Disclaimer: I don't not own Star Trek or any of it's characters. Do you THINK I would be here if I did?! So I do not in any way shape or form own any of the plot or the characters. They belong to whoever owns 'em. I just took the general idea for a test jaunt. So, don't sue me...not that it would be beneficial, as I am a poor university student, yadda yadda yadda.
Authors Note: I wanted to thank all my reviewers. Firstly, you all rock! Your comments, advice, and praise has helped me immensely in the writing of this next chapter. Please continue to tell me your thoughts, and feed this starving writer! Also, sorry for the long wait for this chapter, other stories, university work and a huge dose of real life caught up with me.
What A Hand Towel Can't Hide – 15.873 Seconds, An Eternity, But yet, somehow, Not Quite Enough..
Fresh incense flared in the fire pot, the barely discernable hiss of the fragrant leaves catching flame seeming surreally loud in the near silence of the room. He sat facing the roaring blaze, mostly shadowed in the red-shaded gloom, his stark sable robe, embroidered with the silver-hued runes of his clan was the only thing that illuminated him amongst the flickering darkness. The bold color keeping him from melding into the scarlet backdrop entirely, anchoring his body to the physical world while his mind wandered through worlds much less solid and defined. Casting his mind not only through the experiences of his own years, but through centuries of instinctual memory and the hard won logic of his ancestors. Healing...thinking...and searching for way to solve his current dilemma...
However...that was of course before the universe delivered to him something far more fascinating and deliciously welcome through the very arch of his bathroom door.
He had been sitting atop his mattress deep in thought when it happened, still trying to regain himself as he mediated, his long legs crossed, his fingers steepled at his chin as he concentrated. His keen senses shook him from his contemplation as he sensed the rooms changing dynamic, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as a distortion wave warped the door in front of him, twisting and moulding the very design of the ship as the phenomenon deposited his unexpected guest squarely into his possession. A timely and fortuitous happening indeed!
By his most accurate calculations.....of which to this very day, he still could not entirely affirm, he had had approximately 15.873 seconds in which to simply stare. Never in all his years had he ever been rendered more surprised and utterly speechless then he was now. It was as if his brain had simply switched off, shuddering to a screaming halt with any words that might have left his lips, dieing at the sight of that lightly tanned, and gloriously naked form. It was him...Leonard.....His Leonard..
It occurred to him many hours later, long after the southern surgeon had winked into view on his doorstep, beads of water still running in demure rivers down his chest, sheening his lean thighs in a fluxing shimmer of moisture, accentuating the subtle muscles that existed there. That in a way the sharp tongued man had finally succeeded in doing what he had been trying to achieve for over long four years. Not only had the man rendered him speechless, his brain stunned into an unaccustomed silence, but he had done it without even so much as parting his lips. The man certainly knew how to ...as a human would call it: 'get under his skin..' He always had.
However despite the unknown phenomenon that had engulfed the ship, he had to admit to himself that in truth, he wasn't exactly unsurprised, because if it was going to be anyone showing up dripping wet in his chambers, it would be Doctor Leonard McCoy....
He stood there, as naked as the sandstone etchings of his ancestors ancient gods, proud, strong, serene...and entirely and utterly obviously to his gaze. A small brown wash cloth rubbed briskly over his face, covering his eyes as he took a few small steps from the door, the towel now rubbing through his light brown hair, making the thick strands stand up every which way as he thoroughly dried it. The mans scent was thick in the air until all he could smell was the scent of the pine forests and the untamed wilderness of Earth, with the natural musk of the man spreading in place of the native spices of his planet. Fitting.
He still had his eyes closed, now running the towel along his neck and chest, the mans pleasured sigh at the motion nearly making him bolt upright, forcing himself to suppress his own desire and need for this strange, temperamental human man.
But even as his fingers twitched fitfully along the long, draping hems of his sleeves, he found that he couldn't tear his eyes away, unable to do anything but watch that small brown towel as it slowly...so slowly, rubbed along that tanned skin. Skimming along his lightly defined pectoral muscles, and then trailing down...down towards his navel, drying those light brown hairs that speckled his belly, before tracing along the edge of the odd scar or freckle as though the cloth was mapping the course of an entire lifetime then simply drying a mans body.
He was so far gone that the first thing on his mind was purely the physical. Of course, like any green blooded Vulcan, he yearned for a bond..to take his chosen into himself, and to give himself to him in turn. Even the thought of the slightest of mind touches brushed alluring along the edges of his unstable mental barriers as the siren song of his ancient race called to him, singing songs of connection and oneness within oneself and bond. The song was always the same, the tone elegant and strong, but yet it was the melody that always echoed in his mind as unfulfilled and yearning. His melody..
