Gigi Sinclair

"God, what a night." Malcolm collapsed onto his lover's bed and unlaced his boots.

"Yeah," Trip agreed. "I gotta say, I think the party peaked when the Captain and T'Pol sung 'I Got You Babe.'"

Malcolm had been amazed at that one, too. "I wouldn't have thought karaoke was a logical way to pass an evening."

"I think we're a bad influence on her."

"Speak for yourself. I find karaoke illogical as well." Malcolm leaned in happily as Trip sat beside him, unzipping his own uniform.

"Yeah, well you sure enjoyed the cocktails. Don't think I didn't see you and Hoshi knocking 'em back like a coupla drunken sailors."

"A gentleman doesn't let a lady drink alone on her birthday," Malcolm informed him haughtily. "Besides, I only like them for the pineapple slices. And the little cocktail swords." He removed a handful of the plastic swords from his uniform pocket and put them on Trip's bedside table.

"Very noble, Malcolm." Trip was down to his blue undershirt. When that, too, hit the floor, Malcolm decided it was time to join him.

"What are we doing for your birthday?" With deft precision, he removed his uniform and lay beside Trip, who moved his head onto Malcolm's chest.

"Dunno, darlin'. I was thinking about gettin' a few strippers in, maybe one of them erotic cakes…"

"Damn." Malcolm smiled. "You ruined my surprise." Trip's laugh trailed off, prompting Malcolm to ask: "What's wrong?"

"Just thinkin'. I can't believe Hoshi's twenty-seven." "Still younger than me," Malcolm observed.

"Yeah, but I didn't know you when you were a geeky teenager. Makes me feel goddamn ancient."

"I was never a geeky teenager." This time, Trip's laugh went on a lot longer. Too long for Malcolm, who gave an irritable sniff. "Something amusing, Commander?"

"Just you, darlin'. I can picture you holed up in your room with your Battlestar Galactica posters and your scale-model phase cannons. Did you have braces?"

"I'm from England, Trip," Malcolm said, before realizing that was tantamount to admitting to the posters and the models. "Anyway," he corrected sulkily, "It was Dr. Who."

"Yeah? Which one?" Trip looked up with interest. "Tom Baker? Peter Davison?"

"Robbie Williams," Malcolm admitted. This time, he decided to take advantage of Trip's giggles to gain the upper hand.

He rolled over on top of his lover, running his tongue around Trip's ear. It had the intended effect. Trip wasn't laughing anymore. Although he did make a strangled noise when Malcolm bit his earlobe. "Keep that up, and I won't tell you about my first time."

"What?"

"I may have been a geeky teenager, but that doesn't mean I never got any." Before Trip, Malcolm would never have spoken like that to anyone. Even with Trip, he'd been shy at first, until he'd realized that the dirtier he talked, the more Trip reacted. And Trip's reactions were worth any amount of residual awkwardness.

"Jesus, Malcolm." Trip's tone had gone from teasing to turned-on. Malcolm loved it, and he loved that he was the one who could make Trip change like that. "Talk to me."

Malcolm swallowed and kissed Trip quickly, before he could lose his nerve. "When I was seventeen, I was in the naval cadets."

"Right." Trip broke off the second kiss and nuzzled Malcolm's neck, leaving Malcolm's mouth free to continue the story.

Theoretically, anyway. Malcolm gasped as Trip's teeth grazed his shoulder. He didn't actually say anything until Trip prompted: "So?"

"So there was this…officer. David. Blond, gorgeous, twenty-one years old."

"Oh yeah?" Malcolm felt Trip smile. That, along with the growing erection he felt against his stomach, encouraged Malcolm to continue.

"We…we were doing manoeuvres on the North Sea. You know me and water. It…It got kind of rough, and I couldn't handle it. I had to go below decks."

"God." Trip half-gasped, half-sighed, his hands running down Malcolm's now-sweaty back. "That musta been embarrassing."

