This is a bit of fluff inspired by some of the recent speculation on the J&D Forum. It contains some graphic sexual content, so if that sorta thing bothers you, you might want to pass on this. This story is dedicated to Sunny H., who has 18 VCRs...and knows how to use them! *G*
Standard Legal Disclaimer
The characters and situations of Babylon 5 are the property of JMS, WB, PTEN, and any other legal holders of copyright. This work of fiction does not intend to infringe on the rights of the afore-mentioned, nor will I be making any money off of it!
Ivanova and Delenn were in the middle of their conversation when John Sheridan met them in the Zocalo. The two women looked up in greeting, twin smiles brightening their faces.
"Well, it's nice of you to finally get around to joining us," Ivanova mentioned as she took another bite of her lunch. The pasta had been cooling for ten minutes before she'd given up waiting for the Captain. "Get used to it, Delenn. He'll never be on time for dinner."
The Minbari ambassador smiled, placing her hands over her fiancée's. "I don't mind if he's late," she murmured softly. Sheridan flashed Ivanova a quick smirk, as if to say 'Don't mess with my girl.'
Without missing a beat, Delenn added, "It's when he leaves in the *middle* of dinner to break up a knife fight that I get concerned." Sheridan did a double-take as Delenn grinned broadly. "Of course, there is his habit of meditating... loudly...during dinner."
"I do not snore." "Yes, dear."
Sheridan's comeback was interrupted by the arrival of the waiter, who seemed completely unconcerned with the conversation at hand. "So, have you decided what you'd like to order?"
"Uh, yeah, I'd like--" His order was interrupted by a signal from his commbadge. "Aw, jeez...Sheridan, go."
"Captain, you have an incoming message from Ambassador Mollari on Centauri Prime." In anticipation of Sheridan's next question, the officer added, "He says it's urgent."
There was a long pause before Sheridan responded. "Put it through to my office. I'll be right there." With an apologetic look to Delenn and Ivanova, he began to rise. "I'm sorry. I'll pick up something to eat later." He placed a small, discreet kiss on Delenn's cheek.
"I'll make it up to you." "You certainly will. Alt-R."
Sheridan's face turned a shade paler. "Tonight?" "It must be tonight."
He sighed. "Okay. What are we up to?" "Forty-seven." "What time?" "Seven o'clock." Sheridan nodded as he turned to leave the Zocalo. "I'll see you then."
After he was gone, Ivanova leaned over to Delenn, who had resumed eating what was left of her lunch. "Alt-R?" Delenn swallowed. "Ritual. John said we had so many rituals, we might as well create a macro for it." "Weird." The Minbari ambassador shrugged with a small smile. "It works for us. Besides, it saves a lot of time."
"If I may be so bold, Ambassador..." This formality was met with a raised brow from Delenn. "What exactly does Ritual Forty-seven consist of?"
With a playful grin, Delenn said, "I was hoping you'd ask that. You see, Commander, I need your help." Ivanova got a chill down her spine--the same chill she always got when Delenn became...chummy. "Oy, vay."
John Sheridan had had a lousy day. It wasn't the most lousy of the lousy days he'd ever had, but it was still pretty lousy. The "urgent" message from Londo had turned into a two-hour conference call with the Drazi homeworld, trying to straighten out a mess only Londo could have orchestrated. He'd managed to get a cold sandwich delivered to him in C&C, but it didn't make up for missing lunch with Delenn and Susan.
And it didn't make up for the fact that they were up to something. The suspicion gnawed in his stomach, giving his hunger a run for its money. Nothing was more terrifying than two women talking, unsupervised, about nothing. Except maybe when those two women were Susan and his bride-to-be.
He sighed, punching in his access code without thinking. It wasn't until he'd walked into the darkened room that he remembered. "Aw, hell. Forty-seven."
"Forty-seven," came a low, sultry voice from the next room. Sheridan caught his breath for a moment. His quarters had been transformed, candles everywhere, the sound of soft music playing in the background.
"Delenn?" She was nowhere to be seen. He stepped further into the room, noticing for the first time the food laid out on the table. For a moment, he forgot about the ritual, overwhelmed by the rumbling in his stomach. "Wow," he murmured softly.
