Fic: "Bitch Slaps & Bra Straps," NC-17
Title: Bitch Slaps & Bra Straps
Author: alder_knight
Rating: NC-17, femmeslash.
Wordcount: Roughly 10k.
Summary: The Sexual Shenanigans of Cadet Jane T. Kirk: Cupcake Edition. From the st_xi_kink prompt, "Can I get me some AlwaysaGirl!Cupcake/AlwaysaGirl!Kirk epic barfight-violence-triggered!hate-sex?" It's not quite as hate-sexy as the OP wanted, but it's definitely girl!Kirk/girl!Cupcake, fucking and fighting, not in that order. Also features (canonically-gendered) Uhura, Gaila, and Bones!
Disclaimer: I neither own, nor profit from, any characters or situations related to Star Trek. (It blows.)
Warnings: Brief shades of dubcon, and blatant homophobia/hate speech during one of the fistfights - both are quickly resolved.
Beta'd by ennyousai and redcirce, both internet rockstars and fucking fantastic editors. They are my grammar-clocking, canon-rocking dream team.
Also, coasterchild made me ART! HOLY GODS OF SPACE. The two pictures are inserted in the applicable spots in the fic. I DEFY YOU TO CONTAIN YOUR SQUEE AT HER GIRL!KIRK/GAILA PIC, I'M JUST SAYING.
Okay, on with the show!
Jane Kirk can only kill so many evenings drinking the same shitty, cheap booze and listening to the same soulless techno before the monotony of bar life in East Bumfuck, Iowa finally destroys her will to live. She would love to just find something else to do, except that there isn't anything else. Even her usual pastime of popping wheelies back and forth across the quarry ledge is now verboten - last time she tried, the cops gave her serious shit for it. Kirk squints as she takes a long pull on her drink. At least the taste isn't so bad, after a couple.
On the up side, it seems to be bar night for the new Starfleet recruits, which means the place is crowded with people closer to Kirk's age than the usual clientèle. She scans the room, itching for a fight or a fuck, or maybe both.
When the long-haired girl steps up to the bar a couple stools down and starts rattling off a drink order as long as her arm, Kirk frowns and looks over. There is no way that girl can drink that much booze by herself. Hot girl, though. Maybe tonight has potential after all. Kirk clears her throat and leans over the bar.
"That's a lot of drinks for one woman."
The long-haired girl glares hard before turning back to the bartender to finish placing her order. "And a shot of tequila, straight up."
Undaunted, Kirk tries again.
"Make that two - her shot's on me."
"Her shot's on her - thanks, but no thanks," says the girl.
Kirk contemplates abandoning her efforts and trying for someone who looks a little more open to queer advances, but the girl's got really nice legs and Kirk's always loved a challenge.
A last name - Uhura - is all she can wheedle out of the girl, so Just Uhura it is. Kirk swings off her bar seat, a little unsteady, and slides up beside her.
"So, you're a cadet, you're studying - what's your focus?"
Just Uhura narrows her eyes. "Xenolinguistics. You have no idea know what that means."
Oh, really? "Study of alien languages. Morphology, phonology, syntax. Means you've got a talented tongue." Kirk resists the urge to V her fingers in front of her mouth, but she does wink and flick the tip of her tongue a few times, and garners a smirk and raised eyebrow for her efforts. Maybe this chick is curious. Could be good for a fun night.
Kirk is surprised when the tall, heavyset brunette leans over Just-Uhura's shoulder. "This townie isn't bothering you, right?"
Kirk blinks. Townie? Really? Apparently bigotry is something Starfleet doesn't address until after orientation. Kirk takes another drink from her almost-empty glass as Just Uhura laughs, "Oh, beyond belief. But it's nothing I can't handle."
Kirk, feeling reckless, quips, "You could handle me. That's an invitation," eying Uhura conspiratorially.
"Hey," says the tall girl, "mind your fucking manners."
"Relax, cupcake, it was a joke." Kirk's too drunk for this catty bullshit and is about to walk away and look for more responsive prey when the girl grabs her by the shoulder and things start to get interesting.
"Listen up, bitch!" she growls.
Kirk raises an eyebrow.
"Maybe you can't count," hisses Cupcake, pointing to the three jockish male cadets standing with arms folded behind her, "but there are four of us, and one of you!"
Oh, yes, this is perfect. Kirk leans in, dangerously close, and says in a low voice, "So round up some more of your space cadet lackeys and it'll be an even fight." She pats Cupcake on the cheek, condescending as possible, shoots her a kissy-faced wink, and turns back to the bar.
It doesn't take long. A hand curls around her bicep and Kirk turns, only to end up with a faceful of Cupcake's swinging fist. Kirk reels, blinking with the sting of it, and then her face lights up with a grin like a fiend. Finally.
She launches herself at the first dude who comes up to pull her away, one tight fist hitting the side of his face, a dusty engineer boot connecting with his shin, and is about to level him with a knee to the gut when one of his friends yanks her off balance and she stumbles back.
She hasn't fought this many people at once in a long time, and never this drunk, but she's in it to win it now, and what the hell, it breaks up the monotony. The dude she punched first is holding his nose - looks like it's bleeding, from the corner of her vision, but she's not focusing on him, she's focusing on the grabbing hands coming to stop her, hold her still. Cupcake is shouting insults and trying to cut back in, but Kirk wants a piece of these Starfleet meatheads first.
She ducks one's swinging arms - what's he trying to do, hug her? - and drives an elbow into his solar plexus. As he doubles forward, she clips him in the forehead with a rising stroke from the same elbow, and shoots a foot out sideways at his buddy. She's miscalculated, though, and misses as he sidesteps. Completely off balance, she overcompensates and stumbles. She grabs a bottle off the table to wale him in the head, but the fucker dances around behind her and yanks her up, wrenching her arms tight behind her back - apparently the asshole isn't willing to punch a girl, even one with shaggy hair and clothes like a greaser, but he'll hold her still while his fucking alpha-female ringleader takes potshots at her. Kirk jerks a heel upward, trying for a jab to the nuts, but the guy's too tall. Cupcake's eyes are furious, but she starts grinning as she rounds on Kirk and nails her with a punch to the stomach.
Somewhere, distantly, Kirk can hear Just Uhura shouting, trying to break up the fight. Nice girl. Probably would have screamed half a dozen different languages in bed. Pity. Kirk dry-heaves, tries to ram the back of her skull into soft tissue on the jackoff holding her arms, gets a fucking backhand bitchslap in the face for her trouble. Punches follow - she turns her head but gets cracked in the nose, the jaw. She spits blood and sways on her feet. She's not down, not yet, but her vision's starting to go in and out. Cupcake grabs her by the collar of her grimy white t-shirt and winds back to knock her lights out, when a sudden, piercing whistle splits the noise in the room. The cadets drop her, and she slumps to the floor, bleeding, probably drooling, only half-aware of the red-clad recruits hurrying out of the room. She wheezes. Blood comes up. Actually, blood seems to be coming out of her nose, too, and possibly also her knuckles. The room spins. A serious-looking gentleman in a gray Starfleet uniform kneels in front of her.
"You all right, kid?" he asks kindly.
"You can whistle really loud," she manages, before her eyes roll closed and she's out.
At some point, Kirk comes to, and the bar's almost empty but there's still a man behind the counter, so she wrenches herself to her feet, wipes her bloody nose gingerly on a handful of cheap cocktail napkins, and orders a Bloody Mary, extra spicy, figuring she could probably use some vegetables. It's hard to distinguish what pounding in her head is from the fight and what's just the headache of a hangover, but she hasn't been out that long and, honestly, is probably still more than a little drunk. Kirk tips back her drink and turns to face the room, where she sees the older man who broke up the fight sitting at a table. He's alone, watching her. The Tabasco has a nice kick, and Kirk sniffs and blows her nose, which fucks up the clotting and starts it bleeding again. Unperturbed, she wads up some paper napkin, sticks it in to stop the bleeding, and pulls out the chair across from The Whistler.
He introduces himself as Captain Christopher Pike, and then starts in on a fucking recruiting spiel. Kirk is nonplussed, and, before long, a little annoyed.
"You guys must be way down on your recruiting quota for the month, man..." Pike cuts her off.
"If you've got half the potential your father had, Jane, Starfleet could use you." Then he starts explaining what the Federation is, what it does, why it's important, like she's some kind of backwoods ignoramus, and Kirk's had enough.
"We done?" she asks, silencing the man.
He watches her for a few moments, tosses some closing remarks her way, and finally leaves. Kirk sets her empty cup on the table, settles her tab, and shuffles out into the vast Iowa flatness to collapse on her back in a nearby cornfield, looking up into the streaky pre-dawn sky and thinking hard about life and what the fuck she's doing with hers. She dozes for a couple hours. When the rising sun wakes her, she rides over to the construction yard to look up at the leviathan skeleton of what will become Starfleet's new flagship. It's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, and it's the piece that finally steels Kirk's resolve.
When the shuttle for new recruits takes off at 0800 hours the next morning, Kirk's on it. So is Just Uhura, who grants her an eye-roll and a smile of recognition.
So's Cupcake.
Starfleet Academy, though a little more uptight with regulations than Kirk might prefer, turns out to be a good fit. She's assigned to an open double and her roommate is possibly the most boring, studious, joy-killing individual Kirk's ever met, so she spends most of her nonacademic time haunting the single dorm room next door, home to one Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy. She's the one who gives him the nickname, and he bitches about it at first, but Kirk persists, and eventually he capitulates. Bones is significantly older than Kirk, gruff and cynical, which Kirk finds a delightful contrast to the saccharine attitudes of most wide-eyed INTERGALACTIC PEACE AND LOVE zealots in the Academy's underclasses. Plus, Bones doesn't hit on her, which is refreshing if puzzling. Privately, Kirk suspects he may just not be into girls.
Bones's toolbox of First Aid paraphernalia and bureau drawer of impeccably-aged booze are added perks.
When she's not bitching and drinking with Bones or hitting the books, Kirk weaves between Xenolinguistics Club, flight sims, and extracurricular advanced combat training in the fitness center. Any spare bits of free time, she cruises. The Academy's got strict policies on booze and fighting, but there’s no rule against hooking up between cadets, and Kirk does like to indulge her old vices when she gets the rare chance. The academic schedule is rigorous, and sometimes a good roll in the sheets (or stacks, or storage unit) helps shake off the tension.
So it's no real surprise when Kirk finds herself stripped down to her briefs and sports bra one day after chatting up the unbelievably sexy Orion girl in the computer lab - to be honest, her initial intentions were just to charm some administrative passwords out of the girl, but goddamn if the bombshell redhead didn't give as good as she got. There was tension, there were sparks, there was a three-hour window when the girl's roommate would be out in the long range sensor lab - all signs pointed to yes. By now, Kirk's got the girl - Gaila - down to her panties and bra, squirming happily underneath her, and would be enjoying the view if she weren't occupied with putting her mouth all over Gaila's neck, ear, chin, collarbone. She kisses a path down her sternum, across the soft skin of her stomach, to the top of the elastic on her panties, and lifts her head enough to shoot Gaila a wicked look. She gets a pleased sounding "Mmmmmm" for her troubles, which she takes as a pretty good response.
Kirk thinks about taking off Gaila's bra, but it's a really sexy bra and there'll be plenty of time for that later. For now, she slides up, retracing her path of kisses, and runs her tongue along the edge of the lace cupping one green breast. Gaila gasps, pleasantly surprised. "Ah, keep doing that!" Kirk doesn't need to be told twice - she flicks her tongue along the edge again - flick, flick - and pulls the lace cup away so Gaila's breast is exposed, still supported by her underwire. Kirk's mouth dances around the taut skin - it is a glorious breast, heavy and full - lapping and kissing and nipping before she flicks her tongue against the nipple and it goes firm. "Ahh," gasps Gaila, her hands in Kirk's hair, scratching the scalp deliciously, "mmm." Kirk closes her lips around it and gives some suction, gentle and then harder. She's got one hand below her shoulder, supporting her, both knees straddling Gaila's thighs, and a free hand that's stroking Gaila's hip right now. She grazes those fingers across the girl's abdomen, dragging her nails, and slides featherlight fingertips across the top of Gaila's panties, then just under the edge. Kirk's mouth pulls back from Gaila's breast for a moment in order to kiss the hollow of her throat and run a tongue up the side of her neck, and then resumes its post, tongue rubbing to counterpoint the suction of her lips.
Gaila exhales loudly. She's clearly a very vocal girl in bed, a quality Kirk finds delightful.
"Is this okay?" Kirk breathes, fingers sliding past the elastic to brush against the top of Gaila's bush. It gives her a sudden jolt of excitement when she realizes she's not just fucking a ridiculously hot green girl, she's fucking a ridiculously hot Orion, a different species entirely. The thought is getting her hotter already.
"Yessssss," purrs Gaila, and Kirk slides her hand below to explore brave new frontiers, using her teeth to pull back the elastic lace covering Gaila's other breast and let her lips roam there. Gaila's still rubbing her hair, tugging it, murmuring a stream of encouraging yeses, when suddenly her hands stop and she starts saying, "No, stop, nononono," and trying to sit up. Concerned and confused, Kirk sits back on her heels, asking, "Baby, what's-" but before she finishes her sentence, she hears the electric sound of the door unlocking and Gaila's trying to shove her onto the floor.
