Title: An Unfair Surrender
Author: Pretzelduck
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Author's URL: http://www.geocities.com/pretzelduck
Date: Posted to EntSTSlash 04/16/2003
Archive: Permission to archive granted to EntSTCommunity, Tim Ruben, and WWOMB
Fandom: Star Trek:
Category: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Status: Complete
Pairing: Archer/Reed
Main character(s): Archer/Reed, Tucker
Summary: A forgotten birthday, a bottle of bourbon, and a bad day don't go well together. Jon should know better than throw his attraction to Malcolm into the mix.
Warnings: n/a
Series: n/a
Sequel to: n/a
Spoilers: n/a
Disclaimer: Guess what?
I don't own the Star Trek franchise.
Author's Notes:
-------
I have never been happier to see the door to my cabin. To put it mildly, the day simply sucked. A problem with the warp engine brought Enterprise to a stand still. Then, to make matters worse, an attempt to fix the engine overloaded the power to the weapons systems and turned the armory to a disaster area.
I'm not sure what the worst part of it all is. The fact that Enterprise is adrift for, according to Trip, at least another day. Or the fact that the armory looks like a torpedo detonated inside of it. But the worst part of it, as pathetic as it sounds, is that said damage to the armory denied me the chance to look at Malcolm on my birthday.
Or maybe it's the fact that today is my birthday and with everything that has gone on, no one remembered. Nope. The worst part is definitely the Malcolm thing.
It's not like I could have expected any recognition of the day from Malcolm. That would be fraternizing. And no one is more aware of Malcolm's feelings on relations with his senior officers than me. But that doesn't change this senior officer's feelings about relations with him in the slightest. You know, feelings like desire, longing, affection...all the makings of an unrequited attraction. I had hoped for a nice boring day so I could spend his bridge shift watching Malcolm out of the corner of my eye as a little birthday present to myself.
And it all had to be, literally, blown to pieces.
A part of me feels guilty for being so upset about my birthday. Enterprise, the ship under my command, is crippled and members of my crew are in sickbay being treated for various injuries. I should be considering myself lucky that no one, including Malcolm, had been more seriously hurt and that the damage to the ship is repairable. But here I am, walking through the doorway and into my empty quarters, and I can't help but feel a little bummed.
Until I catch sight of my desk. Or more precisely, the bottle of bourbon sitting on my desk.
I walked over and picked up the bottle to give it a closer look. It's a good brand, not my usual, but a good brand nonetheless. I set it back down on the desk and notice the folded piece of paper it was apparently on top of.
The handwriting is neat and exact and the message is short. 'Happy Birthday.'
I can't help but grin. Where in the world did Trip find the time to sneak down here and put the bottle in my quarters? I appreciate the gesture, that's for sure. In any case, it certainly helps lighten my mood. Reaching out, I hit the comm button as I lean up against the desk.
"Archer to Tucker."
"Tucker here. What's up, Cap'n?"
"Just wanted to say thank you for the gift."
"What gift?"
"The birthday gift. You know, the bourbon."
"Aw shit...today is your birthday, ain't it?"
"Trip..."
"That bourbon ain't from me. I've been in Engineering all day..." There's a pause, as Trip answers one of his crew's questions. "...Looks like that's from somebody else..." I can hear someone else call his name in the background. "I gotta go, Cap'n. Good luck with figuring out who it's from. Oh...hey, happy birthday."
"Thanks. Talk to you later, Trip."
Who in the world would have given me a bottle of bourbon for my birthday? There's an easy way to figure this out. I think I can eliminate anyone besides the senior staff. Out of the senior staff, who wasn't on the bridge all day?
No way. It isn't possible. My little game of elimination leaves only one other possibility besides Trip. T'Pol, Hoshi, and Travis were all on the bridge with me. But it can't be.
Malcolm. Why would Malcolm leave me a birthday present? How would Malcolm know it was my birthday in the first place? I have the oddest little thought and I can't help but giggle to myself. Malcolm broke a rule. He broke a rule to give me a gift.
I really like the sound of that. One little indiscretion deserves another, though. Before I can change my mind, I'm walking down to Malcolm's quarters, bottle in hand.
