Hello beautiful people! I have recently become obsessed with Star Trek (I blame Zachary Quinto's sexy eyebrows) and am starting to explore this new realm. I hope that I stuck pretty close to the world, but I know some of you out there are experts, so I'll let you decide. ;) Very, very light sexual content.
Enjoy, MakeMeProud
Nyota chipped at the dark nail polish on her fingers as the away team started to materialize on the pads. Her shoulders slumped in relief as Spock's tall frame started to move off of the elevated disc, his arm pulled in to his chest and his pants splotched with blobs of green blood.
He was hurt, but he was alive. That was all that mattered.
She stepped forward and Spock's uninjured arm reached around her shoulders for support as they walked to the Medical Bay. Her fingers grasped at his hand resting on her shoulder, his unnaturally cold fingers squeezing back reassuringly, and she wrapped her left arm around his waist.
The damage could have been worse, much worse. A broken rib, a sprained ankle, and a fractured forearm later, Spock was released with instructions to take it easy and to rest, or in his case meditate since rest wasn't always a necessity for Vulcans.
After an endless Alpha shift on the bridge, Nyota waited in their shared quarters and pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth. Her fingers twisting restlessly in the sheets below her as her mind raced. What the hell had happened? How had the mission gone so wrong? The planet was supposedly deserted, so why was the away team ambushed mid-way through completing the mission?
There were so many questions, and yet she didn't really care if she got the answers. As long as Spock was safe and alright, she didn't give a rat's ass. The door slide open, shining white light into the dim room and casting Spock's shadow across the floor.
He was tired and hurt. She could tell by the subtle slump in his usually pristine posture and the way he limped forward into the room. Nyota stood and waited, unsure exactly what she should do with herself. Did he want to meditate? Take a shower? She desired to hug him, to kiss every inch of his injured skin to make sure he was truly there and not down on Solarus X, bleeding and in pain. Her fingers shook with the effort of holding them at her sides.
"Spock, are you okay?"
What an illogical question. Of course he wasn't okay, she thought.
"Define 'okay,'" he muttered as he sat on the edge of the bed, letting out a long and soft breath, the Vulcan equivalent of a tired sigh. Nyota stood beside him, her fingers stroking through his dark, silky hair and he sighed once more, content and warm under her the tips of her fingers.
"Are you in pain?" she corrected as she continued her ministrations along his scalp.
"It is tolerable."
The mattress dipped as Nyota sat down and reached to touch the hard plaster of the cast on his arm. Her nails scraped along the harsh texture of the white surface.
"I wore a cast once," she said. "When I broke my ankle. I was climbing a tree and I fell."
Spock had no response so he remained silent.
She thought about asking him about the mission, but as she spared another look at the slumped shoulders and long lines in his face, she decided questions could wait until tomorrow. Instead her hands raised his blue uniform jersey over his head, both of them fumbling and careful not to jostle his cast as he slipped his arm through. The tight wrappings around his chest seemed so out of place, but she diligently reapplied more tape and bent down to help him with his boots. She kissed each ankle lovingly, especially the braced one, and then leaned forward between his legs to press a gentle kiss against his lips.
"I'm glad you are safe, beloved," she whispered against his lips in Vulcan and pressed her palms into the top of his still-clothed thighs.
"As am I, k'diwa." His hand cupped the back of her neck and brought her closer, their mouths moving in sync as her fingers traced the edge of his jaw line. He started to lean backwards until the kiss was broken and Nyota watched as he scooted farther up the bed.
Amusement pulled the corners of her mouth up into a smile. "Spock, you're injured."
"Then proceed with caution," he said, his dry humor punctuated by his raised eyebrow.
Nyota shook her head in exasperation, but who was she to turn down the love of her life? There lips met again and she rocked gently into him, shedding the rest of her clothes and, gently rising herself above him, lowered herself until they became one.
Their pants and moans filled the room as they joined together, hands intertwined and feelings leaking into each other. Nyota smoothed her hand over his body lovingly as she looked down into his eyes. She couldn't imagine her life with out being able to look into those deep brown eyes, to feel his overheated hands hold her to him. A tear slipped out of her eye as she recalled how she almost lost him down on the rocky planet, and Spock smeared the tear against her cheek.
"Nyota, I am safe." His voice was so soft. She choked on the lump in her throat as her eyes burned.
"I know," she whispered.
She lowered her head and brought there lips together once more, her hair fanning on the pillows around his head. She couldn't remember a time when she had felt so safe, tucked into the side of her Vulcan mate and basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking.
Nyota knew tomorrow would bring new challenges, new complications, but in this moment they were both safe, wrapped around each other, unwilling to let go. She gave in to the drowsiness clinging to her subconscious, nuzzling further into hot skin, and submerged into the sweet blackness of sleep.