I apologise for being ridiculously slow at updating this, I've jumped down the rabbit hole of TNG fic and it swallowed me for a while (do check it out if that's your thing).

She's going to kill Jim Kirk.

Nyota stamps out of the room, her boots striking the deck with a force that's unnecessary but makes her feel better.

She'd just about managed to forgive him for taunting Spock into an emotional outburst in the wake of his mother's death, and then he'd gone and done something even stupider.

In his ridiculous ship-wide Valentine's Day broadcast, he'd told the entire damn ship they were seeing each other. She knows that it was inevitable – after all, Spock and her are seen together enough to get tongues wagging - but she'd hoped they'd have a little more time before having to take the relationship public. Scotty and Ensign Jacobs had been far more discreet than she'd expected with regard to what they'd witnessed before Spock and Kirk had transported to the Narada that day. Perhaps it had lulled her into a false sense of security.

Ever since their recent reunion, she wants to feel that what Spock and her have is private and just for them. They've been growing back together, taking the time to understand each other and regain trust in the idea of their relationship. She knows he still feels guilt over hurting her, and her repeated attempts to dissuade him from this have had little effect. They haven't yet resumed the physical aspect of their relationship, both not wanting to pressure each other, but it's something that she wants to keep between the two of them.

Nyota sometimes wishes she didn't possess such acute aural sensitivity or understand so many Federation languages; as a result, she hears far more speculation about their relationship than she wants to.

She remembers a discussion they had about it the previous night. "Nyota, for my penis to exhibit bioluminescence, I would have to produce an enzyme which Vulcans do not possess. Surely the female ensigns in the science lab must know this. Therefore, it is illogical for them to suggest, as you say, that I have a 'glowing green cock'." Spock had told her this in his usual serious tone, but with a twitch at the corner of his lip that was about as close as he ever got to a smile. At least one of them was taking this in good humour.

"Lieutenant Uhura," the Captain says, smiling broadly in a way that would make her kick him in the gonads if he wasn't her superior officer. "You're looking tired this morning. Late night with lover boy?"

Uhura grits her teeth and says nothing, recites Starfleet regulations in her head regarding assaults upon superior officers. Not worth the court-martial, she chants silently as she scans subspace frequencies for any transmissions of interest. They'll reach Nibiru in twenty hours, and although the Nibirans are thought to be a primitive, pre-warp species, there could be advanced life in one of the nearby systems, and the thought excites the explorer within her. She's reminded of the little girl who spent nights sleeping on the roof in Nairobi with her telescope, just to catch a glimpse of a rarely-seen shooting star, and is strangely glad that her adventurous spirit is still there after all.

She finds Spock in the lab examining a small metal device.

"What's that?"

"A prototype cold fusion device that Ensign Jakra has been working on." Spock nodded to the ensign at the nearest station, who shot him a brief, if dazed smile. "It is quite ingenious. When activated, it initiates a thermonuclear reaction, which, upon detonation, absorbs even intense heat."

Nyota hid her own smile at the young man's obvious pride at being praised by Commander Spock. Spock was sometimes so oblivious to how many of the crew worshipped him. After hearing about his exploits on the Narada, there were many nods and loud congratulations from the men, and flirtatious smiles from the women (and some men) that spiked an irrational, possessive irritation within her.

"And I thought we were only supposed to be observing the Nibirans."

"Their planet has been experiencing significant volcanic activity. As a result, the Captain has decided it would be prudent to take precautions." He's still being serious Science Officer Spock, but he touches her lightly on the wrist, just enough for her to feel the potent wave of desire seeping through him.

Nyota looks up to see two junior officers trying not to stare. "I'll see you tonight," she says loudly, deciding that they might as well embrace their new-found notoriety.

Spock raises an eyebrow in return before turning back to his task.

It's night, but the view from the window is the same as ever, of stars slipping past at breathtaking speed.

Her fingers hover over the door controls, the door opens before she's even touched it, and Spock is there before her. The door has barely shut before his hands find the rounded curves of her hips, drawing her to him. His forehead rests against hers, his skin burning hot enough to make her feel feverish in the already elevated temperature of his quarters.

"I can turn down the environmental controls," he tells her, his voice low and heavy in a way she's not heard in too long.

