"Ow," Malcolm Reed said weakly. He looked down at his knee as his vision blurred.

"That wasn't so bad, was it, now, Lieutenant?" Doctor Phlox said, smoothing the tissue regenerator over Reed's knee.

Reed opened his mouth.

"Don't say anything," Trip Tucker interjected quickly. He turned to the doctor. "Whatever he says, he doesn't mean it."

"Commander," Reed said, voice deceptively mild, but he put a warning there nonetheless.

"Not a word," Tucker said, shaking his finger at Reed.

"May I go now, please?" Reed asked.

Phlox ran his eyes over the screenful of data over the biobed, then took in Reed's disheveled state and obvious exhaustion. He'd just reset Reed's knee by popping it into place and then running the tissue regenerator over it. He pivoted and looked at Tucker, who had two days' worth of beard growth and a tattered uniform.

"It must have been some away mission," Phlox said.

"You have no idea," Tucker said.

"I'd prefer to keep you overnight for observation, but I know how you feel about Sickbay, Lieutenant." Reed hated Sickbay, and he was a terrible patient. He whined and complained and demanded. But it got him what he wanted: booted out of Sickbay at the first possible opportunity. "Please check in tomorrow, and I'm afraid you're off duty until I clear you."

"I don't think that will be a problem," Reed said. "I rather think that I'll sleep for the next six weeks. Wake me up when we get to Degula Prime, would you, Commander?"

"Sure thing, Malcolm."

Phlox shook a small cylinder of medication, slid it into the hypospray unit, and pressed it against Reed's neck. "For the pain," he said, just as warmness flushed through Reed's body, leaving behind a wonderful ease and lassitude. Reed felt all the stress of the past two days dissipate. His shoulders unclenched, his stomach relaxed, and he found he was smiling.

"Good stuff, that," he said appreciatively.

"Get some sleep, Lieutenant," Phlox ordered.

Tucker nodded at the hypospray. "Don't I get any of that?" he asked.

"Sorry, no, you aren't in pain."

Tucker gestured at himself. "I had to climb in and out around those stupid rocks for two solid days. I'm one big bruise. Come on, Doc."

"No." Phlox packed up the hypospray unit. "Escort the lieutenant to his quarters, please, Commander. And either of you—call me if you need me. I'll be here."

Reed stumbled slightly as he headed for the door, and Tucker quickly put his arm around the shorter man. "C'mon, Malcolm, let's get you home," he said. "Lean on me. That's right." He hit the door control and called over his shoulder, "Thanks, doc."

Reed leaned against the warmth of Tucker's body and smiled up at him. Even though Commander Tucker often drove him crazy, he really did like the man. They'd been in tight situations before together—the shuttlepod incident, for example. This last away mission had been more of the same: a routine geological survey that was supposed to yield some useful chemical compounds that Engineering was keen to put to use—but naturally, an away mission gone horribly awry. First there was the communications failure, thanks to the shielding the rocks provided. Then there was the cave-in. In the confusion, Tucker and Reed got separated from the rest of the team, who had gone up without them. The captain sent down search teams, of course, and finally Travis Mayweather had just sat by the shuttle at night and set off flares every hour until Tucker and Reed had staggered over the incredibly rocky terrain for their ride home.

Tucker had gotten Reed through it. His insane refusal to give up, his relentless chirpiness, his damned optimism, which before had driven Reed wild with irritation, were now somehow endearing and encouraging. Things were in a sad state indeed if Tucker could not cheer someone up. When Reed had gotten tangled up in a minor rockfall, Tucker had dug him out with his bare hands, and when Reed's knee had proved too painful to walk on, Tucker had coaxed, carried, and harried him.

Now, Tucker was warm and solid next to him, and Reed was happy to be alive. "Showers. Civilization," he said, leaning his head against Tucker's chest as they limped to the lift. "I feel—incredibly relieved."

"I feel incredibly sore," Tucker groused. "I can't believe the doc wouldn't give me some of that stuff."

"I suffered more," Reed said smugly.

"Yeah, he just did it to shut you up," Tucker said.

