Hi guys! So, I have recently become obsessed with Star Trek, particularly the reboot movies, and I just couldn't stay away from this fandom anymore. Not to worry, I have not in any way abandoned my other work in progress fics, but I just couldn't ignore the Muse any longer. So here we have a basically PWP featuring James T Kirk and my OC. As always I love to know what you guys think, so when you're finished, click that lovely review button and let me know. Enjoy guys!

Warnings: Sex. Lots of explicit sex. And frequent use of various four letter words.

Disclaimer: Don't own Star Trek. Never have, never will. Not making any money off this.

"Jim, what the hell happened to you? Were you mauled?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Oh calm down, Bones, it's not that bad." Bones proceeded to poke him with some metallic and decidedly medieval looking instrument and Jim winced sharply. "Well until you did that!"

Bones continued to inspect his shirtless captain, noting the copious amount of scratch marks down his back and flanks, but the most prevalent wound was a deep bite mark on the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"Stop squirming! I have to disinfect it. Now what the hell attacked you?" Bones demanded as he began digging in his bag of tricks for something that God only knew would sting, burn, and otherwise cause various uncomfortable sensations to befall Jim.

"You're gonna love this one, Bones."

The doctor looked up and noted the cheeky light in his friend's eyes. "Something tells me I won't. Something tells me this is going to make me as uncomfortable as the one in a million times Spock agrees with me."

12 hours earlier…

Drums and a chugging guitar riff growled from speakers overhead as a hammered out solo snaked its way between the pounding of the rest of the instruments. Lyrics sung in a voice snared and torn from too much alcohol and cigarettes and not enough rest snarled so low that Jim couldn't make out what they were about, but he didn't mind. He had a class of high quality bourbon on the rocks in between his hands and he wasn't imprisoned in his Star Fleet uniform tonight. The completely spherical ice cube had barely stopped spinning, even with the alcohol flowing over it, by the time Jim had tossed it down his throat, huffing softly at the stiff, searing burn that dug its claws in and didn't let go for several breaths, but it was still smoother than the whiskey that Jim would occasionally take hits off of from Bones' flask when he wasn't on duty and when the good doctor was otherwise distracted. Jim tapped his foot along with the relentless drum beat that was humming through the floor of the bar and felt the warm burn of the alcohol spread from his stomach outward.

This was a good bar, and as Jim signaled the bar tender for another round, he stopped for a moment to appreciate why. Chief amongst the reasons was that his First Officer would never be caught dead in a place like this. Jim loved Spock like his own brother, but with that affection also came a rivalry and a knack for being able to annoy the fucking shit out of each other with barely any effort put into the task. The Enterprise was almost ready to depart on her five year mission, (or as Bones liked to call it 'the endless mission of insanity') and as the deadline approached, Spock was constantly breathing down Jim's neck with the preparations that required the Captain's attention. Finally Jim had reached his breaking point. He loved Spock, and he loved his ship, and his crew, (he had literally died for them, what else did he have to do to prove that he'd do everything in his power to make sure they were all taken care of for fuck's sake?) but he needed a night off. So as soon as he could, he had escaped Star Fleet headquarters, changed into civilian clothes, and wandered the streets of San Francisco until he came across this dive and slipped inside. There were other reasons that he liked this bar besides just the fact nobody he knew from work was here; it reminded him greatly of the bars he'd used to troll in the sticks out in Iowa- in short it reminded him nostalgically of home. The bar itself was made of wood, the lights circling the walls near the booths were ambient amber, the alcohol flowed at a relatively modest price, not like those ultra chic clubs the likes of which Sulu, Chekov, and even Scotty sometimes tried to drag him to. Those monstrosities that were caught somewhere between oil slick and the knife sharp point of a glass sculpture made Jim's skin crawl. It was just unnatural to be surrounded by that much glass, marble, and spinning neon lights that flashed so frequently Jim was certain he was going to have a seizure. No, this bar was nothing like that. The music in this dive also was much more to Jim's taste- the speakers played the ancient (downright prehistoric) rock classics that Jim had grown up with out in Iowa, blasting from his step father's car speakers whenever he went joyriding. He'd recognized almost all of the songs that had played already and he'd only been in here for maybe twenty minutes, and he couldn't stop his head from bobbing in time with the tempos, whether fast or slow.

