The BLTS Archive- Breakfast of Champions
by Trexphile (trxphile@cox.net)

---

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the dishes and cutlery, but I choose what I
want to put on my plate.

December 1997

---

She was hungry.  Really hungry.

She stared at the breakfast menu displayed on the replicator panel,
idly chewing at her lower lip.  "I'm sick of croissants," she
muttered.  "I'm sick of coffee.  I'm sick of routine and protocol and
politely smiling conversation."  She studied the waiting table for a
moment, then began inputting commands.

One by one various dishes appeared on the shelf and Beverly carried
each in turn to the table, distracted by her thoughts as she had been
for the last two weeks.  With the addition of each item, her
frustration grew even more until finally, when there was no room left,
she was forced to sink into her chair and stare at the motley
assortment of dishes before her.        She leaned her chin into her
hand and idly fingered a bagel.

Those dreams .... it would be easier perhaps if it weren't for those
damned dreams.  Every night now for the past two weeks Jean-Luc had
visited her in her dreams, each one a steamy and incredibly erotic
dalliance that could probably make Will blush.  She had attempted to
satisfy the inevitable response to these dreams with her various toys
and her imagination but the results had been unsatisfactory, just a
bandaid for the ache that wouldn't go away.

She stood and surveyed the culinary landscape she had constructed and
sighed. Jean-Luc would be there soon and she could only imagine what
he would say when he saw the spread.  'What am I doing?' she thought. 
'He's goin to think I've lost my mind ...'  And then she started to
smile.  'So I won't give him any time to think ....'

---

The chime sounded at precisely 0800.  "Punctual, as always," she
murmured and more loudly, "Come in."

"Good morning, Beverly," he said as soon as the doors had closed
behind him,his small smile as cordial as always.  She stood behind her
chair and watched as his eyes dropped to the table -- and almost
laughed aloud at his incredulous expression.

He crossed slowly to his chair, never taking his eyes from the table. 
After a long moment, he looked up at her.  "Beverly ...." he began,
the questioning uncertainty quite obvious in his voice.

"I thought we'd try something new this morning," she replied simply
and sat, unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap.  Her eyes
roamed his body as he sat slowly, frowning at the food, and she felt
the warmth ignite and begin to grow inside her.  This time that fire
would be quenched properly ...

"Something to drink first?"  She spoke softly, trying to keep the
growing passion out of her voice, not totally succeeding.

"Ummm ... yes.  What is there?"

She indicated the table offhandedly.  "Coffee, tea, orange juice,
cranberry juice, hot cider, bloody Mary ... for starters."

"Coffee ... will be fine."  He searched the table for the coffeepot. 
She rose and, finding the object of his search, moved to his side and
poured the hot liquid into his waiting cup.  After setting the pot
back down she stepped closer to him, her hip touching his arm.  "So --
what would you like?"

He looked up at her.  "What are my choices?"

She stifled the urge to reel off the choices she had in mind, those
that consisted of various techniques and positions and instead began
ticking off the dishes that lay before them.

"Bacon, fried ham, kippers, sausages, bagels, doughnuts, whole wheat
toast, eggs, pancakes, waffles, biscuits and gravy, cantaloupe, kiwis,
tomatoes, grits, oatmeal, tortillas, Wheaties ..."  She craned her
neck to see more. "And, oh yes -- croissants."  She smiled at him and
shifted just enough to press against him so that she could feel the
hard muscle of his upper arm against her thigh.

He didn't look at her -- he was still regarding the repast a bit
skeptically. "Wheaties?  What is that?"  He looked up her then.

She shrugged.  "I don't know -- just something I found on the list. 
Here." She leaned across him, deliberately letting her breast pass
just centimeters from his face and was delighted when she heard him
gasp softly.  She pulled back again, just as slowly, just as
deliberately, almost touching him this time, noticing with a jolt of
pleasure that he hadn't shifted to avoid the touch.     She placed a
biscuit on his plate.  "How about this."  With determined
concentration, she carefully scored the side of the biscuit with a
thumbnail and slowly, delicately opened the biscuit to reveal its
soft, fluffy, steaming interior.