"Shhh, it's my roommate! Quick, get under the bed," Gaila whispers urgently. When Kirk tries to protest, she shushes her - "No, under the bed! She can't see you here!"
"Why not?" asks Kirk, increasingly annoyed at being interrupted. "I thought you said she was gone for the night!"
"Well, obviously she isn't! And I promised her I'd stop bringing hookups back to the room, that's why not," the Orion hisses. "You've got to hide!"
Kirk is indignant. "Hang on, how often do you-" she starts to ask, but Gaila's shooing her below so she lies flat on the floor, out of breath and still horny, and hopes Roommate is just popping in for a forgotten PADD or something on her way back out. To be honest, Kirk couldn't care less how long this girl's track record is - right now, she just wants to finish what they've started.
The door swishes open and Kirk hears bootsteps on the floor. "Hey!" Gaila chirps brightly from the bed, greeting her returning roommate. The two begin chatting and Kirk rolls onto her side to see if she can get a visual on this Roommate, because the voice sounds uncannily familiar. To her utter disbelief, Gaila's roommate is none other than Just Uhura.
Kirk watches in fascination, only half-listening to their conversation about the Klingon distress signal Just Uhura picked up in the lab. Right now Kirk's attention is diverted to the much more pressing issue of the girl across the room removing her boots, then removing her uniform turtleneck, and then removing her skirt. Enthralled, Kirk only distantly registers Gaila asking, "So... you're not going back to the lab tonight?" with just a hint too much interest in her voice. Just Uhura stops short, turns around, giving Kirk a full-frontal view of her nice-girls-don't white bra and underwear; it's all Kirk can do to stay still.
All good things must end, however, and Uhura’s clearly caught on, so Kirk sighs and stands up.
“YOU.” Uhura is not amused. Kirk decides that the correct course of action right now is to make an expedient exit, even if part of her thinks Starfleet's mission to promote inter-species cooperation would be better served by attempting to initiate three-way lesbian diplomacy. She senses that Just Uhura is not currently at her most receptive.
"Big day tomorrow," Kirk grins, gathering her clothes. Just Uhura throws her jacket at her.
"You're gonna fail," she hisses, referring to the simulation test Kirk's taking for the third time in the morning. Privately, Kirk doesn't agree, but she tosses a casual, "See you around, Gaila," over her shoulder and allows Just Uhura to shepherd her out of the room. Uhura still won't tell her her first name. Instead, she very clearly tells Kirk, "Get out."
"You know," Kirk attempts, in a last-ditch reconciliation effort, "I think the fact that you picked up a transmission is very inter-"
The door slides shut in her face and Kirk comes to the realization that she is locked out in the hall, stripped down to her underwear and sports bra, still wet as a sponge and probably smelling faintly of the fantastic sex she was about to have. Outstanding.
At least she has her clothes, this time - it makes the walk of shame back to her hall a little less awkward.
Kirk turns her back on the door with the intention of setting her things down and stepping into her uniform pants, but noise from down the hall makes her pause. She peers down the corridor. The face she picks out from the trio rounding the corner takes a second to register, but when it does, it's all Kirk can do to not break down laughing at the absurdity of it all - who should it be, but Cupcake.
It's too late now to get her clothes on without being seen struggling, and the rest of the hallway's too long for her to zip around the corner unnoticed - she'll be damned if she's going to let these smug assholes see her sweat, so Kirk tucks her bundle more neatly under her arm, squares her shoulders, and strides down the hallway in the direction of the approaching cadets, humming cheerfully.
As they get closer, the expressions on the bastards' faces are fucking priceless, but Kirk manages to hold it together and refrain from cracking a smile. All three stop and stare as she approaches, shock gradually fading to awkward uncertainty. "At ease, gentlemen," she salutes, stepping around their group and progressing down the hallway. Apparently that breaks the reverie, because one of the dudes grabs her arm.
"Pretty sure that's not regulation," he says, leering at her expanses of bare skin. Kirk turns halfway around and clears her throat.
"Starfleet Academy dress code protocol 31.07 prohibits cadets on campus from appearing out of uniform, except in the privacy of the students' living quarters, which is where I'm headed. You're impeding my attempt to follow official policy. Pretty sure that's against regulation." She removes the guy's hand and starts to walk away again.
He calls out after her, pissed that she's dismissing him, but is stopped when Cupcake spits bitterly, "Don't waste your breath on that fucking dyke."
This time, when Kirk stops, she spins all the way around and slowly walks closer to the other cadets. "What did you say?" she asks in a low voice.
A strange mix of emotions is playing across Cupcake's face, masked by her bravado, but Kirk can't decipher it - she can tell, however, that one of those emotions is fear. "I said you're a fucking dyke," the girl repeats, triumphant. Kirk narrows her eyes, cocks her head, and then leans back and nods.
"Well, if that's all," she says reasonably, flashing a broad grin, "I'll just be getting back to my dorm room to enjoy my immense stash of lesbian porn. G'night!"
Cupcake looks dumbfounded and horrified. Her two male companions are apparently idiots, because Kirk's statement seems to have stopped their brains working. They're whispering to one another in awe-struck disbelief. Kirk rolls her eyes. "Beat it, boys," she commands, and they turn, still muttering, to head down the hall in the direction Kirk came from, leaving Cupcake rooted to the spot. As their excited whispers fade out down the corridor, Kirk raises an eyebrow at Cupcake.
"What the hell's your problem, anyway?" she asks, genuinely curious under her irritation. "Showing off in front of the pack? Or what, did you want to call up another buddy so the four of you could challenge me to a rematch?"
Cupcake's body language has shifted dramatically. Her hands are balled in fists by her sides, knuckles pale. She is staring at the floor as though her heat-vision will burn a hole through it at any moment. For a long time, she says nothing. Kirk rolls her eyes and shifts her armload of clothes to walk away, but hears Cupcake mutter something under her breath.
"Come again?" Kirk asks. Cupcake looks her in the eye.
"It's disgusting," she whispers, "two girls doing... that, what you do. Together. It's wrong and... you're disgusting."
Kirk is blown away. "Where the hell did you come from, you ignorant fuck? I thought homophobia died around the time of the Eugenics War, good lord."
Kirk sees the backhand coming for her a mile away and doesn't even drop her clothes when she bobs backwards to dodge it. Cupcake doesn't swing again, resuming her death glare at the floor. Unfazed, Kirk continues. "Seriously, that's what you've got against me? Out of all the myriad reasons you could choose to hate me, its because I fuck girls? How the hell did you get into the Academy, believing that xenophobic bullshit? Is this something you picked up on your own, or did your shit-for-brains mommy and daddy spoon-feed it to you?"
Kirk does drop her clothes this time, as Cupcake cries out and lunges for her, hands grabbing. "Oh, look out!" Kirk warns. "Careful you don't catch the gay!" Cupcake flinches almost imperceptibly, but it's long enough for Kirk to strike with the ridge of her hand to the muscle in the bigger girl's shoulder. Cupcake makes a noise of pain; apparently Kirk's succeeded in hitting the ulnar nerve, numbing the whole arm. She sends a jab right below Cupcake's ribcage, and it strikes home, but she's not paying enough attention to Cupcake's good hand, and gets socked in the nose. Damn, but that girl has an arm.
Fed up, Kirk weaves out of range, ducks under Cupcake's next swing, and levels a roundhouse punch that connects with Cupcake right under the jaw and knocks her back against the wall where she curls sideways, covering her face. Kirk swoops in, turns Cupcake to face the wall, grabs both her wrists, and pins her in a headlock.
"Bitch," she mutters, seeing stars from the hit to her nose. Cupcake spits on the floor, aiming for Kirk's bare feet. Kirk wrinkles her nose and says, "You're not doing much to improve my opinion of you, you know."
"What the fuck do I care what you think of me?" sneers Cupcake. Just to fuck with her, Kirk brushes a finger along the cadet's neck gently as she says, "It's not true, you know. I make exceptions for boys from time to time. I just prefer hard, sweaty lesbian sex to its hetero counterpart, usually."
Cupcake shudders. Kirk gets an idea.
"So," says Kirk, "I'm just trying to figure you out. You hate dykes, boo, disgusting. Right? So you're totally into dudes, then, right? You must love the cock."
Cupcake makes a subtle, involuntary gagging noise, and Kirk almost starts laughing and ruins everything. She keeps it together.
"Mmm, cock, all cock, all the time. Except, you've got me wondering. I've never seen you without a pack of guys when you walk around. The fact that they're always there... and, more importantly, that they all seem to respect you... would imply, to me, that you're not fucking any of them."
Cupcake scowls. There's a hint of panic behind it.
"Am I wrong? Tell me if I'm wrong."
Cupcake says nothing. Kirk tightens her headlock. "Answer me."
"You're not wrong," mumbles Cupcake, face pressed into the wall.
"Fascinating," says Kirk. "Do they just not do it for you? Do you need a different sort of boy to give you what you want? Oh, I'm sorry, I'm overlooking the possibility that maybe you're just not interested in sex at all. But for one so uninterested, you certainly sound like you spend a lot of time thinking about what other people do in bed... all the terrible, wrong, immoral things they do... don't you?"
Cupcake thrashes slightly, but Kirk keeps her hold. The girl whimpers. Kirk doesn't press it. She leans in closer, very close to Cupcake's ear. Her next words are barely a whisper.
"It gets you off, doesn't it?"
And now Kirk gets a surprise, because Cupcake actually cries out, "No!" and sobs into the wall. It wasn't Kirk's intention to inflict psychological distress, though now she thinks of it, she can't pinpoint what her intention was.
"Hey," she says, "hey. Stay with me here." Her triumph is tempered by the dirty feeling of exploiting an opponent's weakness - effective tactic, but not very sportsmanlike. She does not, however, release the headlock - she feels bad, but she's not stupid.
"So that's it, then," Kirk mutters, leaning close, bare torso pressing into Cupcake's back. "You're totally into girls and you just don't want to admit it, am I right?"
"Fuck you," spits Cupcake, and Kirk can feel hot tears running off the other girl's chin onto her bicep. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Kirk sighs. "Oh, don't I?" She runs her tongue up the side of Cupcake's neck, and the cadet lets loose a shocked noise between a gasp and a moan. Kirk raises her eyebrows.
"Well, I'm certainly not going to try anything with you if you don't want it," she says, "but I'm pretty sure you do."
Cupcake recoils. "Don't say that; I'm not like that. I'm not... one of you. It's bad, it's dirty, it's wrong. It's disgusting. No." She sounds like she's trying to reassure herself.
"Who told you that, anyway?" asks Kirk. "Doesn't hurt anybody, does it? Doesn't cause any harm in the world. Child abuse, that's bad-dirty-wrong. Lesbian sex is awesome." She leans around to look closer at Cupcake's face, and sees that the girl's eyes are wet with tears and tightly shut. "Hey," she says, "look at me." The other cadet's eyes open slowly.
"How about a wager?" she says, because she gets the sense that this girl likes a challenge as much as she does, and because she's feeling humanitarian, and because she'd really like to get some tonight and the beast of a cadet she's got in the chokehold has the potential to be a fantastic lay. "You think it's wrong, I get that, but I also get that you're curious. Allow me to try to convince you."
"What the hell?" asks Cupcake sniffily, face still pressed to the wall. "No, what the fuck kind of wager is that?"
"Let me finish," says Kirk. "My half of the bargain is that I do my damnedest to blow your fucking mind. I don't know where this bullshit mindset of yours originated, but I'm prepared to show you the light. If I'm wrong, if you're turned off and horrified and still certain that The Gay is a cesspool of moral depravity, then you win, I leave you the fuck alone, and you can blame the nightmare entirely on my bad influence - it's no moral stain on your soul or whatever if you don't enjoy it, right? Name your prize, if that's not good enough for you. But if I'm right, if I can prove to you that I know what you want and how to give it to you, well, you get the hottest night of your life with the hottest cadet in the Academy, and the only thanks I ask is that you apologize to me in front of your cronies. I need their respect, damn it - they might be my crew someday."
Cupcake blinks at Kirk, disbelieving. She considers for a moment. "You're out of your fucking mind."
"So we have a deal, then?"
"Yeah, fine, we have a deal. Let go of my fucking neck."
Kirk obliges.
The hallway appears to be deserted. Cupcake rubs her neck, regarding Kirk with suspicion like a cornered stray. Kirk rolls her eyes.
"For crying out loud, I'm not going to bite you. Okay, actually, I can't promise that, but would it kill you to show some enthusiasm? What's your name, anyway?"
The cadet looks away. "I'd rather not say, just now."
Kirk's 0 for 2 on names tonight. "Cupcake it is, then. What time is it?"
Cupcake checks. "21:50."
Shit. "Curfew's in ten minutes. Alright, how are we going to swing this? My roommate will cover for me if I'm not there at check-in - it's not really her nature to bend the rules like that, but they give her the third degree if she lets on that I'm not there, so she's gotten used to it. What about you?"
"I'm in a triple... but I've covered for each of them before, so my roommates should be able to cover me tonight."
