Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the situations I put all characters in. Everything else belongs to somebody else and that's just the way it's gotta be. Thanks so much for reading, hope you review and let me know what you think!

An Informative Reading

Sitting back in his chair Spock absently looked over the pile of data pads stacked upon his desk. Not one of his students had impressed him in any way with their midterm essay results, there was certainly no one in Cadet Uhura league in this bunch. He could only hope she took one of his classes in the near future, so as to provide him with something actually worth reading. She was certainly the most intelligent, diligent student he'd ever had, and she had already amassed a praiseworthy understanding of many of the countless languages she would encounter throughout her Starfleet career. She could even teach some of the classes, so skilled and knowledgeable was she. His finest student, he had complete confidence that she would have a long and decorated career once she left the academy and he would...miss his conversations with her when she left to assume a post. It was rare to encounter a human as logical and in control as she, not to mention she seemed to enjoy his company, which was even rarer. Yes, he would regret the loss of her presence when she left his tutelage for good.

Eyes settling on a single pad, separated from the others, Spock leaned over and picked it up, giving the currently blank screen a considering look. It had been mixed in with the other pads, a little joke from one or more of his students. When he'd turned it on the day before he'd been greeted with a message informing him that the contents were to 'dissolve that stick up your ass and get you in touch with your human side, you prick'. He'd glanced through the contents enough to assert he'd been given a work of fiction before shutting it down to move onto the next pad. Now that his work was finished for the night he was somewhat curious about the novel in question, which did seem a definite step up from what his students had sent him in the past. He'd lost track of the number of pornographic images, texts and videos they'd sent him in an effort to break through his cool. He could have told them he was too used to such things to care, but saw no point in depriving them of opportunities to prove their ignorance and stupidity. Turning the pad on Spock skipped through the note and went straight to the novel, really reading it for the first time, though he meant to do no more than give it a cursory look in the hopes of discovering the sender.

It was with great surprise then, that Spock happened to glance up from the novel to find he'd been reading for a steady two hours. He had become quite engrossed with the plot, Spock acknowledged, setting the pad back on his desk as he got to his feet. It had proved to be a rather complex, intriguing mystery, and he was actually not certain that his own prime suspect was in fact the murderer. If it weren't for the amount of sexual encounters in the novel he might have even recommended it to others. Not that that had been surprising, he'd been expecting that. Humans were abnormally obsessed with such things, their literature and entertainment forms were proof of that. What was unusual was the fact that he'd actually had to read the scenes, after figuring out part way through chapter five that he'd missed a clue, which turned out to have come up in the first sex scene between the main character and one of his informants. Since he needed all the facts to correctly determine the identity of the killer, he'd forced himself to actually read the whole thing, rather than skip over what he'd always deemed unnecessary voyeurism. Those scenes had been quite the work of fiction. Though he had no experience in such things himself, since he had as yet no obligation to contribute to his species, Spock had a hard time imagining how sexual intercourse could in any way be as earth shattering as the writer would have you believe. Yes, his sender was a clever, sly creature, to have sent him something that would appeal to his intellect while seeking to ruin it with sex. It was really a shame the man or woman wouldn't apply that cleverness to their school work.

Shaking his head at the gullibility of humans, Spock put away all his work tools before heading out of his home office, heading for his bedroom to retire for the evening. Changing into a pair of loose cotton pants and a T-shirt, Spock was soon in bed with the lights out, his arms behind his head as he contemplated the plot line of the novel and whether or not he would continue it in the morning. He thought perhaps he would, if only to find out if his deductions were correct. His prime suspect was the main character's assistant, a woman who actually reminded him a great deal of Cadet Uhara. If the killer was she, the main character would indeed have a hard time proving it. Uhura was not the type to make mistakes. And it was with that final thought that he fell into sleep.


When his eyes opened he knew on some level that he dreamed, that none of what he saw before him was real. He still resided upon a bed, but he now felt silk sheets against his bare skin, no clothing covering his body now save the sheets. The sound of a door opening reached his ears and Spock turned his head to watch the door of the foreign bedroom open, a single figure stepping in then closing the door behind her. Watching her walk towards him, Spock realized two things. The first that he was dreaming a scene from the novel, the one in which the main character's assistant comes into the main character's bedroom and attempts to seduce him. The second was that the 'assistant' walking towards him was not a curvy, golden tanned blonde but a slim, milk chocolate skinned Cadet Uhura, dressed in a white satin nightgown that hugged her subtle curves and displayed her shoulders and neck to beautiful advantage, with only thin straps holding the gown on her person. In his mind he was telling her to leave, cover up, get out of his dream, but no words would come out of his mouth. He was held in place, a hostage to his subconscious as she reached the bed and crawled towards him on her hands and knees, straddling him when she finally reached him, her dark hair loose and free as she leaned forward to look him in the eye as she placed a soft hand upon his cheek.

