The BLTS Archive - Dutch Courage
by akire (akire@sapienter.net)

---

Disclaimer: I need to win lotto before I can claim the pretty
as my own. Until then, they belong to Paramount

Dedication: For St Ced

Archiving: Yes please, just let me know

Notes: Written a long time ago, but for some reason, never posted.
Onto the show.


---

"Hoshi!"

She shook her head so fiercely several strands of jet-black
hair slid loose and whipped around her face. "Trust me,
Trip, it's foolproof. Malcolm doesn't remember a thing while
drunk. Why do you think he's so careful about drinking during
ship functions?"

"He didn't seem to mind drinking on the shuttlepod that
time," Trip sulked, unwilling to concede.

Hoshi smiled and pushed her point. "Trip, he thought he was
going to die. I doubt the morning after the night before was
high on his list of concerns." She reached up and grabbed
him by his shoulders. "Get him drunk. Tell him. See how he
reacts."

"What if he freaks out?"

"He'll have forgotten before the hangover kicks in."

A worse thought struck Trip. "What if he doesn't?"

Hoshi grinned, showing teeth. "Then I'm sure waking up in
bed with you will be sufficient reminder." She ducked her
head as she stepped nimbly away.

"Hoshi!"

"Trip!" she parroted back. "I wouldn't be donating the booze
if I didn't think it would work," she reiterated. "You'll
have to do the rest. Trust me, Trip. Would I steer you
wrong?" She looked up at him through her lashes, and watched
him melt before her assault.

"Fine, fine, I'll do it! I'll do it, you foul wench."

She laughed and stepped up to him to give him a sisterly
hug. "Just remember, I want all the details."

---

The box Hoshi had left for him on his desk had enough proof
in it to start a small distillery. Picking a bottle at
random, he pulled it out, read the label, and whistled. Good
stuff, he thought to himself as he cracked the seal and
poured a shot into one of the glasses she had so
thoughtfully provided. He wondered where she got it all from
as he poured the alcohol down his throat and let the burn
fill his unsettled stomach.

The door chimed, and he let the bottle rejoin its brothers
with a glassy clatter. Reaching over, he thumbed the door
release.

Malcolm was standing there, wearing sweats and a slightly
worried, confused expression. Wordlessly, Trip bowed his
friend into his quarters.

Malcolm's nose wrinkled slightly at the alcohol fumes as he
took in Trip's wrinkled t-shirt, the empty glass in his
hand, the box of booze on the desk. "Trip, are you okay?"

Avoidance, Trip decided, was he best strategy. And he was
brought up to always be hospitable. Kill two birds with one
stone. "Drink?"

"No thank you."

Damn. "Come on, Malcolm. It's no fun getting drunk alone."

Malcolm moved as warily as a man in a minefield as he
crossed the small space to stand between Trip and the
bottles. "Why are you getting drunk, Trip?"

Damn, busted. "Because I feel like it," he offered lamely.

"Is there..." Malcolm paused, obviously in unfamiliar
territory. "Is there anything you want to talk about, Trip?"

Taking the metaphorical bull by the horns, Trip grabbed the
bottle and another glass. "Have a drink," he repeated, more
forcefully. Obviously expecting the drink to lead to
confession, Malcolm took the glass without demure and downed
the shot with a toss of his head. He blinked at the sting of
the alcohol, but offered no other comment. "Come on,
Malcolm, try and keep up," he lied outrageously as he
refilled the shotglass. "Unless you feel you can't hold it."

---

"And so I kissed her!" Malcolm's speech was just beginning
to slur, his faintly breathy giggles still echoing around
the room. Malcolm giggled when he got drunk, Trip
remembered. He groped over Malcolm's legs, looking for a
bottle at floor level that they hadn't decimated. "I can't
believe you did that to a lady. What'd she do?"

Malcolm grinned like a child and upended the last of the
scotch. "She slapped my face and ran screaming for the
constable."

Half-draped over Malcolm's legs, he looked upwards blearily,
seeking his face. "She didn't?"

Malcolm nodded and with the care of a drunk put the bottle
aside. "She did. Eagle Scouts' honor."

Trip giggled and collapsed where he was, curling up slightly
so his head was cushioned up against Malcolm's thigh. "I
wouldn't have slapped ya. I woulda kissed ya back."

The body beneath him stiffened. 'Oh shit,' the single sober
part of Trip's brain cursed. 'Did I just say that out loud?'

