There was a low clank as the hyperspanner hit the ground. Not a hologram, I thought to myself. Which meant that—that the ship was literally bigger on the inside than on the outside. Which of course wasn't possible. Was it?

Trip and I were inside the cockpit area of the ship we'd found adrift in space. The ship had been taken into Launch Bay 2 for study. It was full of surprises—an interesting human corpse a hundred light-years from Earth, no clear power source, and now this. I stared at the circular tunnel drilling into the depths below. A metal ladder was affixed to the side. Perhaps the engine room was down there. We hadn't found anything in the cockpit that might suggest where it would be. But the engineer beside me was determined to locate it, no matter how foolhardy the endeavor might be.

Trip exhaled and stuck a leg down.

"You're not going down there," I admonished.

Trip said, "Got to get my spanner back."

Entering an alien ship without providing our commanding officer our whereabouts? "We've got to call the bridge first—let them know—" I began.

"Say what, Malcolm?" Trip said, already on his way down.

I considered. The captain already knew where we were—inside the alien ship. He would figure it out. I wondered what Trip would do if I didn't follow. I sighed and swung myself in, because I knew: he would go without me. I had to watch his back. Trip tended to get into trouble. Someone had to keep an eye on him. I could hear Trip clanging as he moved lower and lower; his boots scraped against the rungs. His torch made dull tapping noises against the metal of the ladder.

When Trip got to the bottom, he picked up his hyperspanner. I jumped down and followed him through a circular hole into a larger space just beyond. We shined our torches around. A large piece of equipment rose up from the floor, and more equipment was embedded in the walls. It was incredible. I couldn't believe all this was here—inside this tiny ship in Launch Bay 2.

"This gives 'space exploration' a whole new name," I said in wonder.

"I've read a couple papers on spatial geometry, but I never heard of a theory that would explain this," Tucker enthused. "The captain will never believe us. He's going to have to see this for himself. What do you think? A warp reactor?"

I looked at the device his torch was illuminating. I had no idea what it was, other than it probably wasn't a weapon console. "You're the engineer," I said. One very delighted engineer, I thought.

"Looks like a breach or an overload of some kind," Trip mused.

I wasn't paying attention. I was scanning some equipment on the wall. When I was right next to it, it showed up on my tricorder. "I'm picking up an energy signature," I reported. I lifted up the scanner. "It's very faint."

Trip stepped next to me. His body was warm against mine as he analyzed the wall with his own tricorder. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "This is the only thing we've seen that looks active. It's got that organic circuitry we noticed earlier. Everything else is toast. Let's remove it and take it to Engineering. I want to study it."

"Are you sure?" I said. "You could bring a whole team in here."

"Could, yeah, but it's tight quarters."

I put my arm around him. "Very tight, Commander," I agreed. I dropped one hand to his arse and gave a squeeze. "Very tight indeed."

"Very funny, Malcolm. Come on. Get to work."

He was eager to explore the ship and its technology. I had other things on my mind. I suspected I could change his. "I am working," I said. I held up my tricorder. "See? I'm scanning." I scanned him ostentatiously. "Human male. Quite excitable." Next I scanned the equipment. "Inexplicable machinery. Not very responsive." I pointed at him. "I think you're far more interesting." I stepped into his personal space. "Commander, let me help you with that." I smiled at him as I plucked his tricorder from his hand. "Let me reconfigure it to compensate for the darkness," I said helpfully. "I can increase the spectrum it records into the invisible range—infrared, for instance, or ultraviolet. X-rays, perhaps?" I began reprogramming it.

"Malcolm," Trip said, annoyed. "I can program my own damn tricorder." He made a grab for it, but I easily evaded him. I headed for the door. "You come right back here!" Trip yelled. "I want that equipment. I want my goddamned tricorder. Malcolm!" He sounded more than annoyed now.

I brought one leg up and slid my body through the circular hole. Now I was right next to the ladder. I turned and waited for Trip to join me. He did not look pleased. "Do I have your attention?" I asked.