"I know I shouldn't have come, but I just couldn't stay away." She told him in a breathless voice that was just above a whisper. "I just had to tell you, had to make you see that they're wrong about what they said to you tonight. You are not cold or unfeeling, and I know that you feel and get hurt just like the rest of us, that you're just better at hiding it than most. I think maybe you might even feel more, because you spend so much time trying to pretend that you don't."

And now her hand began to stroke the side of his face, her fingertips cool and as light as a summer breeze against his warming skin. They felt surprisingly pleasant, eliciting a strange desire within him to lean into her touch, to rub his skin against hers. It was so foreign, this desire for closeness. He had never craved the touch of another, and he did not know how to understand the desire now. And he did not just wish to feel her fingers against his cheek, but closer contact, Spock realized, feeling a foreign compulsion to draw her close to him, to feel more of her skin against his own.

"How I've longed for this." She told him, leaning closer to nuzzle the side of her face against his own. "I can't tell you how often I've dreamed this, wished for this. Will you touch me, Spock? Will you make me yours as I've so wanted to be." Placing teasing kisses along his jaw line Uhara's voice sent shivers up his spine. "Will you let me touch you? Taste you?" And than her lips were on his and Spock could only think of her.

He was blind and death to the world, the thought that this was all a dream torn from his mind under a blaze of fiery passion the likes of which he'd never known. She clung to him, her arms around his neck, her thighs pressed tight against his sheet covered thighs, rocking ever so slightly against him, causing the blaze within his blood to burn hotter than the most destructive of flames. She vibrated against him, her lips holding him in place like a pair of unbreakable chains, binding him to her for eternity. And than he could move, rolling them over to pin her under him, his hands fisted in her black tresses while his mouth ravaged hers in return, the taste of her more intoxicating than any wine or drug. She tasted of honey and her, a taste all her own that had him panting desperately against her mouth, seeking fuller access to the sweetness that was her. More was all he could think. He had to have more. He had to have everything she and her body offered, quivering with need beneath him like a pulled harp string. He wanted to taste every inch of her flesh until he could take no more. He wanted to run his fingers and tongue over every inch of her body so that he might learn every dip and curve, learn all their secrets and just how to touch her to bring her unspeakable pleasure. He wanted to lose himself within her hot, sweating body and finally know what it was to feel a fulfilment that could never be found in his orderly, controlled world. He would beg, he thought, he would do anything she asked to learn these glories and end this unbearable ach within him, tearing him apart with desires and needs. There was fire in his eyes as his hands left her hair with the intent to tear the night gown from her body, needing to feel her naked skin against his.

And with a gasp he awoke, sitting up in his bed in one smooth motion, his clothes soaked through with sweat and the body within shuddering with an ache that would not be met. Looking around him frantically, Spock eyes took in his surroundings, and more importantly, who was not there. Falling back onto his pillow Spock covered his face with his hands, his breathing jagged and erratic. Where, he wondered, had that come from?


Walking with her typical, take no prisoners stride, Cadet Nyota Uhura was in a hurry to grab a quick bite to eat before her next lesson. Not that the lesson was really worth attending, Uhura thought with a small sigh, anticipating a boring and dry lecture in her future. History could be interesting and thought provoking, but try telling Commander Ripely that. Everyone agreed that he could put a cronic insomniac to sleep and that was the nicer things they had to say about him. He was even more hated than Commander Spock. Personally she considered him one of the best instructors at Starfleet, but then again she actually came to class to learn too. She found his lectures and assignments thought provoking and challenging, something she couldn't say about a number of her other courses. She'd actually missed him this term, as he was one of the few instructors she felt comfortable talking to as an equal, rather than as a superior. Commander Spock was always willing to hear her out, even when her proposed ideas were not in line with the current belief or curriculum. His mind was incredible, he was without question the most intelligent and well informed man she'd ever met. Not that she knew many Vulcans, but in her world most men were only interested in listening to her talk about school if they thought it would make her more willing to sleep with them. Like that assehole Jim Kirk. She'd rather spend an hour in the commander's company than flyboy's any day.

Her high ponytail dancing back and forth behind her Uhara's pace slowed as a conversation going on at a nearby cafeteria table her caught her attention.

"Commander Spock? Really?"

"I'm telling you, something's really up with him." The redheaded cadet told the group of three other cadets. "When we came in I think it took him a good minute to realize we were there."

"Vulcans don't tend to miss much." One of the cadets, a female pointed out. "And this is Commander Spock we're talking about. The guy has eyes on the back of his head."

