Practice Target ptI

Posted on Mon Aug 25th, 2025 @ 11:43pm by Commander Rosa Coy & Commander Jenna Ramthorne

787 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Character Development
Location: DS9

The Liberty was currently docked at Deep Space Station Nine after her latest mission, and Rosa was looking forward to some target practice. Technically, she had a test flight scheduled for the next day, so Coy had convinced her to go looking for what he called "A practice target".

Rosa’s boots clicked softly against the metal floor as she stepped into Quark’s. The bar smelled faintly of roasted synth meats, the tang of replicated ale, and the undercurrent of countless bodies pressed together in conversation and laughter. She inhaled, letting the hum of activity settle into her senses, each detail cataloged by Coy with an almost palpable enthusiasm.

“Ohhh… yes… eyes everywhere,” Coy purred in her head, the voice sly and lewdly approving. “So many curves, so many vulnerabilities. But patience, Rosa… patience. We’ll pick the perfect one.” After so many hunts, Coy's voice still made Rosa's stomach churn.

Rosa let the voice roll over her. Coy was quieter than usual, letting her take the lead, but the thrill of the hunt had him awake and alert. Her eyes swept the bar with precision, scanning shoulders, posture, the curve of hips beneath fabric, the subtle tension in a hand as it hovered near a glass. She cataloged the crowd like a pilot lining up a landing approach: calculating, precise, predatory.

A pair of human women leaned on the bar, laughing too loudly, spilling replicated drinks onto the counter. Coy hissed quietly in her mind: “Too obvious. Too bold. Not them.”

Jenna Ramthorne stood by a table, grin sharp, surveying the room with a confidence Rosa could respect, if not envy. She made a joke and Rosa half laughed, showing she was there for fun, but not camaraderie. Coy noted Jenna immediately, but Rosa’s attention was elsewhere.

In a corner, tucked slightly away from the main traffic of the room, sat the perfect target: a Bajoran hybrid with a delicate, slightly nervous posture. Golden-flecked eyes reflected the low light, soft waves of dark hair brushing her collar. She sipped a drink, fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly, legs crossed in a manner that suggested both caution and latent curiosity.

“Ahh… yes,” Coy breathed in her head, quieter now, savoring the scene. “Alone, unaware, perfectly balanced between curiosity and hesitation. A thrill to tease, a challenge to navigate. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s ours for tonight.”

Rosa’s smile was subtle, almost invisible, but precise in its intent. She allowed her outward confidence to mask the predatory calculation inside, letting Coy guide her in the smallest ways: the shift of a shoulder, the tilt of a head, the arc of a smile.

Powder’s gaze flicked up just once, curiosity sparking as she noticed Rosa’s measured approach. Coy hummed quietly in delight. “Yes… slow. Let her notice. Let her wonder. Eyes, voice, hands… a symphony of subtle pressure.”

Rosa let her boots carry her closer, deliberate and confident, a predator approaching without startling the prey. Every movement was calibrated: too fast, and she would spook; too slow, and Coy would grow impatient. Her pulse surged not from lust but from the thrill of the game. Coy’s occasional lewd thoughts punctuated her mind, imagining the subtle responses this prey didn’t yet know she would have: a quickening of breath, a shift in posture, a hand brushing lightly against a knee.

Minutes passed as she circled closer, each micro-step measured, the thrill building. Powder’s curiosity edged forward, just enough to meet Rosa halfway without committing fully. Coy murmured approvingly: “Careful… yes… that hesitation is delicious. Keep it taut. Make her want more.”

Rosa’s outward charm was easy, conversational. Her mind was a taut wire, finely balanced between anticipation and control. Coy’s quieter guidance reminded her of the rules she always kept close: no attachments, no illusions of permanence, leave them wanting more. She repeated them silently like a pilot running through pre-flight checks.

The decision crystallized in a single heartbeat: the golden-flecked Bajoran — Powder —was the target. All paths converged on her, and Coy hummed softly, almost reverently.

“This one, Rosa… this one. Let’s begin.”

Rosa exhaled lightly, her outward calm a mask for the thrill coiling inside her. She took a final measured step toward Powder, ready to engage, to tease, to lead… and Coy was finally satisfied, the symbionts' rare quiet joy lingering in her mind.

She closed the distance, letting her smile and posture do the talking first. Powder’s eyes followed, curiosity and caution warding — and the dance was about to begin.

TBC

 

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