The McCoy/Chapel story! :)
Jun. 18th, 2007 10:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
syredronningYeah, I know it's not my normal playfield, but Djinn wrote Spock/Chapel in which Chapel has McCoy as "friend with options", and my muses ran before I could get a hold on them, sigh :)
Title: There is the Past, There is Today
Author: Acidqueen
Series: TOS
Codes: Mc/Ch
Rating: R
Author's Note: This story was inspired by Djinn's "Nowhere to Go, Nothing to Say" Spock/Chapel story, in which Chapel remarks about McCoy as 'friend with options'. My muses took it and made a few steps ;)
Disclaimer: Others own Star Trek. My only profit is fun time.
Acknowledgement: Many thanks to Djinn for encouraging me to write this prequel and then making a great beta on it! All remaining errors are mine.
Summary: Two old friends, reconnecting.
***
It was a bright, hot day – or what accounted to a bright day in San Francisco lately, with some side effects of the probe on Earth's weather control still undone. The air was a little damp, and Commander Chapel started to regret she'd gone to her date in full uniform. She regretted it a little more when she met her former department head at the appointed café and took in his thin cotton clothes and open sandals, his eyes covered by big sunglasses.
Leonard McCoy, currently suspended medical officer of Starfleet, went up from his seat at the small round table, and after a moment of simply looking into each other's eyes, they embraced. Once locked in each other's arms, they seemed unable to stop; too much had happened in the meantime, so many things left unspoken since Spock's death. The few lines of the few text messages they had been able to exchange hadn't explained anything. The hug went endlessly, and she managed to press a little kiss on his cheek. He returned it.
Finally she stepped back a little. His hands slipped into hers, and it was good to keep contact. She examined him. She had seen him before, but only briefly or at a distance: a press meeting, a drive to the medical facilities for a check-up - things like that. His summer clothes revealed his scrawny figure a lot more than even his other civilian outfit had done.
"Gosh, Len, you're even thinner than last time I saw you," she said.
"That's an optical illusion," he said. "I'm the same size as before." He gestured towards the table. "Shall we stay or have a little walk in the park instead?"
"Actually, I think it's too damp for both. I'd love to change into something more comfortable."
"Well, you don't live too far from here. I wouldn't mind walking over. Afterwards, we can see what we can do."
"Great idea," she replied with a nod. They fell into an easy step as they started walking down the road. He still held her hand, or maybe it was more her holding his; there was something comforting in feeling his warm flesh, as if it was the final proof that all her former shipmates had come back alive. The vision of an almost crash-landing Bird of Prey still haunted her dreams once in a while.
"I'm really glad to see you," she said.
"That's my line." He smiled and squeezed her hand. "You're looking good."
"Thanks. Though I didn't have a good time exactly."
"I can imagine that. First Spock's death, and then our little trip to Genesis..." He let the planet's name linger.
"And then Vulcan. And back saving the Earth."
"All in a day's work."
"It took you months to get back."
"Spock needed the time," he said simply.
"And you?"
He maneuvered her through a group of tourists without releasing his grip. "It took some time to repair the ship."
"I was speaking about you, Len. How you are doing?"
"Is that the question of a friend, or of a fellow medical officer?"
She thought about it. "Both, I guess."
"Set aside those moments where I do funny things I can't quite remember why or how later, I'm quite alright."
"Funny things?"
"Like trying a Vulcan nerve grip."
She laughed. "Did it work?"
He shook his head. "Sadly, no. It would come in handy, once in a while."
Suddenly, she didn't feel like going home at all. "Hey, let's go down this road." She nudged him around a corner into a little street.
"Change of plan?" he asked, one eyebrow rising.
"Yes." Now it was her leading the way, down and along a slope to a small café near a little canal. She gestured him to take a seat at the last free table.
"I'll be back in a minute," she said. He gave her a strange look, but sat down. She vanished into the café and returned in a dress ten minutes later. Her shoes didn't really fit to it, but his eyes widened in appreciation anyway.
"I'm impressed," he said. "Are they selling clothes at the bars now?"
"No, I had forgotten it here a while ago." She rotated a little, which made the hem swing.
"Forgotten?" There was the trademark brow again.
"It's not what you think," she said. "I'd been shopping with a friend lately and forgot the parcel here."