The table was covered with a variety of fruits, exotic and rare, everything from grapes to pomegranates. Black plums caught his eye, and he made his way to the table, hoping to grab a couple before the ritual began.
There was no avoiding that command. Sheridan looked up to see Delenn in the doorway to the bedroom. As his eyes adjusted to the sight, he stumbled back onto the couch in shock. Ambassador Delenn, religious leader of Minbar and Chosen One, stood before him, clad in a skin-tight black leather outfit, cut very low in the front, with high-heeled matching boots and a dangerous smile on her face.
"Delenn?" "You will not eat of the fruit until I give you permission," she said in a low voice.
There was a moment, an endless moment, where Sheridan could not respond. And when he did respond, it was not in the way expected.
He began to laugh.
Delenn exhaled loudly, a disgusted expression on her face. "John!" Sheridan held his hand over his stomach, bending over from a lack of oxygen, as he fought the laughter. "I'm...I'm sorry, Delenn. I just..." "This is not how you are supposed to react." Delenn stomped into the room, wobbling on her heels. "I researched it very carefully. When I give an order, you are supposed to be submissive."
This was met with more laughter. "It's not supposed to be funny!"
More laughter. "I'm--oh, Delenn, I'm sorry. I just..." She sat on the couch next to him, and pulled something out from behind her back. It was a stuffed kitten, with eight extra tails attached to it. "I even got a cat with nine tails for this...."
Sheridan howled. He couldn't help himself. It was too funny. As he collapsed backwards on the couch, Delenn began to laugh, too. He pulled her atop him, kissing her gently between laughs. "Is this forty-seven? Bondage and role-playing?" "Forty-seven is where the female learns one of the male's customs as a sign of her willingness to please him." She was toying with his cuffs, gently tugging on his wrists.
"You mean this is not a Minbari tradition?" He began to laugh again. He stopped laughing when Delenn got his wrists bound together behind his head... "What are you--" "I may have misinterpreted the cat o'nine tails," she said darkly. "But restraints are fairly universal."
"Delenn, come on. A joke's a joke." He pulled at the bonds, but they were made of an unfamiliar material and simply wouldn't give. "Okay, you've had your laugh. Now, untie me."
She stood up, pulling him to his feet roughly. "That is not the proper response." With a strength he did not know she had, Delenn forced John to his knees. "The proper response is 'Yes, Satai.'"
She struck him sharply across the face, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to get his attention. "The proper response is 'Yes, Satai.' You will speak when spoken to, and respond properly."
"Or..." There was an element of defiance in Sheridan's voice, an element designed to challenge her authority. She bent down to cup his chin, an easy smile on her lips. "Or you will be taught the proper respect."
Sheridan stared at her for a moment, then swung his bound hands forward, wrapping them around her shoulders and pulling her into a hard, demanding kiss. In no time, he was face down on the carpet, a single sharp heel digging between his shoulder blades.
"That was foolish," she remarked. Removing her foot from his back, she began to circle him slowly. At his silence, she added, "The proper response is, 'I am sorry, Satai.'"
Sheridan remained stubbornly quiet.
"The proper response is, "I am sorry, Satai.'" Delenn repeated the phrase, and this time there was no mistaking the warning in her tone.
"Satai..." she prompted.
Delenn smiled, nudging the toe of her boot through his thick brown hair. "Very good, John. Perhaps there is hope for you."
"Delenn...." He craned his neck, still in his supine position.
"If you wish to speak, you must ask permission. Otherwise, I might think you do not have the proper respect." Sheridan sighed, then said, "May I speak...Satai?" he added with a trace of frustration in his voice.
"You may speak." "Is this..." He motioned to his tied hands. "Really necessary?"
"For now. When you have been properly trained, perhaps I will trust you. But for the time being, you must be restrained." She placed her hands on his shoulder, guiding him up until he was kneeling before her. "I know this seems harsh, but trust me. You will be happy for the training. In time, you will see that this is better."
With a small grin, Sheridan said, "Well, then, *Satai*, I guess you'd better begin the lessons." He bowed his head in an exaggerated gesture of obedience.
