Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. This not-for-profit piece of fan fiction is not intended to infringe on that ownership. The author's copyright applies only to the creative content and her original characters.
This story is one in a series about the relationship between James Kirk and Suzanne Brandt. The Kirk-Brandt Chronology lists all the stories, both in order of occurrence and order of creation.
My throat is sore, my insides are throbbing, and my first officer had to pound a charley horse out of my calf today, which I believe was the result of having tensed my muscles almost to the breaking point for so long.
I'm thinking of what we did yesterday afternoon in this very bed. I've thought of nothing else all day. I can still smell us on the sheets and I can hardly bear to think of changing them.
You know what you did, but do you know what you did *to me*? Do you know how shattering it was, what it felt like to be turned inside out like that?
When we first lay down on the bed, it was warm from the afternoon sun. We held each other, side by side, kissing, with none of our usual frenzy. Not at first. It was all very tender. Up until the point where it usually turns into a wrestling match. When we struggle with each other, trying to determine who's going to control this, who will be on top, who will set the pace. I love that moment.
There was none of that yesterday. You gave me no chance at all. I never even got up to the plate. You simply flipped me onto my back and lay on top of me, sixty-nine before I could even think about what *I* wanted. Now that I know you can do that, and do it that quickly, I wonder about the times in the past. Have you just been letting me win on occasion? Admit it, you love that battle as much as I do.
I could hardly breathe until you lifted yourself off me, just a little, and then your cock was right above my mouth. I licked the tip, and you said, "No. Not yet." God, Jim, you don't have to pin me to the bed with your body--you can do it with your voice.
So I lay back and waited for you to do whatever you wanted to. It was frightening, knowing I had no will at all. I wanted anything you were willing to give me, wanted to go anywhere you would take me.
You spread me so slowly, I thought I would come just from being exposed that way. And then you did nothing. Absolutely nothing.
With other men--well, you're not the only one with a past, are you? I know that sometimes a man will do that because he's hesitating, trying to decide if he *really* wants to put his mouth on me that way. And when he finally does, I always rush to climax, trying to force an orgasm before he stops, because I want to come from what a man does to me with his mouth.
It's not like that with you. You've told me over and over that you love the way I taste. But sometimes I can't help it. So at the first touch of your tongue, I bore down, pressing for a release that I was afraid wouldn't be there. And you lifted your head and said, "Relax, Suzanne. I'm not going anywhere."
Then you waited again, just holding me open, until it felt natural to be spread like that, almost not even sexual. I felt myself going all soft as the tension slipped out of my body. Then you gently tapped my clit with the tip of your finger.
"Come on, you. Stand up," you whispered. "That's it."
No one has ever spoken to my clit before, and, god, did it respond. It reached for you, stretching toward your touch, wanting to obey you.
You pressed your cock toward me, and I ran my tongue around the head. It felt so playful, so innocent, what we were doing to each other.
There's a little pucker in your skin, right under the head. I love that, I love to lick it and pull on it. And when I started sucking on that tiny wrinkle, I felt your tongue take over from your fingertip.
I ate you the way you ate me, devoting myself entirely to one sweet spot. Did the rest of your cock scream for attention the way my pussy did? Did you enjoy ignoring it because the single-minded licking was so unbearably good?
How long did we go on like that? I know at some point, your fingers were inside me. It felt good to squeeze them and push against their strength. And still feel your tongue running around my clit, nudging back the hood, and tickling me where I'm too sensitive to me touched.
I don't know when I stopped kissing the ridge and began sucking the head of your cock, but I know you enjoyed it. You made a strange, muddy sound. It was all you could do, because you never stopped eating me. I wanted to hear it again, so I sucked harder, and there it was, muffled and throaty. I wanted that and more--I wanted to take something from you, to drive you to the edge. So I took your cock into my mouth and ran my fingers along the crack of your ass.
You stopped licking me and said, "Stop it." And then--oh god--you spanked my clit. Just once, not hard, just a light slap.
I have never fainted in my life, but I thought I would then. I practically saw stars. I could *feel* the blood leaving my head and racing to the only part of me that mattered.
You lifted your cock out of my mouth and I made some sort of sound, very sharp. It might have been your name.
I struggled then and kicked, too, not because you'd hurt me, but because I wanted you to do it again. I opened my legs as wide as I could, I raised my hips off the bed, I begged for it.
And, you son of a bitch, you didn't do it.
Instead, you kissed me, very tenderly, where you'd just slapped me. The sound of your lips against my clit, suckling and soothing, went right through me, and I started coming. I felt it pouring out of me, but there was no release, just an unending rush, going higher and higher.
I took your cock into my mouth again, but I couldn't suck it, couldn't even close my lips around it. I was too far gone to do anything but feel that hot, liquid fire flowing out of me and refusing to burn itself out.
You started fucking my mouth. I felt your cock going down my throat. I heard myself making choking sounds, and I tried not to, because I didn't want you to stop for fear of hurting me.
This can't have happened the way I think it did.
You took my clit into your mouth and sucked. I could feel your teeth underneath the careful velveting of your lips. You lifted up, pulling on my clit, stretching it beyond all tolerance. At your most aggressive, you've never sucked on my tongue or nipples the way you sucked on my clit yesterday. Every muscle in my body tensed, it was almost painful and I couldn't let go of it. My response frightened me, it felt dangerous, as if I would be crippled by pleasure.
When you released my clit, you made a small sound with your lips. As if you were satisfied, well-fed. And then you sucked me again. And again.
And the whole time, you were fucking my mouth, thrusting hard against the back of my throat.
Finally, you pressed your face into me and pushed me over the edge. I screamed, and you came, right down my throat, pouring yourself into the animal sound I made. I was so high that it still felt like soaring, I didn't even know I was falling until I was halfway down.
After a few minutes, you lay down next to me, face to face, and took me in your arms. We were covered in sweat, you were still gasping for air, and I couldn't stop moaning. I thought it was over, that we would hold each other and float back to earth.
But instead, we kissed. And when I tasted my own cum and licked it off your face, when you whispered, "Kiss me, Suzanne, kiss me," when I kissed the lips that had just said my name, I thought I would never come down at all. Being there in your arms, belonging to you, knowing I'd taken and given what you wanted--my happiness filled me up until there was room for nothing else.
Eventually, I realized that your heartbeat had slowed to a normal pace and you were making soothing sounds at me. No words, just a soft crooning. And every now and then, you'd click your tongue or pet the back of my head. I don't know what any of it meant, but I don't believe I've ever experienced anything like it. It was like a lullaby in a language I didn't understand, and I didn't wake up until your communicator beeped.
It was cold and dark in the bedroom by then. You told me to stay in bed while you took a shower. Then you got dressed, and I wrapped the quilt around myself and followed you into the living room. We kissed good-bye, and you disappeared in the transporter beam.
I ache, Jim. I ache from you. I ache for you.
The bed is so empty now. It's too big for one. And yours is too narrow for two.
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