TITLE: Two Days... And All Our Nights To Come; 4/8
AUTHOR: Serit.
PAIRING/S: Tucker/Reed.
RATING/S: M; explicit sexual language, m/m sex, and garden-variety profanity.
WARNING/S: Explicit warm 'n' fuzzy romance between Trip 'n' Mal.
GENRE/S: Angst/Romance. Interstellar tourism; miscommunication; cultural misunderstandings.
SUMMARY: Begins as "Two Days and Two Nights," goes AU in the cellar, and there's angst, but each chapter veers closer to "2D2N".
Please note: Explicitly described m/m sex within; if you don't like it, don't read it!
Second note: Trip's accent gets stronger when he's drunk, and certain consonants, like the endin's of words, ten' to get slurred or dropped. Third note: Malcolm‑‑well, let's just say that Mal stammers‑‑a lot.
Thank you MrsTripTucker, my beta!
For dinner, Malcolm and Trip dressed in fashionable suits‑‑trousers, jackets, and shirt or sweater. Trip's mouth dried and his heart hammered in his chest when he saw Malcolm in his black suit and black cashmere turtleneck sweater. If he had known that Malcolm reacted similarly when he saw Trip in his stylish deep blue suit and blue shirt, the evening may have started differently. Their reservation had been upgraded to the restaurant's roof-top glass conservatory, with a 180-degree view of the Risan capital city and the night sky after sunset. One intimate table was prepared for them, and they were completely alone, except for the waiter and sommelier, who kept their distance unless needed. After they had ordered, and their wine was poured, Tucker and Reed both seemed tongue-tied.
"What shall we drink to?" Malcolm finally asked.
"To us, and to a well-earned two days and two nights," Trip replied, and they clinked their glasses, creating a sweetly melodic chime. The food was meticulously prepared and luscious, the conversation ranged from intellectual to witty, and each man thought their dinner partner was the most intelligent, talented, and incredibly handsome man he knew. The Human prix fixe meal was delicious. Each course was just large enough so the men could appreciate the food's flavor, aroma, and texture, but not so generous that they were filled by any one remove. The Risan sommelier brought a different wine to their table for each course: hors d'oeuvres, soup, fish course, meat course, poultry course, savory pastries, salad, dessert tray, and cheese platter. "Is it me, or is the order of the food courses mixed up?" Trip asked Malcolm in a whisper after the sommelier left after pouring the fourth or fifth wine.
"Yes, you're right," he replied, "it's the European order of courses." After they leisurely finished the delectable meal, they walked around the conservatory's perimeter, taking in the sights from their high vantage point. "Look, Trip! I think that moving light is Enterprise on orbit!" Malcolm exclaimed in a hushed voice.
"Well, I'll be‑‑I think you're right!" The observation called for more wine, until both knew they had imbibed too much alcohol and stopped before becoming ill. On the lift down to their floor, they quieted and became introspective, not something Trip Tucker did often.
Trip wondered why he'd been so happy when he'd seen Malcolm excited and thrilled at the Museum. Ordinarily, he'd be bored stiff being forced to go to a museum, even a technology museum, but this time it was different. He did it for Malcolm this time; he was with Malcolm, and he realized that made the difference. Trip wanted to kick himself when he realized where his thoughts were heading. Malcolm was his friend, albeit a skittish one, and he wouldn't be the least bit interested in him as a sexual lover. He wanted to tell his friend how deeply he felt about him; he didn't want to ruin their developing friendship, and being unable to tell him what he felt twisted his guts into knots. Oh, snap out of it, Tucker! he thought, you're drunk and you're getting sappy, and there's nothing worse than a weepy, sappy drunk. But he was still sad about being unable to talk about the depth of his feelings with Malcolm. He didn't realize it, but tears welled in his eyes by the time they reached their rooms, and his friend had noticed.
