"Lieutenant, what is our E.T.A.?"

"Twelve hours, Sir."

"And where were those cruisers last scene?"

You watch from your post as the General leans over Lieutenant Tarrin's shoulder, gazing upon her computer screen. And you know how hard she's struggling to keep her mind on his questions. You and she are friends, especially since you are the only women on the bridge crew. You both, like the rest of the crew, admire the General's leadership, fear his rare anger, are perplexed by his cool reserve, and are often caught off-guard by his dry wit and clever humor. But what the two of you know that the rest of the male crew doesn't is that you'd both give your right arms to see that intensity of his focused in a more...unclothed manner.

As your eyes admire how well his pants fit him, your imagination strips them off. You supposed you should have a little shame, but you are quite certain there are men on this bridge doing the same to you much more frequently than you do it to the General. You have no presumptions about being some sort of goddess, but the fact is that you have all been on this ship a long time without any sort of shore leave. Meaning no outlet for this gang of frustrated soldiers. And while you'd rather not imagine how the rest of these boys handle their tension, you don't mind giving a good deal of thought to how the General handles it. As far as you know, especially given the lack of humanoid women on board, he doesn't have a lover to sneak into his quarters late at night. Women tend to stick together on missions like this, so if any of your friends were in on that, you would certainly be in the know.

You glance back at your computer screen. Nothing to report. Of course, it's always a plus when things run smoothly, but that can cause a bit of boredom on these long, quiet shifts. You recall a conversation you and Tarrin had last night about the anticipated size of the General's non-military issue appendage based on some haphazard random calculations and suppositions. You inadvertently giggle as you recall the hysterics the two of you were in last night.

"Lieutenant?"

You gasp and sit up straight in your chair as the General gives you a cool glance, his eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Sir?" you saw rather innocently.

"You find something funny?" he asks, voice expressionless as ever.

"No, sir." You can tell by the annoyed pursing of his lips that you are in for it.

"Then why did you laugh?"

"Private joke, Sir. I'm sorry."

"Are we not keeping you busy enough, Lieutenant?" he asks, his elbows bending and his hands coming to rest on his hips.

"It won't happen again, Sir."

He eyes you for a moment longer. Then he turns away from you. "Colonel, you have the bridge."

You breathe a quiet sigh of relief, lucky to have gotten off the hook this time. You concentrate on your work as you begin to check your data.

"Lieutenant."

You pause, looking up slowly to regretfully find the General looking at you. "Sir?"

"I want to see you in my office when you shift is over," he says sternly.

"Yes, Sir," you say.

He turns and quickly exits the bridge.

Shit. You're really in for it now.

~*~

"Lieutenant."

"Yes, Colonel?" you say, looking up from your screen.

"You are dismissed for the night. Better head to the General's office," he says with a pleasant smile.

"Thank you, Sir." At least he's a decent guy, letting you off a bit early so you can get the scolding over with. You get up with a quick glance to Tarrin, giving her an obnoxious look as she tries not to laugh as you march to your temporary doom.

You decide you will tell the General that you were thinking of a funny joke somebody told you yesterday. Of course, now you have to think of a joke that is actually funny. The fact that he's a Jedi isn't going to help your lot one iota. If he actually did see what was going on in that twisted little brain of yours, you'll be off this ship by tomorrow morning.

That's all you need. A reprimand in your personnel file stating that you were musing over the size of your C.O.'s wanger.

You exhale loudly as you approach the door to the General's office. Then you sturdy yourself and walk in, stopping halfway across the room when he looks up at you with a steely glare. You almost pull your much loathed 'Sir, General, Sir' bit out of fear, but then you remember how much this Jedi disapproves of that sort of barking. At least you have that to be grateful for.

His face softens slightly. Just slightly.

"General."

"Have a seat, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Sir." You sit down and hold your body straight, meeting his gaze without appearing aggressive.

"Lieutenant, I run a tight ship," he says.

