An Apple a Day, 5/6
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except a pair of Spock ears.
Rating: NC17 - adult content
A/N: This takes place after the TOS episode "The Apple". NC17 rating at chapters 4 and 5. They may be skipped with little effect on the story if you wish to use your imagination. Last chapter is mostly all the lovely McCoy. UK spelling :-)
5. Uhura
He broke above her like a wave, his ebb and flow deliberate and slow, holding a deeply focused gaze, disquieting in its magnetism. Warm, dry fingers stroked her face and hair so tenderly, whispering strange Vulcan words; k’diwa, vaksur, she was his most precious and prized vessel. Nothing in Spock’s nature could have prepared her for this, an open-eyed, raw and brutally honest coupling, alien and rare, ripping the frail veil of her emotional modesty aside. Where they joined was molten lava, seeping into the cavity of her pelvis in a searing pool. Heavy with her own and his blood, she felt the very pulse of him within her. She was scrabbling on the edge, the strength of his emotion coursing through her in a black, roiling torrent and, unable to contain it, she cried out to him, clinging to his shoulders, a soul being swept away reaching in vain for a purchase. He dipped down, forceful puffs of breath on her cheek, kissing her face, nose and forehead, his eyes finally lidded and unfocussed.
Scraping ineffectually at his undulating back, her knees cradled his iron ribcage, the soft cushion of her inner thighs made humid by their solid cargo. She was on the verge for an eternity, and still it persisted, fuelled by her fear of letting go lest she rip apart. The act itself was rendered exquisitely and softly painful by his heft, nudging her womb dully with each impulsion. Tears coursed freely down her face, running into her hair and the pillow below, as his forehead pressed to hers in an attitude of profound reverence. Finally, she could endure no more and pushed her hand down between their bodies, the backs of her fingers grazing his rocking hip-bone. Rubbing with a few, hard, quick strokes her flesh immediately threatened to escape her skin. She swiftly withdrew her fingers to grind herself roughly against him, howling like a wounded animal and pressing her shaking limbs to him in devastating relief.
As if given permission, Spock’s needful release came quickly. Lifting her almost vertically, he knelt back on the bed, a taut forearm braced her shoulders, its large hand supporting her head while the other dug at the flesh of her buttock, kneading in frantic comfort. He spread his knees wide and bore erratically up into her with three loud, guttural grunts, his mouth crushed hard to the side of her face. Falling into a light sleep, she felt him cradle and gently rock her spent form, in imitation of a man embracing his drowned love.
A long while later, still held close and upright on his thighs, she felt him lightly massage her awake with a circular pressure of his fingers to her spine. He kissed her shoulder and pulled his fingers gently through her hair.
A whisper, softly against her ear, “Nyota, it appears we are leaking.” She prised her heavy eyes open and nodded dumbly, like a woman in receipt of a recent blow to the head. One arm still about her, he snaked his long, lean body to the side and gracefully retrieved a box of tissues from the shelf behind the bed. Lifting her gently off him he used some to catch their spilled fluid, then tenderly cleaned her before attending to himself. He laid her with care on her side on the bed and stretched out behind, wrapping her in his arms just as he had done hours before. After some time, Spock finally broke the silence.
“Nyota, k’diwa, your lack of speech is of concern to me.”
Concern? I’m not making an ounce of sense to myself, at least one of us knows what my name is.
“Nyota?”
“I’m…shocked,” she was barely above a whisper, and incoherent, “will it always be that way? I’m overwhelmed, Spock. I - I don’t think I could…endure again…” she tailed off, nervous in anticipation of his response, perhaps there was to be no next time.
He kissed the top of her head, rubbing his face in her hair, “I apologise, it was not intended, I did not shield my emotions adequately, I believe some emotional transfer took place.”
“You mean this is how you feel when you…” she scrambled for a Spock-appropriate word, “couple.”
“No, k’diwa, only when I coupled with you.”
Don’t cry, don’t cry girl.
“What does that word mean, k’diwa?”
“It has a meaning similar to the Terran word beloved,” he kissed her hair again, stroking her arm in slow, smooth strokes, “you are my beloved.”
