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Disclaimer: They're not mine. Never were. No $$$ made. So much for capitalism.
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Lieutenant Malcolm Reed was a closet romantic.
On the outside, he gave the impression that he was tough, that he had little feeling, that weapons were his only interest.
Very few knew the truth.
Malcolm loved to read classic literature and had a fondness for romantic poetry. His favorite movies were not Lethal Weapon or Die Hard, but Terms of Endearment, Bridget Jones' Diary and, though he would die the most wretched of deaths before he admitted it out loud to anyone, Dumbo. His weapon of choice was to out-think his opponent, not some random weapon, although weapons and explosives worked quicker and more efficiently...and were more fun.
Malcolm Reed was also hopelessly in love with one Charles 'Trip' Tucker the Third and he had been for many years, since the day he had first caught sight of the Southerner at an engineering symposium he had attended on a lark, before they had signed on for Enterprise. Malcolm was an ardent lover of women, but there was something about Trip Tucker that made his heart skip more than a few beats.
At first it had been the looks alone. No, Trip wasn't handsome in the classic sense, he wasn't what was considered gorgeous, but he had a down-to-Earth look about him, a bright smile and blue eyes that took Malcolm's breath away. As Malcolm grew to know him, as he got to know the man inside, he fell deeper in love. The wild sense of humor and sarcastic wit, the honesty, the bluntness and most of all, the intelligence. Yes, Malcolm had, as others before him, assumed that Trip was a "dumb hick" no matter what his educational background. But over time he had developed true respect for Trip, something that Malcolm didn't give to many people and he knew for a fact that the respect was returned tenfold.
He had nearly confessed all when they got drunk on the shuttle pod, figuring that they were going to die together. He had nearly blurted his feelings when they were tied up on Risa. He had shed tears in the privacy of his quarters the day they buried Trip's clone, which was the most gut-wrenching day of his life.
They had shared fun times, good times, camaraderie that few would ever experience.
Trip Tucker was also one of very few genuine friends that Malcolm had ever made in his life.
And now, years later, he was sick and tired of hiding everything - he was finally going to tell Trip what he felt. He knew that if Trip didn't feel the same it could destroy their relationship, but he was beyond caring - his heart couldn't take the secret anymore. In Malcolm's mind one of three things would happen:
One, Trip would turn him down and they would continue their friendship and their mutual respect of one another.
Two, they would be irrevocably damaged as friends and would no longer be able to work together. Malcolm was ready for that particular scenario - he had already prepared a letter of resignation for Captain Archer and was ready to take charge of the newly formed Starfleet weapons development program if need be.
Third and last, Trip would reciprocate the feelings and they would begin a romantic relationship.
Malcolm wanted to tell Trip how he felt to his face, but didn't know if the words would come out properly. Knowing himself very well of course, he'd be hesitant, the words would come out wrong and he would make a fool out of himself.
So he opted for the old-fashioned way of confessing one's love - the proverbial love letter. He picked up a pen and began to write, but after a dozen tries (and crumbled up paper) he decided on an email. It may not have been as romantic as a hand-written letter, but at least he could make corrections more easily to make sure the words came out right. After another dozen tries, he decided to keep it simple and straight-forward.
It was a bit disjointed as he was unaccustomed to baring his emotions, but he tried his best....
++++++++
I am writing this letter because I cannot verbalize the words themselves and I need to say them to you.
In our time on Enterprise we have fought together, nearly died together, have learned to respect one another.
We have yelled at each other, butted heads regarding the respective personnel under our command and had disagreements that would put major wars to shame.
I have watched you since the first day we met. Your voice makes me sigh ever so silently and I know you have never heard those sighs. Until now I have been forced to hide my feelings, but no longer - the secret I carry is destroying me from within.
I find that I have fallen in love with you, that you have stolen my heart as no other has done. I did not believe it was possible to feel the way I do, that these types of emotions only occurred in books and movies; I have been proven wrong.
I want to kiss you, crush my lips against yours, taste you, take your breath away. I want to caress every inch of your bare flesh, make you writhe and beg, make you scream my name in passion. I want to make love with you, feel you underneath me, our bodies entwined as one being.
I want to hold you when you are in pain and make that pain go away; to show you how much I care, both in body and soul. When you are saddened, I want to replace that sadness with joy and happiness.
You have made my life complete and no matter what the outcome, no matter what your feelings, I am a better man having known you. You have taught me that there is more to life than just existence, that just being is not enough.
I would die for you without a second thought.
You are my heart's true desire and I pray that you feel the same.
No matter what your feelings towards me, I will always love you; will always care for you, that will never change.
Malcolm
++++++++
When he was done, Malcolm read what he had written and was more than satisfied. At first he thought he should use a proper closing salutation, perhaps 'Love, Malcolm' or 'Yours forever, Malcolm,' but opted to just sign his name.
The Captain commed him, asking if he had written the report on the new MACO's and sent it to Major Hayes. The armory officer said he hadn't, but would get to it right away. He opened up a blank email and wrote his report rather quickly, including a few other (private) things that he and Jeremiah had discussed.
