(no subject)
There is no excuse for this. None. The lovely ladies at ontd_startrek, AIM chat division, put me up to it, and I obliged.
Going through the new Enterprise's engineering made Scotty feel a bit disloyal, a bit dirty, like he was sleeping with his wife's teenage sister. Sleek, fresh, young, and (if his current readouts were any indication) flaky as hell. And she made him feel old, too; forbiddingly advanced and shiny, reminding him of the twenty-something ensigns, just finished memorizing the manual, who would know by instinct all the things that Scotty had to work out with deduction.
Hunched over a control panel, he cursed under his breath-- more out of principle than from having anything to curse about. It wasn't that he resented having to learn a new system; if anything, he could hardly wait to sink his teeth into the shiny new hardware.
Metaphorically, of course.
Behind him, an unfamiliar voice cut into his stream of curses. "Mr. Scott?"
"That'd be me," replied Scotty, turning to face the newcomer. "Can I help ye?"
He was a pale sort of fellow, with a birdlike, mechanical way of tilting his head when he talked. "I believe we met earlier, in Ten-Forward. Mr. Data, if you recall?"
Data. The android. Scotty fought back the urge to reach for his sonic screwdriver and instead extended his hand again, remembering the cool, supple, mechanical feel of his skin. This handshake was no different-a jolt of the same tingling excitement he felt in digging through a new kind of engine.
“I have what might, perhaps, be considered an unorthodox request,” said Data, withdrawing his hand after a firm grasp.
“I seem to be the man for unorthodox requests,” replied Scotty, trying not to wriggle his fingers against the lingering sensation of pressure. “What can I help ye with?”
Data hesitated a moment before responding. “It is my understanding,” this with an inquisitive tilt of his head, “that you are particularly interested in novel forms of programming and hardware.”
“Bit of a fanatic, as they say.”
"I am aware of your preference for ample nacelles, Mr. Scott. However, perhaps my positronic brain would provide an admirably diverting experience for your... experienced hands." Data’s eyebrows lowered slightly; he seemed to be searching Scotty’s face. Perhaps he was; they said his crewmates sometimes forgot he wasn’t human.
Scotty took a deep breath to steady himself. "I canna lie, Mr. Data, I've been itching to get into your circuits since we first shook hands. Would you mind terribly if I...?"
"I would not have offered if I did not intend to follow through. Perhaps if I lie down, you will find it easier to access my panels.”
“There isn’t much to lie on around here, Mr. Data.”
“The console will suffice,” replied Data, gesturing toward the bank of control panels in the middle of the room. Scotty nodded, trying not to look too thrilled, and headed to the corner to pick up his tools.
When he turned back around, Data was halfway out of his uniform, the cloth bunched around his waist. His creator, it seemed, had seen fit to bestow him with excellent musculature, which distracted Scotty momentarily from the fact that he was taking his clothes off in Engineering.
“Mr. Data?” His mouth felt very dry.
Data looked up, all professional innocence. “If you would not be offended, removal of my clothing might facilitate your exploration."
“Do ye have wires all over, then?”
“While my body does contain a significant number of wires, especially in contrast to a human’s body, I believe you are not necessarily in search of wiring. However, Mr. Scott, I have a number of panels, arranged on my body according to ease of access and obscurity.”
With that, Data shed the last of his clothing, leaving Scotty gape-mouthed and stunned. “Ye have a… ye’re…”
“I am anatomically correct in every external way,” offered Data coolly, stretching out on the low console, belly-down, as if it were a bed. “I assume you are as well?”
“Ah, um, yes-that is-I’ll be leaving my uniform on for this,” Scotty finally managed.
“That is to be expected,” replied Data, leaning his forehead onto the table and relaxing. “My panels are the ones under examination, as I understand.”
It turned out that, while the panel in the back of Data’s head was easy enough for Scotty to access, it also lacked some of the more obscure functions Scotty had been hoping to poke at, and furthermore it was… distracting. Data’s musculature apparently included quite the nice arse.
“Perhaps you should utilize my frontal panels,” suggested Data after a few minutes of occipital fumblings. “I can direct you in their functions and layouts more easily in that way.” He reached back and closed his scalp panel, then flipped onto his back with the perfect precision that characterized his movements.
And if Scotty had thought his arse was distracting… Data’s cock was obviously made with an eye for aesthetics. Scotty forced it out of his mind, focusing intently as Data opened a small panel on his lower abdomen. Lights and circuits glowed steadily, and as Scotty began to examine the aperture, Data pointed out the most relevant spots.
