Disclaimer:  Star Trek is the property of Paramount/Viacom.  This story is the property of Mistress V and is copyright (c) 2006 by Mistress V.  Rated PG13. 

Blame It On the Brownies

Mistress V


"That's it?" Leonard McCoy asked, incredulous.  "You're agreeing, just like that?"

"Bones," Kirk reassured him, "Chris and I would never go back on a promise.  We said way back on your birthday that we'd take you horseback riding when we got to Omicron Delta, and we begin orbit there in a few hours.  Our ride is booked for 08:00 tomorrow.  A full day, 6 hours."  He winked at Christine Chapel, who was standing next to him, her arms folded, her face smiling, in front of the CMO's desk.

"Surely you didn't think we were kidding?  Maybe you were kidding?" she asked, amused.  Her boss had been a few bourbons to the wind at the time.

McCoy sputtered and busied himself re-arranging files on his desk.  "No," he replied, "I was just expecting a good old fashioned Spock-style difference of opinion before we agreed to go."

"And exactly what type of opinion would that be, Doctor?" asked the Commander as he walked in.  He regarded the three before him, his eyebrow cocked in its usual way.

"Oh, you know...how illogical it all is," McCoy answered, rising to the bait.

"What would be so illogical, Doctor?  It is illogical to state that a pronoun is illogical, therefore you must..."

"STOP!" Kirk finally said, trying desperately to keep from dissolving into a gaggle of giggles.  "Spock, we're taking Bones here horseback riding tomorrow, and I think he was expecting us to put up a fight, not be so amenable up front."

"Horseback riding?" Spock's eyes came to rest on his fiancee, even as he addressed the CMO.  "Really, Doctor, at your age?"

"Leave my age out of this, Spock!" McCoy told him, preparing to fire another shot across the Vulcan's bow.  But then he decided to change tactics.  "Say, Spock!  Why not come with us?  You could study the adaptation of the horse to this planet!  Maybe take your findings back to Vulcan or something."

*I cannot take much more of this, beloved,* Christine was almost choking with glee.

*Nor can I, but it would be illogical to stop now, while I have the advantage...*

"Doctor, with some exception to the present company, I would sooner spend the afternoon with a horta than ride a horse.  Though it might be amusing to see you do so.  And as it is, the equine species would not be adaptable to Vulcan.  It so transpires that Mr. Scott has received the latest volumes of the scientific journals we both need to review.  I shall endeavor to spend my day tomorrow doing so while on the bridge."

"Game, set, match!" Kirk said.  "Looks like our day is planned, Bones.  Spock will have the con, and M'Benga will mind the patients.  We're all yours.  By the way, Spock, what are you doing here?  You sick?"

"Illogical, Captain, Vulcans rarely get sick.  I came to ask the Assistant CMO if she would like to share a midday meal with me."  He turned to Christine.  "Doctor?"

"As it so happens, Mr. Spock, I was about to take my break.  Yes, that would be agreeable."

*In my quarters?*

*Are we going for the Vulcan record again?*

*I have already ordered food, so we shall have nourishment, T'hyla.  Afterwards.*

McCoy watched his ACMO walk out his office door with the Vulcan.  He shook his head and stifled another snort.  "Midday meal?  That term went out with the first Martian landing."

Kirk laughed.  "Bones, I just can't see Spock saying 'afternoon delight', can you?"

* * *


"So," Spock said as he fed another grape to Christine.  "You like to ride horses?"  They were stretched lazily across his now completely unmade bed, but neither one minded.  His eyes held a mischievous glint.  Christine took the reins.

"Mmmmm," she said as she slid her leg against his.  "It's all about controlling the animal.  With your voice ... your hands ... your knees ... your ... hips ... and your heart..."

"Indeed, Doctor ... tell me more..." he purred in her ear as his hands cupped her backside and guided her into the correct position.  His powers of regeneration astonished even himself, and he pushed up into her welcoming warmth with a moan.

"I'd rather show you," she whispered.

* * *


"Kirk to Enterprise," came the familiar call.

"Enterprise, Spock here."  Spock glanced at the con's monitor and saw Kirk's familiar face, covered partially by a Western-style hat, slide into focus.

