8 comments/ 43145 views/ 23 favorites Mary and the Organic Ship By: gynoid Chapter 1 Three long strides brought Mary from her apartment into the elevator compartment, just seconds before the doors slid silently shut. She put her palm flat on the glass panel at her side, waited a moment for the bar of light to sweep from fingertips to wrist, and spoke two crisp words: "Mary Brooks." The elevator AI system, which was antiquated - indeed, some of her colleagues had recently sent round a petition calling for an update to the technology - took some time to respond before it came to life with a low hum. ACCESS: SUB-LEVEL 12 flashed onto the panel in neon yellow letters, and she felt her stomach turn as she was dropped swiftly through the floors. She spent the ride finishing off the braid in her hair, which was the most practical way to wear it for work, especially when work involved an environment suit. The elevator opened onto the locker room, which housed this suit as well as her other site equipment. It also contained too many people for this time in the morning. There were four in all, and she knew three of them extremely well, having worked some months with them on this project. Sandra, Perry and Juan were the lab rats, all talking in excited, hushed voices. The fourth, Lenoir, was in the corner stripping off his environment suit. Strange, that - she frowned to see it, since he was due to go in with her imminently, and the suit was absolutely necessary unless... "Mary! We've finished the scans - well, Juan finished them last night, actually..." Sandra was talking very fast, a sure sign that something had happened. "More like this morning," Juan said with a tired smile. "Hi, Mary. Good news for you and Lenoir. It's totally safe for you guys to go in there and play around." His eyes were bleary and bloodshot, but he managed to look very well satisfied. With his single-minded approach to his work, he probably hadn't left the lab at all. Mary glanced at Lenoir, who had edged up to their little group, clad in only his long-sleeved underall. He made no comment, only folding his arms across his wide chest and gazing at the floor as if it held something of great interest. It gave her an opportunity to study him, a guilty pleasure she indulged in only at times of great weakness. This was such a time. The way the skin-tight cloth clung to those thighs... Sweet lord, I wish he'd walk around like that more often, she thought, and then stopped herself with a mental shake, turning back to Sandra. "I take it there's no activity in any sectors? This thing is completely dead? Does HQ know?" She felt a thrill of anticipation. For weeks, she and Lenoir had been kept outside the artifact, stumbling around in their suits and trying to be useful while the real work - the lengthy analyses, scans, projections and simulations - had been done by the trio of scientists in front of her now. The prospect of being able to enter it and do her job properly was more than exciting. "I've already copied our findings to the big guns upstairs," said Perry. "We should get the green light for your first walk-through in the next hour. In fact," he added apologetically, "I should be in the lab waiting for it. I just wanted to see your face when you heard the news. You didn't disappoint." With a smile and a wink, he turned, and went up the short flight of stairs that led to the laboratory with a decided spring in his step. Mary didn't know quite how to respond - was her eagerness so obvious? Without knowing why, she looked enquiringly at Lenoir. He looked back with no change in his impassive expression, but she felt another thrill go through her when she met his pale eyes, made more startling by the darkness of the lashes that framed them. "I must admit, I'm looking forward to getting a proper look at this thing," she said. "Any more of this 'monitoring' business and I'd have been petitioning HQ for a redesign of the e-suits." "They are a little confining," he agreed, before going back to his locker and taking out a regulation grey jumpsuit. Inwardly, Mary rolled her eyes. It was pretty usual behaviour, but at such a turning point she had expected some show of emotion. She exchanged a look of complete understanding with Juan, who then yawned hugely. "I'm gonna get some coffee. I'd sleep but I wouldn't miss this for the world." "I'll make you some," Sandra offered. "Last night's work earns you a cup." "What, you make coffee? Get a load of this, Mary - the world's worst cook is about to make me a drink. I better start writing my will." Juan chuckled and took Sandra's arm companionably. "Hey, my cooking might be crap, but my coffee is spectacular, as you're about to find out, mister," Sandra countered, and their banter continued all the way upstairs. Mary was alone with Lenoir. She decided against attempting further conversation, and crossed the room to her locker to change clothes. Usually at this point in the day she would have been climbing into the e-suit, and so had dressed in a black underall with a cotton tee and loose trousers on top for decency's sake. The underall covered her completely, but she felt too exposed with every curve on display, and didn't quite have the confidence to wear it around the locker room with an attractive man watching her. She didn't think Lenoir ever had watched her, but that didn't change her embarrassment. A walk-through of the artifact required something with more pockets, however, so she quickly slipped out of her top and trousers, and began to unfold her jumpsuit. "Do you want to decide who goes in first?" She jumped when Lenoir spoke, his voice seemingly just behind her left ear. Flushing and clutching the grey fabric to her breasts, she turned around and saw him not two feet away. "Ah... well... I don't know. Do you have a preference?" "No, but I thought that you