Practice Target ptIII

Posted on Fri Aug 29th, 2025 @ 12:27am by Commander Rosa Coy & Commander Jenna Ramthorne

832 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Character Development
Location: DS9

Powder led Rosa through the softly lit corridors of the station, each step measured, deliberate. Coy hummed softly in her mind, a quiet murmur of approval. “Good… slow… savor the approach. She doesn’t know yet what she wants, but she will.”

Powder’s fingers fidgeted with the strap of her uniform, glancing nervously at Rosa. “I… hope I’m not being… forward,” she whispered.

Rosa smiled, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her shoulder. “Curiosity isn’t a crime,” she murmured. “It’s a privilege,” Coy added, quieter now, letting Rosa lead while savoring every subtle reaction.

They reached Powder’s quarters. Rosa paused at the door, letting the moment stretch, letting anticipation curl around them like smoke. Coy’s presence was quiet, lewdly attentive, noting the subtle tremor in Powder’s fingers, the soft inhale as the door closed behind them. “Ah… perfect… we can practically taste the anticipation.” he whispered.

Rosa’s outward composure was calm, confident, flirtatious. But internally, the thrill of the chase coursed through her, the tension of control mingling with the excitement of Coy’s occasional nudges. Her fingers brushed Powder’s arm, tracing a delicate line from shoulder to wrist, eliciting a soft shiver. Powder’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly.

“Relax,” Rosa murmured. “No attachments. No illusions. Just this moment.” Rule one was whispered to herself as much as to Powder. Coy’s faint chuckle approved: “Yes… perfect… let her feel safe, let her wonder.”

Powder laughed softly, nervous and intrigued, as Rosa let her fingers wander just enough to tease, to hint at what could come without pressing too far. Coy’s voice flickered, barely audible, noting each reaction, each inhale, each shift of posture. “She’s curious… she wants it. Let her come to it.”

The flirtation continued in subtle, tantalizing ways. Rosa leaned close, her lips near Powder’s ear, whispering playful suggestions, letting her breath brush the skin. Coy’s presence was a quiet, guiding current, noting how Powder’s hair shifted, how her skin responded to the faint touch of air, how her body subtly mirrored Rosa’s movements.

A small hand brushed against Rosa’s, fingers lightly tracing the curve of her wrist. Rosa smiled, teasing, letting Powder’s tentative exploration guide the next movement. Coy’s purrs of approval were faint, savoring each delicate interaction. “By the Gods, girl, we are getting good at this.”

Minutes stretched like hours. Each laugh, each glance, each brush of skin against skin, was a careful negotiation of desire and restraint. Rosa’s thrill came not just from the touch, but from guiding, teaching, from controlling the rhythm, from maintaining boundaries while letting the moment reach its peak. Coy’s guidance, soft and lewd, kept her attuned, whispering faint encouragements, reminders of the rules, and approval.

Somewhere between bedsheets, kisses, wetness and goosebumps they, together, found the peak they were looking for. Then they rested before going again, and again. Finally, Rosa stepped back slightly, letting Powder’s breath catch. “Enough for now,” she murmured, soft but firm. “Always leave them wanting more.” Rule three, quiet but omnipresent. Coy hummed in satisfaction, approving the culmination of their careful orchestration.

Powder’s eyes met hers, a mix of curiosity, gratitude, and anticipation. She nodded, understanding unspoken boundaries, caught in the thrill of the shared moment. Rosa let a small, flirtatious smile linger before gathering her composure.

“Thank you,” Powder whispered, flushed and wide-eyed.

Rosa gave a subtle nod, adjusting her uniform, collecting herself, and returning her jacket to it's proper place. Coy’s quiet murmur followed: “Perfect… she’ll remember… we’ll remember… and the rules hold.”

Rosa stepped toward the door, giving Powder a final glance, letting the lingering tension hang, unspoken yet understood. Outside, she exhaled, walking briskly toward the shuttle bay. Coy was quiet, content, letting the thrill of the moment fade into satisfaction.

Once aboard her shuttle, Rosa settled into the pilot’s chair, adjusting the controls with precision. Her mind, clear and focused, replayed subtle details: the curve of Powder’s wrist, the tilt of her head, the shy inhale. Coy’s presence lingered softly, lewdly approving, reminding her that the thrill of the hunt was as much about control as release.

“No attachments… control is an illusion… always leave them wanting more,” Rosa whispered, running the rules through her mind like a pre-flight checklist. The shuttle hummed to life, engines settling, and the thrill of the previous night sharpened her focus. Coy’s quiet, approving murmur reminded her: they had succeeded in the game without losing themselves.

The stars stretched ahead, a tapestry of light and possibility. Rosa’s hands gripped the controls with confidence. She was ready for the flight instruction tomorrow, for the challenges of the day, and for the quiet thrill of knowing the rules had been honored, the chase enjoyed, and the moment savored.

END

 

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