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One Small Step
One forgives to the degree that one loves.
Francois de La Rochefoucauld
One small step.
That’s all she needed to take. One small step and she would be in front of his door.
“Come on Christine,” she quietly admonished herself in her best Nurse’s voice, “just put one foot in front of the other and you are there.”
But she remained rooted on the spot, unable to decide which direction to move. Crew members passed her by, some casting a quick glance in her direction, others walking by without really seeing her at all. The longer she stood still, the more foolish she felt.
One small step, she thought, one small step and I will be in front of his door and we can finally talk. But only if I take that one small step.
Still, she stood, staring at his unopened door, debating on which arm to use to press the sensor.
Should she use her left arm and stand casually to the side, arms folded in front of her? Or use her right and stand dead centre, hands clasped behind her back, standing at attention?
She was debating the choices in her head when Ortegas walked by her, only stopping when she failed to acknowledge her greeting.
“Christine!” Lt. Ortegas said loudly, snapping her fingers in front of her face, “Enterprise to Nurse Chapel!”
“What?” she said, as she quickly tried to collect herself and bring her attention back to the present moment, “Oh! Hi. Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
“No kidding,” Ortegas chuckled, “Soooo…are you gonna fill me in on this whole statue routine or are you going to ring and see if Spock is in? Or do you need me to see if he is there?”
“No!” Christine exclaimed louder than she intended “No, it’s ok. I am just…gathering my thoughts.”
“You know, you are one of the bravest, smartest, and most confident women I know, but stand you in front of a Vulcan’s door and you look like a lost little girl,” Ortegas chuckled.
“I’m not lost, Erica,” Christine stammered, “I’m just…thinking.”
“Christine, you can’t stand out here forever. He is bound to leave his quarters at some point,” she said emphatically, gesturing towards Spock’s door, “so you need to make up your mind – stay or go?”
She knew Erica was right. She had to make a choice – she either acted like an adult and stepped forward or continued to avoid him and step back. Steeling herself, she made her choice.
“Ok. Here it goes,” she muttered and stepped forward.
Erica smiled, stepped aside and quietly continued her way to the bridge, giving Nurse Chapel some privacy. Their relationship was an open secret amongst the crew. Even more so after their latest battle with the Gorn. They had almost lost Nurse Chapel and no one felt that more acutely than Spock. Despite his Vulcanness, those who know him could see the way it was tearing him apart.
After Christine’s rescue, she made a side wager with Uhura and La’an that it would take at least two months for them to regroup with Spock being the initiator. Nyota bet it would take 6 weeks and La’an, well, it turned out she is a bit more of a romantic then anyone suspected. She bet it would take three weeks with Nurse Chapel being the one to make the first move.
She was right.
Erica made a mental note to check how much credit she had left at the bar. The first three rounds were going to be on her and knowing La’an and Uhura, the drinks were going to be expensive ones.
The next bet was if they actually managed to navigate the complexity of their personalities in order to have a relationship. If only Christine wasn’t so terrified to admit that she maybe was in love with Spock. But that was a bet for yet another day.
If her memory served her right, M’benga and Number One both had side bets, along with most of the cadets and Yeomen. It would track that two of the smartest, if not THE smartest, people on the ship would be the last to figure out that they were in love.
Not wanting Christine to feel even more uncomfortable, she continued on her way to the bridge to let Uhura and La’an know who won the bet and to layout the ground rules for the next one: how long it would actually last. Vulcan and human relationships tended to burn hot and fast but who knows? Maybe this one would have a slower burn. That was going to be her bet.
With a quick glance towards the retreating back of Lt. Ortegas, Christine extended her right arm, her hand headed towards the sensor next to the door. Taking a deep, calming breath, she pressed her palm on the sensor, took a small step backwards and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief and walk away, the doors softly opened with their familiar swish and there he was. Standing tall, his back ramrod straight, surprise momentarily softening his eyes.
“Nurse Chapel,” he said softly. She loved the way his voice rounded off the corners of her name, whether he used the formal greeting like now, or the more intimate use of her given name.
“Hi…Spock, you are here” she stuttered, having thought he wasn’t in his quarters, she had let her guard down just enough to be surprised he was actually home.
“Yes, these are my quarters,” he said, curiosity flickered across his face.
“No…yes..I mean…I mean yes BUT no,” she said, frustrated with herself for being so flustered simply at the sight of him. She wished, just this one time, that he would let his human side override the Vulcan in him and be just as flustered as she was.
