Note: I consider myself a new initiate to Star Trek. Although I know the basics of the 'old' Star Trek, neither it nor its successors ever grew on me. This new one, though... wow. So to those who are avid fans, please forgive any inconsistencies with ST canon.

Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to be able to say that Spock or Kirk are mine, alas it's not so. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story.

Big thanks to my beta Xtie; without her, this fic would be chock-o-block with inconsistencies, weird sentences and other stuff that would leave you scratching your head.

Also, this is my first fic in a long, long time! Please review and let me know what you think.

Alive

Spock eyed the amber liquid as it swirled around the glass he held.

"Glenlivet," the new engineer had called it. "More necessary to the survival of any true, red-blooded Scot than water or oxygen, even combined," he'd uttered in his strange brogue. Mr. Scott was, aside from exceptionally gifted at what he did, an amiable fellow who had been courteous enough to show up, bring a gift and leave shortly thereafter.

Unlike the others, the Vulcan thought irritably. Like Scott, many members of the crew had taken it upon themselves to pay him an unannounced visit to congratulate him on a mission accomplished. He found himself drawing upon a pool of patience to avoid being sharp with them as they long outstayed their welcome. After all, he knew they meant well and he had to admit that the continuous pats on the back, figuratively speaking, left him with a sense of satisfaction one only gets through peer recognition. However, as he had never been one for socializing, all this attention was beginning to grate on his nerves.

Only two crew members of his team had yet to show: Jim Kirk and Lieutenant Nyota Uhura. Kirk's absence was easily explained. First, he was acting captain and his place was on deck. Second, he had been on the same mission as Spock, and was no doubt receiving a similar stream of well-wishers. Third, despite what his future self affirmed, Spock and the current captain were not yet close friends, so he saw no reason why the other man would visit.

Nyota, however... Although it was illogical, her absence bothered the Vulcan. He reminded himself that as the Enterprise and its crew made their way home without warp capability, the communications officer's role on the ship was more important than ever; clearly, she would be searching for signs of other Federation ships that could lend them assistance. Yet, he mused, trying a sip of the whiskey and finding it surprisingly to his taste, it would have been comforting to have heard from her by now.

As if on command, the comm for his door chimed. Spock sighed deeply. He considered, if only for one nanosecond, ignoring it but shook his head. When petulant behaviour became a seriously-considered option, it was time to clear his mind. He would entertain this last individual, and then try to encourage their early departure so he could move on to some much-needed meditation.

But not before finishing his glass of Glenlivet. He had to admit that 'Scotty', as he'd been asked to call him, had admirable taste in spirits.

"Enter," he answered flatly to his guest's second chime.

He stood up, as was customary in greeting a guest, but found himself unable to move forward when he spied Uhura in his doorway.

"Nyota," he acknowledged, his voice hoarse. Why did you take so long to come see me? I've needed you-I feel like I'm unravelling... He was sure his eyes relayed all the emotions that swirled below the surface, but a lifetime on Vulcan allowed him to prevent his body from showing any outward signs. "I expected you to be on deck until we reached the Laurentian System."

Spock remained still as a statue, one arm at his back in its customary spot, one at his side holding the glass of whiskey. He never moved when the young woman entered his quarters, allowing the door to slide shut behind her, nor when she approached him.

"I tried to come and see you," she admitted, as if she'd read his thoughts. Taking the glass from his hand and placing it on the table, she continued. "But Lieutenant Hartman was called to sick bay to assist with Captain Pike, so he couldn't relieve me." Her voice shook and came out as a whisper. "I needed to see you, Spock."

When she moulded her body to his, wrapping her arms around his neck, Spock finally allowed himself to relax in a way that only Nyota ever saw. He rested his head at the crook of her shoulder, inhaling deeply, taking in her scent. "I've needed you," he admitted in a shaky breath, sliding his hands from her back to her waist.

Since his father had confessed to marrying his mother out of love rather than logic, being with Nyota was easier. In a sense, that admittance had freed a part of Spock that had been holding back—guilt, perhaps, at feeling such a human emotion—and allowed him to express himself more openly. It seemed so normal, finally, to hold her, to let her know how much she meant to him.

At first, he thought the dampness on his neck was from Nyota's tears; humans'—especially human women's—fragile hold on their emotions meant that they cried much more than what any Vulcan would have tolerated. When he felt her heart rate increase, though, and her breathing quicken—signs he knew full well from moments stolen in a turbo lift, a vacant hallway, even his office—he knew that his initial assumption was incorrect. The Vulcan closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, a mechanism on which he relied to keep himself under control.

However, with every pass of her mouth against his skin, her lips warm and soft, her tongue dancing along the taut muscles of his neck, Spock felt his usually rigid restraint waiver. His response so far in their relationship had been to hold back, to refrain from giving in to what both he and Nyota desired. On Vulcan it would have been highly improper, as an unbonded couple, for them to surrender to the hunger that consumed them both.

