DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2022 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.

The Whisper of Your Kiss

by Djinn

Spock is not given to dreams. When he has them, they are nightmares. Brought on by stresses—his human half reaching for this traditionally human method of decompressing. It only happens when meditation fails him, when he cannot manage stress in an appropriately Vulcan way.

He has never had a nightmare with T'Pring in his bed—or if he has, she has not commented. And he cannot ask, of course, for it might be one more point against him.

So human. Too human. Dreadfully human.

So why does he now have a dream that is not a nightmare? Why does he dream of a human, of Christine, of her standing close, her lips on his, her mouth opening to his just as it did—ever so slightly—on the bridge a few hours ago? Why in this dream does he hold on to her longer than he did on the bridge, why does he deepen the kiss, tongue finding tongue, and pull her close enough to show her how much he wants her?

Why in this dream does he turn to T'Pring and say, "As you can see, T'Pring, I love Christine" when in reality, Christine had to say it. Because he could not lie.

Or because she thought him saying it would be a lie. Because he hesitated, and she thought he would not be able to say what needed to be said. She saved him as she has before and probably will again.

But she misread his hesitation. Hesitation can be caused by many things. By not being able to lie, of course, but also by realizing that what you are about to say is the truth—a truth that will change everything you thought you wanted. That will change your life.

It is not unnatural to hesitate a moment before changing one's life.

Christine did not give him that moment. What if she had?

T'Pring lies next to him. Beautiful. Supple skin and glossy hair, even after making love with him after renewing their bond. She sleeps and her face is free of care.

T'Pring does not dream. She does however move in sleep and make small beautiful sounds.

So why does he look at her and whisper, "I love Christine" and it feels...right? Not a lie. Not a lie at all.

She opens her eyes. She does not speak. She does not berate even with her expression.

She studies him and he feels the discomfort he used to as a young boy trying to be logical enough, brilliant enough—Vulcan enough.

"I wondered if you would have the courage to speak it or if you would merely make me feel it through our touches." There is nothing in her voice, no anger, no hurt—and no love.

Christine said she liked Vulcans because they are honest. He was not honest with T'Pring when he re-engaged the bond, and T'Pring has not been honest with him about his brother.

No, technically, that is inaccurate. He has not asked if she was holding his brother under a false name. He has not thought he had to.

So she has not lied except by omission.

But the spirit of the deception—it is, he thinks what makes her so unforgiving right now. That she is not blameless in this.

Or does he just want to think that so he can have what he wants? White blonde hair and blue eyes and a smile that makes him feel lighter when he sees it. A smile that changes when it is just for him.

Christine has a smile that is just for him. She could have any man but she wants him.

This makes him...happy.

"Have you nothing to say, Spock?" T'Pring slips out of bed as gracefully as she does everything, pulling on her clothing, her eyes never leaving his except for the moments that fabric comes between them. She will give him no quarter in this.

He imagines how Christine might undress. Her laughter as she tugs off her jumpsuit, how she might jump on one leg as she pulls her boot off, how she would say, "Come here" so she could hold on to him as she exchanged regulation boots for the high heels she wore when she first gave him romantic advice.

Her legs looked very long in those high heels.

He imagined how those legs would feel wrapped around him.

He has been unfaithful to T'Pring for such a long time and did not know it.

"I am sorry, T'Pring."

"There is nothing to be sorry for. This has been a learning experience for me. Best to stick to one's own kind. And your kind is surely human." She whirls but then turns back. "The necklace."

He does not wear it while on duty, so he rises, walking naked to his closet, finding the box of treasures—what would she think of the other things in this box? Too human perhaps?

He carries the necklace out to her. "I valued this above all other belongings."

"Until you did not." She meets his eyes and holds up her fingers. "Spock. Parted from me and never parted."

He does not hesitate. "Never and always touching and touched."

Her voice is ice. "I sever what was."

He cannot make his voice ice; he feels too much regret. "With these words, T'Pring, you are freed of our bond." He waves his fingers to the side and down.

"I hold it broken, Spock." She follows suit. Examining the necklace, holding it so it shines in the low light, she lets it swing back and forth. Then she walks to the recycler and drops it in. "Beware how far you allow yourself to indulge your human side, Spock. You may earn yourself a cell next to your brother."

He can think of several rejoinders to that statement, some quite hurtful, but he thinks she needs to have the last word so he lets them lie unused.

But he knows he will not end up in a cell for the simple reason that he is half human and was never expected to equal his Vulcan peers: although he has tried to pretend it is not so, although he has striven to be what a good Vulcan should be, although he has taken pride—too much pride, perhaps—in the woman who would be his wife.

