Spock's mind began to wander as he signed off on another data padd. Jim had fallen ill on their last away mission, so the Enterprise had been his for the past week. The added work load was not burdensome; he could easily pull double or even triple shifts without any impact to his physical or mental well being. His Captain always blessed his Vulcan physiology at times such as this. Jim would give himself the proverbial 'pat on the back' for his wisdom in selecting a first officer who simply did not require the rest it took most humans to function properly. The ship was on standby, preparing to escort several diplomatic envoys to Earth for a summit. As Dr McCoy had said, 'Jim had picked a good time' to get sick.
He wished the Captain back. While he had no problem handling the added work, not seeing Nyota had made him very unsettled. She had taken on extra duties as well in preparation for the incoming delegates, so the past week had afforded them nothing more than a passing glance when their shifts had overlapped. He found the limited contact deeply unsatisfying.
Nevertheless, Spock found one facet of their separation fascinating. It had made him contemplate his parents' relationship under the same circumstances. Now that he was bonded to Nyota, he discovered how much of the depth of his Father's affection for his mother he had missed, viewing their connection through the eyes of a child-- a Vulcan child. He had lacked the knowledge and experience to see some things for what they truly were.
Sarek hardly ever traveled without his wife. Spock knew this to be logical. It was the duty of an ambassador's wife to support him in his duties. The Lady Amanda had been a gifted diplomat herself. She had complemented his father well; having an uncanny ability to, as she would say, 'read' people. Regardless of their planet of origin, most dignitaries were 'charmed' by Amanda Grayson's quick wit, intelligence and disarming smile. Even as a child, Spock could see his parents had been a formidable team. However, as an adult and now husband to Nyota, it became clear to Spock that Sarek had not kept his wife so close for any of those reasons. He could understand now; while Sarek valued and admired Amanda's assistance in his work, the true reason they were rarely apart was simply that his father could not bear to be away from his wife. He loved her.
It was with a distinct sense of relief that Spock began to finish up his day on the bridge. He had received word from Dr McCoy that the captain had been cleared for duty and would be back on the bridge tomorrow, after spending the remainder of today going through ship's logs. Both he and Nyota would resume their normal schedules. They would be alone together by 1800 hours tomorrow.
Nyota was attempting to meditate in their cabin. She had to get her longing for him under control. She wished that he were here.
It had been one 'long ass week'. Both Spock and her schedules were a disaster. Damn Jim Kirk. She knew she should feel sorry for him; he was miserably sick. But she had a sneaking suspicion it hadn't been some air bourne alien bug that had taken him out, but rather something he picked up getting his lips a little too close to the 'new life, new civilizations'. 'Yes', she grimaced to herself, ' damn you captain, you get sick trying to get a piece of alien ass and I haven't been laid since.' Bastard.
So here she was trying to center herself, if not for her own peace of mind, than for Spock's. She was sure she was making him miserable. Being connected telepathically, while disconcerting at first, had been a comfort in their relationship. This week he reached out to her often, trying to make up for their physical separation through their invisible thread. She relished the feeling of him brushing against her mind, like the softest of kisses. At random times she would feel as if he had walked to her shoulder and rested his hand on the small of her back in a quite hug. She would find herself imagining his breath on her cheek, turning to press her lips to his.
"Nyota" She could hear the sigh in his thoughts, a gentle chastisement.
Shit! I am so not helping this situation.
"Sorry, Spock." She tried to sound contrite and put up her mental shields, while also trying to suppress that fact she was horny as hell. She needed to focus now, before Spock high tailed it from the bridge, only to get thrown in the brig for abandoning his post. In the brig...hmmm, that would be amazingly hot.
She could feel what she referred to as Spock mentally clearing his throat.
Nyota thought having no real contact for a week was not going to be a big deal. They had been married over a year and they would see each other on the bridge, after all. But sharing glimpses on the bridge had made it worse. He was there, yet right out of reach. She could see, but not touch. She didn't even want to think about when they actually had to talk, when he would stand close enough for her to smell his skin.
Yesterday she had spent a decent part of her shift on the bridge staring at the back of his head as he sat in the Captain's chair. His hair was so soft at the nape of his neck, she had thought, while her eyes drank him in. She loved the way the fine hairs felt on her fingers tips. There were times when she would rub and scratch him there and his eyes would drift shut like a lazy cat. In fact, she observed, he seemed to be stretched out in that chair just like a big relaxed cat. His legs went on forever. Suddenly she got a very clear mental picture of her between said legs, in front of said chair, his pants drawn to his knees as she leaned forward to take his engorged member into...