“That sounds…confusing,” he mused, “Maybe I could be of some assistance?”
Christine felt like she was on the edge of a cliff. She could step over the edge and fall into his orbit again, or remain on this side of his door and ask him to step over into hers.
“Yes,” she said, her confidence slowly returning, “I think maybe you can.”
Silently, Spock took one small step to the side and invited her into his quarters. She looked into his eyes, trying to connect with whatever it was he was allowing himself to feel. He had been focusing on an obscure Vulcan ritual that was guiding him back to that simmering stillness she had been so drawn to when they met. It appeared to her that he was doing so as self protection and not as a means to be more Vulcan. It was illogical, irrational, and decidedly human.
What she saw, though, surprised her. She glimpsed flickers of yearning, fear, and something more complex, something so gentle his eyes softened for just an instant, and then it was gone. Retreating behind the Vulcan mask he wore when deep in thought.
Keeping her hands firmly clasped behind her back, she stepped off the cliff and fell into his orbit. His quarters smelled faintly of sandalwood and something faintly sweet and floral. Similar to the way a peony would smell on Earth. She had grown to enjoy it, its gentle way of relaxing her on their evenings in. Its familiarity both put her at ease and made her wary all at once.
Slowly, she turned to face him. She let her gaze fall on his couch, his bed, the kitchen. Memories of moments shared, intimate ones, crowded the front of her mind. Breathing through them, she firmly set them aside.
Not now, she thought, there is still so much for us to figure out.
“Spock…” “Christine…” they said at the same time.
They both stopped, eyes locked and then she smiled. Christine felt the tension in her body begin to melt away.
“Jinx. You owe me a Coke,” she quipped awkwardly.
“I am aware of what ‘jinx’ means, but why would I owe you a…Coke? And what is a Coke?”
“It’s a 20th century Earth thing. When two people say the same thing at the same time, the first person to say that…wins. Usually, we would have said the same thing, but I just,” she shrugged helplessly, feeling foolish for messing up something so ridiculous and simple.
“You thought it would be amusing. Something to…break the tension,” he finished for her.
It was far too generous an explanation but she smiled and nodded, grateful for the save. But the strange awkwardness returned as they both stood silent in front of each other. Each waiting for the other to continue.
“Christine,” he slowly began, breaking the silence and tension hopefully once and for all, “I just made some tea. I am trying an Earth variety, Earl Grey. Would you care for a cup?”
“That would be nice. Thank you,” she said. “May I sit?”
“Of course,” Spock said, a hint of warmth sneaking into his voice.
With a silent nod, she crossed over to his couch, pushing past memories of the two of them, nude, their bodies entwined, laying claim to the soft leather and each other.
Christine felt her cheeks heat up and quickly looked away. There were roadblocks between them now and she felt tremendous guilt for creating them. It was her habit. She had run from more emotionally stable relationships then she could count. Anytime she felt the other person get too close emotionally, too connected, she bolted. One time clear across the quadrant.
The idea of sameness bored her but love? Commitment? A shared partnership with someone who was her equal? That terrified her.
Yet, here she was, trying to find a way to rebalance the scales, to explain her actions and maybe, just maybe, find a way to get him to understand why the past month happened.
“I have been practicing various kinds of baking. I have successfully baked chocolate chip cookies,” he said as he set down a plate of perfectly identical cookies. She knew, without asking, that they each had the exact amount of chocolate chips.
“My favourite,” she said, reaching for one. It was still warm and the chocolate melted in her mouth. It was perfect. She tasted a hint of Vulcan vanilla, or what approximated it. He had no idea she was coming, and yet he made her favourite cookies with some of the tastes of Vulcan she loved.
“Is that…butter from Raal I am tasting?” she asked.
“It is. It still manages to retain the flavour of the grass our…cows eat,” he responded, struggling for a moment on how to characterize the animal they used for milk on the planet, “I have always like the sweetness of it. It is strong enough for Vulcans to taste. I am surprised you like it. Most humans find it too cloying in its sweet taste.”
“It works well with the dark chocolate you chose,” Christine said around a mouthful of cookie. Every flavour was so distinct, curated for a Vulcan’s taste buds.
