I walk slowly across the hull. The only sound I can hear is my own breathing. The view is absolutely stunning—the gray hull of the ship stretching out before me, and then the stars, thousands and thousands of stars. I'm experiencing the vastness of space, up close and personal. I feel so free out here.

I used to think it was piss-poor design that made you have to suit up and do a spacewalk just to get to the panel, but now I'm thinking that it wasn't an oversight. After being cooped up for so long, it's fun to go walking on the outside of the ship for a change. Even if it's just for something as mundane as replacing a couple of power couplings for the sensor array

I activate my comm with a heavily gloved finger. "Cap'n, got the replacements and I'm on my way. Oh, and in case you've forgotten, the view from here is just spectacular," I tease. I know he likes coming out here too, but it's hard for a captain of a starship to justify such a thing.

"I'm sure it is, Commander. Have fun, and we'll try not to forget and go to warp while you're out here."

"Real funny Cap'n. Catch you later." I switch the comm off, and once again I'm all alone. I get myself oriented, then clump my way over to the panel in my magnetic boots. I feel awkward and clumsy in the EVA suit, though. It's been a while. Settling down on the hull, in a less than graceful manner, I open the panel exposing the series of worn couplings.

Before I get started, I remember to do the standard suit check—the primary life support system, the display module, the biomedical monitoring system, everything. Even my tool belt. Don't want no surprises out here. Everything checks out fine, as it did before I stepped out of the airlock. Although, I swear, every time I seal myself up in one of these things my nose starts to itch. Wiggling it around helps some, but not much. I'm contemplating the possibilities of installing a nose-scratcher of some sort in the helmet when my comm chirps. "Tucker here," I announce, wondering who's calling.

"Hello, my dear Commander," a familiar voice croons. "How is the sexiest engineer in all of Starfleet?"

"Malcolm!" I exclaim, happy to hear from him. In a silly mood, no less. "Hey, what's up?" I remove the first coupling.

"Huh. Funny you should ask that," he says.

"Why's that?" I ask, sorting through the different couplings I've brought with me. It's so darn sweet of him to call me, just to see how I'm doing. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothing yet," he says. I'm not sure what he's talking about but before I can ask he asks me, "How goes the work?"

Red to red, blue to blue, I think to myself as I orient the coupling properly, then reach for the handy little laser gizmo to seal the connections. "Fine, darlin', just fine. Just routine maintenance, shouldn't take too long."

"Glad to hear it. You watch yourself out there." With the way the speaker is set up inside my helmet, it feels like he's whispering in my ear. I can almost feel his breath tickling my neck.

"Always do, you know that." I tell him sincerely. Truth is, I love the way he fusses over my safety. Makes me feel special. "I'll be back inside before you know it."

"Hmmm. Inside. What a lovely thought. I do indeed prefer it when you are *inside*," Malcolm's voice gets lower. "Of me, that is."

Oh. Goodness. I start to feel a little tingling sensation right down along the inside of my thighs. "Malcolm," I warn with a grin, "careful, darlin', someone might be listenin' in. Where are you anyway?"

"I'm in your quarters," he breathes, then makes a small, satisfied sound, just like he's doing a full-body stretch. "Patiently—ah—awaiting your return."

I enjoy seeing him stretch like that. Especially when he's naked. The way his body moves—oh yeah, I like that a lot. "Shift's over?" I ask distractedly, sealing the connections on the second set of couplings.

"Indeed. And here I am, ready to engage in some pleasurable activities, and you're out there. Pity." He sighs, kind of dramatically. "I suppose I'll just have to entertain myself. Hold on a moment, love."

I hear some rustling over the channel. "What are you doin'?" I ask, even though I'm pretty sure he's put the comm down.

A few seconds later I hear his voice again. "There now. Much better." There's another satisfied sound, from deep in Malcolm's throat. "So, would you like to know what I'm wearing?" he asks conversationally.

All at once I realize what he's doing. "Stop it, Malcolm," I hiss. "You stop it right now. Anyone could be listening."

"Don't be daft. I have a secure channel. Now ask me what I'm wearing," he continues, his voice low and husky.

"No, I will not—" Never should have let on how sexy his damn voice is. I try to focus on the work at hand. Blue to blue, red to red. But I fumble and the coupling slips out of my hand. I manage to snatch it out of the air before it floats off.

"Go on, ask me. You know you want to."

He's practically purring now, and I can just picture the smug look on his face. Then I get to picturing a bit more than just his face, and I can't help myself, I have to know. "Okay, okay. Just what exactly are you wearin'?"

"*Nothing*," he replies with great relish.

Damn. Malcolm, naked. All that gorgeous skin. Always so warm to the touch. I tug at my suit, trying to adjust it, because it's suddenly gotten more than a bit uncomfortable. Especially that urine collection device.

"Still there, love?" he asks. I can just *hear* the smirk.

"Just where the hell else would I be?" I snap as I check the suit's pressure gage.

