The throb in Malcolm's ribs was constant, but he pushed it aside as he listened to the raucous celebrations of the crew who still filled the Mess Hall, even hours after they'd been informed that the Enterprise would be continuing her five year mission of exploration. If the Suliban had hoped to break the humans' spirit, they had failed utterly. It gave the Tactical Officer a warm feeling of pride to know he was privileged enough to serve with these men and women.
'...No, please...!'
He blinked and shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory that kept playing over and over through his mind.
'...I don't know who... I swear it...!'
The steak on his plate was bloody and red, and parted easily under his knife as he stabbed a fork into the rare cut, shoveling the bite into his mouth and forcing himself to chew, slowly and thoroughly.
It had been so easy. Too easy, really. So very, very easy to sing like a mockingbird as the Suliban played his ribs like a timpani. Half an hour Trip had told him. Had he even lasted that long? Or had the echoes of the temporal cold war robbed him of even the most basic ability to measure the span between his own heartbeats?
Stab. Cut. Chew. Ache.
Stab. Cut. Chew. Ache.
"Easy there, Malcolm. It's already dead. You don't gotta kill it again."
Malcolm closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather himself, before he was joined at his table by an unreasonably ebullient Charles "Trip" Tucker III. The engineer had piled his own plate high with steak, potatoes, and sugar snap peas, along with a generous helping of peach cobbler.
"Commander," Malcolm greeted, nodding in acknowledgement as the other man settled into the seat across from him.
"Dammit, Mal, we're off duty. Call me Trip, would ya?" There was no venom in the chipper Southerner's voice, but his words and convivial tone dragged a razor down Reed's spine. "I saw you sittin' over here all by your lonesome like a little gray raincloud, so I thought I'd drop in and check on ya." The engineer finished spreading a napkin over his lap and took up his knife and fork. "How're you feelin'?"
Malcolm managed a tight smile. "I'm fine."
"Yeah? Cuz you look like hell." Trip gestured to the bruises that mottled Reed's face. "Did you see Phlox?"
"Yes, of course I did." Malcolm hadn't meant to sound quite so acidic. He stuffed another bite of steak into his mouth and hoped the other man wouldn't notice his tone.
No such luck. "'Sat right?" Trip mused, picking up a pea pod and snapping into it as he watched the Tactical officer with a knowing gaze.
"Yes. He stitched me up, gave me an analgesic for the pain. I'm right as rain."
Trip nodded slowly, and Reed fought the urge to shift uncomfortably in his seat under the other man's scrutiny. The third in command had a terrible habit of seeing through every one of the Armory officer's well-constructed shields.
"It's been so nutty around here, I didn't get a chance to thank ya," Trip said eventually, turning his attention back to his meal. Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief internally as he ceased to be the object of the other man's interest. "What ya did, getting that whatchamacallit into the Suliban's hands so the cap'n could come back to 22nd? That was damn brave."
Malcolm's knife squealed against his plate as he cut down too hard. "It was only my duty," he responded, not daring to raise his eyes, knowing that the other man would see everything if he looked up. "It had to be done."
"Still, not a lot of folks would be able to do it and sell it like you did, Mal," Trip went on. His tone was modulated; even. Like he was talking to a skittish animal. Malcolm felt the insane urge to bark with laughter. "It took guts. Thank you."
"I assure you, Commander, it was not brave or gutsy in the slightest. It was a job that needed doing, and now it's done." His hands were shaking, so he set down his knife and fork and took up his napkin to hide the tremors from the engineer.
"Malcolm-"
"Is anyone sitting here?"
Reed's stomach bunched into a ball of ice. Oh God, not her, too... Please not her...
"Sure thing, Hoshi, grab a seat," Trip acknowledged, gesturing for the petite Communications officer to join them.
The scent of lillies and rainwater settled into the chair to Malcolm's left, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the slender linguist as she set her tray on the table. "I see Chef pulled out all the stops for dinner tonight," Hoshi remarked. "Steak, salmon, cobbler, cheesecake..."
"It's a celebration!" Trip agreed, raising his glass of dark ale and clinking it against Hoshi's glass of iced tea with lemon. "To the fine men and women of the starship Enterprise: long may she fly."
"I'll drink to that," Hoshi concurred, bringing her glass to her lips. Malcolm watched from the corner of his eye as her throat worked and felt his mouth go dry.
"I've got to be going," he heard himself say, and was standing up before he even knew what he was doing.
"What? But you haven't even finished yer dinner!" Tucker argued, gesturing to the other man's half-eaten steak.
