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Topic: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone (Read 197 times) previous topic - next topic

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  • stardust
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CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Battle Sickbay | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Swift

Soundtrack (careful, it's sappy)

The floor still trembled with the shake of her tense muscles and the hallway still grumbled with the insatiable appetite of the afterlife. The moment the deck plating had rattled in vibration, like the corpus of a guitar, sending silverware and glasses strumming across the tablecloth, jiggling like wind chimes all around them, Samantha had been having dinner at Below Decks with Sarresh Morali. Someone she had met and grown close to over an ethereal connection their individual, partly alien, physiologies seemed to evoke. Like two glasses vibrating in the very same resonance. Only this time their palpitations were induced by something far more sinister within the bowels of the ship. The silence, which had ensued momentarily, only amplified the subtle sounds, traveling through the beams and hatches of the vessel, like ripples on water.

Catching the half empty glass of wine, dancing towards the edge, moving it back to the center, the diplomat had excused herself from the pleasant company. While the date had served its due purpose of exploring their social interactions further, also alleviating her stress and guilt levels, it had to ultimately conceded to the call of duty. This was a Starfleet ship, after all, on which she was a department head ... not a pleasure cruise to find your soulmate. With that in mind, she gave the Ashreem one last, encouraging smile, likely conveying more reassurance to herself than it did to him. Mind switching to the logical course immediately: locating the whole of her department and updating their status, was the highest priority right now, as protocol demanded. And it helped the blonde tremendously, to pull herself along the tight rope provided, to impose an external set of rules and regulations on her current emotional wildfire.

Pulling herself out of the casino, along the proverbial life preserver, traversing the turbulent stream of nervous officers, scampering to their stations like an ant hive, prodded with a stick, the diplomat started to establish contact with her subordinates. With every feedback, every status report, supplying needed uplift to the airfoils of her emotional state. But that flight crashed and burned ultimately, as the computer could not establish connection with Lieutenant Brogan, neither a positive bio-location, stopping the commander dead in her tracks. Another officer, following close behind, bumped into her, pushing her towards the wall, but neither body nor mind did react. The subsequent apology ringing like an ambient radio station from the off. The notion clouded her judgment, that very instance, for she could not correctly ascertain all the obvious possibilities at play. Instead her mind jumped to the one conclusion that scarred everyone's face around her, rushing through the hallways. The dire panic of the inevitable.

And to reassure this fatal misjudgment, to appease the wayward assumption, there was really only one place on the whole ship, to worship for such ethereal salvation: sickbay. Exiting the turbolift on Deck07, the floor now shaking with the adrenaline-fueled shiver of tense muscles, Samantha found herself in a cloud of faint cinder and burnt meat. The awkward comparison to a barbecue gone wrong, making her stomach flip over. Pressing a hand to her plump lips, the officer had to use every shred of Vulcan discipline to keep the recently consumed dinner where it belonged. As an added bonus, however, the subtle fragrance of lemon, from the fruit she had squeezed over her fish course, on her delicate digits, mixed with the floral bouquet of her subtle perfume, did a decent job to alleviate the oppressive sense of nausea. And as smells could go, they were able to create a bubble of memories, that made the outside world seem like a blurred image of reality. For a little while at least.

The blonde's teal bodysuit, white shoes and untainted pale skin, stood out like a pillar of contradiction, amidst the chaos and sorrow she found herself in. Patients scattered over the entire battle sickbay. Leaning, crouching, lying ... uniforms singed, ripped, bloody ... and so their faces and scalps. Some of them very vocal about their situation, others seemingly unresponsive or in shock. And peppered in between the busy medical staff, letting routine and duty take over their actions, like holy spirits of professionalism and determination. Blue eyes trying to affix themselves to one scenario unfolding, the place was littered with a myriad of personal stories and trauma, that she could not take all in at once. The sentiment reminded her of the final minutes of the Poseidon, evacuating its engineering sickbay to the last remaining escape pods. As unbeknownst to them all, the war had begun to fizzle out like a sparkler at the end of the fuel line. This one, however, had only just ignited.

Theories and assumptions on the cause of the - explosion, was the momentary assumption - was not readily available then, so Samantha had decided not to focus on it. She had come to disarm a different theory, or potentially, validate it. Cause lending to a quick action, the blonde reached out her hand to stop a passing nurse in her tracks, delicate fingers tight around her arm. "I am looking for Lieutenant Brogan, has he been checked in?" she demanded soberly. Not accepting the other woman's temporary confusion and indignity as a token of delay. Raising and lowering her brows in reassertion, the diplomat ultimately relinquished her physical hold on her, while retaining a superior one. Letting blue orbs drop to the PADD, as a non-verbal means of remote control, the commander watched the nurse reluctantly pull up a list and skim through it.

Attention trained on the names passing by, her mind tried to catch syllables of similar construction, only to realize each and every time, they belonged to another name. And whereas the process of elimination, while the scroll indicator moved closer to the bottom, should've alleviated any sense of doubt and worry, the blonde could only feel the anxiety grow. "He's not on the ... oh wait. He's still in the rehabilitation ward." Drawn from a state of utter emotional bleakness, as the list had ended, the diplomat looked up at the nurse, a breath of relief flaring her nostrils, as the faintest sense of emotional distress washed over her pretty features, regardless. She remembered, feeling utterly stupid, that her second in command had not even been granted readiness for duty yet. And as the adrenaline flushed from her system the woman felt lightheaded, like she needed to sit down. But the levity of the revelation kept her afloat.

"Thank you." she voiced, barely audible, the gentle touch of her hand on the woman's arm in stark contrast to where she had held her in place tightly, minutes earlier. Letting the nurse resume her duties, another gust of air escaped from plump lips as Samantha's shoulders rose and subsequently dropped like a hammer. There was still plenty of trauma and sorrow going around, admittedly, and she did not feel like it had all drained from her system yet. The white lab-coat of the woman had moved from her direct field of vision, revealing the full length of the ward, as azure retinas focused in on the far side eventually.

Sitting on the last bio bed, back propped up against the wall, looking at her ... Andrew Fisher. Catching the moment slowing down, the diplomat could feel the pauses in her heartbeats stretching into oblivion. Fate had a twisted agenda of throwing them together, like they were tied to both ends of the same elastic string. It had felt like their connection had been instantaneously, once the first layers had chipped away, and now it seemed to transcend even the fabric of rationale. The woman had had no intention to even seek him out that night, or the next day for that matter. But then somehow all of this had happened, and it had led her here, only to see him like this. Well, fate was certainly rather adept in pulling on the heart strings of her compassion. This was unbearable.

As their gaze across the room held tight, like a reassuring embrace, unbroken by whomever passed in between them, she could take closer inspection of his state. The top of his uniform had been removed and replaced by a bandage, hugging his midriff, a red blot of blood on his lower left abdomen like a wax seal on the scroll of his emotional torment, keeping everything sealed up and hidden. And if it weren't for the way his eyes conveyed a familiar sense of determination, no matter how glazed over with disillusion and sorrow, her heart would've probably dropped. As it was in this moment, she remembered the first hours after the war, as all the survivors of the Poseidon's engineering hull had been collected by the USS Galaxy. How she had searched sickbay after sickbay, for a sign of life, of someone dear to her too. How she had hoped, wished, pleaded, to find Brody across the room with a look such as this, conveying as sense of him being okay. No such luck had ever been bestowed on her.

And it brought forth the contemplation of the million ways this could've ended differently too. And what it would've meant to her if it had. How trivial everything else seemed, when their argument - HER argument - had already degraded into a sentiment of childishness, as the hours had progressed, since the interrogation of Dr. Nicander. She wasn't the same person she had been back then, not by a long shot. And while that was the very reason they had ended up on opposite sides of the same room, it seemed, it was also why she wouldn't let a second chance slide away. To say what she couldn't have said if the situation had gone even the slightest of a different direction. Even if she didn't think she deserved the salvation for herself, it somehow too felt as if she owed it to her late husband to not let another man leave this plane of existence wondering.

Leaning forward, into her first step, Samantha weaved through the currents of people, milling around the room. When she had met Brody for the first time, his dealings with intelligence had been a thing of the past already. But through the duration of their marriage, she had never felt the hold diminishing, that it still had on him. He had left too late. Andrew, on the other hand was still in the thick of it. And no matter what else fate had in mind for them, she could not help but think that she would've wanted for someone to be there to take care of Brody sooner. When he had really needed it. Someone to let him know he'd not been alone. For her, that had not been meant to be, although she treasured the time that they'd had immeasurably. This was her time to make the difference that she'd always hoped someone would've done for her late husband. To change someone else's destiny maybe in a way she had hoped for herself.

"You're not cutting yourself a break, hmm?" she spoke softly, pushing down the deeper sentiments for a moment, as she arrived by the foot-end of his bed, appraising his more serious looking stomach wound. Alluding to what she had learned about him, she felt like, in the short time they had grown surprisingly close. That he liked to jump into the thick of it, headfirst. And while that sentiment did not seem entirely deliberate in this very case, the superficial judgment prevailed, if only in a dry, humorous capacity. It had sort of transcended as the chemistry their relationship was now based on. That feeble balance between the light and surfacy, as well as the heavier elements at the end of the periodic table, that were their inner layers. But watching him in this state, like fate slapping her in the face with a wakeup call, the urgency of salvation became much more so apparent.

"I'm sorry." Samantha said quietly, her composure belying the painful lump forming in the sternum of her chest. It wasn't something she had ever gotten to say to Brody. As an absolution to their pointless fights and arguments. And if anything, she owed it to him not to make the same mistake twice. Just as she owed Andrew the truth ... and herself the ability to grow, as a person, still. Even if he wouldn't have said anything in return, there was a subtle sense of complacency in knowing that she'd managed to say it after all ... and that he'd heard her.

  • Last Edit: July 24, 2020, 06:54:01 PM by stardust

  • Swift
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #1
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Battle Sickbay | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

Time had slowed to a crawl. The world had gone gray, and eerily silent for the Chief Intelligence Officer as he lay quietly atop a bio-bed. Though he could still hear out of his non-ruptured ear, the words of Ensign Vojona still seemed distant and far away. The nurse had attempted to explain the extent of injuries Fisher had sustained in the explosion, but none of it seemed to register with him. He could only seem to focus on the lingering visage of bodies torn and broken; eyes fixed wide and unmoving as the life had since left them. He hadn't yet received any word of the 'butcher's bill', but he imagined it was extensive; and he was terrified at the names that might end up appearing on it, and whatever ramifications that came as result. Even pain had subsided, leaving Fisher feeling only dull and removed from the reality of it all.

"Commander Fisher?"

As though there were a distant echo of his name, Fisher blinked out of his thousand-yard stare, and realized that it'd been the Ensign calling for his attention.

"Hmm... right, sorry." Fisher apologized, realizing that he'd completely ignored what the Ensign had been saying. Though he couldn't read the features of an Ovri as well as he could a Human, there appeared to be an unmistakable look of concern in Vojona's amphibian features. "I uhh... could you repeat what you just said?"

Raising the ridge above one of his eyes in an inquisitive look, Vojona then nodded in understanding. "Your injuries are under control for the time being, as I've managed to stop the moderate level of internal bleeding in your abdominal cavity." He explained, holding up a vascular regenerator between two of his frog like fingers. "Had you been drinking actual alcohol, rather than synthol, we would have been forced to perform an invasive surgical procedure in order to stem the bleeding." Vojona warned, having detected the high-levels of synthol in Fisher's blood. He then set the tool down on a tray and motioned to Fisher's right pantleg that had been cut away, revealing an osteogenic stimulator placed just below the knee. "Give it another half-hour, and the repair to the fractures of your tibia and fibula will also be complete, after which time I will address the broken ribs on your right side. I have also closed the superficial wounding to your face, and neck. However, the severe wounding to your back and abdomen can only be repaired so much by dermal regeneration. I've bandaged the wounds as a result, and recommend you schedule a follow-up appointment in order to have them healed more thoroughly, otherwise they will scar over."

"Understood." Fisher acknowledged, though the likelihood of him finding the time to re-visit the infirmary for such a minor reason seemed slim. Fate had turned against Theurgy, and he was betting Time would too.

"I will return shortly with the tool necessary to heal your damaged right ear." Vojona retrieved the tray of tools and left the Chief Intelligence Operative to attend to another patient with similar wounds. It was likely that many, if not most of the victims of the bombing had sustained some form of injury to their ears, as thus far the three auditory regeneration probes within this particular sickbay were all in use.

In the meantime, Fisher let his attention drift away again. This wasn't the first bombing he'd lived through, but it was the closest he'd ever come to being killed in one. But again, as before, he'd been spared when others hadn't. Ducote. Akoni. Douglas. They'd taken the harsh brunt of the explosion, but as far as Fisher knew, the three hadn't outright been killed, though given the grave nature of their injuries, there were no guarantees that they still yet lived. As their statuses had yet to be confirmed in one way or the other, there were many however, whose lives had been snuffed out in an instant. Kaban to name one; the Klingon warrior whom Fisher had shared a few drinks, and tales of glory in battle, had been cut down by a stray piece of debris which pierced his skull, killing him. Torvok, Kaban's brother, along with many other Klingons would stand guard over the bodies of the fallen, in accordance with the practice of Ak'voh; keeping them safe from predators until their spirits crossed into Sto-vo-kor, the Klingon afterlife.

There would likely be many forms of mourning, and funeral rights performed for the victims in the coming days.

Letting his eyelids close as he lay back, Fisher felt himself come to a rest against the upright of the wall behind the bio-bed. The dull ache of his gradually healing right leg began to fade, leaving only the light throbbing of his head in terms of pain. For now, he was content to at least wait until his leg healed well enough to leave sickbay, whatever would come after he wasn't so sure of. But as he tried to relax, he struggled to come to terms with how cold the world had suddenly become for him. 'Why?' he asked himself. Why had fate been so cruel in its selections? It had tried to steal a good man like Ducote away from a world that needed him. From a wife, that needed him. Why hadn't fate chosen Fisher instead? Fisher, who had no one. Nary a tear would be shed if he had been the one so badly mangled in the explosion. No one would care that another spy had been taken away before breaking the hearts, and minds of everyone around him. It was what spies did. They burned all the bridges around them, in an attempt to exile themselves unto an island of their own, where they could keep a watchful eye on everything, and everyone without guilt or shame holding them back.

He was a stranger by design, and in that, he realized how badly he would trade place with Ducote if he could.

Fisher hated it. He hated himself. He hated fate. He hated the world. He hated everything, and everyone. And in that hatred, he felt empowered. He could feel the disharmony of abject disdain for a cruel and cold world tugging at his soul, and he was ready to give in. He could feel himself being pulled into the shadows, and whatever little vestiges of morality and consideration giving way. Oh, how he was ready to give in. How he wanted to confirm all the unfair judgments of others out of spite, becoming so very worse than the thing they accused him of being out of association. He wanted to take short-cuts. He wanted to shred his moral guide and shove all that the Federation stood for into a blender. He could be so much stronger, so much more effective at defending it, if he didn't abide its standards. He could be the man that not only crossed the line, but also stood defiantly on the other side of it permanently, so as to spare others the shame and condemnation of choosing immoral paths to victory.

