This is a collaborative story.

This chapter is written by TalesFromTheSpockSide.

Neither of us own anything Star Trek.

1. Shuttle

*********************

"Mr. Spock?"

I'm supposed to be running a post-flight check on this shuttlecraft; what's he doing in here? He turns in the pilot's chair, apparently not at all surprised, arms folded, long legs stretched out as if he were in his own living room.

"Yes, Ensign?"

"Sir, I believe this shuttle is scheduled for maintenance. I'm here to run diagnostics on the computer and navigation systems, but if you need to use it - "

"I do have a use for this craft, Ensign, but I see no reason why we cannot both make use of it at the same time."

I'm not sure if I can concentrate on my work if he's within fifty meters. Like so many women on this ship - or in the galaxy! - I find him fascinating, physically and intellectually. Okay, mostly physically. His pale coloring and contrasting black hair and brows, his high cheekbones, the exotic, beautiful ears, slim body and, let's face it, magnificent backside - all gathered together and gliding through the corridors like an alien panther -

I set down my tool kit on a nearby seat. "Yes, sir. Where should I start, so I can stay out of your way?"

"Actually, I believe we can work together on one of the tasks I have in mind."

"Really, sir? What task?"

He stands up, barely clearing the low ceiling of the craft, and presses a contact on the console. The shuttle door slides shut and the windows are covered; the interior lights are on safety mode, dimly amber. In this light his complexion is almost human-normal.

"A task which, I believe, you and I have both contemplated on occasion. One which requires privacy and a certain amount of - discretion." He's standing three meters away but his voice sounds like it's next to my ear. The panther is purring.

"If you're referring to the conversation you overheard in the mess hall, sir - I was just teasing Ensign Truman, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry I acted inappropriately." Not that sorry, says my inner demon.

"Didn't you, Ensign?" He moves a little closer, making certain he doesn't block my path to the exit. "You made reference to sexual practices among non-Terran species. You then mentioned at least two species with which you have enjoyed such practices, and Ensign Truman brought up the subject of Vulcans."

"Yes, sir." I'm blushing - from shame, or from sheer arousal, just thinking about it?

"I believe you expressed a willingness to experiment if an occasion arose to do so." He was within a meter now, looking down at me, not menacingly but almost - curiously? Then I see the gleam in his eyes and realize it's not curiosity, but lust. He must sense something in my body language because he steps back immediately and gestures toward the door.

"It is not locked," he says. "You may leave at any time, although I must insist that you keep this conversation private. This is a personal matter between, I hope, consenting adults."

I look at the door, look at him.

"You're a senior officer. I'm an Ensign."

"I am not in your direct line of command."

"Still. You could make life difficult for me, whether I refuse or cooperate. Sir."

He looks almost approving. "True. However, my intention is to make life more pleasant for both of us, if only temporarily. Much more pleasant. If it will ease your mind, I should tell you that Vulcans do not lie unless their survival is at stake. I promise you, I will speak no word to anyone of anything that occurs within this shuttlecraft, if you will promise the same."

I realize I'm licking my lips. I hear myself say, softly, "Promise?"

He nods. I put down the padd and reach over to activate the lock on the shuttle door. Then I step up to within reach of his arms and tip my head up to look at him and wait.

"Ensign."

"Commander…Spock"

I'm watching his mouth as he speaks my rank, as he regards me thoughtfully as if deciding where to begin. His lower lip particularly is rounded and full, and I can't believe I'm going to have the chance to taste it. I'm practically salivating at the thought.

Then he raises his hand to my face, his eyes still fixed on mine. He answers something in my expression, whispering, "Our minds will not touch; it is not necessary. Only our bodies," and on the last word he brushes my lips with his first two fingers. They open slightly as if to taste him and he traces them slowly, his own mouth open a little. I raise my own hand in the same motion, touching his lips, hot against my fingers, and I hear his breath catch.

