A bit of green on green action. Beware: bittersweet, not funny like my other stories. What if Uhura is too good, too shy, and loses something dear? Spock/Gaila + Uhura.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything about this. Seriously. I deny I even had these thoughts.
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Nyota had been secretive, quiet, keeping her feelings under very tight wraps, even after terrible poking and prodding from Gaila. Her roommate could tell there was someone on Nyota's mind, and she called her prude and goody-two-shoes for not even sharing a name. But after a couple of months Gaila finally gave up, leaving Nyota to her delicious fantasies.
No one knew—could know—how she felt for her professor and friend. Not even him. She was too shy to move on those feelings yet. Too afraid of what might be, or not be.
It might take her a long time.
A really, really long time. A love like glaciers moving.
But someday she would tell Spock. And in her mind he would respond with loving touches, kisses, and even lust. Some days her fantasies were pretty, full of happy and relieved contact and declarations. Other days were full of dark scenes of having him, pinned on his desk, feeling him struggle, hard against her while she pulled off his clothes, sucking him in his office chair, feeling his fingers. On those days she was mortified at her own thoughts and redoubled her significant efforts to hide. But she couldn't help watching him move, write, drink, walk. Watching him closely. Only when she was sure he could not know.
And he didn't.
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It was impossible not to notice the girl in the front row of his class. If he could articulate it in his mind, the words he'd use might be alarming, shining, lush. Green. The color of a Vulcan's life blood. And his Human half was not immune.
Over the next couple of months he became used to seeing her in the front row, but never inured to her beauty. He deliberately stayed away from her, because he knew she'd be able to feel how he felt. He carefully made sure to talk to the other students after class, to make himself scarce, and in the process was happy to find a friend, Nyota. An intelligent and sweet girl who loved languages like he did, a rare treat.
He visited Nyota's room one day to borrow a book—an old-fashioned hard copy book she wanted to share with him. He was dismayed to realize Gaila was her roommate, and relieved she was not home. He sat on her bed in misery and when Nyota was not looking he stole a touch of the pillow. He went home disgusted with himself and redoubled his efforts to stay away.
But it was almost too easy to talk to her one day after class, ask her to see him in his office. If he'd admit it, he was afraid and utterly unsure what cliff he was jumping off of. He seemed to be doing everything without benefit of his brain. An autonomic mating initiative? He began talking to her about something, anything, and while he talked came close to her. Walked behind her to look at a shared PADD so that his mouth was close to her ear. He breathed, and had to do nothing more.
She knew desire. There was no need to awkwardly make it clear. She turned to him—very, very close to his suddenly dry mouth—and ran one long, green finger with its shining fingernail down his face and jaw. He was paralyzed.
She whispered, vixenish, "Professor, I thought nothing could disturb your control."
Never touching, but just centimeters from her body, he sank the length of her and into his office chair. His voice came out wrong, harsh, barely there. "Extreme feminine beauty is always disturbing." She stood over him, straddled his leg, and whispered a time. He knew where she lived.
He did as he was told.
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When Spock arrived at her room that night she soundlessly opened the door and drew him in. She knew he was deeply and dramatically out of his element. Usually imposing and serene, he now seemed lost. She looked in his eyes, and he was curious, desiring, scared. She gently took his hand and pulled him to her bed.
She was soft with him. She reached out and touched his face, every part of it, until he stopped feeling fear and began to melt. He responded by leaning his face against her green hands asking for more. She moved to kiss him and ran her tongue along his neck, biting him, licking him. Finally he responded, fell into her kiss and dug into her with his own.
They went from gently saying hello to seething in seconds. She had the most exemplary breasts. He had suspected as much. And when she removed her bra his mind stumbled. His hand moved down into her lacy panties, and he found he knew what to do. Strange. She pulled at his clothes while driving against his hand. His fingers were so delicate, his motions so precise, her brain fell out. She was stunned by an orgasm that came out of nowhere, simply from his fingers and breath. That's so weird.
She was surprised by how gorgeous he was. She was brilliant, and attracted to such brilliance in such a lovely body. She'd never had a chance to be with a Vulcan, of course, there would never be a full-on Vulcan who would want her or find this acceptable behavior. She had expected something interesting. She'd expected to enjoy letting a repressed guy out of his cage. But not this strong attraction. She wanted him. And she wanted to see him do things.
She lay back and drew him on top, moving him into an unfamiliar position. He went along, breathless and curious. He straddled her body and she guided his hard cock between her breasts. Her incredible breasts, the lushest breasts, the ones he noticed the first day he saw her, the ones he'd fantasized about with more abandon than he'd ever admit. There he was between them. With her hands she locked herself close around him and he began to move. With the first thrust he whined and shook and had to stop, but then he continued, moving slowly in her softness. He reached to touch her face.
When he brushed her mind it was shocking.
There was a lightning strike of hot embarrassment and pain that instantly found its ground. Feelings of isolation shot back and forth between them, of being alien or worse half-alien, of being other. The raw feeling of awkwardness and shame at being too hot, too cold. For her to be so outwardly full of lust. Slut. She heard the Human word in her mind, and he responded with a thought. Machine. He with strong feelings, too, but turned inward, controlled. They were a balanced equation.
So logical it sang.
The accompanying physical sensations became blinding, and he cried out her name. Bucking on top of her, pouring out over her.
Seconds later they lay in each other's arms, their eyes locked, astounded by the unexpected joining. She had never been so serious, tender, final. He had never been so vulnerable and accepted. The isolation had poured out of both of them and was lost. It was powerful and frightening. And then they shared that power and fear too, and it deepened and deepened.
No going back. No possible other way, ever.
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Nyota was asleep, so deep in her covers and so quiet no one knew she was there. She had fallen asleep reading and was drawn half awake by the sound of her roommate bringing yet another guy home. Often she would vacate the room, disgusted or at least modest. This time she was so sleepy she decided not to care. Anyway, Gaila was being so surprisingly quiet. Only the soft sound of the bed allowing two people to sit, to entwine, to lay back. Oh so gently. Her mind softly wandered. Perhaps someday it would be her bringing a beautiful man here. The one she dreamed of.
Sigh.
But quickly things got steamier and louder, and soon she questioned her decision to stay. She could have ducked out. Should have. She hid, silent. The atmosphere got strangely intense. What she was hearing was not for the shy, or for the lovesick. It was fast and serious.
Nyota had become a forced connoisseur of her roommate's reactions, and she was surprised when Gaila came so soon. In fact, she could virtually hear Gaila's own surprise. Then it was his turn for some love, whoever he was, the man who could make Gaila climax so fast. He was tearing into her somehow, everything shaking and falling off end tables, while he clearly tried to hold back and get more, more.
And then she heard it. Gaila's name called out.
The voice was dark and different, but it was clearly one she knew. The one she knew, like she knew the sound of breath in her own body. The one she'd listened to intently and dreamily for months, in several languages, his tongue doing things to her he never realized. It was a trick of sound, a mistake that was so utterly impossible. She peeked out from under her covers.
And was slammed with pain to her chest and stomach. She saw him on Gaila, above her, his body even more lovely than she'd imagined. He was crashing into orgasm, falling on her roommate, who was singing under him in a new, different, aching way.
He lay down next to Gaila, and they looked into each other's deep eyes. This was not the silly or dismissive relief of a one-night stand. This was something. Something big and important and fundamental, and it made Nyota's shredded insides turn. She had waited too long. Neither of them knew how she felt, and now they'd found each other.
Nyota watched while they fell in love. Right before her eyes, she lost him.
