The BLTS Archive- Ice Cream by Isla (Islaofhope@aol.com) --- This is my first fan fic. My thanks to Kaki4, Istannor, and T'Pat for looking it over so that it's a better offering. The mistakes that remain are mine. Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters all belong to Paramount, Viacom, and Rick Berman. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little shore leave. This is fan fiction. I won't make any money from it. In fact, it's getting in the way of my gainful employment. . . --- I waited for my Captain in the anteroom of the Starbase Commander's office. I had waited this way for him many times. To be the first to find out what our next mission was going to be, to verify our ability to receive the Starbase services that we required, and -- on more than one occasion -to determine whether he was facing disciplinary actions for violation of regulations. Waiting just outside the door was not actually necessary. For most of the time that I have been his first officer, I have been the first one to which he has turned with such information. At one time, I thought that it was mere curiosity that drove me to be "there" as soon as he came out of a meeting with a superior officer. Later, I told myself that he required my steadying influence in case the news was bad. Finally, I admitted to myself that I waited for him because I was impatient to see his face, to hear his voice, feel his touch on my skin. Today was no exception. This meeting with Commodore Mendez was unlikely to produce any surprises. Our recent missions had been routine -- what Jim referred to as "milk runs" -- broken up by star charting in a new sector. The Enterprise had put into Starbase 17 for resupply and a minor upgrade to the warp engines. In the week that we were to remain at the Starbase, I was participating in a scientific conference. It was fortuitous that the conference was scheduled here. I would not be required to travel to another star system. My evenings would most likely be engaged in social activities that Terrans referred to as networking -- interacting with other scientists is most instructive. But I preferred to spend my nights in other ways. Before leaving the ship earlier this afternoon, I had fulfilled all of the duties required of me as First Officer and Science Officer of the Enterprise. I was "officially" on shore leave. Duty did not require me to be here, but, as I have already said, it was not duty that drew me here. I stood by the window, surveying the steady flow of beings that walked the streets outside. I was aware that the Commander's administrative assistant watched me. I was aware that she found my form pleasing. Until a year ago, I would not have noticed her admiring eyes. Until a year ago, I did not consider myself a sexual being, so it would not have occurred to me that another would desire me. I was, of course, not attracted to this unknown woman but the awareness of her desire was an interesting experience. The Commander's door opened, and my Captain walked out. He took his leave of the assistant with a nod and a smile, and then he turned his attention to me. His eyes lit up with pleasure, and he said, "Hey, first officer, I thought you signed out for a week of shore leave." "Surely, Captain, how I choose to spend my shore leave is my own concern," I responded. He smiled at that. "How did your meeting go?" I had passed my afternoon with a scientist with whom I had been corresponding. We had both been working on similar papers in the field of temporal physics. When I discovered that she would be attending the scientific conference, I had set up a meeting for this afternoon, our first afternoon at Starbase 17. "Most interesting," I responded. "I am certain that additional discussion would be beneficial. Her last research paper was quite lucid." "I understand that she's not hard to look at either," he responded with a grin. As I fell into step beside him, I realized that security in our alliance allowed Jim to enjoy teasing me about attractive women. "That would be more your field of expertise, would it not, sir?" I responded. I was equally guilty of teasing him about women. I felt a very unVulcan pride in knowing that he preferred me to any other, which belied his reputation for success with women. It was an intriguing game that we played. One of the many "games" that we played. My Captain - my lover -- was an extremely creative individual. Initially, I had gone along with the "games" as way of offering him variety within our relationship, believing that he would miss the variety that he had experienced when he was free to pursue "a woman in every port." After a time, I found that the "games" also enhanced my own enjoyment of what we were to each other. He led me into a refreshment courtyard, and we sat down across from each other. Jim touched me on the wrist, and he smiled into my eyes. It was as though he had kissed me lightly. Then he drew his hand away. His fingers had been cool because his body temperature was naturally lower than mine. But I could still feel the echo of his touch, a sensation of heat that seemed to flow from my wrist to my groin. I remembered when the Dohlman, Elaan, had left her tears on his hand. Those tears temporarily "infected" him with an almost uncontrollable attraction to her. When Dr. McCoy and I had confronted him in her quarters, he looked down at his hand guiltily. He told me later that he could feel the heat for many days after. I