Osmosis – a STXI fanfic
Ch. 14 :Half Taken
…
Warnings this chapter: some sexual interaction, chapter length (7K word count)
It is the same in love as in war; a fortress that parleys is half taken.
- Marguerite de Valois / Marguerite de France, 1553 1615
Town Hall, Port Town
Planet Alpha Cachette, JoBakair planetary system
Late afternoon/early evening
"Uh, Uhura?" Jim said in a low voice, hoping not to be overheard by the assembled dignitaries gathered beneath the curving roof of an open-sided structure in the Town Hall gardens. Other Enterprise crew entered the gardens, first passing through a main building ornamented with curved colored glass shapes in tones of deep pink, maroon, purplish-brown, and black.
"Yes, Captain?" Nyota kept her expression neutral. After the afternoon's swim dress episode she'd chosen a more alluring evening look: a comfortable but flattering sleeveless orange dress and dangling earrings. Spock had actually looked relieved. Handsome in his blue dress jacket, he circulated with local dignitaries a few meters away, fielding inquiries about New Vulcan. Nyota considered rescuing him.
Jim, looking handsome in a different way in his gold jacket, asked: "Those vulva pendants people are wearing...do you recall from the cultural dossier exactly what they indicate?"
Nyota was bemused to see Jim so self-conscious, considering how much genitalia he'd dealt with. "Yes, Captain. They're indications of a political or sociological point of view. The wearers have an interest in protecting women's quality of life."
"So if they wear the pendant, does that mean they're all straight, or lesbian if women are wearing them?"
Of course; he's looking for company. Nyota tried to reply without judgment. "Not necessarily. In the past, people wore the vulva symbols as a sign that they're willing to be intimate with women, though perhaps not exclusively. However, according to the cultural dossier that particular custom's defunct. Now the pendant doesn't indicate orientation. Pansexual expressions and interactions are common on Alpha Cachette, but sexuality isn't openly discussed in most social contexts unless it's for education."
"Really? That's odd, considering that we're surrounded by..." Jim glanced down at the mosaic flooring beneath their feet. Tiles in shades of dark rose, purple, and black formed a large image of abstract labia – and more - on the floor of the huge circular patio. "Um, yeah. I understand. Thank you, Lieutenant."
Donstelralth and the apprentices admired the tiles.
"This is fine work. The surface appears remarkably smooth and level." Serran bent and rubbed his fingers across the tiles.
"At least two coats of finishing sealant, I think," Stelen said.
"Perhaps it would be profitable to offer mosaic services on New Vulcan," the elder Vulcan mused. "One could spell out verses from Surak's teachings in colorful Vulcan script." He looked pleased, and almost smiled. "Our experience, though difficult, has led us in creative directions, gentlemen. We shall return to New Vulcan with fine wood supplies and new business ideas. Perhaps it was not so terrible to be stranded."
…
As a man of science, Dr. Leonard McCoy regarded psychic phenomena with skepticism. As a Southerner raised by tender-hearted folk, he was sensitive to human responses. He could almost see nervous energy radiating from Jim as he watched Mayor Aurelia Tutto speak to her aides before crossing the room to greet the Enterprise bridge crew.
Age was sometimes difficult to place among non-Terran humanoids; the woman might have been anywhere between forty-five and sixty, depending upon chronological variations. She was attractive, confident, vibrant. Smooth skin in some places, light lines in others. She carried it all gracefully. Under different circumstances McCoy might have asked her to dinner himself.
Beside him, the fabric of Jim's dress jacket rustled as he crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, impatiently waiting to launch himself at his prey. If this hadn't been a matriarchal society and Jim a Starfleet Captain, the younger man might have simply run after the Mayor, thrown her over his shoulder, and carried her off.
"Easy there, Jim," McCoy said. "You can't have everything."
"I know," Jim replied. "Sometimes I want everything. I just want to hear her say 'yes'. "
How would it feel to be the object of such focused lust? McCoy wondered, quickly dismissing the thought. He distracted Jim with work talk, lowering his voice. "Say, Jim, when we meet tomorrow I need to discuss a personnel issue with you. I've got concerns about a promotion that may have happened too quickly." He tilted his head toward Ensign Steap, moodily nursing a glass of pale green liqueur several meters away.
At the mention of Enterprise matters, Jim's demeanor calmed and he responded quietly. "Steap? He's very capable, excellent skills, good background. We may disagree on this, Bones, but yes, let's discuss the pros and cons."
"Good evening, officers. I trust you are comfortable at this gathering?" Mayor Tutto's voice was welcoming, low, and sensual. She spoke Federation Standard with a lilt of the primary local accent. The Enterprise crew responded to her warmth, officers and crew surging forward to greet her and thank her for her hospitality.
