Luckily, the Armoury staff had cleared out at the first sign of the impending row between their chief and the commander, so there were no witnesses. Not that everyone on the ship didn’t already know that his friendship with the Southerner was well on its way toward being non-existent, but he preferred not to be humiliated publicly. As it was, Malcolm could barely remember the last time the captain had been willing to take them both on the same away-mission, things were getting so bad between them.

This particular interview seemed to be taking an inordinately long time, and it was causing him a recurrence of his stomach upset from that morning. He wished Tucker would just walk away from this little session the way he had walked away from their friendship.

“Have you been listenin’ to a word I’ve been sayin’, Lieutenant?!”

“Frankly, sir, no. And for your information, I knew exactly what I was doing when I diverted that power. It will make very little difference if we have warp five instead of four point eight if the ship doesn’t survive its next encounter with an anomaly.”

“Damn hull plating doesn’t do a thing against anomalies, and you know it. Only Trellium-D...”

“Which we can’t use because it would deprive you and the captain of your Vulcan comfort!”

Silence descended on them. Malcolm was mortified; he hadn’t meant to say that. Really, he hadn’t. It was just stress, anger, and yes, jealousy all catching up with him, but he couldn’t tell Tucker that.

“You insubordinate little sonovabitch,” Tucker ground out, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson than it had been earlier in the argument. “If we didn’t need every person we got right now, I’d bust your ass right outta the service for that.

“Right now, you’re gonna undo that power shunt. After that, you’re relieved of duty and confined to quarters until the captain decides what to do with you. Understood, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” With that, Tucker turned on his heel and strode out of the Armoury, leaving behind him a Malcolm Reed who was feeling even sicker than before.

“Captain, you weren’t there; you didn’t hear how he was sayin’ all that...”

Archer held up a hand to stop his engineer. “No, I wasn’t there, but I’ve seen you two fight before and I can imagine it well enough. However, it sounds to me more like a personal problem, and I think you need to work it out between yourselves. Without your rank getting in the way.”

“But what he did ... what he said... That wasn’t personal, that was j’st plain insubordinate.”

“First, he was right about the hull plating, Trip. Sometimes that’s all that keeps the ship from being shaken apart. I understand your problem with him not asking you first, but can you honestly tell me you would even have considered it if he had asked? Can you?” Trip kept a guilty silence, and Archer continued. “I didn’t think so. You’ve been picking at him for months now, is it really that surprising that he would do an end-run around your authority and then blow up when you call him on it?

“I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two, but I’m getting sick of it. If this keeps up you’re going to have a reprimand on your record.” Trip’s mouth automatically opened in protest, and Archer once again held up a hand to stop him, adding in a glare for good measure. “Like I said earlier, I’ve seen you two fight. I’ve also talked to people who have witnessed your fights when I haven’t been around. The greater part of them seem to get started because he tries to be considerate and you start sniping at him. Right now, I’m willing to say that the reasons why are none of my business, but if I don’t start seeing some improvements, I’m going to order you to tell me what’s going on, and then I’m going to have Phlox set up counselling sessions for you both. Together. Understood, Commander?”

Trip winced at the echo of his earlier words and nodded.

“Good. Malcolm’s probably done removing that shunt by now. Why don’t you go and reinstall it, then you can apologise to him. I’ll let him know that he’s not in any trouble.”

“At ease, Malcolm. Mind if I come in?” Archer smiled at him kindly and gestured at the interior of the room.

He was confused by Archer’s geniality. He had expected to be faced with stern disapproval, maybe even disappointment, but not this. Stepping aside, Malcolm let the captain in and tried to hide his discomfiture.

“I’m here to let you know that you can go back on duty. I had a talk with Trip about overreacting and not picking at you... He’s down reinstalling the power shunt to the hull plating. It was a good idea, just ... if you’ve got an idea like that again, and you don’t think Trip will give it a fair hearing, bring it by me first. That should forestall another incident like this.”

“Thank you, sir. I ... I’d still like to apologise.”

“You don’t need to do that, Malcolm. I know how Trip’s been and I know ... I know how you feel about him. It’s understandable that you’d lose it a bit.” Archer gave a strained chuckle and smiled again. “Just try not to let it happen too often.”

