'm sorry about, uh, Kelsey," Garibaldi said to him in a low voice, not meeting his eyes. Bester regarded him calmly. There was grief in the psi cop's onyx eyes, tightly held because such emotion was not for normals to witness.

"So am I, Mr. Garibaldi. I'm even more sorry that you did not know her, and will never understand the real tragedy of the loss." Garibaldi hesitated, then nodded. Bester lifted his chin slightly. "Next time, Mr. Garibaldi?" It was a gentle question, not quite a demand. Garibaldi flushed and swallowed, glancing around them hesitantly as if thinking someone who had heard might somehow understand the hidden meaning to the words.

"Yeah," he said tightly. Bester smiled wickedly and turned to leave. Garibaldi watched him go, realizing in that moment that this obsession, far from satisfied, would consume him for the rest of his days. He shivered, and went back to his quarters.

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