Loving Angels Instead
Lovin’ Angels Instead
Fic: Soral179
Beta: Crystalmir
Art: Trprillafiction
Prompt AngelSpock by Amanda Warrington
The rest of the crew did not share his First Officer’s position. Though the celebration was some months away the leave on Starbase 6 would no doubt involve many in the activity of locating the ideal gift. Three years at the academy had ensured that the Non- Terran crew were just as eager to involve themselves in the joys of giving and receiving.
Perhaps future replicators would be able to produce gifts on a whim, but it would never be the same as locating that special item in an out of the way shop planet-side or from a trader on a starbase or space station mall. He signed off the leave arrangements after slotting himself into the second cycle, noting briefly the presence of his First Officer and Communications officer on the same leave period. Next he had a meeting with the Quartermaster and his provisioning team: Perhaps they could do something to sort out the coffee problem, what the replicators were producing was bilge-water.
~&~
They had docked the previous day, and the first leave cycle were already spending their credits and propping up the entertainment establishments of the base. Kirk put aside his latest indulgence, a paper copy of “All quiet on the Western Front,” one of the few books describing Earth’s First World War from the perspective of the soldiers on the losing side. The book reminded him that soldiers on all sides of a conflict suffered and that the history of conflict should never be the sole prerogative of the victor, such an approach de-humanised (he wished there was a better word in Standard) the loser and led to an uneasy peace.
The com-link buzzed, distracting his philosophising, “Captain Kirk, special cargo ready for transport.”
Kirk smiled to himself; this was one cargo that he wanted to check in himself, an early Christmas present from the base commander Max Devlin.
Real coffee!
It was an indulgence given in gratitude for Spock’s assistance in debugging the base’s replicator system.
As soon as this precious cargo was stowed Jim Kirk planned to beam down for a little R&R activity of his own before meeting the command crew for a meal. It would be good for them to enjoy some non-replicated food together and to socialise without the threat of an imminent Red Alert. After checking the cargo had arrived on board safely he confirmed all was well with the bridge and hit the sonic before changing into civilian attire. He would have plenty of time for drinks with Bones and Scotty before they met up with the rest of the command team, perhaps there would be time for a little bar hopping afterwards too. He was looking forward to hearing how the crew had spent their shore leave, especially Spock. He had a feeling that Spock might have some particularly noteworthy news considering the conversation they had had before the ship docked.
~&~
A week before
Spock took the small silver ring from the walnut box that it had been stored in since the day his mother had given it to him. The ring had been his grandmother’s; when she died it had been part of his mother’s inheritance. His mother had given him the box on his departure from Vulcan, but it was not until he received her first vid-com that she told him the significance of the gift.
Touching the ring brought forth a memory of that parting.
He stood outside the family villa waiting for the transport to Vulcan Space Central; his father had not spoken to him from the day that he had declared his intent to turn down the offer of a place at the Vulcan Science Academy. His mother had grasped his shoulder and straightened the collar of his travelling clothes. The action had irritated him, he was not a child, but he did not remove her hands as he had done before the VSA admissions hearing. Neither mother nor son was certain when they would next meet, but both knew he was unlikely to stand on this spot again in the near future, a spot which no longer existed.
His mother had stepped back, the transport would arrive shortly and she would not disgrace her son with an emotional display in front of others. A few silent tears ran down her face.
“Mother, you are crying.”
He found himself reaching out to wipe the tears away as he had once done as a child.
Amanda drew a breath to compose herself, and then pressed a small box into his hand.
“A son leaves the family home twice in his life, the first time for an education and the second when he chooses the one with whom he intends to spend the rest of his life. It is my hope that you find your studies rewarding but it is my greater hope that you find a love as deep as that which I have been fortunate to know.”
He had not understood at the time, but those words and his father’s as they both grieved for their joint loss had been the base against which he judged his own emotions for the woman who he was now planning to bond with. He believed he had found that same love, and the communication which had arrived from his Father that day had removed any legal impediment to his intention to bond with Nyota. All that remained was to locate a suitable venue for the proposal.
~&~
Kirk had been completing the usual round of paperwork when Spock had approached him for assistance.
“I believe you are familiar with the facilities on Starbase 6.”
“Well, it depends what facilities you are referring to, I did visit during the course of my shipboard training whilst at the academy, but I get the feeling the kind of dives I visited are not the facilities you are interested in.”
