The BLTS Archive - Evening Delight
by Kiristeen ke Alaya (Kiristeen@themail.com)

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Standard Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this story belong to
the all powerful Paramount and Viacom. I've only borrowed them a
short while to let them have some fun. I'll return them only slightly
used. I will make no monetary profit from this. No copyright
infringement is intended.

Warning: This story is very adult in nature. It is rated NC-17 for
explicit het sex scenes. No one under the age of 18 is supposed to be
reading this. If you fall into that catagory please do not go
further. You can always come back when the law says you can. Just
think, it'd make a great birthday present to yourself.

---

Spock resisted pacing his quarters. It was the fourth time this
evening he'd had the urge. He was having great difficulty coming to
terms with both the reasons behind and the fact of
tonight's....assignation. He sighed heavily as the word flitted
through his thoughts and controlled his physical reaction to it with
iron control. Or rather, he tried to anyway. It was with some
disappointment that he realized he *couldn't* completely suppress his
body's reaction to what he had meticulously planned.

It was not logical to be this...disturbed by mere thoughts. He forced
his mind away from the encounter that should begin in 15.47 minutes,
assuming his...guest would show up *and* was on time. His mind went
back to lunch time.

** "Miss Chapel, may I speak with you a moment?"

"Certainly, Mr. Spock," she said in startled surprise. "Have a seat."

She'd been sitting alone, as he'd known she would be. Normally she
ate her midday meal with either Lt. Uhura or DR McCoy, but he
happened to know that both of those officers were occupied this lunch
hour. He slid into the seat across the table from her.

"What can I do for you?"

Her voice though calm and nearly free of emotion, was tinged with
both curiosity and something more. For once he was gratified to hear
it there. It meant his objective might be attainable. He had not
known until now whether there would be any chance. It had been 2
years since her declaration under the influence of the Psi 2000 virus
and much had happened since then that might have changed her emotions
regarding him, including but not limited to his wedding and
divorcement from T'Pring.

"Some time ago, through circumstances beyond your control, you
admitted certain...feelings in regard to me."

Christine Chapel blushed brightly, lowering her eyes. "Yes, I did,"
she answered, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "Why are you
bringing that up?"

"Because I wish to know if you would ever say those things when you
are...'in your right mind'."

"What?" Christine asked, her jaw dropping open. "You've got to be
kidding!"

"I assure you, Miss Chapel, I am completely serious."

It took a moment for her to respond. The fact that her thoughts were
in chaos evident in her expression and her eyes. He watched those
incredibly blue/grey eyes. He'd never really taken the time to notice
their unusual color before. They were quite...intoxicating. If he
allowed himself that feeling, of course.

"Spock, *why* would you ask me that?"

"There rest of this conversation hinges on your response."

Christine's eyes widened. Her mouth opened and closed twice before
she could find words to utter. She captured her lower lip as she
thought about her answer. Spock found, to his surprise, that his
attention was captured by the move and before he realized it, he was
imagining what it would be like if *he* were the one who's teeth were
worrying her full lower lip.

He sucked in a swift breath as he realized where his thoughts were
taking him. He struggled to analyze it, but kept being drawn back to
the site of her lip caught delicately between her white teeth.
Perhaps this was not the good idea he had originally thought. He...

"I suppose there *could* be circumstances where I would admit
those...feelings," she answered carefully, quietly, interrupting his
attempt to talk himself out of this encounter.

"But," she said offhandedly. "I don't see those circumstances ever
occurring, so I wouldn't be wo...concerned about it if I were you."

He could see the effort it took for her to make that statement with
as little emotional impact as was possible. He knew too, that the
picture she was presenting was *not* the truth, not if she still felt
the same way.

"Don't be so sure, Miss Chapel," he said softly.

"What?"

Spock almost smiled at her confusion. He couldn't blame her for it.
He *had* after all kept her beyond arms length for over two years,
never once indicating that he found her feelings anything other than
an...inconvenience. "I find that I would like to take you up on what
your words, and actions, of that day implied."

He saw her swallow convulsively. He hadn't thought it would be
possible for her eyes to widen any further. It seemed as though her
were mistaken. Her eyes now dominated her features. She shook her
head minutely. "I'm sorry, Mr. Spock, but you're going to have to
explain that last statement a little more clearly. I'm afraid, that
my mind is putting a rather far fetched connotation to that
statement."

