Star Trek: Theurgy

Day 01 [2330 hrs.] Beauty and the Beast

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | Carrigan Trent's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: Carrigan Trent
[Show/Hide]She had to get away from it. She had to run away from it. Her quarters were no longer an option. There was a little problem involving a plasma leak and a massive discharge that turned it into something of a incinerator. That's fine. Bunny was still around. His data safely stored in the computer memory banks, so the holographic rabbit followed her wherever she was and wherever there was a holo-emitter. After Dr. Nicander went to attend the medical emergency, Heather McMillan just stood there, dumbfounded, and thunderstruck by what had just happened. What she had just done. Still half-dressed, loosely gripping her uniform and jacket against her chest, she'd walked out of there, ignorant of the queries aimed her way. And when she winced even when a hand was about to touch her, they hesitated. The frailty of her race was known now, and no one questioned her wariness or cautious behaviour. One of the officers coughed and scratched irritably at his cheek as he walked past her.

“Monster...” said McMillan to herself, “I'm a monster...”

She ran a hand through her near-weightless hair, sending strands flying and flailing in the air, and picked up the rabbit hopping alongside her. She desperately stroked the holographic pet's soft fur, and the coney sniffed at her curiously. “I've hurt another living being. What have I done...?”

Her lips trembled, and she felt a sob escaping her lips. There was no where for her to go. No one to talk to. Everyone had one crisis or another to deal with. Carrigan...she could talk to Trent, but he was literally second in command after Captain Ives. He was going to be needed especially after all the madness that happened. More harming of the soul. But McMillan was a Radiant. The Radiant was never to harm those they sought to serve and protect. Humans, Andorians, Vulcans, they were all gods in the eyes of the Radiant. They were strong, and mighty, in comparison. But the Radiant were the protectors against the unseen. Of course, they had no idea what they protected anyone against, and certainly not through force of arms. That would contradict the way of peace they all lived and held more precious than their own lives.

She hid away wherever she could for the rest of the day, not wanting to speak to anybody save one, and from what she could estimate of his work schedule, there was really only one part in time that she could see him free enough to speak with her. So there she was, halfway to midnight, that she was standing, barefooted at his door, and she chimed, wanting to be let in quickly before anyone saw her. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and her light was completely absent. She couldn't bring herself to glow, feeling guilt over the pleasurable sensations shining gave her. She shouldn't be feeling any sort of pleasure or happiness for the great sin she committed, but she needed to understand how Trent and all other folks coped with this horrible feeling. The black hole that sucked everything in her gut. That tore her up inside out, and then when she thought there was nothing else to tear up, it would find some more and she was spiralling. She needed Trent's help immediately.

“C-Carrigan,” McMillan's voice choked, and it was barely audible, “please...open th-the door.”

Trent lived by the truism that a senior officer's work on a starship was never really done.  There was always more to do, enough to fill all the hours in a day and then some.  But he also knew that to each day sufficed its toils, and he needed to put his head down at some point.  Granted, he had not crawled directly into bed when he had returned to his quarters after the day's work. 

First he had poured himself a drink, which had been followed by a shower and a shave, and he was on his couch, feet on the coffee table.  He had not bothered to dress afterwards, simply throwing on a housecoat, and his towel was still draped over the back of his neck while he considered what was before him.  Dewitt had indeed spoken with Chief Petty Officer Hirrentz and what Trent had suspected had come to pass.  Instead of acting like a section officer as he was supposed to, Carson had retreated to his quarters and locked himself away, ostensibly to sleep instead of following the orders he had been given.  He had left all of the post-engagement inspections and maintenance of the torpedo systems to Hirrentz, as well as the report writing, and disappeared.  As though such matters were beneath him. 

Now, Hirrentz' report was well-done.  In fact, now that he had compared it with the one from the engagement at Black Opal, the wording and structure were identical, the only difference being the signature at the bottom.  But what was worse was that such has been happening for a long time, since the shakedown cruise, no less...  And that had prompted the XO to take action, and to compose a message for Captain Ives.  "Thea, begin recording a message for the Captain.  Flag as time-sensitive but do not release it until 0700."  Granted, it was somewhat odd to do so, but he did expect the Captain needed her sleep as much as he did himself, and that matter really could wait until morning, but had to be handled before the Captain would render a final verdict as to whether Tactical was going to Lieutenant Commander Marquez in the end.  "Captain, I've come across information that Lieutenant Carson has been intolerably lax in the performance of his duties as Torpedo Section Officer, delegating entirely too much of his workload onto Chief Hirrentz.  And it's been going on for a while.  For the time being, I have suspended Carson from duty and restricted him to quarters save for meals and a chance to go to the gym and he no longer has access to anything that is remotely connected to the Tactical department.  My recommendation is that Chief Hirrentz be, as per our conversation before the Starbase mission, promoted to Warrant Officer and appointed as acting section head while Lieutenant Carson is reassigned to duties better-suited to his temperament..."

But he could not finish his report, for the door chimed.  Instantly he paused the recording, and the voice that came through, he knew it.  But he'd never heard Heather speak in such a beaten, defeated manner.  Normally, he would have simply let someone know they could come in, but something was telling him it would be much better if he would be there in person.  And when the door hissed open, he was not prepared for what was waiting for him.

She was barefoot, as she was wont to do, and she had her shirt and jacket lightly held to her chest.  And the first thought that entered the Commander's mind was that someone had tried to force themselves on her.  But no, she had no bruises or, as was more likely, broken bones.  But she had been crying and the light that had become synonymous with her presence was not shining.  It was, truly, almost as though life and light were being drained into her given her current state.  "Heather?  Of course, do come in, please!" 

And, as gently as he knew he had to touch her, he draped his good arm about her shoulders and tenderly guided him into his quarters.  As the door hissed shut, he looked towards her once more.  "What's wrong?"

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | Carrigan Trent's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: Carrigan Trent
[Show/Hide]Maybe it was just as well that she had avoided being seen, going so far as to bend light around herself, though Thea probably could still detect her via heat signature of numerous other means. Nevertheless, she had been in such a state, she hadn't even bothered to dress properly, but she only realised when she saw the look on Trent's face. But her mind rationalised that he had already seen a fair amount of her, and she had no real reason to be shy about it anymore, unless he felt otherwise.

She felt so much relief to be let in, and she instinctively adjusted her shoulders to compensate for the weight of the man's arm around her. She tried to lean against him momentarily, then she just dropped her bundle of clothing. Left only in her bra and her pants, she turned to face him, lips trembling, “Carrigan...I've done something so terrible...”

She gently laid her palms against his chest and looked away, to one side, “I've hurt gods...I hurt Ac-Acreth...I think her name was...and-and Dr. Nicander. My light...I...I blinded her...I...I felt...felt good about it!...oh bloody Nora...I'm a monster!”

She started sobbing uncontrollably, raising her palms to bury her face in them.

Carrigan Trent was a man who tended to see things coming.  But there were times when he was completely blindsided.  Such as this very night with Heather's reactions.  No sooner had the door closed and he's spoken to her, the shy little Radiant dropped the bundle that had been her shirt and jacket onto the deck and she spoke.  She had done something terrible?  No, not Heather MacMillan.  She was the gentlest sentient creature he'd ever come across, and so far as he could tell her idea of doing something horrible was along the lines of disturbing a leaf in the arboretum. 

And when she pressed her hands to his chest through his bathrobe, he placed his own hands upon her waist, letting her speak. 

She had hurt someone?  And then, he heard it all.  Acreth.  He should have known that had something to do with this.  He had seen the abstract of the encounter, where she and Nicander attempted to stop her from entering a temporal rift.  And how the light coming from the young scientist had changed in ways Thea could not readily make sense out of and the power output had risen astronomically.  High enough that if the waveforms had been different, she could have easily slagged through a number of decks and bulkheads.  And she had felt joy at that.

