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THE
ALTAR BOYSummary: Slash Slash and more Slash!! Hope you like Vulcan smut?
What if it was not only Bendii syndrome but also something else that Sarek
was afflicted with? During his visit to the Enterprise, Sarek succumbs
to the fires of his mating time. Perrin, his aging human wife, is no longer
strong enough to attend to him. Sarek seeks solace in the Vulcan sanctuary
aboard ship. But what he finds is not solitary meditation but a fine specimen
of Vulcan manhood, Taurik! Taurik had been featured in the LowerDecks EP
along with a Bajoran named Sito. Funny thing he looks just like my
muse Vorik. Are you sure you two are not twins?
"My husband, you should be in our quarters," offered Perrin, the human wife of The Ambassador Plenipotentiary.
"Nonsense, my wife." A tense Sarek had no intention of cutting short this tour through the flagship of the federation. His wife graciously offered her fingertips. With minimal effort he unclenched his fingers then touched them to hers. His smooth tone belied his inner turmoil. "The Enterprise's Vulcan community has extended the hand of hospitality, I must answer the call."
With their aids in tow, the couple rounded the corner. Sarek quickly drew to a halt as he was taken aback by an unexpected reception. Aligned against the walls of the corridors were the one hundred seventy-five members of the Vulcan community. Most were in their Starfleet dress-uniforms, many in formal Vulcan attire. Even their children were amidst their ranks. A reverential hush swept down the dim aisle as all took note of their guest of honor. Bowed heads offered vulnerable necks and Sarek made his way down the line.
This mass show of respect was both gratifying and slightly annoying. It had been his intention to seek solitude in the Vulcan temple on board. During the course of his travels, Ambassador Sarek had begun to suffer the tug of the Vulcan mating instincts. Savage and smoldering, it had licked at his mastery all week. Perrin knew this and had pressed him to remain in their cabin. Though at her age, there was little she could do for him. He had decided to resolve this private matter in a Vulcan way, the third, the final and the most difficult alternative: meditation techniques. The shrine on board the Enterprise would have been the most suitable place for such an endeavor. But now, with these many in attendance, the shrine would now be out of the question.
The Vulcan Ambassador prepared to turn back to his wife and accept her entreaty of solitude in their quarters when he sensed something. Amidst the congregation, a handsome man caught Sarek's eye. His presence could not be denied. He was attired in his dress uniform. Over form-fitting black britches he donned his golden tunic, trimmed in gold thread with an ensign pip aligned upon his collar. The youth was shorter than Sarek, but wiry, and exuded a clean desert-like scent. His short blue-black hair was still damp at the ends and an incredibly smoldering excitement pressed against his mastery. The telepathic hormonal draw rolled off of him in waves and the ambassador sensed that he was shielding even more. The sensual impressions stung Sarek like an echoing song in the back of his mind.
In his younger days, he had enjoyed men, a few noble, even a few legendary. James T. Kirk amongst them, but none had possessed the depths of primal sexuality that this young one before him had: A virile Vulcan male in the prime of his life yet untouched by she who is his betrothed. Nothing in the quadrant was more delicious or enticing as this.
The white-haired, sexually charged Sarek, stood before the bowed assembly and boldly asked, "And your name, my son?" Being an elder, S'haile Sarek had the fortune of addressing the youths as such.
The dark haired ensign dared not look up while offering his name. "I am Taurik."
A pair of fingers beneath his chin halted his somber voice. This light touch compelled Taurik to raise his gaze. Smile lines teased at the edges of the Ambassador's flinty dark eyes. The Ensign felt as if those eyes had reached in and plucked his core. He sensed the charisma that this Vulcan possessed and thought, so this is was what has drawn recalcitrant Queens and squabbling delegates to his side.
This young one is fearless; Sarek contemplated as he scrutinized full
dark lips. He leveled his gaze back to dark luminous eyes.
"It has been reported that the Enterprise houses certain ancient scrolls
and a perfectly reconstructed version of the labyrinth of Velmahk.
I would be honored if you would make me acquainted with your temple and
garden, Taurik."
