Title: Payback

Author: TheGrrrl

Author's email: thegrrrl2002@yahoo.com

Author's URL: http://www.geocities.com/coffeeslash/thegrrrl

Date: 05/06/02

Pairing: Tucker/Reed

Archive: Yes at Entslash, all others please ask.

Rating: NC-17

Series: Repairs

Previous story: Repairs

Next story: Driven to Distraction

Summary: Trip gets Malcolm back for that little ladder incident.

Author's Notes: Thank you, Kim, my trusty beta!!

The lift filled with crewmembers, eventually propelling Malcolm to the back. He wound up pressed against Trip. The heat from the man's body was overwhelming. Everyone in the lift could feel it, he was sure. His jaw tightened as he felt Trip's hand on his ass.

Malcolm could barely recall the movie's plot. All he seemed to remember was Trip's leg pressing against his. Trip leaning close to whisper in his ear. Trip's warm breath tickling his neck, sending shivers down his spine. At first Trip commented about the movie. Then he switched to what he would like to do to Malcolm after the movie. Before long Malcolm had to place the empty popcorn tray on his lap to conceal his arousal.

Now on the crowded lift he clasped his hands in front of himself, certain that everyone in the lift knew what was on his mind. He idly listened to snatches of conversation around him, waiting impatiently for their floor. At last the door opened, and they lingered on the way out, letting the crush of people move on ahead.

"G'night, you two," called out Hoshi with a grin, as she turned down her corridor. Trip responded in kind, and Malcolm could only nod his head.

Now Trip had his hand in the small of his back, pushing him towards his door. He began kissing Malcolm before they reached it, and despite the deserted hallway Malcolm frantically keyed in the entrance code. Finally they were alone, inside his quarters.

"So what do ya think?" asked Trip eagerly, breaking off from the passionate kissing to pull Malcolm's shirt off.

"Anything you want," Malcolm responded, growing breathless at the mere thought of it.



"Oh—Trip -." Malcolm sighed in delight, enjoying the sensation of being totally helpless, completely at his lover's mercy.

"Now, darlin', there's just one last thing." He could hear Trip rustling around in the drawer. A sweet kiss landed on his lips. Then the new sensation of a soft cloth in his mouth as Trip wound the gag around his head.

"Mrrrff?" He pulled lightly at his restraints. Naked, bound to the bed, blindfolded and gagged, he was unable to ask. Unable to do much of anything.

"There, that ok?"

Malcolm nodded, anticipating, although he did not know what. His lover was up to something, that much was certain. He felt another surge of excitement—or was it apprehension?

"Good." Trip ran his fingers lightly down Malcolm's chest, barely touching, yet sending shockwaves through his body. Malcolm writhed, pulling on the restraints, making a small sound in the back of his throat.

Then he heard it. The door. The sound made his blood run cold. Someone—who? Was in the room with them. He jerked on the restraints, feeling trapped, panicked.

"Hey, perfect timing." Trip casually greeted the person.

What the bloody hell was Trip up to? Malcolm growled wordlessly, and yanked harder. He felt vulnerable, exposed. Ridiculous.

"Looks damn good like this, don't he?" said Trip after a moment.Malcolm felt humiliated. And furious. And, he realized, incredibly turned on. As he tried to sort through his wildly swinging emotions, the bed creaked and a cool hand brushed against his stomach. He flinched at the contact. Just who the hell was touching him? Malcolm made a harsh sound and yanked again on his restraints, clenching his fists. He had to know who it was. Who was seeing him so naked, so helpless.

"Something wrong, darlin'?" Trip asked so sweetly that Malcolm could have strangled him, had his hands been free. "Now, I told you I'd get you back for that little ladder incident."

Shit. The ladder.

The hand traveled down to his hips, stroking him, caressing his side. It was incredibly erotic. The caress moved to his inner thigh. Malcolm's breath quickened. Something else—a kiss. Someone was kissing his thigh, moving up to his hip, a tongue flicking over his hipbone. He listened to the stranger breathing. Tried to place the sound but couldn't. The overall sensation was male, though. The rough hand, the breathing. Of that, Malcolm was certain. But who? Malcolm felt like his head was going to explode.

