When Chapel awoke she was not alone in the cabin. It took a minute for it to register, but the sleeping Vulcan had definitely not been there when she dozed off. Still invisible, she reassured herself, uncurling with a feline stretch. She'd been dreaming again, this time about Spock. It was even better than the `cabin-boy-in-the-storm' dream. Spock had discovered her in his cabin, his alien anger turning to lust at the sight of her, a frenzied need for the woman he could never deny. Yeah, right, frenzied need. In your dreams, Lovergirl.
Chapel blinked and stared at Spock. He was asleep, his breathing slow and measured. The light blanket covered only his lower torso and above it he was delightfully, deliciously naked. Chapel had seen Spock naked before in Sickbay. But this was different. Her eyes roamed to the foot of his bunk, noting the robe draped over the corner. Catching her breath, she calculated the odds on whether or not he was completely naked. The wave of vertigo that hit her had nothing to do with Mudd's invisibility potion. Her eyes raked over him hungrily. His hair was still damp and tousled from his shower.
The little voice in the back of her head started reprimanding her ferociously. Christine Chapel, this is an invasion of privacy. You have no business in this man's cabin. Now, you get out this very minute and go to Sickbay like we agreed on. I mean it... The little voice gulped as Spock stretched, the movement shifting his blanket to reveal his nude upper torso in all of its Florentine glory. The little voice dropped a full octave. Oh...my...god.
Chapel stood, drawn toward him magnetically. This was too good an opportunity to miss. As she sank to her knees beside his bunk, he rolled from his back to one side, facing her. She could see his eyelids quivering, his usually expressionless face revealing the unguarded emotions of REM sleep. His movement shifted the blanket again, revealing the curve of his left hip. Chapel's fingers twitched to flick it back just a trifle more, to satisfy her curiosity. After a moment she did just that, an audible gasp escaping as the satin fabric slid back to reveal not just total nudity, but a firm erection. Ohhhh, dear...
Spock moaned in his sleep, naked yearning visible on his face as his right fist clenched around the edge of his pillow. Chapel leaned down, a smile curving her lips. What could you be dreaming about, Mr. Spock, that has you so nervous? she wondered.
Spock stood stiffly at the transporter console, his stoic expression a bald-face lie when compared to what was going on in his groin. I am Vulcan, sexual urges must be controlled. I am a Vulcan, sexual urges must be controlled, Spock reminded himself. Christine Chapel was pressed against him, her firm breasts straining against the confining material of her gown. Spock frowned his disapproval even as his fingers slipped appreciatively against the fabric. It was torture to push away from the temptation she offered, but the transporter room was not the place for such...I am Vulcan, sexual urges must be controlled. He repeated the mantra until Chapel's image dissolved like early morning San Francisco mist beneath Sol's golden rays.
With a sigh of relief, Spock turned to leave the transporter room and found himself in his cabin. Christine Chapel stood before him, her longs legs displayed to visual perfection by the frivolous high heeled shoes she wore. Spock allowed his gaze to travel up to the hem of the tight-fitting party dress, telling himself that it was really no more revealing than her uniform, but that was simply not true. She smiled at him, the sparkle in her blue eyes an invitation.
"You said I should be in bed, Mister Spock," she teased, laughter bubbling in her sultry tone. "Your bed is as good as mine."
"Sexual urges must be..." he intoned as she closed the distance between them. They were standing nose to nose, just as they had been in the transporter room. A small voice told Spock that this was a dream. But it was certainly a vivid dream. The scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils. Her hair, tumbling like spun gold from the top of her head cried out to be touched. She'd entwined it with blue flowers which reminded him of the mizorah, a desert plant from his home planet which bloomed only at night. He remembered the cool silk of her gown beneath his fingertips... "I am Vulcan, sexual urges must be controlled."
"Not in a dream," Chapel argued as his breathing became more labored, his cock twitched responsively as he fought to control. The mantra surged louder in his mind. "You can take me here because it isn't real," she argued with inescapable logic. She leaned against him, pressing against his bare chest, her laughter as warm as her flesh was cool. "See, you're naked now. Weren't you in your uniform just a moment ago?"
"Yes," he agreed as he pressed his erection against the cool fabric of her gown. She was right. There was no logical reason to resist. This was a dream, a chimera. This was not the real Christine Chapel, but a dream image. He remembered going back to his cabin after his watch, taking a shower, a long shower, to purge her from his thoughts.
