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After the fifth time the two of you hooked up, Lieutenant Commander Data finally thought to tell you that “normal” sex didn’t do much of anything for him.
You blinked in shock, feeling a little betrayed as he went on to explain how “his responses, though involuntary on his part, were simulated by his sexual programming, mainly for the benefit of his partner.”
You thought back to every time you had licked the “vein” in his neck (what it actually was, you weren’t sure) and listened to his soft whine. You gave him a hand job once, and the way he shuddered at your touch was so obscene, you could barely get any work done for days. Another time, you grabbed his hair when he was going down on you; and the low groan that escaped him had made you dizzy.
It all seemed very, very real— but it was human in a way he really wasn’t. If Noonien Soong were still alive, you would have made it a personal mission to track him down and kill him yourself.
“So… do you not enjoy it…?”
His expression shifted, like he hadn’t expected you to ask him something like that.
“I do not wish to stop,” he replied. “Your touch is enjoyable, and I find it rewarding to please you.”
You smiled gently. “I’m glad, but I want to please you too,” you explained, leaning closer to him. “I want to make you feel good.”
He tilted his head in that cute way he did, gazing thoughtfully into the middle distance. “My sexual programming does categorize certain erotic stimuli as ‘pleasurable’,” he mused. “However, I have no frame of reference for human sexual pleasure.” He peered at you curiously, his eyes shining in the low light of your quarters. “Could you describe it for me?”
Your face felt hot. “Um… well…”
His gaze was unrelenting. You found it hard to think.
“In general, it’s sort of like the nerves are overwhelmed, if that makes sense. Like there’s too much sensation going to one small, sensitive area, and instead of going numb, it just gets exponentially more sensitive. Like a feedback loop, in a way. And that continues until you, uh… Come, I guess.”
Data nodded thoughtfully. “And how does an orgasm feel, exactly?”
You cleared your throat, a little embarrassed by his somewhat more explicit choice of words. “Um, for me…? Imagine you’ve been building tension the whole time, and it finally breaks. There’s a rush of sensation, an impossible, inconceivable amount of intense feeling, all at once. You sort of lose control of your body for a second. It’s impossible to even think about anything else.”
Data raised his eyebrows slightly. “That description is very helpful.”
Something about that amused you, and you had to stifle a laugh. “Thanks.”
“It also does not match my own experience. However…” His eyes glowed with something that looked like mischief. “I have an idea.”
An eternity seemed to pass between that time and your next shared day off. You made your way through the unusually vacant corridor to Data’s quarters with lingerie under your sweater (he said once that you looked pretty in it, and you nearly swooned), feeling like you were floating on air.
You found the door unlocked, and wordlessly poked your head in.
You found Data sitting upright in the other room, on the bed that Starfleet had given him as a pure formality, dressed in a buttoned shirt and slacks. He smiled gently, patting the duvet next to him. You were practically shaking with excitement when you sat down.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. “And thank you for your enlightening description of human sexual pleasure.”
You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat. “No problem,” you replied.
“When you compared it to a feedback loop, it made me wonder if I may be able to achieve a similar experience from contact with my internal components.”
Understanding crept over you. You swallowed thickly.
“Routine maintenance is a very sensitive experience as-is,” he explained, “but I have yet to undergo it with my sexual programming active. With that in mind, today I would like to try activating said programming via ‘foreplay,’ then opening my chest cavity and allowing you to reach inside and touch my inner mechanisms.”
Data could definitely hear your heartbeat.
He was asking you to have your way with every part of him. He was asking you to reach your clumsy, disproportionate hands into the miracle of his body and toy with the delicate machinery that was his very life.
“Uhh.” You felt like you were going to pass out. “Wait, I thought you could just activate your sexual programming at will? Why is the foreplay part necessary?”
Data blinks in surprise. “It is not required, but I thought you would enjoy it.”
A smile slowly spread across your face. He had no idea how sweet he was.
All at once, you swung a leg over his so you were straddling his lap, took his face in your hands, and kissed him with a hunger you hadn’t felt in a long time. His tongue met yours, softly wanting; his hands (oh god they were big) settled at your waist.
You had to fight to keep from melting into his touch. He was so gentle, it was intoxicating.
You fumbled for the top button of his shirt, realizing slowly that this, too, was for your benefit— he knew you liked when he wore historical suits, that you liked taking them off of him. It was like ‘unwrapping a present,’ you told him once. You imagined that he must have measured your potential enjoyment against the relative easy access of one or two layers, and found a compromise.
You helped him shrug off the button-down, and Data slipped his cool hands under your sweater, humming softly against your lips when he felt lace and silk.
