Osmosis – a STXI S/U fanfic

Chapter 20: Nothing Good Gets Away

Warnings this chapter: mildly kinky sexuality, purple prose, couple time, Emo!Spock. NSFW and absolutely not for underage readers. Please note: long word count (+ 9K).

A Private House on Alpha Cachette

Spock stepped away, turning to a table holding a pile of towels and small boxes. He opened a rectangular silver case and withdrew a chain made from square links of a copper-colored metal. A smooth, curved oval hung from a space between two of the links. It was too long to be a necklace.

"What's that?" Nyota asked.

"You will learn its purpose shortly. At the moment, you are inappropriately dressed."

Nyota glanced down at her heeled shoes, stockings, and the little white chemise. The stockings reached only to her thighs and she wore an old-fashioned, lacy white garter belt. "Clarification requested, sir."

"Your attire is visually stimulating. However, it covers..." He looked her up and down. "...important areas." He set the chain back into its case, then turned back to her, arms crossed. "I desire complete access, Lieutenant. Will you grant it?"

"Yes, Commander."

He extended one hand, motioned for her to leave the swing.

"Turn around and grip the bars."

She did; one of his large hands reached above her and turned a knob on one of the bars, locking the swing into a stationary position.

Spock stroked the backs of his gloved hands along her forearms and shoulders. The soft, suede-like material caused little goose bumps to rise on her skin despite the comfortable warmth of the plant-filled space. Nyota felt her breathing and heartbeat speed up as Spock's soft touch moved down to her bare shoulder blades and the bare skin between the garter belt and her stockings.

Warm hands pushed the smooth fabric of the little chemise above her waist. She moaned aloud at the first touch of his tongue licking along her spine. Nyota's reaction drew a low, short, hm of approval from Spock before he planted a kiss on the small of her back. Cool air flowed over her skin before he let the fabric fall back into place and moved away. She heard clinking metal and turned to look over her shoulder.

"Do not turn around until I command you, please," he said firmly, and she turned her head back with a small, frustrated sound. Spock moved the links of the coppery metal chain through his hands to warm them before placing it around her waist. Placing one big, warm hand over the smooth, curved projection, he carefully adjusted it between her labia so that it rested above the hood of her clitoris.

"Spock -"

His other hand, cupping her behind, gave her a quick, light spank. Both his actions and her own aroused response surprised her. Their mental bond was clouded by desire, but she felt him worry; he did not want to hurt her.

She took a deep breath, looked at him over her shoulder, and pushed her hips back slightly. The expression in his dark eyes showed that he understood that she granted him permission, even though he wasn't quite sure why she wanted this.

"The proper form of address is 'Commander'." He spanked her again.

"No."

Spank. "Say it."

"Grrr – no!"

Spank. In his growing excitement he was less cautious, and it stung. She spoke the safe word on a sharp exhalation. "Frenelle."

"Ah – I am sorry." Quickly, he withdrew his hand. "Ashayam, did I hurt you?"

"No. Give me a moment." Spock knelt behind her, and she felt him blow a cooling breath over her skin. The stinging sensation faded. Despite the pause, she still felt loose, slippery and dizzily aroused. "Wow. I requested the swing, but maybe you're the kinky one here."

"Correction, Ms. Uhura. " He stood up, his deep voice growling into her ear. "You should say, 'You are the kinky one here, Commander."

"Fine, damn it. 'Commander'. What is that metal thing you put on me, anyway?"

Both arms slid around her waist, pressing her against his clothed body. Briefly, Nyota felt him quake with silent laughter.

"Have patience, Lieutenant. I assure you that it is intended for your benefit." His mouth moved over her neck, kissing her as his hands moved up her torso and slid under the fabric covering her breasts. Now the suede side on her nipples, then the smooth side. His fingers played with her nipples and her patience. First the suede side brushed over them, making them even stiffer; then she felt the smoothness of his palms caressing and gently squeezing her. Nyota's fingers slid along the bars as her palms grew damp and her knees went wobbly. Behind her, she felt Spock's warmth, heat, and if she moved her hips back far enough, his hardness.

"More, Lieutenant?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, Commander."

One hand slipped between her outer labia, down, carefully slid a smooth finger up and inside, and she let out a soft cry. His other hand rustled in his pocket. The smooth curve of metal over her clitoris softly buzzed to life, and Nyota laughed, then moaned.

"After we made landfall on Alpha Cachette – when we were taking the bus into town – you said that there wouldn't be any metal between us."

"Believe me, I have no intention of allowing you to achieve physical satisfaction with the sole assistance of a sexual device." The pressure of his teeth against her neck was brief, but thrilling, before he spoke again. "I may tease you with it, but your pleasure will come from me."

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on his shoulder, then gasped and leaned forward as her hips trembled in response to the vibration of the metal.

Spock's deep voice sounded gently against her ear. "No pain, ashayam? I will adjust the force and speed if you desire."

"No pain."

"Good." He licked her earlobe. Spock added a second finger, moving both. Withdrawing, plunging back in. "Do you want more of this?"

"Oooh..." she whimpered, and he increased the speed and pressure of his fingers.

"Answer me, Ms. Uhura. That is an order."

"I want you."

