Windmills of Your Mind
The bond opened and in came a sequence of images and directions that would have made any red blooded human turn the shade of the engineering uniforms.
The way Christine looked through his eyes: sensuous, bold, caring, human, reserved, capable, intelligent, desirableânever an alternative, he wished she didnât have to be the alternative when he proposed that sexual encounter to both of their advantageâ
The directions: to lie back and tilt her head to the left, now the right; scientists with touch telepathy that can deftly play complicated stringed instruments are truly the holy trifecta of fingering.
Christine let herself do what she was most afraid of--she let herself flow with the current of their bond. Â She could still feel her body, was aware, but on another level she was awash in his memories, and her own; feeling them as real on her skin as his fingers and lips.
She obeyed, for the most part, doing what he said, feeling the effects. Â He knew just what to do by instinct, reading both her body and mind. Â She had experience herself, but this was another level. Â When and when she felt was whole bodied, shivers beginning with her skin and sliding up into her thoughts. Â Warmth spreading over her cheeks and chest and setting her heart a flame.
She feared she would wear out just starting--and had not appreciated his internal chuckle.  But she did begin to understand what he had meant.  As they coupled, she felt every pleasure that washed over him lap at her.  And she was sure it was the same.  But Spock felt everything so acutely, like  a human sensation magnified by years of flame and passion.
It was all she could do, at first, to dig her nails into his shoulders and hold on to him, tossed by waves of pleasure.  Finally she pushed him back, wanting him to instruct her.  And while modesty might have held him for  a moment, she was able to see them; flashes of his private thoughts and wants.  It was more than enough.











