It was a fortunate thing that she just happened to be near the entrance to her quarters when the door chimed. Otherwise, she might just have ignored the sound. The past few days had been chancy, what with the captain disobeying orders and all, and she really wasn't in the mood for another round of gossip with Jamal or Rand.

"I wasn't expecting you, Mr. Spock!" Uhura stepped aside to allow the Vulcan first officer into her quarters. "Wasn't our ka'athyra lesson scheduled for tomorrow night?"

Almost immediately, she wanted to kick herself for the inane comment; he wasn't even carrying his Vulcan lyre. She wondered why he'd come.

"Lt. Uhura," Spock said, "I have a favor to ask of you."

It was on the tip of her tongue to say "Yes, of course" just to cover her embarrassment when she noticed a light sweat had broken out between his upswept brows. Weren't Vulcans supposed to lack sweat glands? Perhaps that was his human half showing.

With a burble of shame, she remembered the reason they'd gone to Vulcan in the first place. He's been ill enough that the captain had ordered the Enterprise to Mr. Spock's homeworld in defiance of Admiral Komack's orders!

"Why don't you have a seat?" she invited, smiling encouragingly.

In one, two, three awkward steps, he was across the small room. He dropped onto her little sofa as if his legs could no longer bear his weight, only to pop up again as she sank gracefully into the space beside him.

Uhura watched, first in faint amusement, then increasing worry as Spock paced, wrist clasped in hand behind his back, muttering to himself.

"A favor, Mr. Spock?" she prompted.

He stopped suddenly and faced her. Looming so close, she was forced her crane her neck uncomfortably to see his face.

"Yes," he rasped. "I need your assistance."

"Would you like to let me know with what?"

"I–I cannot—"

"Well, if you want me to help you," she interrupted, "you're going to have to tell me something about it, sir."

He wasn't making much sense, and she figured anything that made the unflappable Mr. Spock this uneasy was likely something she didn't want to deal with.

Almost as if he'd reached the same conclusion, he sighed and seemed to sink into himself. Resuming his pacing, in vain he opened his mouth to speak several times. All without looking at her again. Uhura took the opportunity to ease off the sofa and walk over to her little kitchenette.

"I'm going make us some tea while you get your thoughts together," she offered, and he nodded gruffly, still apparently lost in his own thoughts.

The kettle boiled and she quickly prepared the beverage, stuffing tea leaves hastily into a strainer then putting the lot to steep in a pot. She turned to tell him it would be ready in moments, only to find he'd silently crept up behind her.

For far longer than could be considered comfortable, Spock stared down, his eyes so glazed she couldn't tell if he was looking at her or through her.

"It is a thing no out-worlder may know except those very few who have been involved," he finally said in such a sing-song rote, she wondered if he was merely repeating something he had recently said, elsewhere. "A Vulcan understands, but even we do not speak of it among ourselves. It is a deeply personal thing."

"I'm afraid I don't understand where you're going with this, Mr. Spock," Uhura said doubtfully, taking what she hoped was a surreptitious step back.

Fortunately for the communications officer, he was too preoccupied with trying to figure out how to tell her whatever it was he was trying to tell her to notice anything but the hands he was wringing in a decidedly unSpockish show of anxiety.

"It is the Pon farr," he murmured, as if that explained everything.

"I don't know what that means," she said, and was startled to find her own voice was little more than a choked whisper.

All at once, she became aware of the heat rolling off him in waves. He was sweating again, still lightly, but now his upper lip gleamed along with his forehead. She noticed the tell-tale bulge in his trousers just as he said, "The time of mating."

"Oh!" she squeaked. Then, "O-oh!"

Spock stepped closer and she backed again until there was nowhere to go.

"Mr. Spock?" Somehow, her voice was no longer high and chirpy. It was dark and sultry, an invitation that beckoned him closer. And she wanted him to heed the call.

"Yes, Ms. Uhura?" His voice smoldered her name.

