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Beyond Dreams 1 OUT OF PRINT
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ALL THIS TIME by M.E. Carter
THE TRIBBLE WITH TROUBLES by Dana Austin Marsh and Gena Moretti
TO DEFY THE NIGHT by C. Liane de Maler
REVELATION by Phaedra Morgan
ENEMY MINE by Greywolf the Wanderer
COMMAND SEMINAR by Kaki
THE TIE THAT BINDS by Dana Austin Marsh
CALL ME BROTHER by Deanna Gray
ARECIBO REVISITED by Dr. T’Rhys
ODYSSEY by Rosemarie Heaton
SWEET TALK by Gena Moretti
AND WE FALL IN LOVE by Kathy Stanis
PACING THE CAGE by Jenna Hilary Sinclair
From All This Time by M.E. Carter
"I have never kissed a man. I considered the commissioner's act an assault,
nothing more."
Kirk's breath caught in his throat. Familiar warmth was coiling in his belly, a
sweet tide of arousal, but overlaying that was a feeling he could scarcely name—protectiveness
and tenderness and belonging such as he had known few times in his life. It came
to him suddenly how extraordinary it was that a link between a Vulcan and a
non-telepathic human should have formed spontaneously. Strongly compatible,
Spock had said. Kirk felt the truth of that, finally understanding that the
mysterious force which drew any two people together had been operating in their
lives for a very long time.
We're not falling in love because we work together, Kirk realized. We work
together so well because all this time…we've been falling in love.
Very gently he squeezed the warm hand still resting in his, then released it and
slid lightly off the desk. When he saw that Spock accepted what he was going to
do, he stepped even closer, took that beautiful face in both hands, and
carefully touched his mouth to the Vulcan's.
It felt like coming home. Spock's lips beneath his were warm and yielding; his
breath, intoxicating. Kirk held himself quiet, drawing away after only a moment,
but immediately the dark eyes opened and a small sound came from the back of the
Vulcan's throat. His captain captured it, swallowed it, pressing their mouths
together once more, this time tracing the moist inner lip with his tongue. Still
he kept his touch undemanding, sensing that his partner was not ready for more.
When he needed to breathe he reluctantly stepped away, dropping his hands with
one last, lingering caress.
"Now," he said quietly, "you have kissed a man." He smiled a little, faintly
surprised at being able to speak at all. "I sincerely hope you will want to do
it again."
From
The Tribble with Troubles by Dana Austin Marsh and Gena Moretti
"Lonnnely, I'm sooo lonnnely, I need somebodeee and something to eeeat," Cahanta
trilled mournfully as she scrunched her mottled, furry body along the corridor.
Like the rest of her race she had six short little legs. Legs so short they were
completely hidden by her fur, and ended in tiny suction cup like feet. With legs
and feet like this, she needed time and great perseverance for her to get
anywhere. Usually, it was unnecessary for her to move far, since she was born in
a crowd and soon produced companions on her own while a multitude of others
around her were doing the same. There were always loving mates within reach,
and, on her home planet, food was close by, since she could eat just about
anything.
Cahanta had no idea where everyone had disappeared to. It was such a short time
ago that she had companions just everywhere. Now they were all gone. The only
thing she knew for certain was that if she didn't get some lovin' vibrations and
a little sustenance soon, she and the eight little fur balls inside her were
going to expire.
Desperation gave her strength as she reached a door marked Uhura, N., Lt., and
Cahanta began awkwardly suctioning herself upward into sensor range. The door
whooshed open, Cahanta released the suction and her furry little body tumbled
into the room. One whiff of the perfumed air told her there wasn't so much as a
birdseed lying around. So much for sustenance. However, although faint, there
were some good, loving vibrations floating around the room. She couldn't tell if
they were the leftovers of the room's lawful occupant or from one of her own
kind also longing for companionship. Whichever it might be, the feelings were
enough to prompt a further investigation.
¤¤¤¤
Upon entering his quarters, with Spock hard on his heels as usual, James Kirk
went straight to his desk, dropped the tapes he carried into the “in” box and
started to sit in his chair. At the last second, he paused, twisted around to
check the seat, then gratefully eased his butt onto the cushioned surface.
"Jim, I assure you that every last tribble has been removed from this ship,"
Spock patiently re-re-reassured, mentally noting to himself that this was the
third time in the past hour that Kirk had taken this fast becoming automatic
precaution. "I would remind you, in any case, that even if you were to sit on
one, you would come to no harm. Tribbles have no teeth."
