Inner Sanctum

Wani ra yana ro aisha. The words echo through my mind, my heart, my very being as warmth, love, adoration, and a gentle state of tranquility…of safety, fills me. ‘I love you’…words never spoken lightly within the Vulcan race, only ever uttered in privacy to the single individual one intends to spend the remainder of their life devoted to.

I am that individual for my T’Naehm Sa-Kai, just as he is for me, an awareness of this ever existent as digits lightly stroke in a Vulcan kiss of a highly intimate variety, minds ever gradually rising together to the surface… The yacht of which we have been dreaming of together for the past three nights –physical contact a touch-telepathic conduit that has shown as of late to join our minds in the midst of sleep– finally fading away.

My T’hy’la’s natural body heat saturates through me as I am held by him, heads upon one pillow, foreheads pressed, our long legs a lazy tangle, one set of our hands interlaced.

Unity.

Home,’ my mind murmurs, contented, warm lips brushing against a defined clavicle, musing over the dreams of the past few nights.

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~ by Sochya on April 27, 2011.

25 Responses to “Inner Sanctum”

  1. With a low groan, the instinct to burrow into the warm side of my T’hy’la comes over me. Face to the heart in his side, I murmur against heated olive skin.

    “Do not wish to.” I shake my head against him, my hair tickling his ribs. He wriggles with a higher pitched sound of protest.

    Rolling atop his form, my chest parallel with his, I straddle his narrow hips with my thighs. “No, Ashalik. It is not Alpha shift. We have only just come from Delta.” patiently, as one would with a cherished pet.

    He lifts his body to meet my lips “Sochya and his T’Naehm are never late, Trensu.”

    Of course, his precision of language is without flaw. This does not prevent me from pulling him atop me, the thin fabric of our sleepwear doing little to eradicate sensation.

    “Shoktor**” I implore breathlessly “my Kaluk***…”

    **Kiss
    ***My ear

    • A low sound escapes as we are rolled over, hips greeting in a natural undulation, sensations doubled between us through telepathic contact.

      “I dif-tor na’lof dvin-tor du**…” Breathed as my head obediently dips to graze lips along the curve of his sensitive pointed ear, leaving a path of suckling kisses as my thighs straddle his hips.

      The stirring beneath me is felt, inspiring my own, touch adding to the wave of arousal experienced.

      Which, in and of itself, is precisely why I cease, exhaling quietly, my forehead coming to rest against the one beneath me so as to aid in the regaining of control.

      “…However our priorities need lie with our duties, Trensu.” Duties outside this room, as preferable or…tantalizing…as it would be to remain.

      It is with this that I gather myself both from atop him, and from the sleeping platform, smoothing my sleepwear.

      ** I live in order to serve you

  2. Practical.
    Dutiful.
    Logical.
    And acting without permission.
    I reach for his arms as he straightens the placket of his sleeping pants, impossibly proper and utterly disarming in his earnest endeavors.
    Pulling him back down with a guttural growl, one hand firmly administers a single audible thwack.
    My breath catches, as I had expected a muffled sound, due to the fabric enveloping his posterior. However, the sudden movement has caused the waist to drop in the rear portion, exposing heated skin to my hands. I allow my hand to remain; indeed, I find myself gripping deep enough to affect his gluteal piriformis.
    His mouth opens in surprise…but not in protest.
    I place my own mouth over his. He yields.
    I cradle him gently. He sighs, wrapped in my arms.
    I lean him back, my hand behind his head. He gazes up at me.
    Bending, pressing my lips to his forehead, I tenderly tetau* my nose against his. I murmur my daily kudaya** softly from our nightly devotional literature.

    Ma etek natyan teretuhr lau etek shetau weh-lo’uk do tum t’on“***
    I then sprint to the sonic shower before he can catch his breath

    * Rub
    ** Blessing
    *** “We have differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us” from Surak’s Sayings

    • I cling to his every word, surprising myself in my desire for him to not release me despite our upcoming shift. In his arms, there is warmth, in his arms, there is safety, in his arms, there is a level of trust and love that could never be replicated.

      Home.