His fists clenched tightly as he envisioned himself slipping, and unlike every time before, when faced with the prospect of himself falling privy to the darkness, he wouldn't catch himself. He wouldn't step back from the brink. Instead, he imagined throwing himself into it with little regard. No more would there be a light visualization, only an all-consuming black void that was happy to take him. Perhaps there was never meant to be any light in the first place, he wondered.

Not for him at least.

With a desire to understand himself, and who he assumed he was meant to be, Fisher opened his eyelids. He'd convinced himself that he wanted to feel truly enveloped by this cold world he existed in, only instead he saw something, or rather, someone who reignited that light once more.

Across the modest infirmary, her azure eyes met his of viridian, and held each other. Instantly, all that indignant rage. The coldness of his heart and soul that he'd been ready to embrace. The bleak visualization in his mind. All of it was gone. Returning was the familiar, yet unwanted warmth of a desire to do good, and be good in life. His reservations. His considerations. All of them were back, as if they had never left, and that person he had struggled so much to keep at bay was again, gone. Despite how ready he had been to throw away who he is at his very core, he hadn't. It felt as though a contract for his soul had been drawn up in exchange for the strength he desired, only for him to be rescued at the last second by a guardian, his signature having never fully appeared along the devil's dotted line.

An angel had pulled him back.

Still, he remembered the look of disapproval in her face from earlier. The way his heart had hardened in his chest when she seemed ready to dismiss him outright, as just another typical spy. She'd discovered how deceitful men like Fisher could be, even if he himself hadn't been. It felt like the right determination for her part, to stay away from him. And as much as it tormented him; the dark recesses of his subconscious screaming at him like a wild untamed banshee, urging him to hate her, the way he had been so ready to hate everything and everyone just a moment earlier, he simply couldn't. It wasn't him. It wasn't who he was meant to be. Even if she wanted nothing more to do with him, he knew in the end, he would always strive to be better than to give into the demons that taunted him relentlessly.

He simply couldn't. He simply wouldn't hate her.

She approached him, stopping just at the foot of his bio-bed. Her voice was soft as she spoke, the words escaping beyond her plump lips absorbed into him like a soothing breeze. And in turn, he afforded her an ever so slight grin. "Yeah. I guess not." He was more than willing to again embrace the life-preserver of levity that she'd tossed to him, knowing how badly they needed some of it to exist in place of the tense situation that now existed between them. His green eyes however averted their focus of her, as he struggled against the urge to fully embrace her beautiful form, and grace. Guilt, and a feeling of undeserving were at the forefront of his mind as he tried once more in vain to tell himself he didn't want to explore this thing between them. But it was a futile attempt, as he couldn't shove that desire away. It consumed him instead, and his eyes returned to her. In his mind, the visualization of the blackness in his heart returned, a faint light lingering on, and he couldn't embrace the bleak resolve necessary to stamp it out.

And as she offered an apology for the manner in which she'd seemingly written him off, that light suddenly and brilliantly flared, driving back that darkness even further.

Fisher wanted to refuse the apology, not out of any feeling of malice toward her, for that simply didn't exist at all, but rather to spare her the burden that he felt he represented. Mere seconds earlier he'd felt a need to embrace some kind of self-righteous vindication at having been judged unfairly, but now there was a terrifying underlying truth that he considered; that her judgement wasn't unfair. He indeed bore the guilt of his profession, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he was different, he feared that in many ways, he wasn't. There was a terrifying thought, that he was just one bad day away from becoming the very thing he truly, and deeply despised. Afterall, today had nearly pushed him there. The closest he'd come as of yet to embracing that alternate persona. He knew how dangerous he could be, to others, and more specifically to her. Part of him beckoned at him to snap, and yell at her; to send her away for her own good, but selfishly he couldn't do it.

"Sam, I..." he began to speak, only for his thought to be interrupted by Ensign Vojona as he returned with an auditory regeneration probe. He glided around behind Rutherford, and without so much as a warning attached the probe to Fisher's bloodied right ear canal, activating it. It caused a sudden and intense popping in Fisher's ear, causing him to wince visibly in a moderate sense of pain.

"Oops... sorry, I suppose I should have mentioned that would happen." The amphibian nurse explained, leaving the probe attached to Fisher's ear. "It will take approximately five minutes to heal completely." He turned to appraise the Diplomatic Officer, and her dress. "Hello, Commander." His big ovoid eyes going back to Fisher again. "I will return again to check on the status of your broken leg. Excuse me until then."

As Vojona left, Fisher shook his head amusedly, before deciding to speak again, though he would leave what he'd been about to say before being interrupted, unsaid.

"Any word yet on Ducote, or any of the others?"
  • Last Edit: July 15, 2020, 11:44:27 AM by Swift
Writer of [ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Chief Intelligence Officer | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]

  • stardust
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #2
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Battle Sickbay | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Swift 

The silence hung in the air between them, occupying the small bubble they had created, among the pain and suffering filling sickbay. Like a mist of uncertainty, glowing with only the faintest glimmer of assurance, somewhere in the distance. Even if it felt as if she was the only one holding that lantern, she'd gladly do so, until he could see the light too. And if it wasn't within a diplomat's realm of skill, to make someone believe in the very same thing, then it was for no one. It would've only taken Andrew a brief look around, to see how people had come to aid in this trying hour. How almost any bio bed had a sympathetic companion, be it just a caring nurse or doctor. And it could've been the sea-blue nurse, for him, if that's what he wanted. But while the Ovri could've helped and assisted everyone with their injuries and struggles, her own ministration was trained to the very kind of torment, within the handsome brunette. At this point, however, Samantha only really cared about it being someone. Someone to drag him from the quicksand of imperfection and duty - the deadliest of mixes.

As he started out a reply to her apology, it remained hanging there, amid the ever present quiet within the ruckus. And though it could've gone both ways, given the ambiguously pained expression and tone, the blonde decided it was a good thing. So, she didn't need to hear more ... now. Feeling the nurse brush past behind her, the officer kept her sparkling blue eyes trained on Drew's murky green pools of sorrow. To her, they continued the conversation that had been cut short, and she was there for every second of it. As the Vojona shoved the probe in the man's ear, however, his body convulsed lightly, causing the diplomat to reach out a mere few inches, cupping the naked toes of his left foot with her warm right hand, above the blanket. It seemed to be the safest place with no additional pain, and the closest to her, to reciprocate any kind of comfort. The pain of the device, hadn't seemed terrible, but she still did not enjoy it, despite the slightly comedic undertone of the nurse's blunt bedside manners. 

Turning her attention to the Ovri finally, keeping a gentle hold of Fisher's toes, Samantha swallowed awkwardly, as the emotionless dark eyes scanned over her figure, as if equipped with some kind of x-ray vision, to ascertain whether she needed any sort of medical attention. "Ensign." she replied curtly, but relaying enough warmth to pay off the debt of gratitude, towards her care for the commander. Relieving Vojona with a small nod, the blonde took a moment to let her eyes trail through the sickbay once more, before they would be relentlessly occupied by the man's exposed, bruised skin and sage eyes, once more. Things seemed to calm down slowly, as the influx of new patients started to subside. They were either relayed to another facility now, or this had been it. Everyone who wasn't here yet, likely never would be. Then Andrew spoke up again, not to continue his previous thought, but washing it down with his innate sense of duty. Something she both loved and hated about him, right then.

Looking back at the man, the diplomat frowned, had he just asked for their first officer? "I uh ..." she shook her head disbelievingly, conveying her utter shock. "I don't know." She froze for a second. But Samantha Rutherford had a sense of duty too. And it could gloss over the sense of emotional fragility just as well. Taking a deep breath she looked around once more, catching sight of the human nurse she had queried before. "Lieutenant! Have all casualties been recorded yet?" Seeming just the slightest bit bothered, by the second interruption in such a short time by the blonde, the nurse did adhere to her duty and quick check her PADD once more. "Yes Ma'am, they have. We are treating twenty ..." she started to reiterate her numbers, when the commander cut her off. "Commander Ducote? Anyone else of the senior staff?" she queried urgently, prompting the woman to take a closer look, and she didn't have to look long. A somber look washed over the nurse's face as she nodded slowly, before starting to relate some names.

Samantha's grip on Andrew's toes tightened ever so slightly, as she tried to syphon some of that strength, she meant to convey, back towards her. Perfectly groomed brows creased in concern, sympathy, worry and a whole other mix of painful emotions. The first officer dead, the wife left in mourning. She could only imagine what Tiran must've been going through right now. Yet actually, she didn't have to, she'd gone through it too, and she'd barely gotten out of it, if she had yet at all. Even though it was well within the realm of possibility for any Starfleet couple, it was usually pushed to the back of one's mind, until it flung into presence so quickly, it almost tore you to the ground. But then, personal experiences aside, stirred from obscurity once more, there was also the ramification of losing the office of the first officer. Which, for a crew, was a tragedy only surpassed by the loss of their captain. It was the near worst that could happen to moral and courage. It would set them back a considerable bit and it made it very hard to retain just the faintest sense of hope. But she did.

,,YOU, will stay in your bed at least until the morning." she subsequently ordered Andrew, a part of her Vulcan heritage breaking through the temporary chaos. Though her voice was still lined with the faint crack of subdued emotion. "And if you won't take the order from me, I'll find Tyre to reinforce it." The diplomat made herself very clear, punctuating each line with a tug on his toes. She could imagine the man forcing himself from the bio-bed and back to his duties, now even more so than just minutes earlier, when he'd already been spring-loaded with the added responsibility of the situation. "I'll keep you in touch with the rest of senior staff and check in with your department. Make sure they're alright." So, far she had already checked her own subordinates, so it was no trouble extending the curtesy. And even though she had only intended to help him, as a fellow department head, she felt horrible about it, knowing how much control meant to him. She didn't want to do it, but there was no way she would've let him do it himself, in his current state.

Taking a moment to let the words sink in, Samantha heaved with a calming breath. Her Vulcan side had once more overcompensated, it felt like, dispersing from her tense muscles like cheap perfume. But it had felt good to take a break from the dire emotional state all the while. And though she felt like her tone and urgency had conveyed a sense of unrelentless care, she didn't want it to overcast the root sympathy, emanating from a deeper emotional connection. While there was certain concern about the command structure and the progress of their individual departments from here on, it did not begin to hold a candle to the concern she harbored for Andrew's ongoing emotional wellbeing. Brushing her plump lips together, pressing every hue of rosy color from them temporarily, the soft cushions filled quickly with pink vigour, as she spoke once more, calmly.

"Anything else you'd need from me?"

  • Last Edit: July 24, 2020, 06:54:16 PM by stardust

  • Swift
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #3
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Battle Sickbay | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

In the course of his lifetime, Andrew Fisher had like anyone else, encountered his fair share of mysteries. Strange occurrences and enigmas that he simply couldn't make sense of, no matter how deeply he tried. Added to that list, and perhaps chief among them in the moment, was this strange connection with someone that had developed in such a short time. What was it about Samantha Rutherford that pulled at him? What was it about her, that kept him from embracing the temptation and empowering thrill of diving into the darkness of his psyche as though it were an all-enveloping blanket? Why was he so interested in exploring this sudden thing between them? Why in turn, was she seemingly drawn to him? All of these questions gnawed at the very forefront of his mind, but he dared not give any of them the bulk of his attention, lest they spoil his ability to enjoy the brief moments he'd shared with this strikingly beautiful woman. For those moments were fleeting and far between each other, and there were no such guarantees that more would yet come.

Before his open eyes, the world was gradually turning as dark as it was when they were closed.

And as a tidal wave of new information surged into his cortex in the form of a ringing pain, caused by a burst eardrum that had suddenly begun to heal at the prompt of the auditory regenerative probe, Fisher saw stormy clouds of darkness refill his vision as he winced instinctively, eyelids clenching shut. Yet at the slightest comforting sensation, that darkness subsided along with a majority of the associated pain. An anchor tied to him in the form of her comforting touch, held him at bay so that he could weather the storm. Fisher opened his green eyes and saw the look of concern in Sam's face, a look that betrayed the truth, and corrected his assumption that no one cared whether he survived or not. Someone did. She did. And though it were a mystery to him as to why, he found himself not caring, only feeling appreciative of having indeed survived, as it allowed them to experience and share in just one more of those fleetingly brief moments.

Green eyes averted again as Fisher understood that it was likely too early to know what fate had yet befallen the Executive Officer, and all of the other victims of this senseless act. Though, the likelihood of that outcome was grim to say the least, and it created an instability within the crew, as the key player in keeping the ship's newest piece of technology running, their Chief Engineer, was now mired with the anguish of the potential death of her husband. It would have been a pure supposition on Fisher's part to assume that the attack had been a deliberate attempt to strike such a blow, and it may well have been a coincidence, but for him it tracked too much for him to be naïve about it. That said, the investigation would be carried out by Security; he was in no position, or situation to truly lead such a task. Of course, in a sense, neither was Security now, as they too had been dealt a devastating blow to their morale, and efforts, as Commander Akoni had also been caught in the blast.

With an exasperated audible sigh, Fisher shook his head and felt himself tense up; an insatiable need for vengeance fueled on by a pulsating rage that ran through his veins like nitroglycerine. Were it not for that little shred of physical contact holding him at bay, and perhaps maybe his gradually mending broken right leg, he would have leapt from the bio-bed and stormed off for the CIS where he could put this aggression to use. Instead, he maintained that last vestige of self-control, and leaned back against the wall a second time, deliberately smacking the back of his head against it. It was an unreasonable thing for him to try and intercede in this matter. Anger might have been giving him the desire to run through a brushfire, but in reality, he was in no useful condition to anyone if he did. Simply put, he was compromised all the way through at the moment. His body broken, and in much need of rest; and his mind filled with rage and other dark emotions that would cloud his better judgement.

And as if she could sense that need in him, Sam tuned in and pointed out how ridiculous it would've been for him to do exactly that. He could tell that her 'order' was made out of more than concern for his well-being, but also because she could see that compromise in him. She also knew when to apply just the right amount of levity, with the added threat of an order from the ship's CMO.

"I guess I better do as you say then." His voice betrayed a hint of that fire inside starting to subside yet again, as he smirked ever so slightly.

"Besides... Doc's probably busy enough right now. It'd be a dick move on my part if I forced you to pull him away for something like that."

His mind began to drift to one of consideration, as he imagined just how hard Tyre was fighting to save lives. Perhaps, hopefully even the lives of their Executive Officer, and Chief of Security. But the sorrowful thought was one he really didn't have the heart to explore anymore. He'd spent his quota for emotional response in end some throughout the day, and now he was running on nothing but fumes. That 'fuel' that had been pumping through him just minutes earlier, nothing more than an illusion; born out of a need to find some kind of control of a situation that had run amok. Instead he only nodded in appreciation of her offer to keep an eye on any developments from his people throughout the night, giving him a much-needed respite from the duty that he just couldn't ever say no to. A duty that had driven him nearly rotten over the previous ten years, but that he couldn't for one reason, or another give up once and for all.