"You could try my strategy," Reed pointed out. "I get drugs. I get to go to my quarters. I get everything I want." He sighed happily. Soon he would get a shower, and then—then he could go to sleep.

"I don't think I could be that awful." Tucker's voice was disapproving. He propped Reed against the wall of the lift and set the controls.

"But it works. Besides, Doctor Phlox's code of ethics won't permit him to withhold treatment just because someone's not polite." Reed found he was sliding down, back against the lift's wall. "I'm sure you could be that awful. You simply must try harder."

Tucker hauled Reed back up to his feet. "Don't do that," he ordered. "You'll hurt your knee again." He put his arm around Reed again.

"Right. Yes. Right. Of course."

Reed snuggled into Tucker's side, then turned and looked at Tucker's profile. Tucker looked disreputable with his beard growth, but then, Reed supposed, so did he. Tucker had dark blonde hair and a snub nose. He wasn't quite handsome, but his manner was so engaging that you could convince yourself he was. Reed's eyes shifted slightly, and he took in Tucker's mouth. He'd spent a lot of time with Tucker over the year and a half they'd been posted to *Enterprise*, but how could he have never noticed what a sensual mouth the man had? And that accent. Reed loved that accent. In fact, everything about the man was—well, interesting. And here Reed had thought that T'Pol was attractive. Now, here, leaning against Tucker, Reed suddenly realized that T'Pol had nothing on Trip Tucker. Nothing at all.

"What're you looking at?" Tucker asked. The lift doors opened and he hauled Reed out.

"You," Reed said.

"Yes, Malcolm, I got that, but why?"

Reed blinked and tried to think fast. "Your beard," he temporized. "I was just wondering what you would look like with a beard."

"I look pretty bad with a beard." Tucker came to rest in front of Reed's quarters. Reed keyed in the access code, and a moment later, the doors shut behind them. "What about you? Have you ever had a beard?"

"Certainly," Reed said. "I have pictures around here somewhere if you'd like to see. Also, once, I dyed my hair blond."

"Now, that I'd like to see." Tucker surveyed the neat room. "Okay, where should I put you?"

"Shower," Reed said.

"You got it."

Tucker helped Reed over to the small lavatory. Reed turned the water on, then began struggling with his uniform. Tucker sighed as he unzipped it and helped pull Reed's arms out. He knelt to unfasten Reed's boots, and Reed stepped out of them and let Tucker tug the uniform all the way off. Reed realized he was actually enjoying the attention, enjoying Tucker's nearness. He felt comforted. He felt cared for. He felt a surge of affection for Tucker and thought that he should probably send Tucker off before he did something he'd regret—like running his fingers through that hair. He couldn't believe he had never before contemplated running his fingers through Tucker's hair. It was a fine, fine idea.

"You good?" Tucker asked, standing up suddenly.

Reed started. His bad leg twinged, and he fell backward into the shower, banging his head against the back of the stall. "Ow!" he cried, sliding onto the floor of the shower just as Tucker said, "Malcolm!" Malcolm looked up and blinked as warm water hit him in the face. Then there was confusion as Tucker stepped into the stall, hand extended, and then slipped. Both said "oof" as Tucker fell on top of Reed. Water continued to rain down on them as Tucker, straddling Reed, pushed himself to his hands and knees. Tucker paused for a long moment, then shook his head from side to side, sending streams of water flying.

"God damn it," he said fervently. "I can't believe this. I cannot believe it. On top of everything else, now I'm soaked." He unzipped his uniform and shrugged his arms out, clearly irritated.

The water promptly saturated his blue undershirt, and Reed stared with undisguised appreciation as it clung to every plane of Tucker's upper body. It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair. He'd only just become aware of Tucker as a man, and now—here they were, half nude, in a shower together. He hadn't had time to process his feelings. And there was that hypospray of Phlox's to consider. Maybe the drug had made him susceptible to incredibly attractive engineers instead of beautiful but aloof Vulcan subcommanders. If so, it was some drug. As Reed gazed up at the man straddling his body, he realized that, testament to the wonders of pharmaceutical science or not, the incredibly attractive engineer would in mere moments become aware of Reed's more than professional interest.

