*** 1

There was a kind of buzzing in my mind. It almost tickled. It was like part of my mind was off doing something else. Every now and then, I'd get a flash of a crew member. But instead of seeing them clearly, it was like I was seeing them through a mirror or one-way glass. I could see them, they couldn't see me. Once I saw Ensign Baker in a cargo bay, and another time, I saw Captain Archer in one of the launch bays. I wanted to get back to my station, but I had learned it didn't do any good to yell. I was pretty sure I didn't exist any more. One time I saw Malcolm Reed in sick bay. I couldn't help it then: I called to him, but no sound came out. I was living in my mind.

I could hear words: "Incursion detected in primary data core. Vacate the section or your vessel will be compromised."

I felt like a huge weight was pressing down on my chest. My head hurt. It was pounding rhythmically—in time to my heartbeat, I realized. I wasn't awake. I knew I wasn't awake.

Now I heard another voice speaking. I thought I recognized this one, but I couldn't place it. The voice said, "Their synaptic pathways have been reconfigured, integrated into the computer core."

I heard the words, and I understood them individually, but I couldn't put the words together into a sentence that made sense. My brain didn't want to work. I tried to open my eyes but failed. There was somewhere I had to be. I had the strong sense that I was very late for something—my shift, maybe, or a big test. I got a flash of Malcolm on the bridge and screamed "Help me!" I knew if I could make Malcolm see me, nothing would stop him from coming to get me.

I was still waiting. I was waiting for him to save me.

The pounding in my ears got faster and louder as I tried to wake up. "Malcolm," I said, only I just thought it. Then I felt incredible pain radiating out from my arms. I had a brief moment of panic (didn't heart attacks signal themselves with pain in an arm?), and then I didn't remember anything at all.

*** 2

The sick bay doors slid shut behind Captain Archer. He'd just rescheduled our breakfast. He and Subcommander T'Pol had saved me. They had broken into a secure part of the space station that was repairing *Enterprise* and discovered me, along with a bunch of other people, aliens mostly, hooked up to the station. We were the computer. It had kidnapped me and made me part of the systems than ran the space station. We couldn't save any of the others; they were too brain-damaged. But the captain and Subcommander T'Pol got to me in time.

Every time I heard the doors open and shut, I turned my eyes that way. I realized I was looking for someone in particular—Malcolm Reed. I had been convinced he would come get me, and instead, it had been the captain and T'Pol. However, apparently Malcolm and Trip Tucker had been instrumental in figuring out how to gain access to the computer core, so Malcolm was indirectly responsible for saving me.

"Go to sleep, Ensign," Doctor Phlox told me, and I shook my head.

"I'd rather not," I told him. "I want to be able to wake up."

"Trust me," the doctor said. "You'll wake up." He leaned over, and I saw the hypospray too late.

"You snuck up on me," I accused as the unit hissed gently.

"Yes, I did," the doctor said. He patted my hand. "Get some rest."

My eyelids were growing heavy. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay awake. I watched Doctor Phlox putter around, and I wondered about his children. He seemed like a dad to me. I wondered whether he missed them. Denobulans didn't seem very sentimental—or maybe it was just Doctor Phlox.

I wanted to stay awake, but whatever the doctor had given me was too strong. I would catch my eyes shutting and jerk them open again. I melted into the biobed, floating for a minute or two. When I opened my eyes, I saw Malcolm. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. He was standing right by the bed, looking at me.

"Hi," I said. The word didn't do any kind of justice to what I was feeling.

"Hello," he said.

I was really happy to see him. "I was waiting for you," I said. "But now I can't stay awake." Now that he was here, suddenly, it was okay to go to sleep. "Doctor Phlox gave me something."

"You look tired. How do you feel?"

I thought about that for a while. Words were too complex. "I'm afraid to go to sleep, in case I get put back in there."

Malcolm just nodded. "I thought Captain Archer would have told you," he said. "Commander Tucker blew it up. You're not going back."

I couldn't remember if I knew that or not. "Oh, no," I said, dismayed.

"Oh, no, what?" Malcolm asked, confused.

