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Back in his quarters, Miller took a look at the tiny mirror on the wall and sighed. He looked like absolute shit. His cheek was streaked with blood, and more dripped from his busted lip. Just looking at the finger-shaped bruises already forming on his neck made his lungs ache for air. Thankfully, though, his nose was still intact, and he hadn’t lost any teeth. Small mercies. Miller had been roughed up more than a few times during his career, but this hadn’t been like any beating he’d taken back on Ceres. Had Naomi not walked in, Amos would surely have killed him without breaking a sweat. Miller tried to wipe off the blood, ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, and settled for just putting his hat back on.
It didn’t help.
If he’d been feeling awful before, it was twice as bad now. He felt sick, sore, and completely drained of energy, like he’d spent the entire night chugging that moldy swill that passed for alcohol on Ceres. The prospect of taking a nap in the Martian-made bed that was too short for his Belter height sounded heavenly.
Miller was in the process of dragging himself to bed when the shadows on the floor changed. Someone was at the door. Doors and corners, he thought, somewhat deliriously. Always doors and corners. He turned around to greet the unexpected visitor. Maybe Naomi had come to check on him, or maybe Holden-
Shit. Shit.
Amos invited himself inside, closing and locking the door behind him. In the already cramped space, he seemed even bigger than normal. Sure, he was much shorter than Miller, but he was broad and strong where Miller was scrawny and weak. Their previous scuffle was more than enough evidence of that. And there was something else about him, that aura of danger that followed him everywhere and that Miller had made the grave, grave mistake of underestimating.
Silence hung in the air, thick and heavy, as Amos let go of the door and turned back toward Miller. There was the faintest of smiles on his lips, a warning sign, the languid confidence of a predator right before it pounces on an unsuspecting target. And pounce he did: fast as a railgun round, Amos closed the short distance between them and grabbed Miller by his shirt, effortlessly lifting his lightweight body into the air.
“You really crossed the line there, smartass. Arguing with the captain. Insulting me. Starting a fight and not even letting me finish it.” Amos shook his head with a short, humorless laugh. It grated on Miller’s ears. “Man, you’re such a fucking pain.”
The sound of his shirt ripping under Amos’ hands didn’t deter him in the slightest. If anything, Miller felt his hands pull tighter, bringing them slightly closer. Somehow, even with his feet dangling off the ground and his heart racing like an overeager rock-hopper, Miller found it in himself to answer. Because provoking the man was obviously the best course of action. “Killing me for it ain’t exactly a rational reaction, kid. Maybe you’re the problem here.”
Predictably enough, talking back was another mistake. Amos’ expression didn’t change as he flung him backwards, easy as though they were in zero gravity. Miller’s back hit the wall with a solid thud, and he fell in a graceless heap, struggling to breathe.
“You just don’t quit, do you? I fucking told you to stay down.” He loomed over Miller, like a wall made of pure muscle and unsuppressed aggression. And Miller had made him even angrier. God, he really didn’t know when to shut up. “And don’t call me kid, old man. That shit might fly with Holden, but I ain’t as patient as the pretty boy.”
Amos paused, eyes roaming over Miller. He became all too aware of his precarious situation: splayed out on his back, too tired to do more than prop himself up with the help of the wall. Whatever speed the Rocinante was burning at, it created an acceleration force that made him heavier than he’d been used to in Ceres. It was like the ground was pulling at him, making it a thousand times harder to try and stand up. His messed-up hair, bloody face, and ripped shirt completed the scene. The very picture of vulnerability. With the door locked, and Naomi and the rest of the crew nowhere in sight, there wasn’t anything stopping Amos from finishing what he’d started, and Miller wouldn’t be able to lift a finger to defend himself.
Well. He did have it coming, to be honest. Should have been smarter than to throw a punch (or two) at the slightly psychopathic fighting machine. And just after he’d survived being blasted with a lethal dose of radiation. Out of the fire and into the frying pan, as always.
Bracing himself against the oncoming attack, he was more than a little surprised when Amos instead leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. What was he playing at? Miller knew he’d gotten in his nerves, and Amos looked like the kind of guy for whom that wasn’t a passable offence.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Amos said. There wasn’t much left in the entire system that could unsettle Miller, but his voice came damn close. “That I’m here to finish the job. Believe me, I really do feel like doing it. But I don’t think Naomi and the cap would approve, and I ain’t in the mood to be yelled at.”
So Amos wasn’t here to kill him? Miller wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. He fought to sit up, the ache on his back quickly making him abandon the idea. Instead, he looked up at Amos and his perpetual fake-friendly smile. In context, it made him look slightly deranged. Jeez. I thought I was going crazy, but this guy takes the goddamn win. “What’re you here for, then? Gonna throw me out an airlock and pretend it was an accident?”