But by far, the best thing about this bar, were the other patrons. Jim didn't often have time to people watch, normally kept far too busy with his duties as Captain to just slow down and watch the world around him, but now he had the opportunity to do so. He was sitting at the far end of the bar, which curved slightly and from his angle he had a view of the front door where people were drifting in and out. He'd seen various couples showing up, some obviously very new and in the honeymoon stages, hanging all over each other and practically about to eat each other's tongues; some a little less wet and more reserved, but still intimate as their hands and fingers lightly brushed and their eyes met in the booths. One he'd seen was clearly having a lover's spat though, judging by the woman's sneering lips and her date's exasperated sighs. She was gulping down the wine as fast as the server could bring it, and he was knocking back what Jim guessed was gin and tonic by the way the bar tender kept reaching for the gin bottle. Briefly Jim wondered what they were fighting about, and how hard it would be to cull the woman away from the gentleman. When the woman rose with her purpose to stalk away to the bathroom, Jim had just about talked himself into following her, when the door to the bar opened again he was immediately distracted. Bones sometimes teased him with the nick name 'Squirrely' at the way his attention was so easily hijacked, (Jim had warned Bones if he ever called him that in front of other members of the crew that he would need to personally be attended by the entire medical staff aboard the Enterprise just to survive the epic beat down that would take place) but in this case Jim had an excellent reason for the abduction of his attentiveness.

A gorgeous woman had just entered the bar. Jim immediately tried to categorize which part of her had completely yanked his focus sideways and even as he looked her up and down repeatedly while she made her way to the bar, he was unable to do so. There was no one single part of her that made her stunningly attractive…it was the entire package of her being. There was something almost intimidating about the way she walked, something predatory and yet incredibly calm at the same time. Her head was held high, the sculpted features on her face standing out even in the low light of the bar. Her cheekbones were pronounced, along with the shapely build of her nose, but neither was overly stated, avoiding the bird-thin, hawk-like look of runway models. Her neck curved gracefully, partially exposed by the short, gently spiked cut of her hair, the rest of which framed her face in a purposefully tussled mess that all but cried out for Jim to run his fingers through and push away from her cheeks as he swooped in for a kiss. In the half lights of the bar Kirk could see the color was somewhere between black coffee and mahogany brown, depending on where she stood under the light. Her skin had the softest touch of color to it, not enough to really be called tan, but not the stark white of ivory either. Her obsidian dress fit her perfectly, the fabric lovingly embracing every sleek, lithe curve. There was leather detailing around the waist and branching up over the chest and around her neck that already served to frustrate him in the mental fantasy he was cooking up as he undressed her. Her leather jacket pulled in at her tapered waist, even unzipped, showing off her hourglass frame and so he forgave the complications of her dress. Her lean legs, neither spindly nor overly muscled, were revealed almost in their entirety by the short hem of her dress, and accented by a pronounced heel that masqueraded as a combat boot in the front. She walked with poise and absolute confidence, yet there was the barest hint of a challenge in the curve of her jaw and the slant of her eyes, which were rimmed with both black eyeliner and dark shadow, making the ice blue color dramatically bright. Jim barely noticed when the bar tender poured his drink right in front of him, still enraptured with the young woman who sat down at the middle of the bar, offering only her profile for his appraisal now.

"Better quit starin' son. She won't take kindly to it." The bar tender's voice shook Jim from his stupor as he finished pouring him his drink.

"Who is she?" Jim asked quietly, one eye still trained on the woman, the other towards the bar tender.

The man cocked an eyebrow at Jim. "I'm not that stupid. If you want her name, go ask her yourself."

Jim's brow furrowed. "Wait, what exactly does that mean…?" he trailed off as the man walked away to take the young woman's order. Jim took a sip of his bourbon, savoring it this time, before sliding off his seat and approaching the young lady, just in time to hear her order.

"You know me by now. Whiskey, straight." She watched the bar tender pour her drink with a calculating gaze but smiled when he nudged it towards her. With a nod she thanked him and he moved further down the bar to handle other patrons while she picked up her glass and tossed it down clean and easy.

"Do you always drink like a sailor, or am I correct to assume you're an off duty member of Star Fleet on shore leave?" Jim let the words flow with honey smoothness and flashed his by now patented smirk of confidence.

She smirked right back and Jim felt a sharp tightening in his guts and a twitch in his loins. Her tongue darted out to catch a drop or two of whiskey on her lips and he was sorry it wasn't his own tongue licking her clean, the motions of her lips making it very hard to concentrate on the words coming out of her mouth.

"I think for us to be sailors that would require an ocean," she replied, tracing the rim of her glass with her fingertip. Her noticed her well manicured, and rather sharp looking pointed nails and wondered how it would feel to have them scratching down his back.

"Does the vast ocean of space we warp through on such a regular basis not qualify?" Jim rebutted, taking a sip of his bourbon.

"Are you going to answer every question with a question, or just cut to the chase and ask me my name?" The words were stinging and full of teeth but there was still that challenge to her eyes and if Jim wasn't determined before, he certainly was now.

"I can talk in circles with you all night if you like." Jim flashed another smile, this time of genuine pleasure because he seemed to be getting somewhere. "I'm James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise."

Her ice blue eyes (which were unnaturally bright, and were beginning to make Jim wonder if perhaps she might not be human, which didn't slake his ever growing lust in the slightest) smirked at him again and she shook her head. "Not tonight you're not. You're not the Captain tonight. Tonight you're just Jim Kirk, a man hiding from his responsibilities in a dive like this."

