Captain's Log. Stardate: 50069.7
While investigating a quantum blip, Voyager has discovered a seemingly abandoned Vulcan cruiser floating in deep space. Intrigued, I've decided to investigate.
Captain Janeway, in a particularly good mood after a solid night's sleep and a satisfying session of morning masturbation, stands from her seat and saunters toward the bridge's viewscreen. "Lifesigns, Mr. Tuvok?"
"No life signs detected. It appears to be a Vulcan vessel, I'd estimate it to be somewhere around 150 years old."
She chuckles, "Someone wandered a little off course it seems. Ensign Kim. Bring it into the shuttle bay. Couldn't hurt to take a look." Janeway turns to Commander Chakotay, who reciprocates her wry grin.
However, Tuvok is wary. "Captain, this variety of starship was often used by the leisure class of the time, and went, as they say, out of style over 100 years ago. Its presence in this century, let alone this quadrant, is quite improbable."
"Seems harmless enough right now, but your observation is noted, Commander."
Janeway sits again and taps at the touchscreen on her chair, opening a communication channel. "B'Elanna, we have found a Vulcan ship that may provide us with some much-needed equipment. Would you and Mr. Vorick like to take a look?"
B'Elanna responds from engineering. She is particularly aggrieved this morning after a night tossing and turning next to Tom. He sleeps like the dead, while she can't seem to stop her mind from racing from one best-forgotten memory to the next. Even after six years lost in the Delta Quadrant, and even after reaching a level of contentment she never felt on Qo'nos or with the Maquis, she can't help but dwell on her destructive history. A life of mistakes and compromises no matter where she turns until she gets to Voyager. Maybe even after she got to Voyager. It was one of those nights.
"Sure, why not? Doubt the warp materials will help any but we might find some interesting comms equipment. At the very least we'll find some nice carpeting," she quips, trying to pinch the headache away from her eyeballs.
The crew on the bridge laugh, save for Tuvok of course. Though a very young man, he was alive in the era when these ships were in operation. He never saw one in person, but he knew these aristocratic vessels had a reputation for their garishness. Though he would never admit it, the stoic Vulcan did have a certain affection for that more colorful and cavalier era.
***
Once it is safely in the shuttle bay and scanned by Seven of Nine, Chief Torres and Ensign Vorik enter the ship sporting flashlights and phasers. Vorik had been awkward around B'Elanna for years now, ever since his pon farr led him to voraciously pursue her, nearly mounting her in the engine room and causing B'Elanna herself to go on a sexual rampage. Try as she might, B'Elanna never could bury the feeling of his hard cock through his Starfleet slacks as it pressed against her belly, his animalistic breath on her neck as she too succumbed to lusty tunnel vision. Something told her that, even with his classic Vulcan decorum, he couldn't forget that moment either.
The ship is dark, most of its systems have failed over the decades, but the bright yellows, greens, and purples that cover the walls and floors still shine through. Relics and idols are staggered throughout the space, separated by luxurious sofas and daybeds. The majority of the ship seems to be a wide circular lounge with a plasma core fire pit at the center. It seems as though the ship's warp core was not only serving the vessel's flight needs but also establishing an ambiance for the ship's inhabitants.
"Wow, this seems like a bit much for a Vulcan ship," B'Elanna scoffs.
"In fact, many Vulcan cultures were not immune to the more psychedelic style that dominated much of the early to mid-23rd century. Many vessels of the time contained a similar palette, especially more recreational vehicles such as this one," Vorik retorts, heading directly to investigate the warp core.
"Hm, glad I wasn't around back then," she responds as she wanders to the ship's rear, slipping into a back alcove. She finds a clearly more private section of the ship, filled with personal items and the less attractive mechanisms needed to run a ship of this kind. It is much darker back here, and B'Elanna struggles to find her way.
She taps her com badge: "Exploring the private quarters. Looks like there hasn't been anyone here in a very long time. Lots of potential museum pieces though, Tuvok should be interested."
"Confirmed, Chief, let us know if you find anything of use. Janeway out."
