kageygirl

Enterprise slash

Disclaimer

Star Trek and Enterprise (the universe, the characters, and all related images and logos) are copyrighted by Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended or should be inferred. No money was made from the writing or posting of any content on this fan site.

kageygirl's site is maintained by kageygirl.

Enterprise kageygirl

Nocturne

Title: Nocturne

Author: kageygirl

E-mail: kageygirl@gmail.com

URL: http://www.kageygirl.com

Fandom: Enterprise

Pairing: Tucker/Reed

Rating: NC-17

Category: Slash

Summary: Trip's mouth gets him in trouble. Malcolm saves his bacon.

Comments: This started life as a PWP. I think the bunny dropped acid while I wasn't looking.

A hand reached out, wrapped around his upper arm, and yanked him into a darkened alley. Another hand clapped over his mouth. After running through the well-lit streets, the sudden stop in near-darkness was disorienting. Before he could gather his wits enough to fight back, he heard Malcolm's voice. "Don't make a sound."

Trip blinked, then nodded. The hand over his mouth loosened, but did not move away entirely, fingertips resting lightly on his cheek. Trip struggled not to pant for breath, even though his chest burned with the need for oxygen. He felt tiny air currents around his mouth as his exhalations were deflected by Malcolm's fingers.

There was a pool of streetlight just past the alley entrance, but this planet had no moon, no natural satellites, and the alley was pitch black. Trip could almost feel the darkness pressing in around them, wrapping them in a little cocoon. With no reference points, he was suddenly dizzy, and he put out a hand for balance. He brushed Malcolm's shoulder and held on, grateful for a solid presence, even if he couldn't see the other man.

The alley was tiny, and narrow, and Trip could feel the heat radiating off Malcolm as the lieutenant stood in front of him, poised for trouble. The adrenaline still surged through him, and Trip drew in a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm his racing heart. That was a mistake; he breathed in Malcolm's scent, and a ribbon of lust laced through his body.

The other man's unseen presence was almost unbearably erotic.

The sound of pounding footsteps echoed off the alley walls, growing louder, and Malcolm grew taut under his hand, poised to fight or flee. Malcolm turned his head away from the street, his hair brushing Trip's chin, and applied gentle pressure with his fingers to turn Trip's head, too.

On the rogue planet, Malcolm had wondered aloud that the Eska didn't use masks or face paint. He'd thought that their pale skin would stand out like a beacon to creatures adapted to very low levels of light. Trip didn't know what kind of night vision the natives here had, but he was grateful for Malcolm's caution.

All that focus, all that energy was wrapped up in keeping him safe. Even though he knew Malcolm was just doing his duty, it still gave him warm shivery feelings inside.

The running footsteps passed by their alley without stopping. Trip held himself still as they receded into the distance, not wanting to ruin their luck with an inopportune movement. After a few minutes, the alley was quiet again.

He missed the fingers as soon as they left his face. Malcolm must have turned to face him, because when he released the breath he'd been holding, Trip felt it across his neck. The intimacy of it made him shudder.

He immediately regretted it, because Malcolm leaned in, his chest brushing against Trip's, his lips skimming Trip's jawline, and murmured in his ear, "Are you all right?"

Trip swallowed at his nearness, at how the timbre of Malcolm's voice matched the one from his fantasies. He leaned in towards Malcolm, suppressing a sigh as his cheek slid against the other man's. He had a vague memory of being told once that a whisper carried further than a speaking voice, and pitched his tone as low as Malcolm's had been. "Yeah. Just jumpy."

The hand on his arm loosened and slid away slowly. He felt the specter of it move past the left side of his torso as Malcolm reached down into a pocket. There was a click, and Trip could feel the tension vibrating through Malcolm's shoulder, as the sound seemed to echo off the walls.

Malcolm held a scanner; he had turned the contrast down on the display, so that it only gave off a faint light, and Trip could just barely see his face in the dark. "T'Pol realized that we could track the guards chasing you by the beryllium in those ceremonial staffs they carry."