Her retort was like being snapped with a wet towel- it begged a crack back and he couldn't resist. "So you are in Star Fleet. Which begs the question what you're doing in the same dive and not at your post."

She snorted and drummed her fingers on the bar. "Who's to say I'm not on leave?" She paused for a moment and fixed him with a pointed stare that felt like a phaser shot smacking him in the chest. "If you want my name, I suggest you stop trying to give yourself airs and just be honest. I like that a lot more."

Kirk swallowed. Damn. She didn't fool around did she? He downed the rest of his drink and nodded as he worked through the burn. With the alcohol to give him confidence, he plowed straight ahead.

"I do still want your name. But even in this dive, I'm still James Tiberius Kirk, and I'm still Captain of the Enterprise." He paused for a second and flashed her a devilish smirk. "But call me Jim."

That seemed to do it. She signaled the bar tender for another round and then turned back to him, a sneaky grin on her face that made all the blood in Jim's body start to race south.

"Wren Agrios." She held out her hand and he gratefully extended his own.

The moment their skin met it was as if lightening scored his skin. Her fingers closed over his own, squeezed, and massaged his hand underneath hers. He gripped right back with the same strength and she flashed him another grin, this one full of humor and sharp white teeth.

"So, Wren, what brings you down to a place like this?" Jim asked when they finally released each other.

She shrugged lightly, her shoulder rippling smoothly beneath her jacket. "I come down here a lot. You couldn't drag me into those overpriced, décor eyesores they call clubs if that was the last place to get a drink on this or any other planet. Sides, I don't even think they serve whiskey there."

Jim nodded with fervor. "I have lost count the number of times I've tried to explain this to my comrades, but alas, neon drinks hold appeal for my apparently brainwashed crew."

She laughed a little, less teeth and more lips in the expression now, the look in her eyes softening slightly. "You're close with your crew, aren't you?"

He nodded and tipped his head to the side, deciding to keep this light rather than serious. "You could say that."

She however was not to be outmaneuvered. "You died for them, didn't you? And your saintly chief medical doctor brought you back to life."

"Is that what they're calling Bones now? A saint? I shall have to inform him he needs to age about fifty years and grow a beard." He smiled when she did, the heat of the alcohol nothing compared to the sensations flitting through him now that she looked less predatory and more intrigued. "That is in essence what happened. If you want to get technical."

Despite his bravado and lightheartedness she must have sensed that she was broaching a wound that even though it was healed, had a thick layer of still tender scar tissue on top. She nodded, mostly to herself it seemed, but didn't respond.

"So what is it you do for Star Fleet, Wren?" He loved to let her name roll off his tongue. It wasn't a common one, and somehow both did, and didn't fit, with the way she held herself physically.

"I'm a security officer," she told him. She looked over at him out of the corner of her eye. "That surprises you, doesn't it?" The way she said it wasn't really a question, and that challenge light in her eye was back.

"Well if I'm gonna be honest, yeah, a little bit. You don't really look like a security officer, which, if you want my opinion, is a good thing." He grinned a little sheepishly even as she shifted in her seat.

"Shall I give you a demonstration of my skills, Captain?" She hissed his rank and her eyes swiveled to the door of the bar. In walked in a man of at least six feet tall, burly through the shoulders and chest, a swagger of an admiral in his step. Wren slid off her seat and came right over to Jim and snaked her arm around his shoulders and tugged herself into his chest, forcing him to balance between the stool and the bar, but he easily slid his arm around her waist and hoisted her up onto his lap.

"These weren't exactly the skills I was thought you were gonna show off, but watch me not complain a split second," Jim noted as he caught a lungful of her scent. She smelt like the whiskey, like leather and cotton, like a hot and slick tumble between sheets that led them falling off the bed and to the floor, rolling around wildly while they climbed each other. He bit the side of his tongue to try and put brakes on his soon to be noticed erection and hoped like hell she didn't take offense if she did notice.

She rolled her eyes but still smirked. "Not exactly either," she purred, right into his ear, her sharp nails combing through his hair and sent shivers racing down his back and had his wheels spinning wildly to come up with an excuse when she was sure to notice him getting hard at any second…

"Got yourself a fresh piece of meat, Wren?"

Jim's eyes swiveled and focused now on the source of the cat call, the man that had just walked into the bar. Wren laughed and lazily turned towards him and grinned right back.

"Might wanna show a scrap of respect for a Star Fleet Captain," Wren shot back, her teeth all but baring.

The man rolled his eyes. "Any man who's got the desperation to go for a skank like you doesn't need to be saluted."

Anger coursed through Jim's veins like a third shot of bourbon down his already raw throat. He shifted Wren off of his lap and stood up. "Hey. I'll let that smart mouth shit about me go, just because your brain is probably the consistency of the gum sticking to the side of your shoe, but you can keep your trap shut about Wren."

Who said chivalry is dead?

