#Afsaneh just wants to be with Philippa

[presidentlauraroslin]

Kinktober day 7 - Praise kink - mirror!Philippa Georgiou/prime!Afsaneh Paris

A huge thank you to @gracefullyclumsy for keeping me sane whle writing this and giving me feedback.

Afsaneh shivered despite her quarters having the same temperature as always, perfect for her, maybe a little too warm for everybody else. She knew it didn’t have anything to with temperature and everything with the woman sitting on her sofa in Afsaneh’s silk robe, her nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric.

“Strip.” Philippa’s voice was as cold as always. It betrayed all the horrors she was responsible for, all the lives she had taken without remorse and Afsaneh knew she should put an end to this. She should never have started fucking the woman who was but wasn’t her dead wife to begin with, because now that she had started, she found it impossible to stop. Touching her, being touched by her, it made her feel something again.

She unzipped her jacket and let it drop on the floor. Philippa raised an eyebrow. “Slowly.”

Afsaneh swallowed. She knew this game, knew it far too well, especially with her. She obeyed, getting rid of her clothes slower, giving the former emperor once again what she wanted. She wished it weren’t necessary to do it, to submit to Philippa just to get her to touch her, desperately searching for a glimpse of the woman she had lost, knowing that this Philippa would never show her that kind of love.

She wished she didn’t like it so much.

Once she was down to her underwear, not in anyway Starfleet regulation, something she had put on that morning in anticipation of this moment. Philippa’s eyes darkened, something flashing across her face that Afsaneh had come to recognize as arousal. “Did you wear that for me?”

“I did.” It was no use lying about it. They both knew what they wanted from each other. It was the only reason this worked, despite the infinite amount reasons that said this was a bad, completely fucked up idea. Nevertheless, it still caused a hint of smile that wasn’t quite as terrifying to pass over Philippa’s face.

“It’s very pretty. I almost feel honored.” The words lacked her usual sharpness and Afsaneh felt herself relax a little. This Philippa wasn’t kind, not in the slightest. She carried hatred, disdain and an utter lack of empathy in her veins, but she had learned that if she wanted to keep this improbable arrangement going, she had to treat Afsaneh with some semblance of kindness, the same way Afsaneh had learned to submit. “It’s almost too pretty to take off, but do it anyway.”

Philippa’s eyes followed every movement, her breathing getting a little faster as the bra hit the deck, followed by the scrap of lace that served as her panties. Finally, Philippa leaned forward and Afsaneh forgot how to breathe under her intense gaze. Philippa took her time, slowly dragging her eyes over every inch of her body. “So good at following orders and so beautiful.”

Her words caused a warmth to spread through Afsaneh’s body. It wasn’t anything like she had had with her Pippa, but this feeling, knowing she has pleased this other Philippa, it was good enough. It turned her on, made her want to do more for her. She wanted to please her enough that Philippa lost herself in what Afsaneh did to her, lost herself enough that she could pretend for the briefest of moments she could pretend it was her Pippa. “Kneel.”

Slowly, almost with a catlike grace, Philippa got up from the sofa and approached her. Where Pippa had been beautiful because of her warmth, her goodness, Philippa was beautiful because she was cold, calculating, scary. Her fingers brushed against Afsaneh’s cheek, slowly tilting her head up until she was looking into her eyes. “Such a good girl. Those pretty lips.”

Philppa’s thumb swiped over her bottom lip in a show of possessiveness that made Afsaneh’s spine tingle. She leaned down and for a moment, Afsaneh thought Philippa was going to break their one rule and kiss her, it wouldn’t surprise her, but then her hand slid into her hair and she tugged harshly, her mouth close to Afsaneh’s ear. “Are you going to make me feel good? Are you going to use that talented tongue?”

Afsaneh almost moaned at her tone, at her words. She could do this, she was good at this. This was what she wanted. She nodded, despite the tight grip on her hair and felt Philippa grin against her ear, before she straightened and undid the knot of her robe with one hand, allowing it to fall open. “Show me.”

It was as much the hand in her hair pushing her forward as it was Afsaneh moving voluntarily that put her face against Philippa’s pussy, her mouth opening, as if she had done it a thousand times, to lick her from entrance to clit. It always shocked her that Philippa tasted exactly the same as her wife. It made easier and impossibly harder at the same time. She heard Philippa moan and let it spur her on, working her tongue against her folds, pushing it inside, teasing her clit.

“That’s it. That’s how I like it.” Afsaneh hummed against her, letting Philippa’s words wash over her, a pleasant feeling settling between her thighs. She could feel her getting wetter, her nails scraping over Afsaneh’s scalp as she pushed her even closer and Afsaneh was happy to go, building her up in the way she knew Philippa liked, putting her tongue everywhere she could, licking her thoroughly. Philippa wasn’t much for teasing, but she didn’t want it fast and hard either when she was playing this game.

Philippa moaned and it sounded a little strained this time and Afsaneh had learned that it meant she was losing her patience. She didn’t need to order her around anymore, not for this part. She moved up, wrapping her lips around Philippa’s clit, moving her tongue against it as she sucked. Her knees were starting to ache and the grip on her hair was becoming uncomfortable. She didn’t care, not as Philippa’s hips snapped forward and her thighs trembled.

“Right there, that’s good.” The sound of her voice made Afsaneh moan against her. She loved it when Philippa let her control slip, when her noises came freely and her body moved like she hadn’t once been emperor of a brutal, intergalactic empire. She was chasing her pleasure, rolling her hips against Afsaneh’s mouth. Afsaneh wanted her to come, she needed it. She wanted to see her fall apart. She sucked harder, adding a hint of teeth.

Philippa was always shocking quiet when she came, her lips parting for a cry that never came, as her body froze for a moment before her orgasm caused her to spasm. It was beautiful to watch. For a moment she was completely caught up in something Afsaneh had done to her. And then Philippa looked down at her, her eyes as intense as ever, a rare smile on her lips that looked predatory as she pulled Afsaneh away from her pussy.

“You’re so good to me. It seems like such a waste that you’re limiting yourself. People would line up to fuck you if they only knew. But you’re my good little commodore.” Her last words were practically a purr, her hand coming to rest against Afsaneh’s cheek. Afsaneh couldn’t help but lean into her touch. Despite her slight frame, Philippa was towering over her, brushing her fingers over the wetness on her chin. “Shall I return the favor?”

“Yes, please.”

[lodessa]

@kjaneway115 tagged me in this (9 months ago but I am terrible about letting these sit in my likes apparently)

Rules: list the first lines of your last 10 published stories. See if there are any patterns yourself, or have other people say what they notice. Tag up to 10 friends!  

1.A Keeping of Oaths (Game of Thrones, Jaime/Brienne)

“I have a confession to make,” Jaime tells her and Brienne feels her throat constrict.

2. A Bane of the Heart (Game of Thrones, Daenerys/Jorah)

They find her, still clutching his limp form, insensible to all that surrounds her.

3. Sleeplessness (Game of Thrones, Jaime/Brienne)

Her arm is heavy, solid across him with the dead weight of sleep. Brienne sleeps soundly, unlike him with his ghosts and his bad dreams. Jaime doesn’t begrudge her it. She deserves that peace, that solace and respite. He doesn’t. 

4. The Stranger Unveiled (Game of Thrones, Daenerys/Jorah)

Before her stood a red door, the one she remembered as a little girl.

5. Crisscrossed Boundaries (Star Trek: Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay)

“Alright,” he admits at last, “there is something.”

6. k’war’ma’khon (Star Trek: Discovery, Philippa Georgiou and the House of Sarek)

“Ambassador...” she pauses, knowing it is useless attempting to read Sarek’s face to ascertain the tenor of his intent but trying anyway, “I am sorry for the delay, this new ship is taking some getting used to. “

7. In the Arms of Justice (Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire, Jaime/Brienne)

“That was reckless you know,” he tells her, relieved and overwhelmed and willing to believe in the Seven anew after what he just witnessed, “You could have been killed.”

8. The Troublesome Heat of the Indian Subcontinent, the Insufferable Gabriel Lorca, and His Rather Fine Eyes: A Katrina Cornwell Story (Star Trek: Discovery, Katrina Cornwell/Gabriel Lorca)

“Now then, what was all that about?” Philippa asks the moment the door shuts behind the maid whom Afsaneh sent to show them up to their room, leaving them alone for the first time since their arrival at the Parises’ Calcutta estate.

9. a hundred thoughts to make one disappear (Game of Thrones, Jaime/Brienne)

“What’s below shit for honor then... That’s what I have. I have lived most of my life in infamy, but that was always the one thing I clung to: I was always true to Cersei, until now.”

Tagging: @janiedean, @ofwickedlight, @manalyzer13, @roguebelle, @austennerdita2533, @clonethemidwife, @joyful-voyager, @jhelenoftrek, @pixiedane, @theshortywrites and anyone else who wants to do this.