Jim's own greeting was formal, accompanied by a flirtatious version of the Kirk Smile. He knew that he stared and risked offense, but he wanted her to see him. Amid the buzz of conversation, Mayor Tutto stared back. Her assessing gaze swept over his blushing face and down his legs.
A light sweat prickled over his chest, which the Mayor seemed to measure with her gaze before making eye contact again.
What's happening here? He'd been in combat situations where an opponent sized him up with two, four, or eight eyes. The Mayor wasn't going to hit him, but some other challenge presented itself. Seduction? Desire? Rejection?
Aurelia Tutto turned to respond to some pleasantries voiced by Sulu and Scotty, and the way that the smooth fabric of her dress draped over her breasts made him stare a few seconds too long. She moved again and the open side seam of her skirt revealed a shapely, muscled calf. Perhaps she rode bicycles like much of the population, hiked the distant rolling mountains, or stripped off her clothes to swim in the rivers leading to the sea.
Jim moved closer, listened to her make some astute observation about Starfleet. A waitperson approached with a tray of drinks. Jim retrieved two glasses, thanking the tray bearer with his best Midwestern manners, and offered one of the glasses to Mayor Tutto. His fingertips slid against hers as he handed her the glass, accidentally on purpose. She didn't flinch at his touch. As she sipped her drink, she eyed him over the rim.
Maybe I shouldn't do this, but if she wants...
Most of his old buddies on Earth would have sneered at the idea of flirting with the Mayor. Too bad; their loss. Jim had realized how little they had left in common during his last visit home to Iowa. He wasn't a boy anymore. He liked being a man.
Sulu asked Mayor Tutto about the local ecosystem, and she broke eye contact with Jim to answer in detail. McCoy gave Jim a warning look, interrupting his admiration of the Mayor. Jim shrugged and smiled innocently, easing himself back into the general conversation.
"Your honor, I'd be glad to provide general information about the Enterprise. You understand that information related to our present technical and logistical review is confidential, but I can offer you other things."
"Thank you, Captain Kirk. It is good of you to be generous with your time." Her voice was polite, but he sensed faint amusement. Perhaps she thought he wasn't serious.
"It's my pleasure, Ma'am." Jim kept his tone smooth, let echoes of Iowa accent shape his words. "I'll make time for anything you're interested in."
Mayor Tutto blinked as heat rushed across her skin. Who does this arrogant young cub think he is? Good looks aren't everything. She ought to know. Her last lover had been beautiful, but restless, and she'd packed her bags and left after she understood that Aurelia really intended to remain on Alpha Cachette and work to maintain the health and safety of the planet's citizens, rather than use the job as a stepping stone to more glamorous work. There had been a kind man before that, and a kinder woman, but both considered the planet a backwater. They didn't stay. Neither would this charming Starfleet captain.
Maybe she was deluding herself about his flirtation? No. Kirk's words were neutral enough, but something about his inflection made it seem as though he'd just offered to take off all her clothes, then his.
Jim noted her momentary discomfiture, satisfied. She'd finally noticed him, and he would make it worth her while.
…
Nyota hugged Gaila hard before remembering that they were both dressed up. "Gaila, at last! Oh! Sorry, I hope I didn't rearrange your outfit." She indicated the sarong-like skirt Gaila wore with a shimmering black top; it was held up by a series of elaborate, ornamental knots and folds at the waist.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't care anyway. I'm so happy to see you! Commander Spock, it's good to see you again too. I'm relieved that the Enterprise crew came through the recent incident so well. You'll find my report waiting among your messages, sir."
"Please, feel free to call me Spock in this setting. It is agreeable to meet you again as well. As for the report, I have already read it. Thank you for being so timely and thorough." The Orion woman's emotionality, scattered energy and extroverted personality unnerved him, though he was reluctant to tell Nyota. Her pheromones did not affect him, though he understood that her physiology, personality, and reputation caused many humanoid males to flock to her. Despite these drawbacks, Gaila was a steady and caring friend to his bondmate, an admirable quality in any being. However, as Leonard McCoy would say, Spock sometimes found her difficult to "take in large doses". After several minutes Spock excused himself, suggesting that the women might want to chat privately.
Gaila and Nyota walked down a garden path, arm in arm.
"You know what I want to ask," Gaila said.
"No result yet. Odd scan." Nyota shrugged. "Len said he'd have the results and diagnosis by tomorrow. Until then, carpe diem, or carpe noctem. It'll be all right; I just don't want to spend lots of time receiving treatment in Sickbay, or worse, on leave. Maybe that sounds ungrateful- I should be glad I have access to medical treatment. Some planets don't."
