Title: Sex

Authors: Kylie Lee and Tim Ruben

E-mail: KylieLee1000@hotmail.com, timruben@writem.com

Authors' URLs: http://www.geocities.com/kylielee1000/, http://enterpriseslash.tripod.com/

Date: 08/21/02

Fandom: Star Trek: Enterprise

Pairing: A/T

Type: Slash M/M

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Archer and Tucker do more than dancing.

Feedback: Yes, please!

Archive: EntSTSlash, Archers_Enterprise

Disclaimer: Original material copyright 2002 Kylie Lee and Tim Ruben. Characters are Paramount's. They own it all. No money changed hands.

Spoilers: None. This is a stand-alone fic.

Series: Under the Disco Ball

Next story: Whisky on the Rocks

The low thrum of music was audible even on the lower level. Commander Trip Tucker found himself tapping a leg in time to the music, swaying his shoulders side to side. This was his idea of a good time: hanging out. No, no more highly structured shore leave for him. He'd tried that last time and it hadn't worked out. I was starting to like this planet. It was just as cosmopolitan as Risa, he thought, even if it was more industrial and less bucolic than that self-titled pleasure planet (which, from his experience, was anything but pleasurable). Tonight: dancing, then dinner, in that order. Tomorrow: who knew?

After the trouble the crew had had on Risa, they had decided for security reasons that it would be best to hang out together. Subcommander T'Pol had decided to remain aboard Enterprise with a skeleton crew and lead them on a survey mission that had the scientists salivating but left nobody else with much to do. Ensign Mayweather had suggested this planet to Captain Archer, because Travis had visited this place may times during his teenage years. To Trip's surprise, Travis had managed to talk Malcolm Reed into coming along as well; Malcolm had wanted to stay aboard Enterprise and overhaul the weapons systems.

The dance floor was on the upper level, tables and dining on the lower level. Archer, Reed, Mayweather, and Tucker were holding down a table on the lower level. If they left the table alone for even a second, one of the hovering crowd would descend on it, as they themselves had done to nab the table—they had only gotten it thanks to Travis's aggression and a well-placed elbow—and then they'd have to wait for another half-hour. Ensign Sato was around somewhere; she'd gone off to use the lavatory about ten minutes ago but hadn't come back. Nobody seemed worried; Trip figured she had probably met some alien and was trying to learn his language.

Trip looked at his crewmates. Reed looked rather uncomfortable. Jon quietly sipped his drink, but he was drumming a hand on the table in time with music. Mayweather appeared to be having a blast. He had spent the last several minutes talking with a gorgeous waitress. Trip couldn't sit still; the music was calling him. "Want to dance?" he asked Malcolm, swaying to the music.

"No," Reed said flatly. "I don't really dance."

"That's not true. I seem to recall that you danced at Ensign Cutler's birthday party," Trip said.

"That was only because the medication Dr. Phlox had prescribed the day before had an unexpected side effect."

"Oh, come on Malcolm."

"I said no. Besides, I'm rather hungry."

"All right then. Travis?"

Mayweather turned away from the waitress he was talking to. "No thanks, Commander. I promised Hoshi I'd dance with her."

"Jon?" Tucker turned to the man sitting to his right.

"I'm your last choice?" Jon said, smiling to show he was kidding. "I thought we were friends. How long have we known each other? Don't I rate being asked first?"

"Whine, whine, whine. Come on. I know you like to dance."

"Do you, sir?" asked Reed, surprised.

"I'm not as good as I used to be."

"Don't be modest Jon," Trip began, "you've got a great sense of rhythm." Reed raised an eyebrow. Tucker tried not to laugh. "The Cap'n and I used to go out dancing with friends in San Francisco, before Enterprise was launched. He was the first one on the dance floor and the last one off—that is, if some gorgeous blonde didn't come along and give him a reason to leave, if you get my drift."

Archer turned a dozen shades of red. "That's enough, Trip."

"Okay, I'm sorry. So, do you want to dance or what?" Tucker stood up, smiling at his commanding officer, and held out a hand expectantly.

