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Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] The Counselor's Counselor

Reply #25
[Lt Cmdr Cross | Cross's Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring

The logical side of his brain understood certain elements of this exchange that the more readily used emotional side of his brain ignored or lacked the current capability to decipher. For one, Cross understood logically that to admit to an emotion, for a traditional Vulcan such as Hathev, was a cardinal sin, a huge chink in the armor of logic, and a hellz no-go if you were expected to operate as a respected Vulcan. Cross also, normally, logically, would’ve understood that a woman didn’t come to a man and tell him her problems because she wanted a solution; it was because she wanted to be comforted and heard. After more than a few misunderstandings and slapped cheeks during his Academy years, his mentors had taught him that.

However, Cross, so recently rendered a full-blooded Vulcan with nary the control mechanisms over logic and emotion that a child of his race might have, and currently succumbing to sugar intoxication—a new and quite unexpected feat—gave no attention to the logical side of his brain. Instead, he focused on the irrational, emotional side, and in response to Hathev’s obvious distaste of admitted emotions, and her claim that he felt pity for her, only fueled the frustration he’d earlier been feeling. Only now, it wasn’t mere frustration. It had built into irritation, borderline anger, and for a split second it dumbfounded him how they’d ended up from her earlier request to see him to here with both of them just seconds away from blowing a fuse. But that rational second left almost as soon as it came, and Cross reacted on instinct, not logic.

“Why does every Vulcan treat emotions as if they are the plague?” Cross set his drink on the table before throwing up his hands and taking a step back. “Even the ancient Buddhists on Earth, who believed in purging all desires for earthly possessions, knew when to smile and laugh and have a good time.” He shook his head, clenching his fists by his side, “Emotions are not an enemy, Hathev. At least they don’t have to be, and sitting here feeling sorry for yourself that you’re now experiencing them is only going to make a shitty situation shittier.”

Cross moved around the table to sit next to Hathev once more, only his equilibrium didn’t allow him to make a clean corner, and he clipped his shin against the side of the table. He fell back onto the couch, tumbling against Hathev’s side. He pushed out his arms to catch himself, grabbing hold of the armrest on the other side of Hathev and wrapping the fingers of his prosthetic around the back of the couch, trapping her between his body and the couch, their faces close, their bodies even closer. She was warm, soft. Cross blinked her image back into focus when it registered what had happened but spoke in a rumbling whisper before pulling away completely.

“You want logic, Hathev? It is illogical to think that any life is a guarantee. That any relationship will continue to exist. It is illogical to think that we won’t FEEL the loss of someone when they’re not there, that we won’t FEEL anger when their death could’ve been prevented. The degree of feeling may vary, but even Vulcans FEEL emotions. I know that firsthand, now.”

Finally, Cross pulled away, albeit almost reluctantly. He stared at her for a moment before lightly putting his prosthetic on her shoulder, taking care to keep the touch light.

“I don’t pity you, Hathev. Wanting to help someone when they’re in pain is not always pity; it is often compassion. You, of all people, should know the difference.” He shook his head and began to pull his hand away, “And there’s no use me trying to fix you when I’m fucking broken myself. That’s the blind leading the blind.”
Lieutenant Enyd Isolde Madsen, Assistant Chief Diplomatic Officer

Lieutenant Commander Cross, Chief Tactical Officer

Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] The Counselor's Counselor

Reply #26
[ Lt. Cmdr Hathev| Cross's Personal Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz 

“Why does every Vulcan treat emotions as if they are the plague?”

Hathev made to stand, but Cross crossed and fell on top of her. Essentially trapping her.  She did not feel threatened per se but is proximity to her did not help her deteriorating state of mind and she had to stop herself from retaliating.

“…even Vulcans FEEL emotions.  I know that firsthand, now.”

His words hit her, each like a hammer strike to her heart and mind.  He thought he knew.  But he did not.  He could not.  He could not possibly know just how violently savage the Vulcan race truly was.  He could not know that the anger induced violence, the assault he had committed against her just a few days ago on the Holodeck was but a drop in the proverbial bucket that was the depth and intensity of Vulcan emotion.  He could not know just how brutally savage their people had been nor could he know how the embrace of logic over emotion had been the only thing that had saved her people as a race, to say nothing about their society as a whole.

“…That’s the blind leading the blind.” 

She felt his prosthetic on her shoulder but did not pull away.  Despite it’s mechanical nature, it felt warm and through her anger she found it unexpectedly comforting; a physical reminder that she was not as alone as she felt.

“I reject your implication that one must be ‘perfect’ in order to help another.  But I take your point.  You want me to embrace my emotions and give in to my feelings?”

She paused.

“Fine.”