[radioactive-violet]

Some Paris/Georgiou Wedding Headcanons

1. Afsaneh asked Philippa to marry her.

2. Philippa picked the wedding music. (Just imagine her saying “Afsaneh, I love you. But I want the music to be from this century.”)

3. They compromise on the song for their first dance. They choose something jazz.

[musicin68]

Thoughts on Star Trek: Discovery

Totally disco.

I FINALLY started watching Discovery. Rather than binge it, I'm trying to take a moment to jot down a few thoughts in between episodes. A good exercise for me (if I write it enough I'm sure I can train my brain out of wanting to spell Michael with an 'eal' at the end). And maybe fun for those who have already seen it and want to laugh at my wild conjectures.

Spoilers follow.

I should state up front that I have been spoiled a little bit based on fics I have read and screen caps/trailers I've seen. This is what I know going in:

→ 1. The mirror universe features prominently in the series or at least the first season. I am a Trekkie of old so the fact that there are "bad" versions of everyone is just expected.

→ 2. There are mushrooms. Or a fungus. Time-traveling mushrooms? Which might be just a fanfic thing (and there is an author I owe a comment to), but seems weirdly specific...so I am going with "that's a thing" until I discover otherwise.

→ 3. Michael was raised on Vulcan by Sarek, making her Spock's eight hundred and twenty-third foster sibling, or thereabouts.

→ 4. Michelle Yeoh is hot.

Episode 1: The Vulcan Hello

Is that the ghost of ST:TNG I see lurking around that well? You've served as her first officer for seven years, have you? FINALLY ready for your own command?

Sorry. I have to take just a moment and mourn the missed opportunities of yesteryear. How awesome would it have been to promote Riker to Captain and Picard to Admiral and perfectly logically keep them both on the Enterprise? Certainly better than having to write stupid excuses for Riker turning down command after command after... but I digress.

You know, Vulcans always struck me as the shoot first, ask questions later type. No? No. Hahahaha, no. But I can see the logic so...I kinda like it. I do question Sarek's wisdom in letting a very distraught Michael in on this particular diplomatic option, but hey as a parent I am guilty of shitty judgement from time to time when it comes to my kids too.

Michael's confrontation with Captain Georgiou is disturbingly specific. I'm trying to save the lives of everyone on this ship. I AM TRYING TO SAVE YOUR LIFE! She is so intense. I realize she is probably projecting her childhood trauma onto the present and Philippa is a parental figure to her, BUT I cannot help thinking: What does she know that we don't?? Is she from the future? Did a future Michael ambush present Michael on her way back from her father-daughter talk and stuff her vulcan-neck-pinched body in a closet? Don't kill Michelle Yeoh! She is at least 70% of the reason I'm watching this right now. If she dies we'll only have the evil version! And boy wouldn't that be a missed opportunity. I would watch an entire episode of her acting opposite herself. Oh goddamnit. She was listed in the credits as a "special guest star." Future Michael you're doomed to fail!

How long does a vulcan neck pinch last? (See answer below.) That seemed awfully short. Either Philippa has a remarkably strong constitution or Michael isn't very good at them. I wonder if future Michael has gotten better.

Solve for ×, where × = duration of unconsciousness.

On the upside, we get to see the Captain go General Leia on Michael's ass. AND she sticks to her principles and doesn't shoot Michael first either. Even on stun. I think I love her.

Overall, it was a great start. I'm sure the Klingons are important, aside from being a device to fuck everything up for the awesome women running this Federation starship...but I'll be honest, even as dramatic as their scenes were in tone and editing, they were remarkably uncompelling. Which, now that I think about it, feels really odd.

→ There's a guy (I think it's a guy). He wants to do a thing. And keep the Klingons from dying out by uniting them. Or he just wants to be in charge. Not sure. Both? Whatever. Light the beacon, Pippin! (Oh! Voq! The white skinned Klingon with something to prove. What do you know, I remembered his name! How about that. Yeah, I'm probably gonna keep calling him Pippin.)

Maybe it's not so odd. For the first time in... ever?... I was just shown a Federation starship on which the two highest ranking officers are women. My inner child is dancing and screaming "yay, that could be me!", and my inner old woman is gesticulating rudely and screaming "it's about time you fucking cunts!". So yeah, it's pretty hard to muster up interest in that Klingon dude's overly dramatic party.

Questions going forward: → 1. When are we going to get Shohreh? Paging Admiral Paris, Admiral Afsaneh Paris. Season 3? 4? → 2. Will I keep watching this show when it turns out Michelle Yeoh is not in every episode? → 3. How emotionally fucked up is present Michael going to be when she finally gets out of that closet?

[rikerssexblouse]

Kinktober Day 9: Tit-fucking

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s not the ninth. But shit got busy, so here we are. 

Pairing: Afsaneh Paris (Commodore Paris)/Brett Anderson (Admiral Anderson). Early in their relationship; they are probably around 25. 

Fandom: Star Trek Discovery

Rating: Explicit. Obviously. 

Summary: AN ODE TO SHOHREH AGHDASHLOO’S TITS. 

Lieutenant Brett Anderson thought that Afsaneh Paris might be the most beautiful woman he'd ever met.

She had a sharp mind and soft curves and a smoky voice and it was no coincidence that he'd had a crush on her since they'd been at the Academy together. At the time, he'd been working up the courage to ask her out when a fellow cadet, Philippa Georgiou, had beaten him to it. Brett had gracefully backed off, accepting that they would only be friends. She’d dated Philippa until graduation, when life, in the form of Starfleet postings in different places, had pulled them apart.

But now that seemed so long ago. They were officers now, and Brett and Afsaneh were stationed on the same ship, both recently promoted to lieutenant. That was the past; mere childish flirtations. This was now. 

And now she was seated on his bed and smiling at him. His stomach did a little flip.

Brett had been hesitant to seek anything but friendship since they’d been stationed together, but the longer they’d worked together, the closer they’d gotten. They shared similar career goals, and while he could be brusque and aloof, she was warm and open and easy to talk to. And it had been so easy to talk to her, to sit with her late into the night, talking about nothing and everything. 

Until one night they’d ended up sitting a little too close for professional propriety and she’d flushed and he’d scooted away automatically. When she had looked up at him through dark lashes, his stomach had done a little flip, just like the one he’d just had, and his brain had told him “This is it. Don’t blow your chance again.”

He’d tripped over the words a little, but she’d smiled and accepted his invitation to go on a proper date. Then she’d leaned in and whispered “Can I kiss you now?”

He’d barely moved his head before her lips were on his and he’d held her close, clutching her tightly to him as they kissed. That night, he hadn't left her quarters until the morning.

That had only been a month ago, and they were now fully immersed in the early stages of infatuation. Every moment he spent time with her, he got to learn something new about her, to experience something new with her.

It was intoxicating.

And for the fifth time in the last couple of weeks, he was very thankful that their new ranks entitled them to the privilege of private quarters.

Not breaking eye contact, Afsaneh unzipped her uniform jacket and tossed it aside. Brett watched her hungrily. The regulation black undershirt underneath was pulled tight across her chest and his eyes were drawn down to the swell of her breasts. Leaning forward, he reached for her, his mouth finding her collarbone and his hand finding her breast.

He squeezed gently, enjoying the give of soft flesh under his hand and Afsaneh sighed into his caress. His stomach clenched, thrilled by the sound, and he squeezed again, kissing up her neck and hoping for another sigh. This time he got a pleased “mmm.”

Pulling back, his hands slid to her sides and he pulled the undershirt over her head. Afsaneh raised her arms obligingly and shook out her hair when he was done. The black bra underneath was simple, with just a hint of lace at the edge. but he cleavage it created was considerable. Her breasts rose and fell with her breath and Brett suddenly became aware of the way his cock was straining against his pants. He reached up reverently with both hands, squeezing gently and drawing his thumbs across her nipples, caressing her through the fabric.

Afsaneh’s breath hitched and Brett’s cock twitched. He kissed the tops of her breasts. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured into her flesh.

He was only vaguely aware of her hands on him, one around his shoulders and the other resting on his head. Her fingers ran through his hair, nails scraping at the nape of his neck as he kissed her.

Desperate to kiss more of her, he reached behind her to unhook the bra. She let go of him, helping to pull it off once he’d unfastened it, and his gaze was brought once again to her magnificent breasts. They were large and plump, dusky nipples hardening, unprotected in the cool air. Brett groaned, reaching for her more urgently, hands on her breasts and mouth kissing lower till it found a nipple. He swirled his tongue around it and sucked on it gently and Afsaneh gasped.

Her hand pressed against his erection, caressing it through his pants, and his response was immediate, cock hardening at her touch.

