[2380] - Running Hot to Rho Aurigae V

July 27, 2025, 04:47:43 AM

[Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Shuttle Delvok]

En route to the diplomatic station at Rho Aurigae V

Enyd reclined in the co-pilot seat of the Delvok, her boots crossed neatly at the ankles, a PADD resting in her lap. She was acutely aware of the sliver of skin between her boots and bottom of her uniform skirt, but she wasn’t about to drop her feet or tug the skirt down. She was midway through translating a particularly thorny segment of Rho Aurigae protocol into layman's terms and had only so much more time before they arrived. Worrying about propriety was for diplomats who had the time to do so.

Her furrowed brow relaxed into an expression of amusement when, over her shoulder, she heard another hum. She was curious if Ensign Banks even knew of his habit. He hummed or whistled under his breath as he worked. Far from being annoying, though it was a bit distracting, Enyd found it endearing and almost a comfort. They’d begun working together more closely almost ten months back, and in that time, he’d seen her go from being a royal mess just coming out of her pilgrimage through the Forge and all her drunken shenanigans prior to that to what she was now: still a hot mess but a damn good diplomat.

The overhead panel gave a sharp pop, pulling Enyd’s attention away from internal musings.

Edmund's voice came casually from the helm, rich and warm like aged whiskey. "Did you hear that?"

"I heard that," Enyd confirmed, sitting up straighter.

The lights flickered once—then twice. Then the humming background of the shuttle's environmental controls coughed... and died. Silence reigned for three seconds before the heat crept in.

"Ah, perfect," Edmund muttered, running diagnostics as a thin sheen of moisture began to form along his temple. Enyd was surprised at how quickly he’d worked up a sweat, even just by sitting at the helm. He was one of those “walking doors” types, who could also double as a door if need be. "Environmental failure. The temperature regulator just decided to take shore leave."

Enyd leaned forward. "Can you reroute power to the cooling system?" She wasn’t the most well-versed in shuttle circuitry, but she at least knew a little.

"I could," Edmund replied, his usually composed tone tinged with annoyance, "if half the circuitry hadn't shorted. Looks like we'll have to do this manually. Access panel's beneath the port-side conduit bay."

"Manual labor?" Enyd joked, rising from her seat with a smirk. "How quaint."

They knelt together near the access panel, Enyd acutely aware of every inch of space between them—and the smaller it got, the more the heat became an accomplice to her racing pulse.

"I know we're stranded," she muttered, her voice breathier than intended, her undershirt already beginning to cling to her curves, "but I didn't think this would double as a sauna escape room."

Edmund chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine despite the heat, and unfastened the collar of his shirt with practiced ease. His fingers worked the fastenings slowly, deliberately, as if he knew she was watching. "Well, if you pass out from heatstroke, I promise to rescue you dramatically."

The shirt came off in one fluid motion, revealing golden skin that seemed to glow in the emergency lighting. Enyd's mouth went dry for reasons that had nothing to do with the heat. Edmund's uniform jacket was abandoned entirely, revealing a similar sleeveless undershirt that molded to his torso like liquid, showcasing the muscles that flexed with each movement. Enyd found herself stealing glances at the way his shoulders moved, the strong line of his neck glistening with perspiration.

"With mouth-to-mouth, I assume?" she managed, her fingers trembling slightly as she loosened her own outer tunic, aware of how his eyes tracked the movement.

"Standard protocol," Edmund said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his gaze lingered appreciatively on the newly exposed skin at her throat. "And I do follow procedure... thoroughly."

She blinked up at him, pausing in her motion as something electric passed between them. His eyes met hers and held with an intensity that made her feel like she was melting from the inside out. The silence between them changed, stretched.

But then she remembered. She’d worked so hard to pull herself out of the hole she’d dug for herself when first getting stationed on Vulcan. She was on the upward swing of recovering her reputation. Giving into the temptation to lean into this, whatever it was, sizzling between them would only make it harder to continue on the up and up.

"Panel's open," she murmured, swallowing hard. Her voice felt thick, honey-sweet in the sultry air.

"Right." Edmund leaned in, close enough that she could smell his skin—clean sweat and something uniquely masculine that made her want to press her face against his neck. Their shoulders brushed, sending sparks racing along her nerves. Her arm bumped his. Their hands moved simultaneously toward the same coil, fingers grazing in a touch that lingered longer than necessary. They froze, the moment suspended like amber.