Amos lowered himself, sitting back on his haunches. It did nothing to shift the power balance even a millimeter in Miller’s favor. “No. Not really my style. Like I said, we got some issues to work through, and duking it out didn’t work too well.” Not for me, thought Miller. Was going fine enough for you. “But that ain’t the only way of working out tension.”
To Miller’s shock, Amos reached out a hand, swiped it through his hair, then tugged at it lightly. The sting barely registered in Miller’s mind. “I don’t normally fuck men, but I think I can make an exception,” Amos continued. His smile grew larger, eyes wider. Feral. “Unless you wanna square up again.”
It took Miller a long moment to process the blunt proposition. Once he overcame the initial shock, though, it didn’t seem that bad an idea. Certainly preferable to getting choked out again, or slammed into another table. If it calmed Amos down, it’d already be worth it. What the hell. Why not. With Amos’ hand still fisted in his hair, he only managed a slight nod. But it was enough.
“Good choice. You might even get something out of it too, if you manage not to annoy me.” Amos’ other hand was suddenly in front of his face, and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching. But Amos only smirked and swiped his hat off his head, throwing it to the opposite corner of the room. “Hate that stupid ass hat.”
And then he pulled Miller toward him and kissed him, all teeth and dominancy without a hint of softness. He knew his mouth must have tasted of blood, but it apparently didn’t matter. Despite his exhaustion, Miller did his damnedest to give as good as he got. Couldn’t help but to disobey orders, no matter the context. Fortunately, that only served to egg Amos on. He kept going, moving closer, his hands firmly holding him in place, until Miller was gasping for air for an entirely new reason. Amos let off momentarily, watched with cold mirth in his eyes as Miller eagerly breathed in. His thick fingers moved to his neck, traced the black and purple slowly marring the skin. The marks seemed to satisfy him. “Let this be a reminder. I’m playing nice now, but that can change.” His tone of voice was so level that it was hard to register the threat for what it was, but Miller already knew enough about the man to understand the seriousness of it.
“Yeah. I got that,” he rasped. “Loud and clear.”
Amos’ fingers momentarily tightened around his neck, a flash of pain on his bruised skin. “Good.” He stood up, stripped off his shirt. As had been obvious before, his constitution was even more generous than any regular Earther’s, his muscles thick and defined. Strong. Miller caught himself admiring him, despite the circumstances.
“Stand up and strip. Then get facedown on the bed. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Miller wouldn’t. Moving seemed like the most difficult thing in the world, but even he had enough of a survival instinct to know that going along with Amos’ instructions was his best bet at getting through this intact.
Not without struggle, he managed to get himself up on his feet, quickly discarding his ruined Tachi uniform and his underwear. Amos didn’t stop staring – to make him uncomfortable, he guessed. He was amused to see Miller already half-hard. “You into kinky shit, Miller? Didn’t know you had it in you.”
Miller didn’t bother responding, moving to the bed and laying down as he’d been told. He heard Amos rummaging around one of the shelves, and turned his head to see him holding a small bottle of lotion that had been tucked in with the other toiletries. All of a sudden, he was immensely relieved. He hadn’t been sure if he’d be spared that comfort.
The bed dipped as Amos settled behind him, hands moving to grope at his ass. “You Belters are all so damn bony. At least you do have a decent ass.” He gave him a light slap. It stung, but Miller knew Amos was holding back immensely. Thank fuck. “On your hands and knees.”
Once again, Miller did as he was told. Amos pressed himself flush along his back, arms around his torso like two bars of steel. His hard cock pressed against the cleft of his ass, and Miller felt his hips give a tiny jerk of their own accord. Amos noticed. “Someone’s eager.” He rutted against Miller for a few seconds, let out a low groan. “Hope you’ve done this before. Don’t exactly got the patience to take my time with you.”
Not in a while. Drinking himself into a stupor on an almost daily basis didn’t do wonders for his libido. Still, at least he knew what to expect. Didn’t mean he was completely at ease: Amos’ cock was definitely on the larger side, and it all depended on just how merciful he decided to be. A slick finger pressed against his hole, and Miller willed himself to relax, to make this easier on himself. It took some effort: his body was still very much in fight-or-flight mode, slow on the uptake.
Amos quickly worked another finger inside him, then another, and before he realized Miller was letting out quiet gasps. Fuck, it really had been a long time. Amos curled his fingers just right, and Miller couldn’t hold back a moan. He wasn’t stupid; he knew fully well this was just another way for Amos to show off his power over him. But damn, at least it felt amazing. “I did say you’d get something out of it too if you weren’t too annoying.” Then the fingers disappeared, leaving him slightly dazed. “That’s enough of that.”
Miller turned his head to look at him. His expression was pretty much the same, always that off-putting mask of shallow affability. “I just came back from a station riddled with some fucking nightmare virus, in case you’ve forgotten. You got protection or are you that confident in your immune system?”
