Fic: Twilight Glimpse at Setting Sun (Pike/Number One)
Title:Twilight Glimpse at Setting Sun
Author: igrockspock
Pairing: Pike/Number One
Rating: NC-17
Summary: One is no stranger to taking chances and fighting for what she wants, but there's one thing she's never told her captain. On the night she takes command of the Yorktown, she decides to remedy that.
She has been captain of the Yorktown for two hours and thirty six minutes, not that she's been counting. He sits beside her at the helm, completing the final formality of transferring all his access codes and passwords to her. Most people did this before the official promotion ceremony, but she had wanted these last few moments on the empty bridge with him. He had wanted it too; he must have, or he simply would have told her that they'd do it before the ceremony. It isn't what she'd wanted all these years, not even close, but it feels good. She feels good. Being the captain of a starship blots out all other regrets.
They walk to the turbolift side by side. They'd risen from their seats together and fallen into step wordlessly and automatically. This is the last time, she thinks, the last time they will ever do this. Being captain of a starship also makes her sentimental, apparently. But she knows there's no trace of it on her face when she turns to look at him, although she isn't sure now whether that's a blessing or a curse.
"I relieve you," she says, although she'd said it already at the ceremony.
"I am relieved," he echoes softly. She'd become captain the moment he'd said it. She doesn't allow herself to update her count of the minutes that have passed since then.
Her eyes flick to the control panel to watch the progress of the turbolift toward the bridge. It's still down in engineering; it runs slow when the ship -- her ship -- is powered down in space dock. When the doors finally open, he is standing close to her. Closer than a friend, further away than a lover. As always. The skin of her arms prickles at the proximity. Another sensation she's not going to feel again any time soon.
"After you," he says, gesturing toward the waiting lift. "Captain."
She smiles in spite of herself. Being called that feels good. She still doesn't step inside the lift.
"Come on, she'll still be here tomorrow. I'll buy you a drink," he offers, mistaking her hesitation for reluctance to leave her new ship. He isn't totally wrong; she does want to spend her first night as captain on board. She just doesn't want to spend it alone. She hits the button to shut the door.
He smiles good-naturedly.
"Look, if you want to spend the night in the captain's chair, I won't tell anyone. But you're going to have to let me off sometime."
She wills herself to look him in the eye while she taps her new captain's code into the security lock on the control panel.
"Yes," she agrees. "But not right now."
"Did you just lock the bridge?"
"Yes," she says again, her voice smooth and level no matter how hard her heart is pounding.
"Because?"
She wills her voice to hold steady. Her palms are sweaty. She can't remember the last time that happened to her. Possibly never. She's never had a last chance like this before, a last chance to be with a man she's wanted for what feels like forever. Rationalizing herself out of this would be easy; she's been doing it for the two months since she found out the ship would be hers. At first, she had told herself that she would just wait another day; now, she could tell herself that she'll see again him in a month or a maybe a year, and she ought to let their long distance friendship settle before she risks shaking it up. But that's not how Starfleet works. She's said casual goodbyes to more than one friend, not realizing it was the last time she'd see them alive. She breathes in deep. She has to say it.
"Because I want to have sex all over the bridge, and I don't intend to be interrupted. Sir." She has no idea what's going to happen now, but god, saying it is a relief. If she gets nothing else from this night, she got to call him sir while propositioning him. One fantasy she can finally check off her list, even if he's no longer her superior.
She can't bring herself to look him in the eye, but she thinks she sees shock on his face. Not horror, at least, and he hadn't laughed, so her worst fears haven't materialized. But he isn't moving toward her either. That's fine, she thinks, just fine. She's come this far; she can see it through to the end. She takes a step forward, blotting out all thought of consequences the same way she had when she'd set her phaser to overload on Talos IV.
"To be clear, I wanted to have sex with you all over the bridge." She takes another step. "I could do it by myself, but that wouldn't be nearly as fun." And then, since she is committed now, she pushes him against the bulkhead and kisses him as hard as she can. This had never been part of her fantasies; as much as she likes being in charge, she'd always wanted him to be the one to pin her against the wall. Not that this is really anything to complain about. She can feel every inch of his hard muscles against her body, and she likes the way he slumps defenselessly beneath her. It's really a shame that she needs to breathe.
