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Shuttlepod One	By : TwinOfDoom Category: Star Trek > Enterprise Views: 2104 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise and all characters, treknology and settings belong to their rightful owners. I am not making any money off the writing of this story. Just having fun.

Chapter List
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This is my first Star Trek Fanfiction. I've been a Trekkie all my life, but until today, I couldn't really make myself write this story. I just really love the chemistry between Trip and Malcolm (even though I also like Trip and T'Pol).
Writing this felt a bit awkward in places, since I based it on an episode that I don't currently have in my possession, so I'm sure I got some stuff wrong, but I hope you'll forgive me. Also, I hope I managed to keep Trip and Malcolm in character as far as possible.
Please let me know what you think. :)
***
Trip had obviously intended for the alcohol to have a calming effect on Malcolm, but there was only so much calm that could be attained when trapped in a shuttlepod with an annoyingly positive Chief Engineer and the air running out. They had decided to lower the cabin temperature to maximise the time they would have to live, but Malcolm still felt horrible, not being able to do anything to get them out of this situation. Pacing the cramped space wasn’t helping much, either, but it was better than sitting still and glowering at each other.
For a while, the commander simply stared into space, trying to ignore his agitated shipmate, but finally, he seemed unable to take it any longer. In a split second, Trip shot up, gripping Malcolm and effectively bringing him to a halt.
„You do know that the oxygen supply will be depleted much sooner if we continue to exert ourselves? “ It was a moot point and they both knew it. Enterprise was less than likely to show up in time to save them from suffocation. A few minutes less would hardly make a difference. He suddenly became aware that Trip’s hands still gripped the sides of Malcolm’s head, pulling slightly at his raven hair in the process. Malcolm had always envied the other man’s apparent strength, his muscular arms and torso. Now that he felt those same parts of his colleague’s anatomy so close to his body, he couldn’t help the pang of arousal that rushed through him. Their lips met before either of them had time to second-guess the action. Having never kissed a man before, Malcolm was surprised by Trip’s gentleness, the smoothness of his whiskey-flavoured lips. Releasing a pent-up breath, Malcolm closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, letting his hands rest on the commander’s shoulders for the moment. Something in him was still compelling him to respect the chain of command. Military family, indeed. Trip seemed quite happy to lead, sliding one hand back to linger between Malcolm’s shoulder blades while his tongue sought entrance. There was desperation in that kiss, bittersweet and palpable, but somehow that made it taste that much more special. At the moment, Trip was trying to manoeuvre them onto one of the narrow bunks, but inebriation and the cold still prevailing in the pod made it harder than expected and he only succeeded in pulling Malcolm down onto the floor with him. Finally, the commander broke the kiss with an awkward laugh, sitting back on his heels.
“Guess whoever designed these things didn’t expect to have two senior officers making out in here.”
Malcolm scoffed slightly. “I wouldn’t think so. If Starfleet got wind of this, you’d probably get a reprimand for abuse of command.”
Trip laughed. “Can’t you just imagine Admiral Forest’s face if he had to bring Soval up to speed on our away mission?”
They both burst out laughing.
“His Vulcan mind would probably implode,” sniggered Malcolm, welcoming the momentary change of topic. As pleasant as that kiss had been, it was undoubtedly the result of their dire circumstances. Clearing his throat gruffly, he got up off the floor of the Shuttle and sat down on one of the bunks. To his considerable surprise, Trip did the same, his expression one of slight confusion, but also determination as he sat down next to Malcolm.
“I hope I’m not out of line here, Malcolm, but I kinda liked that.”
Malcolm felt his mouth go dry. “Not at all, Sir.”
Trip cleared his throat. “I understand that things could get awkward if we do get rescued, but honestly, I’d rather ... keep doing ... this, than just sit around waiting for death. So, what do you say, Lieutenant?” There was a challenging twinkle in his eye that Malcolm had sometimes seen during Trip’s frequent arguments with T’Pol. Somehow, in this surreal situation, it made his pulse race and his face flush. Moistening his lips unconsciously, Malcolm mustered a cheeky grin.
