Disclaimer and warnings in Chapter One.
Chapter Three of Six: Uhura
Amazing, incredible, delicious, addictive.
Spock, Spock, Spock, Spock.
Why did I wait so long to do this? I could've been doing this for three years.
His breathing was ragged and she could feel the thrumming of his heart against her side – right above her hip. He was kissing her back, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He was not as wild and uncontrolled as he had been earlier but he was still enthusiastic. And thorough - very, very thorough. It was astounding.
We could've been doing this for three years!
At the apex of her thighs she could feel cotton-clad hard flesh pressing against her and suddenly just kissing wasn't nearly enough, even though he was really, really good at it. Nope, she wanted to move on from the kissing of the lips and mouths part to the exploration of the bodies part.
She wanted to see him, see all of him – see what he'd been hiding under all those clothes for all those years.
See what exactly, Nyota?
Quite honestly, she really wanted to see his penis. It felt pretty impressive as it pressed, throbbing and twitching, against her. She wanted to see if it lived up to her expectations.
And almost three years of fantasies.
She moved her mouth away from his so she could talk to him. He did not appear to be happy about ending the kiss.
Don't worry, Spock. You're going to be plenty happy.
"Can you…."
He tensed.
She bit back a sigh. Gods this man is high-strung. He definitely needs this so, so, so much more than I do.
"…Move onto your back," she finally finished.
He lifted a single slanted eyebrow and she almost lost her focus and started kissing him again. She shifted and felt the soft cotton and hard flesh pressing against her thigh.
Penis, Nyota. Focus!
She pushed gently at his shoulders – you aren't going to distract me again, Commander – and he rolled off of her.
Her body mourned the loss of his weight.
He lay on his back looking at her from the corners of his eyes; his body was rigid, his hands digging into the sheets and mattress. Nyota studied him as she maneuvered her body – when did my bones turn to jelly? – so she could work on getting his stupid underwear off.
He was watching her warily and she wondered what he was thinking. But then the shorts came free and she didn't really care about what he was thinking.
She gazed at the pillar of flesh that sprang free as the shorts went hurtling into some far corner of the room: It was perfectly shaped, perfectly sized and…green. It was not bright green or bilious green, it was a pale green, but it was green.
What did you expect to happen when green blood races to fill one area of a pale body, Nyota?
I guess I should have expected a green penis, Brain.
She looked at it and realized that it was beautiful because it was a part of him, the person he was. Desire coursed through her. She wanted to take it in her hand, in her mouth, in her body…
But not yet.
There were other things she wanted to do first.
She positioned her body so it was held above his, her arms and legs tense, in the Yoga position known as The Plank. She tipped her head so she could look down the length of their bodies. The juxtaposition was electrifying: Her body was brown and taut, his pale and lean; hers was comprised of soft curves, his of hard angles; hers was completely feminine, his utterly masculine.
And they were going to join these bodies – discover how they best fit and molded together.
Wow.
She studied him, keeping her breathing steady and strong. She could hold this position for over a minute and she was going to take every second to peruse him – to run her eyes over the intriguing swirls and lines of dark hair, the muscles of his chest and stomach, past the tower of flesh waiting for her, down the length of his legs.
He was perfect. Everything about him was perfectly formed: not too small, not too big, not too soft, and not too bulgy. He was just right.
She tipped her head back up and caught him looking down, too. He met her eyes and blinked. She smiled. "You are perfect."
"Perfection is not possible."
"This is lover's talk, Spock, just go with it." Then she relaxed her arms and began to kiss his neck.
Oh, she could spend hours on his neck. Next time - and there will be a next time – she would do that. Lick and caress and adore his neck for eons. Next time.
This time, she had other places to visit.
Chest first, lower later.
She kissed each valley and plane of his chest, traced the lines of muscle with her fingertips, twirled her fingers through the springy hair. He sighed and she tipped her head up so she could look at him. He was staring at her fixedly, his eyes dark and hard – full of desire, danger and something she could only describe as pure masculinity.
His eyes.
She could stare at them for hours, and she would. Next time.
This time she had his stomach to kiss and touch, she had a line of dark hair to follow down, she had a green penis to explore.
She had too much to do to get lost in his eyes.
Even if they were the second sexiest thing about him.
She continued on her journey, enjoying how it felt to slip her tongue over his skin and how his muscles tensed in response.
"Nyota," his voice, soft and hard simultaneously, floated down and broke over her as she reached the part of him that most fascinated her.
Most fascinated her at present.
She pushed at his legs so she could settle between them. She wanted him to have an unobstructed view as she engulfed him in her mouth. She wanted to be able to see his eyes and read his face. She wanted to share in the pleasure she was going to give him.
Because there is going to be lots of pleasure Commander Spock.
I have a very talented tongue.
She skimmed her fingers up and down the length of him, marveling at the color, at the fact that it felt just like every other penis she had ever touched: Silky skin over rigid tissue – pulsing and wanting in her hand.
She followed the path of her hand with her mouth. His hips powered up off the bed, but she had expected that – had half expected him to climax immediately – and she was able to compensate for his movement, able to keep him firmly encased in her mouth. She laid her hands on his hips and pushed them back to the bed
He said her name again, and this time there was no softness to the syllables. His voice was rough and broken. She eased her mouth back, swirled her tongue around the tip and the ridge, and then plunged down again. This time he wasn't able to form her name – he let out an explosive gasp.
Good.
His legs were shaking and she could tell that he was trying to remain in control – to slow himself – to temper his response.
She didn't want him to do any of that. She wanted him to let himself go and she was going to use every weapon and skill she possessed to push him beyond control.
I have a very, very talented tongue.
And the rest of my mouth is talented, too.
Her fingers and palms joined the party, layering stimuli on top of sensation.
And my hands are pretty gifted as well.
He made small sounds that were nothing like words, his hands twisted viciously into the sheet, his eyes closed, his lips parted, his body undulated; he was beautiful and graceful even in the throes of passion.
She was very busy for several long and delightful minutes, her mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to artfully and relentlessly push him inevitably into climax.
As he emptied himself into her mouth, his entire body was suffused with the color green, his hips bowed up off the bed, his legs tightened around her, pressing with bruising force on the outside of her thighs, and she heard the distinctive tear of fabric; he called out something that may have been her name in a voice that was raw and coarse.
She could never have imagined such a response from that cultured throat, from that tightly controlled body.
Round one to Uhura, Cadet Nyota.