Malcolm stared at his commanding officer in shock. “You know...?” He looked away and moved to the edge of his bunk, seating himself on the edge of it. “That transparent, am I?”

“’Fraid so.” Archer shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “Probably the only person who hasn’t figured it out is Trip. Well, him and the MACOs. They don’t seem too in tune with the rest of the crew yet.”

Reed grimaced and asked in a pained voice, “What was it that gave me away?”

“How much you put up with from him. I’m probably stepping way over the line here,” he said, eyeing Malcolm with concern, “but you’ve been letting him treat you like shit lately.”

“He hasn’t been himself. I can hardly blame him for that, given the circumstances.”

Archer’s eyebrows beetled together as he watched his armoury officer suppress another grimace. “Maybe not, but you shouldn’t have to take the brunt of whatever foul mood he’s in, either.”

“It’s my fault. I can’t seem to leave him alone. He doesn’t want me or my sympathy, but I see him hurting, or tired and faltering, and I can’t help but reach out to help...” Malcolm looked up at his captain with a helpless expression, eyes wide, as if to implore him for understanding. “It just sets him off, and I don’t know why.”

“Neither do I.” Archer let his head drop and rubbed at the back of his neck with his right hand. When he looked up, he caught an expression of pain moving across Malcolm’s face as the man clutched at his abdomen. “Are you okay, Malcolm?”

“I’m fine. It’s just a stomach ache. From the stress, I think.”

“Maybe you should go see Phlox.”

“It’s nothing. I wouldn’t want to bother him.”

“I could order you to go.”

“Sir...”

Archer held up a placating hand. “How about a compromise? You take the rest of the day off, relax, and promise me you’ll go to Sickbay if it gets worse instead of better.”

“I suppose I shall have to agree.”

“Wise man.” He smiled and turned to leave Reed’s quarters. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Trip glanced up at him and said without preamble, “Thought you were gonna put Malcolm back on duty.”

“I was, but he wasn’t feeling well, so I made him stay in his quarters to rest.”

Concern flashed in blue eyes, and Trip frowned. “He’s sick?”

Archer shrugged. “He claims not, but I had him promise me he’d see Phlox if he felt worse.”

“That’s good.” Trip turned back to the console as if the conversation were over.

“Trip,” Archer huffed, trying to regain his engineer’s attention, “let someone else do that. I want you to go talk to Malcolm.”

“Now?” The Southerner looked up at his captain and pulled a face to show his displeasure.

“Yes, now, and stop that. It makes you look like a bratty two year-old.” He waited until Trip smoothed out his features and then continued with, “I want you two to talk sooner rather than later. You need to work this out, and right now he’s a captive audience. Go apologise. That’s an order.” Archer stared at Trip and pointedly moved out of the path between Tucker and the door, waiting for the man to comply.

Trip looked exasperated, but he called for Tanner to come finish up and left the ensign with an admonition to reengage the hull plating systems if the diagnostics turned out alright.

Trip punched the chime on Malcolm’s door and then hit it again when no response was forthcoming. That earned him a mumbled “enter,” and he palmed the door open, stepping inside.

Malcolm was sitting on the edge of his bunk, looking dishevelled, in uniform, but stocking-footed, presumably just woken from a nap. Trip noted the way the man had curled one arm around his midsection, letting his shoulders hunch, and felt some of his anger dissipate in favour of concern.

Still, he shuffled his feet and hesitated before speaking up. “I came here to apologise. I...”

“That’s alright, Commander,” interrupted Reed. “You don’t need to do that.”

The interruption irritated Trip, and he replied with some heat, if no tact. “That’s not what the captain says.”

Reed flinched at that. “If he asks, I’ll tell him you apologised. I’ll also promise to leave you alone.”

“Leave me alone?”

“Yes. It’s become rather ... obvious that you no longer wish for my company. I promise that I will do better at respecting your wishes on the matter in the future.”

“No longer..?” Trip squinted at Malcolm and stuck his hands on his hips. “Where the hell’d you git that stellar notion?”

Malcolm stiffened defensively, lips thinning as his ire rose, and his voice cracked slightly as he spat out his reply. “It’s not as if I’ve never been rejected before. I think I can tell when I’m not wanted. I’m not about to be fooled into thinking otherwise just because the captain feels sorry for me and has ordered you to make nice.”