After hearing him say to come in, I enter Malcolm's cabin. Sparsely decorated, just like I thought it would be.
"Captain?"
"Evening, Malcolm." I hold the bottle up and I watch as a blush sneaks across his cheeks.
"Sir...I can explain..."
"You don't need to explain anything to me, Malcolm." Actually, I would really, really like an explanation but I know I'm not going to get the real one so what's the point in pushing. He'll just politely dismiss me. "However, I was wondering if you'd care to join to me in a drink."
Please, Malcolm... A drink with your captain won't kill you. I swear. He turns his back on me for a moment and walks over to the shelf over his bed. When he turns back around, there are two glasses in his hands.
"In honor of your birthday, Captain." He likes rules so much; there should be one against him smiling like that.
I really like Malcolm's sense of propriety right now. It means he's too polite to comment on the ridiculously idiotic grin on my face.
-------
The bottle is almost empty. I pick it up and give it an experimental shake. Make that empty. As in no more bourbon. Damn. Time to figure out just how much I drank. I don't think it was very much. I'm pretty sure Malcolm drank more than me. In fact, I'm positive.
Malcolm started out our little bourbon and bullshit session sitting on the very opposite side of the bed. Now, he's right next to me. And I mean right next to me. Our thighs and hips are touching and if I wanted to, I could put my arm around his shoulders and pull him against me. All right, I want to but I'm not stupid. Even a drunk Malcolm wouldn't let me do that. It would be against all those rules. I can't remember exactly what they say at the moment but I know he's a big fan of them.
Whoa. What's Malcolm's hand doing on my leg? How did Malcolm's hand get on my leg? Before I can think about it too much, he's leaning into my side. I turn my head to look at him, only to be distracted by that hand of his moving higher on my leg.
"It isn't fair, you know." I have no idea what he's talking about. I don't really mind, though. As long as he doesn't move away. The pressure of his body against my side and his hand on my leg is creating a pressure of a different kind. A quite pleasurable kind.
I manage to pull my eyes away from the sight of his hand on my leg and look over at him. Those grayish-blue eyes are glazed over with alcohol and his cheeks are a nice shade of red. I can't tell if it's from the bourbon or from embarrassment.
"What isn't fair, Malcolm?" I didn't slur a single word. I knew I drank less than he did.
Malcolm doesn't answer me, though. Well, not vocally anyway. His hand leaves my thigh and he starts to move like he's going to get up. And he does. He sits up, turns toward me, and the next thing I know, an intoxicated Malcolm Reed is straddling me.
"It isn't fair that..." He pauses for a moment, as if he's searching for the right words. Or if he's drank even as much as I have, he's searching for the ability to say them clearly. "...that my defenses are too weak to fight you."
Our eyes finally meet and while his are still a bit glassy, there is something else there. A burning. Desire. Holy shit. That's about as deep as my thought process is going right now. God...he looks so good like this. How in the world am I supposed to be thinking rationally?
One of his hands is running through my hair now. I've waited so long to have him touch me. This is all too much. He thinks that it's unfair for him. What about me? I can't possibly fight him off. I know he's drunk. I know I've had too much. But I can't tell him no. I can't care about the consequences. For this single moment in time, Malcolm wants me. My heart is pounding; it's screaming at me. I want to yell back at it: I know...I know the risks, the fallout will be horrific, but I have to have him. I just have to.
I lean away from the wall, bringing our bodies into more contact. One hand goes to his back, the other laces through his hair, and I pull him forward...closer. There's no hesitation on his part. I don't know if I'd notice if there was. His hand moves to the back of my head and suddenly, our lips meet.
There's no pretense of tenderness here. It's an assault. A full-blown out mouth-to-mouth attack. Our tongues battling for domination. I keep pulling him closer. I need the contact. I have to touch him everywhere. My hands are running along his back and chest; they move up to his neck and face when we finally break our kiss, in desperate need for oxygen.
I can't stop the groan that escapes my lips as Malcolm leans forward even more and I become aware of his hardness pressing against my groin. That feels incredible. It's beyond incredible. That need to touch him overwhelms me again so I pull him into another kiss.
