A/N: Hi all! I am so sorry I didn't get this done sooner, but the whole Narada scene bothered me something fierce. I just couldn't figure out what to do with it… so I left it out. If I ever come up with a good idea of how to include another ship and keep it true to the movie, I'll edit it in. As it is, I'm sure that that wasn't the scene people have been waiting for anyways… so, forgive me?

Oh boy, I'm really not sure if I pulled this chapter off, I've never written this sort of thing before… but then again, this is my first story, so everything in here was a first.

Well, this is the final proper chapter, there will be an epilogue, but that's it. I do have a sequel of sorts hopping around in my head, but Aureya and Spock are not the focus in that. I am writing a Firefly thingy at the moment, but that crowd is dead quiet, or maybe my story just sucks… ah well.

Anyways, if you've never seen Firefly, I envy you; what I wouldn't give to be able to watch it for the first time again. (I hope I'm not in breach of some unspoken rule by recommending one fandom to another.)

A massive big thank you to everyone who reviewed, you've kept me going.

This chapter is dedicated to miller330, dean's leather jacket and vulcanvamp, who've been with me from day one, even though I deleted some of their reviews by accident. I love you guys, thank you so much.


The turbo lift felt decidedly crowded. Spock was partially wedged between his father and Ensign Chekov. Kirk, Mr Scott, Cadet P'Grell, Doctor McCoy and two of his medical officers were just to their right. Spock had not seen P'Grell since just before they had boarded the Enterprise, and the young man's noticeable physical change perturbed him somewhat. His eyes were rimmed with red, and while he had noticed this sign of grief on a number of others, the stark contrast this formed with his blue skin, was striking. His nose was likewise red, as if he had been crying rather violently. None of these signs, however, were quite as marked as the fact that the imposingly large man stood stooped, bent by an invisible force, and looked, for the first time in their brief acquaintance, fragile. It did not escape Spock's notice, that Kirk had placed his hand on the taller man's shoulder, and had left it there, squeezing gently at semi-regular intervals. He had not noticed it previously, clearly too enveloped in his own loss, but the Captain too, looked decidedly impaired. His mouth was set in a thin line, and a certain weariness to his eyes indicated pain and fury masterfully disguised. In order to distract himself from the fact that he had just thought of Kirk as 'the Captain' without so much as an inward shiver, and the peculiar sense of admiration suddenly growing without discernable reason, Spock decided to address the man in question.

"Sir, would you care to explain why you have deemed it wise to include my father in this greeting party?" He glanced briefly at Sarek, who merely raised one eyebrow, but remained otherwise expressionless.

"Well, Mr Spock, as much as I would hope that Bones and his posse here will jump the Orions as soon as they materialise, inject them, and prevent any possibility of them using their… ahm, whiles on us,… should anything go wrong, I'd rather have two immune… hold that thought, two and a half, Andorians are not as affected as humans,… no, wait, Chekov, don't you just throw up?" Clearly incapable of adhering to his original train of thought, he turned to the young man beside Spock.

"I am seventeen now, Sirr." Chekov sounded indignant.

"Well, never mind. As I was saying, I'd rather have two and a half unaffected men in the transporter room." Kirk picked up the abandoned thread.

"Wise choice, Sir. Two Vulcans against five Terrans and a semi-delirious Andorian, I admire your forethought." He did not hide the sharp sting of sarcasm in his voice.

To his credit, Kirk laughed. He gave Spock an appreciative grin and then noted:
"Well, at least we know you can kick the living daylight out of me. Also, Nurse Martin over there would just pass out."

Spock could not curtail a small quirk of the lips.

As the lift doors opened and they all filed into the transporter room, Mr Scott and Cadet P'Grell taking up station on the console, the medics positioning themselves right next to the platform, and Kirk, Chekov, Spock, and Sarek in a pseudo-formal group just beyond them, Spock could not help a strange feeling of foreboding. Deriding himself for allowing his grief addled brain to conjure up such superstitious figments; he stood up a little straighter and fixed his gaze firmly on the as yet empty platform.

"Energise, Scotty." Kirk ordered.