They had just returned from setting the great wheels of bureaucracy in motion to
replace the poisoned grain. Kirk had been informed that the tribbles had been
bequeathed to the Klingons, which had pleased him right down to his toes. He
still couldn't believe they were all gone, but everyone kept assuring him that
they were just that, all gone.
Increasingly, more than anything else right now, Kirk wanted to relax and unwind.
He needed… he needed some good loving from the best lover he had ever known. But
could he talk him into it this time of day? They still had a few hours of their
duty shift ahead of them.
"Hmmm," Kirk hummed, eyeing Spock speculatively. Opening their link he sent warm
and willing, as well as hopeful, feelings to his mate. "But you do."
"Is that an invitation to take a bite out of your derriere?" Spock's body
suddenly changed from gracefully efficient to gracefully sexy, as he moved
toward Kirk's side of the desk.
Smiling with appreciative seductiveness, Kirk slipped out of the chair and into
his mate's arms. "Well, maybe not a bite. But," one finger came up to trace the
firm lips that never ceased to amaze him with their sensual softness, "I
wouldn't object if you happened to be in the mood to nibble a little."
Instead of pointing out the inappropriate time and the minor detail of their
still being on duty, Spock realized that what only he could offer his mate was
needed badly and needed now, not later tonight. Immediately Spock began
maneuvering the two of them toward the beckoning expanse of the double bed on
the other side of the screen. Along the way, he contented himself with nibbling
the succulent lips, smooth throat and intriguing rounded ears. The appetizers,
one might say, to whet his appetite while he got around to disrobing the main
course.
Despite his fast growing lust, Kirk still had the presence of mind, upon
reaching the bed, to yank back the covers and check under both pillows for
interloping furry distractions. Spock sighed in exasperation and tumbled his
paranoid lover onto the bed, following him down and pinning him right where he
wanted to be. "I assure you once again, Jim, there are no more tribbles on the
Enterprise."
From To Defy the Night by C. Liane de Maler
Taking a tidbit from a silver plate at the buffet he began searching the room.
The Vulcans Kirk saw were mostly unfamiliar to him…ah, wasn't that the famous
artist T'Lu? He had visited an exhibition of hers once, when he was still
interested in such things. When Spock and he….
The tall woman stepped aside and Kirk saw the object of his thoughts, his reason
for being here at this much-hated diplomatic gathering. Spock stood with his
back to him but Kirk would have known him anywhere, in any attire—in this case a
stately Vulcan robe of material that glittered as he moved. So like his hair,
Kirk mused as he stood there smitten as he always was by the sight of this
particular Vulcan man. He saw Spock stiffen and turn around. So, you still feel
it when I look at you, do you?
Their eyes met.
For Kirk time stood still; it was always like this. When their gazes locked,
even over almost half the ballroom's width, it was as if the dark eyes looked
straight into his soul. And exactly like long ago that gaze warmed not only his
heart but his groin, too. Blinded by sudden tears Kirk looked down—damn, if he
would make himself a fool again in front of everybody—and clamped down on his
emotions the way he had learned much too well in the last years. Under control
once more he glanced at the Vulcan again, finding him staring at him
unwaveringly. Had Spock seen it all, had he seen his emotional turmoil, his hope,
his craving? At one time he would have.
Squaring his shoulders he stepped up to the Vulcan. With a tight rein on his
feelings he looked up to the tall man, his gaze sliding over the chest, clad in
silver-threaded blue brocade, a high-necked black collar, over the long,
furrowed face to the deep set brown eyes. He would have given a kingdom to see
love in them instead of the mild curiosity he found there now.
"Spock, I’d like to speak with you.” Kirk flinched for he hadn't planned to say
it like the order that had passed his lips. Spock’s right eyebrow lifted a
fraction, giving him the air of a lord looking down at a petitioner. Kirk felt
something rip inside him and he reached out to grip Spock’s forearm.
"Come," he said harshly. Spock glanced down at Kirk’s square hand crunching the
fine fabric of his robe, then up to his suddenly hot face. The dark eyes bored
into his questioningly and Kirk felt like a fool—if Spock decided to stand on
that spot till morning he wouldn't be able to move him. His face grew even
hotter and he knew he was making a spectacle of himself, but Spock's eyes told
him nothing.
