New Vulcan, 2261

The rounded toes of Nyota's flat red shoes paused at the threshold of the glass-enclosed commercial promenade in the center of New Vulcan's capital city.

Courage! Why so serious?

It was a risk, but Starfleet life was a crazy quilt of much greater risks, some calculated, many not. This one wouldn't cost her life, maybe just a little pride if it got a bad reception. She drew in a deep breath in the thin atmosphere similar to that of the destroyed planet of Vulcan and stepped forward. She had only a few hours to complete her task in secret; Spock and Sarek would be curious where she had gone, and Spock might go into protective mode, puzzled by her decision to leave the Ambassadorial mansion unescorted.

Nyota searched an interactive kiosk at the entrance of the promenade. She scrolled through a list of shop owners until the word she sought appeared in Vulcan script: Lapan-zupsu - Donstelralth . A few Vulcans stared as she walked to the storefront, her back straight, and her face as calm and expressionless as that of any proper Vulcan woman in a public place. Even if Nyota hadn't been able to decipher the Vulcan script, she would have found other signs to lead her to the carpenter's shop: a combination of the scents of cut wood and the sounds of sawing and hammering. Again she found herself pausing at an entrance. Would her request be considered at all?

Vulcan had its own rebels, freethinkers, and outsiders. She herself seemed to be perceived as all three from the moment that she stepped off the transport pad and onto New Vulcan soil. The frugal Uhuras always researched their purchases before parting ways with their money. This place seemed more likely to welcome outsiders than others. Blue money, black money, white money, green money; it all spends the same, she'd once overheard an Andorian merchant say. She would take the chance. Nyota put on her bravest face and stepped through the door.

...

Chapter Two - Crave: Warmth

Spock loved to cuddle as much as Nyota did. Their relationship had sparked into life quietly, become heated, then overtaken much of their common sense and caution in a joyful blaze before it changed again, becoming a persistent source of warmth that made life easier. As a child, Nyota had read about fires in underground mines that burned for decades, fueled by gases or coal. Their thoughts and feelings for each other seemed to burn just as persistently behind a surface of discretion and formal public behavior.

Something in Nyota's soul had burned steadily for Spock from the moment she'd first seen him walk to the podium in an underheated Starfleet Academy lecture hall. He had looked up from the padd with his lecture notes. For the space of a breath he seemed to look at her as though they were alone in the large room. Nyota was unable to look away, thrilled, frightened, and curious. Spock had suddenly looked away and begun his lecture, but she knew that he would matter to her.

More than a year later, Spock admitted that he knew at that same moment that Nyota would matter to him.

...

Four Months Earlier - Aboard the Enterprise, 2261

During his weekly call to Spock, Sarek had declined Nyota's invitation to spend a few days of the winter season with her and Spock at the Uhura family compound. Usually, Nyota greeted Sarek at the beginning of the call, then left the two men alone to talk privately. This time, both Nyota and Spock sat before the screen so that Nyota could speak to Sarek at length. Spock had decided to maintain a small apartment near Starfleet Academy, where the couple occasionally spent a 24-hour or other short term leave period. Nyota decorated it with a few textiles and favorite objects from home, but something about it remained slightly impersonal. Spock and Uhura planned to spend a few days consulting on research projects at the Academy before travelling to the Uhura compound for the winter holidays.

Nyota tried not to babble, but Sarek seemed expressionless as she tried to convince him to visit. The Uhura family would be happy to meet the Ambassador and show him the natural beauty of their land. Her parents could introduce him to their scholar and scientist colleagues at the university, as well as merchants dealing in raw and finished materials of possible benefit to New Vulcan colonists.

But Sarek politely said no. Twice. His diplomatic services were in great demand on New Vulcan. His calendar was full for the next several months, and he could not deny his people's needs.

Sarek saw disappointment spread across his soon-to-be daughter-in-law's face. His son's eyes widened slightly; whether with in anger or dismay, he was unsure.

"You are always welcome to come to New Vulcan," he said quickly. "Please consider it an open invitation; you may visit at any time, for as long as you wish. My staff will make your travel arrangements and my Ambassadorial quarters are sufficiently large to house many."

Nyota let a flare of excitement travel through the bond to Spock, who gazed back at her solemnly, then returned his attention to Sarek's image on the screen.

"Father, your offer is generous. Nyota? Is this invitation agreeable to you?"

"Yes. A visit to New Vulcan will be very interesting."