"At least stay for dessert, Lieutenant," Hoshi prompted, and Malcolm found himself staring into her luminous brown eyes, frozen and petrified.
The throb of his ribs intensified as his pulse picked up, and he used the pain to break the spell that held him immobile. "I'm afraid I've not got the appetite, Ensign," he said, pleased with how easily the words came. "I think I'm going to turn in a bit early."
"Oh. Well... goodnight, Lieutenant."
"Goodnight, Ensign. Commander."
It felt good to walk away from the table; a small victory, but victory nonetheless. He could almost pretend he didn't feel their eyes on his back - appraising, judging - as he tipped his leftovers into the protein resequencer and palmed his way through the Mess Hall door.
Coward, he ranted internally.
Yes, he agreed.
Hoshi hovered outside Lieutenant Reed's cabin door and fretted.
There was clearly something wrong with him. Everyone on the ship was cheerful and excited, buoyed by the news that Starfleet hadn't caved to the Vulcan's demands to cut Enterprise's mission short.
Everyone, that is, but Malcolm Reed.
He'd been so... withdrawn at dinner. Admittedly he was never exactly Mr. Chatty, but she'd come to appreciate his dry sense of humor and witty remarks. A meal with him and Commander Tucker always proved amusing; they were like chalk and cheese together. But even the Commander had noticed that the Armory officer wasn't his usual self.
"He's got something going through that damn fool head of his," the engineer had remarked after Reed had disappeared through the Mess Hall door. "I don't know what it is, but I don't like it. Knowin' him, he's probably thinkin' he shoulda died in the line of duty instead of just gettin' kicked around by a couple Suliban. Like gettin' the crap beat out of him isn't enough."
"Do you think he's going to be okay?" she'd asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from someone else, too.
Tucker just shook his head. "With Malcolm, it's anybody's guess. Damn Reed men and their damn pride."
That's how she found herself here, hovering in the corridor outside the Tactical officer's door, his freshly laundered t-shirt neatly folded in her arms. It seemed as good an excuse as any to pay the taciturn Englishman a visit.
Steeling herself, Hoshi reached out and touched the door chime.
There was no answer.
She frowned and tapped it again.
Still no answer.
Maybe he'd really gone to bed after all. That honestly hadn't even occurred to her, and she felt like a complete heel. The last thing he needed was to be woken out of a dead sleep by a flighty ensign who just thought he might perhaps maybe need a friendly ear and a shoulder to lean on.
She had just decided to leave and try again later when she heard the lock disengage and the door slid open. "Hoshi?"
Lieutenant Reed stood framed in the doorway, his hair slightly mussed and his eyes squinting against the bright light of the corridor. He was obviously confused to see her.
She frowned as she took in his bruised face. In the harsh light of the hallway the bruises stood out dark and livid. "I wanted to return your shirt," she said lamely, holding up the item in question. "May I come in?"
He blinked a few times, then stood aside and gestured for her to step inside.
"Thanks." Stepping across the threshold, she couldn't suppress a shiver as she remembered being in the same room less than a day before, two unconscious Suliban at her feet.
"Are you cold?"
"Hmm?" She looked up and saw him watching her.
"You were shivering."
"Oh. No, I'm fine. Just... thinking about things."
A small smile curled one corner of his mouth. "It's a dangerous habit. Thinking about things. It can take you all kinds of dark places."
She smiled in return, but realized she didn't really think it was very funny.
He reached for the shirt, and she saw him wince. "Thank you, Ensign. I'm glad I was able to be of service."
"Are you okay, Lieutenant?" Hoshi asked, letting him take the shirt.
"Yes, of course. Perfectly fine, Ensign."
"Did you see Dr. Phlox?"
"Mr. Tucker asked me the same thing. I'm beginning to think I have a sign over my head saying 'Ask this man if he went to Sickbay.'" He yanked open his locker, adding the t-shirt back to the pile of similar gear already stowed away. "As I told him, yes, I went to see the good doctor. He patched me up and sent me on my way. No need to worry."
He'd changed out of his uniform and was wearing a drab green t-shirt and a pair of regulation sweats. As he reached to put away the shirt she'd returned his sleeves rode up, and Hoshi felt her stomach clench when she saw the five-fingered handprint bruised into his bicep.
"Oh God, that must hurt like hell," she said, reaching for him without thinking and resting her hand lightly on his arm.
He pulled away from her as though she'd touched him with a cattle prod. "I'm fine," he snapped.
A sudden flare of anger unfurled in Hoshi's stomach. "Would you stop saying that? You're not fine! You look like you went ten rounds with a grizzly bear." She crossed her arms. "Take your shirt off."
Malcolm looked affronted. "I beg your pardon?"