Malcolm then got a comm from the armory asking about the new "phasers" that Malcolm had designed and "Could they be used for target practice?" He screamed "NO!" and advised that he would be there shortly to school them in the use of the weapons, which were more dangerous than the "phase-pistols". In a rush, he quickly entered the recipients of the emails and sent them off.
Trip's went to Hayes and Hayes' went to Trip.
~~~~~~~~~~
Michael Rostov was in love with Major Jeremiah Hayes.
He was so far gone that Liz Cutler noticed and sat him down, probing him for the identity of his unrequited love.
The love-struck Ensign waxed poetically about Hayes, how he was perfect, how he was a take charge man, how Michael had this fantasy of talking him into a wrestling match in the gym, showering with him afterwards and fucking him in the shower...or being fucked in the shower. He also casually mentioned that he would love to take the Major on a "trip through 'the tunnel of love'" and kiss him senseless.
Trip was passing by and heard parts of it...the "gym and showering" part and the word "trip".
He was thoroughly convinced that Michael Rostov was in love with him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Travis Mayweather was pleased as punch. He'd had dinner with Jonathan Archer the previous evening and it had been lovely.
There had been candles on the table, proper dinner settings of cloth napkins and real silverware, wine, and a main course of steak and potatoes. There had also been Cherry Clafoutis for dessert and a viewing of An Affair to Remember, one of the most romantic films of all time.
They'd ended the evening with Jon asking if Travis would care to have dinner with him again, the request given with a bright smile - a genuine smile - and a light in the Captain's eyes that Travis had never seen before.
The Ensign said yes without having to think about it and noticed that Jon leaned in as Travis was about to leave. Travis was convinced that the man he had been in love with for some time now was going to kiss him, but they were interrupted by a comm from T'Pol, who needed to speak with the Captain.
Jon gave Travis an even brighter smile, reminded him that they had a "dinner date" the following evening and responded to T'Pol.
Travis left the Captain's quarters with a warm feeling inside.
The next day he located the Captain in the newly added arboretum and walked towards him, prepared to kiss him, to tell him that he knew that Jon was in love with him and that Jon's feelings were returned.
Instead he heard Jon speaking about true passion and real love. As Travis got closer, he saw that Jonathan Archer was speaking with T'Pol.
Travis was brokenhearted and bit back tears of pain; he'd thought that Jon had feelings for him, feelings of caring, of warmth, of love - not T'Pol, but him. He fled from the arboretum quickly and thus did not hear his Captain laugh out loud and tell T'Pol that he would give up his beloved cheesecake (and coffee and chocolate) if Travis Mayweather would give the slightest inkling of being interested in him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Jeremiah Hayes was not a man who grew confused easily.
He had joined the MACO's at 21 and had quickly risen through the ranks, becoming a Major before he was 30. He was tough and could kick anyone's ass, with the exception of Malcolm Reed; that had been proven on more than one occasion. Every time they went at it, either he got his ass kicked or it ended in a stalemate.
The Lieutenant was smaller, more wiry, and although muscular, he didn't give the impression that he was physically dangerous in the slightest. But he and the other MACO's had learned the hard way that Malcolm was not a man to be reckoned with. His team of 15 MACO's, all larger than Malcolm Reed in height and weight, dreaded any and all workouts with him and were prone to hiding anywhere to avoid them. When Hayes got the idea for them to put on spacesuits and hide outside the ship, Malcolm put one on himself and moved the workouts there.
At one point Malcolm had been the bane of Hayes' existence and the Lieutenant had torn his ego to shreds, but that had been a few years before - over time he had learned to respect Malcolm.
Yet now he sat in his quarters with a six-pack of Budweiser, chugging them. Reading the email again and again; wondering if he had entered the Twilight Zone or some mirror universe out of an old Stargate episode.
Malcolm Reed was apparently in love with him - madly, passionately. The things written in the love letter were turning him on, but not for the obvious reasons.
Major Jeremiah Hayes was in love with the quiet and gentle Michael Rostov and what was pushing his buttons was the fantasy that Rostov had written it, that the Ensign had feelings for him, not Malcolm. It wasn't that he found Malcolm unattractive, far from it, but to his heart, Reed was no Rostov.
If it were anyone else, he would have gone to them and set the record straight, but Malcolm Reed was different than others. No, he wasn't afraid of repercussions. Malcolm wouldn't make his life a nightmare if he didn't return the feelings, but still...how do you tell a man who almost never showed any emotions, who has poured his heart and soul out to you, that you don't feel the same way?
Finishing the sixth bottle he banged his head against the desk a few times, hoping for an answer...or a concussion. At least if he caused the latter, he could make believe he never received the email, that it had been a figment of his imagination. Unfortunately, when he raised his head, the email was still right in front of him and he groaned.
What the fuck was he going to do?
~~~~~~~~~~
Jonathan Archer had fallen head over heels in love with Travis Mayweather.