Then the contact ceased and he heard the sound of a zipper, the soft rustle of someone shedding their clothes. From behind him Trip stroked his hair and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Despite his rage, he couldn't help but be impressed by Trip's complicity. This took careful planning. But who could be the co-conspirator? Mayweather? Would the young ensign go for such games?

The bed creaked again with the weight of a person settling in next to him. He lifted his head and breathed deeply but could only catch a slight lingering scent of soap. Damn. He contemplated Trip's engineering team. He wouldn't have asked anyone under his direct command. Or would he? His mind spun, images of every man he even slightly knew flashing through his mind. Tried to picture them agreeing to Trip's twisted proposal.

Once again the hand caressed his chest, sliding towards his stomach. Then reached his groin, cupping his balls. Malcolm held still, in passive protest, until the hand stroked his penis with a light, feathery touch. Unable to stand it any longer, Malcolm twisted against the restrains

and groaned. Trip began to nibble at his throat. The mystery lover shifted his weight, and a tongue began working at his right nipple. In spite of the incredibly pleasurable sensations, Malcolm twisted his neck away from Trip, in a feeble attempt to disrupt his work.

Trip merely chuckled, sounding pleased with himself.

"Tell me you're not enjoyin' yourself, Malcolm," he said, lips brushing Malcolm's ear.

Malcolm lifted his head and growled.

"Oh, that's right, you can't tell me anythin', can you?"

Fucking wise-ass. Especially since he was right. Trip knew him all too well.

The two were now nibbling at his chest, each tiny bite setting his body on fire. Warm hands touching him, caressing him. Was that Trip on his left still? Malcolm lost track of who was who. They shifted their weight too many times. Trip and the mystery man. The Captain? No, that was ridiculous—he was too straight. At least Malcolm desperately hoped so. That would be too embarrassing. Perhaps it wasn't even anyone he knew well.

Now just one mouth. At his groin. Warm hands holding him by the hips. Malcolm was panting through the saliva-soaked gag. Someone, whoever it was, was licking his cock. No, two people were. Oh God. Twisting his wrists, he clutched the bedframe, needing to grab onto something. He pushed his hips against the hands holding him steady, felt the restraints biting into his ankles. He was already on the edge, ready to come.

The sensation abruptly stopped and all Malcolm could hear was his own ragged breathing. Suddenly he was certain that Trip was kissing the unknown man. The thought irked him. Who was his lover kissing?

Hands on his chest again. "Hey, whichever one strikes yer fancy. His mouth, his ass, either one's a heck of an experience."

Malcolm groaned, dismayed by Trip's blunt appraisal. That wasn't anyone's business.

"OK, but when you take that gag out you'd better put something in there fast because I tell ya, he ain't gonna shut up," Trip continued.

Trip was going to pay for this, pay dearly.

A heavy weight settled in on either side of his body, a stranger's legs touching his sides. Finally the gag was removed. Malcolm let loose with a string of curses, only be muffled by soft lips touching his. Firm yet sweet. A tongue sliding along his lips. Malcolm reached forward and kissed back passionately, tongue invading, taking what little control he could. He heard a small sound in response, just a tiny grunt. It was the only sound the man had made thus far and he filed it away for future reference.

The kissing ended and the man straddled Malcolm's chest, breathing hard. Something hot and heavy touched at his lips. Malcolm opened his mouth, unable to resist. The cock was silky smooth to his tongue. Raising his head, he sucked as much as he could into his mouth, his mystery lover very cautiously giving Malcolm access, so as not to choke him. Very cautious, very polite. Interesting, thought Malcolm. The cock left his mouth and in its place were someone's balls. Malcolm sucked each one into his mouth, hair tickling his nose.

At the other end of the bed, Malcolm felt Trip release the restraints on his legs. Too distracted to react, he let Trip pull his legs up and slip a finger into his ass. Then another. He thrust up against the fingers, despite the awkward position. Trip took his time getting him ready, teasing him, stroking his legs.

