Star Trek

After sans'at knows as well as he does-he probably can't imagine that reading is my only pleasure in decades of stale and hopeless life.

Of course, the process in bed is also enjoyable enough. Spock is the absolute perfect bedmate, he knows where to make me shudder and where to crack me up.The Vulcan is strong and powerful, and can easily turn me over and over; when he is gentle, no one can match, and when he is violent, he can push me to the brink of death in an instant-and I love the ravaged and destroyed Pleasure.

Of course, we never kiss.Not in the way of Vulcan or Earth.

I have an odd relationship with Spock.I am not his friend, and I am definitely not just a bed partner. He said that many times personal relationships do not really need to be defined by a certain vocabulary. Indeed, he is addicted to this relationship, and I am also addicted.

As the sole heir to the royal family, Spock doesn't have many friends.Or you can say, no friends.I don't know what his childhood was like, maybe the haze was no less than mine, which made him taciturn and indifferent today.But on this red, disappointing dry planet, I was all his personal property, and at some point he began to tell me.

When I returned to his room that night, he was sitting by the bed, the room was dimly lit, and he was holding a real photo, most of his body was covered by shadows.I knew who it was in the photo without looking, his mother, a human being - same as me.The same race, she is the noble mother of a nation, and I am a humble servant.But it's not annoying, I've seen pictures of the young queen who died young, standing next to the king and holding the young Spock in his arms, beautiful and sad with a faint smile on the corner of his mouth-so typical human beings, so fragile.

"They say my mother is the container."

I sit down next to Spock, my shin touching his, my hand on his lap.He didn't look up, he could always tell if it was me or someone else who was near him.His voice was full of hesitation and uncertainty, mingled with deep pain and self-doubt, and it sounded like a child.

"My father's thoughts are unstable and dangerous, and his human mother is the best match for him. For the sake of the family's blood and heirs, they had to violate the tradition and marry a human. After giving birth to me, my mother... no longer useful."

I know what he wants to say.The human body was too weak to bear the birth of a Vulcan baby, he used up her nutrients, and when he reached the age of seven and could grow up independently of his mother, they abandoned her.

I refuse to admit my pain.It was the same tragic childhood, but Spock had a father, a strict but caring father; he even had a mother, who loved him deeply with his whole life.And I don't, I don't have anyone.My past is all gray clouds and being alone, and my present and future are the same.

But I feel tearing pain for this compatriot's experience.I can't help but imagine how weak and hopeless she was at the end of her life, how helpless and lonely, her blood was undergoing round after round of the royal family's experience, and she was lying in a dim room, Waiting for death to come.

Will she be grieving with all her heart or filled with resentment?Whose hand does she want to hold?Does she have any regrets?When the only candle that accompanied her was extinguished, did she ever regret coming to this world.

57.【Spirk】Salome

THREE

The fact that an individual with impure blood, or even half-inferiority, became the heir to the royal family will never convince all the power levels. Not my half-brother Sybok.Therefore, Sybok is full of hatred for me, of course, I am not completely ignorant.

In fact, Sybok, who is strong, sharp and ambitious enough, is a more suitable successor than me in my secret thoughts that I have never told others.He's a very skilled statesman, and I, frankly, have no interest in power, I'd rather study vast deserts or vast universes.Regrettably, the inextricable branches of interests among the royal family cannot be moved by me alone. I was born to grow up according to the planned route. This is what Jim said, the established destiny.

But I didn't expect him to shift his target to Jim.

Sybok is not only a statesman, but also a real fighter.He is good at riding and shooting, and is good at swordsmanship. If we hadn't entered the era of warp speed, of course he would become the best tribal leader. In the 23rd century he still has some kind of cold weapon, the arrow, which he used to tame the sera and hunt them for food when we were kids, and now he points it at Jim, reading intently by Oslauvoskaf Jim, fragile, defenseless human being.

At that time, I probably understood how the exaggerated description of blood coagulation in the whole body felt in literary works, and it was also the first time that the body took the lead in acting instead of thinking.

I block the damage thrown at him for Jim.

Vulcans' body functions are much superior to those of humans. I thought that I only had to endure short-term physical pain, but I never expected that the cluster of arrows would be poisoned.

In fact, Sybok's intention to murder Jim is not difficult to guess, he wants to use him to threaten me, scare me, hurt me.He thinks he knows what Jim means to me, but he doesn't.

One of the most important hadiths of Nashinahr: A strong fighter is not allowed to have a weak spot.

Sybok thought I was in love with Jim, and love always makes people vulnerable.

But in fact?

The poison and pain are spreading to other parts, and the body becomes heavy.Before I fall I vaguely peep in Jim's direction, and he's running towards me, while behind him, above the red spire of Oslauvoskaf, a flock of birds, disturbed by the commotion, flutter and flutter past.

When I woke up from the coma again, Jim was sleeping next to me, with one hand under his face and the other tightly clutching my wrist.The numbness gradually subsided, and I moved my fingers lightly, and he woke up with a start.

Jim always wakes up easily.His security is so thin that I can't build him more.But the 7.43 seconds when he wakes up is the most defenseless moment of his day, and he blinks his eyes more slowly and bewilderedly than usual until he turns from sleepiness to clarity, drowsiness and armor back on.I will seize this fleeting moment to look at the blue in his eyes, which are clear and soft.

"You're awake." He rubbed his eyes, let go of my wrist (I noticed a circle of blue was stretched out by him), and his voice was still tired, "You've been asleep for a long, long time."

"Indeed." I whispered, "Come here, Jim."

He muttered, stretched himself and stood up, took off his shoes and socks and slowly crawled to my side.He lay on my uninjured side and I took him into my arms.He rolled over on his side next to me, approached me, touched me.Maybe in the past I would have resented other people making such an intimate move towards me. Vulcans are tactile telepaths. Usually we always keep a distance from others. Too frequent physical contact is despicable.But that doesn't apply to the current situation, no rules apply to Jim, he'll always be special.

I don't know why, from his fingers touching my ear, I can see his endless blood and heartbeat like a never-ending drum.

That obviously does not exist.No one's life can last forever.

I don’t know if Sybok was punished and how he was punished, but after this accident, my father actually gave me a long period of rest. I don’t have to study state affairs or participate in politics. I just need to recover my physical and mental health. However, in exchange for equal value, the scope and freedom of travel are also greatly restricted.Now, as Jim said, he was trapped in a prison.

Since I am not a person who prefers to go out, I can also enjoy my father's so-called security measures.On days like this I find something else to do, like meditate or... read.I don't know where Jim found the earth paper books, and how he smuggled them in the suitcase to escape the inspection.But as he is obsessed, the smell of trees and ink is indeed more attractive than cold electronics, and can provide a superior reading experience.

... My heart is still restless, I long for someone who will love me fiercely until death, understand that love is as strong as death, and hold me forever.

This line of words appeared under the touch of my fingers.I meditate in my heart.

"I longed for someone to destroy me, and be destroyed by me—didn't think you'd like Jeanette Winterson. Oranges aren't the only fruit, huh? I thought you'd think she was... well, illogical or something."

It wasn't until Jim walked into the room and picked up the next sentence naturally that I realized that my "Silence" was actually read aloud. "The bibliographic title is, in fact, quite logical. Oranges are certainly not the only fruit. Besides, I don't have a strong preference for authors," I told him.Not having a preference for something in particular is a phrase I've used many times.

"Nonsense, I know you love Surak to death." Jim continued before I could argue, "She said love and death are alike."