Using the distraction and my body weight, I roll him over and onto his back, my weight pressing him into the mattress. I prop my upper body up on my elbows but the rest of me is lying flat against him. Our legs, groins, bellies...they're all touching. Malcolm doesn't seem to mind, though. His arms are wrapped around me, caressing my back. The look of pure desire on his face is probably sexier than it has a right to be.
Out of nowhere, a burst of sadness runs through me. My mind knows this is just a drunken mistake on his part. He doesn't want this. His body and inebriated mind might but my Malcolm doesn't. I don't want him like this. I try to pull away but he holds me in place.
"Please, Jon. I need you."
Jon. Damn this man and his weapons. His little half-smile, his biting sarcasm, his gorgeously lean body, and now the ultimate: his voice saying my name. I can't refuse him, can I?
Please don't let him hate me. Please don't let him be so hurt that he flinches at the sound of my voice. Please let him be too drunk to forget this ever happened.
I stop trying to pull away. Instead, I kiss his forehead softly; an affectionate gesture that seems at odds with the simple need flowing through us both right now.
"Do you know how long I've wanted this? How much I want you?" I couldn't help myself. I had to tell him. At least if he does remember, perhaps Malcolm will know that I wanted...want him. Even with no alcohol in my system.
His legs come up and wrap around me. Our bodies are pressed tightly against each other now; our erections rubbing against one another.
"I have a pretty good idea."
Does he? Does he know that I've been attracted to him since the moment I met him? I certainly haven't told him and I had only planned to tell him much, much later. Like in another life.
His nimble hands move down to my ass and all analysis quickly goes out the window. He's squeezing it, grinding us together. We both groan aloud at the increased friction. That is one amazing sound. An aroused Malcolm, hot for me. I have to touch him like he's touching me and I realize that this isn't the best position to do so. I slip my hands between his back and the mattress. Trying desperately to remember the exact size of the bed, I roll us both to our sides.
Much better...Our legs are entangled together; it crushes us against each other even more. I run my hands down his back until I reach his ass, kneading the cheeks through the rough cloth of his uniform.
His uniform. I have a new goal now. Get the damn thing off him as quickly as possible. I roll off the bed and stand up, pulling him with me. Malcolm's looking at me quizzically but he quickly gets the point when I start tugging at the zipper on his uniform.
I'm not sure exactly where our clothes go or how long it takes us to get them off. But I do know the precise second that Malcolm is completely naked. That sight is worth every problem we've encountered. His muscular chest tapers into narrow hips. I pull my eyes away from him and look up into his darkened eyes. In one quick movement, we're back together. Our mouths and hands are everywhere.
One of his hands travels down between us to stroke my hardened cock. The pleasure that runs through me is too much for me to handle. I nip at his neck and earlobe, trying to relieve some of the pressure. I have to touch him so I reach down and take him into my hand.
The sound of Malcolm moaning fills the room as I run my hand up and down his throbbing cock. It feels so good in my hand; heavy and hard...because of me. I brush my fingers over the moist head and it seems to be a trigger as he grabs me and pushes me backwards onto to the bed. He reaches up and pulls something off the shelf above his bed. Then, Malcolm's hand is back on me, stroking me in a tortuously slow rhythm.
Now, I'm the one moaning and I don't even notice as he uses his strength to pull me onto my hands and knees. He actually intends to...
"Malcolm..." His name escapes my lips as his fingers trace a path down from my neck, along my spine until he reaches my ass. His hands disappear and I can hear the sound of a container opening behind me. Suddenly, a cold slick finger dips into my crack and runs along it, teasing my opening.
I buck frantically into the touch. I want this so much and he's not even inside me yet.
"Oh, God..." He is now. One finger is stretching me, preparing me for him. I'm trying badly to keep my hips still, to not thrust back against him. But then another finger enters me and then a third is worked in. I can't handle this anymore. I'm not going to last very long
"Please, Malcolm..."
He seems to understand and his fingers are pulled out and then there's a pause as he applies the lubricant. The thought of him touching himself is almost too much but before I can think about it too much, the head of his cock is pressing against my opening. I push back against the mushroom-shaped tip and he grabs my hips, pulling me towards him. With a grunt, Malcolm is completely sheathed within me.
