I feel your body doin' overtime & I get shy in these lights

Posted on 23 Oct 2017 @ 7:23pm by Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant & Rear Admiral Lirha Saalm & Lieutenant JG Gideon Nicols PhD & Nesh Saalm

3,859 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Earth - San Francisco
Timeline: MD 16, 1255 hours

Previously, on Star Trek: Galileo, "Art Appreciation, and some stuff in a gallery"…

Pursing his lips, Lake shook his head emphatically, but kept his dark eyes locked on Gideon. "Strangers can never disappoint," he said, "that's what family is for." Rolling his shoulders back, Lake shrugged off his jacket and folded it over his left arm. "Am I to understand," he asked, without missing a beat, "You've spent your entire career learning to make the earth move?"

Those dark eyes bore into him, and Gideon knew he couldn't look away even if he wanted to. "I'm glad I don't disappoint," he said, his tone now quite low. He watched as the other man shrugged off the jacket, watching the different muscles of the man's chest, arms, and shoulders tighten and loosen. "As for your question, I have and I'm damn good at it."

Nesh's draw dropped open at the sight before her. Then she shut it again with a click, and swallowed to be sure she wasn't drooling. She had to get these two adonises...adonii? - What ever the word was humans used for god-like men who needed to have their abs sculpted in marble - out of here because she had no intention of sharing that heavenly vision with anyone else. "The gallery takes its earthquake prevention very seriously, maybe we should adjorn to somewhere we can all work on our...disciplines... in private?"

Lake rocked on his feet as he heard Nesh's suggestion and took it in. Then, he waved down the nearest server and took the first glass he could reach on the server's tray. At a glance, he thought it looked like an Old Fashioned. After considering the glass, he considered the peculiar pair before him with an appraising look across his eyes. "My mother always taught me to never follow strangers..." he said, "while sober."

Gideon chuckled. "I suppose, we won't be strangers for very long," he said as he gave the other man an appreciative once over. He looked between Nesh and Lake. "Let's go."

And now the continuation…

[ON]

Their arms interlinked at the elbow, the threesome tore down the sidewalk at the speed of a break-neck sprint. Lake ir-Llantrisant was had taken the lead (in more ways than one) in their latest exploration. Previously, he had discovered the Tennessee Tavern in his exploration of the city and that was exactly where he had taken his new friends from the art gallery. He wanted them to experience the Eastern European grub and the cocktail menu as long as his arm; not to mention he wanted to experience it again too.

Running out of the tavern, this night's new world / new civilization was life modeling. Not only was he shirtless in the pleasant warmth of the night, but the top button of his pants had come undone somewhere along the way as well. More literally, Lake had taken the lead as they ran, practically dragging Nesh Saalm and Gideon Nicols by the arms behind him.

Coming to a halt, Lake said, “Oh wait,” with all the gravitas of a warning light on a warp core. A heartbeat later, his cadence switched to a conversational lilt, when he said, “Where are we? I don’t think I know where we're headed."

"The Castro," Nesh told him. "And we're going to my place, well, a friend's place. He has a studio." She steered the two men around the corner. "Not far now, down the street, facing onto the park."

Gideon had been quite familiar with the Castro, anytime he was on earth--which was rare--he inevitably ended up in the district. He would visit the bars, the clubs, the cafes, the places to have brunch. The Castro had changed a lot over the centuries, but it still remained a place where art, culture, and the LGBTQ+ community came together. He looked at Nesh and Lake, and though he hesitated to do this before, he certainly was ready to do this now.

They reached the house Nesh was staying at and she herded her two muses up the two flights of stairs to the loft. The room featured sky lights and the wall facing the park was floor to ceiling windows. It was clearly a working studio with a rack of canvases in on corner and several easels folded against another wall. There was also a small podium, perhaps half a metre high, in the centre of the loft. A small kitchenette was at the back and Nesh raided it for more drinks. "Make yourselves comfortable. I'll get my drawing stuff in a minute."

Down on one knee, Lake's movements were measured, almost methodical, as he loosened the straps on one of his boots and then the other. He was slowed even more by his frequent gazes across the scope of the loft, his eyes readily drawn to those massive windows. "Your friend has exquisite taste," Lake said to Nesh, speaking in the direction of the kitchenette. Stepping out of his boots, Lake's eyes found Gideon again. To the kitchenette, he continued, "As, evidently, do you."

