Rating: NC-17
N.B.: Part Five of the Cleaning Anthology. There’s even something vaguely resembling a plot in this one. ~RB
Malcolm sorted through the mess on his desk and asked himself for the fifty-third time why he had allowed Trip to move the contents of his office into his own while the engineer’s was being remodelled. His own space had just been reorganised, after the drunken revelry of his husband’s Warp Six Project team had turned the place into a disaster area in dire need of a facelift.
He had used guilt to pressure Trip into agreeing that they should simply remodel the room, winning him a big bay window with a padded seat in place of the small window pane that had existed before. Malcolm loved his new décor. The walls were panelled with a warm oak, the bay window let in four times the amount of sunlight the old one had, and a new brown leather sofa sat on an equally new oriental rug in the centre of the room.
His weaponry had been lovingly remounted on the walls – this time in transparent aluminium display cases with humidity controls to prevent both rust and any more drunken duels in his space.
After his office had been finished, it was decided that they might as well work on Trip’s while they were at it. The engineer had wanted more work surfaces, so they were having long tables installed up against the walls around the room. Trip was also having a low-maintenance stone floor laid down, along with extra bright fluorescent lighting, and a newer, more powerful drafting computer.
Until it was finished, however, Trip’s PADDs, tools, old computer, and random bits of machinery were being stored in Malcolm’s office, pitching it back into chaos.
“Can’t say I have. Prob’ly buried under my stuff. I brought you some tea,” Trip smiled winningly, “why don’t you go sit in the window seat an’ drink it while I look for your PADD? I c’n organise some of my junk in the process.”
Still, something was missing. It had been gnawing at Malcolm, on and off, for months, and was creeping up on him again now. He hadn’t known what it was, at first, but it had been made painfully clear to him a few weeks ago when he’d met Hoshi for lunch.
The feeling had hit him then, full force, finally enabling him to identify it. He wanted a baby… and he was jealous. Hoshi had barely been married to her linguist husband for ten months when their baby was born. He had been married to Trip for five years, and they were still childless.
Sure, most of those five years had been on a starship, and even recently during a war, but they’d been on Earth for nearly a year and they hadn’t even discussed having a child. He knew that Trip had always planned on children at some point, but the man seemed so happy with the way things were, and Malcolm didn’t know how to broach the subject.
He felt ridiculous. Men weren’t supposed to get nesting urges. Reed men especially were not supposed to be subject to such soft sentiments.
“Mal?”
Trip’s voice startled Malcolm from his thoughts and he turned his head to look up into worried blue eyes.
“You okay, honey?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been starin’ out that window an awful long time. Your tea’s cold.”
He took the object from his husband and blinked when he saw the state of the room beyond him. It was much cleaner than it had been, with Trip’s boxes of stuff stacked neatly against the walls instead of scattered about the room. How long had he been wool-gathering anyway?
“You gonna tell me about it?” Trip asked, sitting next to him in the window.
“Tell you about what?”
“’Bout whatever’s got you lookin’ so glum.”
Malcolm just shrugged, and Trip reached out to caress his cheek. The loving touch was his undoing, and his resistance melted away.
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember what you told my mother … about having children?”
“Sure do.”
“Do you still mean it?”
“Do I still mean it? Course I do. Why?”
“Well,” Malcolm stared intently into the cold depths of his tea, “we’re settled now. Safe and stable with posts in R and D… I’d really like to… I mean what I’m trying to say is… Oh bollocks!”
“You want a baby.”
“What? Why didn’t you say something?”
Trip shrugged. “Guess I wanted you to bring it up so I could be sure we weren’t havin’ kids ‘cause you felt pressured into it. I mean, I wanted ‘em, but not at the expense of your happiness.”
“You’re wonderful, do you know that?” Malcolm set his mug down on the floor and then wrapped his arms around Trip. “I suppose we should start looking for a bio lab. I want our own children, and anyway, it could take years to find one to adopt.”
“No need, lover. I asked Phlox about good labs last time he was in town for a Starfleet Medical conference. He gave me the contact information for the best one. We c’n call ‘em Monday mornin’.”
“My, my, we are on top of things, aren’t we? Good. I want another Charles Tucker in my life as soon as it can be arranged.”
“Yes, very much so. You’ve always said you would like there to be a Charles Tucker the Fourth. We can name our second child for the both of us.”