Which was definitely out of character for a devoted pacifist such as her. 

Trent was one of these men who knew violence was necessary, and believed that Orwell was right with his statement as to how those who abjure violence only did so because there are others who would do violence on their behalf.  But Heather?  She was nothing like him.

But calling herself a monster?  That decidedly pulled at his heartstrings and the hands upon her waist went to her back and he stepped closer to her, close enough so she would be fully pressed against his chest, instead of pulling her to him.  And he laid his lips upon her forehead in a tender kiss.  "You're no monster, Heather.  You just did what needed to be done at the time, in the only way you knew how."

He knew that wouldn't be enough, and he had to explain it.  "You didn't see what Acreth did before.  You didn't speak with her.  If there was a monster in that room, it was her and that thing, our enemy, inside her." 

"And it's normal to take some satisfaction from preventing danger from reaching our friends, our families.  And that is what you did.  You stopped her from hurting anyone, yourself included.  It's not monstrous, it's just... like the satisfaction of a job well done.  And you did well.  You did really well."

But, what he did not tell her is that if it had been him instead of her, he would have used a phaser, set on wide dispersal and high enough to vaporize Acreth.  Because he would take no chances with that particular threat himself.

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | Carrigan Trent's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: Carrigan Trent
[Show/Hide]She felt glad when he shifted his hands from her waist to hug her. Her long hair, untied, trailed behind after her when she yielded to his touch easily. Moving wherever his hands seemed to guide her to be. Her face was still hidden by her palms, but her sobbing subsided slightly, as she struggled to contain it so she could hear what he had to say. The kiss to the forehead was very welcome, and she raised two red-rimmed eyes to look up at him from that awkward angle, though it was just as well he was so much taller, or she would have had to pull back just to look at him.

But what he had to say bothered her. He wasn't disapproving, but justifying her actions! Of course he would! He's a human! A god. It's within his rights to do what he pleases. But the Radiant...it was a sin. 'Do no violence, for even violence in a self-defence, is a mark upon your own soul.' So the old saying goes. The light will fade. And the soul will darken. A fate no Radiant ever wanted to face. And then there was the fact that Acreth was technically host to a malevolent alien parasite that was in control. She slowly pulled back, her palms now against his chest once more, and she leaned her neck back so she could look at him directly while he explained the woman's atrocities against the crew. Plus whatever Dr. Nicander had shielded her eyes from in the corridors.

She shook her head slowly, but her hair whipped around like weightless strands, flying left and right, “H-how...?” said McMillan. “You've done this...you all have...”

She looked away, towards a screen, and then back, her hair whipping in front of her face, “How do you...how do you cope?”

She meant the fighting, the killing, the going from one to another. Lowering her gaze to his chest, she pondered for a while, and then said, “I didn't think about anything. When Dr. Nicander...he told me to blind her, and I barely hesitated. All my life, I never would dare do anything that would in any way be considered harmful to a person. But when I saw Acreth...there was...I wanted to shine my light. I wanted to shine with the very core of my soul, and I liked it. I heard Nicander tell me to stop, but I didn't want to. I needed to keep shining. Nothing else mattered.”

She gazed up at him again, “I could have stopped her without my light. I could have jumped in the way of her phaser, bought Dr. Nicander time to do something else. It's what Radiant do. We protect, we give our lives willingly. I...I...but I...wanted to see you again. I wanted to live, at the cost of another person. Now only God knows where she is...Carrigan...what was the thing that was in her? Did it...? Did it kill the real Acreth? Or did I not only harm one, but two living beings?”

She wanted to hope that maybe there was some way to accept Carrigan's justification, and ease the guilt on her soul, or forever lose her light. Her skin began to look pale, or sickly. Even when she was suppressing her light before, she had never so fully stifled or denied herself even a smattering of light, but now she was, and she was starting to feel ill, but she didn't care. She didn't deserve the blessing of the light until she knew where she stood in guilt, or what penance must be meted out. She had not allowed even a sliver to eke out from her body for close to half a day now, and soon she would be weaker. But it wasn't only the denial of light that was affecting her. She abruptly peeled her head to one side and sneezed, her vision swimming from the light force of such a reaction.

She turned to look back at Carrigan, blinking in surprise.

How did one cope with such things?  There were many answers to that.  But before he would answer her question, Carrigan Trent silently listened to the young scientist before him.  He could understand the conflict within her.  He'd seen it before.  In others a number of times, and in himself when he had lost the Harrier in battle along with more than half of his crew.  It took a certain kind of people to be able to take violence in stride.  But Heather was not that sort. 

And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. 

Tenderly, he took a hand off her back and cupped her cheek.  "You did what you had to, Heather.  Like I said, you don't know what Acreth and that thing inside her are capable of.  Believe me, if she'd had a chance she would have torn you and Doctor Nicander apart limb from limb with her bare hands.  A phaser blast set to maximum stun wouldn't even have slowed her down.  What you did saved lives.  A lot of lives."

Tenderly, he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb, only to realize that it was not his hand of flesh and blood that was cradling her cheek, but that of metal and polymers.  "And you sacrificed.  You had to go against your people's core beliefs, your core beliefs to protect us.  That is worth as much as giving your life.  And there is nothing wrong with wanting to live.  We all do.  And... I'm glad you lived.  More than you can imagine." 

Her sickly pallor was bothering him.  That complete lack of luminescence, it was doing more than diminishing her.  She had told him it was her soul that was powering her light; and something he had learned was that where the mind went, the body followed...  She needed to let herself glow.  But that guilt that was visibly crippling her, that needed to be fully assuaged. 

"You and I, we're different.  I was trained as a tactical officer, I commanded a ship in battle.  You're a scientist, who was always taught to be a pacifist.  But we both protect this ship, this crew, the people we care about as best we know how.  Even... even if it costs us."

Slowly, he leaned towards her and pressed his lips onto hers for a brief, gentle kiss.  "You have nothing to feel sorry for, Heather MacMillan.  You did what needed doing, and you did it well.  You were faced with a grave threat, and the terror that came with it.  You could have run.  You could have hid.  But no, instead you did what you said your duty is, and you protected all of us."

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | Carrigan Trent's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: Carrigan Trent
[Show/Hide]When he cupped her cheek, she leaned her face willingly against his hand, not even thinking about it. She trusted him to control his strength. “She's that strong?” asked McMillan, her voice light and trembling. She still felt utterly rotten inside, but something...a memory of when she was there with Dr. Nicander and Acreth, that feeling of well being, of satisfaction or...well, maybe excitement and even desire would be the more appropriate word. That memory sort of helped her hear what Trent was saying, and she slowly began to calm. But he had more to say.

“I guess I did...” said McMillan. It was a sacrifice. How could she face her parents? She would tell them the truth. About what she had done. Maybe she was just looking for excuses, but again, that feeling of satisfaction. It was so confusing. There was a time in her past, “I was in such a hurry once, when I was young...” she began talking aloud, “...it was snowing...I love snow, even if I freeze nearly half to death. I wanted to get home, play in the snow with my mother and father...I was leaping from tree-to-tree, as a shortcut, and I made sure no one was watching. I was getting heavier...for a Radiant, I mean, and it was enough, I snapped a branch, and there was this bird's nest...”

It was easy to guess what had happened. She couldn't save them, she explained, and she cried for days over what she had done. She fell silent again, but she considered how she felt then, when she'd hurt those birds, be it indirectly or not. But she didn't feel as much guilt over what she did to Acreth. She was feeling grimly pleased, but her upbringing told her what she did was wrong at the same time. Sighing, McMillan tried to force herself to accept what Trent said, that it was a sacrifice, and plus, when he expressed gladness at her survival, it made her feel just that much better.