"But you couldn't," she murmured as she slipped to her knees before him. She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, her smile eager. "Because you did want her. That's why your mind provided me." Her brightly painted lips closed over his cock and Spock shuddered, his hips thrusting mindlessly forward. She was right, he rationalized as he tangled his fingers in her hair to pull her closer. This was a dream. Harmless.
Chapel stared, mouth agape as Spock moaned again, his expression indicative of either profound pain or pleasure. She was guessing it was pleasure. She slipped a finger between her legs, not surprised to find herself slick and ready. She was still invisible, she reasoned, never taking her eyes from the first officer's raging hard-on. With any luck, he wouldn't even wake up.
The little voice which had been guiding her all through the night was now suspiciously mute. If she did have a conscience, it was keeping mum about this whole `Spock-naked-and-writhing-about-on-the-bed' thing. Chapel smiled. There was no question of what she was going to do. She'd been too close to satisfaction too many times in the past few hours to consider walking away at this point. Without any real thought about the trouble she could be inviting, Chapel leaned forward, her lips parted eagerly. She ran the tip of her tongue lightly along the swollen head of Spock's erection.
Spock shuddered. He was close, so close. But he didn't want it to end, not yet. Grasping her by the shoulders he pulled her up to kiss her, savoring his own taste and scent on her lips. Her clothing was gone, he realized as his hands roved restlessly over her. He was laying down now, on his bunk, magically transported by the dream. With a soft growl of anticipation he rolled to put her beneath him. "Christine."
Chapel caught her breath when she heard Spock whisper her name. For a moment she froze. Her heart was hammering in response to a mixture of shock and arousal as she lay, pinned to the bunk beneath his weight. Was he dreaming about her? Or had he roused from sleep and somehow recognized... She gazed frantically down at her body...still invisible, she assured herself. Besides, he's asleep. He's got to be asleep.
His hand found hers and guided it to his swollen cock, his mouth still pressing kisses against the hollow of her neck. She stroked the length, spreading her legs and guiding it between her thighs.
"Yes!" she whispered in spite of herself as he sank into her. She was slick, clasping tightly around the welcome invasion. For a single instant she didn't think about being caught. The only thing in the universe that mattered was Spock inside her. His heat filled her, his slow hard thrusts rubbed her clitoris with each protracted stroke. Chapel gripped his shoulders and wrapped her long legs around him, arching to augment the force of his already powerful pumping. He leaned into her, burying his head in her shoulder as he increased the rhythm, his breath puffing warm against her neck. He sank deeper into her with each thrust now, filling her so completely that she could feel the head of his cock slamming into her cervix. Chapel's hands moved to squeeze his buttocks, her fingers digging into his flesh as she urged him to go faster.
He went faster, lost the rhythm, found it again as his movements became more shallow and frantic. With a final hitch and moan, he was there. The incredible pulse of his semen in her pushed her over with him. Chapel stopped breathing, straining as he ground his pelvis against hers. His climax faded and still he pressed against her, not pulling out, still pumping rhythmically into her.
"Again," he murmured so low she doubted the evidence of her own hearing. His mouth fastened over her right nipple, his teeth scraping lightly over the sensitive knot. When he spoke again she felt the vibrations of his lips on her breast. "Now."
His calm order was punctuated by a hard twisting thrust, and Chapel came again, arching up against the hard heat of him, her pulse throbbing through her entire body. Abruptly it was over, and he leaned heavily against her, his mouth moving lightly along the rounded curve of her ear. He quivered inside her, tiny after-shocks which tortured her sensitized clit. When he tried to draw away, she clamped her legs around him, not much resistance considering his strength, but enough to deter his withdrawal. Spock's breathing became regular again, his heartbeat slowed to normal. And as he slipped deeper into sleep, Chapel slept also.
At some point, his weight became uncomfortable, enough to rouse Chapel from her satiated doze. She tried to ease him to one side, but he was heavy and she had no leverage. Wriggling experimentally to see if she could slip from beneath him had an instantaneous effect. His cock twitched attentively.
Calm yourself, Mister Spock, she willed silently. You've had enough for one night. She braced herself gently against his shoulder and pushed, managing only to twist her own torso to the right. Now his head was pillowed on her breast, his breath fanning warm against her invisible flesh. With a little more effort, she freed her right thigh and Spock rolled slightly to her left. She was perspiring heavily now, and her skin, slick with sweat, facilitated matters. Overly confident, she pushed gently against his hip and stretched.
