The Dirtiest Daddy's Taboo

by Alina Nicholson

  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 simpl
y 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.

  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 togeth
er, 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.