"Lower your weapon!"

The demand had been issued a second time, but again, it yielded no result. The slender, dark-haired man in the blue uniform didn't waver. The small phase pistol rested comfortably in his hand, trained at the tall alien currently holding one of Enterprise's crew hostage. Not just anyone. Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker, who happened to be the lover of the man in question.

Malcolm Reed's gray gaze never strayed from the leather-clad alien. His face was a mask, betraying nothing. Sweat rolled down his sharp-angled face, a result of the stifling heat. Damp and heavy, the air was thick enough to cut it with a knife or slice it with a phaser. Breathing was difficult.

"You want to see him die?" the alien growled.

"No more than you want to die," was the calm reply. "I'd advise you let him go."

A bark of laughter. "You are funny, stranger. I have the upper hand!"

"I doubt it."

Malcolm's eyes met the wide blue ones of Tucker. Trip was pale but composed. There was a faint bruise on his cheek, but the skin wasn't broken. Silently reassuring his lover, Reed let his attention come back to the enemy. He was larger than the two humans, at least by one head, and appeared somewhat reptilian in origin. The skin was a leathery, brownish gray, the eyes not completely facing forward, and the skull washairless. There was some kind of crest adorning the bald head. Dressed in dark red and brown, the alien had been unarmed when they had encountered him, but he was far from harmless or defenseless.

Enterprise had come across a drifting ship on their way to a new star system and after checking for life signs, finding two, Archer had deployed an away team. Tucker, Reed, T'Pol. Their Vulcan science officer lay just outside the room they were in at the moment, out cold. Malcolm suspected she would have one heck of a headache. When they had boarded the ship, the three explorers had soon come across several bodies, all dead but with no visible wounds. The two life signs had dwindled to one, which they hadn't been able to pinpoint directly due to interference. Not much later, they had encountered the alien now holding Trip hostage. Since he wasn't of the same race, Malcolm suspected he was the killer or someone who had come to scavenge the remains. That last theory was refuted by the lack of other ships in the area, though. That he was now holding Trip at gun point only enforced the suspicion of the alien being the perpetrator.

The heat seemed to increase. The humidity was getting to Trip. Or it was the tight hold the alien had on his neck, one arm locked around the vulnerable throat, cutting off his air supply.

"If you let me go, I'll let him live," the alien offered.

"Why should I believe you? You attacked us."

"I thought you were with them."

"And who were they? What did they do that warranted their death?"

"They are animals!" the creature spat, pupil-less, light blue eyes narrowing. "They captured me, treated me like scum! Planned to sell me."

"Slave traders?" Malcolm queried, never changing his stance. He would remain like this as long as he had to.

"They sell anything, dead or alive," came the snarl.

"We aren't like them," Reed informed him. "We are explorers. We came across this ship by accident and wanted to see if we could help."

The alien laughed, a rough, painful sound for human ears. "Why should I believe you?"

Malcolm smiled tightly. "Because more of my people can come to this ship, overwhelm you. We aren't warriors, but we will defend ourselves when attacked. You attacked us."

A trickle of sweat rolled down between his shoulder blades. His shirt was already saturated, as were the patches of uniform under his arms. Malcolm ignored the discomfort. The alien shuffled closer to the exit, keeping Trip between himself and Malcolm.

"I will leave this vessel. Not with you, not with anyone. Whoever you are," he snarled. "And I will kill you if I have to."

To emphasize it, the weapon their enemy held was jabbed against Trip's skull, making him wince.

"You think my people will let you leave?"

"With this one as my bargaining chip, yes."

The alien was by now at the exit and pushed the opening mechanism with his elbow. The door remained closed. Apparently the mechanism had jammed or something like it.

Malcolm smiled grimly, fingers tightening around the phaser. "Let him go."

The alien sniffed, its nostrils widening, then snorted, the clawed fingers shifting around Trip's throat. Tucker swallowed, briefly closing his eyes. His fear was evident by now. Malcolm wished their positions were reversed.