might." Something approaching a smile touched his lips. "You seem quite passionate about this project." "Well, that makes one of us." She regretted saying it instantly, but Lenoir didn't appear troubled. Then again, did he ever? She couldn't tell if his stony expression was a response to her words, or simply a return to his usual cheerless self. "I mean - yes, I am passionate about it. It's a tremendous find and I'm lucky to be a part of it." She willed her face to coolness. "But then, I've only been on an initial study team once before. I guess it's not so interesting after a while." "I wouldn't know," he said, surprising her. "You can go in first." He drew back and opened the equipment locker, taking out the things they would need: cameras, handscreens, portable scanners. The unexpectedly personal conversation - he never talked about anything but the job - might never have taken place. Mary zipped herself into the jumpsuit and went to help. He handed the gear over without a word or a look, and started to fill his own pockets. The silence became too much. "Lenoir, I think you should be first. I've done this before, after all." He said nothing, and she reached over to touch his shoulder, suppressing the urge to move her hand a few inches to brush against the fall of his dark hair. "No, I don't mind," he replied instantly, but she thought that he did. "I insist," she said firmly. He gave her that odd half-smile again and her heart leapt. "Okay." Chapter 2 The artifact was a ship. At least, Mary thought so, and the scans seemed to back her up. Lenoir refused to commit himself, but they could at least agree that it was impressive. They stood in front of it now, in the large empty hall. Everything was shades of grey - their uniforms, the walls, the floors, and the scanning machinery that lay dormant on one side - but the ship was iridescent, the surface shimmering as though it were coated in oil. The way the colours shifted gave her the creeps, but the scans had shown nothing but a hunk of organic matter. Large organic constructs didn't officially exist; no one had figured out a way of making it work - or of making it affordable. The ship was not made by human hands. Unfortunately, determining its age was proving difficult, since up until recently it seemed to have been rebuilding itself on a regular basis. Whatever HQ had done to deactivate it had stopped that process. It was not the first sign of alien life, but it was the most recently active. "Mary, whenever you're ready," came Sandra's voice over the speakers. Mary turned and looked up to the windows set into one of the walls. The science team gave her smiles and thumbs-up, and she waved back. They would enter through a man-made opening, since there were no others to be found on the inert surface of the ship. HQ defense batteries and their heavy weapons fire had apparently neutralised it, and had also created a handy doorway. "I'll be right behind you," she told Lenoir. He nodded and fumbled with his camera - was that nerves? Surely not! - then stepped cautiously through the narrow gash. Mary followed, the bright lights of the hall changing abruptly to damp, hot darkness. She gulped in air and blinked hard, fumbling for her torch. The floor gave slightly beneath her feet and felt like dense sponge. "It's like a sauna in here," she said, and flicked the torch on. The beam showed more of the same oil-slick surfaces: walls, floors, ceilings, with openings in all three. "Do you think we should get some proper lighting in here?" "That'll take time," said Lenoir, torch in hand. "I'd like to get an initial impression of the atmosphere in here. Whoever... whatever lives in this environment must thrive on heat." "Don't jump to conclusions too quickly," she corrected him, but gently. "When it's active, it could have a cooling system, for all we know. Remember that there were no lifeforms found on recovery. It might be a drone, or it might have a sentience all its own." There was a silence in which she feared she had overstepped. The air seemed even more oppressive than before. "You're right," he said at last. She could only see his profile, stern and focussed. "There'll be time for hypothesising later. Let's take a room each," she suggested hastily. "Stay within hailing distance," was all his reply as he walked through the opening to his right. Mary took the one across the way. There was no real danger, she thought - the scans had confirmed that there was nothing to threaten them - but still, something made her glad that there was someone just a shout away. She supposed that it must be the sheer weirdness of the place, and pushed the feeling to one side. Her first duty was to see if her comms unit could breach the hull, although the exterior survey had indicate that it might not. It didn't, so she left the ship briefly to assure the scientists that they would check in at half-hour intervals to upload their data to the lab. "What's it like in there?" asked Perry, his voice echoing around the large space. "Hot and dank. Not pleasant." "Next time, wear less," he advised with a grin she could hear as well as see. Back inside, she got to work. Photographs, detailed scans of surfaces and interesting features, and note-taking were the main tasks to be dealt with. The space was disappointingly uniform. There seemed to be no interesting features, no controls or systems or anything that was conventionally found in a ship. The room was all smooth curves with rounded doorways of differing sizes and shapes: quinessentially organic design. She had to remind herself that the data collected with the handscanner might eventually reveal something much more interesting, but it was a trial to keep going, especially given the conditions and the semi-darkness. Soon she felt like she was burning up, despite the frequent trips outside. Sweat dampened