"Now," she whispered, "we'll need something to go with that."  She
spoke aloud as she considered her choices.  "Gravy -- no, too heavy.    
Butter -- too rich, no sweetness.  Marmalade -- too fruity and chunky. 
How about ...." She lifted a jar of honey and presented it.  "Now this
will be just perfect."  She twirled the honey dipper in the jar and
brought it out slowly, holding it over the biscuit.  With tongue
poised at her lips, she let the golden trail trickle down onto the
white bread, laughing softly as it coiled and melted into the
irregular surface, lowering herself down until she was kneeling by
Jean-Luc's side.  With a twist, she stopped the flow and caught one
last drop on her finger.  She looked over at him and saw that he was
looking at her with a wondering expression.

"Try it."  She extended her dripping finger toward his lips.

"Beverly --" he began and she placed her finger against his lower lip,
forcing him to grab the honey with his tongue before it could drip
down his chin.  She didn't move her finger, kept it poised against his
lip and his tongue curled against it as he licked the sweetness.  She
smiled and started to pull her finger away.  A shock coursed through
her when his lips closed around her finger and he sucked it gently,
his tongue moving warmly around it, his teeth grazing the sensitive
tip.

She fought to keep her eyes open, to keep the moan from escaping.  Her
arm seemed to lose its strength as the tickling of his tongue and
teeth sent shivers down her arm toward her pulsing core.  He released
his grip and her finger slipped from his mouth.

"That was good," he breathed, his eyes probing hers.  "What else do
you have that's good?"

She tore her gaze away from his, rose slowly and looked out over the
choices. She felt his hand move and she held her breath as it touched
her tentatively on the back of her knee, then moved more firmly up the
back of her thigh, brushing the mound of her bottom before coming to
rest on her lower back. She stared unseeing at the table, too
distracted by his touch to even think. She closed her eyes for a
moment.

"What are you in the mood for, Jean-Luc?" she managed.

He stood, keeping his hand on her back and leaned forward.  He picked
up a plate of waffles and set them in front of her. "I've always liked
waffles with strawberries but I don't see any here ..."  He scanned
the table.  "I suppose this will have to do."   He scooted a jug of
maple syrup closer to the plate. "Shall I do the honors?"

"Please," she breathed, her heart pounding.

He lifted the jug and poured a thin rivulet across the waffle, taking
care to fill every square.   Setting the container back down, he
picked up a fork and cut into a syrup-soaked corner, speared it and
held it up high over the plate. "Have some," he said and Beverly
smiled.

He didn't move the fork any closer to her so she leaned in and,
opening wide, took the dripping bite into her mouth.    The large
morsel was soaked through with syrup and some of it dribbled out onto
her lip, threatening to drip down her chin.  She chewed the large
bite, unable to lick her lips yet.

"How careless of me," he said softly.  "That was too large, wasn't it?
Here." He wiped along her lip with his finger, gathering up the sticky
syrup.  She chewed quickly and swallowed, watching him as he brought
his finger to his mouth and licked it clean.    "Very tasty," he
murmured, staring at her mouth.  "And you are a mess.  Let me fix
that."

He leaned in and Beverly waited for him to wipe at her mouth again. 
He kept coming closer, however and she gasped when his tongue traced
along her lip, cleaning away the syrup.  She brought her hands up,
taking his face in both and moved her lips to take in his roaming
tongue.  Their sticky mouths joined and they sampled hungrily what the
other had to offer.

He pulled away.  Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breathing
was quick, the throbbing in her loins almost painful in its intensity. 
She hadn't expected Jean-Luc to respond so quickly to her advances,
certainly not as directly as he had.

"So what's next?"  Her voice quivered.

"How about something a bit more substantial," he replied and reached
for the closure on her grey uniform.  She held her breath as he slowly
opened the front of the jumpsuit to her waist revealing the teal
turtleneck beneath. She stood still, waiting.  He slipped the jumpsuit
top off her shoulders and she wriggled her arms free.  His eyes roamed
over her chest and bare arms and she felt a tingling blush rise to her
cheeks, a shudder causing her nipples to harden and push against the
cloth of the turtleneck.  She was wearing nothing else underneath and
wondered if that fact was evident.      She was answered almost
immediately by Jean-Luc's low breathily mumured "Yes ..." and he
reached out and covered one breast with his hand, firmly moving his
palm across the hard point underneath the material.     She sighed and
closed her eyes.

