Burden of Proof

~~~~~
The minute he got back to Enterprise, Captain Archer holed himself up in his quarters and asked not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. He had a lot of thinking to do, and the last thing he wanted was T’Pol dropping in and asking a bunch of questions he couldn’t answer.

But now, with less than half an hour left before nightfall on the Nakeen Capital, Archer had yet to come up with a way to fill Trip in on the situation without tipping off the Nakeen to the fact that it was all a ruse. He also couldn’t picture Trip taking the news too well. He had images of his friend laughing in his face or blowing up at him, and either way, it would ruin whatever credibility he had with the Nakeen.

On the off chance he could get Trip to play along, he hoped they’d be able to just fake having sex. After all, it wasn’t like the prime matron knew anything about human sexual interaction. Maybe they could get away with stripping to the waist and hugging—Archer could claim that simply touching that way was enough to constitute sexual intercourse. Although he doubted it was going to be that easy.

His comm. chirped and Archer put down the water polo ball he’d been bouncing against the wall and got up to answer it.

“Captain, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I think you might want to come down to sickbay,” came Phlox’s voice.

Archer checked the time—he only had a few minutes before he had to leave. “I’m on my way, Doctor, but it’ll have to be quick.”

Phlox was waiting for him in sickbay, and he looked annoyingly jovial. “I just had the most interesting conversation with the Nakeen Prime Matron,” he said with a mysterious grin.

“I’d asked Hoshi to forward all Nakeen transmissions to my quarters,” said Archer irritably.

“Ah-ah—before you start blaming the bridge crew, I should tell you that the prime matron contacted me directly. She said it was a private matter and that my assistance was required to help prove Commander Tucker’s innocence. Naturally I agreed to help her in any way I could,” said Phlox.

Archer’s stomach did a flip, anticipating the worst. “What did she want?” he asked.

“Funny thing, really…she was asking about your relationship with Commander Tucker. It seems she’s under the impression that the two of you are a great deal more than just crewmates.”

“And what did you tell her?” asked Archer guardedly.

“The truth,” said Phlox, making Archer’s heart sink. “I told her that you kept you personal life private, but that I had long suspected a more…intimate relationship existed between you.”

Archer raised an eyebrow at his Denobulan doctor. “The truth? You think Trip and I…? I only told them that so they’d believe he wasn’t trying to seduce their prime matron.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Phlox merrily.

“Did she believe you?” asked Archer.

“Why wouldn’t she?” Phlox countered.

Archer didn’t know how to react; he knew he shouldn’t let Phlox keep thinking there was more to his relationship with Trip than there was, but there was no time to set the record straight. “Well, thank-you for playing along, Doctor,” he said, sticking to his story. “I appreciate it.” He turned to leave, but Phlox stalled him.

“There’s more, I’m afraid, Captain,” he said. “The prime matron asked me about human sexual practices—specifically the physical, sexual act between two men. She asked for explicit details.”

“Did you give them to her?”

“I didn’t see the harm in it—after all, she said the information was vital in proving Commander Tucker’s innocence,” said Phlox. “I hope I haven’t overstepped my bounds?”

Archer managed to coax a weak smile onto his face. “Not at all,” he said. “But I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention this to anyone else.”

“You know anything said in sickbay stays in sickbay.”

Archer nodded his thanks and checked the time. He was out of time, but it hardly mattered; his last chance of faking his way out of the upcoming ordeal had just been yanked out of his grasp. As he was about to leave for the second time, Phlox once again stalled him.

“Uh, Captain…?”

“Yes?”

“I think you should take this…just in case.”

Archer took the small bottle from Phlox’s outstretched hand and instantly felt the heat creeping into his cheeks. Ignoring the grinning Denobulan, he turned on his heel and marched out the door, quickly concealing the little bottle of lubricant in his right breast pocket.

~~~~~
Captain Archer stood before a panel of fifteen prime consorts for his debriefing, and he couldn’t help feeling a bit like Gulliver in a sea of Lilliputians. The whole trip down to the planet he’d been trying to come up with another way out of this—one that wouldn’t result in Trip’s death or castration—but he’d had no luck.