"Pssh, who wants to be sick? Nobody. It's all right to feel worried or scared. Just feel what you gotta feel. At least you've got Mr. Strong and Silent and support you." Gaila looked over her shoulder, saw that they were alone, and pulled Nyota into a secluded area.
"Nyota, do any crewmembers resent you?" Gaila asked, her voice low.
"Probably several somebodies. I try to treat everyone fairly but some people think I'm demanding. Why do you say that?"
"You'll read all of this in the report later, but here it is. Your little problem with wandering, randomly misplaced and reassigned files isn't a software problem or a virus. It's a hacker. Not an especially skilled one, but good enough that I couldn't trace it completely back to the culprit. Those time-consuming, annoying problems you encountered were deliberately caused by someone cracking into one of your login identities and then fooling around with your files to annoy you personally. They invaded other systems aboard the ship – utilitarian stuff, like replicators and door entry codes. It all stopped some hours before the Enterprise entered space dock. Don't worry; I reset security protocols and you're completely safe now, but -" Gaila let go of Nyota's arm and looked at her, unsmiling.
"Could somebody be carrying a serious grudge? Sometimes people start small, you know."
"No, I haven't had big problems recently. There's one macho, disrespectful type, an Ensign promoted by Kirk, but otherwise it's business as usual." Nyota shook her head. "The space dock security team will be able to tell us if they found any signs of another drone aboard. No strangers have come aboard the Enterprise recently except the Vulcans we rescued."
"Yeah, I heard about your mission of mercy. Show me these stranded Vulcans."
The women returned to the party, where guests enjoyed a performance by local musicians.
Gaila's eyes widened as she surveyed the group of dancers on the broad patio. "How do I get some of that?"
Nyota followed Gaila's line of sight and observed Serranstivlen gyrating his hips with a deep, promise-filled groove.
"Oh, Gaila, no. Don't touch. Serranstivlen is a kid, a carpenter's apprentice on New Vulcan. He's not a worldly person."
"Oh, yeah? Those hips have already been somewhere interesting. And that's not a kid, that's a man."
Nyota knew she fought a losing battle, but persisted. "Seriously, be careful. He's a diasporic Vulcan but he's lived on New Vulcan for a while and New Vulcan is pretty conservative in some ways. I'm not sure he's had much actual experience with other cultures regarding, uh, sexual situations. He may not understand certain things."
"Hmmm." The young Vulcan man tossed his hair back again and looked at Gaila over his shoulder. He didn't smile but they shared a look.
Gaila took a deep breath. "He understands, all right. Ny, are we gonna fight about this? Don't tell me you want all the Vulcans for yourself."
"Tsk! You know that's not it! One Vulcan keeps me busy enough."
"Let this cutie make his own decisions. If he wants what I'm offering, well, we're both legal adults on somebody's calendar, somewhere." She lowered her voice and leaned closer to Nyota, speaking Orion. "Every seven years for unbonded Vulcans is just a legend, right?"
"Opinions vary, but yes, they can have plain old sex. It's not the same as mating or bonding. It's more recreation than emotion."
"Recreation is all I want now. Some humans aren't very generous with emotions either." Gaila's eyes drifted toward Jim Kirk, conversing with the town's Mayor, then back to Serranstivlen. "You know that I've been lonely for a while. Can we agree to disagree about this?"
"Yes, I guess we'll have to. I just think - if you're lonely, wouldn't you rather have someone who likes you, loves you back?"
"Maybe. That love thing's easier said than done, huh? Anyway, I want to know if all Vulcans are put off by Orion pheromones. Consider this a science experiment." She giggled. "Wish me luck."
Gaila turned her full, brilliant attention upon the young Vulcan, and moved into the swirling crowd of dancers.
Nyota sighed and rejoined Spock.
...
The older woman noticed the way the couple unconsciously walked in step, how they listened to each other. When Lieutenant Uhura's shawl slid down from her shoulders, Commander Spock pulled it back into place, his fingertips brushing against the nape of the Lieutenant's neck, and her body moved closer to his. Starships must be lonely places; if it were possible to sit and observe the Enterprise crew socializing, one could probably point out dozens of small dramas of desire, alliances, avoidance or loneliness.
Another group of Port Town dignitaries curious about New Vulcan surrounded Spock and Nyota took advantage of the distraction to sit down for a few moments. Mayor Tutto joined her on the bench and smiled gently at Nyota, who smiled back. They discussed the music, the warm night, and the sweet scents of the flowering plants.
Mayor Tutto was always more interested in people than things. "The Vulcan Commander - your formally bonded mate?"