"Good." Spock tapped the control, and the nub on the belt gradually slowed its steady hum to an occasional throb as he slowly withdrew his fingers. He leaned forward, making her bend beneath his weight. "Please spread your legs by moving each foot two inches on each side." Nyota did, hearing him step back and unfasten his trousers. She waited. Nothing happened. She glanced over her shoulder to see Spock admiring her.

"This is a truly...fascinating sight." He leaned over her again, engulfing her with his warmth. "If you were not already mine I would beg for your attention. As it is, I willingly subject myself to your power." Eager and unsteady, he slid into her, thick and hot. Both of them could hear how wet she was. She felt his teeth against her shoulder and heard him groan as she pushed her hips back into him.

"Mos (soft)," Spock moaned. "Ni mos (so soft), ni masupik (so wet), ni rom (so good)."

"More…du el'ru (your hands)," she said, and he stroked the skin of her belly and her thighs the way she wanted him to, pulling her breasts free of the low neckline of her chemise. She grabbed one of his hands and bit it, making him gasp. He growled a frustrated word in Vulcan and pulled out of her.

"I must see your face," he said. "Do you want to see me?"

She turned around on unsteady legs. "Yes, love."

Spock pulled her close, turned off the vibrating metal belt, and removed it, waiting until her legs steadied. Nyota looked up at him; his eyes seemed very large and dark. Pleased to know that he was affected by her, Nyota boldly cradled his face between her hands and ran her fingers along the edges of his ears. With a shuddering breath, Spock closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and watched her.

"Do it again."

She teased him, tracing the curve of only one ear with her index finger.

"Nyota, more...please."

She pulled her hand away. "Have you forgotten the proper form of address?" She teased. "I am 'Lieutenant' to you."

"Indeed? Perhaps more accurately, I should call you Mistress," he said, and seizing her by her waist he lifted her, placing her on the swing's seat. Nyota leaned back and held her thighs around his hips to maintain her balance. His face wore an expression of naked anticipation as he leaned forward, ready to press inside her, but she tensed her thighs and he stopped.

"Not yet."

She sensed tension radiating from his strong body, but he adapted to the change in their roles without protest. "I will obey you, Mistress. How may I please you?"

"I saw two beds in this place. One large enough for both of us, the other small enough to fit only one."

"Yes, Mistress. It is your choice which one we will use first." His eyes moved toward the large bed a few meters away, betraying his own choice.

"Stop. Why are you looking over there? I'm supposed to decide."

"Yes, but..." Spock looked dismayed as she lowered her legs and pulled her thighs together. "Sanoi, Mistress, forgive me. The choice is entirely yours." He knelt and rubbed his face against the bare skin of her thighs above the stockings. He was smooth; he'd shaved before he came to her. He kissed her knees and quickly slid his tongue between them, hinting at what he'd do if she parted her legs again.

"What I choose now, Commander, is that you carry me over to that little bed. If you're good...maybe I'll let you have me."

Spock complied. He was strong enough to resist her, to disobey, to be cruel, but he never was. She'd always been able to trust him, and he able to trust her. Sometimes strong men could be so marvelously gentle.

Following a pathway between a curving row of large potted plants so tall that they nearly touched the tinted glass ceiling of the greenhouse-like structure, Spock carried Nyota to the narrow little mattress bordered by a row of smaller plants. Only a bottom sheet covered the bed. Spock paused at the foot of the small bed and looked at it with distaste, making Nyota laugh.

"Don't worry, Big Man." She wriggled a little, and he set her down. Nyota walked around the bed, looking at the unfamiliar vines spilling from the plants surrounding it. Pausing at the end of the bed, she looked Spock in the eye and pulled down one thin strap of her chemise, then the other.

Rapid breaths made his chest rise and fall visibly. Nyota turned around and slid the chemise down, undulating her hips a little more than necessary for its removal. Slowly, she turned around; now she wore only the lacy white garter belt, stockings, and shoes.

Spock made an unusually inarticulate sound and reached for her, pausing with hands in midair when she stopped him with a stern look.

"Pick that up and fold it."

Spock quickly retrieved her chemise, pressing it briefly against his face before tucking it into a neat square and placing it on a nearby chair. Nyota sat down on the end of the bed and looked up at him. Almost casually, she stretched out one hand and caressed the bulge at the front of his trousers; he'd tucked himself back in earlier, but now he was quickly growing aroused again.

"I could make you use that," she nodded toward the chemise, "make you wrap it around this," she moved her fingers into his open fly and stroked him, causing him to groan deeply. "I could make you touch yourself, and you'd probably finish by yourself. Would you like that?"

"No, Mistress. No, I would not."

"Then we should finish what you started, back there on the swing. Use that excellent memory of yours, Commander. How did you last touch me?"

"I was on my knees and attempting to convince you to part your own knees."

Nyota laughed. "I'll let you persuade me." She moved back on the bed, reclining on her elbows. She slid her feet out of the high-heeled shoes, then stretched out one shapely leg . Toes pointed, she stroked the outline of his erection. The delicate rasp of the finely knit threads of the stockings rubbing against the fabric of his trousers seemed loud in the quiet space.

"Sanoi (please), Mistress...give me leave to touch you before I lose control of myself." He spoke through clenched teeth.