"Thanks." His genuine gratitude clearly evident in this lone word.

"No." He smiled to her, his green gaze catching her own once more. "I should be fine." And when he finished with the latter statement, he wasn't even himself certain if it were a reassuring lie, or the actual truth.

"Actually..." interjected Vojona as he scurried back over to them, having evidently heard their conversation enough to know exactly when, and where to re-insert himself into it. Leaving the semi-conscious injured crewman, he'd been attending to behind him, the Ovri Nurse approached Sam once more, and held up one of his amphibian fingers. "If you wouldn't mind, Commander Rutherford." He began to speak, checking the panel of the bio-bed for a reading on the status of Fisher's knee, only to nod a moment later. "Commander Fisher's leg is nearly healed, but given the level of injuries he's sustained, most notably his concussion, there is a chance of sudden... unconsciousness to occur. If you wouldn't mind seeing him to his Quarters, so as to ensure he doesn't collapse in the middle of a corridor somewhere?" the Nurse's black eyes shifted between Sam and Drew as his head tilted to the side in an almost pleading manner. "It would also allow me to keep my staff here, to continue working with the other injured patients."

Reaching out a hand, Fisher raised a finger in order to protest the need for a baby-sitter.
Writer of [ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Chief Intelligence Officer | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]

  • stardust
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #4
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Battle Sickbay | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Swift 

The loss of life and the names narrated to her, were horrible, scary, devastating ... but there were also logical aspects to consider. So, Samantha's brain switched into that gear, going through all the facts and devising strategies to deal with them. Obviously the chain of command would not be broken. Stark would temporarily spring into place and take over the position of the first officer. The same went for Akoni, who had a deputy of his own. Any of them had, for this very reason. Even though, when they dealt with them on a regular basis, her with Foval and Brogan, then they did so in a superior/subordinate relationship, sometimes cooperative, sometimes demanding. But never did they think about the more administrative purpose of the first and second in line. That they would ultimately replace the department head, if anything happened to them. So, just as well, the diplomat could've had to deal with Lieutenant Arn, from now on, if things had gone slightly different. Who, albeit handsome, lacked Andrew's distinct boyish glimmer and superior beard game. Among other chief attributes, that were not really logical to consider, right now.

Feeling the man's body tensioning, at the very same revelation - well, maybe not the very same - the blonde officer tightened her grip on his toes ever so reassuringly. She was here for him and would take over the responsibility, that drew at his muscular shoulders. For a moment, however, she was not sure if her reassurance was enough, if she would actually be able to keep him in his bed. His leg and ear healing. But potentially she had conveyed enough willpower and determination, through her touch and tone, to relate that she was being rather serious about her demands. Like she would, at the end of a fruitless negotiation, when the trump-card had to be played, to bring everything to an advantageous conclusion still, for both sides. Not always was a mutually beneficial agreement also mutually agreed upon. Which didn't, however, diminish the outcome. A slight nod dipped her pate with a faint, self-validating smile, as Andrew conceded. Turning her smile into a contemplative upside down, however, as he then voiced concern about the doctor's business, the diplomat still nodded further. "I am glad you value the doctor's feelings over mine." she patted his toes now in subtle, humorous payback, not caring if it hurt at least a little.

The sentiment however changed, and Samantha was not able to even remain mockingly mad at him, as Drew's mood shifted to one of serious gratitude. It made her feel a little bit heavy in her chest, realising how dolorous it was, that he felt like this wasn't normal among friends ... or even just colleagues, for that matter. She could only imagine a similar distrust and protectiveness in him as she had found in Brody, once upon a time. Like a little dog, that had been out in the rain, pushed around and abandoned, for the longest time. "It's fine." she replied, quietly, her voice fading into nothingness towards the end, while the level of patting on his foot, followed a similar sentiment. "So, I'll ..." the commander started out, intending to excuse herself to the recluse of her quarters and the feelings, that would soon resurface, once the Vulcan control subsided, on the verge of falling asleep. Not really something she looked forward to. Thoughts aside, though, the reason why she'd been cut off was Vojana intervening from the off. Raising a speculation over how much eavesdropping the amphibian had done. And he didn't even really have ears to speak of.

Listening to the alien explain his interjection, the diplomat wasn't sure whether she liked where this was going. She did, however, not have to contemplate long, whether to concede or not, as she saw Fisher about to object. That little gesture alone sparked a sense of competition, that she had first encountered that one night they'd met at Below Decks, trying to outdo one another on comedic relief. And his contest, right now, was pretty comedic. What did he hide in his quarters that she wasn't supposed to see? To be fairly honest, Sam would've offered to escort him back to his humble abode, had she known him leaving sickbay was an option. Granted, it made a lot of sense, given the myriad of patients with more serious conditions, still waiting to be treated. But it would've never been in her realm of expertise to offer such a possibility. "Alright, let's do this." she subsequently instructed, cutting the man off from any objection, holding her arms out while snapping her fingers to her palms, back and forth, in a beckoning motion.

"Do we have some kind of surgical robe or coverup?" Samantha returned her attention towards Vojona, while Fisher sat up, feet now dangling over the side of the bio-bed. She didn't really want to subject the rest of the crew to his beat up, naked torso. While she certainly didn't mind it. Seeing the disbelieve and confusion, in the Amphibian's dead eyes, however, the blonde figured it was probably an outlandish request to make in the current situation. "It's fine. Don't mind if we take the blanket." Which wasn't exactly a question or proposition. They could replicate another fresh, clean blanket. Standing right before Andrew, she reached both hands around his sunken in torso, pulling up the blanket behind him and over his broad shoulders, closing it together in front of his chest. She could feel his warmth, while at the perihelion of her approach, like a planet drawing closest to its sun. She had almost been tempted to remain there, and maybe for a second, she even had, as the sweet scent of her perfume had dared to invade and linger on his exposed skin. Waiting for him to hold the blanket tight against his chest, the diplomat side-stepped, giving him the space he needed to drop to his feet, guiding him with one hand clasped to his biceps and the other supportive, gentle, against his back.

"Thank you, Ensign." Samantha smiled at the pale blue Amphibian, leading Andrew from the narrow space between the beds, through the busy dealings of the infirmary, out into the quieter hallway. He didn't have any shoes, admittedly, but the whole ship was carpeted and kept impeccably clean. She sometimes even appreciated the feeling of bare feet against the soft fluff, there was something grounding to the sentiment. Surely such notions were not on the forefront of the other officer's mind right now. One of his heavy arms, slung around the back of her neck, the dainty blonde supported the man lightly, with her own arm snuck underneath his and around his back. Careful not to press against his ribs, on the other side. The path to his quarters was not a long one, as would've been the one to hers, they were both located on the same deck as the battle sickbay. So, they did not need to ride a turbolift or anything, just around a few corners, down a few corridors. It took them mere minutes, despite his condition. They didn't really speak the whole way, though at times, it had seemed, as if the attempt had been made, but ultimately aborted.

Arriving at the dark silver doors, Fisher's name on the decal, Samantha let him open the place up, before leading him inside. Feeling instantly engulfed in a sense of familiarity and comfort the blonde had to conceded it was likely only due to the familiar scent in the air. It wasn't even really a strong one, probably her partly Vulcan physiology simply picking it up, yet it seemed the only personal indication towards who was living here, after all. The place looked as if he'd only just moved in. Which was curious, considering the blonde had unpacked all her personal belongings and memorabilia within the first minutes of arriving. Disregarding the slightly sad oddity, she led him on through the archway into the bedroom, which showed the only sign of occupancy, in the form of slightly disarranged sheets and pillows. It was not by any means the embarrassing mess she had figured it to be, at Andrew's objection to having her tag along.

Turning the both of them, back against the foot-end of the bed, the diplomat slowly let her grip ease up from the man's muscular torso, so he could sit down onto the edge of it. Letting her eyes trail once more, with a relaxed sigh towards the relinquished responsibility of his fragile physical state, pale blue orbs soon found her pretty mirror image, distorted in a spider web of cracks. Frowning slightly, she seemed to have found yet another evidence, however, at the still persistent responsibility to his fragile emotional state, which she very much continued to feel. Least now she knew where he'd gotten his bloodied knuckles from. So she could stop looking out for other officers with a black eye in the corridors. "Love what you've done with the place ... shattered and broken. So very you." she replied quietly, the faint vibrations of a chuckle, dancing across her vocal cords. Turning back to look down at Andrew, reaching in height just to her belly, in his sitting stance. There had been a notion on her mind, from the first moment they had met, and it was now easily in reach. She was also done wondering. Moving her right hand from her side, Sam let her slender fingers dive into the front of the man's dense, chestnut hair. Feeling the strong, soft texture against her digits, as she ran her hand slowly across his scalp, all the way to the back of his head.

It felt as good as she had imagined ... better.

  • Last Edit: July 24, 2020, 06:54:29 PM by stardust

  • Swift
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #5
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Battle Sickbay | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

Fisher recognized the appreciative smile in Sam's face as he'd relented under her pressure and accepted her prescription of bedrest. He could see how it had come as a result of relief; relief that he would accede to her concerns for his well-being, and actually take care of himself for once. It was the first time; in a long time, he'd experienced that level of care from someone else. A care that wasn't born out of a place of professionalism, but one that came from a genuine personal interest in him. And if there were any threat that his heart might have turned black, it was gone again. Turned away by a simple yet redeeming emotional response to knowing that he wasn't alone. That he would be missed by at least someone. He wished that he could have frozen the moment in time, and kept it alive forever, as it was something he'd truly deeply wanted in life. It felt good. It felt redeeming. Even if it was a somewhat selfish thing to enjoy, given the troubles that surrounded them. But he just couldn't any longer afford to surrender the forefront of his consciousness to those thoughts focused only on the sorrowful situation aboard Theurgy.

He would instead truly embrace the desire to just enjoy her pleasant company, and the feeling it stirred in him, for however long he possibly could. And as a gentle smile crossed his face, it soon turned somewhat whimsically charming as he discovered just the right words to carry on the lighter tone of their interaction.

"More likely that I'd simply rather not tempt your ire. Politicians know how to hold onto a grudge."

A statement that was certainly true enough, he mused on as he feigned a little anguish in reaction to her 'punishment' at having used the Doctor as an excuse to follow her wishes, rather than just surrendering to her some semblance of a moral victory, or even just acknowledging how much her feelings had grown to mean to him in such a short time.

His viridian eyes soon trailed from her as they fixated on the osteogenic regenerator hugging just beneath his knee, where both his tibia and fibula had been rather cleanly fractured during the explosion. He supposed that the fractures had occurred when the shockwave threw Kaban, his now since deceased Klingon friend, into him with surprising violence. A violence that had also dislodged the bar from where it had been anchored to the decking. The weight of his and all the other patrons' bodies thrown with surprising force into it. The broken leg constituted two of six broken bones he'd sustained, yet as annoying as broken ribs could be, an entirely crippled right leg was obviously a far greater hindrance. Which was why he'd insisted on it being addressed with a priority when Ensign Vojona had begun to treat his wounds. The Ovri had of course insisted on stemming the internal bleeding in his first, and Fisher couldn't exactly refuse him. But only after a modest amount of pressure from Vojona, and a reassurance that there was no immediate dangerous situation unfolding aboard Theurgy, had Fisher relented on his demand to immediately return to duty.

For he'd seriously considered the possibility that the 'Spearhead Lounge' attack was just the opening salvo of a greater effort to destroy Theurgy.

But now, as the little medical tool did its job, he let the tingling sensation of his mending leg mix with Sam's soothing touch and could actually feel himself starting to relax ever so slightly. It puzzled him, that she seemed to be unable to truly let go of him; as though he were magnetic, and she couldn't completely pry her hand away.

Soon though, it appeared that this pleasant moment was meant to end, as she seemed about ready to excuse herself. For Fisher, it felt like someone had shared the shelter of an umbrella in the midst of a torrential downpour, only for them to a moment later pull it away. He would again be left alone, exposed to the coldness of the rains. It was a fate that Fisher was ready to accept, though regretfully so. He knew that this chance to find solitude and respite from the demons that haunted him, was only meant to last for so long, and as such he could hear his voice in his head, screaming; yelling at him to just ask Sam to stay a little while longer. But he couldn't give that internal voice form, he decided. She didn't deserve to bear the burden of caring for such a broken man as he was. And as those old familiar doubts began to creep back into his mind, a strange defensive shield began to settle in as well, and he felt himself grow angry and enraged about it. He hated how he felt about himself. He wasn't some monster. Surely, he was someone, with something to offer her, wasn't he?

Then why couldn't he just say so? Why couldn't he just ask her to stay, just a little while longer?

'Fucking ask her, you unbelievable asshole!' his internal voice railed out at himself.

But he didn't.

Fortunate enough however, he didn't have to, as Nurse Vojona was more than willing to throw the man a life preserver of sorts. The amphibian had clearly picked up on their conversation; the nature and weight of the tension between them evident as though it were spelled out in bright neon. And in what can only be described as an attempt to further heal the crew, he intervened on behalf of them both, making the somewhat unnecessary and entirely fabricated assertion that Fisher needed someone to help him get back to his quarters. Of course, Fisher was in rough condition, but ostensibly not so rough that he truly warranted a guide. In fact, even though the Ovri was certain that the Intelligence Officer would have much preferred being left to his own self, for whatever idiotic reason, he was also certain that Fisher would understand and even eventually appreciate the bridge that Vojona had so hastily put up between the two Commanders. "Excellent!" He beamed with some joy as he plucked the osteogenic regenerator from Fisher's knee, sending a strange twinge up the length of Fisher's right leg.

"Of course. Please. Cover the man up!" Vojona conceded the blanket to them. "Oh... and commander, you will want to take this, and attach it to your back when you later try to sleep. It will speed up the healing of your ribs." The nursed handed the osteogenic regenerator to Fisher, who in turn nodded in understanding.

With that, the amphibian Nurse nodded politely to Rutherford, then left the two to go about their new task together. A slight smile crossing Vojona's face when he turned away, as he felt he'd done just one more good deed on the night.

"You're really going to do this?" Fisher asked seriously as she wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He was trying to talk her out of it, even though he was more than appreciative of the chance to spend a little more time with the beautiful blonde woman, especially as he caught the alluring scent of her; a scent that sparked in his mind, and he blinked visibly as he tried to discern it. But he could also sense that this was quickly turning into another game, and with a mild sigh he scooted off of the bio-bed, landing with his bare feet against the carpeted deck plating. Immediately he felt himself wobble, nearly toppling over as his right leg felt weak in comparison of his left. Maybe he did need a guide, he realized. Forced to relent under her steadying hand pressed against his bicep, he was momentarily grateful to not end up flat on his face, or his ass. "Whoa... alright, not a great start." He admitted, offering a somewhat hesitant laugh as he pivoted on his weaker leg, most definitely needing her support in order to remain upright, though he was hesitant to rely too heavily on her, as he wasn't exactly a small man.