“Come here,” she whispered. Brett pulled back to look at her, unclear on just what she wanted him to do.

Smiling, she pulled on his hip, encouraging him to raise up on his knees. She stayed seated in front of him, hands moving to unfasten his pants. One hand reached into his underwear to grasp his cock, and the other pulled his pants and underwear out of the way. He helped, pushing the clothing down to his knees, and was shifting to get them the rest of the way off when she stopped him.

He looked down at her, watching her pump his cock, a sly smile on her face. He still wasn’t quite sure what she wanted. “Come here,” she said again, a little more forcefully this time.

He inched forward on his knees and when he was close enough, she leaned forward, pressing his cock into the valley between her breasts and pushing them together, surrounding him.

She began to bob up and down, sliding him between her breasts and he groaned and muttered, “Oh fuck, Afsaneh.”

He pushed her hands out of the way and reached for her breasts, hands squeezing and caressing as they held her in place, tightly encircling his cock with her flesh. He began to thrust against her, and she stilled, letting him take over.

His thumbs rubbed circles around her nipples and Afsaneh gasped and bit her lip. He pinched them between the sides of his thumbs and his palms and she choked out a whimper. He palmed her breasts, fingers spreading, touching as much of her as he could. She made soft, pleased noises as he fondled her, watching his cock as it slid between her tits, the head of it popping rhythmically above the tops of her breasts as he thrust.

She opened her mouth and reached out towards him with her tongue and the warm wetness of it slid against the head of his cock, along the slit, and he groaned raggedly and squeezed her tightly. Then he was coming, sticky drops of cum hitting her chin and longer streams splashing across her breasts.

“Fuck, Afsaneh!” he ground out. Cum dripped down between her breasts, and then he was sliding in it, hot and slick and wet. A strangled groan burst from him as the last drops spurted out, dotting Afsaneh’s tits. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, hips slowing as let go of her, sliding against her chest one last time.

Afsaneh fell back against his bed, and Brett was struck for a moment by how gorgeous she looked, smiling and flushed and glistening. Leaning forward, he reached under her thighs and pulled her towards him.

She cried out in surprise as she slid down the bed and he knelt in front of her, hands pressing into her thighs. When he licked between her lips, he was thrilled to realize how wet she already was. Afsaneh threw her head back and moaned. “Oh yes… “

[currentlycaptainparis]

“Jāné-del-am.” Philippa’s voice is as distorted as her body. The binary stars have not been kind to her; their heat has pulled her skin tight against her bones, her face leathery except for the bite-sized chunks of flesh missing from forehead and cheeks. "I came home." The mek'leth still embedded in her chest makes her wheeze as she reaches jerkily towards Afsaneh. "Don't you recognise me? I'm your wife. To have and to hold..." Blood burbles from the gash that was once her mouth. "...Forever."

Destroy My Muse On Anon

Provoke them, upset them, frighten them, make them cry! I want tears and regret and pain and just plain oodles of angst.

Sickbay was loud. Afsaneh knew that. There were monitors beeping and people rushing about, prepping Philippa for surgery. But all Afsaneh could hear was her wife’s voice.

“You are home, Sayang,” Afsaneh was fighting back her tears. “Stay strong. We’ll be together forever.” She reached out to her wife but was pulled back by an orderly as Philippa was whisked into surgery. She stood there, frozen and reaching out, looking at where Philippa had been.

[cosmic-llin]

For the ask, Michael Burnham! ♥

How I feel about this character

Oh Michael!

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I don’t have any major ships for Michael, and in fact I haven’t particularly been drawn into shipping the Disco characters together generally (Philippa/Afsaneh doesn’t count because only one of them is actually in the show!) Perhaps that will change with time? I don’t mind her and Ash, and I think there’s a lot of potential to explore there given that they’re both children of two worlds in their ways, both sometimes feeling torn between a culture of origin and a culture that they’ve lived in. (Although for Ash it’s unclear which is which and where the lines are). So yeah, I think there are interesting things to be done there, but I felt like S1 needed another episode or two to establish their chemistry, it felt a little rushed to me.

I’m also not averse to Michael/Tilly but I’m more into it as a friendship.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Oh gosh, so many?

I LOVE LOVE LOVE her and Philippa together. I understand why they didn’t give us seven years on the Shenzhou (even if I don’t 100% agree) but I would have watched that show SO HARD. Michael getting less scared of her emotions, slowly realising that sometimes the human way is pretty effective. Philippa learning to accept that Michael is her own person, and a stubborn one at that, and that sometimes her Vulcan way of doing things really is the right way for her even if Philippa doesn’t totally get it. The gradual way Philippa begins to trust Michael with more and more responsibility... GAH, it could have been so beautiful.

But then I’m also really intrigued by where they’re going to take Michael’s relationship with Emperor Philippa. Like, there are a LOT of layers there to explore, so much baggage on both sides, such interesting tension.

Also I just love Michael and Sylvia, like, I think they’re so good for each other and I’m really glad they found each other. I think Michael really, really needed Sylvia’s hopefulness and goodness at that moment.

Also she and Stamets are the BEST GRUMPY SCIENCE BUDS.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I don’t think I have any! At least not that the sensible corners of fandom that acknowledge her greatness would consider unpopular. (Oh wait you know what this only just barely counts but I don’t really like the Alice books and I wish they’d picked something else, even though I can see why they went with that because it works so well with the overarching themes and motifs.)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I would like to see more about her relationship with Amanda. Also I think she should get to be at the centre of a fun shenanigans episode. S1 was a really tough time for her and I’d like to see her get the chance to relax a bit.

[ussjellyfish]

it’s WIP monday!

(yes, that’s not a thing, I don’t care I have ice cream, so uh, it’s a thing now)

I have 4 WIPs and I am going to talk about them, there shall be snippets. Feel free to do the same. Seven sentences from arbitrary places in my WIPs. (I used multiples of seven, I <3 math)

Tagging... @raptorwhisperer, @radioactive-violet @saxgoddess25 @onceuponahappytime @preux-chevalier @meanderings0ul @admiralkatcornwellfan @rikerssexblouse @reflectingiridescent @holdouttrout

if you feel like it. :)

Agents of SHIELD -

from working title “they have sex when May has a concussion, which comes after ‘stay’”

Melinda doesn't fight, doesn't even complain; she just sighs, leaning her head on his shoulder when he lifts her into his arms.  

"Now you want to be sweet," she mutters into his neck.

"Sorry." He turns back to Piper, smiling while her eyes go wide. "Thanks again."

"Yeah, don't mention it. We've got this.” She might have said something else, something like ‘that answers Davis’ question’. Maybe it was more like ‘about time’. He can’t be sure.

Agents of SHIELD - from “hold to the now, the here”

"I'm cold."

He could just pass her the blanket, or climb out of his bunk and make sure she's tucked it right.

Phil chuckles. "I can help with that."

The train whispers to the night, thudding like a heartbeat beneath them. He slips across the little compartment and climbs into her bunk. She rolls on her side, making space for him and he curls his body into hers, sandwiching her between him and the wall. This time, she allows him to guard the door.

Discovery - (from Incarnadine)

"She's not wearing a bra under that."

Kat smirks over her drink, watching her gaze run lovingly over Philippa Georgiou in a floaty green dress. "And you're an expert?"

"On how dresses look over bras, of course, I am. Yours is Starfleet issue. You only brought two and they're both practical." Afsaneh pries her eyes from Philippa with effort, staring at Kat's breasts. "Do you want me to tell you what size?"

Discovery - (from Philippa guards Kat, so of course that means they’re fake married on a resort planet)

She walks out of the pool, naked in the light of the three moons. The light clings to her skin like the water, turning her ethereal. Philippa squeezes her wet hair, then reaches for Kat, smiling wickedly. “It’s a very nice night, dear.”

No one can hear them. This is their private pool, attached to their private cabin. Unless they’re being watched, there’s no point in keeping up the charade that they’re married, and yet. 

[reflectingiridescent]

can I please have Philippa/Afsaneh and 19?

For luck? For sure! ;)

*Using xīnài (心爱…like, “beloved” or something) as a term of endearment here because I can. And like maybe I should be using a Cantonese term instead, but WHATEVER. I heard it in a song, and it sounded nice.

——-

“I can do that for you.”

Philippa turns around, the tangle of her bra hanging between her shoulders. “Did I hear you correctly? You usually want to take this off.”

Philippa’s half dressed - just the top of her uniform left to go - and Afsaneh is not dressed at all. Afsaneh has this thing where she likes to hold the sheets artfully over herself even though they’ve been seeing each other naked for years. It’s silly, but Philippa won’t deny that it’s attractive. “I’m being helpful, then,” yawns Afsaneh. It’s earlier than usual for both of them, but today is important. “I want to be helpful now.”

