A/N: This is AU. It's smut. If that's no' your cuppa tea, then read something else.

This story is pure, unapologetic smut. This is a briefer chapter than the last, but it seemed apropos to end this chapter here before diving into the next bit.

Thank you for your support and reviews, kudos, likes, and favourites! And thank you to CharlieFenwick for allowing my brain to run amuck with these two.


It had been two weeks since the polywater incident. Following the awkward event, Captain Picard had given a ship-wide announcement encouraging crewmembers to go about their business as usual and put the events of that day behind them.

The problem was Tasha couldn't seem to stop thinking about that afternoon.

Unable to push thoughts of the Lieutenant Commander from her mind, Tasha had done her best to avoid him at all costs.

It was impractical to alter her entire routine, but she had made a decent effort to avoid any extra run-ins. It was hard enough having to see him on the bridge during the alpha shift.

From her position at tactical, she had a prime view of him at the operations console where his agile fingers danced across the screen.

Tasha couldn't remember the last time she had felt like this. She had never been self-conscious. She didn't need affirmation from Data or anyone else.

Simply put, there was something so titillating about being desired.

It had electrified her in a way she hadn't felt in years. Everything about his words, the way he had looked at her, and the way he had touched her, told her that he wanted her. It wasn't just a line or a compliment.

On their last away mission, they had been sent down to retrieve a remote monitoring sensor that had been left for long-term observation on an M Class planet that experienced frequent seismic activity.

As they worked to remove the equipment there had been a moderately sized quake that had shaken the observation station pretty thoroughly. Data had grabbed Tasha and Worf and pulled them out of the path of a collapsing support beam as it had fallen from the ceiling.

That, in and of itself, was not unheard of. His android strength and reflexes meant that Data regularly intervened to protect fellow away team members.

What was strange was the look he'd given her. He'd said nothing, but they locked eyes and his hand lingered on her back longer than was professional.

His damn hands.

That night she had taken a long shower.

She wanted to convince herself that he genuinely had deep feelings for her.

But she knew that couldn't be rational. She had taken advantage of that sweet, dear man and now he had spent the last two weeks occupying her most personal thoughts.

Tasha took a sip of the synthesised whisky in front of her and let the burn run down her throat in an attempt to bring herself back to the present.

The weekly poker game among senior officers was an Enterprise tradition. Commander Riker believed it cultivated an atmosphere of camaraderie that was important to building the team.

Commander Riker, Counsellor Troi, Worf, Tasha, Geordi, Chief O'Brien, Doctor Crusher, and Data met each week on the holodeck for a few rounds of poker, drinks, and a chance to relax.

She did truly enjoy her time with the other officers. Tasha considered them all friends. And there was something to be said for the Enterprise "family" that served under Captain Picard.

Tasha had felt there was no way she could suddenly stop attending without raising suspicion. But now that she was here, sitting across the table from Data, she regretted that decision.

Mesmerised, she watched as his slim, pale fingers deftly shuffled the cards and began to deal them around the table.

Commander Riker blinked twice upon seeing his hand. That was his tell. He had a bad hand, but he was going to bluff. Tasha had never told them, but her upbringing on Turkana and security training meant they were all at a disadvantage. She had years of experience in reading the micro-expressions of others.

She knew that Doctor Crusher would uncross and then recross her legs if she had a good hand. Riker's tell was that he blinked twice and said nothing on a bad hand.

Whenever Geordi took a long time to decide he was sitting on a good hand. Miles would take a drink and pretend to be sceptical right until he dropped a well-played hand.

And Data, despite his insistence that he could show no emotion, was the easiest to read of them all.

If his cards were favourable, he would ask Commander Riker an unrelated question – do humans feel rested after daydreaming? Is it easier to love or be loved? Why did humans create luncheon meats and cheeses in differing sizes if the purpose is to eat them together?

If his cards were unfavourable, then he would hyper focus on the game. He would babble on about the rules of the game, playing card tricks, the size of cards, or the history of gambling.

"Commander Riker, in your experience do romantic interests find physical or verbal affirmation more pleasing?" Data inquired.

So, he did have a good hand.

Commander Riker laughed and leaned back in his chair.

"Are you asking me for dating advice?" Riker said with a broad grin.

"No, sir. I have recently begun a study of Romantic Era literature," Data replied simply.

She studied him carefully. He was sitting perfectly still, eyes locked on his cards.

Prior to the polywater incident, she had been curious as to what his hair would feel like. It had been surprisingly soft and felt no different than human hair.

And it had looked so becoming after she had clutched onto it, grasping it as his tongue had brought her to orgasm.

Had someone told her two weeks earlier that the same man with that ridiculous visor could have looked so wanton and delectable, she would never have believed it.

