Date: 3 Jun 1998 15:35:21 -0400
From: Laura Jacquez Valentine
Subject: NEW: Out of Our Heads (TOS, K/S, )
Author: Laura Jacquez Valentine
Title: Out of Our Heads
Series: TOS
Codes: K/S
Rating:
Summary: Kirk and Spock try a little play-acting, and a sexy guitar
gets involved.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Kirk and Spock, and certain other persons
are owned by themselves. Thanks to Greywolf for kicking me in the
pants about this one.
This story is copyright 1998 by Laura J. Valentine
Unlike most of my stories, it is *not* set in the Overloaded Spock
Operator universe. :)
---
Out of Our Heads
I suppose I did it because Jim is a "history buff." Because I knew it
would give him pleasure, and because giving him pleasure lights fires
inside me. I did not expect it to turn out as it did. My body
remembers, trembles when ghosts of his hands travel my skin. I
have to stand and pace to shake off the feel of them and restore my
concentration. I have been making Uhura nervous all day as I have
circled the bridge like a caged animal. The guitar is in my quarters,
proud and sensual as a ka'athrya, and more dangerous.
I found it on Terra, on one of the Enterprise's rare stops there. I
so rarely have whims, and this one was so sweet...I bowed to my
feelings, let them rule me, let it seduce me as I dreamed of seducing
Jim.
----
The shop was a blackmarket antiques and reproductions distributor.
Replication of certain items is forbidden, but with a talented
programmer and some custom modifications, one can make almost anything.
The price of certain narcotics, for instance, has dropped
drastically since my days in Starfleet Academy, mostly due to cheap--and
quite illegal--replication.
Perhaps my father is correct when he accuses me of rebellion, as he does
so often. I cannot resist the blackmarket shops on Terra, the smell of
them and the dinginess, the quick evaluating flick of the eyes as the
proprietors decide whether or not they trust you, whether you have the
right contacts, whether you are safe. It is not logical. I do not know
of any other Vulcans who would even think of such a thing. And
yet...the lure is so strong. Forbidden fruit, my mother would say.
Illogical, childish, rebellious, my father would say. Fun, Jim would
say, laughing.
I knew this shop well, having frequented it when I was in the Academy.
The proprietor was named Janet, a plump woman perhaps fifteen years
older than I, and she collected "Vulcanalia." I had traded bits of it
for various Terran items over the years--another act of rebellion, since
some of the Vulcan pieces should never have left the planet, let alone
ended up in the hands of a Terran criminal. I hardly cared. This was
my secret life, the thing which tied me to my mother's world, and I gave
to it what gifts I could.
Janet smiled at me as I came in. "Long time no see, sweetheart.
Anything?"
"Of course," I replied, and laid my latest acquisition on the counter--a
carved gas bottle filled with liquid. "Sandalwood extract. A highly prized
aphrodisiac--on Vulcan. The bottle was designed and
carved by Senat cha'Senal over four centuries ago, and originally held
perfumed oils. That was before contact with Terrans, and we had no
sandalwood then, obviously."
She couldn't resist. I watched her try and hide how much she wanted it.
"How much?" she asked, her voice trembling. I wondered if she had a
Vulcan lover, someone who had never told her about sandalwood. Someone
she longed to use it on.
"A gift," I said, and turned to explore the shop. And I saw it--a red
guitar, a Fender, sleek and beautiful. I moved closer and picked it
up. Unreplicated--and very old. As old, or almost, as Senat's glass
bottle. And more dangerous, more alluring.
"A gift?" Janet said from behind me--very close behind me. I hadn't
noticed her coming close, and I jumped. "I shall have to make you a
gift in return."
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Date: 4 Jun 1998 16:09:46 -0400
Message-ID:
From: Laura Jacquez Valentine
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To: ascem@earthlink.net, jacquez@cmu1.acs.cmu.edu
Subject: NEW: Out of Our Heads (2/4, TOS, K/S, R)
I left carrying the guitar across my back. There was no way to hide it,
and I drew quite a few curious glances--a Vulcan with a centuries-old,
bright-red, electric guitar. And a book that Janet had given me. "One
of them used a guitar like this one. Take a look. You might learn
something."
There was nothing I wanted to learn more. I went to the hotel room I'd
rented for the week of leave I'd taken, and read the book cover to
cover. Then I closed my eyes and played the guitar, half-silent without
power. I would have to rig something up, tie it into the power systems
somehow. I had to hear it and feel it singing under my hands. But for
now...
I programmed the replicator in my room for some clothes to match those
in the book--some for me, and, after a moment's thought, some for Jim.
I would invite him here two days from now. He would love it. He would
laugh and tease me and want to play the guitar himself, and I
would bask in his pleasure.
I was aroused by the thought. His hands, reaching for mine, brushing
his fingertips over them as he took the guitar from me. His legs as
they would look in the tight trousers, the way his nipples would show
under the thin fabric of the shirt.
