Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive ..

Title: A Stranger to Me

Author: Kalita Kasar

Author's e-mail: [email protected]

Author's Web site: http://kalkasar.ussimperator.com

Rating: NC-17

Category: Slash

Pairing: Archer/Reed

Warning: PLEASE NOTE CAREFULLY!!! This story contains at least one scene of sexual aggression that may or may not border on non consensual D/s. If you don't like non-cons or D/s that doesn't faithfully subscribe to the Safe,Sane, Consensual, mindset I strongly suggest you give this one a miss. In my opinion, the scene is NOT non-cons, but perception differs from person to person. If you suspect you might be squicked, I repeat, don't read,or at least don't read part three. You've been warned, so proceed at your own risk.

Summary: "He was a stranger to me, Malcolm." He noticed the flicker of surprise in the younger man's eyes...

Archived to Reed's Armory on 11/20/2003
First posted 08/04/2002

A Stranger to Me


Starlight glimmered on the surface of a tranquil sea and Jonathan Archer leaned on the balcony railing, staring into the middle distance. The Enterprise crew had arrived on this friendly, inhabited planet a few days before, and Archer had readily accepted the offer of a few days shore leave from the local government.

After the harrowing ordeal with Malcolm when the lieutenant left a communicator behind on their last away mission, the captain had been looking for a more relaxed atmosphere where he and Malcolm could settle into their newfound relationship.

Returning to the ship after Tucker's dramatic last minute rescue, Archer decided he couldn't let Malcolm just walk out of his life again. He smiled, recalling Malcolm's unease when he had insisted on walking with him after they left decon.

And then, in Malcolm's cabin, they'd kissed for the first time. It had been everything Jon hoped it would be and more. Malcolm's resistance crumbled. He'd given himself fully, tenderly.

The captain sighed pensively, letting his eyes follow the glimmering trails of the reflected stars, out across the alien sea. His mind wandered aimlessly as well and he flexed his shoulders trying to ease away the tension of the past few weeks.

A sound of movement behind him had him glance over his shoulder and he smiled, gesturing for the younger man to join him.

Reed slipped through the sliding doors of their shared room and moved to stand at his side.

"Can't sleep?" Malcolm briefly touched Archer's shoulder.

"My mind wouldn't stop churning," he murmured. "Did I wake you?"

"No." Reed studied the view for a few moments in silence. "Want to talk about it?"

"I don't know..." Jon pushed away from the railing and Reed was immediately tense, awkward, shifting his feet and casting Jon an apologetic glance.

"I...sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I can go..."

"Malcolm." Archer stayed him with a gentle hand on his arm. The captain sighed. Malcolm had begun to unwind and relax into their new relationship, but Jon knew that it was all too easy to shatter that fragile confidence.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know if talking about it would help or not." He smiled and drew the younger man closer. "I didn't mean to push you away."

He didn't want to chase Malcolm away before they'd even gotten started. He sighed, pulling his newfound lover into his arms.

Reed leaned into him, their bodies molding naturally to each other. He didn't speak, and Archer was silent for several moments, gathering his thoughts together.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the man he held close in his arms. Malcolm stirred and pulled back a little, looking up into his eyes.

"What's troubling you, Jon?"

Archer loved to hear his name on Malcolm's lips. He smiled down into the smoky grey eyes of his lover. He wanted to say 'nothing.' He wanted to brush the problem aside and lose himself in exploring his lover, re-learning him, finding out the secret places that could thrill the younger man and leave him panting, calling Jon's name in a husky undertone filled with passion and desire. He knew though, that Malcolm would see through the ruse and demand an answer to his question with single-minded determination. He stepped towards the doors and led Malcolm inside, moving to a deeply padded sofa where he drew the Brit down to sit next to him.

"I've been asked to write a preface for a book about my father," he said quietly.

Malcolm leaned back, resting his head against Archer's arm where it lay along the back of the sofa.

"That shouldn't be difficult."

"No." Archer gave a pained smile. "It shouldn't."

