Disclaimer: None of the characters, technology or settings belong to me in any way. I'm not making any money here. All rights remain with their rightful owners.
Warning: This story contains adult topics and conduct, and should only be read buy adults.
A/N: From the first time I watched the episode Shuttlepod One, I felt that someone had to address the sexual tension between Trip and Malcolm, so I did. The characters were quite easy to write about, though, so I continued the story, letting it stretch out over more episodes. It will probably be exclusively from Malcolm's point of view.
Trip had obviously intended for the alcohol to have a calming effect on Malcolm, but there was only so much calm that could be attained when trapped in a shuttlepod with an annoyingly positive Chief Engineer and the air running out. They had decided to lower the cabin temperature to maximise the time they would have to live, but Malcolm still felt horrible, not being able to do anything to get them out of this situation. Pacing the cramped space wasn't helping much, either, but it was better than sitting still and glowering at each other.
For a while, the commander simply stared into space, trying to ignore his agitated shipmate, but finally, he seemed unable to take it any longer. In a split second, Trip shot up, gripping Malcolm and effectively bringing him to a halt.
„You do know that the oxygen supply will be depleted much sooner if we continue to exert ourselves?"
It was a moot point and they both knew it. Enterprise was less than likely to show up in time to save them from suffocation. A few minutes less would hardly make a difference.
Malcolm suddenly became aware that Trip's hands still gripped the sides of his head, pulling slightly at his raven hair in the process. Malcolm had always envied the other man's apparent strength, his muscular arms and torso. Now that he felt those same parts of his colleague's anatomy so close to his body, he couldn't help the pang of arousal that rushed through him.
Their lips met before either of them had time to second-guess the action. Having never kissed a man before, Malcolm was surprised by Trip's gentleness, the smoothness of his whiskey-flavoured lips. Releasing a pent-up breath, Malcolm closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, letting his hands rest on the commander's shoulders for the moment. Something in him was still compelling him to respect the chain of command. Military family, indeed. Trip seemed quite happy to lead, sliding one hand back to linger between Malcolm's shoulder blades while his tongue sought entrance. There was desperation in that kiss, bittersweet and palpable, but somehow that made it taste that much more special. At the moment, Trip was trying to manoeuvre them onto one of the narrow bunks, but inebriation and the cold still prevailing in the pod made it harder than expected and he only succeeded in pulling Malcolm down onto the floor with him. Finally, the commander broke the kiss with an awkward laugh, sitting back on his heels.
"Guess whoever designed these things didn't expect to have two senior officers making out in here."
Malcolm scoffed slightly. "I wouldn't think so. If Starfleet got wind of this, you'd probably get a reprimand for abuse of command."
Trip laughed. "Can't you just imagine Admiral Forrest's face if he had to bring Soval up to speed on our away mission?"
They both burst out laughing.
"Soval's Vulcan mind would probably implode," sniggered Malcolm, welcoming the momentary change of topic. As pleasant as that kiss had been, it was undoubtedly the result of their dire circumstances. Clearing his throat gruffly, he got up off the floor of the shuttle and sat down on one of the bunks. To his considerable surprise, Trip did the same, his expression one of slight confusion, but also determination as he sat down next to Malcolm.
"I hope I'm not out of line here, Malcolm, but I kinda liked that."
Malcolm felt his mouth go dry. "Not at all, Sir."
Trip cleared his throat. "I understand that things could get awkward if we do get rescued, but honestly, I'd rather ... keep doing ... this, than just sit around waiting for death. So, what do you say, Lieutenant?" There was a challenging twinkle in his eye that Malcolm had sometimes seen during Trip's frequent arguments with T'Pol. Somehow, in this surreal situation, it made his pulse race and his face flush. Moistening his lips unconsciously, Malcolm mustered a cheeky grin.
"I don't know, Sir. We might still die ..." With that, Malcolm closed what little distance there had been between them and reclaimed his commander's lips in a kiss more passionate than anything he'd imagined himself capable of. He was weirdly pleased with himself when he felt Trip's surprise.
The engineer soon recovered, however, and took control, pulling the shorter man on top of him. It was Malcolm's turn to be astonished at the hardness he felt thrusting up through his shipmate's uniform, and even more so at his own erection that strained against his overall.
"Are we about to ...?" Malcolm gasped, feeling the commander bite his neck.
"Dunno. All I know is I'm glad you shaved after all."
