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Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #25
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Cross eyed the contraption with likely less enthusiasm for it than Hathev. While he’d never been in this particular type of hammock, he’d experienced a few hammocks in his time and none of them seemed to agree with him. Or rather his abrupt halt in a heap on the ground next to the hammocks he’d tried didn’t seem to agree with him. But Hathev seemed keen to try and Cross wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. Perhaps this one, sturdier than the others he’d encountered by far, would prove less damaging to his pride and his spine.

Cross was already sipping at his drink as he moved to join her, “I’m not certain if it counts but in one of the mystery holonovels I’ve played through there is a scene where the femme fatale and the detective, share a few moments on something not too dissimilar to this before attacked by her spurned mafia boss ex-lover.” He didn’t hide his wariness as he crawled up into the contraption beside her, heaving a sign once he was settled against the pillows and nothing had spilled out, be it food, pillows, or themselves. “Go again,” Cross instructed Hathev with a smile, happy that she seemed to be relaxing into the moment and the game with more ease than the word association failure on the beach.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #26
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn:  @Ellen Fitz‍ 

It seemed juvenile to play this ‘game’.  To her eye, Hathev saw ‘never have I ever’ as less of a competition and more of an excuse for it’s participants to to consume intoxicating beverages  In her experience adults, and even some juveniles, of their respective species did not need to make excuses for the consumption other than to make themselves feel better and, to a certain extent, Hathev did not believe she needed any excuse to do such a thing other than her personal desire. 

Still, there was very little precedent that she knew of for a Vulcan in her mid-life to begin to lose emotional control outside of a medical diagnosis and while intellectually and physically she might be an adult, but from a standpoint of experiencing, processing and integrating her emotions into her conscious thought process, she was still very much a child.  And so she indulged.

Hathev sifted her position, giving space for Cross to climb on.  The hammock tilted a bit, threatening to drop Hathev to the floor, but Cross’s weight provided a quick counter balance that restored the suspended bed to equilibrium.  As she moved, her bare skin rubbed against the fur lined padding, a sensation that while not completely unknown to  Hathev, was one she did not experience often given the typical Vulcan wardrobe and Starfleet uniforms she often wore.  Even during her marriage to Triss, she did not often allow the exposure of excess skin.  At least now, she could at least begin to understand the frustration her late wife must have experienced.

The sense of grief pushed into her once again, but this time she was prepared and pushed that feeling aside, suppressing it, like a good Vulcan should, if only to allow her to be a bad Vulcan and focus on the emotions that uplifted her spirits.  Oh how she wanted to be a bad Vulcan,

Once Cross had settled himself in the hammock, Hathev took her next turn.

“For the record, Mr. Cross,” she said, “experiences on the holodeck or other virtual reality environments do not count for the purposes of this game.”  She paused before she took her next turn.

“Never have I ever operated the weapon systems of a starship.”

It was a ‘low blow’, she knew but she also knew that if the point of this exercise was, at least in part, to become intoxicated, she could not continue providing prompts to Cross.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #27
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

“Duly noted Ms. Hathev,” Cross lifted his glass in her direction and gave her a salute before sipping at the drink. She’d played dirty with her comment but he could do that as well. “I just remembered that you’re only allowed to go two times in a row before the round automatically switches to another person.” His eyes gleamed with mischief at his obvious fib but that didn’t stop him from continuing, “Never have I ever been to Vulcan.”

And it was true. While his mentors had invited Cross to track down the genetic donors of his Bajoran and Vulcan DNA, Cross had refused. He was neither Bajoran nor Vulcan. He was himself. While there were aspects of both cultures he appreciated, and other aspects he loathed, Cross felt less kinship for the planets and their people than he did for a starship and Starfleet. He was curious what Hathev’s thoughts would be on the matter, how she would respond to the reality that for Cross, his future life would forever been entangled with the Fleet, but now was not the time for such discussions. The sweetness of their drinks, even diluted, was enough to ease away any earlier residual anxiety leftover from the breakdown on the beach. A pleasant thrum was pulsing in his veins, far from inebriation, but a distinct relaxation was born on the sweet edges of the juice.

He appreciated Hathev’s body as she displayed it for him, reclining on the hammock. Not for the first time, Cross was struck mute, only barely paying attention to Hathev’s response, when memories of their coupling returned. How in the hell had he managed to get her attention? And not only that, but what the fuck did he do right to get her in his arms? Cross blinked. It took him a few breaths, and close observation of Hathev’s expression, to realize he’d spoken his thoughts aloud instead of keeping quiet for the game.

Snorting at his own abrupt nature, Cross sighed, saluting Hathev once more with his glass before taking a longer sip. “I am curious, what is it about me that intrigues you so much you’d even want to experience this with me?”

He wasn’t exactly speaking from an inferiority complex. Cross knew he was a capable officer and a damned good friend. His experiences with women led him to believe that more than a few found him attractive, and it was his own nature that kept things from progressing further than verbal flirtation—though most of the details of such things went far over his head and he only realized the reality much later and much too late. But Cross was truly curious about Hathev’s interest. If someone had told him months ago that this woman would be lying beside him like this, Cross would have laughed over another glass of gin. They were from entirely different worlds, literally and figuratively, so it wasn’t so strange for Cross to draw back from the playfulness of the situation to seriously contemplate the how and the why of it all.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #28
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

Hathev nodded, ingratiating Cross’s toast and acknowledging his change of the rules.  She suspected he was ‘winging it’ and making up these so called rules as he went, but she decided not to challenge him on it.  She took a sip of her drink in response to his statement for their game and sat back, waiting for his next prompt. 

But it did not come in the form of a statement, but rather a question; one about them and the why of their relationship.  Not only did it surprise her, but it surprised her that it surprised her.  How illogically redundant, she concluded.

The answer to his query was, somewhat complex of course.  He had been her patient once  when she’d first come aboard, and in an attempt to render therapeutic aid she’d attempted a mind meld with Cross.  She had been unprepared for the intensity of his feelings and in both cases the emotional back lash had caused intense blow back, first on him, then on her.  She hadn’t been ‘right’ since then  Something about that meld seemed to have broken her ability to fully suppress her emotional self.  That had left her susceptible.

As a rule Mindmelds were inherently intimate.  While not sexual in nature the practice permitted each participant to touch the inner most thoughts of the other, a sharing that could run so deep and personal that no other exchange could even begin to replicate.  In a relatively brief period of time, willing participants could learn and understand years of experience, thoughts, and, yes, emotions.  That sharing combined with her damaged suppression, had left a permanent impression on her, that she could not ignore.

“Despite their unintended consequences,” she began, “the Mind melds you and I shared allowed me to see you in a new way.  My affection for you has long since transcended that of mere respect of a fellow officer and into something more, I’ve come to realize that I care for you very deeply, and that I enjoy,” she paused for emphasis, “truly enjoy, the time I am able to spend with you.  Despite your faults, I find you to be a very caring person.  Attentive to those around you, stalwart in your duties, and someone who makes others, myself included, feel safer and well,” she paused again, “loved when they are in your presence.’

She stopped there, unsure of where all that had come from, but certain that she meant every word she had just uttered.  Still she sensed an awkwardness In the room, one she wanted to go away,

“Never have I ever said that to anyone else.”

She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to or not, but she finished her drink all the same.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #29
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

“Well,” Cross took in a deep breath, held it, then spoke on a sigh, “fuck me.”

He remembered the disastrous mind meld and was still floored that this beautiful woman was even interested in giving him a glance, let alone snuggling her flesh next to him on a deserted island. He thought he’d cocked it up worse than anyone could ever cock anything up, making him the cocking up cock winner of the year. Yet, here she spoke of who, despite the cockery, something good had come from that. If being an emotionally compromised Vulcan was considered a good thing. Cross frowned, his thoughts turning darker despite the reassurances she offered as she commended his character.