was permanently "infected" by him, but his "love potion" was his intellect and his indomitable spirit. And perhaps his eyes... His personnel records listed his eye color as hazel, but, in truth, his eyes had as many colors as he had moods. Now they were somewhere between blue and green, recalling a lake on Terra where we had once kayaked together. My mind automatically identified the lake as Moraine Lake in Baniff National Park, Province of Alberta, in an area that was formerly the independent country of Canada. An extraordinarily beautiful lake, but excessively cold. Jim's eyes were extraordinarily beautiful, too, but they were very warm. As he keyed in an order for two mineral waters, he said, "Did you ask her if she was free this evening?" It took me a moment to realize that he was suggesting that I spend the evening with Dr. McFadden. "You would not mind?" I had been tempted by the thought of continuing our discussion, but I was reluctant to give up an evening with Jim. "Of course not, Spock. Bones was hinting around about hitting a few of the local bars tonight -- he and I have had some wild times here before." He handed one of the drinks to me, and brought the other to his lips. I accepted my drink with a nod. "The Doctor would like you to go along with him -- to act as bait, I would assume." And a time apart made the time we had together sweeter. It was not logical. But much of what we shared together was not logical. Jim laughed. "C'mon, Spock. I'm sure that McCoy doesn't need my help getting into trouble. I just thought if you had other plans for the evening. . . " He bestowed on me an affectionate smile. "Maybe you and I can hook up later." "That would be acceptable." "Okay, I'll just see you back on the ship. Say about 2300 hours?" "Perhaps I will join you and the Doctor for a drink in one of these bars that you remember so fondly?" I offered. I fantasized briefly about walking into a bar and "taking him away" from a beautiful woman whom had caught his eye for a short time. Jim raises his eyebrows in surprise. I wondered whether he had read the scenario that I had created in my mind. Or if he was pleased by the idea of the three of us - Leonard McCoy and ourselves -- having a drink together. McCoy and I had an uneasy friendship -- we were united in our desire to protect our Captain from the dangers to which he insisted on exposing himself. But there were not many other areas on which we agreed. "Why not? Let's say "The Blue Unicorn" at 2300 hours. Do you need directions?" "I'm sure that I can find it. Have an enjoyable evening, Captain." I heard him whisper in my mind as we parted. I sent him a teasing response of . --- My evening with Dr. Tara McFadden was very stimulating intellectually. Dr. McFadden, a dark-haired Terran woman, was a leading authority on temporal physics. She had been surprised when I came back to the office that she was borrowing to ask her to join me for dinner. The restaurant that I took her to was one that Lieutenant Uhura, our communications officer, had recommended on our last trip to this Starbase. Unfortunately, it was considered the most romantic restaurant on the Starbase, and it was possible that Dr. McFadden misunderstood my interest in her. As a result, although our evening had been pleasant, she was clearly displeased with me when I walked her back to her hotel at 2200 hours. Promptly at 2300 hours, I walked into "The Blue Unicorn." I saw McCoy at a table in the middle of the bar talking with a blond woman. From the expression on his face, I knew that he found her attractive. I approached their table. "Excuse me, Doctor. Am I interrupting?" "Spock! Welcome to the Blue Unicorn. I'd like you to meet Morgan. Sit down and join us," McCoy said with a mischievous grin. I did not care to speculate about what amused our Chief Medical Officer. Morgan looked up with a smile; "I'm Dr. Morgan Price. You're Commander Spock? I've read some of your papers on quantum physics. I'm looking forward to your talk later this week." I nodded in acknowledgment. "Very kind of you, Doctor. I have also read your papers, and look forward to your presentation." I seated myself, and glanced at a drink menu and then over to the other side of the bar where Jim was engaged in an apparently hard-fought game of pool with a tall, dark-haired women. He was smiling at her, obviously interested in their conversation and their game. She had a look on her face that I recognized -- his reputation for being irresistible to women was well deserved. The barmaid appeared at my elbow. "I will have a Terran Scotch Whiskey - 15 year old Dalwhinnie, if it is available," I requested. I did not frequently consume alcohol, but inexplicably this drink had caught my attention. "Your friends have good taste, Doc," the barmaid commented to McCoy. "I'll be right back," she added with a significant smile to me. I lifted an inquiring eyebrow at McCoy, and he informed me, "That's what Jim had. Of course, when you only have two drinks all night, you can afford the good stuff. Back when he used to keep up with me, he drank the same cheap stuff that I do." McCoy took a sip of his drink. "Interesting, Spock. Jim's cut down on his drinking, and you've taken it up." "I am quite sure that one glass of alcohol will do me no great harm, Doctor," I responded. I was listening to McCoy's conversation with Dr. Price, but my mind -- and my eyes -- were on Jim as he bent over the pool table. The barmaid smiled when