Paint the Ship Redd (part 2)

Posted on Monday July 14, 2025 @ 10:49am by Captain Luna Janeway & Ensign Taryn Wells & Commander Lucas Redd

1,708 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: The first Steps to the Unknown
Location: Intell Office
Timeline: Current

Lucas was eating Luna out as she laid spread eagle on the desk. Lucas removed his work trousers and boxers and began to fuck Luna hard and fast. Lucas was now standing there pounding Luna's pussy. "I love you Luna Janeway," he said.

Luna’s heart pounded in sync with Lucas’s relentless rhythm, the cool surface of the desk beneath her a stark contrast to the fire igniting between them. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, anchoring herself as waves of sensation crashed over her. The Intell Office, usually a sterile hub of strategy and secrets, now pulsed with their shared desire, every stolen moment a rebellion against the chain of command.

“Lucas,” she breathed, her voice thick with need, her lips grazing his jaw as she pulled him impossibly closer. “I love you—damn it, I love you so much it scares me.” Her legs tightened around him, urging him deeper, her body speaking what words couldn’t. The risk of discovery only fueled her, the thrill of their secret amplifying every touch.
Her eyes burned into his, fierce and unguarded. “You’re mine, Lucas Redd,” she whispered, her voice a sultry challenge as she nipped at his lower lip. “But if someone walks through that door, you’d better have a plan to keep this between us—or I’ll make you regret it.” A wicked smile curved her lips, daring him to match her intensity.

Just then, the computer's orders were overridden and in walked Ensign Wells. Lucas stood there stark naked with Luna naked as well. "Ensign what is the reason you barged in here without any notice?"


The Intelligence Office’s sterile air pressed against Luna Janeway’s bare skin, a stark contrast to the fire that had consumed her moments ago. She rose from the desk, her athletic frame exposed, Klingon ridges catching the cold light as she snatched Lucas’s discarded uniform jacket to shield herself. The clank of her engagement ring against the metal surface rang out—a sharp, resonant note that pierced the silence, a tangible echo of the vows they’d nearly sealed. Her polished combat boots lay abandoned nearby, symbols of her command now stripped away, yet her light brown eyes burned with a warrior’s resolve, flickering between Lucas—still naked and dazed—and Ensign Wells, who stood frozen by the sealed door.

Her heart thudded, a chaotic rhythm born of passion interrupted and duty reasserted. The temporal anomaly, a threat seven light-years out, loomed in her mind, its urgency a cold splash against the heat of her skin. She felt the weight of her nakedness, vulnerable yet defiant, her engagement ring clanking again as she adjusted the jacket, its sound a lifeline to the love she refused to lose. Lucas, my love, she thought, we were so close—now this rift threatens to tear us apart again.

Stepping toward Wells, her voice emerged as a growl, Worf’s honor threading through Troi’s warmth. “Ensign, your timing’s a disruptor to my soul, but I’ll deal with your breach later. Seal those doors and pull every sensor log on that anomaly—now! I want its energy signature, its trajectory, everything Starfleet’s missed. Five minutes, or you’ll scrub conduits with your teeth!” The words were a command, but her mind raced—years of loss, of believing Lucas dead, flashed before her. The ring clanked as she gestured sharply, a Klingon’s fury masking her trembling hands.
She turned to Lucas, her gaze softening, the clank of her ring sounding once more as she reached for him. Her fingers brushed his bare shoulder, a Riker-Troi touch that grounded her. “Lucas, my heart,” she murmured, her voice a husky Paris-Torres whisper, “that rift stole our moment, but we’ll take it back. Get dressed—we’re commanders first. Stand with me.” His eyes met hers, confusion giving way to recognition, and she felt a surge of hope, the ring’s clank a quiet vow as she bent to retrieve her uniform. Slipping into it with practiced precision, the fabric hugged her form.

Tapping her combadge, she channeled Kirk’s unyielding spirit. =/= “Janeway to Engineering—prepare a containment field protocol. Temporal rift inbound. Stand by.” =/= The words steadied her, but her thoughts lingered on their twin daughters—K’Ehleyr and Elara—visions born of the rift’s chaos or memory, she couldn’t tell. The clank of her ring punctuated her final step toward the console, where she faced Wells again, a Jadzia-like smirk breaking through. “Move, Ensign! The Intrepid—and our future—hangs by a thread. Don’t test my patience.”
Inside, Luna’s mind whirled. The rift could unravel their reality, steal the life they’d fought to rebuild. But with Lucas beside her, and the ring’s clank as her anchor, she’d face it—naked soul and all.

Ensign Wells stood rigid by the sealed door, her uniform crisp but her hands trembling as the clank of Captain Janeway’s engagement ring lingered in the air. The harsh glow of the Intell Office consoles cast shadows across her face, highlighting the flush of embarrassment that still colored her cheeks. Luna’s sharp reprimand echoed in her ears, but the urgency of the temporal anomaly steadied her resolve. She nodded quickly, her voice wavering at first before firming into a cadet’s discipline.

