A.N. This chappy is short, I know. But I wanted it to end where it ended and it needs to be up on the story so, sowwie!
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Mmm a pointy ear up against my cheek. What a way to start the morning. I lift my lips and capture the tip of the ear in my mouth, nibbling slightly. God, this is hot.
A low gasp comes from the owner of the ear in my mouth, and his arms tighten around me, bringing me back to reality.
I'M. IN. SPOCK'S. BED.
My eyes shoot open and I spring away from Spock so fast, a Jack-in-the-Box would be envious. I land on my ass five feet away from his bed, my underwear sliding down my butt.
I'M. IN. MY. UNDER. WEAR.
"Grace," Spock says softly, reaching out for me with a bandaged arm. My hands reach up to cover my bra, since sexy ones hardly ever come in my size and I don't want Spock to see me in a regular blah bra, and my legs automatically move to hide my underwear.
While avoiding Spock's eyes, I whisper, "Blanket, please." I see him move out of the corner of my eye and pick up the sheet from his bed to hand to me. I wrap it around myself, covering every inch of skin not on my face, and stand up.
"Is there any particular reason I'm in my underwear, Spock?" I'm NOT calling him Commander when I'm in my underwear and he's….shirtless. Why the hell did I just notice that? Mind on the task, Grace.
"Your uniform was practically torn to shreds last night," he began. I crossed my fingers in hope that he might say he was the one that did it. But that would mean I don't remember him having his way with me, and that would suck. "I would have gotten you suitable attire, but you would not let me leave you. Even when you were unconscious, your arms refused to let me go."
Well, score one for subconscious thinking. It let me see Spock shirtless. Heh.
Spock gets up and walks over to the food replicator, totally not even trying to cover his body up. I focus on everything else in the room, except his juicy ass. He turns back to me, and hands me a glass of Vulcan spiced tea, while sipping his own cup of it. Vulcan spiced tea tastes like mangoes, oranges and warm cinnamon, but as weird as that sounds, it tastes awesome.
A knock on the door saves me from TRYING not to stare at Spock's package. He slips on a sweater, which doesn't hide his muscular legs or his boxers, and unlocks the automatic door.
"GRAAAAACE!" Armas jumps at me, knocking me back onto the bed and ripping the sheet from my hands. "I WAS SO WORRIED ARE YOU OKAY WHY ARE YOU IN YOUR…." Her eyes widen as she looks me up and down, then flicks her gaze over to Spock, who is sipping his tea and not even looking at us. Nonchalance doesn't work when you're in your boxers and a wrinkled sweater, cutie pants.
Mid-sip, Spock notices Armas's squinted gaze. He lowers his glass and I can see him put on his face. The face of a Vulcan. "Cadet Behen, surely you are not suggesting that Cadet Fairgrass and I have had a tryst."
Armas sits up, straddling my hips. "You broke your fucking arm beating down that door to save her and now you expect me to believe that you spent the entire night with Grace and it meant nothing to you?"
Spock sets his glass in the replicator and it disappears. "You presume that if I had feelings for Cadet Fairgrass, I would break protocol and pursue such a relationship. In that, you would be incorrect, Cadet Behen."
Armas crosses her arms over her impressive rack and huffs at him. "Excuse me for breaking protocol, Commander, but you're in denial. D. I. N. I. L. E. Denial." After a few seconds of silence, she adds, "Fucker."
Spock keeps his back turned and doesn't respond for a few minutes. When he does, his voice sounds too calm, like he's stating the weather or reading a menu. "Please go back to your dormitories. You may use my sheet to cover yourself, Cadet Fairgrass."
Armas gets up and helps wrap the sheet around me so it looks almost like I wore it on purpose. "Thanks, Commander. We'll be going, Commander."
She starts pulling me out of the room, but I can't help looking back at Spock. As if he feels my eyes on him, he turns his head back a little and meets my gaze.
"Just go, Grace," he mutters.
Armas tugs on the sheet more, but before the door closes on us, I hold up my middle finger and say with no enthusiasm, "Live long and prosper, fucker."
Shoom.
The automatic door shuts in my face, signaling my tear build-up to overflow. Armas doesn't say anything when I turn and start towards our dorm room, but I hear her start to follow me after a few seconds.
My tears are interrupted by her trying not to laugh and muttering, "Princess Grace finally cussed."
I sob and laugh in one breath and with a sniff, throw an arm around her and reply, "Shut up, bitch."
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