A/N: Edited for consistency of timeline. Doc is a numpty and needs a calendar LOL

Thanks again to everyone who is following this story, I am taking your criticisms on board even if I don't reply personally to your reviews. Extra thanks to my WA girlies, who help keep me in the realms of reality lol.

Paralyzer - 7. Simmer

Nyota was striding purposefully down the pristine corridors of the Long Range Scanning faculty corridors. She was striding purposefully in the hope that marching would help to stop her stomach from quivering. She was striding purposefully with the intent to maim, her heels striking the tiled floor hard enough to jar her body with each step; she imagined the floor was Spock's face.

Marching into Spock's office, she held her head high, clenched one hand around the bag strap cutting across her body, and thrust out a PADD towards him. "How's this?"

Spock looked up from his work, raised an eyebrow, looked at the chronometer on the wall and looked pointedly at Tom, who was seated in his usual seat across the desk. "It appears our time is up for today, Tom. I will see you again tomorrow evening."

Tom promptly shut down his PADD, rose to his feet and hid a smirk at the suddenly crackling atmosphere. He bid Spock goodnight and nodded to Nyota as he passed her on his way out. He would have to hide a camera or something in here, so he could see what happened every time they kicked him out; this was Nyota's third dramatic entrance this week, the third time she had demanded Spock's full attention and the third time she had gotten an almost imperceptible rise from the stoic Vulcan.

Almost imperceptible, Tom spent too much time with Spock to not know when he was reacting emotionally to something.

Once tom was out of the room, Nyota claimed his seat and pulled it in tight to the desk so she could lean her elbows on the table and steeple her fingers in front of her face. She watched Spock as he speed-read her document, his eyes lingering here and there as something caught them. She was watching very carefully for... there it was!

Spock stopped reading and both eyebrows shot up onto his forehead. A faint flush stained his cheekbones and he forced himself not to look up and meet her expectant gaze just yet. "This-" his voice strangled and he tried again, "This is not quite what I had in mind when I said you needed to write passionately, Cadet."

Nyota smiled innocently. "But when I came to see you yesterday, you told me to be graphic." She watched with barely concealed glee as his Adam's apple bobbed and a muscle jumped in his jaw.

"There is graphic, and then there is explicit." He looked up from the PADD to meet her gaze, his eyes smouldering in involuntary arousal. "This falls into the latter category."

Feigning ignorance, she stood again and came around to his side of the desk so she could peer over his shoulder at the PADD. She rested one hand possessively on the back of his chair as she leaned down, letting her hair tickle against the side of his face. She pretended to read for a second, then shifted so her cheek was level with his, her ear touching his, her gaze facing the same way as his; the position was intimate even without eye contact.

She whispered, "Well, would you look at that, you're right, Commander." A smirk pulled savagely at her lips as she heard him swallow. "How foolish of me."

"Cadet," his voice was rough, "Please return to your seat, this is somewhat... improper."

She turned her head so her lips brushed his ear and she whispered in mock contrition, "Oh, I am sorry, Commander." She thrilled in his shiver and had to rein back on the urge to flick her tongue into the shell of his sensitive ear.

Doing as he asked, she returned to the chair and put on her mask of professionalism, well worn by now that it was after hiding her true desires from the entire campus for five long months.

She watched as he took a slow, steadying breath and visibly centered himself. He glanced at the door as if reassuring himself that they were, in fact, alone before speaking in a hushed tone. "Nyota, when I said that you needed to be more passionate in your handling of Romulan verse, I was not suggesting that you write erotica." He flushed again, embarrassed by the concept, despite the fact that he had done most of what she had written with her in her sister's apartment.

Nyota bristled, immediately on the defensive. "You said, and I quote, 'your writing lacks passion'." She crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. "I'm just trying to step up to your exacting standards. I handed that first paper in to you months ago, and you gave a it a decent mark, I've submitted three papers since then, all of which you marked as 'acceptable'. I'm busting my proverbials, pulling all-nighters, I practically live in the library and you're still not happy with my work." She crossed her arms across her chest and glared at him. "Sue me for trying too hard."

Calm now that she was safely on the other side of the sturdy, wooden desk, Spock examined her coolly. "I believe you have deliberately misunderstood me. I also believe that you knew exactly what my reaction would be to reading such material, and that this was a calculated offensive." He cocked his head curiously and looked at her as if she were an intriguing experiment. "Although to what end I am uncertain. It was you who set the boundaries on our association, yet you seem to be willfully testing them."

"Changable like the wind, that's me." Although her retort was quick, Nyota did find herself abruptly questioning her own actions. Since she had started working under Spock's tutelage, both on a one to one basis and within her tutor group, she had felt the draw between them growing stronger and harder to ignore. As such, she had been unconsciously sending out subtle signals to him that she was willing to pick up where they had left off. Her body was willing - more than willing evidently - but her mind was not; she had no more wish to continue than she had five months ago, but something was clearly affecting her on a physiological level. Thankfully, his control seemed to be outweighing hers, because left to her rebellious body, they would be in quite a pickle.

Unbeknownst to Nyota, Spock knew exactly what was going on, and was doing his damnedest to avoid doing something foolish. The accidental, tentative bond that had been created the night they met was still in place between them, and the longer they spent in each other's company, the stronger it became.

Unfortunately for his logic-dictated mind, his easily stimulated human side found it masochistically exciting to continue the battle to resist her, so he had not imparted his knowledge of what was occuring to her. Spock was having to fiercely meditate every evening in order to control himself in her presence, but whenever they were in the same room he burned for her.

He was uncomfortably hot right now and it was taking every ounce of unconscious control that he possessed to remain at least outwardly calm.