"Yes," Trip fumed. "What do you want?"

I held back a smile as I held up the tricorder: it was to be his prize. "Why do you keep rushing about, running off half-cocked? More to the point, why do you drag me along?"

"I don't drag you," Trip said. "I suggest. You follow."

"I think you're starting to count on that," I said. "My following."

"Is that so bad?"

"Sometimes I think so," I said. "But I'm sure there will be compensation for all the trouble you get me into."

"Compensation?"

I activated the reprogrammed tricorder and set it on the ground. I wasn't interested in the ship anymore. "I'd like some compensation now, please. Then I'll help you pry that—that whatever it is out of the wall and drag it to Engineering."

"What did you have in mind?"

"What do you think?"

"Malcolm, I'm dying here. I really, really want to study that piece of equipment."

He was getting agitated, which was terribly appealing. I stepped close and put my hands on his shoulders. "I'm sure it can wait a minute or two," I said. "Come here, Commander." I brushed his lips with mine. "I'm dying here, Trip," I said in my best American accent, and he snorted. "Ah, I see you need convincing," I said, and I kissed him again, properly this time.

When we came up for air, we had our arms wrapped around each other. I felt light-headed. We hadn't been lovers long, but I somehow knew that it didn't matter—he would never cease to amaze me. Kissing him was always like kissing him for the first time—that trembling feeling of joy, of desire. I'd come to realize, just in the last day or two, how important he was to me. It was more than sex. The room was quite dark, but enough illumination slanted down from above for me to see his eyes on mine.

"Would you like to get back to work, Commander?" I asked in my most deferential voice. I trailed a hand up his chest. I could feel his heart beating. I had known it would be easy to get his attention. Certainly he was interested in the ship, but I had quickly discovered that a touch, an intimate smile were enough to make him think of…other things. Me, for example.

I was right. I had his attention. "No, Lieutenant," Trip purred, and he reached out and unzipped my uniform. "Darlin'. Malcolm. Mmmm." The last was said into my hair. He wound his fingers in it and rubbed his face against mine. "C'mere," he said.

I leaned back against the ladder and soaked up the sensation of kissing Trip in such a small, enclosed space, in the semidark, as if we were no longer on *Enterprise* but in our own world. I had only meant to tease him, but as Trip trailed kisses down my neck, I knew teasing wasn't going to be enough for us. The darkness and our isolation from the rest of the ship were all too inviting.

"Mmm," I said as he pulled my uniform off my shoulders. I wanted to encourage him. He bunched my T-shirt and undershirt up and found a nipple. He raked it lightly with his teeth, and suddenly I was hard and ready.

"Now, Trip," I said. I reached behind me and grabbed onto a ladder rung right behind my head. I spread my legs. My uniform was around my ankles. "Suck me."

"Malcolm," Trip moaned, and he bit and licked at my nipple some more.

"Now," I repeated.

He moved to my other nipple. "Not done here," he said against my chest.

"Oh." I arched my back, pushing against his mouth as he sucked. I decided I'd let him finish what he was doing. By the time he knelt down in front of me, I was trembling. I said "oh" again when his mouth closed around me. His mouth was pure heat, like hot, wet silk on my cock. I held onto the rung over my head and rotated my arse, pushing myself over and over again into Trip's mouth. My arse banged against a cold step with every rotation. The contrast with Trip's hot mouth was incredible. I was panting before long.

"Come on, darlin'," Trip said encouragingly. He lifted my cock and licked my balls, then rolled them with his fingers. He knew I liked it when he squeezed them.

I didn't need any encouragement. I was just about to come. "Harder," I said. "Squeeze me harder and suck. Damn it, Trip. Make me come. Make me come now."

Trip did. I thrust again and again into his mouth, riding that arc just before orgasm where sensation trembles on the edge, but because we were in uniform and on duty, because it was Trip and Trip's mouth, because I was so hot, and because I wanted him so much, because I loved him so much, I couldn't hold back—didn't want to hold back. My penis pulsed hard as I came, the release like a wave of warm water breaking over me. The only thing that held me up was my grip on the ladder as I poured myself into my lover's mouth.

