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The setting for the Sheila & K'avir stories is the Star Trek Mirrorverse. Anything Star Trek-related are the intellectual property of Gene Roddenberry. All other characters, planets, star systems and content not within said scope are my own.


Discipline (1/?)


I walked into my apartment, immediately kicked off my heels, and put my briefcase on the table.  I didn’t know what I wanted to eat for dinner; perhaps take-out Chinese or something else.  I liked to think of myself as classier than Chinese take-out, but who was I kidding?  I sat on the couch and turned on the stereo, not even bothering to undress.  Chante Moore’s “Wey U” was playing and I sighed as I sat back.  I wanted to get off my feet for a few minutes and then I’d worry about what came next.  As far as what I’d do on the couch…that was easy.  The music was in my ears and I had all the time I wanted to think.  According to the Admin grapevine, there was a new contract attorney on payroll as of last week…and if the style upgrade of the receptionists, secretaries and paralegals was any indication, he had the Big Triple-S going for him:  sexy, single, and straight.  But that was from the female perspective; the gay men who worked for my firm claimed the same thing; the exception being the last...which they replaced with “squiggle.”

I haven’t met him yet.  Ty hasn’t made a bad hiring decision thus far, and if he thought that this particular contract attorney was the bee’s knees, and the rest of the partners agreed, then I wasn’t going to argue.  Rothschild, Fairfield & Littleton was one of the most respected and powerful firms on the Eastern Seaboard for many reasons, one of which was that Ty Fairfield had an eye for superior legal talent.  I’m supposed to meet him tomorrow morning, but I already know everything there is to know about this man…at least as far as work is concerned.

“Wey U” gave way to “Summer Madness,” as easily as greatness yielding to even more greatness.  Two hard knocks hit my door and I cast my eye towards it.  I stood up, smoothed my dress and took my time answering it.  Part of me already knew who it was, but you could never be 100% all the time of who would come knocking.  Ty was known to show up at my place when he was freaking out about something, even though he knew I hated it and was loathe conducting business after business hours.  I opened the door and it was not Ty.  He was there, leaning against the doorframe while holding a half-empty bottle of Heineken.  His eyes met mine and a small half-smile emerged.  I moved to let him in and closed the door.  As far as what I planned to do or to eat…well, they would have to wait.

I have an enormous custom bathtub; luxuriant baths were a regular pastime.  I had everything one would need in a bathroom.  My tub was situated right under an enormous picture window that had an incredible view of the city.  As the water ran, I lit candles and scented the water with rose petals.  Melky & Day’s “Love Jones” was playing as I looked in the mirror and put up my coily, crinkly hair with clips before moving to unzip my dress.  In moments, he was behind me, taking the zipper in his hands and slid it down slowly.  I didn’t move, but I couldn’t help but sniff.  He’d obviously had a workout not too long ago; I could smell his sweat and his face and arms shone with what was obviously recent perspiration.  His hair was still somewhat damp from his workout and I wondered if it was arm or leg day.

In case you’re wondering, his scent did not bother me in the slightest.  I actually found it appealing in a raw, vital way.  He’s a well-built man with a body like you wouldn’t believe and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the time we spent together.  I took a deep breath, inhaling him as he moved my dress off my shoulders and we both watched it pool around my legs, followed shortly by my elegant cream lace bra and panties.

Ever since the day I saw your pretty face…I guess I caught a love jones

I walked over to the tub and turned off the water.  I got in slowly and sat down, spreading my legs.  He walked over to the tub, stripping off his T-shirt before dropping his sweat pants and boxers.  He got into the tub and sat between my legs, leaning back gently against me.  I sluiced water over his shoulders and chest before grabbing the glycerin bar and working up a nice foam.  The music switched to Art of Noise’s “Love Beat.”

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” I asked, wanting to hear his voice.

“Yes,” he replied.

I ran my soapy hands over his shoulders, taking my good, sweet time.  His muscles quivered under my fingers and I used my fingernails to gently scrape his skin, something I knew he liked.  I moved my hands over and under his arms, closing my eyes.  He was heavy against me, but it was not uncomfortable.  I grabbed the glycerin bar, dunked it in the water, and began to soap his pectorals.  He moaned softly as I rolled his nipples between my fingers and scraped his sternum with my red nails.  Then I took a good long time washing his abs, which were cut and rock hard and made my nether regions hum electrically. Would this time be one of those times?  Sometimes I queried myself when we did this, even though I didn’t have to.  We could read each other like well-loved books and had been able to do it since we met over six months ago.  Sometimes it’s easy like that.

Lord, he felt so good.  My hands went up and down, down and up, taking in the tactile terrificness of his torso and I couldn’t help but moan a little.  But being the calm, cool woman that I am, I moved my hands back up to curl around his neck, making sure I got every inch of available skin. Then, when I was ready, I caressed the lobe of his right ear, giving him the signal to sit up.  He did so, giving me room to get to my knees.  I’m so glad my tub is deep; otherwise water would slosh everywhere.

