Title: Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice
Author: Chrysa, Jyorraku
Rating: PG-13
Category: Humor, Romance
Codes: R/S
Summary: On with the kissage!
Declaration: MARA IS A BETA GODDESS.
Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice
Part I: Hoshi
It all started out so innocently.
Of course, all things start out innocently, a la the road to hell is paved with good intentions, unless you've got a very nefarious intention to begin with, but that's neither here nor there.
All right, it all started on that mission to Merysa, your typical Minshara-class prewarp civilization. Captain Archer went into his "Ohh, Shiny!" mode and it was decided, albeit over Sub-Commander T'Pol's laconic eyebrow-raising protests, that we would go undercover to gather some information.
I wish it had ended there with plastic alien appendages and impending skin rashes. I should have known from the beginning that it wasn't going your typical mission, when I saw the costume I had to wear. Let's just say it didn't leave very much to the imagination. But I didn't see my teammates--consisting of Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed--react oddly to my alien getup. I didn't know whether to be glad that they were being professionals or upset that I didn't even get a double take in my skimpy little outfit. So I didn't have a figure that made women hate me and men love me at first sight, but I've still got a little vanity. It wouldn't have hurt to see the finest in Starfleet admiring my assets for a second or two, you know?
Once again, I learned that platitudes get to be platitudes because they're true most of the time. "Be careful what you wish for!" Indeed. As we returned from the surface, the shuttle ran into some turbulence. My seatbelt, which by my own admission wasn't securely fashioned, came apart. I flipped out of my seat...and fell right into Malcolm's lap. He had the good grace to wrap his arms around me to keep me from being injured, despite my rather rough landing on him. The shuttlepod rocked about the Merysian atmosphere as my scantily-clad self rocked about Malcolm Reed's decidedly toned body.
When we were finally out of the bad air pocket, Captain Archer gave us the all-clear.
Yes, Hoshi dear, get off the nice man's lap now. I turned my head up and around to give him a smile of gratitude, just as he leaned down, to see if I was okay, I suppose. There was such perfect coordination that I was glad Captain Archer kept his eyes on the viewscreen instead of looking back at us, otherwise I couldn't have explained myself or Malcolm.
The unexplainable result of the aforementioned synchrony was his lips brushing against mine, a faint feathery touch that had him jerking his head away in surprise. The intimate, though accidental, contact of lips, along with the eventual stillness of the shuttlepod, made me realize that it wasn't the arm of the chair or the buckle of the seatbelt that made my current seating situation . . . bumpy.
I don't know what possessed me to say what I said next. Perhaps, like my brothers said, I do have a mean streak beneath my seemingly innocent goodie-goodie exterior. Whatever it was, the words took a one-way trip out of my mouth, laughing all the way.
"My, I didn't know they made phase pistols this large," I blurted out, instantly astounded, and a smidgen proud, of my own audacity. However, I was unaware that Malcolm's face, or anyone's face for that matter, could turn so red, so quickly. He opened his mouth, to offer a smart retort in his defense, I'm almost certain of it, but couldn't find the words as I moved to extricate myself from his arms. I was so wickedly amused that I belatedly discovered that sometime during the turbulence, the string holding my little top together had snapped and the only thing keeping the thin cloth from falling was Malcolm's chest.
"Perhaps you should return to your seat now," he growled impatiently when he realized I had no intention of getting up, oblivious to my dilemma.
"I can't," I whispered, feeling heat crawling up my neck. Oh, how I hate instant karma.
He looked pained. "Why the bloody hell not?!"
"Because you're the only thing keeping my bloody top from falling off!" I shot back.
He automatically glanced down at the proximity of my chest.
"Hey!" I pinched his arm. "Don't look!" I exclaimed, hopefully sounding sufficiently outraged.
If he was red before, he was blushing tomato now. Was it with the embarrassment that he did something so completely male? Or just about our current situation in general? I wasn't sure. And as if it couldn't get much worse . . .