Malcolm wondered guiltily if he had spent too much time at the Museum; that must be it, he thought; and Commander Tucker is too polite to complain about my selfishness. He worried about the demands he put on their friendship, the most precious intangible he possessed. He dearly wanted to think of Trip as his friend, but he didn't know when the Commander would dump him, so he didn't use the word. He wondered why the Commander hadn't stood him up or told him off long before this; he knew the man wanted to be called 'Trip', but Malcolm couldn't ignore his training. He knew he'd be hurt when the Commander finally cut him loose from his friendship. He thought of Trip as his best friend at times; he was the only person in his adult life even close to being his friend. Malcolm also felt sexually attracted to him, but he was burdened by and ashamed of his desire. He felt sick and wicked pining for, not just a man, but for the Commander; he would not risk ruining their friendship over a selfish infatuation that he was sure would disgust Trip. He would have liked to tell him about his longing, and possibly feel some understanding or even affection from him, but more likely, Trip would ridicule, insult, or beat him up for expressing his pathetic emotions.
*****
They were still very drunk, but very quiet, when they reached their rooms, leaning against the wall outside of Malcolm's room as he fumbled to find his keycard in his pocket. Trip didn't want the warmth in his stomach, which had nothing to do with food or alcohol, to leave and leave him feeling lonely. "Mal, um‑‑I wanna ask you somethin', but will'ya promise me ya won' kill me for askin' it?"
"What?"
"Please, will'ya promise me ya won' kill me for askin' ya this?"
"Yes, I promise, now what?"
"C'n‑‑I may I please kiss you g'night?"
"Wh‑‑what?" Malcolm squeaked in disbelief.
"I‑‑I would like to kiss you g'night, but I won' force ya if you don' wan' t'be kissed." He saw his friend's stunned expression, realized he had insulted him, and lowered his head. "I'm sorry I asked'ya, Mal. I won' ask'ya again; I never wan'ned to lose your frien'ship "
"Are‑‑are you asking because you're drunk, or because you want to to kiss me?"
He raised his head so fast that his neck bones audibly creaked. "Wha‑‑what did you say?"
"Are you asking to kiss me because you're drunk, or because you want to kiss me?" he asked.
He looks thoroughly wretched, Trip thought, I wonder why. "I‑‑I want to kiss you, but I'm too chicken to ask you when we're sober."
"Yes," he replied.
"Huh?"
"Yes, you may kiss me good night, Trip."
"I don' want you to feel like I'm forcin' you," he said, "you don't hafta if you don' want to."
Why is he being so bloody kind to me? "It's all right, sir; you're not forcing me; I'm fine," he replied in a whisper, but he lowered his head, just as Trip had earlier.
Maybe Mal's jus' tired an' he's humorin' me, Trip thought. He took a step closer and lifted his friend's face with a shaking hand. His eyes were closed; it's not like you're goin' to your execution, he thought in annoyance, or maybe he's just a romantic. He gently pressed his closed mouth on Malcolm's lips in a sweet, chaste kiss. He wanted to run his hand through his wavy auburn-brown hair, clasp him in a loving hug, and kiss him longer and more deeply, but he didn't want to frighten his friend.
Malcolm had closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see any deceit, ridicule, or lechery in his companion's eyes. He was astonished by the gentleness and affection in Trip's kiss. He was also surprised and grateful that he didn't violently shove him against the wall, continue kissing him roughly, or ravage him. He wished Trip's gentle kiss had lasted longer. "Thank you, thank you very much, Trip," Malcolm whispered after their lips parted. His eyes were still closed, and he lowered his head again.
"Mal? Are you all right?" Trip thought Malcolm held himself stiffly at attention at first, but then, surprisingly, his friend relaxed and leaned into his kiss. Maybe he's interested in me? Malcolm must be the last person in the galaxy I'd ever think would be interested in me!
"Yes, sir, I'm fine," he replied automatically.
Trip fought his frozen mouth for a moment before he could speak once more. "May‑‑may I please kiss you again, please?"
His friend lifted his head quickly, surprise and confusion in his eyes, "Wh‑‑what? Why?"
" 'Cus! B'cus kissin' you makes a warm spot in my tummy!" Trip blurted out, "an' so does spendin' time with ya, an' it has nothin' to do with bein' drunk!" Malcolm replied so softly to his outburst that he didn't hear him clearly. "Wha'ja say, Mal?"
"W‑‑would you like to come in?" he repeated hesitantly.
