"One In Six Thousand"

Author - Surya | Main Story | Rating - NC-17
Trip * Malcolm Fanfic Home

Title: One In Six Thousand

Author: Surya

Pairing: Tucker/Reed

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: AU (S3, Twilight)

Disclaimer: The story is mine, the characters aren’t.

Beta: None, so any suggestions for improvement are most welcome.


Summary: Captain Tucker feels the weight of command.


Author’s Note: Inspired by the weary expression on Captain Tucker’s face when he greeted Captain Archer                     during the S3 episode ‘Twilight’.


Dr Marsh finished her scans and regarded her captain sternly. “Captain, you are mentally and physically exhausted. I must insist you get some rest.”


Trip Tucker shook his head vigorously. “Uh-uh. I don’t have time. I gotta meet with the construction supervisor from the colony in an hour …”


“Which Commander Hess can take care of.”


“And I need to reschedule the patrols to compensate for the Intrepid bein’ out of action …”


“Which Captain Ramirez can handle just as well as you.”


“And …”


“Captain, I’ve checked with Commander Reed, and he tells me there’s nothing on your desk that can’t be delegated or wait until tomorrow.” Her expression softened. “You’ve been running on empty for a while now, Captain. I’m prescribing twelve hours of R and R, including at least six hours of uninterrupted sleep. Your outburst this afternoon proves you need it.”


“D’you know what? I’m really startin’ to miss Phlox.” Tucker snapped at the young woman who had replaced the genial Denobulan when he had returned to his home world.


“I could make it an order …” she cajoled, and Tucker glared at her as he rose from his chair and headed for the ready room door. “And I don’t want to see hide nor hair of you ‘til 0800 tomorrow,” she cautioned him, knowing she had won.


The doctor was probably right, Trip reflected as he made his way to the turbo lift. He’d been under constant pressure since they’d arrived at Ceti Alpha Five. The last six thousand humans in existence: a ragged band of Starfleet ships, cargo haulers and civilian transports. And since T’Pol had chosen to resign her commission and live on the surface with the seriously injured Captain Archer, Trip Tucker was their de facto military commander.


This afternoon matters had come to a head when a member of the civilian council had tried to insist he send out patrols to search for other Human convoys and guide them to safety. He’d simmered quietly as he tried to explain that it was futile, that there was no-one else out there, that his ragamuffin fleet barely had enough resources to stand watch over the colony, let alone go out chasing phantoms. Never mind that by going outside the system they risked drawing attention to themselves. Finally he’d blown his top and all but manhandled them off the ship.


“Going to your quarters?” Malcolm Reed fell into step beside his captain as he emerged from the turbo lift. “Because if you are, you’re on the wrong deck.”


“I was just gonna swing by engineering first, see if Tanner trimmed out that fluctuation …”


“Oh, no you don’t,” Malcolm said, shaking his head as he took Trip firmly by the elbow and steered him back to the lift.


“What is this, a mutiny?” Trip protested, only half-joking.


“No, I’m just making sure you get your R and R.”


“You colluding with the doctor now?”


“Who do you think sent her to your ready room?” Malcolm smirked.


They reached the captain’s quarters and Trip keyed the entry code and stepped inside. He was surprised and a little annoyed when Malcolm followed.


“What d’you want, Malcolm? I don’t need a babysitter.”


“With respect, sir, I don’t want you to end up reviewing sensor data or working on some engineering problem.”


“So, what? You’re gonna sit and watch me fall asleep?”


Malcolm’s smirk was somewhat enigmatic. “I hope I’ll be a little more useful than that. Why don’t you sit down?”


Trip sighed and sat heavily on the edge of the bed.


“Do you want to tell me what happened this afternoon?” Malcolm said as he sat down next to him.


Trip shrugged. “You already know.”


“No, I mean what happened to you?”


Trip slumped forward, elbows on his knees as his head drooped between his shoulders, and Malcolm reached out and rubbed slow circles on the centre of his friend’s back.


“I’m not cut out for this, Malcolm,” he said wearily. “I’m just an engineer. I was never meant to be a captain, let alone commander of the fleet - what’s left of it. And as far as dealing with the civilians … well, my Mom always said I was never gonna be a diplomat.”


“This isn’t what anyone expected, Trip. We’ve all been called upon to do things we’d never imagined before Earth was destroyed. And sometimes people need to have their heads banged together. You do very well.” Malcolm’s fingers had crept up into Trip’s hair as he spoke, and Trip allowed himself to lean into his first officer’s touch.


