Act IV

He thrust into her, over and over. Each time he pushed, the hard rush of his breath quickened slightly until the in and out of air in his lungs matched the in and the out of him into her.

She grew bored of the missionary position and wrapped her legs around his back to grip him by the midsection. With a quick twist, she threw him off-balance as he pushed up and without warning, she was atop him and controlling the rhythm. She preferred to look down at him, rather than have him look down at her. The look of adoration in his eyes as he appeared to have total control over her proved to be very unnerving.

As she began to grind her body into his, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations of his hips moving against her in hungry response. The slow cadence eventually began to build up into a fast and frenetic pace. Soon, her hips pressed down to meet every upward thrust as he allowed his urgency to override her control; he abandoned himself to his ultimate pleasure deep within her until she felt him flooding his release in many shudders and convulsions until he lay still.

With a frown, she looked at him with displeasure as he climaxed before her. In retaliation, she decided to start her motion. She clenched down hard, hoping to trap his hardness before its deflation and quickly moved against it. When he tried to stop her hips from overstimulating him, she slapped his hands away and kept up her pace until she rode the wild and wonderful waves of sheer ecstasy into that cataclysm known as the Orion orgasm.

Beneath her, he whined and thrashed uncontrollably with tears running down his face under the overwhelming and unstoppable machine working him beyond the limits of pleasurable tolerance. When she slowed after reaching her goal, he gasped out, sucking in the blessed air as he exhaled and risked unconsciousness due to the wonderful torture she exacted upon him. "Oh, God," he cried out, wiping at his eyes.

It was their second tryst in as many hours. The two of them made sex a frequent outlet for their mutual frustrations over the course of the last nine months. Everyone aboard ship wanted to share a bed with Ariel Elannis, and she knew it. By keeping a monogamous partner aboard, she allowed herself that valve of pleasure while also keeping herself out of reach of the general population of the ship.

She watched the rise and fall of his bare back as he dozed lightly atop her rack. Under the lighting program she used for just this type of activity, she could see them reflected in the sheen of massage oil left behind from their recent tryst. She enjoyed the scent of the lavender as it soothed her enough to relax while sitting up next to him. The sound of soft snoring emanated from his mouth and with feathery fingertips, she lightly grazed the back of his neck.

When the goose-flesh appeared along the middle of his back, she giggled softly as though the man laying next to her was a toy to be enjoyed rather than an actual person. So lost in thought, she did not realize that he stopped snoring.

"Something funny?" he asked, without moving a muscle.

Ariel shook her head. "I was just amusing myself, is all."

Dawkins continued to remain in his position, though he moved his hand downward to run it along the skin of her soft thigh. "I could think of a few things to help amuse you," he told her with a light squeeze of his palm.

"I'm sure you could, but the last time you went three rounds in one night, I almost had to call sickbay," she warned him. "It's getting to be where I might need another man in my life to satisfy my needs." She felt him bristle, and immediately she wanted to take back what she said.

He pulled his hand away and placed both of them underneath his head. His face turned away from her, to face the bulkhead. "What's stopping you?"

She decided to say nothing, letting his question die within the background noise of her stateroom.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning to face her once again. "I crossed the line."

"A little, yeah," she agreed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated with a sigh. "I just can't help myself."

"You're not in love with me, Dawk. You just love the things I do to your body."

He smiled. "I do love that, but I know how I feel about you."

"I know..."

"So?" He turned on his side, and rested his head upon his left hand to face her.

"So what?"

"Don't you think we would make a cute couple?"

Ariel rolled her eyes. "Dawk..."

"Ethan."

"What?"

"Call me Ethan, please."

She shook her head. "No, I don't think I will."

"Why not?"

"Because, I start calling you Ethan, while everyone else calls you 'Dawk,' it'll raise some eyebrows."

"I meant, in here... not out there. And besides, why would it matter whether or not people found out about us?"

Again, she replied with silence. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet his gaze.

"Oh..." he said softly. "It's because of her, isn't it?"

"That's none of your business," she said. Her tone grew a slight edge.

Dawkins sighed heavily, pushing himself up to rest on his hands and knees. The thin bedsheet slid from his posterior to reveal his nudity to her once again. "I should leave you alone, now."

Ariel nodded. "The mood passed rather quickly."

As he groped for his clothing on the deck, he looked back at her. "She's never going to love you."

She regretted having revealed her unrequited love to him, in that moment. "Because you know her well enough to make that determination, I'm sure," she sneered at him.

"She's married and has a kid. She loves her husband."

"Get your clothes and get out."

"You need to listen to me," he said, turning to step into his jumpsuit. "You need to understand that I lo-"

She cut him off before he said something dangerous. "One more word, and this is the last time you spend the night, here."

When Dawkins opened his mouth, she moved out from under the covers and bared herself to him. With her right hand, she pulled his hand to cover her right breast. "You want this to be the last time you get to touch me, Dawk?"

He quickly silenced himself, looking down. "No..."

She leaned in to him and whispered in his ear, "One of these nights, I'll go off my inhibitors. I'll go off of them and turn into your slave girl, so you can experience the full power of my body under your control. I will suck you dry, and ride you until there's nothing left but ash. Every night up until then will seem like heavy petting, by comparison. Would you like that?"

Dawkins nodded, but said nothing.

