Entertaining Rafer, a Dark Angel vignette by Glacis. Rated NC17, no copyright infringement intended. Spoilers for "Boo!"

Long week capped by a long day followed by a long night. Max stared down into her glass and let the talk and laughter wash around her. Original Cindy was having a high time showing Joshua around, and Max was enjoying the peace in the middle of the crowd and trying real hard not to think about anything. Especially Logan. Or her place in the world. In his world. The little bubbles in her beer swirled around and everything around her faded away. She heard a voice, recognized it, and looked over to see Logan.

Standing in his office. "It's okay, man. We're all friends here," he soothed somebody she couldn't see.

"Wait a minute!" Huh. Rafer. And he sounded a little unglued. "You're not really German exchange students on a scavenger hunt. You're monsters!"

That tore it. Max stepped up to bat. "Rafer, I had a real nice time. Call me."

Her fist hurt a little for a second, but Rafer wasn't any harder on the hand than he was on the eyes, and he went down easy. "All right, team," she tossed out to the motley crew tagging along with her to track down the assassin's headless body before it did something permanent to a priest, "we're moving out." She glanced over at Logan. "Can you keep Rafer entertained?"

"No problem," he told her smoothly. She nodded.

"Let's go. Come on, kids." Suddenly they were in a tunnel. It was like a scene out of a comic book. Kitty slinked, Dieter sloshed, Joshua's hair flew back as he tossed his head, and they were all walking through molasses. Max opened her mouth to deploy her troops and shut it again so fast she nearly bit her tongue.

She didn't want to go there. "I don't want to go there," she tried out loud. Maybe wishing could change history, if it hadn't been made yet. It worked once before. Not that wishing ever did her much good. Not that she'd wished much.

This time it worked. She started to say, "Logan!" then froze in her tracks.

This was different.

Very different.

Logan crouched over Rafer, who was just coming around from where Max clocked him. He looked groggy and panicked and kind of cute. Logan did something weird, then, the something that had stopped Max from saying anything, letting him know she was there, interfering in a developing situation.

Logan took off his glasses. Folded them carefully. Tossed them over onto the table. Grabbed Rafer by the back of the neck, and kissed him like Rafer was a bottle of water and Logan was dying of thirst.

Max swallowed.

After not long enough of a kiss that made her lips tingle just from watching, Logan broke the liplock and looked down at Rafer, who was looking even more dazed than when he'd first woken up, only for totally different reasons. Logan said, "Hm. Heart rate, respiration, sight unaffected. No anaphylactic shock. No hives. Not even an itch. Nothing but a hard-on. This might work."

Then Max couldn't swallow, because Logan was doing things to Rafer with his tongue that Max had never imagined much less experienced. Rafer wasn't exactly fighting, and it wasn't only because he was short of breath. Although Max couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't passed out from oxygen deprivation with Logan's tongue that far down his throat. Rafer was making weird little gargling noises and pulling at Logan's clothes, and Logan was mumbling something she couldn't quite make out that sounded a lot like "a knot in a board by now" but couldn't have been because that made no sense.

Not that she could make any sense of it anyway. Although at the moment, that didn't matter. Her fists were clenched almost as tightly as her toes were curled, and she couldn't have made a sound if all their lives had depended on it. Rafer was hot, and Logan was hotter, and the two of them together nearly made her spontaneously combust.

Rafer surged up, catching Logan as off-guard as Max with the move, flipping them over and ending up straddling Logan. In all the wiggling around Rafer'd managed to get Logan's sweater off, his pants undone, and his shorts shoved down, although that was as far as he got. Logan had targeted the area of highest priority for a guy and gone directly to Rafer's fly, pulling his jeans and boxers down so there was nothing in the way when Rafer put one hand on Logan's dick and the other on his own.

If only she could get in a little more air, Max would've happily hyperventilated.

Logan was big all over, something she'd suspected but not had the opportunity to see firsthand. Shaking off a silent, slightly hysterical giggle from the pun, she crept closer, eyes glued to the place where Rafer's mouth slid down over Logan's dick.

A little voice deep inside Max yowled, and she might have growled, but nobody heard her. Everything was drowned out by Logan's running litany of "God!" and "Yes, oh, please, yes," and "Son of a bitch!" and "so so so long." He twisted under Rafer's mouth and hands and the weight of Rafer's legs trapping his. His skin looked incredibly touchable, all cream and light gold fur and blood just below the surface making him glow under the sweat. His nipples were standing up, and Max wanted to lick him.

All of him.

Only the knowledge that he'd die if she touched him kept her, whining softly, on the sidelines. It was a pretty effective barrier to intimacy. But hey, she could watch. That wouldn't kill either of them.

Any of them.

Rafer got into the sucking almost as much as Logan dug it, judging by the blur at his crotch as he jacked in time to his head movements. Logan's hands were buried in Rafer's hair, using it as a handle, or maybe reins, it was kind of hard to tell. Max crept closer.

Logan arched his back, his head whacking against the floor, not that it slowed him down any. Rafer screamed around Logan as he came, shuddering against him, coming all over Logan's cords, and Max wondered vaguely how much hot water it would take to get that out. Then Logan arched again.

Yanked Rafer's head up tight against his groin, smothering the last of his scream by stuffing his dick further down Rafer's throat than his tongue had gone, and doing some screaming of his own. Max could relate. She moaned, watching his face, watching his body buck, drinking in the tense muscles under finely furred skin, the white knuckles, the eyelashes against his flushed cheeks, the sweat soaking his hair, the mouth she wanted to eat screaming, "Max!"

"Max!"

"Max!"

"What?!" She bolted upright, only enhanced athletic ability keeping her from flying off the stool and landing flat on her ass in the middle of Crash's Halloween party. Rafer stood beside the stool, looking confused and slightly alarmed. She choked, removed her hand from his throat and swallowed dryly.

"You okay?" he yelled above the noise of the crowd.

"Great," she yelled back. "Couldn't be better!" Shaking off her second weird dream of the night, she muttered, "Could be worse." She looked Rafer up and down, ignoring his confusion and grinning reminiscently. "He could've married Asha!"

-end-