“Even if it costs us,” said McMillan, parroting Trent, and barely stifled a surprised gasp when he kissed her. He was being gentle as far as she could tell, but it still took her by surprise. Once the surprise died down, and she knew what was happening, she leaned into it, and kissed back. Her lips were softer than ever, and a slight pull could cut them or bruise it, but the Radiant herself was being a little...reckless. But her light slowly began to appear. Motes blinked in and out of existence around her hair, the individual strands themselves took a faint aura of colours, giving it a vibrant feature, and her skin appeared to be glowing in its own colour. When he pulled back and spoke, she gifted him a weak smile, and she raised her hands to caress his cheeks, “I don't know what I would do without you, Carrigan.”

She abruptly leaned against him, wrapping her arms around him as strongly as she could manage, with was as strong as a puppy compared to him, hugging him, and transferring that feeling of desperate dependence, or surrender. But she wanted to be held right then, and she hoped he would. She didn't even realize or consider yet that she was standing there in only her bra and pants and little else, and what that might be doing to him at this stage, considering where they last left off when they both got a little excited...or very...

Carrigan was not certain how his kiss was going to be received.  What he had meant was for it to be a show of his affection for her, and how it had not changed even now that she'd had to do something she considered morally repugnant.  But then again, he had been trained as a Tactical Officer, and sitting at the controls of weapons that could sterilize a planet tended to make one understand that violence is sometimes necessary. 

But her surprise was something he had felt, even given the briefness of his initial contact, but she was quick to respond in kind with the sort of abandon he had hardly expected from the generally timid young scientist.  But as she spoke herself, her unnatural dullness was gone, instead replaced by something of the glow he had come to know and love about her.  And even though it was not quite as bright as he recalled, it was enough to chase away the gloom that had followed her unlit presence. 

And then, she fairly threw herself at him, her arms wrapping themselves around him.  It was not hard to realize that she was seeing him very much as a rock she could seek shelter with.  And very much as she came to hold him, he too wrapped his arms about her, the wide sleeves of his bathrobe riding up so his bare forearms came to rest across her smooth back. 

But there was something else he had just noticed.  He could feel her warmth, her softness against him.  Not just through the fabric of the one garment he was wearing, but directly against his skin.  For it would seem that her touching his chest and then coming to press herself against him had loosened the belt of his bathrobe, and he happened to wear absolutely... nothing beneath it.

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | Carrigan Trent's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: Carrigan Trent
[Show/Hide]She smiled when she felt his arms around her, having gotten what she wanted. She basked in that, and repaid it with her glow getting stronger. And then her eyes widened when she realized what she had done. Reluctantly pulling back, she looked up at him, to keep her eyes focused on his rather than what she felt, and now, “Oh...uhm...I-I-I...uhm...”

She looked around frantically, her mind panicking. Not that she didn't want to look. She did, and that was part of the problem now. She was also finally becoming aware of how little she had on, and she wasn't a complete idiot. But at the same time, did she want to prevent it? They were pretty close to something serious not too long ago, when McMillan stalled it, in favour of another time. Granted, they were in her work place, not the smartest place for something like that. Besides, she needed a soft surface, or she wouldn't survive the experience. Her gaze paused on a drink on his table, then she stared off into space. This was no time for it, and she was just looking for something else to think about, and she really ought not to.

It was enough that he got her to come to terms, but this was just like before, her mind jumped from one end of a decision to the other. Daintily, she picked at the robes and folded them over each other, covering the man again, so that she could concentrate better. “I...came here...that is...I mean,” said McMillan, “my quarters had been quite decimated recently...after the last battle. And I just wanted you to know that.”

She bent down to pick up her shirt and jacket, wiping away the tears that had soaked her face, and gave him a lopsided smile. “This was a little more awkward than I anticipated it being...”

Heather was a warm, slight form pressing against Carrigan's chest, and he certainly enjoyed the feeling her her nearly bare chest against his.  And she too enjoyed being held, if her ever-increasing glow was any indication.  And then she pulled back, some embarrassed noises coming out of her mouth.  Though, truth be told, he hadn't quite noticed that his robe had come undone until she had brought attention to it. 

Particularly by gently closing the robe and retying the belt.  And she explained why she was there, because her quarters had been incinerated. 

As she gathered up her clothes, he stepped up to her and he placed his arms on her forearms, and gently pushed down as to fully expose her bra once more.  "You're definitely welcome here, and I'm certainly sorry you're finding this awkward."  If he was any judge, that bra was there for modesty more than it was for support.   "So, what would make you more comfortable?  Tea?  A drink?  Making yourself... more comfortable?"

And as he spoke, he ran a finger along the soft fabric of the bra.  For he certainly remembered just where they had been but a few days earlier.

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | Carrigan Trent's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: Carrigan Trent
[Show/Hide]She sensed more than saw the movements of Trent as she gathered her clothing, and despite a growing trust for the man's capacity for gentleness, she still barely refrained from flinching defensively when his hands rested on her forearms. She chalked it up to not being sure what he was going for, and how even a gentle bump could be at the very least, very painful for her, and McMillan was no fan of pain. Once she figured out what he was doing, her aura of light turned into a pink hue, indicating a flush, which she was certainly feeling. Part of her wanted to ask aloud for clarity if he really liked what he saw or he was just being nice to the silly little Radiant.

Letting her hands drop, though she held on to her shirt in one hand, and the jacket in another, she glanced up at Trent, listening to what he had to say, and then she replied, "Mortified actually might be better...I just said that out loud, didn't I?"

Shoot me now, McMillan thought as she glued that toothy smile to her face, though her flushed cheeks and panicked look in her eyes said everything. She considered kissing him just to try and rectify that, but somehow that didn't seem to fit as the best idea at the moment. "By that, I mean I'm mortified to have to ask...uhm...I mean, bother you with something like this...gu-uh! I mean, I-I-I thought..."

This wasn't helping. She didn't know what she was thinking at this point. "After what happened with Acreth, I needed to see you." She finally settled on that fact, "My room getting incinerated just gave me more incentive (not that I really needed one), because right now, I literally have only the clothes on my ba...in my hands."

She barely resisted a slight shiver as he traced along her bra, and she idly clasped a frail hand around his that was tracing on textile and flesh, "I am comfortable r-right here, right now, with you...am I talking too much?" Her eyes darted left and right uncertainly after that question.

Carrigan had known from the first encounter that Heather McMillan was as mother-mouthed as they came.  And that she was hardly the most apt in any kind of social situation.  But showing up half-naked in his quarters and the conversation they had been having?  That was decidedly bound to make things even worse for her.  As she had just examplified.  And there was only one thing to do about it.

Tenderly, he brought his free hand, the one that was not flesh and bone, and gently pressed a finger against her lips.  "Heather, it's all right," he said with a smile, a smile that was backed by a good-natured laugh. 

"You're welcome here.  But for now, would you care to sit down?  Maybe... make yourself more comfortable?"

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | Carrigan Trent's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]She barely suppressed a yip when the cold metallic hand touched a finger against her lips, but it did help her shut up and concentrate on what Trent had to say. She blushed again when he laughed. She wasn't sure if it was because of her being foolish or because he found her funny. The latter probably wouldn't be too bad. But if it was the former, well, having Captain Vasser smacking her head off might be more pleasant. Her mind idly wandered to the frailty of her people compared to virtually every other race in existence, and not for the first time, she wondered why they were made so. But unless the Elders and Speakers were holding secrets from the others on Earth, there were a great many things lost to the Radiant of Earth.

“Thank you...yeah, yeah, that's probably for the best.” McMillan touched her forehead, idly wiping a small bead of sweat that had formed despite the relative cool of the room. She glanced at the clothing still in her hands, and she briefly considered asking whether he would like her to dress, or if he preferred her like this? Considering that he had literally nothing on underneath that bathrobe, she figured leaving the shirt and jacket off was relatively fine and kept them even, more or less. She padded over to the nearby table and set her clothes on the backrest of the nearest chair, with her settling into it a moment later, staring at the ground. “Can...can I stay here with you...just the night?”