He didn't press for details. They had a few deals between them, and one was that they didn't speak of lovers, past or present. And while her friend didn't really fall among that category, it was a little bit complicated...
Resolutely she put down the bag with her other clothes and sat down opposite to him.
"Their ice cream is highly recommendable."
"Sounds good," he said. "Didn't have ice cream in a while." They ordered two portions and espressos to go with it.
"How was Vulcan?" she asked.
He made a face. "Hot."
She understood a hint when she got one and switched themes, chatting about ops. But it didn't take long before the latest adventure of the Enterprise crew came up again.
"I'm sorry," she said with a sigh. "There wasn't anything else as remarkable as that."
"I know," he replied. "Let's hope we're soon through with the trial and can move on to the interstellar coal miner."
"There aren't any coal miners in space."
"They might well build one for us, powered by the Klingon High Command."
She couldn't help laughing. "I'm glad that you didn't change at all. I wasn't sure what to expect."
He shrugged. "What did you expect? Pointed ears? My saying 'it's fascinating' half the time?"
"I don't know. But if I didn't know the story, I would've never guessed."
"Thank you," he said flatly. "May I cite you in my next hearing before the medical board? Might get my license back after all."
"They took away your license?" she asked, with a little guilty conscience. She hadn't known, but she could have looked it up.
"First taken into custody with the suspicion of schizophrenia, then stolen a starship, controlled by an alien mind that was finally removed in an archaic ritual…now, what do you think that will do to my sanity?"
"Your sanity seems perfectly alright," Chris said. "But I can see it's not big in a CV."
"Especially since I really was a little insane at times."
She nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."
He drowned his coffee. "Let's call it a day."
She paid their bill and he took her bag as they walked to her apartment house.
He removed the sunglasses as they walked into the building towards the lift. There were some new wrinkles in his face, but not as many as she would have expected from Vulcan's burning sun. Despite the relaxed afternoon, there was a slight tension in his features.
The lift arrived, and she stepped into it. He put a hand on the frame. "Chris –"
"You're coming up for a coffee?" she cut off his upcoming words of good-bye, unwilling to just let him go his way.
"A coffee?"
"Or anything else." She placed her foot between the automatic doors.
One of the best things about Len was that he was never intimidating, never forcing his way. It made offering things so much easier. The perfect part-time lover, as long as you didn't want anything more…and they both didn't.
After a moment of thought, he nodded. "Coffee would be fine," he said and entered the lift. She wasn't sure if that was a no to the 'anything else' part, but didn't care. That was the good thing about old friends too, she thought as they moved upwards. It was never complicated.
*
It turned out she had been right in her assessment. Of it being uncomplicated, that was. There had been coffee and a comfortable couch, and everything else had just moved on from there, ending in her bedroom. He hadn't forgotten what she liked best, and reacted to everything she did just in the way she expected. The stay on Vulcan had made his muscles a little stronger, and she liked the feel of it when she closed her hand around his arms and shoulders. It felt so good, so needed...damn, she hadn't known she'd been so starved and tense from all that had happened over the last months.
"Told you you should have more sex," McCoy said with a lazy grin as he rolled away from her in the end, as if he had been able to read her mind. "Doctor's orders."
"I couldn't, really," she admitted.
He nodded, a serious expression shadowing his face. "I'm sorry that we couldn't inform you in person. That I couldn't tell you."
She shrugged. "I don't see how you could've managed," she said. "How about something to drink?"
"The coffee, at last?" he asked amused.
"Sure."
They went into the kitchen together without donning any clothes. Her coffee machine was absolute standard and he figured it out in a second. She got two cups from the shelf and then, having nothing else to do, she watered the eternally neglected plant that stood on her window sill.
"Don't you wanna know anything about him?" he asked out of the blue.
"About who?"
He rotated towards her. "About Spock! Everyone's asking me about Spock, sooner or later. And you, of all persons, should've asked in the very first second."
"I've read the news," she said lamely. Actually, she had inhaled everything she could find about Spock, be it news, gossip or Fleet reports, only to be annoyed with herself for that foolish behavior afterwards.
"You don't have to pretend you don't care. I know better." He poked her shoulder. "You still love him."
"I don't. And it's none of your business anyway."
"He might change his mind one day. Realize what he's about to miss out."
