#i have not written reverse strip tease in so long forgive me

[lyricalt]

painstaking?

BLU Sniper/RED Spy - rated M (nsfw)

+++

Before Spy can start dressing himself, Sniper stops him with a firm grip around his wrist. For a moment, Spy resists, straining against Sniper’s grasp. There are goosebumps forming across his skin, the hairs on his arms and chest rising in the morning air. The camper has stayed cold through the night, but Sniper believes he’ll have Spy warmed up soon enough.

“You’re going to make me late,” Spy says with the barest hint of irritation. He doesn’t test Sniper’s hold again, but Sniper can feel the bones of his wrist shift as Spy’s fingers curl into a fist.

On the dining table behind him, Spy has laid out his clothes in an organized row; trousers draped over the chair, jacket folded in crisp lines under it, and the rest of his accessories in order of placement. For a man completely naked except for the mask, Spy is unsurprisingly composed, despite Sniper holding the dress shirt hostage behind his back.

Sniper gives Spy’s wrist a pull and likes the challenge when Spy refuses to move for him—so Sniper leans in himself, willing to concede. With Spy’s dress shirt over his forearm, Sniper runs his free hand down the length of Spy’s cold arm until he can reach across and pick up the pair of sock garters from the table.

“Ain’t gonna be late. I’ll help,” Sniper mumbles in Spy's ear while he’s pressed against him.

Spy lets out a short laugh. He sways closer, and Sniper thinks it might be for the body heat, putting his chest to Sniper’s flannel, but Spy only wants to breathe back into Sniper’s neck, equally as threatening. “You’ll have to forgive me if I have my doubts about that.” 

Sniper grins, sharp as nails, and lets go of Spy so that he can drape the dress shirt around Spy’s shoulders. It takes a bit of pushing and forceful maneuvering, but he gets Spy to pull both arms through the sleeves, covering the goosebumps. When Sniper buttons the cuffs for Spy, he notes the reddened skin around Spy’s wrist, the imprint of his own fingers still there.

Spy’s hand flexes, his pulse bounding under Sniper’s touch. He glances at the garters with an amused look.

“You think you can dress me?” he asks, lip curling, but he watches Sniper’s every move, even when it’s just Sniper gently holding the front of his shirt, both hands close to his neck, using the minimal amount of movement to do up the first button at Spy’s throat. 

Sniper lowers his head, putting his teeth just beneath the buttoned collar.

“If I can take you apart,” he says against Spy’s chest, “I can put you back together.”

When Spy doesn’t answer, Sniper takes that as permission to trail his mouth lower before he continues down the line of buttons. There are five in total, so that means five lingering kisses and soft bites before Sniper has Spy’s shirt all buttoned up and he’s down on his knees.

The sock garters are still in his hand. By now Sniper is sure he’s gotten the point across. He circle his palms around Spy’s left calf, looping the garter around. 

Spy stares down at him, expression unreadable, cock now flushed just enough to make Sniper hungry to see it hard and wet.

Sniper glances up. Without breaking eye contact, he adjusts the band for a perfect fit in one smooth motion. He’s touched those calves before, and knows the width of every limb down to muscle memory from either fucking or fighting. He’s seen Spy dress plenty of times. He’s watched from every possible angle. With the scope. With his own eyes. Taken off every piece himself. Dreams often of doing it over and over again. For all the mystery surrounding Spy, there’s still a routine to the man, starting from something as simple as putting on clothes. 

Funny how that feels like unraveling a deep, dark secret. Sniper can see Spy start to have the same realization, the barest shiver through his body, and a part of him hopes it scares Spy a little. 

He reaches for the table, grabbing the next set of clothes.

“Now,” Sniper says, jerking his head to the chair. “Sit.”

Spy sits.

On go the socks and underwear. Sniper gets to lift each leg up, savoring the tense muscles under his hands. He doesn’t go slow, but he doesn’t spare the act of spoiling himself with excessive touches to Spy’s hips, little nips that leave teeth marks or dark bruises against his skin. At one point, Sniper has to rest his forehead against Spy’s thigh, staring blankly at the pair of briefs he had dragged up to Spy’s knees. 

He likely looks like a drooling dog that isn’t allowed a treat, but that’s fine. Spy looks worse, panting quietly in his seat with a cock that’s starting to drip at the tip. 

“On your feet,” Sniper says, and he doesn’t mean for his voice to come out as a low rasp.

Spy stands, and Sniper pulls up the briefs, over Spy’s erection, and gives only the briefest touch to tuck it beneath the band. 

Spy’s only indication of discomfort are two rapid blinks to the ceiling, a steadying breath, and his hands clenched at his sides. Sniper is almost impressed until he starts looping the shirt stays around Spy’s thighs, and Spy lets out a soft, broken sound that sends the blood shooting down to Sniper’s dick. 