"Yes, Sir."

"I understand that shifts can sometimes get long and tiresome. But I prefer that you keep your amusements to yourself," he says. The words are polite enough, but the tone leaves little doubt that you will do exactly as he says.

"Of course, Sir."

"It is important that I remain in control of my crew...and of myself. I don't ask any of you to abide by any rules that I do not already follow myself."

"Yes, Sir."

"So I am assigning you to latrine duty in fitness facility."

You pause. Your mouth dropping open slightly. "Excuse me, Sir?"

"You are going to clean toilets, Lieutenant."

You bristle, trying to hide it.

"After all, it is not yet the end of your shift, Lieutenant."

"But, Sir, Colonel--" You stop as his eyebrow slowly arches up. "Yes, Sir."

"Lieutenant, you may think me harsh, but I cannot have my bridge crew distracted and unfocused. Levity is one thing, daydreaming is quite another. We are a warship."

"Yes, Sir."

"This is not the first time you and I have had this discussion. Perhaps a little humiliation will cure you of these infractions."

You feel your cheeks blaze as you squeeze your hands to control your anger at this Jedi robot sitting in front of you. The simple fact is that the men get away stuff twice as bad.

His lips purse together again. "Are you accusing me of something, Lieutenant?"

Your eyes widen, and you swallow hard. So now your thoughts are not your own?

"Dimissed, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Sir." You stand up, salute abruptly, and walk swiftly out of his office.

~*~

"Rat bastard," you grumble under your breath as you scrub a toilet in the women's locker room. Oh well, the worst is yet to come. You still have to clean the men's locker room and shudder at the very thought as you flush your last toilet.

You walk into the small janitorial closet and dump out your bucket in the utility sink. Now for the men's room. You walk to the door that leads directly into the fitness room just to check if there are actually any men in there who could check the locker room for you before you go waltzing in and get stuck cleaning the entire ship with your toothbrush as punishment for that offense.

You look out the door...and then promptly drop your bucket, the empty plastic rattling noisily against the tile floor as your cleaning supplies bounce and add a nice racket to the echo of the bucket. You growl at yourself as you pick up your mess and then stand up again, taking a deep breath before casting your eyes upon the very scene that caused you to drop everything in the first place.

All crew members are assigned to a certain number of hours per week in the fitness room in order to combat the effects of long-term space living. But never in all your months on this ship have you ever seen the General in here. And now you know why. If other female crew members were allowed to see this, there'd be no work getting done. Hell, you can think of a few men who would like to see this as well.

There he is. The lean muscles in his back flexing and stretching as he performs the requisite weight repetitions. And you can see the muscles in his back for the simple reason that he is wearing no shirt. Exposing his form and glistening skin from the waist up to your gaze.

"There is no one in there, Lieutenant."

His voice jars you out of you appreciative haze. "Sorry, Sir?"

He sighs and turns to face you, and your breath catches in your lungs at the sight of his bare chest and stomach, random beads of perspiration running across his smooth skin. His face changes slightly, an expression you don't readily recognize. And then his stern visage returns.

"There is no one in the locker room. You may go in."

"Oh," you say, conscious of your lungs heaving just a little too much. "Thank you, Sir," you say quickly, breezing past him to enter the men's room.

~*~

One would think that cleaning up after a bunch of piggish men would kill a sex drive. But you can't stop thinking of his half-naked, sweat-covered body just a few feet outside that door. You work quickly, trying to get out of there as fast as possible before he wanders in and picks up your renegade, and very explicit, thoughts.

Finally finished, you gather everything together with shaky hands...and then freeze when you hear the water suddenly running in the enclosed shower room.

"Shit," you whisper, trying to figure out how you are going to get out of there. You have to pass by the doorway to the shower room in order to use either of the exits. You think for just a moment and then decide it's better to be seen as a blur going by than as some lady in wait once he comes out of the shower.

