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Malcolm stirred in his narrow bunk, mumbling in his sleep.
“Hoshi,” he sighed, the sound barely leaving his lips. “So lovely. So soft.”
The fingers of his left hand twitched where they lay on the coverlet, curving as though they were surrounding something, slowly opening and closing as though they were squeezing. His mouth dropped open slightly and he uttered a quiet moan as his right hand under the covers slipped into his underwear, taking hold of himself in his sleep, moving slowly and steadily as he reached out with his left hand to tug someone nearer.
In her quarters a deck up, Hoshi sighed in her own dreams, feeling an irresistible pull. She found herself in Malcolm’s room, hearing him murmur her name, an invocation to draw her close. The air rippled near the door; anyone who even noticed the movement would have equated it to something like a heat shimmer. The ripples formed a vaguely human shape, not very tall, lightly curved, slender. Hoshi floated above the bed, drawing aside the bedclothes, leaving Malcolm clad in only his briefs, erection tightly enclosed in his fist.
The shape settled to kneel over him, reaching to gently tug his hand away from himself and guide it to his nipples before drawing his briefs down over his straining cock. Malcolm moaned louder, hips thrusting into the air, as warmth engulfed him in his dream, heat and suction and delicious vibration.
Beautiful Hoshi Sato knelt between his legs, that divine linguist’s mouth on him, performing with consummate skill as her lips, tongue, and teeth played him like the finest instrument. His fingers pinched at his nipples; his other hand gently manipulated her breast; his lips murmured a litany of Hoshi’s name, endearments and pleas spilling from him as she worked him with that talented mouth, his dreaming mind sending his hand to sink into glossy black hair. In his quarters, his hand rested over that slight shimmer, rising and falling with the movements of the shape.
Hoshi moaned in turn, her mouth tight around the velvet solidity of Malcolm’s cock. He was delicious against her tongue, salty and almost sweet, silky and rigid, and she couldn’t get enough. She felt the tension in his strong thighs, where her hands rested before one delved between his legs to play with his balls and perineum, sending him shuddering between her lips. His hand rested on her head, fingers entwined in her hair, not doing anything other than touching, not pushing her head down.
To reward him, she took him deep of her own accord, swallowing him down to the root, allowing her throat to squeeze rhythmically in the sweetest torture. She felt the blanket under her ankles, the sheet against her knees, his fingers against her scalp. She felt the shuddering of his thighs as he tried to rein in his climax, heard his half-whispered entreaties, and smiled to herself; she wouldn’t allow him to stave it off.
Her mouth worked harder, faster, even more diligently, and all at once the man trembling and pleading beneath her broke, warmth flooding her throat as he stiffened and groaned before he fell back into the mattress, his hand dropping from her hair to land beside him. She sat back on her heels, delicately wiping the corners of her mouth, and watched his eyes open groggily, saw him reach for her, her name on his lips.
And then the alarm went off, and Malcolm woke to a mess on his stomach, his briefs pulled partially down, and the bedclothes pushed aside.
On C-Deck, Hoshi opened her eyes, the taste of salt lingering in her throat as the sound of her name whispered longingly in a clipped British accent reverberated in her ears.
It had all been just a dream?
The day passed like any other, save for a frisson of awareness as grey eyes met brown, each nodding to the other in a friendly fashion. At lunch, Hoshi made a production of eating her first mouthful of cheesecake, and Malcolm was assailed with a memory of a warm mouth and soft, enveloping heat. He choked on his water, startled; Hoshi thumped him on the back; and the moment passed.
After his coughing fit had ended, he murmured, “Thanks, Hoshi.” A fleeting recollection of her name groaned in ecstasy made her own eyes widen and she quickly stuffed another piece of cheesecake into her mouth and nodded with a noncommittal hum so she wouldn’t have to say anything.
There were no such incidents for the rest of the shift, or that evening, as they watched another of Trip’s seemingly endless movie collection. This one featured pirates, swordplay, sea (and land) battles, romance, and heroism, with a judicious helping of English accents and an overabundance of swashbuckling.
When the communications and tactical officers went to bed that night, they were both still humming the score to The Sea Hawk before settling down to sleep, images of pirates covering the insides of their eyelids.
