Joint Log | Capt Ivanova, Capt Neyes - "Under the Stars" pt. IV/IV

Posted on Tue Jan 6th, 2015 @ 8:35am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Captain Landon Neyes

2,604 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill
Location: Observation Lounge

The lids of Rochelle's eyes had long since closed to allow for her other senses to come alive; she didn't need them in order to find the cloth of Landon's shirt. The sensitive tips of her fingers simply spanned down the well-muscled expanse of his shoulders and along either side of his spine until they found the hem and worked to retrace their steps with the gathering of fabric in tow. Rochelle knew if she dared to open her eyes there'd be nothing more than the dapple of starlight basking through the observation lounge windows to cover what she'd chosen to reveal. Open them, though, and she feared she would incinerate altogether.

They shared so much in youth, the knowledge of command's burdens, love for each other, and fear of loss. When he felt her pull on his shirt something inside him simply switched off. There was no place for the future in this moment, and he allowed himself to simply surrender to her. Allowing her to pull off his shirt one arm at a time, his exposed chest and abdomen became framed by the heavy trails of spots along each of his sides as the meandered down to disappear beneath the waist of his pants.

Landon shrugged, "You're the Captain." He teased, moving in for another kiss. His movements were becoming more tense and passionate; his hands and forearms flexing with urgency. This was a battle they would have eventually lost, and they both knew it as he pushed a hand under her back, and another behind her head, running his fingers within her tossed red locks.

He could feel the dam beginning to crack. His breathing was heavier, and every touch of her skin against him lit his nerves on fire.

“Not right now, I’m not…” Rochelle managed in a raw, husky pant of breath before their lips met again. Ranks could be damned, cursed and forgotten – the Captain was gone and all that remained was the woman, one who had known loss and the blessings that came with resurrection.

"Computer, seal the room." He managed. The sound of security locks falling into place could be heard at all entrances to the lounge.

She couldn't stop touching him. Time ticked away in virtual silence; leaving only the sounds of cloth being stripped away and the occasional sigh of skin against pillow case as they worked towards freedom. In so many ways it was stupid and juvenile, the fumbling over a clasp and shaky hands on a belt – but that was what made it beautiful and real. They’d spent the better part of their careers together copping only the mildest of feels from time to time; a guiding hand at the small of her back from him, the brushing of knuckles against his from her. Now, she told herself she was treating him with courtly regard, and if her fingers had happened to linger a bit longer than they should have against the heated curve of his back, so be it. It was about exploration, however dangerous it may be.

Landon had been returned for reasons that still eluded her, but she’d never second guess them or do anything but meet them with sincere gratitude. Not now, especially, not when bliss was as close as a heartbeat away – not now when she was pressed so tenderly against him, her back arching up and away from the familiar chill of his hands to press her tender belly to the warmth of his. Not when she, they, were poised so perfectly on the verge of burning.

She knew what she should say to him. She knew the three words any woman worth her merit and her head screwed on straight would tell her at that moment. She’d said them before, but always with some sort of explanation wrapped around it, choking away the meaning from them. But they stuck in her throat, unsaid. She’d spoken them to her Academy lover, back when she didn't even have a clue what they meant. To William once, in the throes of passion – and she hadn't understand what it was that time, either.

To utter the words now to Landon right then, right now – she couldn't. It seemed meaningless. Love was just four letters strung together in monosyllabic inadequacy. It couldn't capture all that he was to her. Not even close, and certain not there where he could misinterpret her meaning, misapply the phrase to some convenient dictate of the male psyche, where ‘I love you’ and ‘sleep with me’ too often meant the same thing – not that she thought that’s what he’d take it as. No. He could never. Not someone as practiced and gentle with her as he was. Not someone so uniquely jaded and innocent at the same time.