Leaning over the makeshift table, Scotty quickly became engrossed in his work, piecing together a growing understanding of the fabulously advanced circuitry. It took him a few minutes to realize where his wrist was resting.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered, yanking his hand away and fighting back a blush.
“I am hardly perturbed. Place your hands wherever you wish.”
The blush won. Frowning, Scotty bowed even further over the open patch of skin. "I can tell ye've nae had this panel opened often before.”
“It controls numerous subroutines that I have little reason to interfere with,” explained Data. “You are primarily manipulating my touch receptors.”
“Do ye have your touch receptors on?" And he’s just had his hand… there! Scotty stole a swift peek. Was it just him, or did it look… different? Larger?
“I keep my touch receptors on at all times, except during self-maintenance and sleep mode. I can feel every part of my skin.” God, had it twitched? Scotty realized he was staring.
He’d tried to be surreptitious in his observation, but his companion was an android. “Mr. Scott,” Data observed, “you seem to be preoccupied with my genitalia.”
“It’s, er, it’s a lovely specimen,” mumbled Scotty, trying to sound flippant-which was really hard to do when your ears were flaming red. If his hand was resting flat against Data’s abdomen, inches from the crucial juncture, he didn’t dare move it now, lest he admit how close he was to touching. Lest he accidentally touch. His fingers twitched.
“If you are so inclined,” Data replied, raising his head, “you may examine my external features. I have a panel there that might interest you.” With that, he wrapped his hand around his cock as if to stroke it. Scotty thought he might faint.
Instead, a tiny panel opened, just where his cock should have met his pubic hair, if he had pubic hair. It contained circuits so complex that Scotty forgot, for a moment, where it was, and had his tools probing before he could work up another blush.
“The blue one, Mr. Scott.” Scotty nodded, feeling the movement of his own breath reflected across Data’s skin and over his own hand. He pressed the blue spark-
Data’s cock sprang to full attention, straining against the heel of Scotty’s hand, and Scotty felt an answering burn kindling at the base of his belly. Data let out a strangled sound.
“I am- fully functional- in all areas of human activity,” Data said through gritted teeth, as if he couldn’t bear to let another of those sounds out. “Some of these… are less frequently used than perhaps they should be.”
“Ye ought to work on it yourself,” said Scotty, forgetting entirely not to stare. “Most of us poor single bastards take care of our own business, ye ken.” His hand, lying over the panel, curled almost of its own accord to wrap around the base of Data’s cock, and Scotty couldn’t keep himself from groaning at the hiss of Data’s gasp.
"Frankly, Mr. Scott, I have been... longing for maintenance to be performed in this area. While I am fully competent in the use of microelectronics, I feel that the creativity offered by such a brilliant human mind as yours might evoke much stronger responses than I am able to achieve on my own."
“So what ye mean is…”
“The blue light, Mr. Scott. Please.” Data was begging, hoarse; Scotty swallowed hard. He bent close, burningly aware of Data’s cock just inches from his face, and probed at the light again.
This time, Data’s back arched so hard that it jogged Scotty’s wrist, and his cock left a wet smear on Scotty’s cheek. Neither of them bothered to muffle their groans; Scotty probed at Data’s balls with his free hand, feeling the weight of them -so human -in his palm, rolling them gently and savoring the gasps and whimpers and the clutching fingers that buried themselves in his hair. “I must be doing it right,” he managed, sounding less smug than he’d have liked.
“Continue,” said Data, and in his undone voice it sounded nothing like a command.
The blue light, then. Scotty touched it, carefully this time, gently; if his head moved slightly, so that Data’s cock rested against his cheek. The tip was beaded with moisture. “Do ye really need precum, bein’ a robot and all?”
“Android,” gasped Data. “I can excrete small amounts of liquid in order to imitate normal human function-is this necessary at the moment?”
“It means I won’t have to spit,” smiled Scotty, and turned his head to swallow Data’s cock.
The part that really got to Scotty was Data’s expression-confused, desperate, and ever-so-slightly analytical. Scotty had it on good authority that he, personally, was the sort to shout obscenities in bed, and he’d never been with someone who didn’t get a little blurry-eyed and loud under the ministrations of his tongue. This android fellow seemed determined to maintain an objective distance even with his cock (thick, rigid, delicious, with a faint plasticky undertaste) buried in Scotty’s throat.
