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It is a misconception that Vulcan is dry, harsh, dangerously hot, especially for those whose evolution is not suitable. Arguably, it is mostly a desert planet that can have harsh climates and dangerous life forms, so I was pleased to show Jim there were other regions of the planet that featured seas and more temperate climates. Jim’s favorite place on Vulcan was a small bay on the northwest coast of the Thanor Sea in Kir Province. It was a quirk of geography that the land formed around it was almost completely enclosed, giving it the characteristic of what Jim called a lake. I was content to indulge him with this inaccuracy, and so this is how I have always referred to it. It was small compensation for his previous experiences on my home planet that had been understandably unpleasant: first the site of my failed marriage ritual, the trials of which we had put far behind us, or on occasions when he had cause to engage with my parents in the austere aristocratic setting that is my family home where our formal bonding ceremony took place.
After that, we had some decisions to make. As I often did, I deferred to the wishes of my bondmate; Jim had expressed a desire to explore the mountains and fresh lakes of the Western Sierras of Earth, having grown up in a landscape that was primarily flat and featureless. This did not come as a surprise to me, as I had often noticed during missions or times of leisure where climbing rock forms or mountains were involved, Jim seemed to have a boundless energy, always needing to push his limits, reach higher and higher.
So we began our life together in a mountainous region which offered an exceptional variety of landforms, flora and fauna. The weather was notably cooler, often mercurial as high altitude domains can be, but the air and gravity were slightly thinner and agreeable to my lungs, and after a time, I came to endure the winter months as they often involved sitting by comforting fireplaces and huddling close under warm blankets. In spite of Jim’s restless spirit, we spent almost a decade there, then felt the need for a change, so we spent time exploring my home world, which I was delighted and honored to do. We began in the south and moved north, avoiding ShiKahr Province where we were most likely to be recognized and I could avoid unwanted encounters with those familiar with me, not the least of which were my father and his associates; Amanda had passed while we were on Earth and I had no reason or desire to return to my home. Privacy therefore had been an important consideration, as was ease of access to supplies and transportation. Kir Province offered the most conveniences, including opportunities to explore ancient ruins, hiking, markets, and festivals. After considerable research, we discovered a comfortable seaside location that resonated the most with Jim, and so we made this our home, in a dwelling made of stone that is cool in the daytime and warm in the evenings. It was in a number of ways ideal, particularly the proximity to the lake which Jim enjoyed tremendously. Neither of us would discuss it, but there was a tacit understanding that it was easier for me to endure the environment of Earth than it was for him to do so on Vulcan, with its slightly higher gravity and oppressive heat. The lake offered a reprieve from both.
I have come to consider this spot on the shore as my favorite, as Jim did. Instead of assuming the usual position before the asenoi in my personal sanctum, today I’ve chosen a large flat rock near the shore. A skittering of watery peaks touched by low angled rays of sunlight animate the surface and serve the purpose of the flickering flame of my meditation lamp. I find the airflow mildly exhilarating, another reason Jim enjoyed it here so much. There is the ubiquitous wind that skims over the water driven by air masses rising from the baked heat of the volcanic plains that cause small waves to lap against the shore. “Let’s go to the lake,” he would say on an almost daily basis, and we would stroll from our dwelling to these inviting shores. He loved the thrill of skiing, he called it, being pulled behind the water-flitter we had kept in storage for such things. I would watch from the shore as he held tightly to the rope and twisted and turned into the wake, sometimes managing heart stopping yet successful attempts at leaping into the air, momentarily free of gravity, then expertly landing with perfect balance. My Jim had always been an adept athlete, even an acrobat of sorts, which I witnessed many times in his cunning escapes from an opponent who did not expect a duck or wily squirm from their grip. If ever there was a risk of any kind of confinement, Jim always found a way out. The one entrapment he did not resist, of course, was mine, to which I happily surrendered, finally comfortable in my ability to express my deepest feelings with Jim.
McCoy had often caught moments of breaks in my emotionlessness with an adeptness that surprised even me, though the sharp edge of his critiques softened over time, tempered with kindness and an understanding of my workings as a conflicted Vulcan. Foolishly, I tended to deflect his folly with the usual statement about my inability to express emotion. A lie. One of many. I think back to the time we had in fact shared a deception, so he knew this to be untrue, namely our clumsy attempt to deflect Jim’s suspicion of playing his final recording after I was compelled to declare him dead that day on the Enterprise. I lied when I had taken the ship under risk of mutiny to offer the gift of non-suffering to my former captain. I lied when I tried to explain to Jim the details of my physiological need when my uncontrollable hormones directed me to override his orders and go to Vulcan to face the aforementioned treacherous marriage ceremony. I lied to a visionary pacifist who Jim fell in love with when we were on a critical mission together to preserve Earth’s history. I lied to the Romulan commander in our mission of subterfuge to steal her ship’s cloaking device. Quite often, I simply lied to myself. Some might call these exaggerations, omissions, evasions. But they were lies just the same.
