Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Star Trek franchise.

Trigger Warning: mentions of rape, intense scenarios

Lately I've been having these feelings.

Something in me is changing.

Part of me didn't want to change. Part of me wanted to stay with what I knew, what was comfortable. I'd taken a chance before, and the story was always the same. I was left behind. I was alone. I was unwanted. But the thing is, these feeling are strong… undeniable. Unavoidable. It's like I have no choice.

It's like… destiny.

I know. An order of overrated with extra cheesy and a side of cliche. But… I can't deny it any more. I can't look the other way and maintain the status quo.

I am not at equilibrium.

I am not the same.

And the thing is… he was changing too.

I don't know how to explain it. But things were… building. With every conversation, accidental brush, glance, the situation was becoming clear. I could see it reflected back at me in the warmth of his eyes, the way the chocolate of his irises seemed to melt everything else away until I was left exposed to his examination.

Naked.

Wanting.

It was as frustrating as it was tantalizing.

I'd been wondering, in the darkness of the night, when the crescendo would build and eventually snap. I reveled in the anticipation of the newness of "what happens then?" It had been the subject of fantasy - both waking and otherwise - for far too long.

Some days it was more than I felt I was capable to handle.

The sheer nearness of him, his overpowering presence in my life. The consuming terror of if I fucked this up somehow. I didn't want to feel how much he filled my life by the loss of him. I didn't want to push too far.

But I didn't want to stop.

I could feel the potential of the future in the way that his eyes would roam over my face when he thought I didn't notice. In the way that I drowned in such bliss when he shared his life with me, piece by piece. When I turned to talk to him and already found his gaze meeting mine, heavy and hot. So hot on my skin. The happiness that filled me in those precious moments when I wrestled a smile from him. How I knew that if he just let me in, then I could witness something truly perfect.

I owed it to myself, after everything, to try.

I was ready.

Screw the equilibrium.

"Am I fit for duty?" I swung my legs on the biobed, impatient and annoyed. I'd been held prisoner here for, like, ever, and the siren's song of my Captaincy was begging me to run out the door. It was only the threat of the painful hypospray in Bones' hand that kept me in place. For now.

Said doctor glared at me like I was everything wrong with the universe.

"I want to keep you for at least two more days just on principle of you being such a goddamn pain in my ass," he growled back at me. I eyed the weapon in his hand suspiciously. It was too close to my neck for me to feel comfortable. I was about a million percent positive it was a sedative in case I tried to bolt.

Or if he just got too irritated with me.

"Bones, is there anything medically wrong with me that will impair my ability to lead this ship?"

I loved the guy. Really, I did.

But he was such an asshole after an away trip went wrong.

(I frequently and studiously ignored the fact that pretty much every away mission went wrong, and that's why he worried so much)

"...No," he finally ground out. I couldn't stop the grin that broke out on my face, even if I'd wanted to.

"But!" he said sharply. I paused my preparation to leap off the bed and fucking sashay my way out of this hellhole.

"If you don't stay off your feet when you don't absolutely need to walk somewhere, I will drag you back here so fast you go back in time." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh my God, Bones, will you lighten up?"

"Lighten up?!" he practically screeched. I winced. Oh dear. Not again.

"You lost so much blood, I didn't think we had enough in our bank to get your body working again. Scotty is going to be cleaning those stains off his transporter pad for weeks."

Really, it had only been a scratch. I don't see why everyone was being so dramatic.

"You flatlined twice on my table, Amy. Twice."

A tiny, barely-there scratch.

"Yes, yes, I know. You've regaled me with accounts of your medical prowess practically non-stop for the past week. You've very talented. I'm properly chastised. Won't ever happen again, for at least the next two days. Can I please just leave?"

Bones narrowed his eyes at me, and the hypo in his hand wavered dangerously for a second before he let out a bone-weary sigh and dropped his hands.

"Why do I try anymore? Yeah, whatever, get the hell out of my medbay."

I did not squeal as I ran out of the door. I did not.

Ambrosia, thy name is FREEDOM!

I hummed, and skipped all the way down the hall to the turbolift. If I pressed the button for deck eight a little harshly, could I really be blamed? Since it was Beta shift right now, I was going to crawl underneath my comforter and turn on old movies and enjoy the fuck out my privacy. I might even steal some ice cream from the galley. Scandalous I know, but I was drunk on the feeling of my own agency. It was an anything could happen kind of day. Afternoon. Evening. Whatever.

I wanted all the junk food ever made, right the hell now.

I stepped off the lift, beaming, and practically twirled all the to my door. But I stopped. Spock's quarters were one door down. I'd seen neither hide nor hair of my First Officer since my imprisonment. I was torn.

I could spend the evening by myself and throw Bones and his dietary restrictions out the airlock…

Or I could see if a certain Vulcan wanted me to wipe the floor with him at a game of chess. I could even expedite my return to duty by gleaning the necessary details from him. Business and pleasure.

Choices, choices.

Before I could really decide, Spock's door opened and he stepped out into the hallway with me. I blinked at the suddenness of his presence. He blinked back at me, equally surprised. I grinned at him.

His face smoothed out into nothingness. My smile faltered a little bit. He looked cool and composed normally. I was used to that, I never took it personally. It just was.

But he looked downright cold.

"Hey, Spock," I offered, uncertain.

"Captain," he greeted me tersely.

What's his problem with me now? I whined to myself.

"You up for a game of chess?" I could see the indecision on his face, and it threw me further off kilter. I suddenly felt very small and insignificant under his piercing stare. He looked like he very desperately wanted to say no. He looked downright inconvenienced by the offer.

He looked angry.

I hadn't seen him like this since we'd had to limp our way back to a starbase after the incident with Nero. That was over three years ago. Things between us had mellowed, and eventually warmed until I could safely call Spock one of my closest friends and most trusted advisors. He'd never given me pause to think he didn't feel the same. So he was angry at me for something. Really angry at me for something.

The only thing of note in my recent past was this damned away mission gone wrong.

Oh..

Duh.

"I am amenable to your proposal. What time will you expect me?" I let out a soft breath of relief. I took it for the olive branch it was, despite the look of displeasure in his eyes, and gave him a soft smile.

"Would 2000 hours work for you?" He nodded stiffly.

"I am uncommitted to a previous engagement at that time."

"Great! I'll see you then!"

If there was a little bit of forced cheer in my voice as I turned and bolted into my room, well… that's my own business. But when I took in the state of my room and it's disorder, that would be everybody's business if I didn't take care of it by the time Spock showed up.

I set to work.

My dirty laundry went down the chute in my designated laundry bag. The pillows for my couch were picked up off the floor, fluffed, and put in their rightful place. I threw away old wrappers and old food that looked alive at this point, disgusted. How could something so wholesome like my personal space devolve in just a week? Man, I felt like a slob.

