TROPICAL RAIN
Title: Tropical Rain
Author: Starshadow starshadow AT starshadow DOT net
Series: TOS
Pairing: K/S
Rating: NC-17
Feedback yes
Summary: The boys meet some interesting water critters on a real shore
leave
Disclaimer: ParaBorg owns the kids. I am only playing with them and
giving them a lil' anniversary present. No actual squid-like creatures
harmed or molested in the making of this fanfiction. Fair use only, no
profit. Darnit. Do not expose to wind, salt, or frightened neocons.
Not to be administered internally to children or pets. Part of the
WetFest challenge. About damn time, I know.
Beta: Ginger. All mistakes mine.
Archive: ASC, ASCEML and the like. All others please ask.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
It wasn't that Spock did not like rainstorms. The first time he had
been caught in one was on the planet of his mother's birth, walking to
his dormitory after classes one day. It seemed to him that the rain
was warm to the humans around him. He was clad in his usual plantsilk
undergarments which kept him warm enough in summer but did not show
through his thin cadet's uniform, so while he was getting soaked, he
enjoyed the feeling of the water. Vulcan rarely had rainfall, and when
it did, it was more like a mist—quickly formed and as quickly gone.
That first time, Spock had been oblivious to the soaking. He had been
too fascinated by the fact that it existed at all as he walked back to
the dorm with his head turned up at the sky. He'd marvelled at the
sheer amount of moisture contained in the clouds as they soaked the
campus, the greenery, and of course, himself.
It was only when he arrived at his destination that he realized how
wet he'd become. He had gone to his dormitory room and divested
himself of his wet clothing. He'd had to peel the soggy uniform off,
and he'd shivered uncontrollably even after he donned his family
meditation robe, permissable once his classes were over for the day.
He had spent the next few hours in front of the artificial fire in the
student lounge, nursing hot tea and trying to warm up, narrowly
escaping some respiratory ailment that had been making its rounds.
While his half-Vulcan genotype made him resistant to human pathogens,
he could still catch cold, though he rarely did.
Remembering this, it was concern for his health that made him duck
under cover when it began to rain on the beach near the cabin he'd
booked for his bondmate's anniversary surprise. He was unsurprised by
Jim's delight in the rain. The planet's climate was tropical, and the
rain was far warmer than the rain Spock remembered from his walks in
San Francisco, on Earth. Still, he did not want to spoil their rare
leave by getting ill. Jim, born and raised on Earth, felt no such
concern.
"C'mon, Spock, it feels great!" Jim was exuberant. Spock had rarely
seen him this relaxed. They had a full ten-days before Enterprise
would pick them up again. Jim was taking full advantage of his leave
to do what he called "letting his hair down". A most illogical phrase,
Spock thought. Jim's regulation short hair was as "down" as it got. He
was standing where the waves of the beach were lapping at his feet,
laughing as they kissed his toes, then running out to join the bigger
waves of the crystal clear water.
Spock looked around at the delightful scene from where he stood under
the elevated rim of the balcony on their cabin, with its slope from
the front walk down to the shore. Jim was wearing a smile and some
tropical print shorts and nothing else. The azure waves were teasing
the sugar-white sand which was turning darker under the fat raindrops
that showered down from the clouds that skittered across the sky in a
high breeze that barely touched the surface of the planet. This
planet, too, had a yellow sun, and it seemed to flirt with the clouds,
now sending sparkles through the water, now hiding its face, now
caressing the golden body of the man who stood, arms raised as if
receiving the benediction of sun and rain.
Spock thought he looked as though sunlight worshipped him.
Cautiously he toed his shoes off and stepped out to where Jim stood.
His black shirt and shorts were chosen to keep him warm, though he
knew Jim also liked seeing him in black. Once by his husband's side,
Spock was met with an embrace which almost took his breath away. Not
that the human clasped so hard, but the sheer exuberance of Jim's
emotions washed over him in a way that inexplicably made him want to
smile. He easily repressed the urge, though his eyes twinkled as the
fat raindrops hit him, wetting him all over. It did feel good. Jim
felt good. He allowed himself to hug back.