her skin, and her braid felt like a hot weight down her back. Modesty be damned, she thought desperately. I'll faint if I don't get out of this jumpsuit. In the end she compromised and opened it to the waist, shrugging out of the top half and letting it hang around her hips. She also unzipped the underall to her breastbone and rolled up its sleeves. It wasn't as good as, say, a bikini would have felt, but it was an improvement. She thought about Lenoir and wondered if his rigid adherence to proper uniform would allow him to work in a state of undress. She hoped it would. In the seventh and last chamber, she found out. He was kneeling by a pile of his gear, taking notes intently. His jumpsuit was neatly folded under his camera and he had pulled his hair back with an elastic band. Mary sat down by the doorway - collapsed would have been more accurate - and fanned herself. They had been inside the ship for six hours. "This is unbearable," she gasped. "We need fans in here." "Yes," he said without looking up. Mary tried not to ogle his beautiful body, shown off so well by the blessed underall, but even when she looked aside she remembered clearly how the broad width of his shoulders tapered down to slim hips. She cleared her throat. "Do you need any help in here?" "I'm almost finished." He tapped and swiped the screen with the ease of long practice. "Just a couple of minutes." She closed her eyes and leant back against the wall. It wasn't slippery, but it did remind her a little of skin, and with its slight softness, it was comfortable. Perhaps that was why there was no furniture... "Brooks?" She opened her eyes to see Lenoir standing above her, looking down with a strange expression on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I only closed my eyes for a minute." "You did," he said, his voice tight. She glanced down at herself and, with horrified embarrassment, saw that the treacherous zip of her underall had slid open, far past the point of decency. She wasn't quite falling out of it, but another deep breath and... it was too mortifying to even think about. Quickly she yanked the zip up and gathered her equipment, hoping that the half-light concealed her blushing face. They left the ship without another word. Mary elected not to change in the locker room, but shoved her gear into its proper place, grabbed her clothes, and hurried into the elevator. Lenoir was well able to tell the labrats about their findings. She couldn't stand another minute in his company. Everything seemed to go wrong when she was with him in that ship. It was bad luck, or something equally superstitious and ridiculous. As the doors began to close, she fantasized about the long, cool shower she would take the minute she got back to the apartment. Perhaps she'd use her favourite vanilla soap. Two large hands stopped the doors before they sealed, and slowly prised them open. Lenoir slid through, a bag in hand. He looked about as hot as she felt, in the bright light of the compartment. His hair was falling out of its ponytail, a few strands clinging to his face, and his skin gleamed. He was, she noted with secret delight, still wearing the underall and nothing else. "I've talked to the team about the lights and fans," he said, after performing the requisite identification with the AI. "Tomorrow should be more comfortable." "Thank you." "I... ah." That made her look at him. He never stumbled over words. "Don't feel embarrassed about earlier. There's no need." "Oh. Good." She felt out of her depth. Perry would have made a witty remark about her cleavage, easy to laugh off or put down, but this almost earnest concern was different. She thought he meant that he wasn't remotely interested and hadn't been looking at her lustfully. She probably should have been grateful. She wasn't. Thankfully the doors opened onto her floor a moment later, and she escaped into the sanctuary of her apartment without a backward glance. * * * * * * * * In the quiet darkness of the ship, something shifted. Chapter 3 Although HQ had been terribly concerned about the working conditions - or so Sandra had said - no lights or fans materialised on the following morning. Mary had slept badly and the news didn't improve her sour mood. In silence she and Lenoir stripped down to the ubiquitous underalls, rolled up their sleeves, and prepared to continue with the internal survey. Lenoir seemed to sense her bad temper; he spoke little and chose to study the weapons damage in and around the entry room. She decided to work in the deepest chamber from the entrance, hoping to get the worst of the heat over with as early in the day as possible. In a perfunctory gesture, she swept the narrow beam of light over the featureless surfaces, then set up the 3D scanner to make a model. While it ran, she went outside to check in with the lab. "This is Brooks," she told the mike. "Morning, Mary," said Perry. "You okay in there?" "Yeah, just fine," she muttered, tugging her zip down to let the cool air in. "See if you can get HQ to put a rush on those fans, would you?" "Will do. You should really consider a bikini." "In your dreams, idiot," she said, and broke the connection. "We could swap rooms, if you like," said Lenoir. Like the day before, he was right behind her and the sound of his soft deep voice made her both flinch and shiver. She faced him and smiled ruefully. "I'm complaining too much, aren't I? I'm fine where I am. Thanks for the offer." * * * * * * * * When she returned to the scanner, it was beeping to indicate that the sweep was finished, so she slid it into its well-padded case and picked up the camera. Thanking heaven that HQ didn't stint on the equipment budget, she flipped on the internal torch and looked around for something interesting to capture. It was all just the same, curved smoothness - no sign of controls, power