He is panting hard when she finally pulls back.
"I had a dozen witty responses to that." His voice is rough between the long, raspy breaths, just the way she likes it. "But you drove them all out of my head."
She raises both her eyebrows.
"So what do you say, sir? About the sex?"
Then her back hits the bulkhead with a thud, and his whole weight is pressing her against the wall. His teeth graze her lips; his hand skims over her breast. She spreads her legs wider, the better to feel his hardness against her. For the first time in her entire Starfleet career, she wishes she were wearing that godawful mini-dress. Then he could simply yank off her underwear, or better yet, shove it to the side, and he'd be inside her. Quick, simple, hard, and hot, and no chance at all for second thoughts. Now, though, he needs to pull off the tight uniform pants, and to do that, he'll have to bend down to take off the boots. Every second before he is inside of her is a chance for this to turn awkward, for their minds to seize control of their bodies, for all nine years of her fantasies to die and take their friendship with them.
It's the last thought that stings the worst, even while she is sucking on his earlobes and nipping his jaw. Though she scarcely admits it, even to herself, this one night is not nearly all she wants. What they could have is far greater than the sex fantasies she's allowed herself on lonely nights, but what she truly wants is not permitted to Starfleet officers who've married their ships. This is as much as she can have, and while he tugs on her hair and sucks on her bottom lip, she does not find it at all inadequate.
The boots, thank god, are not the obstacle she'd imagined. She teeters as she tries to pull the left one off using her right foot, but that only forces her to lean harder against his body, and he wraps a strong arm around her hips to keep her from falling. The truth is, it's easy. She gets her boots off, he gets rid of her pants, she pulls his shirt over his head and studies his mussed hair with satisfaction. He lifts her easily, and she wraps her legs around his hips.
"Now," she breathes into his ear, digging her fingernails into the bare skin of his shoulder.
"Yes," he answers, and they both moan together when slides inside her.
Their bodies move together naturally, as if this is the thousandth time they've done this instead of the first. It is as wild and wanton as she had ever wanted, but it is also fun in a way that she hadn't expected. She laughs against his neck, and he pulls back for a second to look her in the face.
"I like it when you do that."
"Laugh? Or proposition you?"
"Both."
He thrusts in deeper and harder, and she throws her head back and gasps, barely feeling the pain of her head striking the metal bulkhead. He keeps up the relentless thrusts, and she can feel herself about to go over the edge, but one thing is missing. Her eyes lock on the helm console over his shoulder even though she can't stop moaning into his ear.
His thrusts slow instantly, pulling her back from the edge.
"Tell me," he whispers into her ear. "Whatever you want, I want to give it."
"The helm. I always wanted you to..."
Her voice falters; in all her years of fantasies, she had never actually imagined that herself saying this out loud. She's never spoken to a man this way before, never imagined that he would be the first.
"I was hoping you'd know."
He laughs against her neck, pauses a moment to suck at the skin there.
"I think I do know." His voice is a slow, deliberate drawl in her ear. "But I really want to hear you say it."
His next thrust is sudden and hard. Heat floods across her thighs and up her belly, leaving her nipples tingling
"Tell me, One. Tell me."
"I want you to bend me over the helm and fuck me."
He kisses her hard, teeth grazing her lips and hands tangling in her hair.
"Gladly."
"One more thing. Take off your pants."
***
The helm is cold on her bare skin, but she doesn't mind the way it makes her nipples go hard and sends little shivers of goosebumps along her spine. She does mind how slow he's being. He stands behind her, pushing her legs open forcefully but slowly with his knees, spreading her open wide -- but slowly -- with his fingers. She groans a little with frustration. She'd asked for this, she knew; the whole point of a man bending her over and fucking her like this was to be out of control for once. But she hadn't counted on how much he liked to tease her.
His breath is hot in her ear when he bends over to whisper, "You know how much I love making you mad?"
"Fuck you," she hisses back and regrets it immediately when he laughs.
"Interesting word choice. I thought it was going to be the other way around."
