Title: RED-HANDED
Author: Hypatia Kosh ( athena_sappho at yahoo dot com )
Series: ENT
Codes: T'Pol/Sato
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: ingestion of menstrual blood
Archive: FFF, ASCEM only
Web Page: http://hypatia.slashcity.org/slash/
Summary: Finger-play with T'Pol and Hoshi. But who's zooming who?
/thoughts/
by Hypatia Kosh
/It was *supposed* to be a simple first contact.
/It was supposed to be a simple, low-risk mission,/ Archer thought ruefully. They wanted to meet us, we wanted to meet them. Simple. Uncomplicated.
/I should have remembered Murphy's law./
Now Archer was in an irregularly shaped, poorly lit, and gray, resoundingly gray chamber, with Trip, Hoshi, and an unusually quiet T'Pol.
They had been there for three hours.
They had been on the alien ship for 15 hours, and in this . . . bay for three hours and it was well into everyone's sleep cycle, so they slept.
Or tried to. Hoshi had declared that one side of the room was the girls' side and the other side was the boys', and they were to go to the corners so that the bulkhead which jutted into that concave space would block each other's view.
The "boys" let themselves be directed to their corner without complaint. Archer and Tucker sat down and slouched against the nearest bulkhead, and Tucker nudged Archer in the side and whispered, "Miss Hoshi's pretty crabby tonight, doncha think, Cap?" The corner of the engineer's mouth twisted up in a lopsided grin. "You know what it is, doncha?" The captain shook his head. Tucker leaned towards him, conspiratorially. "P. M. S."
"I plead ignorance," answered the captain softly.
Tucker shrugged. "I guess anyone would be tetchy after putting up with this nonsense." He indicated the room. "I mean, can you believe this?" Then he stopped, and in a lower voice, hoping a certain pair of Vulcan ears wouldn't pick it up, he added, "you think Lt. Sato will be okay with you-know-who all night long?"
Archer smiled. "Hoshi can take care of herself, as I'm sure T'Pol will find out. Who knows -- they might even learn something from each other."
His companion snorted derisively. "That'll be the day."
----
/It was *supposed* to be a simple first contact.
/Why do things never go the way they're supposed to!/
Lieutenant Hoshi Sato sat with her back firmly against the wall and leaned forward to ease the pain in her belly. Their party had been here for 15 hours, their supplies had been confiscated and that goddamned analgesic had worn off. Why, of all things, did she have to be stuck on an alien ship in the middle of nowhere with *cramps*?!
"What are you doing?" The Vulcan's dour voice broke into her thoughts. She scowled. "Nothing." When there was no response she threw up her hands and repeated herself. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm going to lie down here and rest for a bit. You can do --," she searched for the right thing, "whatever you want. Good night!"
"I think I will also attempt rest," said T'Pol unnecessarily, as she too scooted onto the mercifully clean floor. She positioned herself close to the human, for warmth, but not close enough that she would feel the turmoil of the human's thoughts.
T'Pol considered that Lt. Sato had become increasingly agitated during the last few hours, but this behavior was not entirely atypical for her. Perhaps their confinement was making her anxious, and this anxiety was leading to other emotions.
And so, meditating on Surak's famous essay 'On The Inter-relation of Certain Emotional States,' T'Pol fell into a pleasant, restful state.
----
/Fuck, fuck, *fuck*! I'm going to be soaked! Why does this have to hurt so much?/ Sato had curled into a fetal position to lessen the cramps, but she still felt the dull ache and shooting pains in her womb and genitals. Without anything to distract her she could feel slight aches all over her body and the incessant pounding of her forehead.
/Please, please don't let it be a migraine./
She could feel the paper-like fiber she had stuffed in her underpants to catch the blood. It was lucky, at least, that these fellows had bathrooms. The last time they had let her use the facilities had been only a few hours before the landing party had been confined to this room.
It was then that she had tried to improvise a pad. She'd had same softcup in for 15 hours, and she was beginning to fear a death by TSS if she did not remove it from her body (could a softcup give you TSS?). She'd stood over the toilet, which wasn't so different from a terran one, and had taken it out, soggy, sopping with black goo, and stuffed it in an incinerator chute. No need to give *them* a lesson in human biology. But she didn't have another cup -- after all, being detained on the alien ship for hours had not been part of the mission plan. /Stupid!/ She didn't even have a tampon on her, loathsome as those things were, so she'd employed the local equivalent of toilet paper, probably with the usual results.