That would have to change.
The open panel was pretty close to his face, but he’d been in worse conditions while flying his old Enterprise, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t find a way to squeeze just a little more out of a system. Squinting, he skirted carefully around the blue spark, flipping switches almost too small to see. He withdrew just a bit, so that the head of Data’s cock rested in the center of his tongue, and held Data’s hips down with his forearm to avoid the android’s disappointed thrusts.
“What are you-what is-” As Scotty flipped switches and bridged circuits, the desperation in Data’s voice grew, drowning out the analytical tone in a series of gasps and groans.
“Givin’ you all I’ve got,” said Scotty, withdrawing his mouth completely for a moment. “Almost… there!” A crackling arc spat for a second across two tiny printed wires, and Scotty winced as Data cried out hoarsely. “Sorry, sorry-”
But Data’s cry trailed off in a helpless groan, and as the tiny arc occurred again, Scotty wrapped his lips around Data’s cock once more, this time with more than a bit of smugness. If he just grounded it there...
Data’s moans unraveled completely; he gasped and thrust and clenched his hand in Scotty’s hair again. If it weren’t for the bobbing and pulsing of the cock in Scotty’s mouth, he wouldn’t have realized the android was coming; there was no hot spurt of semen, no tightening of the balls. Already Scotty found himself plotting ways to fix that.
When Data at last subsided into panting and trembling, Scotty stood up, half smirking. “Quite the quality system you’ve got there, laddie. But I can think of a few improvements on the design, if ye wouldn’t mind my tinkerin’.”
It took Data a few moments to respond, still caught in the aftermath of orgasm. “In which ways does my system fall short?”
“We’ll just call it… external verisimilitude, shall we then?”
“Perhaps I should more closely observe biological human responses to this kind of stimulus,” replied Data, sitting up on the table and casting an eye out for his clothing. The analytical tone was right back in his voice, making Scotty itch to drown it out again. His years on the Enterprise had taught him well: any good machine was at its best when it forgot, for a few moments, that it was a machine. And the ache in his groin really liked the implications of Data’s suggestion.
“Aye, Mr. Data. That might be, ah, beneficial to us both.”
“Very well then,” said Data, stepping back into his uniform with perfect aplomb. “I believe the appropriate colloquialism might be… turn about is fair play?”
Going through the new Enterprise's engineering made Scotty feel a bit disloyal, a bit dirty, like he was sleeping with his wife's teenage sister. Sleek, fresh, young, and (if his current readouts were any indication) flaky as hell. And she made him feel old, too; forbiddingly advanced and shiny, reminding him of the twenty-something ensigns, just finished memorizing the manual, who would know by instinct all the things that Scotty had to work out with deduction.
Hunched over a control panel, he cursed under his breath-- more out of principle than from having anything to curse about. It wasn't that he resented having to learn a new system; if anything, he could hardly wait to sink his teeth into the shiny new hardware.
Metaphorically, of course.
Behind him, an unfamiliar voice cut into his stream of curses. "Mr. Scott?"
"That'd be me," replied Scotty, turning to face the newcomer. "Can I help ye?"
He was a pale sort of fellow, with a birdlike, mechanical way of tilting his head when he talked. "I believe we met earlier, in Ten-Forward. Mr. Data, if you recall?"
Data. The android. Scotty fought back the urge to reach for his sonic screwdriver and instead extended his hand again, remembering the cool, supple, mechanical feel of his skin. This handshake was no different-a jolt of the same tingling excitement he felt in digging through a new kind of engine.
“I have what might, perhaps, be considered an unorthodox request,” said Data, withdrawing his hand after a firm grasp.
“I seem to be the man for unorthodox requests,” replied Scotty, trying not to wriggle his fingers against the lingering sensation of pressure. “What can I help ye with?”
Data hesitated a moment before responding. “It is my understanding,” this with an inquisitive tilt of his head, “that you are particularly interested in novel forms of programming and hardware.”
“Bit of a fanatic, as they say.”
"I am aware of your preference for ample nacelles, Mr. Scott. However, perhaps my positronic brain would provide an admirably diverting experience for your... experienced hands." Data’s eyebrows lowered slightly; he seemed to be searching Scotty’s face. Perhaps he was; they said his crewmates sometimes forgot he wasn’t human.
Scotty took a deep breath to steady himself. "I canna lie, Mr. Data, I've been itching to get into your circuits since we first shook hands. Would you mind terribly if I...?"