Her right hand shot forward and wrapped tight around the back of Cross’s head and neck.  With a burst of her rarely used Vulcan strength she pulled him onto her.  She met him half way, she pulled him into a kiss and as her left arm snaked around his side, she let the loneliness and the affection pour into the gesture.  Her right hand’s grip loosened only slightly as she felt her nails pierce the outer layers of his skin.  She did not desire to hurt him. 

She only desired him.

Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] The Counselor's Counselor

Reply #27
[Lt Cmdr Cross | Cross's Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Warm hands, strong, clinging to his neck and anchoring against him at his side. Supple lips pressed against his own, searching for satiation in their movements. A moment of pain against his neck, Cross wincing into the kiss, fingernails having raked against his skin, then retreated in their frenzy. Somewhere in his mind, distant and echoing though the thought was, Cross recognized the danger signs of the present clasp of bodies. Neither he nor Hathev were sober, though he was arguably more so than she, and neither he nor Hathev were in the right emotional state to engage in this sort of physical intimacy without there being hell to pay. But as it was earlier, when the logical and illogical sides of his brain toed the line of which he would take action with, Cross fell face first into the illogical side.

His right hand moved of its own accord to palm the doughy flesh of her breast as his prosthetic moved to cup her head, turning his body to fit more firmly against hers. All her curves angled perfectly against the hard planes of his form and in one shifting move she was half lying against the couch with Cross bent over her, his body moving on lustful instinct. He felt a growing power sift through his belly, pulsating through his veins, fueling the desire that Hathev’s touch had ignited. Suddenly, it was not enough to merely kiss her lips and touch her breast through her clothes. He needed skin. Cross pulled his lips from hers and immediately set about licking, kissing, nibbling a trail along her jawline, down her neck, to her shoulder. Here, as his arms pulled her even more securely against his body, Cross bit down. Not hard enough to draw blood, but, as he lapped at her skin, alternating between nips and kisses, his attention to this area would assuredly leave a mark.

Cross shifted his weight to the left, using two fingers of his right hand to hook under the collar of her nightclothes, his movements deliberately slow as he pulled the clothing over her shoulder. He stopped when, with just one more inching movement of his fingers, her breast would be exposed to his view. His eyes sought out Hathev’s, a small portion of his rational thought returning enough to recognize that whatever happened next, he didn’t much care. If she grew angry and stormed out of his quarters, so be it. If she gave in further to the “emotion” of the moment and they shared his bed, so be it. He’d deal with the consequences either way tomorrow. Tonight was for action, tomorrow for thought.

“Embracing emotions isn’t such a bad thing,” he leaned forward and kissed her, drawing her lower lip between his as he drew out the kiss.

It took every ounce of his willpower not to rush again, to strip her bare and thrust into her warmth. Though untried in the such matters, Cross knew enough and had a strong enough imagination to envision the sensations, which only furthered his desire. She would feel it now, pressing insistently against her, demanding attention. And yet, Cross displayed some restraint in his pausing, his soft kisses, holding her clothes just shy of a full revealing.

“Tell me, Hathev,” he spoke against her skin as he rained more gentle kisses across her cheek to her ear, where he stopped speaking long enough to draw the tip of it lightly between his teeth, tracing his tongue along the edge until he pressed a kiss on the delicate skin just below it. “Are these emotions shared between us so bad?” Cross shifted his hips just enough for her to feel him fitted snugly between her legs, the only barrier: clothes and willpower. “Must we shun them and instead embrace the chill of logic?”

Another undulating thrust against her, his right hand tightening its grip on her arm, his lips moving back down to her shoulder, and now he spoke against the smooth skin of her upper chest. “Is this not warmer? More pleasurable? Isn't this what you wanted when you came here tonight?”
Lieutenant Enyd Isolde Madsen, Assistant Chief Diplomatic Officer

Lieutenant Commander Cross, Chief Tactical Officer

Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] The Counselor's Counselor

Reply #28
[Lt Cmdr Cross & Lt. Cmdr Hathev | Cross’s Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring  @EllenFitz

A Joint Post

The warmth of his lips on her flesh were a welcomed sensation and she offered no resistance as he drew her still closer.  The pinch of his teeth biting into her a brief but sharp spike as if a concerned strike across her face to pull her out of a trance, a welcome sensation.

His fingers traced up her body, pulling at her crop and she released her left arm long enough to pull back and let the crop come off her shoulder entirely and slide down her arm, she reached over her head, pulling the right side off as well, but before the crop could come off her body entirely.  It caught in the fabric of her button down.  She pulled her right arm back, but the fabric caught at her elbows, gently binding her arms together in the tangle of fabric partially pinned between her shoulders and the couch  She would need Cross’s assistance to free herself.  Whether he chose to do so or chose to take advantage of her quasi-restrained state remained to be seen.