/I am screwed./
She wished she was alone, because then she could do something about the pain even without a painkiller.
Yes, it was a guilty pleasure because you weren't supposed to do *that* during your period, you were supposed to demur because it was 'unclean.' Because there was nothing *feminine* about it, and yet what could be more aggressively *female*?
What could be more female that pleasuring herself so as to relieve her cramped muscles through orgasm?
It was like flipping the bird at callous Nature, which made human females pay this painful price to be fertile all year round.
It was taking one's body into one's own hands, it was control, it was power -- and it was pleasure.
Screw men and their horror of menstrual blood, those braggarts who became squealing pansies at the sight of a drop of red! Did they think it disgusting, did they say it smelled foul? Hah! It smelled like Woman and it tasted like Life.
/Screw them anyway. And T'Pol is asleep. I bet Vulcans never have periods. She won't be any wiser. I'll do it quickly and not make any sound./
She felt a certain thrill -- not exactly sexual -- at doing this in the other three's unwitting presence. /What do they know?/
Slowly, she opened the clasp of her pants and slipped her hand under the waistband of her underwear and nestled her middle finger into the length of her slit. That was better. Carefully, she began to slide her hand up and down.
----
Floating somewhere along the squaring of the lune, T'Pol was abruptly brought to consciousness by a periodic rustling sound.
The Vulcan blinked her eyes open.
It seemed the light was dimmer than when she had closed her eyes. No matter. She turned her head.
The human beside her was curled on her side much the way she had left her, but now one knee was pointed toward the ceiling instead of away, the sole of that foot on the ground, /leaving the underbelly exposed./
And she was moving. T'Pol hear the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric. Ms. Sato was breathing heavily. It was an odd thing -- the Vulcan could see her back, and not her front, and really had no idea what the human was doing, but she had a keen sense, however subjective, the she was observing a phenomenon that she was not meant to see.
/Of course, it is only natural to keep biological functions private -- biological functions? Something that happens when humans are asleep? If this is some sort of somnambulism or a seizure, then surely it would embarrass her greatly if she knew that I had seen it./ T'Pol had not forgotten that she had learned about epilepsy and sleepwalking from books, not from the mouths of humans -- just as no human would learn about certain details of Vulcan biology from her.
But the linguist was not asleep; indeed, it seemed far more likely that she was simply being rude, by disregarding the presence of others while she did . . . whatever it was she was doing.
/Therefore, I am justified in putting an end to it./
----
"What are you doing?"
For the second time that Vulcan's voice cut across Sato's inner monologue, but this time it was more shocking. More shameful, perhaps too, but sometimes pain leads to anger and that anger can overrule shame.
"So. You're awake." They were both speaking in low voices; in fact any speech sounded shockingly loud, although Hoshi was fairly sure that the boys couldn't hear her. She had heard the sounds of slight snoring from across the chamber when T'Pol had been asleep. She turned her head to face the Vulcan, who still seemed to expect an answer. "What?" she asked petulantly.
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow eloquently.
"I'm just taking care of something. A medical condition. Nothing you have to worry about -- or think about." She surreptitiously moved her hand out of her pants and curled it into a fist, in case T'Pol got too curious.
"Perhaps you could tell me about this 'medical condition.'"
"Oh, well, it's . . . it's not really something we talk about with outsiders. It's . . . private, you know?"
"I must, of course, respect your appeal for privacy. However, an alternative explanation occurs to me -- that you are engaging in inappropriate personal behavior, and, if so, I insist that you desist."
/'Inappropriate personal behavior?'/ "Excuse me?"
"Perhaps, since I lack your facility with language, I have not made myself clear." As T'Pol spoke, the conclusion became obvious to her. "I believe you have been masturbating, in my presence, and I would like you to stop."
Hoshi's face colored, then set. "Let me explain something to you. It's my time of month, I'm in a lot of pain, and I'd appreciate it if you just let me do what I need to do to take care of it in the only way that's available to me right now, thank you very much!"
"Ah," T'Pol ejected suddenly. She was struck by a sudden understanding, even -- compassion? "Time of month. Is that . . .?" /Some sort of sexual cycle, like Pon Farr? If it occurs so frequently, it is no wonder that humans--/
"It's my period -- don't Vulcans menstruate?"
"Menstruate? I am unfamiliar with that term."
