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Bedtime Stories ***** "I told you not to let him take the dog." "Come on, Malcolm," said Trip. "You can't blame Porthos. He was just doing what dogs do." "I don't blame Porthos." The implication was clear. "You're not blaming me for this, are you?" Malcolm sighed heavily. "No, of course not." He was more irked than angry. He couldn't argue that the mission to the Kreetassans' homeworld had ended with all parties happily in possession of what they wanted most—for Enterprise, a plasma injector; for the Kreetassans, a formal act of contrition from Captain Archer—but if Trip had listened to him in the beginning, and if Archer had listened to Trip… He shook his head—something that had become much easier with the removal of the bandages that had swathed his nose for the past 72 hours. Too many ifs, he thought. If I'd been on duty, if anyone had listened to common sense, if the Kreetassans had bothered to check the genomes of all of the landing party members… "It was just a lot of unfortunate choices and circumstances colliding rather unpleasantly," the armory officer said at last. There was no point in stewing over it now…despite the fact he felt sure he could have done something to prevent it if he'd been on duty. "You couldn't've changed the Captain's mind, you know," Trip said. "I couldn't. T'Pol sure as hell couldn't. Even Ensign Cormack gave it a try." He begrudgingly had to admit she'd worked hard as the interim Armory Officer while Malcolm was on enforced medical leave. "I know, I know. I simply can't help feeling there must have been something—" "Stop beating yourself up over it, Malcolm," the engineer advised. "Porthos is fine. The plasma injector is fine. Even Starfleet's relationship with the Kreetassans is fine. Let it go." He rose from his seat on his bunk and approached Malcolm, who still stood in the middle of the cabin where he'd stopped upon entering. "Was there something else you wanted to talk about?" he asked suggestively, running a finger down Malcolm's arm. "No." He knew what Trip was trying to do but wasn't yet inclined to play along. He felt like being contradictory for the moment. "Come on. You didn't just stop by to chew me out, did you?" "I might have," disputed Malcolm. "But you didn't." "We could have blown that whole away mission," Malcolm continued to argue, although his heart was no longer entirely in the fight. "You're right. We could have." Trip's mind wasn't on his words. He placed a gentle hand on Malcolm's cheek, ran one thumb tenderly over his cheekbone. "Perfect. Just like the doc promised," he said, pleased. "Hardly perfect. I still have two black eyes and I can only just breathe through my nose," protested Malcolm. "You'll be all better in a few more days." "A few more days. I've already spent more than half the month injured in some way." "Oh," cooed Trip, lightly teasing. "Poor baby." He adopted a pouty look. "Malcolm doesn't like being sick. It makes him grumpy." "Very funny," sniped Malcolm. He crossed his arms over his chest, his face an unintentional echo of his lover's expression. Trip laughed. "Maybe I can cheer you up." "I'll be cheered up when I go back on duty tomorrow morning, thank you." "You don't want me to…" The blond man leaned over and whispered into Malcolm's ear. "You kiss your mother with that mouth, do you?" jibed his partner, but he was smiling. Trip's suggestion had intrigued him. "I can do a lot of things with this mouth, as you well know," Trip quipped back. He nipped playfully at Malcolm's earlobe. Malcolm shivered. "Oh really?" he asked, pretending to doubt. "Prove it." "With pleasure." "Mine or yours?" "What do you think?" Trip stepped away suddenly, and Malcolm felt a quick pang at the loss of the close contact. Before he could ask the younger man what he was doing, Trip spoke up. "Just putting a 'Do Not Disturb' order on both our comms. Now the only ones who can interrupt are T'Pol or the Captain—and only if it's an emergency," he quickly added. He returned to his lover and stood very close. "Now, where were we? Oh yeah," he continued, not waiting for, or indeed wanting, an answer. He leaned in and kissed Malcolm gently. Too soon for his own liking, he pulled away. Trip wanted to taste his lover, devour his mouth, but he knew it wasn't advisable at the moment. For one thing, Malcolm had just told him it was difficult for him to breathe. He didn't want the dark-haired man to pass out from lack of oxygen. I wonder if it's possible to pass out from an excess of pleasure? he pondered in passing. Trip took a step back. "Sit down," he said. "On the chair'll do." Malcolm looked at him quizzically but, remembering Trip's whispered words of only moments ago, complied. Trip knelt down in front of him and began to remove his boots. He slid them off, and the lieutenant's socks soon followed. As a teasing nod to his lover's neatnik tendencies, Trip carefully tucked each sock into its boot and set all neatly aside. "Stand up." Malcolm stood. "Why you choose to wear your uniform even off duty is beyond me," Trip said, chiding. He continued to talk quietly as he drew the zipper on Malcolm's blue coveralls down. "You have a nice collection of civvies. I'm particularly partial to those ratty old blue jeans of yours." It had surprised the hell out of Trip to discover his partner owned anything so casual as a pair of threadbare jeans. "They're