Dame Fortune

Travis hadn't realized he was in trouble until about two hours into the game, and then it was too late to do anything about it.

He now found himself, stripped down to his underwear, facing a two and half meter tall muscle bound alien who outweighed him by fifty kilos, wishing that he had learned his lesson all those years ago.

That had been one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, but he had a feeling, as the alien eyed him with what passed for a leer on the man's ugly visage, that this would top that moment.

Travis' father had saved him from a similar situation once. It was on a planet, its name his alcohol and fear befuddled mind couldn't recall at this moment, that was remarkably similar to the one he was on now. Bad enough that he had been caught naked at a gaming table in a sleazy club, surrounding by decidedly hostile aliens. Worse, that he had lost every last credit his family had given him to buy a new part for the Horizon's engine. But the most terrible, and humiliating portion of the whole sordid misadventure, was having his father come to his rescue.

His family had never let him live it down. Part of the reason he joined Starfleet, he mused, staring at the cards in his hand which Dame Fortune had cruelly, and with an apparent sick sense of humor, given him.

He was so dead.

His father had paid off what Travis had owed, and then paraded him, naked and drunk through the streets back to their transport to the ship, lecturing him all the way, occasionally shouting loudly at the people they passed, encouraging them to jeer at his immensely stupid and pathetic son. Numerous people obliged, and Travis' shame and mortification had steadily increased, until by the time they arrived home the laughter of his family and friends felt like a loving standing ovation.

Travis had stayed away from gambling and strong drink ever since.

Until now.

That had been ten years ago, and the memory taunted him, fresh and clear, as if it had just been yesterday.

His father was gone now, and there was no one to bail him out of this predicament this time.

He had lost every last bit of what passed for money on this planet. Literally lost his shirt. As well as his boots and pants. He was about to lose his underwear. His dignity had been lost thirty minutes ago.

He had a feeling that, while he wasn't going to lose his virginity, since he had lost that years before, he was going to lose, if not blood, at least the ability to sit without pain for the next few weeks.

He wondered if the rumors about the alien's genitalia were true. If so, Travis thought that he'd rather have the man beat him to death with one of those large beefy fists. As long as that fist didn't come anywhere near his ass.

As if reading his mind, the alien leered again, and clenched his hand, thrusting it up and down into the air, licking his lips and staring pointedly at Travis' lower regions.

The group surrounding the table laughed. Travis contemplated his worthless hand once more. He couldn't even buy another drink to soften the blow of the horror to come.

***

Captain Archer had forced Malcolm to take shore leave, which irritated the lieutenant to no end. With half the ship on the planet, he was finally looking forward to tweaking the power to the phase canons without other duties cutting into his time or Trip looking over his shoulder, complaining about the, negligible to Malcolm's mind, energy drawn from his precious engines.

Malcolm felt that if you couldn't outrun them in the first place, you might as well be able to blow them to Kingdom Come. Unfortunately, that wasn't the way his commanding officers ran the ship.

Pity.

Malcolm had walked aimlessly around the streets, feeling surly. But a surprisingly good lunch and a quick shag with the lovely waitress in the restaurant's linen closet had left him in a far better mood.

And randy as hell again.

He walked into a seedy looking place, music throbbing from the interior with a low pulsating bass line which made his heart want to beat in time to it.

He ordered a drink and went on the prowl, taking a tactical reconnaissance of the perimeter, checking the layout, escape routes, and possible targets of acquisition, mentally noting a few likely suspects.

He climbed the stairs, intent on doing a thorough look around before getting down to business. You never knew when someone's spouse or lover would turn up, taking umbrage at the fact that you were chatting up their man or woman. Although sometimes that led to the most fortuitous circumstances…

The music was distance here, the pulsing bass only noticeable through the soles of his boots, and he peered into a room filled with smoke and a crowd of people around a table.

He recognized a nearly naked Travis immediately.

***

Travis was about ready to throw in his cards and give himself up to his unpleasant fate when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He was never so relieved to see anyone in his life.

"How much money do you have?" Travis asked, a bit desperate.

