In and Out of Time
The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance our long way home.
I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out
in and out
From the dry dock observation hangar, my husband and I watched as the USS Enterprise launched under the command of Captain Will Decker. Or rather, I watched Jim as he watched his former ship smoothly eject its moorings and slip graciously, soundlessly, into the vast ocean of space, its saucer flooded in light, nacelles hidden in shadow.
Around us, several dozen dignitaries from Earth and far flung planets applauded, whistled, waved, or vocalized in keeping with whatever gesture of approval their home worlds deemed appropriate. Jim remained silent, eyes locked on the viewing portal, his hand gripping mine. I squeezed. The hand I clutched perspired, although Jim himself appeared calm and composed. No doubt those who did not know him well thought nothing at all was amiss.
I knew better.
Jim and I had spent several hours with our former ship mates last evening, having dined with them in a private function room at our favorite space station restaurant, complete with a 360 degree observational lounge perched above the orbiting station.
Matt Decker was the first to depart, apologizing for having to rise early the next morning for pre-flight checks and a series of meetings with department heads and technicians. I suspect that Mr. Decker merely bowed out gracefully in order to give his veteran crew time to spend with their former captain, now Admiral - James Kirk.
Shortly after that, Doctor McCoy departed to catch his shuttle back to Georgia. His granddaughter Kate had a dance recital in the morning that he had promised to attend; every aspect of his daughter’s life that he had missed out on while in deep space, Leonard was determined to make up for with his granddaughter. The good doctor embraced Jim, understanding Jim’s subtle melancholy – empathizing, but without a need to call Jim out on it, which really would have only served to make Jim feel guilty. (And for this alone the doctor had my undying respect.)
After McCoy’s departure, we continued to reminisce with them all – Uhura, Scott, Sulu, and Chekhov - over desserts; fresh fruit tortes, chocolate cakes and crème brulee. We stalled with coffee, tea and fire water, anything to delay the inevitable, until finally, none of us could see a reason to forestall their looming departure.
Finally, the time came, with Sulu and Chekhov standing simultaneously, by some silent, agreed-upon signal. The others followed suit.
Jim and I stood as well. “Leave long and prosper,” I offered up to my former shipmates, as I too, felt a twinge of emotion at our family-by-choice departing on their next grand adventure without Jim and me.
“Well, so long, Mr. Spock, Sugar,” Uhura said, having none of my formality. She reached out and steadied herself on my biceps and pulled herself up to kiss my left cheek. I felt a flush of her love for me ripple across my skin and make my lips mildly tingle. “Take care of Jim,” she said.
“I shall,” I said. Uhura threw herself into Jim’s embrace and the two murmured well wishes to one another.
Mr. Scott offered his hand to me. And I did not tighten my shields as his hand slid into mine. These were my shipmates, and besides Jim, the most beloved of relationships despite all the new ones that I had formed in our time in residence here on Earth. “We’re sure gonna miss ya, lad,” Scott said as he gripped my hand and pulsed briefly. What an odd thing, this human way of salutation, this ‘hand-shaking’. “And the admiral too,” Scott said, thrusting his hand into Jim’s.
“We shall miss your presence as well,” I assured him. He began to draw away from us with a half salute to the others.
“And Mr. Scott?”
“Do not drink too much.”
It had the desired effect on him; he unleashed a hardy guffaw. “Well now, laddie! I don’t like to make promises I can’t keep!”
Next came Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekhov, who offered ta’al, which I returned. A soft regret flitted through me with the departure of these two men, both of whom I had gotten to know better as we spent time together socially these past few months as both men were drawn close to Starfleet’s base as they prepared to take Enterprise out again.
Presently it was just Jim and I standing in the now-empty restaurant. It was four minutes past midnight. He held out his hand to me and I took it. He led me to large picture window and embraced me, turning us so that we had a view of the distant refitted Enterprise. He laid his head on my shoulder and rested there until our server gently cleared her throat from across the room. Jim lifted his head and we both turned toward her.
“Do you need a few minutes?” she asked. She knew who we were. She knew the circumstances of our gathering.
“No,” Jim said. “We’re ready to settle up.”
She came to us, and Jim quickly transmitted the funds to pay the food bill, and he included an extremely generous gratuity as well.
“Thank you very much Admiral Kirk, Doctor Kirk. It was a pleasure to serve you and your party. Please. Stay as long as you wish. We don’t close for another hour. The bar will be open.”
“Thank you,” Jim murmured to her, and she silently withdrew. He held out his arms to me again and I returned to them. And we remained that way for several more minutes. We watched several shuttles fly by on their return to Earth. No doubt, one of then contained the last of our departing shipmates, no doubt looking forward to spending their last evening on Earth in their own homes, their own beds, before reporting to the Enterprise at 1200 for their preflight check for an 1600 departure.
