#mestral/maggie

[maybeamultiverse]

Amira's Horrible Gen-Z Star Trek fan fic concept (2022 edition):

TikToker e-girl, who got mildly popular with her college fashion OOTDs and slightly unusually naturally pointed ears, gets an unreadable portion of genetic material from 23andme (like 25%!!!). She decides to investigate her family history (they are from Pennsylvania, at first she assumes there's some kind of strange Amish tomfoolery amok wink wink). She then realizes that her grandfather, a weird dude named Mestral who was a Pennsylvania state pool champion and also a hat maker who always wore hats, like even around his entire family, is actually... an alien?!?! From outer space?!?! Is this the reason why she's good at math and is annoying?!? Maybe 23andme violates their terms and conditions and reports her to the FBI. I have no idea.

Anyway, would anyone read this? It kinda sounds fucking amazing. LMAOOOOOOOO

[raurquiz]

#otd #startrek #enterprise #carboncreek #archer #tpol #triptucker #hoshisato #reed #mayweather #phlox #vulcans #tmir #maggie #mestral #stron #startrek57 @TrekMovie @TrekCore @StarTrek @StarTrekOnPPlus

[deepspacedukat]

Hey! I love your Vulcan content, its all so good! So I got into a car crash the other day and im in a lot of pain right now, can you maybe spare any Vulcan/Human relationship content to distract me? Thanks for reading my ask, have a great day!

Thank you so much for your sweet words, Nonny. Sorry this request took me so long to get out, but hopefully the other Vulcan stories I’ve put out have been able to tide you over in the meantime! 💚 I hope your pain is gone, and that you enjoy this little drabble!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Drizzle

Mestral (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: This is just fluff.]

Warnings: Interspecies relationship, Vulcan/Human relationship, fluff, kissing, cuddling, established relationship, rainy day cuddles.

~*~

Mestral had seen rain many times before while stranded on Earth. Before T’Mir and Stron returned to Vulcan, it seemed unremarkable to him - merely a logical weather phenomenon. As the decades passed, however, he observed many different reactions to precipitation. His first partner, Maggie, had detested rain.

After she passed, Mestral left Carbon Creek and traveled for many years, observing humanity. People scurried for cover when rain came, but whether they complained about its presence or welcomed it depended entirely upon the individual he was observing. He never truly understood why rain should draw an emotional response from people, but it often did.

For example, Mestral found his new partner curled up in an armchair by the window watching the spring shower from the warmth of their living room. She seemed not to hear him walk in, at first. He had already removed his big, rain-soaked coat and left his boots by the door. Her serenity seemed so complete that he almost hated to disrupt it, but after the cold of the rain he dearly desired his love’s embrace. She was warm and she never hesitated to share her body heat with him.

She looked over just as he knelt beside the arm of the chair and rested his chin on the soft fabric. A smile curled her lips, and Mestral was reminded of the same brilliant joy she’d shared with him. Even that first sheepish smile she’d given him when they first met. She’d been dancing in the rain, taking such obvious pleasure in the simple sensation of the precipitation on her skin that she hadn’t noticed him watching her at first.

“I was wondering if you’d get home or if you’d simply be washed away,” she murmured now as his hand rested lightly on her thigh. He knew his adoration was plastered quite obviously on his face. If his wife had been Vulcan instead of Human, he would likely have been chastised for the openness of his expression.

“You realize of course that such an occurrence would be illogical, my wife,” he replied, but she just let out a little laugh. “Ah, I see that the rain has encouraged a pleasant mood.”

“Mmm, yep. Rain like this is beautiful! Besides, it means I get to keep my husband warm this evening,” she said as she ran her fingers through his hair, letting her nails scrape against his scalp the way he enjoyed. Mestral’s eyelids fluttered shut, and he let out a contented sigh. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go to bed.”

Moments later, the two of them were twined in each other’s arms, watching the rain patter gently against the windows from beneath their blankets. Mestral had grown to love rainy days as much as he loved his wife.

[ao3feed-ds9]

Desert rose

https://ift.tt/bmWp7xv by Stargirl1998 When the Vulcans came humanity was weary at first but we soon welcomed them. Oh how wrong we were to trust them. A war began. A war was lost. But if there is one thing the Vulcans should have learned about humans is that we don't give up so easily. Words: 751, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Fandoms: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Enterprise Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Original Female Character(s), Maggie (Star Trek), Mestral (Star Trek), Original Male Character(s), Captain Solok (Star Trek)

[wifeofspock]

Thinkin about Mestral and Maggie this fine Sunday night.

(headcanon that Vorik and Taurik are related to him, cuz his whole personality reminds me of Vorik in an odd way.)

[tomfooleryprime]

196 years before Trip and T’Pol and 269 years before Sarek and Amanda, there was Mestral and Maggie: the original human/Vulcan couple. 

[treksickfic]

👀

“You’re really sick,” she said, a knot of worry tightening in her stomach. She pushed the coffee cup nearer to him. He seemed too tired to even reach for it but she wanted to offer some type of comfort.

“I am feeling unwell, yes.”

"Then you should be home in bed."

"I wished to see you."

At his stark statement, Maggie slid from the booth. It was instinctual, nothing else. A desire to put some space between herself and this man who stirred up so much inside of her. She was falling for him, all right. After she’d promised herself to never make that mistake again. He’d not taken his eyes from her, not once, those dark, serious, unfathomable eyes .

She crossed her arms, uncrossed them, then bunched up the fabric of her apron, worrying it between her hands.