"You just had it." Her voice was warm as she caressed his cheek. "The first lesson is to recognise authority. To know that you are helpless before me, and to rejoice in that vulnerability."
Sheridan stared at her for a moment. It was difficult to tell just how serious she was. Somewhere, beneath the costume and the overstated discipline, he suspected she was teaching him a lesson. His eyes raked over her, this time curiously. The leather moulded to her form perfectly, showing nothing, but revealing much. The neckline circled the base of her throat, then flared out to reveal a triangle of cream-coloured skin. Her dark hair was loosely gathered at the nape of her neck, and her hands were gloved.
She looked like a Psi cop.
"John," she whispered. "I will not hurt you." "I know," he whispered back.
Without another word, she motioned him to his feet. With effort, he stood and followed her into the bedroom.
Sheridan knelt in the middle of his bedroom, caught in the grey area between arousal and embarrassment. Delenn had removed his bonds only long enough to have him strip to his underwear, and then had tied his hands again. At least now they were low at his waist, instead of behind his head.
Delenn returned with the tray of fruit and placed it before him on the table. "You seemed quite hungry when you arrived."
"Yes...Satai," he answered. The plums were driving him crazy. It had been ages since he'd had one, and the smell of them was enough to make him cry.
"It is important for you to maintain your strength. Otherwise, you will become weak and, therefore, unable to perform your duties." "Yes, Satai."
Delenn picked a plum from the tray, holding it delicately between her fingers. "This is your favourite, yes, John?"
"Yes. Satai," he added quickly. She knelt before him, holding the plump fruit just inches away from his lips. "Would you like this, John?"
She brought the plum to her lips, licking the firm outer skin. "How much do you want the plum, John?"
He swallowed hard. Her mouth was playing against the fruit, teasing him.
"I asked you a question." "I am sorry, Satai." His eyes never left her mouth as she grazed her teeth over the plum, almost but not quite piercing the skin. "I would like it very much, please." He was stunned by the compliance in his own voice. Something as silly as a plum....
Delenn bit into the plum, and a trickle of juice escaped down her chin. She traced her fingertip over the juice and said, "You may have this."
Slowly, as if in a dream, John began to lick the juice from her chin. His tongue darted softly, then his lips pressed against her skin. Delenn closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, then pulled away. "Do not overstep, John."
He smiled. "I am sorry, Satai." He lowered his eyes and was abruptly reminded of Lennier. A curious gaze at Delenn, then he let the matter slide. No sense opening *that* can of worms.
Delenn had already plucked a white grape and offered it to him. He ate it gratefully, sucking the moisture from her fingers as he did. Quietly, without comment, she fed him grape after grape. One after another, until her fingers were the only thing in the world. Sheridan could not remember a time when something simple had tasted so good. All too soon, though, it stopped.
"I believe that should hold you for now." "Yes," he agreed. At her stern look, he added, "Thank you, Satai."
"You are welcome, John." She stood, pushing the tray back as she once again assumed her position of authority above him. "And what will you do to thank me for this generosity, John?"
He thought for a moment. A few dozen raunchy thoughts came into his mind, but he somehow suspected they wouldn't play into Delenn's little scenario. "I leave it to your discretion, Satai," he responded, opting for the safe route.
She smiled. "You may kiss my boot."
Sheridan raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. All things considered, it was not that bad. Her foot was tiny, and the soft leather smelled good. He pressed his lips against the curve of her boot, only to be pushed backwards.
"Hey--" "You did not thank me for the privilege," she said sharply. "You are an ungrateful wretch. I give you kindness, and how do you thank me?"
"Stand," she ordered. He staggered to his feet. "Place your hands behind your head." He hesitated for a moment, but quickly followed her orders when her hand connected with his face. "You will learn respect." At his silence, she added, "The correct response is 'Yes, Satai.'"
"Yes, Satai," he said immediately.
Even with the impossibly high heels she wore, Sheridan towered above her. If this bothered Delenn, it did not show in her expression. She placed one hand on his bare stomach, a touch which caused the muscles there to contract fiercely. She trailed a finger up his chest, then flicked his nipple firmly. Sheridan gasped as she took the sensitive knob of flesh between two fingers and rolled it slightly, pinching it as she did so.
