Disclaimer: As you all well know I don't own Star Trek in any of its wonderful forms. I make no money. I have no money. Don't ask me for any you'll just be disappointed.

A/N: Thanks to all the lovely ladies over at the WA for being willing to look at this again when the original posting left a hell of a lot to be desired. **blushes ultra-violet** Extra love to Spocklikescats for combing through my do-over to give advice and fix the mindlessly horrible boo boos.

A Pleasure Theory

"Captain Kirk, Ensign Rodriguez has confirmed transfer of all medical and engineering supplies to Enterprise is complete. We have affirmative communications from all decks that all necessary docking procedures are complete. We are ready to get under way on your command."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Uhura."

"You're welcome, Captain." she replied, returning his bright smile. Uhura turned back to her console as she heard Kirk begin to address the gentlemen at the helm.

While stopping for supplies was an inevitable necessity of life on a starship, it was also time-consuming and tedious. Uhura was certain reviewing and signing off on inventory checklists was at the bottom of all the officers', "things I love about my career in Starfleet" list. She smiled a little wider to herself at the collective sigh of relief from the bridge crew as the captain finished relaying the coordinates to Sulu that would get them underway to their next assignment.

The bridge quickly settled into its normal quite buzz of activity.

The Enterprise had been en route for an hour when Mr. Spock stood, exited the science station and made his way over to stand next to Captain Kirk in the command chair. And Uhura, as she was frequently disposed to do, tracked his movements from her peripheral vision. She'd been aware for quite some time that Spock took up residence in the command pit often, and while she was sure the captain and his XO had a never ending list of issues to discuss, it baffled her why Spock seemed to prefer to discuss ship's business there. Both officers had 'ready-rooms' at their disposal directly adjacent to the bridge for such things after all. He and the captain shared playful banter occasionally, but she found that many times the first officer just...well...stood there.

Although she may have thought Spock's inclination to perch quietly in a relaxed parade rest in the middle of the bridge unnecessary, Uhura was not about to complain about it. In truth, she'd decided that if she had a say in the matter, the Vulcan would stand in that fashion throughout her entire shift. The location of his body in correlation to where she sat gave her a sensational view of his backside, very much to her delight. She'd often entertained the notion, after many hours of careful contemplation while taking in that view, that she should satisfy her curiosity and send an inquiry to whomever designed Starfleet's standard uniform trousers to ask if Spock had been their design model. The fit of those trousers on his ass was impeccable, if she did say so herself. Her friends, Charlene Masters and Janice Rand had both made it clear that they were disposed to agree with Uhura's opinion on the matter. Christine Chapel lost the ability to communicate when the subject of Spock's ass came up in conversation.

It seemed in her estimation that the majority of the ladies serving aboard Enterprise liked to look at the XO's…assets. But none had the ample opportunity that Uhura's position on the bridge afforded her. Being Chief Communications Officer was a boon where viewing Spock's ass was concerned. The lieutenant counted herself lucky in that Mr. Spock, when he oft chose to meander down by the captain—as if the two commanded an old sea-faring ship and he were ascending to its Quarterdeck to survey the horizon—seemed to favor the side of Kirk's command chair that gave her the best vantage point for unfettered leering. She found it equally auspicious that Communications rested at the rear of the bridge, placing almost the whole of the command crew facing away from her work station; therefore open and shameless ogling of the afore mentioned posterior when placed in that highly visually accessible spot was not difficult to get away with either.

Uhura watched from the corner of her eye as Spock shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his crossed wrists resting lightly against the small of his back as he nodded his head in response to something the captain said. She reaffirmed her gratefulness to herself for the bridge design because today…today she simply hadn't been able to keep her eyes off of him.

She began humming to herself, amused and fairly certain that Spock's current position, planted front and center to her location, was on purpose and for her benefit. Discreet glances and fortuitous bridge design notwithstanding, he knew she was watching him. Earlier in their shift, Spock, instead of sitting at his station to complete his work had spent the better part of the morning leaning over his command console. Uhura became so distracted by the Vulcan's display she requested an unheard-of "coffee break", nearly sprinted to her quarters, and quickly and easily pulled an orgasm from her lust-addled body via her hand as she repeated his name over and over like an ancient chant. When her body finally stopped shaking she changed her panties, straightened her uniform, and returned to the bridge with a relaxed smile, only to find Spock just as she'd left him...leaning.