After the events that had transpired in the past few days, though, beginning with the Neruda's destruction of the other Starfleet ships, to his mother's death, his planet's annihilation, and his own close call in his future self's ship, he came to the very illogical decision to 'screw it'. Mother would have been proud, he thought ruefully.

Spock pulled away just long enough to see the need in the young woman's eyes before pressing his lips to hers more passionately than he'd ever allowed. His mouth devoured hers in a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses, one hand at the back of her head just below her ponytail, the other cupping her backside, pulling her to him.

No longer harbouring the inclination to repress his emotions, he caved in to a strong desire to celebrate simply being alive.

When Uhura felt the Vulcan capitulate, giving in to his basic instincts, she returned the kiss just as passionately. Just as she'd appreciated the careful pace and tenderness Spock had initially set in their relationship, she was now ready to follow him in abandoning herself to the lust she'd been feeling since their first kiss.

She threw herself into the embrace a little too fervently, her pent-up desire trying to find a release all at once, and sent Spock tumbling backwards. Luckily, he directed their fall so that he landed in his chair, comfortably seated with the young woman perched atop him, one knee on either side of his thighs.

Their faces were a hair's breadth apart, eyes bright and expectant, lips slightly parted. The moment reminded Spock of that instant before one of Vulcan's rare storms, where the air was so heavy it seemed to weigh you down.

The thought brought back some of the pain that he'd pushed aside, but he reminded himself that he was alive, that it was illogical to waste time grieving when he had so much to live for—especially at that particular moment.

Uhura was surprised when it was Spock who made the first move, placing his hand, palm down and fingers splayed, on her right thigh. His dark eyes never left hers as his hand slid up her smooth skin, disappearing under the red skirt of her uniform. There was a storm brewing in his gaze, emotions held captive for too long now simmering near the surface, carefully-erected barriers being knocked down as his warm hand brushed against the cotton of her underpants.

"Spock," she moaned, the naked longing in her voice rendering it nearly alien to her own ears. She leaned forward until her forehead touched his, and began to rock back and forth against him, creating a deliciously wicked rhythm.

The sudden sound of Spock's door chime made them pause only slightly. "Ignore it," the young woman breathed between the kisses she peppered along his jaw line. "I fully intend to," was his response as he leaned his head to the side, giving her hot and very capable mouth better access.

The door chimed again, and Spock found himself becoming irritated. Didn't this individual have enough common sense to leave when their chime went unanswered?

"Spock? It's Jim."

The Vulcan sighed deeply and placed his hands on Uhura's shoulders, gently pushing her away. "I must answer," he stated, not quite managing to mask the disappointment from his voice.

"Why? He'll give up and go away. Please stay," she purred, dragging a finger over the point of one ear.

Spock hissed, his grip on her shoulders becoming almost painful. "I believe," he said, trying to regain his composure, "that was what is considered 'fighting dirty'."

Abashed, Uhura rose allowing Spock to stand. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. She sat back in the chair, watching him walk to the door, admiring the feline grace of his lean body. "Great," she muttered under her breath. "Just keep getting yourself worked up while he entertains his buddies."

Spock stopped mid-stride, back ramrod straight, and turned around to face her. "I would not consider Jim Kirk to be a 'buddy' of mine, nor do I intend to entertain him. I am simply preventing a potentially uncomfortable situation, as the last time I attempted to ignore him he serenaded me until I answered my door. My plans continue to be," he added, "to entertain you."

***

Before answering, Spock ensured that his breathing was even and his heartbeat was back to normal. He smoothed his hands over his uniform to remove any creases, and pressed the 'open' button on the door's keypad. It slid open to reveal Jim Kirk, still clad in the same black uniform he'd worn since embarking on the Enterprise. "Jim," he acknowledged with a nod.

"Spock—I was starting to think I'd have to break out in song again." He wore his widest insolent smile, eyebrows raised in teasing. When his taunting got even less response than usual, his smile became more genuine. "Hey, I'm sure you're sick and tired of visitors but I..." He paused mid-sentence, his surprisingly sharp eyes focussing on the Vulcan as if for the first time. His wide grin returned, and he craned his neck to peer over Spock's shoulder. "Well, I was going to invite myself in, but I see someone beat me to it."

Spock's eyebrow raised in customary fashion and he turned, his gaze following the acting captain's. Nyota reclined in his chair, the very picture of debauchery, his glass of whiskey dangling from her fingertips. "Lieutenant Uhura and I were... discussing..."