“Will you be mine, Lieutenant, even if the rules forbid it?” Hoshi murmured, as warm lips pressed kisses along her shoulders and up her nape. Without waiting for an answer, her hands reached behind her to hook into the waistband and curve around the tight rear of the man whose arms enfolded her, his own hands deftly undoing the lacing that kept her simple garment fastened in front.
Drawn by her desire for him, it was Malcolm’s turn to find himself in Hoshi’s quarters, the pirate dream overlaying what he knew her room looked like. It was an odd experience, but somehow he was able to see and feel both at the same time. The lovely linguist was warm and sweet-smelling in his arms, her skin soft under his lips. As the light fabric of her shirt fell, her hands left Malcolm’s behind and trailed along the hem of her briefs; an action mirrored in her quarters, as a shimmering shape, slightly taller and rather more broad-shouldered than the night before, moved around her to float above the bed and carefully draw aside the bed-linen.
Malcolm hovered above his gorgeous pirate queen as she sprawled on the large bed in her ship’s cabin, stretching lazily amidst her plunder - rich, soft velvets, the deep jewelled colours enhancing the creamy-gold of her partially-bared skin. One hand trailed down her torso, lingering at her breasts, and she reached out her other to him, murmuring his name.
He could do no less than acquiesce to that imperious summons, gently parting her thighs as he knelt between her legs, staring at the delights covered by Starfleet-blue fabric. “Hoshi, my love, you’re too exquisite to be ignored.” His fingers hooked under the middle of her briefs and pulled it to one side, baring glistening folds. “I’ll die if I can’t taste you.”
Brown eyes stared into grey and, lip caught between her teeth, she nodded. The next moment her eyes rolled back and she let out a moaning exhale as his tongue brushed against that delicate flesh. Malcolm’s hand, once again inside his briefs, squeezed tightly in response to the unconscious groan that left his lips at the sound of her pleasure.
Hoshi’s unoccupied hand trailed up under her oversized blue t-shirt to her breasts, fingers slowly circling an aching bud, never quite touching, until finally she pinched lightly and her body arched under the dark head buried between her thighs. Gasping cries filled the cabin, the air shimmered between her legs, and Malcolm’s tongue drew patterns, spelling her name, then his, her sweetly musky flavour filling his mouth as he writhed on his bed, hand tight on his cock.
Hoshi’s hips rose and fell under her frantically working hand, the air shimmering above her centre in corresponding waves, as Malcolm continued his onslaught, his head rising and falling in synchrony with her movements. Her other hand reached out to sink into his soft hair, and Malcolm hummed as her fingers scratched gently across his scalp. She was ambrosia in his mouth, every swipe of his tongue making him ever more her devoted worshipper.
In his bed, Malcolm’s head flung back and forth on his pillow, his thoughts filled only with Hoshi, Hoshi, Hoshi. His hand worked himself faster as his tongue delved deeper within her, making her writhe and cry his name as the unbearable tension grew and her fingers tightened in his hair. In her bed, she pressed harder against herself, whimpering his name. One gentle nip, another, and she was falling, his warm hand on her thigh all that anchored her to the world.
On B-Deck, Malcolm arched under his frantically-moving hand, a deep groan leaving him, warmth and wetness spilling across his stomach.
And the alarm went off.
This shift was not quite as standard as before. Each time their eyes met, electricity ghosted along their nerves. They continued as professionally as ever; no one watching or listening would have known anything was different. Perhaps they stood a little closer at the morning briefing; perhaps they focused a little more intently as the other spoke; perhaps their eyes met a little more frequently than usual.
This time when Hoshi made a delighted sound at her first bite of chocolate cake, Malcolm didn't choke, but glanced at her from under his lashes as he continued his conversation with Travis. This time when he said “Thank you, Hoshi," as she passed him the salt and their fingers brushed, she smiled and nodded even as a light flush pinked her cheeks. Catching Trip staring at her curiously, she crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and distracted him enough to make him forget what had piqued his interest. Malcolm had to hold his napkin over his mouth to hide his grin at Trip’s expense.
There was no movie that night, so they gathered in Trip’s room to watch something instead; not that either Malcolm or Hoshi could have said what the movie was about. About halfway through, Travis, sitting in the desk chair, nudged Trip’s foot and indicated them with his head. Sitting on the bed beside each other, they’d slumped together, dark head leaning against dark head. Malcolm's arms were crossed over his chest, a familiar pose even when awake; Hoshi's hands were clasped in her lap.