As the three swirling clouds of reconstituting matter settled into humanoid forms, Spock's mind split into several fragments. One of these observed the complete silence that had settle after a number of shuddering intakes of breath had been briefly audible. Mr Scott and the two medics brought along to assist McCoy were frozen in place not so much by who had just materialised on the transporter platform, but more so by the reactions of those immediately around them. In his peripheral vision he noticed Nurse Martin and the other medic share confused looks and trade a non-verbal exchange that amounted to "I'm fine, are you?", which was answered in the affirmative.

Another fragment of his mind studied the three women on the platform. Captain Iria was as tall as she had appeared on screen, she was dressed in pale brown trousers, a low cut blouse and an open waste coat, and while the outfit was not hiding any of her shape, it was far less revealing than what would be expected of an Orion female intent on seduction. To her left was a considerably younger and very familiar woman. Cadet Gaila was dressed in black trousers, a red suede corset and a small cardigan draped across her shoulders, her hair was piled on top of her head and she was grinning from ear to ear. On Captain Iria's right was another young woman. Legs clad in dark brown trousers, her upper body covered by a grey, tight fitting shirt and a brown leather corset, laced at the sides, which pushed her breasts up far enough to gently cushion the pendent around her neck. Her hair was pulled back from her forehead in two small braids on either side, leaving the rest of it to fall in wild curls around her face.

This was where the third and by far most substantial part of Spock's mind chose to linger: Aureya's face.

Her cheeks were flushed slightly, there were small tears in her eyes, but her lips were parted in a gentle smile and her eyes were intently focused on him. Blood was pounding in Spock's ears and he could no longer control his breathing as his pulse and respiration began to chase each other around his body. His mouth had fallen open and he could detect the faintest taste of panic on his tongue.

He was momentarily shaken from his stupor as a howl-like noise came from somewhere behind him and Cadet P'Grell threw himself forward, passing him and grabbing both young women by one arm, dragging them off the platform, and crushing them to his wide chest. The large man began to sob uncontrollably as two pairs of slender green arms encircled him. Chekov was the next to move, leaving Kirk's side and gently easing Aureya out of P'Grell's grasp, to hug her fiercely to his own, much smaller chest. She was crying now. Kirk took Gaila from P'Grell a moment later, only to relent as he pushed her back into the larger man so they were both hugging her. At this point Bones gave a little grunt and draped his arms around Aureya and Chekov.

"Fascinating," Spock heard his father's voice from just behind him "I have observed the effect of Orion pheromones before, I had no idea they could be this immediate and powerful."

Sarek appeared not to have recognised Aureya.

The two young women were handed around for a further few minutes, until a little lull in the crying and embracing caused an awkward silence. Bones and Chekov eyed Spock expectantly, but he was still standing rooted to the spot, mouth open, breathing uneven.

But then Aureya's eyes met his once more, and all thought left his brain, instinct took over. He was beside her in two long strides, his hands on her waste and he lifted her so her face was level with his. Tears were running down her cheeks now, still beautifully flushed, and her lips were trembling. The slightly numb feeling in the back of his throat and the stinging sensation in his eyes told Spock that he, too, was crying. He took a moment just to look at her, her face so near his own, before he pulled her close and allowed his mouth to meet hers. She gave a tiny hick-up of a sob, but her lips opened beneath his, and the taste of her, mingle with the slight saltiness of her tears, wiped everything from his mind but her, her, her.

When his brain deemed it fit to resume operations, he noticed that the room had gone peculiarly quiet; detaching himself from Aureya rather reluctantly, he observed the even spread of smiles and stunned expressions. A soft "Oh" from his father somewhat cleared his mind further, and he set Aureya gently back down on her feet; she seemed a little reluctant to part from him, too.

Captain Iria promptly marched up to McCoy and stretched out her bared arm:

"Here, I've been holding on as long as I can, you gonna stick me, or what?"


