[ There is always work to do for Starfleet, even when they are grounded for a refit. And with two such talented individuals as Spock and Nyota, it is not surprising that Starfleet has odd jobs for them, work that requires distance between them, immeasurable by simple miles.
Spock can admit he misses people, now. It is a slow, fraught acceptance to the idea of admitting to anything remotely emotional, but the sorrow in his father's eyes, and in the eyes of his counterpart, forces Spock to acknowledge a truth: not only is he human, but Vulcans also feel - and deeply at that. He does not admit to Nyota during their brief, infrequent communications during their time apart that he misses her, but carries it around inside his chest.
Time does not pass faster or slower for Spock, as he counts down the days until the work is done and they are united once again. (Time passes at the same pace as it always does; he does not understand the human concept of time passing differently.) Nor do the days get easier to manage. (They were always perfectly acceptable.) But he finds he is looking forward to seeing her again, anticipates their reunion.
He returns to Earth with little fanfare, goes through the briefing, and retreats to his apartment, finding Nyota there as expected. He greets her with something almost like a small on his lips and dips his head to hers, pressing a kiss to her lips as his fingers seek hers out. ]
[Separations like this were to be expected long before they made their relationship publicly known. Nyota was fine with it, knowing her independence and commitment to complete every task handed to her by Starfleet would carry her through. That, however, doesn't mean that there's no heavy weight in her stomach when her thoughts turn to towards Spock, a feeling that twists inside and rides up to her heart giving her a kind of pain that even Dr. McCoy can't measure with his tricorder. The doctor would probably understand it if Nyota told him, but it's a secret she keeps close to her chest. Something private, something only she really needs to know about because no one else has a solution for it.
Unlike Spock, Nyota tells him that she misses him in the few times they manage to send messages to each other. They are always short--never enough time to really say what she wants to say, never enough time for her to interpret what Spock doesn't--but they are long enough for her to make sure he is still alive, uninjured in any way, and still her Spock.
He'd argue about the logicality of belonging to her as she did not purchase him in a shop or barter for him, but all Nyota would do is smile and flip her ponytail in that way that indicates she never wants that part of him to change.
Reports and records are submitted and discussions are had with the top Starfleet brass, responsibilities Nyota meets with full professionalism. As soon as they are completed, she travels to Spock's apartment and showers, washing the day away and leaving in its place just the scent of cleanliness and her, making sure to use the unscented soap she keeps stocked on her side of the bathroom counter so Spock doesn't come home to an unwelcome assault on his senses. By the time he arrives, her hair is still barely damp, hanging loose along her shoulders and threatening to curl as she lays across his sofa, sitting up when she hears the door open.
The smile, or in truth the implication of one is caught and the pain in her chest dissolves on sight of it being replaced with an obvious one of her own. He's happy to see her. She's happy to see him. The silence of their greeting is nothing to make commentary of. A simple hey is unnecessary, not when his lips are on hers, and his fingers find hers for a much more intimate embrace. Nyota knows what Spock is looking for, what he is in need of, and like he showed her one night early in their relationship, she curls two of her fingers to slip against the backs of his.]
[ Until the destruction of Vulcan, Spock had no concept of home. He understood the term well enough, but the underlying meaning of warmth and comfort and a place to simply be was lost amid the cool, detached logic with which Spock surrounded himself. Before the destruction of his planet, home was simply a place - the place where one was born, the place where one resides. Nothing more, nothing less. It has only been recently that he has had an understanding of the deeper concepts of home, and it is less a specific place for him than is the company of the individuals who share his space. Home is as much the Enterprise as it is his apartment, because home is presence of those who have accepted him as he is now.
It is gratifying in ways he cannot accurately express to return to Nyota, to breathe in her unique scent and the familiar smells of his apartment, and to feel her touch against his skin. He does not deliberately try to read her emotions, but he can feel her happiness, a pleasant feeling he finds immensely soothing. One of the things that drew Spock to Nyota was her structured mind and the intelligence of her thoughts, and after being gone for weeks, he revels in her presence.
It is just a soft, small kiss and he breaks it after a moment, though he continues to touch her fingers. ]
Greetings, Nyota.
