Disclaimer: This was written for my personal enjoyment, I'm not making any money.

Author's Note: Please read the warning! This is Slash, and if you don't like the idea of the boys in love, this is definitely not your type of story, and you're not going to enjoy it. In this case, please do not continue reading!

Additional warning: Last scene is rated R for adult content (no violence, nothing too graphic)!

I'd like to thank my betas Gabi and Romanse for their usual great work.

Anyone who likes Slash and T/R, enjoy :)!

Gasping, Jonathan Archer landed on his back with a dull thud.

Trip flexed his aching shoulders, then held out a hand to help Jon to his feet. "Gotta work on that defense move, Cap'n." He grinned. "That back of yours is a little too old to take a lot of whuppin'."

Jon raised his eyebrows at him. "'Whupping'? That was the first time you had me off my feet, Commander. And I was holding back, you know."

"Sure you were." Trip laughed and Jon joined in, then made a quick, unexpected move. A second later, Trip found himself sitting on the sparring mat and looking up at a very smug Captain.

"All that sparring with Malcolm didn't have too much of an effect, did it," Jon said. "At least not on your sparring technique."

Trip felt his cheeks grow warm and got to his feet. Before he could think of an appropriate comeback, however, Malcolm's voice carried over from the other side of the gym: "Careful, doctor!"

Trip and Jon both turned their heads. Malcolm was standing between Phlox and Travis, one hand firmly on the doctor's right arm. Behind him there was Travis, looking a little rattled.

"I'm sorry, Ensign," Phlox said. "I thought I had mastered the forehand move correctly."

Malcolm let go of the doctor and stepped back. "It was a good start, doctor. Just try to use more precision and less force next time." He smirked. "I'm sure Ensign Mayweather will appreciate it."

Travis looked after Malcolm with a worried expression as the Lieutenant returned to his own sparring partner, Hoshi, who was waiting several feet away.

"Do you think you could show me and the doctor one more time?" Travis asked.

Trip saw Malcolm hide a smile.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, Ensign."

Trip and Jon exchanged an amused glance, then assumed their fighting positions again. Jon faked to the left, then tried to get past Trip's defense with a quick Spearhand strike. Trip had no trouble blocking it, and had just dropped back into his defense stance when he saw an opening in Jon's guard. He lunged forward, meaning to catch the Captain off guard. Jon whirled around, a lot faster than Trip had expected, and suddenly, pain exploded in Trip's crotch. He let out a strangled cry and felt his knees give way, hands clamped over his injured private parts as he collapsed on the sparring mat.

Through a haze of pain, Trip heard Jon' voice above his head. "Trip! Trip, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"What happened?"

That was Malcolm. Trip bit his lip to stifle a whimper – it felt as if his balls were being crushed in a vice – and opened his eyes to see Jon and Malcolm kneeling next to him and looking down with equally worried expressions. In the background, the rest of the sparring team was peering over their shoulders.

"I'm not quite sure," Jon said. "He attacked me and when I tried to block it, I think my knee caught him in the... um, yes. I'm sorry, Trip."

Trip squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, but didn't think that he would be able to say anything at the moment.

"Commander?" Phlox' voice joined in. "Do you think you can sit up?"

Trip started to sit up and felt Malcolm's hand on his shoulder, helping him up. The pain that had mercifully relented intensified again, and Trip gasped. "Sonofabitch," he said between clenched teeth, blinking moisture from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Jon repeated, sounding close to tears himself.

"It's okay," Trip said, leaning forward to alleviate the pain. It didn't help much, but at least he was no longer writhing on the floor.

"Should we take him to sickbay, doctor?" Malcolm asked, and Trip shook his head.

"No, I'll be okay."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Phlox interjected. "A blow to the testicles is very painful for males of all species, but usually without consequences, except for Antarians, who are known to shed their external genitals after a trauma."

Four pairs of eyes gave Phlox a horrified look, while Hoshi was apparently trying to do her best not to grin.

Phlox raised his eyebrows. "They regrow," he said. "Within a month, in most cases."