I flitted from one task to another and back like a woman possessed. I had all this nervous energy from being cooped up for too long with nowhere to direct it. The encounter with Spock outside my room hadn't helped at all. If I could just get the disorder in my room under control, then maybe the disorder of my emotions would settle as well.

Probably not. But a girl could hope.

When I had finished, everything glowed, and I was sweaty and gross. It had taken me nearly two hours. Spock would be here soon. I had just enough time for a quick shower before his prompt ass would be ringing at my door.

I was braiding my wet hair in my closet when the chime went off. One last quick check over my room and a nod of approval to myself for self-confidence, and I strode over to my door to let him in.

He was wearing simple black slacks with a charcoal gray turtleneck and my mouth watered. Did he have to look that delicious all the time? Every hair in place, and his lips all full and enticing and ugh. His clothes clung in all the right places, and hinted at all the better places, and I just wanted to drag him in and rip everything off him and let loose.

It was always an urge I fought when I saw him. Lately it had become more urgent, and it was becoming harder and harder to find reasons to keep the internal battle going. It settled inside me as a warmth between my legs, and a faint cold tingling all over my skin. I wanted to open him up and crawl inside him until no one ever questione who he belonged to.

I wanted to consume this man. To mark my existence into his perfect, marbled skin. I wanted to wrench sounds from him that he didn't know he could make. I wanted to be the first thing he thought of in the morning, and the last word on his lips before sleep. I wanted to be the air in his lungs, until he couldn't breathe without me next to, around, and in him. I wanted to worm my way into his soul, until we bled together and became a whole, complete person.

I loved him so damn much that it made my heart ache in my chest.

Spock cleared his throat in front of me, and I snapped back to reality. I blushed a fierce shade of red and took in a steadying, shaky breath.

"Punctual as ever, Mr. Spock. Please, come in." I stepped to the side, and he glided past me. The faint scent of cinnamon and nutmeg wafted into my face, making my brain foggy.

"Would you like something to drink?" I squeaked out an offer. Spock turned to face me, his deep brown eyes examining my features for a moment before he turned and walked to my couch.

"Yes, thank you. I will have tea, please." He set the chess set down on my coffee table and began the process of setting the game while I walked over to input the codes for our drinks. Spock's tea came first, my orange juice next. Something sweet but tangy sounded perfect about then.

It was only when I was seated in the armchair perpendicular to him, both of us sipping our beverages that I could feel the tension in the air.

Oh, honey, I'd felt the tension earlier when he'd breezed in, all sexual appeal and manly. But this tension was sour, and stale.

And angry.

I glanced at his face. Not to drink in how handsome he was this time, but to really see him. There was a hardness around his eyes, and a purse to his lips that told me he was still displeased with me, to say the least.

Well shit.

No way I was going to get a chance to enjoy a battle of wits before we aired our dirty laundry. It would throw me off my game (ha, I'm so punny).

Sighing, I set down my drink and turned so my whole body faced him.

"Spock, can we talk?" He lowered his drink and considered me for a moment. I could see the same resignation that I felt in his eyes as he delicately set his tea down on a coaster.

"If we must," he said evenly. I frowned at him. Since when had talking to me become such a chore for him?

"What's going on with you? And don't tell me there's nothing going on, because it's obvious there is. You haven't badgered me for details about my health or being released from Bones' custody, which is odd enough. But aside from that you seem… well, angry." His lips twitched minutely.

"If you say so, then I will concede to your judgement." I narrowed my eyes at him. Not quite glaring, but it was a near thing.

"That, right there. That aloofness. You're not normally like this. I'm not a little girl, if you're upset with me, you can talk to me like an adult and we can work this out. Just talk to me."

Something in him snapped.

"I fail to see how that would mend anything, as you continually disregard any and all suggestions I have when they would matter the most to you. If such an important issue as your life is so trivial to you, then it stands to logic that all else in your life is also treated with the same amount of flippancy." he practically snarled at me (though to an outsider, he sounded as even as ever).

I blinked.

What the fuck?

"Excuse me?" I gasped, completely dumbfounded. Yes, I was expecting this to be about the away mission, but the viciousness of his anger was something I hadn't thought he would share. Not so easily. He had to be well and truly pissed off to jump the gun like that.

"I distinctly recall imploring you no less than five times on Ataxian 2 that your faulty rescue plan was not only possible, but probable to end with severe harm to your person. Your dismissive attitude in the face of overwhelming evidence and repeated past offences has led me to the conclusion that not only do you not respect my support as your First Officer, but as a friend. In light of this hypothesis, what could you possibly do to justify that what I have to say matters now and not when you throw yourself in front of danger?"

I flushed with indignation and jumped to my feet.

"You listen here, Commander. Every person on this ship is my responsibility. Every. Person. It is my job to make sure that the ship runs smoothly and suffers minimal losses on missions - "

"What, Captain, makes you think your death would not impact the efficiency of every person on this ship?"

My tirade died in my throat as I felt like I'd been thrown into a pond of ice water. I looked down guiltily at my painted toenails. I had nothing to say to that. I knew that my death would affect everybody. The Enterprise wasn't a regular crew. We weren't just co-workers, we were family. We had been tested, time and again, and always come through a tighter group for it. We always struggled, and we always prevailed. Not because of my leadership. No. Because there was trust, and complete and utter faith in the capabilities of the people around us. Because we loved each other.

But I hadn't… I hadn't been blessed with something like that before I became Captain. I'd always been alone. I'd been the only constant of my life. People came and went. Sure, some stayed longer than others, but eventually everybody left me. When I met Bones, things had changed a bit, but it wasn't until I'd found this ship that I really understood what it felt like to have friends. To have a family that would love you no matter what you did.

And I couldn't lose that.

I was too far gone. I was in too deep. There weren't any more walls I could put up between myself and my crew. I was too invested. They all meant something to me. And for something to have meaning, it can also be taken from you. And that way lies pain.

So I couldn't.

I could not.

And I didn't know how to make Spock understand this need, this drive to go above and beyond for those I looked after. I had already gone through something like this on Tarsus, and I knew the weight of failing the people who depend on me. I swore to myself that I would never again experience a pain so profound. I'd rather die first than watch someone I love die for me.

I am an inherently selfish person.

That was the root of the problem, wasn't it?

I was too selfish to stop worrying my crew. I would always, without fail, jump in front of them to save their life because I couldn't handle the pain of it if they died.

So I had to save everyone.

…Because I didn't trust them enough to save themselves.

Fuck.

"I don't think anything like that, Mr. Spock," I finally answered, subdued. I sank back into my chair and stared at my hands. They were so small, so delicate. So much power in such small limbs. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to give someone so young this kind of authority? I suddenly felt choked by the weight of my station, of all the lives I had to look after. Crushed by the responsibility.

My vision blurred, and I realized I was crying.