The man advanced on him, definitely with the intent to fight, but before he could spit his next challenge, controlled chaos exploded in the bar. Wren lunged, caught the man on the underside of the jaw with her fist and sent his head reeling back. Almost simultaneously she struck him in the gut, forcing the man's diaphragm to fold in on itself as she delivered a brutal kick to his shin. He crumpled forward but she helped him along by grabbing the back of his head, fisting her hand into his hair, and yanking him forward, smashing the bridge of his nose into her knee. Still with her hand in his hair she twisted him over, swung her foot up, and shoved her high heeled boot into his shoulder, taking him down to the ground, her foot holding him to the ground while the man groaned with watery pain as blood gushed down his face from his broken nose.

"Holy. Shit." Jim's voice was shaking as his brain tried very hard to catch back up to speed with the beat down he'd just witnessed, which had happened so fast it was nigh impossible for him to process.

Wren smirked with such cool and yet self-pleased ease that Jim found himself struck dumb. "Still don't think I'm a security officer?" Wren dug into the pocket of her jacket dug out her black credit card and turned back to the bar tender. "Put his on my tab. I'll be back." She tossed him the card and turned to Jim, that same devilishly wicked smirk still on her face. "Shall we go, Captain?"

As if he needed any encouragement.

"Who the hell was that guy anyway?" Jim asked when he and his new companion were five blocks from the bar. The San Francisco evening was brisk from the cool wind rolling in off the bay but was refreshing after the heat of the bar and the alcohol.

"Someone I turned down once." Wren's eyes were positively glowing now, not just with the skylights of the city, and Jim once again had the sneaking suspicion that perhaps Wren wasn't human. Even a well trained security officer her size shouldn't have been able to single handedly take down the mountain of the man in the bar with less than five moves.

"I can't imagine why," Jim sassed. Wren snickered a little and Jim loved to hear the sound of her laugh across the cool San Francisco air. "I don't have whiskey, but I'm sure it could be located, if you wanted to come back to my place for a drink."

Wren's lips twisted into a sinful grin. "You don't need to get me drunk, Captain." And with that she laced her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. Caught off guard, Jim could do nothing but accept as her wicked tongue slipped past his defenses and raided his mouth with utter confidence. He heard her hum softly in her throat as her fingers combed through his hair, her nails just ever so lightly nicking his scalp, sending little tingles of pleasure through him. But Jim was never to be outdone when it came to matters of the flesh, oh no.

One of his hands slid from the small of her back up between her shoulder blades and over her graceful neck before tightening in the soft, ruffled spikes at the back of her head. Her hair was as soft as the feathers of her namesake, and as his fingers curled through the short clipped strands and held on, he used his grip to open her more fully to his exploration, his tongue emerging to join and tangle with hers and then past, deep into the recess of her mouth. She tasted like cinnamon and cherries soaked in whiskey and he found himself groaning at the taste of her. She chuckled into his mouth and pulled back, amused to find him searching for her mouth for a split second before recovering.

"My place. It's closer. And I already have whiskey there."

She took him by the hand and walked with him, completely unruffled by the nearly warp-core meltdown worthy temperature of their kiss. As the darkness deepened, the ice blue color of Wren's eyes cooled slightly and became less bright, and Jim began to tell himself that he had imagined her being anything other than an extremely gorgeous woman who soaked up every particle of light around her and reflected it back to blind the rest of the world.

Wren led him through the streets of San Francisco up to a ten story building of questionable safety code status. "Doesn't look like much on the outside. But don't judge a book by its cover hm?"

Jim shook his head and flicked his tongue over his lips. "Never." It was getting hard to walk with no blood in his brain, it all having been driven below his belt. She pulled him into an alley through a chained gate to which she had the key and then through a backdoor into the darkened building. She led him through a complicated twist of halls and rooms before bringing him to an elevator that fortunately opened for them quickly. As soon as they were inside and the doors closed, Jim pounced on her, pushing her up against the wall of the elevator and kissing her again, desperate for more of her taste on his tongue. He was not disappointed and she kissed him back with a heady fervor, her nails now raking through his hair as she clutched him close. In a bold move he picked her up and held her against the wall and ground the desperate steel of his erection into her pelvis. He sighed raggedly at the friction and she let out a choked breath as her head knocked back into the elevator wall. She panted his name as his mouth left hers in favor of kissing the sweet column of her neck, leaving the barest impressions of his teeth behind. Her fingers tightened on his hair and pulled his head up to kiss him again and this time he felt the sting of her teeth in his lower lip. He gasped at the rough sensation but grinned wildly.

"You like it rough?" he asked with a heady exhale.

She snickered. "You have no idea."

Just then the elevator door opened on the tenth floor and they all but tumbled out. Wren dragged him to the door at the end but while she was searching for her keys in her pocket Jim took her by the hips and pulled her back roughly against him. She almost growled and twisted in his arms and attached herself to his mouth again, her nails nicking into the nape of his neck as she slid a thigh between his legs and rubbed back and forth, creating a blistering heat between them that made Jim tremble in her grip.