“Do you think the screw-up in that mind meld may have implanted false feelings or thoughts inside you? Made you predisposed to be attracted to me? Or,” he glanced up at her from his previous glare at the glass clutched between his fingers, “whether that and the rest of the shock of losing loved ones and the attack combined pushed you into intimacy with me that, under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have otherwise pursued?”

Hathev knocked back her drink after alluding to the half-forgotten game, an attempt at light-hearted playfulness in the face of serious undertones. Cross squeezed his eyes shut and followed suit, letting the sweet liquid course over his tongue and swirl in his mouth a moment before swallowing the gulp. He thought over his questions and sighed. Fuck. None of this was coming out right. Fuckety fuck.

“Nevermind, Hathev. That wasn’t a fair set of questions. Under ‘normal’ circumstances, neither of us would be here now, would we? You’d still have your wife and son, and I’d still be…whatever the fuck I was or am. Blue would still be around, but then so would her husband, and yeah,” Cross shook his head firmly as if he could shake the thoughts from his mind, “going down that rabbit hole won’t do any good.”

He carefully shifted on the suspended furniture so he could face Hathev more fully, studying the angles of her face, and curves of her body.

“Though you didn’t ask, I’ll tell you that you’re more than just my first fuck.” Cross frowned, dropped his head, cursed himself for his lack of poetry, and then continued with a steadier voice. “I’ve always liked your forthright nature, attention to detail, and professional demeanor through a crisis. Unflappable and thorough are two character traits I find very noteworthy and worthy of respect. That those traits are packaged like this,” he kept his gaze locked with hers but gestured to her body, “pleased me immensely. And I like the challenge and mystery being with you holds. I don’t quite know what comes next, but instead of being intimidated by that, I am intrigued.”

Taking her empty glass, as well as his own, and setting them aside, Cross returned to his semi-reclined position. He reached out and lightly traced fingers over the back of her hand.

“Did I screw up again?”

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #30
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

For as much as she had not wanted to consider the circumstances of how they came together, Cross’s question presented as a very fair and, yes, logical question.  It was also a question for which she had no answer.  Yes, things between them might be different had the mind melds not gone as poorly as they had and the incident had certainly created a spark of intimacy between the two of them.  But then she recalled what she often advised her own patients.

“Intimacy between two sentient individuals does not tend to last if there is nothing to fuel it,” she responded. “Can I say for sure what would have happened had that mind meld not occurred, no.  But had there been no desire on either of our parts it would have… as the humans say… ‘fizzled out’.  I tend to believe that, if anything, the meld accelerated our inevitable joining by handing us a firm ground upon which to build our relationship as opposed to our having to find and build it ourselves.”

She shifted, rolling towards Cross slightly and pulling him in to her so his head rested on her breast.  His weight on top of her warmed her like a quilt on a cold winter’s night back on Earth and though her bathing suit prevented direct skin to skin contact, she could almost sense his thoughts.

“Ultimately,” she continued softly.  “If you were my patient I would advise that you not endeavor to over think the situation, but rather enjoy what is in front of you and see where it leads.”

She tried to make her tone sound more kind and helpful than patronizing.  If he was worried that he had screwed up, the comment about not dwelling, might be misinterpreted.  She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his back, and allowing her free leg to hook around both of his.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #31
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

It occurred to Cross that while he had longer experience with emotions, Hathev’s vocation had been for controlling them—and in her personal case, suppressing them. This led to another thought, that of bemusement, at the semi-patronizing manner in which she pulled his head to her chest and all but hushed him away from the serious discussion he’d inadvertently broached. Of course, she likely hadn’t meant to come across as patronizing or chastising—she was an “infant” with emotional expression after all—yet, the adult man side of Cross bristled at the implication and wanted to prove his manliness to her. In contrast, the child-man side wanted to sulk against her chest while she stroked her fingers over his skin.

Before he raised his head from her chest in what seemed futile to find resolution beyond mere physicality—a strange development for Cross—a flash memory had him frozen in place. During one of his holonovel excursions with Kai, the pair of them playing private investigators looking for the murderer of a rich crime boss, he remembered with more than a little arousal how one of the female characters—a femme fatal—had offered to give him information only if he submitted to her whims. The only reason the woman hadn’t gone all the way in “having her way” with Cross, tied up and vulnerable to her every move as he was on her bed, was because Kai had discovered evidence that she was the murderer and prevented the woman’s “murder” of Cross by putting a bullet between her eyes just before she could sink a holographic knife into Cross’ chest.

Aside from the concept of restraints being used to assist in getting more satisfactory answers or responses, there was no correlation between that memory and the present situation. Perhaps even support his desire to prove himself to Hathev in a fashion…exert his manliness over her femininity. Or rather, more accurately, his emotional expression over her continued sense of emotional control despite her stated desire to learn how to express her emotions. What better way to bring her to bring of emotional expression than to follow in the footsteps—relatively—of the femme fatal who’d taught him the benefit of restraint usage in the bedroom.

Cross used his superior strength to pull away from Hathev. However, he did so with gentleness and gave her a playful smile once he caught her gaze, “I have an idea for how to move forward with your emotional expression training and that may also help me find more clarity in what’s going on between us. And, I know from personal experience the process can be quite enjoyable, pleasurable, and enlightening. If you trust my judgment on this, follow me, and lose the suit.”

Trying to escape the hanging death trap without looking like an idiot was impossible. But out he crawled and, with one last lingering look over Hathev’s enticing form, Cross went inside the bungalow to find the closest equivalents to four restraints he could secure to the headboard and footboard of the bed along with something that could be used for a blindfold. He’d improvise for the other items, remembering how the woman had used feathers, cloths, and even the sting of a belt on his body to drive him wild. As he gathered the materials and strategically placed them just in case, Cross wondered if Hathev would follow his lead or suggest something more known and tame for her “lessons.”

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #32
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz

Hathev arched an eyebrow as Cross offered up his next idea.  She had not expected him to pull away from her, gently though he had.  For her place she would have been content to lay with him in her embrace and see where things went from there.  She watched quietly as he padded out, heading to the bedroom uncertain of what to make of him.  His use of the phrase ‘help me find more clarity’ implied that her answer to him had not been to his satisfaction.  That, she decided, was troubling.

The female vulcan also knew that she was not preared to ‘lose the suit’ even in the figurative sense.  The garment was comfortable on her and she welcomed the way in which it presented her figure.  But she did trust Cross’s judgement and did not wish to indicate anything to the contrary.  So, she climbed out of the hammock, making a mental note to revisit it before the end of their stay.  The counselor followed after cross, her graceful movement keeping her stride smooth and steady.

She found him in the bedroom, rummaging around, pulling sashes off of robes and cataloging them.  Hathev hadn’t even realized that robes of various styles, fabrics and sizes had been provided.  But as he looked through them, pulling the sashes out of their loops, examining them, he seemed to settle on four longer thinner sashes, before pulling a fifth, this one wider than the others.

Hathev was not naive and having counseled many patients over the years, and hearing about their various sexual fettishes, she suspected she knew what was on Cross’s mind.  It was less clear, however, what was on her own mind and for a brief moment she debated which was more important; her sense of uncertainty when it came to this practice, or her desire to trust in her partner.  For her to do this, she would have to give something up; something that mattered most to her as it did to her people as a whole -

Self Control.

Such a fundamental requirement of all Vulcans.  She’d lived her life, as all Vulcans did under a sense of self control.  It sat at the foundation of dicipline, of logic, of everything.  Had her people not learned to control their emotions…

For as illogical as it seemed, Hathev could see and appreciate Cross’s logic.  If she was ever going to learn how to express her emtions properly, she first needed to learn how to let go of some of that control.

She took in a ragged breath, one she had not known she was holding in.  Reaching down, she released the snaps on the crotch and pulled the suit up, off her breasts, and into her hand before uncermoniously dropping it to the floor.  She let herself lean on the door frame, one arm upstretched on the frame itself while the other sat on her hip.