Sato thought for an instant. "It's a monthly female fertility cycle. The ovaries release an egg and if it isn't fertilized then the egg and the lining of the uterus sloughs off, there's all this blood, cramps, hormonal fluctuations . . . sound familiar?"
"No."
"Do . . . uh, do Vulcan females go into estrus, then?"
"No."
"Do you cycle at all?"
The Vulcan shook her head slightly.
The woman's jaw dropped. "You lucky DOGS!" She caught herself from shouting further. "God, I can't believe that. No wonder you're so -- god. Do you have any idea how lucky you are? No, of course not. God!
"So when are Vulcan females fertile? I mean, if you can tell me."
"All the time."
"*That* doesn't tell me anything."
T'Pol let out a breath. "Under the right circumstances, hormones are released which trigger the release of an egg. For a short period, the female can conceive. If conception does not take place, or fails, the reproductive tissue is reabsorbed into the body."
"Oh. That's convenient."
Neither of them said anything for a few minutes; Sato stared at the ceiling while the subcommander pondered this new information and wondered if the matter was settled.
"Look," said Sato after a time, "what happens during these periods -- menses -- is that the muscles cramp up and there's a lot of pain. I usually take analgesic, but the stuff I took on the ship wore off several hours ago."
"That is unfortunate."
"Yeah, yeah, that's why we call it 'the curse.' Look, I'm sorry if you find it offensive, but if I . . . 'jill off' I can abate the cramping enough to get some rest. 'Cause you don't want to find out how cranky I can get with no sleep."
"Surely that is unnecessary. Pain is in the mind and can be controlled."
"I'm not Vulcan." Now she was annoyed.
"I find your behavior disturbing and I would prefer if you found some other way."
"Would you 'prefer' to hear my moans of pain? Because that's what it comes down to," she huffed, getting short.
"Perhaps we can compromise."
"Compromise."
"If you insist on handling the problem in this way, I can aid you so that you may do so expediently and therefore not disturb me, or anyone else, any longer than necessary."
"What? I mean, how?"
"I am able to manipulate the nerve endings -- in fact, more efficiently than you can."
"Uh . . ."
"I mean nothing by it; that is simply a fact. I make this offer simply to have this done with as quickly as possible."
/Yeah, right./
"Shall we proceed?"
"Sure, as long as you don't mind getting blood on your hands." /Whatever./ If this crazy Vulcan was going to offer, she wouldn't exactly refuse. There was a certain egotistical pride in getting to a base with the subcommander, certainly the most, er, visible female on the ship, before any of the men did. /As far as I know./
Hoshi felt a thrill of anticipation. She didn't really care if T'Pol noticed her arousal -- wasn't that the point? The Vulcan had made the offer with her ridiculous justification in the first place. Hah. If T'Pol thought she could sit over there and "manipulate" her obviously unworthy "nerve endings" as if she were dissecting a frog she had another thing coming!
----
T'Pol was pleased by the lack of resistance on the human female's part. Quite frankly, she was motivated by curiosity, and she had, by chance, been given an opportunity to satisfy it. She sat up and leaned over the human; then, at the other's nod, let her hand slip under clothing and slid her fingers along the slick, warm curves of Sato's labia. She touched the skin delicately with the sensitive pads on the tips of her fingers, and, closing her eyes in concentration, located the nerve endings in the epidermis. It was an interesting configuration, although the practical aspects of such a design were not readily apparent /*unless self-manipulation played an important role in the health of the organism*. That is certainly an interesting hypothesis. How is it falsifiable/verifiable? And how would the current situation fit into this?/ More speculation would have to wait, however, so, focusing her attention on careful observation, she employed a basic pattern on the human's vulva.
A sudden jerk in the subject's hips and a very audible disruption in her breathing pattern broke T'Pol's concentration. The science officer's eyes snapped open and she saw that the human had arched her back and was massaging her right breast under her shirt. Their eyes met.
"I'm -- expediting -- th' process," she explained between breaths.
The Vulcan returned to her work.