Kirk interrupted him with a raised hand. "That's ok. You've both more than earned the right to have whatever 'discussions' you wish to have." His countenance became more serious. "Look, I just wanted to thank you in person for your actions today. I'm glad I had you at my side; we certainly couldn't have won if it wasn't for you."

For one of the few times in his life, Spock found himself shocked speechless. It seemed that he'd greatly underestimated Jim Kirk. He may have been young, inexperienced and what humans refer to as a 'rogue', but he undoubtedly displayed considerable leadership qualities.

"Thank you," he replied genuinely. False pride was not a characteristic among Vulcans. The acting captain was correct in stating that Spock had played a crucial role in the Enterprise's victory against the Neruda; it would be illogical to pretend otherwise.

Still, it was pleasant to hear praise when it was sincere.

When the Vulcan spoke, his words surprised him almost as much as they did Jim Kirk. "Captain, in lieu of this missed opportunity to convene, I could come to your quarters at a time which is convenient for you with the goal of debriefing. I could even bring the 'whiskey' that Mr. Scott gave me. It is surprisingly pleasant for a Terran alcoholic beverage."

Kirk couldn't help but grin. Leave it to Spock to take 5 minutes to say 'How about I drop by your place so we can have a drink and shoot the breeze?' "That sounds great. I should be in my quarters all evening." He peered again into the room, wagging his eyebrows in greeting to the young woman—and getting a scowl in return. "Oh, and Spock?" He leaned in and whispered a few words that caused the science officer's eyebrow to rise as high as it could go, and then walked away chuckling to himself.

Spock turned back to his quarters, locking the door behind him. He had to admit, as his gaze settled on Nyota, that Kirk's parting comment had piqued his interest. The young woman crossed her long legs, allowing him to see more thigh than usual. He felt his own body respond; after all, at that moment he was just a man—not a Vulcan, not a commander, not a science officer.

His approach back towards the Lieutenant was calculated, his steps slow and measured. There was no question that the events which had taken place over the past few days had left him emotionally compromised—he had admitted as much to the crew as he ceded the Enterprise's captaincy. Now that he took the time to assess the jump in his relationship with Nyota, doubt crept in. Were they making the right decision? Was he acting of a sound mind, or was his judgement clouded? Was Nyota returning his affections in a misguided attempt at comforting him?

Sensing his mood change, Uhura stood up and crossed the floor to where Spock had stopped. She took his hands in hers and led him back to his sofa, where they could sit down side by side, rather than on top of each other as they had been in the chair; somehow, she knew he wouldn't be as receptive to intimate physical contact as he had been before Kirk's interruption. He sat stiffly, back straight, legs pressed together, ensuring that they kept a respectable distance from each other. "Please talk to me," she pleaded.

Honesty had always been the best course of action in his relationship with Uhura, even before they'd become romantically involved; it would have made no sense to change tactics now. He kept his gaze focussed on the centre of the room to avoid looking into her brown eyes. Logically, it shouldn't have mattered whether or not their eyes met when he spoke, but his control was weak and he feared losing the courage to speak freely.

"I am weary," he admitted. "Much has happened in the past few days and I have not yet had the time to contemplate the ramifications of these events." When Nyota slid closer to where he sat, he allowed her to reach out to him, pulling him close to her and holding him against her as a mother would a child. The gesture reminded him of times in his extreme youth, when his mother would offer comfort after a trying day at school. His voice wavered as he continued. "Logic dictates that, no matter what happens, the living must continue to live. However, a part of me feels like it may never reconcile my mother's death."

Uhura held him even closer, as much for her own solace as for Spock's. "Oh, honey, your mother just died. You are not a machine—you can't just turn grief off or push it aside because it's inconvenient. I'm sure even your father is grieving, in his own way."

"He loved her."

The young woman was taken aback at the awe in his voice. "Of course he did. He was married to her."

The Vulcan pulled out of the comfort of her embrace and turned to face her. To a stranger, his composed face would still have seemed cold and emotionless despite the topic of conversation. But Uhura could see the pain in his eyes. "When I was a child, I asked him why he had married Mother. His answer was because it was logical." He'd expected her affronted gasp, and continued. "Love is hardly ever a factor in Vulcan marriages, which are often... I believe the term you would be most familiar with is 'arranged'. But since her passing, he has admitted to marrying her out of love, not out of a sense of logic."

Nyota leaned back against the sofa's arm, drawing her legs under her. "Can you ever see yourself marrying someone you don't love?"

Had she asked him the same question a week before, Spock would have considered the question carefully and replied in the affirmative—a logical decision. After all, he'd believed that his parents' union had been founded on logic, and theirs had been a long and satisfactory marriage. Why shouldn't the same happen to him, as well? But his father's admission had taken him by surprise. If his father, a full Vulcan, married out of love, how could Spock ever truly expect himself to do any different?

"Never," he whispered, before pulling her to him for a searing kiss.