Annoyed, I sniffled and tried to rub the moisture off my face.

"Forgive me, Captain, but I find I am in need of meditation and must retire to my quarters." Spock stood, gathered his game, and smoothly walked out the door without a second glance.

I'd just wanted… not this.

I'd just wanted.

I grabbed his cup of peppermint tea and took a sip, colors swimming in front of my face.

The tea was still warm.

Things didn't resolve themselves given enough time, like they had in the past.

Alpha shift was awkward and depressing, and the days bled into each other with the mundaneness of it all.

It was repetitive.

It was lonely.

I missed him.

"What the hell happened between you two?" I groaned and thumped my head on my best friend's desk. I'd come here precisely because I didn't want to think about our resident Vulcan.

So much for that plan.

"Bones," I whined. "Please, just, can you not?"

He harrumphed and I felt the vibrations in his desk and he opened and then shut a drawer. There were thunks next to me. I raised my head just enough to see an unopened bottle of Elijah Craig and two glittering glasses. I raised my head further and looked up at the Georgian man.

He looked exasperated.

My friends were the best friends, forever and ever, amen.

I didn't realize how much of my life, of myself, I shared with Spock until I couldn't anymore.

It was maddening, how deeply he'd already become a pillar for me to build everything else around. But now that pillar was crumbling, and I could feel the foundations of my life burying me.

He was the picture of professionalism, and that was all I was allowed of him anymore.

This was more than heartbreak.

This was like losing a cure I hadn't even realized I needed. I felt sick, and abandoned, and I couldn't even fault him for it. He made fair points. He was even right, in some ways. In a lot of ways.

I was being stupid.

I knew that.

I was often stupid.

But he didn't even want to hear me admit that. I'd tried. He'd thrown up those giant, stone walls I'd torn down over the years, only this time they were stronger with the conviction of his anger.

But it wasn't quite the same, because this time Spock had cared.

And I'd hurt him.

Deeply.

And I didn't know how to bridge this rift between us anymore.

It was my birthday.

I hated my birthday.

Everything always went wrong on my birthday. My recent falling out with Spock was, like, two months ago, but close enough. It was my birthday. If I said this blight happened on my birthday, so mote it be.

The bridge crew had thrown together a (not so) secret birthday party, with chocolate cake, but not even the sweet, sugary confection could staunch my angst.

I was depressed, dammit, and I was going to wallow in it. Festivities be damned.

I'd stepped out of the mess hall for a moment. There were just too many people, and it was all too loud for me. I'd needed a second to learn how to breathe again. Me and my pity needed to have our own little party. With this slice of cake I'd pilfered.

Because reasons.

Of course, because everything in the history of always pointed its finger at me and said, "YOU," I had to be stuffing the biggest bite ever into my mouth when Spock walked around the corner.

He froze.

I froze.

I very carefully licked the frosting off of my lips.

"Uhm," I stuttered, rushing to swallow the moist cake. "Hi."

Spock straightened, his posture perfect and rigid.

"Greetings, Captain."

"What are - what are you doing here? Not that I don't want you to be here! I just thought, maybe, you probably didn't want to… I mean, it seemed -"

"Lieutenant Uhura asked to speak with me as soon as I became available." My jaw snapped shut with an audible click and my face flushed in embarrassment. I dropped my gaze down to the small paper plate in my hands.

"She's inside," I mumbled. Fuck, I was not going to cry in front of him. Not again. He was not going to see how much he could still hurt me.

Je refuse.

"Yes, I assumed as much," he responded dryly. I wilted. He made to move past me, but paused just before he entered the mess hall. I could feel the heat of his body radiating through his shirt. It made the side of my arm tingle, spreading through me slowly, like molasses.

"Happy birthday, Captain," he said, so softly that I barely heard him.

And then he was gone.

Something dangerous, something potent, spread through me until I could feel it in my fingertips. Something almost like hope.

"Bones, get you and your Southern sensibilities out here, or I will haul you over my shoulder!" I hollered through the door to his quarters. I heard a thump and a low curse. I giggled into my hand. Moments later the door whooshed open. My smile soured.

"Good lord, do you own anything that isn't plaid?" Bones glared at me and shoved past me, grumbling to himself while he stalked off towards our transporters. I chased after him.

"You're lucky I don't have a hypo with me," he snarked. I scoffed.

"I do not believe, for one second, that you are leaving this ship without a veritable pharmacy hidden somewhere on your person."

"Well I wouldn't need it if you didn't have every allergy known to the Federation." I stuck my tongue out at him like the grown ass woman I was.

We were on leave for a few days. Our old mission had taken us to a starbase in beta quadrant, which just so happened to be where our next assignment was. However, there was an overlap of three days before I could meet with Admiral Barnett (and what was he doing way the fuck out here?) to get the details. So, while we resupplied and waited on the brass, we had some down time to spare.

Precious, precious down time.

And since we were on a starbase, only those that elected to or had duty were required to stay behind. This place would become a veritable ghost town in a couple hours. Not that I cared.

No, there was a warm body and soft bed waiting for me somewhere out there.

Bones was going to help me find it.

He just didn't know it yet.

It was the pounding in the back of my skull that brought me back from the dead.

Maybe that's a bit unclear.

My hangover's hangover had a migraine, and the amount of pain broke my unconscious bliss.

Better?

"Unnggghhh…" I groaned, instantly regretting the sound. It wriggled inside my ears and made straight for my brain like a bat out of hell. I winced. I felt like someone had sawed off the top of my skull and was pouring straight acid onto my poor, abused mind.

Why did everything always hate me?

"Hey, hey, I think she's waking up!"

Did I know that voice? I don't think I knew that voice. Whatever.

"Who cares? She drank so much that I doubt she could lift a finger if she tried, nevermind the little present we left her."

I tried.

I was not successful. Also, awwww, they gave me a present? That's so sweet. I love presents.

It was my birthday recently, you know.

"I don't know about this, Mitch…"

Poor guy. Sounded like he needed a hug.

"What do you mean? She was practically begging me to on the dance floor."

Wait.

"Come on, man, I don't wanna get in trouble."

Uhm.

"Look, if you're not gonna help me get her undressed, then you need to leave."

What.

I felt fingers prying at my shorts, fumbling with the button. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn't feel my eyelids and nothing was working right. Had they spiked my drinks? Where was I? Wait, I'd just been with Bones on the ship. What time was it?

Where the fuck was Bones?!

I groaned, wincing again as the sound rattled between my ears, and weakly pushed the hands away from me.

"Wh-where… who… I don't…" Why was it so hard to talk? My tongue had never been this heavy after drinking. I'd been every kind of drunk there is for mankind, believe you me, but this sluggishness was not something I'd ever had to experience. There was a soft chuckle above me. I turned my face towards it, my eyes finally cracking open a little.