[ A bit late, and he will not follow it with the obvious I have returned, as that is evident. He does not appreciate small talk, and even the chance to simply stand in her presence, in quiet, is welcome. ]
[Kenya has and will always be home for Nyota, regardless of where she is and what time she's in. It's where she was born and raised, where her toes dug into the moist soil of her backyard after a rainstorm, where she was taught to be kind and intelligent, that education was important because no war or enemies could ever take that from her. It is where her family still resides, where she creates time to visit every so often to connect with her parents and catch up with her siblings, immersing herself in her native culture with food and music and her mother tongue.
But there is no law or regulation that says a person cannot have more than one home or even more than two. The ship is also a home. Surrounded by people day in and day out, to the edges of the universe, struggling to put all the pieces back together in the face of constant loss, is something that makes cold steel a warm home.
Spock, himself, is Nyota's third home. He is the column she finds herself bracing against, reveling in his ability to tuck away his emotions while allowing her to have hers open and unbidden. He is where she rests her body, parting her thighs to take him inside her, creating a day to day ritual around meals, housework, and partaking in their own interests.
She's given him permission to take a peek into her mind in the past, to pick up what she chooses not to put down, and Nyota is grateful that Spock has never used this for nefarious purposes. Nyota almost barely ever feels him inside her head, not without asking for express permission immediately beforehand, and knowing that he sometimes doesn't need to just to know how she feels says how far he's come.
The kiss ends far too soon for her liking, and the verbal greeting is late, yes, but still very much appreciated.]
Welcome home, Spock.
[Welcome back to her, to everything he needs from her that she is willing to give.]
[ With no express permission, Spock keeps his shields up; it is no hardship, no struggle because it is how he lives - among humans and Vulcans alike, he maintains mental shields that allow him to keep his composure and allow him to interact with little issue. He projects no feelings, picks up very little about other people. His telepathy is something central, but also near sacred for Spock: to use it against someone's volition would be anathema. It makes staying out of Nyota's head simple, makes it so he never even considers using his telepathy for something nefarious against her.
It is a privilege to know her mind, one he does not intend to forsake.
Spock drops his fingers from hers to wrap his arms around her waist, hands settling low on her hips so he can pull her in close. Spock is always in control - he can count the number of times he has lost control on one hand and each of them is a deep shame - and does not feel anxiety or displeasure from traveling in close quarters with strangers, does not find it difficult to adjust to new places. But he finds it gratifying to return to his own apartment and take in familiar sights. He has no reason to prefer his own bed, but sleeping in it shall be advantageous to his physical condition. His nose is sensitive, but he has adjusted to the unique smells produced by cities and space docks and a thousand milling individuals, so he has no reason to lower his head to Nyota's shoulder and press his nose against the juncture of her neck and breathe in the scents unique to her.
But he does, closing his eyes as he allows himself a moment to simply accept the pleasure it brings him. ]
[It is a privilege, given to him out of love and respect, and though it is not one he takes advantage of, it doesn't mean Nyota hides anything in her mind from him. What she thinks she says, never hesitating to tell Spock how she feels for him, what his presence in her life means, and what she desires most from him in and out of the bedroom. He knows she's missed him because she's told him. He knows that after they've finishing taking their time greeting each other in their own particular way, she wants to move things along into the bedroom and show him other ways of welcoming him home.
Though she made sure to eschew any strong fragrances, Nyota still rubbed her usual cocoa butter across her fresh from the shower skin, giving it not just a golden sheen, but a mild inoffensive scent. She's fully aware of what Spock is doing and she is not only amused, but honored. For a man whose nose can bring him all sorts of suffering, to take in her scent after being apart for so long, she can't help but tip her head back for him to take all he needs, all he wants.]
[ Spock has always been an unusually strong telepath, his skills exceeding most of his peers, but he has always been careful to maintain control, and if his head was slightly empty, slightly lonely, he never noticed. His life was dominated by his parents and his schooling until Starfleet, and then it was dominated by Starfleet and the way he rose through the ranks. It was not until Nyota that he realized his head, his life was what most individuals would deem "lonely," and then he had an exceptional individual to fill in any holes.
The fact that she is willing to talk to him and work out any issues that might arise because of their differing cultural histories means their relationship is even stronger than relying on the need to guess or read her emotions. Returning home to her is gratifying, because Nyota understands him in ways very few others even attempt.
Beneath the smell of the cocoa butter - a smell he has come to associate with his girlfriend, by the point - he can smell her own scent, and when she tips her head back, exposing more of her neck, he drags his nose, and his lips, up the column of her throat. He does not need to attempt to smell or read her arousal, because he knows she desires him, just as he desires her, knows that this will progress into their bedroom, all without saying much.