I set the guitar aside and lay back on the bed. I had to twist my hands
into the bedcovers to keep from touching myself. The fantasy was so
strong--I could almost see him, almost reach out and touch him. I tried
to think of something else, anything else, but I could feel his hands,
ghosts of his hands perhaps, sliding over my body, his mouth cool on
mine and his weight on me. I felt as I had felt in the pon farr.
Consumed by burning, by need and desire.
I gathered my will. If I was going to fantasize, I would *not* involve
Jim. I would involve a truth, a memory--my roommate at Starfleet
Academy, years ago. The first human, and the first male, that I
experienced sexually. The one who let me taste that which became my
addiction--human men, strong and soft and beautiful. Oh, Kevin--Kevin
long dead now, and remote from me. Safe in my memory.
I used to tangle my fingers in his hair--red and curly--as he pressed
his mouth to my stomach and licked downwards to my penis. He loved to
run his tongue over the ridges. Once, I asked him why. He laughed and
said "Extra lube, my love," and stood up--and kissed me until I thought
there was nothing more to the universe than Kevin, with his white skin,
his green eyes, and his lovely red hair.
He would lie underneath me and wrap his legs around me and hold me with
his whole body. He was sweet and alien and everything to me for nearly
three years, and it was he who introduced me to Janet. I let the
memories sweep over me again, carry me on them to the height of
ecstasy. Let myself come--oh yes, for Kevin and for Jim. For both my
true loves.
I cleaned myself and thought about that. Both my true loves. There
were so many things alike about them. That power that Jim had, the
smooth grace of his moves, reminded me of Kevin. When he had had
occasion to touch me, I had stilled the response in myself, my reaction
to him both as himself and as my lost lover. I must examine this
further, I thought. Is it Jim I want, truly? Or is it Kevin?
I put on the clothes I had replicated and went out to find some sort of
power adapter for the guitar. The clothes made me feel less myself,
but more dangerous, somehow--a Vulcan in a silk leopard-print shirt and
black jeans. A Vulcan on the prowl.
Rebellious, yes, my father would say. Jim would laugh and clap me
lightly on the shoulder. Kevin would have tried to hold my hand.
---
End part 2.
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Date: 5 Jun 1998 14:45:28 -0400
Message-ID:
From: Laura Jacquez Valentine
X-Mailer: BatIMail version 3.01
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To: jacquez@cmu1.acs.cmu.edu
Subject: NEW: Out of Our Heads 3/4 (TOS, K/S, R)
To my relief, Jim loved the clothes. He put them on with relish, while
I pretended not to watch, not to tremble at the sight of him in almost
nothing. Instead, I set up the guitar and flipped through the book,
looking for the song I had learned last night, just for him. I was
wearing yet another outfit I'd found in the book, and I knew it suited
me, suited the guitar...
Jim laughed and shoved his hands into the pockets of the jeans. "Where
did you find the program for this?"
"I wrote it," I answered.
"For me?"
"Yes."
The look on his face made my heart catch. Kevin used to look like that,
sometimes, just before he kissed me. And yet...Jim kissing me was
something that I had not dared to hope for.
But he was already distracted; the look was fading. He'd seen the
book. "What's this? Oh, this is lovely. Twentieth century! Spock,
where did you get this?"
"I have...contacts."
"The Rolling Stones. I've actually heard some of their music--survived
the Eugenics War because it was so widely disseminated. But I've never
seen pictures before." He turned the pages and found the costume I was
wearing. "You wear it better than he does. Who is that?"
"Keith Richards," I answered. "Appropriate, considering the guitar."
Could he see me shaking?
I closed my eyes and began to play. Perhaps I remembered enough of it
from memory. He would enjoy it. I knew he would. It would remind him
of his struggles with Starfleet Command. It would remind him of every
time he worked out a compromise with some recalcitrant diplomat, every
time he was asked for more than he could give, and gave it.
"...You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you might find
You get what you need--"
"Spock! Play this instead." I opened my eyes, startled.
He handed me the book, and I looked at the open page. Love is Strong.
Love is strong, I thought. He cannot possibly know. I reached for
Kevin within me as I had so often through the years. Give me strength.
*Go ahead,* Kevin said, laughing in my memory. *Play it for him. I bet
he swoons. I would've swooned.*
I read the music quickly and began to finger the notes. *Go all-out,*
Kevin said. *Balls to the wall.*
I stood up, let the feel of the clothes wash over me. Felt myself
transform, as though I truly was this man, dead three hundred years, who
had once held a red Fender and made it sing.
"Love is strong and you're so sweet
You make me hard, you make me weak."
I tossed my head back and let my body go. I felt distanced from myself,
aroused, so full of desire for Jim that I did not know myself. He must
see my arousal. It must be obvious. And I did not care.
"...I followed you
Across the stars..."
I thought I could feel his hands on my legs, caressing the muscles. I
thought he moved behind me and pressed against me. I leaned into the
sensation, into the feeling.