“I am seeking a recommendation for a dining establishment, a discrete and private location.”
“Uhura?” he had asked expecting Spock to say he had, ‘No comment ‘on the matter.
“Indeed, there is an……important matter which I intend to discuss with her.”
“Intend, or intended?”
Spock had not confirmed or denied the implication of Kirk’s words, but his resolute and determined look said it all. Uhura was one lucky woman. Jim thought for a moment, his usual haunts would be singularly unsuitable however he had been on transporter duty for part of the training cruise and this gave him perspective on the destinations the crew had chosen for their shore leave activities.
“Quaggliano’s has an excellent reputation and an extensive vegan menu. It should suffice,” he said with a wink.
Spock departed, no doubt to arrange a reservation, leaving Jim smiling at the turn of events, he had needed a distraction from the paperwork, and locating details of the protocols for shipboard weddings was ideal. He wondered whether it would be considered, ‘fixing’ if he entered a bet in the pool that engineering was running on the “First to the Altar” race.
~&~
Nyota Uhura looked stunning and she knew it. Spock had made arrangements to meet in an extremely expensive location. That could mean only one thing. He had beamed down earlier and she was heading to the transporter to join him, it was a woman’s prerogative to be late. There would just be time to pick up the bracelets she had left in Spock’s quarters the previous evening.
As she closed the clasps of the items, and smoothed down the traditional kaftan she had chosen to wear for what she anticipated would be a very special occasion she noted an on screen message from Spock to his Father enquiring about the progress in confirming the status of his betrothal.
How could she have been so foolish, Spock had been playing with her affections, using her, he had NEVER intended this to be a permanent arrangement. Face grim, she headed to the transporter room.
Jim Kirk looked across the transporter pad at his communications officer, she looked stunning. At least she would have if her normally smiling face had not been replaced with a set jaw and angry visage. Well the surprise that was ahead would surely change her demeanour.
“Looking forward to dinner at Quaggliano’s?” he asked, tempted to wink but that would have given the game away.
Uhura failed to reply.
~&~
It had been three days since Spock received word from Sarek confirming what he had already known since the destruction of Vulcan, that his betrothed T’Pring had perished. The bond with T’Pring had never been strong; indeed she had asked to dissolve the bond before the Enterprise had been due to commence its first mission.
Whilst bonded he had forsworn involvement with another. However that did not prevent his noticing Nyota Uhura, everyone at the academy noticed her. In the second year of his teaching posting he had been fortunate enough to be allocated her support as a teaching assistant for the Vulcanoid Language module, a course which he taught in addition to his main duties in astrophysics and simulation programming. Nyota was a Communications and command track trainee, at the academy but had entered that programme with a Masters in Xenolinguistics.
She had intrigued him from the start, perhaps it was because her linguistic ability reminded him of his mother. Like his mother Nyota collected languages and dialects. They shared a love of music, just as her fingers danced over the communication console they also danced over the strings of a number of instruments from her own cultural background. Her singing voice was as comfortable with the cadences and rhythms of classical Vulcan poetry as it was with Terran Jazz. Nor had he been immune to her aesthetic appeal. However he had kept their relationship formal pending the annulment of his bond with T’Pring, it would not have been proper to behave otherwise.
The destruction of Vulcan changed everything, T Pring perished.
Nyota had come to him when he had needed support and things had developed quickly thereafter. The two of them shared an ambition to explore new worlds from the twin angles of science and communication. Nyota’s friendship and support had been vital in combating the loneliness and isolation he had experienced over the months following the loss of his mother and his home planet. Their friendship had moved to a discrete but physically passionate relationship, however he had held back from the final commitment, to formally ask her to bond with him, until the official confirmation of T’Pring’s death.
He thought about his mother, and the fact she would not be the, “Proud mother,” at their Koon-ut-Kalifee. It was an illogical sentiment to attach importance to his mother’s opinion but he felt sure his mother would have approved of Nyota as his chosen bond mate. Though his mother had never and would never know Nyota in that capacity, she had at least met the young cadet and fellow linguist when she had visited her son at the academy. His mother had presented a series of seminars on her work with the Universal Translator; Nyota had been allocated as her faculty liaison.
His mother had been impressed.
