“Ruth, you’re pouting again,” Sulu told her.

“Yes,” she agreed dreamily. “Do you think I should move my things out of Spock’s cabin?”

“Jilla didn’t think you should’ve moved them in. Though judging from the double-sized bed I’d guess somebody in Supply did.”

“Well, neither did I, but Daffy insisted.” Ruth giggled. “At least, I assume that’s what she meant by piling all my things out in the corridor.”

“That was a little premature of her,” Sulu commented vaguely.

“Think we could get Scotty to move the ship a little closer to Vulcan?”

“Your hearing’s not that good.” He chuckled. “But maybe you could teleport.”

“I’ve never been to Vulcan.,” Ruth sighed. “Oh damn it all anyway.” It came out a little sing-song, and Sulu chuckled again. They were sitting on the deck, in Spock’s cabin, passing a pipe of Rigellian between them and Sulu had almost forgotten to feel sacrilegious. As he looked around, the glowing shrine, red, weapon-covered hangings and various Vulcan artifacts seemed to grow sinister and definitely disapproving. He shivered. This is good stuff, he thought to himself.

“Why doesn’t he call?” Ruth demanded, but her voice was so wistful it wasn’t one anybody would’ve taken seriously.

“I’m sure he’s busy, Spike,” Sulu tried to soothe. “The captain won’t let anything happen to him.” A thought struck him and he laughed, smoke trailing out the corners of his mouth. “He wouldn’t dare. You’ve got his ship.”

Ruth giggled again, then sighed. “Why can’t I call him?” she whined plaintively.

“Jilla says it wouldn’t be proper. You want to impress your future in-laws, don’t you?”

“No,” Ruth replied firmly, and they both burst into fits of laughter. She looked around the room, puzzled. “Where is Jilla anyway?"

Sulu shrugged. “Busy – not that she’d be sitting here in the sacred Vulcan fucking grounds getting stoned with us – " Ruth coughed with the snort of laughter. " - with something Daffy called a Uhugolmiljiir project.”

The Antari made a face. “Eww, that sounds disgusting.”

The reminder of JIlla and Vulcans, though he’d done it himself, soured Sulu’s mood. “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested.

“They’re in the kitchen with Rabbi Miller, aren’t they?” Ruth said, ignoring his last statement.

“I’m not supposed to tell. Let’s get out of here.”

“Thank Jilla for me.”

For a moment Sulu was going to indignantly ask her if she meant for making the sacred Vulcan fucking grounds, then he realized she was still talking about the Uhugolmiljiir project. “We could go to the rec room,” he said to cover his near faux pas, “or for a swim, or do some transplanting in the botany lab, or play chess, or…”

“You’re a rotten chess player,” Ruth commented.

“I’m a fair chess player and a much better poker player.” He stood up. “How about poker? We could drop by Ben’s for a game. It might be your last chance before you become a proper Vulcan matron.”

“Never.” Ruth looked up at him. “Roy, you wouldn’t happen to be uncomfortable in here, would you?”

Sulu glanced around again, waiting to see if the weaponry was going to attack him on its own. “The sacred Vulcan fucking grounds? Why in the name of the Buddha would I be uncomfortable?” He reached down, grabbing her arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No,” Ruth pouted. “This may be the only chance I get to stay here.”

“You’re pouting again.”

“I know!”

The com whistled and Scott’s voice said, “She’s coming’ in lass; the bay doors are wide open.”

Sulu was left standing alone in the middle of Spock’s cabin with a pipe of Rigellian wafting incriminating fragrance in a cloud that followed the disappearing whirlwind he could have sworn, just a minute ago, was Ruth.

“Change!” Ruth shrieked at the red light over the shuttlebay door. As if it were frightened, it hurriedly obeyed and became green. She raced through the door as the hatch of the Chutzpah opened. McCoy and Jim stepped out.

“Well?!” she demanded.

"Should we tell her, Jim?” McCoy drawled.

“Maybe we’d better let Spock,” Jim replied.

Ruth wasn’t about to be baited. “Where is he?”

“Gettin’ the rug,” McCoy answered.

“What?”

“The rug.”

“A present from your future mother-in-law,” Jim clarified. Ruth stared, blinking, a smile breaking over her face.

“You mean…?”

McCoy was bouncing on his heels. “Congratulations, Mrs. Spock.”

At that moment, Spock emerged from the shuttle and Ruth threw herself into his arms, causing him to drop the large package he was carrying or be bowled over by her headlong rush. He flushed as Jim said, “I could perform the ceremony here, Ruth.”

