kageygirl

Enterprise slash

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Enterprise kageygirl

Storm Front

Title: Storm Front

Author: kageygirl

E-mail: kageygirl@gmail.com

URL: http://www.kageygirl.com

Fandom: Enterprise

Pairing: Tucker/Reed

Rating: NC-17

Category: Slash

Summary: PWP. Rain. Really, that's it.

Comments: Nice, light, happy fic. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine. You can't have them! Oh, and, Hi all. Consider this my official delurking. ;) "Mad Dogs and Englishmen" belongs to Noel Coward. I am not he.

When Trip was little and a storm blew in off the Gulf of Mexico, he liked to sit at the window and press his nose against the wire screen to watch the rain pound down. Lightning would streak across the sky, and the thunder would shake the whole house on its foundation, making the windows rattle in their frames. He'd always jump a little, even though he knew the thunder was coming, because the crack-boom was momentous enough that being prepared didn't stop him from reacting. Ever since then, the smell of rain gave him a shiver of anticipation, of primal forces about to be set loose.

Here on this alien world, the approaching storm somehow smelled the same—with every breath he took, the knot in his chest drew a little tighter, as he and Malcolm hurried to load the equipment onto the shuttlepod before the storm broke. The other pod was already off, winging its way back to the Enterprise; the two of them had been deep enough exploring the abandoned mine that T'Pol hadn't been able to reach them earlier to tell them of the storm, which now moved with single-minded intensity towards them.

It should have been early afternoon, but the sky was growing dark and ominous. A cold breeze whipped up, and Trip shivered, as much from the chill as from the expectancy. Malcolm glanced over at him in concern as he hefted a case of soil samples, and Trip shrugged ruefully. "Gonna be a hell of a show."

Malcolm gave him that half-smile, and Trip took a moment to appreciate that his eyes matched the lowering skies perfectly. "We're going to have front-row seats in a moment." He brushed past Trip, and the engineer felt a new tension in his chest—an old one, really, one that flared up regularly around Malcolm. He tightened his grip on the case of mineral samples in his hands and headed for the shuttle.

The rain caught them on their last load. Heavy, fat drops pelted down, and Trip hurried inside. Malcolm was a little ways behind him, and he handed a tricorder case to Trip as he climbed inside. Water streamed down his face, and he wiped a sleeve across his forehead as he turned to look back out the open hatch.

Trip brushed the rain off his own face and moved to the controls of the shuttle. The rain coursed down the viewport in a continuous sheet. "Tucker to Enterprise."

"Enterprise here. Go ahead, Commander." T'Pol's impassive voice was in sharp contrast to the violence of the storm outside.

"Malcolm and I are all packed up, but I don't want to risk flyin' in this weather. We're gonna sit it out in the shuttle."

"Understood. Sensors indicate that the storm should leave the area in approximately one hour, given its current rate of progress."

"Gotcha. We'll see you in a bit, then, Enterprise. Tucker out." He thumbed off the switch and turned back to Malcolm, who was sitting on the deck by the still-open hatch. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to come in out of the rain?"

Malcolm shifted a little so that Trip could sit down next to him. They both stared out at the trees being tossed by the wind, the clearing that was rapidly becoming a muddy field. "Technically, I am out of the rain. The storm is out there, and we're in here."

A gust blew raindrops onto them both, and Trip shook his head as he wiped his eyes again. "I'd say it's tauntin' you."

"Well, it doesn't know who it's dealing with, then. The British have had more than enough experience dealing with inclement weather."

"Yeah, mad dogs and Englishmen." Trip nudged Malcolm with his shoulder. He decided that he liked the warmth soaking in through the wet cloth, and left his shoulder leaning against the other man. Malcolm didn't seem to mind.

"That's 'the midday sun,' not a midday storm."

"Nah, I recognize the signs, an' that's definitely a midday storm out there." Malcolm shook his head in gentle exasperation, and a drop of water trailed from his hairline down the side of his face. Trip watched it disappear into his collar with a tiny twinge of jealousy. "Y'know, I never understood that. They used to say the sun never set on the British Empire, but considerin' how much it rains in England, shouldn't it be that the sun never rose on the British Empire?"