It’s a bit strange, having someone else hook the garment onto her, but Afsaneh is right. It is helpful, and the gesture is nice. “You didn’t need to come. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy you did,” Philippa says, swinging her jacket on in one fluid motion. “But it’s just the commander’s exam. You did it. I’ll do it. I’ll pass it. It’ll be fine.”

Afsaneh flops back into bed, pulling the sheets back over herself. She also arranges her hair to fan out nicely over the pillows, and Philippa laughs. “What?”

She zips up her jacket and checks her hair for any loose strands that need to be pinned back. “You’re a work of art, Afsaneh.” Her hair’s fine. “Also, if you really want to see me, you should save your leave for when we can actually do something more fun than me working and you…not.”

“You sound like your grandmother.”

“She’s a wise woman.”

Afsaneh yawns again and stretches. “Look, any time spent with you is good time, and I’m not saying you’ll need it, but if you walk out of there and need to talk to someone who’s not your overworked ship’s counselor, I’m here. And if you don’t, I’ll also be here willing to eat the meal of your choice with you.”

Philippa’s not nervous. She’s really not. This is one of those things that’s scary if you look at it as an individual, but Philippa chooses to look at herself as more of a part of a whole, the latest in a line of Starfleet personnel who have to take such a test, and they passed, so it’s reasonable to figure that someone as apt as she would be able to as well. She sits down on the edge of the bed, and Afsaneh’s off-duty and feeling muselike, so she sits up and drapes herself over Philippa, curves and hair waves and sheet and all. “Should I have done this for you - been there, when you took the test?”

“Maybe, but my head was up my ass when I took the test, and you were on a deep space mission.”

Philippa rolls her eyes. “Okay, but for the record? Having you in my bed has never been the most focusing of activities.”

And gods help them both, Afsaneh bounces back into bed, everything bouncing with her. “Oh, xīnài, I beg to differ.”

“Wicked woman.”

“I wear the title proudly.” Afsaneh stretches out an arm. “Now kiss me before you go off into battle.”

She’s already wearing her shoes, so it’s a bit of a humorous maneuver, keeping her feet off the bed, but she manages to grab her girlfriend. “You think I need luck.” She tsks and kisses her anyway.

“It doesn’t hurt to have it,” Afsaneh smiles.

[mia-cooper]

Gabe/Kat, 27?

27 ... as a suggestion

Thank you, @reflectingiridescent, I went Academy AU with this one and threw in a bit of Philippa/Afsaneh just for you, lol. It turned out a bit longer than planned.

Open to Suggestion

Philippa perches on the kitchen counter swinging her legs, her metal-heeled boots thudding loudly against the lower cupboards. Katrina has long since given up asking her not to do that. With Pippa, one learns to pick one’s battles.

“So is he staying?” Pippa asks.

“Who, Gabriel?” Kat shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Almost everyone’s gone home,” Pippa points out. “And I don’t think he’s sticking around for tea and conversation with Affie.”

Kat glances through the open door and into the living room. It’s trashed, littered with empty bottles and glasses, and there’s a blue haze in the air. Only two people remain: Afsaneh, stretched out on the couch draped in a richly coloured silk sarong, and Gabriel, sprawled across the floor rug, jeans riding low on his hips and a half-empty whiskey glass balanced on his stomach.

She shrugs again. “He can stay if he wants to. Probably too drunk to make it home anyway.”

“I only ask,” Pippa twists to reach for a fresh bottle in the cupboard behind her, “because if he’s staying I won’t have to ask Affie to keep the noise down. Since you won’t be sleeping anyway.” She rolls her hips suggestively, smirking.

Kat refuses to blush. “What makes you think he’ll be sleeping with me?”

Philippa leans in and whispers, “Just who exactly do you think you’re fooling, Kat?”

She tips her head back and empties a good three fingers of scotch down her throat, then tucks Katrina’s arm under her elbow.

“Come on, Cornwell. Let’s get you laid.”

“Pip, shut up,” Katrina hisses, but Pippa only laughs.

-----

Katrina’s gaze slides over to Gabriel again. His shirt has ridden up and she can’t stop staring at his quilted abdominal muscles. She wonders how many crunches he does in a day. Does he climb the salmon ladder? Maybe she could sneak into the gym someday and watch –

“Kat, you with us?” Afsaneh’s amused, smoky tones jerk Katrina back from her daydream.

“What?” she defends, hunching her shoulders at the knowing smile Affie and Pippa exchange.

“We were just talking about kicking a bit of life into this party,” Pippa says in a sly tone Katrina does not trust one bit.

“I’m not playing strip poker,” Kat says flatly.

“Killjoy.” Philippa hooks an arm around Afsaneh’s neck and nuzzles into her cheek.

From his supine position, Gabriel chuckles.

“Do you have a suggestion, Cadet Lorca?” Affie drawls.

Gabriel props himself up on his elbows and levels his gaze directly at Katrina. “I have a few,” he smirks. “Depends if you object to the stripping or the poker.”

Kat refuses to look away despite the colour she knows is burning on her cheeks. Gabriel’s grin widens.

From the corner of her eye, Katrina notices Affie and Pip exchanging another look. As one, they get to their feet.

“Tired,” Philippa announces to the room at large. “Off to bed ‘Night.”

“’Night,” replies Gabriel. “Thanks for the party.”

With their departure the living room descends into silence, and Katrina picks nervously at a loose thread on the rug. Then Gabriel’s hand closes over hers, stilling her movements.

“Kat,” he says, “do you want me to go?”

“No,” she says quickly. “I mean, you don’t have to. On my account. Unless you want to.”

Gabriel sits up, propping his back against the couch behind them. His shoulder brushes hers, and he’s still holding her hand, and she can feel his breath on her cheek.

“I’d like to stay.”

Katrina swallows and forces herself to meet his eyes.

“Then stay.”

-----

If he doesn’t kiss her soon, Katrina thinks, she might actually explode.

She thought he was going to make a move when she asked him to stay, but instead he gave her that slow grin and offered her the whiskey bottle. They’ve been passing it between them for ten minutes now, talking about nothing, and she can’t tell if this is his way of prolonging the tension or if – just maybe – he’s nervous, too.

Maybe he’s debating whether giving into this thing between them is such a smart move. She’s had the same argument with herself more than once, after all.

But he still has hold of her hand, and each time she swigs from the bottle’s neck she can feel him watching her, his gaze on the line of her throat, and lower. She wonders if he’s thinking about kissing her there, and shivers involuntarily.

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” she lies, hoping he’ll take the opportunity to put his arm around her.

He does, shifting closer and tugging her against his side. “Better?”

“Mm-hmm,” she answers, turning her face into the hollow of his neck. His pulse leaps under her lips. What would he do, she wonders, if she kissed him there?

“Kat?” Gabriel’s hand shifts from her shoulder to her hip.

“Yeah?” she mumbles into his neck, and it’s his turn to shiver.

“I have a suggestion.”

“About the stripping or the poker?”

His hand slides under her sweater, palm warm on her belly. “What do you think?”

I think to hell with the slow burn already, Katrina decides, and in one move she straddles his lap and pulls his hand higher under her sweater. Gabriel cups her breast and looks up into her face, his thumb rubbing experimentally across her nipple. He’s smiling, but it’s not the sly grin she’s used to. His eyes are soft, his face open.

“You know what I think?” Katrina’s voice is uneven. “I think you talk too much.”

“Then might I suggest,” Gabriel’s gaze drops to her parted lips, “shutting me up?”

So she leans down to kiss him, delighted to discover that Gabriel can communicate his intentions every bit as clearly when he isn’t talking.

[caressyouintodarkness]

Philippa Georgiou for the character asks please? Your blog is fantastic by the way 😄

Thank you so much for the ask and for the kind words! *blushes*Headcanon A:  realistic

Everyone in Starfleet thinks Philippa only drinks tea and lives a very healthy lifestyle, but she loves extravagant lattes with syrups and whipped cream on top, and she enjoys taking her time in the morning to treat herself with one when she knows she will have a particularly hard day ahead. She will get her cinnamon/vanilla/pumpkin spice latte, sit down on her couch and look out at the stars, contemplating her day. (Kat and Gabe caught her once and they were sworn to secrecy. Kat thought it was ridiculous to keep something like this a secret, and right afterwards Gabe made fun of these types of lattes, so Georgiou just raised an eyebrow and Kat and gesticulated towards Gabe - You see why I don’t want people to know? Gabriel wanted to know what’s so special about these lattes anyway, so she tried what Pippa had... and this, my friends, is exactly how the Gabriel-drinks-his-coffee-with-about-a-ton-of-sugar era started, because Dammit Pippa this is amazing Kat you need to try this.)

