FHere's a short piece that I originally sent to the pmeb-ef list under the title
'Unearthly Delights'. Someone suggested the much more appropriate title
used below.

DON'T STAND SO CLOSE TO ME

Ian staggered as the ship shook, using the wall to steady himself.
He shifted his grip on Susan's limp body, afraid of dropping her
if the violent shocks continued. The last thing she needed was
another bang on the head. There was another lurch, and he used
momentum to open the door to Susan's room with his shoulder and
drop her, as carefully as he could manage, onto her bed. The corner
of his mouth twitched into a smile as he saw it was unmade, despite
her grandfather's continual remonstrations on the subject of tidiness.
The moment of humour passed as a terrible shrieking noise tore
through the corridors of the ship. If the Doctor didn't free them
soon Ian didn't give much for their chances.

        Susan was still completely out of it. Ian reached down and carefully
probed the matted hair behind one ear. The cut was shallow but
had bled profusely, the copious stains on Susan's sweater making
it appear much worse than it really was. He took out his handkerchief
and wet it with saliva, cleaning sticky blood from Susan's cheek
and neck. He couldn't do much about wool though. If Susan came
to and saw the mess she was in he could easily envisage her panic.
It would probably be best to get rid of the sweater and put her
to bed. Briefly he hesitated, wondering if it might be better
to fetch Barbara, but it would only take a moment and she already
had her hands full helping the Doctor with repairs. He raised
Susan's arms above her head then took the hem of her sweater and
clumsily dragged it over her head. He glanced around for somewhere
to store it, but settled for stuffing it under a pile of other
discarded clothes on a nearby chair. Her hair had been disarranged
and now stuck out in all directions. Ian grinned on turning back
to the bed. Susan now reminded him of a Dickensian urchin, hair
stuck out in all directions. He attempted to smooth it back into
place just as the ship gave another savage lurch, throwing him
forward onto the bed. This time the effect was like a continuing
earthquake. It was futile to try and stand against the random
shaking, and he was forced to hold tightly onto the girl just
to keep them both from being flung to the floor. Ian was uncomfortably
aware that Susan's breasts were pressed against his own chest.
He did his level best to turn his thoughts to something bland
and neutral, but after a year of enforced celibacy in his travels
he was helpless to prevent his growing erection. He gave silent
thanks that Susan was insensible or she would certainly have noticed
his now rigid prick pressing against her thigh. He assured himself
that there was nothing untoward here - it was just a reflex out
of his control. He was now acutely conscious of the feel of two
firm peaks where Susan's bra pressed against his shirt. Guiltily
he remembered a few occasions in the last months where he had
admired the girl's womanly figure. She'd certainly be a smasher
in a year or two.

        'Ian!'
        He opened his eyes. Susan was staring up at him, her own eyes
wide. Belatedly he realised that the ship was now perfectly motionless.
In her expression he read accusation, fear, betrayal. Hastily
he pushed himself upright, expecting at any moment to be helped
on his way by a stinging slap.
        'Susan, please! I know what it looks like but I fell with the
shaking of the ship!'
        She had drawn up her legs and crossed her arms over her chest.
Her eyes flickered to the door, the walls and then back to his
face. 'What's going on? Where's my sweater?'
        Swiftly he dragged the item from under its pile and presented
it to her. 'Don't you remember Susan? See the blood! You hit your
head on the console when the ship was trapped in the space Sargasso
and I carried you here. Feel the side of your head - the cut!'
She raised her fingers to her scalp and winced at the contact.
She looked so distressed at the sight of blood on her fingertips
that Ian instinctively moved forward to reassure her, then hesitated
as she turned to stare at him.

        The ship swayed and Ian put out one hand to steady himself. He
saw a dawning of understanding in her eyes and then she blushed.
Susan scrambled to her feet and flung herself into his arms. 'Oh,
Ian ... I'm so sorry! It was just ... I thought ... when I woke
up and you were ... you know ...' She trailed off, her face and
neck glowing red.
        'There, there Susan. There's nothing to worry about.' He continued
to murmur reassurances and stroke her hair as she trembled against
him. 'We'll get out of this all right, you'll see.' He cleared
his throat. 'I apologise if anything felt ... improper. I'd never
do anything to ... take advantage of a pupil.' He allowed himself
a sigh of relief as she stopped shaking. He must have reassured
her. She raised her head to meet his eyes. He couldn't read the
expression in them.
        'Is that how you think of me then? As a pupil?'
        'Well ... yes. I mean, how else..?'
        Susan held his eyes for a long moment and then disengaged herself,
turning away. He had the feeling that he'd said the wrong thing,
though for the life of him he couldn't work out what. Come to
think of it, it was a feeling he often got when talking to Barbara
as well. Women! Susan was now holding up her discarded sweater.
        'It looks a lot worse than it was. Scalp wounds always bleed a
lot.'
        'I know,' said Susan quietly. She looked down. 'There's blood
on my slacks too.' She kicked off the one shoe that had survived
being carried and slipped out of them. Ian's jaw dropped at the
sight of Susan's rump in white briefs as she bent to pull the
legs of the slacks over her feet.