She turned, smiling, still in Spock’s arms. “No, I’ve got a dress and a cake that I’m not supposed to know about and Judy’s got to be there and what happened with the bitch?”

McCoy and Jim both laughed heartily and Spock began to explain.

"Admiral, tell me you’re joking,” Jim said in a completely non-amused tone of voice. He’d called Komack to report on the resolution of the legal matter on Vulcan – and the Admiral had just informed him that there was one other problem. Ruth looked ready to cry or scream or both. Spock had stiffened considerably.

“I’m afraid not, Captain. The matter may be settled on Vulcan, but the change of Commander Spock’s status in all the official records is going to take time. This is a precedent case and the legal department…”

“Damned bureaucracy,” McCoy muttered.

“That’s all very well, Admiral,” Jim interrupted, “but I’ve got two officers who want to be married. What do I tell them?”

Komack frowned. "Starfleet will allow a temporary arrangement pending clarification of the Commander’s status…”

“Which means, in Anglo?” McCoy drawled.

“…in the form of a contract for not more than three years.”

Jim looked anxiously at Ruth and Spock. “Well?” he said. “I know Komack. That’s his one, only, and final offer.”

They spoke quietly to each other.

“It is not a proper marriage,” Spock told Ruth.

“But it is a legally binding form of co-habitation,” Ruth returned, “and the best we can get.”

“The legal department can no doubt expedite matters. We would only need wait…”

“For how long? Months? Years?”

“I would prefer…”

“We’ve wasted enough time, don’t you think? Please, Spock?”

Terry, you have to understand, it’s not right, not like this.

She is right, not like this. Leila, forgive me.

You’re only alone because you’re afraid to be anything else…

She who touches my dreams, she who fulfills….

Spock nodded, his face softening at the joy in her eyes, and spoke to Jim.

“Agreed.”

“Not much of a wedding,” McCoy grumbled.

“Bones, shut up,” Ruth begged.

“He is right,” Jilla put in.

“There’s a first,” McCoy muttered.

“And no doubt a last,” Ruth added. “Please shut up.”

“You could have worn the dress,” Jilla rejoined.

“This is official,” Ruth replied.

Jim and Spock walked into the officer. “Are you ready, Miss Valley?” Jim asked.

“For what? It’s only a signature,” McCoy said.

“Bones…!”

“I know, Ruthie. I’m shuttin’ up.”

As far as Jilla was concerned, a wedding was an occasion where one’s friends and family gathered under stars and moonlight to witness a pledge of eternal devotion and fidelity. On Vulcan, she knew, a marriage ritual combined ancient ceremony with the implacable fires of The Time. From what she had seen of Terran custom, there were usually words of blessing spoken by a religious representative before a gathering of friends in a place holding symbolic significance. She knew nothing of Antari custom, and was well aware that Ruth would not have told her if she had asked. She was certain, however, that this would be totally inadequate as a wedding by any standards or customs. But though she could not understand and did not approve, she was Indiian, and since Ruth and Spock had accepted it, so would she.

She watched as the captain laid out the contract; three years duration, no vow, with blithe legal dissolution at the expiration date marked. She sighed. “Go ahead, Spock,” the captain said.

Spock lifted the stylus, his eyes meeting Ruth’s – and Jilla caught her breath. There was eternity in his gaze as he formed the letters of his name. The captain’s quiet, “Ruth,” did nothing to disrupt the web of promise and devotion that flowed between ebony and violet. The love was strong, the commitment certain as Ruth took the stylus, answering Spock’s silent vow with one of her own as she wrote her name. The statboard was passed to McCoy, who signed with grumpy pleasure, then to her. She hesitated, looking from Spock to Ruth. The communication was tangible to her, the bond they formed without words filling her with their adoration and fidelity and dedication. She almost heard their echo – when The Time comes again, beloved – I will be ready, my love.

“It should be spoken,” she said to herself, but signed her name.

The captain took the contract. “By the power invested in me by Starfleet Command,” he said as he wrote, "I now pronounce you husband and wife according to the laws of the United Federation of Planets. At least, for the next three years.”

“Well, Spock, kiss the bride!” McCoy bellowed and the magic that remained shattered.

To Jilla’s pleased surprise, Spock lifted a sardonic eyebrow and complied with McCoy’s request. Ruth blinked at him, as surprised and as pleased, and Jim said, “Bones, you’ve just given away the best accomplice you ever had.”

McCoy fumed and Ruth grinned wickedly at him, archly placing two fingers on Spock’s arm as they left the office.