she returned with my drink. I sipped the whiskey, enjoying the slightly sweet, mildly peaty taste, and wondered what had led me to order the same drink as my Captain. Of course, our minds were very attuned to each other's, but this seemed an unusual detail on which to achieve accord. Savoring the taste of the whiskey, it occurred to me that this was what Jim's mouth would taste like when we finally found the opportunity to be alone for a kiss. I was not surprised to feel my cock became hard at the thought. It would be an easy matter for me to control my body's reaction, but I found that I enjoyed the sensation, so I did not exercise any control. I considered sending a mental message to inspire my Captain to look over at the table. But I decided to savor my drink and my feeling of anticipation as I waited for Jim to turn his attention to me. I gathered from the conversation between McCoy and Dr. Price that both of the women were presenting papers at the scientific conference. Not surprisingly, the woman that Jim had chosen to spend his evening with was as intelligent as she was attractive. No doubt she was charmed by his flattering interest in her research work. He was always successful with me using that approach. . . My reverie was broken when Dr. Price excused herself from the table, and McCoy turned his attention to me. He inclined his head in the direction of Jim and his companion. "It's a shame, you know, Spock, all that beauty going to waste." I lifted an eyebrow at the Doctor. "Are you referring to Dr. Alana King or to the Captain?" McCoy blushed and -- for once -- he could not come up with a suitable comeback. I decided to punish McCoy for his attempt to make me uncomfortable. "Doctor, do you assume that I am insensible to Jim's beauty? I am, of course, primarily drawn to his mind. But there is no logic in entering into a sexual relationship with a being to which one is not aesthetically attracted." Perhaps I should have regretted my words, but I did not. Jim and I had told McCoy about the change in our relationship less than a month after we first shared our bodies. McCoy had reacted with amused tolerance, but the Doctor and I had never discussed it. I privately suspected that he was not as comfortable with it as he pretended to be. He used Morgan Price's return to our table as an excuse to avoid answering me. McCoy covered up the silence between us by saying, "If you're not going to contribute to the conversation, Spock, I don't know why you bothered to sit down." "I see your point, Doctor. If you'll excuse me, Dr. Price..." I picked up my drink, considered joining Jim at the pool table, but instead walked over to a device I recognized as a jukebox. The machine appeared to be loaded with something similar to late 20th Century Terran Compact Discs. I know very little about the music of that period, but I scanned the titles as I sipped my drink. The barmaid stopped next to me. This time I noticed that she was young, attractive, and appeared to be half-human, half-Deltan -- an unusual mix. "Do you need some credit tokens to play the jukebox?" "Does this machine function? I had assumed that it was here for atmosphere alone." She smiled at me. Her smile was gentle, knowing. Knowing what? I asked myself. Deltans frequently have some telepathic or empathic powers. I should have felt some discomfort at her eyes on me, but it seemed to be just another part of a host of new sensations that I had begun to experience since I had taken Jim as my lover. "It works all right. Choose carefully. I wouldn't want the rest of the bar patrons to be upset with you if you chose something obnoxious. You should probably avoid Nirvana, but if you like romantic ballads, Sarah McLachlan is a good choice." I accepted the tokens from her, wondering why I should wish to avoid Nirvana, an ancient Terran term for a state of happiness. And what would make her suggest that a Vulcan was interested in a romantic ballad? But I turned back to the list of songs, and was inwardly amused to find a song by Sarah McLachlan called 'Ice Cream.' I could not imagine what was romantic about a frozen dairy product. However, I knew of Jim's fondness for ice cream, so it seemed an oddly appropriate selection. I put the token in, selected the song, and stood waiting for it to begin. I approved of the introduction: a woman humming, a piano, percussion in the background. The singer had a well-trained voice: "Your love is better than ice cream, better than anything else that I've tried. Your love is better than ice cream, everyone here knows how to fight. It's a long way down, it's a long way down, it's a long way down to the place where we started from. Your love is better than chocolate, better than anything else that I've tried. Your love is better than chocolate, everyone here knows how to cry. It's a long way down, it's a long way down, it's a long way down to the place where we started from." One hand on the jukebox, one hand lifting a glass to my mouth to sip the whiskey, I listened to the words. The singer's voice and the melody were both pleasing, but the words were hardly the basis of great literature. Unbidden, a memory came to me. The first time that I had seen James Kirk. We were both cadets at the Starfleet Academy at the time. Although we were in different classes and did not know each other, Jim Kirk was very visible -- youngest to enter the Academy, top of his class in most every subject, a reputation for brilliance