Just a few paragraphs that seemed to write themselves in the midst of insomnia. If you like, please let me know…I'll keep writing when I can't sleep. If not, well, I just won't post

Much thanks to Atana71 and her superb betaing (is that a word? No? Well, it should be), she really brought a lot to this little fic! Her time and effort are, as always, greatly appreciated. You rock!

My first fic written in the present tense (with a flashback in italics) and wholly from Spock's POV


du bolau-veh: I need you

t'nash veh: you are mine

Ha, Spokh, i!: Yes, Spock, now

k'hat'n'dlawa: half of my heart and soul

Taluhk nash-veh k'dular: I cherish thee

Ek'wak: Forever

He watches her as she sleeps. Her eyes flutter as she reaches for him and once her unconsciousness feels his warmth she settles and moves in closer. His arms pull her in tightand he lays his chin upon the top of her head, breathing in deeply of her scent. It is a mixture of regulation soap, her own inexplicable smell and him. His sweat, his sa-nei. Their fluids combined. And he finds he must tap down the desire that rises.

Guilt also rises, as it does most days. But not the guilt of losing his mother, not the guilt of surviving even as most of his father's species has perished. No, it is guilt that he has found solace in this woman. That for the minutes…the hours that he is with her, engulfed in her warmth, sheltered by her soul, he finds the will to live, to go on. He allows a spark of hope that he has a future…a future with her. She has allowed him to move forward.

It has been only a matter of weeks since he lost his mother and his planet. Only a matter of weeks since he lost the command of the Enterprise. And now she hobbles back to Earth on impulse power, much as his soul hobbles through each day. Such a short time, these few weeks, but it seems like a lifetime. And he's spent every night of them in her arms. She feeds katra, she strengthens it. His Nyota.

The first night she merely held him, rocked him, gave him the succor he so needed. Her tone, melodic and soft, comforting, soothing…loving. And the next day, after an eighteen hour shift, she returned to him. Going to him, taking him into her arms, pulling him into the shower, running her hands over his body attempting to ease the tension there. He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes before pulling her back into this arms. Saying not a word, he lifted her, winding her legs around his waist. Looking deeply into her eyes, he bent his head and kissed her. She relaxed in his arms and kissed him back, opening her mouth, her body, her soul; she let him in.

And he let her in. He allowed her to feel his anguish, his pain. He allowed her to feel his love. For his mother, his father, his people. And for her. They were new, their relationship just beginning, but he had loved her. Had loved her almost from the start.

He loves her. This is the only certainly in his world.

Since then, she returns to him every night. She holds him close, she takes him into her heat, into her heart, into her soul. Even though his body temperature is greater than hers, he feels a deep seated cold that only she can eradicate. And she does, every night.

He watches her sleep until he cannot fight his need. He nuzzles her neck, his tongue slipping out to taste her. He pulls away and begins to make his way down her body. She moans and arches up, into him. Not quite awake, she responds. He feels her heartbeat quicken.

"Spock." Her voice is thick with sleep and desire. "Yes…du bolau-veh…"

Her body shudders as he intensifies his ministrations. Hands, fingers, mouth, tongue. She bucks against him and he is flooded with her essence. He can taste himself mingled with her. It deepens his need. Flipping her onto her stomach, he spreads her legs and enters her moist center before pulling her up, flush against his chest.

"Du bolau-veh, Nyota…t'nash veh…" His voice is deep, almost harsh.

She lays her head back against his shoulder and demands. "Ha, Spokh, i!"

He raises his hand and fixes his fingers on her face, she mirrors him. The white heat spreads between and they implode together. As they ride the crest of their passion, he bends his head and bites down on her neck. She gasps, her walls grip him even tighter, almost to the point of pain, but not. He shoots his seed deep within her for a second time and falls on her.

Each time they copulate…each time they make love, he revises, it is stronger than the last. He is entrenched and he feels that she is, as well.

In the beginning, when they were still fresh in their pain, they rarely spoke after sex. But now…now they speak in the hushed tones of lovers. And they almost always converse in Vulcan. He needs the connection to his other side. The side not of his mother.

They speak of their day. Of the Vulcan refugees. Of the lost cadets. Of Gaila. Of Sarek….finally, of Amanda. He holds her as she releases her pain in tears. She holds him as he shudders through his.

When they are near Earth, when over a month passes, she broaches the subject of their future with fear. He quirks his head to one side before pulling her into his arms. He sends her his intentions, his love, his resolve.

"You are k'hat'n'dlawa." He feels her smile into his chest. "Nyota, Taluhk nash-veh k'dular. Ek'wak."

"Yes, Spock, forever." She agrees.