“You’re all by yourself now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

His tone was matter of fact, no emotion underlying his answer. She couldn’t tell if it was a good or a bad thing that he was alone in that terrible little apartment, his roommates returned home…up north, they'd said. But why hadn’t he gone north as well?

She glanced out the window. The sleet had changed over to thick, sloppy flakes of snow, rapidly piling up. She didn’t know whether to insist that he head home now, while he still could, or ask him to stick around so she could keep an eye on him. He was slumping where he sat, arms folded on the tabletop in front of him, head beginning to droop forward.

[unicorn-and-bluebells]

Hey wait a fucking second. So T'Mir and Stron agreed to let Mestral stay on Earth and study humans to his heart's content. Good for him, but what the fuck is he gonna do when Pon Farr hits??? Like he can't blow his cover and tell someone he's a Vulcan, but I doubt he'd just let himself die...maybe he meditates REALLY fuckin well or he picks a really good fight? But like he's got more than a human's lifetime left to live on Earth, no other Vulcans (especially since according to official Vulcan records, he's dead), and Pon Farr that is gonna hit him every 7 years. How the fuck did that man stay alive

[halfblood-fiend]

Star Trek Bingo 2020: Vertical Prompt 5

FUCK OR DIE

Show: Enterprise

Words: 5,940

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): explicit sexual content

The Ex in Extra-Terrestrial

Mestral had known that this outcome was inevitable. His biological needs would always catch up with him, he had only hoped that it wouldn't come to this, to her. It's been three years since he last saw Maggie, now she was his only hope if he wanted to stay alive. He only wished she would not judge him too harshly.

Read it on AO3.

He had known that this day was going to come eventually. It was as inevitable as the rising and setting of the single sun on this world that he had called his home for three years. A part of him—highly illogical though it was—had hoped it would never come at all. Perhaps, he would get inexplicably lucky (strange how that word had worked its way into his vernacular through his prolonged Human exposure) and his biology would not be so predictable.

But Mestral could feel the thunder in his bones and the crawling across his skin. Where everything on this planet was once cool to discomfort, now it was all burning hot. The pon farr was upon him.

Mestral did his best to take care of his problem himself. He had undergone meticulous planning on how to best approach this particular and unfortunate biological inevitability. He purchased a sequestered cabin far away from any human towns, stocked up on all the food and comforts he could think he needed, and he had planned to hole himself up and meditate for as long as it took to break the rampant fever. He would turn his intent inward, he could destroy his cabin if he wished, but he was optimistic it would not come to that.

However carefully he planned, a single loose thread nagged at the back of his mind. What if he could not do it alone after all?

On his travels, he had met a great many interesting and kind person. Some were even extremely aesthetically pleasing. None, however, had come close to the same importance as the woman from Carbon Creek, Maggie. No matter how pleasing the company or how fantastic for his work a new human was, Maggie was often in Mestral’s thoughts. Was she well? How was her son, Jack? Was he excelling in college? He had often wished to see her, to give in to a weakness that nagged in his mind, and, more often, in his heart. Always, logic dictated to him that to revisit Carbon Creek was never a viable option.

But if all his best laid plans regarding his Pon Farr failed… if he was forced to take a Human mate… Maggie was always Mestral’s first and only thought.

Promising himself it was better “to be safe rather than sorry” Mestral settled himself in a cabin in the woods of Pennsylvania, near where he and his crew had first crashed. He was careful to avoid Carbon Creek, choosing to drive further to get his necessities rather than visit the town where he could very well be recognized. Then, he settled in to wait.

It was very nearly two Earth weeks before he broke.

Mestral agonized by his telephone, but the meditation and the thrashing had done little against the onslaught of millions of years of evolution. He was backed into a corner and forced to make a final and irreversible decision.

He wished he didn’t have to do this to her.

Mestral dialed the long since memorized number and held his breath. After a few rings he felt a distinct sense of relief when he heard her voice on the other side of the line, slightly curious.

“Hello?”

He wasn’t certain she would answer at the late hour, but he was eternally grateful. “Hello. Maggie. This is… it’s Mestral. I—” How could he even begin? Where could he start?

“Mestral.” His name fell flat in her voice, and he withered inside, just a little. “You know you have some nerve calling here after all this time.”

“I-I know,” he replied quickly. He had calculated for this, but hearing the hurt in her voice made it worse. Foolishly, he had hoped, it would be as though no time had passed. But of course, humans with their short and emotional lives, would not let such pain as he had caused live down easily. Mestral closed his eyes and pressed the receiver to his ear desperately, like the lifeline it was. “Margaret, there is nothing I can say—”

“You’re damn right!”

“—only offer my sincerest apologies for the hurt I have caused you. I… I would not have bothered you again if…if it wasn’t imperative. If…” If I wasn’t dying. Mestral squeezed his eyes shut and felt the fingers in his pocket curl into a fist. What could he do? How could he explain?

How would she react?

“Mestral…?” Maggie asked softly. The change in her tone was encouraging, but Mestral wondered if it would be enough.

“Margaret, I need your help. You…you’re the only person I can trust. Can…can we meet?”

Maggie was quiet for several heartbeats, then, “Yeah… Yeah, we can, Mestral. Where—”

“At your tavern. After closing. Please…It will be a strange request, but I ask that you do not tell anyone of my coming.”

“You’re scaring me, Mestral,” she said in a hushed whisper. “But if you’re in a bind, I’ll help if I can. It’s the decent thing to do, no matter what you did to me.”

“Thank you.”

