The Isle of Joy, chapter 2
As they left the restaurant, Spock studied the activity on the promenade of the space station. Several other restaurants were visible, as well as a number of specialty and gift shops, and it all surrounded a large, decorative fountain that at the moment appeared to be the playground for a number of Andorian children. He had noticed when they beamed over from the Enterprise that the shops were arranged in six tiers, all overlooking the fountain, but he had not yet been given the opportunity to investigate the additional levels.
They walked a short distance from the restaurant door and stopped to watch the children play in the fountain.
Touching him lightly on the arm, Uhura said, "I hope you don't mind that I didn't want to stay and eat."
"I did not mind. I am quite willing to do whatever you wish."
She smiled slyly. "I hoped you'd say that."
"Am I to understand that you have something more than a mere walk in mind?"
"Follow me."
She headed for the lift in the center of the courtyard. When they were inside, she said, "Top level."
"Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see."
He tilted his head, but she did not elaborate. Her expression indicated that she had a plan for their time together, though, and he felt a slight tug in his genitals as he speculated on what it might be.
The lift opened into a quiet hallway. A number of exotic potted plants lined the walls, and he could see what looked like a hotel lobby at the end of the hall to the right. She turned to the left, so he followed.
She continued until she had reached the very end of the hallway, then pulled a small data wafer from her pocket. Showing it to him, she grinned and inserted it into the slot. The door slid open, and he followed her into the room.
As he had surmised, it was a hotel room, but it was an exceedingly spacious and well-appointed hotel room. Rather than a suite with separate rooms in which one could relax, bathe, or sleep, everything was contained in one large, open area. Even more impressive was the fact that two adjoining walls consisted of observation windows that curved from waist-level to the center of the ceiling, providing an unbroken view of the stars that surrounded the station.
She walked over to rest her hands on the sill. "Isn't it incredible?"
Moving behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked out over her head. "This is indeed spectacular. Have you noticed that neither the spacedock nor the space station is visible from this vantage point?"
"You're right! It's almost like being on an island in the middle of an ocean of stars, a tiny island where there are no other inhabitants but you and me." She leaned back against him. "We can look to the horizon in any direction, and all we can see is the endless expanse of the ocean. This is perfect, absolutely perfect."
They were silent for a long moment. Finally, she asked, "How long do we have?"
"Mr. Scott estimated that our maintenance would be complete by 1500 hours. If Admiral Kirk requests diagnostics against the warp core, that will add an additional one point three hours. Therefore, I predict that I will be recalled to the Enterprise in approximately three point five hours."
She faced him. "Then I guess we'd better make good use of our time."
"That would be the logical thing to do."
He held up his right hand with two fingers extended. Looking into his eyes, she slowly raised her hand and gently pressed her fingers to his. Her touch was cool but vibrant, the humming essence of her life-force like the ripples that hint at the rich complexity beneath the calm surface of a lake. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of her smooth skin against his own.
"Your hands are always so soft, Nyota, but I have watched them ply a communications board as if it were a musical instrument, hammer nails into a treehouse, lift children and comfort old people, and grasp my body so tightly they leave marks on my flesh, and I know that they are strong and capable."
He looked at her again and found that she had closed her eyes, as well.
"Tell me more," she whispered.
Cradling her hand now in both of his own, he studied her palm and fingers closely, and gently massaged her hand so that he could feel the muscles and the delicate bones beneath.
He ran his fingers out to the tips of her index and middle fingers. "When you are listening to a message, you place these two fingers on the receiver in your ear. If you do not like the contents of the message, you turn your hand so that your thumb is resting on it as well."
She smiled but did not open her eyes. "I do not!"
"Indeed you do. I have always assumed that it is because you are only a hairsbreadth away from removing the receiver forcibly from your ear." He continued his investigation, rubbing the slick, hard surfaces of her fingernails. "In addition, when you are anxious, you tap your thumbnail against the nail of your middle finger. If you straighten all of your fingers and spread them apart while gesturing with your hands, I know that you have become upset with me. But I know that I am in serious trouble if you draw your fingers into your palm so that the only nail I can see is that of your thumb."
"You've learned all of that just by watching me?"
"That, and much more. For example..."
He took one of her fingertips gently into his mouth, then released it.
"...I know that you do not find it particularly stimulating when I do that. When I do this, however..."
He ran his lips lightly down the length of her finger and slowly kissed her palm.
"...I know that I can elicit the desired response. And if I do this..."
He placed his parted lips back on her palm, but this time brought them down across her wrist and to the soft skin of her forearm, tasting her, and taking care that he kept his touch light and lingering.
"...I can predict with near certainty that you will lean your head back as if you are mesmerized."