"Malcolm," Trip said when he released me. "Christ." His voice sounded ragged.

It was hard to move, but I let go of the ladder and sank to my knees, so we were face to face. My uniform was still around my ankles. His arms went around me. I could feel the heat of his arousal through his uniform. There was no room to lie on the ground. "Up," I said, unzipping him, and he shrugged himself out of the top part of his uniform. I heard a clang when he bumped against the ladder.

"I'm going to come the second you touch me," Trip warned. "The way you sounded when you came—my god."

I stroked his length with my hands, and he moaned. It was hot to the touch. He was hot. He was beautiful. I was still swaying from my climax, and my heart was racing. And he was so excited, panting, the tip of his penis slick with come, I knew that he really was going to come any second. And my response to his lovemaking had done that to him.

I grabbed his arse with one hand and squeezed, and I clasped the base of his cock with my other hand. I took a deep breath and slid my mouth around his rod. Trip said, "Aaah," and I felt his arse cheek flex as he thrust forward. I sucked hard, feeling the wonderful complexity of texture, feeling his hardness, and then I opened my throat and slid my mouth forward until my lips touched my own hand clasped around the base of his cock. I enveloped his cock, but what I wanted to envelop was Trip himself. I wanted to take all of him inside my mouth, to make him a part of me. I swirled my tongue and sucked hard, and I felt his balls pulse.

"Malcolm," Trip said, and he put a hand on my head and pulled me in tighter as he shot into my mouth. I could feel Trip trembling, and I could feel the rush of his come through his shaft as it forced its way out. If I hadn't just climaxed, I would have come simply from the taste of him, the feel of him, from the way I felt about him, from his ecstasy.

When the hand he'd wound in my hair relaxed, I pulled back enough to swallow. I held him in my mouth, feeling him soften, reluctant to release him.

"I love how you do that to me," Trip said, his voice barely a whisper. He was leaning against the ladder. I grabbed a rung and used it to haul myself up. I pressed my body against his. Our spent cocks rubbed together.

"It's mutual," I said, kissing him. "Mmm. That was very, very nice."

"Thanks for following me down here," Trip said. "I know you didn't want to."

I rubbed my nose against his. "You know I'll follow you anywhere," I said, and it was the truth. "I'm getting claustrophobic. Should we continue on?"

Trip kissed me, a slow, lingering kiss. "Yes," he whispered. "You and me. We should continue on."

My arms tightened around him, and I smiled at him, put my head on his chest, and listened to him breathe. He put an arm around me and held me close. When Trip's heart rate returned to something resembling normal, I stepped back and we pulled our uniforms up.

"Let's get that piece of equipment," Trip said. "Where's my tricorder?"

"Sorry, I almost forgot," I said. I zipped up and picked it up off the floor. "Ah, yes. Would you care to see?"

"You didn't."

"I did." I pressed a few buttons. "Shall we assess its capabilities in low light?"

Trip laughed and shook his head. He looked over my shoulder as I pushed the play button. Watching was almost as fun as the experience had been, although the picture was a little small. "H'm," I said a minute or two later, angling it for a better view. "I see it automatically used the infrared spectrum to compensate for the lack of light." Did I really sound like that when I came? I hoped so. Those little delirious noises were intensely erotic.

"Yeah, I noticed that too," Trip said. "And check out the accuracy of the heat sensoring mechanism. Nice." He leaned against the ladder and pulled me against his body. He rested his chin on my shoulder as he watched over my shoulder, his arms loosely around my waist. I settled against him, struck by the rightness of being with him. It had never been this easy with previous lovers. Being with Trip was as natural as breathing, and it was just as necessary.

The tricorder played back the sounds of Trip saying "Malcolm" and coming into my mouth. "The sound's a little distorted," I said critically.

Trip's breath warmed my ear. "Malcolm, may I have my tricorder back, please, darlin'?"