"You two okay?" Captain Archer stuck his head back at us, his brows drawn in a familiar furrow.
Malcolm closed his eyes for a brief second, possibly wishing for some sort of divine intervention. My top, however, short of that miracle Malcolm was praying for, wasn't going to automatically return itself into an upright position.
"Fine, sir," I called to Captain Archer before turning back to face Malcolm, just opening his eyes. My lips twitched and I felt a semi-hysterical giggle bubbling in my chest as I realized that he probably didn't see this coming when he signed up to be the armory officer of the Enterprise. "Never better," I added, my voice cracking as I stared into his mortified eyes.
Said eyes narrowed at me, obviously peeved that I was having fun at his expense. Oh oh. Not a good idea to have the guy with the trigger-happy finger mad at you, Hoshi.
"Just hold still for a minute, okay?" I whispered, reaching for the multitude of strings and trying to retie them behind my back. It could have ended right there. It should have. I don't know whom I pissed off in my past life but he or she was really going for the all or nothing on the payback scale.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" I squeaked as a cramp decided to make itself known by setting my shoulder on fire. This really impeded me from tying my top back on. It also made Malcolm frown so hard that for a second there I thought his forehead was in danger of caving in.
"What? What is it now?" he wheezed. As if this was all my doing. Yes, muscle cramps and me, we're like this, they show themselves every so often and I put out the good china.
"A cramp in my shoulder. I can't move my arm," I explained with the growing realization that if I couldn't move my arm, there was really only one way to get around this situation.
"You can't move your arm," he repeated slowly back to me, perhaps thinking that if he said it again, slowly, my muscles would realize their grievous error and return to a state that would enable me to go back to the task at hand. Right.
Must. Not. Roll. My. Eyes.
"Look, just reach down for a couple of those string thingies and tie them together. It's not that hard!"
He made an effort to breath through his nose, and failed rather miserably. "It wouldn't be hard at all if you'd worn something that wasn't so lacking in structural integrity!"
Okay, you know, he really fell into that one through no fault of my own. I wasn't even trying to go there. In fact, after my initial crack, I was dutifully ignoring my bumpy seating arrangement. But after that comment, who could blame me? Who indeed?
A giggle forced itself through my staunchly pursed lips. Malcolm, after the initial mental constipation, realized the double entendre of his words and choked, his face going up in glorious flames.
I don't know what was wrong with me. Maybe it was cramped space in the shuttle, or the fact that the unflappable Malcolm Reed was clearly . . . flapped. But I was really enjoying this. Maybe too much.
After taking several deep chest-heaving breaths, a resolute Malcolm clenched his jaw and appeared to prepare for the task ahead. You would have thought fixing my clothing was right up there with cruel and unusual punishment. Yet all the words went the way of the pigeons when his calloused fingers started probing hesitantly against my bare skin. I shivered despite myself. As I said, I was obviously enjoying myself way too much.
And as he peered over my shoulder to see what he was doing, I, in turn, with nothing else better to do but wait, became mesmerized by the texture of his neck, that part where his hairline faded into skin. I had an almost irresistible urge to touch it, to confirm that it was as smooth and taut as it looked. However, at that moment, my arms were trapped against my sides and somehow I doubted a sudden movement would go across very well with him. So I did the next best thing, or what I thought was the next best thing. The perversity of my mind is still a mystery to me today. Looking back on it, it probably wasn't a very smart thing to do. In fact, it was something like observing a train wreck. I had an out-of-body experience and watched myself from afar, eyes peeking through fingers that were already in that oh-shit-here-it-comes position.
I leaned in closer, breathing open-mouthed against the patch of skin, watching with morbid fascination as the little hairs rose at attention. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt his fingers behind me jerk into an abrupt stop as his body went tense. Yeah, if I could have foreseen what I was about to do, I would have braced myself too.
I, Ensign Hoshi Sato, Communications Officer, Ex-Exo-Linguistics Professor, proud daughter of Miyu and Ryuuji Sato, licked Malcolm Reed's neck.
