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The Future, is what you make of it	By : emeraldsyndicate Category: Star Trek > Discovery Views: 539 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek nor do I benefit financially in any way. I take no credit for these characters, I'm just playing with them, seeking a happy ending to a muse that sat upon my shoulder and murmured "what if...."

Chapter List
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Charles was looking down at her. Kneeling, submissive, at his feet. The dominant in him roared with pleasure as he fisted his hand in her hair. Those eyes, god, those enthralling eyes. How he wanted his dirty little angel to wrap those pretty lips of hers around his cock while those incredible eyes went all dark and secretive. An innocent wanton…his innocent wanton. He’d watch her lick her lips and ask her if she wanted to please him. He’d just about lose control at her sweet and sexily innocent, hesitant response of “sir, yes please, sir…”.
Those eyes shyly looking away from him resulting in him tugging on her hair and ordering her to keep her eyes on him. To look him in the eye as she sucked his cock, to lick it like the most delicious ice cream. Caressing her cheek as she licked hesitantly, uncertainly at his thick length and praising her efforts to please him. Encouraging her to reach up and cup his balls while she licked his cock. Her innocence more enticing and arousing than the most skilled courtesan.
He’d had erotic dream after erotic dream. Bending her over his desk. Tossing her skirts up around those beautifully rounded hips, caressing the sweet globes of her ass before sliding his cock, balls deep into that wonderfully wet, tight, little pussy. Listening to the sweet little moans and cries of pleasure and surrender she would make. Riding her slowly, gently, controlled and careful with his pretty little innocent till her sweet little pussy clenched around his cock, spasming again and again in response to his patient tutelage.
Other nights he’d waken to a raging hard on visualizing having her pinned on her back, both her wrists trapped in one of his hands over her head or tied to the bed with the remnants of her modest nightclothes. Ripped from her enticingly curvy body. Writhing helpless beneath him as he pounded hard, fast, brutally into her making those luscious breasts bounce. Watching her throat arch, her head thrown back in passion and listening to her screams of pleasure and submission as he wrung orgasm after orgasm from her willing, captive body.
Tonight he’d woken swearing he could still taste her sweet cream on his tongue and feel her phantom hands pulling at his hair. The memory/fantasy of her writhing against his mouth as he ate her sweet little pussy, bringing her to climax after climax, till her body was limp with pleasure.
He was a Starfleet Admiral damn it. He was supposed to be a role model. He was supposed to have control and self-discipline. He was not suppose to be lusting after her. One would think given the depraved things she was purported to have engaged in on the pleasure ship his ardour would have cooled. But hell no.
The Dom in him wanted to turn her over his knee and punish her. It had taken so much control for him not to snap that morning. He had wanted to throw her over his shoulder, take her to his quarters and “discipline” her.
But she wasn’t his. She couldn’t be, not after the incident with the Tal. Starfleet exacted a price, it didn’t matter what, or whom, he needed, craved, in his bed, against the shower wall, spread across his table like the most decadent feast, tied, blindfolded to his bed.... It required control. Service, sacrifice, compassion, and love. Not blind lust.
He’d let his weakness for her, his fantasy, as no woman could be so innocent, such a perfect fit for his every need and desire, rule is head. The perfect Starfleet commanders’ companion in public and his sweet submissive, his little innocent wanton, behind close doors. His dirty little angel. He got hard just at the thought of her.
He ran his hands roughly through his hair as he sat up in bed, a thin layer of sweat coating him, sleep eluding him yet again. He fisted his cock, rock hard, pre-cum weeping from the tip. It took so little with the erotic images of her still in his head to reach his own climax, a relief but unsatisfying. It wasn’t her soft hand wrapped around him.
It wasn’t the head on this shoulders that had been in charge of the decisions that day he’d admitted to himself reluctantly, and Starfleet had suffered.
The Tal were very family orientated and the idea their guest had ditched in favour of some very very adult activities had not gone down well. Family was of such paramount importance that it was almost unheard of for there to be only 2 in a union. It was in many ways considered cruel as a mate and children would be left alone, much like his world. It was a rough life for the colonists and a couple simply didn’t survive.