I struggled for the words. "Commander Tucker," I said. "You like to blow stuff up. It should have been you."

Malcolm laughed. "I helped," he said. "Who do you think made the bomb?"

"You," I said definitely. I shut my eyes. I was dizzy. I knew that if I didn't give into sleep, I would simply pass out. "You made the bomb, Malcolm."

"That's right. Me." Malcolm reached down and enfolded one of my hands. "I just came by to make sure you were all right. I'll come by at a better time."

I opened my eyes through sheer force of will. Malcolm's face was very close to mine. He had beautiful eyes, and he had laugh lines around his mouth. I knew every plane of his face, every gesture he made. The way he talked was familiar and comfortable. We hadn't known each other all that long—a couple years, maybe. He seemed exactly the same as he always did, but suddenly, I didn't know him at all. He was all I could think about when I was alone in the dark, part of the computer, and then he was all I could think about when I got home. He seemed different and strange now. I thought I understood why. He was my friend, but now, I didn't want to be his friend. My experience had transmuted my feelings for him, or maybe it had just pushed them to the fore.

"Incursion," I whispered.

Malcolm cocked his head, trying to catch it. "I beg your pardon, Travis?"

"Incursion," I repeated. "Your vessel will be compromised." I didn't know whether I said it out loud or not. Everything was the same, and everything had changed.

There was a faint roaring in my ears, and I lost consciousness.

*** 3

Doctor Phlox kept me overnight for observation. When I woke up the next morning, he examined me and said I was mostly fine. We scheduled some follow-up visits, and the captain dropped by and pronounced me fit to sit at the helm for two-hour stints. I returned to my quarters and cleaned up. I had just pulled on a fresh uniform when I realized that my desk looked different. All the data disks had been rearranged. When I checked my messages, I saw that everything had been reordered. I kept my messages in date order, but someone had switched it to order by sender. And there were access tick marks next to logs I knew I hadn't accessed recently. Someone had gone through my stuff.

I sat down in my desk chair and quickly flipped through everything. Nothing was missing. I flipped through again, just to refamiliarize myself with the contents, and sighed in relief. There was nothing incriminating. Then I had to laugh. I led a clean life. I would even go so far as to say I led a boring life. Incriminating? There was nothing incriminating about me on a good day. I wondered who had drawn the unenviable task of sorting through my things. They'd thought I was dead, after all.

I looked at the screenful of data on my console and touched a log entry. My older logs hadn't been accessed. It looked like someone had only gone through the most recent logs, which made sense if the captain was trying to find out what happened. I watched as my face appeared on the screen, moving in and out of the frame as I narrated. I turned the audio down and sat back. The log was from my first week on board *Enterprise*. I remembered that Malcolm had met me and given me a guided tour. I'd met Commander Tucker in Engineering, and he'd been really nice. We'd talked about how fast the ship could go. I remembered surveying the transporter pad with Malcolm; neither of us could believe that living tissue could go through it.

Malcolm. Everything was different now. We spent a lot of time together—seeing movies, hanging out, playing poker in the mess. Somewhere along the line, friendship had transmuted into something else, so that when I was in trouble, he was the one my thoughts turned to. I had thought that Malcolm would save me. The funny thing is, of course, that he would, but it wouldn't be because he returned my feelings. It would be because we were friends and colleagues, and it was his duty. He would sacrifice himself for me for the same reasons. It was just in his nature.

I reached over and hit the control to stop the playback. I watched as my face froze for a second, then faded to black. I could see the image of my own face ghosting in the screen. I couldn't read my expression. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure what I felt—despair? Or just longing?

A few minutes later, I got up and went to lunch.

The mess was not particularly crowded. I filled a tray and surveyed the room. Malcolm was sitting alone at a table, half-done with his meal. He was working, or maybe just reading: a padd was in front of him. On any other day, I would have just gone and sat with him. Today, I hesitated. Then I joined him.

"Travis!" Malcolm greeted me. He sounded honestly pleased. "Do sit down. I wondered if I'd see you today."