She pulled her toes away and looked up at him, her eyes bright with anticipation. "Undress for me first."

Exhaling, Spock reached for the hem of his black shirt and pulled it over his head. He could have undressed slowly, toying with her as she'd done with him, but Spock knew that Nyota enjoyed seeing him naked. So he got naked quickly, barely giving his clothing a sloppy half-fold before placing it on the chair beside her chemise. Then all his attention turned to Nyota and the way she looked at him. He was more than a body satisfying someone's erotic curiosity about Vulcans, more than the brain admired throughout the Federation. Only she had ever looked at him that way, as though she desired...accepted...loved...everything about him and would use every bit of power in her smaller, fully human body to protect and cherish him.

"Gloves off, too, Big Man. I want to feel your skin..."

Elevated body temperature caused the leatherlike gloves to stick to Spock's trembling hands. As he stripped off the gloves on his third attempt, he watched Nyota watching him. So small, and yet so complex.

"Nyota, ashayam..." His voice sounded nearly as raw as his emotions felt.

"Come," she said, and when he knelt before her on a square of deep, moss-like padding beneath the bed – perhaps it really was moss – she pulled him into a deep kiss. Spock embraced her as he knelt between her legs, open to him at last. Now that he finally had permission to touch her he didn't want to stop. He smiled when they paused to breathe, pleasantly dazed, and gently pressed her back into a reclining position.

"Allow me," he said, and lowered his mouth between her thighs, meeting no resistance this time. Opening her, he stroked her with his bared, warm fingers and tongue. At his first touch – wet mouth, dry hands, all warm – Nyota moaned and her hips rose up from the bed. Spock licked and stroked her, gently, persuasively, until the slight tightness in her hips eased and a different tension took its place.

"Relax, tal-kam," he said, looking up at her. "Put your arms out at your sides, and open your legs wider."

As she did, her wrists and knees brushed against the tendrils of the plants closest to the bed. Thick green vines curled around her limbs. Nyota gasped and sat up. "What the –" Immediately, she pulled away, and the plants retreated. She glared at a mischievous Spock. "Spock, please tell me these plants aren't sentient."

"I would never ignore your preference for privacy, Nyota. We are the only sentient beings here. However, they do respond to heat and touch. You will observe that I have been careful not to place myself too close to them. Planetary botanists of the Alpha Cachette Natural Resources Service provided satisfactory evidence that these plants are completely harmless."

Nyota's frown was replaced by a giggle. "Next you're going to tell me that these plants are used by the people of Alpha Cachette for the same purposes we are."

"Correct. According to the Women's Orgasm Committee, they are a popular houseplant. They respond to touch by curling up. You may wish to let the plants hold you, but move carefully so that you do not break them. As you noticed they offer no real means of binding a person. Resistance and restraint are primarily psychological. If you wish to imagine them as real bonds for a short period of time, I am willing to make the effort worth your while."

"I'll bet you are." Nyota relaxed her body. "I'm not sure I'll like this but I'm curious."

"Please use your safe word immediately if this activity distresses you."

Nyota cautiously reached towards the edges of the narrow bed, and the cool vines slid loosely over her warm skin. "Not so bad. I'll try it."

Spock gave her a half-smile, lowered his head again, and Nyota fell into a delicious cloud of sensations.

Anticipation and pressure built with each stroke of Spock's tongue against Nyota's sensitive skin. Closer, every second closer, but she couldn't let go yet. She balled up one fist and struck the mattress in frustration.

Spock pulled away and looked at her. "Such impatience is unlike you, Nyota."

"Please – I can't -"

"What more do you want, t'h'yla?"

"Take me."

"Yes. Not here." He stretched out his long fingers still gleaming with her wetness, and tapped the plants. The green tendrils relaxed the light hold on her wrists and ankles and Nyota watched in dazed fascination as they curled back against their stems. She'd have to learn more about them, later. Now she looked up trustingly at Spock, who carefully rose to a standing position, keeping his nearly erect penis away from the edge of the bed, before he leaned down and lifted Nyota into his arms.

Thunder rumbled, and the light filtering in through the coated glass of the roof turned softer as clouds gathered. "You're shaking a little," Nyota murmured. Spock felt her smooth fingertips brush over his arm and trembled a little more. It wasn't the thunder that made him shake. She knew it and he knew that she knew it, and he was glad because it made her want him even more.

They collapsed onto the bed, a broad and sturdy oasis covered in smooth, unadorned sheets. Nyota fell back, opening her arms, and welcomed her mate back. She was so wet now that he slid into her easily, leaning down to kiss her mouth.

She still wore the garter belt and stockings. For a few minutes Spock indulged the both of them with the visual pleasure of watching their bodies join and move while her vulva was framed by the white lace. Then he growled, "I prefer your skin on mine," and they paused, turned and shifted so that he could strip the stockings from her legs and unclasp the garter belt without removing himself from her. No barriers remained. They smiled at each other before the fire between then blazed up again.

Nyota opened wider, let him in deeper. Without tricks, props, toys, or muscle-straining positions, they moved together, touching and kissing familiar places on one another's bodies. Places they'd missed after only several days without uninterrupted time together, time free of stresses and responsibilities.