He drags his hands up her back and back down before releasing her, reaching for her hand again so he can lead her into the room. ]
[Maybe it's her passion for languages, and in turn the cultures they stem from, that drew her to him. After all, aside from not being fully human and her former instrctor, his personality is the complete opposite of hers. While his face remains stoic except for the rare times she's seen a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, Nyota is quick to grin, even quicker to lay a comforting hand on someone's shoulder in their emotional time of need. She is the sun, a bright and warm shining ray of light, and he is the moon, sometimes considered cold but still instrumental at times.
But opposites certainly attract and that is indeed why they work so well, regardless of the friction sometimes caused by their differences. She has experience to look back on, old lovers to think of and consider what she needs and wants the most out of her relationship with Spock. Nyota knows she has the upper hand here with that, but she never feels like it's something to be wielded as a weapon. No, instead, she brings it out gently, giving it to him so he can understand where she has been and where she's going and for him to show her what he has (or doesn't in this case) in exchange.
Nyota is reluctant to let go of her hold on him, fingers curled and gripped in the folds of his shirt. She sighs softly with a little hum as she feels his cool lips skate across her warmer skin, but then whines almost inaudibly when Spock pulls back. Certainly she could stand to stay here in the middle of his living room and hold him a little longer, but once Nyota feels his hand in hers, her reluctance fades away and is replaced with a small knowing smile as she follows him down the hall. Yes, the next step is definitely a better option than just standing here. She won't even try to argue against it.]
[ There is something bright about Nyota, warm and inviting even to Spock. Most people are not. They find his logic and his control cold and robotic and he in turn finds them overly... everything. Too loud, too bright, too emotional. Nyota might be bright and emotional, but it was soothing rather than painful, a meshing of their personalities rather than a conflict.
He knew, in a world where experience was important in any field, that his lack of expertise in relationships was a hindrance, especially when he considered the complications of dating a non-Vulcan, and a human dating a Vulcan. It had made him hesitate, at first, but there had never been regrets - instead, he had appreciated the guidance and the ability to learn more of this stunning woman who cares for him, and for whom he cares in return.
The tight fingers in his shirt and the soft whine bring a slight twist of his lips, something that might almost pass as a smile for Spock. It is gratifying, illogically, to know that she would be content to stand there and allow him to hold and kiss her, and drink in the smell of home. But the bedroom is a better option for them, as it means a bed, where he can feel the weight of her pressed against his body, or the warmth of her skin seeping into his.
He turns to her again, once they have entered the room and the door slides shut behind them, settling his hands on her hips and going in for another kiss, deeper this time, drawing it out as long as he can. ]
[Though there is no one on the other side, Nyota has never been more grateful for closed door. It's more symbolic of finally having some time to themselves, some privacy, with no risk of someone coming to bang on it to catch their attentions or a strong tense voice over a ship's loudspeaker calling them back to the bridge even though their shift is over.
Once his hands reach her hips, hers are in motion too, climbing under his shirt hem and skating across his back just to come around to his front. The Starfleet uniform does his body no justice; Nyota spreads her fingers across the rippled muscles of his stomach as she sighs softly into his mouth. The fitness of Spock's body always feels like her little secret, being the only one to see it and touch it and most of all, taste it.
And speaking of that, as much as it pains her again, Nyota pulls out of the kiss, licking the taste of him off her lips before speaking.]
Lay down.
[It's more of a request with her questioning tone than it is a demand. He has room to say no if he has other plans.]
[ He has no plans; all of his intent had been to be close to her, seek comfort in her arms, something he rarely seeks and almost never finds. So he steps away from her, moving slowly, his hands lingering on her hips before he drops them back to his side and takes the few steps to the bed.
Though she did not request, he removes his shoes and socks, tucking them aside. He won't be going out again tonight. Next is his shirt, removed and folded and set aside for laundering later. He leaves his pants alone; those can come off later, especially has she hasn't indicated anything more, yet.
Spock sits down on the edge of the bed before lying back, the movements simple and efficient and almost graceful for that. He watches Nyota, however, eyes dark as he studies her face. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
set maybe in some pre-Beyond time?