"What didn't you get about the 'not your business' line?" she asked, annoyed.
"Maybe it's a bit of my business by now," he said.
"Because you –" Realization dawned her. "How much do you know?"
He turned away, suddenly very interested in her coffee machine. The brew was ready, and he filled the steaming liquid into their cups.
"Tell me. Please."
He shed a glance at her. "It's hard to say. It's not as if I can put anything in words. I'm rather sure that there's something inside of him caring about you, but it might be just as buried in him as it is in you."
"He saw to that," she said with a deep frown. "And I'm over him, for years. How dare you bring it up. I thought we had a deal."
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry. Sometimes things come up that I should rather forget."
"I don't care what's in your mind, but I care what you say. And that part was always purely Leonard McCoy, to the core."
He raised his hands in a gestured plea. "Guilty as charged. I won't drop a word about it in the future." His forefinger drew a line of an invisible zipper in front of his lips.
"Good thing." She relented as she saw him being genuinely sorry, and drew a little closer, fishing for her cup of coffee. Their bodies touched, and she examined the current level of response, hers and his. There might be a second round in it - after the coffee.
"The night is still young," he said.
She frowned. "Did you get psychic in your old days?"
"Not that I know of." He took his own cup and walked to her small living area. Ever the observant man, he waited for her to place a towel underneath them before they sat down on her white couch.
"I know, it's a silly habit," she said apologetically.
"I wouldn't want to clean it either." When they were seated, he took the leg closest to him to place it over his. She stretched the freely-hanging foot, noticing that the painted nails looked a bit chipped. He stroked her knee.
"I don't particularly care for painted nails," he said.
"But I do," she replied.
"There are more interesting things to a woman than her toe nails."
"Like what?"
"Like...that." His free hand drifted upwards along the inner side of her thigh. Yes, definitely another round, which was fine by her. Once their cups were empty, they returned to the bedroom to make love again, a lot slower and more relaxed than the first time. There was something to be said for a surgeon's hands, at least in McCoy's case – surprisingly, Chapel had found most of her other colleagues lacking in that area.
"They ain't used to touching the living," he murmured in her ear as he kept her trembling body close to orgasm. But she was too far gone to care that he uncannily had read her thoughts again. He took his sweet time to satisfy her, which made the highlight all the more ecstatic. She returned the pleasure by going down on him. Definitely more muscles, yes, though she didn't know how he managed to hide them. Her hands clamped in his upper thighs, she expertly kept him on the edge for a while, before he muttered a complaint about his blue balls. It made her smile inwardly; it made her also kick him over the edge.
Afterwards, he looked rather exhausted. She left him for a moment to refresh herself.
"Was I that good?" she asked with a laugh when she returned. He didn't seem to have moved a muscle.
He cracked an eye. "I'm not used to that sport anymore." He yawned heartily.
"You can stay for the night, if you want to." It wasn't something she usually offered – and he hadn't ever taken her up on it either - but tonight it felt right.
"Do you think you can bear me in the morning?" he murmured.
"I could – if you could, too. My hair looks terrible after sleeping on it."
A smile stretched his lips. "I don't care about that either."
"And I thought you liked long hair." She lay down at his side, putting her head on his shoulder.
"Oh, I love it." He proved it by combing through her strands. "But I don't mind if it's disheveled or anything." His fingertips glided along her chin. "You're wonderful, Chris. Thanks for the great day. I needed it." He pulled her into a kiss.
"For king and country," she murmured with a lazy smile, bringing up an old joke that came down from their very first night together. Then she pulled the thin sheet over them and switched off the lights.
"For king and country," he whispered and spooned her. She clasped his hand as it rested on her stomach, musing about the astonishingly comforting touch before drifting into sleep.
***
And it looks as if I need to teach my newest customer that it is no good idea to call before 10 on any morning...*yawns*
Title: There is the Past, There is Today
Author: Acidqueen
Series: TOS
Codes: Mc/Ch
Rating: R
Author's Note: This story was inspired by Djinn's "Nowhere to Go, Nothing to Say" Spock/Chapel story, in which Chapel remarks about McCoy as 'friend with options'. My muses took it and made a few steps ;)
Disclaimer: Others own Star Trek. My only profit is fun time.