***

As Spock's mouth left Uhura's, lips tracing the soft line of her jaw, he felt her shift, changing positions. She lay back, stretching her legs to either side of him, and attempted to pull him onto her.

He allowed himself to fall where she guided him, his narrow hips nestled between her thighs. His lips never left the satin of her skin, skimming along the graceful column of her neck. Instinct took over, and he found himself pressing his erection against her to the same rhythm as his kisses.

When she moaned and pushed her hips back up, Spock finally broke his embrace. "Nyota," he groaned, as they moved in unison, rocking together on the narrow sofa. He felt overwhelmed by the emotions that were washing over him; his head swam—it was too much, all at once. "I need..." I need for us to slow down, I need to feel your body skin to skin, I need to think clearly, I need "... time."

Uhura stilled beneath the Vulcan. "Of course," she whispered against his neck. She kept silent as he closed his eyes and took deep calming breaths, but internally she chided herself on her lack of control. She should have taken into account that this was new to him, this physical desire that could be overwhelming even for humans. It was obvious by the polarity of his actions—at one moment giving in to intense desire, at the next pulling back, needing to regroup his senses—that he'd never had a chance, or reason, to develop a coping mechanism to reconcile such a flood of emotions.

The young woman removed her arms from around her lover's neck, placing them to her side; she then relaxed her body so that she lay still beneath him. Her eyes alit on his face, watching as the stress smoothed away with every measured breath he pulled into his lungs. Spock remained in position above her, his arms straightened in what was likely an effort to keep their bodies from touching. Even now, as he worked hard to calm himself, Nyota struggled against the urge to touch him. Her skin burned with the need to feel the warmth of his hands, the weight of his body on hers, rocking as he had been before he'd pulled away.

More than anything, though, Uhura realised that she needed to calm down. Closing her eyes, she began to take deep breaths, allowing her own lungs to inhale and exhale in tandem with Spock's. The only concession she allowed her physical need was to raise one hand to his side, just above his waist, placing it over his heart. In no time, she felt her thoughts calm down, and the urgency of her desire lessen.

Spock slowly pulled himself from his meditation. Through the contact of Nyota's hand over his heart, he had sensed her own attempt to calm herself. And although his desire was still there, the exigent need had—to his relief—abated. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her brow, watching as her eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Hey," she whispered, the corners of her lips pulling into a lazy smile.

"Hey," he returned awkwardly, oddly satisfied by the giggle garnered by his uncharacteristically colloquial response.

Uhura fidgeted, trying to get more comfortable. "Mmm..." she said, pointing her toes in an attempt to stretch her legs, "maybe we can take this somewhere with a bit more wiggle room?"

Spock raised a brow at the Lieutenant's use of yet another peculiar expression. Its meaning made sense, though, as he looked down at where they lay; Starfleet-issue sofas were obviously not meant to accommodate two bodies. "Would my bed be considered to have more 'wiggle room'?"

The young woman raised her own eyebrow, mirroring the Vulcan's. "Your bed, hmm? Is it bigger than the sofa?"

"Considerably."

"Then it's only logical for us to move our activities to a location with more wiggle room," Uhura replied in mock seriousness. She couldn't help but laugh, though, when the corner of Spock's mouth crooked into a half-grin.

"Your attempt at emulating Vulcan speech patterns is charming, if inexact in this case," he confided as he stood up.

Ever the gentleman, he held his hand out to help her stand. When she began to walk towards his room, though, he remained rooted on the spot, pulling her back to him. "Before we proceed," he cautioned, "we should discuss necessary precautionary measures."

Huh? Nyota's brow creased in confusion. Was there something she'd missed about Vulcan mating rituals that she should know about? She searched Spock's face for a sign—any sign—of what he'd meant by 'precautionary measures'.

Although he still had much to learn about reading human facial expressions, Spock could easily tell that he needed to clarify his statement. "I myself am proof that Vulcans and humans are compatible species. I believe it would be wise to take responsible actions to prevent any undesired consequences resulting from our intimate relations."

The young woman's eyes slowly widened in understanding. "Oh, those 'precautionary measures'..."

She thanked her parents, who had always taught her to think two steps ahead of where she was—although, she thought wryly, it was doubtful their intention had revolved around her sex life. As her relationship with Spock had blossomed, she'd kept in mind the possibility of this exact moment.

"Actually, I've been on hormone regulation bursts for the past few months. We're about as safe as we can get, next to abstinence—which isn't an option right now." As if to demonstrate this fact, she began to walk backwards, pulling him towards his bedroom.

When they entered the dark bedroom, Spock addressed the room control "lights, dim" before continuing towards his bed. He somehow had the notion that full brightness would not suit the mood, yet he still wanted to be able to see Nyota as they finally consummated their relationship. It never ceased to fascinate him how he could be so certain of such facts, despite having no previous experience on which to base himself. His mother would have told him not to question instinct—as would Nyota, no doubt.

