The BLTS Archive - Serving The Senate
Second in the Too Stubborn To Die series
by Hel Bee (hlb15124@yahoo.com)

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Spoilers: Set several months after 'These are the Voyages... '

Beta: Rakina and Charlene

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek – any of it!

AN: Second in the 'Too Stubborn To Die' series

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Molec stretched languorously and propped himself up on his elbow. He
smiled down as Senator Vishma, staring into the drowsy face of one
Romulus's most important men. It had taken months to catch the
senator's eye, to make sure the man requested him in his Excellency's
chambers for a post-sitting fuck. Pushing aside the revulsion he felt
about his actions, Molec told himself that it was this man's position
of power that was important; although not Praetor, Vishma was clearly
aiming for the job. Senator Vishma's position and ambitions meant
power and, therefore, access to more information, and the more
information he could gather the sooner Molec could return to his old
life as a Starfleet commander. None of his lectures at the academy
could have prepared him for this mission, though some of his
extracurricular activities with the captain of the football team had
come in handy.

"Can I get you anything, Senator?" he asked politely. "Some kali-fal,
perhaps."

The senator's eyes flickered shut and he muttered non-sensibly. He was
asleep. Molec breathed a sigh of relief; his sub-dermal implants were
still functioning. Although normal for a male Romulan to sleep after
orgasm, Molec's altered secretions made sure his victim would sleep
deeper and longer than usual, but without any side affects that would
make the Romulan suspicious.

Molec slipped off the bed and moved silently over to the senator's
view screen. There was little point in dressing, he would need to
return to bed afterwards; no concubine of the Romulan Senate would
allow someone as important as Vishma to awake alone. Using one of the
many access codes his Section 31 colleagues had been able to procure,
Molec accessed the mainframe. The Romulans were a secretive race, even
keeping secrets from each other in case of uprising or an attempted
coup. He'd learnt quickly that only the more senior senators had
access to the highly confidential information, and even then the
knowledge was not shared ubiquitously between them.

Knowing time was not on his side, Molec searched for the weapons,
power grid and fleet deployment files. Previously his engineering
skills had allowed him to distinguish between something really
worthwhile and schematics that were flights of fancy or even red
herrings to throw potential spies off the scent, but now he growled in
frustration as nothing new was displayed. Although there were a few
dates of future meetings, and their intriguing agendas, there was
nothing worth the risk of feeding to his contact. Still, tonight had
not been completely wasted, but he would have to make sure he graced
Vishma's bed again.

He padded back over the bed and slid back between the sheets. The
senator mumbled in his sleep and slowly regained consciousness. "Ah,
Molec, you're still here. Excellent. You may help me dress, but first
a shower. Come with me."

---

Back in his small quarters, Molec filled the handbasin with water. The
shower had done nothing to make him feel clean, and he needed to
remove the invisible residue of the senator's touch from his face. The
shower had thankfully washed away his secretions; otherwise he'd have
probably had awkward questions to answer about his soporific effect on
senators. He splashed the water onto his overheated skin, his cheeks
stinging at the coldness of the liquid. His eyes flicked up and he
made the mistake of catching his reflection in the mirror, something
he tried to avoid these days. His once Floridian tanned skin now had a
greenish tinge, his blond spiky hair had turned black and flat; but it
was his eyes that haunted him the most. No longer blue, his eyes were
dark, almost black in colour. Jon had loved his eyes; Malcolm too had
talked at length about how expressive the blue could be, but now, even
to Molec, they looked lifeless. So much of his appearance had changed,
but there was more inside. He could still feel the vocal cord implant
when he swallowed, it was a necessary evil to prevent his accent
coming to the forefront as it did so often when he was excited or
annoyed. And never, no matter how long he lived, would he get used to
the green blood. True, the scientists have been ingenious, combining
cytochromes with his haemoglobin, but he would always be shocked to
see the green fluid ooze from his damaged skin. There was one small
mercy – Doctor Phlox had assured him everything was reversible.

