fic: no rush (st xi)
uhura/rand, nc-17, ~900, unbeta'd
technically "quickie" at the porn battle
The first six months, Janice Rand continues to be the moodiest person Nyota Uhura has ever known in her life. She bites out comments and “forgets” their dinners, starts arguments even more regularly than she had in the Academy in a silent challenge against Uhura’s patience. She does stupid things and refuses to admit it (even when Jim corners her with regulations and Spock as backup and threatens to have her thrown in the brig) and then jumps down Uhura’s throat when she does similar stupid things (and gets pissed off when Jim and Spock refuse to corner Uhura with regulations and can’t even keep her own arguments about how Uhura is supposed to “stay safe” straight in the face of Uhura’s easy rebuttals).
The seventh month, she apparently decides that Uhura had meant it when she had insisted it was a lasting thing and it becomes quickly apparent that Janice Rand with her walls down is at once the most maddening and exhilarating thing Uhura’s ever known.
Fourteen months in, she laughingly puts her mother's old class ring on Uhura's finger only to jerk it off too quickly when it fits, and then avoids Uhura for the next twelve hours.
Until she stops avoiding her.
“You realize that Sulu is going to kill us.”
Janice chuckles into her mouth, short and easy, “We’ll be quick” and keeps edging her to the work counter of the botany lab, unwilling to feign embarrassment when they both know there’s none to be found. “He won’t even know.” Uhura tilts farther back on the counter, grinning as palms slide under her skirt, skim up.
But Janice hesitates then, breaks the kiss with a little breath as her fingers stroke once and then pause at the junction of her thighs, and Uhura cradles the back of her neck, feels the other woman go pliant. “No rush,” she swears bluntly, unwilling to let anything under Rand’s skin fester, and then swallows Janice’s little pant of undeclared emotion.
When she breaks the kiss, draws back slowly, Janice’s eyes are bright-dark but the tension’s gone out of her shoulders again, mouth curving with renewed heat. Movement between her legs, slow strokes finally, and Uhura relaxes, drops her head back as the pad of Janice’s thumb circles her clit.
“I want dinner tonight.” She takes a shivering breath, tilts her hips forward in a demand and shivers when Janice obeys, two fingers sliding inside her to curve, stroke. “Not where Jim’s going to circle the table,” she manages to get out as Janice slides down to the floor yanking damp cloth off her hips and down her thighs. “He keeps giving me the evil eye.” She grins a little, too pleased, as Janice hooks her leg almost possessively on a shoulder and nudges her other.
“He’s protective,” Janice returns shortly but the grin in her voice is unmistakable despite the muffled quality.
“He’s given me the speech three-” There’s the firm swipe of a tongue up her thigh, the brush of teeth on a newly exposed hip and she locks her hands around the edge of the counter. “Three times-” And then her words break down as Janice opens her, traces her slit so determinedly she shudders and mutters like an idiot.
The contact breaks for a moment, and there’s a short laugh of “just tell him off” that makes her shudder, fist fingers in Janice’s hair and pull her back.
“I agree with him,” she assures without thinking as Janice obeys the demand and Uhura smiles helplessly, unevenly. Because she’s aware enough to feel the slight tremble in the movement as Janice strokes a palm up her thigh in response to the words, squeezes her hip with damp fingers, despite Rand’s attempt to hide it.
Because Janice complains about how people steal her personal space but she clings when she’s asleep, clutches tight through the night and breathes a little too fast when Uhura pulls away to go to the bathroom. She never shows worry when Uhura heads down with the away teams but always happens to be in the transporter room when Uhura returns. She shies away from letting Uhura introduce her to her mother, her family, is terrified that they’ll dislike her, but has to hide her satisfaction when Uhura shares her stories, has to hide how badly she obviously wants to meet them despite her insecurity, how desperately she wants them to take her in.
When fingertips brush her knuckles now, Uhura breathes out a pant, lets go of the counter and grips the palm that curls almost anxiously around hers. Balances her focus between the hand clutching hers and the pleasure coiling low inside her, breathes, “I’ve got you” and means it more than she’d ever thought she could mean anything before Janice had stopped trying to finish fights that Uhura hadn’t even known had been started. “I’ve got you, it’s okay…”
She feels the bones of Janice’s hand grind in hers as she tightens her grasp, shudders through her orgasm without a helpless little sound she can't help, and there’s a last compulsive squeeze of her hand before Janice is leaning away to peer up at her, face wet but eyes delighted. “You realize you'll have to ask Jim for my hand when you get serious…” A smirk, Janice assured enough to make a joke out of it. “Nobody's good enough for me, you know how he is-”
“You were a hundred times worse when you stalked Spock around the ship making threats if his hand went below Jim's waist,” she retorts without hesitation, and is already easing to the floor and pushing Janice back, slanting her mouth over hers greedily.