"I do love science."

Malcolm breathed a chuckle. "Let's go. The coast is clear for the moment."

They emerged into the deserted street. It seemed to be a shopping district; all the stores were closed this late at night. Malcolm kept the scanner low, against his leg, and checked it surreptitiously every few minutes. "Why are the Ansharl hunting you, exactly?"

"The cap'n didn't tell you?"

"Only that the Queen's Guards were after you, and that you'd be free to go if we could keep you safe until morning. Wise choice, heading into the Alien Quarter, by the way."

"Thank you." Trip rubbed the back of his neck. "I insulted their princess."

"What?"

"I didn't mean to! How was I supposed to know that mispronouncin' her name would be such a big deal?"

"Why didn't you just call her 'Your Highness,' or whatever the local equivalent is?" He caught Malcolm's smirk as they passed under a light.

"It was a ritual greeting. Her name was ten syllables long, and three of them were some sort of snarl."

"We'll have to work on your diction, Commander." Malcolm enunciated a little more precisely than usual, and Trip could damn near feel his amusement.

"Unless you can teach me to growl, I doubt it'll help." Trip instantly regretted his choice of words. He drew in a deep breath, trying to clear the inappropriate images from his mind.

"What's the punishment if they catch you?"

"Some kind of public beating. Or…mating." Malcolm's eyebrows went up, and Trip grimaced. "Hoshi wasn't real clear on it, but neither option was particularly appealin'."

"I don't know—the princess has a lovely coat of fur."

"She's a dog! Well, more like a wolf, but…" He realized Malcolm was teasing him. "Very funny."

"I thought so."

They heard laughter then, bright and cheerful, coming from around the corner. Trip glanced around, but there was nowhere to hide. Malcolm pulled him into a doorway, barely more than a recess off the street. Trip looked down at him in confusion—there was far too much light here, and no chance that they wouldn't be seen.

Malcolm reached up, grabbed his collar in both hands, and pulled him down into a kiss.

Trip had thought about kissing Malcolm before. That first kiss would be tentative, yet hungry, and oh so very hot. This was not a first kiss. This kiss had demands to be fulfilled. This was a kiss that promised to drag him home and fuck the sense out of both of them. This was a kiss with intent.

Malcolm had one hand on his lower back, pushing their bodies into contact. The other skimmed down Trip's flank, then slid back up to knead his ass. After a moment of pure shock, Trip responded with equal fervor, pushing Malcolm back against the building wall and grinding his hips into the other man's. Dimly, he noted a girlish giggle from behind him, and the sound of high heels clattering on the pavement.

When he finally pulled away, he had to rest an arm on the wall and lean his head against it, for fear that he'd stumble. Malcolm was looking past him, into the street, his lips parted slightly as he too panted for breath, the only sign that anything was amiss. He glanced up at Trip, his eyes unreadable in the low light. "Sorry about that."

"Sorry?" Trip goggled at him, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"I should have warned you." Malcolm peered down the street at the small group of apparently-teenage girls as they continued on their way. "I doubt they'll report us to the security forces, but we should move on just in case."

"You doubt…" Trip shook his head to clear it. Of course, Malcolm was just doing his job. Trip was damn lucky to have him here. He couldn't control his raging hormones enough to save his own ass, but Malcolm was doing it for him.

They turned onto the cross-street, and found themselves in a nightclub area. This street was filled with people, a sharp contrast to the one they'd just left. Trip paused, but Malcolm took his arm and led him onward. "We'll be harder to find in a crowd."

The street was busy, crowded with aliens in pairs and in groups, obviously enjoying the night. Any other time, Trip would have been fascinated at the diversity, but now he just scanned the crowd for the tall Ansharl guardsmen.

Malcolm pulled on his arm, draping it around his shoulders. "Try to look like you're having a good time. We don't want to look suspicious."

Trip tucked Malcolm in under his arm. "Yessir."

Malcolm rolled his eyes, and checked the scanner again. "Damn." He was suddenly all business. He glanced around briefly, then led Trip into a club with red curtains hanging by the door.