There were no comments as they made their way to the small conference room adjoining the bridge. Kirk, Spock and Iria led the way, while the rest of them followed in an odd little huddle. Shrem was holding Gaila's hand on his left and Aureya's on his right, Pavel was practically glued to her other side. McCoy was conversing in low mumbles with Mr Scott, who had voiced some interest in the shape of a rather colourful expletive involving sheep and a simple: "What the...?"

Sarek hung back a little, giving the impression that he had chosen a position from which to survey the situation at his leisure.

When they entered the room, Noyota was waiting for them, having been informed by Kirk earlier. She rushed forward and hugged first Aureya, then Gaila rather fiercely. She made a little choking noise, but for once her eloquence seemed to fail her. Aureya simply smiled and nodded, then kissed the older women gently on the cheek.

"I assume you all had a plan before you started chasing after the Romulans? Well, let's hear it." Apparently Iria was not one to waste time with idle chitchat.

"Forgive me, Captain Iria, but may I inquire as to why you assume that we will share any information pertaining to matters of security with you? As grateful as we are that you saved two Starfleet cadets, there is no proof that your intentions are honourable. Incidentally, the rescue you have undertaken would form the perfect ruse to infiltrate…."

Iria did not let Spock finish.

"Whoa, there, sweetheart. Now, you may be sort of cute to look at, if you're into that kind of thing, but did you have to open your mouth?

Oh, I'm aware that you were grateful,… you weren't exactly subtle about that, but that's not why I'm assuming you'll trust me, I come highly recommended."

There was an audible intake of breath as Iria addressed the giant elephant in the room, and Spock's mouth visibly twitched in response.

Kirk put his hand on Spock's shoulder in order to stop him from mounting a verbal rebuttal, and smiled at Iria benevolently.

"Let's just not assume anything, shall we? Just let me know why you would so generously offer to help us, and what recommendations you were talking about."

Iria merely smiled back and then turned to Gaila and Aureya, wriggling her eyebrows and indicating Kirk with her head.

"Everyone," Gaila began, "may I introduce my adoptive aunt Iria." Then she turned to Aureya and nodded.

"… and my mother." She dutifully finished for her friend.

Noting the shocked expressions around her, Iria gave them a mock curtsy and grinned widely.

"Well, what about those Romulans, then?"

Recovering first, Jim cleared his throat:

"OK, I want it to be perfectly clear that a few people will get a giant grilling when this is over, right now we obviously don't have the time, but … well… holy crap!" Kirk waved his hand around the room indicating his present company, then straightened his uniform's shirt and nodded at Pavel:

"Ensign Chekov, why don't you tell us what we have so far?"

"Certainly, Sirr."

Spock accompanied her to the transporter platform. As the Enterprise was fully staffed, Gaila and Aureya's talents were going to be put to better use on the Tamaring. There was an awkward moment, were neither one of them was entirely sure what to say, until Aureya finally managed a threat:

"If you get yourself killed, I swear on Commander Lennox's grave, I will…" She didn't get to finish, which was just as well, since she had no idea what she was going to say. Spock simply pulled her towards him and kissed her again. When he released her, he merely said:


She grinned like an idiot, then heard his command of "Energise" and found herself in the Tamaring's transporter room a moment later.

"Hmm, judging by the look on your face, that went well." Arn greeted her.

She would only remember the following moments in a blurred mess of emotions. No distinct memory stood out amidst the mix of determined focus and anxiety for her loved ones.

Aureya would be eternally grateful for having spent the entire duration of the fight in the engine room of the Tamaring, doing her bit to hold the outdated mongrel of a ship together and able to keep up with Starfleet's finest. She would be eternally grateful, because it meant she was nowhere near the bridge's observation screen as events unfolded. Had she imagine for one moment that Spock would be mad enough to do what he had done, she would have tried to knock him out cold on that transporter platform. The way things stood, she had her head and hands full with overheating coils and a continuously misbehaving warp core. In hindsight, it was a miracle that the ship hadn't blown up around them. She couldn't deny a certain amount of pride in that, nepotism or not, Iria had left the engine room under Aureya's command. She thought this might have saved her sanity, since, being completely consumed by her duties, meant she did not have to witness Spock's attempt to recreate George Kirk's heroics.

She only learned of what had happened later.

