Jim's Personal Quarters

"Well," Pock said softly. Her fingers rubbed small, gentle circles against his skin where her hand hung around his side. She breathed deeply, inhaling the smell of the morning, of him in particular. "How did you yourself find the quality of your slumber?"

"After the nightmare? Excellently," he said, smiling down at her.

Could they just play hooky and not show up to work, and let Scotty take over the Enterprise for the day? And maybe they could just do nothing but cuddle like this, or he could teach her how to play two people card games like Gin Rummy, Rummy 500 or Cribbage. Or they could dance some more.

Pock smirked against his chest. "I am glad," she said softly.

She leaned up, propping herself up on the arm that rested on Jim's other side, so that her face was hovering just above his. Her eyes glittered with warmth and affection for him, and a small smile played against the corners of her lips.

"We must prepare ourselves for the work day," Pock murmured.

Jim used his good hand to pull her in for a brief kiss before letting her go and sitting up, managing not to hit her in the face. "We should," he said, a sigh escaping his lips with his words.

Didn't mean he wanted to at all, though.

Maybe on their next day off, he could convince her to stay with him for a stay in date.

Pock sat up as well.

"You do not sound enthused at the prospect," she teased, her voice and eyes both glimmering with good-natured humor. She reached up and tightened her pony tail, brushing away a stray strand that had fallen away from the rest in the night. It hung down and framed her face.

Jim reached up and played with the strand that framed her face. He enjoyed the way it flowed around his fingers. "Hmm... Well, when the other prospect is staying here with you... I'd rather stay here with you, kitten," he murmured, pulling her in for a kiss.

Pock draped her arms around his neck, brushing her lips against his. The kiss was soft but insistent, painted with a brush of perfect contradictions just like everything else that pertained to them. They were different and the same - a constant reminder to Pock that things were never as neat and simple as Vulcans liked to believe. They were complicated. They were made up of contradictions and questions and perfect little imperfections. That was the Universe. That was life.

That was Jim.

"Tempting," she purred against his kiss. "I must admit."

Jim's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Some little portion of his mind was still stuck in the thought pattern that everyone he cherished would leave him. His arms squeezed a bit tighter, as she spoke. "It's more than tempting," he murmured between soft sweet kisses.

"Scotty can handle the conn. for the day. He and Sulu need more practice holding the conn.," he said, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around her waist. His now free hand came up and played with that strand of hair.

Pock chuckled into his embrace, loving the feeling of him holding her close. There was an insistence to the way he held her that told her he didn't want to let her go. She imagined it was hard, after the experience of Tarsus IV, to believe that danger was not always just around the corner. Or maybe it was. All she knew was that here, in this room, in that moment, she felt perfectly safe.

"A bit irresponsible of us, don't you think, Captain?" Pock teased, pressing her forehead against his. "What would we do all day with no work to keep us occupied?"

He began to tease that infernal strand of hair with her fingers, and despite herself, she let him.

"Yeah, it'd be irresponsible," he breathed, looking into her eyes, enjoying the feel of her tucked safely away in his arms. "But, haven't you always said I'm a bit irresponsible anyway?" He chuckled. "I'm sure we could come up with something to do..." he murmured, capturing her lips again.

He continued to play with that strand of hair.

He found her hair to be gorgeous, no matter how she wore it.

"You are irresponsible," Pock chuckled into the kiss, chasing his lips with hers, teasing his bottom lip in between hers playfully. When their faces came apart, she looked up at him from underneath thick, dark lashes. Her smirk was self-assured, and her eyes were confident but somehow rather sweet. "I, on the other hand, am not."

She kissed him again.

"So," she purred, "how might I be persuaded to see this through your perspective?"

Jim let her control the kiss, smiling into it. His hands kneaded at her back. He couldn't resist her when she looked at him like that and he eagerly responded into the second kiss.

"Well, bullet point one, we could stay here all day, and do nothing." Though Jim knew that would do absolutely nothing. "Bullet point two, technically, we are owed a few days off that Command can't do anything about. Bullet point three, we could always be working on 'administrative details'."

"Administrative details," Pock said dryly, but with good humor. "Of course that is what you had planned all along, Captain. You are ever the dutiful officer."

She began to play with the hair at the scruff of his neck.

"I suppose if we're doing administrative details," she murmured, her lips teasing his, "I should not impede the completion of our professional duties."

"Aren't I always a dutiful officer, though?" he questioned, a laugh to be heard in his voice.