"How's everything?" Kirk asked, glancing over his shoulder as McCoy and Christine raced by, in a full gallop.

Spock's eyebrows rose a full inch as he beheld the sight.  "As normal, Captain.  You are ... enjoying the day?"

Kirk laughed.  "You could say that, though those two are much more into this than I am.  They've done this a few times before, I think.  Anyway, we'll grab an early dinner here and be back around 16:00.  See you then."

"Spock out," came the reply, though the Commander still could not get he vision of his T'hyla so majestically in control of the fine horse had seen.  And her attire, from what he'd been able to glimpse ... those boots, those black leggings ... He gave a small hrrmph to focus his energies once more and returned to the journal he had been perusing.

His monitor beeped with an incoming message.  "You have a package at the communications office, Commander Spock."

Spock frowned for a moment.  A parcel?  It must be something from his mother -- more items to go through for the upcoming bonding ceremony, no doubt.  Oh well, Christine could help with this.

* * *


Christine stepped off the transporter pad with her companions and gave a heavy sigh.  "Even all my yoga and dance doesn't prepare for a day in the saddle," she moaned good-naturedly.  "I need a hot shower and a nap."

"As do we all, " Kirk said as they headed into the turbolift.  McCoy grunted his agreement.  It had been a splendid day, but they were all too aware of it now.

*I am back beloved, and I had fun, but I am exhausted.  I'm taking a shower and a nap.*

*I am pleased you enjoyed your day, T'hyla.  Rest.  I shall see you later.*

She went up to their cabin and waddled inside.  After her shower, she wrapped herself in her favorite old robe and started towards the bed, but it was just too darn far.  So she stretched out on the sofa instead and fell into a dreamless slumber.

* * *


"Here you go, Commander.  Sign on the docket please," the mail yeoman said as he handed over the parcel.

Spock recognized it as indeed being from his mother.  He glanced at the chronometer.  Best to take it down to his office and open it there, rather than risk disturbing Christine, who he knew was asleep.

He sat at his desk and opened the note.  "Dear son, I hope you are well," it read in his mother's familiar script.  "I am enclosing some samples of bonding reception invitations for you and Christine to look over.  If you could get me an answer soon I would be appreciative.  Oh, and since you said the brownies helped win her heart over, I've sent you a few more.  Enjoy them!"

Spock opened the container and inhaled the rich, chocolate scent of the dessert cakes.  He was instantly transported back to the last time he had smelled them.  The night he had first made love to Christine.  The distance in time seemed much greater than months, yet so much had happened since then.

He remembered the first morning they work up together.  Both of them trying to pretend that it had just been one of those adult things, but neither wanting to admit that it was much more than that.  She had visibly stiffened from fear in his embrace, and he had felt her apprehension through the first stirrings of the bond they had begun to forge Instinct told him that he had to proceed very carefully, though he had no idea what to do.  Human courting practices were still so new to him, and had certainly not expected to end up in bed with her on their first date.

"Well, Spock, no matter what we did last night, we have to get to work..." she had started to say.

He placed a finger over her lips and tried to speak through the link.  He already knew he loved her -- but it was, as she had rightly said, too soon for her, despite the past ties they had once had.  Patience, a Vulcan virtue, would now have to be practiced on his part.

*When you are ready, tell me your will,* was all he said.

Then they kissed, and she left him.

He had expected her to take slow, careful contemplation and was prepared for a very long wait.  The next day, he was rather surprised to find a message from her, asking him to meet in the arboretum after work.

His heart was pounding as he approached where she was waiting.  He was apprehensive, thinking that perhaps such a public place was a safe spot to tell him of her decision to walk away from this.  After all -- it has started so illogically.

But the minute he saw her smile, he knew in his heart that all would be well.  She had placed her hands on his chest, then pushed them up to lock around his neck and leaned into the embrace.

*I have decided,* she said so softly he could barely hear.

"You have decided?" he asked.

She nodded.  "I have loved you too long not to see if we can build a relationship, Spock.  I'm willing to see where this goes.  If it leads to the altar, then I'd be very happy.  But can we take it one day at a time?"

