Pillow Talk

"My goodness," Malcolm gasped as he tried to catch his breath. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to move again, since his bones seemed to have somehow melted. "That was rather lovely."

"Mmm." Trip agreed into Malcolm's chest. "Lovely."

Malcolm roused himself enough to raise his head from the pillow, so that he could enjoy the sight of Trip's relaxed body sprawled between his legs, face planted directly in the center of Malcolm's chest. Hot, sweaty skin pressed up against his—yes, Malcolm liked that very much. "I've missed you," he said to the top of Trip's head.

Trip pushed himself up, and crawled forward until his face was over Malcolm's. "I know. I'm sorry," he said. "I haven't been—"

Malcolm shook his head. "No, don't apologize, please." He touched Trip's face, so open now, expression warm and full of love, no shadows marring his features. Malcolm's fingers lingered on Trip's cheek, then moved to play with his hair, damp and spiky with sweat, just the way Malcolm liked it. "You've been going through a rough time. Lack of sleep will do that to anyone," he told Trip.

Malcolm supposed that the worst part was that he seemed unable to do anything to alleviate Trip's suffering, to help Trip relax enough get a full night's sleep. As Trip's insomnia spiraled out of control, Trip drew into himself, shutting down, shutting Malcolm out—shutting everyone out, just as he had done in the weeks following Lizzie's death. There was nothing Malcolm could do, other than wait and be supportive as Trip tried various treatments suggested by Dr. Phlox.

Trip leaned down and brushed his lips against Malcolm's. "Hopefully that's all in the past now." He wriggled his hips, pressing his spent cock against Malcolm's thigh, sliding his stomach over Malcolm's come-slicked skin. "It's amazin' what a little rest will do, ain't it? I feel like I've recharged my batteries."

"I missed more than just the mind-blowing sex, Trip," Malcolm said reproachfully. "I missed—" He paused, trying to find the right words. He had missed Trip's smile, missed Trip's lively, expressive face, missed the way Trip filled a room, missed his wise-ass remarks, missed the way Trip made him feel like the center of the universe. "I missed you being you," he finished. "Not that I didn't miss the sex," he added, savoring the pleasant manner in which his ass ached.

Trip laughed, and good lord, Malcolm had missed that too. The way Trip's laughter rumbled through his body—through both of their bodies at certain times. "You did seem to be enjoyin' yourself, what with all that shoutin' and hollerin'."

"I did not 'holler,'" Malcolm said, stroking Trip's arms, sliding his hands across solid biceps to Trip's shoulders. Trip arms were simply marvelous, a joy to touch, what with all those nicely sculpted muscles. "I may have politely called out your name once or twice."

"You squealed, too. And stop lookin' at me like that, you know you did."

Malcolm squeezed Trip's shoulders. "You're obviously delusional."

But they were smiling at each other. It was a familiar routine, and Malcolm reveled in the comfort of it, in the sense that pieces of his life were falling back into place.

"So," Trip said, lifting himself off of Malcolm's body to lay beside him, "you think I should tell T'Pol her neurostimulation technique has jump-started my sex life?"

Before he could stop himself, Malcolm said a trifle too harshly, "You will tell her no such thing."

"Hey, hey, only kiddin', you know that, darlin'." Trip rolled to face Malcolm. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous."

Hell. "I am not bloody jealous," Malcolm denied.

The laughter left Trip's eyes. "Ain't there some saying about protesting too strongly?" he asked.

Malcolm desperately wanted to kick himself. The last thing he needed to do was bring Trip down, not now, not when they should be cuddling in an altogether too rare postcoital bliss. "Listen, love," he said, "it's—"

"Because you know there's nothing like that about it," Trip said sharply. "I keep tellin' you that. I don't know where you got to thinkin' it's some kinky sex thing—"

Shit, shit, shit. They were losing it, losing the moment, and Malcolm did the only thing he could to pull them back from the precipice. He launched himself at Trip, capturing his mouth, swallowing Trip's words unformed and unspoken. He knew very well that Trip was annoyed, the way he resisted at first, shaking his head as he tried to speak. But Malcolm wrapped his arm around Trip's neck and refused to let him go, holding him tight until Trip relaxed against him, returning the kiss, allowing Malcolm's tongue to slide between his lips. The kiss gradually changed from something rough and awkward to sweet and soulful, and when they finally parted, Malcolm noted the dazed look on Trip's face with great satisfaction.

"Oh." Trip laid his head back down on the pillow, winding an arm around Malcolm's waist. "Yeah. What was I sayin' now?"

"You were saying that you forgive me for being an absolute prat," Malcolm told him. "For being so self-centered in thinking I should be the only one who could help you, rather than just being happy that someone, anyone was able to give you the help you needed. Even Subcommander T'Pol."

Trip blinked at him, realization dawning. "You mean you were jealous of—of the fact it was T'Pol and not you who helped me finally get some shut-eye?"

Malcolm sighed. "I suppose the proper term would be 'envious,' but yes, I was. Still am."

"Malcolm, you big dope, you," Trip said affectionately, his good humor returning, much to Malcolm's relief. "Don't you have any idea of how important you are to me?"

"Judging from our earlier activities, I'm beginning to get the idea." Malcolm allowed Trip to pull him close. He rested his head on Trip's shoulder, breathing in his lover's scent as he draped a leg across Trip's body. "Don't mind me, love. I'm just on edge from all the strange goings on out here. And not having you in my arms at night—I hadn't realized how much I needed your touch. How accustomed I had grown to having you next to me at night." He didn't tell Trip that he himself had been having difficulty sleeping.

Trip kissed the top of his head. "And here I thought you were gettin' a nice break from me stealin all the blankets."

"And pillows," Malcolm reminded him.

"I don't steal pillows."

"Yes you do, you bloody hoard them. What are you—will you please settle—" Malcolm complained as Trip kicked his legs about.

"Just tryin' to grab the sheets. I'm cold, okay?" Trip told him, reaching down the bed with his hands as he tried to hook the sheets around his feet.

Malcolm sat up, grumbling as he retrieved the sheets from the foot of the bed, untangling Trip's feet. He pulled the bedcovers up over them, then snuggled back against Trip's body. "There. Is that better?" He tried to sound peevish, but couldn't hide the joy in his voice at having Trip in bed with him again.

"Mmm. Much." He yawned and stretched. "And you did too squeal."

"Did not." Malcolm kissed Trip's chest, and Trip wrapped his arms around his body and gave him a squeeze.

"Did too. In a classy, British kind of way, but it was definitely a squeal."

Malcolm snorted. They lay together quietly.

"I do love you, Malcolm. And I need your touch, too," Trip told him after a moment.

Trip's voice was sleepy, so Malcolm didn't respond. Instead he merely waited, listening to Trip's breathing. And sure enough, Trip's breaths evened out and slowed as his body relaxed into a deep, sound sleep.

"Goodnight, love," Malcolm whispered, before closing his eyes.