I watched as the tricorder Trip released my head and moaned. The sound arrowed right to my heart.

"No," I decided. "Here. Use mine." I wanted to keep his—call it a memento.

***

The piece of equipment we had retrieved from the bowels of the ship refused to give up its secrets. We scanned it repeatedly, poked it and prodded it, without success.

"I just don't get it, Malcolm." Trip said, resting his chin in his hands, "it's got to do *something*."

"So you say." I keyed up the spectral analysis on the console and examined it one more time. It was definitely organic, and it was unlike anything we had ever encountered.

Trip leaned in next to me and watched the readout. His face was close to mine. I listened to his breathing. My recently acquired scanner was still in my pocket, and I resisted the urge to open it and watch our recorded encounter. I couldn't watch it while on duty anyway. And I didn't want Trip to take the tricorder back. It was mine now. I stole a look at Trip's intent face. I took in his profile: snub nose, blue eyes, fair skin. I felt my cock stir, and I quickly focused on the spectral analysis again.

Instead of analyzing the data, I found myself pondering Trip. We'd only been together a few weeks. I'd gone to Sickbay to visit Trip—well, really to debrief him, because he'd had contact with an alien species that the Vulcans, at least, thought was hostile.

He looked like hell—absolutely pitiful, in fact. He was bruised, his skin was badly sunburned, his lips were cracked and dry, and he had an IV line running into his arm, presumably to rehydrate him. He wasn't in the mood to be debriefed.

"I think you'd better come back another time," he said firmly. "Or maybe never. I can write up a report."

I looked down at him, lying on a biobed, wearing one of those skimpy robes that tied in the back. "Just tell me whether you think the species is inherently warlike, Commander," I coaxed.

"Oh, Malcolm, I don't know," Trip said, and his voice was so weary that I put my hands on top of his and patted him. "My friend seemed inclined to shoot first—well, hit first—and ask questions later. But if he's a soldier, he'd be trained to do that, right?" He and the alien had fought, but Trip had convinced the alien to work together to send a message to *Enterprise*. The ship had come just in time.

"I suppose so," I agreed.

"Do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Shoot first and ask questions later."

"Yes, but I'm trained to. I'm not inherently warlike. In fact, I'm a peaceable man."

Trip snorted.

"I much prefer negotiation as a tactic," I said. "But if you have to fight, my motto is, best to have the biggest guns."

I realized my hand was still resting on top of his, but I didn't move. He smiled wearily up at me, acknowledging my joke, before his eyes shut. I looked down at him and a wave of tenderness swept over me. Trip was sick and in pain, and I had seen that all too many times in the past. He had made too many visits to Sickbay—as had I, I realized. He gave a weary sigh, and I gripped his hand a little harder. He turned his hand, twining his fingers with mine.

"Sorry, Malcolm," he said, eyes still closed. "I'm just so tired."

"It's all right, Trip," I said. I stared at our hands for a moment, then I leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. He opened his eyes and stared at me, so I did it again, in case he hadn't been paying attention. "I'll let you get some rest," I said, and I gave his hand a farewell squeeze. He squeezed in return. I glanced over my shoulder right before I hit the door control. He was smiling at me—in a somewhat dazed fashion, but smiling nonetheless.

He came to my quarters two nights later, when he was better, although not fully recovered. We made love gently, and he was everything I imagined he would be—playful, considerate, passionate. Afterward, he sprawled across my bed, naked, breathless and utterly beautiful, and I realized he was right where he belonged. He had asked, almost shyly, if he could stay until morning. We curled up together, and it was a perfect fit. We'd spent every night together since—well, every night when we were both on board ship. I had tried to set ground rules, but Trip wasn't very good at following rules. It's a wonder the man ever made it though Starfleet Academy.

"Malcolm?"

I blinked. The man who refused to follow rules was talking to me. I hadn't even been aware that he'd moved off. "Yes, sir?" I asked, turning to face him.

Trip waved me over and extended a microcaliper. "Can you help me out?"