Damn tease.

And now he was standing practically right in front of her. Occasionally he would roll his shoulders in a way that caused his science blues to hike up, only to capture the edge of the errant uniform with his long fingers and tug it snugly back into place.

Uhura had half a mind to page Nurse Chapel to the bridge and send his fine ass scurrying back to his chair, but then again she'd rather not. So instead, in an effort to mount a defense from the long, lean sight of him, she gave intense scrutiny to even the most mundane auditory signal and ship communication trying to focus her attention away from him.

Spock, however, was having none of it.

He completed his discussion with Captain Kirk—or stated more accurately in Uhura's opinion, he decided to take a different tack in his continuing efforts to make his communications officer an aching mess by showing off his backside to her—and began strolling from station to station. An hour and thirty minutes after she'd returned to her duties from what she'd decided to dub the best break in Enterprise history, he finally joined her where she sat working.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," he said quietly as he came to her side. "I completed a diagnostic and I do not believe this section of your console is functioning at maximum capacity." Uhura shifted back in her seat when he proceeded to then lean over her, pushing his backside out as he tipped at the waist so he could remove the section panel's face plate and make the necessary adjustments.

"Would it be easier to get to the problem area if I move?" she asked, while trying not to smile.


"Your position does not hinder me in any way." He paused and then looked down at her. "That is, of course, Miss Uhura unless…" he stretched out the word and the timbre of his voice dropped impossibly deeper to become a strange, rough silk, "my proximity makes you uncomfortable."

Seriously,' she thought, biting her lip to keep from smirking. Sexual-tension-creating-Vulcan- Bastard.

"I'm fine, sir," she answered, after clearing her throat and stealing another glance at his hindquarters.

She began tapping her foot in an effort not to squirm in her seat.

"Miss Uhura?"

"Yes, Mr. Spock?"

"I noted a sweet, rather pleasing scent upon your arrival from getting your…coffee. Did you apply perfume before returning from your break?"


Damn his superior Vulcan sense of smell. Straight. To. Hell.

"No, sir. Although I did decide a sweet treat, something quick, would carry me through the rest of my shift better than a caffeinated beverage. I was so hungry for it, I skipped the utensils and just used my hands. I licked my fingers after…hmmm, I can't believe I missed some." She tapped her fingers lazily against her lips as she spoke. Though her eyes were fixed on a blinking indicator on her console she could virtually feel his eyebrow drifting upwards. She looked over his back as his whole form appeared to tense up at her words.

She wanted to touch him so very badly. She suddenly wondered if he was working on the little project they'd discussed. Diverting her eyes from his ass was becoming impossible. Grudgingly dropping her gaze from him, Uhura took up the PADD resting at the side of her console, tapping her stylus against its side and idly musing on how she and her First Officer had found themselves in the strange dance they were engaged in.


Unbeknownst to the rest of the crew, Spock and Uhura had been intimate for months. It had started with a shore leave encounter, the most important part of which she hadn't even realized had happened at first. Obliviousness to highly important moments is proof positive that there is a really, really good reason why Romulan Ale is illegal.

Uhura had been happily sharing drinks with Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and the always wonderful good Doctor when she came to the sudden realization that she could no longer feel her face...or any other part of her body for that matter.

So not good.

Though Uhura was clearly, horribly intoxicated it quickly became apparent that Kirk and McCoy weren't faring much better. However, the captain and his faithful Chief Medical Officer were staying planetside and had only to stumble but a few meters to their respective rooms for the night. Spock rose to his feet, unnecessarily pointing out that, under the circumstances, it would be logical for him to escort her back to the ship.

No "Funny Business", as the lieutenant's father liked to call it, occurred. Spock, to Uhura's recollection, was a perfect gentleman, taking her back to her quarters, ushering her in, and asking politely if she was in need of anything before he took his leave. Uhura told him, "thank you" and "no" respectfully and Spock turned to go.