I am unwilling to fall into recollections of old habits from the past as I attempt to meditate on the shore of our lake. My lids close against the shimmering surface, and in my mind’s eye I can see Jim returning breathless from his aquatic acrobatics, rising from the water like a bronzed sea god, chest heaving, body slick, face bright with exhilaration, a beacon of recklessness and love of life.
“Want to take the canoe out?” he asked me one late afternoon as I noted with admiration small droplets of water gleaming like diamonds in the sunlight as he toweled off his skin and hair. He had insisted we bring the traditional boat with us when we moved to Vulcan. It was a flawless classic design that was streamlined and sliced effortlessly through the water. We would take it out often, exploring the extensive shoreline. Such a suggestion that day was not logical as darkness would soon set upon us. Rarely did I follow the strain of logic when it came to my bondmate’s whims.
A particular memory begins to take form and I could hear myself say “Yes, Jim,” as I handed him his shirt and rose from the red sandy shore. We dragged the canoe out and stood knee deep at each side, balancing it expertly for access as one does when an intuitive synchronicity has been achieved between two people. Once he took his rightful place at the bow, his pared down helm, I pushed off and slung myself as gracefully as possible to the seat at the stern; as was our ingrained habit, his place was to lead, mine was to steer. In this way we had navigated the heavens, other universes, even time itself. To do so now in this setting, in this way, was simply another version of our inherent natures. Our two halves, functioning as one, just as our two hearts and souls did.
This day of remembrance is burned into my mind for its profound beauty and what followed: our paddles rising and falling in sync, propelling us outwards towards the setting sun, traces of clouds reflecting golds and auburns as distant mountains were branded with the fading light of the day shifting the sky from mahogany reds to deep purples. The air had cooled slightly as the wind diminished, carrying with it the scent of desert g'teth blossoms, then it dropped and the lake turned glassy and silent as we sliced through the surface of the water. Darkness comes rapidly on my planet but we continued wordlessly onward through the brief curtain of dusk, and then we found ourselves amidst what appeared to be a spangled galaxy reflected from the stars above, shifting gently with our passage. After a while Jim lifted his paddle to rest on his lap and I did the same, leaving strings of liquid pearls to slide off the tips. For several minutes we simply drifted forward in the water, embracing the moment of solitude and communion with nature as the water hissed along the hull, until we had almost completely stopped. I could not sense from his uncharacteristic stillness what his intention was, but I could tell from thoughts sparked with strong emotions that he was about to surprise me. I could only hold my breath in anticipation.
“Have you ever made love in a lake, Spock?”
He knew, of course, I had not. Not only did I have an aversion to deep water, my personal experience with sexuality had been pitifully nominal. That changed with Jim of course, as our relationship evolved gradually over time, on duty and off during our mission together, and the reward for my reticence and fear of pain from another’s breach of trust was replaced with pure love and affection as only Jim could provide: honest, unconditional, gentle, true. I was surprised and intrigued by his openness of heart, his acceptance of my differences and unique nature, his compassion and sensitivity. I also came to know his other qualities, of anger, fear and at times, insecurity. He was to me the very embodiment of the philosophy my race claims to practice.
Our connection led to an astonishing self revelation of my worthiness and ability to love and be loved by another being, something I had longed for since leaving the orbit of my caring mother. This love, what Jim offered, was boundless, opening up our minds and bodies to realms I would have never dreamed of. Never would I have imagined my life being thus, having begun with years of strict instruction and withstanding the cruelty of my peers over perceived abnormalities, then disdain and disappointment from my father over my lack of conformity and eventual career choice, and later other disquieting and disillusioning encounters as I navigated through life. I came to see that instead of pushing against a way of life that to me was unfulfilling, I could instead choose to embrace an alternative way, of logic balanced with emotion. I learned that embracing both could enhance one’s way of being. I would never say this was better, that would imply conceit. I had simply grown, while others remained stagnant in their ways. It is something I have struggled to understand, when our ancestors had explored parts of the universe and contacted other races out of pure curiosity. It was, in fact, that which brought Jim to me, indirectly, when an early explorer broke through my planet’s gravity and came across a world less than seventeen lightyears distant, the third from its solar orb, brimming with life and potential. Time, curiosity, fate, all conspired to bring our races together.