Gideon found himself smiling. He still found it baffling that he went from innocently looking at art, to stripping down in front of two complete strangers to pose nude for. He shrugged off his suit coat and draped it over the back of a chair. He kicked off his slipons and pulled his pale pink button down from the confines of his suit trousers. He kept his gaze on Lake and nimbly unbutton each button, revealing his broad, muscular chest and washboard stomach. He shrugged off the shirt and placed it over the suit coat. His pink and gray argyle socks came off next and he tucked those into his dress shoes.

Stepping out of his trousers, Lake abandoned them on the floor beside his boots and tunic. In only his underwear, Lake's athletically compact form padded across the loft. His dark eyes were wide, so entranced was he by the floor to ceiling windows. This kind of opulence --the idea of form being as important as function-- remained relatively new to him. He had only known this kind of lifestyle since joining Starfleet, not once before that. Reaching out, Lake pressed his palm against the cool glass of the window. He tilted his head to speak back over his shoulders, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the view out the window. "What are your media of choice?" Lake asked. "Charcoal? Water colours? Pencil crayon?"

Look at the eyes, look at the eyes, look at the eyes. Nesh brought three glasses of Romulan ale over and handed the round, careful to not look like she was perving over their near naked forms as she was desperate to do. "For sketching? I prefer pastel pencils. But I like pretty much everything. It depends on the mood and the subject matter."

Turning towards Nesh, Lake accepted the tumbler in his right hand. Like Nesh, his eyes felt drawn to Gideon's natural form as if he were a planet in the taller man's orbit. "Your subject matter today happens to be a Human and Romulan," Lake said. He raised his glass of Romulan ale and popped a questioning eyebrow at Nesh as if to say, Racist much? in good humour. What he literally asked was, "Have you met many Romulans? Either of you?"

"I can't say that I have," Gideon replied. He undid his belt, unbuttoned and pulled the zip down of his suit trousers and stepped out of them. He stood there clad in only a pair of royal blue trunk briefs. He thought for sure he would feel self-conscious, but it really didn't phase him. He laid the trousers over the back of the chair as well. "Or at least none that I know of." He took the tumbler from Nesh in his left hand and sipped the Romulan ale. This wasn't his first foray into drinking the electric blue alcoholic beverage, but it was still quite a treat to be able to indulge.

Pursing his lips, Lake set his tumbler down on a side table. With his hands free, he hooked a thumb in the waistband of his underwear. "None that you know of," Lake said. Only, when he repeated Gideon's words, he separated them with a staccato rhythm. Narrowing his eyes on the taller man, he asked, "Tell me more about what you mean by that."

Gideon looked to the other man, curious by the way he repeated the words. It was well documented that Romulans had altered their appearance to infiltrate the Federation. Though humans did the same thing, many species did the same thing--this was not a new form of espionage, certainly, Lake knew this. This was common practice. Not to mention, there were Vulcan/Romulan hybrids, human/Romulan hybrids, etc. etc. None of this was new information, and it was really up until fairly recently that most Romulan hybrids had to keep their heritage quiet. "I didn't mean anything by it," he replied simply, a hint of confusion could be heard in his voice.

Staring at that confusion in Gideon's eyes, Lake had no way to know that all of the thoughts of espionage running through Gideon's head were exactly the same thoughts Lake has implicitly accused Gideon of thinking. The chip on Lake's shoulder when it came to Federation distrust of the Romulan government --of the Romulan people-- was gaping and sharp-edged. He raised his tumbler to his lips, and drained half the Romulan ale from it.

"There was several Romulans on Galileo at one time or another," Nesh said, holding her drink in one hand and rolling the crate of her own art supplies across to the small couch in front of the podium. "Mostly they were hybrids. Scientists. We've ferried a couple of diplomats from point A to point B too."

When his interest was piqued, Lake's body weight shifted, moving slightly in Nesh's direction. He sipped at his ale. "Galileo?" he asked. "Is Galileo the ship that nearly entombed you in an officer's life?"

"The Infamous Galileo." Nesh confirmed, pulling out a large drawing pad with a variety of different neutral shades of drawing paper and a roll of pencils, then curled herself up on the end of the couch, pad resting on her knees. "You've heard of it?"

Nodding slowly, Lake met Nesh's eyes and he said, "I've heard a tale or two." He sipped at his ale and waited expectantly for how it would burn. When the feeling passed, he looked over to Gideon and offered a small smile. He raised an open palm in the other man's direction. "Where would you like us?" he asked of Nesh.

In my bed. Nesh thought wickedly, but pointed to the podium. "Up there will be fine. To start with I like to do a little warm up." She held up a small sphere, and began to fiddle with it. "This alarm will go off at random in anywhere between one and five minute intervals. When the alarm rings, you change position. It helps me to loosen up my strokes, makes for better drawing when I start doing stuff in detail."

