Category: Slash

Summary: Archer finds a way to deal with his own bout of insomnia.

Comments: This came to me when I was feeling a little randy and considering
(academically, of course) Archer's rather attractive body. Believe it or not, I'm
practicing writing sex/love scenes with variable levels of explicitness. This is
rather high on the scale





  Damn it, it was impossible to sleep. Just one night would have been nice, a
full, relaxed, hit the pillow and out like light night of sleep would have done
wonders for Jon's wellbeing. But there he lay, the lights dimmed, his eyes wide
open staring at the ceiling. Half the problem was his inexplicable arousal, his
cock hard for no particular reason, straining against the smooth fabric of his
briefs. He was hot too, like the air system was set to high, only he'd already
checked it. Turns out it was just him. He rolled over, pushing the sheets off his
body, exposing his bare back and legs to the air. It was better. His hips ground
against the mattress with a will of their own, but he stopped himself. Wasn't he
supposed to be over these adolescent antics, after all he was in his mid-forties.
Not that he really wanted his sex drive to diminish, but he really didn't feel like
pumping his cock with his hand, just hoping to work up enough friction to
orgasm. If there had been someone available to mess around with it might have
been worth staying up late, but he was alone, as usual. Besides, out here in the
Expanse there were only aliens and crew-members who were off-limits; what he
wanted was an unattached, attractive, woman who might understand the need
he had for physical contact. A woman from Earth, really.

  He thrust again, then sighed, rolling over, his sex harder now, tenting his
briefs. He gazed at it, amused, spreading his legs.

  "We've had some good times," he addressed it absurdly, "just not now. What
we really need is sleep." His erection seemed to ignore him. If he was going to
get any sleep tonight, he'd have to do something about it, but he needed a
fantasy to excite him, something that would help him get there faster, make him
come quickly. Unfortunately he seemed to have exhausted his personal little
fantasies, and he really was not in the mood to access one of the more erotic
movies in the database.

  Fuck it, he thought, wriggling out of his briefs, he might as well be naked, his
cock free and jutting out from his thighs. He lay back, contemplating it, its
length and shape rising from the dark hair of his groin. He rain his hand through
the hair, enjoying the soft tickling sensation, his other hand drifting through his
chest hair. He wondered what women really thought of his body, if they enjoyed
as much as they had seemed to.

  He rolled over, pressing his hips against the bed, sighing, his back exposed to
the cooler air of the cabin. He could see himself in the mirror across the room,
admiring the smooth shape of his back and curve of his buttocks. He wasn't
unattractive, he decided, there were plenty of parts of himself he enjoyed
touching, his hands drifting over his ass, so others must surely enjoy it too.

  His hands flopped down in defeat, his cock still throbbing, but he felt a little
lonely all of a sudden. He thought of Trip, and the likelihood that the man
could or was getting laid, though whether it was with T'Pol or Malcolm he
hadn't figured out. T'Pol was the likely choice, being a woman and Jon knew
how Trip enjoyed women. In fact there'd been a wild academy party years ago
where Jon had inadvertently watched Trip enjoying a woman. But Jon knew that
something had happened with Malcolm, something significant and life altering,
and there had always been a vaguely sexual chemistry in the way the two didn't
get along. Suddenly he wondered how the man would behave with either of the
two possibilities. How would he kiss them?

  Jon thought of Trip's face, his expressive mouth, the way he set his jaw in a
way that meant so many things, each of them charming. He could understand
why women found him so attractive. He thought about how Trip would kiss, his
lips parted, his tongue gentle, searching. Jon's erection leaped, and he thrust his
hips unconsciously in response. Well, it seemed he had a fantasy to work with,
if only for that night. It wouldn't do them any harm anyway.

  He rolled over, searching through his bedside drawer for the soft gel he used
to moisturize his hands, and well...whatever else needed it. Drawing some of
the cool liquid into his hand, he circled his sex with it, the coolness a shock, but
the soft slip of his skin over the hard flesh immediately pleasurable. His spread
his legs wide, his other hand stroking his chest, his nipples, imagening it was
somebody else's: Trip's, T'Pol's, Malcolm's.

  The image he remembered of Tucker's naked body with the attractive female
cadet years ago was a great place to start, the man's muscles rippling from his
deep thrusts, her hands in his hair, the groans escaping his gritted teeth. He
remembered seeing him come, his shout, his arched back, pushed up on the full
length of his arms, his buttocks flexing as he took his final thrusts. Jon's hand
slid around his cock, taking its first full stroke, imagining what Trip had felt
around his own in the moment. Jon tensed his eyes shut at the pleasure.

  He saw Trip kissing a naked T'Pol, her tan skin flush against the man, the
curve of her breast firm and mysterious. Banishing Tucker for the moment, he
found himself above her, his sex hard and sliding between her full breasts, their
nipples dark and hard, her eyes on his. His hand reached down to cup his balls,
pulling them down, away from his cock as he stroked it, as gasp escaping him.
His movements were still slow, but he felt the inevitability, his orgasm not far at
all, the tension rising.

  He saw Malcolm naked, smooth and muscular, his sex hard, standing above
Trip who was on all fours. Was this how Reed took him? Reed pressed his sex
into Trip, slowly but without mercy, Trip's eyes screwed shut in pleasure or pain
or both. Jon released his sex, rising onto his knees and sitting on his haunches,
his legs spread. Seizing his cock again in his wet hand, he saw Malcolm
thrusting into the blond man, Trip's face buried into a mound of pillows. Jon
slid his free hand back, over his buttocks and between his legs, his finger teasing
the surface of his asshole, his muscles tensing out of pleasure. Curious, he
spread the slick gel over his fingers, then began to press his index finger in.
There was resistance, and a strange pressure, but then it was inside, and his
cock strained in his hand. In his mind Malcolm continued to fuck Trip, but then
it wasn't Trip anymore, but Jon, Malcolm riding him, his finger the imaginary
phallus taking him. Then his own cock was buried in Trip's warm ass, sliding
easily into his tight heat. He could hear the man's groans as heard them years
before, his hand flying over his erect cock, coaxing it further, higher, the heat
nearly unbearable.

  And T'Pol was there, naked and glorious, her legs spread for him. His mouth
descended on her sex, the soft flesh opening to his tongue, the musky taste of
her sending wild fire through him, the pressure of Trip's ass working his cock,
Malcolm's thrusting pushing him to his limits, and held out against it, for one
stroke, then another, and another until he couldn't hold it, and the wave of
ecstacy crashed over him, his hand pumping as he shot streams of hot fluid
across his sheets, dripping down his hands, his head thrown back, a cry issuing
from deep within as he came and came and came.

  When he finally opened his eyes again, he found Porthos gazing up at him
from his small couch with mild curiosity, and Jon was suddenly embarrassed. He
thought about showering, but was exhausted and just wanted to lie down, so he
did his best to clean up, hoping the stewards wouldn't see the stains on his
sheets when they cleaned his room. As he pulled on his briefs and settled into
bed, he saw Porthos still gazing at him.

  "Your lips had better be sealed," Jon said warningly, "there's no need for them
to know, it'll be our little secret." Sleep took him when he closed his eyes.