Amos grinned and shoved a hand into his pocket, retrieving a small, square package. Miller hardly had the energy to do anything but roll his eyes. “Of course you have that on you.”
“Pays off to be prepared.” The grin that didn’t reach his eyes was still firmly plastered on his face, and Miller idly wondered if he should be scared or not. Given that he’d just been beaten half to death by the same man who was about to fuck him, the answer should probably be a resounding yes. He suspected Amos was done hurting him, though. At least for the time being.
He watched Amos roll the condom onto himself, and then press his cock to Miller’s hole. Miller was silently grateful that Amos had deigned to finger him open, because he pushed in almost all at once, not even giving him time to adjust. Nonsensically, the ache only seemed to feed into his already dripping cock. His groan echoed Amos’.
“Shit, you’re tight. Maybe I should be fucking more men.”
Then his hands gripped him at the waist, hard enough to leave new bruises, and that was all the warning he got before Amos slammed the rest of the way in. He really was big. Miller’s abused body weakly protested the stretch, and he faintly acknowledged the pain through the fog in his mind. Amos stayed still for a second, already starting to pant.
“Well? The fuck you waiting for?” Miller meant to sound aloof and unaffected, but he was betrayed by the quiver in his voice. He tried (and failed) to steady himself. “Just move already.”
Over his shoulder, he saw Amos grin, deranged. “Wasn’t waiting for your permission.” His grip didn’t let up at all as he started going to town, harsh thrusts that shook Miller’s entire body. It hurt, it really fucking did, and Miller found himself relishing in it, his breathing growing ragged. The considerable bulk of Amos’ body weighed him down, tired out his already weak arms. They slowly gave out as Amos continued pounding into him, eventually leaving him with his chest flush against the sheets, completely pinned in place. The thought that he was trapped at the mercy of the cold-blooded (probable) murderer who’d been trying to strangle him less than an hour ago passed through his mind and flew right out again. It was hard to concentrate on anything, especially with his cock dragging along the sheets without nearly enough friction. Much to his dismay, he heard himself whine on a particularly hard thrust.
“You really know how to take it, don’t you? Could make for a decent whore, now that the Star Helix pricks laid you off.”
Miller would have laughed if he still had any breath in him. “God, shut up.”
It quickly turned out the other way around, as Amos pressed his face into the sheets with an iron grip on the back of his neck. “I’ll say whatever the fuck I please, Detective,” he growled. Amos leaned further into Miller, sank his teeth none-too-gently into his shoulder as he slammed into him even harder. At this point, Miller could hardly do anything more than cry out, and clumsily try to meet Amos’ thrusts, with little to no success. The violence and rawness of it all was so close to making him burst, if only he could get a little more friction on his cock…
He moved his hand, wanting to jerk himself off, but he’d only managed to grip himself before Amos growled again and snatched his wrist away. Miller could have sworn he felt the bones grind against each other as Amos pulled out entirely and used his grip on his arm to flip him over. His skin was red and glistening with sweat, finally affected by the proceedings. The look on his face was spine-chillingly feral as he pinned Miller’s wrist right next to his head. He still made a half-hearted attempt at freeing his arm, but it was obviously pointless. There was only one person with power over this situation, and it sure as hell wasn’t Miller.
“I didn’t say you could do that.” Amos’ voice dripped with danger, sent all his instinctive alarm bells ringing. He promptly ignored them. “This is about teaching you a goddamned lesson, Miller. So you better play along.”
As if to illustrate his point, his other hand flied to Miller’s throat, wrapped around it in a mockery of their fight, squeezed. It hurt like hell, and he choked, refused to acknowledge the absolutely nonsensical way the sensation went straight to his dick. But he stayed down, for once. Didn’t attempt to fight back, didn’t have the breath for a smartass reply. Amos seemed pleased, in the extent to which Amos ever seemed anything but completely insane. “You understand, don’t you? Good boy.”
It was humiliating, but obviously that was the point. Miller had seen more than his share of attempts at self-aggrandization, half-desperate shows of dominance. This was nothing like that. Amos didn’t need to prove he was in control, he simply was. He’d told him to stay down, and Miller had immediately ignored the gravity of that command, as though Amos was one of the thugs he’d used to round up on Ceres. No, Amos was a different type of beast. For once in his life, Miller listened to the mangled remains of his self-preservation instinct and didn’t fight the taunt or the steel-solid grip at his neck.