"Just making sure," he tells me. "By the way, in case you were wondering, I'm sitting at your desk, with my feet up, and with my legs spread. Rather wide." He says the last part in a loud whisper, as if he's sharing a big secret.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it Malcolm. Hope you are comfy. And not getting a chill or anything—" I'm babbling, and I know it. I look at the power coupling in my hand; I don't know if it's the old one I've just taken out or the new one that needs to be put in. My suit is getting so damn tight and all I can think about is Malcolm, my Malcolm, naked and sprawled out in my chair, naked and—

"Want to know where my hand is?" he asks.

"No! No I don't." I answer quickly. "Okay?" I err on the side of caution and decide that the coupling in my hand must be the old one. "You listen to me—"

Then Malcolm sighs. Sighs just like he does when I wrap my hand around his hard cock. "Are you *certain*? I think perhaps you really would like to know."

I clutch the coupling tightly. Next round of replacements. Red to red. Green to blue. Hand to—"Shit." I pull the coupling out.

I hear a throaty little chuckle. "Still there, love?" he coos in my ear. "Because my hand certainly is. Although I truly wish it were yours. The way you touch me—ooh." He lets out a breathy little moan that goes straight to my groin.

Shit shit shit. "Malcolm," I groan in dismay, picturing the whole damn scene in my head. My hands are getting sweaty inside these damn heavy gloves, and I'm so hard that it hurts.

"Ask me. Go on, ask me—before it's too late," he pants.

"You're puttin' me on, right? Please just tell me you're makin' all this up."

"Would I do such a thing, my dear? I—" he grunts, like he's moving around in his seat.

"Yes, you would, you little shit you." I can't stand it anymore. "Where's your damn hand?" I blurt out.

Silence. Then, "Oh. Well, now I'm using it to open your desk drawer," he says, matter-of-factly.

Goddamn tease.

"The lower right-hand drawer, that is. Huh, what have we here?"

He knows very well what we keep in that drawer.

"Now here's an old friend," he says. "Ah yes. Remember last week? You standing with your hands against the wall, me kneeling in front of you…you fucked my mouth while I fucked you with—"

My cock spasms. "Malcolm—" I croak. My mouth is suddenly so dry I can barely speak.

"Did you say something, my love?"

"Just that I, uh, remember." Like I could ever forget Malcolm making me come so hard I was literally sobbing. My balls ache at the memory, and my hand slides down to my crotch, seeking relief, only I can't even rub myself through the damn EVA suit. Bastard. He's making me crazy, and he knows it. I look blankly at the remaining couplings, trying to remember what the hell it is I'm doing out here. Other than getting as horny as hell.

"It was rather fun, wasn't it?" Malcolm sighs again. "I do so love making you come. The way you cry out my name. Oh—" he gasps.

I wonder what in god's name he's doing now. "Just stop it, Malcolm, please?" One last row of couplings and I'm done. And I can get out of this damn suit of armor. Despite the temperature controls I can feel a trickle of sweat running down the side of my face. Couplings. Right. Red to red—

"Want to know where my fingers are?"

He's a filthy, dirty bastard. I close my eyes. "No."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

For a moment all I can hear is my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. I can't imagine what the record of my vitals are going to look like. Phlox will probably pull me in for a complete physical. I tug at the suit again, then squeeze my legs together. The way the receptacle is chafing my erection is actually starting to feel kind of good.

Malcolm chuckles again. "My fingers, well, let's just say my fingers are right where your cock should be." His voice is all soft and breathy again, just the way he sounds when I'm inside of him. Which is just where I want to be right now. Buried deep inside his smug little ass. Not out on the hull of Enterprise wearing a goddamn EVA suit with all them damn annoying stars watching me.

"Malcolm, you're a real son of a bitch, you know that?" I growl. I'm on the last coupling. Thank god.

"What's wrong, love? Suit getting a tad uncomfortable?" he asks, nice and polite now.

"It's fine. Just fine." I snarl. I swear, I'm going to make that man howl when I get back. I seal the final connection. "Just want you to know, I'm all through here, and on my way back."

"Splendid," he purrs. "Although it may be too late…"

"That is, if I can manage to get to the airlock with my balls all tied in a knot," I tell him as I stand up. Painfully.

"Mmm. What an intriguing image."

"You're an evil, evil man, Malcolm," I tell him as I clump across the hull. "And you know what? You made me fall in love with you under false pretenses. You made me think you were so sweet and shy, and always so god damned polite with that nice little smile but it turns out deep down inside you're nasty, just plain nasty." I continue the running litany as I open the hatch, climb down the ladder, and cycle the lock. "I'm tellin' you—you are nasty and dirty as all get-out. I honestly don't know why the hell I put up with you, you pain in the ass, you dirty, rotten—cruel—did I mention cruel yet? You're cruel, nasty—"

I open the internal door of the airlock and of course, there he is, the little shit, fully dressed in his civvies, comm in hand, laughing his goddamn ass off.