"Then we do accept, father. I will consult with Starfleet regarding a mutually convenient leave time. The visit will also provide the three of us with sufficient time and privacy to discuss our future plans. To be perfectly clear, I mean my plans with Nyota." Spock extended his fingers so that the tips brushed Nyota's. The movement was a small one, barely visible at the edge of the screen, but Sarek saw it.

"Thank you for your gracious invitation, Osasu Sarek."

Nyota excused herself from the room. Father and son shifted to a rather stilted discussion of New Vulcan business and weather, of all things, before Sarek ended the transmission.

Spock and Nyota's workaholic habits resulted in a considerable amount of accumulated leave time, and they were able to schedule a seven-day visit to New Vulcan without difficulty. Nyota was excited, eager to get to know Sarek better and experience Vulcan culture firsthand. She reviewed news reports from New Vulcan so that she had conversational topics ready. She packed a few textiles from her home region in the United States of Africa and loaded a padd with novels by African authors, hoping to share something about herself and make friends on New Vulcan.

Spock appeared less excited. He did place an order for a few sets of new, Vulcan-style clothing. Nyota's expectations for the trip distracted her so thoroughly that she did not sense Spock's unease through their gradually deepening bond when they discussed travel plans.

Nyota liked physical contact with people she knew. Her family hugged, kissed, walked arm in arm, and led people by the hand into dancing. However, Nyota's mother and father had been loving, but rather quiet and conservative about sexuality, referring to it in only the most clinical terms on the rare occasions when it was spoken of aloud in the Uhura home. This did nothing to stifle Nyota's awareness of her own body; she did self-exams with a hand mirror, learned by trial and error how she liked to be intimately touched. The pleasure she took in feeling her body moving as she ran track or danced went beyond sensuality to a joy in being alive and in good health. She knew how fortunate she was to be so.

Spock was no virgin when he first came to her, but he had discussed at length his mixed opinions - he would not call them emotions, despite the hint of pain she heard in his voice - about non-sexual touching. His mother had hugged and kissed him. His father, though proud of his son and distantly affectionate, seldom touched him.

As they spent more time together, they discovered new levels and varieties of warmth and affection. Spock seemed to yearn for simple physical affection and companionship in his private life. The frequency of his light touches to her waist, her face, and her shoulders surprised her, as did his habit of leaving her small gifts related to her likes and intellectual interests.

Spock surprised Nyota during previous winter holidays with small gifts, wrapped in red and green paper in acknowledgment of her Anglican upbringing. Christmas celebrations at the Uhura family compound were open to all, with Muslim relatives and friends joining in the socializing. Spock had made a good impression during his holiday visit during the previous year. However, the Uhura house was crowded and finding time alone with Nyota was difficult. Nyota was similarly frustrated. She had hugs aplenty from relatives, but none from Spock until the couple took a long walk one morning and curled up together on an old blanket beneath a sheltering tree. Spock wrapped his limbs around Nyota's body like a vine, moaning with comfort at her touch.

Months before, he had embraced her just as closely when they lay together on the lumpy Starfleet-issued sofa in his Academy quarters, talking quietly about everything under the stars. Aboard the Enterprise, they lay in bed touching and talking during the artificial nights when both were too fatigued to do more. Sometimes Spock tucked Nyota's head beneath his chin and stroked the tightly curled hair at the nape of her neck.

At other times, when Nyota sensed Spock's stress and fatigue across their bond, it was she who lightly rested her chin on his hair while she massaged the parts of him that she could reach; he lay down carefully so that only part of his heavy body rested on hers. During those times, sometimes she picked up fleeting worries across their deepening bond, ruminations on shipboard operations that had not gone as well as intended. She knew that Spock would be reluctant to discuss an emotion as illogical as regret. Nyota tried to respond with thoughts of assurance, confidence, and affection. Eventually his thoughts grew relaxed and abstract, becoming formless expressions of delight in the warmth and curves of her body and of sheer pleasure in her companionship.

Both grew slightly irritable when days went by without physical contact. Spock meditated. Nyota exercised or danced. Their private reunions following such periods of deprivation seemed to generate the energy of a star going nova. They always ended with cuddling.    

On New Vulcan, 2261

Sarek seemed pleased to welcome them to New Vulcan and spend time with them; his manner was much friendlier with Nyota face-to-face than it was during transmissions. Sarek's staff, well trained in diplomatic protocol, neither stared nor sneered at Nyota or any other alien visitors who came to meet with Sarek. Spock was treated with deference and admiration. The Ambassadorial mansion was a peaceful retreat.