B'Elanna continues deeper into the ship, eventually landing at what appears to be a bedroom. While the rest of the ship is cold and dusty, this room has a distinct musk, like a hot Mississippi summer B'Elanna remembered from her childhood visits with her father. Her flashlight scans over the large ovular bed. Its green linens are covered by pillows of every purpose and shape, and its silver head and footboard are adorned by what looks to be Romulan rope, a tool B'Elanna remembered from her wilder days at the academy. She chuckles to herself until the flashlight lands on a strange hole about a meter above the floor in the wall next to the bed. She curiously approaches it, kneeling down to closely inspect the opening with her flashlight. It is only about four inches in radius, and as far as B'Elanna can see it doesn't appear to lead anywhere.
There's a crash from Vorik's side of the ship, causing her to look away briefly. B'Elanna feels a slight brush against the nape of her neck and through her hair. She immediately turns back to the hole, but there's nothing there. She knew she felt something, something like flesh. The thought of the feeling sends a shiver through her spine. She liked it.
She couldn't explain, nor would she ever truly understand, why she could do nothing but open her mouth as she watched a thick, purple-headed cock slowly and deliberately emerge from the hole and through her lips. Without a second thought, she accepts this mysterious member as it slides over her tongue and stops just before her throat. Slowly and sensually, she pulls away, drool slipping from the head as it leaves her mouth. All eight inches, down to a perfectly shaved base, are visible through the hole. Setting down the light and phaser, she slowly runs her tongue along the cock's underside, letting the downward curve slide from her ridged forehead down to her chin. She takes it in her hands, feeling the soft, smooth skin. She licks it again, readying her tiny mouth for as much of this beautiful cock as it can take.
Opening her throat, she inhales. Her eyes water as she feels the large head throb against the back of her throat. Visions emerge of the Vulcan ship in its heyday from the perspective of a mysterious man. She experiences his debaucherous parties around the warp core, orgies amongst the artifacts with humanoids and non-humanoids alike, threesomes with Orion females, 69ing with a Klingon male, etc. Interspersed she also experiences things like diplomatic missions, Federation conferences, Vulcan ceremonies, and a moment of this man grabbing the ass of what appears to be legendary Starfleet Captain James T. Kirk. A whole life flashes like wildfire across B'lanna's mind as she gags on the rock-hard cock. As she glides back and forth, sucking hard on the now dripping member, she can feel her eyes watering and snot sliding down to her lips. She can't tell if this is from the force of her lust or the ennui of so many new memories, nor does she particularly care. In fact, she can barely put two words together right now, let alone a full thought. By way of her salivating mouth, this gorgeous, delicious cock is fucking her whole mind, body, and soul.
She is finally pulled out of her reverie however when a particular scene enters her mind. On the very bed that stands to her left, she experiences herself as this mystery man thrusting his cock doggy style deep and hard into a tiny, caramel-skinned Klingon. He looks into a mirror and sees himself, an older Vulcan with salt and pepper hair, leathery skin, and a bit of a synthehol gut, ramming into an orgasmic B'lanna. Smiling with a seductive menace, he points at himself in the mirror.
She suddenly feels a force behind her head pushing her against the cock and she pulls away just in time for the cock to spray a rope of pearly cum onto her forehead. The cock immediately disappears, but the cum does not. Her sleeves are not enough to wipe away all the tears, snot, and spunk that now cover her face.
She manages to evade Vorik and walks quickly back to her quarters, doing her best to conceal the jizz as it drips and pools around her Klingon ridges. Thankfully, Tom is on the bridge and she has time to throw herself into the sonic shower.
***
"B'Elanna, did you hear me?"
Reality rushes back as B'Elanna finds herself in Voyager's ready room, all of her superiors and fellow officers staring at her expectantly.
"I'm sorry?" she says sheepishly.
"Beyond some warp coils we can use in a pinch and a box of Vulcan back massagers there wasn't much to salvage from our new guest, correct?"
"Yes, Captain, that ship has been floating metal for a long time."
Even after two days, she hadn't told anyone what had happened, not even Tom. Certainly part of this silence was the result of embarrassment, but if B'Elanna was being honest with herself she couldn't deny that the encounter had left her aroused ever since. She knew she would regret it, but she had to take one more look.