She raked her eyes down his body, smiling as she saw the bulge beginning to form in the front of his shorts. "This arouses you?" she whispered.
"Yes, Satai." He barely heard his own words. Exposed. It was just a game, just a stupid game, but he was falling into it. He gasped again, another hard intake of air as she scraped her fingernails over his swollen nipple. The coolness of the room only made it worse. A draft. He began to breathe harder.
And still she stood there. Tiny, a tiny little thing. In another lifetime, he might have overpowered her, ended the game, but something in her eyes held him motionless. Maybe it was the knowledge that she did, in fact, have the strength to overwhelm him. Perhaps it was a thousand years of authority. But as he stared into her eyes, powerless and subservient, it stopped being a game.
"Kneel," she murmured. He lowered himself to his knees carefully, trying to keep his balance with his hands still clasped behind his neck. To his surprise, Delenn untied his hands.
"Thank you, Satai," he uttered, needing no prompting this time. He did not lower his hands.
"Undress me," she ordered. "Thank you, Satai," came the unbidden response. Slowly, he released the clasp of her collar, careful not to touch her skin. He was learning. With a concerted effort, he managed to lower his eyes in deference as he unzipped the bodice of her outfit. The leather slipped off of her shoulders, and the bodice fell to the floor, leaving only a lace black undergarment to cover her pale skin.
He lowered himself to gently grasp her left foot. "Satai," he said. "Yes, John?" "Perhaps it would be more comfortable for you to sit while I remove your boots."
She smiled at him, then walked over to the bed. She sat down and motioned for him to come to her. He began to move, then, impulsively, began to crawl to her on all fours.
Delenn laughed. It was a beautiful sound, and he felt suddenly giddy. "May I?" he asked, motioning to her foot. "Yes, you may."
Kneeling before her, he lifted her foot to his shoulder, resting it there as he slowly kissed the inside of her calf. He smoothed his cheek against the soft material of her boot, revelling in the feel of it against his skin. Lingering there, he grazed his teeth against the leather, startled by the sharp heel of her boot as it dug slightly into his shoulder. He heard her stifle a moan.
With a hidden smile, he unzipped the boot, and removed it. Her foot was bare beneath, and he massaged it slightly before releasing it. Using the same slow deliberation, he released her right foot from bondage as well, kissing and caressing her warm skin as he did so.
She lay back on the bed, motioning for him to remove her pants. As he slid them down her slim legs, Sheridan swallowed hard. She now wore nothing but a tiny lace garment, barely covering her breasts, waist, and hips. "Thank you, Satai," he whispered absently, unable to tear his gaze from her body.
"Do you want me?" she asked. As if it were a question.
"Yes, Satai," came the hoarse reply. As if there were any doubt. His shorts had become unbearable as his erection pushed uncomfortably against the fabric.
"Why?" she teased, trailing her fingertips lightly over her breasts. "Because...because you are Satai," he answered solemnly. "You are my life." It was not the answer he'd expected to give, but the words hung in the air between them. Sheridan realized it was true. This was a woman he would give anything for, do anything for, be anything for.
"Touch me," she whispered. "Gently."
With a deep breath, he traced his fingertips against her thighs, delighting in her reaction. His fingers barely touched her; it was as if her flesh attempted to meet him half-way. She moaned softly, not trying to hold it in this time. "Is this right, Satai? Does this give you pleasure?"
"Yes." A single syllable, low and almost inaudible. Sheridan began to unfasten the lace teddy, smoothing it over her bare skin, silken and hot. Her breasts lay small and perfect against her chest, and Sheridan took one hungrily into his mouth, forgetting to ask permission, not caring if she punished him for this. She said nothing. Except to purr.
"And this, Satai," he said. "Does this give you pleasure?"
"Yes." He tongued her nipple until it was hard and throbbing, scraping his teeth slightly over the vulnerable spot. This time her moan was loudly demanding. "Yes," she repeated, her hands finding their way to his hair, pressing him harder against her breast. He sucked hard, then slowly nibbled the soft underside of her breast.
Delenn's back arched, begging him without words. "John...."