The party was in full swing by the time the guests of honor arrived. They were showered with rice.

“We said a Terran ceremony,” Spock reminded.

“It’ll grow in my hair,” Ruth remarked.

They were handed glasses of champagne by Dr. M’Benga, who gave Spock a mock-serious lecture about alcohol, marriage and Vulcan physiology while Ruth giggled.

“A toast!” Ben announced. “To our First Officer and his lady – live long and procreate!”

There was a raucous shout of appreciation as several dozen glasses were raised and emptied.

“Push,” Spock murmured. “Push, push.”

Ruth blushed. “You heard that?”

“Upon occasion, my wife.”

She smiled. “I think I like that.”

“Push?”

“My wife.”

Spock’s eyes held all the contentment she could wish for.

As it got later, the party, of course, got rowdier. Daffy had managed to start a stream of females wanting to kiss the groom despite the fact that Spock declined and Ruth threatened her life. Uhura performed an ancient Swahili wedding chant with Mrraal’s help on huge Congo drums, and later there were several bawdy versions being composed. Judy had recited from the Song of Solomon and it was decided that was bawdy enough. Several toasts were proposed, most of them in an attempt to keep the newlyweds drinking. Ruth and Spock bore it all stoically and complimented each other on their admirable calm with amused and amusing frequency.

They both got very quiet, however, when Jilla took a seat near the beautifully decorated wedding cake, carefully tuning her lyrette. She began to sing with a soft, melodic sweetness.

click for music

“Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless, aching need,
But I say love, it is a flower, and you, its only seed.”

“It is the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance.
It is the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance.
It is the one who won't be taken who cannot seem to give,
And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live.”

“When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long,
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong,
Just remember, in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows,

"Lies the seed that with the sun's love
In the spring, becomes the rose.”

The applause was thunderous as Spock tenderly kissed his wife, whose tears were streaming down her joyously smiling face. Jilla rose and quickly left the main room, followed by Sulu’s gentle, knowing, loving gaze.

Sulu watched the proceedings, enjoying them thoroughly, ignoring the twinge of envy that there’d never be such a celebration given for him and Jilla. He also ignored the very real sympathy he felt for Kevin Riley, who was alone in his cabin, drinking several bottles of Bushmills and working on his transfer request. There would be time enough to grieve with him later. Now was for celebrating a long-awaited at least by Jilla wedding. She’d left the party planning up to him and it was going well. Except for the group in the corner who were holding a wake for Ruth’s promiscuity. He shook his head. It was funny, despite the lack of class. He strolled over to them and Ramon Ordona looked up at him with bleary eyes.

“First you, now Ruth!” he managed to complain. “If Monique goes… What’s the galaxy coming to?”

“Maturity, Ramon,” Sulu chuckled.

“Easy for you,” Paul Carter moaned. “You’ve done without for two years.”

“Yeah,” John Holden put in, “you’ve had time to get over it.”

“And Jilla,” Ramon rejoined. “That’s what I call compensation.” He lifted his glass and the others joined him.

“Watch it, armada,” Sulu warned.

“It isn’t fair!” Paul wailed.

“That’s life,” Sulu said dryly.

“Easy for you,” Ramon repeated sorrowfully. “Easy for you.”

Sulu shook his head again, walking away. Two years. Has it really been two years? He pushed the uneasy realization away with another glass of champagne and went in search of Jilla.

“Spock?”

Spock turned at Jilla’s soft voice. She held out a plate with a small, carefully arranged display of fruit and nuts surrounding a dark cake.

“I am aware that it is not my place to present this,” she said, “but as your kindred here, I could not see you wed without it.”

Spock studied the display. It was beyond a doubt the proper, traditional wedding cake of Vulcan, made to provide the nutrition necessary for an expedient recovery from the depletion of The Time. He met her eyes with quiet thanks and some surprise. She flushed.

“I heard Dr. McCoy mention the pon-san,” she whispered, her gaze dropping.

“You honor me, rilain,” he said.

He saw her lips curve into a gentle smile. “I told you so,” she said.

He resisted the urge to innocently ask, ‘I beg your pardon?’ and replied warmly, “So you did, Jilla. So you did.”

“My wife, attend,” Spock said.

Ruth rapidly detached herself from the group of people she’d been standing with. She joined her fingers to his with a teasing smile.

“Do we get to go home now?” she asked.

His eyes reflected her mirth. “I believe it is appropriate.”

“Hot damn!”