"But Chris is right, Mags. For the last week or so there's been something off about him. Maybe he's sick or something. Here's hoping he is and he has to take the rest of the term off to recover. That's the only way I'm passing this term." Another cadet, one Uhara recognized, put in.

He was a slacker riding through the academy on his father's money and prestige, an instructor like Commander Spock must have been a real shock to him, someone who couldn't be bought off. She'd disliked him before, but now she was edging towards hating him. He wanted Commander Spock to be seriously ill? Ill enough to actually require a leave of absence? The bastard prick. He was damn lucky to have someone like the commander teaching his lazy ass.

"Well here's hoping the pointy earred bastard croaks." Was Chris's response, lifting his can of pop in the air.

Before she thought better of it Uhura marched over, snatched the can from his hand and emptied the contents over the jerk's head. "And here's hoping you get captured by Klingons." Throwing the now empty can at the other guy's chest Uhura turned on her heels and strided off with fire in her eyes and color in her cheeks. She'd lost her appetite.


Sitting behind his desk in his assigned cubicle Spock could feel a massive headache coming on, causing him to reach up to massage his aching temples. He was getting used to them though. He was so sleep deprived at the moment he almost welcomed the headaches, counting upon them to at least keep him awake and aware during school hours. If he ever found out who had sent him that novel he'd impale them with their own Starfleet badge. Just thinking about it was enough to get his heart beat up, the now familiar tightening of his chest following. He was a humiliation to the Vulcan race, Spock thought darkly, cursing the human within him that was responsible for the weakness he'd discovered within his character. Of all the trials within his life, the hurdles and pitfalls he'd face to achieve his current level of success, that a single human female would wrought such damage to his well being was unbelievable, not to mention illogical. He had never even really thought of her as a woman up until that night, she had simply been Cadet Uhura to him, a bright, exemplary example of what humans could achieve and aspire to. Now she was very much a woman to him, a desirable, sexual creature who he desired to know in the most primitive of ways. He felt primitive, on the edge, like he would jump out of his very skin if he didn't hold himself in check. The feelings boiling within him were vaguely similar to what he'd experience during Pon Farr, but it was not the time for that to occur and those two instances in his past had been dealt with in battle training to the point of collapse. Of course it was said to only get stronger with age. But no, he had a few more years before he would need to finally return to Vulcan to take a suitable mate. No, this was not the Vulcan side of him screaming for satisfaction and release, but his weaker and emotionally involved human side. It was that part of his blood, his make up, that called for him, had been calling him for days, demanding that he seek out she who haunted his every waking moment. Now that his body and mind recognized Cadet Uhura as desirable, he could not think of anything but the chance to see if his dreams could be enacted within reality. He was avoiding her like the plague for that very reason. He'd even looked up her class schedule, in order to better avoid running into her. She was a test, he'd decided, a test of his strength and control. He had long ago opted to follow the Vulcan path, he would not let himself stray for something that was not likely to occur even if he were to approach her. Such a woman as she would never think of him that way, the way he could now not help but think of her.

"Commander Spock?"

For a moment he wondered if he'd sunk so low as to dream about her during the day, it took him a second to realized that she was indeed standing before him, only his desk separating them. "Cadet Uhura." Spock forced himself to answer, his fingers dropping away from his head as he straightened in his seat. "What can I do for you?"

"Are you all right?" Uhura asked, fighting the urge not to squirm. She was being so stupid, but she hadn't been able to talk herself out of it. He was a man after all, Vulcan or not. And in her experience, men had to be dragged kicking and screaming to a doctor, even when they were obviously ill and in need of one. Of course Commander Spock had more sense than most but still, she'd started to get worried, which was why she'd headed straight here once her classes were over for the day.

Calling upon his usually considerable control Spock kept his voice even, his face expressionless. "I'm fine."

"Oh. I ah...heard that you were maybe ill so I thought I'd stop by and see if you...perhaps were and could use some help. Marking and such." She practically stuttered out, cursing herself for being so foolish. Then again, when she'd first approached he had looked drawn around the eyes and mouth. But maybe it was just a headache, he had been massaging his temples after all. She'd offer him some aspirin, but she wasn't sure if that even worked on the Vulcan system.

"That is generous, but I have most of my marking done already. Thank you for your offer." Had her satiny smooth skin always been so luminous, Spock wondered, as he stared determinedly into her unsure face. Her eyes so dark and deep, her lips so perfectly formed and plump. He had an image of her hair down now in his head, and his fingers literally itched to reach out and undo her hair so that he would know if it was as glorious as he'd imagined. Fisting his hands under the desk Spock fought his reaction with over two decades of learned self control. "If that's all, I have work to finish."

"Yes, sorry for interupting you." She was such an idiot, Uhura thought, eager to leave before she made a fool of herself.

"Good evening to you then."

"And you."

Watching her leave, Spock severely doubted it.