Would have been.

Who is walking out of his quarters now. Out of his life. She has made a name for herself and will no doubt stay at the rehabilitation facility and off Vulcan. He will probably not see her even when he returns home.

Will he do so with Christine by his side?

Does she even want that?

He just threw away everything he thought he wanted because of one kiss and a dream. For a woman who told him she avoids commitment.

But he does not dream. And he loves her.

And she loves him. He could feel that when they kissed. Could feel the affection, the desire, the remorse at the hurt their kiss would cause T'Pring, the deep unfettered caring and her desire to hide it from him.

To make his life easier. To help him.

She always wants to help him.

He is to his comm terminal before he can think better of it, says, "Spock to Chapel," and waits for her to answer or for the computer to say she has set her system on "Do Not Disturb."

Which he could, of course, override in an emergency. But this is not that even if it feels that way to him.

"Chapel here." She does not sound as if he has awakened her.

"Where are you?"

"Sickbay. Filling field packs."

"May we meet to talk?"

"We don't have to. If this is about what happened. I know why you did it. I'm not taking it personally."

She is giving him every out. She will continue to do that so he stops her with the truth. "What if I am taking it personally?"

"T'Pring is on the ship, Spock. Are you really telling me this when she's probably lying in your bed asleep?"

"She has left. She will not be back."

There is a long silence and he thinks the connection has cut out, but then she says, "Oh." Then there is another long silence. "So you undid the bond again? Are you supposed to do it over and over again?"

"No. It is no doubt indicative of our ultimate compatibility."

He is taking a risk. Making a jest at T'Pring's and his expense, but also he feels it is what she would do.

And she laughs. He feels such relief because she laughs. "So, you want to talk?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Not in your room. You just made love to her, didn't you?"

"I did. But I dreamt of you afterwards. Of our kiss."

"You broke up with her because of a dream?" She sounds incredulous.

"I do not dream, Christine. Other than occasional nightmares when I am under great stress. I do not have dreams that are...pleasant."

"Oh."

He wishes they were not audio only; he wishes he could see her expression. "May I come to you?"

"Here, in sickbay or in my quarters?"

"Both. Neither. Wherever pleases you." He is sounding indecisive. He does not think she will like that.

But he can hear the smile in her voice when she says, "Meet me in the science lab in ten minutes."

"Which science lab?"'

"Guess." And the connection goes dead.

He feels a rush of frustration fill him, but forces it down. No. He knows her. He knows her well. He may in fact know her better than he does T'Pring.

She will not choose the one closest to sickbay. That would be too easy.

She will not choose the one farthest from it, because that would be too obvious.

He pulls up the science lab schedules. Rules out four of them with ongoing experiments as being potentially too crowded for a talk of the kind they will have.

That leaves three. One is nearer his quarters, one hers, and one almost exactly in between.

He heads to the last one.

She turns from the viewscreen when he walks in. "Smart cookie."

"I know you well."

"You do, don't you?" She moves slowly toward him. "Are you normally impulsive? How many times have you broken up with her before now?"

"Never. But to be fair I was not betrothed to her until just before you reported on board. But even before, when I was courting her—or she me, rather—I was faithful."

"Until you had to kiss me."

"I did not have to kiss you. I could have told T'Pring I love you."

"No, don't lie to me." She suddenly looks puzzled. "Okay, you can't lie. So you just said you could have told her you love me. But not if it was a lie. So it's..." She moves another step closer to him. "Not a lie."

"It is not." He takes the few steps to close the gap. Reaches for her hair but then says, "May I touch you?"

"You may. And thanks for asking."

"I am assuming it is a blanket permission. If I venture anywhere you do not like, please let me know."

"Will do." She is smiling, the almost impish smile that is one of his favorites. She is so full of life, so...sparkling. He touches her hair gently, running one finger, then two down the waves.

"You may also touch me, Christine. If you wish."

"Good to know." She puts her finger over his, riding it as he travels over her hair again, then onto her cheek, to her lips.

"I tasted your lips in my dream." He moves closer and pulls her to him the way he did on the bridge. "I felt how you fit against me, how your arms felt around me."

She licks her lips, a nervous gesture he thinks, but he wants to taste the difference, how her lips feel after she has licked, and he kisses her.

And she kisses him back. And he wants to do more. He wants to do everything. But he can feel from her that she does not want that.

Not right now.

Not while his sheets smell of T'Pring.

Not when he has been free of the bond for only a short time.

