Spock believed they were at an impasse.
Michael was used to getting her way.
She wasn't sure why Spock was making it so hard on himself. Surprisingly, after all the strife of youth, the animosity of their teenage years, and the competition that Starfleet had instilled in them, all ending in a silence between siblings that had lasted years, he wanted her and she wanted him, yet he continued to deny himself any happiness, and not solely out of concern for their friends and colleagues, nor out of worry for what their mother and father might think, but what Michael had to conclude was out of sheer stubbornness. As he held her hands, he kept his mind open to her, which was a rare and beautiful thing in and of itself. Holding his hand was good for this, but touching his face, his cheek, his forehead, would be even better. Their connection was still very strong, even though many years had passed since they had practiced touch telepathy as children.
Michael could sense Spock's inner turmoil, his unwillingness to let her go and, equally, his unwillingness to let her stay. There was exhaustion in his voice, and she felt an ache in his body that had nothing to do with emotion, and everything to do with falling from a ceiling earlier that day. Frankly, he was just tired and wanted nothing more than to take Michael to bed with him, to curl up in her sweet touch and sleep forever.
"Then why push me away?" she asked aloud. He remained silent. Michael huffed a sigh through her nose, shook her head at his obstinance and changed tactics. "Why didn't you let Dr. Pollard check you out this morning? Why are you still in pain?"
"It is nothing," he answered. "It is bearable."
"You know," she began, "I could help. I have some experience with Vulcan massage."
"Really?" Spock raised a skeptical and somewhat disapproving eyebrow. "You do know that Vulcan massage parlors are disreputable establishments and are not considered an appropriate place of education or recreation for the ward of an ambassador?"
"So, I take it you've never been to one?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her tone.
"Of course not," he replied, clearly taking offense.
"Hey," she laughed, hands up in defense. "Don't knock it 'til you try it. The practice has merit, even if it is considered…unorthodox by some."
They hadn't yet moved farther into Spock's room and Michael felt as if she were now walking a tightrope. Spock was dangerously close to calling it a night and showing her to the door, but his curiosity was keeping him distracted at the moment.
"And, may I ask? How did you find yourself at a Vulcan massage parlor? Did you actually subject yourself to this… ritual?" Spock curled his lip in distaste.
"When I first joined Starfleet, we had shore leave on Vulcan," Michael began as she stepped around Spock and further into the room. "I went with a friend who swore by the massage's healing qualities. I warned him that the parlors were viewed by most Vulcans as no better than whorehouses, but he swore it was better than any chiropractor on Earth. So we went, and I can verify that he was not wrong. The massage uses energy and synergy, heat and hands and bodies. I felt like a new woman when I climbed back aboard my ship."
"And did they offer you sexual favors, as well?" Spock asked, and she couldn't know how he really felt about the idea since she had let go of his hand.
"You get what you pay for, Spock," she laughed. "I paid for a massage only." He nodded, and even without touching him she could see the relief in his eyes. "Would you like to try it now?"
Lifting his chin, he straightened his spine, going rigid at her request, but he kept his eyes on her as he considered her offer. "And would we have to undress?" he asked, clasping his hands behind his back, his tone surprisingly even though his indecision rolled off of him in waves.
"That is the traditional way." Michael decided Spock could not be trusted to make the decision that would suit her, and thought maybe it would be better if she took charge of the situation. She stepped right up to him and tentatively reached up to place her hands on his shoulders. He did nothing to relax his stance, but remained still, wary. "Computer," she called softly. "Dim cabin lights to twenty percent." The overhead lights faded instantly to a muted warm glow. She gave him a confident smile as she slid her hands softly up and over the sides of his neck, and she felt an unexpected relief at feeling his skin again, letting his expectant anticipation wash over her. She wanted to kiss him again, but refrained, instead she slowly unzipped Spock's Starfleet uniform shirt, giving him ample time to change his mind. When she met no protest, she slipped the material off his shoulders, down his arms, and he let it drop to the floor. Dark hair covered his chest, thinning to a single line that ran down to his belly button and disappeared into his pants.
"May I?" she asked, moving to unbutton his pants. He cocked an eyebrow, but nodded an affirmative. His waist was thin, his legs lined with lean muscle, and as she pushed his pants to the floor, she couldn't help but notice that Spock did not wear traditional Vulcan underwear, but Starfleet issue briefs. He toed out of his shoes and stepped out of his pants.
Taking his hand, she pulled him toward the bed. "Sit," she said. He perched himself stiffly on the very edge of the bed, and she had to urge him to scoot back, just enough so that the backs of his calves were touching the side of the mattress, his feet firmly planted on the floor. Michael knelt before him and Spock looked momentarily concerned for his virtue. "Try to relax," she smiled, merely reaching for his feet to remove his socks.
