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“Isn’t this nice, Malcolm?” Trip grinned from ear to ear, throwing his arms out at either side. “Taking a break from everything every once in a while. Especially after everything we’ve been through. I’d say we deserve it, don’t you?”
Malcolm only nodded vaguely. Truthfully, he’d felt agitated ever since they stepped foot on this planet. It was objectively a beautiful place—earth-like, with a rich atmosphere and a diverse plant and wildlife. He couldn’t blame Captain Archer for deciding to stop for a few days for shore leave, nor could he blame Trip for wanting to enjoy himself. It was as the engineer said: they deserved it.
But Malcolm just couldn’t bring himself to unwind. Recent events were still fresh in his memory, keeping him awake at night and tainting his time with Jonathan. It tainted his time with anyone, really. He could see the glances they threw at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. Hoshi, Travis, people from his own team. Trip, at least, could stand to be in the same room as him, but Trip had his own stuff to deal with now as well. Strangely, Malcolm felt more alone than ever.
“Malcolm.”
Malcolm jerked himself out of his thoughts and turned to face Trip. “Hm?”
“I was asking if you wanted to take a swim with me.” Trip stabbed his thumb over to his shoulder towards a relatively inviting looking pond of crystal blue water. He raised his eyebrows. “I know you probably didn’t bring a swimsuit on board, but hey, we can just go in our blues, right?”
“Er, no thanks,” Malcolm said.
Trip shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And then even Trip was leaving him—and Malcolm cursed himself for being so melodramatic. The man was going for a bloody swim! There was no metaphorical meaning behind Trip walking away from him. Besides, Malcolm was the one who had declined the offer, preferring to avoid large bodies of water as much as he could.
Still, he watched as Trip stripped off his uniform until he was in his underclothes and wade into the water. He took a deep breath and plunged downwards, coming back up with a shiver and an exclamation of, “Christ, that’s cold!”
Malcolm chuckled softly to himself.
“Not joining him?” a low voice rumbled behind him. Captain Archer—Jonathan, Malcolm reminded himself; they were on shore leave—was standing behind him.
“No, sir,” Malcolm said.
“I’m surprised Trip didn’t drag you into the water anyway.” Archer smiled, and Malcolm couldn’t help but notice it was slightly strained. “Well, if you’re not going for a swim, maybe you wouldn’t mind helping me set up the tents. I’m afraid I’ve been ditched.”
“Not a problem, sir.” Malcolm nodded.
Together, they headed over to base camp, where the supplies were strewn about haphazardly. Clearly, the landing party with the supplies had been more interested in exploring than getting everything sorted.
Malcolm picked up one of the tents with a low huff and shook his head. “I can’t believe the carelessness…”
“They were just eager, Malcolm.” Jon’s voice was mildly defensive. “No need to get upset.”
“And it’s just lying here? Animals could have come by and dragged anything off.” Malcolm withdrew some tent poles and hastily began putting them together.
Jon looked up. “Are you alright, Malcolm?”
“Sir?”
“You seem a bit… tense.”
Malcolm considered. He did feel tense, and more than a little irritated. “I’m fine, sir.”
Jon’s eyebrows went up. “No need for the ‘sir’ here, Mal. It’s just us. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Well… ever since we’ve got here, I’ve been on edge,” Malcolm admitted.
“Probably just from being on a new world.” Jonathan resumed pitching another tent. “I know you get a little paranoid on any new adventure.”
Malcolm pursed his lips to prevent some uncharitable choice words from escaping. “Perhaps,” he said. Inside, he was wondering if that’s what Jon really thought of him. Paranoid. As if it wasn’t Malcolm in charge of keeping everyone safe, and perhaps paranoia was justified considering their past ‘adventures’. He held his tongue, though, and instead went back to setting up camp.
In just a few minutes they had the skeletons of every tent set up, and left them to self-inflate. Jon stepped over a bag of supplies. “Maybe you’d like to go on a walk with me,” he offered. “T’Pol’s scans were all well and good, but this is a beautiful planet.”
“Actually, I was going to survey the shore leave teams, make sure everything is-”
Jonathan broke into chuckles, shaking his head. “Come on. A quick walk won’t do any harm.”
Malcolm sucked on his cheek. “Very well.” He just barely restrained himself from adding the ‘sir’.