"So... you always end up half-dressed in broken shuttles with diplomats?" she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

His smile was slow, predatory. "Only the irresistibly clumsy ones."

She laughed, but her fingers trembled as she passed him the plasma torch, their skin brushing again in a touch that sent heat spiraling through her core. "Flatterer."

They worked in tandem, sweat beading at their temples, breath growing shallow with the heat and proximity. At one point, Edmund leaned across her to adjust a fuse, his chest brushing her shoulder, his body caging her in. His scent enveloped her—masculine and intoxicating. Her breath caught, and she felt rather than saw him pause, felt the moment stretch as he lingered there, his warmth surrounding her.

"Careful," he murmured near her ear, his voice like velvet wrapped around steel, his breath hot against her neck.

"Careful is relative," she whispered back, tilting her head slightly so that her lips almost—almost—brushed his jaw.

The moment held—longer than it should have, dangerous and sweet. Their faces inches apart, their breathing in sync, hearts hammering a rhythm that had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with the fire building between them.

Then—

The panel sparked. The console chirped. Cooling systems flickered back to life with a welcome whoosh, but the heat between them remained.

"Look at that," Enyd said lightly, though her cheeks burned with more than temperature, her body still humming from his proximity.

Edmund leaned back on his heels, his smile slow, knowing, hungry. "Next time, I'm filing a request for two environmental suits. Just in case."

She arched an eyebrow, reaching for her now-crumpled blouse with hands that still trembled slightly. "Where would be the fun in that?"

They dressed in companionable silence, but the charged air lingered between them. Whatever had sparked between them wasn't finished. And both of them knew it.

Half an hour later, the cool air hummed pleasantly now, cycling evenly through the restored system. Enyd had returned to her seat, hair pulled into a loose knot that exposed the elegant curve of her neck, tendrils still damp from the heat framing her face. Edmund remained at the helm, one arm draped along the back of her chair in a gesture that seemed casual but felt possessive, his fingers occasionally brushing her shoulder as he rechecked navigational vectors.

The tension between them hadn't disappeared. If anything, it simmered now beneath every shared glance and unspoken smile.

"Approaching the diplomatic station," Edmund said smoothly, his voice still carrying that hint of roughness that made her stomach flutter. His fingers danced across the console with practiced grace. "Prep for docking—"

Whump.

A shudder ran through the shuttle. The console dimmed.

Brrrrp.

The lights flickered again—and then the inertial dampeners failed.

Enyd yelped as the shuttle tilted sharply to port. She fell against Edmund, landing squarely in his lap as the seat restraints failed to engage, her body molding against his in a perfect fit that sent heat racing through both of them.

"Oof—sorry!" she exclaimed, but her protest died on her lips as she found herself pressed intimately against him, her hands braced on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. "That wasn't me! I mean, not entirely me—"

Edmund's arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, his hands spanning her ribs, fingers splaying possessively across her back. His laugh was breathless, strained. "You really know how to crash a party."

"Or a shuttle," she muttered, acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched—her thighs straddling his, her breasts pressed against his chest, the heat of him seeping through their clothes. She tried to rise, but the sudden lurch of the floor threw her off balance again—and she ended up nose-to-nose with him, so close she could count his eyelashes, could feel his breath warm against her lips.

"Maybe just... stay there," Edmund said softly, his voice rough with something that had nothing to do with the shuttle malfunction. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated as they locked on hers.”In case there’s another problem.”

Enyd froze, every nerve ending on fire. Her heart thudded so hard she was sure he could feel it where her chest pressed against his. His breath mingled with hers, his hands still gentle but firm at her waist, thumbs tracing small circles that sent shivers of sensation racing through her.

"If this shuttle malfunctions again," she murmured, her voice breathy and unsteady, "I'm going to assume it's the universe conspiring."

"I'd believe that," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that made her toes curl, "if I wasn't the one who ran pre-flight diagnostics. And triple-checked the maintenance logs."

She blinked, sudden understanding dawning. "Are you saying you let the shuttle break down?"

"I'm saying," he replied with a slow, wicked grin that made her stomach flip, "that I may have trusted the system to work just well enough to keep us almost out of trouble."

