The BLTS Archive - Bike Week, Day 2
by Lyrastar (lyraastra@yahoo.com)

---

Warning: for porny humor with potential squicks--or so I'm told.

Disclaimer:  Paramount owns all

Set in the post DS9 novel universe, wherein Col. Kira heads to the
Womyn's Bike Week on Elanara VII.  I don't think it is necessary to
read the first one to follow this. Both were done for the FFF .

Thanks  to Cait N for all the beta help!

---

Kira woke up with a headache.  Her mouth felt like sand.  She hadn't
had that much to drink: just the one Love Canal.  Maybe there had been
something she hadn't planned on in the glass of fruit juice.  Odo had
always warned her against accepting drinks from shape shifters: you
never knew who might be in them.

A breeze brisk enough to raise goose pimples blew over her body, and
her headache eased a little. Kira stretched her arms.  Her skin felt
like wet sand; her hair felt like wet sand.  Her boots were filled
with wet sand...

Damnit!  She was lying in wet sand!

There was a gorgeous red head dozing on her chest.  Well, that made up
for a good bit of the other inconveniences.  Kira moved her gently to
the side and tried to sit.  Something cold, wet and scaly flipped
against her feet.

Fins-attached to a woman-size tail?  What the hell had been in that
drink?

She surveyed her situation.  Boots:  sagging around her ankles.
Neutral.  Only professionals, masochists and Julian wear spiked heels
after they get in for the night.  Halter top: missing.  Hmm, highly
suggestive, but not Bajor-shattering.  Half the women in the
Fourchette hadn't had one to start with.   Skirt: bunched up around
her waist. That wasn't as damning as it might have been under other
circumstances; it wasn't like there was that much to bunch or that far
to go.  Undies: not applicable.  No helpful data there.
Surreptitiously-she hoped-she put her fingers down and sniffed
herself.

Smelled like...fish.  That about tied the matter up right there.

"Good morning, gorgeous."  Red flopped over and kissed Kira's breast
as she pushed her own hair back behind her ears.  "Sleep well?"

"I don't remember," said Kira.  "How'd I get here?"  She took a better
look at Red:  all delectable girl from the waist up.  All scales from
the waist down and then there were those tail fins where one would
expect feet to be.  Kira wondered how the woman took care of
business--then winced as she realized she might be expected to already
have figured that out.

"Back of a bike driven by a Klingon with an attitude and an
over-active pituitary."

Yeah, like that narrowed it down a lot.

"You asked if she liked long, quiet walks on the beach; she tossed you
off and picked up two Hermellian dragons with power tools big enough
to jackhammer up a roadway."

Not sounding good.  Not good at all.  "Listen," said Kira, "I don't
want to sound like the type to... spawn and run, but I've really got
to be going.  I don't suppose you've seen my top."

"Casualty of war," said Red. "The Klingon said something about the
Ferengis getting one thing right.  She let you keep the skirt--said it
kind of looked like a harness for a targ --but she said the top would
have to go."

"Maybe--?"  Kira looked around hopefully.

"Forget it.  Outgoing tide.  Besides, it looks better off of you." Red
leered appreciatively.  "Easier access, too."

Kira shrugged off the loss.  Less to pack home.  She made a valiant if
futile effort to smooth and straighten the soggy skirt.  Looked like
it had shrunk in the wash.

She reached down to her boots and tugged them up.  Seawater squished
around and the leather no longer fit to her leg.  Crap! A brand new
pair of k'Styr Plaaagh's ruined by the salt.  She stood.

"Hey!" Red called to her.  "You can't go out like that."

"What?"  The mores here on Elanara VII were notably lax, hence the
success of the annual Women's Bike Week.  And the annual Women's Music
Festival.  And the annual Dope 'n Grope.  And the annual More to Love
Festival...

"Nipples and genitals must be covered in public or commercial areas
from dawn through the following four hours," Red quoted.

"That's the stupidest regulation I ever heard," blurted Kira.  That
wasn't strictly true.  There was reportedly one on Ventani II about
not copulating with a corpse one had not killed oneself.  It seemed to
everyone that it should be the other way around, lest citizens go
about knocking of neighbors and service people just for a quickie, but
that wasn't the point right now.

"No, it was necessary," Red insisted.  "Sometimes it's the only way to
get business people and mislaid spouses back home."

"Riiiight."  Kira tried for more conviction than she felt.

"No, they've been serious about enforcing it since the time the Deltan
cheerleading squad came through here.  Everything shut down for a
week.  People were found strewn about the streets and hotels having
gone without food or water for days."  Red shuddered.  "I'd rather not
think about it.  Ugly business, that."

"Why didn't the police put a stop to it?"  Kira asked, curious despite
herself-about law enforcement issues, not Deltan cheerleaders, of
course.

Red blew through her... gills?  "What do you think the police officers
were doing?"

Ah!  "Gotcha."  But Kira still had a little problem.

"So what am I going to do about my situation?" Kira asked.  She
thought about making a boobdana from a strip of her skirt, but being
that the skirt was only about the width of an average Klingon sash,
there just wasn't enough skirt-or there was too much nipple, if one
wanted to look at it that way-to cover both areas.

"Come here," said Red.  She put one finger down somewhere on herself
that Kira figured must be her pussy-at least that answered one
question-and drew out a sticky finger.  Taking much more time and
deliberation than one would think necessary, she rubbed it in little
circles into Kira's nipples.

"Not that I'm complaining," Kira managed as her own pussy began to
make fresh of slick of its own, "but just what good is that going to
do?"