Inwardly, the frisky ensign quivered as the legendary Vulcan awaited his answer. "It would be my honor, S'haile."
"I take my leave, my wife. It is unknown how long it will be before
my return." Having selected his lamb from the flock, Sarek left his wife's
side and resumed his course to the temple. Perrin knew the tradition of
her adopted people and accepted her mate's dismissal with only the grace
a true diplomat could. She swallowed her human hurt and coolly replied,
"As you wish, Ambassador."
***
Sarek found the garden stroll and the company diverting as Taurik eagerly
offered the names of the various floras.
"I know what roses are, Taurik." Again he used the man's name, savoring
the sensual syllables upon his lips.
Rebuked, Taurik coyly averted his eyes. But he continued with the tour of the gardens, this time pointing out prized statues. Sarek knew them all well, for they had been in* his* gardens when his first wife, Amanda had lived. But he desired to nurture the young man's enthusiasm and did not attempt to halt his warbling.
Sarek breathed in the fragrance of life around him. The exotic G'teth bushes were heavy laden with their mocha beans. Taurik plucked a Pel-tar'uk olive then offered it to his companion. As Sarek chewed the succulent salty berry, he thought of how necessary this sanctuary must be to these space faring Vulcans.
Having been an active member of the Federation diplomacy since nearly its incarnation, Sarek had seen many Vulcans leave their home worlds for duty on board ships. At first his people had clustered together on Vulcan ships, sharing the adventure of space exploration with their culture intact: ships such as "Surak" and the ship the legendary Savej had commanded. Curious how the name escaped him. Sarek might have panicked, but this forgetful habit was becoming increasingly usual. Age, he reassured himself.
But it was this latest generation, which sought Starfleet careers that brought them to the farthest reaches of the quadrant. Deep traditions and customs were hallmarks of his people and these hearty adventurers were beginning to discover emptiness within.
Vulcans constituted a great deal of the population of Starfleet and strong communities such as this one on- board the Enterprise had been springing up on federation starships. Nearly five years ago, his wife, Perrin, had donated certain family scrolls and treasures to this Enterprise shrine. This was the Ambassador's first opportunity to view his former belongings. They complimented the other objects d'art in these austere gardens. The reproduction's atmosphere was uncanny: from the refreshing fountains to the even-swirls in the sandy contemplation pools. But it was the miniature shrine before them that drew Sarek's admiration. The jagged obsidian roofline slashed across the false orange sky, glittering beneath the artificial lights. Picard had been most generous in the space afforded to the Vulcans. The architectural details were exacting, of course, but necessarily scaled down. But a sense of grandness was still transmitted in the over sized doors and the symbol of t'triahve (IDIC) above them. Sputtering torches lit the stony pathway to the shrine.
The men halted their approach, taking a moment to appreciate the serenity. The younger looked to the elder and together their gaze drew down. Hewn into the stone path was the stylized script of the one for whom the sanctuary was named.
The torch lights snapped as Taurik offered to his ambassador, "Sonak, he who was.."
"Lost in a transporter accident on the first Enterprise. I know the
story, young one." Sarek again interrupted the man. It seemed that not
only was he loosing his memory but he was losing his manners as well. An
unacceptable loss. But his companion seemed non-plussed by this breech
in etiquette and Sarek continued. "I knew the man. That loss was
keenly experienced by many. An apt protector for your shrine." The walk
had done little to dispel Sarek's unrest. The fires only seemed to grow
with each moment in Taurik's presence.
Arriving at the temple doors, Taurik knocked on the timber frame, petitioning
entrance. Sarek discreetly regarded this black sheep beside him. Lean frame,
dark hair with a hint of unruliness, and full perky lips. With each soft
word uttered, Sarek had come to notice Taurik's white, even teeth. He then
thought of what those teeth could do to. He noticed the bare pegs in the
foyer and wondered why the ceremonial cowls were not offered to visitors.
But Sarek, being a Vulcan of superior upbringing, observed tradition and
removed his shoes while waiting for the priestess. Taurik did so as well
and apologized for the oversight of ritual robes. "They had been removed
in anticipation of a full celebration upon your arrival, Ambassador."