Nyota nodded. "Yes, ma'am. We are legally and ceremonially bonded."
"It's a love match, is it not? He is so attentive to you. You are fortunate."
Surprised by the personal bent of the Mayor's conversation, Nyota became somewhat guarded. "Indeed I am, your honor."
"Pardon me for speaking so personally; I do not mean offense. Love matches are good to see. We have all sorts of relationships on Alpha Cachette, many of them arranged. Property and family connections are useful in a formal pairing, but when simple affection is added to all of those practical considerations...it's a fine thing. You are blessed, Lieutenant, and may you remain so."
"Oh! Thank you I wasn't offended, it's just that...on a starship privacy is difficult to find and so we don't always talk about ourselves as a pair. There are other bonded couples, but the nature of our missions makes relationships of any kind difficult."
"Starfleet men and women are attractive."
"I agree with you," Nyota laughed.
"Your ship's doctor, McCoy, wanders through this party alone." Mayor Tutto tapped her fingers together pensively, then grinned. "I shall introduce him to the Chair of the Women's Orgasm Committee."
Nyota's eyes widened. "Ma'am?"
"It is a project of the planetary health service. Medical folk should get to know one another. Time permitting, she may wish to present an informative Women's Orgasm Workshop to the Enterprise crew before you leave. Would you like to meet her?"
"Yes, please – I'll never forgive myself if I don't." Nyota gathered her full skirts in her hands and followed Mayor Tutto to the side of a cheerful, curvy woman dressed in varying shades of yellow and red.
…
"Madam is Orion," Serran said with a tone of slight amazement in his voice.
"Yeah, originally, but I'm a citizen of Earth and devoted to Starfleet now. I've got nothing to say to Orion anymore but hello, goodbye, and bite my butt. You can drop the Madam, handsome. I realize that you mean it politely, but I think we're around the same age, huh? My name is Gaila."
"I am named Serranstivlen. Please call me Serran."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. Tell me about what you do on New Vulcan?"
"I am carpenter's apprentice in the shop of Donstelralth, the master woodcarver and artist. I build furniture, houses, I carve ornaments and sculpture."
"How practical and creative. I like men who are good with their hands." She was pleased to see him flush green. "Your hands look very strong. I know that I'm not supposed to touch them…"
"Gaila, I do not object if you want to touch my hands," the young Vulcan said quickly.
"Ooh, really? I'm glad." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I'll do it quickly, I promise, and then we'll go get a drink." She held out her hands to him, palms up. "Just go ahead and rest your hands on mine. It'll be all right. I know there's supposed to be something in Orion skin and pheromones that bothers Vulcans, but we can experiment; maybe you're an exception." Gaila sighed. "I'm a fairly outgoing person. I don't have trouble getting along with most beings, even when they have preconceived notions about me."
"It is disagreeable to be approached by humans who say…" Serran mimicked a patronizing tone. "'I have never had one of your kind before'."
"Yeah," Gaila said, looking at Serran intently. "I really hate that."
"Agreed. Such comments create the opposite of the desired effect. It is very unflattering and implies that I should be grateful for any attention at all. Physical pleasure is most easily achieved with mutual respect, in my opinion." Serran's gaze wandered down from Gaila's face, along her body, and back up.
"When are they expecting you back at that beach cabin, Serran?"
"I am an adult. I go and come as I please." He rested his palms on hers. Nothing bad happened.
Gaila smiled.
…
Stelen fidgeted. Ensign Steap's expression was a bit too relaxed, too jovial. The man did not openly mock him, but he asked alarmingly personal questions.
"So, no girlfriend? I understand that you work, but don't you...let off steam once in a while? Sometimes your own hands just aren't enough to cover it, so to speak."
Stelendos wondered why the human man assumed that all male beings approached the lack of sexual activity in the same way. Perhaps this was the sort of 'man-to-man' talk he read about in fiction books by and about humans.
"No," the young Vulcan replied. "There are...opportunities for such contact with others, but sexual contact is not essential to sustain life. Some go without...for long periods. Meditation is useful. It is not unusual on New Vulcan." He fell silent, unsure whether or not he had responded appropriately. Stelen was sure of one thing. He would never discuss Ponn Farr with any human, except for one...
"Wow." The man gave a low whistle, as though impressed. "You just go without for months. What do you do with all that time? Never mind, it's a rhetorical question. If Donstelralth doesn't object, I think a little bit of planetside recreation might help you guys out."
Horrified, Stelen wondered how to escape. This man did indeed mock him. The pretense of friendship hid Steap's cruelty. Stelen noticed Charlene Masters leave the dance floor at the side of Engineer Scott, who excused himself when a local person tried to get his attention to ask a question; Charlene sat on a bench to rest for a moment.