It was almost like being back on Earth. The smell of the dirt, the crunching of dry leaves beneath his boots, the sound of far-away animals scurrying along the ground. But one could never be too careful.
“Put the scanner away, Malcolm.” Jon’s voice was stern, like a teacher scolding a misbehaving child.
Sheepishly, Malcolm placed it in his pocket. “Sorry.”
“We’re here to relax, Malcolm. Ever heard of the word?”
“I can relax. You know that.”
Jonathan ducked his head and smiled a little. “Yes, well. I mean on shore leave. Not everything is out to get us.”
“You never know, sir.”
Jonathan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “No ‘sir’, remember?”
“Sorry.” Malcolm kept his gaze staunchly forward at the makeshift path they were walking along. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”
“That’s the beauty of exploration, Malcolm.” Jonathan pushed back a branch and held it for Malcolm to pass. “We’re going where no one has gone before.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll find our way back. Or don’t you trust me?” There was a hint of something behind those last words, it was gone before Malcolm could decipher it.
“I trust you, sir,” he said quickly, almost automatically. “With my life.”
Jonathan only sighed and said nothing.
They walked in silence for a long while, until they reached a babbling little creek that cut through the forest. Something frog-like skittered across Malcolm’s shoe.
Jonathan knelt down and dipped his fingers in the water. “When I was a kid, my friend had a place like this behind his house,” he said. “We built a treehouse once. Played it in every day, until he moved away.”
It was common for Jonathan to share little pieces of his life at random like this. Malcolm adored that about him. It had become less frequent recently, a result of their drifting after Malcolm’s betrayal, and he hoped this was the first step in Jonathan’s attempt at healing.
But a part of him… a part of him felt it was too late. Weeks had passed since then and things had grown stiff, stale between them.
And yet another part of him wondered if Jonathan had anything to apologise for. After all, it was Malcolm who had messed up. Malcolm who had taken Jonathan’s trust and stomped all over it. Jonathan hadn’t needed to take him back, but he did.
Damn, thinking about it was making him even more agitated for whatever reason. Malcolm decided to stop thinking about it for now.
Jonathan stood up again and looked up at the sky. “We should head back.”
“Lead the way.” Malcolm swept his hand out in a gesture that was perhaps a tad overexaggerated. Jon gave him a funny look.
By the time they reached camp, Hoshi and Chef had gotten dinner running and the crew who were on shore leave—a total of eighteen excluding Malcolm and Jon—were all sitting around chatting and eating.
“Better get it before it’s all gone,” Hoshi called to the two men emerging from the forest.
“And it might be gone soon,” Trip added, scooping another spoonful of soup into his mouth. “This stuff’s good.”
“Why, thank you.” Hoshi smiled.
Jonathan seated himself on a log beside Travis and Crewman Jones, immediately striking up conversation. There was no room for Malcolm between them. Malcolm hovered for a moment, before choosing to go sit by Trip, feeling a little dejected.
“Have a nice time?” Trip asked.
“It was okay. Thank you,” Malcolm said as his bowl was filled up by Chef. He blew gently on his spoon to cool it down.
He ate in silence, Trip babbling in his ear but he wasn’t really listening. His focus was on Jon sitting across from him. His lover hadn’t turned to look at him, not once, since they’d sat down.
Don’t be so childish, Malcolm chastised himself. He enjoys socializing, you know this.
Still, it hurt.
“Malcolm.” He was drawn back to the present by Trip’s voice, dripping in concern. “You okay?”
“Hm? I’m fine,” Malcolm said. “Sorry. Just lost in thought.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
“Really.” Malcolm could feel the annoyance washing over him and he couldn’t help it when he snapped, “Leave me alone, would you?”
Trip blinked. “I hardly said anything.”
“Well, it was enough.” Malcolm put down his half-finished bowl and stood up. “I’m turning in early. Goodnight.”
It was only half past eight, the planet’s sun hadn’t even dipped fully below the horizon yet, and he knew he wasn’t going to be getting to sleep any time soon. Still, he stalked off, fully aware of Trip’s gaze digging holes into his back.
He stepped inside his and Jonathan’s shared tent and burrowed into his sleeping bag. He dug around his bag for the book he’d been reading, finding it buried at the bottom. With a soft sigh, Malcolm emersed himself in the pages. Or at least, he tried to.
