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.
This is my contribution to "The Small Screen," as ASCEM Round Robin. The premise: Q takes Jean-Luc Picard traveling through time and space to observe various Starfleet personnel engaging in games of the flesh.
Picard found himself in the outer room of an officer's quarters. Austere, old-fashioned, very similar to a replica he'd seen in the Starfleet museum. Q appeared at his side and gestured invitingly toward the sleeping alcove.
"I don't suppose you'd agree to reveal the identity of the people whose privacy we're about to invade."
They approached the mesh screen and peered through it.
Captain James T. Kirk was sitting in the middle of his bunk, wearing a smile and nothing else. Unless one counted the fully clothed woman who was sprawled across his lap.
"But he and Spock--I thought--" Picard sputtered.
"Captain Kirk was a man of eclectic tastes," Q explained. "One might almost say catholic."
"Jean-Luc, don't be so naive," Q scolded. "Haven't you ever heard of alternate timelines? Now pay attention. You could learn something here."
Kirk's hands moved seductively over the woman's bottom.
"Jim, I don't want--" she pleaded.
"Shhh. I'm not going to spank you," Kirk replied.
"Oh, what a shame," Q pouted. "That was the whole point." He sighed. "Well, let's move on."
"No, let's stay." Picard put his hand on Q's arm. "I'm interested in this."
Indeed he was. The audacity of the man! To bring a woman aboard his ship, evidently for the purpose of dressing her in a captain's uniform and indulging in some quasi-military fantasy--!
He saw Kirk's hands moving over her as she sighed contentedly. After a few moments of massaging her back, Kirk bent her knees up and pulled off her boots and socks. Then he pressed his mouth to the arch of her foot as his other hand caressed her buttocks through her pants. She hid her face in her folded arms and writhed voluptuously.
He turned her onto her back, her head and feet at either end of the bunk, her hips resting on his lap. He pushed her tunic up and off and watched her face as he played idly with her breasts. Eyes half closed, arms thrown carelessly over her head, mouth slightly open--the picture of wanton arousal.
He touched her cheek, and she turned her head and bit his finger.
"Just hard enough to let him know she wants him," Q whispered.
Kirk smiled wickedly and pinched her nipple.
"Just hard enough to let her know he intends to take his time."
"Q, I'm quite capable of drawing my own conclusions," Picard said irritably.
"Well, then speak up. How do you interpret this next bit?"
Picard watched as Kirk rubbed the heel of his hand between the woman's legs. She made a small whimpering sound when he stopped. He unfastened her trousers and pushed them down, only a few inches, just enough to reveal the golden-brown patch of hair.
He slid a finger into her, and she groaned loudly, an explosive sound that she'd obviously been holding back for several minutes. He pressed in further, and she attempted to curl around his hand. He pulled out, and, as she moaned in frustration, he pushed her pants down to her knees. She quickly spread her legs as wide as she could, which wasn't very far. He slipped his finger into her again as she struggled against the confinement of her trousers.
Q began humming the "Jeopardy" theme. Although Picard wasn't familiar with that particular tune, he understood that His Omnipotence was growing impatient.
"He's teasing her," Picard explained. "She can't spread her legs any further, but he's enjoying watching her try."
"Very good, Jean-Luc," Q said in a pleased voice. Then he glanced down at Picard's crotch. "And I'd say he's not the only one."
Picard felt the color rising in his face and his cock rising even higher in his lap.
The woman pressed desperately against Kirk's hand.
"I love it when you say please."
She kicked frantically, trying to work her trousers off. Finally, Kirk slid them down off her legs.
"And what about her, Jean-Luc?" Q asked. "Would you say that she's enjoying herself?"
"Oh, yes," Picard whispered, as the woman scrambled off Kirk's lap and stood at the end of the bed, her body taut with desire.
Captive no more, she ran her hands along her hips, over her breasts, and through her hair. The erotic display of self-pleasure and pride in her womanhood demanded the rapt attention of her audience. All three of them.
Picard tried to analyze why he was reacting so powerfully to the unknown female who was confidently turning the tables on his predecessor. Her entire being was imbued with fire. Her very stance said, "I know exactly what I want from you, mister, and *I* *will* *have* *it*." It was hard to believe that this was the same woman he had just heard begging for release.
"You know, Jean-Luc," Q said thoughtfully, "I'm reminded of an old French adage. I wonder if you know it. It has to do with the perfect size for a woman's breast. It should be exactly large enough--"
"To fill a champagne glass," Picard finished hoarsely.