Finally, we too made our way to the shuttle depot and a short time later traversed the short distance from the terminal and up the hill to our home that overlooked the bay. It was high summer and the air was dank, heavy and chilly, as it often was in the Bay area. I had my hands tucked into my cloak, hood up.
Jim was tired and so I lay down with him although I had planned on remaining up for another 2.5 hours to work on my current dissertation. Time enough for that later; Jim was my first priority, always.
We lay in bed side by side, staring into the dark, each preoccupied with our own thoughts. Tomorrow, the USS Enterprise set sail without the legendary man who made that ship legendary. James T. Kirk. Even now, when I think of it, I marvel that I am consort to a living legend.
I love my life with him and cannot imagine being happier. Twenty-two days prior, we celebrated our two-year wedding anniversary and bonding. In March, Jim and I observed his 40th birthday with a sailing trip to Isla del Ray with our friends the Pratts and the Kirbys.
Jim personally oversaw some of the re-outfitting of the new and improved Enterprise, but as the time of launch drew nearer, I sensed a growing tension in Jim. We both knew this day would come, yet that hardly made it easier. I was consumed with guilt, which surprised me. I had thought that we had both come to terms with this long ago. Jim Kirk was Earthbound of his own volition. “No regrets, Spock. I swear it,” he suddenly said into the dark, as though reading my thoughts. I felt him shift, turn towards me. I moved towards him and we came together with his head on my shoulder.
Presently, I rose and removed my bedclothes, reclined and waited, silently offering myself to him. He reached a finger toward me as I settled on my side towards him, and gently ran his middle finger from my collar bone, down my arm and all the way down to the tip of my middle finger. Our finger pads tingled where they touched and I felt myself stir, blood pooling downwards, breath catching ever so slightly at my abrupt but not surprising arousal. But my gasp was audible enough for Jim to hear. His opened mouth closed on my top lip, suckling, tasting. He dipped his tongue into my mouth and I welcomed him in.
He rose on one elbow then, capturing, commanding my mouth as my tumescence rapidly grew. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and drew him to me as I turned onto my back until he rested his full weight on me. His penis, awakened, pressed into my groin. I inhaled him. He smelled of shampoo, cognac and bit of body musk, blended in a way that pleased and comforted me.
He shifted to pull down with one hand his cotton boxers; he wore nothing else. I assisted by sliding them down to his knees and he rolled from me to kick them off. We merely kissed one another for long moments, savoring, our breath deepening together as the fire was stoked. I ran my fingers through his hair; its silkiness tickling my fingertips.
Jim shifted from me and placed his hand at my crown and applied pressure. I obliged him, salivating as I slithered down, rotating us so that I was on top. His pungency there only stoked my fires as my body was reminded of the blissful orgasms he’d given me over our years of lovemaking. I settled between his legs and worshiped my husband’s cock, marveling at its virile power. I let the tip slide down my throat again and again as I bobbed. My hand stroked him in counter-rhythm.
His hands slipped into my hair and held on, tugging in a way that felt good. He began to control my rhythm and pressure. I allowed it. He soon began to tense and I eased off until he relaxed. I kissed and licked the tip, lulling him into complacency before I got serious again, suctioning hard as he moaned and panted. I backed off once more. He made no signal that he wanted anything other than this, so I continued with what I was doing for several more cycles, edging him, bringing him to the brink and pulling him back.
My own cock reminded me of its state by dripping fluid down my thigh and suddenly I wanted to be inside Jim more than anything. This was a rare state for me, as I preferred 8 to 1 to be the receptive partner. But tonight perhaps my body was merely answering his body’s needs.
I crawled from the crux of his thighs and I retrieved our slick from the bedside drawer and prepared my lover.
Shortly I was deep inside his tightness, his ankles on my shoulders. I thrust and I thrust and thrust, relishing our dual rhythm. His lips formed the beginning of my name – “Sp! Sp!” but he could not quite vocalize the rest. Nothing in the universe was better than this! Nothing!
I gave him the slow and steady strokes he needed to orgasm. He roared as he arched and spasmed, his tightness bearing down on my hard cock while he emptied himself against my chest. I then emptied myself into him rapid-fire once I saw that his satisfaction was complete.
“Thank you,” he whispered, body relaxing with utter satiety.
I retrieved some wipes from our bedside and cleaned us both, disposing of the cloths with two short hops from the bed.
“Sleep now?” I asked.
“Yes,” Jim murmured.
I held him as he drifted to sleep and then I rose again, slipping into my lounging robe. I removed myself to my workspace and continued work on my dissertation, sighing with deep contentment. I have always enjoyed working in the quiet tranquility of the night while the city and my husband slept. I enjoyed the seamless change from night to day. I paused for a few moments to step outside onto the balcony, observing the constellations that peered through a bit of high thin cloud cover. I then went back to work, the writing flowing easily.
But when the sun rose, I was there for Jim. I slipped back into bed again to kiss him awake. Before he even had opened his eyes, he was smiling. And when he opened them at last, the sun was shining there.