The BLTS Archive- Between Earth And Sky

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ARCHIVE: YES, PLEASE

SERIES/SEQUEL: SECOND IN A SERIES OF STORIES ABOUT THIS RELATIONSHIP
(The first story was "The First Date," recently posted here.)

DISCLAIMERS: STAR TREK IS THE PROPERTY OF PARAMOUNT. I KNOW THAT.
EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT. I WISH I DIDN'T HAVE TO WASTE BANDWIDTH POINTING
IT OUT, BUT THERE YOU GO. THIS STORY WAS WRITTEN FOR FUN. I'M SURE
PARAMOUNT DOESN'T WANT IT.

NOTES: MY THANKS TO BETA READERS FANNY, DELTA V AND LENE T.

All feedback is welcome, but remember - flames will go on your 
permanent record and keep you from ever achieving anything 
meaningful.

(c) 2001

---

When Jim first saw me in my leather suit, I do believe it took his
breath away. The suit isn't sleek or shiny (that looks so cheap);
there are no metal studs (too obvious); no antique biker's cap
shadowing my face (cheap *and* obvious) and no chains swinging from
worn epaulets because...Well, anyone who needs all that to make her
point should just turn in her riding crop and take up knitting.

It *is* black, but it's soft and supple and the pants hug my legs just
so. When I turn up the collar on the sleeveless vest, it  adds a
satisfying frame to the chiaroscuro of my makeup. Pale skin, dark
eyes, darker lips, and my light coppery hair pulled  back in a twist
and nearly unnoticeable. I knew that as the evening wore on, the look
of severity would be diminished by  strands of hair slipping free.
I've heard several interpretations of that image. An incongruous
softness? Perhaps. An air of  weariness from efforts expended? Yes,
that could be. A combination of both? That's the one I prefer.

I had considered wearing my hair loose, which would make me look as if
I'd just been tumbled in exactly the way Jim wanted to tumble me, but
as I stood in front of the mirror, looping the last of the leather
strings that closed the vest, I saw Jim watching me and I knew he
needed no reminder of what he wanted. The tumbling, yes of course, but
he also wanted everything else  the suit represented. He came up
behind me, pulled back my collar and pressed his mouth to the nape of
my neck. I'd made him stop wearing aftershave and the acrid scent of
his arousal was blunt and true as it surrounded us in a pure funk of
desire. I felt his rising erection pressing against my ass, seeking a
home between my cheeks, and I resisted the urge to fall back against
him.

"You'll have to wait, darling," I said as I moved away. "We're going
out, remember? Now let me look at you. No, in the mirror. I want to
see your face as you watch yourself."

I stood behind him and kissed him just as he'd kissed me, glad that my
stiletto heels allowed me to do that effortlessly. I'd  found that
those five inches could level many a playing field, both vertical and
horizontal.

"Are you pleased with the way you look?" I asked. "You should be."

We both stared at the outline of his hard-on resisting the confinement
of his trousers.

"You most definitely should be."

I moved to the side so that I was out of the reflection. Now there was
no one in the mirror but him and he couldn't tear his  eyes away. To
be honest, neither could I.

"Look at yourself," I said, "and memorize what you see. Tonight while
we're out, I want you to think about this. When people are looking at
you, I want you to know what it is they see."

Together, we studied the way the tank top stretched across his chest
and how beautifully the bronze of his underarm hair  contrasted with
the black fabric. The neckhole plunged to mid-chest and his nipples
strained forward as if trying to push  aside the soft weave that
barely held them in check. I pointed out that his shirt was just long
enough to tuck into his pants.  Eventually, it would slip free, a
teasing invitation to whomever wished to remove it. And if one gave in
to the temptation to do  so, one would see that the deep tan on his
arms and shoulders didn't stop there but continued downward over his
stomach. And then perhaps one would want to see if it went even lower.
I told him that was the sort of question that could drive one mad if
it went unanswered. Especially if one happened to be staring at the
front of his pants and noticing the two seams that ran diagonally from
his belt loops into his crotch. The left one traced a prominent path
along the length of his erection.