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Philippa is a lightweight and she enjoys parties a lot (hey, she is wise but she clearly enjoys fun), but she gets tipsy very easily and is the absolute most adorable drunk person. She giggles, she has trouble finding the words and instead does an entire baroque description to define everyday objects because Chair is just a very complicated word okay, who came up with it anyway and then she would probably even ramble on, and say oh wait, actually, I read about the etymology somewhere... and she is an irresistible, brutally honest, adorable mess, and she loves it, loves letting her hair down for a bit. She is the type of drunk that could get Katrina to dance on tables with her at that one party during the Academy.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Philippa always thought she’d eventually have children. She fantasised about a family with Katrina, and afterwards with Afsaneh. There was just never a right time. As time passed, she started feeling more and more like her crew were her family, and she accepted this situation - except for the occasional dream where she would hear tiny children running towards her, with their feet going click click click on the floor. She has never told anyone about these dreams, though, but Afsaneh and her have discussed adopting shortly before the war started.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Philippa and Katrina were together during the Academy - or rather not-together, but they were in a type of relationship that entailed being very close, sharing secrets, studying together, and occasionally sleeping together.Ps. I am still finishing up these asks, I am sorry but I just packed my life up in one country and moved to another and the last week has been pretty hectic!

[queenofsection31-blog]

Scars - Paris & Georgiou

@currentlycaptainparis from HERE

Afsaneh rolled up her left sleeve to reveal a thin scar on her forearm. It had healed many years ago, but its jagged appearance made it stand out even now. “I got it in ‘27 or ‘28. I was on an away mission, surveying a canyon when there was a rockslide. The canyon had bad reception and I only had minor injuries. So I hiked up to get a transmission out.

I made the hike just fine, so I was feeling pretty confident. And I guess at that point I wasn’t being careful. I was pacing around when I fell. Thankfully I only slid down about ten meters, but it was enough to cut my arm since I was trying to stop myself. Everything turned out fine, but the cut was deep enough to leave a scar when it healed.”

“I have one like that too,” Philippa said with a bright smile as she propped her chin on one hand after taking a drink from her beer. It wasn’t her favorite thing to drink, but the bar on Starbase IV wasn’t exactly a classy place. It was filled with young officers and enlisted. The top brass was at the Officers’ Club, which she wasn’t high enough rank yet to rub elbows with, but she would be someday.

“I was testing a new in fighter, and something went wrong. I had to wrestle the thing all the way back to the Farragut, because I didn’t want to eject. I know it was stupid, but I was a cocky kid back then.” Instead of the bright and thoughtful commander she was now. “Somehow I managed the get the beast into the hanger. Wasn’t the best landing, but I didn’t damage it or the Farragut much.”

Another drink of the beer, and her shoulders started to shake as she went on to finish the story. “I hopped out of the cockpit. Made my way down the ladder, peeled off my flight suit, and then tripped on the landing net. Broke my ankle!”

[rikerssexblouse]

Rules: list the first lines of your last 10 published stories. See if there are any patterns yourself, or have other people say what they notice. Tag up to 10 friends!

I was tagged by @pixiedane! I think this is such a fun concept, and have no idea quite how it’s going to turn out. We’ll see what happens. 

1) “We need to talk.” Her tone left no room for discussion, but it didn’t seem to work on Afsaneh. Her old friend brushed past her, holographic form turning away to move behind the faint, translucent outline of a desk.

Won’t do no good to hold no seance. Katrina/Philippa and Afsaneh/Philippa, Star Trek: Discovery. 

2) Paris grinned at her and took another step closer. "It's not a 'sentiment,' it's the truth. You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, Mrs. Troi. Inside and out."

Young People Are So Enthusiastic. Tom Paris/Lwaxana Troi, Star Trek Voyager/TNG. 

3) “So, how is Arjun?”

The restaurant was elegant, lavishly adorned, and private, not unlike the woman seated across the table.

The Friends We Choose to Keep. Chrisjen Avasarala/Michael Iturbi, The Expanse.

4) “I didn’t know there were actually places that looked like this.”

They stood together on the beach, bare feet planted in warm sand. Philippa reached out for her hand, and Afsaneh let herself be led to edge of the water. The water was crystal clear, the color a soft sea green near the edge, transforming into a bright, vibrant blue on the horizon. The beach was perfectly white and smooth. In the distance, tiny islands dotted the wide expanse of blue.

Tomorrow. Philippa/Afsaneh, Star Trek: Discovery. 

5) B’Elanna had been fiddling unsuccessfully with some components from Rain’s vehicle for the better part of half an hour. Stupid primitive technology. At this rate, they were never going to be able to contact Voyager, and she found herself cursing Janeway’s decision to send her down to the planet for about the upteenth time. What in the galaxy had the captain been thinking? Sending a Vulcan and a half-Klingon down to 1990s Los Angeles? That petaq is out of her mind. B’Elanna wiped her brow carefully and pulled the baseball cap back down over her forehead.

Sunshine. B’Elanna Torres/Rain Robinson, Star Trek: Voyager. 

6) Philippa was laying with her head pillowed on Afsaneh’s breasts when the other woman brought it up. They’d only been together a few months and the two were enjoying a rare, free afternoon without class. She knew her roommate was out of town, so she’d invited Afsaneh over and the two had quickly taken advantage of the privacy. Philippa was still feeling pleasantly warm and tingly, and even though they were both a bit sweaty, she didn’t want to move out of Afsaneh’s arms. Afsaneh’s voice was unusually hesitant when she spoke.

“Have you ever… been um, penetrated?”

Nothing to Be Shy About. Philippa/Afsaneh, Star Trek: Discovery. 

7) “Tell Boyko if he doesn’t agree to change his vote on the resolution before tomorrow, that we will cancel all his dilithium mining contracts on Dozaria.”

“But, Mistress,” her husband’s aide pressed, “the last time you -- I mean, the last time the Senator -- threatened Boyko, he got angry. I had to spend weeks in the regenerator… ”

Afsaneh fought the impulse to roll her eyes. “Why the fuck do you think I’m not going myself? If you don’t like it, you can join Romano in the agonizer.”

Pure fear passed over the aide’s face for just a moment before he could pull himself together. “Of course. Yes, ma’am. Consider it done.”

Taking. Mirror Philippa Georgiou/Mirror Afsaneh Paris, Star Trek: Discovery. 

8) The first thing she hears is her voice.

Katrina’s brain is still fuzzy; no matter how much she tries to focus, she can’t make out the words. But she’d recognize that voice anywhere. For a brief moment, she flashes back to their Academy dorm, and Afsaneh is trying to get her out of bed. But even in her current state, she knows that isn't real. That was many years, and many light-years, away from where they are now.

Nothing Wrong When A Song Ends In a Minor Key. Katrina Cornwell/Gabriel Lorca and Philippa/Afsaneh, Star Trek: Discovery. 

9) She pushed through the crowd, jostling past the slew of ensigns and lieutenants leaving the transporter pads in subdued clusters of five and six. The main transporter room at Starfleet Command was more packed than usual as the crew of the Venture disembarked, but oddly quiet, the events of the past two days obviously weighing heavily on everyone’s minds. Katrina had to squeeze her small frame between people to gain any ground.

Still Dancing. Katrina/Philippa, Star Trek: Discovery. 

10) It was the third time in as many days that Cadet Sylvia Tilly had broached the topic of a certain tall handsome lieutenant with Michael. “So, are you and Tyler going to go on another date, or what?”

Matchmaker. Michael Burnham/Sylvia Tilly, Star Trek: Discovery. 

tagging all the people I can find that haven’t been tagged yet: @captacorn, @cosmic-llin, @devoverest, @alphaflyer, @musicin68, @angelicsharonraydor, @gracieminabox, @gracelockheart, @antivanruffles, @cheile 

[ussjellyfish]

hide your fires | Paris/Georgiou, & Burnham | DSC | Mature

for the darling @reflectingiridescent during round 20 of @trek-rarepair-swap! You get mirror Philippa Georgiou/Afsaneh Paris and a little bit of Michael and her rather awkward sort of step-mothers. It might be set in the same universe as Incarnadine (so is), but you don’t need that to appreciate this. 

Hope you like it!

Philippa’s bored, and a little lonely, so she breaks into Afsaneh’s quarters with dinner. It ends up being far more dangerous than she ever thought possible. 

"Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.”  - Macbeth

also on ao3"

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.”  

 Starfleet security, even for their fancy space stations, is predictably laughable. Her ID is barely checked when she arrives in spacedock. She's given barely any instructions for beaming down. Her fancy new Section 31 ID is barely glanced at as she passes through the docking rim. This Federation was just at war and yet she could take the space station with a starship and a few torpedoes. The Charon could have taken over the whole United Federation of Planets.

