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Admiration, Intoxication and Congratulation

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The first time Spock found himself in bed with Uhura it was pure happenstance. Unplanned and thoroughly unexpected. He hadn't set out to sleep with her; it hadn't even crossed his mind to kiss her. He wasn't even looking for her that night at the bar—at least that's what he told himself.

But when Spock indulged his human heart, he couldn't deny that some part of his mind began actively seeking her out from the moment they first met that night in the communications center.

Spock saw her as he walked into the lab, mildly surprised that another cadet was still on campus, working, over the break. But it wasn't until she muttered something in Romulan, and then again in a minor dialect, that he paid her any attention. She was not pronouncing the phrase properly, her intonation was wrong: the inflect she was placing on the truncated syllables was closer to Standard Romulan than what the specific dialect required.

"Your tonal usage is incorrect. If you are looking to differentiate the dialectal words from Standard Romulan, you must accentuate the rising pitch."

He had not turned around from his own consul when he proffered his advice, but, after 73 seconds of silence and no reply, he did. Spock found the girl staring at him, intently, with a mixture of irritation and surprise. Her mouth was parted but she didn't say anything. Even raising an eyebrow elicited no response. Spock was about to inquire about her lack of socially-obligated gratitude, when she turned back around to her station, shaking her head.

"If you weren't Vulcan, I would wonder if that was an insult or a pick-up line."

"But I am Vulcan, so this is not an issue?" Spock, confused and staring, stood up and walked over to the consul next to the intriguing girl.

"No, it's not," she said, looking up and smiling. As she shook her head, she pushed out the chair next to her with her foot before turning back to the screen. "Thank you. Now help me figure this out."

Her name was Uhura, and she was a first-year cadet, concentrating in zenolinguistics. She was already fluent in Standard Romulan, as well as 36% of the rest of Starfleet's recognized languages and dialects. And she was going to be in Comparative Evolutionary Linguistics with him come January. She had talked her way into it. In Andorian. Commander Thanos had admitted her based on shock alone, and as the class aide, Spock would apparently be seeing her quite a bit more over the next six months.

To say they became friends would an overstatement. They had no standing plans to meet, but for the two weeks of winter break while Starfleet campus was all but abandoned, the both spent every night working in the linguistics lab. Spock had no alternative purpose for working there each evening other than the convenient location of the lab to his dorm and the software it had which he needed to run his programming simulations. He was unsure of her motives.

After their initial conversation, they were usually silent, and Spock, for the most part, ignored her. Silently, they conducted their own research, studied their own materials, until she made a mistake in her quietly murmured translations. Without fail, and without turning around, Spock would amend her pronunciation. She would repeat his corrections in a whisper that would have been below human hearing given the distance between them. But he heard it. He always heard it, and he felt something akin to a satisfaction tug at the corner of his mouth when he considered that she very likely knew that.

Spock noted that they became comfortable with one another in the linguistics lab. Predictable patterns of behavior emerged between the two of them that he came to expect, but Uhura always did something that violated anticipated parameters of their interactions.

Every so often she would move from her self-assigned seat after an average of 2.4 hours of silence, and walk across the room to his consul. She would lean back against the comm panel next to him, focused on whatever translation was on the PADD she held in front of her. Spock would look at her then, watch as she tapped the stylus against her lips before she sighed, defeatedly, and handed him the PADD. It was un-Vulcan to smirk, but on those occasions, when she would collapse into the chair next to him, he understood the human urge.

When the semester began again, Uhura appeared to ignore him in the classroom, contrary to Spock's anticipations. It was as if they had never met. Or at least, he reasoned, that would be what most observers would have assumed. He would stand in the back of classroom, apart from all of the students, silently observing. But every so often he could hear her muttering under her breath in Romulan about how veruul obvious Commander Thantos' point should be to anyone who had enough brains to be in the class, right? She always ended her near-noiseless criticisms in a question, and Spock concluded, with an above .73 probability, she was talking to him, in addition to herself.

By the third week of classes, Spock found her on his sign-up list for office hours. He knew full well she had no reason to be there academically, but, for once, he did not attempt to parse out an explanation for the new change the pattern. He was gradually coming to the conclusion that Cadet Uhura's actions were not predictable given his limited data concerning her. When she entered his office with a stack of PADDs, he reasoned she merely wanted additional assistance with her translations. Until she pulled out containers of unrecognizable food substances.