And here we were in a precarious slender shell, Jim and I, in a galaxy of our own made from distant lights cast down upon us onto a liquid sky. Before I had a chance to reply to Jim’s obviously rhetorical question which I took to be a tease, he turned in his seat and even in the darkness I could see that sly grin below shining mischievous eyes which would cause my heart to flutter in my side and my breath to pause as I waited for whatever he had in mind. To my alarm, he lay his oar down to rest at his feet, pulled off his shirt, squirmed out of his pants, stood, then pushed off the bow, causing a small tsunami and a full rotation of the canoe as I compensated for the sudden imbalance. Jim splashed about for a few moments, then settled into a gentle treading of limbs. I could see his face as he looked up at me expectantly, his expression registering challenge. Of course I would accept it, as I always did.
Ever willing to expand my experience, to share his joy in it, I carefully lined up my oar on the bottom of the canoe next to Jim’s, unclothed myself and stood with what I considered careful balance, but I was mistaken as the vessel tipped on its side and I plunged ungracefully into the drink. I pulled my way to the surface to find Jim laughing in delight, and then he stroked close to me, breath warm and fragrant against my face. Mine washed over his as I tried to coordinate my respiration and gather my dignity and nerve in this dark and unfamiliar element. I grasped his arms and he held me tight as we circled in the water as one, legs kicking, heads bobbing. Having a denser bone structure and leaner body than his meant an unexpected but not insurmountable challenge for us as I latched on to him and he held his body against mine, arms around my upper back, head rested snugly on my shoulder.
We had disturbed the stellar pattern on the water surface with our movements which eventually settled to resemble gravitational waves as we found a calm equilibrium, simply holding each other. I tipped my head back and saw familiar Vulcan constellations coming into view above us.
“We are among the stars again, Jim.”
I could not contain the warmth and wonder in my voice. I did not want to. I was born to experience wonder. This was part of that need, and I gratefully shared it with the one who meant everything to me. I rewarded our special union by taking his cool wetted lips with mine, letting our tongues begin their well known dance as our life forces sang together. It was an interesting sensation to kiss in this way without accompanying hand movements. I could tell by the growing fierceness of his osculation that this concept was a growing source of stimulation for Jim and something was about to change. I was not surprised.
“Turn around.”
Our initial movements were uncoordinated, awkward, but Jim did not let go, and I did not resist the unsophisticated machinations. I knew what he had in mind. I lay my arms across the tipped canoe hull for support. I could feel him settle his chest and stomach against my back, the familiar stiffening of his organ, hot against the cold skin of my slightly shivering buttocks as I awaited his entry in the cleft between them. He released one hand while stabilizing our position with the other, hooked one leg low around my waist, and guided himself closer, wedging his way to my core. He breached me at last, matching heat with heat, and I could not help but release a very un-Vulcan moan, the kind that vocalizes my pleasure when he comes to me in this way. Jim’s dances of love as he directs my body have always been worthy of oral utterances. This man, this is the one whom I love. I am not ashamed to show him how much.
I reached down and grasped one of his cheeks that flexed with the effort of keeping us afloat. I pressed it closer to me, squeezing at each of his gentle thrusts. “Let go,” Jim said. “I’ve got you.” I slid my other arm from the hull. I slipped for a brief moment and his leg shifted to wrap tightly around my hips and the rippling water turned to small waves and the starscape above and around us was broken once again as our mouths rose up sputtering for air until we regained control against the small peaks of water. A random and unexpectedly dire thought came to me, that distracted by our throes of passion we find ourselves inundated and sink together, then my mind gentled with the thought that this would not be a terrible way to go, with our bodies entwined, Jim inside me, my body taking his with desire. Morbidly poetic, and no doubt a side effect from my mate’s constant use of romanticisms. My thoughts shifted to the reality of our building passion.
We were kicking together smoothly now to stay afloat; one of Jim’s arms clutched around me possessively while the other stroked paddle-like underneath the water. Each thrust was slightly eased by the lesser gravity. In that divine moment we were as one with the elements, water lightly churning, our gasping breaths softening in concentration.