“Thanks. That means a lot comin’ from you.” He sighed again as Malcolm climbed onto the bed and knelt behind him, beginning to massage his scalp in earnest. “Six thousand, Malcolm. All that’s left of humanity. And all that stands between them and annihilation is a few busted ships flyin’ on a wing and a prayer, and me.”


“Forget about it, Trip. Just for tonight.” Malcolm spoke softly next to Trip’s ear.


“I can’t forget about it. I’m the captain.”


“You’re also a man.” Malcolm’s breath caressed Trip’s neck. “A human being who deserves to be cared for. Cherished.” Malcolm released him and sat back on his heels. “Take off your uniform,” he said gently.


Trip shot a questioning glance over his shoulder, but his hand was already reaching for his zipper of its own accord. When he had stripped down to his briefs he lay on his stomach on the bed and sighed in anticipation as Malcolm warmed a handful of massage oil in his palm before spreading it liberally over Trip’s back. He closed his eyes as he felt Malcolm’s hands on his body, his strong fingers pushing deep into the hard, knotted muscles in his shoulders and upper back, easing the tension out of them and eliciting an occasional soft grunt when he released a particularly tight area. As much as he needed and enjoyed Malcolm’s touch, a small part of his brain was protesting at this intimacy with his first officer and friend, and when Malcolm pushed his thumbs all the way to the bottom of Trip’s spine and slid his hands into the waistband of his briefs as if the pull them off, he finally voiced a protest.


Malcolm crawled up to lie beside him on the bed, and Trip was only mildly surprised to discover he’d shed his own uniform.


“I promise you nothing that happens between us tonight will ever leave this room,” Malcolm assured him. “Just relax and enjoy it.”


After a moment’s thought Trip nodded his assent, reasoning that he trusted this man with his life on a daily basis, and it wasn’t such a big step to trust him in this way as well.


Malcolm paused long enough to drop a feather-light kiss on Trip’s temple before he applied more oil to his back. Warm hands worked down from Trip’s waist to his hips and this time he didn’t resist when Malcolm hooked his fingers into the waistband of his briefs, even lifting himself to make things easier as he peeled them down his legs.


Trip felt completely vulnerable, yet completely safe as Malcolm began an altogether more intimate massage, leaning his weight into him as he straddled his legs and drew his thumbs along the cleft between his buttocks, setting Trip’s nerve endings tingling. Trip felt a surge of arousal as Malcolm continued his ministrations, and only Malcolm’s weight prevented him parting his legs and rising up on his knees, offering himself. He’d never felt so … cherished - the word Malcolm had used earlier came back to him - and as Malcolm finished off the massage with long, light strokes of his fingers along the length of Trip’s back, his eyelids drooped and he wore a relaxed, happy smile.


Malcolm crawled back up to lie beside him, gently nuzzling his ear on the way. “Turn over,” he urged softly, combing his fingers through Trip’s hair.


“I can’t.” Trip was all too aware of his arousal, and how obvious it would become if he complied.


Malcolm smiled as he leaned forward and gently captured Trip’s lips, giving Trip the sweetest kiss he’d ever known. As intimate as they’d already been that evening, Trip was still surprised to find Malcolm’s mouth moving tenderly against his own, but he only hesitated for a moment before he gave himself up to it, rolling onto his back and opening his mouth as Malcolm’s wet, questing tongue flicked across his lips. The kiss was everything he’d longed for over this last, difficult year. Malcolm tasted exactly the way he’d imagined, spicy and musky, and Trip growled deep in his throat as he felt Malcolm’s tongue probe deeper, tasting the inside of his lips and winding around his own in a slow, rhythmic dance. Malcolm’s hands explored his chest, his fingers brushing through the dark blond fur that covered it and playing with the fleshy nubs of his nipples, and then he reached down over Trip’s taut belly, pausing to caress the sensitive skin around his navel before he travelled lower, until finally he closed his hand, still slick with massage oil, around Trip’s hard length.


“Mal …” Trip murmured, still unsure, reaching to stop that wonderful stroking hand.


“Ssh … relax, Trip,” Malcolm soothed him, sipping another kiss from his lips. “Let it happen.”


“I don’t wanna use you, Mal.”


Malcolm smiled. “You’re not. Just relax and let go.” He trailed wet, nibbling kisses along Trip’s jaw and sucked gently on his earlobe as he began to caress his erection once more. “Imagine it’s someone else if you like,” he whispered. “Princess Kaitaama, or Lisa. Anyone you want.”