"Hey there, baby. I'm about to rock your world." Coldness swept through me. I blinked, very hard, and then focused all my willpower on getting my eyes to finally fucking listen.

He was human.

His hair was brown, his eyes were brown, and he had a nice, even tan. I blinked at him. I didn't know how him. Why… how had I… where was I? I looked behind him.

The sleek metal of a building rose up on either side of us. The lighting back here was dark. It felt… dirty? An alley? Wait, I knew the symbol on that building! That was the nightclub I'd been planning to drag Bones to.

I blinked.

His face filled mine when my eyes opened again. I felt a warmth on my lips, and then something wet, slick, and disgusting wormed its way into my mouth. It was repulsive. I felt a wave of panic, though it was dim. But the nausea was sudden and violent. I shoved him away just as I turned my head to the side and threw up everything I was worth.

I threw up so hard, it came out of my nose.

"Oh fuck, that's disgusting!" said the man I now knew to be Mitch. HIs voice was deep, and rasped like he was a chronic smoker. He also had a very slight lisp.

Oh. That thought had been a lot clearer. Wow. I felt a lot better.

I turned my face back and glared up at my captor.

"Where the fuck am I?" I tried to growl, but it came out broken and damp. Mitch looked at the pile of vomit next to me with disgust. He glared at me.

"You know, you're pretty hot, and you were grinding up on me like you wanted to fuck in front of everyone inside… but that's disgusting."

"Good. Maybe you should leave, Mitch."

Mitch did not leave.

Mitch grabbed my arm and hauled me away from my sick before it got in my hair.

Mitch dragged me further into the alley.

Mitch's friend was no longer here.

He threw me on the ground none-too-gently. I yelped as my hip flared with pain on my landing.

Then Mitch was everywhere.

He rolled me on my back and pinned my hands above my head. I could feel the bones in my wrists grinding together, and whimpered. Mitch spared no more time for talking. He took something out of his pocket and with a flick, had a knife in my face.

"I was going to let you enjoy this, since you seem like such a slut. But you're turning into a lot of trouble. I don't like trouble. So I'm going to keep this simple. If you scream for help, I will kill you. If you try to bite me at any point, I will kill you. Do you understand?"

His voice made my stomach quiver. Normally, if I was sober, I could have fought this guy off me in a heartbeat.

This was not normal.

I was so terrified that I felt numb, but I nodded.

He sliced my shirt first. He nicked my collar bone in his haste. I could feel the warmth of my blood and it dripped down to my neck. I could feel the warmth of my tears as I started to cry, but I bit my tongue so I didn't make any noise.

I felt paralyzed.

This man was going to rape me. He was going to rape me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Bones is never going to forgive me for this. Fuck, why did I have so much to drink? I know better than to let myself get caught like this. Stupid. You're so fucking stupid!

I whimpered as he shoved his hand down my shorts.

A door at the end of the alley banged open, and Mitch stilled.

He'd thrown me behind a dumpster, so I was just out of sight, but I could see the light hitting Mitch's legs. If someone even looked down here, would they think he was just a drunk patron, throwing up? Would they get curious and come look?

Could they get here in time if I screamed?

Mitch's brown eyes met mine and slowly, he put his knife up to his lips to remind me of his threat.

I hadn't forgotten.

He pressed the blade deep into my neck.

Should I? Was it worth it? Was it worth my death for this piece of shit to get caught? Did I want to die knowing, at the moment I died, I hadn't been defiled? Maybe I should. It might be easier. I wouldn't have to see the look on everyone's face. I wouldn't have to fight the rest of my life to not be the victim.

I opened my mouth to scream, and the blade pressed harder into my neck. I could feel it just about to break the skin. I had to be fast. I took in a deep breath to make this count and -

"Captain? Is that you?"

I fainted.

I gasped, and shot up, thrashing to throw Mitch off me. Strong, warm hands wrapped around my wrists, and I felt the fear this time. Primal, overwhelming terror overtook me. I threw my leg up, trying to knee this piece of shit so hard that his ancestors felt it. He smoothly dodged, and yanked me to my feet. Why was it so dark? It was pitch black. What the fuck?

What the fuck?

"Lights to 60%."

Wait, that wasn't Mitch.

The lights brightened, and Spock's face was cool and impassive above mine, his chocolate brown eyes boring into mine. We stood there for a few tense moments, his hands wrapped around my wrists. I was shaking.

And then I was shaking.

My legs gave out, and Spock went down to the floor with me, never letting go of me. It hit me then, how close I had come. What could have really happened if Spock hadn't found me. How did he find me? Whatever, not important right now.

I was almost…

I started crying.

Fuck boundaries, I needed a fucking hug. I threw myself at my First Officer. He let go of my arms, which I wrapped around his neck. He hesitated for a very long time before wrapping his arms tentatively around my waist. I buried my face in his shoulder and sobbed for everything. I couldn't stop shaking. I felt so cold. I couldn't remember how it felt to be warm.

I'd taken all the classes, heard all the lectures. As enlightened as a time this was for Earth, there were still criminals. There were still people the just enjoyed inflicting pain. That wanted to take and take until their gluttony was sated, with no care for who got hurt in the process. I knew this. I had known people back in Iowa that had been victims of such gluttony. I'd taken so many self-defense classes in the academy, I'd become a Teacher's Aide.

I knew Krav Maga for fuck's sake.

How could this happen to me?

I could still feel Mitch's lips crushed against mine, and his tongue in my mouth. I could feel his hands pawing at me under my shorts. My whole skin crawled. I felt like a stranger in my own body.

I felt disgusting.

Spock tightened his hold on me.

"Captain," he said softly, his voice washing over me. I cringed and turned my face away from his. I looked past his shoulder at my surroundings. We were in his room.

"Captain," he tried again, a little more insistently. I shook my head. I couldn't speak. I couldn't. How could I explain this to him? My relationship with him was already in shreds, what kind of person would he think I am if he knew how fucking stupid I had been? What I had almost let happen?

"Amelia that is enough," he growled, his arms nearly crushing me with how tight he suddenly squeezed. I flinched. He relaxed just as suddenly. He brought his hands up to my bare shoulders (wait, where was my shirt?) and pushed me off him.

I looked down at my lap.

I was in pajamas, I realized with some surprise. I was in a pair of gym shorts I'd forgotten (read:stolen) to give back to Spock after our laundry had been mixed up, and a wife beater I'd stolen from Bones. Had Spock dressed me?

I felt my whole body flush.

"Captain, will you look at me?" I shook my head. There was a pause, and then a careful exhale that could almost be called a sigh, if you looked at it sideways.

"Captain," Spock's voice was so quiet, so soft. Like a caress. I didn't deserve it. And besides, wasn't he still pissed at me? His fingers caught under my chin and he gently - but firmly - raised my face until there was nothing left around me but him.

