Orion Options Online is the brainchild of the ever amazing hopeful addict; it is used here with her gracious permission. The ideas Spock espouses about why he's willing to try what Ny has proposed in this chapter come from Tales From the Spockside and are used here with her gracious permission.

I regret the length of time it has taken me to complete this fic; real life became quite the taskmaster recently. I will continue to play in the Flenderson corner of the ST 'verse, but will take a little time to read fanfic and see Iron Man 2 fifty times before I return.

Thanks again to my support team at Writers Anonymous, my ever patient and wonderful beta, miss steph, and everyone who has joined me in this crazy story.

Part Thirteen of Thirteen: Without a Net

These are words to live by at all times: Experiment, talk, love, live, learn.
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"A swing," he said, again. His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes were fixed on the contraption hanging from a hook in the ceiling of my quarters.

"A love swing," I corrected.

"I believe that a swing is traditionally used by Human children for recreation and exercise."

I planted my hands on my naked hips. "Spock, does that look like something that Human children would use?"

He continued staring at it – at the sturdy central support, the series of silky ropes and fur-lined harnesses – and said, "No."

"And I'm naked," I pointed out – because he hadn't really looked at me since arriving.

"I had noticed that, yes," he said, his attention still on the swing but his voice a little less silky than usual.

"This kind of swing will allow us to experience sexual positions that would not be otherwise possible and will provide us a more comfortable sexual experience by reducing the effects of gravity."

He looked at me with tipped head and quirked eyebrow.

"Or so I'm to understand," I muttered, my hands falling to my sides.

From the video Gaila made me watch.

And the test she made me take.

I got an eighty-four.

Point five.

She gave me partial credit on the essay question.

"So you wish to employ this swing-."

"Love swing."

"In our lovemaking."

I nodded eagerly – the video made it look beyond great: Everybody was swinging and laughing and having a grand old time with their clothes on; I could just imagine what it was going to be like with both of us naked – then remembered our agreement and schooled my features. "But only if you want to; after all, we do have the mutual spiciness pact."

"Yes. The pact," he said, looking at my chest, then at my face, then back at the swing. "It would be a fascinating experiment."

I wasn't sure that he meant the same thing I meant.

"What do you mean by that?"

"In the influence of gravity and motion on the activity you are proposing."

Nope. It's like we're speaking a different language.

"So you are willing to try the swing."

"As an experiment."

"And nothing else?" I chided gently. "You've been happy with the other, ahem, experiments I've introduced lately."

He met my eyes; his were glittering, more black than brown. "I have."

"And so…."

"I wish to state that I am amenable to this course of experimentation."

"Oh you're amenable are you?" I teased, swinging up on my toes. "You're ready to experiment are you?"

"Very much so," he said.

"And how shall we proceed, Doctor Spock?"

"Carefully and with great deliberation," he said, grasping my hips in his warm fingers and pulling me into his lean frame. He stared into my eyes for several heady seconds before he tipped his head, captured my mouth and proceeded to get very bossy with my lips and tongue.

Two days. It'd been two days since we'd been able to be alone for longer than a few minutes and it was very obvious that he'd felt the separation as keenly as I had.

I got bossy back at him, then started tearing at his uniform – to no avail.

"Seriously," I ground out, pulling my head away from his and concentrating on rending the cloth that was separating me from his skin, "does Kirk special order his uniforms?"

Spock's fingers had migrated to my ass, where he was swirling shapes on the sensitive underside of the cheeks; he said, "I do not understand the query."

I gave up trying to rip and started pushing at his shirt – trying to get it off of him. He didn't cooperate at all – just continued along with his addictive movements.

With the willpower of my warrior ancestors, I focused and answered him. "No matter what's happening, his uniform ends up shredded and we have to see his bare chest." I suppressed a shiver – we'd all seen our captain half-naked a little too often in the recent past.

"I am at a loss as to how this is pertinent to our current activities."

"Because your stupid uniform will not come off," I growled, trying to force his arms upright. "And Kirk's will not stay on. I want to know where he gets his from so I can order a dozen. It would make things so much easier."

"I do not wish to discuss Captain Kirk's clothing," he said, completely ignoring my desire to strip him naked; instead, he dragged his fingers up the length of my spine and wove them into my hair; he tipped my head back. My suddenly nerveless fingers fell from his body and I stared at him. He lowered his mouth to within millimeters – fractions of millimeters – of mine and said, "I wish to kiss you again."