Grinning, Trip threw a piece of popcorn from his seat in his armchair, hitting Malcolm in the head. The Brit didn’t move, so he threw another, this time hitting his friend in the cheek. No response. Trip turned his attention to Hoshi, carefully calculating trajectories despite Travis’ frantic head-shaking; he didn't want to get onto Hoshi's bad side. With a last wink at Travis, Trip threw the popcorn to hit Hoshi's nose - and a swift hand snatched it out of the air and threw it back at him with deadly accuracy, hitting him in the middle of his forehead.
“Ow!"
Hoshi stirred and woke up. "Has the movie ended?” she asked a little groggily, yawning and stretching.
“No, but I think it's time I walked you home.” Malcolm’s voice was mild, but his eyes stared daggers at Trip, who was still rubbing his forehead, mouth slightly agape at the speed of his just-awoken friend’s reactions. Travis shook his head at Trip, rolling his eyes.
Hoshi nodded sleepily, then shook her head to wake up a little more. “Mmhmm,” she muttered. “Probably a good idea.” Then, “Thanks, Malcolm,” as she accepted the hand he offered to help her off the bed. Trip rubbing at his forehead caught her attention, and she frowned. “What’s wrong, Trip?”
“Just—just a headache,” the engineer replied, wary of the glare he was receiving from the armoury officer. “Nothing to worry about. You have a good night, okay?”
“Thanks, I will. Look after yourself. G’night, Travis. Thanks for the movie, Trip.”
“You’re welcome, Hosh. Any time.”
“Night, Hoshi,” Travis called with a little wave, as Malcolm escorted the communications officer out of the door with a polite farewell of his own. “Whew,” he breathed as the door closed behind them. “You’re lucky Malcolm caught that popcorn.”
“Lucky?” groused Trip.
“Yeah! Did you want an angry, embarrassed Hoshi on your case? I didn’t!”
“No—you’re right. I wasn’t thinking. Damn lucky.” And Trip shivered at the thought.
Malcolm strolled along quietly beside Hoshi, wondering when she’d realise that she hadn’t let go of his hand after he’d helped her up. He couldn’t get the image of her stretching beside him out of his head - so similar to how she’d stretched on her bed in his dream.
Hoshi's mind was foggy and apprehensive. Did he think it was weird that she was still holding his hand? Would he think it strange if she invited him to come inside her quarters? Should she tell him about her dreams?
If she kissed him, would he reciprocate, or push her away?
At her door, she hesitated, looking down at their joined hands, then up at his face. “Come in?” Relief rushed through her as he nodded. She smiled, and his stomach flipped, and just like that he would have done anything for her.
Well, he already would, but generally he tempered such thoughts with the warning that she was younger, she was his junior, she was his friend, and anyway, much of it was his job. Though right now, his job could go hang.
Hoshi didn’t let go of his hand as she led him to the centre of the room and turned to him. Malcolm was acutely aware of how soft and warm it was in his, of how her sweats and t-shirt fitted to her body, of the faint fragrance of fruit and flowers that clung to her. Those limpid espresso-coloured eyes lifted to his, and he swallowed hard at how much she looked like she had in his dreams.
She took a deep, steadying breath. “There’s something I wanted to discuss with you.” He nodded encouragingly, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ve been having these dreams…” Her voice was soft, low, diffident, as though she thought he might laugh. Instead, his eyes widened.
“So have I.” At that, her eyes widened and she took a step closer, into his space.
“They seemed—”
“—real.” Finishing her sentence, he ventured to lift her hand to his lips. Her lips parted as she watched him kiss her fingers, and it was all he could do not to groan as thoughts of that first dream and what those rosebud lips could do rushed through his mind.
She took another step closer. “I want—” Her teeth sank into her lip, cutting off what she was about to say, so he said it for her.
“—you.”
“Yes. I want you. Please.”
“Oh gods, yes.”
She let go of his hand, reaching up to his face, trailing her fingers across his jaw. Her eyes were fixed on his lips, and she licked her own as she asked, “Is it alright if I kiss you?”
He pulled her close and lowered his head to hers, lips barely brushing as he whispered, ”Yes.”