Stelen spoke up. "Excuse me. I believe you mock me and this is a wrong action. You should have shame."
Stelen walked away, mentally casting off his anger at Steap and directing his mind towards Charlene.
Steap watched the Vulcan leave, smirking. He rubbed the disc in his forearm. It didn't itch now; he couldn't even feel it. Everyone was busy at the party. If he dropped into the Federation-affiliated medical clinic in town, he might be able to take care of this little problem without anyone noticing he was even gone. His rank would get him admitted to the building; all he needed was privacy and an empty room. Steap glanced around. He would know when to leave and what to do.
…
The young Vulcan paused. It wasn't his language skills that made it difficult to speak to Charlene now. "Perhaps you see me more again in future...you will have more than the sculpture to make you think of me," he said.
"Stelen, if the Enterprise ever comes into orbit around New Vulcan again, I hope that crew members are allowed planetside visits. It would be so interesting!"
Abandoning subtlety, Stelen took a plunge. "Charlene. I want for you to come to New Vulcan, see life there. Our planet has visual pleasures and more. Soon I hope to have my own small shop, perhaps house, enough to support more than myself alone. It is possible to have a good life, good opportunities. Many foreigners have their own business there. Some Vulcans...like me...we accept all beings, we like the Federation, want to live in peace with everybody."
"Well, that's encouraging. I know that some planets are more open to offworlders -aliens, which is what I would be on New Vulcan- than others."
"Hey, excuse me – there's some sort of game going. Do you want to play?" Sulu indicated a group of people moving large wooden game pieces around a series of shapes painted on the ground.
"Ooh, that's intriguing. Come on, Stelen; let's see." She smiled at him and all he could do was follow.
Disappointed, Scotty watched as the young Vulcan accompanied Charlene to the game area. He'd better take a walk, clear his head, and come back in a better mood. This party would surely go on most of the night. Port Town was small. He could stroll back to his cabin, fetch the flask he'd left behind out of respect, and return within less than an hour. Scotty drank far less than many people realized, but he certainly could do with a shot of whisky now. The sweet, pale green stuff in the glass he'd just emptied had little kick to it. Scotty sighed and left.
Dr. McCoy heard his communicator chime softly. He'd set a reminder for himself to check in on the ongoing analysis of Nyota's results. A little more time at the party, then he'd drop in at the clinic for a brief time.
Mayor Tutto approached him with Nyota and a smiling woman beside her. His Great-Aunt Minnie Wiggins would have said a lady shouldn't wear yellow and red at the same time, but on this happy-looking woman the colors were flattering. Nyota seemed surprisingly cheerful, considering her inconclusive medical exam earlier that day.
"Dr. McCoy? May I present to you the head of our planet's Women's Orgasm Committee? She's been anxious to meet you."
Len smiled down into a pair of thick-lashed eyes holding a downright mischievous expression. Unbidden, the memory of a standing intercourse position called the Climbing Vine or the Turning Tree or some such nonsense flew into his head. The head of the Women's Orgasm Committee was exactly the right height to try it with him.
Red and yellow, catch a fellow.
…
The frisson of arousal in Nyota's mind was small, but experience told Spock it was likely to gather heat and grow. He held his breath and went very still, his attention wandering from the political chitchat of the local dignitaries and Federation personnel around him.
Recent attempts to arouse and share sexual pleasure with his wife had been thwarted by ship business and fatigue. During their few hours alone in the beach cabin he had felt her fear and uncertainty and sought only to comfort her. Now she listened to what sounded vaguely like a medical discussion between Dr. McCoy and a local woman. The odd conversation dealt with some sort of class the woman taught about forming shapes with the tongue and fingers to improve stimulation of the labia and clitoris.
I already know how to do that, Spock thought.
You certainly do. I wouldn't object to being reminded, though. Nyota's amusement seemed to make their bond quiver.
Spock's eyebrow rose involuntarily, as did something else.
"Please excuse me, ladies, and gentlemen. I have remembered that I must attend to a private matter." He extricated himself from the group and prowled the edges of the crowd, his hands behind his back, seeking Nyota. He found her standing near Dr. McCoy, Mayor Tutto, and a woman dressed in alarming primary colors. Nyota looked up and saw Spock standing across the room. With a few polite words she left the group – McCoy barely noticed – and walked over to him.
Here?
You'd rather wait?
Some now. The rest later.
She laughed, and spoke aloud. "We are greedy."
"We have good reason to be."