That's not really the point, but it gives her something to think about while she waits. Even here, on Afsaneh's precious station, her apartment is simple to break into. Her security code is the same, some of the art is the same, but the Betazoid painting on the wall catches her interest. Her Afsaneh only collected Terran art, mostly Persian style, repeated patterns, reflections.

This is different. So colorful.

Like the rest of this damn universe. Everything's bright, cheerful and soft. Phillipa had to change her outfits just to fit in as she traveled through these strange places. Earth is by far the strangest. Unlike her jewel of the Empire, this Earth is swarming with aliens. Vulcans live in Paris, Tellarites in Russia, and Andorians love Antarctica. She heard whispers of them building a new Betazoid embassy in Colombia. Luckily, it's easy to blend in, wrap up her leather in a bright scarf.

Smile. Be nice, calm, and carefree.

It's almost painful.

Afsaneh, of course, is late to return to her quarters, buried in work. There's no Imperial Senate for her to sway, or politicians for her to threaten. She's probably trapped doing something tedious, health inspections, cultural responsiveness... Is it as rewarding, keeping this Federation safe from itself while it bumbles through, crippled by its ideals?

Setting her badge down near the door, Afsaneh unzips her uniform jacket and sighs, leaving it on the sofa. That little scar on her arm is different. Perhaps from her time in one of their little wars. She walks towards the kitchen, PADD in hand. Barely aware of her surroundings, as she reads her PADD, and not even the candles on the table make her look up.

"It's a very good thing I'm not an assassin."

"If you were, I wouldn't need to make sense of this security report."

Philippa takes the PADD from her hands, tossing it to the sofa with her jacket. "Why bother with security at all when your Federation is the most insecure mockery of a functioning government I've ever seen and the Mintakans will probably conquer you."

"They haven't discovered iron."

"When they do, you're undefended so look out."

Afsaneh chuckles, actually smiles and rolls her neck left to right to smooth out the tension. "You know, you can tell me when you're coming."

"That takes the fun out of it."

"Life without an empire's pretty dull, isn't it?"

"It's interesting to be no one. Philippa Georgiou is dead, officially, unofficially I happen to look a lot like her and other than adoring children who've watched too many comm news reports from the war and have a hero, I slip through your universe perfectly unnoticed."

"Don't hurt any of my ships."

"I didn't hurt any of your little ships."

"Or make me send Michael after you." Sitting down at the table in her black tank, Afsaneh reaches for her hair, pulling it down from the bun. She sighs again, leaning over the table. "Where did you find char kway teow ?" Her pronunciation is a little off, but she tries. Her Afsaneh's was always perfect, but Philippa had more time to teach her how to use her mouth properly. This version might require a few lessons.

"I visited Earth, your perfect paradise of peace and safety."

Afsaneh starts serving herself, starving as always. "And stole spices and vegetables? How terrifying you are, Emperor."

Rolling her eyes, Philippa pours the wine. "I wanted to see my home."

"It's beautiful."

"There were aliens on the beaches."

"Pulau Langkwai is a popular tourist destination."

"I sat on the cable car with a school group of Betazoid children who couldn't keep their thoughts out of mine."

"They're learning." Afsaneh takes a sip of her wine and grins, her lips far darker and more dangerous than the wine. "How did you keep from scaring them to death?"

Now she's the one who needs wine. Thinking of two people makes her thoughts calm enough to pass in this universe: Michael and Afsaneh. She lets the wine warm her belly, and looks down before she answers. "I thought of Michael when she was their age, and you, raising your children."

"How many do I have?"

Philippa sets down her chopsticks, meeting Afsaneh's dark eyes. "There were three, one died in an attempt on your life, one served me faithfully until her death in combat and the last tried to kill you."

Blinking as she takes that in, Afsaneh lifts her glass in a mocking toast. "Here they're both alive and neither has tried to kill me, yet, I suppose, though I doubt it."

There they are, on the holo sitting on the bookshelf. The father is a different man, not the one Afsaneh's mother chose for her, but someone she would have married for love. Though his absence from Afsaneh's life now suggests that it faded.

"You were there, at their births, when I realised I carried them, even when we were both married, you have always been at the front of my heart."

"The other me."

"She's there, even though you try to be so cold and calcucating, I see her."

"That's impossible."

"I would have said that about good char kway teow on Starbase Nineteen, and you've already proved me wrong." Afsaneh takes another bite, smiling around her chopsticks. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to get my old lover back."

"Good." She returns to eating, less interested in the dead version of herself than the woman sitting across from her.

"But, I will admit I'm certainly intrigued by you."

"Oh?"

"Most people who want to see me again just leave a message, send me flowers."

"I could go steal some from the arboretum while you eat desert."

Afsaneh's eyes are so dark they could swallow stars and that smile is a light across universes. She knows it. She shouldn't. This is not her home, nor her lover, but she's a kindred creature, someone who understands her. Afsaneh knows who she is and has no fear, no hatred.

Only desire. She's intrigued when she licks her lips like that.

"We're out of wine," Afsaneh says, lifting the bottle. "Unless you brought more."

"We'll have to drink yours."

"Pity. I think you have more expensive taste."

Empty plates and empty glasses sit between them, taunting them. Do they stay here or do they engage in something they'll both regret? Will they even?

"You look at me like she did."

"I do?"

"It's the way your eyes shine, how you can't stop looking at my mouth." Afsaneh stands, resting her hands on the table. "It's really quite charming."

Philippa leaves her chair, circling the table until she can touch the bare skin of Afsaneh's arm. This universe thrives on emotion, connection, interdependence. She can't rule, she can't murder nearly as much as she'd like, and without Michael, she's alone.

Afsaneh's just as alone, even with her children and her ex-husband, and her starbase is so much easier to reach than one of Starfleet's favorite ships. Though, she'll have to cause some kind of trouble to see Michael soon. Just to make sure the unpalatable Kelpian has treated her well, and that she's happy.

Afsaneh tenses just a little, not to fight but with intrigue, leaning close to Philippa's neck. "How do you smell so good coming from a stolen Orion death trap?"

"Magic."

Reaching out to touch her hair, Afsaneh sighs. "You smell like her."

"We grew up in the same city, perhaps she smells like me."

"We went to Langkwai many times, my Philippa and I, and she showed me everything. We walked along the beaches, sat together in the surf. She used to stick flowers in her hair and we'd find them crushed in the bed in the morning." Afsaneh strokes for her hair, losing her reticence.

Philippa can't resist. "Does that mean you prefer to be on top?"

The gentle flush of pink across Afsaneh's face is so different from her Senator, her weapon, her master of intrigue.

"It's not a firm preference."

"Good."

Afsaneh chuckles, dropping her hands to her hips. "So that's why you're here?"

Running her fingers across Afsaneh's cheek, Philippa winks. "And dinner."

"Dinner seems to be finished." Afsaneh takes one step back towards the bedroom. "Unless you brought desert."

"I thought you might provide that."

That gets her. Afsaneh chuckles, then places a hand on her chest, her fingers warm through the leather. Philippa's heart does not respond to much, she's worn it down over the years, but now she's tantalized. She wants, and this version of her beloved she has never tasted, never known. Will she sound different at climax? Do her nails feel the same on her back?

"That's rather forward of you."

"I thought you'd appreciate a lack of bullshit."

"I like someone who knows what the fuck she wants."

"And if it's you?"

Afsaneh slides her fingers up to Philippa's neck, beaming. "Then we get along just as well as I thought we would."

"You're not afraid of being conquered?"

Afsaneh back further towards the bedroom, guiding her along. "Who says you're going to be doing the conquering?"

Philippa laughs, but her throat's tight with desire.  The teasing is fun, but she wants and the wordplay is only an appetizer. A taste... She presses a little and Afsaneh pushes back, shoving her against the wall. It's not the bedroom, but the hand on her stomach means it doesn't matter. Afsaneh strokes her chin, staring at her as if stripping her defenses with her eyes. When they kiss it's measured, calm, feeling each other out, tasting.

She tastes the same, and her lips have the same heat. There's none of the thrill of danger, the threat. This Afsaneh would never kill her, wouldn't even hurt her, and that hasn't been a trait in one of her lovers for more years than she wants to remember her way back.

The fear in the back of her throat is a new one, sharper than the wine or Afsaneh's lipstick. This doesn't have to hurt, won't end in death, and Afsaneh knows her.

Even loved her.

The other her might not have been tough enough to stay alive, but she risked things Philippa never has. Afsaneh nibbles her neck and her heart thuds. Maybe it's worth trying it, just this once. One night of vulnerability, a dalliance with the foreign concept of trust. She hasn't had enough to drink for that. There might not be enough wine on the station for that.

"Wonder where this goes." Afsaneh strokes the zipper on the front of her leather jacket. "Another corset?"

"I knew I was visiting you."

She pouts, and the purr in her throat is obscene. "And I only have my uniform."