Her tone was even more timid than before. She knew she was fond of him, and he of her, but he was a man of such power and position, perhaps even asking him this would be offensive. It frightened her and she imagined all sorts of negative responses he could make. She didn't like the idea of being along tonight. Sure, she could bunk in the workplace if it came to it. But she would really much rather be in Trent's company. “I'm sure the room can be salvaged...tomorrow, or I get reassigned a different quarter while repairs take place. But I would...uhm...I would...I mean, I'd love to be in your company. I-I don't think I want to be alone tonight...not after everything that's happened.”

Attn: @Triage

Carrigan watched as Heather seated herself at his dining table.  That, frankly, was not quite what he had expected.  But then again, placing her shirt and jacket on chair backs was something he had seem coming.  She could be quite... random at time, somewhat flighty, and disorganized.  But at other times she was oddly fastidious.  And when she asked if she could spend the night, he smiled softly.  He had rather expected that, seen it coming.  He knew the damage reports, and as such he knew the section she lived in had gone through some serious damage.  And if she had come to him, it was because she knew she'd be safe with him. 

Stepping behind her, he set his hands upon her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze.  "Of course.  I told you, you're always welcome here."  And, leaning forward, he kissed the top of her head.  But his hands had a mind of their own, and with his thumbs he brushed her bra straps off her shoulders, and the tips of his fingers ran over what little pale flesh showed at the tops of her breasts.  "But, don't you think we might be more comfortable on the couch?"

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | Carrigan Trent's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]When he placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed, she smiled and tilted her head up and back so that she might catch a glimpse of him, and to share a look of appreciation and gratitude for the assurance. Then as she lowered her head back down, her eyes widened to the size of class-M planets. Just as well he was behind her, or perhaps he might mistake her shocked expression as a sign she found his actions unwelcome. On the contrary, she was simply shocked, and unable to process what was happening, not to mention what he was asking, or suggesting. Well that wasn't entirely true. She knew enough to be able to hazard a guess as to what was being suggested here. Or, like always, she was reading too much into nothing. Maybe he just wanted to be able to share a seat with her, and the chair she was on was hardly spacius, unless she wanted to sit in his lap. That caused her to briefly imagine if the role was reversed, except she was fairly certain she would lose her legs if he did sit on them.

Fortunately, her body language at least, told Carrigan Trent how much she enjoyed his touch, even his mechanical cold hand. The relative cool metal was comforting, and a relief against the heat building in her skin. She surrendered to his hands, almost melting under the touch, and was soft, not stiffening at all. The shoulder straps were off, hanging off the sides of her arms, and unconsciously, her hands reached up to clasp his wrists gentle as a leaf. “C-couch?” said McMillan, and she glanced at the more comfortable sofa nearby, “Yeah, sor-...I mean, yeah.”

She blushed and released one of his hands so she could rub her neck, upsetting her hair and scattering it about in a wild spray. Her glow began to change, parts of her seemed to have light coming off her like luminous gas, and it sort of made her look like a walking, feminine-shaped nebula. As she rose from the chair, she began to leave tiny clouds of colourful light behind. Placing herself beside Trent, she moved to follow him to the couch, gently caressing his forearm, her other hand holding the crook of his elbow, she smiled up at him and said, “Thank you.”

An abrupt and intense tickle in her nose prompted her to quickly turn her head and her sneeze was like a piano key that got struck very violently by an angry Gorn. “Excuse me...”

The tip of her nose glowed a shiny apple red when she turned back to look at Trent in confusion.

On the trip to the couch, Heather seemed to be much recovered, much more of the young woman the Executive Officer had come to know so far than the much more subdued woman who'd come to his quarters in tears.  The light coming from her danced across the well-appointed quarters, and her hair, though it actually floated just like it had when she'd just come through his door it no longer looked like a dark halo about her head but as a corona of light.  And that sight, it nearly made his breath catch in his throat. 

But shortly after they had sat down, a sound he'd hardly expected erupted, much like a rather petite and high-pitched version of the report of an ancient chemically-powered slug-thrower.  However, the bright red glow of her nose brought a smile, and even a chuckle to Carrigan's thin lips.  To see it like so had unwillingly brought back memories of a child's holiday song he had learned at his mother's knee so long ago.  But it also made him realize that, even this close to him, Heather was shivering, and she looked rather flushed.  And given her sneeze, it was rather obvious to him: having wandered the ship half-naked for half the day, she had caught herself a chill. 

Without thinking, Trent reached for the throw blanket on the back of the couch, and he wrapped it about both he and her, pulling her close to benefit even more so from his body heat as he did so.  The movement, though, led both his hands to brush over her breasts, both the fabric of her bra and the skin that was left exposed.  But his fingertips, they stopped at the band and circled to the back once more to come to rest near the hooks.  "May I?"

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | Carrigan Trent's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]“Am I too bright?” the words tumbled out of McMillan's mouth before she thought as Trent pulled a blanket around her and him, “Oh.”

Her long hair danced wildly from all the movements, the waves of colour and light changing with no discernible pattern, with gaseous nebula forming a halo around her. She enjoyed the closeness with Trent, and wanted to hug him when she felt his hands brush over her breasts, and considered whether she was too close for his comfort, and just before she could ask him if he wanted to move or adjust himself, he asked her for permission??? She tilted her chin up to look at him, with an expression that was a cross between a smile and the Romulan Inquisition.

Her mind was flashing back to a few things pertaining to the question or complete lack thereof: Hamburgers with Andorian wheak sauce were absolutely heavenly; they were in the Azure Nebula, it's very pretty; he wanted to take her bra off; he felt very firm, and warm, she liked his warmth.

After a moment of eternity, and that weird look locked on her face, she finally said, “Yes.”

She was suddenly glad for their proximity and the blanket, because she felt colder all of a sudden, and very, very nervous. Hopefully he mistook her trembling for a chill, which was worrisome, but not as worrisome as what was about to happen. What if he thought she was too small? Or he found her insufficient? She couldn't quite keep her eyes from showing her concern, or the way she bit her lower lip. Her frail hands gingerly gripped his waist as she waited. This, she supposed, would be their next step. It was thrilling, and absolutely terrifying.

[ Carrigan Trent | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage

The wait between his question and Heather's answer lasted but heartbeats, but to Carrigan Trent it felt like it could have gone on for hours, days, eons.  But then, she said yes.

With deliberate slowness, slow enough Heather could stop him with a word should she decide so, the fingers of his good hand worked the hooks of her bra, freeing them one by one.  Oh, there were only three of them, but each was undone with careful deliberation, his fingers moving precisely and with a lack of haste that might even be perceived as calculated.  And then, the last hook was undone and he let go, and allowed gravity to do the rest. 

Already he had brushed the straps off her shoulders, and so he let the garment fall, the straps hooking into her elbows as her hands were about his waist.  At first, he did very little, simply splayed his hand of flesh and blood across her now completely bare back and he leaned forward, his lips touching hers ever so briefly in a tender kiss, and when he broke off he remained close nonetheless and that same hand started to circle about, across her side and over her ribs, and then his thumb brushed across the soft, warm, firm yet pliable swell of her breast. 

That thumb moved slowly, gradually making its way across the small orb until it moved past her nipple, and then he cupped the entirety of her breast in his palm and gave it a small, delicate squeeze.  Oh, it was small, yet it seemed as though it had been made for his hand all right.  And he leaned forward again for another kiss, that one deeper, longer.