      His kudaya washes over me and I tilt my chin up, head light, lost to the telepathic combination of our tender emotions, our lips brushing together…and just as simple as that, not unlike a thief in the night, he is gone.

      Breathless, eyes that I had not realized I closed opening, I observe as my reflection disappears into the sonic shower, his body heat like a memory against my flesh, his tight grip upon my posterior still felt in echo.

      Lips twitch ever faintly upwards. I turn onto my stomach taking a moment to first breathe in my Trensu’s scent. Our scent, so similar yet distinct. Before finally pushing myself up.

      I gather a clean uniform to offer T’Naehm when he completes his shower, anticipating his needs, and one for myself for the shower I will take after him.

      Another morning between an intended Vulcan pair.

      • He is clearly visible, as I am cleansed by the sonic waves. He leans against the double basins, in the adjacent room, and watches me in a mirror. He does not think that I can see him, observing me.
        My Sochya. How your presence calms your T’Naehm. Make no mistake, my Taluhk Kafeh…I am yours.
        Something odd that I note within myself: I find that I enjoy being…observed. I find that I regret the efficient and brisk option of Sonic versus water. I find myself wanting to preen, to pose…to give my T’hy’la something worth watching.
        Shaking my head at this, I shut off the sonic system. I exit, not bothering to cover myself, nor the effects my musing has produced. Noting Sochya snap to attention, I want to purr with satisfaction.
        I do not. Instead, I stand before him as he presents my uniform, removing it from his forearm. I watch the definition of his pronators and biceps brachii as they roll slightly and plump, respectively. Taking the proffered garments from their neatly folded place atop his palms, my unoccupied hand comes up to cup his cheek.
        Rom Sa-kan.*”

        *Good boy.

  3. Elegantly pointed ears shade a pale jade as dark hues follow my approaching Trensu, his lerash’es* not lost on me, recollections of previous, intimately shared bathing sessions between both he and myself passing through my thoughts.

    My reverent gaze meets his as he takes the garments I offer, soon leaning into the contact of his naturally heated palm. His satisfaction, his pleasure, his approval conveys so easily through such seemingly simple displays of physical contact.

    “Fan-vel na’ du, Trensu.* *”

    Never once breaking our gaze, I turn my head just enough to brush my lips into the center of his ever sensitive palm, murmuring, “Taluhk nash-veh k’dular.***”

    Eyes close, lashes resting upon the rise of my cheeks.

    When they reopen it is in humble inquiry as to whether I, too, might be so permitted to bathe now…lest our proximity affect us both further.

    It is only when my beloved T’Naehm inclines his head in permission that I step away and methodically begin to peel away the pieces of my sleepware, folding what requires folding, and step into the sonic facility.

    * hardness
    * * Anything for you, Master.
    *** I Cherish Thee

    • Watching as his alabaster corpuscles are cleansed thoroughly, from the soles of strong lean feet to his smooth forehead, I trace my fingers over my own inherently warm skin. As he reaches up to jerk a hand through a fistful of his bluntly-cut hair, I take my heavy Lok in hand.
      While my eyes fall to half-masted slits, a mere 13.5 languid strokes ensue before I realize I will not leave if I continue. I cease, therefore, and leave the presence of my sa-kan to resume preparations.
      Before we fell asleep within each other’s embrace, my Sochya Sa-kai pre-programmed the replicator to prepare a sumptuous feast for us both to break our fast. It falls to me to attend to the presentation thereof.
      I glance at the timepiece on the bedside shelf and allow my mouth to curl into a smile the outside world will never view. My thoughtful Ashalik has that effect upon my person. He changed the initial alarm setting to an earlier one, after I voiced my displeasure yesterday that there was not sufficient time for me to enjoy our break-fast together.
      I place one of the cerulean Cardassian carnations atop his uniform, folded where he will find it, when he emerges.
      Satisfied with the arrangement of the other blooms on our dining platform, I pass our ongoing chess match, on my way to my Lyre.

      • Cleansed and refreshed, nimble fingers go about unfolding my uniform just as the sound of a soothingly played Lyre greets acutely pointed ears from outside the bathing chamber, digits coming across a single cerulean Cardassian carnation hidden discreetly within the folds.

