Boot Black

Author's Notes: I won't bother doing a "Spock and Nyota at the academy" fic as there are, already, so many great ones. So this is my "one night in the life of Spock and Nyota at the academy." Hope you like it.

Swipe. Swipe. Pause. Inspect. Swipe. Such tedious torture, unlike any other she had experienced before. Basic training had nothing on this and Nyota sat naked, save the brush in hand and can of boot black by her thighs, polishing Spock's boots.

They were filthy and she had, in her normal teasing way, felt completely at liberty to question him about their condition.

" letting his boots get into that kind of state?" She queried, her eyebrow raised in mockery, "Tsk, tsk ,tsk. Not nearly as astute as we thought after all."

At first it seemed as if he had simply ignored her. Had she gone to far? No. Never. Spock was not nearly that sensitive and she was merely stating a fact; his boots were dirty. They needed to be cleaned. She just didn't think it would be her doing it, in the nude, her knees bent beneath her, her labia rubbing, every so often, against the soft carpet.

Fuck. She'd play his game, but he expected his boots to gleam and watched, from his comfortable seat as her hands moved over the stiff leather, smoothing the black polish over it, and buffing rigorously with a dry cloth to check for shine.

"Your progress Cadet?" He asked, one eyebrow slightly raised. The papers he held in his hand were, for the moment, poised above his lap and his eyes took in the sight of the young woman before him. Pleased could not begin to describe the way he felt at that moment. Were he a lesser man, "A human man." He thought to himself, he would have been grinning ear to ear or salaciously figuring out how to get her hands off of the foot wear and onto him.

There was enough time for that. The object of this exercise was patience and learning how to hold one's tongue when necessary.

Noting the formal use of titles, Nyota responded in kind. "My task is almost complete Commander." God, that single sentence sent a spasm of electricity right through her. If she wasn't wet before, she was practically dripping now. Would he make her clean the carpet too? She refused to look up, sticking to her task and ignoring the sound of Spock rising from his seat to come inspect her work.

"Lord God," she silently pleaded, "Please don't let him touch me right now."

And he didn't. Nyota had no idea whether she was relieved or peeved by his actions. He took the shoe she held in her hand, held it up for inspection and, upon finding it to his liking, commenced to putting it on, his foot sliding effortlessly into the perfect fit. "And the other." He ordered, his voice low and soft.

Nyota scrambled, ignoring the fact that, at the moment, her ass waved in the air in open invitation. He wanted his boot and she needed to give it to him. She quickly grabbed it from its resting place a little over a foot away and handed it over, her eyes searching his for any sign of reprisal, or approval. He inspected this second one too and it followed its match to adorn his other foot.

He then stood, silently, before her allowing a hand to reach up and run through the hair he had, personally, relieved from its normal position. Nyota thickly swallowed. He was no closer to being undressed. In fact, she felt oddly vulnerable sitting nude before him while he had yet to shed a thread of clothing. Him standing, she on her knees. Spock completely in control, while she frantically searched for something, anything,in his face to alert her to his next action.

She reached towards his abdomen. Perhaps she could pull herself up now; but her hands were quickly batted away and she retained her position; hot, willing, unsure, and so wickedly aroused she couldn't think straight.

"I can smell you Cadet. Do you find punishment for insufferable behavior to be arousing?" Spock asked, gripping her chin between two fingers and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"No Sir?" Nyota replied. " I can barely talk right now, my mouth is so dry."

Spock allowed a small smirk to play across his features and, placing one hand on her shoulder, pushed her down and forward, putting her at eye level with his boots. "Pugnacious and a liar. You seem to lack respect for the Star Fleet chain of command. While your vocabulary is impressive and extensive, I believe I can find better uses for your mouth." The last part of this sentence came out as a delirium inducing growl, closed by the punctuation of his boot, thrust unceremoniously, next to her face. "Remember your place Cadet. Show me how much you respect me."

It would have been unbearably humiliating to cum at that moment. Nyota shivered, her body already moving to obey a demand her mind was still attempting to decode in its indecency. Her lips moved slowly to the top of his boot and a low moan slipped past her throat and bubbled to the surface. She toured the surface presented to her; over the sides, up the calf and back down, wrapping her hand around his ankle to steady herself..