Like most proper city-owned gardens, this one had a map posted at its entrance. Spock knew where the exits were. He also knew how to find its secluded areas. The first two were already occupied by people embracing and whispering to each other. The third, a bower of thick, sturdy trunks, long branches with trailing leaves, and a scattering of fragrant plants, was empty. Spock pulled Nyota off the path and into the concealing shadows of the leaves on the opposite side of a pair of trees, their bodies hidden from anyone walking on the path.
"This is different for us, public touching," she whispered.
"Blame me if we are discovered," Spock growled, and pulled her into a kiss. He thought only to dull the edge of their shared desire until they could leave the party for the cabin. Their minds were open to each other, and he was pleased to know that she wanted him. The lingering sorrow and desperation he also found made him pause.
"You agree to this because you think it may be the last time we take such a risk?"
"I don't know – there are things we haven't done. That doesn't mean we're obligated to do them. If the exam results are bad...I want us to be together as often as we can. I won't regret any of it, if -" She closed her eyes. "I can't think about it anymore. Just let me want you, and have you." Her fingers moved down the front of his jacket, pulled it open.
"Ashayam, please. I will not abandon you. Do not permit emotions to overwhelm you. Let me give you this." He leaned her back against the curve of a sturdy tree. One warm hand moved beneath the fabric of her skirt, tucked it into her belt, leaving her smooth thigh bared to the warm air and his touch.
They kissed again, slow and deep. Nyota rocked her hips against him until he groaned and pulled her against him; she held on to him, let one hand caress the nape of his neck and play with his hair. The heavier fabric of his uniform trousers pressed against the thin, silky fabric of her underwear. Nyota heard Spock gasp into her shoulder, felt his warm breath arc across her neck just before he bit her. How she'd missed his bites! He sucked her skin into his mouth to soothe it, then released it, licking and kissing as his hands wandered over her breasts, gently squeezing. Nyota heard herself whimper and stopped thinking. She moved her hips until his fly pressed against the cleft between her labia, repositioned herself, felt her clitoris rising from its hood. Spock ground against her, aroused, paused to make sure he didn't hurt her, adjusted and slowed his pace. She panted loudly between kisses, but no longer cared about the consequences. The low purring sounds Spock made hinted that he was close to not caring himself.
She wanted to pull her underwear off completely, to let him in –
"Not here, ashayam," he murmured.
"Yes, here. Come inside me."
"We are guests here. Please, my ashalik Nyota, do not ask this of me. I would not be able to control myself." He pulled his hips away with a groan, then slid his fingers beneath the damp fabric of her underwear and pulled them down.
"I overheard some of what the woman said about techniques." His fingers parted her labia, neatly pushed back her trimmed hair, slid along the cleft, found their way in. "As I said before, I am already familiar with the techniques she discussed. What I found interesting was the procedure. Pacing and rhythm are something I usually choose to apply to your body spontaneously." He stroked the sensitive edges of her outer lips until she squirmed and pushed her fingers beneath his black undershirt to feel his bare skin. "However, the consistent application of patterns may be effective." He delved deeper into her, angling his fingers differently, carefully penetrating her while the fleshiest part of his hand steadily stroked her clitoris. "You are about to cry out? If I kiss you it lessens the chance of discovery. Open your mouth, ashayam; please do not bite your lip. I am very fond of your lips."
The kiss was hot, wet, and did indeed muffle sound effectively. Nyota's thighs quivered as they paused for breath. "Close, ashayam?" He moved his fingers up, focused, stroked, pressed. Nyota clutched his shoulders, for one shimmering moment the only steady thing in the world as waves of pleasure surged through her. She drank in air, her mouth open, and then exhaled in an ecstatic moan. When her eyes opened she realized that Spock was holding her up. He looked down at her with a dazed half-smile; although he hadn't reached his own climax he'd felt her through the bond. She smelled crushed grass and leaves and the sweetness of the flowers and herself.
They kissed again, until she felt sticky and wanted to tidy up with the small towelettes she carried in her bag. She stepped out of her underwear to do it; when she turned around to put them on, they were gone.
Spock interrupted her search. "I have them," he said, indicating his trouser pocket.
"What? Almost two years married to you, and I had no idea that was your thing. Give 'em back, you rascal. I'm not returning to the party without them."
"I will return them upon one condition."
"That depends upon whether or not I like the condition, Mister."
"The condition is as follows: you will tell me, when we are next alone in a private place, of a fantasy you would like to act out with me. I will endeavor to fulfill said fantasy to the best of my ability. This activity will take place without regard to the results of medical analysis. We will give each other affection and attention and attempt to share and enjoy physical pleasure without anxiety. Are these terms agreeable to you?"
"Sweetheart...you surprise me. Of course I agree. Before all of this happened, I was thinking about...oh, I'll tell you later...but for now, I'll tell you that I am so glad you're mine, Spock."