“I don’t know, Sir. We might still die ...” With that, Malcolm closed what little distance there had been between them and reclaimed his commander’s lips in a kiss more passionate than anything he’d imagined himself capable of. He was weirdly pleased with himself when he felt Trip’s surprise. The engineer soon recovered, however, and took control, pulling the shorter man on top of him. It was Malcolm’s turn to be astonished at the hardness he felt thrusting up through his shipmate’s uniform, and even more so at his own erection that strained against his overall.
“Are we about to ...?” Malcolm gasped, feeling the commander bite his neck.
“Dunno. All I know is I’m glad you shaved after all.”
They both laughed at that, recalling their earlier fight about how their bodies would look when Enterprise found them. Those cares seemed far away now, as Malcolm undid the zipper at the front of Trip’s uniform and slid his hands inside, relishing the strange and unfamiliar feeling of hard muscle under his touch. Trip closed his eyes and ran his hands along Malcolm’s thighs, gripping his hips appreciatively. With a questioning gaze to make sure Trip hadn’t changed his mind, Malcolm unbuttoned the black uniform shirt and pushed it down over the blond man’s shoulders along with the overall, admiring the smooth skin that move revealed. Again, he was gripped by something like envy at those muscles, and some impulse made him run his tongue along the cleft between Trip’s pecs. The commander’s eyes flew open in surprise, probably at his reserved colleague’s boldness, but instead of stopping Malcolm, he brought his hand up to tangle in the tactical officer’s hair. Some part of him wondered how far they would go ... how far they could go and still be able to look each other in the eye in the unlikely case that Enterprise had seen the explosion Trip had created as a beacon. Those thoughts were interrupted, however, by the strangest desire to get them both naked. Would the commander still go along with that? Or would Malcolm have crossed some random line? Trip must have sensed his dilemma and made the decision for him. With an ease that astonished Malcolm, he quickly stripped off as much of his shipmate’s clothing as their position allowed and slid one of his hands determinedly down Malcolm’s chest and stomach to finally make contact with his heated member. A ragged moan fought its way out of Malcolm’s throat at the touch. They had talked a great deal about their past conquests, most of that in the past few days in this pod, but seeing the other in action, as it were, was unbelievably more exciting than either of them could have imagined.
Somehow, suddenly, this felt like more than two people desperately trying to alleviate the stress of imminent death. The way his cock twitched at his CO’s touch, the way the stronger man sighed when Malcolm buried his face in his neck to stifle his moan ... this was a whole new level of intimacy. In a rush of confidence, Malcolm hurriedly stripped out of his uniform altogether, facing Trip just in his briefs. The appraising look that crossed the commander’s face, before he too stepped out of his uniform, made Malcolm tingle pleasantly. He had always enjoyed praise and the way Trip had regarded him just then felt so damn good.
For a moment they just stood there in their underwear, and Malcolm had a sudden vision of one of Enterprise’s other shuttles docking with them and of Captain Archer and T’Pol poking their heads in to see them like that – both sporting raging hard-ons as they stared at each other hungrily. The image almost cracked him up, but he quickly controlled himself, torn between jumping the commander’s bones and getting dressed and pretending none of that had even happened.
Just like before, it was Trip who took the initiative, pulling Malcolm back toward the bunk, sinking down on it and reconnecting their lips with a deep groan that succeeded in wiping away all of Malcolm’s doubt. Throwing caution to the winds, he settled more comfortably against Trip, his hands roaming over the soft expanses of his chest and stomach; then, with a final mental push, he slipped one of his hands down under the waistband of Trip’s briefs, touching him gingerly. With something that sounded a lot like a growl of frustration, Trip reached down and made sure that Malcolm’s grip was firm enough. Trip might be younger than him, but he was obviously less inhibited, perhaps even more experienced? The thought of Trip being with another man, maybe even the captain, suddenly made him impossibly hard, and he had to steer his thoughts away from that tantalising imagine to avoid bringing this exploration to an early end. To distract himself, he focused on the feeling of Trip’s lips against his own, his tongue gliding over his, and the silky smoothness of the American’s shaft in his hand as Trip bucked his hips in an effort to get Malcolm to move his hand.