The matron answered the door, interrupting their exchange. Her extremely austere demeanor was typical of adepts of the Kohlinar. But the priestess' robes and veils were those of a civilian healer. Sarek knew that many of the ship board denominations preferred to employee the mates of Vulcan officers rather than taking on board adepts from Vulcan temples. Her accent was unmistakably that of one from Nisus: one of Vulcan's most successful colony worlds. "Thee are most welcome, Ambassador Sarek."
"Reldai," he offered her by way of greeting. With a breath of a bow, she accepted the title, then permitted the men entrance into her shrine. The Ambassador crossed the threshold first; his bare feet immediately refreshed by the cool stone.
The dusky temple air was thick with spicy incense. Sarek drew it in deeply as he took in the impressive open space. Placid calm descended over him, just as the incense and the sights were meant to. Through the stained glass windows, shafts of colored light accented the swirling smoke. Torches sputtered upon the cave like wall. Though, on a fraction of scale, it was still an excellent replica of the more simple shrines back on Vulcan. Sarek noticed how elements from other famous shrines had been incorporated. Upon the stone floor, intricate mosaics told the tales of the fury and the passion that was Vulcan. This depiction had been slightly altered from the original back in Ta'vistar.
The warm hand of his associate brushed past his. < Taurik had felt the warm fingers of the Ambassador and a terrible rage
sliced through his calm. A calm that had already been rattled by that Vulcan's
piercing eyes. Taurik had an inkling of something impending but what he
did not know. The Vulcan still reeled at being singled out by the ambassador.
It was a great honor.
The matron of the temple offered the ambassador her hospitality
"A drink of water or a kreyla biscuit perhaps?"
"No need, Reldai. I am here for one thing. To appreciate your shrine,
in private."
"Indeed, Ambassador, then that is what thee shall have. Young one,"
The matron called to Taurik.
Panic whipped through the ambassador. "No," he started a little too
urgently. "I would petition for this one to remain while I meditate."
"Great one," the crone offered, "this one has an exemplary voice.
His mantras are rhythmic and his voice is stellar. Lulling and deep, he
will ease any burden you may have."
"I look forward to the event." It took a great effort not to let his
eyes sparkle at her comment. Discreetly wiping his sweaty palms on his
inner sleeves, the senior Vulcan easily staved off the beckoning fires.
To be so close to this man was intoxicating. To touch upon his strong
muscular body, his innocent, logical mind would be golden. Sarek suffocated
in this oppressive distance from him and was impatient for the matron to
leave.
Both men watched the matron offer a deep bow of honor. Both returned
in equal kind. The sound of her slow solemn departure filled the hall.
In her wake, the men looked at each other, silently communing in this shared
solitude. To Taurik it felt odd to boldly stare into the eyes of
another man, but he was compelled. It seemed to him that Sarek had no intention
of breaking the gaze.
"Your voice? Were you classically trained?"
"Indeed?....Well," Desire licked at his thoughts, causing him to slightly
falter. The beckoning altar loomed behind Taurik. Sarek drew on his
reserves, gathered his robes then took up a seat in the pew. "Please
I implore you. Intrigue me," Sarek steepled his fingers beneath his chin
as he continued to stare.
Taurik rocked on his bare heels as the ambassador settled in. Could
he be uneasy performing in front of me? Sarek wondered. Or does he know?
Through hooded lids, Sarek once again appraised this man's attributes.
His formal tunic and snug fitting pants accentuated his gifts: sturdy calves,
a flat stomach, elegant hands with slender fingers and slightly furred
knuckles. Sarek longed to appraise the backside of this toned man.
As if Taurik had heard his silent plea, he turned around. His bare feet
padded along the stone. Sarek nearly chuckled at his spirited gait.
Taurik knew this temple and its acoustics and took his place in the
sweet spot. He licked his own lips, moistening them. Nervously
wiping his sweaty palms on his black trousers, the Vulcan cleared his throat.
The gruff cough gently echoed off the glorious austerity of the shrine.