"As am I, tal-kam."
…
The Guest Cabins Near the Beach
The walk in the late afternoon sun relaxed Scotty, and by the time he reached his cabin he felt ready to flirt proactively with Charlene upon his return to the party. He picked up his flask and looked at it; maybe he didn't need liquid courage after all.
The cabin door swung open with a loud, breathy sound like someone exhaling. Scotty turned around to see a young man in Federation uniform enter. His damp red shirt clung to him; he looked cold. The young man neither spoke nor made eye contact with Scotty.
"Are ye all right, mate? Is something wrong?"
Silently, the young man moved toward the panel heater mounted on the wall and raised his hands as though to warm himself.
"How'd ye get wet? Do you need a towel?"
Now he looked directly at Scotty; his eyes were filmy, unfocused. Awareness prickled along Scotty's spine and he dropped the flask.
"I recognize ye now. Craughan-Weale, lost in that conflict with Romulans. Ye were a good and honorable crewman. Why have ye come here? We honored you and the others who we lost that terrible day. Please go, lad. Go and rest in peace."
The young man did not leave. Large drops of water fell from the hem of his shirt, vanishing before they could splash against the floor.
His heart pounding, Scotty tried to reason with the vision. His mouth felt dry but he managed to speak a few words into the still air of the empty-but-not-empty room. "Do you want to take me away with ye? I'm not ready to go. You're shakin' yer head no – not me? What do you want to tell me?"
The young man lowered his arms; his lips formed words which sounded in Scotty's heart instead of his ears.
Trouble, from one like you and me.
He rubbed his cold hands together once more, and then vanished.
Scotty stood puzzling over the warning, shaking from agitation rather than fear. He quickly recited a prayer his grandmother had taught him ( ...Circle me, Lord…compassion upon the departed and the sorrowful...comfort and lay to rest with thy gracious consolations...all things work together for good...), followed by an old-fashioned charm meant to turn away unbidden spirits.
"Am I the next candidate for a psycho-vac?" he muttered. Pulse racing, he looked down at the dry floor, then up at the open door. The eerie prickling along his spine was gone. He was again alone in the room, but he could not bear to be there by himself.
"Communicator, contact Lieutenant Masters, secure channel."
After a brief pause she answered. "Scotty – er, Mr. Scott! How are you?"
"Miss Masters, can you speak privately?"
"One moment, sir." A pause, then: "I'm holding the communicator to my ear. There's nowhere private here."
"Charlene, may we speak alone, right now? Can you come? Please say ye will."
"Yes," she said, unhesitating. "One moment -" Scotty heard the ambient sounds of the party: easy conversation and the clatter of game pieces. Then Charlene's voice: "Excuse me, everybody, I've got to go check in about something. Yeah? Oh, thanks. Maybe Jonesy can play my position? Cool, see you later." Her voice grew clearer as the sounds faded and she addressed Scotty again. "I'm about to get on the bike now. Are you all right?"
"Yes. I am, but – I need to talk with you."
"Oh. Yes, of course. Five minutes."
Scotty paced the length of the small porch with his communicator in his hand. He visualized his grandmother's knowing smile. Not everyone in our family has the Sight, but you may have a touch of it, dearie. Don't be afraid. Don't tell all of your friends, either. You're neither cursed, nor crazy.
Charlene rode toward him on the bicycle, and he clasped her hand the moment she secured the lock.
"Scotty? Maybe not out here, okay?" She freed her hand and rested it on his shoulder. "You seem...anxious. Let's go inside."
"No, please." Scotty knew that the cabin wasn't haunted, but he wanted to be away from it for a while. If the young man returned, Scotty would feel compelled to ask him questions again. Then Charlene might call Dr. McCoy for help and he'd have difficulty explaining himself. "Walk with me."
They walked to the top of a grassy ridge and sat on a bench overlooking the water. Charlene cast questioning looks at Scotty, but she did not withdraw her hand from his.
"Let me plunge right into this. You remember how we talked about havin' the 'Sight'?"
"Yes. I appreciated the respectful attitude you had about it. Your grandmother had it, so did mine. They just called it by different names."
"I appear to have inherited more than a book collection, red hair, and a gold watch from me dear Granny. Somehow the Sight skipped a few members of the Scott family and landed on me. Me, the one with the spaceship job demanding rationality, reason, and a clear head."
Charlene rested a hand on his arm. "Did you...'see' something?"
Scotty frowned, ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and told her.
"My, my, my," she said softly, a hint of a Carolinan Sea Island accent in her voice. She looked at him, then out at the rolling waves. Her fingers stroked his shoulder reassuringly while she thought.