"But?"

"He was a stranger to me, Malcolm." The captain noticed the flicker of surprise in the younger man's eyes. "You find that hard to believe, I suppose." Another pained smile and Jon went on. "How am I supposed to write a preface for a book about a man I...barely knew?"

Malcolm sat forward with a frown. "Jon, I've heard you talk about your father on numerous occasions. There must be a hundred things you could write about."

"There should be," Jon acknowledged. "But there aren't." He shrugged and met the younger man's eyes. "The fact is, after mom left, I didn't really have much to do with my dad. Oh sure, we lived in the same house, ate at the same table -- when he was home -- slept under the same roof, but...it was like we just said hello and goodbye each day and...that was it."

Malcolm shook his head, silent, watching his lover's face as Jon went on.

"He had his plans, his...schematics; his work; and I had...my books."






A Stranger to Me

II

Malcolm Reed looked up from the book he was trying to read and let his gaze roam to the view port. He'd developed a slight headache earlier that day and had been attempting to relax and shake it off since the end of his shift. He frowned, thinking of his lover fleetingly before pushing the thought aside. This evening was intended to be alone time; that meant time without even thinking about the tall, graceful man with sea green eyes and a boyish grin that could...

Malcolm shook his head and laid the book aside. Getting to his feet, he moved to the window, gazing out. The edge of the Trinary system was a faint blur at the edge of the view port; if he leaned his forehead on the glass and craned his neck he could see it. T'Pol had estimated they would be within range to take scans and pictures by second shift the next day.

After a few seconds, thoughts of Jon again sneaked into his mind. It was like playing that old 'red monkey' game, he thought; trying to force himself not to think of Jon was just as futile as not thinking of red monkeys for ten seconds. He allowed a rueful smile and let his breath out on a sigh. He may as well just admit it and let his mind wander where it would.

And of course his mind went straight back to Ksana, the planet where he and Jon spent their recent shore leave. It had started out well, Jon was a tender lover, and poured a lot of his energies into pleasing Malcolm. A small shudder ran through Reed's frame as he recalled the nights of sweet passion in the captain's arms. He closed his eyes, sinking into the memories this time instead of pushing them away. Warm lips melded to his own; hands caressing, finding his most sensitive spots. Malcolm's lips parted and he whispered his lover's name into the darkness.

And then the specter of Jon's father blew a cold breath across his bliss.

The story Jonathan told of his childhood, spent in the home of a man who barely paid him any attention beyond seeing he was clothed, fed and educated was such a contrast to what Malcolm had always assumed was a warm and loving father-son relationship.

The cold reality of Jon's childhood had shocked and saddened Reed. Henry Archer sounded very similar to Malcolm's own father.

The sound of his door chimes caused Reed to start. He glanced at the chronometer beside his bed with a frown. The red numeric display read 22:30. Who would be paying a call at this late hour, he wondered as he walked to the door and thumbed the button to open it.

He was greeted by the tense face of his friend Travis Mayweather.

"Travis," Malcolm stepped aside and gestured for the ensign to enter. "What brings you here so late?"


Travis walked into the room and turned to face him. "I was just taking a walk," the helmsman said. His brow was slightly creased and he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose for a moment. "I have a tension headache you wouldn't believe," he muttered.

"Hm!" Reed moved to a chair and sat down. "Must be something in the air," he said. "I've had a headache myself all evening."

Mayweather shook his head. "Nah, I'm sure it's nothing serious. Just tension. I've been working at upgrading our navigational sensors all day." He smiled and stood up. "Actually, I think I'll go see if Phlox can give me something for it. I've got an early start tomorrow."

Reed nodded and got up as well. "Yes, I probably should turn in. A good night's sleep is probably all I need."

After Travis left, Reed moved to the comm. panel and thumbed the call button.

"Reed to Archer,"

The captain's response took longer than Malcolm had expected and he wondered if Jon had gone to bed.

"Archer, go ahead," the captain's voice came back after a few seconds.

