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Someday, and the Rest of Your Life Chapter 8: (Spock/Uhura)
Title:Someday, and the Rest of Your Life
Paring: Spock/Uhura
Summary: When the Enterprise receives a distress call from a Vulcan rescue vessel, Spock finds himself confronted by his past, and he must choose whether to uphold Vulcan traditions or find his own way.
Rating: NC-17
A/N: First of all, the story does in fact earn an NC-17 rating in this chapter. Secondly, I’ve been doing some research for a different story on what Uhura’s cultural background may be. However I figured why not use some of my research for this story too. Anyway, for my own purposes I’ve decided that her father was Meru, and her mother Maasai. I only mention it because the Maasai, who I mention in this chapter, aren’t Bantu. If your curious about the sort of music I’m referencing you can find it here.
Previous chapters can be found here.
Nyota could feel the sand of the beach come up over the tip of her sandals to tickle her toes. She closed her eyes and threw her head back to let the wind blow through her hair, twisting it with the red linen drapes of her dress.
In the distance she could hear the songs of the Maasai, her mother’s people. There were no drums, no instruments other than human voice, the only rhythm they needed. And yet there was something missing. As if there was one voice too few to complete the harmony. She followed the beach, heading toward the distant voices, eager to join in the singing.
A gong sounded in the distance, and Nyota paused. It was alien, unfamiliar to her, and yet it called to her. Curious she turned away from the signing to follow the sound of the strange gong instead.
She stepped through a red stone archway into a great circle, almost like a small arena, carved out of the same red stone. In the center of the circle there was a pillar, and from the pillar hung the gong she had heard. Spock stood in front of it dressed in dark Vulcan robes.
He turned to face her and stretched out his hand, offering her the striker. She stepped forward to receive it.
They were in a room. Dark, unknowable. Not that Nyota was thinking about it. All she was aware of was the feel of Spock’s skin against hers, his body as it moved on top of hers. She could feel her nipples rub against his chest as he slowly thrust into her.
She reached up to close her fingers around one of his ears, her nails grazing the tender skin as she brought his head down to kiss her. Their lips met, gently at first, then with more force as they both gave into the passion.
Spock’s hand found her free one and pressed it back against the mattress, twining his fingers with hers. As he did so she could feel him, feel his desperate need not just with her flesh, but with her mind. She tried to fill that need, to give him everything she had, even if it was only her own desire.
Then suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Something was covering her face. She struggled to pull it away, but something held her from behind. Her mind flashed awake, but it didn’t make the world any clearer. She was released and yanked the thing from her face.
It was only as she saw the mask fall to the floor that she remembered: the Nightingale, her injuries. Somewhere there was a canister. More of the medicine that kept her lungs clear, but a coughing fit overtook her and she couldn’t think where she had put it.
Then Spock was there, kneeling in front of her, replacing the canister and holding the mask back up to her face. She took a few deep breaths before taking the mask from him, and slipping the strap back around her head.
He got up, and sat beside her on the bed. He put one arm around her, hugging her to his chest, while he used the index and middle finger of his other hand to stroke her temple. As he did so he sent soothing thoughts to her, filling her mind with calm saying in his own silent way, ‘I am here. It is all right.’
She pressed her cheek against his chest, happy to accept the comfort he offered. She drew her legs up laying them in his lap, wishing to curl up against him. She was mildly surprised to find his erection pressing against the side of her thigh.
Back at the Academy, it had usually been Spock who would initiate physical contact, but only with the lightest of touches. He would place his hand on her shoulder, letting his thumb work back and forth on her skin, or take her hand in his, wrapping his fingers around hers in the traditional Vulcan manner. But it was always Nyota who pushed things to a more overtly sexual level.
That’s when she realized that the dream she’d been having hadn’t been hers alone. The beginning and the end, certainly could have come from her subconscious, but the middle, she had never been in that place before, and it had been so specific, and now that she thought of it, so very Vulcan.
After they had fallen asleep they must have naturally ended up touching, initiating a telepathic bond between them. The bed was almost too small to allow for anything else.
She looked up at his face. It was serene as he continued to try and project soothing thoughts to her. She knew better though. Even if she hadn’t felt the need in the dream, she knew that there was a lot more than simple physical desire bottled up inside of him.