"No," she says, reaching down to unzip her boots and kick them away, and he copies her. Spock pulls off his uniform shirts, carelessly dropping them in a heap on the carpet in a very un-orderly, un-Vulcan fashion. His fingers find the hem of her dress and tug it upwards, and there's a hint of a smile on his lips when the neckline gets stuck on her ponytail and he has to gently wiggle it free.

"Spokh," she murmurs, pronouncing his name in perfectly accented Vulcan, and it's gratifying to hear his sharp intake of breath.

They remove the rest of their garments, leaving a He stands naked before her without any move to cover himself, and she thinks how fucking beautiful he is, For all his Vulcan propriety, Spock has never been shy about sex, something she's grateful for. After all, it's an inherently logical act, the release of tension and oxytocin produced necessary to keep couples bonded.

The first time they made love, her hands shook while she undressed him, but he was confident enough for the both of them, slipping practised fingers between her thighs while asking in his quiet way what felt best for her. It wasn't lack of experience that had made her so shy, but rather that she felt so much for him, and it terrified her. He hadn't reached for her mind that night. That part came later.

With one step, he closes the distance between them, a warm, hard body leaning into her as one hand wraps round the back of her neck. She can feel the heated spike of arousal transmitted by his touch, and she knows he can sense exactly the same from her. When she brings her lips to his tentatively, he does not respond immediately, but she can feel his ragged breaths and the solid heat of him pressing against her stomach, and it's almost more than she can bear.

"Ashayam," he whispers, and then he is kissing her with a force that nearly makes her overbalance, his mouth wet and hot as his hips grind into hers. She grips powerful shoulders, enjoying the way the muscles flex under her touch, before one hand slides lower to find the curves of his buttocks.

Pulling away, she sinks to her knees, wrapping hands around his hips to bring him closer to her waiting mouth. When he sees what she intends, he makes a sound that's barely audible but could be a soft hiss.

She licks along the length of him, keeping her eyes fixed on his the whole time, and they're dark with a barely-suppressed desire only she would know was there. Just as she slides the heat of his cock deeper into her mouth, firm hands are on her shoulders, gently but insistently pulling her back.

"I plan on making this time last," he tells her in his most serious Vulcan, and she smiles in understanding.

Warm hands lift her effortlessly, deposit her on the bed and part her legs, exposing her for him, slick and wet. Soft black hair brushes her thigh, he inhales deeply and she feels the visceral, illogical reaction he has to her scent even through their weak mind-link. When his mouth finds her, he makes a noise against her that might be a groan, and she's powerless to stop the languid moans that fall from her lips as she squirms under his touch.

It bothered her at first, his near-silence in bed coupled with the loud, inappropriate noises she is unable to suppress under the onslaught of his pleasure. But Nyota has learned to read Spock, to note the barely-audible gasps, the heated, heavy breaths against her skin and the slight tensing of his features when he comes. There's a quiet grace to his muted reactions that express none of the intense feeling he's experiencing on the inside, and she has learned to love them just as she loves him.

Spock's mouth is so hot on her that she's on the verge of coming apart in an instant, each careful, measured lick and press of his tongue over her flesh driving her mad and coiling the tension within her. She's shaking, trembling and feels as though she might fly into pieces, her hips shifting against his mouth as she moans softly. His tongue circles her clit, fingers push inside and she can't hold back, shaking as the tension breaks inside her and she shudders against his mouth. Spock's dark eyes flicker to hers and his palm splays out flat against her stomach, holding her down as his mouth continues to coax small tremors from her body. Just when she's so sensitive that she's wriggling against him, begging for more but feeling over-stimulated, he sends her a visceral image of desire and she comes again, crying this time from the intensity of it.

He ascends her body, pressing slow kisses to her skin before resting his cheek against her chest, listening to the rapid beating of her fragile, human heart.

"Let me catch my breath for a second." Nyota laughs and slumps back on the sheets, boneless and sated, her skin slick with sweat and her eyes thick with tears. She twitches, and it's as if she can still feel his mouth on her.

Spock rolls off her and props himself up on an elbow, surveying her with curious eyes. His expression is impassive as ever, but she can detect a most un-Vulcan sentiment behind his eyes—obvious smugness and satisfaction.