“Second child?”
“Yes. Two seems a good number, don’t you agree? Though, we should get used to having one, first.”
“Anythin’ you want, Mal,” said Trip with a grin.
“Now, I was a good boy. Cleaned up my stuff wi’out bein’ told, an’ I’m gonna give you a baby, so why don’t you give me a reward?”
Malcolm arched into Trip’s touch as the Southerner’s hands began to roam his back. “And just what sort of reward had you in mind, Captain?”
“I was kinda hopin’ you’d let me worship this heavenly body of y’rs, Commander.”
“Here?”
“Why not?”
“Well, it is a window…”
“Ain’t nobody around.”
“What if someone comes to visit? They’ll be able to see us from the driveway.” Trip’s hands found his ass, kneading the firm globes of flesh through the fabric of his jeans, and he buried his face in his lover’s neck, turning the last word into a moan.
“Then they’ll git an eyeful an’ leave, knowin’ this ain’t a good time.” He sucked at Malcolm’s earlobe and slipped a hand inside the tight denim. Malcolm whimpered in response, and Trip grinned ferally. That sound always preceded his husband’s capitulation.
His decision was confirmed when Trip pulled him back up into the window seat, forcing him to straddle the blond’s lap. Malcolm melted into a passionate kiss from his husband, allowing him to further manipulate his body as he wished. He gasped when Trip guided the head of his cock to his entrance and moaned as he was slowly pushed down on it.
Once Trip was fully seated in him, they sat still for a moment, exchanging languid kisses, letting Malcolm’s muscles relax fully. When Malcolm’s body had become accustomed to the familiar length inside it, Trip repositioned the Englishman’s legs so that they wrapped around him, taking the stress off of them.
Still kissing one another, they began to rock in counterpoint to each other. Malcolm pushed down as Trip thrust upwards into him, lips never parting.
“Wow. Helluva way t’ break in y’r new window seat, Mal.”
“Mmm, yes. Just lovely.” He snuggled closer to his spent lover, drawing up his legs to better fit into the tight space. They were both sticky with his cum, but he wasn’t ready yet to trudge upstairs to shower off.
“Gonna keep me from comin’ … er, steppin’ into y’r office for a while, though.”
“How’s that?”
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“Hey, darlin’, lookin’ for somethin’?”
Malcolm looked up at his husband, who was leaning bonelessly against the door frame, a mug of steaming liquid in his hands. “My PADD of notes on the energy shielding I’ve been working on. Have you seen it?”
A nod, and Malcolm took the mug from Trip then shuffled over to the window, suddenly tired. Trip was a good husband. He always did thoughtful little things like this for him, and he was learning that a house needed more effort to keep clean than quarters on a starship. It was a slow process, but he was learning.
Malcolm Reed wanted children.
Hoshi had just given birth to she and her husband’s first child four months previously, and was enjoying her first day out on her own. She’d left her young daughter in her husband’s care while she socialised with her old friend, but had brought along numerous snapshots of the adorable little girl.
It was depressing. He’d never particularly wanted any sort of family, much less children, until he’d met Trip. Now that he did want them, he couldn’t find the courage to tell his mate … his partner about his desire.
Malcolm took a sip of his still full mug, grimacing as he discovered that it was, indeed, cold.
“I found your PADD.”
“Thank you, Trip.”
“Trip, I … I’ve been thinking. Do you remember when you met my parents?”
Malcolm looked up at his husband, nodding mutely.
“I’ve been waitin’ for you t’ ask, darlin’.”
Trip pulled back slightly, looking pleasantly surprised. “You wanna boy … and t’ name ‘im after me?”
Malcolm frantically unzipped first his jeans then Trip’s. He let Trip push his jeans and boxers off him, dropping them to the floor, and proceeded to tug his mate’s down just far enough to free the man’s eager cock. A few reverent kisses were bestowed upon the hard, purple shaft before Malcolm sucked the length into his mouth, drenching it with saliva. He knew that a blowjob was not what Trip wanted, however, and stopped when he deemed his lover’s phallus to be wet enough for his needs.
Their lovemaking was slow and sweet, and Malcolm wanted to cry when he couldn’t hold on any longer and went slipping over the edge into his orgasm. Trip followed right after him, swallowing his sobs with tender kisses.
“I’m gonna get hard every time I look out the window.”