"Oh, right, yes, thank you‑‑" Any other words faded on his lips. His friend opened the door, they entered, and stood motionless. They didn't need to push up the lights. The room had been transformed with thousands of battery candles of every size placed on every horizontal surface, creating an inviting, magical glow. Thousands and thousands of pale blush pink flower petals carpeted the floor, the furniture, and the huge, opulent bed. The holoscreen fireplace played a cozy fire, crackling and heating the room.
"Did you do this?" Malcolm exclaimed angrily, turning and glaring at Trip.
"No! No, I didn't! I dunno what happened! Chef chewed me out this morning! He gave me that alien card an' tol' me to take you to dinner, an' I dropped the card off at the front desk before we went to the museum."
"And when we returned, we were being treated like visiting dignitaries!"
"I don' think they think we're dignitaries," Trip replied, suspicion replacing the fuzzy warmth in his stomach. He ran through their shared bathroom, looked into his room, and returned.
Malcolm leaned against the doorframe. "The leftover wines arrived here before we did," he said, gesturing towards the credenza on the window side of the room. The unfinished bottles of their dinner wines in ice buckets were arranged on the table.
"My room an' the bathroom are decorated like this too, an' the tub is filled an' bubblin', with lights on," Trip reported. His friend's anger had disappeared, but his wretched expression had returned. What do I do to bring back the intelligent, witty dinner partner he was earlier? he thought; I'd do anything to have his relaxed kiss back again! "May I please kiss you again, please?" he asked softly. Malcolm seemed surprised. Before receiving a reply, Trip's hands twined through his friend's hair, his hands unfastened jacket buttons, belt buckle, and zip fastener, his hands massaged his back under his jacket. "Has anyone ever tol'ya how sof' an' velvety your skin is?"
"Trip, you're petting my swea‑‑ahh!" he gasped in shock as the engineer's hands slipped under his cashmere sweater, caressed his skin, and fingered his nipples. It feels like being electrocuted! That's what you get for playing around with an engineer! "Mmm! Mm-mmm!" he mumbled, his mouth plundered by a deep kiss, and he grasped Trip's upper arms for support.
He thought Malcolm was trying to push him away. Trip released him and gently touched his face with trembling fingertips, but he flinched and drew back. "Aw, geez, Mal, I'm sorry I kep' kissin' you," he said, "I just like kissin' you so much that I couldn' stop when I should've." I just ruined the mos' importan' frien'ship of my life, an' now Mal's afraid of me!
"It's kind of you to say that, but I said you could kiss me again," he replied, "I‑‑I wanted to tell you wh‑‑what I feel, but fraternizing with a senior officer is against regulations, sir." He looked up at Trip. Why does the Commander seem so sad? He can take whatever he wants from me!
"I didn' mean to kiss you without your permission; I'm sorry I didn' stop when you wanted me to." Trip apologized again and left through their shared bathroom. In his bedroom, he shrugged off his suit jacket, removed his shoes and socks, and began to untuck his shirt when he felt the call of nature. He returned to the bathroom, did his business, and washed his hands. He was about to go back to his room when he heard a faint noise from the other side of his friend's door. "Mal? Malcolm? Mal, are you there?" he spoke loudly and knocked, but received no reply. He knew the bathroom doors didn't lock, but he didn't like barging into someone else's room.
He heard the muted noise again a moment later and decided to find out what it was. He entered and looked around. "Malcolm?" He heard a noise like muffled hiccups, and silently walked further into the room, wiping the soles of his feet on his trousers because the flower petals stuck to everything, especially skin, it seemed. Trip found Malcolm near the hall door where he left him. He was huddled on the floor, leaning against the wall, knees tucked against his chest, his arms tightly wrapped about his legs, and his brow rested on his knees. "Mal, are you all right? Are you havin' an allergy attack? Are you havin' an asthma attack?" he asked worriedly, knelt, and brushed his friend's tousled hair away from his face.
