Categories > TV > Star Trek: Enterprise > Scent
Archer was in a state that went so far beyond exhausted that he felt alert again. He knew this was a dangerous state for him to be in, but there would be time to rest once he settled all of the myriad loose ends from this incident with the Loque'eque virus. He had negotiated terms for the distribution the anti-virus, and had a peace pact and a few hundred liters of warp plasma to show for it. The last of the Loque'eque virus was safely stored in Phlox's cell bank. He had made sure that the crew who had volunteered to accompany Trip to rescue the away team had been screened and declared healthy by Phlox, and had received Archer's own personal thanks and commendations. T'pol was in a healing trance. He was leery of it, but Phlox assured him that the Vulcan healing trance was "highly effective," in his typical soothingly understated manner. Archer's only remaining concern, then, was for Sato and Reed.
It had been the kind of ordeal he never could have imagined having to warn his crew about. He had gone off into the great beyond knowing that strange things lay in wait, and he had made that clear to the people who served with him. But this? Having your own body and mind altered by something so insidious, so undetectable? How could one reasonably warn one's crew about that? Or, he thought ruefully, keep them safe from it? He had been so certain he could handle anything the universe threw at him. He didn't know it would end up throwing strange mutant warriors, temporal cold wars, and mutagenic viruses. What else did it have up its sleeve?
He found he was walking towards Reed's quarters. As well he should, he decided; the man had seemed uncomfortable in Sickbay. He did not get along with Phlox as well as some of the other crew did; perhaps there was something he would be more comfortable discussing with Archer? Especially as Archer had been through the same ordeal. He could still taste the shame of it - the memories of being almost an animal...
The moment he entered Reed's room, which he did without buzzing and waiting for a reply, he smelled it. It rolled over him acutely, yet it was so familiar that he realized he had unconsciously followed the scent from Sickbay, his brain making up rationalizations for the mindless attraction. It was curiously compelling, but it had an undertone that was disturbing in its implications, like the too-sweet reek of treacle burnt to carbon - a scent of acute want that was just too ill-defined. It was what he had smelled back on the planet, when he, as a Loque'eque, had asserted his dominance over the mutated Reed. But this smell was subtly different; it was not pure Loque'eque. It had a musky undertone that was distinctly Reed.
Archer discovered that he had walked into the shower while he had been mulling the scent, drawn like a fly to a pitcher plant. Reed looked up at him, startled - but Archer nonetheless had the feeling that Reed had sensed his arrival. Was it all part of this damned scent-language? Yes, yes - Reed was silent, but if he had been saying out loud, please, I want you/, Archer would not have heard more clearly. Reed's expression was uncertain and startled, but sight was not speaking to Archer. The scent of /want was, even though it was streaked with confusion. The feel of sudsy-slick skin under his fingers and the bitter tang of soap on his tongue barely penetrated his consciousness, overwhelemed as it was with the blended scent of Reed and /desire/. He rode that wave of smell, rubbing the alien scales on Reed's side, licking the almost-shed gills on the side of his face, turning the man and pressing him up agaist the wall of the shower.
His fingers moved to press inside of the man who was saying take me without words. Reed tensed, blocking him, and he growled and bit, hard. The metallic smell of blood added itself to the almost unbearably erotic mixture he was already inhaling, and Reed groaned and relaxed slightly. Archer pressed in his soap-slick fingers, stretching, as he buried his overly-sensitive nose into Reed's shoulder, eagerly sucking in the scent of startled lust.
The actual act of pulling out his fingers, opening his jumpsuit, and slipping inside of Reed was one that Archer could not remember well when he tried to recall this event later. It was a dizzy jumble of slick soap and hot skin and cold tile, suffused with the intoxicating smell of willing submission and ecstasy. With such stimulation, coupled to his exhausted state, Archer came with embarrassing rapidity.
Somewhere between that extreme exhaustion and the exertion of this unexpected intercourse, he passed out. The world went grey before he hit the tiled floor.
It had been the kind of ordeal he never could have imagined having to warn his crew about. He had gone off into the great beyond knowing that strange things lay in wait, and he had made that clear to the people who served with him. But this? Having your own body and mind altered by something so insidious, so undetectable? How could one reasonably warn one's crew about that? Or, he thought ruefully, keep them safe from it? He had been so certain he could handle anything the universe threw at him. He didn't know it would end up throwing strange mutant warriors, temporal cold wars, and mutagenic viruses. What else did it have up its sleeve?
He found he was walking towards Reed's quarters. As well he should, he decided; the man had seemed uncomfortable in Sickbay. He did not get along with Phlox as well as some of the other crew did; perhaps there was something he would be more comfortable discussing with Archer? Especially as Archer had been through the same ordeal. He could still taste the shame of it - the memories of being almost an animal...
The moment he entered Reed's room, which he did without buzzing and waiting for a reply, he smelled it. It rolled over him acutely, yet it was so familiar that he realized he had unconsciously followed the scent from Sickbay, his brain making up rationalizations for the mindless attraction. It was curiously compelling, but it had an undertone that was disturbing in its implications, like the too-sweet reek of treacle burnt to carbon - a scent of acute want that was just too ill-defined. It was what he had smelled back on the planet, when he, as a Loque'eque, had asserted his dominance over the mutated Reed. But this smell was subtly different; it was not pure Loque'eque. It had a musky undertone that was distinctly Reed.
Archer discovered that he had walked into the shower while he had been mulling the scent, drawn like a fly to a pitcher plant. Reed looked up at him, startled - but Archer nonetheless had the feeling that Reed had sensed his arrival. Was it all part of this damned scent-language? Yes, yes - Reed was silent, but if he had been saying out loud, please, I want you/, Archer would not have heard more clearly. Reed's expression was uncertain and startled, but sight was not speaking to Archer. The scent of /want was, even though it was streaked with confusion. The feel of sudsy-slick skin under his fingers and the bitter tang of soap on his tongue barely penetrated his consciousness, overwhelemed as it was with the blended scent of Reed and /desire/. He rode that wave of smell, rubbing the alien scales on Reed's side, licking the almost-shed gills on the side of his face, turning the man and pressing him up agaist the wall of the shower.
His fingers moved to press inside of the man who was saying take me without words. Reed tensed, blocking him, and he growled and bit, hard. The metallic smell of blood added itself to the almost unbearably erotic mixture he was already inhaling, and Reed groaned and relaxed slightly. Archer pressed in his soap-slick fingers, stretching, as he buried his overly-sensitive nose into Reed's shoulder, eagerly sucking in the scent of startled lust.
The actual act of pulling out his fingers, opening his jumpsuit, and slipping inside of Reed was one that Archer could not remember well when he tried to recall this event later. It was a dizzy jumble of slick soap and hot skin and cold tile, suffused with the intoxicating smell of willing submission and ecstasy. With such stimulation, coupled to his exhausted state, Archer came with embarrassing rapidity.
Somewhere between that extreme exhaustion and the exertion of this unexpected intercourse, he passed out. The world went grey before he hit the tiled floor.
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