"Please!"
Spock blinked at this. "As you wish, Commodore," he said. He turned to the
Vulcans with whom he had been conversing and excused himself very politely in
his own tongue. Kirk was startled; he hadn't even noticed the elderly couple
before, who looked at him with obvious annoyance—how was it that he could read
total strangers better than his own Vulcan? "Excuse us please, madam, sir.
Urgent business," he told them, smiling tightly, and the Vulcans nodded
graciously.
He turned and led the way out of the ballroom, feeling Spock directly behind him.
Almost like in the old days.
From Revelation by Phaedra Morgan
"Spock, can I sleep with you? Bones is making a nuisance of himself."
A tousled head lifted from the pillow to better view the tired, disheveled
figure of his captain. Clad only in pajama bottoms, he was still a commanding
figure, one Spock couldn't refuse. "A common complaint where the good doctor is
concerned. May I inquire what he has done on this occasion to drive you from
your bed?"
"Uh, he was dreaming about some woman and thought I was her, or rather she. At
least that's what I gathered from what he was mumbling. I decided that ... uh,
retreat was the better part of valor."
To one who knew him well, Kirk's halting explanation was a clear sign of
embarrassment.
"A most awkward situation. I believe your decision to vacate your room is the
most expedient solution. You are welcome to sleep here.” Without further ado,
Spock moved to the far side of the bed to make room for him.
"I'll try not to snore or hog the covers," Kirk said, as he slid into the space
Spock had vacated and snuggled into the warmth created by the hot Vulcan body.
He was soon asleep.
¤¤¤¤
Deep in the arms of Morpheus, Kirk was slow in waking to the realization that a
warm body was pressed tightly against his back, spoon fashion. For a minute he
thought it was McCoy again, dreaming of some lady love, until he remembered that
McCoy was in the other room. This is getting to be ridiculous! Spock? But he
never shows any interest in sex. Hell, he doesn't even like to be touched. Kirk knew he should pull away as he had done with McCoy, but something kept him glued
to the body behind him.
When Spock made no further overtures, Kirk relaxed in the embrace, reveling in
the feeling of closeness. Slowly, he drifted toward sleep, only to be abruptly
startled back to wakefulness by the feel of a hand gently caressing his hip and
a firm appendage nudging the crevice of his ass. He froze, even less sure what
to do now than he had been earlier with McCoy. If I wake him, he'll be
embarrassed as hell. And if I don't, things could get pretty awkward between us.
I wonder who he's dreaming about?
As if Spock had heard the unspoken question, an almost inaudible sigh and a soft
"Jim" broke the silence.
From Enemy Mine by Greywolf the Wanderer
He awakened with a jolt, to the sound of the door buzzer. For a moment he could
not remember where he was, until his mind cleared. He sat up in bed, fighting
off a rush of dizziness. His hair and skin were damp with sweat again, as was
his bedding.
"Computer: lights, 50%.” He turned his head toward the door. "Come."
The door swished open and Jim Kirk sauntered in, smiling, his gait easy and
relaxed. And yet, there was something…. Something was different about him.
Hastily Spock pushed his blankets aside and stood up, wondering what the captain
needed of him—only to find himself swaying unsteadily, as the dizziness returned.
Quickly Kirk was at his side, steadying him. To his shame, the help was
necessary; some moments passed before his legs would support him. He kept hold
of the edge of his desk, just in case. When he was certain he could do so
without falling, he turned and sat down.
"You all right, Spock? Should I call McCoy up here?” Kirk's concern showed in
his voice, and yet his speech was somewhat slurred. His eyes were wide,
glittering, slightly unfocused. And his scent—surely that was the smell of
brandy. Was the captain drunk?
But Jim never drinks on duty. He relieved me. He has the conn. I have never seen
him do such a thing. Surely, I am mistaken…. Spock closed his eyes for a moment,
trying to dispel a growing headache. The effort was not particularly effective,
but he opened his eyes again and said, "Thank you, Captain, but I am no longer
in difficulty."
Kirk was still standing right beside him. He had not stepped back, as he would
normally have done. "That's good. Had me worried there for a minute, Spock.”
Spock fought the impulse to lean back, to regain his personal space. It was not
like the captain to intrude in this way. Something must be wrong, but he did not
know what it could be.
It was at that moment that Kirk reached down to run his fingers through Spock's
hair. "Mmmm," he murmured. "Soft. I always figured it would be."