The lights inside the tavern were still bright, but Mestral had watched the last patron exit ten minutes ago. He stayed back in an alleyway across the street, just in case some late caller had a change of mind. The last thing he wanted to risk was for anyone else to see him here again. Part of him very much doubted that any Human, by their vaguely careless natures, would notice how he had remained virtually unchanged in the last three years. The rest of him was too compromised by the plak tow to believe he was thinking clearly. He was taking enough risks as it was, being here at all. No need to “tempt fate,” as it were.

At one am sharp, his fedora pulled low over his forehead and the collar of his heavy wool trench coat pulled up against the chill, Mestral pulled on the handle to Maggie’s tavern.

The air was warm and the sharp smell of Human alcohol reached his nose. For a moment, the idea to get Maggie so intoxicated she might forget everything crossed his fever-addled mind. And was immediately dismissed. Mestral refused to hurt her ever again. He was here to prostrate before her and entrust her with the greatest secret he had and hopefully, hopefully, she would accept him as her mate.

Otherwise, he was about to make the largest mistake of his life. And perhaps the last one, if Maggie was unwilling to help him. Between revealing his true heritage or dying, it was quite obvious which was the preferred.

Maggie sat waiting for him at a small table near the center of the room. She looked up when he entered, and tired blue eyes glanced at the clock behind the bar. A small smile crossed her face, though Mestral couldn’t quite tell if it was sad or exhausted. Perhaps both.

“You were always a punctual one, weren’t you?” she asked, softly laughing to herself. “Not sure why I’m really surprised.”

Mestral nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak just yet. Even if his senses were not as acute as his female counterparts’, the Plak Tow made what he did have nearly unbearable. Maggie smelled sweet. He could nearly taste her on his tongue from here. He had not quite anticipated the heady roll of memories that assaulted him the moment he was back in this place. Too easily he remembered sitting at the bar with her, smelling her perfume as she walked by him to deliver drinks, the way her lips felt on his when he had kissed her goodbye all those nights ago.

He could barely remember why it had been logical at the time to have left her at all.

Maggie regarded him for three heartbeats and then scoffed to herself. She turned her face away from him, her hand coming to her mouth. “I’m a damn idiot, Mestral,” she said bitterly. She sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob and this confused him. He remained helplessly by the door, waiting for her to continue. “I thought I could stay mad at you. I told myself to just hear what you had to say and then send you on your way, but seeing you…” When she turned back to him, she was misty-eyed, but made no comment on her mental state. “It’s good to see you,” she said so quietly, Mestral was certain no Human could have heard it. “Sit down, will you?”

“Maggie, I—” How many times had Mestral gone over what exactly he would say. So many ways he had planned how to broach the subject, but she was right. Seeing her sitting there, so close and yet so undoubtably far before him… “It is good to see you too,” he replied. He moved deliberately, all too aware of the storm that brewed inside him. How easy it would be to destroy the back of the chair, to throw the furniture rather than sit in it. This world was not made for him, but selfish as he was, he sought to make himself a home here. He forced himself into everything.

Mestral closed his eyes and attempted to gather his thoughts.

“Believe me, Maggie, that I had not really wanted to leave you. It was for—”

She shook her head violently and pressed her mouth together. “Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare, Mestral. Just…” She sighed. “Your coat. You must be burning up.”

“I am fine.” No, too harsh. “I appreciate your concern,” he added with more control. He was burning up, but coat or no, it would hardly matter. When he opened his eyes again, he sought her gaze. She put her hands out on the table between them, her intent clear. He stared at her fingers and gulped.

After a moment, she understood that he would not touch her, and Mestral hated the way her hands curled back into her body, the way the edges of her mouth set. “What is it that you need, Mestral? You sounded desperate on the telephone.”

Where to begin?

“If it’s money, I can do what I can, but you know what it was like here in the bar for me—”

“No, Maggie. I did not seek you out for monetary means. Nothing so…plain.”

She bit her lip and made no motion to speak.

“I… I would have a favor to ask you. And… it would be no simple task. In fact… it is almost unthinkable for me to request it of you, but I sincerely have no other choice. You must know that I have exhausted all other means.”

A crease appeared between her eyebrows and Mestral had to look away. The edges of the plak tow were making this painful. Such a monumental task not to shout his need at her without a care for her understanding. But he must hold firm. He must know a bond with him could be something she desired. She had seemed to desire it once, but three years was a lot of time for a Human and Mestral could make no assumptions.

“Just tell me, Mestral,” she said gently.

“I…will admit I do not know how to explain. There is no way to make my confession without it sounding…”

“Try me.” Again, she put her hand out, and again, he wished that he could allow himself to take it.

He drew his eyes away from her palm and focused on the chipped edge of the well-worn table.

“What do you know about Roswell?”

Maggie uttered a quick surprised bark of a laugh. “What?” she asked, incredulousness in her voice. “You mean…? What are you asking? About aliens?” She leaned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. “Did you show back up on my doorstep just to tell me about cookey conspiracy theories? And to think I thought you were going to ask me something serious—”

“I assure you, Margaret, I am completely serious.”

She narrowed her eyes at him for a heartbeat and sighed. “Sure. Roswell. Supposedly there were extraterrestrials that came to Earth to conquer us—or something—UFO’s and all that, but they were just stories. The guys here tell them when they get too drunk. Hell, Jack will tell me about them once in a while—subscribes to some trashy alien fan magazine that fills his head with drivel. All these tall tales and there hasn’t been any proof. So just what does this have to do with you?”