They both laughed at that, recalling their earlier fight about how their bodies would look when Enterprise found them. Those cares seemed far away now, as Malcolm undid the zipper at the front of Trip's uniform and slid his hands inside, relishing the strange and unfamiliar feeling of hard muscle under his touch. Trip closed his eyes and ran his hands along Malcolm's thighs, gripping his hips appreciatively. With a questioning gaze to make sure Trip hadn't changed his mind, Malcolm unbuttoned the black uniform shirt and pushed it down over the blond man's shoulders along with the overall, admiring the smooth skin that move revealed.
Again, he was gripped by something like envy at those muscles, and some impulse made him run his tongue along the cleft between Trip's pecs. The commander's eyes flew open in surprise, probably at his reserved colleague's boldness, but instead of stopping Malcolm, he brought his hand up to tangle in the tactical officer's hair.
Some part of him wondered how far they would go ... how far they could go and still be able to look each other in the eye in the unlikely case that Enterprise had seen the explosion Trip had created as a beacon. Those thoughts were interrupted, however, by the strangest desire to get them both naked. Would the commander still go along with that? Or would Malcolm have crossed some random line?
Trip must have sensed his dilemma and made the decision for him. With an ease that astonished Malcolm, he quickly stripped off as much of his shipmate's clothing as their position allowed and slid one of his hands determinedly down Malcolm's chest and stomach to finally make contact with his heated member. A ragged moan fought its way out of Malcolm's throat at the touch. They had talked a great deal about their past conquests, most of that in the past few days in this pod, but seeing the other in action, as it were, was unbelievably more exciting than either of them could have imagined.
Somehow, suddenly, this felt like more than two people desperately trying to alleviate the stress of imminent death. The way his cock twitched at his CO's touch, the way the stronger man sighed when Malcolm buried his face in his neck to stifle his moan ... this was a whole new level of intimacy. In a rush of confidence, Malcolm hurriedly stripped out of his uniform altogether, facing Trip in just his briefs. The appraising look that crossed the commander's face, before he too stepped out of his uniform, made Malcolm tingle pleasantly. He had always enjoyed praise and the way Trip had regarded him just then felt so damn good.
For a moment they just stood there in their underwear, and Malcolm had a sudden vision of one of Enterprise's other shuttles docking with them, and Captain Archer and T'Pol poking their heads in to see them like that – both sporting raging hard-ons as they stared at each other hungrily. The image almost cracked him up, but he quickly controlled himself, torn between jumping the commander's bones and getting dressed and pretending none of that had even happened.
Just like before, it was Trip who took the initiative, pulling Malcolm back toward the bunk, sinking down on it and reconnecting their lips with a deep groan that succeeded in wiping away all of Malcolm's doubt.
Throwing caution to the winds, he settled more comfortably against Trip, his hands roaming over the soft expanses of his chest and stomach; then, with a final mental push, he slipped one of his hands down under the waistband of Trip's briefs, touching him gingerly. With something that sounded a lot like a growl of frustration, Trip reached down and made sure that Malcolm's grip was firm enough.
Trip might be younger than him, but he was obviously less inhibited, perhaps even more experienced? The thought of Trip being with another man, maybe even the captain, suddenly made him impossibly hard, and he had to steer his thoughts away from that tantalising imagine to avoid bringing this exploration to an early end.
To distract himself, he focused on the feeling of Trip's lips against his own, his tongue gliding over his, and the silky smoothness of the American's shaft in his hand as Trip bucked his hips in an effort to get Malcolm to move his hand.
"Come on, Malcolm. Don't make me give you an order," he gasped against Malcolm's mouth, although it came out sounding more like a plea than a request.
Malcolm felt himself grin wolfishly, as he started moving his hand in an excruciatingly slow motion.
"You'd honestly pull rank on me, just to get off? That sounds awfully desperate, don't you think, Sir?"
Trip broke into a grin himself, and caught at Malcolm's lower lip with his teeth.
"Careful, Lieutenant! Any more cheek like that and I'll have to put it in your permanent record."
"Well, we wouldn't want that ...," Malcolm allowed, and finally picked up his speed a little, making Trip give such an exquisite moan that Malcolm couldn't help the jerk of his hips that pressed his erection into Trip's.
The commander's kisses grew deeper and fiercer as Malcolm found Trip's rhythm, his moans mingling with Malcolm's own. A small part of his mind noticed with surprise that Trip had hardly touched him and nonetheless he was already dangerously close to the edge, but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to not give himself over to the sensations.
Raking his fingernails over Trip's back, he increased his speed one last time, as he came with a grunt which he tried to stifle by biting down on the commander's neck. The mix of pleasure and pain pushed Trip over as well, and Malcolm felt him spasm next to him, as hot sticky wetness spread over his fingers.