Caught in the Act

See Prologue for disclaimers, etc.

Title: Caught in the Act
Author: Ginny Powell


Act III - Jonathan
Scene 1

Back in Room 4, D Deck, Malcolm scrambled to his feet so
fast, Gabreefa was dumped to the floor. He shot her an
apologetic look as he lunged for the panel by the door.

“Reed here.” He tried to make his voice sound as normal as
possible under the circumstances.

“Is Gabreefa with you?”

Malcolm cleared his throat, glanced behind him. Gabreefa’s
back was to him as she slipped her gown back on. “Yes,
sir.”

“Bring her to my Ready Room. Archer out.”

Reed stood at the com for a moment, willing himself not to
panic. He started to turn to Gabreefa, but realized his
coveralls were still open, his now limp cock lolling
against the zipper. Quickly he arranged himself, silently
thanking whoever had engineered the liquid-repellent
properties of the coverall fabric. When he felt decent
again, he turned.

Gabreefa was standing with her arms across her chest, her
face blank.

“Gabreefa, I-”

“Take me to the Captain.”

Malcolm didn’t try to speak again. He just guided her down
the hall, into the turbolift, and out onto the Bridge.

Archer was at Ensign Sato’s station, and both turned as the
lift doors opened. As before, when Gabreefa’s eyes found
the Captain, she smiled warmly and headed straight for him,
and he met her, echoing her smile.

“Right this way, please,” Archer invited his guest, urging
her toward his Ready Room doors. Though she looked askance
at T’Pol and Mayweather as she passed, her steps never
faltered.

Malcolm had stopped just inside the Bridge, and now stood
indecisively, his eyes darting about. He felt as though he
should warn the Captain, but how could he without revealing
what had happened? And what if she told the Captain
herself? Was this sudden fear he had that Gabreefa was not
to be trusted real, or just his possessiveness coming to
the surface?

T’Pol, at her nearby station, noticed him. “Lieutenant?
Lieutenant Reed, are you all right?”

“Um, yes, I, uh, I’ll just go to my station now.” And Reed
scurried across the Bridge.

T’Pol watched him for a moment. Then, filing his behavior
under her growing list of “Things Humans Do That I Will
Never Understand”, she went back to her work.


Scene 2

“So, did Mr. Reed find you quarters?” Archer asked as he
ushered Gabreefa into his Ready Room and gestured toward a
chair.

“Yes,” she replied, looking around the room curiously,
ignoring the chair.

“And I trust they are to your satisfaction?”

“Very much so.” Gabreefa noticed the sketches on the wall
and went to stand by them, running her fingers over the
protective glass caressingly.

“I brought you here because I have a few questions to ask
you,” Archer began, moving to stand beside her.

“Anything,” she answered huskily, turning suddenly. Her
face scant centimeters from his, she looked from his lips
to his eyes and back again.

Archer hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath and a
step back. “About your ship, how fast could it go?”

Gabreefa chuckled. “Not very fast.” She stepped forward,
closing the gap between them. “Your ship is so much more
capable.” Putting a hand on his shoulder, she trailed it
towards his neck.

Archer stood his ground this time. He couldn’t have her
herding him all around his own Ready Room. And it wasn’t
as though she was dangerous or anything. He would just
ignore what her hand was doing.

“And were you launched from the surface of your planet, or
from orbit?” he asked casually.

“Neither. We were launched from our last remaining
starship, just outside our solar system so that we wouldn’t
be pulled back into orbit around our own star.” Her
fingers were running through his hair now, her thumb
caressing the rim of his ear.

Archer breathed an internal sigh of relief – he’d known
there was an explanation for T’Pol’s findings. But there
were still other questions. She raised her other hand
toward his face, and he took it gently by the wrist to use
as an illustration.

“The Doctor says you have bio-mechanical parts here, under
your fingernails.”

“Yes, many of my people have such enhancements,” she
replied, undisturbed, rotating her hand so he could see it
from all angles. “Unfortunately, we have lost the means to
affect them, and even the knowledge of why our ancestors
put them there. Can your Doctor tell me what they are
for?”

“Some sort of storage device, he thinks.”

“Storage for what?” she asked, her free hand moving down to
his chest.

“He’s not sure.”

“Oh.” She seemed disappointed. Then she looked at her
wrist, which he still held. He let go immediately, and the
hand continued on its previous course, coming to brush his
cheek.

All Archer’s suspicions seemed so silly now that she had
explained. How could he doubt this woman, when she was so
open, so friendly, so…close.

Then he remembered that there was one more thing.

“Hoshi is having trouble finishing her translations,” he
said, his voice wavering just a little as her thumb brushed
across his lips. “Seems there are inconsistencies in
syntax, words that appear to be nonsense.”