"Your shirt. Take it off. I want to know what other bumps and bruises you're hiding from everyone."
"Ensign, this is highly inappropriate."
"Stuff it, Malcolm. We're off duty and you're not my superior right now. You're my friend, and I'm going to make sure you're okay before I leave this cabin." Her face softened a little. "Consider it payback. You saw me without my shirt already. Now it's my turn."
He hesitated, and for a minute she thought he was going to refuse. Then, very slowly, he crossed his arms over his torso and hooked his fingers into the hem of his t-shirt. "I'm doing this under protest," he grumbled.
"I'll make a note in my personal log. Off with it."
Malcolm sighed and peeled the shirt up and away.
Hoshi's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a curse. The Armory officer's torso was a motley of bruises, shading from pale blue to black. Clearly he'd suffered at least bruised, possibly broken, ribs, judging by the dark pattern that almost completely engulfed his left side. Handprints stood out in vivid detail on both biceps, and she could see the outline of fingers bruised around his throat.
"Turn around," she whispered, unable to force her voice to go any louder.
Malcolm had clearly given up on arguing, because he let her direct him. His back wasn't much better than his front. Ugly purple blotches stood out over both kidneys, and the impression of a boot print was red and livid between his shoulder blades. Had they kicked him or held him down?
"It looks worse than it is."
"Don't." Hoshi shook her head. "Don't do that. This isn't okay, Malcolm. This is not FINE. What did those... things do to you?"
"They wanted information," he said simply, shrugging. "I gave it to them. I had to make it believable, that's all."
She reached out and delicately traced the outline of the handprint on his right arm. A faint hiss was all she heard from Malcolm to indicate it hurt. "Why didn't Phlox take care of these?" she asked, horrified.
"I asked him not to."
"What?" Hoshi drew back sharply. "Why not?"
Malcolm turned to face her. "I wanted to feel them," he told her. "I needed to."
"Malcolm, that's..."
"It's okay," he promised. "Phlox took care of the broken bits and pieces. I'm fine."
"How can you say that?" Hoshi demanded, trying to speak around the hot lump in her throat. "That's it, I'm taking you back to Sickbay. This is unacceptable."
Malcolm caught her wrist before she could make a move for the door. "No! Hoshi, please."
"Stop arguing, Malcolm! I don't care what... perverted sense of honor you're suffering under. This is not okay."
"Is that what you think this is?" He dropped her wrist, and she couldn't read the expression in his eyes. "Some perverted sense of honor? Of duty?"
"Isn't it?" Hoshi threw her hand in his direction, encompassing the entirety of his battered body. "What else do you call this ... this... self-flagellation?"
The Tactical officer snorted. "Hoshi, do you know what it's like to be tortured?"
She bit her lip. "No."
Malcolm nodded grimly. "Well I do. And not just from this. I'm a security officer; we're trained to withstand a simple beating. We're trained to withstand a hell of a lot more. I've been in situations that would turn your hair white, Hoshi. And I never broke. Not once."
He turned away and sank heavily onto his sofa, elbows on his knees, forehead pressed against his clasped hands.
"Not once," he repeated, eyes closed. "Until now."
Hoshi frowned. "But... that was the plan," she reminded him, confused. "That's what you had to do, Malcolm."
"I know," he sighed, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I know it was."
"I... don't understand." Very slowly, afraid he might bolt if she moved any faster, Hoshi knelt down in front of him. "You did what you were supposed to do, Malcolm. You saved Captain Archer. You saved all of us."
He let out a sharp laugh. "Did I? Well, that's good. All's well that ends well."
"Malcolm, what's wrong? What aren't you telling me?" Hoshi laid her hands on his knees, ducking her head to peer into his face, determined not to let him hide in the shadows.
"I never broke before, Hoshi," he repeated, his voice rough. "But this time I did... and it was so... easy."
Confusion was clearly the name of the game, so Hoshi didn't even try to ask Malcolm what he meant. He grabbed her hand, clutching it in an iron fist, and she let him.
"I know it was the plan," he went on, still not meeting her eyes. "I know it was what I had to do. But... It came so easily. Like I wanted to do it. Hoshi, I barely even fought back."
"There was no time for that, Malcolm. You know that," she soothed, resting her free hand on his cheek. "We had a schedule to keep. You did what you had to do."
"I was a goddamn coward."
"What?" Hoshi freed her other hand so she could hold his face between her palms, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Malcolm, that's ridiculous. Is that really what you think?"
"It was so EASY..."