Jon sighed. He took Trip's hand and let Trip haul him to his feet. "All right, Trip, one dance. Malcolm, Travis, you guys sure you don't want to join us?" Trip squeezed Jon's hand before he released it.

"Thanks, Captain, but I think Malcolm and I will stay here and wait for Hoshi," Mayweather answered. "Besides, maybe we can get something to eat."

"Come on, Jon." With that, Trip and Jon headed off, and as soon as they turned the corner and began mounting the stairs to the upper level, Trip draped his arm around Jon's shoulders. "Now we've got ourselves some time alone," he told his commanding officer.

Archer slid his arm around Tucker's waist in return as he allowed his eyes to move up and down the engineer's body. "Have I told you how damned hot you look?" Jon paused on the landing. They wouldn't be able to hear each other once they got upstairs. Trip steered Archer over to one side so the people behind them could get upstairs, just as the captain grabbed the belt loops of Trip's jeans and pulled him close. "How the hell did you get in those jeans?"

Tucker chuckled. "I had to lie on the floor and suck it in before I could zip 'em up," he confessed. In addition to his skin-tight jeans, he was wearing a long-sleeved silky white button-down shirt that seemed to cling to his muscular chest. "Well, Cap'n, you don't look so bad yourself." Archer was wearing black trousers that looked suspiciously like leather and a tight blue T-shirt; he'd left his light jacket downstairs at the table, draped over a chair. Trip leaned down and briefly kissed his captain, pulling Jon's hips to his. "Come on. Let's you and me get to some dancin'."

As Tucker led Archer onto the crowded dance floor, the music struck them almost physically. It pulsed, impossibly loud, impossibly rhythmic, dancers swaying and jerking in time: couples, groups, a few lone men or women making the rounds of the dance floor. It was insanely crowded. They couldn't move without jostling somebody. Servers who were apparently adept at reading lips circulated, ensuring that alcohol and other intoxicants kept flowing. Trip found he was smiling. He loved to dance, and with this music, atmosphere, and a damn attractive man, he was in for a good time tonight. He took a quick look around and noticed that states of dress and touching were remarkably flexible. Several women appeared to be wearing nothing but body paint, and—were those four men doing what he thought they were doing?

Jon tugged his hand and pulled him closer to the center of the floor, which was made of some kind of frosted red, slightly translucent surface that emitted a faint glow; weird shadows were cast on people's faces because a light source was under their feet, adding to the sense of exotic unreality. Trip surrendered himself in to the music. The dancing was freestyle, and the other dancers were almost as much fun to look at as it was fun to look at Jon. The lights strobed and flashed, so people appeared to flicker, although mostly it was just dark and crowded. It was psychedelic and confusing and wonderful. He was totally anonymous, totally lost in the crowd writhing in time to the music. He couldn't tell if the instrumental music was one incredibly long piece or if song after song was playing, linked only by the beat.

After what seemed an eternity on the dance floor, but what was probably about fifteen minutes, he felt that beat slow slightly. On Earth, that was usually a signal for people to head for the bar. Here, it didn't seem to make an appreciable difference, especially because many of the dancers appeared to be really enjoying their partner's company. Archer, responding to the slowing of the tempo, reached out a hand and pulled Tucker in. Trip, breathing hard, let himself be pulled. Jon's body felt muscular and hot next to his; they were both sweating from exertion. Trip put his arms around Jon and breathed in his scent: a faint spiciness mixed with the salt of perspiration. His arms tightened involuntarily, and Jon turned up his face and smiled at him, his hands coming to rest on Tucker's hips. Trip couldn't resist. He ground his hips against Jon's and felt a stirring in his groin that resolved itself into a pleasurable hard- on. Jon pulled back slightly—he seemed almost shocked at the fact that Trip was teasing him in public—but then he smiled, his eyes meeting Trip's. One of his hands wandered around to Tucker's ass and settled there. Trip smiled and moved his hips faster. Archer increased the pressure on Trip's tight, muscular ass.

Feet moving in time to the music, bodies pressed together, eyes locked, Jon's hand on his ass, Trip leaned up slightly and captured Archer's mouth. Their tongues slowly swirled together in a dance of their own. Jon responded almost desperately, tongue and mouth hard on his, body pushing against Tucker's as they continued swaying to the music.