Despite her attempts to dress modestly in Vulcan clothing whenever they went out in public, she was aware of the eyes that focused on her ears and facial features. Her aural sensitivity picked up unkind whispers, comments that she knew they intended her to hear. But Spock strode tall and proud next to her in public, treating her protectively and with formal Vulcan manners making a statement: She is my equal, and she is mine as I am hers. What you think of me matters no more now than it did when I was a child.

Even with Spock's support, Nyota was uneasy about going out alone on New Vulcan during their seven day visit. However, she had no intention of wasting her time there. Deciding to treat the visit as a working holiday, she spoke persuasively in clearly pronounced Vulcan about beneficial Federation activities at the diplomatic functions where she and Spock were invited to accompany Sarek.

It was difficult to be strong at all times, of course. One evening Nyota felt so self-conscious beneath the patronizing gaze of several bejeweled Vulcan matrons during at a reception that she held her shoulders and head very still for hours. She nearly begged Spock to massage her tense, pained muscles when they finally slipped into the darkness of their transport vehicle and away from the evaluating stares of Vulcan elites. He tried to soothe her with his strong hands. The empathy he could provide was not enough to protect her.

The couple continued their cuddling sessions privately in their quarters inside the elegantly furnished, lonely Ambassador's mansion. The stronger surface gravity of New Vulcan made Nyota tired. The cuddling sessions rejuvenated her. During one of these times, with Spock wrapped around her, Nyota could feel him struggling through their bond. Spock seemed to feel assaulted by emotions. He tried to dispel both his childhood memories of bullies and the bitterly fresh reminders of aggressive looks and pointed comments made during nearly every day of their visit.

Nyota moved the clothing away from her arms and neck so that more of her bare skin touched Spock's. He relaxed almost immediately.

As the minutes they lay together stretched to an hour, Nyota formed an idea. It led her to the glassed-in promenade where many of the remaining Vulcan craftspeople and merchants had set up business on New Vulcan.    

New Vulcan, 2261

Shop of Lapan-zupsu Donstelralth

A few pieces of beautifully carved and upholstered furniture sat on display in the front of the small shop. A tall, stocky Vulcan wearing a canvas smock walked through a set of double doors at the back, saying, "Moi kima (good afternoon)..." before he looked closely at her and blinked rapidly.

"Moi kima," Nyota responded, her long fingers held aloft in the customary salute.

The carpenter masked his surprise, blinking only once more before he slightly inclined his head and continued in heavily accented Standard. "I, my name is Stelendos, apprentice. I bring the head carpenter, the shop owner, to you."

"Thank you," Nyota replied in Vulcan. The young carpenter flushed slightly green, dropped his gaze, and quickly vanished into the back of the shop.

Feeling awkward, Nyota wondered if she should have responded in Standard instead to indicate her appreciation for the man's attempt to communicate with her. Everyone liked to be complimented for their use of a language not their own. She sighed and sat down on a long bench with sinuously curving armrests. Most of her interactions with Vulcans had been among the elite and upper middle classes, she realized, and an outsider could follow their patterns of courtesy and behavior without putting much thought into it.

The head carpenter, a Vulcan of middle years, strode into the front of the shop. She was surprised to see that he wore his hair long, in the pre-Surakian style.

She rose to her feet. "Moi kima. My name is Nyota Uhura."

"And I am Donstelralth. I already know who you are. Welcome to the shop. May we speak Standard? I do like to keep my language skills fresh. I used to have a few Earth clients before...well, one must go on as best one can, and there is as much need to earn a living on New Vulcan as in our old home. I am pleased to have visitors from all planets. How may I assist you today?"

"Some time ago, I saw a beautiful carved table you made. It was one of the most striking pieces in a museum exhibition organized by the diplomatic corps of New Vulcan. I have heard many wonderful things about your craftsmanship."

"It is kind of you to mention it. I am aware of your presence in diplomatic circles. You are the subject of considerable interest as the bondmate of the son of Ambassador Sarek."

"I suppose that I could hardly have expected to come here unnoticed, or unknown."

"Indeed not." Donstelralth's gaze flicked back toward the windows set into the double doors, where Nyota thought that she saw pointed ears and bowl haircuts quickly duck out of sight. She stifled a smile.

"Please forgive the intrusive curiosity of my staff. I will speak to them about their behavior."