"You'll see."  With a slight wince, Red plucked two scales from her
own waist and stuck one over each nipple.  The pussy glue held tight.
"That should do for a bit," she said.  "Just make sure you get home
before you dry out completely."

That'll be a while, thought Kira as the clit slick threatened to roll
out from her own lips.

Red admired her own handwork-and the foundation for it.  "I like it,"
she pronounced.  "And it'll give you something to remember me by."

"Sure thing," Kira chirped gamely.  Actually, remembering any thing at
all would be great.


Beaches and spiked boots mix like oil and Qanubian fire bugs, so it
shouldn't be a surprise to anyone to hear that after slogging up the
bank through meters of sand and rubble, one rock gave under her foot,
and Kira slipped down almost into a tidal pool.

Hurt?  No.  A mat of green squishy algae had cushioned her fall.  She
tried to stand, but the alga was slick, and she slid feet first the
rest of the way down into the warm, salty water.

Still not hurt, but now a heel had broken off and the scale pasties
had floated away.  Great, just great.  At least the water was warm and
the moss was pleasant against her bottom bits.  She sat for a minute
to collect her thoughts.

The choice seemed clear: sit here for three more hours and grow
wrinkles on her wrinkles, or head up to the road and risk the local
constabulary, who could apparently be bribed with a sufficiently
shapely naked body.

Taking stock of her assets, Kira decided that she had more than enough
to risk the latter.

She bent one leg back to remove the useless boot.

"Don't move now," said a voice.  "It's lovely."

"What!" Kira snapped her head about.

Something soft and supple ran between the place where panties should
be.  She jumped and heard a giggle.  A pliant roughness teased her
inner thigh then was gone.  Something big and soft caressed her bum,
but when she turned to look, the voice was now in front.

"How do you do anything with all those bones?" it asked.  "It's almost
as bad as an exoskeleton."

Some kind of an octo... woman? oozed into her lap.

"We make do," said Kira, trying to isolate all the tentacles.  The tip
of one tapped coquettishly at the crack of her ass; as for the other
ones, who knew?

"Don't we all," said Legs.  "Vacationing?"

"Trying to be.  I've had better."

"Not better than me."  Was that a wink?  Legs turned a highly
suggestive shade of vaginal pink.

Kira blinked.

Legs sighed. "Suit yourself; it's your credit, honey.  I know what
they charge for these package weeks.  I just thought you might want to
get your money's worth.

"Me, I just come here to eat.  Clams," said Legs.  "I eat clams."
With a lightning fast move, she buried one tentacle down through the
sandy seashore, and another under Kira's skirt.   The skirt diving arm
touched the slit of her lips.

"Look, I found one!"  Legs looked triumphant as she produced a
good-sized bivalve from the sand.

"Usually I drill into one before I eat, but sometimes they open up
enough that I can just dive right in.  What do you think I should do
with this one?"  Casually, she tossed the bivalve into the air and
caught it again in the one tentacle as the other got up close and
personal with Kira's slit.

"Or if you'd rather, I can let it go.  It would be a disappointment,
but there'll be other... clams."  Legs flipped the fortunate animal
back into the water.

The tentacle under Kira's skirt took cooperation for acceptance and
seduced the lips apart.  It massaged and flattered the clitoral roots
until they once again filled with hot Bajoran blood.  Then the tiny
tip nudged at her clitoral hood, and enticed it back with the most
persistent softness Kira had ever felt.

Never one to look a gift-fuck in the mouth, Kira spread her legs.

The intensity of the direct massage made her dizzy; the ripples of
warm water hypnotized her skin.  Her eyes rolled back and her vision
doubled.  Now Legs had four eyestalks where there had been only two.

With one hand, Kira hiked up the scrap of skirt, more as an invitation
than a practicality; there wasn't enough of it to be in the way.

"What do you think?"  Legs was now a vibrant shade of scarlet.
"Drilling or eating straight away?"

"I don't care."  Kira moaned as the sensation took her mind.  "But it
had better be well-done."

"That's a given."  The tentacle twisted and flipped, and Kira's clit
was wrapped in a living, vibrating gel.  At the same time, two more
darted up to wreak havoc with her breasts.

"OH!" Kira bucked and slid down the rock, almost underwater.

"We can't have that," Legs murmured.  She rearranged herself straight
away.  She balanced her body between two tentacles.  Limbs three and
four wrapped around Kira's legs.  Five and six stayed busy on the
breasts. Seven pinned her wrists together and held them tightly over
her head, holding her effectively from slipping down again-or moving
much of any other way.

The eighth continued dancing the rumba with her clit.

Kira writhed and wrangled against the onslaught, but the tentacles
held her tight.  Suckers on the tips stuck to her breasts and released
with erotic pops, leaving the skin hypersensitized and tingling.

Kira groaned and panted.   She couldn't move enough of anything to
work up any friction herself, and her clit was notoriously unwilling
to wait.  "Please," she begged.  "Touch me harder, please!"

"Mmm.  I think my clam is getting steamed."  Shifting and shimmering,
Legs looked more than a little restless herself.

"Prophets, yes!" yelled Kira.  "Drill me now!"

"I'm all out of hands," said Legs, sounding rather sad about it.
"Those Berengarian hexadecipods have all the luck."

"I've only got one cunt.  What would you do with the extra hands?"
Kira asked as the tentacle took a ridiculously long time to poise
itself between her lips.

Legs whispered to her exactly what she would do.  The images exploded
in Kira's brain.  She blurted out a string of Bajoran expletives that
would make a free trader blush.

