Disclaimer: Aliens can't own Twilight.
7
London, Terra, 2621
Khai was not prone to emotional manifestations of desperation, nor did he possess the tendency to gravitate towards rash decisions. As a Giidas, he was naturally – rather, as natural as possible for one who was genetically manufactured – inclined to marinate in ideas and logic before pursuing a particular path. To be clear in his narration, Khai examined options, details, and deductions before making a decision, and often completed all of these steps in the span of seconds. Terrans deemed him calculating, a descriptor which he could not argue. He was calculating, often ruthlessly so, and lethal, in large part due to these traits, these steps of logical thinking that were innate to his sense of normality. Khai was not desperate, nor was he prone to desperation, or desperate acts.
And yet, he was behaving – feeling, both mentally and physically – desperate.
To begin the diagnosis, his metabolic functions were behaving erratically – heart rate jumping, breathing rate escalating, temperature fluctuating. His physical reflexes were slower by exactly 2.6 percent. His retinas reacted oddly to light, much to his irritation, as he spent the majority of his days enclosed in bright spaces. If he was not completely concentrating on his speech, he found that his words slurred. He could not walk in a perfectly straight line; Khai favored his left side, and began walking near the wall in case he began to feel lightheaded again. If he stood too quickly, he experienced a disorienting flash of black dots in his vision. His mental functions were also compromised; mathematics took more concentration, he lost seconds of time if not carefully monitoring the hour, he was forgetful, and, most unsatisfactorily, the wealth of black emotions was resurfacing. Khai had trouble accessing his bond to Astra.
He was decidedly not well.
And he did not understand why.
Due to his genetic makeup, as well as the gene manipulation that produced his rapid healing factor, Khai's physical health had always been perfect. He had never been sick a day in his life, with exception to injuries, and even then his body rejected any onset of illness. He very simply could not understand what was happening to his body and, therefore, promptly ignored it, assigning his "symptoms" as a psychological phenomenon that obviously stemmed from the unrest he experienced during the nights when he was forced to sleep away from campus and his t'hy'la.
Unless…
It was almost completely against Khai's most logical nature to consider the thought that flashed through his head.
But when he eliminated the impossible, only one solution, regardless of how improbable, remained.
The scientists as the Giidas Science Institute, the emotionless beings who raised him, who altered his body, who recalibrated his mind, who forced him through test after test – they had always maintained that he was superior in every way to a traditional Giidas. He was not normal. Khai was designed to be extraordinary, and with that destiny on his shoulders, he was expected to surpass the genetic malfunctions of his species that held them back from being perfect. In short, what was happening to him was not supposed to happen. The scientists had made it so, and they were encouraged by the Federation, who funded his life from before he was an embryo in a water tank.
Yet, Khai couldn't deny that it was happening, to him, right now, and probably had been happening for some time. He had ignored the signs, holding onto the belief that the scientists who created him knew everything about his genetics, and that they had eliminated that which they set out to eradicate.
They had failed.
And Khai's blood-fever was upon him.
*N*O*V*A*
It was complete.
Astra sat back onto her desk as the Replicator whirred down, arms crossed over her chest, a satisfied smile on her lips. The pile of fabric and metal cooled under her watchful eyes, which flashed bright chartreuse with creativity. She was sure it didn't need to be said, but Astra enjoyed fashion.
Growing up as a gypsy did not afford Astra many opportunities to explore her interests, aside from the li'lute, which she was able to make time for after acquiring the instrument. She was not able to do much but admire the dresses that girls her age wore, especially since she spent her nights stealing food or taking care of Nanini in her later years. When she did need clothing, she stole that, too – and she certainly couldn't afford to be picky with what she was able to obtain. Perhaps that was why her closet was overflowing with Replicated clothing. She was making up for lost time.
It had been a passing comment of Mari'Ahlice's that had planted the idea in Astra's head – which was most likely exactly what the Piarie girl knew would happen. Until that moment, it hadn't occurred to Astra that she could choose what she would wear for her career; after all, most of the Federation officers she had seen tended to stick to one style. Women serving aboard Federation starships were rarer than anyone liked to admit, but after research, Astra had discovered that women were able, if they were so inclined, to design their own commission uniforms. Astra thought it was a novel idea, and one she planned to take advantage of, so long as she followed the strict color regulations.
