Malcolm yawned and stretched. His body ached, in a satisfied manner. Looking up, he saw a naked, disheveled man gazing bemusedly back down at him. Malcolm smiled. The dark-haired man smiled back at him. Next to the smiling man was another man, sprawled on his back, sleeping peacefully, chest rising and falling in a soothing, hypnotic rhythm.

Such a pity to wake him, Malcolm thought. But then he nuzzled Trip's shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin. "Awake, love?" Malcolm asked softly, even though it was obvious the man was not.

"Mmmph," came the muttered reply.

"Darling? Sweetheart?" Malcolm kissed Trip's arm, his lips teasing the golden skin. Looking across the room now, gazing at the wall, he saw himself propped up on an elbow, as he leaned over his lover's reclined body. Trip was just as lovely from this perspective, he thought, what with the way the man was lying there, the incredibly soft, cream-colored sheet draped partially over his body, his chest and shoulders exposed, one arm flung over his head. Malcolm was certain he'd be beautiful from every point of view.

But far too covered up. Malcolm drew the sheet away, slowly unveiling Trip's body. He admired the reflection in the ceiling as first Trip's stomach, then slender hips became visible. Malcolm could make out the faint outlines of Trip's ribs, just under the taut skin. His eyes followed the slope from his ribs to the flatness of his belly, marked by the dark smudge of hair running down the center. Flat belly, slender waist; but Malcolm knew of the strength there, could feel iron-hard muscle against his thighs when he wrapped his legs around Trip's waist. And below that waist, to either side were the shadowed hollows, where the skin dipped in just before his hipbones. The space where Malcolm's fingers fit so perfectly. Another gentle tug on the sheet and the line of hair led to the dark patch of curls between Trip's legs, where Malcolm could see Trip's soft, quiescent penis, nestled against his sacs.

Malcolm was constantly fascinated by Trip's body, by all that hair, by all those planes and angles. All hard muscle and bone, so unlike any of his previous lovers. A term, which in Malcolm's past, had been reserved solely for women.

Trip stirred. "Malcolm," he complained, shifting, hand grasping aimlessly for the removed covering. Then the man sighed and was quiet again.

Undeterred, Malcolm removed the sheet entirely, off those lean thighs covered with golden fur, knobby knees, sharp shins, and broad sturdy feet. He gazed up at the ceiling again, taking in Trip's nude body, his own pale form curled next to him.

"Trip?" he whispered, pressing his lips to his lover's chest, just below a nipple. He liked the brush of Trip's chest hair against his nose, he thought, as he placed gentle kisses along the nicely sculpted muscle. Then he kissed a dark nipple. Trip grunted, shifted again. Malcolm touched the soft, relaxed nipple with his tongue, tasting the salt and sweat, sweat from their most recent bout of lovemaking. His mouth drifted, kissing the skin beside it, his lips skimming along the flatness. No soft, fleshy curve of breast here, he thought. Just hard, flat muscle. And hair. Malcolm's skin recalled the sensation of having that flat chest pressed against his own back, the feeling of hair and muscle crushed against his skin as Trip panted wildly in his ear.

He continued kissing Trip's chest, following the line of hair down the center. Trip breathed in sharply, his chest rising and falling. He was quiet again when Malcolm reached his navel. Malcolm licked all around it, silky skin against his tongue, solid muscle lying directly underneath. Solid, twitching muscle, Malcolm noted. Pleased, he dipped his tongue into the hollow navel, and was rewarded with an erotic, sleepy moan of pleasure.

Malcolm was determined to discover what pleased his partner the most. It was a challenge. Trip responded to everything he did with boundless enthusiasm. It didn't seem to matter where or how Malcolm touched him, whether he was gentle and tender, or rough and hungry—Trip would just gasp with delight and respond in kind. And when it came to sex itself, to getting off, it didn't seem to matter if Malcolm used his hands or his mouth. Whether he penetrated Trip or offered his own ass up to be penetrated. Each approach produced spectacular results. Malcolm had begun to wonder if there was anything Trip *didn't* like.

