When he heard his door finally open, Malcolm smiled but remained at his desk, examining the data displayed on his padd. He heard footsteps behind him. "Miss me, darlin?" Trip's voice was soft and sweet in his ear, and then Malcolm felt his lover's lips on his neck.

"Not one bit," answered Malcolm mildly, pushing his padd aside. "Did you and the captain have a pleasant, ummm, evening?"

Speaking became difficult as Trip unerringly located a particularly sensitive area on the side of his neck, one that was directly connected to his groin. His pulse quickened as his lover switched from kissing to nibbling and licking. Trip slowly slid his hands down inside the front of his bathrobe, stroking Malcolm's chest, rubbing his stomach, untying the sash of his robe. Malcolm squirmed in his seat, moaning softly and pressing his face up into Trip's. Wet kisses on his cheek. A tongue lapping at his ear. One hand on his chest, fingers probing his nipples, pinching the hard nubs. The other sliding down between his legs, caressing his thigh, stroking his cock. Although nearly overwhelmed by the onslaught, Malcolm realized his lover's greeting was even more direct and enthusiastic than usual. Then a thought hit him.

"Watching water polo again?" he murmured.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Trip replied. "It's gettin' to be my favorite sport."

Then Malcolm was swept out of the chair, minus one bathrobe, and into his lover's arms. He was delighted to come into contact with an extremely prominent erection.

"Who won?" asked Malcolm. Other than himself, of course. He rubbed his naked body against Trip's, relishing the sensation of the rough cloth on his skin, feeling particularly wanton pressed up against the fully dressed man.

"Don't remember."

Trip's hands were everywhere at once: in his hair, stroking his ass, kneading his shoulders, grabbing at his waist. Then his mouth caught Malcolm's and kissed him hungrily. The man's urgency was contagious. Malcolm slipped a hand down between their bodies and stroked the hard, hot cock through the thick jeans. Trip pressed himself into Malcolm's hand.

"Need you. Bad," Trip whispered. The hunger in his eyes sent a thrill through Malcolm's body.

"And just how do you want me?" asked Malcolm.

Trip's mouth curved up in a sly smile. "Bent over that desk with my cock stuffed up your ass."

The words sent another jolt of desire to Malcolm's already throbbing groin. "That would be quite—lovely."

Trip smiled at his words, taking Malcolm by the shoulders and turning him around. Malcolm felt a gentle kiss on his shoulder, then heard Trip open the bedside table drawer. Malcolm rested his hands on the desk, hard and hot himself, rocking lightly on the balls of his feet. A moment later Trip was behind him again, sliding one, then two well-lubricated fingers into him.

Malcolm groaned and laughed softly, pushing back against the fingers in his ass, trying to force them in deeper. Another finger entered him, stretching him even further. He heard the sound of a zipper, and suddenly the fingers weren't enough. The fingers slipped out and were replaced by Trip's cock, pressing against his sensitive opening. He pushed back against it eagerly, until Trip filled him completely. He could hear sounds of pleasure from his lover, low, wordless noises that excited him.

Trip wrapped one powerful arm around his waist, holding him firmly, the other reaching up to Malcolm's head, fingers buried in Malcolm's hair.

"You're mine, Malcolm," he whispered, lips touching Malcolm's ear. He ground his hips into Malcolm's ass, his cock reaching even deeper into Malcolm's body.

"Oh yes. All yours." He loved the way Trip was able to possess him. He was safe. Secure. Loved. He was free to open up, to let himself go, without fear. Soon the intensity of the pleasure blotted out the rest of the universe, and it was just he and Trip, connected to each other, loving each other. Malcolm leaned into the arm around his waist, clutching it with one hand, his other hand resting on the desk, slipping a little from the sweat. He could feel his lover's hot breath in his ear, the hand in his hair, and he wished he could kiss him.

"Mine," Trip repeated breathlessly.

Malcolm felt Trip's fingers tugging at his hair, turning his head gently to the side, felt Trip's face buried in the crook of his neck.

"Mine," Trip said again, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes." Malcolm mouthed the word silently as Trip grasped him even more tightly, locking his arm around Malcolm's waist. He slid his cock almost entirely out. Malcolm whimpered. Then plunged his full length inside him again. Malcolm grabbed the edge of the desk with both hands now, groaning helplessly. Trip continued pumping him, increasing in speed, tugging Malcolm's hips back toward him as he thrust deep inside. Pleasure spiraled higher and higher until Malcolm thought he'd go absolutely insane; then Trip reached around and found his cock, stroking it firmly. The touch was all he needed. In an instant Malcolm climaxed, moaning in pleasure and relief, frantically grasping the hand holding his cock as thrust forward again and again into their entwined hands. He heard Trip cry out his name, slamming into Malcolm one last time, knocking them both forward against the desk as he came. Malcolm could feel Trip's body trembling with pleasure against his.

