Title: Fantasies on an Alien World
Author: kbk
Disclaimer: "Star Trek: Enterprise" and all characters are owned by and various other people and companies. Not me. I make no money from this.
Rating: NC-17, or maybe just R
Summary: Um. Well. I had my eyes closed while I wrote half of this. Het, slash (boy and girl). Masturbation. Combinations of T, Tu, R and S. Enjoy.

"Um... guys?" Hoshi pushed aside the curtain and popped her head into the small room. "I think I worked out the sleeping arrangements."

Malcolm looked up at her from where he sat cross-legged on the mattress that took up two-thirds of the room. "Do you think so?" he inquired with one raised eyebrow. She smirked back at him, then her face fell. She glanced over his shoulder at Commander Tucker, who was leaning against the side wall.

"I may have made a small mistake in the translation," she admitted. Both of the men looked at her expectantly. She sighed, and then stepped into the room, reflexively moving the curtain closed behind her.

"Remember how I said they wanted two pairs to visit, men and women? I, uh, think they meant couples." She winced – when the anticipated explosion of outrage didn't occur, she dared to look at the two men. They were both staring at her.

"You mean... like..." Trip's mouth hung a little open.

Hoshi blushed, nodded, and got out of the room as quickly as she could. The curtain was left swinging in her wake; her colleagues watched it with rapt attention.

Eventually, Trip dropped his head back to thump against the wall. "They think we're..."

Malcolm twisted his head to gaze at the other man. "Yes," he replied.

Trip stared at him, incredulous. "You don't... They think we're fucking!"

"I never took you for a bigot, Commander," Reed told him icily, dropping his gaze to the phase pistol in his hands. "Or is it just me you have a problem with?"

"I don't... it's..." Trip stuttered. "All I meant was that it's ridiculous."

"Of course," Reed replied, voice still a few shades chilly.

Trip waited a few moments before deciding to share his next thought. "Of course," he said with a salacious tinge to his voice, "this means they think the same about the girls."

Malcolm set the phaser down thoughtfully. "Yes," he murmured.

Trip sat forward a little. "You think they are?"

"I... doubt it," Malcolm said with half a smile in his voice. He leaned back onto his elbow to make it easier to see his companion. "Do you?"

"Nah. Not really. Just... if they were..." He gestured expansively, one hand landing on Malcolm's shoulder. They sat for a few long moments silently contemplating the mental images, then moved to prepare for bed.

It took some time, but soon enough they were settled under the blankets, carefully separated yet not retreating to the edges of the mattress.They lay still and silent for only a few moments before Trip opened his mouth again. "You think the girls are..."

Malcolm answered without looking at his companion. "Stripped down to their blues and settling in for the night? Yes."

"Yeah, but..." Trip gestured at the space between them, "like this or, y'know, a little closer?"

"Commander Tucker, I'm sure you're perfectly capable of constructing a lesbian fantasy without my help." Reed twisted a fraction further towards the wall and thumped his head definitively on his pillow.

"Jeez. What got up your butt?" the engineer grumbled as he settled himself into his own hollow in the bedding.

Reed didn't answer, "I wish you would," because it wasn't actually true. He generally preferred to be the one doing the fucking. He could almost see the broad sweep of back that would bow and flex before him. He would be close enough to rest his head on the soft blond down at the vulnerable nape of the neck that he saw so often. He was close enough, now, to hear the commander's breathing, to take in the masculine scent of him and imagine, just for a moment, that if he were to reach over and reach out they would roll together and become... something.

Malcolm very carefully refused to sigh when he realized he was hard. He could, of course, simply lie there and wait for his arousal to diminish – he could think of ways to improve the energy efficiency of the standard model phase pistol, though it probably wouldn't be wise to linger too long on the sleek form and inherent danger that the weapon already possessed. If he had been alone he could have done pushups until he exhausted himself and could drop easily into sleep, but there was barely enough clear floor in the room for that even if he hadn't been under observation – not, of course, that Trip would care what he did, but Reed did prefer not to seem more eccentric than was unavoidable, especially in the eyes of senior officers. That difference in rank was probably the prime reason that he did not simply reach out and try his luck – for all that Commander Tucker seemed an oblivious heterosexual, most people were open to new experiences when they realized they were on offer. Or he could relieve his tension in the traditional manner.

He listened intently – Trip's breathing was deep and steady, indicating that the man had slipped into sleep with ease, something that would usually have irritated Malcolm, but this time decided him. He shifted in the bed, making himself a little more comfortable and pulling down his boxers at the same time. He cradled his balls gently with one hand as he considered his options, deciding that it felt like a night for relaxation, a slow fantasy and a silent climax.

He could follow the script that Trip had been on the verge of laying out, a lesbian erotica featuring the two women who had shared the shuttle-ride down. He could imagine Hoshi stripping easily out of her regulation underwear and watching T'Pol do the same, stepping across the room to wrap her arms around the Vulcan's waist and nibble delicately on one pointed ear, sliding one hand up to cup one of those perfect breasts while the other arm held her superior captive. And then T'Pol, perhaps, breaking out of the hold and throwing Hoshi to the pile of bedding on the floor, pinning her to the bed with one hand holding her wrists above her head, the other parting her thighs, mouth descending on a perky nipple while Hoshi panted out her pleasure, T'Pol kneeling over her with that perfect arse in the air, just where somebody walking in through the curtain would see it, could reach out and fill his hands with it... but this was Commander Tucker's idea, so it would be his large hands that swept up T'Pol's back, him that covered Hoshi's mouth with his own, his cock sliding so sweetly along the cleft of that arse...

Malcolm stopped and thought. The fantasy had progressed rather more quickly than he had anticipated. Perhaps it was ambitious of him to try to construct a threesome when there was a living breathing temptation all of three feet away and to all intents and purposes in bed with him. But if he wasn't careful, he knew he ran the risk of being clouded by lust and confusing fantasy with reality – so there would be no reaching out under soft blankets on an alien world, surrounded by things that just didn't smell right, no building of lust in a vague attempt at finding something of home, something human. He would just have to dive straight in.

He would be safe enough, probably, imagining that his hands belonged to somebody else – and the Chief Engineer of the first starship in Earth's fleet had hands that were remarkably capable, broad and fair and strong. Those hands would curve around him in perfect confidence, one sliding between his thighs and undulating there while the other set up a slow motion on his cock, grip just a shade too loose for true satisfaction. He could almost hear Trip's quiet chuckle in his ear as his hips bucked slightly in frustration, and it sounded so right that he paused to check that his bedmate was still sleeping soundly, halfway across the room.

Assured, he continued with his stroking, removing the hand that had been between his thighs to tease the head of his cock, imagining a soft drawl in his ear telling him that yes, this was good, this was how Trip liked it sometimes, never quite reaching enough but warm and arousing and good all the same. That voice could be so warm, like velvet rubbed the wrong way up his spine, rough softness wrapped around his balls and his cock and pushing him just a little closer, voice in his ear, so close, breaths sighing across his skin, down his neck, and that drawl in his ear telling him just to relax and let go as those hands hit his sweet spots and squeezed a little harder, stroked a little faster and gave him just enough that he could come, a warm wash over his hand and a languid ease settling through him.

And then it was just Malcolm in a room with a colleague, wiping the stickiness off on his boxers and wishing for a damp cloth instead.

And Trip lay in the dark, listening to his friend's breaths in the quiet night as they slowed and calmed, and determinedly didn't think about the way the erotic hitch in those breaths that he had heard seemed to be scribed onto his inner ear.

And in another room, virtually identical to that one, the ensign and the sub-commander lay peacefully asleep.