All this time Taurik could feel the ambassador's curious intense stare
upon him. Taurik imagined that the look meant something, that it was asking
a burning question: will you?
With a slow sensuality, Taurik began the initial mantra. His sonorous
voice echoed and rebounded off the stone walls and the high timbered ceilings.
A nasally but powerful sound emerged from the back of Taurik's throat.
Sarek absently noted that he was talented but not as phenomenal as those
were on the home world. But their lives had been solely devoted to the
pursuit of the song while this one was probably devoted to the engines
of this starship. For these Vulcans, far from home, this songster
of the desert was adequate, if he could stir their hearts and engage their
intellects. The intonation carried up and over Sarek, his voice seemingly
everywhere at once. Taurik drew in deep breaths to sustain the long vibratos.
Haunting and enticing, the wailing siren enchanted Sarek and he longed
to touch upon this magic.
Taurik continued his lilting dirge, while Sarek of Vulcan abandoned
his seat. Taurik witnessed his approach and never missed a note as Sarek
drew as closely as possible. A hand taller than the youth, his warm desert
breath blew upon Taurik's ear. The riveted prey closed his eyes as the
smitten predator encircled him. Taurik felt the Ambassador's jeweled robes
lightly brush against his thighs and his fists clenched tightly in response.
Sarek had to slow his breathing lest he hyperventilate. This man was madding
and here they were in private at the temple: the most appropriate place
to resolve one's Pon Farr.
He could not put his frail, human wife through his mating ritual again.
Nor was he interested in performing this rite with Key Mendrosa. To display
all of his Vulcan vulnerabilities to that man would not be satisfactory.
Sakketh was unbonded and that was a dangerous affair. That young man was
too valuable as an objective aid and Sarek had no desire for his body.
But this one...was fodder for every lustful desire he could conjure.
It was obvious that Taurik was bonded. All Vulcans could tell this of
each other. It was something in their bearing or the eyes or it was instinctual.
No one was certain. But this one had moved him: the musical essence that
touched Sarek upon the initial meeting, the dusky masculine scent, raspy
chin and finely pointed ears. Sarek could see the pleasurable possibilities
of partaking of this one's flesh and leaving his mind and bond intact.
Shaky fingers traced over the strong jaw and Taurik's' voice slightly
cracked. The song was hushed with a single fingertip to precious
lips and Taurik trembled. Chills swept through his being as Sarek of Vulcan
explored his face. Normally Vulcans would not allow their bangs to touch
their brows, but the shagginess was endearing, Sarek noted, adding to his
sweetness.
"Your hair requires a trim, young one." Sarek's own voice was
rock steady. But Taurik could still detect the underlying quiver.
He smiled, realizing that The Ambassador was afflicted by desire as well.
"S'haile," with a light fingertip to his lips, Taurik was once again
silenced.
"Say nothing," was the fervent whisper in his ear.
Sarek of Vulcan took him. His hands wantonly roamed over the pious
man's uniform, finding the clasp at the neck. In a breath, the fine tunic
was slipped off his shoulders, then flung to the nearby pew. Lustful
hands traveled along his taut belly while lips suckled a pointy ear.
Taurik was paralyzed by this gentle seduction, like the consecrated sacrifice
being soothed before its slaughter. Sarek longed to be kissed -kissed
in the Vulcan way. He held out his paired fingers: an invitation.
Taurik caressed them, sending his innocent essence into the elder, kissing
him internally. Taurik reveled in the passionate power play that the men
had unwittingly engaged in: how to best the other with the subtlest telepathic
touch. But Sarek, being more practiced and more motivated won out.
Taurik trembled as he submitted to Sarek's mouth. Never before
had he been kissed. He found it warm, wet and demanding. Succulent
lips took his, an urgent tongue rimmed his teeth, explored the inside of
his upper lip, then finally dove deep into his mouth. Taurik yielded as
the thick muscle inspired his manhood.
Warm bodies invoked mutual fires. Ancient Vulcan instincts honed
their senses, every inflicted touch was keenly felt. No portion of mastery
was spared. In between his legs, Taurik was already damp with perspiration.