The feel of his breath on her ear aroused her in a way she never thought possible, a way that just a few days ago might not have been possible.  However, with the dam that was her emotional restraint cracked, probably for the rest of her life, she found a new pleasure in everything he said and did.  She could not answer his questions as he posed them, but only the last one lingered in her mind. 

“I sought comfort….”  Her voice trailed off as her breath escaped her for the briefest of moments.  “I was concerned less about the form of the comfort than I was about its function.”

She turned her head to meet his eyes as best she could.  “As to your prior queries, I cannot say.” 

A certain playfulness entered her conscious thoughts, one she never would have permitted under other circumstances and one she suspected would not have presented itself but for her intoxication.

“I believe more data must be gathered before I can provide an accurate assessment.  That said,” she tilted her head to kiss him, “I approve of your current approach.”

For all its trite clichés, the sentiment, she realized, was accurate.  In this moment, there was no where she would rather be than under Cross’s tender care.

Cross hoisted the weight of his torso away enough to watch Hathev’s efforts to disrobe with a mixture of awe and amusement.  Here was a beautiful woman just shy of being flesh against his flesh in his quarters with no threat of interruption, and Cross could no longer remember how in the hell they’d gotten here.  He was vaguely aware of something serious being connected to their being together like this, even more than one something serious, but what did that matter now?

When her arms got caught up in the material of her nightclothes behind her back, Cross watched her eyes flash with the awareness of her state.  He felt a fresh wave of warmth, like fire, flush through his body, and for a moment, Cross felt an almost irrational need to dominate, to take what was being offered, and to stop with the niceties.  But Hathev seemed undisturbed with her vulnerability before him now, speaking once more of her desire to seek comfort.  Her words, her sense of almost calm yet incessant need, cooled the fire, and Cross felt more himself again.  Her next words, surprisingly playful, made Cross laugh, his hand reaching out to trace light caresses over the angles of her cheek, along her jawline, then with his thumb, Cross smoothed a touch over her lips.

“More data gathering, eh?” his voice was lower, influenced by his want, and there was no mistaking the want.  Not in his voice, his eyes, or his body.  He ran his fingertips down her neck and over the sensitive skin near her collarbone.  All his senses were finely tuned upon the woman in his arms, and that was not likely to change anytime soon.  “I’m more than happy to oblige.”

Wrapping his arms around her to take hold of the clothing, Cross momentarily took advantage of her “restraint” by pulling her tight against his chest, his lips pressing against hers in an achingly slow and passionate kiss. While his lips moved against hers, his hands went to work in assisting to free her arms again.  Once free, Cross’ hands took a definite detour and ran over the contours of her back, and, using the position to his advantage, he continued to embrace her as if in fear of her transporting away without warning.

His warmth flushed into her body as he freed her arms and embraced her.  As his arms swept under her shoulders, she felt her body lighten.  The sense of the couch fabric on her bare back fell away and as he lifted her into his secure embrace, her now freed arms reached up and wrapped gently around the base of his neck, offering her own assistance to supporting her own weight.

Gone was the aggression, the need to draw blood, replaced by sensual desire; the need for physical contact, the need for companionship, the need for a sense of security, the need to have someone and know they would not become lost to her.  The thought was, of course, illogical.  In the grand scale of the universe the momentary desires of one or two individuals could not inherently change the course of galactic events.  Logical interactions still occurred, the continuum of cause and effect persisted.  She was thinking about it too much.  That was the flaw in her people - their inability to turn off the analysis and simply experience any given moment for what it was.  But that was one flaw that might no longer ever apply to her.  And for the first time, she welcomed that potential.

Cross continued to lift her and she felt him trying to straighten.  Hathev submitted, wrapping her legs around his waist, securing them behind his back, crossed at the ankle, moderating her strength enough to keep her in place, but not so strong that it cut off his ability to breathe.  Lifting herself on him as he returned to an upright position, she pressed his head into her bust, throwing her own head back, giving him unfettered access to whatever of her he wanted.  Her long raven hair hung freely from her head.