Rain pelted the glass overhead with increasing intensity. Nyota listened to her own breathing in concert with Spock's as they moved together, her skin beading lightly with sweat in the humid air. One big, warm hand clasped her hip and tilted her; his fingers stroked over her clitoris and she groaned, then gasped as the first wave of pleasure engulfed her. Spock moaned as she tightened around him, and her pleasure carried him over the edge with her.

A little or maybe a long time later, Nyota's eyes and brain focused. Her bondmate had shifted his weight so that he didn't crush her, but it felt lovely to be partially covered by Spock when he was relaxed, warm, and naked and a thunderstorm rumbled overhead. She caressed the back of his neck, and Spock sighed in contentment.

…

Spock dozed, loose and sated. He was vaguely aware of a shift in weight as Nyota left the bed, and the sound of a shower running. Eventually rhythmic noises fully awakened him, and he opened his eyes to see Nyota, nude, gliding through the humid greenhouse air on the red swing.

The sight pleased him immensely, so much that he had an unusually whimsical and illogical thought. Perhaps he could arrange the construction and installation of a similar swing in the small apartment they shared in San Francisco, or in the house he'd purchased for Nyota on New Vulcan. Thanks to Nyota's previous patronage, he knew that Donstelralth's shop was capable of building such things discreetly. Not one word would enter the streams of Vulcan gossip from the shop.

The swing was designed for many recreational uses beyond swinging, of course; this was Alpha Cachette, where no woman went unpleased. Spock visualized one particularly stimulating use of the swing. Nyota slowed the swing and grinned at him.

"Want to try that now, Big Man?" she asked.

"If it pleases you, ashayam."

"It does. You know it does. Come on over here."

She straddled him on the broad seat, her arms around his neck and shoulders and her soft, wet tongue teasing his ears. Spock trembled a little, then carefully pushed his feet against the floor and set the swing into a slow motion, clutching one of the bars of the swing with one hand and holding Nyota safely with the other. The arc of movement would have seemed barely perceptible to an observer, but Nyota felt it and gasped, clasping her internal muscles around his hardness in response to each slight rise and fall of the swing. She felt him struggling to maintain control, groaning as he kept the swing moving. Nyota clasped the bars with both hands, steadying herself so that she could push down, then rise up, then down again.

Later that evening, Starfleet personnel were invited to a casual farewell party organized by Alpha Cachette's Department of Defense. Nyota knew that there was plenty of time before they had to wash up, dress, and steady their minds for an evening of professional chatter. The party was preceded by an afternoon lecture presented by the Women's Orgasm Committee, an event co-sponsored rather suddenly and enthusiastically by Dr. McCoy.

"Ahh. Nyota. Va'ashiv sanoi (again please)…"

Nyota suspected that she and Spock might be a bit late to the lecture.

…

Port Town Centre

The flat stones covering the walkway outside the restaurant were still damp from the rainfall, and Mayor Aurelia Tutto's foot slipped. Jim quickly caught her, keeping her upright.

"It's okay, Aurelia. You're safe with me." One strong arm slid around her shoulders, protectively, before he let her go and offered her his arm in a gentlemanly fashion.

Although promiscuous, Jim was reliable in some ways, she thought. He would never establish an exclusive relationship with her, but he'd been very kind and attentive during their tryst. It was a safe assumption that Jim was probably similarly consistent about standards aboard the Enterprise.

Jim stroked her hand where it lay in the crook of his elbow. "If you ever have any problems here on Alpha Cachette, I will help you and your people if I can. Not just because of the Federation. Ask me for small things too. You've let me take up your time. I owe you."

"Jim, we're a backwater among trade planets; things stay pretty quiet unless somebody brings trouble. Then we just deal with it. If you ever come back here on leave..." Aurelia paused and made herself appear as though she didn't already miss Jim, slipping casually into the local pidgin. "We'll do this only if we are both unattached at the time, you sabi? I don't hop da fence fi tek mi neighbor's fruit."

Jim laughed. "I understand." He lowered his voice, mindful of the passerby in the broad street. "So is it all right if I sleep over tonight?"

"Good company is always welcome at my house," Aurelia said. "You're still the only name granted clearance on my home guest list this week, and I don't take back invitations. Plenty space for you in my bed, Captain."

"Thank you, ma'am," he drawled teasingly. "I'm pleased to come aboard."

The tension in his shoulders eased away. Jim was relieved to know that he'd have her comforting presence beside him all night long.

Nightmares came more easily when he slept alone.

…

A Private House on Alpha Cachette

The rental information from the Women's Orgasm Committee included a map of the plants inside the partially glass house, and the edible plants were highlighted in orange. Washed and dressed in civilian clothing, Spock and Nyota explored each small botanical zone inside the house, picking leaves and small fruit and placing it into a basket. They cleaned the fruit and sat at a small table near a window with a view of roads and canals, eating what they'd found and looking up information about each plant using the technology built into the house.

As their conversation wandered, Spock listened to Nyota discuss Charlene and Stelen. Although her level of analysis was complex and perceptive, he found himself wondering yet again (it was hardly worth counting, although he knew exactly many times he had pondered this) why human females were so fascinated by intimate relationships.

"If Lieutenant Masters tells Stelendos that his pursuit is unwelcome, he will cease and the situation is resolved," he shrugged.