The ambassador was eager. Inspecting his sacrament, Sarek drew his paired
fingers over the furred chest enjoying these muscles and taut nipples,
cupping the slight swell of chest muscles.
His cheek grazed over Taurik's, as his mouth tasted this strong neck.
Taurik closed his eyes and grasped the robes of the still dressed ambassador,
staying his passionate longing to rip them from his frame. Sarek's manhood
was evident and he pressed the thick roll to his prey's firm thigh.
Sarek longed to behold his treasure. To see his wild eyes, flushed face,
to witness his undoing and tempt his mastery, just as he had tempted Sarek's,
with merely a look and a whiff of his clean scent.
Sarek's gaze flashed over again to the altar. The image of the
prostrate Taurik teased at his senses. He longed to know him in every
possible way.
"S'haile, I..I..I.." Taurik stammered.
"You are bonded. That is correct?" Sarek watched the man quickly nod.
"Do not be concerned it will remain intact. I can assure you." A
smitten Sarek made a feeble attempt to smile. His palms stroked across
the dark fleecy hair of Taurik's torso, enjoying the staccato heart beat
deep within.
Taurik, reassured by the Ambassador's promise, gently yielded the tribute
of his body. Sarek held his gaze then unclasped his own robes. Taurik again
trembled in anticipation with each resounding clasp. He was treated to
the gray haired bare chest of this Vulcan of myth. Impulsively, his fingers
drew across Sarek's jaw, lingering upon his chin. It was the sacrament's
turn to entreat the captor, tenderly wielding his affections. And a gentle
thumb teased over Sarek's thick lower lip. Reeling from the touch, Sarek
shivered as the hand lightly enclosed about his throat.
Humans were passionate and possessed a fire of their own, but they were
no matches for the power and the sheer heat of a Vulcan body, a Vulcan
fingertip touch, and a Vulcan mind. It was the mind that Sarek longed
to slip himself into. As well as a strong tight body and this young
one was going to be just what the inflamed elder needed. He could cast
these fiery desert passions, his blood fever upon him without harm to either
of them. His beloved Perrin had nearly died from a coronary during his
last time and he swore that he would never force her to endure that again.
Taurik's palm caressed down Sarek's chest. Blazing a trail over his
nipples daring to drift down his belly.
"You waste no time, young one"
"I burn for thee, " Taurik offered. "I do not understand any of this."
He glanced down at the robes. They swayed with each of the ambassador's
movements.
Taurik could not look any further, fear passed through him as he realized
the enormity of this event. Leaning close to Sarek, his trembling lips
brushed over his in an innocent kiss. "Take care with me, S'haile.
I am young and there have been no experiences."
"I know," whispered the ambassador. His fingers sought and found Taurik's
pants buttons. "That is why thee were chosen." And he let the pants
drop to the floor. The thick shaft bobbed with his pulse. "Very well chosen."
He added as his pulse quickened, his face heated.
Taurik winced when hot hands initially gripped on his shaft. The shock
bore down on him, and he staggered. Then the strokes became light and delicate,
nearly imperceptible and the Vulcan sacrifice cried out for more. Through
the haze of budding flames, Taurik questioned how could he feel this? He
was not in the Pon far? Was he? In some mysterious way, this man had tapped
into all of his ancient drives. Beads of sweat surfaced on his face
as he attempted to contain his instincts. Sarek admired this man's
efforts and felt the beads drip to his stroking hand. The elder pressed
his chest to Taurik's and their slick iron staffs dueled in their snug
confine.
"Indeed a most suitable choice." Sarek murmured that he could not resist
any longer. With a hasty mind touch he was able to awaken in Taurik
the deepest passion. Only Vulcan's giant sand swimmers, the underliers
knew such depths: oppressively comforting fiery pressure as one longed
for another's mind touch, another's heat. With one hand felt
upon his temple and the other felt on his shaft, Taurik bloomed to a full
fire.
< << I want to touch you.>>the other answered.
In a mind-numbing flurry, Taurik found himself against the cool smooth
stone. His chest was pressed to the altar, while his backside reared
up in the warm temple air. His soft pouch was stroked, and his fingers
griped the ledge. Sacred Rillan grease was smeared upon his crevice.