I blinked tears out of my eyes.

"Sp-Spock, please." I sobbed. I was begging. I wasn't sure what for though. To leave me alone? To give me another hug? Pretend he never saw anything? To help me find Mitch and eviscerate him? I didn't know what I wanted.

I just wanted to stop feeling so fucking helpless.

Spock let go of my chin and carded his hands through my greasy hair. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. This was okay. This was safe. Spock was safe. Spock would never… Spock was better. Spock was the best, actually. The best First Officer in the whole fleet (you didn't even have to take my word for it, he'd gotten so many offers from other Captains - and yes, it made me preen when he turned them all down). The best kind of friend. The best scientist. Hell, I'd even go so far as to say that Spock was the best Vulcan, and he was a hybrid.

(Save for his father, grandmother, and Spock Prime, every other Vulcan I'd met was a dick).

"Captain, would you like a hot beverage?" I opened my eyes. I'd never seen that expression on his face before. I wanted to say he looked lost, but that wasn't quite right. He looked angry, too. And like he wanted something? I wasn't sure. I sniffled and nodded.

"Cocoa?" I asked, hopefully.

"As you wish," he said with one last stroke of my hair. I restrained a broken giggle. There's no way he had seen Princess Bride. It was an old movie, and not many people were into movies that old anymore. But the coincidence still struck me as funny, even in this situation.

Spock returned moment later with a mug full of cocoa, topped with half melted marshmallows (awwww). Gingerly I took the cup, and a grateful sip. The cocoa was scalding hot, and I could feel some taste buds burn, but it spread warmth through my whole body. Something in me relaxed ever so slightly.

I loved cocoa.

"Aw, sweetie, did you get hurt?" my mom asked. I sniffled pathetically and nodded into her neck where I was cradled. Safe. Warm. Protected. I bit my bottom lip so it would stop trembling. Big girls don't cry.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" I looked up at my mom meekly. She was so pretty. Her eyes were like blue crystals, and her hair was blonde and curly. My hair was blonde and curly, too, so I hoped that meant I would grow up to be pretty like Mommy.

"Susie Howards pushed me of the play structure when I told her Santa wasn't real." My mom blinked in surprise.

"What makes you think Santa's not real, Amelia?" I rolled my eyes at my mom.

"The speed that his sleigh would have to travel to reach all of the children around the world is impossible unless you're at warp, but even then it's a stretch. People would notice him, because his sleigh would have to compensate in size for the reactor necessary for him to travel. You're trying to tell me that he does this with deer, and before we even had warp travel? Please." My mom threw her head back and laughed, long and hard. It stunned me. Mom never laughed like that. Sam says she used to, but I've never heard it until now.

"I'm sorry, how old are you again?"

"I'm three already!" My mom chuckled one last time and shook her head. She hiked me up higher on her hip and grinned at me.

"Alright, my little scientist. Let's go deal with your cut and I'll make you some cocoa."

I smiled at the memory, an old pain flaring in my chest. I took another sip, now that the marshmallows had sufficiently disintegrated, and let out a contented sigh. Spock took a careful sip of his own drink.

"You seem more in control of your faculties," he observed. I gave him a shy smile and shrugged.

"I love cocoa."

"Indeed."

Then I realized this was the first time I'd talked to Spock about something not work related in a few months. Which made me remember why we were here, together, talking. And not talking about.

My hands trembled just enough for the cocoa to spill on my legs. I swore creatively, and in three languages at the burning temperature. Spock raised one eyebrow. I'd almost say he looked amused, if I had the confidence to make that claim.

"I was unaware you were so gifted with languages," he commented. I threw him a half-hearted glare.

"I'm nothing like Uhura, if that's what you're wondering. I just think it's mandatory to learn the most basic communications for as many languages as I can."

A beat.

"Under what statute is swearing considered mandatory?"

"Mine," I grinned for real this time. He considered me for a moment before taking another sip of tea. When he set it off to the side, I tensed.

"Captain, it is imperative that we converse on some issues." Issues? As in plural? As in we wouldn't talk about what had almost… happened? I couldn't help feeling cornered.

"We are talking," I murmured.

"That is not my meaning. I would appreciate hearing your opinion on some things." And I felt the same, consuming loneliness I'd been struggling with for the last two and half months. I tactically brought my mug up in front of my mouth so that I could both sip the delicious chocolate and have an excuse to stay silent.

I let my eyes wander over his face in a familiar path. Eventually they drifted down until I saw his hand that held the tea. There were bruises over his knuckles. I frowned. It almost looked like…

Wait.

"Spock, did you punch him?" I asked, incredulous. I lowered my cocoa. Spock followed my eyes down to his knuckles where he inspected the damage for many silent moments. After he finished, he raised his eyes to meet mine again.

He shrugged.

"Did you just shrug?!" He raised an eyebrow at my shrill voice.

"Yes, Captain." I spluttered, gaping at him.

Then I started laughing. I laughed so hard that I could feel how red my face was turning with the lack of oxygen. I set my cocoa down and wrapped my arms around my middle, heaving in air whenever I could. Spock just stared at me while I rolled around his floor like a dying hyena, but I couldn't stop. It was just too much. The absurdity of Spock shrugging at me after practically ignoring my existence for months, the stress of how badly my night had gone, my self-disgust and concern for Bones - I still had no idea where he was. It all just kind of slammed through me, and I lost it. Any semblance of control evaporated, and I cackled like I hadn't in a long time. Muscles in my face I'd forgotten about burned and ached. I felt tears running down my face with how hard I was laughing.

And then I was crying too.

How fucking unfair was this? Spock and I fought, in a way we had never fought before, and suddenly my life feels like it's in shambles. And yet he has to be the one to see me at one of my worst moments. He gets to be the one to laugh and make me feel better. He still has this ability to crumble all of my carefully constructed walls. It's not fair. It is just not fucking fair.

I think I hated him, in that moment, for how weak I could be in front of him. For how weak he could make me feel. For how vulnerable I wanted to be for him. For how little he seemed to want the same in return, and how much that hurt.

I took great, gulping gasps, angrily wiping the tears off my face. Spock watched me, quietly, intensely. I downed the rest of my cocoa and stood.

"Thank you for the drink, Mr. Spock, however I am feeling quite unlike myself and must retire to my quarters," I said stiffly. I didn't look at his face.

I was over this.

I was finished hurting myself for this man if he wouldn't do the same for me.

I turned and stalked towards the bathroom, seeking the quickest escape possible.

"Amelia, I am sorry," he called after me. My foot froze mid-step.

What?

I gingerly set my foot back down on the ground, but I didn't turn around. Sorry for what? What if he was only sorry that I'd been accosted? What if he didn't know about how hauntingly alone I'd been without him? What if he did, but he didn't care? I couldn't see that on his face. I couldn't see the pity of my attack earlier tonight without some kind of… something to let me know that I fucking mattered to him. And I was too scared to even give it a chance.

