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 -