Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Dawn
N.B.: One of the EntStSlash listsibs mentioned that Malcolm ought to put a bell around Trip’s neck to keep track of him, and considering how worried the poor boy looked during Trip’s absence in “Dawn,” I’m inclined to think it might not be such a bad idea. Thanks to SarahG. for the phrase ‘succulent shaft.’ ~RB
Three strides. Just three more strides and he’d be at his station. Three strides and the infernal jingling would cease.
“Sound, Cap’n?”
“Yes, that jingling sound. What’s causing it?”
“Dunno. Maybe a bad zipper…”
“Nevermind the captain,” Reed broke in. “What about me? I was worried sick about you, you know.”
“Missed you, too.” Trip placed a kiss on his lover’s cheek, drawing a smile from the dark haired man.
“And look at what that Arkonian did to your beautiful face!” Malcolm reached out to trail his fingers along the nasty bruise on Trip’s jaw. “I should never let you out of my sight.”
Tucker had laughed, right along with his lover and their friend. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have, if he’d thought Malcolm would actually do it.
After a small tirade, which devolved into him begging Malcolm to remove the damn thing, Trip had ‘consented’ to letting the sliver bell-necklace remain. He’d figured that the fabric of his uniform would dampen the jingling of the bell, making it more of a symbolic gesture. He could live with symbolic. Especially when wearing the odd gift made Malcolm happy.
Unfortunately, the bell rested in the hollow at the base of Trip’s neck, protected from the restrictive fabric of his uniform, free to jingle gaily as he moved about the ship. It was more irritating than anything. Although, the confused stares he’d been getting from his staff all morning had been just a trifle embarrassing. Now, of course, he was getting looks on the bridge, too. He was tempted to just take a laser torch to the lock on the damn thing and cut it off, but he knew that it would hurt Malcolm’s feelings if he did.
They’d been together for a year now, and Trip was just starting to work past some of the blocks and barriers Malcolm had up around his heart. Taking off the bell, a tangible, audible, though somewhat silly expression of Malcolm’s love for him would, he was certain, cause a major setback. Trip could survive a little embarrassment for the greater good of their relationship.
Still, he was looking forward to the end of the day.
There. He was in his chair. Finally. Now, just swivel carefully to the right.
Jingle.
“Trip?” said Jonathan Archer, swivelling his own chair to face the engineering station. “What’s that sound?”
Trip heard the distinct sound of Hoshi stifling a giggle. Damn her. She was the one who’d suggested this, however flippantly, to Malcolm.
Last night, while celebrating Trip’s safe return to Enterprise after having been stranded on an inhospitable moon with a unfriendly, reptilian alien, Hoshi had commented on his propensity for getting into sticky situations.
“Yeah, Cap’n’s probably never gonna let me off the ship again,” he responded.
That’s when Hoshi had said it: the damning sentence. “Malcolm, you ought to put a bell around Trip’s neck, so you’ll always know where he is.”
Malcolm had done it, though, getting up early that morning and fastening the little bell on a rope chain around Trip’s neck while Tucker was still too sleepy to defend himself. The chain had been clasped with a tiny lock – to which Malcolm possessed the sole key.
Generally speaking, Malcolm wasn’t big on giving gifts, or making displays of affection. From what little he’d been able to pry out of the Englishman, Trip gathered that a couple of his early relationships had been with people Trip would normally term as users. Gifts had been either rejected as not good enough, or taken with distain. Too much affection was discouraged. Those lovely individuals had scarred Malcolm for life, making him an emotional cripple.
“Oh God, Malcolm… Yes, right there.”
Jingle.
“Feel good, then?”
“Uh huh.”
Jingle, jingle. Jing…
“That thing has got to come off. It’s too distracting.”
“Oh Malcolm, no…”
Trip gave a sobbing groan, laden with disappointment, as Malcolm slid out of him and off the bed. He lay limply on the mattress and watched his lover pad over to his desk. The Armoury Officer opened a small wooden box, pulling out a tiny key, and then returned to the bed. Trip eyed the smaller man’s ample erection, an angry purple-red in its hardness, licking his lips at the recent memory of having the succulent shaft in his mouth and squirming at the even fresher memory of it buried in his ass.
“Mal … come on.”
Malcolm unlocked the necklace, pulling it off of Trip and depositing it on the shelf above the bed. “There. Now, I can concentrate.”
Trip moaned happily as Malcolm resumed his position between his legs, sliding his dick back through Trip’s stretched sphincter. Malcolm threw himself back into his task of pleasuring Trip with a vengeance, and they both climaxed quickly.
They lay tangled together for a long while, utterly spent. Neither said a word, only communicating with languid touches to the other’s sweaty body. Eventually, though, Trip felt the need to speak.
“Don’t let me forget my necklace in the mornin’, Mal. I’m gonna put it in my keepsake box.”
Malcolm raised his head, looking at the blond in surprise. “You don’t have to keep it. Really, Trip. It was just a silly…”
“It was a gift. The first one you ever gave me. Course I’m gonna keep it. Sure … it was embarrassin’ as hell havin’ to walk around jinglin’ all day, but …” he shrugged, “it was kinda sweet, in a way. You risked the cap’n gettin’ pissed about it an’ makin’ you take it offa me. I know you … that was a major effort.”
Malcolm ducked his head, blushing. “I’m not that repressed, am I?”
“Yeah, you are, but I love you anyway.” Trip smiled and pulled Malcolm up for a kiss. “It’s a challenge gitt’n you to open up an’ do silly stuff. I like challenges.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment, is what you are. No doubt that’s why you get into so much trouble whenever you leave the ship. Did I mention that this latest escapade took at least ten years off my life?”
“I seem to recall somethin’ to that effect. I was scared, too, you know, thinkin’ I might die down there with some ugly alien instead of in my beautiful Malcolm’s arms.”
“I’m not beautiful.”
“Yes, you are.” He waggled a finger at his lover. “Don’t you argue with me, Mal.”
“You are crazy.”
“Kr-azy for you! Wanna song to prove it?”
“I’ve heard you sing, Trip. That won’t be necessary.”
Trip flung an arm across his forehead, clasping his other hand to his chest melodramatically. “Oh! You wound me.”
Trip smiled as Malcolm laughed at his antics. The Englishman positively glowed when he laughed like that, free and utterly unconstrained. It was something Trip didn’t see enough for his tastes, and it pleased him immensely that he was the only one who could make the smaller man literally helpless with laughter. It was a good feeling.
“I mean it, you know,” Trip said when Malcolm finally calmed down.
“Mmm… What?” Malcolm snuggled up to Trip’s side, letting his eyes drift shut in contentment.
“What I said earlier, ‘bout wantin’ to die in your arms. I really think you’re it for me, Mal. I couldn’t be happy with anybody else.
“Even if you do let Hoshi talk you into puttin’ bells ‘round my neck.”
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