With another sigh, he accepted her lead as she brought him through the sickbay, and eventually out into the corridor. His attention now starting to dawdle on the sensation of her warm soft body against his own firmer one in support. All the while he struggled to escape the temptation caused by that gentle, oh-so-subtle scent that deeply invaded his senses. Soon, that desire he'd felt a few nights earlier began to return to him, filling in the void of his mind as he attempted in vain to clear any thoughts that entertained giving in. An awkward silence persisted between them as they made their way through the ship. Only an occasional groan or grunt breaking it, as he was very slowly starting to regain his balance and coordinated control of his leg. The tools used to repair injuries had certainly evolved, yet the human mind's ability to understand when something had been healed so quickly, hadn't yet caught up with that evolution. Their brains still reacted as though there were a damage, and that doing what he wanted might increase it.

Still, it beat being stuck in an immobilizing cast for weeks, while his body healed of its own volition.

[ Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]

Eventually, the pair of them arrived outside of his quarters, and not a moment too soon as he'd felt his ability to control himself starting to wither away into nothing. He could at least now rest, maybe take a cold shower, and wash away that mounting desire for the time being. It had always amazed him, how in times of crisis, peril, and challenge, those desires for intimacy would present themselves in a way that was just too overpowering to ignore. It was why he was now so appreciative of the fact that his quarters weren't further away from the sickbay on Deck 07; otherwise he might have acted in an overly forward and foolish manner. A manner that would have put their blossoming friendship in danger, and perhaps even ended it on a sour note. For Fisher, no desire was great enough for him to threaten the one personal connection he'd managed to make since coming aboard Theurgy. Especially not when they'd seemingly only just repaired the damage done in the morning, during the Nicander interview.

As she helped him over to his bed, he could already sense her getting ready to tease him, and he began to grin in expectancy.

"Yeah. My interior decorator is cheap, but he really knows how to capture who someone is." He added as he gradually laid back against the bed, careful not to strain or press against the still broken ribs of his back. Gingerly, he hefted his arm up and rested it against the headboard of his bed. "In my case, I think he was going for the mysterious nature of a spy." He grinned to her as he laughed at their combined joking at his expense.

Now that he'd been safely deposited in his quarters, there was a sad realization that quickly came to Fisher though, and soon the expression on his face began to neutralize as a result.

She would leave him now.

As he let his shoulders slump just slightly out of disappointment, he decided he was ready to wish her a good-night. But instead of having to watch her graceful presence withdraw from him, she began to close the distance between them, bringing one of her delicately manicured hands past his face, until it touched his scalp. He held himself steady for her as she ran her fingers through the tufts of his dense head of hair, and as though her hand was electrically charged, he felt a tingling shiver run down his spine from the base of his neck. It was in that moment, that all of the walls collapsed, and with it all of Fisher's reservations and hesitance. His own stronger hand rising up until it gently caressed against her exposed forearm. It was clear that he didn't want her to leave, or for her hand to escape from where it had strayed just an instant earlier. His head tilted upward just enough that he could lock his eyes with her own, and he knew he couldn't fight it anymore. So, without so much as an ounce of care for the pain that it caused, he pushed up off of the bed and stood slowly onto his feet, until he was now standing before her, at a more even level.

Only the ever-constant thrum of a starship broke the absolute silence that dominated the moment between them, and Fisher let his hand trail up Sam's exposed arm until it ran just along the periphery of her glorious neckline. His hand curled slightly as he let his index finger rest against the underside of her sharp chin, beckoning her to look up into his face. Their gaze meeting, he gradually let himself lean forward as he closed the distance between them. He could see the vivid colors of their eyes reflecting in each other until he let his eyelids fall closed, his intent made clear as he sought to finally indulge in a burning desire that had existed in the back of his consciousness ever since that beautiful night they shared together in the 'Below Decks Lounge'. A desire that had only been temporarily cooled by a single chilly droplet of water against the back of his hand. The same hand that now gently guided her to meeting his lips in a tender kiss.
  • Last Edit: July 26, 2020, 04:36:21 AM by Swift
Writer of [ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Chief Intelligence Officer | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]

  • stardust
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #6
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn:

It was always astonishing, really, how the destiny of the galaxy, the fate of the free races, could take a backseat to something far more personal. A glimmer of hope in between the dark shadows of insurmountable odds. A notion of recluse, from the troubles and tribulations, in the cold light of day. The ship was still aching with the ramifications of the day's events. Its crew saddened, disillusioned, hurt ... yet none had thought about giving up for one second. Or at the very least, no one would've voiced the sentiment, given it physical form. They too sought distractions in any place they could. Duty, entertainment, human contact ... they all shared in the same unanimous need for strength and safety. A notion that didn't directly relate to the odds and chances, but rather the dreams and hopes of every single one of them. It was only human, to put aside the imminent threat, as long as it didn't hit you in the face already. To abstract a fear into something that wasn't quite your business, until it was. Like dealing with the victims of the bombing in the spearhead lounge. It was easy to treat them, tend to them, as long as you weren't directly affected ... or someone close to you.

Tonight, it hadn't been just one of these cases. Where a bomb went off, or an away team got ambushed, and Samantha would just follow the reports, the incoming telemetry, with nothing more than a painful memory, prodding at the base of her brain with a stick. When she would adjust her schedule, to deal with the ramifications, that brushed past her like a gust of wind. Touching, but not quite moving her, never resonating down to a deeper, personal level. No, tonight the attack had struck to the very core of what she considered important. It had, as a matter of fact, even only unearthed, what had been important to her for a good while now. Unbeknownst, dormant, somewhere in the more subconscious levels of her mind. And while it had too, triggered memories from a long gone past, their quality was far more personal, and inched closer to the raw core of her soul, like a drill to the root of a tooth. Because that feeling of loss, of potentially loosing someone that meant something to her, was too close for comfort, to a past that only felt like hers in the raw pain that still lined every intimate interaction with someone else, that wasn't him. Every intimate feeling, that wasn't his.

Her body felt uneasy, as the blonde stood there, listening to Andrew's second leg of their joking match. Muscles and nerves trembling with the desire to move in a thousand directions at once, causing her to shift awkwardly in her stance, one hand brushing up and down her naked arm. The smile on her face genuine, but weak and superficial, against the severity of the moment sinking in. Or maybe not the severity, but the weight of it, all the same. She nodded, quietly, at his ultimate reply, the corners of her plump lips still twitching with the slowly dying vigor of amusement, his words had reciprocated. In her mind she had already called the curtain on this chapter of the play between them, this Shakespearean trek across the stars. The quiet of the room, against the subtle humming of the ship, that you could only hear when you really focused on it, potentially stood for a far bigger peril, than the fate of the galaxy. On a personal level at least. And it was what they had escaped to, after all, this level of isolated existence. Mutually ... mostly by her motivation. Yet now, as the guilt and the resentment came forth, motivated by something she had not been able to let go yet completely, that sentiment fought a fierce battle against the fear, of not being able to do, what she wanted to do, and to say, what she wanted to say, before it would be too late. Again.

Running her hand through his thick head of hair, for example had been a small token, of a larger desire, growing in the dark. It felt so soft and strong, like something she wanted to burry herself in, if only for a sentiment, rather than a physical attribute of his. She loved the way she felt around him, when she let herself go. When she cast off the duty, the guardedness, the rules and just remained as a single woman, alone in the middle of this nightmare, expected to keep it all together. First and foremost, by herself. The very fact that she had managed to do so, for seven years, sometimes better, sometimes worse, true to a promise once made, reciprocated a certain sense of remorse, towards this very situation she found herself in now. And to an even bigger extent, had led Drew into. She had seduced the man to partake in her sick need to care for someone as a means of handling her past. Had turned him into a voodoo doll for her unfinished emotional business. But one she could not just put down, all the same. One that seemed to have even developed a motivation of its own.

Feeling his warm hand against her forearm, the thick skin of his palm against her soft exterior, Samantha let her hand drop down to cup his ear, thumb gently and idly tracing the top curve of it. Blue eyes, connecting with his sage coloured ones, as he looked up, forehead in deep pleads, only accentuated more by the low nighttime light setting, she froze for a moment of utter emptiness. But not in a sense of not feeling anything, but in a sense of being isolated from everything else around her, that didn't pertain to the man before her. Not the past, not the future, a moment that simply existed in this very present. She was reminded of something Sarresh had said, about the different time streams, and she wonder if in one of them, she would just give in, and what would happen, if she made this one, the one. Holding on to her forearm, but not for support, Andrew pushed himself off the bed and rose to a stance towering above her slowly. His hands on her arms, moving up as he did, leaving a chilled trail where the heat of his touch dissipated into the cold of space. Until her face was dipped back, only a bit, to facilitate an angle that would meet his, straight on.

And in that moment, all the timelines seemed to converge, with all the opportunities springing into existence with every glimmer of green and beige in his eyes. With every millimeter, that his face closed in, the millions of possibilities drew into focus, occupying the ever-decreasing distance between them, until they were compressed into the smallest possible space ... the critical mass. And from that followed the explosion of light and color, the birth of a new universe, as his lips touched hers. All the new timelines born from this very moment, as the warmth of his flowed into hers. And the weight of this pivotal moment, making her knees weak with anticipation. But she was not going to be just a spectator, in this new universe, she would be a part of shaping it, of living it. Letting her delicate hands slide up over Andrew's ripply skin, the soft hair of his chest and the scragglier one of his beard, the blonde cupped his jaw with both palms softly. And with a slight tug, intensiving the investigative sentiment into a reciprocated one. His facial hair, against her peach, skin felt like soft coral sponge, was the closest approximation of memory to the current situation. She'd never kissed a man with a full-on beard before, no matter how singed. The slight scent of cinder not able to overshadow the man's natural odor and the sheer blissfulness of the lip lock between them, that oozed of the anticipation and passion, built on, since that night in Below Decks. That one potential timeline that now came to fruition in an unspoken agreement between them, that was hopefully not only a romanticized notion of the act, but rather a commitment they had not been able to voice in words, at the fear of betraying their own values and convictions. An admittance of weakness and the need for support, from someone that had, against all odds, become an indispensable part of their lives so very quickly. A notion that surely, would have to hold up the judgment of the cold light of day. Very ... very soon.


  • Swift
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #7
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Battle Sickbay | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

OOC: Soundtrack to this post...

Held suspended in the moment, Fisher felt himself truly and deeply relaxed as he embraced this incredible woman in an expression of his intense desire, and mounting passion for her. And though his eyelids were closed, he could still see her through them. He saw her, in all of her splendidly beautiful majesty. He could see the radiance of her own emotional relief cascading against his, as though two gentle ripples upon a still surface of water were converging in and against one another. It was a moment that by all rights probably shouldn't have even happened. A moment that had seemingly been building between them over such a short time, that spoke to some other worldly connection. He had never been one to ascribe to notions of superstition, fate, or destiny, but in this moment, it truly felt that there was something greater that had played into what they were now exploring together. But there still existed the question; what was this?

Was this more than just a sudden and fleeting romance between two star-crossed lonely souls, or was it something beyond that?

For him, it silenced the world. A world that had grown so very dark. It had been cruel and tormented him. It had deprived him of his father at a young age, but not so young that he didn't register the loss. It was a world that had stolen his brother from him. A world that ended a beautiful love for him in tragedy and horror. It had even obscured the love of his own mother to him. Time and time again, it had even sought to kill him. It was a world that had gone awry with evil, and sinister intentions. A world of shadows and deceit. But it had all now gone away. All of it, in an instant. Gone the very moment that he could feel the reciprocation of his feelings for her, echoing back at him. In her mutual embrace of passion and desire, he had felt so wonderfully isolated from that cruel world. It was as though he had been brought back into the light, and warmth of hope once again. Hope for something better than what he had been mired within for so long. It was a hope that he'd tried so desperately to artificially induce with a mixture of arrogance, defiance, and spite toward that world. It would replace that joyless hope, that had been devoid of any truly positive emotions, and fueled only by negative ones like anger and rage, while somehow having kept him moving forward up until this point.

And in fact, while that defiant hope had carried him this far, it could have maybe even carried him further. But he'd always known, that in the long run, it simply wouldn't be enough for him to finish this personal journey. It had even become apparent, that Theurgy would be the place where his soul died, unable to proceed any further. The events of today even serving as the final blow, that would end his self-induced crusade against the darkness that beckoned at him, waiting to consume him. But just as had he had felt himself slipping, along came this moment. A moment in which he could feel the presence of something new that would carry the weight of his heavy spirit onward. That darkness would be kept at bay by a newfound legitimate hope for the future, in which he could exist as a part of Samantha Rutherford's life. In that hope, his life would take on new meaning and significance. He would find in her, the means to struggle on, and fight to remain who he truly was at heart.

Even if this moment were not to last; if it were nothing more than a brief instant in time, and this was indeed nothing more than a fleeting feeling, that would soon fade into memory; even if this had been a mistake, and they decided to not explore it any further, its restorative effect on him had already been achieved. He could and would go on. Because it meant, for however brief a moment this was, that someone had cared for him in a deeply profound way.

Someone had embraced him, the way he had embraced them.

She had an almost innate ability to see the struggle unfolding inside of him, and a wish to help him through it. As though her gaze could somehow pierce through the exterior veil that everyone else just accepted and ignored. Whatever emotional walls he built up in defense of the fragile state that existed in his mind, posed no real barrier to her as she had begun to peer inside at the real man hidden within. But whereas someone else might have felt threatened, or burdened at the prospect of the discovery, her interest only seemed to intensify with each passing interaction they shared. Her ability to peel apart the layers of surface armor with actions that were so subtle, infiltrating to the core, no doubt leant itself to her prowess as a Diplomat. She would get under your skin, and infect you with a sense of adoration, and trust for her; though Fisher could sense no sinister intent to undermine him in how she had applied this skill with him. No, with him, it felt like it stemmed from a genuine, and honest interest.

And he prayed to whoever would listen, that maybe this wasn't meant to only be a brief moment. But rather, it was to be the beginning of one that lingered and lasted far into a future for the both of them. He begged to share his broken heart, and feel it meld with her own, washing away the ache of past losses he had endured, and that he now had begun to sense hidden in her. With it, he hoped whatever hesitance they had both held onto, born out of fear, would also be washed away, leaving behind only their deeper desire to embrace each other.

Rolling his forehead against hers in an ever so slight attempt to lever apart their lips, Fisher barely managed to stave off that incredible desire; just as he denied the desire for their lips to remain locked together, and an even yet greater, volcanic like need to explore them more passionately. As his heart in his chest beat slightly faster than average, he breathed in deep of her scent, and let it intoxicate him. But as compromised by her as he was, he understood that this was potentially only the next step of their journey in coming together, not necessarily the culmination of that process. He could see the brilliant sunlight on the horizon, it's radiant warmth peaking at him and knew that in time they would soon meet under it, truly and completely joining together in the manner that he so very badly wished for. But he feared that it wasn't meant for tonight. As much as they had been magnetically connected, the sensation of warmth shared by their bodies pressed against one another in the moment of intimacy, he forecast that it would be sometime in the not so distant future, if at all, when they found that next beautiful moment.