Jim shuddered in her arms, pulling her closer and kneading her back. He pressed his lips to hers more firmly than the light, teasing kisses she'd been favoring him with. From somewhere in his chest, a growl escaped.

Pock gasped against his lips. The feeling of him kneading her back, kissing her with a ferocity that had been absent before? It was blissful. She eagerly reciprocated the advance, continuing her ministrations against the back of his neck.

He growled, and she made a similar noise, though hers was more breathless. She pulled him closer to her. "Of course," she said.

She deepened the kiss.

Jim let her control the kiss again, shivering again as she played with his hair. He continued to massage the muscles of her back. He shuddered again as Pock mimicked his growl with something more breathy.

Eventually, he had to break it off for lack of air. "So... Are we letting the bridge know that Scotty's in charge while we take care of 'administrative details'?"

Her eyes were dark as she fought to control her breath in the wake of their embrace. "That would be best, I believe," she deadpanned. "Otherwise they may come looking for us, and I believe I am still lacking a certain undergarment."

Pock's eyes gestured to her bra, discarded last night.

The hair hanging down in her face appeared to irritate her, having floated into her peripherals one too many times. She reached up, pulling at the tie that bound her ponytail. The black plastic snapped as she did.

"How inconvenient," she said stoically. Her hair fell down around her shoulders in long, sleepy waves.

Jim stared at her hair as it curled in gentle waves down to just below her chest. All his concentration was now on the fact of how gorgeous she looked with her hair down. He reaching forward, a bit tentatively, and ran a hand through the soft curls. He stared at her for a few moments.

He threaded his hand through her hair and with his free hand reached for the comm. He informed the bridge that he and Pock would be doing administrative details and they were not to disturb them unless the ship was going to blow up, or the Romulans and the Klingons banded together and were invading the Federation.

Pock lifted an eyebrow as he reached for her, running his hands gently through her hair. It was a simple action. Even then, it was something that was not normally done on Vulcan. Only two people in her entire life had ever touched her hair - her caretaker as a child, and her mother. And now, there was a third: Jim.

She thought for a moment about telling him not to, but then changed her mind. There was no reason why he should not. Besides, it felt... acceptable.

He continued to play gently with her hair as he met her eyes. "Is this okay?" he murmured. He knew a few girls who hated having their hair played with because they had sensitive scalps. His other hand came up and rested tenderly on her cheek.

He had a gut feeling that he was one of the few who had ever seen her with her hair down. He wondered why she would let him be one of them.

She nodded tentatively. "Yes," she said, after a moment. She unconsciously leaned into his touch as he lifted his hand to her face. It felt good. "You may continue, Jim." Her voice was soft and sweet, intimate almost.

Her heart was beating nervously in her chest.

Jim smiled softly as his fingers weaved in and out of her hair. It was courser and rougher that human hair, but that was why it felt so good to him. It tickled his palms as he continued to run his fingers through it. "Thank you," he murmured, slightly humbled by this gorgeous creature sitting in front of him.

The way she spoke... God, she was addictive, and Jim was finding himself addicted to her mind, her voice, her face, and the way she tasted.

He would gladly spend the rest of his life staring at her.

If she'd let him, that is.

Pock took the chance to watch him as he wove his fingers through her hair, gently teasing it between his fingers. His eyes glimmered, and a smile graced his face, as though he were a small child bewildered by something in his path. Children were so easily fascinated. So was Jim, apparently.

She murmured softly, "Vulcan females do not normally allow others to view them in this state. It is considered forward. Only two in my lifetime have ever seen my hair unbound."

Jim paused in his movements, listening to her speak. His eyes widened. He was one of two people to see her with her hair down.

Had she intended for him to ever see her with her hair down? She was such a private person... She could have easily never let him see her with her hair down. But really, no on can truly predict when a hair tie is going to snap. He'd learned that from his sister-in-law.

Could her actually letting him to continue to touch her hair indicative of her maybe, possibly wanting their relationship to last? Or would she smarten up and not make the same choices that her counterpart had?

"Oh?" he said, voice as soft as hers. "Really?" He hoped his face showed none of the insecurities he felt.

Pock nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

"Indeed," she said. "When I was a child, my mother used to sit down in my room, in front of the great window that overlooked the deserts outside of ShiKahr, and she would brush my hair for me as I stared out. Sometimes, she would tell me stories while she did so." Pock's voice was light and warm at the memory.

She had loved those moments with her mother, filled with intimacy and love. When she had grown old enough to brush her own hair, they had stopped at her father's request, and she had missed them.