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]He seemed nearly as tentative as she was. He is almost there...she thought as he took deliberate time to unclasp her bra. The suspense was killing her, honestly. Yes, one part of her wanted to take the obvious offer to change her mind, while the oddly scientific and curious part of her wanted him to go on...in the name of science and personal discovery. She wanted to know what happened next, how this worked, and she figured, I'm sure it's quite all right and probably a lot of fun...oh, I should touch his hair.

That's how they did it, right? She slowly moved one hand, then stopped, when she noticed that he had finally done it. The fabric of her bra and most of her clothing had been specially designed, customized by McMillan herself to be two times lighter and softer than standard material. She found most basic human clothing eventually chafed her skin, and she needed to replicate different material and lighter weight. The bra was nearly as fragile as she was. It was off her. It was off her! Her colourful aura swirled around brightly, trailing clouds of light in all directions as she shuffled and moved carefully, allowing the bra to fall right off.

Her body was shivering for a different reason now as he brought her in for a gentle kiss, which she reciprocated happily, and she felt her bare chest lightly pressing against him. When he pulled back a little ways, her head leaned forward a moment, reluctant to part, then she distracted herself by turning her head down to look at what his hands were doing, and she lightly rested her hands in his forearms, allowing him to continue unhindered as he explored her breasts. I wonder what's so fascinating about my breasts to him...they aren't too small, are they? Oh...don't stop...

When his thumb brushed over her nipple, it felt like a buzz and it tickled, but it felt pleasant, in a way, and as shy as she felt, she was curious for more, eager, even. Her reaction was a tiny, abrupt gasp, and her body stiffening a little as the moment passed. Then he squeezed her breast and her eyes widened. Was that enjoyable for him? She hoped he didn't put too much pressure, she wasn't sure she fancied going to the medical bay and explaining the bruises that would come from that. Fortunately, he didn't squeeze harder than she could bare, and again, it felt, nice. Was she made to enjoy that sensation?

She couldn't wonder much about it after that as he brought her in for another kiss, and this time she embraced him lovingly, one hand grasping at the hair on his head gently, while her other hand wrapped easily around his neck to keep her balanced. After a while, the hand holding his hair slid down to play with the back of his ear and around the back of his neck. She wasn't sure what she was doing, only she hoped it was correct, or the right thing to do. Her entire aura shifted into a pink hue.

[ Carrigan Trent | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage

Slender arms went about him, and Trent let himself be pulled in.  Or did he stand strong and Heather pulled herself to him?  Or something in between?  But he did know that between the touching, the kissing, the embracing, the blanket had fallen off of them, to pool about their waists.  However, none of it landed across his lap, and again the housecoat Carrigan wore betrayed him for it parted once more, but there was no debating the reaction Heather's half-naked closeness was eliciting from him, and his member had started to engorge and press against her as her delicate fingers moved about his head and the embrace she had started pressed her breast against his palm. 

But, as pleasant as touching her bared breast was, as enticing as her lips were, he also wanted to see.  Oh, the pink of her aura was hard to miss, but he also wished to see what fabric had hidden from him for so long. 

And so, he slowly broke the kiss, but only to press his lips against the side of her jaw, and he started trailing a line of kisses all the way up to where her jaw met her slender neck, and then down the gracile column to her collarbone.  From her collarbone, he kissed his way to the point of her shoulder, and then he back his head to look at her bare bust.  Indeed, small breasts.  But definitely not out of place on a frame as delicate as hers. 

And then again he leaned forward, using his synthetic hand to hold his weight against the couch, and his lips closed about the rosy nub of her nipple.

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]She felt that blanket sliding off her, but she didn't pay much attention to it other than that her back got cooler except for wherever his arms were, and that just made her lean closer to him, drawing on his warmth and comfort instead. She didn't know it was all so...overwhelming and yet she didn't feel confused. Feeling slightly emboldened, she gently parted his coat further with one hand, and pressed herself forward, sharing the warmth of their bodies and her light. Her eyes shot open and widened when she realized she was not the only one getting...warmed up? Well, she knew his reaction from her studies, but it told her that she was in fact, turning him on too. This fact was pleasing, and most reassuring. I'm not completely bad!

This revelation reflected in her lights turning colourful again, and her face beaming, figuratively and literally with the happiest smile she'd shown since coming in. And this while kissing too, but Trent would have felt her lips curving upwards, probably, and she decided to shut her eyes again, to enjoy the sensations. Cutting off one sense served to increase the other senses, especially tactile sense, which was busy being stimulated across multiple points. She definitely did not want him to stop whatever he was doing anymore. There were no doubts. “Mmm?” said McMillan when he broke contact with her lips and she looked up at him questioningly.

She was just about to ask him what was happening when he continued to trail kisses down her neck and elsewhere, and she just went “Oh...” She let him continue, shivering at the touch of his lips against her bare skin. She even leaned her upper torso back ever so slightly, since he wanted to see her form, and then she resisted the urge to ask him whether she was to his liking. She reasoned with herself that if he didn't he probably wouldn't be doing what he was doing, and why the hell was her hand playing with the back of his hair??? Never mind, why the hell was her other hand going down to his inner thigh? It was like her body knew what to do, but her brain had no idea what was going on and it had long since exited the hangar bay of her skull and was scanning the azure nebula for scientific research.

Stranger metaphors were also going on, but this was sufficient.

Her breathing was irregular, specific touches of his lips to parts of her skin illicited soft gasps, and a heightened sense of pleasure for her. She watched him, but her eyes pulled shut on occasion, so that she could enjoy the sensations better when she felt her skin sensitivity rising. But both her hands stiffened when his lips closed around one of her nipples, and her eyes shot open. No need to increase sensitivity there, it was already too darn sensitive. Biting her lower lip a lot harder than normal, she made odd, choked noises that was far more than gasps, and just before outright giggles. Or moans. McMillan was baffled by her desire to emit so many sounds all at once, all indicative of all sorts of things. Ultimately she squeaked and then slapped a palm over her mouth, eyes wide.

[ Carrigan Trent | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage

He could feel her hand in his short hair, and how her delicate fingers were working there.  And he could not fail to notice a small, shy hand on the bare skin of his thigh.  And that touch itself elicited even more of a reaction from his member, for it had gone from stiffening to standing at full mast with the proximity of her hand. 

However, one thing he was hardly certain about was how she would react to his kissing of her breast.  She did strike him as a rather tactile creature to begin with, but also a very gentle one.  And given how she'd reacted whenever they'd had a chance to be alone, he was certain she had not practical experience with such things.  Oh, certainly she had intellectual knowledge of such things all right, and she might  even have indulged in some self-gratification.  But actually having a man touch her like this?  That had to be new. 

And that was confirmed not long after.  Oh, her gasps and even her giggles might be something she'd always do, even the odd moan she had let out.  But what cemented Trent's impression of her inexperience was the rather undignified squeak she almost instantly silenced with a palm across her mouth. 

Releasing the nipple from between his lip, he straightened his back and looked into her eyes, a soft smile on his lips.  And, truth be told, some amusement twinkled in his own eyes.  "Heather... this was the first time someone's done this with you, isn't it?" 

There was no accusation in his words, simply an honest question.  "If it is, we can slow down if you'd like... I wouldn't want to rush you."  But even as he spoke, he let his fingers gently caress at the delicate swell of her breast, a much lighter contact, one he knew she found pleasant but less involved.  If anything, he would let her set the pace.

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]When he reacted some more, McMillan couldn't help a pleased and satisfied smile. She seemed to have a instinctual idea! That was probably good. She was afraid of the potential of seeming like a defective being. On the other hand, she could tell that Trent certainly could take the wheel anytime, but he was being nice about it all. She really liked that about him. Knowing all that he was capable of, yet he would take the time to be with someone like her. It made her faint...almost literally. She felt herself falter for the briefest second, as if overcome with exhaustion, but it passed so quickly, she had barely moved or shown anything, save for her eyes fluttering for an instant, and a quick tremble of her lips and her body.