As he curled his lips inward, her taste still lingering on them, his momentary restrain slipped from him and he let himself close the distance between their lips once more, gently returning to kiss her again tenderly. A kiss that only lasted this time for the faintest of moments as he soon managed to regain an ounce of his control, nuzzling apart against her forehead again. His eyes opening as he dared not tempt her gaze, instead staring down at the lack of space between them, realizing that his left arm had slipped down to wrap itself around the small of her back. He held her there, and as he let the silence linger onward for just a few seconds, replaying the events in his memory, he exhaled softly, a smile crossing his face instinctively. How he'd wanted to do exactly what he had just done, since that first night, and he had envisioned it in his dreams, his nightmares, and even in his waken state. But the fantasy did not compare even in the slightest to the reality that was.

It was only two kisses, but it felt like so much more, and left him wanting her in the most all-consuming of ways.

"We should probably stop." He said softly, though he couldn't believe the words had somehow found form. They spoke so positively against what he genuinely wanted, and to a point what he needed. But he had already risked enough, just by making the initial decision to kiss her. Clearly, it hadn't been unwarranted, or even unwanted by her, given the way she had reciprocated. A gamble that had paid off. Fisher had experienced his fair share of them that did, and those that didn't. For now, though, it all felt like an emotional victory for the two of them. Any more however, and it might undo all of that. But even as he had expressed what they should do, he couldn't find within him the power to be the one to make it happen. Instead, he could only continue to rest his forehead against her own, breathing in deeply of her scent, the lingering sweetness of her taste on his lips, and his arm still wrapped around her back as he held onto her.

And finally, once again, his eyes looked to reconnect with hers.

"I..." he began, only to stop in his thought when their eyes caught, and he decided right then that he couldn't stop. What they should or shouldn't do, didn't seem to matter much for him. What mattered, was what they were feeling now, and for Fisher, he was feeling as though he had to embrace this moment as it existed before them, because there were no guarantees that another opportunity would ever present itself. Not when the stakes of their mission aboard Theurgy were so high. Not when he'd already nearly been killed just an hour earlier in an explosion. So, rather than fight what he saw as something good, and positive, he let it consume him entirely. "...fuck it..." he exclaimed in relenting exasperation as he pressed his lips back against her own, and kissed her more deeply, letting his passion take over in a far more aggressive way than it previously had. He ran his right hand back along her left arm, bracing against her bare shoulder as his left hand behind the small of her back pulled her ever more firmly against his body, almost possessively so.

How badly he had wanted her.
  • Last Edit: July 26, 2020, 04:36:58 AM by Swift
Writer of [ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Chief Intelligence Officer | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]

  • stardust
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #8
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn:

In diplomacy, as well as life, Samantha had been met with many phrases, that belied their true sentiment. Many words that held a hidden meaning, deep below the genuine ring of vowels and consonants against someone's vocal cords. A meaning that remained obscured, for anyone but those with telepathic abilities, or the sharpest of observational skills. And while the blonde could not positively count herself to the former, she definitely saw a place among the latter, for herself. It was not a sentiment always born from vindictiveness and scheming; some grand ploys actually sprung from the need to protect, or conceal, an ugly truth. A gambit, teetering on the ether of unspoken feelings between them. One that was both incredibly daring to take and, at the same time, a telltale proof of the comfortable sentiment establishing between these two lost souls. A sentiment that acted like fertile soil to the seeds of trust and care, growing like fresh green sprouts, young and dainty, in the crevice between them, as it eroded away into a lush valley.

Two kisses, that had popped like a sparkling sun, exploding through the passing clouds, shooting a golden ray into the gloomy abyss, reaching all the way to that frail little green, in the black soil below. And even as it had been broken, replaced by the verbal attempt of bridging the gap between them, conveying all the sense of reassurance and hope that their physical connection hadn't, the subtle glow of its memory, remained. Like the sun's disk, a mirage against your retina, when you've stared directly into it. She could feel his heartbeat against the palms of her hands, clasped flush to the sides of his strong neck, thumbs brushing over the bear-covered joints of his jaws, that stiffened with every quiet space, and released with every syllable. Low voice, befitting the subtle, investigative sentiment of their kiss, the exploration of their feelings, like a starship, carefully venturing into uncharted territory. Or more in her terms, like two species, trying to bridge that gap of the unknown between them, trying to find the common ground beneath, to make it blossom with the revelation of their mutual feelings.  A lush meadow, they could skip through together, from where this timeline sparked into existence, until its eventual termination.

No reply, to his contest, ever left her plump lips, still sparkling with the residue of their connection. An exhilarating intermingling of scents and tastes, lingering in between them, as pale blue eyes glimmered with the hope of the future as well as the weight of the implications ... and a little bit of the stars, watching over them, through wide open portholes. Feeling the warmth, radiating from his exposed skin on torso and arms, seep through the very fabric of her jumpsuit and muscles, to the core of her soul, the blonde gave contently into the possessive embrace. Dainty hands falling to his muscular chest, in a rush of submission, to the sentiment conveyed by his strong arms, around her body. Squeezing to life a carnal vigor, that had long been dormant, like a narrow-leafed campion seed. And a heat, that slowly started to contest the one that ignited it. Another vowel, broke the silence, causing long lashes to flutter back to life, like a butterfly after a long winter, revealing two blue orbs, like twin planets, full of life and vibrance, gazing up into their sage counterparts and their invisible rings of passion around them.

In this moment, she was his, and his alone, to do and treat as he pleased. A sentiment born from long days of trying to figure out what it was that he wanted. What she wanted him to want. Culminating in a moment born from fear and loss, that placed back into focus the fragility of life and time. If this was the last night on this ship, if another bomb, a bigger and more strategically placed one, went off tomorrow ... the question simply had been: Where would she have wanted to be, what would she have wanted to do? And what difference did it make if their fate was uncertain or if, by some mere stroke of destiny, it wasn't? She wouldn't have wanted him to be alone tonight, in either scenario. No matter what different timelines there existed, flowing by outside the windows like an endless reflection between two mirrors, only different in the most minute details ... she owed it to, if not Andrew himself, then her feelings for him, to create this reality in the best way she could. He didn't deserve to be alone with the daemons, sparked to life by cinder and ash, the screams and the torment of those who were not as lucky. If she could only help one person tonight, who would it be?

Her thoughts did not have to trail far, to find an all too familiar craving, to unravel a lost soul from the tentacles of memories and guilt. Bring it to light and to the pleasures of living, that went beyond the biological automatisms of life. Food, drink, procreation ... there was more to existence than that, even if many things desirable, touched on those very core foundations. An instinctive penchant for happiness, that could break through even the strongest of restraints. As it did in Drew's outburst of profanity, words pushed forth by the power of passion, the submission to wanting, what he wanted. The last molecules of air seemingly pushed from the confines between their bodies, as lips locked once more, met by passionate anticipation on her part, countering his possessive vigor. Slipping her slender arms up between them, with the last inch of liberty fleeting, Samantha wrapped them around his neck, joining his sentiment of dialing up the intimacy, of what had started out 'as testing the waters'. Since the water had turned out fine.

Running her plump lips along his, swiveling her pate from one side to the other, nose tips fighting for the right of way, the blonde initiated the first daring intrusion into the man's territory, by way of letting her delicate tongue tease against his top row of teeth inquisitively, before finding his own to join in the fight. Feeling her inhibitions and doubts wash away, as a warm feeling of safety and comfort replaced it, she realized that he had made the right choice for them, to just give into the ploy laid out by fate. A play, written by destiny, driven along by carnal passion, which had been repressed and shackled by duty, guilt and fear ... the same daemons that had kept their emotions locked away. The same daemons that now burned in the light of mutual hope, that everything they had known and had made themselves belief, up until this point, wasn't a definite state of being. It was like their stories had been reset, this very instance, with every new step, every second onward, becoming a new and exciting prospect. But at the same time, as human sentiment went, it was also slightly spooky, not to know, not being able to rely on a rulebook that had served them so well in the years past.

A sentiment pushed away, just like Samantha did the man, lips glazing over with the frozen sensation of separation, in a sparkle of cool ice. Air sucked in through parted cushion, heightening the sentiment, as lungs tried to regain a semblance of normality in her heaving chest. Brushing her plump lips together, containing whatever warmth and sweet taste was left, the woman brought both her hands to her left armpit, while blue eyes remained focused on the man's handsome, slightly flustered, face. A certain token of affirmation. Holding on to the small latch under her arm, she pulled down the zipper of her jumpsuit bit by bit. Metallic, sage colored fabric, crumpling into luminous pleads, as the tension around her bust eased. The hand on the zipper, following the contour of her body like a painter's brush, skilfully tracing the luscious curves of her body. The bodice of her suit splitting on the side, causing the front and back to fold over themselves, revealing a simple, strapless black bra, shaped to her supple breasts so perfectly, it appeared drawn onto her peach skin. Ultimately, the numbing sound of zipper-hooks unraveling, against the silence between them, came to an end, around the side of her tender hips.

Letting her sculpted pate drop, shadows from the stars casting over her features, as blonde curls cascaded down the side of her face, Samantha watched her right hand delicately trace up the opening of the metallic fabric, past her décolleté and to the bow on her shoulder. Gently pulling it over the slender edge, she let it slide off her arm, and with little effort, followed the whole rest of her jumpsuit, as it crumpled into a sparkling pile around her skinny ankles, covering her white boots entirely. A matching black panty, equally snuck to her physique, revealed in the process, hugged her perfect contours without a single visible plead. Looking back up, noting Andrew's unique look, a warm smile creased her rosy lips, mirroring the comfort, contentment and pride she was feeling right then. That HE empowered her to feel. For what she had learned was, that true happiness was not about making yourself happy, but about drawing happiness from doing so for someone else. Which was, in the end, true for many pleasant feelings. And even though she did not know the man inside out, yet, she felt like he was as happy as she had ever seen him. Why wouldn't he be?

Reaching one arm out, to place her hand on Andrew's strong shoulder, steadying herself, she reached down the other hand to untangle the mess of fabric and undo her shoes, stepping out of them one by one, while not daring to break their eye contact, which had intensified to a passion similar to their last kiss. She didn't have to say anything to convey her intentions and Andrew would potentially still be able to read them like a giant, flashy billboard. Stepping down from her last shoe, losing a few inches in height on the man, the blonde perked to her tiptoes, bridging the gap between them in small, slow steps, angling her hips with every movement, accentuating the curves of her body left and right. Second arm rising to attention, she placed her other hand on his opposite shoulder, slowly pushing him backwards, as she continued to move in. The bed against the back of his knees, he had no other option but to sit back, slightly harshly, as she left him little room to balance, or even catch his senses.

Words were lingering on her tongue, an intent to make her feelings known, how much she wanted to be there for him, with him, in any way metaphysically possible. But none seemed to even remotely convey the same magnitude as the actions unfolding, as if predestined. Keeping her hands clasped to his tense trapezius, while he supported himself slightly back against the mattress and the tangled sheets, the blonde brought up one knee to his side, and then one to the other, before gently lowering herself into his lap, now, finally having restored a semblance of physical superiority, after stepping down from her ankle-boots. Smiling down at Drew, letting her hands trail up the side of his neck and across his ears, slender digits soon drew back into the original sentiment of intimacy. Digging deep into the dense, lush foliage of his scalp, pulling his head back in the gentlest, yet most demanding way possible. Indulging in the moment of submission, as the seconds stretched on, the reflections of the stars sparkling in his green ponds, thin lips slightly parted, she soon realised she was edging herself on more than him, potentially, with this momentary standoff. So, as much as she did him, she more so allowed herself to give into temptation and the prospect of a deeper union, than what they had ever discovered. Lowering her pate with the delayed tenacity of a moon approaching a planet, caught in the man's gravity ever since they met at Below Decks, until contact. At first a gentle nudge, to his scruff lined lips, before long lashes fell to the rosy mounds of her supple cheeks once more, blue eyes hidden away from the reality of him, diving into a sentiment that transcended it, through touch and feel. And connection that didn't need any more to exist, than what was developing between the two of them.

  • Swift
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Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #9
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theugy ] Attn: @stardust

That something so wonderfully pure would manifest itself at the culmination of such a harrowingly bleak day was something of a miraculous mystery. An enigma that betrayed the general tone of one of the more challenging days that these two fractured people had endured, together for some of it, but apart from one another throughout the rest, both figuratively and literally. But somehow, it had in the end brought them here, where they were now joining in a way that seemed so very unlikely just hours before. Minutes even. It was something of an anomaly, and at the same time, it made all the sense in the world. A beaten and nearly broken man that had felt alone in an existence that had repeatedly sought to mangle who he was at heart; he had drifted aloft until later rescued by a woman that could peer through his exterior shell. It was within him, that she had seemingly enkindled an interest in mending him, an interest born of the anguish of past regrets and a need to correct them. But now her interest had begun to morph and evolve into a reciprocated passion and desire that he had developed for her.

In a cosmically profound and beautiful way, they just made sense together.

It all spoke to why something so simple as sharing a gentle kiss could mean so much for someone. How in an instant, the world entire had faded into the background. The Universe, cold and bleak as it was, no longer existed. It had condensed itself down into one small room, aboard a rogue starship travelling throughout the Galaxy on an impossible mission. Everything, and everyone had gone away, save for two souls, now embracing in a moment of passion for one another. The Universe now consisted solely of two people: Samantha Rutherford, and Andrew Fisher. He could only see her, even when his green-eyes were closed. He could feel only her, not the ever-constant tension in his injured back, or the wounds he'd sustained just an hour earlier. This incredible soul that had made the decision to embrace him as he had embraced her, had pulled him from where he had been adrift, and now sheltered him in an almost all-consuming fashion. To anyone else, that sensation of being so suddenly and completely isolated from everyone and everything, might have been a truly horrifying prospect. But for a man like Fisher, who had been cast asunder so often, it felt simply freeing. The weight of worry and concern had been lifted free from his mind. Anxiety of what terrors might come at dawn now faded away, replaced by an immediate anticipation of where this beautifully serene moment might next lead.

It felt like absolute peace.

However, the jubilance of that realization, coming to understand what this moment represented for him, paled in comparison to the jubilance he now experienced at the realization of how unimaginably beautiful Sam truly was. Of course, he'd seen and recognized her loveliness before, in fact you'd have to be blind or jealous to not recognize it. But that was only an appraisal of her outward appearance. It didn't speak to who she was, or how strikingly beautiful she was inside. Now, he was starting to uncover that internal beauty more fully, as though it radiated out from her like a divine aura that intensified the longer you were within its magnitude. There was so much more to her, than just that aesthetically pleasing exterior, and her innate ability to pierce into the depths of a person and pluck away at the strings that made them who they were. There were in fact imperfections that went along with her numerous perfections. Only if you focused on her flawless exterior, would you miss the beauty of the flawed soul harbored within it. Those imperfections: those flaws revealed the character and struggle of who someone really was, and in Sam's case, it only made her even more alluring to him.