He thought his heart would burst from the new found joy he was feeling.  But instead of saying something wonderfully logical, or even profoundly romantic, as he had been practicing, he simply asked, "I still have some of my mother's brownies in my quarters.  Shall we go and share some?"

And ever since that night, the word "brownie" now caused his T'hyla to blush with pleasure, as she recalled the novel and sensuous way he had discovered how to eat one.  And that, he admitted to himself, even as he felt his own ears flush, had led to what she called his 'oral fixation' which, he had to say was an amazingly erotic adventure that he loved to experience again and again -- even without brownies.

The relationship moved forward, day by day, to their delight.

* * *


Spock let himself quietly into his quarters.  Christine was asleep on the couch, so he moved to cover her with a blanket.  She did not stir.

He showered and changed into off duty gear then sat down at the end of the sofa and pulled out the armrest computer monitor.  As gently as he could, he arranged her head so that it rested on his lap, then put his free arm around her shoulders, holding her as she slept.

Sometime later, she yawned and stretched, then opened her eyes to find him smiling down at her.

"Oh," she said, startled.  "What time is it?"

"21:30, beloved," he answered, smoothing her forehead.  "How do you feel?"

"Starved, is there anything to eat?"

"I could get something from the replicator," he said, then paused.  "Or, my mother sent some more brownies, which arrived today, with some items for us to look at for our bonding reception."

Sure enough, she flushed.  But then she smiled.  "That will do," she said softly.

And so they sat, enjoying the brownies.

"Just think, these started it all," she said with a contented sigh.

Spock's voice hid just a trace of mischief.  "Perhaps they were the catalyst," he agreed, "but I had decided some time before to pursue you.  I was just waiting to see if in fact you were amenable to the idea."

"Oh?" she asked, curious.  "And just when did you decide to pursue me?"

"I believe I decided to act on my thoughts on the second evening you performed your karaoke number."

Her eyes narrowed a bit.  "Wait a minute, you weren't even there! So how did you see--" and her voice trailed off as she had recalled Ny telling her to "Go for it, you never know!" that night.  Of course.  He had watched the week before on the computer in his quarters, and Ny, as the communications officer, had all too easily been able to find out.  So it was plain old Vulcan logic to realize he would be watching again.  Good old Ny.  "You were watching me.  In your quarters!"

He raised his eyebrow.  "Indeed.  I was still deciding how to plan my courtship strategy, and must admit I was uncertain if I truly was attracted to you.  But the second week, the song you presented, the one where the character was speaking of washing things in old-fashioned Terran jet fuel?"

"Kerosene?" she asked, trying not to laugh out loud.

"Yes, that is the one."  He gave a thoughtful pause as his arms tightened around her and she settled comfortably against him.

"Doctor, your movements during that performance did in fact call my attention to your exquisitely long legs and delightfully shaped posterior..."

She was laughing now, unable to help herself.  "And?"

"I decided to attend the next musical evening and attempt to make contact with you to see if the feelings were indeed mutual.  If so, I intended to announce my intentions."

"But -- you didn't!" she said, confused "Did you think you didn't have a chance?

"Oh, I had planned to because I was now certain that there was mutual attraction.  However, if you recall, the lights went out.  I had to assist Mr. Scott for the next 9.6 hours with repairs.  The next day we more than made up for the interruption, did we not?"  He remembered how a chance meeting with McCoy that day, over the now well-worn electronic copy of the ancient Vulcan sexual treatise, had led in part to where they were today.

"Okay, okay, so Riley fried the circuits and you couldn't do anything.  But how did you know I was still interested after all those years?  I had been trying to out-Vulcan you, as stupid as that sounds!"

He laughed.  "Ah.  Yes.  Well, during your performance that evening, you rather illogically suggested that I attempt to enter the window of your sleeping quarters by lunar illumination, which is quite impossible, since starships do not have windows that open..."

She choked.  Her hand flew to her mouth, and she was blushing furiously with the prospect of having been found out.  So the moon lilies had not been a coincidence...

"Yes, beloved," he said in her ear as he began kissing the sensitive cord on her neck, while his free hand unerringly found the spot in her center that sent her to almost instant orgasm.  "You might say I got the hint..."