However, unfortunately for Uhura, she continued to talk—though it was plain the conversation was with herself—mumbling as she made her way to her bed, "how long have I fantasized about having Spock in my room." And then groaning, "Stupid me...too intoxicated to say something sexy and seductive and keep him here." Followed by, "dammit to hell, McCoy's right…I can't wait forever…I should have focused on getting fucked on leave instead of fucked up…stupid, stupid, stupid." Finishing with, "Gods, I'm an illogical mess…this is gonna hurt tomorrow."

Spock was standing quietly in her doorway, eyebrows ensconced in his bangs as she dropped with a discontented moan onto her bed and a final utterance of, "Damn Romulan Ale!"

The lieutenant was cursing herself even more the next day as pieces of the previous evening slowly and painfully came back to her. Nursing what she deemed to be an intergalactic-sized hangover she made her way to the mess hall hoping coffee and dry toast would grant her a small reprieve from the pain. She was cautiously sipping her drink when she heard the chair next to her being pulled back. Uhura tried not to grimace as Mr. Spock settled into the seat. She bit back a sigh. 'Next Day, Hung-over Look' isn't the way to get him into your bed either, Nyota.

"Good morning, Lieutenant."

"Morning, Mr. Spock. How was the rest of your evening? Sleep well?" Uhura responded solicitously, even as her head throbbed.

"I found myself unable to sleep, Lieutenant. I spent the evening, or more accurately the morning hours, pondering a most perplexing issue." His words, although spoken softly retained his voice's beguiling coarse texture and Uhura trembled unconsciously.

Spock paused, looking at the table where his communications officer's hands cupped her drink, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully as he crossed his arms over his chest as Uhura had seen him do on countless other occasions.

"Hmm? I'm sorry, Spock. Anything I can do to help?"

"I believe you are the perfect person to assist me, Miss Uhura." Spock shifted back in his seat, stretching out his legs beneath the table they shared as he turned his head to look fully on her face. "May I inquire why, if you desired me to join you in your quarters to, as you say, "seduce me", you have never asked me?"

'WHAT!' Uhura's mind blurted as she choked on her coffee.

Damn his superior Vulcan sense of hearing. Straight. To. Hell, she groused mentally and began to rub her temples.

However, after a very awkward conversation, and lots of awkward silence, Uhura found out Spock thought about her too. He wanted her too. Spock quietly escorted her back to his quarters offering to administer a Vulcan healing technique to alleviate the "rather unfortunate residual effects of an evening spent with Jim and Leonard". He met with her later that night in her quarters so she could, as he said, "seduce him". They'd been seducing each other at every opportunity ever since.


Spock cleared his throat and brought Uhura back from her reverie.

"I will only be another moment," he remarked quietly.

"Please take your time, Commander. As I said your presence doesn't impede my work." Uhura replied, her voice matching his subdued tone. God, Spock is good,' she thought while trying not to smirk at her not-so-stoic-as-she'd-once-thought Vulcan's brazen play with her. He'd scented her when she'd returned from her break and Now he's brought himself close enough I can smell him too. He knows how I love his scent. How many nights have I drifted off with my head on his shoulder, nuzzled into the sweet smelling crook of his neck? How many nights have I lain alone aching, thinking about the deeper, dusky scent gracing the flare of his hip? Uhura frowned as she crossed her legs.

Damn him!

"While I am here, Uhura, I wish to inform you that I have been using the tool you provided me with last week. I believe utilizing it has sufficiently prepared me to assist you with the project you mentioned. I am intrigued by your theory, and am confident initial experimentation to test said theory will go smoothly. Did you have a stardate in mind you wished to begin?"

Uhura bit her lip to prevent a grin from overtaking her face. This was why Mr. Spock was the Enterprise's First Officer and Chief Science Officer; positions occupied by two separate individuals on every other Federation vessel. The man could multitask in ways few others could fathom. Uhura's stomach swooped with her growing excitement.

Her earlier supposition was confirmed. Spock had been preparing for her proposed little "project". And he had been putting himself on display all day—for her. He was giving her a tantalizing little taste of what he was willing to offer up to her later.

Uhura straightened in her seat replacing the earpiece she'd removed when Spock had approached her. "One moment, sir." she answered.

"Lieutenant Uhura calling Ensign Tryk, respond please."