A lifetime devoted to logic, only to place his faith in instinct. Love indeed knew no bounds, not even for this Vulcan.

Spock sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Uhura to him so that she stood between his parted thighs. Wrapping his arms around her slender waist, he rested his cheek against her stomach where her heart would have been, were she Vulcan. He also took a moment to appreciate the Enterprise's low-lying beds; their design would no doubt come to their advantage.

When Uhura's fingers traced the edges of his ears, he let out a shaky breath, fighting the urge—the instinct—to pull her onto the bed, rip off her undergarments and enter her.

That would be ill advised, he thought to himself, as the experience will no doubt be far more enjoyable the longer it lasts. In the spirit of extending their pleasure, the Vulcan decided on a slower course of action.

His hands found the zipper at the back of Nyota's skirt; agile fingers skilfully lowered it, sliding the piece of clothing over soft curves and long legs until it pooled at her feet. He then reversed the action, smoothing his hands up her silky skin until they reached her hips. Unable to resist any longer, he placed a kiss on her taut stomach, his tongue tasting the salt of her skin, drawing circles around her navel.

Uhura was no longer sure if she would be able to get through this with her sanity intact. She had expected to have to take the lead. She'd expected awkwardness on Spock's behalf. What she hadn't expected was for him to take control, and to do it in a way that would leave her quivering, literally, at his fingertips right from the get-go.

"You are shivering." His warm chocolate eyes looked up at her with concern. "Shall I increase the room's temperature?"

"No..." She was a communications officer, had excelled in all her linguistics courses, could hold discourse in numerous languages and dialects, yet she found herself unable to form a coherent sentence. The near-palpable desire fuelled by Spock's touch seemed to electrify her skin, setting her nerves on edge and diminishing her capacity for lucid thought.

Spock was concerned. Nyota had never been at a loss for words. He racked his brain, trying to think of other reasons why humans would tremble. What he came up with worried him. "Are you..." He was almost reticent to ask. "Are you afraid?"

His words snapped her out of her trance. Afraid? He thinks I'm afraid?! The young woman let out a nervous laugh. "Oh, god no. I'm not afraid, Spock. I'm... You've got me so aroused right now, and we've hardly even started, and I've never felt like this..." She took a deep breath, managing to regain control of her emotions. "It's a good thing, Spock; a really, really good thing."

"That is reassuring." And although he would never show it, or admit it out loud, Nyota`s words also gave Spock a shot of pride.

But he still couldn`t shake the momentary alarm caused by the thought that he had frightened her. He kept his gaze steady on hers as he addressed her. "Nyota—I need you to make me a promise."

"Of course. Anything."

"If I overstep a boundary, or if any action on my part makes you uncomfortable, I trust you will let me know."

His eyes, locked on hers, were unguarded. She saw that he was serious, and that hurting her was a legitimate concern of his. "I promise," she replied quietly, adding "however, only if you promise me the same. I know that this influx of emotions isn't easy on you, so I want you to let me know if I get too carried away."

Spock appreciated her concern, as well as the reciprocated request. "I also promise," he confirmed, before returning his attention to the young woman standing so close to him.

He placed his hands on her sides and slid them upwards, following her curves and lifting her top as high as he could from his position. The lieutenant, always a quick study, gripped her shirt by its hem and pulled it over her head. Spock watched as the garment went flying, landing in one corner of his room.

When his hands slid back down, retracing their path, Nyota expected him to remove her underwear. Not only was it the logical next move, it was the one she longed for. She'd never been a patient woman, and now was no different. She needed him to touch her, needed to feel him inside her, long and hard...

But, as he'd done so often tonight, Spock surprised her. One hand stopped at her hip, but the other continued past the white cotton, sliding down her thighs and cupping the underside of her right knee, guiding her so that her foot rested on the bed beside him. His attention was focussed entirely on the knee-high black boot, his fingers caressing the well-worn leather.

Not for the first time since meeting Spock, Nyota wished she was the telepath. Luck was on her side, though, because he broke his silence.

"In your novice year at Starfleet, you attended my Introduction to Interstellar Communication course."

Silence, as if he was diligently considering his words. It was unusual for him to make redundant comments, so she matched his quietness, waiting eagerly to see where this was leading.

"You sat in the front row, twenty-seven seats from the auditorium's West entrance. On that first day, you wore these very boots."

Uhura couldn't believe what he was saying. "Spock, there were over two hundred students present in class on that first day..."