This unbending was only for his mate, only in private. Jim
appreciatively ran his hands around the lean and hot body, snaking up
under the shirt. Spock repressed a shiver—the hands were cool to the
point of shock at first, though they quickly warmed up under the
human's relentless touch. Bending just a little, the Vulcan's mouth
claimed the sweet lips in a kiss which soon deepened as tongues danced
and both ignored the soaking they were getting. *you taste good * came
the cool thoughts of the human.
Amusement sparkled down the silver and gold strands of the Bond. Jim
caught it and fed back a bit of fire, as he teased the hollows near
the Vulcan's spine with just his fingertips. Spock looked around. They
were alone on this glorious beach in the rain, getting soaked to the
skin, and because of the warmth, Spock found himself enjoying it—and
the growing answering warmth in his groin—immensely.
A low sound came from the depths of the taller man's chest, a purring
growl that was beginning to light a fire in the other man as well.
Spock pulled back again, making certain their privacy was
complete—theirs was the only cabin on this beach, but they were not
the only tourists on this planet, and the beach was accessible by
others. No one else seemed to be daring the weather, however. And it
was quite early.
Encouraged, he bent again to his mate's neck. Sharp white teeth nipped
at the junction between neck and shoulder and Jim shivered
deliciously. Spock began a series of quick nips followed by the
application of the narrow tongue soothing the pain and turning it into
white heat. Meanwhile the cool human hands were roaming down to
squeeze and knead a pair of hot softly furred buns, then caressing
around the lean body to cup the genitals which were already beginning
to tent the shorts and briefs he was wearing. But not for long.
Mischievously, the hands tugged the shorts and briefs both downward,
and before Spock could react, Jim was kneeling in the gentle surf and
running an appreciative tongue around the shaft, lapping at it for all
the world like it was his favorite flavor of ice cream.
Ice it definitely wasn't. Spock threw back his head and with
difficulty kept himself from falling. *T'hy'la! * came a ragged mental
cry. * Thee are wicked!* Hot fingers ran through sandy blond hair, and
the head came forward again as Spock tried not to breathe in the water
that still caressed them both like a benediction. His hips moved of
their own volition.
Jim moved teeth out of the way, sensing Spock was already close, and
engulfed the velvet head, still teasing at the sensitive spot between
the ridges. Then he unclenched his throat muscles, took the whole
shaft in to the root, and swallowed, muscles clenching the Vulcan's
cock and making it twitch and the ridges flare.
Steadying himself with one hand on his husband's hip, Jim used the
other to grasp his own burgeoning cock, and managed to pump it in time
with the movements of his mouth as he first pulled back, then took
Spock in again deep enough that his nose was almost tickled by the
dark hair. He swallowed again. And again, throat muscles caressing the
sensitive spots on Spock's sex. He could feel the buildup through the
Bond, fueled by his own pending loss of control. His hand on the lean
hip moved behind it and fingertips ran circles around the chenesi
swelling a little in its hollow, and Spock came, hard, crying out
something incomprehensible in Vulcan along with Jim's name.
Jim pumped again with his other hand and soon spurted as well. His
shorts were already wet in the surf and rain, and now dripped wetter
and sticky from his seed, which also coated his hand. His ragged
breathing echoed by Spock's slowed as a lean body knelt next to him,
heedless of the shorts and briefs around lean ankles and a warm mouth
kissed him, then lifted the human's sticky hand to the Vulcan's lips
and he felt the lapping of his husband's tongue. Another kiss, and he
tasted his own essence overlaying the spicy heat of Spock's unique
flavor.
Jim kissed him back, then stood, tossed his shorts under the balcony
edge where Spock had stood, and said, "Come on, Spock. The water's
fine!" Teasing, he slapped the furry buns and ran into the surf,
diving when it was deep enough.
Spock looked at his husband swimming in the rain for a long minute
before picking up his discarded shorts and briefs and methodically
removing the shirt he'd worn and walking through the sand to place
them above the waterline. With a sigh, thinking he should go get
towels first, he followed Jim into the sea. He was a good swimmer,
though he didn't often indulge. But he could never resist Jim's
invitations, even though they were sometimes against his better
judgement.
