The BLTS Archive - Broadening Horizons Broadening Horizons Sequence One by Gigi Sinclair (gigitrek@gmail.com --- Archive: Ask first. Spoilers for: Horizon Disclaimer: If only. If only. Notes: In which I return to my slash roots (they're light brown, by the way.) Short, quick, and with no socially redeeming features whatsoever. Date: April 2003 --- Travis Mayweather looked up from his book. The voices that he'd heard in the Jeffries tube were getting louder. Sure enough, a moment later, Malcolm poked his head up and looked around the zero-g chamber. He must have been distracted because, trained and able as he was in the art of reconnaissance, he didn't spot Travis hovering in the upper corner. "All clear, Trip." "Then get movin', darlin'. My legs are stiffenin' up here." Malcolm obligingly hopped out of the Jeffries tube, extended a hand and pulled his lover up after him. Travis knew they were lovers, although he didn't think anyone else did. He was Malcolm's closest friend (well, second closest anyway) on board. He alone could interpret the little smiles, the renewed spring in the step, the faint blushes that appeared on Malcolm's cheeks whenever Commander Tucker came onto the bridge. Those little clues had been enough to lead Travis to the conclusion that the two of them had finally started sleeping together. Well, those clues, and the steamy picture of Malcolm, nude, sweaty and lying on a bed that wasn't his own, that had been included. . . accidentally, Travis assumed. . . on the PADD of photos Trip had given him to show his mother. "Now then, darlin'." Trip put his arms around Malcolm's waist, floating him into the nearest wall. "I gotta tell you, I've heard some mighty interestin' stories about English boardin' schools." "Is that so?" Malcolm arched an eyebrow. "What kind of stories?" "Well," Trip leaned in until he was sucking on Malcolm's earlobe. Malcolm shivered a little, drawing his hands up Trip's back. "One of them. . . " As Trip's tongue swirled into Malcolm's ear, Travis decided he'd better make his presence known. While watching the commander and the lieutenant engage in free-floating sex wasn't a horrific prospect, the idea of what Malcolm would do if he noticed Travis was more than horrific, it was downright terrifying. He cleared his throat and bobbed down to the deck. Trip and Malcolm both looked up. Malcolm immediately pushed Trip away, blushing a deep shade of puce. "Well, Commander," he said, briskly and lamely, "As you can see, everything appears to be in order here. If you will follow me, we can inspect the cargo bay. . . " "Malcolm." Trip leaned back, smirking. "I think you can give it a rest." "I don't mind," Travis put in, quickly. Rather the reverse, in fact. He'd spent enough time listening to Malcolm complain about Trip. Although the Boomer schools tended to favour warp theory and ration pack cuisine classes over Shakespeare, Travis knew the meaning of the phrase 'he doth protest too much.' Obviously, when it counted, Malcolm hadn't protested at all. "I think it's great, actually." He grinned at them. Trip grinned back, but Malcolm looked uncertain. "You won't tell anyone, will you?" "What? You ashamed of me, darlin'?" Trip looked exceedingly amused. "I gotta admit, that boardin' school line was a little weak, but I got plenty of better ones. . . " "Trip." "I won't tell if you don't want me to," Travis assured them. "Although I don't think anyone'll mind. If anything, they'll probably be jealous." After all, both Malcolm and Trip were hot items in the shipboard gossip circles. He knew Hoshi, for one, wouldn't be too pleased to learn they were both off the market. Travis was more jealous of the sex part, personally. Growing up on a ship, there hadn't been a lot of privacy, and there was even less now. Even if there had been someone for Travis to share some privacy with. "I'll give you two your space." Tucking his book under his arm, Travis headed for the Jeffries tube when Trip said: "Hold up just a second there, Travis." Travis turned back. Trip exchanged a glance with Malcolm, who shifted nervously and turned even redder. "Trip. . . " There was a warning tone to his voice, which Trip clearly chose to ignore. "What, Malcolm?" Trip shot a slow, sexy smile in Travis's direction, and Travis was suddenly very glad that he was in the zero-g chamber. Otherwise, he would have gone weak at the knees. That was what months of fidelity to your hand could do for you. "Thought Travis might want to join in on the fun, that's all." He turned the smile on Malcolm, and Travis saw it had the same