At first he chastised himself, thinking he was going through some type of midlife crisis. The Ensign was almost half his age, with an innocence that the Captain himself hadn't had in many years. But over time he'd grown accustomed to Travis' laugh, his good nature, his ability to see the good in anyone. Travis still grew as excited as a child at Christmas when they encountered a new race, always begging to be included in the first contact missions. After all, having grown up in space, he had been experiencing first contacts since he could remember and they were some of his fondest memories.
Jon had been hesitant to reveal his feelings to the younger man, worried about rejection. Yes, he had experienced that first hand more times than he could remember, and yet with Travis he didn't expect it.
He had Chef prepare a tasty meal including what Jon considered a romantic dessert. He had procured candles and a lace tablecloth from a planet they had recently visited. He carefully chose what his father had referred to as a "chick-flick" for them to watch; the movie Henry Archer had taken Jon's mother to see on their first date. He even managed to obtain silk sheets at an insanely high price the last time they'd been on Earth, hoping to make use of them with the Ensign.
Travis and he had eaten dinner, had enjoyed mindless conversation, and Jon got more of an insight into Travis' upbringing. They sat down on his couch to watch the movie and Jon felt his attentions straying from the film a few times to look at Travis, and he could have sworn Travis had been looking at him in the same way.
But now, the day after, he was depressed to find out he had been wrong.
Jon had seen Travis in the mess hall at lunch, but there was no smile. The Ensign had been curt and stood up as he approached, excusing himself. Every time Jon attempted to talk to him on the bridge, Travis answered him not in the usual upbeat way, but flatly, answering any question and remark as it was asked and not elaborating as he usually did.
He had made a mistake of epic proportions - Travis had figured out Jon had deep feelings for him and didn't return them, and now he had ruined the friendship they had built over the years.
Could his life get any worse?
~~~~~~~~~~
Trip couldn't figure out why Malcolm had sent him that email and he was fuming.
How dare the Brit tell him that his people in engineering were slow and needed more knowledge! How dare he inform Trip that his 'right hand man' (which would be Rostov) was out of shape! And speaking of being in shape, how the hell did Malcolm Reed get the balls to tell Trip Tucker, his commanding officer, that Trip needed to lose some weight, that he had put on more than a few pounds since their last trip to Earth?! Yes, Trip's Mama had made him six meals a day, proclaiming him "too skinny," but he had worked it off.
Oh yeah, Charles Tucker the Third, Commander, had more than a few things to say to Malcolm Reed.
He'd been preparing himself to admit to Malcolm that he wasn't into men, had never been in a relationship with one, but had somehow fallen in love with Malcolm; that Malcolm meant more to him than anyone, that he wanted to marry Malcolm, spend the rest of their lives together, and since there was no way for them to have children of their own, he wanted to adopt a few with him.
Damn the consequences, he was going to live dangerously (and revert to 10 years old) and give the Lieutenant a bloody nose when he saw him next. He commed the armory and was told that Malcolm was on his way to the gym, so that was where Trip headed.
~~~~~~~~~~
Michael Rostov was going a few rounds with the punching bag and poorly at that. He wasn't much of a fighter, but he had thought that if he showed a 'rough and tough' side that Jeremiah Hayes would notice him. When Trip walked into the gym, Rostov turned and smiled, didn't pay attention and got whacked by the punching bag swinging back at him, knocking him off his feet.
"Klutz." Trip laughed to himself and helped the Ensign up. "Didn't we talk about you stayin' away from anything in here but the running mats?"
"I know, sir," Rostov shrugged, "but, well, I, uh, I was hoping it would get me noticed."
Trip's eyes went wide as the conversation he had heard came back to him. "About that...."
"Maybe we could work on some of those wrestling moves I saw you and T'Pol going at last week." It was an innocent remark on Rostov's part; he did want to learn a few of those moves.
"Wrestling moves?" Trip's voice went up an octave. "I'm not much of a wrestler."
"I really want to learn them," Rostov nodded quickly.
"Ya know, Mike, sometimes being noticed is, er, not the, uh...sometimes people won't notice you no matter what you do." Trip chewed on his lower lip, so not wanting to hurt the younger man's feelings.
"Then you think that if I worked out more often, that, well, certain people wouldn't notice?" Rostov looked like a lost puppy, lowering his head. "I was sort of hoping...."
"Yeah, I know you were, I heard ya talkin' to Cutler."
"But how else do I get Major Hayes to notice me? It's not like he's going to notice me hiding in a Jeffries tube and fixing a conduit."
"Hayes," Trip murmured to himself and then looked into Rostov's eyes. "Hayes?"
"It's stupid, I know, him being a MACO and all...."
"NO!" Trip grinned. "It's not stupid at all. In fact, I'll...I can mention you to him...subtly of course."
"You'd do that for me, sir?"
"Yeah, of course I would; that's what friends do for one another. And I been tellin' you for years now, when we're off duty, we're just plain ole Trip and Mike, no sir allowed."
"Yes sir...Commander...Trip. I'm going to shower now."
"Without me, thank God," Trip mumbled under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothin', Mike, you go off and enjoy the shower. In fact," Trip followed him, "I'll even key in my override code to get you an extra 10 minutes of hot water, 'cause you deserve it." When Trip came out, he saw Malcolm picking up boxing gloves and his anger returned. He stalked over and threw a punch.
