The Reception 3/4

Chapter 3

Spock didn't take his eyes off Uhura. Someone pressed a glass of punch into her hand and she drank it down quickly. Another glass appeared in her hand and she drank half of it in less than a minute. He watched as the Tellar Ambassador locked his eyes on her, pushed through the crowd of protesting Tellarites and intercepted her before she reached her friends.

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

Spock moved casually toward the Ambassador and Lt. Uhura. His sharp hearing picked up the question the Ambassador had asked her. It was not actually a question but more of a demand. Her eyes widened in surprise but she quickly regained her composure.

As Spock reached them he heard her say, “I'm flattered, Ambassador but I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“And why is that? You have come here unescorted. I watched. No man has claimed you.” The Ambassador drew himself up to his full height—just over a meter. "I demand that you accept my proposal."

Spock had been standing to the right of Uhura but had slowly moved to place his body slightly between her and the Ambassador in a posture that was both protective and subtly possessive. He stared at the Ambassador impassively.

"I have claimed this woman." Spock’s voice was mild and he made no threatening move but the Tellarite must have seen a glint in his eyes that was not the result of reflected amber stones. The Ambassador's snout twitched and he puffed out a few unintelligible words then stomped away.

Spock turned to Uhura and leaned in close.

"We risk offending the Ambassador. To be rejected by an unattached female is an extreme insult. You will need to dance with me." Spock glanced over his shoulder. "Now.”

“I agree,” she answered.

Spock gripped Uhura’s elbow and lead her toward the other dancers.

The band had switched to a less raucous beat and slipped into a number that was much like an Etaxian march or an Earth tango. Some type of wind instrument sent out a low wavering note that weaved seductively in and out of the deep slow beat of a drum.

Scotty had finally extricated himself from the Ambassador’s aide and walked toward the captain, wobbling a little, dragging Chekov along with him.

“What just happened over there?” he asked, nodding towards the Ambassador.

“I don’t know, Scotty. If I know my first officer, I think he just averted a diplomatic disaster of epic proportions.”

“Is he going to dance?” asked the engineer. He squinted. "What in all that is holy is she wearing?"

McCoy had returned from yet another trip to the punch bowl with two cups and was drinking with both hands. “I must be really drunk because I think I see Spock headed for the dance floor.”

Spock took Uhura’s hand and spun her slowly around and under his arm until she was facing away from him. He slipped his right arm around her waist, placed his hand flat against her belly and drew her to him, placing her other hand on the back of his neck. He lifted his other arm out to the side and began to move them around the dance floor in a complex and graceful combination of steps.

“I don’t believe it. Either that is Mr. Spock dancing or ve have an intruder on board, “ said Chekhov. He peered blearily around the room. “Fuck your mother! That’s a good band. I’m going to grab a girl.” Christine Chapel was tottering by when Chekhov gathered into his arms and hustled her out to the dance floor. Chapel giggled like a schoolgirl.

The music intensified as more people crowded the floor. The drumbeat deepened as more wind instruments added their voice to the first. Someone lowered the lights.

“Dr. McCoy, Mr. Scott, this is not your ordinary diplomatic function. I’m actually having fun! If I didn’t know that Spock was sober and keeping an eye on things, I’d start to get a little concerned.”

“Aye, Captain. There’s a security detail just outside and the Delta shift is manning the ship. Commander Spock and I saw to it ourselves,” replied Scotty.

“Very good.” Kirk knocked back the last bit of brandy in his glass. He clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. “Gentlemen, I need to go see a man about a blonde,” he said and went to cut in on Chekhov.

“Sounds like a plan,” agreed McCoy and headed over to Sulu and Rand.

Scott turned to get more punch and ran into the diminutive Wife Three Hundred and Forty-four. She eyed him with what passed for a seductive look on Tellar and licked her lips with a long blue and pink mottled tongue.

“What the hell? Let's go cut a rug.” He grinned and shrugged and shuffled into the crush of bodies, with the Ambassador’s wife gripping a handful of his back of his jacket.

