Xanadu

Title: Xanadu
Author: londonbelow
Pairing: Archer/Trip
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they never have been, they never will be. I just like to play with them from time to time.

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An away mission, planetside at long last. As much as he loved the ship, Trip had been feeling a bit confined as of late. There was only so long a person could breatheycleycled air and look at deck plates without longing for grass and flowers and a good, fresh rain. He thought fondly of his home back in Florida, how he used to climb up on the roof when the storm clouds gathered and breathe deep the thick scent of the jasmine that climbed the west-facing wall. Down, the shuttle spiralled, the planet winking like a jewelled marble in the blackness of space. Trip imagined that it would smell green down there, like being alive.

It had taken some pushing to get Jon to take him on this mission. It was routine, investigating the planet, taking samples of the local flora and fauna. Nothing that required an engineer, much less the head of Engineering. But he had put on his best sad face, those eyes that no one could resist, that faint wheedling tone accentuated with a Southern belle sweetness, his accent dripping like molasses from his lips. Jon had caved, smiled at him in amusement. They had known each other for so long, been so close, and still Jon had no idea just how often Trip had him eating out of the palm of his hand.

The shuttle touched down smoothly, ten point landing, and the door hissed open. Flooded with the rich smell of life, Trip had to pause a moment to gather himself before he bounded out into the sun. Porthos followed him jubilantly, barking at the sky and the birds and the flowers. Trip tried to contain his enthusiasm, though he wanted nothing more than to roll in the grass with Porthos, and he turned back to Jon with a grin. The science crew, unloading their things, watched him with amusement as he stretched his arms towards the heavens.

"Nice place," he offered, testing the air. He smelled water. Not rain, not a lake. Not the ocean even; this was moving, fresh and strong, probably a river. Trip cocked his head and listened. What he had mistaken for the roar of the wind was beginning to sound like a patch of whitewater. He should have looked at the topographical surveys before they'd come down. Eagerness was his undoing again.

"Very nice," Jon replied with a smile, pursing his lips and whistling for Porthos to heel. The dog frolicked over, wriggling in delight, jumping up to lick Jon's fingers. "What say we do a bit of exploring while they gather their samples?" A challenge in his hazel eyes, his smile mocking c'mon, Tucker, I dare you. Trip was only too happy to accept and he fell in behind the captain. Just like Porthos but without the licking. He smiled.

They walked, sun warm on their shoulders and the roaring of the river growing louder and closer. Trip paused to strip off his boand and socks, placing them next to an oddly shaped rock for retrieval on their way back. It had been too long since the soles of his feet touched earth and grass, and he revelled in the tickling sensation of the blades between his toes. He hummed to himself as he walked, old Earth songs that his mother had taught him when he was only a baby, barely able to walk. Jon cast glances at him, amused and fond as though Trip were his child. When he looked away, Trip smiled secretly to himself.

They walked for an hour, maybe two, and it grew warmer as they went. Hot, moist heat like a Florida springtime. Trip unzipped his jumpsuit, tied the arms around his waist. The sun felt good on his shoulders, like a kiss, a caress from gentle hands. They lost sight of the rest of the away team, the shuttle and people eclipsed by rolling hills, but neither of them minded. It was too lovely to care about much; Porthos romped in the grasses, snapping at flowers and fluttering insects that looked like bees with the gossamer wings of butterflies. Blue like a thousand summers, they rose in clouds of glittering filament and swirled through the air in a madcap dance of joy. Trip laughed aloud at them, held out his hands to them.

One alighted on his finger, regarding him with insect eyes and feathered feelers, searching for pollen. Finding nothing, it fluttered back into the air, rejoined its swarm. Jon grinned, his whole face alight. "Matches your eyes," he offered, strolling away down another hill. Trip watched him go, his face split in a stupid smile. Jon noticed hies? es? What a strange, small world it was...

