Although I am still uncertain as to why we call it that. You tend to quickly become almost incapacitated with laughter each time we try to discuss it. I can appreciate your laughter, knowing as I do that it is part of your love for me, but I could understand it better if I had a logical explanation of the concept of spooning. Barring this, I am left with unanswered questions. For instance, you have told me that one way to look at it is that it symbolizes the couple's shared silverware... at least, the cutlery that is most common to them, in their life together. I found this puzzling, and remarked that if this were true, why do we, here aboard the Enterprise, not call it "sporking"? Would that not be more logical? Or perhaps "fooning", since that might be more to Human tastes, so to speak... And here, yet again, you dissolved into helpless laughter. Upon seeing my raised eyebrow, and the rest of my expression, your amusement intensified to the point that you had to lean on me. Have I mentioned to you today how much I love how we lean on each other? Mentally, physically, and in every other way. During both our days and our nights, together and apart. I do not think I did. I should have. I will make a mental note of it. In any event... I still wonder about the silverware. I wonder if it has anything to do with Doctor McCoy's muttered references to my having been "born with a silver spoon" in my mouth. I will have to ask you about that in the morning.

For now, for tonight, I am content to "spoon" with you. Or spork, or foon. Whatever we choose to call it, I love it. Because I love you, and therefore I love being with you. And times like these bring a deeper meaning to those words, for me. Here, during the ship's night, together in the privacy of our cabin and the comfort of our shared bed, we can truly and simply be, ourselves and each other's. Bonded in body and mind, in the midst of our dark and quiet quarters, it is as if we are the only two beings in the Universe. Suspended in a small envelope of time, cocooned in an artificial night inside an infinite one. And yet we know, even in the depths of our sleep, that we are still aboard the ship. We are aware, on some instinctual level, that its work and life goes on, all around us--and that if there were a disruption, our sleep would be interrupted, and we would be notified. I know that you like this best, this being away without being apart, from the ship or each other. And I must admit that I do, too. There are times when we must truly leave all this behind, at least for a short time. Yet we can almost hear its call, always feel its pull--that unique force of gravity that makes the Enterprise, regardless of its location, the center of our Universe. As we are the center of each other's. But when we are here, aboard, and sealed within this warm room overnight, we are part of it while apart. We can... "rest, relax, and recreate", as McCoy is so fond of saying. Though for all his talking about it, he himself rarely does any of the three. I cannot remember the last time he took a "vacation", another thing he is overly fond of talking about, especially one not in our company.

Interesting... Can it be that for all his frustration, he finds his work and life here as central to his existence as we do? And that for all his complaints, he enjoys our company, even as a couple, more than anyone else's? More questions for the morning... but returning to the matter at hand. The matter in my hands... in my arms... in this bed with me, and in my life. You, my Jim. You. Your body and your mind, both mine, at rest and at peace. It is so good to see you like this. As good or better than seeing you full of your boundless energy, my seemingly endlessly energetic being!

Last night, you asked to spoon me, and I let you. How could I refuse? I think the fact that you still ask me such things pleases me just as much as the way that you do... standing so close to me, your hands lightly holding my upper arms, thumbs caressing my biceps, looking up into my eyes from out of your lovely hazel ones under those light lashes. Speaking to me in that voice of yours almost too low for Human ears but incredibly sexy to Vulcan ones. Besides, it was what I already wanted, and had all day. And we both knew it. And oh, being here with you now... I am so glad you asked and I answered, my love. About this, and about everything else... going all the way back to my commission to the Enterprise. When we both accepted that, and later when we accepted our love, neither of us knew where either would lead. We took great risks... though, true, ones that reflected our original mission. "To explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before... ". I never knew that anything, or anyone, could feel this good. I never knew that I could feel this way, about an experience or a person.

And so we readied for bed, charming each other with our slight hurry--enjoying our eagerness to reach our destination together, even after all these years, even when our physical intimacy was not to be sexual. Arranging ourselves under the covers--you with your usual busy quickness, I with my customary care--we turned onto our right sides, and closed the small part of a meter that remained between us. Gods, how good and right it felt to move towards you, and be gathered into your waiting arms! No less so than the first time, and no less special than any time since. I hope that I never miss the significance of this act, this simple yet profound expression of our love, in any sense.