I think I hear his voice cry out my name but all of my senses are gone. My world is Malcolm thrusting in and out of me. There's no rhythm to it but I don't care. I meet him, plunge for plunge. I can feel the pressure building inside of me. Everything in my body is tightening, straining for release.
One of his hands moves down from my waist and covers my quivering cock. That's all it takes to do me in. I push back against him even more. I can't form words any more but I need more of him. Like it's an instinct, he starts to slam into me harder and harder. I'm getting so close.
Our movements are frenzied now. Malcolm's hand starts to stroke and suddenly, my release hits. Everything shatters and my muscles contract around Malcolm. With two more thrusts, he collapses on top of me.
It's too much for my exhausted body to handle. My arms give out and we fall onto the bed, panting. We lay there, not moving, trying to catch our breaths. After a time, I can't keep my eyes open any longer. The last thing I sense before dozing off is Malcolm slipping out of me and his sticky hand on my chest pulling me back against him, his voice whispering my name in my ear.
-------
For a moment, I'm not sure where I am. My mind clears up, though, as soon as I feel the warmth behind me. It's him. Malcolm. The events of last night instantly run through my mind. Okay, so the sex wasn't that great. I have no doubts about Malcolm's prowess in bed. But I was drunk. And he was drunker. We weren't coherent enough for finesse or anything resembling technique. I had sex with Malcolm. Oh, shit. Beautifully miraculous shit but shit nonetheless.
Apparently, I'm awake before he is. Or else, he'd probably be hiding in the bathroom until I woke up and left. I know Malcolm isn't a coward but last night, thanks to some bourbon, all of his no-fraternization policies went out the airlock.
Right now, though, I'm going to pretend that I'm not thinking about any of that. Malcolm is curled up behind me and we spooned together, his arm draped over me and his hand resting on my bare chest. It feels so good just to be here. In his bed with him. I've dreamt about being here before. Of course, my dreams didn't include the whopper of a headache I've got right now but the pain is offset by Malcolm's simple presence. In my dreams, he doesn't feel this real. Probably because now he is real.
It's been said that at least one of a person's most sacred wishes comes true in their lifetimes. If that's right, then I've been lucky. I've had two. First, Enterprise and now, I've woken up next to a Malcolm who, last night anyway, wants me.
I can feel him start to stir behind me. I resist the impulse to wipe the wetness away from my eyes. Good bye, Malcolm. This might have been a mistake to you but I'll never forget the way you felt in my arms. I'll always remember how right we felt together.
"Bugger." Malcolm's hold on me inexplicably tightens for a moment before I feel his lips gently touch the back of my neck. What in the world? I must flinch in surprise because he's out of bed as fast as a lightning bolt.
He's looking down at my open eyes and there's this panicked look on his face. I sit up, a rumpled sheet covering the evidence of the effect of looking up at a still completely naked Malcolm.
"Malcolm..." I don't even get to finish my thought. It doesn't matter that I had no idea what I was going to say in the first place.
"This is inappropriate." With that, Malcolm turns around and disappears into his bathroom. When I'm right, I'm right. I think that is probably a sign that I need to leave. Picking my clothes up off the floor, I start to get dressed. By the time I'm finished, I realize just how uncomfortable I feel. My uniform is a disheveled mess, I'm still sticky from last night's debacle, and I can smell Malcolm on me. His scent mixes with mine and it creates this gloriously distinctive combination. It's a painful reminder of what I'll never know again. Our legs entangled, our smells mixing, our hearts beating as one.
It's still early, I think. I don't think I'll run into anyone on my back to my quarters. It doesn't matter, though. A part of me is waiting for Malcolm to come out. Tell me that he wants me too. He doesn't, though. So I leave his quarters, his bed... his private life.
And I thought yesterday sucked.
-------
A little part of me really wishes that T'Pol would have changed her mind and decided to eat with us tonight. Instead, she decides to meditate and I have to deal with Trip. I can tell by the look on his face and the shifting in his seat that he's dying to ask me something. And I have a pretty good idea what it is, too.