Only Malcolm's quick reflexes helped in avoiding the fist and he ducked and avoided a second punch. He grabbed Trip and got him in a wrestling hold. "ARE YOU INSANE?!" Malcolm was keeping him still. "WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?!"
"ME INSANE?!" Trip glared at him. "What the fuck was that email all about?! You got a lot of nerve saying stuff like that!"
"You...you...." Malcolm was stammering. "You're upset about it?"
"Oh hell yeah!" Trip was trying to get loose and failing. "Out of anything you could have written, why that? You really know how to ruin things, don't ya, Reed?"
"I can't believe...." Malcolm let him go suddenly, got to his feet and staggered backwards. "This is how you react? Does our friendship mean nothing to you? You could have at least shown a bit of decorum and let me down easy." He walked towards the door, his entire body shaking.
"Let you down easy?" Trip tried to figure out what was going on; it occurred to him that perhaps the two were not on the same page.
"If it's any consolation, although that's doubtful," Malcolm said, "I would still die for you."
"You would still...." Now Trip was sure they weren't on the same page; hell, they weren't even reading the same book. "Malcolm, how did you expect me to react? You called me fat."
Malcolm turned to face him. "I never called you fat!"
"Yeah, you did. Well, maybe not those exact words, but you wrote that I should lose weight, that I put too much on when we were home." Trip inhaled sharply. "And why'd ya pick on Rostov? He's in great shape. And there ain't nothin' wrong with my staff - if they weren't intelligent, they wouldn't be here."
Malcolm blinked a few times, thinking about something, and his entire face paled as if he were going into shock. "Trip, what exactly did I write in that email?"
"You don't know?" Trip laughed in spite of the situation.
"Let's assume I don't. Can you show me the email you received?"
Trip got to his feet. "I think you're nuttier than a fruitcake and I gotta be the same, 'cause I'm gonna show you." Five minutes later they were in Trip's quarters. "There." He opened the email. "You don't remember writing that?"
Malcolm read the email, turned slightly green and began to sway.
Trip quickly moved the chair so that when Malcolm fell off his feet he didn't hit the floor. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Oh God, Hayes...he received...I sent...." Malcolm actually whimpered. "I sent it to Hayes."
"If ya sent me this, and I'm your supposed best friend, I'm afraid to ask what you sent to the Major; terrified actually."
Malcolm pulled himself together, or at least he tried to. "I think I shall go and throw myself out of the nearest airlock."
"What. Did. You. Send. To. Hayes?" Trip enunciated each word separately, hoping for an answer.
"A love letter," Malcolm squeaked. "I poured out my heart and soul to him."
Trip was incredulous. "You're in love with Hayes?"
"I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU!" Malcolm shouted, sounding more like himself.
A grin slowly formed on Trip's face. "You're in love with me?"
"I didn't want you to find out like this. I wrote you a letter; I wanted you to know how I felt." Malcolm frowned. "And you don't feel the same so I shall now prepare to do myself in."
"Now that's a sane response." Trip turned Malcolm to the computer. "How 'bout you be a nice little Malcolm, access your email and show me what you sent to Hayes."
Malcolm silently nodded and once he'd found it, he showed it to Trip.
Trip began to read the email meant for him. "I think some of our disagreements would put Klingons to shame."
"Perhaps."
"I make you sigh?"
"Very much so."
"Kiss me, crush my lips to yours, taste me...oh shit...caress, writhe, beg and scream your name?" Trip's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Bodies entwined...."
"Yes," Malcolm huffed. "And would you please shut the hell up about it and stop making fun of me?"
"I'm not makin' fun of you, Mal, I swear." As Trip got towards the end, he felt his face growing hot and knew he was blushing. "I made you a better man and taught you there was more to life than just existence?"
"I am so glad you find this humorous, Commander."
"Uh, Malcolm, if you like, I can cut and paste this and send it back to you without making any changes."
"Huh?"
"And," Trip continued, "if you call me Commander again while we're in my quarters, or yours, we better be playing some kinky sex games. I mean, I'm kinda partial to being called Trip in bed."
"Bed?"
"Yeah, Mal, bed, the place where lovers go to...make love." Trip leaned in and covered Malcolm's lips with his own; the kiss went on and on, the two men tasting each other, moaning into each other's mouths. Trip finally broke the kiss for the simple fact that they both needed to breathe. "Oh man, that was amazing."
"Beyond amazing," Malcolm sighed, leaning in for another. He paused for a moment, thinking. "Trip?"
"Yes, darlin'?" Trip replied, sighing himself.
"What are we going to do about Hayes?"
"Set him up with Rostov," Trip said matter-of-factly.
"Rostov?"
Trip opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. "Malcolm, he's in love with Hayes; at least I think he's in love with Hayes."
"Rostov and Hayes, Hayes and Rostov." Malcolm repeated it a few times - the two of them together just sounded surreal. "I wonder if Hayes likes Rostov?"