"Yes! It was! And if it had been me, I would have told them everything before they even brought one fist down!" She hated seeing him like this; hollow and broken. It wasn't hard to recognize how fragile his sense of self-worth was, even on a good day. Hoshi allowed herself a moment to curse the entire Reed lineage for making this brave man in front of her feel like he was less than a hero because he'd allowed himself to be broken, even though that was precisely what he'd volunteered to do. "Malcolm, you let them beat you like this because you had to. You told them what they wanted to hear because you HAD to. You fulfilled your mission, and you saved everyone. There's no shame in that. God, Malcolm, you deserve a medal, not some... misplaced sense of stolen valor."
Hoshi's hands coasted down his arms, smoothing over the bruises on his biceps, before drifting back up to curl delicately behind his neck.
"You don't need bruises and scars to prove you're a hero, Malcolm Reed," she murmured. "You're worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. I wish you could see that."
She didn't know what drove her to do it, but she leaned forward to peck him lightly on the cheek. Midway there he turned his head and caught her mouth with his own, and Hoshi found herself kissing Malcolm Reed like the world was ending.
It was wrong and he knew it. Regulations read themselves off in his head and Malcolm told them all to go to hell as his hands furrowed into her blue-black hair, silken strands sliding between his fingers.
She tasted like cherry cheesecake.
With a moan Malcolm forced himself away. "'Msorry," he gasped, stumbling to his feet and trying to put as much space between them as he could. He ended up facing into the corner beside his locker. "That was inappropriate. I... apologize, Hoshi. I shouldn't have-"
A hand on his shoulder spun him around and before he could react Hoshi was kissing him again. Her mouth was hot and eager, and when her tongue dragged along the seam of his lips he thought he was going to have a heart attack. His arms wound around the linguist's trim waist and he felt her arms curl up around his neck, her fingers combing through his hair.
Eventually they had to break for air, but Hoshi kept him close, their noses brushing as they panted into each other's mouths. "Where did that come from?" she breathed, her gaze moving from his lips to his eyes.
"I'm... not sure," he stammered, and cursed his cowardice. Liar!
How was he supposed to tell her that he'd wanted to taste those lips of hers since the first time he'd seen her speaking an alien tongue? That he'd imagined the scent of her on his pillow to help him sleep on lonely nights? That all the blood in his body had drained straight to his groin when she'd turned up on his doorstep less than 24 hours ago with nothing covering her tantalizing breasts but her equally delectable hands? That he'd wanted to replace her hands with his own, Suliban be damned?
You're her superior officer, he chastised himself internally. Show a little bloody restraint, would you?
Hoshi didn't seem to have any such qualms as she licked her way back into his mouth, moaning softly. Her hands fluttered across Malcolm's shoulders to rest on either side of his face as she explored his mouth with her own.
God, he could die here. In this single, simple moment, he could die and have zero regrets.
"I think you wanted this for a while, Lieutenant," Hoshi murmured into his mouth when next they separated. "Why didn't you say something?" Her thumbs grazed back and forth over his cheekbones, hypnotizing and tender.
"You know why," he rasped.
"So it's true?" She kissed the corner of his mouth.
Malcolm closed his eyes. "Yes," he admitted shakily. "God help me, yes."
"Shhh..." Hoshi's hands drifted down his chest, light as a feather over his myriad bruises. "How long?"
Her fingers dipped under the waist of his sweats, grazing over the ridges of his hip flexors. Malcolm let out a slow, ragged breath. "Long enough."
Kisses, light as butterflies, drifted along his jaw, soothing the bruised and swollen flesh as they passed. "Why now?" the linguist murmured.
Because you're here. Because you smell like spring in the Cotswolds. Because your lips taste like cherry cheesecake. Because you look better in that bloody shirt than I do. Because you actually give a damn.
For the second time in as many days, Malcolm Reed broke.
"Because I hurt like hell," he rasped. "And I'm tired of fighting today."
He cradled the back of her head in one hand, the other falling to the small of her back to pull her closer as he sealed his mouth over hers again.
Brilliant plumes of alien nebulae erupted in front of Hoshi's eyes as Malcolm kissed her. And he was most definitely kissing her this time, not vice versa. His mouth was hungry, driven by pure need. A growl rumbled low in his chest, and it lit a primal fire in Hoshi's belly.
Me Hoshi, she thought deliriously. You Malcolm. We mate.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, behind the burgeoning red arousal and the smoldering scarlet lust, she could hear Liz Cutler's sing-song voice saying, "Told you so! Told you so! Neener neener, Hoshi likes Malcolm!"
Shut up, Liz, Hoshi shot back, winding her arms around Malcolm's neck and letting him hoist her up so her legs could settle around his waist, one of his arms curled under her bottom to hold her aloft. Like she barely weighed an ounce.