She felt his hand at the base of her throat and the fastener of her
turtleneck being lowered.  She opened her eyes again when she felt his
hot breath at her neck and she moaned and laid her hands on the back
of his head, tilting her head back as his lips trailed fire in their
wake.  She pressed against him, feeling his arousal standing hard
against her groin and she ground her hips into their connection.

"Beverly..."  He groaned and brought his mouth to hers again, urgency
guiding his tongue and lips, she reciprocating with equal fervor.  Her
hands gripped him tightly across his back and she moved down to feel
the contours of his ass, loving the feel of it under her hands, the
reality even better than the fantasy could ever be.

He pulled away and, grasping the hem of the tank top, pulled it over
her head, baring her to the waist.      Eyes smoldering with
undisguised desire, he placed a kiss between her breasts, then pulled
down on her jumpsuit, tugging it past her hips until it was bunched
around her feet.        She stepped out, then worked her way out of
her boots as he caressed her belly and hips with those wonderful
hands.

With a soft sigh, he took a nipple into his mouth and the jolt of
pleasure was so intense she reached out quickly, trying to find
something to steady herself against.  There was a thump as her hand
knocked against an object, toppling it over.  She shifted to see it as
Jean-Luc raised up, looking in the same direction.

"Oh God, I've made a mess," she moaned, watching the milk pool and
drip off onto the floor.

"It doesn't matter," he replied and, taking her by the waist with both
hands, pushed her over against the table so that she was half-sitting
on the edge. With one swipe of his forearm, he pushed objects back to
make more room, then lifted her so that she was seated completely on
the edge of the table.  He moved to stand in between her knees.  She
reached up and unfastened his jacket as quickly as she could, then the
turtleneck beneath.  His fingers moved constantly -- through her hair,
across her shoulders, down her sides, across her back, then back
around to her breasts.  Despite the incredible distractions, she
managed to divest him of all the layers covering his torso.  She moved
quickly to his pants and when he was finally exposed before her, she
couldn't bring herself to speak.  Her fantasies had not prepared her
for the magnificence she saw before her now and her mouth watered in
anticipation.  She trailed her fingers across his thighs and up to his
pulsing center, taking it in both hands -- 'My God, both hands!' she
exclaimed to herself.  He moaned as she stroked him, and he leaned in,
thrusting just slightly, matching her rhythm.

She leaned down to taste him but he gripped her shoulders and instead
sunk to his knees before her.  He grabbed the waistband of her panties
and she raised her hips to allow him to slip them off.  He held the
lacy nothings up, a question on his face.

"They're called thongs," she breathed.  "Starfleet uniforms are rather
tight ..."

"My god ... if I'd known before that you were wearing these ..."  He
didn't finish but grabbed her hips and lowered his head.  When his
lips touched her inner thigh, she tilted her head back and gripped the
edge of the table for support, so close, so close already.  He worked
his way up and when his tongue tasted her for the first time, she
jerked and cried out, her whole body trembling.  'So close ... my God
... am I there already?? ...'  His tongue caressed her slowly,
leisurely, for only a few seconds and then she was overcome by a
shattering orgasm, crying out, her whole body taut, the shudders
shaking her and rattling the dishes on the table.  He stopped his
ministrations, mercifully, she thought, because she didn't think she
could take anymore right at that moment.

He raised up and pressed his face into her belly, his arms wrapped
tightly around her.  She managed to regain some control -- she sat up
and kneaded his back with her hands, the initial urgency sated for the
moment but the desire still pulsing inside her.  He began kissing
across her stomach and she moved one hand back, coming in contact with
something sticky on the table behind her.  She reached for the object,
recognizing it by touch, and brought it up.

