"Hey, watch it there, that's Starfleet property you're about to destroy." Trip warned Malcolm.

Malcolm glared at the man, already annoyed by the manner in which he was sitting at his desk—dressed in a painfully colorful shirt, feet up, a bowl of ice cream sitting on his lap. Utterly oblivious to the disarray surrounding him. As usual, in spite of it all, Malcolm found him disturbingly appealing. It was enough to give him a stomachache. Picking up the padd that he had narrowly avoided stepping on, he asked, "Then what the hell is it doing on the floor?" He placed the item on a nearby shelf. "I suppose it wanted to join every other bloody item in your quarters?"

"Could be," Trip mused, through a mouthful of ice cream. He swallowed, then smacked his lips. "Or maybe all this is my own version of a defense shield." He grinned.

Malcolm frowned, kicking aside a pair of shoes. "Are you saying you'd rather I leave?" he asked querulously. "Because I have something rather important to discuss with you. But if you'd rather I just go—", he said, even though he had no intention of leaving until he said his piece.

After pretending to think it over, Trip told him, "You may stay. And discuss." He licked his spoon before scooping up another enormous spoonful of dripping ice cream. He removed his foot from the chair beside him and gestured to Malcolm, indicating that Malcolm should sit.

Malcolm rolled his eyes as he picked his way across the room. "Why, thank you, m'lord. It's quite an honor to be allowed entrance."

"And don't you know it," Trip responded, winking at Malcolm, before slurping down yet another huge spoonful of ice cream.

Cheeky bastard. "Good lord, must you make such a racket while eating?" Malcolm asked, trying not to stare at the smudge of ice cream on Trip's upper lip. "And please, I beg of you, swallow before answering my question."

Trip finished his mouthful of ice cream, then licked his lips, eyeing Malcolm thoughtfully. "Funny, you don't seem to mind me slurpin' and makin' noise when I'm eatin' your cock, do you?" he said at last. "Or your ass."

"How very crude of you," Malcolm commented, even though his face growing warm. No, he didn't mind, not one bit.

"Face it, me bein' crude makes your cock weep, don't it?"

"No, it does not," Malcolm said, a little too quickly. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying not to think about Trip's mouth. Or Trip's tongue. And lips. No, he was not thinking at all about warm, wet pressure sliding down his cock, a gentle mouth suckling his balls, an eager tongue sliding inside of him. "Not at all. If fact, just the opposite," he lied, resisting the urge to squirm in his chair.

"Then why are you sportin' one hell of a boner?" Trip asked, gesturing toward Malcolm's crotch with his spoon. "Unless you've taken to wandering around with conduit pipe in your pants."

"Perhaps I have."

"Sure, Malcolm, anything you say. You're not at all hard and erect because of me." Trip held out a spoonful of ice cream. "Want some?"

"It's that god-awful Rocky Road, isn't it?" Malcolm asked, peering at the spoon, choosing to ignore Trip's accusation. "Heavens, no, I don't see how you can eat that swill."

"It's damn good, that's how I can eat it." But Trip put the bowl down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on Malcolm. "But there are other things I'd rather eat, if you know what I mean."

Malcolm shook his head, despite the growing warmth inside his body. "No, that's not why I'm here. We need to talk."

"Oh." Trip seemed momentarily taken aback. "Really? All that pissiness wasn't just foreplay?"

Malcolm hesitated. He had been rather rude, hadn't he? "Yes. No. Oh, hell, I don't know," he said, flustered. "It's just that I find you extremely irritating."

He didn't expect the sweet smile in response to his words.

"You annoy the hell outta me, too," Trip said. "See, at least we agree on one thing," he added brightly.

"So," Malcolm asked, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt a headache coming on. "Do you know why do I keep coming back here?" he asked.

"Because my bed is bigger?" Trip asked.

Malcolm shook his head.

"Because even though I'm extremely irritating, I can make you scream like a banshee in bed?"

Malcolm scowled.

Trip slid his chair closer. "Because you can make *me* scream like a banshee in bed?"

Malcolm grew thoughtful. "Perhaps," he acknowledged. "But I'm afraid its goes even further than that."

"Your tellin me that this is about more than just howlin' good sex?"

"Yes. It's more than that," Malcolm told him. "You see, I seem to have inexplicably fallen in love with you."

Trip blinked, clearly surprised, and then lifted his eyebrows in mock dismay. "Oh no, darlin'! How awful for you," he exclaimed. But he couldn't keep the sparkle from his eyes.

"Dreadful," Malcolm agreed. He couldn't take his eyes from Trip's face, because Trip was gazing at him with such warmth, with such sweetness that Trip didn't even have to say it. Malcolm already knew.

