"Captain's Starlog, March 18th, 2152. After thorough scanning of the derelict alien vessel we found orbiting a gas giant, I decided to have Subcommander T'Pol set up a research mission. From what we could detect with our scans, this alien species seems to be warp-capable, with technology very similar to our own. By extracting data from their computer core we might be able to find out where they came from, and possibly plan to make first contact.

Commander Tucker has been working on engineering a more stable plasma flow to our starboard nacelle; it seems that Crewman Carter had some good input on - "

Crewman Carter. Louise Carter. Ever since he had first spotted her – in the lowest part of Engineering, the bun in her hair slightly undone, strands of it clinging to her face as she fussed over a console – she had been on Jonathan Archer's mind.

"Some good input on bypassing the connection nearest to the warp coil via a – "

The second time he saw her, she was sitting at a table in the crowded mess hall, nursing a cup of coffee and she had smiled as he walked past the door, a smile meant just for him, her captain, her superior. He should know better than to read something into this. But with the way her close-fitted uniform clung to her breasts and thighs, how her dark hair was put up to reveal the nape of her neck, how the front zipper was slid down just a little too low, to, unfortunately, reveal an undershirt rather than skin…

Oh, how he would like to tear her uniform open, defile it, run his coarse hands all over her soft skin –

"Fuck," Jonathan muttered under his breath, after pausing the recording, "fuck, fuck, fuck."

Quickly but steadily he unzipped the front of his uniform all the way down to his groin, his heart beating in his throat, realizing full well that what he was about to do was wrong, perverse, and definitely breaking protocol. When the top part of the jumpsuit fell of his shoulders, his skilful fingers quickly unbuttoned the collar of his undershirt, which was already getting damp with sweat.

As he felt his cock starting to stiffen, he pushed the elastic of his blue Starfleet-issue boxer briefs down; it didn't take much for his twitching member to spring out of his underwear, and he started stroking it gently.

In his mind, he had rid his young crewman of all her clothes; he had her pressed against the cold metal wall of his ready room and was forcefully kneading her breasts, letting her hardened nipples roll between his rough fingers, while kissing and sucking on her neck and collarbone, drawing small moans and whimpers from her reddened lips.

"Captain," she sighed.

Archer hushed her. "Shh. We wouldn't want the bridge crew to hear us, now would we?"

Slowly, he made his way down her body with his hands, pressing down on her skin hard, rubbing her sides, her stomach, her ass, before finding his way to her inner thighs. He thrust a still-clothed knee in-between her legs as a silent command for her to open them wider, and she obeyed.

Archer leaned back further in his chair, face flushed, speeding up the motions around his slick cock. He could feel drops of sweat running down his neck and chest, and moved his left hand to tug his collar open further, while slowly spreading his legs.

"You're so wet already, crewman," he groaned, "as your captain, I really ought to discipline you for such lewd behaviour."

The imagined high-pitched moans that she made in response to his words shot another jolt of pleasure directly to his groin. If only he could really have her, feel her warm, young body pressed against his. Jonathan's hand sped up a little and he flicked his thumb over the head, covering it in precum. He had to swallow a moan.

In his daydream, he was holding her down face-first on his desk, his fingers were forcefully playing with her folds, sliding in and out of her, further and deeper, stroking her clit in between, and she was rocking her hips back onto his hand as if by instinct.

"Captain, sir, please, please," she whispered, knowing that she was supposed to be quiet.

"Please what, crewman?" Archer replied, ceasing the movement of his fingers, causing her to move her hips even faster, wanting more.

When she didn't reply but only whimpered, he urged her on, "Do you want me to fuck you, Carter?"

A barely audible "Yes," escaped from her lips.

He leaned his muscular upper body over hers to be able to whisper in her ear, "Do you want my cock inside you?"

"Yes, Captain, please…"

As nervously as Jonathan had freed himself from his underwear in the real world, as confidently did his dream version do the same. He grabbed her by the hips and entered her in one hard thrust.

In order to keep herself from crying out, she had to clasp both hands over her mouth, but Archer could still hear her mewls of pleasure as he rammed into her again and again. He pulled her thighs out as wide as her body would allow it, whispering obscenities, "You love this, you want this, your captain filling up your cunt… You're so tight, crewman, God…"

One of his hands dove between her legs and started rubbing circles around her clit, grinding it harshly, without mercy, until she was trembling underneath him, her breathing erratic and heavy, and he could feel her walls clenching around his cock, bringing him to his peak, and with one final thrust he spent his hot seed inside of her.

Jonathan tightens his actual hand around himself, imagines that this is how tight she must be, and shortly after, his climax tore through him, his body bucking in his chair, fingers squeezing down hard around his cock, his head tilting upwards in pleasure as cum erupts from his pulsing cock, splattering onto his black undershirt.

Slightly dazed, he zipped his uniform back up to the top, concealing the evidence of everything that just happened, and returned to recording his starlog.