The opposite stay gets put on in half the time, the shirtends attached in the right places. With the trousers, they reach an unspoken truce to have Spy’s hands at Sniper’s shoulders. Truly unnecessary, but Sniper spends some time down by Spy’s socks again, enjoying the way Spy grips near his neck, before pulling up the red pinstriped pants.

The zip up job is a little challenging, the front of Spy’s briefs damp enough that Sniper is surprised Spy doesn’t complain. Instead, he’s treated to Spy’s stuttering hips, the desperate involuntary little roll as Spy’s clothed erection bumps against Sniper’s knuckles. The zipper slides over the bulge of Spy’s hard cock and it takes every ounce of control Sniper has to not give it a squeeze or put his mouth over it. 

He stares for a second too long. One of Spy’s hand tightens on his shoulder while the other grabs something from the table.

“Belt,” Spy growls, putting it into his hand.

Sniper threads the belt around Spy’s waist. The way Spy breathes heavily beneath his jaw while they press close has a chance of undoing him, but Sniper’s well practiced with finding each loop and even knows which notch to stop at. 

Next, the tie. Sniper has to loop it around his own neck first, allowing Spy’s critical eye to follow the way he does up a windsor knot. Funny enough, Spy looks the most hot and bothered he’s ever been when it passes inspection, letting out a low whistle. Sniper slips the knotted tie from his head and settles it around Spy’s collar. Spy tips his head up, all on his own, and Sniper thinks he likes this as much as the initial resisting. 

He tightens the tie, the way he knows Spy likes it, and flips the collar back in place. Spy leans into his hands, and Sniper almost goes to pieces then.

Vest. Gloves. Watch.

And back where they started, at Spy’s wrists. This time, Spy’s hands are covered in soft black leather, but Sniper can remember the circling red bruises well enough. He straps the watch in place, guiding Spy’s palm to his lips. It'll be the only kiss he’ll give now, over cloth and leather and metal.

Spy drops his hand, limp at his side, and lets Sniper help him into the jacket. After the final button, Sniper tugs at the pinstriped lapels, just as Spy would have done had he dressed himself.

The look Spy gives him is nothing short of scorching, eyes pitch black and burning. He can feel heat radiating off Spy, tempting him, but rather than being burned, Sniper takes two steps back. 

Turning around, he reaches over to open the camper door. He glances at his own watch, as if noting the time, and looks back at Spy.

 They’ve got minutes to spare. If Spy ends up being late now then that’s on him. 

Sniper smirks, holding the door open.

“See ya at work,” he says, admiring how put-together Spy looks, all the heat gone from his eyes and already replaced by a lofty expression. 

He has the image of Spy memorized, down to the detail. Any further down and it’s going to be blood and bones, and Sniper’s killed him enough to bet that he can piece those together too.

Spy cloaks out.

[sshbpodcast]

Tales from the Holodeck: TNG Fanfic: Caitlin’s Story

A Star to Steer Her By is closing the book on Star Trek: The Next Generation with our much anticipated fanfic series “Tales from the Holodeck”! With our random draws for our special guest characters in hand, we’ve written new adventures for the crew of the Enterprise-D for you to enjoy! Listen to the whole episode here, or read on below for Caitlin’s story!

[images © Paramount/CBS]

“The Pulaski Maneuver”

by Caitlin

Random Picks: Katherine Pulaski, Leah Brahms

She wasn’t exactly what you would call a blonde bombshell, but she was no granny, either -  you could see from her bright eyes and sarcastic smile that she almost certainly broke her share of hearts in her heyday. One of those hearts was the subject of her interest for the evening, and she had dressed the part. Her black synthosilk dress fit just right (just as the slaughter of animals was largely a thing of the past thanks to replicators, they had long ago given up raising silkworms just for some soft, shiny fabric), and she had employed a touch of makeup to accentuate her already enviable features.

Katherine, you look pretty damn good tonight, she thought, looking around her. You could give these kids a run for their money…

She sat at a freshly clothed table in a small restaurant, a silently hovering but empty chair across from her awaiting its occupant. The decor was nothing spectacular, though the holo-chandeliers never ceased to impress new visitors - they cast beautiful pastel light and rotated around the room, creating a soft kaleidoscope effect. She had chosen the spot not just because it was one of her favorites, but also because she knew the lighting would give her that vaseline on a camera lens look, and tonight could be an important night...

Katherine was pulled from her thoughts and hopes for the evening by a familiar voice calling to her from across the room. She saw a handsome dark-skinned man approaching, with shocking bright blue eyes; his dress gave him away as a Starfleet officer, yellow for engineering. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.

