Rich and deep mahogany are the irises which follow her as the air between them elongates, the taste of her lingering still upon his lips. So little was uttered in the kiss those moments prior, yet there need not be. Amends had already surfaced, casting light onto a clouded heart in a perilous venture. A fugitive apprehended and secured within unyielding walls, now there perchance is some reprieve, albeit meagre.

And perhaps, there will soon come a moment for the utterance of what lies within her heart, and within his.

A venture of his own he now makes, not to his personal living space, but hers. After carrying still those remains of dust and dirt, even blood, a logical course of action would be one of cleansing. The washing away of grime and sweat; after all, one still needs to be presentable in the resumed performance of one's duties.

The destination now obtained, his eyes are met by the visage of her, greeting to him through open doors and bidding passage. A sealing of locks, the privacy now at last theirs in safe comfort. In an embrace gifted, words are uttered, soft and low in a space so hushed.

"Thank you.", comes a voice from the small figure.

"I do hope that I have allayed any qualms you may have held."

"Yes, and I'm sorry. I had no idea you felt all of that."

"It is not a subject of which I would normally speak openly. Such things are...unpleasant."

"I know...I was scared of losing you, Spock.". A soft contact is made by her hand, slim and petite, and tender.

"As am I, Nyota. You showed great courage during the mission."

"You were worried about me.". A question, almost, yet also a statement born with a small grin upon her lips.

"Vulcans do not worry- " an interjection of his own doing, and an altering of tone, "...admittedly, I did feel some apprehension whilst you were interacting with the Klingon."

"I was doing my job...we both know it doesn't come without its risks."

"Yes, that is apparent.". Fingers soon glide over the mark atop her brow, not at all to touch, but hover in delicate concern. "Perhaps, you should visit the Medbay for your wound."

"It's only a scratch, Spock. I'll be fine.", the slim hand again moves, to caress his, her smile marking her face still, "There's still a job to be done, and we really need a shower. You go first...as a guest to my quarters."

With a parting touch of lips, thus begins from him a new journey, a pacing of a tall form towards a washroom. A subsequent and orderly disrobing of a figure and a shower's activation thereafter. Of a deluge clear and crystalline, so calming and so quiet within a space enclosed. The falling and trickling down of water in a screen so glistening.

Through the background waterfall, there comes a sensation, of a figure passing into the cascade. Of an arm extended, fingers reaching like prongs ready to grasp at an acquired target. A delicate caress of fingertips onto moistened flesh, a tingling of skin upon his back. The shifting still of digits, upwards and around, a glide so gentle yet oh so stimulating. And now comes a fondling of follicles, the mass of hair which sprouts from a deep chest. Movement still, with eyelids lazing in arousal and titillation, of that very hand sliding now downwards in a steady flow.

With motions continued, there now begins stimulation made anew, through slender fingers enwrapping a limp organ. Of a kneading of flesh softened, a stroking of a resting member. And, still those eyelids roll back in pleasure and titillation, all previous activity since halted to create space for stimulation encompassing.

Following the achievement of sufficient throbbing, there now begins a movement of his own form, the twisting of his body to front hers. The grasping of hefty hands at an ample rump, and a swift yet smooth elevation of a petite figure. With his own superior strength and her small stature, the action is an easy undertaking. From this, there is a placement of her small form onto a wall of glass, polished and cool on her back. A meeting of eyes and lips and intentions thus ensues, with lengthy fingers burrowing into caramel flesh.

And now at last, there begins the union of forms, the sliding and nestling of a pulsating organ into an entrance. A dance of tongues and lips and fingers, a towering figure wrapt by limbs so sleek. All become one and one become all in motions begetting ardour and ecstasy. Of gasping and panting and thrusting with force enough to bring conjoined pleasure, yet constrained for the thwarting of glass shattering. All in a silhouette of tumbling crystal, the clear pristine liquid, cleansing and purifying in its wake.

In a halting of time and space, there starts the joint forms' increased animations, in a pace now hastened. And the further gripping of saturated flesh, in pleasure oh so wonderful and oh so rising. Yes, rising and rising and building, with huffs and puffs exhilarated. Fleshly perspiration commingled and thus veiled by water trickling, spilling in downwards trajectory, escaping into an unseen abyss. And now there befalls the deepening of fingertips at the final coming, with concluding gasps at its arrival. The detaching of tongues now brings a caress of crowns in relished tenderness.

All the while, the crystal waterfall cascades over unclad forms in purification and cleansing renewed. And bodies now sanctified.

END