The BLTS Archive - She by JoAnneS --- It had been, he reasoned, some several months. If he wished, he could calculate it, perfectly and exactly, assemble it within nanoseconds. More and more, lately he did not wish such things. More and more, he wished he might reclaim what She had given him. "I can make you human... isn't that what you've always wanted?" She came at night, to whisper it through the shadowy conduit of his dreams. More and more, her shade was present through his waking hours; correspondingly, he was willing to sleep less and less which mattered not at all. He was a being more mechanical than organic; he did not require sleep. It was an idea that ought to comfort him, he supposed, now that he was capable of feeling comforted. It did not. "What do you mean, you haven't slept in weeks?" Another female, less majestic than the Borg Queen, with an ordinary voice, a fragile human beauty. What was her name, this one? The organic side of his brain struggled with it, stuttered into silence; the impulse was relayed swiftly through the nest of circuits: Lieutenant Mithrais. "I do not require sleep." He kept his face perfectly impassive, the way it had been before when he had been merely mechanical and nothing else. He concentrated on the glossy board in front of him, glistening with a bluelight sheen, his own pale face reflected there. "That's bullshit, Data, and you know it." She came around to face him, sliding underneath his mask of reserve. "You once told me that, as soon as you began initiating the dream program, you rapidly became dependent on it. Some kind of redundancy that your creator built in so you'd have to sleep, whether you wanted to or not." He made a noncommittal noise, moved away. "Data---" She caught his arm, a surprisingly strong grip. "Is it bothering you?" Her green eyes caught and held his gaze, searching him. What was it about these strong females that they could pierce your soul and leave you dangling? *But you have no soul, android* Yes. He'd forgotten. "I have no idea what you mean." But he did, and he caught himself in this lie again, remembering... *You will be a fit companion for me, Data... I can make you human... isn't that what you've always wanted, to be human?* "The Borg." Her mouth tightened at the corners, trembling. "They assimilated you, and that woman---" "Please. I would--" "Data, I think you should talk to Captain Picard." He stared at her. *What on earth for?* But he found himself standing outside the captain's door, later, with no clue as to how he'd gotten there. "Mister Data..." Picard was reading an old-style paper book. He did not seem surprised to see the android; perhaps he had been expecting Data. Perhaps he had been wondering about the same thing, about Her. "Sir, I'm sorry I didn't mean to intrude..." But something must have alerted Picard, something about the naked anguish on his face. Amazing that a mechanical man could feel such bright and vivid pain. "Come in." Picard caught his arm and ushered him into the room. The captain's quarters were as spare as all the rest of the ship, but decorated with objects that were strongly reminiscent of Picard's personality, that reminded one of him, whether he was in the room, or not. "Please, sit down." "I---" I am not comfortable here, he thought. I really ought to leave. But Picard was offering him a chair and it was only right that he at least try to appear gracious. "Now then." Picard clapped his book shut in a brisk manner, turned his handsome eyes to Data, smiled. "What can I do for you, Mister Data?" *This is a mistake. I really ought to leave. *But he could see Her spectre gathered about the corners of the room, hovering in the darkness and he knew that, if he left, she would pursue him relentlessly, would not allow him to rest, and tonight would be another night that he would crouch in his quarters, alone and afraid. Always afraid, now that he had come fully into his own emotions. "Sir, when you were assimilated by the Borg---" It stuck in his throat, silencing him. He fidgeted in the chair, not certain as to what he should do with his hands. "Mister Data." He glanced up, into warm hazel eyes that held a universe of compassion. "Sir-- -" Something broke inside of him, like fear, trickled down between his shoulder - blades. "---I find that I am---" *I find that I am haunted by Her, and by what she promised me. I find myself wondering if she might have made me human, given time enough and opportunity. *And he was weeping, and he realised it suddenly, and was ashamed. "Sir, she said she could make me human, she said---" Picard slid forward in his seat, so close that their knees were touching. His face was pale, as if he were very frightened, but his expression was open, his eyes wide. "Once you have been assimilated by them, it's never the same." He's whispering, the android thought. Yes, this is a secret that only we two know. He's whispering because it's secret, and unknown. "They come at night, when you're sleeping... you can't get them out of your mind... you remember the things they made you do---" *Oh yes, I remember... *Lying flat, while her inhuman fingers roamed, fleshy, disembodied spiders, sliding down to press the hard swell of his thighs, slip between his legs. The pleasure had sizzled through him then, a vicious jolt, and he remembered other times when he'd felt this; she could make him feel it again... The room around them: cool and empty, all the others gone, fitted into slots, immobile. He remembered it, the way her mobile mouth curved, first into a smirk, then opening wide to swallow his cock... It felt like violence, that... he remembered how he'd twitched underneath her, drove a hand down to crush the back of her neck, forcing her to stay there while she did that thing that he liked -- yes! He liked it, machine that he was, but partially organic, oh no, they never mentioned that... There was flesh and blood underneath the silicon and the duranium, there was a ghost in the machine... and her mouth, working him in a strange silence, while the cries she wrung from him, *that* sound, echoed all around them... It felt like being twisted on a spindle, tighter and tighter, until it could go no further, this was the end of it --- --- and it was as if he were impaled, only it felt better than anything, exploding first in the brain, layer under layer, synthetic and organic, and shivering through him, and that was his voice. He was crying out like that, he was making those noises... "I remember it all, Sir." He finished telling it, wondering what this meant. He wondered what Picard would think of it. "Data --" There were beads of sweat standing out on Picard's smooth forehead, and his eyes were huge, dilated. "I don't know what to say." There was a silent space, perhaps for several seconds. Something