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Spock was packing his clothing when his padd alerted him to an incoming message. He was preparing to leave for Vulcan, taking time off of his teaching schedule concurrent with the Earth holidays known as Christmas and New Year's Day. It being Earth calendar December 22, most Cadets were already gone. However, some had stayed on campus, catching up on studying and leaving at the last minute for their trips to visit family.

So it was surprising, but not impossible, that he was contacted by one of his students. A most intriguing student. He flushed hot inside when he saw her name on the incoming message, and he probed his thoughts like one might a wound, because he already knew why her name elicited that response. He already knew how appalling, illogical, and uncontrollable his feelings were for this particular student. In short, he wanted her body and soul. He had successfully hidden these feelings from her for months, though he did not always successfully hide them from himself.

He was going to wait a reasonable number of minutes. One minute. He picked up the padd immediately.

From: Cadet Uhura, Nyota
To: Commander, Spock

It was addressed to him, but the salutation indicated someone else.

Dear Santa,

Spock was disoriented. He recalled the name Santa, and he spent a moment searching through his memory until he found it. His mother's delight over Christmas, and her tale of a man who flew in a sled and brought presents to all children, everywhere, on a single night. An obviously impossible feat. If he was not mistaken, that night was, according to the Earth calendar, December 24, just two days away.

Why, though, did Cadet Uhura-Nyota, as he knew her from spending long hours talking and, he thought with another hot blush, appreciating one another's company-send him a message intended for a fictional character? When he read the next line his head shot up and his eyebrows came together.

I've been very, very good and got a ninety-nine on my last test with Commander Spock, the suckable Vulcan rock star.

He was Vulcan, that much was at least half true. He did not understand the use of the term "rock star" in relation to himself. But he did know what suckable meant, and he spent a moment considering how and why he might be described as suitable to be taken in the mouth and drawn upon. Nothing reasonable occurred to him, but some of the unreasonable things that did come to mind were shameful, indecent, and very appealing. He shifted on the bed, working out a situation that had developed in his pants.

He had difficulty reading more, yet could not tear himself away.

So here is my list, for your consideration. In re: Commander Spock, I want:

1. Vulcan eyes to undress me, down to my soul. Eyes black like ink.

Spock was not entirely knowledgeable of Human idioms, and he was sure at the moment that he was not understanding something critical. How can one's eyes undress a person? More to the point, Cadet Uhura had written a list of items she desired in regards to him. Was it a prank? He considered the possibility and discarded it. Despite his very limited understanding of Earth humor, he knew instinctively that Nyota would not consider such a thing amusing.

That left him still at a loss for her motivation. To create such a list, let alone deliver it, was odd and intriguing. She listed black Vulcan eyes as a desired Christmas gift, and his own matched the description. Furthermore, as far as he was aware, the Cadet did not know any other Vulcans. His thoughts on the matter were thrilling and required further consideration. He continued to read.

2. Hair Shining. Dark. Delicious. Enough to grab onto. (Santa, please place him in positions where I can reach said hair to grab.)

Again, Spock flushed with copper blood and bashfulness. This listed item was obviously about his hair, and her accompanying, parenthetical request made his penis do unexpected things, the phrase "place him in positions" being perhaps the most provocative he'd ever heard. This item clearly suggested she had a sexual interest in him. That she might return his affections was something he deeply desired, though he could not have imagined receiving confirmation of her mutual regard via a "Christmas list." No matter. The form of delivery was of no consequence. He read on eagerly.

3. The eyebrows, to kiss and lick, especially when he does that cute thing with just one of them.

And so he did.

4. Pointy ears. They're so lickable, too.

He virtually felt himself turn a deep, deep green, his ears being an item of great sensitivity, both socially and physically. The thought of Nyota observing them made him shiver. The thought of her tiny, wet tongue touching them made his head spin, and he had to unfasten his pants.

5. In fact, all lickable parts of his body are hereby included on this list. Including but not limited to his broad shoulders, slinky hips, long legs, tight ass.

He knew he was considered aesthetically pleasing in the case of some of these body parts. However, he had never before heard his hips described in any way, let alone "slinky." This word had never come up in any conversation in his life, so he took six seconds to cross-reference it with a 21st century English dictionary. He hoped he had not miscommunicated with his body, as he did not mean for his hips to appear furtive or stealthy, though how he might control how his hips appeared was an unanswered question. Upon one more second of study, he found an informal meaning of the word was sleek and graceful. He found this definition nearly as absurd in regard to his hips, but he assumed it was her intended meaning.