Prime Consort Tammin stepped forward, turning his goggle-enhanced eyes to the little clipboard in his hands. “The prime matron has asked me to impress upon you the rules for your visitation. Rule number one: you are not permitted to enter the detention unit whilst in the possession of any weapon or communications device. Prime Consort Mott will now commence a search of your person.”

Tammin paused and nodded at one of the other prime consorts, who quickly stepped up to Archer and began patting him down. Archer had to kneel to accommodate him.

“Rule number two,” said Tammin continuing where he’d left off. “To ensure the validity of this demonstration, you may not at any time convey the purpose of your visit to Commander Tucker. If the prime matron decides that the commander’s behaviour was swayed by something you said to him, she will declare the demonstration inconclusive and resort to traditional Nakeen judicial practices. Do you understand what I’ve told you?” he asked, blinking up at Archer. “Are there any words you would like me to clarify for you?”

Archer bristled at the snide remark, but he held his tongue and answered with a swift nod.

“Very well, then,” said Tammin. “Mott, is the captain clear to enter the detention unit?”

Mott, who was nearly identical, save for a lack of spectacles, jumped to attention. He was clearly an underling, eager to please, and he held out the items he’d confiscated from Archer’s uniform with exaggerated efficiency.

“The captain’s communication device,” said Mott, placing it carefully in a large, brown envelope. “I found no weaponry on his person, but I did find this.” Mott produced the little bottle of lubricant. “Its purpose is unclear, but my scans indicate that it is entirely innocuous.”

“Give it back to him,” ordered Tammin. The younger man instantly obeyed, and then fell into line with his fellow consorts.