worn out in just the right places," he added, slipping the coveralls off of Malcolm's shoulders. One at a time, he held out each of Malcolm's arms and pulled the sleeves off of them. Bemused and aroused at the same time, Malcolm allowed his partner complete control of the situation, of his body. He trusted Trip implicitly; and he knew he was in for a treat if he simply let the engineer do what he was doing. Trip knelt again, taking the uniform with him as he slid his hands along Malcolm's muscular back to his buttocks and down his legs. "Out," he ordered. One hand on Trip's strong, steady shoulder for balance, Malcolm stepped out of the garment. He stood waiting for his next instructions. Slowly, almost tauntingly, Trip folded the uniform carefully and placed it on the nearby desk. He took a moment to look at his lover, examining him in his state of partial undress. The black shirt he wore was almost long enough to hide the bulge in his bright blue regulation skivvies. Trip smiled. He stepped close to Malcolm again, gave him another tender kiss as his hands felt for the buttons at the shirt's collar. Breaking the kiss, he undid each button. Here, he hesitated. "I don't want to hurt you," he explained. "Maybe you better take it off yourself." Malcolm nodded and carefully pulled the shirt over his head, avoiding his only recently healed nose. He began to fold the garment, only to have it taken from him. "I'll do that." Trip folded the shirt and set it atop the waiting uniform. He took another moment to appraise his lover. "Mm!" he grunted in appreciation of the sight before him. "How the hell did I ever get so lucky as to find a guy like you?" he asked rhetorically. He ran warm hands down Malcolm's muscular arms, massaging them slightly to keep the blood flowing, although he could clearly see where the shorter man's blood was really rushing. "Don't want you gettin' cold," he explained, pretending not to notice the increasing prominence of his lover's groin. "No danger of that," breathed Malcolm, enjoying his lover's caresses. He let his eyes close momentarily, the better to focus on the feeling of Trip's hands on his skin. When the touch left him suddenly, he opened them again. He saw that Trip had taken a step back and was watching him. "Take off your undershirt," Trip told him. "Yes, sir," quipped Malcolm, a smile quirking his lips. "And none of your lip," ordered Trip, playing along. "No, sir." Malcolm removed his blue undershirt. He hesitated, not sure if he should fold it or wait for the commander to take it from him. "Give it here." That answers that, thought the lieutenant, dutifully handing it over. A quick fold, and it joined the stack on the desk. Now Malcolm stood stock still in the center of the cabin, not quite at attention, but close to it. Trip circled him, appraising what he saw. "Very nice," he murmured. As he passed behind Malcolm for a second time his fingers brushed the armory officer's buttocks. He saw Malcolm start at the unexpected touch, but the lieutenant said nothing, did nothing. "Very nice," Trip reiterated. He stepped in close behind Malcolm, close enough that the dark-haired man could feel Trip's own erection press against him through the fabric of his uniform. He shivered slightly at the tantalizing pressure and the sudden chill of the zipper against his lower back. Another shiver thrilled him as he felt Trip's hot breath on his neck. Kisses warmed his collarbone as the hands suddenly grasping him warmed his shoulders. He let out a shuddering sigh of pleasure. "You like that, do you?" whispered Trip in his ear. Malcolm merely nodded. "Good." Trip slowly moved from Malcolm's back to his front, hands and lips tracing parallel courses around his upper body. "You taste so good," Trip informed him between kisses. His lips found Malcolm's nipple, already hard, and he teased it with his tongue. One hand found the other nipple, and he rolled it between his fingertips just hard enough to illicit a gasp from his lover. "Good, soldier?" he queried, giving Malcolm a sly glance. "Very good, sir," Malcolm replied. Trip smiled, pleased. He was enjoying being in complete control, but this evening was for Malcolm; he wanted everything he did to be for Malcolm's pleasure, first and foremost. He knelt, trailing more kisses across his partner's belly. For his part, Malcolm had no complaints. Here in the safety of Trip's quarters, with no one but his lover as witness, he was happy to give up control—of himself, of the situation, of everything that weighed on his body and soul when he was working. Here he could be Malcolm, strong or vulnerable as the mood dictated. Or in this case, as his clever, skillful lover dictated. He continued to stand still, cherishing every moment of Trip's sensuous ministrations. He couldn't help but start as Trip's fingers brushed his testicles through the thin fabric of his blues. He wanted his lover to take him now, but he knew that wasn't the game this time. So he waited. Trip sat back on his heels, gently caressing his partner's erection through his underpants. Eventually, he lowered his hand and looked up directly into Malcolm's shining blue eyes. "Take them off," he ordered. Malcolm said nothing, but slid his hands into the waistband of his briefs, pulling the elastic out to clear his hot, hard penis. Unable to resist, he stroked himself, taking a brief moment to indulge in the touch of his own hand