The Federation, of course, was known galaxy-wide for being the officers in black, much as they were known for their unique architecture and pristine starships. With eager, silver-tipped fingers, Astra allows her sensitive fingers to touch the still-warm fabric of the uniform she designed. She took much care into creating the correct algorithms for the uniform, and had given careful thought to both function and style – in fact, she probably spent just as much time designing her uniform as she did designing her saber.
Had Khai been on campus while that thought crossed her mind, Astra was sure he would have deemed her excitement as fascinating, and the word would have been under toned with a dash of amusement.
She felt her lips pull into a smile – she could predict his thoughts, to a degree, now. She loved that.
Astra carefully places the bundle of fabric onto her clean desk, right next to her silver saber. The designs of both pieces echoed each other as one cohesive thought. Defined. Singular.
Her uniform was composed of four pieces, each serving multiple purposes; anti-gravity boots, laser-repelling tights, armor-reinforced dress, and temperature-controlled cloak. The tights were made of sheer material and layered with randomly sized circles of blunt grey metal, which were lined with the same white-light-reactive-to-blood glowing technology as her saber. The boots were black, knee-high, fitted close to her calves, but heavy and chunky at her feet, smooth without buckles or zippers, the material reinforced with light, protective armor. The jet black dress required the most thought of the uniform, and was cut asymmetrically at the top of her right thigh, the hem tapering over to her left mid-thigh; the bodice of the dress was snug, unforgiving and restraining, designed in an slanted collar, which covered her left shoulder while her right shoulder remained free; the material was soft, but stiff from the plated armor hidden within. The pristine cloak had an asymmetrical silver circular clasp over her left shoulder, the sturdy material hemmed at the top of her knees, the hood deep and domed. Standing in front of her dorm mirror, dressed in her newly Replicated uniform, Astra carefully closed the clasp of her saber-belt, which was silver and draped diagonally across her hips, hanging low and heavy on her left thigh, and stared at herself. With the cloak clasped, it remained closed, and in the mirror, all Astra could see were her boots and her cloak, her face partially hidden in the shadow of the dark hood.
She looked like a Federation Officer – a dangerous one, at that.
And in a few hours, she officially would be.
Today was graduation, which sent a flutter through her stomach. Excitement. She could hardly believe that she had entered and graduated from the Academy in under a year, but it was real and she was ready.
She exhales heavily, tucking the fine silver of her new li'lute case into one of the cloak's interior pockets, along with her pocket-com, her hand unconsciously checking for the reassuring weight of her saber strapped onto her person, and turns for the door, intent on waiting for her roommates – and friends – in the living room.
Rosy, who Astra had noticed was perpetually punctual, was already waiting. Like Astra and Mari'Ahlice, Rosy had designed the sleek black jumpsuit that composed her uniform, which covered her body from neck to wrist to ankle – not that it was modest in anyway, given how tight the material was. She accented the grease-repellant jumpsuit with clunky anti-gravity boots and a sturdy black utility belt, which hung low on her hips and buckled with a single silvery square clasp. Rosy's long, curly blond hair was pulled into a high tail on the top of her head and, for the first time in a month, her face was free of grease.
"Ready?"
"Waiting on the princess," Rosy replies, absently tinkering with one of the zippers on her belt. "I got a message from Lieutenant Angela, earlier. She's testing out my warp core design today. I wish I could be there."
Astra offers a smile. "That's wonderful, Rosy."
"It wouldn't have ever happened without you, Astra," Rosy replies sincerely, the corners of her golden-copper eyes crinkling as she smiles. "My design would still be in the dark. But you passed my name along. I can't ever thank you enough."
"Don't mention it."
Mari'Ahlice eventually emerges from her heavily incense-smoked room, the silver circlet on her head decorated with more bells than normal. Astra thinks that seeing Mari'Ahlice in black was a little out of place, though Ahlice more than made up for the oddity by the flowing, billowing fabric of her own uniform and the thin spikes of the heels of her shoes. "I am not a princess," she tells Rosy immediately, knowingly. "Shall we go?"