        A warmth enters my generally stoic gaze, the impassive edges of my countenance softening, an appreciation held for such seemingly simple gestures…reminders. I bring the carnation up in order to inhale its unique scent.

        “My Tal-kam T’Naehm…” He shows to me, alone, that which the universe will never see of him, the private sides to his persona, ever meriting of my respect, so often leaving me in a state of sem*.

        Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds pass before I emerge into our living space fully clothed, carnation in hand, dark hues noting that out breakfast is already set with an array of similar flora upon our dining platform.

        Gazes meet, a haul-glakuv* *, yet his takau*** without the need for words or gestures, and mine display a quiet Teshan****.

        I approach while he continues to play a melody of his own creation…our melody, light and dark, war and peace, seamlessly intertwined and perfected. I lower to one knee at my Trensu’s…indeed, my S’haile’s***** side, head bowing in time with the action.
        I humbly present to him the blossom he left me.

        * Fascination
        * * Mirror-image
        *** Beckon
        **** Awe
        ***** Lord’s

  4. On his knees.
    One hand over his heart, beneath the fabric of his shirt.
    Pale olive tints his abdominal musculature as the thorns of the bloom scratch into his chest. He doesn’t wince, and my melody alters with the dizzying array of thoughts and desires he incites within me.
    There is a white orchid on the table. In a fluid motion I set aside my instrument, plucking the delicate flower. It is with great reverence that I place one hand over his, pushing the Cardassian carnation’s thorns deeper.
    My Kafeh closes his eyes against the sensation. The puncture, then the trickle. I catch the emerald droplets, letting the color stain the orchid, interfering with the pale fuschia accents.
    I kiss the blossom that punctured him, tucking it into the waistband of his trousers, where its constant presence will make itself known throughout the day.
    Where it will remind him of the bloodstained orchid I keep in similar fashion.
    Leaning very close to him, I kiss his parted mouth.

    • As I respectfully rise, the thorns of the bloom within the waistband of my trousers scratching just so against my flesh in reminder, warm lips meet my own, firming, meshing together in a kiss that speaks of ownership, reverence, trust, and unadulterated affection.
      There will never be a moment throughout this day, in which the other will not be present within our thoughts. ‘Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched’. Words saved only for a bonded pair, and yet despite our not yet consummating a Vulcan bond, already I experience this with my Trensu.
      Ours is a connection like no other.
      “Breakfast does await us,” I murmur at length, our digits brushing together in a Vulcan kiss, ever aware of our unique duality, “our shift soon to follow.”
      At the inclination of his head, we step away and seat ourselves, commencing what will become our morning ritual, engaging in conversation as we do so.
      When eyes meet, lips curve, secret smiles for our eyes only.

      • Throughout my day, individual mental flashes come to my memory of my Sochya: bathing, sleeping, eating, reading…loving me.

        Indeed, in each and every setting my mind recalls, I see within his eyes a growing respect, and what I can only interpret as…Love.

        I come to this conclusion based upon the fact that it is what I, myself, convey if not through the myriad of glances we share, through the conductor of our skin as long tapered fingers intentionally seek a disruption in the other. The moments wherein we lose our inherent sense of time and punctuality within deep gazes…

        I reach for the bloom when I find a moment of privacy. This morning a patient in sickbay had a violent reaction to a vaccine for Andorian Shingles, and before lunch there was a drunken brawl amongst visiting undignified dignitaries. It would appear the hour had no direct bearing upon their revelries.

        Alone in a turbo-lift, I hold the once-white orchid to my nose, inhaling of my T’hy’la

  5. My shift leaves me with little if any true time to myself. Whether it be at my station upon the Bridge running analysis of readings, compiling reports, standing in the Captain’s stead whilst he tends to the aftermath of a brawl among dignitaries, or impassively answering crew queries…a moment of solitude is never mine.

    Yet even in the midst of all this, my Trensu, my T’hy’la, comes to mind often. Every second stride, every lowering into my seat, every rising..impresses the thorns of the blue Cardassian Carnation against my more sensitive skin just beneath the lining of my regulation trousers.

