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.
Captain Kirk turned in his sleep and woke abruptly as he almost fell out of bed. Sighing wearily, he looked at the bed's other occupant. Captain Brandt was slumbering contentedly in the center of the narrow bunk.
"Move over. You're taking up the whole bed."
"Umm..." She turned on her side.
"Can I *please* have some of the blanket?"
"Oh...sorry." She groggily tossed a section of the cover toward him.
He pulled her close against him as she drifted off.
Kirk drifted in the other direction, thinking that the trouble with sleeping like spoons is that unless you fall asleep immediately, you're almost sure to get--yes, there it was--a hard-on.
He listened to Suzanne's even breathing, wondering how receptive she would be to another round of lovemaking. He glanced over at the chron. 0224.
He kissed the back of her neck. No response.
He cupped her breast and teased the nipple with his fingertip. Still no response.
"Suzanne," he breathed as he kissed the top of her ear.
"Not anymore." She didn't sound too happy about it.
Deciding that subtlety expired at midnight, he pressed his erection against her back. She sighed. Exasperation or pleasure? It went by too quickly for him to tell.
"We don't have to if you don't want to," he murmured.
"Oh, good. Then I'll just go back to sleep." She scrunched her pillow and settled into it. But he'd clearly heard the teasing come-on in her voice.
"I'll just entertain myself," he whispered.
He pressed his lips against her shoulder and kissed it wetly. As his tongue traced a path from shoulder to neck, his hand began stroking her thighs and bottom. This particular tactic had always proven successful with Suzanne and, frankly, he was a little surprised at the lack of immediate progress. He frowned.
/Playing hard to get. At 0230. That's...cold./
He kept working at it, varying the interval and pressure of the kisses and caresses. After another minute, she hadn't moved but he realized she was holding her breath.
"Well, who could sleep with all that going on?"
She chuckled and turned in his arms. Putting her hands to his face, she drew him into a warm kiss that soon changed to something much hotter. He rolled on top of her and they both fell off the bed.
"Sorry. Are you all right?" He rolled away and sat up.
"Why don't you get a bigger bed?" she asked grumpily.
"It would cause too much talk." He put a hand to the small of his back and stretched.
"Who cares?" She climbed back onto the bed. "Captain Fairchild has one on the Serenity."
He stopped in mid-stretch. "How do you know?"
"He tried to lure me into it."
He stood and turned to the bed. "Suzanne."
"Sorry." She moved over and he climbed in beside her.
"What do I have to do?" he muttered as she settled her head against his shoulder. "Tie you to your own side of the bed?"
"Maybe," she said in a carefully offhand tone.
"You want me to tie you up," he stated evenly.
In response, she impishly pulled the blanket up over her head.
As the room brightened, he sat up and pulled the blanket down, revealing a puckish smile against a slight blush. He folded his hands thoughtfully as she hid under the cover once more.
"What do you suggest I do after I tie you up?"
She peeked out over the top of the blanket. "Improvise." Then she was gone again.
He ran his fingers through his hair.
"All right." He bounced out of bed and headed for the outer room.
"Jim?" She sat up and called after him. "Jim, not now! Some other time! Jim--surprise me with it!"
She got out of bed and went after him. He met her at the mesh screen, stretching the sash from her silk robe between his hands.
"The point--" He spoke firmly as he looped the sash around her wrists and tied it. "--of this type of activity is that the recipient doesn't get much say in it."
Holding the loose ends of the sash, he pulled her towards the bed and pushed her down on it. He pulled her hands up over her head.
"JT, I really don't want to do this right now."
"So fight me." He tied the final knot securing the sash to the headboard. "Oh! Too late."
He patted her stomach playfully.
"Now let's see. Improvise, improvise..."
"Suzanne. There's a tie on *my* robe as well and if I have to use it as a blindfold, I will."
She quivered and bit back a smile.
"Oh, it's like that, is it?" he chuckled. "Anything to please a lady."
He left the room again and returned with a long strip of white terrycloth.
"JT," she warned as he drew the cloth across her eyes, "I don't trust you."
"No reason you should," he replied as he tied it at the back of her head.
She heard him leave again. A moment later, the soft beeps of the replicator taunted her from the other room. Her heart pounded as her imagination ran wild.
/Tied up. With JT. And *props*./
She bit her lip and shivered in anticipation.