He didn't think it was allergy attack; it would have manifested itself immediately at dinner, and Malcolm didn't refuse any of the food served. Could it be the flowers? Wouldn't a reaction have appeared when he walked in? Trip wondered what could have caused an asthma attack. He supposed being forced to kiss him may have made his friend angry, but he didn't think it would cause an asthma attack. If the Security Officer was that angry, why didn't he resist and defend himself? He was angry enough when he thought Trip had decorated his room like a honeymoon suite‑‑why didn't he haul off and plant a good right hook when Trip assaulted him? Claims of self-defence and charges of insubordination were always investigated. He wouldn't lie about this incident; he cared too much about Malcolm to lie. He'd honestly admit that he misunderstood how far his friend was willing to go when they kissed.
Malcolm still breathed in uneven muffled gasps and appeared not to have heard him. Trip suspected that his current condition was related to the wretched expression on his face before their first kiss, but he couldn't understand: Why is he so miserable, and if he didn't want me to kiss him, why didn't he tell me? "Please don't hunch up like that, you won' be able to breathe," he said in a kind voice. He knelt behind Malcolm and moved his head and body back to rest upon his chest. His friend's eyes were squeezed shut; his whole body trembled uncontrollably from holding the hiccupping noises behind his tightly closed lips; and he turned his head towards the wall when he moved him. "Shh, it'll be all right, Mal; please, talk t'me, tell me what's wrong, tell me how I can help you." He rubbed Malcolm's chest‑‑atop the cashmere sweater this time‑‑for a time, then moved his hands and stroked his friend's throat and face to soothe him. "Relax, breathe slowly and deeply," he murmured, "in through the nose, out through the mouth, relax and breathe‑‑" His friend tried to turn his upper body to face the wall, but he held him just securely enough to keep his back against his chest. He gently rocked Malcolm, tenderly stroked his hair with one hand, and encircled his torso with his other arm.
Trip put one arm beneath his knees, wrapped his other firmly around his shoulders, and stood; Malcolm was heavier than he appeared because his well-built muscles were dense. He carried him to the bed and laid him on the duvet, all while murmuring kind words into his friend's ear. "Please don' be sad, Mal," he said and removed his shoes and socks, scattering flower petals everywhere. "It hurts me t'see ya hurtin' when I don' know how t'help you; please, tell me what's wrong," he whispered, sat on the bed, held him in his arms, and placed his friend's head on his shoulder. "It'll be all right, darlin' deares'," he murmured and gently pulled off his suit jacket, one sleeve at a time. "Relax, breathe slowly, breathe deeply," he whispered, "In through the nose, out through the mouth, relax and breathe‑‑" He tossed the jacket to the foot of the bed, petals flew through the disturbed air, and he laid Malcolm down, who rolled over with his back facing him, petals sticking to his trousers and sweater. He removed the few items in his friend's pockets and placed them on the bedside table. Trip reached cautiously for his belt buckle, and guided it out of the loops across his back. Trying to take off his sweater or trousers could result in his friend resisting, but he decided to risk it.
"Shh, it'll be all right. Hush, deares' Malcolm, please don' be sad," Trip adjusted his best friend's position on the bed, held him closely, gently pulled his arms out of his sweater's sleeves, and covered his eyes carefully with one hand as he pulled the sweater off his head. Trip moved Malcolm on the bed as he shifted about, the waistband of Malcolm's unzipped trousers migrated to his knees, and flower petals stuck to his warm, toned, and smooth skin. He tried to get his friend's attention before removing the garment, planning to let him sleep in his boxer briefs. "Mal? I wan' to take your trousers off, so you don' wrinkle or rip them in bed. Deares', I won' hurt you, I would never hurt you, but will'ya help me here, please?" He moved his legs slightly, which Trip took as agreement or acquiescence. He lifted Malcolm's legs and removed his trousers. As he turned to place the suit on a chair, Malcolm crawled on his hands and knees to the bed's edge and grasped Trip's waist. His shaking hands unfastened Trip's belt, tugged his trousers' zip, and pulled his briefs down. "Mal! What tha'hell do'ya think you're doin'?"
"I'm sorry, Trip, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I didn't lay out for you when I should have‑‑"
"What?"
"‑‑I'm sorry, sir, I'm very sorry," he said with difficulty as he tugged Trip's briefs below his privates, grasped his narrow hips, and pulled himself closer to suckle his hardening phallus, "I'm sorry I didn't lay out for you before‑‑"
"Malcolm, I would never ask you for sex or force you to have sex with me!" Trip shouted in horror. He firmly grasped his friend's shoulders and moved him onto his back in the center of the huge bed. "Now, stay there! Jus' stay right where you are for one damn minute!"