Ariel pulled back and stared into his eyes. In a strong tone, she promised, "You say something like that to me, again... and there won't even be a need to get your shit together. I'm going to beam your naked ass on the bridge."

The hardness to her tone forced all the arousal out of him. With it, the blood drained from his face. "Are you serious?"

"You want a demonstation?"

"No!" he said quickly. He stepped back and zipped up his jumpsuit, not bothering to put on his undershirt or underwear. "No, no... you made your point. I apologize."

She gave him a sweet smile. "Apology accepted. But I think it's best that you sleep in your quarters, tonight. I need my space."

"Yeah. Okay." He turned to leave, and as the doors parted to the corridor, he stopped and turned around. "I really am sorry, Ariel."

"I know."

"Are we... okay?"

Ariel gestured with an upward head tilt. "We'll be more okay when you leave."

He offered up a brave grin. "Aye, sir. See you on the bridge?"

"That's where I go for duty, so yeah."

Dawkins reluctantly pulled his hand away from the frame of the hatch, disappearing behind the closing doors as he made his way back to his quarters on deck eight.

Alone within her quarters, Ariel sank down onto the bed. She felt the emotions running through her. She held back the rage she knew stirred up by his words. He had no right to do that to her. Who did he think he was, telling her that Krys would never love her? She knew somewhere deep inside her friend, there lay those days before she met her husband. Those days when they grew very close and formed the beautiful friendship they shared today. On the precipice of a deeper relationship, John entered her life and everything changed shortly thereafter.

And what might have been did not come to pass. When the announcement of their impending marriage arrived, Ariel locked up the love she felt for her deep inside her and carried out her duties as the maid of honor. When they left for their honeymoon leave, she took her own leave and went home. Her father and mother understood the pain she endured in those two weeks, locked within the confines of her childhood bedroom and rocking herself back and forth in the emotional pain the likes of which she'd only read about in novels.

Like then, she curled up on her bunk, drawing her thighs up into her chest while wrapping her arms around them and holding them tightly. She put her head down until her forehead touched her knees, and when she finally looked back up, the cool air ran over her wet cheeks.

First Officer's Log
Stardate 38900.97

In the thirty-six hours since our retreat from the Turkana system, Lieutenant Commander Johansen and Lieutenant Dawkins have completed repairs to the Delilah's Deed for the purposes of baiting our enemy according to the plan approved by the captain. Lieutenant Dawkins will assume command of the freighter for the purposes of the mission, along with a crew of six to assist him in making certain all goes according to plan.

The freighter's former garbage ejection tubes have been replaced by a photon torpedo launcher in case the need to defend themselves should arise, while an external thruster pack has been installed to provide additional speed. Finally, as the freighter itself will be our eyes and ears, Commander Johansen and his teams have enhanced the ship's sensor package and communications array to ensure real-time access to information as Potemkin will lie in wait.

By the exemplary efforts of the entire engineering division, the Deed is ready to fly under her own power once more.

Though, she will not be flying under the same name.

"The Flying Dutchman?" Leone stared at Dawkins, unable to prevent the incredulity in her tone. The pair made strides down the corridor from the engineering compartment toward the nearest turbolift.

Dawkins returned her stare with a large grin. "Yep."

"Are you kidding?" Her finger pressed the call button as she asked.

"Nope."

"Was that your choice, or...?"

"Mine."

The turbolift arrived and allowed them to enter. As they did, she rolled her eyes and told him, "I should've guessed."

"I thought it was an appropriate name." He ordered, "Deck twenty-two, section delta-four-seven."

She pressed her lips together and tucked her hands under her elbows. "You are aware of the origin of that name, right?"

Dawkins smirked. "Of course. Phantom ship. Portent of doom. Oooooo." He wiggled his fingers as though he were conjuring up a spirit.

"Yeah, 'portent of doom' is the key phrase I was hoping to draw your attention to,"

"But it's doom for the people who see it, not doom for the people on it."

Leone threw both hands away from her, keeping her elbows against her sides. "That's because the people on it were already doomed. They were said to be eternally bound to the ship. The ship was doomed to roam the Seven Seas for all eternity. They were never allowed to go home."

He paused to consider that. "Really?" The turbolift announced their destination and parted its doors for them.

She did not hesitate, moving out into the corridor without waiting for him. "Yes."

"You sure?" he tilted his head as he asked, his tone betraying his disbelief.

Again, she stared at him. "Look at my face."

"Aha."

"Yes."

"Well..." He scratched at the top of his head. "That does present a problem."

"There's no problem. Just rename the damned thing to something else."

"Can't."

"Sure, you can."

"Can't." He said with an emphatic shake of his head.

"Why not?"

The doors to the lower observation lounge opened and the large bay windows looking out toward the freighter revealed his reason. Dawkins gestured with his hand toward it.

As soon as her eyes ran over it, Leone groaned with a hand to her forehead. "Oh, shit."

"Yeah," sighed Dawkins.

Emblazoned upon the bow of the ship was the new name and registry of the former Delilah's Deed, in full block lettering for anyone with eyes to see.

"Well," Leone said after a long moment of staring, "I guess you know what this means."

"I'm doomed?"

"Sure, but you're the new commanding officer of... that." She chucked a thumb toward the freighter, and headed for the exit.

Dawkins moved quickly to catch up. "And?"

"The legend says that the captain was doomed to play dice with the Devil for eternity."

"Play dice for what?"

It was her turn to smirk, now. Leone replied, "His soul."