The leg moved away from his head. Forcing himself to breath,
even though he felt like puking, Trip kept his eyes firmly
on the industrial weave of the floor covering. A head,
upside-down, moved into view. "Trip?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't believe you." Lightning fast, even while drunker
than a skunk, Malcolm pushed in, putting his body behind the
lunge. Catching Trip's shoulder, he caught the other man up
and pushed him against the frame of his bunk with almost
bone-jarring force. Trip opened his mouth to protest, but
before he could utter a noise of complaint, Malcolm was
there, all liquid heat and smooth skin, his mouth moving to
fit the contours of Trip's, his tongue darting out to lick
the other man's lips. Trip did the first thing that came
into his mind.

He moaned with shameless abandon and spread his legs,
grabbing Malcolm around the shoulders to drag him up and
against his chest. Malcolm moved with serpentine grace, his
fingers spreading out along the curve of Trip's ribs, fiery
hot even through a layer of fabric.

Trip groaned even louder as Malcolm moved, beginning to etch
little nips and sucks along the line of his jaw. "Trip?"

"Yeah," he panted.

"How drunk are you?"

Forcing himself to focus, he looked over to the box that
Hoshi had gifted him. Two, maybe three beers, plus whatever
Malcolm had let him have out of the scotch. "Not that
drunk," he arched as Malcolm sealed his lips over the pulse
point in his neck and sucked. "Getting soberer by the
second."

A graze of teeth over skin. "Good."

It seemed only polite. "How drunk are you?"

A slight chuckle. "Not very. I have a rather high tolerance
to scotch." The long rasp of tongue under his jawline,
causing a frisson that ran the entire length of Trip's body.
"When I choose to."

Trip fisted the back of Malcolm's shirt, wanting to get his
hands, his mouth, anything, onto skin. But Malcolm had him
fairly pinned against the frame of the bunk. "Handy skill."

It sounded more like a lions purr than a human voice. "You
have no idea."

"You got any other secret talents I should know about." Trip
felt wanton, abandoning himself to sensation ever as some
part of him managed to continue having an almost rational
conversation. He arched his back into the touch as Malcolm's
hands meandered lower.

"Oh, quite a few, Mister Tucker." Trip opened his eyes a
crack just in time to see Malcolm's all-devouring grin. "For
example."

The head ducked down, and Trip almost bucked off the floor
as Malcolm mouthed his half-hard cock through the thin
fabric of his sweat pants. He writhed on the floor, not
caring how ridiculous he looked, not caring a damn about
anything except the hot, wet sensation seeping through too
many layers of clothes and making him harder than he had
been since they'd shipped out. He tipped his head forward,
not giving a damn about the awkward angle, just wanting to
watch Malcolm mouth his dick. "Fucking hell."

Beguiling eyes looked up at him from beneath too-pretty
lashes. "I'd rather you fuck me."

Trip forgot how to breathe.

Malcolm slid back up along Trip's body, rearranging him as
he moved so by the time their faces were level again, they
were both lying straight out on the floor. "But there's so
much else I'd like to do with you like this. Bed?"

"Yes, please."

Malcolm planted his hands on either side of Trip's head,
pushing himself up until his body formed an inverted
triangle over Trip. Reaching down, he planted a slow, nasty
kiss on Trip's mouth, teeth nipping at lips, tugging him up
in a none-too-subtle indication.

Trip tumbled into bed to land on top of Malcolm, the other
man taking his weight with barely more than a grunt. Trip
didn't wait, just dove right in, mouth licking and tasting
whatever skin was available. Firm hands gripped his head as
he began to nibble down Malcolm's throat. "Don't leave a
mark. I've got sparring training tomorrow." His hands
dragged down Trip's back and hooked themselves under the hem
of his tee-shirt. "They have no respect for their commanding
officer."

Trip laughed at the thought of the security team giving
their highly regarded leader hell for showing up with a
hickey as he moved lower, nuzzling at the collar of
Malcolm's shirt. Following his silent commands, he broke
away and pulled back slightly to let Malcolm slip him out of
his shirt. As the wadded up ball of clothe rebounded against
the far wall, Trip dove back in again, his hands questing up
under Malcolm's long shirt to find the smooth, hard planes
of his stomach. Not even waiting, he ducked his head and
began licking broad strokes along the exposed strip of skin
between shirt and pants, and was gratified to feel Malcolm
shiver slightly beneath him.

"Ticklish?"

"Unfortunately."

Trip grinned broadly. "Relax, I'll be good." He pushed back
into a sitting position to watch Malcolm's expert shimmy out
of his sweat shirt, licking his lips at the long smooth
lines that were revealed to him. "Nice," he murmured.