"Shall I embarrass you outside my door, Captain? Or would you rather me get us inside first?" she hissed in his ear.

Jim gasped for breath, his brain all but melting at her touch, losing the capacity for rational thought. "Inside," he panted.

She grinned against his mouth and then turned again. She slid her key into the door and twisted, letting them into the den of her loft. Even in his hazy, alcohol and lust soaked brain, Jim took the time to appreciate the space. It was immaculately well kept, not a piece of furniture out of place or item on the shelves off by a fraction of an inch. It was sparsely furnished but that allowed for a sense of greater openness, something Jim could certain appreciate after having been aboard a star ship for months and months at a time. In front of the kitchen appliances was a bar, well stocked with many different types of alcohol. In front of the large unobstructed windows was a king sized bed, and off to the left of the bed pressed up against the other wall was a towering bookcase, full to the brim with books. Next to the book case was a small entertainment center with a TV but the main attraction there was not the flat screen, but the stereo system and the hundreds upon hundreds of CDs.

"You still use CDs?" Jim asked as Wren shut the door behind them and locked it tight.

Wren cocked an eyebrow at him. "I have a digital player too, for when I work out and run, but nothing beats surround sound."

Jim nodded with an appreciative glance at her music collection. "I feel the same."

Wren rounded on him and now fisted her hand into his shirt and hauled him forward for another kiss. "I'm sure you do, Captain," she hissed between dives of her tongue between his teeth. Her hands now yanked on his leather jacket, rolling it off his shoulders and throwing it aside to land on the floor somewhere and he did the same to her. As soon as she was free of the fabric he ducked his head and used his teeth and tongue all across her shoulders, upper chest, and collarbone, causing Wren to pant softly and rock her hips up into his.

"Just as I thought," Jim muttered to himself as he began to try and figure out how to undo the leather detailing of Wren's dress so he could begin to take it off.

"You thought this far ahead- that undoing my dress would be a challenge?" Wren asked him with a mischievous expression. Jim met her eye almost sheepishly but she grinned at him.

"It's easy," she whispered. She took his hand and guided it over her shoulders and around her neck where he felt a small snapping clasp for the leather. It came undone easily under his fingers and she then peeled it away from her neck, ducking out from underneath the halter and letting it fall down her chest. Jim skated his fingers down a little further and felt the zipper of her dress that he easily pulled down, loosening the fabric on her body. Tenderly, almost reverently, he began to peel the cloth away from her skin and now that he was in much closer proximity, he realized he'd missed something about Wren.

She had a rather prominent tattoo, which had been hidden by the leather of her dress; the image of a necklace chain inked into her skin that sloped further and further down her body and as Jim peeled her dress away and she carefully stepped out of it, leaving her only in her bra, panties, and heels, he saw that between her breasts was where the design blossomed into a pendant, but not just any pendant. He had to undo her bra to see the full tattoo (not that he minded in the least) and as the contraption fell to the floor, he let out a soft exhale of surprise.

At the end of the chain was a dagger, but the blade was speared through and around an intricately designed skeleton key. On the hilt, spanning from one side to the other was the word 'Alí̱theia'. Jim looked up from the tattoo into Wren's eyes. They were glowing again, the pale blue searing him like an icy branding iron. He had that same sensation that perhaps she wasn't human, but he was far too distracted when she pushed herself into his chest and caught his mouth in another biting kiss. He abandoned himself to her sweet and spicy ministrations, his hands dragging all ten fingertips from her shoulders, down her back, skating over her hips and back up before he slid around to her front and palmed the swells of her breasts. When his fingers tightened he was rewarded with a gasp and her teeth sinking into his bottom lip with enough force to almost draw blood. He used his arm to push against the small of her back so she was now pressed completely against him, and her hips grinded into his as they rocked back and forth together. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the bar and decided that perhaps later in the night he'd fuck her senseless on its sleek, polished surface, but for now he backed her up towards the bed even as she clawed at his shirt, yanking on the hem and forcing their mouths to part so she could pull it away from him.

She collapsed onto the bed and he followed her, crawling on top of her as he caught her mouth for another blinding kiss, and now his teeth also nipped and bit against her lips, causing her to shudder against him. She reached down and pulled the zipper closure for her heeled boots and yanked them off her feet. He rose up on his forearms to give her room and as her hands slid back up her legs, she hooked her thumbs into her underwear and pulled them down. Jim hummed in approval and kissed his way from her lips, down her chin and jaw, over her throat, following the line of her tattoo before sweeping up to catch a hardened nipple between his teeth. She let out a husky groan, her fingers sweeping through his hair and down his shoulder blades, the sharpness of her nails biting into his muscled flesh. He shivered under the touch and kept right up, plucking the stiffened peak with his teeth before soothing the sting with his tongue and lips, switching back and forth until she was writhing underneath him, her hips arching up and grinding into the steel of his cock still trapped beneath his jeans.

