The party was already busy by the time Erin made her way in; it was early but the revellers were making the most of their night of freedom. Cups were full, the music thumped and the lights flashed with intent. A small gathering of dancers had already stepped out onto the floor, a casual blend of the most confident and the least sober and there were already signs of the obligatory pairing off.

She'd taken extra care with her appearance. Black dress, gold heels, two extra thick, cat-like flicks of eyeliner. Her hair was loose, falling across her shoulders and snaking down her back with a slight wave. A small gathering of dancers had already stepped out onto the floor, a casual blend of the most confident and the least sober and there were already signs of the obligatory pairing off.

Dasha bounced up and thrust a full cup into her Erin's hand, her typical overly excitable self.

"Boots, no boots. Looking good. Drink this and everyone gets instantly smarter, hotter and funnier. Trust me." Her nose wrinkled with mischief and Erin squeezed her close, lifting her cup to her friends.

"What we drinking to?" Dasha asked.

"To needless risk-taking to produce alcohol that when it's is readily available?" Erin smirked.

"To you surviving three days of Lorca torture and getting a free shift pass for tonight."

Erin avoided eye contact. It really wasn't that awful, sSometimes when Dasha had asked questions about those three days, she'd made it sound so much worse than it was., it It seemed easier than explaining she'd almost cried when she left. She brushed her lips where he'd planted that soft kiss and forced herself not to get lost in her thoughts.

"Ensign Cole to Nurse Powers, come in," Dasha nudged at her cup, "to getting drunk and laid!" she finished just as a third cup swung in.

"I'll drink to that," said an already merry Tilly, "and the dancefloor is the place to make it happen."

She was dragging at them both insistently, and with a shrug both of themthey followed, knowing that resisting was a fruitless exercise. Erin downed her drink in one to the glee of her companions and was needled onto the dancefloor. A miraculous second cup seemed to findfound its way into her hand and she found a sudden freedom in moving to the music. A couple of would-be-suitors tried to move closer, pressing themselves in amongst the trio. She shied away. She was doing her best to push aside the events of the last few days, but her mind was too full of someone else to even contemplate an entanglement of any shape or form. Instead she shunted both of them in the direction of an eager Tilly.

Dasha tapped at her arm. "I'm heading over there." She gave a wink and stuck her tongue out before stalking after a blonde girl from engineering. With Tilly otherwise engaged, Erin found herself dancing awkwardly on her own, unaware she was being watched. She tried to subtly withdraw from the floor, weaving past other dancers using the opportunity to grind against each other.

The screeching halt to the thumping music was a blessed relief. Chatter faded out, as a presence in the room started to turn heads.

The Captain made this way through the stunned crowd. People seemed to sober up, as if some witchcraft was at work, couples untwined themselves from one another and scrambled to regain some dignity. It was thankfully relatively dark and crowded and the most embarrassed were in hope they had gone unseen. Erin tried not to stare, but felt sure she could feel his eyes on her.

"What's a man got to do to get a drink?"

The tension was cut. It was Tilly who managed to rush forward with a full cup. He sniffed its contents. The crowd were still quiet. He held up the unknown drink in his hand, the room watching for cues.

"To Discovery, her crew and to winning the war."

He tipped the cup and polished off its contents. A roar went up and the mood relaxed as all followed suit and took a drink.

"Enjoy the party." The music kicked back in at his cue, although more tentativelyat a lower volume than before. Slowly the dance floor started to fill up again. Drinks were refilled and conversations restarted. The buzz started to return to the room and the volume crept back up.

Erin had managed to slink to the side of the room. There was a presence behind her and she knew instinctively it was him. It rooted her to the spot. She knew his smell, could feel his breath against her ear, but didn't dare to turn around, and knew he didn't want her to.

"Nurse Powers. I would like to invite you for a private drink in my quarters. If you would care to join me, I'd appreciate thirty minutes to attend to some matters first."

Her heart was in her throat, pounding in time to the thumping bass of the music. By the time she could muster enough composure to whisper a hoarse, "Yes, Sir," she knew he was already gone. It needed no further thought, it was clear what it meant and what she had agreed to without hesitation.

Thirty minutes felt like a long time.

