Beta: shakespearespot
N.B.: I was trying to resist the urge to write a turbolift piece, but then I noticed that fellow slash author Kipli claims, in her author’s note to “Easing Tensions,” that all Trek authors must do a turbolift fic at some point. Who am I to argue?
Rating: NC-17
Part three of my “Moulin Rouge!” series. Title is from the song, “Meet Me in the Red Room.” I seem to have temporarily misplaced my cutaway of the Enterprise, so the deck labelling might be a bit off.
This fic first appeared in the fanzine Gettin’ From There to Here, Issue 2. ~RB
“Aww, shit,” said Commander Charles “Trip” Tucker III as the turbolift he and his lover, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, were currently occupying ground to a halt between decks, lights flickering out as well. “Tucker to Engineerin’.”
“Hess here. What can I do for you, Commander?”
“Well, Maggie, Lieutenant Reed and I are stuck in a dark turbolift between A-deck and the bridge. I was kinda hopin’ you could do somethin’ to get us movin’ again.”
“You’re trapped in a dark turbolift with Lieutenant Reed? And you’re complaining, Sir?”
“Very funny, Maggie. Do you s’ppose I could get a time estimate here?”
“Umm... well, two other lifts are out, as well as the lights on decks A, B, and the bridge. We think it’s the EPS relays on those decks... The bridge is obviously our priority at the moment. I’d give it and hour, two at the most.”
“Two hours!”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, but I’m sure you understand. Hess out.”
“She j’st hung up on me! All the nerve...”
“Why do I get the feeling we’ve just been moved to the bottom of the list?”
“’Cause my staff is populated by imps whose idea of a prime joke is ‘let’s leave the Commander trapped in a turbolift with his new boyfriend and see what happens?’ Two hours! Bet you anything it’ll be more like three.”
“Sorry, Mister Tucker. No bet. Should we let the captain know what’s happened to us, or do you suppose Lieutenant Hess has already informed him?”
“Knowin’ Maggie, she prob’ly has. Knowin’ Jon, he prob’ly found it highly entertainin’. Bet they’re all sittin’ up there gigglin’ at us.”
“T’Pol won’t be.”
“No, but she never does giggle so she hardly counts.”
“I suppose not.”
“Hmm, now what d’ya s’ppose we should do to pass the time? After all my staff is doin’ to make sure we get some quality time together, we really oughtta make the most of it. Don’t ya think?” Fingers dancing across Malcolm’s chest, he found the zipper toggle to the man’s uniform and pulled it down slowly. He reached inside to fondle Malcolm through the fabric of his regulation boxer-briefs, and the Englishman finally found his voice again.
“Triiip... We are in a turbolift. Don’t you think this is rather ... inappropriate?”
“Propriety is highly overrated, lover.”
“Damn it, Trip! I’m seriouurrrmmffff...” Trip stopped Malcolm’s protest by the simple expedient of claiming his mouth with his own and doing his damnedest to shove his tongue down the shorter man’s throat. One hand clutched in soft hair while the other continued to stroke Malcolm’s hardening organ, and Trip could feel the other man’s resistance begin to melt.
The kiss ended, and Trip pulled back slightly to ask, “Still think we should play the model officers?”
Malcolm squirmed under his touch and growled, “Have it your way. But you get to explain away the mess when we get to the bridge.”
“Who said anythin’ ‘bout leavin’ a mess?”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see.”
On his knees before his lover now, Trip stroked lazily up and down the man’s sides. He managed to coax another hiccuping gasp from Malcolm by blowing lightly over the length of his erect phallus, moving the stream of air up as his fingers ghosted down his flanks. It wasn’t enough, though, and Trip finally said, “Malcolm darlin’, don’t hold back. Let me hear you. I can’t see you, so you’re gonna hafta tell me when somethin’s good for you.”
“I-I’ll try. God, Trip, for you I’d try anything.”
“Good. Now, how’s this?” Trip bent his head and nipped the sensitive flesh on the inside of Malcolm’s thigh.