Trip felt a hard pulse through his groin and realized he had better back off before things went any further. He drew his head back and set his forehead against his captain's. They were both panting. Archer's eyes looked dark in the flickering light, his pupils huge with arousal. Trip took in the sight of his lover, incredibly excited and unable to do anything about it, Jon's muscular body singing with pent-up sexual tension inside clothing that was definitely, definitely too damn tight. Archer's hands slid up Trip's back and settled there demurely, as he turned his head and set Tucker's cheek against his shoulder. Trip felt Jon touch his hair with his lips as Jon drew him close. Their groins brushed together, less insistently now.

Tucker took the opportunity to check out some of the other dancers. Despite the huge number of people on the floor, he and the captain weren't the only ones using the crowded darkness for some intimate touching—not by a long shot. He took in the sight of a woman who had her legs around the hips of her partner, a man, whose hands were supporting her by her ass as she rocked back and forth against him. She was wearing a skirt, so he couldn't see exactly what they were up to, but based on the look on the man's face, he had a pretty good idea. Behind Jon were two men. One was standing, swaying back and forth to the music, while another was down on his knees, his face in the man's crotch. In fact, the more Trip looked around, the more sex he saw. He watched two bare-breasted women play with each other's hard nipples. And there was another group of men near the exit, one of whom was pinned against a glass wall wearing nothing but a very sheer pair of underwear with two other men moving their tongues and hands across his sweaty body.

He felt his cock leap up at the erotic sights all around him. He felt the thrum of the music deep inside as it sped back up. The music, not his heart, was driving his blood now, pulsing it through his body in great surges. He released Jon, and both of them found the beat of the music, losing themselves in it, in the gaze of the other. He loved to watch Jon dance. They had gone out dancing a lot in San Francisco, as Mayweather had told Reed and Mayweather, but it was always just the two of them, and the only blonde Jon would leave early with was him. Trip watched the play of Archer's muscles in the strobing, red-and- blue light as his arms rose and fell until he couldn't bear it any more, and then he put his hands on Jon's hips and pulled him in, kissing him hard. Archer matched his intensity, then putting one hand on Trip's chest, on the bare skin revealed by his shirt, he pushed himself back, met his eyes, and, laughing, shook his head. "No, we can't do this here," he was saying.

"Oh, yes, we can," Trip told him with his body, pulling him in again. Jon was very warm and very hard. Trip intensified the kiss, and when Archer tried to pull back, Tucker, smiling, wouldn't let him. He played Jon with his body and his mouth, escalating the length and intensity of his kisses and strokes, until Jon stopped trying to pull himself away. The music was linking them, bridging any gaps between them, the bass beat pounding hard up through Trip's feet into his stomach. He knew the captain felt it too. The bass beat was simply the articulation of their desire for each other. He brushed a hand against the ridge of Archer's cock, as if by accident, once, twice. The third time, Jon grabbed his hand and pressed it into his groin for a long moment before releasing his hand, calling him on it. When Archer let his hand go, Trip didn't move his hand away. Instead, he slid around behind the captain so that they were in the same position he'd seen some women in earlier: Jon's back pressed against his front. He kept his hand on Archer's crotch and pulled him against his body, exaggerating the side-to-side movements of his hips as he danced, rubbing his throbbing cock against Jon's tight ass while stroking his commanding officer's bulge hard. He kept this up until Jon reached down and covered Trip's hand with his own, both hands pressing into his erection. Archer was hot and ready. He wasn't in a position to push Jon onto his hands and knees and slide into him, so he'd just have to do the next best thing.

He moved so he and Archer were face to face, then placed one leg between Jon's and pulled him up along it until the hard ridge of Archer's erection pushed against his hipbone. He steadied the captain with one hand while the other massaged Jon's ass. Then, in time to the music, he pressed Archer into him, over and over again. One of Jon's hands grabbed one of Trip's belt loops and held on. The other untucked part of Tucker's shirt and slid a hand up underneath, pressing flat against Trip's bare chest. Jon threw his head back and swayed it back and forth in time to the music, in time to Trip's hand, thrusting against Tucker's leg and body, hand pushing hard against his bare skin. Trip could see Jon's mouth open and could feel Jon's moans, but he couldn't hear anything: all sound was drowned out by the music. Tucker was barely aware of the other dancers crushed around them. The world was all about his captain's tight, compact body, pleasuring itself against his.