lines or propulsion systems. All the same as before. She turned in a slow arc, gazing into the viewscreen to line up a good shot, and then stopped. It wasn't all the same. Something had changed, something that hadn't been there when she'd taken the 3D scan. There was a hole in the floor. It was over two feet in diameter, but some exploration with her torch showed it to be perhaps five feet deep, or a little more. Mary lowered herself into it and felt around for anything unusual. The walls around her were as smooth as the rest of the ship. Funny, she thought, it seemed bigger when I wasn't inside it. She began to climb out, and couldn't. What the hell? Her arms were stuck, and when she looked down, she saw with a jolt of terror that the pit had closed itself around her, molding itself to her form so that she was effectively buried up to the neck. Struggling did nothing. Her entire body was trapped in a warm cocoon. She forced herself to breathe slowly and calmly, although every instinct was tuned to fear and she felt panic rising in her throat. It's okay. It's okay. This might be how the pilot controls the ship. It was impossible to prevent a strangled gasp when she felt something hard press between her legs. "No," she whispered in amazed horror. It pressed again, exploring the recesses of her body slowly and carefully. It touched her inner thighs, her belly, her mons, and then unerringly began to slide up and down in small rhythmical movements, stroking the fabric over her clitoris firmly, pressing her buttocks back against their confining prison. Her brain emptied of rational thought. It was unbelievable, surely a dream sent to punish her for her inappropriate fantasies about Lenoir. A wave of bliss swept through her as she thought of him, of his gorgeous butt and muscular thighs... and she gave in completely to the sensations that were starting to course through her body. The stroking sped up. She groaned, and tried to push back, feeling wet heat moistening the crotch of the underall. It felt like large fingers were manipulating her, were coaxing this incredible pleasure from her while she was helpless to do anything. She imagined that the fingers belonged to Lenoir, that he was holding her down and caressing her slick folds with merciless concentration until she begged for more. Her nipples were achingly hard; she longed to rub them against something for relief, but couldn't. Being so powerless turned her on in a way that shocked her; similarly, being stimulated and aroused by an unknown being should have disgusted her, but her only thought was that she badly wanted - needed - to come. Mary rocked and squirmed as much as she was able, panting for breath as the protusion began to tremble and swirl in little circles over her nub. The vibration was too much. She clenched her teeth to keep from crying out as she had one of the most intense orgasms of her life. It consumed her fully, making her body shake and her mind explode. Mary and the Organic Ship Disgust and guilt were the first things to return along with her senses. The walls had relaxed back to their original position, allowing her to climb out. For a few minutes she lay still and quiet while her thoughts and reactions crowded her mind. Her naturally rational mind was already sorting through the recent event and reasoning through it, but she felt instinctively that she had to get away. After straightening her clothing, she gathered her things in trembling hands and went to the doorway. Lenoir was where she had left him. He was so engrossed in his notes that she almost managed to creep past unnoticed, but he looked up just as she reached the exit. She faltered at his intent, frowning gaze, yet made as if to keep going. "Mary, what's wrong? What happened?" he asked sharply. "I... it's too hot in there. I can't think. I have to go." "Are you unwell? Let me help you." "No!" she snapped. "I'm fine, I just need to lie down." She stepped out into the light. * * * * * * * * The wash did her good, as did changing into a loose robe and making a mug of strong tea. She put on some soothing music and curled into a chair to sip the hot drink and think calmly. It had been a shocking experience, but she was mistress of herself enough to admit that she had, on some level, enjoyed it - and that perhaps this fact was upsetting her most. She prided herself on her self-command, but had abandoned it in seconds, even with the knowledge that Lenoir could walk in at any moment. As a scientist she was full of questions, but the most pressing one was very simple: could she ever bring herself to tell anyone about what had happened? It was surely of prime importance, especially since it might indicate a dormant intelligence, and further attacks might follow. Had it been an attack, though? Mary was not sure. She had entered the hole of her own free will, and by doing so she might have triggered an automated sequence of events. The thought that the ship might be powered by the ecstacies of its inhabitants made her smile wryly and shake her head. Somehow it had known how to manipulate human physiology, but now was not the time for fancies. Cold, hard facts were required. She had finished her tea, and with it, her initial analysis of the situation. It was time to talk to Lenoir. * * * * * * * * The small office was empty save for scattered chairs and a table. Mary stood against one wall and studiously picked at the sleeve of her jacket. There was a sharp double knock. "Come in," she called, and Lenoir obeyed. "Close the door, please," she added, sitting down and avoiding his curious face. "Are you feeling better?" "Yes. Thank you. I need to tell you something." He sat opposite her and she met his eyes, mortification clawing at her as she realised how much harder this would be than she had anticipated. "Something happened in the