He watched Nyota Uhura traverse the restaurant, rising to greet her. He felt oddly apprehensive, later he would realise that he had already picked up the subliminal emotional cues her body language was providing, but all the same her verbal response was shocking and unexpected.
She looked at him with barely disguised distain.
“So you thought to soften the blow by arranging a meeting in a classy restaurant to avoid a scene, ‘Classic Kirk,’ I expect he even provided the recommendation.”
He reached out towards her, he knew his face expressed far more emotion than he would have wished in public, but Nyota’s behaviour seemed to defy logical explanation
“I suppose I was just an exotic interlude before you settled down with someone of your own species.”
Though Nyota was speaking quietly her voice still carried and several other patrons turned to see what the problem was.
“I do not understand Nyota.”
“Of course not, it’s not in your emotional repertoire to do so. Did you honestly think that I wouldn’t find out, how long were you planning to continue this charade?”
She did not draw breath, which at least would have provided him with the chance to determine the cause for her emotional response.
“As far as I am concerned we are history.”
Nyota turned and negotiated the tables, pony-tail swinging defiantly.
Spock sat for several minutes, his hand tightly clasped around the plain silver band. Collecting his mental shielding, he paid the check and exited the establishment. He had completely lost his appetite for Italian food.
~&~
Jim had located his CMO and Engineer with ease. McCoy had Scotty had already taken advantage of the chance to slake their throats and their raucous laughter, recalling some incident at the academy, was a verbal beacon to their commanding officer.
Judging by the effect his presence had on the volume of laughter it was probably about his legendary love life. Love life, what love life he mused, since becoming captain he had been too busy to think about the fairer sex, in fact almost too busy to think about sex at all. After ordering an Altair Water, he preferred to have his wits about him at least until after the dinner, he ambled over to the ‘laughing hyenas’ and sat back to listen to his friends recounting their escapades on shore leave over the next few hours. They were still laughing when he reminded them of the time and need to move on to the evening rendezvous point in a nearby hotel.
His decision to stay sober was a sensible manoeuvre; the first clue to the trouble ahead had been his transporter pad observations, the second indication that something was amiss was Uhura’s decision to position herself between Chekov and Dr McCoy rather than next to Spock.
Uhura was not acting like a woman who had just accepted a proposal.
If Jim sought any indication of the reason for her actions in Spock’s face or body language he was to be disappointed.
The meal proceeded with the usual pleasantries, discussions about the engines, missions that had occurred since they left Earth, discoveries; research projects; all the usual fare of such gatherings at some point a successful shopping trip was recalled. The conversation turned to the forthcoming Winter Solstice celebration and gift giving plans. Sulu wouldn’t say what his gifts would be; only that he had been busy in the botany laboratory. Chekov had been shopping on the starbase and assured the company that his presents would be, “Wery practical.” Scotty would only clarify that his gift was of doubtful legality.
“Spock, you’ve not said much so far, what special romantic gift are you considering for the delightful Lieutenant?” asked McCoy.
Jim glared at McCoy; considering the man was a medic his inability to pick up on the emotional atmosphere was almost Vulcan. McCoy, picking up Kirk’s vibes, assumed the cold look from Kirk meant he had offended Vulcan mores.
“Sorry Spock, “he drawled, “You probably think our Terran traditions totally illogical and that romance is over-rated.”
“Romance is not in Mr Spock’s vocabulary, “remarked Nyota with barely disguised contempt.
The evening was not going well. However, what happened next surprised everyone: Spock stood, pushed back his chair and in total silence exited the restaurant. The command crew stared after him he could not have dampened the atmosphere any more if he had soaked them all with a fire-hose.
McCoy broke the ensuing silence, looking around apologetically, “Well I sure put my foot in it!”
“That Bones is an understatement,” Kirk groaned.
“I suppose on that note perhaps we should all retire.” Sulu suggested wisely.
~&~
One of the things that made James T Kirk a good commander was that he cared about the wellbeing of his crew. He had a sixth sense, and it was telling him that there was more to this situation than McCoy’s lack of cultural awareness. He had a good idea what that might be, but not why.
