elliewood | Fic: Consort, Chapter 20

"We are now crossing the boundary of the Neutral Zone. At our current velocity, we will reach Rura Penthe in approximately forty standard hours. I will de-cloak the vessel when we are two hours distant; you should devise a plan for retrieving the inmate before then."

The Ambassador folded his hands. "I believe the best approach would be to present ourselves as new detainees and yourself as our captor. If you would signal the prison when we approach and request a detail to receive us, you can beam us down, then await our signal to transport us back up once we have custody of our comrade and have disabled the magnetic field. Of course," he added, lifting an eyebrow in the Romulan's direction, "this plan relies on your remaining in orbit until we comm you. I trust you are not planning on leaving us, or the balance of your payment, behind."

"You have my word," the Romulan said tersely. "I am no liar."

Spock turned to where the two Humans leaned wearily against the navigation console. "You may wish to rest now. We will all need to be at peak performance capability when we arrive at the planetoid."

Uhura nodded and slung her duffel over her shoulder. "Where's the bathroom?"

***

"Not much on personal comfort, are they?"

Uhura and McCoy stood gazing at the austerity of the small, bare table with one stool nearby, the cabinet for storage of food and small supplies, and the recessed sleeping chamber that, to McCoy's eye, resembled more closely an individual crypt in a mausoleum. These, together with the tiny bathroom Uhura had just exited, evidently constituted the entirety of what the Romulan had referred to as the ship's personal accommodations.

"You take it," McCoy said. "I'll find a spot on the floor." He pulled a surgical sheet from his bag and shook out its folds to lay it on the deck.

"Don't be stupid; you can't sleep curled around the furniture like a shrimp. There's plenty of room in the pod. Here," she said, taking the sheet from his hands and spreading it across the bunk. "Now you get in feet first, and I'll squeeze in behind. We'll fit, you'll see."

She was right, although they had to leave their boots, jackets, and McCoy's neck pillow outside the chamber in order to fit comfortably. Once inside, she slid her hands around his back to pull his body against her.

"Comfy?"

"Mmm, yes," he murmured as she tugged at him to lie on top of her, opening her legs to cradle him between them. "But I don't think we're gonna get a lot of sleep if we lie like this."

"Sleeping is not what I had in mind."

His brain stuttered to a complete halt. "You...what, you mean...here?"

Her lips were on his neck, then the lobe of one ear, her hands with their bandaged fingertips clutching at his hair to move his face to hers so he could read her intent.

He shook his head, baffled. "I'm not gonna make love to you for the first time in the sleeping pod of some alien ship!"

"Wrong. That's exactly what you're going to do." She drew his head down, her mouth finding his and opening it, the tip of her tongue coaxing his lips apart as he yielded to her briefly before pulling away to look down at her in bemusement.

"Don't you want to wait until we have more...I don't know, room, privacy, something? Because I gotta tell you, it's a little awkward in here."

He wasn't aware that he was grinding his hips into hers until she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in tighter.

"If we had all that," she said into his ear, "would you want to?"

"Yeah, I..." He paused to push against her again, distracted by his own need and by the warmth of her radiating through his trousers. "Yeah. I would. But..."

"Listen to me." Her eyes blazed into his. "We're going to a Klingon prison planet with a Romulan bounty hunter, practically defenseless, without the armament of a starship, without any backup from Starfleet. If you ask Spock to calculate the odds of success, he'll tell you they're miniscule. We could both be dead by this time tomorrow, but we're alive now, and we're going to do what the living do. This could be our only chance."

"But I want this to be about more than just sex for us. I want to love you properly."

She silenced him with another kiss, more insistent this time as she explored his mouth to find his tongue and suck on it gently, releasing him only when he groaned helplessly into her.

"This is proper." She took one hand from his hair and ran it down his side to his hip, then over to where his erection lay like a stone against her softness. "Just because this isn't the perfect time or place doesn't make it wrong. The only thing that would be is you not loving me at all."

"It's too late," he sighed into her throat. "I already do. Too much." And hated himself for saying it.

"Bullshit." She took his hand and ran it under her shirt to place it on one breast, inviting his fingers to pull on the nipple beneath. "You think you love me now? Just wait another half-hour or so and you're going to be over the moon."

He was lost then, his mouth replacing his fingers to nibble and suck at her hungrily. "Better be careful," he mumbled around the tightening flesh, "or it'll be a lot shorter than half an hour. It's been a while."

She grinned down at him as she reached for his trousers. "I'll do my best."

So he loved her, and it was every bit as awkward as he'd feared but better than he could have hoped for, and he did indeed come as quickly as a teenager the first time but redeemed himself with a second act that left her panting and laughing in disbelief as she climaxed violently, one naked leg wrapped around his buttocks while its partner struggled to free itself from the pants and underwear that twisted around it. He let himself release into her then, his knees kneading the surgical drape beneath them as though attempting to crawl even further inside her, his breath against her hair a rasping whine. And when he collapsed upon her, completely spent, she moved to give him room to lie on his side so that she faced him, her legs interlaced with his, her eyes watchful as his closed first, in blissful exhaustion, then stilled into sleep.

***

"Spock. I would speak with you."

He turned from the viewscreen to find the Ambassador gazing at him with an expression so sternly indecipherable that he startled at the sight. He waited.

"I am sure you are already aware that the probability of success in this endeavor is small. We are attempting the rescue of a man who in all likelihood is already dead, and we will likely die ourselves in the process. But in the event that he is not and that we do not, I offer the following as advice to you.

"If you are to be the consort of James Kirk, you must resign yourself to an existence as perilous and uncertain as his own. He will take innumerable, incomprehensible risks. He will consistently value the lives of others over his own and act accordingly. He will always seek to protect you but will resent your protection. He will frustrate and confound you, time and again. Yet you cannot wish him to be otherwise. You cannot shelter him against himself. Nor, in like manner, can you shelter yourself in the hope of preventing the emotional distress that necessarily accompanies partnership with such a man. Not only will you be unsuccessful in that attempt, you will also cause him pain, as you are now doing."

Something dark coiled at the base of his brain, something black and feverish and sweet, and it cheered his truculent response to the Ambassador's words.

"I cannot think why my association with Jim is any of your concern. And may I point out that he is not yours to protect, either."

"You are correct. He is not the Jim I knew, in many ways. But his identity in this universe does not preclude my interest in his welfare. He is suffering, and you have the power to alleviate that suffering."

"What do you know of us?" The blackness slid behind his eyes, warming them, slitting them against the challenge. "I have done everything for him."

"Everything but give of yourself, wholly and fully. He knows you do not; what he does not know is why. But I do. I can tell you that abject loneliness lies ahead of you if you persist in denying him any part of your being and continue to allow him to believe it is some deficit of his that causes your denial. You are not deserving of him if you do not accept and share with him that which you find objectionable in yourself."

He felt the heat of the black thing in his head and in the itching of his hands, heard it snarl with his voice. "I warn you, old man. You have said enough. Involve yourself no further in my affairs."

The Ambassador stood his ground, uncowed. "Do not consider me a rival, Spock, for I am not. Nothing would bring me greater satisfaction than to see you and Jim successfully espoused. But if such an attachment were not to occur, I would see him happy, even at the expense of your contentment and of my own as well. Such, sadly, is the nature of true affection."