“Come on, Malcolm. Don’t make me give you an order,” he gasped against Malcolm’s mouth, although it came out sounding more like a plea than a request.
Malcolm felt himself grin wolfishly, as he started moving his hand in an excruciatingly slow motion. “You’d honestly pull rank on me, just to get off? That sounds awfully desperate, don’t you think, Sir?”
Trip broke into a grin himself, and caught at Malcolm’s lower lip with his teeth. “Careful, Lieutenant! Any more cheek like that and I’ll have to put it in your permanent record.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that ...,” Malcolm allowed, and finally picked up his speed a little, making Trip give such an exquisite moan that Malcolm couldn’t help the jerk of his hips that pressed his erection into Trip’s. The commander’s kisses grew deeper and fiercer as Malcolm found Trip’s rhythm, his moans mingling with Malcolm’s own. A small part of his mind noticed with surprise that Trip had hardly touched him and nonetheless he was already dangerously close to the edge, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to not give himself over to the sensations.
Raking his fingernails over Trip’s back, he increased his speed one last time, as he came with a grunt which he tried to stifle by biting down on the commander’s neck. The mix of pleasure and pain pushed Trip over as well, and Malcolm felt him spasm next to him, as hot sticky wetness spread over his fingers.
The moment that followed was too delicate for words. At least for Malcolm, it was a confusing mess of sated aftermath and desperately awkward silence. Malcolm half hoped that the pod would decompress right that second, sparing him the conversation that was bound to follow. Another part of him felt oddly safe lying so intimately next to a man with whom he wouldn’t even have discussed his favourite food just a short while ago.
After another few seconds, Malcolm cleared his throat in a way that voiced his discomfort more clearly than words, and carefully retrieved his hand from inside his shipmate’s briefs. He tried not to think about the fact that Trip was his superior officer, or about the frequent breakfasts and dinners that Trip and the captain shared. Such a topic might come up eventually. With these Americans, there was no way of knowing what they were comfortable discussing with one another. As his thoughts whirled around on such tracks, he cast around the room for something to wipe his hand with, when he suddenly became aware of Trip’s eyes on him. There was a curious expression on his face, part worried, part amused. When their gazes met, the commander broke into a sheepish grin. “Seriously, Malcolm! Looking at you, I could think you’d just helped me commit a murder. What’s the matter?” Pulling his jumpsuit back on, Trip kept his eyes on Malcolm, who felt his earlier anxiety creeping back on him. “Gee, if you don’t sit down, you’ll wear a hole in the deck plating and we’ll die even sooner.” Trip’s voice held most of his usual cheerfulness, but there was also an underlying tone of anger in it.
Malcolm heaved a loud sigh, his hand reaching to massage his temples before he remembered its current state and let it sink with a sudden resigned laugh. “You have no idea how awkward I’m feeling right now! I was just hoping for a hull breach to put me out of my misery. I mean ...,” he gestured half-heartedly between the two of them, “... isn’t this going to be mortifying? Just imagine being in Decon together ...”
Face uncharacteristically serious, Trip got up and stopped Malcolm from pacing, locking eyes. “Stop that! Firstly, are you ever gonna do something about that hand?” With a wry look, Malcolm wiped his hand on his briefs, while Trip watched him intently. “Is this really such a big deal for you?” he went on, his eyes never leaving Malcolm’s face, searching for the truth in the Englishman’s expression.