The power hiccupped again. Another jolt. The lights dimmed, this time replaced by a soft, emergency amber glow that cloaked the cabin in a warm, intimate hue that made everything feel like a fever dream of desire.

"Oh come on," Enyd whispered, glancing around at the failing systems before meeting his gaze again, drowning in the heat she found there. "Even the lighting's trying to seduce us now?"

Edmund chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into hers. "The universe is unsubtle."

Still half in his lap, still pressed against him in ways that made coherent thought impossible, Enyd let herself breathe, really breathe, watching him—watching the way his jaw flexed when he smiled, drinking in the faint scent of ozone and heat still clinging to his skin. Her hands were still on his chest, and his fingers continued their maddening circles against her lower back—touches so small and seemingly innocent they felt dangerous, each one sending sparks racing along her spine.

"You know," she said slowly, her voice thick with desire, "you are disturbingly calm for a man repeatedly sabotaged by Starfleet's least reliable transport class."

His smile was pure sin. "I've been in worse situations."

"Oh?"

"None of them were half as interesting." His hands tightened fractionally on her waist. "Or half as tempting."

That did it. The tension, the sparks, the near-misses—everything pulled tight between them like a taut line waiting for a single breath to snap it. And then—

BZZT.

A panel above them crackled, showering sparks onto the floor. Enyd instinctively flinched, pressing against him again, every curve of her body aligning perfectly with his. Their foreheads touched, their lips a whisper apart.

Edmund's voice was low, barely audible over the blood rushing in her ears. "We should probably fix that."

"We probably should," she echoed, but neither of them moved.

Another pause. The space between them so charged it felt alive, electric. With visible effort, they parted. Just slightly.

Enyd stood first, her legs unsteady, straightening her uniform with trembling hands. "Let's see if we can stabilize this thing before we end up docking inside the diplomatic station via the roof."

Edmund rose beside her, his movements fluid despite the obvious tension coiled in his body. "Agreed. Though if we crash again, I call dibs on you landing in my lap."

She shot him a sideways glance, her pulse still racing. "You're assuming I wouldn't aim for it next time."

His answering grin was slow, warm, and full of wicked promise.

As they moved to repair the next fault—this time a secondary power relay behind a narrow maintenance shaft—the cabin, the emergency lighting, the lingering heat from the environmental failure, all worked together to create an intimacy impossible to ignore.
And even as they passed tools and shared smoldering looks and leaned far too close in a space far too small, it was clear: the shuttle wasn't the only thing running hot.

[Shuttle Delvok -- Drift Orbit, Rho Aurigae V]

1.7 hours post-systems failure

The console blinked slowly, finally reestablishing a static-laced connection.

"Shuttle Delvok to Rho Aurigae Diplomatic Control. Come in."

A moment's pause. Then a voice, crisp and crackling: "Acknowledged, Delvok. You're on visual. We've tracked your orbit, but the tractor array is undergoing recalibration. Estimated retrieval window: three hours, give or take."

Edmund leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath as he muted the channel, the sound carrying a hint of satisfaction that made Enyd's pulse skip. "Three hours. Guess we're not docking anytime soon."

Enyd sighed, trying to ignore how the prospect of more time alone with him made her body hum with anticipation. "Should've brought a novel. Or a holographic harp."

Edmund turned toward her with that crooked smile that never failed to make her knees weak. "We do have food stores."

"And a shuttle too warm to be comfortable, too small to pace, and with the perfect mood lighting," she teased, her voice carrying more heat than the words warranted.

He tapped a finger to his chin in mock contemplation, the gesture drawing her attention to the strong line of his jaw. "Sounds like date night on Vulcan."

She laughed, pushing herself up from the co-pilot seat, hyperaware of how his eyes followed the movement of her body. "Let's at least pretend we're civilized while we slowly bake. I'll check the food stores."

Moments later, they were seated cross-legged on the shuttle's floor, close enough that their knees almost touched. The emergency lighting still cast that warm amber glow across the metal panels, turning everything golden and intimate. Between them, a spread of rationed luxuries: smoked nutri-cheese, preserved tartfruit, a loaf of synth-wheat bread, and—Edmund's prized discovery—a small bottle of replicated Orion plum wine that caught the light like liquid fire.