The interior was dark and smoky, in that way that seemed to transcend species and planetary differences. Malcolm ignored the dance floor and the bar, heading for a darkened hallway. When they reached it, the noise level dropped, and Malcolm started scanning the doorways. "Damn it. There's no back exit."

The scanner beeped, and Malcolm adjusted the readout. "Company, outside the club." He pulled Trip into one of the curtained alcoves that lined the hall and closed the drape.

In the dim overhead light, Trip could see that a small velvety couch was the alcove's only feature. He leaned against the wall out of the way. Malcolm paced two steps forward, two steps back, staring at the scanner and clearly sorting their options in his head. He paused, stared at Trip for a moment, and seemed to reach a decision.

Malcolm dropped the scanner on the couch and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Trip, do you trust me?" There was an undercurrent of desperation in his voice, and the look in his eyes was intense, part focus and part fear.

Trip's throat went tight—Malcolm was afraid for him. That pained him more than the thought of getting caught. "With my life."

Malcolm's hand slid to the back of his neck, and he pulled Trip down into a searing kiss. This one was fierce and fiery, and Trip had to settle his hands on Malcolm's hips just to keep his balance.

His other hand went to the zipper of Trip's jumpsuit, and slid it all the way down. Trip gasped when that hand found his erection and grasped it firmly. He leaned his forehead against the other man's. "Malcolm, what're you doing?"

Malcolm's eyes were dilated in the low light. "Trust me." He drew Trip's head down to his shoulder, fingers combing through the hair just above his neck. His other hand stroked steadily, strongly, and Trip gave himself over to the sensation, muffling a sob into Malcolm's neck.

Malcolm began murmuring into his ear, that soft accent sending his lust into ever-higher spikes. "Come on, come for me, Trip, it's all right, love, I've got you…"

Trip groaned as he came, his breath making the collar of Malcolm's uniform warm and moist. He slumped against the wall, and Malcolm leaned into his side, helping to hold him up. Trip brushed his temple against the other man's, then nuzzled him into a languorous kiss.

Too soon, Malcolm stepped back, and Trip looked up to see him give a sad little smile. His fingers trailed across Trip's cheek as they left his face, then he reached into a pocket and retrieved a handkerchief. He cleaned both of them up, and Trip watched him fondly. "'Be prepared'?"

"Something like that." Malcolm still looked sad, and Trip felt a frisson of worry. Did he regret what they'd done? Trip went about putting his uniform to rights to cover his anxiety.

Malcolm picked up the scanner as he went to the curtain. He went stock-still as he looked at it, and shot Trip a glance heavy with meaning. Trip took a deep breath and nodded, and Malcolm slid the curtain aside.

First Guardsman Tergarl stood in the hallway, his golden eyes glinting in the low light. He flashed his canine teeth in the native equivalent of a smile. "Tuckerrr. You've given us a joyous hunt. Her Majesty will be pleased."

Malcolm eased in front of Trip, trying to shield him without provoking the guardsman. Trip laid a hand on his shoulder. Tergarl had half a meter on Malcolm, and was thickly muscled under that glossy black fur. Once again, Trip was sorry that the Ansharl did not permit foreign weapons on their planet.

Malcolm ducked his head in greeting, his eyes never leaving the guard's face. "Tergarl."

"Rrreed." The native returned the greeting, nostrils flaring as he tested Malcolm's scent, the Ansharl equivalent of a handshake. His ears flicked in surprise, and he cocked his head at Trip. "Tuckerrr! You did not tell us you were mated!"

Trip nearly choked and tried to turn it into a cough. His cheeks flushed and he swallowed hard, but Tergarl seemed not to notice. He cuffed Trip on the shoulder with a paw-like hand. "If we had known you were not challenging Her Highness for right of mate, we would never have tested your worth with the hunt!"