The familiar scoff was back. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t make a habit of snogging my commanding officers while waiting for a ship that might or might not come to save us. I find it deeply disturbing how easy it was for you to get me to -”
That made colour rise in Trip’s cheeks. “Whoa, hold your horses! I got you to kiss me? It takes two to tango ... or in that case, make out.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to calm his temper, then took a deep breath. “Never mind. I’m not even gonna go there. Way I see it, we’re in a pretty difficult situation and we both needed some stress relief. Now, I can only speak for myself, but I liked it. Doesn’t mean we have to do it again, doesn’t mean we have to feel bad about it.”
Trip’s blunt assessment of what had happened helped calm (subdue) Malcolm a little. He heaved a sigh of relief and sat down heavily on the bunk opposite of where Trip stood. “You’re right, I guess. Every cadet has heard tales of officers getting trapped somewhere, usually with a pretty violent twist. This isn’t any different. It’s not as if we’re attracted to each other, right? We can just forget this ever happened and move on.”
As decisive as his voice sounded, Malcolm couldn’t stop a blush from creeping into his cheeks as his eyes fell on the commander’s chest that was still exposed. Mortified, he noticed that Trip was well aware of his reaction and that one of his trademark smirks was already spreading on his face, when suddenly the com crackled.
They rushed for the consoles, hope surging through Malcolm that this away mission hadn’t been his last after all.
-
It had taken Enterprise an excruciatingly long time to reach them after they had re-established contact, and they must have both lost consciousness, for when Malcolm opened his eyes, Captain Archer and T’Pol were looking down at him. He recognised the sounds and smells of sickbay immediately, and the events of the past few days came rushing back to him, making his cheeks go warm. He found that he couldn’t remember anything after being raised by the ship. Had he and Trip finished their talk? Heart beating quickly, he tried to sit up to look around for the commander, but was pushed back down firmly. “You cut it pretty close out there,” the captain chided, concern betraying his usual unruffled manner. “We almost didn’t get to you in time.”
Malcolm reluctantly settled back against the pillow. His head felt ready to split down the middle. “How’s Trip – er, Commander Tucker? I can’t really remember what happened after we got the com back.”
Archer smiled. “Trip is just fine. As a matter of fact, he’s already been discharged. I believe he was eager to get a change of uniform.”
Malcolm fought down another blush at the thought of just what had happened to get those uniforms so dirty and how Phlox must have wondered at the stains.
“Commander Tucker informs us that you will be compiling a full report, while he will make the necessary repairs to the shuttlepod.” While T’Pol talked, Malcolm found himself studying her features and Captain Archer’s, looking for signs that what had transpired in that pod had already gotten through to them somehow. Satisfied for now that they remained oblivious, he nodded his approval and the two of them left sickbay, giving Malcolm over to the care of Doctor Phlox.
“Why so glum, Lieutenant?” he asked, injecting Malcolm with an analgesic. “You don’t even have to stay here for observation, as far as I’m concerned. I suggest you go catch up with Mr Tucker, get those missing memories back. Sometimes, certain engrams can get lost in the heat of the moment, as they say.” Chuckling happily, Phlox went to one of his shelves to put away the hypospray, while Malcolm got dressed hurriedly and was about to leave, when Phlox called after him. “Wait, Lieutenant! If you happen to see Mr Tucker later on, why don’t you give him this, hm?” He held out a small tube containing some salve or ointment. Malcolm accepted it with a puzzled look, then nodded. “Sure, what should I tell him that it’s for?”
Phlox smiled one of his too-wide smiles and affected an air of nonchalance. “Oh, this should take care of those bothersome scratches and the bruises on his neck. He didn’t mention any discomfort and I didn’t say anything in front of the captain, but I know a love bite when I see one. They can be pretty painful. Have a nice day, Lieutenant!”
Stammering incoherently, Malcolm left sickbay rather stiffly. He was going to have to find out how that talk had played out.
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Shuttlepod One