As Hathev pulled his head towards her chest, Cross slid his hands under her ass.  The soft material encompassing her flesh was not a thick enough barrier to keep him from feeling the pliant muscle flex and roll under his touch as she shifted in his arms.  His face pressed between her breasts, Cross paused to inhale, memorizing the scent of her flesh as he relished the naked warmth of it against his skin.  Turning his head, Cross paused once more, listening to her breaths, and feeling her heartbeat through her skin, doing his best not to rush through this.  Beyond the fact that this was his first time holding a half-naked woman, there was also the reality that far too much in their life went by far too quickly.  There was no reason for them to rush this, to make it only about a momentary comfort fuck.  In fact, Cross closed his eyes and moved one hand from her ass to the small of her back as he tightened his hold, Cross feared that this might only be a comfort fuck.  If he hadn’t been screwed with by the Savi and their paths thrown together, would Hathev have even “lowered” herself to consider him?  If they hadn’t both gotten more than a little tipsy this evening…if her spouse hadn’t died…so many fucking if’s and all he wanted to do was feel the moist warmth of her wrapping about his length as he sank into, forgetting everything else in the universe for that brief moment.

He held her tight, and through their touch telepathy, she sensed his fear… a fear that she might vanish on him, a fear she shared.  She could not lose him.  Not now… not ever.  Hell, she could not stand to suffer any interruption.

“Computer,” she said as her breaths started to grow shallow.  “Secure the doors and engage privacy mode.”

Somewhere in her perception, she heard the door locks secure, and the computer confirm in its own way that nothing short of a ship wide emergency would be permitted to interrupt them.  She thrust her head forward, her hair flipping around in a wild yet elegant display and nibbled at his neck and the tip of his ear.

“It’s just us, now.  And I offer myself to you.”

Cross shuddered as her lips played with the sensitive skin of his neck before whispering next to his ear, her lips tickling over the tip of it in an obviously seductive fashion.  He felt that fire build again and this time he let it loose, albeit only a little.  With a rumbling growl of approval, Cross moved his head enough to draw one perk nipple between his lips, moving the pad of his tongue over its hardened tip, then lightly brushing his teeth over it, not enough to hurt but enough to draw attention.

Hathev hissed in a breath as pain lanced into her from her breast.  Just as quickly it was gone, and her breath shuddered along with the rest of her body as she exhaled, and a new sense of arousal took her while Cross teased her nipple.  Too long neglected, the gentle raking of Cross’s teeth over the sensitive skin was enough to evoke a reaction far more intense than it ought to have been but for the months it had been since last time anyone had attempted to touch her in this manner.

Relying on his natural strength, and trusting her agility, Cross moved the hand that been pressed against the small of her back.  Reaching up, he first massaged the supple breast left neglected before his hand moved further until his fingers wrapping around her neck.  It was not a harsh grip, or even a threatening one, but the pressure from his hand upon her flesh was enough to still her movements and keep her gaze centered with his own.  Neither moved for the span of a few heartbeats.  Her legs around his waist, his arm bolstering her weight under her ass.  Her arms maintained their grip around his neck while he now held one of his own against her neck.  Cross was deliberate in his slow pace as he let his gaze move from taking in the beauty of her loosened hair, the flushed nature of her skin, her shapely breasts, and on further to see where she pressed intimately against him, all but riding him already.

“That is an offer,” he moved his hand around to cup the nape of her neck, his fingers wrapping in her hair and tugging ever so slightly as he pulled her face close, “I will gladly accept.”

The warmth of his hand wrapped around her neck, holding her head secure and preventing her from looking away, not that she would if she could.  Until now, she had never allowed anyone to put their hands on her neck like that, but she did not resist or complain.  His grip firm enough to secure her, but not so harsh as to be abusive or dangerous showed a brilliant finesse of his Vulcan strength if she did say so herself.  His cybernetic hand tightened just enough that she knew she was not going anywhere.  He had her well in hand and she would have it no other way.

Cross angled his mouth over hers, opening himself to her and tasting her in return, willing his tongue, as it delved into the sweetness of her mouth, to mimic the movements of their imminent lovemaking.  It was a mixed blessing maintaining spartan quarters as Cross had little to worry about running into when he moved across the room until he had Hathev pressed between the cold dividing wall that led to his sleeping area and the heat of his body.  Holding her like this, and with her legs still around his waist, allowed Cross greater freedom with his hands, and he took full advantage.  One hand traveled from the mound of her ass down the side of her thigh, smoothing over her knee, before traveling back up again.  The other maintained its presence against her neck, his fingers massaging against her scalp as their kiss continued.  Cross brought his own breath to a stuttering halt when he angled his hips against her and rolled himself forward.  He wanted her so badly.  And they were both wearing too many damn layers still!

Her back slammed against the wall, a violent action that invigorated her ever more so as the bulkhead absorbed the heat radiating off her bare back.  Never had a partner handled her in such a way, and as she found herself sandwiched between Cross and the wall, she found that it agreed with her.  Hathev *wanted* to be handled like this.  Unlike some of her past patients (and more than a few aboard ship), the counselor did not desire to be submissive under the domination of a sexual partner.  No… there was something else…something basic… almost instinctual.