"I just called to say goodnight," Malcolm said, allowing a smile into his voice.

"Oh...right..." Archer sounded vague and distracted. "G'night,"

Before Malcolm could say anything else, the comm. was closed. He frowned at the panel for a few moments before he turned away with a frown and began to undress for bed.



III

The next morning, Malcolm's headache was no better; he considered not getting out of bed. However, an echo of his father's voice telling him that only a weakling would snivel and lie in bed for the sake of a little headache had him roll out of his bunk reluctantly and head into the shower.

The hot water on his skin was soothing, and he was able to put the headache to the back of his consciousness as he began pondering various encounters with alien species since the start of their mission.

It struck him how often they'd been taken unawares and the ship had taken damage; members of the crew had been injured in those encounters too, and he began to think that perhaps the ship should have some kind of protocol for such eventualities. Stepping from the shower and toweling dry, he decided he would devote some time to the problem that morning, and make some proposals to the captain about ways to improve their response.

He got dressed while reading the gamma shift reports which had been delivered to his personal console while he showered. The night had been uneventful from a tactical standpoint, but Hess noted two crewmen had reported sick during the night, and consequently the armory would be understaffed for alpha shift. Reed frowned as he read the report; it was lucky he had decided to persevere with work in spite of his headache.

---

Jonathan Archer strode along the corridor, staring down at the padd in his hand.

He'd been unable to focus for long on anything else the past two days. The preface would intrude into his every thought. It had robbed him of any rest the previous night as he paced his cabin, wrestling himself for words to describe his father.

Henry Archer...the aloof, cold stranger who was supposedly his father.

Archer growled, tempted to fling the padd away, but he held onto it. Glaring at it as anger bubbled up within him.

Abandoned. That's what he had been, really. Henry fed him, clothed him, and paid for his education. But he never gave Jonathan any attention beyond those things.

Abandoned.

Malcolm had abandoned him too, last night, leaving him to brood alone all night. Rage thrilled through him and the captain hesitated in his stride.

"Abandoned," he muttered. "I'm tired of being kicked aside. I'm tired of playing second fiddle to...'more important things'!"

Turning on his heel, Jonathan Archer headed for his lover's cabin. Hopefully, Malcolm wouldn't have left for work yet.

---

Malcolm was fully dressed and ready to leave when the door chime sounded. "Come," he called distractedly, his mind already on security protocols and tactical response.

The door slid open and Captain Archer stepped into the room. He carried a padd in one hand and his face was taut with something Reed couldn't decipher.

"Captain," he stood a little straighter, shoulders back, a shade less than attention; he wasn't sure whether this visit was formal or not, and he frowned. It was unlike his lover to visit unannounced.

Archer didn't speak immediately, he paced the room, staring at the padd and seemed unaware of Reed's presence.

"Captain? Is there something I can..."

"You didn't come to me last night," Archer broke in.

"No," Malcolm said. "We agreed to spend last night apart, I was..."

"You should have! I don't like it when you avoid me Malcolm!" The captain turned to him and there was something cold in his eyes. "I don't like it when you avoid me Malcolm!"

"Jon?" Malcolm frowned "I...wasn't avoiding you I was unwell...You said it was fine..."

"What else was I expected to say?"

Confused, Reed stared at his lover with a frown. He didn't know what to say, or how to react to this coldly angry man. He had never seen Archer in such a mood before. He slipped his hands behind his back shifting to the at ease posture; taking refuge behind the facade of duty. "Sir?"

Archer crossed the room to him in two long strides. His eyes flashed with that same cold fury and he caught hold of Malcolm's arm in one strong hand.

"I wanted you last night, and you weren't there!"

Malcolm felt a shiver run through him as he looked into the eyes of his lover. "I'm sorry, I..." There was something almost predatory in Jonathan's manner and a part of Malcolm thrilled to it. He licked his lips.

Suddenly, Archer kissed him, hard.

"Now, Malcolm!" the captain growled, pushing Reed backwards.

