"So I see." Both brows elevated, she glanced at the hands holding lightly on to warm, soft skin, half hidden already under flowing red silk. Finally, the silent amusement manifested itself in a deep, melodious laugh and she leaned forward just a little, sending the black tresses not harnessed by strategically placed combs tumbling over her shoulders.
"Although the 'less refined' might be debatable." With a pleasant heat already stirring in her blood, the young woman's black eyes shimmered in the room's warm, copper toned light. Tantalizingly slow, she let her fingertips travel over the fabric covering his chest, stopping here and there when a change in breathing or another subtle clue indicated pleasure.
"How unfortunate that while those uniforms are certainly a delight to look at, they also are a drafty piece of tailoring."
"I might have to remind you that you said that," he said with a smirk on his face as she stated that his jealousy might not be the worst thing that he could be. He kept his hands where they were, especially when she began to train his finger down his chest. "They are aren't they?" he said as he took in a deep breath as she trailed her finger down. "I must confess that I do like your dress here. It looks exceptional on you," he said and gave her soft skin a squeeze under her dress.
"I suppose when I was thinking of more viewing I should have specified that I prefer private viewings of that kind. To help control those fits of jealous that might threaten to overtake me," he said.
"What you refer to as 'green eyed' comes easy to one who is green blooded." She tried very hard to sound serious and failed miserably "So you may expect a certain … tolerance level."
Letting out a soft breath as his grip tightened, Sakarra gave the blue eyed Marine a look that clearly spelled he was headed for a world of trouble again, accelerating fast.
Almost dreamily, her fingers moved to the hemline of his shirt. "While I am certainly gratified you find my attire appealing …" hands radiating heat like sun-soaked desert soil slid under the fabric, and Sakarra had to bite her lower lip when the sudden surge of joy and excitement echoed through the light mental link "… I believe this time it is me who owes you a drink, yes?"
Letting herself fall forward, she tenderly traced her fingertips up towards the chest moving with a breath that was coming a bit more rapidly and let her lips rest against his with the lightness of a falling feather. "Unless of course you would prefer to extend the private viewing."
"Good," he replied. "I'll remember that you are just as bad as I am if not worse in that regard then," he said as he looked down at her as she began to move her hands up his shirt he wondered if he should help her remove it. When she stopped he looked down at her and laughed softly again at her words, but was set silent again when she came down and kissed him ever so lightly and offering him to go on farther.
"Woe be it to any man who complains of having to make such a choice, even if it is as difficult as this one," he replied and stole a quick kiss away from her. "Let us have a drink first, before things... go much farther." To punctuate his words he withdrew his hands only to give her rear end the slightest of smacks as he looked up at her with the impish grin he had begun to display more and more since they had started seeing one another.
Her hands reflexively tightened their grip at the brief, intense sensation and jet black eyes rested on Brent's mischievous expression for a long second. Exhaling slowly and deliberately, she released her hold but slid down across his body with the languid motions of a Le-Matya waking from sleep to find the scent of prey on the air.
Pressing her face against his chest, Sakarra let breath as hot as winds over Sas-a-Shar penetrate the thin fabric and then gracefully jumped to her feet, extending a small hand. The point was made – do not do that again unless you intend to follow up on it immediately.
Brent inhaled deeply at her action. It took him only a moment before he figured out what it was for. Ah yes. Perhaps he should watch his bad habits, or his requests for drinks might get ignored in the future. He accepted her hand up as he brought himself up quickly to his feet. Letting out a content sigh Brent moved over to the whiskey that Sakarra had set aside for them. He did the honors himself, pouring them a modest sized glass of the fine liquid before he raised his glass in a toast. "To mischief and those who partake in it," he said.
Brief, and quite apt. Sakarra raised the glass and inclined her head, though it did little to hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Indeed."
Taking just the tiniest sip, she savored the scent and taste before settling on the charcoal colored couch amidst a billowing of fabric. It was difficult indeed to hang on to her composure, or at least some tiny measure of it when just the lightest touch was increasing the feeling of a small, marvelous electrical current traveling across her skin. Already even the light silk covering her slender frame seemed constricting again, and the young Vulcan let her head fall back, heaving a small sigh.
And still, she would not trade the feeling for anything, nor change what had put her into this situation. Choosing a companion was rarely a rational decision, but generally the Vulcan involved was at least aware of experiencing Shon-ha-lock first. Typical.
Like the dawn over desert sands, a smile appeared on Sakarra's face as she silently laughed at herself.
"Have I told you that I am quite … happy … you decided to make your position clear in terms even I cannot misunderstand?"
Brent on the other hand consumed the drink he had poured. He had a little bit to eat earlier and knew that he could handle the drink and the only thing it would give him was perhaps the taste of whiskey on his lips. Given Sakarra's reaction to the drink that she just took, Brent figured that she wouldn't mind that. He smacked his lips ever so lightly in approval. "That must be quite the friend to give you such a fantastic gift," he commented to her about the drink.
He stopped what he was about to say when he heard her say just how happy she was. Brent smiled, setting his glass down as he moved up dangerously close to her yet again. One of his hands slipped around her waist with his hand resting on the small of her back again. "I don't believe I've heard you say it exactly like that. I gathered as much though from the reaction I got when you kissed me back. I figured I would either get punched in the face or you would enjoy it."
She immediately relaxed against his touch, while at the same time the slow buildup of tension resumed, lending a warm glow to her eyes. "You were willing to risk a punch?" Sakarra could not help but give another low, melodious laugh and was rewarded by the surprisingly strong arm pulling her closer. Abandoning her glass on the table, she ran a hand through his hair.
"No, not you." She murmured, humor still vibrating in the timbre of her voice. True, there had been … instances when she had been unable to control her temper. But from the time when they had jumped away from an overloading panel in a pitch black holodeck to the tentative, gentle kiss after bathing the Captain's little ones, Sakarra had never experienced a flare of annoyance at his touch. Quite the contrary, now that she thought about it.
"I was yes. You seemed to enjoy my company quite a bit while we had been together in the past. Even when it was just me sparring against the bag and you using your bow, to when we escaped sickbay so that you could heal yourself," he said. "But I have never been the best of judges of the intuition of women. I figured I'd be even worse at judging a Vulcan's intentions or their feelings," he said. "I'm glad I was wrong."
While Brent was talking he had discovered something quite interesting on the back of Sakarra's dress. It was a small knot, and a series of loops that he assumed kept the dress close to her and made it hug her in all the right positions. While Brent was speaking his right hand went to work... Undoing the knot at first before moving the silky material around a little bit, loosening the dresses hold on her.
He seemed quite intent on making this an exercise in slow torture, but for the life of her Sakarra could not bring herself to go on the offensive and repay him with the full fury of the heat coursing through her veins and traveling up her spine. Grasping his shoulder she arched her back, moving closer towards him. An impatient sigh turned into another chuckle when her antics succeeded in letting the dark red silk slide off exquisitely rounded shoulders and the blue eyes resting on her sparkled with delight and mischief. And still he was exploring her now bare back with a near languid air until she was gritting her teeth and her hands dug into the fabric of his shirt, perilously close to simply tearing it apart.
"Brent Warren, unless you intend to remove these clothes within the next two seconds you may be sure I will, and may all the Gods of Vulcan have mercy on you."
[To be continued …]
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm
USS Charon