    To the point, on occasion, that brown hues close for .4 seconds, ear tips dusting faintly.

    The pinpricks are a comfort; reminders of his…Love.

    A sensation, a presence…that I welcome with all of me, recalling him, our conversations, the feel of his form against mine, his arms about me…my reverence and love for him.

    It is as though T’Naehm stands here, by my side, throughout my shift.

    • It is in the latter portion of this day that does not seem to end, that I am called to the bridge. A deep inhale before exiting the turbolift, and I stride with purpose to the Captain.

      I feel eyes upon me, noting the exact number of occupants in my periphery, behind and before me. Accommodating seventeen seated persons, the Captain included, when fully staffed…at this moment there are precisely fourteen occupants on the bridge. This number includes a brunette female yeoman behind me and to my far left, also a male engineer with a tribal marking peeking from his uniform collar beyond her. My mind automatically inventories staff: filing names, subjective emotional states, and levels of decreased productivity since my arrival.

      Twenty-four ocular orbs swivel in my direction, but dare not look at me. I am an anomaly, yet, in their eyes.

      One pair, ice blue, stares into my own with impunity.

      Another pair, human in a clean shaven replica of my own face, finds sudden interest in his panel…but not before I note the dual swipes of jade that color his naturally olive skin. Beloved. My T’hy’la. My own. Conflicted, proud…and experiencing elevated cardiac activity. Be still, Sa-kan. I can practically feel your pulse thrum within your veins.

      Focus, I chide myself, angling my head at the self-important nuances and dramatic pauses Jim is prone to utter. Yes, Kirk. The brawl was unexpected. They usually are. YES, the Dignitaries have been treated with…Dignity. Captain Redundancy has interrupted my day with futile briefing that seems to quell some urgency in his little head. My Fonn Ashayam could do your job with more aplomb and accuracy than you could possibly fathom.

      I allow an unacceptable quantity of placation to my voice as I speak to him as one would address a child.
      “Will that be all,Captain?”
      Now, all eyes are on me, my Sa-kai’s included. His, the only ones that matter one iota…and they are displeased.

      • I remain seated, a stillness all but felt throughout the Bridge at my Ashal-veh’s tone…a collective pausing in respiration. Jim, however, would appear utterly unaffected, a grin breaking across his previously more ‘business-oriented’ expression as his hand claps my T’hy’la upon the shoulder with a surprising level of good-temperedness, gently squeezing.

        Terrans and their illogical proclivity for physical contact… I am no doubt more accustomed than my Sa-kai, and the previous disapproval within dark hues is replaced with a quiet concern that T’Naehm might react poorly.

        Negatively… Before each and every occupant of this Bridge.

        There’s a good Lieutenant. Yes, that’ll be it. You’re doing great.”
        So easy it would be to miss the subtle condescending cordiality for those without such acute hearing, the Captain’s eyes and visage betraying nothing.

        Naturally, I remain silent, gaze trailing from the blond to my Trensu, catching the flicker of his to mine just as I do so, and it is my hope that it is sufficient.

        …Be lenient…Kirk is only human, my intended, ignorant and brash…

  6. My level of comfort with tactile responses prevents me from grasping the hand on my shoulder and wrenching it down and around the Captain’s back.

    However.

    My eyes flicker in the direction of my T’hy’la, and finish the scene in the cinematic method we both utilise in our minds. Face shoved into hard, unyielding surfaces, my body lined up perfectly so that it almost feels adhered to his posterior…

    Our blood, our minds…Never and always touching and touched…

    Communication received. My Fonn Ashayam knows my thought processes and their inevitable conclusion, as always. We must wed. Soon. I burn for you, Sa-kan..

    Noting that I have ignored the physical affectations Kirk is prone to, as well as my physical results of the brief fantasy of my T’hy’la, I return my gaze to Jim.

    Eyes at half mast, open wider and my voice breaks before emitting a huskier “Indeed.”