The impact as he was slammed against a bulkhead caused a jolt of pleasure that bolted from his heart straight to his cock and Malcolm groaned, giving in to the onslaught of Jon's hard, demanding mouth. He wanted this. God help him. He needed it!

Jon's hands were busy, unzipping his uniform and pushing it off his shoulders so that Malcolm's arms were pinned behind his back by the sleeves. He groaned as Archer's tongue invaded his mouth, hot and wet, thrusting deep into him and exploring ruthlessly.

His arms were released as Archer pulled the uniform off and then removed Malcolm's undershirt. Fingers grazed his skin and Malcolm gave a cry of mingled pleasure and pain when his nipples were pinched mercilessly.

His head reeled with a heady mixture of pleasure and fear as he was swung around; pushed to the wall, his hands pinned above his head by one strong hand while Jon ran his other hand down Malcolm's back and under the waist band of his blue under shorts. He groaned with pleasure, listening to the harsh, rapid breathing of his lover.

The hand was removed and he heard suckling sounds, for a moment before the hand returned and a saliva moistened finger found his opening and slid into him.

Malcolm cried out, his knees buckling as Jon's finger fucked him. He closed his eyes, reveling in the rippling pleasure that ran through his belly.

Jonathan released his hands, and reached for his cock, stroking Malcolm while his finger continued to work in and out of his body.

"Come, Malcolm!" he rasped, probing deeper with his finger until he hit the small gland inside, causing a jolt of pleasure.

Lost in a world of ecstasy, trembling from head to foot, Malcolm let out a shuddering moan, thrilling to the commanding tone in his lover's voice. He was close, so close.

Archer squeezed Malcolm's cock. "Come...now!" he growled.

Reed whimpered and arched his back as his orgasm exploded, his seed coating Archer's hand and the wall in front of him; he felt teeth sink into his shoulder. The added pain mixed with the pleasure to make his head spin until he thought he may pass out. He sobbed, collapsing against the wall and then slowly sank to his knees.

Jon was behind him kneeling on the floor with him, his voice rough with passion as he spoke close to Reed's ear.

"Never do that again, Malcolm. You're mine...you come to me every night; do you hear me?"

Mutely, he nodded, too shattered to speak.

Abruptly, Jon released him and moved away. Before Malcolm could gather his thoughts to speak, Archer had gone.

His shoulder began to smart, and as his mind slowly cleared, Malcolm reached to rub at it, surprised to find the skin broken, and a trace of blood on his fingers when he drew them away. He knelt on the floor for a long time, staring mutely at the crimson smear.

---

Walking along the corridor after leaving Reed's quarters, the captain smiled to himself. Malcolm had offered so little resistance. He had bent to Archer's will easily. It filled the captain with a feeling of power. That was the only word for it. Power...it caused his heart to pound and the blood to sing in his veins with exultation. He'd been in control, and he liked it.

His breathing was still harsh and fast as though he'd been running, but a secret part of him thrilled to the knowledge of what had really caused the physical reaction. He licked his lips and glanced back the way he'd come, half tempted to go back, but his mind tugged his attention to the padd in his hand.

Malcolm could wait until later. He had more important things to consider.







IV

Malcolm Reed walked along a corridor towards the lift. He had received a call from Archer, asking him to report to the captain's ready room. He had little doubt that the call had something to do with the recent events when Enterprise discovered a trinary system and decided to take a closer look.

Unknown to the crew at the time, the black hole associated with the system had been putting out a deadly form of radiation.

Malcolm reflected that had it not been for Sub-Commander T'Pol's seeming immunity to the radiation, the entire crew, in fact, the ship would no longer exist. He frowned at that thought.

He'd succumbed to the same obsessive behavior as the rest, and it had culminated in a fight on the bridge. Reed still felt his face heat with shame when he thought of it.

Granted, he and Commander Tucker were under the influence of radiation at the time, but that wasn't really an excuse for his actions. Not only had he lectured both the captain and Tucker on their response times, in front of other crew; he'd actually been ready to strike a superior officer.