He looked up to see her reaction to his statement, because as he had known she would, she had tilted her head back and swayed gently forward when he began to kiss her arm.
Straightening, she met his eyes, a small, enticing smile on her lips.
"Two can play at this game," she said softly. "It's going to be harder for me because most of your reactions are so subtle, but I think I can do it. First, though, I want to set the mood."
Backing away, she held his eyes for a moment, then walked to a long, low table that was set against the inner wall. Spock stayed where he was, watching curiously as she opened the small drawer in the table and pulled out a narrow box. Next, she struck a match and began lighting what appeared to be a grouping of twelve candles that were already arranged on the table.
"So now I see why you were late arriving at the restaurant," he said.
"That's right. I don't know what I would have done if you'd insisted that we stay and eat."
"You would have begun gesturing, your fingers stiff and spread, and you would have found a reason to convince me to leave."
She chuckled. "Probably so. There, that does it."
The candles were all burning, their soft glow reflected in the long mirror that adorned the wall above the table. She took a moment to admire them, then said, "Computer, lights off. Play 'Water Music' by George Friederic Handel."
As the neat, precise notes floated unobtrusively into the room, Spock watched her return. "You may play Debussy if you wish. As I told you on Gamma Cygnus, I will not object."
Moving close, she began to open his jacket. "All right. Computer, after 'Water Music' play assorted piano works of Claude Debussy beginning with 'Clair de lune.'" She eased his jacket off his shoulders. "You know, it has occurred to me that if I keep playing Debussy during our more pleasurable moments, you might decide that you've learned to like it after all."
As he slipped his arms out of the jacket, he said, "You may bring an entirely new meaning to the term 'music appreciation class.'"
"My parents always did say that they thought I should have been a music teacher." She tugged on his shirt until it was completely untucked and ran her hands up underneath it. "Now. I'm going to tell you about you. Take off your shirt."
He removed it without comment.
Her hands still on his abdomen, she stepped closer and murmured. "For example, you have very sensitive nipples. I'm not going to touch them, kiss them, or even breathe on them, but they're going to get hard just because you're thinking about my touching them."
He glanced down to see that she was correct. "Very astute."
"Yes. And now, I'm going to just gently brush myself against you like this..."
At the same moment that she kissed him lightly in the center of his chest, she moved her hips so that she just barely came in contact with his groin. He was not expecting anything more than the kiss, and she caught him unawares. He took a small, quick breath in response.
"...and you're going to gasp. Just like that. And you'll moan, so softly, when I do this."
She opened his pants and slid her hand in to gently cup his testicles.
"Of course, you were trying your best not to moan since you knew that's what I expected. But if I do this..."
She raked her fingernails lightly up the length of his erection, and he could not suppress the small sound that escaped from his throat.
She smiled. "...you won't be able to help yourself."
Reaching for her jacket, he slipped it off her shoulders and dropped it on the floor behind her. "I am still unconvinced. Perhaps another example is in order."
Pushing his pants down to his hips, she quickly crouched in front of him and engulfed him in her mouth. The suddenness of her action caused him to gasp, loudly this time, and when she gradually drew her lips outward he wondered if his knees would hold him upright.
She stood again and stepped into his arms. Licking her lips, she placed her hands behind his neck and said, "Look me in the eyes and tell me that your toes aren't curled up in your boots."
He pulled her tightly against him. "I am convinced."
Neither of them spoke as they gazed at one another, and finally he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth was soft and pliant, and she tasted faintly of the brand of toothgel he knew she favored. He could also taste himself. When he inhaled, he detected the subtle scent of patchouli, and he wondered if she had changed perfumes recently or if the aroma came from the candles.
Not breaking the kiss, he pulled her shirt loose so that he could touch her bare skin. Her back was smooth, even smoother than her hands, and he spread his fingers against her so that he could better appreciate her softly rounded curves. Through the fabric of her shirt, he could feel her breasts as they pressed against his chest, and although the sensation was extremely pleasing, he decided that direct contact would be even better.
He brought his lips across her cheek until he had reached her ear. "Allow me to remove your clothing," he whispered.
"Yes."
His movements deliberate, he lifted her shirt over her head, unhooked her bra, then opened her skirt and pushed it until it dropped to the floor. Her boots slid easily off her feet, and as he knelt in front of her, he reached back up and tugged her underpants down to her ankles as well.
He stood and quickly removed his own clothing. Instead of pulling her back into his arms, however, he turned her so that she faced out toward the stars, then stepped up behind her until her back pressed firmly against his torso. Less gentle now, he placed both of his hands on her breasts, and she gasped and leaned her weight against him.