"Excellent," says Kirk. She catches Cupcake staring at the floor again. "Hey. Hey, lighten up. Your system is about to hit endorphin overload. Exciting, right?" She closes the distance between them to lean Cupcake into the wall, slide one hand to her waist and the other into her hair, and surprise the cadet with an open-mouthed kiss.
Cupcake tightens up for a moment before sighing into it and reciprocating... but then her eyes open and she pulls away abruptly, shoving Kirk hard. "Not here!" she hisses.
Kirk, caught off guard, doesn't tuck her chin for impact, and smacks her head hard on the opposite corridor wall. "Ow! Bitch!" she spits in return, bringing a hand up to the back of her head. It's throbbing already. "Okay, okay, nothing in public! Even though there's nobody here, you goddamn lunatic." Kirk winces and starts to walk away.
"Where are you going?" asks Cupcake, sounding slightly panicked.
"Well, we obviously can't stay here, can we? I don't know how many knocks of that magnitude I can withstand."
Cupcake has the decency to look guilty.
"Anyway," continues Kirk, "we can't go to my room - roommate's even more uptight than you are, which, I assure you, is impressive. Can't go to your room, I take it, as it's a triple and you'd prefer to keep this under wraps, yes?" Cupcake nods. "Yes. So where does that leave us? The grounds would be okay if it were earlier or later, but they'll be doing their curfew sweep around now and we've got no place to lay low in the meantime. The sim labs are off limits - I've had some fun in them before, trust me, but if you get caught they really roast you for it - and I'm pretty sure there's a class in the observatory tonight, so we can't go up there. Great timing, lunar eclipse." Kirk sighs. She looks at Cupcake. Cupcake's following her, but her expression is disbelieving.
"You've seriously hooked up in all those places?" she asks, somewhere between impressed and horrified.
"I don't want to bore you with the full accounts of my exploits, but yes, those are some of my more successful tryst locations. I mean, take the walk-in refrigerators behind the mess kitchen - fairly secure and remote, right, but there are places on your person you just do not want frostbitten, catch my drift?"
Cupcake nods, silent.
"So there's our predicament. The usual spots are not terribly useful to us tonight, and the less-usual spots are less-usual for very good reasons." She pauses in the stairwell to face Cupcake. "Thoughts?"
Cupcake ponders. "Too bad neither of us has the seniority for a single... or a private office."
"Yeah, I'm totally jealous of the guy who lives next door to me, Bones - he's a med student, but really he's already a doctor, used to have his own private practice, so he's just here for the Starfleet portion of his training. Has his own office, a single... doesn't have to be around for check-ins so he stays out in lab or his office practically every night he doesn't have class in the morning. Hell, lucky bastard's probably enjoying a drink in his office right now, grading papers for the class he TAs and listening to country-western on his PADD. Probably won't even get home until after midnight. You can see why I'd envy that." Kirk starts winding up the steps, and stops.
"Wait a minute."
Kirk can hear the RAs starting check-in down at the other end of the hall as she blurs through her own room to drop her uniform, strip the sheets off her bed, and give explicit instructions to her roommate who's - surprise - studying at her desk. Then it's back out into the hall, and she stops herself from grabbing Cupcake's hand to pull her up to Bones's door while she punches in the key code and waits for the sliding whoosh.
Cupcake's looking agitated but Kirk's feeling pretty calm, considering she's standing in her underwear in the middle of the hall during check-in, two strikes already on her judicial record from breaking curfew and arguing with her Diplomacy professor (the irony does not escape her). The door beeps at her. She presses the keypad again, more carefully, and the door obliges by sliding open. Kirk slips inside, and Cupcake follows.
"Computer," says Kirk, "standard lock sequence, manual override code 5-6-2-6-6-2."
"Acknowledged. Locking mechanism engaged." There's a digital chirp, and they're secured.
Kirk pushes the bedding off Bones's bed and throws her own sheets over the mattress - she's got her shortcomings, but never let it be said that she isn't considerate of her friends' things. She looks at Cupcake. The girl's clearly nervous, but she's trying to look defiant. The room's building up tension like a static charge. Kirk decides that the best thing for her might be to tackle the cadet and fuck her senseless, but the best thing for Cupcake is probably to take it slowly. Start with vanilla; there'll be time for rocky road later. Kirk closes the distance between them.
"Your jacket's crooked. Let me get that for you." She slips the hook-and-eye closures at Cupcake's collar, and then places a flat palm on the cadet's pounding chest to hold the fabric while she eases the zipper open, parting red over black. Cupcake is very still as Kirk slides the jacket off her shoulders so she is standing in her uniform boots, pants, and black undershirt. Kirk wraps a hand around one of Cupcake's biceps, and whistles.
"No wonder I felt like I'd been hit by a train. I was."
Kirk goes to pull off Cupcake's shirt, too, but the cadet's hesitant. "I don't... want to. I don't want to take that off yet."
Yet. Well, alright. "How about the pants, then? And you've got to take the boots off, Bones hates when people wear shoes in his room."
"How does he feel about strangers in his bed when he's not around?" Cupcake asks, kneeling to unlace.
"Well, we're going to find out, aren't we?" says Kirk. She watches Cupcake pry off her boots, and then, slowly, nervously, self-consciously unfasten and slide down her uniform trousers. She stands awkwardly, holding them in front of her to block the view of her legs.
"Well, that's a little more even, isn't it?" Kirk grins, adjusting her own bra strap. She takes Cupcake's pants and, not looking, flings them over her shoulder. "Cute underwear."
Cupcake blushes deep red, and Kirk puts a hand behind her head and kisses her.
Cupcake doesn't reciprocate, but she doesn't pull away. Kirk slides her hand to the back of the girl's neck as she slips her tongue through the parted lips, hitting teeth. She takes her by the chin as she licks an earlobe, nips at her jaw and then kisses her again. Cupcake keeps pretty quiet - well-conditioned, Kirk supposes - but her quick little exhalations are sufficient positive feedback.
Kirk places hands at Cupcake's waist and pulls their torsos tangent. Thick is the term that comes to mind - solid thighs, round ass, tight abs, thick waist. The Academy favors athletic candidates, for practical reasons, and thus much of the female student body is made up of willowy female student bodies. Cupcake seems to be an exception, tall and heavy-set and strong as hell, hopefully the same force to be reckoned with in bed as in a barfight. Not coincidentally, Kirk's finding her maddeningly hot. Her right hand works its way up under the back of Cupcake's black tee while the left strokes her neck, and slowly, little by little, Kirk backs her towards the edge of Bones's bed.
Cupcake's warming up now, if her jump in enthusiasm is any indication, but while her mouth seems to understand what to do, her hands hover uncertainly, awkwardly, out beside her. As the backs of her knees hit the mattress and she drops sitting to the bare sheets, she takes hold of Kirk's arms just above the elbows to pull her down, too. Kirk grins at the encouragement, and eases Cupcake horizontal until she can climb over her, mind's eye flashing to déjà vu images of Gaila, an hour ago.
"How we feeling?" breathes Kirk, lips hovering close to Cupcake's ear. The girl shivers and her eyes slowly open to focus on Kirk's.
"Good," she whispers, and then seems to remember herself. "I... I mean-"
"Shh," says Kirk. "'Good' is good. Let's go for 'better.' We still attached to this shirt?"
Cupcake hesitates and shakes her head. She raises her hips and then shoulders as Kirk guides the black undershirt over and off.
"Ah. See? Better!" says Kirk. Cupcake looks unconvinced, so Kirk licks along her clavicle, one hand stroking down newly-exposed ribcage, brushing the outer elastic of her bra.
In a matter of minutes, the bra's off completely, flung somewhere they'll figure out later. Cupcake is fully engaged in the situation by this point - Kirk's meticulous slowness has got her sensitive to the faintest touches of fingers or lips. She doesn't seem to have completely lost her self-consciousness, though, and Kirk notes that she looks a little shy. Fair's fair - Kirk sits back on her heels to pull off her own sports bra. She realizes as she tosses it away that it smells of sweat from combat training, so she's better off without it anyway. She looks down at the flushed cadet laid out on the bed and absently flicks out her tongue to wet her lips.
"Can I take off your panties?" she asks.
Cupcake stares, but Kirk realizes the gaze is directed at her chest, not her face. She rolls her eyes. It goes unnoticed.
"You know what, hold that thought. I have a better idea."
Kirk pulls the top sheet up and all but lies on top of Cupcake, breasts brushing against the other girl's chest as she tucks the fabric loosely around them both. She slides down Cupcake's body, disappearing below the cotton folds, hands grazing along Cupcake's thighs, and the girl's whole body jerks. Well, damn.
Kirk traces her nails along calves, feet, inner thighs, sometimes skimming up to graze hips and ribs, but always avoiding contact with the other girl's sex. She'll get there - oh, she'll get there - but she wants Cupcake good and ready first.
Kirk admires the girl's restraint, but eventually Cupcake's frustration wins out. She stutters when Kirk approaches, and then does not touch, the cleft between her legs. Hidden below the sheet, Kirk can smell without feeling that the girl's wet with apprehension, and each time her hands come close, Cupcake raises her hips off the bed, straining towards that elusive touch. Kirk's patience is about up anyway, so she obliges by scooting back up and out from under the sheet to kiss Cupcake slowly on the mouth - the girl's reply is hungry, unrestrained - and slips a hand down, under the band of Cupcake's panties, to gently stroke the soft folds of her vulva.
Cupcake breaks off the kiss with a gasp, eyes wide, and Kirk likes the way she foresees the evening going if this is how Cupcake reacts when she's barely touching. She allows her hand to work more, still just grazing, slick in Cupcake's pulsing heat, eliciting small, choked noises and blind clutches of sheets. Kirk pulls back her wet fingers and presses them lightly to the girl's clit, and suddenly it's like a whole new world has opened for Cupcake, because she curses and takes Kirk's face between both her damp palms, pressing their lips together desperately. Kirk raises an eyebrow, and her hand starts tapping a feather-light Morse code, generating squeaks and ahhs and caught breaths between hot, messy kisses. She adjusts her hand to rub with her thumb, and crooks two fingers up inside the tight opening of Cupcake's cunt.
Cupcake feels about as un-broken-in as Kirk would've guessed, so she doesn't try for more than that, but works those two digits smoothly, slickly, pumping them gently - but not too gently - as Cupcake pants in disbelief, kissing whatever she can reach, whenever Kirk leans close enough.
She whines softly in protest when Kirk moves her body lower again, hand still working, but that whine becomes a long, shuddery moan when Kirk grins up at her predatorily and starts licking the faint salty sheen of sweat from one of her breasts.
So Kirk's got this girl going like business now, breathing hard and making little keening whimpers that go straight to Kirk's cunt (which is doing pretty well, too, right now, thank you very much), and decides to cut to the chase. She manages to scoot her knees forward so both hands can go down to work Cupcake's vag, while her lips and tongue go to town on the girl's fantastic tits. She's starting to feel the strain of fatigue in one soaked hand, angled awkwardly with the panties in the way, when Cupcake's breathing starts hitching and she looks around the room wildly.
"Ohhhhhhhh..." she whispers, "oh, oh god..."
Kirk raises her head and regards Cupcake's face, furrowed with tension. "Shhh, shh, that's good, girl, that's good. You're gonna come for me, baby girl, and you're gonna come hard. Breathe deep, baby, just let it happen."
Cupcake cries out in sensitivity and frustration. Kirk doesn't change her speed, but applies a little more pressure with the hand on Cupcake's clit. "Come on, girl," Kirk repeats, "that's it, breathe," and she takes one of Cupcake's nipples into her mouth and sucks.
The dam breaks and Cupcake's careening over it, gasping like a caught fish, back arching off the bed as she makes choked sobbing noises and shudders over and over. Kirk stills her hands, applying pressure but not movement, and lets the girl ride it out and catch her breath before cracking her knuckles, crawling back up with a raised brow and a smirk, and murmuring, "Now let's get you out of these wet panties before you catch cold."
Kirk's as good as her word, and underwear and sheets all end up discarded, thrown over the edge of the bed and forgotten, while the two of them grasp and slide and fuck on the mattress, naked and panting. Cupcake's falling into the "spaghetti-girl" archetype Kirk's grown to recognize - only straight until you get her wet - and proves impressively game to Kirk's various suggestions. When Kirk unwraps a bundle from her earlier dash into her room and extracts an apparatus of straps and rings, Cupcake looks a little intimidated but selects one of the three colored-silicone implements that accompany it, and sprawls on her back with her waist at the edge of the bed so Kirk can fuck her, deep, gripping her hips with each firm thrust. Kirk's prediction holds most fortuitous truth - Cupcake needs some warming up, but once she's primed, she can really take it. Kirk's never been so thrilled by the random kismet of a stranger punching her in the face.
Her hands wrap under Cupcake's ass, between flesh and mattress, and she grinds down and forward as the curved silver strap-on slides in and out of the heat of Cupcake's cunt, prompting the other girl to reach over her head and cling vicelike to the opposite edge of the bed, biting her lip.
"Try touching yourself," Kirk pants. "Rub your clit like I showed you earlier."
Cupcake explores gingerly at first, but Kirk knows what she's talking about, and the girl's tentative touches become methodical and then purpose-driven as she rocks closer to climax with every thrust.