Trip opened his mouth to reply, but he didn’t manage to get anything out before the ship shuddered and bucked, throwing him to the floor. He was just beginning to leaver himself up when the tell-tale bulging distortion of an anomaly rippled through the room.

Malcolm had been getting to his feet at that moment, either to comm. the bridge or head out the door, Trip wasn’t sure, and was thrown to the deck as well. When he hit, he curled in on himself, moaning in pain. Trip got to his friend the fastest way he could: he dropped back to the floor and rolled.

“Malcolm! Shit. Malcolm, what’s wrong?” Trip propped himself up on one arm and started fussing over the other man.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Reed gasped out, batting Trip’s hand away weakly.

“Fine, my ass! Have you been throwin’ up?”

“Once,” Malcolm admitted grudgingly. “Why?”

“Your breath doesn’t smell too good. Captain said you promised him you’d see Phlox if you felt worse. Why haven’t you gone?”

“It wasn’t worse. The pain’s been steadier the last half-hour or so, but not really worse.”

“Don’t you play word games with me, Malcolm. You’re sick, and we’re gonna go see Phlox about it, right now.” It wasn’t until Trip had managed to hoist Malcolm to his feet that he discovered that they weren’t going anywhere.

The anomaly had melted the door into the rest of the bulkhead. They were trapped.

At the moment, the Englishman was curled up on his bunk, eyes squeezed shut, looking generally miserable. Since they’d been trapped, Malcolm’s abdominal pain had increased, and the man refused to move, even to drink water, because it became even worse when he did.

Shifting in his spot on the floor at the head of Malcolm’s bed, Trip looked up at the other man. He looked worse than the last time Trip had checked on him, his face slightly flushed, and his hair curling damply at his temple. A quick press of the back of his hand to the brunet’s forehead revealed that he was running a low temperature. Then, almost of its own volition, the hand moved to smooth across the other man’s pain-furrowed brow.

Malcolm’s shallow breathing hitched, and he pried one eye open to stare at Trip. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“What? Check your temperature?” he asked, trying to bluff his way past the truth as he casually removed his hand.

“Touch me with such tenderness.”

Trip opened his mouth to protest and closed it again without saying anything, staring down at where his hands were now tangled together in his lap. He wasn’t certain how much of the pain in Malcolm’s expressive eyes was caused by his physical malady and how much was caused by him, but he couldn’t bear to see it either way.

“It just confuses me,” Malcolm continued. “Most of the time, you act like you can barely stand to look at me, and then ... then you’ll touch me and it’s gentle, tender, almost...” his breath hitched again, and he finished in a voice just above a whisper, “loving.”

Trip looked back up at that, eyes stinging suspiciously. He took a deep breath and gathered himself to spill out all of the things he’d been feeling the past few months, letting Malcolm try to sort through it all for an explanation. Unfortunately, the next voice that sounded in the room didn’t belong to him.

“Archer to Tucker. Trip, can you hear me?”

“Shit.” Trip clambered to his feet and darted over to the comm. unit to open the line. “Yeah, Captain. I can hear ya.”

“Are you and Malcolm okay? According to sensors, the worst of the anomalies passed through your section of B-deck.”

“That didn’t hurt us any. But Captain, Malcolm’s sick as a dog, and the door’s fused shut. Couldja send somebody to torch it open, so I can take ‘im to Sickbay?”

There was a pause, long enough for Trip to begin wondering if the comm. had cut out again, before Archer answered him. “That’s not going to be possible for a while yet, Trip. Most of the corridor in that section is blocked, and the debris the crews have seen so far is fused like Malcolm’s door. It’s going to take some time before we can get it cleared that far.”

Trip fought down a wave of near panic. “What about the transporter? Couldja get him outta here with that?”

“No go, Trip. The transporter’s offline. You’re just going to have to do your best to keep Malcolm comfortable until the crews get to you. I’ll tell them to make it a priority.”

He stole a glance at the miserable lieutenant and leaned against the wall. “You do that, Captain, but I don’t know what I can do for Malcolm. He’s pretty sick.”

“Would you like to talk to Phlox? I can have Hoshi put him on the line.”

“I’d appreciate that, sir.”

“Okay. Hang on a sec.”

“Sure.”

“Phlox here, Commander. What seems to be the problem?”