Fuck, that was sexy.
To say the demure Communications officer had been harboring a bit of a crush on the dashing Engish Tactical officer since space dock would be an understatement. If she were the type to keep a paper diary she'd have been doodling hearts around their joined initials in the margins. It was like something out of a cheesy romance novel; something Liz delighted in reminding her of every chance she got.
Hoshi didn't care. She saw in Malcolm everything she felt she lacked: strength, courage, determination, tenacity. It was impossible to feel afraid when you were standing next to Malcolm Reed. You got the feeling you were shoulder to shoulder with the most dangerous person in the room.
Which was why seeing him so gutted for just doing his job was more than she could stand. And why she was more than willing to give him whatever he needed from her to put that dangerous gleam back in his eyes.
"Hoshi," he breathed, breaking away from her mouth and burying his face in her neck. "Christ, luv... I need you..." He turned them around, pressing her back against his locker.
"You have me, Malcolm," she promised, tilting her head back and letting him have free rein. "Anything you need, you can have it."
Hoshi was painfully aware of how much clothing she was wearing, especially in comparison to Malcolm's naked torso. She felt him tugging ineffectually at her uniform and gently shooed his hands away. "Let me."
One hand went to her zipper while the other clutched at his neck for balance. She shrugged out of the top of her coverall, gasping when Malcolm took the opportunity to latch onto the smooth stretch of her arm, peppering her inner elbow with kisses. It made it harder to wiggle free of her undershirt, but when she'd finally pulled it up and over her head she moaned with delight, feeling his hot, muscular stomach rubbing against her own.
"Pants, Malcolm," she mewed, tilting her head forward to nibble along the shell of his ear.
"Fuck... right... goddammit..."
Hoshi couldn't resist a giggle at his muttered curses as he struggled to shuck his pants while keeping her pinned against the locker. She gamely toed off her boots, letting them fall to the floor behind him with two solid thumps. "You might need to put me down for a minute," she remarked, flexing her hips.
"No," he growled.
"I want to get naked, too, Malcolm."
He groaned and stumbled away from the locker, falling with her onto his bunk, his body covering hers.
"I'm not letting you go," he breathed into her mouth.
Hoshi hummed happily as she felt his hands hook into the waist of her coverall and the boyshorts beneath, stripping them both down her legs in one fluid motion. She took the opportunity to shrug out of her sports bra, leaving herself bare and a little chilled in the cool air of his cabin. All she wore now were her lovely warm socks; a gray and red tartan pattern that stretched all the way to her knees.
Malcolm was standing beside the bed now, one hand on her knee, his bright blue eyes burning in the low light. Hoshi couldn't resist the urge to arch her back and raise her legs, crossing her feet coquettishly at the ankles.
"Are you going to stand there all night?" she wondered aloud, raising a hand to stroke his stomach before hooking into the waistband of his sweats. "Or are you going to come here and keep me warm?" She gave a yank and the sweats slid down his legs, pooling around his ankles. He wasn't wearing anything underneath, and Hoshi felt a gush of warmth spread through her loins.
The socks were going to kill him.
Hoshi Sato was spread out naked on his bunk, but the damn tartan socks were what turned his cock from mere granite to titanium. They somehow made her slender legs look a mile long. He pictured them wrapped around his waist, her dainty feet pressing into the small of his back, forcing him deep, deep, deeper into her hot tight wet...
She rolled onto her side and curled up into a sitting position, gazing at him from under her lashes. "You like what you see, Lieutenant?"
Malcolm cleared his throat and nodded. "You're a banquet, Hoshi Sato. I don't know where to begin."
Hoshi smiled, a sunrise. "Let's start with the appetizers then, shall we?"
He nodded again, all higher brain function abandoned in favor of pure animal instinct. He watched her move to her hands and knees. As if from a distance he saw her pull the clip from her hair, rich black waves falling around her shoulders. The scent of lillies and rainwater reached his nose and he closed his eyes as her warm, soft mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, teasing him gently with the tip of her tongue.
"Christ... Hoshi..." Malcolm tangled his hand in her hair, the tendons in his forearms corded.
"Mmm..." Hoshi hummed, curling her hands around his hips to draw him closer. Sparks singed Malcolm's retinas as she took him deeper into her mouth, inch by molten inch, liquid heat and the graze of perfect white teeth.
He trembled, fighting the urge to thrust into her mouth, letting her set the pace with her lips and tongue. "Fuck...!" he choked when one of her curious hands dipped between his legs, squeezing his balls. Encouraged she tried it again, and Malcolm had to brace his hand against the shelf above his bunk to keep himself upright. "Hoshi... Hoshi, luv... So good... Yes yes..."