Kirk watches her from above as she comes again - eyes squinted shut hard, mouth gaping, head tilted back, spine arched - and moves a hand from Cupcake's hip to push her own sweaty hair out of her face. Goddamn, goddamn, she should gamble more often. When she pulls out of Cupcake to allow her to breathe and reorient herself, Kirk snaps off the harness and tosses the modular cock-piece to the side.
Good times had by all, so far, but Kirk's about ready to die if she doesn't get some attention herself.
"Need a break, Cupcake?" she asks, grinning down at the thoroughly disheveled girl on the bed, mussed brown hair fallen from its ponytail and tangled all over the place.
Cupcake coughs, looking up at her a little blearily. "Uhh?" she replies, all eloquence.
Kirk dangles the harness from her index finger, a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"Don't worry," she reassures Cupcake, who looks a little out of her depth, "your part is easy. And I know a thing or two about easy."
So Kirk helps Cupcake into the web of straps and rings, swapping out the skinny silver dildo for a more substantial green one, and then, after watching a newly emboldened Cupcake do a full turn so she can appreciate the view, kisses her back down onto the bed and climbs aboard to straddle her.
It doesn't take any extra lube, not tonight - Kirk's as ready as she's ever been as she reaches between her legs to guide the silicone cock into her. Once the tip is where it needs to be, Kirk grips her palms onto her own thighs, breathes in deep, and then presses down onto it hard, taking it in all at once.
She hisses, gritting her teeth, as Cupcake looks up at her with concern. Still grimacing slightly, Kirk winks. She draws herself back up, feeling the slick suction of the withdrawing silicone, and then drives herself down onto it again.
She builds this rhythm gradually - the slow pull up, the violent slam down - until she's pumping in earnest, a hard percussion, riding Cupcake like a dirtbike without shocks, fucking herself past suaveness and banter while the other girl raises her hips in counterpoint, looking at her in awe, arousal, and concern, stroking Kirk's thighs as she rises and falls.
Kirk puts a hand between her legs to rub her clit and it's nothing like the gentle pressure she used with Cupcake - it's rough and hard and almost frantic, because she enjoys a good hard fuck for its own sake but christ does she need to get her rocks off.
Her cunt squeezes around the flex of the silicone, and the things she's shouting are probably offensive as she grinds down as fast and hard as possible onto it, one hand pressing furious strokes on her clit while the other holds on for dear life to her own dripping-with-sweat hair.
"Fuck," she pants, "fuck, ah-!" and then she chokes, holding her breath and tightening up all over.
When the orgasm consumes her, a singularity collapsing her in on herself, Kirk cries out like she's striking an opponent, a release of energy deep from her core, pure in its lack of restraint. She rocks forward, cunt still riding out the spasms of the climax, and suddenly thinks, well, fuck, why not try for two?
So she does, picking up the strokes on her clit where she left off a minute ago, and lo and behold, she's still got some volts left in her. The second orgasm leaves her screaming off the tail-end of the first, spitting language a Klingon would blush to hear. That's wrung her, and she pulls herself off the dildo and slumps down onto Cupcake, naked bodies pressed together. The room smells like sex - sweat and wet girl-parts and saliva and, faintly, Cupcake's floral shampoo - and they're both drenched with one another's perspiration. Kirk licks some off Cupcake's neck experimentally - yes, it is salty - and nuzzles her face into the crook of it with a happy sigh.
"Your hair smells nice," she mumbles into the mattress.
Cupcake's hand comes up to brush Kirk's own shaggy head, and the gesture is strangely sweet. They lie together like that for a couple minutes, Kirk breathing in Cupcake's scent, Cupcake holding Kirk gently and stroking her hair.
The cuddles break off when Kirk props herself up on her elbows. "You," she declares, "are the best study break ever." She smiles broadly at Cupcake, and then a thought occurs to her. She pauses. "I wasn't going to suggest this, because you seem pretty satisfied and possibly about ready to pass out, but I honestly think it'd be criminal to both of us if I passed up this opportunity. You up for one more round?"
Cupcake cocks her head in disbelief, then lets out a little half-laugh and considers. "You think I've got it in me?"
"Oh, if you don't already, you're about to." Kirk rolls off of Cupcake and lies flat on her back beside her. "Okay, there are two ways we can do this. One would have you lying on your back again, but you've been doing a lot of that and I'm pretty sure the view of the underside of my tits is entertaining for only so long. The other way... well, I'll show you, come over here."
Cupcake does indeed have it in her, and Kirk's tongue, too, as in no time she's gripping the headboard of the bed and kneeling over Kirk's attentive mouth. Kirk wets her own lips, and then licks Cupcake's, lapping at her clit and then stretching her tongue up inside. It doesn't reach far, obviously, but it's far enough for Kirk to feel the involuntary muscle contractions of the girl's slick cunt while her other senses pick up Cupcake's dark scent, slight salt tang, and disbelieving gasps and whimpers.
Kirk's pretty sure Cupcake's resigned herself to this oh-so-awful fate - the "bet," such as it was, is in the bag. With the other girl on top, the power has shifted, and Cupcake's got a lot more agency now in her own pleasure, which is great as far as Kirk's concerned. She's shown the rookie how to steer the ship, and now it's time to let her fly it.
Kirk herself is enjoying the ride, most notably her current mouthful of hot, wet girl. She sucks on Cupcake with the gentle suction one might use on a savored hard candy, and Cupcake, as Kirk had optimistically predicted, is about to get off again.
Kirk breaks the suction and licks for a minute, amused that Cupcake's started involuntarily grinding her crotch into Kirk's face, and decides that one final concession to vanity is in order.
"Cupcake," she says, muffled by the girl's thighs. "Baby, listen to me."
Cupcake stops rocking but maintains her clutch on the bed frame, panting down wantonly with a look that electrifies Kirk's own sex.
Kirk wets her lips absently, only to find them already wet, and purrs, "I want you to call me Captain."
Cupcake blinks. "...What?"
"Call me Captain," Kirk says, and it's a command this time. Where she's pulling this authority out of is anybody's guess, but she follows up with, "If you're gonna come, I want you screaming my name while you're doing it - it's Kirk, by the way, Jane Kirk, not sure if we ever went over that - and I want you to call me Captain."
"I don't -" Cupcake begins, but Kirk flicks out her tongue to the girl's swollen clit, and the end of the sentence is lost in a moan. "Oh," she says, "oh god...."
Kirk teases her for a few minutes, and finally the girl sobs out, "Fuck... please, Captain, alright!" and Kirk nearly comes herself then, because, oh god, it's better than she expected, and she rewards Cupcake by pulling out all the stops on her fine-honed oral skills.
She didn't make treasurer of the Xenolinguistics Club because of her dazzling personality, that's for damn sure.
Somehow she works her arm up between Cupcake's rocking thighs, and gets her thumb up inside the girl to press in the vicinity of her G-spot, which, along with the vacuum of her mouth around the girl's clitoris, gets her yelling.
"Oh... oh, Captain Kirk! Oh yes, ohhhhh, Captain!" Cupcake pants harder and faster, her sweat-glazed thighs pistoning a subtle but potent rocking motion so her cunt gets as much friction as possible from Kirk's ministrations, and Kirk feels her stiffen, hold her breath, and then let out a choked wail.
"C- Captain!" she keens, a mantra she's been repeating as her climax built and now cries out like an invocation as it hits. "God, fuck, yes, Captain Kirk, oh god!"
Her yells are echoed by a similar baritone cry of, "Good God, Jane!" and Kirk realizes with some alarm that Bones is home.
Of course she wouldn't have heard him come in, with Cupcake bearing down onto her and crying out her name... wouldn't have seen him, not with her head vised between Cupcake's thighs. Kirk is still for a moment, mind racing for the smoothest way out. This explanation could get a little awkward.
Cupcake's first instinct is apparently to shriek and roll down off of and beside Kirk to hide behind her, panting, with limited success - Kirk's a lot smaller than she is. They're both naked anyway and their clothes and top sheet are long gone in some distant corner of the room, doing very little good to anyone.
Bones, to his credit, has turned to face the wall ninety degrees away from them, not looking in their direction at all as he begins his verbal onslaught.
"Goddamn it, Jane, what the hell do you think I'm running here, some kind of infernal bordello for your personal convenience? I've put up with a lot of your shenanigans, kid, but this takes the goddamn cake." Bones goes into a full-on rant about responsibility and privacy and the worst decision-making skills of anyone he's ever had the extreme misfortune of meeting, and Kirk sort of tunes him out, debating internally the best way of charming her way out of this. She decides that the combined nudity in the room is adding to McCoy's discomfort, so she climbs off the bed and grabs the sheet from the floor, throwing it over Cupcake's shivering form (combination of nerves, cooling sweat, and afterglow, Kirk reckons) before picking her underwear off of a stack of forms on the desk and stepping into them. She continues her scavenger hunt as Bones continues shouting at the far wall, clearly quite displeased at his late-night surprise.
Only Bones could be so irate to discover naked lesbians going at it in his bed.
“And what the hell was that ‘Captain Kirk’ business about, anyway, you megalomaniacal, sex-crazed maniac? Actually, never mind, I’d rather not know.”
Kirk finds her sports bra and pulls it on. She's decent now, she figures - got the essentials covered, anyway - so she tosses Cupcake her uniform and walks over to put a hand on Bones's shoulder.
"Bones -" she starts, but he doesn't let her speak. He turns abruptly.
"Don't put those hands on me, I don't know where they've been," he spits. "Who knows what bacteria you're hosting? Nice of you to get them all in my bed," he adds bitterly.
"Bones, we changed the sheets -"
"Gonna have to disinfect the whole damn room," Bones continues, disgruntled.
"Bones," Kirk says, and she grabs him by both shoulders so he stops talking and looks her in the face, "do you think, if I had any other choice, I would have used your room?"
"You had a choice! You could have not had sex with her!"
Kirk stares, certain she must have misheard. Bones buries his face in his hands with a long-suffering sigh that, honestly, Kirk feels is a bit overdramatic.
"I should have known something was up," he says between his fingers, "when I had to put in the manual locking override code. I knew I didn't set it when I left this afternoon..."
"Here, Bones, let me help Cupcake get her things together, and I'll explain every-"
"Her name is Cupcake?!"
"Actually," says Cupcake, standing up from the bed - she's apparently changed into her rumpled uniform under the sheet - "I'm-"
"As far as he's concerned, your name is Cupcake!" Kirk interrupts carefully, not wanting an enraged Bones to report anyone for trespassing in his dorm room. "I deserve to get in trouble for this, maybe, but you don't."
Cupcake looks indignant for a minute, but apparently concedes Kirk's point because she nods slowly.
"Here," says Kirk, "let me walk you out." She looks over her shoulder at McCoy before escorting the girl out to the hallway and letting the door slide shut behind them.
"I am so sorry -" she starts to whisper, but gets cut off when Cupcake's lips collide with her own.
Kirk's eyes widen, but she hasn't made it this far in life without following her instincts, so she closes her eyes and lets her tongue meet Cupcake's in a long, hard kiss.
It breaks off with a wet smack of lips, and Cupcake whispers, "You win."
She turns and walks down the hall with remarkable poise for somebody who just had her brain sucked out through her clit. Kirk stares after her, mesmerized by the slight sway of her hips and ponytail.
Goddamn, thinks Kirk, and the long, apologetic discussion she's about to have with Bones is totally, completely, unquestionably worth it.
Kirk's up early, fresh from a jog around the quad. She's only had a couple hours sleep but she feels fantastic as she makes her way back to her dorm for a quick shower and change before her third attempt at the big, "unbeatable" simulation test. She whistles as she climbs the stairs, skipping every other step, a newly-acquired bottle under her arm - her plan is to wait until after the test, kneel before Bones, beg his forgiveness, and present him with the bottle and its precious contents. It'll work. If any of her plans work today, this one will.
As she rounds the corner at the top of the stairwell, she bumps into somebody. "Whoops, sorry," she apologizes automatically, as he does the same. She steps back and sees it's one of the cadets who'd given her shit in the hallway last night.
The dude recognizes her, too. He pauses, considers her. "Look," he says, "I know we didn't get off on a good foot before. I... probably acted like kind of a bastard. I really thought you were just another smug command-track asshole, but you're alright, you know? You're alright. Sorry for bumping into you. Anyway, see you around."
He walks away, and Kirk goes into her room, a big grin on her face. She's ready for the test, ready as ever to take on the impossible.
Jane T. Kirk has always loved a challenge.
Notes!
TYFYT! \o/
Author: alder_knight
Rating: NC-17, femmeslash.
Wordcount: Roughly 10k.
Summary: The Sexual Shenanigans of Cadet Jane T. Kirk: Cupcake Edition. From the st_xi_kink prompt, "Can I get me some AlwaysaGirl!Cupcake/AlwaysaGirl!Kirk epic barfight-violence-triggered!hate-sex?" It's not quite as hate-sexy as the OP wanted, but it's definitely girl!Kirk/girl!Cupcake, fucking and fighting, not in that order. Also features (canonically-gendered) Uhura, Gaila, and Bones!