I accepted the tool. "Of course, Commander," I said. "I'm sorry. I was woolgathering."

Trip pointed to a stool, and I sat down. He sat down next to me. His leg stroked mine. We settled down to work, content with each other's company, as crew members walked purposefully past. But when he handed me another tool, his fingers brushed mine. He got up to fetch a tool, and when he sat back down, he put his hand on my shoulder and ran it down my arm. They were little things that meant I was his. We were together, even if nobody could tell. We knew. That was enough.

***

"Where is everybody?" Trip asked, looking around. The corridor was virtually deserted. We were headed to Launch Bay 2. We were going to pull some organic circuits out of the cockpit area to fix the equipment we'd removed from the ship.

"It's lunchtime," I said. "We should get something to eat right after we finish here."

"Sounds good." We rounded a corner. "So you really would go straight for the happy ending? Marry Jane Doe and live happily ever after?"

I shrugged. "I don't see why not," I said. "Although to be honest, I'm not the marrying type."

Trip gave me a look. We'd been teasing each other while we worked. I considered telling him I already had my happy ending, but I decided against it. I didn't want to frighten him—or have him grow complacent, I thought wryly.

Trip leaned over and opened the door, his arm brushing against mine. I led the way in.

Trip said, "Now, if I had a chance to see the past, I'd jump at it. I've always wanted to meet a stegosaurus." "He'd probably make a quick meal of you," I said.

"The stegosaurus was an herbivore," Trip informed me. He approached the ship with a prying tool and began working on a panel to the left of the door proper.

I considered. "If I could go back in time, I'd know exactly what year I'd pick." I helped him with the panel. "1588."

"What happened in 1588?"

Clearly Americans did not take history courses. "England defeated the Spanish Armada."

"I'm sure someone named Reed had a lot to do with that," Trip teased. The panel popped off.

I felt a brief moment of dizziness. Then Trip's arm brushed me as he leaned in and activated the door.

"Now, if I had a chance to see the past, I'd jump at it. I've always wanted to meet a stegosaurus," Trip said.

"He'd probably make a quick meal of you," I retorted.

"The stegosaurus was an herbivore."

I paused. Something was not right. I had a strong sensation of deja vu. "It seems we were just in here," I said, shaking my head. "If I could go back in time, I'd know exactly what year I'd pick." I helped Trip: he was prying at a small panel to the left of the door proper.

Trip said, in unison with me, "1588."

I was surprised. Americans usually didn't know much about history. I had had no idea that Trip knew about England's defeat of the Spanish Armada.

"How'd I know you were going to say that?" Trip asked.

"I think we're spending far too much time together," I said dryly. The panel popped off.

I felt a brief moment of dizziness. Then Trip's arm brushed me as he leaned in and activated the door.

"Now, if I had a chance to see the past, I'd jump at it."

The sense of dizziness turned into a sense of deja vu. This all seemed incredibly familiar. "I've always wanted to meet a stegosaurus," I said, even though I hadn't.

"He'd probably make a quick meal of you," Trip said. I had just been thinking that.

"The stegosaurus was an herbivore," I said.

There was a long pause.

"Okay, what just happened?" Trip asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know. I have a strong sense we've done this before, but how is that possible?"

"Maybe this ship is messing with our brain waves or something," Trip said doubtfully.

"We didn't find any abnormal radiation," I pointed out.

Trip scanned the ship, himself, then me. "We're fine," he said, perplexed. "The ship is insert. But—" His voice grew wistful. "I wish I had my favorite scanner back."

"It's mine now," I said.

"I had it programmed just the way I liked."

"It wouldn't help, Trip. Besides, it's not a medical scanner. Its capabilities are limited," I told him.

"My capacities are limited without my scanner." He looked at me thoughtfully. I saw the look in his eye. It was a challenge. I simply stared back at him, leaning against the ship, all too happy to play along.

He closed the gap between us. "Malcolm, darlin'—"

He kissed me, light, feathery kisses along the side of my face. I sighed with pleasure and turned my head so he could nuzzle my ear. He kissed it, then flicked his tongue inside. I felt the familiar anticipation growing deep inside of me, powerful and demanding, but that didn't prevent me from noticing his hand as it snaked into my pocket.

