Archive of Our Own

The night after their adventures in the musical reality, Uhura found herself alone, lying in her bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep but for the combination of inconsiderate thoughts and catchy as hell tunes running through her head.

One of the first lessons you receive at the Academy is that the universe runs on a modified Murphy’s law: weird shit will happen in space, and it will always be far weirder than you would ever expect. That is why the academy curriculum has such a strong emphasis on lateral thinking and creative problem solving, as well as constantly encouraging the development of a wide range of interests and esoteric skills. You literally will never know what will end up being useful.

It is that training that is keeping her up, because if you think about it, the musical reality didn’t really make sense? She was the catalyst, in theory, as it was her choice of song that started the whole thing. Spock is a musician himself, even if he pretends he only reads it for the articles, and Pelia knows enough about the mathematics of the situation enough to have recommended harmonics in the first place, but she’s the one who picked the song and chose something from a musical. Subspace is still an unknown-unknown, of course, but for everything they know about the laws of space and time and music…it just wouldn't work like that?!

Uhura sits up and frowns to an invisible audience. Even musicals don't work like that! Yes, technically, some do, but it's not all musicals, in fact, musical theatre is a very broad genre, and really the logic, as it was, wasn’t the presiding logic of all but a few decades of the musical genre.

But as her lecturer said, just because something doesn’t make sense doesn't stop it from happening, which is another lesson they teach you early on at the Academy. Sometimes your hypothesis saves the day, sometimes you manage to tease it out from a few iterations and some equations, but sometimes it is as frustrating as when the politician asked Charles Babbage of his famous machine whether it was possible to put the wrong numbers in and get the right answer out.

Uhura pulls up her PADD and flicks to her last listened song. The Great American Songbook is the foundation of her love of music. She had no better singing teachers growing up than Ella, Billie, Julie, Etta and Nina.

Anything Goes is indeed a very good title. Cole Porter was onto something there.

Uhura flops back down and frowns, letting the music wash over her, but ugh, she cannot let it go. She presses play and listens to the first chorus, tapping her nails against the case, mind whirling about the illogic of the day. It's not like they even started singing in a Cole Porter style! Nothing about this makes sense!

It wasn’t as simple as the subspace fold knew what they were going for. It can’t be that. There must be something else.

Uhura searches her PADD files again, expanding out into her private storage. Two files pop up.

Anything Goes - from the off Broadway musical Anything Goes - Eileen Rogers.mp7. A normal musical file available through Starfleet’s subscription to the general Federation music service.

But there’s another file there and when she sees it, her blood runs cold.

anything_goes.avi

There’s only a few bits of ‘personal’ video on her PADD. Generally there’s an unspoken rule that if you need that kind of video, you can find it pretty easily, but Enterprise does very deep space missions. Sometimes you need something familiar to take the edge off.

The point stands, even after they have saved the day, that there is the possibility of another reality. She could have searched, and sent the wrong file with the flick of a finger, and now she has broached it in her mind, the thought makes her flush in the darkness of her room. She rolls over, hiding the PADD out of sight, pulling her pillow over her face. She should follow her training, repeat the mantras: we cannot know why these things happen. Perhaps one day, but for now, there will be another mystery tomorrow. She must sleep, and not think about how different things could have been...

The wave passes through the ship and the first thing that changes is the lighting. It gets...redder, somehow. Hot. If it was possible for a light to throb, it would be. Immediately, despite himself, Jim feels himself start to sweat. Strange, considering the Enterprise has state of the art atmospherics, and he has done nothing more strenuous than a gentle walk along a corridor.

Jim looks over at La'an, who up until now he had been enjoying some minor flirtation with in the usual way, nothing personal, just habit at this point. Nothing wrong with keeping your options open with cute lieutenants across the fleet. La’an looks at him, and there is something weird there, some glint in her eyes, some dewiness to her skin. Not sweating, per se, but she looks different. He can’t put his finger on it.

The security office she leads him to is down the hall from the turbolift shafts, and she opens the door and gestures for him to enter.

The offices of the Enterprise are mostly identical to those on every other large ship he’s served on, and while La’an doesn’t strike him as the type who goes in for decorating, it's impossible to be head of security and not pick up a few interesting tchotchkes and in this case La’an is no different. The walls are lined with humorous contraband, of course, amongst the glinting stainless steel and leather you would expect for someone of her rank and responsibility. The room is under furnished save the desk, chair, the customary a low couch lining one wall, although he can’t help but fail to notice the main feature; a big leather armchair, which La’an takes a seat in.

“Mister Kirk, I feel like we were here just a few weeks ago. And yet, my records say that we only did the bare minimum security clearance. In fact, records state overall that you are behind in your mandatory declarations across the board,” she says, her finger tracing his record with languid sensuality.

He swallows. “Well, I know you're a stickler for a complete security record, ma’am,” he says. “We have some time. We should bring it all up to date.”

La'an nods and crosses her legs. “Let's begin easy. Confirm your name, rank, serial number and current assignment.”

He smirks. “James Tiberius Kirk. Lieutenant, pending confirmation of my promotion to Lieutenant Commander. Serial number JK6348723-H. Currently head of security, USS Farragut, but for now, I’m whatever you need me to be, assigned to USS Enterprise.”

La’an nods. “The voice print matches. Security clearance level?”

“Alpha blue,” he says.

“And the last time you orgasmed?” She asks, not missing a beat.

He blinks. “That's a…very personal question,” he says.

“It's here on the form. Sexual history and health. All up to date, including your sexual predilections, known conquests, known pregnancies caused, congratulations, by the way, your new birth control, STI screens. Only thing missing is your last known orgasm, look.”

She turns the screen and true enough, there is a field marked as such, highlighted in red.

He clasps his hands behind his back. “It was this morning,” he says. “In the shower. Left hand, for a change, and I took it slow. Treated myself. Thought about an ex girlfriend, remembering the time I fucked her by the side of a busy road, where anyone could have seen us. It's good to take some time for yourself when you can, right, lieutenant?”

It may be awkward, but he enjoys the way she blushes as she types out into the record how he fucked his fist.

“And where did your um, ejaculate end up?” she asks, and he gives her credit for how much control she has over her blushing.

“Initially over my fist, but ultimately down the drain. Starfleet doesn't need to worry about me getting more officers pregnant. Not right now, anyway,” he adds, and puts a bit of tension into it, because they’re both thinking about the list right now.

La’an taps a final few times, and then puts down the PADD and cocks her head at him, a tiny smile playing around her lips.

“All seems to be in order, then,” she says. “But we’re not done, not yet.”