Your body stretched along and against mine, warming and cooling me at the same time. Touching each other everywhere at once, without even trying to touch. Your arms holding me so very close... your right supporting our pillow and my head, your left cradling my torso. As we first fit ourselves together, you slide your hand and then your arm over my side and waist, bringing your hand to rest on my midsection. You stroke the small, pliable softness that has finally formed there, kneading it a little; this has become a ritual of ours, almost a 'private joke'. A loving and teasing reminder that you are not the only one that has changed, and aged, since we first lay like this. As we prepare for sleep, your hand moves up my chest and comes to rest over my heart, where it stays throughout the night. I place my left hand over yours, and press it very firmly to me, then release the pressure but not the touch, so that we may sleep. On nights when one or both of us feels a need for security, I capture your strong forearm in both of mine and fall asleep holding it to the center of my chest; cherishing it both as if it were a separate being, and as part of your whole precious body.

Your face fits into the curve of my neck, your chin supported by the cleft between my shoulders. I feel your warm, steady breath there all night long, and I revel in the thought that you are breathing me in, over and over again... and breathing out a mixture of us both, out into the night. Sometimes, before and after you fall asleep, you nuzzle into me, scratching my skin just slightly with the beginnings of your morning stubble... and a tingle travels from my head to my toes. And some nights, yes, my love, there is your snoring in my ears. I do not mind. It tells me that you are sleeping deeply, and that my presence is assisting you in this. What more could I want?

And then there is perhaps my favorite aspect of all... your belly, that ovoid roundness, pressing into my back. Grown large and full with the passage of time--and yes, the sometime neglect of your diet and spoiling of yourself, for which I am partly to blame--it curves against my entire spine, your deep bellybutton and one of my vertebrae kissing at its center, your tender underbelly coming to rest in the small of my back. Soft and firm at the same time, the only regret it brings me is that in this position, I cannot touch it. But with each deep, slow breath you take, it swells against me, creating a wonderful pressure that is better than any massage. Each strong, gentle push sends a pulse throughout my body, radiating from the end of my spine out through my extremities.

Your belly and your breathing... like this, they are mine alone. Symbolizing, for me, the unique importance of your life force in and to mine, and its fragility even as it lies in my care. And the sweet vulnerability which is you, especially when you are with me. Most especially when we are alone, together. Only I see you relaxed, resting... naked, exposed, in every sense. In a personal as well as professional context, at the very least. In the context of love. Our love. Only I see you with those eyes, my love, and am seen by you in return. Only I am granted that privilege, that full access to your perfect imperfection. And what a great privilege it is!

Only I know you in all your Humanity, and experience the infinite pleasures that lie therein. I knew you in what amuses me to hear others call your "prime", as you neared the 'last blush of your youth'... and your first blushes at my touch. And oh, what a beautiful thing that was! You were. And are. And I know you now in the changes of age. Better all the time, husband. Better all the time. For time has been kind to you, my t'hy'la. Even if you do not always choose to see it. Even when others cannot, or will not. The grays in your hair, the lines on your face--yes, even the increases in your mass, weight, and density over the years... they take nothing from your beauty, nor my love for you. Nor, indeed my lust. As we have seen this very day... your laughter having turned to loving, and it was not long before I responded in kind. No, they take nothing away... and they add much. Though sometimes they do provide a bittersweet reminder that time may take you from me, and far too early. Yet unless we enter the next world together, I know even a nanosecond you spend there without me will make it seem to both of us that you left this world too soon.

It is only me who you let see all of that, only me who you let speak to you of it. Vanity? Maybe, partly. But how much more than that, trust. I am the only one, in all this wide and wild Universe of ours, that you can trust with your whole self. That you can entrust your self to. With me, you can truly be yourself, and just... be. Beautiful, young, bellied, old. Whatever you wish, whenever you wish it. Even, within reason, wherever, my lover. Anything and everything. And to me... all there is, or needs to be. Do not mistake my meaning, my Jim, I love and am loyal to our mission and the rest of our full and busy life. But in my life, all that and you have become indivisible. And I believe vice versa. You are my mission, and I am yours... and we are ours. As I once told you, "Captain, a starship also runs on loyalty to one man. And nothing can replace it or him." And it is, all of it, because I know you, and you me. I know the furthermost reaches and innermost secrets of your heart, and your soul. As well as your body. How truly it is said that that is the essence of love--to know and be known. And, yes, of friendship.

* * * * * * *

Tonight, I am spooning you.