ticking over, something quietly forming, like a decision being made. A hand, moving on his knee. The gaze of warm hazel eyes. "I'm so very sorry," Picard whispered. "So very sorry, Data --" Warm fingers pressed against his cheek, smoothing his synthetic flesh, so very gently... His eyes slid closed and he swayed towards it, wanting it, wanting to be touched again. This was what they didn't know: he liked to be touched, even casually; he yearned for it, desperately thirsty for the press of flesh against his body... Picard's warm fingers lingered near his mouth, sliding on his lips, and it was easy to slip his face slightly sideways, take those fingers into his mouth, turn and cup that other face gently in his palm. It was happening again, the way it always did and how did it become so? A heat in his belly, his cock getting hard, as if he were really human, instead of this... Did they know about it, the way the heat rose in his belly, the way he got hard, the way he *wanted* it, just like any one of them... Of course not, they would not have thought... But this is good... This is comfortable and right, and he understands... He could not put a name to Him, could not think of him as the Captain, or Picard, or Jean-Luc. It didn't matter, did it? He was safe and comfortable, and as long as Data stayed here, even for a little while, it might not be as painful. She might see him with another, and vanish. There was always hope. He was gentle, moving to touch and kiss, to nip lightly with his teeth. He swayed, moaning softly, as those other hands undressed him, unfastened the closure of his uniform, drew him into bed. So good, to lie here, pressed like this against the skin of another... He was here, and as long as Data was with Him, it was safe. And this was delicious, opening himself, welcoming the embrace of another... His mouth tasted heat as their kisses grew more intense, more serious, as the embrace moved inexorably towards its purpose... The Captain was beautiful, and Data was glad. He traced the Captain's nipples with his tongue, smiled as He was racked with shivers. There was so much to explore here... There had been women, but there had never been another man. He had not even been a remote possibility before this thing which had occurred and which now bound them together... It would be best if he were to produce as much pleasure as possible... It had nothing to do with programming, he thought... Data understood the feeling of rough skin underneath his tongue, of hard male thighs opening to him... His cheek, pressed against His flat belly, mouth open to lean and swirl his tongue around the head of the Captain's cock... sticky-sweet, warm and pulsing with life. Something occurred to him... He remembered that he liked some other thing that had to do with this... Was he brave enough? It didn't seem likely that his advances would be rebuffed... "Tell me what you want," he whispered. He was a lean, naked column, an imitation of flesh, stretched languidly beside his captain. His golden eyes were heavy-lidded... Yes, he felt it too! His cock was rigid, smooth and artificial, yet throbbing too, and weeping fluid... *Just touch me once* he thought... It would be over as quickly as that. Picard breathed, whispering, his long fingers resting in the android's dark hair. "Data..." "Tell me." Insistent now; it was important. "Suck my cock..." Oh, yes... There it was, that frisson of delight he felt whenever he heard words like that... He enjoyed hearing it, the way humans said such things, with a flicker of guilty pleasure... He drew the Captain's cock deep into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head, his hands spread on the Captain's hips, holding him. He imagined things that the Captain might do to him, afterwards: he thought about the Captain sucking his cock, the Captain lying on him, the Captain fucking him, his cock buried deep in Data's guts... He felt the pressure building, from deep inside his belly, throbbing in the testes, that delicate sack of pseudo-skin, dappled with sensors... *I can make you human, Data... Isn't that what you've always wanted?* He drew back, sliding lips and tongue, his fingers buried deep in the cleft of the Captain's ass... He watched His face contort, the finely-wrought mouth open wide as Picard climaxed, his fingertips buried in the bed, shouting hoarsely... And it was quiet for awhile... "Data, tell me what you want from me..." The Captain was lying close to him, their bodies touching safely, drawing a hand down Data's back. The touch made him shiver and strain close, desperate for it. He knew immediately that there could be no half-measures. "I want you to fuck me," he said, and shivered, feeling a certain guilty pleasure. He was prepared to turn, lie face-down, wasn't that how it was done? But no --- Picard was drawing him down so that Data lay atop his body, Data's weight pressing Him into the mattress, Data's cock sliding into him. Everything swirled for a moment, he was losing it, trying to hold on but not knowing if it were possible... a blood-hot tightness gripping him, pulsing. He spread his arms wide, braced himself against the bed, so as to not be heavy, not weigh upon the Captain unnecessarily... He felt the pleasure of it, like beads of sweat upon his skin, but that was impossible, he wasn't real, he wasn't a real person... *Did you feel that, Data?* And leaning down, She did, to breathe across the tiny hairs embedded in the skin of his arm, the human skin she'd given him. It was good, it was impossibly good, it was skin against skin and being inside of Him, even better than being inside Her, because She was a machine and, although She was warm, it was the false heat of the cyborg, the deceptive heat of a monster. He was moving inside the Captain, buried deep inside His guts, feeling the press of Picard's knees against his sides as he pumped into Him. It was concentrated *there*, right underneath his testes, even though it couldn't possibly be, it *was* and it felt real... And he couldn't think anymore, it was just overwhelming, and he remembered to be gentle, to pull back and not thrust too deeply... The point was to love and not to hurt, to give pleasure and receive it... One arm whiplashed in against his side, fingers stabbing blindly, buried deep in the sheets... his other arm, his right arm, dexterous, stretched above his head and held him steady as his orgasm took him, ripped a fiery path through his belly, blazing in his brain... His back arched, independent of him, and he emptied himself, pouring fluid deep into the Captain's body. He left something of himself there: a marker, a spoor... And She was silent, finally. He fancied that somewhere outside the cabin, it had begun to rain: a peaceful rain that washed everything away but this. --- The End