"I'm glad I meet with your approval." Pushing up on his
elbows, Malcolm stole a kiss. His mouth still tasted of
scotch, blended with the unmistakable scent that was
uniquely him. Trip closed his eyes and moved with Malcolm as
he lay them back down, taking most of his weight on his arms
as they settled against the sheets. The flutter of Malcolm's
eyelashes against his cheek told him that he had closed his
own eyes. The little sighs and moans he was making in the
back of his throat told Trip that Malcolm was relaxing
against him again. Taking the initiative, Trip broke the
kiss and began sliding down Malcolm's chest, taking his time
to identify every mark and scar.

Swirling his tongue around Malcolm's belly button, he paused
at the waistband. "Can I..?"

Malcolm just waved him down regally, eyes still closed, face
still almost glowing with pleasure. With a nervous lick of
his lips, Trip hooked his fingers into the waistband and
gently eased his pants down.

He had done this before, certainly, but for some reason he
felt more nervous than he had the first time he had ever
tried this. It was Malcolm, he decided. He wanted to make
this more than good, more than memorable, because he knew
Malcolm wasn't the type to give second chances.

Trip started slowly, cautiously, seeing what he liked, what
made him react. Long tongue sliding up the underside,
against the vein caused a long, slow shiver. Malcolm writhed
beneath him as he took the head into his mouth, hollowing
his cheeks, relaxing into a rhythm as Malcolm's voice became
hoarse, pleading. Breathing through his nose, Trip edged
down further, forcing himself to relax, focussing on the
inarticulate little cries of pleasure the man beneath him
was mewling. "Trip, please, I'm going..."

Trip pulled back sharply, dragging out of Malcolm a long,
drawn-out cry as he shuddered and came. Licking his lips,
Trip bent back over, lapping up the salty droplets the
glistened on Malcolm's skin. He writhed beneath Trip, his
hands coming up to run through his close-cropped hair.
"Tickles," Malcolm panted. Trip grinned and licked up along
Malcolm's flank, the rasp of his tongue almost audible.
"Trip!" Malcolm yelped, yanking him ferociously back up and
away from sensitive skin to claim a deep kiss.

With an ease that belied their lack of experience with each
other, they settled down side-by-side on the bed, kissing
each other leisurely, taking the time to explore and
experiment. Confident hands slowly roamed up and down Trip's
back before sliding beneath his waistband to cup the curve
of his ass. "Well, that was..."

"Excellent?" Trip asked hopefully.

Malcolm laughed, a sound Trip loved. "That too. I was going
to say quick."

Trip frowned and leaned back slightly. "I didn't mean to
push"

Malcolm silenced him with a kiss, dragging him back into his
body. "Good quick, I mean." He laughed again, quietly. "Then
again, we've been the designated ships' old married couple
for the past two years, so..."

It was Trip's turn to laugh. "Where'd ya hear that?"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "It is tactically sound to access
all possible sources of information."

Trip snuggled in to plant a row of kisses under his jaw.
"You mean you listened to the grapevine."

Malcolm tried to look dignified and insulted, but the effect
was marred by a huge yawn.

Trip leaned back again, studying Malcolm's face, the slowly
developing five-o'clock shadow, the dark rings under his
eyes. "You look tired."

Malcolm gave a weak grin. "I was actually heading to bed
when Hoshi stopped me and asked me to check in with you..."
he trailed off as realization set in.

Trip jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the box of
bottles. "Who do you think my supplier is?"

Malcolm coolly raised an eyebrow. "Get me drunk and seduce
me?"

Trip laughed. "No, get me drunk so I could find my courage
to seduce you."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Hoshi Sato: Intergalactic
Matchmaker. I may have to have words with her in the
morning."

"Be careful. The cost of drinks was a blow-by-blow account."

Malcolm sniffed and snuggled in closer to Trip. "Tell her to
take a picture. Mmmm, you're warm."

"And you're sticky."

Malcolm looked down at himself and frowned. "Hold that
thought." Clambering bodily over Trip, he disappeared into
the bathroom, reemerging a few moments later drying himself
with a towel. With a lithe leap, he rolled over Trip and
reassumed his original position. "Better?"

Trip reached over to pull up the blankets before winding his
arms around Malcolm. "Much." He pressed a kiss to the other
man's forehead. "Now get some sleep."

Malcolm murmured his assent, his head already nestled into
the crook of Trip's arm. "Goodnight, Trip."

"Goodnight, Malcolm. Sweet dreams."

---

The End