Don’t cry, please, enough crying has been done, this is blessed joy.
“I do not believe it will be that way again, the shock of finding myself with you at last, thinking it impossible, combined with physical stress, caused my emotional barrier to wane.”
“You wanted me?” she asked tentatively.
“Affirmative, for many years, however I was promised to another.”
“Did you know that I cared about you?”
“Had I known, I would not have participated in our extra curricular activities. Although examining my behaviour from this vantage point, I suspect I did know, and chose unethically to deny it for my own pleasure. For that I must apologise.”
“I’d much rather have spent the time with you Spock, than miss it because of your Vulcan ethics, no matter what happened.”
“Understood.”
They showered separately, Spock after her, emerging freshly shaved with his hair almost dry and once more shiny but, annoyingly, still combed in precise Vulcan convention. Nyota longed to see it messy and dishevelled. She sat in bed with the cover modestly tucked beneath her arms. He had a white towel wrapped around his slim hips, serving to agonisingly highlight the fine trail of plunging hair that thickened tantalisingly towards the line of the towel. Her nipples tightened reflexively and heat bloomed in her. He knelt one knee on the bed, looming over and running an index finger just below the line of her wrapping.
“Are you cold, Nyota?” his voice was rough, low and teasing. She smiled shyly and shook her head. “Then I find this covering illogical,” with careful slowness he peeled it away, moving the fabric in a caress, revealing her fully to him.
She studied his face, raising a hand to cup his now smooth cheek, “You’re back at last.”
“I do not consider ablutions of 12.6 minutes to be an amount of time worthy of a welcome.”
Laughing, she said, “I don’t mean that Spock, I meant to say you seem like your old self, not the man I saw in sickbay.”
“Indeed, I appear to be functioning at virtually normal capacity.”
“Indeed you do,” she smiled wisely.
With a graceful flick of his wrist, the towel was gone, and he leaned down to kiss her lips in a dry, soft contact. Quickly moving down he captured a nipple in his mouth to suck firmly upon it while his fingers caressed its twin with maddening gentility. He licked, nipped, tugged, tasted, sucked and stroked his way down her torso until she writhed beneath his touch, rubbing her legs together in compulsive need. Reaching her clamped thighs he merely raised one chastising eyebrow and said, commanding and stern, “Release.” She relaxed and yielded to his purposeful, exposing manipulation of her limbs.
He had an infernal glint in his eye, his nose hovered close above her, now spread quivering for his scientific scrutiny. Suddenly, he made a gesture so surprising to Nyota that she gasped his name in shock. Looking directly up into her eyes from the frame of her thighs, he languidly covered his face entirely with his hand, advancing the tips of his long fingers beneath his hair, towards the hairline. With a smooth motion , he swept his hair up and off his forehead, raking his fingers over his scalp and on to the nape of his neck, never taking his eyes from hers. It was a gesture charged with loose sexuality and blazing confidence, guaranteed to ignite a fire. He was majestic.
Fluid hands moved up her thighs, coming to rest at the junction of her hips. Two gentle thumbs brushed an upward path, stroking and parting while a probing tongue efficiently found its target. She gasped at the contact, his tongue was so hot on her delicate tissue, much more so than when it explored her mouth. The feeling was staggering and she whimpered as her whole body bucked. Never had she felt such precision from a lover’s tongue, each move was different from the last, small circles, sweeping curves, gentle taps, firm strokes, with no part left unexplored. He teased with excruciating thoroughness, bringing her to the brink again and again, and as she finally felt her nerves begin to stretch apart he sensed it. He slid two long, burning fingers within her and moved them slowly, his mouth suddenly focussed and firm, until she sobbed his name, clenching around him and clutching her knees roughly with her hands.
Through languid eyes, she watched him discreetly wipe his mouth on the back of his hand and felt his fingers gently slide away. He moved up to cover her, propped up on his elbows, and as he kissed her gently, she tasted herself. Momentarily stupefied, she was at last able to string a few words together and asked incredulous, and stuttering, “What was that, what you just did, it was mind-blowing.”
“I trust not, I very much desire that you keep your mind intact Nyota, however, to answer your question that, was the Vulcan alphabet.”