Somehow somewhere his vicar had secured it. And he inwardly screamed at
the sweltering heat the grease inspired. Then the searing subsided and
transformed into a low languishing throb. Taurik recovered his awareness.
Now properly sanctioned, the lamb lay upon the altar, supplicant and ready
for it own sacrifice.
Taurik quivered as a slender finger wormed into his body.
Sarek's voice teased at his ear, while he ministered, "It will
not hurt, kushel-kam (little bird)."
"The concern is not about any pain, my lord." This title drew a slight
smile to Sarek lips.
"Pleasure will abound. I am in need of comfort, cherished one." With
great care, Sarek stroked the tender rump of his sacrament. Handling Taurik
with kidskin gloves, a finger lazily stroked up and down the scorching
slippery crevice. "In ancient times, altars served this purpose:
to bond families together. The male and female that joined in matrimony,
even males consecrated their vows to their fellow warriors. This
act was utilized to ensure trust and fealty."
"I would do for you how ancient warrior bonds were made." Taurik feebly
murmured while wantonly offering his body.
Sarek, stirred by the ritual pledge, swallowed hard before continuing.
He pressed the succulent cheeks together and slid his shaft in between,
riding the greased layers of flesh "From the time of the beginning, our
females decided the males' fates. Blood feuds and frenzies pitted brother
against brother. How can she select only one from the flock?
Could he be a worthy reward unless his heart and honor was soldered to
hers? How can anyone be bonded to another unless under this kind of duress?
Mmm." Sarek groaned as his need became further inflamed. "For one so tender,
you seem so strong." He prodded the tight hole. The naked Taurik
cried out for more. "Most satisfactory."
Taurik reared up his buttocks, inviting his lord to partake of his flesh.
The hot fires began in his loins and Sarek fought down this aggression.
Though he was content to go slowly, his need demanded to be satisfied.
His aged hands ruthlessly clutched furred flesh, holding Taurik steady
as his tip pushed in. Taurik shivered and begged him to take him.
The whimpers of the prostrate man drove Sarek mad and the fires whipped
through him. Sure and steady, each of Sarek's allegro thrusts plucked Taurik's
inner organ, showering the youth in a glorious ecstasy, resurrecting ancient
suppressed desires: hunger, lust, and insatiable cravings. It was a rage
and a blaze, a blinding rut.
Taurik looked to the candles on the sideboard. A stray hair
crossed his dark eye as his body rubbed against the stone with each thrust.
He witnessed the shadowy image of their rutting.
"S'haile," Taurik bleated to his tormenting vicar. His pleas went unanswered.
Sarek pillaged his prey with a magnificent blinding lust that now eclipsed
all of his Vulcan reserve.
It was all too great. Never before had Taurik experienced such emotion
and his teeth sunk into his forearm, smothering his blissful whimpers,
holding his breath. When he came up for air, Taurik's gaze focused on a
point far away. A slow grind crept towards a steady groove. The blissful
snow-white haired Vulcan briskly pounded away at his dark offering. Sharp
cries jumped from Taurik's throat as his trapped manhood suddenly released
in ecstasy. Sarek watched the convulsions overwhelm him. Gentle
fingers kneaded the wonderfully soft rump, prolonging the delight, flirting
with the euphoria. Soulful mourning filled the air, as Taurik's sweltering
body resumed the drive to delight his benefactor.
First passing a hand over the fine flesh, Sarek's fingers then encircled
a dark mole. It was a beauty mark that wonderfully marred the man's
perfectly clear skin. Fornication with men was a delight to the Vulcan
ambassador. He thought of all the desirable aspects of such a rutting.
His hungry tongue licked his own lips, as he mused on the desire to taste
the other's aftermath, savoring the spent passions as it lingered upon
his lips, tongue and teeth. How the fluids would sear his throat, then
grow warm in the pit of his belly. How he would attempt to restoke *his*
fires with tender lips and mouth; it was a deeply cherished desire.