His First Officer had taken a left turn on exiting the restaurant, away from the local hotel to the transporter terminal. Jim excused himself from the previously planned bar hopping and headed back to the ship. He found Spock in the arboretum, seated on a wooden bench over which a wooden frame had been constructed. Though the lighting was set at evening levels he could make out the nature of the climbing plant over the framework, an old fashioned scented rose. Spock had once told him that his mother had grown a similar variety. Spock’s decision to come here rather than retreat to his quarters suggested that the conflict that precipitated Spock’s silent outburst earlier was pretty major.
Spock was turning something in his hands, an occasional flash of light from the object made its nature obvious. He had been right in his supposition regarding Spock’s intention to propose.
LINK TO ART HERE
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Kirk opened his mouth to speak, but Spock had already sensed his presence
“I must apologise for my abrupt departure, Captain.”
“No need Spock, Bones was a complete ass.”
“Perhaps he was correct, Nyota seemed to think so.”
That threw Kirk for a loop; there was something in the earlier exchange that he was missing, some vital clue…
“Lieutenant Uhura believes that I am insufficiently romantic, amongst other things. It was one of the reasons that she terminated our relationship.” Spock supplied.
“I guess Bones really put the boot in.”
“He was unaware.”
Sensing that this was not the moment to pursue matters relating to Uhura, Kirk moved the conversation to more neutral ground.
“Did your mother celebrate the winter festival?”
For a period of time Spock remained silent, Jim began to assume his intuition had failed him
“Yes, the time was very precious to her, perhaps at some other juncture I might tell you of my parent’s first Christmas.” Spock rose to exit
“If you need to talk further Spock, I am always available.”
~&~
The only outward sign of the change in Spock and Uhura’s relationship was that they had ceased their occasional musical soirees in the rec room. Their professional interaction was as it had always been. But that did not mean that the one-time couple were immune to the pain of a broken relationship.
A week passed before Spock sought Kirk’s assistance; uncharacteristically he had remained behind at the end of a staff meeting. Jim poured a second cup of coffee and sat across from his First Officer. Pushing the cup towards Spock he opened the conversation.
“So, Spock how can I help?”
“I am not sure.”
“Try me.”
Spock’s brow furrowed as he contemplated how to initiate the dialogue before settling on a form of words.
“My father’s relationship with my mother was unusual; some of the more conservative elements of Vulcan society would consider a love match scandalous. It is our way, our culture to arrange betrothals.”
A look of consternation passed over Kirk’s face.
“Please do not misunderstand my betrothed T’Pring had already petitioned to break the betrothal bond. If your disciplinary hearing had not been postponed, keeping me behind on Earth, I would have been on my home world at the time of its destruction answering that petition. I was aware that she had died, the bond had fractured as Vulcan itself perished, however Federation law necessitates official confirmation before a marriage petition can be granted: before I could propose to Nyota.”
He pushed his PADD towards Jim; on it was a message to his Father enquiring about the progress in confirming the status of his betrothed.
Nyota saw the communication from my Father to confirm T’Pring’s death.” However she saw only the outer content, she did not open the communication further.
Opening the message Jim saw the face of a stunning young woman describing her clan and betrothal status; down the right side was writing, the ancient Vulcan script which Jim had seen on so many documents at the Vulcan embassy, he recognised it instantly as the Vulcan equivalent of the Terran Certificate of Confirmation of Death.
“She assumed that you were seeking a betrothal; that you were going to leave her?” Jim was incredulous.
“Yes.”
“Then why did you not just tell her the situation, tell her what had happened. I am sure that she would have…”
“Changed her mind, Captain?”
“Well yes…”
“It is possible; however I do not think that I would have changed mine. A relationship is built on trust, my feelings for Nyota were clear yet she preferred to conceive that they were neither real nor genuine. Misunderstandings happen, but I do not think that the trust could be rebuilt.
“It hurts?”
It should have been completely the wrong thing to say but somehow he knew it wasn’t.
“Yes, it hurts”
~&~
Kirk looked at the efficiency ratings his CMO had placed before him.
“Jim, if it were anyone else a dip in efficiency as small as this I would not draw to your attention, but this is Spock, unless he is unconscious his efficiency and productivity NEVER fall.”
“You do know that he was going to propose to Uhura last Shore Leave?”
“No, no Jim I did not know: anything else you have been keeping from me?”
“Nothing I am aware of.”
“Well since you seem to have your finger on the Vulcan pulse, maybe you can do something therapeutic before I have to pull him in for psych evaluation.”
“Like what.”