Iria had returned Gaila and Aureya to the Enterprise, now severely impaired and metaphorically limping, and had taken her leave. Her profession making a triumphant visit to Earth an impossibility.

Jim had seemed sheepishly lost for words:

"I could… maybe…"

"Don't be ridiculous, Cutie, … nothing you could do. I'm not looking for a royal pardon or anything. We've all chosen to be what we are, so don't you imply for one second that we'd rather be something else." She had turned to Gaila and Aureya then, one foot already on the transporter platform.

"Now, next time Gaila visits her family on that 'off planet station', you'll come along, little rabbit, won't you?" Her smile had almost been shy, uncertain, as if she were asking too much.

Aureya had merely hugged her fiercely, kissed her on the mouth, the way she had by now come to regard as normal, and had whispered in her mother's ear:

"A herd of Andorian bulls couldn't keep me."

And then Iria had left, leaving a peculiar spot of warmth in Aureya's heart, as if a whole had just healed over and still felt a little out of place, something where there had been nothing before; but not uncomfortable in the slightest.

Between returning a rather bedraggled Enterprise to Earth and the ensuing celebrations once they had done so, none of the crew had so much as a moment to themselves. Once the euphoria of averted destruction had worn off, and the realisation hit, that Starfleet had lost almost an entire fleet of what comprised in large parts of cadets, all the proper grieving procedures had to be observed. Once again, privacy was not an option. Kirk's promotion to Captain, while deserved and welcome, was marred slightly by the knowledge that so many who should have witnessed it, were not there to do so.

In the end, it was not until a full three days after their return, that Aureya found herself outside Spock's quarters. He had been avoiding her, and she had a fairly solid idea as to why. As plans for a new Vulcan home-world were underway and his attention appeared to be focused entirely on his duties, Aureya suspected that the good fortune of T'Pring's survival had taken on greater importance in the face of near extinction. Steeling herself and rehearsing her well-prepared speech on last time in her head, she touched the pad on his door. Like it had been so many times before when anticipating his presence, her hand was shaking.

His "Enter" was crisp and commanding, the way it usually was, and as the door slid open, she saw him bent over papers at the small desk in his living room. When he looked up to face her, an odd expression flitted across his features, he appeared uncertain for a moment, some odd inner struggle taking place until he finally said:

"Aureya, please come in. May I offer you some tea?"

She realised he had been battling with how to address her, and while he had settled on her first name, his tone was clipped, official.

She merely stared at him for a minute, until the sound of the door sliding shut behind her shook her from her stupor. She balled her hands at her sides and took a deep breath; one final 'you can do this' flitted through her mind before she willed her voice to be strong and clear:

"No, thank you, Spock. I've come to make a certain proposition, would you be kind enough to let me speak without interruption?"

He looked momentarily puzzled, then nodded an uncertain agreement.

"I am well aware of the fact that you are bonded to T'Pring and are, considering the circumstances, going to be married very soon."

Spock opened his mouth to speak, but she shushed him, glaring slightly and whispered: "Please, you promised… and I won't be able to say this unless you let me finish."

He attempted to speak again, but she simply ignored him this time and continued:

"I fully understand that your public show of affection towards me was entirely due to the situation we found ourselves in. It felt as if my heart had been ripped out of my chest when I thought that you were dead and…" She had to pause here, tears threatening to get the better of her.

"I understand how important social conventions and family honour are to you, and I would never ask that you abandon either for me, but I will not accept being without you, not after I thought I'd lost you. So, if you would consent to it, I would ask that you consider me as a mistress. I will not make demands on you in any…"

Aureya was forced to stop as Spock stood from his position at the desk, pushing the chair back noisily and glaring at her as if she had insulted him.

Panicking, she attempted to explain:

"I don't mean to compromise your moral integrity, I just mean to make the best out of… I… I will not accept a no for an answer, I am willing to do whatever it takes to preserve whatever outward façade you need to present, but I will not be without you." Her voice had progressively gained strength during her speech, making her final sentence forceful enough to cause Spock to blink, but her eyes appeared unwilling to play along and betrayed her as a few tears escaped their confines.