Molec stripped out of the linen tunic and trousers that he was
expected to wear while on duty. He crumpled the tunic into a ball,
wiping his face on the material before throwing it into the corner of
the room. Laundry could wait, he needed to sleep. The Senate intended
to sit again in a few hours and his presence would be required in the
antechamber before and after to provide drinks and any other service
the senators would require. He crawled underneath his soft blanket
which had been a gift from one of the senators after a particularly
energetic session, closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking. He
should have known it was pointless. Images of his past played out on
the back of his eyelids; memories of touches heated his skin. The
words and sincere promises whispered in his ears and caused his chest
to tighten and a sob to escape his lips even though he fought to
contain it. His eyes began to well with tears and he did nothing as
they tracked down his cheeks. He gave in; there was no point in
fighting his memories.


---
Three years earlier...
---

He often lost track of the time when aboard Enterprise, the lack of
weather on a starship making it difficult to remember even what season
it was at times. Repairs, as always, had kept him busy in engineering,
and it had become an easy excuse to avoid certain members of the crew
– in particular the captain and the chief armoury officer. Trip had
told himself it was because he didn't want to intrude, let them have
the time together to explore their fledgling relationship. They
certainly wouldn't want him about when they could be using their free
time to be alone as a couple. However, when he was feeling honest with
himself – not that he allowed it to happen very often – he would admit
there might be the slightest, almost insignificant, hint of jealousy.
Jon had been his friend for years, and Trip figured he would have had
to be dead from the neck down not to realise how attractive Jon was.
Then there was Malcolm – he certainly wouldn't have kicked the moody
Brit out of his bed for farting.

So it had come as something of a surprise to Trip when Jon had sent
him a message about Malcolm's birthday. Was it really September
already? Surely Christmas hadn't been that long ago? The captain had
asked him to dinner in his quarters to celebrate Malcolm's birthday.
The tone of the missive clearly inferred that a refusal, polite or
otherwise, would not be acceptable.

Trip reluctantly accepted and had even changed out of his uniform for
the occasion, a rarity in the last few months with the warp coil being
so temperamental. As he stood outside the captain's door he wiped his
sweaty palms down his jeans, wondering just why he was so
apprehensive. Part of his brain happily supplied him with the answer:
the captain's quarters aren't big enough for more than three people to
be comfortable – you're going to be own your own with them and you're
scared you're going to do something stupid.

Before he could turn tail and run, the door opened and Jon grinned at
him. "Y'know, Trip, if I didn't know you better I'd think you'd been
avoiding us."

Us, thought Trip, Jon must really be serious if he was already
thinking for Malcolm. "That's crazy. You know what it's been like
recently – I've hardly had any spare time."

Jon made a noncommittal noise and stepped to the side to admit him.
"Malcolm's on his way. Drink?"

There was a bottle of bourbon and three glasses on the night stand
next to the bed. Trip swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry.
"Yeah, that'd be great, Capt'n."

Accepting a glass, Trip deliberately sat on the small couch, away from
the bed. Best to leave the bed for the lovers, he thought sourly.
However, Jon surprised him by sitting next to him on the couch,
bringing the bottle with him.

"Trip," began Jon with determination, patting his guest's thigh.
"You've been taking on a good deal of unnecessary double shifts...  so
I'm wondering, why you're avoiding us?"

Trip was acutely aware of where Jon's hand had rested on his thigh and
he knocked back his shot of bourbon in one go, only for Jon to
immediately refill his glass. "I don't know what you mean... "

"Oh come on, Trip. Why so coy?" Jon's hand moved further up his thigh.

Trip yelped and jumped to his feet, knocking the contents of his glass
flying. "Jon! What are you doing? Malcolm will be here at any minute."

Jon was standing too, he moved closer and before Trip could react he
was encircled in his best friend's arms with Jon's enthusiastic tongue
exploring his mouth.

Breathless, Trip pulled away. "Jon...  I...  What about Malcolm?"

Jon pulled Trip close and nuzzled his neck. "We've both noticed how
you've been looking at us...  and we're both intrigued at the
possibilities."

Trip stepped back, pushing Jon away gently. "My mamma always told me
that two's company, three's a crowd."

"Malcolm wants this as much as I do," insisted Jon. "Consider it his
birthday present."

The door to the captain's quarters slid open and Lieutenant Reed
stepped into the room. He looked between Jon and Trip and smiled.
"Have you persuaded him yet?"

"I'm working on it," answered Jon with a chuckle.

Trip's eyes widened as Malcolm stalked towards him. Before he knew
what had hit him, Trip had been knocked backwards, landing heavily on
the bed and straddled by an extremely ardent armoury officer. "Give it
up, Trip. I can feel you're not exactly averse to the idea."