"Tease," she hissed in his ear. She tightened her fingers into his hair and with a lot more force than Jim was accustomed to experiencing from a woman he was about to have sex with, yanked on his hair and flicked her wrist, forcing him to roll over on her king size bed, the sheets and blankets rumpling and billowing around them. She pinned him down and began to kiss and bite her way down his chest, teasing him relentlessly with her pelvis grinding onto his hips until his head tipped back, the vulnerable arch of his throat exposed. She swooped in for the imaginary kill and sank her teeth deep into his throat, just above the point where the pulse beats, her tongue pressing down and flicking over that spot until Kirk's fingers bit deep into her hips and rocked her hard against his erection.

Wren continued to lick and suck his neck, no doubt set on giving him a prominent bruise, even as her hands slid down his muscled chest and abdomen until she reached the buckle of his belt. Faster than any woman Jim had ever encountered before, she had his belt undone, the button popped and his fly down.

"Off," she growled, authority and demand in the snarled word. When he didn't move fast enough to please her, she nipped him on the top of his ear, a sharp incisor causing a flash of pain in the tender flesh. "Now!"

He arched up underneath her and in a rather undignified manner managed to wiggle out of both his pants and boxers, kicking them off the bed. She pushed back down on him to force him back and now she rested her hips almost on top of his cock which was straining back towards his belly, all but screaming for a touch. She grinded the wet slit of her pussy against him for a moment, just to tease him, and Jim had the sense she was driving him crazy much more for her benefit than for his. He watched her work herself over on him, the city lights mixing with the moonlight coming through the massive window behind them, washing Wren in a ghostly silver blue aura. Her dark hair took on azure tones while her skin practically glowed. The tattoo on her chest seemed to become darker as she rocked back on him while her head tipped back and her eyes closed, her lips twisted into an expression of both pleasure and power.

But Jim wasn't about to be undone. He took it up an notch and licked the pad of his thumb and while her eyes were still closed, snuck his hand between her thighs, running his thumb down the soft swell of her sex until he found her clit, finding her to be aching and swollen. As soon as he brushed the bundle of nerves, her eyes snapped open and looked down at him. She said nothing, but she didn't have to. The entire challenge, the dare, was in her eyes, and Jim didn't have an ice cube's chance in hell of resisting. He pressed down harder and began to grind his thumb back and forth. She panted softly and tipped forward, her hands on his chest, the cut of her hair swishing around her cheeks and jaw, her hips rocking back and forth, desperate for more of that touch.

With her eyes still closed she lowered herself down towards Jim's chest while he took himself in hand and gently guided himself until the head of his cock was pressed up against her dripping entrance. Wren sucked in a breath and her eyes opened again and found his. As she rocked back onto him, taking him all the way in one smooth stroke, she kissed him, and lightening ripped through him, shocking him to the core. He gasped softly at the sensation and at first he thought she would smirk into his mouth, but didn't. Instead she kissed him ever deeper, as if trying to devour him whole.

And he wouldn't have minded very much if she did, sharp teeth and all.

She rocked her hips in a slow and steady rhythm, setting the pace for both of them in a magnificent rhythm that was bone deep in pleasure with every single stroke. When her lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen she pulled her mouth away and sat up, one hand on Jim's chest to balance herself as she continued to ride him, picking up the pace just a touch, just enough to make them both desperate. He arched into her, striking her deeper, and she groaned deeply. His hands found her hips and tried to urge her to go faster, to ratchet the pleasure higher for both of them, but she refused, taking his wrists in each of her hands. She led his hands to her breast and he happily squeezed the sweet mounds of flesh, tweaking her nipples just enough to send shivers down her spine. She grinded herself sharply against him, the rocking motion of her hips losing its rhythm as she sought the most pleasure for herself, but Jim didn't mind in the slightest. When she pressed back on him he arched up and at that moment her mouth dropped open and her hand fell on his chest as she leaned forward.

"Fuck! Do that again," she panted. She rocked down and Jim didn't miss a beat, arching beneath her sharply, grinding the head of his cock against that spot that must have made lightening bolts of her own tear through her. She growled again, her fingers turning to claws against his chest and pulling down enough to hurt but it was all worth it for the expression of ecstasy and pleasure written all over Wren's face.

Her control seemed to snap. She now began to ride him furiously, slamming her hips down onto his even as he bucked up underneath her. His hands left her breasts and steadied her at the hips. She tried to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear but it fell forward again, shadowing her face and tickling Jim's cheeks even as she leaned down to kiss him again. Jim pulled her down tight towards him, chest to chest and belly to belly with her now. Her fingers clawed the sheets near his shoulders as she let out a whine very close to his ear. Jim knew she was close, and he raced to get her there, desperate to feel and see and experience what it was like when she came undone from pleasure.