Acknowledgement: Many thanks to Djinn for encouraging me to write this prequel and then making a great beta on it! All remaining errors are mine.
Summary: Two old friends, reconnecting.
***
It was a bright, hot day – or what accounted to a bright day in San Francisco lately, with some side effects of the probe on Earth's weather control still undone. The air was a little damp, and Commander Chapel started to regret she'd gone to her date in full uniform. She regretted it a little more when she met her former department head at the appointed café and took in his thin cotton clothes and open sandals, his eyes covered by big sunglasses.
Leonard McCoy, currently suspended medical officer of Starfleet, went up from his seat at the small round table, and after a moment of simply looking into each other's eyes, they embraced. Once locked in each other's arms, they seemed unable to stop; too much had happened in the meantime, so many things left unspoken since Spock's death. The few lines of the few text messages they had been able to exchange hadn't explained anything. The hug went endlessly, and she managed to press a little kiss on his cheek. He returned it.
Finally she stepped back a little. His hands slipped into hers, and it was good to keep contact. She examined him. She had seen him before, but only briefly or at a distance: a press meeting, a drive to the medical facilities for a check-up - things like that. His summer clothes revealed his scrawny figure a lot more than even his other civilian outfit had done.
"Gosh, Len, you're even thinner than last time I saw you," she said.
"That's an optical illusion," he said. "I'm the same size as before." He gestured towards the table. "Shall we stay or have a little walk in the park instead?"
"Actually, I think it's too damp for both. I'd love to change into something more comfortable."
"Well, you don't live too far from here. I wouldn't mind walking over. Afterwards, we can see what we can do."
"Great idea," she replied with a nod. They fell into an easy step as they started walking down the road. He still held her hand, or maybe it was more her holding his; there was something comforting in feeling his warm flesh, as if it was the final proof that all her former shipmates had come back alive. The vision of an almost crash-landing Bird of Prey still haunted her dreams once in a while.
"I'm really glad to see you," she said.
"That's my line." He smiled and squeezed her hand. "You're looking good."
"Thanks. Though I didn't have a good time exactly."
"I can imagine that. First Spock's death, and then our little trip to Genesis..." He let the planet's name linger.
"And then Vulcan. And back saving the Earth."
"All in a day's work."
"It took you months to get back."
"Spock needed the time," he said simply.
"And you?"
He maneuvered her through a group of tourists without releasing his grip. "It took some time to repair the ship."
"I was speaking about you, Len. How you are doing?"
"Is that the question of a friend, or of a fellow medical officer?"
She thought about it. "Both, I guess."
"Set aside those moments where I do funny things I can't quite remember why or how later, I'm quite alright."
"Funny things?"
"Like trying a Vulcan nerve grip."
She laughed. "Did it work?"
He shook his head. "Sadly, no. It would come in handy, once in a while."
Suddenly, she didn't feel like going home at all. "Hey, let's go down this road." She nudged him around a corner into a little street.
"Change of plan?" he asked, one eyebrow rising.
"Yes." Now it was her leading the way, down and along a slope to a small café near a little canal. She gestured him to take a seat at the last free table.
"I'll be back in a minute," she said. He gave her a strange look, but sat down. She vanished into the café and returned in a dress ten minutes later. Her shoes didn't really fit to it, but his eyes widened in appreciation anyway.
"I'm impressed," he said. "Are they selling clothes at the bars now?"
"No, I had forgotten it here a while ago." She rotated a little, which made the hem swing.
"Forgotten?" There was the trademark brow again.
"It's not what you think," she said. "I'd been shopping with a friend lately and forgot the parcel here."
He didn't press for details. They had a few deals between them, and one was that they didn't speak of lovers, past or present. And while her friend didn't really fall among that category, it was a little bit complicated...
Resolutely she put down the bag with her other clothes and sat down opposite to him.
"Their ice cream is highly recommendable."
"Sounds good," he said. "Didn't have ice cream in a while." They ordered two portions and espressos to go with it.
"How was Vulcan?" she asked.
He made a face. "Hot."
She understood a hint when she got one and switched themes, chatting about ops. But it didn't take long before the latest adventure of the Enterprise crew came up again.
"I'm sorry," she said with a sigh. "There wasn't anything else as remarkable as that."
"I know," he replied. "Let's hope we're soon through with the trial and can move on to the interstellar coal miner."
