notabricklayer | (no subject)

She is deeply distracting, and it's a moment before he remembers he's supposed to be listening to the explanation one of the duty nurses is rambling on about. Something about physicals and duty rosters and her fingers are like fire on his skin. Firmly he catches her hands and attempts to concentrate.

She doesn't need her hands, silly human.

She just needs the memory of the last time she took him over her lips and made him tremble for her.

She closes her eyes and draws that memory to the surface, and then replays it for him, in exquisite sensory detail.

He bites his lip to keep from crying out, but there's nothing that can stop the other reactions - a heaving breath, his body rocking into the hold that isn't there.

He realizes belatedly that the nurse has fallen silent, and must be waiting for an answer. Problem being, he has no idea what the problem is.

Damn and blast, and dear God his brain has gone woolly.

"Can it wait... until tomorrow?" He finally responds, hoping that it doesn't sound too gasped. There's precious little he can do about that.

Olga realises he has responsibilities, and tones it down a little, just enough that he can speak again. She rests her forehead against his hip, her hands gripping his thighs, breathing him in.

She takes pity on him and time slips, back to retrieve the memory of the woman's question for him. She doesn't let go the hold she has on his nervous system though. That sweet ache is too delicious to let go.

"Sir?" She sounds confused, so he must have not gotten it right. Suddenly though, he has the question in his head, and Olya has granted him enough mercy to get his wits back together... somewhat.

"Section three down in Engineering just needs standard labwork run - finish that out, and we'll start the next section tomorrow." He answers more correctly, releasing her hands to run his fingers through her hair.

She leans forward and nuzzles against his erection through his uniform trousers, a definitive nudge.

"Yes sir. Do you wish to be notified of any unusual findings, sir?" He desperately wants to say no, and please don't call at all until his next duty shift comes around. But he's on board ship, not at leisure, and he's been working as a duty doctor too long to give in to that temptation.

"Yes, nurse. Have fun with the boys. McCoy out." He waits a moment for the connection to cut out, and then grumbles more softly, "You are being a devil, you know that?"

Edited 2010-12-27 08:35 (UTC)

She sits back a bit, but doesn't relinquish her grip. There's a mischief in her eyes that is only ever there for him. If he described that look to anyone else who knew her, they would call him mad.

"You want I should stop?"

"Never." He might regret being so unequivocal at some later date, but right now? If she stops, he's not sure he can take it. His body is already acutely tuned to her, desperate for any touch.

"Why did you chase me, darlin'? He asks, while his brain is relatively unfogged. "Are things alright, back at the Bar?"

Her eyes flash and her hands begin the very slow, very meticulous job of disrobing him, inch by teasing inch.

"I was curious, merely. And..." She leans in close and draws his scent into her lungs. "I missed you."

"Oh, love." He smiles, but he's not laughing at her. He hasn't been missed... well. Not since he was much younger, and his marriage hadn't had time to go south. He's forgotten how good it is to hear.

It is a wonderful thing to have someone feel you're worthy to be missed.

"I'm here, Olya."

She smirks up at him. "I know. I have you right where I want you."

She presses a kiss just below his navel, her hands urging his trousers over his hips, urging him to come a little closer so she can, yes, just like that, nuzzle and kiss and lick.

What clarity of mind he had is fast dissolving. He groans as his body reminds him, firmly, just how long, in hours, minutes, seconds it has been since she last did this.

Like has been noted before - he couldn't tell anyone about her anyway - he'd have to admit to what she does to his self-control along with the deal.

Oh she likes him like this, all anticipation and that little shuddering breath that's almost a whimper as her lips hover over his heated skin. He gets so hard with barely a touch, and she makes him wait just a little longer, her hands kneading his thighs, until she can't stand it anymore and she has to taste his skin.

She has no shame when it comes to pleasing him, so the breath he feels feathering over the very base of his cock turns into one, long, slow, firm, wet lick right up the keel of him. Right up to the crown, which disappears over her lips with a hard suckling kiss.

Can she blame him? His body has learned her touch brings pleasure, and has come to crave it.

"Olya!" Her name comes at the end of a gasp, the heat of her mouth driving him closer to madness. "God, darlin'..." He doesn't even know what to ask for, in particular, other than 'for the love of all things sacred don't stop'.

She catches his hands and brings them to her head, letting him know it's okay to hold on, to tell her exactly what he wants: harder, softer, faster, slower, she's listening. She's also enjoying herself, moaning softly as she devours him, reminding herself not to reach down into his nervous system and twist him higher. She can do this the old fashioned way, and make it just as good.

Taking the invitation (and, once again, wondering just how he got to be such a lucky son-of-a-gun), he sets a steady pace - not driving, not desperate (not yet), but not at all lazy. He needs her like air in this moment, but he fully intends on enjoying the ride. And a damn fine ride it is - her moans bring a whole new wave of pleasure, and watching her...

Lucky, lucky son-of-a-gun.

Warm, strong, clever hands to give him something to thrust against, and she keeps him close, her mouth hot and tight around him. She closes her eyes and gives him all her attention, basking in the waves of his pleasure rolling down over her.

And such wonderful attention it is too - he is utterly caught up in what she's doing to him. Blissfully he rocks against her, the slick warmth pulling at his nerves.
"Olya! oh... love, oh please. Please, p...lease... oh, love...

Coherency is overrated.

He pleads and she looks up at him, gently slowing to a stop. She presses a kiss into the hollow of his hip, and stands, her hands moving to take off her coat, letting it fall to the floor.

"Have your attention now, do I?"

Her wicked smirk tells him she knows precisely what she's doing to him.

"All of it." He assures her huskily, smoothing his hands over her shoulders, pulling her closer. His eyes are nearly black with his desire. But it behooves him, now, to make sure she knows how much he means it. His hands slip down to the hem of her shirt and underneath it, sliding over her skin possessively.

She lets him strip her tunic off, toeing her boots off with ease. Her hands settle around his neck, and she nips at his jaw, nuzzling beneath, kissing every inch of his skin she can reach.

"Think they'll let us alone long enough?"

"With luck, darlin'." He can't promise anything here - some days, weeks go by without any surprises at all... but there are days and weeks it seems he doesn't get five minutes to himself.

This does not, in any way, mean he wants to stop. Nimble fingers undo the catch on her bra, pulling it loose and letting it fall disregarded on the floor.
"I think you can rise to the challenge."

She grins, purring against the hollow of his throat.

"Think you can, beloved?"

She guides his hands to her hips and the last of her clothing, recapturing his mouth with a gentle, hungry kiss, her hands skimming up his arms.

"I promise not to break you this time."

"Something to look forward to next time."

He obeys her orders with alacrity, helping her out of those trousers so he can better appreciate her ass. There is, of course, only one problem.

He, unlike she, cannot easily toe off his boots. Don't believe he isn't jealous.