"Subtle, Commander, very subtle," I murmured as I grasped his wrist, stopping him. "It's my scanner now," I reiterated, speaking as if to a child.

He took my hand in his and lifted it above my head, pinning it against the ship. He moved slowly and deliberately, never taking his eyes from mine. I let him do the same with my other hand. His eyes grew dark. "Well, darlin', you just keep it. But I want *compensation*."

He was a quick study.

"All right, then." I insinuated a thigh between his and rocked. The motion stroked the length of his cock. He was already hard. For me. I wanted that cock, I decided, and not in my mouth this time, either.

"Would you like to fuck?" I asked.

"Right here?"

I nodded. "Right here."

Trip grinned, looking impossibly boyish and devious. "Okay." He frowned. "But we don't have—"

I pulled a small tube of hand cream from my pocket, as if I were pulling a rabbit from my hat. I felt brilliant. Prepared. I had been an Eagle Scout, after all. "I'll get the door," I told him.

I returned in an instant. I had a very strong feeling, just like the deja vu I'd experienced a moment ago but that had now passed, that we would be undisturbed. It was lunchtime, after all.

Trip unzipped my uniform. "Your ass is mine, baby."

"Baby?" I laughed incredulously as I helped push my uniform down around my ankles.

"Yeah. Baby." He kissed me, and when his tongue was done with me I decided that he could call me anything he bloody well pleased.

"Here." I squeezed the thick lotion onto his fingers and rubbed it around, coating them. We kissed again and he put his arms around my waist, under my shirt, then slipped my briefs down below my hips. His greased fingers were cool against my arse. I felt him brush the sensitive ridge of my opening, and I clenched reflexively.

"You going to let me in?" Trip whispered. He pulled my earlobe into his mouth and gave a long, sucking pull.

I relaxed. Trip pushed a finger inside me, and suddenly I wasn't aware of anything around me. The captain himself could have walked in and I wouldn't have noticed or cared. I moaned into Trip's mouth, holding him tightly against my body. My cock was pressed against the rough cloth of his uniform, and the pressure inside me increased as another finger found its way into me.

"Oh, this is so—oh, Trip," I said against his neck. I hung onto his shoulders, panting. It was all so marvelous—being right there in Launch Bay 2, my pants down, Trip's fingers up my arse. It was deliciously illicit. I loved the contrast of the proper Starfleet uniform and what was underneath. I took Trip's head in my hands and kissed him, biting his lip, then licking it. His fingers thrust into me, reaching deep inside, and the shock of pleasure raced through my body. I rubbed myself against him.

"Like that, huh?"

"Like you. Need you. Ready now," I informed him.

"Hold it, I'm not so sure—"

I reached behind me and held his wrist steady. I shoved my arse back against him. "Oh, yes." I fucked myself on his hand, and he got the message. I was ready. As soon as his hand left me, I unzipped his uniform and reached inside. He was ready too. Very ready. I smoothed the lotion onto his lovely, rock-hard cock as he shrugged the uniform off his shoulders. He turned me around. I set my hands on the salvaged spaceship, right on a little panel just to the left of the door proper. "Now," I reminded him.

Trip's body was warm against mine as he rubbed his slick cock against my lower back. "Fuck," he said. He put one arm around me. I felt him fumble.

"Yes," I said. "Now."

"No, I mean fuck."

I began laughing. It was a problem I had already foreseen. "You're too bloody tall, aren't you?"

"No, you're too goddamned short," he answered. "Wait. Oh, lord, don't you dare move." He slid a long, flat toolbox over to where I was standing, and I stepped up. It was perhaps ten centimeters in height, but it was all that was necessary.

"All right, you oversized Yank, is this better?" I asked.