and seriousness far beyond his years. I had been a loner, buried in my research in the library and the science labs. My aunt had been visiting from Portland, and had insisted that we go for a walk off-campus to see some of San Francisco. We had been walking on Union Street when she stopped in front of a shop cryptically named 'Double Rainbow'. "Ice cream, Spock?" my aunt had asked. "I do not care for any, but you must have some if you wish." The shop had been deserted except for the young blond human male behind the counter who had greeted them with a smile, and then waited patiently for my aunt to choose a flavor. I had walked over to the back of the store where there were announcements posted for classical music concerts to be held at Davies Symphony Hall. Perhaps my aunt would be interested in attending one, I had thought. "Double chocolate obsession?" the young male had said to my aunt. I remembered feeling amused and slightly superior as I contemplated the fact that Terrans had such odd ideas about naming the food that they consumed. "That's a good one. It's my favorite flavor," he had responded. After the boy - I identified the Terran's age to be perhaps 16 or 17 - handed the ice cream cone to my aunt, a woman walked out of the back room. "Jim, thanks again for saving my life. I don't know what I would do if you couldn't watch the shop this afternoon. Feel free to help yourself to as much ice cream as you want" "Thanks, Ruth. It looks like a slow afternoon. I can study between customers." After a second look, I suddenly recognized the boy as Cadet James T. Kirk. I considered introducing myself, but I decided that there was no need to embarrass him. It was best not to acknowledge that a Starfleet Academy Cadet had been driven to seek employment in an ice cream shop. Besides, I was hesitant about forming an acquaintance with someone who was so adept at drawing attention to himself as he did almost daily at the Academy. As my aunt and I walked out the door of the shop, Jim Kirk was scooping himself an ice cream cone of 'Double chocolate obsession'. "Nice young man," my aunt observed. "Do you know him?" I was astonished that she had seen a flicker of recognition in my eyes. My control was not what it should have been. I answered the second question first. "He is a cadet at the Academy, but I do not know him. It is not logical for you to form a conclusion regarding his personality based on no more than a transaction where he exchanged an ice cream cone for credits." She had smiled at me as she consumed her ice cream cone with obvious enjoyment. "Humans are not logical, Spock. I just have a good feeling about him. He has the warmest smile, and such beautiful eyes." Years later, I had to agree with her assessment. As the song ended, I brought myself back to the present. I had never mentioned that afternoon to Jim. Perhaps tonight, I would ask him if he still liked 'double chocolate obsession' ice cream. The song did live up to the young woman's promise of a romantic ballad. Entirely satisfied, I turned to resume my chair at Dr. McCoy's table. I had not noticed the reaction when I played the song. Most of the patrons were surprised to hear the melody cut through the noisy conversation. Some couples stood up to dance slowly. Dr. Alana King had been watching a certain young, handsome starship captain finish sinking the last few pool balls on the table. He had straightened, and, along with the most of the patrons of the bar, he looked over curiously to see who had chosen the song on the jukebox. After the song ended, Jim moved though the crowd with Alana King following him. I was already waiting for him at the table. He stood by my chair, and looked down at me with a warm smile. "Spock, this is Dr. Alana King. She's here for the conference. Alana, this is my First Officer. And my best friend." I stood up and nodded to her pleasantly. "Dr. King." I was aware of an amused grin on Dr. McCoy's face. "I'm ready if you are, Spock," Jim said. I nodded in agreement and looked for the barmaid. Kirk turned. "Thank you for the game, Alana. Nice to meet you, Morgan. See you later, Bones." Jim followed me over to the bar, pulling out his card in order to pay for our drinks. But the barmaid handed the bill to me, saying in a low voice, "It wasn't the song that I would have chosen, but it seemed to work." I raised an eyebrow at her, said nothing, but gave her an unreasonably large tip. Behind me I heard Alana King say to Leonard McCoy and Morgan Price, "What just happened here?" Dr. Price's voice was half-sympathetic, half-amused when she responded. "You know that's the Spock, who beat you out for best paper in the conference, don't you? I think he just beat you out again." As we walked out the door together, I heard McCoy's voice say, "I think they're just going to get some ice cream." Jim must have heard it, too, because he laughed before he put his hand on my arm as he followed me out the door. --- He walked beside his me, smiling as he inquired about my dinner with the physicist. He stopped suddenly. "Spock, this isn’t the way to the transporter station." "You are correct. We are not going back to the ship, Captain." "Oh? Did you find another bar with a jukebox?" "No, but perhaps, you would like to stop for ice cream, sir." His grin was wicked. "Not ice cream, Spock. I would prefer something hot and sweet." "I am, of course, yours to command, Captain." I led him through a hotel lobby and out the courtyard to a bungalow behind the pool, and produced a key from my pocket. "I thought perhaps the bed here would be an enjoyable change from the narrow bed in your quarters." Jim looked around with a smile of approval. The bungalow included a small sitting area, and French doors led into a larger room dominated by a four poster bed. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to slide his arms around my neck. Before we had been lovers, I had scarcely noticed that I was almost a head taller than he, but I soon discovered that he enjoyed having a lover that he had to reach up to kiss. Our lips met and we shared a deep kiss. I recognized the taste of the scotch whiskey in his mouth and then a sweeter taste that was his natural flavor. My hands moved under his tunic to gently stroke his naked back. My mouth moved to his ear. "I have thought of this moment all day." "Prevaricator! You spent all day thinking of temporal physics." "You are, of course, aware that I can reflect on more than one concept at a time." The serious look on my face belied my growing excitement as I stripped off his shirt and trailed kisses down his neck and shoulder before bending to take his right nipple into my mouth. He gasped with pleasure. "Spock? Can I ask you something?" " I am rather too busy to answer questions." I moved my mouth to his left nipple. "Perhaps, you require something with which to occupy your mouth?" I felt rather than saw Jim’s smile at my hint, and I also felt him run his hands down my body. I stood up to allow him to open my trousers, and grasp my erection in his hand. His grin was suddenly wicked. "Before I go any further, I’d like some answers, Mister." His tone was a gentle mockery of his command voice. My hands gently caressed his shoulders, and I looked down into his eyes. "What is it, my Lasha?" His expression softened as it always did when I called him ‘Lasha.’ He lightly stroked my erection. "That song you played at the bar? Where did you ever find it?" Although his hands on my body filled me with heat and desire, it was tenderness that I felt when I looked at him now. "It pleased you?" "Maybe I should have been embarrassed, having you play it for me in front of everyone, but, yes, it did please me. It was beautiful." I took his face in my hands. "You are beautiful, t’hy’la." I kissed his mouth again. "I would like to tell you that I had arranged it as a surprise, but it would not be true. I was waiting for you to finish your game, and I walked over to examine the jukebox. It was the barmaid recommended the artist, and I selected the song because of its title. I did know what it was about, but I found it most appropriate." "You are, you know? Much better than ice cream." He knelt to take my erection into his mouth. I gasped with pleasure, and ran my fingers through his hair. He drew his mouth away, and looked up with a smile of mock innocence. "Of course, you’re much, much warmer. And, thankfully, you don’t melt in my mouth." His tongue moved lazily on the underside of my erection. "Sometimes I believe that your touch will melt me," I said. His teasing hands and tongue fueled my desire, and I pulled him to his feet and led him into the sleeping area. "I am paying for the bed. I would like to use it." Between kisses, we removed each other’s clothes, and pulled the covers off the bed. I pushed him back onto the bed, and straddled him. I held his wrists in an iron grip as I thrust gently into his mouth. He closed his eyes, and moved his tongue eagerly, appearing to savor the taste. He opened his eyes when I pulled away, and lay down full length next to him. We kissed again as our hands explored each other, gently at first, and then more urgently. "Spock, I want you inside of me." "You are very greedy, my Lasha. Always talking about what you want. Perhaps, I do not wish to come inside you." My rock-hard erection and the way my hands moved down to caress him proved that I was not being completely honest. He laughed and reached for the tube of lubricant that I had placed on the bedside table. "I AM greedy. For you. Maybe I’ll just put this on you, and then you can decide what to do with it." "It’s a long way down It’s a long way down, It’s a long way down to the place where we started from." The words of the song seemed to echo in my ears as I thrust inside of him. Our minds intertwined as easily and as instinctively as our bodies did. The initial pain and heat turned into exquisite pleasure. He cried out loudly as he came; my cry of pleasure rang deep inside both of our minds. And then we lay silent, our legs and arms entangled, neither wanting to move apart. --- In spite of the lateness of the hour and the fact that we should have both been exhausted, we lay awake talking. Not only was there never enough time in our lives to make love as frequently as we desired; there was never enough time to talk. I lay on my back, his head pillowed on my chest. My fingers stroked his hair, and his arm was thrown across my stomach, his chest pressed against my side. I had been talking about the paper that I was presenting at the conference, and he interrupted with an occasional thoughtful question. Suddenly I remembered what I had planned to ask him. "Jim, what is your favorite flavor of ice cream?" His eyes were sparkling as he lifted himself on his elbows to look at me. He laughed softly and, just before his mouth claimed mine, he said, "Double chocolate obsession, don’t you remember?" --- The End