Then that body was pushing harder into him, desperate, the ridge of Jon's cock demanding. Trip smiled as he increased the pressure of the hand on Jon's ass, changed the angle so instead of pushing into Archer's ass, he pushed under an ass cheek and up, hard and rhythmic, driving Jon's erection against him. Archer threw his head back; his whole body to tremble, and Trip could feel every muscle in the captain's body tense up. The music, impossibly, became even louder; no one could hear Jon's cry as he came. Trip nearly came himself as he looked at his captain, sweat beading his face, his eyes unfocused as his body was overcome by waves on intense pleasure. When pushed hard against him, Trip could feel the muscles in Jon's cock contracting as it violently pumped out a massive load of warm cum.

Trip didn't relent, keeping the tempo of their movements exactly in time with the music. Archer continued to ride his leg as Trip kept Jon pressed against him, when Jon's body grew heavy, he kept moving. All around him, he saw people leaning down for kisses, hands groping, bodies rubbing, heads thrown back, eyes rolling back, men buckling at the knees as they came. Tucker thought maybe the music was making them all catch fire—but there were plenty of people just dancing. He was just focusing on the ones doing what he and Jon were doing—which seemed to be almost everyone on the floor.

Jon's eyes opened, and Trip leaned down and plundered Jon's mouth with his. Watching his captain come like that, wanton and abandoned, in public, had made him breathless and harder than ever. He pulled back and smiled down at Jon. He liked it when Archer surprised him. Jon was gasping for air but had found his feet.

The look of Jon, dazed with the waves of intense pleasure that had enveloped his body, galvanized Trip. He tried to hold back, to let Jon recover his breath, but his heart was pounding, and Archer was too near. He kissed Jon deeply, hands coming around to stroke Archer's jawline, then bury themselves in Jon's hair as he lost himself in the captain's heat. Then he drew his mouth back and gasped, clutching Jon tight, pushing his erection against the older man's body. Jon's body was winding down as Trip's wound up, but connecting them was the beat of the music.

The beat became faster, and the couples around Trip and Jon responded. Several people began to converge on the center of the dance floor, grabbing whomever they could find. It was clear that everyone was losing control of themselves, but no one seemed to care. Women were throwing their tops off, while men were stripping down to their underwear.

Looking at all the sex around them was almost enough to send Trip over the edge. He admitted that the thought of Jon forcing him to the ground and fucking him right here, right now, was incredibly appealing, but if they were caught, they would never live it down. He was just about to suggest that they go ahead and ditch everybody, go back to Jon's hotel room or find themselves a bathroom stall or an alley or someplace even remotely private, when he felt Archer's hands on the button of his fly. There was a slight release of pressure around his waist as Jon unbuttoned his jeans. Jon smiled and slid his hand down and gently, then more firmly, grasped Trip's hard cock through the thick fabric. Tucker was throbbing. Jon pressed his body against Trip's, his hand still between them, stroking Tucker's cock. He turned up his face, and Trip met him halfway. He melted into Jon, focusing on the sensation of the man teasing him.

Then Trip felt Jon's fingers against his bare stomach. They squirmed down into his jeans. He cursed their tightness; Archer couldn't fit his hand in and rub his hand up and down his shaft. Instead, Jon's fingertips lightly brushed the pre-cum-soaked head of the engineer's cock. Trip felt his cock jerk, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body, as he pulled Jon tighter. He rubbed his groin against the hardness of Archer's body as Jon managed to slide his hand in just a little further. His hand, between Trip's stomach and his cock, pushing hard because of the tightness of Tucker's jeans, stroked down about a third of Trip's length. "Oh god, Jon." Tucker said against Jon's mouth. Jon circled his ass in time to the music. Archer's hand against Trip's cock felt exquisite. Archer couldn't really move his hand freely, so he moved his fingers from side to side. His palm was against the head of Trip's swollen cock. Trip's moans were being drowned out, but everyone appeared to be so busy that he was sure no one was looking at them. He felt stretched tight.