You are my soul, she thought, and, now when there was nothing left between them, her eyes finally opened to take in the sight of him poised above her. They were both so vulnerable and careless, but that only added to the beauty she found in him. The stormy, primal darkness that had settled in his eyes said it all, eased the troubled worries that dared to linger as she lay bare before him and him before her. The corner of her mouth twitched in a breathless, silly smile. It was one of sheepish confession to her concerns, to her own lack of self-esteem. It was foolish, youthful exuberance that still held fast and was so very unbecoming of a Captain. Rochelle shifted her position beneath him, her thighs parting to cradle the weight of his hips.

It took no small ounce of courage mustered up for her to reach for him, cradling his face between her small, capable hands, drawing him down to her. Her lips moved lightly over his, speaking silent words of passion with each gentle kiss. Tenderness quickly gave way to a raw edge, she moved hands down across his shoulders and along his sides – tracing muscle, spot, and bone – until finally her palms curled over his hips and the round of his rear. “With you, I see stars, regardless.” She murmured against his ear.

The words drifted into his ear, barely a whisper beneath the heat of her breath. They spun around in his head amid other fading thoughts. He managed to respond in the only way he could now, by pressing her against him even more feverishly. This was beyond words for him, and there was little he wanted to speak about their love he hadn't already tried to convey. She was his everything now, and standing on the sidelines to wait patiently for his life to blossom wasn't on the table. As his fingers ran against her, his bare skin and half-worn uniform grazing her silken figure, all the faculty he had to respond with was to bring her in closer with an almost desperate need.

They had held each other at arms length, while smiling about it for too long. He wouldn't do it anymore.

Landon wanted her, and now he needed to make it clear. Each second ticked by and the urgency increased. The more he thought, the less he cared about the ship, the world, and filling those voids was just Rochelle. She became the focus of his attention. His senses, Sight, sound, touch, taste, and elegant scent could only detect her. For a brief moment he experienced an almost placid serenity overcome him and the room fell away. The place they laid was no longer on board a ship, but replaced with an empty, careless space to which they were the only two welcome. To him they occupied only each other, and his senses shut out everything else. He wanted to know only her, and need only her. To forget his lives and losses, to spill into a life where his only knowledge or concern regarded her well-being.

An idle tear rolled down his jaw. For an instant he wasn't anything except her's. For an instant, he was happy.

Under heavy breath, and through a happy smile he muttered a few sentences in Trill, rolling over to position her over him.

Whatever he’d whispered, it didn’t matter. Not because what he said lacked merit, but because she hadn’t managed to catch it. For the second time that night he moved her, this time while she reached to steal away his tear with the pad of her thumb. The rest of her body being forced to re-balance itself and the strength of a bare thigh flexed, pressing a knee to the blanket below as she was swung back into the proverbial saddle of his hips.

Rochelle’s breath caught in surprise as her core engaged to keep her upright and the flutter of her freed hair slipped and fell over her shoulders, draping over the porcelain and coral of her skin and curling to an end somewhere near her hips in two silken shrouds of burning copper. It was as if the fates had the foresight to grant her just a shroud of mystery, a stitch of modesty. A tiny palm pressed against his dappled belly in offer of support, the heel of it grazing the upper hem of his slacks. A stark reminder that in their game of tug of war, she’d only succeeded in freeing him from shirt and belt.

Rocking her weight backwards, using the start of his thighs as a seat, she undid the top catch of his pants, the standard, rough fabric dragged along her skin as she moved to tug them down off his hips. She didn’t dare look anywhere but his eyes, admiring the way they seemed to glitter in the silver of the starlight beyond them. It shivered, not unlike she did in this new and foreign vulnerability, in a promise of tomorrow – that they’d wake and touch the dawn of a new era. It would be one she’d never dreamt possible, and yet tomorrow didn't seem to matter beyond the fact that they’d greet it together.