She whined again even as he increased the pace of his hips, hammering her hard, straight and true with every thrust. She seized and thrashed in his arms, gasping with a strangled mewling sound until she bit down on his neck, right at the juncture of his shoulder. Jim grunted at the pain as her teeth ground down with vicious strength but when she let go and let out that same high pitched sound it was all worth it, especially when he felt her convulse around him, all but strangling his cock as she rode through her climax with the force of a ten point earthquake. The pain from her bite was enough to back him down from his own meltdown, something he was grateful for, because he was nowhere near ready to have this be over. She soaked him to the belly as he slowed the pace of his hips but still languidly drew in and out of her trembling body.

"Good fucking God," Wren panted as she pushed herself up on her hands and looked down at him. "Now I know why they made you Captain."

Jim tipped his head back with an enormous self satisfied smirk plastered on his face. His ego was so stroked he should have been suspicious, but he just couldn't be, not with Wren still gasping and that look of pure pleasure on her face. He arched up and kissed her chastely for a split second before palming her hip, encouraging her to turn over. They rolled together and Jim guided her onto her hands and knees. Without her heels, she stood at only five six to his six feet frame, and so as he folded himself over her, he was able to envelope her completely in his body. As he sank his cock deep into her squeezing heat she sighed raggedly; he held himself on his hands as he pressed his chest against the smooth expanse of her back. Her ass fit the curve of his hips perfectly as he rolled into her again and again, drawing deep strokes through her body. She groaned at the sensation, the deep aching need he filled her with as the push and pull of his hips made her shiver under him. He hummed in satisfaction while he bent over her and lightly teethed her skin, nuzzling the nape of her neck, inhaling the smell of her skin and hair. The moonlight was still soaking over both of them and had turned the obsidian black sheets into a hazy sea of steel blue. Her pale fingers twisted and tightened in the cloth as she arched her neck and twisted to look at him.

"More," she panted.

He caught her mouth in a kiss before she could turn away, but even as his tongue probed her mouth he obliged her, rolling his hips sharp and steady against her. She grunted in pleasure even as she rocked her ass against him in a quick, steady canter. She tore her mouth free from his and bowed forward on the bed, sinking down onto her forearms. Jim, so turned on by the submissive position she took beneath him, hammered home, taking a hold of her hips and beginning to pound her faster and harder. Sweat bloomed across his skin despite the cool air in the loft and it was all he could do to keep his focus as Wren began to let out a steady stream of mewling whines. Her shoulder blades knotted up as she pushed back into him again.

She was close, he could tell just by the way she was all but thrashing underneath him, and he raced to get her there, desperate to feel her lose control again. He let his hand creep underneath her and tweak her nipple briefly before skimming down her flat, firm belly and finding where they were joined. He lightly stroked her clit as he gently slowed the pace of his hips, causing her to tremble and a breathy whine to escape her throat.

"Ah fuck, Jim," Wren whimpered. She sounded like she was trying to say more but Jim decided to silence her with a sharp snap of his hips that he followed through with a merciless rhythm until she was all but screaming into the pillows as she came around him again, squeezing down so hard Jim found himself winded. He slowed his hips and withdrew with an almost painful shudder. He was achingly hard still, desperate to cum, to reach his own blinding end, but she was shivering underneath him. She all but collapsed underneath him and squeezed her thighs together, writhing slowly on the bed as she came down from cloud nine.

After several long, heady moments wherein she was able to recollect herself, Wren turned over and nudged Jim's shoulders, pushing him onto his back again. He might have made her scream, but she was the boss and he'd know it before she was done with him. But what made him different was that he challenged her instead of merely accepting her control, and that made it so much more fun.

She climbed back onto him and kissed his jaw, fisting her hands into his hair and pulling so his throat was bared for her again. She grinded her dripping core onto the steel of his cock, drawing a gasp from him and she smirked. His hands were on her hips, trying to guide himself back into her sweet, searing heat but she resisted his touch for the moment.

"You want to cum, Jim?" she asked him, nipping his earlobe gently. When he only nodded, she sank her teeth down into the space of skin just below his ear and jaw, having realized he was sensitive there. He thrashed but she soothed the tender spot with her tongue, humming in her throat while she did so. "Answer me."

"Yes," he panted. His toes were curling now as she continued to grind herself on him. He was so close he could practically taste the blinding rush of his orgasm on the tip of his tongue.

"Of course you do, but I'm the one who'll give it to you," Wren hissed in his ear. She arched her hips up with her own hand this time guided him back into her body. She swayed her hips, grinding the head of his dick into her sweet spot again and again. His legs tensed and his hips bucked as he panted for breath, so fucking close it felt like his entire body was a sparking live wire trying to set fire to a pool of gasoline. When he managed to get his eyes open he saw that breathtaking look of ecstatic pleasure on Wren's face and he knew that no matter what he had to send her over the edge just one more time. He bucked his hips sharply underneath her and she gasped a choked breath as her fingers slid down her body and snared her clit, rubbing quick and hard as she rocked up and down on him. Wordless whimpers escaped her throat as she tossed her head back. Jim thought he heard her say she was close and he hoped to God it was true, because he just couldn't take it anymore. His hands found her hips and he brought her down in rapid pulls onto his cock even as his hips jagged up into her in a brutal and ragged rhythm. He howled as he crashed into completion, pleasure erupting over every inch of his body, soaking in bone deep while Wren bowed forward and stifled her own cry of gratification by biting him on the neck again, this time so hard she drew blood. Salty sweet crimson fluid dripped into her mouth and she hungrily licked it up even as the tremors of her orgasm wracked over her in relentless waves.