His cock is right there, right against her opening, but he's not inside. She bucks against him and feels satisfied to hear his sharp intake of breath. He slides inside her deep...and stops moving.
"Dammit, Chris," she snaps. "Fuck me."
"You're only making this more fun."
She squeezes him tight and his fingers tighten involuntarily around her hips. He still doesn't move except to lean closer to her ear.
"I just want to know how long."
"How long what?"
"How long you've wanted this."
He's moving inside her now, soft and slow, bringing back a flood of mental images and fantasies she's stored up the last nine years. She can't pick out what had made her want him first. Maybe the time on the edge of the DMZ when he'd bluffed an armada of Klingon warbirds into thinking he had them outgunned. Or maybe it was Denos III, when she'd watched him stand up and get beaten down a dozen times to try to reach a fallen ensign. Maybe it was the first time he'd handed the Yorktown over to her command and she could see in his eyes that he trusted her with his ship just as much as he trusted himself.
His stomach is warm against her back, and his fingers trail down her sides, leaving behind a path of goosebumps. She is so lost here, so absorbed in his slow and steady rhythm, that she forgets the question until he whispers again, "tell me."
"Forever," she says finally, and it feels true even if it technically isn't. She thrusts back into him hard and he moans into her ear, so she does it again. They are moving together now, him thrusting into her fast and hard, her thrusting back with equal force. She is inches from going over the edge, but she wants to know too, and she forces herself to slow.
"Now you tell me." Her voice sounds ragged even in her own ears. "You tell me how long you've wanted me."
He thrusts deep and holds it for a moment.
"God, One, ever since the first time I saw you. It didn't take any longer than that to know you were different from any woman I'd ever met before."
His hands snake underneath her to tease her nipples. She gasps, and he pushes one of his fingers into her mouth. She licks the length of it, leaving behind smudges of the red lipstick she'd worn to the ceremony. The little moan she makes when her lips slide over the top of it should be embarrassing, but it's not, not when Chris is gasping even harder than she is.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks, barely getting the last words out as his finger, slick with her saliva, traces small circles around her nipple.
"I thought you deserved better than that."
"Better than you?"
"Better than to be lusted after by some lecherous hump of a captain."
"That's not who you are."
She hears the fire in her voice, a bit more passion than she had intended. She still remembers him stepping onto the transporter pad, saying "the ship is yours" for the first time as if he hadn't a care in the world. No one had ever respected her more, and she wants to tell him that, to defend him against his own accusations just as surely as she would defend him against anyone else's.
But she can practically hear him smirking now, the same way he always does when he gets a rise out of her. His hands trace her flanks from shoulder to hip, and he gives her ass a little smack that earns him a poisonous glance. He is, of course, grinning despite her glare.
"Not a lecherous hump?" He asks, laughter in his voice. "You sure about that?"
He's going to pay for that. She clenches herself around him as tightly as she can, pushing back along the length of him as agonizingly slowly as she can. She turns to look at him with hooded eyes.
"Clearly I misjudged you." Still squeezing herself around him, she slides forward again.
"Two can play this game," he mutters into her ear, and she loves the laughter in his voice. She arches up against him as he bends over her again, pinning her against the console, moving slowly back and forth inside her.
"God, One, do you know how many times we would have done this if I had had any idea you wanted me?" He brushes her hair aside to suck languidly at the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. His fingers trail through her hair, and she leans into the touch.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers. His hand skims along her side and over the top of her thigh until it finally settles onto her clit, stroking soft circles to contrast with the firmness of his thrusts.
"Come for me."
And she will; she can't resist. She feels her muscles rippling around him, her toes curling into the floor. But there's one last thing.
"No," she whispers. "I want to come with you."
And so he slows one last time, giving himself a chance to catch up to her arousal. His hands settle on top of hers. They are big and warm and rough and calloused, the hands of man who'd grown up on a ranch and now troubles his chief engineer by doing repairs himself. She'd imagined that, but she hadn't known it, and these are the small details she savors as she listens to him coming apart behind her. Each of his gasps and moans she meets with one of her own, until finally she cannot distinguish their voices, and they are both coming now, together on the bridge one last time.