"O-," I got out before he swallowed the K in a languorous kiss, a deep kiss that put him in complete command of my mouth and senses; all thoughts of anyone who wasn't him fled from my head. He pressed down into my mouth, taking what he wanted from me and I murmured sounds of approval into the warm wetness of his mouth. He answered by bearing down even harder, bowing my body back over his arm, and delving into my mouth at will.

My fingers tangled in the hem of his shirt and I tried to remain both upright and conscious – two things that grew increasingly challenging as he continued exploring my mouth with breathtaking thoroughness and concentration – until he removed his lips from mine and the world tipped around me. My head spinning from the combination of his kisses and the sudden gravitational switch, I blinked stupidly at him for several seconds before realizing I was cradled in his arms.

"Uh," I said.

He raised his eyebrows at me and placed me into the swing, taking care to line me up with the harnesses and stirrups, guiding the ropes around my wrists. Finished, he stepped back.

"How'd you-?" I started, my mind spinning, my fingers tightening against the silky material that was holding me – suspending me off the floor.

Maybe he'd seen an instructional vid, too.

My very own kinky Vulcan.

"It is a basic harness-stirrup construction," he said conversationally as he began to strip his uniform off. "Quite logical."

I nodded, concentrating all of the lovely Spock skin being exposed.

Bare, he stepped between my legs and looked me over, a calculating gleam lighting his eyes. I was completely exposed to him like this – open to whatever he could think of. Excitement and tension uncoiled in my stomach.

"Are you quite secure?" he asked and I knew he meant in the swing even though his eyes fixed on my wrists.

"Completely," I said. Surprisingly I was being completely honest – even though just a few pieces of rope and material were keeping me from falling, they felt strong and sturdy beneath my torso and around my wrists and ankles. I gripped the ropes more tightly and pulled myself up a little so I could seeall of him – feet to head. He groaned slightly. "You really do like bondage, don't you?" I teased, twisting the ropes more securely around my wrists. "Even if it's just the illusion of bondage."

"I cannot disagree with that assessment," he said as he stepped forward and wrapped his hands around my rib cage and brushed his thumbs across the undersides of my breasts.

"Kinky Spock," I grinned.

"Exquisite Nyota," he murmured.

I closed my legs around his waist, pulling him towards me, reveling in the fact that I'd gotten the height exactly right – his pertinent parts were lined up neatly with mine.

His eyes darkened, hardened and he lightly dragged his nails down the length of my torso, leaving sensitized flesh in their wake; I dug my heels into his flanks, briefly wishing that I'd thought to wear heels…or my boots. Then he stepped away from me and dropped to his knees and all thought of footwear evaporated. He suckled and sucked and licked and laved until I was keening, my head thrown back, my hands digging into the ropes with such ferocity I was sure they would snap. He left me suspended at the edge, panting and pleading, and stood – utterly composed and calm, the only sign that what he'd just done had affected him the jutting and straining flesh between his legs.

"Nyota," he said, calling me to focus on his face, the hard lines, the parted lips, the melting eyes. He directed my legs up, kissing the inside of each ankle before guiding them to rest on his shoulders.

His hands roamed over my torso – cupping, flicking, pinching – until I was begging again, pleading with him in gasps and curses and whimpers; finally, when I thought I could truly take no more, he cupped his hands under my ass and pressed the harness up, pressing the soft fur into my skin and held me easily. I stared at him until he said, "You will take me," in a voice that held the authority of The Professor, the power of The Commander and, best of all, the desire of Spock.

You betcha.

Then he moved forward and in with one endless fluid, commanding motion. My head fell back so my hair brushed the floor and I let out an endless keen. The video had been wrong because I sure as hell didn't feel like laughing. No, I felt like whimpering, moaning, screaming – but all I could do was make animal sounds of amazement as he began to move in me, taking me at an angle and depth we'd never achieved before.

The friction of him inside me, the slip of the silk, the brushing of the fur all served to pitch me higher.

Ah! Bigger, bigger, more, more, I can't, I can, I am, goodgoodgood….

And he was growing impossibly bigger, harder, moremoremoremore until, howling, howling, a formless sound of pleasure he filled me more than he ever had before. I mewled and shattered into bits of stardust.

I was still swinging gently when I was aware again. Spock was still buried inside me, his fingers gripping my hips, his eyes fixed on my face. I could feel him dwindling inside my still-pulsing heat; I tightened around him, refusing to let him leave my body. He pulled me up and out of the swing and collapsed to the floor with me on top of him; he was all angles and bone and hard muscle and he broke my fall, not cushioned it.

"My Nyota," he said, kissing my forehead. "My Nyota;" but I would have none of that – of gentle kisses - I was starving for his mouth. The swing was wonderful and amazing, but it didn't allow for kissing and I adored kissing him. I yanked his lips to mine, tasting and touching every millimeter of the delectable flesh.

