Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

A/N 1: Both Kelly Flenderson, Psy.D. and I love Twilight; any comments about the books are made with nothing but love and in the interest of humor. (I also firmly believe that, one day, Midnight Sun will be sitting next to the other four books on my bookshelf).

Team Edward; Team Taylor's Chest.

A/N 2: Sorry for the delay of the end of this story – the Olympics have been particularly distracting this year; in related news, the last two chapters of Monogamy Rocks! will also be delayed.

A/N 3: Eternal thanks go to my friend and beta, miss steph, and to the exceptional ladies of Writers Anonymous: Spockside, ETC, SS, Tea Oli, Aqua, Doc, nerdie, hopeful and kal.

Part Seven of Seven: It's Time

Meet her needs first.

It was a lesson I'd learned from my father and grandfather; one of the many that a man needed to be A McCoy and, by extension, A Proper Southern Gentleman; those immutable expectations that had stood the test of centuries and change: Woo a woman with patience and soft touches; respect your elders without fail; learn how to manage your bourbon; always be the last man standing; respect women - they'll be mothers and grandmothers someday; always wear a hat in the summer sun; tell the truth; meet her needs first.

Sometimes I wished that I'd been born in Iowa.

"Things got much more fun when the werewolf started narrating, because he's not as prissy as Bella and every other word wasn't about how Edward was perfect and beautiful and like marble," she continued as we walked the corridors between the mess and her quarters.

Lunch had been about the first two books – though it appeared the first two books were the same story, just from different points of view - and dinner about the last three; Gaila had barely stopped speaking and I had just watched her, watched her eyes and lips, had memorized the shape of her ears and nose and jaw.

Woo a woman with patience and soft touches. And listen to her as she talks about books you'll never, never read.

"Then the baby is finally born in a completely disgusting birth scene that further reinforced that I never want to have children – at least not half-vampire/half-Orion children."

And then I could only think of light green babies with auburn hair and blue-gray eyes and Joanna's nose. My nose.

You're gone, McCoy. Done, gone, never to rise again. Just like the Confederacy.

It was pathetic – but a whole hell of a lot better than thinking about drinking blood and the associated health risks.

"I made it through the birth scene only to get to the part where Jacob imprints on the baby and I almost gave up with that – but I figured I'd already read ten thousand pages…."

"Ten thousand?" I asked into silence as she took a rare breath.

"Thereabouts. And despite there not being any sex at all-."

I knew how the books felt.

She opened her door and I followed her into her quarters. "I wanted to know what was going to happen and make sure Bella and Edward were going to be okay, which, of course, they were because Bella discovered that she was the best vampire of all and they lived happily ever after."

The End.

"I thought you didn't like vampire books," I noted.

"They weren't really vampire books," she said. "The only person that drank blood was the baby."

I looked at her for a long moment.

Nope. She wasn't kidding.

"Why did you read them again?"

She shuffled her feet and dropped her eyes and mumbled something about a friend recommending them – then she began to swing from heel to toe.

It was the worst kind of torture imaginable.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

Patience, Leonard H. McCoy.

"The no-sex thing was disheartening – but I liked the romance," she said and I perked right up.

Was that an opening?

Please let her have meant it as an opening.

"I agree with you on all points," I said, quirking an eyebrow at her. The eyebrow was like catnip and it never failed.

Please don't let it fail this time.

She smiled. "You agree that they weren't really vampire books?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to look imposing; I was pretty sure I failed miserably. "I don't read books in which the main characters don't have the good fortune to be born Southern."

She giggled. "So you're referring to my points about sex and romance."

"Romance is likeable and no-sex is disheartening," I said.

"I agree," she murmured; she stopped bouncing and tipped her head alluringly. The smile she gave me curled my toes.

I walked to her, my hands reaching out to take hold of whatever body part my fingers got to first. Somehow, they got tangled in her hair and the scent of it swirled out, making me dizzy – God, just like in the fucking vampire books – because she smelled like hundred-year-old bourbon and sun-warmed honeysuckle, like every good and intoxicating thing in the universe.

"Good," I said, brushing my lips against hers, licking the part of her lips. She squeaked a little and pressed herself closer; I battered back my surging needs and focused on her.

I wanted this to be good for her; I knew it would be good for me.

I was easy like that.

Then she wiggled out of my arms.

"Gaila?"

She was halfway across the room, holding up a shaking hand. "You're good," she mumbled.

"Thanks."

"But Spock and Nyota and Kelly would kill me," she continued.

"Why would Spock and Nyota kill you and who's Kelly?" I asked, trying to get my blood to flow northward.

It wasn't working.

She shook her head vigorously. "Irrelevant. You've seen my medical records, right?"

"Uhm."

"You know I'm of sound mind."

And body.

Oh God her body.

And her mind.

I want her for her mind, too.

Definitely her mind.

