The BLTS Archive - Screw Your Crewmate by Regina Bellatrix (reginabellatrix@creativemachinations.com) --- Archive: Yes to: EntSTCommunity, Tim Ruben, and BLTS. All others, please ask. Beta: shakespearespot N.B.: "Screw Your Roommate" is a Carleton College tradition in which screws are put into everybody's mailboxes during the fall term, signalling that the time has come to start searching for a date for your roommate for the campus-wide blind date. The dates aren't expected to get anywhere; it's just a way to have fun and meet new people. That said, prepare yourself for some good, old- fashioned, Trip/Malcolm smut!... with a little angst thrown in for good measure at the end. Set in a post first-season never-never land. ~RB --- Jonathan Archer was having serious regrets about allowing his Communications Officer to organise the shipwide blind date event she called "Screw Your Crewmate." It had all sounded so simple when Hoshi had proposed the idea to him. It had seemed to be an entertaining enough way to relieve the boredom of their current "exploratory dry-spell," as Trip put it. Hoshi had convinced him that it would be a good idea, that it would give everyone something to think about, a break from the mundane. "We used to do this at my college," she'd said. "It's a blast." The crewmen were in charge of setting up dates for their roommates, and the officers paired off, putting each up to finding a date for their partner. No one had to participate, of course, but it seemed as though most of the crew had bought into the idea. He was just glad, as he watched people scrambling to find a "screw" for their partners, that he was the captain and could not participate. That wasn't entirely true. He was participating in a way. Hoshi, wanting to be set up herself, had conned him into being the one to whom all set-up arrangements were sent. He was then in charge of coming up with cute code names for the pairs, like "Salt and Pepper," "Rick and Ilsa," and "Lancelot and Guenivere," so that they could identify their dates when the time came. He wasn't the only one not being set up, of course. T'Pol had refused to participate with her usual disdain for such frivolity, and Phlox preferred to observe the proceedings as an amateur anthropologist rather than participate. He'd expected that Lieutenant Reed would decline as well, but apparently Hoshi and Travis had ganged up on the reclusive Englishman and badgered him into agreeing to partner Travis. Hoshi's own partner was Trip, who had been one of the first to buy into her scheme. --- Archer sipped his iced tea as he sorted through the pairings, wracking his brain for suitably clever names for them. Crewman Cutler and Ensign Dorfenhaur were "Sugar" and "Spice," respectively. Hoshi and her screw, Ensign Carlyle, he dubbed "James Dean" and "Natalie Wood." The next set-up card he picked up almost caused him to choke. Travis and Hoshi had conspired to pair Malcolm Reed with one Trip Tucker. Tears streaming down his face, Archer tried not to giggle as he filled in nicknames for his Chief Engineer and Armoury Officer. He knew immediately what they should be called, no thought on the matter was necessary. It was too easy, really. --- Trip placed the sticky nametag on his chest, careful not to obscure any of the Hula girls decorating his Hawaiian shirt, and scanned the crowd packing the mess hall. The message he had got from the captain had told him at what time he was to report to the mess to find his "screw" and that he was "Benedict" looking for "Beatrice." As he worked his way further into the room he saw Crewman Kelly, one of his engineers, leaving with Crewman Novakovitch. Their tags announced them as "Jeeves and Wooster," and he snickered, wondering how Jon had come up with all of these pair- names. He caught sight of Malcolm standing in a corner looking overheated, his ox-blood red shirt open at the collar, and squirming uncomfortably. Knowing how actively Malcolm had resisted being pulled into this, Trip sauntered over to give his friend a little moral support and maybe help him locate his date. "Hey, Mal. How goes the battle? Hot enough in here for ya?" Malcolm looked up at Trip, and his face paled briefly before turning crimson. He muttered through clenched teeth, "I'm going to kill them. I should have known; especially when I got the names." Trip was confused and was about to ask for an explanation when his eyes settled on the nametag affixed to Malcolm's chest. There, in the Armoury Officer's perfect, precise handwriting, was the name Beatrice. "Oh Lord. What have they done?" "My thoughts exactly. Now what do we do?" "I don't know. What do you want to do? There's gonna be a movie in here later, can't remember what, an' there's dancin' in the observation lounge until oh-two-hundred." Malcolm looked mildly shocked. "You don't actually mean to go along with this, do you?" Trip shrugged. "Why not? Give Hoshi