Disclaimer:  Star Trek is the property of Paramount/Viacom.  This story is copyright (c) 2006 by Mistress V.  Rated NC17. 


Vulcan Rain

Mistress V


The door to Spock's quarters opened to reveal a coughing Christine Chapel.  Every exposed surface of her was covered in a fine patina of yellow sulfurous dust, which blew all over the surface of the planet she had just visited.  She drew a tired hand across her eyes, grateful that tomorrow was Friday and that she had the weekend off.  So, by some miracle, did Spock, though she was beginning to suspect that her boss and his boss had a great deal to do with this planning.  Not that she minded.

She was surprised to see the object of her affections standing there.  He had obviously just come off duty as he'd changed into casual attire.  As he moved to embrace her, she waved him away.

"I stink," she said.

He regarded her curiously.  "I do not notice a disagreeable odor other than the sulfur, which has its own peculiar pungency."

A smile creased her face.  "OK, it stinks.  And I'm covered with the stuff.  Why do all the planets we visit have dust storms?  Or terrain that would rival Volcanoes National Park?  I'm still coughing up a lung from that week on Fuega.  I'm going to ditch these things and go for a real swim.  I need to get this dust out of my system."

Then she realized what she had said.  Vulcan was hot too.  Uh oh.

Spock merely raised an eyebrow, as he always did when she amused him.  "Vulcan is not dusty, my beloved, not does it have rivers of lava.  It's just hot."

"Hot I can do," she laughed as she started towards the bathroom to change.  "But oh what I wouldn't give for a rainy afternoon in San Francisco.  Or Seattle.  Or somewhere!"

She stripped off her sulfur covered uniform and threw it into the laundry bin.  Ugh.  The goddarned stuff was everywhere, and if she didn't know better, she'd swear she had turned blonde again.  The pool would take care of that, she though with a satisfied smirk as she pulled on her bathing suit and sweats.

"You playing chess with Jim?" she asked as she gathered her gym bag and prepared to head to the pool.

"Affirmative, I am meeting him in 30 minutes.  But your last comment has intrigued me.  You stated that you would like to spend an afternoon in the rain.  For what purpose?"

Her laughter rippled out to him as she opened the door to leave.  "To get wet, naturally!"

Spock tried to discern the logic of her last statement, but could not.  He chalked it up to a human character trait, one he would need to study more closely at a later time.

* * *


"So, Spock, what's new in experimental horticulture?" James Kirk asked as he considered his next move.  "Your lady sure knows how to cook up the results!"

Spock allowed himself the special half-smile his friend knew well.  "I thank you on her behalf, Jim, and must agree, having a fiancee who can occasionally produce fine baked goods as a hobby is an unexpected asset, especially in the replicator age.  As for your question regarding the arboretum, all is growing as expected.  We anticipate a harvest of limes in a few weeks, which the bio lab plans to use to synthesize vitamins for the colonists on Beta Antares 3, which we visit next month."

"Don't let Riley get wind of the fact you have limes, or else he'll throw a Jimmy Buffet party, with 6 credit drinks, of course." Kirk placed his chesspiece on the board.  "Your move."  He expected Spock to draw a blank stare at the mention of the old Key West, Terra, recording artist.  To his amazement, he did not.

"I shall endeavor to keep Lt. Riley away from the limes, lest he attempt to transform the ship's bar into Margaritaville," Spock agreed, "although I cannot guarantee he shall not find a reason to organize another event.  He does seem to make a tidy profit on these festivities, I must admit.  Oh, on Saturday at 0800 hours, the arboretum will have its quarterly rain day, which should last 8 hours.  The water collected for this purpose at Starbase 17 is in place."

Kirk tried to hide his surprise at the First Officer's growing knowledge of Terran culture.  Christine Chapel was having more of an influence on the Vulcan than he had expected.  Or, perhaps, Spock was finally allowing himself to be influenced.

"Affirmative, Spock.  Just don't drown us."

"Indeed, Captain, I shall try not to."

* * *


At that moment, Christine was close to drowning in pleasure.  The pool felt marvelous and between her pre-swim shower and the last 10 laps, every remaining vestige of the sulfurous dust had been at last washed away.

She thought about a rainy day as she swam.  Walking in the mist, breathing in the fresh air, stepping in puddles.  Miles away from dust, dirt and heat.  And, sadly, she thought about her biggest unfulfilled fantasy.  Kissing in the rain.  Okay, she told herself, maybe more than just kissing, but she had always dreamed of locking lips with someone in the middle of a deluge and it had never managed to happen.  It just seemed so sensual, with the cascading water, being held close ... of course, that fantasy might have to be in a more tropical environment.  A short sweet kiss in a Seattle drizzle was fine, but romance demanded ... the Georgia Rain or similar.