"I would not have offered if I did not intend to follow through. Perhaps if I lie down, you will find it easier to access my panels.”
“There isn’t much to lie on around here, Mr. Data.”
“The console will suffice,” replied Data, gesturing toward the bank of control panels in the middle of the room. Scotty nodded, trying not to look too thrilled, and headed to the corner to pick up his tools.
When he turned back around, Data was halfway out of his uniform, the cloth bunched around his waist. His creator, it seemed, had seen fit to bestow him with excellent musculature, which distracted Scotty momentarily from the fact that he was taking his clothes off in Engineering.
“Mr. Data?” His mouth felt very dry.
Data looked up, all professional innocence. “If you would not be offended, removal of my clothing might facilitate your exploration."
“Do ye have wires all over, then?”
“While my body does contain a significant number of wires, especially in contrast to a human’s body, I believe you are not necessarily in search of wiring. However, Mr. Scott, I have a number of panels, arranged on my body according to ease of access and obscurity.”
With that, Data shed the last of his clothing, leaving Scotty gape-mouthed and stunned. “Ye have a… ye’re…”
“I am anatomically correct in every external way,” offered Data coolly, stretching out on the low console, belly-down, as if it were a bed. “I assume you are as well?”
“Ah, um, yes-that is-I’ll be leaving my uniform on for this,” Scotty finally managed.
“That is to be expected,” replied Data, leaning his forehead onto the table and relaxing. “My panels are the ones under examination, as I understand.”
It turned out that, while the panel in the back of Data’s head was easy enough for Scotty to access, it also lacked some of the more obscure functions Scotty had been hoping to poke at, and furthermore it was… distracting. Data’s musculature apparently included quite the nice arse.
“Perhaps you should utilize my frontal panels,” suggested Data after a few minutes of occipital fumblings. “I can direct you in their functions and layouts more easily in that way.” He reached back and closed his scalp panel, then flipped onto his back with the perfect precision that characterized his movements.
And if Scotty had thought his arse was distracting… Data’s cock was obviously made with an eye for aesthetics. Scotty forced it out of his mind, focusing intently as Data opened a small panel on his lower abdomen. Lights and circuits glowed steadily, and as Scotty began to examine the aperture, Data pointed out the most relevant spots.
Leaning over the makeshift table, Scotty quickly became engrossed in his work, piecing together a growing understanding of the fabulously advanced circuitry. It took him a few minutes to realize where his wrist was resting.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered, yanking his hand away and fighting back a blush.
“I am hardly perturbed. Place your hands wherever you wish.”
The blush won. Frowning, Scotty bowed even further over the open patch of skin. "I can tell ye've nae had this panel opened often before.”
“It controls numerous subroutines that I have little reason to interfere with,” explained Data. “You are primarily manipulating my touch receptors.”
“Do ye have your touch receptors on?" And he’s just had his hand… there! Scotty stole a swift peek. Was it just him, or did it look… different? Larger?
“I keep my touch receptors on at all times, except during self-maintenance and sleep mode. I can feel every part of my skin.” God, had it twitched? Scotty realized he was staring.
He’d tried to be surreptitious in his observation, but his companion was an android. “Mr. Scott,” Data observed, “you seem to be preoccupied with my genitalia.”
“It’s, er, it’s a lovely specimen,” mumbled Scotty, trying to sound flippant-which was really hard to do when your ears were flaming red. If his hand was resting flat against Data’s abdomen, inches from the crucial juncture, he didn’t dare move it now, lest he admit how close he was to touching. Lest he accidentally touch. His fingers twitched.
“If you are so inclined,” Data replied, raising his head, “you may examine my external features. I have a panel there that might interest you.” With that, he wrapped his hand around his cock as if to stroke it. Scotty thought he might faint.
Instead, a tiny panel opened, just where his cock should have met his pubic hair, if he had pubic hair. It contained circuits so complex that Scotty forgot, for a moment, where it was, and had his tools probing before he could work up another blush.
“The blue one, Mr. Scott.” Scotty nodded, feeling the movement of his own breath reflected across Data’s skin and over his own hand. He pressed the blue spark-
Data’s cock sprang to full attention, straining against the heel of Scotty’s hand, and Scotty felt an answering burn kindling at the base of his belly. Data let out a strangled sound.
“I am- fully functional- in all areas of human activity,” Data said through gritted teeth, as if he couldn’t bear to let another of those sounds out. “Some of these… are less frequently used than perhaps they should be.”