Rosy rolls her eyes. "I can research, you know. That thing on your head is a symbol of-"
Ahlice shakes her head. "It is mere formality," she insists. "Come. We will be late."
"Wouldn't have been late if you didn't take your sweet time getting ready," Rosy grouses, much to Astra's amusement.
It isn't until Astra – along with the rest of the graduating class – is sitting in the front row of chairs placed in the square courtyard that she feels the silvery bond in her mind shimmer with Khai's arrival.
He was nearly late. That wasn't like him.
In fact, for the last four days, Khai hadn't been quite himself – there was something…untamed about his mind, something he was hiding from her for whatever reason. She didn't pry, content in knowing that if he wanted to share whatever it was with her, that he would in his own time. Still, she did wonder why that swirling mass of black emotion seemed to be waiting on the sidelines of their bond as she sent a wave of love towards Khai, who responded immediately, his own thoughts crashing over her like a tidal wave. T'hy'la. Can smell her from here. Must wait.
Khai?
The response she receives is not words, but a barely restrained growl. Astra shivers and risks a glance towards the faculty, where Khai is standing close to the shadow beneath a tree, hands clasped behind his head, face utterly impassive except for the flaring of his angular nose.
Astra turns her eyes forward, brows furrowed in confusion. As far as she knew, as far as anyone knew given how secretive the Giidas society was in general, Astra was sure that the Giidas race had eradicated the primal urges from their species a thousand years ago. And yet, Khai was behaving decidedly primal.
She didn't know what to make of it, and the theories building in her mind kept her distracted until the graduation ceremony began.
Admiral Caius, the Falleen that had promoted her to a third year status, stood at a translucent podium, posture as stiff and perfect as Khai's, dressed in a silver-star decorated black uniform. "Cadets," he greets, waiting as all the standing cadets salute him in synch. "At ease. Please be seated. We have gathered here today to usher in the newest members of the Federation and, in many cases, the most promising Ensigns the Federation has ever seen…"
Astra is in a state between disbelief and excitement as Admiral Caius' speech continues. She'd truly done it, finished her education, was almost reaching the stars – and she had Khai to thank for it. If he'd never mistaken her for hypnotizing the audience in Cairo, if he'd never chased her down and tackled her onto the sand dunes, she wouldn't be here right now. And, really, it was fate, because all those months ago, Astra was ready to move on from Cairo; in fact, on that day, it was a spur of the moment decision to play the li'lute in the outdoor market. She didn't know if she should thank a higher power or mathematical probabilities, but her life changed the second Khai laid eyes on her, and had been changing ever since. There were missing puzzle pieces – like her parents and why she was a hybrid – but she was confident that, with time, the answers would reveal themselves.
If only she'd known that the answers would come in a neat little package, in the heat of a moment too big to contain.
Astra, having no last name, was one of the first to receive her graduation chip from one of the Admiralty secretaries, along with a pat on the shoulder from Admiral Caius, who had been informed on her half-Giidas nature and took care to avoid touching her hands. "We will see great things from you, I'm sure," he tells her, his slit Falleen eyes tracking the nod of her head.
Astra exits the stage, tucking her graduation chip into the pocket of her cloak, eyes seeking out her friends, and then subtly looking towards Khai. Just as she registers his disappearance, the growl of his voice echoes in her mind, vibrating their bond, and she receives the barest impression of an address, along with a silent prod that she was to meet him there. Looking out at the crowd, Astra sits back down and waits, rather impatiently, for the ceremony to end, though she does clap for her friends as they receive their own graduation chips – she even lingers until the crowd breaks up so that she can exchange a hug with Ja'asper, Mari'Ahlice and Rosy.
And then, as soon as she is sure she can, Astra slinks through the thinning crowd and boards a hover bus to West London, where she follows a tiny tug in her mind that acts as a map. Though he is not speaking to her, Astra is aware of Khai's looming presence in her mind, silently guiding her off the correct stop, onto the precise streets, and into the quaint, remodeled townhouse, which was broken up into two apartments. Khai's door, which was made of wood, was painted a muted red and opened before she had a chance to knock on it.