Apparently Legs got the message.  "Pissed off" is a pretty universal
dialect.  One tentacle stayed to stroke the silky inside of her lips,
but the one from her breasts shot down between her legs and plunged
directly in.  Once inside it thickened and widened, until it was about
the diameter of... of... of a Klingon fist.

"Ah!"  With a strangled cry, Kira bucked to meet it.

The tentacle pounded inside of her.  Warm water squished around
filling every cubic millimeter and stuffing her full up to her lungs.

Kira found a rhythm and rocked her hips.  The cramping muscles in her
limbs tensed as she felt the peak begin to build.  "Harder, harder!"
she urged, but the soft octoflesh wasn't made for Bajoran needs.

They fucked and fucked on the plateau, mind-boggling, but never quite
enough.  Kira swore if she didn't come soon she would die from
dehydration: terminal loss of pussy juice.

In frustration, she clamped her pussy muscles down on the tentacle,
hoping to either bend it to her will or strangle the life out of it.
At the moment she didn't much care which.

Now it was Legs's turn to gasp. "How'd you do that?"

Choosing to take that as a good thing, Kira did it again.  And again.
And again.

Legs turned every color under the rainbow.  She changed shapes,
textures and tones.  "Fuck me harder," she blurted as she twisted and
squirmed.

Kira gave a giant squeeze and sucked with all her might.  Legs
contorted in a whirr of limbs and colors.  The tentacles curled and
uncurled.  Seven broke free.  The one inside Kira's cunt stayed put,
but did the most amazing things.  It leapt and bucked and fucked in
all three dimensions.  One gyration hit Kira's B-spot just right and
it was game over.

The first orgasm blew Kira clear to the other side of a wormhole.  The
tentacle kept going, for a total of-- you guessed it--eight orgasms in
all.


When Kira could move, she was still seeing double: four eyestalks.
She blinked.  Nope, still four.

Wait...one body, eight tentacles, her own two hands, but one two three
four eyestalks.

Never let it be said that Kira Nerys was prejudiced, but still, she
thought that having four eyestalks was pretty weird.

"Sorry," said Legs.  She had turned a mellow shade of mossy green.
Almost the same as the tide pool bottom.

"Sorry?"  The bottom?  Kira couldn't see the bottom!  The water had
turned an icky black.

"I'm sorry.  You made me ink."  Legs blushed a quick pink.  "You must
be good.  I hardly ever do that the first time with someone."

"It's okay."  Kira stroked her head.  Well...at least she assumed it
was a head.  It was a tentacle free zone, at least.

"I could use a seaweed roll," Legs mumbled.  She fidgeted around the
sand.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, I know, I know: they aren't good for you.  I quit a couple
years back; I just get the urge after great sex."

"Thanks... I mean, good... I mean..." Kira fumbled for words.

"Hey, listen, it was great, but I don't do seaweed, so I'll leave you
to it, okay?"  Kira stood and tried again to straighten her skirt.

The useless boots had been kicked off in the mix of tentacles, orgasms
and water, but then she remembered the shirt.  "Do you have anything I
can wear up to the road?"  Yeah, right, Legs would just run and go
check her closet.

"Huh?"

"My nipples, you know, I'd rather not get picked up... by the police."

Legs stopped selecting seaweed.  "Did that merslut Lotus tell you
that?"

Lotus?  "Uh...maybe?"

Legs went back to her seaweed.  "There's no such rule.  It just turns
her on to think about her conquests wandering around the island
wearing her scales.  Tramp."

Well who knew?  Octopi can scoff.

"Oh."  Kira wasn't quite sure how to answer that.  "So, maybe I'll see
you around."

"Around Bike Week?"  Legs turned an amusing shade of orange.

"Right," said Kira.  "Well, then, I guess this is good-bye."

"Bye." Legs brushed a tentacle across Kira's face in a tender-if a bit
slimy-farewell.  She paused.  "That's an adorable nose.  I think it's
your best feature.  I hope at least some of our eggs inherit it."

Kira startled, but Legs was already gone having squished through a
crack in the rock and out to sea.


Four-eye stalks, thought Kira as she made her way up the bank.  That's
just freaky. What will they think of next?

There wasn't much evidence of civilization in either direction on the
road.  From the maps she remembered most development was on the south
end of the cay.  She checked the sun, and headed down the southish
direction of the seafront road.


Before long, the roar of a Harley filled her ears.

"Hey, beautiful.  Need a ride?"  A burly rider stopped and turned off
the bike.

Kira looked.  A bulky guy in well-worn leathers with the body shape of
a Tellarite grunted at her through his helmet.

"Uh, no thanks.  I need the exercise."

The rider dismounted.  "Too bad, a looker like you.  I think I could
learn to lust you.  But with my luck, you're one of those asexual
budding spore formers or something like that anyway. Damn shame.  Nice
buds you've got there."  He nodded at Kira's chest.

The rider pulled off the helmet to reveal a lustrous crop of shiny
brown hair and a delicate--and very feminine--face. "Whew!"  He--
She shook her head, and the bob of her hair swung back and forth.
"It's getting warm out.  Time to strip some layers."  She pulled off
the leathers to reveal three sets of the biggest, roundest, fullest
boobs Kira had ever seen.  Each one was doing its best to burst free
from the woefully inadequate tank top that seemed utterly disinclined
to stop them.

Kira was betting on the boobs-but then, she usually did.

Six-Pack shrugged ruefully. "Sorry about the headlights."

"Headlights?"  Kira looked toward the bike.