“Dr. Pulaski! Imagine running into you here!” exclaimed Geordi, leaning down to embrace the former CMO of the Enterprise warmly. “It’s so wonderful to see you - how have you been? How’s the on-planet life?”

“Geordi, how nice to see you,” said Pulaski, remembering at last as she returned his hug stiffly - she was not really a hugging person. “Things have been well - as well as they can be, trying to teach advanced medical courses to students who would rather be adventuring on a star ship already. Not as exciting as my time on board the Enterprise, but when Starfleet Academy calls, you answer. You finally took my advice and got the implants - I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“Oh, right - you haven’t seen me out of my visor!” he grinned. He decided to skip telling her about the time he grew new, fully functional eyes - Pulaski wasn’t the type to believe in something so far-fetched. “But say, have you heard the news? Deanna and Will are finally tying the knot!”

A wry smile crossed Pulaski’s face, and she shook her head. “No, I hadn’t heard - I think my invitation must’ve been lost in the mail. Though it’s interesting you ask, I’m meeting Kyle Riker here a little later.” 

Most people might’ve seen that as a tactful way to end a conversation, but Geordi wasn’t most people, and though he was one of the best in terms of engineering, tactful he was not.

Geordi grinned wide, and made sure to log this information away to tease Will. He had heard rumors that Pulaski and Kyle Riker had been… intimate friends, and he knew Will had heard the same ones. He could almost see his face now.

“I’m actually meeting someone for a drink here too,” Geordi offered. “Remember Leah Brahms?”

“Of course I do,” Pulaski replied. “Anyone worth their salt here in Star Fleet knows Dr. Brahms. But why is she meeting you for a drink?” Pulaski tried to keep her question on the right side of rude, but after the infamously embarrassing first encounter between Geordi and Leah, she couldn’t think of any reason, beyond fatalistic female politeness, that would have brought the two of them together in such an intimate fashion.

“Well, I’m sure you know we became great friends after meeting on the Enterprise,” said Geordi, settling into the chair across from Pulaski to continue their conversation. 

“I didn’t realize that, no,” said Pulaski, taking a long sip from her water and wishing it was something stronger. “Fancy that.”

“Well, yeah, we’ve run into each other at a few conferences, exchanged a few subspace communications - mostly when there have been changes made to how I’m running the Enterprise, but they’ve always been very friendly exchanges,” said Geordi, who Pulaski was beginning to think was definitely confusing politeness and mutual friendly interest.

“I see,” said Pulaski. “It’s… nice… that the two of you are able to continue as colleagues and work together with such a... rapport.”

“I thought so too,” said Geordi seriously. “And, I know she’s married, so I have no expectations, obviously, but I’m hoping to ask her tonight if she’d like to go to the Troi-Riker wedding as my date!”

“As your… date?” Pulaski choked on her water. “Surely you can’t be serious…”

“I am serious,” said Geordi. “And don’t call me Shirley.” He grinned, but his smile faltered when Pulaski didn’t respond in kind. “More of a friend date, really, not a date-date.” 

Pulaski fell silent for a moment, holding Geordi’s gaze with a hard stare, before sighing and taking another sip from her near-empty glass.

“It sounds to me like you are in need of a very serious medical intervention,” Pulaski muttered, serving Geordi some serious side eye.

“What? I don’t even feel unwell! How could you determine I need medical attention after what I just - “ 

“Trust me, you need it,” Pulaski said flatly. “It’s a procedure I created and perfected, and in lay terms it’s called the Pulaski Maneuver. It’s used for extraction -

“Extraction?!” Interrupted Geordi. “My god, you think I need to have an ORGAN removed because I suggested -”

“I never said an organ would need to be removed, Mr. La Forge,” said Pulaski. “What needs, in fact, to be removed, is your head from your ass. Are you really suggesting that, after your incredibly unprofessional run-in with Dr. Brahms on board the Enterprise, you would actually have the… unimaginable gall to ask her to be your date to a wedding?” 

“Listen, you don’t really know what you’re talking about here,” said Geordi, gently, like he might with a child mid-tantrum. “Leah and I had a good laugh about it after all was said and done, and besides -”

“Geordi, I can’t believe that, in the 24th century, I have to have this conversation with you,” Pulaski sighed. “We’re supposed to be beyond this now. Some perfect future.”

She folded her hands over her water glass and stuck Geordi with an unflinching stare. “Geordi. Your behavior towards Leah has been incredibly inappropriate. If she had reported you to your superiors, you would have been stripped of your rank and probably black listed from Starfleet altogether.”