"We are trapped here," Reed tried again. "Neither of us can leave."

"Until your people come rescue you?"

"Yes. Most likely."

"And what about me?"

"It's not up to me to decide."

There was a moment of silence, the air thickening more and more. The alien's raspy breathing was the only sound. Suddenly there was a loud bang from somewhere outside and then the ship tilted. Malcolm lost his balance and was flung against the wall. For a second he was breathless, the wind knocked out of him, and pain radiated from the bruised area. The ship tilted again and something collided with the hapless armory officer, who was thrown onto the floor and finally lost his phaser.

Disoriented, the tried to get his bearings. The lights had gone down, only the emergency bulbs casting a weak illumination. His phase pistol had disappeared, lost.

"Trip?" he whispered.

A moan answered him. "Here," came Tucker's weak voice. "Damn, what was that?"

"Sounded like an attack. Something hitting the hull of this ship."

"Great."

"You okay?"

"Bit hot, but otherwise I'm fine."

Malcolm smiled and staggered to his feet, feeling slightly dizzy. "Where's our host?" he asked as he discovered the familiar form of his lover leaning against the opposite wall.

"No clue. When the ship swerved, he let go of me."

Malcolm wiped sweat out of his eyes, but it was no use. The heat was oppressive and his breathing was labored. He was by no soaked in his own sweat. Carefully walking around the mostly dark room, he scanned for his phaser and the alien. The yellowish light reflecting off the dull metal caught his attention. Malcolm made a dash for the phaser, but he never reached it.

The alien launched himself at the smaller human, throwing him to the ground with a battle cry. Malcolm's head bounced hard on the floor and he heard a brief exclamation of pain that had to be his own. Dizzy, he tried to defend himself, but a brutally hard grip around his wrist stopped him, slamming the limb onto the ground. Malcolm cried out again, struggling, one foot kicking hard at the attacker. He managed to dislodge his opponent for a moment, and added a hard left hook into the leathery face, snapping it around. With a snarl, the alien pushed down on the prone man, a knee coming down hard on one hip.

Malcolm hissed, trying to fight off the superior weight. Claws closed around his throat and the sharp thumb talon pressed against the soft skin under his chin. Panting, he tried to focus on the shadow sitting over him.

"Not so strong now, hm?" the alien hissed raspily. "You are growing weaker in this environment. Not me. This is mine. When they lost control of their ship, they also lost control of the environmental controls. My air is poison for them. It killed them immediately. You are more resistant, but in the end you will succumb as well."

Malcolm blinked more sweat out of his eyes, trying to breathe. "So you'll spend your own last hours with two corpses?" he asked, barely able to move his jaw.

A dry laugh. "I will get out of here. My people have found me."

Reed desperately tried to think of something, to get the upper hand again, but his opponent had securely pinned him to the floor. One wrong move and the claw would break his skin.

"Yield," the alien whispered.

Malcolm stared hard into the twilight. He didn't know how well the alien saw in the dark.

"Yield."

The claw pushed and he winced as skin broke, blood trickling down his throat.

"And then what?" he croaked. "You kill me? You kill the two of us?"

A laugh answered him. "For one so small, you are a good fighter. You are strong. I won't kill either you or your friend. Not unless you give me a reason."

"We aren't your enemies," Trip's voice could be heard, faint, labored.

Malcolm could barely distinguish any facial features, but he thought he saw a glint of teeth.

"Very protective race," his opponent hissed. "So much stronger than you look. Do you yield?"

Reed gritted his teeth. He was helpless and he had to make a decision. Die now or yield and maybe die later. But in that time, between now and later, he might have a chance to get them out of here alive.

"Yes," he whispered harshly. "I yield."

For a moment, there was only silence, the harsh breathing the only sound.

"You are a warrior. I will believe you speak with honor."

The crushing grip was released all of a sudden and the heavy weight of the creature disappeared. Malcolm winced as the bruises twinged with every move. With a trembling hand he touched his injured throat and came away with flecks of blood. Looking over to where Trip had propped himself up, he tried to determine his lover's condition.

