All that I Need.
Disclaimer: The characters of Captain Jonathan Archer &
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed do not belong to me, they are only borrowed
for the purpose of this piece of fan fiction and no money has changed
Summary: Captain Archer gets his needs met, but is there someone
still left wanting?
Warnings: This story is slash, rated NC17 for m/m sex and some
Authors notes: This is the companion story for "Not what you want"
Basically this is the same story from Jon's point of view.
Thanks: To Stormy for her betaing skills.
Comments: Are welcome and can be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org
I'm not going to last. One more thrust is all it takes and then my
control along with everything else around me shatters. I'm flying.
Riding the wind. Free.
The feeling of complete freedom doesn't last very long, though
while it does nothing in this quadrant or the next matters. No one
expects anything from me. There are no demands, and as promised, the
warm body that still holds me like a hand within a perfectly fitting
silken glove has answered the ones of my own. But all to soon it
seems the responsibilities I have shed out of both necessity and
physical need crowd in around me and I feel myself falling again,
landing hard against the sweat covered back of the one who has
provided my reprieve.
Despite the intensity of my release and the undeniable pleasure I
have derived from it the lack of smooth curves and gentler scents
still strikes me as odd even after all this time. I cut my recovery
short, telling myself it's so I can enjoy the lingering affects of my
climax more comfortably; wondering as I separate from my lover and
settle myself beside him if I will ever get used to thinking of
Malcolm that way. Technically I know that we are not lovers, that I
would have to be in love with him for the term to be justly applied
here. Though there are times, fleeting moments such as the ones we
have just shared when the thought provides me with a sense of comfort
that I had not expected to feel when I first agreed to this.
Frankly I don't know what to make of it all sometimes, least of
all what I should say to him when he stares at me as he is now. This
relationship between us that seems to have grown out of a combination
of both our needs goes against all Starfleet regulations and
everything I have ever thought about myself before, leaving me at a
loss at how to explain it.
Something in his gaze says it does not matter, that we're not here
to talk, but still I wish there was a way to make him understand that
I do care about him, that he gives me what I need. There are of
course other ways to show my appreciation and as Malcolm gently
reminds me that we are a long way from being finished here I take the
opportunity to do what I can't seem to say.
Pulling him toward me, he kisses me with a passion that takes my
breath away, and that I wouldn't have believed he possessed if I
hadn't had first hand experience with it myself.
Although I'd be hard pressed to admit it to anyone, Malcolm has
had the helm in this from the very first time he came to my cabin
offering more than one of his systems reports and as he takes charge
completely I can do little more than enjoy the ride. Driving his hips
forcibly forward, he is searching I realise for a rhythm that I have
come to understand transcends age and orientation.
I grip his ass, squeezing firmly and encouraging him to move
against me, to find whatever rhythm he needs, whispering phases of
assurance that I can't ever recall using in the past, powerless it
seems to do anything but to respond to his taste and touch. I am not
sure why it's so easy to let go with him? Or why being with him like
this feels as if I am rewriting myself a little more each time that
we are together?
There is no disputing that the sex is hot. Just what the doctor
ordered, my mind remarks absently. Though at the time he had brought
it up I doubt Phlox meant that I should release my sexual frustration
in exactly this manner. It's less primal than I imagined it would be
and as I urge Malcolm on, meeting each thrust of his hips with an
answering one of my own I begin to regret that I ever thought it
Always alert, Malcolm doesn't miss what I had hoped to keep from
him. Without saying a word about what we both know is a result of my
'get it done, get it over with attitude' he pulls out of my arms and
rearranges us so that I am lying on my back and he is sitting astride
The new position gives me instant relief and judging from the
faint sounds of Malcolm stroking himself it hasn't slowed him down at
all. I am relieved on both counts but I also feel pretty foolish
right now and I can't bring myself to look him. I try to apologize,
only he tells me it's okay, that if acting like an unfeeling jerk was
what I wanted then there is nothing to be sorry for. Of course he
doesn't call me a jerk. He wouldn't. Not Malcolm. Not the man who put
aside his own strict code of conduct to come to me and admit he had
developed feelings for his commanding officer. Citing every related
protocol he had then offered what no one else would or could, given
my position and our mission.