“She is translating the recording she made when I first
woke up, yes? I was confused; I may have not been making
sense. I could speak to her again. Would you like me to
do it now?” Something about her voice indicated that she
had no intention of scooting off to finish the interview
just then.

“Um…”

“Can I ask you a question?” she interrupted his indecision,
her hands still roaming his body distractingly. He grunted
his assent. “In my culture, when we find someone
attractive, it is customary to show our affection openly.
Is it so in yours?”

“Uh, well, we tend not to rush into, um, physical
relationships-”

“Really? What a pity.”

“-but there are exceptions. For example, when the
attraction is mutual-”

“Is it?” she breathed.

Archer looked at her, her face tilted to the side
questioningly, her eyes hooded, pupils dilated. Her skin
sparkled iridescently where the light hit it. He thought
he had never seen anything so alluring in his life. Though
logically he knew a lot of what he felt was the pheromones
talking, that knowledge made her no less beautiful. It
wouldn’t be the first time he’d found an alien female
attractive, nor the first time he’d given in to the
attraction. She had made her feelings clear. There seemed
nothing standing in the way of his doing what he had wanted
to do all day.

He kissed her.

Their lips met gently, warmly. It was he who ventured a
tongue into her mouth, where it was entangled by hers. The
hands that had been caressing him moved to his back to pull
him firmly against her. His own hands went to her back,
touching tentatively at first, then more boldly, roaming up
to the back of her neck and down to the curve of her
buttocks.

When he heard the sound of his zipper being undone and felt
a warm hand on his bare chest, making it clear that the
affection she intended to show him had only begun, he
wished, not for the first time, that he had a couch in his
Ready Room. But one of his strengths had always been the
ability to improvise. And so he turned and lifted her onto
the desk beside them.

Her gown felt like silk, and so did the skin underneath it
as he lifted the garment up her legs, tugged it from under
her rump, and finally removed it over her head. The sight
of her coloration was startling, yet intriguing. He
wondered if there were other, less obvious, differences
between their species, and began a thorough check.

He started with her neck, tasting the soft flesh with his
lips and tongue while his hands scouted ahead. When he
tugged at the darker blue of her nipples, she seemed to
like it, and so he trailed kisses down to her breasts and
took them into his mouth each in turn. When she reached
once more for his zipper, he pushed her hanway way gently.
He was not to be hurried. The undersides of her breasts,
her ribcage, the sides of her waist, all received their due
attention. He fancied he tasted blueberry and grape in the
unique flavor of her skin. The inside of her belly button
seemed of great interest to him. By the time he reached
the nexus of her widely spread legs, she was practically
keening.

“Please, Jonathan, please,” Gabreefa begged. But when he
obligingly stretched his tongue toward her welcoming
wetness, she surprised him by grasping the back of his head
and pulling him away. “No, I want you inside me,” she
demanded breathily.

“If you insist,” he acquiesced, standing to shrug out of
his coveralls. As he pulled his undershirt up, she was
tugging his briefs down, then urging him forward with a
firm hand on his hard shaft. “Patience,” he whispered as
he leaned over her, pressing her back onto the desk. His
hands on her hips to keep her still, he entered her slowly.

The sensations were exquisite, and he was tempted to plunge
into her with abandon. But he had learned to savor the
journey, not just the destination, and kept his pace
restrained. When he was fully embedded inside her, he
pulled almost out before starting another long, slow
stroke. Closing his eyes, he delighted in every second of
sweet friction.

Beneath him, Gabreefa squirmed, wrapping her legs around
him and squeezing. But she was no match for his strength,
or his determination to maintain the steady pace. After a
few minutes of this, though, he released her hips so he
could lean forward to kiss her again. She used the
opportunity to set a new pace, driving her hips hard
against him, pulling him to her with her legs. Archer
smiled at her eagerness and thoroughly enjoyed the ride,
especially when she cried out and clawed at his hair as
wave after wave of spasms seemed to ripple from her head to
her toes. When she seemed spent, Archer let her rest until
her breathing had slowed, then began once more at his
inexorable pace.

As the thrusts began anew, Gabreefa’s eyes flew open and
she gaped at him in disbelief. He just smiled smugly and
kept on doing what he was doing. He lifted one of her legs
and then the other onto his shoulders, turning to kiss each
instep before he slid his hands down to her thighs. Then,
gradually, he began to make each stroke a little faster, a
little harder. Gabreefa slowly began to push back against
him, the moans which escaped her throat at the apex of each
thrust growing louder. Eventually the slap of flesh
against flesh filled the air, and guttural sounds began to
emerge from Archer’s throat. With a final flurry of
violent thrusts, his orgasm washed over him.

As his seed spilled inside Gabreefa, she arched her back
and forced him as deep as possible. When he could no
longer stand up, he released her legs and leaned forward to
rest his forehead between her breasts. He lay there for a
long time, gasping for air. He was just thinking about
getting up when the door chimed.