I should have known. "I hate you," I say, even though he's closed his comm and pocketed it. "You're the meanest, nastiest thing in this whole damn universe, putting me on like that—"

He shakes his head, comes up to me and kisses my faceplate.

"Don't you try and be acting all sweet now," I warn as he unlatches my headpiece and lifts it. "I'm still really pissed at you." But it's nearly impossible to be mad at him because he's just adorable when his face is all full of mischief like that. "Do you have an idea how miserable this—"

He covers my mouth with his, effectively shutting me up. And he keeps right on kissing me, sliding his nasty tongue across my lips as he unfastens the front panel of my suit. I open my mouth to his hot little mouth, kissing him back eagerly as I pull off my gloves. He unlatches, he unfastens, I tug and pull, and all the while we're kissing. I swear the man can kiss like nobody's business, and I'm running out of air but it's so damn goddamn glorious to be kissing him like this.

He's got the suit off my shoulders, and I'm struggling to get my arms out of the sleeves. He grabs my thigh, then pats it. "Lift," he says, right up against my lips. I lift my leg so he can reach the latch for my boots, and we're kissing again, big, wet, open-mouthed kisses like we're trying to devour each other. I have to hang onto him as I undo the boots so I don't fall over but somehow we manage. I finally step out of the damn suit and all I'm wearing is the snug undergarment. Which Malcolm seems to like, because he's running his hands all over my body and I like *that* just fine. I got my hands on him, too, on his ass, under his shirt, on his neck, in his hair. He moans into my mouth and then he's unzipping my undergarment.

"Malcolm," I moan, "Right here? What—" He peels the thing off of me and now I'm naked, stark naked right there in the staging area, naked and hard. Malcolm's rubbing up against me and I swear there's so much heat between us we're going to set off the ship's alarms. We dive back into each other mouths, and Malcolm backs me up against the wall. When he rubs his palm over my dick I slide down to the floor, taking him with me.

"Christ, Trip," he moans into my neck, "I think I ended up torturing myself worse than you."

And I think he might be right because he's climbing into my lap, straddling me, nibbling my neck as he strokes me, and I need him so damn bad. I pull his shirt off while he struggles to get his pants undone and when I finally get his dick in my hands he's just as hard and hot as I am. I hear that sigh of delight, just like I did over the comm. He's such a tease—talking to me like that—he's a wicked, wicked tease and I love him for it. I fist his wicked cock and he strains eagerly into my hand.

"Ask me where *my* hand is, darlin'", I pant.

"Tell me," he demands, his breath is hot against my face. "Oh, god Trip, tell me."

We've got our dicks smashed together, hands all tangled up around them, stroking and pulling. He's such a heavy, solid weight on my legs, his hips rocking back and forth as our hands whip up and down the length of our cocks.

"Wrapped all 'round my nasty lover's dick." The wall is damn cold against my sweaty, naked back and the floor's hard on my butt but I don't care, because Malcolm is in my lap shuddering and groaning like some wild thing and I'm groaning and moving right along with him. "Nasty lover, nasty dick, so damn—oh."

I can't talk any more, because the knot in my balls is finally untangling, I'm feeling so loose and liquid and the feeling is flowing up from inside of me, painfully sweet and I feel even freer than when I did out there in space. I wind one hand in Malcolm's fabulous hair while he sweeps his tongue over my ear, and oh god, thank god, finally, I'm coming, coming all over myself and Malcolm, I'm making one big glorious mess and it's just so damn wonderful I can barely stand it.

Malcolm is still moving, clutching my shoulder, moaning my name desperately, pumping into my fist. His cock is wet and slick with my come now, and he's so hard, he's shaking, I can tell even through my post orgasmic daze that he's close. I squeeze him even tighter and pull his face in so I can whisper in his ear, "When we're done here I'm draggin' your ass back to my place and I'm gonna fuck you so hard you're gonna—"

Before I can finish he just loses it, crying out, his body straining against mine as he comes, his hot liquid streaming onto my belly and he's just so beautiful. Finally his body goes limp and he slumps heavily against my chest. We just hold each other quietly as we slowly come down, enjoying the moment. I pet his back and nuzzle the side of his face; he strokes my chest. We're sticky and messy—at least I'm naked, but Malcolm's got come smeared all over his pants. He doesn't seem to mind though, and just snuggles in closer with a deep sigh.

Eventually he opens his eyes and kisses my nose. His eyes are sleepy and he looks deliciously satisfied and content. "So, love," he says with a smile, "am I still a bastard? What was it you said—a nasty, evil bastard?"

"Yup. Nasty, evil, pain-in-the-ass bastard. Rotten, too." I hug him even tighter. "Nasty, evil, rotten bastard, and sexy as hell," I add.

"And you love me for it," he says.

"Did I mention smug yet?"

He chuckles and kisses me. "I love you too."

We've got quite a mess to clean up, and I have to take care of my suit, but that can wait. Because right now we're too busy cuddling, kissing and teasing. And he's right, of course. I just love my nasty Malcolm.