We lie on our left sides, as is our custom. My body curls around yours like a 'big cat' around a sehlat, following your curves and surrounding you, making me glad I am several centimeters taller. Your head fits under my chin, or I bury my nose in the soft curls at the back of it. Your bottom rests in my lap, and my thighs support yours; as tight and perfect a fit as when we are sitting up like this... or lovemaking. I like it best when we go to bed bare-chested... though I know this can make it quite difficult to fall asleep, if we are touching when we attempt to. Usually, we both wear simple shirts replicated from cotton, yours with short sleeves and mine with long; those we reserve for our sleeping hours, or the rare times spent alone in our cabin or elsewhere. The ones you call "t-shirts"--another colloquialism we have yet to finish discussing. My arms and hands are long enough that I can support your neck and hold your chest with my left, and my unique biology prevents them from "falling asleep"... why, again, is that supposed to be a negative thing, even in this context? Hmm.

My right arm and hand lie along and atop your right side, following your 'love handle'--one phrase I have come to well understand!--up and over so that my hand holds the front of your belly, and the rest of your body, snugly to me. Your belly is the warmest and softest part of you... yes, love, in addition to being the largest... and it brings me infinite comfort. It appears larger, and reaches further in front of you, this way than in any other position. I know you do not always like this, or my commenting on it--but through me, you are finally learning to. That, and it, please me equally deeply. It is that special force of gravity again, my love, that draws it down and out and me towards it, both inexorably and inexplicably. And almost indescribably... though I shall never tire of trying. Sometimes, consciously or un, my hand finds its way down to your hem and up under the front of your shirt, so that it can rest directly on the furred skin over your stomach, and I can better feel you breathe. I think that that sensation moves me even more than in the opposite position, and for much the same reasons. Expanding and contracting evenly, all night long, my hand sinking slightly into your generous flesh... it is one of the small and sacred wonders of this world. Once in a while, I steady us by placing one or two of my fingertips inside your bellybutton; I feel so connected that way, tapping into your core, almost as if it were another form of melding.

And, when one or both of us needs to be very close, I bring my forearm across the entire central curve of your belly, my elbow crossing your bellybutton, and hold it in its entirety by tucking my hand underneath it on your left side. You say you feel especially accepted and supported when we lie like this, and the satisfying weight grounds me, even as it binds me more tightly to you.

But tonight, as most nights, my hand behaves, and lets your belly rest beneath its personal blanket; my palm centered over your bellybutton, sensing the pucker in the soft cloth, feeling that small pocket of air shallow and deepen with your breathing. Before you fell asleep, your right hand passed over mine, rubbing it a few times, shifting my hand a centimeter or so to either side on the center of your roundness... those few strokes conveying your understanding and gratitude. Then, you pressed your hand onto mine, and so my hand into your belly. There is always something humorous about this, and as you do it, I can feel you smile. Another little ritual, in the private practice of religion that is our relationship. As usual, your arms came to rest together on the bed beneath you, and your hands crept under your cheek between it and our pillow. You still sleep like a child, my love; like the sweet and somewhat wicked boy you were, so many years ago, and in some ways still are.

I have slept for a few hours already, following you into sleep a few minutes after you entered it, drawn more by the siren call of your slumbering mind than my own fatigue. It was not a particularly ardous day, and I still do not require as much sleep as you do, my Human.

However we sleep, my t'hy'la, it is best for both of us when it is together. We rest well and fully this way, and we never tire of waking to each other, and beginning our day that way. It does you so much good to have a full night's sleep, and it does not happen as often as it should. You have done, and still do, so much for this ship and Federation; and for the people of many other worlds, as well. Rest, now. Rest and take sustenance for the next day from my body and our love. You will need it, to carry you through until we are here again... and neither of us knows if that will be the next night, or indeed ever.

I recall now how you once quoted Milne to me: "I suppose that every one of us hopes secretly for immortality; to leave, I mean, a name behind him which will live forever in this world, whatever he may be doing, himself, in the next." I believe that you have already accomplished this, and much more. And will continue to do so, in the many--hopefully--years you have left. And having been to the next world, I should know.

Hmm... I now find myself not only fully awakened, but aroused. And wanting to share my thoughts and feelings with you, my Jim, as you have always encouraged me to do--it was not easy at first, but years of practice has made almost perfect. Then shall I awaken, and perhaps arouse, you as well? Yes... and yes. Very well. Then only one decision remains... To accomplish this by physical touch, by caressing your belly, then your chest, then wherever I am moved to move upon you? Or by mental, by allowing our minds to merge, so that we may meet in our dreams and share them, as we have so long done when awake? Either way, we are and will become one, in body and in spirit. So which will I choose, and which will you accept? Mmm... a most interesting logic problem...

Mycroft Holmes
Boston Living Center
9 February 2006 / 11 Shevat 5766

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