"A man's got to eat," I said. "Doctor Phlox booted me out a few hours ago. It felt good to clean up."

"You look much better." Malcolm tossed his padd to the side. I had his undivided attention. "You must have gotten enough sleep. You could barely keep your eyes open last night."

"I'm sorry about that. It was nice of you to visit."

Malcolm gave a little ironic bow. "Thank you," he said. "Now, reassure me. Tell me the reason you fell asleep while I was there was because Doctor Phlox had given you one of his special hyposprays, not because of me."

"Definitely a hypospray," I said. I settled my napkin on my lap and surveyed my lasagna. "You know, while I was—while I was in that ship, I imagined that you would come rescue me. Isn't that strange?"

"Why is that strange?" Malcolm said. "Of course I would come rescue you. It's my job to rescue you."

"Well, that's what I thought."

"Not to mention, you're a friend of mine." Malcolm pointed at me with his fork. "But Captain Archer would have none of it. He had to rescue you himself."

"He did that to you, too," I reminded Malcolm. "With that mine."

"I'll have to have a chat with the captain about that," Malcolm said. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

I laughed. "No, me neither."

Malcolm set his silverware down as I started eating. After a pause, he said, "Travis, I have to tell you something."

The tone of his voice made me look up. Malcolm looked—guilty? Was that guilt?

"What?" I asked.

"I just wanted to let you know that the captain ordered me to go through your things when you—disappeared," Malcolm said. He didn't say, "When we thought you were dead." "I read letters you wrote to your sister and your mother, and I read your personal logs."

I blinked. It had been him. Somehow, I hadn't imagined that Malcolm had been sitting in my chair, going through my things. If it had been anyone, I thought it would have been Hoshi Sato, if only because she knew the computer system and logging system better than anybody. I said, "I noticed that my stuff had been moved around. But don't worry. I don't have any deep, dark secrets."

"I feel I invaded your privacy," Malcolm said. "I'm very sorry."

"Malcolm, you were just doing what the captain asked."

Malcolm smiled cynically. "Yes, doing my duty, as usual," he said.

"I'm glad it was you," I said.

"It's all confidential, of course," he said. "My lips are sealed."

"I trust you."

Malcolm leaned forward. "Actually, I do the same thing," he said. His voice was low and confiding.

I looked inquiring.

"I write my mother, but then I write my sister and complain about my mother."

I laughed. "It's hard being a good son," I said.

"Hard? I'd say it's impossible."

"You may be right."

Malcolm leaned back. "Well, luckily, we hadn't had time to contact them about your—your death." He waved a hand. "Rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated." He switched the subject. "Do you feel well enough to resume your social duties?"

"Social duties?" I asked. "Like what?"

"Going to the film tomorrow night."

For a wild second, I thought he was asking me out on a date. Then reality hit. His demeanor was exactly the same as it always was. There was nothing to read into. "Sure," I said promptly. I didn't even care what the movie was. Sitting next to Malcolm in the semidark, sharing popcorn—it was as good a pretext as any to spend time with him.

Commander Tucker appeared and slid his tray onto the table. "Afternoon," he said.

"Good afternoon," Malcolm and I echoed.

Commander Tucker reached for the salt and pepper shakers. He always seasoned his food before he tasted it. "Glad to have you up and about, Travis," he told me. "The bridge doesn't feel the same without you. You going to the movie tomorrow night?"

I squelched the impulse to lie. I couldn't, not with Malcolm right there. And even if I lied and said I wasn't going, I'd see him there anyway. Every event was a group event. It was one reason my life was so dull. "Yes, Malcolm and I thought we'd see it. What is it, Malcolm?"

"A new release. An action film, I think. I can't remember the title." Malcolm fiddled with his padd. "You're welcome to join us, of course, Commander."

"Thanks, I'll do that, if you don't mind," Commander Tucker said, and I felt absurdly disappointed.

"No, we don't mind at all," Malcolm said. He looked at me from underneath his eyelashes and smiled ruefully, and I grabbed my fork so I wouldn't grab him.

