An Unexpected Attraction - Part 7
See Part 1 for heading/disclaimer information.
*Malcolm*
After my
disastrous encounter with the Lev, Trip had been so caring and considerate,
spending a whole evening taking care of me. He'd even stayed the night, just
holding me, after I'd nearly begged him to. I'd felt so needy and out of
control. I wasn't sure I liked it.
We'd woken
early, still curled together, and had talked. Trip had been so soothing,
holding me, stroking my belly and gently playing his fingers through my hair,
that I'd actually found myself opening up to him in a way I'd never done with
anyone before. I told him things about my family, my childhood, failed
relationships. Sometimes not the most pleasant of memories, but Trip just held
onto me and listened.
I surprised
both of us when I even confessed that I'd never allowed anyone to fuck me, that
I'd always been the "top" in my relationships. That being on the
bottom had always seemed like such a loss of control and I'd never felt able to
trust anyone enough to surrender that control. Trip had turned me to face him
then, and the look on his face wasn't one I'd ever seen before. He'd just
stared at me, then gave me the most gentle, and dare I say, loving, kiss I've
ever had, before pulling me into his arms and just holding me, rubbing circles
on my back until we both fell back to sleep.
When I woke
up again, he was gone. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling as if
someone had scooped out my insides and left the empty shell in my bed. When I
turned my head to check the time, I noticed the PADD propped up on the night
stand. I'd snatched it up like a drowning man grabbing for a life belt.
"Malcolm.
I'm sorry, I had to leave. Minor engineering emergency. You were sleeping so
peaceful I didn't have the heart to wake you. Go see Phlox and get some more
rest, captain says you're off-duty until 1200. ~Trip"
Okay, my
guts were back where they belonged, but I was still disappointed. I decided that
a shower, sickbay and breakfast sounded like a good plan. As I stood up and
headed for the bathroom, I realized I felt much better. Physically and
mentally.
But then
lunch time came and Trip didn't contact me. I ventured out to the mess hall
and ended up eating with some of my Armory team, suffering their naked
transporter jokes with good humor. Things were running smoothly in the Armory,
so I spent some time working with the shield data Trip had given me. My
half-shift was nearly over when the subject of my obsessive thoughts finally
turned up.
"Hey,
Malcolm."
I'd been
replacing faulty triggers on some of the phase pistols and hadn't even heard
him come in. I whirled to face him.
"Trip."
I looked at him nervously, feeling strangely vulnerable.
"So,
you look like you're feeling a lot better."
"Yes,
much better."
Trip
glanced around the room as he took a step closer to me.
"I'm
sorry I snuck out on you this morning. I felt terrible afterwards. I shoulda
at least said goodbye, not left you to wake up alone. I guess my brain wasn't
firing on all thrusters."
"It's
okay. I was having the most wonderful dream. I think you were in it."
"Oh
yeah?" Trip asked suggestively. "Anything you want to share?"
"Hmmm,
it's a possibility," I mused. "How do you feel about naked
golf?"
Trip stared
at me blankly, blinked twice, then smiled. I admit I was anticipating some
sort of smart-alecky comment about clubs and balls, but he surprised me.
"Sounds
like fun. Can we eat something first, though? I skipped lunch."
"Absolutely."
I cleaned up my workbench and we turned to leave.
"And
then we can discuss your chances of getting a hole in one," he continued,
putting his hand on my bum briefly as we headed for the door.
***
*Trip*
Malcolm
makes an adorable invalid. And he'd kill me if I said that out loud, invalid
or not. I don't know if Phlox's potions are labeled for secondary use as truth
serum, but whatever it was, it sure did a number on Malcolm. I didn't feel
right leaving him somehow, he looked so vulnerable. Who'd have thought
eight-foot-tall alien cats could bring our tough as nails armory chief to his
knees?
I'd wanted
to stay, but I was afraid he'd mistake my offer of comfort as a sexual advance,
and that was the last thing on my mind. Well, okay, not the *last* thing, but
so far down it wasn't relevant. I was so relieved to hear him ask me to stay,
I think *my* clothes vanished, because the next thing I knew I was undressed
and in his bed, holding him close.
Malcolm's
not much of a cuddler, it's more like he allows *me* to cuddle *him*. Truth to
tell, I've never been much of a cuddler either. Or more to the point, the
women I've been with never wanted me cuddling them. So I guess you could say
I'm a frustrated cuddler. I'd try, but after a few minutes they'd always push
me off of them, complaining that I was too hot or too heavy or something. Not
Malcolm. He just sighs and burrows down and wears me like some sentient
blanket. I'm getting kinda used to it, I guess. I miss it when we don't get
together. And it's not just the sex, either. Although the sex is
*incredible.*
I wouldn't
have thought it to look at him, but Malcolm is a very passionate lover. Lover.
Interesting choice of words. Are we lovers? Certainly in a physical sense, we
are. But such a simple word carries this whole complex set of meanings. Or it
is just me making it so complex? We are lovers. But are we...in love? I
don't know how to categorize this...thing, between us.
We're
friends. Good friends. And we have sex. Really, really, good sex. But is it
making love? Is that just another cliché? Can two people be intimate like
that and *not* become something more than what they were before? I wonder if
this is how women feel about men. Just the reality of the physical act of
taking part of someone else inside you, it's very overwhelming. Then it hit
me, and I suddenly wondered, when had it happened? Malcolm had been inside my
body to be sure, but when had he come to be inside my heart?
I
remembered how he'd opened up to me later on that night, well, that morning,
when we woke up still wound around each other. I know Malcolm doesn't easily
open up to anyone about anything, really. But in that one special moment of
time, he'd told me things I know he'd never spoken of before to anyone. Personal
things. Embarrassing things. Intimate things. It implied a depth of feeling,
a connection on his part. To me. And now I realized I shared that with him,
that connection. That feeling. Love, he'd called me, in that hazy moment
before falling to sleep, his defenses down. Love. Lovers. In love. Loving.
Maybe it wasn't so complex, after all. I smiled.
***
*Malcolm*
I'm
screwed. Not literally, of course, and perhaps that's the crux of my problem.
After my cuddled confession to Trip, I'd been afraid that he would start
pressuring me to let him take me or that he would stop spending time with me
altogether once he realized just how messed up I really was. Instead, he's
actually been wanting to spend more time with me, and not just in bed, either.
We'd already spent a lot of time together, even before we started having sex,
but the quality is subtly different now. If I didn't know better I'd say he's
courting me.
Once he
found out how much I liked golf, he asked me to teach him to play and even set
up a makeshift driving range in one of the cargo bays. Movie night has become something
to look forward to. Even the mess hall food has been more to my taste lately.
And sex, well, I confess I'd secretly thought those who maintained there was a
difference between having sex and making love were a bit delusional, but being
with Trip has taken on another dimension. I can't actually put my finger on
it, but it's like he's more *there*, more focused on me, on us. I've never
felt so cherished.
I'm not
sure how to react, it's frightening how quickly I've become accustomed to being
with Trip, how completely I've integrated him into my life. I want to just
relax and enjoy it, just submerge myself in him, but that annoying niggling
voice is still in the back of my mind, reminding me that I'm fooling myself,
I'm just a temporary diversion, a novelty, and that Trip will be gone once he
figures out that whatever more it is he's looking for, I don't have it. So I
find myself holding back, keeping some part of myself back as insurance for
that dreaded moment when I'm abandoned again, so there's some miniscule bit of
me left when he moves on and takes the best part of me with him.