Disclaimer: I neither own, nor profit from, any characters or situations related to Star Trek. (It blows.)
Warnings: Brief shades of dubcon, and blatant homophobia/hate speech during one of the fistfights - both are quickly resolved.
Beta'd by ennyousai and redcirce, both internet rockstars and fucking fantastic editors. They are my grammar-clocking, canon-rocking dream team.
Also, coasterchild made me ART! HOLY GODS OF SPACE. The two pictures are inserted in the applicable spots in the fic. I DEFY YOU TO CONTAIN YOUR SQUEE AT HER GIRL!KIRK/GAILA PIC, I'M JUST SAYING.
Okay, on with the show!
Jane Kirk can only kill so many evenings drinking the same shitty, cheap booze and listening to the same soulless techno before the monotony of bar life in East Bumfuck, Iowa finally destroys her will to live. She would love to just find something else to do, except that there isn't anything else. Even her usual pastime of popping wheelies back and forth across the quarry ledge is now verboten - last time she tried, the cops gave her serious shit for it. Kirk squints as she takes a long pull on her drink. At least the taste isn't so bad, after a couple.
On the up side, it seems to be bar night for the new Starfleet recruits, which means the place is crowded with people closer to Kirk's age than the usual clientèle. She scans the room, itching for a fight or a fuck, or maybe both.
When the long-haired girl steps up to the bar a couple stools down and starts rattling off a drink order as long as her arm, Kirk frowns and looks over. There is no way that girl can drink that much booze by herself. Hot girl, though. Maybe tonight has potential after all. Kirk clears her throat and leans over the bar.
"That's a lot of drinks for one woman."
The long-haired girl glares hard before turning back to the bartender to finish placing her order. "And a shot of tequila, straight up."
Undaunted, Kirk tries again.
"Make that two - her shot's on me."
"Her shot's on her - thanks, but no thanks," says the girl.
Kirk contemplates abandoning her efforts and trying for someone who looks a little more open to queer advances, but the girl's got really nice legs and Kirk's always loved a challenge.
A last name - Uhura - is all she can wheedle out of the girl, so Just Uhura it is. Kirk swings off her bar seat, a little unsteady, and slides up beside her.
"So, you're a cadet, you're studying - what's your focus?"
Just Uhura narrows her eyes. "Xenolinguistics. You have no idea know what that means."
Oh, really? "Study of alien languages. Morphology, phonology, syntax. Means you've got a talented tongue." Kirk resists the urge to V her fingers in front of her mouth, but she does wink and flick the tip of her tongue a few times, and garners a smirk and raised eyebrow for her efforts. Maybe this chick is curious. Could be good for a fun night.
Kirk is surprised when the tall, heavyset brunette leans over Just-Uhura's shoulder. "This townie isn't bothering you, right?"
Kirk blinks. Townie? Really? Apparently bigotry is something Starfleet doesn't address until after orientation. Kirk takes another drink from her almost-empty glass as Just Uhura laughs, "Oh, beyond belief. But it's nothing I can't handle."
Kirk, feeling reckless, quips, "You could handle me. That's an invitation," eying Uhura conspiratorially.
"Hey," says the tall girl, "mind your fucking manners."
"Relax, cupcake, it was a joke." Kirk's too drunk for this catty bullshit and is about to walk away and look for more responsive prey when the girl grabs her by the shoulder and things start to get interesting.
"Listen up, bitch!" she growls.
Kirk raises an eyebrow.
"Maybe you can't count," hisses Cupcake, pointing to the three jockish male cadets standing with arms folded behind her, "but there are four of us, and one of you!"
Oh, yes, this is perfect. Kirk leans in, dangerously close, and says in a low voice, "So round up some more of your space cadet lackeys and it'll be an even fight." She pats Cupcake on the cheek, condescending as possible, shoots her a kissy-faced wink, and turns back to the bar.
It doesn't take long. A hand curls around her bicep and Kirk turns, only to end up with a faceful of Cupcake's swinging fist. Kirk reels, blinking with the sting of it, and then her face lights up with a grin like a fiend. Finally.
She launches herself at the first dude who comes up to pull her away, one tight fist hitting the side of his face, a dusty engineer boot connecting with his shin, and is about to level him with a knee to the gut when one of his friends yanks her off balance and she stumbles back.
She hasn't fought this many people at once in a long time, and never this drunk, but she's in it to win it now, and what the hell, it breaks up the monotony. The dude she punched first is holding his nose - looks like it's bleeding, from the corner of her vision, but she's not focusing on him, she's focusing on the grabbing hands coming to stop her, hold her still. Cupcake is shouting insults and trying to cut back in, but Kirk wants a piece of these Starfleet meatheads first.
She ducks one's swinging arms - what's he trying to do, hug her? - and drives an elbow into his solar plexus. As he doubles forward, she clips him in the forehead with a rising stroke from the same elbow, and shoots a foot out sideways at his buddy. She's miscalculated, though, and misses as he sidesteps. Completely off balance, she overcompensates and stumbles. She grabs a bottle off the table to wale him in the head, but the fucker dances around behind her and yanks her up, wrenching her arms tight behind her back - apparently the asshole isn't willing to punch a girl, even one with shaggy hair and clothes like a greaser, but he'll hold her still while his fucking alpha-female ringleader takes potshots at her. Kirk jerks a heel upward, trying for a jab to the nuts, but the guy's too tall. Cupcake's eyes are furious, but she starts grinning as she rounds on Kirk and nails her with a punch to the stomach.
Somewhere, distantly, Kirk can hear Just Uhura shouting, trying to break up the fight. Nice girl. Probably would have screamed half a dozen different languages in bed. Pity. Kirk dry-heaves, tries to ram the back of her skull into soft tissue on the jackoff holding her arms, gets a fucking backhand bitchslap in the face for her trouble. Punches follow - she turns her head but gets cracked in the nose, the jaw. She spits blood and sways on her feet. She's not down, not yet, but her vision's starting to go in and out. Cupcake grabs her by the collar of her grimy white t-shirt and winds back to knock her lights out, when a sudden, piercing whistle splits the noise in the room. The cadets drop her, and she slumps to the floor, bleeding, probably drooling, only half-aware of the red-clad recruits hurrying out of the room. She wheezes. Blood comes up. Actually, blood seems to be coming out of her nose, too, and possibly also her knuckles. The room spins. A serious-looking gentleman in a gray Starfleet uniform kneels in front of her.
"You all right, kid?" he asks kindly.
"You can whistle really loud," she manages, before her eyes roll closed and she's out.
At some point, Kirk comes to, and the bar's almost empty but there's still a man behind the counter, so she wrenches herself to her feet, wipes her bloody nose gingerly on a handful of cheap cocktail napkins, and orders a Bloody Mary, extra spicy, figuring she could probably use some vegetables. It's hard to distinguish what pounding in her head is from the fight and what's just the headache of a hangover, but she hasn't been out that long and, honestly, is probably still more than a little drunk. Kirk tips back her drink and turns to face the room, where she sees the older man who broke up the fight sitting at a table. He's alone, watching her. The Tabasco has a nice kick, and Kirk sniffs and blows her nose, which fucks up the clotting and starts it bleeding again. Unperturbed, she wads up some paper napkin, sticks it in to stop the bleeding, and pulls out the chair across from The Whistler.
He introduces himself as Captain Christopher Pike, and then starts in on a fucking recruiting spiel. Kirk is nonplussed, and, before long, a little annoyed.
"You guys must be way down on your recruiting quota for the month, man..." Pike cuts her off.
"If you've got half the potential your father had, Jane, Starfleet could use you." Then he starts explaining what the Federation is, what it does, why it's important, like she's some kind of backwoods ignoramus, and Kirk's had enough.
"We done?" she asks, silencing the man.
He watches her for a few moments, tosses some closing remarks her way, and finally leaves. Kirk sets her empty cup on the table, settles her tab, and shuffles out into the vast Iowa flatness to collapse on her back in a nearby cornfield, looking up into the streaky pre-dawn sky and thinking hard about life and what the fuck she's doing with hers. She dozes for a couple hours. When the rising sun wakes her, she rides over to the construction yard to look up at the leviathan skeleton of what will become Starfleet's new flagship. It's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, and it's the piece that finally steels Kirk's resolve.
When the shuttle for new recruits takes off at 0800 hours the next morning, Kirk's on it. So is Just Uhura, who grants her an eye-roll and a smile of recognition.
So's Cupcake.
Starfleet Academy, though a little more uptight with regulations than Kirk might prefer, turns out to be a good fit. She's assigned to an open double and her roommate is possibly the most boring, studious, joy-killing individual Kirk's ever met, so she spends most of her nonacademic time haunting the single dorm room next door, home to one Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy. She's the one who gives him the nickname, and he bitches about it at first, but Kirk persists, and eventually he capitulates. Bones is significantly older than Kirk, gruff and cynical, which Kirk finds a delightful contrast to the saccharine attitudes of most wide-eyed INTERGALACTIC PEACE AND LOVE zealots in the Academy's underclasses. Plus, Bones doesn't hit on her, which is refreshing if puzzling. Privately, Kirk suspects he may just not be into girls.
Bones's toolbox of First Aid paraphernalia and bureau drawer of impeccably-aged booze are added perks.
When she's not bitching and drinking with Bones or hitting the books, Kirk weaves between Xenolinguistics Club, flight sims, and extracurricular advanced combat training in the fitness center. Any spare bits of free time, she cruises. The Academy's got strict policies on booze and fighting, but there’s no rule against hooking up between cadets, and Kirk does like to indulge her old vices when she gets the rare chance. The academic schedule is rigorous, and sometimes a good roll in the sheets (or stacks, or storage unit) helps shake off the tension.
So it's no real surprise when Kirk finds herself stripped down to her briefs and sports bra one day after chatting up the unbelievably sexy Orion girl in the computer lab - to be honest, her initial intentions were just to charm some administrative passwords out of the girl, but goddamn if the bombshell redhead didn't give as good as she got. There was tension, there were sparks, there was a three-hour window when the girl's roommate would be out in the long range sensor lab - all signs pointed to yes. By now, Kirk's got the girl - Gaila - down to her panties and bra, squirming happily underneath her, and would be enjoying the view if she weren't occupied with putting her mouth all over Gaila's neck, ear, chin, collarbone. She kisses a path down her sternum, across the soft skin of her stomach, to the top of the elastic on her panties, and lifts her head enough to shoot Gaila a wicked look. She gets a pleased sounding "Mmmmmm" for her troubles, which she takes as a pretty good response.
Kirk thinks about taking off Gaila's bra, but it's a really sexy bra and there'll be plenty of time for that later. For now, she slides up, retracing her path of kisses, and runs her tongue along the edge of the lace cupping one green breast. Gaila gasps, pleasantly surprised. "Ah, keep doing that!" Kirk doesn't need to be told twice - she flicks her tongue along the edge again - flick, flick - and pulls the lace cup away so Gaila's breast is exposed, still supported by her underwire. Kirk's mouth dances around the taut skin - it is a glorious breast, heavy and full - lapping and kissing and nipping before she flicks her tongue against the nipple and it goes firm. "Ahh," gasps Gaila, her hands in Kirk's hair, scratching the scalp deliciously, "mmm." Kirk closes her lips around it and gives some suction, gentle and then harder. She's got one hand below her shoulder, supporting her, both knees straddling Gaila's thighs, and a free hand that's stroking Gaila's hip right now. She grazes those fingers across the girl's abdomen, dragging her nails, and slides featherlight fingertips across the top of Gaila's panties, then just under the edge. Kirk's mouth pulls back from Gaila's breast for a moment in order to kiss the hollow of her throat and run a tongue up the side of her neck, and then resumes its post, tongue rubbing to counterpoint the suction of her lips.
Gaila exhales loudly. She's clearly a very vocal girl in bed, a quality Kirk finds delightful.
"Is this okay?" Kirk breathes, fingers sliding past the elastic to brush against the top of Gaila's bush. It gives her a sudden jolt of excitement when she realizes she's not just fucking a ridiculously hot green girl, she's fucking a ridiculously hot Orion, a different species entirely. The thought is getting her hotter already.
"Yessssss," purrs Gaila, and Kirk slides her hand below to explore brave new frontiers, using her teeth to pull back the elastic lace covering Gaila's other breast and let her lips roam there. Gaila's still rubbing her hair, tugging it, murmuring a stream of encouraging yeses, when suddenly her hands stop and she starts saying, "No, stop, nononono," and trying to sit up. Concerned and confused, Kirk sits back on her heels, asking, "Baby, what's-" but before she finishes her sentence, she hears the electric sound of the door unlocking and Gaila's trying to shove her onto the floor.
"Shhh, it's my roommate! Quick, get under the bed," Gaila whispers urgently. When Kirk tries to protest, she shushes her - "No, under the bed! She can't see you here!"
"Why not?" asks Kirk, increasingly annoyed at being interrupted. "I thought you said she was gone for the night!"
"Well, obviously she isn't! And I promised her I'd stop bringing hookups back to the room, that's why not," the Orion hisses. "You've got to hide!"