"Headlights."  Six-Pack stroked her own nipples.  All of them.  Lucky
hand.  "The vibration, the friction with the leathers-- A girl
gets... hard."

"Like I said, I'd love a ride."  Kira hopped on back.  Trying to
straddle the seat decently with her joke of a skirt was going to be
useless, so she decided to bag the decency.

"That's a hell of a crotch shot," said Six-Pack.

"I'm sorry."  Kira ostensibly squirmed to try to cover her cunt, but
mostly she just pushed it down further on the warm, soft, slightly
rough yet giving leather seat.

"Don't be."  Six-Pack ran a hand up her thigh.  "So, where to,
gorgeous?"

Six perfect boobs bounced in front of Kira straining under less than a
millimeter of most inconveniently located fabric made it had to
think-not that it mattered.  "Anywhere.  I'm here for the ride."

"My kind of woman.  Keep your feet up and hang on tight.  I didn't buy
this thing to sit around and watch grass grow."

Kira locked arms around the small of her waist.

"Not there.  Here."  Six-Pack slid the hands up and under the shirt to
rest gloriously under the lowest set of perfect boobs.  With a growl,
the hog revved up, and tore off down the road.

The seat was warm and molded to Kira's body.  The engine, as far as
she could tell, was directly under her clit.  Puffs of soft, slightly
sweaty hair blew into her face, tickled her nose. She pressed her body
into Six-Pack's back and scooted her crotch up to try to press both
seat and butt.

She couldn't make it.  She wouldn't leave the vibration.  It seemed to
be at the ideal frequency.  Her clit grew and swelled against it.  She
rubbed herself against the seat for greater friction and rhythmically
clamped her thighs in and out.  The constant hum held her there on
some perfect fulcrum of torture and delight.  She pushed her breast
hard against Six-Pack's back.  She moved her hands up, up to two of
the most perfect breasts in the world.  They filled her hands.  She
imagined them in her mouth.  The shudders took her.  She pressed her
face into Six-Pack's neck and began to nibble.

Then it happened.  Six-Pack tipped her ass back against Kira's crotch.
The extra stimulation was the straw on the camel.  Kira's hands
clamped on the breasts.  She bit the neck.  She came in a hard
contraction as the vibration continued unsympathetically against her
clit.

"Fuck, honey.  You're going to get us both killed.  Not that I can
think of a better way to go, but I'm not quite ready yet.  I got lots
of things-mostly women-to do."  Six-Pack had stopped the bike.

"Best damn vibrator in the galaxy, ain't it?"  Six-Pack swung herself
off the seat and pulled Kira up after her and into the roadside
meadow.  "Why do you think I bought the damn thing in the first
place?"  She took Kira's hand, pressed it against her crotch and made
kind of a deep purr.

"Take it off," said Kira.  Her free hand gravitated back to the boobs.

"What?"

"Your shirt.  Take it off."  Kira had already pushed it up over the
bottom set and took a moment to thank the Prophets for the bounties of
the universe.  All six of them.

Six-Pack yanked the top off over her head.  The upper two sets bounced
and quivered with the sudden jerk.  So did Kira's clit.

"Eager beaver today, aren't you?"  Six-Pack slid a finger between
Kira's legs to test her theory.  She popped the finger into her mouth
and closed her eyes as she worked the flavor around.  "Mmm!  Bajoran!
My favorite!  I haven't had one of them in ages.  Come here, hon."

They rolled and wrestled where Six-Pack had made them a spot in the
grass.  Command had not softened her; Kira had kept herself in prim
condition, but in the end, sheer body mass won the day.

Six-Pack had her out gunned three to one in more than just the mammary
department.

Losing's not so bad, thought Kira as her face was crushed between the
top four breasts, leaving her hands free to fondle the bottom two.

"Milk, milk, milk!"  Six-Pack's gyrations over Kira's body grew
increasingly less controlled, and her breasts swelled and tensed
pushing and banging into Kira's face with each jerk and thrust. She
slid two fingers up Kira's tat, leaving her thumb to work the clit.

It was good.  It was probably enough to make her come, but right now
Kira was all about the breasts.

Kira sucked and licked and nibbled and slurped. Breast was all around
her.  She couldn't eat it all and she couldn't get enough.  She
couldn't see, but she didn't care.  Everywhere her mouth went, it hit
boob.

She bit a nipple and earned a gasp, then something that sounded
like... a moo?  Then the fingers in her tat picked up speed and
roughness, and the boob was crammed further down her throat.

"Milk, milk, milk!"

Kira sucked with all her might, and drops of warm, sweet milk rolled
over her tongue.

"Milk, milk, milk!"  The chant gained momentum; Six-Pack lost any
semblance of control.  The tat fingers banged and slapped clumsily
now, but Kira had reached that pier-orgasmic threshold where any
stimulation at all felt good.  Besides, she had no attention to give
to her tat.  Six-Pack was crushing so hard against her, boob now
filled not only her mouth but her nose as well.

Through a tiny crack, Kira could draw only a thready wisp of breath.
She twisted and thrashed and tried to break out, but the effort only
used more of the last oxygen in her blood.  She grew lightheaded with
the combined hypoxic and erotic highs.  The world tunneled down to the
pulsing pressure in her clit, the desperate aching in her chest and
the gluttonous excess of breast spilling out her mouth and down her
face and neck.