Trip fought the urge to cover the injured parts of his anatomy with his hands. His balls were still hurting like hell, and the mental images that followed Phlox's comments weren't exactly helping, either.

"Well," Malcolm said after a short moment of silence, "I'd say the training session's over for today. We'll continue where we left off next time."

Jon held out a hand, and, on seeing the Captain's miserable expression, Trip allowed himself to be helped to his feet.

"You gonna be okay, Trip?" Jon asked quietly.

Trip nodded, although he knew that it was going to be a while until the throbbing in his privates would subside. "S'long as they don't fall off."

He managed a grin, and Jon gave him a relieved smile in return. He even refrained from any quips along the lines of "Malcolm would have my head", and only clapped Trip lightly on the shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then, okay?"

Trip nodded. A long, hot shower and crawling into bed with Malcolm suddenly seemed like a very good idea.

Trip pulled up the blankets, eliciting a sleepy mutter from Malcolm. They were lying in their customary spoon, the only sleeping position that really worked for two grown men sharing a standard-sized bunk. It had taken some getting used to, especially for Malcolm, who wasn't much of a cuddler. Eventually, they had figured out that the best way for them to fall asleep was facing the room, with Trip lying in Malcolm's arms and two blankets spread over the two of them. After almost a year of spending their nights together, Trip found that he had trouble falling asleep without Malcolm's body warming his back.

"Night," he said quietly, assuming that Malcolm had already drifted off, exhausted from a day of teaching martial arts to a bunch of scientists and engineers. A hand stroked over Trip's stomach, ghosting across the fine line of hair that descended from his navel.

"Feeling better?" Malcolm's breath tickled the hollow between Trip's neck and shoulder.

Trip nodded. "Yeah. Though I didn't really need the mental image of Antarians sheddin' their balls."

"Trust Phlox to come up with something like that," Malcolm said, sounding amused. His hand continued its downward journey and came to rest on Trip's crotch, gently cupping the injured organs through the fabric of Trip's shorts. "If I wasn't so knackered, I'd offer to kiss them better. But I'm afraid that will have to wait until tomorrow morning."

Trip laughed softly. "Late shift?"

"I don't have to be on duty until after lunch."

"Neither do I."

"What a remarkable coincidence."

"It is, though, isn't it?" Trip grinned. He never scheduled his late shifts without checking Malcolm's duty roster first, and he knew that Malcolm did the same with his.

The other man pulled him closer, sighing contentedly. "Good night, love."

"Night Mal."

Trip closed his eyes and thought of how he was going to wake up, him and Malcolm in bed, with nowhere to go and nothing to do but...

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Malcolm woke abruptly, not sure at first what had disturbed his slumber. The source of warmth next to him was gone, and there were strange sounds coming from somewhere to his left, as if of someone... whimpering? Malcolm felt around on the bed, and encountered only crumpled sheets.

"Trip?" He fumbled for the switch to turn on the bedside lamp, squinting in the sudden onslaught of light. The whimpering continued, and now he saw that it was indeed Trip who was producing the sound. His lover was doubled up on the edge of the bed, his hands clutching at some part of his body Malcolm couldn't see.

"Trip! What's wrong?"

"Son... of a bitch..." Trip broke off and whimpered again, and now Malcolm saw that both of Trip's hands were clamped over his groin, as if he had just taken another kick into his sensitive parts.

Moving closer, he laid a careful hand on Trip's shoulder. "Where exactly does it hurt?"

Trip's voice was tight with pain, but Malcolm still detected a trace of embarrassment. "Lef' one."

"You mean, your left..."

"Yeah..." Trip bent forward again, his forehead almost touching his knees, and was obviously doing his best to bite back another whimper.

Malcolm swallowed. "Maybe you should let me have a look."

Groaning, Trip shook his head. Malcolm looked at him for a moment, then, as gently as he could, tugged Trip's hands out of the way and pulled back the waistband of Trip's boxer shorts. And stared.

Oh. My. Bleeding. Nora.

Making sure to keep his voice and expression neutral, Malcolm glanced up at Trip's contorted face. "Um, Trip?"

"Y-yeah?"

"I think we should get you to sickbay."

