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He flicked the light switch twice in the time-honoured way that let cadets know it was five centons to lights-out. There had been discussion over the yahrens about whether a warning was necessary; some had argued that the cadets should take responsibility for ensuring their lights were out by the prescribed time, especially in this barracks where the cadets were in their final year before graduation and so rewarded for their seniority by being allowed shared rooms rather than dormitory-style. Others, and Jax had long harboured the suspicion that they were of the breed that ‘If it was good enough for me, it’s good enough for them’, had argued that submission to externally-applied strictures would inculcate a sense of military discipline in the young men who were training to become the Colonies’ finest. 

Jax had no real opinion one way or the other on the subject. All he knew was that as Proctor he hit the switch twice at the appointed time, just as he had done every night for the past 24 yahrens. Five centons after the warning, he hit the light switch again, plunging the barracks into near-darkness, the only source of light being the emergency lighting in the corridors and rooms. It was dim, but bright enough to catch the occasional wrong-doer sneaking in past curfew, or making his way to or from another’s bed. Not that that happened too often on Jax’s watch. He had gained a fearsome, well-deserved reputation over the yahrens for inventive punishments. Cleaning turboflushes with toothbrushes was for beginners, as were bouts of physical exercise in the generous snowfalls that Caprica enjoyed. No, he would rather size up the individual cadet, and assign him his punishment accordingly. The typical swaggering young wannabe officer would be demoted for a fixed period, having to salute even the lowly first-year Rats; those who might excel on the sports field but toiled over their classroom work (and Jax had honed his ability to identify those poor, struggling fools) would be assigned extra academic work; those who enjoyed the company of the pretty girls and boys who flocked to the various bars around the Academy were either confined to barracks or, if their offence was not severe enough to warrant it, forbidden from wearing uniform when not on duty. It didn’t take long for even the most obtuse of these to learn that, without the uniform, the girls and boys were suddenly no longer interested.

There was only one type of student that Jax hadn’t yet worked out how to discipline satisfactorily, and that was because in all his 24 yahrens as Proctor of this barracks, he had only encountered the type once. Starbuck should have been an easy mark for Jax: he was vain, cocky, and addicted to flying. He was, it turned out, also completely impervious to punishment, performing the most humiliating tasks with a scapegrace charm that was elusive enough to ensure he couldn’t be punished for a bad attitude, yet which let Jax know that whatever the punishment, it wasn’t working.  Whenever he was being punished, Starbuck’s hair seemed to glint with an extra-annoying shade of gold, and his blue eyes regarded you with just that level of innocence that convinced Jax that they had never known any such state. Despite that, of late Starbuck had not been caught sneaking into the barracks after hours, nor doing much more illicit than running the occasional Pyramid session with some of the more impressionable cadets.

Jax checked the time, and switched off the lights, suddenly uneasy. A quiet Starbuck was not a good sign. He had been lulled into a sense of security, when his every instinct should have been on alert. Instead of retreating to his own quarters, situated at the entrance to the barracks, Jax stood in the dim light of the corridor. He’d been doing this job for 24 yahrens; he knew enough to trust his gut. And his gut was telling him that a quiet Starbuck was an oxymoron. He had to be doing something he shouldn’t be doing, and for him to have avoided detection in his wrongdoing for the past three sectons meant it was indubitably something worse than his previous offences, which was a downright scary thought. Jax briefly considered the notion that his roommate might have had a good influence on him, but just as hastily discarded that. When he had assigned quarters for the yahren, a task which he found just as enjoyable and creative as devising appropriate punishments, Jax’s intention from putting Starbuck in with Adama’s boy, Cadet Apollo, was not rehabilitation for Starbuck. He might be Kobolian, but he didn’t believe in miracles. No, it was more in the hope that the presence of the cadet who had never put a foot wrong, unless it was by being a little too earnest about his studies and his duties as a cadet, would frustrate Starbuck by refusing to collude with him in his many iniquitous schemes. 

Jax started his rounds early that night. He always varied both his timings and his route, knowing that the cadets would make a note of any pattern at all, but that night he made sure to start extra early so he could look in on Cadet Starbuck and reassure himself that the troublemaker was quietly asleep in his own bed.  

