By Design

He loved to watch his lover. Especially when he was like this. Aggressively in charge, alert, senses fully engaged. Nerves stretched tight, yet his body oddly relaxed. Except for the arm that held the phase pistol, stiff and fully extended, his graceful fingers curled tensely around the trigger.

Archer watched Malcolm as he led them down the corridor of the alien ship; watched his lover move, supply and quick, the phase pistol shifting from side to side, scanning for trouble, ready to react in an instant. He was holding it left-handed today, Jon noted with a small smile despite the seriousness of the situation. He knew Malcolm was equally talented with both hands.

Hoshi trailed between them, nervous but containing it. She too had her pistol drawn, as did Jon. He'd already used it once and he was ready to use it again.

***

First contact with the Palitan ship had gone well and Jon accepted their Captain's invitation to visit. He assigned Hoshi to interpret and Malcolm insisted on security. Preferably at least six more men. Jon had fondly laughed and told Malcolm he was paranoid, a small joke between them. Malcolm had argued, politely, formally, with all of that proper military decorum he possessed; and his way of telling a superior that he thought you were an asshole without ever saying anything you could reprimand him for. Jon told him he wanted to keep it modest, didn't want to overwhelm their new friends. Malcolm conceded, but Jon knew he didn't like it. He could see Malcolm start to wind up, and it sent a thrill through him. He loved it when Malcolm got wired and on edge. And, if all went well, Jon knew that tonight he would get one of the best fucks of his life.

***

Hoshi inhaled quickly and looked behind Jon. Malcolm whirled and pushed her into Jon and out of the way. He fired twice, stunning both Palitans who had come up behind them, their weapons clattering to the flooring. Jon watched the way Malcolm moved, how loose his body was, shoulders relaxed, stance fluid, arm extended. The only signs of his lover's high-strung nerves were the white knuckles on the pistol, and his wide, dilated eyes. Jon stared into those eyes and could see the fear; Malcolm's fear for his crewmates, his fear for Jon in particular, but not for himself. Jon held his breath for a moment at the sight of those eyes, moved to see such a depth of feelings for him. He'd never had anyone, man or woman, love him with such ferocious intensity. He knew Malcolm would not hesitate to die for him.

Jon liked that.

Malcolm checked behind him and then gestured for them to proceed. "Wish I had your ears, Ensign," he whispered lightly to Hoshi, a slight grin on his face. "Of course, wouldn't mind having other bits of you either," and he winked at her. Hoshi breathed out a quiet laugh, and Jon could see her tension ease under Malcolm's teasing appreciation.

That was another thing that he loved about Malcolm. He could be quite charming when he felt like it.

They continued down the corridor, trying to get back to the shuttle so they could escape.

***

The First of the Palitan ship was gracious and seemed friendly enough. He proudly showed them around his ship, Hoshi holding her own and keeping up with the rapid speech patterns inherent in the language. Malcolm automatically inspected the surroundings, memorizing the way the Palitan took them through the vessel. He left the talking to Hoshi and Jon.

Malcolm scrutinized the crewmembers they saw along their tour. Average height, average built, requisite bumpy facial bone structure that Malcolm had seen so many times before during their mission. He wondered why every species they ran into seemed to have ridges or bumps on their foreheads…

They were invited to dine with the Palitan First and four of his officers. Malcolm wanted to leave, but Jon didn't want to offend. Hoshi agreed with Jon. The Palitans could be a little touchy.

It started when Malcolm asked to scan the food. Jon had gotten sick once from eating with a species they had just met; one of the dishes had disagreed with him violently afterwards and Phlox suggested that in the future that it should be standard procedure to analyze any alien fare which the away team planned on ingesting.

The Palitan First took offense. He and his crewmates rose from the table, hands on weapons. Hoshi quickly apologized, explaining that Malcolm meant no insult; that humans had a sensitive digestive system and could easily fall ill. The Palitans slowly accepted her apology.

Malcolm showed their hosts his readings, indicating to a leafy yellow dish and commenting that it was poisonous to humans. The First rose to his feet and Malcolm casually kept one hand near his phase pistol. Jon noticed it though. He could see it start.

A sexual heat ran through Jon as he watched Malcolm tense, his muscles hard and flexing, then relaxing. The quick twitch of the head to crack his neck, the slight rocking of the shoulders, the slow curling and uncurling of the fingers; Malcolm discreetly stretched his body, warming up for action. Jon watched his lover nonchalantly shift his stance, eyes confirming the positions of everyone, the exit, the distance needed to reach it.

Jon felt his cock grow hard. Malcolm was primed. Another notch or two and his lover would be standing on that edge, walking that razor sharp tightrope between fast action and staying his hand. Misinterpret a signal, delay or react an instant too soon, one misstep in either direction could result in fatal consequences. Jon thought his beloved was beautiful at this moment.

The First drew his weapon and shot one of his crewmembers. Malcolm's pistol was in his hand the moment the alien Captain moved, but he held off that extra second, waiting to see who was being targeted. Malcolm kept his pistol lowered.