Together, she thought, savoring the word and tasting the bittersweet tang of it as his zipper grumbled its last feeble protest. They’d always managed to find a way through everything together. The flex of her thighs, shifted rise of her hips, another tug and his slacks thread along his knees, forcing her to lean back and blindly slide them the rest of the way down along his lanky legs. That last shred of a shield, the final cloth that barred him from her, was gone. Settling back, Rochelle nearly quailed beneath the final roar of her most practical considerations – beyond this, there was no going back. No salvation. No chance of simply shirking away the desire and responsibilities that came with the leap of faith they were about to take. She could run, order a site to site and disappear like a ghost to forget what had already transpired. She could tell him she was sorry, that she wasn’t ready – though they’d both know that was an out and out lie – and convince herself that she didn’t need him. Another lie. If she hadn’t exploded into his life two years ago, either one or both of them would have been dead by now. Her head tilted slightly, the soft fire of her mane looping and feathering to the right as she did, and lifted her hands to his face again. Her fingers traced the dark, stubbled path of his jaw and the fullness of his lower lip. They were stronger than that. Stronger than even Tr’Bak and the regrets that they each shared.

She couldn’t bear to watch them torment him, either. In the end, it was why she’d simply refused to walk away when she’d had the chances for other Starfleet callings, when he’d ‘died’, when he’d come back to reveal himself to her. No matter how the Romulans and regrets battered him, no matter what they took from him, no matter how they humiliated and tortured and manipulated him, Landon still dared to stand in the middle of the storm and curse the lightning. In her mind, he was either the craziest son of a bitch to ever live – or the noblest.

Hell, maybe he was both.

If she’d stopped for a moment, to really think about it, they’d been cut from the same cloth; undeterred and defiant against the odds that raged against them. All she knew was that her whole life had been spent looking for something worth devoting herself to. Something that could engage her on every level. She’d joined Starfleet hoping to make a difference. She’d chosen to be a tactician, hoping to find that passion. But not until she met Landon and found herself swept up into the grandeur of his folly had she discovered her destiny.

And now? Now she knew there was no going back, no denying herself – them – the one thing they knew in their hearts they simply couldn’t escape. Guided by starlight, Rochelle resumed her gentle touch, bending to kiss the center of his chest. Beneath her lips she could feel the strong beating of his heart, mimicking her own as it thrummed on and her actions made his ever-cold hands glide lightly over her bare back, sending hot shudders through her.

It was her greatest leap of faith, her greatest endeavor – the choice had been hers, he’d given her that freedom in the palms of his hands… and she took it, accepted him, accepted their future and threw herself over the edge of reckless, wonderful abandon, finally together... Finally his in every meaning of the word.

Stars. Snow. Hot. Cold. It all blended and merged and blissfully erupted into what she could only describe as fireworks that scored across the hurt and the pain of loss and replaced it with something new, something real and visceral. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t keep her eyes open – their lashes fluttered tightly shut as her lips parted in a breathless sort of sigh – the soundless mouthing of his name.

Between them, just above her shaking palm as it pressed and curled her nails against his chest, the blue mark of pair-bonding – the one she had spent countless hours scrubbing raw and carefully concealing with leather bands, the one she’d bore to him the night before Hell broke loose on Notura – slowly faded into oblivion, erased by shadow and starshine… Erased by the very act of their free fall into the future.

Landon's world collapsed further as Rochelle bared them both to only the sheets, pillows and the stars. Involuntarily he took in a heavy breath, willingly becoming vulnerable and wanting it all that much more. With literally nothing between them any longer, there was nothing left except their love for each other. Neither of them knew what the future held. All Neyes could see was the future he could only have dreamed of, and she was standing at the forefront of all of it.

A faint tingling at the back of his neck, just behind the left ear, then nothing except Rochelle. Only the silence of the shattered starscape accompanied them, falling into a backdrop for their private galaxy. No ship, no crew, no governments or crowns. Just love, and each other.

=/\= END LOG =/\=

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS Vindicator

Captain Landon Neyes
Former CO / Unassigned
USS Vindicator

 

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