Author: Chrysa, Jyorraku
Rating: PG-13
Category: Humor, Romance
Codes: R/S
Summary: On with the kissage!
Declaration: MARA IS A BETA GODDESS.
Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice
Part I: Hoshi
It all started out so innocently.
Of course, all things start out innocently, a la the road to hell is paved with good intentions, unless you've got a very nefarious intention to begin with, but that's neither here nor there.
All right, it all started on that mission to Merysa, your typical Minshara-class prewarp civilization. Captain Archer went into his "Ohh, Shiny!" mode and it was decided, albeit over Sub-Commander T'Pol's laconic eyebrow-raising protests, that we would go undercover to gather some information.
I wish it had ended there with plastic alien appendages and impending skin rashes. I should have known from the beginning that it wasn't going your typical mission, when I saw the costume I had to wear. Let's just say it didn't leave very much to the imagination. But I didn't see my teammates--consisting of Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed--react oddly to my alien getup. I didn't know whether to be glad that they were being professionals or upset that I didn't even get a double take in my skimpy little outfit. So I didn't have a figure that made women hate me and men love me at first sight, but I've still got a little vanity. It wouldn't have hurt to see the finest in Starfleet admiring my assets for a second or two, you know?
Once again, I learned that platitudes get to be platitudes because they're true most of the time. "Be careful what you wish for!" Indeed. As we returned from the surface, the shuttle ran into some turbulence. My seatbelt, which by my own admission wasn't securely fashioned, came apart. I flipped out of my seat...and fell right into Malcolm's lap. He had the good grace to wrap his arms around me to keep me from being injured, despite my rather rough landing on him. The shuttlepod rocked about the Merysian atmosphere as my scantily-clad self rocked about Malcolm Reed's decidedly toned body.
When we were finally out of the bad air pocket, Captain Archer gave us the all-clear.
Yes, Hoshi dear, get off the nice man's lap now. I turned my head up and around to give him a smile of gratitude, just as he leaned down, to see if I was okay, I suppose. There was such perfect coordination that I was glad Captain Archer kept his eyes on the viewscreen instead of looking back at us, otherwise I couldn't have explained myself or Malcolm.
The unexplainable result of the aforementioned synchrony was his lips brushing against mine, a faint feathery touch that had him jerking his head away in surprise. The intimate, though accidental, contact of lips, along with the eventual stillness of the shuttlepod, made me realize that it wasn't the arm of the chair or the buckle of the seatbelt that made my current seating situation . . . bumpy.
I don't know what possessed me to say what I said next. Perhaps, like my brothers said, I do have a mean streak beneath my seemingly innocent goodie-goodie exterior. Whatever it was, the words took a one-way trip out of my mouth, laughing all the way.
"My, I didn't know they made phase pistols this large," I blurted out, instantly astounded, and a smidgen proud, of my own audacity. However, I was unaware that Malcolm's face, or anyone's face for that matter, could turn so red, so quickly. He opened his mouth, to offer a smart retort in his defense, I'm almost certain of it, but couldn't find the words as I moved to extricate myself from his arms. I was so wickedly amused that I belatedly discovered that sometime during the turbulence, the string holding my little top together had snapped and the only thing keeping the thin cloth from falling was Malcolm's chest.
"Perhaps you should return to your seat now," he growled impatiently when he realized I had no intention of getting up, oblivious to my dilemma.
"I can't," I whispered, feeling heat crawling up my neck. Oh, how I hate instant karma.
He looked pained. "Why the bloody hell not?!"
"Because you're the only thing keeping my bloody top from falling off!" I shot back.
He automatically glanced down at the proximity of my chest.
"Hey!" I pinched his arm. "Don't look!" I exclaimed, hopefully sounding sufficiently outraged.
If he was red before, he was blushing tomato now. Was it with the embarrassment that he did something so completely male? Or just about our current situation in general? I wasn't sure. And as if it couldn't get much worse . . .