She pushed gently against his chest until they were both lying side by side on the bed. He looked at her curiously. Through the slight telepathic connection he could tell she was up to something, but he didn’t know what.
She simply pillowed her head on his chest and rested one hand on his stomach, allowing him, for the moment to believe that this was all she wanted. His fingers began to trace the contour of her ear and then to run down her jaw and up again.
She let her hand move lower, undoing the zipper of his pants.
“Nyota,” he protested the moment her intention became clear. “You are in no condition for that form of intimacy. It will most likely cause you further respiratory distress.”
She tilted her head up at him and removed her hand, but only so that she could place it on his lips to silence him. ‘Trust me,’ she tried to tell him with her eyes.
Her hand moved back to its earlier task, releasing his cock from the confines of his pants. She made an O with her index finger and thumb and encircled the base of his cock. Then her hand slid slowly up its silky shaft. When she reached the top, she ran her thumb over the tip. She could feel him shudder beneath her. Gently she began to stroke him. After a few strokes she added her middle finger to the circle which brought a full moan from Spock. As she continued to gently stoke him she kept adding fingers until her entire hand encircled him.
He held her closer and he moaned her name into her hair. She could practically feel him vibrating with need. Through his touches she knew how much he was giving over to her, even with such a simple act. She could feel the pleasure building in him and it was no surprise to her when he came, her name on his lips.
For a few minutes they lay there, silent, Spock’s heavier breathing the only sound. Then he began to stroke her hair again and whispered, “I missed you too.”
Nyota almost giggled, except it turned into more of half cough. He looked at her with concern, as if he was worried he had some how harmed her. She only shook her head, and wondered if he could see her smile through the mask.
He had never before acknowledged that he actually thought about sex other than when they were actually doing it. It wasn’t anything he said, specifically, just a manner of aloofness he maintained, as if he was doing the whole thing just for her benefit. His passion when they did make love told her otherwise, as did the telepathic touches he couldn’t help but give her. Even so he never referenced it.
Still it was nice for once to hear him admit that he thought about her, even if he did it in a round about way. It was just lucky for him that she found Vulcan understatement so endearing.
Paring: Spock/Uhura
Summary: When the Enterprise receives a distress call from a Vulcan rescue vessel, Spock finds himself confronted by his past, and he must choose whether to uphold Vulcan traditions or find his own way.
Rating: NC-17
A/N: First of all, the story does in fact earn an NC-17 rating in this chapter. Secondly, I’ve been doing some research for a different story on what Uhura’s cultural background may be. However I figured why not use some of my research for this story too. Anyway, for my own purposes I’ve decided that her father was Meru, and her mother Maasai. I only mention it because the Maasai, who I mention in this chapter, aren’t Bantu. If your curious about the sort of music I’m referencing you can find it here.
Previous chapters can be found here.
Nyota could feel the sand of the beach come up over the tip of her sandals to tickle her toes. She closed her eyes and threw her head back to let the wind blow through her hair, twisting it with the red linen drapes of her dress.
In the distance she could hear the songs of the Maasai, her mother’s people. There were no drums, no instruments other than human voice, the only rhythm they needed. And yet there was something missing. As if there was one voice too few to complete the harmony. She followed the beach, heading toward the distant voices, eager to join in the singing.
A gong sounded in the distance, and Nyota paused. It was alien, unfamiliar to her, and yet it called to her. Curious she turned away from the signing to follow the sound of the strange gong instead.
She stepped through a red stone archway into a great circle, almost like a small arena, carved out of the same red stone. In the center of the circle there was a pillar, and from the pillar hung the gong she had heard. Spock stood in front of it dressed in dark Vulcan robes.
He turned to face her and stretched out his hand, offering her the striker. She stepped forward to receive it.
They were in a room. Dark, unknowable. Not that Nyota was thinking about it. All she was aware of was the feel of Spock’s skin against hers, his body as it moved on top of hers. She could feel her nipples rub against his chest as he slowly thrust into her.
She reached up to close her fingers around one of his ears, her nails grazing the tender skin as she brought his head down to kiss her. Their lips met, gently at first, then with more force as they both gave into the passion.
