Happy Valentine’s Day (if you celebrate that kind of thing). Otherwise, happy Saturday to you! Today, Bee prompts us to write about a single/bi/threesome relationship. Over at SoCS, Linda‘s prompt is “attach/attachment.”
I’m offering up an excerpt from The Earth Doth Move, the Star Trek: TOS and Enterprise crossover fan fiction novel which was my NaNoWriMo 2014 project. My characters surprised me by becoming a threesome (that wasn’t in the story plan at all!). I’ve edited a few typos, but it’s otherwise exactly as written – in true NaNo-frenzied stream of consciousness style!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spock (despite what Paramount claims, I’m not sure they do either!)
**Warning: Sexually graphic scenes depicting group and extraterrestrial acts. You must be of legal age to proceed past this point. Those offended by erotica or explicit material might best click away now.**
There had been no hands on his back, then, stroking down to his buttocks, urging his plunging, hungry surges. No, nor breasts and lips to suckle, or to be suckled by, as he came, and came again, the bodies always shifting, giving new pleasure, and now their was a stavril, open to him like a lovely petal, stamen inflamed, and he dared to taste its sweet nectars, and then, transfixed by its beauty, by its pulsing, glistening beauty, he could not stop tasting, exploring, his mind held open to feel the way to give the precise pleasures she craved – and his stavrit – his stavrit was claimed it turn by hungry lips, playful teeth, and then, as he thrust tongue and stavrit, deeply, together, there was another mouth upon another stavril, making a harmonic wave, and then – and then there was Attunement – and T’Lys, stalking amongst them, stroking them, binding them into one Huntthread, so that they could feel together, touch one another, need not be close to be dancing.
“It is like to arytana, when the nectars are concentrated into a syrup,” she said. “Let this be your arytana, my fierce one.”
And so they drank another dose, and then another, and a third, and were the tide and the dancing together….
Spock reclined against the bed, with Mara on one side, and Thistle on the other, and there was the touching that was pleasant when all had found Completion – akin to the washings of the Pride, that bound them once Matehunt released them…
“What the hell is it with you, man?” Thomas was in the doorway of Spock’s quarters, watching them, smiling. “How the hell do you do it?”
“Essentially, the same way as you do, Thomas.” Spock lifted a brow. “Are you seeking more – pointers?”
“Why you arrogant – hell, I can’t even say it, with the three of you glowing like that, and you looking anything but arrogant – hell, you just look natural. Keep your pointers, Spock – I don’t think they’d do me a damned bit of good. You’ve got something I’ll never have – maybe it’s the points on your ears, even when you cover them up…I don’t know what it is, but you’ve been back less than a day, and you’re – you’re what?”
“We’re a couple.” Thistle giggled at that. “Aren’t we, our Dragon, our Mara?”
“Yes.” Spock and Mara answered together.
“What? No discussion of the illogic of calling three people a ‘couple’?”
“No, Thomas. It is – most logical to do so, for that is what we are. It is what we have chosen, to spare pain, and to find delight. It is – “
“Time to get ready for the party, is what. Which you’d know, Mara, if you’d been back to your room. I’ve got us starting at 7, and that’s only an hour away.”
“I was not finished speaking, Thomas.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you talk way too much when you’re drunk and horny?”
Spock considered this for a moment. “No. No one ever has.” Before he could say anything else, Mara claimed his lips, Thistle his stavrit, and, the next time he looked, the door was closed, and Thomas, if he had even been here, was gone.
“I fear that we are quite late for my party.”
The touching had spiraled, once again, carrying them into the tide, into sharing- of absinthe, and cannabis, and one another.
“It’s called being fashionably late,” Mara said.
“Making an entrance,” Thistle added.
“We are already inside,” Spock said, most logically.
But they only laughed, and dressed him, together, with nothing beneath the robe, and nothing over but a light cloak, edged in passion-green. Each of them selected one of the long Vulcan tunics for each other; as he prepared another dose – Sybok had brought a case of absinthe, this time, and they had more than enough to share, so, once the women were dressed only in the tunics that brushed the middle of Thistle’s thigh, and slightly lower on Mara’s, with light cloaks tossed over them, they arranged the bottles, and Thistle made a little sign in a lovely script, that read, BOYG – Bring Your Own Glass. Sybok had seen that there was sugar, as well – if they ran low, Mara said, someone could go to the Mess Hall and get more.
And then, they were ready – still bound together by what T’Lys had woven with them, within them, still dancing, at a level not far beneath Attunement, so that there was a strong sense of one another, and of oneness…
“There are – a great many people outside this door,” he said, and they could hear with him – well enough, at least, not to ask the seemingly perpetual human question – “Are you sure?”
Float down the stream with more SoCS posts!
Looking for more Love Is In Da Blog? Find it right here!