Devil May Care

Jon could hear his lover cursing vehemently from down the corridor. He lengthened his stride and burst through the sickbay doors.

Malcolm was on a bio bed, fighting against Phlox and Trip, who were trying to push him back down. He was covered in dirt and debris, uniform torn, blood dripping down his face, his head bleeding freely.

"You're not shaving my bloody head!" Malcolm raged, breaking free and stumbling to his feet. He swayed dangerously as Jon hurried over and caught hold of him. Phlox and Trip grabbed Malcolm again and Jon assisted his friends in pinning Malcolm back down on the bed.

"Now, now, Lieutenant, I'm not going to shave your whole head, just the area where the wound is. There's too much hair there to seal it properly," Phlox panted as soothingly as possible, hands full of a struggling armory officer.

Malcolm strained against them, cursing and seething. Jon and Trip finally had him pinned securely and Phlox sedated him. The doctor exhaled a breath of relief and started to clean the injured area.

Jon brushed the hair off Malcolm's forehead and ran his hand down his lover's thigh before turning to Phlox.

"Is he going to be all right?" he demanded.

"Yes. There's no concussion. Just a deep gash. You know head wounds seem to bleed much more than other cuts. He'll be fine, perhaps a slight headache. He'll be on duty tomorrow, Captain," and Phlox smiled at Jon.

"What happened?" he asked, taking in Trip's equally dusty clothing, black eye, and dirty face.

"A couple of big Nausicaans jumped us at the salvage site. I guess they felt they had first dibs on that wreckage. We managed to stun them, but not before they got a couple of licks it. One of them sliced Malcolm with a piece of metal while he was busy pulling the other one off me."

Phlox started to shave away the hair around the area of the wound. Trip and Jon continued to talk and then stopped as they hear the doctor emit a low chuckle.

"What?" Jon asked.

"It seems that the Lieutenant has a tattoo," Phlox chortled as he cut away more hair.

Jon was surprised. Malcolm never mentioned a tattoo.

"Let me see," he said, and moved to get a closer look at his lover's scalp.

Trip joined him and they watched as more of the colorful markings were revealed.

Trip started to laugh. "Hell, Jon! I don't believe it! This is better than your tattoo!"

Jon blushed. Of his shipmates, only Trip and Malcolm knew of the tattoo he carried. The one he had gotten in college while on the water polo team. The one on his butt.

The one that read, "Grade A Prime".

Phlox finally cleared the hair away, revealing a nasty gash that underscored Malcolm's tattoo perfectly.

Jon looked at it and started to laugh as hard as Trip. "Christ! Now I know why he's such a handful!"

***

Malcolm ran a nervous hand through his hair while he waited for Jon to open his door. It still hurt to touch where Phlox had sealed the skin, but he had managed to brush enough hair over the area to hide the damn tattoo.

Jon opened the door and grinned widely at his lover, taking in the jeans and grey tee shirt that wrapped Malcolm's body, his eyes lingering over Malcolm's fly.

Malcolm smirked slightly, watching Jon's eyes and he took this moment to appreciate Jon's hard body in the tight black pants that hugged his lover like a second skin. Jon wasn't wearing a shirt and Malcolm rubbed his fingers through the hair on his chest before pushing Jon backwards into the room and locking the door behind them.

Malcolm kissed Jonathan passionately, aggressively. He hated being in sickbay and was relieved to get back where he was comfortable and with the man he loved.

Jon drew Malcolm in, kissing him hard, invading his mouth, and grabbed Malcolm's crotch and squeezed. Malcolm moaned and Jon grinned. He moved away, leaving Malcolm exhaling in exasperation.

"Tease," he pouted, knowing that he so rarely pouted that Jon ate it up.

"Well, if you want more, you'll have to answer a question." Jon's grin grew wider.

"What?" Malcolm asked suspiciously.

"When did you get that tattoo?"

Malcolm blushed furiously. Jon thought he was adorable but restrained from sweeping his lover up into his arms.

Malcolm sat down on the bed and ran a hand through his hair again, wincing as he accidentally hit a sore spot. Jon sat next to him, gently moving his fingers up Malcolm's hair and pushed away the part that covered the tattoo. He laughed softly, shaking his head. "What were you thinking?"

"Look, we'd just completed training and were on a three-day leave." Malcolm sighed, eyes cast downwards, feeling like an idiot, but he told Jon the truth. "I really don't remember anything but the first six hours. Then I woke up two and half days later, in a room with my friends, along with six girls, two other guys, dressed only in a pair of leather pants, with a nipple ring and this bloody tattoo on my shaved head." Malcolm paused, embarrassed and feeling the heat rising in his cheeks again. "I really shouldn't drink," he said ruefully. "I tend to get happy and then do incredibly stupid things…"

Jon hugged him, and kissed him gently. "This is perfect blackmail material, you know that? I think I'm going to have fun teasing you about this." His eyes twinkled as Malcolm scowled at him. Oh yeah, he wasn't going to let his lover ever hear the end of this.

Jon looked at the tattoo again. "So you don't know why you got this?" He liked it, not that he'd let Malcolm know it. The small lettering was perfect and legible, a delicate calligraphy, elegant and sinuous.

Malcolm sighed. "No. I've really never had any desire to have a drawing of a voluptuous woman with horns, a tail and pitchfork encircled with the words 'Hell Bent on Destruction' on my head."

"And the number 666 above it?" Jon started laughing very hard, much to Malcolm's irritation.

Mr. 'Grade A Prime' was laughing at him.

"Jon, love, that's not a tattoo…" Malcolm said softly, ominously. Jon stiffened and Malcolm turned toward him, giving him his best menacing stare. Jon looked at him, a flash of doubt crossing his face.

Malcolm burst out laughing. Set point to me, Mr. Grade A, he thought. He twisted and pushed Jon back onto the bed, straddling him, kissing him hard and grabbing his cock, stroking it to its full hardness in a matter of moments. Jon moaned under Malcolm's talented assault. Malcolm suddenly stopped and sat up on top of Jon, eyes laughing.

"See, it just means I'm a randy little devil."