An allure that served to drain away the very last of his inhibitions and doubts, driving him to hold onto her with his strong hands in a physical attempt to keep her enjoined with him in this most metaphysical of moments unfolding in his mind.

He sought to preserve his respite from the Universe for as long as it possibly could.

But as carnal desires began to mount between them, he could feel himself slipping back to the harshness of reality. The tender moment was coming to an end, only to give way to one founded on passion, sensuality, and aggressive instinctual need. Yet even though he felt himself returning to said reality, he surprisingly knew no apprehension or fear of it. Why? He wondered, only to understand immediately. It was because she was there. She would keep him safe from that reality in a different way now. A way that stirred within him an enduring arousal that he'd not experienced toward another person in quite some time. There had been occasional flings here and there, he was after all a man with needs that demanded fulfilling. And true enough, the allure of his own handsome features combined with a mysterious nature often made it easy to find temporary companionship in the form of waitresses, barmaids, and anyone else who seemed to fancy a go. But those interactions were all superficial in nature, and held no candle to what this was, or how it felt. In fact, he doubted as to whether or not he'd ever felt as totally consumed by a bodily desire for someone as he did now.

Perhaps only once before.

As their kiss grew in ferocity, he could sense her urge to explore more deeply beyond the periphery of his lips and obliged with the parting of them, tilting his head in an adjustment ever so slightly to one side, allowing his own tongue to meet and mingle with hers in a sensuous ballet of lust. Together they were consciously deciding upon a furthering of this relation, and he knew where it would ultimately lead. A knowledge that only strengthened the intensity of an erotic need for her and fueled his nether region into the beginning stages of readiness. He was losing himself to an absorption of physical sensations that tickled at every one of his five senses; her subtle yet intoxicating scent filling the void of his nostrils as he breathed her in, the taste of her lips and now more pervading his tongue as it wrested with her own, the feeling of her softly warm and supple body against him, the vision of her absolute beauty lingering on in his vision even though his eyelids were closed, and the sounds of her ever hastening breath echoing in his ears as she too felt anticipation and excitement mounting.

For as much as she had been his to possess in this moment, he was now equally as so to her. She now possessed him, and whatever she wanted, or needed from him, he would have been in no condition or want to deny.

A fact that was soon made even clearer as she began to push him away, and he found himself acceding to her apparent will with abject obedience. His fleeting embrace of her left shoulder easing as he also withdrew the hand which had been placed firmly behind her back. His eyelids parting slowly as his viridian orbs finally beheld her lovely form once more; they of course started focused as always on her piercing azure irises that quickened his heart each and every time, they locked onto him. Though he had sought to understand what it was she had in mind upon the breaking their embrace, he also felt an almost irresistible urge to close the distance once more; an urge that he barely managed to contain as his heart fluttered in his chest. Soon his face brightened however, as a somewhat coy grin crossed his face in acknowledgement of how truly magnanimous, he felt she was being with him. But whereas before he might have also sought to understand if whether or not he deserved the gift of this experience, he was now only appreciative and receptive of it.

It was interesting though, how he neither felt the need to voice in words, at least not yet, any of the sentiment being shared by them. If anything, it might have spoiled the wonder of it all, and he knew of no reason to risk that.

Forthwith, he followed her delicate hands as they trailed over to the crook of her underarm, and observed the subtle motion that began to peel away silvery fabric of her outfit; an outfit that hadn't been meant for him when the night began, but was now being unwrapped in order to unveil the gift it hid. A gift he was all too willing to accept and cherish as it was one, he had so entirely wanted now. With rapt attention, and hungry intent evident in his eyes, he embraced the manner in which she teased the curvaceousness of her form. It was a delicate treat that drove him ever onward down the road of sexual desire, accentuated by the disclosure of a strapless black bra that hugged so conformingly to her shape, that Fisher found himself momentarily jealous and even resentful of it. The slight grin on his face starting to neutralize as he began to embrace the more animalistic needs that began to surface within him, and he could only focus, at least in the moment, on taking in the rest of her inconceivably stimulating features as gravity did him a favor and revealed them in full, tugging away the fabric of her jumpsuit.

Instinctively, his gaze slipped down after the garment as it trailed down her body, and he could finally admire her more fully.

Yet, even though she'd exposed more of her body to him, he couldn't escape the necessity of once again focusing on her face, as in a fleeting instant she was caught in the most awe-inspiring of ways, her exquisite loveliness accentuated by the setting in which they were immersed. It was as though he had been gazing into a masterfully crafted portrait, rather than at someone who was in actuality standing before him. She was framed so perfectly against a backdrop of the near emptiness of space, only distant stars and the crimson haze of a gaseous anomaly casting light against her, which bathed the sharp lines of her body with shadows that almost imperceptibly darkened the surface of her peach skin. If he hadn't already been acquiesced to her every will and direction before, he certainly was now as she emerged into his reality from out of the portrait, her body having shimmied free from the fabric that had pooled at her ankles. One of her delicate hands now pressed against his shoulder in an effort to steady herself, as an evident need to further tease him became clear by the manner in which she swayed her bountiful hips in a gentle pace to close the distance between them once more.

He had been so deeply ready to accept her, yet as she pushed just slightly against him, he found himself trapped between her and the hem of the edge of his bed, and after extrapolating her intent from the look in her own hungry face, he let himself gently fall back onto the soft mattress. There was a slight surge of dull ache in the right side of his back that began to emanate, no doubt caused by his ribs that were still tender from having been fractured in the explosion, but he was unwilling to heed them any attention at all. No, not even the very gravest of injuries would have spoiled his desire and ability to enjoy the anticipation of this experience. And as she stood hovering over him for just a second, his eyes trailed up the centerline of her mostly exposed body to reconnect with her gaze as it was cast down at him, the magnitude of her own need and desire lit within it like pale blue beacons.

With strong hands that sought to explore the feel of her body against them, he gently reached out to support the bare sides of her abdomen as she gradually climbed down, her long legs bending on either side of his hips so that she could kneel unto his lap. The proximity of her radiant warmth against him driving him near mad with carnal need, as her scent further pervaded his nostrils. Unable to contain himself, he lowered his own pate and pressed his face forward until it was against her midriff, and he sensuously lapped his tongue against the peach skin just above her naval, before his lips kissed slowly up that centerline. He then fed into her need for dominance as she sought to dictate his actions by the scruff of his thick head of hair, tilting his head back so as to deprive him even further from what he needed, and he stared into her eyes with longing, yet also for the moment, submission. How long that submissiveness lasted was wholly dependent on how long she intended to edge him on, which quickly began to wane as his hands slipped around her slender waist, only to scoop down under the roundness of her flawless rump.

As always though, he could not, and would not dare stray his gaze away from hers, as those addictive blue-eyes remained homed in on his green ones. Slowly, as the avalanche of wanton passion and engrossing lust reached a tipping point within him, Sam finally relented in her own delayed need, perhaps even sensing the ensuing loss of control if she strung him along too far. And just as before, when their lips met in unison, and both their eyes fell closed in a joint desire to relish in the moment, the bleakness of the world went away for Fisher. It had existed only again for the short fleeting while that they were apart in the aftermath of their previous loving embrace, and once again, he found himself so comfortably isolated from anything that could have hurt or harmed him. But unlike previously, when he had wanted to stay and revel in that peaceful sensation, his current lust for Sam would trump it outright, and he willingly hardened himself against it.

No, he sought to revel in abject carnal sensation now.

Soon, his strong hands cupped under in a firm squeeze of her soft flesh, as his face pressed up more forcibly to meet hers while she straddled atop him. He pushed his lips aggressively against her own and felt an insatiable need to part them so that he could once again taste her more deeply. Torqueing the angle of his pate in opposition of hers, he drew back ever so slightly in a preliminary effort to relinquish control back to her, but in actuality his hands began to slip up behind her, fingers tracing teasingly along the softness of her skin until they reached their intended target, and with little effort unclasped the hooks that kept the seemingly painted on black bra attached to her body, tossing it aside with little care as even more of this incredible being was now bared to him; though he still dared not break the loving embrace of their passionate kiss, even to glimpse over her supple breasts. Instead he allowed himself to lay back on his bed, his hands behind her back attempting to gently beckon her into staying with him. Hands which sought to then pull her naked torso flush against his own, and further served to steady her as he hefted his legs up until his feet pressed against the edge of his bed, and he could scoot them up until they were both now resting entirely upon it.

Though there was also an unintended or perhaps intended side-effect of his movements, as it drove his hips grindingly up against hers, momentarily initiating contact, albeit clothed contact between their two penultimate areas of pleasure. Of which his had now begun to noticeably press up against the ever-tightening dark denim fabric of his jeans, a little unpleasantly so. And as a subtle groan escaped him as his lips wrestled free from hers, he began to struggle to gain the angle so as to kiss along the underside of her sharp jaw, feeling an inescapably primal urge to explore a neckline that had been begging him for discovery since he first laid green-eyes on it. A neckline that wafted more heavily of the heavenly scent that she wore, and that had been serving to drown his senses in an all-enveloping need for more.

"Sam..." her name escaped his voice as an almost pleasured sigh, his breath raggedly brushing ever so softly against her ear as he began to leave a trail of soft kisses down the left side of her neck.

While simultaneously, he traced a finger down the center of her back until it found the waistline of her black panties, following it until he began to hook that same finger between the tight elastic fabric and the soft flesh of her left waist where it had been clung to, hesitating in anticipation of his intent to push it down her body.
Writer of [ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Chief Intelligence Officer | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]

  • stardust
  • [*][*][*][*]
  • Mistress of the balancing word
Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #10
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Swift

Being guided into Andrew's lap, his strong hands on either side of her narrow waist, with the gentleness of an evening breeze and the confidence of a hurricane, Samantha allowed for not only the force of artificial gravity, but also the moment and the sentiment it existed in, to lower her down into the soft embrace of his midst. A place she so wholesomely felt comfortable in, that went beyond the sheer sensation of his muscular thighs and lower abs, supporting her slender frame. A mixture of various scents, ranging from antiseptics to singed hair and the natural musk of his body, exposed to heat and exhaustion, creating an almost intoxicating haze, that paired all too well with the alluring warmth of the moment between them, dipping their senses and conceptions into a trance like state, that turned action and intent, into a one-way street of desire and passion. His tender ministrations, of moist tongue against peach skin, as he explored the center line of her curved torso, before giving wholly into her need to direct his attention towards her more needful areas, at the moment.

Slender digits, so comfortably intertwined with the healthy thicket of his beautiful hair, hovering for the most strenuous of moments, taking all her strength to draw that bow with tension, increasing the ultimate payoff ten-fold, the blonde ultimately collapsed against his inviting lips with the pent up passion of flood gates, holding back desire, finally opening. Disgorging the life-giving ether upon that fertile valley between them, which had lied dormant for the longest of time, waiting for the promise of rain, now to be flooded with potentially more than what was necessary, to light the spark, that would turn bleak brown soil into a lush, flowering meadow. Snaking from the possessive grip of hers, Andrew brought forth his own vigour and passion, perking up against her kisses with the unearthed sap of a plant seedling, breaking through to the light above. His forceful tongue, like a strong wine, snaking around each trellis it could find, for the promise of support and stability, like the grander sentiment at play between them. A longing for a steadiness that could transcend the turbulent waters unleashed by their passion and the grander reality they so skillfully excused themselves from, in this moment.

Casual fingertips, trailing up either side of the valley, her spine drew against the subtle curve of her back, an electrifying chill preceded their very motion onwards. Causing a pleasurable shiver, dainty as jasmine, that reverberated throughout her slender body, against his muscular frame. A silent herald of her growing excitement, in light of his investigative pursuits. Feeling his fingertips reach their intended target, homing in by mere touch, rather than visuals, a pleasant smile tugged at the corners of the blonde's plump lips. Hidden to their closed eyes, incepted by an effort to touch on the invisible sensations between them, much like the subtle tensioning along the longitudinal extends of her rosy cushions, as they stretched in the faint smile. And with little effort, her petite ribcage extended in the freeing sentiment of elastic fabric, being pulled from between them, a deep breath filing its cavities while exposed mounds stiffened to the momentary sense of chill, before comfortably settling against the heat of his chest muscles, for a revenant sensation of warmth.

Giving into the possessive embrace of his strong arms around her back, not an inkling of restraint to his notions from injuries sustained just recently, and a long time ago, all the same, Samantha affectionately gave into the notion of tipping over with him, until the man lay helplessly beneath her, though still spirited enough to make his desires known vividly. Blonde curls falling to either side of her pretty face, as the lip-lock broke for a moment of moist chills, the diplomat shook her fragrant tresses back over one side, before lowering her pate back into the tantalizing vicinity of his handsome face. Faint light now able to penetrate the ever-decreasing space between them, like the ethereal glow of church windows into the bowels of faith and belief. The nonexistent space between their torsos growing increasingly tempered, with the lingering humidity on their blood-flushed skins. A gentle, yet decisive push, against her hips, from his strong and agile midst, reverberating a subtle and joyful moan from temporarily rogue lips, that sought their counterpart out in the dark, to reconnect in a sentiment of predestined unison.

A distinct urging, behind the gesture, of pushing them further onto the bed, but more precisely, transcendent in a sense of pressure building between the protrusions of his pelvic bones, albeit with similar tension and virility. An exciting token of his echoing pleasure, building between them just as figuratively, as poetically. As he thus pushed her forward, breaking their luscious bond of mutual exploration, his Spanish galleons took on a more daring route, to find the promised land. Trailing down the sharp coastline of her jaw, to the shallow depth of her collar bones, all while the azure blue ponds of her irises remained a faint memory, behind closed lids and shuttered lashes. Culminating in a landfall against her earlobe, with the exasperated promise of a bright future, in the alluring moniker of her name, uttered like a mere whisper, across the ocean breeze. A 'welcome home', to these new and exciting horizons. This new world they could build and shape together, if they wanted to settle here.

Bringing one hand back to the pleasurable density of his thick hair, the blonde kissed the fragrant tresses where her plump lips could reach, while not daring to devoid Andrew of an inch of skin to explore, with his tender providence. Feeling a tuck on the last remaining, barely there, fabric around her luscious hips, the blond ground her pelvis into the notion, adding more pressure to the man's own growing sensation, in the process, as the fabric too, tightened for him, with the excitement between them. Aiding the quest of relief, guiding his hand down her thigh as far as it reached, with the black elastic to follow, she merely supported herself with the other arm feebly, rather giving into the gravity induced proximity against his hulking frame. Ultimately rolling her hips onto the mattress beside his, body twisted in a skillful curve so her neck remained within his tender caressing's range of influence, the woman temporarily rested her head into the palm of her hand, while the other pulled the panties over her slender legs in a nimble motion, that mirrored the sentiment of a contortionist, in its swift execution.