Her hands slid around his nape and then her mouth was on his, soft, warm, tasting of popcorn and Hoshi. He couldn’t get enough. He thought he groaned, and then he slid one hand around her thigh and lifted her against himself, almost unconsciously, and the next moment she had her legs around his waist and the kiss had turned a little frantic.
He stumbled back against the locker and she pulled away, making him groan again; but in one swift move her teal t-shirt was up and over her head and all she wore was a pretty little black lace bra that made his mind go blank as the deep flush of her nipples showed through. He couldn’t stop himself from tasting; she gasped, arching into him, and fuck her hips were flexing and she was rubbing against his erection and he knew they were moving too fast but he needed to get her naked now, right now.
She giggled against the side of his neck; he realised he’d said that out loud, and doubled down, lowering his voice as he repeated into her ear, ”Now. Please?”
She shivered delightfully at the resonance, dropping her feet to the ground and letting him tug at her sweats even as she did the same to him. The next few seconds were a frenzy of undressing themselves and each other, clothing flung every which way, giggles and chuckles interspersed with clumsy, panting kisses, all teeth and noses getting in the way, and soft curses at particularly recalcitrant items, until at last they were both naked and tumbling onto her bunk.
He wanted to see her in that lacy lingerie again but right now, all he wanted was her. Finally he could taste and touch and tease to his heart’s content. She was soft and pliable, warm and eager, and her hands were everywhere on him, taking their fill, too. He filled his mouth with those delicious breasts, making her squirm and pant, laughing breathlessly as she held his head to her. His mouth was hot and avid, his hands covetous as they roamed her waist and hips, one sliding around her back to hold her close.
“I can feel your heartbeat, sweetheart," he whispered against sensitive skin, making her gasp as he smiled, his lips brushing across one tight nub. “Is that for me?"
“Oh gods, yes,” she whispered back. " I love how intense you get when you're focused on a task. And the task right now is me - I’m surprised my heart hasn't pounded right out of my chest!"
He chuckled, dropping kisses all over her chest and throat. “You're so good for my ego, love. If you only knew how hard my own heart is hammering right now."
At that, she lifted his head from her so she could look at the base of his throat, where his pulse was indeed jumping. A wicked little smile crossed her lips and she wrapped her legs around him and rolled so he ended up below her. A wriggle or two on top of him, and he gasped as she slid down his body, kissing hungrily all the way down, particularly on his stomach.
"Let's see how fast I can make it go," she purred, and the next moment he was engulfed in heat and wet and vibration as she hummed. Malcolm cried out, hands in her hair, silken strands sliding across his fingers, hips arching beneath her as she took him as deep as she could, then added light teasing to drive him mad, her hands questing between his thighs in ways that made him catch his breath. He spread himself wide for her, ankles catching around the backs of her knees as she knelt between his, letting her do as she pleased.
He was hot and hard, silken and salty and almost sweet, just as Hoshi remembered from her dream; like velvet over granite, and utterly delicious. His fingers were gentle in her hair, and he writhed beautifully beneath her as she used every bit of skill at her disposal to make him wild, make him groan her name in desperation. And that was another memory that made her entire body flush with heat.
Malcolm could scarcely believe his long-held wish was happening. But Hoshi felt so incredible, was so skilled, and if he didn’t stop her now he wouldn’t get to be inside her, so reluctantly he tugged at her hair gently, making her stop and look up at him.
“You feel so damn good, sweetheart–” He didn’t miss how she shivered at the endearment, filing that away for later use “–but I don’t want to end down your throat. Not this time.” She shivered again at the thought of more, and lifted her mouth off him with a pop.
She wiped the corners of her lips - his eyes widened at the sight of his memory come to life - and smiled. “How do you want me?” Her voice was low, sultry, and it was his turn to tremble.
“On your back,” he said hoarsely, and rolled out of her way as she moved to obey. Her legs parted around him as he knelt between her thighs, and he stared down at her centre, those glistening folds alluring beneath his gently stroking fingers. “As beautiful as I remember,” he said softly; his eyes lifted to hers, and she felt her breath stop at the aching sweetness of that smile.
”Malcolm,” she whispered, and his smile grew.
“I like the way you say my name, so intense. Say it again.”
“Malcolm, please.” His smile turned a little feral.
“Hmm, yes, so needy. Close your eyes, love, and just let yourself feel.” And then his mouth was on her, and it was everything she’d dreamed of and more.