on his cock. Trip caught the movement and was turned on by the sight of his lover fondling himself, but it wasn't part of his game plan. "None of that, soldier!" he reprimanded, wondering if the touch had been instinctive or intentional, just to see what Trip would do. "Yes, sir," answered Malcolm in a clipped tone. But he allowed a tiny smile to curve the corner of his mouth as he slid his briefs down and stepped out of them. As soon as he was free, they were taken from him as all his other clothes had been before. Rising from the floor, Trip folded the underwear and placed it, too, on the pile. Once more he turned appreciative eyes on his lover, this time drinking in the full grandeur of his naked form—the strong arms, the well-muscled back, the ripped abdomen, the tight ass and powerful thighs, the calves nearly as sculpted as a cyclist's. "You are so sexy," he breathed in admiration. The words, so softly spoken, were nearly enough to make Malcolm come right there and then. He had to willfully repress his excitement. He knew if he didn't, it would ruin the game; and he knew whatever was coming would be worth waiting for. He said simply, "Thank you, sir." Trip smiled at Malcolm's restraint. He, himself, was hot and bothered enough at the mere sight of his aroused and naked lover that he was in danger of soiling his uniform. Trip took a deep breath to bring his own heightened senses under control. This was for Malcolm; there was plenty of time to deal with his own wants and needs once he was certain his partner was satisfied. He moved once more in front of Malcolm. "At ease, Lieutenant." It had the desired effect. "Sir." Malcolm clasped his hands behind his back and spread his legs. It was a textbook example of the at-ease stance, with the slight modification him being completely nude. Trip knelt before Malcolm, examining his hard cock with a critical eye. "Very good, Lieutenant," he said. "Thank you, sir." Trip brushed his thumb over the tip of the cock, picking up the few drops of semen that glistened there. He licked his thumb slowly. "Very good," he repeated. Malcolm stood stock still, but inside he was quivering. He loved it when Trip did that, teased him with his thumb then licked the wetness from it. It was a small gesture, but one that never failed to thrill him. Part of him hoped this would be over soon, that Trip would give him what he most desired, most needed at that moment. Another part of him wanted this moment to last forever. He knew he couldn't have both, but when he felt Trip grasp his tumescent penis in his strong hand he was happy to let forever go and lose himself to the present. Warm breath stirred his pubic hair, and he shivered in reaction. Then there was no more time for thought as Trip took him into his mouth. Hot, wet, slick. Trip swirled his tongue around first the tip of Malcolm's penis then around the shaft, tasting the juice of his partner. He loved how Malcolm tasted. He pulled back a little and descended again, taking more of Malcolm's throbbing erection into his mouth. This time when he pulled back, he gripped the organ between lips backed by teeth. Malcolm shuddered at the increased pressure as he slid out of Trip's oral grasp. He moaned softly, but it was loud enough for his lover to hear. Trip looked up, smiling dangerously, and licked his lips. "You like that, do you, soldier?" was the blond man's quiet challenge. "Yes, sir," answered Malcolm as firmly as he could. It was taking all his effort to remain as he was, standing at ease—Hardly that! his mind argued—eyes forward, simply waiting. "You want more?" "Yes, sir." "Say please." "Please, sir, can I have some more?" Malcolm's eyes drifted down and their gazes locked for a brief moment. Trip saw the arousal, the need, the trust there. "Since you asked so nicely, how could I refuse?" He bent his head and took Malcolm's cock once more into his mouth. Malcolm let his eyes close. He released the death grip with which his hands had held one another, allowed them to rest instead on Trip's shoulders. Trip had one hand on the base of Malcolm's penis, holding it steady as he drew it in and out of his mouth. His other hand held securely onto his lover's hip, as much for his own stability as anything else. Almost immediately, he felt Malcolm begin to move his pelvis in time with the rhythm he'd created. The pressure was intense, extreme. Malcolm couldn't hold back any longer, had no desire to hold back. With one more thrust into Trip's warm, welcoming mouth, he came hard, pulse after pulse of semen shooting from his cock, to be hungrily swallowed down by his beautiful, wonderful lover. Gradually, all motion ceased. Malcolm's hips stopped moving. Even Trip's tongue stilled on the tip of his partner's softening penis. Almost regretfully, the blond man released it from his mouth. Instead of sitting back, though, he leaned in, pressing his hot cheek against Malcolm's belly, feeling it rise and fall as his breathing slowly returned to normal. He could hear his racing heartbeat as it, too, calmed. They remained that way for several minutes, each reveling in the feel of the other, until a shiver from Malcolm roused Trip. "I didn't cause that one," he joked softly. Now he did sit back and look up at his partner's face questioningly. "I'm a little cold," admitted Malcolm. Trip chuckled. "Not surprised." He rose and pulled a blanket from the bunk, wrapping it around Malcolm's