Astra isn't sure how it happens, but one moment, her face is pulling into a smile, and the next, her back is against a wall, the door is slammed, and Khai's face is pressed into the skin of her neck, hands kneading at her hips as her cloak flutters to the ground.
T'hy'lasmellssogoodmusthavecan'twaitburningburning burning.
Khai?
Burningburningmusthavet'hy'laburning.
His teeth sink into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but with enough pressure to distract her from his unhinged thoughts. His hands are sliding firmly on her body, cupping her breasts, roaming over her shoulders, squeezing her behind as he pulses his hips against her own.
His t'hy'la smells so good, so ripe, like honey and tea and fertility and he must have her or he feels like he will die and wither away into nothing and he will not leave her and sheishearingthesethoughtsknowsthatIamburningt'hy'l aIneedIneedIneed.
Yes, Khai. Take. Please.
As soon as her consent leaves the confines of her mind, Khai hauls her body up against his own; her legs wrap tightly around his narrow hips as he simultaneously walks deeper into his home and buries his lips against her throat, and then her back is on a gel-bed and Khai is grinding his hardness into the very place that aches for him.
It's as if the fire in his mind travels across their bond, because Astra, too, begins to burn in the most pleasantly torturous way. Her skin is ultra-sensitive as Khai drags her uniform off her body, carelessly tossing the clothing onto the floor along with his own. He growls at the tights and boots, tugging harshly on them and then pressing his open mouth onto the smooth skin of her newly revealed legs. His kisses continue up the inside of her thigh until he reaches her sex and her moistened underwear, which he promptly rips off, snarling in pleasure at the sight of her exposed nether-lips. He leans forward, hot breath ghosting across her most secret place, before he looks up, eyes caught between the blown-wide blackness of his pupils, and the violet of his lust.
Khai slithers up her body, pausing to drop a suckling kiss onto her exposed breast, just sky of her nipple, his eyes unblinking on hers, his mind loud with static and burning as he reaches for her hand.
Their first kiss is ardent – teeth clashing, no more than an exchange of primal passion, an acknowledgement of the event on the horizon. He pulls away first, lilac heat on the tips of his pointed ears, high in his cheeks, present in the flush of his lips, and she, with fair lily-white skin, appears positively ravished, lush lips swollen, silvery eyes dunked in deep violet lust and glazed, dazed. Only a fracture of space separated their skin, lips barely brushing as they breathed in tandem. Exchanging heated breath, unblinking, with hair standing on edge as static telepathic nerves erupted beneath the surface of their palms, which were pressed together in quite a vulgar arrangement, fingers intertwined.
And then, so tenderly it seemed unreal in comparison to the barely-caged beast lingering in his conscious, Khai closed the gap between himself and his t'hy'la, gently gaining access to the soft month of the omnilinguist.
For a long time, that is the last tender moment they exchange, because Khai is back to burning, demanding, controlling her body. He is so much larger than she is, physically overpowering her with longer limbs and a heavier frame. He separates their palms, smoothing his hands over her breasts to squeeze and pull, his lips following to tug mercilessly on her nipples, her own hands pressing against the back of his neck until he moves down her body and she must grip the blankets beneath her back to hold on to some part of the real world. Khai forces her legs apart, spreading them as far as he is able, and pressing her knees towards her chest so that his lips and tongue can meet the sweetness of her slick flesh. Astra's back arches and she releases a startled cry as his tongue ruthlessly flicks against the berry-red nub between her legs; he seems to know, instinctively, exactly how to play her body, almost as well as she can play her li'lute.
Khai's mouth is only a warm up to the careful way he prepares her body for the intrusion of his own. As she is writhing on the brink of orgasm, he presses his most telepathic fingers inside the slickness of her entrance, curling them towards her belly and sending pulses of pure pleasure directly from his mind into her body. Astra screams from the orgasm, which never seems to end as Khai continues pumping his fingers, twisting, adding another, sending another jolt of pleasure from telepathic nerves, dragging both her mind and her body down a blinding path until all of her limbs are shaking and she feels completely strung out, unable to count how many orgasms she'd just experienced or how long it had gone on.