She arched beneath him, crying his name, her fingers in his hair as her hips bucked against that clever, ardent mouth. He wrapped his arms lightly around her hips, letting his mouth follow where she moved, pushing his tongue deep between her folds, tasting and teasing and tormenting. His tongue flickered, and lapped, and delved, and he tightened his grip as she thrashed, spelling out her name and his across that sensitive bundle of nerves.
And then he grazed his teeth across her, and she fell apart, hands gripping his hair as her body arched off the bed into a long bow, her voice delighting his ears as pleas and praise and Malcolm! fell from her lips in a desperate litany of pleasure. She was almost sobbing with exquisite need as he raised her to another peak, and another, before she pushed at his head, her hands trembling.
“Too much,” she whispered breathlessly, and he dropped gentle kisses on each thigh before lavishing kisses across her heated skin on his way back up her body, ending with his face in her neck.
“Thank you for letting me live out my dream,” he murmured, and she exhaled hard.
“I could say the same.”
He pulled back and looked into her face, suddenly perturbed. “Is this another dream? Am I dreaming right now?”
Hoshi smiled and framed his face in her hands. “If it is, we’re sharing it, again. The first time I felt like I was being pulled to your room; I was floating above you before I got to do what I’d been craving for so long. I felt the bedclothes of your bunk. I felt you.”
“And the second time I was drawn to your quarters. I held you, I floated above you, watched you call to me, my pirate queen, until I had to taste you or go mad.”
“Maybe we were ghosts. Or astral projecting. Whatever it was, we were together. We both felt it. And it … was … amazing.”
He kissed the shell of her ear. “I’ll make you feel so much better in a minute, if you’ll let me, love.”
She turned her head and rubbed her nose against his. “Only a minute?” she teased gently, and he growled and nipped playfully at her neck, careful not to leave a mark.
“Minx!”
“Rogue.”
He turned them onto their sides, sliding a thigh between hers so he could rub his hips against her, his cock sliding through her folds, making her inhale sharply. “Please?” Her answer was a wordless moan and frantic nod as she clutched at him, and he lifted her thigh over his hip so he could slide inside her.
Gods, she was hot, a little furnace surrounding him. “You feel so damn good,” he groaned again, and her hand grasped at his rear, pulling him closer even as he began moving, his bottom leg providing leverage.
Oh, cosmos, he felt incredible inside her, filling her so exquisitely, making her feel the pleasurable ache of being deliciously stretched to accommodate him. She thanked her lucky stars that he wasn’t outsize, but absolutely perfect for her. And oh, yes, he was as precise in his movements as he was when correcting her stance, or teaching a new combat move.
He began slowly, languidly, using all of his length and muscle control and skill to make her gasp and moan, the more debauched parts of his somatic senses making note of the exact movements for future gratification. Gradually he picked up the pace, until they were both panting and he had her whimpering at every thrust. She was no passive receiver; an active participant, her hands and lips roamed him even as her hips pushed back, her upper leg curling around him, heel digging into that tight arse to keep him as close as possible.
But he was still being careful, almost reverent, and with a frustrated little moan Hoshi closed her teeth on his jaw. “Harder, Malcolm, faster,” she panted. He pulled back and looked at her questioningly. “You don’t have to go easy on me. I’m no virgin; you won’t hurt me.”
A thrill ran through him at her words, and the next moment he’d rolled her under him and leaned over her on his forearms, still moving his hips slowly. “Are you sure, love?”
The way she clenched around him at the endearment was proof enough, but he couldn’t prevent the satisfied growl that left him when she wound both legs around his waist and pulled him close, lips at his ear. “Positive. I won’t break, I promise.”
That was all he needed to hear. “Then hold on, sweetheart,” he rasped, and began to move in earnest. Short, sharp, powerful strokes soon had her keening, her ankles tightening at the top of his buttocks, pulling down on him as her hips lifted to meet his. Her nails scored down his back, the pain sending excitement racing through his spine, and Hoshi arched beneath him, throat bared as her mouth opened in a long cry of pleasure.
“Malcolm, gods yes, Malcolm—”
With a shuddering groan, he lifted himself to his knees, pulling her up with him so that she sat in his lap, arms clutching at his shoulders. The new angle kept him deep, his hips thrusting hard against her weight; she unlocked her ankles and brought her knees to either side of him, moving fluidly in sync, clenching with each rise, grinding against him with each downward stroke.