Malcolm closed his eyes, his body trembling, "Y yes, sir," he replied with a shaking voice.
Trip pulled his briefs back up to his waist, and yanked his trousers off his feet. He looked through his pockets to find the item he wanted, threw the garment onto a chair, removed his shirt and threw it there as well. He took a deep breath, then climbed onto the huge bed to kneel next to his friend.
Malcolm lay motionless on the bed. His lean and compact muscles could not accept any more nervous tension, and they throbbed painfully. He had spread his legs apart, and rested his right foot on the velvety duvet, his leg bent at the knee, to make removing his boxer briefs easier. He felt and smelled bruised flower petals sticking to his bare arms, legs, back, and chest. His arms rested at his side, one tear trailed from his closed eyes, and his face was turned away from the Commander. "Mal, I'm sorry I shouted at you," Trip apologized, "Things were jus' racin' out of control, an' we both needed a time-out." He finger-brushed Malcolm's tousled hair away from his face and tenderly caressed his right cheek. "Please, Mal, please turn your head, open your eyes, an' look at me." He didn't want to open his eyes after being touched so lovingly. He didn't want to face reality, but he dearly wanted Trip to remain his friend. He turned his head because his caresses were so gentle, he wished they could stay like that forever. He felt something wipe his face, and he tensed anxiously. "Mal, I'm jus' dryin' your face with my han'kerchief," he murmured, "an' I am so sorry I assaulted you. You are too beautiful and too precious to have your soul, or your feelin's, or your body hurt, by me or anyone else."
After the Commander's last puzzling remark, Malcolm opened his eyes in bewilderment. "I‑‑I don't understand, Trip; why did you leave?"
"I left 'cus you pushed me away; I thought you didn't want me kissin' you anymore."
"I don't remember doing that. I only remember you pinching my chest‑‑" he mumbled. His left hand covered a hardened nipple, and he blushed, "‑‑and deep kissing me until I thought I was going to pass out."
"Aww, I didn' mean to hurt you, Mal; you should've tol' me to stop "
"‑‑I didn't want you to stop kissing or or touching me, I‑‑I wanted to hold you while you held me," he mumbled shyly, "I didn't understand why you apologized and left. I thought it was my fault, but I didn't know what I did to make you leave, or what to say to bring you back," his voice faded, and he turned his head away again.
"Oh, Mal, I'm so sorry! It was not your fault!" Trip exclaimed, "I thought you didn't want me kissin' an' pettin' you anymore!" The silence seemed to last for hours, but actually only lasted for several minutes. He cleared his throat anxiously. "Um‑‑uh‑‑did you mean that, what you jus' said?"
"Which part of what I said?"
"You said you didn' want me to stop kissin' or touchin' you, an' you wan'ned to hol' me while I held you. Would you still like me to kiss an' touch you some more? Do‑‑do'ya still wan'ta hol' me while I hol' you?" Trip asked apprehensively; Malcolm appeared ill at ease and he added, "I'll only do what you'll let me do; if you don' want me to do somethin', then I won' do it."
Malcolm closed his eyes again and turned his face towards Trip. "I liked it when you were stroking my face," he said quietly.
"Do'ya mean like this?" Trip caressed his face and neck in long, slow sweeps of his fingertips, first his right cheek a few times, then his left.
"Yes," he whispered, and Trip continued the strokes for what seemed a long time. He turned his face away because Trip's touch was so loving, so tender‑‑so arousing, it took all of his self-discipline not to audibly sigh. He didn't realize that he was breathing heavily, or that Trip could see him trying to control his feelings. After a while, Trip's caresses lengthened onto his chest, and he began gently nudging his friend's hardening nubbins in passing. "W‑‑would you please kiss me, please?" he stammered bashfully many minutes later, unsure what his request would unleash. Trip had lightly stroked a sensitive spot on his neck again, and Malcolm did moan aloud softly, just as his friend's lips touched his. Their tongues tangled in their mouths, until he desperately, impatiently suckled Trip's tongue, moaned again, grasped his friend's shoulders, and spread his legs further apart, his left knee nudging Trip's thigh.