Archer, surrounded by the group of waist-high aliens, was guided through the security gates to the detention facility. As they passed through various lockdown stations on the way to Tucker’s unit, he began to feel truly nervous. Too many things could go wrong, and there was no way of knowing how the Nakeen would respond if they found out about his deception.

~~~~~
In all his life, Trip had never felt so alone. He was a people person, always had been, and his enforced solitude was wearing him down. He’d lost track of time, but it felt like he’d been locked up for months. It was way too long to go without seeing another human face, and he was starting to worry he was losing it.

To keep himself from going completely insane, he spent most of his waking hours mentally devising means of escape. So far he’d come up with a couple dozen, but only three that weren’t laughably implausible. The only problem was that all three plausible escape plans involved dismantling his unit’s plumbing, and he wasn’t too keen on spending the rest of his life in a jail cell with no toilet or running water should his escape attempt fail. Besides, he knew in his heart that Enterprise wouldn’t abandon him. Jon wouldn’t abandon him. He just had to sit tight and have faith.

He was just about to turn off his light and go to sleep when the lock on his cell door clunked open. Trip quickly got to his feet, instantly alert—it was the first time that door had been opened since he’d been incarcerated. Which either meant really good news or really bad news.

When the door rolled back and he saw Captain Archer and his little army of escorts, he was flooded with relief. “Captain, am I glad to see you,” he said, his face lighting up in a big grin.

Archer stepped into the cell, leaving his entourage outside, and the door rolled shut and locked behind him.

“Please tell me it’s good news,” said Trip, unnerved by Archer’s silence and the strange expression on his face.

“We don’t have much time,” said Archer, coming face to face with him. “We can talk later.”

Archer’s eyes were practically pleading with him, but before Trip could figure out why, he suddenly found himself in his captain’s arms. Hugs were unusual—no, take that back, they were pretty much unheard of—between the two of them. There were plenty of claps on the back, sure, but a hug? He guessed Jon really missed him. Either that or it was really bad news.

He was still trying to figure out where the hug had come from when Trip realized that Archer wasn’t letting go. Instead, he’d drawn back just enough so they were once more eye-to-eye. And the distance between them was slowly diminishing, until Trip knew, with heart-thumping certainty, that Jonathan Archer was going to kiss him.

In that brief moment, Trip came to a grim conclusion. The Nakeen were going to execute him. Jon knew it, and he was using their remaining time together to finally express his true feelings for him. Emotionally, it was a lot to deal with all at once, but he knew one thing for sure—if this was the last time he’d have with Jon, he wasn’t going to waste any of it talking.

When their lips finally met, Trip didn’t hesitate. He’d waited too long for this to play it slow. He quickly pulled Jon into a deep kiss, trying to express without words how much he wanted this, how much he cared for him. He felt Archer tense up, like he hadn’t been expecting him to reciprocate, and it took a few seconds for him to relax into the kiss.

Trip would have been quite happy to let the kiss go on all night, but Jon pulled away, eventually, leaving him breathless and aching for more. He held on to Jon as if he feared he might change his mind and leave. There was no way that was going to happen. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Trip flashed a smile at Jon and closed the short gap between them. This time he took it slowly. He softly brushed his lips against Jon’s, savouring the silky texture of them as strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer. Soon their tongues met, and they began to explore each other, deepening the kiss.

Archer was as surprised as he was relieved that Trip had figured out what was going on so quickly. He supposed he should have had more faith—they’d been close friends for so many years, after all. It only seemed right that Trip should be able to read him so well.

He trailed a path of kisses down Trip’s throat to his collarbone, nuzzling against the soft skin there until Trip groaned. He then pulled away just enough to unzip Trip’s prison jumpsuit.

Trip shrugged out of the baggy, one-piece monstrosity and let it crumple to the floor at his feet, kicking it away unceremoniously. But he wasn’t about to be the only one standing around in his underwear, so he got to work on Jon’s uniform. As his hands fumbled with the stubborn zipper, he noticed an unusual bulge in the right, breast pocket. He noticed Jon tense up as his hand passed over it, and he was suddenly overcome with curiosity. His fingers took a quick detour and delved into the pocket, pulling out the bottle of lubricant hidden there.

Trip’s eyes shot up to meet Jon’s, his eyebrows arched in surprise. “I see you came prepared,” he said with a lop-sided grin. “An’ here I thought you were mad at me.”

“Do I look mad to you?” asked Archer.

Trip swept an appreciative glance over Jon. “You look amazing,” he answered. “But you’d look even better without the damn uniform. Help me out, here, would ya?”

Archer put the little bottle back in his pocket and took over from Trip, unzipping his uniform. Soon he was left with nothing on but his royal blue, Starfleet issue undershirt and shorts. But that wasn’t good enough for Trip, apparently.

Snagging the hem of Jon’s undershirt with his thumbs, Trip yanked it up and over Jon’s head, tossing it onto the small heap of clothes on the floor. The rest of their undergarments quickly followed until there was nothing between them but air…and very little of that.

If Archer had had any doubts about Trip’s willingness to play along, he had none now. It was a bit unnerving to discover that his best friend had so little compunction about having sex with him. It was even more disturbing to find out that the idea wasn’t so distasteful to him, either. He didn’t have time to analyse the situation, though. Before he could lose his nerve, he took the next step.

Sliding his hands down Trip’s chest, he slowly sank to his knees. With a quick glance into Trip’s eyes to make sure it was okay, he let his hands circle the younger man’s waist and wander down to cup his ass. Trip’s cock jutted out hard and ready in front of him—it was now or never.