The sleeping Vulcan smiled, shifting his weight back over her as his lips parted to tease her taut nipple. She could feel his cock swelling against her thigh. Damn it, Spock, this is hardly the time to develop a libido, she thought frantically. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate, but his hands were moving over her body, outlining the curve of her hip, and sliding beneath her to cup and squeeze her buttocks.
"No," she breathed almost inaudibly as he rubbed his nearly erect cock between her thighs.
A low purring rumble stirred in Spock's chest, his expression of undisguised pleasure serving as a more potent aphrodisiac than the shaft which stiffened between them. Chapel's traitorous hips were already moving, arching rhythmically against him. For a moment she forgot her precarious situation. Spock wanted her. The knowledge pumped her full of a heady euphoria.
He raised himself over her, his mouth seeking hers. Chapel lost the will to resist. His tongue slipped into the warm recesses of her mouth, coaxing her to respond. With a soft moan she did just that, her tongue dancing playfully with his. Shifting his hips, Spock positioned himself between the slick folds of her labia and pushed just past the tender portal. He swallowed her gasp of pleasure, anticipating her upward thrust and compensating for it. The thick mushroom head rubbed lightly against her swollen clit but did not penetrate further. His tongue thrust into her mouth, a teasing rhythm he would deny her below. Chapel writhed beneath him, clasping his buttocks in a vain attempt to draw him into her. He was fucking her clit with shallow, feathery strokes, his biceps bulging as he braced himself over her. Chapel's head whipped back and forth, her breathing ragged as she teetered close to the edge of a climax.
She wanted all of him, but he would not give her the rough penetration she wanted. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders. "Spock!" The cry was torn from her, born of frustration.
The Vulcan froze for an instant, then raised his head, eyes open, his expression one of stunned horror.
Shit, oh shit, oh shit! Chapel's breath stalled in her lungs. The long dormant little voice of her conscience came back full force to berate her. Had to come to his cabin, didn't you? Had to get into bed with him, didn't you? Chapel squashed the little voice mentally, doing a quick damage-control inventory. He was still groggy; he would be confused. And, thank gods, she was still... She stared in mortification at Spock's shoulders. She could see her hands! They were faint, nearly insubstantial in the dim light, but definitely there. The invisibility potion was wearing off! Told you so, the little voice added smugly.
Spock's expression had turned to granite. Chapel knew by the way he was looking down that the rest of her was just as visible.
"I can explain..." she began, her voice a shrill whisper.
"This is a violation," Spock enunciated slowly, each syllable falling like ice cubes between them. He started to move off of her, but she clung to him.
"No, wait..." she gasped. "Please!"
He didn't move, his gaze cold as he stared down at her. "Explain."
Chapel tried to think of a suitable explanation, but nothing came to mind. Her conscience sat smugly in the back of her mind, refusing to help. You got us into this, Brainchild; you get us out. Chapel gulped, trying to access her dignity, but when she 63
opened her mouth to speak her words tumbled from her lips like a doomed barrel rider over Niagara Falls. "I took an invisibility potion. Harry Mudd gave it to me. I was drunk; my judgement was poor. I never would have done it if I'd been sober, Spock. You've got to believe that." Very cool, Christine.
Spock eyes narrowed and he studied her face, raising one hand to touch her cheek. "You feel solid...substantial, yet I can see the pillow through you. Fascinating."
"It was an experiment," she added quickly, hoping to appeal to his scientific curiosity. "But the side-effect was more intoxication. I wasn't thinking clearly."
"Indeed."
Chapel relaxed just slightly. He was still angry, but pleading drunken insanity seemed to have helped.
"And what prompted you to enter my cabin?" he demanded in a dangerously soft tone, his commanding demeanor curiously at odds with the intimate situation. He shifted just slightly, and his cock nudged against her moist hole.
Chapel's hips rose reflexively, and she flushed in humiliation. "Because..." Her voice trailed off as he pressed himself a fraction of a inch into her. For a brief, hysterical moment she considered telling him that at the time it had seemed the logical thing to do. Fortunately, her little voice stopped her in time to prevent that mistake from happening. There was no question what was going to happen here. He was a Vulcan male, a fully aroused Vulcan male. Pissing him off at this juncture was probably not such a wise move.
"I'm awaiting your answer," he prompted in a near growl.
"I wish I had one," she quipped lightly, striving for a bit of much needed levity in a situation that had the potential for turning very nasty. For a moment, the Vulcan's mask wavered, and she caught a glimmer of bemusement in his dark eyes. She smiled encouragingly, but the Vulcan's expression turned disapproving again.
