SETTING: Minor spoilers: "Stigma"; "First Flight" and "The Expanse". Set after the events of "Savior".
FEEDBACK: Always! [email protected] DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the characters. I’m just borrowing them, and promise to return them safe and sound. The only thing I gain from this is some writing practice. SUMMARY: Everything has a price.
Chapter 6
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“No.” Archer shook his head. “I – I don’t think I can do that.” Phlox looked at him curiously. The Captain was looking rather unwell, the doctor noted with surprise. “I never realized you had problems in that area, Captain. After all, you were present when Porthos was ill.” “And didn’t like it one damn bit. But I gritted my teeth and went through with it. I’ve managed to tough it out in those situations. But now? With Trip? Watching as they cut into him?” He sighed. “I admit it, Doc – I’m squeamish. I’m afraid I’d pass out. And that wouldn’t help Trip.” “You will not see the surgery, Captain.” “You want me to be in the operating room with him. How can I not see?” “There will be screen set up over the Commander, obscuring his view of the surgeons while they work.” “But I’ll still see.” “We will place additional screens so that you will not see anything either.” Archer sighed. “And how long do you think this surgery is going to last?” “At least twelve hours.” “Twelve hours?” Archer looked aghast. “How am I supposed to keep him occupied for twelve hours?” “He will sleep some of the time, I’m sure. And you may bring anything with you to help you pass the time. Books, music – “ “- football games?” Phlox beamed at him. “Exactly. And there will be a chair for you so you will be quite comfortable.” “So you say. What about Trip? Are you sure you can’t use a general anesthesia?” “No. He is too weak. I assure you, Captain, he will not be in any discomfort.” “I hope you’re right.” Archer still looked doubtful. “I just don’t know about this.” “I’ll give you a shot,” Phlox said kindly. “To help with the physical reactions. And of course, I will be there, monitoring the Commander’s vital signs.” When Archer still looked doubtful, he added, “Commander Tucker needs you to help him through this. You are the only one who can.” As he intended, that did the trick. He could almost see Archer square his shoulders and take the burden upon himself. The Captain looked at him, face resolute. “Very well, Doctor. You may tell the Vulcans that I agree.”* * *
“You ready?” Trip smiled. “Guess so.” He chuckled and peered up at Archer. “I tell you, I don’t know what the hell Phlox gave me, but I know this much – I am stoned. Feel like I could fly over there.” “You just settle for a stretcher. You hear me?” Trip grinned. “Yes, boss.” That grin faded as he was lifted onto a stretcher. Even though Phlox’s assistants were careful when handling him, he nevertheless closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep from crying out. “I’m sorry,” Archer said gently. “Not your fault,” Trip gasped. He relaxed very slightly as a blanket was laid over him and straps were buckled around him. Archer walked alongside him as he was wheeled out of Sickbay and down the corridor to the access hatch. Trip looked over, saw that the Captain was carrying a suitcase. “What’s that?” “It’s called a suitcase.” “No kidding, smart ass. Why are you carrying a suitcase?” “There are some things that I’ll need while we’re over there.” “’We’?” “Think I’d leave over there alone with a shipful of Vulcans?" “Thanks, Jon.” “Don’t thank me. It’s not you I’m worried about. I’m afraid that if there’s no one around to make you behave, you’ll manage to set back Vulcan-Human relations by at least 50 years - all by yourself.” “Bastard.” “Brat.” They came to the access hatch, and despite Phlox’s drugs, Trip looked about with avid curiosity as he was wheeled through it and along the temporary corridor. “You’d never know this was just some cloth pulled over some struts, would you?” “No,” Archer agreed, “You wouldn’t.” Trip continued to stare, wide-eyed, as he was wheeled through the Vulcan ship. Archer knew that look; if Trip were not strapped down, he would have stopped a half-a-dozen times already to examine something. A faint dew of perspiration appeared on his forehead, and he shifted slightly on the stretcher. “Is it just me, or is it hot over here?” “It’s not you. It’s hot,” Archer told him. “But don’t worry. Your room is going to be kept nice and cool. And the operating room, too.” “Good. You know how the heat – “ “ – Sucks the life right out of you,” Archer finished for him. “I know. Believe me, brat, I know.” After Trip had nearly died of heatstroke, he would be hard-pressed to ever forget. “We’ll keep you cool, okay?” “Okay.”* * *
Archer looked up from his reading as Trip was wheeled into their room. For some unfathomable reason, he had not been permitted to remain with the engineer while the Vulcans ran their tests. He had no idea why. “Only God and the Vulcans do,” he had told Trip, “and neither of them are talking.” The two Vulcans who had wheeled Trip in lifted him easily and laid him quickly on one of the two beds, hung his IV and then discreetly withdrew. Archer rose from his chair, walked over to Trip’s bedside. The younger man was pale and tired, but managed a smile. “Long day,” he murmured. “I’ll bet,” Archer said sympathetically. He stroked Trip’s forehead. “Ready for bed, I would imagine.” Trip nodded, and shifted slightly on the mattress. Archer kissed his forehead. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. He went into the bathroom, and emerged moments later clad in pajamas. Trip watched as the Captain pushed his bed over to Trip’s. He heard a click, and realized that the two beds were now locked together. “Neat trick,” he murmured as Archer climbed into bed beside him. “It is,” his lover agreed, then pulled the blankets up over both of them. He carefully slipped his arm under Trip’s shoulders and, mindful of Trip’s injuries, gently pulled him close. Trip sighed, laid his head on Archer’s shoulder. Archer stroked his hair. “You know,” he said conversationally, “I’ve learned something over the last few days.” “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” “Even though you’re a blanket thief, and you snore –“ “ – I am not, and I do not.” “Says you. But even though you steal the blankets and snore like a congested buffalo – I’ve found that I don’t like to sleep alone. Guess I’ve missed you, brat.” “Missed you too. Even if you are a lying bastard.” “Noted.” They lay quietly for a moment. Then Trip moved very slightly. “These beds are comfortable. A lot more than the ones we’ve got in Sickbay.” “They are, aren’t they? Phlox has been casting longing glances at them, I can tell you that.” “Maybe we can get the Vulcans to give us some.” “We’ve already given them all the dilithium that they need.” Trip thought for a moment. “What about those bajet seedlings we brought back from Argada? The ones with that funny knobby yellow fruit? Chef’s always bitching about the amount of room they take up. And T’Pol’s the only one who likes the fruit. Leave one tree for T’Pol, and trade the rest to the Vulcans for whatever Phlox wants. I’ll bet the Vulcans on this ship will be as crazy about the fruit as T’Pol is. And it’ll make Chef happy, too.” Archer smiled and kissed him. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?” “If I’m so smart, how’d I end up in this mess?” He smiled at Archer. “Just make sure you don’t trade that other fruit we brought back.” “You mean those berries?” “The ones we have in our freezer. Right.” Archer laughed. “Can you imagine what would happen if the Vulcans got hold of those?” “The mind boggles,” Trip said gravely. "Land ho!" Trip shouted. He was standing on the roof of the yacht, shading his eyes as he played look-out. The prow of the ship hit a wave, and the resulting shower drenched the engineer. Trip threw his head back and laughed. Archer, holding the ship's wheel, smiled. Trip really was a sensual creature, he thought. Not in just an erotic sense, either. The engineer's overall approach to life was to dive in head-first and experience everything to the fullest. "Give me a heading!" he shouted back. "Or I'll keelhaul you, you scurvy dog!" "Aye, aye, Captain!" Trip made a show of taking a reading, then pointed. "Thataway!" "Smart ass!" Archer shouted back. But he spun the wheel in the direction that Trip indicated. A few minutes later, they were weighing anchor in a small lagoon. Trip leaned on the railing, looked across the lagoon to the white sand beach and lush foliage that was waiting for them. Archer came to stand beside him. "Nice little island." "Sure is." Trip took a deep breath. "Smell that air." He looked around, shook his head. "And this yacht. I still can't get over it. The governor is sure pulling out all of the stops." "Got any objections?" "Not me." He looked at Archer. "Up to doing a little exploring?" "I thought you'd never ask. Let's get our gear together, and we'll get the skiff ready." Trip threw him a mock salute. "Aye, aye, Cap'n." Archer smiled as he watched the younger man scurry off. Trip was right; this luxurious yacht was yet another example of the Argadians' desire to make amends. In Archer's opinion, it was the very least they could do. After all, it was on this planet that slavers had kidnaped Trip. And if the planetary patrols had been on their toes, maybe his abductors would have been stopped before they left the system. And then Trip's ordeal on Tasumi could have been prevented altogether. He'd said nothing about this to Trip; his lover was enjoying himself, and Archer had no desire to cast any shadows over that pleasure. Trip came back on deck, his arms laden with gear. "You going to stand here all day?"* * *
"So – what's the verdict?" Trip did not answer immediately; instead, he studied the scanner for a few more seconds. "Okay," he finally said. He plucked one of the cherry-sized yellow berries from its bush, popped it into his mouth. "Hmmm," he said thoughtfully. "Kind of sour." He took another berry. "Not bad, but I don't think I'd like to eat a whole bowl full." Archer reached over his shoulder, took a berry. "You're right." He tried another. "Might be good for toppings, though." "Like Chef's lemon cheesecake?" "There you go." "Speaking of cheesecake – " "I'm way ahead of you. Let's go back to the skiff. I packed us a big lunch." "Great! I'm starving." "You're always starving lately." Trip grinned. "I wonder why?" Archer aimed a playful swat at him. "Get your ass in gear, brat." Trip dodged him, and laughing, turned back to the beach. Halfway back, he stopped, and leaned against the trunk of a tree. Archer looked at him in concern. Trip's face was slightly flushed, and his eyes seemed over-bright. "Trip?" "I'm okay. Just felt a little light-headed for a second there, that's all." "You sure?" Trip laughed. "Relax. I'm fine. In fact, I'm feeling pretty damned good." Archer eyed him. "Actually, you're looking pretty damned good, too." "Thanks. Let's eat." "One-track mind," said Archer in pretended disgust, but walked alongside him amiably enough. They reach the edge of the trees, and now it was Archer's turn to stop. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, and for a brief moment, felt light-headed. Trip placed a concerned hand on his arm. "Jon?" "I'm okay," he said, and it was true. In fact, he felt better than okay; he felt great. "You sure?" Trip asked. When Archer nodded, he said, "Okay. Then I'll go get lunch started." He walked across the beach to where they had pulled up the skiff, and Archer watched him appreciatively. Trip really was beautiful, he thought abstractedly. The engineer was a slender man, but well muscled nonetheless. His gaze traveled across those broad shoulders that tapered to a slim waist and slender hips. Trip bent over, rummaging in the skiff, giving Archer a prime view of that great ass. He took a blanket out of the skiff, spread it on the sand, and then reached in again, drew out the hamper Archer had packed and plunked it down atop the blanket. And suddenly gasped and bent over double. Archer sprinted over to him. "Trip? What's wrong?" Trip slowly straightened up. "Nothing." He looked down at himself. "Oh, my," he said faintly. Archer followed his gaze, and saw what Trip was referring to. "Wow," he said, taking in the huge hard bulge visible in Trip's shorts. Trip looked at him, blue eyes glittering dangerously. And under that stare, Archer felt his pulse begin to pound in his ears. His breath came in short stitches, and he found that he, too, was becoming aroused. Very aroused. Extremely aroused. He looked hungrily at Trip, who returned his gaze with equal avidity. "What's going on here, Jon?" "Those berries," Archer replied hoarsely. "Obviously have some interesting side effects." Trip growled, deep in his throat. Archer stared at him in astonishment. He had never seen Trip like this before. It was strange. It was exciting. Tiny beads of perspiration had formed on Trip's forehead, giving him an exotic, erotic glow. The engineer growled again, and launched himself at Archer, grabbing him and kissing him hungrily, and tearing at his shirt as he did. Archer tripped, fell heavily onto the blanket, Trip landing on top of him. Archer grappled with him, tearing the younger man's shirt off. Now they were rolling around the blanket, frantically tearing at each other's clothes. Archer grabbed Trip by the hair, pulled him down, and kissed him savagely, running his hands along the younger man's sweat-slicked torso. Trip returned the kiss with equal ferocity, pulled Archer close and tore at his underwear while Archer did the same to him. Naked, frantic, they wrestled passionately, moaning and gasping. "Oh, God," Trip groaned. "Jon – I can't stand it. I'm going crazy!" "Me, too," Archer gasped. He reached into the hamper, knocking it over and scattering the contents across the pristine white sand. He groped about, finally found what he wanted, and brought out the lube. "You really are a Boy Scout," Trip panted. Archer was too busy to answer. Hastily, he readied himself, pulled Trip to him, and lifted him. Trip eagerly wrapped his legs around Archer's waist, and groaned – with pleasure – when Archer entered him. Archer drove himself into his lover, and cried out as he did so. A few hard thrusts, and both climaxed. Both climaxed, but neither was satisfied. Trip pounced, kissed Archer, hard. "My turn," he growled, and was deep inside Archer a moment later. Their cries mingled together and again, they climaxed almost immediately. Trip sank onto the blanket, a fine sheen of sweat covering him, looked up and saw Archer poised over him once more. He grabbed the Captain, pulled him close. "Do me, dammit!" The afternoon was fading into evening. The past few hours had passed in a hot, red fog of passion for both of them, and now, they lay on the blanket, exhausted, watching as the sun dipped down towards the horizon. Archer finally broke the silence. "Guess we'd better get back before nightfall." "Okay," Trip agreed languidly. Slowly, he sat up, then stood. He began gathering what was left of their clothes. He held up the remains of his shirt. "I liked this one." He sighed. "I think all any of these are good for now are cleaning rags." He picked up a sandal. "Even managed to rip the straps off our sandals," he said in a wondering tone of voice. Archer, gathering up the contents of the hamper, smiled. "At least they were sacrificed for a good cause," he pointed out, and was rewarded with one of Trip's brilliant smiles. After gathering up all their detritus, they pushed the skiff onto the water, rowed back to the yacht and secured it. Yawning, they climbed onto the main deck. Trip stretched, then stopped. "What the – " he said. "I don't believe it!" Archer had no need to ask what Trip was referring to; he was supporting a immense, insistent hard-on himself. Trip looked at him. "Think we can make it to the cabin?" "If we run."* * *
The next morning, they rowed back over to the island and picked all the berries they could find. Archer smiled. One hell of a ride. He and Trip had both been stiff and sore for days afterward. It had been worth it, though. And at the memory, he could feel himself stir. He looked over at Trip to see if he had noticed, and smiled. The younger man had fallen asleep. He looked at himself. He now had a huge, happy erection. "What are you doing up?" he asked his wayward member. "You might as forget it – there's no action here." Trip murmured, awoke. "Jon?" "Sorry, brat. Go back to sleep." "Did you say something?" "Just talking to myself." When Trip still looked quizzical, he tapped him on the tip of his nose. "Nothing to worry about, snoop. Go back to sleep – you've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow." "That's one way of looking at it, I guess," Trip said drowsily, and fell asleep again.
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