That is, until he had.

She was unable to shake the image of his golden eyes staring up at her with a wild look in them, his mouth glistening with her slick, his pristine hair deliciously dishevelled.

Tasha hated his hat.

She wanted to rip that stupid green visor off his head.

Truth be told, she would like to rip his uniform off too.

She wanted to straddle him, to sink down slowly on the length of him, to feel the sensation of his body against hers, and the artificial pulse of his cooling system flush with the beating of her heart.

If she could have her way, she'd take him right there in that chair.

She yearned to feel his fingers dig into the flesh on her arse as she rode him.

Tasha needed to run her fingers through his hair and pull his head back to watch the reaction in his face as she bounced on his cock.

Would he close his eyes and let his mouth hang open while soft panting escaped from his lips?

Or would he hold her gaze and thrust up into her, coaxing her along to an orgasm with words of encouragement?

"You taste so good," she imagined him saying as she thought about the sensation of his lips on her neck, her shoulders, and her breasts.

"Lieutenant Yar?" Data asked.

"Mmmm," she responded, lost in thought.

She jumped as Geordi placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Is everything alright?" Geordi asked as he looked at her, noting there was a rise in her body temperature.

"I'm fine," she replied as she collected herself. "Sorry, I drifted off for a moment."

"It is your bet, Lieutenant," Data explained.

Tasha was unable to make eye contact with Data the rest of the night, a move that did not go unnoticed by the perceptive android.


After the game had ended and the crew had filtered out, Data remained behind with Geordi.

"Geordi, may I ask you a question?" Data said as he put away the cards from their game.

"Sure, Data," Geordi replied as he sorted the chips.

"If you suspected someone was avoiding you because of something you did – and you did not want to lose their friendship – would it be appropriate to speak with them? Or would humans prefer to be left alone," Data inquired.

Geordi shrugged.

"I supposed It depends on the person. Some people prefer to be left alone and come around on their own terms. Other people are more direct and would rather have a face-to-face," Geordi explained.

Data contemplated Geordi's words.

Tasha was quite direct. She was the type of person humans described as 'frank' or 'blunt.' Based on Geordi's advice, Data decided it would be best to approach Tasha directly to clear up the situation.

She had insisted 'it never happened.' She had made clear her desire was to act as if their coupling had never occurred.

Yet, she seemed to be more fatigued the last few days. She was nervous around him. As of late, she was now even avoiding his eye contact.

He was concerned that his attendance at poker night had caused her this frustration, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause her further discomfort.


When Tasha had reached her quarters, she quickly locked her door and immediately headed to her bedroom.

"Computer, kill the lights," she ordered as she unzipped her uniform and unceremoniously threw it aside.

Everything about what she was doing felt wrong.

She rationalised to herself that this may feel wrong, but it was the most ethical choice she had.

In her mind, her options were limited.

She wanted Data. She had sat across from him, wet, for over an hour.

Sure, she could go to Ten Forward and find someone to satisfy her needs, but it wouldn't be the same.

And it would not be fair to whatever poor ensign she'd bat her eyes at thinking she wanted him but not knowing he was just a substitute, a fix for her craving.

No, this was her problem, and it was her responsibility to take care of it.

She pulled back the bedding and was about to climb in when suddenly her door chimed.

Tasha growled in frustration and pulled on her dressing gown.

Padding across the carpet to her doorway, she hoped it wasn't going to take too long.

The door slid open, and she found herself face-to-face with Data.

"Commander," she said stiffly.

"Have I disturbed you?" Data asked politely. "Do you have company?"

She noticed his eyes scanning the room behind her and a disturbing thought entered her mind.

Data's olfactory senses were significantly stronger than humans. She squeezed her legs together under her gown, embarrassed by her arousal.

"I'm just going to sleep," Tasha replied.

From the look on his face, it was evident he did not believe her.

"I am sorry to visit your quarters so late. I have observed you avoided eye contact with me earlier and I wanted to apologise if I have made you uncomfortable," Data stated.

You have no idea what you do to me. Her mind screamed.

He was right there in front of her. So close.

Tasha was tempted.

"Would it be alright if we were to talk?" Data asked.

For the first time since the poker game, she looked at him.

She didn't respond.

Data observed she appeared to be struggling to decide. He found it most perplexing. Her body language did not seem to align with her words.

He followed her gaze as her eyes ran up and down the length of his body before responding.

"I'm sorry, Commander. Now isn't a good time," she replied.

She knew if she invited him into her quarters it would be game over. She couldn't be this close to him, not like this.

It had been hard enough to keep herself composed during the poker game in a room full of people. There was no way she could invite him into the dark of he quarters, naked under her dressing gown, without doing something she would regret.