Malcolm and Commander Tucker kept up a conversation while I ate. It struck me while they were talking what a great couple they would make: Commander Tucker tall and blond, Malcolm short and dark. They both had accents. They'd gotten into trouble together plenty of times. They would probably drive each other crazy, then make up in bed.

I finished my lunch quietly while they teased each other. I didn't know what to make of this new emotion in my chest. Malcolm was my friend, but my feelings had changed. I was actually jealous of time he spent with Commander Tucker, jealous that they were having a conversation right in front of me that just highlighted how much they had in common. The two of them were just good friends. But then again, that was true of me and Malcolm too.

I decided it, then and there. I had to tell Malcolm how I felt. Otherwise, I would wander around *Enterprise* like a lovesick kid, taking offense at every crew member—like Commander Tucker—who dared to talk to Malcolm.

*** 4

"Yes!" Malcolm shouted. "Yes! Yes!"

Malcolm rose from his chair and gave a little hop. Commander Tucker, sitting on the other side of Malcolm in the semidark movie theater, put both his hands in the air and whooped as he joined Malcolm in the yelling.

I tugged at Malcolm's uniform. "Sit down," I hissed.

Malcolm sat down and leaned toward me. He put one hand on my knee. "That was a wonderful explosion," he said. He kept his voice low. "Did you see that blast pattern? Perfect. Do you think it was computer generated?"

"Probably," I said. "I don't think they'd blow up the Eiffel Tower just for a movie."

"You're right," Malcolm said, as though he hadn't thought of that. His hand was still on my knee.

"Shhh," someone from behind us said.

"Sorry," Malcolm said over his shoulder, and he lifted his hand and leaned down, scooping up the popcorn bucket at my feet. He shook it and extended it to me. I took a few kernels, and Malcolm handed it over to Commander Tucker. We all settled back for the last few minutes of the film. It was all over but the shouting, which was probably why Malcolm had felt the urge to shout. Blowing up the Eiffel Tower had been the movie's big climactic scene.

I had had trouble focusing on the movie. I'm sure it had a plot; I just couldn't have told anyone what it was. I had spent the previous night thinking about Malcolm, analyzing my feelings, in case I could get out of having to tell him how I felt. Then I convinced myself I should wait a few days and make sure this new emotion took. Then I imagined Malcolm putting his arms around me or kissing me, and I was back to square one.

It was actually pretty simple. I just really, really wanted him. If I didn't say anything, I would still want him, but I would suffer because I didn't know how he felt, or because he thought we were just friends. If I said something and he said no, maybe I would stop wanting him because I knew I couldn't have him. That was a reason to not say anything: then he couldn't say no. Another good reason to say nothing was our friendship. Declaring feelings for someone who didn't return them was a great way to make things awful and uncomfortable. But there was the possibility that he could say yes.

"Travis?"

I looked over. Commander Tucker had his arm along the edge of Malcolm's seat and was leaning over behind him.

"What?" I asked.

"Do you want to stay for the credits?" As he spoke, the house lights came up halfway and the volume abruptly dropped. The credits were rolling.

"I always stay for the credits," Malcolm said. I tried not to notice that Malcolm seemed perfectly comfortable with Commander Tucker's arm around him.

"I know *you* do, Malcolm."

"I wish they wouldn't bring the lights up. The credits are part of the experience."

"Who's the key grip on this one, Malcolm? One of your favorites?" Commander Tucker's face was so close to Malcolm's that it almost brushed it.

I pulled my legs back and let someone by. Malcolm had to turn his legs toward mine. Now he was practically in Commander Tucker's arms. All too easily, I could imagine Commander Tucker drawing Malcolm into his lap and nuzzling his neck. I watched as Commander Tucker put a hand on Malcolm's waist in an incredibly intimate gesture.

"We can stay for the credits if you want, Malcolm," I said.

"Trip, you can always leave," Malcolm said, and I resisted the urge to chime in my agreement.

"No, I'll wait," Commander Tucker said perversely. He leaned back comfortably and draped his other arm over the chair on the other side of him, now empty. He studied the screen thoughtfully, and after a second, I too watched the names scrolling by. As the people in the row ahead of us filed out, blocking the view, I heard Malcolm whisper something to Commander Tucker. I heard Commander Tucker say, "Now, darlin'—", then abruptly shut up and remove his arms from the chairs.