"Could you be more specific, Mr. Spock?" I asked. I could hear the suspicion in my voice, which meant Spock could definitely hear the suspicion. I hunched my shoulders inward when I heard the rustle of his clothes as he stood and walked to stand behind me.

"I am sorry for many things, Captain. I am sorry that you had to experience such abhorrent behavior earlier tonight. I am sorry you were alone. I am sorry I did not arrive sooner to spare you from such harmful memories."

I glared at the floor in front me as nausea roiled in my stomach.

I fucking knew it.

I made to step forward, but Spock put his hand on my shoulder, and I could feel him. The nearness of him, the searing heat from his hand on my bare skin. I could feel it sinking into my muscles, making them ease and loosen with the comfort of his presence. I could smell the tang of his incense, mixed with the spicy scent that just seemed to be him. I could feel how close he was behind me, and it made the back of my neck tingle. The hairs on my arms stood up. I could feel in the air how his brain was gauging my reactions and emotions through the contact, and something in me broke.

I stepped away and whirled around, throwing his hand off me.

"Don't touch me." I snarled, glaring harshly up at him. There was a sadness buried deep in his brown eyes.

Good.

"Captain, I-"

"No, Mr. Spock. You don't get to lecture me anymore. You aren't allowed to just fucking drop me like I mean not a goddamn thing to you, and then try to comfort me. That's only something I let my friends do, and you made it abundantly clear that we are no longer friends. Without hearing any sort of explanation from me first, I might add. So you know what you can do with all of your feelings that you're so fucking ashamed of? You can actually take them and go to hell."

I was panting by the end, and standing so close - too close - to him. I had shoved him harshly in the chest, forcing him backwards. He widened his eyes in surprise at the strength of my anger. Maybe he'd been expecting me to yell; I am a rather loud and rambunctious person. But he had never seen me truly angry before.

"I am not ashamed of my feelings for you Captain." he replied softly.

I refused to let my heart skip a beat at that. After everything, there was no way he meant it the way I wished he did past all the hurt and anger.

"Evidence says otherwise, Commander." I countered just as softly. Spock's lip pursed at the distance I was keeping by only using his title.

"My feelings made me act irrationally, yes, and for that I feel displeased. However, I have long since realized there is no shame in denying the importance of those I find to be, I believe the term is precious. The only difficulty is learning to balance my desire for safety against my respect for your autonomy."

I took a half step backwards. Not after everything. He couldn't just leave me and then, after everything, come in with this and make it okay. That wasn't how this worked. My forgiveness could not be bought back.

He took a half step with me.

"I am regretful that I let my concern for your safety override my concern for your sense of worth to me. It was quite unlike myself to punish you in such a way, and for that I am deeply apologetic. I will strive to never again be so illogical and punitive."

No. No, no, nonono…

I made a strangled sound in my throat as I kept backing up. I had to stop when my back hit the wall. I was right next to the bathroom. So close. But Spock put his hands on either side of my face, caging me in, capturing me. He was gazing down at me, his brown eyes practically glowing with his conviction, but I didn't want to see it, I didn't want to know. I don't want to face that someone who could feel this much for me could just leave me because he was angry. I didn't want my trust to be gained back so easily.

But I missed him so much that it was a physical ache in my bones.

"If I have to spend the rest of my life convincing you of your importance to me, I am resigned to such a commitment."

No, stop it, you can't do this to me…

"I am sorry, Amelia."

I hit him. I balled my hand into a fist and struck his chest. And it felt good, so I did it again, and he let me. I hit him over and over, the fury and indignation and pain building up inside me until I couldn't stop. I sobbed, and I choked, and I struck him for the confusion of misery of everyone in my life leaving me, why do they always leave me. He took it all in stride, grunting when I used too much force, letting pour my bitterness, my torment, my rage into him. He took it all from me, coaxed it out of my soul, and took it into himself to be cleansed and purged. With every time my fists connected, I could feel it chipping away. I didn't want it to, though. All of the struggles I'd been through had shaped me, had built me into a person with character, into someone that would never abandon a friend out of spite.

Again, we collapsed to floor, Spock cradling me in his lap. I struggled weakly, but he only tightened his grip. With a deep sigh, I submitted to my fate and allowed him to hold me.

"I am sorry." he apologized, his voice hoarse in my ear. I turned my face into his chest to hide.

I knew he was sorry.

But I couldn't forgive him.

Not yet.

I talked to Bones about what happened. After he stopped throwing things around his office, he told me I was referred to our ship's psychologist for mandatory counseling. I was assigned eight meetings.

I didn't protest.

Things between Spock and I were… better. Not healed, but it was a start. We were talking, at least, though every conversation was heavy with awkward tension. He started most conversations, trying to reach out. I could see it, even appreciate it, for the effort it was. But my pain was still too raw.

I had nightmares.

I was back in that alley, Mitch looming over me, but things always progressed like Spock had never shown up. And then it was different. The planet was hot, and it was red, and he was there and I was so small, so hungry, God, I just want some food.

I needed help.

I even offered Bones for me to be on medical leave for a couple weeks while I got my shit sorted. He was surprised at first, but softened at the open admission of weakness from me.

So yeah.

Things were different.

Our psychologist was nice. Her name was Alice. Seeing her was difficult at first. I didn't want to relive… anything, really. But I was floundering, and I was not so prideful as to think my ship wouldn't suffer for it. Spock was entirely capable of handling command while I was out of commission.

Healing, true healing is a slow process, and is often painful.

This was no exception.

But after seeing Alice for a couple weeks I felt… better. Lighter. Less like I was being crushed under the weight of my own failings. That is not to say I didn't have setbacks, of course.

We all have bad days, after all.

But she helped me see a lot of things about myself I had missed. Or rather, knew, but forgot with time and distance.

I'd been afraid, with Spock, that if I just forgave him, it made what he had done to me somehow okay. That if we just went back to being best friends, I was doing myself and my hurt a disservice. Like I was telling him that he could abandon me in anger, and I would always welcome him back.

But Alice helped with that.

She made me realize that forgiveness was not the same as enabling. I could forgive him and still set boundaries so that we never had this problem again. It's something I've forgotten a lot in life - that I can set boundaries with people. It was like hearing the voice of God for the first time when she gently led me to that realization.

We talked about the root problem of my fight with Spock to begin with. She asked me why I had such a martyr complex. I said I couldn't let my crew down by allowing them to get injured. She asked why I had so little faith in their respect and love for me (her words, not mine), that I thought they would hate me if I failed them (my words, not hers). I said how could I expect them to have faith in my duty as a Captain if I couldn't even keep one of my crew members safe when something went wrong. She asked why I thought I was a god and could control everyone's fate.

I didn't have a good response for that.