"Remember this," I whispered. "No matter what happens tonight,
remember how happy it makes me to see you like this and to know that
you do this, as you do everything, to please me."

---

Ever since San Francisco banned the use of non-emergency air transport
within the city limits, the streets have been clogged  with
ground-crawlers. And never was that name more appropriate than on a
Saturday night. As we stepped out onto the street, I was glad of the
noise and the closeness of the stream of vehicles. It made the city
seem more like itself, rough-edged and  untamed despite the veneer of
civilization. As we stood curbside looking for an available taxi, I
thought about those little cars  cruising past us. Self-driven and
equipped with autolocators and bumper sensors, each was a world unto
itself. The safety and  privacy features ensured that there would be
no reason to leave the vehicle before the end of journey and that
whatever occurred within would occur uninterrupted. Freedom within
confinement and without consequences. I laughed out loud at the
thought and when Jim gave me a questioning look, I said, "The cars are
like safe words, aren't they?"

Before I could explain, a taxi zipped over to where we stood and the
door opened. As we settled in, I saw that it was an older  model. The
seats were worn, the clearsteel windows were discolored and the
locator hung loosely from its connectors.

I told Jim the destination code and he gave me a puzzled frown. He'd
been aboard the Enterprise two years ago when the North American
geocodes were revamped, and although a "local" would probably have
understood our itinerary, Jim hadn't been on earth long enough to
assimilate the prefixes beyond San Francisco proper.

"Where--?" he started.

The stiff, uneven cushion crackled as I sat back. Realizing he'd get
no information from me, he turned to the locator. After  several
failed attempts at communicating with it, he tightened the connectors
and shoved the unit back into its slot. As I  listened to him give the
order in a tone of voice that even a machine had to take seriously, I
reached into the small inner  pocket of my vest and fingered the few
essentials I'd stored there.

"Understood," the locator finally chirped. "Estimated duration of
journey: sixteen minutes to--"

I moved quickly to hit the mute button. Jim smiled indulgently, as if
to say, "All right, have your secret."

Sometimes I think he forgets who I am.

After a few minutes, we reached the city limits where the cab lifted
into the air and swung out over the ocean. Now that we  were away from
the noise of traffic, I opened the windows. Closing my eyes, I rested
my head against the back of the seat  but I enjoyed the wind against
my face for only a moment when I felt Jim moving toward me. His mouth
was nearly touching mine when I stopped him by dropping my hand onto
his thigh and saying, "Tell me about your first blow job."

After a surprised moment, he chuckled softly and said, "My first blow
job. All right."

Still indulging me. How funny, I thought. And misguided.

"It was at the Academy--"

"Really? None of those sweet little girls back home came through?"

"Grace Cleary kissed it once, but that was it."

"I'd think all those stalks of corn would inspire them."

He laughed. "I wouldn't want someone to eat my cock the way they do
corn on the cob."

"No?"

"No," he said, dead serious.

I filed that information away for future exploration. "So you were at
the Academy and..."

He was silent for a moment and as I watched his face, I was glad that
the most of cab's interior lamps had long since given up the ghost.
The silver-blue light, the hushed whir of the engine that sounded more
like wings than mechanization, the stars our only companions along an
air route that few would travel at this hour... Soaring between earth
and sky, I watched and listened as Jim remembered a younger self who
had almost certainly believed that he was about to shed the last of
his innocence.

"I'd only been there a short time, six weeks at the most. I was in my
room studying. There was a soft knock at the door. I  remember
thinking how odd that was but I looked at the chron and saw that it
was nearly midnight. I figured whoever was there was being
considerate--the door calls could be heard all up and down the hall. I
went to the door--it was old and needed a shove to fully open. It was
Vivien Watley. She was two years ahead of me. She was the orientation
adviser to my section but we hadn't had much contact and no one really
needed that sort of guidance after the first couple of weeks. She
was...well, she was gorgeous. She was tall and curvy with dark hair
and unusual eyes--they were the palest blue I'd ever seen."

I loved the way he was telling it, as though I had no knowledge of
Starfleet Academy or Commander Watley. I knew that every detail took
him further into the memory and I promised myself that I wouldn't
interrupt him, no matter what.