Everything. Mestral looked up at her disbelieving face and considered his words carefully. “Roswell and a few of the other isolated incidents were not founded entirely in fiction, Maggie. Some of them are true.”

She shook her head at him. “You came all this way, crawled out of God only knows where…just to talk to me about aliens… To think I thought you were different once—”

“I need your help!” Mestral cried over her. He balled his fists in his lap, and squeezed his eyes shut. “It is essential that you have a full understanding of me before I ever ask you for my favor. Roswell was real. The extraterrestrial race that landed there was one my people know as the Ferengi. And they are not the only other alien race out there. There are hundreds of thousands more across millions of galaxies. Space, the universe… is so incalculably vast, Margaret… You could not have truly believed that I, nor you, were ever alone in it.”

Such a logical argument, but her mouth remained a firm line. “So, there are aliens out there, according to you. Which is crazy—but fine. Say I buy that. Get to the part about you.”

Mestral stared at her hopelessly. This was neither going as smoothly nor as well as he had hoped. There was nothing gentle about his delivery, nothing light about what he had to say, and every moment longer he spent languishing was another moment he could feel his control slipping from him.

In all the fantasies about what he might say to Maggie, it had never been this way. Never shouted and never spoken so plainly. He had hoped for a kinder understanding. He had hoped for open arms, for the open heart that he had remembered her to have possessed. Rather foolishly, he now realized, as he stared despairingly at the years-dulled lacquer of the table top.

“I… I am one of them,” Mestral said softly. He peeked beneath his lashes to gauge her reaction, but there was nothing to gauge. With nothing else to do, he pressed on. “My colleagues and I. We were not from this world, nor any one nearby. We came here to-to study Humankind. Our races are so similar, yours and mine, and—We crashed. Outside of Carbon Creek. We stayed there for some time, but we were starving. And—”

��What?”

“We did not think we would ever be rescued, but then our distress beacon was found. T’Mir and Stron—they both returned to our planet with the rest of our people, but I—I elected to stay here on Earth—”

“You’re a—”

“I am an…” Mestral licked his lips. His heart beat frantically in his side. There was hardly any going back now. He’d come this far. And yet he considered reaching out and catching her neck in a nerve pinch and hoping that she would awake believing all of this to be some kind of dream.

But if he did such, he would die.

Maggie leapt from the table and took several shaky steps back. Mestral forced himself to remain seated. He put his hands up and hoped.

“You’re trying to tell me you’re some kind of a-a-a—a MARTIAN?”

He blinked. “A Vulcan.”

“A what?!”

“I am a Vulcan. Not a Martian. There are no such things as Martians.”

Maggie pressed a hand to her head and then pressed the other to her face too. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“No,” he replied quietly, staring at her intently as though if he took his eyes off her for a moment, she might disappear. “I am Vulcan. You asked me once why I always wore a hat when last I was here. This is why.”

She peeked through her fingers and watched as Mestral reached up with trembling hands and removed his fedora from his head.

He had relaxed on the Surakian look that nearly all his people adopted. It was easier to cut his longer hair himself, as visiting a Human barber was out of the question. There were certain advantages to keeping his hair longer as well. He could hide the tips of his ears the way Stron had done in his time here, but with the benefit of fewer people calling him “Moe.” Now, he revealed himself to Maggie, tucking his black hair behind his pointed ears and reflexively smoothing the front away from his forehead, as he had seen so many Human males do.

There was no fighting the nerves that swallowed him now as he stared up at Maggie, who’s face he could see, even behind her fingers, was crumpling in confusion and despair. She uttered a small squeak and waivered on her feet. Mestral half-rose, ready to catch her, should that be what she required, but she stepped further away from him. He froze. It occurred to him quite clearly that any movement he made now would mean the end of him. The end of this…whatever he had hoped it would be.

Lowering her hands, Maggie stared at him as if he was a different person. Her face was still stricken and pale, her mouth parted slightly but she wasn’t screaming or running. Mestral supposed he had to hope that counted for something.

“Your…” she said in a hushed voice. She took a step toward him and Mestral willed himself to be perfectly still, electing even to hold his breath lest he scare her away.

Her eyes jumped back and forth from his face, taking furtive glances at his ears as though she could offend him if she stared.

Please understand, he thought desperately. Please.

She came close to him. She raised a hand in front of her face. Mestral stared at her fingers. “M-may I…?”

Mestral clamped his jaw tightly. It was necessary. It had to be done. Control yourself! He gave Maggie a tight nod.

Slowly, her fingertips brushed the hair at his temple, and he closed his eyes, the muscles in his stomach going taut. Her skin blazed on his as Maggie touched him, tracing the shell of his ear and sending ripples of agonizing pleasure unwittingly throughout his body. Every nerve screamed at him. They shouted for their release, for the desire to grab her like some barbarian and find his end with her. Enough! they cried. To hell with patience! But Mestral was better than his base instincts. He had to believe he was.

He couldn’t tell how long or short a time the torture was. His skin sang long after hers had left him. Her smell filled his nostrils as he fought miserably for control of himself through a haze.

“—beautiful.”

He met her gaze again and was shocked to find her blue eyes on his face, looking over him wonderingly. “I always thought there was something strange about you, Mestral. It’s a little…validating to find out I was right.”

The tenderness in her face made him breathless. Mestral hardly dared to hope that perhaps this plan would work out after all.

“So…you’re an alien. And now you need…what? Asylum?” She smiled slightly. “I don’t know how much help I can be if you have a spaceship and everything.”

