A/N: Okay, I felt bad for Bones, too…so I'm going to throw him one in this chapter So sorry I haven't been able to update regularly—work is busy and I have family in town. So let me get some more of this story out now, hope you all like it and again thanks for all of the reviews!
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Well, ain't that some shit?
Bones stared down into his drink, traced his finger around the edge of his glass. The ballroom had all but cleared out save for a few drunk stragglers.
I'm one of them.
Where had this gone so wrong? The night started out on a high…but the moment he saw Spock nearly mounting his date in a dark corner of the lobby…well, that was definitely the low.
"So…what happened to your lady friend?" The bartender called down to him and he lifted his head to see her clearly. Her smile was sympathetic.
"Not sure. I think she wanted to come here tonight with someone else, all along. Didn't work out for me in the end." Bones drained the last of the liquor in his glass, and Amanda picked up a bottle from behind the bar to top it off.
"You know what they say about one door closing…"Amanda smiled at him, wiped down her bar, edged closer to where he was sitting.
She set another glass on the bar and turned up the same whiskey he was drinking. He gave her an appreciative nod. This was a lady who could handle her liquor. She sipped at him, smiled at him.
"You're far too handsome to be without a date tonight," she said finally. Bones eyebrows shot up when he realized what she was implying. He was just drunk enough and just vulnerable enough to play along.
"Then be my date," he said. Amanda walked around the bar, pulled up a stool, sidled next to him.
"I'm Amanda Sweetin. And you are?" she extended her hand for a shake, but Bones took it and kissed it instead.
"McCoy. Dr. Leonard McCoy." She laughed. "A doctor, huh? Now, how did I get so lucky?"
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She slept soundly in his bed, tangled in his sheets—hair thrown wildly across his pillows.
Just like she had in my dream.
What in incredible contrast she brought to his otherwise sterile room—to his otherwise sterile existence. The sun had just started to rise and lit her back with an orange-red glow. She looked like a goddess.
Spock was Vulcan, and therefore needed little sleep. So after just three hours, sleep sated after their intimacy, he'd risen. And now he was ashamed.
He had been so aggressive, so forceful with her last night. He could see the purple welt in the curve of her neck staring back at him, accusatory. He'd let chemicals crack the authoritative, totalitarian Vulcan control that ruled his life. And now, he was disgusted with himself. He was sure she would be disgusted with him, too.
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Nyota blinked, then blinked again. It took her a second to get her bearings. So she wasn't in her room. Okay. So she was in Spock's quarters. Okay. So they had had the amazing, passionate sex she remembered from last night.
She should have been relieved, but she wasn't.
Spock wasn't at her side. In fact, he wasn't in his quarters at all. Gathering a sheet around her, she started to look for him. No sign.
She sank back onto the bed and let out a deep breath. She could smell the scent of their union on the sheets. Spock's scent, lingering in the room even thought he was no longer there.
Maybe he thought he'd made a mistake bringing her here, making love to her. Maybe he just wanted her to get dressed and leave and pretend like last night never happened. But it had, and she would never forget it.
The thought crushed her—made her eyes grow wet with unshed tears. She had fantasized about him for years, loved him for years, really—and then she'd gotten what she wanted. Now he was gone.
Slowly, she registered the nagging pain on her neck.
Sheet still in tow, she wandered into the bathroom and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Not bad—given the sweaty, sloppy sex of the night before…save for the huge, bruising mark that had formed close to her collarbone. She lifted a finger to it gently, pushing the skin and wincing at the dull pain. He'd bitten her, she remembered, just before he'd poured himself into her, groaning her name and endearments in Vulcan. She'd never felt anything so raw and sexual in her life.
And that's where she was, examining the mark he'd left behind in the mirror when she saw his reflection staring at hers. She whipped around, startled—and nearly lost the sheet wrapped around her. She'd exposed her breasts momentarily, and although Spock had experienced her body in the most intimate ways possible, she felt bare at his gaze. Spock took in an audible breath before addressing her.
"Nyota—"
Well, at least we're not back to Officer Uhura.
"—I did not mean to startle you. I have just returned from the commissary with some items which I believe will make you more comfortable." He offered her a plastic bag, which she took slowly, cautiously.
"Spock—" she began, but he spoke again before she could finish. "Take care of your personal needs, and then we can discuss…whatever you would like to discuss." He looked uncomfortable, awkward.
He had just turned to leave when he turned back, face solemn and apologetic. Delicately, he lifted his fingers to the welt on her neck, stroked it. Her breath caught at his gesture.
"Nyota, I am…I am sorry." And with that he turned away, leaving her standing there dumbfounded.
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She closed off the portal to the bathroom and opened the plastic bag he'd handed her. Inside, bottles of shampoo, conditioner, a fancy liquid soap, a fresh toothbrush and toothpaste. She took a moment to smile at the thought of Spock in the line at the commissary with a bottle of Pantene in hand.
The gesture was not lost on Nyota, who desperately needed a sign from him that things were going to be okay.
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Spock paced the length of his quarters while she showered, hands fitted into one another behind his back. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
When she emerged, towel wrapped around her body, long hair wet, she looked as desirable as he'd ever seen her. He fought back the urge to kiss her again.
"Spock, I have nothing to wear. I, mean I guess I could put on my dress again, but—"
How foolish, he hadn't thought about giving her something to put on after her shower. He raced into his bed quarters and produced a t-shirt and a pair of his shorts.
"Will this suffice?" he asked, handing them over. Nyota sighed, "Sure." She took them, and went back into his bathroom to change.
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They were not going to wait to talk about this anymore. Nyota slipped the shirt that smelled of him over her head, reveled in the scent. Laundry detergent and the faintest whiff of incense. So uniquely Spock.
She slipped his shorts onto her hips, and they were clearly too big, but at least they held up. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she gave herself a silent pep talk.
It's going to be okay, Nyota. Even if he says this was a mistake, you're going to be just fine. People have casual sex all of the time.
But what had happened between them last night was anything but casual. He'd taken her body and her mind. She'd never experienced anything like that with anyone else, and she doubted she ever would.
She held her head high and walked back into the room where he stood. Now or never, right?
"Spock, are you okay with what happened between us last night?" she began. She sucked in a breath while waiting for his answer.
"No—" he faltered and Nyota thought her heart stopped.
"Nyota, what I did last night was disgraceful. I should never have forced you into my bed, and I should never have treated you the way I did. I behaved like—" he paused, broke his eye contact with her. "An animal."
Screw this polite distance crap.
She crossed the space between them; put her hand on the side of his face. He looked relieved at her touch.
"Spock, you didn't force me to do anything. I wanted…what happened between us last night…badly. I wanted you. It was one of the most sensual things that has ever happened to me."
Spock's eyes belied his Vulcan nature. He looked unsure, sheepish.
"Nyota, I marked you."
Reflexively, she lifted the hand that cupped his face to the bruise on her neck. She wanted to reassure him.
"And I liked it. I've never been so turned on by any other man, ever. And I don't want you to apologize. We don't need to be so hard on ourselves, Spock. We're people—we're always in flux. This—" she touched the bruise again, "Is unusual, for sure. But that doesn't mean I didn't like it."
She leaned up on her toes to sweep her lips across his, and she was rewarded with a guttural sound from deep inside of him.
He circled his arm across the small of her back and leaned into the kiss harder. His shorts fell off of her hips, down her legs and she laughed.
"Spock, there is one thing you can do for me," she whispered into his neck as she dropped kisses onto him.
His eyes were closed, enjoying the feel of her lips on his skin. "Anything, k'diwa."
I can't believe he just called me that.
"Make love to me again."
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