He continued as if she hadn't interrupted. As he spoke, he began to glide a finger in a feather-light touch from the heel of her boot to the inside of her knee. "To this day, I cannot understand the immediate and nearly uncontrollable reaction that consumed me upon their sight. I was forced to retreat, albeit momentarily, to the classroom's office to recapture control of my senses. It was at once an intriguing yet frightening experience."

"I remember..." Nyota's mind went back to the first time she'd seen the man who would become her lover, the first—and last—class where she'd arrived with only seconds to spare. "I thought you were mad at me—you'd given me such a severe look, and then you'd stormed off. I was sure you were going to give me a dismissal note."

Spock's finger paused as it slid across a particularly ticklish spot beneath the young woman's knee before resuming its course on the inside of her thigh. "It came as a great relief when I discovered that you are as intelligent as you are beautiful."

He leaned in and brushed his lips along the same path as his finger; this time, Uhura refused to hold back the moan that his touch elicited. "Why didn't you say something to me before last year, then?"

"The impropriety of our student/instructor relationship prevented me from revealing my attraction to you. I was forced to seek out your company in other ways—hence my request to have you as an assistant." He paused, his lips inches from the apex of her thighs. "Do not take offense, Nyota, but I no longer wish to pursue this discussion. There are other things that capture my attention..."

***

Breathe, Nyota, breathe... The way Uhura saw it, she had two options. The first was to keep status quo, where Spock would turn her into a puddle of mush with that magical mouth of his. The second was that she would gather her wits and turn him into a puddle of mush.

Reluctantly, she pulled away and placed her foot back on the floor; no one ever said that Nyota Uhura couldn't hold her own.

Biting back a smirk at the look that Spock gave her—it was about as near to a pout as a Vulcan could have mustered—she managed to find her voice. "Tsk, tsk," she chided dramatically. "Now, why is it that I'm standing here in my underwear and my boots"—she dragged the word out in a most alluring drawl, relishing in the heated glance he threw the footwear—"and you're still fully dressed?"

With a gesture of her hands, the young woman directed him to scoot back on the bed, just enough to give her space to rest a knee between his thighs. She leaned in for a slow, sensual kiss, letting her fingers skim down his firm chest to the hem of his blue uniform shirt.

As Nyota pulled the garment up over his head, Spock decided that it was without a doubt more pleasant to have a beautiful woman undress him rather than completing the task himself. An act he hoped would be repeated many more nights...

It was curiosity that led him to allow himself to be pushed down so that he was lying across the bed, legs still dangling off its edge.

It was desire that coursed through him as Uhura held herself above him, her long and lean body a temptation in which he was eager to indulge.

It was an altogether different emotion, however—one that Spock had not yet realised—that surfaced as her gaze, warm and passionate, locked with his.

Those same eyes never left his as she reached down and undid the clasp of his pants. His heart rate increased as she unzipped his fly, her hand brushing against his erection—a deliberate move, judging by the quirk of her lips.

Despite his attempts to quell any outward show of emotions, a low moan escaped his parted lips. The Vulcan in him frowned in indignation; the human side, for its part, felt an odd sense of relief at the outburst.

Later, when he regained the capacity to think clearly, Spock would ponder how vocalization increases the pleasure felt during sex. For the moment, though, he was content to simply have the wherewithal to lift his rear off the bed so that Nyota could remove his pants and underwear.

Uhura stole a moment to observe her lover's body, now that it was entirely revealed to her. He was lean and well-built, the paleness of his skin interrupted by the occasional greenish blush. As his head was thrown back, and his eyes closed, she was presented with the opportunity to boldly focus on pleasing him as she had so often fantasised.

Sitting back on her haunch, she pulled her hair out of the ponytail that still neatly rode high up on her head despite the evening's passion. Leaning in, she allowed it to cascade to one side, tickling his skin. This new sensation pulled Spock's attention back to her. His gaze was dark with need, his lips slightly parted allowing shallow breaths to be inhaled and exhaled in a barely-controlled fashion.

But Nyota did not want Spock to be even barely in control. She wanted him panting and writhing beneath her, in a most un-Vulcan way.

Knowing that nothing worthwhile was ever achieved by cutting corners, the young woman placed one hand on either side of the Vulcan's head and leaned in to slowly drag the tip of her tongue along the shell of his ear. When her lips closed around its tip, sucking it into her mouth, he let out a gasp. "Spock," she whispered, "I want to drive you crazy." Her mouth left a trail of wet kisses down his neck, which was drawn taut. "I want to make you beg me." She explored his chest with her tongue, dragging her fingernails just hard enough for them to leave a light trail. When she reached his erection, she locked eyes with him. "I want to make you lose control."

When Nyota took him in her mouth, hot and moist, and did that... thing... with her tongue, Spock's Vulcan mind simply went blank. He reached down and, grabbing her by the shoulders, pulled the young woman up against him. He then used his strength to flip them over, reversing their positions.