The stalemate dragged on a moment longer; at last, Amos let go of his throat, and he gulped in large, greedy breaths of air. The broad hands moved over him, groping and scratching, before settling under his thighs. Those hands pushed his legs against his chest, bent him in two, and holy shit he really wasn’t flexible enough for this position. The muscles in his legs were already screaming in protest, but Amos didn’t care. With a groan of satisfaction, he sank back into Miller’s ass, picking up the pace he’d abandoned in a matter of seconds. Miller couldn’t move, could hardly breathe with Amos’ weight on top of him and his rough, biting kisses. He was so incredibly dizzy that the acute pains all over his body almost melted away, his head spinning as though he’d been suddenly dropped on the lowest levels of Ceres and was feeling the absurdly intense Coriolis.
Amos changed his thrusts to a deep grind of his cock inside him, hitting his prostate – whether intentionally or not – over and over again. It was too much, and it only took Amos’ toned stomach rubbing against Miller’s cock for him to let out a silent, wordless scream as he came. He could feel himself clenching around Amos’ dick, felt impossibly fuller as Amos groaned in appreciation. Everything went blank for a few moments, and when he finally took stock of himself, Amos was still pounding into him, undeterred. It hurt even more now, his body trembling with overstimulation, but Amos kept on going. Just as he thought he couldn’t possibly take it anymore, Amos slowed down, stilled completely. Miller raised an eyebrow at him, in an attempt to keep a modicum of self-composure – an attempt which was promptly thwarted by the look of him, still shaking and completely wrecked.
His confusion only grew as Amos pulled out, took off the condom and tossed it over his shoulder with characteristic nonchalance. The corner of his mouth raised imperceptibly as he got up from the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet.” Judging by the absolute neutrality of his voice, what he had in mind could be anything from tucking Miller into bed to strapping him onto the ship’s reactor and blowing It up. It was then that Miller realized what made Amos stand out from any common brute: he didn’t even need to try and make himself appear intimidating. His permanent impassivity, whether he was fixing a part of the Rocinante or strangling someone to death, was what made him no less than terrifying. Nothing he’d ever dealt with in his entire detective career could remotely compare to his effortless aura of wrongness. He really should have been smarter than to mess with him.
His sluggish train of thought came to an abrupt halt when he felt himself be snatched by the ankle, a spike of instinctive panic rising in his gut as he was unceremoniously tossed to the floor. Not even allowed a moment of respite, he was manhandled to his knees, and Amos firmly fisted his hand on Miller’s hair, sending a brief flash of pleasure-pain down his spine. His knees hurt – hell, his everything hurt. He was definitely too old for this. But Amos wasn’t done yet. The grip on his hair tightened as he was forced to hunch slightly, his face now right in front of Amos’ cock. Ah. That explained it.
“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, and you’re gonna behave and take it. Understand?” Not that it was really a question.
“Sasa,” Miller mumbled, the Belter word slipping out of his mouth without any input from his brain. Yet another display of vulnerability; yet another small victory for Amos. Well, who was he kidding? It was pretty clear who had the upper hand, and there weren’t about to be any last-minute turnarounds.
A thumb pressed at his lower lip, forcing his mouth to open, and finding little resistance. It was swiftly replaced with Amos’ cock, setting the same punishing pace as before, and leaving Miller unable to do anything but hold onto his thighs and take it. He couldn’t stop himself from gagging, from digging his nails into Amos’ thighs as tears spilled from his eyes and the cut on his lip opened again, dripping blood down his chin and onto the floor. God, his voice was gonna be hoarse for days. He could already picture Holden asking about it.
If he’d had any reasoning skills left functioning, he might have realized how close Amos was, his hips stuttering, groans growing louder by the second. As it was, he was completely taken by surprise when Amos firmly held him in place, thrust into his mouth as deep as he could go, and came down his throat. Instinctively, he tried to swallow, but he wasn’t fast enough. When Amos finally pulled away, he spluttered and coughed and felt come dribbling from his mouth. He tried to wipe it away with a trembling hand, but only succeeded in spreading the mess even further.
Amos was already tucking himself back in his pants, his still harsh breathing and red face the only indications of what had just happened. “Hell, that was better than I expected. Don’t really feel like tearing your head off anymore.”
Miller was shaking with the simple effort of staying up on his knees, but he had to muster enough energy for a dry remark. “Lucky me.”
That proved to be too much, as he then immediately collapsed to the floor, utterly exhausted, filthy and sore everywhere. Amos looked him over, looking satisfied. Almost as if proud of a work well done. “Consider this a truce. But piss me off again, and I’ll break you in two. Stay. The fuck. Down.”
Miller nodded weakly. Didn’t doubt that Amos could and would do just that, given proper motivation. As far as shows of dominance went, this had been the most effective in his life. He watched Amos pick up his shirt, distantly heard the sound of the door opening and closing again, already half unconscious. Getting up to wash off and actually get into bed was an effort far outside his reach, so he let himself stay right there: sprawled out on the cold cabin floor, the soft hum of the ship’s electronics lulling him into sleep.
He sure fucking hoped no one came to check on him.