    • My eyes widen minutely, a jade hue creeping its way across the rises of my cheeks. A wave of heat passes through me. Seeing, without the need for physical contact between us. Knowing.
      I am swift to suppress what threatens to rise, then. I am on the Bridge. This is hardly a suitable location to be experiencing any level of arousal.
      …Nor will I permit others to view my Sa-kai’s, a possessiveness stirring in me.
      “Captain. A word.”
      So as to waste no time in distracting him from taking note of my Trensu’s current state, brown oculars observing as he then turns to approach me, waving a dismissive hand at T’Naehm.
      The crew is quick to redirect their attentions to their duties.
      “From my readings, I have concluded that the planet we are en route towards…” And I continue with a report that I need not have elected to give at this juncture, yet am doing so, offering my intended the time and leeway to take his leave lest others see what should be for my eyes only.

      • Order restored by the gentle guidance of my Sochya sa-kai, as everyone returns to their work. His very person has swiveled opposite Kirk, allowing him to easily distract with an index finger on the PADD’s graphs, supporting his work…as he makes eye contact with me.

        As I walked into the turbolift I angled my thickening Lok within its confines, northward against my lower abdomen, where it remains hidden by my tunic.

        I…would be visible by 1.7 inches above my waistband, should I lift my fitted black uniform shirt.

        Turning within the turbolift, still observing a bridge that still does not know what to make of us, I capture his gaze. My T’hy’la. My own. I reach for his orchid, lifting the stained petals nearer to my lok.

        My fingers retain trace remnants of the emerald droplets’ fragrance. Never releasing his eyes with my own, I bring the fingers to my face, before the door encloses me.

        My security clearance code is issued verbally for the turbolift to transport my corporal being, even as my Fonn Ashayam’s blood allows my soul to be transported in an altogether different manner.

        Will this day come to a conclusion? Bring the Night, and with it, my T’hy’la.

  7. And so the hours pass…and while it is an utter impossibility in all reality, it could almost be stated that they passed far slower than one would consider to be agreeable. Nonetheless, they do pass until my shift has reached its completion, and as always, I do not leave the Bridge immediately.

    Dark hues impassively observe as each officer is relieved by the one who is to take their place for the next shift, waiting until the Captain has also taken his leave, prior to rising from my station.

    With an inclination of my head to the lieutenant relieving me, I take the turbolift, each second step impressing thorns against my flesh. A constant reminder of his presence, with me always. Eyes close and I wait as the lift moves, thoughts drifting to today’s encounter with my Trensu, a deep pulse of…

    But no, not yet… This is not our quarters. Desire, longing, a yearning to be together again…

    Soon.

    Very soon.

    Beneath a cool exterior, a simmer of anticipation stirs as I neatly step off the turbo lift, hands folded behind me.

    Shall he be there, present already? Or shall I be the first of us to arrive?

    My breath stills upon reaching the door to the quarters we now share, watching as it hiss quietly open, permitting me to step through into what awaits beyond…

    • The trivial and, ultimately, inconsequential has almost too much meaning now.

      The way we gaze upon a far-flung constellation that is currently perishing in a remote corner of the sky. The way the water trickles over smooth stones in a fountain crafted by the small, hardworking hands of…whomever.

      Time is now without logic.
      It would appear as though the lines that once separated us, are smudged. Much like ancient artwork of carbon based instruments to thick, creamy, pulp based paper.
      Obsolete, and transitory.

      Well, are we not similarly constructed…

      Logic is no longer my most cherished possession.
      The presence of my intended seems to continuously rip the roots of Logic from my cranium, leaving a gaping wound that the emotion of lust readily fills. Much like Quantum Foam bridging across a black hole, rendering it impenetrable.

      I lack control. I hope to rediscover it, here.

      The moments before my Sochya returns to our shared residence on this vessel are passed in meditation. As a traditional Terran groom may prepare his or herself in the evening prior to receiving his or her bride, by way of a ceremony of release…so passes my time.

      Ordinarily.

      In this instance, all I can view is that of the celestial stage. I have deprogrammed the sensors as well as the voice command that would illuminate our quarters.

      I wait for him here.
      A groom at the end of the aisle.
      A panther in the trees.