For a long moment, they studied each other over the rims of their tea cups. It was impossible for Spock to appear nervous. His Vulcan side was incapable of it, but his human side occasionally showed itself. There was a tremor in his voice and his eyebrow arched upwards when she spoke. His tells, as they were, showed he was experiencing an emotional response to her presence.
“Spock,” she said slowly, thinking through the words she needed to somehow say, “I wanted to apologize.”
“For what?” He asked, genuinely surprised.
“For the past month. For not including you in my news, in shutting you out since the incident with the Klingon ambassador,” she was still unable to say his name, her hatred for what he represented had yet to dissipate.
“I felt the need to protect myself, to distance myself from….” Her voice trailed off, her courage leaving her in a single breath. How could she admit that she was running away from only him?
“Nurse Chapel…Christine,” his voice so soft when sounding out her name, “I believe it is I who needs to apologize. I made an assumption by only utilizing my human side. I allowed feeling to override logic. I should not have assumed that you would feel the same way I feel,” he was economical with his words, to the casual listener, his voice would sound flat, even clipped. But to her ears, she could hear something close to sorrow colouring his words.
“No, Spock,” she shook her head as she spoke, “you did have every right to expect I would come to you first. To include you in the celebration. I just…found myself unable to. I was feeling so much lingering rage, I was lashing out and...”
“It was easier to lash out at me, given our…arrangement,” he finished her sentence for her.
“Yes, but it wasn’t fair of me to do that,” she said, “Through it all, all you were trying to do was help...but there is this part of me that freezes, panics…when things get too close. And I run or shut the other person out.”
“So, we had become too close for comfort, as humans say. And in response, you sought to protect yourself from what you perceived to be too deep an emotional connection,” he said quietly, his voice deepening the softer he spoke, “As a Vulcan, I understand the desire to suppress any kind of emotional vulnerability, but you are not Vulcan so it would appear to be illogical for you to cut yourself off from whatever it is you are feeling.”
“A long time ago, I decided not to allow myself to become…entangled with another person. It is because of my parents' relationship. I’ve never really talked about it before…I can’t,” she said, the words choking her. A long buried memory threatened to resurface. She could hear the sound of a child crying, a door closing and her mom telling her how dangerous it was to love someone, that to love meant to lose. A ringing in her ears signaled she was dangerously close to seeing that one, devasting moment, the moment before the front door closed. Shaking her head to clear her mind, Christine focused on Spock and took a long sip of her tea.
Silently, Spock reached out and took her hand. “Christine, I feel it is I who should be apologizing to you. I made assumptions based on what I understood of human interactions and relationships. I have only ever experienced Vulcan relationships and instead of asking you what your intentions were, I made the choice to decide for us both. I am sorry, Christine. I never meant to make you feel this way.”
Purposefully, she laced her fingers through his and held onto his hand as tight as she dared. Spock’s ability to use logic to connect to emotions never failed to make her smile. It wasn’t that it was endearing so much as it was language she understood. In a way, it had become their love language. Late at night, they would talk under the light of the subspace stream that wrapped itself around the Enterprise. No matter the topic, the level of honesty was consistent between them. It threatened to bring her joy until she remembered his ex-fiancé and the impermanence of their relationship.
“Spock, never apologize for how you made…make me feel,” she said softly, “we both are responsible for the relationship we have.”
“When I thought you…had died in the destruction of the Cayuga, I felt something I have yet to quantify,” he began, shifting his body to face her fully, “I felt guilt, regret, sadness, and an emptiness that lead me to what would have been a suicide mission had you not been there. Grief is too small a word to describe what gripped me. There is no Vulcan equivalent for me to reference. I was, simply, lost.”
Christine studied him for a moment. She had made a crucial mistake when they first decided to explore what it would mean to be more than just colleagues. She had not been ready for the intensity of Vulcan desire. It was overwhelming. All consuming. She fought against it because underneath her fear, she felt the same way but it was pointless. He had a relationship, one based in the cultures and ritual of Vulcan. To ask him to engage in a human relationship was too much. His constant struggle to be seen as Vulcan was part of what defined him as a person. A person she cared for deeply.
“Spock, I can’t give you what T’Pring can,” she said while she shifted her body to face his, “You deserve to be with someone who understands exactly who you are. With someone who is Vulcan and can share katras with you, create a home on your home planet. Who can explore Sha Ka Re with you…You should be with someone who is Vulcan.”