Christine realized that was not going to happen anytime soon.  None of the planets they were slated to visit in the next months had rainy weather patterns, tropical or otherwise.  This sector of the galaxy was on the warmer side.  The most she could hope for was some ice, but that wasn't rain.  Oh well.  And then there was Spock.  Her fiance had amazed her by taking to the ice on the holodeck with her, remembering Valentine's Day and even enjoying those horrendously bad films she loved so much.  But a walk in the rain?  No way.  A lovemaking session was even more out of the question.  She could just imaging him turning up that prim and proper Vulcan nose of his at the idea.  Such activity was illogical, unhealthy and unsanitary, he would say.  Enough that they managed to canoodle in the shower now and then.  Water was a precious commodity on Vulcan.  Having fun in it? Preposterous.

* * *


"Jim, your move."

Spock motioned to the board, outwardly calm, but inwardly being inundated with the most amazing images.  Christine knifing through the pool.  Christine's tanksuit clinging to every angle of the body that he knew so well.  Very nice.  Then strange, but equally erotic visions started flooding in.  Christine and him walking on a stormy seashore, laughing and kissing passionately.  A warmer climate slid into view.  So did images of them kissing even more passionately, pulling at each other's clothing until there was nothing between them but steamy tropical rain, and then they slid to the grass beneath them and joined together in that dance he knew so well.  His ears threatened to flush as he got a vision of her, face laughing up at the rain, legs draped over his wet shoulders, as he pleasured her.  His eyebrow raised ever so slightly.  He never had even thought of scenarios like this.  It must be something to do with what she had said earlier.  The prospect of doing these things seemed quite ... pleasant.  Actually, more than pleasant.

"Jim?" he asked.

Kirk looked at him as he placed his king.  "Yes, Spock, what's up?"

"Have you ever deliberately gone walking in the rain?"

"Sure, Spock.  Why do you ask?"

"I was just ... curious..."

He turned his attention back to the chessboard, but Kirk figured out what was on the Vulcan's mind.  "Thinking of asking Chris to help you out on Saturday?  That might be fun."

"I must admit, the thought crossed my mind as she had mentioned wanting a rainy afternoon.  What does that mean, exactly?"  Spock had recently started opening up to Kirk about some aspects of human courtship that were still too alien to him.  He was surprised to find his friend a knowledgeable and trusted confidante.  Oh, he knew the Captain and the Doctor probably had a few laughs about things in private, but if Spock had a real concern, Kirk gave the requested advice and was the soul of discretion about it.

"It means that she'd love to smell rain, feel it on her face, enjoy its wetness.  Hell, Spock, we all would, especially after the planets we've been at lately.  All heat.  There's just something about a walk in the rain.  Clears the mind, too.  At the Academy, when the rain rolled in and I couldn't study, I'd go out for a stroll, and it made all the difference."  Kirk smiled as he remembered.  "And when I was a kid in Iowa, the summer storms were just spectacular.  We'd be out there running around in it, grateful the humidity broke at last.  And with the right company, well..." He did not elaborate further.

He looked at Spock carefully.  "It doesn't rain on Vulcan much, does it?"

Spock sighed.  "No, it does not.  There are occasional storms, but they are accompanied by much lightning, so it is not logical to remain outdoors."

"I see," said Kirk.  "Look, you're in charge of the project.  I'm sure you can adjust the staffing for Saturday, can't you?" He winked at his friend.

"I shall see what can be done," Spock replied, with a hint of amusement in his voice.  "Checkmate and match."

* * *


"No, the arboretum's closed all day Saturday for quarterly maintenance.  Spraying with fertilizer, I bet."  Nyota wrinkled her nose in distaste at the prospect.  "No skating for us.  How about Sunday afternoon instead?"

"Fine," Christine replied as she finished writing up her last patient report.  "See you later for dinner, Spock's due in the lab.  Want to watch a vid tonight?"

"I think your young man might have other ideas," Nyota said in one of her stage whispers.

This amused Spock, sitting at his station nearby, no end.  Of course he would hear.  He had, and he thought to himself how predictable human females were.  One of Christine's more endearing traits, he decided.

"Actually, he's working late with the ag team in preparation for tomorrow, so you're all mine.  How about 'Notting Hill?' Bring your kleenex."  Christine had not subjected Spock to every kind of film she liked, especially the weepy romantic variety she and Nyota loved to watch on occasion.

"It's a date.  I'll bring the Thracian chocolate mousse.  See you later!"