He was rereading the same passage for the third time when he abruptly heard voices drifting in from outside the tent.
“…seemed really agitated, I dunno…”
“Don’t worry… talk to him…”
As the tent flapped open, Malcolm pretended not to notice the sound of retreating footsteps as Jonathan’s conversation companion walked away. The accent had been a dead giveaway of who it was, but he wasn’t about to let on that he knew. Talking about me behind my back now, are you?
“Hey.” Jonathan greeted.
“Hey,” Malcolm returned flatly.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Malcolm said. “Just a bit tired.”
Jonathan crouched down next to Malcolm’s sleeping bag and slowly, gently, pushed his book down so they were face to face. “You know I know that’s not true.”
Malcolm set the book down in his lap. “I don’t know. I’m just a bit wound up, I guess.” He managed a small, rueful smile. “You know how I feel about sleeping in strange places.”
“Well, I’m here. Does that help at all?”
“I’m not a child, Jon.”
“Never said you were.” Jonathan sat down cross-legged next to him and laid a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. The touch was warm, welcoming. Malcolm allowed himself to lean into it. “I’m just worried about you. It’s not like you to be so snappy, especially with Trip.”
“You’ve clearly never seen me at my worst, then, Jon.”
“Oh, I’ve certainly seen it.”
There was an uncomfortable pause. Malcolm was about to ask what he meant, dreading the answer, but Jon beat him to it.
“Second year, that singularity,” he blurted. “Your obsession with the tactical alert that ended up saving our asses.”
“One of few times you actually listened to me.”
Oh, bloody hell. Why did he have to go and say that? Instantly, Jon’s upbeat nature fell and gave way to something more solemn, almost exasperated.
“I try to listen you everything you say, Malcolm,” Jon said. “It’s just sometimes your suggestions are a bit…”
“Annoying?”
“Unnecessary,” Jon finished. “We’re on a mission of exploration, we’re not a warship.”
“We bloody well acted like one during the Expanse.”
Jon shook his head. “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Malcolm.”
Malcolm relaxed. “Me neither, Jon. I’m sorry.”
“Let’s just get some rest,” Jon suggested. “I’m sure all we need is a decent night’s sleep.”
Malcolm nodded in agreement.
They curled up around each other, but each of their bodies were noticeably tense, and it took a while for each of them to get to sleep.
By the next morning, Malcolm felt even grumpier than he had last night. Suddenly the weight of Jon’s hand on his hip was just an annoyance and he quickly brushed it off, stirring the older man.
“Mmm, Malcolm?”
“Morning, Jon,” Malcolm said, more curtly than he expected.
Jon blinked the sleep from his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m just going to get some breakfast.” He didn’t wait for a response before he left the tent.
What’s wrong with me recently? Malcolm wondered. Snapping first at Trip, then at his own lover. He felt short-tempered, like the slightest thing going on would set him over the edge. It’s just the stress, he told himself. Probably. Maybe.
Or maybe they should get Phlox down here, make sure there wasn’t anything in the air affecting them.
Then why isn’t affecting anyone else? No, that’s a ridiculous notion.
His irritation only seemed to grow throughout the day, until it was time to leave and he felt ready to snap. And it wasn’t just him. Jon, too, seemed unreasonably irritated, though he kept it hidden behind a smile and a couple of comments that could have been described as passive-aggressive. Most of them directed at Malcolm.
Malcolm ignored them for the most part. The cracks at how he couldn’t relax, why didn’t he play soccer with the rest of the crew, did he even know how to have fun? Malcolm held his tongue all throughout, and was managing quite well, actually.
But other people were noticing. Trip was throwing glances at the two of them out of the corner of his eye. The air suddenly felt tense and suffocating, everyone could feel it.
Finally, it was time to leave for the next shore leave group to come down. Everyone clambered into the shuttlepods, squished shoulder to shoulder. Malcolm automatically went to one of the chairs at the front.
“Why don’t you let me drive, Malcolm?” Jon said, pushing past him.
“What, don’t you think I can handle navigating back to the ship, sir?”
It was a stupid quarrel, childish, and it put everyone at a sudden standstill.
“You just don’t want to be squished in the back, do you?” Jon said.