The thrumming on her clit came faster now, as did the chant, "milk,
milk, milk!"  but the whole thing was now distant and surreal.  Her
consciousness was waning; even the chant was growing dim.  Kira's
lungs burned terribly.  She tried to suck in air, but not even the
wisp came in.  This was it; she was going now.  She only hoped to
Prophets she would come before she died.  She tipped off the cliff and
spiraled down through a glorious free fall of space.  Her lungs
threatened to explode, but her clit did first and Kira orgasm ed in
some magical plane of a feather-light, ethereal existence that she
only hoped might never end.

But it did.  Reflexively her lungs grabbed at the precious air,
jolting her back to the here and now.  Six-Pack had lurched up and was
straddling her hips, now bouncing on her knees and mangling her own
breasts.

"Milk, milk, milk!"  Six-Pack shivered and squeezed, and with a moo,
the top set of boobs spewed hot milk all over Kira's face and chest.
Still frantic, Six-Pack moved her hands lower and squeezed again.  She
mooed hard and the second set blew just as hard, drenching Kira's face
and saturating her hair.

Now Six-Pack shuddered and collapsed to her side.  "Milk, milk, milk."
It was more like a dreamy hum.  She massaged the bottom set of boobs,
still turgid and swollen, but Six-Pack seemed in no hurry now.

Waste not. Want not.  Like a good girl, Kira rolled over and, taking
one at a time, sucked the both of them dry.

"Was it good for you?" Six-Pack asked as they lay resting in the wet
spot.  It seemed to be the theme of the day.

Kira burped.

Six-Pack laughed.  "Good.  I needed that too.  I feel so bloated if I
don't get it regularly."

"I'm a mess," said Kira, pressing the worst of it out of her hair.

"Don't worry; it's good for your skin."

Kira looked dubious.  She'd heard that one before.

"Really," said Six-Pack earnestly.  "Trust me; I'm a doctor."

"Really?"

"Well, no.  But close.  I'm a mammogram tech."

Kira rolled her eyes.  It figured.


Back at the hotel, Kira showered and changed.   This time she chose a
demure baby doll set.  She'd had enough for one day.  Okay, so it was
crotch less, but gee, a girl had to breathe.

"Room service."  The door opened to reveal a petite waitress with
platinum blonde hair, in a French maid's costume, wheeling a portable
replicator.  She had the cutest little nose; big, wide Heisting blue
eyes; and a charming way of batting her lashes.

"Mm."  French gave Kira an appreciative look.  "Coffee, tea or me?
Fair warning, our coffee bites and the tea is weak, but it's your
call.  Don't let me sway you."  She swung her hips hard enough to
affect continental drift.

"Any other day I'd take you up on it," said Kira, toweling her hair
dry.  "But right now I'm pretty beat."  She tossed the towel onto a
chair.

French shrugged.  "Just as well really.  I'm on probation here after
the incident with the Deltan cheerleading squad."

"You bagged one, did you?  I bet that's a story."  Kira accepted a
glass of tanya and drank deeply.

"One what?"

"Deltan.  You said-"

"No, I said the squad."

"As in... the whole squad?"

"All forty-two."

"And lived?"

French smiled.  "It was the cheerleaders they were worried about.
My cunt is required to register as a lethal weapon on sixty-four
worlds and colonies."

Kira set down the glass.  "Actually, I do have a few minutes and no
firm plans."

"No, I think you were right the first time."  French pulled a card
out of her cleavage.  "Try this room.  It should be more your speed.
Klingons, Lessicans, Go rn-nothing too rough."

"Thanks.  Maybe I will."

French punched a few buttons and out popped a tray.  "House special.
I suggest you eat up; you'll need your strength."

Humming a melodious Risa love ballad, French swished out of the
room.


Room  1048w2.  Kira checked the number twice.  It didn't sound bad
inside.  The door slid open.

Kira had underestimated the marvel that is modern soundproofing.

The place was a zoo... in heat.  Everywhere naked and near naked women
promised sex, violence, or best of all: both at once.  An Ocampan
wearing only fuck-me red stilettos, hung upside down with one leg
wrapped around a pole while an Orion with a stunning ass finger-fucked
her from above.  To the side, six Denobulan did some sort of group
thing.  With the mix of mouth and limbs and spots, it was a little
hard to tell who had what where in who, as-of all things-each one was
dressed in a rather modest, though apparently easily accessible, gown.

In a corner, two Moravian played with whips.  Kira didn't have the
heart to tell them they were doing it all wrong.  On the sofa, a
Lessican was lying spread-eagle on her back while a Slay was hard
at work worming her entire serpentine body inside her date's cunt-face
first.

But the kicker was center stage where a Bajoran sub was shackled and
being tortured by a Cardassian dome.

And the Bajoran liked it.  The signs of excitement were unmistakable.

Kira had to look away or vomit.

"All alone tonight, sweetie?"  A human put her arm around Kira's
waist, moving her fingertips over Kira's hip.

Kira whirled.  "Your handball be alone if you don't move it."

"Whoa!  My mistake."  Hand tossed up in the air, the human wandered
off into the crowd.

"It's good to see you here."

Kira turned to a familiar lilt in the voice, but it wasn't aimed at
her.  To her right, two Trills kissed and embraced-closely.

"Hey, now!  Watch it!  I'll give you just twenty minutes to take your
hand off my pussy," said Dots.  Spots laughed, and they went off
together into a back room.

French with the lethal tat was starting to seem pretty good right
now.

A hand touched her elbow.  "You're too beautiful to be so sad."  It
was an Aenar, as blind as they were rare, clad in a wispy silver
almost-dress.  Banks of snowy white hair cascaded down past her waist.

"Not a very convincing pick up line, considering."  The lie did
nothing to improve Kira's foul mood.

