I know that Spock is pretty OOC in this chapter, but I hope that you enjoy it anyway.

And don't read this at work. Seriously. I cannot be held responsible for anyone getting fired.

I'd like to thank RachelKarenGeller for her request that I include Vulcan words in this story; I think the inclusion has made the chapter much richer.

The Vulcan is cobbled together from words found at the amazing Vulcan Online Dictionary and the language lessons at the Vulcan Language Institute at the Star Trek Online Geekipedia. Despite my spending way too much time at the VLI, I know very little about Vulcan language rules and syntax. The Vulcan is as close to accurate as I could get, so please ignore the mistakes in grammar and usage and focus on the smut.

If you want a list of the meanings of every one of the Vulcan phrases, please PM me. I have tried to make the meanings clear, but may not have fully succeeded.

Finally, the quote in which Spock explains why he uses the word "fascinating" so much is from the Star Trek episode The Immunity Syndrome written by Robert Sabaroff; the Vulcan translation is from the VLI.

Disclaimers and Warnings in Part One.

~Part Five of Six: 2140 Hours, Sunday~

"Computer, lights at one-quarter."

"Message from Starfleet…."

"Erase message and just call her," I said, as I rushed about trying to make sure me and the room were ready for a visit.

"Request not understood. Please restate."

Computers.

"Please call Starfleet Academy: Gaila, Cadet." I started stuffing clothes and toiletries into my suitcase. There was no way I was going to have time to pack in the morning.

For which I am very, very thankful.

"Nyota?"

"Hey Gaila," I said, my back to the screen as I continued packing and cleaning, "I have two minutes and I told you I'd call you so I'm calling you so you don't need to keep calling me all night again."

"Ooo, are you going to have a guest tonight?" she asked. "I told you that dress would work."

"Once again and, as always, you were right, Gaila," I said, crawling around on the floor making sure I hadn't kicked anything under the bed.

"Gaila, I thought you said we would not be disturbed."

I popped my head up over the edge of the bed and peered at the screen.

Gaila was not alone; she was also not completely dressed.

"It's the middle of the day! You're supposed to be in class," I said.

"Hmph. You're one to talk," she said, glaring at me. "Besides, I'm only missing Diplomatic Relations." Her partner - who was most decidedly not Mike - laughed.

She ran her fingernails along his jaw. "We're doing independent study; Orion and Napean relations have never been better." She smiled at him, "Nyota won't take long, handsome. She's got her own diplomatic relations to attend to."

I rolled my eyes, "You never stop working for the good of the galaxy, do you?"

"Nope," she said, moaning a little as her Napean friend started playing with her ears. "My one aim and endeavor in this life is to bring peace to the galaxy; it is the only thing that fills me with accomplishment and pride." His head dipped down out of the screen; Gaila whimpered.

"Stop stealing my lines," I said. "I'm ending this call right now before I never want to have sex again."

"We can't have that," she said, then squealed a bit. "I'll see you and your...friend tomorrow." She began giggling and turned off the screen in a hurry.

Do I have time for a shower and brain-wipe?

The door chimed.

Nope.

I pushed the rest of the stuff in the case, took a deep breath and said, "Come in."

The door opened and there he was - his presence as much of a miracle as it had been this morning.

I smiled blazingly at him; his eyes traveled over my body appraisingly.

"That is a most interesting choice of attire, Cadet."

"Do you approve, Commander?" I asked, clasping my hands behind my back and thrusting my chest out; I swung forward onto my toes for good measure. If I was going to be coquettish, I was going to be the most coquettish coquette there ever was.

"I took time to prepare for our dinner. However, I did not take into consideration what you would choose to wear; it has provided me the opportunity to utilize skills and strategies that I have not had to employ for several years so that I might maintain my control and composure."

Translated, that meant he'd meditated before dinner, but my complex, sensual, multi-faceted femininity - and Gaila's dress - had been knocking his socks off over the last three plus hours anyway.