Trip’s eyes widened. “Cap’n!”
“It’s fine.” Malcolm held back every retort—and there was a lot of them—and flopped down next to Hoshi. “Not a big deal.”
Trip looked back and forth between his captain and his best friend, huffed in frustration.
They made it back to Enterprise in one piece. The crew trickled out of the shuttle until it was only Trip, Malcolm, and Jon behind. Trip cast a glance between them. “You two gonna play nice?”
“Always,” Jon said.
Trip pursed his lips. Hesitantly, he turned and left as well.
“Jon.” Malcolm turned to Archer. “I think we need to talk.”
“My quarters,” Jon agreed.
Once in the privacy of Jonathan’s quarters, Malcolm crossed his arms and cut right to the chase.
“So, what was that all about?”
Jon looked up. “What?”
“In the shuttlepod,” Malcolm said. “You were completely out of line, and in front of the crew too!”
Jon hesitated, something dawning on him. “I… don’t know,” he said slowly. He looked Malcolm in the eye. “It seemed reasonable at the time. Of course, now it seems completely crazy. I’m sorry, Malcolm.”
Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “That’s your apology?”
“What else do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” Malcolm said. “Maybe explain to me why you felt the reason to say that in the first place. You demeaned me in front of everyone!”
“I can’t explain it, Malcolm,” Jon huffed. “Only that it felt like a reasonable thing to say in the moment.”
“Well, do you still feel that way?”
“No, not at all.” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “But I’m not the only one who’s been saying nasty things.”
“At least I didn’t embarrass you in front of your crew!” Malcolm exclaimed. “I’m on thin enough ice with them as it is, I don’t need my captain, my lover, making it worse.”
“You made it plenty worse yourself, Malcolm.”
Malcolm took a step back, eyes widening. “What are you saying?”
“You know damn well what I’m saying,” Jon hissed. “Get out of my quarters.”
“Sir-”
“You heard me, Malcolm. I don’t have to listen to this, nor do I have to waste any more of my apologies on you.”
“You call that an apology?”
Jonathan descended upon him until they were face to face. He didn’t say anything, but his face was telling enough.
Swallowing thickly, Malcolm left.
The air on the bridge was tense. Even T’Pol kept raising her head and throwing raised-eyebrow looks between Jon and Malcolm.
“Sir.” Malcolm’s soft voice cut through the silence. “We’re coming up on a minor asteroid field. After the modifications we made to the cannons, I would like to test them, to make sure everything’s working right. With your permission, of course.”
Jon didn’t even remove his gaze from the viewscreen. “Request denied.”
There was a beat.
“It might be a good idea, sir,” Travis piped up. “Like a target practice.”
“We don’t want to possibly cause any disruptions to the field,” Jon said. “You can play with your toys another time, Malcolm.”
Malcolm bit his lip. “Sir, as Travis said, it’s nothing more than target practice. I’ll be careful.”
“Denied, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, if you would just-”
“Enough!” Jon snapped. “You can’t give me orders, lieutenant, only advice.”
Malcolm felt rage well up in him, and he did his best to quash it down but could not fully repress it. “As if you ever even listen to my advice, sir.”
Jon whirled around in his chair. “What did you just say to me?”
“Maybe you should listen to me every once in a while!”
“Maybe I have a good reason, Lieutenant,” Jon hissed. “Especially after you went behind my back and endangered every member of this crew. Why would I listen to you now?”
Travis turned around in horror. T’Pol’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. Hoshi pointedly looked away, and the crewmen in the back looked like they’d rather be anywhere but here. Jon, however, didn’t seem to notice any of this, didn’t seem to notice he’d said anything untoward.
Malcolm, for his part, couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pain at the fact that Jon was bringing everything out into the open, and on the bridge too. The rage was fizzling out as rational thought overtook him. He settled back in his chair and bit out an “aye, sir,” tactically avoiding the gazes of everyone on the bridge. Suspicion was welling up within him, but he’d have to wait until his shift was over to confirm it.
Malcolm went straight to sickbay as soon as his shift was over. He was caught by Travis in the hallway, who asked if everything was alright and if there was anything he could do. “Captain Archer was way out of line,” the helmsman said. “We all know you didn’t mean what you did. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”
“Me neither,” Malcolm sighed. “But that’s what I’m hoping to find out.”