Reed tried to speak, failed, tried again. "Your skin," he said. "You're bruised." He touched a large bruise on Tucker's upper arm. Surely the electric spark he felt when he touched Tucker's wet skin was his imagination.

Tucker looked down at his arm curiously and quickly dismissed the bruise as nothing. "That was from the cave-in, I think," he said. "But it's you I'm worried about. Are you hurt?" He wiped his hair back and looked down at Reed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall on you. Lord knows we've been through enough today."

"Oh, god," Reed moaned, because the man was so gorgeous that he couldn't possibly be responsible for his actions if Tucker stayed where he was.

"You *are* hurt," Tucker said, clearly misinterpreting Reed's comment. "Malcolm, I don't know what my problem is. I keep hurting you. First that rockfall—"

"That wasn't your fault," Reed said quickly, even though it had been.

"It just—it just kills me when you get hurt," Tucker went on. He leaned back down and looked earnestly into Reed's eyes. "And it hurts worse when it was me who did it." Tucker stroked Reed's hair back from his forehead, his fingers cold and wet. "Damn it, Malcolm, if you only knew—" he began, then shook his head. "It just hurts me when you get hurt," he finished.

"Oh," Reed said inadequately, because it was quite possibly the most tender, the most wonderful speech he had ever heard, and because it had been so tender and wonderful, and because he was overwhelmed, he put his hands on Tucker's head and kissed him.

He had known the kiss would be nice, but it was even better than he had imagined. Tucker's mouth was warm and lusciously responsive. Reed shut his eyes and reveled in the sensation. He relaxed against the shower floor, warm water pattering against Tucker's back as Tucker shielded him from the spray, as Tucker kissed him back. Reed gently nibbled Tucker's lower lip, then bit it, and Reed's eyes opened as Tucker moaned. Reed's fingers relaxed and twined into Tucker's dripping hair. Reed's erection was a bar of heat. Their tongues played, and Reed's breath quickened at the sensuousness of it. He was wet, he was half-naked, and he was kissing Tucker.

Tucker pulled away, but his lips trailed along Reed's jaw. He put one hand on Reed's hip, and Reed brought his leg up. Tucker rolled himself into the small stall, bringing Reed's body with him, and the door clicked shut. There was just enough room if they bent their legs.

"Malcolm," Tucker whispered. "Malcolm."

Reed tugged at Tucker's undershirt, and Tucker took it off, then took off Reed's. Getting Tucker out of his sodden shoes and uniform didn't take long. There wasn't any desperation. Their movements were languorous and slow, with the water drenching them, keeping them warm. Tucker's magnificent body was battered: he had small cuts on his forearms and hands, his fingernails were broken, and he was spangled with livid bruises. Reed touched a mark on Tucker's ribcage gently.

"You're hurt," he said inadequately.

"So're you," Tucker said, fingers stroking. "Here. And here." He followed his fingers with his mouth. "Your skin," he said softly. "Lord. Your skin."

When Tucker's mouth played down his body, Reed spread his arms and opened his mouth to the water. "Oh, my. Will you look at that," Tucker said softly as he tugged at Reed's briefs. There was a sodden thud as Tucker tossed them aside. Reed moaned when he felt Tucker's mouth close around his cock. "That's it, darlin'," Tucker said encouragingly when Reed wrapped his hand in Tucker's hair. The sight of Tucker's mouth running up and down his straining erection made him gasp. The firm, even pressure continued unabated, and Reed, unable to stop, began thrusting gently. Tucker put one hand on each of Reed's legs, and Reed brought his knees up.

Tucker sucked along Reed's length, head dipping, tongue pushing hard. He set a rhythm, just a little too slow. The sliding mouth worked up and down, and Reed felt his balls tighten. Tucker didn't vary the pace. Pleasure coiled deep inside Reed, then crested. He let himself go, let himself come in Tucker's mouth, and the mouth didn't stop, but continued its slow, teasing play as Reed's hips rocked. The orgasm wasn't an explosion that obliterated the senses but rather an organic outgrowth of warmth and sensation that quietly shivered him apart.

