China Doll
S/m, NC17 by Greywolf the Wanderer

Golden O 2000, Best TOS S/m, second place.

The Andorian is lithe, slender, youthful. His expression, as he leans against the bar to show off his body, tells me that he knows what I am looking for. And he is correct; tonight, it may very well be him that I choose.

Were I truly free to choose, it would not be anyone in this place. But I am not, and I have accepted that because it is what *is*. Kaiidth.

He smiles and strikes another pose, and I make my decision. I drain my glass and gesture towards him. Yes. For tonight, here, I choose this one. He is clean, obviously of legal age, and pleasing to look upon. He will do. I will satisfy my needs and return to the ship, my secret still safe within me. That done, I will be able to resume my pretence of sexlessness once more, and none will be the wiser.

So it has been for me, ever since the pon farr rudely awakened me from my dream of innocence, the last of my youth. Ever since I realized, in that arena, what my true nature is, exactly what it is that I really desire -- and will probably never have.

He walks up the stairs ahead of me, allowing me to savour the shift and play of the muscles in his legs. He is indeed an attractive individual. Once he pauses, turns back to look at me, and smiles again when he sees the look on my face. I am not even trying to pretend I feel nothing. Not here, not now. It would be illogical, when to satisfy those feelings is the very reason I am here. I permit myself to return the smile, very slightly. A slim, pointed cobalt tongue slips out to moisten his lips, then vanishes as he turns away and resumes his ascent.

Yes. I watch his hips sway, watch the lean buttocks clench and relax as he climbs the stairs, and let myself feel the hunger that is growing within me. This is what I want, this is what I need. This is why I am here.

Even as the door to his room closes behind us he is in my arms, pressing himself against me. I can feel his own excitement through his skin -- and his hardness, now pressing against my leg. I pull him closer, allowing my hands to roam as they will, to savour the form and the textures of his firm young body. For tonight he is mine, for as long as I wish; there is no need to speak of money.

This is a very old, very discreet establishment. I learned of it listening to my shipmates talking in the mess-hall. Vulcan hearing is far better than most humans could ever imagine, a fact for which I often have cause to be grateful.

I look down into his beautiful turquoise eyes and am pleased to see the desire there, the match to my own. My Gift tells me that it is no lie. This one is not jaded and empty; this one enjoys his work. It is well. I could not lie with him, otherwise. I have learned that too well, these last few months.

He reaches up to kiss me and I permit it. I draw my fingers down the sides of his face, savouring the coolness of his skin, the softness of his silken hair. His eyes close for a moment and I feel his flesh twitch against my leg. Now it is my turn to kiss him, to caress those slim firm cheeks, to cup them in my hands. Ahhh... Yes. A faint gasp escapes him, and I know that I have chosen well. He kisses me again and I allow myself to let go, to explore the cool soft mouth, the faint spicy alien-ness of his tongue. He tastes good, and I feel my hunger growing.

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, he steps back and tilts his head and smiles at me. He gestures toward his bed and I permit myself again the smallest of smiles. It is a large and luxurious bed, piled high with pillows and furs, with sheets of Argeelian bee-silk, deep indigo blue. The air in here is delicately perfumed with the finest incense; soft strains of music can be heard, unobtrusive, in the background. A delightful place, in which I shall pursue my pleasure.

I follow him as he walks toward the bed, artlessly shedding his clothes. His body is even finer unclothed; he is slim without being thin, lightly muscled, hairless of body as are all his race, obviously in the best of health. Free of its restraints, his sex rises to announce his desire for me. I can feel my own straining to do likewise.

He sits down and gestures for me to stand before him. I do. I must work to control myself, as he reaches for the belt of my tunic and unties it, lets it drop. For obvious reasons I am not in uniform tonight; instead I wear a soft black Vulcan-style tunic and matching leggings. He is opening my tunic now, pushing it apart to reach within, to kiss and stroke my belly, my flanks. Ahh, he is good, this one. He presses his face against my groin, rubs himself against the hardness there, smiles when he feels the heat of my body, my eagerness for his touch. Neither of us speaks; there is no need.

I shiver as his fingers glide across my nipples, tugging playfully at the fur on my chest. It seems to intrigue him; he curls his fingers into it again and again, strokes his nails lightly across my now-aching nipples, pauses now and then to dip his tongue into the hollow of my belly. I shiver again, caught up in the sensations rippling through my body.