"There is no need. I am accustomed to it by now, believe me. Osasu Donstelralth-" he raised both eyebrows as though unaccustomed to being addressed with the honorific, but she pressed on - "I came to ask if you will accept a commission, something for a gift. A couch, suitable for someone tall. Something that people...a person with long legs could comfortably stretch out on. I am asking you because I knew that you have worked with clients from several galaxies. I thought that you would be familiar with...different habits of seeking comfort while at home." Mindful of the inquisitive workers beyond the doors, Nyota strove to keep her voice low, yet calm enough to avoid any suggestion that she was embarrassed by her own request.

Donstelralth said, "The Ambassador's son is indeed of a notable height compared to many humanoids, or even some Vulcans. Perhaps such a couch would be most comfortable if it were not only of a size appropriate for humanoids with long legs -" his gaze quickly swept down along the length of her ankle-length skirt before meeting her eyes again "-but also of a breadth appropriate for two such beings to sit, or lie down side by side."

Feeling her face grow warm, Nyota bit her lip, then nodded. "Precisely."

"This gift is a surprise?"

"Yes, for the winter holiday season. I would like it delivered to the Earth home that we temporarily share, please."

"Understood. The design process, fabrication, and delivery will be carried out in secret. Please, be seated." The carpenter activated a large screen on the wall facing the display furniture. "These are our standard designs." He touched the corner of the screen, showing her images of several different couches. "Any of these may be adapted to fit your requirements. Occasionally we receive requests for specialty furniture designs. We are always pleased to complete such requests to the highest functional and aesthetic standards. May I add," he said, looking at her with a serious expression, "specialty designs are handled with great discretion, despite the apparent curiosity of my staff. No information about your furniture design will be shared with anyone without your permission."

Nyota wondered if some clients had requested furniture designed for bedroom play, but couldn't imagine speaking such a question aloud.

"I appreciate that," Nyota responded, although she wondered how long it would be before the secret escaped into the realm of Vulcan gossip.

Donstelralth let a few more images of sweeping wooden curves, graceful carvings, and plush upholstery fade in and out on the screen before responding. "The furniture we create does, as you said, have something of art in it. Vulcans are, as Earths might say, a practical people. This shop could create functional chairs, tables, couches without ornamentation. However, most beings enjoy some form of aesthetic enhancement. The furnishings we build are pleasing to the touch and to the eye, and they are also durable. The wish to make one's personal environment a pleasant one is not a sign of weakness. Perhaps you will think me eccentric for speaking so personally, but I believe that we have something useful to learn from the Pre-Surakian period. "

"I hope that you will forgive me for asking a personal question, but is that why you wear your hair long? An homage to the Pre-Surakian period?"

"It is agreeable to know that you are well versed in Vulcan history, if not surprising. Yes, that is part of the reason. I am a newcomer to the higher realms of Vulcan society. At one time during my youth I had hoped to study the architecture of our planet, and eventually to train to become a torvausu, an engineer or a teacher. My family had no wealth or influence. So...my plans changed. All of our plans changed. The roads and bridges I would have built would be gone now. At least I am teaching my apprentices something useful. I am a furniture maker with enough skill to convince some influential Vulcans that I am an artist as well, and therefore I am free to display some mildly odd behavior. Nothing that would frighten away my clientele, but I am allowed to be different."

A corner of his mouth turned up in a sad half-smile; then he looked down and wrote some notes in Vulcan script into a padd with a large screen, a kind used by engineers and visual artists. "May I say...it will be a matter of personal pride that you selected my business to create a gift for Osasu Spock. Some Vulcans look down upon him for his half-human parentage. I, as a fellow outsider, admire his integrity and his persistence."

"Sir, I have great admiration for your talents. I'm sure that your apprentices are learning more than carpentry. Some useful life lessons, perhaps?"

"Perhaps." Donstelralth looked flattered, but made no further reply; the apprentice Stelendos appeared carrying a tray of tea things. Nyota smiled at him as he set the tray down, but this only seemed to confuse him; he flushed a deep olive green. Nyota wanted to make him feel better and spoke in Standard. "Thank you for bringing the tea, and for speaking Standard with me when I first came in."

"Yer welcome, Okosu", he stammered in Standard and Vulcan, before fleeing to the back of the shop.

A different apprentice entered; he knelt down to place two large books of fabric samples on the table before her. Less shy than his co-worker, he looked at her, and said clearly in Standard, "Madam, we have also other collections of samples of fabric, if it pleases you."

"Serranstivlen has been working with the shop for nearly two Standard years now. He helped us organize the move to New Vulcan. He is also a talented carver," Donstelralth said, nodding at the apprentice.

