Disclaimer :: I don't own anything Star Trek. Or Data... though I wish I could... But Starfleet ruled that he is sentient and, therefore, not property.
Dream 11
Data stepped into his quarters at just after 0700 hours. 0712, after a short debriefing of the Night Watch with Commander Riker and then the brief turbolift ride to Deck Eight. He wasn't necessarily tired, but his sheets were calling to him, asking him to bed.
"Computer, secure door."
There was a noise of electronic acknowledgement from the ship's systems.
Data slipped his fingers against the collar of his uniform jacket and gave an easy tug, pulling the material open down his front.
He draped the jacket over the corner of his desk and slipped off his shoes. Then his socks.
Padding barefoot toward his bedroom, Data lifted his black undershirt over his head to drop it on the floor near the foot of the bed.
His fingers loosed the waist of his dark trousers and his legs were free.
Data crawled contently into his bed, the soft embrace of pillows and sheets against his skin, and activated his sleep program.
- Data tumbled into sleep ...and opened his eyes lying on his right side - and gazing into her light grey eyes.
He took a breath - inhaled her scent of honeysuckle and silk...
He felt her shift against him... And press forward for a slow kiss...
Data sighed as they parted... his whole body singing with sensation...
"You are made of silk..." ...her voice a whisper...
They were wrapped up in swaths of warm, white silk, light as threadbare soft cotton... The sheets slipped lovingly over Data's skin with the smallest of movements...
And the surrounding was white... Pale and vague... Contrasting against Data's pale gold skin... As if he were surrounded - wrapped completely - in her alabaster being...
He pressed forward...
His left hand shifted beneath the silky coverings to find her bare hip...
His lip found her mouth and whispered gently against her for long moments...
And she eased to him... letting him in...
Her hip rolled lightly into his contented palm...
It was like drowning in sleep... A blurry, vague warmth of kissings and touchings and silk slipping against his body...
Her hands wandered over the lines of his throat and collarbone... And she was learning the lines of his chest... the soft indents of his hips...
Her mouth like soft powder against his...
...like butterfly kisses in the dark...
Data ran his broad hands across her throat and collarbone... their lines, arcs and valleys soft under his gentle fingers...
He pressed forward...
His left hand shifted beneath the silky coverings to find her bare hip...
His mouth deepening the longing French kiss, his tongue easing forward to taste her warmth...
...soft, slow mouth motions...
...warm caressings and sighings...
His hands sank across her abdomen, traveling down her chest, over her breasts and the warm expanse of her waist...
Data broke the kiss, breathlessly, following his hands south, over her body...
His fingers caressed the arcs and valleys of her hips... the soft rise of the bone... His thumbs learning their lines -
And his mouth fell on her skin. He felt her let out a breath at the warmth of his lip - and then at the testing of his tongue...
...his mouth worked at her skin...
...his gentle fingers, his soft thumb, learned her hips...
"Data..." Her voice breathed his name...
He looked up, across the plains of her skin... vast swaths of pale flesh against the white silk of the sheets...
Data sighed deeply and buried his face against her belly, his nose nuzzling the silk of her skin.
His mouth parted. He breathed her in and sighed against her skin. And lipped against her skin - the pale, alabaster silk of her skin!
Her fingers wound into his hair... groping at his scalp... playing through his dark locks...
Her fingers curled in his hair at the back of his head...
Data's mouth working her silken skin in slow lippings and tongueings and quiet breaths...
...and her fingers curled in his hair at the nape of his neck...
And Data rose away from her belly, inhaling her scent of honeysuckle and silk, feeling her skin against him...
And his lip found her mouth for a slow kiss...
"You are made of silk..." ...his voice a whisper...
And he pressed forward... wrapped up in swaths of warm, white silk that slipped lovingly over his skin with the smallest of movements...
...his lip finding her mouth in soft, slow mouth motions...
- Data opened his eyes to the dark ceiling of his quarters. His mind was still wrapped up in all that silk... in her silk... He took slow, even breaths and let himself relax against the bedtop. His eyes sank, closing slowly, to drown him in her soft warmth again...
~.oOo.~
AN :: fri oct 24, 2014 :: i've recently discovered i love the thought of Data taking off his uniform jacket and what that must look like... cannon ref in tng ep 503, "ensign ro." ...i also like that this gives a little look into Data's post-shift routine... this is also referencing MSMR's "head is not my home," and a really rather lovely dream i had several weeks ago. ^_^
"My mouth, your lips, your hands, my hips... Our time right now will set us free, and relieve us of our misery... Your kiss tastes better outside the light of day... Hard to believe, you could cause me harm, this could cause me harm..."
the silk obsession kind of started with Lady Gaga and "donatella" : "i wanna dress you up in silk, taffeta... tailor these clothes to fit your guilt, what's your size?"
Alpha:0700-1500, Beta:1500-2300, Gamma:2300-0700
again, for original and semi poetic workings from me, check out TAPo_o on twitter.