“While I find the term to be offensive and sexist,” Spock began, but Nyota leaned down and bit his lower lip, which should have been painful and unpleasant, except that it was not. She reached down and Spock gasped at the feel of her small, soft hands on his erection. She leaned forward, her untidy ponytail slipping over her shoulder to pool on the bedspread, and kissed him.
Spock did not know why human kisses affected him more than Vulcan ones. He had been raised in Vulcan society – it did not make sense. But sense mattered little to him, then. Her tongue was tracing his lips and then his teeth and then it was slick and soft against his own and he could not have enough of her.
She pulled away, gasping for air, and stray hairs were stuck to her sweat-damp skin and her eyes had a bright sheen to them. She reached down and took him in her hand again, raising her hips, and she gave a little toss of her hair, and then she guided him inside her.
Spock sighed – or gasped, he was no longer sure – and Nyota leaned in to press their foreheads together. “You’re all mine now,” she said, her voice low and rough. Her eyes were solemn.
Spock did not trust himself to speak. Instead he nodded, and Nyota seemed satisfied with that. She rode him as if it would last forever, and her hands roamed over every part of his body, as if memorizing him with the pads of her fingers and the palms of her hands, and even on occasion the contours of her lips.
She knew when he was approaching climax. He could not say how she knew, but she did, for she bent down and whispered, “Say it,” and though he could have asked for clarification, he knew to what she was referring.
“I am yours,” he gasped, reaching down to bring her with him, and with those words she pressed her mouth hard against his and tangled her fingers into his hair and she tightened.
She bit his shoulder and moaned, her whole body shaking with the force of her climax.
“Nyota,” Spock said, one hand resting in the small of her back to hold their bodies together. “I am yours.”
Re: Cat Fight part 3
Spock did not know why human kisses affected him more than Vulcan ones. He had been raised in Vulcan society – it did not make sense. But sense mattered little to him, then. Her tongue was tracing his lips and then his teeth and then it was slick and soft against his own and he could not have enough of her.
She pulled away, gasping for air, and stray hairs were stuck to her sweat-damp skin and her eyes had a bright sheen to them. She reached down and took him in her hand again, raising her hips, and she gave a little toss of her hair, and then she guided him inside her.
Spock sighed – or gasped, he was no longer sure – and Nyota leaned in to press their foreheads together. “You’re all mine now,” she said, her voice low and rough. Her eyes were solemn.
Spock did not trust himself to speak. Instead he nodded, and Nyota seemed satisfied with that. She rode him as if it would last forever, and her hands roamed over every part of his body, as if memorizing him with the pads of her fingers and the palms of her hands, and even on occasion the contours of her lips.
She knew when he was approaching climax. He could not say how she knew, but she did, for she bent down and whispered, “Say it,” and though he could have asked for clarification, he knew to what she was referring.
“I am yours,” he gasped, reaching down to bring her with him, and with those words she pressed her mouth hard against his and tangled her fingers into his hair and she tightened.
She bit his shoulder and moaned, her whole body shaking with the force of her climax.
“Nyota,” Spock said, one hand resting in the small of her back to hold their bodies together. “I am yours.”