“I do not,” Mestral said hoarsely. “I committed to staying on Earth, and I was left with nothing. T’Mir and Stron took the wreckage of our ship, lest Humanity find it.”

Maggie nodded. “Okay. Makes as much sense as anything else, I guess. So…”

“My favor is not something to be asked about lightly. But as I have no way to return to Vulcan, and no hope of… There are certain…” Certain what? How could he possibly say it?

“Mestral,” she breathed, laying a hand on his chest. Perhaps mistakenly where she believed his heart could be. “If you are the only alien here… Are you…lonely?”

He looked down at her. Not quite the truth, but close enough. Perhaps if that was as close as an understanding as they could come to…

No. No, this was not enough. Mestral didn’t come all the way here and risk his exposure just to ease loneliness. And Maggie deserved to know everything, not be unwittingly tricked into bonding with him.

“I am…” He licked his lips. He could nearly taste her. “I am in need of… My kind, we must…take mates every seven years. I believed I could fight my nature but…”

Maggie’s eyes widened again.

“It was never my wish to leave you. But without my kinsmen, my anonymity here in Carbon Creek was limited, and I wished to travel to see more of your world. But when I felt the Pon Farr upon me—”

Maggie mouthed the unfamiliar words as he spoke.

“—my thoughts were only of you. There is no one else on this entire planet that I could possibly trust—”

“You…you came back just to have sex with me.”

Mestral shook his head. “No! Maggie, no. I-I came back to take—to ask you to be my mate. I can think of no other—”

She pushed him away with the hand on his chest, and though she could never hope to move him, Mestral stumbled back at her request. When she spoke, her voice shook with rage. “This was your request. Your favor??”

“Please understand—”

“Even men from other planets are all the same!!”

“No, Maggie—”

“You know, I guess I do owe you my thanks, Mestral. Thank you, at least for being so goddamn honest! If my ex-husband had been so upfront it would have saved me a lot of heartache!”

“Maggie, please!”

“You should go, Mestral! I am not some-some slut to-to-to—”

“Please, Maggie, I will die!”

Mestral squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. He staggered to the table and sagged his weight onto it. So much effort. It had taken so much effort to keep collected, but now his blood was pounding in his veins. His body threatened to shake itself apart, to rend his skin like tissue paper. He whimpered and then his legs gave beneath him and he collapsed onto the floor.

He hadn’t wanted to mention that final detail. It felt too much like pressuring. But as he saw his chance slipping away, he couldn’t keep the truth to himself anymore. His mind was hardly his own any longer. Maggie was truly his last and only hope.

“Mestral!” Maggie called from somewhere far off. Her voice seemed to carry sluggish and leaden as though through a dense fog.

“I would not have come, if it was not such a dire situation,” he wheezed, not entirely sure she could hear him. Perhaps the plak tow had driven him entirely mad and he was speaking to no one. “I wanted to protect you from anyone who could discover what I was. I wanted to… I—”

“Mestral…”

“I have a great admiration for you, Maggie. I…I owe you so much…”

He felt a pressure against his face and heat blossomed from his lips. The same heat that he had wistfully recalled over the previous three years.

Reality snapped into focus.

He was sprawled on the floor, his head in Maggie’s lap, and her lips; yes, her lips were pressed to his and he relished in the feel of her, the smell of her, the promise that lingered in the way her hands cradled his face. The blazing in his body screamed anew.

She broke their kiss and smoothed his hair away from his face, shaking her head. “I hate… I hate how I can’t let you go. I don’t know if what you’re saying is true or if you’re just… It doesn’t matter. I was so in love with you. I hate how I’m still in love with you…”

Mestral blinked up at her and raised a hand to touch her cheek. The feel of her skin sent a shock through him but he grit his teeth against the desire that uncurled in his chest. “Maggie…”

“Just…tell me what I need to do. T-To help you, I mean.”

He outstretched his fingers and Maggie followed suit. When all her fingertips touched his, he shuddered. He could hear her breath catch, feel her heart pick up its pace. The gnawing in his blood grew nearly to its boiling point.

“Parted from me…and never parted,” he murmured.

“Never and always touching and touched,” Maggie replied. Her eyes widened. “How—”

“We are becoming connected,” he breathed. “You can feel me as…as I feel you.”

She wanted to ask what that meant, and Mestral wanted very badly to tell her, but as his entire body shuddered violently, he could see he was out of time.

Mestral gulped. “I…we will only go as fast or as slow as you…”

Maggie smiled down at him. “I’m not a blushing virgin, Mestral. I know how this works. I was married once before, you know.”

Not like this, he thought, but he knew better than to say it.

He wanted so badly to kiss her. To reach out and drag her onto him, but he resisted. If he could do one thing right…if he could treat her the way she should have been treated all along…

Maggie licked her lips and looked at him resolutely. “Maybe that would be good for a… f-for a Vulcan woman but…” Her other hand smoothed over his hair and she stroked Mestral’s cheek with her thumb. He trembled under her touch and if he wasn’t already too weak to stand, he would have needed to use every ounce of his will to hold himself in place. “B-but I’m not a-a Vulcan woman, Mestral. I’m Human… and…and I just want to help you. Before it’s too late.”

Mestral realized she had heard his thoughts. It was happening so quickly with the fever. He nodded.

Gulping, Maggie leaned forward again and pressed her lips to his and this time she eased her tongue into his mouth. She pulled her fingers away from his and stroked down his arm. Her own fingers shaking, she trailed them across his chest and down his abdomen. She hesitated at the waistband of his pants and then attempted to undo his belt with one hand.