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

Phlox eyed them curiously, and Malcolm realized what an odd sight they must look, barefoot and wearing only a pair of sweat pants each, he with his arm wrapped around Trip's waist. It had taken them the better part of ten minutes to get to sickbay, since the best Trip could do in the way of walking was limping at a snail's pace. No bloody wonder, Malcolm thought, remembering what he had seen back in Trip's quarters. It had certainly looked bad enough, and he had no doubt that it hurt even worse.

He helped Trip limp over to one of the bio beds. "You'd better take a look at this, doctor. There seems to be some... swelling..."

Once he was sitting on the bio bed, Trip went back into the hunched position of before, obviously happy to let Malcolm do the talking.

"It started all of a sudden... he said the pain is located in his, er, his left testicle."

"I see." Phlox closed the privacy curtain before he returned to the bed. "You'll have to let me take a look, Commander."

Trip groaned and looked at Malcolm. "Ah... don' get it."

His words were slurred with pain, and Malcolm wasn't sure if he had understood him right. "Come on, Trip, the doctor needs to take a look at you."

He helped him sit back, brushing back Trip's sweaty blond hair while the doctor began his examination. Malcolm had hoped to block Trip's view at least partly, but of course the engineer glanced past him, eyes widening when he saw what Malcolm had seen.

"Oh Gawd... it's purple..." He closed his eyes. "Ah jes' don' get it."

"What do you mean?" Malcolm asked, hoping to distract Trip from both the horrible sight and the doubtlessly uncomfortable examination.

"Why's it always happen ta me?" Trip grimaced again. "Ah'm tellin' you... if anyone's balls are gonna swell up to the size of baseballs and turn purple, s'gonna be mine. It's jes' no'-"

He never finished his sentence, quickly clapping a hand over his mouth. Malcolm grabbed the bedside basin and shoved it under Trip's nose, not a second too early either. Stroking Trip's back while the engineer retched and heaved, Malcolm turned to look at Phlox.

"Have you found out what's wrong, doctor?"

Phlox straightened up again, pulling off the sterile gloves he had donned for the examination. "Yes," he said. "Don't worry, Lieutenant, the Commander's condition is easily resolved. He will require immediate surgery, however."

Trip raised his head. "Surgery?!"

"It's nothing to worry about," Phlox said, a little too cheerful for Malcolm's tastes. "What we have here is a simple case of testicular torsion."

That sounded like something a Suliban torture squad might do to a hapless prisoner, Malcolm thought, and tried to banish the resulting images from his mind. "Doctor?"

"Testicular torsion basically means that the testicle has twisted around inside the scrotum, cutting off the blood supply. This is usually very painful-"

"Wouldn't... have guessed," Trip muttered, and quickly bent back over the basin as another round of heaves overcame him.

"-but not dangerous if it is treated immediately."

"Treated how?" Malcolm asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

"I shall have to make a small incision and untwist the spermatic cord to restore the blood flow. After that, I'll fixate the-"

Malcolm held up a hand, having noticed Trip's unfocused look of absolute horror. In fact, he was beginning to feel slightly faint himself. "I think that's enough information for now, thank you doctor."

"As you wish." Phlox picked up a hypospray. "If I may, Commander..."

Trip nodded numbly, closing his eyes as the injector touched his neck. His posture relaxed a little as the analgesic found its way into his bloodstream, and he handed the basin back to Malcolm.

"Thanks. I'm... I'm feelin' better now."

Malcolm didn't look too closely at the contents of what he was holding, and deposited the basin on the bedside table, just in case it might be needed again. He had a feeling that Phlox would not agree to put Trip under general anesthetic, and hoped that the doctor wouldn't decide to use one of his creatures to provide pain relief during the impending procedure.

"It's fortunate that you came to see me now, Commander," Phlox said. "If the condition is resolved within the first six hours after occurring, the chances of saving the testicle are nearly one hundred percent."

"That's comfortin'," Trip muttered. The analgesic had obviously been one of the stronger concoctions Phlox kept on his shelves; the engineer's face had relaxed, and his eyes, formerly glassy with pain, were assuming the bleary look Malcolm associated with someone heavily medicated. He gently took Trip's upper arm and helped him lie down on his back.