Without the support of Trip's arm Malcolm knew he would have collapsed onto the desk. But Trip pulled him back, safe, embracing him with both arms now, and Malcolm leaned back against the broad, damp chest, vaguely realizing Trip had at some point removed his shirt. He fought to catch his breath.

"Was that lovely enough for you?" asked Trip as he nuzzled the side of Malcolm's face, still breathing hard.

Malcolm could only nod, not yet ready to speak. Then he stumbled as Trip moved, pulling him back with him. "Trip—what—" he said in surprise.

"Gotta sit." Trip sat down heavily in the desk chair, taking Malcolm down on top of him. Malcolm sat with him, or rather on him, his lover's still-twitching cock buried deep in his ass. After getting properly situated he was able to lean back comfortably against Trip's chest once again, legs resting on either side of his lover's.

Trip tightened his grip on Malcolm, pulling him close to his chest. "I love you, darlin'." He kissed the side of Malcolm's neck.

Malcolm held onto Trip's arms. "I love you too. Even though you spend evenings leering at buff young college boys in swimsuits."

"Like you don't reap the benefits?" Trip ran his tongue along Malcolm's shoulder, lapping at the sweat. "I think," he said after a while, "Enterprise needs a pool."

"Really? And what would we be doing in that pool?"

"Playin' our own version of water polo."

"What would the rules be?"

"The rules?" Trip asked. "Not sure, but it would involve me peelin' the tight, wet swimsuit off your gorgeous ass."

"Hmmm. Sounds marvelous. A bit different than how it is usually played, I gather." He thought Trip's version sounded much more intriguing. "Who else would get to play on our team?" he asked, mischief in his voice.

Trip bit his neck sharply in reply.

"Ahh. Nice. Do that again," said Malcolm. He could feel, as well as hear, Trip chuckling against his back.

They relaxed against each other in companionable silence. Malcolm could feel Trip softening inside him, the pressure inside him easing. After a time Trip spoke again. "Next time we get some shore leave, let's find us a quiet beach. We could swim naked. Under the starlight. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Malcolm pictured it: warm water lapping at them, limbs entwined. "Quite." Malcolm entwined his fingers through Trip's, his thumb idly brushing against the palm. "I went swimming at night once in Cape Cod. Years ago. The bay was filled with phosphorescent algae—it was the strangest thing. The water would just sparkle all around you. And if you lifted your arm out of it quickly enough your arm would sparkle, too. We were just amazed."

"Sounds mighty romantic."

Malcolm heard the unspoken question. He thought back to that night. The man's name was Josh. Tall, muscular, long blond hair. Geneticist? They had met that night at a bar—he couldn't recall exactly which one. They left the bar, went swimming, naked and tipsy, then fucked on the beach. "Romantic, no. Just sex. No connection."

"And now?"

You mean aside from the obvious?" He wiggled his ass, as he pulled the hand from his waist to his lips and kissed the palm. "Trip, there's no possible comparison."

Trip touched Malcolm's face with his fingertips. "You never talk much about past relationships."

Malcolm shrugged. "Not much to talk about. I never got close to anyone. I suppose I wasn't ready to let anyone in. Just sort of kept everyone at arm's length." He paused. "Until you. You don't let me get away with that. And if I try, you yank on my arm until we have a head-on collision." Malcolm kissed the hand again, then ran his tongue along it.

Trip was chuckling again. "Damn right, darlin'."

Trip brushed Malcolm's lower lip with his thumb. Malcolm responded by sucking gently on his lover's finger, flicking it with his tongue. Trip moved slightly beneath him. Malcolm sucked the thumb back into his mouth, lightly biting down. Trip made a small sound, and Malcolm felt a familiar pressure growing inside of him. He braced his foot against the edge of the desk, and eased back against Trip, pushing back onto his lover's growing hardness.

"Are you okay? Not uncomfortable or sore?" asked Trip.

"No. I'm fine Trip. More than fine. Oh—" he gasped as Trip touched his cock.

"And you would tell me if you were?"

"Umm. Yes." Trip was sliding his fingers, still slick with lube along Malcolm's rapidly stiffening cock.

"Good. 'Cause we're staying connected."

They made love slowly this time, rocking against each other with a lazy rhythm, making it last. Forever.