“Trip!” The exclamation turned into a shuddering moan as the Southerner’s tongue snaked up his penis from base to tip. In another moment, Trip took the length into his mouth, holding Malcolm’s hips in place as he tried to thrust up into the inviting warmth. “Oh God, Trip, yesss!”
His questing finger hit the sensitive nub, and Malcolm screamed inarticulately. Trip slipped another finger in, stretching the tight opening even as he swallowed the seed being pumped into his mouth. Malcolm’s knees were buckling, and when Trip had milked the organ dry and it lay flaccid in his mouth, he lowered his love to the floor.
“Not over yet, lover boy.” Trip stood and, gently as he could, guided Malcolm’s head to his own achingly hard shaft. “Best slick it up.” Malcolm’s mouth and tongue felt incredibly good on him, but he had other plans for the organ than coming in the Armoury Officer’s mouth, and he told him to stop as soon as he judged there to be a sufficient amount of saliva coating it. Trip pulled Malcolm to his feet and kissed him hard before saying, “Wrap y’r legs around my waist when Ah lift ya.”
Grabbing on to his lover, Trip hoisted him off the ground, and muscular legs encircled him, holding on tightly. Using the wall to help support the smaller man’s weight, he spread Malcolm open with one hand and used the other to guide himself inside. The sensation was intense, and he knew that he would not last long as he slowly lowered Malcolm until he was fully sheathed in the beloved body.
“Trriiip... Oh, you feel so good.” Malcolm had his arms clutched around his shoulders, and his breath tickled his ear as he spoke.
Turning away from the wall, Trip wrapped his own arms around Malcolm and managed to grunt out, “Hang on, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.” Trip bounced Malcolm up and down, thrusting up to meet him each time the artificial gravity pulled him back down. As predicted, he didn’t last long, filling his lover with his seed before the man’s renewed erection could harden more than a bit.
“Remind me,” Malcolm murmured, “to thank Doctor Phlox for patching up your ribs so nicely and, should we ever meet them again, the Kayeklopes for kidnapping you in the first place and giving you that concussion that tricked you into admitting you love me. Whatever else they did, I’m indebted to them for that.”
“S’ it was good fer you, too, eh?”
“Mmm hmmm. Love you, Trip Tucker.”
“Love you, too, Malcolm Reed.”
“Now, how about we put our clothes back on before we fall asleep so that we’re moderately presentable when this lift starts to work again and deposits us on the bridge?”
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
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Even though Trip couldn’t see Malcolm’s face, he knew his lover must be smiling because he could hear the pleasant sound of the man’s throaty chuckle.
Irritation was replaced by boredom, and after a few minutes Trip took a step toward the sound of Malcolm’s voice, reaching out blindly for him. His hand connected with a familiar bicep, which he began to caress, stepping closer yet. His lips found his lover’s neck, which he began to kiss, working his way up to one delicately formed earlobe.
Trip made quick work of both of their uniforms, piling them carefully on the other side of the lift. Pressing Malcolm up against the wall of the turbolift car, he planted another kiss on his lips and moved to nibble along his jaw. Trip worked his way down his lover’s body, mouth trailing from his neck to his chest, pausing to suck at the hard nub of one nipple before continuing on down to the flat planes of his stomach. All the while his hands roamed freely over Malcolm’s skin, drawing the occasional moan which Malcolm couldn’t quite hold back.
That was the last coherent thing Trip heard out of his lover for a while as he concentrated on pleasuring him orally. He still found the little sobs and wordless moans that the man was emitting extremely arousing, and his own erection throbbed in response. Satisfied that he could control Malcolm’s helpless thrusting with one well placed hand, Trip moved the other to his ass and began to tease at the opening there. Head bobbing rhythmically, Trip slowly inserted a finger into his lover’s body, seeking out his prostate.
“Trip, that was ... incredible.”
Leaning back, Trip slid down the wall. He settled on the floor with Malcolm in his lap, his softened penis still in his lover’s body. Spent as he was, he was totally disinclined to move and just held Malcolm, bestowing the occasional lazy kiss on him.
