Thank you to a band of awesome and talented ladies. Your attention to details and support really make a girl smile.
Disclaimer : Still don't own them
Fingers traveled under the stretched and misshapen wool fibers of his sweater. Their owner groaned when she met the jersey knit shirt that blocked her contact with his bare skin.
"Too many clothes." She cooed into his ear - lingering on the pointed tip as she pulled it between her teeth with just enough force to cause a certain level of pleasure filled discomfort. She laughed softly in response to the low growl that emerged from the depths of his belly and out the full lips that she longed to feel caress the soft tissue hidden at her center already singing his song. She ground her hips against his lap, creating friction between her bare bottom and the denim of her jeans. She moaned from the sensation. Her scent was noticeable only to him. It didn't take much to convince him to remove the sweater. His perfectly coifed hair messed as he disrobed.
Briefly she allowed her hands to leave their current mission to twine in the tangled mess of black tresses. The tips of her fingers massaged his scalp. He was a pawn in her game. His head moved as she commanded. Rolling back and forth – side to side. His growl turned to a moan and ignited an inextinguishable fire under the surface of her skin.
"Professor." She whispered into his ear allowing her lips to skim the trace of stubble decorating his pale skin.
"Nyota, I have not acted in the role of your instructor in two years, six months, twenty – eight days, four hours…" Spock paused allowing the corner of his mouth to move into a slight smile, "And seventeen minutes."
"I love it when you go all chronometer on me." Nyota disentangled her limbs from his. A small pout registered on his face. This was when he became her Spock. The one he shielded behind the mask of the stiff lipped Commander.
She stood stretching her arms above her head. The crisp air of the suite caused her body to line in goose bumps. He sensed her discomfort and the warmth of his touch erased the chill she felt only moments before. His right index finger dipped into her belly button as his left hand pushed her shirt up and over her head. Spock's tongue mimicked the motions of that lone finger.
"Your skin is a mouth-watering delicacy k'diwa."
Nyota could only purr. She backed away from his grasp and surveyed the site before her.
"Can I show you my favorite part of your body?" The need for an oral fixation had set in and currently she substituted her finger for a delectable appendage rising to attention from her eyes' examination.
He raised his eyebrow in a familiar gesture. "I believe the two of you are very dear friends."
"You are sadly mistaken beloved." Nyota extended her hand and watched how each enticing inch of his body rose as he stood to face her. His eyes closed as her hands fought with his shirt yet again. She wrestled and finally removed it from his body.
Lightly – intimately – adoringly – Nyota rested her hands on his upper body, "Do you remember the first morning we ran together?"
She watched as he shuffled through image after image in his memory. Finally nodding that he had recalled the day she mentioned.
***
Nyota's mouth loosely hung open, despite years of language study and mastery, words of any dialect escaped her thanks to him. There stood Spock, arms raised to the sky. One hand on the opposite elbow, as it pushed, stretched, and bent the limb down the steep curve of his back. With each movement his t-shirt inched up to reveal a beautiful quarry of fine black hair against pale green skin. The tips of her fingers burned more than the muscles in her thighs. Her body leaned as her hands moved; she hoped to accidentally brush the bare skin and light hair. That sinful thought provoking image of magnificence made her blood flow to places and regions in her body that had remained dormant for far too long.
And like that the peep show ended. Spock's arms returned to his side and he rolled his neck one final time. A missed opportunity and now back to an exercise regimen under false pretenses. She watched as he jogged ahead of her. Next time…
She was emboldened…driven…heated and every supplementary descriptive word that was housed in her arsenal to express what one foretaste of Spock's divinity had done to her body. The trail wound and Spock's pursuit did little to eradicate Nyota's escalating desires. His calves performed like fine tuned, well oiled machines. As one foot rose and the other pounded the ground. His breaths exited the small opening between his lips. The rhythm lulled Nyota deeper into her fantasy. How would his pants register against the back of her neck as he drove into her repeatedly before bringing her to completion? Nyota's step faltered but her body never met the ground. Strong hands gripped her forearms. They released her once balance was regained.