Tucker made his mouth gentle as Reed softened. When he finally lifted his mouth off Reed, Reed was floating in a haze of fulfillment. He felt totally relaxed, incredibly content. He smiled at Tucker. Tucker slid so he was next to Reed and took Reed in his arms. Although Tucker was aroused and hard, his kisses weren't demanding. They were deep and lingering. Reed paused long enough to pull the soap down onto the floor with them. Then he was in Tucker's arms again. Their mouths played as Reed filled his hand with soap and began stroking. He began with Tucker's side and back, then moved to his chest. He enjoyed the sensation of Tucker's soapy chest hair. He slid his hand lower and soaped Tucker's ass, then brought his hand around and took Tucker's penis in his hand. Tucker inhaled sharply as Reed rubbed up and down.

"No," Tucker said softly when Reed readied himself to move down to pay more serious attention to Tucker's cock. "Kiss me. Please. Kiss me."

Reed's mouth found Tucker's again as he pumped more soap into his hand. He stroked his slick hand along Tucker's length, enjoying its size, heaviness, and hardness. Tucker put a hand on Reed's neck. Reed kissed and stroked in tandem. Tucker hitched himself closer, and his breathing grew heavier. The water pattered down on them, warm and soothing. Reed squeezed harder when Tucker began pumping, Tucker's cock moving swiftly through the ring of Reed's fist. Tucker shut his eyes when he came, but his mouth was still on Reed's, and Reed swallowed Tucker's ecstasy.

Tucker enveloped Reed in his arms when he was done coming, intertwined his legs with Reed's, cuddled him close. Reed could feel Tucker's wild heartbeat. It slowed as they lay together. The shower beeped, then cut off. They made no move to get up. Reed and Tucker stared into each other's eyes, but they didn't speak. It had been a surprise: the intensity of the experience, the sweetness that permeated his soul.

"Let me put you to bed, Malcolm," Tucker said when Reed shivered. He disappeared and returned a moment later, towel in hand. He gently dried Reed, wrapped him up, and led him into the bedroom. "Where are your pajamas?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter," Reed said. "Come here." Tucker was mostly dry, but Reed finished the job. He couldn't stop touching Tucker. The play of muscles under skin, the light fuzz of hair on his chest, his soft penis and balls—Tucker was beautiful. He dropped the towel onto the floor when he was done and pushed Tucker onto the bed. "I think you'd better spend the night," he said, joining him.

"You're hurt," Tucker said, not sounding very sure of himself.

"Nothing hurts," Reed said truthfully. He put his arms around Tucker. "Nothing at all." He felt better than he ever had in his entire life.

***

Rocks. Reed was trapped again under the rocks; they were pushing down on him, suffocating him. He couldn't breathe, his knee throbbed with pain, and the rocks—the rocks were—

The rocks were snoring.

Oh, hell, thought Reed. His mouth felt dry, his tongue was stuck to the top of his mouth, his knee hurt, and he was naked and in bed with an equally naked Tucker. He pushed against Tucker in the tiny bed, trying to work his way free, as he attempted to make sense of the situation. He remembered Phlox and a hypospray. He remembered being in the bathroom, trying to shower. And he remembered Tucker falling on him, followed by Tucker's touch, and his mouth—his terribly inviting mouth.

He had nearly worked himself out from beneath Tucker when Tucker stretched and mumbled. Tucker wrapped his arms around Reed in a rather possessive manner. Reed immediately stopped trying to get away. He rather liked being in bed, nude, with a handsome man who couldn't let him go—especially when the handsome man was Trip Tucker. After a moment, Tucker opened his eyes and blinked at Reed, clearly befuddled.

"Huh," he stated, as if surprised to discover Reed in his arms.

"Commander," Reed greeted him in return.

Letting go of Reed, Tucker rubbed his eyes, propped himself up on an elbow, and asked, "So, uh, how's the knee?"

"It's fine, thank you." Tucker was clearly trying hard to be casual, so Reed behaved likewise.

"Good. That's good."

Reed sighed. "Actually, it's a bit sore," he admitted.

"Oh."

"It's not too bad, though."

There was an awkward pause. Then:

"Malcolm?"

"Yes?"

"Should I just leave?"