----
The human realized as soon as the Vulcan's hot little hand reached down between her throbbing folds that she would have to abandon the fantasy she had so recently been masturbating to, and let herself be carried by this sensation. There was something very odd about the way the other's fingertips felt on her labia, something that was surely connected to the Vulcan's uncanny and semi-secret telepathy. Suddenly, T'Pol started stroking from above the clitoral hood, then around the clit, and then down the inner labia, and then up again. She felt the rush of wetness -- she felt good! She shifted her body and started to pinch her sore nipples. After reassuring T'Pol about the change in behavior, she closed her eyes and just experienced the alien hand awakening every nerve in that slippery place. It must have been because she had her period, for she felt loose, and sloppy, and open, and female. Her muscles were tightening, the pressure in her forehead had dispelled the headache and she could feel her orgasm coming -- with T'Pol! /I wonder what it would be like -- just the two of us in a bed -- oooh./
Suddenly the tension was released and Sato felt the contractions inside, and in her chest the hammering of her racing heart. She carefully slowed her breathing. The Vulcan was cautiously removing her fingers, and then held her hand up, as if fascinated by the mixture of blood and vaginal secretions, which she could surely barely see in the dim light.
Hoshi knew an opportunity when she saw one.
"Want me to help you with that?" she asked politely, sitting up.
"Help? With what?" T'Pol's voice was as aloof as ever.
"You've got blood on your hand. Let me clean it off."
T'Pol blinked. "You're going to lick it off," inferred the Vulcan.
"You're not supposed to ingest someone else's blood. You could get sick. And you don't want that on your uniform, do you?"
The Vulcan acquiesced. The human took the proffered hand and carefully brought her tongue to the Vulcan's index finger and licked.
This was no business-like cleansing. Sato kept eye contact with T'Pol, who seemed to become increasingly disturbed as she licked one finger and then another, feeling the soft, sensitive finger pads with her tongue and tasting the salty, slightly metallic flavor of her own juices mixed with menstrual blood which had pooled in the spaces between T'Pol's fingers.
/I've got you now, T'Pol. Just what game did you think you were playing?/
At the thought of her cunning, the linguist smiled.
----
/This is not supposed to be happening. Control. This response can be isolated and mastered./
But it could *not* be isolated. To her dismay, T'Pol was finding that the nerves in her fingertips were connected to nerves all over her body, and as this . . . seduction continued, the nerve clusters in her body seemed to wake up one by one; her nipples, then her external genitalia, the fingertips on her other hand, the internal genitalia, the tip of her nose, her lips, her anus, her toes, her ears, her eyes -- yes even her eyes, how bizarre -- and they were all ignoring her brain, rebellious organs!
/I cannot let her see this . . . I let her start this, but she made a logical argument. Perhaps I should have refused nevertheless. Can blood-borne pathogens be passed from human to Vulcan?
/She warned before we started that I would have blood on my hands. What have I gotten myself into?/
The Vulcan struggled to control her physical response as her thoughts rushed about in confusion. She could not concentrate on anything except the thought of concealing her sexual response. Everything else was lost in a pool of sensual overload. She could feel the blood rushing to her groin, and more and more that flesh ached to be touched. She *wanted*.
Lt. Sato was looking at her so intently. T'Pol could see every detail of Sato's eyes; they held hers helplessly. The skin around them crinkled as if in slow motion and the horrified Vulcan saw that the woman was smiling! Smiling like a predator who has caught her prey. T'Pol felt her eyes widen involuntarily, drew in a sharp breath and froze.
/I can't -- I can't --/
"I'm not going to torture you," the human said. Irony was surely intended, because her vocal tones were those categorized as 'pleasant.' "But I have to say your reaction is *very* interesting. I hope you'll keep it in mind the next time you decide to treat one of us like a lab rat." Then Sato nonchalantly swallowed each of T'Pol's fingers in turn, and dried each carefully with her lips.
She smiled again. "All done."
T'Pol was still stunned, but she snatched her hand away and stuck it under her other arm. She looked away from the lieutenant and began to visualize a first-level meditation focus.
"Thanks, by the way." The human's voice interrupted her efforts abruptly. Sato had returned to the floor and curled away from her. "I feel 200% better."
"Thanks are illogical," she recited stiffly.
"Whatever you say."
It was the human's abrupt dismissal, rather than any attempt at self-control of her own, which had finally dampened her desire. This weighed on T'Pol heavily. She shifted into a sitting meditational posture and began the first level exercises . . . /the body is subject to the mind/ . . .
----
Hoshi felt relaxed, sated; in fact, utterly pleasant all over. She drifted off to sleep, visions of female Vulcans dancing in her head.
/Just you wait, subcommander. I'll get you yet!/
-END-