Rating: NC17 - adult content
A/N: This takes place after the TOS episode "The Apple". NC17 rating at chapters 4 and 5. They may be skipped with little effect on the story if you wish to use your imagination. Last chapter is mostly all the lovely McCoy. UK spelling :-)
5. Uhura
He broke above her like a wave, his ebb and flow deliberate and slow, holding a deeply focused gaze, disquieting in its magnetism. Warm, dry fingers stroked her face and hair so tenderly, whispering strange Vulcan words; k’diwa, vaksur, she was his most precious and prized vessel. Nothing in Spock’s nature could have prepared her for this, an open-eyed, raw and brutally honest coupling, alien and rare, ripping the frail veil of her emotional modesty aside. Where they joined was molten lava, seeping into the cavity of her pelvis in a searing pool. Heavy with her own and his blood, she felt the very pulse of him within her. She was scrabbling on the edge, the strength of his emotion coursing through her in a black, roiling torrent and, unable to contain it, she cried out to him, clinging to his shoulders, a soul being swept away reaching in vain for a purchase. He dipped down, forceful puffs of breath on her cheek, kissing her face, nose and forehead, his eyes finally lidded and unfocussed.
Scraping ineffectually at his undulating back, her knees cradled his iron ribcage, the soft cushion of her inner thighs made humid by their solid cargo. She was on the verge for an eternity, and still it persisted, fuelled by her fear of letting go lest she rip apart. The act itself was rendered exquisitely and softly painful by his heft, nudging her womb dully with each impulsion. Tears coursed freely down her face, running into her hair and the pillow below, as his forehead pressed to hers in an attitude of profound reverence. Finally, she could endure no more and pushed her hand down between their bodies, the backs of her fingers grazing his rocking hip-bone. Rubbing with a few, hard, quick strokes her flesh immediately threatened to escape her skin. She swiftly withdrew her fingers to grind herself roughly against him, howling like a wounded animal and pressing her shaking limbs to him in devastating relief.
As if given permission, Spock’s needful release came quickly. Lifting her almost vertically, he knelt back on the bed, a taut forearm braced her shoulders, its large hand supporting her head while the other dug at the flesh of her buttock, kneading in frantic comfort. He spread his knees wide and bore erratically up into her with three loud, guttural grunts, his mouth crushed hard to the side of her face. Falling into a light sleep, she felt him cradle and gently rock her spent form, in imitation of a man embracing his drowned love.
A long while later, still held close and upright on his thighs, she felt him lightly massage her awake with a circular pressure of his fingers to her spine. He kissed her shoulder and pulled his fingers gently through her hair.
A whisper, softly against her ear, “Nyota, it appears we are leaking.” She prised her heavy eyes open and nodded dumbly, like a woman in receipt of a recent blow to the head. One arm still about her, he snaked his long, lean body to the side and gracefully retrieved a box of tissues from the shelf behind the bed. Lifting her gently off him he used some to catch their spilled fluid, then tenderly cleaned her before attending to himself. He laid her with care on her side on the bed and stretched out behind, wrapping her in his arms just as he had done hours before. After some time, Spock finally broke the silence.
“Nyota, k’diwa, your lack of speech is of concern to me.”
Concern? I’m not making an ounce of sense to myself, at least one of us knows what my name is.
“Nyota?”
“I’m…shocked,” she was barely above a whisper, and incoherent, “will it always be that way? I’m overwhelmed, Spock. I - I don’t think I could…endure again…” she tailed off, nervous in anticipation of his response, perhaps there was to be no next time.
He kissed the top of her head, rubbing his face in her hair, “I apologise, it was not intended, I did not shield my emotions adequately, I believe some emotional transfer took place.”
“You mean this is how you feel when you…” she scrambled for a Spock-appropriate word, “couple.”
“No, k’diwa, only when I coupled with you.”
Don’t cry, don’t cry girl.
“What does that word mean, k’diwa?”
“It has a meaning similar to the Terran word beloved,” he kissed her hair again, stroking her arm in slow, smooth strokes, “you are my beloved.”
Don’t cry, please, enough crying has been done, this is blessed joy.