She desired to be protected and cared for.

That was more submissive than she would otherwise admit, but she did not care.  Knowing Cross had her and would care for her fueled her, quickened her heart and her breathing.  She pulled his head to her again, kissing him as though drinking a fine Vulcan brandy and as he reciprocated, her hand tensed as it slid down the side of his head and over his shoulder as she took a fist full of his shirt and when the next wave of arousal took her, she pulled.  The fabric tore off in her hand with a loud ‘RRRIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPP’ as the shirt shredded, exposing his left pectoral.

Cross smiled against her lips, his body tightening against her in direct response to her actions.

“How are you with the mending?” He whispered against her skin when he pulled away to press open-mouthed kisses along her jawline and down the erratic pulse he easily found in her neck.

Hathev allowed the corners of her mouth curl upward at the question.  She tipped her head away from Cross, allowing him unfettered access to her neck.  “I was never the domesticated one,” she whispered back at him.

As much as he wanted to drink her into his soul, knowing that only then would the thirst he felt now be quenched, the tearing of his shirt acted as another calming agent.  It would be much too easy to rush through this and come out on the other side only barely aware of the details, so entirely consumed with the climax that all else fell by the wayside.  Cross had no interest in that.  Even if it meant driving Hathev far past her boundaries of careful control, he had every intention of enjoying her offer to its fullest.

Pulling away from the wall as he lightly bit her neck where it curved to meet her shoulder, Cross traversed the final corner into his sleeping area and, without preamble, tossed Hathev onto the bed.  Before she could react with more than indignant cries at the sudden separation, Cross finished what her desperate fingers had started and pulled the remains of his shirt over his head.  He held it in the air between them with a mock look of judgment before tossing it over his head into the shadows of his room.

It would be equally quick work to shed his pants in one fluid motion, and yet, Cross slowed his movements when his eyes caught hers.  There was such wanton desire mirrored in the depths of her gaze that Cross felt he could conquer planets and destroy empires just to have such a look on her face again.  There was no disguising her desire, her need, and Cross knew his own reflected back to her.  His movements were deliberate as he ran his fingers along the waistband of his pants, maintaining an unwavering gaze with Hathev as he slowly teased the waistband down one inch at a time.  Cross was curious how long he could tempt her without reaping the consequences, and yet, he also wondering how much longer he could tease himself without losing control entirely.

Hathev uttered little more than a grunt as he thrust her off him unexpectedly and tossed her unceremoniously onto Cross’s bed.  Despite her diminutive size, she bounced twice as the bed took her mass and she came to rest flat on her back, her legs askew.  She ran her hand through her long raven black hair, now a mess from her unexpected flight and rough landing and gathered herself as she propped herself up on her elbows.  Cross already had his shirt off and she watched, momentarily entertained as he discarded the tattered garment.

He stood before her, and she allowed herself the indulgence of taking in his well-toned, though scarred light olive skin.  He radiated strength and the primal woman within her recognized his dominance while demanding he take her, fast, hard, and aggressively, and throw away any sense of propriety, (as much as it existed in the act of copulation).  But the rational, emotionally damaged Vulcan appreciated the show, and that he was taking the time to savor the moments and enjoy their time together.  But she sensed something else, a hesitation on his part. 

Why was he uncertain?  Was he having second thoughts about what was to occur?  Was it their mutual intoxication?
Hathev quieted her mind.  She needed to know, but to address it directly might be a mistake.

She pulled her arms back a little more, forcing her upper body to angle higher and offered Cross an unobstructed view of herself.  Her muscle tone was well-defined yet subtle; a side effect from her hours she spent each week swimming laps, her breasts firm in their shapeliness yet supple to the touch, as Cross had discovered only moments ago.  Her curves were not as dramatic as those of a young woman just grown into adulthood, but through the years of near daily exercise, she had managed to age and still retain a shape that most sentients would find appealing.  Hathev had never considered her body in this way before, had never permitted herself to do so, but as the moment came, she realized for the first time that she was, as some might say, quite the catch.

“Do you like what you see, Mr. Cross?”

Cross answered with swift movements.  Letting go of the hem of his own pants, he leaned forward and shucked Hathev’s off her hips and legs in one breath.  They joined his shirt somewhere over his shoulder in the darkness.  Only once she was clothed in the glory of her nudity alone, did Cross take an assessing step back and feigned a look of contemplation.  But before she could be led to believe otherwise, Cross leaned forward and rested his warm hands on each of her ankles, maintaining eye contact.