an' Travis their fun for the evening. We can plot revenge in the morning. We're big boys. I think we can handle goin' on one date with each other. This *is* the Twenty-Second Century after all." "I suppose so." "I know so. Look at it this way: it could be worse, Travis could have set you up with that man-eater from Sciences, whats-her- name, you know, the anthropologist." "Crewman Romanov?" "Yeah, that's her." "I shudder to contemplate it. I suppose you are something of a bargain, considering that." "While that sounded suspiciously like you were dammin' me with faint praise, I'm gonna let it go this time." "Very kind." Trip offered Malcolm his arm and said, "C'mon, Mal, let's get outta here. I feel like dancin'." "I suppose that you think you ought to lead because you're the superior officer, don't you?" "No, I think I oughtta lead `cause I'm taller." Malcolm laughed at the comment and allowed himself to be escorted from the room. --- In retrospect, Trip realised that he should have known Malcolm would be the better dancer of the two of them, considering the way the man moved with such incredible grace and agility. Granted, it was most notable in combat situations, but it was there all the time, nonetheless. A half an hour into their evening of dancing, Trip had bowed to the other man's greater skill and let him lead. Malcolm had taught him a few moves he hadn't known before, and they both had an outrageously good time in the process. The evening had wound down, ballroom technique giving way to simply wrapping their arms around each other and swaying to the music. With a bit of a start, Trip realised that the DJ had packed up and left at some point, leaving him and Malcolm dancing to their own internal music. "Hey, Mal?" "Hmmm?" Malcolm's head did not lift from its spot on Trip's shoulder, and the engineer rubbed his cheek against the soft brown locks. "Music's stopped." "I know, but it's nice in here. Peaceful." He hugged Trip tighter. "The stars are so beautiful. Whoever came up with the idea of dancing in the observation lounge is brilliant." "Hoshi, I think. Either that or Jon. Grade A hopeless romantic either way." The conversation trailed off into contented silence, and Malcolm sighed at the feel of Trip's arms wrapped around him. His own hands started to trail languidly up from the blonde's narrow waist to his broad shoulders and back down again. There was a pleasant heat working its way up from his groin, and Malcolm decided that, for once in his life, he was just going to stop thinking and go where the moment took him. The muscled column of Trip's neck was terribly inviting, and he began to kiss it. Trip moaned in response, and he nipped lightly at the underside of his jaw, delighting in the tremor that ran through the heavenly body in his arms at the stimulus. Hands began to roam slowly over his back, dipping down to squeeze his ass every so often. When the hands stopped there, pulling him in tight so that he could feel the clothed erection of his partner pressing against him, he leaned his head back to look up into desire-clouded blue eyes. He caught his breath as he was distracted by the motion of Trip's tongue darting out to wet his lips. Fire raced in his veins, and he was totally undone the moment Trip thrust deliberately against him, bringing their erections into contact with one another. The next thing Malcolm knew, he had his tongue in Trip's mouth and was kissing him senseless. Or was he the one being kissed senseless? He wasn't sure. His clothing disappeared without him having any real recollection as to how it was removed. Trip's clothes were gone as well, however, so he wasn't overly concerned about the issue. Bare back pressed up against the transparent aluminium of the lounge window, Malcolm hooked a leg up around Trip and growled in a voice barely recognisable as his own, "Take me." Trip's response was immediate. He lifted Malcolm up, bracing the smaller man against the window and spreading him wide in what passed for preparation for what came next. He managed enough control to only bury himself in Malcolm half-way with his first thrust, but that control was lost utterly when the sound of the Englishman moaning his name reached his ears. In another moment, he was sheathed to his balls in the incredible body in his arms. Malcolm's legs were wrapped firmly around him, hands clutching at his shoulders, and he managed to place a reverent kiss on the slightly parted pink lips before sliding most of the way out and thrusting back in. Too far gone to have anything approaching technique, Trip's movements were ragged, uneven. He still managed to hit Malcolm's prostate, however, and the second time he raked across the sensitive nub he bit down on Malcolm's collarbone. The added sensation was all the dark haired man needed to climax, and Trip came with a final thrust moments later as Malcolm tightened around him. Trip didn't know how