Bells Through the Leaves, chapter 2
Tossing her robe onto a nearby chair, Uhura sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her shoulder. Milele had worked them all mercilessly this afternoon, hardly giving her guests time to finish their drinks before she pulled out her list of chores. Uhura had washed windows, polished the old brass light fixtures, carted dishes from the pantry to the kitchen and out to the table, and even gone next door to ask the neighbors if they were willing to donate any cut flowers. She'd enjoyed herself, though. There was something exciting about the preparations for an event like this, and the best part of all had been watching Spock interact with her family.
Although she knew that he felt a bit awkward among these informal, outspoken humans who acted like they already knew him, she could see that he was trying very hard to fit in. When she was washing the back windows, she looked up to see him and Sefu in the back garden trying to figure out the best way to put up Milele's tiny paper lanterns. Sefu still looked like he was a bit afraid of this imposing Vulcan, but he had loosened up enough to laugh at what must have been some sort of wry comment on Spock's part. Later, while sorting through the china in the cupboard, she had eavesdropped as Spock and Yusufu sliced vegetables and discussed the local team's prospects in the upcoming World Cup match. And when Milele had handed Spock the hedge trimmers while apologizing profusely for making him work so hard on his vacation, he had matter-of-factly replied that he was content simply to be here and pleased that he was able to help.
The bed shifted when he sat beside her. "Are you sore, Nyota?"
"I don't think I've ached this much since my first day of cadet physical training. I'd forgotten how much hard work it takes to keep one of these old houses clean."
"Allow me."
Gently pushing her fingers out of the way, he gripped her shoulders in his strong hands and began to massage them. She closed her eyes and relaxed. Somehow, he seemed to know where she hurt the most, meticulously easing each knot from her muscles before locating the next. She swayed, so limp that she could hardly sit upright.
"Spock, if I stretch out, will you keep doing this?"
"Yes, of course."
She looked up at him innocently. "If I take my nightgown off, will you keep doing this?"
"Ah... Perhaps for a short time."
Quickly shedding her clothing, she stretched out on her stomach, closed her eyes, and waited expectantly. He didn't touch her immediately, though, and she heard a slight rustling before the bed sagged next to her. She grinned when she felt his bare leg brush against her own.
Not opening her eyes, she murmured, "I thought I was going to get a backrub."
"You are."
She knew without turning her head that he had reclined next to her, for his radiant heat baked her entire left side, and she felt his breath against her shoulder. His closeness was so tempting. All day, she'd longed for his touch, and she knew that if she rolled over right now, she'd find herself in his arms. She really wanted this backrub, however, so she willed herself to remain motionless.
Finally, he situated himself and cupped her neck in his hand, squeezing carefully and running his fingers through her hair to knead her scalp. Next, he rubbed her shoulders and her back, and she couldn't help but moan softly as he unhurriedly worked his way across her lower back and down to her legs. Although he didn't touch her sexually, instead shifting position so that he could reach her calves and her feet, she felt herself becoming aroused as she imagined his fingers touching her everywhere.
Evidently he had the same thought, because when he stretched out again next to her, he covered her leg with his own and began to nibble on her shoulder. She could feel his erection against her hip, and when he trailed his fingers up the inside of her thigh, she shivered and spread her legs to give him better access.
Soon he was exploring her, his lips and teeth insistent against the back of her neck while his long fingers probed her most intimate places. She could picture his face—his expression would be soft yet intense as he played her as skillfully as he played his Vulcan harp—and suddenly she couldn't remain still a moment longer. Turning onto her side with her back to him, she hooked her ankle around his leg so that he could continue to caress her.
"I want to feel you inside me while you touch me like this," she said huskily.
"Yes," he groaned. "Ah, yes."
He shifted so that his hardness pressed against her, and she pushed back until he slid in. She heard his gasp when he entered her, and he was very still for a moment before he began to pump slowly.
She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations. His chest against her back, the wiry muscles covered by a layer of soft hair. His fingers between her legs, knowingly touching her just the way she liked to be touched. His penis moving leisurely in and out of her body, filling her so wonderfully. She whimpered slightly when he removed his fingers, but an instant later she felt them press against her temple, her own juices damp against her skin. The link burst into place between them, joining them as soon as he touched her. She noticed remotely that it seemed to become easier to establish a link every time they were together, but the thought disappeared as soon as he returned his fingers to their task below.
He moved faster, his breath coming in hard pants as he held her tight. His touch was no longer delicate, and he stroked her with such increasing pressure that the contact started to become painful. It was exquisite pain, though, and she ground herself against him, seeking the release that she knew would be hers in another instant.
Clamping her lips together so she wouldn't cry out when she came, she tensed and arched her back, digging her fingers into the back of his thigh and pulling him into her as deeply as she could. Abruptly, though, it wasn't enough—she wanted more of him, she wanted to feel his strength, and she wanted him to pound into her so hard that it caused the breath to rush from her lungs. Able to read her sudden hunger, he flipped her onto her hands and knees and slammed into her with a violence she had never known he possessed. She could feel his shock at his actions through the link, but it was forgotten a moment later when he began to pump so furiously that she had to grip the bedsheets in her hands just to keep from sliding on the bed.
She closed her eyes tightly, still concentrating. Now, however, the sensations were not subtle, nor were they soothing. Loud in her ears were the sounds of their exertions, all in perfect rhythm with his every thrust: the wet slapping of his body against hers, his loud, hoarse breathing, the barely discernible creaking of the bed, the harsh gasps from her own throat. Her breasts seemed suddenly pendulous as they swayed, slick with perspiration, and the muscles in her abdomen began to ache from the strain of curving her torso and pushing back against him. She could smell her own musky odor, and she felt a wetness at the top of her thigh as her juices dribbled down her leg.