Kirk is indignant. "Hang on, how often do you-" she starts to ask, but Gaila's shooing her below so she lies flat on the floor, out of breath and still horny, and hopes Roommate is just popping in for a forgotten PADD or something on her way back out. To be honest, Kirk couldn't care less how long this girl's track record is - right now, she just wants to finish what they've started.
The door swishes open and Kirk hears bootsteps on the floor. "Hey!" Gaila chirps brightly from the bed, greeting her returning roommate. The two begin chatting and Kirk rolls onto her side to see if she can get a visual on this Roommate, because the voice sounds uncannily familiar. To her utter disbelief, Gaila's roommate is none other than Just Uhura.
Kirk watches in fascination, only half-listening to their conversation about the Klingon distress signal Just Uhura picked up in the lab. Right now Kirk's attention is diverted to the much more pressing issue of the girl across the room removing her boots, then removing her uniform turtleneck, and then removing her skirt. Enthralled, Kirk only distantly registers Gaila asking, "So... you're not going back to the lab tonight?" with just a hint too much interest in her voice. Just Uhura stops short, turns around, giving Kirk a full-frontal view of her nice-girls-don't white bra and underwear; it's all Kirk can do to stay still.
All good things must end, however, and Uhura’s clearly caught on, so Kirk sighs and stands up.
“YOU.” Uhura is not amused. Kirk decides that the correct course of action right now is to make an expedient exit, even if part of her thinks Starfleet's mission to promote inter-species cooperation would be better served by attempting to initiate three-way lesbian diplomacy. She senses that Just Uhura is not currently at her most receptive.
"Big day tomorrow," Kirk grins, gathering her clothes. Just Uhura throws her jacket at her.
"You're gonna fail," she hisses, referring to the simulation test Kirk's taking for the third time in the morning. Privately, Kirk doesn't agree, but she tosses a casual, "See you around, Gaila," over her shoulder and allows Just Uhura to shepherd her out of the room. Uhura still won't tell her her first name. Instead, she very clearly tells Kirk, "Get out."
"You know," Kirk attempts, in a last-ditch reconciliation effort, "I think the fact that you picked up a transmission is very inter-"
The door slides shut in her face and Kirk comes to the realization that she is locked out in the hall, stripped down to her underwear and sports bra, still wet as a sponge and probably smelling faintly of the fantastic sex she was about to have. Outstanding.
At least she has her clothes, this time - it makes the walk of shame back to her hall a little less awkward.
Kirk turns her back on the door with the intention of setting her things down and stepping into her uniform pants, but noise from down the hall makes her pause. She peers down the corridor. The face she picks out from the trio rounding the corner takes a second to register, but when it does, it's all Kirk can do to not break down laughing at the absurdity of it all - who should it be, but Cupcake.
It's too late now to get her clothes on without being seen struggling, and the rest of the hallway's too long for her to zip around the corner unnoticed - she'll be damned if she's going to let these smug assholes see her sweat, so Kirk tucks her bundle more neatly under her arm, squares her shoulders, and strides down the hallway in the direction of the approaching cadets, humming cheerfully.
As they get closer, the expressions on the bastards' faces are fucking priceless, but Kirk manages to hold it together and refrain from cracking a smile. All three stop and stare as she approaches, shock gradually fading to awkward uncertainty. "At ease, gentlemen," she salutes, stepping around their group and progressing down the hallway. Apparently that breaks the reverie, because one of the dudes grabs her arm.
"Pretty sure that's not regulation," he says, leering at her expanses of bare skin. Kirk turns halfway around and clears her throat.
"Starfleet Academy dress code protocol 31.07 prohibits cadets on campus from appearing out of uniform, except in the privacy of the students' living quarters, which is where I'm headed. You're impeding my attempt to follow official policy. Pretty sure that's against regulation." She removes the guy's hand and starts to walk away again.
He calls out after her, pissed that she's dismissing him, but is stopped when Cupcake spits bitterly, "Don't waste your breath on that fucking dyke."
This time, when Kirk stops, she spins all the way around and slowly walks closer to the other cadets. "What did you say?" she asks in a low voice.
A strange mix of emotions is playing across Cupcake's face, masked by her bravado, but Kirk can't decipher it - she can tell, however, that one of those emotions is fear. "I said you're a fucking dyke," the girl repeats, triumphant. Kirk narrows her eyes, cocks her head, and then leans back and nods.
"Well, if that's all," she says reasonably, flashing a broad grin, "I'll just be getting back to my dorm room to enjoy my immense stash of lesbian porn. G'night!"
Cupcake looks dumbfounded and horrified. Her two male companions are apparently idiots, because Kirk's statement seems to have stopped their brains working. They're whispering to one another in awe-struck disbelief. Kirk rolls her eyes. "Beat it, boys," she commands, and they turn, still muttering, to head down the hall in the direction Kirk came from, leaving Cupcake rooted to the spot. As their excited whispers fade out down the corridor, Kirk raises an eyebrow at Cupcake.
"What the hell's your problem, anyway?" she asks, genuinely curious under her irritation. "Showing off in front of the pack? Or what, did you want to call up another buddy so the four of you could challenge me to a rematch?"
Cupcake's body language has shifted dramatically. Her hands are balled in fists by her sides, knuckles pale. She is staring at the floor as though her heat-vision will burn a hole through it at any moment. For a long time, she says nothing. Kirk rolls her eyes and shifts her armload of clothes to walk away, but hears Cupcake mutter something under her breath.
"Come again?" Kirk asks. Cupcake looks her in the eye.
"It's disgusting," she whispers, "two girls doing... that, what you do. Together. It's wrong and... you're disgusting."
Kirk is blown away. "Where the hell did you come from, you ignorant fuck? I thought homophobia died around the time of the Eugenics War, good lord."
Kirk sees the backhand coming for her a mile away and doesn't even drop her clothes when she bobs backwards to dodge it. Cupcake doesn't swing again, resuming her death glare at the floor. Unfazed, Kirk continues. "Seriously, that's what you've got against me? Out of all the myriad reasons you could choose to hate me, its because I fuck girls? How the hell did you get into the Academy, believing that xenophobic bullshit? Is this something you picked up on your own, or did your shit-for-brains mommy and daddy spoon-feed it to you?"
Kirk does drop her clothes this time, as Cupcake cries out and lunges for her, hands grabbing. "Oh, look out!" Kirk warns. "Careful you don't catch the gay!" Cupcake flinches almost imperceptibly, but it's long enough for Kirk to strike with the ridge of her hand to the muscle in the bigger girl's shoulder. Cupcake makes a noise of pain; apparently Kirk's succeeded in hitting the ulnar nerve, numbing the whole arm. She sends a jab right below Cupcake's ribcage, and it strikes home, but she's not paying enough attention to Cupcake's good hand, and gets socked in the nose. Damn, but that girl has an arm.
Fed up, Kirk weaves out of range, ducks under Cupcake's next swing, and levels a roundhouse punch that connects with Cupcake right under the jaw and knocks her back against the wall where she curls sideways, covering her face. Kirk swoops in, turns Cupcake to face the wall, grabs both her wrists, and pins her in a headlock.
"Bitch," she mutters, seeing stars from the hit to her nose. Cupcake spits on the floor, aiming for Kirk's bare feet. Kirk wrinkles her nose and says, "You're not doing much to improve my opinion of you, you know."
"What the fuck do I care what you think of me?" sneers Cupcake. Just to fuck with her, Kirk brushes a finger along the cadet's neck gently as she says, "It's not true, you know. I make exceptions for boys from time to time. I just prefer hard, sweaty lesbian sex to its hetero counterpart, usually."
Cupcake shudders. Kirk gets an idea.
"So," says Kirk, "I'm just trying to figure you out. You hate dykes, boo, disgusting. Right? So you're totally into dudes, then, right? You must love the cock."
Cupcake makes a subtle, involuntary gagging noise, and Kirk almost starts laughing and ruins everything. She keeps it together.
"Mmm, cock, all cock, all the time. Except, you've got me wondering. I've never seen you without a pack of guys when you walk around. The fact that they're always there... and, more importantly, that they all seem to respect you... would imply, to me, that you're not fucking any of them."
Cupcake scowls. There's a hint of panic behind it.
"Am I wrong? Tell me if I'm wrong."
Cupcake says nothing. Kirk tightens her headlock. "Answer me."
"You're not wrong," mumbles Cupcake, face pressed into the wall.
"Fascinating," says Kirk. "Do they just not do it for you? Do you need a different sort of boy to give you what you want? Oh, I'm sorry, I'm overlooking the possibility that maybe you're just not interested in sex at all. But for one so uninterested, you certainly sound like you spend a lot of time thinking about what other people do in bed... all the terrible, wrong, immoral things they do... don't you?"
Cupcake thrashes slightly, but Kirk keeps her hold. The girl whimpers. Kirk doesn't press it. She leans in closer, very close to Cupcake's ear. Her next words are barely a whisper.
"It gets you off, doesn't it?"
And now Kirk gets a surprise, because Cupcake actually cries out, "No!" and sobs into the wall. It wasn't Kirk's intention to inflict psychological distress, though now she thinks of it, she can't pinpoint what her intention was.
"Hey," she says, "hey. Stay with me here." Her triumph is tempered by the dirty feeling of exploiting an opponent's weakness - effective tactic, but not very sportsmanlike. She does not, however, release the headlock - she feels bad, but she's not stupid.
"So that's it, then," Kirk mutters, leaning close, bare torso pressing into Cupcake's back. "You're totally into girls and you just don't want to admit it, am I right?"
"Fuck you," spits Cupcake, and Kirk can feel hot tears running off the other girl's chin onto her bicep. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Kirk sighs. "Oh, don't I?" She runs her tongue up the side of Cupcake's neck, and the cadet lets loose a shocked noise between a gasp and a moan. Kirk raises her eyebrows.
"Well, I'm certainly not going to try anything with you if you don't want it," she says, "but I'm pretty sure you do."
Cupcake recoils. "Don't say that; I'm not like that. I'm not... one of you. It's bad, it's dirty, it's wrong. It's disgusting. No." She sounds like she's trying to reassure herself.
"Who told you that, anyway?" asks Kirk. "Doesn't hurt anybody, does it? Doesn't cause any harm in the world. Child abuse, that's bad-dirty-wrong. Lesbian sex is awesome." She leans around to look closer at Cupcake's face, and sees that the girl's eyes are wet with tears and tightly shut. "Hey," she says, "look at me." The other cadet's eyes open slowly.
"How about a wager?" she says, because she gets the sense that this girl likes a challenge as much as she does, and because she's feeling humanitarian, and because she'd really like to get some tonight and the beast of a cadet she's got in the chokehold has the potential to be a fantastic lay. "You think it's wrong, I get that, but I also get that you're curious. Allow me to try to convince you."
"What the hell?" asks Cupcake sniffily, face still pressed to the wall. "No, what the fuck kind of wager is that?"
"Let me finish," says Kirk. "My half of the bargain is that I do my damnedest to blow your fucking mind. I don't know where this bullshit mindset of yours originated, but I'm prepared to show you the light. If I'm wrong, if you're turned off and horrified and still certain that The Gay is a cesspool of moral depravity, then you win, I leave you the fuck alone, and you can blame the nightmare entirely on my bad influence - it's no moral stain on your soul or whatever if you don't enjoy it, right? Name your prize, if that's not good enough for you. But if I'm right, if I can prove to you that I know what you want and how to give it to you, well, you get the hottest night of your life with the hottest cadet in the Academy, and the only thanks I ask is that you apologize to me in front of your cronies. I need their respect, damn it - they might be my crew someday."
Cupcake blinks at Kirk, disbelieving. She considers for a moment. "You're out of your fucking mind."
"So we have a deal, then?"
"Yeah, fine, we have a deal. Let go of my fucking neck."
Kirk obliges.
The hallway appears to be deserted. Cupcake rubs her neck, regarding Kirk with suspicion like a cornered stray. Kirk rolls her eyes.
"For crying out loud, I'm not going to bite you. Okay, actually, I can't promise that, but would it kill you to show some enthusiasm? What's your name, anyway?"
The cadet looks away. "I'd rather not say, just now."
Kirk's 0 for 2 on names tonight. "Cupcake it is, then. What time is it?"
Cupcake checks. "21:50."
Shit. "Curfew's in ten minutes. Alright, how are we going to swing this? My roommate will cover for me if I'm not there at check-in - it's not really her nature to bend the rules like that, but they give her the third degree if she lets on that I'm not there, so she's gotten used to it. What about you?"
"I'm in a triple... but I've covered for each of them before, so my roommates should be able to cover me tonight."
"Excellent," says Kirk. She catches Cupcake staring at the floor again. "Hey. Hey, lighten up. Your system is about to hit endorphin overload. Exciting, right?" She closes the distance between them to lean Cupcake into the wall, slide one hand to her waist and the other into her hair, and surprise the cadet with an open-mouthed kiss.
Cupcake tightens up for a moment before sighing into it and reciprocating... but then her eyes open and she pulls away abruptly, shoving Kirk hard. "Not here!" she hisses.
Kirk, caught off guard, doesn't tuck her chin for impact, and smacks her head hard on the opposite corridor wall. "Ow! Bitch!" she spits in return, bringing a hand up to the back of her head. It's throbbing already. "Okay, okay, nothing in public! Even though there's nobody here, you goddamn lunatic." Kirk winces and starts to walk away.