"What leads you to believe that I would accept such a preposterous offer?" He was still behind his desk, both hands flat on the work-surface, his body leaning forward. There was a low and barely controlled quality to his voice, as if he were struggling to make his vocal cords obey.

"What would possess you to assume that I would allow you to put yourself in such a position?" He was angry now. Aureya recognised the signs in the downward quirk of his lips and the slant of his eyebrows, but she refused to cave in.

"You've been avoiding me… again. And I know that it's foolish, but I thought that after what happened you would be willing to reconsider…" She shook her head, looking at the floor, then raised her eyes to his again.

"Tell me you don't love me. Tell me you don't want to be with me and I'll go. But don't you dare start with all that honour bullshit and talk of what you will and will not allow me to do for my own sake. My morals are mine to do with as I please, and in case you hadn't noticed, I'm part Orion, we don't hang our self-worth on trivial things like that." Her hands were on her hips now, her head tilted slightly to the side, her chin up. Indignation was a glorious thing.


He could barely keep his arms from trembling, but he did not dare remove his hands from his desk, they were keeping him in place, preventing him from abandoning all semblance of civility and throwing himself right at her. He could feel his fingers curling, his nails biting into the wood in his sheer desperation.

She was taking a step towards him, and fighting every lower urge in his body, he attempted to stop her:

"You are misunderstanding my reasons for avoiding you." He barely recognised his voice, it was trembling with strain now, lower than he had ever heard it, as if it were trying to betray his need.

"I am immeasurably grateful for T'Pring's survival, she is a credit to our race, and will in due course enrich the Vulcan gene-pool with her and Stonn's children."

This caused Aureya to halt her approach, her eyes went wide and she looked too stunned to speak; Spock decided a prolonged conversation would benefit him greatly, as it enabled him to divert his attention from other things, such as the way a stray curl had escaped her braided hair and was brushing the side of her neck. He swallowed briefly, closed his eyes and then continued.

"T'Pring informed me of her attachment on my last visit to Vulcan. You remember her requesting a private conversation with me, I presume? She took my rather obvious affection for you as an opportunity to request that we mutually release each other from our bond. It is not a common practice and socially frowned upon, but we both considered the consequences acceptable."

Still looking confused, Aureya absentmindedly bit her bottom lip while shaking her head slightly. Spock groaned inwardly, attempting, and failing miserably, to tear his gaze away from her mouth.

"But… why have you been avoiding me?" She now looked distinctly hurt. Clearly what should have been welcome news, was now perceived as an immense personal slight. To his trepidation, she proceeded to move towards him again, the pain in her eyes and the confusion in her face causing him ho dig his nails deeper into his desk, forcing himself to keep from reaching out for her.

Directing his gaze downward, away from her, he managed the most basic of explanations:

"I am currently not experiencing pon farr, however, all Vulcan mating can be violent and aggressive, it is a socially disruptive force, which is precisely why it has been limited to those instances where non-compliance is not an option, where it becomes biologically necessary." His breathing had become erratic, his voice even lower and breathy. He could smell her now, all her maddening sweetness mixed with that slightly woody, earthy scent that was all her own.

And then she was beside him; her face now calm, composed; and ever so slowly she reached out for his left hand and gently eased it off the surface of his desk. The feel of her skin against his, of her fingers brushing over his own, that look in her eyes that spoke of nothing but kind thoughts, almost made him snap. Almost, but not quite yet, he managed to control himself until she lifted his hand to her mouth and gently kissed one fingertip after the other.

His right arm, still partially supporting him on the desk, began to shake violently and he had to push himself off, had to face her more fully now. Her eyes were closed and she held his index finger between her lips, then tentatively, she touched the tip of her tongue to it. He groaned, his eyes tolled back, and his eyelids fluttered shut as he slumped forward towards her. Almost blindly, his arms wrapped around her, removing his finger from her mouth, one hand at the nape of her neck, the other one on her hip. He pulled her into his body with all the possessive fervour he felt, but tortured himself by not allowing his lips to meet hers. Instead he kissed her temple, then moved slightly upwards to bury his face in her hair and inhale that scent, all the while holding her painfully close. Her breath was coming in little gasps now, her hands were on his back and she was on the tips of her toes, trying to reach his mouth, which was still far out of her reach.