"Oh, sure. Simple as that." Nyota rolled her eyes.

"Stelendos may lack life experience in some areas, but he is reasonable."

"Remember what it was like to be younger and unattached, sweetheart. Sometimes a person knows what is reasonable but doesn't behave in ways which seem rational or predictable."

A flush almost as green as the edible leaf Spock held at the end of his eating utensil flowed over his cheekbones and ears. "Indeed. I remember clearly several instances of certain...aberrant behavior I allowed myself during my pursuit of you."

Clearly, Spock recalled memories of his own muscle-flexing displays of dominance as he protected Nyota, desperate calls home to his mother for advice, a waltz during which he struggled to keep his body three inches away from Nyota's under the gaze of Starfleet personnel, a pane of shatterproof glass put to its limit as the result of another of his dominant displays, awkward realizations that his colleagues had 'discovered' the cozy restaurant where he'd previously been blissfully secluded with Nyota, and reckless hoverbike activities. At least they'd both worn helmets during that episode. There was no armor for being love-struck.

"Oh, my love. None of it bothered me. I know you're awfully hard on yourself about those things, but I don't regret any of it, 'cause I have you." Nyota reached across the table and opened the palm of her hand above Spock's.

A peculiar energy tingled in the air between their skins, some unseen force that slightly resisted the pressure of her hand. It was an odd, quiet phenomenon which she'd observed after the first few times she was alone with Spock, neither of them working, both of them listening to and talking about personal subjects with the other. Sometimes when she pressed harder, a softly glowing light appeared.

The energy appeared unpredictably, and only when they were alone. Spock never wanted to discuss it, perhaps because there was no logical explanation. He simply accepted it, as he seemed to accept everything about Nyota. Not for the first time Nyota wished she'd been brave enough to ask Amanda about it while she still could - do you ever feel...some sort of pressure in the air, see a light between you and Sarek? But of course it was embarrassing, and perhaps impossible, to ask your fiancé's mother questions about what transpired before or during intimate moments - post-coital or otherwise.

Spock set down the leaf he held and gently clasped both of her hands, looking at her.

Love.

Nyota knew that he wouldn't say anything aloud, but she accepted it.

…

Lecture Hall

Town Center, Port Town, Alpha Cachette

Anyone from the Enterprise crew with an interest in women's sexual pleasure was welcome to attend the evening lecture. Still hurt by Charlene's refusal to accept his proposal, Stelen had considered staying away, but he'd had enough of walking moodily along the beach. Although his head spun with confused thoughts about emotions and bondmates and courtship, his curiosity compelled him to attend. He slid into a seat in the most distant, dimly lit seat in the domed building just before the lecture began. Stelen scolded himself for trying to find Charlene among the rows of seats but saw neither the pretty engineer nor Scotty. Following the behavior of the humans around him, the young Vulcan applauded politely as the leader of the Women's Orgasm Committee strode onto the stage, smiled, and began to speak.

The things she spoke of went beyond the anatomy lesson Dr. McCoy had generously taught to Stelen and Serran aboard the Enterprise. There were holo projections of the humanoid clitoris – its full structure resembled a bird with partially spread wings. There was more – useful information on what to do with one's mouth, and hands, and...he had not known anyone might do some of those other things! How to breathe to avoid fatigue in certain positions. Suggestions for gradual timing and pacing – heat and cold – how to please a lady with a sore back – or one who was tired or tense.

Most intriguing was the psychological section of the lecture. Stelen heard knowing laughter from some humans in the audience after the chairwoman made certain comments. He also found some of the chairwoman's remarks amusing, but other references mystified him, and he knew that it was not a matter of his Standard vocabulary. He'd spent time with Charlene every day since meeting her, and thought that he understood her. Now he realized it might have helped to ask certain questions.

Listen, the lecturer said. Observe her responses to you, and act accordingly.

Stelen had not attended elite Vulcan academies, but he learned quickly and liked to study. It was now clear to him that a woman was nothing like a mathematical equation or a piece of wood. Perhaps not listening had been his biggest mistake with Charlene.

He leaned forward in his seat and listened, an intense expression on his face.

…

Next Morning

Transport Station, Starfleet Base on Alpha Cachette

"I can't wait to get back to my Enterprise," Jim sighed happily. He rolled one shoulder slightly, working out the last kink from a busy, enjoyable night with Mayor Tutto. As soon as the ground crew announced that all systems were in place, Jim thanked them and stepped onto the transporter pad beside Sulu, Chekov, Scotty, and Spock. Security personnel were already aboard, along with some bridge and engineering crew. Transport systems engaged, and they beamed up.

Charlene had deliberately chosen to beam up in the group immediately following the one including Scotty. Donstelralth and the Vulcan apprentices Serran and Stelen would soon go their own way, taking a large shipment of wood and tools back to New Vulcan aboard a freighter. Charlene couldn't bear the thought of simply returning to the Enterprise without saying goodbye to Stelen, if he was willing to speak to her.

He was, only he didn't actually say very much. They stood a few feet apart and looked at each other carefully as Charlene tried to say a few pleasant, noncommittal things..

