The light of morning peaked through the windows, forming a line across Spock's face. Slowly, he squinted, then blinked himself into consciousness. With a stretch, he assessed his surroundings; his bedroom-of course- the white bedding was askew and hadn't managed to cover his chest. There was a pleasant smell nearby, something sweet and floral. His new adun'a lay maybe a foot away, her face buried into pillows and her own hair. Her fist held tightly to a sheet and the light sparkled from her smooth shoulder.
His mind ran through images from the day before: the koont-ut, the feast, his friends. She had looked so lovey and when their minds merged, she had understood him in a way no one else ever had. That night, they'd shared a warm bath and then experienced something that, at least to Spock, explained why some people referred to the act of intercourse as "love-making". To say he was satisfied with the arrangement they made would be an understatement.
The affection remained and, while he felt compelled to touch her, he didn't. She was beautiful and sleeping so serenely, he admired he in silence for a few moments. He considered how to wake her, or when she would wake, or if, perhaps, he should return to sleep too.
Unfortunately, the hormones in his body had not yet settled. He noticed something: laid on her side, her breasts pushed together, forming a crease that went up to seemingly her chin. He closed his eyes and worked to center his breathing, to no avail. When his thoughts clouded from a considerate admiration to a primal hunger, he slipped out of the bed, found his robes, and went downstairs to meditate.
As the light shifted, it found it's way to the young bride's face. Vivian sighed and stretched.
"Good morning," Her mouth ticked into a smile, briefly, before her eyes opened to discover she was alone. Her brow furrowed as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Spock?" She settled into thinking he'd gone downstairs, perhaps to make breakfast. The recollection of the previous evening brought a joy to her spirit and a flush to her face.
She stopped off at the bathroom to clean herself, brush her hair, and wash her face. After applying her perfumes and creams, she hesitated when considering how to dress. Her satin dressing kimono made sense, as many individuals ate breakfast in their pajamas. As she was on what a human would consider a honeymoon, the sex appeal would also be suitable. She tied it in a way that covered her chest, but dipped toward the sash at the waist, and allowed her to slip a leg through the front. Humming, she headed downstairs in search of her new adun.
"Spock?"
When the meditation failed to slow his intensifying metabolic functions, Spock instead focused on performing tasks. He'd methodically chopped far too much fruit for two people. A tea pot warmed nearby. He didn't move his eyes from the teapot when she appeared.
"Good morning."
She approached him anyway, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Did you sleep well?" For a moment, she was reminded of the television programs of the late 20th century. Her brain considered herself putting on an apron and handing him a newspaper. Her lips recognized the heat on his skin. "Are you feeling well?"
"Vivian," His voice came out low, shaky, and harsh. His jaw shifted and his eyebrow raised as he ran a finger down the lining of her robe.
Right. "The plak tow?" She asked as she felt her body speed up function to align with his. While she had hoped they would mate again, she was unsure of how quickly it would occur and his current state intimidated her.
He nodded, fighting his internal urges. Here she was, a nearly nude female- HIS female. Something held him back, however. "I do not wish to harm you." His eyes were fiery and nearly rolled back in his head.
"Spock," Her voice was soft. "You will not harm me...but I am here for this express purpose." She extended two fingers to him.
Beginning to pant, he raised an eyebrow and repeated her gesture. He closed their distance quickly as his mouth attacked hers- his lips pressing into hers and then forcing her mouth open. His nimble hands made light work of the sash at her waist, exposing the front of her body to him. He gripped at her breasts, then picked her up by her thighs. Her legs wrapped around his hips to help support herself as he slammed her back into the wall.
Without hesitation, he entered her-roughly. She held onto the back of his neck as he huffed and puffed in her ear. The satin helped them slip easily up and down the wall with their movements. His body was several degrees warmer than hers and his pelvic bone ground into her ko-lok. Her knees dug in above his hip bones for stability as she worked to raise or lower herself on his member. His head pressed in the crook of her neck as he sucked her collarbone. The angle failed to satisfy him quickly, in part to the limited range of motion.
He picked her up again and walked them over to the sofa. He didn't separate from her until he dropped her forward. She landed on her side, but before she could turn to lay on her back, his hand grabbed her shoulder and flipped her in the opposite direction. He caught her legs again, and pulled her back onto her knees. She braced herself on all fours as he seized her hips. The musculature of her body was somehow even tighter at this angle, but, nevertheless, he pushed inside of her. At first, he moved in slow strokes- a full removal followed by a full reinsertion. When he changed the speed of his motion, she rocked herself backwards to increase the force of their collisions. He grunted, releasing an animalistic rage on his partner. She could no longer brace herself on her arm, instead burying her face in the cushion as he pounded into her mercilessly.
