JL | Cmdr Valeese, LtCmdr Stacker | "Trois Petits Mots"

Posted on Fri Aug 17th, 2018 @ 6:33pm by Commander Valeese Stacker

Mission: Lacuna

James was alone in his quarters on the ship, staring at the low-slung bottom of the upper bunk. It was good to have no occupants there, or even assigned to the room for that matter. It let him lay here and think, but what he was most conscious of right now was that his mind was going in a thousand different directions. The last glimpse he'd had of Val was when they were escorting her into medical and telling him - firmly, no less - that he was not allowed into the compartment because it was crowded enough, thank you very much. Waiting in the corridor had accomplished nothing. So he'd left word of his location and returned to the quarters.

It seemed like hours ago. Each set of footsteps in the hallway set his pulse racing, and each time they passed on by without stopping it was like a fresh blow all over again. Just how serious had her injuries been? For about the hundredth time he resisted the urge to tap his commbadge and call down to medical to ask for a status update, and put a hand over his face, eyes closed as he sighed deeply.

Starships. Medical. Motion. Lights. Noise. They made her nauseous until her equilibrium caught up with everything they offered. A head injury didn't make things much better, but in the end she was able to walk out of sickbay on on her own volition and under her own power. After everything she'd been through, the last thing she wanted to encounter was another set of foreign hands. Valeese didn't quite realize just how fast she'd booked it from a space that should have felt like home - she'd practically run out of medical and spun down corridors searching for the one thing, the one person, that could make any of this feel right again.

Crew members eyed her strangely, taking in the fact that she was still clad in men's clothes that were several sizes too large for her - his clothes. She'd declined a set of scrubs offered by the doctors in her haste to disappear and get away from everyone. Valeese couldn't have cared less, for once, about the looks and murmurs. All she cared about was counting down the numbers on the doors until she found the right one and rang the chime, huddling in wait for it to open.

The hurried footsteps outside had sounded different to his ears, and the hand had slid down from its position over his eyes. His head was just in the process of turning, brows furrowing at the distraction, when came the chime. In a flash his feet and legs were swinging out of the bunk, hitting the floor, socks swishing on the regulation carpeting - his boots were tucked over in the far corner - and arms propelling him upright as fast as both safety and convenience allowed. The door was reached within seconds and whisked open to reveal -

"Oh my god, Val," he said as soon as he eyed her, eyes quickly seeing and discounting the fact that she still wore his clothing. Forgetting just where the hell they were, his arm slid around her waist and pulled her into the room - into him. They crashed together and a pair of ensigns walking by had time just to notice his head bending down before the doors slammed shut. And then his lips slammed roughly against hers.

It gave her no time to yelp, brace, or gasp. It gave her no chance to blush or chastise him about being seen. It only gave her the chance to react in the rawest sense of the word, returning the crushing kiss and stabilizing her balance by simply coming to rest against him and allowing his guidance and strength to do the rest. Didn't matter that bruises hurt and ribs ached or that her head throbbed. His touch, the feel of him, made the pain and the anguish hide in the shadows and doldrums, chased away by the bold light he shed on her.

"I'm ok." She finally managed to breath in between kisses. It wasn't a lie. She was safe, she didn't have a worry in the world so long as she was there.

He could feel her breath washing across his skin, and suddenly everything felt right again. It was like a switch had been flipped. All the misery, heartache, all of it was gone in the blink-of-an-eye, so suddenly that it threatened to make his head spin. But he could feel her pressing to him, and that made it all completely worth it. And so he kept kissing her. "I know," he said when he did - for once - pull away, hand stroking her hair, pushing it back, exposing her delicate fan-shaped ear. And then he was on her again, lips locking, finger tracing the outline of her ear as he shivered and felt a rising tide that was absolute, pure, carnal desire of the very best sort.

He kissed his way around, across her cheek, to her jaw, as his hands went to the jacket and began to unzip it. But then they hit something and he paused, looking down, seeing - "Jesus Val. We have to get you out of that fucking ridiculous getup." It came out as a growl. A possessive growl.

She wasn't sure if it was a whimper or a moan that passed her lips at the sensation of his lips and fingers exploring the deliriously sensitive shell of her ear, but decided she could find time to define it later. It didn't need definition right then and there, only to continue on - and continue it did until she was able to steal briefest chance at a breath when he pulled away. It was disappointing, but the sound and feel of the jacket's zipper being pulled held promise of better things to come. Her eyes, smoky and riddled with emotion, followed his until they rested on the flash of bare skin and rhinestones, the rich charcoal of the gauzy cloth that barely covered her but somehow managed to accentuate what the Orions had called her 'greatest assets'. She hated it.

At first her head simply shook out of distaste for the garment, but the sound of his voice told her that he agreed. This was the work of someone else bent on proclaiming ownership - a threat to his status quo and everything he seemed to hold holy within his holdings. "It needs to go." Freed from the confinement of the jacket, her every movement was accentuated by the sound of zills ringing. Her ears, fire hot from his ministrations, began to sink into her hair while her nose wrinkled in pure disenchantment. "Get rid of it?" She asked, meeting his eyes and drawing his hands to her hips, tucking his fingers into the folds of chiffon.