"We could find out," Trip suggested. "After, of course, we straighten out this email mess you made."
"There is no way, in this life or the next, that I will ever admit to Hayes that I did this in error." Malcolm shook his head vehemently. "I would never live it down."
"Oh yeah, I forgot that the British are models for efficiency and perfection."
"Damn straight!"
"I got an idea...." Trip began.
"Oh no, I've heard some of your ideas," Malcolm shot back.
"Trust me, would ya, Mal?"
"I've done that before also, and the last time we lost all of our clothing in that casino on Deneb." Malcolm sneered. "You still owe me a pair of black boxers."
"Would ya shut up for a sec?!" Trip was thinking. "Here's what we're gonna do. Now it's not gonna stop total embarrassment, but I think it will, sort of, soften the blow. And after I tell you..." he ghosted his lips over Malcolm's, "...we can practice some more kissing."
~~~~~~~~~~
"Major Hayes, may I see you in my office?"
"Here it comes," Hayes said to himself as he followed Malcolm in, the door closing. "Look, sir, I received your email and flattered as I am...."
"You have no interest in men?"
"No, Lieutenant, not that, I do, but I want...."
Malcolm was all prepared to tease Hayes to no end, to make him squirm, but the saddened look on the MACO's face gave him pause - he couldn't go through with Trip's idea of mental torture, it wasn't fair. But he also couldn't admit to what he had done either. Thinking quick, he said, "The email was sent to you in error because I...I...." This wasn't going well. "I was writing it to you for Rostov." There, that was good. "He...he came to me because he figured that I might...being British and Elizabeth Barrett Browning and...and all that...he thought I would be good at wording a love letter to you." As an afterthought he added, "But don't ever mention it to Rostov. He'd be quite embarrassed, and I will have to kill you...slowly...painfully." He narrowed his eyes. "You do like your spleen where it is, don't you, Major?"
"Yes sir, I love my spleen where it is," Hayes nodded, his face softening. "But why did the email come from you, Malcolm?"
"Don't ask, Jeremiah," Malcolm smiled maliciously, "because if you do, you risk other parts of your body as well."
And so it was that Malcolm Reed did manage to avoid total embarrassment and got to play matchmaker at the same time.
As for Trip, he didn't even bother to ask why Rostov was walking funny the next morning, just giving him a sly grin. But he did wonder why the Captain was walking around with a scowl, barking orders at everyone and writing up half the crew for the most mundane of infractions.
~~~~~~~~~~
"COMMANDER TUCKER!"
Trip actually flinched when the Captain entered engineering and bellowed his name. "Yes sir?"
"Would you care to tell me why half of your staff is playing volleyball on the flight deck instead of doing their jobs?"
"It's engineering versus security," Trip snickered, "and they're all off duty."
"I DON'T CARE!" Jon was grinding his teeth. "The flight deck is not the place for a sporting event."
"Then we'll move it to the armory - Malcolm doesn't mind and there's plenty of room there." Trip smirked and laughed some more. "My team ain't gonna lose with Finelli wearing that itty-bitty bikini; it's kinda distracting when she's bouncing around in that tiny top."
"That's a sexist remark, Commander," Jon replied, "and I am going to write you up for it."
"Hey! It was Finelli who did it!" Trip fired back. "She had to make the thing herself because she didn't pack a bathing suit when she came aboard and told me it was the first time she's been thrilled to have 42DD's." He pushed the Captain, who stumbled back into a storage area - Trip shut the door behind them. "Okay, you wanna tell me what's going on with you?"
"Shoving a superior officer is an offense, Commander Tucker."
"If I was shoving my Captain, then yeah, I'd agree," Trip told him. "But I didn't shove my Captain; I shoved the nut job known as Johnny Archer. You been takin' stupid pills?"
"I am only doing my duty as Captain of this ship; there's nothing wrong with that."
"No, I agree, but when you write up Porthos for eating the last of the roast beef in the galley and confine him to quarters, then yeah, I'd have to say there's something wrong."
"I didn't...."
"Yeah, you did." Trip pulled up a report on the comm panel. "Read."
Jon read the report a few times, taking it in, not believing what he was reading. "I confined...over roast beef?"
"You haven't been paying attention to what you've been doing, have you?" Trip shook his head in scorn. "You assigned Hoshi to galley duty 'cause she was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, off-duty I might add, and I gotta tell you, Chef ain't happy; Phipps has been confined to the brig for running pools like he always does; Jackson's in the cell next to him for some reason - ya didn't give one and we still can't figure it out; T'Pol's mentioned the word 'mutiny' more than a few times...shall I go on?"
Jon pondered all of that. "I guess that would explain why we've all been eating rice and beans, and why I haven't collected on the water polo match from the other day. And I don't even remember why Jackson was sent there." He paused. "Mutiny?"
"It's either that or toss you out an airlock; she can't decide so she's gonna take a poll."
"Maybe I have been a bit...off...lately," Jon admitted.
"Off? Jon, you are slowly losing it. Care to tell me why?"
Jon leaned against the wall, sighing loudly. "Travis doesn't like me anymore."