Trip knew he should probably protest, even just a little, but he couldn’t. He could hardly form a cohesive thought, let alone vocalize one, and truth was, he wanted this too bad to fight it. The sight of his cock sliding into Jon’s mouth was almost enough to push him over the edge. He had to close his eyes and bite his lip to keep from losing control too soon. But with his eyes closed, the only stimulus he had was the feel of Jon’s hot, wet mouth engulfing him over and over; Jon’s tongue, unpractised but eager, rolling over the head of his cock, or tracing the vein along the underside of it. It was no good—the pleasure was too intense to hold out any longer.

“Oh, God, Jon,” he groaned loudly, digging his fingers into Jon’s shoulders as he came. Trip sagged against him, his legs feeling weak and rubbery in the wake of his orgasm.

Archer had been ready for it, and he swallowed the come, figuring he’d be expected to do so. He was surprised to find that it wasn’t as horrible as he feared it would be. It was turning out to be a day full of surprises.

“I’m sorry,” said Trip.

Archer looked at him quizzically and got to his feet. “What for?” he asked.

“Just kinda wish it had lasted longer,” he grumbled softly.

Archer smiled at him. “What makes you think we’re finished?”

Trip returned the smile, spicing it up with a wickedly mischievous glint in his eye. He nudged Jon’s nose with his own before claiming his lips once more. His hand felt its way down the other man’s chest, tweaking a nipple along the way. It wasn’t long until his hand reached Jon’s sizable erection, and he gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Aw, fuck, Trip,” Archer gasped involuntarily.

“If you insist,” Trip muttered in his ear.

Archer’s cock leapt in Tucker’s hand at the husky reply. Suddenly he wasn’t at all concerned about the Nakeen prime matron and whoever else was watching. All he cared about was getting Trip over to the bed, and in the small confines of detention unit Graff Eleven, that didn’t take long at all.

In an instant, Archer was on top of Trip, pressing him into the mattress as his mouth and hands ravaged the hard body beneath him. He couldn’t get enough of his skin, hot and slick with sweat, rubbing against him, their bodies sliding against each other, cocks colliding, the friction feeling so amazing. In fact, it felt a little too amazing. Archer let up, reminding himself that if he came too early he’d ruin the ‘demonstration’.

“What’re you stoppin’ for?” asked Trip, who was already starting to get his second wind.

“Forgot something,” Archer replied with a nervous grin, and he ducked away, returning moments later with the bottle of lubricant. He knew he was presuming a lot, and he was worried that Trip might want to back out now that the stakes were higher. His eyes met Trip’s, seeking permission. Trip’s look of raw desire was all the answer he needed.

Archer took a deep breath to calm his nerves. A blowjob was one thing—he’d had enough of them in his lifetime to figure out how to give one. But this…? He knew how it worked in theory, but that was about it. He had to do this right; not just for the judgemental eyes of the prime matron, but for Trip as well. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt him.

Squirting a large amount of lubricant into his palm, Archer let the liquid warm up for a while, and then positioned himself between Trip’s legs.

Trip, anticipating what Jon wanted, spread his legs wider—not a subtle way of saying he was ready, but effective.

Archer took the hint and slipped a well-oiled finger down the crack of Trip’s ass, easing it tentatively into the puckered entrance. He was being careful, taking his time and watching Trip for any sign of discomfort. He carefully stretched the tight opening with first one, and then two fingers, but Trip was growing impatient.

“God, Jon…please,” Trip moaned, his eyes begging his to take the next step.

Archer slowly withdrew his fingers, feeling a jolt of nervous excitement as he pressed his cock against Trip’s ass. The tight ring of muscle gripped his shaft and he stilled, moaning at the unexpected sensation. Trip was so tight, so hot. He’d never felt anything this intense in his life. He tried to calm his breathing, tried to remember to take it slow.

Trip grunted as Jon pressed his full length home, filling him in a way that made him feel whole for the first time in as long as he could remember. He tried not to think about the unfairness of it—that it had taken his imminent death to finally bring them together. He wanted, instead, to focus on the pleasure of the moment, because here and now, he was finally one with the man he’d secretly loved for years.

Trip watched in awe as Jon lost himself in the moment, too, thrusting into him with uncontrolled passion. And the look of pained joy on his face as he finally came was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Jon collapsed, satiated, on top of him, and Trip gladly accepted the dead weight. They lay that way for a while, catching their breath, letting their heartbeats return to normal again. Finally Jon sighed and rolled off of Trip and onto his back and Trip immediately curled up against his side, wrapping his arm possessively across his chest.

It was a moment Trip wished could have lasted forever, so naturally, it was over far too soon. The lock on the cell door clanged open, and the heavy barricade rolled back to reveal a small army of Nakeen consorts.

“No. Not yet,” said Trip, his voice tight with emotion. “Jon, don’t go. Tell ‘em we’re not ready yet. I’m not ready yet.” His fingers dug painfully into Jon’s flesh, holding on to him for dear life.

Archer looked down at him, wondering what had him so scared, and then it dawned on him—Trip thought they were here to take him to his execution. The realization stunned him; he’d thought they were on the same page, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. He wanted to reassure him that he wasn’t going to die, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell him the truth in front of their witnesses, and he couldn’t risk Trip saying something that might put his plan in jeopardy. Both their lives hinged on keeping up the illusion that they were long-time lovers.

Archer quickly got out of bed and got dressed, unable to look at Trip, and feeling like a complete bastard. As he was being bustled out of the cell, he risked a glance over his shoulder, and his heart wrenched to see Trip sitting there, scared and alone, thinking he was about to go to his death.