There was no trace of emotion in his face, but when he spoke his voice was rough and strained. "Although you have managed to 'drive me crazy'," he admitted, his eyes flitting to her mouth, the memory of what she could do causing his cock to twitch, "I do not beg. And the fact that you remain somewhat dressed is a testament to the control that I still exert over my baser instincts." His features softened as he continued to speak. "If... if I were to lose control of my emotions, I would hurt you. That is the furthest of my intentions at the moment."

Mindless of his nudity, the young Vulcan sat up, glancing at the woman who lay beneath him yet again. His fingers traced a path to her underwear, pausing as they hooked into the waistband. "It would seem that you are now the one who is overdressed," he confided, a trace of humour in his voice.

Pulling the cotton garment down her long legs, he hesitated when he reached the top of her boots. "Would it be inappropriate for me to request that you keep your boots?"

His words were but a whisper, and the eroticism of the request caused Nyota to nearly melt. She couldn't find words fit for a response, so she simply shook her head.

As Spock finished removing her underwear, careful not to snag them on her boots, Uhura raised herself up on her elbows and removed her bra. She lay back down on the warm sheets, and watched as her lover stretched his lean body above hers.

In a moment of clarity, the significance of this next step in their relationship struck Spock. Just as he was poised to enter her, he broke the heated silence.

"Before we proceed, I..." He pressed his lips together, frustrated with his lack of ability to communicate his feelings. He needed to find the words, needed to share his thoughts with her before they consummated their relationship.

"Having been raised on Vulcan, it is difficult for me to share my emotions with others. However, after today's events, I realise the importance of being transparent with those whom I love."

The young woman looked up at him, her eyes moist. Her smile was a sign that he was clearly conveying his message. Supporting his weight on one forearm, he brought a hand up to cup her face.

"I must tell you, Nyota, that you are dear to me, and that I love you."

Uhura let out a choked breath that was part laugh and part sob. "Oh, Spock," she whispered, lifting her lips to his for a kiss.

Their gentle embrace deepened when Spock finally pushed in. His movements were achingly slow, matching the languid motion of their mouths. Already, he could feel his control slipping. Although disappointing, it was not surprising as they'd spent over an hour in foreplay. However, he needed to find ways to distract himself, to make their first time last longer.

He broke their kiss, sliding his lips down the column of Uhura's neck, across her clavicle and down to her breast. As his tongue traced the contour of one nipple, dragging and teasing and drawing out the most arousing sounds from his beloved, he brought his hand up to cup her other breast.

"Spock," Nyota pleaded. "You're going to drive me crazy. Come back up here."

The Vulcan did as she asked and, after a heated kiss, made his confession. "Nyota, I'm afraid I will not be able to last much longer. You are..." His eyes widened as he felt her contract her inner muscles, gripping him strongly enough to prevent him from moving inside her. He corrected the end of his sentence with "...utterly devious."

"You're not the only one who's close, Spock." The young woman relaxed her muscles, allowing her lover to continue their age-old rhythm. "Stop thinking and just feel." She smiled when he began to move faster. "Lose yourself in the sensations—just let go..."

And he did. Spock let go, allowing himself the indulgence of letting his control slip just enough. Enough to forget everything that had happened that day. Enough not to be too cautious, for once. Enough to hear and feel Nyota come apart beneath him as he drove into her with an increasing need. And enough to follow her over the precipice, calling out her name in a choked cry.

They lay there, not bothering to move, as the adrenaline from their release wore down. When he felt Uhura shift beneath him, Spock finally rolled over to his side, facing her. Her eyes were drowsy, but she fought to keep them open. "You're very dear to me, too, Spock," she admitted. "I love you very much."

The young woman fought back a yawn, laughing at her own fatigue. "You know, guys are the ones who are supposed to fall asleep after sex, not women."

Spock's lips turned up into what Nyota now viewed as her secret smile. "Perhaps in typical Earth relationships, but in this case the man already requires very little sleep, and the woman has had a very long, trying day." He pressed his lips to her forehead and then pulled her against him. "Sleep, now. Your mind and body need it."

***

James T. Kirk groaned and banged his head on the captain's—his— desk. He hated paperwork. Loathed it. Back in school—and didn't that seem like aeons ago—he had managed to weasel out of many papers using his patented charm.

However, as acting captain, he knew that he could no longer rely on his guile to relieve him of unsavoury tasks. Starfleet would want to know the course of events that had occurred, and it was up to him to provide his own record.

When his door chimed, he looked at the time displayed on his PADD and saw that it was past 23:00 hours. He groaned and stood up, stretching from the hours he'd spent seated in the same position. "Hold on," he called as he made his way to the door.