"Please, Spock." She whispered, her lips brushing his throat as she spoke, and making him shiver "You won't hurt me."

His last fragment of control forced him to push her away, holding her at arm's length, his entire body now shaking with want.

"Physical strength in my species is considerably greater than…" he began, small gasps escaping between words. Aureya simply stroked his shoulder blades, she was now back on her feet, no longer balancing precariously on her toes, so that when she spoke, it was into his chest, this time:

"I broke my arm once, the only bone I've ever broken in my life." She paused to place a small kiss on the dark fabric of his uniform. Spock felt the warmth of her breath trough the material and could not focus sufficiently to wonder at the odd turn the conversation had taken.

"I fell out of a tree in our back garden. It was an oak, more than 300 years old,… or so my father claims. I'd made it all the way to the top before I fell." She kissed his chest again, then inhaled deeply.

Spock's right hand was now stroking her hair, she was leaning into his touch and making a contented little sound, almost a mixture between a sigh and a purr.

"I do not quite comprehend your meaning." He told her, his eyes closed, his focus now completely on her hair. As she spoke again, she reached up and unbraided it slowly, allowing him to loosen her curls with his fingers. He groaned slightly at the feel of the silky strands slipping through his fingers.

"Orion men are about twice the size of the females, they are also considerably stronger, as a result…"

He silenced her with the most tentative of kisses, brushing his lips over hers for merely a moment, not trusting himself to release her again, should he linger a second too long.

"I have no desire to test the limits of your physical endurance."

He looked a little taken aback at the grin his comment brought forth on her mouth.

"You don't?" She smiled brightly at him, and this time seemed to be no longer willing to wait for his compliance, as once again she stood on tip-toes, reached up for his face and pulled it down towards hers. As gently as she had touched him before, as much as she had handles him like a frightened animal, the kiss she now placed on his lips was almost violent. There was one final moment of hesitation on his part, and then her tongue brushed over the tip of his own, and he let go.

He had never kissed her like this before, without restraint, without some part of his mind telling him that he was not allowed, not supposed, not intended, to do this. He permitted himself to fully taste her, to suck her lower lip into his mouth, to bite her, to lick the side of her neck, to kiss that spot just behind her ear that made her press herself that much closer to him.

And he permitted himself to think of what was below those lips, below that neck. Her hands had made their way beneath the top part of his uniform, one was stroking his lower back, the other one was on his belly, making its way towards his chest. They were uncertain, shy in some way. He took a small step back to look at her. Her face was flushed and her lips slightly swollen and parted, her hair, now loose, was already dishevelled from his attentions, but there was no doubt in her face, no fear. And suddenly he knew with indubitable certainty that he would indeed never hurt her. As much as he wanted her, craved her physically, his emotional attachment, his need to protect her, formed one homogenous whole that would not be divided into its components.


He looked at her with the most peculiar expression in his eyes. Had her cheeks not already been burning, indicating that they would be pink over her usual pale green, she would have blushed at the intensity of his gaze. She did not know what to expect next, what to do next. She knew he had only marginally more experience then her, and from what she had gathered, most of it had been collected in a state of mental imbalance, but she wanted to please him, wanted to do the right thing. A small frown stole onto her face before she could stop it. At the worried quirk of his eyebrow she was quick to assure him:

"I'm not sure what to…"