Jon had intervened, pushing Tucker away from Malcolm, and then shoving Reed against a bulkhead and warning him that he may have him taken out and shot if he heard the alarm one more time. Malcolm closed his eyes, shaking his head. It was all over the ship, how the tactical systems came online when the captain was attempting to pilot the ship out of the radiation field.

Malcolm sighed. He fully expected a dressing down for the fight, and no doubt, the captain would call him to task for not deactivating the tactical systems.

By the time he reached the ready room, Malcolm had almost convinced himself that he would be called before the court-martial.

Pausing outside the captain's door, Reed straightened his uniform and took a moment to steel himself for what he fully expected would be an unpleasant encounter. He pressed the door chime and stepped inside the ready room when Archer called him to enter.

"You asked to see me, Sir?"

---

Less than ten minutes later, Malcolm Reed stepped out of the captain's ready room. He walked a little taller, and his relief now that the meeting had ended was evident. He allowed a smile to fleet across his lips as Travis Mayweather turned to look at him from the helm station.

Far from a dressing down, the captain had congratulated him on his tactical alert, telling him that the weapons had come online right when they were needed.

Reed returned to the Armoury with a much lighter step than when he'd left.

He set to work on the alarm; perhaps he could come up with something less obtrusive.

Malcolm was soon so absorbed in work that he started when someone cleared their throat behind him.

"Malcolm, c'n I have a word?"

"Commander!" Reed turned to face Tucker. "Of course...Is there something I can?"

"Malcolm, I came t'apologize," Tucker cut him off. "For what I said to ya, the other day on the bridge...I..."

"Sir?" Malcolm frowned and then met the commander's eyes as memory returned.

After the captain left the bridge, ordering T'Pol not to disturb him except for a *real* emergency, Tucker confronted him.

"Ya think he cares about you?" Tucker sneered. "I know him, Lieutenant, better than anyone else on this ship. He'll fuck ya and leave ya, just as quick and easy as he has every other one before ya."

"We were all under a lot of pressure, Commander," Malcolm said. "I don't think there's any need for you to..."

"Well, ah think there is...Malcolm, don't make this any harder than it already is." Tucker sighed. "I was way outta line. I've got no business tellin' ya somethin' like that...I..."

Malcolm looked away with a frown. "Is it true?" he asked, unsure why it should even matter. "He's...had a lot of lovers?"

Tucker shrugged. "Not really, not more than the average..." He met Reed's eyes with a pained expression. "Look it was just somethin' I said t'try and rattle ya. It didn't mean anythin'." He swallowed and half turned away. "I'd...kinda appreciate it, if ya didn't mention it to J...to the Cap'n."

Malcolm looked sharply at Tucker, studying him for a moment as realization dawned. "Lord, Trip. I had no idea. I..."

Tucker waved a dismissive hand. "Don't let it worry ya," he forced a grin and took a step towards the doors. "I'll be goin'," he said. "I just thought I should apologize, an' I did it." Turning on his heel, the commander made a hasty exit leaving Malcolm staring after him.

With a frown and a shake of his head, Malcolm turned back to his work. Suddenly, a lot of things made sense.

Tucker's obsession with making the captain 'the perfect chair,' during the trinary system radiation was one thing, but, thinking back, Malcolm began to recall other small signs which he'd overlooked before. He had dismissed them as signs of the deep friendship between Tucker and the captain. Now they took on a far deeper significance and Malcolm winced at how dismissive he'd been of the commander's feelings.

One part of his mind dwelled on Tucker as he worked the rest of the afternoon, and by the time his shift ended, he had determined that Jon would never find out about the situation from him. Tucker had more or less entrusted him with a confidence, and he wasn't about to violate that trust.

As he made his way to his cabin to shower and change, Malcolm pondered what this would mean for his friendship with the commander. Things would change, no doubt, and that thought caused a deep frown. He had come to view Tucker as a close friend. It was a friendship he valued; one he didn't wish to lose, but his involvement with Jon must be painful for Trip. The worst part was that he couldn't even talk it over with Jon and get his insight on it.