"I think you wear it best."

"Not Kat, or Ensign Killy?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you."

Afsaneh nips at her shoulder, peeing leather from her arm as the jacket slips off. "I thought it might make you feel more at home."

"Would you really like to know what the other you did to my lovers that she disapproved of?"

"I can imagine that, but I'd rather imagine other things she might have been good at." Afsaneh runs her thumb over her breasts, devouring the corset with her eyes. "Or did you hold her down?"

"Only when she asked me too." When Afsaneh begged, she was so much fun. That was all a game, ploys and counter ploys, teasing and pushing boundaries to see how long they could trust each other, even they even could. This is exploration, feeling out the stars, and that is part of the other her, the ghost who smiled with her heart naked.

Afsaneh kisses her again, then steps back, pulling her tank over her head. That bra is definitely not Starfleet, it's too blue, too lacey, but the view it provides could rival sights from her former empire.

"I thought you might like that." Now Afsaneh turns, walking into the bedroom. "Computer, lights to four." It's hardly candle light, or the rare glowing crystals of Aenar, but in any light, watching Afsaneh step out of her trousers is a beautiful sight.

Turning to face her, arms crossed beneath her incredible breasts, Afsaneh smiles again. "Are you waiting for a formal invitation or a sign of weakness?"

"Are you trying to decide which I'd prefer?"

"I'm trying to decide if I want to rip the laces on that thing or undo it slowly." She stalks forward, wrapping her arms around Philippa's neck. "Though I like you staring at me."

"Good."

"Leather suits you." She takes another kiss, fitting their mouths together with more hunger. This time her tongue's insistent, forceful, and Philippa gasps. Her corset is too tight to breath in. That's why she's a little lightheaded, must be. "But I want it gone."

Chuckling, Philippa allows her to removes her trousers, and in that shuffle they fall to the bed, lying tangled on top of sheets too smooth to be Federation. "You do like expensive things."

"These?" Afsaneh props herself up on an elbow, eyes bright. "I might have gotten them as a gift, from a very charming trader that happened to be oh-so-terrible with her paperwork."

Her little indiscretions, tiny breaches in protocol, make her so much more intriguing. She's bent the rules for years within her Starfleet bonds, not for personal gain, or ambition, it seems that Afsaneh Paris wants to have a little fun with her life.

Philippa surrenders to another kiss, leaning down over her until Afsaneh flips them, using her legs to place Philippa on her back. She straddles her hips, beaming down. "Letting your power go to your head?"

"Only when it gets me something I want."

Her Afsaneh would tear the corset off with a knife, maybe nick her skin just to remind her that she was not to be trifled with. This one takes her time, letting her hair fall over her shoulders, heavy like her breasts. She's beautiful, dark and and teasing, profoundly unafraid.

Unlike the knife's edge she expects at her throat, there's no sting in her eyes, or her hands, only warmth and unfettered desire.

"Take it off."

Philippa reaches for her corset, but Afsaneh shakes her head.

"My bra. You can't stop staring at it."

"I love that this was beneath your uniform all day and you didn't know I was coming."

Afsaneh trails her hand down Philippa's chest, then grabs the corset right between her breasts, dragging her up to kiss her. "Who says I didn't know?"

She has too many questions, but Afsaneh kisses her again, taking her chance to demand answers. Her fingers find the laces of her corset, untying that with skill not out of place in her universe. Perhaps her fingers are just always nimble. Removing her bra is simple in comparison, it snaps free and gently, Philippa eases it off of her breasts. Teasing her nipples distracts Afsaneh enough for her to fumble.

"Naughty."

Afsaneh runs her teeth along her neck and before she can concentrate again, her corset's off, hitting the floor beside that delicate blue bra. Afsaneh sucks her breasts, rubbing her fingers across her panties, taunting, teasing, and the fabric's out of place, they should be naked, she should be able to taste her.

"Let me," Afsaneh insists. "Let me." She stands, removing her own panties. She pauses for a moment, golden and beautiful in the weak light. She doesn't have Afsaneh's scars, and that one on her ribs is new. The little silver lines on her stomach speak of her children. She eases the last shred of clothing down, then bends, pulling them from Philippa's knees to her feet with her teeth. "I used to love doing that at the Academy."

They had years of this, warm, comfortable, playful sex, without consequences or fear. When Afsaneh kneels again, this time between her thighs, it's the most terrifying moment of her second life. There's no pretence, no knife under the pillow, just an incredibly beautiful woman and a whole night of pleasure.

"Trust me," Afsaneh asks her, hands on her knees. "I'm very good at this." She leaves the rest of that dark lipstick on Philippa's inner thighs, kissing her way down while fire melts her body down to molten metal that Afsaneh works like a blacksmith, building, molding, taunting her towards orgasm. She digs her fingers into her back, into her hair, then the too-smooth sheets of the bed.

Breath comes fast, than it seems like she can hardly find it at all. She never allows this, even when her slaves are absolutely loyal, but Afsaneh tastes her, traunting, and sends her flying. Heat blooms in the back of her skull like a flash grenade until it blinds her. Afsaneh holds her, kissing her while her orgasm breaks her control. Maybe she already lost it, already surrendered too far.

Her eye sting and Afsaneh brushes her tears away before they kiss again and she tastes herself. How long has that been? Will Afsaneh tastes the same as she remembers or is that also different here? The whole multiverse could collapse into Afsaneh's lips against hers and she wouldn't complain. She might not even notice.

Exploring her with her hands, she teases that place on her hip that makes Afsaneh moan, and taunts her with her fingers higher on her thighs, then hr breath, hot against her skin. Tasting her takes Philippa back to the other world, but the way this Afsaneh cries out is different.

Free.

She doesn't fear her the way her Afsaneh always did. There's no hint of performance, no Emperor to please. Only pleasure and naked skin, sweat and longing. Philippa takes her time, licking without hurry or real intent because she could listen to Afsaneh's breathing go ragged until the stars go nova. The hand in her hair makes her suck, rub her teeth against her clit and that whimper sends a rush of heat down her own spine.

Orgasm shudders through her, making her back arch like a temple of a sacred city. Afsaneh has no tears, only breathy laughter.

"Who knew you were so gentle."

Philippa strea at her, cups her cheek. She kisses her forehead, then her cheekbone. "I've never been before."

Afsaneh's hand tightens on her back, but that's her only sign of surprise. "It's not bad, is it? This soft universe."

Kissing her until she can barely breathe, Philippa falls to bed beside her, trembling. "It's terrifying."

"When I was young, and foolish, you told me that as beautiful as the stars were overhead, it was the blackness that intrigued you. Between all those little lights was the void, and it went on forever. That was the unknown, and that was why you joined Starfleet, to discover more of that darkness, to find more light." Afsaneh strokes her hair, toying with the wall it falls on Philippa's breast. "You laughed at me because I was a city girl who joined to get away from my parents and do something with my life other than keep up traditions or stuffy old rituals. I never enjoyed the dark, not until you made it beautiful."

Philippa blinks again, shutting her eyes before they betray her. "That wasn't me."

"The way you smiled between my thighs, it might be."

 A three day refit of the navigational deflection would be frustrating, but Starbase Nineteen is the closest base, and she hasn't seen Afsaneh since the incident with Philippa, and she's the first person Michael wants to tlak to when shore leave is allowed. Captain Paris has the day off, and the computer says she's in her quarters. It's late enough in the morning to stop by, it's well after eleven hundred, and Captain Paris did remind her that they were family.

Family doesn't need an invitation. It's a very human rule, Vulcans would be very civilized in their visits, but the captain- Afsaneh- is as lonely as Michael, and losing Philippa took something from her that can't be replaced, even with another Philippa who has been a little more lucky with death.

She rings the door chime, confident for nearly a minute before doubt sets itn. She should have sent a message, arranged to have lunch. It's too awkward to just arrive at her quarters. She starts to go, she'll forget about this and maybe try for diner, and the door opens. Afsaneh's hair lies in waves on her shoulders, tumbled and mussed, and her lips are pink but her face is free of makeup. That make on her neck is very familiarly, and Michael could be back on that beach, suddenly aware that her captain's very good friend was more than a friend.

A very beautiful, distracting not-friend, almost a step-mother, in a way.

"Michael! What a lovely surprise, come in, we're just having breakfast."

We?

And there she is, sitting in Afsaneh's purple robe, her hair just as wild with marks on her own on her bare shoulders. There's no Imperial aura to her at all, and that flush of embarrassment wouldn't even have happened to her Philippa.

Her Philippa was shameless with Afsaneh.

Afsaneh touches that bare shoulder and then fixed Philippa's robe. "We have a guest, dear."

"What a nice surprise." That wistfulness passes over Philippa's face and she doesn't slam it down behind her mask. She lets it stay. "It's good to see you."