After her little squeak, Trent had paused. Still smiling, it made McMillan weak-kneed, but also a little embarrassed, wondering, Oh no, oh no, I shouldn't have let that out! Heather, you idiot!

“.......” The question threw her off. She was sort of expecting it, but she hadn't been thinking that'd be the question he'd ask. Gazing steadfastly at him with her naturally hazel-coloured eyes, she leaned forward and gently pecked him on the lips, “Yes...” said McMillan after her kiss, and she took both her palms to rest against his chest. Lowering her gaze as he spoke, and as he gently caressed her breast, and she wondered why he liked doing that, and why she liked him to keep doing that, so she shifted to rest a palm over his biological hand, as a sort of encouragement to keep going.

She looked up at him, with a shy smile, and said, “D-don't stop now...I...uhm...I like this.” And she reached forward awkwardly to kiss his chin. She resisted frowning, as she realized her vision blurred a moment, causing her to miss her aim of his lips.

[ Carrigan Trent | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage

If anything, Trent was certain he knew the answer to his question.  Such a shy, tentative little thing?  That was pretty much a certainty she was hardly experienced in that particular arena.  For a time, she was silent, but then she answered just as he had expected.  From where the man was sitting, it meant a handful for things.  First, this would be a very interesting process to see all that made her tick in the best of ways; and just as interesting would be how she'd be working towards learning what made him tick, too. 

However, she was enjoying herself, and not only did she say so, but the touch of her hand upon his, ever so gently and tenderly pressing his palm against her breast was a clear indication of that.  But then, she surprised him, again.  By kissing him on the chin.  Oh, that was likely not deliberate, but Trent took it in stride and with a grin of his own he pecked as well... the very tip of her nose. 

To the outsider, this might seem odd. Trent was the focused, controlled, proper, and unyielding XO.  But in private, he was just a man, no more and no less.  And especially around Heather, he knew he could afford to let his guard down; she was not Starfleet, she had no expectations of how a Commander, let alone the XO, should be acting around her and what he should or should not be.  With her, he was just Carrigan. 

"What would you say if I suggested we head over towards my bed?" 

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]She felt like it was indeed an experiment. Both sides were observing one another in their actions. But it was an experiment of pleasure and...for McMillan, compatibility. Emotionally and maybe spiritually to some extent, it seemed like she could match with him. But her physical frailty and weakness meant intimacy had to be done with extreme caution. She was excited, and so was he, by her read. But if either party got careless, she would be lucky to be getting treatments for only fractures and broken bones.

She smiled when he pecked her on the nose. He thought she intentionally kissed his chin. So maybe her bad aim wasn't such a bad thing.

She wondered how the man would take her. She was from the outside looking in where Starfleet was concerned. Sure, she was a provisional officer now, but when she came aboard, she was a civilian, and held little to no access to most places on the ship. She had none of the training, nor would she be able to withstand most kinds if they'd tried to put her through them. The Radiant just weren't meant to match abilities with the gods. And yet, here she was now, trying to match herself with one. Insane, and yet perfectly sensible.

Smiling and trying her best to be confident in her answer, she said “I would say that is a most excellent suggestion, Carrigan.” She hoped she wasn't being too bold. She'd never dared to speak like that before.

Not entirely trusting her buckling knees at the moment, she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, eyes locked with his, hoping that he wouldn't mind terribly carrying her to the bed. She already had managed to work herself until she was literally sitting in his lap.

[ Carrigan Trent | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage

Heather McMillan was an oddity on a starship, if only by her position.  A civilian scientist hitching a ride on a Starfleet vessel wasn't exactly rare.  But one getting on what was for all intents of purpose a warship with some science labs shoehorned in was; especially when said ship had been initially sent in the effort to negotiate with the Romulans and had then become little more than a pirate in the bulk of people's eyes.  And then, after taking part in heroic actions during a mutiny, it had been Carrigan Trent himself who had recommended she be issued a combadge and granted provisional rank, make her truly part of the crew. 

And now, there she was, half-naked in his lap and, to put it mildly, they'd started getting busy.  She was a beauty in her own rights, if not what most would call a classical one.  She was small, slender, delicate; her curves matched that lithe frame of hers and he knew plenty of men would disregard her as being 'flat', and plenty of women would deride her as 'having the body of a prepubescent boy'.  But she was the most beautiful woman Carrigan Trent had ever seen; it went beyond her body, beyond her luminosity.  It was a combination of... everything. 

Part of him had expected her to refuse his invitation to head to bed.  But no, instead she'd accepted it, and actually asked him to carry her.  And he smiled.  "Of course." 

Rising to his feet, he put one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back and he lifted her up.  Oh, there certainly was a mass to her, but far less than even he had expected.  And, step by step, he headed towards the bedroom and upon reaching the bed, he set her down upon it.  As he did so, the knot that had (poorly) held his robe closed finally gave, and other than the fabric hiding his arms and shoulders, there was very little left to the imagination all right...

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]McMillan felt her cheeks flushing, but for a myriad of reasons besides embarassment. Keeping her arms carefully wrapped over the back of his neck, she was partially surprised, but pleased that he would carry her lazy butt over to the bed, because her legs were a tangle of useless all of a sudden, but maybe that could be blamed on her having spent most of the day wandering around. She wasn't a high-energy being if that could be believed, and standing or walking as much as she did without warning, coupled with the excitement of the day and the potential harm she inflicted on her own spirit? Maybe she was entitled to a little comforting and pampering, and she wasn't ashamed to admit to herself that she wanted it, quite a bit.

She felt like a baby, being carried by him, but for a moment, she indulged herself in the warm sense of security and safety she felt in the arms of a god. She felt the difference in the strength he applied to carrying her. Initially, he anticipated far more weight than she really was. Although her overall mass was akin to a normal human, aside from her floating, nearly weightless hair, she was easily only half to one third the weight she appeared to be. When she was settled on the bed, she propped herself up by the elbows, never taking her eyes off him for a moment, even, especially when his robe feel open, and she could feel her light building up from within her as a warmth and heat. She knew what comes next.

She bit her lower lip, and sought to even the balance between them so to speak. With one hand, she slowly traced a finger along the waistband of her pants until she reached the clip, and she kept her thumb and index finger in a pinch over it, ready to pop it open, but with her eyes still locked on Trent's, she arched her bare upper torso, just trusting in her instincts that she wasn't making a complete fool of herself, “If...uh...if you want to...?” Her eyes finally broke contact and glanced downwards. Oh she was quite certain he wanted to. But still, it was best to ask.

[ Carrigan Trent | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage

As he sat onto the bed next to Heather, Carrigan simply shrugged out of his robe.  After all, it was no longer concealing anything, not after carrying the Radiant there.  And by now, she definitely would have felt the effect she had on him; now, he was simply making it clear it was no secret he was trying to hide. 

As she propped herself on her elbows, he watched how her muscles played beneath her skin, and how the arch of her back thrust her small breasts and their delicate nipples towards the deckhead.  And at that sight, he could not help but reach out and he tenderly caressed the one nearest to him. Oh, how he loved the feeling of the warm, soft flesh against his hand, made even more special by knowing that despite being a gorgeous young woman who likely had no shortage of suitors, she'd chosen him to first share herself with as such.

And when she reached for the clip of her pants, and further invited him to attend to it, he looked into her eyes for a moment, then leaned forward to place a kiss upon her lips, but then he started trailing his lips against her delicate skin.  Down her neck and along her collarbone, up the slope of a breast to the peak of a nipple and back down.  Then dotting a path to her bellybutton as he shimmied down.  With ease, he undid her trousers and hooked his fingers into their waistband.  For a moment, he considered also taking her underwear along, but he decided against it for the time being, and he slowly dragged the pants off her hips and down her legs, before letting them fall to the deck. 