* * *


Christine's shift was just ending as she saw Spock walk through the door.  There was no way he was ill, she thought.  What brought him here?  He was working late that evening, so hanky panky was not on the menu.

"Hello, Commander, what can I do for you?" she asked as they moved into her office.

"I would like you to accompany me tomorrow during my inspection of the arboretum.  Is that agreeable?" he asked as he snaked his arms around her waist and allowed one to slide a bit further south.

"Sure.  Should I bring my shovel and bushel basket?"  She caressed the tip of one ear and enjoyed the reaction she got.

"No, just yourself would be fine.  I must be there early, but shall we say, 10:00?  Dress for a warm summer afternoon."

His eyes held their usual professional gaze, but Christine got the feeling that there was something he was up to.  Their link was closed, though, so she decided not to press the issue.  What had he said once about Nyota practically issuing him an invitation, so he made certain to attend? She would do the same.

* * *


Spock looked up from his computer.  "Yes, Mr. Pauulu?" he asked of the yeoman who had just come in.

"We finished the fertilizer preparation and pruning, Commander.  Everything's ready for tomorrow.  You sure you don't need any help, sir?"

"Thank you Mr. Pauulu, but no, I think everything is under control.  You and your team have been most helpful of late, so please take a well-deserved weekend off."

The yeoman smiled.  "Thank you, sir.  We owe you!"

Spock returned to his computer and finished reading the article.  It was entitled, "The Greatest Rainstorm Romantic Scenes in Cinematic History."  He wondered who had time to compile such illogically unnecessary data, but was still quite pleased they had done so.

The chronometer showed 00:05.  Christine had told him that she and Commander Uhura would be up late watching vids in her cabin, so since he was working late and leaving early, she planned to stay in her own quarters.  With a bit of a pang, Spock realized that apart from work-related trips, this would be the first time they had slept apart in many weeks.  He sighed, then closed the computer down, gave a last look to the lab, and headed to his quarters for some meditation and rest.

At 01:15, Christine bade good night to her friend.  They had watched "Notting Hill" and "Sliding Doors", much to the delight of tissue manufacturers throughout the galaxy.  As she finally climbed into her bed, Christine realized Spock had never spent the entire night with her there.  It felt rather strange.  But before she could think further, she was sound asleep.

* * *


At 10:00, Christine keyed the entry code to the arboretum that Spock had given her.  She was dressed as requested, in khaki shorts, and a humorous regulation t-shirt that read "Property of Starfleet Medical."

The door opened to reveal Spock waiting for her.  She did a double take at his attire.  He was wearing shorts as well -- something she had not seen him in outside of the gym.  Well, he had said warm summer day.  But he was also wearing a dark green waxed cotton jacket, his black regulation t-shirt and a pair of leather and rubber gumsoled shoes.

They enjoyed a long, welcoming hug.

"Doctor, I have some protective gear for you," he finally said as he produced a jacket and shoes similar to the ones he was wearing.  "I'd advise you to put them on for now."

Christine did so, figuring that whatever chemicals were being sprayed around would be deflected by the odd clothes.  Spock took her hand, then keyed in an entry to the second set of doors, and they opened.

Her breath and heart threatened to stop at what her eyes beheld.

It was raining.  All over the arboretum.  Well, not exactly rain in the meteorological sense, but there was water falling from the ceiling and it was a darned good approximation of the real thing.

She turned to stare at him.  He was smiling that special smile only she was allowed to see.  His hands moved to turn up the hood over her head, then he did the same for himself.

"Come for a walk with me, beloved?" he asked as he slipped his arm protectively around her shoulders.

They spent the next two hours strolling through the facility.  Spock took great pains to explain what was happening and to show her the different types of rain that had been set: tropical, intense showers, floodplain, misty drizzle.  Each of the different horticultural regions of the arboretum had its own computer-programmed precipitation pattern, and the system obviously worked.  They wandered through all the various plants, examining everything, and pausing to kiss now and then.  Christine had never enjoyed a botany field trip so much in her life, and she suspected the same of her fiance.

Finally, they reached the coconut grove and the South Pacific-style research-station cabin that stood there.  They hung their coats up to dry and kicked off the duck-inspired, but logically practical, footwear, then settled onto a bench on the covered porch.  Spock enfolded her comfortably into his arms and they sat, watching the rain fall.

"This is amazing," she finally said.  "And you do this every three months?"

"Yes, T'hyla.  The plants receive normal waterings, but once a quarter they have a special daylong treatment to replicate the conditions they normally live under.  This quarter mimics summer, although the Terran summer is not yet actually upon us.  The water is quite warm, especially in this sector.  This helps the plants to thrive." Spock clearly was pleased with the success of the experimental project.  Christine was duly impressed with it too.