      T’hy’la…

  8. Darkness. Noted immediately as I enter, the doors hissing closed behind me, drowning me within it. The lights, unlike they would normally, do not illuminate the space. A change has occurred, one that brings with it a world of uncertainty as I step forward.. And yet.. Perhaps..

    Am I not alone?

    Lips part to voice an order to the computers so light might brighten this space, stopping short when a low whisper reaches delicately pointed ears.

    My breath catches..pulse giving a quickened stutter. My heartbeat does not go unnoticed by acute hearing here in the velvety darkness, brown hues taking a moment to grow accustomed..

    Searching..

    “Trensu..” Both query and statement in one, stepping mindfully forward, thorns pricking me with the movement, eliciting a slow inhalation in response to the sting.

    An ever present reminder as to whom I belong to.

    Yet I do not see him.

    Even so… His presence exists here, felt, just as I am inherently aware that his eyes have not left me since my entering. He follows my every movement. Ever sensitive digits flex prior to my folding my hands behind me.

    I strive to quell a mixture of both nervousness and excitement..this simmering anticipation for what’s to come..illogical, a brief surfacing of my more human side.

    He is able to affect my level of strict control to such a degree, even now, even after all this time..

    How I have longed to be near to him once more.. What has he planned?

    “I am here.”

    • Dark, metallic…a cloying sweetness that is separate from the bloom that must be, by now, a deep green; the hue of forestry.

      Add to this, a crisp clean warmth that is the fragrance that emanates from my love. My intended. I would know his scent, were it on a scrap of clothing long discarded.

      I would cherish it, as though it could somehow bring him back.

      I yank myself from such morbid thoughts and select an item from those I’ve chosen for this task.

      When he steps closer, I can see him better than he is able to view me.
      As I toss an item behind him, hitting the metal door with a clang, my smile is hidden in the darkness when he turns to the sound, startled.

      A button is pressed on the device in my hand, playing a recording of my lyre. It’s plucking so redolent of…Home. The native soil upon which we both toddled our first uncertain steps.

      Before he can complete his current third step in the direction of the lyre, I press another button. A recording as well, but a sample of Kirk’s voice. Behind my Sakai. The words themselves are nonsense, the inane prattling of a self-important fool, according to my calculations…but it serves my purpose.

      He freezes, his footwear making an audible squeak, much like the athletic room this morning as traditional Mayan great hoop was played…without the customary reward.

      I choose that moment to speak “Do you trust Me, Taluhk Don-tak**?”
      and select a weighted roll of fabric foot coverings, to toss to his right.
      “Answer, as you remove your clothing…and kneel to be examined.”

      **Precious Possession

      • A previously quickened pulse all but stills in time with my movements when the voice of my captain joins that of the soothing lyre. Puzzlement surfaces, an uncertainty as to what my sa-kai has planned.

        His query reaches my ear…

        Trust.. So difficult to earn, and yet so easy to break..

        It is something to be cherished and held dear, fostered…never taken for granted…

        His precious possession.

        Lips part to answer, only for a weighted clang to echo to my right, ensuring that I give a somewhat startled jolt in that direction.

        His subsequent order inspires a flutter of delicate nerves circling the lining of my stomach, veridian dusting along the tips of my pointed ears.

        Eyes close and I take in a steadying inhalation..i am His. Peace is found in that fact.

        Dexterous fingertips lower to the hem of my uniform shirt, lifting it up and above my head, sinewy muscles shifting beneath taut skin…permitting blue fabric to drop, as he did not voice whether or not I was permitted to fold it.

        His intense gaze, unseen, but felt, brings a jade flush to the surface of my exposed flesh, my heart rate increasing 16.2%, a twitch of sensation stirring my lok.

        I begin to speak then, my voice reverent, “T’nash-veh sahrafel na’ du…”

        Bending at the waist, I undo my regulation standard boots, slipping out of them, straightening my spine. Digits lower to obediently undo fastenings, pushing down black fabric along with my undergarments until I stand amidst the darkness, bare. Exposed only to him.

        Knees bend, lowering me gracefully to the floor until I am kneeling. His willing kafeh awaiting examination.