Revealing a supple valley, leading into a narrow strip of faint foliage, the shadows of their body's proximity, soon delved the area back into auspicious mystery, as her upper leg bent and moved into the space between his, her midst hugging the side of his thigh, with warm anticipation. Descending her plump lips down upon him in the meantime, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, Samantha cuddled up to his side ever so slightly, while her free hand now explored the contours of his torso, laying bare in the glimmering starlight beside her. His skin, where not covered by the alluring shade of body hair, glistening with the erotic anticipation of his growing desire. Trailing down the hollow between his chest muscles, which transcended between the smaller, subtler mounds of his trim abdomen, the sensible tips of her fingers recorded the gentle increase of thickness within the hairs, as they proceeded down the trail leading from his cute little navel, until they reached the erect wall of his still persistent pants. Placing a kiss on the man's sage colored eyes, where eyelids closed in anticipation, she intended to convey a sense of trust and relinquished duty. Where she wanted him to float away in the sensation, she created for him, by the feel, the touch, the smell and the sound, of her gentle palpitations against his body.

Investigatively slipping her fingertips into the waistband of his pants, exploring the warm depth of the area beyond, the blonde did not dare to venture into the unknown too far. Simply taking into account his added discomfort, had she continued her ministrations that way. Sometimes it could be an added gratification, but she had also felt herself, just then, that liberation was a far more powerful motivator between them. One he seemed to want to indulge in just the same. Thus, letting her fingertips leave the tight confines, they soon found their way to relief some of the tension, bounding his male virility against his midst. Snaking the arm that held her head by his side, around Drew's thick head of hair, a delicate hand came up the other side and descended gracefully across his eyes, as his head came to rest in the crook of her limb comfortably. Unbeknownst to the man, biting her bottom lip, blue eyes trailed down the extend of his graceful physique, to where her other hand was working the tightly strung button, to relief it from the small hole it was pushed through, much like she intended to relief him in a far grander scheme, from the looks of it.

With a cathartic thud, the fly sprung open, splitting a good inch across his waistline, revealing a further extension of his lush abs, as it trailed into a slowly revealing darkness, while the zipper gave way. The now added liberty, creasing the front of his pants with tension, radiating outward from a central mound like volcanic canyons, Samantha ventured to explore the heat beneath the cone, the magma chamber of his growing desires. The root of a sturdy trunk of flesh, slowly becoming visible in the shadows, as it pushed and pulsated for dominance, against the fabric that now gave way for further growth and power, she aided its pursuits with a simple gesture, of hooking her index finger into the luscious heat beneath, pulling ever so slightly, not to exude dominance too much, letting it fight its own way out, until in one fell swoop, the pressure that built erupted in the full extension, falling flush against his lower abs, reaching the all way to his navel. What a glorious sight to behold, she thought, a piece of art in its own right. As natures penchant for perfectionism had found its masterpiece in Andrew Fisher's junk.

As small chuckle, that betrayed the nature of her desire towards the revelation. Yet adding a sense of levity to it all, that had become the cornerstone of their mutual reality. Drawing her arm around his head tighter, patting the hand over his eyes gently, the blond pulled in for another kiss to his cheek. "Sorry ... sorry." she breathed quietly. Validating his potential worries over her bemusement. Letting her other hand, fingertips specifically, trail up and down the newly revealed part of his physique, for pleasurable reassurance. The hot skin beneath hers, feeling the palpitations of a heart that beat for her, in that moment, it felt like. A sensation that magnified her desire. A desire that pulled her back onto him, flush like one part of a magnetic system that could not be apart too long. Her exposed midst pinning down his still growing virility between them, as she came to rest on her elbows again, framing his face. Looking down into his sage colored ponds, breaking from obscurity once more with their black focal point dilating ever so slightly, she took a swan dive into the sensation of the revelation, a long fall into the ever growing green and beige swirl towards the blackness, that threatened to swallow her hole. A small smile, the only sense of salvation, like an anchor in the here and now, to ground her against their physical form. Keeping her spirit from forever getting lost in Andrew Fisher's soul.

  • Swift
  • [*][*][*][*]
  • Trek Enthusiast
Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #11
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theugy ] Attn: @stardust

Together they'd been steeped in the dim ambient glow provided by a mixture of the artificial lighting attached to the bulkhead, and the myriad of a deep crimson haze that lingered just beyond the transparent aluminum of the viewport. It only served to accentuate the sheer unparalleled goddess like vivaciousness of her utterly and completely flawless form, while also revealing more slightly the subtle adonis-esque features of his own.

They'd allowed each other's senses to be so utterly pervaded by everything about one another that made their bodies stir with ever-increasing animalistic needs. Their heartbeats had hastened within each of their respective chests at the passing of every delicate sensation or touch that emanated at the behest of their mutual want for exploration. Their breathing had grown ragged in anticipation of what each fleeting moment might have next led to, consisting of their individual and yet also combined scents that had further served to infect the both of them with pure unrepentant wanton urge. The mixed flavor of taste that had lingered on their tongues served to intensify an addiction held within and for one another. And as their pallets had been so thoroughly been bathed in the differing seasonings offered by the myriad of physical attributes they'd thus far tasted of their opposite, it had become clear how some of them were entirely distinguishable from one to the other, and yet not at the same time. This was all just a beginning to what was clearly to be a sometimes carefully choreographed ballet in the sharing of a passionate moment, while also at times an entirely disjointed and playfully contentious affair that was aimed at fulfilling their individual and combined needs.

Within Fisher, the bounding of his heart had seemed to be approaching a steady pace, as if it had been a tribalistic drumbeat meant to serve as the foundation of what would soon be a long yet entirely necessary and welcomed indulgence of flesh. A drumbeat that would eventually reach an absolute fervent crescendo, giving way to a wave of pleasurable fueled hunger. An ever-mounting instinct fueled hunger. A hunger for more of her. A hunger for more of her soft flesh, and the accompanying pleasure its touch triggered within him. Yet the manner in which she had seemed to possessively cling to his thick head of chestnut hair, spoke to the mutual hunger they'd share in, and also served the dual purposes of temporarily subduing the immediate need he'd felt to give into it, while yet also eventually driving him into a rabid state as it continued to mount. Most importantly, that hunger they were both feeling would ensure that whatever inhibitions had existed before as part of their friendship, had been abandoned, and would remain so.

It had soon dawned on him how incredibly and completely under her realm of influence he could fall, whenever she'd grasped firmly of his mane. Like a stallion that had acceded to the directions of its masterful rider. Each time she'd done it, he'd felt his own will to maintain a sense of dominance over her compromised, as it triggered within him a recognition of her means of expressing her own aggressive sexual tendencies, which in actuality was an expression that he had so very badly wanted to feel reciprocated. But again, this was meant to be a duel of desires, as he had started to understand that neither of them would likely entirely accede absolute control to the other, at least not for very long. Their need to explore each other; to bring unparalleled levels of pleasure to each other would drive them into ironically selfish displays of selflessness. For his part, Fisher had been adamantly determined to win that duel. Even if along the way he would relinquish to her some of that need to dominate and dictate, he'd still known that in the end, his own selflessness would win out due to his utter sheer stubborn nature. That is, unless she had been equally as stubborn. In which case, they would end up pushing each other to the brink of total exhaustion and beyond.

It was another sudden realization that seemed surprisingly possible, given what he'd started to understand of her, and it was every bit as terrifying as it was alluring.

Who would surrender to their 'duty' first, he'd wondered.

A wonder that had soon given ground to an abstract image which had begun to appear within the background of his subconsciousness. An image of a night sky cast over a lone island adrift in a midnight black ocean. It was an image that had often haunted his dreams, as it served a metaphor for his place in life. The island was that unto which spies like him would section themselves off upon. Isolating themselves from the world so that they could stare out at it, without fear of being discovered or interfered with. Waves of an ocean of uncertainty often crashing against it shores, seeking to erode it away and claiming the last lingering vestiges of that spy's humanity. Storm clouds would often rage nearby in the distance, threatening menacingly to home in on it. However, tonight that island had been bathed in a brilliantly golden aurora, exquisitely enhanced by a pair of equally as brilliant blue moons that had cast a warming haze over its now calm shoreline. And instead of feeling the need to seek shelter from clouds that sought to stir up those uncertain waves, he'd found himself drawn away from the island's interior, and a need to lay out beneath that beautiful sky, basking in its radiance as he'd felt at peace with himself and who he was.

It was a most visceral of images that had somehow extended beyond his subconsciousness, having manifested itself into reality in the form of her golden locks of hair which had cascaded down along the periphery of his face when their lips had been enjoined in an embrace of the deepest and most profound kind.

Eventually though, those lips had wandered away, as he had given into an insatiable desire to explore the elegance of her flawlessly sculpted neckline,

Then came the reaction that had escaped her at the behest of his loins which had momentarily found their match with her own, and however subtle and instantaneous that reaction had been, it had reverberated throughout his mind like the utmost call to action. It had invigorated the flow of testosterone and adrenaline into new high-levels within him and threw him wildly over the edge of carnal need. If his already immense desires had taken animal form, they would have been that of a most modest predator in comparison to the rabid grizzly bear they had then suddenly been transformed into. A great beast that had suddenly surged emergingly from hibernation, as though it had caught the scent of prey that demanded devouring. In his case, that prey was an imagination of the other pleasured noises that Sam might soon enough be making as part of her reaction to his efforts to please her. Noises that he'd longed to hear echoing throughout his consciousness, which would signal the prowess with which he performed as her lover. It had confirmed that all-too masculine need to pleasure a feminine mate in every important and possible way, as if existence itself was owed to that process. Though, of course it was. But modern sensibilities had often tried to disarm that naturally occurring aggression in men, and more often than not such sensibilities were lost to the wind as instinct and hormones took over in them, just as it had for Andrew Fisher.

Instincts that had continued to take hold as she'd rolled off of him to make complete his burgeoning desire to rid her of the last vestiges of fabric that had obscured any part of her immaculately flawless form, his own body rolling ever so slightly to maintain the angle necessary for his lips to hold their course of attack along the edges of her jaw, neck, and collar. They were of course to be just the first coordinates of an extended campaign that he was determined to wage across the entirety of her body, that would eventually culminate somewhere far more intensely pleasurable for her, and sensually rewarding for him. Though as he felt the motions of her body signaled by a shifting of the mattress, his sage-eyes, full of sexual intoxication had trailed down over her fully revealed body, demanding him to explore a new frontier as a pioneer might new fertile lands. And as his green-eyes had slipped down along the centerline of her body, past twin supple hills, beyond her soft abdominal plains, over the delectable well that was her naval screaming at him to indulge in, they had finally settled on the valley nestled between her articulate thighs, and he'd known immediately where he would soon energetically stake territorial claim and deeply plant his flag.

There had then come a tenderly soft and reassuring kiss of his forehead, and he'd failed in any attempt to restrain his own need to extend an appreciative kiss against her throat, where beneath just a few millimeters of peach skin and flesh the vestiges of her alluringly sultry voice had originated. A voice that for the most part had been surprisingly quiet thus far, though admittedly they had both been so devoted to the relative peaceful sensation of silence lingering between them. Hers was a voice however, that he'd then felt an unyielding urge to hear desperately and exasperatingly calling out his name in the throws of absolute abject pleasure. There was simply no way he'd live beyond the night if such an occurrence had failed to manifest itself, therefore he'd known there would be no other means of proceeding onward, until it had, and he was supremely confident in his ability to make such things happen this night.

A night he'd known he wouldn't forget, and one he was far more determined to ensure she wouldn't either.

Yet just as he'd felt ready to give into the burning inferno of need within him, an intense need to assail her with the utmost attention and devotion, she'd seemed to harken him to a state of relaxation. And so that inferno in him happened upon a firebreak that had been rather hastily prepared, but would serve to keep him at bay for a time; just enough time at least for her to assume the responsibility of stewarding the moment for the both of them. So, as her alluringly plump lips had descended on his eyes, he indeed let them fall closed as he gave into a reveling of the adoration they conveyed. He'd felt a resignation within; however, it hadn't been one of a negative or receding notion, but rather meant to exemplify a sense of trust for her. It went against his nature to drop that sense of duty, even in the throes of intimacy, but he did as she so wanted and let himself truly, deeply relax into her care. A care that had soon sent intense sensations of electricity throughout his body, causing his skin to recoil as a chill of goosebumps set in, stiffening the burgundy peaks that adorned his exposed muscular pectorals, as she'd delicately traced her fingertips down along his athletically firm abdomen on a mission of sorts.

A mission that relentlessly stirred that which was still obscured by the dark gray denim of his jeans, and which functionally made him a man.

And where it had once been a gradually strengthening extension of his carnal wants and needs, it had then hastily surged with full unrepentant vigor and vitality that bespoke of how utterly lost he was with this moment as it unfolded. The pain of whatever injuries that had been wreaked upon him earlier in the night, had paled in comparison to the intense sensation of his throbbing manhood locked away beneath the tight confines of his gray denim jeans. And with each subsequent subconsciously triggered pulsating of his loins, the desire to be freed only further confounded within him. It was a freedom that had been too long denied to a part of him that truly hadn't deserved such neglect and punishment, though soon enough there would come the relief of parole, as Sam's fingertips had begun to explore the walls of this fabric prison, clearly intent on springing that which had kept at bay beneath it, though not before she'd again teased him rather cruelly in an attempt to further deny and increase the anticipation of the moment. With each millimeter of that touch that had passed, he'd felt the anticipation continue to somehow mount. It had further tempted that hungry inferno within him that had only momentarily been tamed by her. An inevitable inferno that would spread, regardless of how vigilant she had been in her efforts to control it. Though, he'd still remained acquiescent to her ministrations as she'd proceeded, however excruciatingly deliberate as they had been.

Soon, there had come a sudden rush of cool air that had pervaded against his nether as she'd slipped an investigative finger into his waistband, and he'd thought for a moment he might finally be freed from that purgatory, only for her to yet again have delayed if even for a moment, so that she could slip an arm under his head in an almost cradling fashion. Her fingers did eventually seem truly destined this to break away that prison that had somehow still clung to his lower half. A prison that was eased of the tension that felt too snug against him, and unconsciously he had let his pelvic muscles tense against that sudden freedom, nearly having broken himself free in the process. A process that had been completed not long after, as she still had one final beckoning on her part to make; and as he'd felt her touch against the underside of his achingly solid flesh, helping it to escape from the confines of his opened jeans, it had bounded heavily back onto his abdomen.

The sensation of freedom had been immense, as cooler air had sought to cling against his heavy flesh implement. Though in comparison to the gratifying if only brief touch of the woman he so desired, it had been woefully insufficient.

Now, as he raised an eyebrow at the sound of her chuckle, Fisher couldn't help but respond in kind, his own soft chortle escaping from him as his head rested against the back of her arm. The absurdity of the moment hadn't been lost on him, and of course, he wasn't the least concerned about how he faired in terms of relative size. He was more than confident that he'd measured up, and in fact beyond what was considered normal. And so, he was confident that her snicker was one of a pleasant revelation, rather than one of taunting disappointment. Still, as he was one to do, he made mental note of the slight faux pas, and was intent on making his new playful companion pay for the silly transgression, as a devious plan began to form in his mind.