He looks up at me again, thinking, while he toys with me. My own thoughts are disordered, chaotic; I am becoming lost in sensation, in the pleasure of his touch and his scent, the feel of his fingers gently caressing my skin. Again I run my fingers through his hair -- and then, very carefully, I trail one fingertip along each of his antennae. I know that they are very sensitive; I wish to please him, not to hurt him... Ahh, yes. He likes this. Now it is his turn to shiver and to close his eyes for a moment. I repeat my action, still very delicate, barely touching him. A shudder runs through him and I see that a drop of palest blue has formed at the tip of his now very erect sex.

I am pleased. Pleasure shared is pleasure increased; I am not widely experienced but I have learned this much, in the time since my pon farr.

He reaches around behind me; gently he pulls at my leggings, pulls them down over my hips. He smiles as he lifts the waistband over my straining erection, then pulls them lower still, until I can rest my hands on his shoulders and step out of them, and my shoes. It is pleasantly warm in here; when he pushes my tunic down off my shoulders I let it, too, fall to the floor, comfortable in our shared nudity. I am fully erect now, the sheath withdrawn, the ridges flared. Just the air moving upon my skin is nearly too much for me...

He leans forward and touches the tip of that pointed tongue to my penis -- ah! It is well that his hands are grasping my hips, for I cannot control the shudder that takes me. Again he does this, and once more, then bends to take me in his mouth, so gently, so soft and cool...

Ahhh... Oh, this is pleasure indeed... I lose myself in it, in him; my whole awareness is my flesh within his mouth, the swirling of his tongue, the pressure as he swallows, sucking at me so gently. Ohh, yes... My eyes are closed, now; I have to struggle to remain standing, for I do not want this to end...

Still gentle, he withdraws. As I reluctantly open my eyes and force myself to focus I see that he is smiling once again, licking his lips. He lies back against the silk; his sky-blue skin and silver hair make a delightful contrast to the deep rich indigo of the fabric, as if he were some priceless work of erotic art. In places his colour is deeper; his lips, his sex, the space between his legs and beneath his arms, his nipples -- these are a deeper blue, closer to cerulean than the clear light blue of the rest of his skin. His eyes are luminous, a bright, deep turquoise. I have never seen eyes of quite that colour before. He smiles again and pats the bed beside him, gesturing for me to join him there. Trembling now with the strength of my hunger, I do so.

With smooth, gentle touches he eases me, stroking my body with his cool, soft hands, pausing now and then to kiss a nipple, or my sex, or my brow. Finally my trembling stops; he looks up then and reaches for a kiss, his mouth just as soft and delicious as my memory of it. He does not appear to move yet he has flowed into my arms, pressed himself against me, undulating gently as I hold him ever more tightly. He feels delightful; he is truly concerned for my pleasure, something I am not at all accustomed to feeling. In turn I wish also for him to enjoy our time together. I reach up and very gently stroke his antennae once more. He sighs and closes his eyes; a wave of deep, relaxed joy flows through him, and I feel its echo in myself.

Though his skin is cool compared to my own, where our bodies rub together there is heat and moisture aplenty. Both of us are hard and eager; whatever slight differences may exist are eclipsed by the pleasure that we share.

He pulls gently at my shoulders, guiding me to roll on top of him; I do so, to find that this is even more pleasant than it was to lie beside him. He is moving beneath me, gently lifting his hips and letting them fall; his hands are stroking my body, pausing on my lower back to feel for the hollows there and to stroke them -- ah!

Ahhh, that feels *good*! Ah, *yes*! That is... ah-ai, that is *amazing*... No-one has done this with me before. I did not know it would feel so good. My Time is months past, now. The chenesi are inactive, as they will remain until my next pon farr. I had no idea... Ohhh...

I realize that my own hips are moving now, that I have fallen into the oldest most instinctive rhythm of all, thrusting against him, sliding in the moisture between our bellies. So good, so soft his skin... Oh, this is *good* -- but I need more, I am hungry, I want...

He is smiling and kissing me again, and in his hands is a small glass jar filled with sweet-smelling oil... Of course -- he knows what I want, almost before I know it myself. I let myself slide off to one side and take the jar he offers me. The oil inside it is warm and smells of citrus and sweet herbs. It is a delightful scent; as I rub it on my skin and on his, the scent intensifies, without ever becoming intrusive. He reaches up to kiss me once more, then rolls to one side, offering me his body to touch as I will. Truly he is beautiful; I did not fully realize this when I made my choice, but the longer I look on him the more pleasing he is to my eyes. I stroke his back, allowing my fingers to slide between his cheeks, to caress the cleft and what hides within it. He shivers and makes a soft, almost purring noise, deep in his throat. I dip my fingers in the oil and return to my quest, rubbing it into his skin, between his legs... I caress his penis with my oily hand and he surges back against me for an instant -- it is good, he likes this as much as I do. Now I apply more oil between his cheeks; I find the small opening there and very gently press within it. He is as clean here as he is elsewhere; his flesh grasps greedily at my intruding fingers and I feel a fresh surge of moisture form at the tip of my penis.