“As it would seem I am about to become your captive, Sir,” she said with what she hoped was a ‘playful’ tone in her voice, “there are two things you need to know.  First, my safeword is ‘starfire’.  Second,” she paused for affeect as she willed her voice to come off a bit more serious though still somewhat playful.  “Under no circumstances are we to mind meld while I am bound.  I am not willing to risk either of us having a violent outburst." 

It was a prudent demand, she decided.  Logical and, given their history, safe.  If something happened and he lashed out, despite his best intentions, she would literally be helpless to defend herself.  Similarly, if she turned violent, the restraints would potentially exacerbate the situation.  Either way she stood to come out of either scenario badly injured or worse.  Without question, an unacceptable outcome.

"Beyond that, you may do with, and to, me whatever you wish for as long as you wish it.”

She honestly was unsure of how Cross would respond to her submissive self making such a statement, but also trusted him to respect her requirements given how little she was asking in exchange for how much she was offering.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #33
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

The proper paraphernalia selected, Cross looked up toward Hathev’s voice, half expecting her to be dressed and ready to call the boat back. But then he felt his stomach drop out of his body at the sight of her glorious nude body leaning against the doorframe in a similar pose Cross had seen Orion temptresses take when luring in their next victim. Her teasing tone of voice furthered his imagination and desire, reminding him of the ludicrous romantic drivel he’d read to her during her recovery and inspiring him for what they could do during their “therapy” session.

Cross nodded at mentioning the safe word, letting the serious reminder cool down the fire in his blood, allowing him to release the tension of his grip on the blindfold in his hands. He also agreed with her request, no demand, that they refrain from melding. In truth, Cross would be perfectly happy never to meld again in his lifetime if he could help it. After their last encounter and the fuckery that’d happened as a result, Cross couldn’t help but think his brokenness and failure as a Vulcan rendered him the worst meld partner for any right-minded Vulcan, especially Hathev. Cross knew enough about Vulcan mating practices to realize it was a go-to for Vulcan to meld during the fever. However, he’d managed to get through his fevers without melding before—granted, that was before the fucktard Savi had “corrected” him and now there was fuck-all to know about how he’d handle a pon far now.

“I agree to your terms.” Cross gestured to the bed with his cybernetic hand. “Lay down, your arms and legs close to the bedposts. I will first restrain your wrists and ankles and allow you to accustom yourself to the restraints before blindfolding you.”

He stepped back as Hathev walked past. Cross desperately wanted to cup her breasts, weigh them in her hands, as he ran his tongue along the rip of her nipple, sucking the tip between his teeth while his fingers dove into the velvety wetness between her legs. But that was not what they needed right now. Cross swallowed the lump in his throat and took great pains to be gentle in securing her ankles first—gaze darting up the length of her legs to the folds of her sex—before moving likewise to restrain her wrists—this time letting his gaze move from her slender fingers down to rise and fall of her chest. Blindfold still in hand, Cross pulled his hands back to his sides to resist the temptation to touch her more than he intended at this juncture of their “therapy” and took a steadying breath.

“Are you ready for the blindfold?” He could hear the heavy lust in his own voice and knew Hathev could easily smell his desire and hear it. The openness of his yearning for her, and knowing she was accepting of it without ridicule, gave Cross a jolt of confidence as he waited for her permission to go to the next stage.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #34
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

Hathev complied with the implied instruction to lay down on the bed and, as she sat down, she slipped the elastic band around her hair and pulled it into a high tail, one that would sit more towards the top of her head and look almost gauche but for the circumstances. As she would be laying down, the higher tail would allow her head to rest comfortably while keeping her hair in some semblance of control and and make it easier for him to blindfold her as he had stated was his intent. Also, should he chose to utilize it in such a way, the tail would also provide ample leverage for Cross as well. Of course, he could remove the elastic easily enough, not that she would be able to do anything about it while under his care.

She pushed the pillow out of the way and gently laid back, spreading her arms and legs out a bit. Her positioning was not to his liking as he had her move her ankles and wrists closer to the respective bed posts before he began work on her left leg.

Between the moment the fabric of the tie downs first touched her left ankle to the moment he had finished fully restraining all four of her limbs, Hathev came to realize three things. First, that he had said he would start with her wrists but had, in fact started with her ankles. She considered that perhaps he had said ‘wrists and ankles’ more casually than she had expected.

Second she realized that even though the restraints were not so tight as to prevent any movement whatsoever, insufficient slack existed for her to do anything but shift her position by a few centimeters. With her limbs stretched, her elbows and knees fully extended, she could not touch her own body, to say nothing about freeing herself and the materials made of the strips he had chosen were strong enough that they would likely not break if she attempted to utilize her strength. In short, she was locked in the spread eagle position into which Cross had bound her, until he deemed otherwise. Which gave rise to the third realization.


She found the sensation curious at first. They were only minutes into this exercise, and as Hathev realized she was well and truly helpless now, the sense of anxiety rose in her faster than a warp core breach. She was trapped. Helpless. She had no control over anything that Cross did not chose to provide. She was fully dependent on him and despite her logical self telling her she was safe with him, despite the trust she had for him, the sense of anxiety would not abate.

Yet mixed in with the anxiety was another sensation, one that coursed through her from her womanhood up to and through her chest.  She felt the skin around her breasts tighten, her exposed nipples harden.  What was this?  Was this…sexual anticipation?

She fought with herself, tugging gently on the restraints as anxiety and anticipation flowed, mixed, became one.  She did not know if this was normal, if this was expected.  All she knew was that she wanted…she desired…to see this through further.

Hathev took in a ragged breath as she calmed her inner self so that she would not appear anxious in front of Cross and then, after a moment, she finally spoke.

“I am ready.”

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #35
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Cross remained still, observing with a poised awareness to spring into action if Hathev showed any signs of distress. Though he could read a flicker of alarm in the corner of her eyes, she otherwise showed no outward signs of worry. In fact, her words, when spoken, were uttered in a determined tone that had Cross gulping. He gave into the desire to brush his lips against her forehead and offer her a reassuring smile before he blindfolded her.

Reminding himself of her safe word—starfire—Cross glanced at his assortment of items. He settled a downy-tipped twig, something he’d pulled from one of the decorative vases scattered throughout the bungalow. It wasn’t exactly a feather, but the soft texture at the end of the twig would likely have a similar effect. Turning back to face his paramour secured to the bed, Cross paused momentarily to memorize the sight. The sight of the hardened tips of her nipples made his mouth water. His gaze moved down her naked torso to the folds of her sex, and he felt the weight of his balls, his cock twitching with anticipation.

After a steadying breath—more so to keep from pouncing on Hathev—Cross began the “therapy” he’d promised her. His movements were slow, methodical, and without meaning to, he fell into an almost predictable pattern. Starting with the sensitive skin on the interior of her left wrist, Cross zigzagged the downy tip over her forearm, swished it back and forth in the juncture of her elbow, then continued the journey on to her shoulder, where he repeated the swishing gesture in and out of her armpit. He divided his attention between watching how her skin responded to the touch, listening to her breathing, and staying alert for any indication of discomfort.

Finished with the one arm, Cross silently shifted down to the foot of the bed, pushing the downy tip between each toe on Hathev’s right foot. He flipped the twig and used the hardened edge of the opposite end to draw small circles on the bottom of her foot, pausing every so often to glance up the statuesque length of her body to study her face. Only after being assured of no anxiety did he skip over her ankle area and instead swished the downy end of the twig over her kneecap and dipped inward to her inner thigh. He trailed it up her leg, stopping just shy of her sex.