Trip said it anyway. "I love you too, you know."

"That only makes things worse."

"It's a terrible, terrible tragedy," Trip agreed, nodding solemnly.

Sighing heavily, Malcolm said, "I can't understand how such a thing could have happened. You drive me crazy."

"I suppose I should have warned you about my high level of irresistibility."

"It would have been prudent of you," Malcolm said. "All I really wanted was sex, you know. Nice, healthy stress-releasing sex with a friend. And look what happens." He sighed.

Trip reached out a gentle hand to caress Malcolm's cheek. "Can't say I'm sorry, 'cause it would be a lie." With a sly smile he leaned forward and added in a whisper, "even though you drive me batshit crazy, too." Then his lips touched Malcolm's, in a kiss so sweet that it took Malcolm's breath away.

It was always like this with Trip, even with a simple kiss, a mere brush of their lips and Malcolm was lost. It was more than just the hardening of his cock, the rush of blood to his nether regions. It was the awful realization that without Trip he would be something less than he had been before he had ever laid eyes on the man. That somehow this annoying, maddening man filled a gap in his soul that he never before knew existed.

He slid his hand around the back of Trip's neck, fingers toying with the short, bristly hair. "Now what the hell do we do?" he murmured into Trip's cheek as he kissed it.

"Hmmm. Good question," Trip said, rubbing his face against Malcolm's lips. "But I'm gettin' some ideas here."

Malcolm was getting some ideas of his own. He put his hands on Trip's chest, running his palms over those fine muscles, seeking and finding the buttons to Trip's wildly colored shirt. As they continued kissing and nuzzling he unbuttoned that dreadful shirt, Trip helping him. When Trip's tongue slipped between Malcolm's lips, though, Malcolm lost all coordination. Trip tasted sweet, of chocolate and marshmallows, and Malcolm thought that maybe Rocky Road ice cream wasn't such an awful flavor after all. Eventually Malcolm was able to push the shirt off of Trip's shoulders so that his hands could explore all that soft freckled skin and wiry hair.

"You wear these nightmarish shirts just so I can get them the hell off of you, don't you," Malcolm asked, nibbling at Trip's jaw.

"Now why would I go and do a thing like that?" Trip murmured, his hands stroking Malcolm's thighs. "Maybe I just want to see that disdainful look you get when you see 'em. Like you just can't believe you're even in the same room with me."

He stood, pulling Malcolm up out of the chair, enveloping Malcolm in his arms. Malcolm buried his face in Trip's neck, breathing in his scent, feeling the heat of Trip's skin against his face as he rubbed his body against Trip. "No, no, that expression simply means that I can't believe you aren't naked." Malcolm ran his tongue along Trip's collarbone, the skin satiny smooth against his tongue. "You should always be naked. You're far to beautiful to be all covered up."

Trip pushed his hand between Malcolm's legs. "You say the craziest stuff, you know that?"

Malcolm groaned in dismay. "I hate the way you make me do that." He pushed his cock against Trip's hand. "You touch me and I begin spouting sappy drivel. I can't help myself."

"That's one of the things I love about you, darlin. You're such a sweet wiseass." He squeezed Malcolm's cock, sending shivers of pleasure though Malcolm's body. "And a damn horny one, too. A gorgeous, sweet, obnoxious wiseass. What's there not to love?"

In response Malcolm's roving hands found and tweaked Trip's nipples. Trip gasped with delight, his hands moving to grab Malcolm's ass, shoving his own hard cock against Malcolm's body. "Oh, god, Trip—" Malcolm moaned, scrambling to pull his own shirt off, so that he could feel Trip's skin against his, feel that deliciously hairy chest against his body.

But as soon as he got it off Trip pushed him backward, tugging on Malcolm's pants. Malcolm felt the cold, hard surface of Trip's desk on his ass, felt the cool air on his cock, and somehow his pants were down around his knees. "Oh," he said, as he realized what Trip was doing. He perched his butt on the desk, as removed Malcolm's pants, shoes and socks, pushing Malcolm's legs apart. The ice-cream bowl tumbled to the ground, forgotten, ice cream spilling out as Malcolm panted, "yes, please—oh yes—" because his body ached for Trip, needed Trip, needed him right now, needed Trip inside of him, outside of him, all around him.

"Gorgeous, Malcolm, you're just gorgeous and naked and horny, and all mine," Trip marveled as he held Malcolm leg's apart, spreading him open, exposing him.