        “…dungau nam-tor ek’wak, Trensu.”

  9. A tremulous whisper “Rom Sa-kan” is expelled from my lips as his obedient posture draws me inexorably forward, abandoning my clever ruse and objects used to execute it. Indeed the need to kiss him, tracing adoring fingers over the expanse of his exposed skin, causes my Lok to remind me of its neglected state.

    After my Vulcan kisses leave nothing unappreciated, my digits rise to his nape, rubbing his cheek along my naked thigh as my voice…graveled due to some unforeseen phenomena—it is a physical reaction, my Sochya the catalyst thereof. My hand leaves the slight barrier that is his hair, and reaches to cup his face, tilting it to me as various flora will follow a light source.

    I convey, with deliberate emphasis, through our skin: “I adore you. I wish to ravish you, until nothing remains of us. Do you understand, that is, are you aware of the strength required of me that prevents me from so doing, out there…while others surround us? Simultaneously, I also wish to steal you away from every prying gaze. You are mine. The fact that others can take their fill of you with the sense of sight…” I shake my head, with disgust. “I would render the whole vessel blind, if possible.”

    I convey, unintentionally, with my touch: “Your trust…it is the most gorgeously stupid thing I have ever loved in my lifetime. I know not what to do with it, with myself. T’hy’la…I have….needs. Depraved desires for you, for your flesh, for your future. Everything in my being wishes for you to run. I do not wish my love to destroy you. I am afraid to drop this delicate thing, your love. I am afraid the shards will pierce and kill us both.”

    The thoughts are equally rushed, but nothing is missed. The darkness that envelops us, also hides my shamed face, the elevated capillary activity, and indeed…the naso-lacrimal duct activity I seem to be unable to stop. I hope nothing but the customary salt water touches my beloved, my Ashalik Ek’zer***.

    ***Beloved Jewel

    • A shiver curls down the length of my spine at his whisper, my prize almost immediate. His touch, the rush of his emotions as Vulcan kisses caress every inch of me, leaving a trail of tingling sensation that stir my lok further.

      Brown hues close, registering all that his touch conveys to me, feeling a tightening of my sternum, a catching in my breath as a warm drop of liquid falls to my lips… I take a moment to gather myself and exert, if nothing else, a make-shift control over the startling swirl of emotions felt, my tongue lightly trailing across my lower lip to gather salty moisture.

      “Trensu..” conveyed only through touch, reverently brushing my cheek against his naked thigh, a faint tremble to fingertips as they rise to trail up along the outside of either thigh. “I adore you. I yearn for all that you yearn for… I hold deep admiration for your strength, and while others might see me, know always that I am forever yours.”

      “U’ du t’ t’nash-veh…***” Whispered aloud.

      Fingers reach his posterior, slowly kneading experimentally at the flesh there as eyes open, traveling up the length of his body to stare up at him in the darkness beneath my lashes. “I am not made up of porcelain, Ashal-veh.. Nor are you. You will not destroy me, nor us. Together we are strong. My flesh and my future is yours…do with me, as your will sees fit.”

      Sincerity in my gaze, an unreserved willingness to offer myself to him completely…to submit to him in pure trust and faith. In him. In us. We are intended.

      ***As you are mine…

      • The silence following my Sochya Sa-kai’s profession of adoration and commitment actually proves to be quite loud.
        And why is it, that his very presence renders me quite illogically…poetic for lack of better word? I quite suddenly see how there is a natural flow and ebb to the succession of imagery and verbage that comes from every moment we share.
        My T’hy’la makes me… happily …cerebrally verbose, mentally mellifluous.
        Fonn Ashayam’s eager but tentative fingers make their way around my naked buttocks, after conveying the contents of his heart.
        A strangled moan is permitted past my lips as I reach for his naturally heated cheek, cupping it with one hand.
        Gripping the base of my attentive and ready lok with the other hand, I tap his lips once, twice before pushing it past forcing it in to rest along his fiery velvet tongue.
        Sliding my hand to thread the fingers into his silken hair
        I shove into his mouth with force
        Kafeh…”

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