Trip’s pupils were large with desire as he raised his hand to cup Malcolm’s jaw, drawing his thumb along one impossibly high cheekbone as he gazed into Malcolm’s beautiful blue-grey eyes. “What if I want it to be you?”


“Then you’re in luck.” Malcolm’s smile was radiant as he leaned in for another long, deep kiss, his tongue slipping easily into Trip’s hot, willing mouth, devouring it eagerly, hungrily, as he touched Trip intimately, fondling his soft, velvety sacs, weighing them in his hand and caressing the sensitive skin behind them with his fingertips, delighting as Trip moaned into his mouth.


Trip closed his eyes as Malcolm began to stroke him in a firm, insistent rhythm, a little slower than he would have chosen to pleasure himself, but all the more arousing for that. His fingers laced through Malcolm’s hair as their tongues duelled in each other’s mouths, swallowing each other’s saliva as they gasped whatever air they could without losing contact.


Malcolm was relentless, stroking and squeezing his rigid penis and drawing his thumb over the tip to catch the dribble of slick fluid, using it to make his touch even more pleasurable. Trip grew breathless and blood sang in his ears as he tried to devour Malcolm, moaning incoherently in frustration as felt his belly tighten over and over, but never quite achieved the release he craved. He longed for Malcolm to stroke him harder and faster, to bring him to completion, and he grasped Malcolm’s hand, trying to guide his movements, but Malcolm kept to the same maddeningly slow pace, building pleasure on pleasure as Trip bucked his hips, thrusting into his hand.


Trip gave a harsh cry of protest as Malcolm pulled away from his lips.


“I want to taste you,” Malcolm said huskily, a wicked gleam in his eye as he swooped down and closed his lips around the head of Trip’s penis, and Trip reached up and grasped the headboard as he watched his aching cock disappear into Malcolm’s mouth, his tongue swirling around it and tickling the slit.


“Please, Mal,” he gasped. “Please …” He was on the edge, tantalisingly close, ready to come. He could feel sweat on his back and his brow, and a furnace growing low in his abdomen, spreading slowly up his chest and down his thighs, building to a crescendo as a final wave of heat crested and he cried out Malcolm’s name as he released a fountain of fire into his mouth.


Trip lay back, breathing hard, recovering, and as Malcolm finally released his softening organ and came up to lie at his side Trip pulled him close and found his mouth, licking his own semen from his lips as he captured it in a slow, tender kiss. He drew his hands slowly over smooth, warm skin, touching gently, caressing as he explored Malcolm’s body, hearing his soft grunts and sighs as he discovered how Malcolm liked to be touched. This was everything Trip had dreamed of for so long, but ever since he’d taken command he’d thought this kind of intimacy was beyond his reach. But now, if only for tonight, Malcolm was in his arms and in his bed. He tried not to think about the many lonely nights to come.


He could feel Malcolm’s warm body pressing into him: chest to chest, thigh to thigh and his huge, hard cock making its presence known against his groin as it strained under the bright blue fabric of his briefs. He slid one hand down inside them, touching Malcolm for the first time, burying his fingers in the curling hair that covered his abdomen and feeling the weight of his thick, hard shaft. He pushed Malcolm onto his back and began to shuffle down the bed, kissing and nuzzling his stomach, intending to pull down his briefs and take that beautiful cock in his mouth.


“No, Trip,” Malcolm said, grasping his shoulders and bringing him back up to gaze into his eyes.


“But you’re …” Trip paused, his gesture taking in Malcolm’s obvious arousal. “I was just gonna return the favour, Mal.”


Malcolm’s gaze was steady as he reached up to touch Trip’s face. “Tonight is all about your pleasure, Trip. Not mine.”


For a moment Trip considered telling Malcolm how often he’d imagined sucking on his cock and making him come, how he’d longed to taste him and touch him, and at the thought his own organ began to swell again. Maybe there was a way to give them both pleasure.


“Then fuck me.” The words had escaped before he knew it. “Please, Mal …” The remainder of his breathless whisper was swallowed in a kiss.


It had been a long time since Trip had been with another man. He’d had male lovers at college and during his early years in Starfleet, but they had always been casual encounters. It was different with Malcolm. This was the first time he’d loved another man.


