She was not making an effort. He could tell. Most nights, she matched him caress for caress, kiss for kiss. Tonight, she made-do with a few cursory sweeps of her palms against his chest hair. Something wasn't right.

Her lack of participation did not appear to indicate that she lacked interest. Her soft moans and serpentine writhing told him that much. But she neither tore at his hair nor grabbed his lok. Something was amiss.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, after disengaging his tongue from her sweet mouth. "Do you want me to stop?"

The glare that met his question was more than answer enough. He bent to take an erect nipple between his teeth. There was usually very little real benefit in denying her; he'd learned that lesson relatively early. The fruits of compliance were, by way of contrast, many and varied.

As if on cue, a small cry announced her pleasure.

"Good?"

"Mmmm," was all he got in response. He redoubled his efforts at pleasuring her.

Fingers slid down her cool smooth skin to join his tongue and teeth in the sublime endeavor.

Within ten minutes, she rewarded him by arching against him — her body rose completely off the bed, so that only her head and toes touched the mattress — crying out his name.

As the quakes began the subside, he cradled her in his arms, pressed soft kisses to her temple. His lok, left untouched while she'd found her bliss, throbbed when she brushed against it in the midst of a languid stretch. He doubted she even noticed.

"What do you plan on doing to me next?" she asked some time later, after catching her breath.

"To you?" he queried, raising an eyebrow even though with her back to his chest she was unable to see him. "I have no intention of doing anything to you. However, there are still a great many things I would like to do with you, if you are amenable to experimentation."

She snorted in frustration and he quickly ran through a staggering list of ways in which he might have caused offense.

"Sometimes I just like it when you take charge," she explained, as if she had read his mind. "It's sexy."

"You don't always feel that way," he stubbornly pointed out. "I have heard you call it arrogance or high-handedness."

"I said 'sometimes.' This is one of those times."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I'm fairly certain that only last week you asked me to read an article about the shared joys of equality in the bedro—."

"I'll let you know when I'm in the mood for making love," she purred, the hint of exasperation in her voice keeping the words from sounding like a promise. "Right now, I just want you to fuck me."

He eyed her for a moment, considering his options. Taking in the tension coiled in her lithe form, he decided easy capitulation was in order.

"Very well," he said, and turned from the bed. He was halfway across the room before she called out to him.

"Wait!" He turned back and her awkward clamber into a sitting position made him bite back a smile. "Where do you think you're going?"

At that, he did smile. "You want me to be 'in charge,' do you not?"

She grimaced at him. "Uh.. yes. I. Do." Each word was pushed out from between clenched teeth with a sarcasm that made his shoulders shake with amusement.

"Then I am merely fulfilling your wishes." He turned away again. As he began striding toward the bathroom door again, he could hear her coming to her feet on the bed.

"I meant I want you to be 'in charge' in. The. Bed!"

.

.

The floor tiles were frigid under his bare feet. His naked skin felt the absence of warm blankets and her warmer body. A sudden shiver left him smiling to himself. He would not be cold for long.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters and concepts. (Not even Astra Boipuso!)