“I was kinda hopin’ you could tell me that, Doc.”

“Why don’t you describe Mister Reed’s symptoms to me, and I’ll see what I can figure out.”

Trip quickly outlined Malcolm’s symptoms for the doctor and then waited anxiously for a reply.

“Abdominal pain, you say? Can he pinpoint a locus of the pain, or is it diffuse?”

“Uh... I dunno.”

“Could you ask him, perhaps? Pressing the area gently may help him determine if a particular spot is, in fact, more painful than others.”

“Okay. Hold on.” Trip closed the line and moved back to Malcolm. “Hey, you catch all that?”

One blue eye slit open. “Yes. It was diffuse; now it’s more localised.”

“Localised where?”

“Right side.”

“I think Phlox is gonna want something more concrete than that, Mal.”

“I can’t be more concrete. All I know is that it hurts.”

“Do you think that maybe ... maybe you could roll over on your back, so I can do that pressing thing?”

Malcolm just stared at him for a moment, then rolled onto his back without a word, stretching his legs out stiffly.

Trip kneeled next to the bunk with an apprehensive expression. “J’st holler if it hurts,” he said, touching his fingers lightly to a spot just left of Malcolm’s right hip bone and pressing. He repeated the process until he reached the midpoint of the other man’s abdomen without incident, then moved his fingers up a bit and worked his way back. Malcolm made no sound until he hit a point along the line between the hip and navel.

“Ouch! There. Now, stop it.” Malcolm swatted Trip’s hand away and curled back into the foetal position.

Rising, Trip dutifully made his way back to the comm. panel. “Hey, Doc, you there?”

“Yes, Commander. Go ahead.”

“It hurts him on the right side, kinda between his belly button and hip.”

“Hmmm...”

“What?”

“I can’t say for certain, of course, but it’s possible that Mister Reed is suffering from appendicitis.”

“What!?”

“Don’t worry, Commander. He’ll be fine so long as it doesn’t rupture before he can be brought to Sickbay. There’s even a chance that the situation will resolve itself.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Well, make sure you contact me if the pain becomes diffuse again. That’s an indication that the appendix has ruptured. Otherwise, keep him hydrated and comfortable. Phlox out.”

“Keep ‘im comfortable,” he muttered to himself. “Why does ev’rybody keep sayin’ that?”

“I suppose you’d hit me if I said that I just want you to go away.”

Trip jerked back as if he had been struck. “I’d never hit you.”

“Oh that’s right,” the Englishman sneered, “you prefer to inflict emotional rather than physical harm. What will it be this time? Will you cast aspersions on my ability to do my job? Attack my honour? Tell me what an utterly worthless human being I am? Don’t you think I know that already?”

“Malcolm... I ... I...” Trip paled and cast about for something to say. Something that would fix this.

“Forget it. Forget I said anything.” Malcolm turned over on his bunk to face the wall. Little tremors ran through his frame, and he couldn’t mask the sound of the occasional sniff as he desperately tried to blink back tears.

Trip stood, rooted to the spot for a few moments, before taking a juddering step toward the bunk and crashing to his knees next to it. He reached out, laying a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, and the man sobbed once. Feeling the trembling of Malcolm’s body and recalling what the Englishman had said earlier about his touch, Trip decided that he should show him how he felt.

He kicked off his boots and clambered up onto the bed behind Malcolm, spooning their bodies together. Trip draped one arm over Malcolm and held him close. After rubbing his cheek against the silky chocolate-brown hair, he tucked Malcolm’s head under his chin.

“I’m so sorry, Malcolm. I never mean to blow up at you like I do. There’s just so much, so many emotions inside me, all tryin’ to get out at once... I spend all my energy workin’ at keepin’ ‘em contained. I go to T’Pol and let her poke at me every night so I can sleep, so I won’t lose control. It scares me, how much I feel. Then you come along and you’re like a match to my tinder. It’s like ignitin’ dynamite with a laser beam. I just explode.

“You’ve always done that to me, you know. ‘Cept before ... before there wasn’t all this other shit gettin’ in the way of how I felt about you.”

Malcolm carefully turned over in Trip’s embrace, pulling back just far enough to look into the Southerner’s sky-blue eyes. “How you feel about me?”

“Um...” Trip cast his eyes downward. “I know I don’t have any right to say this, but I love you. Have for a while.”