"Yes. I'd say yon fair lady might aptly be described as vintage."
She stretched, bent over, and rested her hands on the bunk, never breaking eye contact with her lover. Kirk, obviously pleased with this turn of events, scooted to the head of the bed, and leaned back. With a taunting smile, he held out his hands, coaxing her, no, *daring* her to take him on.
"Your move, Brat," he whispered.
She chuckled and began crawling up the bed.
"Q, who is she?" Picard demanded.
"Finally getting around to wondering about that, are you? That glorious creature who is about to pounce and devour her prey is Captain Suzanne Brandt."
"No, you wouldn't have. She didn't make it into the history books. Although she was rather well known in certain circles."
Picard leaned forward breathlessly as Brandt straddled Kirk's stomach and assaulted his mouth with hers. Kirk's cock bobbed happily in response. And it wasn't alone.
"Are you saying that she was assigned to...*service* other officers?" Picard asked incredulously.
Now she was wiggling her bottom, rubbing it against Kirk's erection. He put his hands on her waist and tried to maneuver her into position.
"No, no, no. Perish the thought," Q chuckled. "Starfleet has never been that enlightened."
Brandt reached back and dug her fingernails into the back of Kirk's hands. He responded with a sharp slap to her ass.
"Oh ho, not exactly a man of his word, is he? Thank you for making us stay, Jean-Luc," Q beamed happily. "Hm. Interesting technique. She's in the dominant position and yet--"
With each resounding smack, Brandt rocked harder against Kirk. Any second now, his cock would disappear up her ass.
"Q--about Captain Brandt?" Picard prompted.
"Oh, yes. She had quite a spectacular career in Special Ops, doing the sort of thing that does *not* appear in any official record." He glanced at Picard, and noted the white knuckles clutching the screen. "Not *that* sort of thing, Jean-Luc, although I'm pleased to see the way your mind is working at last."
Suddenly Brandt rolled off Kirk and sat beside him, calmly running her hands up and down his legs. The sharp change left every male in the room gasping.
"Tonight we do this my way, JT," Brandt whispered as she tickled the inside of his thighs. "Or not at all."
"We'll just see about that," Kirk growled as he sat up and put his hands on her shoulders.
"Let's fast forward, shall we?" said Q. "I'm assuming you've seen all of Starfleet's training tapes on hand-to-hand combat."
"And she gives one helluva blowjob."
In the blink of an eye, Kirk was standing on the bed, while Brandt knelt in front of him, her face mere inches from his erect cock. They gazed into each other's eyes, breathing deeply, and gathering focus as if waiting for the starting gun.
"It would appear that, with these two, sex is a competitive sport," Q commented.
"So I gathered," Picard said, wondering how there could possibly be a loser in such a game.
"Do you know what I want?" Kirk asked, grasping her hair firmly.
"I think I can guess," she replied coolly.
Brandt moistened her lips, as Kirk smiled in anticipation. She closed in, the air between them sizzled, and, at the very last moment, she grabbed his ankles and jerked his feet out from under him. Kirk slammed down onto the bed, and she beamed triumphantly as she stretched herself along the length of his body.
"Round two to the lady," Q murmured, applauding softly.
"You--" Kirk's exclamation ended in a sharp gasp as the base of his cock was pinched between thumb and forefinger.
As her tongue whipped his chest, her soft fingertips moved up and down his erection, gradually increasing pressure but not speed. Her mouth moved along his abdomen, kissing and tickling as she closed her hand over his cock and pressed downward, pulling the tender foreskin tight. Then she nailed Kirk to the bed with the promise of pleasure as she touched the tip of her tongue to his slit.
Picard heard himself breathing in short huffs as, over and over, she teased the tiny opening. Kirk pushed himself up onto his elbows and soundlessly formed the word "yes." Picard felt his mouth do the same.
Glancing up to make sure Kirk was watching, Brandt closed her lips and covered the head of his cock. His ribcage expanded and contracted violently as she took him deeper into her mouth with each stroke. And finally, when her face was buried in his pubic hair and his cock could go no further, she slowly and purposefully pulled up, sucking hard. And with an almost nurturing touch, she nuzzled gently at the tip and let go.
Picard saw Kirk swallow hard and try to catch his breath, but she was starting again. The slow downward motion, wetting more of his cock with each stroke, and the even slower trip upward, ending with the brief suckling and sudden release. And again... And again... And...