“Aye, Captain!” Wells’s looks over as she enters operations through the panel consoles.

Luna looks right back at Lucas still covering herself with his jacket over the sudden stepped on her top of her pocket watch “ oh my gosh, my watch she opens the lid of the watch, revealing a photo of her twin daughters Lucas here’s your twin daughters.

"I know everything now Luna," said Lucas, "You dont have to worry now."

Lucas hurriedly got dressed and walked over to Ensign Wells. "Let's go to stellar cartography." he said.

Luna clutched Lucas’s jacket, its frayed edges slipping over her bare skin, her Klingon ridges stark under the Intell Office’s flickering lights. The pocket watch blazed with a holo of K’Ehleyr and Elara—her four-year-old twins, their tiny hands smearing holo-paint across nebulae in Deck 4’s preschool, their laughter a fragile thread in the chaos. Her engagement ring clanked against the watch, a defiant pulse against the temporal rift’s looming shadow. She whirled on Ensign Wells, her light brown eyes blazing with a Klingon’s fury and a mother’s dread. “Ensign, my girls are in that nursery, singing Klingon war chants and dreaming of stars! This rift could rip them from me—from us! Tell the crew: K’Ehleyr and Elara are fighting for their future in our classrooms. Get those scans to stellar cartography—now!”

Her hands shook as she yanked on her uniform, the jacket falling to the floor like shed vulnerability. The consoles pulsed red, warning of the rift’s chaos. A comm crackled: =/= “T’Vok to Captain! Nursery shields are holding—barely. K’Ehleyr and Elara are safe, weaving Andorian star myths with holo-threads. But the rift’s distortions are creeping closer.” =/= Luna’s heart lurched, picturing her twins’ fearless giggles. “Miral, you’re their shield,” she growled, voice thick. “Keep my girls dreaming.”

She slammed her combadge, her voice thundering ship-wide, a fusion of Kirk’s wrath and Troi’s soul. =/= “All hands, this is Janeway! Our children—my daughters, K’Ehleyr and Elara—are in Deck 4’s preschool, painting galaxies, learning our stars. This rift could erase them, our hope, our home! Sciences, tear that anomaly apart; security, lock down the nursery; engineering, make those shields unbreakable! We fight for our kids, our Intrepid—now! Janeway out!” =/=
The console’s feed flared—K’Ehleyr roaring a Klingon rhyme, Elara sketching a supernova’s fire. Luna’s ring clanked as she gripped the watch, whispering, “I’ll burn through time to save you.” With a warrior’s stride, she stormed toward stellar cartography, her boots pounding like war drums, her soul alight with a vow to save her daughters and her ship.

"Luna," said Lucas as he started to leave for stellar cartography, "they will be fine." He along with Wells left to get to stellar Cartography

The holographic dome blazed with the temporal rift’s chaotic swirls, its tachyon pulses flashing every 3.7 seconds on the 3D starfield. Luna Janeway stood at the central console, her uniform now crisp, her engagement ring glinting as she gripped her pocket watch, the holo of K’Ehleyr and Elara flickering inside. Lucas Redd and Ensign Wells flanked her, their faces lit by the console’s red alerts. The rift’s gravitational shear was at 22% above nominal, straining the Intrepid’s shields at 1.4 terawatts.
“Ensign Wells,” Luna commanded, her voice a blend of Klingon steel and Troi’s empathy, “feed the rift’s tachyon signature into the deflector array. Modulate it to disrupt the anomaly’s temporal field.” Wells’s fingers flew across the touchscreen, her earlier embarrassment buried under focus. “Signature locked, Captain! Deflector pulse ready in ten seconds.”
Lucas met Luna’s gaze, his eyes steady with love and resolve. “Luna, our girls are safe—T’Vok’s got the nursery locked down. Let’s end this rift and go home to them.” His hand brushed hers, a silent vow, the clank of her ring echoing softly.
Luna nodded, her heart swelling with the image of K’Ehleyr’s war chants and Elara’s supernova sketches. “Do it, Wells,” she ordered. The console hummed as the deflector fired a modulated pulse, the holographic rift shuddering, then collapsing into a fading shimmer. The alerts silenced; the Intrepid stabilized.
=/= “T’Vok to Janeway! Nursery secure. K’Ehleyr and Elara are asking for you—something about a holo-paint starship.” =/= Luna’s laugh was fierce, relieved. “Tell my girls we’re coming, T’Vok.”
She turned to Lucas, her fingers lacing with his, the ring’s clank a promise. “We beat the rift, Lucas. Now let’s keep our family—and this ship—whole.” They strode out, Wells trailing, the Intrepid’s halls alive with the crew’s cheers, K’Ehleyr and Elara’s laughter echoing in their hearts.

The End of scene.

 

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