The tension was making his ribs ache. The bruises that dappled his skin were all singing as hot blood pulsed behind them, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. When she pressed her thumb along the patch of skin just behind his scrotum he sucked in a breath, which quickly deteriorated into a strangled cry as his abused ribs protested the action.
Hoshi pulled away with a pop! and looked up at him, eyes wide. "What? What happened? Did I hurt you?"
Malcolm let his knees crumple and knelt beside the bed, his forehead pressed against her shoulder. "No," he promised, breathless. "No, you didn't hurt me, luv. Just... aches and pains... I'm fine..."
She cursed softly in some language he didn't recognize, then he felt her soft white hands on his shoulders.
"Get up here, Lieutenant," she murmured. "Let me take care of you."
The salty taste of his precum was still on her lips as Hoshi helped Malcolm up onto the bunk beside her. She pressed herself along the wall, curling one leg possessively around his as he stretched out on his back with a moan.
"Where does it hurt?" she asked, knowing it was a stupid question.
"Everywhere," he said huskily, arm flung over his eyes.
"Where do you want me to start?"
He laughed softly and moved his arm so he could see her, his blue eyes shadowed. "Hoshi, just having you here is a balm in and of itself. You don't need to do anything else."
She blushed as he toyed with her hair, and tilted her head to kiss his inner wrist. "Maybe so," she murmured, resting her cheek in his palm. "But we're both naked and I'd hate for that to go to waste."
Taking his wrist, she slowly eased his hand down to rest on her breast. His fingers curled instinctively around the soft curve, his thumb brushing over her tight nipple, making her gasp.
"I've wanted this for so long," he murmured, hypnotized by her reactions. "You, in my bed, making such sweet, soft sounds..."
Malcolm tweaked her nipple and Hoshi's hips moved, seeking friction against his muscular thigh.
"Did you think about me at all?" he wondered quietly. "In your bunk at night, alone. Did you touch yourself and think of me, Ensign?"
Hoshi's head fell back against the wall and she bit her lip. "Mmm... I did..."
She felt Malcolm move onto his side - gently, carefully, so as not to worsen whatever pain he was already feeling. "What did I do to you in your dreams, Ensign?" he murmured, his lips brushing over her pulse point.
Swallowing hard, she took his hand and moved it between them. "You'd touch me," she whispered, shivering as his fingers brushed the top of her mound. "Two fingers... Just two... God, I begged you for more, but you wouldn't give it..."
Feverish memories of nights alone in her cabin, one hand working desperately between her legs while the other palmed her breast, imagining calluses on the fingertips that thrust into her body...
"Oh, GOD...!" Her back arched as Malcolm's hand delved between her legs, parting her labia and teasing her warm, wet entrance. "Yes... right there..."
"Why did you deny yourself?" he murmured, dipping one fingertip into her body.
Hoshi trembled, clutching at him with numb fingers. "I... I don't... Oh please..." She raised her leg, spreading herself open for him, trying to coax him deeper.
Malcolm's lips curved in a smile against her throat. "Do you like to beg, Hoshi Sato?"
Two knuckles. That was all he'd allowed her thus far and she was shaking with need. "I don't... What...?"
"You could have fantasized me doing anything to you," he went on, and she keened with delight as he eased a second digit into her tight passage. "But you imagined me denying you. Why?"
"I don't know... Fuck, Malcolm, more, please... Please..." Her hips moved, taking him deeper.
"I can't tell you no, Hoshi," he assured her, kissing the corner of her mouth. His fingers twisted inside her and she jumped. "I could never deny you. I'll give you anything you want. You just have to tell me."
His mouth moved downward, resting over her pulse point and sucking firmly, leaving a deep purple mark. She'd have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow.
"Tell me what you want, Ensign," he repeated, his voice a little stronger, more martial. She felt the bass and timber of the Royal Navy vibrate through her bones.
Heat flamed her cheeks as she pressed against him, desperately wanting him to add a third finger to the two already inside her. Desperately wanting him to thrust those fingers deeper, until he hit that one spot that made her toes curl. Painfully needing him to fill the swirling emptiness in her belly that left her feeling hollow and unfulfilled on those lonely nights in her cabin, when all her begging never made him materialize out of the ether to fill her up and make her whole.
"I want you inside me," she groaned. "I want you to fuck me until I can't walk. Oh God... Malcolm...Please... Please, I can't stand this..."