Now Spock did lean back, breaking the contact. What…? "Jim?" he asked. "Are you
all right? Is something wrong?” There must be. It was not like Jim to behave in
this fashion.
But Jim's hand was stroking his hair again, and to move aside any further would
be to fall out of his chair. "No, nothing's wrong, Spock. Not at all. I just…
wanted to see you, is all. To touch you.” And Jim lowered his head, to brush his
cheek against Spock's hair. "Mmmm. Feels nice.” The scent of the brandy was
almost overpowering this close.
"Jim—no.” It was all Spock could do to speak, he was so surprised. This could
not be Jim. But it was he. Spock could feel that it was, through the contact
between them. He took a deep breath, tried again. "Jim, please—do not…."
Cool human fingers stroked his ears, played with his hair—and then, as he tried
to rise, to put some distance between them, Jim's hands grasped at his shoulders,
keeping him where he was. "Don't fight me, Spock. I don't want to hurt you; I
know you want this too. We've both been pretending for far too long, denying
what both of us feel.” Spock shook his head, and tried once more to rise. This
time the hands pushed him back down quite sharply, and Jim leaned on him, using
his weight and the advantage of position to enforce his will. Through his
fatigue-weakened shields Spock could clearly feel the human's possessiveness,
his willfulness, the strength of his desire. It did not seem to matter to this
man what Spock's own wishes might be….
"I said, don't fight me, Spock.” Spock froze, hearing the anger in that soft
voice.
From Command Seminar by Kaki
James T. Kirk, soon-to-be captain of the USS Enterprise, ran down the hallway.
Luckily the hallways of Space Station L3 were almost deserted. As he ran he
fumed, First they send me to this nutty “special command training” course, when
I ought to be on board my new ship, getting to know her, then they call first
thing in the morning to give me the updated crew roster, as if changes in the
hydroponics lab personnel required face-to-face discussion. So now I'm late.
Finally, I'm Captain Kirk and I'm late for my first meeting.
He quietly opened the auditorium door, located his assigned seat in the dimly
lit room, excused himself to the Vulcan in the end seat, climbed over him and
sat down. How can he be that intent on the podium? he thought, as he took in the
Vulcan's erect posture and straight-to-the-front-of-the-room gaze. As this
thought occurred, he realized that the class had begun during the moment when
he'd contemplated the Vulcan.
"So please turn to the officer nearest you and introduce yourself to your lunch
companion for today. If you are already acquainted and others from your new
command team are present, please pair up with one of them you do not know well,"
came the instructions from the front of the room. "Remember that in this class
we are all command officers, but rank doesn't matter. The idea is to get to know
some of the officers who will serve with you in the near future and to share
ideas about command style and expectations."
Kirk turned to the Vulcan next to him and recognized him as Spock, science
officer of his new command. "Mr. Spock, I'm Jim Kirk."
"Captain. I am looking forward to serving under you," Spock replied with typical
Vulcan calmness.
"It looks like we have the chance to get to know each other before I'm
officially your captain."
From The Tie That Binds by Dana Austin Marsh
I freeze in the act of tidying away the remnants of one more interminable day in
the dreary existence my life has become. My hands, which had been sorting orphan
papers, now brace my trembling body against the wide expanse of polished wood. I
am almost unaware of these paltry physical details, for every particle of my
awareness is turned inward, waiting in agonizing anticipation for that first
whisper of the summons to be repeated.
The eternity of empty evening hours that had stretched before me only a moment
ago is swept away as adrenaline gushes into my veins. My heart throbs a
thunderous pulse, but even that cannot drown out the singing of my soul.
Knuckles white upon my desk, I send my thoughts in an eager welcome to the
delicate signal.
Sagging into my chair, I feel the familiar heat of a desert plain engulf me,
denying the climate controlled coolness of this office high in the towers of
Starfleet Command. Vulcan heat, stoked by an imperative even Gol cannot
eradicate, melts barriers surrounding the silver filament to the one I have
called friend, brother, and would gladly have named forever-lover.
This is the fourth time in the six years we have been parted that his alien need
has crossed the light years of time, space, and imposed indifference to summon
me to him.
The first time I went gladly, joyously, certain that the victory I had thought
never to hold had been delivered to me on the altar of Pon Farr….
From Call Me Brother by Deanna Gray
"A dream that made Mister Spock and me brothers."