Jon leaned up harder into Trip. The hand thrust down Trip's jeans stroked down and up, focusing on the head of his cock. The music throbbed and Tucker gasped. Jon's tongue was inside his mouth, and his hand was down his jeans, teasing his cock. The fact they were in public, with dozen of people around them, aroused Trip even further. Archer's two hands stroked in tandem as his mouth sucked hard on his engineer's tongue, escalating the pressure, the pleasure. The rhythm Jon used was the rhythm of the music. The rhythm wouldn't stop. The rhythm went on and on and on, until Trip's body was lost in total pleasure. His cock pulsed as he groaned low in the back of his throat, a primal sound. He came against Jon's hand, his hips thrusting hard, his ass rotating, the pleasure looping up with the treble of the music. His knees trembled. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. The music drowned out the low moan coming from Trip's open mouth. Archer managed to support Trip, keeping him from falling to the ground.

When he opened his eyes, Jon was smiling up at him, a devilish smile. Trip leaned down and kissed him hard, circling his lover's body around in a tight spiral. Nobody was paying any attention to them; they were just another couple engrossed in each other. He felt Jon's hand move in his trousers. Archer slid his hand over to one side, then around further: Reed was wiping the cum off against Trip's underwear, he realized. Jon withdrew his hand, wet with Tucker's seed. Trip took care of the rest of the mess by bringing the captain's hand up to his lips and gently sucking on his fingers, one by one, finishing with licks and kisses along Jon's palm. Then he bent down and kissed Jon again, sharing the taste of himself with his lover. They clung together, hot and spent, occasionally exchanging kisses, hips moving in time to the music, arms wrapped around each other.

Trip tensed as he felt Jon's hands on his trousers again, then relaxed as Jon buttoned him back up. His shirt was still partially untucked, so he pulled it all the way out. Archer slid a hand under it and stroked his sweaty, bare back with his fingertips. Jon took Trip's free hand in his own and held it against his chest, as if they were slow dancing, pulling Trip's body close, and they swayed to the music. Archer's hand brushed the small of his back tenderly, and Tucker was overcome with his feelings for the man. He brought up Jon's hand and kissed it, then returned it to his chest, Archer leaning into him, Trip's head on his captain's shoulder. Jon's touch, his body, his scent, his voice—they all conspired to drive him insane. Luckily, the feeling was mutual.

He didn't know if his strict upbringing had made him susceptible to Jon or what: back on Earth in Florida, where he had grown up in a two- bedroom house, personal space was scrupulously observed. Tucker wasn't used to being touched casually. The last time he remembered his mother hugging him was when he was six years old. But with Jon, it was all about touch. That was how he had first become aware of Archer's interest in him, back on Earth, while he was finishing up his advanced engineering degree at Starfleet Academy. Jon had been his tutor for his fourth-year Starship Command class: the casual touches on the shoulder, on the arm, were surprising and electric to him. For the first time in his whole life, Trip had felt like someone knew he was there and that he wasn't some sort of leper that no one wanted to touch.

He remembered the night he knew he was in love. Trip and his mother had gotten into a huge argument via com about his refusal to come home for vacation, and he just had to get out of his apartment. The only person he could think of to visit was Jon—all his classmates were away. Archer allowed him to stay the night and held Trip as he sobbed uncontrollably. When he had looked into the older man's eyes, he saw something there he had never seen before: love.

Trip leaned down again and kissed Jon, a long, lingering kiss. When they came up for air, Archer pointed to the steps, clearly asking, "Should we go back down?" Trip nodded and released Jon. Jon retained one of Trip's hands so they wouldn't get separated in the crush.