Not that anyone would mistake you for a lady.

You hold your breath as you walk, keep your eyes straight ahead, your body tensing up as you pass the doorway.

And then something makes you stop. For the life of you, you can't imagine what the hell you are doing as you stand there not moving while staring at the exit only a few feet away. The impulse to stop just suddenly struck you.

And then your heart begins to pound in your chest as you realize the ramifications of this ridiculous impulse.

But then all thought comes to a dead halt as you catch a glimpse of something in your peripheral vision. Instinctively, your eyes shift over. You wobble on your feet when your brain registers what it is you are seeing.

The General stands completely nude under the shower stream, head leaned back, eyes closed, mouth slightly opened, chest rising and falling with each breath, water planing down his chest and stomach, arm moving slowly, guiding his hand as it strokes up and down the length of his very aroused penis.

You feel your vision tunnel, your brain telling you to get the hell out of there, while something deeper inside you keeps you locked in place. And then his hips begin to move forward, his buttocks flexing and rolling forward, his thigh muscles visibly tensing. And then a breathy moan, his teeth snagging his bottom lip for a moment before his head leans back a little farther, a slightly louder moan that infers his oblivious pleasure.

"Oh my God," you whisper with a staggered breath, your breathing becoming significantly labored. Your eyes focus on his hand, the strength of the fingers wrapped around his erection, studying how he strokes himself, your insides quivering with each pull of his hand up his length, each low moan that echoes off the walls.

Your body begins to react with greater desire, your hips inadvertently swaying in time with the strokes of his hand.

And then suddenly he pulls his hand away, and you gasp at the full vision of his engorged cock jutting out from his lean, muscular body. Both hands rise to brush back his wet hair.

Then his head turns.

And he looks at you.

This is a man of control, of duty, of protocol. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine the primal vision of him that you see now. Your instinct is to run, but your feet refuse to move. And then you feel something pull you forward. You fight the impulse to walk toward him, knowing that it is your own desire screaming out of control, and that you are most likely headed for a very unpleasant court martial, if not a complete discharge.

And despite the trouble you are in, you can't take your eyes off of his erection as it bobs slightly as his feet shift underneath him.

And there it is again. That tug at your insides, beckoning you forward. Without thinking, you drop your supplies and begin to move, taking a few steps toward him as he continues to stare at you. Then you gasp loudly as the showers on your side of the wall turn on, drenching your uniform. A whimper catches in your throat as his fingers wrap around his erection again while his eyes continue to bore into you.

"Take you clothes off," he says, his voice deep and full of intention that you have never heard before.

Your hands quickly go to work, beginning to undress you before your mind has a chance to catch up. And once it does, all it can comprehend is that he is watching you through heavily lidded eyes, low growls rumbling in his lungs as you bare more skin to him.

Finally, you cast the last of your clothing aside, tossing it out of the range of the water. The hot water showering over you skin is a sensual experience all on its own. Combined with his heated gaze, his hand earnestly pleasuring himself, your body trembles with sensory overload. You lean into the water, wetting back your hair and closing your eyes for a moment. When you open them, you moan softly as you see him slowly stalk toward you.

You find yourself unable to look into his eyes as he stops mere inches from you, the reality of what's happening striking you hard as you feel his palpable energy, your mouth falling open a little wider as your eyes hungrily examine his body.

You moan loudly as he once again begins to stroke himself, the tip of his erection mere inches from his lower abdomen. You stare at his action for a few moments, trying to will his other hand to touch you somewhere...anywhere. You feel his heavy, staggered exhalation against your skin, and you look up at his face. His eyelashes flutter when your eyes meet his, a low groan spilling out of his lungs and his head leaning back, his face awash with pleasure.

His head lulls to the side as you stand there transfixed by the experience, for some reason unable to move and touch him as your body is longing to do.

His head rolls upright against, his eyes opening slightly. "You think me deviant," he states.