"Well," Enyd said, raising her cup, "to heatstroke and unexpected company."

Edmund clinked his own cup against hers, the sound crystalline in the intimate space. "May the former be merciful and the latter persistent."

They ate slowly, trading stories, but the undercurrent of desire never faded. Every shared laugh, every accidental brush of fingers as they reached for food, every time their eyes met and held a beat too long—it all added to the mounting tension that seemed to thicken the very air around them.

Edmund shared a tale of a misadventure in the training simulators that involved a warp core overload and a mistakenly replicated velociraptor, his voice rich and animated. Enyd found herself watching his mouth as he spoke, the way his lips curved around words, imagining what they might feel like against hers.

Enyd countered with a diplomatic negotiation gone awry when she accidentally complimented a Miradorn chieftain's "mating horns," her own storytelling becoming more animated under his appreciative gaze, feeling beautiful and desired in a way that had nothing to do with the wine. It was synthol after all.

"So," Edmund said after a moment, finishing the last of the tartfruit with deliberate slowness that somehow seemed sensual, "since we're stuck here, want to play something?"

Enyd arched a brow, her pulse quickening at the dark promise in his tone. "Define 'something.'"

He grinned, predatory and playful. "Nothing scandalous. Just... something I played with my squad once. It's called Push the Line."

"Oh, that sounds promising." Her voice was breathier than she intended.

He chuckled, the sound sending heat spiraling through her. "It's a 'get-to-know-you' game. You ask a question—anything. The other person has to answer honestly. But if they don't want to answer, they can 'push the line'—and ask a question in return that's even more personal. The further the line is pushed, the riskier the questions get."

Enyd's eyes sparkled with intrigue—and danger.. "I'm in. But if you ask me how many people I've kissed, I'm pushing hard."

"Duly noted." His smile was pure temptation.

They leaned back against the shuttle wall, knees brushing.

Edmund started, his voice low and intimate in the golden light. "Alright. First question: What's one thing about you most people get completely wrong?"

Enyd smirked. "That I'm reckless. I'm actually extremely calculated—I just hide it under an unfortunate layer of clumsiness and impulse." She pointed her cup at him. "Your turn. Most irrational fear?"

"Quantum entanglement spiders."

"That's... not real."

"You didn't say it had to be real. Just irrational."

She snorted, clearly delighted, feeling warm and loose and dangerous. "Okay. Your most scandalous Academy rumor?"
Edmund took a beat, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "There was a brief but persistent theory that I had a secret lover in the Vulcan science division."

Her jaw dropped. "Was it true?"

"Push the line," he said with a smirk that promised trouble.

Enyd narrowed her eyes, feeling the heat and his proximity making her bold. "Alright, fine. When's the last time you really wanted to kiss someone?"

Edmund didn't speak for a moment. His eyes met hers, steady, burning. He didn't smile this time.

"About an hour ago," he said quietly, his voice rough with honesty.

Enyd's pulse stuttered. "During the panel fix?"

He nodded, gaze unwavering, hungry. "And... possibly again right now."

A silence wrapped around them—thicker than before, charged with possibilities. Her pulse danced somewhere between her ears and her fingertips, and she felt herself leaning forward without conscious thought.

She licked her lips slowly, watching how his eyes tracked the movement, her voice softer now, intimate. "Well, then I suppose it's my turn."

Edmund tilted his head, his whole body focused on her with predatory intensity. "Ask anything."

She breathed in, slow and careful, tasting desire on her tongue. "If we weren't stuck on this shuttle, and there weren't diplomatic missions and expectations and protocols hanging over our heads... would you kiss me?"

He didn't hesitate.

"Yes." The word was rough, certain, full of barely leashed want.

Another beat of silence. The kind that stretches forever and feels like falling.

Their faces moved—slowly, magnetically—closer. Her breath hitched as his hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing across her cheekbone with reverent tenderness. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin, could smell his scent, masculine and intoxicating.

Just before their lips touched, the console blared to life with a BEEP BEEP BEEP.

"Delvok, this is Control. We're prepping a tow. Hold your orbit and brace for clamp."

They froze, foreheads nearly touching, both caught breathless in the almost, in the sweet agony of interrupted desire.