"You are a quick study," he murmurs and his fingers slide from my lips to my cheekbones, tracing the lines of my skull, over my forehead, around my eyes, stroking my ears. I imitate the movement and when I reach his ears I lift my other hand to touch them both and this time he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Okay?" I whisper and he nods slightly, and his fingers slip down to my jawline, my collarbone above the low-cut uniform. My hands slide down to rest on his chest as I watch his head bend and tilt and his mouth come closer and now it's my turn to catch my breath -

But he only brushes his lips against mine, and I realize his arms are around my waist now, one moving up a little to spread his fingers across my back, the other moving down a little to fit into the small of my back, not demanding, exploring. I also realize my legs are trembling.

"Sir - Spock - " I don't want him to pull away, but if I don't sit down, or lie down, I'm going to fall down. He steps back, precisely, and lowers himself into a nearby seat, arranging me on his lap, my legs dangling on either side of his. I feel his long hands hot on my ass as he pulls me closer atop those muscular thighs.

This is more like it. Our faces are on the same level now and I wind my arms around his neck and run my fingers through his hair, tugging a little just to see what he'll do, and as he brings his lips to mine I can feel something like a smile and hear something like a chuckle. Then his lips are softly rubbing and teasing mine, stroking them, and I open my mouth a little, inviting him in.

"Vulcan hands," he murmurs as he teases, "are among the most sensitive and erogenous areas on our bodies. In humans, it is the mouth which enjoys this distinction. I find both areas equally - fascinating." With that, his tongue flicks over my lips, like butterfly kisses, briefly, then penetrates into my mouth, hot and wet and slow and deliberate. I want to thrust my mouth against his but I make a supreme effort and settle for sliding my tongue forward to taste him as he is tasting me.

I hear a hum in his throat, a satisfied sound, as if appreciative of my following his lead, and he rewards me by sinking his mouth deeper into mine, drinking me in now, his jaw moving as it opens and tilts and devours me.

His hands have not been idle; they have unfastened the neck of my uniform and drawn it down over my shoulders and those burning hands are now stroking my skin, down to just above my breasts, and I hear the almost-chuckle again. He withdraws his mouth from mine and says, "You are missing a required item of Starfleet uniform, Ensign."

"Bras are only required because if we didn't wear them, none of the male crew would ever get anything done," I tell him and arch my back so that my breasts rise under his hands, his sensitive Vulcan hands. He gathers them together, palming and pressing, now lightly, now firmly, until the merest touch on my nipples forces a deep hungry sound from my throat.

He's been watching my face the whole time and now he whispers, "Tell me."

"Tell you?"

"How it feels. I wish to hear your voice as I caress you, the hunger, the desire..."

"Yes," I gasp as his fingers roll and pull at my nipples. "Yes, your hands - so much hotter - so gentle, yet - insistent - you're making my whole body shake, just from your fingers on my breasts - and - I want your mouth there - "

"Tell me - "

"Take my nipple in your mouth," I pant, "and lick, and suck - unh!" as his mouth indeed connects with my nipple and proceeds to lick and suck as requested. He adds some more finger action, his tongue and fingers working the same spot, and the tiny amount of control I had earlier is fading fast as I grab and pull on his hair and moan.

"Yes," he says hoarsely against my skin. "Vocalization - very stimulating - both humans and Vulcans - "

"Tell me, then," I say to him. "Tell me what you want."

"I want to taste you," he growls. "Most intimately."

He doesn't have to spell that out for me. I lean over to unzip my boot, but his hand is already there, pulling off one, then the other, dropping them on the floor. I stand to remove my tights, fling them down next to the boots, pull my panties down from under my skirt. He is reaching for me but for once I'm too fast for him; I pull up his tunic and get hold of his pants, unzipping and pulling them open and stepping back just a little, just out of reach. He takes a deep breath and sits back and shifts and, damn, reaches into his pants and draws out his cock, slowly, almost tenderly, watching my face and looking rather smug.

"Visual input," I manage to say, swallowing hard. "Very effective on human females."