The ship shook again, but this time it sounded more like something really big had latched into it.

"My people."

Oh great, Malcolm thought faintly, the oppressive heat by now too much for him. Whatever it was that was constricting his airways, whatever poison, it had taken hold. He rolled onto his side, trying to rise, but the weakness was spreading. He slumped back to the ground, vision dimming, sounds fading.

"The poison," the alien's voice reached him.

No. He couldn't give in. Trip's safety depended on him.

Someone touched him, large, strong hands curling around his arms. He fought them instinctively, but he was too weak. The other easily subdued him.

Laughter.

"You would never surrender willingly, would you?"

It was the last he heard before slipping into darkness.

*

He woke slowly. It was like clawing his way out of a swamp. But the moment consciousness was back, he snapped to full alertness. Blinking his eyes open, he found himself flat on his back, looking at an unfamiliar ceiling, bathed in an unfamiliar light. Alertness combined with alarm and adrenaline flowed. Tension crept through his body and Malcolm sat up, dizziness sweeping over him. Weak, disoriented, he inhaled sharply. Damn!

Then it registered.

The air. It was no longer sticky and hot. It was still warm but cleaner.

A soft moan drew his attention to the second bed in the room, occupied by Trip. Of T'Pol there was no sign. His blond lover was coming around, rolling onto his side, then the blue eyes cracked open.

"Mal?" he croaked.

Reed gave him a brief smile, eyes darting around the room. They were completely alone. Both men were still in uniform, but Malcolm noticed that the blood from the cut at his throat had been cleaned away.

"Where…?" Trip coughed.

"I don't know."

He came over to the prone man who was struggling to sit up. The bruises around the neck were visible, but not as bad as Malcolm had feared. He rested his hand briefly against the muscular neck and Trip smiled.

There was a sound from outside and then the door opened with a hiss. Malcolm wasn't all that much surprised to discover that there was an airlock behind the door. His lack of surprise didn't change when he recognized the alien now stepping inside. It was the one who had held Trip hostage. He had changed clothes and was wearing a breathing apparatus.

"You are awake."

Malcolm moved to stand between the still slightly disoriented engineer and the newcomer. He wasn't in any condition to fight, but he wouldn't just roll onto his back and give up.

"My name is Yilyn. My people are called Qra. I have been told that you are Malcolm Reed and your mate's name is Charles Tucker."

"Are we prisoners?"

The alien chuckled dryly. "No. You and your mate are free to go the moment your people have arrived here. You need what your captain called an 'EV suit'. The air on our ship is quite poisonous for you."

The words registered, but one echoed through Malcolm's mind. Mate? Yilyn had called Trip that twice. How did he figure they were lovers—partners?

"Where is the third of our party?" he demanded.

"The female? She is in a separate cell." The alien shrugged. "We did not know if is was custom for your race to have both genders locked together in the same room. She is well and has talked to your captain already."

Malcolm had no idea if it was the truth, but he was willing to give their former opponent the benefit of a doubt.

"Why did you bring us here?"

The Chx'ka vessel was brought aboard our ship," the Yilyn explained. "Did you think we would leave you there to die?"

Malcolm gave him a wry look. "From our encounter, yes."

Yilyn laughed. "A very honest answer. You are free to go. We do not keep innocents. I understand now that you and your mate did not belong to the others."

Again. He had called Trip his mate.

"Took ya long enough," Tucker murmured and pushed himself into a standing position, swaying slightly. Unconsciously, Malcolm reached out and steadied him. The alien looked curiously at them.

"Why do you call him my mate?" Malcolm asked levelly, not beating around the bush.

A chuckle. "It is in your smell. The two of you carry each other's smell very intimately. I conclude that, therefor, you are mated."

Trip flushed. "What?"

The chuckle grew into soft laughter. "Our medic remarked on it when she checked you. You are what we call bonded mates."

