Where your heart will take us.

By Alia

Disclaimer: Paramount owns them.

Summary: Malcolm wakes to find himself in Jon’s bed.

Warning: Angst. Rated R

Author’s Notes: This story takes place immediately after With all my heart. Also, this is the last planned story for my ‘Give and Take’ series.

Thanks: To Mareel for picking up my typos and for always listening. Any mistakes you find are mine.

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

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Although the arm resting across my abdomen makes it difficult to think about anything other than my growing need to relieve myself, even when I consider all the time I have spent in Jonathan Archer’s bed, I know I never expected to wake up in it. Spending the entire night together was not a part of our arrangement. Not that I hadn’t indulged the odd fantasy about such an occurrence early in our liaison, or had we ever discussed the matter, it was simply understood that when we had finished whatever means of relief that had been chosen, I would leave.

Sexual release in all its manifestations was one thing, but sleeping together afterwards suggested an intimacy that Jon had made very clear he wasn’t interested in.

Okay, so perhaps everything between us wasn’t quite as cut and dry as it had been in the beginning. Despite the mission and the ongoing threat to earth Jon has mellowed a great deal towards me, and for a man who had professed no previous interest or experience in having a same sex partner he has developed a keen understanding of what gave us both the greatest satisfaction.  

I close my eyes and my mind, traitorous to the last, provides me with images of Jon as I had seen him only a few hours prior, poised and ready for me as I had approached his bed -- his arms reaching out to me, his eyes dark with need. Lips and hands expertly mapping my face, shoulders and chest when I positioned myself above him, only sliding downward to help guide my movements as I slowly impaled myself on his slick cock, his wanton words of encouragement, so unlike the commands he makes when we are on the bridge egging me on and ringing in my ears as I took him in as deeply as I could -- welcoming him home after what had felt like weeks of forced abstinence.

My body, as faithless and demanding as my wishful imagination stirs with the memory, my physical discomfort almost too painful to ignore now. I open my eyes again, inhaling the scent of the man who holds me prisoner, body and soul. We have come too far for me to allow myself to think that this was anything other than a time limited diversion to him. No matter the changes to our relationship, remaining would be a mistake, one I am not convinced Jon would forgive if he woke to find me still here.

I suck in a breath and hold it so that I can lift the arm holding me possessively and slip from his embrace.

Gathering my clothes I retreat to the bathroom to answer the call of nature that had woken me in the first place, and to dress. My plan is to return to my own cabin to shower, and if possible, to get another couple of hours sleep before I need to start my shift; there by maintaining the illusion for both our sakes that everything between us was the same.

In theory it is a good plan, and it may very well have worked if not for one small detail.

Dressed once again in the civilian clothing I had worn here I exit Jon’s small bathroom to a sight that both stops me in my tracks and sends my mind reeling.  The sleeping form that I had left moments earlier is now sitting up right and regarding me quizzically across the minimally lit room.

“Are you leaving?” he asks.

I would have thought that was obvious given the fact that I shouldn’t still be here, but I don’t say so. I am still trying to work out how I can salvage what little remains of my dignity. Nothing comes to mind though and for a moment or two I consider pretending as if I haven’t heard him. Perhaps if I don’t answer he will think that he is dreaming and go back to sleep. It is a risk worth taking, I decide, and I take another step towards the door.

“Malcolm.”

I want to sink through the deck plating and disappear, but as neither is a realistic option I pause once again and raise my eyes to the man calling my name.

“I need to get some sleep,” I tell him; hoping he will leave it at that.

The minimal lighting in the cabin makes Jon’s expression unreadable and with no other alternative I simply wait to see what else, if anything, he has to say to me. There is nothing immediately forthcoming and I release the breath I had been holding since I left the bathroom, relived that although it is still too difficult to tell for sure, Jon doesn’t seem overly annoyed finding me here. I offer him a shy smile through the darkness and move towards the bed.

My intention is to kiss him before I go. As I am never quite sure when we will be able to meet again like this, and none of us know what tomorrow will bring, it is best I have discovered to always leave Jon as if it maybe the last time. I don’t want to dwell on the fact that this might actually be the case on this particular occasion, but I am not prepared to chance it.   

Jon seems to have other ideas though and carefully avoids me as I lean down, instead taking a hold of my lower arm, caressing the bear skins beneath his finger tips with an intensity and purpose I cannot fathom under the circumstances.

“You can sleep here,” he says.

To be honest, I am not sure I have heard him correctly. His touch is very distracting and I am far too preoccupied by it to answer or to even resist when he pulls me back down on to the bed beside him. For untold moments I lay very still, trapped by his gaze and the warmth generated by the hand gently stroking the length of my arm.

Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurs to me that I must be the one dreaming and I close my eyes momentarily trying to dispel the images around me. Opening them again makes no difference of course; Jon is still watching me closely – almost affectionately I would think if I didn’t know any better.

The whole situation is a little strange, not at all what I am used to, but before I can ask him if he is okay he leans forward and kisses me. Jon’s lips are soft and warm from sleep and despite my growing confusion I respond to him accordingly, lifting my arms to circle is waist and simply giving myself over to whatever he needs from me.

Sexual chemistry has never been a problem for us and as I move my hands down to his bum and Jon deepens the kiss I note his growing arousal gently nudging my thigh, unlike any other occasion though, I find him pulling back. Slightly breathless as he smiles down at me, his hands moving to dislodge my shirt from my slacks and to burrow beneath the light fabric to stroke over my abdomen. I am almost fully aroused myself but his feather light touch tickle and I reach down to still his hands. Jon’s head comes up, no doubt misunderstanding my intention and our eyes meet once again in the dark.

“Is something wrong?”

I shake my head no “It tickles.” I explain.

As Captain of the Enterprise Jon smiles so infrequently that it is difficult to believe he could ever be happy, right now though that is exactly how he appears. I have no idea what has come over him but it doesn’t matter, I decide. If this is what he wants then I am not going to spoil the moment by asking questions. Life was far too short – too uncertain.

I release Jon’s hand and he renews his efforts with added enthusiasm. In spite of the fact that I haven’t showered since the last time we made love I let him undress me again and then take me in his mouth.

Watching as Jon moves up and down my length I run my fingers through his hair and slide my legs over his shoulders to give him better access, marveling at the very welcome adjustment to our arrangement and the level of skill he uses to bring me to the brink so quickly.

It feels incredible, hot and moist inside his mouth. I lean my head back, attempting to stave off the inevitable but it is no use. I also try to call out and warn him as I feel my climax approach, but this too proves to be a pointless exercise because Jon does not pull away as I expect him to. Instead he simply hums appreciatively around me, egging me on, and then swallows all of what I have to offer.

I am too caught up in the throws of my orgasm to contemplate the uniqueness of this moment. Waiting until I am finished Jon releases me with the utmost care and sits back a little on the bed, giving me time to recover I suspect, before he slips both my legs from his shoulders and then moves up my body to kiss me. It is a very long time since I tasted myself on a lovers tongue or felt so cherished. Using one hand to guide me Jon cups the back of my head and other to gently caress my jaw as his lips move against my own. I want to cry from the intensity of it, but I am not sure why.

I would be more than happy for the kiss to never end but eventually Jon pulls back. He is not smiling now and for a very brief moment it occurs to me that he is as moved as I am by what is taking place between us.

“Tell me?” I whisper, reaching up to stroke his cheek and to pass a thumb across his still moist lips.  

“I love you.”

The rational and objective part of my brain says that I should be careful, but my heart won’t hear of it. God knows I have waited and hoped for too long to discard his words simply because I never really thought I would hear him say them.  

I drop my hand back down to the bed, too stunned to know, what if anything, I should say or do. Thankfully Jon seems to understand my reaction.

“I know I said I only wanted the release, no ties or commitment, but things have changed. I’ve changed, Malcolm.”

Although I am very heartened that Jon is finally acknowledging the many changes that have taken place since I first started coming to him, and it is obvious that he has more to say, I don’t try to rush him. I do, however, want to reassure him that my feelings have not altered in the least, or are they likely to anytime soon. “That’s understandable;” I tell him, “we can’t stay the same men forever, not when there is so much changing around us. I have always loved you Jon and I’ll be whatever you need me to be, companion or lover.”

The look relief on Jon’s face makes all the months of uncertainty suddenly worthwhile. I reach up to stroke his cheek again, only to find my hand caught this time, and a kiss pressed to its palm.

“I want to make love to you, Malcolm. Will you let me do that?”

The evidence of Jon’s desire is currently nestled between my thighs and although I think we should probably talk about this some more I nod my acceptance without a second thought. He releases my hand after that and I reach behind me for the tube of lubricant that I know is still hidden beneath the pillows and hand it to him.

I close my eyes while he prepares us both, but open them again as he gently urges me to roll on to my side and draw my knees to my chest. The next few moments are spent ensuring my comfort as Jon molds his body to my own and then, lacing our fingers together, slowly pushes inside of me. I have lost count of the amount times he has taken me this way, but never have I felt so willing to just let go and follow wherever his heart will take us.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but then again, none of us do.

End

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