Hoshi, shaken and upset, translated the First's explanation. The man had been responsible for the food preparation and should have known better; their beliefs would have made them all take their life if they had inadvertently poisoned their guests.

Jon had jumped to his feet in shock, the Palitan Second in Command standing as well. Jon, voice rising, argued that it was an accident, an oversight, nothing worth killing someone over. Malcolm saw the Second's gun come up, aiming at Jon. Malcolm stunned him, then swiftly turned his pistol on Palitan First. Jon held his hands out, speaking again, and Hoshi rapidly translated his words of peace.

Jon looked at Malcolm as Hoshi translated his words. Jon saw the temper rising in Malcolm's eyes, his frustration, that touch of nervous anticipation and he felt an electric connection to his lover. Hoshi then translated the First's reply. Jon met Malcolm's stare, and Jon could read him easily. Take Hoshi and run.

Hoshi edged toward Jon, knowing that the First was incensed at Jon's audacity to lecture him. It didn't look good. She looked at Malcolm and widened her eyes. He nodded minutely and breathed out a soft "Go" for her sensitive ears only. She placed her hand in Jon's.

Jon tensed and waited for Malcolm's signal. He didn't have to wait long. Malcolm shot the First, and upended the table, pushing the three other Palitans back, knocking them down, and then stunning them. Jon and Hoshi ran out the door, Malcolm not far behind.

***

They moved swiftly down the corridor, Jon trying to glimpse his lover's face, wanting to see that roiling combination of strong emotions in his eyes. Jon loved the way Malcolm would bottle it up, only to explode in a frenzy of lovemaking to release it. Jon loved those rare times. And it looked like this was going to be one of those times. Malcolm was wound tight, a coiled spring, on edge and ready to erupt. Now, if they could only avoid any further confrontations, Malcolm would be all his tonight.

***

As they returned safely to the Enterprise, Jon questioned again if he had provoked the incident, subconsciously, or consciously, to get Malcolm to react, forcing him onto that tightrope and then pushing him off, Jon the safety net into which Malcolm would fall. Jon wondered if he had goaded the Palitan First by using a tone of voice or a thoughtless phrase during that final argument. Did he deliberately try to kindle a situation that would endanger himself and the away team? He didn't think so. He earnestly hoped he hadn't. But he admitted to himself, in the darkest nights, when he'd lay awake and watch Malcolm sleep, that he looked forward to those circumstances that led to Malcolm losing control during lovemaking. And he wondered…

***

Jon moaned, face pressed to the side, legs over Malcolm's shoulders. He knew Malcolm was releasing the tension within him; he hammered into Jon with a fury that made Jon scream with ecstasy and desire. Jon begged Malcolm to fuck him harder, faster.

Malcolm ravaged him. Jon felt his balls tighten and he came with a violence that made him lightheaded, hyperventilating and sweat soaked. When Malcolm came Jon's muscles clenched and he orgasmed again, only this time deep inside, filled by Malcolm, waves of exquisite pleasure radiating from his gut all the way down to his twitching sphincter.

And when Malcolm came, Jon heard his beloved moan, that rare throaty growl that drove Jon insane. Jon opened his eyes and watched his lover lose his restraint. Only Jon would see him like this, only Jon would see that incredible lust and need. Malcolm's head was thrown back, that keening cry issuing from his throat. Jon memorized the sight.

Jon lay there helpless, muscles quivering, sending more flutters of small orgasms through him, making Malcolm twitch inside him, delivering another flicker of delight through his body. Malcolm lowered his head, his eyes wide open and large, wanting to see everything in Jon's face. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound making Jon shiver again. Malcolm dropped down on top of his lover and kissed him tenderly, flushed and panting.

"Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Malcolm asked, concerned.

"I'm fine. I love you," Jon replied and drew Malcolm's head down.

Malcolm relaxed, placing his head against Jon's neck. "I love you, too."

"Feel better?" Jon asked, ruffling his lover's hair.

Malcolm laughed loudly. "Oh, much better. Thank you." He waited until his body calmed and then rolled off Jon, heading to the bathroom to clean up. He returned with a towel and proceeded to gently wipe Jon down, washing off the sweat and fluids. Jon closed his eyes and luxuriated in this pampering, this gentle ritual that his lover would perform after each time they made love this way.

Malcolm returned to their bed and Jon curled up and rested his head on Malcolm's chest. Malcolm stroked him with a silky touch and Jon relaxed fully.

"I'm sorry about today, Malcolm…I should have declined dining with them."

"Water under the bridge, Jon. Shit happens."

Jon laughed at Malcolm's suddenly crude turn of the phrase. Malcolm smiled and kissed him.

"Everything turned out okay, no one got hurt."

"Except for that poor chef…"

"I meant our people."

"I know." Malcolm sighed. "If anything happened to you, I'd go mad. Do you know that?"

"Nothing's gonna happen to me as long as you're watching my back," Jon said with confidence. He reached over and kissed his beloved, running a hand down his hard chest. "Besides, you won't let anything happen to me. You like me too much." Jon flashed Malcolm a cocky grin.

"Ah, Jon. I love you too much. You'll be the death of me yet," Malcolm replied and kissed him firmly.