"Oversized?" He put his arm around my waist again, steadying himself against me. "You flatter me, darlin'." I felt his thick, blunt cock push against my opening. With a deep breath, I focused on relaxing. The tip entered, and I moaned. He grunted slightly as he slid into me. I felt stretched tight and very full. He was invading my very soul, becoming a part of me. The sheer intensity of the sensation stunned me every time.

"Just the right size," I gasped.

He put both hands on my hips now and pushed harder. It burned, just a little, so perhaps he was correct after all, in that I could have used more preparation. But the burn felt good, as if I were giving something to him, something of myself.

"God, Malcolm," he said against my neck. "The way this feels—I can't believe we're doin' this right here—" I felt his huff of laughter. "I used to think you were so goddamned proper." He pulled out, and pushed back in just as slowly. "Now I know better."

He hung onto my hips and shoved against my arse over and over, his cock stroking deep inside of me, his balls slapping gently against my arse. I leaned my weight on my hands, so I could push back against him, so I could get him further inside of me—further inside than anyone had ever reached before. I was making a low, keening sound, the sort that might have embarrassed me with previous lovers, but this was Trip, and he would understand, because with him everything so easy and so right.

"Oh, darlin', oh, Malcolm—oh—" he gasped.

"Baby," I supplied, and I was rewarded by a breathless chuckle.

"Oh, baby."

We were both panting and laughing a little, because, after all, we were fucking in Launch Bay 2 like two reckless, horny schoolboys. "Let's—oh," I grunted, "let's christen Launch Bay 1 after this."

"Oh, yeah, let's do the whole damn ship—" His voice cracked, and I felt him trembling. His thrusting become erratic. The way he lost control when he was inside of me made me want him all the more—made me want to pleasure him until he couldn't hold back, until he climaxed, wet and hard, screaming my name. "Oh, Jesus, Malcolm," he said, breath moist on my ear, and I shut my eyes because the pleasure—his pleasure—our pleasure—was unbearable.

I needed to touch my own throbbing dick, but Trip's hand was there already, tugging and squeezing me. I wrapped my hand around his and pushed forward into it, then back onto his cock. It was so bloody wonderful I never wanted it to stop. The agonizing pleasure surged through me. I climaxed so fiercely my knees buckled, but Trip held me, pulled me up, crying out his own pleasure, plunging his cock into me as he came. I stumbled, fell forward, my arms slapping against the ship—

Trip's voice was teasing. "Oh, yeah, let's do the whole damn ship—" His voice cracked, and I felt him trembling. His thrusting became erratic. I was overwhelmed with the rightness of him inside me. It was as though we had done this thousands of times. It was as though it was the first time. He stroked me deep inside. I could feel every centimeter of him, long and strong, and I panted with joy.

I put my hand on my stomach just as Trip wrapped his hand around my throbbing cock, tugging and squeezing me. He knew just when I needed his touch. I pushed hard on my abdomen and pubic bone, and I thought I could feel him deep inside me, sending me to heights of pleasure I'd never experienced with any other person. I pushed forward into the circle of his fist, then back onto his cock, imagining the blunt tip of his cock brushing my hand. It was so bloody wonderful I never wanted it to stop. The almost agonizing pleasure surged through me. I climaxed so fiercely my knees buckled, but Trip held me, pulled me up, crying out his own pleasure, plunging his cock into me as he came. I stumbled, fell forward, my arms slapping against the ship—"Oh, yeah, let's do the whole damn ship—" Trip's arms tightened around me. "Oh, Malcolm, the way you make me feel—" he gasped. His voice cracked, and I felt him trembling. His thrusting become erratic. "I feel like I'm coming, but I haven't come. Oh, Jesus." He buried his face in my neck as he worked his cock in and out. "Malcolm," he said, and then, voice urgent, "Oh, fuck, I'm coming now." He slammed into me, and I knew I was going to come as well. I was incoherent with desire. I was only aware of how much I wanted him, of how much I needed him.