he did it, but he set Malcolm back on his feet before his own legs gave out and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Malcolm's legs didn't hold up much better, and he was soon on the deck with Trip. Despite his post-coitial lethargy, Malcolm was still feeling amorous and pulled himself over to the blonde. Trip lay back, stretching out as Malcolm began to kiss his chest, sucking at his nipples and drawing incoherent moans from him. Dizziness subsiding, Trip began to feel a familiar ache renewing itself down below. Malcolm had recovered quicker than he, Trip realised as the lieutenant's hard length brushed against him. Rolling over onto his stomach, despite Malcolm's little mewls of protest as the nipple he was working at was pulled from his mouth, Trip spread his legs wide and said, "Your turn." Not as intensely desperate as before, Malcolm took his time playing with Trip. Kissing and caressing his way down the broad back, he moved to kneel between Trip's legs as he reached the perfectly rounded globes of his buttocks. Kneading them, he nipped lightly at the firm flesh a couple of times before starting in with his tongue. Trip squirmed impatiently underneath him, and Malcolm decided to tease him a bit more. Tongue dipping into the cleft between Trip's buttocks, he could feel his cock throb in response to the Southerner's incoherent moans. Teasing at the opening to Trip's body rewarded him with louder moans and more squirming. By now, Malcolm was so hard it hurt and, not able to wait any longer, he took Trip as he had been taken earlier, in two swift thrusts. He managed a bit more style than Trip had, sliding slowly out until only the head of his penis remained lodged in his lover's body and then thrusting back in hard and fast. Trip pushed back to meet him with every thrust, muttering out his pleasure all the while. When he came he did so screaming out Malcolm's name. That scream had to have been the most erotic thing Malcolm had ever heard. He came before the sound died on Trip's lips, collapsing on top of him afterward. An unknown amount of time later, cognition began to return to Malcolm's sex-fried brain, and he rather reluctantly pulled out of Trip, rolling off the engineer's back onto the floor next to him. "How do you feel?" Malcolm asked, suddenly growing apprehensive. "Like no matter how sore I am tomorrow mornin'," Trip rolled onto his side to face Malcolm, "it was worth it." He leaned in for a kiss. "Thank you, Mal." "For what?" "For lettin' go like that. For lettin' me see wild, uncontrolled Malcolm Reed. I like him, an' I hope you'll let me see him again sometime." Malcolm blushed to the tips of his ears as he replied, "That could probably be arranged. Now, I think, however, that it's time to put him away and bring out sane, responsible Malcolm Reed. We really ought to get dressed and get this place cleaned up before any early-morning stargazers wander in." "I suppose you're right. Now where did my shirt get off to?" --- By 08.00 hours, Malcolm was sitting at Tactical, marginally rested, clean and uniformed, and only slightly uncomfortable. He'd sat down more gingerly than usual, repressing a small wince, but he thought he had escaped notice. At least until he saw the smirk on Hoshi's face as she turned from her station to greet him. "Did you have a good evening, Lieutenant?" "It was ... passable," he hedged. "Maria Tilsdale told me at breakfast that you and Commander Tucker went dancing in the observation lounge last night ... and that you two were still going when she left." "Oh? Who was she with?" Malcolm thought he heard a couple of snickers from the Situation Room behind him and he knew he heard Travis trying to stifle one, but he ignored them. "Maria wasn't with anyone, Sir. She was the DJ." He coughed in embarrassment and said, "Oh." There didn't seem to be anything else he could say. Hoshi had neatly cornered him, and he knew it. He was extremely grateful when the captain, Trip, and T'Pol all wandered on to the bridge in the next few minutes, saving him from any further grilling by the young ensign. Still, he would have liked to have punched Trip in the arm when the man hovered behind him at his station, as he was wont to do on occasion. Five minutes passed without more than a few pleasantries and routine statements being issued when Archer swivelled his chair around to face Tactical. "Trip, you don't have to stand there, you know. You do have your own station on the bridge. Why don't you go sit down?" "That's alright, Cap'n, I'm fine right here." "That wasn't a suggestion, Trip. Go sit down. You're making my bridge look cluttered." "Cap'n, I..." "Sit!" Malcolm couldn't decide whether he should laugh or be utterly horrified as he watched Trip trudge across to the engineering station and ever so slowly lower himself into his chair. Archer didn't do more than quirk his eyebrows at the engineer's obvious