"Are you asking me to have sex with you?"


"Why me?"

His answer was a kiss that made her toes go numb.


Even if he hadn't explained that the Pon farr was a mate-or-die kind of situation for Vulcan males, she wouldn't have refused him. No one had ever accused Nyota Uhura of being stupid. Roughly eighty percent of the females, twenty-seven percent of the males and a full sixty-percent of the genderless or multi-gendered beings on the ship lusted after their first officer. Who was she to say no to the bragging rights bagging him would bring?

"I must warn you," Spock murmured against the sensitive skin of her neck as he danced her back towards her sleeping alcove, "the Time strips us of our logic. My passions shall be unbridled." Spinning her around so that his rigid lok pressed against her backside, he shoved a hand down the front of her shirt and began expertly caressing her nipple. "I will seek only your pleasure and mine." His other hand crept beneath her skirt, and long, dexterous fingers slipped past her panties to twist themselves into her damp heat. "I wish to devour you, and soon you will be begging me to bring you release."

Well, now that certainly sounded like a plan Uhura was more than willing to get behind! She moaned her approval.

"Computer," he said, his voice full of enticing confidence, "engage sound-proofing. Maximum degree."

"Maximum-level soundproofing engaged," came the automated response.

Before she knew it, he had her flat on her back across the bed — her clothes and his scattered around her quarters — and was kneeling between her thighs. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, now tweaking an engorged nipple, now fluttering over her swollen nether lips, stroking her thighs, smoothing her soft belly, tangling in her hair. Spock in the flesh was better than her fantasies had ever been!

He leaned forward, inhaling deeply. "Sakalar t'Surak!" he groaned. "Your aroma is more intoxicating than chocolate. I must taste your captivating elixir."

In what felt like about three seconds that took an entire lifetime, Spock had reduced her to a quivering mass teeming with hormonal confusion. She didn't know where to put her hands or what to do with her mouth. He was raising her to heights she'd never reached before and wasn't giving her anything to hold onto.

"Fmungu!" she called out, too enmeshed in blissful waves of ecstasy to care about proper enunciation. She thrashed about the bed, arms flailing, hips bucking against the sudden grip of his strong hands. Spock continued to devour her.

His tongue skimmed along her slit again, delving in and around her folds, stoking the fire his fingers had first ignited. Firming his succulent lips, he encircled the sensitive nubbin of nerve-filled flesh at the head of her mound and applied just enough pressure to make her gasp in anticipation. "Unmgumf!"

She felt his mouth stretch into a wide grin, but his tongue darted out and took up where his lips had left off and she didn't have time to wonder about the unheard-of occurrence.

"I want to bury myself inside you, Ms. Uhura," he declared, without changing position. "I wish to go so deep you scream my name loud enough for the entire ship to hear you."

It would have been churlish to protest when the guy who had his head between your thighs — and whose tongue vibrated against your clit with every word — said he wanted to make you scream.

"Yermmgf!" she pleaded.

His mouth left her sex, leaving her momentarily bereft, but then suddenly her feet were spinning away from the edge of the narrow bed and he was climbing up beside her.

"Open your legs," he ordered urgently. "I need to feel you wrapped all around me. I burn for you, Ms. Uhura."

There was something kinky about the way he addressed her so formally even in the midst of this passionate display, and that thought plunged her right back into the mystifying milieu of superfluous stimulation.

With one swift stroke, he drove into her, eliciting an astonished cry of wonder and delight.

He thrust once, twice, three more times, and then — with a shudder that seemed to begin at his shoulders before coursing down the rest of his body until even his toes were trembling and a guttural roar — his lok jerked and then exploded inside her.

Uhura lay beneath him as he panted through the aftershocks that occasionally rocked his body. Just as the weight of him was becoming exasperating rather than exhilarating — round about the same time it began to sink in that he really was done — Spock slipped out and rolled over.

She didn't know what to say. It was difficult enough to look at him; finding the words to express what she was feeling seemed damned near impossible.