It had to be an external force doing this, right? It couldn’t possibly be how the captain really felt about him. He refused to believe it.
“Lieutenant,” Phlox greeted as soon as Malcolm walked in. “Something I can do for you?”
“In fact, there is.” Malcolm hesitated, then stepped closer. “The captain has been acting… odd recently. Lashing out, mostly at me. It’s uncharacteristic of him. I was wondering if perhaps you picked up anything in decon when we came back from shore leave, or…”
Phlox pursed his lips. “I did not, but I can check again. When did this all start?”
“About the time we found that planet,” Malcolm said.
“Hm. And you haven’t felt any effects either?”
Malcolm thought a moment. “I have, actually,” he admitted, remembering his agitation and his own sharp words back on the bridge. What was it Jon had said two days before? It felt rational at the time?
Phlox left and returned moments later with a hand-scanner, running it up and down the lieutenant’s body. “Well, your blood pressure is elevated, and your cortisol levels—a stress hormone—is heightened as well. But I’ll have to run some proper scans to see if there’s anything external causing this.”
“Are you able to check the captain as well?”
“Oh, certainly! I could call him now if you like.”
Malcolm barely restrained a wince. “Er, maybe not right now.”
Phlox tilted his head, questioning.
“We, um… There was an altercation on the bridge.”
“I see,” said Phlox.
“That’s why I came to you. We never have such public spats like that, and I haven’t felt myself recently, so I’m wondering if something on the planet perhaps did this.”
Phlox hummed. “Well, I suppose it’s possible. Rest assured, I’ll take a look.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
It wasn’t long before Phlox was calling both Jon and Malcolm back into sickbay. Less than a day, in fact. But even in that short of a time frame Malcolm had felt his aggression grow, his irritation and Jon expand to even when the man wasn’t in the room with him. They hadn’t spent a night together since shore leave, and while Malcolm mourned the loss, a part of him was strangely relieved.
“Gentlemen,” the doctor greeted. “Thank you for coming. As per Lieutenant Reed’s concerns, I have indeed found something that might be of interest to you both.”
“What concerns?” Jon turns to Malcolm, eyes narrowing.
Phlox clears his throat. “The lieutenant was… worried about your behaviour, captain, and he is not the only one. Both Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather also came to me with concerns, about the both of you.”
“I feel fine,” Jon snapped.
“You may feel fine, but something has indeed been affecting your attitude. It seems that while you were on shore leave, both you and Lieutenant Reed picked up a pollen of sorts.”
“A pollen?” Malcolm repeated.
“Indeed. I have not had time to analyse it fully, but from what I can tell, it causes heightened stress and anger in humans.”
“Is the crew in any danger?” Jon asked.
“I don’t believe so, or I suspect we’d be getting reports of crewmen fighting in the halls by now. No, the pollen seems to have only affected you two. Perhaps you went somewhere that the rest of the group did not and picked it up there.”
Malcolm glanced at Jon. “We did go on a walk…”
“Are you blaming me again?”
“Gentlemen!” Phlox said. “No one is blaming anyone. We are merely trying to ascertain what happened.”
“So, how can we fix it?” Jon snapped. “I do have a ship to run, you know.”
Phlox sighed. “I am well aware of that. However, I need more time to synthesise a possible cure.”
“So what does that mean for us?” Malcolm asked.
“Well, I suspect that the effects may wear off given enough time, but I also fear what may happen in the interim.” He eyed them carefully. “You are both clearly agitated at each other, and according to Ensign Mayweather, have no qualms about taking it out on each other in the presence of others, which is uncharacteristic of both of you.”
“What are you saying? That we should stay away from each other?”
“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Phlox said.
Malcolm and Jon glanced at each other. Malcolm hated the irritation that welled up within him at the mere sight of the man’s face, at the blame he was directing at Jon for getting them into this mess in the first place.
“Well,” Jon was the first to speak, “I suppose we don’t have any other choice. Lest we want to be at each other’s throats every time we see each other.”
Swallowing thickly, Malcolm nodded in agreement.
For a time, the plan actually worked.
Phlox’s unorthodox treatment had been to reassign duty shifts and to get T’Pol to assign Malcolm temporary quarters until the situation was resolved. When that would be, he wasn’t sure, but at a guess it would be when they could spend an hour having breakfast without petty jabs again, and in the meantime they would be regularly tested for presence of the pollen.
