The BLTS Archive - Bondage We Once Suffered, Blessings We Now Enjoy by Regina Bellatrix (reginabellatrix@creativemachinations.com) --- Archive: Just tell me where it's going. Spoilers: Two Days, Two Nights Beta: none N.B.: This is my version of the events in "Two Days, Two Nights," and it is distinctly NC-17. A small amount of dialogue has been borrowed from the original, but even that has been twisted a bit. I have chosen to ignore the Starfleet regulations against fraternisation with lower-ranking officers, as mentioned by T'Pol at the beginning of "Fallen Hero," because it is contradicted by evidence from two earlier episodes. Besides, it's inconvenient for my story. ;) The title is a paraphrase from Tacitus' *Eulogy for Gnaeus Julius Agricola.* ~RB --- Malcolm's head hurt, really hurt. He'd had a number of hangovers in his time, but none could compete with this one. It must have been the five ... or was it six?... Risan MaiTais he had drunk, either that or the stun blast. In all likelihood it was the both together. He tried to think past the pain threatening to split his head apart and was rewarded with the realisation that it must be morning, or day at any rate, because of the sunlight streaming in through one high window, warming one side of his body and stubbornly pushing past his sealed eyelid. Slowly, bit by agonising bit, other little facts became known to him as he lay there, eyes still firmly shut. Fact number one: when the shapeshifting aliens had decided to take his and Trip's clothing they apparently hadn't deemed it necessary to leave them anything by way of modesty coverings. Much to his dismay, Malcolm found that he was naked as the day he was born. Fact number two: for whatever reason, the aliens had trussed him up like a pig awaiting slaughter. Fact number three: not only had they tied him up but they had tied him to Trip. Malcolm was lying on top of the tall blonde man, his head resting on the lightly furred chest, arms wrapped around him and secured together at the wrists, their feet tied together at the ankle. He could feel Trip's hands at the small of his back where they had been secured, even as his own. It was an utterly horrifying situation. On one hand he revelled in the beautiful feel of the engineer's skin against his own, and on the other he was terrified that his body would betray to the man underneath him just how much he did enjoy it. Not to mention, of course, the prospect of the two of them being found like this by the *Enterprise* crew when they didn't make the pick-up. *Shit, Malcolm, how did you let this happen?! You were so pleased when Trip asked you to go clubbing with him, to go pick up women with him, that despite the fact that you really would have rather picked up him, you said yes. And what did you do? To cover up your nervousness and jealousy you got royally pissed, before the girls even arrived at that! When the two of you did manage to pick up a couple of "girls" you drank even more and then happily followed them into a wine cellar, where you were promptly mugged, by girls who weren't really girls.* His mental tirade against himself ended abruptly as Trip moaned and stirred beneath him. Carefully, he opened his eyes and lifted his head so that he could see Trip's face, resting his chin on the broad chest. "Uhhhgggg... Oh, my head. I had waaay too much to drink last night." "The fact that you were shot might have something to do with it as well," Malcolm responded wryly. "Malcolm?!" Blue eyes flew open and rope scraped across Malcolm's back as Trip convulsively tried to move his arms. "What the hell!?!" "Ouch! Would you be careful? I'd like to escape this with as few rope burns as possible." "Oh man, I was hopin' it was all a bad dream." He paused for a minute, taking in their situation. "I can't believe they took *all* of our clothing." "Believe it." Malcolm sighed heavily. "I wonder why the Vulcan Database didn't have any warnings about crime." A guilty cringe and grimace worked their way across the Southerner's features, and he said, "Well, it said that crime was rare." Malcolm's eyes went wide. "What?! Why didn't you tell me that? How could you be so stupid?" "You think this is *my* fault?!" "You *were* all too willing to follow two aliens into a wine cellar!" "Two gorgeous aliens! Don't forget they were gorgeous!!" "They looked like large, hairless bats!" "Not at first, they didn't! `Sides, I don't recall havin' to twist your arm." Malcolm wanted to shake some sense into the other man and came very close to yelling that he would be willing to follow Trip through Hell and back again, if need be, but was distracted by his better sense and the painful realisation that his arms had gone numb. Taking a deep, calming breath, he resolutely changed the subject. "That is a discussion for a later time. Right now we need to find a way out of here, so we can avoid the humiliation of being found like this ... and we need to roll over. The circulation has been cut off in my arms; I can't feel them anymore." Trip swallowed whatever it was he had been about to say and nodded. "Count of three? One... two... three!" As one, the two men rolled, exchanging places and relieving the pressure on Malcolm's arms. Malcolm just barely managed to stifle a moan as Trip's weight settled on top of him, his legs jerking as he involuntarily tried to spread them and met the resistance of the rope holding his ankles together. "Course, you know, now my arms are gonna go numb," said Trip, oblivious to his friend's discomfort. He pulled his arms up along Malcolm's back, prompting another small cry of pain from the man. "Sorry, sorry. Hmmm... Maybe if we roll to the side, I can get my arms over your head and to where I can work at the knots with m' teeth." Without another word, Trip rolled so that they were both lying on their sides. He straightened his arms out and