With a shuddering groan the Armory officer pulled her away from the wall, rolling her beneath him. "I've wanted to hear you say that for so damn long," he growled, dragging his hand out of her body and hitching her leg higher around his waist. "Hold on, luv."
Hoshi just had time to wrap her arms around his shoulders before he buried himself to the root inside her.
"YES! OH GOD YES!"
Hoshi's nails clawed at his back, dragging over fresh bruises, but Malcolm ignored the pain and focused on the sweet, silken heat that clenched around his cock like a glove.
"Beautiful," he panted, pressing his face into her hair. "Fucking beautiful, luv. Take me deeper..."
The nimble linguist whimpered beneath him, wiggling her hips in a futile attempt to do as he asked, trying to take even more of him into her body. "You feel... so... so good...," she gasped, tightening her legs around his waist, one hand buried in his hair as the other clawed into his back. The soft rub of her tartan socks on his tailbone made his cock jump.
With short, sharp strokes he started to move, reveling in each breathless moan that seeped past her lips. He wanted to kiss her, but the sounds she was making were wine and whiskey in his ears. He felt drunk. There was nothing he could do but hold on as instinct took over and he started to pound into her in earnest.
"Yes! YES! Malcolm, oh God! Don't stop, please please please dont' stop!" Hoshi flung her arms up to wind her hands around his headboard, planting her shoulders in the mattress and arching her back to grind her hips against his in frantic rhythm.
"Jesus...!" Malcolm choked, struggling up onto his knees. "Come here..."
Hoshi let him pull her up into his lap, one arm around his neck as the other latched onto his hand against her thigh. The new angle kept him deep while her breasts rubbed against his chest, each movement sending electricity shooting from her oversensitive nipples to her core. She was liquid fire in his arms, riding him hard, begging him to give her more.
"Everything, Hoshi," he promised, breathless. "Everything and more. You have all of me, luv. I love you."
The words were past his lips before he could stop himself, and her reaction was lost in the overwhelming roar of his orgasm as he came, shattering apart inside her, shaking and blind.
Heat.
Beautiful, glorious heat.
It filled her from top to bottom, spreading through her veins like honey. Hoshi knew this was an orgasm, but beyond the sheer physical pleasure of it, she was enthralled by the perfect, almost painful fullness of it all. Malcolm pulsed inside her, filling her womb in thick, hot spurts, her sheath stretched tight around him, clenching and releasing; a glorious peristalsis as her body tried to draw him deeper.
He'd said he loved her.
She didn't know what she was supposed to make of that, and right now she didn't care.
Every muscle felt loose and liquid, and she let herself collapse against Malcolm's chest, gasping for air and shaking.
"Oh... God..." she managed to pant. "Oh wow..."
Malcolm laughed against her hair. "Wow indeed," he agreed, sweeping a hand up and down her sweat-slicked back.
Hoshi wound her arms around his waist, holding on for dear life lest she slide off his lap and turn into a puddle in the middle of the bed. "Don't let go."
"I won't." His lips kissed her temple. "I won't."
After a few minutes Malcolm shifted around until he could lie down on his side, Hoshi still hugged tightly to his chest. She whined as the movement shifted his softening cock. "Not fair."
"Sorry, luv."
"Just don't let go."
"I won't."
They stayed that way for a long time. Hoshi felt the flowback, hot a sticky between her legs, but she ignored it. Every other inch of her was wrapped around Malcolm and she wasn't about to move and ruin the spell that had fallen over their little corner of the universe.
"I'm sorry."
Malcolm's voice was husky and soft, his lips moving in her hair.
"For what?" Hoshi whispered, nestling her head deeper under his chin.
"For what I said. You didn't need to know that."
She closed her eyes. "You said you loved me."
"I know." He sounded pained. "I don't expect you to reciprocate. I was never going to tell you. You're still so young, you don't need that hanging round your neck like a bloody noose."
"Malcolm? Shut up." Hoshi tilted her head back to gaze into his face. Her hand idly rubbed his back. "You're always holding things back. You're going to kill yourself with secrets."
He gave her a broken smile. "Comes with the territory, luv."
"Not anymore." She kissed him. "You don't get to decide what I do and don't deserve to hear. You tell me everything, do you understand?"
"Hoshi-"
"EVERYTHING." She tucked her head under his chin again. "I can't believe you'd think it was a burden, knowing you love me. You're an idiot, Lieutenant."
"I'm an emotionally crippled Englishman with family drama and a death wish, if you pay any heed to what Commander Tucker has to say." He combed his fingers through her hair. "Every relationship I've ever had has fallen apart. I'm not a good man, Hoshi."