"I think my intent should have been obvious," Spock replied drily.
"However, I will be more specific." He leaned forward so his words
would not be heard by any but her. "I would like you to come to my
quarters this evening. We could share a meal in private. We could,
perhaps, speak of the past and our...reactions to it. But what I
would like most of all," he continued, his voice lowering to a mere
whisper that she would have to strain to hear. "Is to taste of you,
to feel my hands on your skin and yours on mine."

So saying he rose, lifting his tray as he did so. "1700 hours, if
you're so inclined," he said and walked away, leaving a stunned
Christine staring after him.

She didn't move until after he disappeared through the door. She
heard his last words repeating in her mind over and over again. She
didn't dare stand. She didn't think her legs would support her if she
did. **

The door chime pulled him from his memories. As he rose he noted it
was exactly 1700 hours and also noted that in his preoccupation with
this afternoon, he had forgotten to control his body's response.

Spock took a deep breath, the let it out. There was no logic in
controlling that which was the purpose of this evening. As he palmed
open the door, he pushed aside the insistent little thought that the
entire evening was illogical. "Come in," he said softly and stepped
aside, allowing Christine to enter. He did not resist the desire to
drink in her presence.

Despite their conversation at lunch, he had not been entirely certain
she would show up. It had not been logical, once he'd decided on this
course to have left it open ended like that, but for the rest of the
afternoon, he'd discovered that the...uncertainty and anticipation
had its own rewards.

She turned slowly to face him and he wondered if it was a deliberate
display. If so, it had the desired effect. He found he had no words.
With one ridiculous exception, he'd never seen her out of uniform. He
tried to convince himself the dress she was wearing revealed far less
than the uniform she normally wore, but somehow his mind refused to
be convinced.

The silky material clung softly to her female curves, swaying softly
with each move she made. The bodice dipped into a deep V accenting
her rounded cleavage. He stepped toward her, amazed at the affect she
had on him. It had taken him so long to admit that he was attracted
to this woman, this opposite of him. Now that he had, it was as if a
storm had been unleashed within him.

The hand he reached out to touch the hair she'd allowed to flow
freely about her shoulders trembled slightly. It was soft, much
softer than it appeared when she was on duty. She'd noticed, he
thought when she smiled. It wasn't a wide smile. It was just the
suggestion of one. Then she lifted her eyes to his. They had darkened
to liquid pools of slate gray. He gasped softly. His chest tightened
as if there were steel bands slowly constricting around it and he had
difficulty breathing.

She reached up and cupped her hand around his cheek and moved closer.
The were mere inches apart when she spoke softly. "Perhaps it would
be better if we had dinner later?"

"That," he said, his voice as shaky as his hand. "would
be...acceptable." He trailed two long tapered fingers along her
cheekbone reveling in the shiver it evoked in her.

Her eyes danced merrily with some emotion he could not quite identify
as she reached up with her other hand to mimic his action. An
electrical shiver danced down his spine at her cool touch. His
breathing roughened in time to hers and suddenly pulled her against
him, wanting more than anything to feel her body against his.

She gasped then moved ever so slightly against him. Enjoying the most
physical proof of her effect on him. She ran her hands down the sides
of his neck then back up to trace the outline of his ears.

Spock leaning into her touch and still holding her tightly against
him, ran one hand over her back and up until his hand lightly cupped
her shoulder. He slipped one finger beneath the neckline of her gown
and slowly slipped it part way off. Leaning forward he pressed his
lips lightly to the exposed skin, gently nipping at the skin with his
teeth.

She gasped and dropped her head to the side, granting him easier
access. Her own hands found their way under his shirt and she palmed
them up to his chest. Her fingers curled through the hair she found
there, delighting in it. She shivered, her knees buckling from
beneath her as he moved his lips to the base of her neck and began
working their way up to her earlobe.

Her breath came fast and shallow, and she moaned deep in her throat.
Tiny arrows of desire rippled from every touch of his lips and tongue.

He lightly clasped with his teeth and followed it quickly by sucking
the lobe into his mouth. His breath came in short gasps as he tasted
of her as he had wanted to do for so long.

Christine's eyes closed in near ecstasy and her head dropped back.
One hand caressed his belly. His muscles twitched under her fingers.
She continued down, not stopping when she encountered his waistband.
Her fingers tingling in anticipation, she inched her way down and
lightly closed her them around the base of the now obvious bulge.

Spock gasped sharply. Her touch inflaming his desire. He pulled back
slightly, then grabbing the back of her neck he pulled her roughly to
him, crushing her mouth to his. He moved his lips over hers fiercely,
a silent demand for entrance to the cool, moist depths of her mouth.