Presently, they came upon the river, stopped in awe to gaze at it. It thundered over boulders bigger than the shuttle, sending up a hazy spray that glittered rainbows in the still warmth. Miles wide at the least, it wended its way through the countryside, making lazy curves and rushing down hills with the force of centuries. Its waters were clear, cold, untainted by man and his machines and Trip wandered to the very edge. The clean spray kissed his cheeks, dampened his hair so that it stuck to his forehead and cheeks. It drew him in to its scintillating display of color and sound and he felt he could stay there forever, just watching the water rush over the rocks in its journey to some unknown sea.

A gentle hand on his elbow led him away from the rapids, ueam eam for a while until it quieted enough for them to talk. "What do you think?" Jon asked. His eyes glittered with the joy and beauty of it and his body, too, was stained with the river's spray.

"Xanadu," Trip murmured, laughing softly to himself. Up ahead, a wall of rocks formed a tiny dam and the river spilled over it in a crystal fall that gleamed in the sunlight. Behind the rocks, a small deep lagoon had formed. It beckoned to him, the ripples on the water begging to be played with, and he began to shuck his uniform.

"Test it first," Jon ordered, handing him a PH kit. Trip did as he was told, kneeling and dipping the device into the water. "What did you say?" It came up clean and Trip stripped off the blue regulation tank top that he wore under his jumpsuit.

"Xanadu!" he called, diving into the water. It was crisp, cool, alive, and he dived under with his eyes wide open. It had been a long time since the last opportunity for swimming arose and his skin thrilled at the caress of the water, muscles stretching and pulling. He stayed under till his lungs burned and then he surfaced, treading water and looking for Jon.

He had jumped in as well, unable to resist the call of the pool, and he grinned at Trip as he sidestroked lazily in a circle. "Xanadu? Why do you say that?" With a yelp, Porthos dove in as well, dogpaddling happily towards his master.

"'In Xanadu did Khubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decree,'" he quoted, diving under again and swimming to Jon's side. The captain laughed, splashed him in the face.

"'Where Alph the sacred river ran through caverns measureless to man,'" he replied, shaking his head. Trip finished the quote, neck deep in the pool and grinning.

"'Down to a sunless sea.'" Jon shook his head, ducked under. He resurfaced behind Trip, his dark hair swept back from his face and his body glistening with water. Sleek as an otter, he swam to the edge and plucked up a stick to throw for Porthos. Barking joyfully, the dog chased it, and Jon turned back to his engineer.

"I didn't know you knew Coleridge," he remarked. Trip shrugged, drew his fingers idly across the surface of the water.

"I went to college too," he said, almost reproachfully. The remark stung, especially coming from Jon who of all people should know better. Trip knew sometimes he didn't come off as particularly smart, but that was more a flaw of his personality than a lack of intelligence. He had always been impulsive, preferring to Do rather than Think. But it didn't make him stupid. Jon looked surprised.

"I know, Trip." He cocked his head to one side, confused by Trip's sudden sullen silence. "I just didn't think-" He stopped talking as Trip slid under water, leaving barely a ripple in his wake. Always he was confined to the role of idiot, troublemaker, the only thing getting him by in the world his deft touch with any and all things mechanical. But he knew literature, he knew poetry and history and stories. He'd taken the classes in college, same as the rest of the world, and some of it had stuck. Just because he didn't go around throwing out quotes like some hidebound intellectual didn't mean he knew nothing.

There, Jon's ankle. A bit of revenge for the slight, yanking him under and swimming away while he coughed and sputtered in shock. Jon was an excellent swimmer but Trip had practically been born in the water. When it came right down to it, he was by far more skilled. He surfaced a few feet away, chin lifted haughtily and eyes staring cold arrogance across at his captain. Jon wiped the water from his eyes, sneezed once, and shook his head.

"Trip!!" The cry of indignation was sweet and Trip laughed mockingly as he treaded water. Jon was off like a shot, leaping and diving, and Trip had no time to dodge before powerful arms were wrapped around his waist, pulling him under. They rolled beneath the surface in an alligator's death match, struggling for dominance until neither could stand it any longer and they surfaced as one, laughing and shaking water from their eyes and ears. Trip coughed, blinked, realized that Jon's arms were still around him, holding him close.