Trip dropped his head. He wasn't sure he could process any more shocks that night. Malcolm seemed relaxed, but Trip saw the tension in his shoulders, and knew that if he had to, he would fight this seven-foot-tall bipedal wolf to buy Trip time to get away. At least some parts of his universe were constant.

The guardsman pressed a button on his ceremonial staff, and an indicator light near the top winked out. Tergarl gave them both a toothsome grin. "I have told my guards that the hunt is over. And it was a fine chase indeed! I thank you both for the sport!" He cuffed Trip again, knocking him off-balance, then turned and loped away down the hallway.

Malcolm looked back at him, and as he read the apology in those darkened eyes, it all fell into place. "You bastard. You knew."

Malcolm looked away from him then, his face falling into his on-duty mask. "Hoshi had a theory."

"Great. Fucking great." Humiliation and anger were vying for control in Trip, with a damnable undercurrent of desire and a burning regret at getting a taste of what he could never have again. He suddenly couldn't stand to be there any more, and pushed his way past Malcolm, down the hallway and out of the club.

The night air was cool on his heated face, and he wandered down the street, not sure where he was going, but no longer in fear for his life. After a few turns back and forth, he found himself in front of an ornate metal gate, and pushed his way inside. It was a deserted courtyard, probably charming during the day. The buildings around him were dark and silent—small cafes, by the looks of them. There was a fountain with a wide rim in the middle—the mechanism was turned off, but Trip could see the stars rippling in the water's surface. He slumped down on the edge of the fountain, dropped his head into his hands, and gave a shuddering sigh.

The light footsteps on the stone cobbles alerted him to Malcolm's presence, as they were meant to. He could move without a sound when he wanted. Still doing his duty, still keeping the damn fool engineer safe.

"Trip?" Malcolm's voice was soft, and a hand squeezed his shoulder gently.

"It's been a long night." Trip chuckled harshly. "I oughta put you in for a commendation, I suppose. Goin' above and beyond like that." He hated the petty viciousness that leaked into his voice, but he'd been yanked around so often that night that he wondered about emotional whiplash.

Malcolm's hand trailed across his shoulder to rest at the base of his neck, his thumb kneading the stiff muscles there. Still taking care of him. The anger leeched out of him suddenly, and Trip leaned into the touch, deciding to take what comfort he could from it. Malcolm had saved his ass, and here he was, so wrapped up in his embarrassment that he was being an ungrateful asshole. Malcolm tugged at the back of his collar, and Trip wearily raised his head in response.

"I really am sorry about that." There was something hesitant in his manner, and Trip felt ashamed all over again.

"It's OK, really. You did what y'had to do. I'm not mad." Exhausted, yes, and he suspected the bittersweet memories would haunt him, but not mad. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Those gentle fingers touched his face again, and Trip looked at Malcolm. "Let me make it up to you." Malcolm cupped his cheek, then leaned in to kiss him.

Here was his first kiss, sweet and warm and full of possibilities. Tentative, which surprised Trip, given what he'd already done. But he realized that this was Malcolm, rather than Lieutenant Reed. There was no duty here, and this kiss was for no one but themselves.

The shyness and uncertainty in Malcolm's eyes made Trip smile. "Now you're nervous?"

Malcolm looked away down into the rippling water of the fountain. "Now I have time to be nervous. I did rather take advantage of you before."

"And quite nicely, too, I might add." A rueful smile played about Malcolm's lips at the compliment. "Hey, you ever read Jack London as a kid?"

Malcolm looked puzzled at the non sequitur. "No. I did read Rudyard Kipling, though."

"That'll do. You know that wolves mate for life." He picked up Malcolm's hand, idly, and ran his tongue along the index finger, tasting traces of himself under the nail. Malcolm's eyes smoldered.

"We're not wolves." His voice wavered a little, and Trip could see his breathing picking up. Perhaps the lieutenant hadn't been as immune to his seduction of Trip as he'd made it seem. He decided a little payback was in order.

He leaned in close enough that he and Malcolm were breathing each other's breath. "Maybe not, but I'd like to hear you howl."

And that, gentle reader, is another tale for another time.