“Gods,” he choked, barely able to speak coherently over the pounding of his heart and the rushing of his blood. “Hoshi, love—”
She grabbed his face and kissed him hard, teeth clashing as they moved in frantic rhythm. One hand at her nape, the other tight on her hip, he held her close, pace unrelenting as he felt faint flutters begin deep inside her. Teeth sank into lips, and he tasted blood; he didn’t know who’d drawn whose, and didn’t much care, as long as Hoshi kept making those desperate, high sounds, squeezing around him while her nails sank into his shoulders and her beautiful breasts rubbed against his chest. The hand on her hip pulled her close so he could twist into every upward stroke, rubbing firmly against that swollen little nub in a steady rhythm calculated to drive her wild.
Malcolm would be the death of her, and it would be worth every moment. That lean, experienced warrior’s body drove into her with a ferocity she craved; every wanton thought, every licentious desire of hers laid bare as she rode him wildly in turn, holding on for dear life. Each fevered movement sent electricity shooting from her oversensitive nipples straight to her core; she couldn’t get enough. Nothing had ever felt so good, she was sure. All other erotic adventures of her past paled beside this moment, wanting and being wanted with bone-deep need.
Holding his gaze, she thrust two fingers into her mouth, wetting them, and slid her hand between them, watching his silver-sage eyes ignite with sheer lust at both the sight and the feel of her fingers rubbing against both of them where they were joined.
She felt his rhythm begin to falter, just as her climax slammed into her with the force of a meteor strike. She thought she cried his name, but there was a roaring in her ears; she thought he cried hers as he stiffened against her, his own short nails digging into her flank. And then his teeth sank into her collarbone, and she was lost in a whirlwind of sensation.
Hoshi was a goddess atop him, demanding, fierce, uninhibited as she moved in synchrony with the cadence of his plunges. Her silken hair flowed around them, caressing his shoulders as she wound herself around him, her fingers brushed against his cock as she teased herself, and all at once she tightened around him convulsively. All it took was ”Malcolm!” on a sobbing breath beside his ear, and he had to hold on to something or fly apart. Her collarbone was at his lips, and he bit down without conscious thought, scarcely aware that he was groaning Hoshi’s name into her flesh as the world shattered.
He slowly came back to awareness, still kneeling, Hoshi slumped around him. He’d released her collarbone from his teeth and now gently laid his lips against the livid mark he’d left behind. She hissed a little, and regret pierced him at the hurt he’d caused her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, a lump in his throat. How could he have—
“I’m not.” Her lips grazed up his neck until she reached his ear, and she bit lightly at the lobe. “I wanted it. I’m only sorry I didn’t get to do the same.” Amusement warmed her voice as she added, “This time.” Her head returned to his shoulder and he turned to look at her in wonder, watching her eyes blink at him slowly, lips curving. “Can we do that again? Later,” she clarified, as his eyes widened.
His lips quirked at the obvious enjoyment she was deriving from his bemusement. “Minx,” he murmured affectionately, lips returning to her shoulder, carefully avoiding the bite mark. "Go ahead and tease. See how that works out for you."
“Hmm, I can’t wait.” She nuzzled his jaw. “But first, rest. Well, first, clean-up, then rest. But maybe a couple of minutes lying down before clean-up?”
“Your wish is my command.” As she chuckled at that, he carefully turned them and used the strength of his core muscles to lay them down without thumping them into the mattress. His softening erection slipped out of her as they moved, and she whined a little. “Sorry, love.”
“S’okay. Love.” Her eyes brightened as she emulated him, and he felt his heart thump hard in his chest. “Hmm. Malcolm, love.” She snuggled her head under his chin, sighing in pleasure as his arms tightened around her. “It took a few years, but even though I wanted to do this long ago, I’m glad we waited.”
“You are?” He brought up one hand to trace little circles on her jaw, and she shivered happily.
“Yes. We were friends first, so I’ve been able to love you—and show you that love—for longer than I would have if trying to be a romantic partner under the old frat regs. This way, we got to know each other without the pressure of flirting and romance.”
His finger stopped stroking her face, and she let out a protesting murmur until he started up again. “I never thought about it that way.”