Malcolm swirled his tongue over Trip's navel again, and Trip moved his hips, stomach muscles rolling. More kisses, and then Malcolm was sliding his tongue over a hipbone, then further down, to the crease of Trip's thigh. Trip let out a soft, wordless cry. Malcolm raised his head, glancing over at their reflection on the mirrored wall, meeting Trip's heavy-lidded eyes. Trip had awakened, at least partially, and had been watching.

Trip licked his lips. "Malcolm," he said, his voice thick with sleep.

One last kiss to Trip's thigh and Malcolm moved up to stretched out alongside Trip's body. "What?" Malcolm asked innocently, kissing his lover's cheek. "See, you're awake."

Trip merely shook his head, closing his eyes. "Nope."

"Come on, love," Malcolm said encouragingly, nudging Trip's face with his nose. "One more time."

Trip only groaned and rolled onto his stomach.

"I'll take that as an invitation," Malcolm purred, cupping Trip's ass, sliding his thumb down the center. Hunger stirred deep within as he gazed at the lovely ass.

Trip groaned again. "It's just kind of weird. Like havin' an audience," Trip said into the pillow.

"But it's only us." Malcolm continued his caress, his hand gliding lightly to cup Trip's balls, then circling back up first one cheek, then the other, in a slow, mesmerizing stroke. "And we look so bloody good together." He watched the play of muscles as the man stretched languorously, shoulder muscles tensing and rippling, arms flexing as he reached far in front of his head.

"You're killin' me here, darlin'," Trip moaned. "Just let me sleep a little longer. Or eat. When did we last eat?"

"Hmm?" Malcolm was fingering Trip's sacs, toying with one, then the other, fascinated as Trip spread his legs for him. So vulnerable, so defenseless. "We'll eat later. I promise. They have room service, you know."

Trip asked, "How much later?"

"Later." Malcolm kissed his shoulder, his ear, his cheek. "Much later."

"Mmm." Trip turned his head, his lips seeking Malcolm's.

Malcolm was certain he could still taste his come in Trip's mouth, and the thought made him grow harder. He wriggled up against Trip's body, wanting him, needing him.

"You know, Malcolm, " Trip murmured, "Here we are on this nice planet. Hoshi and T'Pol are visiting that art museum, checking out the—what was it—Aural Exhibit."

"So they are." Malcolm mused, nuzzling Trip's neck, his hand finding its way back to Trip's ass. "You have the most perfect ass I've ever seen, did you know that?" He decided that such a lovely ass deserved to be kissed. Among other things.

Trip continued, "The captain and Travis are out there climbing some mountain. Hess and Rostov are visiting the Museum of Industry—oh—."

Malcolm licked him again, from his balls up through the cleft of his ass, then paused. "Yes, and your point is?" he inquired.

"Point is, uh," Trip seemed to lose track of his point as Malcolm's tongue investigated further, but then recouped and continued. "Point is, we're gonna be all together on the shuttle ridin' back up to Enterprise, and when everyone's sharin' their stories of what they did on shore leave, ah—"

Malcolm's greased index finger disappeared deep inside of his lover. "Do go on," he said, working a second finger into that tight, hot little hole. His own cock ached to be inside.

"I'll have to tell them—oh, goddamn that's good—I'll gonna be tellin' them," Trip gasped. "You dragged me off to a place with mirrors on the walls and ceilings and with heart-shaped tubs and we spent the entire time fuck—oh—more—", he finished, his voice breathy.

"Making love?" Malcolm prodded, twisting his fingers.

Trip clutched the sheets, burying his face as he groaned. Then, raising his head, he blurted out, "Makin' love."

Malcolm nodded, pleased that Trip had labeled the act properly. He noticed, too that Trip turned to look at the mirror again, and was watching Malcolm's fingers as they dipped into his ass. Malcolm slid his fingers in deep this time, searching, reaching for that spot in that hot, slick channel. He knew he had found it when Trip jerked and yelped.