Malcolm took out his frustration on the cock in his mouth, sucking hard, allowing his teeth to gently scrape it as it began to thrust into his mouth, its owner panting. The weight shifted again, more forward this time, and one hand began to stroke his hair.

At last Trip entered him, causing Malcolm to let loose with a strangled cry. The cock slipped out of his mouth as the man pulled back. "No, it's ok, come back—" whispered Malcolm frantically. He needed it now. Trip immediately began to thrust hard, pounding balls-deep into his ass. The cock was back in his mouth, the hand stroking his cheek, sliding along his lips where the organ made contact. It all felt so damn good. It was glorious. He was being well and truly fucked.

His unknown lover came first, gasping, trembling, splattering Malcolm's face and neck with warm liquid as he pulled up. Then waves of pleasure seized Malcolm's body as he came, moaning, sobbing from the intensity. He was barely conscious of Trip, pumping convulsively, crying out as he climaxed.

Malcolm lay panting, gradually becoming aware of the weight of two men pressing him to the bed. He grunted, having trouble breathing, and in response the weight moved off.

"Damn, Malcolm, you nearly did in our guest." A soft, breathy chuckle from the other side of the bed responded.

Malcolm's mind quickly cleared. "Who—rrrrrfffffmm." The sodden gag was back in his mouth. Damn. He laid his head back, sighing. Not that he cared all that much at this point. He felt too good.

They lay quietly together for a time, someone lazily running a hand along his sweaty stomach. Then another creak of the bed, and a rustling of clothes. His mystery lover was leaving. Trip whispered something softly to the man. The door swished open, causing a cool draft to play across Malcolm's body. He shivered.

"Chilly?" asked his lover, draping himself on top of Malcolm's body, covering him. The gag and the blindfold came off. Malcolm blinked at the sudden brightness. Trip's face was just inches from his.

"I can't believe you would—who—how did you ever—just WHO the BLOODY HELL was that?"

Trip kissed his nose. "Not tellin'."

"Oh, you will tell me," Malcolm challenged.

Trip shook his head. "I swore I wouldn't tell, and I always keep my word."

Malcolm closed his eyes and groaned. "Will you please release my hands?" he asked politely.

Trip rolled up off him and in a moment his hands were free. His arms were stiff and he rubbed them ruefully. Trip sat next to him, shaking his head.

"You should be more careful, you can hurt yourself yanking like you did."

Malcolm glared at him. Trip responded with a soulful kiss, and Malcolm could not resist holding onto him, running his fingers through his hair. His devious lover.

"Trip, just how am I supposed to face the crew tomorrow?" Malcolm mentally cringed at the thought of it. "I've got to know who it was," he pleaded.

"No way am I tellin'."

The more he thought about it the more disturbed he became. "I have to work with these people—eat with them—is it someone I know well? Part of the bridge crew?" Dread filled him at the thought of standing at his station, wondering which of them had seen him naked, writhing, coming…

"You can ask all the questions you want, but you ain't gonna hear it from me." Trip was becoming unbearably smug.

"Shit, Trip, come on! There's someone out there who—who's probably laughing at me."

"Believe me darlin', he's not laughing. He had a very good time."

"Damn it! I can and will figure out who it was." Malcolm sat up and pointed his finger at Trip. "Even if it takes sucking every cock on this ship."

Trip burst out laughing. "You'll be a very popular guy." He controlled himself for a second, then said, "What, you just gonna line them up? I definitely want to see that" and went off again, laughing helplessly.

In spite of his post-coital lethargy, Malcolm lunged at his lover. He misjudged the edge of the bed, and they both tumbled to the floor. Malcolm ended up on top, pinning the man beneath him, his weight on Trip's chest.

"Can't breathe—"

"Then stop laughing so hard," responded Malcolm dryly. But a smile was tugging at his lips as he watched his gleeful lover. Really, the man was simply impossible to deal with.

Then the smile faded from his lips as he contemplated facing the crew the next day.

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