6 January, 2260
First Officer's personal log, Stardate 2260.06. The Enterprise is currently in the first year of its five-year mission. This particular day also marks the thirtieth anniversary of my birth. Initially, I was never fond of birthdays. Even as a child, I would find the notion of the rather human traditions of "gift-giving" and "birthday parties" as illogical and unnecessary. Yet, the present day being what it is, I find myself thinking of my mother; of how she would employ every method she could conjure to make the day meaningful for me. Moreover, she would use the term "special". If she were still alive, I have no doubt that she would have continued this tradition, despite myself being well into my adult years. Were I completely human, I would say that I could smell the cloud cakes that she would prepare for me, and even almost taste them. As I am not entirely human, and to adhere to my Vulcan upbringing, such things would be deemed illogical. Such is the rather confused life of a product of two different species. To use a human phrase, I should not "dwell on the past"; and yet, my mind cannot help but wander back to those memories, of which I have become rather fond. With both my mother and home planet now lost, I hold onto those images and those feelings more tightly, and have a greater sense of appreciation for all of her efforts in her celebration of my birth.There is a high probability that Lieutenant Uhura will have made plans of some sort for my birthday, yet I possess no knowledge of what they might entail, as their details had not been divulged.However, I am certain that she will do whatever she can in order to make today pleasurable for me...and more memorable.
"You know, you can use my first name when referring to me in your logs, Spock.", a voice emerges from behind his chair, accompanied by the encircling of slim arms around his shoulders.
"Personal logs are precisely what the title implies – personal, Nyota.".
Despite the slight sternness in his intonation, his reply is supplemented by a touch of his hand to hers. To which, her own response is a soft peck at his cheek and her head resting at his collar.
"Sorry for my good hearing.", a smile across her lips, with a gift of yet another gentle kiss, her arms tighten their grip across his chest and her face becomes more solemn. "Thinking about your mother again?".
"I... yes.".
"I know...you still miss her.".
"She would often show me a great amount of affection, particularly on my birthday.". Hesitant are his words as they are spoken, as if still pained by grief.
"She wanted you to feel special...and loved.".
"Indeed.". His voice is barely audible with the word, yet her adept ears still detect it all the same.
For several minutes, she allows him to gather himself, still upright in his chair, in respectful silence. She, too, takes a few moments to reflect and remember, of a life stolen from the one she loves. Of a family she had never been made acquainted, and will never be given the chance again.
At the sight of his slightly bowed head, she brings herself around, slipping her slender figure into the small gap between the Vulcan on the chair and the desk in front of him. With her petite hands placed over his, she continues to speak, her tone warm and soft and full of love.
"I know it's not the same, but I have something special planned for you today.". A gentle grasp of his hands and an additional peck of affection at his lips, she gazes into his eyes, sending warmth into the mocha irises.
"Yes, I had anticipated as such.". As her face had since been moved away from his, he shifts himself forward, his face barely brushing hers. "Nyota, whatever it is that you have prepared, I do hope that it is not overly...raucous.".
"Oh, don't worry, Spock.", her voice is sultry as their lips meet yet again, and a slender hand rubs into the fabric of his tunic. "It won't be anything too wild. You might just appreciate what I have planned. Now, let me give you a little early-morning present.".
At the utterance of the final phrase, her slim fingers glide downwards, feeling their way to the crotch of his uniform slacks. Naturally, he had readied himself for the day, efficiently completing his morning routine and donning his uniform. So, of course, had she. A small groan is sounded from him as her slim fingers rub against him, and arousing kisses are planted all over his mouth and face. As a result of her rubbing hand, there begins a swelling beneath the fabric.
"Nyota...", a lengthy hand caresses her stringy hair in soft strokes, "our presence is required on the bridge.".
"Not for another fifteen minutes.". Now, her entire figure shifts, with her head moving toward his lap.
"Thirteen minutes and fifty-two seconds, to be exact.".
"See? Plenty of time.". With a foxy grin, her fingers fiddle with the fastenings.
"Nyo-", a tiny fingertip placed upon his lips abruptly interrupts his speech.
"Spock,", her arm outstretched, she glares at him, whilst maintaining her sultriness, "do you doubt my ability to satisfactorily bring you pleasure by the method of oral stimulation within a specific timeframe?".
"No, I- "
"Well,", she settles back into position, nestling herself between his legs, of which he had parted for her, "please allow me to continue.".
There is yet another low groan emerging from his throat as he is freed from his slacks and his trunks, with slender fingers wrapped around him. However, before he is wrapped by her lips, she utilises the moment to speak one last time, grinning broadly as she does so.
"Happy Birthday.".