Malcolm gave him a look of mock asperity. Trip could recognize the difference, now, having watched the signs for a while. The tiniest twitch of his lips gave away the smile that Malcolm was trying to hide. "Are you quite finished demeaning my heritage?"

"Not by a long shot, but I can put it on hold for now."

"Terribly thoughtful of you."

"Hey, I'm just an accommodatin' kinda guy." Trip gave his best good ole' boy grin, and Malcolm snorted in disbelief. He looked out the hatch in time to see a brilliant flash of lightning split the sky, and the thunderclap that followed on its heels sent a tremor through his body. Malcolm glanced over at him, tiny lines of worry forming between his brows.

"Are you all right?"

"Oh, yeah." Trip sat up a little straighter, breathing in deeply. "I've always loved storms, ever since I was a kid. All that sound an' fury would get my blood pumping. Drove my mama crazy, 'cause I'd be runnin' around the house for hours, tryin' ta burn off the excess energy."

"I hope you're not planning to run around the shuttlepod for the next hour. I might be forced to restrain you, for my own sanity."

Trip looked over at Malcolm sharply, his mind going all kinds of unfortunate places at that comment. Those stormy eyes were dilated, and he watched Malcolm's nostrils flare as he took a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't the only one who got off on wild weather.

"I can think of better things to do with our time and energy." Trip leaned in, ever so slowly, though his heart was pounding in his chest. Malcolm didn't move away, and Trip pressed a kiss to his lips. Chilly, in the aftermath of the soaking they'd received, and Malcolm tasted of rain. Thunder rumbled in through the open hatch, and Trip pressed forward, his control slipping as his body tried to match the storm's intensity with its own. Malcolm reached up and gripped his head with both hands, pulling him closer, bringing them both down to the deck. His mouth was warm, a sweet contrast to the chill, and Trip felt a groan moving its way up from his chest.

He had to pull away for breath, but looking down at Malcolm made breathing nearly impossible. His face was flushed, his hair was curling a little in the dampness, and that little twist was back on his lips, the one that blocked out coherent thought. Malcolm reached up a hand to ruffle the damp hair off of Trip's forehead, and the smile finally broke out across his face. "So what, exactly, was your idea for passing the time?"

Trip ducked his head and chuckled. "Seems to have slipped mah mind." He leaned down and kissed Malcolm again, loving the way his arms slid around Trip's back, as naturally as could be. He nuzzled Malcolm's cheek, then murmured into his ear, "I guess I'll just have to make it up as I go."

"Starfleet does encourage creativity…and resourcefulness…" Malcolm's voice became breathy as Trip turned his attention to finding the drop of water he had followed before, licking his way down Malcolm's neck. With one hand, he slid the zipper on Malcolm's uniform all the way down, slipping his hand under the T-shirt to rest on that muscled stomach. Malcolm was giving off enough heat that Trip was surprised his clothes weren't steaming dry right on his body.

Trip decided that they weren't going to get that chance. Malcolm must have been thinking along the same lines, because he sat up and struggled out of the sleeves of the jumpsuit just in time for Trip to strip the T-shirt over his head. This brought them close enough for another kiss, and Trip, never one to buck Providence when she was being such a sweetheart, made the most of the opportunity.

Trip placed a hand on Malcolm's chest, and felt his heart beating fast under the skin. He leaned down to nibble on a collarbone, and Malcolm slowly slumped down, as if fighting gravity, his hand coming up to thread through Trip's hair. He kissed his way down Malcolm's chest, breathing in the damp heat coming off of him, the scents of rain and wet fabric and a certain spiciness, the same scent that tormented him every time he leaned over Malcolm's shoulder at the tactical station. Which was, of course, why he kept doing it.

He cupped Malcolm through his briefs, pressing down with his fingers and listening to the hiss as Malcolm arched his hips. Sliding his hand under the waistband, he found the center of all that warmth. He freed Malcolm's cock, stroking it firmly and feeling it throb in his hand. Glancing up, he was caught by Malcolm's gaze, somehow hot and tender at the same time. His own cock surged in response, and he had to look away, before he came just from the look in Malcolm's eyes. He nuzzled Malcolm's cock, before giving it a long, slow lick, and was rewarded by Malcolm's hand sliding out of his hair to fist in the shoulder of Trip's jumpsuit. He alternated between firm strokes and slow licks, watching as Malcolm's breathing became labored and his chest flushed a deep red, then took him in his mouth, sucking and stroking until Malcolm's hips bucked and he came with a shuddering sigh.