"Don't worry, the doctor is going to take good care of you."

And he had no doubt that Phlox would do just that, even though he was careful to keep his back to whatever the doctor was about to do. The sight of the surgical instruments Phlox was unwrapping had been quite enough.

"Ah don't believe it," Trip said, his accent surfacing again as the medication took hold. "Firs' the Cap'n almost castrates me durin' combat training, an' now this. Wait a minute," he pushed himself up on his elbows, no longer quite so sleepy. "Is this happenin' because Jon kicked me in the balls?"

Phlox turned to look at him, another hypospray ready in hand. "Almost certainly. At your age, testicular torsion is commonly caused by a trauma to the scrotum. Lieutenant, if you would..."

Malcolm helped Trip take off his sweats and briefs, wondering what the Starfleet regulation book had to say about sudden and unwarranted vindictiveness against a superior officer. He suspected that it wasn't exactly approved of, even if it was said superior officer's fault that his Chief Engineer's left ball had assumed the color and shape of an overripe plum.

"This may feel a little cold," Phlox announced, lowering the hand that was holding the hypospray. Trip was staring at the ceiling as if trying to solve an immensely complicated equation that someone had written there in very small letters.

"I'm gonna kill him," he muttered between clenched teeth, and Malcolm wisely decided to act as if he hadn't heard him.

"It's going to be fine," he said, reaching for Trip's hand. "Just try not to think about it."

"Easy for you to say." Trip winced. "I feel like the guy in "Braveheart"."

"He didn't have any anesthetics," Malcolm reminded him, and promptly earned himself the famous Trip Tucker death stare. He sighed and patted Trip's hand, trying not to listen to Phlox' muttered commentary on what he was doing.

Even though he felt slightly guilty thinking about it, it was a bloody shame about their late morning, too.

Malcolm added a plate with scrambled eggs to his overflowing tray, and was about to head for the door when someone called out to him.

"Malcolm!"

He turned around, trying hard to keep his face neutral. "Sir."

The Captain frowned, and Malcolm wondered if his tone had been a little on the cool side.

"Good morning, sir," he added, relieved when Archer smiled in response.

"If you see Trip, could you let him know that I'd like to reschedule our meeting to 1400?"

Malcolm shifted on his feet. He still hadn't gotten used to the idea that Archer knew about his relationship with Trip, and the fact that they usually spent their nights – and late mornings - together.

"I'll let him know, sir, but I doubt that the Commander will be attending any meetings today."

Archer frowned. "Something wrong?"

You could say so, sir. Malcolm lowered his voice, not wanting the entire messhall to be privy to their conversation. "There was a complication after the incident at combat training last night. Commander Tucker had to undergo minor surgery to, ah, resolve the situation."

Malcolm couldn't deny a certain satisfaction at the shocked look on Archer's face. "You mean, I injured him when I..." The Captain paused, then asked, "Nothing, um, permanent, though, is it?"

Malcolm took pity on him. "No, sir. It was only a minor operation, and the doctor released him to his quarters immediately afterwards." Where Malcolm had spent the remainder of the night taking care of a groggy Trip Tucker who complained that his balls felt like "busted balloons". "He's still resting."

He glanced down at his tray, hoping the Captain wouldn't comment on the fact that Malcolm was bringing his Chief Engineer breakfast in bed.

Archer only nodded. "I'll drop by later to check on him - if he's still speaking to me, that is," he added ruefully. "Tell him to get some rest. Oh, and Malcolm?"

Malcolm turned around again. "Sir?"

"You can take the day off. I guess Trip could use some company right now."

Malcolm inclined his head. "Thank you, sir." At the Captain's unhappy look, he couldn't bring himself to keep up the cool formality. "I'm sure Trip will appreciate you coming by, sir."

Archer didn't seem to be so sure. "I'll see you later, then."

Malcolm nodded and made his way to the door. He had been planning to upgrade the aft cannon today, but he supposed that it could wait for another twenty-four hours. Presently, he had a wounded soldier to tend to.