"She came in and said, 'How's it going, Kirk?' I said, 'Fine,' and
then she just wandered around the room for a while. It felt a  little
bit like an inspection. She commented on the books and data chips I'd
piled on the top bunk and we talked for a minute  about my roommate
who had dropped out after two weeks. She sat down on the lower bunk
and said, 'Would you like a blowjob?' Just like that, straight out of
the blue. I was so startled that it took me a moment to get my
bearings. I finally said, 'From you?' She laughed and said, 'No, from
Professor Gill. Of course from me.' 'Well, yes, I think I'd like that
a lot,' I said. I couldn't believe we were talking about it in such a
routine way but at that point, the conversation stopped. She pulled me
to her and opened my pants. I was already hard and I remember my cock
pushing the front of my shorts out through my fly."

His hand was on top of mine, his fingers curling into the crooks of
mine and squeezing slowly, over and over.

"She pushed my shorts down--I can still remember her hands moving down
my hips. No girl had ever done that before. I always had to make the
moves. She moistened her lips and moved toward me very slowly. Her
mouth was open and I could see a little of her tongue. I remember
wondering if I should close my eyes. I thought it might be considered
rude to watch. I decided I was damned if I was going to miss seeing
this and hoped she would forgive any mistakes and chalk them up to my
inexperience. When she was less than an inch away, she began licking
my cock, lifting it with her tongue and then pulling back. She did
that several times and my cock jumped each time, following her
tongue." He laughed softly. "It reminded me of training a dog, the way
you get him to follow food to do what you want."

I moved my hand a little lower and began running my fingernails along
his right inseam. His hand went with mine, trying to nudge me over to
the left, but I was having none of that.

"She began using more of her tongue, lapping my cock with the rough
part and then finishing off with the smooth tip. I made  some sound
and that was like a release of some kind. I felt as if I was going to
come very soon and I tried not to think about  that. My knees were
shaking and I held onto the upper bunk for support. I was glad it was
there, because even though it was my first time, I knew better than to
grab her by the hair."

I turned my hand and began rubbing his palm with my thumb. He closed
his hand over it and then I could only make small circles but that was
all right. His hand was clenched so tightly around mine that it felt
like a hot, damp thumb-fuck.

"Finally she began sucking. I was desperate to hang on and I still
don't know how I managed. She pushed my legs apart and  began rolling
my balls in her hand. I closed my eyes and prayed for control. She
took more of my cock into her mouth and curled her tongue around it.
As she moved forward, I realized she was going to throat it so I
opened my eyes and watched my cock disappear between her lips. She
moved her head back and forth and I remember thinking, 'I'm fucking
her face!' But I wasn't; she was swallowing me over and over. I didn't
want to come in her mouth--well, I *did* but I didn't think I
should--so I tried to pull back. I guess she thought I was thrusting
because she put her hands on my hips and held me still. I could hardly
breathe and my voice sounded desperate when I said, 'Watley, stop! I'm
going to come!' She pulled back, wiped her mouth and said, 'So what's
stopping you?'"

His words were tumbling out as he was clutched my hand and pressed it
against his thigh.

"Then everything happened at once. She took the head into her mouth
and sucked hard while her hand squeezed the shaft. Then I felt her
finger stroking my asshole. No one had ever done that before and I
lost it. I remember her hand jerking me off while she sucked it up."

Slowly his hand unclenched, releasing mine. I gave his forearm a long
slow stroke and when my fingers were once again resting  against his,
he continued.

"She didn't swallow. As soon as I was finished, she went into the head
and I heard the water running. I stood there, hanging onto the top
bunk, gasping for air and feeling like my heart was going to punch its
way right out of my chest. Finally, I got undressed and sat on my
bunk. I thought she would come out naked, expecting me to return the
favor. That was fine with me and I figured that, with any luck, I'd be
hard again before she was finished so I'd get a good fuck in the
bargain."

I smiled. Some things never change.

