Shedding Responsibilities.

Part 1 – Hello.

1653 Hours, November 22, 2790.

Aboard United Nations Coalition Vessel NSC Mjolnir, in sub-space transit.

I PROBABLY shouldn't.

He was little more than half my age, innocence shining in his hazel eyes. Propped up against the toilet seat, the young man was already glistening, breath hitching in his lungs.

I stood between his inviting legs, bending over. I slid my panties low and curled them down my legs. He might have reached for me, but for the moment all he could do was stare.

I undressed the rest of my arctic blue flight suit before him. I got down on all fours before his open legs. His longing gaze admired me, from the arch of my back to the round of my hips.

Turning, I wet my mouth and crawled towards him. He tried to look away but I held his gaze, kept it. I watched the emotions play in his eyes: reluctant fear, coy doubt, and sinful lust.

He was large enough to fill my womanly grip, the soft and supple skin warm with anticipation, glistening. I was gentle with him. I could tell the young man had felt the comfort of a young woman before, but perhaps only once or twice.

He'd made the mistake of marching straight to the bridge after morning calisthenics. He saw me sitting in the Mjolnir's command seat, focused on my daily tasks as any self-respecting starship Captain should be.

"Is there another bathroom?" He'd asked. "The one in the gym is out of order."

But by then, my gaze had already caught him.

At least a head taller than any male aboard the Mjolnir, bronzed skin shining in the bridge's bright fluorescent lights, a gap between his toothy grin. As soon as I looked up, I knew I wanted him.

"Sure," I'd told him, rising from the command seat. "I'll show you the way."

I took him in the mouth and gave him the sweetest of dreams. He tasted sweet, by the way. He shuddered and moaned well enough, but fought against getting too excited and making too much noise.

Eyes tight with quivering passion, he found the courage to grab a fist full of my auburn hair when he felt the teasing rasp of my teeth. The tortured expression on his face showed he was ready, but I didn't let him.

Not yet.

I squeezed him, and he braved another glance at my eyes, not understanding. He was about to lose it. The fist in my head shook and threatened to wrench hair, but I kept him going for twelve minutes.

Even then, I had him firmly in my grip, buried in my mouth. The young man simply went slack against the toilet seat. He released in my waiting mouth, not with a bang, but a whimper.

I licked it from my lips, swirled it in my mouth and swallowed every last drop, holding his gaze the entire time. I smiled. I couldn't quite tell whether he was appalled or enthralled by what I did.

"Hello," I said. "My name is Captain Wilkes. What's your name?"