"A little more to th' left... little more... there! Oh..."

Encouraged by the breathless sounds of pleasure, Malcolm continued his gentle massage, slowly trailing his fingers over soft skin. His thumb found and explored a sensitive spot, rubbing a little harder. His efforts were rewarded with a moan and a sigh from the puddle of bliss that was currently Trip Tucker.

"Right there, Mal. Oh yes..."

The doorchime sounded, making them both jump. Malcolm's first instinct was to make a quick retreat from the bed, but then he decided against it. It would be Phlox dropping by for another check-up, and the doctor wasn't going to mind. Besides, when he'd first learned how to do this, he'd been told that leaving off in the middle of the exercise could spoil the overall effect considerably. It wouldn't be fair to Trip, who seemed more relaxed than he had all day.

Malcolm stayed where he was as Trip called out for the visitor to enter. "S'open!"

When the door slid aside, Malcolm instantly regretted his decision. Captain Archer walked into the room, his eyebrows climbing towards his hairline at the sight that presented itself to him.

"Now that looks like something I should try myself."

Trip grinned, ignoring Malcolm's burning face. "Yeah, Malcolm gives the best foot massages. I'm not lendin' him out, though."

Archer stifled a laugh, having noticed the look on Malcolm's face. "How are you feeling, Trip?"

"Better, I guess," Trip said. His bare feet were still resting in Malcolm's lap, but, spoiled effect or no, Malcolm couldn't bring himself to massage his lover's feet in front of the Captain. He might not have minded the doctor's presence, but Archer was a different story altogether. He solved the problem by discreetly tugging the sheets over Trip's feet before he leaned back against the wall and tried to look as nonchalant as he could.

Archer sighed. "Look, Trip, I'm really sorry. Phlox explained to me what happened..."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Trip said quickly. "Wasn't your fault."

"Still, I..."

Trip waved a hand. "Really, Jon, it's alright. Coulda happened to any of us. Except Malcolm, a'course," he added with a smile, but his tone implied that he wasn't kidding. Malcolm accepted the compliment without protest. He had to work hard to keep his reflexes at the high level his job required, and he wasn't going to argue Trip's point.

Archer looked relieved. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling better. Take as much time as you need, okay?"

Trip nodded. "Thanks, Cap'n."

Archer nodded and got up, patting Trip on the shoulder. Before he left, he turned around once more. "Oh, and gentlemen?" A mischievous grin spread on his face as he continued, "You're on the away team for the Min'shara class planet T'Pol has discovered, so don't miss the mission briefing tomorrow morning. We should be entering orbit in about forty-eight hours."

Malcolm frowned. "Captain, with all due respect, Commander Tucker might not be up to it..."

Archer's grin widened. "I've cleared it with the doctor, Malcolm. Trip's going to be just fine, trust me."

With that, he left, and Malcolm found himself sharing a surprised look with Trip, who seemed equally at a loss.

"What's he up to now?"

Malcolm shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I don't think there's going to be a problem."

That's what I hope, anyway. He didn't bear a grudge against Archer – what had happened during combat training had been an honest mistake – but he did hope that he and the doctor knew what they were doing. Trip needed his rest, after all. And speaking of which...

Pulling the blanket aside, he lifted Trip's right foot up onto his knee for better access.

"Now where was I..."

Trip's eyes instantly closed in an expression of pure pleasure, and Malcolm grinned. So maybe they had missed out on their late morning, but he could think of worse ways to spend his evening.

Malcolm buried his bare toes in the sand, enjoying the tickling sensation on his skin. He scooped up a handful and let it trickle through his fingers. It was warm from the sun and, except for being a very light shade of turquoise, didn't look or feel any different than the sand back on Earth.

"Next time we should bring a bucket and spade for you." Trip, who was stretched out on the towel next to his, grinned, shielding his eyes with one hand against the sun. "You could make castles and stuff."

Malcolm shook the sand off his hands. "Or I could bury your legs while you're asleep."

"Hey!" Trip flicked a bit off sand in his direction. "I'm still recuperatin', jus' so y'know. You're supposed to be nice to me."