Jean-Luc raised his head to look at her and she smiled as she held the
dripping honey dipper up to her lips and let a drop fall onto her
tongue. She did the same for him then leaned down and pulled his mouth
to hers.  He rose as they kissed until her was standing over her.  She
broke away, twirled the dipper in the honey jar, and brought it forth
to hold over his engorged penis.        She held it there just long
enough for the honey to curl across the tip and begin flowing down the
sides.  She dropped the utensil on the table and grabbed his hips in
both hands, her head poised in position, watching the amber liquid as
it caressed the taut skin.  With a sigh, she flicked her tongue out
and caught a drop, savoring the sweetness.  She smiled as his penis
jumped at her touch, then she circled the head with her tongue,
collecting the honey in her mouth.

Jean-Luc moaned and grabbed her head.  She took the head of his penis
fully into her mouth, then let it slide back out so that she could
swallow the honey that she had gathered.  The taste was so different,
the sweet combined with the earthy salt, his intimate scent adding yet
another dimension.  She took him back into her mouth and this time
moved down until she could go no farther.  With slow deliberation, she
moved up and down, changing the pressure with her lips and tongue,
eliciting unintelligible sounds from Jean-Luc.

She increased the tempo and his fingers entangled in her hair even
more tightly, almost painfully.  She didn't break her rhythm, didn't
slow down, kept pulling him upwards, the pulsing between her legs
driving her on. "Beverly ..." he moaned hoarsely,  "so good ...feels
so good ..."  She could feel him growing, getting even larger in her
mouth and she knew he was close.

"Wait," he grunted and grabbed her face in his hands, stilling her
movements. She released him and looked up, licking her lips.  He
pulled her up and kissed her hard, driving his tongue into her mouth
as if to consume her whole. Slowly he pushed her back, never breaking
the intensely passionate kiss.

Her lower back hit something, knocking it over.  "Jean-Luc," she
managed after breaking away.

He leaned over her and with both hands thrust dishes, plates and
containers toward the other end of the table.  Crockery and glass
clattered and thumped as it hit the floor.  He kept pushing until
enough space was cleared for Beverly to lie back completely.  She
reached for him and pulled him on top of her, oblivious to the mess
lying around her. He waited for a few moments, gazing hungrily into
her eyes, poised, ready and, unable to wait any longer, she grabbed
his hips and pushed her pelvis up.

She moaned as he slid into her and she heard his answering "Yes ..." 
He felt so good, filling her completely and he set a slow, delicious
rhythm that she began to match.  She closed her eyes as the sensations
overwhelmed her, driving everything else away except the feel of him,
of what he was doing to her, with her, inside her.  In an aching,
wonderful rush, the orgasm began, beginning at her core and radiating
throughout her body.  As the warmth dissipated and her muscles began
to relax, she felt Jean-Luc tense above her as he thrust one last time
and held still, his body rigid.  He moaned her name and she wrapped
her arms around him, feeling him pulsing inside her as he buried his
face in her neck.

He slowly relaxed and she loved the feel of him on her as she held
him, the rough touch of his hairy chest against hers, the damp skin of
his back, the weight of him.  It had been too long, far too long.

He raised up, resting on his elbows, still inside her.  Sweetly,
gently, he kissed her mouth, then looked at the devastation
surrounding them.  "Look what we did ..." he said softly.

"Yes," she murmured, "just look at what we did," and she laid her palm
against his cheek.

"Looks like we have some cleaning up to do."

"Later, my love."  She tightened her embrace, bringing his mouth close
to hers.  "I'm hungry -- we haven't had breakfast yet, you know."

He chuckled and kissed her.

---

She lay back on the couch, naked, head propped on the arm.  He sat on
the floor facing her, also naked, holding a bowl, the contents of
which he was spooning into her mouth.

She chewed thoughtfully.  "Not too bad ..."

He ate a spoonful.  "So this is 'Wheaties.'"  He shrugged.  "Rather
bland, in my opinion."

He offered her another bite and a soggy flake dripped from the spoon,
landing on her bare nipple.  He smiled at her mischievously, bent down
and sucked the cereal from her breast, causing her to gasp.

He smiled at her.  "Much better that way."

She laughed softly and waited for another bite.

---

The End