And her body.

Definitely her body.

"So you can't call me crazy," she persisted.

That focused me. "Gaila, I'd never call you crazy."

I'd married crazy; I'd lived with crazy; I'd divorced crazy's ass.

Gaila was not crazy.

She held up a hand. "And you can't laugh at me; promise me, Len: no laughing."

"Honey, I'm not going to laugh."

"You might want to," she said. "Because I have something to tell you, and it is kind of insane and it's definitely ridiculous, but Oekon help me it's also true and I have to say it to you to get to the next step – and I really, really want to get to the next step - so here goes."

I could barely follow her – so I just waited.

She took a deep breath, "I have very strong feelings for you, Len –"

Oh.

Almost every licentious thought flew out of my head.

She continued speaking, her voice quicker and higher than usual. "And not just the usual 'I want us to have insanely hot, universe-shattering sex' feelings – though I definitely have those for you too, because, well, you have the magnetic lips and the brown eyes and the doctor hands and you are absolutely adorable and that beard makes me weak in the knees and wet in the…."

She took a deep breath and pressed her palm to her forehead. "Okay, getting back on track. I'm crazy about you and I think that I could be," she faltered again and bit her lip so hard I worried that she'd draw blood, "in love with you." She stopped and perched her hands on her hips. "So?"

She looked defiant – like she thought I really was going to laugh at her or call her crazy. I stared at her for several long moments, trying to find the words that were going to best describe the tangle of emotions in my gut - the ones that ran the gamut from blinding terror to…blinding terror, with joy and hope knotted stubbornly at the center.

"Gaila," I said, walking to her so I could pull at her hands and rub my thumbs over her wrists, "I have," I paused and looked in her eyes – let myself be grounded there, "feelings, too. For you. Feelings for you. I have feelings for you…;" and holy shit, it was completely true.

She blew out a breath and stared at me. "Okay, good. That's done."

"What's done?" I was able to get out before she threw herself on me, her lips crashing into mine.

Gentle touches, gentle touches, gentle touches.

"Whoa, whoa," I said, pulling my head back. "Slow down, darlin'."

She looked confused; I felt confused.

Damn indoctrination.

I traced her face, followed the lines with my fingers just like I'd been following them with my eyes for weeks.

Her shoulders headed for her ears, the tension coming off her body in spirals.

"What?" I asked.

"But I told you and now I get to enjoy you," she said, her voice full of urgency. "It usually goes faster than this."

"Not with me. I like taking my time," I said, following the curls with the pads of my fingers.

Like I was taught to.

"But the thrusting is the good part," she said, rubbing against me.

My fingers stilled. "But there's more than thrusting," I pointed out.

There was kissing and touching and licking and learning – and I really did love those parts.

Her eyebrows drew together.

I spoke into the breach. "Fast can be good, but slow is so, so good. Why would you want any less than long, luxurious kisses, and slow, sweet licks – caresses that cover your entire body from top to bottom in one excruciatingly thorough movement? Slow, darling, is what I do best."

I followed the muscle at the side of her neck with my tongue and teeth until my lips were at the shell of her ear. "And you will enjoy me, Gaila. I guarantee it."

She trembled.

I shifted my arms around her waist and picked her up enough that I could move us, get us into her bedroom.

I bumped a table and she made a squeak of protest. I released her and she fumbled to pick up a picture of a pretty, older Human woman and a pale, even older Human male – they were smiling widely.

"Who're they?" I asked, momentarily distracted by both the picture and her concern for it.

"Just a friend of mine – and her husband," she said, reaching for me again – and I didn't give a fuck who the couple was – I had Gaila in my arms and nothing and no one else mattered. I lifted her again and moved her, her feet dangling, into her sleeping alcove.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you for making starship quarters so tiny – I can carry her to the bed without hobbling myself.

When the back of her legs hit the bed, she broke off the kiss and turned her head, looked down at the mattress, looked back at me and smiled wickedly. "Well, look where we are."

"Yep, "I said, tugging her shirt off and reaching around to undo her bra. "Here we are."

"So you've given up on the whole taking your time thing, right?"

"Nope," I said as I dragged her bra off; my fingers were tangled in the straps and my nails gently scratched the length of her arms. "I don't have anywhere to be – and neither do you." I pushed her skirt and panties down; the last stitch of clothing fell away from her body and I was finally able to see all of her – her sleek legs, her – Holy God – completely shaved mound, the flare of her waist, her truly incredible breasts.

My eyes snapped to hers. "You are fucking incredible, Gaila."

"I know," she said.

Hot damn her assurance was alluring.

My fingers flexed, my cock flexed. My heart flexed.

She put her hands on her hips and bounced.

I watched the movements and my brain seized.

She smiled wickedly. "Finally came around to my way of thinking, didntcha, Len?"

Yes!

Her needs first. Her needs first. Her needs first.