Malcolm looked surprised and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I wouldn't bet it on that hand, Ensign."

"I need to pay off my debt, or that guy is going to…" Travis whispered back, trailing off, unable to bear to actually say out loud what that guy was going to do.

As if hearing him, the alien smiled broadly and pumped his fist up and down again.

Travis swallowed hard.

"Ew," Malcolm said mildly. He went through his pockets and gave Travis every last bit of currency he had.

It wasn't nearly enough.

"Double or nothing," Travis blurted out, surprising himself.

"You don't have double," the alien replied, amused.

"Well, at least you have a fat lot of nothing, Travis," Malcolm said, sitting down next to him. "That really isn't the best of plans, you know." Malcolm sized up the others standing around the table, wondering if it came down to a fight how many would join in. He didn't think he and his half inebriated crewmate could take them all on and walk out of there without some serious injuries. And he really didn't want to get hurt. And he certainly didn't want anyone harming Travis, marring that beautiful face, that perfect body, or causing the man one iota of pain whatsoever.

"How about a different game? I win, you let me walk out of here, scot free."

"And if you lose?"

"I'll do anything you want," Travis said, forcing a lascivious tone into his voice.

Malcolm stared at him.

"You'll do anything I want now," the alien chuckled.

"No, I won't make it any fun for you. Or pleasant." Travis pulled himself unsteadily to his feet and leaned toward the man. "But I guarantee if we do double or nothing, I'll make it good for you," he said, his voice sultry. He ran a lingering finger over the man's lips.

Malcolm's momentary astonishment gave way to anger. And resentment. He shot to his feet, protesting.

"Travis! Don't! You…you can't—" he sputtered, and then stopped, afraid that he was giving himself away.

Travis looked at him, startled, and saw something in Malcolm's eyes before his friend looked away, something that Travis had always hoped to see, but never thought that he would.

Travis sank back down into his chair, numb and feeling hopeless.

He thought that if he lost, Malcolm would never look at him again.

———-

The alien licked his lips again and nodded.

"Double or nothing. New game." He signaled the waiter.

A few minutes later two shot glasses were placed on the table.

"Last one standing is the winner," the alien announced and grabbed the glass closest to him.

Oh, dear God, no, Travis thought. He was half drunk already, his opponent sober and outweighing him by quite a bit. And Travis hadn't eaten anything all day.

I'm so dead, Travis thought as he dully reached for the glass. At least when he fucks me to death, I won't feel a thing.

The alien slapped a meaty hand down on his arm, stopping him.

"Not you. Your little friend here." He nodded to Malcolm.

"Little?" Malcolm growled.

"Better odds for me," the alien smiled. He drained his shot and slammed the glass on the table. The waiter appeared with another two glasses.

"No, that's not right," Travis argued, but Malcolm sat down and placed a hand on his arm.

"Travis," he said calmly. "You're half pissed already. At least I'm sober and stand a better chance." He took the shot glass from Travis' suddenly nerveless fingers. "Besides, I'm English," Malcolm said with a grin and knocked the drink back, then slammed it on the table, reaching for the next shot.

———

Two and half hours later, Travis was stone cold sober. The alien was face down, unmoving, a myriad of little glasses littering the table in front of him, and Malcolm had the waiter on his lap, groping him. The waiter was enjoying it a bit too much for Travis' taste.

Travis rose to his feet and pushed the waiter off Malcolm's lap. Malcolm looked at Travis, a wide grin on his face, and tried to pull Travis down. "Give us a kiss, love," Malcolm slurred, giggling a bit.

"Come on. Let's get out of here." Travis pulled Malcolm up and Malcolm complained that somebody had turned off the gravity when he wasn't looking. He swayed in Travis' grasp and squinted at him, giving the ensign a slow once over, grin returning.

"You don't have any trousers," Malcolm mentioned the obvious. He stripped his shirt off and flung it across the room and then fumbled at his fly, trying to strip out of his pants as well. "If we're gonna get naked, then I'm terribly overdressed…"

Travis grabbed his hands. Travis had no idea where his clothes were, but figured that one of them parading down the street in their underwear was sufficient. Malcolm was swaying a bit more now, eyes half mast and gaze locked on to Travis' chest, so Travis pulled him close, and with as much aplomb as Travis could muster, dragged him from the room.

