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Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive .. |
Title: Fuzzy Pink
Author: Regina Bellatrix
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Fandom: Enterprise
Pairing: Tucker/Reed
Rating: NC-17
Category: Slash
Comments: First time, hurt/comfort. For Shakespearespot, who gave me the idea late at night while I was explaining the Reed Ragers' Evil!Reed to her.
Archived to Reed's Armory on 04/20/2003.
"Hmm... This is a problem, isn't it?"
It was a problem, alright, but Trip didn't think Malcolm was considering quite the same predicament as he. Trip was worried about the fact that the ship's Armoury Officer had managed to seal off Engineering with just the two of them inside and handcuff him to the railing of the warp engine work platform. With fuzzy pink handcuffs no less.
"How am I going to get that uniform off of you with you cuffed up like that?"
Definitely not considering the same problem.
While the less-than-helpful bits of Trip's anatomy were finding the situation rather erotic, his brain was screaming that Malcolm had gone completely insane. Cuffing him up in a public place and going about seducing him was not particularly like the shy, reserved Malcolm Reed Trip knew. Then again, neither was the mussed, leather-clad individual currently appraising him so candidly.
"Perhaps I should cut it."
How the hell had he got into this? There had been no away missions, no psychotropic pollens. Although, Malcolm had mentioned something about a dropped vial of something foul smelling in Sickbay just before he started getting ... weird.
"Too bad I didn't bring a knife. Do you have anything lying around here that would make do, Trip?"
"No, can't say as I do. Ummm... Malcolm, why don't you undo these things and we can go back to my quarters. I c'n get my uniform off, an' you c'n cuff me to my bed ... or something."
Please, please let him listen.
"After all the trouble I went to so we could have Main Engineering to ourselves?" Malcolm started to pout, and Trip thought it was the least Malcolm-like thing he'd seen yet. "I think we should stay right here." He took a step towardTrip. "It's wonderfully kinky."
Trip shivered that the word, `kinky.' Malcolm had come to a halt in front of him. Their bodies were the barest centimetres away from touching, and the heeled boots Malcolm was wearing made him tall enough that Trip was looking directly into stormy blue eyes.
He felt like a bird trapped in the gaze of a cobra. Unlike the bird, however, he was almost looking forward to being eaten.
"I had rather planned on climbing up and riding you to exhaustion," Malcolm placed his hands on Trip's chest and began stroking his nipples through the layers of fabric, "but I suppose I'll just have to improvise now."
Trip couldn't remember the last time he'd been this painfully hard. Somehow, despite the almost surreal situation, he was more aroused than he'd ever been. A last, little, sane voice in his head told him that both he and Malcolm were going to die of embarrassment when this was all over. The dominant voice told that one to go fuck itself and then screamed in relief when Malcolm started unzipping his uniform.
The Brit tugged his uniform off his shoulders, pinning his arms even tighter. There was just enough give, then, for him to pull both uniform and blue boxer-briefs far enough past his hips to free his erect phallus.
After a few feather-light kisses to Trip's hot shaft, Malcolm straightened up, stepping back with a wicked grin. Trip jerked forward against his restraints, and the grin widened.
Malcolm pulled the butter-soft leather tunic he'd been wearing off over his head, revealing a finely muscled chest with a light dusting of dark hair and ... nipple clamps. Nipple clamps with penis shaped weights.
Trip's cock jumped, and he was afraid he was going to come right then, when Malcolm started toying with one weight. Wet tongue darted out to moisten pink lips, and Trip strained forward. He wanted those lips, that tongue, on him.
The hand playing with the weight on the nipple clamp slid down Malcolm's torso to settle over the bulge in his black leather pants. His very tight black leather pants. Trip had never seen pants that tight before, much less pants that tight on Malcolm Reed.
The random thought he'd had when Malcolm had first clapped the fuzzy pink cuffs on him that he was either in heaven or in hell revised itself right then. Heaven. He was definitely in heaven.
Another few teasing strokes along his clothed erection, and Malcolm stepped back up to Trip, sinking to his knees in front of the blonde. Trip was lost the moment the pink lips he'd just been admiring closed over his penis. He suspected he was moaning, but he couldn't be sure. Control was not an option at this point, and only the pressure of Malcolm's hands on his hips kept him from choking the dark haired man as he bucked forward into the inviting warmth.
All too soon, he was coming, Malcolm sliding up his body and kissing him soundly when he was finished pumping his seed into the man's mouth. Trip's knees were weak. The pressure of Malcolm's body against his was all that was keeping him upright.
A leather sheathed leg insinuated itself between Trip's own. Malcolm reached around him, brushing their hands together before grasping the railing in a powerful grip. Sandwiched between metal bars and Malcolm Reed, Trip didn't have to worry about holding himself up while the Brit ground his erection into his hip.
Trip was amazed by how vocal the man could be with his tongue in his mouth. He knew when Malcolm came by the scream that escaped his throat and the feel of his body stiffening against him.
They shared a perfect moment, two pairs of sated blue eyes meeting and acknowledging one another, before it shattered. Malcolm staggered backwards and, eyes rolling up into his head, collapsed. He barely missed falling down the platform's steps, and Trip felt a surge of adrenaline kick through his system.
He knew he probably looked like a raving lunatic, but he was in a panic. Stopping his frantic attempts to get at Malcolm despite the cuffs chaining him to the railing was not an option. Nor was silencing the screams tearing their way from him.
Malcolm had fainted dead away, and Trip couldn't see him breathe.
Sickbay was blissfully deserted. Trip sat next to Malcolm's biobed, one limp hand held in his own. The Englishman looked abnormally pale, but Phlox swore up and down that he would be alright. Trip had even believed it after several cc's of sedative were dumped into his bloodstream.
Apparently, the vial that had been dropped during Malcolm's last visit to Sickbay was, in some way, responsible for his odd behaviour and subsequent collapse. Phlox had explained it all to him, but he hadn't understood a word of it. All that mattered anyway was that Reed was going to be fine. Even if he did die of embarrassment later.
Thick, dark lashes fluttered open, and Trip reached out to turn Malcolm's face toward him, stroking his cheek gently. Trip smiled as Malcolm squinted at him and started to register who he was seeing.
"Trip? Ugh, you would not believe the dream I had."
"If it involved you, me, the warp platform, and a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs, it was no dream."
Blue eyes went wide in shock, and Trip almost laughed at the horrified expression on Malcolm's face. "Oh Commander, I am so sorry! I would never... I wasn't myself... Please accept my apologies. I'll understand if you want to place a formal reprimand on my file."
This time Trip did laugh. Squeezing Malcolm's hand, he said, "I's okay, Mal. I ain't angry. Even if the cap'n an' T'Pol did find me workin' my wrists raw jerkin' against them things and screamin' like a madman, all the while my little man was bobbin' in the breeze, when they came t' rescue me." He brushed the hair from Malcolm's forehead, smiling wider at the man's evermore confused expression.
"Trip, what are you saying? Do you mean that you..." Malcolm trailed off, blushing a deep crimson.
"It wasn't exactly how I'd envisioned our first time to be, but... I've wanted you for a while now, Malcolm Reed, an' my granny alw's told me never to look a gift horse in the mouth."
"I ... I don't know what to say, Trip. I guess it's become rather obvious how I feel about you... I'm really at a loss."
"Well, you know what I'd like to hear?"
"What's that?"
"I'd like to hear you say that, once the Doc gives you a clean bill of health, you'll stop by my quarters some night." He looked meaningfully at Malcolm. "With those fuzzy pink handcuffs."
Malcolm's mouth twitched into a smile, and he said, "I think that can be arranged."
~the end~