Spock then did something that would stay in her memory forever. He gently took her other hand in his and then raised it to press her palm against his chest, over his heart. “Christine, you know me. You know my heart without having to undergo any rigorous Vulcan rituals. We have shared intimate knowledge in a way that is both more than human and more than Vulcan. Our connection has surprised me. We don’t have to share katras for me to know you or you to know me. But I can help you know yourself. I can help you confront the memories that you say prevent you from achieving deeper connections with others. But the choice is yours.”
“Do you mean…a Vulcan mind meld?” She was listening to him but her eyes were glued to her hand and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It was like he was slowly wooing her, coaxing her back to him, as though simply being next to him wasn’t enough to make her forget her fears and acknowledge that he was the right man for her.
“I do,” he said matter-of-factly, “It might help you understand your emotional response better and, more importantly, know yourself more fully.”
What should I do? She asked herself. He would literally be in my mind with me…
“Ok,” she said quickly, going with her gut, “Before I change my mind. Let’s get to it.”
Still holding both of her hands, he pulled her to her feet and lead her to where he meditated. Without a word, they sank down to the floor, sitting on cushions that faced each other.
“Don’t be nervous,” he spoke softly, his deep voice reverberating in her body, “I promise to be gentle.”
She saw a flicker of a smile cross his lips and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The incongruous combination of human and Vulcan in him was what attracted her to him in the first place. The precise logic, absolute honesty, truthfulness, unquenchable curiosity, fierce intelligence and the gentleness of his innate humanity. All of that combined into a man of such regimented dedication to service, and bravery, and, in her eyes, beauty. She often thought about their first kiss. It had awoken something in her that she believed lost and here she was about to share that with him.
“Are you ready?” He asked. “Do I have your consent to begin?”
She nodded.
Affixing his thumb and fingers to the appropriate pressure points on her face, he softly intoned the ritual words, “My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.”
Christine closed her eyes, heard a faint buzzing in her ears, and then she was falling backwards through time.
“Spock…”, she gasped.
“I am here,” he said, trying to assure her with his presence. It was working but when she looked around the room she was standing in, she was doubtful that his affect on her would last for long.
It was the kitchen in the house she grew up in and then ran away from. And continued to run from her entire adult life.
“Christine!” A voice called her name from somewhere down a long hallway. It was her mother.
Fear and dread started to fill her. She took a step backward and ran into Spock. The solid stillness of his body instantly calmed her.
“Is this it?” She asked, confused.
“We have just begun the process,” he said calmly, “Look around, Nurse Chapel, tell me where you are.”
Hesitantly, she stepped forward into the small room. Her family had a small home in a large city. The kitchen, living room and her bedroom were all side by side, separated by a long hallway from her parent’s and brother’s bedroom and the one bathroom they all shared.
“This was my room,” she explained, pointing to the small room next to the kitchen, “it was small but mine.”
She looked at the table where they ate together and saw a card on the table, ripped up into three large pieces. It was that day, the one that had drawn a demarcation line in her mind.
“That card…it was the card I gave my father for his birthday,” she said quietly, tears suddenly springing to her eyes, “I made it at school…”
She watched her 5 year old younger self emerge from the shadows and slowly venture down the hall. Her mother was back there, tired and broken. Her father was back there as well, slowly gathering his belongings, readying himself for that last walk out the door and into the night. Never to return.
She felt shattered, the pieces of her heart and soul were flying under her skin, crashing together as they searched for cracks to escape through. There was a rising panic in her chest, causing her vision to blur, tears slid unheeded down her cheeks and her heart began to pound in a frantic staccato beat. She curled around the pain in her body, trying to keep the scream that was threatening to burst out of her buried deep inside.
And there it was…She felt the loneliness of her childhood came roaring back and she lost her grip on her life, tumbling through this one, lone memory feeling only bereft and abandoned.
“Watch, Christine,” her mother had said, her voice thick with tears, bitter and hoarse, “watch your father leave. Watch him leave you. This is love, Christine. Remember this moment and remember this is what love looks like in the end. No matter how much you give, you will always lose.”
Silently, she stood in the doorway of her parent’s bedroom and watched her father leave. There was no hug goodbye, no reassuring words of visits to come. She ran down the hall, trying to catch him, tears streaming down her cheeks. But no words were spoken to her. He simply left. Leaving her with a mother who grew angrier and more bitter by the day until the scars she left were deeper than the ones left that night.
She took one small step, trying to follow him out but her mind went blank, a dense fog surrounded her, blocking her from seeing what came next.