        He turned his back to her, swallowing heavily. His prick was swelling
again, and he ground his teeth in disgust at his own lack of self-control.
'If you're ... if you're feeling better. I'll be getting back.
To the control room, that is.' He tailed off in surprise as slim
arms wrapped around his waist from behind.
        'But what if I don't want to be left alone, Ian?'
        To his senses he heat of her body against his back seemed enough
to scorch paint.
        'I feel safer when I'm with you. You're strong. Noble. Like a
knight of King Arthur.'
        And I have the sword to prove it, thought Ian, his thoughts spiralling
off in bizarre directions as he was pulled in opposing directions
by his conscience and his glands. Subtle fingers probed his stomach
through his shirt, sending lightning flashes along his nerves.
To hell with it. He turned in her embrace. No, whispered the civilised
conscience. He cleared his throat preparatory to explaining why
this should not, could not happen. Susan sighed happily and pressed
her lips to his and the words fluttered away down a long, dark
tunnel. His own arms wrapped tight and she placed her cheek against
his chest. Raggedly, he exhaled. They stood together like this
for an age before Susan reached up to unfasten his tie. He was
fascinated by her expression as she struggled with the unfamiliar
knot - biting her lip in concentration. As she continued to struggle
he place his hands on her waist lifted her off the ground. Susan
gasped in surprise as he raised he until he could stare levelly
into her face. As his dratted tie finally came loose she raised
her gaze to his opened her mouth. To protest? He gave her no opportunity
to speak, crushing his mouth to hers with a ferocious passion
that almost shocked himself. Susan's response was a frantic thrusting
of her tongue between his opened lips. Her arms encircled his
neck and she wrapped her strong legs around his waist, taking
part of her weight on his hips. Ian was now all too conscious
of the discomfort of his trapped erection. Without breaking their
kiss he carried Susan to the bed and laid her gently down on it.
With his hands free he began unbuckling his trouser belt with
one and struggled to undo his shirt collar with the other. Susan
enthusiastically began to help, pulling his shirt free of his
trousers and fumbling with the buttons. After a few seconds she
gave up, ripping the clothing apart and sending buttons pinging
around the room with a satisfied giggle. He felt her hands explore
his bared chest, tug gently at the scattering of hairs on his
flat belly, trace the outline of his ribs.

        Ian rolled aside and kicked off his shoes, pushing his trousers
off together with his socks. He turned back to see her reaching
back to unclasp her bra. Susan held his eyes with her own as she
slowly, teasingly pushed the garment downward. He growled and
pulled her to him, harshly forcing his lips to her own lips, to
her pulsing throat, to the deep valley between her breasts and
then to each exposed nipple. As she gasped and grabbed his head
in both hands he swirled his tongue first one nubbin and then
the other. They swelled and hardened at his caresses encouraging
him to gently bite and tug at them. Susan moved her hands to his
buttocks, pulling him towards her until the friction of his swollen
member against her drove him to pull back, panting. He pulled
off his briefs, wincing with the relief of his prick finally freed
of all restraint. Susan sat up to stare, apparently fascinated
by the actual sight of something that had only been imagined until
that moment. She reached a hand forward to touch, and then hesitated,
looking up at Ian as if for permission. He smiled and took her
small hand in his, placing her fingertips gently against the smooth
skin of his shaft. Susan cautiously explored the texture and shape
of the strange gift, tracing the line of the throbbing veins,
circling the glans tenderly after Ian pulled back his foreskin.
Gaining confidence, she began stroking more firmly, circling the
shaft with her fingers and squeezing gently as she moved them
up and down. Ian threw back his head and groaned as the sensations
became stronger.
        'Slower Susan! Not too much ... ah!'
        The warning was too late. Her touch, after such a long period
of self-denial, pushed him over the edge with a rapidity that
startled him. He ejaculated more strongly that he ever had before,
the sensation almost like pain rather than pleasure. Thick ribbons
of semen sprayed from his twitching member onto Susan's torso
before she could react. She released her hold and pulled back,
but Ian's cock continued to jerk and spray as he groaned and shuddered
with the long-suppressed release.

        He couldn't tell how much time had passed before he was finally
able to focus. He opened his eyes to see Susan cleaning herself
with the already stained sweater. He felt indescribably guilty.
When she looked up he was unable to meet her eyes, and turned
away to gather up his clothes. He was babbling some sort of nonsense
about getting back to help with repairs as he struggled back into
them, letting activity take away the need for thought. Susan said
nothing, but he could feel her eyes on him as he moved around
the room. He shouldn't have let things go this far. It was wrong
of him to take advantage. It was wrong of him to have had such
thoughts in the first place. He left without a backwards glance.
It would be easier for them both that way. In the ship's corridors
he took a moment to lean against the wall and steady his breathing.
He ran a shaky hand through his hair. Hopefully this could all
be forgotten and life could continue as it had for these past
months. Yes, he thought with relief. that would be the best thing
for everyone.
-- 
Rutan