“What else do you need?” he asks, and she smirks at him.

“You're a security officer, Mister Kirk”, she says. “I doubt I have to tell you the correct procedure for coming on duty in a new ship.”

“No ma'am,” he says. “I'm sure you'll find my adherence to procedure and protocol is something I’ve been widely commended for..”

“I'll be the judge of that,” she says, and spreads her legs for him.

It's a bit performative, really, as she needs to take off her leggings first for full effect, but Jim knows how to do this like the back of his hand.

He demonstrates proper Starfleet procedure by dropping to his knees, digging his fingers into the waistband and pulling her free of her uniform and getting his face wet as quickly and efficiently as possible. It isn’t very difficult; she’s soaking wet, probably from imagining how he’d started his day. She whimpers as he licks her broadly, keeps going as she buries her hands in his hair, until he has fully demonstrated his skill and adaptability.

Then, when she's soft and primed and mewling like a kitten at every brush of his teeth against her most sensitive skin, he lifts her up and bends her over the desk, undoes his flies with one hand and slides into her, just right in, shockingly balls deep. She's extremely wet, as protocol demands, but she's also extremely tight, as tight as those braids he wraps around his hand as he fucks into her, and he feels like he has to wedge her open, push her limits even though she is begging for it. For all her posturing about being the perfect officer he can tell she's obviously lacking in performing this duty, and when he leans over to give her his report, that he doesn't think the enterprises security chief is doing her job vetting everyone as she should, he feels her come against his cock, his teeth in her neck, and he shoots a fat load into her, just as the regulations dictate.

“Thank you, Lieutenant”, she says after she's cleaned his cock off with her mouth, and he's pushed his semen back inside her where it belongs, and then fingered her to another high, breathy orgasm just because he can. High achievers never stop, that's how he has got where he has at such a young age. He sucks his fingers absently, enjoying their combined taste, and considers going again. It would do her good, at the very least.

Unfortunately, they are interrupted by Pike’s voice calling for a status report over the intercom, and they share a guilty look and sprint for the door, pulling their clothes back into place as they go.

They arrive on the bridge to find nothing less than a full orgy in progress. Pike’s in the chair, as he should be at a time like this, and the other consoles are fully manned, if you can call it that, and even Ortegas and Mitchell are at the conn and nav. Well, Mitchell is spread out on the nav, and Ortegas has her head buried between her legs, but they're at their stations, which is what matters.

Una is busy doing her main job, which is assisting the Captain, and he looks like he needs it. He has his pants open to expose himself, and he looks in dire need of help; his dick huge and almost purple where it lies against his jersey.

Una doesn't have the reputation for being the most experienced and desired XO in the fleet for nothing, and well, Jim has to ask her for tips on how to deepthroat a cock so well. Pike looks down at her with pride and affection as she meets his eyes and sucks him expertly, works his cock, fucks him down her throat, all while he also watches the show in front of him, the glimmering ribbon of the subspace fold backlighting Mitchell's orgasmic face as she is expertly teased and fucked for his pleasure and approval. His eyes flutter close and Jim and La'an watch as he unloads down his XO’s throat neatly and comfortably, as she massages his balls, large and soft, with her off hand, ensuring she gets every drop.

Over by the con, Mitchell comes, and Ortegas slips to the floor, looking fucked out but extremely turned on, and one by one, each of the stations around the bridge reach orgasm, and in the aftermath of heavy breathing and dripping sweat, what can only be described as the worst case of post nut clarity washes over the crew of the bridge.

“What the fuck?” Ortegas says, looking wide eyed at the rest of her colleagues.

“Ready room. Now.” Pike says, firmly, not looking at anyone, just staring at the rippling opaline ribbon on the viewscreen.

Spock, Uhura and Pelia join them a few minutes later, followed almost immediately by the medical team, most of whom Jim has yet to meet. From the telling of all their rumpled clothing, swollen lips and looks of surprise, this wasn't confined to the bridge and security offices.

The doctor looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, but Jim can tell from here that his fingers are still shiny from being inside someone's cunt, and he'd guess the tall blonde nurse from the way she's staring at them like she's never seen the likes of them before.

At the presentation position, Spock stands tall and manages to look the most put together, his famously butter wouldn't melt demeanour mostly present save for a smear of dark lipstick against his neck, and it is impossible to miss that it matches the smudges around Uhura’s mouth. Good for her, he thinks, with a pang of jealousy.

Jim listens as Spock explains that they sent a data file through the fold, and somehow they dislodged something.

“A pornographic reality?” Pike asks sceptically, as if his semen isn’t currently coating his XO’s throat.

“Not just any pornographic reality,” Spock says, somehow bringing up a graphic, “a genre of pornography known by several names, such as free use, low boundaries or the stupid slut reality. It resembles, at its height, a feeding frenzy, where anyone and everyone can and will copulate for the most flimsy of reasons.”

Pike frowns. “So if we're following the rules of this reality, and...anything goes…we're all going to just fuck each other?”

They all digest this.

“I don't want to fuck all of you,” the doctor, who Jim assumes is CMO M’Benga, moans, but it rings hollow since almost as if she hasn’t noticed it, La'an has her hand working his dick. By the look of it she is doing a damn good job of it. A flicker of scientific thought trips across Jim’s mind: Is everyone on this ship hung like an equine, or is his sample just too small so far to tell?

“We may need to,” Spock says, bringing up the image of the subspace disturbance. “We have got caught in the fold. The more we move, the more it spreads open.”

La'an slips under the table at that, taking M’Benga into her mouth, and they all politely watch as she sucks him down, waiting for him to finish.

“I think it looks like a pussy, might it not act like a pussy?” Pelia says, wandering over from the corner. Her uniform is unzipped, and Jim can't help but look at her appreciatively. She might be a couple of thousand years old, but her tits are fantastic. Thankfully, someone, he's not sure who, buries their head between them, saving him a job.

“An intriguing theory,” Spock says. “Considering everything else, perhaps we have become caught in a mating urge of some kind. It may be that we need to make the rift come to orgasm. We should attempt to find the clitoris.” He tilts his head, “Or something comparable. The prostate, perhaps.”

“Okay”, Pike says, standing up and pushing Spock down onto the table with one hand while undoing his flies with the other. “Let's get started. You know what to do. All dismissed.”

The rest of the team leaves, but Jim decides to stay and help. Spock really was very impressive, and it's important for Jim to make sure he feels appreciated.