"Thank you, Osavensu," the young Vulcan said. He cast one more interested look at Nyota before he turned and left. Apparently Spock wasn't the only younger Vulcan paying attention to human women. Nyota wondered what this might mean for the future of the Vulcan colony.

"Very talented, and a bit arrogant," sighed Donstelralth. "Please make some changes and suggestions for the design, if you would like." He handed her a stylus and moved the padd in front of her.

Nyota accepted the stylus and made notations on the template image of a couch displayed on the padd's screen. Made comfortable by the calm, unpretentious atmosphere of the shop, she stayed for nearly a full hour and a half of Standard time, chatting with Donstelralth and accepting additional cups of tea from the apprentices. She was amused to see that a different young Vulcan brought out the tea tray each time, allowing each of them to steal a closer look at their human visitor.

Donstelralth fixed Serranstivlen with a stern look when the young Vulcan made his third trip from the workshop, this time bearing a bowl of fruit. "How goes your progress on that table for the cultural center?"

A faint green blush appeared beneath the tawny color of his face as he protested, "I applied the last coat of stain this morning. It is not dry yet. We apprentices desire only to make the lady comfortable." He scurried back into the workshop, and there were no further interruptions.

At one point, Donstelralth explained quietly that certain clients chose to submit life-size holos of themselves using their existing furniture in various positions and movements. The holors were measured by a computer program so that the new furniture could be built to suitable dimensions. This made it possible for them to enjoy the commissioned pieces in their favorite ways. He explained it as indirectly and politely as possible while looking at the screen on the wall, but Nyota found herself unable to respond and she quickly changed the subject. The risk of such holos getting into the wrong hands was too distressing to contemplate. She couldn't imagine asking Spock to pose for such holos with her, anyway.

Soon, Nyota and Donstelralth reached an agreement on the design and fabrication of the couch. It would be delivered on the date she specified, three months hence. Nyota insisted on paying in advance. As Donstelralth initiated the funds transfer, Nyota could almost hear the sound of credits flowing out of the 'couch fund' account she'd set up.

The couch had cost several months' worth of saving and planning. No doubt Spock would declare this large furniture purchase to be illogical, as they had not yet selected a permanent home or scheduled a date for their formal bonding ceremony. Nyota didn't believe in missing opportunities. Months might go by before she encountered anyone else skilled in Vulcan crafts. Only a year ago, she would have bragged about her ability to live for a month using only the possessions she carried in a small backpack. Now she was gradually surrendering to a nesting instinct that had begun to shape her life with Spock.

Thanking Donstelralth, she left the shop.

San Francisco Bay area, 2261

Three months later

A quartet of muscular Vulcan dvunsu, or movers, arrived at the apartment late one morning during the winter holiday season. Nyota recognized and greeted Serranstivlen and Stelendos in Standard and greeted the others in Vulcan. Too bad Gaila wasn't in town to see the movers; she'd have enjoyed watching their biceps flexing as they carried the pieces of the sofa inside and assembled them. Donstelralth accompanied them, curious about his client's reaction. Nyota could hardly restrain herself from bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as layers of protective wrapping was peeled away. The man noticed her movements and she was sure that he almost smiled.

"Oh! It's lovely! The carving, the design, the fabric - it's wonderful. What a beautiful couch. Osasu Donstelralth, you are truly an artist. I thank you and all of your apprentices."

His shoulders jerked slightly upon hearing her use the formal honorific, but Donstelralth gracefully accepted her compliments and display of emotion.

Nyota walked around the couch, admiring it from all sides. At her request, the movers had placed it in an open space away from the walls so that it faced two other chairs and table, forming a small, square seating area. She examined a section of carved wood on the back closely. It resembled high Vulcan script, but its stylized appearance made it difficult to interpret.

"It reads, 'This object was respectfully created for Osasu Spock at the request of Okosu Nyota Uhura by Donstelrath, Lapan-zupsu on New Vulcan.'" The inscription was followed by the date of completion and location of the carpentry shop.

"Thank you for making such a detailed inscription. I am honored to have the opportunity to purchase a piece from you. Spock will be so pleased. He has a strong ongoing interest in Vulcan aesthetics."

"I was honored to create a piece for two people who devote themselves to knowledge, tolerance, and communication. Thank you for your earlier offer of tea, but we have market visits planned. Please contact me with any inquiries. Sochya eh dif (peace and long life), Nyota Uhura."

"Dif-tor heh smusma (live long and prosper), Donstelralth."

...

