Author:: Lokaia

Rating:: PG-13

Summary:: IT'S A MYSTERY. Naughty stuff, though. Wow. I'm surprised at myself.

Disclaimer:: I do not own, or claim to own, anything associated with Space Cases. It ain't mine, but I love it.


Eyes pass slowly across line after line on a screen. Information hardly processed because the reader has just heard the door open, nearly silent. There are footsteps across the floor, leading to the reader.

The steps are silenced, the figure halting, untouching. Fingertips dig into the small machine, clutching it close, smudging the smooth screen with fingertips as muscles tense.

A hand smooths the wrinkles of a jacket that does not belong to it. Muscles in the chest clench as the fingertips, the palms, of another pass the down the body to the hips.

Nails dig into soft skin, digging under jacket and pants to find the sharp angles of bone. This causes another reaction, hands grasping hands, bodies pulled into each other. The grasp on hip bones sharpens, flipping the body around to face the second. A split second, breathing in each other's own exhaled air, and there is no space between them.

Hands are everywhere, grasping, pulling, smoothing clothing before finally tearing it away. Throughout this, lips connect to lips, to necks, to shoulders, to skin. The bodies back against the desk that had been used for studying, one lifted to the tabletop. Legs wrap around another's waist, lips meet again, hands running, exploring the planes of now-familiar bodies.

Clothes lie scattered across the room, unknown to the figures atop the table. The warmth, the feeling of skin on skin, that is enough for now.

Not entirely enough.

Elsewhere, there is a question on the crew's mind that no one voices, perfectly aware that their suspicions, though unproven, are absolutely true..

"Where are Harlan and Bova?"