Spock’s hand found her free one and pressed it back against the mattress, twining his fingers with hers. As he did so she could feel him, feel his desperate need not just with her flesh, but with her mind. She tried to fill that need, to give him everything she had, even if it was only her own desire.
Then suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Something was covering her face. She struggled to pull it away, but something held her from behind. Her mind flashed awake, but it didn’t make the world any clearer. She was released and yanked the thing from her face.
It was only as she saw the mask fall to the floor that she remembered: the Nightingale, her injuries. Somewhere there was a canister. More of the medicine that kept her lungs clear, but a coughing fit overtook her and she couldn’t think where she had put it.
Then Spock was there, kneeling in front of her, replacing the canister and holding the mask back up to her face. She took a few deep breaths before taking the mask from him, and slipping the strap back around her head.
He got up, and sat beside her on the bed. He put one arm around her, hugging her to his chest, while he used the index and middle finger of his other hand to stroke her temple. As he did so he sent soothing thoughts to her, filling her mind with calm saying in his own silent way, ‘I am here. It is all right.’
She pressed her cheek against his chest, happy to accept the comfort he offered. She drew her legs up laying them in his lap, wishing to curl up against him. She was mildly surprised to find his erection pressing against the side of her thigh.
Back at the Academy, it had usually been Spock who would initiate physical contact, but only with the lightest of touches. He would place his hand on her shoulder, letting his thumb work back and forth on her skin, or take her hand in his, wrapping his fingers around hers in the traditional Vulcan manner. But it was always Nyota who pushed things to a more overtly sexual level.
That’s when she realized that the dream she’d been having hadn’t been hers alone. The beginning and the end, certainly could have come from her subconscious, but the middle, she had never been in that place before, and it had been so specific, and now that she thought of it, so very Vulcan.
After they had fallen asleep they must have naturally ended up touching, initiating a telepathic bond between them. The bed was almost too small to allow for anything else.
She looked up at his face. It was serene as he continued to try and project soothing thoughts to her. She knew better though. Even if she hadn’t felt the need in the dream, she knew that there was a lot more than simple physical desire bottled up inside of him.
She pushed gently against his chest until they were both lying side by side on the bed. He looked at her curiously. Through the slight telepathic connection he could tell she was up to something, but he didn’t know what.
She simply pillowed her head on his chest and rested one hand on his stomach, allowing him, for the moment to believe that this was all she wanted. His fingers began to trace the contour of her ear and then to run down her jaw and up again.
She let her hand move lower, undoing the zipper of his pants.
“Nyota,” he protested the moment her intention became clear. “You are in no condition for that form of intimacy. It will most likely cause you further respiratory distress.”
She tilted her head up at him and removed her hand, but only so that she could place it on his lips to silence him. ‘Trust me,’ she tried to tell him with her eyes.
Her hand moved back to its earlier task, releasing his cock from the confines of his pants. She made an O with her index finger and thumb and encircled the base of his cock. Then her hand slid slowly up its silky shaft. When she reached the top, she ran her thumb over the tip. She could feel him shudder beneath her. Gently she began to stroke him. After a few strokes she added her middle finger to the circle which brought a full moan from Spock. As she continued to gently stoke him she kept adding fingers until her entire hand encircled him.
He held her closer and he moaned her name into her hair. She could practically feel him vibrating with need. Through his touches she knew how much he was giving over to her, even with such a simple act. She could feel the pleasure building in him and it was no surprise to her when he came, her name on his lips.
For a few minutes they lay there, silent, Spock’s heavier breathing the only sound. Then he began to stroke her hair again and whispered, “I missed you too.”
Nyota almost giggled, except it turned into more of half cough. He looked at her with concern, as if he was worried he had some how harmed her. She only shook her head, and wondered if he could see her smile through the mask.
He had never before acknowledged that he actually thought about sex other than when they were actually doing it. It wasn’t anything he said, specifically, just a manner of aloofness he maintained, as if he was doing the whole thing just for her benefit. His passion when they did make love told her otherwise, as did the telepathic touches he couldn’t help but give her. Even so he never referenced it.
Still it was nice for once to hear him admit that he thought about her, even if he did it in a round about way. It was just lucky for him that she found Vulcan understatement so endearing.