I looked at them out of the corner of my eye. I was trying to pretend I was not aware that they were flirting. "Darlin'?" Said with that Southern drawl? Well, at least his arm wasn't around Malcolm any more. But I felt sick inside. I had almost decided to tell Malcolm how I felt, but now, I knew I couldn't. That gesture, when Commander Tucker touched Malcolm's waist—I was staggered at what it implied. I took a closer look at Malcolm. He didn't look like he was flirting any more. He looked…well, he looked kind of angry. Was it over the public display of affection?

The music finally ended, and the lights came all the way up. We stood up simultaneously. Only a few other people had stayed to the bitter end.

"Who was the key grip, Malcolm?" Commander Tucker asked as we made our way to the door.

"Jesse Pentecost," Malcolm said absently.

"Gaffer?"

"Josephine Aldero."

"Do you memorize all of them?" Commander Tucker stood aside and let me and Malcolm go first. The hallway was crowded and the door mostly blocked; everybody had run into friends. There was a line for the turbolift.

"Just those two, because you always ask," Malcolm said. "Let's take the aft lift. It always has a shorter queue."

"Good idea," Commander Tucker said. "Your place, Travis? You up to it?"

"Sure," I said. We often ended up at my place after a movie.

"Just throw us out if you get too tired," Commander Tucker said. He dodged an exuberant crew member, and we got in line.

We only had to wait a few minutes. We chatted about the movie with some other people waiting for the lift. When our turn finally came, we crowded in with a bunch of other people. The person right next to the controls began setting all the destinations as people filed in. I was stuck against the far wall, Malcolm right in front of me, and Commander Tucker in front of him. As the lift doors closed, the people in the front row stepped back, and suddenly Malcolm was pressed against me. I looked down at the top of his head and resisted the urge to enfold him in my arms.

Malcolm looked up at me. "Sorry," he said, smiling, but instead of stepping away, he leaned in.

I spent the short lift ride in a haze of happiness. Malcolm's lean, slight body was nestled against me. Malcolm had smiled at me. I enjoyed it while I could.

We were the second stop. "Coming out," I called, and I felt Malcolm's body coil and step away.

We joined several other crew members who were exiting. Commander Tucker waited just outside the door for us. He put an arm around Malcolm, and suddenly, I didn't want to know. I didn't understand what was up with Commander Tucker touching Malcolm all the time, but I didn't like it. Before I did something stupid, like confront my superior officers, I stepped around them and started down the corridor.

*** 5

I was halfway down the corridor before I realized that I had lost Commander Tucker and Malcolm somewhere. I said goodnight to the crew members I'd been chatting with, then stopped and turned around. Nothing. The corridor was full of people coming back from the film, but none of them was Malcolm. I felt my heart sink. Even if he and Commander Tucker had the hots for each other, they wouldn't ditch me. Would they? They'd said they'd come by.

I turned and retraced my steps, but right at the bend of the corridor, I heard Malcolm's voice.

"Trip, just *go*," Malcolm hissed. He sounded irritated.

I stopped dead. Commander Tucker made some reply I didn't catch, and a second later, Malcolm came around the corner and practically ran into me.

"Travis, there you are," he said, sounding nervous. "Sorry, I lost you for a moment in the crush." I peered around the corner and saw Commander Tucker heading for the lift. What was going on? "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Where's Commander Tucker?"

"He had to go." Malcolm's voice was final, so I didn't say a word. He didn't want to talk about it. He started walking, and I was forced to join him. The corridors were clearer now as the crowd thinned.

"Sure, we can talk. Here." I keyed my door open and followed Malcolm in. I thought I'd better get it over with. "I want to talk to you, too." I remembered Commander Tucker's arm around Malcolm and how powerless it made me feel, but I also remembered Malcolm's smile in the lift. I knew then that I was going to tell him, although I had no idea how.