The words whispered through his mind like a gentle caress, driving out all
thought of work. With an unVulcan sigh Spock switched off his computer and
leaned back in his chair. His eyes wandered over to the long counter on the far
side of his office, the one laden with equipment for his newest research project.
The one he was supposed to be working on at this moment. His gaze settled back
on his desk, several tapes and papers neatly stacked and awaiting his attention.
His office was large, having to accommodate his dual roles of science officer
and first officer. Apart from the lab counter, it was a plain office, strictly
Starfleet issue. Desk, chair, computer, several shelves lining one wall, tapes
neatly arranged on it. There was nothing personal on the premises, nothing to
hint at who occupied the room, but the heat in the room was enough to identify
its owner.
Spock sighed again, something he allowed himself in his little sanctuary. He
should at least finish the preliminary paperwork…but it would be illogical to
continue after five failed attempts. Nine words, just nine words had pierced his
controls as nothing before ever had, except the man who spoke them. Images of
his captain filled his inner vision, those words resounding through his entire
being.
Brother. Kirk had called him his brother. A public declaration no less, despite
the circumstances. It had taken every ounce of his control not to register his
shock and overwhelming joy. It had required force to drag air into his lungs, to
train his eyes down lest they betray him, attempt to slow the beating of his
heart as Kirk's words staggered him. His voice had been momentarily lost and he
had wondered how he had been able to speak at all when prompted by Garth. Years
of control had been rewarded as his restrained reply came forth. He had not
allowed Garth and the others to know what these precious words truly meant to
him.
Unfortunately, Garth's reply quickly resounded through his mind as well: "Blind.
Truly blind." His stomach tightened, a small knot of fear marring his
contentedness of a moment ago. He laced his hands together in his lap. What if
the Izaran was correct and he was blind, had misinterpreted? It was a fact that
humans often said things that they did not mean, or their meaning was other than
their words implied. As a language, Standard was imprecise, vague, and often
confusing.
From Arecibo Revisited by Dr. T'Rhys
I was rather dismayed to learn that rather than considering any of the very
reasonable (we thought) changes I and First Officer Spock submitted to you last
year, you have chosen instead to recruit both our friends Ken and Barbie into
Starfleet and post them aboard the Enterprise. Now, while new crewpersons are
always welcome aboard I must ask, with all due respect—What the HELL is wrong
with you people??!! Neither of them has completed any SF Academy course that I
am aware of, and yet here they are aboard my ship sporting officer's stripes?!
Shit, I have redshirts with more sense than these two have!
From Odyssey by Rosemarie Heaton
"Thank you," he said and watched her walk away. I must be losing my touch, he
thought but was far too relaxed to worry about it. He would drink his beer, eat,
and then go for a walk along the beach. Picking up his ice-cold lager he took a
long, appreciative draught and returned his attention to the rose and indigo
tinted sky. He really needed this, needed to get away from well-meaning friends
and acquaintances and the publicity machine that called itself Starfleet Command.
He had seen more of most of his command crew over the past few days than he
wanted. Their presence had only served to remind him that they were home and he
still wanted the stars. For a moment his thoughts touched on Spock, who had been
visible by his absence, and again he speculated about why the debriefing panel
had been so assiduous in their questions about the Vulcan.
"Captain?"
"Spock!” Kirk was incredulous but delighted. "I wasn’t expecting you. Nor anyone
else for that matter. Have a seat.” He waved at the chair on the other side of
the table.
"I am pleased to have found you," Spock said as he sat down.
"Oh?” Kirk was wary. "Problems with the ship?" he asked and wondered at the
shadow that crossed his first officer’s face.
"No, sir," Spock said. "And even if there were, it is no longer your concern."
Kirk frowned. For a moment there he had forgotten that he was no longer Captain
James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise but just plain Captain Kirk. Voice tinged
with melancholy and annoyance, he replied, "Yes, of course. So what does bring
you here, Commander? Not your type of place I’d have thought."
The Vulcan’s features hardened. "I had thought to request your company for the
evening meal, sir, but if I am intruding…?"
Heart racing, Kirk sat up straight, slopping his beer as he did so. "No," he
said.
Spock stood up. "Then if you will excuse me, sir. I tender my apologies for
disturbing you."
"Not that," Kirk spluttered. He put his beer down and mopped at his shirt. "I
meant don’t go."