"A working lunch," she said as she handed him a fork. A fact, not an inquiry or request. She never requested anything from him.

"I need some help distinguishing nuances between High Vulcan and the Romulan dialects. From what I understand, the cadences are quite similar, and only the grammatical—"

Spock took the carton but couldn't help raise an eyebrow as he opened it. He assumed it was food, but it was like nothing he had seen since he arrived on Earth. He had a momentary concern that the lumpy mound of green starch was not edible, before such a notion was logically dismissed. While inconsistent, Uhura had yet to exhibit intentions to cause him harm.

"It's irio," she said, chuckling. Spock looked up at her, eyebrow staying where it was. "You spoon the roasted vegetables over it like this."

To his, now rather lessened, surprise, she demonstrated how to mold the starch and ladle the stew on top while continuing her translating concerns. Uhura seemed to comprehend that he could process both her linguistic dilemma and proper irio protocol at the same time.

Having mastered the basics of eating, Spock lowered his eyebrow and tentatively took a bite after answering her first question.

"Like it?"

"My liking of the dish is unquantifiable. However, I believe, this is, what one would consider a palatable food."

"I'm glad you find it satisfactory," she said, smiling, before shaking her head and looking back to the PADDs scattered across his desk.

For nearly five months, Spock and Uhura followed a predictable schedule of a working lunch every Monday and Wednesday. They always met in his office, but the working part of their lunch hour was sometimes forgotten in lieu of park bench picnics on sunny days and ventures to the cafeteria when Uhura didn't bring food with her. Spock could not quite understand why or how, but the conversation on such days inevitably left the realm of academia and linguistics for topics of ambitions and childhood.

In an attempt to equalize their friendship, Spock brought plomeek soup to his office the last Wednesday of the semester, only to find a message on his panel that she would be unavailable to able attend office hours. An anomaly in the usual pattern. He looked at the lunch and contemplated it momentarily before pushing it aside. They were comfortable with one another, but, rationally, not friends. He was about to graduate and she was simply a 4th class cadet, it would be illogical to consider he was more than a mentor to her. Spock felt dissatisfaction pull the corner of his mouth downward nonetheless.

 

Three days later, Starfleet Academy's commencement ceremony was held, and Spock graduated—with honors, naturally—as a full lieutenant. His now-commissioned Ensign colleagues all waved and smiled at him in the joyful haze of graduation. Professors and senior officers were delighted to hear he planned to stay on at the Academy for the immediate future and continue working on the Kobayashi Maru simulation he created for his dissertation. Even his mother had come to wish him well and congratulations. She embraced him and told him to go have fun with his friends for the night, before returning to the consulate where his father had been engrossed in meetings.

The celebratory spirit seemed to grasp everyone in the immediate vicinity as someone shouted about a party at Anchor-Faced. In an hour once they all got out of their dress uniforms. Everyone laughed and then cheered after Spock nodded in response to two of his old classmates' insistence that he attend. It was his mother's wish after all, but Spock couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the cadet that stood smiling behind the two Ensigns who had ensured his participation.

 

Anchor-Faced, Spock concluded, was far too small to accommodate what he estimated to be half of Starfleet Academy. Commanders and cadets alike had crammed themselves into every inch of the bar and with the loud music and louder conversations, Spock questioned how any of the humans there heard anything clearly.

He passed by a group of ex-cadets who jovially, and over-enthusiastically, commended him on his arrival and shoved a glass at him. Something orange-colored with a layer of red at the bottom that he did not bother to try. He nodded in thanks and moved on, hoping that perhaps to see a group of his colleagues from the programming department. His intentions were interrupted, however, by the girl who never did what he expected.

"Lieutenant Spock," she said in a playful, coy tone. He'd heard it before, he knew she wasn't patronizing him, bug teasing him. Not that he quite understood the human concept of teasing without malice.

"Cadet Uhura."

"Oh, don't 'cadet' me! You know I was just picking fun," she smiled and laughed, more openly than he'd ever seen her do. "I heard your planning on counting your work at the Academy. I'm pleased."

Spock cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yes! I'm pleased! I'd be disappointed if I didn't have a reason to practice my coding skills on the replicator each week."

Then he cocked his head still unclear of her rationale and she laughed to cover up her blush.

"What can I say, you inspired me. I never cared much for computer systems or programming until you and I… What're you drinking there?"