Spock is laid out over the narrow width of the table, his ass up against the edge, his feet on Pike's shoulders as he is prepared to be thoroughly railed by the captain, something which Jim is quite apprehensive about doing later. Pike is packing, and Jim wonders if maybe he isn’t cut out for first officer duty after all. Spock seems to be perfect for it, though, taking Pikes monster inside him with no problems, looking dreamily pleased as Pike batters him from the off with deep, powerful thrusts.

Jim feels bad for just watching, so he decides to help by holding Spock in place, giving him something to brace against, and feeding him his dick from his place of safety. Spock’s mouth is boiling and his throat tight and grasping, and even though he only came twenty minutes ago at most, Jim cannot hold on, and he fucks Spock’s face until he's sloppy and gasping, trying his best to match the captain’s rhythm until he comes hard down Spock’s throat with a pleased gasp.

Spock raises an eyebrow at his captain, and in reply Pike hitches up his legs and bends him in half, rams a couple of fingers alongside his dick, and Spock throws back his head and moans as he comes alongside his captain, his big green dick spitting out over his uniform and Jim’s helping hand.

Pike pulls out and leaves Spock looking fucked out and dazed on the conference table, but Jim's here to learn, so even though it defies reason, he lines himself up and slides home, hard as a fucking sheet of steel, and so sensitive it all feels so much, the hot throb of Spock's ass clutch around him in an entirely alien way, the wetness that cannot be denied that he’s not the first one in here today a thrill more than anything.

Jim’s already come twice this morning, that’s not even mentioning his quick and efficient jerk off in the shower. By all reckoning he should be in need of a protein shake and a nap before he can get anywhere near hard again, but whatever is causing this bacchanal makes him feel like he's 21, ready to go, and so he fucks Spock insensate, making sure to appreciate the view of Spock lying under him watching him back with his hooded eyes, his plush, ruined lips, sucking on his own fingers as Jim fucks him back to hardness and then through another of those copious green tinged orgasms. Spock closes his eyes when Jim groans and fills him, palms himself and lets out a weak final spurt of come, but every muscle seems to lock up with that final orgasm, and that drags Jim, somehow, over into another layer of coming he hadn’t even realised he had in him. It feels like the time he had a seizure, in all honesty, and when he comes out of it there are pins and needles in his hands and he feels wrung out.

“Nice work, Mister Kirk," Pike says, approvingly, from where he is reviewing files at his desk. “You’re both dismissed.”

They dress and leave the room, and before they part, Spock kisses him long and slow in thanks, his plush lips wet and tasting vaguely of stories Jim hopes to hear one day. He wants to be another of those stories, he thinks, before they part, Spock towards sciences and Jim off to find Una. There’s more shadowing to do.

“Are you going to open it?” Erica says to Christine. They’ve retreated back to sickbay to take more scans, or more, they will. M’Benga bought La’an with him, and is currently occupied railing her over a biobed, but even he looks over, annoyed, the next time the PADD chimes.

“I will. Okay. How bad can it be? I’ve dealt with rejection before.”

“Those Vulcans couldn’t appreciate you,” Erica says. “I’ve heard great things about their women, but the men are stuffy in the worst way. No offence to Spock or anything, or well, maybe some offence. Either way, you’d never get a decent drink or a decent fuck there, even in Shi’Kar.”

Christine acknowledges her wisdom and takes a deep breath, and opens the email. A whole story is told in the way her face splits open with joy, and she spins in place.

M’Benga wanders over at that point, stripping off his shirt and placing it on the side.

“Did you break her?” Erica says, nodding over at La’an, who is still spread out, her leggings around her ankles, breathing hard against the faux leather cushion of the biobed.

“She’ll be fine,” M’Benga says. “But feel free to go take a look if you want.” He looks over Christine’s shoulder at the contents of the email, and then kisses her, and she twists in his arms and kisses him back, glee written all over her face.

Erica takes that as the moment to wander over. “You alright?” she asks, stroking La’an’s head where it is pressed into the centre of the bed

La’an looks up, blearily. Her hair is coming out of its braids, and her uniform is half rucked up, her breasts covered in teeth marks but her nipples still pebbling in the cold sterile air.

“Come on, I might not be a doctor, but I’ll have a look anyway,” Erica jokes, helping La’an lie on the biobed and sliding her free of her uniform. She looks in a complete state, swollen and gaping open, but when Erica tries she can’t get more than a couple of fingers inside her. Her clit is so swollen; she hasn’t come, or more, she hasn’t come properly, not enough to satisfy the roiling beast inside. Erica raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, you have been neglected,” she says, before gently touching the swollen, exposed head of her clit. La’an howls and slams her legs shut to trap Erica’s hand against where she needs it, and Erica tsks. “Never send a man to do a woman’s job,” she says, coaxing La’an’s legs open and getting to work.

Jim finds Commander Chin-Riley near the access conduits. Their orders have filtered through to their assignments, and the two of them are rerouting the sensors to try and identify the sensitive spots of the fold.

Una is hard at work rerouting by the time he gets there, but he still greets her with a kiss, and her tongue still tastes of Pike’s spunk and he has to give it to her, that's hot as hell. God, he really does want to give it to her, but they have work to do, and Jim manages to suppress his desires long enough to reconnect the relay before asking Una to give him his first lesson as XO.

Una abides. “The first mistake new first officers make is in making it all about themselves. You have to learn that as XO, you are in a unique position in a crew; simultaneously the pressure valve for the Captain and the crew, the membrane that controls the flow of power and responsibility both up and down.”

She hefts the next conduit open with a strength that is extremely sexy. “And by the captain I don’t mean the man, but the symbol of the chair” she says as he slides back down to be on equal footing. “You have to let go of your ego and accept the fact that you are here to serve him, to make sure he has a clear head so he can make the difficult decisions. At the same time, you are the head of the crew, you are the ultimate authority, it is you that they go to when they have needs that can't be fulfilled elsewhere. Everyone from your second to the lowliest yeoman in the laundry is your responsibility.”

“I understand that,” Jim says, “but it seems like you have a real understanding of how to work Pike in particular. He has a very impressive nature.”

“Pike is one of the most decorated captains in the fleet, and he has a dick to match,” Una concedes. “I won't say it wasn't easy learning to take it. He's hard but fair, but you have to remember that he's not going to hurt you. Don’t misunderstand me, he'll make you take it, give you the hardest ride of your life, but that's the job, and ultimately he cares for everyone on the ship more than most other captains.”

She looks him up and down, appraisingly. “You want the truth? If you want to make captain one day, you have to learn to take it and to give it, and to know how to make the hard decisions of who to fuck and how to fuck them.”