The woman laughed.  "You mean because of my eyes?  Don't be so
ethnocentric.  Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I can't see."  She
rubbed Kira's elbow again.  "And I can see that you don't belong
here."

Telepaths! Potent telepaths, if she remembered her social studies
correctly.

"Now you've got it.  See, sometimes eyes lead you astray."

"Can you read my mind?"  Kira tried very had no to think about the
morning with Red.  And Legs.  And Six-Pack.  And the French Secret
Weapon.  It didn't work.

"Yes, but I-we-wouldn't."  Right now I'm only sensing what you're
about to say and the aura... demeanor... affect-pick a word; there's
no real translation for non-telepaths-that you voluntarily project.

"And it's beautiful.  Yes, I would."

"Would what?"

"I would like to go back to your room."

Kira balked. "I thought you wouldn't read my mind?"

"Nothing you aren't projecting."

"So you're saying you know what I want before I do?"  Testiness
overflowed.  Project that, wench!

Opal chuckled softly.  "Never.  I'm certain you know your own mind at
all times. I am saying that words are slow, but your responses are
not, and neither is my mind.  I am saying that I don't belong here
either, and that this situation could be to our mutual advantage."

Kira allowed her elbow to be taken and held, and together they entered
the hallway.


The room had been made up while she was out.  Someone had turned down
the bed.  Frenchie, perhaps?  Kira rather liked the envisioning her
leaning over the bed as the tiny little black skirt rode up and over
the curve of her ass.

Whoever it was had left two chocolate mints and one pink vibrator on
the pillow.  It was those little touches that made this hotel an
island favorite.  Still, Kira was still a little raw from the day's
events-that sand really does get everywhere-so she tossed the vibrator
aside for now.

The chocolates she ate-both of them.  Hey, Opal was blind, right? Who
would know the difference.

"Would you like a drink?"  Kira stopped at the replicator.  She fixed
herself another tranya.  She was still feeling pretty dry and the
chocolate had made her mouth a little pasty.

"No, thank you." Opal sat on the bed and swept one hand
disconcertingly near to where the two chocolates had lain.

Eh, it would have just gone to her hips.  Really, Kira figured she had
done Opal a favor.

"But, if it is not too much to ask, I would like-

A chocolate?

"--your name."

Phew!  "Nerys.  Kira Nerys."

Opal repeated it.  "Lovely.  Mine is Drymarh."

"Drymarh.  That's nice."  Opal would have been easier on the mind and
vocal cords, but Drymarh...Yes, it suited.  It was worth a little
extra work.  Kira cleared her throat.  "So what...  What is it you
would like to do?"

"What would you like?"

"I'm game for anything.  I don't get much time off; I need to use it
well."

Drymarh shook her head.  "No.  I mean, what would you like to do?"

"Honestly?"  Kira flopped on the bed.

"Your discretion, of course, but there is little point in lying to a
telepath, whatever her ethics and forbearance."  The voice held a
tolerant measure of humor.

"Honestly, I would just like ten minutes to relax with some one and
just be me.  No pressures, no responsibility, no expectations, nothing
but being."  Only after she had said it did it strike Kira how true
it really was.

"Come."  Drymarh beckoned.

Kira put her head in her lap.  Drymarh stroked her forehead gently.

"That feels nice."

"I'm glad.  To me too."

The touch moved down her face and chin, to her cheekbones, her jaw,
her lips.  It seemed to connect with the nerve endings between her
thighs and she shifted restlessly on the bed.  It was sensual
and... nice.  Too nice to disturb, really.  She could lie like this
for hours.

But that wasn't fair.  Drymarh had needs too, and as the swelling in
her shorts reminded her, she was ready and willing for another go.

But it seemed that there was always something.  Kira wracked her
brain.  Regular Andorians she knew, but Aenar...?  They were so rare,
and with all the work of running the station, there just hadn't been
time for Kira to research everything before she had left.

When in doubt, ask.  It saves time, embarrassment and joint sprains.
"Uh, how do your people... copulate?"

Drymarh made a wry face.  "I come from an ice world.  Efficient
distribution of the geothermals is a recent thing.  For us, copulation
is short and when necessary.  Why do you think we are near extinct?"

After a beat, Kira recognized her cue to laugh. "That sounds...
frustrating."

"No.  It isn't.  We prefer to make love than to copulate."  Drymarh's
hand continued to play over Kira's facial lines, in her hair, down her
neck.

"How so?"

"Would you like to find out?"

Couldn't get much weirder than the rest of today.  "Sure."

"Think of some your romances."  Drymarh moved her hand slightly on
Kira's head.

Legs, Six-Pack...

Drymarh chuckled.  "No, not indulgences.  Your romances.  You have had
some, I think."

"Yes."

"Show me."  Drymarh adjusted her hand again.

Kira closed her eyes and slipped away.


She remembered Quisri from the Shakaar Resistance Cell and how she
looked flushed, ripe and on her hands and knees.  She remembered the
days when they had nothing but each other and the fight.  And she
remembered the nights when even the fight was pushed away for the
space of a treasured hour or so.

She remembered the surprise on Quisri's face when she came for the
first time from Kira's hand and not her tongue, and how her lithe body
had shuddered at the precipitous climax.  The expression had remained
for a long time after as they lay together on that quiet, starry
night.  It was not so different from the look of surprise she
wore-presumably forever now-when the Cardassian mortar blew her chest
open wide.

Then Kira had nothing but her fight.