"Are ya gonna tell me what's been botherin' ya all day or am I gonna hafta guess?"
I just roll my eyes at him. I really don't want to talk about it. "I don't know what you're talking about, Trip."
"Knock it off, Cap'n. You sound like Malcolm."
Malcolm...He must read something on my face because the look on his immediately softens. Sometimes I really appreciate how long Trip and I have been friends. Wordless communication is a beautiful thing. So is Trip's ability to tell when I have a crush on someone.
"What happened?"
"I figured out who gave me the bourbon."
"I'm guessin' it was Malcolm by that look on yur face." All I can do is nod. This is where it gets ugly. This is where I really screwed up. "Are ya gonna tell me the rest of the story?"
"Under protest only." I try to smile at him but I'm sure it only comes off as pathetic. "I took the bottle down to his quarters and convinced him to share it with me."
Trip leans back in his chair and nods sagely. Like he knows exactly what I'm going to say next. "Lemme guess. You got drunk and said somethin' to Malcolm about yur feelings for him."
If only. I wish that was what's bothering me. That would be easy to explain away...the influence of alcohol. "No."
"No?" Trip looks shocked for a moment before his face contorts into its thinking pose. "You got drunk and did somethin' about yur feelings for Malcolm?"
All I can do is nod again. There's silence as the steward comes in and brings us our dinner. Once he's gone, Trip goes back to looking at me expectantly.
"What did ya do? Did ya kiss him?"
"I had sex with him." My statement hangs in the air. Trip looks like a large-mouthed bass with his mouth gaping open like that. It stays like that for the longest time and it's starting to irritate me. "Say something, Trip."
"You and Malcolm...you two did a little drunken horizontal dancin'...I don't believe it."
I resist the urge to hit him upside the head. "Believe it."
"What happened?"
"I told you, Trip."
"No...I mean afterwards. You know, in the morning. Did he remember what you two did?"
"Yeah."
It's his turn to just nod. He gets this apprehensive look on his face; it reminds me of the expression he has when he's faced with a bunch of insects.
"Well...um...at least he's not actin' any different..."
Before I realize it, my clenched fist slams down on the table as pure anger surges through me. "Don't you think I've noticed that?! It's like it never happened!" All of my energy leaves me at this point. I slump forward, prop my elbows up on the table, and rest my head on top of my hands.
"It's like we never happened."
Trip reaches across the table and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Do you want me to talk to him?"
"No. That'd probably just revert him back to the ultra-soldier mode he was in when he first came aboard. He's still talking to me like he was before. I'll take what I can get." All of a sudden, I have this need to be by myself. I want to go to bed or read or something. Alone. "If you don't mind, I think I'm gonna go back to my quarters."
"No problem, Cap'n."
"Thanks for the ear, Trip."
He smiles sympathetically at me. "My ears are available any time you need them."
-------
Once again, I find myself staring at the door to my cabin. And just like last time, I'm incredibly glad to see it. I key in the code to open the door. I'm even glad to be coming back to my empty quarters. I swear.
Okay...not so empty quarters.
"Malcolm?"
He's sitting on the edge of my bed, idly scratching behind one of Porthos' ears. At the sound of my voice, his head lifts up and I notice just how blue his eyes look. That's weird...usually they look grayer. Malcolm stands up and as he does, I realize why his eyes look different. He's in casual clothing. All black casual clothing. It's what makes his eyes look so blue and it also causes his delightfully pale skin to look almost gossamer.
"I wanted to talk to you privately..." He takes a step to his left and picks up a bottle I hadn't noticed off my desk. It looks vaguely similar... Malcolm holds the bottle out to me. "...so I could give this to you."
I recognize the bottle now. It's the damn bourbon bottle. What in the hell kind of game is he playing?
"This isn't appropriate, Malcolm." I throw his words back at him bitterly. A flash of hurt crosses his face but he just extends his arm out further so the bottle is closer to me. I refuse to take it. I can't do this with him. One minute, he's smiling at me and the next, he's almost saluting me.
"For once, I have to say I don't particularly care about appropriate." Malcolm thrusts the bottle into my hands and I grab it to keep it from falling to the floor. It's suspiciously light. What is he up to?