As Jon turned to start forcing his way through the crowd, Trip behind him, Jon bumped into someone standing there. Trip felt Jon tense up. When Jon didn't move, Trip came around to see what was wrong. Jon was face to face with a woman wearing a low-cut black shirt with a very short red skirt. She had two very attractive men with her, one on each arm. It was Hoshi Sato. Trip froze too. Good god. How long had she been there? Trip didn't mind getting caught dancing with Jon, or cuddling with him, or kissing him, as long as they were off duty, but he didn't want to get caught getting his rocks off in public. Best play it cool. Trip came up beside Archer, tucking a shoulder under Jon's arm and leaning intimately into his side, and smiled at Hoshi. They exchanged hand signals, and then Trip and Hoshi dragged Jon along as all three of them headed to the steps, Hoshi leaving behind the two men.

"Where are Malcolm and Travis?" Sato asked in a loud voice, so she could be heard over the crowds of people and music.

Jon shouted back helpfully. "Aren't they at the table?" They started down the steps.

"I don't know, I haven't been back there since I ran into two new friends outside the bathroom."

"Don't you want to introduce us to your friends?" Trip asked. His voice was too innocent. Archer hid a smile.

"No, that's okay. I think they're really more interested in each other," Hoshi replied, failing to hide her disappointment. "But what about you two? It looked like you were having a lot of, um, fun on the dance floor."

Archer was clearly trying to play it as cool as Trip. "Yeah, the Commander has been known to set a dance floor or two on fire," he said. Trip knew he was deliberately not answering any implied questions. "Do you want to find Malcolm and Travis? Get something to eat?"

"You're the captain," Hoshi responded.

"I'll see you there in a few minutes, then," Archer said. "I've got use the washroom. Excuse me." Ah, no doubt to clean up, Trip thought enviously, wishing he'd thought of it first. At the foot of the stairs, Jon went one way and he and Sato went the other.

Once on the lower level, they didn't have to shout any more. Before Hoshi could say anything, Trip leapt in. "How long were you watching us?"

Hoshi looked surprised, then guarded. "I don't know. A while, I guess. I wasn't really paying that much attention. You—you didn't see me?"

Trip eyed Hoshi, who seemed embarrassed. He wondered if it wasn't just he and Jon who had gotten into the anonymity of the dance floor. A little mutual blackmail might be in order. "Yeah, well, it seemed you got really interested in those men."

Hoshi flushed slightly. "Yes. And no." Her voice sounded final. "Well, you and the Captain looked really engrossed in each other."

"Yep," Tucker said. He smiled. There was a pause.

"How—how long have you two been—" Hoshi trailed off.


"Engrossed, yeah."

"A few years."

"Oh," Hoshi said, eyes blinking in surprise. "I had no idea. Is it a secret or anything?"

"No, not really. Jon and I just like to be discreet."

Hoshi laughed. "You two were a little less than discreet back there on the dance floor."

"How long did you say you were watching?"

"Long enough." She grinned. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Trip looked relieved. "Thanks, Hoshi."

They shook hands solemnly and headed for the table. Just before they were within earshot of the two men sitting there, Hoshi asked, voice low, "By the way, Commander, on a scale of one to ten—how was it?"

Trip smiled. "An eleven." He waggled his eyebrows at her, and Hoshi laughed.

"Where have you guys been?" Travis asked as they sat down. It looked as if he and Reed were half-done with dinner. Mayweather's entrée looked delicious. "Where's the captain?"

"In the can," Trip said. "He'll be back in a second."

Reed looked up from his plate. "Commander, you look rather flushed. Are you all right?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. It's just really warm up on the dance floor."

Hoshi grinned. "Yes, it's very warm up there. You should join me and Travis later."

"I'll think about it," Malcolm replied. "I'm really not a very good dancer."

"Don't worry about it. Most people are too busy to notice you anyway."

"Busy dancing?" Reed asked.

"That, among other things," Hoshi said, turning her attention to the dinner menu in front of her.

Before Reed could inquire further, Archer turned the corner and took a place at the table next to Tucker.

"Ah, Captain. Did you have a good time on the dance floor?" Malcolm asked.

"Oh, yes, it was, um, fun," Archer said, trying not to make eye contact with Tucker. It didn't help that Hoshi stared right at him, looking as though she was about to burst out laughing.

"What's so funny, Hoshi?" Travis demanded, as she finally dissolved into laughter.

Hoshi shook her head and straightened up. "Oh, nothing," she said.

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