Punch drunk and gasping for air Jim slowed the pulse of his hips until he finally lay boneless beneath her. "Holy shit," he breathed. He reached up and kissed the damp strands of hair at her temples, cheek, and neck. "That was incredible."

She remained where she lay, purring deep in her throat while she nuzzled the bite she had done to him. The wound was still stinging but Jim really didn't mind. It just made him appreciate the foggy haze of pleasure still washing over him all that much more.

She hummed in acknowledgement of his words and lightly kissed his throat and jaw again. "You still want that drink?" she asked.

He nodded and she slipped off of him and padded away for a brief moment to the bathroom to clean up before re-emerging, sliding her electric blue panties lined in black lace back on and picking up his leather jacket and shrugging into it.

"Wren, are you trying to kill me?" Jim asked as he watched her almost prance towards the bar. The blood was already flowing south again, the channels north blocked by the spectacle of her prowling about in just her underwear and his jacket.

"Maybe." She smirked over her shoulder and waggled her brows at him. "You coming?"

He rolled off her bed and took a second to find his boxers and put them on before he followed her into the better lit bar area of her loft. He took a seat at the bar and watched as Wren leaned up against its surface, her breasts and tattoo peeking out from under his jacket, her hair a spikey mess after his constant mussing. "What's your pleasure, Jim?"

"Whatever you're having," he said casually, but his eyes were still watching her acutely.

She snickered a bit and nodded. "Aye then." She pulled out a large glass bottle of alcohol and two rounded glasses and into the glasses she placed one of the rounded balls of ice retrieved from the freezer (and of course Jim appreciated the way the blast of cold made her nipples tighten), placed them in the glass and then poured a respectable measure of rich, amber color fluid into the cups. She spun them like a top to swish the fluid over the ice and then passed one to him and kept the other.

"Cheers," she said, raising her glass to him.

They drank at the same time, and Jim was struck by the flavor. This was definitely bourbon, not whiskey, and it hit his tongue with an incredibly smooth richness. Oak accents fluttered at the very edge, rounded out by the sharp tang of alcohol that was blended with both cinnamon and cherries. He sighed at the warm flavor coating his mouth and swallowed gratefully.

"That's good," he noted. "Bones would kill to get his hands on this."

She smiled a little and poured them both a second cup. "I make it myself. You can take some back to him if you like."

"You do quite a lot of things that are illegal, Wren," Jim noted. "Assaulting someone in a bar, brewing your own liquor without a license or regulation by the government," he ticked them off on his fingers, "Is there a dead body in the closet I should know about?"

She snorted. "Keep that up and maybe I won't share," she sassed.

He laughed a little bit. "It's not like I'm going to turn you in or anything. That would be right up there with getting in the way of Uhura while she's doing a deep space translation."

Her eyes flashed, glowing again, and now he plucked up the courage to finally ask what had been on and off his mind all night. "Are you human?"

She curled her tongue around her teeth as she came out from around the bar and pressed up against him, prowling over him until his back was on top of the glistening surface, nudging the glass he'd been drinking out of out of the way carelessly until it shattered on the floor but she didn't even notice.

"Does it matter?" she asked. The ice blue in her eyes was burning like alcohol set to blaze and Jim swallowed as she rocked her pelvis onto his rapidly returning erection.

"No," he panted, kissing her with just as much abandon as he pursued everything of value in his life and they spent the next several hours screwing each other on every surface of her loft that would hold their combined weight, and by the time they were through Wren was laying weak kneed and exhausted on the hard wood floor at the base of the bar and Jim was hovering over her. She barely noticed when he scooped her up and carried her to bed and laid her down amongst the sheets wherein she immediately buried herself, kicking and pulling until she had a nest of material to support herself in.

"Stay," she panted sleepily, reaching out for him and closing her fingers on his wrist.

He leaned over her and kissed her lips one more time. "I can't." He combed his fingers through her messy hair. "Will I see you again?" It was so odd to let those words fall from his mouth. Normally it was the other way around.

She nodded lazily, so exhausted she could hardly move, or speak. "I'll find you." The words were slurred through a yawn and Jim smiled fondly down at her before kissing her temple one last time and leaving her locked safe and securely in her loft. But even by the time he crashed face first into his own bed, she was prowling through his dreams, her ice blue eyes lighting up all the dark corners of his mind.