Sensory overload; Jon's broad hands on his back, Jon's lightly furred chest pressed against his own, Jon's long legs tangling with his, hips meeting, rubbing, parting beneath the water. He couldn't stifle the panicked little moan that tore it's way free from deep within him as his brain processed the situation and chose a course of action. His cock strained forward against blue regulation boxer-briefs as he strained backward against the arms of his best friend. Jon, puzzled, released him and Trip backpedalled frantically. Distance. He needed distance.

"Hey..." Jon's voics cos concerned, soothing, as though Trip were a jittery dog. "Trip, what's the matter?" He swam closer, Trip holding his position warily. He didn't want to upset Jon, couldn't move away any more without doing so. It was a no-win situation. "You hurt or something?"

"You might say that," he replied cautiously. The coolness of the water only encouraged his arousal, lapping at his nipples teasingly. Currents seemed to spring from nowhere to swirl around his aching erection and he bit the insides of his mouth painfully, trying to choke it down. He knew he must look a mess, pupils dilated with lust, irises a dark, stormy blue. He could almost feel his lips reddening in anticipation of kisses they were not to recieve, and he assayed a thin smile. "I'll be okay."

"Don't lie to me, Commander." Stern now, all captain andJon.Jon. Trip winced and his nerve endings thrummed in excitement at the authority in his friend's voice. "Do you need medical attention?"

Need was not near strong enough a word for what he felt, and the attention he craved was not medical in nature, but he couldn't very well tell Jon that. Jon thought he was playing at something, hiding some mild injury that his sport wouldn't be cut short. Oh, how little you know, my friend. How little you know. "I'm fine, sir," he choked out. "Nothing sprained, cut, broken, or otherwise damaged. Just a bit of a shock is all." He tried to shrug casually. Jon wasn't buying it.

"Out of the water, Commander," he ordered, swimming towards Trip. A powerful breaststroke, muscles bunching and stretching beneath his skin so tempting. Trip's mouth was dry and he gulped down a little bit of water. It didn't help, only made it worse. Jon was on him now, hand on his waist guiding towards the bank. Trip shied away, a skittish horse move, and Jon's arm clamped down, pinned him close. Too close. His cock surged against the thin fabric holding it back, finding the warmth of Jon's leg. Trip gasped, Jon froze, and they stared at each other for a long moment.

Finally. "Trip?"

"Sorry, sir." Barely gasped out, barely managing to keep from rubbing against Jon's leg. The water seemed to laugh, to tickle his nipples and stroke his ass and press him tighter against his captain. He closed his eyes in humiliation and there was another long silence.

"How long?" The silence broken by the inevitable question. Trip didn't have an answer; he didn't know. Still, he tried for Jon's sake.

"A long time," he murmured. Every muscle in his body was tensed, torn between flight and wrapping around Jon so tight that he wouldn't ever escape. "Since you saved me." True enough for now. The relief when he'd seen hazel eyes creased in worry staring down at him had been enough to drown in. How long had he loved Jon Archer? Sometimes it seemed like his entire life.

"You never said anything." Trip shook his head. Nothing to say, really. Nothing that would make it go away and nothing they could do about it. They'd always worked in such close proximity, so often together. And now, the captain and the commander? There had to be a law against that somewhere. A hand on the back of his head pressed his cheek to Jon's chest and he inhaled deeply. Water and sun and Jon, clean as a spring rain. He shuddered. "Say it now."

"Say..." He trailed off, breath caught in his throat. Say it? How could he? How could he, knowing that they wouldn't be together, that if anything happened it wouldn't survive the night. It was a cruel thing to ask. Trip said it anyway. "I love you."

He felt soft lips on the top of his head, Jon's hand tilting his face up. He stared into eyes the color of golden topaz, wonder parting his lips. "Say it again," Jon murmured, mouth finding Trip's cheeks, forehead, eyes.