But now, even the wish for a mental connection was overwhelmed by the need for something much more solid and concrete. He simply wanted the man. He wanted all of him. All he might be allowed to have, regardless if it was only for this moment, or if he might be fortunate enough to be given it all. To know this strange human man as deeply as two lovers could truely know one another, through the body, mind, and soul. 'Hearts mate.' His mind breathed again, resounding in his head like the first roll of thunder that foretold a storm. It was now upon them..
And for a moment, there was nothing he wanted more then to simply touch him, to feel that newly naked skin sliding across his own, to trail a hand through that sparse chest hair, and make him arch and murmur as his hand arrowed down. He wanted to hear the man slowly come apart under his hands, he wanted to hear that southern accent stutter and break across his lips until he was moaning nonsense and empty syllables into his eager ears.
Somehow, he found it as no surprise that it would Leonard McCoy who would be the one to bring out the human side of him....
He could think of nothing to broach the silence, as for once, the proper words did not spring easily to his tongue..nor could he think of any action that would be appropriate in this situation. As it was, it was all he could do but ignore his basis instincts, trying to control his worrisomely unruly thoughts as they plied him with growingly crude and rather rash suggestions...
Logic and courtesy urged him to rise, to break the silence and ...perhaps offer him a robe, or a spare shirt. Maybe even switch on his tri-corder and scan the area for any lingering sign of the phenomenon in the guise of duty and science...But yet he did nothing. He simply let his gaze rove over the man, taking in not only his exposed skin, but his demeanour...his body language, something he had rarely, if ever had the chance to observe so openly.
The man's barriers seemed as striped as his uniform, he seemed more relaxed, more authentic. Unlike the majority of humans he had met over his lifetime, he seemed supremely comfortable in his own skin, displaying both his body's wonders and imperfections proudly, as if daring the universe to make a comment, whether it was agreeable or otherwise.
He also seemed somehow younger, as if his uniform added to his years, weighing him down under years professionalism and responsibility.
Seeing him like this was like fitting another piece into a vast, years long jig-saw puzzle.
But even as this all occurred to him, the hint of something else, something far more deeply hidden lurked on his face. It was present in the slight shadows under his eyes, or just hidden in the scrunched part of his brow..this was different, mental. There was something on the inside that plagued him.
But then mere seconds after the half formed thought had made it's mark, it flitted away, vanishing off his face like a drop of rain that sizzles into oblivion in the desert heat. Unmarked, like it had never been there at all. Why? What secrets did his man shy from? A man who backed down from nothing and no one...
Shifting on his cushioned rugs, his mind raced. He had wanted to approach this issue between them in his own way, when he was more settled in mind, and rested in body. When he had had the chance to sort through his emotions before he, in a sense, released them on this man.
But as usual, Leonard McCoy, never made it easy. Truly only he would have invaded his room in such a manner, as unclothed and...enticing as he was, it was strangely typical of the doctor. A man who was as stimulating to his mind and intellect as he was to his body and ...as a human might say, to his heart as well..
Finally lowering his steepled hands, he slowly let them fall on either thigh, unsure if it was simply a convenient place to rest them, or if he was trying in some small way to stop himself from giving in to temptation and going to the man. It was impossible to tell, even to him.
He could feel the quiet, rolling heat from the fire pot as its warmth soaked into him, heating the newly exposed flesh of his chest that his loosely tied robe had revealed, the dark, sable color accentuating the subtle olive tone of his skin, the color seeming to pick up the silver embroidery as it glinted in the red-tinged light. The color seeming to mirror the feverish pace of his mind as it search for a solution.
It was then that he realized that in the end, he could do and say nothing, despite what logic, normalcy, and even courtesy might demand, it was Leonard now that would determine his next move. It would be him, whether consciously or not, that would tell him what he needed to do and say. As Jim so often remarked: 'The ball was in the Doctors court' now.
All that was left was for him to look up, and open his eyes...
A/N: Howdy all, I hope this chapter lived up to all of your waiting, and expectations. Hopefully I didn't disappoint you. I find after a significant break from any story it is hard to regain the mood in which it was written, so I spent about a week getting back into the story and re-thinking the contents of this chapter before I posted it. I had originally planned to finish up the story in this chapter, but found I wanted to get Spock POV in before the grand finish. I have to say I find it hard to write the last few chapters of a story regardless of its contents, but this time it proved more challenging then I had anticipated, hence the long wait! Please let me know what you think, and if you still want an end to this story. I know there has been a significant break from updating (My BAD! Sorry!), so I want to make sure there is still an interest in this fic before I invest time in writing the final chapter. Hope to hear from you all soon!