ship. Something weird and embarrassing. Please don't say anything," she said, forestalling his reply, "because I just want to get this over with. I found a hole, a recess in the floor that I hadn't noticed before." She chewed on her lower lip, then spoke quickly. "It was about two point two five feet in diameter. I got in to examine it. It... closed on me, like it had molded to my body, and I couldn't get out. Then it... it touched me." Her face - no, her whole body - burned with shame. She slouched back into the seat, wishing she could just keep going and slide under the table. "Mary." He reached forward as if to take her hand and she instantly snatched it away. "It touched me between my legs and brought me to orgasm. Then it returned to its original state. I got out and left. That's what happened." There was a very long silence. "I don't want you to tell anyone else yet," she said, as an afterthought. "It's all true, though I know it sounds like the ravings of a lunatic, and I want corroborated proof before I embarrass myself in front of anyone else." "I agree," he said, leaning back. "I believe you, but it would be better to present a fully researched case, especially if we could leave your experience out." He was all cool professionalism, and it startled her. "I'm a little concerned about what may happen next," she admitted, feeling a little comforted by his immediate use of the word 'we'. "Perhaps I'm wrong and we should immediately inform HQ - perhaps we'd be endangering ourselves." "While I wouldn't want to hypothesize without your permission," he said, rather archly, "I don't think this was an act of aggression. You weren't injured, and you may have unwittingly begun an in-built process. We should study this recess closely." "What bothers me is that it has an intimate knowledge of human anatomy." "Well... perhaps you were scanned." "Then why is there no resulting data from our scans?" she demanded. "It should be dead. I think we're in way over our heads." "I don't disagree. Still..." "... you want to study it further," she finished. He nodded. "Yes, well, so do I. Let's go back this afternoon and see if we can find an answer." Her determination made her voice strong, and although Lenoir looked sidelong at her, he said not a word to dissuade her. Chapter 4 Much to Mary's relief, the hole was just where she had left it. A part of her had wondered whether it had all been a dream, a fantasy created by the heat and her admiration for Lenoir. But no, it was exactly where it ought to be. She knelt a few feet away and began to manually scan the surrounding floor. Lenoir was bolder, standing on the edge and shining his torch into the darkness. "It's featureless, like the rest of the ship," he said. "Is this how it was when you were here?" "Yes. Only when I got in did... did something happen," she said, pretending to be very interested in the data she wasn't collecting. "Are you getting anything?" "No. Just organic matter, like everything else we've seen." "Perhaps if we dropped something into it," he mused, rubbing his jaw with one hand. "I suppose it's worth trying," she said doubtfully. He took a spare jumpsuit from his equipment bag and unfolded it, then, holding it by the shoulders, dipped it into the hole. Nothing happened. "Damn it." Lenoir tossed the suit to one side. "Look, I'll just get in and see what happens." "No!" she gasped, but he was already lowering himself down, and she could do nothing but gaze in appalled silence. "It's fine, Mary," he told her, smiling. His expression changed suddenly. "Where's the door?" Mary whirled, torch in hand, and saw that he was right. There was nothing but bare wall wherever she looked. She touched the place where the doorway had been, but it was as if it had never existed. Panic rose in her throat to choke her, and then she heard a groan from Lenoir. He was trapped. The hole had closed on him, just as with her, sealing him in up to the chest but leaving his arms free. He looked wildly at her, struggling and clawing at the smooth prison. Mary rushed to help, but her efforts were in vain. There was no moving him, and she feared for the inevitable conclusion. "Oh my god," he whispered, his eyes finding hers in the half-light. He was breathing heavily, his face gleaming with sweat. "It's... oh god, it's..." He gave a little moan and clenched his hands into fists. "I'll... I'll turn out the light and cover my ears," she said in a rush, feeling that her own experience would have been infinitely worse had Lenoir been watching her. And yet... and yet! Seeing him like this was unmistakably turning her on. She picked up the torch. "No," he said hoarsely. "Stay here. Please." He grabbed her wrists so tightly that she wondered if he was delirious. "Mary," he panted, "it's so..." She gazed wonderingly into his face, at his dilated pupils and parted lips and the expression of pure ecstacy that made him, in that moment, the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Pulling free of his loosening grip, she took his face in her hands and bent to kiss him. She meant it to be a gentle touch, but as soon as their lips met, Lenoir crushed her to him, one hand on the back of her head forcing her to deepen the kiss. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, sliding it against hers, plundering with silky smooth insistence. She pulled away just long enough to gasp for breath, and then met his determined assault with one of her own, running her hands through his hair and pressing her lips to his again and again. He made a rough noise in the back of his throat and yanked down her zip, his hand stealing inside to cup the fullness of her right breast, to rub at her nipple until she thought that she, too, might come from it. "Lenoir," she breathed, and found the tender place just under his ear, and licked it. His hands clamped down painfully, his eyes went sightless, and he cried out as he shook with release. Mary held him close all through his orgasm, and then, feeling as though she had just passed from dream to reality, crawled away to let him recover. It did not take her long to realise the awkwardness that lay between them. After he pulled himself out of the now-dormant pit, and after she had retrieved the torch and adjusted her clothing, she saw that he couldn't look at her. She remembered how mindlessly she had pursued her own pleasure, and thought that she had taken advantage of his vulnerable state. The doorway was back in its usual place, so without further embarrassing herself, she took the handscanner and left on shaking legs. When she was gone, Lenoir dropped his head in his hands. "I was right," he whispered. * * * * * * * * It took another long shower - this time, a cold one - for Mary to regain her composure. She didn't want to think about what she had done, but couldn't stop the images from flashing into her mind, as vivid as if Lenoir were right in front of her. The damage was done, however, and if it came to transferring to a new team... well, she would have to deal with that. She heated a packet of pasta and protein cubes in the microwave unit and ate it in gloomy solitude. A chime from her handscreen brought her out of her reverie. She had received a message. When she opened it, she saw with wary surprise that it was from the man himself, from Lenoir. Brooks, Think we can confirm the result now. Thoughts on informing the science team? L The curtness of his language did nothing to allay her misery, but she could and would match his professionalism if it killed her. She tapped out a reply. I'm strongly against telling them anything until we have a definite case. I took no unusual readings and am unconvinced that this was anything but an automated reaction. The rest of the ship may provide more clues, and I suggest we continue our survey as planned. If, on completion, there's no new evidence to report, then we present our findings and include the event among them. Brooks She debated whether to use her first name, but decided that she would follow his lead, and sent the message, spending the next few minutes worrying about the words she had used. Had she been too detached? Would he understand that she wanted them to return to as normal a working relationship as possible? The chime sounded again. Agreed. See you tomorrow. L Mary gave a muted shriek of frustration and threw the screen across the room. Chapter 5 She was eating a breakfast of toast and tea when her door chimed. After pulling a robe over her shorts and tee, she answered it. Lenoir filled the doorway. Like her, he wore casual clothing - a charcoal grey tee that displayed his physique admirably, and loose navy trousers - and his hair was unbound, falling just to his shoulders. For a moment she faltered, made shy by the events of the previous day, and nervous by his steady pale gaze, but opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter. "I've disturbed you," he said, looking at the remnants of her meal. "I was just finishing." She gulped down the dregs of her tea and put the plate and cup in the sink. "Can I get you anything?" "No thanks." He took a chair and leaned heavily on the table. "I've been thinking. There may be many reasons for what's been happening, but I think my theory is the right one." "Go on." She sat down and folded her hands, while her heart beat fast at having him there in her apartment. "We've seen nothing to indicate that the ship is anything but a lump of organic matter. There are no engines and no power systems of any kind, and nothing to even hint at what kind of being uses it." He raked his hair back from his face. "I think it's powered by what we would call thought. We're not well-developed enough to control it, but I believe it's responding to our instincts, feeding off them, if you will." Mary gaped at him. "But there's nothing to support that idea, nothing at all. It's more plausible that our scanners don't know what to look for, and that the technology is well ahead of ours." "I agree that it's highly advanced, we've gone down to the molecular level and still found nothing. It's like a blank canvas in there, Brooks, just waiting for someone to come in and shape it to their will." "You're mixing your metaphors," she told him, frowning. "Look, I'll admit it's a puzzle, but you're not making a scientific conclusion. I can't agree with anything you've said." "That's because you're not listening," he snapped. Her temper rose. "If you had something rational to say, then maybe I would," she retorted. "Fine. I'll show you, then." He took her wrist in a hard grip; unbidden, the memory of his face as he came flickered across her mental vision. "If you'd care to wait a minute," she ground out, "I'll be right with you." With a twist of her arm she escaped into her bedroom to shed the robe and put on some soft-soled shoes. "We're going to the ship?" she asked, on returning. "Yes." He said no more, but hurried her out into the hall and the waiting elevator, where he glared at the floor and tapped his fingers in impatience. She had never seen him so uncontrolled - well, she had, but that time hardly counted - and it was a relief to know that he was human. They only stopped for a torch before heading into the ship. Mary wondered if she should have gone up to the lab first, but Lenoir gave her no opportunity. He marched her into the deepest chamber and set down the light. With a thrill of shock, she saw that the hole had vanished completely. "Did you know it would be gone?" she demanded, feeling the floor around where it had been. "Is this why you brought me?" "No, and no." He seemed calmer now, and closed his eyes, breathing heavily and slowly. "Lenoir, what is it?" Her voice sounded high