Stepping back, Michael drank in the sight of her beautiful brother who had grown into this desirable man while they'd been apart. Michael toed out of her own shoes and took her socks off, throwing them in a haphazard pile to mingle with Spock's on the floor. She had his full attention as she pulled her uniform shirt over her head and her pants down her hips. She, too, wore Starfleet issue underwear. These were not sexy, but functional, and came in colors of black, nude, and white. It didn't matter. She could see the wonder in Spock's eyes at her near nakedness.
He practically drank in the sight of her feminine form, and his lips parted to heave a stuttered sigh when she reached behind her back to pull at the clasps that held her bra closed. She shrugged out of the black garment and adeptly pulled it off to join the pile of discarded clothes. It was never easy to be totally bare in front of someone for the first time. Heart racing with sudden nervousness, she inhaled a deep calming breath and walked toward him. "Ready?" she asked quietly.
Spock's gaze swept silently over her, from her legs to her belly, lingering a moment longer on her breasts, then up to her mouth, then back to her breasts. As she came within arm's length, he reached out for her, took her by the waist and practically dragged her to stand between his legs, burying his face into her soft belly, nuzzling there like a small child. She immediately felt his desire to be comforted by a lover, how he wanted someone to love him, how he wanted Michael, in particular, to love him, but deeper, there was the nuance of needing the acceptance and assurance an older sister might give a cherished sibling. She stroked his hair, running her fingertips over his scalp, holding him there while he just breathed her in, trying valiantly to rein in his emotions. A long moment later, his grip on her loosened and he nodded, his forehead still pressed in to her skin. "You may begin," he said, looking up at her, his voice low and gravelly. Oh, how he rarely let himself feel so much.
Michael climbed onto him to straddle his lap, letting her legs bend and rest alongside his. She made sure that her body connected to his in as many ways as possible, her chest pressed to his, her soft stomach touching his harder torso, her pelvis resting over his. Once again, he looked disquieted and fidgeted. "Are you uncomfortable?" she asked, holding on to his shoulders while she got herself balanced.
"What should I do with my hands?" he asked.
She couldn't help but smirk. "You can put them anywhere you want." He fluttered them around until landing them safely over her hips, and she welcomed the heat of his palms. It was a very intimate position, one she had rarely been in, and her thoughts on the matter caused his already rigid member to pulse against her soft heat. She attempted to ignore it, placed her thumbs onto his forehead and recited the words to initiate the Vulcan massage rite.
"Spock," she said softly. "All living things are composed of energy. It is what makes up our heat, our electrical impulses, our chemical reactions. It is what makes up our potential. Close your eyes, and open your mind and your body to the energy that runs between us. My energy is strong. My spirit is strong. Do you feel my energy?"
"I do," Spock answered, and Michael, too, was overly aware of the electricity that sparked between them.
"I feel your energy and your pain. You will give me your pain and I will restore your energy. I will restore your spirit." As she said this she dragged her thumbs over his eyebrows, into his hair, then pressed her palms across his shoulders. Keeping their bodies close, she reached her arms around him to run her hands along the length of his spine, shutting her eyes to concentrate, finding just the right spot that would help ease his pain. When she reached his lower back, there was a tenseness in the muscles there, and his body jerked slightly as she pressed her fingers into the painful knot. Working from the center of the pain, she pulled her palms outward, maintaining pressure on his muscles as if transferring the pain away. She continued this slow process of pulling and pushing across his body, finally pressing the bad energy down the muscles of his arms and out of his fingertips, until she could feel him begin to relax.
"I have taken your pain," she recited. She climbed off his lap and crawled onto the bed to sit behind him. He turned to look at her curiously as she spread her legs around him, scooting to sit as close to him as she had been before, only on the backside now. Once again, she bent her legs alongside his, her pelvis to his lower back, her chest to his back. "I will restore your energy. I will restore your spirit," she repeated the words, reaching her arms around him to start once again at his forehead, but paying close attention this time to his temples, his cheekbones, his jawline, moving her fingers over his collarbones and shoulders, all the while letting the heat of her body suffuse his with healing energy.
It would be a complete lie to say that Michael did not enjoy how the soft hair of his chest felt under her fingertips or when her palms, brushing over his nipples, caused them to become erect, and the feel of them sliding past the sensitive skin between her fingers had her pressing her cheek, her lips, into his back, her own nipples puckering painfully in response. His hands rested on her legs, but he wasn't idle. He squeezed along her calves, traced the curve of her knees and reached behind him, grabbing her thighs and tugging her closer to him, if that was possible.
