=/\= USS Charon, some quarters or other =/\=
The arm so tenderly wrapped around her shoulders did not interrupt her revelry, though she could feel her heartbeat grow more fierce, echoing in her ears with a slowing, deep thunder. She had no words. None at all. 'Thank you' seemed … simply not enough.
Some part of her knew what it meant that they had arrived, that there was a ship out there – either dead and silent, or still carrying a crew waiting for aid, and that there were others wanting to claim a prize.
But right here, right now, there was only this perfect moment of absolute beauty and a truly impossible, but wonderfully so, man pulling her closer again. She could feel his cool breath in her hair as a gentle kiss was placed on the silken curls, sending a shiver across her skin.
Without a word she lifted her face, deep, soulful pools gazing up at a face radiating pleasure that the surprise had succeeded and … she felt a hand cupping the back of her neck, fingers running through loosely falling hair, and this time it was she who pulled him so close her arms almost ached.
Unfortunately, that led to the logistical problem of how to get him out of the damn uniform.
Half chuckling, half cursing with feverish impatience, Sakarra did the only thing left to her – letting her head fall back to answer his kiss, she silently acknowledged defeat.
'Damn you.'
If Brent had not been preoccupied he would have been grinning from ear to hear. 'I'm really glad you like it,' he said back to her as he withdrew from the kiss and from her. There was a method to his madness though, as when he did his hands came around to the front and began to undo the ties on her robes. His eyes never left hers as they stood there in the near darkness only illuminated by the starlight filtering in through the window. 'Help me out of my uniform,' was what he said after he had undone the major knots on her robes letting them hang loose on her.
A good thing this uniform was so familiar Sakarra could have removed it in utter darkness if need be, with the ease of thought. Even as the jacket and shirt fell to the floor and warm, small hands traveled over broad shoulders and a finely muscled chest, her movements caused the heavy, dark red fabric to slide off her own body. But she did not feel any cold, even clad in no more than the light, shimmering silk of her undergarments and stockings.
Near dizzy from the dusky, masculine scent filling her senses with every deeply drawn breath, she forced herself to not simply rip the last of his clothes off him and still bit her lip when careful hands closed around her waist, pushing up the silk. Sweet torture seemed to be what he had in mind, making her entire being ache for more, and when he playfully brushed over her ears before letting the silk flutter to the floor, she made a sound that was both a threat and a plea.
That plea was like music to Brent's ears... He liked the sound of that, and as much as he wanted to continue hearing that cute little plea, Brent knew that the time was right. He helped her remove the last of his clothing before slowly lowering Sakarra down onto the blanket that he had left there when planning this event. 'Let's make the stars jealous..'
Barely aware of anything but the languid moves of the body that covered her like shelter from a storm, her answer was a small cry, quickly silenced by another deep, lingering kiss.
=/\= Yes, later. Quite a bit later. =/\=
Slow, steady breath and her body molded against another – one that seemed capable of crushing the small frame nestled against it, and still … even that first night she had been astonished to discover just how well they … fit.
Eyes the color and depth of an ocean watching her face, bathed in starlight. What could she possibly do, other than smile?
"Ta'lukh-veh" she murmured, tracing fingertips across his temples and the slightly rough, strong jawline.
Cherished one.
Such a simple endearment, so deeply felt.
"Thank you."
Brent leaned down and pressed a kiss against her neck before smiling there against her. "Sweetheart I can't even say the pleasure was all mine. I am really glad that you got to see this though," he said letting out a deep breath. "I didn't think you would after all of those little entanglements you got into," he said. He held onto her tight in the dim light of the stars but paying no heed to them, his eyes only looking at her. "I'm glad I got you out of there. I hated to see you behind that force field in the jail. And I will still honor my promise to help out any crew members of this ship that we will be hunting for soon enough."
She nodded, silently.