"Ensign Tryk here. Go ahead Ma'am."

"Ensign, I was expecting a package to be delivered to Enterprise today via the Starship Endeavor, upon her arrival at spacedock. Can you confirm package received?"

"One moment, Lieutenant."

Spock continued his work as if Uhura wasn't there.

"Lieutenant Uhura?"

"Yes, Ensign?"

"That's affirmative. Your parcel is down here. Would you like me to bring it to the bridge?"

"Negative, Ensign. I'll come and retrieve it myself. Uhura out."

Spock turned his head slightly toward Uhura when she signed off, indicating he was listening while continuing to look where his hands were working.

"Would 1800 this evening work for you, Mr. Spock?"

"Indeed it would, Miss Uhura."

"Excellent. I'm sure I can prove the theory I postulated to you is correct now that the other tool—fashioned for the specific stimuli—has arrived. I'm impatient to get the experiment underway."

Uhura rose gracefully from her seat to leave but paused and turned back to Spock as she thought of something.



"Are you using the tool I gave you today?"


"Right now?"


Uhura turned on her heel and exited the bridge contemplating a stop by her quarters to relieve the tension now coiling low in her belly like a like a tightly strung lyre string before finding Ensign Tryk.


A month had passed since Spock and Uhura had discovered that they were free from the duty roster at the same time and tangled themselves around each other in his cabin for the better part of the period they'd been given. For whatever reason, on that particular night, they were both unashamedly insatiable. Uhura reflected later on the evening's odd overriding sensation of feeling at a loss as to where Spock ended and she began. The perception of pleasure was at once crushing and never enough. They let sensation alone drive them and guide them, making an unspoken agreement that anything was possible, nothing was off limits.

In the wee hours of the ship's night Spock slid above Uhura, parallel to her position, one arm working its way beneath her hips, lifting them slightly. His other arm intertwined with her thigh, opening her to him before burrowing with his mouth hungrily into her sex. Spock's knees were spread, each one resting on opposite sides of Uhura's head, allowing her to return the pleasure. He was too big to take completely with her mouth, so as on other occasions her hand and mouth worked in tandem to make him growl and groan. She thought he was glorious and marveled at the escalating heat sweeping through her; marveled that she couldn't get enough. She paused in her mouth's attentions momentarily to take a breath and playfully nip the firm thigh that had begun to tremble beside her while she continued to stroke him with one hand, slowly caressing his lust-heavy scrotum with the other.

More, she thought suddenly as her head drifted back to admire him, so very hard in her hand. Give him more.

Before engulfing his cock again, she pulled the fingers she'd been using to tease Spock's scrotum, into her mouth, wetting them thoroughly. As she guided his member back to her lips, she eased her now slick digits along his perineum, drifting back…back…and then gingerly sweeping across his anus before circling and pressing against his flesh, tentatively exploring.

Uhura felt and heard a loud groan vibrate through his chest.

Spock abruptly halted his tongue's intense delving within her pussy, and dropped his forehead against her pubic bone briefly, his breath raking in short, hot bursts across her belly. He lifted and turned his head and returned her earlier nip to his thigh with one of his own to hers while he pushed back into her hand. Uhura answered the unabashed request and glided a single finger within him. He pushed back again and bit down harder.

Then his raspy voice broke into their—until then—silent union, a whispered plea, "More," before he sucked her clit between his teeth and flicked it with the tip of his tongue. Uhura felt her hips jerk and she came hard, embedding a second finger with the first within his body without thought, working both feverishly as she moaned around his now pulsing cock. He spilt into her throat and she took every drop readily, feeling like her own frame was being wrenched apart by the orgasm he continued to pull from her.

When they were both utterly spent, Spock rolled from his position above her. After a brief interlude Uhura turned and crawled up her lover's now-slack form. She took the time to drop lingering kisses here and there along his chest as she went, silently reflecting on how she loved the way in which he was sprawled out haphazardly across the bed. She thought about what they'd just shared as she excused herself with a final tender kiss to his lips before she moved to use the bathroom to wash up. She thought about what he'd needed and what she'd given him. And Uhura knew. She could do more.

The next day Uhura placed her first order to the planet Orion.