Author: Lady
Charena
Series: TOS
[AR]
Codes: S/Mc,
POV
Rating: R
Feedback: If you like - <LadyCharena@aol.com>
Summary: Just
a bit of shore leave pleasures...
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom
owns Star Trek. This story is mine and only fanfiction. No moneymaking or no
offence of copyrights are intended. If you are under age or have a problem with
homosexuality, please stay away.
English is not my
native language, so please be patient with mistakes. My thanks to T'Len and
Janet for beta. If there are remaining errors, blame me.
For more of my
stories (and stories by T'Len) visit the homepage of the TOSTwins:
http://www.geocities.com/tostwins/KSlash.htm
P.S.: The weather
is fine
* * * * * * * * * *
* * *
Lady Charena Dec.
01
>>Dear
Joanna,
I've found this
old-fashioned picture postcard in the small hotel you recommended to us. It
shows a part of the beach. Well, it's not the best hotel I've ever stayed at, but
it is not as overcrowded with people, as you told us. And that's what we wanted
for this few days of shore leave. Just sand, sleep and peace. (And two or three
drinks with some of the more entertaining guys at the bar for me, during
Spock's meditation.) The food's rich and good. Okay, I have to stop now cause
we planned a trip to a cliff a few miles from here to watch the sunset.
With love, Leonard
P.S.: The weather
is fine.<<
I put the pen down
and rise to my feet. With a sigh I stretch my back and hear a faint crack,
accompanied from a short pain - no way to deny it, I *am* definitely getting
old...
"Are you
ready, Leonard?" a soft voice asks.
I smile as a pair
of very warm hands touches my back at exactly the right point, soothing away
the remaining pain with a gentle massage.
"That's what I
needed," I sigh. "Thanks." I turn to place a short kiss onto
your cheek.
"You are
welcome, Leonard." Dark eyes smile at me. "Did you finish the message
to your daughter?"
"The picture
postcard? Yes, I did. She's going to like it, 'cause she inherited the love to
such old-fashioned things from her mother. We can leave it at the reception on
our way to the beach." I take the card and my sunglasses from the desk.
"Ready?" I receive a short nod in return.
* * *
After leaving the
postcard in the more than capable hands of the man behind the reception, we
leave the building and step into the soft warm of a late summer afternoon.
I shove my
sunglasses up into my hair; the light isn’t bright enough to hurt my eyes,
anymore.
For a while we walk
in silence, enjoying the companionship and the fresh, salty air.
"Do you regret
being not able to spend more time with Joanna?" you suddenly ask.
I stop for a
moment. "Of course I do," I say - with a faint ring of guilt in my
voice. "She's my daughter."
"So why did
you agree to spend this leave with me instead of her?"
"Spock, I...
was supposed to be a part of her childhood, supposed to help her to find her
way. But I chose instead to run away from her and her mother, feeling unhappy
with a wife I hardly knew, with my whole life." I turn to gaze across the
nearby water. "Now Joanna is a grownup woman with her own family and her
own life. She doesn't need me anymore. It's okay to pay a visit from time to
time but a longer stay would have been unpleasant for both. So I decided to
drag you away from your computers." I turn again to look at my silent
Vulcan.
"I too welcome
the opportunity to spend more time with you." More you didn't say, but the
look in your eyes told me everything I need to know.
* * *
After the sun
vanished we return to the hotel.
"I think I
need a shower. With you," I suggest not very subtle after entering our
room. But then we know each other too long for subtlety. I know you prefer
Sonics whenever possible, but they still have good ol' water-showers here. And
they're big enough for two.
"Indeed?"
Oh, I know a smile
when I see one. And there is definitely a smile dancing in your eyes.
"Indeed!" I answer dryly. I start to get off my clothes, and you are
still standing there, your arms crossed in front of your chest, watching me.
"Need some help with this?" I ask when I step to you, tugging at the
sleeve of your tunic.
Amusement trickles
across the link we share, but you start to undress and follow me into the
bathroom.
I turned on the
shower, raising the temperature to the highest setting I can endure and step
under the water. "Come on," I reach for you, and after some
hesitation you enter the stall.
"Like a cat,"
I tease and reach for the soap.
"I can assure
you, Vulcans are not of feline ancestry," you answer dryly, plucking the
bottle with soap out of my hands to put some onto your palms.
You work it to lather
and I can't tear my eyes from your long fingers, moving smoothly. I can almost
feel them on my skin. Eventually I look at you. Of course you've noticed my
absence of mind. I shrug with a smile and lean forward to kiss you. A moment
later, I feel your hands sliding across my back. And it's much better than
every fantasy or memory I've ever had.
Later I soap your
buttocks, making my intentions more clear. And start to laugh as a soft purr
escapes your lips. "No feline ancestry, you're sure?" I tease. Warm
and wet, you are irresistible. No one I've ever met smelt like you, tasted like
you. Sometimes I think I could eat you alive.
Your arms wrap
around my waist, dragging me closer to your body, and I feel your hard cock
pushing against my belly.
I slip out of your
grip and work slowly my way down your body. For a moment I stop, my head
resting on your thigh. Your cock hard and hot against my cheek. I open my lips
to lick across it, to suck you. I never get tired of it, of feeling you in my
mouth, of your taste.
With a groan you
stop me and withdraw. "Not tonight", you say, taking my wrists, to
haul me to my feet. "Tonight I want all of you." With that you turn
off the water. "Or have you got other plans?" Your eyes slowly travel
down my aroused body. Then you whisper your fingertips across my mouth.
For eight years I
have known you. It’s been two years since I first tasted your lips, touched
your body, and although there is not a centimeter of you I don't know by feel,
sight or taste, you can still drive me into a frenzy of lust with a simple
gesture like that. I sway a little, dizzy with arousal and you put a hand to my
shoulder to steady me. I want to say something like "too much for an old
man," but the words die on my lips as I met your burning gaze. There is a
question in your eyes, and I simply nod...
* * *
A long time later I
rise from the bed to help myself to some brandy. I turn to watch you. Your eyes
are closed, your hair mussed. It pleases me to think that I'm the only person
alive who ever saw you let go to that extent, so unselfconscious and at peace;
you don't care what you look like. Most people think of you as aloof, distant,
even cold and emotionless. With me your Vulcan defense mechanisms shut down all
the way. You trust me. In moments like this you are mine alone...
I return to the bed
to sit next to you. All the sudden I feel young - tired, too - but young and
impish. I dab a little brandy over your left nipple and suckle it dry.
You open your eyes
just a fraction to look at me under lowered lashes. Slowly you raise an
eyebrow.
And I can't hold
myself - I start laughing. I put the glass away and snuggle up to you. This is
going to be one of the best shore leaves I ever had.
End