A primal part of her brain responded to the brutality, moaning along with the action and closing her eyes to relish in the sense of being conquered completely. Her eyes rolled back as she achieved her pleasure with a cry. Her body spasmed, seemingly milking her partner who promptly erupted with a roar. This was the Vulcan way. This was the violence of the blood fever...but this was not the Pon Farr either was accustomed too. It had not been one rage-induced encounter and then freedom. It was days of vulnerability, unfettered emotion, affection, attraction, and intense sexual desire. In a way, it was as if they had more control. Neither lost their conscious thought entirely. In another way, they had less control, slaving to their feelings for such an extended period of time.
Spock's head felt clearer following the release, but he was still inexplicably fascinated with his partner. Looking down at them, still joined, he ran a finger down her spine. He moved his hands fluidly from the fullness of her rear, still pressed into him, up around her hips, to the much smaller waist, up to the wider bust and back down again. "Your physique is...exquisite..." As the organ softened, he removed himself and let her robe back down to cover her.
"You know..." She began as she rolled over onto her back to face him, "If-when we conceive...it will change."
"Mm," He nodded in consideration as he cleaned himself, "And it will be that much more remarkable." He returned with the platter of fruit and tea tray to place on the end table.
She moved to sit up, so he took the seat next to her on the sofa, but leaned her back down into his lap. Her eyebrow raised, "I'm not permitted to sit?"
"In one of your texts, you recommend that females remain supine in the moments following intercourse as it provides additional time for sperm-"
Right. She crossed her ankles on the arm of the sofa. "You AND your father read my books?"
"Not together- that would be strange...My father is not something I wish to think about at present." The edges of his lips twitched upwards as he bent down to kiss her. When he retracted, the smile completed itself. His adun'a stared up at him with big, adoring eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed from their activity.
"So, am I to anticipate you reminding me of my own writing?" She taunted, "It's a strange feeling..."
"I can imagine wet-"
"No," She laughed without restraint, "Not physically. It's strange to lie here and wait, hope, be uncertain. I don't know if being certain would be better or worse..."
"I follow your logic...Although, strange physically- I believe I experienced some of what you felt let night...It was an interesting sensation-"
"I thought so too. Being inside of another person...It is not my preference."
"Intriguing. I can say I prefer the male sensation. The female sensations...there's a vulnerability involved that I am unaccustomed to. I do not think I could grow to be comfortable with someone inside my body."
"There's a level of trust involved," She motioned with two fingers and his grazed over hers. "That's ironic too."
"What?"
"You are uncomfortable with the idea of a part of someone else being in your body, and yet you are actively trying to grow an entire, new life form within mine."
"I see your point." His long hand circled over her stomach. "I can't read anything."
"You sense minds. Even if we were successful last night...or now...I doubt implantation has occurred...much less cellular division or specialization."
"When...that occurs...I look forward to forming a bond...I would also be interesting in experiencing the sensations of pregnancy through your mind."
"I would allow that."
Later, they dressed and took ground transport to the city. They explored new museum exhibits, meticulously reading each plaque, and engaging in deep academic discourse. Their fingers brushed often. His hand reached her waist when they found themselves alone in a room. Her head rested on his back on occasion. They shared a meal and visited a symphony hall. During the performance, his hand rested on her knee.
After returning home, they went for a late night swim. Their eagerness overtook them again, and they didn't make it up the stairs. This time, Vivian took charge, climbing on top of Spock and pressing his shoulders into the floor. She ground atop him, supporting herself on his chest, wet hair swinging, chest bouncing. He gripped her hips and brought them down to meet him, again, and again. When it ended, he sat up, pressing their chests together. She remained, straddling his lap and resting her head on his shoulder for a few minutes. His fingers swirled around her back.
The couple returned upstairs to share a hot shower. They rubbed each other's bodies with soap, but it seemed somewhat routine, relaxed, and content. For people for spent so much time being so formal and distant, this form of intimacy felt just as meaningful. There were no titles of doctor or commander here, just a male and a female enjoying one another's company. Since they left for the city that morning, they'd abandoned the weight of their Vulcan arrangement. It was just Spock and Vivian, two individuals with similar stories, a shared love of learning and music, and a growing, mutual affection and admiration.
That same intimacy was present when they went to bed that night. Spock was happy to share his warmth with the cooler feeling female who rested her head on his chest. Vivian's fingers gentled twirled the small patch of hair on her mate's chest. They talked for hours, almost unaware of when they finally made it to sleep. Much to her delight, she woke the following morning to find him spooning her, his body curling against hers, his arm draped defensively over the small of her waist. He woke shortly thereafter with a pleased sigh and squeezed her a little tighter.
She hoped for another go at him, but instead, they dressed and joined the Ambassador and his wife for breakfast before packing and boarding the shuttlecraft meant to return them to the Enterprise.