Would you though? A little voice in her head asked.

"I would be happy to stop attending the poker nights if that would please you," Data said.

"That is not necessary, Commander. Really," Tasha insisted.

"Are you alright? I am concerned about your-" Data stopped as Tasha put her hand out.

"I'm fine, Data. Thank you. Goodnight," she said firmly.


Data returned to his quarters feeling utterly confused by his encounter with Lieutenant Yar. The last two weeks had left him with many questions.

He had noticed Tasha watching him for extended periods of time on thirty-nine separate occasions since the polywater incident. This included two separate occasions where she had eyed him up and down on away missions when she didn't think he was looking. His peripheral visual receptors were superior to human eyes and he was capable of deciphering even subtle changes in eye movement.

In addition, there had been a marked change in her behaviour.

Data had attempted to discreetly observe and track these changes for several reasons. Most importantly, he was concerned about her wellbeing. He was aware of some of the details of her upbringing. He knew she had survived a traumatic childhood and sexual assault on Turkana IV.

Everything about her seemed to be conflicted.

Internally, Data was conflicted too. He found his neural net was overcome with thoughts of her. He had replayed their coupling and the subsequent flirtation in sickbay a total of seventy-three times.

Initially his efforts had been scientific. He wanted to study and understand the event and her reactions.

Over time, he realised he was replaying the memory engrams because he was drawn to them.

Is this pleasure? He mused to himself.

It did not feel ethical, and yet his ethical programme had not stopped him. It was the only solution he had found to be successful in rerouting his neural net back to work.

Leaning back in the chair at his workstation, Data instructed the computer to lower the lights in his quarters.

"Computer, begin music file 87941," Data instructed.

The sound of a soft saxophone in A-flat major began to fill his quarters.

The mere idea of you, the longing here for you. You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you.

As the baritone voice crooned, Data closed his eyes and found his positronic brain overcome with thoughts of the Chief Security officer and the sound of her laugh.

During their time serving together, Data had found Tasha to be a capable security chief. She shared his commitment to Starfleet, and he found that admirable. During their missions, she had proven herself to be a dedicated and thoughtful officer.

In their spare time, Data and Tasha had spent time together along with the other officers. She was bright and witty, and he was captivated by her smile. He found he missed her presence when they were not together, and he looked forward to the times they would see one another.

I see your face in every flower. Your eyes in the stars above.

He liked her eyes- the way they twinkled when she grinned, how they had radiated power in the face of the Q, and the way they had looked up at him as he took her against the wall.

Data's internal processor sped up. His sexuality programming had activated, and his erection strained against the tightness of his uniform trousers.

He gripped the zipper in his hand and pulled it down, exposing his chest. Gripping his fingers around himself he thought back to the way her hand had felt as she had stroked him in sickbay.

Running his thumb across the lubrication that had secreted from the head of his cock, he began to stroke himself.

It was not comparable to the experience they had shared, but it would be sufficient to meet his needs.

He longed for the feeling of her.

She had felt remarkably soft.

And warm.

And wet.

"For you, Data," she had said.

He liked the way her fingers had felt in his hair. He had experienced sex before, but no one had ever touched him like that. Most of his previous encounters had been humans or Vulcans eager to use an anatomically accurate android for their own pleasure.

"I want you," she had told him, and he had believed her.

Data squeezed himself tighter in an effort to mimic the way she had felt.

He allowed himself to theorise what may have happened had her invitation in sickbay been genuine.

There were so many things he had wanted to say to her.

He would tell her she felt tight and that he liked the feel of her skin against his own. He would tell her the shade of her eyes was enchanting. And he would tell her he wanted more of her.

There were also a great many things he wanted to hear from her.

He theorised she would have a sharp intake of breath as he imagined slipping inside her. He wanted her to describe the feeling to him.

He would like to run his hand along the curve of her breast, taste her lips, and watch her shake apart in ecstasy.

He wanted to hear her cry his name and then bite her lip in the way that made his neural net overload.

It's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love.

He thrust his hips up into his hand.

A small 'ah' escaped softly from his golden lips as his biofluid shot out over his hand and onto his uniform.

He let go of himself as his breathing slowed. He sat there like that for a moment before instructing the computer to cease playback.

He stripped out of his uniform and threw it into the garment recycler.

Data surmised it was likely a good thing Lieutenant Yar had not been willing to talk.

Had she invited him in, there was a high probability he would have found himself saying something he shouldn't – certainly not something a Second Officer should say to someone in their direct chain of command.

"Commander," his mind replayed the way she had sounded when she spoke his rank.

As he settled back into his workstation, he realised he desperately needed a new project to take his mind off things.