"Nurse Chapel, give me one reason why I should not call security and have you taken to the brig." He was trembling, his body hot, his eyes over-bright with barely suppressed passion. Chapel had to admire him. Only Spock could muster this much dignity naked and horny. "Well?"
A million possibilities tumbled through her thoughts, none she would consider vocalizing. It occurred to her that Spock was talking entirely too much. There would, regrettably, be time for that later. In a sudden burst of inspiration, Chapel reached up and drew his head down to hers, her lips parted invitingly. Not an overly innovative solution, considering the situation, but it proved sufficient.
This was nothing like the first time. There was no caressing, no lazy exploration of her body. Spock's mouth closed over hers, demanding, drawing the air from her lungs. He shoved her legs up, tilting her pelvis for maximum penetration and hilted himself into her. The suddenness of it stunned her, but she had been ready, more than ready, and it took only a few hard strokes to bring her to the brink. Spock's expression was unguarded again, his features drawn tight with passion. Chapel caught her breath, climaxing suddenly. Her muscles clenched around him, but he didn't pause in his thrusting. The next strokes tingled like electric charges and she felt him swelling, gathering for his own release and she was drawn along as if caught in a powerful undertow. Hard and deep, faster and faster. Then the familiar sensation of free fall, the moment when the rest of the universe faded until all that existed was this joining.
He rolled off her a moment later, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. Chapel had barely caught her breath before he was clad in his robe and across the room, pacing slowly.
She sat up slowly, her muscles protesting the work-out she'd given them. She was almost completely visible now, and for some reason she felt more naked this way. Flushing, she pulled a blanket around her and stood up.
"What are you going to do?" she asked in a small voice, remembering his threat to call security.
Spock turned, looking at her as if he'd forgotten her presence.
"Your behavior was--"
"Inexcusable," she interrupted, not wanting to hear the censure in his voice. "Agreed. But what--"
"Please allow me to finish," Spock admonished. "Your behavior, as inexcusable as it might have been, in no way justified my response."
"It wasn't your fault," Chapel assured. "I took advantage. I knew that once I got you worked up..." She let her sentence trail off, uncertain of how wise it would be to reveal how much she knew about Vulcan biology. "The worst thing is that I can't even say I'm sorry it happened." Her voice dropped to a low whisper. "You were wonderful, Mister Spock. Just like I always knew you would be."
Spock had stopped pacing, but now he seemed intent on the screen which separated the sleeping area from the rest of his cabin. Clearing his throat, he nodded toward the synthesizer. "I do not recommend returning to your cabin attired in a blanket."
Chapel's eyes widened and she pulled the blanket more securely around her. "You're not going to report me?"
"It would prove awkward...for us both." The Vulcan said quietly and he finally met her gaze. "Consider the matter forgotten."
It was more an order than an assurance, Chapel thought as Spock walked into the bathroom. When the door slid shut behind him, she released a heavy sigh. No court-marshal. No career in ragged shreds. No public humiliation. She moved to the synthesizer and programmed a uniform. While she waited for it to fabricate, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. Completely visible, naked and hung-over, she thought, grinning like an idiot. But real satiated.
Chapel dragged herself back into her cabin. It had not been the most normal night of her life, she admitted. The nurse felt a cozy wave of satisfaction as she thought of Spock. Not normal, but not bad, either, she told the little voice in her head. If I'd have listened to you, I would have spent the entire night in Sickbay having tests done, instead of having Spock fuck me like a mad dog in heat.
That thought garnered no response from her conscience. Chapel smiled to herself. "Probably just sulking because I'm right," she chirped to the empty cabin. "God, I'm going to sleep like a rock," she muttered, kicking her party dress into a pile beside her bed as she fell, fully dressed, onto the rumpled covers. Something scratched the back of her head. She turned to see a small package and a note on her pillow. Curious, she unfolded the note, palming the package without opening it.
My darling Christine,
Please forgive my unseemly lack of manners. While I appreciate your generous offer of hospitality, I have secured...other arrangements for the duration of the journey. Still, I give these trinkets as an expression of my esteem.
Yours,
Harcourt Fenton Mudd
Chapel inhaled deeply, opening the box with caution. Her eyes widened as she saw three vials of invisibility potion resting on the soft cotton lining. A tiny slip of paper was folded over the vials. It read,
P.S. Next time, don't forget the time limit!
The End
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