Spock didn't have a chance to extrapolate on her unfinished sentence before she ripped the drink out of his hand and promptly gulped it entirely down. Once again Uhura did something he couldn't have predicted.

"Klabnian fire tea? What wimp gave you that? You should drink—" She put the empty glass on a nearby table before pulling a glass off a passing tray and putting it in his hand, "—this."

He looked at the glass for a moment, and then back to her. Uhura had an eyebrow raised, and Spock raised one in return before he took a sip of the dark liquid.

She giggled.

Spock tried to recall if he'd ever heard her do that before, but the beverage was having a dampening effect on his cognition skills. The drink was sweet, vaguely familiar, and out of pure scientific investigation he took another sip, and another, in an attempt to identify it. Uhura watched him with his eyebrows furrowed as he nearly finished the entire drink in one swig, before she leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

"Good, now you're as drunk as I am. Come with me."

She grabbed his arm and pulled him along with her. Spock found his reflexes were slower, his movement less coordinated. She pulled him closer to her and began moving against him. His brain couldn't find the words to stop her. He realized they were in the middle of the dance floor, and she was grinding against him as she moved them through the crowd. He kept trying to process the situation he was in, but his thoughts were dulled but his senses were heightened, it was almost as if…

"You gave me chocolate," he grumbled in her ear. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back against him.

"You were supposed to have fun. With your friends."

She continued to move against him as he held onto her, distracting him from his thoughts. He felt his cock twitch in response to the friction. His attempts to conclude how she knew what his mother said were forgotten momentarily by the blood leaving his brain, until his mind got back on track. He could eliminate being overheard, he and his mother were rather secluded when they spoke. Uhura had been among the crowd however, and if she saw him…

"You can read lips."

"Shouldn't any good xenolinguist be able to?"

Uhura pulled out of his grasp and held on to his hand as she lead them outside. She nearly tripped out on the sidewalk, but Spock managed to move fast enough to catch her.

"You're intoxicated."

"So are you," she muttered. "But I'm far from wasted. Still in control of my mental faculties. What about you, Spock?"

Spock felt a chill go down his spine and rest in his groin as she said his name against his ear. He was not entirely sure what came over him, and if someone were to ask he'd never admit that he lost control, but between the chocolate in his system and the way Uhura was suddenly licking the shell of his ear, he couldn't stop himself from groaning and grabbing her by the arms.

"Your room, which hall?" she breathed into his ear.

"C-Cochrane." Spock couldn't believed that his voice hitched.

"Closer than mine. Take me."

They walked quickly across the street back onto campus, straight-backed and tight-lipped. When they reached the dormitory lobby, Spock felt himself smirking as Uhura tried to stifle her laughs. Once in the lift to his room, she started chuckling openly before grabbing the back of his head and pulling his lips down to hers.

Whatever he had been expecting, feeling her tongue on his lips was not even on Spock's list of probabilities. Spock was shocked by her actions, but the act was pleasurable. Intrigued, he allowed his mouth to be coaxed open and moved in tandem with hers. A rumble of need fluttered in his heart, but even Vulcan resolve was not enough to tuck the feeling away with the chocolate pumping in his bloodstream and Uhura's mouth against his. She bit his bottom lip and pulled his face even closer while guiding his hand back to her waist. He tried to catalogue each movement she made, each response he received, but he got so lost in the sensation of her tongue brushing against his that he wasn't even aware the lift had stopped on his floor.

Uhura broke away from him first, but it was Spock who pulled her down the hall to his room, fleetingly indulging the emotional surge he could only conclude was a result of the loss of contact between them. His door open at his handprint, and before it was even closed he had her pressed up against the wall inside.

"Do that again," he ordered.

She smiled and ran her hands through his hair, her thumbs just brushing the tips of his ear.

"Yes, sir."

The pressure of her lips on his again did not quell the desire, it only made it grow. An unanticipated response, but he hardly gave the contradiction any thought. All pretense of scientific pursuit was tossed aside. His body want more and he gave in his humanity. He put his hand back on her hip and the other slid up her back and drawing her up against his chest. His tight hold on her elicited a sigh that Spock could only classify as satisfied.

Her lips left his mouth and traveled back to his ear. More aggressive this time, she bit down and pulled the lobe between her teeth. Spock let an uncharacteristic growl escape his throat and he clamped down on the nearest flesh, her neck. Uhura moaned and clenched his uniform in her fists. Emboldened by the new response, he continued to gnaw at her neck until he nipped at the tendon behind her ear. She gasped and pushed his head further against her neck. He understood her meaning and bit down on the spot harder, caressing the flesh with his tongue.