She could feel his arousal at her intimate touch, a perfect echo of her own. It took all of her concentration to focus on the massage. She pressed fingers deep into his solar plexus, down his middle, around his belly button, then splayed her fingers along his hips, over his briefs, and down as far as she could reach over his thighs, making a return trip back up his body, then down again. This time —she couldn't help herself, not when, with their bodies pressed so close together, she knew all of his desires— her hands lingered at his hips, pushing at the waistband of his underwear, following the trail of hair down…
Spock turned on her so suddenly she could not remember exactly how it happened. One minute she was pressed flush against his back, and the next she was pinned to the bed under his weight, face to face with his flushed gaze, his waist nestled snugly between her thighs. "Michael," he said, or asked, she didn't know, but she had no words just then, only an eclipse of their combined emotion that darkened all their inhibition and made their edges shine blindingly bright.
So instead, she answered him with a luxurious kiss, all soft lips and tongues and breath. He slid his hand along the outside of her spread thigh, up her side to touch her breast, to hold it and squeeze it. Ducking his head down, Spock placed his warm mouth over her areola, suckling gently and Michael arched into every one of his touches. "More," she murmured into his temple as he trailed kisses over her chest, her neck, her collarbones.
He rocked his pelvis experimentally against hers, and she could feel the length of him easily through her panties, making Michael catch her breath and Spock to let out a short groan into her neck. "Yes," he agreed. "It appears that it is impossible to keep anything from you that you have your heart set on. You are a stubborn creature." He sat back on his knees to see her clearly. "Though I would prefer a more permanent solution…I am willing to try, if you are?" He had conceded defeat under her willfulness and he sensed her jubilation at this, letting it infect him with happiness instead of resentment or rivalry. Leaning down on his forearms again, nose buried into her neck and mouthing kisses up to her ear, he said playfully, "I guess you win."
"It isn't a competition, but you should know, I always do," drawled Michael, heavy with satisfaction, a smile and a tease in her voice, "and look at my beautiful prize." She brought his face to hers again to kiss his lips.
Spock huffed a laugh of wonder through his nose at her sweet sentiment. "You must be careful what you wish for. I cannot promise things will be easy for us."
"When are things ever easy?" she replied. She rolled her hips up into his pelvis, reminding him of the pleasure to be found in her body. "I want this…with you. Make love to me now and we'll figure the rest out later."
He tugged her panties off in a tangle of legs, and then laughter, when Michael reminded him that he needed to take off his underwear, too. As soon as he was naked, he grabbed the back of her knee, spreading her leg wide, pushing into her without anymore hesitation.
Reveling in her complete warmth and softness, and the way her body and soul seemed to surround him, he moved his body with hers, slowly at first. It was all so strange and sudden. They'd each yearned for a better relationship over the years in one way or another, but circumstances always pulled them apart. Maybe they were never meant to be brother and sister to one another, but more. Michael couldn't help but wonder how long her brother had harbored these feelings for her, and if she had known sooner, what might their lives have been like? Spock knew her, had known her for most of his life. He'd listed her strengths and the qualities that he admired most in her, but what about her many failures? Michael had disappointed so many people she cared about in the past, including Spock. She could be stubborn and headstrong. What if she wound up further damaging her already unstable brother? All she wanted for him was his happiness, had been striving these last few weeks to help him find it. Doubt filled her. What if, even with her best intentions, she eventually became a disappointment to him?
Spock had pressed himself all the way inside her and tilted his hips shallowly. His eyes were closed and he was concentrating hard on controlling his movements. She had been so turned on already that no matter what he did, it was feeling good, and she was ridiculously close to orgasm, though they'd only just started. "You are worried that I will not be pleased," he stated, out of the blue. Once again, he was reading her too closely, almost as if she were speaking out loud when she wasn't. Not being Vulcan herself, she could only receive vague pictures and general ideas, only sense his feelings, and even then, it was only because he let her. "That is illogical," he answered her unspoken insecurities. "I am here with you because I choose to be. The only way you could displease me is to leave me now. Here," he said, and he entwined his fingers with hers, pinning her hands to the mattress. "Feel."
What she was sensing from him before had only been a gentle stream, but now he tore down the dam he'd built and let the flood wash over her. She felt everything he felt, layered on top of everything she could actually feel, physically and emotionally. With each stroke, Spock felt nothing but pleasure, the kind that builds, anticipatory, until he was anxious for it, while simultaneously never wanting it to end. He spoke the truth about his feelings for her. He was enamored, completely in love with her and though he was aware of her tendency to be reckless and willful, he admired her for it. It made her want to please him all the more, made her afraid she would fall short of his expectations. He growled at her, "Michael!"