Pinched with pain as the Englishman’s face was, and as shadowed as his usually expressive eyes were, Trip couldn’t tell how Malcolm was taking his admission. Eventually, the man spoke, but it didn’t immediately illuminate his thoughts for Trip.

“Why do you say that you have no right to tell me you love me?”

“Malcolm, I’ve been an ass!”

“Granted, but don’t you think I might want to forgive you for that one of these days?” He did his best to give Trip a reassuring smile. “Knowing you love me gives me an excuse.”

“But ... but I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.”

“Maybe that’s your problem, Trip. Maybe you need to let yourself believe that you do deserve those things, that you deserve to move on with your life. And personally, I think you deserve so much more than me.”

“Don’t say that, Malcolm. Nobody deserves more than you. You’re a brilliant, talented man with a beautiful soul,” Trip paused, grinning to lighten the heavy atmosphere, “and a heavenly body. No one could do better than havin’ you warmin’ their bed and their life. No one.”

Malcolm squirmed closer to Trip, tucking his head back under the blond’s chin, pressing his face to the broad chest. “I’ll warm your bed and life for the rest of my life, if you’ll let me,” he murmured. “I love you, Trip Tucker. Even when you’re being an ass.”

“See,” said Trip hugging Malcolm, “I don’t deserve you. Nobody else would have forgiven me for the way I’ve been actin’.”

“The captain has.”

“The captain hasn’t been on the receivin’ end of most of this. I think he’s been seriously considerin’ givin’ me a solid spankin’ over it, though.”

Malcolm laughed at that, regretting it immediately as it caused the pain in his gut to increase. He sucked in a hissing breath and pressed his forehead harder against Trip. “Damn. Have to remember not to do that. Still, that was an amusing image.”

Trip snorted. “So long as you don’t think it’s a turn-on, you be amused as you like.”

“A turn-on? You and the captain?” Malcolm shuddered. “No, I don’t think so. If you’re to be mine, then you’re going to be mine. I never was very good at sharing my toys. Nor have I ever particularly cared for spectator sports.”

Trip chuckled a bit and then grew serious as a thought occurred to him. “Say, Malcolm? This whole no sharing thing ... it makes me think. Are you gonna be okay with my neuro-pressure sessions with T’Pol? I mean, it seems like you’ve maybe been a little jealous.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well, I dunno. It’s been helpin’ me sleep, but I haven’t tried sleepin’ without a session first in a while. It might be that I’m past needin’ ‘em. Of course,” Trip grinned and nuzzled into Malcolm’s hair a little, “once you’re better, maybe you could find a way of wearin’ me out so I can sleep.”

A chuckle escaped Malcolm, and he hissed in pain again. “Stop making me laugh. It hurts.” He sighed as the pain settled back to its previous level. “I would love to help you sleep without needing to resort to Vulcan neuro-pressure. That way I won’t need to be jealous, and the captain won’t need to be jealous...”

“The captain? Why’d he be jealous?”

“Oh, come on, Trip. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at her, and she at him? They’ve definitely got a thing going on between them. A low-level, unrequited thing, unless I miss my guess,” he conceded, “but a thing nonetheless.”

“Are you shittin’ me? The captain and T’Pol?”

“The captain and T’Pol,” he confirmed. “Why else would she give up her commission to stay on Enterprise? Surely you’ve seen how intensely loyal to him she’s become. And you should have seen how ... patient, I guess, he was with her back on that Vulcan ship, while she was going mad.”

“Well, I’ll be. I’m gonna have t’ start watchin’ them together. Kinda indiscreet of you to bring it up, though,” Trip joked gently.

“Turnabout is fair play. He brought up my feelings for you earlier.”

“He did? How’d he know?”

“He claimed that everyone knew, save for you and the MACOs. Of course, now you know, which rather leaves the special forces out in the cold.”

“Everyone?” Trip sounded astonished.

“Yes, dear. Everyone. Apparently, I’ve been quite transparent.”

“Not to me,” replied Trip, still sounding a bit bewildered.

“I’d noticed that.”

Malcolm’s tone was sardonic, and Trip responded by hugging him and planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Sorry. Somethin’ else you can chalk up t’ me bein’ an oblivious bone-head.”