"Where are you going?" asks Cupcake, sounding slightly panicked.
"Well, we obviously can't stay here, can we? I don't know how many knocks of that magnitude I can withstand."
Cupcake has the decency to look guilty.
"Anyway," continues Kirk, "we can't go to my room - roommate's even more uptight than you are, which, I assure you, is impressive. Can't go to your room, I take it, as it's a triple and you'd prefer to keep this under wraps, yes?" Cupcake nods. "Yes. So where does that leave us? The grounds would be okay if it were earlier or later, but they'll be doing their curfew sweep around now and we've got no place to lay low in the meantime. The sim labs are off limits - I've had some fun in them before, trust me, but if you get caught they really roast you for it - and I'm pretty sure there's a class in the observatory tonight, so we can't go up there. Great timing, lunar eclipse." Kirk sighs. She looks at Cupcake. Cupcake's following her, but her expression is disbelieving.
"You've seriously hooked up in all those places?" she asks, somewhere between impressed and horrified.
"I don't want to bore you with the full accounts of my exploits, but yes, those are some of my more successful tryst locations. I mean, take the walk-in refrigerators behind the mess kitchen - fairly secure and remote, right, but there are places on your person you just do not want frostbitten, catch my drift?"
Cupcake nods, silent.
"So there's our predicament. The usual spots are not terribly useful to us tonight, and the less-usual spots are less-usual for very good reasons." She pauses in the stairwell to face Cupcake. "Thoughts?"
Cupcake ponders. "Too bad neither of us has the seniority for a single... or a private office."
"Yeah, I'm totally jealous of the guy who lives next door to me, Bones - he's a med student, but really he's already a doctor, used to have his own private practice, so he's just here for the Starfleet portion of his training. Has his own office, a single... doesn't have to be around for check-ins so he stays out in lab or his office practically every night he doesn't have class in the morning. Hell, lucky bastard's probably enjoying a drink in his office right now, grading papers for the class he TAs and listening to country-western on his PADD. Probably won't even get home until after midnight. You can see why I'd envy that." Kirk starts winding up the steps, and stops.
"Wait a minute."
Kirk can hear the RAs starting check-in down at the other end of the hall as she blurs through her own room to drop her uniform, strip the sheets off her bed, and give explicit instructions to her roommate who's - surprise - studying at her desk. Then it's back out into the hall, and she stops herself from grabbing Cupcake's hand to pull her up to Bones's door while she punches in the key code and waits for the sliding whoosh.
Cupcake's looking agitated but Kirk's feeling pretty calm, considering she's standing in her underwear in the middle of the hall during check-in, two strikes already on her judicial record from breaking curfew and arguing with her Diplomacy professor (the irony does not escape her). The door beeps at her. She presses the keypad again, more carefully, and the door obliges by sliding open. Kirk slips inside, and Cupcake follows.
"Computer," says Kirk, "standard lock sequence, manual override code 5-6-2-6-6-2."
"Acknowledged. Locking mechanism engaged." There's a digital chirp, and they're secured.
Kirk pushes the bedding off Bones's bed and throws her own sheets over the mattress - she's got her shortcomings, but never let it be said that she isn't considerate of her friends' things. She looks at Cupcake. The girl's clearly nervous, but she's trying to look defiant. The room's building up tension like a static charge. Kirk decides that the best thing for her might be to tackle the cadet and fuck her senseless, but the best thing for Cupcake is probably to take it slowly. Start with vanilla; there'll be time for rocky road later. Kirk closes the distance between them.
"Your jacket's crooked. Let me get that for you." She slips the hook-and-eye closures at Cupcake's collar, and then places a flat palm on the cadet's pounding chest to hold the fabric while she eases the zipper open, parting red over black. Cupcake is very still as Kirk slides the jacket off her shoulders so she is standing in her uniform boots, pants, and black undershirt. Kirk wraps a hand around one of Cupcake's biceps, and whistles.
"No wonder I felt like I'd been hit by a train. I was."
Kirk goes to pull off Cupcake's shirt, too, but the cadet's hesitant. "I don't... want to. I don't want to take that off yet."
Yet. Well, alright. "How about the pants, then? And you've got to take the boots off, Bones hates when people wear shoes in his room."
"How does he feel about strangers in his bed when he's not around?" Cupcake asks, kneeling to unlace.
"Well, we're going to find out, aren't we?" says Kirk. She watches Cupcake pry off her boots, and then, slowly, nervously, self-consciously unfasten and slide down her uniform trousers. She stands awkwardly, holding them in front of her to block the view of her legs.
"Well, that's a little more even, isn't it?" Kirk grins, adjusting her own bra strap. She takes Cupcake's pants and, not looking, flings them over her shoulder. "Cute underwear."
Cupcake blushes deep red, and Kirk puts a hand behind her head and kisses her.
Cupcake doesn't reciprocate, but she doesn't pull away. Kirk slides her hand to the back of the girl's neck as she slips her tongue through the parted lips, hitting teeth. She takes her by the chin as she licks an earlobe, nips at her jaw and then kisses her again. Cupcake keeps pretty quiet - well-conditioned, Kirk supposes - but her quick little exhalations are sufficient positive feedback.
Kirk places hands at Cupcake's waist and pulls their torsos tangent. Thick is the term that comes to mind - solid thighs, round ass, tight abs, thick waist. The Academy favors athletic candidates, for practical reasons, and thus much of the female student body is made up of willowy female student bodies. Cupcake seems to be an exception, tall and heavy-set and strong as hell, hopefully the same force to be reckoned with in bed as in a barfight. Not coincidentally, Kirk's finding her maddeningly hot. Her right hand works its way up under the back of Cupcake's black tee while the left strokes her neck, and slowly, little by little, Kirk backs her towards the edge of Bones's bed.
Cupcake's warming up now, if her jump in enthusiasm is any indication, but while her mouth seems to understand what to do, her hands hover uncertainly, awkwardly, out beside her. As the backs of her knees hit the mattress and she drops sitting to the bare sheets, she takes hold of Kirk's arms just above the elbows to pull her down, too. Kirk grins at the encouragement, and eases Cupcake horizontal until she can climb over her, mind's eye flashing to déjà vu images of Gaila, an hour ago.
"How we feeling?" breathes Kirk, lips hovering close to Cupcake's ear. The girl shivers and her eyes slowly open to focus on Kirk's.
"Good," she whispers, and then seems to remember herself. "I... I mean-"
"Shh," says Kirk. "'Good' is good. Let's go for 'better.' We still attached to this shirt?"
Cupcake hesitates and shakes her head. She raises her hips and then shoulders as Kirk guides the black undershirt over and off.
"Ah. See? Better!" says Kirk. Cupcake looks unconvinced, so Kirk licks along her clavicle, one hand stroking down newly-exposed ribcage, brushing the outer elastic of her bra.
In a matter of minutes, the bra's off completely, flung somewhere they'll figure out later. Cupcake is fully engaged in the situation by this point - Kirk's meticulous slowness has got her sensitive to the faintest touches of fingers or lips. She doesn't seem to have completely lost her self-consciousness, though, and Kirk notes that she looks a little shy. Fair's fair - Kirk sits back on her heels to pull off her own sports bra. She realizes as she tosses it away that it smells of sweat from combat training, so she's better off without it anyway. She looks down at the flushed cadet laid out on the bed and absently flicks out her tongue to wet her lips.
"Can I take off your panties?" she asks.
Cupcake stares, but Kirk realizes the gaze is directed at her chest, not her face. She rolls her eyes. It goes unnoticed.
"You know what, hold that thought. I have a better idea."
Kirk pulls the top sheet up and all but lies on top of Cupcake, breasts brushing against the other girl's chest as she tucks the fabric loosely around them both. She slides down Cupcake's body, disappearing below the cotton folds, hands grazing along Cupcake's thighs, and the girl's whole body jerks. Well, damn.
Kirk traces her nails along calves, feet, inner thighs, sometimes skimming up to graze hips and ribs, but always avoiding contact with the other girl's sex. She'll get there - oh, she'll get there - but she wants Cupcake good and ready first.
Kirk admires the girl's restraint, but eventually Cupcake's frustration wins out. She stutters when Kirk approaches, and then does not touch, the cleft between her legs. Hidden below the sheet, Kirk can smell without feeling that the girl's wet with apprehension, and each time her hands come close, Cupcake raises her hips off the bed, straining towards that elusive touch. Kirk's patience is about up anyway, so she obliges by scooting back up and out from under the sheet to kiss Cupcake slowly on the mouth - the girl's reply is hungry, unrestrained - and slips a hand down, under the band of Cupcake's panties, to gently stroke the soft folds of her vulva.
Cupcake breaks off the kiss with a gasp, eyes wide, and Kirk likes the way she foresees the evening going if this is how Cupcake reacts when she's barely touching. She allows her hand to work more, still just grazing, slick in Cupcake's pulsing heat, eliciting small, choked noises and blind clutches of sheets. Kirk pulls back her wet fingers and presses them lightly to the girl's clit, and suddenly it's like a whole new world has opened for Cupcake, because she curses and takes Kirk's face between both her damp palms, pressing their lips together desperately. Kirk raises an eyebrow, and her hand starts tapping a feather-light Morse code, generating squeaks and ahhs and caught breaths between hot, messy kisses. She adjusts her hand to rub with her thumb, and crooks two fingers up inside the tight opening of Cupcake's cunt.
Cupcake feels about as un-broken-in as Kirk would've guessed, so she doesn't try for more than that, but works those two digits smoothly, slickly, pumping them gently - but not too gently - as Cupcake pants in disbelief, kissing whatever she can reach, whenever Kirk leans close enough.
She whines softly in protest when Kirk moves her body lower again, hand still working, but that whine becomes a long, shuddery moan when Kirk grins up at her predatorily and starts licking the faint salty sheen of sweat from one of her breasts.
So Kirk's got this girl going like business now, breathing hard and making little keening whimpers that go straight to Kirk's cunt (which is doing pretty well, too, right now, thank you very much), and decides to cut to the chase. She manages to scoot her knees forward so both hands can go down to work Cupcake's vag, while her lips and tongue go to town on the girl's fantastic tits. She's starting to feel the strain of fatigue in one soaked hand, angled awkwardly with the panties in the way, when Cupcake's breathing starts hitching and she looks around the room wildly.
"Ohhhhhhhh..." she whispers, "oh, oh god..."
Kirk raises her head and regards Cupcake's face, furrowed with tension. "Shhh, shh, that's good, girl, that's good. You're gonna come for me, baby girl, and you're gonna come hard. Breathe deep, baby, just let it happen."
Cupcake cries out in sensitivity and frustration. Kirk doesn't change her speed, but applies a little more pressure with the hand on Cupcake's clit. "Come on, girl," Kirk repeats, "that's it, breathe," and she takes one of Cupcake's nipples into her mouth and sucks.
The dam breaks and Cupcake's careening over it, gasping like a caught fish, back arching off the bed as she makes choked sobbing noises and shudders over and over. Kirk stills her hands, applying pressure but not movement, and lets the girl ride it out and catch her breath before cracking her knuckles, crawling back up with a raised brow and a smirk, and murmuring, "Now let's get you out of these wet panties before you catch cold."
Kirk's as good as her word, and underwear and sheets all end up discarded, thrown over the edge of the bed and forgotten, while the two of them grasp and slide and fuck on the mattress, naked and panting. Cupcake's falling into the "spaghetti-girl" archetype Kirk's grown to recognize - only straight until you get her wet - and proves impressively game to Kirk's various suggestions. When Kirk unwraps a bundle from her earlier dash into her room and extracts an apparatus of straps and rings, Cupcake looks a little intimidated but selects one of the three colored-silicone implements that accompany it, and sprawls on her back with her waist at the edge of the bed so Kirk can fuck her, deep, gripping her hips with each firm thrust. Kirk's prediction holds most fortuitous truth - Cupcake needs some warming up, but once she's primed, she can really take it. Kirk's never been so thrilled by the random kismet of a stranger punching her in the face.
Her hands wrap under Cupcake's ass, between flesh and mattress, and she grinds down and forward as the curved silver strap-on slides in and out of the heat of Cupcake's cunt, prompting the other girl to reach over her head and cling vicelike to the opposite edge of the bed, biting her lip.
"Try touching yourself," Kirk pants. "Rub your clit like I showed you earlier."
Cupcake explores gingerly at first, but Kirk knows what she's talking about, and the girl's tentative touches become methodical and then purpose-driven as she rocks closer to climax with every thrust.
Kirk watches her from above as she comes again - eyes squinted shut hard, mouth gaping, head tilted back, spine arched - and moves a hand from Cupcake's hip to push her own sweaty hair out of her face. Goddamn, goddamn, she should gamble more often. When she pulls out of Cupcake to allow her to breathe and reorient herself, Kirk snaps off the harness and tosses the modular cock-piece to the side.
Good times had by all, so far, but Kirk's about ready to die if she doesn't get some attention herself.
"Need a break, Cupcake?" she asks, grinning down at the thoroughly disheveled girl on the bed, mussed brown hair fallen from its ponytail and tangled all over the place.
