This is a collaborative story.

This chapter is written by ejectingthecore.

None of us own anything Star Trek.

3. Access Tube

I don't need to crawl around in engineering today. I'm scheduled to work on lots of backed up paperwork and will spend the day sitting at consoles, so I wear my skirt and tall boots that always make me feel sexy. As I draw the boots on, I fantasize about Mr. Spock taking them back off, unzipping them with his teeth. I'd run my hands through his silky hair, follow the curve of his ear with my finger, while his head moved down the length of my boot. Kneeling before me, his deep voice would mutter into my leg, his long fingers closing around my calf.

I pull myself together and stop pointlessly daydreaming about him. Every woman on the ship would like to get him on his knees. I need to forget about it and go to work.

Unexpectedly, I'm dispatched to do some maintenance, checking the matter-antimatter fuel flow gauges. They're at the very end of a horizontal access tube--a closed tunnel with one way in and that same way back out. I'm not keen on letting every engineer on the ship look up my skirt, so I enter the tube awkwardly, feet first, and shimmy down to the end. I'm all the way inside, my feet against the closed, far back wall. That's where he finds me.

"Ensign." I am jolted by his voice echoing through the narrow chamber. The air shifts as I become aware he's crawling in after me. I hear the only access port clang shut. I turn my head as far around as I can and see Spock advancing on me on hands and knees. I take a good look and savor the sight of his lean body prowling toward me.

"Here to inspect my work again, Commander?" Somewhere along the way, Commander and Ensign have gone beyond being ranks and now seem almost like affectionate nicknames.

"You are often remiss," he hisses. "I need to pay close attention to your performance." His voice nearly melts my spanner.

"Chief Engineer Scott might be a more suitable inspector, no?"

"If that is whom you'd prefer." He keeps coming toward me.

I laugh. "No sir."

"Then I take it you are not averse to me crawling farther into this access tube?" Suddenly it feels very close and my temperature rises.

It becomes difficult to breathe out just two words. "Crawl, please."

He has, of course like anyone would, entered the tube head first. So when he slides up next to me he's able to rest his head on the spot where my very short skirt ends and my legs begin. He takes a deep breath and nuzzles his face between my thighs. I melt and turn toward his body, and I find my face meeting the fastenings of his pants. I can suddenly see the logic in his following me here.

He pushes my skirt up the few centimeters needed to get at my tights. He hooks his fingers around them and yanks them down all the way to my boots. Far enough to be sure he can spread my thighs and get the access he wants. With one hand he pushes against my top knee, my legs open as far as my tights will allow, and I lodge the boot of my top leg against the back wall. I'm stuck in this close space, open for him, right in his face. My desire rises fast, making my labia swell. I hear his signature chuckle again, an amused and pleased sound.

And then he reaches for me. He does not flick or flirtingly run his tongue around my labia or clit. He takes me entirely at once in a passionate open-mouthed kiss. His satin lips close around me, his tongue plunges inside. I gasp and buck my hips toward his mouth. He opens and closes his lips around me again and again, allowing his tongue to explore me as he would his lover's mouth.

My mouth. I am Spock's lover. I am incredulous, grateful, immensely turned on. Just the thought of being his breaks my vocal control, and I let out a soft, subdued whine. It's not loud enough to be heard outside the hatch, and even so it will mingle with the sounds of the engine room.

The tube is narrow, our backs touching the walls. I pull my arm awkwardly out from under me and wrap it around the back of his thighs. I use my upper hand to touch him and find him obscenely hard. It obviously pleases him to please me. I take him into my hand and through layers of fabric I squeeze him gently. He moans into me and begins to move his tongue more repetitively in and out, driving me wild. I have only a few minutes of voluntary movement left, and I hurry to accomplish the important task of getting into his pants.

I have not tasted him before.

I run my tongue up his hard shaft, experimenting with his taste and texture, and he pushes toward me, wanting my whole mouth. I push his pants down out of the way. I swirl my tongue around the tip of his considerable penis and slowly begin to take it in. It stretches my lips and they start to tingle. He joins me in the controlled whining and humming we allow ourselves in this closed-off, but public, location. He rocks back and forth into my mouth, and I meet him, opening my mouth farther each time until I have as much of him as I can take. He's touching the back of my throat, and I gasp for air as he moves out then plunges back in. All the while continuing his delicious kissing of my labia, now dragging his rough tongue up and down and all over me. We're both bucking into each other.

All my senses are engaged. My hands can feel the back of his strong, slim thighs, my booted feet are braced and I can feel the hard metal and thrumming of the ship, feel his tongue rasping and plunging, the soft but unmistakable points of his ears against my inner thighs, the silky hardness of him in my mouth, his clean, masculine smell, the smell of leather boots, the sound and vibration of his breathing into me. Everything mingles and my body resonates with it all, a rising and rising sensation building inside. The sensation grows with the rumbling of the ship's engines, until it reaches a painful crescendo, then I crash into contracting relief and bliss. For one pure moment, the world outside this place is meaningless. My eyes close in exhaustion and supplication, and my mouth goes slack, giving him even more room to pound into it.

I steal moments between his thrusts to swirl my tongue, lap at him, breathe. I can feel him getting even harder and he starts thrusting faster and faster. Fucking my mouth. My orgasm is still clenching inside me, and already I'm getting aroused again by his penetration.

He clamps down on a shout by biting my thigh, and I experience a strangely erotic feeling knowing I've nearly made him lose control of his voice. He silently comes into me, pulsing, pushing a few extra times to empty himself into and onto me. He murmurs into my thigh. Our heads both slump onto one another, spent.

Then he leaves me. Zips himself up quickly and crawls backwards out of the access tube without a word, leaving me with my tights down, thighs wet, and lips tingling. It is an aggressive move leaving so quickly and silently, calculated to make me want him more. I hate that it works so thoroughly. As I pull up my tights I feel utterly and deliciously debauched.