With a fierce shudder, he gripped her hips and held her immobile as he drove into her one last time. Through the link, she could feel the incredible self-control it took for him to remain silent as his entire being seemed to pour into her body, and she was swept away in the intensity of his orgasm. This time, she couldn't stop herself from crying out, but somehow she found the presence of mind to choke off her ecstatic cry before it became loud enough for the other occupants of the house to hear.
Finally, she opened her eyes to realize that he had lowered himself onto her back, his weight supported by his hand on the bed. His other hand was still on her hip. She could feel a throbbing between her legs as the blood emptied from her engorged flesh.
His breathing was ragged in her ear. "Nyota, I am sorry."
She turned her head slightly in surprise so that she could just barely see his face. His eyes were closed and his lips were parted, and he looked like he was in pain.
Slipping away from him, she rolled onto her back and drew him down with her.
"What is it, Spock? Wasn't it good for you?"
His eyes were troubled when he looked at her. "I did not mean to take you with such force. My control... I allowed my control to slip and my most primal urges to take command of my actions."
Smiling gently, she pushed his hair away from his forehead. She'd never known him to perspire before, but the dampness on his skin was unmistakable.
"In case you've forgotten, you didn't exactly 'take' me. I gave myself freely."
"I am aware of that, but I also know that you were surprised by what happened."
"All right, maybe I wasn't expecting quite that, but even though I'm not usually into the rough stuff, I found it wildly exciting. You know that I did." She paused until he nodded, then continued. "And to be honest, it excites me even more to hear you use words like 'most primal urges.' I didn't know that you had anything like that in you. It makes me wonder what else I don't know about you."
He gazed at her for a long moment as if he had something more to say on the matter, but eventually he placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her tenderly.
"I would never hurt you, Nyota," he whispered.
She blinked, unable to answer at first. Finally, she said, "I know."
Shifting his weight so that he wouldn't crush her, he placed his head on the pillow and began to gently trace her features with his fingertips. His touch was soothing, and in almost no time she closed her eyes and felt herself drift into sleep.
...
When Nyota's breathing had slowed and he knew she was asleep, he rolled onto his back and gazed at the ceiling. What had just happened? She had dismissed it as being nothing more than a new facet of their physical relationship, but he thought that it was more significant than that.
He had missed his chance to tell her about pon farr while they were at the beach on Relan Four. The opportunity had presented itself, but he had allowed the moment to pass. Why? Had he so feared her reaction to the disclosure of what he would become at his Time? He had said just moments ago that he would never hurt her, but in truth could he really make such a promise? While their experience tonight was not as intense as the plak tow, it was similar enough to have shaken him. From whom had the desire sprung? She assumed that it had been her idea when she urged him to become forceful, but was it possible that he had actually kindled her desire through the link first? Or was she correct, and had her own strong desires inflamed his?
In addition, their link had seemed to form almost spontaneously, leaping into existence with only the barest effort. Even now, he could still detect the vague murmur of her thoughts as she slept.
Perhaps tomorrow he would meditate and attempt to determine what it all meant. Tonight, however, he was too exhausted.
Turning onto his side, he studied her peaceful profile until he could not hold his eyes open any longer.
...
"Nyota, wake up. It is 0700 hours."
She was sprawled on her stomach. He knew that she heard him, but instead of opening her eyes, she turned away from him and burrowed deeper under the covers.
He moved closer so that he could see her face. "Nyota, you indicated that you did not wish to sleep late this morning. It is 0700 hours and the other members of the household have begun to stir."
"Mmmm..."
She licked her lips, but soon her breathing became regular again. He looked toward the door as footsteps approached from the left and receded to the right.
"Nyota, it is 0700 hours. Your parents will arrive in approximately twenty-one minutes."
"What?" She rolled over and pushed her hair away from her face. "Oh my gosh, really?"
"No, but you were ignoring me, and it is time to get up."
Laughing, she pushed him away from her. "You have a sadistic streak. Don't scare me like that!"
Not at all regretful, he said, "Forgive me."
Her face softened as she smiled at him. "I don't know. Convince me."
"Very well."
He pulled her into his arms, but just as he bent to kiss her, the footsteps returned, this time moving from right to left. He lifted his head and wondered if they would stop at the door this time. They didn't, receding once again into the distance.
Sighing, she said, "I guess we do need to get up. Do you want to take the first shower?"
"You may go first. I intend to ask Milele if there are any last-minute tasks I may complete before I prepare for the day."
"Good idea."
She sat on the edge of the bed and stretched, then picked up her discarded nightgown from the floor and stood. Before she moved away, however, he reached out and stopped her.
Frowning, he said, "Would you turn this way?"
"What is it?"
Positioning her so that he could look at her hip, he traced his fingers along the very clear red and purple outline of his hand. When he looked at the other side of her body, he saw another.
Not knowing what to say, he looked up and met her gaze.
She touched him lightly on the face. "It's all right, Spock. Really. I've bruised and scratched you, and remember that time I accidentally poked you in the eye? It happens. I know how strong you are, and normally you go to great lengths to hold back. This time, we just got a little overly enthusiastic."
He swallowed. "I am truly sorry, Nyota. Are you in pain?"
"Not at all."
He brushed his fingers against the dark purple area. When she flinched, he said, "Just as I suspected."
"I guess it hurts a little. But it's not bad." She kissed him. "Really. I'm going to take a shower now, so I'll see you in a bit."
He nodded and watched her walk into the bathroom. Gazing at the door as it closed behind her, he took a deep breath, then rose to get dressed.
End chapter 2