“I do, Ms. Hathev.  I very,” leaning closer still, Cross placed a light kiss just above her ankle bone on her right ankle, “very,” he moved further up and placed a kiss on the inside of her left calf, “very,” higher still, and Cross gave a light nip to the fleshy interior of her right knee, “much like what I see.”

He now knelt on the edge of the bed, between her ankles, and the view of her goddess-like body splayed open before him had his ears ringing with a blood rush.  And yet Cross surprised himself with the amount of control he exhibited as he ran his hands up the sides of her legs until they took hold of her hips, and his lips trailed an alternating line of kisses along the interior of her legs, stopping just shy of her sex.  Once he was hovering over her torso, Cross again made sure he caught her gaze before he dipped down and placed an open-mouthed kiss on her belly just above the triangle of curls that begged for his attention.

“What do you want now, Hathev?” his voice was deeper with arousal.  The warmth of his breath as he rumbled the words was hot against her skin.  He watched as her skin reacted to the temperature change, with telltale bumps flashing outwards from the point of contact.  He smirked, a primal part of him satisfied with the visual confirmation of her sensitivity to his actions.

Hathev shuddered as the cool ship’s air hit her naked body for the first time.  Having lived on Vulcan for as long as she had, she always felt cold.  Normally the warmth of her uniform or an extra blanket was enough to push the chill away, but as she lay on Cross’s bed, nude and exposed her skin hardened into tiny goosebumps.  She shuddered again as he set his legs, between hers forcing her to expose herself to him, his phallus hovering just out of reach as it grew longer and more erect before her eyes.  His warm lips on her legs and then her belly fueled the fire within, warming her once again as her hand subconsciously found her right breast.

“What do you want now, Hathev,” he asked. 

As with so many things in life, words were insufficient to describe what she wanted… what she desired.  She had offered herself to him, an offer she would not rescind.  Never had she experienced sexuality in this way, and somewhere in her disciplined compartmentalized Vulcan mind she understood why.  This was the first time she had been with someone when her logic could not fully suppress her emotions and for the first time in her life, she understood why other species partook in this uncivilized act of copulation. 

Words were not enough.  But a single word might just be.

Her legs bent at the knees, wrapping and closing around his, anchoring him to this spot as she leaned forward, her long, slender fingers sliding around his hips, taking firm grip on the flesh of his ass, pulling him off her belly, up her body and giving his mouth free and unfettered access to her breasts, chest, and anything else of which he might wish to partake.

“More…”

Cross pressed smiling kisses across the sensitive flesh of her chest, lingering his attention on the peaks of both her breasts.  He moved his prosthetic hand up to the side of her body, using it to brace his weight just to the side so he could have greater access to her body.  With his other hand, Cross moved his fingers slowly up and over her hip, tracing light crisscrossing figures over the hypersensitive flesh in the crease where her thigh met her torso.  He firmly cupped her sex while simultaneously pulling a pert nipple between his lips.  He inwardly smiled at the noises his actions elicited from her throat, a sense of pride at her undoing settling itself in his belly and fueling his desire yet further.

“My pleasure,” Cross murmured the unnecessary words against her skin as his fingers slowly explored her slick folds.  The evidence of her arousal again made him feel like pounding his chest and shouting in victory. “Or should I say,” he lifted his head just enough to catch her gaze as he slipped two fingers inside her, his movements far more confident than his inexperience should allow for, “your pleasure.”

Leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her breasts up to her neck to Hathev’s ear, Cross took up a steady stroking rhythm with his fingers. As he positioned himself half lying beside her, his erection insistent as it pressed against her hip, Cross watched her responses, absolutely fascinated with his ability to cause such a normally pristine and collected woman to come undone like this.

She shuddered as he penetrated her, the attention awakening a piece of her left dormant far too long only to rouse now with far more energy and vigor than could be contained, a piece of her being dying to be tended to, one that would not be contained or restrained for much longer.  Soft, yet intense moans escaped her breath and as the counselor permitted herself to fall into the whims of the sensations yet to come, a piece of her Vulcan discipline found its way to the surface.  Cross continued to fulfill his role intending to her needs, but as she had allowed herself to be swept up in the moment, she was neglecting her own responsibilities to him.

He had shifted to her side amid servicing her, an act that had pinned her arm between them as he pressed into her.  It was that hand, her right hand, which snaked its way between them, defying his weight, and found it’s mark as her fingernails scraped lightly along the length of his erection and back again before playfully teasing with his tip as they traced small circles of their own.  Cross gasped when he first felt her fingernail trace along the length of him.  Involuntarily his hips rolled forward, giving her more access.  Her other hand, her left reached for him as she herself turned on her side to face him, and cupped his ass, pulling him closer to her as her leg slid on top of his, granting the double benefit of not only pinning him into her embrace, but also making herself a bit more accessible than even just a moment ago.