I twined my arms and legs around him, holding him close, holding him inside – dwindled but still warm and wonderful – of me as his fingers reached for my pulse points. I leaned into his fingers and fell into his mind – a glowing, shining place – all pink and gold.

I gasped, my mouth falling away from his. This was so clear, so intimate – I didn't need anything else at the moment.

Wow, I ventured.

Imprecise but accurate, he replied.

Wow! I said again, and his form of laughter swirled around me in sparkling curlicues. I floated amongst them for a long while, basking in the vibrations that sparked between us. I think I had an out of body experience that time.

It was a most enjoyable experience.

A palatable spice?

In a manner of speaking, he said.

Or thinking, I joked.

There were more curlicues.

This item belongs to Lieutenant Gaila?

She cleaned it. Thoroughly, I clarified. And so did I. Several times.

I trust that you would have done so, he said, practically interrupting. I was merely querying as to the ownership, not the cleanliness, of the item.

Oh. OH! You liked it. You want one for our very own.

It was a most…useful item.

I preened – a little aqua color bleeding into our shared consciousness.

I would not be adverse to using a similar item in the future.

I preened even more. So, you've been a fan of all of the spices I've wanted you to try.

I cannot dispute that.

I love it when I'm right.

In this place, wryness evidenced as tan streaks – even his words were tan – as he said, The experiments have been fascinating.

Just admit I was right.

I am not disagreeing with you.

Say it, Spock. Say the words: Nyota was right.

Pink and tan from him – aqua from me.

Nyota, I wish to share something with you.

Is it about how right I was? How right I am? How right I always will be? How you're in awe of my complete and utter rightne….

I am…happy, he said, interrupting again.

And that stopped me.

Happy? I said. Happy?

Yes, he said simply.

I didn't know you could say that word – even in your head.

There were waves and curlicues, more Vulcan laughter. I am permitted certain freedoms here that I am not elsewhere. As you have said, there is only you and I here.

And here you're happy.

Infinitely so.

Because I'm smart and spicy and loving and wonderful and…

All of those things and many more, he said,

And right. I'm so very, very right.

There was a hot-pink tinge – amusement. Nyota, you can be very challenging.

I added my own hot-pink tinge, I like that you are happy. I'm happy, too – sickeningly so. I don't things could be more perfect than they are right now.

You do not?

How could they be? I asked, because I really couldn't fathom anything better than simply being with him.

There was a pause, like a sudden gust of wind, and there was a subtle change in our place – some of the bright colors bled a little, softening and fading.

Spock?

He gently withdrew.

I blinked and pulled myself back into the room and focused on his face. "What?"

His eyes flickered over me for a moment and, if I didn't know better, I would've sworn I'd seen disappointment in them – then he snapped back to his usual, composed self. "I was experiencing physical discomfort."

I shifted, finally releasing him from my body and sliding off of him so I could lie plastered next to him, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, my left leg thrown over his thighs. "Better?"

"Very much so."

I kissed the skin beneath my mouth, then shifted again, situating myself so I could see his face. "I'm happy that you are happy."

"I am pleased that you are also content."

"Sickeningly so," I clarified, snuggling into his chest, breathing deeply for a blissful second before I remembered that look on his face. I looked at him searchingly, but there was no indication that he was discomfited. Still…the withdrawal, the look. "You're sure there's nothing else you want from me?"

What the hell are you doing, Nyota Shoekiller Uhura?

Even my subconscious sounded like Gaila.

I know what I'm doing. Don't worry. I need to make sure everything's okay.

Let him be. Don't push this! Girl, do not mess this up!

I won't!

"Perhaps an experiment, a spiciness if you will, with clothing suitable for a performer of a specific variety," he said after several seconds of silence.

All was well – I had imagined the disappointment.

"If you mean a dancing girl's outfit," I grinned, "I ordered it yesterday - ."

Thank you, Orion Options Online.

"I look forward to that experiment."

"And I was thinking I might add one of these to the order." I tipped my head back and looked at the apparatus swaying gently above our heads. "I can get Gaila to hack into the order and update it – everything should arrive at the same time."

"While I cannot condone such an action, I must confess that I look forward to the delivery of your order."

I snuggled closer to him, trying to soak up his body heat. "Me, too. So, you're happy, huh?" I asked.

His arms tightened around me and he kissed my hair, "Completely."

Doctor Flenderson, you rock. Monogamy rocks. Spock rocks!

~~The story will continue~~