"God, Malcolm, please," Trip begged. He turned to Malcolm, grabbing his head, pulling him down and kissing him. Malcolm returned the kiss hungrily, sliding his fingers out of Trip's body, catching Trip's moan of dismay in his mouth.

"Are we ready now?" Malcolm asked. He was. It seemed as though he was constantly ready.

"Oh yeah. Ready. Very ready."

Malcolm crawled into position between Trip's legs. He splashed oil onto his penis, not caring that it ran down his thighs, staining the pale, silky sheets. Trip was tucking his legs under, raising his backside for Malcolm's use. The simple gesture, the offering up for this most intimate act astounded Malcolm each and every time. Malcolm put a hand over his lover's hipbone, fingertips in that little hollow, and with the other hand guided his cock inside of Trip, slipping inside of him, diving in deep, encountering no resistance, no tight muscles, just intense, slick heat.

Trip twisted around, watching Malcolm in the mirror, watching as Malcolm penetrated him. "Damn," he gasped. "Ain't that something."

Malcolm watched, too, watched as his dick disappeared between the lovely rounded cheeks. Into Trip's body. A man's body. Amazing to think that such a strong, powerful man would let Malcolm push his dick up his ass. He could see Trip's muscles flex and roll beneath his skin as Malcolm invaded him, becoming part of Trip's body.

He sat back, arms around Trip's waist, until Trip was in his lap. "Look," he said, gently tilting Trip's head up, kissing his neck. "Look at how beautiful we are together." He gazed up at the ceiling, seeing their bodies clinging together, seeing Trip's head resting on his shoulder, sleepy blue eyes watching both of them.

"It's just kind of strange," Trip said, but he still watched, rubbing his cheek against Malcolm's. "I didn't know I look like that—so—I don't know—"

"Incredibly sexy?" Malcolm finished for him.

"I was going to say 'hairy'."

Malcolm nodded. "Sexy."

"If you say so." He closed his eyes, leaning his head against Malcolm's. "Mmm. This is nice." He leaned back, relaxing against Malcolm.

"So what are we going to say when asked what we did during our 48 hours of leave?" Malcolm inquired, wrapping his arms around Trip, hugging him close, feeling the delicious heat and pressure on his dick.

"Mmm, how 'bout that we watched ourselves screw each other silly?"

"Oh? Speak for yourself, I am not, and never will be, silly," Malcolm pointed out. "You, on the other hand—ah—" he gasped as Trip tightened his muscles in response. "All right then," Malcolm gasped. He leaned forward, maneuvering Trip into position in front of him.

Trip chuckled, a rich, throaty sound as he went down on his knees, then shoved his ass back against Malcolm. Malcolm thrust into him, shifting around on his knees to find just the right position.

Then Malcolm watched. Watched in the mirror as his glistening cock slowly disappeared into Trip's ass, then drew out again. Watched, fascinated, as his body flowed forward and back with one smooth fluid motion. Good lord, they looked splendid together, Trip's head hanging down, back arched, body rocking counter to Malcolm's. Malcolm placed his hands on those slender, strong hips, splaying his fingers, holding on tight. It was all they were, the glide of his cock, sheathed in his lover, the sheer pleasure of it all growing deep inside of him, making his balls ache, his gut twist.

So he watched, but after a while Malcolm realized it wasn't enough, something was missing. He couldn't see Trip's face. Malcolm needed to see it, needed to watch that expressive face as Malcolm loved him.

"Trip, love—" he breathed, patting Trip's back. "Turn over—"

"Huh?"

Malcolm pulled back, out of Trip's body, and grabbed a nearby pillow. "Come on, now, on your back," he instructed.

Trip gazed at him, befuddled. "I was just gettin' into it," he complained. But turned over, sighing as he lifted his ass for Malcolm to slide a pillow beneath.

Malcolm fumbled with his own dick as Trip's legs wound around his waist. Malcolm pushed against the warm, slick flesh, finding Trip's anus, open and inviting. "Yes," he sighed as the warm, wet flesh engulfed him. Trip's legs clamped around him tightly, and he was trapped, wonderfully trapped.