So Captain Archer returned to the bridge to return to his duty shift. Malcolm had been given a set of bedsheets and a room assignment.
Which was a shame, truly. Moving in with Jon had been as pragmatic as it wasn’t—the room had been converted into a weapons locker. The extra cot was still there, but the locker took up every part of the room that wasn’t pressed into the side of the bed. It took ten minutes, with some awkward manoeuvring, for him to get the bed properly set up. It was uncomfortable, but at least he had a place to sleep.
Indeed, all went well for the first three days. Malcolm even felt some of his agitation begin to dissipate. No longer did he snap at his team to get things done in under impossible times, and his thoughts of Jon were not met with bursts of anger.
Until one night, when Malcolm found he couldn’t sleep.
He tossed and turned, flipped his pillow around, but every time he shut his eyes they would just spring open again within five minutes. With a sigh, Malcolm heaved himself upright. Might as well get some work done.
He was rifling around in his desk when he remembered he’d left the report PADDs down in the armoury. Cursing his own carelessness, Malcolm reluctantly palmed the door controls and stepped outside.
In the armoury, the PADDs were sitting on his workbench in a pile. Malcolm swiped them off and, with a nod to Ensign Tanner who was manning the armoury while he was off duty, turned around.
And nearly bumped straight into Captain Archer.
“Captain-” Malcolm began to stutter out, but Jon talked over him.
“Exactly what are you doing here, Lieutenant? Your shift is over.”
“…I might ask you the same question, sir.”
Jon’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch your tongue. I want to see you in my ready room, Lieutenant. Now.”
With a glance at Ensign Tanner who was carefully avoiding it, Malcolm followed the captain out of the armoury like a walk of shame.
Once the door had slid shut behind them, Jon wasted no time getting to the crux of the matter.
“Off-duty means off-duty, Malcolm,” he said, and the use of his first name stirred something within Malcolm, though he couldn’t identify what it was. “Or don’t the rules apply to you?”
“I was just collecting some PADDs, sir.” Malcolm kept his gaze forward.
Jon walked right into his line of sight, staring him down. “And that’s all you were going to do?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to believe you, Malcolm, but frankly I don’t.”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
Jon shook his head and turned away. “Sometimes I wonder if I even know you.”
And Malcolm knew the conversation had rapidly and abruptly switched topics. This wasn’t about him being in the armoury, he realised. Jon was still holding onto what had happened weeks ago with Harris and Phlox. Perhaps he had been all along. “I’ve told you everything, Jon. What more do you want from me?”
Jon turned back. “I wanted you to tell me right from the start! You could have come to me, Malcolm.”
“Oh, like you would have listened,” Malcolm hissed. “Have you ever listened to a thing I say? Ever really, truly listened? All my security recommendations? No! Even this incident could have been avoided had you let T’Pol and I scan the planet for a bit longer!”
“Are you saying this is my fault?”
“YES!” Malcolm sucked in a deep breath and barrelled right on. “You say you can’t believe me, then expect me to tell you one of the deepest, most shameful secrets of my life? What kind of backwards thinking is that? This is why I didn’t tell you!”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to spare you!” Malcolm stepped closer to Jon until they were face to face, breath intermingling, their eyes locked.
“You told me you were under orders,” Jon hissed. “Someone else’s orders. I thought you were under mine, Malcolm. I thought you were mine!”
“Oh, I’m yours, am I?” Malcolm took another step forward as Jon took one back, but he kept moving, kept going until Jon was backed against the wall. “Do you think I belong to you? We’ll see about that.”
And then in one solid shove, Jon was pushed against the wall. Before he could move, Malcolm’s hands made quick work of his uniform, the fabric coming to pool at his feet. Jon struggled. Malcolm pinned his hands against the wall on either side of his head, and Jon growled.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, Lieutenant?”
“Showing you who’s really in charge here.” Then Malcolm knelt down and yanked Jon’s boxers down in one movement. He took Jon’s cock in his mouth, the organ hardening instantly. Jon moaned.
There was no finesse as Malcolm licked and sucked along the length, and there was no care either as he used his teeth to inflict pain as well as pleasure on his lover. Lost in his ministrations, Malcolm almost forgot all about his rage.