Watching her chest rise and fall with her breathing proved too much for Cross at this point. Leaning down, he pulled her right nipple between his lips and licked the tip of his tongue around the edge of her nipple. Though distracted by the taste of her skin and the feeling of satisfaction at finally having her breast in his mouth, Cross was careful to move the twig away, now lightly dragging the hardened edge across the sensitive flesh of her lower abdomen. It took a goodly amount of willpower to pull back from her breast and look back up to her face, his warm breath fanning out on the skin still damp from his attention.

“Describe your experiences now, Hathev.” Cross leaned down and pressed one last kiss to her breast before resuming his twig-centric attention to her body, tracing the tip around her belly button and moving it up through the valley between her breasts.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #36
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

Hathev took in a breath as she willed her body to relax.  While she had some slack to shift, there was not much to work with.  The added complication of the blindfold built up the sense of anticipation as she heard Cross move within the room. 

Then she felt it, soft gently drawing up her arm, then her foot, toes, a firmer press on her the bottom of her foot.  For the briefest of moments she felt, and suppressed a quiver in her body as he drew up her inner thigh, the softness returning and a sense of anticipation rose in her…anticipation that was not satisfied in the way she anticipated.  His breath on her breast tipped his hand and this time when her body shuddered and quivered as his lips found her breast, not only did she not suppress it, but she did not even make the attempt.  Wetness touched her hardened nipple and her hand moved by instinct to cover herself only to come to an abrupt halt as the leash around her wrist pulled tight.  The instrument…implement he was using scratched ever so gently down towards her abdomen.

“Describe your experiences now, Hathev.”

His words, not a demand, not a request, something different.  She felt him drink of her breast again, and the light scratching returned making its’ way back up her belly towards her chest.  Again, she shuddered, as the muscles in her back tightened and arched, the weight of her breasts shifting just enough to plump.


It was the only word she could muster.  For as disciplined a mind as she had cultivated over the years, she found herself at a loss for adequate descriptors.  But then as she focused on the instruction, the answers started to come back to her.

She sensed the warmth growing within her, growing in a way that she had never truly experienced before as her body ached with a wanting that she could satiate but for the restraints.  Damn him for preventing her from having what she wanted…what she desired.  But even so… there was not anger.

“Erotic,” she said as the words came to her.  “A desire for more.  A sense of anticipation for what you will do next.  A wanting for that which you have denied me.  Frustration that I can not act on these desires.”

She paused, licking her lips and closing her mouth to re-moisten what had dried out due to her heavier breathing. 

“Pleasure, anticipation, and…” her voice trailed off as she struggled to name the emotion.  “Yearning.  All of it truly…”

Her voice cut out as another quiver took her and she arched.  This time her body seemed to lock as the contraction pulled limbs into a tug of war between her muscles and the restraints.  She did not, could not breathe, could not speak, could only just be.  Her disciplined mind ticked of nearly thirty seconds before her back finally released and she flopped back to the bed like a restrained heap.  The only word in her comprehension, that which she had already stated, came out in a gasp as her lungs took in a breath.


Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #37
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Cross was just as fascinated in watching Hathev respond to the circumstances as she was in analyzing them. Her beautifully formed body laid out as a feast for his eyes and, later, his hands and mouth. For now, Cross abandoned the feather in favor of something a bit more visceral. As Hathev recovered from the momentary seizure of…something – Cross had almost released her bonds, uncertain if the tension in her body had been a signal to stop until she’d spoken again – Cross picked up the still-warm damp cloth from the bedside stand. As she hadn't said her safe word yet, Cross was determined to continue. Not only was he enjoying this unrestricted access to her body, but he had to believe it was helping her in some fashion as well. Before he moved to the opposite side of the bed, thinking to press the rag first to the softened skin of her palm, Cross waved one of the tropical blooms below Hathev’s nostrils. The heady scent had nearly intoxicated Cross when he’d first smelled them in their decorative vase nearest the washroom. Since her sense of smell was stronger than his, Cross presumed it would likely have a stronger impact on her senses.

“What do you yearn for?” Cross asked as he pulled the bloom apart, dropping the soft petals across Hathev’s chest and trailing them down her belly to her mons, making sure at least one petal perched on each nipple. Stepping back to admire the sight a moment, Cross smirked to himself as he took up the rag again and moved to his position near her opposite wrist.

Giving her the time to process his question, as well as the new sensations, Cross occupied himself with tapping the warm cloth against each finger of her left hand, drawing a circle with it in the center of her palm, before silently shifting to repeat a similar process on her left foot. When he next drew the rag up her thigh and over her hip bone, Cross bent down and kissed the inside of her elbow. Cross was intentionally foregoing a pattern this round, trying to mix up the touches and locations to see if that would cause another building of tension and release with the Vulcan woman or if it would trigger something else.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #38
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

Although she had not said the safeword nor had she yet considered doing so, Hathev was grateful for the momentary respite from Cross’s teasings as it allowed her a moment to calm herself and regain her senses.  Not that she expected to be able to hold onto them for long when Cross started again, of course.  But the moment to ‘breathe’ as a Human might put it was welcome.

The respite ended almost as suddenly as it had started as the fragrant scent hit her, almost overwhelming her immediately.  It was not unwelcome.  To the contrary, the Vulcan found the scent quite pleasant and almost intoxicating, but given her naturally strong sense of smell combined with the added acuity as a result of being denied her sight.  She took in, her deep breaths drinking in the scent, filling her lungs, and forcing her chest to rise.  Cross could not see them, but she felt her eyes roll up as her head lolled back, as though she were inebriated.  A contented moan escaped her lips.

“What do you yearn for?”

Cross’ voice fell silent. 

The answer to his query should have been simple should have been a response driven by logic, but Hathev found it difficult to think, to understand her own thoughts much less process them into a coherent response.

The lightest of sensations touched the flesh of her chest and then in sequence flashed down her stomach, on top of her nipples, and over her pubic region.  Too light to be held, slightly moist, and that fragrance… growing stronger, continuing to cloud her mind. 

Illogical.  Desirable.  Unacceptable.  Necessary.  It must stop.  Do not stop.  Take control.  Control was conceded.  Suppress the emotional response.  Let come what may.  Invoke the safe word.  Let the experience play out.  Rationalize the experience….  No.  Enjoy the experience…

It is illogical.

But it is desirable.

Warmth on her left hand.  She pulled way, but the restraint bound her to his whim and she felt the frustration at her inability to interact with him as the warmth moved from finger to finger, circling in her palm before disappearing…

Could she end the encounter.  Yes.  Would doing so be the safest course?  Probably.  Should she?  Likely.  Would she?


What do you yearn for?

What indeed? 

The warmth returned to return to her left foot and disappear again before it returned to her left thigh and her hip.  The muscles of her left leg tensed and stretched involuntarily and she felt her toes splay open briefly before relaxing.

Then the warmth of his breath and then lips on her inner elbow.  She reached for him, flexing the elbow instinctively knowing where his head had to be but the restraint on her wrist pulled tight and stopped her before she could get her arm perpendicular to the bed to which she was tied.

Again she pulled against the restraints, an involuntary seizure of the muscles in her limbs as they tried to encircle Cross and hold him to her, but they held her in place and she ceased her struggle.  Oh how she wished to be freed so that she could engage with him, but this treatment from Cross, she did not wish for it to end.

What do you yearn for?

The words escaped her lips in ragged breaths.




Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #39
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Though she hadn’t meant in quite the fashion he chose to respond with, Cross repeated the same type of touches on the opposite side of her body as she requested balance. As for “more,” Cross smiled to himself as he darted from the room for the few seconds it took to grab something from the kitchen area. Dribbling a circle around her navel, Cross eagerly licked away the local version of honey, eyes traveling up the undulating expanse of her ribs, over the crest of her bosom, to watch Hathev’s face as she responded to the new touch. Smearing a small dollop on his index finger, Cross pushed away from Hathev’s body to lightly dab the sweet amber liquid against her lips before he gleefully dropped a few drops on each breast, with a thin trail connecting her breasts to her clavicle.