Somewhere beyond the fog, she began to hear angry voices, one that was at first unfamiliar. Turning, she saw glimpses of two Vulcans, one of which was Spock. He was arguing with an older Vulcan man. Their voices continued to build in intensity, the body language of the older man betrayed his rage.
The older man, his back ramrod straight, fell silent. Without looking at Spock, he walked through a door, allowing it to close behind him. Christine understood. She was seeing the last memory Spock had of his father, Sarek.
“Spock…”
“It is time to end the mild meld,” he said, releasing her mind and memories back to her.
There was a faint buzzing in her ears and then she was alone in her mind.
Before she could open her eyes, she felt a tender sweep of his thumb across her cheek as he wiped away a tear.
“Looks like we both have issues with our fathers,” she said quietly.
“Yes, but my issues were formed out of a fundamental difference in what direction my life should take. I chose Starfleet and my father, wanting me to go to the Vulcan Scientific Academy, declared me a vrekahst and cut all contact with me,” he explained, “but memories are not to be compared. Trauma comes in many forms, some from physical violence, others from the wounds inflicted over time and emotional abuse.”
“My father never came back,” she said sadly, tears threatening to fall once again, “When he left my mother, he left me and my brother, he abandoned us, left earth and vanished into the stars. My mother then spent the next 15 years making sure I knew that love was poison, trying to make me believe that I was the reason my father left. So, I shut that part of myself down.”
“For someone as truly empathetic as you are, I find it fascinating that you are so fearful of…being loved,” he said, his gaze holding hers, “Or feeling it.”
“I always told myself that I could if I found the right person,” she said softly, her heart starting to race and that familiar buzzing starting up in her ears.
“And you have yet to find that…person,” he concluded, sadness colouring his voice.
“No, see, I did find the right person,” she corrected him gently, waiting to see if he would understand, “but I don’t think I am the right person for them.”
“Someone once said to me that it isn’t so much what I am as who I am. I am Vulcan and human but, what matters most, is that I am…Spock. I am both and neither. I should have been striving for balance instead of silencing half of who I am,” he said, “I believe that the person for me is someone who understands that identity is more than whether or not I am Vulcan or human but rather someone who values them both equally. So, the logical conclusion is that, perhaps, you might just be the right person for me.”
Silently, but with purpose, she rose to her feet and held out her hands to him, helping him up from his cushions. Keeping hold of his hands, she looked up into his eyes, thinking through what she was about to say so as to get her words right.
“Spock, if you believe that, then you have to understand that who I am is someone who will occasionally be someone who behaves…illogically,” she said earnestly, “I…I love you but I am also still so unsure of what that means.”
Spock said nothing. He looked down at their hands and said, “Christine, parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. We meet at the appointed place.”
“Spock…,” she whispered, suddenly at a loss for words. He was using the formal Vulcan greeting one says to their beloved.
“Christine,” he murmured. Gently, he pulled her hand up to his lips and gently kissed the inside of her wrist. The softness of his lips was so familiar and seductive, it was all she could do to not slip closer to him.
She felt the rush of his breath over her knuckles as he entwined their fingers. His hands engulfed hers yet she felt so strong when they did this, like they could conquer the galaxy just by holding hands. The gentle brush of his thumb over hers sent a shiver down her spine, willing her to respond to the encouragement he was giving her body.
“Computer, dim ambient light by 50%,” she mumbled.
“Warp light?” He asked, bemused by this, her one constant.
“Warp light,” she smiled, slipping her hands beneath his Starfleet tunic. Her breath shortened as she felt the muscles on his back flex under her touch. The way the rippling, silver light played against their skin was a source of wonder and delight to her. It would change in colour and intensity depending on just where in space they were.
One thing that had surprised her the first time they were together was the passion and intensity of his lovemaking. She hadn’t been sure what to expect with him but from the first moment they were skin to skin, it was like a hunger awoken in them both.
“Thank you for being patient with me,” he whispered into her ear, “I know I can make things difficult and please know, I have missed you.”
She kissed him softly but it wasn’t one of forgiveness, it was one that was meant to convey her commitment to him, to their relationship, to each other. His hands moved over her body, pulling her closer while he sought out her skin. His tongue crossed her lips and a low moan flowed out of her. Slipping her arms around him, she pressed herself against his body.