Making his way back towards her, he let a hand trail along her coltish legs, and finally along the inside of her thigh as he settled himself next to her.  His fingers were gently teasing at the skin, not quite touching the fabric of her panties yet.  Oh, he had no doubt she wanted to take this further, but he would let her set the pace.

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]As their arousal took each other higher and higher into planes of pleasure that she had never, ever been to, she knew this next part was going to be a literal make-or-break moment, and it had nothing to do with the relationship, but the physical aspect. Shielded as she was by her latent psychokinesis, which provided a marginal durability that would have otherwise without left her even more frail than ever. She never expected to ever need to recall the details on Half-Radiants. But the process was a most tricksome thing. The essential detail she needed to consider was the parents, since she was the one have a relationship with a god. She wanted to do this right, for him, because it was a wonder in and of itself that he would want to be with her. She would tell him so, someday. When she wasn't so uncertain of which way things could go.

She was willing to admit she was more than a little self-conscious, even felt...inadequate, especially when she saw the other women on board the Theurgy. The drawbacks of not taking much that modern medicine had to offer, especially when most of it had adverse effects on the fragile physiology of a Radiant. So she was in awe at the way Trent looked at her. And even more in awe of the obvious effects she seemed to have on him. How, she wondered, had she earned his affections? The surge of emotions that welled up within her created a gentle pulsing glow that shifted in colours as she came closer to the moment. She didn't care how cliché it seemed, but she suspected unicorns and rainbows would blow out of her mind soon. And bunnies, lots and lots of cute, fluffy bunnies.

Her body and posture shifted without changing at all, when she saw his hand going for her breasts. She used to think she would feel offended if someone put their hands there. It was how she was supposed to react...but Trent wasn't just someone, or anyone. He was the one that set her heart racing in a way she had never experienced before. Her response to the approaching hand was a tilt of her head, eyes following said hand, obviously fascinated by his actions. When the hand engulfed one breast, she quite involuntarily closed her eyes, her lips forming an 'o' as if she were about to speak or make a noise, but none came except for a soft, shuddering breath, and she slowly lowered herself to lie flat against the mattress, allowing his hand to follow her down. She wanted to be comfortable and enjoy this properly.

Oh she had long since stopped wondering if she wanted this to go on or not. She more or less had jumped that bridge, barged into the door, and then leapt again, over a happy tribble. So when the kissing came, and when his lips discovered her breasts and nipples, she bit her lower lip, a smile undeniably forming, and she tenderly rested her hands on the back of his neck, letting him do whatever he wanted, fully trusting in him not to inflict harm on her. She was feeling weak, and more frail, but she was foolhardy enough to go on. Besides, she was feeling her body tensing, with delight. There was no way she could let him stop until she was sated, and hopefully, he would be too.

When he had her pants off, she blushed again, despite herself, and her aura of light turned a bright pink, around the face, especially. But she smiled, and grinned, biting down giggles, because Trent's hand was going places that had never been touched by anyone else before, and she was learning new things about herself. Like that burning desire in her loins, which was a pleasurable, yet hungry sensation that made her wish he was a little bolder, a little more free, with that hand, it didn't matter if it was flesh or metal, and got too touching. But considering how sensitive she felt right that instant, she hoped he would do this with knowledge beforehand, and also, she felt she needed to give him some incentive, and something that had been in her heart for some time now.

When he settled next to her, she leaned in towards him, brushing his lips with her own with a tender, gentle kiss, mustering all her feelings and desires into that action and into her eyes, even as she softened the glow of her body, remembering to control herself at all times. Resting one hand on his bicep, she whispered to Trent, “Carrigan, I love you.”

The confession came as a wide-eyed surprise to her even as it might for him. Maybe it was impulsive, maybe it was too soon. But she was completely inexperienced, and right now, with her body aching with desire, maybe she was just acting on lust, but she didn't care. Taking his hand without looking, she guided it towards the waistband of her panties, a pink number that almost left little to the imagination to begin with, but had a lot of pretty rose patterns overlaid over the lace. Her eyes locked on his, and half-smiling, she hooked one of his fingers inside the band and said, “Please...”

The one word gave him permission to make them equal in the lack of clothing, and to do what he desired, because it was her desire too, and then she remembered to add, “Oh, and I think I'm quite ticklish.”

It was necessary to warn him because she wasn't worried about accidentally kicking him or jerking roughly in his grasp, nothing she did could hurt him even if she tried. But she was likely to break bones with any impact. She did not want that, and she doubted he fancied killing her on their first night.

[ Carrigan Trent | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage

Heather's legs.

He had seen them before, briefly, when they had met in her lab.  To a lot of men, just like her small breasts, they would be unattractive.  But to Carrigan Trent?  They held a unique beauty, one that was all Heather's.  Lean, slender, coltish even.  Pale.  Just perfect for her.  And for him, for that matter.  But one thing he had not done the last time they'd been together was touch them.  Soft skin.  Smooth flesh. Firm yet delicate.  And her inner thighs, warm and inviting, just where his fingers were dancing along, just shy of caressing the areas covered by her underwear...

And he observed her reactions.  Her smile that turned into something like a grin, how she shifted on the bed, the small sounds she was making, the ones hidden by her quasi-giggling.  And, of course, there was her light.  He had started to interpret it, and the pink hue of her glow was something he had come to associate with her blushing and flushing, in a good way.  He did not know yet how embarrassment or stress would register along that spectrum, but eventually he would build a better 'vocabulary' of her colours and gleams. 

Her lips touched his, their eyes met.  And then, three words that shook him hard.  And when he heard them, a truth he had known himself since their first formal meeting after the mutiny fully revealed itself.  And he gave voice to it himself in his usual near-whisper; but despite the low tone, the warmth and genuine nature of his words shone through regardless.  "And I love you too, Heather." 

And with his own words spoken, he felt her hands upon his, the one that was still caressing her thighs, and she led it upwards.  Fingertips brushed the fabric of her underwear, feeling a hint of dampness along the way, and she hooked a single finger into her waistband, and she made her intent clear.  So indeed, she was willing to take this even further.  But he was ready to stop the moment she would say so.  For despite his ability to inflict untold suffering, he did not enjoy hurting others.  And harming Heather by way of going further than she was willing to consent to was absolutely unforgivable in his mind. 

Once more his lips touched hers, briefly and sweetly.  And once more he shifted himself down towards her feet.  Once more both his hands went to her waist.  And this time it was her underwear he pulled down, only to drop it on the deck alongside her pants.  And there he remained for a moment, drinking the sight before him.  He had already had a good look at her upper body, but he was not one to ever tire of the sight of her slender frame and small breasts; he had seen her legs plenty, but they had their own unique beauty, one that married perfectly with her torso via her narrow hips.  And in between, right in the middle, was her womanhood, only slightly hidden by hairs nearly as fine as the ones upon her head. 

She'd already told him she was a virgin.  But what he did not know was what she expected.  Had she always 'known' her first time would involve blood and some discomfort?  If that was the case, it was one notion he would make sure she would find the lie in.  After all, the only reason a first time for a woman could be such was because her lover would fail to see she was properly lubricated.  Oh, there was already indication that was well underway, but he would make sure she would be ready...

And when the time would come he would let her set the rhythm and pressure... and he wasn't certain that his being on top would be conducive to her good health. 

But for now, he smiled at her as he rank in the whole sight before him.  "You're gorgeous," he said softly before he made his way back to lay beside her.  His erection was against her thigh, and his hand of flesh and blood landed first just below her breast, and slowly slid down.  At first, his fingertips made their way into the fine thatch of her hair, even as his other hand, the one made of metal and polymers, moved to the other side of her as he gently slipped his upper arm beneath her head until she would use his shoulder as a pillow and his synthetic fingertips started to tenderly brush at her breast.  Oh yes, he would see it it she would be suitably wet before even suggesting taking this to what appeared to be its natural conclusion. 