Unfettered by Vulcan controls, Sarek let loose upon this trapped body
beneath. In and out, Sarek's iron slid, as his pouch slapped against Taurik's.
The pattering of flesh was overshadowed by the sputters of torches and
low groans. Taurik's engorged manhood was snuggled in between his hot body
and the cool stone. The incessant thrusting drew forth another climax,
this one, less taxing.
Sarek was leisure in his killing, driving his spear deeper into this
willing body. The sacrifice cried out his surrender with each impaling.
Sarek furiously buried his rod, witnessing Taurik's virginal hole eagerly
swallow its penance. Enjoying this heat, enjoying this excruciating
tightest, this hell that was heaven to him.
The renting open of his body was excruciatingly intimate and exposed
Taurik to vulnerability he had never known before. It was decadent, carnal
and the energy consumed all of his reserve. There was no holding back.
Everything was fervently felt and celebrated and he longed for it to never
end. Sweat beads trickled along the youth's skin and pooled at the small
of his back. The scent of sex swirled about both men: sweat, grease,
and hormones. But friction started to become an issue. Sarek smeared
more Rillan onto his loving victim, laying out this offering for the entire
universe to witness and accept.
Very close they were. The men lingered along the fringe, delighting
in the shared procrastination. Drilling his tool in deeper, boring
into the dark lamb, seeking his center, his life. Sarek groaned and picked
up the pace. Taurik closed his eyes; his face flushed a deep green.
Upon the tip of his nose, one bead of perspiration lingered then dripped
to the stone. The youth stoically enduring this passion and heard Sarek's
deep growls.
Taurik cried out as he suffered with yet another release. These amazing
death throes upon Sarek's groin strengthened the fires in his loin.
But Sarek had only begun his Pon Farr. He required the power of the
mind. He burrowed deep into Taurik leaned down then touched his temples.
The thrusts reached a break neck speed and Taurik thought he heard a slight
crack. For a split second, he wondered if the altar had shaken loose from
its foundation. Delirious and unthinking, Taurik pressed his forehead to
the cool refreshing stone. Instincts were dominating reason. They
could not be controlled and the instinct, the urge, the delight, flowed
to its natural resolution. They began in the navel, thin shudders wracked
every muscle in his body, unraveling the remnants of his emotional constraints.
Fingers clutched into stone and flesh as the men wracked in this mutual
passion.
"Come," the sacrifice wailed, "come so heavy." Sarek's body and mind
erupted, then flowed into Taurik.
Taurik accepted all in a blinding moment, as the master reached into
his core squeezing the life and blood from his heart. Rushing blood deafened
him to all but his own staccato breaths, in a paralyzing throbbing mutual
abeyance of living. In a blurred motion, the temple stones transformed
to vast red desert plains. Nevasa, the great Vulcan sun, let her rays scorch
Taurik's naked back while million upon billions of his own looked on in
abject contemplation. The vision whipped to a soothing, babbling brook,
trickling through lush greens. Jewels of light glittered upon the surface,
the light beating, pulsating. Ecstasy, redemption, relief. Lights, blinding
his eyes, blinding his mind, searing his pupils, flickering flame. The
glow, smoky curling wisps.
The vision receded and Taurik was back in the temple. The sputtering
candle sole witness to the magnificent undoing. Another life spared from
the urgency of this illusive secret truth in a Vulcan's life: the mating
is their greatest irony and their most lavish happiness. Though it would
never be admitted to outside this time, because it could not be remembered.
The passions abated, the pace lessened and his tormentor's grip slackened
from his sodden flesh. Sickly fluids seeped and oozed from his happy wound
and Taurik slumped to the stone. The Ambassador withdrew from the
cozy body. Drowsy lips planted kisses upon Taurik's back as the mating
drive dwindled. Taurik longed to turn over to reciprocate, but the loving
attack had left him utterly exhausted. Sarek drew his robes closed
then let his hands travel over the prone sacrifice's body, as salve for
this ferocious ravishment. Still resting on the stone, Taurik dared
not move, could not move while his sharp breaths ruled his being and echoed
in the shrine. He was spent by the elders' passions and numb from
the unexpected visions during the sharing. Slick black hair and a
perspiration sheen covered green body was Taurik's reward for his endurance.