They were in no hurry now. This felt different, deeper, more intimate. Connected. That was the word she was looking for, she felt connected to him in a way that was different than before. Like they had discovered something new between them that had brought them to this moment.
“Maybe sometimes all we need to do is fight once in a while,” she whispered as she shed the last of her clothing.
“I would prefer that we did not,” he murmured, his lips against her neck, “but if this is the end result, it would be illogical of me to disagree.”
Spock paused and looked down at her, his expression bemused and darkly erotic. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the blue light that was filtering in through his bedroom window wash over his features. He was all angles and edges but she could see the gentleness in his eyes when he looked at her. It was the true Spock radiating out and he was for her, only and always for her.
“You are beautiful,” he mused while smoothing her hair back.
“You should talk,” she smiled.
“Nurse Chapel, in the future, simply tell me when you need time for yourself. I will not ask questions or interfere,” his voice slightly muffled as he leaned low, his tongue licking a slow circle around her nipple. He was massaging her other breast in firm strokes, alternating pressure between the way he squeezed and sucked. She gasped when he pushed his other hand slid between her legs.
“One moment,” he requested, breaking free, “Do not move.”
Christine did as she was told, amused at his dry Vulcan delivery no matter the situation. She watched him slowly disrobe, mindful to fold his uniform pants before placing, not dropping, them on the floor. His body shimmered under the warp light, a sight that sparked an unending desire in her.
He pulled her to him, his skin hot against hers. She had discovered that the Vulcan in him ran at least 2 degrees hotter than a human male. When he was inside her, that heat triggered an animalistic response from her. Her mind would go blank. She would return to herself, their bodies slick with sweat, satiated and out of breath.
His arms wrapped around her and turned her, so her back was towards his bed, and effortlessly lifted her. There was no sense of urgency, no clumsy or hurried movements. There was only a deepening understanding of the other. Of their emotions, their quirks, motivations, desires, and most importantly, commitment to each other.
She hadn’t been sure when she walked the long way around to his quarters what the outcome of her visit would be. She had hoped for a reunion but never did she expect it to be like this, one so full of meaning and unspoken commitment, support, and love.
She moaned quietly as his fingers slid inside her, finding new ways to push her to the edge, but never over. No, he would use his tongue or cock for that before relinquishing control so that he could chase his own pleasure under her guidance.
Opening her eyes, she watched him gazing down at her body, feeling the heat of his stare, the power and passion humming through his body, resting just a few inches above her. Reaching up, she stroked his cheek, tracing his lips with her thumb. His breathing was fast and full of heat.
“ You are the universe in ecstatic motion ,” he murmured.
Christine smiled, “You finally read that book of poetry by Rumi I gave you.”
“I did. A particular favourite line of mine is: ‘I want to know the joy of how you whisper "more” ’,” he said, his voice low and deep in his throat as he moved between her legs.
“We’ll see if we get to that point,” she teased. His cock twitched against her thigh, growing harder with each passing second.
“Christine,” he said dryly, “you wound me.”
“Spock, less talk, please,” she responded as she pulled him into a deep, lover’s kiss.
Try as she might, all she could do was focus on the texture of his tongue and the way the head of his cock was rubbing against her clit.
She pushed her hips up, feeling the solid shaft of his erect cock stroke down the length of her, growing hot and slick with each pass. All thoughts fled her mind as she ran her hands down his back, feeling the way his muscles bunched and flexed under her touch.
“Christine,” he gasped as her threaded her fingers through his hair, “I only ever see you.”
“Shhhh,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I know.”
And she did. It never mattered how large a group or how great the distance between them, he filled her field of view as large as a mountain. He had become her rock but he was also the one person, the only person, who could make her feel safe and protected with a simple glance. She could sense him in the darkest hours of the night, it was like he glowed for only her to find.
Spock pressed his forehead to hers and then gently pushed inside her, slowly but firmly. She gasped at the tension that this one simple movement generated between them. Some nights, when it was pure lust that drove them, she would cry out in ecstasy as he hurriedly thrust inside her. It was like all her senses were in overload, firing out of control. But sometimes, like tonight as their hearts sought to reconnect, it felt more intimate, more personal, like their bodies were joining together in an intricate dance of consent and control, of giving and taking.
