Dinner passed by peacefully. Kind words, work dates and times were exchanged. Before long though dinner was consumed and Brent had managed to put a sizable dent into the wine bottle. "Have you any more music? Perhaps something lighter? Don't get me wrong I loved the last one. But after a meal it would do to have a bit lighter music. Better for the digestion hm?"
"Hm." She gave the matter a few seconds of thought and settled for one of her favorites by Delvok, not exactly light but close enough - soothing and invigorating at the same time, a wonderful mix of tension building and ebbing only to build again. Much like T'Khut rising over the Llangon mountains, it was slow but of impressive beauty, carrying more emotion than people tended to expect from a Vulcan composer. At this low volume, it was a subtle echo of how a night on Vulcan … felt. And just like the red light of Vulcan's sister planet lights up desert sands, a smile spread across Sakarra's face.
She reached for her glass again and quirked a brow when she realized it was near empty.
"Now that you warned me, it is likely I will expect it – at least to some extent." The devilish glint in his eyes prompted the brow to climb even higher and a slender finger tapped against the wineglass.
"However, if you insist on learning just what happens when I feel the need to exact revenge …" a long look out of night black eyes offered him one last chance to sound retreat – not that she truly expected him to. "… you are well on your way to elicit a demonstration."
"I'm sure it will quite an education just what you do to exact revenge," he said with a smile on his face. Almost daring her to do it. He had to do it at least once. That way he could plan accordingly. Besides living on the cautious side never got anyone ahead. Somehow he felt that deep down it was the same way with Sakarra. If he wanted to keep on having this much fun and to grow closer to her... Slowing down and being careful was not the way to go.
"Quite, yes." She nodded solemnly, keeping her face as serene as the Voroth Sea at dawn, but there was a subtle change in the air around her, the telltale sign of a telepath stemming against a rising tide. Like static electricity, mischief and something deeper, more intense but kept in check, radiated off the young Vulcan when she got out of the chair with the smooth, languid motions of a predator roused from her nap.
Almost lazily, the shimmering fabric of the skirt was pulled up and bunched in small fists, revealing legs covered in ivory colored silk, and she pushed back Brent's chair just enough to be able to straddle his lap.
"Tell me then, Brent Warren," her face hovered only centimeters from his, and breath like desert air traveled over his lips while gentle but firm hands closed around his wrists "just how much of an education did you bargain for?"
Brent kept that same smile on his face as she deliberately came to him and straddled his lap. She was really good about keeping her face in check as it was quite difficult to read anything from her facial expression that he could recognize. He wondered if he could get his hands free without too much trouble. When Brent felt her tighten down he moved in for what he had really planned. He leaned forward and gave Sakarra a light kiss, staring into her eyes as he withdrew, having given her his answer.
"As you will."
Her enigmatic features unchanged, she retreated slowly, keeping her hold on his wrists – a careful, almost tender grip, but with the distinct promise it would be unwise to dispute her in this matter.
Considering and dismissing several options in her mind, Sakarra pulled him out of the chair and at last settled for making him walk backwards until a bulkhead stopped their progress.
Ah, yes. This would do.
Mental shields locked tightly into place to prevent any of her plans from escaping, but before she released him and turned around with excruciating slowness, he was advised clearly once more that any movement on his part would not be taken kindly.
Trapped between a wall and the woman before him, who was lowering her head slightly so he could get a good look at the slender neck and the exposed, golden toned skin all the way to the elegant curve at the small of her back, the Marine was making no objection thus far.
Good.
She completed her turn and looked up at Brent's face once more while small, warm hands started to undo the buttons of his shirt. Standing close enough that any careless move would have resulted in a touch, her motions were as leisurely and tantalizing as they were precise.
He looked down at her as she began to undo his shirt as she did his hands moved. Not to push her away or anything of that nature. He wouldn't even dream of that right now. He caught her eyes just as his fingertips began to brush lightly over her back. He smiled, her thoughts were closely guarded but his were not and she immediately began to feel just what he wanted to do... And the many different ways he had in mind to do it. 'I don't think I've ever seen you move at this rate before regarding my shirt. Normally if it gives you any grief I have to simply have it mended the following day.'
'I am aware.'
As she was fully aware of his … ideas. And the hands moving over her heated skin, confident and enticing, nearly derailed her own.
Nearly.
A friendly but insistent push pinned Brent against the wall and with a lightning fast move she nudged aside his arms, grasping his wrists again. Under her fingers she could feel a pulse leap and murmured a few satisfied words in her native dialect, her voice as deep and sensual as dark velvet. The bold hands were pressed firmly against the cold metal of the bulkhead and rising on her toes, she sought another pulse with her lips, carefully brushing against a throat and making her way down towards an exposed chest.
Sooner or later the shirt would indeed have to go, but for now this would suffice.
Focusing her senses on even the smallest response from the besieged Marine, Sakarra continued her exploration undeterred, grazing over cool human skin, humming with delight at the building tension in the body under her lips.
It was not until a lingering kiss to the taut muscles over his stomach turned into a torturously slow downward motion again that he realized the first part of her plan, and at last she smiled at the sudden rapid breathing. She would have to let his hands go again, if only briefly, and even as dark blue silk rustled and billowed about her lithe frame, one more piece of advice floated through the mindlink 'You might want to refrain from making any … forward move until told otherwise.'
'Since I have a very good idea of what you have in mind... You probably already know that I have no intention of moving.'
'Good.'
=/\= Significantly Later … =/\=
She stretched languidly under the warm covers, savoring the wonderful feeling of the arm possessively slung around her waist and the slow, steady moving of the chest her head was resting against. With the utmost care the young Vulcan disentangled herself from the Marine and the covers and then chuckled very quietly – safe to assume a full grown angry Sehlat could have stomped through here and Brent might not have stirred.
Her bare feet made no noise on the carpeted floor when she padded over to the replicator, narrowly avoiding a piece of … oh. Yes. She frowned at the shattered pieces of a chair and dimly remembered something … getting in the way. Not that she had been able to pay much attention to such minor matters at that point.
Sakarra watched as a glass of hot spiced tea materialized on the replicator's PADD in a swirl of light and caught sight of a room that looked just a little disheveled. Oh, my.
Under the covers of the truly large and comfortable bed, Brent lay sprawled in the peaceful way of a man driven beyond exhaustion and then taken just one step further, and she smiled, wrapping her hands around the soothingly hot glass. So passionate, and not at all begrudging her the … relentless approach of a single-minded, determined Vulcan. Although one could ascribe a good measure of single-mindedness to him as well, considering the floor around the desk was now littered with PADDs and this time it was her dress which would require mending.
The room was slightly more chilly than her own quarters and she finished the tea quickly, breathing a content sigh. Another flicker of light which recycled the glass was enough to let her avoid some more random pieces of debris and she slid back under the covers. Even in his sleep, Brent must have sensed her return because she found herself pulled against his tall frame again and she breathed another lingering kiss on his chest.
Yes, it was good.
=/\= To be continued ... =/\=
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm
USS Charon