The BLTS Archive - Mountain Fever by T'Aaneli (t_aaneli@hotmail.com) --- Archive: ASC/EM OK. Anywhere else please ask. Feedback: Please oh please! Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek, the boys and everything else. I only borrowed them for a few hours. --- It hadn't stopped raining since last night. The puddle outside the cabin door was threatening to start sloshing over the shallow door jamb. For the amount of money he was paying for this cabin, he would have thought that at the very least there would be no flooding worries. So much for taking Bones up on his recommendations again. But, even he had to admit, the serenity of the cabin was soothing his soul in a fashion he hadn't quite expected. He had arrived a week ago. With a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, he had packed the minimum amount of material goods that he could get away. Sure, it meant doing laundry by hand, and re-reading 'The Order of Chaos' four times; but that was part of the appeal which had finally won him over. That pure simplicity which lacked in his everyday existence as a starship captain. He had to admit that the cabin had been amazingly well stocked. Almost as if somebody had given the staff a list of all Captain James. T. Kirk's favourite meals, music et al. There was even a guitar in the corner when he arrived. Not that he planned to start playing anytime soon and inflicting his amateurish musical attempts on anybody--let alone any innocent wildlife he might encounter over the next two weeks. Two weeks. At first he had scoffed at Bones' suggestion that he spend two weeks on shore leave; as if he could afford to disappear for two weeks. But given time, the good doctor had a way of convincing almost anybody. Of course the threat to send him home to his mother for a three week stay had been somewhat persuasive--especially after he received his mother's latest diatribe about the plight of her neighbours and how that lovely young bio-geneticist next door had come back from her sabbatical on Ajtar and wasn't she just so lovely. Oh no. He wasn’t going to fall victim to his mother's latest attempt at matchmaking. He loved her dearly, but a few days was all he could manage by himself. Of course if Spock had agreed to come with him, as he had pleaded, virtually begged, he would have reconsidered it. But not by himself. And until he brought Spock home with him, he knew his mother wouldn't give up on her matchmaking attempts. Despite all of his references to Spock, Jim knew his mother needed to see something before she would finally believe it. So, off it was into the Rockies on Earth. The balance of the week had gone by far more quickly that he had expected. But, he was most definitely looking forward to Spock's arrival--especially as he eyed the bottle of sandalwood oil he had purchased in San Francisco. He sat on the porch at the rear of the cabin, a cup of tea warming his hands at he stared at the vista in front of him. Even through the rain which continued to shroud the valley, there was a serene, awe inspiring elegance to it all. He knew Spock would approve. Jim could hear the fire crackling inside the cabin through the door. He had stoked it up in anticipation of Spock's arrival; he knew how much his Vulcan disliked being cold and wet. Just as the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a smile at the thought of water dripping off Spock's lustrous black hair, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the cabin. He was up, back in the cabin, and at the door before the steps even reached the doorway. He opened the door, and stopped, smiling despite his best efforts not to do so, at the sight of his beloved mate, bearing a remarkable resemblance to the proverbial drowned cat. The dourness of Spock's thoughts shot across their bond. Jim smiled even more broadly as he stepped backwards, allowing Spock to enter the room. The thought was laced with accusation. Jim grinning; there'd be time for retorts later. Right now, he was happy, simply happy to have Spock here. A week had been far too long to be apart as he watched Spock divest himself of his own duffel bag and shed his drenched coat. . He saw Spock turn towards him. Each felt the same longing and relief ripple across the bond as they looked at one another. Jim took the few steps which separated him from Spock and stopped directly in front of him. He reached out with two fingers in response to Spock's own hand which had stretched out in greeting. That first touch. . . Jim felt all of his passion and lonelineness returning in full force, buffeting against him. "Spock. . . " No further words passed between them as Spock moved forwards, capturing his mate in his arms. Steel arms locked around Jim, as Jim's own arms wrapped around Spock's neck. Each sought the other's lips, hot coals upon cool water, as if in one kiss each could satisfy the longing and desire which consumed the other. Spock's hands travelled the expanse of Jim's back, caressing, kneading, loving the smooth flow of skin and muscle underneath the soft flannel shirt. Jim's hands stroked across Spock's shoulders, gliding down his rib cage and wrapping themselves around his waist, drawing Spock in closer, ever closer. --- Jim felt Spock's lips wander away, searching for the hollow of his neck. A brand of fiery kisses urged Jim to extend his neck backwards, exposing the smooth lines of his throat to Spock. He heard a low groan, was it his or Spock's, he couldn't tell anymore. He was losing himself in the fire which ignited at the slightest of touches between them. He felt himself being lifted, carried forwards and felt the softness of the bed as Spock lay him down. He could feel fingers, undoing the buttons of his shirt, stopping as they came to his t-shirt. For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of the rain, the snapping of the fire as a wetter log