Enyd exhaled a shaky laugh, her hand somehow having found its way to his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath her palm. "The universe has no chill."

Edmund leaned back with a rueful smile, but his hand lingered on her face, thumb still tracing maddening circles on her skin. "It's fine. I'm patient. I fly in warp-time."

She gave him a look, playful but charged with promise. "Well then, pilot... you might just have to circle the orbit a little longer."

The shuttle thrummed as the tractor beam locked on. The steady pull toward the diplomatic station jolted Enyd and Edmund slightly in their seats. Enyd fiddled with the seam of her sleeve, her mind anything but calm. The moment had been so close—so intimate—it left her buzzing, skin still tingling where Edmund's thumb had caressed her cheek, her lips aching for a touch that hadn't come.
She chanced a glance toward him.

Edmund sat with his usual composure, one hand resting casually on the edge of the seat, but his eyes met hers the moment she looked. And in them—beneath the confident calm—was heat. Raw, unspoken, and impossible to miss. His gaze lingered on her mouth before meeting her eyes again, the look so intense it made her breath catch. The silence was no longer comfortable. It was loaded with hunger.

"Looks like the diplomatic corps won't have to send out a recovery team for their flustered liaison," he said, his voice lower than before, rougher, edged with something that made her stomach flutter with want.

Enyd offered a wry smile, trying to ignore how his voice seemed to caress every nerve ending. "Speak for yourself. I might still need a counselor after this shuttle ride."

The comm crackled.

"Delvok, prepare for docking. Welcome to Rho Aurigae V."

The shuttle dipped as the docking clamps began to engage. Edmund stood first, fluid and graceful, offering her a hand. She took it—slowly—and the moment her fingers wrapped around his, it was there again: the electricity. The magnetic pull. The thing they hadn't acted on but couldn't ignore. His thumb stroked across her knuckles in a touch that seemed innocent but felt sinful.

"You know," he said, voice quiet now, intimate, "if we had five more minutes..."

She looked up at him, heart thudding, drowning in the dark promise of his eyes.

"I'd have kissed you," he finished, his voice rough with want. "Properly. Thoroughly. Until you forgot your own name."

Her throat tightened, heat pooling low in her belly at the images his words conjured.

And for a moment, she nearly said do it anyway. But she didn't.

Instead, she let out a slow breath and gave him a smile that was full of all the things she wouldn't say aloud—yet. "Then I guess it's good we didn't have five more minutes."

Edmund chuckled softly, the sound dark and promising, finally releasing her hand but not her gaze. "Your definition of good needs serious work."

Before she could reply, the outer hatch unlocked with a sharp hiss, and the pressurized docking corridor extended toward them.
Voices outside. Protocols reasserting themselves. Reality intruding. Duty returned—reluctantly.

Enyd smoothed her hair and squared her shoulders, trying to ignore how her body still hummed with unfulfilled want. Edmund did the same, slipping back into his charmingly composed persona, every inch the competent pilot—though she could see the fire still burning in his eyes.

At the hatch, just before it opened, she turned to him one last time.

"Thank you for the wine. And the company. And... not kissing me." The last words carried a hint of regret that made his eyes darken further.

"For now," he said simply, the promise in those two words making her knees weak.

The door slid open. Light from the station spilled into the shuttle, harsh after the intimate amber glow, and with it came the reality of their respective roles. Enyd stepped out first, her diplomatic mask slipping into place even as her body still thrummed with awareness of the man behind her. Edmund followed—his gait easy, his face unreadable to anyone who didn't know to look for the tension in his shoulders, the slight tightness around his eyes. But just before they parted ways in the corridor, he leaned in near her ear, so close his breath stirred the edge of her hair and sent shivers racing down her spine.

"You're not getting out of that kiss, Madsen. Just... delayed flight plan." His voice was low, dark with promise.

She turned slightly, just enough for him to see the flicker of hunger in her eyes, the way her lips parted at his proximity. "I look forward to the turbulence."

Then she walked away—head held high, pulse racing, every step an exercise in restraint.

And Edmund watched her go, that same smile lingering on his lips, hands clenched at his sides to keep from reaching for her. They were officers. Professionals. Their paths might not cross again for days. But when they did? That line they kept pushing would snap. And they both knew it.