“Oh I don’t know, you’ll think of something perhaps a new hobby something to distract him, it always worked for you.”
Bones was right, if Spock had been human as his Captain and as a friend he would already have been on the case. Drunken bar crawls and picking up women were best left back at the academy so Kirk trawled his memory banks for the various activities he had taken up over the years in order to get over a girl. There had been several: snowboarding, pole-vaulting, karate but one in particular came to mind that would keep his technically minded First Officer occupied.
Photography.
It didn’t take him long to locate his First Officer and even less time to persuade him to leave the scientific paper that he was reviewing for a companionable game of chess. Spock’s game was uncharacteristically off; a clear sign that “Operation Image” was definitely required.
“Checkmate.”
Spock tilted his queen, “Another game?”
“That would be taking advantage, I’d prefer to talk.”
“And the subject?”
“Women.”
A raised eyebrow allowed Kirk the necessary opening.
“Look I’ve been where you are more times than I care to recall, fallen deeply, and then fallen flat. It hurts less when you have a distraction. When it happened to me I used to challenge myself into something new, something out of my comfort zone: preferably something that gave me an adrenaline rush. It’s something to do with laying down new neuronal pathways, at least that’s what Bones told me. Come to think of it orbital sky-diving was one of the things I learnt post break-up. I don’t need to tell you how useful that turned out to be”
“Your suggestion has merits.”
“Then meet me in Rec Suite 3 after alpha shift tomorrow.”
~&~
Spock’s arrival was characteristically prompt, Rec Suite 3 was an odd location, it was a non-descript area occasionally used for music and drama rehearsal. To his surprise his captain arrived at the location out of uniform and carrying an image generator.
“I told you that the patent Kirk method for moving on is distraction, well we can’t orbital skydive without a planet, but I thought I’d introduce you to something else that I took up. In fact it was my first rebound hobby. It won’t have such an adrenalin rush effect but it will function as a distraction.”
It wasn’t the entire truth, but he wasn’t going to reveal that he had spent a lot of time charming a couple of attractive young women into being photographed naked for his portfolio. He had certainly got an adrenaline rush from that, and a hormonal one to boot, one of them became his next conquest. He could not imagine Spock going that far but he could use the activity to push Spock out of his comfort zone.
For the next half hour Kirk got Spock used to exploring lighting effects, aperture adjustment, image collection speeds and other technical issues whilst his First Officer Spock took various pictures of the captain. Kirk demonstrated a few standard portrait poses and then stripped off his shirt for some action shots; they then stopped for a short break to look at the images. Spock was curious, he found the activity intriguing but it had not provided the efflux of epinephrine which the captain had declared beneficial.
Kirk smiled to himself, Spock was looking a little perturbed, now for the jugular, “OK, Spock now it’s your turn to be the other side of the camera.”
“Captain I fail to define the purpose of this exercise, is it not sufficient to frame the images.”
“On the contrary a good photographer needs to understand the limits of his model; it is not possible to gain that understanding sitting behind the camera.”
It was difficult to argue with the captain’s logic; however as the shoot commenced Spock found that he was uncomfortable with the whole process. Kirk took Spock through the standard portrait poses then put the image generator aside. Spock was relieved that he had not had to remove his shirt or perform any of the action shot manoeuvres that Kirk had demonstrated. He lacked the brash vigour of the Captain and drawing attention to himself and his physical appearance was an experience he did not actively seek out.
“Well as they say in the best studios, “That’s a wrap.” Spock moved to observe the images but Kirk hand-palmed him.
“I need to prepare the images, we will look at them tomorrow, my quarters 20:00.”
~&~
When Spock arrived at Kirk’s quarters the following evening a selection of images lay on the captain’s table. “A little wooden perhaps.” Kirk stated cocking his head to one side to view the images, but not bad for a first shoot.”
“Then this was only the first lesson?”
“Yes, the first lesson is learning to observe, photography allows you to see yourself how others see you. For example this is the first shot I took of you, your posture is a little stiff and your face shows apprehension.”
Kirk was correct, that was the feeling he had experienced.
“How are you able to ascertain that?”
“Well most people wouldn’t notice but using a camera taught me to watch people more closely, for example you draw your lower lip in, and your eyebrows are just a little lower than usual.”
Spock’s left eyebrow rose; Jim laughed and pulled out another image showing the same expression that had just passed across Spock’s face.