She remembered Bariel and the higher plain of love they had shared, a
love that didn't need the physical to make it feel complete.  A love
that would always be secondary to his for the Prophets--as it should
be--as he asked of her.

She loved him for that and resented him for that, both at the very
same time.  But it had made him safe, she thought.

When he had approached her to love with their bodies, he had shown no
disappointment, no reaction at all at her response.  "I will ask for
what you care to give me, Nerys.  Nothing more--but know that also, I
will accept nothing less."

As time went on, she had come to see that there were not two types of
love--not in any meaningful way--only one.  Just as there were not two
types of kisses, or two types of mouths, or two types of hands.  As
surreptitiously as Bariel had coached her soul back from war to
spirituality, so did he lead her in this by following complacently
where she chose to go.  So perfect was his understanding of her, that
on the night when she finally took him all the way, it was not because
of his ache for it, but because she had to have him in her or burst.

Burst she did.  He, moments after.  To her astonishment, it seemed the
most natural thing in the world.  A little messier, a little smellier
perhaps, but as odd as it seemed, no different in any way that
mattered. How odd to find that after all the years.

If there was only one kind of love, it followed that there was only
one kind of love to be made.  The body of the partner was not an
important distinction, only a potential source of variety.  And fun.

Kira Nerys was learning to have fun.

In the time they had, they made all the love they could.


She remembered Jadzia after Bariel had died.  Jadzia had waited weeks,
but as patient as Trills are, there was only so long one friend could
watch another in pain.  "I'd hoped you'd feel that you could come to
me," Jadzia'd said.  "I hoped that we were more than officers assigned
together."

Kira pushed at her hair.  She was so tired, but the last thing she
ever wanted to do was go to bed. That was where there was nothing at
all to do but feel the vast extent of his absence.  "Of course I know
I can talk to you any time... but I can't."

Jadzia raised her brow.

"I'm second in command.  I can't have people see me this way.  To
command, I need respect.  I need to appear unassailable."

"You need to be held."

It was so tempting.  She was so alone.

"I'm three-hundred years older than you, little girl.  You can't
believe one day would make a difference in my opinion of you."

Kira had laughed.  It was a mistake.  It threw out some precariously
maintained equilibrium and the whole sham fell apart.  Jadzia grabbed
her and held her until Kira was herself again.

"How do you stand it?"  Kira had asked, wiping her hand across her
nose.  "You joined Trills.  How do you stand watching those all around
you die?"

"There are no secrets."  Jadzia stroked her hair, her neck, her back.
"It hurts us just as badly, over and over and over if we let it.
That's why joined Trills are discouraged from romance."

"You don't fall in love?"

"Every one loves."  Jadzia had kissed her head.

O, Bariel.  "Not this way," Kira had breathed into her chest.

"No.  Only if they're very lucky."

"Or unlucky."

"No."  Jadzia's voice was quiet, but completely self-assured.

"No."

Kira tried to pull away, but Jadzia looped one arm around her hips and
waist and kept her there.  With the other hand she tested Kira's
cheeks. "In the program they tell us to love all we want, and to make
love all we want, but never mix the two.  That's the risky part,"
Jadzia had said.

Kira had never shied from risk.  Not for herself, that is.  "I don't
want you to love me." Kira spat the words out. "Everyone I love dies."

"Okay then, I don't love you."  Jadzia kissed her nose, her lips.

"I don't love you either."  Kira and kissed her back more forcefully
with parted lips and waiting tongue.

Jadzia caressed her shoulders, her breasts.  At the cue of Kira's
moan, she undid the seal and started to peel the major's uniform down.

"You too."  Kira mumbled with some difficulty around Jadzia's mouth.

Jadzia paused.  "Nerys, if this isn't right--"

"Isn't right?  This is the first time in four weeks I haven't hurt.
At least, not everywhere."  Kira had lain down and held out her arms.

Jadzia had come to her; the science uniform, however, did not.  And
they made sweet love until Kira could sleep at last.


She thought of Miles, how he'd come into her room that one night.

"Hi." She'd rubbed her swollen belly.  "He's kicking up a storm; want
to feel?"

"Uh huh."  He'd knelt down and put warm hands upon her.

"Over here."  She'd moved his hand a little lower.  "Oh, he moved.
Feel down here."

He'd held hands upon her in wonder.

She wasn't used to the pregnancy hormones.  She felt flushed all over,
hot; her heart had sped up.  She shifted on the bed.  "Miles-"

His hands were on her belly, but his eyes were on her face.  The hands
moved even lower.  The eyes did not.  All the blood rushed to her
groin, and for an awful moment, she thought that she was going to
faint.  A hand caressed her thigh.  It crept inward.  His eyes asked
invitation, but soon the issue would be moot.

She grabbed his wrist.

Miles didn't press it, not physically, at least.  He looked every bit
as confused as Kira felt.  "Nerys, I've never felt like this before.
I don't love her any less, but you're carrying my child.  There's a
part of me inside of you growing into something wonderful.  How can I
not want to-- How can I not--?"

She kept her voice gruff.  Or tried to.  It didn't much work out that
way.  "You can't.  I can't.   We can't.  Miles, if you love me even a
little bit, please help me not to do this.  My job in this is hard
enough.  Be strong for both of us."

His eyes had cracked, but he moved his hand.  "Nerys."  No one with a
soul could have ignored the plea.  She stroked his head.  He made a
soft cry and laid his head down over where his child grew.  He hugged
her and pressed her belly to his face as if it held all that mattered
to him in the world.

When Keiko had come home, she'd found him reading to Kira and rubbing
her feet while she sneezed and tried to work a PADD.