"What are you scared of, baby?
It's more than just a dream
I need some time--
We make a beautiful team."
This could not be a dream, unless I was going insane. His hands covered
mine, and I stopped playing. Froze in place, held my breath. I must be
out of my head.
He twisted the guitar around behind me and stepped away. I didn't
move. This was...fascinating, this manifestation of my desire. I must
write a paper on the effects of sexual stress on...I must try to appear
normal.
"You are so fond of history, Jim. I thought this would please you."
"It does, Spock. It does please me."
I am integrating reality into my hallucinations. That is exactly what I
expected him to say--the real Jim, who must be sitting on the bed
somewhere, not prowling around me like a wolf.
"More than you know, Spock. Hearing those words from you--you have
followed me across the stars, haven't you?"
The dream-Jim was touching me again, his arms around my waist, his legs
against mine. I reached out for something to cling to, something to
root myself in the world. *Love, go for it. I would. Though he's a
bit of a pretty boy, isn't he?*
Kevin...my Judas, Kevin. You have betrayed me. I heard him laughing as
I raised my hands and took Jim's face in them (the dream-Jim? the real
one? Kevin, do you know?) and kissed him on the mouth.
And his mouth answered me, and his hands tore at my clothes. I lifted
the Fender over my head and we tumbled onto the bed together. His skin
was human-cool and he smelled of fresh musk. It had been so long since
I had smelled a man like this, a human man, the right size to fit the
hole in my heart that Kevin had left behind.
This was so real. He pressed himself down on me, and my erection slid
along his belly as we moved. I reached and wrapped my hand around his
penis, felt the hardness of it under the silken skin. He twisted and I
lost my grip. I closed my eyes and waited for the next thing to
happen--and it did, as his lips brushed the inside of my thigh. As his
tongue travelled the shaft of my penis---
*I told you it would be fun, didn't I?*
Kevin, I am not having a threesome here.
*Sorry, sorry...*
Oh, Jim...
He entered me, and sobbed out my name when he came.
---
End part 3.
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From: Laura Jacquez Valentine
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Subject: NEW: Out of Our Heads 4/4 (TOS, K/S, R)
And so I paced the bridge. Uhura looked as though she would jump out of
her skin very soon now, but the end of my shift arrived before she did
so. I had scheduled a chess game with Jim, in the mess hall, safely
away from beds and the guitar. I didn't want to go, but I did. I had
to. Perhaps I could see him without losing control. I had to know.
He and I were silent for the first ten minutes of the game, and then he
made an unorthodox move. I looked up at him, ready to challenge, and he
smiled at me. That dazzling smile that tore me apart inside--
And then he spoke. "Well, love?" His voice was low, pitched only for
my ears. Not again. I swept the chessboard onto the floor and left,
running. There was only a skeleton crew onboard--very few people saw
me. But I could not stop running. How does one outrun a ghost? A
hallucination?
*How does one outrun a memory, love?*
"Kevin?" I spoke aloud, just to say his name. Kevin would have chased
me down, held me and kissed me and driven away the demons. There was no
answer but my breathing.
"I am a Vulcan. I must control--"
"Spock?"
Jim, behind me. He had chased me down. But he would not hold me. He
was not my lover. I was out of control. I had lived for Kevin, but he
had never made me lose control this way. His presence had not shot me
through with auguish and desire.
"Kevin..." I whispered.
"Your relationship with Kevin Lightfoot is a part of your personnel
record. You must have known. He's listed as your partner, deceased."
"Kevin has been dead ten years, three months, and seventeen days."
"Spock, I love you."
"Captain, I must request that you isolate me. I am--not myself."
"No. Spock, listen--" But I was off again, running.
This was shameful. I could not do this. I must control. *Spock, for
God's sake, stop hating yourself. Please.*
I hated myself?
I stopped running.
Hate? "Is that it, Kevin? I've never hated before."
*Please. I remember when you loved everything.*
"You are not real. You are a product of my imagination." I could not
do this. Could not listen to this.
*But it's what I would've said, isn't it? Go on, deny me.*
There were footsteps in the next corridor. It was Jim, walking slowly.
"It is what you would have said."
*Well, then.* And I saw him as he was the last time, laughing as he
boarded the Magsaysay, the ship where he died a year later of an unknown
virus. I had asked why he had listed me as his partner in his personnel
file, and he had asked if I objected. Of course, I had not. "Well,
then," he had said, and kissed me in the spaceport until I was trembling
from arousal. "That ought to last you until you find someone else."
And he had laughed, and left me there, and I had never seen him again.
Jim was getting closer.
I wanted to run. I could feel Kevin's hands on me, holding me still.
I waited.
Jim turned the corner, wearing the outfit I had replicated him only a
few days ago. He held the guitar in one hand, and he raised it towards
me.
"Play for me."
Kevin released me. I touched Jim's face lightly. "You mean it?"
"I mean it." He moved close and kissed me. "I really mean it."
---
End story
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