Favored

Distantly, Spock considers the wisdom of pacing oneself in the face of such overwhelming pleasure; slowing his movements by only a fraction in a vain attempt to moderate the feeling of being held so snugly within Nyota's exquisite warmth.

He wants to slow down; to savor it.

But everywhere he touches feels like warm silk in his hands. And he can only think of how gorgeous she is kneeling there, on his bed; back arched, thighs slightly parted, a fantasy of luscious brown curves and long graceful limbs.

Letting his head fall forward, he places a kiss between her shoulder blades and breathes in deeply her intoxicating cotton-flower scent. The sound of her low, desperate moans move through him like quicksilver; coiling in his belly and pushing old, lingering doubts away. Before his usually orderly thoughts scatter he reminds himself again to be gentle; even as he deepens his strokes and his grip on her hips tightens almost painfully.

Her body shivers beneath him as his tongue tastes the sweat-slick flesh along the smooth column of her spine. Faintly, he acknowledges the last of his restraint slipping away as he fills her ass in one long, fluid stroke after another.

Nyota's slim, delicate fingers clench soft powder blue sheets as tiny puffs of pleasure tumble from her throat, broadcasting her enjoyment with every thrust.

He is drowning in the smell and the taste and the feel of her. He is almost undone. It seems foolish to resist.

Moving his left hand from her waist to her throat, he pulls her easily off her hands and holds her flush against the lean expanse of his chest.

"Is it good, ashayam?" He pants into her hair.

Nyota can only moan as his hard length continues its delicious assault on her body. Nodding enthusiastically, she draws the plumpness of her bottom lip between her teeth, trying needlessly to stifle the sound.

"Tell me." He orders softly, punctuating the command with two sharp strokes.

"Ungh! Please, god, fuck me!" Nyota demands, breathless in her desire for him.

Spock smiles.

"Ah, such a dirty little mouth." He purrs in his native tongue, slipping two fingers past her already moistened lips. Nyota sucks on them greedily as her eyes drift shut.

Leaning back to balance on his knees, he holds her aloft, pinned against him as he obliges her request. Her moans grow even louder when his right hand moves from her hip to her sweet center.

"Please, harder…" She begs as he swirls slick, nimble fingers around her swollen clit.

He cannot deny her.

Growling low in his throat, Spock moves her thighs wider apart with his own; allowing him greater access. He cannot help but feel it is not enough. Driving in deeper, he is rewarded as her hips begin to match the urgency of his thrusts.

Sinking further into their shared rhythm his breathing becomes labored with the effort it takes to hold on. He wants desperately for her to come; to feel her tighten impossibly around him and coat his length in her slickness. This thought is followed closely by the other darker, more dangerous wishes he has for Nyota. She is so soft, so vulnerable to him, he muses. He knows he could hurt her, mark her body; use her up. And she he would let him. He knows.

That certainty pushes him to slip his fingers from her mouth and back around her throat; tightening as he looses himself in the hot, custom fit pulsing all around him. Her moans are almost pleas now; her sighs ending in near whimpers on every stroke.

It is too much.

He feels his orgasm coming as she clutches at his forearm, warning him not to stop. Her panting and his curses fill the quiet space as his right hand, once more on her hip, becomes bruising and Nyota's spectacular release steals his name from her mouth.

Almost at once he is following her into sparkling, white-hot oblivion, burying his face in the curve of her neck and biting down hard as he plunges into her once, twice, three more times before finally spilling his seed inside her perfect body.

And they remain like that for a few moments as the universe knits back together around them and their respiration drifts back to normal.

Slowly, his characteristic circumspection returns. Like always, he chides himself for being so rough with her, for forgetting himself.

Moving his other hand from her neck to her shoulder, Spock kisses the tender flesh there as he reluctantly withdraws from her warmth. He feels rather then sees her wince and places his lips to her temple in apology. Smiling, though deliciously sore, Nyota runs her fingers through the downy-soft, black hair at his nape in forgiveness.

He should let go of her then; allow her to ease sore muscles and apologize for orchestrating this well-timed little ambush in the first place.

But he doesn't. Instead, he shifts beneath her to lay them both back against the pillows. The low amber light of his sleeping alcove makes her body glow and shamelessly Spock feels his cock swell to life once more at the thought of her chocolatey thighs spread wide around his hips.

Nyota's laugh flutters across his chest as she skims cool fingers down, over his heart and lower still to cradle his thickness while gently teasing the smoldering tip.

"Give me five minutes." She promises, bringing soft hands up again to rest on his hips.

But her sigh is heavy and the smile she gives him softens further on the warm edges of sleep. Drawing her face up to his, he brushes her tousled curls back and kisses her with a sweetness that belies the hunger crackling just below the surface.

Somewhere, the first tortured strains of the ancient Terran song, Auld Lang Syne filter in to them as the Enterprise's Earth-born crew celebrates the new Solar year.

He means to ask her if she intends on them ever rejoining the party. But she is already asleep.

Resting his head against the hard metal edge of the large porthole above the bed, Spock contemplates the starlight until she wakes up.