The door slid shut behind us, and I was all alone with Malcolm. Everything I wanted to say tumbled around in my head, then hit a brick wall.

"What about?" Malcolm asked. We were just standing in the middle of the room.

"Well, you, actually," I said, hedging. "Why don't you go first."

"You want to talk about me?" Malcolm said, sounding surprised. "No, you first."

"No, really, you."

"Travis."

There was an awkward pause—at least, I felt it was awkward, because I knew what I was going to say. I just couldn't think of how to say it. "Malcolm, when I was kidnapped by that space station—" I began. I fell silent.

Malcolm looked concerned. "I didn't think," he said. "I wasn't thinking. Of course it's too soon."

"Too soon?"

"Too soon for you—for you to be up this late. You should get some sleep. I should go." Malcolm turned toward the door.

I practically lunged at him. "No!" I cried. "I mean, no, please don't go." I quickly released him. I thought maybe I'd grabbed him too hard. "I don't want to sleep," I said. "I wanted to tell you—"

"Travis, are you all right?"

It was so simple—just a few little words and then my agony would be over. I didn't know why I couldn't say the words. I felt like I had when I tried to talk to him in sick bay, unable to articulate what I was thinking.

"Travis?" Malcolm sounded tentative.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." I turned, took a deep breath, and turned back.

"I was so worried," Malcolm said, putting a hand on my arm. His touch seared. I could feel it through my uniform. "You have no idea. I had to sort through your things, and then it just—it just hit me. I couldn't believe you were gone. I'm so glad you came back." He had to tilt his head up to look into my eyes. He looked earnest and serious.

"While I was on the repair station, the computer kept saying, 'Incursion detected in primary data core. Vacate the section or your vessel will be compromised.'" I put my hands on his shoulders.

Malcolm didn't move away. "Incursion. You said that when I visited you in sick bay."

"Don't you see, Malcolm?" I asked. His eyes never left my face. I was encouraged. "The incursion. It's you." I stepped closer. "I know we're friends. I'm sorry. I want more." I leaned down and kissed him gently. He kissed me back. It was a brief, gentle kiss, the kind of kiss you might give a friend. I dropped my hands, releasing him. "That's what I wanted to tell you," I said. "You incurred. I'm sorry. I couldn't not tell you." Even though it might destroy our friendship, I added silently. "What did you want to tell me?"

Malcolm took a step forward. His voice was low. "That when I thought you were dead, it almost killed me. That I was an utter idiot for not having realized sooner, when something could be done about it. That we're friends, but I want more." He put his hand on my chest. "Much more."

I put my hand on his. I felt breathless. "But—Commander Tucker—" I said.

Malcolm shook his head impatiently. "He knows how I feel about you. He was teasing me because I was so nervous about talking to you about it. He was trying to get me to react in front of you." Malcolm stepped closer, his body almost touching mine. "I told him to go tonight because I wanted to talk to you. Alone. That's why I wanted to see the film with you. I wanted to tell you."

"Oh," I said inadequately. It was hard to think clearly.

Malcolm's hand slid out of mine and around my neck. His eyes looked blue. He leaned up, lips slightly parted. "Travis," he said, and there was an edge to his voice that I recognized. It was need.

"Malcolm," I said, and I put my hands on his head and kissed him.

His warm, inviting mouth opened, and I felt his tongue brush mine. I brushed back. Our tongues twined together as we deepened the kiss. I felt the warmth from his mouth spread through me. We pressed our bodies together, and I grew hard. Malcolm's soft lips nibbled, and I closed my eyes as sensation cascaded through me. I wanted him so much that I felt faint. When he drew back, I moaned.

"I should go," Malcolm said quietly.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I should go."

I found his mouth again. "No," I said. "No, Malcolm."

A long few moments passed as he clung to me, desperately kissing me back. "Travis, please. I won't be able to stop."

I set my forehead against his. "Malcolm, I learned one thing from dying. We may not have a tomorrow. You should know that better than anyone. You almost died in that minefield. You can stay a month from tonight, or two weeks from tonight, or two days from tonight, or you can stay tonight. We both know we're going to do this, and soon. Please stay. Please let it be tonight."