"Yes, oh god, yes," she breathed and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He leaned her back against the wall. She pushed his hands up her thighs, underneath her skirt, before she started clawing at his chest. He felt the zipper of his uniform come undone and her hands against his naked sternum. He hissed as she dragged her nails down his rib cage and she gasped as he bunched her skirt up even further around her waist and grabbed her bare hips. Uhura pushed the jacket off his shoulders and put her hands on either side of his face.

"Bedroom," she whispered before crashing her mouth back against his.

Spock held her against him as he walked them into his sleeping quarters, not breaking the kiss. When she moved to stand on her own, he set her down and started to unzip her skirt. She batted his hands away and shoved him hard enough that in his chocolate-induced haze he fell backwards onto the bed. He heard her mutter about too many clothes, and he watched as she kicked off her boots, yanked down her skirt and panties, and ripped her jacket off. Spock had barely had time to admire her nearly-naked form before she stepped forward and straddled him on the bed.

He pulled her down close to him, snaking a hand to the back of her neck and dragging her lips to his in an attempt to once again satisfy the desire that engulfed him. Uhura started to grind on top of him and he increasingly found the movement insatiable. The blood that had started rushing to his groin on the dance floor started flowing faster.

At her insistence, he ran his hands all over her body, over the white lace that covered her bust. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra. His hands were on her breasts the moment they were revealed, squeezing and kneading. Her head fell back as she groaned, and he started nibbling at her collarbone. He felt an often-suppressed sense of pride at his ability to elicit such sounds from her. Spock gathered her back to him and kissed her soundly, repeatedly, until her heard her mew in his mouth.

Her hands fell to his waist, to the zipper of his pants, and he bit her lip when she pulled him free of his trousers. Uhura moved away from lips, hovered over his body, and looked him in the eyes as began sliding her hand up and down his shaft. He tried to maintain some semblance of control, but as she lowered herself onto his cock he grasped the bedsheets behind him so tightly he was sure they ripped.

"Fuck, yes," she moaned as she sank onto his lap.

She started riding him and Spock was at a loss for rational thought or logical behavior. Given the situation and the unbridled pleasure he was experiencing, he didn't do anything for fear of hurting her. He simply watched as Uhura raised herself to the tip of his cock before slamming herself all the way down. When she tangled her arms around him, he felt her breasts pressed against his chest and her ragged breathing in his ear. As she started kissing him even more hungrily than before and kept her rhythm, he closed his eyes, stopped thinking and gave into the sensation. He felt her hands on his chest, pushing him to lie down on the bed.

"Here," she said, breathlessly, and pulled his hands back to her waist.

Spock gripped her hips hard. He started thrusting his pelvis upwards to meet her as he drew her down, more forcefully, much faster than she had be doing on her own. She started devouring his neck, running her fingers through his hair, over his ears. Clutching to his chest, Uhura started to groan unintelligibly.

"Yes, there, god don't stop," she murmured against his ear. "Fuck, me. Oh, yes… Spock!"

His name came out as a strangled cry. He felt her spasm around his cock and she screamed in ecstasy against his neck. Without waiting for her to recover, he kept pushing her hips forward and back over his cock faster than he had before, increasing the friction and the pleasure. He felt her squeeze his shoulders, dig her nails into his chest. Her walls kept clenching around his cock as he pounded into her, and he started to tremble.

He pulled her even closer against him and ravaged her mouth, holding her tighter than he had before. His hips dove deeper into her until he felt a swell of emotion run through him that he couldn't, didn't bother to suppress. As he dug his fingers further into Uhura's flesh, Spock came with a loud growl. And inexplicably, he felt like the universe had stopped.

Slowly, he assumed, as he had no way of gauging time in his present condition, his senses returned to him. Spock felt his brain cells reactivate and his joints unlock. He noticed Uhura's breathing even out, his own pulse regulating. He let his hands fall back down to her hips as she gingerly pushed herself to sit upright on top of him. She smiled cheekily, before mercilessly slamming her hips back down on his still-hard cock. Spock groaned and dug his nails into her ass to still her. His eyes closed again, his brows furrowed in what he speculated appeared to be pain, but was most sincerely, definitely not. Uhura smiled even wider and leant forward to whisper in his ear.

"Congratulations on your commission, Lieutenant."