"So I have found," he agrees and, holy crap, pulls his fist up and down, once, then releases himself and draws me to him, to straddle him, not on his lap but standing over it. I look down at him, hands on his shoulders, and feel a sudden pang of gratitude that he is looking up at my face, not just at my body. I lean down to kiss him, gently this time, and his mouth is soft and sweet. Then I feel his erection nudging against my leg and I grin and he looks like he might be about to smile as well.

He spins us around in the pilot's chair and deposits me on the main navigation console, which thankfully is powered down. It's damn chilly on there and I make an "ah!" sound and squirm a bit, and Spock says, "Allow me to warm you," and slips out of the chair to kneel on the floor. He grabs my thighs, lifting and spreading them, pushing up the obscenely short skirt of my uniform until he has a panoramic view of my sex. He takes a moment to breathe in and closes his eyes.

"Tell me," he whispers, and I tell him, between gasps, "I want you to touch me with your mouth, your hands, anything, taste how wet I am for you, plunge in and find my clitoris and fuck it with your tongue..."

He's plunging now, black brows above my blonde mound, his eyes closed because it's all about feeling now, and his lips grope towards my center as I try to keep my balance, because even with his grip on my legs I feel like I'm falling, but maybe that's just lust. Just as his tongue reaches that spot I feel a long hard finger, maybe two, slide into my opening, under his chin, pumping gently, and I arch and fling my head back and once more clutch at his hair, this time screaming as he milks my clit with his mouth.

My head reels. Dimly I am aware that Spock has withdrawn slowly from my sex and is kissing my breasts again. He catches my eye, once I can focus again, and says slyly, "It is fortunate that these craft are well insulated against environmental hazards... and sounds..." I laugh breathlessly and he rises, slowly, to stand between my legs, his hands still hooked under my knees so I'm tilted back against the low console. His swaying cock is about level with my shoulders but when I try to lean forward to kiss it he makes a "uh-uh" sound and pushes his pants down and off one leg, so they are still attached but he can spread his legs wider.

They spread. And spread. And spread, and I watch his thigh muscles tighten as his feet slide and his hips sink until his sex is aiming directly at mine. The shuttle console is lower than standard, like the ceiling, so his ass is less than one meter off the floor as he leans forward. His tongue and his cock enter me at the same time, slowly, almost carefully, balancing. He pulls me down a little so that we are joined snugly and leans his weight against me slightly.

"You will have to hold on to me," he rasps, "in order for me to balance us adequately." I nod, incapable of speech, and as he leans over to nip at my earlobe I feel him begin to rock, not very fast or very deeply but very rhythmically, pulling out only an inch or so and then sinking back into me. I can't believe he can thrust at all in this position. I can't believe he can even stand in this position. I want him to stay in this position, so I hold on to his shoulders and kiss and lick everything I can reach, his neck, his lips, even his eyebrows. When my tongue flicks out over the point of his ear the panther sound returns and he thrusts a little harder and it's not going to take much and my sex is rubbing against his hard body and, oh shit, I'm being fucked on a console by the hottest man in Starfleet, who is now growling and pulling my legs up to get further inside me, pants around his ankle, head down on my shoulder like he's coming down to the wire, and he is and I am and there's a last-moment frenzy of pumping and squirming and grabbing and gasping, and completely unrestrained vocalizing on both our parts.

My legs wrap around his waist and his arms come swiftly up to brace himself against the console as he nuzzles my neck and I stroke his hair.

"Tell me," I whisper and he whispers back, "Extraordinary."

"Verbal feedback," I say with a grin. "Always welcome."

He lifts his head to kiss me, at the same time gently drawing my uniform back up over my shoulders. As he steps back to collect his clothing I slide down off the console; I will never, ever run another diagnostic without thinking about this experience. The interior of the shuttle smells of sweat and sex. I turn to pick up my tights and panties and encounter his broad chest and long arms; he wraps around me and kisses me deeply one more time. "Thank you," I murmur as he slowly releases me.

Spock touches my face with his palm and the almost-smile flickers.

"Carry on, Ensign."