Spock can admit he misses people, now. It is a slow, fraught acceptance to the idea of admitting to anything remotely emotional, but the sorrow in his father's eyes, and in the eyes of his counterpart, forces Spock to acknowledge a truth: not only is he human, but Vulcans also feel - and deeply at that. He does not admit to Nyota during their brief, infrequent communications during their time apart that he misses her, but carries it around inside his chest.
Time does not pass faster or slower for Spock, as he counts down the days until the work is done and they are united once again. (Time passes at the same pace as it always does; he does not understand the human concept of time passing differently.) Nor do the days get easier to manage. (They were always perfectly acceptable.) But he finds he is looking forward to seeing her again, anticipates their reunion.
He returns to Earth with little fanfare, goes through the briefing, and retreats to his apartment, finding Nyota there as expected. He greets her with something almost like a small on his lips and dips his head to hers, pressing a kiss to her lips as his fingers seek hers out. ]
no subject
Unlike Spock, Nyota tells him that she misses him in the few times they manage to send messages to each other. They are always short--never enough time to really say what she wants to say, never enough time for her to interpret what Spock doesn't--but they are long enough for her to make sure he is still alive, uninjured in any way, and still her Spock.
He'd argue about the logicality of belonging to her as she did not purchase him in a shop or barter for him, but all Nyota would do is smile and flip her ponytail in that way that indicates she never wants that part of him to change.
Reports and records are submitted and discussions are had with the top Starfleet brass, responsibilities Nyota meets with full professionalism. As soon as they are completed, she travels to Spock's apartment and showers, washing the day away and leaving in its place just the scent of cleanliness and her, making sure to use the unscented soap she keeps stocked on her side of the bathroom counter so Spock doesn't come home to an unwelcome assault on his senses. By the time he arrives, her hair is still barely damp, hanging loose along her shoulders and threatening to curl as she lays across his sofa, sitting up when she hears the door open.
The smile, or in truth the implication of one is caught and the pain in her chest dissolves on sight of it being replaced with an obvious one of her own. He's happy to see her. She's happy to see him. The silence of their greeting is nothing to make commentary of. A simple hey is unnecessary, not when his lips are on hers, and his fingers find hers for a much more intimate embrace. Nyota knows what Spock is looking for, what he is in need of, and like he showed her one night early in their relationship, she curls two of her fingers to slip against the backs of his.]
no subject
It is gratifying in ways he cannot accurately express to return to Nyota, to breathe in her unique scent and the familiar smells of his apartment, and to feel her touch against his skin. He does not deliberately try to read her emotions, but he can feel her happiness, a pleasant feeling he finds immensely soothing. One of the things that drew Spock to Nyota was her structured mind and the intelligence of her thoughts, and after being gone for weeks, he revels in her presence.
It is just a soft, small kiss and he breaks it after a moment, though he continues to touch her fingers. ]
Greetings, Nyota.
[ A bit late, and he will not follow it with the obvious I have returned, as that is evident. He does not appreciate small talk, and even the chance to simply stand in her presence, in quiet, is welcome. ]
no subject
But there is no law or regulation that says a person cannot have more than one home or even more than two. The ship is also a home. Surrounded by people day in and day out, to the edges of the universe, struggling to put all the pieces back together in the face of constant loss, is something that makes cold steel a warm home.
Spock, himself, is Nyota's third home. He is the column she finds herself bracing against, reveling in his ability to tuck away his emotions while allowing her to have hers open and unbidden. He is where she rests her body, parting her thighs to take him inside her, creating a day to day ritual around meals, housework, and partaking in their own interests.
She's given him permission to take a peek into her mind in the past, to pick up what she chooses not to put down, and Nyota is grateful that Spock has never used this for nefarious purposes. Nyota almost barely ever feels him inside her head, not without asking for express permission immediately beforehand, and knowing that he sometimes doesn't need to just to know how she feels says how far he's come.
The kiss ends far too soon for her liking, and the verbal greeting is late, yes, but still very much appreciated.]
Welcome home, Spock.
[Welcome back to her, to everything he needs from her that she is willing to give.]
no subject
It is a privilege to know her mind, one he does not intend to forsake.