I reached a hand to my cock. His hand was there already, tugging on my dick, squeezing me. He knew, he always knew just when to touch me. I wrapped my hand around his and pushed forward into it, then back onto his cock. It was so bloody wonderful I never wanted it to stop. The almost agonizing pleasure surged through me, and Trip was right: it was like coming so continuously that I literally could not bear the pleasure. I climaxed so fiercely my knees buckled, but Trip held me, pulled me up, crying out his own pleasure, plunging his cock into me as he came. I stumbled, fell forward, my arms slapping against the ship—

"Oh, yeah, let's do the whole damn ship—" Trip's arms tightened around me. "Malcolm," he said, voice surprised. "Now. I'm coming now. Oh, god." He bit my neck, and I felt the force of his cock as his hips pushed forward. I was still supporting myself against the ship, so I shoved myself backward onto his cock as he shuddered and came. I rotated my arse, trying to stretch out his pleasure. I could feel my own orgasm, just out of reach. I was going to come. All I needed was—

I needed his hand there, and it was. I put my hand on his as I thrust into his fist. Trip groaned and took a step back, and suddenly I was falling off the toolbox, falling into Trip, falling into pleasure so exquisite that I couldn't breathe. The almost agonizing pleasure surged through me. I climaxed so fiercely that I couldn't tell where Trip ended and I began. We were one being, linked by touch and sensation and powerful desire.

When I became aware of myself again, we were lying on the floor, side by side. I was panting. I was vaguely aware that I had been screaming and sobbing. I had never come like that before. Trip was still inside me, but the heavy pressure and lessened: he was growing soft.

"Are you okay, Malcolm?" Trip asked, breathless.

"Oh, god," I whimpered. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I was shaking. My arse was raw.

Trip pulled out. He made a small noise. "I'm really sensitive," he said. "Jesus. What just happened?"

I rolled onto my back. "That was—that was transcendent," I said. I touched his face. Trip's short hair was dark with perspiration. I was overwhelmed. It was him. There was only him. "I need you to kiss me," I whispered, and he did. "You need to know," I said when he released my mouth. "Oh, please. You need to know." I found his lips again and wound my fingers in his wet hair.

"Malcolm," Trip said. "Darlin' Malcolm. It's okay." I shuddered, remembering my climax, and Trip stroked me gently, kissed me, and whispered soothing words. "You're amazing," he said, and "I need you," and "I'm so glad I found you."

"You need to know," I repeated. I hadn't wanted to tell him how I felt. I had thought it was too new, too fast—that I would frighten him. But he needed to know what I knew. He needed to know that he could touch so deep inside me that I lost myself in him. He needed to know that I didn't just want him, I needed him.

"It's okay, darlin'," Trip said, twining his fingers with mine. "I know." He gave me a final kiss. "My mother's going to be excited."

I put my hand on his chest before he could roll away. "Your mother?" I said.

"Isn't that what you want me to know?" he said. His eyes sparkled. He was teasing me. "I always tell my mother the important things in my life. When I get promoted. When I fall in love. Those kinds of things."

"Oh," I said.

"I'll have the captain take a picture of the two of us, so you can send one to your mother too," he said.

"That would be—that's most thoughtful of you," I said cautiously, trying to imagine my mother's reaction.

"I'm a thoughtful guy," Trip said. He stood up and pulled up his uniform. "I think lunch is over," he said.

I rolled onto my back and struggled into my uniform. "The organic circuits," I reminded him.

Trip sighed. "You distracted me. You have a way of doing that." He really didn't seem as if he minded terribly. He extended a hand and pulled me up. "Here." He handed me a tool and pointed at the ship. "That little panel by the door," he said. "Get to work."

"I'm not going to do it all myself without compensation," I said.

"Oh, you'll get compensation," Trip said darkly, but he joined me.

I set the tool against the left side of the panel and began to pry.

"See, it's not so hard," Trip told me as the panel popped off.

I felt a brief moment of dizziness. I smiled up at Trip as he reached out an arm to key the door to Launch Bay 2 open. I felt anticipation as I stepped into the room. A vista of possibility was just beyond that door. And somehow, I knew that Trip would always be there beside me.