Travis half carried him down the stairs and out the door, supporting his friend, who was now singing at the top of his lungs.

"I wanna fuck you like an animal/I wanna feel you from the inside/I wanna fuck you like an animal/My whole existence is flawed…"

Malcolm always knew the weirdest old stuff, Travis thought. He wondered if it was part of that classical education, but somehow this didn't sound like something a university would teach you. Malcolm lurched away from Travis, singing a new song and dancing just out of Travis' reach.

"Toucha, toucha, toucha, touch me, I wanna be dirty…"

Malcolm sure can move, Travis thought appreciatively as he tried to grab his friend back, thinking that his falsetto wasn't too bad either. Malcolm evaded Travis' grasp and waggled his ass, singing another song about shaking your bon bon, this time off key and in a cheesy accent.

Travis chased Malcolm down, briefly letting himself think about Malcolm moving underneath him, on top of him, next to him and then decided that that line of thought wasn't the best idea, especially while walking down a public street clad only in underwear. It only made your underwear tighter.

"Thanks for saving my ass back there, Malcolm," Travis said when he finally caught Malcolm, who had started giggling again. Travis' mother had always taught him to mind his manners, especially when thanking someone who had just done you an enormous favor.

Malcolm grabbed Travis' ass and gave it a gentle squeeze. "And a bloody spectacular arse it is. Had to save it for myself, you know," he said, his accent getting thicker. He laughed wickedly, and started humming, hand caressing Travis' backside.

Travis enjoyed the leisurely massaging of his bottom all the way back to his room. And the little kisses that Malcolm would bestow upon him periodically.

By the time he pushed Malcolm onto the bed, Travis was hard as rock. That broad smile was still on Malcolm's face, it rarely having left since about the twelfth shot. Malcolm reached his hand out and stroked Travis' cock, his fingers nimble and gifted. He suddenly grabbed it and pulled Travis toward him. Travis had no choice but to follow. Malcolm grappled with Travis' shorts and freed the ensign's erection.

Travis knelt on the bed as Malcolm moved forward to bury his head between Travis' legs.

Travis pushed him back, and laid on top of him, pinning him. "Are you sure you want to do this, Malcolm?" he asked.

"Let me go," Malcolm mumbled, wanting to get to Travis' cock, but the room was spinning and he couldn't quite remember how to get out of this particular hold. Not that he tried too hard. He could feel Travis' body against his, his own cock stiff and aching. He rocked his hips against Travis and was rewarded with a quick intake of breath from the man.

"You're pretty wasted," Travis said doubtfully, terribly aroused, Malcolm squirming beneath him, feeling that hard dick under his own, a year of fantasies and dreams within his reach. But he didn't want to take advantage of his friend, didn't want to repay him by doing something that Malcolm might later regret, too drunk right now to think things through.

"I've bloody well wanted to do this for a year now, Travis, and drunk or sober, it's what I've wished," Malcolm said quietly, stilling and looking Travis in the eye. "Unless this is one of those polite 'thank you' fucks on your end." Malcolm looked away. "I don't want that. I couldn't take that, Travis…"

Travis leaned down and kissed him. Soft. Slow. Lingering over his lips. Malcolm responded with a tenderness that warmed Travis, and Travis released him. Malcolm embraced Travis, kissing him harder, tongue gently sliding between his lips and Travis opened his mouth, tasting a faint bitter tang of that alien alcohol.

When they broke apart Travis told him that he had wanted this for over a year now as well and was rewarded with a dazzling smile from Malcolm—

—right before Malcolm passed out.

Travis laughed hard and settled next to his soon to be lover, gently pulling Malcolm onto his chest and wrapping his arms around the man. Travis drifted off to sleep, thinking that Dame Fortune, while having a twisted sense of humor, had actually treated him pretty well today.