Hooking his arms under Trip's knees, Malcolm tilted his head back, gazing up and groaning at the sight. The two of them, joined at the hip, literally. Trip's eyes were closed, a blissful expression on his face, his head resting in the crook of one arm, a hand cradling his own cock, not stroking or squeezing—just holding it. And below that, in the midst of a wild fuzz of hair, Malcolm could see the only base of his own cock, the rest of it hidden deep in Trip's body.

"Oh," he sighed, watching himself as he spoke, his mouth opening and closing. So beautiful. So much flesh, so much skin. He rolled his hips away from Trip, seeing his cock emerge, slowly, centimeter by centimeter, stopping only when the head of it was caught by the ring of muscle. Trip squirmed, his fingers tightening on his cock, a soft whimper escaping from his lips.

Malcolm waited, trembling, before sinking deep inside once again. "Oh darlin'," Trip breathed, eyes still closed, mouth curving into a sweet smile.

And Malcolm was lost. Lost in that smile, that whispered endearment. Despite the mirrors, despite the bird's eye view of their naked, joined bodies, it was that face that excited Malcolm the most. Seeing Trip's pleasure reflected so brilliantly, the pleasure that Malcolm gave him, whether it was by touching him, by sucking on him, by penetrating him, whether he was rough and hungry, whether he moved lazy and slow.

And right now it was lazy, it was slow, an easy glide in and out of Trip's body, giving a little push at the deepest point, just so he could hear that small gasp each time. Trip's legs gradually went slack around him, oozing down, Malcolm releasing his grip as they splayed out.

He never took his eyes off of Trip's face, watching as Trip grimaced slightly, biting his lower lip, brows coming together, then relaxing. Eyes opening, catching Malcolm, drawing him. Mouth opening, lips moving. "Slower," Trip whispered.

Malcolm obeyed, moving with agonizing slowness, quivering with the strain of it. Heart pounding, drawing out the moment as Trip writhed beneath him. Trip groaned, reached for his own legs, holding them apart, opening wide, displaying admirable flexibility. Malcolm moved slower still. He buried himself as deeply as possible, balls deep, his body up against Trip's. With a grinding, corkscrew motion he slowly circled his hips, watching Trip pant, mouth hanging open now, eyes wide.

"That's it, love," he whispered. He wanted to see if he could do it, make Trip come without touching his cock, by just touching him on the inside.

"Malcolm—Malcolm—holy shit—" Sweat running down his face now, body tensing, muscles standing out in sharp cords on his neck. "I'm—I'm—"

Malcolm held tight to the sweaty, slick thighs, forcing himself deeper inside Trip, trying to ignore the fierce pleasure stabbing through his own body. It was so bloody good. "Yes, oh yes, feel it—"

"I—I feel it. Oh god—"

Barely a whisper, but Malcolm heard it, then saw it, saw Trip screw his eyes tightly shut, felt it, felt Trip's body shake, then convulse powerfully sharply as Trip climaxed. Malcolm caught a glimpse of the marvelous sight of Trip's cock erupting over Trip's stomach, striping it with come, and then Malcolm's control slipped away, the exquisite sensations swallowing him up, and he came, hard, pumping his seed into Trip's body in long, hard spurts.

When it was all over Malcolm slumped down on top of Trip, legs aching, cock throbbing, head spinning. It was good, so good. Maybe the best yet, he thought.

After a time, Trip spoke. "Damn," he said, sounding somewhat dazed. "You're gettin' good at this, darlin'. Real good."

Malcolm found his voice. "Practice," he said, "makes perfect." He rode the wave of laughter from Trip's body, laughing a little himself. He opened his eyes and laughed again when he saw their reflections, the way they had melted together, arms and legs jumbled together as if they were one being. He nestled further into Trip's chest, eyes closing.

"Hey now," Trip growled. "You promised to feed me. An' it's your turn to call room service."

Malcolm roused himself. Food. Drinks. Trip. Bathtub.

He opened his eyes and raised his head. "Trip, love—I have a splendid idea—"