Again I apply more oil, and once more, pleased that I can control myself even in this; that even though I hunger to leap upon him and take him with all the fire of my distant ancestors, I can wait, I can be gentle. Finally his body is relaxed, open, ready for me. I set the jar aside and pull him to me. We are still lying on our sides, now spooned together. His hips push back against me and he stretches in my arms, like a cat. I am as hard as I have ever been in my life; it takes but a moment to reach down and guide myself between his cheeks, to seek out the opening that awaits me, to gently push until just the tip of my sex begins to enter him. Ohh, this is *good*... this is exquisite. He is soft and warm and wet inside; as I push a little deeper his flesh grasps hungrily at mine, oh, so good, so soft and tight...

A soft moan, I do not know which of us made it. It does not matter. I slide ever deeper, until my belly touches his back. And oh, this is *fine*. His muscles clench and release in waves, pulling me deeper still, squeezing me inside him, ahh...

I have rolled over; I lie now on top of him, the better to grasp his hips in my hands, to control my motions within him. So good he feels, around me. I take a deep breath, bend to nip and suck at his neck, and begin to thrust. Gently at first, slowly; in and out, again and again. He is tight, yet I can feel that he enjoys this as much as I. There is no pain here for either of us, only pleasure that grows ever stronger as we move, as we rock and thrust together. He pushes back to meet me, eagerly taking all that I have.

*So good*...

Breath grows short but neither of us cares; we are lost in the pleasure we share, surging together, hands moving restlessly from place to place, trying to feel everything at once, trying to make it even stronger. My hand strays beneath him, to find his hard and urgent length sliding against the silk, hungry and needing... I grasp him and squeeze him, then stroke from root to tip, over and over, doing for him what his muscles are doing for me, and oh, it is *good*, what we feel, what we are sharing...

Somehow we have risen to our knees; he curls himself beneath me, squeezes me ever harder. I am all over him, hungry, devouring; I cannot get enough of the touch of him, the scent of his excitement, of my own... Hard and fast, now, we slam ourselves together, climbing the slope of pleasure, ever steeper, ever higher... Ahh, so good...

He shudders beneath me then stiffens; all his muscles lock and he spills into my hand, cool and wet, the essence of his joy... As with him, so it is with me also; clenched tightly within him I feel my own climax begin. I spill myself inside him, shuddering, writhing, lost in the wave of heat and fire and joy that begins there and fills my whole body... ohh... *yes*, *yes*...

Ahhh...

Only slowly does awareness return. Slowly I reform inside my skin. Slowly my mind begins to work again, to receive input, to process it. He is sprawled on his stomach and I am lying half atop him. I have slipped out of his body. I am limp and relaxed from head to toe; utterly sated, quite boneless in fact. I do not think it has ever been this good for me before.

I lift myself a little, so I can look into his eyes. And I smile, then, a full and open smile. For he is smiling like the mythical Cheshire cat. He is stretching and relaxing, reaching to caress my face with his fingers, reaching up to steal a kiss. He has enjoyed this as much as I have.

It is well. I return his kiss, and once more, with the lightest of touches, I stroke his antennae. Truly he has served me well this night. It pleases me to share my own joy.

I reach out and grasp the covers, pull them up and over the two of us, slide over so that I can curl up behind him, spooned together, my arm loosely draped about his ribs. He smiles even wider as he sees that I am in no hurry to leave. We have this whole night together, before I must return to the ship. Perhaps later we will hunger again, or perhaps we will simply lie sleeping together. I do not know, nor do I care. For the moment I am content, sated, as relaxed as I have ever been. It is very pleasant to kiss him again and allow myself to slide into sleep.

I will have to remember this place, the House of the Willow Blossom. My shipmates were correct, though of course they will never know that I agree with them. Truly a fine establishment. My last thought before sleep conquers me is a reminder to myself to ask him his name in the morning, so that if ever I return here I can seek him out again.

Ahh. *So good.*

-----/end/-----