"So that's why you decided to go see the street performers and confab over coffee and tapioca - so you could continue with your practice of self-discipline," I said, smirking a little and blatantly ogling him.

"I believed that maintaining normal social activities was imperative to divert any question of impropriety."

Translated, that meant that he was thinking with his brain, not his penis.

At least one of us was able to keep it in our pants long enough to keep the Idiot Squad off the scent.

"That was very logical," I said.

"Indeed; however, now that that obligation is fulfilled, it is no longer necessary that I exert the same level of control."

Translated, that meant he was ready, as Gaila would say, to let the games begin.

The fun, sexy games.

I smiled warmly, "No, you sure don't." I ambled towards him, swinging my hips and putting a bounce in my step. I stopped when I was standing toe-to-toe with him.

He took a deep breath.

"Hello, Spock." I put my hands on his face.

He shuddered and his eyes slipped closed. "Nyota, I must ask that you not touch me at this moment."

"What's wrong?"

"It would appear that I overestimated the efficacy of the strategies I had previously implemented and, now that we are alone, I find that my control has been compromised by thirty point seven percent."

Translated, that meant I had a very aroused, partially out of control, Vulcan Commander on my hands.

"Oh," I breathed, my stomach coiling into a tight ball of anticipation. I dropped my hands and looked at him.

He was flushed and his breathing was shallow. "Please step back."

I did so. His eyes snapped open; they were hard and glittering - more unguarded than I had ever seen them. "Most extraordinary," he said, starting to undo his uniform.

"What is?" I asked breathlessly.

"My reaction to you; I have never experienced anything like it."

And neither have I.

I stood very still and watched him disrobe; his eyes never strayed from me - they roamed all over my body, very seldom actually making it to my face.

The room swam a little and I was afraid I was going to pass out and it was going to be embarrassing and I wouldn't get to do what we were going to do.

Would Dr. Flenderson pass out? Would Gaila?

I saw the predatory gleam in Spock's eyes.

Oh yes; they'd be goners, too.

I kept sucking in huge amounts of air, hoping that would help. It didn't.

It took him forever to get undressed. I think he was doing it on purpose.

By the time he was naked, I was a swollen mess and he was turgid. He prowled towards me.

He stood in front of me and my eyes slipped close in anticipation of the kiss that never came. Instead of the touch of his lips to mine I felt his mouth close over the hollow of my throat. My eyes flew open; his dark head was bent low - I could feel his tongue and teeth working at the skin. My hands headed to his face; instead he caught my wrists and pushed them down.

"Nyota, my restraint has been weakened. Please leave your hands at your sides."

I shuddered, and whispered my assent to his appeal - even though I knew it was much more of a command than a request.

He continued to worry at the skin, sucking and nipping at it until I was keening, my hands bound tight in the fabric of the dress to keep me from reaching for him. He laved the entire area with the flat of his tongue, then lowered his head even more.

He began to lick the area between my breasts - his breath scorching on my skin. I held my breath and closed my eyes, trying desperately to stay upright. I could feel my nipples, hard and needy, pressing against the fabric of the dress; I hoped he would notice them and touch them, too.

He did not.

"Open your eyes, Nyota."

I did as he had asked - commanded - to find him standing and staring at me. Very deliberately, he ran his fingers over my clavicle, then lifted my arm so he could kiss the inside of my wrist, my elbow. He watched my reactions closely. I sighed and opened my mouth to speak.

He placed a finger against my lips, then knelt before me, his mouth moving unerringly to the skin above my belly button, his fingertips to the skin at the base of my spine. I forgot my orders and my hands went to his shoulders. He allowed it and continued suckling my skin, and tracing shapes into my back. His tongue slipped below the material and skimmed into my belly button.

My knees gave out and I was sure I was going to crumple down on top of him, but he was standing and holding me up, kissing me. My hands tightened on his shoulders; his hands were tight around my waist. His mouth slanted over mine, he bowed my body back - his hands pressing firmly into the skin of my back. I returned the kiss with equal ardor.