Nyota stood back to catch her breath. She shifted her weight on the balls of her feet. Then allowed her body to stretch starting with each arm, then from side to side at the waist, and she finished with a lunge forward to relieve the pressure that mounted in her upper thighs. He remained still as he admired her movements. His hand slipped under his shirt as he wiped away the sweat that had collected. She took advantage of his momentary lapse and recorded the scene. Above his belly button a sheer layer of black hair. She prayed for x-ray vision. More she needed to see more. His eyes were locked on her. She was his captive. Nyota could not identify the look his eyes held. It was deep, dark, and ablaze. If it was anyone other than Spock she would have thought he was aroused.
Her mind lingered on his gaze. The path grew steeper. Rocks of various shapes and sizes became more abundant. This time when her foot connected with the stony path and traction was lost, her body spiraled out of control. She landed with a thud and her head connected with a smile pile of rocks just off the path. Pain – gut wrenching – stomach turning pain – riddled her body. His voice became an echo as she floated into darkness. The last sight she remembered was the reveal of his glorious chest when he ribbed his t-shirt to wipe the blood spilling from the tiny gash on her temple.
All a girl had to do was sustain a concussion to gain complete visibility of that chest.
***
Nyota stood behind him as she shared her recollection of that day. Her arms loosely circled his waist. She could feel the heat of his skin with every touch. Her hands snaked up his chest caressing his pectorals. She smoothed down the hair that lined the well defined muscles. Nyota placed a chaste kiss in the center of his back as she savored the feel of her body molded to his.
"It was the first time I saw this." Her fingers jetted from the curves above his torso and followed the trail of hair to his belly button and those planes of precise bone peeking from his jeans. "Your happy trail?"
His body tensed and she didn't have to see his face to confirm that the term was unfamiliar to him. Nyota continued to stroke his chest and Spock leaned back in her grasp. He relaxed. Her shoulder supported his head and provided perfect access for her continued musings in his ear.
"This…" Her fingers drifted from the center of his chest, lower until she found the trail way, "Makes my mouth water with possibilities."
"Anticipation implies that there is an action you wish to take." His voice was deeper – riddled with insatiable need.
She retorted with a growl of her own, "More like an indulgence."
Nyota teased him as she delivered soft bites to his skin before she moved to the curve where his neck swept into those broad shoulders that had held her legs as he enjoyed her center. With the thought she bit harder, causing a deep guttural sound to be emitted from her lover's skilled lips. Occupied by their own adventures, her hands slipped inside the band of his jeans. He moved to fumble with the zipper and she smacked his hand.
His snarl turned into a breathless hiss when she grasped his erection through the rigid material. She kept her hand on him as she eased from her current position to stand in front of him. His eyes were black. They glistened just as they had that day on the trail. If she had known then what she knew now?
Nyota shifted, delighted by the sight of him. Unable to maintain the distance between them, Spock crept forward, wrapping her in his arms. The lovers enjoyed the feel of one another's skin. Chest to chest their bodies responded to the contact. Her nipples elongated from his heat. The sheer covering of hair on his upper body stood with the thought of how the night would begin then end only to welcome the new day in the same way.
She buried her head in his chest and inhaled his masculinity, before she stretched to reach his face. On tip – toes, with her neck craned, Nyota brushed her cheek against the stubble that adorned his face. Her lips blazed a trail of kisses from his perfect jaw to his clavicle where she marked him with a promise of a deeper wound shortly.
She allowed the width of her tongue to dance across his chest, pausing only to suckle a nipple. His hands were now entwined in the silk of her hair. He pushed in attempt to force her lower, sooner, than she desired, and her movements ceased. No matter how many times he gripped in an effort to steer her back to his chest. Nyota did not move.
He grunted and cursed before removing his hand to watch her return to the original path. Again her lips pressed against his jaw. Her fingertips chased each motion of her mouth. She delayed further movement for a period of adoration at the base of his neck. Her tongue laved at the Adam's apple that bobbed with each breath swallowed. He hissed hands still gathered in her hair.
Her attentions returned to his chest and then the trail. He was no longer confused or bothered by the term as he felt the excitement build with each taste she took of his skin.
Nyota was amused by his sudden understanding. His clothes were now an afterthought and with his completely naked body at her disposal there was only one place left to explore.
Happy trails to you…
The ancient song filled her head but she was sure that's not what Roy Rogers meant…then again…maybe his wife Dale had a favorite body part too.