Title: Nimrod

Author: Edible Lit

Author's e-mail: [email protected]

Author's URL: www.geocities.com/edibleliterature

Date: 2004/01/28

Archive: Not yet, wait for the complete version

Series/Fandom: ENT (Star Trek Enterprise)

Category: Slash

Rating: R

Status: [WIP]

Pairing: Tucker/Reed


Summary:  Trip discovers a new layer in the mystery of Malcolm Reed.

Prequel to: Need over Necessity

Spoilers: none

Disclaimer: The characters are not owned by me, but by Paramount, or UPN, or
whatever corporation owns the Star Trek universe.  I'm just rearranging them in
some interesting situations.

Author's notes: This is just a little excerpt that I intend to use later.  Just thought
I'd share.


***


“Can you imagine the kind of person he must have been, to have music like that
written about him?” Malcolm asked Trip, moved almost to tears by the majestic
variation as he always was, “He must have been a giant among men.”

Trip gently drew his fingers across Malcolm’s bare arm, the heat of the man in
lying against him a profound comfort as they lay together listening to the
orchestral music.  He loved that Malcolm was so quietly passionate about music;
just like most of the crew, he’d had no idea what the man’s likes or dislikes were,
and, even when telepathically linked, he’d never learned all the specifics of the
man’s interests. But now when presented with something, such as his love for art
music, it made perfect sense, fitting into the picture that Trip had formed of the
man.

The fact that Malcolm wanted to share the “Enigma Variations” written by Edward
Elgar, a British composer in the late 19th century, with Trip made him quietly
happy.  It was a small sign, heartfelt and simple, that underscored Malcolm’s
feelings for him.  The man seemed content to simply lie in Trip’s arms and listen,
and Trip was content to lie and hold him.  And the music was beautiful,
alternatively full of power and tenderness, and some wit; each variation, Malcolm
had explained, had been written for one of the composer’s friends, musically
describing their character.  The one that had moved Malcolm so much, called
the ‘Nimrod Variation’, was so full of majestic character that Trip actually
wondered what the man must have been like.

“That would be an awful lot of pressure,” Trip said softly, “to live up to that kind
of music.”

“I imagine he didn’t have to live up to it,” Malcolm said, “He simply was it.”

Trip grinned, though Malcolm didn’t see it, and kissed the man’s neck, “You wish
you were that person, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you want to be?” he asked earnestly, “that someone so talented would
have so much respect for you?”

“How do you know someone doesn’t feel that way about you,” Trip asked.

Malcolm shifted around to face the engineer, his lips pursed disapprovingly,
“Very smooth, Tucker, do you say that to all the girls?”

Trip grinned, he couldn’t help it, “I didn’t necessarily mean me,” he joked.

Reed faked outrage, pushing Trip away, who struggled to draw him closer,
laughing.  Malcolm moved quickly to deflect his pawing hands, until he resorted
to tickling the armory officer, who reflexively tensed into a fetal position, laughing.

“Stop it…stop it…stop it!” he protested. “We’re supposed to be listening to the
music,” he said, when he was finally released, and he settled back down as
before, Trip pressing up against his back.  In retribution he petulantly batted
Tucker’s arms away twice before allowing himself to be enfolded in the warm
embrace.

The variations became highly energetic and loud, in direct opposition to Trip’s
mood, though he was certain he’d enjoy it if he’d been in a concert hall rather
than naked in bed with a man he’d recently developed a powerful desire for.  He
let his lips brush over Reed’s neck, then caressed the man’s earlobe with his
tongue, pulling it through his teeth gently.

“What? Again?” Malcolm asked, easily catching the motive behind Tucker’s
kisses.

“You don’t want to?” he whispered softly, disappointed.

“Actually, I’ve been wanting to for the past hour,” Malcolm announced, “I’ve just
been waiting for you recuperate.”

Trip exclaimed his outrage, pinning the man, “You are so infuriating.”

Malcolm reached beneath the covers, his hand drifting over Trip’s erection,
“Whatever works,” he said smugly.

“Nimrod.” Trip spat, then preoccupied the man’s mouth with his own.