"I'm not in control," Malcolm whispered. "It's too fast." I could feel his body quivering.

"No." I pulled him close. I could feel his erection against my hip. "I'm not in control either. It's okay. Say you'll stay. Say you'll stay with me tonight."

Malcolm, clearly divided, looked up at me and traced my jaw with his thumb. I stood quietly and let him stroke my face. I desperately wanted him to stay, but it was his decision. His eyes never left mine. "I want you," he said at last. "Very much. Please."

"Then take me," I said.

I leaned down and kissed him again, and he melted into me. Before, I had held back. Now, knowing I wouldn't have to stop, I kissed him hard and pulled him against me. Whenever our mouths were apart long enough for me to get some air, I said, "Malcolm."

Malcolm more than matched me. He was strong and aggressive. I am a big guy, bigger than Malcolm, but as he leaned against me, I knew that he could overpower me if he wanted to. I didn't often experience that. There was an iron bar of strength inside him. The thought that my "take me" could be literal was tremendously exciting. He could overpower me and do whatever he wanted to my body.

"Mmm," Malcolm said, pulling back for a second, and a second later, my uniform was unzipped.

He pulled it down over my shoulders and slid his hands up under my T-shirt and regulation Starfleet blues. A moment later, his mouth was on my chest. I could feel his tongue and teeth. I struggled out of the arms of my uniform, gasping as Malcolm licked, and drew my shirts up and off. Malcolm's hands slid around my back and down underneath my briefs. He stroked my ass as his mouth continued to play with my body, moving lower and lower. When he got to my stomach, he knelt and used his nose to trace circles around my belly button. He kissed occasionally. His hands came back around, and he drew my briefs and uniform down to my knees, unhooking them from my erection.

"Oh, god, Travis," Malcolm said.

I felt my balls tighten in anticipation. A moment later, his lips closed around the cap of my dick. Malcolm stroked my length with his hands, and I wound my fingers in his hair and threw my head back. I could feel heat in my stomach. Malcolm used his fingers to slide my foreskin all the way back and began sucking on the taut skin. I could feel the blood thrumming just under the surface. When he released his hand and dipped his head further, taking in most of my penis, I moaned. His tongue swirled on the way up. I let him suck me until I was gasping for air and on the verge of coming. Then I tugged his head back by his hair.

"Stop," I said breathlessly.

I was nude except for my briefs and uniform around my ankles, but Malcolm was still fully dressed. The contrast—him kneeling at my feet in his Starfleet uniform, sucking my cock—was incredibly sexy. I had the sudden urge to come all over his uniform, to mess up that perfect neatness, but instead, I drew him to his feet. I kissed him hard as I unzipped him. We stumbled slightly as we both kicked off our shoes. I stepped out of my uniform and briefs. As Malcolm struggled with his uniform, I put my hands under his shirts. I released his mouth and pulled them over his head, and a moment later, he was nude in front of me. I took in the sight: the planes of his upper body and chest, his erect purplish-red cock springing from dense, curly pubic hair, his tousled hair. He was incredible.

"Travis," Malcolm said, and I realized he was looking at me the same way I was looking at him. He put his hand on my chest, just as he had done earlier, and his white skin was a stark contrast against the dark brown of mine.

I pulled him against me and curled one hand around his cock. He did the same to me. As we kissed, I slid my hand along his rod. It felt like velvet wrapped over a metal rod, although after a few minutes, the velvet grew sticky as I spread his precome around. Although I was focused on his body and how it felt under my hands, I was definitely aware of his hand stroking me as we teased each other.

"Here," I said, falling to my knees. I took his cock in my mouth. He tasted musky and dark. I squeezed the base of his cock and licked. His balls tightened when I drew one into my mouth. "Not yet," I said. "Come here."

I released his slick cock, turned him around, drew him down onto his knees, and pulled him against me. I buried my face in the crook of his neck. My cock slid up and down his lower back; I could feel the press of his ass cheeks against my rod, then my balls as I thrust against him. My cock was almost ready to burst. My balls were tight and hard. I wanted to be inside him; I wanted his mouth on me again. I trailed my hands down his body as I stroked myself against him. One hand brushed his balls, and he gasped. A bead of white precome formed at the tip of his red cock. I cupped his balls as my other hand rubbed up and down Malcolm's muscled body.