More, more, more.

He picked me up and, somehow, got us into the chair; the chair where he had watched me sleep. He arranged me on his lap so I was facing the bed; the bed where we'd made love all afternoon.

"Nyota, look at the bed and know that when you called my name last night I wished to join you there," he said, his breath blazing on my ear, his fingers holding my hips with bruising strength.

"You could've," I whispered. "I wanted you so badly." I could feel him, hard and perfect, pressing against the inside of my thigh. I tried to touch him; he grabbed my wrists in one hand.

"Such a choice would have been unacceptable. I could not take advantage of you then," he whispered, his lips finding the nape of my neck, his hand tightening around my wrists.

"But now…."

Now, now, now, now.

His fingers slid into the cut-out between my breasts and eagerly sought out the flesh there. "Now I have no such compunction. I will take you soon.""

I could feel the column of flesh I needed, wanted, craved, twitch at his words. I tried to free my hands, crazed with the need to touch him.

He bit the back of my neck gently and whispered, "Rai. Dungau-smo'ni."

I must wait.

He'd slipped into Vulcan; I wondered if he'd even realized it. I was witnessing the last of his guards come down. I started to shake.

His mouth was very busy at the little bit of exposed skin on the back of my neck, then his voice rasped out a demand, "Dungau-estuhl rai."

Oh God!

"I won't touch you," I promised.

One set of fingers was still very busy against my breasts; he relaxed the other set, releasing my hands, and slid them under the dress and I felt and heard them shred the panties to strips of silky fabric.

I dug my nails into the arms of the chair, desperate to keep my promise to him.

"Vesh'svi' au kro'el," he said, coolly, calmly before his mouth returned to the patch of skin he could not seem to get enough of.

They were in the way.

I whimpered, my fingers tightening on the slippery material covering the chair. One set of his fingers was stroking my nipples; the other was between my legs, gently caressing the inside of my thighs. I tried to ease the deprived area between my legs towards his fingers without him noticing.

"Dvun-tor fam," he said; he'd noticed.

"Please Spock, I need to move. I need your fingers to touch me."

"Estuhl ozh."

"Not there," I ground out, "Where I showed you this afternoon."

"Ak."

"Fam ak, i', Spock." I was slipping into Vulcan too, anything to convince him to allow me release.

Not soon, now.

Please.

His mouth was too busy to provide an answer to my plea; he allowed his fingers to respond as the digits, hot and burning, found my flesh and began stroking and rubbing; he remembered everything I'd taught him earlier.

"Th'i-oxalra," I whimpered. Thank you, thank you.

I was inflamed, fevered, pitching myself towards his fingers, away from the teeth that were biting and marking my skin. I could feel the rush of the orgasm and joyfully began to ride the crest.

His fingers, his mouth, stopped moving and left my skin.

"Bek-tor, Nyota. Kau-terasayek istau."

Wait. I wish to couple with you.

I almost screamed with frustration - but I knew that wouldn't help. He wanted my acquiescence and I had to have him. I nodded. With my assent his hands were on my hips and he deftly moved me onto him, impaling my body on his length and width.

He held me still, filled utterly with him. "Aitlu nash-veh tor?" he asked, nipping my ear as he did.

"Ha!" I whimpered.

Yes, yes, yes. Yes, I desire you.

"Goh du, Spock. Kwon-sum eh goh."

Only you. Always and only you.

"Rom," he growled.

Good.

And oh God, it was all good.

His teeth returned to the back of my neck and his hands to my hips and he began to thrust up while pulling me down. "I'dvun-tor."

As requested, I began to move, trying to match the rhythm and power of his movements.

His hands were moving quickly and I vaguely heard the sound of ripping cloth and felt the cool rush of air on my sensitized skin.

"Weht, Nyota, weht. Bolau weht."

More. He needed more.