You barely shake your head. "I think you're beautiful," you gasp as you feel his fingers, accidentally or not, brush against your stomach as he pulls up on his erection.

In the next instant his other hand grabs the back of your head, pulling you forward. He kisses you to a point of total desperation, your wet lips sliding ravenously against his. Your hands grasp his wet hair as you press your body into him, his hard arousal poking against your stomach as you instinctively stretch your body upwards. His tongue sliding along yours adds to the slippery sensation of your wet bodies pressing together.

His lips pull away from yours, just barely brushing together as he speaks low in his throat. "We've been on this ship a long time."

"Yes," you sigh.

He leans down and gently suckles your earlobe. "Your body is hungry."

"Mmmmhhh...."

"Standing in the shower alone, longing for hands to caress you...lips to taste you."

Your legs tense to keep your footing solid as his hands slide up and down your back, his lips brushing down your neck.

His head then rises, his eyes turning pure green and gazing hard into your eyes. "But not knowing if one presumption, one false move, could suddenly result in the end of your military career. So choosing instead to maintain the facade, denying what you need due to a life lived under constant scrutiny."

You gasp at the slow realization that he is speaking about himself. You swallow hard and then reach down, tentatively grasping his erection in your hand, lightly running your fingers along the length, his hands tightening on your back as you do so.

"Take me," you whisper. "Please."

He moves forward, kissing you slowly and deeply. He sucks your lower lip gently. "Not yet," he whispers. His wet skin slides against yours as he bends down, his lips encircling one erect nipple, his tongue circling around it.

You moan and squeeze his hair in your hands, arching your body toward the wet heat of his mouth. He sighs against your skin as his head moves to your other breast, groaning and suckling hungrily at your flesh when you boldly moan his name. No title. No surname. Just who he is behind all the roles he is required to play.

He suddenly steps away from you, his body beginning to tremble with need.

"I want you," you practically growl, stepping forward toward him.

He licks his lips slowly. "Not yet," gasping as your teeth catch his hard nipple. He gently pushes you away.

"Why," you practically whine.

"I just...want to...watch you," he says, gasping for breath. "For now."

"But--"

"Mmmmhhh," he sighs, his suddenly hand moving intently along his erection. "We have all night," he states in a feral tone.

His words send a shudder through you.

"You...want to watch me, too," he says.

"Yes," you sigh, leaning back into the shower stream, then tilting your head forward to watch as he continues to pleasure himself, his hips rolling up, thrusting into his hand. But after several moments, the increasing tempo of his hips and his groans instigate your movement. You step forward and lower to your knees.

His eyes shift down to look at you, your head leaning back just beyond his hand's frantic motion. You watch him for a few more moments and then raise your hand, grabbing his forearm and pulling his hand away as your lips attach to the underside of his erection, suckling tender and slowly from the base to the tip.

His harsh groan fills your ears, his mouth dropping open as he watches your lips and tongue caress him, his hips popping forward as your lips surround the tip. "Aaaaahhh," he groans as you slowly suck his length into your mouth, pushing his hips forward to hurry your progress.

Your fingers clutch at his hard thighs as you swiftly take his length in and out of your mouth, sensing his wavering control and need for release. You firmly press your tongue against him, sucking him hard and fast as rapid grunts sound from him with each exhalation. And then a harsh cry rips from his throat, his entire body shuddering, his hips slamming forward as he comes, his seed beginning to spill into your mouth. You reflexively lean your head back as he hits the back of your throat, your brief retreat causing him to slip out of your mouth, your hand firmly stroking the base of his erection as his semen sprays on your chest, the warm water cascading down your skin paling in comparison to the heat of his body.

In the next moment you are flattened onto your back, the water from the showers spraying down all around and pooling underneath you as his arms hold you down to the floor. He wastes no time, your body shaking with carnal urgency as he spreads your legs, hooking one knee over his shoulder.