"It would be my absolute pleasure," he said in firm agreement, fingers curling into the fabric and lips faintly curled in an expression of distaste. Had he known what she was thinking - that it was a threat to his dominance - he would have agreed. But it was more than that. She was his and he was hers: there wasn't any disputing that fact. And no Orion slaver was going to stand between the two of them. Not even their cloth. There was a tug, a firm yank that made her stagger a little and the sound of ripping fabric as seams gave way. The sound from him, when he spoke, was one of approval.

"One down, one to go," he murmured as he let it fall to the carpet and pool around her feet, hands sliding up her sides with both purpose and intent. He bent down, pressing a kiss firmly into her lips as his fingertips grazed the lower edge of the offending piece.

Zills sang, she breathed, and the weight of the situation she'd been in began to dissipate along with their tacky contributions to her wardrobe. Valeese didn't care that she was being left bare. She didn't care that all she had left, by way of modesty, was... Well... Nothing. His kiss sealed the deal, promising her that he was really there, that he was freeing her from what little was left of the Orions. Promising that she'd made it back to where she belonged, and more importantly that he still belonged to her and nothing would change that. "Go.." She whispered against his lips as her skin shivered in delight, feeling his fingers sliding over her battered ribs. The doctor tucked within her brain warned against such acts so soon, but the woman within banished her away, threatening to rip apart those precious degrees unless the doctor behaved and allowed the woman, the Vorta, to live and feel and celebrate.

Again, it was the same. Fingers from two hands curled around it, feeling this close-to-last vestige of the Orions. The hated, damnable, Orions. Who'd taken her from him, and almost sold her off. His mind threatened to wander down that dark path: his retaliation was to tear the cloth apart, to make it shatter. Rhinestones came off the gaudy fabric and bounced on the carpet, scattered in all directions from the force he'd employed.

A moment later it, too, was flung into the wall where it slid down to the floor. After that, it was ignored. After that, she was delightfully bare and exposed. It didn't take long before his pants hit the floor, quickly followed by his shirt. Only after the shirt was falling to the floor, though, did a fleeting and momentary thought flicker through his mind. "Computer, seal door." It clicked as he growled and pressed himself once more against her, now feeling that skin-on-skin sensation which took his own personal lust and desire to new levels.

Valeese could hear each and every stitch popping, each and every rhinestone hitting the carpet. She could hear his heart beating heavier, faster, louder. She could hear the way the remaining stones scraped along the wall as they slid to the floor. The door 'snicked' as it locked them in, separating them from the rest of the ship and his body and touch were once more incessantly against her, insisting on claiming territory... Reclaiming territory. The fact she was exposed to him, aside from a couple disheveled curls that had pooled over her shoulders as a result of the rough motion of her disrobing, did little to trouble her. His hands weren't the Orions. They wiped away the train Nzeggod had left when he touched her. His hands were more confident of their right to be there, no hesitation, no chance for being wrong. Without the fabric as a reminder of her incarceration, her ears relaxed and once again peeked from the rich tangle of her hair.

"I..." Nope. Too close. Don't you dare say it. And she didn't. Her head shook, her mouth found his chest, pressing her lips over the pounding of his heart.

His foot took a step, followed by a second and then a third. With how small the cabin was - it was certainly no great prize, not like their quarters back on the station! - it was only a few before she was poised to bump against the lonely table that occupied a quiet corner. All the while he felt the persistent pressure of her lips over his heart, electrifying his skin. It was delicious, but he wanted more. He wanted her. And so his hands slid into her hair as he breathed out a soft call of her name. He could feel himself hardening. The lust was mounting with each passing second and nothing could dissuade him from the single path that he felt he was dead-set on. The one that would end the way things between them should, especially right now.

"Val ..." No. It was too soft, too low. "I want you," he breathed as he pressed her back towards the table. He glanced down, at her, lust burning in his eyes as it boiled up and over spilled out from wherever it'd been penned up for these long past few weeks. "Val, I love you. I want you."

The coldness of the wood, was it wood? table against the small of her back made the little Vorta jump and gasp. Or was it the words that spilled out of his mouth that made her jump and gasp? She'd never be certain. What she did know was that she refused to allow herself to give them weight, especially in a situation has heated as the one they were in - especially when emotions were flying high and the euphoria of the successful rescue demanded that they play these roles. Instead she found herself sliding onto the edge of that chilled table and wrapping her legs around her ghost's waist. Wordlessly she reached for him, one hand wrapping around the evidence of his desire, guiding him towards where she needed him most. The other rested fingers over his lips while her eyes searched his for evidence of truth and... Something. Something.

Valeese's teeth caught her own lower lip while her supple calves and thighs acted to draw him closer to her, urging him onward. "You have me." She finally breathed, "I'm yours." for as long as you wish, stilled on her tongue. There was more to be seen in the Ghost's turbulent eyes than she cared to admit. She found that honesty and integrity behind the words he downright roughed against her ear. She found more than simple lust. And while it terrified her, it invigorated her and in many ways, set her free just as he'd come crashing in at the 11th hour to free her from hell mere hours before.

He'd always be there.

His eyes promised it.

Hers closed against the pin pricks of emotion and beautiful torture of physical sensation threatening to overwhelm her.

---

Commander Valeese
Chief Medical Officer
Cold Station Theta, SB-1170

Lieutenant Commander James Stacker
Chief Intelligence Officer
Cold Station Theta, SB-1170