"There aren't any coal miners in space."
"They might well build one for us, powered by the Klingon High Command."
She couldn't help laughing. "I'm glad that you didn't change at all. I wasn't sure what to expect."
He shrugged. "What did you expect? Pointed ears? My saying 'it's fascinating' half the time?"
"I don't know. But if I didn't know the story, I would've never guessed."
"Thank you," he said flatly. "May I cite you in my next hearing before the medical board? Might get my license back after all."
"They took away your license?" she asked, with a little guilty conscience. She hadn't known, but she could have looked it up.
"First taken into custody with the suspicion of schizophrenia, then stolen a starship, controlled by an alien mind that was finally removed in an archaic ritual…now, what do you think that will do to my sanity?"
"Your sanity seems perfectly alright," Chris said. "But I can see it's not big in a CV."
"Especially since I really was a little insane at times."
She nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."
He drowned his coffee. "Let's call it a day."
She paid their bill and he took her bag as they walked to her apartment house.
He removed the sunglasses as they walked into the building towards the lift. There were some new wrinkles in his face, but not as many as she would have expected from Vulcan's burning sun. Despite the relaxed afternoon, there was a slight tension in his features.
The lift arrived, and she stepped into it. He put a hand on the frame. "Chris –"
"You're coming up for a coffee?" she cut off his upcoming words of good-bye, unwilling to just let him go his way.
"A coffee?"
"Or anything else." She placed her foot between the automatic doors.
One of the best things about Len was that he was never intimidating, never forcing his way. It made offering things so much easier. The perfect part-time lover, as long as you didn't want anything more…and they both didn't.
After a moment of thought, he nodded. "Coffee would be fine," he said and entered the lift. She wasn't sure if that was a no to the 'anything else' part, but didn't care. That was the good thing about old friends too, she thought as they moved upwards. It was never complicated.
*
It turned out she had been right in her assessment. Of it being uncomplicated, that was. There had been coffee and a comfortable couch, and everything else had just moved on from there, ending in her bedroom. He hadn't forgotten what she liked best, and reacted to everything she did just in the way she expected. The stay on Vulcan had made his muscles a little stronger, and she liked the feel of it when she closed her hand around his arms and shoulders. It felt so good, so needed...damn, she hadn't known she'd been so starved and tense from all that had happened over the last months.
"Told you you should have more sex," McCoy said with a lazy grin as he rolled away from her in the end, as if he had been able to read her mind. "Doctor's orders."
"I couldn't, really," she admitted.
He nodded, a serious expression shadowing his face. "I'm sorry that we couldn't inform you in person. That I couldn't tell you."
She shrugged. "I don't see how you could've managed," she said. "How about something to drink?"
"The coffee, at last?" he asked amused.
"Sure."
They went into the kitchen together without donning any clothes. Her coffee machine was absolute standard and he figured it out in a second. She got two cups from the shelf and then, having nothing else to do, she watered the eternally neglected plant that stood on her window sill.
"Don't you wanna know anything about him?" he asked out of the blue.
"About who?"
He rotated towards her. "About Spock! Everyone's asking me about Spock, sooner or later. And you, of all persons, should've asked in the very first second."
"I've read the news," she said lamely. Actually, she had inhaled everything she could find about Spock, be it news, gossip or Fleet reports, only to be annoyed with herself for that foolish behavior afterwards.
"You don't have to pretend you don't care. I know better." He poked her shoulder. "You still love him."
"I don't. And it's none of your business anyway."
"He might change his mind one day. Realize what he's about to miss out."
"What didn't you get about the 'not your business' line?" she asked, annoyed.
"Maybe it's a bit of my business by now," he said.
"Because you –" Realization dawned her. "How much do you know?"
He turned away, suddenly very interested in her coffee machine. The brew was ready, and he filled the steaming liquid into their cups.
"Tell me. Please."
He shed a glance at her. "It's hard to say. It's not as if I can put anything in words. I'm rather sure that there's something inside of him caring about you, but it might be just as buried in him as it is in you."
"He saw to that," she said with a deep frown. "And I'm over him, for years. How dare you bring it up. I thought we had a deal."
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry. Sometimes things come up that I should rather forget."
"I don't care what's in your mind, but I care what you say. And that part was always purely Leonard McCoy, to the core."