“Do you see colors?” Cross’ voice was lower in pitch as he whispered his words against her skin, tongue tickling across her skin, starting at the juncture between neck and shoulder and laving open, lightly sucking kisses onward to the start of the honey trail. “Images?” Cross paused in his honey trail journey to study her, still marveling that this beautiful woman was his to behold and touch. “Share with me, Hathev.”

Cross drew a honey-glazed nipple into his mouth and couldn’t help but groan in pleasure as the pebbled peak fit perfectly between his lips, his tongue tracing over the nub as it licked away the honey. As he turned his attention to the trail connecting her breasts, Cross lightly traced his fingers against the curve of her cheek with his left hand while his right softly kneaded her thigh muscle. He didn’t know how much longer he could take this…session. Cross believed it benefited them both, yet his cock was thick with blood and his balls heavy, ready to be emptied.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #40
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

Truth be told, Hathev was quietly grateful for the brief respite.  Cross’s ministrations were causing a flood of sensation and emotions for which she was not fully prepared.  To a certain extent, it was made worse by her inability to stop whatever it was he had in mind.

No.  That, she realized, was incorrect.  It was not her inability to stop this encounter; it was her unwillingness to stop it.

The session resumed as she felt something around her naval, then his tongue again.  She took in a gasping breath, sharp but calm as the sensations coursed around her, and was more than ready to take in the offering he had placed on her lips.  She could not place the sticky sweetness, but it only added to her intoxication and she welcomed it.

He teased her more before questioning her.

It was not until he had brought the idea of seeing colors or images until Cross had mentioned it, but almost as soon as he did, she realized she was.

“It is difficult to describe.  It is as though I am able to see something.  Colors would not be the correct description but it,” her voice trailed off and she shifted in place as she tried in vain to find a slightly more comfortable position.  She was not in pain per se, but she would not have objected to even a minor change in body position.  Still she had willingly conceded her freedom to Cross for as long as he wished, and unless or until there was an emergency, she would not terminate the experience.

“I would best describe it as a psychedelic experience, but it plays out against a dark background.”

She considered for another moment, as she tried to shift again, her bare ass sliding against the bedsheets.

“Is this a side affect of intoxication?”

She had no real frame of reference to know for certain. But she knew enough that it seemed less and less important to her that she remained the quiet and conservative Vulcan that had become a hallmark of her species.  She had no explicit desire to act out, but she also realized that she did not necessarily care, if she said or did something out of character.

“This,” she said, “is proving to be a fascinating experience.  I find myself uncertain, and to a certain extent apprehensive about what you are doing and have yet to do to and with me.  I know I can chose to end this at any time, but at the same time, I have no desire to do so.”

Hathev lifted her head, towards where logic dictated Cross was in relation to her.

“I know you well enough to know that in this moment and given what I’m saying that you might chose to end this out of concern for me..  Please,” she implored, “do not end this prematurely on my account.  I would not object to more variety in what you do to me and the way in which you have me bound. But ultimately I have offered myself to your will for as long as you desire, and I have no desire to withdraw from that agreement.”

She sighed and fell silent as her head lowered back, and she awaited his response.  In those silent moments, she came to the realization that her intoxication, such that it was, had induced what other species might call ‘word vomit’ and such an incident might have ruined the moment.

Apparently she wasn’t intoxicated enough to truly not care.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #41
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Hathev’s question had Cross raising his eyebrows, thinking back over what they’d had to drink earlier. The drinks had been sweet but far from the sucrose-laden beverages that had shed their inhibitions and led to them fucking. While it was possible Hathev was feeling tipsy unless she had a much lower tolerance than he’d earlier suspected, he doubted she was truly intoxicated. Maybe…Cross angled his head to study the Vulcan woman as she pulled against the restraints. Maybe it was easier to claim intoxication to shield herself from the reality of feeling these things in her mostly rational mind?

Her ensuing confession, or rather, instructions for how she wished them to continue, was spoken in such a circling manner. It showed Cross that she was certainly feeling their drinks more readily than he but was not yet fully intoxicated. Even though she couldn’t see him, Cross still nodded at her request.

“Very well, Hathev,” he pressed the tips of his fingers against the flesh of her thigh, pulling them down the length of her leg as he stepped closer to her ankles. “I won’t stop.”

He didn’t warn her that he would change things up, though. He deftly undid her right ankle, and then her left, but instead of letting her legs remain free, he angled her knees outward and slid her feet together. Cross put a hand towel against her thin flesh before wrapping the restraint around her ankles. Now she lay with the pads of her feet pressed together, knees draped open. Because of this angle, and the weight of her knees pulling on her hips, Cross could see more of her sex, even the beginnings of the slit of her ass. He smiled, appreciating the view. It was still a vulnerable position, but he supposed it created a different type of vulnerability. He’d merely wanted to upset the norm before doing anything else.

Next, coming up to her wrists, again dragging his fingers along her supple flesh as he moved parallel to her position, Cross undid her left wrist from the bedpost. He had to lean for and wrap an arm around her torso to assist her in sitting up more against the bed's headboard before he re-secured her wrist to the headboard above her head. Again, Cross wasn't so clinical in his efforts that he didn't indulge their proximity. Before moving away to repeat the same process with her other hand, Cross dipped his head down and kissed her. His tongue traced over the soft flesh of her lips, barely tasting her, and pulling away before she could work to deepen the connection.

After another pause, this time to cup one of her breasts, weighing it in his hand while his thumb passed over the pebbled nipple, Cross quickly moved around to the other side to repeat the process, sans kiss and fondling. Her body had been cocked at an odd angle, but nothing stretched so far as to be painful. Now that both arms were above her head, not hyper-extended to prevent discomfort, and her back arched and supported by the pillows stuffed between her body and the headboard, Cross figured the position was different enough so he could start over in a sense.

“Where do you want me to touch you, Hathev?” Cross decided on a different approach, engaging Hathev’s desires more directly instead of merely indulging himself.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #42

[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

Hathev shuddered as Cross touched her and began moving her into a different position.  She took the opportunity to flex her limbs and stretch the muscles as he released them, but she did not fight him as he repositioned her, taking in a contented sigh at the new position.  She wasn’t sure how she felt about having to hold her arms up, but thy felt as though there was enough slack in the line that she could be comfortable.

“Where do you want me to touch you, Hathev?”

The Vulcan considered her answer before responding.  Her head swam with the intoxication from the fragrances and a part of her wanted to ask for more, but at the same time, she decided to ride the sensation and let it play out as it would.  It was, perhaps, a bit more fatalistic than typical for a Vulcan, but given the circumstances it seemed both logical and appropriate.

Instead, she considered the question.  He had been all over her body as far as she could sense, but there were a few places where she wanted him, one of which she figured would happen sooner or later.  But there was another place that, for now at least, ranked higher.

“Kiss me.”

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #43
[ Captain Ruz Bollix | Pirate vessel qu'DuHSum | BIQ'a'bIng Ocean | Qo’Nos ] ATNN: @P.C. Haring

The terror of the BIQ'a'bIng Ocean -- or at least, that's how he'd described his ship and crew to that delectable strumpet back at that nameless village they'd last supplied at -- bobbed in the crystal clear waters just a few yards from shore. His intel officer, Ubosha G'gansun, had marked this private island for high-value targets over the next few days, and they had come calling to make good on the tip. These ridiculous private villas, catering to off-world fops, were the perfect hit for Captain Ruz and his crew. Off worlder's were unlikely to be accidentally related to you -- that had been an awkward long-time coming family reunion -- and they were less likely to have been a former lover -- that had also been more than a little inconvenient. They'd already managed to collect on the ransom for a Benzite couple some months' past and the time before that they'd swooped in while the Ferengi couple was out on an excursion and made off with all their left-behind loot -- they'd had a devil of a time cracking into those damned Ferengi safes though and had to haul the whole contraptions onto the ship to get away in time. While the qu'DuHSum was invisible to all planet-side sensors, it could still be spotted with the naked eye, and so far in his pirating career, Captain Ruz Bollix hadn't had to kill a fellow Klingon to keep his ship and his crew a secret. Yet another reason why he preferred these private islands that were teeming with off worlder's, made it easier on his conscience -- what he had left of one -- when someone got hurted bad enough to be killed.