When her thumb slides across the bands of metal on Janice's finger, Janice grips her hand, doesn't push her away again.
note: i need to write more porn for these two. damn.
technically "quickie" at the porn battle
The first six months, Janice Rand continues to be the moodiest person Nyota Uhura has ever known in her life. She bites out comments and “forgets” their dinners, starts arguments even more regularly than she had in the Academy in a silent challenge against Uhura’s patience. She does stupid things and refuses to admit it (even when Jim corners her with regulations and Spock as backup and threatens to have her thrown in the brig) and then jumps down Uhura’s throat when she does similar stupid things (and gets pissed off when Jim and Spock refuse to corner Uhura with regulations and can’t even keep her own arguments about how Uhura is supposed to “stay safe” straight in the face of Uhura’s easy rebuttals).
The seventh month, she apparently decides that Uhura had meant it when she had insisted it was a lasting thing and it becomes quickly apparent that Janice Rand with her walls down is at once the most maddening and exhilarating thing Uhura’s ever known.
Fourteen months in, she laughingly puts her mother's old class ring on Uhura's finger only to jerk it off too quickly when it fits, and then avoids Uhura for the next twelve hours.
Until she stops avoiding her.
“You realize that Sulu is going to kill us.”
Janice chuckles into her mouth, short and easy, “We’ll be quick” and keeps edging her to the work counter of the botany lab, unwilling to feign embarrassment when they both know there’s none to be found. “He won’t even know.” Uhura tilts farther back on the counter, grinning as palms slide under her skirt, skim up.
But Janice hesitates then, breaks the kiss with a little breath as her fingers stroke once and then pause at the junction of her thighs, and Uhura cradles the back of her neck, feels the other woman go pliant. “No rush,” she swears bluntly, unwilling to let anything under Rand’s skin fester, and then swallows Janice’s little pant of undeclared emotion.
When she breaks the kiss, draws back slowly, Janice’s eyes are bright-dark but the tension’s gone out of her shoulders again, mouth curving with renewed heat. Movement between her legs, slow strokes finally, and Uhura relaxes, drops her head back as the pad of Janice’s thumb circles her clit.
“I want dinner tonight.” She takes a shivering breath, tilts her hips forward in a demand and shivers when Janice obeys, two fingers sliding inside her to curve, stroke. “Not where Jim’s going to circle the table,” she manages to get out as Janice slides down to the floor yanking damp cloth off her hips and down her thighs. “He keeps giving me the evil eye.” She grins a little, too pleased, as Janice hooks her leg almost possessively on a shoulder and nudges her other.
“He’s protective,” Janice returns shortly but the grin in her voice is unmistakable despite the muffled quality.
“He’s given me the speech three-” There’s the firm swipe of a tongue up her thigh, the brush of teeth on a newly exposed hip and she locks her hands around the edge of the counter. “Three times-” And then her words break down as Janice opens her, traces her slit so determinedly she shudders and mutters like an idiot.
The contact breaks for a moment, and there’s a short laugh of “just tell him off” that makes her shudder, fist fingers in Janice’s hair and pull her back.
“I agree with him,” she assures without thinking as Janice obeys the demand and Uhura smiles helplessly, unevenly. Because she’s aware enough to feel the slight tremble in the movement as Janice strokes a palm up her thigh in response to the words, squeezes her hip with damp fingers, despite Rand’s attempt to hide it.
Because Janice complains about how people steal her personal space but she clings when she’s asleep, clutches tight through the night and breathes a little too fast when Uhura pulls away to go to the bathroom. She never shows worry when Uhura heads down with the away teams but always happens to be in the transporter room when Uhura returns. She shies away from letting Uhura introduce her to her mother, her family, is terrified that they’ll dislike her, but has to hide her satisfaction when Uhura shares her stories, has to hide how badly she obviously wants to meet them despite her insecurity, how desperately she wants them to take her in.
When fingertips brush her knuckles now, Uhura breathes out a pant, lets go of the counter and grips the palm that curls almost anxiously around hers. Balances her focus between the hand clutching hers and the pleasure coiling low inside her, breathes, “I’ve got you” and means it more than she’d ever thought she could mean anything before Janice had stopped trying to finish fights that Uhura hadn’t even known had been started. “I’ve got you, it’s okay…”
She feels the bones of Janice’s hand grind in hers as she tightens her grasp, shudders through her orgasm without a helpless little sound she can't help, and there’s a last compulsive squeeze of her hand before Janice is leaning away to peer up at her, face wet but eyes delighted. “You realize you'll have to ask Jim for my hand when you get serious…” A smirk, Janice assured enough to make a joke out of it. “Nobody's good enough for me, you know how he is-”
“You were a hundred times worse when you stalked Spock around the ship making threats if his hand went below Jim's waist,” she retorts without hesitation, and is already easing to the floor and pushing Janice back, slanting her mouth over hers greedily.
When her thumb slides across the bands of metal on Janice's finger, Janice grips her hand, doesn't push her away again.
note: i need to write more porn for these two. damn.