“I think you’re making this too big of a deal,” said Geordi nervously, glancing at the parties at nearby tables and gesturing with his hands for her to keep it down. “Please, Katherine, if you could just lower your voice -”

“If it’s not a big deal, why do you care if these people hear about it, Geordi?” spat Pulaski. “Your inappropriate relationship with your Holo-Leah Brahms is not unknown among some of Starfleet, though because she didn’t want to file a report, it’s largely gone ignored. That much is bad enough. To then treat Dr. Brahms with such disrespect when you found she wasn’t who you thought… it is absolutely disgraceful.”

The diners at nearby tables were looking around, trying to not seem obvious in listening to the quickly escalating “friendly” conversation. 

“Now I’ll tell you what you are going to do when Dr. Brahms walks in here to meet you,” continued Pulaski. “And you are going to ask her something, Geordi, but do you know what you’re going to ask her? You’re going to ask her for forgiveness for your disgusting behavior. You are going to do so after acknowledging that you have behaved, frankly, as a cad, and that you are ashamed that things happened the way they did. If I hear from anyone that you actually asked her to attend the Troi-Riker wedding with you, Geordi, I will reverse the Pulaski Maneuver and stick your head so far up your ass you’ll be able to see your vocal cords. Do we have an understanding?”

Geordi leapt up from his chair, blushing a deep crimson red. “Katherine, I-I had no idea,” he stammered. “Le - Dr. Brahms has always acted so friendly when we talked, I had no clue she was so upset.”

“No, you wouldn’t, would you, Geordi?” scoffed Pulaski. “Too wrapped up in your own hurt pride to think about how she was feeling, and what a horrible position you put her in. Did you know that in the 21st century, brilliant women in science and technology fields went through this kind of disgusting harassment regularly? Brilliant minds were forced to flee from their fields because they were the subjects of mockery and gross misconduct from their male colleagues and worse, their superiors.”

Geordi stood, mouth agape, in shocked silence. “Katherine… you’re right,” said Geordi. “I’ve been such a fool, a disgrace to my uniform.” He buried his head in his hands, and Pulaski thought she spied a glimmer of gathering tears in his unearthly blue eyes. “Thank you, Katherine, for making me see the truth, the reality of how I’ve behaved. I will tell Leah -”

“Tell Leah what?” asked a cautious but friendly female voice, from behind Geordi. 

Geordi jumped, visibly startled by the arrival of his intended dinner partner, ran a thumb across his eyes to slick away the threatening tears, and turned to look at Dr. Brahms, who stood before him with an eyebrow raised. “Leah! I, uh, I was going to tell you that Katherine sends her regards, but now you’re here and she can send them herself, can’t you, doctor?” He turned back to Pulaski, eyes pleading for her to not rat him out.

Pulaski cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, shooting Geordi one last quick glare before turning her attention to Leah and smiling. “Dr. Brahms! Wonderful to see you. How are your husband and the children?” 

“They’re doing well, thank you,” said Leah warmly, crossing to Katherine and greeting her with a quick kiss on each cheek. Leah was dressed in what looked like her usual work clothes, with one of her signature turtlenecks, her hair scooped back into a loose twist at the back of her head. To look at her, you would think her ready for a fight, not feast. “Always lovely to run into you. Geordi, did you still want to grab that drink?”

Geordi looked at the two women, and saw them as both wearing battle armor - one for love, one for war. He smiled. “I would like that, Leah, if you are willing. I… would really like to talk to you about something important. I… realize what an ass I’ve been, and I owe you an apology. Can we find a quiet table to talk?”

Leah looked shocked, and Pulaski looked smug. Another successful use of the Pulaski Maneuver. Now if only Geordi could keep his head on his shoulders and not up his - Well. She would give him the benefit of the doubt. For now. “You two enjoy, it seems like you have a lot to talk about,” said Pulaski, craning her neck to see around them. It was then that she spotted Kyle Riker walking into the bar, and smiled. As tall and handsome as ever, she thought, a smile curving one half of her mouth. “Besides, my visitor has just arrived. Go on, you two, before you make yourselves a nuisance.” She gestured as if to hurry them along, and then smiled and waved at Kyle. He saw her, smiled, and started on his way over.

As Geordi and Leah walked across the room to find a quiet spot, Geordi overheard Kyle say, “Katherine, did you hear about Will? He and Deanna are to be married. And I wanted to ask… would you be willing to join me as my guest for the blessed event?” 

Geordi hid a smile. He knew the conversation he was about to have with Leah would be unpleasant at best, but at least he had some serious dirt to throw at Will next time he saw him. But he knew he had learned something more valuable than romantic gossip that day, and he vowed, silently, to be a better man for it.

—

We’re moving on to new Star Trek and Star Trek–related series we’re sure you’ll enjoy, so be sure to keep listening on SoundCloud, follow us on Facebook and Twitter, and pull your head out of your ass, Geordi!