In the silver light of the galaxy rushing past at warp speed, she smiled and wrapped one leg up high around his waist but keeping the other one low, increasing the way her body squeezed down around him. It was ecstasy but more than that it was anchoring them together. He had his arms underneath her, cradling her as his hips picked up tempo and force. The sound of their bodies as they met in the frantic seconds leading up to her orgasm, was joyful and made her feel so alive.
Pulling him down to her, this time he kissed her with a kind of tentative grace that broke her heart wide open. The fear of being left behind fled her body in a rush and she felt the way his heart connected to hers and finally how the love between them found a way to slip through the scars and cracks in their armour. As the tension in her pelvis increased, she felt the way he was trying to heal the wounds he created and, with a soft sigh, she welcomed it.
Wrapping her arms around him as best she could, she pressed her body into his and let her orgasm rip through her. It rolled over her in sustained waves, her body shuddered and bucked underneath him, her hips slamming into his with energy and force. Every time he thrust into her, her body responded. It pushed her into a grey area where she wasn’t sure where her pleasure began or ended. She felt like weeping as the ecstasy shifted to an exquisite, intimate joy.
“More,” she whispered in his ear.
Spock needed no other encouragement. She felt his hand slip between them and his thumb began to stroke her clit in time to how he was moving his hips. She jerked and shuddered, trying to find a way to lessen the electric shocks he was creating from shooting through her body. It was like a lightning storm raging under her skin. She felt her bones rumble and watched the way his eyes lit up, swirling with light and life, and she let out a low, primal moan as her body drifted from her control.
“Spock,” she gasped, sounding mournful to her own ears. He was going to be patient with her. This was going to be a slow journey, as close to a Vulcan mating ritual as they would ever share. With a growing sense of joy, she opened herself to it, to him.
Tears slid unnoticed down her cheeks as he joined her in that gentle space between pleasure and pain. His cock throbbed inside her as she squeezed hard around him, feeling every twitch and spasm as he came in what she could feel was a long, hot stream. They laid locked together as their bodies slowly reclaimed the calm that always followed these intense couplings. But this time instead of their bodies seeking sleep, it felt like she was offering forgiveness.
“Parted but never parted…,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.
Christine turned his face towards her, holding his gaze as she gently spoke. “Spock, there are always going to be artefacts from our past that resurface from time to time. We just need to be honest with each other and inclusive. We can’t allow them to force us apart. Or, at least, they can’t be allowed to keep us apart for long.”
He studied her then and, as best as a Vulcan is able, he smiled and lit up her world like the sun.
She cupped his face and kissed him. It was a tender, searching kiss full of all the words she hadn’t found to say and all the love she had for him. She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her, nudging his lips open with the tip of her tongue, tracing the shape of his lips until she felt the rumble of his moan before she heard it.
She felt his hands tangle in her hair and deepened the kiss, losing herself to the way his velvet tongue wrap around hers and how his nails scratched lightly over her scalp and down her back. She broke away to catch her breath and felt his lips on her neck. He always knew just where her pulse points were and how best to make her heart rate increase by gently nuzzling them.
Christine could once again feel that electric current that sizzled and snapped between them. Three weeks was a long time and the desire she had for him was burning through her like a wildfire. She reached for him as he reached for her and she felt the intricate ways their souls connected.
For a moment, they held onto one another, growing familiar once again with each other’s skin and heartbeats. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his breath on the tender skin between her breasts.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered against the top of his head.
Slowly, Spock moved his body off of hers, pulling her into his side as he did. She watched his muscles ripple and shift as he moved and felt the heat in her blood reignite. This time, it was about wanting him, not needing him. With just the barest of pressure, she ran her fingertips in a meandering line down the centre of his torso. She knew, given just a few minutes more, she could coax him back to life. Vulcans ran hot in more ways than one.
Swinging her leg over his hips so that she could straddle him, she moved her hips in the circular motion against his flaccid cock. With a sly smile, she increased the pressure where their bodies met and felt the first surge of blood returning as he slowly hardened. He gripped her hips and moaned, a mix of disbelief and pleasure, when she grasped him and stroked hard and firm until his erection took hold.
“Spock?” she said softly, taking his hands in hers.
“Hmmm?” he answered, mesmerized by the way she controlled him.
“Parted from me and never parted. Always touching and untouched. I meet you at the appointed place,” she said as she slid down his hard cock until he was deep inside her.
“Christine?” he gasped as she ground down on him, moving in one direction and then another.
“Hmmmm?” she answered, mesmerized by the way he felt as he rolled his hips slowly to match her rhythm.