Though, that formulation of plans soon came to an abrupt halt as waves of tender pleasure surged through him at the charge of her reassuring palpitation that ran the length of his exposed self. Waves of pleasure that quintupled as she climbed back atop him, her face hovering above his as he felt his throbbing piece pinned between her midst and his abdomen, once again imprisoned, though in a far more pleasant way. Sensing her desire to gaze into his soul again, his sage-eyes opened and sought to meet hers of azure, as a deliberatively sweet and tender moment was shared between them. He could see that she seemed to weigh the scope of what was happening, and Fisher rather gently and seemingly idly trailed a fingertip of his own down along the side of her body. A simple appreciative smile crossing the scope of his face as he let this absence of activity linger on for just a little while longer. Until finally, that inferno in him that had earlier been held back, found a means to spread once more. A spark here. A stray ember there. They fell upon an unburned fertile forest, bypassing her best efforts at containing it.

Her best efforts at controlling him giving way as soon as she had given even a moment's opportunity for him to regain the upper hand. An opportunity that he was all too ready and happy to seize upon, as that trailing touch hadn't been one of idleness, but rather a stealth ploy aimed at lulling her into that moment of vulnerability. Because what happened next, came with no advanced warning as he pushed himself up off of his back, ignoring the ache in his body, and with a playful growl he shoved her over onto her back, climbing atop of her as his broadly curved lips sought to assail her own. His body hovering over her now, his left knee planted firmly between her parted thighs against the base of her pleasure mound, and he pressed forward so as to apply a stimulating pressure against it while his throbbing self was hung low, resting heavily against her left hip. His tongue lanced through her lips aggressively, and with one hand supporting himself, the other reached behind himself to tug at and pull away his jeans. His weight shifting from one knee to the other until the denim garment could be thoroughly removed, and then tossed away.

That hand soon returned to finally explore her body, finding and cupping against her supple left breast as he bit sensuously on her lower lip before planting another series of tongue-filled kisses against the underside of her jaw, beckoning her to roll her pate over and accede the angle needed for him to resume adoration of what was evidently his favorite part of her, at least for the moment; her enchantingly glamorous neck. Yet, as he adored her, the hand that sought to enjoy the soft feel of her body trailed down over her form until it turned and slipped down that wonderful valley nestled between her parted thighs. Easing back his knee from the pressure it had applied, a tenuous fingertip soon replaced it as he touched along her outer soft folds and traced along them in search of his intended target, until he just barely felt the super-sensitive nub of her clitoris. And as he sought to stimulate waves of maddening pleasure into the depths of her magnificent body, his possessive kiss returned from her neck to once again claim ownership of her lips, as he was keen on observing the pleasure displayed in her reaction.

Though that observation only lasted for a faint moment as due to begin was the next phase of his plan to 'punish' her for having had the temerity to chuckle in reaction of the revelation of his manhood. However, amusing it may have been. And so, after extending to her a reassuring kiss, similar in tone to the one she had offered him earlier, only at the tip of her nose rather than her forehead; the attention of his assailing kisses then left her beautiful face and began to wander in another direction. He'd already felt familiar with her jaw and neck, having devoted a great deal of time, and focus to it; as though someone had been vacationing at the same destination year after year, simply because they loved it so much. But they would eventually, just as he would now, venture into previously unexplored territory, as his lapping kisses found her right shoulder, then halfway to the next target, before settling on and enveloping the pert pink peak of her left breast, momentarily drawing succulently upon it before tearing himself away, and showing similar attention to it's twin on the opposite side of her body.

All the while, his finger still at her clitoris began to ever so slightly work against it in a circular motion, applying just enough pressure that the near microscopic ridges of his fingerprint could rub against the sensitive little protuberance of flesh in just the right way.

His own intent growing more clear with each subsequent tongue laden kiss that continued to delve deeper down the length of her exposed midriff, until he was forced to shuffle himself down a little from where he'd been perched over her, his heavy manhood dragging down along the length of her left leg as he soon lapped lovingly against her naval, determined to sometime return and enjoy that lovely aspect of her. Though for now, he afforded it just one, perhaps two adoring signs of affection, before he resumed his course further south. His hunched over back soon began to strain a little achingly so as he was nearing where the boundary of the slope that led down between her thighs began, a pervading scent of her nether wafting into his nostrils like a drug, as his finger left where it had been toying with her. With another scoot back, his knees left the edge of the bed, finding the carpeted flooring just beyond it as he knelt to accommodate a better angle of attack, while both of his strong hands ran up and under her thighs, draping her knees on either side of his face as he grappled onto her hips aggressively and somewhat playfully dragging her body closer to him along the surface of the soft bed.

In a position that was more conducive to him, and after affording her a teasing smile, his lips pressed against the interior of her right thigh, the scruff of his beard tickling against the sensitive peach skin as his green-eyes closed shut in advance of a need to truly savor the next taste that would be afforded him. As next his lips left her thigh, and met ever so gently with her soft folds, his tongue tenderly slipping between them as he arrived at one of the destinations, he was intent on visiting this night. The first of what was sure to be many, and the first that he would offer great attention, vigor, and care of in his attempt to drive this woman, the woman literally of his dreams, wild with pleasure and passion.

And so, he let that vigor fuel the motions of his lips, and tongue as he began to play against her with adoring care.
Writer of [ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Chief Intelligence Officer | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]

  • stardust
  • [*][*][*][*]
  • Mistress of the balancing word
Re: CH02: S [D01|2202] ... Once it's Gone
Reply #12
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Swift

Depriving Andrew of all his primary sensory functions, Samantha could feel his reluctance to submit control entirely, permeate from his tense muscles, aching with the restraint of a man, that had not been used to submerge himself into this level of trust. So, it was as much gratifying to her, as it would turn out to be for him, as her gentle fingertips explored his body, like the ancient settlers of the new world. Crossing over the supple hills and lush forests into the meadow of the life-giving ancestral tree. A hereditary pendant, handed down his family line by genealogy. What a beautiful totem to mythologize, as her fingers danced a fertility ritual around it, summoning the spirits of his growing passion, to flow into the magic, that let it grow and stiffen, until it fell against the unrelenting strength of his abs like timber. Letting the shamans and wizards dance across it in a tantalizing mingle, tingling the delicate skin of his heated flesh, moving up and down the conquered trunk. As it lay submissively against him, though, still occasionally pulsating with the firing of neurones in response to the gentle ministrations, the spirits clearly weren't entirely exorcised yet.

As a matter of fact, feeling the tension that her delicate fingertips could readily convey, spread throughout his entire body like wildfire, the blonde soon found herself trying to contain a pleasure, that she wasn't even all that willing to restraint. A display of biological functions, chemical reactions and primal desires, still paired with a notion of the more advanced human sentiments, that all the other notions tried to overrule, yet all channeling into the virility and passion that made him a red-blooded god amongst men. Letting her hand on his eyes ease ever so lightly, like the blindfold on a ferocious eagle, instincts quickly sprung back to life and invigorated his body with the carnal instincts of millions of years of evolution, geared towards one of the most primordial desires there was. Sage coloured eyes sprung from their lash-framed confines with a rejuvenated glow, fixed on hers in a sense of determination, that instantly sent chills down the blonde's spine. Followed by a swift move of his hulking frame, that she hadn't deemed possibly in his state, his skin radiated with the heat and vigour of his determination, above the aches and palpitations of his injuries. Adrenalin surely numbing his every bodily ailment.

As Drew's strong thigh pushed in between hers, parting them in a demanding way that conveyed the sense of constrained passion, that had been bound, but now unleashed, the sentiment still beheld a sense of delayed approach, while his hands yet sought to investigate her bare physique in more modest areas. A distinct breath was pushed out of her lungs, as her midst was constraint so possessively, as the air reverberated against her vocal cords, to convey the faintest of raspy moans. Like a warm summer breeze, whistling through a flesh coloured sandstone canyon. Plump lips, however, were soon sealed, with the moist passion of scruff lined cushions, that advanced across hers with the same restrained strength that made her body shiver in other areas, just the same. His strong tongue, infusing a sentiment of what he could do with it, if he ever chose to replace his thigh with it. A demonstration of his grander ploy, in the most invigorating of displays, as her own tongue gladly submitted to the powerful adversary. The tides had shifted fully, as the moon across their contending coastlines, had ascended to full perigee. The fact that he too discarded the last sense of foreign pastures between them, had fallen completely by the wayside of her minds worshipping dance around his ministrations. Her nervous system redirecting all the sparks and electrical discharges to the very spots his hot skin met hers, generating bright centres of sensation across the map of her flawless skin, like sparkling cities in the night. Embracing one of her supple mounds with his sizeable grip, squeezing the flesh ever so lightly, with the rosy castle at its top, its spire erected into the chilled air of the dying day. A kingdom, surrounded by the armies of his virility, bracing itself for whatever attack would soon follow, in this most epic siege. All the while, his erogenous lips with their sensual scruff, that exhilarated every cell of her dermis, alerted every faint hair to stand in attention, as the fleeting chill slowly dissipated with the memory of being blessed by his tender touch.

Letting her delicate pate fall to the side, to accede his wishes, wasn't as much a submission by free will as it was a relinquishment of power, while gravity drew her limbs heavy to the sheets beneath, heating with the radiation of their passion. The delicate golden chain of her necklace, slipping across the sharp line of her clavicle like a glimmering snake, finding its way across the lush jungle floor, as the Vulcan sign for infinity settled into the hollow, where her collar bones met. Competing in sparkle against the diamond speckles on her skin. Sooner than later, the aerial campaign found the mound with the fortress, guarding this particularly supple land, and as he descended upon it, the feared attack had turned into a gentle peace offering, for their kingdoms to unite in a mutual sense of admission, in the glorious light of his offerings. News of the grand new union, sent from the castle into the rest of the realm, via sparks traveling the length of her nerve fibers, to the heavenly space of bliss and passion, that had sat up residence in the center of her mind.

There was no sense of contention, as he sought the same accord with the neighbouring kingdom, uniting the whole of them in a mutual sense of admiration and longing, for the return of their new king. But while he had unified the realms of the north, his conquering nature was no yet quenched, as he sat his eyes on the lush valleys of the south, and the mysterious temple, rumoured to lie within them. Sending his five most trusted knights as the vanguard to his conquest, the man's thigh soon made space, letting a gust of chilled air tingle her soft folds temporarily, before the crusaders arrived, claiming the temple gates in a fiery battle. Investigating the perimeter on mere touch, in search for the tender mechanism that would be the key to their salvation. The culmination of their efforts, as their ringleader started the ritual to draw the golden spark out, that would ignite the fire of their passion, Samantha felt an increasing wave of heat and pleasure, radiate from her midst like a pulsating sun in a barren star system. 

Sucking her bottom lip in, holding it beneath a row of perfect white teeth, long lashes came to rest comfortably against the pronounced cheeks of her sculpted face. Her pate still turned to the side, one half warmed by the comfort of the sheets, the other exposed to the chilling sensation of his absence, she soon found herself caught in the pleasurable void between alternating sensations, that occupied her every thought and intent. The hot weight, heavy against the side of her hip, like a secret weapon, waiting in the dark for its signal to be unleashed, the subtle sensation alone, served as a pleasurable herald of things to come, a potential future for the sacred lands that had found themselves conquered by his vigour and determination.

Retreating, as if part of some misleading ploy, his heat slid down her thigh, as kisses followed the route laid out by his trusted knights, as they had explored the southern reaches in preparation for their king's arrival. And soon enough, he descended upon the sacred shrine, much like he had upon the strongholds of the North. But since he was the ringleader of this entire invasion, he could command the realms of space and time to his very whim. So, as Andrew had settled into a comfortable position at the altar of the bed, he simply drew the offerings right into his range, as opposed to relinquishing his power to their allure, yet. His tender scruff, tingling the soft skin of her inner thighs, like the hoofs of an army, while his lips afforded a redeeming, moist, passion that trailed the aforementioned sensation like a cloud of thrown up dust, that gently descended back upon the lush and fertile lands. Thus, his conquest proceeded into the heart of the kingdom, the gates explored by his trusted vanguards. A gentle kiss, to appraise the sanctity of the space, an offering to the goddess it possessed. Before a moist tip, warm and gentle, pushed apart the fleshy vail, that concealed the inner temple, and the prayer bell, which would bring forth the spirits of passion and pleasure. To haunt her body like an empty vessel, being filled with the warm, golden nectar, his ministrations produced.

"Oh ... Andrew ..." she breathed heavily, as the moist, succulent caressing of her pleasure hub. Crossing her thighs behind the man's upper back, as he had so skilfully draped her legs around his strong neck, the blonde embraced the man between her limbs in possession, as well as a notion of comfort. Running both hands through the curly tresses of her golden hair, to smooth it back behind her ears in a futile notion of alleviating the heat that rose to her cheeks, the diplomat lifted her pate up ultimately, to let blue eyes trail down her physique to the king's landing. Slender neck muscles tensioning, defining her collar bones in a much more sculpted way even, she appraised the man's providence with brows ever so slightly furrowed, in the delightful notion caught between pleasure and desperation. As he ultimately dove into the sensation revealed to him, like a ripe mango, moist with the succulent passion and sweetness of juicy flesh, she reached her hands out to let slender fingers gently get tangled into the thicket of his hair once more, as his scalp so readily presented itself to her. In a way, thus her ministrations could reverberate through his skull and into his own caresses, that soon left her muscles out of control, her head falling back against the mattress, as eyes fell shut once more, to fully let her body sink into the sensation alone.

"This is amazing." The words leaving her throat in a soft moan, that had certainly gained in confidence, since her last uttered prayers. Fingertips exploring the muscles on the back of his neck, as they tensioned and released with his diligent motions, she applied wayward tingles to his full scalp, as her hips slowly started to roll into his attention, like an ocean slowly stirred up by an approaching storm. The mounds on her torso, swaying gently in the building of motion, like sailing ships in the bay. Feeling the focus of all her attention flowing into the midst of her physique, the touch and feel of his thick hair in between her fingers as she felt the vigor and virility of his ministrations twofold, the blonde felt herself getting lost to the sensation as the awareness of the world around her fell victim to the one her subconscious and her carnal desire created around Andrew and herself. Not guiding his efforts in a controlling fashion, but rather supplying him with the cues and signals to refine his infallible instincts, when it came to worshipping at the altar of her femininity. As he lit the candle that dipped her sanctum into golden perfection. The choir of passion reverberating off the walls of the temple as he teetered on the threshold, toying with the sentiment of entering the sacred realm, the culmination of his long travels and ethereal longings. As the two of them, conjoined in this bubble of trust and safety, was the culmination of their respective longings for the very sentiments they had united to explore. Which transcended, but not belied, the passion that had taken over the rationale of their mutual discovery.
  • Last Edit: August 13, 2020, 11:25:24 PM by stardust