Jim fists his hands in her hair and presses her against the bulkhead. “I think I can recognise one truth right now,” he croons into her ear. “I saw the Captain fuck your mouth on the bridge, but he wasn't even looking at you, was he? He was focused on the girl on girl action in front of him. Don’t get me wrong, it was hot as all hell, but it was your throat he came down without a thought. You deserve better, Commander. My brother says you're the best fuck in the fleet, that hes never served under a greater XO. I think the truth is you're so busy keeping the place running smoothly, you can’t even remember the the last time someone fucked you stupid? When did someone make you come so hard you lost your mind? Who sucked your clit until you begged them to stop?”

He feels Una shiver with arousal, but it is with command and authority that she meets his gaze and raises an eyebrow at him. “Why, do you think you're up for the job, Lieutenant?”

Jim doesn’t need to answer that with words, and instead he bends her over and grabs the ladder in the conduit and kicks her legs apart. She's not wearing leggings, and her cunt is beautiful, so wet, so neglected, and he slaps her ass and sets his jaw. How anyone could ever resist her, especially today, walking around flashing her beautiful ass and her fat pussy like she is, leggings long forgotten somewhere. It's a productivity hazard if he’s ever seen one.

He drops to his knees and wastes no time getting his point across; he sucks her until she gushes against his face, teases her until he can slide all the fingers of his hand inside her, pumps her wet and obscene as junior staff scuttle past, sneaking looks as they go. He takes his time; she’s so lush and wet and open, so good that he considers adding the thumb even though he knows he has big hands. But you don’t get where he is without taking some risks, and so he does. She deserves it after all.

He was right to follow his instincts; she takes his entire fist beautifully, throbs around his hand while she screams with it, so hot and alive and neglected, just a resource used by the whole crew with no one attending to her needs.

He fucks her with his fist gently, gently, teasing her ass with his other hand, as her cunt gushes down her thighs, enough that his other hand gets slick easily, and he wastes no time sliding two fingers inside her ass so he can rub his own knuckles gently, letting each bone and her squirming do the work of finding the sensitive points, and he grins as he feels her body lock up, she comes so hard he feels like he's going to lose his hand, like she's going to shatter every bone the way she grabs him and squeezes and can’t let go. Must be that Illyrian difference, he thinks, ducking down to suck her clit back into his mouth and really going for full marks.

He pulls his hands out once the contractions of her cunt slow to a flutter, and wastes no time ripping open her tunic to expose her fully. She is whimpering, so turned on she can only make little kittenish noises, now. “Fuck me, fuck me, I need it,” she says, her bright blue eyes staring up at him, and he does what he's told, puts it in her and grabs her hips and fucks her brutally hard and fast. She's so slick and so hot it feels like nothing else, certainly not like La'an did, she was wound so tight, like a vice, almost dangerous. By comparison, Una is lush, obscenely swollen, her ass and hips jiggling with each jerk of his hips against hers. He pulls out and spins her round so he can watch her tits jiggle as he fucks her, and it's better than even the view from the bridge. There are some great racks on this ship, that's for sure. Whoever was in charge of staffing is definitely an appreciator of the female form.

He rubs his fingers hard against Unas clit and she howls another oversensitive orgasm until tears stream down her face, her tongue slack with pleasure. Still, despite this, she reaches down and cups his balls gently, strokes him in a particular way he recognises as the same touch he saw her give Pike on the bridge, a subtle but very specific squeeze, and his orgasm rocks through him like he's been hit by a phaser, just pure pleasure from root to tip. He pulls out and allows his spunk to paint her tits and belly, and she looks a picture, spattered with his come up top and red and gaping open down below, the way she should look, the way she deserves to be at all times.

It takes a while to catch their breath, and he hears a sound round the corner; someone has been watching them. He can't really be fucked to care. He hopes they got what they needed out of it. He certainly did.

Back in her quarters La'an strips off her uniform and shakes herself loose. There is a swell of something, an awareness that the events of today might not be normal, but then another wave passes over, and she allows the thing to take her. She should open the door, there are a lot of needy crew members who she could, nay, should be servicing. Kirk was right, she has been neglecting her duties. Not to a dangerous extent, but enough that he'd been able to tell as soon as he slid inside her that she'd been keeping her legs shut a bit too much lately.

She goes over to her cupboard and pulls out the watch. Under the atmospherics of her quarters the metal is so cold, ice cold, and feels so good against her overheated skin. She thinks back to that stolen kiss on the streets of Toronto, how she wanted him to go further, to take what was his.

It should be easier now she's had the other Kirk, but instead there's another fantasy playing in her head that just won’t leave, like a song. Theirs was just a routine fuck, but damn, he's good at his job. She goes over to the bed and lies down, holding the watch against her belly and imagines being there with both of them. Jim Kirk, with his by the book regulation fuck, exactly as Starfleet teaches them as security officers, the kind she has had a thousand times. Making sure to do it exactly right, with a bit of flair. He made her come and then painted her insides with his spunk and it was so good, very good.

But James, James is from a different world. One at war, and La'an remembers the war. She was an Ensign on the Lexington, so scared and so alone and taking whatever comfort she could get. They'd all curl up together, after a battle, six to a room, and fuck like there'd be no tomorrow, until they couldn’t walk. He'd fuck like that, her James. A captain, a wartime captain especially, does things differently. La'an thinks of her own wartime captain, how nice he'd been, how he'd made time for all of them, and how she'd treasured the time he'd found her in the armoury and fucked her until she couldn't stand up anymore, thanking her for her service, for her sacrifice.

It's wrong to feel nostalgic for the war, or for James, but she presses the cold metal to her clit all the same and imagines the Kirks taking her apart. James would kiss her and slide thick and hot into her cunt, press his fingers to her clit and ride her from orgasm to orgasm, never stop kissing her and checking that she’s okay, that she was having a good time. Meanwhile, Jim wouldn't wait his turn, no, she saw him with Una. He'd take her slickness with confidence and use it to open her up until she was gaping and hot and then slide his dick into her arse without even asking, just to rub up against James' inside her. Maybe they'd even kiss each other, over her shoulder, caught and lost in the feeling of their dicks rubbing against each other, filling her up until she's dripping.

La'an comes, caught between her own hands, shaking so hard she feels like she's going to die. It doesn't seem to stop, she's worried she's caught in it, will never stop coming, but eventually it's fine, she feels her brain reboot, and extracts the slick and warm watch from between her thighs, and pads back over to deposit it back in its home.

A chill runs through her, realising what just happened, what it all means. She has to take this to the Captain. Anyone could have learned that secret. Her door was unlocked and they were within their rights to come and take her, and she could have told them it all. Would have given all her secrets away, without a second thought.