Talking with Alice about Mitch was difficult, though not for the reasons you might think. It brought up old pains of demons from my past that I wanted to stay buried.

That took longer to work through.

But eventually I got there. It took three weeks of medical leave, and an extra five weeks of sessions with her (seeing her twice a week), until I felt capable. I didn't feel so fragile, so frayed around the edges. She reminded me of a lot of coping mechanisms I'd learned from therapy ages ago, and left an open door policy. She gave me pointers on how to advocate better for myself, and cope with the stresses of being so high up in command while being so young. She gave a lot of good advice.

I kept seeing her for a long time. Not as often. Mostly to pop in every few months and talk, because I'd forgotten how much it could help just to talk to someone who was there just for you. Where their only job was to be on your side, and guide you through the mess that was everything ever. It was such a blessing, such a relief. I hadn't even known how much I'd been craving that from someone until I'd met Alice.

And I didn't realize how much I had wanted that person to be Spock, until she said so.

Which is where a lot of the pain came from.

He had always been there for me, so steady and solid, and then suddenly that stability was just fucking gone. Ripped away, and then where the fuck was I? Hanging in mid-air with nothing to support myself up on my feet anymore.

And it was terrifying to admit how much I needed him to be there, but I wanted him back.

I wanted those moment over chess where our fingers would graze by accident, and I could almost feel him on the edge of my consciousness. I wanted that warmth that twinkled within him just for me, the one that sometimes smoldered over my skin like he could burn himself right into my skin and brand me for the rest of time with his memory.

I just… I missed him. And I was tired, so fucking tired, of this distance.

Forgiveness did not equate enabling.

It was okay to forgive him and never let it happen again.

I wanted my best friend back.

"Hey, Spock?" My voice was quiet, unsure. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat as he turned around in the hall to face me. His eyes were calm, his gaze sure, as if he knew the words I wanted to say. Like he could see it coming off my skin. There was a vague sense of intrigue while he turned his whole body to face me, giving me his full attention.

I blushed. The intrigue deepened.

"Yes, Captain?" I was aware of the many pairs of eyes watching us, curious. I hadn't started a conversation with him of my own free will in a long time, unless it was business related.

My crew were such insufferable gossips.

"Uhm, if you're not too busy - which I totally understand if you are with the science division or whatever, so feel free to say no - I was wondering if, only if you're okay with it, you'd perhaps, maybe, possibly… want to play some chess with me later?" I blushed harder as I forced the words out. There was surprise in his eyes, I could see it, but also relief and… was that excitement?

"I would enjoy the diversion greatly. May I come over at 1830, Captain?" his voice was quiet, and sweet, like syrupy. It washed over me, and I could feel it reaching down inside me. God, I'd missed him. I'd missed this. I nodded quickly, having lost my voice. I looked down at my toes in a rare moment of shyness.

"Until then, Captain," he said, turning to finish what task I'd interrupted.

I turned to head for my quarters and ran. I only stopped when I was safely behind my door, leaning against the cool metal and panting.

Holy jeebus.

What was that? What was that? Ohmygod, I could not even begin to explain what his tone had implied until I took a shower and dressed.

But one I showered and dressed, putting my hair up into messy ponytail, then of course, I had to tidy up. And when that was finished, well I just had to fold the laundry I'd been ignoring. But see, then it had to be put away, and oh look, my closet was so gosh darn messy. I couldn't leave that alone.

And then Spock was chiming to be let in. I looked down at my outfit, feeling a jolt of nervous anticipation. I was wearing dark jeans and a butter yellow camisole. I hesitated, but I grabbed a simple brown jacket to zip over my top. I didn't want to suggest anything by leaving so much skin exposed.

When I opened my doors, the pungent scent of his incense wafted over me, but it wasn't overpowering. It was biting, like menthol or something, and it made my nose tingle. He was wearing black slacks again, but instead of a gray turtleneck, he had a deep, forest green v-neck shirt. The long sleeves stretched over his muscles and down to his wrists. It brought out colors in his eyes I had never noticed before. Hints of a honey yellow around the pupil, or the same shade of green flecked throughout the brown.

He was gorgeous.

And I stood gaping at him like a fool.

He let me. I could see the smug satisfaction around the corners of his lips, and in the way his eyes became heavy-lidded - but only just so. I just raked my eyes over him for all I was worth, damn my dignity.

Why are you so beautiful? It's like I'm standing in front of the sun.

And then, I realized, with some feminine satisfaction all my own, that he was checking me out too.

My face flushed bright red, and I stepped to the side to let him in.

What the fuck is going on?!

I'd never… he'd never been like this before hand.

"I am not ashamed of my feelings for you, Captain."

I'd assumed he meant his feelings of camaraderie and kinship. I hadn't dared breathe hope into the thought that he felt anything romantic for me. He'd never given me a reason to. Spock was also the picture of professionalism, and I respected that as much as I hated it.

Could he…? Did I dare to think…?

"Are you feeling alright, Captain?" I jumped out of my thoughts at his voice, realizing, with some horror, I was still standing by my door. I chuckled in embarrassment and shrugged, walking over to the replicator. I got him some peppermint tea and myself a much needed much of cocoa.

"Yep," I chirped (too forced, too forced). "I'm perfect!"

His fingers brushed over mine as he accepted the cup of hot tea. I nearly dropped my hot cocoa. I hastily set it down on a coaster and sunk into the armchair. Spock followed me down, poised as he sat on my couch. He set the chess board down in between us, and stared.

And stared.

"Wh-what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, shrinking back into my chair.

And then he kissed me.

I squeaked in surprise as he was suddenly everywhere. Between my legs, his knees on the floor. One hand buried ripping the hair tie out of my hair and burying itself in the curls around my face, and the other on the small of my back, pulling until we were glued together from our mouths to our hips.

And that mouth.

There weren't any cliched stars, or fireworks, or explosions behind my eyes. There was only the searing heat of him that demanded complacency, demanded submission. I was helpless to give it to him. I melted under him and threw my arms around his neck if only to have something steady to hold on. I gasped into him as he nipped at my bottom lip, and then suddenly his tongue was caressing the pain away. I pulled him closer, shivering at the contact and whimpered. But it was too fast, too fast, and I couldn't breathe with the force of him consuming me. I broke off from the kiss, turning my head away to gasp for air.

Not to be deterred, Spock latched on to the junction where my neck and shoulder meet, and bit.

I groaned, my hips jerking forward and the powerful wave of desire that swept through me. He growled - fucking growled - approvingly at the action, and licked his way up to my ear.

"I have been fighting the compulsion to do this for one year, seven months, and twelve days." His voice was deep, and roughed up and fuck that was so hot. I panted out some sort of noise, my head swimming. He could remember the date he first wanted to kiss me? Was there anything his mind couldn't do? I made a needy kind of noise, trying to pull him back down to me, but he just looked at me with interest and amusement.