"Warm?" she asked.  "How warm?"  She expected a standard scientific answer.  After all, it had been a scientific question, she was just curious.

He simply rose from the bench and held out his hand to her.  "Come," he said.  "Let us find out."

It was like stepping into a comfortably warm shower.  Not too hot, not too cold.  The same as every Hawaiian vacation Christine remembered.  She completely lost herself in the sensation and stood there, face uplifted, just enjoying the water's wetness, silly as that seemed.  Then she remembered Spock and glanced at him.  To her amazement, he was doing the same thing she was.  His eyes were closed and he was letting the water cascade over his body.

Christine let her eyes wander.  His t-shirt and shorts were soaked and clung to him, leaving absolutely no doubt about the muscles that lay just underneath.  His hair and skin were delightfully, sensually wet.  Then again, she could say the same about herself.  She wanted to touch him.

And just like that, he was holding her close.  Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest.

"You are afraid?" he asked gently, as his hands began to explore her breasts, clearly outlined under the wet fabric of her shirt.

"No, but -- you read my thoughts?  How else would you know this was one of my fantasies?"  She was still getting used to this.  His caress made her shudder involuntarily, it felt so good.

"Not exactly," he whispered as he pulled her tightly against him, his finger stroking her rain-wet cheek.  "They came to me unbidden.  You were swimming -- and perhaps daydreaming?"

Her cheeks suddenly flamed.  "You don't have to do this," she said softly, her eyes downcast.

"I want to, beloved.  There is ... so much you have yet to learn about me ... trust me, T'hyla.  Let me love you."  He let his hand tilt her chin up so they were once again looking at each other.

And then his lips silenced any further protests as they lost themselves in a total embrace.  She felt his erection against her thigh, almost falling out of his shorts, and remembered the first blissful time she had touched his hardness.  Her hands once again slid beneath the waistband, delighted to find him naked and unencumbered.  He moaned in pleasure, and not quietly, either.  Before either of them knew what had happened, their clothes lay strewn in a soggy pile at their feet.

Spock pulled her down beside him onto the wet grass, relishing the feeling of the water streaming over them both.  His mouth began to blaze a trail from her lips down the side of her neck to her breasts.  He stopped there briefly, teasing each nipple into exquisite, agonizing hardness, then continued his journey until he found something else he wanted to explore.  He slid her legs over his shoulders and let his tongue leisurely wander through her feminine delights.

It was quickly overwhelming for Christine.  The warm rain, the absolute decadence of being stark naked with him in it, in broad daylight, out in the open -- these factors all sent her arousal into overdrive.  She felt her orgasm building.

*You can scream, beloved.  Please do.  No one will hear you but me.  Please.*

And the last flick of his tongue pushed her over the edge.  She slammed into his mouth, shouting his name as wave after wave of unbelievable pleasure washed over her.  She couldn't stop herself, it felt sooooo gooooood.  And then a long-forgotten sensation overtook her, an orgasmic aspect she had not felt in years.  A final, exquisite, impossibly good spasm cascaded over her and she at last fell back, spent.

But Spock wasn't done yet.  He pulled himself up into a seated position and swiftly maneuvered Christine on to his rock hard erection.  For once, she was extremely glad she had studied yoga.

"Oh-my-blessed-lord!" she gasped as he started to thrust upwards.  She looked at his face, absolutely alive with passionate emotion.  His eyes bore blazing holes into her soul with their fire.  She pushed down on him, rocking from side to side, as the rain continued to pour over them.  His mouth alternated between her own and her rain-slick breasts.  She had never known such an exquisitely erotic feeling, not even in her wildest fantasies, and she was stunned to find herself at the brink once more.  And then he thrust up a last, impossibly deep time and emptied himself into her convulsing heat.

"CHRIS-TINE!" he shouted, but the rain washed his cries away.  She fell onto his shoulder and screamed her orgasm into his neck.

And no one heard but the rain.

* * *


They were curled together on the porch of the research hut, safely wrapped up in a couple of sleeping bags.  The rain continued its steady, hypnotic rhythm.  Christine could not remember having ever spent a more pleasant afternoon, nor had she felt so totally and completely sated in her life.  The temperature of some of her equipment, for want of a better word, must, she thought, still be the same as that of a Vulcan, she was still so flushed.  She raised herself up on an elbow and looked down at Spock, who was dozing next to her.  Her finger traced his eyebrow, then moved to caress his ear, and finally found its way down his jaw.

He opened his eyes and drew her down to him.  "You are enjoying the afternoon?" he asked.