He thrust faster now, letting his torso weigh heavy on her, squeezing her hands then pulling them around his neck, driving out any negative thoughts until all she could feel was him and his pleasure. It was too much and their mixed sensations threatened to overwhelm her. It brought her quickly to climax and she cried out his name as she came, part plea to save her from this rushing torrent, as her womb contracted powerfully, causing all of her muscles to tremble along with it. He was too close to her, surrounding her in every way. She couldn't breathe, couldn't catch her breath, but also couldn't let him go as she clutched him even tighter. She turned her face to the side to gasp for air and he pressed his mouth to her cheek. Slowing his momentum until he was barely moving, Michael felt his mind drift away from her to a general sense of family, to their shared mother and father, to duty and responsibility. It confused Michael, though it was a welcome respite from the torrential outpouring of emotion she'd experienced a moment before. She'd been severely out of control and Spock was calming her efficiently, almost too well. They were far from over.
"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.
"I am attempting to redirect my thoughts. I do not wish for this to be over so soon. Feeling your pleasure almost proved too much for me," he admitted.
Michael quirked a half smile. "Don't," she urged. "It's okay to let go. Don't hold back." He ignored her completely and she felt his thoughts drift ominously toward the red angel. Time to take matters into her own hands. She pushed at his shoulders and he immediately sat back, unsure what she wanted or if he had hurt her. She followed him up, scrambling to her knees while he looked on in confusion. She pressed her body into him, kissing him hard, urging him to lay back so that he was under her.
Lifting her leg over his waist, Michael wasted no time reaching between them, to hold his erection firmly as she lowered herself onto him. They had been apart for only a few seconds, less than a minute, really, but already the relief that washed over her at their rejoining was a heady thing. Was it some sort of Vulcan magic? A bonding? God, what had she gotten herself into?
She started with a quick pace, one that had her thighs burning with exertion, but the small pain was worth the pleasure that was pouring from Spock now. There was no way he could think of anything but her, not with her breasts bouncing and her slick core tight around him, stroking him closer to the finish line each second. "Please…Michael," he begged. She was unsure what he wanted, could only feel the escalating pleasure, threatening to topple them both over the edge any second, because if he fell over he would surely take her with him. He wanted her to slow down, grasped at her sides, her hips, but said to her anyways, pleaded with her against his will, "Do not stop." His hands drifted over her hips, her sides, landing on her breasts to take one in each hand to rub his thumbs over her nipples. She covered his hands with hers, pressing him harder into her, forcing him to squeeze her, and she wondered at the contrast of his light skin against her brown and she thought it was beautiful. Pulling at her hands, he encouraged her down to him, splaying both his hands over her lower back to slow her movements. "Kiss me," he said, searching her eyes and her lips, logic be damned, and the kiss was messy, breathy, mouths wet and wanting.
Once again, with a single deft maneuver, one that she possibly recognized from martial arts training, Spock was back on top. He cradled her neck with a forearm, his other hand wrapped tightly around her thigh that she had wrapped around him. He slowed even more, his strokes long and deep and Michael thought she might catch on fire from the friction of their coupling. Their breaths mixed in the close space between them, peppered with the low, sensual sounds of their love making. Spock whispered her name several times, kissing across her cheekbones and she could feel the final escalation of his stimulation sweep through his body. When electricity rushed down his spine and out through his digits, she felt it exactly, along with the raising of goosebumps across her arms and breasts, and her muscles tensed right along with Spock's. Michael closed her eyes tight, threaded her fingers over his cheeks and into his hair, bracing herself against the barrage of Spock's fevered consciousness. He was so close, so close, and she felt the rush of his pleasure rising in her. "Oh God, oh God…" she breathed, until, with an unrestrained cry, Spock ejaculated powerfully and hedonistically, and Michael's body surrendered reflexively to his for a second time with a fierce contracting of her womb, his warm seed filling her and spilling out around their joined bodies.
Spock laid heavily over her, unwilling to relinquish this moment of connection with her, and she welcomed his weight with light caresses, fingers pulled through hair and soft shapes drawn over shoulders. "Michael," he murmured again in her ear. "T'hyla." Michael's heart fluttered at this intimate Vulcan word for lover. He was drunk on the afterglow of sex and it affected her similarly. They were each satisfied and sated and gratified, and neither dwelled on what the consequences of their most recent actions might be as they carefully rearranged themselves under the covers.
There was no question of whether Michael would stay, because there was no way Spock was going to let her out of arm's reach, at least for a while. It didn't matter. She couldn't stand the idea of going back to her quarters to be alone in her bed, not when she'd just shared Spock's mind for the better part of an hour, so both were content with the current situation.
"Computer?" Spock said quietly. "Lights out." He tucked her into his side and, keeping his mind open to her, they drifted in and out of each other's dreams all night.