On the dance floor, Uhura was still trying to digest what just happened. The incident with the Ambassador had transpired so quickly that she had had little time to react. The next thing she knew, Spock was there, dark and beautiful, placing himself between her and the Tellarite. Now, she was pressed against his body, feeling his heat again, her head spinning. She'd thought they'd discreetly maneuver themselves away from the Ambassador and perhaps loose him in the crowd but he'd followed them with his eyes, moving around the edges of the floor to keep them in view.

Spock had bent his head and put his lips close to her ear. "It will need to appear as if I am your escort this evening. The Ambassador is apparently not going to give up his pursuit of you just yet." Her hair smelled like coconut and he could feel the taut muscles of her stomach under his hand.

Uhura's body tingled from the feeling of his warm breath in her ear. "So it would seem, sir," she replied. The skin on the back of his neck was smooth against her fingertips. She relaxed her hand and settled her palm more firmly against it.

"How long will we have to keep up this...charade, Commander Spock," she asked.

Spock raised an eyebrow at her formality.

Spock pulled her more tightly against him, holding her securely with his arm. He brought his other hand up to where she held the back of his neck. He gripped her wrist and brought both of their hands behind his back and held them there. He moved them around in a tight circle of complicated steps and then stopped abruptly. He leaned back very slowly with her pressed against his chest and put his lips to her ear again.

"Which charade is that, Lieutenant?"

He could feel every contour of her body through the thin material. For such a tiny woman, her curves were lush and deep. The outer curve of her breast pressed against his bicep. He returned them to an upright position again but didn't move after that.

More people crowded unto the dance floor. Tellarites bounced all around them.

"We can end this now. It is your choice, Nyota."

She stiffened. Nyota? The sound of his voice speaking her name… She moved out of his arms.

"I think I need some air," she gasped.

"Too much punch, perhaps?"

"I don't know. I'm just suddenly dizzy. Oh, shit!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Spock, here comes the Ambassador!"

Spock took her hand and led her off of the dance floor. They headed for the door but were blocked by a knot of Tellarite delegates dancing in their happy, hopping way. Going around them would have led them straight into the Ambassador.

"It seems a confrontation with the Ambassador is unavoidable, Lt."

"Wait. I have an idea."

She spun around and threw herself into his arms.

"Quickly! Kiss me."

"Lieutenant—"

She grabbed the back of his head and brought his lips to hers. He faltered for a moment but then slipped his arms around her back. He felt her lips move against his and pulled his head back a little.

"I said, is he still there?"

Spock looked through his lashes and saw the Ambassador standing a few feet from them, watching. Spock drew her close and kissed her again. He felt her relax against him. She twined her fingers in his thick hair and he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, swirling it slowly around hers. He kissed with his eyes half open, watching her face. He withdrew, taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting it gently.

Both Sulu and Chekov had lost their dance partners to superior officers but were having such a good time that they didn't really mind dancing with each other—if what Chekov was doing could be called dancing. Sulu nudged Chekov and pointed.

"Are my eyes deceiving me or is that Spock and Uhura making out over there?"

"Well, fuck your mother! Now I've seen everything. I wonder how much dey had to drink," shouted Chekov, still "dancing".

"Spock doesn't drink," answered Sulu. "And did you see that dress? She's gotta be wearing some new kind of anti-gravs under there because I sure don't see any bra lines— Holy shit! I think he just slipped her the tongue!"

"He looks so good in that suit that one more drink and I'm going to slip him some tongue!" Chekov threw himself into the middle of a group of bouncing Tellarites.

Sulu threw back his head and laughed and followed.

Spock finally released her lip but still held her. He waited until her lids fluttered open. Her eyes were very dark. He had to clear his throat before he spoke.

"It would be best if I escorted you to your quarters."

"People are watching."

"Then we will need to be convincing."

He brushed his thumb across her lips. She sucked it into her mouth. Her lips were soft and her tongue hot. Spock inhaled deeply through his nose and leaned his forehead against hers.

"It is time to go," he whispered thickly.

He took her hand again and this time they brushed by the Ambassador and out the door.

She stumbled along behind him and thought, "Wow."

End Chapter 3

T’Prahn
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