A/N: You could call this a "first time" story. It'll definitely be a series (long or short, I haven't decided), and the rating is definitely subject to change. That said, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't intend to generate a profit from the characters or storylines I've used in the following work of fiction. Anything reminiscent of the Star Trek lore or reality is purely coincidental and does not, by any means, belong to me.


Translucent rivulets dribbled along gentle valleys of flesh as the mother stream mounted on the wall ceased its resilient cascade. The minute rills spanned the length of the woman's frame, wet veins of russet ornamenting every curvature of her physiognomy and spilling hazardously from her fingertips, her toes, the coppice of eyelashes grazing the surface of her cheeks as she clamped her eyes shut against the water. She drew her fingers across her face before tugging a towel free of the shower's topmost beam and streamed it parallel to her shoulders. The creature expelled a soft breath, the specter of her voice tainting the air as it oozed from her throat. Her fingers curled. The towel caressed her bare skin and contended with her shoulder blades as it engulfed her from behind, masking her svelteness in a plush cape of linen.

With one indelicate hand, she coaxed open the opaque pane of glass adjacent her and plunged a foot into the thick humidity pervading the room. She pinched the unremarkable fabric between her thumb and forefinger and meekly slid the shower door back in place with her subdominant hand. A pleasantly suffocated breath welled in her lungs and expanded her chest, the flats of her toes caressing the knit grasses of the Spartan floor mat unfurled atop the tile as she languorously traipsed before the bathroom sink. She shed the towel and painted the clouded mirror's face with a broad sweep of her hand bunched up within its folds. She scoured a drawer with the pads of her fingers alone and procured a brush, running it succinctly through her matted ochre tendrils and replacing it moments later.

Balanced effervescently on the balls of her feet, she pivoted about and approached the door handle with eager hands. Her towel snaked its way up lofty legs, embraced her hips with the fragility of an open palm, wandered across the slender rungs of her ribcage and ensnared her chest in an affixed embrace. She fled the bathroom on her toes, tawny strands weighted by wetness littering her shoulders, back and breast, in search of him.

The atmosphere in the foyer was not unlike that in the bathroom. The air was warm and tinged with the vaguely saccharine pungency of ignited candlewicks and the scalded petals of foreign flora. Darkness collided vibrantly with the iridescent eddies of firelight suspended on the ceiling and walls cast by roundels of clay encrusted candles. It was quiet and the ambiance was dense with soothing odor and heat, but something soared effortlessly, coalescent with candle fumes and the soundless song of tranquility. A simper transmuted the woman's naked lips as she stood idly beneath the stucco arc bridging the master bedroom and common area, watching him. In the vestibule's center, he was rooted by the haunches to the floor in a state of primal serenity. His eyes were closed listlessly and his mouth was fixated into the prim, untailored line as was habitual, evanescent breath percolated by splendid silence.

"Nyota," he stirred temperedly, although he made no effort to extensively jilt his meditation.

She leapt, eyes broadening at the suddenness and entirety of his awareness. The fleshy sinews of her neck contracted about the swallow disrupting its flawless composition. "Oh! I wasn't sure whether it was okay to say anything. I didn't mean to disrupt you, I'm sorry."

He did not address her with paltry lexis or the penetratingly dark depths of his eyes, but she was sated by the innate knowledge that his attention was with her.

"Thank you, though," she spoke complacently, "for letting me use your shower."

"Gratitude is an unnecessary sentiment, regarding the matter. Should you require the utilization of certain facilities to satisfy your needs, it is most efficient to make use of those nearest in proximity. You are permitted to use anything that best suits your physiognomic functions, free of expiratory limitation."

The woman snuffed an ingratiated chortle and ventured an exploratory few steps into the sanctity of the foyer. "I appreciate that."

The candlelight's diaphanous shimmer abruptly diminished, she found, as the decumbent male frame before her extended, expanded, and his eyes eschewed the spirituous draft of the room to life. He watched her beneath the daunt of half-hooded eyelids, his inscrutable irises cajoling her nearer and threatening to consume her with only the depth of their gaze. The cadet's gait stalled and she planted her heels in the polished floorboards upon which she stood. Their figures were linked only by a mutual glimpse, shared across meters of vacant space.

"Acknowledged," he said.

Had she stolen relief from the havoc of his sophist physique – the pensive intricacy in the way he deciphered her with a glance and the way she saw those impossibly swift and complicated thoughts flit across his eyes in methodic succession – she'd have missed the indulgent sweep of his sight across her frame. His immutable expression did not falter, evermore imperceptible. Her hands found the linen lip of the towel encompassing her chest in a bout of self-consciousness. An acutely human quality, he noted.

Her eyes turned upon the window pane behind the executive officer, the cityscape spread beyond it undetailed and marred by the blackness of night. She sighed and glanced quietly to her fingers. "Spock, I gotta go. It's getting late and if I don't make curfew again, my dorm advisor's gonna give me hell."

He nodded curtly. "I encourage that you abide dormitory regulations."

"Then I'll go change and let you get back to your meditation," she drawled lethargically as she stole a number of paces across the foyer. She subsidized hiatus and stood just before him, her toes curling against the laminated wood below and elevating her inch by inviting inch. A smirk teeming with intent unwound on the canvas of her lips. "Commander."

Spock pursed his brow demurely, a dour angle tilting his head and straining the capable sinews of his neck. "You adamantly requested that we refer to each other by given name in private, Nyota."

She chuckled, lurching forward as a means of goading him into her awaiting kiss. "I know, Spock, I'm poking fun."

His focus fell elsewhere as he allowed her lips to brush his, eyes clamping closed as he inhaled the young woman's aroma and relished in the very texture of her flesh. The man remained immobile and briefly unresponsive as the emotions saturating the surface of the alluring creature's skin transferred unto him. Jarred and temporarily compromised as he sought with a militant restraint to suppress and comprehend the passionate insights coursing through the human's dermal receptors. She had interpreted his cognitive aside to be hesitation, and he felt her festering sentiments cool. She retracted from the embrace and met his eyes with uncertainty.

Apprehensively, he nudged the bridge of her nose with the terse precipice of his brow, spine bowed as he approached her stature. "I am unfamiliar with the phrase," he mummered softly.

Her grin precipitated solace for them both, and she eliminated what pockets of air separated their frames. Uhura molded a hand to the inline of the lankier man's jaw, her fingertips impressing his pallid skin. His hands migrated to the slender canyon betwixt her hips and breast and interlaced at her lower waist. She grew conscious of her relative nudity as he held her aberrantly close. She pondered, with finality, the inhuman warmth radiating from the man in her arms and an akin fire kindled in the flesh of his immense and capable hands. Recalling the indecipherable survey he'd devoted to her figure and how diminutive she felt when swathed between his hands, the woman found herself vulnerable. The focal fixture in an oeuvre of maturing affinity, she had never been so aware of her weakness. She had never felt so very, very human.