"Mm-hm." Malcolm couldn't wait anymore. Entirely of its own accord, his mouth went to Trip, licking at his lips, kissing his cheeks, running his tongue down Trip's neck. Trip seemed to be enjoying it. At least, Malcolm was under that impression, until two firm hands gripped his shoulders and Trip pushed him away. "Wha?" Trip's eyes were wide and dazed, but, unlike Malcolm, he still managed to string together a coherent sentence.

"You gotta finish the story, Malcolm."

"It's done." Propping his arms on either side of Trip's head, Malcolm leaned in for another kiss. And was blocked.

"I want to hear." Trip seemed perilously close to panting. "Come on, darlin'. You gotta tell me. How'd you lose it?" Malcolm growled with frustration, which had the very frustrating effect of making Trip even more eager. "Please, Malcolm. Darlin'." He blinked winsomely.

Trust bloody Trip to want to talk at a bloody time like this. Fine, Malcolm decided, gritting his teeth. "David came down and put his dick up my arse. That's it."

Trip laughed. While usually this was a good thing, it wasn't particularly what Malcolm had wanted to hear in the throes of passionate lovemaking.

"I think you need some practice with the dirty stories, Malcolm."

"I'm a little distracted at the moment."

"That so?" Malcolm licked Trip's chest in response. Trip laughed again. "Well, then, darlin', you take care of the distractions and I'll show you the James Joyce of dirty stories." James Joyce was pretty dirty in and of himself, but Malcolm decided to keep that quiet for the time being. Instead, he obligingly continued his trail downward as Trip leaned back on his pillow.

"Want to hear about my twenty-first birthday?"

Malcolm lifted his mouth long enough to say: "No." He was ignored.

"Me and some buddies went to Vegas for the weekend. You know me, we hadn't been there five minutes and I had a drink in one hand and a waitress in the other." Malcolm reached Trip's belly button, which he licked thoroughly. Malcolm didn't particularly enjoy it when Trip did that to him, but he had quickly learned it was one of Trip's favourite acts. Although not his absolute favourite. "Anyway," Trip continued, once he'd finished moaning, "My buddies took off somewhere, and I ended up at the blackjack table. I thought it was one of them tourist tables, at first, but then I looked around and saw everyone else was dressed up real fancy."

"And I suppose you were wearing a tasteful Hawaiian shirt." With a final kiss to the navel, Malcolm moved even further down.

"Damn straight. A real nice one, too, with big flowers and toucans. Shit, Malcolm!" Deciding not to wait any longer, Malcolm put his tongue directly on Trip's penis. And got a very interesting reaction.

A reaction that wasn't enough to stop Trip. "Anyway," he continued stolidly, "I looked around and I figured this was a high-roller table. Lots of really rich guys betting gold jewellery and big piles of chips. Like something outta a Kenny Rogers vid-disc."

"Who?"

"Get back to work, Malcolm." Trip ran a hand through Malcolm's hair and panted a little. "Anyway, there was this one guy I could tell had to be at least a billionaire. He had diamond cufflinks the size of eyeballs. I watched a couple of hands, though, and I could see he wasn't that great a player."

Malcolm kissed down one side of Trip's penis and back up the other. Trip squirmed on the mattress but continued relentlessly. "I was pretty drunk, so I thought I'd take him on. I put in my chips and got my hand. He was showing a three, I had a nine and a six. I told the dealer to hit me and I got a five." Malcolm glanced up to see Trip's eyes squeezed shut, sweat running down his face, but still, he talked. You had to admire him, Malcolm decided. But not too much. "I figured that had to be a winner, so when the guy asked if I wanted to make a special, extra bet, I said yes."

"Brilliant," Malcolm commented, swiping his tongue around Trip's balls. Trip breathed heavily and, Malcolm was gratified to notice, it was nearly a minute before he composed himself enough to carry on.

"He bet his summer villa in Tuscany. Remember, I'd seen him play before, and he wasn't that great. So I was feelin' pretty good, but, of course, I didn't have anything like that to bet. So I asked him what he wanted." Malcolm moaned, thoroughly getting into his task. Obviously a little too into it, since Trip asked: "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, yes. Billionaire, house in Tuscany. Get on with it."