She sighed.  "Do you even need to ask? This is wonderful.  How did you manage to plan this without my knowing?"

For, true to Spock's inimitable Vulcan methodology, he also had produced a holodisc entitled "Music for a Rainy Afternoon", and made certain a selection of the arboretum's freshest fruits were available for snacking.  He had also laid in a supply of dry clothes, something they were both grateful for.  Wet t-shirts might be sexy for a little while, but not to wear indefinitely.

He only smiled.

They lay back and listened to the sensual strains of "Round Midnight" play along with the rain.  As the next song began, Dire Strait's "Why Worry?", Spock pulled her gently to her feet and they stood swaying to the beat, watching the magic of the falling water.

"Remember the first time you asked me to dance?" she asked, snuggling into his sweatshirt-covered chest.

"Indeed.  How could I forget?  A most pleasant experience."  His hands moved down her hips to cup the part of her he loved to touch most.  Perhaps the second most favorite, he decided.  Or the third?

"Even with everyone watching us like Chi-Omicron kestrels?"

"Yes, beloved, even with the audience.  But this setting is much nicer, do you not think?"  His lips found her earlobe and started nibbling on it.

"Mmmmm," she agreed as she slid her hands around his neck.  "But I had no idea Vulcans enjoyed the rain so much.  It rains so seldom there, I didn't even think you'd know what it was about."

"You are pleased?" he replied with his usual eyebrow quirk.

"Yes ... but, naturally, curious too."

*Let me show you Vulcan rain.*  He pulled her very close and moved to establish their connection.  She pushed into the link, used to this now, and let the images wash over her consciousness.

She saw ... Amanda holding a toddler-aged Spock near the windows of their Vulcan home, both of them watching a brief but intense shower ... young Spock playing in a rainwater puddle, thoroughly enjoying himself ... Sarek and him marveling at a plethora of unusually-hued rainbows that filled the Vulcan skies, an all too rare occurrence ... an older Spock, making the journey across the desert on his kahs-wan, his beloved sehlat at his side ... the two of them sitting at the mouth of a cave as a powerful thunderstorm raced across the valley below ... the clouds were huge, magnificent creations ... lightning danced across the sand before the rain fell in torrential, breathtaking sheets ... and Spock's desire to once again run out into it like a child, but not doing so this time ... Spock at the Academy, pausing from his studies to look out the window at one of San Francisco's many rainstorms ... he sat, his chin on his hand, watching as the sun broke through the clouds and bathed the span of the Golden Gate Bridge with its magic ... a hunger, no, a wish? ... that he, too, could join the lovers walking outside ... but his logical side taking the thought firmly from his psyche ... and always, an abiding, unashamed sense of pleasure when he experienced rain.

*And now I can share it with you, my love.*

And then, fantasies.  At first she thought they might have been hers, but after a second, she knew they belonged to the man holding her in his arms.  The two of them loving in all kinds of settings, on many different worlds, nakedly, unabashedly passionate, and always...there was rain somewhere.  She felt his hunger once more and its power astonished her with its intensity.

*We do not need fantasies now, beloved,* she told him.  *Take me now, in the rain.  I need you inside me, now.*

Once again, their clothes fell away, as if of their own accord, while they kissed ravenously.  Then Spock picked her up in his arms and walked out into the falling water.  And the dance began anew.

* * *


"You did not have to do this for me," she said much later, after they had crawled back onto the porch and settled again under the sleeping bags.  She half-expected his usual Vulcan comeback about the fact that the occurrence was part of routine facility maintenance.

He kissed the side of her neck and drew her more closely against him.  "I know, T'hyla.  But -- I simply wished to please you, something I enjoy doing, though may find that difficult to comprehend.  And to share another thing which obviously brought us much pleasure separately in the past, that we can now partake of -- together?"

His eyes held the promise of many future surprises.  *Just continue to trust me,* they seemed to tell her.

"That would be ... most agreeable, my beloved," she whispered.

He shifted onto his back, bringing her with him, and she felt his arousal once again in evidence.  She had long since stopped being amazed at their ability to recover so quickly.  Without hesitation, she moved her body across his and allowed him entry.

*Show me the Vulcan rain once more.*

And he did.

* * *


"So, how was your day here yesterday?" Nyota asked as she finished fastening her skate.

Christine surveyed the arboretum.  It looked refreshed, peaceful, alive.  She felt a wave of warmth as she remembered what had happened there just the day before.

"It was -- enlightening.  I learned a lot of things I never knew before about the inner workings.  It's complex, needs a lot of special care, but the results are so worth the effort."

And as they started to head down the skate path, Christine knew she felt Spock's embrace hold her close for a microsecond.