burst into flame, then he heard Spock's breathing, ragged and heavy. He opened his eyes and caught himself drowning . . . drowning in the depths of the desire he saw laid openly before him. Jim reached upwards and pulled the unresisting body towards him. He embraced him, simply luxuriating in the warmth and feel of the body next to his own. But even as he held him tight, he could feel the heat building, the desire barely banked. With a twist, he shifted Spock effortlessly so that now he was looking down into his lover's eyes. He ran two fingers down Spock's face, tracing the sharp line of his chin, replacing the fingers with his lips for a second caress. He reached downwards, pulling Spock's shirt outwards, running his hand underneath the dark green wool. Leisurely, his fingers encountered first one nipple, then the second; hard little points, silently begging to be massaged. All the while Jim continued his trail of kisses along Spock's face, his delicately tipped ears, that irresistible hollow at the base of his neck. He felt his lover's hands sliding his flannel shirt off his shoulders, then pulling at his t-shirt. He leaned back for a moment to allow Spock to pull it over his head. As the cooler air in the cabin washed over his skin, he shivered and suddenly through the bond, felt Spock's concern. Jim reassured him, as he returned to those deliciously hot lips, waiting to be kissed. He felt Spock's hands stroking along his spine, leaving a whisper of fire which seeped through his skin, warming him to the core of his essence. As he tightened his arms around his lover, he felt Spock stiffen. "Jim. There is someone at the door." Just as Spock's words registered in his consciousness, Jim heard the knock. "Gentlemen. If you're decent in there, how about letting a poor old country doctor in from the rain." Jim collapsed into the shelter of Spock's arms, and groaned in despair. "Spock. Would it be cruel to keep him outside for an hour or so?" He waited for a moment, knowing Spock was actually thinking about the possible repercussions of doing so, but sighed in agreement as he listened to Spock's conclusion. "It would not be cruel on our part to keep the good doctor waiting as he is fully cognizant of the likely situation in this room. However, in the event we did keep him waiting, it is quite possible that he would contract pneumonia or some other similar malady. Due to our remote location, and knowing the doctor's lack of enthusiasm in trusting any medical facilities except for those aboard the _Enterprise_, it is probable that the remainder of our shore leave would be engaged in attending to Dr. McCoy. Such is not an attractive proposition. Accordingly, I believe it is in our best interests to let the "poor old country doctor" in." At the thought of Spock spoon feeding chicken soup to Bones, Jim couldn't help but grin. That would almost be worth incurring Bone's wrath. As Jim and Spock disentangled themselves, Jim yelled out across the room. "Bones. Give us a minute. But you better have a good explanation for this." As Spock tucked his shirt back in, Jim drew on his t-shirt and reached for his flannel shirt. With a regretful look at Spock, he shrugged himself back into the flannel. "Well, shall we see to our guest?" With a slight tilt of his head, Spock acknowledged Jim's request and headed towards the door, Vulcan mask firmly in place. As he opened the door, a gust of wind accompanied by rain pushed their guest through the entrance. "Well that took long enough. Were you both naked or what? Nah--I don't want to know the answer to that question. You'd haunt my nightmares for the rest of shoreleave." McCoy dropped his bags around his feet and pushed down his slicker hood. "Well, aren't you happy to see me?" His eyes sparkled as he looked first at Spock's dour face and then at the amused grin on Jim's. "Bones. The last time we spoke, you reassured me that you were getting your own cabin and that you would entertain yourself upon arrival until dinner tonight. Unless every clock in this cabin is wrong, it is not dinnertime." Jim's words contained a subtle challenge. Although he loved his friend dearly, there were times when Bones simply went too far, and this was verging on one of those times. Humour was one thing. Annoying was another. Taking his coat off, Bones looked at both of them sheepishly. "I know. I truly apologize for having to come and be a bother. And yes, I do have my own cabin--well I will have by tomorrow. They tell me they're having a little problem with the plumbing in the cabin--actually it's more like a flood in the cabin. But--" McCoy raised his hand in a placating gesture in response to the looks of both men. "They reassure me that the cabin will fixed and cleaned up, ready for me by tomorrow morning. And. . . as they don't have any other empty cabins. . . I was kind of hoping that you wouldn't mind terribly if I bunked here tonight? Just one night--I promise. Please?" Laying on all of his southern charm he looked up at both of them, looking as pathetic as he could muster in the circumstances. "All right. One night--but only one night. If your cabin isn't ready by tomorrow, you're going back on the next flyer. Understood, Doctor?" "Thanks gentlemen. I knew I could count on you." He reached to hang up his coat. "So, what's for dinner?" "Jim and I have agreed that we shall leave tonight's meal in your capable hands Doctor. I trust you will find everything you require in the kitchen. In the duration, we have a game of chess to play." As Bones turned around, ready to protest, he saw Spock and Jim heading towards the deck at the rear of the cabin, the slender Vulcan leading the way, a portable chess set in one hand, the other hand resting lightly on Jim's arm. Bones smiled. Dinner it was. Hmmm. . . he wondered if there was any cayenne in the kitchen. Nobody said dinner had to be boring. --- The End