discomfort, and Malcolm let out the breath he'd been holding. Perhaps, despite the fact that he was sure everyone on the bloody ship knew about him and Trip, he would survive this day after all. --- Malcolm sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for Trip to arrive so they could have their heavy-duty chat about them, their relationship, and what it all meant. After the day's nerve-wracking lunch, Malcolm had insisted upon it, even though Trip seemed willing enough to carelessly bound head-first into the love affair. The two had eaten the mid-day meal together, or to be more precise, Trip had eaten while Malcolm picked at his food. The Armoury Officer had felt as though all eyes in the mess were on them, and it had sapped his appetite. His embarrassment was complete when Trip kissed him goodbye before wandering off to Engineering. As naturally reserved a person as he was, Malcolm found Trip's relaxed openness rather disturbing. It was obvious that ground rules would have to be laid out at the beginning of this relationship, for relationship there certainly seemed to be, to minimise potential sources of future conflict and embarrassment. Or should that be conflict over embarrassment? The chime on his door sounded, and Malcolm called for his visitor to enter. Trip bounded in, moving immediately to where the Englishman sat and planting a kiss on his lips. Malcolm pushed his lover away, trying to look stern. "Trip, stop it. We need to talk." Trip sat heavily on the mattress next to Malcolm, taken aback by the man's abrupt refusal of him. Confused and apprehensive, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?" "No!" The speed and vehemence of Malcolm's reply was reassuring, and Trip waited patiently for him to continue. "No, I'm not having second thoughts. Lord knows that I had no intention, when I accepted this post, of getting involved in a ... romantic relationship. I had every intention of avoiding it like the plague, in point of fact, but I ... I find I want this. Quite a bit actually." Malcolm glanced down, laughing self-depreciatingly. "I had no idea, really, until last night. I guess Hoshi and Travis know me better than I do." "They're real observant, those two. So, what's the problem, Mal?" "It's just... It seems like everybody on this bloody ship knows about us already, before *I've* even adjusted to the concept. It's disconcerting, to say the least. "You know what a private person I am, how ... how hard it is for me to let anyone in. I'm still reeling from last night. That wild, uncontrolled Malcolm Reed you said you liked so much, he scares the hell out of me. I've worked most of my life at keeping him in check, and now that control has slipped. And everybody knows it." "That's a bit of an overstatement, don'tcha think, Mal?" "Ensign Tilsdale was DJ'ing last night. She told Hoshi about our dancing past when she left. She was probably in there this morning to retrieve her equipment and smelled the disinfectant we used to clean the place up with. Speculation ought to be able to fill in the blanks for her. It's a sure bet that if she spoke to Hoshi about it she's told others. Not to mention all of the people on the bridge who heard when Hoshi brought it up this morning. You know how fast gossip flies on this ship. I'm sure everyone has heard one version or another by now. I am not overstating the matter." "Okay, okay, you win. But, Mal, it's not a big deal. I bet most, if not all, of them are pretty happy for us. Who cares if they get a little chuckle out of our ... enthusiasm? Why worry about it?" "I worry about it because being in the centre of such attention makes me ... uncomfortable. Especially when the focus is on such a private matter as my love life. We are both officers on the same ship. There are quarters in which our being together would be considered highly inappropriate." "I don't know what to say, Mal. These people are your friends, you know. They wouldn't hurt you intentionally. Don't you think they deserve to know what makes you happy?" Trip gave Malcolm a quirky grin. "I do make you happy, don't I?" Malcolm lifted a hand and caressed the side of his lover's face. "Oh, yes. Ecstatically so. "How about a compromise, dearest? If you promise not to kiss me in public, not for a while yet anyway, I will work on being more open ... with everyone. I'll try not to be such a recluse. I'll ... let my friends know what makes me happy. Good enough?" "The only thing good enough for me, Mal, is you. I'll do whatever it takes to be with you. If that means I can't be as affectionate in public as I'd like, well, I'll live." Trip pressed his lips to Malcolm's in a sweet kiss, letting one hand wander to his lover's waist and around to his back, pulling the man close. "Just one question for you, Mister Tucker," said Malcolm, his lips moving barest millimetres from Trip's own. "Do I make you happy?" "Ecstatically so." --- The End