Spock hesitated, then sat back down. Kirk settled back in his seat. "I’m sorry,
Spock," he apologised. "You’re the second person I’ve managed to upset tonight."
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow but to Kirk’s relief just asked, "Would you like
another drink, Captain?"
"No, thank you. I’d better not.”
A moment later, Maria placed Spock’s drink and some small dishes on the table.
Spock spoke to her in Greek and they talked for a few minutes. As Kirk listened
without comprehending, he saw the easy understanding between them and his mood
began to sour. Maria glowered in his direction and threw another stream of rapid
Greek at Spock, who shook his head. Whatever he said in reply obviously worked
because with a toss of her head she left them alone.
"I suppose I should have known you’d speak Greek," Kirk said when the silence
between them had stretched for too long. He could not stop his irritation from
influencing his tone.
"I spent vacations at my grandparents’ villa while attending Starfleet Academy."
From Sweet Talk by Gena Moretti
It was getting close to sack time one evening just three weeks and one day after
Spock’s departure. Kirk rose from his desk, listlessly realizing he had actually
caught up on all his paper work. With Spock gone and no chess, in desperation
for something to fill the time he had turned to that eternal necessity. Kirk
shrugged and mumbled, “Who knows, I just might keep it right up to the minute
for this whole six months. Every dark cloud is supposed to have a silver lining.
I guess that’s the one this cloud is gonna have.” He sighed as he hoped his
restless loneliness would ease as the months went by.
His comline buzzed. He answered with alert indifference, “Kirk here.” He jerked
up straight in his chair, his face and voice reflecting his instant pleasure as
he ordered, “Put him on! Hello! Hello, Spock!”
“I trust I’m not interrupting you, Captain?”
“No! No, Spock, not at all.” Kirk mentally shook his finger at himself. Relax,
fool. He’s gonna think you’ve been stuck alone on a deserted planet since he’s
been gone. Making a conscious effort to let his voice show only a reasonable
pleasure, he asked the first things he could bring to mind. “I assume you’re all
settled into whatever quarters you’ll have for the next five months and six days.
Are you comfortable? I imagine everyone’s pretty well-established into a routine
by this time.”
Spock gulped as he wondered, Has he been counting the days as I have?
“Reasonably so, Captain. I was fortunately paired up with another Vulcan, so we
can have our room heated to Vulcan comfort, as it were. The rooms are small, the
beds are typical for this planet, which means they are even harder than Star
Fleet issue. The food is fresh, which is always welcome.”
“That sounds pretty good, two out of three. It could be worse.” Kirk had only a
vague idea of what he was saying. He had been attempting to adjust the blank
viewing screen and finally in frustration had pounded on his monitor several
times. Concluding that the problem was on Spock’s end, he asked, “Spock, why is
there no visual? Surely a planet advanced enough to hold a science seminar of
that magnitude would have visual communications.”
“While installing the extensive wiring and other temporary power lines necessary
for such a huge, complex gathering, the technicians accidentally disabled the
main communications. They got the voice reestablished, but not visual. They
estimate it could be several weeks, even months, before that will be working
again. It is not a top priority and the temporary system they have put in for us
seems to be very fragile. At least it malfunctions frequently. I trust all your
necessary substitutes are working satisfactorily?”
For the next twenty minutes they answered each other’s questions. Kirk had been
enjoying the contact with his treasured “First” so much, it was with surprise
that he finally thought to ask, “Why did you call me, Spock?”
There was a definite pause, then the hesitant admission, “I had no particular
purpose, Captain. I…I just called.”
“You did? I mean you didn’t?” Sparks of pleasure burst through Kirk’s stomach.
“Spock…will you do it again? Soon?”
A far more self-assured voice answered, “Of course.” While Kirk fought to keep
from asking “when,” he heard the nervous throat-clearing that was so familiar.
“Captain? Would tomorrow night, at this time, be too soon?”
“That will be perfect. I’ll be waiting. Good night, Spock.”
From And We Fall in Love by Kathy Stanis
"You once said you miss the rain in space."
Spock's deep, rich voice…. Rain beating hard against the steamed-up windows…the
crackle of flames in the huge stone fireplace…brandy warm down his throat and
Spock's deep, rich voice…. It sounded different here than on the ship, here
inside the old wooden farmhouse surrounded by acres of fertile fields in the
middle of the continent on his home planet with the whole of space out there
waiting for their return…or else he was hearing it differently after last night,
hearing it differently now with the rain and the fire and the brandy, alone
together in the old house where he grew up, sitting close in clean, dry clothes,
their hair still damp from being caught out in the sudden downpour...and the
thunder rumbled far away now….