Malcolm grinned, surprised to find how much he was enjoying himself. The "away mission" Archer had mysteriously alluded to in Trip's quarters had turned out to be shore leave, a full day of R and R while their resident exobiologists examined the planet's flora and fauna. It was an uninhabited world, and so shore leave meant a day at the beach, under normal circumstances not a prospect that had Malcolm quivering with anticipation. Yet against his expectations, this was turning out to be more than enjoyable. The shuttle had dropped them off at a spot well away from the rest of the group, and Malcolm found he didn't even mind the knowing smile passing between Hoshi and Liz Cutler as he and Trip climbed out of the hatch. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent a day alone with Trip, and in the shade of alien palm trees no less. That was, he was spending it in the shade; Trip had chosen a more sunny spot, stretching out on his towel like a big, sand-colored cat.

"You're going to get sunburn if you stay there," Malcolm said. "Maybe you'd better put on some more sunscreen."

Trip raised his head and grinned. "Only if you rub it on."

"Well, I can't have you returning to the ship looking like a lobster, can I?" Malcolm smiled, opening the bottle and shaking some of the white liquid into his hand. "Phlox would kill me, after he spent so much time sewing your bits and pieces back on where they belong."

"Don't remind me." Trip raised his right leg, waggling his toes. "You can start with my feet."

"Yes, m'lord." Malcolm knelt down next to Trip's towel and nudged one bare shoulder. "Turn over, I'll do your back first."

Going about it methodically, he made sure that Trip's feet and calves were thoroughly taken care of before he turned his attention to the long, sinewy thighs. He shook some more sunscreen into his hands and, with long, lazy strokes, began to rub it into Trip's sun-warmed skin, slipping his hands into the legs of the Hawaiian trunks until his fingers touched the swell of Trip's buttocks.

"I won't get sunburn under my clothes." Trip's quickened breath betrayed his teasing tone.

Malcolm stroked his oily hands down Trip's back, leaning forward so that his mouth was next to Trip's ear. "Then I'd say we should get them off," he whispered.

"Y'know," Trip turned onto his back again, and suddenly Malcolm found himself grabbed by his arms and pulled down on top of the other man, "I'm not T'Pol, but I don't think that'd be very logical."

"Bugger logical," Malcolm said; that was, the part of him still coherent enough to utter the words. Trip's hands had found their way into his swim trunks, one gently massaging his buttocks while the other one slipped to the front and began to caress his hardening flesh. Malcolm closed his eyes, and allowed the pleasure wash over him, if only for a short while. Then he forced himself to return to reality.

"Trip... seriously... I don't think..."

Trip effectively silenced him by pulling him down for a long kiss, their erections touching through the fabric of their swim trunks. When they broke apart again, they were both breathing hard, and Malcolm thought how beautiful Trip was like this, face flushed, eyes dark and lips slightly parted with excitement.

"I'm okay, Mal, really. Phlox sealed the wound, and the pain's almost gone, too. We just gotta be careful."

Trip's fingers closed around Malcolm's hardness again, and all arguments he had wanted to bring forward suddenly fled Malcolm's mind. He allowed himself to lean into the sensation of callused fingers stroking him, of feeling the waves building up inside him and ebbing down again. Trip took his time, touching him gently and only gradually increasing the friction. The feeling was incredible, so unlike their often sweaty and needy lovemaking after a long shift, when there was no time and energy left for much finesse.

"God, Trip..." Malcolm buried his face in Trip's neck, breathing in the familiar scent, and combined with Trip's touch it almost brought him to the edge.

"Love you," Trip whispered, and this time he tightened his grip. Malcolm's orgasm hit him harder than he had expected, the wave inside him cresting and breaking, bringing release. He cried out, his lips pressed against the other man's skin so that only a muffled sound escaped. Trip held him close, his fingers loosely cupped around Malcolm's softening organ. For a while, Malcolm just lay there, his head pillowed on Trip's chest, listening to the other man's steady heartbeat and enjoying the warmth, the closeness, and the fact that right now, Trip was all his.

All his in every sense of the word. Something hard was pressing against his thigh, and Malcolm raised his head, grinning at Trip.

