As yet another duty shift has come to an end, a bleary-eyed Lieutenant travels through the near-barren corridor. Her intended destination is not of her own quarters, but of Spock's. The Commander had just recently suffered a bout of Vulcan flu, spending the past two weeks with orders of isolation and bedrest; now, to his hidden gladness, he has finally been cleared for duty, and will do so the next morning. For now, however, he is resting, snugly nestled in his bed.

Uhura, having been gifted the Vulcan's code for her visits during his recovery, wanders through the unlocked doors of his quarters. At the very moment of her stepping into the space, her body is met by a warm air. Indeed, Vulcans are rather sensitive to lower temperatures, much more so than humans, given their physiology and inherent adaptation to blazing desert heat. This, though, seems different. The climate of the room feels much warmer than that with which he would normally use.

As she travels further into the room, with her feet softly padding along the flooring below, she spots his form on the bed, the quilt rumpled at his hips. Then, she sights something peculiar about his posture: his hair is a tad dishevelled, eyelids flickering, lips slightly parted, one hand clenching the pearly sheet beneath, the other burrowed under the quilt with small movements showing through the covering.

Oh, what's this?

Quietly slipping off her boots, then her socks, she saunters closer to the bed. With a most wicked grin, she climbs over the stretched form, crawling like a cat stalking its prey.

Soundlessly she moves, with an almost feline precision as she slithers along the figure. Carefully, she slides the quilt down the long limbs, shifting herself to allow it placement behind her. She glimpses the hand dug into the figure's shorts, the movements more prominent now.

Gracefully, the cat moves further up the form, bringing herself closer and closer to his face. Her moves are deliberate, cautious as to not disturb the peacefully dormant figure below. Once her face is carefully aligned with his, she endows a gentle kiss onto his lips, as her palm softly cups his cheek. A tiny sound escapes his throat, almost a slight groan; it is near undetectable, except to her, of course. A smirk appears on her lips as she begins to shift her body backwards, returning to her previous position.

Stealthily, she slides the shorts down the form's lengthy limbs, all the while he remains in a restful slumber; that is, with the exception of his hand. With fingers wrapped around the swollen member, the hand glides upwards, then downwards in measured motions. There is no frenzy in the movements of his hand; instead, there is a slow and steady rhythm, as if he were savouring the sensations.

Dreaming about someone?

While it is true that Vulcans possess a great control over their minds, and therefore their bodies, the sight of this particular individual in an apparently aroused dreaminess is rather...peculiar. It is possible that he has consumed some chocolate, which will render him intoxicated. The Lieutenant scans the room with her coffee eyes, but sights none of the confection, or any evidence to support this theory. She formulates another hypothesis: perhaps, he had allowed himself to slip into this state, knowing that she will be visiting him this night, as she had every other night whilst he had remained on bedrest. Yes, that could possibly be the most logical answer. During his recovery, she had spent time with him, caressing him and dining with him; yet, they had abstained from more amorous activities until he had fully recovered. Perhaps, he had planned this as an act of thanks for her care of him. Logical, indeed. So, here he is, displayed for her gratification...and enjoyment.

So, carefully and quietly, she reaches for his lok, mirroring his previous stroking with one hand; with her other, she gently lifts the hand that been stimulating him all this time. She touches two fingertips to his in an ozh'esta, allowing him confirmation that she is physically there. Then, she brings the hand closer to her face, to her lips, with which she deposits soft pecks at the fingertips. Another small vocalisation is sounded from him, as she slips a finger into her mouth, gently nibbling and sucking.

She alternates between the thumb, index and middle fingers, concentrating on the meld points at the tip of each digit. Her lips and her teeth and her tongue dance around and play all over the sensitive pads, all while her disrobed suitor continues his near inaudible purring. And yes, all while her hand continues to stimulate his lok.

The organ now satisfactorily throbbing, she loosens her grasp. With her hand once again free, she skilfully slips off her panties, shifting her body so the garment is freed from her legs. Also with that hand, she reaches for the large hand that, during this entire time, had been grasping at the pearly sheet beneath the dormant figure. Ever so gently, she releases the sheet from the fingers' taut grip, bringing it closer to her head. She touches three fingertips to her face, and now feels every little sensation that he can: the warmth of the space around them, the heat and the weight of her figure against his, the pulsations of his lok, the delicate nibbling and sucking at his fingertips. It is all quite foreign to her, yet intensely...exhilarating.

Like the old Earth idiom "curiosity killed the cat", her own inquisitiveness overcomes her, and she releases the fingers that she had been sucking and reaches for his lok. Her slender fingers encircle the organ, resuming once more the gentle rhythmical stroking it had enjoyed earlier. As her other hand had kept his meld fingers on her face, she can feel the stroking and the stimulation of his member as if it were her own. Another low rumble is sounded in his throat, also from her, with this combined titillation.

Their conjoined stimulation nearing its peak, almost slipping over the precipice, she once again releases his pulsing member. Her body shifts and slides into position, and she descends onto him, whilst she maintains the mind meld with one hand. With the other, she grabs his free hand, resuming the previous sucking of his sensitive pads on his fingertips. Tiny vocal sounds emerge from the throats of them both, almost in complete unison. Slowly and gently, her hips bob up and down, riding like a lone ranger on a leisurely horseback stroll through the countryside.

As their minds and bodily sensations are blended together, there is no real need for her to increase her momentum, or perform any fondling upon herself, in order for the two of them to reach their accumulated peak. She can feel his rising and rising, hers in the same instant. And, there continues from him low throaty sounds, more noticeable now, yet still almost muffled. Utilising carefully calculated movements of her hips and her lips and her tongue, within minutes it comes, his body slightly shuddering beneath hers. Her body, too, lets out a small tremble, with a satisfied sigh and quiet moan.

With the arrival of his climax, as well as hers, there too comes a low rumble from somewhere deep within his throat, like the soft thrum of a contented feline. On her lips, an amused grin emerges.

As, in regards to her lover, she has now heard it all.

THE END