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Jonathan Archer tastes like passion fruit.
Of course, this shouldn’t surprise you, given how he drinks iced tea flavored with the stuff with almost every meal except breakfast, but still, it’s a sticky-sweet surprise as you kiss on the otherwise-abandoned observation deck, the ship thrumming at warp speed. One of his big hands strokes through your hair and you realize that you’re close enough now to see the gold flecks in Jonathan’s hazel eyes. They seem to move and shift in his passion, like the stars outside, only so much warmer.
Jon’s lips claim yours again, and that taste you’ve come to associate with him makes delicate lines of pleasure stream from your lips to the rest of your body, making your nipples peak and your inner thighs tingle. You slide your hands up his back and to his shoulders, feeling the firm muscle beneath his Starfleet-issue uniform. Jon’s body is a mystery of peaks, sheer cliffs, and expansive valleys of fair skin, and you long to explore it all.
“What are you thinking about?” Jon asks, his voice as rich and delicious as the remnants of the fruit on his lips.
You smile and touch his face.
“That you taste good.”
Jonathan takes your hand and leads you toward his quarters. As the door wooshes open, you tug at his hand.
“Fair’s fair . . . what are you thinking?”
Jonathan smiles and licks his lips, perhaps hinting at what he has planned for you.
“That I aim to find out if the rest of you tastes just as sweet as your lips.”
The door to Jon’s quarters closes as you step forward to meet and match the passion in those heated hazel eyes.