Spock drops his fingers from hers to wrap his arms around her waist, hands settling low on her hips so he can pull her in close. Spock is always in control - he can count the number of times he has lost control on one hand and each of them is a deep shame - and does not feel anxiety or displeasure from traveling in close quarters with strangers, does not find it difficult to adjust to new places. But he finds it gratifying to return to his own apartment and take in familiar sights. He has no reason to prefer his own bed, but sleeping in it shall be advantageous to his physical condition. His nose is sensitive, but he has adjusted to the unique smells produced by cities and space docks and a thousand milling individuals, so he has no reason to lower his head to Nyota's shoulder and press his nose against the juncture of her neck and breathe in the scents unique to her.
But he does, closing his eyes as he allows himself a moment to simply accept the pleasure it brings him. ]
no subject
Though she made sure to eschew any strong fragrances, Nyota still rubbed her usual cocoa butter across her fresh from the shower skin, giving it not just a golden sheen, but a mild inoffensive scent. She's fully aware of what Spock is doing and she is not only amused, but honored. For a man whose nose can bring him all sorts of suffering, to take in her scent after being apart for so long, she can't help but tip her head back for him to take all he needs, all he wants.]
no subject
The fact that she is willing to talk to him and work out any issues that might arise because of their differing cultural histories means their relationship is even stronger than relying on the need to guess or read her emotions. Returning home to her is gratifying, because Nyota understands him in ways very few others even attempt.
Beneath the smell of the cocoa butter - a smell he has come to associate with his girlfriend, by the point - he can smell her own scent, and when she tips her head back, exposing more of her neck, he drags his nose, and his lips, up the column of her throat. He does not need to attempt to smell or read her arousal, because he knows she desires him, just as he desires her, knows that this will progress into their bedroom, all without saying much.
He drags his hands up her back and back down before releasing her, reaching for her hand again so he can lead her into the room. ]
no subject
But opposites certainly attract and that is indeed why they work so well, regardless of the friction sometimes caused by their differences. She has experience to look back on, old lovers to think of and consider what she needs and wants the most out of her relationship with Spock. Nyota knows she has the upper hand here with that, but she never feels like it's something to be wielded as a weapon. No, instead, she brings it out gently, giving it to him so he can understand where she has been and where she's going and for him to show her what he has (or doesn't in this case) in exchange.
Nyota is reluctant to let go of her hold on him, fingers curled and gripped in the folds of his shirt. She sighs softly with a little hum as she feels his cool lips skate across her warmer skin, but then whines almost inaudibly when Spock pulls back. Certainly she could stand to stay here in the middle of his living room and hold him a little longer, but once Nyota feels his hand in hers, her reluctance fades away and is replaced with a small knowing smile as she follows him down the hall. Yes, the next step is definitely a better option than just standing here. She won't even try to argue against it.]
no subject
He knew, in a world where experience was important in any field, that his lack of expertise in relationships was a hindrance, especially when he considered the complications of dating a non-Vulcan, and a human dating a Vulcan. It had made him hesitate, at first, but there had never been regrets - instead, he had appreciated the guidance and the ability to learn more of this stunning woman who cares for him, and for whom he cares in return.
The tight fingers in his shirt and the soft whine bring a slight twist of his lips, something that might almost pass as a smile for Spock. It is gratifying, illogically, to know that she would be content to stand there and allow him to hold and kiss her, and drink in the smell of home. But the bedroom is a better option for them, as it means a bed, where he can feel the weight of her pressed against his body, or the warmth of her skin seeping into his.
He turns to her again, once they have entered the room and the door slides shut behind them, settling his hands on her hips and going in for another kiss, deeper this time, drawing it out as long as he can. ]
no subject
Once his hands reach her hips, hers are in motion too, climbing under his shirt hem and skating across his back just to come around to his front. The Starfleet uniform does his body no justice; Nyota spreads her fingers across the rippled muscles of his stomach as she sighs softly into his mouth. The fitness of Spock's body always feels like her little secret, being the only one to see it and touch it and most of all, taste it.
And speaking of that, as much as it pains her again, Nyota pulls out of the kiss, licking the taste of him off her lips before speaking.]
Lay down.
[It's more of a request with her questioning tone than it is a demand. He has room to say no if he has other plans.]
no subject
Though she did not request, he removes his shoes and socks, tucking them aside. He won't be going out again tonight. Next is his shirt, removed and folded and set aside for laundering later. He leaves his pants alone; those can come off later, especially has she hasn't indicated anything more, yet.
Spock sits down on the edge of the bed before lying back, the movements simple and efficient and almost graceful for that. He watches Nyota, however, eyes dark as he studies her face. ]