DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the
property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The
story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c)
2014 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
Why Do You Want Me?
by Djinn
The
reception was winding down; Ny and Spock had left hours earlier, slipping out
when Chapel was busy meeting yet another important person Sarek wanted to
introduce her to. Probably easier
for Spock to leave after the confession—after the gift—he'd given
Chapel about Amanda wanting her with Sarek once she was gone.
Chapel
heard soft footsteps, then the...feel of someone behind her. She knew it was Sarek, both by the smell
of his incense-suffused robes—a different scent than Spock's—but
also by how close he was standing.
"You done here?" she asked softly.
"I
am."
"See
a girl home?"
"I
have a flitter waiting outside. I
thought you might be tired."
She
turned to look at him. "When
we get to my place, you're coming up.
We need to talk."
His
expression seemed to indicate he'd expected this. He dropped his hand to her back and let
it sit only a second before he urged her gently forward to the door and the
waiting flitter.
They
rode in silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Her place was close—she could have
walked but was glad she didn't have to in heels—and he followed her
inside after sending the flitter back to the embassy.
She
laughed as they got in the elevator.
"Ballsy move. Don't
think you'll be needing a ride back tonight, huh, buster?"
His
eyes were crinkling as they did whenever she amused him, but he lifted his hand
in a Vulcan gesture of nonchalance.
"It is a short distance.
I can walk if necessary."
"True
enough." She led him to her
apartment, palmed the lock, and motioned him in, then put the door on privacy.
His
eyebrow went up. "You do not
normally do that when I am here."
"I
sure don't, do I?" She pointed
to the couch. "Sit."
He
sat in the spot he always picked when he was over, probably thinking she'd join
him in her customary place next to him on the couch.
She
chose a chair instead. "Why do
you want me on your team? You went
to all this trouble to get me out of Ops and assigned to your team—and I
haven't necessarily said yes, by the way—and now I want to know
why."
He
didn't answer at once, and she liked him even more for that. He studied her, and if he'd been Spock,
the searching way he was looking at her would have made her feel like a bug
under a scope, but Sarek's look was truly curious. Then his expression lightened. "Of course. I apologize. You wish for me to say that I love you
before you decide."
She
sat back and crossed one leg over the other. "Actually, I don't."
His
eyebrow rose again, this time not in the pleased way that had accompanied her
giving them privacy. "You do
not wish me to say that?"
"Well,
okay, yes, it'll be great to hear you say that. But I already know you love me, now that
I've had time to process what you've said tonight, and I think you know that I
love you."
He
looked as if he was on more solid ground when he nodded and said, "I
do."
"So,
great. We love each other. Now"—she leaned
in—"why the hell do you want me on your team, Ambassador?"
"Ah." He cocked his head and studied her. "I am asking you to leave a prime
post. But one that you have been in
too long, I think."
She waited. If this was how he had to process his way to an answer that
satisfied her, she'd let him.
"My
staff tend to approach diplomatic matters from a prescribed angle. Even the Starfleet officers display a
tendency toward two-dimensional thinking." He leaned in. "We have worked on...six
emergencies together, have we not?"
She
counted back in her head. "Right."
"I
have been impressed by your agility of approach. You rarely expect the emergency to
correspond to your expectations. In
fact, at times I have wondered if you have expectations or are simply flexible
enough to devise a course when you see the playing field. Your solutions are tailored, elegant in
their ability to fit the needs of the people you are focused on. They are solutions that would not work
with other situations, and they may not work again, but they are exactly what
the current need calls for."
She
smiled. "In other words, you
want me on your team for my brains and my talent, not because you want to fuck
me."
"If
sex were all I wanted from you, I would ask you to accompany me as a
spouse. Or we would be together
with you here at Command and I would be frequently absent." He held his hand out to her. "I need you. Your skill, your talent, your enthusiasm
for new situations, your ability to talk to bureaucrats of all levels, your
inability to let such people's intractability or suspicion get in the way of
finding a solution. You will enhance
the performance of my team by far more than you know."