Kissing her shoulder, he lowered his right hand until he could touch her between the legs. She was already wet with arousal, and his fingers slid easily against her. If he looked toward the window, he could see their reflections, surrounded by the dozen flickering points of light that originated from within their room and the brilliant, steady light of the stars beyond. He thought that he had never witnessed anything so beautiful as her abandon, her arms raised so that she could entwine her fingers through his hair and her breasts thrust out before her.
His fingers had become slightly dry, so he slipped them into her for more lubrication. She groaned and ground her hips back against him, and he heard himself groan in response. She began to writhe, and he knew that she was nearing climax, so he pulled her closer and intensified his efforts at stimulation.
Suddenly, she tensed and cried out, her fingers so tight on his skull that he had to struggle to keep his head up. He did not wish to look away from her reflection, however, so he merely tilted his head far enough to preserve his scalp and kept his eyes glued to the window. When she reached orgasm again, throwing her head back and thrusting herself against his hand, the sight of her wild release and the pressure of her body as it rubbed against his groin were almost enough to cause him to lose his own control. He swallowed and wrested his physiological reactions back into place.
He slowed the movement of his fingers to a tender caress and waited for her to open her eyes. Although he was acutely aware of his own need to obtain relief, it had been so long since he had held her like this that he did not wish to rush. Soon, he could stoke her passion again, but for now he would be content to observe her gradual reawakening to her surroundings.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she sagged briefly before she turned in his arms. Rubbing sinuously against him, she murmured, "Carry me to the bed."
He lifted an eyebrow in alarm. "I did not injure you, did I? Are you unable to walk?"
Laughing softly, she said, "No, I just want you to carry me."
"Very well." He lifted her effortlessly in his arms and carried her over to the huge, circular bed positioned directly under the clear portion of the ceiling. "May I ask why?"
"Because it's romantic, Spock. The stars and the candles have put me in a mushy, romantic mood. You probably think I'm silly, but just humor me for a while."
Placing her gently on the bed, he said, "Nyota, at this point I would do anything, and do it eagerly."
When he lowered himself on top of her, she wrapped her limbs around him and rubbed the back of his leg with her own. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into her immediately, to slake his need in her welcoming depths, but instead he summoned his patience and propped himself on his elbows so that he could look into her face. Open, honest love shone from her eyes, and the realization that he could evoke such emotions in this extraordinary woman almost caused his control to slip yet again.
Tracing his jawline with her fingertips, she murmured, "Mmmm... Touch my thoughts, Spock."
"Yes." Finally. He found the contact points and eased himself into her mind. Her thoughts, as always, were cool, calm, soothing, feminine, complex, inspired, confident, deep... So much, so much. He knew that he could explore her mind forever and never discover all there was to learn.
He felt her fingers on his erection as she guided him into her, and soon they were completely joined, mind and body, and moving perfectly in sync with the easy familiarity of comfortable lovers. The last time they had come together, they had both felt a sense of urgency, a pressured need to find their mutual release in passionate haste. Today, however, they took it slowly, fully aware that they had three point five hours to fill with nothing but pleasuring one another.
She ran her fingernails lightly across his back, and he shivered.
Smiling, she murmured, "Did I tickle you?"
"Slightly."
Gradually, his slow, even strokes grew faster and stronger, and he could hear her pant unevenly as she tightened her fingers on his buttocks. Her thoughts, still so clear to him, narrowed and focused on the shared sensations of filling and being filled, impaling and accepting, hardness and softness. The pressure built from deep within them, but he held fast to his control and did not relent.
Holding her securely, he rolled onto his back, and she raised herself so that she sat astride him. When he removed his hand from her face, their mental link diminished but only slightly; once the link was established, each would continue to know the experiences of the other until they reached climax together. Even now, he could feel the moment of sharp discomfort as her body adjusted to their change in placement, and the subsequent increase in her pleasure as she shifted position to better control her own satisfaction.
She continued to ride him until she suddenly threw her head back with an unintelligible shout, and he allowed himself to relinquish his tenuous control. He arched his back and thrust. A remote section of his brain analyzed the increase in her internal body temperature due to the addition of his own heated fluids, but the majority of his attention was focused on every spasm that released his semen into her body.
Finally, she lowered herself until she was draped limply across his chest. Her skin was slightly damp where he stroked her. She was an extremely active sexual partner, and she never failed to exert herself to the point that a light sheen of perspiration would glimmer at her hairline and between her breasts, and often behind her knees and in the crooks of her elbows as well.
In the quietness of the room, his attention was suddenly caught by the frenetic, exuberant beginning of a new musical composition. After the first few notes, he felt a movement against his neck.
"You are smiling at something, Nyota?"
"Yes. This piece." She raised her head slightly, and he could see that she gazed out the window. "L'isle joyeuse."
She met his eyes and whispered, "The Isle of Joy."
End chapter 2