Cupcake coughs, looking up at her a little blearily. "Uhh?" she replies, all eloquence.
Kirk dangles the harness from her index finger, a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"Don't worry," she reassures Cupcake, who looks a little out of her depth, "your part is easy. And I know a thing or two about easy."
So Kirk helps Cupcake into the web of straps and rings, swapping out the skinny silver dildo for a more substantial green one, and then, after watching a newly emboldened Cupcake do a full turn so she can appreciate the view, kisses her back down onto the bed and climbs aboard to straddle her.
It doesn't take any extra lube, not tonight - Kirk's as ready as she's ever been as she reaches between her legs to guide the silicone cock into her. Once the tip is where it needs to be, Kirk grips her palms onto her own thighs, breathes in deep, and then presses down onto it hard, taking it in all at once.
She hisses, gritting her teeth, as Cupcake looks up at her with concern. Still grimacing slightly, Kirk winks. She draws herself back up, feeling the slick suction of the withdrawing silicone, and then drives herself down onto it again.
She builds this rhythm gradually - the slow pull up, the violent slam down - until she's pumping in earnest, a hard percussion, riding Cupcake like a dirtbike without shocks, fucking herself past suaveness and banter while the other girl raises her hips in counterpoint, looking at her in awe, arousal, and concern, stroking Kirk's thighs as she rises and falls.
Kirk puts a hand between her legs to rub her clit and it's nothing like the gentle pressure she used with Cupcake - it's rough and hard and almost frantic, because she enjoys a good hard fuck for its own sake but christ does she need to get her rocks off.
Her cunt squeezes around the flex of the silicone, and the things she's shouting are probably offensive as she grinds down as fast and hard as possible onto it, one hand pressing furious strokes on her clit while the other holds on for dear life to her own dripping-with-sweat hair.
"Fuck," she pants, "fuck, ah-!" and then she chokes, holding her breath and tightening up all over.
When the orgasm consumes her, a singularity collapsing her in on herself, Kirk cries out like she's striking an opponent, a release of energy deep from her core, pure in its lack of restraint. She rocks forward, cunt still riding out the spasms of the climax, and suddenly thinks, well, fuck, why not try for two?
So she does, picking up the strokes on her clit where she left off a minute ago, and lo and behold, she's still got some volts left in her. The second orgasm leaves her screaming off the tail-end of the first, spitting language a Klingon would blush to hear. That's wrung her, and she pulls herself off the dildo and slumps down onto Cupcake, naked bodies pressed together. The room smells like sex - sweat and wet girl-parts and saliva and, faintly, Cupcake's floral shampoo - and they're both drenched with one another's perspiration. Kirk licks some off Cupcake's neck experimentally - yes, it is salty - and nuzzles her face into the crook of it with a happy sigh.
"Your hair smells nice," she mumbles into the mattress.
Cupcake's hand comes up to brush Kirk's own shaggy head, and the gesture is strangely sweet. They lie together like that for a couple minutes, Kirk breathing in Cupcake's scent, Cupcake holding Kirk gently and stroking her hair.
The cuddles break off when Kirk props herself up on her elbows. "You," she declares, "are the best study break ever." She smiles broadly at Cupcake, and then a thought occurs to her. She pauses. "I wasn't going to suggest this, because you seem pretty satisfied and possibly about ready to pass out, but I honestly think it'd be criminal to both of us if I passed up this opportunity. You up for one more round?"
Cupcake cocks her head in disbelief, then lets out a little half-laugh and considers. "You think I've got it in me?"
"Oh, if you don't already, you're about to." Kirk rolls off of Cupcake and lies flat on her back beside her. "Okay, there are two ways we can do this. One would have you lying on your back again, but you've been doing a lot of that and I'm pretty sure the view of the underside of my tits is entertaining for only so long. The other way... well, I'll show you, come over here."
Cupcake does indeed have it in her, and Kirk's tongue, too, as in no time she's gripping the headboard of the bed and kneeling over Kirk's attentive mouth. Kirk wets her own lips, and then licks Cupcake's, lapping at her clit and then stretching her tongue up inside. It doesn't reach far, obviously, but it's far enough for Kirk to feel the involuntary muscle contractions of the girl's slick cunt while her other senses pick up Cupcake's dark scent, slight salt tang, and disbelieving gasps and whimpers.
Kirk's pretty sure Cupcake's resigned herself to this oh-so-awful fate - the "bet," such as it was, is in the bag. With the other girl on top, the power has shifted, and Cupcake's got a lot more agency now in her own pleasure, which is great as far as Kirk's concerned. She's shown the rookie how to steer the ship, and now it's time to let her fly it.
Kirk herself is enjoying the ride, most notably her current mouthful of hot, wet girl. She sucks on Cupcake with the gentle suction one might use on a savored hard candy, and Cupcake, as Kirk had optimistically predicted, is about to get off again.
Kirk breaks the suction and licks for a minute, amused that Cupcake's started involuntarily grinding her crotch into Kirk's face, and decides that one final concession to vanity is in order.
"Cupcake," she says, muffled by the girl's thighs. "Baby, listen to me."
Cupcake stops rocking but maintains her clutch on the bed frame, panting down wantonly with a look that electrifies Kirk's own sex.
Kirk wets her lips absently, only to find them already wet, and purrs, "I want you to call me Captain."
Cupcake blinks. "...What?"
"Call me Captain," Kirk says, and it's a command this time. Where she's pulling this authority out of is anybody's guess, but she follows up with, "If you're gonna come, I want you screaming my name while you're doing it - it's Kirk, by the way, Jane Kirk, not sure if we ever went over that - and I want you to call me Captain."
"I don't -" Cupcake begins, but Kirk flicks out her tongue to the girl's swollen clit, and the end of the sentence is lost in a moan. "Oh," she says, "oh god...."
Kirk teases her for a few minutes, and finally the girl sobs out, "Fuck... please, Captain, alright!" and Kirk nearly comes herself then, because, oh god, it's better than she expected, and she rewards Cupcake by pulling out all the stops on her fine-honed oral skills.
She didn't make treasurer of the Xenolinguistics Club because of her dazzling personality, that's for damn sure.
Somehow she works her arm up between Cupcake's rocking thighs, and gets her thumb up inside the girl to press in the vicinity of her G-spot, which, along with the vacuum of her mouth around the girl's clitoris, gets her yelling.
"Oh... oh, Captain Kirk! Oh yes, ohhhhh, Captain!" Cupcake pants harder and faster, her sweat-glazed thighs pistoning a subtle but potent rocking motion so her cunt gets as much friction as possible from Kirk's ministrations, and Kirk feels her stiffen, hold her breath, and then let out a choked wail.
"C- Captain!" she keens, a mantra she's been repeating as her climax built and now cries out like an invocation as it hits. "God, fuck, yes, Captain Kirk, oh god!"
Her yells are echoed by a similar baritone cry of, "Good God, Jane!" and Kirk realizes with some alarm that Bones is home.
Of course she wouldn't have heard him come in, with Cupcake bearing down onto her and crying out her name... wouldn't have seen him, not with her head vised between Cupcake's thighs. Kirk is still for a moment, mind racing for the smoothest way out. This explanation could get a little awkward.
Cupcake's first instinct is apparently to shriek and roll down off of and beside Kirk to hide behind her, panting, with limited success - Kirk's a lot smaller than she is. They're both naked anyway and their clothes and top sheet are long gone in some distant corner of the room, doing very little good to anyone.
Bones, to his credit, has turned to face the wall ninety degrees away from them, not looking in their direction at all as he begins his verbal onslaught.
"Goddamn it, Jane, what the hell do you think I'm running here, some kind of infernal bordello for your personal convenience? I've put up with a lot of your shenanigans, kid, but this takes the goddamn cake." Bones goes into a full-on rant about responsibility and privacy and the worst decision-making skills of anyone he's ever had the extreme misfortune of meeting, and Kirk sort of tunes him out, debating internally the best way of charming her way out of this. She decides that the combined nudity in the room is adding to McCoy's discomfort, so she climbs off the bed and grabs the sheet from the floor, throwing it over Cupcake's shivering form (combination of nerves, cooling sweat, and afterglow, Kirk reckons) before picking her underwear off of a stack of forms on the desk and stepping into them. She continues her scavenger hunt as Bones continues shouting at the far wall, clearly quite displeased at his late-night surprise.
Only Bones could be so irate to discover naked lesbians going at it in his bed.
“And what the hell was that ‘Captain Kirk’ business about, anyway, you megalomaniacal, sex-crazed maniac? Actually, never mind, I’d rather not know.”
Kirk finds her sports bra and pulls it on. She's decent now, she figures - got the essentials covered, anyway - so she tosses Cupcake her uniform and walks over to put a hand on Bones's shoulder.
"Bones -" she starts, but he doesn't let her speak. He turns abruptly.
"Don't put those hands on me, I don't know where they've been," he spits. "Who knows what bacteria you're hosting? Nice of you to get them all in my bed," he adds bitterly.
"Bones, we changed the sheets -"
"Gonna have to disinfect the whole damn room," Bones continues, disgruntled.
"Bones," Kirk says, and she grabs him by both shoulders so he stops talking and looks her in the face, "do you think, if I had any other choice, I would have used your room?"
"You had a choice! You could have not had sex with her!"
Kirk stares, certain she must have misheard. Bones buries his face in his hands with a long-suffering sigh that, honestly, Kirk feels is a bit overdramatic.
"I should have known something was up," he says between his fingers, "when I had to put in the manual locking override code. I knew I didn't set it when I left this afternoon..."
"Here, Bones, let me help Cupcake get her things together, and I'll explain every-"
"Her name is Cupcake?!"
"Actually," says Cupcake, standing up from the bed - she's apparently changed into her rumpled uniform under the sheet - "I'm-"
"As far as he's concerned, your name is Cupcake!" Kirk interrupts carefully, not wanting an enraged Bones to report anyone for trespassing in his dorm room. "I deserve to get in trouble for this, maybe, but you don't."
Cupcake looks indignant for a minute, but apparently concedes Kirk's point because she nods slowly.
"Here," says Kirk, "let me walk you out." She looks over her shoulder at McCoy before escorting the girl out to the hallway and letting the door slide shut behind them.
"I am so sorry -" she starts to whisper, but gets cut off when Cupcake's lips collide with her own.
Kirk's eyes widen, but she hasn't made it this far in life without following her instincts, so she closes her eyes and lets her tongue meet Cupcake's in a long, hard kiss.
It breaks off with a wet smack of lips, and Cupcake whispers, "You win."
She turns and walks down the hall with remarkable poise for somebody who just had her brain sucked out through her clit. Kirk stares after her, mesmerized by the slight sway of her hips and ponytail.
Goddamn, thinks Kirk, and the long, apologetic discussion she's about to have with Bones is totally, completely, unquestionably worth it.
Kirk's up early, fresh from a jog around the quad. She's only had a couple hours sleep but she feels fantastic as she makes her way back to her dorm for a quick shower and change before her third attempt at the big, "unbeatable" simulation test. She whistles as she climbs the stairs, skipping every other step, a newly-acquired bottle under her arm - her plan is to wait until after the test, kneel before Bones, beg his forgiveness, and present him with the bottle and its precious contents. It'll work. If any of her plans work today, this one will.
As she rounds the corner at the top of the stairwell, she bumps into somebody. "Whoops, sorry," she apologizes automatically, as he does the same. She steps back and sees it's one of the cadets who'd given her shit in the hallway last night.
The dude recognizes her, too. He pauses, considers her. "Look," he says, "I know we didn't get off on a good foot before. I... probably acted like kind of a bastard. I really thought you were just another smug command-track asshole, but you're alright, you know? You're alright. Sorry for bumping into you. Anyway, see you around."
He walks away, and Kirk goes into her room, a big grin on her face. She's ready for the test, ready as ever to take on the impossible.
Jane T. Kirk has always loved a challenge.
Notes!
- I envision still-in-Iowa NuTrek girl!Kirk wearing the same jeans/white t-shirt/biker jacket, and with shaggy hair like little!Kirk.
- Girl!Cupcake is fucking jacked with medium-length brown hair that she wears back in a tight ponytail. She does not wear the miniskirt uniform, ever. She's security track, and, partly because of the gender ratio in her field, most of her friends are guys. She comes from a socially conservative family, a definite rarity in the 23rd century, so she doesn't talk much about them at school. Likewise, she talks about school as vaguely as possible when calling home.
- 5-6-2-6-6-2, Bones's door-locking code, spells "J-O-A-N-N-A."
- I fear that I've created this version of girl!Kirk as a personal Mary Sue. FUCK.
- Hm? Did I make Kirk's preferred dildo green intentionally? Why, I'm sure I haven't any idea what you're talking about.
- Because this is a femslash story, Uhura's decision to order a shot of tequila instead of a shot of Jack was intentional.
- At one point, Kirk uses "christ" as an expletive, and I know that's anachronistic but I couldn't come up with a good replacement in that context that didn't sound hokey and detract from the porn. Hopefully it's not too jarring.
- Have I mentioned my undying love for ennyousai, redcirce, and coasterchild? UNDYING LOVE FOR ennyousai, redcirce, AND coasterchild.
TYFYT! \o/