"It's empty, Malcolm."
I watch him swallow nervously as he takes a step toward me. His cheeks are red but this time I'm pretty sure it's from embarrassment.
"I know. I...I thought that...I...wondered if...you might like to try...only if you want to, of course...an...um...'us'...me and you...with... without the alcohol..."
I don't believe what I'm hearing. Is he confessing what I think he's confessing? "Why?"
His head drops and his eyes focus intently on his shoes. He looks absolutely miserable. My heart starts to ache at the sight. Until his back straightens and Malcolm looks back into my eyes. The intensity he's famous for is obvious on his face; he's determined about something.
"I told you that my defenses were too weak to fight you. That was not the bourbon talking. That was me." He takes another step toward me and on an impulse, I set the bottle down so my hands are free. "I surrender."
"What?" I am so confused right now. Apparently, he remembers what he says when he's drunk.
"You asked me if I knew how much you wanted me. Now I have a question for you. Do you know how much I want you?"
He wants me? Malcolm wants me... Memories of Malcolm are begging for my attention. Him kissing my neck when he thought I was sleeping. The way his arm tightened around me before he did. The look of ecstasy on his face when I touched him. The sound of his voice whispering my name.
I cross the space between us and gently place my hand on the side of Malcolm's face. I lean forward and without hesitation, he meets me halfway. His lips feel exactly like I remember, so incredibly soft. This kiss is the polar opposite of our first. We're both being cautious, unsure of how fast to proceed. I wrap my arms around him as we break the kiss. He does the same and lays his forehead against my shoulder. Malcolm is trembling slightly... I can feel it through our embrace. By the vibrations I notice in my hands, I'm trembling, too.
"I think it's safe to say that we both want each other."
I can feel Malcolm start to chuckle at my words. The sound is music to my ears but to be able to feel it, to be holding him this close...knowing that he wants me, too...is indescribable.
"Do you have any terms for my surrender?"
I nudge the side of his head with my forehead so he looks up at me. There's such an open expression on his face. It makes him look even more handsome; it gives him a vulnerability I think he fears.
"I have three terms, Malcolm. First: Off-duty, when we're alone, you have to call me Jon."
He smiles at that one and gives me a peck on the lips. "I suppose that's acceptable...Jon."
"Secondly, I retain the right to kiss you whenever I want."
This time, however, that terrified look returns to his eyes. "In public?"
I give him a little squeeze. "Not now...maybe later?"
Malcolm nods happily and returns the squeeze. "And term number three?"
"I want you to talk to me..." My voice breaks. I can't help it. I want him to know that I want a relationship not just sex. I think he feels the same way but I have no idea. I don't read him all that well yet. I hope that changes.
"When I was a boy, I once had to have my stomach pumped because I ate an entire bottle of Mum's vitamins. I thought they were candy." I'm the one laughing now. Even as a kid, Malcolm was well-acquainted with the medical profession.
He turns his head and lays it back down on my shoulder. He snuggles in closer to me. "May I name a term of my own?"
All of a sudden, I'm scared out of my mind. What if he thinks all of that wasn't reassurance but orders in disguise?
"Of course, Malcolm. I'm not ordering you to do any of that, you know. You *do* know that...right?"
"I know, Jon. As for my own personal term..." I can feel him shift against me and the gentle press of his lips against my neck. He must like doing that. "...I would like to request more of this."
"More of what?"
"You holding me."
The voice inside my head turns sing-song on me. 'I'm melting...I'm melting...' Yeah, I'm melting all right. Into a puddle at Malcolm's feet. That has to be one of the sweetest things I've ever heard.
"For how long?" I'm biting my tongue as I wait for his answer.
"Until February 31st comes around, if you don't mind."
It takes me a second to catch on. There is no February 31st. Which means it will never come around. We'll be standing in each other's arms for an eternity.
"In that case, I accept the terms of your surrender."
Malcolm's head comes away from my shoulder and tilts upward. At the same time I bow my head and as our lips meet, I realize something: Today didn't suck, after all. Malcolm's mouth opens underneath mine and that's it. No more thinking. Just feeling. And maybe some sucking.
-fin-