She
reached out and took his hand, didn't resist when he gently pulled her off the
chair and to the couch. She ended
up straddling him. "And will I
enhance your performance?" She
ran her hands through his hair, and he closed his eyes.
"I
believe so."
"Just
believe? You don't know?" She slid her fingers over the points of
his ears, was gratified to hear him moan.
"I know not all Vulcans like to kiss—do you?"
He
opened his eyes, his look annoyed.
"Who told you that? My
son?"
She
laughed and nodded. She couldn't
remember when he'd told her that.
Probably some time early after they'd found Roger the Android, when she'd
been putting the full-court press on Spock.
Sarek
snaked his hand around her neck and eased her toward him. "We will not speak of my son again
tonight."
"Fine
by me."
And
then he was kissing her, and it was nothing like Spock's "I have to do
this even though I am convinced you have a transmittable disease" kiss on Platonius.
Sarek knew what he wanted, and it was clear he wanted it from her.
"Yowza, mister," she said when he finally let her
go.
He
unfastened her gown and slid the straps off her shoulders. "All of my visits here and I have
not yet been in your bedroom. We
should remedy that."
"You're
right. I've been remiss."
"Indeed." Her gown was pooled at her waist, and he
didn't move, despite his supposed wish to see her bedroom. He ran his hands down her waist, then reached behind her, undoing her bra and letting it join
her gown.
"I
seem to be partially naked."
"Yes. It is most appreciated."
She
laughed and kissed him, and this time their kiss was less full of desperate
passion and more...playful. She
wanted this man—more than she'd probably realized—but she also
liked this man. So,
so much.
"You
will work with me?" he asked when she let him go.
"Are
you not going to make love to me if I say no?"
"Responding
to that may sway your decision. Now, answer the question."
"Yes." She kissed him quickly. "Yes, I'll be on your team."
"Excellent." He lifted her, bringing her chest closer
to his mouth—oh God, his mouth.
As he moved from one breast to the other, she moaned and played with his
hair.
He
finally pulled away, and his look was, for a Vulcan, full of affection and
satisfaction. "I have been
wanting to do that for some time."
"Who
knew you were a boob man?" She
tipped his chin up. "As
wonderful as this is—and it is wonderful, and I know you can tell that
since you're a touch telepath."
He
nodded as if guilty as charged.
"You
are overdressed, Sarek. And I want
you inside me. In
the bedroom. Here, on the
couch. I don't care."
"And
again you display the flexibility of thinking I so admire."
She
grinned and lifted herself up so he could pull the gown off; he took her
panties with it. Thinking ahead:
the man would do well in Ops.
"The
disparity is greater now, not less."
She tried to look disapproving, which was more difficult naked than when
clothed. Especially when he was
running his hands over her hips, then detoured to the interior and...there.
"Holy
shit." This wasn't the part of
him she'd envisioned inside her, but he was too talented with his fingers to
make him stop. She was writhing on
top of him in no time, calling out as she rode the pleasure down.
He
kissed her gently, playing with her hair and getting
it out of the bun she'd put it up in.
"Oh
my. So this is a Vulcan in his
prime, huh?" She could
feel evidence of that through his robe.
"Impressive." She
climbed off of him just long enough to remove his robe and make short work of
his undergarments, and then he was easing her back over him and onto—oh,
mother of all that was holy, he felt amazing inside her.
As
they moved together, she buried her head in his shoulder and whispered, "I
love you, Sarek."
"As
I do you, Christine." And then
he eased her off him so she was lying on her back and he could take her from
above.
"So
much for three dimensional, huh?"
"Oh,
it will have its place yet tonight.
But for now, this is what I want."
She
wrapped her legs around him as he began to move faster and harder. "Never let it be said I don't give
you what you want." In bed,
she mentally amended. She could not
let him run roughshod over her any other time.
But in bed.
Ooh la la.
It
was going to be a good damn night.
FIN