"I love you," he gasped again. The words had hardly escaped when Jon claimed his mouth, delving, tasting. Claiming. His arms found Jon's neck, legs found his waist, and he was clinging like a child. Finally, finally Jon was his, in his arms, moaning into his mouth. His dick was a steel column digging into Trip's belly, and Trip reached down, peeling away the underwear and tossing them away. A thrilled yelp, a splash, and growling as Porthos made off with his new prize. The two of them dissolved into laughter and Jon unwound Trip's legs, removing his underwear with meticulous care.

"I love you too." Magic words as their cocks met surrounded by the water. They both gasped, Trip gave a little sob and buried his face in Jon's shoulder. Too much to take, almost. Jon's erection nuzzling his own, Jon's broad hand circling them both, pumping slowly. Trip revelled in the shocks that coursed through his body, reduced him to need contained by skin.

"Jon," he whimpered, writhing against his friend, his captain. His lover? God, he hoped so. "Jon, need you, please..." Incoherent for the most part. In his dreams, in all the fantasies in his mind, he had been ready, witty, drawing Jon on and seducing him with words. They would have to stay dreams a while longer; his tongue could barely form the pleading words that he cried into Jon's ear as he secured his legs again.

Jon released his cock, allowing it to bob against Trip's stomach. The water was cool, silky, as he arched his back, rubbing his ass against Jon's erection. Of all the places he had envisioned their first time, water had never been part of the equation. It made sense, though. So much sense that it was almost frightening. "Trip..." A murmured litany from Jon's lips as he positioned himself. Trip tried not to tense up, reminded himself that he wanted this.

A short, sharp jerk of the hips and the head of Jon's cock was inside him, stretching him wide. He screamed, eyes rolling back in his head. It hurt, a delicious pain that knifed through him and set his limbs to quivering. "Yesyesyesyes..." It was all he could say, all his brain could manage as Jon began to thrust gently, penetrating him inch by agonizing inch. No prep, no lube, just Jon. He thought he felt something tear but it was secondary next to the sensation of being filled. It could be taken care of later, when his body wasn't begging for release.

Finally he was flush against his friend, Jon's cock buried deep inside him, and they both paused to catch their breath. The water surrounded them, buoyed them as Jon began to move inside him, slow, deep thrusts that sent lazy ripples of pleasure coursing through Trip's body. They fucked there in the lagoon, all languid motions and sleepy eyes, swollen lips and husky declarations of love. Twilight gathered around them as they floated connected, undulating against each other, relishing the slick slide of skin on skin.

Trip came first, felt it building in his gut and rising like a tidal wave. His entire body was warm, flushed with the glow of sex and love, and he threw back his head, cried out warning to Jon. One last thrust, one last brush against his prostate, and the warmth broke, shattered and skipped across the water as he tensed and trembled in Jon's strong arms. Rejoining, it raced back to him, put him back together again in time to feel Jon spill himself into his still contracting body.

For a while, they lay in each others arms, eyes locked and speaking all the things they had never said before. Words were a waste of time in a moment like this, so they contented themselves with stroking, nuzzling, cuddling in the cooling embrace of the lagoon. Finally, Jon pulled away, looked up at the sky. Stars were coming out; it was time to go back to the others. They would spend the night on the planet, head back to Enterprise the next afternoon. Trip wouldn't let himself regret what had happened, or be sad over its inevitable outcome. He'd had Jon once, that was enough for him.

As Jon climbed out of the lagoon and began searching for his underwear, Trip kicked onto his back and floated lazily across the still surface of the water. His hair drifted like seaweed, tickling the edges of his arms, and he smiled up at the stars, satiated. "'And all should cry, Beware! Beware!'" he whispered to the night sky, laughing at his own foolishness. "'His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice and close your eyes with holy dread.'" He paused, looked to where Jon stood on the bank scolding Porthos. The dog rolled over for a belly rub and Jon, soft touch, capitulated. Trip's heart swelled with delight and he finished the poem as he floated on his back towards the shore.

"'For he on honey-dew hath fed and drunk the milk of Paradise.'"