As the apartment door closed behind him, Spock paused and sniffed the air, frowning.

The faint scents lessened when he took three more steps forward, replaced by a different one - a faintly aromatic wood, recently cut and sanded. He turned back toward the door and leaned closer to one side of its frame, then the other. It seemed that someone - several someones who had exerted themselves and wore clothing cleaned with a solution common in Vulcan households - had brushed against the door and walls.

Vulcans?

"Computer, state occupancy."

"This dwelling is presently occupied by Spock and by Nyota Uhura."

He took a few steps forward. The freestanding rack where Nyota hung her jackets and warmer scarves during the winter season was several centimeters the left of its usual place.

Burglars?

Vulcan burglars?

Spock's muscles tensed. Where was Nyota? He had to protect her. Didn't she know better than to enter a home where there were signs of a recent break-in? Extending a mental inquiry through their bond, he found her shielded from him. His hand dropped to where he would normally have carried his phaser, had he not been on campus. He shifted his body into a defensive Suus Mahna posture.

"Nyota?"

"Spock?" she called to him from within the apartment.

"It is me, Nyota," he called back. "Is all well?"

She almost bounced into the entryway, smiling up at him. "All is well. You're here with me. Welcome home, honey." Her brown skin glowed with a restless energy. Everything within him smiled with relief, and he bent down to kiss her full lips in the greeting she preferred - and that he preferred too, if he were to be honest. Tonight she didn't stand still long enough to let the kiss deepen. Her slim fingers moved quickly over him, brushing a caress over his suddenly warm cheekbone, removing his jacket, stroking down his back, and quickly squeezing one of his firm buttocks.

"My absence lasted a mere eight hours, ashayam. Did a temporal anomaly occur here today, or is there some other reason that you welcome me so warmly?" he asked, one eyebrow aloft, finally taking note of her dress, or lack of same. She wore a mere flutter of deep red, satiny fabric, a garment that bared her shoulders, part of her bosom, and her shapely calves. Fascinating. It was fortunate that he had mediated for a sufficient period of time that morning, because his evening promised to be an energetic one. He removed his shoes, placing them on a rack by the door.

Nyota hung up his jacket and clasped both of his hands in hers. "No anomaly, but an enhancement to the interior of our dwelling."

"Indeed? Vulcans were here today. They seem to have leaned against the entrance to our dwelling." He looked at her expectantly.

She raised one eyebrow back at him. "They leaned for a good reason. Would you like to relax with a cup of tea or to meditate, Spock?"

"Nyota, you are evading the question."

"Affirmative." She kissed his chin. "Close your eyes now. Don't give me that look. I have a surprise for you." He raised both eyebrows in what might be the equivalent of Vulcan eye rolling, but lowered his lids. She looked at his dark, full lashes and repressed an admiring sigh. Clasping his forearm, she began to lead him towards the open living room area, knowing that he was probably calling upon his memory of the room's layout and could have easily found his way there without her help. However, the way he moved slowly hinted that he trusted her to lead him, letting his powerful memory go still for a moment to allow a playful moment with her. If she hadn't been in such a good mood, the indication of trust might have brought tears to her eyes.

"You're in good hands," she whispered, running her free hand up his chest and pressing down slightly over his nipple. He inhaled sharply, and she giggled as she traced a circular pattern over the palm of his hand with her thumb.

"Nyota, have you decided to carry out your threats to, as you say, 'pounce on' me the minute I get home?"

"Maybe. I wouldn't mind at all if you returned the favor, and pounced on me, you know."

"I shall remember that."

"Good." She stopped walking, and he paused. "Open your eyes, love."

Silence.

"You have obtained an additional piece of furniture."

"Not just any piece of furniture. This is a special couch."

Spock circled the couch the way Nyota had earlier. "The carving...it is Vulcan in style, but...unrestrained."

"Three months ago, when we were on New Vulcan, I visited Donstelrath, the Vulcan carpenter. He's also an artist, in my opinion. This couch is a gift for you."

"I am...appreciative." His hands moved over the soft fabric on the couch. "My mother collected textiles of a fine weave similar to this when she was new to Vulcan, before I was born." She watched his powerful hands press down into the soft but resilient cushions, then let go. "The style of carving on the feet of this couch and its armrests resembles carvings from the Pre-Surakian period."

"That historical period interests Donstelralth. He even wears his hair in a period style." Spock blinked at her, and she continued. "Donstelrath gave me some freedom to choose the design and the fabric, but the aesthetic expression is his."