Not when he did this on what she no doubt considers a whim.

She loves him—he can feel that, her regard pounding through him wherever their skin makes contact—but she will require some work on his part.

"May I meet you for breakfast, tomorrow?"

She nods and they go back to kissing and he eases her up on a stool and tries to not push against her too much when she wraps her legs around him.

"May I meet you for dinner, also?"

"No lunch?"

"I do not eat lunch."

"Dinner too, then." She puts her hands on either side of his face.

"May I meet—" He has to stop talking because she has her hand over his mouth.

"Repeat after me. 'Christine has a life with friends and other people who are not named Spock that she also meets up with.'"

"Understood." He allows himself a small smile. "I look forward to eventually making love to you."

"Big talker. You'll be lucky to get to second base."

"I have never understood those terms." He presses against her slightly, so she can feel how much he wants her.

"You may not understand them but your better half down there does." She is smiling his favorite smile again, pulling him in for another kiss.

A deeper one, their mouths open, their tongues exploring. As they finally pull away, she whispers in his ear, "First base achieved, Mister Spock. So use your imagination what second might be. Here, I'll draw you a map." She takes her finger and runs it from his lips, down his chin and neck and chest to his navel, then pulls her hand away.

"Most intriguing."

"Mmm hmmm." She touches his cheek and he leans into her, wishing she could feel what he is feeling the way he can for her. A meld, eventually, will show her. What base would that be? He believes there is something called a grand slam that involves all the bases, so perhaps that?

He will tell her that when it is time to meld; he believes it will make her laugh.

He wants to make her laugh.

"A few demands before we say goodnight." She has her hands on her hips the way he enjoys, slightly bossy, slightly leaning forward as if totally at his disposal.

"Anything you wish."

"Get new sheets. Don't just refresh the ones you've got now."

"Understood." He lifts an eyebrow. "Should I request the same courtesy? Do you entertain lovers in your quarters?"

"Are you kidding? You can't make a hasty exit from your own place."

"Will you wish to do that from my quarters?"

She shrugs as enigmatically as any Vulcan. "See that I don't, 'kay?"

"I will do my best. You said demands plural."

"You're the best conversation tracker ever. Going to come in very handy with me." She touches his cheek gently. "Don't stop being honest with me, all right? I mean I know you won't lie, but you could start keeping shit to yourself when before you'd have shared it. I like that you share things with me. I, in fact, love that you share things with me."

"I will share with you. I enjoy sharing with you. It is one reason I love you—that I feel the freedom to share with you what I have kept so close with others. I too have one demand."

"Spill."

"If you feel that commitment is not something you wish with me, then you must tell me as soon as you realize this."

"Will you not want to be around me if I do decide that? No friends-with-benefits for you?"

"No." He is being presumptuous and answering too quickly. But he dreamed of her. And he never dreams. "I believe I may be an 'all or nothing kind of guy.'" He has heard her use the term with Ortegas when they were in the lounge dissecting romantic encounters.

She narrows her eyes and studies him, the way she does a problem specimen, the way she does a patient who is not healing, the way she does a meal that has come out of the synthesizer in a form she does not expect.

It is, quite frankly, making him uncomfortable, but he does not break eye contact. He slides his hands down his sides to where her legs are still wrapped around him. He caresses her legs and envisions how they will feel when fabric is not between her skin and his. He makes sure this thought is foremost in his mind as he tries to increase the intensity in his eyes.

Her smile is a slow one, a sensuous one.

A new one.

He anticipates inventorying her expressions—which are used for general purpose, which for him alone.

She pulls him in for a quick kiss. "Since it's you and I'm really, really, really fond of you, I can live with all or nothing. If that changes, I'll let you know."

"Also, if I displease you in bed, you must tell me."

"Oh, honey. You think I won't train you up right? Did you know you're supposed to make your partner come at least three times before you do?"

"Only three? On Vulcan it is five." He sees her shock and then the realization that he is teasing her.

"I can live with five. Might not be able to walk, though." She eases her legs away and he backs up. "So, breakfast tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"I'll see you then." And she is up and out without even a backward look.

But she is laughing, her most delightful laugh of the ones he has heard, as the doors close behind her.

He hurries after her, suddenly not wanting her to walk alone to her quarters and nearly runs into her.

"You were going to lose big, big points if you didn't walk me home after all that." She leans in. "No PDA in public, right?"

"Probably best."

"Not like we've kissed on the bridge or anything. Is that a bingo square? Can we make our own version of Enterprise bingo?"

He tries very hard to bite back the small smile the thought evokes.

He fails.

FIN