Rallying himself behind his flawless Vulcan mask of indifference, he handed her PADD back to her. "The piquancy of your argument should be expressed through your choice of language; you yourself must remain neutral. Your written Vulcan is precise and clear, which is perfectly acceptable within the sciences, but if you were to approach the Vulcan Arts Academy with poetry written the way you write now, you would be asked politely to leave." He sat back in his chair, warming to the subject and feeling the flare of desire for her that had seared in him dim to a mild simmer in his chest. "Vulcan poetry is very much like her people; placid on the surface but churning with emotions held deeply beneath. You must find a way to express the intense without being intense."

Nyota frowned. "That makes no sense."

"I understand how to a non-Vulcan this concept would seem alien. In terms of Rihannsu, you may be more expressive because her people are more expressive. However, you will rarely find a vulgar Romulan; they are still originated from the same line as Vulcans, so the two will always share a genetic link, and both find vulgarity distasteful. The same applies to the language, Vulcan is controlled because we are controlled; Rihannsu is more passionate because they do not subscribe to the methods of logic and are subject to the power of their own emotions."

Nyota nodded slowly. "I think I understand." She retrieved her gaze from where it had been idling in vacant space while she listened to him speak, and fixed it on Spock. She took a breath and spoke slowly in Vulcan,

//My sweet's kisses are so soft and gentle,

more exquisite than fine wine.

Her slender fingers course through my hair,

sending shivers down my spine.//

Spock quietly hissed in a breath through his teeth, as the weak bond between them flared, wafting her desire into his mind. Ponfo mirann, but this was getting hard to ignore, even for him. "That..." he cleared his throat,"that is much better."

She grinned, pleased with both her success and the effect that said success had on him. His eyes remained on hers, something shifted in them and the smile froze on her face. A shiver ran up her spine and prickled the hairs on the back of her neck as his eyes darkened and bored into her. He murmured her name, almost too low for her to hear and his fingers tightened where they rested on the desk. She shivered again as his fingernails scraped small ruts into the wood. Gods, he was making it so difficult for her to continue resisting him when he looked at her like that.

She had asked for retaliation by tempting him so sadistically; she could give it, but it seemed she was woefully unequipped to take it.

Nyota swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. It had only been five months; how the hell was she going to survive another year and a half without giving in to temptation?

-UFP-

"Come on, Nyota, there must be a way you can work with Commander Spock. I really don't see your problem."

Nyota twisted her lips into a grimace and gazed forlornly into her coffee with a sigh. Tom Franklin was sitting across the mess table from her, a cup of his own steaming brew in front of him. The two had become fast friends after meeting more appropriately in Spock's office the second time, when she had turned up to hand in her Romulan paper, this time with prose intact and engaging. A quick drink after classes one day had turned into two, then three; the next thing they knew they were enjoying each other's company twice a week.

"I don't want to bore you with the details, Tom, just suffice it to say that I can't work with him."

It had been harder than she had thought sharing a classroom with Spock, even when she deliberately sat at the back, as far away from him as possible. The tutor group he had inherited from Commander Dyson was quite small and he made it a point to meet each student's eyes as he spoke, which in itself would not have been a bad thing. The bad thing was when he met her gaze she could see him holding back a smoulder that could probably set her alight.

Tom snorted in disbelief and she sighed again. If it was anybody else she would have just requested a transfer, but what Dyson said was correct: Spock really was the only one on campus who could give her the support she needed right now. She had spoken to Dyson yesterday, asking if there was any possibility that he would be recovered before the end of term. He had smiled kindly and apologised that no, he didn't think he would. He went on to explain that Commander Spock was a more than adequate replacement and that his nature would take a little getting used to.

She didn't need to get used to him, she needed to stop fantasizing about him bending her over his desk and breaking all the rules again.

She was just glad that there were no Betazoids in her class or she'd be in a whole new world of trouble.

She stirred her coffee and watched the steam coil from the cup. She wanted so badly to confide in someone, Tom, Gaila, anyone, but she couldn't; the minute it got out that they'd done what they did it would all be over for both of them, they'd be chased out of Starfleet for good. She couldn't even speak to Spock about it because she didn't trust herself not to jump him.

Fortunately, even though her emotional state was in tatters, her work was not suffering too much from the strained teacher/student relationship they were currently making the stiff motions of. Dyson had been right in saying that Spock would be a good influence on her; her written Romulan and Vulcan had improved noticeably and her grasp of Rihannsu had improved tenfold under his tutelage.

She sighed heavily. He was a great teacher, she'd be an idiot to let him slip through her fingers; she just wished there was some way for them to resolve what was between them.

Tom pursed his lips as he examined his companion. Over the last three weeks he had watched in rapt attention as Nyota and Spock wound each other up, but never quite to the point of breaking. Their verbal sparring - when in Standard - was an exercise in semantics and Tom could see that they both took a perverse pleasure in fighting with the other. There was a subtly sexual element to their dynamic chemistry, but Tom did not want to examine that too closely in case he ever decided to make a play for Nyota himself.

He sipped his coffee. Nyota was beautiful and Tom knew that Spock was not blind, he had to wonder what it would take to get the two cunning linguists together.

He snorted coffee into his own face, internally punning innuendo was not a good idea when one had a full mouth of hot liquid. Nyota stared at him as he spluttered into his mug, apparently drawn from her morose introspection by the noise.

"Tom? Are you alright?"

He wiped his face on a napkin and smiled winningly. "Yes thanks. Look, I have an important paper due tomorrow for you know who, I better go put the finishing touches on it. Do you want to meet up tomorrow night for some food? There's a new restaurant off campus I've heard is really good."

She smiled, "Yeah sure, sounds great." She raised a hand in a small wave as he rose to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Tom nodded a farewell and left the cafe. He had something important to ask Nyota and it seemed he had just given himself the ideal opportunity.