naked form. Then he wrapped his arms around them both, holding the shorter man comfortingly. "Better?" he asked. "Much. Thank you. For everything," Malcolm added. "You really are the most amazing lover." Held so closely, Malcolm couldn't see the flush that crept up Trip's cheeks. Instead of answering, he asked, "You ready to get some sleep?" "Not quite." He wiggled out of Trip's grip. The engineer released him, mildly puzzled. "I'd like to return the favor." "Malcolm, you said you can't hardly breathe. I don't think—" Malcolm stopped him with a finger on his lips. "Let hands to what lips do," he said slyly, "if Shakespeare will pardon the paraphrase." Trip laughed. "There's something to be said for that classical European education, ain't there?" he quipped, intentionally thickening his Southern accent. "You have no idea." "I have some idea," countered Trip. He'd made good use of Malcolm's personal library files over the past eight months. "If I'd known how much English Lit had to offer, I might've taken more classes in it, instead of all those extra warp theory lessons." "No, no. I like you just as you are. And you can always catch up on your reading later. Now, however, it's bedtime." Holding the blanket around himself with one hand, he used the other to propel Trip in the direction of the bunk. "Pushy," quipped the engineer, but he didn't resist. He was out of his clothes in record time, leaving them strewn in a heap beside the bed. "Sloppy." "My cabin." Malcolm acceded the argument. "Get in," he said, nodding toward the bunk. "You coming?" "Already did," quipped the Brit with a smirk. "But I'll be right there." Trip climbed into the bunk and held the covers open for his lover. Malcolm shut off the lights and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the starlight coming in through the port before making his way to the bunk. He crawled in next to Trip, reveling in the warmth of his lover's lean, muscular body. They lay side by side, facing one another. "I love your chest hair," Malcolm said, fingers gently playing with the fuzz in question. "That's all well and good," said Trip, "and I appreciate it. But you said something earlier about hands doing what lips do, and unless your hands get to doing, I'm gonna have to take matters into my own hands if I'm gonna get any sleep." "Impatient, too," teased Malcolm, but it wasn't his intention to torment his lover—at least not this time. Instead, his only desire was to return the favor of pleasure the younger man had just given him. "I'm sure I know a bedtime story that will work wonders." "I'd love to hear it." "Close your eyes." Trip closed his eyes. Malcolm began to speak. "Once upon a time, there was a brave and handsome prince." He ran a hand gently through Trip's blond hair, mussing it winningly. "He had blond hair and bright blue eyes." His fingers traced along Trip's forehead and down one cheek. "This prince lived in a gleaming silver castle that flew among the stars." The hand moved tenderly down Trip's neck and once more into the fur of his chest. Trip smiled at the caresses, but kept his eyes shut. "One day, he and the castle's captain of the guard were out in a chariot exploring the kingdom. When they returned to where the castle should have been, they found it was gone." The hand trailed lower and slipped around Trip's back, kneading the tight muscles there. He pulled the engineer closer to him. "The prince and the captain of the guard were very upset. They didn't know what had happened to the castle or the people living there. They were lost and alone. They would never survive." The hand moved lower still, kneading Trip's firm buttocks. "The captain of the guard was very frightened, but he couldn't say that to his prince. He couldn't show him that weakness." Malcolm released his lover and gently pressed him onto his back. Trip didn't resist. "But somehow the prince knew. He, too, had his fears, but he was strong, and he wouldn't give in to them." He took Trip's hard penis in his hand and began massaging it. "He shared that strength with the captain of the guard." He stroked harder and heard a moan of pleasure from the man he loved. "He even tried to sacrifice himself to save the captain of the guard. But the captain of the guard wouldn't allow it." Harder, and a little faster. "He had learned strength from the brave and handsome prince. He had learned the value of life from the prince's willingness to sacrifice his own to save the captain of the guard." Trip moaned again, his hips bucking involuntarily. "When the castle reappeared, they were both overjoyed. They returned again to its safety, and the captain of the guard swore he would never, ever let anything happen to the brave and handsome prince again." Trip climaxed, the semen coming in bursts that trickled warmly over Malcolm's fingers. "He promised to love the prince and keep him safe and happy forever and ever." Malcolm continued to hold his lover lightly until he was sure Trip was asleep. It didn't take long. He smiled at Trip's face, so sweet in repose. Gently, he released his hold on the younger man's now flaccid penis, and reached for a tissue. He quickly wiped his hand clean and then tenderly cleaned up his slumbering partner. He knew it was no fun to wake up cold and sticky. His task done, he snuggled in closely to Trip and kissed his cheek lightly, whispering, "The End." ***** Return to Log Rhythms Season 2 |