Trip ended their kiss slowly. "You don' hafta open your legs for me," he said and gently pushed his legs together. "You don' hafta lay out for me on a firs' date. I want you to be sure you want me as much as I want you."
He opened his eyes. "I'm sure that I want you very much, Trip; how much do you want me?" he asked, anxious and eager in the same breath. "Please come here, Trip, please," he said, pulling on his friend's narrow hips, trying to move him between his spread legs.
"Mal, I don' want us t'go all the way b'cus of a misunderstanding‑‑"
Malcolm's shaking hands gripped his friend's shoulders. "Don't do this to me, Trip!" he shouted frantically, "I'm a miserable, desperate, celibate bisexual with high standards who hasn't been happily laid in many years, who wanks off in the shower much too damn often for his own damn good after being confined in a frigid shuttlepod for too damn long with the most annoying Chief Engineer in Starfleet!" The most annoying Chief Engineer was about to reply, but Malcolm kissed him deeply, impatiently, and moved his hands upon his best friend's body. "There hasn't been anyone special for me for a very long time, and I want to please you tonight because I think there hasn't been anyone special for you, either, and I don't care if you break my heart tomorrow, because I want one night of pleasure with you to remember for the rest of my life!"
Trip's reply contained admiration and lust in equal parts: "Malcolm!" They frantically kissed and groped and growled incoherently, scattering decorative pillows and flower petals all over the room, until they had removed their 'Starfleet blues' briefs and were kneeling in the middle of the huge, opulent bed, facing each other, stark naked, awe-struck, and suddenly tongue-tied.
"Trip, just fuck me!" Malcolm said impatiently, "We have to feel each other to get to know each other, and I don't care about the details. I‑‑Want‑‑You‑‑In‑‑Me‑‑Now! I want to please you and I don't care what you do to me tomorrow!" They burst into another bout of energetic kissing, hissing, spitting, and clawing like wildcats, until Malcolm was flat on his back, his legs loosely around Trip's waist, and their hard phalluses rubbing against each other as their tongues tangled in their mouths. "For heaven's sake, Trip, GET‑‑IN‑‑ME, NOW!"
"I can' bear t'see'ya in pain, an' I'll be damned if I'm gonna be the one to hurt ya!" his future lover replied. "Didn' the hotel guy mention somethin' about 'ritual supplies'?" He leaned across the bed, snagged the bedside table's drawer knob with two fingers, and pulled it. He stared for a long moment and let out a slow whistle.
"What?"
"It looks like they packed every sex shop in San Francisco into this drawer!"
"What?" Malcolm pushed himself up with his arms to look, then collapsed back onto the bed, a stunned expression on his face. "Bloody hell, we'll never leave this room!"
"Well, we'll never leave this room alive," Trip replied, smiling seductively. He grabbed some items and caressed Malcolm's inner thighs lightly with his fingertips. They kissed deeply and continued to grind against each other.
Malcolm noticed nothing until he felt as if he was electrified by a delicate touch upon an organ even more private than his privates. He opened his mouth to shout, was electrified again, and his body arched towards the starlit ceiling. Trip knelt between his parted legs, lifted his dearest love's rear slightly off the bed, pulled away an errant petal or two, then cleaned, caressed, and briefly licked Malcolm's muscle ring as his love incoherently shouted his name, overwhelmed by powerful surges of bliss. He sheathed himself, then lubricated, stretched, and entered him, accompanied by his moans and sighs of passionate ecstasy. Trip held Malcolm impaled upon his rigid erection, tilted his body back onto the bed, took his stiff shaft into his mouth, and kissed, licked, nibbled, and suckled it as he repeatedly thrust and Malcolm fired a flood of sweet, creamy fluid down his throat. "Oh, oh; oh, god; oh, Trip!" he screamed breathlessly as his nervous system was submerged beneath a tsunami of exquisitely fierce blue pleasure.