"L'soss," Captain Ruz called for his first mate's attention, "alert Weapons Officer Orc that we will need two long boats worth of weapons for this island. According to G'gansun's report, the occupants on this island may put up a bit of a fight."

"Aye sir," L'soss left to do the captain's bidding, leaving the near toothless Klingon pirate to sneer at the targeted island, almost hoping the off worlder's there would indeed put up a fight just so he could try out some of the new gadgets he'd bought off the black market from those Orions.

[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos ]

Cross didn't bother trying to put up a resistance to Hathev's request for a kiss. In one swift motion, he had his lips pressed against hers, fairly drinking the woman down with his passionate fervor. So wrapped up in her scent, her taste, the feel of her naked flesh beneath his fingers that he almost didn't hear the distant, very much uninvited voices. However, there was enough of his tactical mind still unmushed with lust that Cross pulled away from Hathev's kiss and wordlessly padded to the closest window. His gaze quickly traveled over the incoming forms of scraggly dressed Klingons, each armed with a number of nasty-looking, very much illegal weapons, as they beached their almost archaic-looking longboats and began to wade ashore, fanning out to breach the villa on three sides...if Cross let them.

"Change of plan," likely Hathev had heard the growling Klingon voices by now as well as the new firm tone in Cross' voice as he returned to the bed and made quick work of the ropes around her feet, "we need to get out of here, and fast. Two dozen Klingons are headed our way, and they do not look like friendlies." Her ankles were free, as was her left hand, but the knots of the right hand tightened instead of loosened. Without pausing to warn her, Cross ripped that portion of the headboard away from the wall and broke off enough of the section of it that she could hold it in hand as they fled, allowing them time to get it off later if they survived. "They're coming in from the north, east, and west sides presently. Head out the south end and go into the jungle. Go straight through to the other side and wait on the beach for me. Don't stop to look back. I'll be right behind you."

With a not-so-subtle physical push for her to do as he indicated, Cross turned his back on her to make ready as much of a welcome for their uninvited guests as he had time for. Granted, they'd only brought their combadges, which they'd use once they were out of immediate danger, but were otherwise unarmed. Draping whatever clothing of his and Hathev's he could quickly grab, Cross next moved to the kitchen and set the timer on every appliance he could find to go off at different intervals. Next he turned on the fire for the stove, and grabbed a couple of knives. The voices were getting more distinct now. After turning on the shower, Cross slipped out the south side to the deck where they'd been resting before. Dipping the towels into the water lapping just below the deck, he dropped them across the entrance and left a few near the deck itself, dropping the clothing items near the steps that led into the water. The first of the voices sounded as if they were on the northern deck now, signaling to Cross that he'd better get the hell out of there before they caught him.

Careful to keep his feet off the sandy bottom, Cross dropped into the water and paddled his way to shore, angling his body to roll up the small beach area so as not to leave any prints. The foliage was thick here, but not so thick that he wouldn't be spotted if he didn't move his ass. After doing his best to re-fluff the foliage he'd just rambled through, Cross darted into the thicker confines of the tiny jungle they had in the middle of their island, hoping to find Hathev before the Klingons did. Maybe she'd already used her badge to call for help or an evac. But, knowing his luck, the fuckery was just getting started in a gigantic cosmic cockblock.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #44
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Private villa | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

Hathev had, indeed heard the rustling outside and the growl of the Klingons and in that moment virtually all sense of sensuality had disappeared as she realized there were uninvited guests and she was tied naked to a bed.  Before she knew it he had cut her free and, when the knots on her left wrist would not come undone, he tore the bed post away from the headboard,.  She was still tied at the wrist, but she was free and he’d been so kind as to give her a makeshift flail.

She listened to his instructions to run and escape, but he gave her no time to discuss the matter before he ran out of the room, her clothes in his arms, leaving her there naked and, save for the piece of bedpost still leashed to her wrist, unarmed.

Anger swelled within her, first at Cross but then quickly re-directed at the Klingons.  Why was it that every time something happened they were at the heart of it?  The first time she’d had to take a proper shore leave in months and now two dozen Klingons stood between her and the downtime she had intended.

The Vulcan grabbed the commbadges that had been left behind and quickly attached them to the fabric of the biding by the knots at her wrist.  This would allow her to close her hand around them easily and keep them protected.  She considered grabbing at least a pair of underwear from her bag, but without any certainty of just how close the Klingons were she concluded the logical course of action was to escape now and worry about her modesty, or lack thereof, later.

It was a good choice on her part, she soon realized.  Two Klingons approached the south side of the cabana, cutting off her exit path.  But instead of entering, they stopped and turned as if waiting for something, their backs to the building.  Instinct told her it was too easy, but she could not squander the opportunity granted to her.

Quietly as she could, she approached from behind.

Her element of surprise lasted long enough to clamp her free hand on the nerve cluster at the base of the first Klingon’s neck and drop him.  Hearing the commotion, his companion turned but hesitated.  It was logical to assume he had not expected to see a naked Vulcan standing in front of him.  Using the moment, Hathev reached for his neck, but it was batted away.  The action threw the Vulcan off balance and as she fell down the stairs to the ground, she felt a tug on the strap as the bedpost hit the Klingon in the side of his head.

She scrambled back to her feet as the Klingon regained himself.  Despite the disruptors on his belt, he pulled his blade, clearly preferring the close quarters over the range.  That, she concluded, was a most illogical decision as she could not defend herself at range as well as she could in close quarters.  Evading as he swiped at her, Hathev pushed the pain of her bouncing breasts down and channeled that into her focus as she waited for him to overextend himself.

The moment came and she grabbed his attacking wrist, the flailing bedpost threatening to throw off her balance.  Her slender fingers found his pressure point and clamped down, forcing his hand to open and allowing the knife to fall uselessly to the ground.  The minor victory was short lived. Before she realized what had happened she was staggering back as pain poured over her face.  Only when the Klingon’s and came away smeared with her blood, did she realize what he had done.  She didn’t think he’d broken her nose, oddly.  But she was not about to question the facts.

He seemed to relish in his re-taking control of the moment and paused long enough to lean forward to pick up his fallen dagger.

It was as if the calculations and the numbers appeared over her field of vision and at once she knew what she had to do.  Stepping forward, she thrust her foot out, kicking sand and dirt into his eyes.  As expected he rose to his full height.  Thrusting her left arm first out to her side and then forward, the bedpost acted as a weight as it flew forward, only to be pulled to the side were the fabric was stopped by the Klingon’s neck, pulling the bedpost into an ever shringing orbit as it wrapped and constricted the airway.  Between the sand in his eyes and the sudden collar around him, the Klingon did not know where to reach first.  Hathev pulled with all her strength drawing herself in to him before driving a knee into his groin.

He doubled over on top of her but she slipped out from under him, continuing to cut to the right, and then around and behind him, the fabric from her side continuing to wrap.  Then she dropped and pulled with all her body weight and strength.  Her bare ass acting as a fulcrum, the Klingon lifted off the ground, and pulled backwards over her.

