Title: Trip's Opinion

Author: TheGrrrl

Author's e-mail: thegrrrl2002@yahoo.com

Author's URL: http://www.geocities.com/coffeeslash/thegrrrl/


Archive: EntSTCommunity, Archer's Enterprise, WWOMB, anywhere else, just let me know.

Fandom: Star Trek: Enterprise

Category: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Status: Complete

Pairing: Tucker/Reed

Summary: What's that fuzzy stuff on Malcolm's face?

Warnings: None

Series/Sequel: None

Spoilers: None

Notes: Just a bit of silliness I had posted on the Tuckerreed group. We got to discussing Malcolm's beard in "Twilight". This was *my* take on what Trip would think of it. (Not set during "Twilight", though) Others among us had differing opinions…


"Malcolm?" I blurt out, dumbfounded, staring at his face. I'm gone for four days, four damn days, and he goes and does this. "What the hell?"

"Well, what do you think?" he asks.

Somehow, from the tone of his voice and the way he's standing there, arms folded against his chest, makes me suspect that what I think isn't going to matter a whole lot. I can't help reaching out and touching his chin, even though we are still standing in the shuttle bay with folks bustling all around. Hell, it's not like they don't know about us.

His beard is still kind of short, but it's growing in full, with nice coverage. It feels rough and bristly on my fingers. My hand lingers on his cheek. It's an interesting sensation, one I'm not familiar with. Even though he looks different, he's of course still my Malcolm, but with the beard he seems like someone I don't quite know. It balances his face differently, making his eyes stand out more. Or something like that. I'm finding it disturbingly appealing.

"It's, it's—fine, Malcolm. Just fine." Well, now, that sure sounds unconvincing, and Malcolm raises his brows. "You look, I don't know, kind of sinister," I add.

Now I get a big smile, teeth gleaming in contrast to the dark beard. "I do?" He puffs out his chest a little, real pleased with himself.

"Yeah, you do." I step closer to him. "Like you might do something, oh, like something nasty to me," I tell him softly.

He leans closer, face inches from mine, close enough that I can smell his skin. "I just might, at that," he says. His voice is low and throaty, and I feel it right down to my toes. Then, to my surprise, he kisses me, even though we're out in public. It's just a gentle kiss, his lips touching mine briefly. His beard is prickly against my skin, tickling a little.

"Oh," I say in surprise. "I like that." I didn't think I would, but I did.

Malcolm chuckles, then whispers in my ear, "Good. Because tonight I intend to test it out on the rest your body. Every inch of it."

He's looking so smug that I just can't help asking, "Oh, you think so? Think I'm going to let you?" Even though it sounds like a grand idea to me.

"Let me? Commander, I assure you, you're not going to have any say in the matter." And with that he leaves, and I'm stuck standing there, getting hard and horny, with hours to go before his shift is over.

But I've got one hell of smile on my face.


"Oh, shit, Malcolm." I arch my back, pulling on the restraints. "Would you—just—fuck—you're gonna—." I'm babbling, and I know it.

Meanwhile Malcolm just keeps right on sliding his cheek back and forth against my nipple. Nice and slow.

"Really now?" he asks, and damned if he doesn't sound amused by the whole thing. "Please, tell me more."

I don't know why the hell I let him tie me up like this. Makes me crazy every time.

He shifts sides, brushing his chin against my other nipple, and the sensation zaps right down to my dick. "Sonofabitch." I can hardly even move my hips, because he's got my legs spread and my ankles tied down so tight. "You just gonna do that the whole damn night?" I gasp.

Shouldn't have ever told him how much I liked the damn beard, either.

"Perhaps." He's just as cool as a cucumber, the bastard. "Seem to be getting quite a rise out of you with it," he says. My dick is so hard I can hammer nails with it, and my body is one big agonizing knot of expectation. "Please—"

Shit, he's licking now, I don't know if that's better or worse. I lift my head, watching his pink tongue move over my nipple, soothing the raw, sensitive skin. He catches me watching, and quick as a wink his mouth is over mine, his beard rasping my face as he sucks on my tongue like I want him to suck on my cock. I jerk against my restraints again, trying to get his attention. I only get a low chuckle in response.

"Want something?" he asks.

I bite at his chin.

He laughs again, winds his fingers into my hair, and holds my head down as he kisses my throat. "I just adore you, you know that?" he says to me.

"Furry damn monster," I growl, as he nuzzles and scrapes at my skin. "I don't like you at all, not one—oh god—not one damn bit." As if he's going to believe that.

"No?" He begins to kiss a path directly down my chest, and I can't talk anymore, because I'm practically holding my breath in anticipation. He's scraping his way down my sternum, all soft lips, wet tongue, harsh whiskers—shit, I can barely take it, now he's on my stomach, oh, fuck that's good, that damn nasty tongue in my belly button—I've never been so alive before, my entire body is humming—oh god yeah, I just love the way he does this to me, drives me crazy like this, because now he's scratching that gorgeous beard all up and down my cock—


Malcolm hurtles back into bed, practically landing on top of me. Of course I don't mind, I just wrap myself all around his warm, naked skin, pausing to examine his still-damp beard. "Yep, all clean," I inform him.

"I can't believe you came all over my face," he says, all ruffled feathers and offended dignity. "Have you no self control at all?"

I only hug in tighter in response. "What the hell did you expect, rubbing your face on my dick like that? And by the way, just try and tell me you intended come all over my leg right afterwards."

He tucks his face into my neck, and I can tell he's grinning. "Of course."

"No you did not."

He gnaws on my neck for a moment, his chin abrading my skin, then admits, "Okay, so I had it in mind to fuck your mouth, but when you lost it and splattered all over my face—you were so blasted hot, I just had to come, too."

The way he whimpered and moaned while jerking himself off on me—just beautiful. "I loved it," I tell him. "It was hot and nasty. Just like you."

He kisses my mouth, then props himself up on an elbow, taking my hand in his. "Oh, now, " he murmurs, kissing the red, raw skin at my wrist. "Did I tie you too tightly? You should have told me."

"That's half the fun, darlin'."

Shaking his head, he kisses my wrist again, and I tickle his beard with my fingertips. "So," he says, "You approve? The beard stays?" His voice is almost shy this time.

"Hell yeah," I say. "It's sexy. And, you know, you're damn gorgeous either way." I love telling him stuff like that, because even though he plays it cool, I can tell that deep down he's flattered and a little embarrassed. "Gorgeous and sexy."

"Right." He pulls me to him and we snuggle up, my head resting on his chest. "And 'sinister', too." he reminds me.

"Definitely sinister."

He's quiet for a moment. "Menacing?" he asks.

"That's you, darlin', all the way," I assure him. "Menacing as hell."

He snorts with laughter, and I kiss his chest. My skin is raw and my nipples ache, but I'm thinking that this beard thing is going to be mighty fun.

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