His skin paled to alabaster; even the blush pink flower petals appeared glaringly red upon him. He sighed and went limp in Trip's arms. "Mal, deares', are you all right?" Trip asked, leaning over and holding him. Malcolm whimpered and turned his head away, and a tear or two trickled from his eyes. "Mal? Malcolm?"
He opened his eyes and gasped, horror-stricken, as he gazed up into his senior officer's eyes. "I‑‑I dreamt‑‑" he closed his eyes tightly, "I‑‑I'm sorry, Commander; I‑‑I dreamt that we‑‑we made love, s‑‑sir," his voice faded, and he turned his head away again.
"Deares', we did make love, an' since m' warp core is still in your bowels, the leas' you can do is call me Trip," he gently held his lover's head in his hand and kissed his lips, "Your cream tastes like pineapple juice, but you scared me half to death when you fainted."
Malcolm opened his eyes; they flashed angrily. Trip was reminded of a quote about Zeus or some other ancient god with lightning bolts shooting from his eyes. If Malcolm's eyes had been particle cannons, he would have been instantly vaporized. "Reeds‑‑Do‑‑NOT‑‑Faint. Ever." he said sharply, "I might have been short of breath, but I did not faint."
"Sure'ya didn't, darlin' deares'," he whispered in reply, smiled at the beautifully handsome man he held in his arms, and kissed him again. Trip was officially whipped. He knew it, and he didn't care at all, as long as he could have Malcolm to himself for the rest of their lives. He tightened his grasp on his dearest love and kissed him again.
After a moment of hesitation, Malcolm relaxed and responded, "I‑‑I'm sorry I spoke so harshly, Comm‑‑Trip," he mumbled contritely. He had been plunged beneath a tsunami of intensely powerful pleasure while Trip both penetrated and dropped down upon him. He nearly had lost consciousness, and he felt as if he had been swamped and drowned in Trip's ocean of energetic passion. How‑‑how did he do that to me? he thought after he had ejaculated for the second time. Comparing himself to Trip, he was distressed about his inadequacies, and his anxiety shot to stratospheric heights. "I‑‑I want to please you tonight, but I‑‑I'm a rather cl‑‑clumsy lover, and I‑‑I don't want to disappoint you‑‑" he mumbled bashfully.
"Mal, you're my best friend, an' I'm your best friend. I know for a fact you're not clumsy, an' nothin' you do could ever disappoint me." Trip smiled warmly as he lay back against the pillows Malcolm had just left.
Malcolm cleaned and covered his own organ, then cleaned and resheathed his lover's phallus with shaking hands. "I‑‑I'm shorter than you, Trip; I'm rather sure I c‑‑can't enter and‑‑and drop down on you at the same time," he said self-consciously, "I hope y‑‑you'll feel as‑‑as pleased as I was; I‑‑I don't think I'm as large as you "
Trip sat up and hugged Malcolm, who was kneeling between his legs and shuddering uneasily, "Mal, makin' love isn't only about size, or somebody's nervous system goin' off like fireworks," he said and lightly kissed his explosive lover. "I know we didn' come here for a one-night stan'‑‑I know I didn', an' I don' think you did, either. It's not only about how someone feels physically after he's launched his rockets; makin' love is also about what you feel for the person you're with. I know you're serious about your feelin's; I'm serious about my feelin's‑‑I love you very much, an' I wanna show you how much I love you, whether it's holdin' you or wringin' you out 'til you've‑‑you're shor'ta breath." He then appeared concerned. "There are alternatives to penetration; should I not have entered you on our first night together?"
"No, no, Trip! If anything, I persuaded you! I was desperate, and I haven't been laid for a very long time! I know it's only a physical need, but I get‑‑very lonely‑‑sometimes, and I know I should resist this need and be stronger than I am. I‑‑I should have told you sooner than tonight that I‑‑I love you, T‑‑Trip, but I didn't know how you'd react, and I‑‑I didn't want you to‑‑to end our friendship because of what I feel," Malcolm stammered, squeezing his eyes shut so his tears wouldn't spill.
"Shh, Mal, I know, deares', I know; I love you, an' I wouldn' end our frien'ship if you tol' me how you feel," Trip replied and adjusted his hug around his embarrassed lover.