"Trying to wear me out?" She grins wolfishly, knowing Spock will realise she isn't serious.

He of course, is, and appears to consider her answer for a moment before responding. "That would not be an entirely satisfactory conclusion to the night's events, I feel. Not that I am suggesting that it is unsatisfying to please you – quite the opposite. But I –"

Nyota presses a finger to his lips. "I know." She trails her fingers down his taut, pale stomach, following the coarse dark hair she finds until she's touching the extremely hard evidence of just how aroused Spock is. As calm as he appears, he can't suppress a small gasp, his hips moving into her touch involuntarily.

"Lie down." She flushes, and there's a renewed tingle between her legs at the roughness in his voice. Running her hands up and down his back, tracing the taut muscles, she draws her thighs up over his hips, hearing an audible huff of breath against her cheek as he presses against where she's wet and open for him.

His breath hitches as he pushes into her; it's the most beautiful sound she's heard in a long time. She winds hands round the back of his neck, whispers "come here," and angles her hips to take him in deeper.

"Please," he says roughly, a hand extended towards her face, and she nods, even though it wasn't a question, and she feels how much he needs to share every part of himself with her. His fingers find her psi points and the relief is immeasurable as their minds blend together; she thinks it must be the same for him, too. It's been too long since he allowed himself to be vulnerable with her, and they're not used to it. She's seeing too much, too soon.

/yes, nyota./

/spokh. mine. want you./

/always, nyota. /

She links her fingers into his, tears springing to her eyes as he moves within her silently, reverently. And then she really sees. She sees his dreams, the images of her, the warmth he feels in her presence and the coldness he felt without her. Lonely, sleepless nights in a perfect, ordered apartment where there's none of her laundry on the floor or the dirty plates she leaves in the sink. His ache and longing for her that's almost painful, and his anger at himself that she knows is still there.

Nyota tilts her hips into his, wrapping thighs tightly round his hips to bring him closer, wanting to sink into his skin and be there, part of him. She kisses his cheeks, his eyes, his lips, flooding their bond with the strength of her love and admiration for him.

/loveyouloveyouloveyou/

/you are everything to me/

/yes/

/love you/

/come/

And she does, pulling him over the edge with her in a wet, hot rush of sensation, until she can barely tell where her own pleasure ends and his begins. When his hips finally still, he does not move, just presses an open-mouthed kiss to the flushed skin of her collarbone. His jaw is slack, the muscles of his face relaxed, but then his mind floods into hers, and she realises she was wrong to think that he was over any of it.

The pain roars into her mind, a rush of images and thoughts that flicker like the pulse beneath an injury, incomplete but she understands them all. A small boy sits on a terrace with his mother while she reads from a heavy Shakespeare tome, the fierce Vulcan sun hitting the canopy above their heads. The image shifts. A young man waits nervously in the chambers of the Vulcan Science Academy; there's the touch of a warm hand on his face and pure love surges within him, as much as he tries to tamp down on that very human weakness. "Whatever you choose to do, you will have a proud mother."

Spock presses his face to hers and wets his cheek with her tears, buries his face in her hair and holds her so tight it leaves her breathless. Abruptly, he withdraws, pulling the sheet tight around himself as he turns his face away.

"Spock," she says gently – she knows him well enough not to attempt to touch him in this moment – but with a hint of irritation between her even words.

"I should not have allowed you to feel that," he says after a long moment. "It was – selfish."

Nyota shakes her head, indignant. "No. You're a stubborn idiot."

At that, he actually turns round and meets her eyes, and she's filled with the strangest urge to laugh, because she may have just shocked Spock, of all people.

"What I mean is," she continues hastily, "there's nothing wrong with what you showed me. I know it's not your way, and you'd rather not burden me with it, but I love you, Spock. And I'm human, and when we're hurting, we share that with the people we love, because we need them to understand us. As much as you would like to deny it, that human part of you needs to heal in its own way, even if the Vulcan part of you would deny yourself any emotional release."

He says nothing, but his hands find the rounded curves of her hips, and he pulls her to him rather more insistently than he means to. Nyota winds her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, and he kisses her, finding a kind of peace.

Obviously, we know that Spock went a bit nuts even after this point, but it does take time, and for me this still fits in with canon.