Finally, desperately, you broke the kiss. “Are you ready now, or do I need to sit on your face?”
You were (mostly) joking, but his eyes lit up with interest.
You snorted. “I’ll do that after. Just show me how to open you up, okay?”
Data deftly found a certain spot on his sternum, and slipped his fingers into a virtually-invisible seam in the bioplast, peeling away a rectangular piece of flesh to reveal his outer casing. He then pressed gently on the smooth metal; which caused something to click, and the plate came away.
Beneath the shell was a mass of tubing and cables like no machinery you’d ever laid eyes upon. Tiny lights in an array of colors blinked on and off like the stars outside the window.
“Oh. Uh, wow,” you breathed. “Okay, um. If I start to hurt you, you can just ask me to stop, okay?”
Data nodded. You’d never seen a being look more trusting than he did.
“Or if you can’t speak, you can tap me on the shoulder. Does that sound alright?”
You swore he slow-blinked at you like a cat. “Yes.”
Tentatively, you reached for what appeared to be a coolant tube, stroking it with two knuckles. His responding shiver was more like the vibration of an engine.
You glanced up at his face, and found him gazing wide-eyed back at you.
“…Good?”
He nodded. He was breathing harder already. “Your hands are soft,” he remarked quietly.
“Are you comfortable? Do you want to lay down…?”
Data wordlessly shifted to lie against the pillows, and you took your place straddling his lap once again.
You touched the same coolant tube again, tracing it with the pad of your finger, and every part of him trembled at once. You swore you heard him squeak.
“How does it feel?” Your voice was hushed, as if in prayer. You continued to stroke the tube gently.
“It triggers a series of— ghzk— tampering alerts,” he explained, his speech stilted with effort. “The alerts are then cancelled automatically because you are a trusted party. It— bzrt—! is occupying approximately ten percent of my processing p-power.”
Only ten percent, and he was stumbling over his words. And you were a trusted party.
“The thin blue cables carry sensory information,” he mentioned. Implied was the “please touch them now.”
You traced a wire with your thumb, and suddenly heard something whirring loudly in a part of his chest you couldn’t reach. You touched a different wire with your index finger, and his body jerked, curling into itself. The random twinkling of the lights in his chest had shifted to a steady pulse. Data was writhing under your touch. Every breath he took was labored and shuddering.
“How do you feel now?”
Data let out a choked, garbled noise that made you worry you had broken him.
“I-I cannot describe it.” His pupils were blown, and he was clearly struggling to form words. You were taking up a lot of his formidable mind.
“Please continue. ”
Losing your inhibition, you grabbed a bundle of sensory cables with your whole hand, stroking it as you would his cock. An entirely unfamiliar sound tore out of him— a sound like a broken motor, or an old computer system trying to boot up, or grinding metal.
Data’s hands grabbed at your waist— he was holding back, but his grip still ached. His breathing had lost any pattern whatsoever.
You tugged the bundle experimentally, finding it surprisingly slack. You reached past it with your free hand, plunging so deep into him that you couldn’t see what you were doing, and began to feel around.
You felt something squishy near the back of his pelvis, something that made him moan (at least you figured it was a moan— it sounded more like the squeal of audio interference) and twitch under you when you touched it, and slowly realized—oh fuck— that you just found his “prostate” directly.
“You’re being so good for me, oh my god,” you breathed, unsure if he was even hearing you. You stroked the small, squishy component persistently, thrusting your other hand deep into his body and contacting a thick, hot, flexing column…
His spine. Oh god. You wrapped your fingers gently around his spine. You could swear the loud buzz he let out sounded like your name.
Data’s entire body jerked once, twice, and then his every muscle pulled taut at once, an indecipherable wall of noise blaring out of his speakers. His face was scrunched up, his grip on your waist very nearly crushing— and then he went limp and silent; the lights in his chest cavity winking out all at once.
After a long, tense moment, Data blinked, then looked up at you.
“Welcome back,” you sighed, more than a little relieved that you wouldn’t have to call Geordi about this. “How was it?”
“Almost unbearable,” Data responded. “My hypothesis was correct.”
You smiled nervously. “But… Good, right?”
He nodded. “The experience was very close to what you described. I believe I have come closer to fully understanding human sexuality.”
You replaced his chest panel and put the bioplast back where it belonged, then rocked back onto your heels; wincing at the ache where he’d held on to you so tightly. Immediately, he reached forward in concern.
“Have I injured you?”
You started to reassure him, but he was already halfway across the room, going to get you a hot towel from the replicator (like he wasn’t the one cumming his brains out less than five minutes ago).
Suddenly, you noticed his bedding was covered in a fine layer of cat hair.