“That is your I’m intrigued image”
Pulling forward the last image Jim smiled.
“And this is your two-brows furrowed ‘I can’t fathom your logic look.”
“Fascinating!”
For the next hour Kirk outlined a series of projects which would introduce Spock into the art of photography in its various forms that would keep him busy, and distracted for the next three months. The plan worked well, Spock’s efficiency rating soon returned to Vulcan norms and he attacked the assignments with the typical focus and attention to detail that only a Vulcan could have.
In addition to their regular chess games Spock and he found themselves discussing the relative technical merits of imagers and imaging software. They discussed the history of photography, and admired the work produced in the pre-digital age. They even blackened their fingers with silver salts whilst experimenting with old fashioned developing techniques. The rec room got a small exhibition of freeze framed images of Sulu fencing whilst they explored the development of motion imaging.
They explored still life pictures and formal portraiture and landscape. Well at least they would have but the unique lighting on Vella III, the location of their most recent planet-side scientific mission had resulted in their first failed shoot. The snowscape pictures were significantly over exposed: A shame, Chekov’s practical presents turned out to be ear covering winter head-wear.
~&~
It was towards Christmas that James T Kirk became aware of two things.
First of all his frustrated friend and CMO was right, he was spending a lot of off duty hours with his First Officer.
Secondly that his First Officer was attractive and the effects of that attraction were inconvenient, damned inconvenient. This was not what he had intended to happen and without Vulcan emotional suppression skills he was finding it difficult to prevent his First Officer becoming aware of those effects.
Then things stalled. Jim had set an assignment that had apparently been too difficult. On the surface it was simple; Spock was to take a series of candid shots, capturing how the crew behaved when they thought they were not being watched. Spock had not been able to achieve this and seemed not to have understood what Jim was getting at. After the third attempt of stilted picture taking Jim decided he needed to illustrate what was required.
That was exactly what Spock had been hoping for.
~&~
When he entered the Captain’s cabin for their next chess match, in addition to the 3D chess game, Jim had erected a camera to record the scene.
“I’ve set the camera to take a series of images as we play. This should help you get the idea. You’ll see the difference it makes to an image when the subject forgets or doesn’t realise he or she is being observed.”
LINK TO IMAGE
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Spock felt somewhat apprehensive, there was much riding on the outcome of this session. What if he had been wrong, could he have misinterpreted what he had seen whilst attempting the candid shot assignment:. No, that was unlikely; he had repeated the experiment three times with the same results. From his candid shots of Jim he had concluded that there was little doubt that the Captain was attracted to him. He would normally have quoted the odds complete with confidence limits, but he had found it decidedly difficult to calculate odds where James T Kirk was the focus.
If he could create a situation where Kirk demonstrated the candid image technique using Spock as the model he might be able to convey his own feelings. However he had no way of predicting Kirk’s reaction to the images that would be generated, showing him that his attraction was reciprocated. It did not surprise Spock that his game was off; Kirk won an unprecedented three matches in a row. They talked inconsequentially over a nightcap. If Spock was disappointed that Kirk had elected to view the images later he did not show it.
~&~
Two days later Kirk finally had the opportunity to look at the time-lapse sequence he had shot of the chess game; it had been his intention to select a few images to show Spock the difference between spontaneous and posed. The first set of images was typical, Spock was rigid and aware of the camera, he had periodically glanced at the instrument, but it was the final sequence that surprised Jim, not surprised bowled over as a better description.
Jim had known that this approach would yield some more natural images but what he was viewing was completely unexpected. When making his own moves Spock was focused and intense, but when Kirk was making his moves and unaware of anything other than the chess board his First Officer’s focus was on him rather than the game. Spock focused on his captain’s hands as they moved the pieces and on his eyes as Kirk contemplated a move. He focused on his lips as Jim licked them in concentration and when he had moved to the replicator to collect a drink after his game focused on his…………
Jim knew what those looks meant. He’d done enough of that kind of surreptitious gazing himself recently to know exactly what that look meant. The intention of the photography exercises had been to distract his First Officer, but this was the last direction he had predicted things would go. He was supposed to be taking Spock out of his comfort zone and diverting his attention from the recent break-up with Uhura.
Now it was Jim Kirk who was the one out of his comfort zone.
Way out of it!
