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?
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.
"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.