Spock's head had quickly turned to the side and down as if he was looking at the floor. His face was as impassive as ever, but she knew she was getting the Vulcan version of the dirty stink eye. She turned just as quickly to face her console, stifling a giggle. 'If we were working our normal schedules, he would be sticking it too me in two short hours for that little mental image...and it would be wonderful,' she mused longingly. But they weren't working their normal schedules...'damn it!'
He coughed, upon catching her realization. Nyota knew that was Spock's smug Vulcan version of a laugh, payback already served for her thinking about servicing him on the bridge. She could feel his amusement. He could control his hormones; he knew she was going to get the most misery from letting her mind wander down that road.
Nyota gave up on trying to get 'centered' and rose to dress for duty. She would be working in a communications lab with a few others to get ready for their diplomatic guests.
She walked to the bed room, stripping off her robe and pulling her uniform from the closet, then stopped to draw her hand down the arm of Spock's blue tunic, hanging next to hers. She pulled the sleeve forward and touched it to her cheek.
"I miss you." she said, feeling the fibers against her face. She bit her lip and started to drag her hand up her naked thigh, the mere thought of him making her sex throb. Just as her fingers brushed the soft hairs of her mound the comm beeped.
"Bridge calling Lieutenant Uhura, acknowledge."
Well, now she just wanted to cry. She threw her uniform on the bed, walked to the comm and pressed a button for voice only.
"Your presence is requested on the bridge by Commander Spock before reporting to your assignment for the day."
"Acknowledged. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Uhura out."
When Nyota arrived on the bridge, Spock was nowhere to be seen. Ensign Townsend flagged her over to communications.
"The commander is waiting for you in the conference room." she stated, indicating the direction Spock was located.
"Thank you, Ensign." She replied.
Nyota crossed the bridge and entered the conference room to find Spock. He sat, his attention focused on the communication console. She took a seat across from him and waited in silence. She felt disconcerted. Spock was mentally blocking her, his shields firmly in place. Something was wrong.
"We have been hailed by the USS Reliant. They are to rendezvous with us tomorrow to transfer the delegates they are carrying to us for transport." He paused. She remained silent.
"They also informed us Ambassador Gorn of Talos Three has lost the assistance of his chief aid and interpreter to illness."
"You are the only officer on board fluent in his language and are being assigned to assist him, both here and while on Earth." He looked at her.
No! No! No! They were going to be apart for another week! She felt her chest seize up and fought it down. 'This is part of the job,' she told herself in irritation. She cleared her throat and returned his gaze.
"I understand, Sir. I will make the necessary adjustments to the communications officer's schedule to ensure my duties on the ship are covered." She was pushing hard against the disappointment flooding her system. "If there isn't anything else. Sir, I should report to the comm lab." She needed to get out of here, she told herself. She was being emotional, even for a human. She rose to leave. Spock left his seat as well and circled to her side of the table, as if to follow her out. He reached for her arm and brought her to a stop instead.
Nyota turned to face him and found him already dangerously close. She felt his breath on her cheek as he leaned his head to hers, just as she had imagined it, earlier in the week. He began to back her toward the rear wall.
"I believe the Ambassador will be tired when he arrives, Lieutenant." Spock's hand was tangled in her long ponytail. "He will accept a brief tour of the ship, then wish to retire." He was peppering kisses along her jaw. He pressed her into the ships hull and captured her mouth, their hot breath mingling.
He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head until she looked him directly in the eyes. "We will be together tomorrow evening, Adun'a (wife)." He pushed her arms up over her head, stretching her before him. "As for the rest of the week, your free moments will not be free. I will have you ashayam (beloved), I will hunt you down."
Nyota gasped as he bit down on her ear lobe and then sucked it into his mouth. Her core was pulsing again. Spock released her ear, but kept his lips pressed to it.
"One more thing, ashalik (darling)." He spoke quietly as he bound both her wrists with one hand and lowered the other to cup her between her thighs. "I feel your absence acutely as well...but this," he grazed her sex with his fingertips, " belongs to me." His hand tightened, gripping her with its blistering heat. "If I can not touch it," he stroked her gently, "neither can you."
He placed one last, lingering kiss on her lips, straightened his uniform and walked away.