I sigh at the memory, trying to relax and enjoy Malcolm's
undemanding company but so much has happened since we first set out
on our journey of exploration that my mind wanders of its own accord.
Some things I had anticipated and was ready for. God, after years of
dealing with the Vulcans I knew for instances that you couldn't
encounter new species and cultures without pissing at least one or
two of them off. But there are other things. The continual life and
death situations and glimpses into Earth's future that I don't think
anything could have prepared me for. I wonder sometimes if I will
get used to Daniel's visits or being responsible for the growing
number of lives, or if simply getting used to it is what I need to do
to get the job done.
Even before my mind notes the shifting of his weight and the arm
that I have slung across my eyes is carefully lifted away to reveal
Malcolm's searching gaze I know that this is not the time or place to
be having such thoughts. He doesn't say anything, but I can see it in
his eyes, he knows I haven't been paying attention, and now he's not
sure if I want him here or not, even though we are both aware that
this is why he comes to me. Still, I chide myself it shouldn't be
like this. I know that I haven't promised him anything. I can't, and
not just because he's a man or a subordinate. I can't commit to
anything while Enterprise needs her Captain, which I guess, will be
as long as Starfleet believes that I'm the man for the job. I also
know that I am under no more an obligation to him than I am to anyone
else under my command but I wonder how that can be true. How can I be
with him and not feel responsible when he's the one who gives me all
that I need?
Reaching out to him I guide him forward, grateful that he moves
willingly into my arms and welcoming the warmth of his body as he
kneels over me. Kissing him soundly I then reach between us to take a
firm hold of the swollen heat still needing attention. He moans
around my mouth as I touch him, working him in much the same way I
would myself. Alternating my upward and downward stroke and squeezing
a little at the crown I set about repaying my part of our agreement.
It's not a difficult task, for all his protests about proper
procedures and discipline Malcolm is as uninhibited as any man I have
ever met, and in spite of my own beliefs being with him is always a
We may not be lovers in the technical sense and yet when we're
together like this it seems only right to think of him as if we were.
He tells me he loves me and though I can't say the same the thought
that one day he may be asked to die for me gives me no comfort at
all. There are no words to explain what his coming here has meant to
me, none that I could ever say aloud to him or anyone else but
something tells me that if the day ever came, if I lost him, then I
would mourn him as I have no other man in my life.
It's a sobering thought, one that I find gives new importance to
my ministrations and to my need to make this as satisfying for him as
he has always made our times together for me; freeing me in a way I
can't quite comprehend and don't want to right now. I reach further
between Malcolm's legs to gather the remains of my own release to
ease his, whispering to him what I am doing and why. His reaction is
immediate and exactly what I had hoped for and as I increase the
speed of my stroke, adding a few more words of encouragement he comes
hard, moaning my name as his warmth floods across my chest.
I keep up the slow pumping of Malcolm's cock until he is
completely spent and then wrap both my arms around his narrow waist,
silently encouraging him to relax and to let me support him while he
catches his breath. For a moment or two he accepts, resting the full
weight of his body against me, still trembling a little, though as
the moments pass so it seems does his desire to let me hold him. I
understand his reasons, why it's easier for him not to become too
comfortable here and I don't try to stop him as pulls out of my arms
and then slips from my bed without saying a word to me.
We take turns showering and when it is time for Malcolm to leave I
walk him to the door of my cabin. It seems silly considering my
living space amounts to no more than few square yards at the most,
but appropriate all the same. I'm never sure how to act around him
afterwards. I briefly consider saying thank you but even rehearsing
the words in my own mind sounds like I am praising him for services
rendered and I know being with me means so much more to him than
that. I settle for a kiss, which he accepts and returns though it
pales in comparison to the ones that he had given me earlier tonight.
Usually I am out to it within minutes of one Malcolm's visits but
it seem like ages that I simply lay awake after he's gone, thinking
about him - thinking about us.
Website Design and Code Alia 2003