Good lord! Malcolm moaned silently.

There was a chirping noise and Yilyn looked at a small device. "Your captain has arrived. I will bring him here, so you can dress in your protective clothing."

With that he left them alone again.

"He can smell it?" Trip asked, voice drawn between horror and laughter.

Malcolm met the still slightly glazed eyes and shrugged. "Apparently."

"Ah hell…"

***

Trip stood under the shower, the water washing over him, erasing the layer of sweat, the grimy feeling, the smell. He inhaled, feeling a twinge at his throat, but the bruises weren't too bad. Phlox had given him a brief shot after they had come out of DeCon and by tomorrow he would be better. The Qra ship had left and while Tucker was curious what had occurred while he and Malcolm had been unconscious or trapped, he was also tired. A briefing had been set up for tomorrow and he was thankful.

Scrubbing his skin, Trip let the soap wash off, then stepped out under the running water and shut it off. He toweled himself off, dressed in his clean underwear and walked into his quarters.

"Mal!"

Trip felt a smile cross his features as he discovered his lover lounging on his bed, propped up against the head, feet crossed at his ankles. Malcolm had showered, shaved, and dressed in his civvies. Black sweater, black pants. Trip felt his mouth water at the sight. No matter how long they were together by now, Malcolm Reed in black did that to him.

"Hey. Feeling better?"

Trip smiled. "Perfect."

Malcolm rose, eyes traveling over the exposed chest up to the bruised throat. Slender fingers reach out and touched the injured flesh, quickly caught by Trip's own hand. Tucker kissed his lover's knuckles, then tugged at the hand and Malcolm willingly stepped into the embrace. Trip kissed first the forehead, then trailed a pattern down the nose to the beloved lips. Reed answered the gentle kiss, deepening it, drawing the blond's tongue into his mouth. He met it, licking along it, pulling the dark-haired an tightly against him.

It all ended in the bed, but neither man was in shape for more than just cuddling and kissing, enjoying the other's presence—until they fell asleep.

***

Trip woke to a warm hand caressing the skin underneath his shirt, and a pair of lips nibbling at him.

"Got something in mind?" he murmured as the tongue swiped over one ear.

"You, me, this bed…hot, unrestrained sex," Malcolm answered huskily.

The words, the rough voice, the hooded expression in the gray eyes, all conspired to send Trip's blood straight into his groin. He bit his lower lip as he felt himself harden.

"Hot?" he whispered, gazing at his lover as Malcolm worked the black shirt over his head. "Unrestrained?" The cloth was tossed away.

"You and me," the lieutenant confirmed.

Deft fingers removed the hindering clothes, exposing Trip to the hungry, gray gaze.

"Sounds just fine."

The room temperature seemed to rise with each piece of clothing that landed on the floor, and by the time Malcolm was naked, Trip was close to jumping him. But he wanted this to last. He needed this to last. Slow, passionate, drawn out.

"We need to renew that smell of ours," Tucker growled, nipping at his throat.

Malcolm's breath caught in his throat and he moaned. They kissed each other, savoring the other's warmth and presence.

"I concur," Reed gasped, his hardness pressing against Trip's thigh.

Kissing his way down the slender, muscular form, Trip paved a wet, hot trail to the straining arousal, toying with it with his lips, tongue and fingers. He knew just how far to go to keep his lover from hitting the edge, where to suck, nibble and lick to get the maximum reaction, and he was quite aware of how long he could torture Malcolm before the armory officer started begging and pleading. He was planning to let everything run to the max today. Running gentle fingers over the muscular thighs, massaging the warm skin, Trip let his tongue lick along the straining hardness, nibbling at the head, making Malcolm writhe. His lover gasped softly, hands clenching into the sheets, hips starting to buck. He grabbed the hips and gently held him down, continuing his oral exploration.

Malcolm cried out as he swallowed more of him, running his tongue over the skin, then freed his manhood from the wet cavern to kiss and nip at the insides of the thighs.