"And you. It seems like you're staying out of trouble."

"Well see," Afsaneh says, grinning over a croissant. "She might have earned some kind of punishment by tonight."

Michael's face burns like a solar flare and Philippa's cheeks flash pink.

"Only if she's very very lucky."

[rikerssexblouse]

Thanks for the kiss prompt! Awhile ago you gave me the option to choose my own adventure fir a prompt response, so since I don't know which other ships you've been asked about I'm returning the favour. Can I please have a kiss for 17, 22 and 38 to the ship/s of your choice? ❤️

Thanks so much! There are three of them and they got longish, so they are under the cut. But here are some quick summaries for everyone scrolling through their dash. :)

17. … to distract. Gaspard distracts a grumpy, pregnant Afsaneh.

22. … in a rush of adrenaline. Kat and Pippa make a narrow escape from danger. 

38. … because they’re running out of time. Owen and Kathryn take advantage of their limited time before they return to Earth. 

17. … to distract. 

Afsaneh groaned, flipping over from her right hip to her left hip for what felt like the hundredth time that night. She pulled the sheets back over her shoulders and tried to get comfortable.

She wasn’t successful.

Giving up, she sat up and thought idly about walking around for a bit, but that didn’t sound much more appealing. All she wanted was a good night of sleep. No sore joints.  No waking up seven times to pee. No one kicking her in the spleen. It didn’t seem like too much to ask.

Next to her, Gaspard stirred.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay.” He pushed sandy hair back off his forehead and rubbed his eyes. “How are you feeling? Do you need an analgesic?”

“I’m fine,” she sighed. “No pain. Just really missing sleeping on my back right now.”

Gaspard reached for her and she laid back down, facing him.  He kissed her gently on the nose and his hands caressed her belly, and she smiled despite herself. “How’s our little one?” Gaspard asked. “Is he awake too?”

Afsaneh shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She placed her hands over Gaspard’s and they both stared down at her belly for a long, quiet moment.

“It’s hard to believe that in just one more month, we’ll have a baby,” he whispered in awe.

Afsaneh smiled. “I’m just glad that in another month, I won’t be the only one he keeps up at night.”

Gaspard chuckled softly and leaned in close, curling around Afsaneh and burying his face in her neck. He kissed her collarbone. “So misery loves company, huh?”

Afsaneh chuckled, “Mmm, pretty much,” then she gasped in surprise. “I guess he is awake.” She took Gaspard’s hand and pressed it to her belly where she’d felt the kick. They didn’t feel anything at first, then it was back, a flutter in Afsaneh’s abdomen, a soft pressure against Gaspard’s hand.

He grinned. “He’s strong, like his Momma.”

22. … in a rush of adrenaline. 

“Just hold on!“

Katrina thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest. Lieutenant Commander Philippa Georgiou was at the helm of the small shuttle, navigating through the asteroid field as quickly as she could. An ion storm was moving towards them fast. Usually, it wouldn’t have been a problem to outrun, but the dense asteroid field was slowing them down considerably.

“Bear with me, Commander, we’re nearly there… “

Then Philippa threw the ship into a roll and Katrina felt her stomach revolting. Just because the inertial dampers kept the gravitational forces from completely crushing them, didn’t mean it could do anything to prevent the sight of the asteroids and starfield spinning wildly in front of her from making her nauseous.

Katrina swallowed and tried to breathe evenly. She rechecked the progress of the ion storm. Fuck. “We’ve got thirty seconds max before it catches–” Before she could finish, Philippa whooped and Katrina looked around, realizing suddenly that the field in front of them was completely clear. “Get us out of here!” she cried.

It only took a second before the shuttle jumped to warp, but it felt infinite, up until the moment it was over. The starfield elongated until the pinpoints turned into lines streaking past the viewscreen and Katrina finally let herself breathe.

“Fuck, Pippa. Fuck,” Katrina muttered.

Philippa laughed giddily as she unbuckled herself from the seat. “Why am I laughing, Kat? We could have died.”

Katrina was still catching her breath. “It’s a stress response. You will probably start feeling more normal soon.” She unbuckled herself as well, slowly standing on shaky legs. Then Philippa was rushing towards her. The other woman pulled her into a tight hug and it took all the balance and strength Katrina had to keep the two of them from toppling over.

“We’re alive,” Philippa whispered into Katrina’s neck. “You’re alive,” she added as she pulled back. She laughed again, hands finding Katrina’s face. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Katrina felt something shift between them.

“Pippa… “ she whispered.

Then Philippa’s lips were on hers and they didn’t break apart until both were completely breathless.

38. … because they’re running out of time. 

The Al-Batani was due to arrive over Earth in eight hours.

Owen Paris awoke at his usual time, leaving Kathryn in bed while he took a shower. When he tried to think about what returning to Earth meant, he would get overwhelmed, so he’d stopped thinking about it. He was going to get ready for his day, make sure his ship got where it was going safely, and the rest would have to wait.

He was rolling his neck, hands pressed against the wall, enjoying the pressure of the sonic pulses against his shoulders, when the door to the sonic shower opened. He spun around, to find Kathryn in the doorway.

“You’re getting a call on your terminal.”

Owen blinked. “Who is it from?”

“I didn’t look. I just thought you should know.”

In his heart, Owen knew it was probably his wife. And he didn’t want to answer it. Guilt burned in his belly. You are in the middle of a shower, you never would have answered it anyway, he told himself, and it made him feel slightly better. It made the decision easier. “I’ll return it later.”

Kathryn stepped into the shower. “Can I join you?”

Owen swallowed. She stood naked in front of him, hair tousled, cheeks a little flushed from sleep. He knew his body was already responding to her, and when Kathryn’s gaze flicked down, he knew she did too. She grinned up at him and looped her hands around his neck.

“I’ve got a little time before my shift,” she told him, pushing her body against his, and trapping his half-hard cock between them. Owen groaned and pulled her up into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him and gasped as he shoved her against the wall of the shower.

A little time.

Owen kissed her hungrily, and Kathryn whimpered.

The Al-Batani was due to arrive over Earth in seven hours and fifty-two minutes.

Send me a ship and a number, and I’ll write you a kiss. 

[reflectingiridescent]

50 Days of Philippa and Afsaneh, Day 2

Today’s prompt is a goodnight kiss!

Wai Po (外婆) is a title for a maternal grandmother.

Pippa doesn’t feel tired...until she sits down and feels the lower half of her body crying out in relief. Maybe helping host this wedding’s reception has been more taxing than she cares to admit. When Afsaneh appears at her elbow with a glass of water, Pippa drinks it, realizing that she’s probably right, because she can’t remember the last time she saw her girlfriend. It must have been hours ago.

“I give good footrubs,” Afsaneh tells her, taking her now empty glass of water and replacing it with a glass of champagne. “I give the party another hour until it dies down. Do they usually last this long?” They’ve been out here since noon, and the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon. The distance that Pippa and Afsaneh have to keep from the celebration to talk in normal volume is testament to how ridiculous things have gotten.

Pippa smirks. “No. But this is different. My family is hosting.” Even now, she can make out her grandmother making the rounds with the guests, with well-spaced-out trips to the wedding celebrants to see if they need anything. “I’m sorry I left you alone.”

“Please. There are people here I never would have met otherwise while being a Starfleet Academy cadet. I’ve been having a great time.” She raises her own glass for a toast. “Besides, after this, I’ll have you all to myself.”

They sip, grinning at each other over their glasses. Behind them, waves gently wash over the shore, and the breeze is just cooling enough to ease Pippa’s blush. She takes Afsaneh’s hand and places her glass to the side. “Dance?”

The music’s a little too faint, and they probably look silly swaying to it this far away from the rest of the group, but the stars work their magic (they’re reliable like that), and Pippa leans into Afsaneh just a little more than usual.

“We could leave.”

Afsaneh pulls back and almost laughs. “What? I don’t want your family to see you slacking off.”

Pippa shrugs. “Iman’s already left, and Wai Po has already commented to me on three separate occasions today about how obviously I’m in love with you, so I’m pretty sure she expects it.

“Your grandmother is sharp as a tack.”

“No, tacks are dull in her wake.”

“This is like the only conversation we’ve had tonight.”

“Yeah, Wai Po was the tame version. You really, really don’t want to hear what Auntie had to say.”

“Yeah?”

“I could never steam anything to her liking.”

Afsaneh sniggers. Their clothes were rumpled this morning from sleeping on them. They’d been able to fix them. Or so they thought. “Okay, then. Let’s call it a night.”

Pippa definitely hears a tsk-tsk in the distance when she kisses Afsaneh in the beach moonlight, but Afsaneh doesn’t react, so Pippa holds her inner eyeroll to herself. She’ll face her family in the morning. This night belongs to them.