Her emotions cascaded over and through him tangling and meshing with
his own. This passion was incredible, surprising in its intensity.
They blended so well he couldn't tell where his left off and hers
began. He'd never suspected that beneath this woman's gentle, quiet
exterior lay this depth of desire. It called to him. It seduced him.
It overwhelmed him.

Her lips parted and his tongue probed the confines of her mouth. She
deftly caught his tongue between her lips and sucked on it gently,
both her hands moving to the hem of his shirt. She pulled it upward
and he stepped back half a pace allowing her to remove it.

As he stepped forward he slipped her dress the rest of the way off,
allowing it to fall to the floor at her feet.

She stepped out of it and reached behind herself, deftly unfastening
the clasp of the delicate, lacy undergarment that confined her
rounded breasts. As it came free, Spock reached out, drawing the
straps down off her shoulders.

His tongue darted out and touched his own lips as her breasts were
freed to his view. He dropped the garment to join the others already
there. He stared at the vision before him as she stepped forward,
reached out and tugged lightly at the fastening to his pants.

His first instinct was to rip the confining material from his body.
He reached out and cupped her breasts instead. Caressing them,
trailing his fingers over her taut nipples, Spock felt his pants drop
to the floor.

Christine slipped her hands behind him, this time pulling *him* to
her as she grabbed his tight, rounded backside.

A moan escaped him as his lips captured hers once again. She melted
into him pressing her supple breasts against his chest. With a groan
that seemed wrenched from his very soul, he reached down and swept
her up into his arms. Holding her in his arms, a deep feeling of
power swept over him. His knees threatened not to support him as he
strode the short distance to the bed.

"Spock," Christine whispered softly, running her fingertips across
his cheekbones.

The sound of his name, in her husky, desire laden voice sent a thrill
through him. Her hands felt like they were everywhere at the same
time. The fire ignited by each of her caresses burned deeply, flaming
higher with each new touch. He felt like he was drowning in desire,
but found he could only want more.

His hands explored the silken softness of her pale skin, basking in
the contrast of her soothing cool body and the heat it caused within
him. He traced her lips with a single finger and she caught it
between her lips sucking it slowly into her mouth.

His groin twitched convulsively and he groaned softly, unable to stop
the sound. She released his finger, letting it slide out slowly,
suggestively. He trailed the moist finger over her temple, longing,
aching for more.

"Let me share with you," he whispered hoarsely. "Let me show you what
being Vulcan means."

"Yes!" she responded fiercely, her voice a rough whisper.

A second finger joined the first on her temple and Spock fell into
the amazing chaos of her passions. Their minds merged, their thoughts
and desires twined into one.

Christine gasped in astonished surprise. She felt his hands on her
and her hands on him. She felt him feel the same and their passion
soared, mirrored and magnified in the other. A touch her, a kiss
there, a soft groan, neither of which knew who made and suddenly they
could wait no longer.

Their remaining garments were hastily cast aside, neither caring
where they landed.

Christine curled her hand around his hard member slowly moving her
hand along its length. She teased the tip with one finger, finding
the moisture there and spread it over the head.

Spock reached for, and found, her center. He caressed and teased the
soft folds there. Seeking lower and deeper, he thrust a finger deep
inside. She was moist and ready. That knowledge flowed through him
threatening to shatter what control remained. She arched against him,
welcoming the intrusion. A second finger joined the first.

"Spock!" she cried against his mouth as it consumed her.

Spock continued, his thumb now circling the tiny nub in time with the
thrusts of his fingers.

Christine bucked and moaned as waves of sensual pleasure built within
her. Now!" she gasped, nearly incoherently. "Please!"

Spock removed his hand and she wilted, feeling its loss instantly. He
covered her body with his and in one perfectly timed thrust, buried
himself in her body.

They moved as one, countering the other in perfect rhythm, at once
impaling and being impaled.

Together they rode the waves as they rocked against each other, each
stroke taking them closer and closer to the edge that both craved
with every fiber of their beings. One more, then another. They both
crested together, their double climax crashed over them, flooding
them both from head to toe.

Trembling in the aftermath, they slowly floated back to reality.
Spock's arms shook as he held himself above her. Staring into each
others eyes, they remained still for long moments, neither wanting to
separate.

Spock finally rolled to her side, pulling her with him. She nestled
her head on his shoulder and draped an arm across his chest. They
took deep shuddering breaths, which echoed in the sudden silence.

"A dream come true," Christine said softly.

Spock smiled ever so slightly and crooked a finger beneath her chin,
lifting her face. He leaned over and touched his lips briefly to hers.
"Agreed," he answered just as quietly.

---

The End