And to that end, the hand he was born with slipped further down and caressed first the outermost portions of her womanhood, and then a single finger slipped within her folds, but did not fully penetrate her.  For instead, he was gently stroking about the entrance, steadily moving up.  Until he found the tender and firm little nub at the top.

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]She loved how he looked at her. McMillan wasn't certain that she would ever stop marvelling at the fact that a god would look at her the way Carrigan Trent was. It made her giddy with delight, and set butterflies in her stomach. She felt like a kid in a candy store, a cat rolling in catnip, a rabbit in a cabbage garden. Or was it carrots? Bunny seemed to like both. It was such a delight, that it was enough to make her ignore the mild queasyness she felt every now and then. Which coincided with how brightly she shone. Every wave of nausea had her lights dimming, and once she felt fine, the glow would brighten slightly, creating a pulsing effect.

When he told her that he loved her too, she felt light in the head, and wasn't sure if she had passed out. It would be quite disappointing if this turned out to be a dream, but no, she was entirely too sensitive to touch, and his touch would have awakened her if she were asleep. As his fingers worked at the last piece of fabric on her body, McMillan felt an odd impatience and a desire to be rid of clothing, for a lot longer than what was about to happen presently. Clothes hid her light, clothes smothered her, and even the thinnest allowed material and the softest boots chafed her sensitive skin. And...she wasn't going to ever get tired of the way he looked at every part of her body. He seemed pleased even by how ridiculously ticklish she was.

She squirmed visibly now, as his touching and exploring went to her legs. Her aura of light now alternated between orange, to red, to yellow, to pink and back. He used his fingers. Was this how they normally...?

!!!!!!!

She lost her train of thought and burst out with a bout of laughter, bucking and almost leaping off the bed, but for the fact she's gripped the sheets of the bed on either side of herself, and dug herself deeper instead of moving away from his touch. The slightest touch to her smooth, bald skinned womanhood had the strongest tickling sensation that she had ever experienced, along with something akin to an electrical shock, and indescribable pleasure. It was why she stayed almost in place rather than escape. She wanted more! Torturous as it was simultaneously. When the initial feeling subsided for a moment, she slapped her palms over her mouth, staring at Trent with wide eyes. “T-tickles...” she admitted lamely.

Then he told her she was gorgeous, and right then, she was ready to die for him.

If he was shocked by her yelp...yelps of laughter, he took it in a stride, and continued, gently. She was a writhing mess, struggling not to move away, struggling to focus on the pleasurable aspect, and struggling not to accidentally harm him, absurd as that thought was. The few times she'd clenched her legs desperately, all Trent would have felt was fluffy cotton wool pressing on him. She was that soft. But something was happening. The touch, the motions, she could feel her desire for him, and she knew he was getting as turned on by all this. Soft moans intermixed with her giggling and laughing, and she called out his name when he slipped his finger and reached a sensitive and yet more accute spot. “Y-yes...! Carrigan...yes...!”

[ Carrigan Trent | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage

Carrigan Trent was ready for almost everything, or so he thought.  What he had not expected, though, was for Heather to start contorting herself on the bed as she started laughing.  It tickled?  That was a new one for the human.  She had warned him she was the ticklish sort, but this was definitely somewhere he had expected to elicit that sort of response.  Frankly, he hadn't come across a ticklish lover before, and it was not his style to begin with. 

But there was Heather, squirming and giggling under a touch that usually led to something much different. 

And, just as the pad of his finger touched the little bundle of nerve endings at the top of her slit, she reacted in a much more common way and her laughter gave way to moaning, and to calling his name.  And so, he kept ministering in that general area for a little while with one fingers, while the others too got involved, the tips dipping into her slit, feeling her innermost walls from time to time.  For he wanted her, but he would not proceed until she was suitably wet. 

But once he found her to be as lubricated as he thought was needed, he left his hand where it was, but his fingers stilled.  Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her once more, and when he pulled back, he looked into her eyes.  "Do you want... more?"

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]Heather felt nothing short of mortification under her state of arousal. She wasn't entirely sure that Carrigan appreciated her extreme sensitivity to touch. She wasn't sure of anything in this case, as she was threading water in the dark where this was concerned, so whenever she wasn't squinting her eyes shut and trying not to laugh so much, she stared at him with questioning wide eyes. But she was once again lost to the void of the heavens of pleasure?

It still tickled, but there was a very pleasurable sensation along with it that she embarrassedly moaned in between a few soft giggles. What was he doing to her and was this the standard procedure? She shyly lifted her eyes up to him and received a kiss, which she happily returned, and when he asked, her eyes widened, rolling down, then back up, then to the right, as she thought about it, “Y-yes? D-don't stop...I...it's very nice.”

She flushed a bright crimson, before shifting to pink and then normal hues. She let him do what he wanted, trusting in him completely and his experience. As long as she made him happy, nothing else mattered.

[ Carrigan Trent | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage

There it was, a natural pause in their activities so far.  For one, Carrigan Trent wanted more.  Oh, there certainly was joy in giving this sort of pleasure to Heather.  She'd admitted she was a virgin, that much he knew for certain.  But what he did not know was what sort of self-gratification she had engaged into on her own time before.  For all he knew, and given the indications he'd encountered, she had been a complete stranger to the particular pleasures of sex.

And that alone made the prospect rather daunting for Trent as well.  Oh, certainly she wouldn't know better if his performance was sub-standard, but by that same token the last thing he wanted was to make the idea of future lovemaking one she was less than pleased with.  For that was what was happening between them.  It was no one-night stand.  Not just a fuck session where they'd use each other to relieve stress.  She loved him, her devotion to him as blatant as that rather cute nose on her face.  And he loved her, something he thought he'd never truly get to experience.  And the idea of taking this to the very end was a very appealing, if daunting one at this point in time. 

Once more, Carrigan leaned forward and pressed his lips upon Heather's and his synthetic hand came up, brushing a strand of hair from her face.  When he pulled back, he offered her a warm, gentle smile.  "This, this is all part of making love.  And there's nothing I want to do more than make love to you, Heather McMillan."  Again, he kissed her and his prosthetic hand slid from her cheek, down her neck, and brushed at her delicate breast. 

"If you want it, and only if you really do, I'd very much like to take this... all the way."

[ Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | XO's Quarters | Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @CanadianVet
[Show/Hide]At this moment, Heather's desire for Carrigan overrode her usual shy and insecure nature. Her want was so strong, it emboldened her, and made her want to shower him with love, appreciation and affection, which she did, by reaching out with her hands to caress his face, her touch ghostly and gentler than a soft breeze, the touch carrying heat from the warmth of her glow. When he kissed her, she reciprocated and then planted several quick kisses wherever she could, taking in his scent, his taste, his touch. Everything. She felt a jolt when his hand brushed over her breast. Her entire body was alive with sensations, and she looked longingly at him, “There is nothing I want,” said Heather huskily, “than to be made love to by you, Carrigan Trent.”

Her breath caught, and she shivered with anticipation for a moment, then she plunged in, letting him do with her as he pleased. She was like moldable clay. For her own safety, she stayed on top most of the time. It was everything and more than she anticipated this to be. But Heather only knew her desire and bond with Carrigan had grown, and was growing stronger. She would have liked to keep going but the dull throb in her head and the fact that she was beyond exhausted from the day's events and making love on top of it all. When they settled down, Heather curled up lovingly beside her love, and she reached up to kiss him once more, a sweet smile on her lips, “Good night, my love,” she said, her tone sincere and without doubt, “the light shine upon you in your rest...”

As she fell into an easy slumber, her aura of light dimmed only so slightly, but she continued to illuminate the room with ever shifting colours.