Kirk grasped her hair in desperation.
"Stop!" he choked. "I can't--hold back!"
"Yes, you can," she said, pushing his hands away and calmly reapplying herself to her chosen task.
Kirk fell back with a pained moan, gripping the bedcovers in his fists.
"Oh, my, this is delicious," Q chortled. "Poor, poor Captain Kirk!"
Poor, poor Captain Picard, who was not only fully aroused, but was also starting to get dizzy from the constant up and down of his confused organ. How many different couplings had he witnessed? How many times had he felt an almost overwhelming urge to participate those acts? At least Kirk had a certain amount of assurance that, eventually, release would be his. Picard, on the other hand...
"Ohhhh," Picard moaned, as if it were his cock being tortured by that talented mouth.
Q gave him a sidelong glance and smiled to himself.
Brandt was working unhurriedly, fucking Kirk's cock with her mouth and teasing his balls. Then she lifted her head and said, "Mmmm. You taste good."
She moved up until they were face-to-face and forced her tongue into his mouth. After several moments of kneading his lips with intent to bruise, she broke the kiss with a wet *thwack* and asked, "Don't you think so?"
Before he could reply, she claimed his mouth again and pushed his response down his throat. Then, breaking once more, she knelt beside him and surveyed him with obvious joy.
"Oh! I almost wish Worf were here," exclaimed Q. "Who better to appreciate this stunning warrior in her moment of victory? And as for her opponent--Well! Who wouldn't want to claim that plunder?"
*Who wouldn't indeed*, Picard thought, almost staggering at the sight before him.
Broad chest glistening, hair tousled, lips swollen, eyes bright, cock high and hard. James T. Kirk, the man who had set the standard against which all other starship captains were measured, lay on his back, utterly and willingly disarmed by a rapacious Amazon.
Kirk bit his lips hungrily, and Picard almost cried out. Then he held his breath as Kirk reached for Brandt. Showing her teeth in an almost feral smile, she pushed him away.
*A lesser man might try to hide such need,* Picard thought. *But if he did--*
He exhaled carefully as he saw Brandt start rocking gently on her haunches, postponing satisfaction until her desire matched Kirk's tormented wanting.
*If he did, he would never be rewarded as she intends him to be.*
Now her breath was coming in short huffs as she rocked more quickly, pressing her thighs together. And over it all, Picard saw a palpable determination to control this to the end.
Once more, the two lovers stared into each other's eyes, again awaiting a signal that only they would recognize. After an agony of anticipation, she quivered sharply and gasped. Then she pulled herself back from that peak, met Kirk's gaze, and ran a fingertip around his throbbing crown. She held her hand up, studying the glistening coating of pre-cum. Licking her lips, she traced a tiny circle around Kirk's nipple. He gave a shuddering exhalation.
"Shhh." She pressed her moist fingertip to his lips.
She touched the tip of Kirk's penis once more, raised her hand, and extended her finger toward her mouth. All three men watched in open-mouthed fascination as her tongue crept out and licked the slickness from her fingertip. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste and texture of male desire. Then she smacked her lips--just once and very delicately--and breathed ecstatically, "God."
She moved quickly, spreading her legs as she hovered over Kirk and holding herself away so that there was no contact between them. He lifted his hips, and she pushed them back down, panting hard now and fighting a battle on two fronts.
It was a long, drawn-out cry for mercy.
"I love it when you say please."
Then, rushing shamelessly to both victory and surrender, she impaled herself on his cock, ending the torturous battle for both of them.
"Well!" Q slapped Picard on the back. "I'd say that's game, set, and match, hm? What do you think, Jean-Luc?"
"I--I don't know what to think. About any of this." Picard shook his head in bewilderment and tried to breathe normally. "Why are you showing me these things?" he demanded.
"To help you, of course. Look at them, Jean-Luc, happily humping away. Think of the pleasure each takes in being conquered by the other. Listen to their cries of joy as they yield to desire."
Q raised his voice to be heard over the passionate exclamations from the other side of the screen.
"Have you ever felt as good as they so obviously do right now?"
I'd love to hear from you! Please use my Guestbook to leave story feedback. Your guestbook entry can be public or private. You can also sign up to receive new stories by email.
If you navigated to this story from anywhere on my website, that window is probably still open right behind this one. If you navigated to this story from anywhere else, please visit Invisible Planets for more of my stories.