As he walked over, he wondered who could be at his quarters at such a late hour. The only person he'd invited was most likely cocooned under a pile of warm blankets with a lovely Lieutenant. Nyota, he told himself, smirking.

When the door opened, he was surprised to find Spock waiting, a bottle of scotch and two tumblers in hand.

"Spock," he said. "I didn't expect to see you tonight."

The Vulcan frowned. "You did accept my offer, did you not?"

Jim moved aside, allowing the other man to enter the room. "Well, yeah, but I figured you'd still be debriefing Nyota."

The double-entendre did not escape Spock. "Discussing," he corrected flatly. "And Lieutenant Uhura is sleeping. This was the best opportunity for a visit." As he followed Kirk into a separate seating area, he took the time to observe the rooms. Although his first officer's quarters were a step up from the living areas of lower-ranking shipmates, the captain's quarters easily doubled their size.

As he sat down, Kirk couldn't help but tease the Vulcan. "Tired her out, huh?"

Spock was wondering whether this visit had been a poor decision. Perhaps he and the captain—acting captain—were not destined to be the great friends they had been in the alternate world from where his older self came. He couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. "Jim, I do not believe that there is one person on board the Enterprise who is not tired after today's events."

Kirk was quiet as he poured the scotch. He remained quiet as he lifted the glass, swirling the liquid around in the same motion as Spock had what was now hours ago. "But we're the lucky ones," he said, soberly. "We're the ones who made it, who are going to land on Earth, who will be celebrated as heroes."

The Vulcan was surprised by the lack of enthusiasm in the other man's comments. "Your tone of voice implies that you do not agree with this."

"It's just..." Kirk floundered, trying to find words to express what he meant. "It's just unfair, Spock. They weren't any different than us. Every ship was manned by a crew of cadets—neither ship had an advantage over the other. Why is it that the Enterprise made it through, but the other ships didn't?"

"I assume your question to be a rhetorical one. However, if I were to provide an answer nonetheless, I would say that the difference was you, Jim. Your quick thinking, paired with your tenacity and refusal to believe in no-win situations gave us an advantage the other ships did not have."

The young man nodded, acknowledging the Vulcan's words. "It was a rhetorical question, but thanks." He took a small sip of the scotch, closing his eyes in delight as the liquid burned down his throat. "I can't help but wonder what would have happened if just one of us had been assigned to another ship. Bones, Sulu, Chekov, Uhura... Everyone had a part to play in this victory."

"Lieutenant Uhura had been assigned to the Farragut." At Kirk's surprised look, Spock continued, although he didn't know why he was openly revealing what was very private information. "I had arranged the assignment to avoid the appearance of favouritism."

The other man interjected. "But she was on the Enterprise..."

"Yes. Lieutenant Uhura quickly voiced her displeasure with my decision." He took a sip of his drink to hide a smile that threatened to appear. "She insisted that I review the information, as there was no way she was not boarding the Enterprise." His gaze was fixed on his glass, and the urge to smirk dissipated. "Had Nyota been on the Farragut, had she not confronted me, I... I would have lost so much more than I already have, Jim. I would be lost."

Later, when they'd have spent decades together, Jim felt that he and Spock would look back on this night and see it as a turning point in their relationship.

Now, however, he saw that it was time for a bit of levity. They'd already suffered so much; it would do them no good to continue wallowing in their misery. Before he had the opportunity to speak, though, Spock's voice broke the silence.

"Jim, may I ask how you knew that Lieutenant Uhura was in my quarters, earlier?" The scene had looped through his mind as he'd made his way to the Captain's quarters--he'd smoothed his clothing, tidied his hair and ensured that he'd blocked the view to the room.

Kirk couldn't help but laugh. "Easy, Spock. You had lipstick on your neck."

The Vulcan frowned at having missed such an obvious sign; it just went to show that Nyota had him very distracted.

"Speaking of the lovely Lieutenant," Kirk announced loudly, smacking his open hand on his knee. "Was I right, or was I right?"

Spock looked at him, both eyebrows furrowed at the complete turn of emotions. "I do not follow you. Right about what?"

"How hot Uhura looks in her underwear." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "You did get to that point, right?"

Once again, Spock found himself illogically irritated by the captain's focus on Nyota—perhaps, if prodded, he would concede that there was a tinge of possessiveness to his reaction. Strangely enough, though, it bothered him less than it would have even ten minutes prior. He stared back at the young man, expressionless even for a Vulcan, and took a slow sip of his Glenlivet.

"I do not share my personal experiences with others," he confirmed. Just as Kirk opened his mouth to protest, he continued. "However, if I did share, I would say that Lieutenant Uhura looks much 'hotter' with them off."

This time, he did not fight the smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth. He watched with some degree of amusement as Jim Kirk proceeded to laugh very heartily.

Perhaps his older self wasn't wrong after all.