Perhaps he should just stay in tonight and give the situation some thought. Malcolm let himself into his cabin and headed into his bathroom.

"Never do that again, Malcolm. You're mine..." the captain's voice, breathless and rasping echoed in his mind, "you come to me every night; do you hear me?"

A frisson of pleasure and something akin to fear rippled through Malcolm's belly at that memory. He stepped out of his uniform, and turned on the hot water stream before getting into the shower.

That was just some sexual game, he told himself. I don't think it was really serious. He needed time to think and work some things out. Malcolm was sure Jon would understand.


V

"I gave you a command!" Jonathan Archer faced his lover across the confines of Malcolm's cabin, his green eyes flashing with the anger that threatened to consume him.

"A command?" Malcolm frowned and shook his head. "But at the time we were in a situation that I presumed..."

"Presumption is a foolish action, Malcolm." Archer cut him off.

"I didn't think we were in rank, or that it was an order in your capacity as captain, Jon!" Malcolm stood his ground. "After all, if you think about what we were doing at the time..."

"Rank has nothing to do with this!" Archer took a step closer to his lover face to face as he lowered his voice to a dangerously low growl. "I told you in as clear words as I can use that I want you to come to me every night. YOU understood my meaning perfectly! Yet you chose to ignore it!"

Swallowing hard, Reed backed off a pace. He blinked and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it meant so much to you...I...thought...I thought it was just a game." He lowered his eyes from the cold anger in Jon's gaze.

Silence fell between them for several breaths. Malcolm shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for Jon to speak. He'd managed to screw up already, after...how long had they been together, two months? Three? He let out his breath on a sigh. No doubt this relationship, like every other was destined to founder on the rocks of misunderstanding. He closed his eyes. Any moment now, the death knell would sound. He gulped and squared his shoulders. He would take it on the chin, just as he always did.

Silence.

Such *loud* silence. Malcolm looked up hesitantly and found Jon's eyes, drained of anger now, fixed on him with an expression he couldn't quite decipher.

Jon closed the distance between them and Malcolm's heart jumped at the sudden motion. He found himself face to face with his lover again, but this time the tension that sang between them was very different. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were smothered in a searing kiss as the captain, his lover pulled him close and assaulted his mouth with demanding lips, his tongue probing, tasting.

Malcolm shuddered and leaned in to Jon's muscular body. Maybe it would be all right after all.

The moment he relaxed into the kiss Jon pulled away.

"You thought wrong," Archer growled. "This is no game, Malcolm." The anger was back, but mixed with the passion of a moment before it was no longer frightening. Malcolm felt a thrill of excitement run through him.

"No, Sir," he answered quietly. "It's not a game, sir." He prayed he had read his lover right.

Keeping his gaze lowered, Malcolm started when fingers came to rest on the back of his neck. It was a light touch, but it was also possessive. He shuddered as Archer leaned close to his ear to breathe, barely audible.

"Mine..."

"Yes, sir." His eyes slipped closed and he inwardly cursed his own weakness; the ease with which he bent to this new dynamic, and yet, it was like coming home.

The slightest pressure on the back of his neck sent Malcolm to his knees. He shivered as his lover moved to stand in front of him. He raised his eyes and met Jon's gaze. The predatory gleam he'd seen there a few days before had returned. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and Archer chuckled.

"Do you know how much it turns me on to see you on your knees in front of me?" Archer's voice caressed him like silk.

"Yes, Sir." Reed struggled to keep the smile from his lips, but it defied him. He looked away. "I think I do, sir."

"Look at me! I didn't say you could look away!"

"Yessir," he looked up.

"Hands behind your back," Archer purred, he smiled at the instant compliance. "Good."