She finds Pike in a turbo lift and wastes no time telling him her findings, and when he reaches for his fly with his eyebrow raised she wriggles out of her leggings, embarrassed that she hadn’t taken the initiative. She’s so off today, it is embarrassing.

La’an holds onto the handle of the turbolift as the captain slides inside her and she explains their predicament, about how all this emotional and sexual stuff has a security element, but he looks sceptical. “You think this is a security hazard? This?” He gives her a hard thrust to punctuate his meaning.

“Sexual intimacy is one thing, but this is being compelled. We could admit anything,” she says, bouncing against his chest, his thighs slapping hard against her arse loudly. “Sir, Captain, you don't think this is weird? Even a little?”

The lift arrives on the bridge and everyone turns to look at them. Pike appears to think about it, but he doesn't stop, just keeps fucking into her, and she only knows he's come by the flood of warmth inside her, but then he puts her down then and exits the lift.

Perhaps, he says, but it seems like he isn't convinced.

“Captain, uh, we have a message from the Cayuga,” Uhura says, her hands flying over the board with excellent control, especially considering how hard Sam Kirk is giving it to her as she does it.

“On screen, Ensign,” Pike says, taking his seat.

The screen is filled with the beautiful face of Captain Batel, though she's a bit distracted. A dick, not very large but certainly making up for it with the way it's battering her, stretches her mouth. She taps its owner on the thigh and it pulls out, and she begins to jack him off while she addresses Pike.

“Captain, can we have a conversation in private, please?” She says, working the dick efficiently. She has beautiful hands.

“Marie, you're obviously busy, I'm going to call you back,” Pike says, as a hand comes back into frame, turning her face so that the dick can spit its load all over her.

She turns back, her face shining, dark eyes laced with pearly come that drips down her cheeks.

“No, Chris, you listen to me. We need to solve this problem. I won't have you disrespecting me like this. If you have a problem with going to Risa, just say so.”

Pike sighs. “It's very touristy. Is there anyone there who we haven't already fucked? We go to these places so often. I just want to go somewhere new, with new faces to fuck.”

Another dick comes into view, and Batel starts to suck it, and that's when La'an takes her cue and sneaks around Sam Kirk's pumping hips and presses the disconnect button.

“Oh my god,” Pike says. “Wait. How were they fucking? I thought that was just confined to us?”

“It's a risk,” La'an says, raising her voice over Sam's orgasmic moans, clutching Uhura's hand in reassurance as she passes. “We thought it was sexually transmitted. But it isn't. It has to be the rift, sir. It has to be.”

Pike stares at her, aghast.

“I need to go report to Spock,” Uhura says, as Sam slides out of her. She tries to smooth her skirt down her hips, but it's no use. She heads to the turbo lift and grips the handle, her thighs shiny and slick in the light.

Pike tells Una to bring him options, and instead she brings him Kirk and La’an.

“I want to fuck the rift,” he says. “I want to fucking go to town on it, hold it in place and ram everything we’ve got, even the entire ship if we have to into it until this is over, until it comes around us and we can go back to normal. This is too much,” he says, punctuating it with a thrust that causes Kirk to sputter and choke around his dick. He’d been enthusiastic to give his opinions, and he got on his knees and furrowed his brow quite flatteringly once Pike opened his trousers for his contribution.

“It might be prudent to test this on a small sample of the molecules,” La’an says, from her position on the cutting board. Chris has been sampling her, and she is delicious; he takes pride in how he can discern his own contributions to the mess between her legs, but she’s obviously been working hard today. She squeals as he rakes his teeth against the nub of her clit, then rubs the flat of his tongue hard against the very most exposed tip, where he knows she is most sensitive, where it will hurt as much as it will also make her come.

“I think La’an’s right,” Kirk says, muffled, his mouth full. Chris feels Una nod against his hip; she’s down guiding this young buck in how to do her job, and he loves her for that, that she is really the best person to put any of these upstarts right. He feels her adjust young Kirk’s head and then he feels the fat, quite daunting head that had up to now been thoroughly battering Kirk’s soft palate shift and notch into the space behind, the noise that young Kirk makes is brutally beautiful, and Pike nods, feels Una reach underneath and press his own weak spot, the soft and much abused space behind his balls that goes right where he cannot stand to be touched other than here, and he pulls out and shoots his come across Kirk’s lips.

“Do it,” he says, and pulls Una up and kisses her over Kirk’s insulted face, and feels glorious. “Kirk, finish La'an and then go help her solve this. I have something to work over with Una.”

He leads Una away to the lounge, and only barely notices Kirk sliding inside La’an with a look of responsibility on his spunk splattered face.

Uhura finds Spock in the labs, watching two of his underlings suck each other off.

Ensign, good to see you, he says. She hands him her tricorder.

“You are attempting to identify if there are any hormonic changes when the trysts begin. Impressive,” he says, sliding the zipper of her dress down. Her breasts burst out, and he takes a nipple in his mouth as he continues to read.

Uhura hops up onto the table and lies back to give him more options.

“What we need is to find a group of people who aren't yet fucking,” he says, as he slides his dick between her tits and holds them so he can fuck them more efficiently.

“I think I have an idea,” Uhura says, but it has to wait, because Spock starts to alternate between sliding between her tits and into her hot wet mouth, and it is very distracting. The atmospherics are set to be very cold, and it makes her nipples so tight. Spock pinches them hard, worrying them between his fingers as he thinks. His dick is drooling heavily into her mouth, but ultimately he pulls out and comes over her tits. His vaguely green iridescent come looks good against her skin.

“I think I know where we can go,” he says, striding towards the door.

Uhura looks at her dress, and shrugs, and runs after him. There doesn't really seem to be much point, today.

Logic would dictate that the port galley would be the biggest orgy on the ship, but by the time they get there it's positively chaste. Christine is there, alongside Sam and Erica, and maybe a dozen or so odd duty lieutenants. They're in various states of undress, but no one is currently fucking anyone else.

Uhura pulls out her tricorder as Spock walks over to Christine, who is sitting on a bar stool naked and beautiful, and spins her round, pulling her back just enough to slide inside her.

“Spock!” She says, moaning. “Hi. Could we do this later, perhaps? I was just about to help Sam with something.”

“It's okay,” Sam says, and he's rubbing his dick, watching them. Erica turns to a woman in command yellow, and drops to her knees.

Uhura keeps her finger on the sensor as she watches Sam pull that thick dick of his out and feeds it to Christine, who moans around it.