Almost.
Pulling off of Jon with a wet pop, Malcolm stood up and came face to face with his partner again. Jon’s eyes were half-closed, but zeroed in on him nonetheless. “I think that’s quite enough of that,” Malcolm said huskily. “Turn around.”
“I’m not following any orders from you.”
“Don’t you remember who’s in charge here? Turn. Around.”
“Like hell.”
And then their positions were flipped, Malcolm against the wall and Jon’s hands wrapped around his wrists, pinning them above his head, and before Malcolm could make a sound suddenly there were lips on his. The kiss was ferocious, so unlike either of them had experienced before. Pure anger drove it. Their teeth were clashing, drawing droplets of blood from their lips.
Malcolm moaned. His erection strained against his boxers. This certainly wasn’t what he’d planned, but he sure as hell was enjoying it.
When he noticed Jon’s free hand drifting to the zipper of his uniform, Malcolm abruptly shoved him back, taking advantage of the other man’s surprise and shock to spin him on his heel and slam him down against the table. Jon’s face was pressed against the table, his bare ass on display for Malcolm’s appreciation. He bucked up against Malcolm but Malcolm held fast.
With one hand he pinned Jon’s wrists behind his back, and with the other he reached into his pocket to pull out the small container of sensitive-skin hand cream he always kept.
“Don’t move,” Malcolm commanded. “Unless you want this to hurt.” Absently, he noticed Jon’s resistance was lacking anyway as he coated his fingers and, without preamble, inserted one finger.
Jon moaned, clenching reflexively around the digit. “Malcolm…”
“Shh,” Malcolm said, stilling a moment. “We don’t want the bridge to hear, do we? Be quiet.”
“You can’t – oh – order me.”
Malcolm grinned devilishly. “I’ve got the advantage, Jon. I think I can do whatever I please.” Then he curled his finger in just the right spot, causing Jon to arch his back and barely suppress a cry.
“You think I belong to you?” Malcolm said again as he inserted a second finger and began to roughly move them in and out, curling them just right. “I think you should think again.” He withdrew his fingers and quickly took off his own uniform and positioned himself at Jon’s anus.
There was a collective moan as Malcolm entered him with one swift stroke. Jon’s fingers were holding the edges of the table in a white-knuckled grip as his breaths came in short, desperate pants, as he tried to get used to the stretch.
Malcolm wasted no time, did not allow him the luxury of acclimatising. He moved his hips back and then forward again, testing, and Jon let go of the table with one hand to shove his fist in his mouth, obscuring a moan.
Malcolm immediately set a brutal pace, shoving Jon against the table with each thrust. The only sounds were Malcolm’s ragged breathing and the occasional creak of the table moving, and Jon’s barely-stifled moans and groans. Malcolm grabbed Jon’s thighs for leverage, twisting his hips so he grazed against the spot inside Jonathan every time. When that just wasn’t enough, he bent over and sank his teeth into Jon’s shoulder, causing the man to cry out despite Malcolm’s earlier order.
Eventually, though, Malcolm began to slow, as the rage that had previously clouded his mind began to dissipate. He could feel Jon relax beneath his hold, too, and knew the same thing was happening to him.
Malcolm came to a stop buried inside his partner. He blinked, as the realisation of what they were doing came back to him. He looked at the teeth mark he’d left. “Oh, god,” he said hoarsely, “Jon…”
“Don’t stop,” Jonathan whispered. “Please.”
“Jonathan, I-”
“What did I just say, Malcolm?” There was no heat behind Jon’s snapped tone, nothing like there had been before. Pure lust coated his voice. “Keep. Going.”
“Yes, sir,” Malcolm decided with a teasing lilt.
Jon dropped his head against the table and moaned.
The rhythm they set this time was careful and precise, but no less passionate. Malcolm rocked back and forth, impaling himself again and again on Jon, as Jon pushed back to meet him with every movement. Finally, with cries of each other’s names, they were coming together, Jon painted the floor and Malcolm releasing deep inside him.
For a moment they stood there, panting, then Malcolm let his softening cock slip out and took a step back. He… didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing at all.
Jonathan stood up as well. There was an indent around his stomach where the table had dug into him, but he didn’t seem all that bothered.
