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He was restless, having been home alone all week.Using the evenings alone to catch up on grading papers helped, but that only went so far. It was ten o'clock on Friday night and he was not ready for sleep; not even close.His lips came to me, kissing and touching me. I groaned in a way that could not possibly be mistaken for excitement. Turning toward him, I tried to get him onto his back so I could stroke him off and put an end to this before it started.Instead, he rolled me back, ending up on top of me. I pushed against his chest and said "no". He let out a breath - sounding like a truck releasing its air brakes - and rolled over onto his back."Damn you," he said, "why can't you be in the mood when I am?"Turning back toward him, I tried again to stroke him. This time, he let me touch him, at first. Still, he didn't seem to realize how frustrated I was. In fact, I was only vaguely aware of it myself. If he had kept going with his kisses, if he had stayed on top of me, I would have. In either case, it was an opportunity for him to sew some mayhem.A crash from somewhere down the long corridor behind him made Pan spin, and almost lose his balance as he unconsciously tried to stabilize himself with his missing leg. It was still several hatches back, but it sounded like whoever was attacking the ship had the same ideas about heading for the engineering spaces. He grinned, and kept moving.The hatch ahead was marked 'Fuel Mixing Station 2' and bordered with a red and white pattern that denoted a potentially hazardous environment. It was an ideal spot for a little creative mayhem and he threw the levers that would allow him to override the lockout. Swinging the hatch open and hopping over the lip, he turned to lock the door again and felt a cold piece of metal pressed against the back of his head. A shiver ran down his spine as he recognized the feel of a handgun."One move, one twitch, and I will splatter your brains all over the wall." The voice was wavering, scared.
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