“I do not believe it will be that way again, the shock of finding myself with you at last, thinking it impossible, combined with physical stress, caused my emotional barrier to wane.”
“You wanted me?” she asked tentatively.
“Affirmative, for many years, however I was promised to another.”
“Did you know that I cared about you?”
“Had I known, I would not have participated in our extra curricular activities. Although examining my behaviour from this vantage point, I suspect I did know, and chose unethically to deny it for my own pleasure. For that I must apologise.”
“I’d much rather have spent the time with you Spock, than miss it because of your Vulcan ethics, no matter what happened.”
“Understood.”
They showered separately, Spock after her, emerging freshly shaved with his hair almost dry and once more shiny but, annoyingly, still combed in precise Vulcan convention. Nyota longed to see it messy and dishevelled. She sat in bed with the cover modestly tucked beneath her arms. He had a white towel wrapped around his slim hips, serving to agonisingly highlight the fine trail of plunging hair that thickened tantalisingly towards the line of the towel. Her nipples tightened reflexively and heat bloomed in her. He knelt one knee on the bed, looming over and running an index finger just below the line of her wrapping.
“Are you cold, Nyota?” his voice was rough, low and teasing. She smiled shyly and shook her head. “Then I find this covering illogical,” with careful slowness he peeled it away, moving the fabric in a caress, revealing her fully to him.
She studied his face, raising a hand to cup his now smooth cheek, “You’re back at last.”
“I do not consider ablutions of 12.6 minutes to be an amount of time worthy of a welcome.”
Laughing, she said, “I don’t mean that Spock, I meant to say you seem like your old self, not the man I saw in sickbay.”
“Indeed, I appear to be functioning at virtually normal capacity.”
“Indeed you do,” she smiled wisely.
With a graceful flick of his wrist, the towel was gone, and he leaned down to kiss her lips in a dry, soft contact. Quickly moving down he captured a nipple in his mouth to suck firmly upon it while his fingers caressed its twin with maddening gentility. He licked, nipped, tugged, tasted, sucked and stroked his way down her torso until she writhed beneath his touch, rubbing her legs together in compulsive need. Reaching her clamped thighs he merely raised one chastising eyebrow and said, commanding and stern, “Release.” She relaxed and yielded to his purposeful, exposing manipulation of her limbs.
He had an infernal glint in his eye, his nose hovered close above her, now spread quivering for his scientific scrutiny. Suddenly, he made a gesture so surprising to Nyota that she gasped his name in shock. Looking directly up into her eyes from the frame of her thighs, he languidly covered his face entirely with his hand, advancing the tips of his long fingers beneath his hair, towards the hairline. With a smooth motion , he swept his hair up and off his forehead, raking his fingers over his scalp and on to the nape of his neck, never taking his eyes from hers. It was a gesture charged with loose sexuality and blazing confidence, guaranteed to ignite a fire. He was majestic.
Fluid hands moved up her thighs, coming to rest at the junction of her hips. Two gentle thumbs brushed an upward path, stroking and parting while a probing tongue efficiently found its target. She gasped at the contact, his tongue was so hot on her delicate tissue, much more so than when it explored her mouth. The feeling was staggering and she whimpered as her whole body bucked. Never had she felt such precision from a lover’s tongue, each move was different from the last, small circles, sweeping curves, gentle taps, firm strokes, with no part left unexplored. He teased with excruciating thoroughness, bringing her to the brink again and again, and as she finally felt her nerves begin to stretch apart he sensed it. He slid two long, burning fingers within her and moved them slowly, his mouth suddenly focussed and firm, until she sobbed his name, clenching around him and clutching her knees roughly with her hands.
Through languid eyes, she watched him discreetly wipe his mouth on the back of his hand and felt his fingers gently slide away. He moved up to cover her, propped up on his elbows, and as he kissed her gently, she tasted herself. Momentarily stupefied, she was at last able to string a few words together and asked incredulous, and stuttering, “What was that, what you just did, it was mind-blowing.”
“I trust not, I very much desire that you keep your mind intact Nyota, however, to answer your question that, was the Vulcan alphabet.”