Trip groaned as Malcolm ground his hips against his increasingly
interested erection. He tried to answer, but once open his mouth was
filled by tongue – only then did he realise that Jon had joined them
on the bed. Two pairs of hands divested him of his clothes and his
mind whirled as Malcolm learned down and whispered: "I want to fuck
you as Jon fucks your mouth."

A very small bit of Trip's brain tried to tell him that this probably
wasn't the best idea, but a louder, lust-filled voice overruled it.
None of his fantasies could have prepared him for this, but then again
neither could any of his real life experiences. "I've never... " he
began but trailed off.

He saw Malcolm and Jon exchange a look. Jon's fingers stroked his
cheek. "I thought...  at the academy...  the football player... ?"

"W-w-we didn't go that far," he stammered out in response. Trip stared
wide eyed between the two men who hovered above him as he lay naked on
the bed. "But I'd like to now."

Malcolm smiled and Trip realised that if the armoury officer had any
hot coals that required walking over then he'd readily apply for the
job. "I promise," said Malcolm earnestly, "I will make sure you enjoy
this as much as I intend to."

Jon moved away for a moment returning quickly with a tube that Trip
thought could only be lubricant. Malcolm pulled his t-shirt over his
head and dismounted Trip just long enough to remove his trousers,
underwear, socks and shoes. "You're overdressed, love," he said to
Jon, accepting the tube.

Malcolm and Jon leaned into each other. They shared a deep and languid
kiss and Trip groaned again at the sight, aware of his own insistent
arousal. Malcolm's soft chuckle pre-empted the armoury officer's own
kiss to the engineer's lips. "Don't worry, Trip. We haven't forgotten
you."

It took little encouragement on Jon and Malcolm's part to manoeuvre
him into position: on all fours, kneeling on the bed. Trip keened
softly as Jon kissed him while Malcolm's magic fingers prepared and
tortured him with expert manipulations. He felt Malcolm's hot breath
against his back and the armoury officer leaned against him for
balance so his spare hand was free to pump Trip's cock.

Jon broke the kiss and Malcolm removed his fingers, his hand coming to
rest between Trip's shoulder blades. Trip found himself being gently
pushed in the direction of Jon's groin. "You get the idea, Trip,"
murmured Malcolm, "I want to see your month around Jon's cock. I want
you to suck him, feel him fuck your mouth."

Trip knew this was one order he would have no problems obeying and he
moaned in appreciation of Jon's musky scent and slightly salty taste
as he took Jon's cock into his mouth. The sensation of the captain's
cock filling his mouth was amazing, and he bobbed his head up and
down, sucking and licking Jon for all he was worth. Only when he felt
Malcolm press against his opening did he slow. Jon stroked his back
and Malcolm whispered filthy words of encouragement and he slid deep
inside. "Fuck, yeah. So fucking tight and perfect. I could fuck you
all day."

Soon Trip found his rhythm. Pushing back on Malcolm and sucking Jon,
his body rocking to and fro in a passionate dance that sent his mind
reeling and his senses ablaze with fire. Jon began to buck into his
mouth and Trip knew his lover was close. With a guttural cry Jon
emptied himself into Trip, the engineer swallowing as much as he could
without gagging. Malcolm's thrusts became deeper and Trip knew neither
of them would last much longer. Malcolm's hand still wrapped his cock,
pumping him firmly and his whole body tingled with ecstasy as he came.
Trip was only vaguely aware that Malcolm was coming as he struggled to
catch his breath, his head spinning.

Trip didn't protest as Jon pulled him flush against his body, lying
them down on the bed. He relished the warmth and firmness of his
lover's body, scared to say anything in case the moment was lost. The
bed dipped and Malcolm slid up behind him, snaking his arm around his
middle and resting his chin on Trip's shoulder. "Hey, Jon," said
Malcolm softly.

"Hmmm?"

"I really liked my birthday present," said Malcolm, between kisses to
Trip's neck. "I think we'll keep him."

Jon smirked, craning his neck to kiss Trip's temple. "Good, because I
don't think I have the receipt

---

Molec sighed loudly. There was no way he could sleep with the
emptiness he felt so deeply in his chest. He got out of bed and
selected a clean set of linens. Dressing quickly, he decided it would
be advantageous to arrive at the antechamber early. Maybe it was time
to try and attract the attention of the Praetor.

---

to be continued in 'Praetor'