“It's worked,” Uhura notices. The hormone levels in the room have spiked to an interesting level. Around them, everyone seems to be getting into the mood. Even the bartender has a go, playing with her tits as she bends over for one of the nurses as he rails her from behind. These barstools are fantastic. they really put you in the right position.

The bartender and the nurse swap places, and Erica even has a go, sliding her fingers inside her and making her jiggle, but on the next barstool Spock is refusing to let anyone else fuck Christine, even as he's already come and is rapidly wilting. She looks bored, even as Sam looks like he might die if he doesn't get inside someone, and Uhura feels a pang of guilt that she isn't there, but it's not like she isn't stuffed full herself right now. There's only so much dick a girl can realistically take.

It ends when Christine pushes Spock away. “No, Spock,” she says, and he looks like he's been slapped. He steps back, watching as Sam slides into where he just was, and Christine's eyes flutter shut, and Uhura doesn't see him go. The nurse and the bartender distract her by coming on her face long enough that she has to close her eyes, and when she reopens them, Spock is gone.

La’an manages to lose Kirk thanks to her knowledge of the ship, and so intercepts Una as she returns to her office.

“Sir, about that latest order from the captain. I must invoke statute 4 of the Officer’s code of conduct.”

“You've never refused a fuck before, La'an,” Una says, concerned. “Are you okay? You aren't acting like yourself.”

La’an gestures around them, “I'm not. None of us are. We've never fucked this much, Una. We aren't that kind of ship.”

“Just because you and I haven't,” Una says. “Though I always thought that was because you thought of me as a mother figure.”

La'an gasps, scandalised. “Una…how can you say that? You're a MILF figure. Not my mother. Not at all.”

Unas face softens. “It means so much for you to say that,” she says.

And that is when the years of strange, weird tension between them just snaps; La’an steps in, standing on her tiptoes and Una leans down and they kiss, full of so much that has been left unsaid between them in so many years. They kiss like that until Una winces and pulls back. “My neck,” she says, apologetically.

La’an rubs hers in sympathy. “Mine too. But there’s ways we can get around it,” she says, seductively.

The floor is rough Starfleet default carpet, and while Una is very sure that she can make that work to her advantage, instead she feels a wicked grin grab hold of her.”

Seizing her PADD from her desk and opening the environmentals, Una watches as La’an gasps as she feels herself start to rise from the floor.

Una pulls her tunic off and grabs La’an just as the last of the gravity fades, and then they’re in zero-g, wrapped around each other, swimming in the air, the height difference now as negligible as every other reason they shouldn’t be doing this.

Turning off the gravity makes La'an feel like she's drunk, and it is strange to be eye-to-eye with Una after a lifetime of having to look up, but Una's hands on her hips keep her grounded. She loves the way that Una hooks an arm over the light fixture so as to strip her more effectively, spinning La’an in mid-air to get a better grip on her.

“Let go,” La’an begs, but Una just laughs and pulls her round to get her mouth, her sharp teeth, onto La’an’s left breast. “You first,” she says, but she does let go, floats out into the middle of the room, her hand driving between La’an’s legs, two fingers tucked inside her, the other moving her so that she corkscrews around Una’s beautiful knuckles. Today has been the most exposing and exciting sexual experience of La’an’s life, and it honestly is barely past lunch.

“You’re so beautiful,” Una says, as La’an’s head snaps back as she orgasms into thin air, “Yes, beautiful, you’re so slick, so open. How many of them have had you today? Let's have a debriefing right now, while we’re here.”

Not that she seems to have got her fill, and so La’an goes cross eyed as Una sucks her clit into her mouth and licks her pointedly until she talks.

“Oh, um, first James Kirk, then M’Benga fucked me over a biobed after the briefing, though Erica finished me off, then Pike in the turbo lift, then him and Kirk just now, though that doesn't really count…”

“Slutty girl,” Una purrs.

“Oh! No, not enough though, I've been lacking in my duties, there are so many people I should have fucked.”

“Don’t worry about that. All our duties are falling by the wayside today. How was M’Benga? I've had Kirk and the Captain.”

“Hnng, so good, he's so strong, has such control, bent me right over and slipped it in like it was nothing.”

“I love it when they do that,” Una says, sliding up La’an’s body to wrap her beautiful long legs around her face, and bucks up as La’an buries herself between her legs, clinging on with her shapely thighs, as they settle into a slow spin. “Mm, the logs from today will go down in history. I will be surprised if the admiralty doesn’t have us burn the entire ship, but oh, god, yes, yes, La’an, yes, you are so good, my good slut, my beautiful guardian angel, you’ve been so good, you’ll be so good, I promise, I promise you can do this, oh yes, you’ll make him understand, I promise.”

La’an pulls her head back to gasp for breath. “Okay,” she says, “I’ll do it. After,” and dives back in.

Una continued the peptalk once they both got back down to solid ground, plying La’an with rehydration drinks and more reassurances that she trusts her implicitly and maybe is in love with her, that she cannot let Jim Kirk of all people get to her, so La’an is pretty much back on top when she strides into the conference room to see him staring at the beautiful, pulsing, gaping void on the screen with something close to wonder.

“Okay, so I have to do this before I fuck you again and tell you everything because my brain goes stupid when I get good dick,” La’an says, brusquely, because there’s no point waiting for a moment, not with everything that is in the air.

He looks flattered, like he doesn’t know, and god, that's part of the attraction.

“I fantasise about you. No, I mean, obviously I will fantasise about you now, now you’ve fucked me, but I did before. In normal times. Because I met another you. Another…different you.”

Kirk furrows his handsome brow and pulls her close, sliding his hand beneath her waistband.

He slides his fingers into her cunt gently, asking the question before he even says it with the way they curl.

“Did he fuck you the way I fucked you?” he asks, gently.

La’an feels like she’s going to cry, feels her lip wobble as she remembers. “No. He never fucked me. He died…” she chokes, then, on the memory.

“La'an.” Jim says, and she feels him start to pull back and grips to him tightly.

“No, fuck me, Jim. Fuck me and let me pretend, just the once. Give me the Kirk sandwich I've dreamed of.”

“You want a Kirk sandwich?” Jim raises his eyebrows with mischievous intent. “You know…maybe we can make that happen after all.”

He flips open his communicator and sends a message, and then a few moments later, the door slides open.

“Commanders?” Sam Kirk asks. “How can I help?”

“She wants the Kirk brothers special.” Jim says, his eyebrows raised high.

“Far be it from me to deny her,” Sam says. “Do you want front or back?”

“I had her front earlier. You take her there. I'll do the hard work. Privilege of rank.”

“You're just like dad,” Sam says. “Pretending you don't like it the hard way.”