and nervous, even to her own ears. "Just tell me. I... I don't like it in here." "There's nothing to be scared of," he murmured, frowning in concentration. "It's just feeding off instinct. It's not actually alive." "Sure." She looked around her to see if anything else was different and watched in horror as the doorway shrank before her very eyes. It simply closed in on itself, leaving nothing but that plain smoothness she had come to hate. "The door is gone," she said simply, the pit of her stomach turning in sickening anticipation. Lenoir blinked and turned to see. "Then I think it's working. Funny that the hole is gone, though," he said, half to himself. The floor moved. Two tendrils of ship-matter spiralled up around Mary's legs to the knees and constricted, holding her immobile. Another pair fastened themselves around her wrists, splaying her limbs out wide and making her vulnerable and prone. It happened so quickly that she had no time to try and escape: one second she was free, the next trapped. Her heart beat fast, her lungs filled convulsively, and she cried out. "Lenoir!" He was in the same predicament, and looked no more comfortable than she. "Just stay calm, Mary," he said as another tendril shot out of the ground in front of her. The tip made for the front of her shirt, fastened on, and pulled sharply. The fabric tore and fell away. She shrieked, unable to help herself. Next to go were her shorts and panties, in quick succession, and then she was fully naked. She shut her eyes in despair. To be reduced to this, to know that she was on display, that he could see everything and that she was absolutely without control. It was wrong, it was shameful... but a little voice told her that she wanted it. "Don't you dare look," she said shakily. "Oh, I don't mind the view," he said with a slightly unbalanced laugh. Mary risked a peep and got quite the eyeful - he was nude, and magnificently so. She'd never seen how the strongly delineated muscles of his stomach and hips made a definite V that pointed the gaze to... She blushed and moved her gaze firmly above the waist, but what she had seen between his legs had her salivating. "I don't like this," she whispered, lying to herself, and then that fifth tendril rose up again, swaying unerringly towards its goal. The blunt, rounded head slid between her legs and although she squirmed, wriggled into her folds to press up against her clit. "No," she moaned, but it began to move, ruthlessly stroking and coaxing her arousal out of her. Sweat dampened her skin; she felt the weight of her breasts, the aching hardness of her nipples and the heat of Lenoir's eyes as he looked on her. "Please, no," she said again, because it was too good. She was wet now, slick with her desire, and started to thrust back against the tormenting thing, rubbing the length of it against her, pushing it towards her deeper entrance where she longed to be filled. "Mary," Lenoir gasped. She looked at him, and saw his cock rising up dark and proud, beaded with his own moisture. It was stiff and trembling, almost touching his belly. He was straining against his bonds, the muscles of his arms and legs moving under his skin, his lips parted and flushed. "Please... please!," she cried, and felt the tendril withdraw. Lenoir's fluid bindings moved and extended, lifting him easily over the short stretch of floor until he was right in front of her, his heaving, panting chest brushing her erect nipples and his cock trapped between them. "I'm right here," he murmured, and bent to kiss her hard. She moaned into his mouth and urged her hips feverishly against him. The tendrils lifted her a few inches, something curled around her bottom, and she was sliding down onto his erection. The big blunt head of his sex pushed insistently at her entrance; neither of them had any choice in the matter, and Mary sobbed in relief while Lenoir ravaged her mouth with his clever tongue. Then the tendrils tightened and his full length was forced slowly up inside her. She gazed into his eyes and held her breath, adjusting to the thick heat of his cock and the amazing intimacy of being joined, flesh inside flesh. When he began to move, she responded at once, meeting him thrust for thrust with panting cries. He pounded into her tight, wonderfully wet passage; they were bound so close together that there was nothing to do but buck and rock and slide into and onto each other. "Lenoir, please..." Mary whimpered. "Call me Julian," he panted, and bent to lave her nipples with the flat of his tongue. It was too much. She cried out, trembling all over, calling his name over and over in her release. Her head fell back, her sex contracted around his shaft and he could hold back no longer. He plunged up in long quick strokes, fucking her hard, his entire being focussed on his cock, pistoning in and out of her body. He looked down to see where they were joined, and then came at the sight, waves of white-hot bliss consuming him. His thrusting slowed. As he took her in his arms he became aware that the tendrils had fallen away, and he collapsed to his knees with Mary atop him. Mary and the Organic Ship When they could breathe again, Mary would have moved but for Lenoir's hold on her shoulders. He smiled at her wearily and tenderly pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Don't go anywhere, Mary. Not this time." "I..." She shifted, feeling wet and sticky and wonderfully satiated. He put a finger to her lips. "Don't say anything, either. Hear me out. I did that." "What?" "That was the ship, reacting to me. I wasn't sure at first, but that was the proof of my theory." "I don't understand," she said in confusion. "Mary, I've been fantasising about you ever since I met you." He smiled a little sadly at her astounded expression. "Yes, well. It's true. When you told me what had happened to you, I began to wonder... because it was pretty close to one of my daydreams. When it happened to me, I was sure of it." When she said nothing, he touched her cheek. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Mary's mind was racing. She had, sometimes, wondered at Lenoir's -- at Julian's -- intense gaze. To have that secret hope confirmed was beyond wonderful. As for his theory... "There's a flaw in your reasoning," she said, looking straight at him. "It might just as well have been feeding off my fantasies." The expression on his face changed from disbelief to a fierce grin of delight. "You're joking!" "I thought it was obvious." She was blushing, embarrassed by the admission, which was ridiculous given that she was straddling him and they were both stark naked. "I think you're gorgeous. But you never seemed interested." He laughed, kissing her again. He seemed almost a different man now that he was relaxed. "You seemed to live for your work. I didn't want to be unprofessional, I guess. I was working up the courage to ask you out for a drink." "I think we can skip the going-out-for-drinks part," she said with a wry smile. "Mmm. Let's just go straight to the amazing-sex-all-night-long part," he smiled, and she felt his cock stir inside her. "I couldn't agree more," she said, and leaned up to kiss him. Epilogue Mary opened her apartment door to the aroma of chicken and onions. That it would be fresh, real food, she knew without asking. Julian could cook. She dropped her bag, locked the door, and shuffled her tired feet into a pair of slippers. "How did it go?" Julian called from the kitchen. "Mortifying - but good, I think," she replied, and went in to watch him at work. He stepped away from the pan and gave her a long, bone-melting kiss, which made her forget all about the inquiry and the food and her aching legs... and everything, in fact, but him. She broke away with a gasp before she forgot how to breathe, too. "Mortifying, hmm?" He lifted her easily onto the table and stood between her thighs, bending down to drop another kiss on her lips. "You don't like talking about our fantastic sex life?" "Not to twelve members of the HQ science board, no," she said dryly, wrapping her legs around his hips and sliding her hands underneath his shirt to touch the hard muscles beneath. "I think we might come out of this okay, though." "I bet they got off on it," he murmured, undoing the buttons of her blouse. "We should have taken a camera with us and videoed the whole tentacle scene." As ever, the memory of their first time made Mary shudder with suppressed desire. The ship might have been whisked away to higher scientific echelons - somehow they had made a report after that mind-blowing encounter, and somehow they had escaped with their reputations mostly intact - but she would never forget how it had brought them together, nor how much she had enjoyed it. Julian pulled down her bra and nuzzled her breasts lovingly, kissing the tender curves and bringing her mind fully back to the present. "Shall... shall we eat later?" she asked in a halting whisper as his mouth closed on a nipple and gently sucked. Her hands buried themselves in his soft hair and held his head to her breast. "I already turned the heat off," he said, and she could feel his smile against her skin. "Bedroom?" "How about right here?" she breathed. Julian tugged her to the edge of the table and yanked her skirt up around her waist, while she unfastened his trousers with the swiftness of long practice, and slipped her hand into his boxers to take his cock firmly in hand. She was already wet - somehow he did that to her without even trying - and the slide of her sex against the thin fabric of her panties was a sweet torment. He gasped at her touch, a quick intake of breath that was immediately followed by a crushing kiss. She wrapped one arm around his neck and pumped his shaft in the long strokes that she knew he liked. "I can't wait," he said in a strangled voice. "I don't want you to." She wriggled out of her underwear and pulled him back into the warmth between her legs, guiding his cock to the slick mouth of her sex. "I want it hard," she whispered in his ear, and grabbed his buttocks through the fabric of his trousers, pulling him into her. He needed no encouragement. With one quick shove, he was inside, groaning at the tight wet heat of her, pausing only to kiss her before his hips began to move, slamming her into the table so that she cried out with every stroke, and then he couldn't stop himself, pumping wildly, his desire uncontrollable. Mary loved it, loved him for making her feel this way - and then his inexorable rhythm ramped up her need to the crisis point, and she came in a blinding orgasm, her body arching as every muscle tensed in a delicious paroxysm of pleasure. She felt him follow her, his hands clenching on her shoulders as he cried out her name. They held each other close, panting for breath, unwilling to part from the wonderful intimacy. Neither spoke for some minutes. "Do you miss the ship?" said Julian, finally. "Do I miss the wild tentacle sex, do you mean?" "Well..." He smiled, but looked a little troubled. "I guess I do mean that. It really turned you on." "Julian," she said, taking his face in her hands. "The only reason I enjoyed it so much was because it was with you. I thought you knew that." "I needed to hear it again," he admitted. "I would be quite happy to never see the ship again," she told him. "And I don't expect I will." "About that..." He glanced down with a rueful smile. "We've been reassigned. I got the call just before you came in. Your meeting must have gone really well." "You mean..." "We're in charge of the new investigation. We're going back to the ship." Mary looked at him for a long moment, and then laughed. "I guess we'll get that video after all."