Author: igrockspock
Pairing: Pike/Number One
Rating: NC-17
Summary: One is no stranger to taking chances and fighting for what she wants, but there's one thing she's never told her captain. On the night she takes command of the Yorktown, she decides to remedy that.
She has been captain of the Yorktown for two hours and thirty six minutes, not that she's been counting. He sits beside her at the helm, completing the final formality of transferring all his access codes and passwords to her. Most people did this before the official promotion ceremony, but she had wanted these last few moments on the empty bridge with him. He had wanted it too; he must have, or he simply would have told her that they'd do it before the ceremony. It isn't what she'd wanted all these years, not even close, but it feels good. She feels good. Being the captain of a starship blots out all other regrets.
They walk to the turbolift side by side. They'd risen from their seats together and fallen into step wordlessly and automatically. This is the last time, she thinks, the last time they will ever do this. Being captain of a starship also makes her sentimental, apparently. But she knows there's no trace of it on her face when she turns to look at him, although she isn't sure now whether that's a blessing or a curse.
"I relieve you," she says, although she'd said it already at the ceremony.
"I am relieved," he echoes softly. She'd become captain the moment he'd said it. She doesn't allow herself to update her count of the minutes that have passed since then.
Her eyes flick to the control panel to watch the progress of the turbolift toward the bridge. It's still down in engineering; it runs slow when the ship -- her ship -- is powered down in space dock. When the doors finally open, he is standing close to her. Closer than a friend, further away than a lover. As always. The skin of her arms prickles at the proximity. Another sensation she's not going to feel again any time soon.
"After you," he says, gesturing toward the waiting lift. "Captain."
She smiles in spite of herself. Being called that feels good. She still doesn't step inside the lift.
"Come on, she'll still be here tomorrow. I'll buy you a drink," he offers, mistaking her hesitation for reluctance to leave her new ship. He isn't totally wrong; she does want to spend her first night as captain on board. She just doesn't want to spend it alone. She hits the button to shut the door.
He smiles good-naturedly.
"Look, if you want to spend the night in the captain's chair, I won't tell anyone. But you're going to have to let me off sometime."
She wills herself to look him in the eye while she taps her new captain's code into the security lock on the control panel.
"Yes," she agrees. "But not right now."
"Did you just lock the bridge?"
"Yes," she says again, her voice smooth and level no matter how hard her heart is pounding.
"Because?"
She wills her voice to hold steady. Her palms are sweaty. She can't remember the last time that happened to her. Possibly never. She's never had a last chance like this before, a last chance to be with a man she's wanted for what feels like forever. Rationalizing herself out of this would be easy; she's been doing it for the two months since she found out the ship would be hers. At first, she had told herself that she would just wait another day; now, she could tell herself that she'll see again him in a month or a maybe a year, and she ought to let their long distance friendship settle before she risks shaking it up. But that's not how Starfleet works. She's said casual goodbyes to more than one friend, not realizing it was the last time she'd see them alive. She breathes in deep. She has to say it.
"Because I want to have sex all over the bridge, and I don't intend to be interrupted. Sir." She has no idea what's going to happen now, but god, saying it is a relief. If she gets nothing else from this night, she got to call him sir while propositioning him. One fantasy she can finally check off her list, even if he's no longer her superior.
She can't bring herself to look him in the eye, but she thinks she sees shock on his face. Not horror, at least, and he hadn't laughed, so her worst fears haven't materialized. But he isn't moving toward her either. That's fine, she thinks, just fine. She's come this far; she can see it through to the end. She takes a step forward, blotting out all thought of consequences the same way she had when she'd set her phaser to overload on Talos IV.
"To be clear, I wanted to have sex with you all over the bridge." She takes another step. "I could do it by myself, but that wouldn't be nearly as fun." And then, since she is committed now, she pushes him against the bulkhead and kisses him as hard as she can. This had never been part of her fantasies; as much as she likes being in charge, she'd always wanted him to be the one to pin her against the wall. Not that this is really anything to complain about. She can feel every inch of his hard muscles against her body, and she likes the way he slumps defenselessly beneath her. It's really a shame that she needs to breathe.