"Come for me," I whispered. "Put your hand here. Touch yourself. Show me what you like." Malcolm's hand wrapped around his shaft. I kept my hand on his balls as he began masturbating. My cock was still in the cleft of his ass. Malcolm thrust himself back toward my dick. "That's right," I said. "Do you like this?" I found a nipple and tweaked it gently. Malcolm moaned. "Or this?" I pulled him tighter against me and pinched his nipple.

"Oh, god," Malcolm said. I felt his balls tighten. "More." The hand on his penis moved more quickly. He threw his head back. I squeezed his balls and twisted his chest, running my thumbnail against his nipple. He arched against me and came. I could feel his balls pump. His hand continued working his shaft. I held his trembling body close as he shuddered through his climax.

I was right on the edge. I wanted to slide myself into his ass, but lube wasn't handy and I wasn't about to hurt him. "Malcolm," I whispered. "I'm so close. I need to come." My own cock was huge and raging. I released his balls and ran my hands up and down his body in a sweeping movement, thrusting my cock against his back. I pulled back a little too far, and instead of rubbing against his ass, my penis slid between his legs. Malcolm reached a hand underneath and stroked the underside of my cock. The warmth between his legs was incredible. I felt my cock harden further. "Oh, yeah, just like that," I told him. I sucked the side of Malcolm's neck and thrust in and out. Malcolm's touch was firm. The friction was wonderful. I grabbed the base of my cock. My palm touched my balls, Malcolm's hand rubbed against the head of my cock, and the tension inside me broke and a wave of ecstasy washed over me. I thrust against Malcolm as I spurted again and again, my cock sliding through my fist and my hot come pouring into Malcolm's hand.

"Oh, god, Travis," Malcolm groaned, and we both collapsed onto the floor. My heart was racing. Malcolm was shaking. His eyes were a cloudy blue. I couldn't believe how gorgeous he was, how uninhibited he was once he got hot. His cock had gone down to half-mast but still looked full and heavy. His stomach and hands were sticky with come.

I rolled into my back and pulled him into my arms. He laid his head on my shoulder. He fit perfectly. We lay entwined on the floor, panting. Malcolm stroked the side of my face and stared into my eyes. He gave me long, slow kisses as he tenderly stroked my face and neck. I shut my eyes, and he kissed my eyelids. "Travis," he said occasionally, as if in wonder.

"I'm so glad you stayed," I said.

"Me too," Malcolm said.

"We should get to the bed," I said after a while. "The floor isn't very comfortable."

"If you like," Malcolm said. He rolled on top of me and straddled me. He leaned forward and clasped my hands in his, then kissed me thoroughly.

I pressed my arms up, but Malcolm's body weight meant they didn't move. "You can overpower me. I like that."

Malcolm smiled. "I'd love to overpower you," he said silkily.

"You do that. When I least expect it." I imagined Malcolm coming into my room in the dark of night, rolling me over onto my stomach, and fucking me without preliminary. Every move I made would be aborted, and he would thrust into me again and again, until I came, his cock a heavy pressure inside my ass.

"I think something can be arranged." Malcolm kissed me again, then slid off. "Come on."

He held out a hand, and we rose and made our way to the bed. I turned off the lights. I climbed into bed after Malcolm. There was just enough room for both of us if we spooned together. I was the larger of us, so I held Malcolm in my arms.

"You're spending the night," I told him, in case he wasn't clear on that.

"Of course," Malcolm said. He scooted his ass closer to my groin. "I need to stay with you." He sounded sleepy.

"And why is that?"

"In case you get taken again. This way, I'll get taken with you."

"But then you can't rescue me."

"No, we would escape together."

"Good plan."

"I thought so."

I nuzzled the back of his neck. "Incursion," I said sleepily.

I heard the smile in Malcolm's voice. "Yes," he said.