“Maggie,” he said hoarsely between her kisses. Something tight and desperate like fear knotted itself up around his heart.

“I know that it’s probably…strange. But a penis is a penis, right? You can show me what you like later.” Freed of the belt and the button, Maggie’s hand plunged beneath his pants and when she grazed his length, he convulsed, his hips bucking and a strangled cry escaping his lips. She squeezed lightly and bright light exploded behind his eyes. Every inch of his skin was on fire. “Is… is it pretty much the same for…Vulcans?”

She thumbed across the double ridges of his head, catching the dorsal nerve as she went and Mestral’s back arched.

“I’ll just go ahead and take that as a yes,” she said breathlessly.

When she withdrew her hand, Mestral made a most undignified sound, but he understood when her hands flew to the hem of her dress and she started pulling off her undergarments. He tried to lift himself up to sitting but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. She eased her legs out from under his head and lowered him completely to the floor, bending to kiss him again. Briefly. Then she straddled his hips and settled on top of him with a little shake of her own.

He groaned and gripped her thighs with his hands.

She was so fragile. He would have to be careful. But he didn’t know if he had that much control left in him.

Maggie bit her lip. Through her bare skin, Mestral could feel her trepidation. He wished he could give her more words of comfort—or any words at all for that matter, but he could not form anything comprehensible through the blood fever’s highest pitch. The only thing that he seemed to know was the ache that sprung from every part of him. All of him desperate for the relief that the press of Maggie’s body promised.

Fumbling fingers attempted to pull down his pants. Mestral obliged her by lifting his hips easily, even with her on top of him. She gave a little gasp, but she stabilized herself on his chest. His hands wandered up her thighs, revealing more pale skin to his hungry gaze. If he had any energy of his own…

Reaching around behind her back, Maggie groped for Mestral’s member. Her fingers running along the downy hair there sent him into frantic pants. He shook with anticipation for—there! She gripped his base and sent shudders and stars running though his body.

Her eyes were fixed on him. Determined. Resolute. He would have never known she was nervous if it wasn’t for her skin pressed to his.

Maggie rocked backwards and he felt his tip against something slick and hot. Tossing his head back, he keened through grit teeth and fought against the instinct to drive himself into her.

He couldn’t! He wouldn’t hurt her!

But all at once, Mestral was seized with pleasure as Maggie did her own driving. She was wet. And hot; so so blessedly warm. Like he never imagined. From far away he was dimly aware that Maggie had moaned, a lovely sound that melted him. Or it would have if he wasn’t already blistering.

She eased herself up and down, sliding over him, her hands planted firmly on his chest, his fingers digging into her flesh. Steadily, she rode him faster and he was blinded by colors so bright they all blended into white behind his eyes.

A meld. He needed a—

Mestral’s body convulsed and the tight strings that had wound in his stomach unfurled and snapped. He came in a high string of groans that would have been unacceptable for his Vulcan bondmate to hear. His new Human one, however, grinned with satisfaction and bent forward to press her lips over his cheeks, his nose.

It was like breaking a shackle that he hadn’t known he was wearing. Like coming up for air. His head cleared in an instant.

Mestral knew he was nowhere near finished, that there was still far more to this mating experience, but he could feel the strength returning to his limbs and a modicum of willpower returning to his mind.

He would no longer be a passive participant. Maggie deserved better. And he would make it up to her.

Grabbing his Human by her waist, Mestral rolled them over until he was poised on top of her. He watched the emotions play across Maggie’s face—shock, pleasure, delight—and he reveled in them.

He hitched the fabric of her dress up to her middle and noted how she gleefully undid the buttons at her neckline and freed her breasts for him. He heard her plea in his mind and bent to kiss her flesh the way she wanted, his tongue tasting her sweet skin. As his lips closed around her pert pink nipple, he thrust into her, and her cry of pleasure radiated down his spine with his own.

“Maggie,” he sighed as his hips found a rhythm with hers. “Maggie…”

She uncurled for him. He heard so much of her. Everything she said and all the more that she thought. She was open to him. Maggie was all his.

She came around him in a shuddering and delightfully human orgasm. The way her walls tightened and convulsed made him hiss and break through another of his own—another tie of Pon Farr snapped on the tavern floor.

His head felt clearer than it had in weeks.

“God, Mestral. God.”

The Vulcan cradled the woman to his chest and nuzzled his face into her neck. He breathed the scent of them both in and shivered.

“I still need you, Maggie,” he whispered.

She nodded, in a numb sort of way. He could feel through her skin that her mind was still fuzzy and reeling, but she was interested.

‘I’ll do whatever you want if you keep fucking me like that.’

Mestral blushed at her thoughts, but he was grateful the feeling was mutual. His fever was only somewhat lessened, and he was unsure if Maggie’s stamina could match his own. Who knew how much more he would need from her until his biological drive was sated?

“Bedroom?” Maggie panted as she attempted to wiggle her hips into his. “It’s been way too long. I don’t want to stop if you don’t.”

Mestral groaned and nodded into her neck. “I do not.” She whimpered as he eased himself out of her and got to his feet with her in his arms. Maggie told him the way without her having to utter a word.

‘Is he still gonna be here in the morning?’

He looked down at her. She watched him with glowing admiration, but there was sadness deep in her eyes. Sadness that he put there, he knew, but that he swore to himself to undo.

Mestral contemplated the ramifications of their actions here tonight while he climbed the stairs. Something big had changed for both of them, even if Maggie didn’t know the full extent of it yet. Whether she ultimately chose to keep him around when she found out, it didn’t matter just now. So far as Mestral was concerned, Maggie was his bondmate now, and he would do everything for her that that might entail here on Earth.