Nyota lay down on the couch; her toes didn't reach the end, even though she stretched herself out, smiling up at him. Spock noticed the way her skin seemed to glow a deep cinnamon, in delicious harmony with the smooth dark red ribbon of cloth she wore - there was not exactly enough of it to call a dress - and the velvety emerald green fabric of the couch.

"I requested a special size for this couch. Long enough for one Spock to lie down on comfortably, and wide enough for both of us to cuddle on...if you find such activity agreeable."

Spock gave her a real smile, both corners of his mouth turning up this time. "I do."

He was already pulling off his uniform shirt, pants, and socks, folding and stacking them some distance away but still in his line of sight. Nyota hoped that no emergency would break out during the next two hours but if it did, Spock would be dressed within seconds.

He stood over her wearing his thin black undershirt and black knit boxers. The sight of him made her heart rate speed up. Starfleet's uniform rules gave the women flirty miniskirted dresses, and decreed sexy underwear for the men.

"Nyota, now I understand," he said thoughtfully. "You are wearing red and the couch is green. This is a gift related to the historical gift giving practices of a particular Earth winter holiday involving the decorative use of red and green colors."

"Coincidence. Actually, I chose the green because it reminded me of the forests in the Western regions. You do like the color?" She worried belatedly that it might carry an unpleasant association with Vulcan blood.

"I do. It is an unusual but pleasing dark green and you are correct, it may be considered analogous to a verdant Earth forest." He lay down beside her and stretched out fully, the soles of his feet just brushing the opposite armrest. Making something like a purring sound, he closed his eyes for a moment, then turned on his side and gathered Nyota in his arms.

"I could have ordered it in Science blue instead," Nyota murmured into the warm skin of his neck.

"Our loyalty to Starfleet hardly extends to home furnishings." His large hands stroked her back and hip. Where were the fastenings to this garment?

She laughed and gently bit his neck; he growled. "Yes, but if it were Science blue I could lie down here when you're away and feel less lonely. I'd rather lie on top of you than a couch at times like that, of course."

"Please feel free to lie on top of me at any time." Spock rolled onto his back while holding her close so that she lay stretched along his body.

"Sometimes this happens anyway when things get turbulent on the bridge of the Enterprise and I fall out of my chair." She wriggled on top of him, pressed the cradle of her hips against his, and was pleased to find a hardness at the front of his boxers.

"As I become more accustomed to this couch, I wish to do things with you that would be inappropriate on the bridge of the Enterprise and perhaps on any Starfleet property," Spock murmured as his hands wandered over her.

"Oh, that reminds me. Sit up for a moment. Watch this." Nyota rose up on her knees and moved away from him, drawing a small groan of protest from Spock. She gripped the armrest by their heads with both hands and pulled it slightly towards herself, then pushed it away. The armrest lowered and made a flat surface so that the couch was more like a bed. "You can flatten the other armrest, too," she explained. She pulled the armrest back into place, pulled it toward her, and raised it a little higher. "You can also raise the armrests to other positions in case you, um...need to bend over them or...lean on them while you, um, are doing something. Spock, you are smirking."

"I am merely intrigued by your delicacy in describing these alternate uses for a piece of furniture that you, yourself commissioned."

"Oh, I didn't walk just in there and say that I wanted a sex sofa! I simply happened to think that versatility would be useful."

"I am eagerly anticipating our opportunity to test that versatility by engaging in a variety of sexual positions on this couch."

Nyota sat astride him and began to pull the black T-shirt over his head. "I'll put a slipcover on the couch when company comes over, so that we can keep it clean for ...our times together. I would have asked the Vulcan delivery men to put it into the bedroom, but it had to be assembled in parts, and..."

"...and you were too embarrassed to ask them to place it in the bedroom," he finished, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement.

She caressed his chest, letting her fingers trace patterns through the hair. "Well, yes, maybe I was embarrassed. Donstelrath promised discretion, but... I said that we might have out-of-town guests who would sleep on the couch, and this justified the location, and the adjustable arms. I don't think he believed me, of course, but he was too polite to say so."

"You are a fascinatingly illogical woman, Nyota. You show great enthusiasm for lovemaking. You initiate sexual activity with me and appear to welcome my ongoing desire to make love with you. You have bitten me - hard - and torn clothing from my body on several occasions. You are passionate and responsive, yet you are reluctant to discuss sexuality directly. Indeed, you rarely give any verbal acknowledgement that it has a role in your life."

"I do not want to talk about this now, even though I am trying to get you to have passionate sex with me."