"Serran?" Donstelralth gave the other apprentice a sharp look and jerked his head to the side, indicating his wish to give the other some privacy. Serran almost scowled - he was intrigued to discover that the bashful Stelen was capable of some sort of emotional attachment with human women - but obeyed.

"I meant what I said yesterday about contacting me. I'd like to hear from you sometimes, know what happens to you."

"Yes." Stelen bit his lip, stumbled over his words. "Please think of me as friend, and safe person to contact if ever you come to New Vulcan. Charlene, I know they tell you, some Vulcans not like humans. But change may come. If you ever want -"

"Starfleet personnel, engineering group 2-A."

Larry Riddle strode past on his way to the transporter pad. "Hey, Charlene. Ready?" He cast a puzzled glance towards the Vulcan, nodded politely, and walked on.

Charlene said, "Stelen! Maybe we'll see each other again. Stay safe. I'll be thinking of you."

"But -" Stelen's fingers clasped hers. He looked into her eyes again. The stricken expression on his face indicated that one didn't need to spend years locked away in a Vulcan monastery to refine touch telepathic skills.

He knows.

Her chin trembling, Charlene pulled her hand away and hurried over to the transporter pad. It would be easier if she didn't look at him, but she couldn't stop herself. His dark eyes never left hers until her image became a mass of swirling particles and she disappeared from view.

Serran had to say Stelen's name twice before he turned and blinked at him.

"Stelen? Donstelralth asked that we accompany him to the lumber exporters," Serran said quietly.

"Uh...yes. I am ready." It was irrational to stare at the transporter pad as though he could bring Charlene back through sheer force of will. The apprentices turned and walked back through the gate.

Years of working with Stelen had taught Serran when it was acceptable to tease his fellow apprentice about personal matters, and when it was not. Although Serran intended to allot a few more years of his life to sensual pleasure before seeking a bondmate, he had no more desire to become a lonely 'bare branch' living on New Vulcan than Stelen. So all he said was, "I believe that I understand why your parting from Charlene is disagreeable."

Stelen growled an unclear reply; Serran let it pass. Perhaps Stelen would gain control over his emotions more easily if he could express his concerns verbally.

Serran tried again. "Will this parting be temporary or permanent, Stelen?"

"No."

Serran looked sideways at the stony expression on Stelen's face. "Your response is unclear."

"It is clear to me," the younger Vulcan said cryptically.

Hurt feelings sharpened both one's tongue and one's resolve, apparently. Serran sought to reassure his friend and remind him of his place in the matter. "I doubt that Charlene Masters rejected you easily. Obviously I do not know her as well as you do, but she does not seem capable of deliberate cruelty. She pursues Federation business."

"True. And I am capable of pursuing Miss Masters."

…

Aboard the Enterprise

The familiar beeps and lights of the Enterprise greeted the bridge crew. Nyota looked around at the ship's curving work spaces and devices and interfaces and sighed happily. Spock looked down at her, amused; she smiled up at him.

Sometimes it's more than just a ship, sweetheart. It's home.

In a manner of speaking, yes, tal-kam (dear one). Wherever we may go, in flight or planetside, my home is always with you.

…

In the Transporter Room, the Enterprise

Charlene watched Scotty joking and talking cheerfully with the crew. Pleased to be reunited with his beloved Enterprise, he reached out and gave one of the transporter control boards an affectionate pat.

Well, ain't that something, she thought. Perhaps Scotty's not the only one with a rival. I may be in competition with the ship.

…

Three Days Later

Coffee break, the Enterprise

Nyota gave Charlene a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "It must have been difficult, but just let yourself deal with it in your own time. You can't predict when or how sparks will fly with someone."

"Yeah, almost literally. One time he touched my hand and I felt something kind of like an electrical shock – it wasn't static, we were on the beach."

Nyota almost dropped her cup of tea. "What did you say?"

"Between our fingers, some kind of energy - sounds silly, I know, but there was something. Not exactly a shock, like when you rub your feet on carpet, but something. What's wrong?"

Nyota took a deep breath. "Did you happen to get Stelen's contact information on New Vulcan?"

"Yeah, I did - despite everything. He's a decent guy. I thought we might keep in touch platonically."

"Listen..." Nyota closed her eyes, scolding herself for being disloyal to the man she considered a friend. "I like Scotty. He's a truly good man and my friend. I would never deliberately harm him. But if you two ever part ways...I know you aren't asking for my advice, but maybe you should keep in touch with Stelen. Just to find out, you understand."

Charlene looked perplexed. "Is this some kind of Vulcan attraction thing, what I felt?"

"I don't know because I've only been with one Vulcan. Stelen might be all wrong for you. Maybe it's only physical. Maybe you're a magnet for Vulcans and you'd feel that same buzz from any Vulcan interested in you. I have absolutely no idea. All I'm saying is maybe you could get to know each other, but only if and when you're both single. Be careful, of course. And be kind to Scotty."

Charlene shrugged and tried to smile. "I probably imagined it – there was a lot of tension between us that day."

"You're not the fanciful type, Char." Nyota noticed Charlene's averted eyes.

Scotty came over and greeted them. He briefly caressed Charlene's shoulder, and the two of them moved a short distance away as Sulu and Kirk came over to talk with Nyota.