She heard a distinctive crack as his neck followed by the rest of his weight came down on the bedpost that her counter side wrap had pinned into place.
Retrieving the knife from the ground, she slipped it between the wrap and her wrist cutting herself free before relieving both Klingon's of their belts from which each hung a pair of disruptors, and a knife.  One belt also had something that reminded Hathev of a photon grenade, while the other had something that looked a bit flatter and seemed to have an emitter on one side that had been marked as the ‘up’ side.  Grabbing the comm badges from the sash, she slapped them on the belts.
Shouts from her right drew her attention and she saw four more Klingons running for her.  Not liking the odds, Hathev took off for the jungle, weapon belts in hand.  As they closed distance on her, she pulled the grenade, activated it, and threw it at the approaching group.  Klingon weapon designs were effective for certain but also very rudimentary.  Had it been a Federation grenade, the Vulcan probably would not have known how to activate the munition.  She turned at the sound of the explosion and where there had been four Klingons chasing her, now stood a crater, a cloud of smoke dirt, sand, and body parts flying in all directions.

She continued running for about a half minute before she laterally ran into Cross, falling on top of him as they both tumbled. 

Picking herself back up she perched so she sat on her knees over his legs, she regarded him,

"Greetings," she said.  “We have weapons,” she held up the two belts.  "And the Klingons have lost five, maybe six of their number.”

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #45
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

A Klingon subsequently blocked his journey into the jungle unnoticed hoping to meet an unharmed Hathev. While he had a disruptor attached to his hip, the Klingon gripped a bat’leth in his hand, and on his ankle was a knife holster with another blade. The only factors working in Cross’ favor were that the Klingon hadn’t seen him yet and appeared alone. Picking up a rock, the ground here strewn with a variety to choose from, Cross tossed it into the thicker foliage adjacent to the Klingon. He watched as the Klingon, a good ten kilos heavier than Cross, adjusted his attention to the area Cross had led him to study. On silent, bare feet, Cross circled the Klingon, pausing to toss another rock into another area before resuming his silent stalking. He figured he had one chance to get the drop on the man, and, with that in mind, Cross surged forward, another rock gripped almost painfully in his prosthetic.

He'd already known the knock across the head would not be enough to incapacitate the oaf, but it was enough of a painful distraction that the Klingon’s grip on his bat’leth wavered, and his body curled forward in response. Cross reached around the reeling opponent and took hold of the disruptor. The Klingon surged backward unexpectedly, catching Cross in the face. The disruptor fell from his grip, and Cross dropped to the ground like a sack of stones. As the Klingon turned to make a killing sweep at Cross’ body, the Vulcan reached out and unsheathed the knife from the Klingon’s ankle holster. At the last moment, Cross rolled out from under the killing swing, hand once more finding the disruptor in his retreat.

Bringing it up to fire, Cross barked out a curse when the Klingon quickly readjusted his swing to knock the weapon from Cross’ prosthetic, shredding a line across the exterior mechanics of his hand. Cross conducted another roll before coming into a crouch, flesh hand still holding the Klingon’s knife. The Klingon charged, growling in his language. Despite the stereotype of Klingons being oafish grunts, this one stays balanced in the charge, drawing his bat’leth over his head and snapping it down toward Cross. Cross raised the knife above and to the left of his face, rotating it sideways so the handle was up high, providing a deflecting roof above his head. The momentum of the Klingon’s swing jars the bones of his body, but the blow itself slides off the knife, allowing Cross to sidestep and stand, bringing the knife down toward the vulnerable joint area of the Klingon’s shoulder armor. But the Klingon reacts swiftly, and Cross’ timing is off, his blade too short, and the Klingon’s deflection had Cross’ efforts end in a cut behind and to the side of the Klingon, their bodies quickly pivoting to face each other.

Elsewhere on the island, they heard explosions and the yells of the Klingon’s comrades. Still, instead of touching his communicator to signal reinforcements, the Klingon seemed content with their present dual. He made another attack, this time without a growling insult. It was a quick shuffling approach and then a slicing cut toward Cross’ ribcage. Cross surprised the Klingon when he used his prosthetic to grab the bat’leth blade while he surged forward into the Klingon’s space, twisting his torso and adjusting his feet for a more potent attack after this parry. The Klingon’s eyes were still wide with surprise when Cross buried the man’s one knife into his throat, twisting the handle to slice up as he pulled it out again, sending a purple spray of blood in an arc between them.

The Klingon abandoned the bat’leth in favor of covering his throat, where his vocal cords were severed along with his windpipe and arteries. He collapsed in a writhing, wide-eyed heap at Cross’ feet, allowing Cross to unstrap the ankle holster from the man’s jerking leg. Strapping it to his ankle, Cross next took the discarded bat’leth, sparring nary a glance at the dying Klingon as he moved to stand and resume his trek across the island.

His mouth filled with blood when, as he turned away from the bloody mess at his feet, an armored fist connected with his jaw. Staggering, Cross cursed his own inattention and arrogance when the sudden attack from the unexpected second Klingon sent the bat’leth clattering back to the ground. He barely had a chance to spit the blood from his mouth and shake his senses back into place when another fist lashed out toward his face. Cross took the fist in his damaged prosthetic, allowing the attack's energy to propel himself and the Klingon forward, twisting his body to send him hurling into the ground. The smaller Klingon, about the same weight class as Cross, rolled over like a predatory cat, nearly knocking Cross to the ground alongside him. 

Cross tried to dance out of range but moved too late, the Klingon back on his feet and driving his shoulder into Cross’ belly in seconds. Cross brought his hands down from their useless block stance to grip the Klingon’s armored shoulders as the man drove them back across the small clearing until Cross’ back hit a tree. He adjusted his grip, pulling his elbow back until his thumbs could drive into the Klingon’s eye sockets and pressing until the man howled in pain and reeled back. Cross sent a driving punch with his prosthetic against the Klingon’s ear, ripping off a portion of it and sending a trickle of purple down the man’s neck. He sent one quick side jab to the other side of the Klingon’s head at the man’s temple, following with a harder side jab back against the injured ear. The Klingon started to swing in a blind fury, both hands thrusting with every bit of energy he could muster.

But then, the Klingon shifted his attack. He missed a right from Cross and followed it with total body weight, sliding an arm around Cross’ neck and grabbing the wrist of his other hand. He jerked his feet up and went to land hard to break Cross’ neck. But Cross expected this and hurled himself forward to the right as the Klingon raised his feet, intentionally falling. It broke the hold, and they rolled free of each other. The Klingon sprung to his feet, and Cross lashed out with a kick to dislodge his renewed stance. The Klingon shuffled away but hurled himself at Cross’ prone body a moment later. Cross accepted the attack, his breath wheezing, but rolled them until it was he who straddled the Klingon. He punched down with left and right, shattering the Klingon’s cheekbone with his prosthetic and cutting through his own skin with his flesh hand. The Klingon thrust his hips up and over, dislodging Cross long enough to whip up an uppercut into Cross’ belly.

Cross rolled off the Klingon, curling inward to gasp in a much-needed breath, allowing the other man to hoist himself into a kneeling position adjacent to Cross, readying for a renewed attack. Cross gripped the knife at his ankle and twisted, once more burying the blade into Klingon's flesh within seconds. This Klingon looked just as surprised as the first had, his hands coming down to grip Cross’ wrist as Cross pulled the blade from the man’s throat. Reaching around the man’s head, Cross twisted the man’s hair into his fingers, jerking his head back so that he could finish the killing cut, the air filling with the slick wheezing sounds of a man taking his last, painful breath.

Cross let go of the man’s hair, letting the corpse keel forward facefirst into the ground beside him. Once more sheathing the knife, Cross scrambled forward to take the bat’leth before pulling his bloodied and bruised body back to its feet. The first few steps back on his original course sent needle-like pinpricks of pain through his body. But hearing renewed shouts from back at the villa and with a picture of Hathev, vulnerably nude in her escape, Cross managed to grit through the pain until it became a part of his reality.

He could spot the edge of the jungle, the beach he’d hoped Hathev would retreat to, lying on the other side, when he heard violent thrashing in the undergrowth. Turning to face the attacker, Cross had only seconds to pull back the bat’leth and allow Hathev’s naked body to crash into his unharmed. They fell to the ground as one, with Hathev adjusting herself to straddle his waist soon after the fall. Her “greetings,” spoken so matter-of-factly, were enough to elicit a grin from Cross. Her weapons were a far cry better than his, but for the moment, his attention was on her breasts and lips.