"Yes you are," she argued, sleep tugging at her eyelids. "You just keep forgetting you are. Don't worry." She patted his hip sleepily. "I'll remind you."
"Oh you will, will you?"
She could hear the smile in his voice and it made her heart do a backflip. "Mm-hmm. Now shhh, sleep time"
Something warm draped over her shoulders and she snuggled closer as Malcolm tucked the blanket around them both.
"Sweet dreams, luv," he whispered by her ear.
She was asleep before she could respond in kind.
"OW!"
"Well, you should have gone back to Sickbay like I told you!"
"Dammit, woman, I'd be fine if you'd quit poking me!"
Trip tilted his head and watched with amusement as Hoshi fussed over Malcolm's collar. The pair were sitting at a corner table in the Mess Hall, their breakfasts ignored for the moment as they bickered.
"I'm not poking you," Hoshi protested. "I'm making you look presentable. Your collar's all inside out and you've got a cowlick."
"Because I didn't have a chance to shower this morning, thanks to someone who shall remain nameless."
Hoshi's answering grin made Trip blink in surprise. Wait... what?
"Eat your breakfast," she chastised, settling back in her own seat. "I'm taking you to Sickbay before our shift starts."
"Hoshi, I'm FINE."
"You could barely move this morning."
"Again, not my fault."
Okay, time to nip this in the bud.
Trip cleared his throat loudly as he approached their table and was gratified to see a red flush spread down Malcolm's neck in response. "Mornin', folks," he chirruped. "Mind if I join ya?"
Hoshi didn't look the least bit embarrassed as she grinned up at him "Sure. But we're going to have to eat and run. Malcolm's got some lingering injuries from yesterday that Phlox needs to take care of."
Trip frowned as he dug into his french toast. "That true, Mal?"
The Armory officer shifted awkwardly in his chair. "Hoshi is blowing things out of proportion. It's just a little bit of bruising."
"Well I'm goin' to side with Hoshi on this one. Check in to Sickbay before you hit the Bridge. That's an order."
Hoshi gave him an impish smile as Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Yes, Commander."
"You seem a lot more... you this mornin', Mal," Trip continued. "I'm glad you're feeling better than yesterday."
"We had a nice long talk," Hoshi said, and from the shade of red that effused Malcolm's ears, Trip assumed 'talk' was a euphemism for something much less verbal. "It was enlightening."
"Yes. Quite." Trip saw Malcolm's face soften in response to Hoshi's smile.
You dog, the engineer thought, and couldn't keep a grin off his own face.
"Well, don't lemme keep you," he said, making shooing motions with his fork. "You oughta get to Sickbay, and I've gotta get to work on the environmental systems on B-Deck."
"Why?" Hoshi asked, brows furrowed. "What's wrong with them?" She shared a concerned look with Malcolm. His quarters were on B-deck
"Apparently the ventilation system is a bit too... open," Trip said, keeping his eyes fixed on the french toast in front of him. "Got a couple noise complaints overnight. Apparently SOMEONE was having a helluva lot of fun. Hey, y'all didn't hear anythin', did you?"
He finally looked up. Malcolm was beet red, and even Hoshi's cheeks were pink. "No. Nothing," the Armory officer choked, taking a swig of coffee before standing up. "I suppose I'll be heading to Sickbay then. Hoshi, care to tag along?"
"Of course. I have to make sure you don't get lost along the way." The linguist hopped to her feet and gathered her tray. "See you later, Commander."
"Later, Hoshi. Oh, Mal?"
Malcolm turned to him with the face of a man who has seen his future, and knows it's full of poorly hidden innuendo. "Yes, Commander?"
Tucker grinned. "Sleep tight." He popped a bite of french toast in his mouth, chewing gleefully.
The other man let out a resigned sigh.
Hoshi hooked her arm through Malcolm's. "Come on, hero. Let's go." She shot Trip a look over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him before leading Malcolm through the maze of tables.
Trip watched them go, chewing thoughtfully. Hero, eh? he mused, watching how Hoshi maneuvered her hand into Malcolm's without fuss; the answering smile that tilted Malcolm's lips. Compared to yesterday, his demeanor was like night and day.
Once they'd left, Trip turned his full attention back to his breakfast. The funny thing about heroes was, anyone could be one. Sometimes you saved a starship, and that was good and noble and damn brave. The universe needed more heroes like that.
But sometimes, someone had to save the hero. Those were the heroes no one really talked about, but God bless them, they made sure the sun got out of bed in the morning and combed its hair.
And made sure its collar wasn't turned inside out.
Tucker chuckled and tucked into his scrambled eggs. B-deck was going to need a whole lot of soundproofing.
THE END