Malcolm was gentle and confident, using plenty of massage oil and preparing Trip carefully until finally Trip couldn’t wait any longer and begged Malcolm to take him. Malcolm came forward and kissed him hungrily as he entered, slowly pushing deeper until Trip felt incredibly, wonderfully full. They moved together, slowly at first, Malcolm giving Trip small, tentative thrusts, nudging against his prostate and sending pulses of pleasure along his spine. Then he grew more forceful, thrusting harder and faster as their passion built, taking both of them higher with each stroke, and Trip felt like he was on fire, sweat soaking from his back into the bedcovers beneath him. He moaned into Malcolm’s mouth, touching every part of him he could reach, wanting to imprint Malcolm on his body and his soul, then when Malcolm closed his hand around his hard length and stroked in counterpoint with his thrusts, Trip felt his orgasm building, his abdomen tightening, his heart pounding, his breathing shallow and rapid, his balls contracting and his penis lengthening until finally he came in an explosion of light and heat, spurting his semen over both of them. He was only dimly aware of Malcolm’s final deep thrusts inside him before he reached his own explosive orgasm and collapsed, spent, against Trip’s chest.


They lay together afterwards, words unnecessary as they kissed and touched and held each other, their legs still entwined. Trip didn’t trust himself to speak for fear of offering a sentiment that would be too much for Malcolm. Would this one night with his love be enough to sustain him for the rest of his life? Would it have been easier to live with the dream, never having known the reality? Would he ever be able to look at Malcolm again without remembering his taste and his touch?


When he woke the next morning Trip was disappointed but not really surprised to find only an empty space in the bed beside him. He sighed, thinking he should have known Malcolm would wake first. He’d fallen asleep cradled in Malcolm’s arms, his head on Malcolm’s chest, lulled by his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his breathing and feeling agile fingers combing through his hair as his hand rested on the soft dark fur on Malcolm’s stomach. He’d looked forward to waking up the same way.


He rolled over into the space Malcolm had occupied. The sheets still held some warmth from his body, and Trip wondered how long ago he had left as he buried his nose in the pillow, breathing the now-familiar scent of Malcolm. He closed his eyes and savoured the bittersweet memory of their lovemaking - for Trip that was what it had been. He’d been fascinated by the complicated Englishman almost since their first meeting. He’d spent nearly two years learning all about him, trying to get close to him, to get Malcolm to trust him, and he’d been rewarded with a few glimpses behind the barriers Malcolm used to protect himself. He’d seen Malcolm strong and capable, sensitive and prickly, hurt and vulnerable, dry and witty, and he loved all of them. But when the Xindi had attacked Earth everything had changed. In the beginning Trip’s anger and grief had eclipsed all other emotions, then in the fight to save Earth and the seemingly endless search for a safe harbour after it was destroyed he told himself he couldn’t afford the luxury of a relationship even as he realised he still loved Malcolm. Then T’Pol was gone and he became commander of the fleet, protector of humanity, and Malcolm seemed more out of reach than ever. Until last night, which he would have dismissed as a particularly intense and erotic dream if he didn’t have the lingering soreness to prove it was real. But now Malcolm was gone, and Trip had never felt so utterly alone.


He was startled out of his melancholy by the sound of the door opening, and his heart leapt as he looked up to see Malcolm stepping through it carrying a tray of food.


“Damn, I hoped I’d be back before you woke up,” Malcolm said, placing the tray on Trip’s desk and coming to sit on the edge of the bed. Trip noticed he was wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. Loose because they were too big. Too big because they were Trip’s. “I thought I’d better intercept the steward,” he explained. “As nice as it was lying here with you, I didn’t want him to walk in on us.”


Trip gazed up at him, feeling a little off balance. “I thought you’d gone.”


Malcolm smiled down at him. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”


“You mean last night … it wasn’t just a one-time thing?”


“Not unless you want it that way, but I got the impression you wanted something more.”


“I do, Mal. Oh god, how I’ve wanted you!”


Malcolm treated him to another megawatt smile as he leaned down to kiss him tenderly.


“Mal?” Trip asked through a mouthful of scrambled eggs some time later.


“Yes?” Malcolm’s hair was still damp from the shower they’d shared. Trip thought he looked delicious.


“Why now?” He grinned. “What made you suddenly decide to seduce your commanding officer?”


Malcolm regarded him thoughtfully. “Because last night you needed someone, and it had become obvious you were never going to come to me.” He took Trip’s hand across the table. “And because there are only six thousand of us left. And in the middle of all this death and destruction, if we can find some measure of comfort and happiness together … then why the hell shouldn’t we?”





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