He'd overreacted. He knew it. In one way he was punishing her for his weakness. In another he was punishing her for failing to live up to his impossible expectations. He didn’t know how to find the middle ground where she was concerned. She wasn’t Starfleet. She’d screwed up… and left and right and anything that moved apparently. And, yah, there was a part of him that resented anyone else had gotten a taste of her. Resented she just wasn’t the little angel he’d wanted her to be. That he had built her up to be in his head, since he’d seen her with the lieutenant’s infant, and had a fleeting though of what she’d look like, her belly rounded with his child. But that was a true fantasy.
Starfleet was a hard life, it exacted a price. A commander couldn’t have a weak link in their command, including a weak link that was a significant other. A commander’s mate had to be able to lead by example, be above reproach and have the respect of those under their mate’s command. The unofficial power of such a position was one few were able to bear the burden of yet never abuse.
It wouldn’t kill her to clean a few tubes. He thought with a sigh. It was over kill yes, she’d have some sore muscles and unpleasant moments beyond a doubt but it's not like some hard work would do her any harm. Maybe it would even be good for her, because she wouldn’t survive long with that kind of selfish, self-serving attitude in this world. Soon she’d be gone on the colony ship and maybe, just maybe then he could get her out of his system. For now, for now he just had to find the sarisa or everything they’d work for with the Tal would collapse and Starfleet, the fleet, hell the federation, would not survive an all out assault by the Gorn. After the burn they were holding on by their finger tips as was. And the Gorn, apex predators, were circling.
The Admiral stood in stunned silence as he took in the scene in med lab. The little Tal ambassador, who’d been making his life hell for the past few weeks, sobbing in Chris’s arms. He found himself unable to move. All he could think at that moment was Pike’s report that he had believed she’d been framed. He had thought Pike had gone soft for her. Perhaps, even, that Pike had her staring in a few erotic dreams of his own. He’d watched the captains eyes follow her on more than one occasion, with a less than innocent interest clear in them.
Now, those eyes of hers, such intensely, rousingly innocent eyes. The ones he’d wanted staring up at him from his feet, his cock wrapped in her lithe little hand. Those eyes of hers, the ones now closed with her pretty long lashes lying, on a black and blue bruised cheek.
More than anything else though he had discounted Pike’s theory and dismissed it as implausable. Where was she then, where else could she possibly have been. To think anything else was self torture. You can’t doubt and second guess yourself in command, it’s the first rule. People died.
When you screwed up though. It was typically epic. The only way to deal with it was to own it. He had to own the fact his pretty little angel was lying so very still and silent in a bio-bed. He’d wanted her in his bed, under him, his.
Now, she wasn’t his. She never could be his now. No matter how much he wanted to storm over and pull her up into his arms. To feel her heartbeat, the reassurance of the steady rise and fall of her breast. To feel the soft sigh of her breath across the skin of his neck as he tucked her into the safe cocoon of his embrace where nothing would touch her. He’d damn well kill them for touching what was his.
In that moment all he wanted to whisk her away and baby her. Kiss every mark that marred her soft, perfect skin, stroke his hands lovingly over every inch of her, massaging, caressing and soothing each little hurt or mark. Ensuring every wound and welt was healed. Comfort her fears and chase the shadows from her eyes.
His pretty innocent, lying there like a broken doll and the Dom in him screamed in pain and outrage. She was so very still. He’d raged at her, her face had gone pale under the onslaught of his anger. She’d flinched and cringed from him, from his rage. He’d made her afraid of him when he wanted her to turn to him. To seek the strength and shelter of his arms. Instead, he had terrified her so badly she’d been afraid to even speak her innocence. Threatened with a penal colony. What the hell had he done. She’d fallen out of that damn tube. Broken, in pain, unable to draw a full breathe, alone for hours. He could have killed her….
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The Future, is what you make of it