With the utmost care, her fingers brushed across his lips, curved in the beginning of a smile. It was another kiss, the most sensual for a touch telepath, and had she not been sated in body and mind, the most arousing as well. As it was, waves of tenderness and the warm afterglow of desire sent small trails of heat down her spine and the dark pools of her eyes, twinkling with reflected starlight, took on a deep, joyous glow.
"Yes."
It might be no more than a stolen few hours, but one could hardly imagine time better spent.
"I am glad as well. And I know you will."
Soon enough, yes. But not yet. Don't let this end…
"What will you do now that you will be confined to quarters. Or do I get to keep you occupied as much as I can," he asked Sakarra. He kept her close to him almost possessively. He sighed softly, being thoroughly exhausted from the previous few hours together. If it was his quarters he would have been already threatening to go to sleep, but here he had to keep himself awake until they left.
"I should like that," she answered with more than just a trace of mischief in her deep, almost sultry voice. "However, as you have pointed out there are some … entanglements to be resolved."
Which unfortunately meant she would have to trade the current, much more pleasant entanglement for the sake of becoming Charon's calm, determined and unshakeable helm officer again. As it was, they were already risking further trouble – what if someone decided to check on the confined Vulcan?
Not to mention Brent looked about ready to exchange the admittedly cold floor of these quarters, soft blanket notwithstanding, for the sheets of a bed. Breathing a silent sigh, the young Vulcan cast one more long glance at the dancing stars outside, etching the moment into her memory. Heated skin pressed against a steadily moving chest, familiar arms wrapped around her, and the low murmur of pleasure when she ran her hands over a beautifully sculpted back.
She exhaled sharply with the sudden sense of loss as she pulled away from him, picking up the strewn about pieces of clothing. "On that subject … it would likely be seen as inappropriate if you stayed the night." Sakarra tenderly pulled the green shirt over his tousled hair and then went hunting for her robe "But I would not object to another hour." Or more. But he very likely was threading a fine line as it was already.
Brent looked at her for a moment after she had pulled away. He considered protesting what she was saying, insisting that it was none of their business and that it would make no difference. He thought better of it and simply nodded before he got up and began to dress himself. After he put his uniform back on and straightened it out a little bit he picked up the blanket and folded it up into fourths before he turned back to Sakarra. "Shall we my dear," he asked her.
One more look at his face, framed by stars, and she nodded.
Having merely pulled the robe back over her bare skin, Sakarra held the silks in her hand and the coat was slung over her arm, she suddenly looked deeply thoughtful. It had not been difficult to read his expression this time, nor that he had decided to keep his peace.
Savant responded as promptly as ever, whisking them back to the young Vulcan's quarters. Somewhat was different about the AI's voice, and Sakarra hoped it was due to the fact that Savant was back to being herself again – if so, she was a discreet, mischievous self, expert at hiding what had to be silent fury.
Between the stars outside, the man next to her and the being sparkling within Charon and who knew how many other places, the young woman felt surrounded by unexpected marvels and responded the best way a Vulcan knew how to – closing her eyes, she breathed and reveled in the pure, untarnished joy of it.
Right.
A simple shrug was enough to let the robe slide off her shoulders again and Sakarra caught it swiftly, depositing her garments on the immaculate desk.
"You want to stay, and you do not give a damn what everyone thinks."
Her back was turned to Brent, hands resting on the desk's polished surface. She was quite aware of the picture she presented – long, bare legs; golden skin bathed a copper hue by the dim, warm lights, and a waterfall of black tresses covering her back all the way to the round hips.
She turned around, looking up at his face.
"I can guess at least part of the answer," a slanted brow rose eloquently when Sakarra noticed the most appreciative gaze resting on her well proportioned figure and stately posture "But I still need to ask- why. You risk not only being accused of unprofessional behavior by your own Marines, but the Captain's displeasure – and yes, I am fully aware she has been … displaying interest. Passing strange as it is, I can almost understand her apprehension. And I am used to scrutiny, though perhaps not the suspicion. You, I am afraid, will find both rather aggravating."
=/\= To be continued ... =/\=
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm
USS Charon