Cross pushed his torso up off the ground with his prosthetic hand, wrapping his flesh hand around the back of her neck and pulling her forward until he felt the comforting press of her breasts against his chest and the warm softness of her lips against his. The kiss tasted bloody, thanks to his blood and the Klingon’s that had sprayed over his flesh, but Cross didn’t much care at the moment. He allowed them the taste and reassurance of one another for a few seconds before Cross pulled back and again smiled.

“You may have picked the wrong department, Hathev since you got five or six to my two.”

There were more shouts from back in the jungle, the responding calls letting the pair know the Klingons were following their trail and circling closer.

“Did you get our badges? As much as I believe in your ability to take out an army, a transporter retreat may be far more effective in keeping our heads attached to our bodies.”

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #46
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

Hathev shook her head, the action allowing her to suppress a smile that she felt coming on.

“You give me too much credit, Mr. Cross,” she said.  “Do not mistake the use of physics and anti-personnel explosives as ‘skill’.  To use a human phrase, I got lucky.”

She surveyed the area around them as well as the weapons and one piece of equipment she had recovered and found it curious that Cross was so eager to leave.  Of course, she understood the danger and agreed that retreat was the most logical course of action.  Yet, at the same time, she was not prepared to return to the ship.  More specifically, she realized as she laid eyes on the beach, she was not prepared to return to Theurgy.

“I have our badges, but might I propose that instead of cutting our vacation short, we simply change the venue?”

She motioned to the sea ship the Klingons had landed on the beach.

Picking up the other piece of equipment she had commandeered, she read the Klingon that had been stenciled into the side - ‘stasis web’

“Perhaps this could assist us?”

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #47
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Unnamed Island | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

The more rational part of his brain, probably the eternally irritated last semblances of being Vulcan, told Cross that they should abandon this adventure altogether and return immediately to the ship. It was the logical thing to do. And, the fact that the “good” Vulcan Hathev was suggesting they stay, a Vulcan woman recently inclined towards exploring her emotions and relying on his fucking numbskull to guide her…well, that should be another clue to former-hybrid that returning to the ship was smarter and healthier.


Outside of his official capacity in his duties aboard the ship, Cross was rather an idiot. And if a naked woman with luscious boobs swaying over his head requested he do something stupid as fuck…then he was going to do something stupid as fuck.

“Let’s do this.” The rustling and voices were getting louder. “Quickly. Don’t look back when you run. Here,” he gently pushed her off his torso and moved to kneel beside her. “Let’s get this affixed.” He worked quickly, securing one belt around her petite waist, allowing her the freedom to return the favor with the other belt. “We can set up the stasis web over there,” he pointed to a funnel point the Klingons would run through once they saw them running toward the ship.

It was challenging but not impossible to set up the Klingon device. Thankfully, it was fairly intuitive, even if the directions were in Klingon. Cross backtracked a bit to bury one disruptor, signaling Hathev when he set it to overload. He didn’t know precisely how long it’d take to overload, but they’d have about a minute or two to get away if it was like their phasers. He moved around the funnel point to the beach's edge and held out his hand for Hathev to take.

“Shall we?” He asked as the first Klingons emerged from the jungle foliage and spotted them, immediately sending off a series of warning shots in their direction as they bellowed for them to surrender. Pulling out the other disruptor, Cross fired a few wild shots over his shoulder, offering Hathev a cocky smile. “Let’s see you use those lovely legs now.”

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #48
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Unnamed Island | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

Looking back on the situation as her Vulcan mind was want to do, Hathev could not comprehend the thought process that had led her to this inescapably illogical conclusion that commandeering the Klingon Marauder's sea vessel was the correct course of action for the two of them.  By all objective measures they were out manned, out gunned, and in a tactically inferior position to defend themselves.  Logic dictated that Cross was, indeed, correct to suggest a beam out back to the ship. Despite that, one other inescapable fact remained.

Hathev did not wish do leave.  She did not desire for their trip to be cut short.

So, when Cross affixed one of the belts to her waist and gave her the opportunist to return the favor, the Vulcan was more than accommodating.  She let him take the lead on setting the stasis web trap, assisting him where needed and in particular in the translation of the Klingon language in places where he encountered difficulties and she offered a confident nod when he asked “Shall we” after returning from burying the disruptor that had been holstered in her belt.

The Vulcan was not ignorant of the entendre by Cross’s comment about her ‘lovely’ legs, and while she had not particularly given much though to her legs up until now, she took a certain satisfaction that Cross had offered a complimentary statement as to their appearance.

She refrained from reminding him of the obvious, that as a Vulcan her strength and stamina potentially exceeded his as he had been, up until recently, a hybrid Vulcan.  As they ran, Cross firing blindly behind him, she considered that in the wake of his so called ‘correction’ that Cross’s endurance might now more closely resemble that of a Vulcan, and that such a boast about her own physical superiority would not only be needlessly hurtful to him, but also factually inaccurate.
Logically, of course, none of these thoughts mattered as the lovers feet pounded the sand as they ran for the shore where the ship had been moored.  She matched Cross stride for stride, taking care to stay in step with him and not get too far ahead or behind.

The explosion, however, had other ideas.  Hathev had not tracked the time on the disruptor’s overload status and when it went off, the blast wave threw her off balance and she tumbled to the ground.  Looking behind her, as she regained herself, she saw Klingon bodies strewn about and a blast crater that had been left behind.  She rose to her feet, accepting any offer of help that Cross might have given, but she did not delay and she took off again, for the ship.

Hathev reached the gangplank to the ship just a few strides ahead of Cross and almost lost her head as the Bat’leth swung at her neck.  The act of pulling away from the swing threw the naked Vulcan off balance once again and she scrambled to get away from the next slash of the guards weapon.  For a Klingon, the mercenary was fast.  Not as fast of a Vulcan, but fast enough to keep Hathev scrambling on arms and legs, trying to evade the attacks long enough for Cross to arrive and assist.

Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island

Reply #49
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Pirate vessel qu'DuHSum | BIQ'a'bIng Ocean | Unnamed Island | Qo’Nos] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Where Hathev seemed to have fallen like an angelic feather, Cross face-planted like a drunken troll and only managed to get up faster than Hathev because he converted the momentum of the fall into a roll and leap back to his feet. A few of the Klingons had survived the blast and the net and were now laying in pursuit, firing as wild shots at them as Cross did over his shoulder.

“Fuck!” He yelled when Hathev backed up nearly into him, dodging a bat’leth. Hauling Hathev against his chest and twisting so she was partially behind him, Cross aimed and fired, the beam catching the Klingon squarely in the chest mid-rise of the bat’leth for the next strike.

“Keep them occupied,” Cross said, pointing to the much larger deck gun next to the gangplank. I’m going to get this bucket started so we can get the hell out of here.”

He started to move away when inspiration seized him. Taking Hathev firmly by the shoulders, he dipped her over his arm, sealing his lips against hers in a passionate kiss. They hadn’t the time for this, in all honesty. Still, she’d looked so damn fuckable standing nude on the deck, gun in hand with a weapon’s belt the only thing she wore on her delectable body, now with a determined look about her shoulders as she readied to deal out death with all the efficiency as a Vulcan female could.

“We survive this,” Cross whispered against her lips before his flesh hand came up to lightly grip her hair, tilting her head back further to kiss the pulse in her neck, “and I’m going to fuck you.”

He kissed her again before letting go, pushing both their bodies just below the rail line of the deck as the Klingons continued their furtive firing. Shooting his lover a wink, Cross scurried away to find the engines while he left Hathev to eradicate their foes in the most logical manner available: a very, very big gun.

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