For a moment they simply stared at each other.
“…We should probably get dressed,” Jonathan said.
Malcolm nodded.
“Fascinating,” Phlox chirped as he ran the hand-scanner over Malcolm’s head. “Your hormone levels have returned to normal. As have yours, captain. I am detecting no lingering traces of the pollen in either of you.” He put down the scanner. “How did it happen?”
Malcolm and Jon glanced at each other. “…That’s a private matter, doctor,” Malcolm said, which was probably too much on its own, for Phlox’s face split into a grin.
“Oh, I see! Of course, of course, no need to bother with the details, then, hm?” He picked up a PADD and tapped something down, mumbling to himself. “It seems like the, erm, prolonged connection was all you needed to negate the pollen’s effects.” He looked back up at his patients. “You’re both free to go!”
Awkwardly, Jonathan and Malcolm stared at each other, then turned and walked through the sickbay doors and out into the hall.
“My quarters,” Jon said gently.
Malcolm braced himself for the conversation they were going to have as soon as the door slid shut, so when the first words out of Jon’s mouth were an apology, he was quite taken aback.
“I’m sorry, Malcolm,” Jon said. “I haven’t been the most professional the past few days, and saying what I did before… that just wasn’t right. Treating you like property, saying you belonged to me…” He shook his head.
“Jon, I-” Malcolm choked on air and tried again. “You’re apologising? I should be the one apologising! I… I all but took advantage of you back there,” he said quietly. “I was the one treating you like you existed solely for my pleasure.”
“You weren’t yourself, Malcolm, so you can hardly blame yourself for it.”
“But I had to have some control!” Malcolm exclaimed. He screwed his eyes shut. “I could have hurt you.”
Hands on his shoulders made him look up again. Jonathan was looking down on him, smiling softly. “But you didn’t,” he reassured Malcolm. Then he reached back and rubbed at the spot where Malcolm had bit. “At least, not in any way that mattered. And who’s to say I don’t like a little bit of pain?”
Malcolm pursed his lips. “Jon…”
“Don’t worry, Malcolm.” Jon pulled him in for a hug Malcolm couldn’t hardly resist. “You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t do anything to me I didn’t like, I can promise you that.”
Malcolm took a moment to ponder on these words. He hadn’t known before that Jon liked it rough, had always done his best to hold back, restrain himself, knowing how out-of-control he could get if not kept in check. The idea that Jon could enjoy that…
…was far more exciting than he expected.
Still, he shook his head and pulled back. “Besides that, I said some things-”
“We both said some things.”
“-that I’m not proud of.” Malcolm looked at Jon pointedly. “And I need to say this, sir, Lieutenant to Captain, because I never got the chance to tell you before. I deeply apologise for my betrayal. I broke your trust, everyone’s trust, and I recognise there is nothing I can do to make things as they were. I can’t make it right, nor can I justify my actions in any proper way. All I can say, sir, is that I am sorry, and that it won’t happen again.”
“Malcolm…” Jon hesitated. “You need to hear me. The things I said, they aren’t what I really believe. I don’t hold what happened against you. You thought you were doing the right thing. You were compromised, Malcolm. That’s hardly your fault.”
“I could have come to you, sir, as you said.”
“Could you?” Jon challenged. “Or would Harris have found out and punished you somehow? Could I have screwed up the situation even further? Anything was possible, Malcolm. I think, given that, we had the best possible outcome.”
Malcolm wasn’t sure he agreed. “Sir, surely you recognise the danger it posed to the crew.”
“Of course I recognise that, Malcolm,” Jon said. “But that doesn’t matter anymore. What does is that you don’t pose any danger to this crew. Do you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then it’s settled. We have nothing more to talk about.”
“But sir-”
“I don’t want to hear any more ‘sir’ while we’re off duty, Malcolm,” Jon said kindly.
Malcolm swallowed. Despite his hesitance, he couldn’t doubt he was beginning to feel a little better—about everything.
“Malcolm,” Jon took another step forward and kissed him gently, a stark contrast to the kiss they’d shared earlier. “Stop worrying.”
“I can’t,” Malcolm said. “It’s in my nature.”
A devious grin spread across Jon’s face. “Then how about I distract you and help you forget instead?”
And this time, they didn’t even have to be silent.