To her surprise, he smiled at her, that tiny, beautiful lift of both corners of his mouth, and bent down to place a butterfly kiss on her forehead. He reached out for her hand, closing his eyes briefly as she wound her fingers through his, and pulled her away from the desk, past the small kitchen and into a room she had not seen before, his bedroom. He pulled her towards him almost leisurely, kissing her gently, at first. She felt almost like an over-eager puppy as she met every brush of his tongue with her own, struggling to keep from whimpering for more, but after a few torturing moments, he deepened the kiss again, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth and pressing his entire body against hers. His hands, which usually touched her hair or waist, made their way to the hem of her uniform shirt, pushed beneath, and after he had pulled away slightly and giving her a questioning look to which she had responded with a small smile, pulled it over her head. She had no time to feel self-conscious, as he removed his own uniform shirt and pulled her close again, making her entire body shiver at the feel of his bare skin touching hers. His breath caused her skin to form goose bumps as it ghosted over her neck, small kisses and bites making her quiver as he reached her shoulder and pushed aside the strap of her bra. She closed her eyes when he began to kiss the top of her breast, then reached for her other shoulder to slide down the second strap and push the entire garment down to her waist.

"Fascinating." He whispered a mere centimetre from her nipple, the disturbed air and the vibrations of his voice making it tighten and causing her to moan. "I would never have imagined them to be pink, I must confess I was surprised that day outside the mess hall. They have occupied more of my thoughts since then than I would have been willing to admit." She knew he was toying with her, prolonging the moment, but she could not help the small desperate whimper, followed by a rather pathetic little "please", that made their way out of her mouth.

As his lips closed around her nipple and she curled forward, he caught her, and lifted her, never taking his mouth from her breast. He laid her gently on his bed, all immaculate white sheets and crisp corners, and stroked both hands over her sides while biting down gently on her nipple. She gasped slightly, curling towards him again, as he tried to push her down once more, she refused, wriggling downward and kissing the top of his chest tentatively. He was supporting himself on his arms, poised over her, and watched in fascination as she made her way towards his own nipple, when she placed her lips over it and licked the tiny bud, he grunted audibly and let his head drop forward. He pulled her back up rather forcefully and kissed her possessively, his hands finding the clasps on her uniform trousers, opening them and divesting her of the item in surprisingly little time. He struggled with her boots for a moment, the buckles being on opposite sides for male and female versions, but finally succeeded without having to abandon her mouth once. She took off her own socks with her feet, then managed to focus her attention on his trousers. About a minute later all that remained between them were two items of standard issue Starfleet underwear.

His kisses had turned rough by then, his hands were no longer asking permission before they touched possessively. Aureya had abandoned all self-control and was moaning at every brush of his tongue, every grasp of his fingers. Spock buried his face in her neck as he reached for her panties, sliding his hands down the side of her hips, into the cotton material and downwards, she pulled up her legs to help him with the final part, and pulled both legs out of them. He gently brushed his hands over her belly, inching closer to the dark brown curls now exposed, on every repetition. His face still in her neck, he was breathing heavily and when his fingers found the damp little bundle of nerves between her legs, they both moaned.

Things turned frantic after that. Aureya fisted her hand in Spock's hair and pulled him towards her into another kiss, desperate this time; her other hand was trying to divest him of his underwear, but she was too distracted by what his hand was doing to fully focus. He ended up having to do it himself, rushing in his need to get closer to her. He had now abandoned all gentleness, his fingers bruising her tights as he opened her legs wide. Aureya whimpered with the mixture of pleasure and pain, and when he finally pushed inside of her, she dug her fingers into his back and bit his shoulder, hard, the pain eclipsed by the sensation of finally being this close to him.

He whispered a garbled "Forgive me" into her hair, but she simply held him closer, wrapping her legs around him and attempted to push him deeper, and muttered "no, no… nothing to forgive" and after kissing him again, frantically and with everything she had within her, she added: "Thank you."

It didn't last very long, both of them were entirely too consumed with the sensation of the other to care much for anything beyond the feel of each other's skin, for the movement of their bodies against each other, the taste of the other's mouth, the sound of the other's moans. He came inside her with a strangle cry, pulling her towards him with, once again, bruising force. She sobbed quietly, overwhelmed by it all, and curled into his body as he held her and stroked her back.

"Did I injure you?" His voice was a little uneven still, his breathing audible.

"Not in a bad way." Her response was muffled as she pressed her face further into his chest.

They did not speak after that, simply held each other, their skin damp with sweat, their mouths bruised from the fervour of their kisses. Aureya drifted off to sleep with the odd sensation of feeling complete and utter contentment.