lifted them over Malcolm's head, quickly rolling back on top of the lieutenant once they were out of the way. All of this rolling about was more than Malcolm's poor body could handle. For one long, horrifying moment he felt his growing erection press into Trip. His terror was mitigated when the sensation of Trip's hard length grinding into his own told him that he wasn't the only one who found the situation ... stimulating. Equal amounts of hope and wonder were present in his voice when he asked, "Trip, is... is that what I think it is?" Trip answered by bending his head down and capturing Malcolm's mouth with his own in a passionate kiss. Tongues twined about one another, and Trip slowly thrust his hips forward. Malcolm shivered with delight and moaned into Trip's mouth. The pain of circulation returning to his arms was not enough to distract him from more pleasurable pursuits, and he thrust back, eagerly seeking the friction caused by their erect members rubbing against each other. Breaking the kiss for air, Trip playfully brushed an unruly lock of chocolate-dark hair from Malcolm's forehead with his nose. "You know, if we'd only stayed at the hotel, we could've done this in a much more comfortable setting." "Somehow, I seriously doubt either of us would have got up the courage to suggest such a thing, had we stayed at the hotel." "Prob'ly not," agreed Trip, leaning in for a tender kiss. Malcolm gave another futile tug at the rope binding his ankles. "Before we get too carried away, do you suppose we could work at removing a few of these ropes?" "Yeah, I suppose we should." Trip pulled his arms in, bringing his hands near his face, and began to work at loosening the knot with his teeth. Luckily, it was a fairly simple knot, and it wasn't long before his hands were free. The pair once again shifted onto their sides, and Malcolm lifted his arms over Trip, who then proceeded to undo the rope at their ankles while the Englishman took care of the knot at his hands in the same manner as Trip had. Freed from all of the restrictive rope, the two men simply sat for a few moments, admiring each other from a small distance. Trip made the first move, reaching out to pull the smaller man to him, crushing him against his chest in a warm embrace. Malcolm gazed up into clear topaz eyes, shifting to wrap his muscular legs about Trip as he slid into the blonde man's lap. The Southerner shivered at the contact, pupils dilating with desire. Malcolm's tongue flicked out to wet his pink lips, and he said in a husky voice, "What do you say we take advantage of our freedom, and the time we'll have to wait until the club opens again so that we can leave, by finishing what we started?" "I say," began Trip, sliding his hands down Malcolm's back to his buttocks, "that that sounds like a wonderful idea." He leaned forward to gently nip at the lieutenant's jawline, simultaneously squeezing his ass. Malcolm clutched at his lover's shoulders as his body arched in reaction, engorged penis shoving up against Trip's firm stomach. From his new, slightly elevated position he could feel the head of Trip's cock brushing against his ass and he rolled his hips forward to provide better access. He brushed the commander's ear with his lips, whispering into it, "I need to feel you inside me, Trip. Now." Trip sought out Malcolm's face with his eyes and said, "Are you sure? We don't exactly have any lubricant or anything here. I... I don't want to hurt you." "Please, Trip," he was begging now, "before I go insane wanting you. Just go slow. You won't hurt me. Please." The other man nodded his assent. Their lips met for another kiss as Trip's fingers began to carefully probe the tight opening to Malcolm's body. When he had determined the ring of muscle to have been sufficiently relaxed, he removed the digits and, signalling Malcolm to start lowering himself a bit, guided the tip of his shaft to the hole. With a bit of gentle manoeuvring, the mushroom shaped head popped through the ring of muscle, causing both men to gasp at the sensation. Slowly, centimetre by deliberate centimetre, Malcolm continued to lower himself until Trip was fully buried in him. They stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard and nuzzling softly at each other's necks. Once he'd recovered enough control, Malcolm raised himself slightly, coming back down hard on the engineer. Soon, Trip began to thrust in time with his movements, pushing up as he slid down. After a bit of this, Malcolm adjusted the angle slightly so that when Trip thrust into him the man struck his prostate, sending waves of pleasure through him. It did not take much of this to trigger Malcolm's orgasm. His seed spilled out between them, his body pulsating around Trip, who came only moments later, filling him with warmth. They lay together, kissing and petting, for a long while afterwards. Malcolm revelled in the feelings of happiness and contentment washing over him as he snuggled up in Trip's arms, surprisingly comfortable on the hard cellar floor. The thought of the floor reminded him of their predicament, and he chuckled softly. "What're you laughing at?" Trip asked, tracing a light finger across one of Malcolm's high cheekbones. "Just thinking about the lovely irony of us coming in here to pick up women and ending up making love to each other." "Guess it is kinda funny. If we weren't such a couple of blockheads, we could've spared ourselves some of the more embarrassing aspects of this little adventure. Like figuring out how we're gonna get outta here later on." Malcolm leaned in and kissed the tip of Trip's nose. "Why don't we cross that bridge when we come to it? In the meantime, I should like to be utterly indolent and sleep in this little patch of sunlight, folded in your arms." Trip grinned and said, "Sounds good to me, darlin'. Sounds good to me." --- The End