He is panting hard when she finally pulls back.
"I had a dozen witty responses to that." His voice is rough between the long, raspy breaths, just the way she likes it. "But you drove them all out of my head."
She raises both her eyebrows.
"So what do you say, sir? About the sex?"
Then her back hits the bulkhead with a thud, and his whole weight is pressing her against the wall. His teeth graze her lips; his hand skims over her breast. She spreads her legs wider, the better to feel his hardness against her. For the first time in her entire Starfleet career, she wishes she were wearing that godawful mini-dress. Then he could simply yank off her underwear, or better yet, shove it to the side, and he'd be inside her. Quick, simple, hard, and hot, and no chance at all for second thoughts. Now, though, he needs to pull off the tight uniform pants, and to do that, he'll have to bend down to take off the boots. Every second before he is inside of her is a chance for this to turn awkward, for their minds to seize control of their bodies, for all nine years of her fantasies to die and take their friendship with them.
It's the last thought that stings the worst, even while she is sucking on his earlobes and nipping his jaw. Though she scarcely admits it, even to herself, this one night is not nearly all she wants. What they could have is far greater than the sex fantasies she's allowed herself on lonely nights, but what she truly wants is not permitted to Starfleet officers who've married their ships. This is as much as she can have, and while he tugs on her hair and sucks on her bottom lip, she does not find it at all inadequate.
The boots, thank god, are not the obstacle she'd imagined. She teeters as she tries to pull the left one off using her right foot, but that only forces her to lean harder against his body, and he wraps a strong arm around her hips to keep her from falling. The truth is, it's easy. She gets her boots off, he gets rid of her pants, she pulls his shirt over his head and studies his mussed hair with satisfaction. He lifts her easily, and she wraps her legs around his hips.
"Now," she breathes into his ear, digging her fingernails into the bare skin of his shoulder.
"Yes," he answers, and they both moan together when slides inside her.
Their bodies move together naturally, as if this is the thousandth time they've done this instead of the first. It is as wild and wanton as she had ever wanted, but it is also fun in a way that she hadn't expected. She laughs against his neck, and he pulls back for a second to look her in the face.
"I like it when you do that."
"Laugh? Or proposition you?"
"Both."
He thrusts in deeper and harder, and she throws her head back and gasps, barely feeling the pain of her head striking the metal bulkhead. He keeps up the relentless thrusts, and she can feel herself about to go over the edge, but one thing is missing. Her eyes lock on the helm console over his shoulder even though she can't stop moaning into his ear.
His thrusts slow instantly, pulling her back from the edge.
"Tell me," he whispers into her ear. "Whatever you want, I want to give it."
"The helm. I always wanted you to..."
Her voice falters; in all her years of fantasies, she had never actually imagined that herself saying this out loud. She's never spoken to a man this way before, never imagined that he would be the first.
"I was hoping you'd know."
He laughs against her neck, pauses a moment to suck at the skin there.
"I think I do know." His voice is a slow, deliberate drawl in her ear. "But I really want to hear you say it."
His next thrust is sudden and hard. Heat floods across her thighs and up her belly, leaving her nipples tingling
"Tell me, One. Tell me."
"I want you to bend me over the helm and fuck me."
He kisses her hard, teeth grazing her lips and hands tangling in her hair.
"Gladly."
"One more thing. Take off your pants."
***
The helm is cold on her bare skin, but she doesn't mind the way it makes her nipples go hard and sends little shivers of goosebumps along her spine. She does mind how slow he's being. He stands behind her, pushing her legs open forcefully but slowly with his knees, spreading her open wide -- but slowly -- with his fingers. She groans a little with frustration. She'd asked for this, she knew; the whole point of a man bending her over and fucking her like this was to be out of control for once. But she hadn't counted on how much he liked to tease her.
His breath is hot in her ear when he bends over to whisper, "You know how much I love making you mad?"
"Fuck you," she hisses back and regrets it immediately when he laughs.
"Interesting word choice. I thought it was going to be the other way around."