"I do love you, and not just anyone will do, not even for a one-night stand‑‑and you are not a one-night stand, Trip! You believe me, d‑‑don't you?"
"Shh, Mal, I believe ya, darlin' deares'; an' I wan' you t'believe that I love you dearly, too."
"There hasn't been anyone for me for a long time because I hadn't found anyone who feels right for me, until I‑‑I met you, but I didn't know how you'd react, and I‑‑I didn't want you to‑‑to end our friendship because of what I feel, and I didn't know what I'd do if you didn't want me‑‑or want a‑‑a committed relationship with me," Malcolm mumbled and lowered his head.
"I could tell that you valued our frien'ship, an' I could tell you wan'ned to be close frien's for the right reasons, not the wrong ones, an' I'm glad I feel right for you b'cus you feel right to me," he said, "Anythin', everythin' you give me, is lovin'ly an' wholeheartedly sincere b'cus I can feel it, Mal. Yes, I wan'ta have a committed relationship with you, an' you jus' have to relax b'cus I know you're a better lover than you think you are," he took his ashamed lover into his arms and massaged his back and arms. "I think we oughtta practice every night, as much as possible."
"Trip!" Malcolm was shocked, but Trip merely guffawed, necked, and nuzzled his lover.
Calming down after a few moments of his stimulating attention, he cleaned, stroked, and tongued Trip's anus for a moment, accompanied by his best friend's groans and growls of uncontrolled arousal. He lubricated, stretched, and entered him, his breath merging with Trip's roars of uninhibited ecstasy. Trip pushed pillows behind his back, wrapped his legs loosely around Malcolm's waist, and kept an arm around his dearest love as he stroked his hard length and they rocked in time with his thrusts. They shouted energetically when their organs explosively fired their thick fluids and ignited their euphoria.
"I'm sorry if I wasn't good, if I didn't give you as much pleasure as you gave me‑‑" Malcolm mumbled self-consciously, "I‑‑I have to work harder to satisfy a‑‑a partner; I‑‑I'm sure I didn't give you as much pleasure as I received from you," he said, "but I could, if I drop down on you now," he whispered, his voice fading. "You‑‑you must be a better lover than me because I‑‑I've never, um‑‑ejected twice in any intimate encounter I've ever had, with anyone, male or female," Malcolm whispered shamefacedly and lowered his head.
"You gave me a whole lotta pleasure, Mal! You shot me to the moon, an' y'ain' clumsy, so don' let anyone ever tell you otherwise! I wen' wil', deares', because I was with you!" Trip said. He quieted, gently embraced his insecure lover, and massaged Malcolm's neck, back, and arms. "I love you dearly, an' yeah, I still want a committed relationship with you, an' you jus' need to relax b'cus I know you're a better lover than you think you are." He left the bed, and returned moments later with two hot washcloths on a tray and a medium-sized towel from the bathroom. He lovingly cleaned Malcolm's shaking body, wiping away dozens, nope, hundreds of flower petals. "Deares', are you sure you ain' comin' down with somethin'?" he asked, "You're shakin' like a leaf‑‑"
"‑‑I'm fine, Commander!"
"‑‑You mus' be if you're usin' your 'F' word," he replied, chuckling. "I love you, Malcolm, an' I'm all yours, but I never again wan' to hear you call me 'Commander' or 'sir' when we're off-duty!" Malcolm looked up into his eyes. Trip smiled, dropped the damp washcloth on the bedside table, and tenderly embraced his dearest love. They kissed again, sweetly, and this time, they both closed their eyes. "Hol' that thought, deares'," he whispered and wiped up the rest of the mess and flower petals from the bottom sheet.
While battling the sheets and covers, they discovered four flat sheets between them and the blankets; Trip threw the pillows to the foot of the bed and pulled the lowest flat over the bottom sheet. They straightened the covers, fluffed the pillows, and crawled in. "Do you think the sheets are arranged that way to make it easier to get back to sleep?" Malcolm asked.
"Yeah, no arguin' about who's gonna end up in the puddle," his best friend and lover replied and took him into his arms, being careful not to crowd the smaller man. They tucked themselves under the dry, warm covers, fidgeted a bit to find the most comfortable spot, and slept nestled together until early morning.
*****