Malcolm reveled in the hunger in Trip's eyes. He loved that look on Trip's face, loving the way Trip had him sprawled on the desk, loved the way Trip was eyeing him up like an unexpected feast. But he was more than ready for the feasting to begin. "Lovely sentiment, my dear. Feel free to get on with the touching anytime now—oh!" he gasped, as Trip bent his head to kiss his cock. "That's more like it."

Wet, warm and wonderful. God, he loved Trip's sloppy, noisy mouth. But then it was gone. "Damn it, Trip—"

"Wait right here, you hear me? Don't move," Trip told Malcolm as he unzipped his pants, nearly stumbling in his haste to remove them as he backed away. "I wanna be in you—I have to fuck you, you damn wiseass, okay? Just like this—on my desk—me inside of that pretty little ass—"

Malcolm clutched the edge of the desk, nodding as Trip babbled. His cock throbbed in time with his pounding heart, but he didn't mind, because as much as he loved Trip's awful mouth, he loved his pushy cock even more.

"Just gotta get—don't move now—don't go no where—" Trip was saying as he hurried to the bedside table. Malcolm closed his eyes, listening as Trip pulled open drawers. "I know that stuff is here somewheres, god damn it, son of a bitch where'd we leave it—Ah!"

Malcolm opened his eyes to see Trip triumphantly holding up the lubricant. "Well, get your ass—or rather, your *dick* over here, right now," he commanded.

Trip did hurry back, and stood before him, naked, a vision of sleek, graceful muscle, broad chest, flat stomach, narrow bony hips, proud, cock jutting out. "Now what was that you wanted again?" he teased.

Dreadful, irresistible man. "And you accuse me of being the wiseass." Malcolm said. "I want you to fuck me. Now." He wrapped his legs around Trip's waist, pulling him in close until he could feel Trip's cock bumping against his balls. "Hard. If it's not too much trouble."

"I think I can manage it, darlin' love of my life," Trip murmured, kissing him.

"What? You are such—oh, god, yes," Malcolm moaned as a cold, slick finger penetrated him, taking his breath away. Then it was two fingers. He twisted and shoved against Trip's hand, canting his hips upward. More items fell from the desk, clattering to the floor as he leaned back, bracing himself with his hands against the shelf behind him.

"Whoa—Malcolm," Trip said as he stumbled backwards. "Just hold it a sec—"

"Now."

Trip positioned himself and pushed inside of Malcolm, who pushed back, groaning. "That's it—oh—lord Trip, I love you," he blurted out. He could feel Trip's cock, hard and hot, pulsing inside of him, stretching him to the limit, giving him what he needed, filling in that empty space. There was no pain at all as Trip slid inside of him, balls deep. Just pleasure, soul-searing pleasure.

"You all right? This okay?" Trip panted, thrusting carefully. "That was kind of quick, you know?"

"Harder," Malcolm ordered, tightening his legs around Trip's waist.

"You got it, baby." With a twist of his hips, Trip plunged his cock into him again and again, picking up speed.

"Come on, come on—" Malcolm encouraged, because christ, it was good, it was so fucking good. Just to watch Trip, right there between his legs, bent over him like that, muscles flexing as he pumped his hips, god it was a beautiful sight. "More," he gasped.

Trip grunted and grabbed hold of Malcolm's hips, positioning Malcolm so that he could go in deeper, sending shockwaves all through Malcolm' s body with each thrust. "Doin' the best I can here—not gonna last—"

"More. I need—" Malcolm reached for his own cock, not even realizing what he was saying, utterly lost in the rapture, only aware of Trip's cock in his ass, and his own imminent release. "Come on, damn you, love you—"

He spilled all over his hand as he climaxed, moaning joyfully, muscles convulsing all around Trip's cock. Trip shoved inside of him one last time and with a strangled sob, jerked and strained against him, mouth open, eyes wide. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh, damn, Malcolm, " he whispered as he came.

He half fell against Malcolm body, squashing him against the hard desk, slick, hairy chest heaving against Malcolm's. Not that Malcolm minded, taking the opportunity hug Trip tight, kissing his sweaty face.

"Wow," Trip said at last.

Malcolm chuckled. "Wow, indeed," he acknowledged, licking Trip's ear. "That was glorious. You're bloody marvelous. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Marvelous." He wondered if it was still drivel when he actually meant it.

Trip raised his head. "Yeah?" he asked, with a sweet vulnerability that went straight to Malcolm's heart.

"Yes, very much so," Malcolm told him. The shelf behind him poked him awkwardly in the back, his thighs ached, the edge of the desk dug into his legs, and come was dripping down his stomach. And the most annoying, aggravating man in the world was sprawled on top of him. But all was right with his world. He was in love.