“More.”
Her mind went to a quiet, blank space where all that mattered was the two of them and the way their bodies felt locked together. They had managed to find a secret place in the turbulent galaxy that surrounded them. They laid claim to it with the beauty they managed to create everytime they spoke truth to their lives. She always felt a peaceful joy when the doors were open between them.
Now, as they rocked their bodies together, she thought of how they had broken each other’s hearts. How the pain was deeper, more keenly felt then any hurt she had experienced in her life. But now, she felt her heart open once and for all.
“So this is what forever feels like…,” she murmured as she looked down at him.
“I will always find you…,” he sighed as he tenderly cupped her face in his large hands.
They were in no rush now, all the frantic need to feel had been met, now it was about something deeply held in the bond between them. Christine hooked her feet under Spock’s powerful thighs and slowed her movements to a pulsing crawl. She wanted to feel every shudder, every twitch, every single movement he made. A thin line of sweat ran down her back as she laboured to keep control of not just her body but his as well.
His breathing was growing shorter and deeper. He grasped her hips, trying to encourage her to move faster, harder against him. Somehow, she managed to keep their shared rhythm to what she wanted and watched as the way her body moved around his cock was affecting him. She felt her orgasm building and knew she would come before him.
Still, she kept her movements slow and deliberate, keeping her pleasure at bay. She wanted him to watch and feel her as she moved them both towards their shared ecstasy. Her body flexed forward of its own accord, betraying her intent to make this last, she wanted to reach for him but his hips rocketed up against her. It was all either of them needed.
She let her head fall back and heard the exhalation of breath as he rapidly lost control of his body’s need to release the energy it was holding onto. Gripping his hands, Christine thrust hard against him until she felt the rush of heat in her pelvis explode outwards and watched as stars burst into life around them.
The wave of ecstasy she rode seemed endless. She could faintly hear him whispering her name over and over, telling her he loved her with a tenderness reserved only for this shared moment, as his hands moved to explore her body. A groan burst out of him and she felt him explode deep inside her.
“Oh God, Spock” she gasped, “that was…”
“Better than more,” he finished for her.
As gracefully as she could, she laid back down on the bed beside him. With a deep, satisfied sigh, she laid her head on his chest and let her body relax. He pressed a kiss into the top of her head and pulled her close. They spent a few minutes in silence, catching their breath and listening to the thrum of the warp drive as they sped across the quadrant.
“Don’t move,” he whispered.
Before she could ask why, she felt his thumb once again moving against her clit and felt the heat building in her blood with just a few simple strokes. Her body once again locked on to him in a series of pulsing, shuddering, grinding thrusts.
She came again in a powerful, soul shattering rush. She felt like her consciousness was scattered across time and space, shattered as Spock coaxed her body, mind and soul into a space of pure ecstasy. She heard him calling her back to her body, calling her home to him, and she could think of no other place she would rather be.
Christine didn’t know how long this oasis of paradise would last, but she loved this man. Deeply, passionately, but with the clarity of mind and heart to know the impermanence of it all in the vastness of space. The Gorn attack had shown her just how fleeting this life could be. They had almost lost one another, again, and she meant to grab hold of every moment afforded to them from now on.
Snuggling into the bed, against him, she tried to push all the dark thoughts from her mind. Spock would never promise her anything he didn’t believe he could do, keep, or share but she could feel that there was something coming, something bigger than either of them could counter, that would rip their world apart.
As she let herself chase the darkness of sleep, she pulled Spock’s hand to rest over her heart. She loved him enough to dismantle the barriers she had built to protect her heart from breaking. He may be the greatest love she would ever know. It felt eternal to her and with every shared breath, the very idea that he could be snatched from her life with no warning meant every moment together was one to be celebrated. He lit up her Universe, a speck of light in the emptiness, as the Enterprise traveled towards the unknown.
“ Nenlohk dwon zeesh , Christine,” Spock said softly, as though reading her mind.
“I love you, too, Spock,” she said, smiling as she drifted off to sleep, content that for now the universe was allowing them this time together.
Her dream that night was of a field out beyond the edge of the earth. The tall grasses shifted in the breeze, revealing a path to a meadow full of wildflowers. She could smell roses, daisies, lavender and something spicy, like sandalwood mixed with peony. She didn’t need to see him to know Spock was there, waiting for her to join him. Even in this impossible place, love was the bridge that connected them.