Anything. He would do anything she asked.

He lay her on her bed with care and she smiled up at him. She peeled off her dress and cast it aside and watched as Mestral shed his own coat and shirt and crawled on top of her.

Maggie’s fingertips traced the line of his jaw and along the shell of his ear. She lightly pinched the tip between her finger and her thumb and Mestral shivered. She grinned up at him. With her brown hair curled out over the pillow beneath her, she was a marvelous creature to behold.

‘Please, God. Let him stay this time…’

Mestral bent slowly and captured her lips in his. The soft movement of her, the pressure between them built and made his blood simmer again. His need pent in his body, winding up once more.

He broke the kiss and let his hand smooth up her arm until he clasped her hand in his own. “I will stay for as long as you want me,” he whispered against her lips.

“You really mean that?”

“Yes. I absolutely do. I am loathe to make the same mistake twice. I have not stopped thinking of you since we met, and I will not leave your side again unless you ask me to.”

She kissed him again. There was a certain finality to it that made Mestral warm.

“I’d have to be crazy to do something like that.”

[vulcanlounge]

Fic Call

Are there no Mestral/Maggie fics out there? Anyone?

There’s this absolutely adorable ship just waiting to be boarded. 💚

[broadwayfangirl222]

Before Kirk/Spock, before Sarek/Amanda, before T'pol/Trip....before even Solkar/Zephram, there was: Maggie and Mestral

[moonshadowed]

Gonna try to lay down for a while, but first I’m here to talk about T’LIA , my new Vulcan oc!

She is the daughter of Mestral and Maggie, and Jack’s baby sister.

She is half-Vulcan and half-human, but as she was raised on Earth, she has human socialization, and most often goes by the name TALIA , especially before first contact.

She was born sometime in the 1960s, and as a result grew up during the 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s (Vulcans age slower). She has all the slang and attitude of all of these eras, and is exactly as much of a disaster as you might think.

She frequently calls out and is against the superiority and condescension a lot of Vulcans have, and thinks the pursuit of logic above all else and suppression / rejection of emotion is a “load of bull.”

The first time a Vulcan other than her father did “live long and prosper” to her, she did the proper salute and said “hail and well met, my dude” while looking them dead in the eye.

[raurquiz]

#otd #startrek #enterprise #carboncreek #archer #tpol #triptucker #hoshisato #reed #mayweather #phlox #vulcans #tmir #maggie #mestral #stron #startrek58 @TrekMovie @TrekCore @StarTrek @StarTrekOnPPlus

[ao3feed-ds9]

Desert rose

https://ift.tt/l2akmUh by Stargirl1998 When the Vulcans came humanity was weary at first but we soon welcomed them. Oh how wrong we were to trust them. A war began. A war was lost. But if there is one thing the Vulcans should have learned about humans is that we don't give up so easily. Words: 191, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Enterprise Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Original Female Character(s), Maggie (Star Trek), Mestral (Star Trek), Original Male Character(s), Captain Solok (Star Trek)

[wifeofspock]

If you’re gonna tell me that Mestral and Maggie didn’t end up together, and fuck literally all the time, don’t even talk to me, don’t look at me

[tomfooleryprime]

Was Spock the first human/Vulcan hybrid?

First contact between humans and Vulcans occurred in 2063. Spock was born in 2230. If you listen to some Star Trek fans, that means 167 years passed before both our species decided to bear some sex fruit. Let’s be real though, 167 years is a long time for two civilizations to interact with each other without at least someone from one group deciding to bone someone from the other group, particularly when you consider the populations of both civilizations numbers in the billions.

We might say, “Maybe interspecies sex was just too big of a taboo! Maybe it took that long for barriers to finally start coming down.” Yeah, maybe. Or maybe it’s like Hagrid once said of Dobby the house elf: “Yeh get weirdos in every breed.” Even if 9,999,999,999 humans thought the idea of having sex with an alien was weird or unnatural, there would always be at least one exceptionally progressive person who could see beyond everyone else’s prejudices and pre-conceived notions, and I’m certain the same is true for Vulcans. I would almost be willing to bet that at least one of the first Vulcans who rolled off the T’Plana-Hath on that April morning in 2063 in Bozeman, Montana saw one of the locals and thought, “That human is aesthetically pleasing.” And all it takes is a spark, right? Besides, who wouldn’t want to hear a Vulcan pickup line?

And all the panties fell off as if by magic.

Moreover, in 1957, 106 years before official First Contact between humans and Vulcans, a small Vulcan survey ship crash-landed near Carbon Creek, Pennsylvania. There were only three survivors, and of those three, one of them just couldn’t stop himself from falling for the single mom who ran the local bar. Granted, Maggie didn’t know Mestral was Vulcan, but he definitely knew she was human, and a trivial thing like species didn’t seem to matter to him.

Smitten personified.

But wait, just because a few amorous, adventurous, or convention-hating humans and Vulcans might be willing to stand up and proudly (or maybe more discreetly) proclaim, “Love is love, fuck the haters” and get naked with each other, that doesn’t mean they were making babies because after all, humans and Vulcans are genetically incompatible and it would take a feat of medical engineering to swap gametes, right?

Argue if you want, but human/Vulcan sexy time dates back to at least 2153.