He was right on one count, he realised as he looked in through the window that comprised the upper half of the door to the room. Cadet Starbuck was indeed in his own bed. He was, however, neither quiet, nor asleep. It might also have been more accurate to say he was on rather than in his bed. The grey standard issue blanket was still tightly tucked in around the mattress, wrinkled only where it was gripped by the hand of the dark-haired cadet stretched out naked on Starbuck’s bed. An equally naked Cadet Starbuck was kneeling between said cadet’s legs, his head bobbing with an industry that Jax would be surprised to learn he applied to his studies. 

Feeling a thrill of satisfaction that he knew cadets, knew their ways and their wiles and that even Cadet Starbuck could not outsmart him with his blondness and his smiles, Jax reached for the door handle, anticipating as much the horrified looks on the cadets’ faces as the time he would then spend dreaming up the perfect punishment for them both. His hand faltered just as it touched the cold metal. Starbuck’s partner had thrown his head back onto the thin pillow, and in so doing his face had become clearer in the dim lighting of the room. It was Adama’s son.  

The perfect, never put a foot wrong Adama-clone had his legs spread for one of the most degenerate cadets Jax had ever seen go through the Academy. Jax was left in no doubt that it was Starbuck who was in charge here. Cadet Apollo’s other hand might now be wrapped in Starbuck’s hair, but it was Starbuck who was setting the pace, his lips tight around Apollo’s hard cock. 

Jax swallowed as he let go of the door handle and pushed his hands into his pockets, watching Starbuck’s hand disappear into the shadows between Apollo’s spread legs; if he were in any doubt as to what was happening, it was removed by the way Apollo thrust his hips upwards and let go of his fistful of blond hair in order to slam the back of his hand against his mouth, muting the noises his throat was working so hard to release. Starbuck’s fingers were deep inside Apollo, no doubt abut that, working him open. He pulled off Apollo’s cock then, and Jax fancied he could almost hear the sound as he did so, before stroking his cheek against it and smiling up at Apollo, who was slowly raising his head to look down the bed to find out, doubtless, why the blissful heat and wetness he had been thrusting into had gone. 

Jax knew that it was the perfect moment for him to interrupt. But while he itched to discipline Starbuck, he was not an idiot. Accusing Adama’s boy of such an infraction, especially when he was a model cadet in every other aspect of his behaviour would be, to say the least, a career-limiting action. And anyway, Starbuck had moved forward, between Apollo’s legs which were still wide open, his hands resting on the bed on either side of Apollo. Jax clenched his hands in his pockets, knowing that what he was witnessing was against all the rules, but knowing he was powerless to intervene. Even as he watched, Starbuck bent his head and kissed Apollo, and though the light did not really allow, Jax was sure he could see his tongue, see Apollo’s mouth open to accept it in just the same way Apollo’s ass opened around Starbuck’s cock as he slid deep inside. Starbuck started moving, a rhythm that had Apollo groaning, muffled though not silenced by Starbuck’s mouth. The pace picked up, even as Starbuck’s mouth on Apollo’s became sloppier, looser, and the noises they were both making filtered clearly through the safety glass to where Jax was watching. He could not be blamed for shivering when his hand in his pocket brushed against his cock, which had grown hard. He could not be held liable for the way in which his breath came more quickly as he watched Starbuck pushing into Apollo, finally abandoning his mouth and pushing his head against his shoulder so that blond hair mixed with black. It was more than the lighting would show, certainly, but Jax knew every shade of Starbuck’s hair in his every mood, and it stood to reason that when fucking, it would become a more intense shade of gold. Then there were words, broken phrases that he could hear, faintly through the glass – words like ‘fuck’, and ‘Apollo’, and ‘more’, and his hand was somehow out of his pocket and opening his pants, his hand curling round his cock, following the rhythm that Starbuck was using as he drove into Adama’s boy, fucking him open and deep and oh Lords, so beautifully. 

It was quick, in the end. Adama’s boy shot his load and sobbed as he did so, as well he might with Starbuck’s hard cock still working him deep inside, and at that Starbuck’s thrusts got ever more determined, frantic, almost, and Jax’s hand moved ever more quickly until he saw Starbuck tense, every beautiful golden muscle tight, his gasps drowned out by Jax’s as pleasure pulsed through him. 

Though he had wiped it off, Jax fancied he could still feel the cum on his fingers while he finished his rounds. He might not be able to report this but it was his duty to keep any eye on it. If he couldn’t discipline Adama’s boy as he deserved, he should at least ensure that things didn’t get out of hand. Starbuck was, after all, a wild card. It was his duty as proctor to keep his eye on him. If that meant watching the way he fucked Cadet Apollo every night, so be it. He was a man who knew his duty.

End