More. This wasn't enough.

"Do you know why you're here?" Spock's hands clenched at his sides, resisting the urge to join her on the floor and quickly bring this little game to an end. Using a bit of his pent up tension he twisted his hand in her hair and moved her to the other boot, allowing said appendage to drift across her shoulders and back as she gave it the same loving attention as the first.

Between shallow breaths, Nyota was finally able to answer, he words coming out breathlessly and forced, "No..."

Did he just chuckle? Was that even possible for Vulcans to do? "I think you do." Nyota let out a short squeak as his hands, once again, found her hair, bringing her face to face with the straining bulge of his erection, "Your impertinence, while endearing, can be trying." Her dazed vision registered his fingers, so elegant, purposefully freeing himself from the cloth prison that surrounded him.

"Shouldn't I be attempting a coherent thought right about now?" Nyota wondered, but her mind merely responded; Well I just gave you one right there didn't I?

"Since your mouth appears to lack suitable moisture," Spock's voice dropped an octave lower, "quench your thirst with me." His fingers drifted to her jaw, imploring her to open her mouth and take him in. With a hiss, he watched as he slid deeper into her willing warmth, her eyes open and bleary, her throat welcoming him in all of his inappropriate insistence.

She rolled her tongue under his shaft and applied just enough suction to bring him closer. She would not touch him with her hands. She had figured out that this was part of the rules. She could only give him pleasure with her mouth and her penance. She let out a distinctive hum of pleasure as his head touched the back of her throat and slipped past it.

Spock's head fell back, his lips parted, and he took in tha sparks of euphoria that coursed through him. Her attentions were deliciously thorough, the wet vice her mouth created was quickly bringing him to the edge. Why hadn't he thought of this kind of 'punishment' before? There were no quick come backs, no knowing smirks, no witty retorts; only the sounds of Nyota desperately attempting to keep her gag reflex in check while her breath erupted in short spurts from her nose with each withdrawal.

His hands drifted to her hair once again. Lacing the strands between his fingers he observed her, scrutinized her movements; whore like precision on the face of an angel. It was a dichotomy that caused his groin to tighten painfully. Every once in awhile her tongue would peek out from the base of his shaft and snake it's way around his sack, heavy with pent up semen and depraved sexual power.

A single tear slid down her cheek as she struggled to maintain her rhythm and finally she gave up as he began to set the pace.

Nyota's entire world was ablaze and the masculine scent of him flooded her senses and turned her into a mindless entity whose soul purpose was to bring about the release of this man who, for the evening, had devoted her entire existence to satisfying his needs. She needed more of him, more of the sensation of her nipples rubbing against the starched cotton of his pants, more of her own slickness causing her to shift on her thighs for fleeting friction, anything to alleviate the nearly crushing heat of arousal that engulfed her. It felt so good, so damn good, but it wasn't enough and she buried him to the hilt between her parted lips imaging that, in some magical way, his penetration here would calm the quake of heat that shook her down below.

Her breath hitched as Spock's pace increased. Low murmurs reached her ears, mana from his lips. He was so close. His erratic thrusts were shallow and disjointed. His fingers tightened on her collar bone and finally he jerked and nearly doubled over, pulling her into him and letting out a hoarse cry as he emptied himself into her. Her ability to breath, at that time, was irrelevent. Her desire to come up for air was trumped by the liquid heat that spilled down her throat.

He pulled away and for once, Nyota saw a look on his face she had never seen before. Pure smugness from a Vulcan whom had taken what he wanted, logic and necessity be damned. He took a few moments to steady himself and regain his bearings before reaching out to brush a few strands of sweat dampened hair from her face.

He was sated, but she was still burning up. "Put them away," he began, sliding the boots off once again, "and join me in bed."

Nyota nodded mutely. She was lost for words and not sure that, even if she could speak, what would come out would be coherent. She watched as he carefully rearranged the papers on the coffee table, turned off the side lamp, and walked towards his bedroom. Leaning over, she grabbed a stylus from amongst the organized clutter, raised the boot to eye level, and left a nice deep scratch in the surface.

Her lips curling into a deviant smile, she replaced them in the foyer. This punishment may have been over, but she would insure that there would be more to come.