Time dragged, sShe slowed down her drinking intentionally, tried her best to disappear into the ether. Her friends were busy with their own agendas. Slipping out unnoticed was relatively easy. She was hypervigilant making her way down the corridor, taking a final sweep and ruffling her hair before trying the door.

It opened and he scanned the hallway, the way she had done a second before. He had taken off his jacket and there was a very fine bottle of scotch and two glasses on the table. He ushered her in, watching her movement, letting his eyes skim over her body. It felt like she had never been here before, in spite of spending 72 hours there, unable to leave.

"Take a seat. Drink?"

With a weak 'please' she perched nervously on the edge of the sofa and accepted the large honey-coloured single malt.

"I didn't think, can you drink that straight?"

She Erin swirled it around in the glass and pouted. "I guess I look like I can't hold my liquor. I take it straight up, but thank you." She almost regretted it, it sounded forward, but she understood what a private drink meant. She had little to lose and was emboldened by the warm glow of alcohol.

He smirked and took a leisurely seat, reclining opposite her.

"Do you know why I asked you here?" He leant forward, intent in his wordsly.

She took a large glug of her drink to steady herself.

"Yes."

His gaze ran up the length of her legs, paused at the hem of her dress, then settled on her face.

"Are you drunk?"

"No, Sir. Warm, but a long way from drunk."

He studied her eyes and nodded, clearly believed believing her.

"If you know why you're here, there's no need for the formality. Use my name, Erin. You have before."

She had, when he was at his lowest, to offer comfort. Perhaps this was another form of comfort, but it felt very different. She slipped back a little in her seat. He enjoyed the sport, watchingwatched her squirm, knowing her mouth was dry,obviously all too aware of what she wanted and what he knew wouldwas going to happen.

"Do you want this, Erin?"

She decided to play the game and slowly traced her tongue across her lip, slipping back further against the backrest and pushing her thighs out towards him. ; Aa driving ache was building between her thighs and her breath was already ragged. Her own whimpering lonely cries of his name, alone in her bed echoed. It burned she wanted him so badly.

"Yes, Gabriel. I want this."

He settled back in smug amusement. It shouldn't, but his arrogance made her want him more.

"So are you wearing those non-regulation pink frilly things under there? I've thought about those a lot."

She shook her head.

"Black?" his interest peakedpiqued.

Her head shook again and she chewed at her bottom lip.

"Red and lacy?" His question sounded hopeful.

She fixed her eyes on his. "I didn't want to ruin the line of this dress. I'm not wearing any."

He swallowed hard, the power shifted for the first time. His eyes wide, clawing back control, "Show me," he commanded.

She slowly uncrossed her legs. The air fizzed as she hitched up her dress and parted her thighs. His glass clanked down on the table and he seemed to appear beside her in a swift, single motion. His fingers teased the inside of her thigh and she exhaled a soft whimper. With his other hand, he brushed her cheek and raked through her hair before his mouth crashed down on hers.

Erin writhed underneath him, drilling her heels down into the floor in a desperate attempt to ground herself and find some scrap of control. He drew himself away, his own breath now hitched. He pPushinged her legs further apart, he took in the sight of her and took pleasure in the pliability of his guest, her eyes silently begging for his touch. His hands danced a painfully slow ascent up her thighs. With each millimetre the rise and fall of her chest grew sharper in anticipation, until with a wicked smile he ended her agony and dipped his finger into the pooling heat between her legs. She let out a stifled cry.

"You really do want this, my, my you really do." He leant forward and swept her hair away, licking and biting at the exposed sensitive column of her neck.

"You don't have to be quiet, no one can hear you. I want to hear you."

Rhythmic fingers worked inside her, as his thumb skilfully brushed the sensitive bundle of nerves that was driving her close to the edge,; her hips now wilfully bucking against each thrust, her cries growing louder as he demanded. She was almost at the point of no return, grinding with every motion and clawing at his shoulders for something to hang on to when he stopped abruptly. Fear flashed across as her face that she would be left in this state, or there was a sudden change of heart.

"Please, please don't stop."

He slowly raised his fingers to his lips, still curled in a wicked smile of accomplishment and tasted each finger.

"You taste delicious and you are so fucking wet for me."