Nyota watched Scotty and Charlene while she listened to the Captain and helmsman. Scotty pressed a small wrapped gift into Charlene's hand.

Too flat for a ring, but too small for a box of tea, Nyota thought. She turned away to respond to something Jim said. When she looked back, Charlene was admiring an openwork metal pendant and chain as Scotty smiled at her. Such a thing wasn't practical for an engineer – engineers didn't wear jewelry in work environments – but it was thoughtful of Scotty.

Nyota sighed. She must stay out of it. Stelen, Scotty, and Charlene would make their own decisions.

…

Twenty-four hours later in Standard Time

The Enterprise

Spock and Nyota were already working split shifts again, so Nyota was relaxing alone in their shared cabin when her communicator chimed. Charlene's message asked if she could drop by to talk.

Uh-oh, Nyota thought. She replied immediately. Come over. I've got plenty of time.

"More tea? This is nice. Thank you," Nyota said, accepting the box from Charlene.

"Scotty still has a bit of his stash left, and my grandmother said I should never pay a visit empty-handed. Nyota, I probably could have just sent you a message about this or run it through a translator, but..." Charlene decrypted a message she'd received on her personal communication channel on her padd. "Could you please help me translate this? The translation software will tell me something about this message from Stelen, but...the way it looks, I just had the feeling that the software wouldn't tell me enough."

Nyota read the message from Stelen. There were a few sentences of polite greetings in Standard, nothing romantic or even especially friendly; the young Vulcan had obviously produced those lines with translation software. Below that, however, she saw an image of a few columns of elegant, Vulcan script. Nyota knew nothing about Stelen's formal schooling, but at some point he'd learned to write beautiful stylized Vulcan, flowing with sensuous curves. He must have known Charlene couldn't read it but had expressed himself in the language he knew best. The form and style of the Vulcan script reminded Nyota of a collection of ancient manuscripts she'd seen in archival holos. All of the manuscripts had contained love poetry, some of it very explicit.

"Let's go through this line by line." Nyota moved her finger along the script, speaking the words aloud. The content of Stelen's letter appeared innocent; greetings to Charlene, appreciation for her kindness, admiration for her intelligence and aesthetic appeal (Charlene looked pleased). There were allusions to missing her conversation and a wish to meet again. Nothing controversial.

"I should tell you honestly, though, Charlene...the way he's written it..."

Nyota tried to explain the visual similarities between Stelen's script and the love poetry she'd seen.

"...but that's only my interpretation, so use your own judgment. But you already knew, didn't you? You knew that Stelen wasn't just writing you a friendly letter."

"I knew it. Damn, I knew." All pretense of calm gave way, and Charlene's serene expression crumpled into tears.

"Oh, Charlene, I'm so sorry." Nyota put an arm around Charlene's shoulders.

What else could she say?

...

Captain Kirk's Ready Room, the Enterprise

Jim stroked the tiny metal vulva pendant that Mayor Aurelia Tutto had given him. He smiled, remembering how they'd looked into each other's eyes as she slipped the chain around his neck. If his Starfleet work ever brought him back into the orbit of Alpha Cachette – or even if it didn't - he intended to keep his promise and check in on her, doing what he could to help her and the small community she governed. Maybe he was far from perfect, but he was learning how to be nicer to his lovers.

Jim lifted the pendant to his lips, kissed it, and then tucked it out of sight below his black uniform undershirt.

…

Several weeks later, interplanetary gossip found its way aboard via a subspace channel. Nyota listened to an indiscreet navigator aboard a pirate vessel describe an encounter in a bar on a barely governed non-Federation planetoid.

"Met a humanoid, guy tried to run a scam on me. Name's Steeple, Steep or something. Said he knew how to surf, can you believe it? I asked if he'd ever surfed on Alpha Cachette. Said he had, but wasn't going back there 'cause of 'legal trouble' - and anyway that planet's 'run by chicks', he said. Somebody said he's ex-Starfleet. They must have kicked his stupid ass out, 'cause Starfleet's partly run by chicks too! Numbnut. Anyway, he brags about how he's made all this money through con games, transporting drugs through Fed routes without getting caught…I said not me – I make more than enough moving foodstuffs.

"So he got angry 'cause I wouldn't fall for his routine. Then the fool tried to walk out with my jacket, pretended to mix it up with his. No way! I spent a heap of credits to get that jacket armor-plated – he wasn't getting no five-finger discount on my jacket! I had to let him go with a few bruises, because all of a sudden one of his arms sticks out and something drags him by his arm across the floor and out the door like a tractor beam. It pulls him into a vehicle with some short dude, and they take off. All I could think was Man, I gotta buy me one of those beam things – that'll keep my crew in line!"

…

Several Months Later

A Planetside Mission

Charlene fired her phaser again, and the writhing, wormlike creature went still. She glanced around, but saw none of her away team in the surrounding vegetation. Her skin prickled with awareness as though she were being watched. Taking deep breaths in the damp air, she muttered a quick prayer for her crewmates; maybe at least one of the redshirts had survived the sudden attack unscathed. No one answered her urgent communicator messages to the rest of the away team. Nor was there any reply from the Enterprise, where Larry Riddle manned the transporter pad while Scotty was on leave. Her phaser still held enough charge to help her survive for several days, but after the power died she was on her own.