"But when she came out, she was fully clothed and sort of patting her
hair into place. I stood up but before I could speak, she  patted me
on the ass and said, 'Sweet dreams.' Then she left. I didn't know what
to think. When I saw her in the mess hall the  next morning, I asked
if I could take her out. Even when I said it, I knew I sounded like a
jerk. She said, 'I don't date plebes,' and that was the end of it.
About a year later, I found out that she collected men that way. One
hit and it was over."

"Interesting," I said. "I collect, too, but I usually keep mine, at
least for a while."

He pounced on me. There's no other word for it. "You're going to keep
me," he growled. "There's no way I'm going  to let you throw me back."

God, I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to tear off my clothes and let him
pound me into pulp. I wanted his cock inside me, banging me with every
ounce of strength he possesses. But that wasn't in the plan, so I
pushed him away and said, "I forgot something."

He looked stunned, as though he'd just been hit over the head. "What?"

"I forgot to do something back at the apartment."

"Can't it wait?"

"No."

His eyes had gone steely and I knew he was furious with me for
shutting him down. He leaned forward, intending to redirect the cab. I
put my hand on his shoulder.

"I can take care of it here."

He turned and frowned at me, his mouth set in a hard line.

"Over here," I said, patting my knee.

He didn't move. I waited, thinking how much I love him for that
reaction. It's always a decision for him, a conscious effort. He 
isn't one of those weaklings who crawl after you, whining to be
ordered around. Submission doesn't come naturally to him, no  matter
how much he wants what it will give him. Of course, I didn't wait too
long. That would defeat the whole purpose. It's  not really his
decision to make.

"That's ten," I said.

Oh, if looks could kill...

"Are you trying for twenty? Because you've just earned them."

I saw the muscle pulsing in his jaw. I began counting slowly.

"Twenty-five. Thirty. Thir--"

He opened his pants, pushed them down to his thighs and lay down
across my lap.

"I owe you thirty. Don't let me forget," I said as I reached into the
inner pocket of my vest and removed a small tube of lubricant and a
butt plug.

---

I set the butt plug on the seat and studied his ass as I held the
lubricant, cap end up. He was very still and he didn't even move  when
I parted his cheeks. His asshole was puckered tightly and I clicked my
tongue, more at myself than at him. I could see that I hadn't given
him enough of a workout in that area. In the four weeks we'd been
together, I'd made him wear a butt plug for an extended period of time
on only three occasions, twice to work and once when his mother was in
town. I suppose that was a bit mean but if I'm going to get up early
to go to church, I'm going to have some fun with it.

I'd gone easy with the strap-on, too, using a very modest dildo. I
knew I'd change that in due time, but I was pleased with the  choice
I'd made for this night. The butt plug was slightly more than an inch
in diameter at its widest point, more than he'd had  but not as much
as he would eventually become used to. It wasn't particularly sleek or
elegant. In fact it was almost snub-nosed, but at least it was black,
although I was careful not to let him see it. I guess the color was
more for me.

His cheeks pressed against my hands, trying to close, and his asshole
winked at me. I winked back, released his cheeks, and  took the cap
off the lubricant. I'd held it up long enough for all the lube to run
to the bottom, leaving plenty of air at the  top, so when I squeezed
it out onto my fingertips, it gave a good *splat*. He inhaled sharply
and I said, "Keep breathing, darling. Don't anticipate me."

He let the air out slowly and I felt his stomach muscles tighten
against my leg. I looked at the taxi's chron as I spread the goop 
over the plug. Nearly five minutes to arrival. A nice little chunk of
time for our activities.

I parted his cheeks again and tickled his anus with the tip of the
plug. His head came up a little and I pictured the expression  on his
face. I'd seen it before when we'd done this with mirrors set so I
could watch his reactions. Eyes turned upward, blinking slowly, his
mouth open and silent until I pushed the plug in a little. The choked
grunt of acknowledgment spoke volumes. He's  very sensitive
there--well, who isn't? But he resists anything more than gentle play.
It's part of why I've held back on really  stretching him or
penetrating him fully. Not out of some misplaced sympathy that would
do neither of us any good, but  because I know the value of keeping
him off-balance. It was going to be quite a little shock to him when I
pushed the stout probe all the way in and it would be an even bigger
shock when he took more the next night. I'd moved slowly long enough
and now it was time to enter the big leagues.