"I seem to remember promising you to kiss it better."

"You sure, Mal? It doesn't exactly look so pretty after-oh!"

Back on his hands and knees, Malcolm had moved down Trip's body, trailing kisses on the wiry blond curls that peeked out from under the Hawaiian shorts. He tilted his head back a little, pretending to consider.

"I'd say it looks pretty enough for me," he said, dipping his tongue into Trip's navel.

Trip gasped and laughed. "Y'know that's not what I meant."

"Actually, you do have a point," Malcolm slipped his fingers under the waistband of the brightly patterned shorts. "Lift," he ordered, tapping Trip's thigh. "I think it might look a lot prettier without those."

Obediently, Trip lifted his backside so that Malcolm could slip off the shorts.

"Definitely prettier."

Trip opened his mouth, probably ready for a smart comeback, and it was Malcolm's turn to silence him with a kiss.

"I'll be careful," he whispered, before he moved down again. As Trip had done before, he kept it all very gentle, softly licking and stroking and enjoying the sighs and moans he was able to elicit from his lover. The scar from the operation stood out red against the pale skin, and Malcolm, as promised, dropped a soft kiss on the no longer swollen sac.

"Better?"

Trip's only reply was a whimper, but this time it had nothing to do with pain. Malcolm smiled and leaned down again, intent on giving his lover as much pleasure as he could before bringing him to release. Trip's breathing grew more erratic, his hips straining upwards, hands digging into the sand next to the towel. Malcolm paused again in his administrations, grinning at the frustrated groan that followed.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, and dipped his head down once more to finish what he had begun. Trip cried out as he came, and as so often, Malcolm marveled at the fact that it was him doing this, that his touch could drive Trip wild and take him to completion. When Trip was done, he gently let go, mindful of the now sensitive tissue.

"God, Mal, that was amazin'" Trip reached out, and Malcolm let himself be pulled close, insinuating himself against the smooth, sun-warmed body. They shared a kiss that tasted of sand, sunscreen and Trip; the perfect holiday combination, Malcolm thought, and chuckled into his lover's mouth.

"What?" Trip asked. "What's funny?"

Malcolm shook his head, somewhat distracted by Trip's teeth nibbling on his chin. "I was just thinking that I'd like to do this more often."

It was Trip's turn to chuckle. "Knock yourself out. I'll need a little time to eat and sleep, and maybe put in a few shifts to keep the Cap'n happy, but for the rest of the time I'm all yours."

Malcolm laughed. "Smart arse. I meant this, spending time away to ourselves, just you and me." There was more he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how to put his thoughts into words. They didn't often talk like this. "I... I like having you to myself."

Trip kissed him gently on the lips. "Me too," he said quietly, and Malcolm was glad that his lover hadn't turned his statement, clumsy as it had been, into a joke. "An' you're right. Sometimes I wish we had a place of our own, just for the two of us."

"Like our own house, you mean?"

Trip nodded. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

"Well, I don't know about the house, but the Captain seems to be in a rather... lenient mood these days." Malcolm smiled. "I'm sure he wouldn't turn us down straight away if we asked him for shared quarters."

He paused, anxiously gauging Trip's reaction. There was a moment of dumbstruck silence, then Trip's face began to light up, as if he couldn't quite believe his ears.

"You serious?"

Malcolm nodded. "Yes. I would like that very much."

Instead of an answer, Trip pulled him down again for a long kiss. "Y'know," he whispered as they broke apart again, "I've been wantin' to ask you for ages, but I wasn't sure how you'd react."

Malcolm smiled and reached down between Trip's legs, his fingers brushing across the tiny scar. "Looks like something good came out of this, after all."

Trip laughed. "If you put it that way... maybe that's why these things keep happenin' to me."

"Has to be," Malcolm replied and leaned down for another kiss. "Otherwise, where'd be the point?"

The words had barely left his mouth when it occurred to him that he didn't really want to know. Fortunately, Trip decided that he had better things to do than talking, and Malcolm wasted no further thought on the matter.

The day, after all, had only just begun.

FIN

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