"I know it would be more logical to consider all outcomes of beginning a relationship with you, and to weigh the consequences before making a decision," he said quietly, nipping at this spot behind my ear that made me want to whimper. I could feel it in my toes. Spock brought his face back so he could look into my eyes. He brought one hand up to cup my cheek, and his breath washed over my face, just as heavy as mine. It took a bit of effort to focus on his eyes, but when I did, I felt something cut through me and settle right between my legs in this deep well of want.

"I also know that I do not care about what is logical right now," he purred. He surged forward and was kissing me again. This kiss was different. It was just as passionate, just as demanding, but there was an extra layer added to it. A feeling of tenderness, like he was handling something sacred, some prized treasure. It made my heart throb with so much emotion, and I wrapped my legs around his waist in desperation to have him closer. I licked into his mouth, wrapping around his tongue until he started to wrestle for control, and then I retreated, only to start the process again a mere moments later.

Spock snarled with something - approval, desire, dominance - and grabbed me under my thighs and stood. And fuck, it was so hot how he could just do that, that he was strong enough to just grab me and force me along for the ride. I couldn't hold it back, I whimpered, and ground my hips shamelessly down on his. His steps faltered momentarily, but picked back up quicker than before.

When he pressed me into the bed, I knew, right then, that I would never find another after him.

The words were right there.

I could taste them. I could feel them itching behind my lips, and I wanted so badly to open my mouth and finally release myself from this one great secret. To shed this last burden, and bring him into the deepest depths of my heart. To share with him just how great and profound these emotions I sheltered for him burned under my skin every time I saw him. How every glimmer of a smile in his eyes warmed me all the way down to my toes. That his gentle affection didn't go unnoticed. That I appreciated every single fucking thing about his existence. That he was important to me in ways that no one could ever be to claim, not even Bones.

"Spock," I gasped, and his long and elegant fingers wormed under my shirt, teasing the skin around my stomach.

"Amelia," he replied, his voice kind of hot, but kind of broken.

Could he feel it? Everything I wanted to say? Could his telepathy pick the strength just how deeply I felt for him through the tips of his fingers? I was curious. I wondered. I let my feelings for him swallow me whole, until I lived, breathed, ached for him in every way I could think of.

Spock moaned into the skin above my left breast.

I grinned.

"I wish I could feel things the way you do," I admitted. Spock nipped at my collar bone and looked up at me with dark, heavy lidded eyes.

"I do not wish to change a single atom in your body." I giggled at the admission, and he kissed me, swallowing down the sound.

"So you think I'm hot?" I teased around his lips. He bit my lip in repraoch once more, and soothed the pain with his tongue.

"I think there is no way language comprehensive enough to explain the depth of my interest in ripping all of the clothes off your body at this very moment."

"Why Spock, that was practically filthy for you."

With a deep noise from somewhere in his chest, he ripped my hands off from around his neck and pinned them next to my head. I shivered at the dark promise lying in wait in his eyes.

"No, Amelia, that was the truth. Dirty would be me saying that I want to bring you to orgasm on my tongue, repeatedly, until you swear to me that you are mine for the rest of your life. Dirty would be me sinking into your warmth, but making sure the timing is just that much off for you to find release. Dirty would be making you scream my name, and begging me to relieve you of this torture that only I can make you feel."

I gaped at him. I clenched my thighs together as best I could with him resting between my legs.

Sweet Christmas, I'm going to die.

Spock's eyes glinted down at me.

"Dirty would be admitting how badly I've wanted to fuck you in your Captain's chair if only to make everybody aware just who you belong to."

I whined, arching my back up to try and bring myself closer. Fucking hell, but I burned for him to be buried deep inside me - right the fuck now. Spock slowly lowered his head and ghosted his lips over mine. It was almost like kissing, but was disappointing enough that I could have punched him.

"Dirty, Amelia, would be bringing you the edge of your climax over and over, for hours, until I say when you are allowed to orgasm around me."

I moaned.

"Ohmigod, Spock, please." He nosed at my chin, his hip pressing me further into the mattress as he grinded against me just so.

"Please what, Amelia? I cannot help you if you are not specific." I smiled up at him sickly sweet, my chest heaving.

"Would you kindly stop teasing me and fuck me into the mattress?" Spock snarled. It was a race of who could get the other undressed first. Clothes went flying off my bed, but I couldn't bring myself to care at the mess we were making. Finally I could run my tongue of the muscles of his chest like I'd fantasized about since forever.

Finally I knew what it felt like to have his too-rough tongue brush up against my skin, and how fucking wonderful it felt.

Finally.

Starfleet was not happy when Spock announced we were bonded and legally married under the laws of his people. They tried everything they could to get us separated, claiming a conflict of interest and whatnot.

They were not successful.

Spock's family was surprisingly open and welcome to the addition of yet another human in the gene pool. It probably had something to do with me being his t'hy'la. I wasn't sure exactly what that meant. Spock tried to explain to me, but it had been after four hours of… "chess," with him underneath me, all sweaty and making that face and…

I hadn't really been listening.

Whatever. I'll ask him about it later.

Bones was not so happy.

Really, I don't know what problem he had with Spock. Maybe it started when Spock threw me out of the airlock in an escape pod and marooned me on Delta Vega? I wouldn't be surprised. Bones is such a worrywart. He probably never forgave my Vulcan (my Vulcan) for leaving me to die. Oh sure, the plan had always been to have Starfleet swing around and pick me up after Nero died, but we all know how well that plan would have worked out.

But I digress.

My point is that accepting Spock into my life, and him accepting me into his was shockingly easy. Like we had simply been waiting for the other person to fill in all the empty space. I felt like I could finally breathe for the first time since I could even remember.

It was… nice.

It made my heart leap up into my throat to see all of the love I felt reflected back at me from his eyes. It was mind boggling that I could be the sole focus of someone's world, the someone could want me that much.

I couldn't believe how lucky I was. I'd been handed so much shit in my life and told to be thankful because I didn't deserve any better. At first I'd believed it, and then I'd stopped caring. About everything. I'd recovered a bit of myself when I met Bones and went to the academy, but this man… This wonderful, Vulcan, human man had gone above and beyond for me. Not because he'd expected anything out of me, but because it was his joy to do so.

So whenever I got the chance, I kissed him for all that I was worth. I kissed him with more of myself than I'd ever kissed anybody. I kissed him like I'd been kissing him my whole life, and like this was our first kiss, and like I'd never get another chance to kiss him again.

And I was so scared that I would wake up from some dream, and all of this would be ripped away from me.

But when did I ever let fear stop me?

Omg, this is my first story ever, and I'm, like, really nervous. I hope I got the characters down alright. Lemme know what I could work on, please! It would mean a lot to me.

Thank you~