La’an shivers; it's extremely hot how they're talking about her like this, like she's a piece of equipment they're repairing, their banter extremely brotherly even as Sam manhandles her, stripping her jersey and undershirt off, pinching her nipples and testing the weight of her breasts like he’s appraising merchandise before cupping her between her legs. He raises his eyebrows at the mess between her thighs, how soaking wet she is, and then drops his trousers and hops up onto the table, and then picks her up and spears her on his dick like she’s an errant coupling that needs nothing more than a firm hand.

“You've already had her? I can't tell,” Sam says. “She's tight as a drum. You'd have thought you'd have fucked her open at least some. I thought you had the family endowment, but it shows what we suspected all along…”

“That's not how it works,” Jim says, slapping La’an’s arse so that she squeals and clamps down on Sam’s dick. “You'd think as a biologist you'd know that. La'an has excellent core strength. It's why she's such an effective security chief, and why she feels like a virgin even after she's taken me and the captain.”

“...And M’Benga, and Erica, and Una’s hands…both of them…” La'an contributes.

“See?” Jim says, “It's discipline and fitness, not any laxity. But by all means, fuck her best you can, maybe she can tell us after who is bigger, settle the argument once and for all.”

Jim drops to his knees to sloppily tongue her arse in between arguing with his brother and tucks his fingers inside her cunt, alongside his brother's dick to gather up enough slick to get inside her. Sam groans, and pauses, as Jim pushes La’an forward so that he can stuff his monster cock inside her arse, bends her just so that there's enough space for them both, and pinches her nipples, kisses her neck, strokes gentle fingers against her clit.

“I know we're not both me,” Jim says against her ear, “but I hope that it suffices. My brother might be a dickhead, but I can give him a compliment when I have to. I can feel the way he's dicking you right now and I know I'm not going to last long. You can let go, La'an. You're safe. We’ve got you.”

True to his word, Sam does buck into her just as Jim pulls back, and the hint at that double fullness is enough that she starts coming, but doesn't stop. She's stuck like that, rolling from one orgasm to another as first Jim and then Sam groans and spill inside her, remove themselves, and then Jim eats her out gently and softly, as his brother gets a cloth and wipes them all clean, before finally jerking a load out over her exhausted, pleasure struck face.

“You're so beautiful,” Jim says, smiling broadly, and in that moment she believes he means it.

Spock stumbles at random into engineering, thankfully mostly empty. Pelia is smoking a cigarette fully nude, flanked by three exhausted lower deckers, but in all honesty it seems like the kind of thing she'd do normally, so he just takes the proffered drag and nods respectfully to her before moving on.

He keeps walking, right into the core, before he lets himself breathe.

The holographic projector takes the outputs from his tricorder with a coquettish beep, and he begins to process the data. He tries to find logic in the chaos, but all he can think of is Christine saying no, rejecting him, breaking through the power of the field to do so. Surely, there must be something there. They can break through, break free, if he can just work out why Sam Kirk of all people is preferable to himself. He watches them for a while. He has a big dick, though, Spock notes with uncharacteristic meanness, not as substantial as his brother's. Spock can tell his own rhythm is superior to the imprecise humping of the elder Kirk, and from the data, there is nothing to indicate that Christine should have preferred Kirk to himself.

“Spock?” Uhura calls out to him. He looks at her, nude and magnificent, holding her own tricorder data out for him to take. They should combine it, he should not read too much into it. Uhura is beautiful and nubile and has the objectively best breasts on the ship. He could process the data and have her suck him, and then collect some more by fucking her, by sliding his dick inside her and making her jiggle and moan and maybe, together they could unlock the secrets of the universe together.

“Excuse me,” he says instead, and flees.

Uhura stares at the warp core, the sounds of Pelia’s little orgy echoing down the halls from her office, and thinks about pleasure, about nerves and nebulas and patterns and the improbability of the events of the day.

Because it has been a strange day, but although she’s probably never had more sex in her life than right now, she’s humming, thrumming, unfulfilled. She feels like the warp core, like she’s been brought to the brink too many times but has never really been able to get there. Leaning against the wall, she reaches between her legs and almost sobs. She’s too sensitive; her clit hurts, but her whole body yearns for it. She feels out of control, like a cadet again, and remembers Hemmer. He would have been so good, he would have known what to do, how to solve this, how to make her come, he would have taken his time with that infinite, gentle patience of his…

“That’s it,” she says, bringing up the footage of the rift. She strokes the screen, and feels the rift seem to purr between her fingers. She reaches between her legs to test her hypothesis, and focuses on touching everything, not just digging in or rubbing her clit, but stroking her thighs, her labia, exploring all the spaces that are so often neglected when she rubs one out before bed, and soon enough, she starts to feel the sensitivity of her body start to normalise, and by the time she’s panting, three fingers tucked inside herself, the heel of her other hand slapping and rubbing her clit, she’s coming with a truly gloriously satisfying orgasm that feels like it takes her entire head off. Her moans echo off the walls of engineering, and she is probably imagining that the warp core is pulsing a little faster, but it sure feels like it.

Spock dodges the rutting crew and manages to duck into a turbolift just as the doors close.

“Hey,” Jim Kirk says, smiling with one side of his mouth. He looks exhausted. “Going my way, sailor?”

“Deck eight,” Spock says, taking the control firmly, eyes forward.

They stand there in silence for a moment, before Kirk calls out “Computer, halt turbolift,” and steps in front of Spock.

“There’s something wrong. Talk to me about it.”

Spock blinks at him, and then uncurls his hand from around the control rod. “I am…finding my control is being tested.”

“Tell me about it,” Kirk says. He leans over to a small go bag and pulls out two protein shakes and offers one to Spock. “Take this, it’ll make you feel better.”

It is chocolate flavoured, and ostensibly Spock is on duty for another thirty-five minutes. However, it has been a strange day. He cracks the seal and downs it in one.

“Thank you.” he says, then sighs. “How are you dealing with the situation today?”

Kirk laughs, but it is mirthless. “Just another day in space, Mister Spock,” he says, wryly. “It has been a challenge, I won’t lie. At least I don’t have to work here. I’m worried how you’re all going to cope once it's done.”

“Perhaps it will never end,” Spock muses. “Time moves on.”

“The best of days don’t last forever,” Jim says, “Best to seize them full on and leave with no regrets. As the saying goes.”

“Indeed,” Spock says.