People who believe Spock must have been the first hybrid usually stake this claim on one or more of four arguments:

1.     Humans and Vulcans didn’t shack up routinely enough 2.     The science of making a hybrid baby didn’t exist until Spock came along 3.     Gene Roddenberry said so 4.     Spock clearly felt isolated as a child, but he wouldn’t have if there were more hybrids like him

I’ve already poked enough holes in the first claim. Maybe there weren’t a ton of interspecies couples, but I feel confident in saying there were at least some and some is all we need. And once people decide they like each other enough to form relationships, it’s usually not long before at least some of them start thinking, “You know what would make this better? A smaller version of us!”

As for the science behind making a hybrid baby, it existed in the mid 22nd century. Spock wasn’t the first. That’s a fact. Elizabeth, the hybrid child of Charles “Trip” Tucker and T’Pol, existed in 2154.

Pointy ears and pinchable cheeks.  

Elizabeth sadly died as a result of the improper cloning techniques used to conceive her, so there are many who would take the statement of “Spock was the first human/Vulcan hybrid” and simply add the caveat of “to survive.” Perhaps. But in the Star Trek: Enterprise episode “Terra Prime,” Trip says:

I spoke with Phlox. It turns out there was a flaw in the technique that Paxton’s doctors used in the cloning process. Human DNA and Vulcan DNA, Phlox says there’s no medical reason why they can’t combine. So if a Vulcan and a human ever decided to have a child, it’s probably be ok. And that’s sort of comforting.

So a Denobulan doctor knew a way to make hybrids a full 75 years before Spock was conceived. Maybe the technology was untested and required some refining, but by even a modern a technological timeline, 75 years is an eternity.  

There’s an interview between Gene Roddenberry and Mark Lenard which claims Spock was the first, and so a lot of people might be happy to believe whatever Roddenberry said was the gospel. In the interview, Roddenberry is interviewing Mark Lenard as Ambassador Sarek, asking him questions about humanity and his life when the subject of Spock comes up.

Mark Lenard: Spock’s mother Amanda is an extraordinary woman. Gene Roddenberry: And Spock was the result? The first human/Vulcan mixture? Mark Lenard: No, not the first, but the first to survive. As you must know, an Earth/Vulcan conception will abort during the end of the first month; the fetus is unable to continue life once it begins to develop its primary organs. The fetus Spock was removed from Amanda’s body at this time: the first such experiment ever attempted. His tiny form resided in a test tube for the following two Earth months while our physicians performed delicate chemical engineering, introducing over a 100 subtle changes we hoped would sustain life. At the end of this time, the fetus was returned to Amanda’s womb. At the ninth Earth month, the tiny form was again removed from Amanda, prematurely by Vulcan standards, and spent the following four months of Vulcan term pregnancy in a specially designed incubator. The infant Spock proved surprisingly resilient. There seemed to be something about the Earth/Vulcan mixture which created in that tiny body the fierce determination to survive.

So for some fans, maybe that counts as proof. But Gene Roddenberry had a lot of conceptual ideas about his beloved Star Trek that conflict with actual canon and modern science. For a prime example, just look at the treatment of star dates. So maybe it’s me, but I don’t think something is canon just because Roddenberry said it in an interview once. Furthermore, if we take that interview as canon, how do we explain this scene from The Final Frontier where Spock is delivered from Amanda (not a “specially designed incubator”) and presented to Sarek?

Then Sarek went and uttered one of the most dick lines in Trek history.

Lastly, there’s the isolation that Spock feels. How can we explain how lonely he is if it’s not because he’s the only hybrid? Quite easily, actually. Every single person in existence has felt misunderstood and alone at times. As children, our worlds are very small and our social circles consist of our immediate families, school mates, and our parents’ associates. That’s pretty much it. When we aren’t exposed to people like us, it’s very easy to imagine Rocket Raccoon might have been onto something when he said, “Ain’t no thing like me, except me!”

But that’s very rarely literally true, as every kid who’s ever been the only minority at their school or any teen who’s ever been the only gay person in their tiny conservative town will tell you. As we get older and achieve the freedom to strike out and meet people on our own terms, we often learn we weren’t quite as unique as we thought and there are whole groups of people out there who are black or gay or disabled or whatever it was that left us feeling so alone in our formative years. I think that’s why Spock’s character resonated so much with viewers – he was a symbol for all the misfits out there who knew just how much it sucks trying to fit into the fabric of a society that seems so different than they are.

 Proof that regardless of species, kids can be fucking awful. 

Vulcan was a big planet. By the time Nero destroyed it in Star Trek: 2009, it had more than 6 billion inhabitants. Even if there were only 100 human/Vulcan hybrids by that point in time, the odds of an average Vulcan encountering one would still be incredibly small. It’s entirely possible Spock may have felt like he was the only hybrid because he might have been the only one in his community, but the universe is a big place with plenty of room for other human/Vulcan hybrids he and those vicious bullies never met. 

Spock was clearly pretty special. Even people who hate Star Trek and know almost nothing about it know who Spock was and recognize the Vulcan salute Leonard Nimoy made famous in his portrayal of the character. But just because Spock’s human ancestry made him unusual doesn’t necessarily mean his conception was some completely novel, groundbreaking, pioneering leap for interspecies relationships either. 

I can’t say I know many Vulcans, but I think I have a pretty firm grasp on humanity. Despite homosexual, interracial, and interfaith relationships being taboo and even illegal in many countries until relatively recently (and sadly still are in some places) there have always been people who decided they didn’t care and took a chance on love. So I don’t buy the idea that humans and Vulcans could live and work together even in a limited capacity for more than a century and a half before making the jump into starting families.