Trip laid one hand on Malcolm's stomach, gently, to anchor him down, and wiped his mouth with the back of the other hand. He watched Malcolm pull himself back together and stroked his hair. Malcolm relaxed his hand and ran it down Trip's arm, pulling him in for a kiss. Trip allowed himself to be guided, letting the other man roll him onto his back. When Malcolm pulled away, there was a definite twinkle in his eyes, but he pressed his lips into a stern expression. Would have worked better, Trip thought, if he wasn't half-naked with his hair rakishly disarrayed, but he decided not to tell him that. "Something wrong?"

"I'm concerned about you, Commander." There was humor in his voice, and Trip wondered whether he couldn't keep both a straight face and a straight voice at the same time.

"How so, Lieutenant?" He couldn't keep his wandering hands from skimming up and down Malcolm's sides.

"Flushed cheeks, increased respiration…I fear you might be getting heatstroke. Best to strip you down, try to cool you off some." Malcolm pulled his zipper down, and Trip shrugged out of his sleeves, as Malcolm had done. Malcolm stripped off his undershirt, then pushed him back down to the deck. "Wait right there."

Malcolm disappeared for a moment, then reappeared, his hands dripping wet. He wiped them down Trip's chest to his stomach, and Trip twitched at the shock of the cool water against his chest. Malcolm's hands settled on his hips, and Trip looked down to see that dark head bent over his chest, tongue drawing designs among the goosebumps. That warm mouth moved over the clinging droplets of rainwater, and Trip moaned. When those cool hands worked their way down to his cock, his eyes popped open, and he couldn't remember having closed them.

Malcolm stared back at him, his expression completely wicked. "I think I've found the problem." His hands continued to stroke, and Trip found it hard to cling to the conversational thread. "I'll have to improvise a heat sink."

"Darlin', you can talk thermodynamics to me any time, but aren't you mixin' your metaphors?" Trip was prouder of that sentence than of his thesis in Advanced Warp Theory.

"Do you want me to stop?" Goddamn smug Brits.

"If you stop, I'll drown you in that meadow out there." Then Malcolm's mouth closed over his cock, and Trip's higher brain functions shut down entirely. There was only moist heat, and pressure, and Trip came with a cry that was dragged all the way up from his toes.

When Trip could breathe again, Malcolm leaned in and kissed him, slow and lazy. He settled in alongside Trip, head on his shoulder, one hand tracing his collarbone. "I may have to file a report."

"Huh?" Trip couldn't untangle his thoughts enough to get anything more articulate out, like 'are you insane?'

"A superior officer threatened my life. I'm quite concerned."

Trip chuckled, and the sound seemed rusty to him. He rubbed Malcolm's hair with his chin. "Well, I was under duress. Torture, even."

"Hmm. I suppose it'd be a wash, then."

"Yup. Offsetting penalties. No foul on either side."

"Oh, well, never mind."

The comm beeped, and Trip glared over at it. "Enterprise to Shuttlepod Two." T'Pol's voice, impassive as always.

Malcolm rolled away from him, and gave him a hand up. Trip stumbled to the control panel, and pointedly ignored the laugh that followed him forward. "Tucker here."

"Sensors indicate that the storm system has passed your position, Commander. You should be clear to return."

For the first time, Trip noticed that the rain had cleared out, leaving dripping trees and muddy puddles behind. "Understood, Enterprise. We'll be on our way as soon as we make sure that the intake manifolds are clear."

"Enterprise out."

Trip turned to find Malcolm dressed already, and he caught the undershirt that Malcolm tossed him. "Good thing there's no video feed on that transmission."

"Tell me about it." He pulled his shirt back on, and found Malcolm right in front of him. The lieutenant leaned up to kiss him, light and quick, then zipped up Trip's jumpsuit. Malcolm climbed out the hatch and reached back to give Trip a hand. They just stood there for a minute, holding hands in the bright sunshine and smiling at each other. Trip realized that the knot of tension in his chest was gone, replaced by a comforting warmth. The storm had passed, and the world was bright and clear again.