She remained silent, afraid that her voice would betray her rapidly building desire. Bound and blind, waiting for him had been bad enough, but now his mere presence--knowing he was next to her and not knowing what he was planning--not knowing what he had brought with him--
She rolled onto her side and strained towards him.
"Don't move," he whispered. "Not unless I say so. Now--I hate to use an expression so inappropriate to the bedroom, but--as you were."
He pressed the tip of his index finger against her belly and gently pushed her onto her back.
Kirk sat cross-legged on the bed and studied her silently for a long time.
Such a sweet body. There was no other word for it. Lovely and curvaceous but also strong and athletic. And now--seeing it drawn taut from head to toe, flushed with warm pink desire--he felt himself responding powerfully.
He shut down his arousal, reminding himself that he would have his reward. As if seeing her like this wasn't reward enough.
There was a tiny mole atop the arch of a rib just under her left breast. He loved that spot. There was just something so *right* about that small imperfection against the otherwise flawless plane of finely textured skin. Something that brought her down off her pedestal and said, yes, the fearless Captain Brandt is indeed human. He leaned over and kissed the little brown dot and she gasped sharply.
He smiled with delight, relishing her response. He had seduced and satisfied many women and it pleased his vanity that he was renowned as a "ladies' man." When it came to pleasuring a woman's body, he was an artist on a carnal canvas. And tonight he intended to execute a masterpiece on this one.
He reached up and rested the back of his fingertips lightly against her bound hands. He stayed that way for almost a minute, breathing deeply and watching her. Then slowly, barely touching, he dragged his fingernails down her arm, feeling her come alive under his touch. Along the underside of her arm, over the armpit and onto the sensitive skin along her ribs. Not the breasts, oh no, nothing so obvious. Not yet.
The smooth edges of his fingernails rode the curve of her hip and traced a lazy slalom across her thigh. Then a gentle, weightless caress over the knee, calf and ankle, and finally lifting away at the tips of her toes.
And then again, starting with her other arm.
Over and over, his hand made the journey from fingertips to toes. How long it went on, five minutes, five hours, Suzanne could not have said. She stifled the moans that rose in her throat, knowing that if he covered her mouth, she would not have the pleasure of crying out his name at the crucial moment. A tense silence swirled around her and was broken only occasionally by a soft exhalation that could not be suppressed.
Finally, a brief respite from the delicious teasing. She felt him shift on the bed and she tried to relax, to breathe evenly, to regain some measure of control. But her quivering body demanded to be touched--and touched with a firm, crushing pressure. One more second of 'not yet' would surely drive her mad.
Then his mouth was on hers, lazily brushing against her lips. She made a hungry sound and lifted her head, trying to force her tongue into his mouth. She felt his hands against her scalp, fingers twisting in her hair, pushing her back down.
Pressing her firmly against the pillow, he continued teasing her lips with the lightest, most chaste of kisses.
She twisted her body towards him, demanding an acknowledgment of her desperate wanting.
Again his voice was soft and gentle, not at all the bright voice of command, but a tone that nonetheless expected compliance.
She fell back with a sob and then, finally, his tongue traced the curve of her mouth. She opened her lips and his tongue slipped in and ran along her teeth. She thrust her tongue forward to meet him and he withdrew.
He started again and this time, she managed to lay quietly as he explored her mouth. Licking, nibbling, sucking, his tongue and lips worked unhurriedly and always...gently.
It was too much, it was not enough, and passive acceptance was becoming intolerable. She kicked her heels against the bed in frustration and he allowed it, not wanting to touch her, not ready to give her anything of himself yet...except his mouth.
Kirk couldn't remember ever kissing a woman like this before--as if there was nothing more to be done, as if his own desire didn't exist.
And with Suzanne of all people, usually so insatiable and demanding. To lead her slowly, gently, when he knew she wanted to go quickly, to be overwhelmed by his strength--could there be anything sweeter? To drive her wild while refusing to be driven himself. For once, only one of them was enslaved by passion...and she was tied to the bed.
He sat up and retrieved the slender utensil he'd placed on the nightstand. He held it up and turned it in his hand, admiring its simplicity and elegance.
He looked down at his lover, noting the stillness and tension that possessed her body. He knew her, knew her responses, and knew that, more than anything in the galaxy right now, she wanted to scream and writhe.