Malcolm shuddered, his heart had gone into overdrive and his breath came quickly between parted lips. He was very aware of his surroundings. Crystal clarity made everything vivid. The coldness of deck plating through his clothing, the floor under his knees, the sound of his own harsh breathing, the vibration of his heart against his ribs; his own arousal, impossible to ignore or deny. When Archer's hand came to rest against his cheek, he surrendered.

"Please, sir," he whispered, turning his cheek into that touch, craving more.

"What, Malcolm...what do you want?"

"I ... Everything," he said, "I want...everything." He didn't know how to say what was in his heart. Only knew the craving was there. He wanted to belong; he wanted to give, to take, to surrender.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes...Yes, I'm sure, Sir. I want this."

"Malcolm. Stand up." Archer accompanied the command with gentle pressure under his chin and Reed scrambled to his feet, looking into the eyes of his lover, his commander. He drew a deep shuddering breath and swayed on his feet.

"I'm going to leave," Archer said. He held up a hand to stop the instant protest that rose in Reed's throat. "I'm going to leave, Malcolm, and I want you to take the next three hours to think about what you're offering. What I'm asking. At the end of those three hours, if you still want this. Come to my cabin and we'll talk. If you decide you don't want this...comm me and I'll come here. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir..." Malcolm studied his lover carefully, wondering.

"What is it?"

"If I decide...if I should decide I don't...will that mean that it's over?"

"That's up to you, too." Jon said softly. He touched Malcolm's cheek lightly with his fingers and then he turned and left quickly.


VI

The time seemed to be dragging and Archer glanced at the chronometer for at least the tenth time in as many minutes. Two hours 49 minutes ago, he'd walked out of Malcolm's cabin. He'd forced himself to walk away when everything in him had wanted to accept Reed's complete surrender then and there. The darkness that had welled within him during the singularity had returned, had wanted to take over, had wanted to possess Malcolm completely.

The rational side of his nature had prevailed; he knew he needed to give Malcolm the opportunity to think clearly, to make this decision with an unclouded mind.

He sighed and bounced the water polo ball off the bulkhead. Two hours 53 minutes, ten seconds.

He told himself he wouldn't go to Malcolm unless his lover commed him. The entire relationship lay in Reed's hands; he had to let Malcolm make this decision alone, because his need for control frightened him. Jon had never felt this way before. At least, not to this extent.

He bounced the ball against the wall again. He'd tried reasoning that it was just the singularity that had caused that darkness in him to come to the fore, but it couldn't have just come from no-where, right? It had to have been a part of him before then. Archer dropped the ball onto his bed and stood up, pacing the cabin. It must have lain dormant or semi-dormant in him all his life, he realized.

Thinking back, he could recall times when he'd played control games before, and that's what they had been, then; games. Something to heighten the sexual rush. But with Malcolm it was different. He wanted to own Malcolm. Archer shook his head. That sounded so wrong. It wasn't possible to *own* another human being...was it?

"Not without him consenting to it," Archer muttered. He glanced at the clock. Two hours 58 minutes...he looked away without checking the seconds. He didn't want to know. He leaned his forehead against the wall above his view port and closed his eyes. {He won't come.} He thought. {It's over, he won't come, and he won't call, and you'll be abandoned again}. He sighed and shifted his weight. {You pushed him too hard, scared him off...he'll decide he doesn't...}

Archer's thoughts were cut short by the door chime. He turned his head, staring at the door with mingled hope and fear. What if it wasn't Malcolm, what if someone else had decided they had to see him right at that moment? Archer turned to face the door and squared his shoulders.

"Enter."

As the door slid open, Archer let out his breath on a sigh of relief. He held out his hand, palm upwards towards the man who stood just inside the doorway.

"Come here," he commanded. "Come to me."

Trembling fingers slid across the captain's and tension flashed between them. Archer reached out to caress the face of the man who stood before him and watched in wonder as Malcolm slowly sank to his knees on the floor.

He smiled down at his surrendered lover and their eyes met.

"Not abandoned anymore," Archer whispered on a breath, barely audible in the darkness of his cabin.

"No, Sir." Malcolm replied. "Not anymore."

~the end~