“A self-centred, oblivious bone-head.”

“Ouch. Guess I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did. I am, however, willing to forgive you, if only because my other option consists of sending you away and being miserable for the rest of my life.”

“You sure you won’t be miserable for the rest of your life ‘cause you decided t’ keep me around?” Trip quipped.

“It’s up to you to make certain I’m not, now isn’t it?” Malcolm snuggled against Trip, trying to squirm into a position that kept the pain in his abdomen to a minimum. “Now, be quiet for a while, and let me try to sleep. All of this has left me positively knackered.”

“Sure thing, darlin’. Whatever you want.”

“That’s the spirit, Mister Tucker,” Malcolm mumbled, patting Trip’s chest. “Just remember that phrase; I expect you’ll be using it quite a lot from now on.”

Granted, it had been a pretty close thing. The clean-up crews managed to free them and get Malcolm to Sickbay before his appendix burst, but only just before, according to Phlox. Another fifteen minutes and he would have had a real problem to deal with. As it was, Phlox performed a simple appendectomy, and two days later Malcolm was back overworking himself, helping out with repairs.

And what a lot of repairs there were. No critical systems had been damaged, but there were a million and one smaller repairs to be made, not to mention the scattering of doors that needed to be replaced on B-deck. Still, it was worth it just to be able to fall into Malcolm’s arms every night and have his worries kissed away. Trip had also found that being able to give free rein to one strong emotion helped him deal with the others that continued to bubble to the surface. With his love out in the open, there wasn’t as much jostling around inside of him, and he no-longer felt so much like a pressure-cooker that was ready to explode.

At the moment, he was finishing up for the day, preparing to hand-off Engineering and the repair schedule to Lieutenant Hess and the rest of the beta shift. No sooner than he placed the PADD in her hands, did he hear someone shout his name from the hatchway.

“Trip!”

“Yeah, Captain?”

“You ready for dinner? I heard a rumour that Chef’s fixed steak.”

“J’st headed out now, but I won’t be joinin’ you and T’Pol tonight. Malcolm and I are havin’ dinner in his quarters to ah ... celebrate his new door.”

Archer gave him a sceptical look. “To celebrate his new door?”

“Yup.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Trip. The door.”

“Yeah, well...” Trip blushed lightly and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’d best get goin’. I promised I’d be there by quarter-after, and it’s already twelve-past. Malcolm hates it when I’m late. You and T’Pol have a nice dinner. I’ll catch ya later.” He ducked past the captain and darted out into the corridor before the man could continue the conversation.

He did, however, think he heard Archer laugh and say, “You are so whipped, Trip Tucker.”

“Smells great in here, Mal. What’s for dinner?”

“Steak, mashed potatoes, and a green salad.” Malcolm watched in perplexed fascination as Trip burst into laughter. “What?”

“That’s what the captain thought he was gettin’!”

A smirk twisted his lips and he replied, “Yes, well... I did have to promise Chef our firstborn in order to get this dinner for us. Unless, of course, we can guess his real name before the baby is born.”

Trip’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Huh?”

“That was a joke, love.”

“Oh.”

Malcolm shook his head. “Never mind. Seriously though, the captain and T’Pol will be sharing a lovely vegetarian lasagne this evening.”

Pale eyebrows climbed into blond hairline. “You are a terrible man.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a hopeless romantic.”

Trip just snorted.

“Keep that up and you won’t get any dessert.”

“What’s for dessert?” he asked, a lascivious grin spreading across his face.

“Crème filled pastries,” was the equally lascivious reply.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Oh yeah.” Trip sighed in contentment, mashing his face into the bunk’s pillow. He enjoyed the feel of Malcolm’s weight on his back, and though the sheets beneath him were turning cold and clammy, he wasn’t convinced that he wanted to move ever again.

“We really ought to get up, you know,” said Malcolm, echoing his thoughts. “At least long enough to change the bed and clean off a little. I love you dearly, but I don’t really want to sleep in your cum all night.”

“I suppose... You gotta get up first, though.”

“Right.”

“Malcolm?”

“Hmm?”

“You gonna get up?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When I can get my poor, sated body to respond.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Trip?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to do this again tomorrow night, aren’t we?”

Trip’s mouth stretched into a grin against the pillow. “Sure thing, darlin’. Whatever you want.”