I dunked the soap again and ran it over his back before splashing water on my chest.  I leaned forward and cupped my hands around his biceps and began moving up and down, washing his broad back with my breasts.  He groaned this time and I knew his eyes were closed.  My breasts are big and soft and I have the added blessing of large nipples, and let’s not kid ourselves; there ain’t a straight man alive that doesn’t love a great pair of titties…which I have.  As I moved my body, I also moved my hands up to his shoulders and massaged him while my breasts bathed his back.  A sound escaped him; something raw and raunchy and dirty.  He had an edge to him, a sharp hot sweetness that really turned me on.  Sometimes he let it loose and that equally raw and raunchy place inside of me captured and devoured it. 

The music changed to Trina Broussard’s remake of Minnie Riperton’s “Inside My Love,” which I recorded back to back because I love both versions.  I reached for shampoo that I kept just for him and squirted a dollop into my hands.  Then I rubbed my hands together, put them in his hair and began to scrub his scalp in long slow sweeps, in time to the movement of my breasts against his back.  After a few minutes, I caressed his chin and tipped his head back so that I could look into his eyes, which were bluer than a gas flame.  I could read him so well and I smiled and released his chin.  I scrubbed his scalp a little while longer and then stroked his ear again.  He adjusted again and I stood up, stepping over him.  He slid his back against the tub and looked up at me.  I felt like an Amazon looking down at him, at a man who would willingly worship at my altar if I so much as blinked a certain way.

Two strangers…not strangers…do you wanna ride…inside my love…?

This time he spread his legs and I knelt between them.  Once again, I grabbed the soap and worked up lather.  This time I began washing his incredible thighs without taking my eyes from his.  Back and forth I went, a hand on each one, using my nails to scrub gently.  His eyelids fluttered as I did this and he licked his lips.  If there was one thing that this man had, it was a pair of motherfucking lips. God made them just for him and then broke the damn mold.  I closed my eyes for a moment, wondering how they’d feel against mine.  Then I got back to business and washed his legs and feet.  He stared at me as I handled said business like a boss chick does.  I crawled back up his body, met his eyes, and boldly wrapped my hand around his dick, because it needed to be bathed too.  He closed his eyes and groaned again as I began to give him what he clearly needed.  I leaned my face close to his with my lips parted and ran my nose over his eyebrow, getting my body as close to his as I could without us touching.  I braced myself against the wall behind his head and moved my curled hand up and down, down and up, listening to his breathing become shallower and shallower.  His hands gripped the sides of my tub until his knuckles were white and he started moaning in that delicious deviant way; it is a most amazing thing to see his lips contort to emit those sounds.  I had this man in the palm of my hand and I was giddy with power as I gripped his balls and made him come all over it.  You would have paid good coin to see his lips at that moment, I assure you.

“Moments in Love” was playing when we stood up to rinse off.  The tub drained quietly and rose petals stuck to our bodies as I reached to turn on the shower.  Warm water—slightly hot—cascaded over us and I put my arms around his neck and my fingers in his hair to finish washing it.  His eyes were closed, as were mine; I didn’t need to see to wash his hair, and my forehead rested against his chin.  He was breathing deeply now, his breath was warm against my forehead, and his body hard against my soft one.  I caressed his forehead, cueing him to tilt his head back so he could rinse his hair.  While he did that, I gently scraped my fingernails down the sides of his face, enjoying the subtle roughness of his two-day growth.  I liked his facial hair when it was like this, but never any older than three days.  He damn well knew it too.

He turned around again, giving me a clear view of his marvelous, magnificent ass.  I don’t know too many vanilla bruhs walking around with a booty like his.  Briefly I wondered what it looked like in pants other than jeans or sweats, but I didn’t waste time getting my hands on it or my body up against it.  Firm and tight, cheek dimples…just an amazing ass all around.  Yet another thing God gave him before subsequently breaking the mold.  I pressed completely against him, crushing my breasts into his back and slid my arms around his chest.  I rubbed my cheek against his spine, giving absolutely no fucks about my wet hair, and his arms came around me.  He gripped my ass and this time it was I who emitted a groan.  For several moments, we were like this in our silent, sexy bathroom paradise until the moon started to show her face.  Then I turned the shower off.

Janelle Monae’s “Give ‘Em What They Love” was playing when we exited the bathroom.  I wore a red silk robe that I didn’t bother closing; what was the point?  He stared at me as he got dressed and the look in his eyes was…well, you decide.  I couldn’t help but smile at him and clench my lower lip between my teeth as I watched him put back on his sweats.  Then he turned and left, closing my door quietly behind him.  I wondered if he cared that his clothes were still dirty when he was clean.  But it didn’t matter; he wouldn’t have them on for long.  After all, he lived next door.


  1. Oooh, GUURRRRL! Two of my favorite men, plus one of the sexiest women on the planet??? This story is smokin', and no mistake !

  2. What a wait to start a story, girl....

  3. This is incredible :3


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