Once this was established, he stopped dead. Caught up in the definition of slinkiness, he felt that he might have missed one or two key words. His eyes were drawn back to item 5 and he re-read it twice to be sure he understood.

He had to banish the mental image of Nyota licking his ass or he would lose consciousness.

6. Even his perfectly fitted pants.

He took a moment off of being aroused, to be utterly confused. Did she wish to run her tongue along his trousers? This seemed oddly acceptable. He looked down at said pants and was intrigued to find his penis was in his hand.

7. Want. Smart. Nerdhotness.

Ah, he knew about this phenomenon among Human women. In this area, he could definitely deliver.

8. Nippable jaw line.

Indeed his lower jaw was sharply defined and likely easily accessed to bite. This had not occurred to him before, nor would it ever had occurred to him if Nyota hadn't requested it from Santa. At the thought of her biting his face, he gripped himself tightly and his hand began to move of its own volition.

9. Santa, I want the mouth.

She wanted his mouth.

If she had ever made such a broad statement in class he would have pushed her to refine and add detail. In this case, she was not present and his only recourse was to review this sentence's possible meanings on his own and discern the most likely among them.

He gripped and stroked as he enumerated. Nyota had often shown signs of appreciation while watching him speak in various languages. Perhaps she enjoyed the movement of his lips when he formed plosives and bilabial clicks. He pictured her watching him demonstrate alien words, then trying to speak them herself, licking her soft lips in the process.

Or perhaps she considered his mouth aesthetically pleasing. His lips were nearly symmetrical and pale pink; the color stood out from his otherwise greenish complexion. He had heard them once described as sexy by a woman who did not think he could hear her. Perhaps Nyota wanted to look at them. His hand moved with increasing speed as he thought of Nyota simply watching his mouth move. That she might want to touch his lips, for example with the tip of a finger, was his next thought, and he moaned and squeezed.

He moved on to additional potentialities. All had to be considered. Therefore, it was--in theory--possible she wanted his mouth to touch her in some way. He had difficulty imagining how her skin might taste, and how it might feel as he slid along it with his tongue. Though sometimes, often, of course without any empirical information, he dreamt of what one of her breasts might be like in his mouth. He had observed her breasts, surreptitiously and he sincerely hoped discreetly. He found them to be intriguingly shaped and sized, rounded but not globular, small enough to please his sense of order and control, yet large enough that they might yield under pressure from fingers or lips. His hand was compelled to pump his penis now unreservedly. He had no choice.

10. Santa, please make him mine only. I don't like when I find out the other girls are looking at him.

The thought of Nyota wanting him at all, let alone wanting him to exclusively belong to her, made him ache with disbelieving pleasure. It was so heartbreakingly sweet it nearly broke his concentration and rhythm. But not quite.

Her list concluded:

Thank you, Santa. I will take delivery in my bed on the evening of Earth calendar December 24, 2256.

He conjured up a mental image of lying in her bed, on his side to face her, nude, erect, against her coveted skin, entwined, slick. With a gasp, he shot semen all over his clothing.

He was entranced and sat, dumb, for a long moment. Then as if waking from a deep sleep, he focused his gaze and saw what he had done. Masturbating was not something he engaged in often, and he was surprised at himself. Masturbating over an electronic message from one of his students was not only inappropriate and condemnable, it was "creepy." At the same time, thinking of Nyota in sexual terms elicited a response most natural and positive, and he desired to adore her body, not defile it. Since they clearly felt mutual sexual desire and since, after all, she had written to him, his response, while not praiseworthy, had been morally acceptable. And that was good enough for him.

The message ended with a postscript.

I can translate this list into any of several languages if it helps my case…

Spock imagined Nyota delivering this list in person, in Standard, Andorian, Klingon, Tutu, or any language she wished. Thinking of her speaking this list in Vulcan made his penis twitch in the sticky hand that still held it, and he worked to wipe away thoughts of her mellifluous voice, her small mouth, making the sounds of his home language. Why he did not know. Why would it be wrong to think about her mouth forming the words, telling him in person that she desired him? Was it so wrong to feel something developing in his mind? Or in his hands?

He would not do it. Not now. He subdued his body. Masturbating over her message again would not be reprehensible--completing the action once was as bad as twice and he might as well enjoy himself. But it was something he would not allow himself to do, only because it would waste time.

He wanted to minimize the number of minutes that might pass before he could reach her across campus and deliver himself two days early.

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Happy birthday, outtabreath! Hugs and kisses, etc.