"You sound like a lovesick teenager, Jon. And Travis worships the ground you walk on." Trip stated it as fact. "You got the hots for him?"
"You have no idea."
"Yeah, I think I do." Trip smiled shyly. "Me and Malcolm...."
"You and Malcolm?" Jon looked a bit surprised. "I know you're not into men, so can I assume it's the real thing between the two of you?"
"As real as it gets." Trip scrunched up his face, thinking hard. "Maybe...I got an idea."
"I've heard some of your ideas, so no thanks," Jon answered.
"Why does everybody keep sayin' that?" Trip asked.
"Because when you have an idea, things happen."
"Aww, don't tell me you're still upset over Mexico." Trip rolled his eyes. "Admiral Forrest thought it was a hoot and a half."
"We spent 10 days in jail in Tijuana!"
"I didn't know that woman was the Governor's daughter!"
"Yeah, yeah," Jon cracked, "you were a perfect gentleman, I know."
"Not that night, Jon," Trip smirked. "If the Governor knew what really happened, I'd be a eunuch."
"Maybe I should tell Malcolm the story."
"I'll help you get Travis and you keep your trap shut."
"You help me get Travis, I give you a day off...with pay."
"How about tennis matches in engineering or wet tee-shirt contests in the mess?"
"Don't push it, Commander." John sighed to himself. "I think I owe my dog a very big apology and a few extra cheese chunks."
"And I think Travis needs to go and pick up a few supplies from the storage bays," Trip grinned.
~~~~~~~~~~
Trip glanced up as Malcolm entered his quarters with widened eyes and went straight for the closet...and the bottle of hooch Trip had stashed in there. "I so need the rotgut."
"What's the matter, Malcolm?"
"I went to storage area 17 to get a case of power cells and...oh Christ, Trip, right now I need to bleach my brain." Malcolm swigged straight from the bottle, choking on the drink. "Captain Archer and Ensign Mayweather were...besides the fact that no human being should be able to get into that position...hearing what I heard...it just isn't natural for young Travis to use that type of language."
"And....?" Trip prompted, knowing there was more.
"The Captain most casually told me to leave and lock the door behind myself."
"Did you?" Trip chuckled.
"Yes," Malcolm allowed himself a small smile, "and I stationed Corporal Ames outside the door and told him to shoot anyone who tried to enter." He took another swallow. "Remind me to thank your Granddad for providing this."
"If ya think that's good," Trip grinned, taking the bottle and a gulp himself, "I'll tell my Mama to provide you with some of hers." At Malcolm's raised eyebrows he nodded. "I helped her build a still when I was about 12." He closed the bottle and pulled Malcolm into an embrace. "Let's take a shower - you smell terrible."
"You're such a romantic, Trip."
"Yeah, I know."
~~~~~~~~~~
A week later Trip and Malcolm were lying in each other's arms in their boxers, sharing lazy kisses, light caresses to each other's bodies. In the time they had been together they had discovered a few hot spots, (Trip liked having his ear nibbled on, a touch to Malcolm's nipples made him moan) but hadn't gone any further than the "making out" stage. Even in the shower they only shared brief touches as they washed; both were hesitant to do anything else. They hadn't even broached the subject of sex and Malcolm finally spoke up, figuring one of them had to.
"Trip, I want...it's been a week and I...." Malcolm ducked his head, unable to get the words out.
Trip understood and raised Malcolm's lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss. "I do too, Mal, and I think we're gonna make fireworks together." He grinned. "I can't wait for you to teach me what you know."
"I'd like to, Trip, I really would," Malcolm swallowed hard, "but I don't know what to do myself."
"So we're two men who are in love with each other, who want to make love with each other, and we don't have a clue as to how to go about it?" Trip had to think about what he'd just said. "But we're two intelligent men who can get all the information we need to figure it out." He pointed to the computer. "Before we left Earth, I swiped the entire Google database and uploaded it to the mainframe."
"Yes, well, interesting as that may be," Malcolm gave him a wry grin, "Thomason has a copy of the Gay Kama Sutra which might be easier and more enlightening."
"And how do you know that?" Trip growled.
"Jealous much?" Malcolm teased. "Oh, calm down, Trip. The man and I play chess on a regular basis and have been in each other's quarters. He knows what's on my bookshelf and I know what's on his."
"I don't need no book; like I said, I think we can figure it out."
"It's 'I don't need any book,' you cretin, and if that's the case, then we need to do a bit of research." As Trip made a move to get up, Malcolm pushed him back down. "I have a portable, so the desk is unnecessary."
"It's called a laptop, Malcolm."
"Whatever."
The two lay there, getting some information, two mouths agape as they read.
"We need lube," Trip pointed out. "You got any kind of lotion?"
Malcolm had read ahead. "That won't work. According to this, it has to be proper lubricant or we risk a lot of pain."
"I don't wanna sound ignorant, but what's proper lubricant?" Trip asked. "And where do we get some?"
"I'll be back in a moment." Malcolm threw on his jeans and a tee. "Don't go anywhere."