"Peace, ashayam. I am only teasing you. I find it pleasurable when you tease me. Am I so artless at teasing?" His hands slowly caressed her nipples through the satin fabric, and her hands squeezed his shoulders convulsively.

"No, I think that you're the biggest tease there is."

"I welcome your illogic, ashayam." He sat up, pulled down a thin strap with his teeth to bare one breast, and sucked. It was one of her favorite sensations and he knew it well. She moaned and rocked against him and pulled down the other side of her gown, begging him to kiss her there too. Finally Spock paused for a breath and murmured, "You are intellectually challenging. You are emotionally challenging as well. I am not the same man I was when I first met you," he admitted, before he pulled her into a deep kiss.

They kissed, shifted positions, and found themselves lying side by side again. A stack of thin, platinum bangles on Nyota's wrist - a previous year's gift from Spock - jingled softly as she slid her long, slim fingers below the waistband of his boxers. Her smooth fingertips and the rounded edges of her short fingernails moved over the treasure trail of hair low on his flat belly. Spock growled. Nyota smiled demurely back at him and used her other hand to stroke the cloth straining over the rising flesh beneath. Her fingers circled, moved up, down, up again. Spock lifted his hips, trying to slide the boxers down, but she fought him and continued to tease him through the cloth as he grew harder.

"I wish to remove them," he whispered.

"You'll get your wish eventually." She bent down and gently bit him through the cloth. Spock gasped.

"Ah sanoi! Release me, please," he moaned.

"Beg."

He growled back. Nyota giggled.

Clasping both hands around her hips, he lifted her up and reversed their positions. Nyota raised herself up on her elbows and watched Spock release the arm at the opposite end of the couch so that it lay flat, providing enough space for him to stretch out. Lifting Nyota again, he placed her shoulders against the plush armrest. His hands stroked up along her bare legs and beneath the smooth fabric she wore.

"Am I the only one wearing underwear here?" Spock pulled away, removed the boxer shorts, and lay down. "You measured well when selecting this couch, Nyota." He stretched out enough to be comfortable as he kissed his way up her thighs, bit her stomach, and licked a little circle around her navel. Nyota whimpered a little. Spock lowered his face to a place just above her vulva. Leaning down, he rubbed a cheek against the neatly trimmed triangle of hair there, eyes closed. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. Their gazes locked, held, heated.

One corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile. Nyota drew in a breath and held it.

Spock moved his arms slightly to the sides, pushing her thighs further apart. Thighs that trembled. Even after more than two standard years together, he still made that happen.

Long, warm fingers gently spread her open. He broke their shared gaze to look down at her while he stroked.

"You've seen it all before," Nyota whispered, slightly embarrassed.

"It is slightly different each time I look. I find it interesting."

"Ah...please. Can't you just..."

"You wanted something, ashayam?"

Spock lowered his mouth, finally, licking and stroking her with his fingers and even humming low in his throat in a way that made the sound vibrations travel and stimulate her even further. Nyota moaned, called him beloved, then angel, and she felt something that could have been a laugh, only she wasn't sure because she couldn't tell if she was hearing it or only feeling it or both, and his tongue seemed to be moving faster. She couldn't keep still; her hips rose, but he pushed them down to keep her closer to his mouth. His lips and tongue moved with gentle determination over and around her clitoris. She made melodious sighing sounds, and her legs spread a little wider over his broad shoulders. Everything seemed to get wetter and wetter; her clitoris, his mouth, his chin, his fingers inside her, the skin of her thighs against his forearms and shoulders.

"Good?"

"Oh- ohhh-" her hands were pulling lightly at his hair, leaving it in disarray.

"One might translate that as 'yes'." He gave her a lopsided grin and bent down again.

A wave of pure pleasure and release broke over her, the bond opened wide, and she felt him feeling her pleasure, mixed with his own satisfaction in his ability to please her. He wanted more, as did she, and she let him see what she wanted. He let her know that he wanted it too. He paused to rub his neck; she reached up to help him massage away the slight cramp that resulted from holding it in position so long. He favored her with an affectionate smile before he gently but firmly pushed her down, and settled himself between her hips.

"K'hat'n'dlawa?"

"Yes, ashayam?"

"Thank you for the couch. It is obvious that you expended a great deal of thought and care in choosing it for me for our home."

"I like making you happy. You make me happy."

"Shall we devote time this week to exploring the other capabilities of this couch, if it pleases you?"

"Oh, yes indeed. I think it will please both of us, don't you?"

- END -