The lace ripped in his hands, falling to the floor as he covered her body with his. "No more games," he growled. "No more games," she agreed, wrapping her legs around his waist and rolling him on to his back. Quickly, she removed his shorts, freeing his erection at last. It rose before her, heavy and demanding, and she took it into her hands, gently squeezing as she stroked him with slow, deliberate motions.
He cried out, her name mixing in with an inarticulate moan as he struggled to maintain his composure. Slowly, with maddening self-control, she lifted herself onto her knees, straddling him.
Delenn positioned the head of his penis just at the opening of her sex, tilting her pelvis slightly to get the feel of him. "Delenn!" Sheridan's cry was half anguish, half excitement. After a prolonged wait which seemed to Sheridan like eternity and ten minutes, she lowered herself onto him, taking inch after inch of him into her warm opening.
Sheridan lay perfectly still. He was afraid to move, afraid she would find another reason to punish him, to end this too quickly. But Delenn had closed her eyes, and began to rock back and forth. His length filled her completely, and her rhythmic motions grew faster, more frantic, as her insides tightened around him. Against his will, Sheridan was drawn into the motion, thrusting in sync with her movements, grasping her hips as she rode him.
Before long, she was lying atop him, mouth to mouth as their bodies came crashing together. Sheridan rolled her over onto her back, laughing as her hands reached up to grab his hair. She buried her face in his shoulders, moaning as he thrust deeply into her. The force behind his movements would have hurt a weaker woman, but Delenn met it, and returned it in kind. Her hot tears burned into his skin as the first wave of climax took her. Her body spasmed against his, internal muscles tightening around his penis. The cry she released was more animal than not, and her fingers dug deeply into his shoulders.
Sheridan felt his own impending release and quickened his pace. Before long, he was where she had been, more animal than human, more mad than sane. His body pounded into hers as orgasm finally took hold of him. There was nothing to do but let it happen.
When it ended, there was a sudden, overwhelming quiet. All he heard was the sound of her pulse as he lay his cheek against her shoulder.
"John..." "Yes?" "You forgot to ask permission."
He looked up at her in disbelief, then laughed. She smiled, and fell asleep.
Sheridan awoke to an empty bed. He looked around, and saw Delenn seated cross-legged on the floor at the foot of his bed. A single candle had been retrieved from the other room, and Delenn focused on it in a way that could only mean one thing.
She was meditating.
He closed his eyes and rolled over, not wanting to disturb her. But she had already noticed he was awake. "Did I wake you?" she asked. "No, it's okay. Go back to your meditation."
Delenn blew out the candle, and uncrossed her legs. Somewhere along the line, she'd put on one of his night-shirts. "I am finished," she said, and crawled back into bed with him. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah." He kissed the tip of her nose, then her forehead, as she snuggled up against him. "You gave me quite a workout."
"Can I assume you enjoyed the ritual?" "Yes, Delenn. I enjoyed the ritual." She nuzzled his shoulder. "I had no idea Minbari were into such...exotic experiences."
"Oh, we're not. I mean, it would have never occurred to me to do such a thing." Delenn sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "That is why I asked Susan."
"Susan??" Sheridan sat up immediately, dislodging Delenn from her position. "You asked Susan??" "Well, yes. As I told you, the ritual involves the female learning one of the male's customs to pleasure him. I had no idea what you would enjoy, so I asked Susan for suggestions." She didn't see Sheridan's face growing pale...or at least, she pretended not to. "She was very helpful. She gave me plenty of reference materials, and even helped me to find the outfit. She said she thought you would respond very well to this."
Sheridan fought down his response. "She did, huh?" "Oh, yes. She said that human males in a position of authority often like to be dominated sexually. Psychologically, it seemed sound."
He couldn't tell whether her innocence was feigned or authentic. At this point, he didn't really care. "Well, in the future, you might not want to go to Susan for advise on sexuality."
She leaned up on one elbow, kissing his shoulder. "Are you saying you did not enjoy this?" "That's not the point." "And what is the point, my love?" Her lips played softly against his skin.
Sheridan took her in his arms, kissing her firmly. "Go to sleep," he chided.
"Yes, John." Her voice held all the counterfeit obedience he had used earlier. As they lay back together, she murmured, "Just wait until Ritual Number Forty-eight."
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