"You're not goin' to Thomason...or Hayes or Jon, are you?"
"No." Malcolm ran out the door and left to his own devices, Trip read further and got more information.
When Malcolm returned 15 minutes later, he was waving a tube about. "There, proper lubricant. It's called," he read the label, "Astroglide and will do just fine."
"Where'd you get it?"
Malcolm sat down. "Phlox."
"You went to Phlox?" Trip looked a bit panicked. "Now everybody's gonna know that we...."
Malcolm stared at the floor. "He won't say anything, doctor/patient privilege and all that, and...Trip, are you ashamed of what we've found together?"
"What?" Trip considered his words. "No! Of course not, Malcolm. I just don't want everybody knowing our business is all."
"Are you sure?"
Trip sat up and wrapped his arms around Malcolm, kissing his neck. "Yeah, I am."
"Because I can keep us a secret." Malcolm still wouldn't look at him. "Nobody has to know."
"Maybe if I...." Trip started, taking a deep breath.
"Maybe if you what?" Malcolm prompted.
"Maybe if I told you I love you, that you mean more to me than anyone, maybe that would help."
"That's a lot of maybe's."
"Yeah, I agree." Trip lifted Malcolm's face to his. "I haven't said the words directly, so...I love you, Malcolm Reed. You mean more to me than anyone; I wanna marry you, spend the rest of my life with you, and have kids with you."
Malcolm laughed a bit. "Trip, the last is going to be a bit difficult as we are both men."
"I kinda noticed that and we'll adopt," Trip said matter-of-factly. "And you gotta say it too."
"I love you, Trip Tucker. You mean more to me than anyone, I want to marry you, spend the rest of my life with you and have children with you."
"There, that wasn't so hard." Trip kissed him again. "From what you wrote, I guess I get to bottom first."
"I changed my mind," Malcolm replied firmly.
"All right, but only because you got the lube." Trip read the instructions on the tube. "It says to rub it between your fingers to warm it, and then...."
"You need to read the label to use it?" Malcolm fought a smile. "It's not exactly rocket science."
"What if I use it wrong?"
"It's lubricant; even you can't screw that up."
"Are you implyin' I'm dumb?"
"If the boot fits...."
"Just for that, I should make you top first." Trip tried to remain stern, but then Malcolm pouted. "Stop that, ya look like a sick puppy." He looked Malcolm over. "And I think we should both be naked."
"Yes, that would help." Malcolm smirked. "I take back what I said about your brains, or lack thereof."
"Keep it up, Mal," Trip slid his boxers off, "and we'll both be back to sharin' evenings with our respective right hands."
"Oh no!" Malcolm pulled off his shirt. "Anything but that!" He slid his pants and boxers off and lay down. "I love you."
"So you say."
Malcolm pulled Trip atop his body. "Kiss me again?"
"Geez, Mal, I could do that all damn day." Trip was more than happy to kiss him; Malcolm's lips were a weapon unto themselves.
When they came up for air, Malcolm pulled Trip's ear to his lips. "I want you to touch me everywhere, make me moan, make me scream." He tongued the lobe, hot breath blowing inside. "I want your cock inside my arse, hard and deep."
"It's ass, not arse, you twit."
Malcolm ignored him. "I want to beg you to fill me with your hot come."
"You keep that up and this is gonna be over before it starts." Trip was half-hard already. "Where'd you get such a filthy mouth?"
"I'm yours; do with me as you please." Malcolm kissed him one last time and began to push Trip down his body. "Put that mouth of yours to work doing something other than speaking."
"Yes sir." Trip kissed Malcolm's left shoulder, across his neck, licking at the pulse point and across to the right. He nipped at the clavicle and licked the right nipple. Hearing a soft sigh he kissed his way to the left, sucking hard and biting.
"I love it when you bite me there." Malcolm arched his hips up as Trip continued to chew on his nipples, making them red and raw. "Such sweet pain."
"I always knew you had a masochistic streak." Trip kissed his way down Malcolm's stomach, tongue dipping into his navel, hearing Malcolm giggle. "I never heard ya giggle before."
"The British do not giggle," Malcolm stated.
"Of course not, my mistake," Trip agreed as he kissed further down. He couldn't believe what he was about to do. He palmed Malcolm's dick and licked the length, listening to the moans - it took a moment to realize he was the one doing the moaning. Trip felt the fingers in his hair, pulling his head up a bit, his mouth level with the tip. He licked around the head, the pre-come exploding on his tongue, licking his lips, tasting pure Malcolm. He sucked gently, getting used to it, slowly sliding his lips over the thick length. He drew it into his mouth, his head bobbing up and down, taking as much as he could. Trip got about halfway before it became too much and he raised his head. "That's the best I can do."
"For now." Malcolm leered. "We'll practice."
"Oh yeah; practice makes perfect." Trip rolled Malcolm onto his stomach and lay atop him, kissing the back of Malcolm's neck, down his spine. He bit gently on the left hip and Malcolm shuddered. 'I found another hot spot,' Trip thought and smiled to himself, then proceeded to do the same to the right. He placed a kiss and a bite to each of Malcolm's ass cheeks before kissing his way down the right leg and licking his way up the left. When he reached that taut ass again, he made use of something he had read - spreading Malcolm's cheeks he swiped his tongue between them.