Jim drinks the last of his protein drink, and then reaches out. “Seize me, Mister Spock,” he whispers, and Spock does. He seizes with both hands, digs his fingers into Jim’s hair, and kisses him. There has been vanishingly little kissing today, but Jim is sweet and rich with emulsified fats and proteins, with a darker tang behind it, the evidence of what he has been using his mouth for. It drives Spock crazy, and he bites him, chases that taste away, replacing it with his own.

“I will have you,” he growls, and Jim moans, and they manage to strip just enough. Jim is already slick; someone has taken him and the idea of it is insane that it drives Spock wild, he and Jim have already fucked today, he fucked in the captain’s shadow, it makes no sense for him to be so proprietary, but nothing makes sense, so why cling to logic on a day like today. Spock pushes his slick dick inside Jim, kisses him, presses his fingers against Jim’s face.

“Let me fuck your mind,” he whispers, “let me in, Jim, let me where no one else has been,” and Jim, eyes huge and wide, nods, whispers, “yes, yes, take it, its yours,” and then Spock is sliding into his virginal mind, pressing against its virgin folds. He trails his mental tendrils over unexplored lands, stakes a claim in the green land of Jim’s psyche, plants his flag, lays his foundations, pours himself inside him as thoroughly as he is spunking into Jim’s ass, fills him with pleasure, with every dirty trick he’s ever thought of, and he feels Jim’s virgin mind spasm with something beyond orgasm, feels Jim reach back with his nascent, borrowed telepathy, and fucks Spock’s mind in return.

Panting from having to run to find a working turbolift, Uhura finally makes it to the bridge just as Spock does. He looks better than he did earlier, and he nods at her, and they proceed together to the captain’s ready room.

“Sir?” Uhura says. “Sir, I think I know how we can solve this.”

She spreads her research out on the desk, and invites the captain and Spock to partake. “I examined the recordings, I looked for a pattern to who was hooking up with who, whether there were any disturbances, and I found them. The hormonal harmonics are very specific, but there is math there, and where there is math, we can solve for it. We can solve for XXX, and we can bring this to a close.”

She flicks to a new slide. “But it isn’t enough for us to keep fucking amongst ourselves. See here? Even the orgy in the port galley only managed to reach a hormonic level of six. We are going to need more than that to bring the fold to climax. A lot more.”

“How much more?” the captain asks.

“We’re going to need to reach such sexual profligacy to reach a hormonic level of 69. Its not enough to have group sex, we need a single, final, orgiastic fuck that will satisfy the fold and allow it to close up. We have to do the greatest gangbang the galaxy has ever seen. Two hundred people, coming together at the same time.”

The captain looks proud. Spock picks up her PADD. “The math checks out. Well done, Ensign.”

“That doesn’t solve how we’re going to get everyone to orgasm at the same time,” Uhura pouts.

“I think I have the solution,” Pike says, winking at her. “I think we just need one person to lead the way. I know just the person.”

Uhura frowns. “No, not me…I’ve barely come today at all but at my own hand. No one else has been able to do it.”

The captain shakes his head. “Yes you. You've kept your eye on all of us. You know what makes us tick, what makes us come. You're the best qualified on the ship. Come on. We'll go to the bridge. This should come from the chair.”

With a sideways glance at Spock, Uhura follows the captain onto the bridge.

Pike takes a seat, and beckons for her to join him.

Uhura takes her place, and from the arm of the chair pike opens an all hands channel, and strokes her sides reassuringly.

“Just relax, Nyota. You’ve got this.”

Uhura closes her eyes, centres herself. “Hello everyone. You probably don’t know me, but I know you. I’m your communications officer, and most of the time I’m on the bridge, staring at subspace, but I’m an expert in so many forms of communication, and I see it every day, stolen glances between lovers. The gentle touch of friends comforting each other. The dirty joke, to disarm an awkward moment. All of it is so important, and it's what makes the Enterprise the onl;y crew that can do this, that can save the day. Do you know how unlikely it is for us to be here, right now, young and virile and so fucking sexy?”

Uhura gasps then, as Pike touches her. The Captain’s face is so kind as he lifts her like she weighs nothing and slides his huge, glorious dick inside her. He waits until she clenches around him, doesn’t batter her cervix like everyone else has done on this goddamn ship, instead he proves that he deserves the respect he’s got, because he is both well endowed and knows how to use it. He also doesn’t just focus on his own pleasures, no, he sucks deep, glorious bruises into her breasts, not just sucks her sensitive nipples, but pays proper attention to the whole breast, bites her gently, then harder, all while keeping his pelvis angled so that every thrust presses against her clit, and she feels like she’s made of capsaicin, like he’s sensitising her and lighting up all her nerves, everything coalescing in the final branches of her spine.

“Make her come, captain!” a voice Uhura doesn’t recognise calls out over the intercom, and Uhura sees Pike roll his eyes fondly, before flipping them both over so Nyota is pressed tight against him, riding him. He helps her bounce on his dick hard enough that her tits jiggle, and even though he isn’t touching them anymore, gravity is like another lover, and it makes her feel insane. The captain raises his eyebrows, nods at her, bucks into her hard so that she gets the order, and bracing herself against the back of the command chair, and she rides him as he presses his fingers hard into her clit, stimulating her deep, deep in the very roots of her nerves, and then with a final, brutal thrust, Nyota’s lost orgasm slams back into her, exploding in a glorious reverie of colour, and she swears that the fold, lit up on the viewscreen, quivers with the force of it.

Around the ship, Uhura's moans echo, reverberate and spread. Crew who had resisted the siren call so far fall upon each other, and across the ship the glorious combination of hormones, temperature and desire rises. It's the fuck of everyone's life, and on the bridge the orgy is at its heights, so much you cannot really tell who is in who. The turbolifts open and more and more crew arrive, falling onto each other in ecstasy, to the point even the ship is getting involved, and enterprise pulls her tethers out, flying towards the rift, her dual interfaces sliding easily into her open and waiting ports, gushing coolant through her vents.

Spock had done his best to hold back, mostly out of scientific curiosity, but the hormonic measure is stuck, hovering at 68, and there's absolutely no way he could live with himself if the mission failed because of him. He strides across the bridge, stripping his uniform off and grabbing the nearest person and kissing them, and lo and behold, it turns out to be Jim Kirk, who kisses him back desperately and gets his hand on Spock's dick just as Spock presses their minds together again, and in the end they are the final piece, and the alarm indicating that they'd reached level 69 hormonic resonance sounds and they all are taken by the pure pleasure of the great cosmic fuck, the multiple orgasm of the cosmos, and together, they all come together, the crew of the enterprise and the fold explodes into stars…

…And Uhura’s alarm, with perfect erotic timing, blares into life. She flails out her arm to turn it off, and falls off the bed.