I began moving the plug in small circles. He clenched his fists at the
back of his neck as his hips moved in delicious  resistance. Head to
toe, he was wire-tight, except for the quivering hole I was plumbing.

---

A few minutes later, he was squirming in unwilling pleasure. I tilted
the plug and gave it a slow turn to work the sweet spot  and...

"Yes!"

...unwillingness was no longer a part of the equation.

At that moment, the cab began its descent and he said my name, his
voice now filled with a different urgency. Didn't he know I  could see
both the chronometer and the altimeter? I wasn't about to display him
bare-assed and well-stuffed as soon as we set  down. That would come
soon enough.

Keeping an eye on the instruments, I brought him to the point where he
wouldn't have wanted me to let up even if the Federation Council had
been watching. I stopped at precisely fifteen meters. He sat up and
recomposed himself and I knew that each movement caused the plug to
re-establish its presence. My presence.

He had just finished zipping up when we touched down. As the cab
settled on the uneven ground, I pulled his face close to mine and
kissed him deeply, not stopping until the meter pinged impatiently.

"Take care of that, will you, darling?" I said as I stepped out into
the fog.

I moved away from the cab and closed my eyes. Although there was
little to be seen through the shifting mists, any vision would have
interfered with what I wanted from the moment. I stood very still,
listening to the ocean throw itself against the shore.  Despite its
proximity, the pounding was muted to a rhythmic sighing. I inhaled the
cold air and held it, savoring its bouquet as one does a fine wine
before taking the first sip. Finally, lurking beneath the heady
mingling of earth and sea, I found the flavor I sought. Bittersweet to
the point of stinging, it tasted like nothing else on earth and it
disappeared before I could fully experience it.

I heard the cab lift off and I reached behind me, knowing Jim would be
there. I took his hand and led him down the rocky beach toward a
blue-green light that was struggling to be seen. We said nothing until
we reached the old lighthouse. It had been decades since it had warned
ships away from the dangerous shore, yet it was still a beacon of
sorts, now drawing a select company to gather under its long-darkened
lamp.

I saw him take in the details of the situation with a quick glance. I
imagined him as both commander and subordinate,  requesting and
receiving a status report.

*A remote location, sir, quite literally at the end of the earth, a
solitary light above a worn oak door, a brass handle in the  shape of
a hawthorn tree.*

As I wondered if he was aware of the meaning of those things, he
turned his gaze on me. I recognized the look and was glad that it was
his own, not something that he had learned by mimicking me.

*And a woman, sir, who refuses to explain any of it.*

"You'll call me 'Mistress' from here on," I said, "but the people
inside know me as Celie."

"And who am I?" he asked.

"Be patient, my love. That's what we're here to find out."

Dangers, possibilities, probabilities, contingencies, risk,
consequences, gain, loss...The list went on and on, and he evaluated
them all in the space of one breath.

He gripped the handle and pulled the door open. As I stepped across
the threshold, I realized it didn't matter if he was  conscious of the
old myths and their modern permutations. Regardless of the trappings,
certain tales resonate in the soul  of every human being.

I began ascending the winding staircase. The door swung shut with a
resounding thud and when I turned back, I saw Jim at the bottom of the
stairs looking curious and wary but not startled. I was aware once
more that although the unknown might cause his heartbeat to quicken,
all that he'd seen and done in the past five years had built a wall
around the most human part of  himself.

Now that the door was closed, I could feel the heat moving down the
stairs toward us. He would feel it soon, even if he stayed  where he
was.

I held out my hand and asked, "Will you?"

I waited, feeling we were in a play or better yet, a painting. I saw
the light filtering down from above and the shadows of the  open
staircase covering the floor and walls with a mad geometry. I saw
myself, my hand lifted in an ambiguous invitation, and I  saw Jim
wondering why it wasn't an order. I saw light and dark playing around
us as we waited for his decision, both knowing  what it would be, yet
lingering in that moment that was neither past nor future.

There was a sudden burst of laughter and applause from above. I turned
and continued up the stairs, knowing Jim was no more than two steps
behind me.

---

The End