"Nem-tor ra bolaya," I said, inviting him to take everything he needed.

His hands and teeth tightened on my skin and I began to keen, my last conscious thought was that I was going to have to buy Gaila a new dress - and then I was hurtled into the first orgasm.

His movements intensified and, without warning, the second explosion hit, then the third and there were waves and spirals of light and heat and sensation. And he was still moving, still driving me, still biting my neck.

I screamed his name; he growled mine and pulled me down against him - tight and full.

I could feel the pulsing wetness and his ragged breathing; his heart was fluttering wildly against my hip.

As the shaking subsided, I eased myself off of him and turned so my side was pressed to his still heaving chest; my face was pressed against his flushed neck and my legs curled on top of his. His arms tightened possessively around me as I nuzzled the skin of his shoulder.

"Vesh'taurauk," I said, even though amazing was an understatement; I didn't think there were words - in Vulcan, Standard or any other language - that could adequately capture what had just happened.

"Sem-rik," he murmured.

"Sem-rik?" I prompted, my voice rising on the end of the word. I wondered what it was that he had found so fascinating.

"Sem-rik - zhit is-tor nash-veh na'ri-gishu," he explained, his fingers releasing my hair from the ponytail.

Fascinating is a word I use for the unexpected.

"Na'ri-gishu nash-veh?"

"Maut," he said, his fingers combing through the strands; I leaned into his fingers.

I was very unexpected.

I could live with that.

He carefully pulled my hair forward so that it fell around my face and down over my shoulders. I watched him in fascination as his eyes followed the strands as they fell across my throat and breasts.

His mouth opened slightly, his hands fell away from my hair and his eyes became remote.

I followed his gaze and instantly realized what had upset him: The dress. I'd forgotten about Gaila's dress; the same dress that had been ripped from the cut-out between my breasts straight through the hem by a very excited Vulcan.

"I apologize," he said, his voice still slightly rough. "I did not mean to damage your garment."

His control and composure were returning and, with them, Standard.

"T'Gaila eh wat rai zakar," I said – the damage is not important – refusing to relinquish the Vulcan or the connection that I felt with him when we communicated in his language.

Besides, the damage wasn't important. In fact, Gaila would be ecstatic that her dress was destroyed during sex. She'd probably write a song about it. After I bought her a new one.

He blinked and straightened in the chair. He'd have me off his lap in seconds if I didn't stop him.

I bit back a sigh. I could handle a highly aroused, half-crazed Vulcan but not a recalcitrant one.

I pressed my shaking hand over his heart; it was still pounding - faster than anything I'd ever felt. "Afer-tor du sanosh. Tan-tor du nash-veh lo'uk sanosh. Istau tor du rai?"

"I am aware that we both found our activities pleasurable." His eyes shifted away to the corner of the room.

"Istau tor du rai?" I repeated, fighting back the urge to grab his face and force him to look at me.

"Nyota...."

"Spock, tor du?" I demanded, praying he would say no.

"No, I do not wish them undone," he said quietly, his eyes finally sliding back to mine.

I smiled. "Rom. Kroikah."

"I will stop," he said. "I apologize."

"Dungi-vashau du po'min," I pointed out.

"I am destroying the after glow?" he questioned. "I do not understand. What is an after glow?"

Vulcans.

"Se qual Terrasu zhit tiz-tor ish-wak-krus po'guv-tvi-rivak tik vath," I said, explaining the concept to him. I finally understood how Gaila must've felt when she had to tell me about green penises.

His fingers returned to my hair. "I will cease complicating the after glow," he said.

"Rom."

Good, he was finally catching on.

"Nahp nash-veh dom mahr-tor na't'ko-veh uzh Gaila. Mahr-tor na'nash-veh," I said, thinking out loud. If had to buy a new dress for Gaila, I might as well buy one for myself.

He regarded me for a long moment, as if weighing out his response. When he spoke, it was in Vulcan. "Yon-kur."

In red.