For the time being, Sarek's fires had been vanquished. He was barely
green and his body remained dry except for his hands. They always were
clammy during these times. Above the gasping breaths, of the pretty youth
were the Ambassador's solid footfalls. He came around the altar; squatted
down and tenderly looked at his spent treasure. Sarek drew his fingers
over the thoroughly flushed face, tucked his slick hair behind his pointy
ear. Taurik was not even able to open his eyes.
"I thank thee for your participation in my time of need, Taurik of Vulcan."
The fulfilled Sarek said.
"Sarek," Taurik opened his eyes and boldly called to him. Perhaps
it was the intimacy that made him daring. "It was my greatest delight to
serve thee. Might I serve again?" A smile lit upon his lips this time.
How eager this one was, Sarek thought. "Indeed. Thee will be summoned."
He firmly held a handful of Taurik's hair. "It is just the beginning, young
one and this mission will be my final one. I wish to conclude it with honor.
You will aid me?"
"Indeed, Sarek." Taurik boldly offered, then he noticed the quirked
brow. He had over stepped his bounds by invoking the name again. "S'haile,"
Taurik amended then leaned closer to entice another kiss. Sarek gave
him his due in tender. Lost in this novel pressing of lips, a smoldering
Taurik let out a low moan. Then it was over and Sarek began to depart
leaving him to his recovery upon the altar.
Sarek called over his shoulder "Young one, it is time that my
tour continued."
Taurik gained his strength and shakily rose from the stone. "Yes S'haile."
The Ensign was still stunned by this onslaught of emotions and physical
exchanges. It had been an experience he hungered to repeat. Then he wondered
about she who was his mate and if she had shared in this delirious rutting
through their delicate betrothal bond. Time and space had distanced them
of late.
Sarek threw a white altar cloth at him. With a keen eye, he watched
while he wiped sticky fluids from his skin: off his belly, from his tuft,
finally wiping his waning erection clean of viscous spent passions.
Sarek licked his lips as an impulse to lick the man arose. Then he reconsidered,
for he was already late and his wife, Perrin, no doubt would be awaiting
his return.
"Next time," he murmured. Taurik gave him a quizzical look then
realized what the hidden meaning was. He returned to wiping the smeared
semen off his thighs.
"Perhaps tonight, Ambassador? I will be off duty at 24 hundred hours."
"I will await thee with bated breath." The Vulcan knew that this light
shower had only washed away the fires for a while. It was merely a taste
and they would return in full force in but a few short hours.
Both men would have resembled proper Vulcans if it were not for Taurik's
unruly hair. He drew to the fountain where the water silently ran down
the graduated cups. He took in handful after handful, cleansing his
face, running his wet fingers through his thick unruly hair. The water
cooled his flushed face, calming him. Tiny beads of water clung to his
lashes and he took up the clean cloth by the fountain side. This
was a ritual-cleaning fountain. He had never been told who or what
it would be used for. Now he knew.
"We must dress."
Taurik grabbed his rumpled tunic and pants then hastily pulled them
on
"Slowly, Taurik, dress slowly." Sarek ordered. The thaw of icy reserve
had begun and the Vulcan was feeling more at ease with each smile.
Taurik complied and pulled his pants on slowly, tucking his flaccid penis
in. < As Taurik drew on his formal tunic, Sarek moved closer to assist with
the clasps. Unwilling to let this moment be over too soon, Taurik allowed
the Ambassador this final pleasure. And he took his time in clasping Sarek's
rich robes. They exchanged light kisses with each clasp.
Withdrawing his fingers from Taurik's, a silent and redeemed Sarek led
his scapegoat out of the shrine. Finally restored to his Vulcan senses,
Taurik began to gleefully hum the familiar mantra. A bemused Sarek
humorously quirked his brow.
"Save it for later, ashaysu (lover). You will need all of your mastery
then!"
The end!
"No, S'haile. I come by it naturally."
"I am concerned about the pleasure you will inflict."
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