She wants it, Len. She wants it right now, right here. Give it to her.

Her needs first. Her needs first. Her needs first.

I pulled myself together. "Nope," I said low and sultry because my voice was being swallowed by lust, and I started to pull at my own clothing blindly because I was wholly unable to look away from her.

Her hands reached out and I took a hasty step backwards. "I'll take my own clothes, off darlin'," I said; her not touching me was about the only thing keeping me in check.

That and the specter of my grandfather – switch in hand and ready to beat me senseless if I didn't do this right.

She put her hands on her hips and stared at me, watched me as I shucked my uniform, boots and socks.

Then we were naked, standing and staring at each other. I opened my arms to her and she fit herself into my embrace, turned her lips up towards me. I obliged her, taking control of the kiss.

The brush of her breasts on my chest as she breathed was maddening and I delved deeply into her mouth.

The delicious bite of her nails in the nape of my neck pulled me out of the haze created by her mouth.

I ended the kiss and stepped away from her, taking her small hand in my shaking one. I guided her to the bed, to her side, and settled myself beside her and took her mouth again – licking, touching and tasting. She made whimpering sounds, mewls of pleasure; I ran the fingers of one hand up and down the long, straight line of her spine. Eventually, I lightly fisted her hair, easing her head back so I could nip at her jaw and chin, flutter kisses across her cheeks and eyelids. I eased her onto her back, sparred a glance for her truly spectacular breasts, then looked at her face. Her eyes were still closed, her lips opened slightly. She was panting.

"Sweetheart?"

Her eyes fluttered open to reveal eyes as dark as pitch.

Guess she enjoyed that.

"More," she said between panting breaths.

"I told you to trust me," I said, my lips ghosting down. "I know very good things."

She said my name, a shattered sound.

I found one perfect red nipple, sucked at it, brushed it with my palm. The shattered sound wore on and her fingers wove into my hair, tugging and pulling – guiding me.

I let a hand drift down the plane of her torso, over the sleek, naked skin of her mound, and down to the soft slickness between her legs – to where she was wet and ready, fragrant and, I was sure of it, delicious.

She was whimpering by the time I rained kisses across her belly, moaning when I crested the gentle rise of her most feminine parts, and practically insensible when I gently parted her soft skin and took a taste.

Her fingers tightened in my hair and I held back tears of pain and focused on her.

She tasted wonderful – amazing – like nothing I had ever tasted – like something I wanted on my tongue everyday for the rest of my life.

I picked my head up and gazed up at her – her eyes popped open and she looked down at me, her eyes black with desire.

"Gllrg," she said.

"I do love how you taste," I announced, because I wanted her to know and because I did.

Really, really did.

"Gah!"

"Exactly," I said, stroking her skin and trying to decide if I wanted to watch her climax or wanted to be inside of her the first time she did it with me.

McCoy sires, I think I've met her needs enough for the moment. I can take care of myself, too, right?

There was no ghostly dissension, so I kissed my way back up to her lips and fit myself onto her.

Her hands migrated to my hair again and I stared into her face as I surged forward and took her, claimed her, joined with her.

Her breath erupted in an explosive gasp.

"You okay?" I asked, alarmed that my formidable – very, very formidable - size had shocked her.

She smiled, her eyes definitely stunned. "It's good," she said, "Really, really good. Len, good, good…"

The rest of what she was going to say was lost in keening as I began to move in earnest. I buried my face in her hair and let the smell of it, the sound of her, the feel of her envelop me completely.

She dug her nails into my back as she climaxed – the reality far better than the fantasy; I came explosively soon after.

"Wow," she whispered in my ear sometime later. "You were right."

I fell to my side and gathered her into me and fumbled for her sheets - silky and not at all regulation – and blankets to cover us. "I told you I knew things."

She nuzzled into my neck and I could barely hear her next words. "I guess Nyota was right, too."

"About what?" I asked, my eyes growing heavy; I wanted to burrow myself into her narrow bed with her solidly beside me; burrow and sleep. Then wake up and maybe try her way: hard, fast and urgent.

For her.

She propped her chin on my chest and I forced my eyes open. "Feelings make it better," she said, as if she'd discovered cold fusion or the cure for cancer; I chuckled and tightened my hands on her skin.

"But I'll still want to use my toys from time to time," she announced.

Dear Lord, I know that I am obstinate. I drink too much. I'm crotchety and mean and cantankerous. I've been an ass to Chris. And Spock. And that child, Topher. And Jim, even though he's deserved every single hypo. And that twit Feroce in Engineering who thinks he has brain cancer every time he stubs his toe, and… just about all of the idiots I've had to deal with on this damn ship.

But Lord, I thank You for overlooking my flaws and deficiencies of character and bringing me a hot girlfriend who likes toys.

Amen and hallelujah.

~~The Story Will Continue~~