Gideon put the tumbler to his lips and downed the rest of his drink and set the glass down. Then steeling his courage, he pushed down his underpants and put them with his other clothing. He stepped up to where Nesh had pointed and just nodded to what she had said. It all certainly made sense to him. He wanted to bring up the fact that he was assigned to the Galileo but he felt that conversation had passed and now they were moving on.

As if through a distorted mirror of pointed ears, Lake's body reflected Gideon's movements. First, he finished his drink; second, he put his glass down, not as gently; thirdly, he dropped trou, revealing his member; finally, he strut up onto the podium. Lake didn't pose, not immediately. He let his arms hang by his side, and allowed one leg to trail the other. Lake stood close enough to Gideon he could smell his skin. Swaying from side to side, Lake made no effort to hide the way he studied Gideon like a laboratory specimen, observing him from different angles.

"You don't say much," said Lake, perhaps too directly. He was making reference to Gideon's silent climb of the podium, and his earlier terse replies to the questions asked. Explaining himself, Lake said, "Back at the museum, you seemed nervous, but you were polite. You appeared to speak your mind. Something's changed."

Gideon found himself flinching at the statement. He felt Lake's gaze on him like he was boring into him, trying to dig as deep as possible into his being. But why? Something's changed? But what? "Actually, you are right, I don't say much... I normally never do," he replied. He turned his gaze onto Lake and then it swept to Nesh and then back to Lake. "I'm not sure what you even want me to say? Is it because I stayed silent while you two talked about Galileo, which incidentally is my new assignment--whenever that happens. Or was it because you thought I was being racially insensitive? I know neither of you doesn't know me very well, and that is fine, but when I say something I mean it. There is no hidden agenda or lies, or ill-will, or malice behind it."

He sighed, he had never raised his voice, his tone was his normal tone even. "Do you think..." his tone now went from his normal speaking voice to something much softer, "... if I was racially insensitive to you that I would be standing here with you--in the buff mind you, admiring you, admiring your personality, your good looks?" This time it was his own gaze that studied Lake. "Do you think..." his tone dropped even more, "that if I was racially insensitive that I would find myself attracted to you, thinking not so innocent things about you? Wanting to touch you, to feel those lips against my own..." He stopped, he all of a sudden felt warm, and the tips of his ears became a fiery red.

Nesh's pencil moved furiously, catching the tense straight lines of the two men first, their caution, and reserve. Gods, Ancestors and the Spirits of the Damned, they were gorgeous, in opposite, complementary ways. It was like every birthday come at once. And then Gideon's open admission of lust stopped her breath in her chest. The big manly chunk of virility was into his competition. She hadn't seen that coming. The universe was cruel.

Well. She was an artist. An Artists were all about the observing. Artists like to Watch. She liked to watch.

The bell on her alarm rang, splitting the air with its high pitched mechanical ring.

To look at him, Lake ir-Llantrisant paid no attention to the ringing of the bell. His dark eyes stayed with the entreating man, standing right before him. From the look on his face, it wasn't clear what he was thinking, until: "I'm here, Gideon," Lake said. He reached out with the pads of two fingertips and touched Gideon's shoulder, and then he dragged his fingers down the side of his arm. "I'm right here," Lake said.

Gideon let go of a slow, shaky breath as he felt the two fingertips touch his warm flesh. The hair on his arms stood at attention and the muscles that had tensed just moments earlier had relaxed. He thought for sure his little admission would have gotten him, well... he wasn't entirely sure, but he for sure thought it wouldn't be favorable. After his admission, he wanted to flee, he was embarrassed, and angry at himself for losing control. He didn't do things like that, he was normally a quiet, contemplative, and reserved man. Yet he was still here, and Lake was in front of him.

One corner of his mouth lifted as he kept his gaze locked with the other man's. The world seemed to slow down now, and the only sounds were the breaths they were taking, the beating of their hearts, and the scratches of the pencil against paper. "Thank you," he whispered, as he reached up with his right hand and laid it flat against Lake's pectoral.

His face flushing verdant, Lake shifted his body closer to Gideon. At Gideon's touch, Lake was overcome with a giddy feeling, almost like vertigo but far more pleasurable. The sensation was not unlike intoxication, but he was well aware of his own biological functions, and he hadn't had nearly enough alcohol to feel this way. Of course, there was an Orion in the room, and his neurological training had taught him how there was a special something in the air when Orions were around.

Lake made no effort to hide the flush in his cheeks. Rather he tilted his head back to stand nose-to-nose to Gideon. He raised his left hand to stroke the side of Gideon's face, tracing that protruding jawline with his fingers. Although Lake tilted his head to point his lips at Nesh, he kept his eyes trained on Gideon's visage. "Where should we stand next?" Lake asked, vaguely remembering that the bell had rung.