Nobody's guaranteed a happy ending to life, but I'd hoped for better than this.

Suddenly another tentacle slithered out of the bushes towards her feet. Another rustle behind her came too quickly to react. Thinking herself surrounded, Charlene tried to turn around, but couldn't move before a thick pressure looped around her waist and dragged her away from the first tentacle's grasp. She drew her elbow back and raised her phaser to shoot her way free.

A powerful hand seized her wrist, stopping her form firing. "No, Charlene. I want that arm."

She froze. Someone held her against a broad chest that felt even warmer than the humid forest air. He lifted her, his other arm under her knees, and she looked up and gasped.

"Stelen?"

The face looking down at her was a little more rugged, the expression a bit harder than she remembered, but she'd know him anywhere. He'd certainly shown up in her dreams often enough during the past year, more frequently now that Scotty had suggested that the two of them "take a break" while he figured out some undefined relationship concerns.

Charlene tried not to struggle under the burden of regret, but the past two lonely months pained her. She'd lobbied for inclusion in the potentially dangerous mission thinking the challenge would help her focus on Starfleet instead of being alone. Nyota urged Charlene to request personal leave, maybe return to Earth to find solace in the love of family. "You could even go visit my family instead, if you're worried about your folk asking why you aren't married yet," Nyota said. "Instead of discussing your status the Uhuras will take you to lectures and concerts and feed you good food. If you want to meet someone, they know a nice astrophysicist from New Kampala..."

Charlene had thanked Nyota, only half listening while she thought of the mission. If she got hurt, so what? Her family and friends would care, Scotty might send a gift or pay an awkward visit. Would she really matter to anyone? Now she almost wished she'd accepted Nyota's offer, despite her cautious relief at seeing Stelen.

Something rustled near Stelen's feet, and he quickly stepped out of range of a smaller tentacled creature. Lifting Charlene easily, he moved her over one shoulder to free one hand so that he could fire his own phaser. The tentacle shrank back into the underbrush. Stelen hurried away from the area, taking long strides.

"Dangerous beasts live in certain type of bush here," he said, moving her so that his arms supported her shoulders and knees and he could see her face again. Charlene remembered his way of talking; he sometimes omitted parts of Standard speech in a kind of Vulcan efficiency.

Charlene pressed her free hand flat against Stelen's chest, as though confirming that he were real. Torn places in her uniform brought her skin into contact with his bare arms. After months of infrequent, politely worded messages between her private comm on the Enterprise and the comm Stelen rented on New Vulcan, she'd almost forgotten just how big Stelen was. The other Vulcans she'd met were taller, but Stelen was broad-shouldered and solid. She imagined him lowering his warm, hard body on top of her own, kissing her mouth and neck, and quivered involuntarily. Stelen inhaled sharply but said nothing.

"Why are you here, Stelen? This part of the planet is barely settled."

"Raw materials for business on planet. Finished apprenticeship. My life changed. Long story. I take you away from here now. Please do as I ask, so we leave safely." He indicated that she should climb onto his back, which she did.

Stelen ran through the trees, carrying her as easily as though she were a hunter's catch. The bouncing movement made it difficult to speak.

Seeing the gentle Vulcan in the role of intrepid rescuer felt odd...although Charlene remembered Stelen telling her he'd grown up in a rough neighborhood, learning to fend for himself on a Vulcan colony before gaining his apprenticeship on New Vulcan.

Could she trust him? He'd never been cruel to her, not even when she'd rejected him on Alpha Cachette. At least he was taking her out of the forest with its strange, deadly creatures. When they reached an area with thinner vegetation, Charlene cautiously pulled off one small metal earring and threw it onto the ground to mark the trail. Next she managed to pull a few expendable items from her utility belt, tossing them down without Stelen noticing. Maybe Starfleet would search for her.

The vegetation thinned and Stelen carried Charlene into a clearing. A small ship painted with maroon, brown, and green camouflage patterns stood in its center. Stelen set her down on her feet.

"We go in my ship."

Hmm. This doesn't seem to involve furniture making. What's he gotten himself into?

"Your ship? What about my crewmates? Is any of this illegal? I've got to contact the Enterprise."

"Charlene, not argue, please. Others here on planet take Enterprise crew already to settlement with doctor. Your crewmates told us away team got separated fighting beasts, and you were lost alone in forest. I said I go find you."

"Who are these 'others'? Where are you taking me, Stelen?" She gestured at the ship as Stelen tapped a control on his belt, opening the hatch.

"Safe place," he gave her a sidelong look, "but no more beds. You take my bed. I will sleep on floor."

Charlene got the impression that he preferred not to remain there, but this was not the time to debate sleeping arrangements.

"Stelen, you need to tell me what's going on. I thought you were training to become a professional carpenter!"

Vulcan or not, there was no mistaking the flirtation in his voice and smile.

"Lieutenant Charlene, I am a professional carpenter now…and I am other things as well."

To be continued…perhaps.

The chapter title "Nothing Good Gets Away" is taken from a 1958 letter by John Steinbeck to his oldest son, Thom, in which he provides kind and honest advice on love. Read this charming letter in its entirety at the Brainpickings dot org site; look for the January 12, 2012 post.