Still, he found himself enjoying this. As they swam, Spock noticed
that suddenly they were in the midst of a colony—school?--of tentacled
creatures, inquisitive and curious, with the ability to camoflage
themselves. First they appeared to be fish, then as they touched the
skins of the men who swam among them, Spock realized they were
intelligent and somewhat telepathic. Not sentient, precisely. But as
they picked up thought impressions, they morphed into sea otters, then
smallish dolphin like creatures, then what the Vulcan thought must be
their normal forms, not unlike terrestrial squid.
When the two men came up for air, the squid-like creatures stayed with
them. Spock was delighted. They kept radiating color patterns, and
then would pick up a thought and change into another form. They
couldn't change their dimension, but otherwise the illusions were
perfect. The rain began to stop, and still the creatures stayed with
them. They seemed fascinated with the human's penis. Maybe they
thought it was a kind of tentacle.
Jim didn't seem to mind, but Spock had an illogical flash of annoyance
when he saw soft tentacles drape themselves around his husband's groin
and tease his entrance.
One bold creature tried for the Vulcan's groin—but was met with a
chilling thought and quickly retreated. Jim, on the other hand, while
trying feebly to push the creature away, found himself unable to
resist the velvet soft, but strong tentacles that wrapped themselves
around him and caressed him to hardness. He gasped and might have
breathed in water had not Spock caught him and tried to push the
creature away—to no avail. After a few minutes of this stimulation,
Jim came noisily again and the creature changed colors to an almost
pink blush as if happy and shy.
"Am I some kind of perv?" Jim asked his mate as he tread water and
shook it out of his hair.
"The creature was quite persistant, and you are a normal human male. I
have read of human males who would couple with anything if they did
not have other outlets. However," he added, "you do have me. Are you
in need of more stimulation?"
"Well, Mr. Spock, I wasn't. Or I didn't think I was. That
was...interesting."
"Indeed."
Jim turned to swim to shore and Spock followed. One of the creatures
followed them. When they got to where they could stand up in chest
high water, Jim murmured, "Houston, we have a problem." There was a
family now on the shore, very near their cabin. A couple of children,
a husband and wife, a picnic basket—and their clothes, out of reach on
the shore.
"Indeed." Spock was slightly annoyed with himself. How had he allowed
himself to get into this situation?
Jim had an idea. He picked up the squid-like creature and sent a
thought its way, and it abruptly changed its appearance to resemble a
small loincloth, pattered much like the shorts which lay out of reach.
Whistling to himself, he draped it around his hips, and the creature
obligingly folded itself around his body. As he strode blithely out of
the water, the creature flickered once and settled into its camoflage
state, and the husband waved companionably at Jim, who waved back as
nonchalantly as he could manage. He found the shorts, took them in
hand, and strode back into the water. He discreetly handed Spock his
shorts, and carefully peeling the creature off him. He donned his own,
before shooing the creature away.
"Mm, Spock. I do have a small other problem.."
"Yes, Jim?"
Jim gestured to his shorts, which showed that he was still aroused.
Spock leaned over him. "There is a way to remedy this," he said. Jim
closed his eyes, anicipating at least a kiss, but instead Spock's
hands slid to the meld points, and his mind joined his mate's. Spock
assisted Jim in willing blood flow away from the human's dick, and it
wilted.
"Not exactly what I had in mind," said Jim, a little disappointed.
"But at least we aren't making a public display of ourselves."
"Precisely. I suggest we retire to the cabin, James. There, I will
teach you...other techniques more to your liking."
Jim, cheered, hitched up his wet shorts and strode purposefully toward
the shore. At least the family couldn't get close enough to be a
nuisance. But with the squidlike creatures around, maybe it would be
better to do his swimming in that private little hot tub that came
with the place. Spock, following, caught the thought and sent back an
assent down the Bond. "For," he said aloud, "it is distressing enough
to compete with the many women that sometimes gather around you,
James, but to have to compete with non-sentients as well is,as I
believe the expression is, 'beyond the pale'."
"Look at it this way, Mr. Spock," Jim said with a grin, "at least they
won't enlist in StarFleet to follow me!"