"Let's break this into manageable parts," she said. "'Trouble, from one like you and me'. Whatever sent this vision to you gave you a few hints: he showed up wearing a Starfleet uniform. There's the most obvious thing you've got in common. A man aboard the Enterprise, or within Starfleet ranks, is going to cause serious trouble. His actions may be serious enough to cause a death; after all, it was a dead man who warned you. How did Craughan-Weale die?"
"Shuttle explosion – a Romulan ambush on a swampy planet over two years ago. Tried to beam his party out, but the Enterprise came under fire before we could get a fix on the position of the shuttle. He was partially trapped inside the craft along with three others; the back of the shuttle sank into the water. If the concussion from impact hadn't killed him, he might have drowned. The two others survived, barely. I felt badly about it. I didn't know him well, played football during shore leave with him sometimes. Good lad. I wrote to his mum afterward, just to say that I was sorry it happened and that he was well-liked. Why'd he come to me, I wonder, instead of Captain Kirk?"
"Maybe we aren't going to learn the answer to that question. My guess? He appreciated your taking time to contact his grieving mother, and wanted to repay your kindness. The answer we should worry about has to do with the warning he gave you. 'Trouble, from one like you and me'. Mutiny, perhaps. Spying aboard the Enterprise. Sabotage...that flying device didn't come aboard by itself."
"My dear Miss Masters, are ye not even a little frightened by what I've told you?"
"Never underestimate a city girl with country roots. My childhood summers spent with relatives in Geechee country taught me that things are seldom what they seem...and that our own world isn't necessarily the only world there is. "
"Other worlds? Excellent preparation for Starfleet. Right, we deal with it, remain observant and watch for trouble from within. That's one big issue. Here's another." Scotty brushed his lips across her knuckles. "I have been holding your hand off and on for the past half hour. I wonder what ye think about it."
Gently, she squeezed his hand. "I like it."
"Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable at work. I don't want to create any problems," Scotty said.
"I shouldn't date other crew members, but I like you."
"I like you, too."
A light breeze rustled the tall grass surrounding them, and as Scotty leaned back from the kiss he heard a song carried on the wind – a single voice some distance down the beach, untrained but happily carrying an unfamiliar tune and words. It was a simple song, the type one could quickly learn and share with others.
Charlene noticed, not for the first time, that Scotty's eyelashes were a darker red than his hair. Something about this small difference seemed especially dear. When he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her fingers caressing his face, she leaned forward to kiss the lashes, then his mouth again.
"You really don't think I've gone daft?"
"No." She shrugged. "I don't understand what you saw, but I doubt that you're delusional. I've known you only a year, but for all your sense of humor you aren't prone to exaggeration or distortions. Engineers deal in facts, right?"
"Aye. Charlene, we can take this as slowly as you like."
"Good plan."
…
Inside the Federation Medical Building, later that evening
The ability to focus and compartmentalize serves Starfleet officers well. Leonard McCoy couldn't believe he'd actually made some sort of date-but-not-a-date with the head of the Women's Orgasm Committee for later in the evening.
Both of them claimed it was an informal meeting to discuss long-term benefits of orgasms on mental health and workplace effectiveness. Leonard was pretty sure this was a ruse, unless he misunderstood the meaning of her strong, short-nailed hand touching his shoulder and thigh during conversation. He might be a doctor, but he was also a man with human weaknesses. What the hell, he'd figure it all out later. Maybe the lady was just really friendly.
He pushed anticipation aside and logged into the computer. The quiet atmosphere of the clinic made him feel calmer.
Dr. McCoy tapped the screen, paging through the results of further investigation into Nyota's case. He read each paragraph carefully, and then sat back with a sigh.
"Well, damn."
There was a tinkling noise, then a small crash from the adjoining room. Leonard's hand touched his side, automatically.
No phaser.
He suddenly recalled setting it down on a table in his beach cabin, devoting his attention to fastening his dress jacket. Maybe this planet's sultry atmosphere had relaxed him too well.
Vulcan vocabulary in this chapter:
Ashalik=Darling.
Ashayam= Beloved.
Tal-kam =Dear one.
Some of Scotty's prayer after he sees the ghost is adapted from the Scottish Book of Common Prayer published 1912 for use in the Scottish Episcopal Church; much of that content is based upon the 1662 Book of Common Prayer of England.
The "Women's Orgasm Committee" appears to be a real entity in our own time. It is a working committee of the World Health Organization (WHO); the group reviews orgasm research. Unfortunately, little more information seems to be available online and I am unaware of their other work.
The Women's Orgasm Workshop (WOW) is my own creation.
Thank you for reading! Comments, reviews, concrit welcome.