effect on the lieutenant as it had on him. "We were just talkin' about that the other night, weren't we?" "That doesn't mean. . . " "No harm in seein' if the man's interested." Travis was interested. Very interested. But Malcolm was clearly uncomfortable with the idea, and he was Malcolm's friend. Malcolm's horny, frustrated, near-desperate friend, but his friend nonetheless. "I'd better get going, Commander." He continued his voyage towards the Jeffries tube. He'd almost reached his destination when Malcolm said, in a tone Travis hadn't heard him use before: "Wait." He looked over to Malcolm, who was looking at Trip even as he spoke to Travis. "If you want. . . " Trip shrugged at his lover. "It's what you want, darlin'." "Travis?" Malcolm turned his gaze on Mayweather, and Travis felt his knees weaken again. He'd only seen that expression on Malcolm's face once before, and that was on the pornographic picture he had accidentally been given. "Hey, I'm game." Travis tried to sound suave and worldly, as if he engaged in floating threesomes all the time. It was just too bad that his voice cracked. "Good." Trip smiled. "Because we're very into games." Some dormitory fumblings with fellow cadets at Starfleet Academy and the odd quickie onboard the 'Horizon' (always guaranteed to climax with the shaking of the ship, if not the Earth) hadn't prepared Travis for an encounter with Trip Tucker and Malcolm Reed. Even as he experienced it, Travis knew that the memory of coming into Trip's multi-talented mouth while Malcolm took him from behind would sustain him through many long, boring shipboard evenings. Try as he might, and he didn't try particularly hard, Travis couldn't make it last. When he came, Trip swallowed it all. Through his woozy post-coital daze, Travis was relieved to notice Malcolm swimming around to take Trip in his mouth before the commander followed him over the orgasmic edge. Travis knew from embarrassing adolescent experience just what a mess it caused when you let go in zero-g. Swallowing hard, Malcolm pulled himself up on Trip's shoulders, pressing their mouths together. Travis smiled as Trip put his arms around the lieutenant and kissed back as if his life depended on it. Travis liked both men, but neither had struck him as emotionally stable. Malcolm, for one thing, was unbelievably cynical, while Trip, on the other hand, had frequent moments of incredible naivete. If they could balance each other out, Travis thought, then so much the better. As he regained his senses, and they continued to kiss, Travis decided it was time for him to bow out. Malcolm and Trip looked up at him when he said: "I think I hear the captain calling," so he grinned, to let them know there were no hard feelings. Then he took his book and disappeared into the Jeffries tube. When he'd gone, Trip turned to Malcolm. "I hope he doesn't think we. . . " Malcolm shook his head, rubbing Trip's shoulders. "I'll talk to him at supper. But I'm pretty sure he's OK." "Good." Trip looked so relieved, Malcolm had to kiss him. As if he needed an excuse. "I like Travis." "You don't say." "Hey, you don't think we shoulda gone to visit his folks with him, do you?" "I don't know." Malcolm cocked his head. "I have heard he's got a brother. . . " Trip laughed, knocking Malcolm off balance. They floated until they bumped off the opposite wall, and Trip continued: "It's my turn next, anyway." Malcolm put on a pained, long-suffering look. Or tried to, anyway. Malcolm had always been good at looking pained, but it had become much more difficult since Trip showed up. Looking pained while in Trip's arms was next to impossible. "I'm not dressing up as Ingrid Bergman." "You ain't got the legs for it anyway, darlin'." "I won't be James Dean either," Malcolm added. "Well, it's that or Peter O'Toole as Lawrence of Arabia, and I know how you feel about veils." When Malcolm made another face, Trip nudged him, which pushed them back towards the other wall. "Hey, count yourself lucky, darlin'. I used to have fantasies about the Bride of Frankenstein." "Really?" "Sure. It was the engineerin' that did it for me, of course." "Of course." Malcolm considered this. "But I don't think so, love." Trip raised his eyebrows, feigning outrage. "Why not?" Malcolm smiled as he leaned in for yet another kiss. There wasn't much chance of getting hard again, and there was only ten minutes until he had to get ready for his shift anyway, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy what time they had left. "I wouldn't want to steal T'Pol's Halloween costume." --- The End