Yila was counting the minutes until her shift in the medbay ended in hot anticipation. She was a startling sight inside her containment suit; one look through the window of her helmet would be enough to tell she was suffering from a particularly vicious cold. To make matters worse, her restriction to the inside of the suit meant she couldn’t even clean up her own nose, and it had been clearly running unrestricted down her face for some time.
Her infection would’ve normally been a surprise, here on a starcruiser with a clearly functioning medbay in the most technologically advanced period of human history to date. In fact, Yila herself was an accomplished physician and could’ve treated herself for the virus with ease. But, noticing her blue skin and the row of small ridges just beneath her jet-black hair, anyone familiar with the federation’s medical practices would realize that she was an Acrturian, and therefore purposefully remaining sick.
Through the manipulation of morphogenetic fields, Yila’s species has the ability to engage in pseudo-telepathic communication between herself and other living organisms, even non-sapient ones. Being such a useful boon on spacefaring journeys where a crew can expect to encounter lifeforms of all kinds that they may have no clear way of communicating with, Arcturians are a frequent sight on federation starships.
But there is one complication; Acrturians cannot interpret the thoughts, feelings or sensations of organisms they are totally unfamiliar with. A workaround to this was discovered in the form of using a mediating organism, until such a time as the familiarity could be achieved. After some research into the statistically least risky contagious illness, it became established policy for Acrturian science officers to voluntarily maintain an infection so they could be on standby not only for communicating with new intelligent lifeforms but also for diagnostic purposes on crewmembers in case of emergency, as they could even achieve low-level communication with alien illnesses.
Normally, volunteer infection is only done in shifts during the same timeframe as when encounters with new planetary or spacefaring bodies are anticipated. However, Yila had medically prolonged her infection for nearly 2 weeks, the maximum time permitted before recovery was policy mandated. This was because she had come to enjoy it. The cold virus, when rampaging through a host system, experiences something that morphogenetic empathy translates as, essentially, ecstasy. And thanks to the aid of her girlfriend, yeoman 3rd class Rebecca Wong, she had been doubly reveling in it.
Glancing at the time and frowning at how much longer remained for her standby call in medbay, Yila reflected on the joy of yesterday, the 2nd day in a row Rebecca had called out sick after having caught Yila’s cold. Rebecca was of course not restricted from getting it cured by an professional obligation or personal satisfaction, and she had done so after a night of indulging Yila several times in the past. But now she was granting Yila’s request to hang onto it for a while, let it develop, let her soak in the pleasure of not just one but two “healthy” colonies of germs.
She thought about their first night together, when Rebecca had started showing symptoms and, in a hoarse and husky voice, had seductively invited Yila to make them worse. Rebecca held Yila in a strikingly lustful gaze, despite (or because of, depending on perspective) the fatigue already showing in her eyes and a thin trail of snot hanging down her little round, slightly upturned nose from after she’d sneezed just moments before. Not her usual, girly, polite, partially stifled “Hh’NGTX-cheww~” kind of sneeze she would do around mixed company, but the uncovered, blasting “HAAKTCHEEW!” kind of sneeze that she only did around Yila.
The Arcturian had tackled lover into bed with an animalistic ferocity. Her own nose, which was broad and flat with an almost snoutlike quality, was dripping in two thick streams, and they kissed through a curtain of snot that Yila refused to fully break off even as a trio of sneezes overtook her. Instead, she released three fierce “Mmpht’SHUUH”s directly down her girlfriend’s sore throat before finally pulling away as Rebecca gasped for air through a series of coughs and reverse-snorts. Meanwhile Yila reeled her head back with a satisfied moan. After those sneezes she was streaming wet, both on top and bottom, and Rebecca let out an excited sigh as she felt that wetness spread over her.
As Yila began caressing Rebecca with her entire body, she reached out to pin her girlfriend’s hands up above her head and stretched to position her own generously sized breasts in front of the yeoman’s face. This wasn’t really a position of proper restraint; the medical officer was slender to an almost waifish degree, and the yeoman maintained athletic training actually a bit above what was regulation for crewmembers on call for away missions. Rather, it was a physical reminder for Rebecca to forgo ordinary etiquette in preventing or flinching away from the contagion which Yila was delighted in both giving and receiving. Every time Rebecca would turn from force of habit to redirect one of her little coughs or boisterous wet sneezes away, Yila would greedily nuzzle her own face into her lover’s or thrust her breasts towards her to catch the spray.
And each time Rebecca saw Yila’s wide, horribly chapped and red nostrils flaring even wider in building a sneeze, Yila would gently squeeze her hands or wrists to stave off her instinct to cover herself.
Throughout the entire time she was sick, Rebecca adhered to a request from Yila to blow and wipe her nose only with her hands if at all. The sight of her well-worn nose now overflowing beneath eyelids fluttering in preparation for a sneeze excited Yila into a frenzy. Yila mushed her own ragged nose down against the yeoman’s, kissing her hungrily even as she swiped their snot back and forth across each other’s cheeks and lips. She finally released her grip on Rebecca’s hands and traced them down scattered black bangs to lovingly hold her love’s flush, snot-strewn face.
“Haah…Hah…AH!”
Seeing a powerful sneeze starting to build, Yila exhaled sharply in anticipation and traced her fingers lower down her chest, then lower, reaching them in to take hold of Rebecca just as she tightened to take hold of her back.
“HAAAHK’SHEEEUW!”
And as if in sympathy to her memory, at that moment Yila sneezed herself out of her recollection back to the present.
“HEEURGSHUUH!!”
As wetness dripped down both her nose and her thighs, she glanced at the time. She’d been lost in the memory for long enough that only a few minutes remained, easily within reason of her leaving her post early. Without any acknowledgment to the other staff, she left at just short of a sprint, struggling slightly for air between her completely clogged nose and prickly pained throat. When she reached the door to Rebecca’s cabin she didn’t even bother trying to catch her breath before opening the door. She was greeted by the sight of its occupant lying in her bed with the covers somewhat haphazardly over her, completely naked and shivering slightly just as she had been that morning when Rebecca had left, mucus absolutely soaking down the front of her face and bare chest.
“You gudda warb mbe ubp?” she asked, followed by a lengthy, soggy snuffle.
With a combination snuffle and squeak of pleasure, Yila literally tore her containment suit off, ripping it in several places that would have to be patched later. Rebeca blushed at Yila’s wild passion, staring with growing excitement at her naked body emerging from the suit as the door to the cabin quietly automatically slid shut behind her.