Nesh's heart was beating fast, her eyes darting feverishly between the tableau of yearning so obvious and desperate it must physically hurt, to the paper on which she was trying to capture it. The intensity the two men were looking at each other would probably have vaporised her if she got between them, and the sheer eroticism coming off was giving her trouble breathing. "Anywhere you like. Just don't move!"

For the most part, Lake stayed put where he was. His body held close to Gideon, his hand mid-caress on the side of Gideon's face. However, to create a greater difference from the last pose, he balanced himself on his left foot and raised his right foot behind him, bending at the knee. To Gideon, Lake asked, "You don't have a romantic partner for whom this would appear problematic?"

Gideon gave only a slight shake to his head. "I am not with anyone currently," he said softly. He wrapped his arms around the other man to hold him as close as possible. He placed one hand on the small of Lake's back and the other he placed between his shoulder blades. He supported Lake's weight against him. He tilted his head as if to lean into a kiss but left barely an inch between their lips. "What about you? Do you have anyone," he whispered.

To look at Lake, as Nesh was undoubtedly doing, the Romulan's physicality responded with compliance to the way Gideon moved. Although compactly athletic in his own right, Lake's body appeared lithe and pliable in Gideon's muscular embrace. To look at him, Lake made no effort to close the distance between himself and Gideon; he simply allowed it to happen. However, to listen to Lake's body, one could notice the satisfied sigh that escaped him when their bodies pressed together, and the frustrated grunt when Gideon didn't kiss him.

"I did," Lake said, answering the question about his relationship status in the past tense. "I had been courting an instructor at the Academy. I came to Earth just to see him again," Lake said, by way of explanation. "He has decided he doesn't want to see me again."

Gideon's brow furrowed at that and a frown crossed his lips. He hated to hear of such a thing. He didn't know Lake, of course, but no one deserved to be dumped. Though he also couldn't make a snap judgment like that, everyone had a reason for everything really. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, his voice soft and sympathetic. "If it's any consolation, I'm glad you are here." The large hand at the small of Lake's dipped slightly lower and then moved up and down the Romulan's spine.

Feeling the palm of Gideon's hand against his skin, Lake couldn't hold back a smirk. Not just a smile, but a smirk. Certainly, he enjoyed the sensations Gideon's touch brought to him, but Lake couldn't help himself from unbalancing Gideon. "You're not supposed to move so much," he said, "you know."

"Oh right, right... yeah... sorry," Gideon said. He turned to Nesh and gave a sheepish grin as his hands came to a halt and rested gently against the cleft of Lake's buttocks. This whole posing this was still odd to him, standing still he could do, put posing was a whole other ball game. He had wondered how these models and artists did it day in and day out. He had recalled the performance artists he had seen when he had visited New Orleans a few summers back. The performers just stood there, painted up and in costumes, and in the high heat and humidity nonetheless. He had admired them greatly knowing he could never do that. He also recalled spending the night with one of those performance artists... it was quite an amazing time.

Nesh reached out and surreptitiously turned off the alarm. This image was too perfect to lose. It was an image she would no doubtedly store in her fantasies for years, but the artistic beauty was also genuinely breathtaking. It needed to be captured in oils. Hell, she might even learn to carve. Only being immortalised in marble could do this justice, something creamy, with delicate black veins.

She dragged her eyes off something else veined and hard as stone, but anything but cold, and went back to rendering the intensity of it, trying to capture the looks of hunger and yearning that was boiling the air between the two men.

Given the curiosity Gideon's hand had shown to Lake's backside --and assuming Nesh was looking for a greater variety of positions-- Lake took careful steps on the surface of the podium to turn his back to Gideon. Lake firmed up his posture, with his legs shoulder-width apart and his arms folded over his abdomen. Referring back to the condolences Gideon had expressed regarding Lake's late-relationship, Lake remarked, "I don't make a habit of treading where I'm not wanted. Besides... if he had come with me to the gallery, I never would have found my way here with you two..."

Nesh's PADD suddenly chirped in the distance, providing a rude interruption to the young Orion's hedonism. A single message flashed on the screen, a text message from her older sister.

"==WHERE ARE YOU==", it read with absolutely no semblance of subtlety.

To Be Continued...

[OFF]

--

RADM Lirha Saalm
Commanding Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Lake ir-Llantrisant
Chief Counselor
USS Galileo

Nesh Saalm
Artist
[PNPC Derani]

Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Gideon Nicols
Chief Research Officer
USS Galileo

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