“Here!” Daffy said as she abruptly thrust some flowers into Ruth’s hand. “Throw this.”

Ruth sighed, but obliged, then saw that Daffy was grinning at Sulu.

“And don’t anybody touch it but Jilla!” Daffy ordered. There was howling laughter and Jilla looked confused and Ruth and Spock made a quick exit.

They knelt on the pon-san, facing one another. Ruth’s fingers gently brushed Spock’s temples. His hand was placed, fingers spread, against her face. Ruth could feel the telepathic call that had been woven into the very fabric of the rug, the knowledge of how that was achieved a technique usually handed down from mother to daughter, not unlike making a cloud tapestry she'd realized. But since Amanda was not gifted, it had been T’Pau who had carefully linked the young Spock’s telepathy. And since Ruth wasn’t Vulcan, Spock himself showed her how such a thing would be done so that it may also be done for a son of ours, he had told her. She’d almost been ready to point out that she didn’t think the Zehara would approve of any Antari being more-than-betrothed-less-than-married, but the thought of ‘a son of ours’ overwhelmed it. As it was, that telepathic call was pulling them both into a meld that was much deeper and more intimate than they had ever experienced before. It took Ruth approximately ten seconds to lower every one of her shields, and she was only slightly annoyed that it took Spock a measured four point six seconds longer.

You are the stronger telepath, beloved, and so more greatly affected by the call.

Does that mean I’ll be the one commanding you at…

There was a snort of amusement to cover the embarrassment. Hardly.

There were shared smiles, both surprised at the ease with which they could give to each other. The joining moved slowly, almost leisurely from exploration to the awareness of a spark of need that was beyond the meld, yet was the completion of it. Emotions echoed between them, colors and tastes combining, enriching each other, solidifying to thought, then to words:

I love you.

Ruth opened her eyes and all she could see were Spock’s; dark wells fathomless, night-colored and so soft, so gentle…

She heard and felt what he saw: …violet sparks of life coming from depths of velvet beauty…

She leaned forward, whispering, “I believe the word is kah-if-farr.” He flushed a deep green. She couldn’t stop the giggle. “You clash with the rug, dear.” Amusement again came to mask the embarrassment, quickly subsiding, returning to warm communion.

“More appropriate would be, ‘never and always touching and touched,’” he murmured. Ruth smiled, feeling the gentle power behind the words and realizing how intimately they were connected to the call, the pon-san, and to the Vulcan concept of marriage.

“Never and always…” she said, and it was completed in their eyes and in their minds and in their actions.

Touching and touched.

Spock had never made love to another telepath before. The sensations were so much more intense, he was almost uncertain his sanity would survive it. But with that thought came Ruth’s surety, gentle but powerful. She gave to him her knowledge of telepathic union, and while it stung his innate possessiveness, he quelled it. She was hardly inexperienced, and he was no virgin himself. To hold those facts against each other would be most illogical.

I love it when you talk that way, blazed through his mind.

I am not talking…

Think that way, then. Shut up, I’m trying to seduce you.

I need no seduction, my wife. I am quite ready for you now.

Mmmmm, sounded through him, vibrating along his senses and he felt Ruth’s hand running sensually over his erection. I’ll say you are.

And you? he questioned, need making it difficult to form the mental words.

Honey, I’ve been ready for years. Touch me before I explode.

Her body was delightfully cool, and before he could register his pleasure, he felt it warm/felt her warming it. No need, he told her. Let your body cool me.

But I want you hot.

I cannot be other, but I assume you mean figuratively. I assure you, there will be no lack in that respect.

Getting arrogant now, are we?

Perhaps you are. I am simply stating facts.

Ooh, state it to me again!

Their shared laughter gave way to shared exploration. Spock’s hands were gentle as he memorized every detail of Ruth’s supple, golden body. He allowed the sensation to rule him, giving into her Human needs and his own. He reveled in her touch, in its eagerness and brazen passion, so unlike Leila Kalomi. Yet both like and unlike rilain....

Now is not the time to be thinking about other women, Boss.

Now is not the time to be calling me ‘boss.’

No? So I should take charge then?

Abruptly Ruth was astride him, her body pressing against his as her lips claimed an erotic kiss. She writhed on top of him, moaning into his mouth. It enflamed him and he grasped her hips, pulling her to his straining erection. She made a sound that was both giggle and a sigh of “Mmmm yes!” and sheathed his organ with one smooth downward thrust.

