She was going out of her way. In ten minutes she'd be on duty. In the other direction.

But his quarters were this way. Hot, dark and inviting. Like him.

The corridor was empty. She let her hips sway silkily, provocatively; she had ten minutes more to be a woman and not an officer.

A door opened. Hot hands grabbed her before she could revert from sashay to stride and pulled her inside. It was cool and dark. And confined.

She reached out a hand and a foot, could feel rows of shelving and walls that were close together.

"Where--"

A hot mouth engulfed her words, a fiery tongue probing and scalding and igniting. The fire threatened to take all of the oxygen from her lungs, but before the blackness swallowed her mind, it suddenly abated, lips separated and two people gasped for air in the darkness.

She rested her forehead on his heaving chest. The top of her head hit his chin with every shuddering breath. "Somehow... I recall... your quarters... being somewhat larger... and lighter," she panted.

She felt more than heard the rumble of amusement beneath her forehead.

"Indeed."

She shivered in the dark. "Your quarters are warmer, too."

"You are cold?"

"Aren't you? It's got to be at least ten degrees colder in here than the rest of the ship."

"It would be illogical to expend energy heating a room that is uninhabited."

"It's inhabited now."

Long arms encircled her waist, brought her chest to chest with his hot body. "In that case, I believe it would be prudent for us to share body heat for warmth."

She giggled into his shoulder. "That's original."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's the oldest trick in the book. A guy nobly offers to share his body heat in an attempt to share... something more." She leaned harder against him.

"Indeed?" He tightened his hold on her. "And you do not wish to share something more?"

"Well, yes. But..." She groaned as he ran a hand up the inside of her thigh. She tried half-heartedly to bat it away. "We're both on duty in ten minutes."

"Eight point six three minutes."

She tried again to push the roaming hands away... and failed. She didn't want them to stop.

His lips found her ear. His voice was rough and whispery soft. "Were you not, in fact, on a path to my quarters and not to your post?"

"Yes, but--"

"Did you intend to see me on a matter of ship's business?"

"No, but--"

"And are we not doing exactly what you had planned when I retrieved you from the corridor?"

"Well, yes--"

"Then it would be illogical to protest." He left a trail of kisses from her ear to her jaw.

She shivered again, but not from the cold. She lifted her chin - a movement so slight as to be nearly imperceptible, but it was enough for him to accept as an invitation to continue. His mouth latched onto hers as his hands slipped underneath her skirt. Through ease of practice, his mind flooded into hers.

The emotional impact of his mental presence, hot and heavy and aroused, manifested itself physically, and she backed into a shelf.

"Mmmph." Large hands prevented her from falling, but her head spun as if she had tumbled from a great height. She stood, shaking, while those hands kneaded the abused muscles in her backside. "You know, your quarters really are more comfortable."

Their minds were still linked, and she sensed his amusement.

"We can go to my quarters if you wish, but we will lose precisely fifteen point five three seconds in getting there. You mentioned we had little time."

"Indeed," she mimicked. "We'll have to make this a quickie, then."

"A 'quickie'?"

For answer, she grabbed him by his waistband and pulled. His trousers were unzipped and around his knees before he had a chance to ask more questions.

The likely meaning of 'quickie' registered with him, and in seconds, he was within her, lifting her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. His movements were urgent and strong, and with as much logic as he was currently capable of contemplating, designed to induce a satisfying completion in a short space of time. His strokes became harder, and then, with a final, deep, dip of his hips, he exploded within her, triggering the spasms of her climax.

The darkness enfolded them as they stood slumped, spent and shivering, unsure who was holding whom up.

"How... long until... duty?" she whispered against the soft material of his shirt.

He seemed to sigh, a happy, illogical sound. "A little over a minute."

"That's hardly accurate."

"I find that my sense of time has been somewhat... disturbed." He sounded faintly surprised.

She smiled. She loved how she could affect him this much. "We'd better go."

"Indeed."

They separated, immediately felt the cool air on parts that had been so warm. They righted their uniforms in the dark, hoping they could make themselves presentable by touch alone.

The light of the corridor made her squint; his eyes adjusted much better. A group of maintenance crew passed by as they exited the small supply room and she tried not to blush.

He didn't seem concerned, however. "Thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant. You were most helpful."

He started walking and she nearly had to run to catch up. This part of the corridor was empty. "You don't seriously think anyone would believe I was helping you catalogue supplies in there, do you?" She frowned. "That was pretty devious and untruthful for a Vulcan."

His eyebrow lifted. "I told no untruth. Before you arrived, I certainly was checking the inventory of the storage compartment." He allowed his arm to brush hers as they walked. "And you did assist me."

"Spock! Who checks the inventory in the dark?"

"Who will suspect a Vulcan of indulging in a 'quickie' in a storage compartment?"

He wore a faintly smug expression all the way to the bridge.

FIN

Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters are owned by Paramount; story content belongs to Mrs Spock.

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