~&~
A natural hiatus developed in their photographic endeavours Mr Scott, concerned that the Christmas celebrations go off without hitch, had asked for a double duty cycle to complete some much needed maintenance of the computer system. Of course this took Spock’s undivided attention both on and off duty. Their interaction was limited to a quick coffee in the daily briefing or at the end of shift in the rec room, no chance for much dialogue let alone ‘discussion’ of the most recent candid camera assignment.
Kirk had arrived early for their rec room rendezvous, which was why he happened to be there for the Entertainment Group’s announcement. A Christmas countdown to get you in the festive spirit they had called it: Choose a song make an image to accompany it and share it with the ship. A board had been erected in the corner of the room with a selection of songs. As captain he had often involved himself in these kinds of activities as a morale booster always with discretion. Would this be a suitable activity, he hadn’t introduced Spock to video imaging yet.
Several mental images assaulted him ensuring that he needed to stay at the table for a little longer than planned.
Several crew members were trying out tunes.
“I saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus,” sang Lieutenant Riley, very off key, until Lieutenant Bailey cuffed him over the head.
“Rudolph the red nosed reindeer,” sang another squashing a fake nose over his own.
There was a great deal of joking and planning going on.
Kirk thought for a moment, if he was to enter he needed to create a quality contribution not something comic or contrived. Something that was dignified, spiritual and reflective. Spock would not agree to anything else.
A young yeoman had triggered the touch screen to select a song. She stood with her eyes closed listening.
“I’m lovin’ Angels instead.”
Jim had his inspiration.
~&~
“Are you and the captain planning anything for the competition?” Sulu’s comment startled him; he had missed Spock’s arrival.
“We do not have any plans as yet.” Spock remarked.
We, Kirk thought, what makes you think I don’t have any plans?
“Yes, e do have and entry planned,” he stated.
He glanced at Spock, and holding his gaze for just a tad longer than necessary.
“Meet me in Rec Suite 3 after alpha shift tomorrow……..”
Refusal would not be an option.
Spock had his answer Kirk had understood the message.
~&~
Spock had not known what to expect when he met the captain for the next photography session; on on entering the studio he noted a distinct difference from the previous occasion. Most of the room was in dark shadow, with a central light suspended above an area of folded white sheeting, perhaps a snowscape or maybe, billowing clouds. The lighting was softer than the lighting that had been used for the portraiture session and there seemed to be a rotating colour filter attached to the main set light. From the set of steps in front of the sheet Spock surmised that Kirk aimed to take the images from above. He was correct Jim was standing on an elevated anti-grav platform adjusting a moving image recording unit above the main area he had assembled for the photo-shoot
“I thought we would depart a little for this experience, have you take on a different identity.” Jim explained.
“And what identity would you have me explore?” Spock asked somewhat warily, observing the costume bag that rested over a chair.
“Well, I thought I might challenge the link between your appearance and that of the, “Prince of Darkness.” Kirk grinned as he jumped down and handed Spock the bag.
Spock eyed the bag’s contents, his brows shot up. “I am not sure what useful experience dressing as an angelic being will provide…”
“Take off your shirt”
“I beg your pardon”
“Just do it.!”
Spock removed his shirt, and turned his back to the captain allowing Jim to fit the strips of adhesive to his back to hold the wings in place. He should have considered this activity illogical, yet he was compelled to participate.
The pressure of Kirk's hands down his spine was a revelation. Spock closed his eyes, was it to regain emotional control he told himself, or to more fully experience the effect of Jim’s touch. Too soon the hands were removed. Then something more disconcerting, Kirk’s hands running over his shoulders and across his pectoral muscles, grazing his nipples. His eyes widened in shock.
“Oil!” explained his photographer as he stepped back to admire his glistening handiwork.
He moved Spock to the lit area and subdued the lighting further creating a sea of light which fell onto the sheets as if his, “Angel” were in a moving cloud.
“Now to create the mood, computer play “Angel sequence one.”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODLS_A86Q9I
“What do you require me to do?”
“I want you to close your eyes Spock, just listen to the music."
Spock felt strangely vulnerable and exposed. The studio door was locked, there was no danger of being observed yet he was apprehensive. Spock looked at the floor, trying to steady himself; to look at Jim would be his undoing. Arms folded across his torso, as if to protect himself, he steadied himself for the next move, there would be no turning back, and this would change their relationship forever.