Slowly, his breathing returned to its normal steady rhythm, and she felt the mattress shift as he turned to her. She shivered — in revulsion rather than rapture — when he trailed a finger down her cheek. Like or not, she had no choice but to face him.

A lazy smile lifted the corners of his mouth when she met his gaze. At first the unheard-of-in-Mr.-Spock expression was so startling, she almost forgot her annoyance. But then her achingly unfulfilled sex reminded her she'd missed out and it all came crashing back.

"Thank you, Ms. Uhura," Spock murmured in that deliciously deep rumble she had until moments ago found so appealing. Talk about false advertising! "I know I should apologize for the untamed nature of our recent activities, but I find I am still too sated and suffused with endorphins to be truly sorry."

Glowering, Uhura batted away his hand, and his smile disappeared along with it.

"Well," she snorted, "it's nice to know one of us had a good time!"


Utterly perplexed, he continued to stare at the woman who had given him more pleasure than he'd experienced in all of his thirty-five Sol years of life. The woman for whom his lok was already twitching and lengthening and thickening in anticipation of experiencing said pleasure again.

"You… did not achieve completion?" he cautiously queried. It might not be wise to admit he'd been too lost in his own storm of sensation to monitor her response to their intercourse.

"Did you hear me scream?" Her mutinous glare confirmed what her words implied. Sakalar t'Surak.

Spock's lok gave another pitiful twitch, straining towards the wet depths of Uhura's silken core. He felt his hard-won sense of relaxation and satiation slip away as she continued to glare at him and his body continued to crave hers.

"Perhaps," he proposed, "it would be prudent if we tried again."

"Oh sure! How does 'when Hell freezes over' work for you?" she suggested.

He winced at the venom in her voice, but remained undeterred.

"I am inclined to think now would prove a wiser time," he pointed out, glancing down to where his lok was pointing at her. "That is, if you are amenable to showing me how to please you."

Uhura followed his gaze to the dark olive green appendage throbbing between them.

"Oh!" she said. Then, "O-oh! In that case, you'd better pay close attention, Mister. Both of you had better!"


In this, as in every task he attempted, Spock meant to accept nothing less from himself than near-perfection. He listened attentively, committing everything she told him to his almost eidetic memory. He made note of her facial expressions as she told him what she wanted him to do. He immediately began calculating variations of the positions on her extensive list. He estimated what possible heights of nirvana he might attain by following her instructions. And then he set to work.


He filled her with one quick thrust, but she kept her lips stubbornly pressed together, unwilling to reward him for services only half-rendered.

She said nothing about how the warmth of his body curving against her back as one of his hands strummed her nipples while the other thumbed her clit left her incapable of focusing on anything other than those fingers, that heat and the steady thwack of his balls against her flesh beating in time with the stroke, stroke, stroke of his cock in her core.

Then the pressure was mounting, pushing her up, up, up until she burst, screaming his name, through the ceiling, past the ship's uppermost seven decks, through the hull and out amongst the stars. Even as a multitude of lights and colors exploded behind her eyes, he was folding his knees beneath his thighs, turning to her face him and wrapping her legs around him — without ever losing his rhythm and the stroke, stroke, stroke was stealing her mind a second time.

Neither she, nor any of their crewmates were the wiser when she called out "Mr. Spock!" over and over, long into the night.

A/N: ThreeB_1973 wrote:

I still want my smut/crack fic where TOS Spock asks Uhura to help him through Ponn Farr, and plays up the whole "I will lose all control and it will be raw, primal sex" angle, and Uhura is ticked off and disappointed when the whole thing lasts about two minutes (cause Vulcan's have a different definition of "lose control" and "primal" than do humans). And Uhura takes it on herself to teach him the difference.

I have requested this several times in several comms, and I will continue to do so until somebody writes the damned thing :-)

The wait is over woman and I hear a couple of others are also taking up the challenge.