Malcolm

I wake slowly, wrapped in warmth, the warmth of another body pressed to mine. I keep my eyes closed; recalling the events of the previous night, knowing that the man pressed into my arms is Trip. I sigh with remembered pleasure and then breathe deeply, drawing the scent of him into my lungs, filling myself with him, knowing that once he wakens…once Archer wakens, my brief time with him will be at an end. One night, is all Archer gave me. One night with which I am sure I will torment myself for a thousand nights to follow.

I'm not sorry I agreed to it, and I'm not defeated yet. Not by a long way. I'll accept this one night on Archer's terms, but I will be alert for other opportunities. I know Trip enjoyed what happened last night just as much as I did. I plan to ensure he doesn't forget that.

My senses begin to prickle. With my eyes still closed I can, nevertheless, sense a subtle change in the atmosphere. Trip is still asleep; a dead weight across my arm, his head resting on my shoulder but someone else is awake. Archer. Even as I think it, I feel movement, a shift of the mattress under me as the captain changes position. I tense, aware that the way Trip is snuggled against me might spell danger. I am under no illusions about Archer. Not since he almost suffocated that alien in an airlock. The man is dangerous and would make a formidable enemy.

There is silence and the snesations of movement still. Too still. After a few moments, Trip makes a small sound, a grunt of protest. Much as I enjoy the sensation of being enveloped in him, I decide that for now, discretion is the better part of valour.

Feigning sleep, I mumble something unintelligible and gently push Trip away, rolling onto my other side before I open my eyes, yawn theatrically and stretch pretending only now, to awaken.

***

Archer

I've been awake for a little while, watching them. The first shock of seeing my lover curled against the slender, darkhaired form of Malcolm Reed has worn off and is now only reflected in the dull thudding of my heart as I study them together.

Contrasts. They're opposites in looks and in temperament. Trip's golden, sunny looks and temper contrast with the moody, cooler temper of the Brit, and yet they also complement each other. I suppress a growl as I reach to place a hand on Trip's waist.

He's dead asleep he always sleeps better when we're together. That's one of the reasons I invited him to my bed. I know the crew think that Tucker and I have been lovers a lot longer than we have. It's really only been since we entered the expanse though. Before that, we fooled around occasionally but it was never serious. A quick kiss or a stolen 'feel' as Trip puts it, here and there. I didn't fuck him for the first time until a few weeks after his sister was killed and even then it was comfort sex and nothing more. That's what I told myself, anyway.

Trip responds so perfectly well to my need to control and dominate in the bedroom. He accepts it as normal and natural; an extension of my personality—the traits that got me the big chair on *Enterprise* his submission thrills and excites me and I want to keep that for a long time. Although I know Trip has never been in a similar relationship, I also know he enjoys giving up the responsibility of leadership for a time.

I shift my gaze from my lover to the man he is snuggled against. Malcolm sleeps quietly, the same way he does everything else. His head is turned towards Trip, his nose almost buried in the mop of golden hair. I study the dark lashes resting against the Brit's pale cheeks. The way they flutter as he dreams. I wonder what he is dreaming about, and then let my gaze travel further studying his almost delicate features. His looks are a contrast to his temperament and I know now that, like me, he likes to take control in the bedroom. He submitted to my lead last night, but I'm no fool. I know he only did that to gain his own ends. I sense that he is already scheming a way to have more time with my lover.

I narrow my eyes and the hand resting on Trip's waist flexes, eliciting a small grunt of protest. Malcolm stirs, muttering, and pushes Trip away so he can roll over.

I watch as he stretches, sinuous as a panther, yawning as he comes to full wakefulness, and for the first time I wonder if he's really been asleep all this time.

Trip grumbles, rolls onto his back and blinks awake. He's always amazed me with his ability to waken so quickly; annoyed me with his morning cheer. He irritates me now as he glances from me to Malcolm and a slow, happy grin spreads itself across his lips.

"Mornin' you two," he says, his voice hoarse as it always is in the morning. I smile at him and nod an acknowledgement.

Malcolm yawns again, stretching lazily and rolls onto his back.

"Already?" Just the perfect note of teasing incredulity in his voice. I feel a flicker of anger and have to get moving before I do something I'll regret.

"Already." I state and roll from the bed, heading towards my bathroom. "And we're all on shift in an hour."

My meaning is not lost on him, and Malcolm is immediately out of bed and looking for his clothes. I glance back, watching the facade of dutiful subordinate fall over him like a garment. He's looking away from me and doesn't notice how my fingers curl at my sides.

"Trip." I say, barely more than a whisper. "Shower."

I know when we come back, Malcolm will be gone.