His cock is right there, right against her opening, but he's not inside. She bucks against him and feels satisfied to hear his sharp intake of breath. He slides inside her deep...and stops moving.
"Dammit, Chris," she snaps. "Fuck me."
"You're only making this more fun."
She squeezes him tight and his fingers tighten involuntarily around her hips. He still doesn't move except to lean closer to her ear.
"I just want to know how long."
"How long what?"
"How long you've wanted this."
He's moving inside her now, soft and slow, bringing back a flood of mental images and fantasies she's stored up the last nine years. She can't pick out what had made her want him first. Maybe the time on the edge of the DMZ when he'd bluffed an armada of Klingon warbirds into thinking he had them outgunned. Or maybe it was Denos III, when she'd watched him stand up and get beaten down a dozen times to try to reach a fallen ensign. Maybe it was the first time he'd handed the Yorktown over to her command and she could see in his eyes that he trusted her with his ship just as much as he trusted himself.
His stomach is warm against her back, and his fingers trail down her sides, leaving behind a path of goosebumps. She is so lost here, so absorbed in his slow and steady rhythm, that she forgets the question until he whispers again, "tell me."
"Forever," she says finally, and it feels true even if it technically isn't. She thrusts back into him hard and he moans into her ear, so she does it again. They are moving together now, him thrusting into her fast and hard, her thrusting back with equal force. She is inches from going over the edge, but she wants to know too, and she forces herself to slow.
"Now you tell me." Her voice sounds ragged even in her own ears. "You tell me how long you've wanted me."
He thrusts deep and holds it for a moment.
"God, One, ever since the first time I saw you. It didn't take any longer than that to know you were different from any woman I'd ever met before."
His hands snake underneath her to tease her nipples. She gasps, and he pushes one of his fingers into her mouth. She licks the length of it, leaving behind smudges of the red lipstick she'd worn to the ceremony. The little moan she makes when her lips slide over the top of it should be embarrassing, but it's not, not when Chris is gasping even harder than she is.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks, barely getting the last words out as his finger, slick with her saliva, traces small circles around her nipple.
"I thought you deserved better than that."
"Better than you?"
"Better than to be lusted after by some lecherous hump of a captain."
"That's not who you are."
She hears the fire in her voice, a bit more passion than she had intended. She still remembers him stepping onto the transporter pad, saying "the ship is yours" for the first time as if he hadn't a care in the world. No one had ever respected her more, and she wants to tell him that, to defend him against his own accusations just as surely as she would defend him against anyone else's.
But she can practically hear him smirking now, the same way he always does when he gets a rise out of her. His hands trace her flanks from shoulder to hip, and he gives her ass a little smack that earns him a poisonous glance. He is, of course, grinning despite her glare.
"Not a lecherous hump?" He asks, laughter in his voice. "You sure about that?"
He's going to pay for that. She clenches herself around him as tightly as she can, pushing back along the length of him as agonizingly slowly as she can. She turns to look at him with hooded eyes.
"Clearly I misjudged you." Still squeezing herself around him, she slides forward again.
"Two can play this game," he mutters into her ear, and she loves the laughter in his voice. She arches up against him as he bends over her again, pinning her against the console, moving slowly back and forth inside her.
"God, One, do you know how many times we would have done this if I had had any idea you wanted me?" He brushes her hair aside to suck languidly at the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. His fingers trail through her hair, and she leans into the touch.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers. His hand skims along her side and over the top of her thigh until it finally settles onto her clit, stroking soft circles to contrast with the firmness of his thrusts.
"Come for me."
And she will; she can't resist. She feels her muscles rippling around him, her toes curling into the floor. But there's one last thing.
"No," she whispers. "I want to come with you."
And so he slows one last time, giving himself a chance to catch up to her arousal. His hands settle on top of hers. They are big and warm and rough and calloused, the hands of man who'd grown up on a ranch and now troubles his chief engineer by doing repairs himself. She'd imagined that, but she hadn't known it, and these are the small details she savors as she listens to him coming apart behind her. Each of his gasps and moans she meets with one of her own, until finally she cannot distinguish their voices, and they are both coming now, together on the bridge one last time.