I know when Jim is close. His restraint here was admirable, not wanting to succumb to sinking or ungracefully gasping for air while trying to maintain a matching rhythm between our bodies. He clutched me even closer, his arm tightening against my chest, his faltering breath at my ear as he reached climax, and then he released a lengthy satisfied moan, and I was filled with his essence. I felt it sear my insides, that welcome hot explosion. His body shuddered a few times, and I lay my head back onto his shoulder while we caught our breaths, then he released his hold around my legs. His departure from my body was regrettable but necessary to be able to add his strength to mine as we treaded together in graceful synchronization. I felt his smile against my neck and I reached the hand that had been cradling him underwater to the back of his head. He told me in that soft voice that thrills my marrow how much he loved me, and instead of speaking, I passed the sentiment effortlessly from my mind to his through our bond, something we had mastered without hands. We had noticed this phenomenon very early on, whenever our bodies touched. It had been a curiosity at first, as such a thing had never happened to me before, and knowing Jim’s species was psi null, it was a scientific anomaly. It simply became a natural part of our union, an added element to our attachment as irrevocable bondmates.
Jim’s breath at my ear turned unexpectedly to a chuckle. “I can tell you from experience that it won’t be easy for both of us to get back into the canoe without exhausting ourselves. Let’s just swim it to shore.”
Whether he was referring to a past tryst or the inevitability of physics mattered not; our shortsightedness aside, it was a worthy act to bind our bodies in this way, to add this moment to the myriad of others.
Having expelled a copious amount of energy from our union, it took some effort to right the capsized canoe; even after I matched Jim’s actions to rock it from side to side to displace the water, a significant amount remained stubbornly in the hull. Wordlessly, we each took a side with one hand on the hull and the other stroking through the water as we fluttered powerful kicks with our legs, and eventually reached the nearest shore, a mere twenty three point seven meters away. We dragged the canoe onto the sand, leaving behind a v shaped trough. The paddles had floated up against the hollow of the canoe and were intact, but our clothing had disappeared to sink into the depths of the lake. “Next time,” he had said to me with the assurance of previous knowledge, “we’ll try sex in the canoe.” I expressed doubt, but he maintained it was not impossible, with the right balance and coordination. He was not wrong.
Sometimes Jim would get restless with the need to be among the company of others and we would head to Kir City for errands and enjoy the amenities. The city has attracted a number of expatriates who are endlessly fascinating, an observation which gives me much comfort as it embodies our Vulcan philosophy and reminds us of the diversity of life in the known universe. One evening, after completing our errands and enjoying a meal at our favorite eatery, surrounded by polyglot babbling and a plethora of otherworldly aromas, we stopped in an establishment that served a variety of beverages. Jim insisted there was a version of a drink named after the activity we had repeated on the beach after successfully accomplishing our challenge in the canoe. He ordered one for himself, while I chose instead an Andorian ale. We toasted to each other in the Human manner, eyes meeting over rims as we sipped our libations. He offered me a taste of his, which I did tentatively, detecting under the peach scent a hint of Orion delaq, a hallucinatory ingredient that had to be used sparingly. With his eyes shining at me in that way that causes curious sensations in my lower organs, I was once again under his spell, this incorrigible being whose libido for a Human male his age was unusual.
“You are insatiable,” I told him, basking in his intimate attention.
“I am happy to satiate,” he responded with a smile that released those sensations to cascade throughout my entire body.
Ah, Jim. How I miss you.
It is the memory of that first intimate venture in the lake that fills me with the most warmth, love, and sadness. Jim’s departure from this realm had robbed me of an anticipated abundance of wonder and delight and deep belonging I had been seeking most of my life. I think often of the clothing that slipped from the canoe that day, the only evidence of our communion. Perhaps a water creature had made the folds of it a home, or the fabric had naturally degraded over time. How surprising a discovery it would have been to someone who came across it as they trolled the water for jumbo mollusks. The discovery would have led to interesting speculation: Who? What? How? These were secrets that would be retained by the indifferent lake which lapped at our feet that evening as we lay together in the sand to observe the starscape above, uncaring of grains pressing into crevasses we would then wash from each other, shivering as the water evaporated from our skin, then holding hands as we briskly headed back along the pathway in the darkness to our welcoming abode.
Even more surprising, should it ever happen, that at those depths someone would come across a shroud, one worn down by the elements and no longer able to contain the bones of my beloved, who had instructed me on the desired resting place of his remains. His atoms now seep throughout the lake, where his life fluid once did. I cannot bring myself to re-enter those waters. He has earned his freedom from this plane, and I will not disturb it. I have my memories, and that is enough.
My meditation is interrupted by a screech above me and I open my eyes to follow a raptor that is wheeling its way across the darkening sky, signaling the day’s end. “My favorite time of day,” Jim would say as we would sit watching the dusk unfold. I close my eyes again and feel the wind dropping to a soft breeze. I can hear his laughter on it, feel his touch, taste his essence. He is forever in me. I inhale deeply and rise, cast off the sand from my sandals, and turn on that familiar path to home.
END