Not what you want.

By Alia

Disclaimer: The characters of Jonathan Archer and Malcolm Reed do not belong to me. They are only borrowed and will be returned as soon as I have finished with them. No disrespect or breach of copyright is intended.

Summary: We can't always get what we want but sometimes we can have what we need. Malcolm gives Jon what he needs but will he ever give Malcolm what he wants.

Warnings: Angst. M/M sex. If it bothers you then I strongly suggest you don't read it.

Authors Notes: This is my first attempt in the Enterprise universe.

Thanks: To Stormy, Helyn & PJ for checking this over for me.

Comments: Are welcome and can be sent to aliajones1999@yahoo.com

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With an animalistic groan of satisfaction and one final spine shattering thrust I feel his climax overtake him and the liquid heat of his release fill me. I close my eyes and welcome the weight of him as he collapses, exhausted, against my back, enjoying while I can the feel of him buried deep within me; being what he needs if not what he wants.

For several minutes we both rest; joined as only two men can be when they do not share the same heart, but all too quickly it seems I hear his breathing level out and feel him withdrawing from my body. The last of his warmth spills from me as he moves and I feel the loss of him as one would the loss of a vital part of their being. But even here, within the confines of his cabin and under these extraordinary circumstances I know my place and I let it all happen without complaint.

Starfleet does not allow for couples or for the sharing of beds and it is necessary to continually move to ensure each other's comfort. I open my eyes and roll over as soon as I realise that Jon is attempting to reposition himself at my side, tangling my limbs with his so that we can both attain a level of ease given the limited space. He stares at me in the dim light but after months of incidences such as this I have come to understand how difficult it can be for him to know what to say at this point.

We are not here to talk however and we both know he has Commander Tucker or Sub Commander T'Pol if conversation was what he needed.

I press myself closer to him, my neglected erection silently reminding him of the reason for this late night tryst and just how unnecessary words are between us. Physical need is all that matters, and our mutual satisfaction is all that concerns me - not what he does or does not say to me.

My gesture prompts an equally silent acknowledgment of understanding from him and as he cups the cheeks of my backside, pulling me nearer to him I lean in to claim his mouth and push forward with my hips, emphasising the very mutual element of our arrangement.

As expected Jonathan Archer responds to me as he does every other challenge that he has been faced with since we first met. With passion and a sense of determination that epitomises the man he is and which only serves to reinforce my reason for being here. It is why I love him and why I know that no matter what happens he will see us through it.

I revel in his strong arms and in the small sounds he makes as I caress him. He is older than I am; much older than any other sexual partner I have known, yet his body is muscular and well taken care of. Always a pleasure to touch and manipulate. His stamina is also high compared to many men half his age and he never ceases to amaze me as to how receptive he is to this.

Despite Jon's obvious enthusiasm he winces as our movements intensify but I know it is not because the feeling of my cock, hard and demanding against his own is unwelcome or strange to him. No, his discomfort is more from the strenuous work-out he has given us both.

The thought that even after all this time he still seeks to force rather than to simply enjoy what we share saddens me but until he decides otherwise there is little I can do to change the ideals of a man who has spent a lifetime loving women. While I am permitted to though, I will hold him tight, fuck his willing mouth and work myself against him as I do now.

Jon urges me on; gripping my backside and meeting me thrust for thrust but it quickly becomes apparent that the friction of our bodies is too painful for him to gain even the smallest amount of pleasure from it.

It is not what I want, and without a second thought to my needs I pull away, quickly rearranging us both so that there is no further discomfort for him.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm," he tells me as I settle him on his back. The words are whispered low, hardly audible to anyone who might not be paying close attention but I know they could be no less true if they were shouted aloud to each and every member of the crew.

"It's okay," I assure him. "If it was what you needed then there is no reason to apologize, love."

Right from the beginning he has never begrudged me my own release and for comfort's sake I straddle Jon's thighs and then take myself firmly in hand, stroking my length purposefully as I watch him lying quietly beneath me. I am as content to finish this way as any other but as I prefer an attentive, and not just a compliant partner I reach up to remove the arm he has slung across his eyes.

Our gazes meet as I lift his hand away from his face and all the various burdens he bears as Captain are laid open for me to see. It is not a sight seen by many but it is why I am here, I remind myself. Why I offered to give him what we all needed from time to time when regulations would not permit him to ask for himself. We are both aware it was not only my sense of duty that first brought me to his cabin long after our shifts had ended though. I made no secret of my feelings for him, or what I would accept in exchange. What I want from him is another story however, one best left for my fantasies or my nights alone I realise as I take in his serious expression.

I don't want to ask him if he would prefer that I left him alone now, though the thought to do so occurs to me in the instant before he reaches for me and draws me forward once more. I am forced to release the hold I have on my cock to accommodate him but I am not left wanting for long as his free hand quickly replaces my own.

With me kneeling over his prone body Jon kisses me soundly, working with the same determination that I have always enjoyed in his company to absolve himself for what I can imagine he perceives as a momentary lapse of concentration. It is not necessary though. I understand that until he is willing to let go of his misconceptions about same sex relationships I can only hope to provide him with a distraction. And he hadn't hurt me, even though it is clear his own efforts to achieve a desired distance from his many responsibilities have.

He can't change who he is and even if it were possible I would not want him to change for me. I know he does not love me. That I am not what he wants, just the one who gives him what he needs. Knowing does not stop me from wanting however, or from wishing that one-day he will love me, not as he is now, with his hands and body but with his heart.

Reaching between my legs, Jon uses the remaining evidence of his release to ease my own. He works me with a knowing grasp and whispering constant encouragement until I come hard, shooting my load over his chest, moaning his name and praying for the moment never to end.

We shower separately. He does not thank me, nor do I thank him. He has gotten what he needed and for a short time I have been the one to give it to him. I cannot complain. It was all I asked of him. All he is able to give right now. We exchange a last kiss at the door, albeit chaste and then I leave.

Neither of us will talk about what has happened but as I make my way back to my cabin I know there will be other visits to his. Other times for him to consider that with the right amount of understanding we could both have what we want and not just what we need.

The End

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