Leaning forward, Cross captured Hathev’s lips in another deep kiss, his tongue mimicking his fingers as they delved in and out of her moist warmth. His hips began to rock, his length sliding between her fingers, as instinct took hold of the edge of his mind, demanding he increase the pace, demanding he find release.

“I want you, Hathev,” Cross leaned into her as he pressed his lips against the pulse point in her neck, lightly raking his teeth over her skin despite the intensity growing within his body.  “Now.”

Using his superior weight and strength, he moved their bodies until she lay atop him, straddling him, all the control of when and how they were to come together in her hands, so to speak.  “But you determine the pace.”

The quick motion and change of position proved a bit disconcerting as she had not expected Cross to make such a bold move and she was unsure as to whether she welcomed the literal and physical position change.    The last time she had been with a male partner had been onboard the Damascus and even then, it had been a more traditional Vulcan encounter.  Tonight, she had welcomed Cross’s lead, welcomed his control over her and, to a certain extent desired that arrangement between them.    At the same time, if she was to give him what he wanted, and this was what he wanted, was it not logical to assert the control he desired?  Yes.

Shifting her weight to kneel she sat back, rising to her full height, diminutive though it was and permitting him to see her without obstruction as she threw her head back and ran her hands through her hair.  Then, without verbal warning, she leaned forward, allowing herself to fall on top of him, but her hands came down, clamping around his wrists and pinning them near his head.  Hathev lowered herself, her breasts hanging free, teasing and tantalizing, but momentarily out of his reach as her nipples brushed lightly against the skin of her chest and her hair cascaded around her, enveloping both their heads in a curtain of her raven black locks.

Cross couldn’t help the smile when it played at his lips, his hands coming up to lightly move through the dark tresses that hid the room from his view as she leaned over him.  Looking down, his smile turned more predatory at the sight of her breasts hanging free and tempting in the air between them.

“My pace, you say?”

She shifted her hips backwards, until she felt his erection against her rear. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth when she rocked her rear against his erection. His hands immediately moved to her hips, not to still her or to pressure her to move, but for the security he needed. The security of having her warm flesh beneath his fingers, the weight of her body pressed so intimately against him.

“I dare say, Mr. Cross, I am skeptical you have the discipline to be that patient.”

Her words belied her intent.  The heat within her impatiently demanded it’s satisfaction and his words described her desire as well as his own.  Still, she saw no reason not to play this out and see where things went.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

Her challenge-laced comment made Cross smirk. To prove her wrong, Cross forced himself to pull his hands away from her hips and laced his fingers beneath his head, laying splayed on the bed for all the world as if it was an everyday occurrence to have a beautiful woman straddled nude across his lap.

“Never underestimate undisciplined determination, Ms. Hathev. I never back down from a challenge.” His grin widened, his eyes remaining on her face as he purposefully shifted his hips, his erection rubbing against.  “In fact, I typically rise to the occasion.”

Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] The Counselor's Counselor

Reply #29
[Lt Cmdr Cross & Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Cross's Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring

Hathev was far more taken by the position in which she now found herself to react to Cross’s obvious pun. This was not something she was accustomed to, so she took a moment to slow down and see if Cross was as good as he boasted. She sat back on his pelvis, his erection pushing against her gluteals, serving as a constant reminder of his arousal. She stretched, arching her back as her hands came up, first to sort her hair back behind her head and then back down to her breasts, giving them a gentle massage. More for his enjoyment than for hers. Then she looked at him as if for the first time she had seen him in the midst of the encounter.

“Oh,” she said flatly before allowing the teasing tone she had heard so many times from others to enter her voice for the first time. “Did you want these for yourself?”

Cross smirked. Though his hand twitched to replace Hathev’s in the massage of her supple flesh, Cross held back. There was something heady in watching her pleasure herself while feeling her pressed so intimately against his member. Nothing quite so intoxicating as watching a woman enjoy herself, feeling confident in her own flesh, finding pleasure as she gave pleasure. Cross had heard such sentiments before, but he had put little stock in them, having had no previous experiences in the bedroom. Yet, as he lay beneath her front-row seat, so to say, of the show her movements gave him, Cross realized the weighty truth of those sentiments. Of course, he wanted to move forward with their lovemaking, and yet he understood on a personal level, now, why it was men became voyeurs to their partners: watching their partners’ hands glide over flesh and curls, seeking a resolution to the tension their own fingers created.

Finally finding his voice, as roughened as it was with arousal, Cross spoke with a smile, “My entire body is yours, Hathev, to find pleasure and comfort.” Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her down, chest-to-chest, faces close. “And I take yours in return.”