Poor Suzanne, he thought. She's never liked waiting. And waiting quietly? What a delicious lesson she's about to learn.
He flicked the end of the delicate instrument against the palm of his hand. Oh yes, just the thing.
Smiling happily, he reached down and lightly touched her belly with the soft sable tip of an artist's fine brush.
She jumped as if she'd been burnt.
"No need for you to know," he assured her calmly.
The brush danced over her body, darting down quickly to touch her at random intervals like a butterfly. On a knee, then a shoulder, the side of her breast, her cheek, her hip, her toes, the butterfly traveled back and forth unpredictably, leaving her tingling in its wake. It stopped briefly and traced her jaw, then fluttered away to tickle her bellybutton. It moved so quickly and lightly that sometimes she barely knew where it was before it moved on.
Now the butterfly was touching her more firmly, stopping to spiral at the inside of her elbow, then off again to beat its wings against the tip of her nose.
Finally it rested on her nipple. She arched toward it and it flew away. By now, she could picture it, flitting back and forth above her, trying to decide what to do next.
It landed in the hollow of her throat and she cried out, frightening it away. It returned almost instantly and crawled shyly down onto her breast. Jumping back and forth between her erect nipples, it spun around the tips, lighting a fire so hot she thought it would be burned if it stayed on her too long.
"Open your legs," the butterfly said.
She obeyed eagerly and she thought she heard it laugh with quiet joy.
The tiny playmate ran quickly along the inside of her thighs. Everytime she moved, it flew away, always landing somewhere new. She gasped as it tickled her between her toes and then crawled under her legs to brush the back of a knee.
At long last, it jumped up onto her groin and pirouetted happily in her pubic hair. Then it bounced lightly up and down her sex and she thrust her hips towards its touch. The soft wings brushed against her and were soon wet with her juices. She spread her legs further and it explored the rim of the entrance to her body. She was moaning loudly--she couldn't help it, surely that much response wouldn't frighten it.
The determined butterfly marched lightly down the slippery bridge to her anus and then slid joyfully back up. It skated around the slick entrance and dipped its wings in the pool that had collected at the base of her clitoris. Faster and faster, it repeated the trip several times and Suzanne panted and moaned continuously.
Finally, the ravenous teaser landed on the head of her clit and embraced its hardness in wet, tiny wings, caressing it, swirling around it.
Spinning out of control, Suzanne surged upward, fearing she'd crush the butterfly but unable to stop herself. She cried out incoherently as the edge of climax rushed toward her, she felt her feet leave the ground as she began tumbling in space, and then suddenly the butterfly was gone and she heard herself scream, "No!"
Strong arms around her, crushing her in a passionate embrace as a devouring kiss claimed her mouth. Jim, yes, Jim! She wrapped her legs around him and pulled herself up toward him, her passion hot and angry.
She broke away from his mouth and strained against her bonds as she demanded, "Now! *Please*!"
Groaning his name hoarsely, she came before he even penetrated her, the hard weight of his body the most welcome sensation of her entire life.
"Oh my god," she moaned from out of the dark aftermath. "Oh my god oh my god..."
Kirk smiled as he listened to her heart pounding under his ear. He lifted his head and kissed a still-erect nipple.
"No," she sighed, trying to turn away. It was almost too much effort to get the words out. "No more."
He lay quietly, resting his head on her breast for several minutes. When she stirred under him, he reached behind her head and untied the blindfold. Then he rolled her onto her side and cupped his body against hers, spoons once more.
"JT--" she sighed dreamily, still wallowing in contentment. "My hands."
He reached up and tugged at the silk. Then he paused as a spark of mischief flared up inside him.
Smiling, he settled against her back and slung his arm carelessly over her waist.
"Do it now," she scolded in gentle warning.
"Don't worry about it. My yeoman doesn't come by until 0800."
No longer content, she sniped, "Very funny. Now untie me."
"Suzanne. I intend to sleep the rest of the night without fighting for space or covers. Now go to sleep."
"*Be quiet.* Or I'll use your socks for a gag."
He carefully arranged the blanket so that it covered them equally. Then he kissed her on the ear and whispered, "Pleasant dreams."
In a few short minutes, he was asleep, his slow, even breaths tickling the back of her neck.
The other spoon lay awake for a very long time, wondering how Captain Fairchild had gotten that non-regulation bed onto the Serenity.
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