"Looks cozy."

"Hi, honey."  Miles had jumped up and kissed his wife.  Kira looked
away.

"Molly missed you.  Will you put her to bed?"

"Sure.  Be right back."  Miles kissed Keiko again and left the room.

"Take your time."  Keiko had sat down on the bed.  She'd rubbed Kira's
belly-her son.  Their son.  "How is he?"

"Doing great."  Kira sneezed.

"You?"

"Great."  Kira sneezed again.  "Just great."

Keiko kissed her belly where the baby flipped.  Kira sneezed again and
again and again.

"Thank you," said Keiko.  Her voice was full with sincerity, her face
with many times as much.

"It's not like I had a choice."  Kira dismissed the remark.  They'd
been over this.

"Oh yes, you did."

Kira looked up sharply.  This wasn't about the baby.

"Thank you,"  Keiko repeated.  "From all of us.  My family." She
leaned over and laid a soft and lingering kiss directly on Kira's
lips. Lips parted.  There was tongue and there was understanding.
Then it was gone.

Keiko straightened.  "I'll see you in the morning."

She'd gone to find her husband and left Kira alone.

But the sneezing fits quit for the night, at least.


Oddly, Kira remembered Odo from back to front.  Maybe not so odd.
Nothing about him had been like anyone else she had known.  She
remembered how he glowed as he shifted away for the last time into the
great link to save the world he'd almost lost before he found it.

She remembered how he had told her, "I'm not familiar with human
form... down there."

She had shown him hers, and he had made one just like it, except she
thought she could see a little of the brassy changeling tone in the
pale luster of the skin.  Odo made the pussy twitch and wiggle and
jump and pulse, and Kira had gone down on the newly formed version of
herself with playful delight.

No matter how many times a night he made her come, Odo always stopped
her before she could reciprocate.  Finally, she had asked him why.

"Can't you guess?  If I lose control, I'll just--"  He'd made a
helpless, melting gesture with his hands.

"So?"  She'd said.  "You're a changeling.  It's hardly a secret."

"I don't want you to see me that way."  As rough as his voice was
normally, Kira could hear the difference.

"Odo!" She'd grabbed his shoulders hard enough to hurt a solid.  "I've
killed hundreds of Cardassians.  I've been tortured, watched friends
tortured, seen children and babies slaughtered and burnt.  Just how
bad do you think a colloidal form is?"

"That's different.  You--"

She'd cut him off.  "And how would it make you feel, if I wouldn't
have enough faith in your love to let you see all of me?"

She'd stroked his face.  The form quivered and threatened to give.
She'd stroked his chest.  He'd made a noise.  She lay down and pulled
him on top of her so she could watch every moment, every thrust, every
nuance of expression now manifest upon his false face.

When he exploded, it was as a living thunderstorm.  Warm colloid
rained over her and settled in a swirling pool within her cunt.  It
covered her skin; it filled her mouth, it ran through every crack and
crevice and pore of her.  For the first time, she tasted him--the real
him.

She traced her fingers through a globule on her stomach and marveled
as the golden droplets ran around as if on their own accord.  She lay
with him and played with him in the mercurial dry puddle in the bed
until it was time for him to reform--arms first.  He had clung to her
as the rivers and droplets converged and collected, and the Odo the
rest of the station knew again lay on her stomach.

"Don't ever leave me," he had his face still pressed to her belly.

"I won't."

And she'd meant it.  Soldiers don't make that promise often.  If he
hadn't left her, she supposed she never would have.

Kira thought of the early days, before that, when they had been at
each other's throats, then not so much, then when they had each wanted
to be at the other's throat-and other body parts--in a different kind
of way.

She'd been so close to never having him.  It's funny how these things
work.


Kira thought of Ro Laren, her not so very new any more security chief.
A searching woman trying desperately to be as tough as she tried to
make everyone believe she was.  Kira knew the type.

The type--especially flush with youth, idealism and energy--appealed
to her now as much as it ever had.

Kira also knew what Ro had wanted when she came to her quarters that
night... off duty and out of uniform.  "Colonel, if there is ever
anything I can do to make your life easier, just let me know.  I'm at
your disposal now."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll keep that in mind."  Kira had cut her
off.  "I've been very impressed with your work so far.  I couldn't ask
for a better or more professional officer."  The stress on the last
two words had been just enough to make her point without embarrassing
either of them...if Ro was smart enough to take the hint.

"Yes, ma'am.  I'll see you in the morning then.  Again, thank you for
the opportunity here.  I won't let you down."

Of course she was.  If she weren't, she wouldn't be on Kira's station.

Kira had watched her pretty ass leave with a little private lechery,
but no regrets.  A colonel couldn't.

Well, she certainly couldn't if she never tried.


Kira sat up.

Drymarh broke the contact. "Something unpleasant?"

"No, not at all.  It was wonderful."

"I hope so.  It's your life...and the only one you get... unless
you're a Gyferion, that is.  In that case you get a couple more
chances."  Drymarh slid her hand down Kira's top.

Gently, Kira pulled the hand out and kissed it.  "I'm sorry, but I
have to go.  I have to meet someone."  She still had three days of
leave left.

Drymahr's antennae twitched.  "I thought you were alone."

"Exactly.  That's the problem."

Drymarh stood up.  "You are a delight Kira Nerys, and I am delighted
to have shared love with you.   And, I think that somewhere there is a
young lady who will be just as glad as I."

Kira kissed her.  "Thank you.  I certainly hope you're right."

---

The End

---

March 2006