Her eyes, heavy-lidded, open when she feels him shift on the bed until his hips are pressed between her legs, his hardness rubbing against her still-convulsing core. T'nash-veh, his mind tells her as he growls against her skin, teeth scraping against the side of her neck. Mineminemineminemine.
Yes, I do belong to you, she answers, reaching for him, dizzy from pleasure but still burning for his body and mind.
Slowly, almost cruelly slow, Khai presses the blunt tip of his sex into her opening, stretching her in such away that Astra is torn between smiling and crying. He is so large that, despite how well he prepared her, the searing burn is a healthy dose of reality. He growls, snarls, hisses, and thrusts harshly, sinking in all the way, his hips flush against hers, waiting for a brief second before pulling out a bit and setting a spine-tingling pace. Astra clutches his shoulders, steals the breath from his lungs as he possesses her.
And that was what it was. Possession.
There was no other way to describe it, the burning, the need she felt from him, the black swirl of violent emotions that only calmed marginally and only for a moment each time Khai released deep in her body. He had her any way he could; on her back, on her stomach, her side, Astra on top, against the wall, bent over the bed, sobbing another orgasm out as his teeth sunk repeatedly into the mark he'd first made on her neck. He had her until she was mindless from the pleasure, shrieking as her body fluttered and clenched around his own, her lily-white skin flushed lilac all over, her telekinesis uncontrolled to such a degree that objects around the room float in mid-air. He had her, still growling and snarling and thinking minet'nash-vehminemine, until his seed coated the inside of her thighs as thoroughly as it did coat the inside of her womb. He had her as the sun set, and then rose and set again. He had her, took her, possessed her, until her nipples and lips were bruised and swollen from attention, until her neck boasted a blue-purple bruise in the shape of his teeth and mouth, until the outline of his hands on her lips was shadowed onto her skin, and her voice was hoarse from calling his name out.
Only then, when Astra was completely exhausted, body clenching around hair as he pulled out, did Khai stop.
With such gentleness that was a juxtaposition from the way he'd had her the last twenty-four hours, Khai curled his t'hy'la against his chest and covered them with heavy blankets, their bond thrumming and complete, the chains reinforced with cable-wire steel.
"Adun'a," he murmurs, one hand curled around her spine, the other pressing her hand against his heart.
A/N: Adun'a means wife in Vulcan, just so you all know (check the Vulcan Language Directory on Google). And, normal chapter length! I have finals next week, but I should be able to update by next Sunday *fingers crossed*
Shout out to the first ten reviews (plus guests) of the last chapter –
Snippets Of Whimsy – Astra is turning out super cool, right? Lol
Pumpkinmykitty – Did this chapter get a WHOA, too?
CdrIvanova - *zips lips*
LunaDiSangue85 – I think that's about it for the abilities lol For now, at least!
RainDanceTammy – Stay on your toes!
YesMyRealNameIsBella – Youuuuuuuu!
mommymac0508 – Will someone come looking? I can't say!
boo1414 – Interaction delivered! ;)
mmsinful – LOL If only, right?
AliCat0623 – Well, no sabers this chapter ;)
Guest – Emet's pick up line was the worst, right? Lol
Guest – You might be right about Astra!
Merylin – Your guess is so close!
Le Crepuscule – Be lazy more often! Lol
Nalia-R – Yep, that's Astra. Breaking people's wrists like it doesn't even matter.
Leslie E – Dude! Grey/blue eyes are so cool and YOU are so lucky! I've got some weird dark brown/green eyes, like a swamp!
Super special shout out to the first review of the last chapter – mamacat20 – Right now, I have this story at roughly 60 chapters, but that is subject to change!
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~cupcakeriot
P.S – Blood fever is English for plak-tow, which is also a Vulcan thing. Khai basically just had the Giidas version of pon farr (mostly because I couldn't resist)!
