Title: The Campaign

Author: Linstock

Code: Spock/Uhura

Rating: NC-17

Type: One Shot.

Summary: Never say never to Nyota Uhura, as Spock finds out.

AU: This was written in response to an old challenge by Recumbentgoat I stumbled over while surfing. In the spirit of better late than never my muse got cracking. The challenge is TOS but I have assumed that there is already a well established relationship between Spock and Uhura. It seemed to me that sex on the bridge would only occur with some "provocation". Let the provocation begin.

I can not thank my beta readers enough. They were outstanding when patiently and gently correcting my numerous gramma and spelling bloopers and suggesting improvements. I have a lot to learn and can not thank The Night Was Moist and AtanaM enough for their generosity. The errors are all my own work.

This is my first attempt at writing naughtiness so please be gentle. Comments and constructive criticism are very welcome.

The Campaign

For four long weeks, pirates have been harrying the Enterprise and we have sustained some serious damage. On top of that, half the crew has come down with some alien malady and every able-bodied crewmember has been working extra time and split shifts. Due to clashing schedules, Spock and I haven't been alone together long enough to do more than touch in passing.

When I suggested a way to remedy this sad state of affairs, Mr. I-Am-In-Control-of-My-Hormones gave me an officious, smug little lecture about duty, professionalism, and the danger of allowing oneself to be distracted in times of crisis. Evidently, the needs of the many outweigh the urges of the two, or something like that.

It was quite undeserved. All I had done was make a simple observation that we were both going to be on the graveyard shift on the bridge tomorrow. With the helmsman needing a break at some point, we would be alone for at least 30 minutes. I openly mused that perhaps we could put those minutes to "good use", and perhaps even record our activities for future reflection and private recreational purposes. In response, he gave me this "I cannot believe what you are saying" look and a lecture. It seems that my suggestion was something that was completely irresponsible, something that he would never even consider.

Well, we will just see about that.

I know a thing or two about Mr. In-Control. Oh, I could write a book, let me tell you. I know he is feeling this abstinence every bit as much as me. Just because he's all po-faced about it does not mean he isn't feeling the lack of wall banging, ear biting, gut clenching, knee weakening, orgasmic, roaring… intercourse. Ha! He forgets that I know what he likes, and besides… he should know that you never say never to Uhura.

Let the campaign begin.

Stage one.

I let myself into Mr. Professional's quarters. Vulcans have an exquisitely acute sense of smell, so I intend to leave him a little message. When he goes to bed… he'll get it.

I begin by stripping off my clothing, getting his pyjamas, and rubbing them all over my body. I hold the soft fabric to my face and breathe deeply, I can't help but groan. If his scent affects my insensitive human senses like this, then my message should fuse his synapses.

My next step is to re-enact a one-person action replay of the night after last year's Christmas party. I had made the mistake of dancing with Captain Octopus-hands. My Vulcan seemed his usual composed self, but I knew better. The slight twitch of a muscle in his cheek, the rigidity of his shoulders, and the almost imperceptible tightening of his hands behind his back, were all signs of that dark possessive emotion I've termed "Vulcan jealousy". He was on a not-so-slow-boil when we got to his room after the party and he had me. Oh, did he have me: against the wall, from the side, on the floor, in the bed, from behind, over the couch, with his mouth, and sometimes, creative combinations of several of these at once. All in all, it was a long…hard…night, if you know what I mean.

Now, as I roam his quarters - rubbing here and wriggling there - these happy memories are working like a charm, and I find myself climaxing almost as often as I did during the original event. I know it's playing dirty, but in my defence, it's been a long drought.

Feeling the satisfaction of a job well done, I get dressed and leave, but not after making his bed oh-so-neatly. With an evil grin, I wonder what he will think when he realizes that, for the finale, I sat on his pillow.

TBC