His words fueled the fire, already a roaring flame but still building within her. Never would her rational mind have appreciated the idea of being ‘taken.’ It was provocative, erotic, and to a certain extent…desirable. She offered no resistance as he pulled her down on top of him and let her breasts press into his chest, an ever-present reminder to him of just how aroused she had become in such a short amount of time. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his head into her cleavage, allowing him to sample her bosom before withdrawing just enough so they could make eye contact again. Her hand cupped the side of his face, a poor technique for a proper mind meld, but good enough to reinforce the touch telepathy and open the door so he could hear in his mind, as well as his ears, what she was about to say. “Well then, Mr. Cross. I think it is well past time you take what is rightfully yours.”

Warm. No. Burning. The emotional fire that flowed through Hathev's touch forced a guttural gasp from Cross. He was falling. No. He was cradled against her chest, the softness of her breasts pressing against his skin, the pounding of her heart echoing through the touch. Cross threw his arm to the side, cybernetic fingers breaking through the surface of his bed; he'd not trust his prosthetic while in the throes of such passion. The scent of her skin, a unique blend of natural musk, and whatever womanly accessory she regularly applied post-ablution branded itself to his brain. As Cross allowed the combined power of their desire to overtake him, he bucked his hips and followed through with an assertive push against her shoulder until Hathev was beneath him again. There were no more words to be spoken. No more gentle caresses to be traded in the shadowy interior of his half-lit sleeping quarters. Cross pulled one of Hathev's legs up with his flesh hand, braced it against his side, and entered her in one thrust. No hesitation, and assuredly no regrets. The immensity of his pleasure, combined with hers, the newness of the sensation of being sheathed in her warmth, was all that kept Cross from falling off completely into the wanton abyss of pleasure. Through the haze of it all, Cross brought his gaze up to meet Hathev's, his voice broken when he spoke.

"Are you all right?" On the coattails of rational thought came the reminder of his inexperience. Bracing his weight on his prosthetic, Cross moved his hand up over Hathev's breast to touch the suppleness of her cheek. "Do I need to do anything differently?"

Hathev gasped as he penetrated her. In her years of experience, her various intimate encounters, she had never been entered in this way before, as her previous male lover had engaged with during his Pon Farr, and they had mated in the traditional Vulcan way. Conscious thought left her as she arched her back and dug her hands into the mattress, her fingers finding purchase where her lover had previously torn through. Her legs curled around him, welcoming his entrance but also preventing his exit. On some level, she heard him speak to her, but as her head swam in the rush of endorphins, neurotransmitters, and sensory input, she offered no verbal reply as her instinctive self took control, and she began gyrating under him, riding what he had offered, her own juices offering natural lubrication. Indeed, no more words needed to be exchanged, their telepathic connection now stronger than ever. No more words to exchange, but Hathev needed no words. For as the rush coursed through her ordinarily calm, organized, and controlled psyche, she knew she now had a new way of communicating. She had her emotions.

He felt her shudder beneath his touch then, whatever momentary pause the initial penetration had caused ended, and Hathev’s body took to undulating against his. Cross dipped his head down, placing lips and teeth against the flesh of her shoulder. Panting out incomprehensible words against her flesh, Cross drove his hips forward to meet her, his shaft sinking further into her warmth. Every sensory nerve was aflame with pleasure. Cross felt the build in his belly, the incessant NEED that invigorated his movements with fierce passion and burned away conscious thought. Cross moved together with Hathev on instinct alone. Their bodies entwined and writhing as one, seeking out pleasure as pleasure was given, the room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking. She gasped as she fell into rhythm with him, and the world melted away around them, leaving no concept of time or place. Only Hathev, Cross and their shared pleasure...building...building....building even more. His thrusts grew faster, more intense, continuing to drive the moment until, with a guttural cry that reverberated off the walls, Cross emptied himself into Hathev. Reaching her own apex, Hathev threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent moan of ecstasy that devoured them both. Their minds swam with not only the euphoria of their own releases but also the lingering echoes of that of their partner.

Lowering his head to rest his cheek against hers, his breath still came out in pants as his heart began its slow return to a regular rhythm. Arms and legs wrapped around him as she pulled him into her embrace, their heads swimming with a haze of fulfillment, but for each of them, enough conscious thought for them to know they had found much more than physical companionship. For the Counselor, it was the realization that her newfound emotional state, while potentially volatile, did have merit worth further exploration. For his part, the Counselors Counselor found himself feeling at home and at peace for the first time in years.
Lieutenant Enyd Isolde Madsen, Assistant Chief Diplomatic Officer

Lieutenant Commander Cross, Chief Tactical Officer

 
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