The penetration brought them to a more complete union than Spock had ever known. It was impossible to tell who was feeling/thinking/knowing which emotion/thought/knowledge. The physical sensation was too exquisite for words, pleasure rippling through them and between them, back and forth, surging and growing with each exchange. He opened his eyes, needing to see her beautiful face in the throes of such wanton fulfillment. Her head was thrown back, her back arched above him, her mouth open in silent expressions of ecstasy. He could feel her fingers digging into his chest, the rhythmic movement of her hips driving him ever closer to release. He grasped her arms, pulling her to him, his hands entangling in her hair as he brought her mouth to his.

I love you, I love you, I love you! moaned in his mind along with the giggling thought that she could talk with her mouth full. It was followed immediately by a picture of her mouth full of something other than his tongue, and he couldn’t stop the disconcerted flush.

You’ll like it, I guarantee it, she promised lasciviously. He sent her his own picture in retaliation, one she was already familiar with; his taking Jilla from behind, his teeth sunk into the back of her neck – but he replaced the small silver body with Ruth’s own golden perfection. She shuddered, her vaginal muscles tightening around him, drawing an audible gasp form him.

Yes, yes, yes… is kah-if-farr appropriate now?

Kah-if-farr! He roared it in her mind, along with a string of guttural, hungry, commanding Vulcan. The thoughts behind the words made her shriek with heady surrender and she rode him wildly. He retained enough control to be careful of his greater strength and she breathlessly reminded him that she was keheil. He asked hoarsely if injury would not mar their consummation.

Not when it feels this good! she assured, then, Goddess, Spock, fuck me!

He did. He flipped her over onto her back, holding her hips as he drove fiercely into her. Her cries of hedonism echoed in him and he fed her his own absolute, overwhelming pleasure. He felt it when her hipbone cracked, felt too the bolt of barely-registered automatic healing. But the injury summoned Vulcan instinct, and he abruptly climaxed, automatically eliminating the risk of damaging his mate again. And because they were so closely linked, Ruth orgasmed with him.

He released her, pulling away from her enveloping folds and she reached out, touching his hip.

“No,” she whispered. “Stay inside me.” He nodded and carefully lay down, turning on his side, bringing her with him.

I love you, my wife, my dei’larr’ei, my…

Golden one, she supplied.

You heard that? he asked, his mental tone one of warmth and shared joy. Her answering tone was peaceful and loving and as devoted as her name.

Upon occasion, my husband.

I think I like that.

Golden one?

Husband.

Ruth’s mind held all the contentment he could wish for.

It feels good to have somebody inside my head.

There is a considerable amount of space that needs to be filled.

I heard that!

Of course. It was a statement intended to provoke you. Which succeeded, I might add.

You don’t have to.

I know. I love you.

I love you.

“We have an hour and three minutes before the beginning of our watch,” Spock said aloud.

Ruth opened her eyes. “Good morning, Boss,” she said with a smile, then yawned.

Spock finished pulling his uniform tunic on. “Good morning, Miss Valley.”

She got out of double-sized bed and quickly straightened the covers. She had asked Spock about it sometime before they fell asleep – after that magnificent first time on the rug – and he admitted to having ordered it from Supply before he left for Vulcan. “Pretty confident, were you?” she’d asked with a grin. “Simply certain of your intent whether I was successful or not, " he’d replied. She smiled again. “Ready for the teasing?” she asked.

“I will survive it,” Spock said, and turned toward the replicator. “I assume you wish coffee?”

“Uh huh. And a shower,” she returned, then aimed her best leer at him. “Care to join me?”

“You take cold showers,” he told her. “And I am dressed.”

“I noticed.” She cocked her head. “Why?”

He stared down at himself for a moment. “Habit,” he replied at length.

“I can take warm showers,” Ruth coaxed.

“I can resist habit,” he responded.

Spock.

Beloved.

They were exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds late reporting for duty. Jilla smiled at them. Sulu chuckled. Jim didn’t mention it. McCoy sauntered over to the Science Station, grinning, as if he’d been waiting for them – which he undoubtedly had.

“Good morning, Spock,” he said loudly, then added with great glee, “Mrs. Spock.”

Spock gave him the expected raised eyebrow. “Doctor, the correct term is Lady…”

“And I ain’t one so give it up,” Ruth finished. “Besides, my last name isn’t ‘Spock.’

“Well, what is it then?” McCoy wanted to know.

Without a pause and without looking at each other, Spock and Ruth said together, “You wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

The Bridge broke into laughter.

“Get us to Headquarters, Mr. Sulu,” Jim said. “We’ve got crew replacements to pick up.”

The End