His mind was trying to urge care; his body was travelling inexorably in the opposite direction.
Jim set the suspended camera rolling, adjusting the image quality on the screen. The lighting cast a shadow on Spock’s chest which glistened with the oil he had applied. The taut protective stance emphasised the Vulcan’s muscle mass. From the angle he had chosen Spock’s ears were possible to spot only with the eye of faith. The image was breath-taking.
http://s1138.beta.photobucket.com/user/tprillahfiction/media/Lovin%20Angels%20Instead/InTheArboretumsmverFINALbytprillahfiction.jpg.html?sort=3&o=1#/user/tprillahfiction/media/Lovin%20Angels%20Instead/AngelSpocksmallverFINALbytprillahfiction.jpg.html?sort=3&o=2&_suid=135628265649105376114646956138
His ‘Angel’ chose that moment to look up
Eyes met
Spock grasped Kirk’s wrist, pulling him down from his precarious perch.
Jim fell
Literally and figuratively
Lips met, first tentatively and almost snowflake light against one another. Then like a blizzard the kisses fell repeatedly, covering every piece of exposed skin that could be found. Hands tore at clothing, whipping, ripping and scattering it around the floor. Tongues like ice and fire swirled, exploring every nook and cranny of the other‘s body. The need to merge to blend minds and bodies blurring all sense of time and space, overriding logic.
With Nyota there had been physical pleasure, with Jim there was a sense of belonging, of destiny: unquantifiable, undeniable, beyond all rational analysis.
Desperation for total merger drove Spock, he circled Jim’s hand as it wrapped around Kirk’s swelling organ, pumping in time with the stimulus Kirk was applying. His own erection extending and hardening with the visual stimulus of Jim’s face, lost to the sensations that were coursing through his body. Grasping at Kirk's body he pulled it towards him, w
"Take me!"
These would be the last coherent words he was able to utter for some time
The oil on Jim’s hands had turned his tanned cock into a bronzed sceptre which plunged into Spock as the man gripped Kirk’s torso pulling him further and deeper. It hurt, but Spock was overcome with the need to be possessed utterly. The pain of penetration was nothing compared with the ecstasy of mental union.
Words were not needed, Kirk thrust forward, hands grasped desperately at Spock, tearing at him, head , shoulders , wings: Feathers flew, two pairs of limbs entwined with whatever they could gain purchase against to pull their bodies closer. Tighter, harder with greater and greater desperation to know and be known fully they drove together. As hot hands pressed his face, Jim sensed Spock’s mind mergin into his own mirroring his penetration of Spock’s body. He was overwhelmed with the sensation, the wonder and incredulity that Spock was experiencing, the powerful waves of lust that had taken over the Vulcan’s mind.
To know that he, Jim Kirk, the author of this tidal wave of feeling had an effect like no aphrodisiac Kirk had ever encountered.
“Imirrhlhhse!" Spock cried out.
The effect was instantaneous; Jim’s orgasm rose as they drove together. The snow blanket bled red about them, as the lighting synchronised with their passion. His release came as Spock's body convulsed drawing Jim tighter within, an internal and external anointing became the physical evidence of their mental union. Passion subsided as a pool of green light played over them, the cameraman softening yet still submerged in his subject’s body.
The wings lay fractured, a pile of white feathers surrounding them.
The presence of Spock’s mind retreated from Jim’s as their bodies moved apart. Both incredulous, hardly daring to give voice what they had just experienced. No previous encounter could compare this was transcendent. Neither wishing to move they lay as if in a cloud, the photographic strobe lighting their bodies in a kaleidoscope of changing colours. Eventually they had to rise, Kirk stood first, proffering a hand to lift Spock from the floor and the pile of broken feathers
“I believe I might now be considered a fallen angel” Spock stated.
“Enticed by the Devil,” smirked Jim
~&~
Nyota Uhura nursed a glass of warm punch as she looked over the Art exhibition entries, there was no doubt that Kirk’s entry for the Art competition, a rendition of Spock as an angel, had provoked a great deal of discussion. Uhura kept her opinion to herself, she had lost Spock, not as she had mistakenly assumed, to a Vulcan female, but to a genius level Iowa farm boy instead.
http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/awarrington/19087211/52474/52474_original.jpg