"How'd you know, that's just what the dealer said."

"Trip…" Malcolm took his mouth entirely off Trip.

"OK, OK." Trip gently pushed Malcolm back into place. "The guy said he thought I was pretty hot, and if I wanted, I could bet myself. Well, like I said, I thought my chances were pretty good. And I've always wanted to go to Italy. So I took the bet and showed my hand. Then I waited for him to turn over his cards. Three." Malcolm sucked the tip of Trip's dick. "Eight." Malcolm took in another inch. "King." Malcolm slid up until as much of Trip as possible was in his mouth. Then he started to move.

"Jesus." Trip moaned. "God, Malcolm." With a loud pop, Malcolm removed himself yet again. Trip practically sobbed. Well, Malcolm thought, he was the one who'd wanted to talk.

"Let me guess. He took you back to his high roller suite and had his wicked way with you."

"Yeah. We went upstairs and he put his dick up my ass."

"I see." Malcolm licked his lips. "Care to re-enact it?"

"God, yes." Trip looked beautiful like that, Malcolm decided, his chest heaving, biting his lip. "You be David."

***

"Malcolm?" From a million miles away, Malcolm heard Trip's voice whispering at him. "You awake?"

"Mm." Malcolm snuggled in closer to his sweaty side, hoping that would discourage Trip from continuing. He'd had enough talking for one night.

"I gotta tell you somethin', Malcolm. About that story."

"What?"

"I was kinda…kiddin'."

"Kidding?"

"Yeah." He sounded sheepish. "I made it up."

"You don't say."

"I did go to Vegas for my twenty-first birthday, though," Trip assured him, although Malcolm had no idea why. It wasn't like he cared. "Well, Reno. Me and some buddies went to a comic book convention. They made me do twenty-one blowjobs in the hotel bar."

"What?" Malcolm's eyes snapped open.

"Kahlua and whipped cream. I spent the night pukin' my guts out. I'm real sorry, Malcolm. I just wanted a sexy story for ya." He sounded so apologetic that Malcolm sighed and admitted:

"I was joking, too, Trip."

"Oh, yeah?" Malcolm could hear him smiling. "No David?"

"There was a David. Just no sex. Not until I was quite a bit older." There was a pause and, for one brief deluded moment, Malcolm thought Trip had gone to sleep. He was nearly there himself when Trip shifted.

"Malcolm?"

"Trip, I'm very tired…"

"I know. Just…how much older?"

"Twenty-one."

"Really?"

"And twenty-eight months." There was a pause while the chief engineer did the math.

"Jesus, Malcolm, you had your first time when you were twenty-three?" Suddenly, Malcolm was awake. That, he told himself firmly, was why he never let his guard down. No one knew about that, not even the man-kid, really-who had finally dispatched with his virginity. He hadn't kept it through any kind of moral or religious philosophy, there just hadn't been anyone Malcolm could stand to have that close to him, emotionally or physically. He settled for meaningless sex eventually, not feeling anything but disappointment when he finally gave in to some guy he met in a bar. Emotion, let alone love, had never entered into it, not until Trip came along. And now he might have lost him.

As always, Malcolm covered up fear with bravado. "Do you have a problem with that, Commander?"

"No!" Trip answered just quickly enough to keep Malcolm from beating a hasty retreat. "I'm just kinda…nervous, that's all."

Malcolm sighed, although not with relief. Not yet. "I haven't been twenty-three for quite a few years, Trip."

"I know, but…we gotta lotta catchin' up to do. And I gotta make sure we do it right."

Malcolm smiled. "You up to the challenge?"

"Not right now, darlin'."

"I meant overall."

"Sure. I mean, yeah, Malcolm. Definitely. It's you."

Malcolm's smile grew. He couldn't help himself. "Good night, Trip."

Trip snuggled in. "Night, darlin'."

The last thing Malcolm heard as he fell asleep was the sound of Trip quietly humming 'I Got You Babe.' Which he stopped when Malcolm gave him a sharp jab to the ribs.