“Ye ought to work on it yourself,” said Scotty, forgetting entirely not to stare. “Most of us poor single bastards take care of our own business, ye ken.” His hand, lying over the panel, curled almost of its own accord to wrap around the base of Data’s cock, and Scotty couldn’t keep himself from groaning at the hiss of Data’s gasp.
"Frankly, Mr. Scott, I have been... longing for maintenance to be performed in this area. While I am fully competent in the use of microelectronics, I feel that the creativity offered by such a brilliant human mind as yours might evoke much stronger responses than I am able to achieve on my own."
“So what ye mean is…”
“The blue light, Mr. Scott. Please.” Data was begging, hoarse; Scotty swallowed hard. He bent close, burningly aware of Data’s cock just inches from his face, and probed at the light again.
This time, Data’s back arched so hard that it jogged Scotty’s wrist, and his cock left a wet smear on Scotty’s cheek. Neither of them bothered to muffle their groans; Scotty probed at Data’s balls with his free hand, feeling the weight of them -so human -in his palm, rolling them gently and savoring the gasps and whimpers and the clutching fingers that buried themselves in his hair. “I must be doing it right,” he managed, sounding less smug than he’d have liked.
“Continue,” said Data, and in his undone voice it sounded nothing like a command.
The blue light, then. Scotty touched it, carefully this time, gently; if his head moved slightly, so that Data’s cock rested against his cheek. The tip was beaded with moisture. “Do ye really need precum, bein’ a robot and all?”
“Android,” gasped Data. “I can excrete small amounts of liquid in order to imitate normal human function-is this necessary at the moment?”
“It means I won’t have to spit,” smiled Scotty, and turned his head to swallow Data’s cock.
The part that really got to Scotty was Data’s expression-confused, desperate, and ever-so-slightly analytical. Scotty had it on good authority that he, personally, was the sort to shout obscenities in bed, and he’d never been with someone who didn’t get a little blurry-eyed and loud under the ministrations of his tongue. This android fellow seemed determined to maintain an objective distance even with his cock (thick, rigid, delicious, with a faint plasticky undertaste) buried in Scotty’s throat.
That would have to change.
The open panel was pretty close to his face, but he’d been in worse conditions while flying his old Enterprise, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t find a way to squeeze just a little more out of a system. Squinting, he skirted carefully around the blue spark, flipping switches almost too small to see. He withdrew just a bit, so that the head of Data’s cock rested in the center of his tongue, and held Data’s hips down with his forearm to avoid the android’s disappointed thrusts.
“What are you-what is-” As Scotty flipped switches and bridged circuits, the desperation in Data’s voice grew, drowning out the analytical tone in a series of gasps and groans.
“Givin’ you all I’ve got,” said Scotty, withdrawing his mouth completely for a moment. “Almost… there!” A crackling arc spat for a second across two tiny printed wires, and Scotty winced as Data cried out hoarsely. “Sorry, sorry-”
But Data’s cry trailed off in a helpless groan, and as the tiny arc occurred again, Scotty wrapped his lips around Data’s cock once more, this time with more than a bit of smugness. If he just grounded it there...
Data’s moans unraveled completely; he gasped and thrust and clenched his hand in Scotty’s hair again. If it weren’t for the bobbing and pulsing of the cock in Scotty’s mouth, he wouldn’t have realized the android was coming; there was no hot spurt of semen, no tightening of the balls. Already Scotty found himself plotting ways to fix that.
When Data at last subsided into panting and trembling, Scotty stood up, half smirking. “Quite the quality system you’ve got there, laddie. But I can think of a few improvements on the design, if ye wouldn’t mind my tinkerin’.”
It took Data a few moments to respond, still caught in the aftermath of orgasm. “In which ways does my system fall short?”
“We’ll just call it… external verisimilitude, shall we then?”
“Perhaps I should more closely observe biological human responses to this kind of stimulus,” replied Data, sitting up on the table and casting an eye out for his clothing. The analytical tone was right back in his voice, making Scotty itch to drown it out again. His years on the Enterprise had taught him well: any good machine was at its best when it forgot, for a few moments, that it was a machine. And the ache in his groin really liked the implications of Data’s suggestion.
“Aye, Mr. Data. That might be, ah, beneficial to us both.”
“Very well then,” said Data, stepping back into his uniform with perfect aplomb. “I believe the appropriate colloquialism might be… turn about is fair play?”