He raised his hands in a gestured plea. "Guilty as charged. I won't drop a word about it in the future." His forefinger drew a line of an invisible zipper in front of his lips.
"Good thing." She relented as she saw him being genuinely sorry, and drew a little closer, fishing for her cup of coffee. Their bodies touched, and she examined the current level of response, hers and his. There might be a second round in it - after the coffee.
"The night is still young," he said.
She frowned. "Did you get psychic in your old days?"
"Not that I know of." He took his own cup and walked to her small living area. Ever the observant man, he waited for her to place a towel underneath them before they sat down on her white couch.
"I know, it's a silly habit," she said apologetically.
"I wouldn't want to clean it either." When they were seated, he took the leg closest to him to place it over his. She stretched the freely-hanging foot, noticing that the painted nails looked a bit chipped. He stroked her knee.
"I don't particularly care for painted nails," he said.
"But I do," she replied.
"There are more interesting things to a woman than her toe nails."
"Like what?"
"Like...that." His free hand drifted upwards along the inner side of her thigh. Yes, definitely another round, which was fine by her. Once their cups were empty, they returned to the bedroom to make love again, a lot slower and more relaxed than the first time. There was something to be said for a surgeon's hands, at least in McCoy's case – surprisingly, Chapel had found most of her other colleagues lacking in that area.
"They ain't used to touching the living," he murmured in her ear as he kept her trembling body close to orgasm. But she was too far gone to care that he uncannily had read her thoughts again. He took his sweet time to satisfy her, which made the highlight all the more ecstatic. She returned the pleasure by going down on him. Definitely more muscles, yes, though she didn't know how he managed to hide them. Her hands clamped in his upper thighs, she expertly kept him on the edge for a while, before he muttered a complaint about his blue balls. It made her smile inwardly; it made her also kick him over the edge.
Afterwards, he looked rather exhausted. She left him for a moment to refresh herself.
"Was I that good?" she asked with a laugh when she returned. He didn't seem to have moved a muscle.
He cracked an eye. "I'm not used to that sport anymore." He yawned heartily.
"You can stay for the night, if you want to." It wasn't something she usually offered – and he hadn't ever taken her up on it either - but tonight it felt right.
"Do you think you can bear me in the morning?" he murmured.
"I could – if you could, too. My hair looks terrible after sleeping on it."
A smile stretched his lips. "I don't care about that either."
"And I thought you liked long hair." She lay down at his side, putting her head on his shoulder.
"Oh, I love it." He proved it by combing through her strands. "But I don't mind if it's disheveled or anything." His fingertips glided along her chin. "You're wonderful, Chris. Thanks for the great day. I needed it." He pulled her into a kiss.
"For king and country," she murmured with a lazy smile, bringing up an old joke that came down from their very first night together. Then she pulled the thin sheet over them and switched off the lights.
"For king and country," he whispered and spooned her. She clasped his hand as it rested on her stomach, musing about the astonishingly comforting touch before drifting into sleep.
***
And it looks as if I need to teach my newest customer that it is no good idea to call before 10 on any morning...*yawns*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-18 01:20 pm (UTC)I really liked this story. Thanks a lot!
The hints about Spock's feelings and the mention of Len's new power/ability are great.
^_^
Do you want me to curse your customer? Phoning before 10... sheesh!!
I trained my own mozher not to phone before noon!
*hugs*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-18 08:18 pm (UTC)Thanks for the feedback! :)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-18 11:40 pm (UTC)But there was someone asking to be cursed... o.O
Surprising pairing. Delicious plot. ^_^
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-18 09:47 pm (UTC)My favourite part is just the comfortable way they deal with each other and the question of sex but I also like how Bones was influenced by Spock's stay... if I were Chapel, I'd definitely be vaguely creeped out ;-)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-19 09:05 pm (UTC)But actually you should read Djinn's Spock/Chapel story at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML/message/103636 which has inspired my own story :))
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-19 10:38 pm (UTC)Yay sequel :) I was actually a bit surprised by how casually she accepted it in your story. Though I guess the whole telepathy thing is rather more common in the 23rd century (what with the Vulcans, the Deltans, and even the random Human like Miranda) plus I guess she's had her share of fantasies about a man who literally reads her mind in bed *giggle*