"Mmm…." Kirk took another sip, watching Spock swirl the brandy in his glass and
inhale the heady fumes, staring at the firelight on the Vulcan's face, the
flame-shadows on the sculpted planes and angles, like last night…. Last night
Spock had lit a candle; he had already taken off his clothes and he lit a candle…and
Kirk's breath caught just thinking about it again—their making love after five
years of foreplay….
He leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out toward the fire and
resting his shoulder against Spock's. Seeing again Spock's nakedness, feeling
again his own…the places they'd touched…the raw intimacy of looking into each
other's eyes as they came he would never forget, and he could hardly look into
Spock's eyes now without seeing the Vulcan surrendering to it. He could still
hear Spock's cries and his soft, sensual laughter afterwards, could still feel
Spock's arms around him, holding so tightly as if to fuse them into one being….
An electric rush in his groin again, thinking of what they had not done…and his
insides ached with the wanting of it….
"I suppose you do not miss it enough to consider a planet-based occupation."
"Mmm…rain," Kirk said. "No—I'd probably get tired of it. But I'll never get
tired of being in space."
"You do get tired of being in space. While star charting and completing reports,
for instance."
Kirk laughed. "Well, okay. Maybe a little."
"You have the restless nature of an explorer."
"And you have the restless nature of a scientist. Same thing. But maybe you
could satisfy that curiosity anywhere." Kirk drained his glass. He reached over
to the end table, picking up the crystal decanter that had been his
grandfather's, and poured another drink. Spock held out his glass and he
refilled it, staring at the elegant hand wrapped around it….
"I won't get tired of it as long as you're with me." It felt so good to say it
outright, to finally say these things that had been hovering unsaid between them
for a long time. "Maybe it doesn't really matter what we do."
From Pacing the Cage by Jenna Hilary Sinclair
Spock first heard the name Mai Tagnaki one year and four months after the
Enterprise ended her five year mission, when the mid-November chill had already
made San Francisco heavy-coat weather for Vulcans.
“She’s a really interesting person,” James Kirk told his friend during one of
their weekly lunch meetings. That day they had chosen a Chinese restaurant near
the campus of Starfleet Academy. “She’s one of the aides for Admiral Lopez, the
fellow who has the Starfleet chair on the Council’s finance sub-committee. She’s
a commander.”
“You met her during the Vandonian hearings at which you testified two weeks
ago?” Spock helped himself to more rice.
“Uh-huh. I was impressed with her right away. We had dinner last Tuesday and I
think I’ll ask her to that centennial shindig the Andorian embassy is hosting on
Saturday. You’re going too, aren’t you?”
Spock nodded. “I had plans to attend. My father specifically requested that I
make myself known on the occasion to Ambassador Wakluke.”
Kirk made a face. “You’ve got to stop letting him do that to you. You’re not a
diplomat, you’re a scientist. You know he’s trying to pull you into the same
game he’s playing.”
“Of that I am well aware. Sarek is aware that I am aware, and I am also
cognizant of his awareness.”
Kirk laughed, a light, skipping sound that traveled to the tables near them and
turned heads. The other diners saw two Starfleet officers, one human and the
other Vulcan, a most unusual combination, enjoying lunch together. The captain
was leaning forward as if to appreciate the smile on the commodore’s face.
Kirk patted at his grin with the napkin. “Well, it must be all right then, since
everyone is in the know. Just don’t let him trick you into going away where I
can’t have the pleasure of your company for lunch. Okay? And make sure I see you
Saturday night. I want you to meet Mai.”
In a few moments of idle time, Spock had once calculated that it took an average
of twenty-seven minutes and fourteen seconds for James Kirk and himself to come
face to face at a typical Starfleet or diplomatic reception. It was an average
only, of course. There had been times when they had traveled to the occasion
together and spent the entire evening in one another’s company, times when the
crush of bodies prevented them from meeting at all, times when they had only
managed to exchange nods. Although those last had been few. Spock had been in
the Andorian embassy for forty-two minutes before he saw his former captain and
a woman beside him in one of the small, crowded rooms that made up the first
floor of the building.