Your head tilts back as his tongue slips across your center, eliciting a feverish moan from you, all that aching alone in the middle of the night seeming worth the frustration as you now feel the expert caress of his tongue doing to you what your fantasies and your own touch ever could come close to.

Your hands slam down at your sides, splashing the water as it flows in random directions from each shower, the hardness of the floor mattering little to you at this point as his tongue circles around your clitoris, his lips intermittently sucking the sensitive flesh around it.

Your throat tightens around your voice as you feel his fingers slip inside of your body, pumping slowly and then searching, pressing gently against the inner muscles until you cry out, his fingers finding that electric spot inside you and rubbing slowly across it as he proceeds to pump his fingers again.

Your head rolls from side to side, your mind aware of nothing - no ship, no crew, no rank, no question of appropriate behavior - as all your awareness is simply focused on the incredible sensation of his tongue circling your clitoris and his fingers moving in and out of you, caressing the sources of your pleasure.

Your breath wheezes in your lungs as you get closer and closer, his lips beginning to suck gently again as his tongue continues to slide against you. You being to moan pleas to him, begging for more, needing to feel him bring you over the top and beyond.

And finally he does. You cry out as your body is wracked with delicious spasms, your hips grinding into the waves as his tongue and fingers move at the same tempo, his growl causing a vibration that shakes you to your core. The pleasure seems to last longer than was ever possible, your body swaying up higher and higher as you surrender to your orgasm.

Finally the waves decrease, subsiding slowly, his tongue and fingers never ceasing until your body slumps back against the floor. Your arms bend, bringing your hands to your face as your lungs heave to keep up with your racing pulse.

But he steals your breath away again, crawling up the length of your body and kissing you slowly, sweetly, and with the promise of far more in store for the night.

You feel no strain as he rises effortlessly, gently pulling you to your feet. At once all the showers shut off, and then you feel a sudden awkwardness, both at standing nude in the afterglow with your C.O. and because you're doing so in the men's room where anyone could - and maybe did - enter.

"Do you think me such a cad that I would allow that to happen?"

Your eyes shift up, a smile forming on your face as you see his amused expression, an emotion you were never privy to until now.

He smiles back. "Let's say we dry off and take this elsewhere."

"Well," you drawl, rolling your eyes, "I have some sinks to scrub now. And I'm libel to get in a heap of trouble if--"

His lips silent you for a moment. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "But the minute I sent you down here, I had to follow you. I had to.... I knew you were in here.... But my reprimand itself was not a ploy." His mouth frowns slightly as he seems to search for the appropriate apology now that you are suddenly lovers.

"Hey," you say. "Sometimes I goof. And once we step out into that hallway, you're my C.O. No hard feelings in that regard, alright?"

His face brightens as though you've just solved a terrible problem for him. "Let's get dressed," he says, leading you out of the showers.

~*~

"Well, they're really rather wet," you say, trying to feel comfortable in your drenched clothes.

"I'm sorry," he says, looking entirely too delicious fully clothed as well.

"Not a problem," you say. "I'm a tech not a janitor. My appearance will surprise no one."

He steps forward and kisses you. "I.... I don't wish to compromise you, but I would love for you to come to my quarters. It's private and.... But I don't want to ask you to do anything that.... What?" he asks as a silly grin spreads across your face.

Where in the galaxy did they find a gentleman General with a body to die for? "You go. I'll be there in a few minutes," you say, kissing him back.

He kisses your hand as he steps backward before turning away from you. You take the opportunity to admire the view as he swaggers out of the locker room. Then you grab the stupid bucket and cleaning gear and toss it in the closet, wringing out your hair one last time before stepping out into the hallway.

You aren't five paces down the hall before the wise-ass remarks begin.

"Hey, cleaning lady! Have a little trouble with the plumbing?" male idiots of all species tease.

"Nope," you say with a big shake of your head, your wet hair plastering to your uniform. "No trouble at all."