He lowered himself to his knees, shunting the table behind him out of the way, scattering the glasses. He paused and looked up at her from his new vantage point. She could feel his hot breath against her skin. He made her wait.

"Gabriel, please."

He obeyed. First with restrained soft flicks of his tongue, then a greedy mouth, only spurred on by her now loud and sharp squeals of pleasure as she came undone, his hands gripping her shaking legs so hard he was bound to mark her pale skin.

Without recovery giving her time to recover he was pulling her to her feet, s. Supporting her unsteady frame as he fumbled around trying to work out how to free her from her dress.

"How the hell do I get this off you?" he growled.

"Here," she steadied herself and slid the zip down at the side. She tugged it the dress slowly over her head and discarded it, before her arm instinctively shot back down to her side, the other sweeping across her stomach for security. He tried to push her arm away, but it was rooted down. Even in dim light, in the midst of her own urgent hunger, self-consciousness was still winning the fight.

"Don't hide, I want to see," his voice softened. He pulled her close and she allowed him to unhook her bra and slide it off with an unexpected, gentle reverence. She could feel him, hard, pressing against her. He was still fully dressed. He stepped back again, confused why she could spread her legs without shame then hide herself.

Her eyes were glassy.

He closed the space between them, brushing her hair away from her face, his mouth at her lips, then leaving a warm, damp trail down her neck.

"I've thought about this so much," he murmured as he nipped at the sensitive skin under her ear, "too much, constant distraction."

She whimpered softly. She knew what he meant.

She slowly slid her arms away from her own body and to his, raking her nails into his shoulders to plead for more, losing herself and her self-consciousness. She clung on, until she final relented and lessened her grip, allowing him to step away to admire her. He didn't even notice what had bothered her at first, too consumed with drinking in her the bare, lithe body in front of him. When he did work it out, he gave no sign, instead scooping her up and carrying her to the bed, laying her down carefully.

"Fucking glorious," he muttered as he quickly started to dispense with his own clothes until he was free of it.

She reached out, aching to touch him but he remained out of her grasp.

"I doubt this is going to last as long as I'd like it to, honey, and I am going to explode if I don't fuck you now."

His lips, tongue and teeth worked along her collar bone as he positioned himself between her legs and covered her with his strong frame.

He paused, his face suddenly serious. "Do you want this?" He almost begged for consent.

"Fuck me, Gabriel."

It was all he needed to hear. He groaned through gritted teeth as he thrust inside her, her tight, hot walls stretching to accommodate him, h. Her hips grinding back as he lost control and the slow teasing motion grew deeper, harder, faster. He raised himself to his knees, pulling her legs up, holding each ankle at his shoulders. The sheets bunched in her fists as she opened her eyes to drink in every movement of his strong body. His eyes burned with lust.

"Come for me, I need to feel it, fucking come for me."

He was fucking her so hard it almost hurt, his need, the delicious friction all drove her closer and closer until she couldn't hold back. She was bursting, gripping him inside her, eyes focused on him watching her coming underneath him until he could hold back no longer and he spilled into her.

They remained still for a moment, coming down gently from the high, until he collapsed down on the bed beside her. She propped herself up on one elbow.

His finger traced down her side. She winced as he touched the place she had tried to hide.

"Don't hide this, it's part of you."

"I don't have to like it."

"You're beautiful, it's part of you, so it's beautiful. Seriously though, you stand there naked and you think that's where I'm looking."

She smiled. She hated it, a deep red port wine stain down her side. It had covered most of the right side of her body as a child, a constant source of torment from other children too young and cruel to know better. Most of it was removed now, bar the parts of her body unsuitable for the invasive lasering needed to take the mark away. Its presence was a gnawing reminder of unhappier times. It drove her to make her appearance perfect, her hair, her make-up.

To let someone see it required a degree of trust she had never imagined would be given to the man beside her, yet he made her feel at peace. She'd stopped caring. It didn't matter her hair was mussed and wild, or that her painstakingly applied make-up was now smudged.

"You didn't seem that surprised to see it."

"It's in your file, distinguishing marks."

She elbowed him gently in the rib before with new-found confidence she straddled him, pinning him to the bed.

"Again?" he said with glee.

"At least twice more before you inevitably kick me out because the corridors are going to fill up for shift change."