"You two okay?" Captain Archer stuck his head back at us, his brows drawn in a familiar furrow.
Malcolm closed his eyes for a brief second, possibly wishing for some sort of divine intervention. My top, however, short of that miracle Malcolm was praying for, wasn't going to automatically return itself into an upright position.
"Fine, sir," I called to Captain Archer before turning back to face Malcolm, just opening his eyes. My lips twitched and I felt a semi-hysterical giggle bubbling in my chest as I realized that he probably didn't see this coming when he signed up to be the armory officer of the Enterprise. "Never better," I added, my voice cracking as I stared into his mortified eyes.
Said eyes narrowed at me, obviously peeved that I was having fun at his expense. Oh oh. Not a good idea to have the guy with the trigger-happy finger mad at you, Hoshi.
"Just hold still for a minute, okay?" I whispered, reaching for the multitude of strings and trying to retie them behind my back. It could have ended right there. It should have. I don't know whom I pissed off in my past life but he or she was really going for the all or nothing on the payback scale.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" I squeaked as a cramp decided to make itself known by setting my shoulder on fire. This really impeded me from tying my top back on. It also made Malcolm frown so hard that for a second there I thought his forehead was in danger of caving in.
"What? What is it now?" he wheezed. As if this was all my doing. Yes, muscle cramps and me, we're like this, they show themselves every so often and I put out the good china.
"A cramp in my shoulder. I can't move my arm," I explained with the growing realization that if I couldn't move my arm, there was really only one way to get around this situation.
"You can't move your arm," he repeated slowly back to me, perhaps thinking that if he said it again, slowly, my muscles would realize their grievous error and return to a state that would enable me to go back to the task at hand. Right.
Must. Not. Roll. My. Eyes.
"Look, just reach down for a couple of those string thingies and tie them together. It's not that hard!"
He made an effort to breath through his nose, and failed rather miserably. "It wouldn't be hard at all if you'd worn something that wasn't so lacking in structural integrity!"
Okay, you know, he really fell into that one through no fault of my own. I wasn't even trying to go there. In fact, after my initial crack, I was dutifully ignoring my bumpy seating arrangement. But after that comment, who could blame me? Who indeed?
A giggle forced itself through my staunchly pursed lips. Malcolm, after the initial mental constipation, realized the double entendre of his words and choked, his face going up in glorious flames.
I don't know what was wrong with me. Maybe it was cramped space in the shuttle, or the fact that the unflappable Malcolm Reed was clearly . . . flapped. But I was really enjoying this. Maybe too much.
After taking several deep chest-heaving breaths, a resolute Malcolm clenched his jaw and appeared to prepare for the task ahead. You would have thought fixing my clothing was right up there with cruel and unusual punishment. Yet all the words went the way of the pigeons when his calloused fingers started probing hesitantly against my bare skin. I shivered despite myself. As I said, I was obviously enjoying myself way too much.
And as he peered over my shoulder to see what he was doing, I, in turn, with nothing else better to do but wait, became mesmerized by the texture of his neck, that part where his hairline faded into skin. I had an almost irresistible urge to touch it, to confirm that it was as smooth and taut as it looked. However, at that moment, my arms were trapped against my sides and somehow I doubted a sudden movement would go across very well with him. So I did the next best thing, or what I thought was the next best thing. The perversity of my mind is still a mystery to me today. Looking back on it, it probably wasn't a very smart thing to do. In fact, it was something like observing a train wreck. I had an out-of-body experience and watched myself from afar, eyes peeking through fingers that were already in that oh-shit-here-it-comes position.
I leaned in closer, breathing open-mouthed against the patch of skin, watching with morbid fascination as the little hairs rose at attention. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt his fingers behind me jerk into an abrupt stop as his body went tense. Yeah, if I could have foreseen what I was about to do, I would have braced myself too.
I, Ensign Hoshi Sato, Communications Officer, Ex-Exo-Linguistics Professor, proud daughter of Miyu and Ryuuji Sato, licked Malcolm Reed's neck.