"Trip, what are you doing?"
"You don't like it?"
"I don't know, nobody ever...oh God!"
"You do like it, Mal."
Malcolm was writhing under his touches, his breaths short and panted. "Need you...need you inside me."
Trip raised his head, "I'm gettin' there," and returned to lapping at the crack. 'Thank you, Google,' he thought, tightening his tongue and pressing it inside.
"Stop teasing me...."
"All right already," Trip snickered. "So much for patience."
"I am out of patience; I need you to fuck me!"
Trip's cock grew painfully hard at those words. He flipped the cap on the tube and squeezed some onto his fingers, teasing Malcolm's hole with it.
"I swear, if you're taking the time to read the instructions...." Malcolm was moaning again as one finger entered. "That's good, very good."
Trip added a second, pushing them in and out.
"More, Trip, need more."
More lube and Trip managed to get three inside, feeling Malcolm clenching them tight. Malcolm was begging for him and Trip slid his fingers out, slicking his cock. He wiped his hands on the sheet and spread Malcolm wide, pressing the head inside. He heard Malcolm grunt and stilled. "Mal, am I hurtin' you?"
"A bit, but nothing bad, I assure you." Malcolm inhaled and exhaled, and forced his body to relax. "Just keep going; I'll let you know if it becomes too much."
"Promise me you'll say something if it does," Trip insisted, knowing his lover all too well. Malcolm would keep his mouth shut if he thought Trip was enjoying himself. "Promise me, Malcolm, or we stop right now."
"Trip...."
"Malcolm, if I hurt you, I couldn't deal with it, so please, just promise me."
"I promise; you have my word."
Trip slid further in, watching his cock disappear into the tight hole - Malcolm was gripping him like a vise.
"Tell me how it feels; tell me how I feel around your cock."
"You're tight, and hot, and it feels so damn good." Trip finally found himself buried within Malcolm's ass and he rolled his hips, pulling out part way and moving back inside.
Malcolm's breath caught in his throat and Trip noticed.
"That must have been your prostate," Trip stated. "I read that it's a pleasurable spot for men."
"I don't care!" Malcolm shouted. "Just do it again!"
"I'll try."
"Don't try; do!"
Trip picked up the pace, losing himself in the heat, and judging from the moans, he was hitting Malcolm's prostate again and again.
Malcolm was rubbing his dick against the mattress, in desperate need of friction. "Trip, please...." He tried to shift to his knees. "I need you to touch me."
Trip gripped him by the hips and helped him move, hearing a slight groan. "You okay, darlin'? Please tell me it doesn't hurt."
"Trip, touch me...please, touch me."
Trip licked his palm and wrapped it around Malcolm's dick, jerking him hard, matching the rhythm of their bodies. He leaned down, biting Malcolm's ear. "Mine," he moaned, "my Malcolm."
"God yes, all yours, nobody else's, ever."
Trip pounded inside, "FUCK YEAH!" and filled Malcolm with his come.
"TRIP!" Malcolm came hard all over Trip's hand, soaking the sheets, the two collapsing on the bed. His breathing was labored; he was shuddering in Trip's arms.
"Shh, s'okay Mal, I've got ya." Trip kissed the top of his head, rubbing his back and holding him until the shaking stopped and Malcolm calmed. "You sure you're okay?"
"I love you so much." Malcolm reached his arm back, turned his head and buried his tongue in Trip's mouth. "We're sticky."
"And you call me a romantic?" Trip slowly pulled out, feeling bereft as the cool air hit his bare cock. "I'll get us a cloth, you change the sheets." By the time he came out, Malcolm was finished. He wiped Malcolm with the warm cloth, the two lying down, Trip's head resting on Malcolm's chest.
Malcolm stroked the blond hair, tilting Trip's face to his, his mouth a loving smile.
"My own Beloved, who hast lifted me
From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown,
And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown
A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully
Shines out again, as all the angels see...."
Trip flushed a slight shade of pink and finished the stanza.
"Before thy saving kiss! My own, my own,
Who camest to me when the world was gone,
And I who looked for only God, found thee!
I find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad."
At Malcolm's open mouth, Trip laughed again. "Yes, Malcolm, even American's know Browning."
"And here I thought you were a Yankee heathen."
"Hey!" Trip looked affronted. "Don't be insultin' me; ah ain't no Yankee!"
"You're all Yanks to me," Malcolm retorted.
"Mal?"
"Yes, love?"
"We picked the perfect day to, um, consummate our relationship."
"I'm impressed that you know words with more than two syllables," Malcolm teased, "and why?"
"You're lucky I love you." Trip couldn't resist another kiss. "Today's February 14th."
"I am well aware of that and you're right, today is the perfect day." Malcolm smirked. "Oh, and by the way, Trip...." He paused for effect.
"Yes, darlin'?"
"I hate being called Mal."
"I know."
"Just checking."
FIN