“Most people wouldn’t. That’s not how romance is supposed to work, according to the books and movies. But I think I prefer it. We’ve seen each other at our best and our worst, and we’d still do almost anything for each other. I think that’s a good basis for romance, don’t you?”
Malcolm shifted, rubbing his free hand down Hoshi’s arm. “My worst is pretty bad. You've only seen some of it. I’m … I’m not a good man, Hoshi.”
“Hey!” She poked him in the chest, fiercely. “Don’t you talk about my friend that way! You’ve done some shitty things in the past? I was nearly the means of our entire planet’s destruction. It’s not a contest, Malcolm Reed!”
He smiled into her hair, lifting his hand to placate his fierce love. “I apologise, love. I know you hate when we insult ourselves - any of us.”
“Damn right I do, and with good reason.” Muttering under her breath, she made herself comfortable again, every move an indicator of her annoyance. “Better not let me hear you say that kind of nonsense again. You are a good man. And if you need reminders, I’ll be happy to provide them. Every damn day, for the rest of our lives. Do you hear me?”
He smiled again, and kissed her temple. “Every damn day, for the rest of our lives. I like that, minx.” One finger trailed along her jaw, and he lifted her chin to nuzzle at her cheek.
The kiss was slow, sweet, gentle. The faint taste of blood had come from his lip, and she murmured apologies, lavishing it with butterfly kisses before he captured her mouth again, thumb stroking her cheek until they drew apart just enough to breathe.
"I like the taste of your lips on mine,” he said softly. “You taste sweet and spicy and like someone who loves me.” All at once he had to clear his throat; another lump had appeared in it, and he suddenly found himself blinking back moisture. “I never thought I’d get to say that.”
“You thought you had a life ahead of you filled with meaningless sex, one night stands, and failed relationships, while you watched me go off with someone more worthy of my affections?” Once again he was struck dumb by just how well she knew him.
“I—damn, I can’t really refute that, can I? I thought I’d die—well, not alone, I'd die with friends in my life, but no-one who loved me just for being me.”
“For such an intelligent man, you’re a real daft haddock sometimes, Malcolm Reed.” Hoshi’s voice held deep affection, and he couldn’t find it in him to be indignant.
“I suppose I am.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be here to remind you how adored you are when you need it.”
“I can’t tell you how unutterably happy that makes me.”
“You don’t have to, because it makes me just as happy.” She reached up and kissed the tip of his nose. “Now, rogue, we should use the bathroom, clean up, and head to bed. We might be on a later shift tomorrow, but I think we need the rest. Especially after that outstanding performance.”
He dropped a kiss on her hair. “Very well, minx. You go first, and I’ll remake the bed.” He laid a finger against her lips as she opened them to protest. “Shh. I don’t want my love to lie in a wet spot that I caused, so I’m going to remove the problem. Got it?”
Those coffee-brown eyes delivered a combative glare, and he raised both eyebrows mildly as she narrowed her eyes. Finally she huffed and wrinkled her nose. “Alright, Mr. Bossy. You win. I see why you’re so good at intimidating people, with that cool stare.”
“Years of practise,” he said smugly. “Now, go on. The sooner we finish, the sooner I can go to sleep holding my beloved minx.”
Fifteen minutes later, ablutions completed, bed remade, and both wearing their t-shirts from earlier, Hoshi slipped between fresh sheets and held out her arms so Malcolm could join her. This time he slid down the bed so she could curve her arms around him and he could lay his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. She kissed his hair and he sighed and pulled her closer.
“Would you mind if we went to sleep like this?”
“I have the man I love in bed with me after an incredible night of pleasure. I’m more than happy to have you resting on me, if it’ll help you sleep, my love.”
He shifted to look up at her. “Will you say it? Just once? So I can hear it from your lips?”
“I’ll say it more than once. Every day, in fact. Even when you annoy the hell out of me, or I'm being a right cow, never forget that I love you, Malcolm Reed. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“And I love you, Hoshi Sato. Even when you’re being obstreperous—yes, don't act surprised, I can use big words, and you can certainly be an unruly minx—even then, and when I’m being a grouchy old tight-arse, that will never be in doubt.”
“Never.” She leaned down to kiss him, soft and chaste this time, thumb stroking the downy bit at the top of his cheek. “Now—sleep and snuggles. Good night, rogue.”
“Good night, minx. Sweet dreams.”