"I don't know," said Malcolm. "Do you want to leave?" He wasn't going to admit anything to Tucker. Tucker was going to tell him what he wanted first.

"I don't know," answered Tucker, sounding exasperated now. "You tell me."

"Aaahhh." Malcolm rolled on to his back, gazing at the ceiling. The man was impossible.

A minute passed, then another. Tucker sat up next to him.

"Malcolm, this just isn't meant to be, this thing between us, is it," he said. It wasn't a question.

Malcolm heard the regret in the other man's voice, but he said, "No, I suppose not." He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling terribly weary.

"I mean, we are two completely different people. We don't like the same things, we hardly even eat the same food. We have nothing in common."

Except that you hurt when I hurt, thought Malcolm. "No," he said aloud. "Nothing at all."

"You know we'd just drive each other nuts," Tucker continued.

We already drive each other nuts. "Indeed we would."

He sat up and saw that Tucker was sitting with his head resting on his knees. The blanket had slipped off and he could see bruises now, adorning Tucker's back, Tucker's ribs. Such a shame, he thought, to see bruises marring that lovely skin. He wondered if they hurt. He imagined so; his own did. He examined the bruises more closely, Tucker's broad back just centimeters away from him. Malcolm realized if he just leaned forward just a bit more, he could—yes, indeed, he could brush his lips against the marked skin, ever so gently, not enough to hurt, but enough to comfort. Tucker had said that he hurt when Reed hurt. Well, it worked both ways.

Tucker sighed, and Reed paused, deciding that it might be better if he just used his tongue instead. If he licked Tucker's lovely skin, he might ease the pain somewhat. Reed's fingers stroked along Tucker's broad back as his mouth pressed against the soft skin. Tucker tasted faintly like the soap Reed had rubbed all over Tucker's body last night when they made love, but just underneath was the scent and taste of the man himself. Reed knew what Tucker smelled like—he knew it intimately, but now, now that they had made love, it took on a new dimension. Reed ran his cheek along Tucker's spine, feeling the bumps of vertebrae. His mouth caressed a shoulder blade, and he licked over to Tucker's neck. He paused at each bruise, wetting it, acutely aware of the pain each must possess, trying to draw that pain into his mouth so he could take it away from Tucker and take it into himself, as he'd taken Tucker's orgasm into his mouth last night.

He felt Tucker relax under his mouth and fingers. Tucker sighed, almost too low to hear, "Oh, Malcolm, Malcolm…"

Reed didn't know that Tucker's skin would feel so good on his tongue, that the skin would be so delicate and soft and that he would be able to feel Tucker's body moving and shifting under his tongue, that he would be able to feel the vibration of Tucker's low moan right on his tongue. Reed also didn't know that if he licked Tucker's neck, Tucker would shiver all over, that Tucker would lean back against him and stroke Reed's thigh with his strong, capable hands. Reed was amazed that he never knew these things about the chief engineer. That Reed should have such a huge gap in his knowledge of all things Tucker was simply astonishing. He had thought he had known the man—his scent, his voice, his aura of competence. But he'd been wrong. He absolutely had to remedy this lack. Open-mouthed, he kissed the nape of Tucker's neck. He moved to the tender skin right behind Tucker's ear and delicately swirled his tongue. Tucker's breathing quickened.

He was so focused on the texture and taste of Tucker's skin that when Tucker twisted in his arms and kissed him, he was actually surprised. Reed remembered that mouth, and it was even better than the night before. They sat and kissed, limbs entwining, and Reed touched Tucker's body, touched all of it. This time his head was clear. No hypospray dulled his mind, and this time he was aware of Tucker arching his back when Reed teased his nipples. He was very aware of Tucker moaning into his mouth as Reed gathered up Tucker's soft sacs, cupping them in his hand, feeling their weight, and then the weight of Tucker's cock in his hand, hotter than he remembered, feeling the slick of wetness at the tip.