"Trip!" he exclaimed, whimpering as questing fingers mapped out well-known territory.

Tucker chuckled and rose slightly, kissing the tense stomach, then carefully rolled Malcolm onto his side, continuing his trail to one buttock. A moan of appreciation told him he was giving his lover what he wanted. He crawled back to the sinfully desirable lips and demanded a kiss that soon turned into a war of dominance between two agile tongues. Malcolm succumbed in the end, breathing hard, eyes alight with desire.

"I want you," he whispered.

Trip ran a teasing hand over the well-rounded buttocks. "Your wish is my command," he answered huskily before kissing him again, ending the kiss with a swipe over the lower lip.

The lube was never far from the bed and Trip believed he could find it in his sleep. Hell, he had found it in the dark after one quick fumble before. Keeping Malcolm on his side, he prepared the man thoroughly, scissoring his fingers inside the tight opening, drawing grunts and exclamations of pleasure.

"Lord, Trip, please!" Reed cried as his fingers hit the pleasure nub.

He chuckled and positioned himself, entering slowly. An impatient twist of the hips told him that Malcolm didn't want slow. Well, bad luck. For now, he still planned to draw this out.

When he was finally sheathed, Trip stopped, hearing the quickened breathing from his partner, the soft groan as he tried to move himself. Trip stopped him.

"My game," he growled, strong fingers on the slender hips.

"Tri-ip!"

"That's my name," he murmured against one ear.

Malcolm trembled, again pushing back.

The blond set a slow pace, alternating between deep thrusts and quick jabs that drew a cry of pleasure out of his partner every time. He knew he couldn't last forever either, but the stimulation for Malcolm was a lot stronger than for himself. Trip reached for the straining arousal, wrapping his hand around it, stimulating it in turn.

"Trip…" Malcolm begged. "Lord, please…now."

"Just a little longer…" the engineer growled, backing off as he felt his lover's muscles clench, just before climax.

"You're killing me!"

He ran his hands over the slick skin, feeling muscles bunch, shiver and twitch.

"Just…a bit…" Trip threw his head back and calmed himself, stopping his movements to remain motionless inside the other man, who was whimpering now. Turning his lover onto his back, he quickly re-entered the pliant form before Malcolm's cry of protest had even left his lips. He wanted to see the handsome face in climax, wanted to swallow his cries, wanted to be with him, closer than ever.

And he knew he had reached his limit. The sight of Malcolm was intoxicating, making him feverish with need.

Starting to move again, his thrusts never became rough. They became more intense, as if each one had an individual meaning, a special feeling, and to him, they had. Malcolm pushed back, harder every time, until Trip lost the last strand of control. It didn't take him much more than three thrusts and the tidal wave hit him.

Malcolm arched underneath him, screaming almost soundlessly, a harsh whimper ending it. Trip growled as he came, latching onto the pale skin, but he didn't bite. He buried his face in the welcome heat, felt arms come up loosely around his back. Hands spread over his buttocks, keeping him from removing himself with gentle pressure.

Trip heard his own harsh breathing, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, and Malcolm's breath gusted against his shoulder and neck.

He had no idea how long they stayed like this, but Malcolm suddenly started to shiver slightly and Trip raised his head, looking into the dazed, sated gray eyes.

"Cold?"

A smile curved the thoroughly kissed lips. "With you on top of me? Never."

"We should clean up."

"If you want to move…"

He didn't. He really didn't. But the sticky mess between them wouldn't go away on its own. Reluctantly and after several minutes of contemplating the pros and cons of just staying, he did move. Malcolm gave a soft moan of protest when Tucker removed himself out of him. He walked over to the bathroom, wet a cloth and lovingly cleaned the dark-haired man lying like a limp weight on the bed. Malcolm grabbed his wrist and tugged. As Trip leaned closer, he was kissed gently. He threw the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom and climbed into the bed again, pulling the blanket over their sated forms. Snuggling close to his lover, Trip had never felt better in his life. Never more happy.