Tucker, stroking Reed's back, pressed his forehead against Malcolm's shoulder. "Ah, hell," he said softly, then looked directly at Reed. "Fuck me, Malcolm," he said simply. Reed found himself captivated by blue eyes. "I need—it's been so long—"

Reed's cock twitched at Tucker's words. He smiled his answer at Tucker, because Tucker was beautiful, and wanted Reed, wanted Reed to fuck him. And Reed thought that maybe he had wanted Tucker all along, that while he had admired T'Pol, she could never get under his skin the way Tucker did. Now that he had touched, he knew that he had always wanted to touch, that his awareness and knowledge of the man's body were a result of his desire.

"I can't hold back when you touch me," Tucker whispered. "There you were, all wet and hot, and I just couldn't help it. I had to touch your skin." He stroked as he spoke. "I had to kiss you." He nuzzled Reed's chest. "I wasn't thinking. The drugs—you were vulnerable—"

Reed smiled. The comments Tucker had made when they woke up now made sense. "You didn't seduce me," he said. "I seduced you."

"Malcolm. I took advantage of the situation, without knowing how you felt."

"Trip. I think you can work out for yourself how I feel. And I can take care of myself."

Tucker's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure about that," he said. "Someone needs to look out for you. You keep getting hurt."

"And you're a menace. You keep starting rockfalls."

"Only one! Well, two. But it was an accident."

"Trip."

"What?"

Reed leaned back in. "You talk too much," he whispered. "Please shut up." He pushed on Tucker's chest.

Tucker smiled sweetly back at him and slid down on the bed, spreading his legs, never taking his eyes from Reed. He watched as Reed ran his hands up and down Tucker's bent legs. He touched himself and moaned a little as Reed stroked, as if Reed's cock was already inside him, giving him pleasure. Reed could scarcely take his eyes from Tucker long enough to locate the lubricant, a small bottle of scented massage oil.

Then his fingers were inside of Tucker, and Tucker moaned in earnest, fucking Reed's fingers with abandon, wrapping his legs around Reed's waist. Reed bent over Tucker's body and Tucker reached up hungrily to kiss him, as if he would die if he didn't kiss Reed at that moment. Reed thrust his fingers into Tucker's hot body again and again, and Tucker's mouth devoured his frantically.

Reed decided Tucker was ready; his ass was loose and open and inviting. He didn't know how much longer he could wait. He grabbed a pillow. "Up," he ordered breathlessly, and Tucker obediently lifted his ass.

When Tucker was properly situated, Reed pressed his cock against Tucker's opening, thrilled by Tucker's breathless words of encouragement. He pushed, pushed harder, and suddenly the muscle yielded. He was inside Tucker, in that hot, tight channel, sliding in up to his balls.

Tucker was taking it, with a smile on his face. "Yes, Malcolm, yes, that's it, yes—"

"Yes," Reed responded. He fought to catch his breath, to calm himself, to last more than ten seconds before he came. The feel of Tucker on the outside—furred, soft, yielding, tender—was wonderful, but the feel of Tucker on the inside, slick and hot around him, was even better.

Tucker lay panting, his hand absently caressing his cock. He looked at Reed as if he were the most amazing thing in the universe. Reed ran his hands along Trip's legs, and he realized the truth with utter clarity.

"You're mine," he said.

Tucker nodded. "I am." He tightened his legs around Reed, driving Reed's cock in deeper. "I think I always have been."

Reed groaned. "We have nothing in common, we're going to drive one another absolutely crazy, but you're mine, and we're going to make love every bloody chance we get." He punctuated the last with a hard thrust forward, eliciting a gasp from Tucker.

"That's what I love about you, darlin'. You always have a plan in mind. Always prepared—oh god yes—always—mine."

Reed thrust into Tucker, then thrust again, because Tucker was beautiful and Tucker was his, because Tucker had made such sweet love to him in the shower, because Tucker's bruises made Reed hurt, because Tucker wanted to get Reed into his pajamas before he put Reed to bed. Because Tucker loved him. Because Tucker was moaning and writhing beneath him, Tucker was shaking and shouting his name, and Tucker was coming and muscles were rippling all around Reed's cock and Reed just couldn't hold back anymore. He came so hard his body jerked and shuddered, his wordless cry filling the small cabin, and then he was melting, pouring himself on top of Tucker.

And, he realized as he gasped for breath, his knee was killing him.

He didn't mind at all.